#and i didn’t feel awkward about it after

[pitchsidestories]

look at us now II Renée Slegers x Reader

romantic masterlist | platonic masterlist | word count: 2689

summary: former lovers reunite at Arsenal.

author's note: hi, our first Renée Slegers fanfic, let us know your thoughts on it. As always this is purely fiction, enjoy. 🤍❤️

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 “So, you hired another assistant coach without telling me?”, Renée asked incredulously, well aware that except for her, the room was full of very important looking men.

One of them nodded sternly: “You needed another one. We made the decision for you.”

Renée closed her eyes for a brief moment and took a deep breath, fighting the urge to protest. She was Arsenals new head coach after all.

With forced calmness, she asked: “Who is it?”

“You know her already.”

Her eyebrows knitted together in confusion. She opened her mouth in order to ask what that was about to mean when you finally made your appearance. You had waited all morning in anticipation to surprise your former teammate with your presence.

“Hello Renée.”, you greeted her as you walked into the room.

Recognition flashed across her face, followed by genuine excitement. She got up from her chair, beaming: “You!”

Before you knew what was happening, she wrapped her arms around your neck and pulled you into a way too tight hug.

“Yes, it’s me. Don’t strangle me, please! That would be sad first last workday at the Arsenal.”, you laughed.

“You’re so stupid! I missed you so much.”, Renée giggled but finally let go of you.

For a second, you stood there and took each other in and it almost felt like nothing had changed since you played together in Sweden.

“I missed you too but now every player and staff member are staring at us which is kind of awkward.”, you admitted, nodding towards the door where the first pairs of eyes tried to figure out who the newest addition to the team was.

“They’re just curious about you. Let me introduce you.”, Renée suggested, leading you out of the conference room.

You followed patiently.

“Renée, who’s that girl you almost couldn’t let go of?”, Beth asked, blinking innocently at you.

“That’s y/n. She’s the new assistant coach and we used to play together for Linköpings.”, Renée explained. You didn’t miss the slight hint of pride in her voice.

Your eyes found another Swede between the players.

“Actually, I played with Stina too.”, you added.

The striker smiled at you: “Good to see you again.”

“You too. And I can’t wait to get to know each of you.”, you said towards the crowd.

Renée turned to you: “You will love them.”

“Oh, I’m sure of it.”

“Come on, I’ll show you around.”

Suddenly, your hand was in Renées as she dragged with her towards the football pitches. You could still feel the eyes of your new players on you as you followed Renée.

The eyes of Stina's teammates were expectantly drawn to her once the two of you had left the room.

An edgy laugh escaped the blonde’s lips: “What? Why are you all looking at me now?”

“Tell us!”, Beth commanded grinning.

The Swedish striker began to play nervously with her blonde hair: “Well what do you want to know?”

“About our new staff member and Renée of course!”, Leah replied thrilled.

Using the same excited tone as her, Beth added: “Obviously.”

“Not if she was a good baller or had a good sense and understanding of the game.”, Stinas eyes flashed in amusement.

“Actually.”, threw Kim in who was unlike the rest of the players indeed interested in that side of you.

The England captain clicked her tongue disapprovingly: “No, Kim.”

“We want the tea, Stina.”, Alessia told her.

She paused dramatically, during which everyone held their breath tensely, before admitting:” Yeah, they used to date.”

“When they were players or did, they continue to date once she became the head coach?”, Leah asked the forward curiously.

Stina cleared her throat and answered in a serious voice: “They ended it once Renée retired and took the coaching job in Rosengård.”

After this revelation the room fell silent for a second before Beth concluded with a heavy sigh:” Oh, that’s sad.”

“They seemed okay with it.”, the Swedish striker remarked.

Meanwhile Renée and you were walking along the training pitches, it was a cold day, but the golden afternoon sun warmed your faces. It was where you heard yourself say: “I’m glad that you don’t seem to mind that I took the job, Renée. Considering how things have ended between us in Malmö.”

“We mutually agreed to end this relationship.”, the Arsenal head coach remembered, while the smile disappeared from her face.

“True, it was the best solution at that time.”, you nodded.

Slowly, as the sunlight disappeared, the warmth returned to Renee's dark eyes, confessing:” I’m just happy to see you again.”

“Same. Nothing more.”, you agreed.

“That’s good.”, she observed.

At the end of your tour, you wished her goodbye:” So, I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Yes. See you tomorrow.”, Renée waved at you, her gaze following you until you were gone.

With a heavy heart the Dutch woman reminisced about all the wins and losses you had shared together in Sweden until her career ending injury put an end to it. Like a disco ball, Renée had put the shards that had caused the separation into each other to turn the pain into something bright.

She was content with her work, so love life wasn't a big issue until you came back into her life and made her wonder if maybe she should expect more from life.

The next day, you entered the training ground in a cheerful mood. “Good morning, Stina!”, you greeted your former teammate warmly.

“Morning.”, Stina beamed brightly back at you.

There was no time for small talk as Kelly Smith approached you: “Y/n?”

“Yes?”, you asked surprised. Sometimes you still couldn’t believe that you were working with her. Not only was she a legendary player for England but also for the whole of womens football.

She still smiled politely at you: “I think Renée is looking for you.”

You nodded once: “I’m coming.”

Renée was already on the pitch, one foot on a ball and her arms folded over her chest as she waited for the players to arrive.

You caught her eye from the other side of the field and smiled at her.

For a split second, Renée lost her balance on the ball, stumbling forward but catching herself quickly.

It all went by so fast, you had no time to worry about her.

“You’re good?”, you called out to her, teasing.

You had the feeling that somewhere behind you, Kelly was holding back laughter.

Renées cheeks had turned a slightly darker colour: “Yeah, of course.”

“Kelly said you wanted to see me?”, you said as you finally crossed the pitch.

“I do.”

You leaned forward, whispering: “I saw the dinner invitation in the locker room.”

The corners of Renées mouth quirked up: “Good. Are you free tonight?”

“Yes, I am. Will Kelly and the boys join us too?”

“No, it’s just us.”

Somehow your brain stopped working in that exact moment. You weren’t prepared for you and her. You had been thinking of nice little staff dinner where you had the opportunity to get to know everyone better. Being alone with Renée made your heart race a little.

Hesitantly, you accepted the invitation: “Alright… I guess I’ll go back to work.”

“Okay.”, Renée nodded.

Luckily, the players entered the pitch at that moment.

Beth who had caught the end of your conversation, stared at Renée with hopeful eyes: “Is that a date?”

“No.”, the head coach replied matter-of-factly.

Victoria elbowed Beth in the side: “Stop seeing things, Beffy.”

“I don’t”, the winger protested.

Kim rolled her eyes: “Yes, you do. You’re delusional.”

“You will see.”, Beth said full of confidence before Renée sent them to warm up.

Against your better judgement, you found yourself in a tiny but charming restaurant that night.

“The dinner is so delicious, Renée.”, you said, taking a sip of your wine.

She smiled at you almost shyly: “Glad you like it.”

“Next time we should bring the whole team and staff here.”

Her face turned a bit more serious: “Yes, we should. But first I wanted to talk to you alone.”

“About something specific?”

“No, just to catch up.”, Renée explained whose cheeks were slightly reddish in colour, you weren’t sure whether it was the wine or her nervousness. 

Instead of looking into her curious dark chocolate brown eyes, you stared at the wine glass in front of you as you confessing: ”I left Sweden because I needed a change.”

“A change?”, she repeated your words in a sincerely interested tone.

For a moment, you paused while the waitress lit the candle in the centre of the table, the flickering light made the conversation even more intimate: “To heal from heartbreak. What about you? What did I miss?”

“Not much. I tried to focus on football after leaving Rosengård.“, the football coach admitted casually. Whilst Renée undid her low hair bun so that her dark brown hair fell in waves over her shoulders.

With an amused smile on your lips, you remarked in disbelief:” That doesn’t sound like the fun Renée I knew from Linköping.”

Memories of her with a big cigar in her mouth and a ridiculous hat after winning the Swedish league came to your mind.

“Hey, I’m still fun.”, protested the Dutch woman, pointing her fork at you.

You cleared your throat and replied more seriously:” Yes, the players seem to think that too.”

“I take that as a compliment.”, she responded happily.

“You should, they’re really great to work with so far.”, you acknowledged.

Her radiant grin was infectious:” I think they like you too.”

“Only Beth is a bit annoying with..”, you began, thinking about the huge interest the English striker had in your private lives.

Renée waved your worries off:” Yes, I know. But that’s just how she’s, she only has good intentions.”

“I guess that’s true. I mean would be crazy if you still would have -.. , right?”, you started to ramble.  

She lifted an eyebrow at you: “Would have what?”

“Feelings after a mutual breakup.”, you finished your previous sentence flustered.

The brunette spoke your name gently.

“Yes?”, you glanced at her expectantly.

Fiercely and passionately, Renée continued: “Of course I do. I didn’t break up with you because I didn’t have feelings for you anymore, I broke up with you because I suddenly was your coach, and it was wrong to date a player.”

Afterwards, there was a dramatic silence at the table. “Well, I’m not a player anymore.”, you said matter-of-factly.

“I’m aware of that.”, she answered with a wistful smile.

Slightly sheepishly, you asked her:” Was that why you wanted a dinner with me alone first?”

“To see if we could get back together? No. I wanted to know how you’re, what you’ve been up to?”, the football coach tried to be professional again.

“Now you know.”

“I do.”, Renée confirmed, playing with the idea to order some dessert for both of you as it was a speciality of this restaurant.

Much to her disappointment though, you stood up:” Thank you for the dinner, it was a nice catching up.”

“Yes, I agree.”, the brunette waved at the waitress, signalling that she was ready to pay for the two of you.

The first game of the year and also the first game in your new job was against Crystal Palace a few days later. To your delight, the girls played great, winning the game 5:0 and building their confidence in this first game.

“Great win, girls.”, you clapped your hands as the referee blew the final whistle.

Renée appeared on your side.

“That’s exactly what we wanted to see.”, she agreed.

“Oh yes, well done everyone.”, you smiled and handed out water bottles to the players. They high-fived you, done but happy while Renée said a few words to the players.

Happily you watched as the players rightfully celebrated their win until an elbow to your side made you look up.

Renée was grinning at you: “Good job from you too.”

“From me? I didn’t do much yet.”, you said, feeling heat rise into your cheeks.

“You did everything I expect from my assistant coach. Arsenal made the right decision, we’re a good team.”, Renée said softly.

You nodded, smiling gently at her: “Yes, we are.”

“Come on, let the girls celebrate.”, Renée said, nodding in the direction of the sidelines so your players could have the pitch to themselves.

You didn’t follow immediately. Instead, you pointed to a few reporters that stood on the side, waiting for their first interviews. “The media already calls for you.”

“On my way.”, Renée winked and disappeared into the direction of the cameras.

Just when you were wondering when exactly she became so comfortable giving interviews, Leah stepped into your field of vision.

“Leah? Shouldn’t you celebrate with your teammates?”, you asked jokingly.

She shrugged with a smile: “I was about to. It’s not everyday that you score a goal as a defender.”

“I know. That’s why you need to enjoy every second of it.”

“Oh, I will.”

“Then what are you waiting for?”, you laughed.

Leah pushed you gently towards the rest of the team: “Celebrate with us!”

There was no way you could decline now, so you agreed and followed along: “Alright.”

A few minutes of jumping and hugging several players later, Renée found you on the pitch again.

Her eyes glowed with amusement: “Did they manage to get you to celebrate with them?”

“I couldn’t say no to that.”, you admitted

“Of course not.”, Renée laughed.

“See?”

She winked at you: “Enjoy your first win.”

You toasted to her with a random water bottle that somehow had ended up in your hand: “To many more wins.”

“Yes, please.”, she laughed.

“Y/n! Come with us!”, Beth interrupted your conversation and waved you over.

“Where are we going?”, you asked.

“It’s a surprise.”, Mariona replied instead of Beth, smiling excitedly.

It was already night when you got home and when you saw Renée's number light up on your mobile phone, you held your breath for a moment, although you didn't know exactly why.

“Sorry, I hope I didn’t wake you up.”, she apologized quietly as you answered her call.

A soft chuckle escaped your lips: “No, I was still awake, the Arsenal players can stay in pubs forever let me tell you that.

“Oh, I know, they did that to me too once.”, the Dutch woman remembered fondly.

“Kim and I left at the same time.” Teasingly you added:” So did you call me because you have come up with a masterplan against Chelsea or is it something else?”

“It’s something else. There’s something I need to talk about with you”, Renée admitted.

Your heart began to race: “Sure.”

“I kind of miss what we had back when.”, the head coach confessed.

The moment she said that you caught yourself reminiscing about memories of the past “Me too. We had some good parties with the team back then too.”

“Y/n.. I meant us. You and me.”, Renée clarified.

You felt the hope rise in you: “Do you think we could start again?”

“I don’t know, would you even like that? Or would you rather want to keep it professional.”, she began to nervously ramble.

You had heard yourself thinking out loud: “Pretty sure both can work this time.”

“Yes, but I want to know what you want.”

“I want to be with you. Renée, you’re an idiot, why are you standing outside in the cold?!”, you whispered into the phone, your eyes wandering off to the window where you noticed her in flesh and blood under the golden glow of the streetlamp light.

“In case that you say yes. What did you expect me to do? Go back to bed?”, Renée questioned with a warm laugh.  

Soon you got up to go to the front door: “Wait, I’ll let you in.”

“Thanks.”, she replied relived.

“You look like you’re freezing, come inside.”, you observed while you let her inside.

The brunette thanked you once more, kissing you, her icy lips melting on yours as the door closed behind the two of you.

[mimiiiiiiiiisstuff]

"Here"

Ok yall I'm back with chapter 7!! Hopefully this posts bc it wasn't working yesterday. Sorry if it's confusing, I rewrote it like 5 times! I tried not to use {y/n} but i mightve slipped up! Hope ya'll enjoy!! The plot is finally moving!! Lmk if you have any questions. Likes, reblogs, and asks motivate me! I love when yall send me your ideas and comments and asks! Wish me luck, I'm posting this and then taking my math exam! If you don't like it, don't read, stop sending mean asks and submissions!

Breakfast the next morning was horrible.

The awkward silence lingered, thick with unspoken words and eyes that felt like they were scanning every inch of you. You could feel their weight on your back, like a thousand invisible hands pushing you deeper into your seat, forcing you to stay in this uncomfortable moment.

You could already feel the heat rising in your chest, but you bit your lip, forcing yourself to take a deep breath. You weren’t going to lose your cool—not yet.

Damian’s gaze was fixed on you, like he was waiting for some kind of reaction, his lips pressed into a thin line. You knew what he was expecting: compliance. Submission. He expected you to shrink back under his scrutiny. And yet, there was something oddly satisfying about not giving him that satisfaction.

Instead, you focused on the plate in front of you, stabbing your fork into the pancakes with far too much force. You were still hungry, but the food felt like cardboard in your mouth, tasteless and dry, even though Alfred’s cooking was always the best.

Bruce was still watching you, his eyes heavy with a kind of expectant patience, like he was just waiting for you to crack. You could feel the tension in the room like a ticking clock, the seconds stretching longer than you’d ever thought possible.

"Why are you all staring at me?" you finally muttered, breaking the silence, your voice low but biting. You didn't look up from your plate, but you could feel the eyes on you. They all thought they could break you. They thought you were some fragile little thing, someone they could fix with their pity and their "family time." But you weren’t. You’d stopped being that person a long time ago.

Dick was the first to speak, his voice softer than usual, like he was trying to tread lightly around you. “We’re just trying to connect, I know it’s been a long time, and things got… complicated, but we don’t want to lose you again. Not after all this time.”

His words weren’t as comforting as he probably thought they were. In fact, they made your skin crawl. He was trying to be kind, but it felt forced, like he was reading from a script. You didn’t need this. Not from him, not from any of them. You wanted them to stop pretending like they could fix everything with a few hugs, a couple of "we missed you"s.

“I didn’t ask for this,” you said quietly, your voice almost a whisper, but it carried a weight. “I didn’t ask to be here. And I didn’t ask to be part of this family anymore.”

Bruce’s jaw tightened at your words, but he didn’t say anything at first. You could feel the flicker of something in his expression—guilt, maybe. Regret. He was looking at you, like he was trying to see the person you used to be. The person you had been before everything fell apart.

You weren’t that person anymore. And he needed to understand that.

“You don’t get to decide that,” Damian suddenly said, his voice a little too sharp. “You can’t just shut us out like this. You’re still a part of this family. Whether you like it or not.”

Your eyes shot up to meet his. " I can shut you all out, I can do whatever I want” you snapped, the frustration leaking through. “You’ve done it to me for years.”

Dick’s brow furrowed, his lips pulling into a frown. For a second, he looked genuinely taken aback by your words, “You don’t understand,” he said, his tone quieter but still laced with an edge. “We didn’t abandon you. Not on purpose. You think we didn’t care? You just never seemed to need help.”

You could feel the sting of his words, but you pushed it down, locking it away. You weren’t going to break. Not for him. Not for any of them. Of course you never needed help, you were too busy trying to be perfect.

“I was just a kid,” you replied, your voice a little rawer, louder than you intended. “And I was ignored by the people who were supposed to be there for me. So fuck you and fuck your family time too.”

There was a long pause, everyone looked around in shock, not expecting you to be so combatant and then Jason finally spoke up, his tone softer than usual, less teasing. “We’re trying, okay? I'm trying. We’re not perfect, and I’m not asking you to just forget everything. But we want to try. Let us try.”

You shot him a look, your eyes narrowing. “Trying isn’t good enough,” you muttered, your voice tight. “Not when it’s years too late. I don't want scraps of love anymore, not when i've had the real deal.”

Everyone seemed to quiet at the last part of your statement, suspicious of what it meant and from who you received "love" from. What convinced you that you didn't need them anymore?

“Then what do you want?” Tim interjected, his voice suddenly sharper, more direct than before. “What do you want from us? We’re here, and we’re trying to make it right. But you’ve got to meet us halfway.”

You wanted to scream. You wanted to tell them that nothing would ever be good enough, that the damage was already done. But you didn’t. Instead, you just stared at Tim, meeting his eyes with a challenge of your own. You didn’t owe them answers. Not anymore.

“I don’t know,” you said finally, your voice quieter now, almost defeated. “I don’t know what I want.”

It was the truth. You didn’t know what you wanted. You didn’t know if there was anything they could do to fix things. But one thing was certain: you didn’t want to stay in this mansion, suffocated by their expectations. You didn’t want to play along with their idea of a happy family.

Before anyone could respond, you stood up abruptly, pushing your chair back with a loud scrape against the floor.

“Don’t worry about me,” you said, turning on your heel. “I’ll figure it out on my own. I always have.”

You heard Duke’s soft voice in the background, calling after you, but you didn’t stop. You just walked out of the dining room, your heart pounding in your chest as you made your way toward the staircase.

As you climbed the stairs, you could feel their eyes on your back, the weight of their presence pressing down on you, but you didn’t care anymore. You didn’t care if they watched. You didn’t care if they were disappointed. You just wanted to be alone.

That day, you stayed in bed. You ignored every knock on your door, every phone call, every beg and plead to come down and eat. You just wanted to be alone.

You woke up to the quiet hum of the manor, but it was far from peaceful. The silence was suffocating, a constant reminder that there was no escaping them—not now. You tried to pretend the night before hadn’t happened, that their constant attention wasn’t as overwhelming as it was, that you were going back to New York soon. Unfortunately, fantasies don't become realities, especially when reality is chasing them down.

Every one of them was here, waiting. Watching.

Bruce stood near the staircase, his presence larger than life. His eyes lingered on you as if he expected something. You weren’t sure what. Maybe gratitude, maybe obedience. He said nothing, just watched you with that expression of silent insistence.

“Good morning,” he said in that deep, calm voice of his, but there was something off about it. There was a layer of expectation beneath his words, like he was waiting for something from you.

You ignored him, brushing past him without a second glance. You didn’t want to engage, didn’t want to pretend like everything was okay. But it didn’t matter. They were all around you now, slowly closing in.

Tim was the next to corner you. You could feel his calculating eyes on you the moment you stepped into the kitchen. He had a cup of coffee in hand, but his focus was on you. Just you.

“Did you sleep well?” he asked, the question seemingly casual but the undertone too sharp, too analytical. It wasn’t just a question, it was a probe, a way for him to gauge how much control he had over you.

You rolled your eyes, reaching for the fridge to grab something that could distract you, something that could make the reality of this house feel a little less like a cage. But the moment your hand touched the door, he was there, standing far too close, watching you, almost breathing down your neck.

“You know,” Tim said, his voice low, “we can talk today. If you want. We need to keep your abilities in check, make sure you’re safe, protected. ” His tone lingered on that last word, like he was reminding you that you were under his watch now.

You hated how calmly he said it. It made your skin crawl.

Steph was next, adding onto what Tim said with her stupid signature smile, "He's right y'know. It's dangerous out there. For you especially."

You ignored them both. Payback for their years of negligence.

Tim just stood there for a moment, his eyes scanning your face. “Fine, be like that,” he muttered, before walking away, but you knew he wasn’t done. He never was.

And then there was Dick. His usual cheerful demeanor didn’t falter as he breezed into the room, but it was too cheerful, too bright. He was pushing something, forcing something, like he was trying to manufacture happiness out of thin air, trying to remind you of who you were, who you used to be.

“Hey! How about we do something today?” he said, his voice far too eager. “We could go out and grab coffee, breakfast, anything. I know you’re probably not feeling it, but you need to get out of this house for a bit.”

You wanted tear him apart for thinking you could just “forget” everything and fall back into some comfortable, happy routine. But you didn’t. Instead, you just nodded stiffly, walking past him without acknowledging his words.

“Come on,” he tried again, following you, “It’ll be fun, I promise.”

“Just drop it, Dick,” you said, your voice like ice. “I’m not going anywhere. Ya'll made that pretty clear.”

His face faltered for just a moment before he plastered that damn grin back on. But you saw it, the frustration and determination behind his eyes. He wasn’t going to stop. None of them were.

Jason leaned against the kitchen counter, arms crossed, watching the scene unfold with a smirk you couldn’t quite decipher. “Ah, the princess finally comes out her tower,” he teased. “What? Got tired of throwing shit around in there?"

You narrowed your eyes, feeling the heat in your chest rise. Jason always had a way of pissing you off with his words, making everything seem like a joke, but you knew there was something darker underneath. He wanted to get a rise out of you, he craved it. He wanted you to go back to being his annoying little sister with anger issues.

“Shut up, Jason,” you muttered, turning away from him, not caring that you weren’t hiding your anger anymore. “I’m not in the mood for your bullshit today.”

Jason just laughed, but there was a hint of something softer there, something that felt almost... like concern, buried beneath the sarcasm.

“Stop,” you snapped, but before you could escape, Damian stepped in.

Damian was the most direct, the most unforgiving in his attempts to bond. He stepped into your path without hesitation, his posture rigid and eyes narrowed, as if daring you to push him away.

“You don’t get it, do you?” he said, his voice low, yet intense. “You think you’re some rebellious teenager trying to escape, but you’re not. You don’t get a choice in this.” His words weren’t harsh, they were final, like he had already decided your fate. And you were staying here, whether you liked it or not.

“You’re wrong,” you spat, your voice venomous. "I don’t need you.”

Damian tilted his head slightly, an unsettling calm settling over him. “You’ll need us eventually. Whether you want to or not. And you'll be grateful we never let you go.”

Your heart pounded in your chest, but you didn’t let him see it. Not yet. His audacity was insane. To think that you'd be thankful for being trapped in Gotham. Never.

As you tried to walk past him, you collided with Cass, who was standing silently behind you, her eyes filled with that knowing, unspoken concern. She's so creepy. She didn’t say a word but you could feel her presence, like a weight pressing down on you.

Cass placed a hand gently on your arm, her touch barely more than a whisper, but it was enough to make you freeze.

Why are they acting like this? What changed these two weeks?

"You’re safe here," she said quietly, her words cutting through the tension in a way that made your skin crawl. It wasn’t a suggestion, it was a command.

You pulled away sharply, nearly punching her, your fists clenched at your sides. “I'm not happy.” you said, more to yourself than to her.

But she didn’t respond. Of course she didn’t. Her eyes just followed you, and that was worse than any words.

Barbara was close by, but she didn’t need to be loud. She never did. She had this way of talking in soft tones that made everything sound so reasonable. So loving.

“You don’t have to keep shutting us out,” she said gently. “You can talk to us. We just want to make sure you’re okay. All of us. We care about you.”

You felt the weight of her words crash down on you, suffocating you with their sweetness, with their hidden demands. Care. It was just another word for control, for keeping you locked in their world, locked in their gaze. If they cared, they would let you be happy in New York.

“Just stop,” you whispered, more to yourself than to her. “Just... stop.”

You sat in your room for hours again, ignoring everyone.

Bruce had spent the last few days carefully watching you, keeping his distance just enough to make you think you had some semblance of freedom, but now he was ready to step in, to claim his role as your father.

He had promised himself when you left for France, he would make it right. That he would make up for everything he had missed, for every moment he had abandoned you for the greater good of Gotham. But now, as the silence stretched between you two, he was determined to close that distance.

You had just returned to your room after another breakfast you didn’t want to be part of when you heard the knock.

It was Bruce.

“You’re not busy, are you?” he asked, his voice almost too warm, too hopeful.

You shot him a glance, wondering if he truly thought this would work. After everything that had happened, after all the times he had failed you, he still thought a few “father-daughter” moments could make things better.

"I guess not," you replied flatly, stepping aside to let him in, your mind already racing with how to get through whatever this was going to be.

The moment he entered, Bruce seemed to settle, as though he had a plan in mind, one he was eager to execute.

“Good,” he said, looking around the room, his eyes scanning for something, maybe an opportunity. Then, he turned back to you, hands clasped behind his back. “I thought today, we could spend some time together. Just us. It’s been a while since we’ve done something like this, hasn’t it? School starts soon and you'll get busy, you won't have time for me anymore.”

He was trying to joke around.

School. More like prison. The more he mentioned school, the angrier you got. You'd never done something like this. He did it with all his other kids though, with Tiffany. As you thought of her, all ideas of being nice to Bruce, of trying to bond with your father, flew out the window.

The words felt like a slap, and you couldn’t keep the bite from your tone. “Is that what you think this is? Quality time? You really think we’re just gonna pick up where we left off? Think you can change the past with brunch?”

Bruce’s eyes softened for a moment, his expression cracking, but only slightly. The guilt was there, unmistakable, but it didn’t erase the unspoken expectation behind his words. His voice became more gentle, more insistent.

“I know it’s not easy,” he said, his voice steady but laced with something else—something almost pleading, though he would never admit it. “But I want to make this right. You deserve this. You deserve... me. We can go out, maybe catch a movie, grab lunch, talk, whatever you want. I just want to be with you. Like you always talked about.”

You didn’t respond immediately. For a moment, you just stood there, frozen, as the weight of his words crashed over you. It was nice watching him beg for once. You had always wanted this. Wanted him. Wanted him to be a father, to care for you like he did the others. But that was before you tasted freedom, before you tried love.

Now, the idea of spending time with him felt like a betrayal to everything you had tried to protect: your own independence, your own space, your freedom. You didn’t want to be a part of his perfect little family anymore.

“No.” you muttered, unable to stop the anger from flooding your chest. “You really think that’s going to fix things? You think I just forgot what you did? Because i'm nice sometimes?”

Bruce didn’t flinch at your words, didn’t even show any sign of anger. Instead, he just stepped closer, his presence filling up the room, looming over you like an impenetrable wall. His tone remained patient, almost too controlled, like he was walking on eggshells.

“I know I can’t undo the past,” he said quietly, a trace of regret slipping through. “But I can be here for you now. I won’t make the same mistakes. I promise.”

A cold laugh escaped your lips. “You already have.”

You could feel your pulse quicken, the anger bubbling up inside you, but you pushed it back. You wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of seeing you break.

Bruce’s eyes softened even further, the guilt twisting in his expression, and for a moment, you saw something else there—desperation. As if he was begging you to let him in, to give him just one chance to prove he wasn’t the same person who had abandoned you for years.

“We could just sit and talk,” he said, his voice low and sincere. “No expectations. No agenda. Just us. I’m not trying to fix you or make everything perfect. I just want to spend time with my daughter.”

Something in you snapped at the mention of daughter. The word that had haunted you for years. The word that had felt like a lie every time he used it. You clenched your fists, struggling to keep your composure.

“No,” you said, your voice flat, cutting through the tension like a knife. “You don’t get it. I don’t want this anymore. I don't want you anymore.”

Bruce’s face faltered, just for a moment, before he recovered. But the hurt was there, tucked in the corners of his eyes. “I'm sorry. I hope you know that.”

You shook your head, not wanting to hear it anymore. The damage was done. He couldn’t erase it. No amount of “father-daughter time” was going to make you forget what it had been like when he wasn’t there for you.

“Stop,” you snapped, taking a step back. “Just stop. You don’t get to do this, Bruce. You don’t get to waltz in here and act like everything is fine. Like everything’s fixed. You’ve ruined it. All of it.”

Bruce opened his mouth, but no words came. You could see the conflict in his eyes, the struggle to understand where it had gone wrong.

“I’m just trying to make up for it,” he said quietly, but the sound of it made your stomach churn. The way his voice cracked slightly at the end of the sentence only made it worse.

And you hated yourself for feeling even a little guilty for saying no.

But no. You wouldn’t let him do this. Not again.

“I don’t want your apologies,” you spat, your tone sharp, venomous. “And I don’t want your ‘time.’ You don’t get to play the father now.”

Without waiting for a response, you turned on your heel and walked toward the door. You needed to escape. You needed space. You needed to breathe. You were leaving your own room to get away from him.

Bruce’s voice stopped you, and you felt the pull of his desperate plea in the back of your mind. His words clung to you, too heavy, too much. “I'll go, don't leave. This is your room. I just want you to know I’m here. I’ll always be here.”

You watched your father walk away, and only after he left did you fall to your bed and cry.

The next days before school were a blur. You spent them locked in your room, alternating between crying on the phone with Ariel, avoiding the family when you went down to sneak food to your room, trying to butter up Bruce and convince him to let you go back to boarding school, and online shopping.

Yet somehow Monday morning you were up at 5:30 getting into the shower.

The thought of returning to Gotham Prep made your stomach churn. How could you go back to a place where you had no true friends? A school where you’d been bullied by half your grade. Where Tim pretended you didn’t exist, Damian and Tiffany ridiculed you in front of everyone, and Duke ignored you like you were invisible. Where you ate lunch in the bathroom, alone and cried in the janitor's closet like a loser.

But you weren't the same girl who walked through those halls last year. No, this year was going to be different. You were different.

Last night, as you scrolled through Tik Tok, a new idea formed in your mind. You’d had enough of being invisible. It was time for a change.

You had a plan.

You found the bleach blonde hair dye in your bathroom, hidden away in the back of a drawer. You didn’t need permission, and you certainly didn’t need anyone to hold your hand.

By the time the dye had set and you’d rinsed it out, you felt like a new person. It was the kind of hair that would make people stop and stare.

You woke at 5:30 and hopped in the shower, you wanted to take your time getting ready. You plugged in your pink dyson and curled your new blonde hair, it would fall into a blow out later in the day, complaining about your family to Ariel and Claire. You spent the next two hours getting ready, perfecting your makeup. You’d learned to contour, learned to do your eyeliner just right, and became a bronzer girl over the summer. You grabbed your favorite Chanel palette and messily applied dark eyeshadow in smoky charcoal, blending seamlessly into the crease of your eyes and eyeliner. You smudged on a bold dark burgundy lipshine that drew attention. You weren’t trying to be anyone but yourself, your new self.

Then came the clothes.

You'd already shortened your Gotham Prep skirt by more than a few inches. It was below your knees and now it showed off the thighs you spent all summer tanning. You wanted to make a statement, and if they didn’t like it, that was their problem. The white blouse, originally oversized, was now form-fitting, you wanted it to give that one Bella Hadid picture. You left the top buttons undone, the tie hanging loosely around your neck in a deliberate, I-don’t-care gesture. You could feel the fabric clinging to your skin, reminding you of how much control you were regaining. You looked like the kind of girls you used to call whores last year.

You looked through your drawers for your signature jewelry you collected over the summer and during school. Big gold hoops on your ears, studs in all your other ear piercings, a tiffany heart necklace that rested on your exposed collar bone, and multiple bracelets stacked on each arm, jingling as you moved.

As you stood in front of the mirror, you smiled. You looked good.

Lastly you grabbed your Isabel Marant sneakers, chic and effortless, and slipped them on. They were expensive, but it wasn’t about the price—it was about the look. The vibe. Then, more than few spritzes of perfume. Something sharp, and not too sweet. You wanted to make a lasting impression, to turn heads as you walked.

By the time you were done, you felt invincible. The girl staring back at you was someone who didn’t care what anyone thought. You weren’t going to be bullied anymore. You were going to be the one who dictated the terms.

You walked out of your room, head held high, your heart pounding with anticipation.

Downstairs, the Batfamily was gathered at the breakfast table, doing their usual routine. They all stopped talking the second they saw you.

You’d barely stepped into the room when the heavy silence fell over the table. Bruce looked up, his expression instantly darkening. His lips pressed together in a thin line, his gaze flicking over your appearance.

“Is this what you're wearing?” His voice was tight, a hint of disapproval slipping into the words.

You gave him a look that said everything. “Is something wrong? I thought it was cute.” Your tone was soft, teasing, but with a bite underneath. You weren’t asking for his permission. You were daring him to say something.

Tim, who had been looking at his phone, blinked up at you with wide eyes. He’d been so engrossed in whatever he was reading that he didn’t even seem to know how to respond. His fingers hovered over his screen, unsure whether or not to comment.

“Are you seriously going to school looking like that?” His voice was tight, an edge of surprise and confusion beneath it.

You crossed your arms, leaning back in the doorway. “What? You don’t like it? Your friends might.” You knew how to unsettle him. That much you were sure of. You wanted to push his buttons, make him paranoid.

Dick was the next to react. He put down his coffee, glancing over at Bruce before looking back at you. “I get that you’re, you know, trying something new,” he began carefully, but the unease in his voice was clear. He was trying to be supportive, trying to understand, but it didn’t take much to see how disapproving he felt. “But—”

“But what, Dick?” you interrupted with a sudden change of attitude. “You don’t like it? That’s a shame. It's so crazy I literally never asked.”

His mouth opened, but no words came out. He simply shifted in his seat, uncomfortable.

Jason snorted, clearly not impressed. “You trying to turn heads or get yourself in trouble? Skirt's too short, change that shit.” His voice was low, but it had a sharpness to it now. His gaze scanned you from head to toe, his mouth curving into an almost imperceptible frown.

You weren’t fazed by his dismissive and angry attitude. If anything, it made you want to lean into it more. “I'm not changing, you want alonger skirt? You go put one on and come talk.” You shrugged nonchalantly, your tone saccharine sweet. "And I don't want trouble, but i don't mind it."

“Yeah, I can tell,” Jason drawled, eyeing the large hoops dangling from your ears. “Nice hoops. Real classy.” His lips twitched, mocking the exaggerated size of them. "I didn’t realize big was your thing now."

You smirked, reaching up to tug at one of the hoops, the gesture playful, but intending to piss him off. “Big boys like big things, Jason,” you replied smoothly, without missing a beat. “And you know what they say, the bigger the hoop, the bigger the....” You were quickly cut off before you could finish talking and ruining everyone's apittite.

Damian, ever the hater, set down his cereal with a dramatic flare, slamming it down and glared at you. “You look like you belong in a cheap nightclub, not Gotham Prep. Should we drop you off on the nearest corner?” His words were sharp, cutting—typical Damian, though you could hear the pure anger in his voice.

You chuckled softly, not phased in the slightest. You'd rather be at a cheap nightclub honestly. “I’m just bringing a little fun to Gotham, Damian. You should try it sometime, maybe then you wouldn't be so hateful all the time." Your tone was uninterested, like his insults weren't even worth your time.

Steph and Cass exchanged a look, both clearly unsure of how to react. Cass, as always, seemed more interested in watching you than engaging, while Steph’s gaze flickered between you and the rest of the family. Barbra was just staring at you in disbelief.

“Is it really that bad?” Steph finally asked, though her voice wasn’t quite as gentle as it could have been. There was a nervous edge to it. “I mean, you’re, uh, pulling it off…” She trailed off, clearly unsure how to proceed.

You ignored her, who cares what she thinks? Her and the rest of them are irrelevant. If you like it then so what. Her comment did make your lips twitch into a smile subconsciously though.

Alfred, who’d been quietly observing the exchange, cleared his throat before standing. “Miss, I must say, it’s a rather bold change. But perhaps not one that will be received well by the staff and teachers.” His words were polite, but you could hear the disapproval in the undertones.

You gave him a bright smile, not at all sorry. “I’ll take my chances, Alfred. Don’t worry. I’ll be fine. I've played this game before.”

Bruce, who had been seething quietly, finally stood up from the table. His usual calm demeanor was replaced with a tense frustration. “Go change. Now.”

You raised an eyebrow, your lips curving into a slow, deliberate smile. “Make me.”

There was a flicker of surprise in his eyes, then something else, something more. He clenched his fists for a moment, clearly fighting to maintain control. But you weren’t backing down. Not this time.

“I’m not going to let you walk out of here like that,” Bruce snapped.

You didn’t miss a beat. “You won't let me do anything. I go to school like this or I don't go at all. And since when do you care?” You crossed your arms and stuck your foot out, pouting like a child, staring him down waiting for him to surrender.

Bruce hesitated for a moment, his expression softening ever slightly. “Fine. But you’re pushing it. You're not going like this tomorrow.”

Bruce 0, You 1.

Jason, who had been watching the exchange with interest, chuckled. “You really know how to work him, don’t you?”

You flashed a smile at him, leaning back in your chair as you stood up and grabbed your bag, ready to leave the room. “Come on, let’s get out of here. We're already late. Jason, you driving?” Jason was the most fun, and he wasn't as nosy as Dick or Barbra.

Jason raised an eyebrow. “Yeah, I’m driving us all today. Come on, let’s go before Dad starts pulling rank.”

With a dramatic sigh, Bruce reluctantly agreed, shooting a last, disapproving look at your outfit before turning toward the door.

The engine of Jason’s car hummed steadily, but the air inside was anything but calm. You had decided to make this ride your moment. If you were uncomfy, you'd make them all feel the same. The others in the car—Damian, Tim, and Duke—were bracing themselves for your usual attitude, though this time you could tell there was a noticeable edge to the tension.

Jason, who was driving, was trying his best to keep his eyes on the road, but you knew he was glaring at you through the rearview mirror. Damian was next to you in the backseat, arms crossed and eyes narrowed, like he was ready to throw down at any second. Tim sat on the other side, buried in his homework, something to do with Gotham Prep’s ever-pressing academic requirements. Nerd.

And Duke? Duke was the least bothered, but you were sure he was mentally rolling his eyes at you the moment you stepped into the car.

You were far too busy with your phone, flipping through TikTok videos and checking your DMs, but every so often, you’d glance at the boys just to see their reactions.

“So…” You leaned forward a little, propping your elbow on the middle console. Your voice was light, casual, but you could feel the energy shift around you. You knew this would get under Jason’s skin. “You think any of the boys at Gotham Prep will notice my glow up? ”

You heard a long, heavy sigh from the driver’s seat before Jason muttered, “She's in that phase huh,"

But you weren’t listening. You were too busy smirking at Tim, who barely looked up from his book. You could feel his eyes narrow, probably out of sheer annoyance. “I mean, it’s inevitable, right?” you continued. “I'm 16 now, I'm better looking. Is there any fresh meat since I left? Anyone interesting, new friends maybe??"

Jason was silent for a moment, but you could see the grip on the steering wheel tightening in his peripheral. He wasn’t going to let you get away with this.

"Listen," Jason said, his voice calm but with that sharp edge he always used when he was trying not to lose his temper. "I don’t want to hear about boys, okay? Not today, not ever."

You blinked dramatically, as if you were the one being attacked. “Oh, come on, Jason, don’t be such a buzzkill. I’m not doing anything. I just wanna know if anyone’s looking.” You reached forward and pressed the button to connect your phone to the car’s Bluetooth, your nails clicking loudly across the screen as you searched for the perfect song to add to the atmosphere.

You knew you were getting to him. Jason was always so serious when it came to boys, always so guarded, especially when it came to you. It was fun getting under his skin. He glanced over his shoulder at you, but you were already half-distracted by your phone.

“Relax, Jase,” you shot back, ignoring his glare. “I’m not doing anything wrong. I’m just curious. It’s just—boys.”

You needed something to stop the ache that came with your new powers.

“Don’t make me pull this car over,” Jason threatened, his eyes flicking to the rearview mirror again.

You laughed softly, loving how easily you could provoke him. You leaned back in your seat, stretching out your legs, and noticed Damian watching you like he was deciding whether to strangle you with his own scarf.

“Damian, you’re so serious,” you sigh, you'd been ignoring him lately but you forgot how easy he is to provoke. “You know, you should loosen up. Boys are fun to look at, and to—” You cut yourself off before you could finish the sentence, letting the tension simmer.

Damian’s face twisted in that way he did when he was trying to pretend you didn’t bother him. “I don’t care what you do with boys,” he muttered. “But if you think I’m going to sit in this car while you talk about them like you’re some kind of—”

“Oh, no,” you interrupted with a teasing smile, “Not some kind of what? Some kind of what?” You stretched your legs a little further, drawing more attention to the hem of your skirt as you adjusted yourself in your seat. Making it even shorter now that Bruce wasn't here. You felt the eyes of your brothers boring into you, especially Jason's. “Honestly, Damian, lighten up. If you stopped being such a little grumpy loser all the time, you’d get more attention from girls. You have my looks y'know. ”

Tim, who had been pretending to focus on his homework this whole time, finally looked up from his papers with an exasperated sigh. “Can you not?” he asked, voice strained. “We’ve got school in twenty minutes. We don’t need a whole lecture about boys in the car.”

“Hey, no need to be so dramatic, Tim,” you said, turning your attention to your phone. You found your favorite song, the one that was guaranteed to annoy everyone in the car. “I’m just having fun. It’s not like I’m gonna do anything crazy. I just wanna know who’s gonna be there today."

You were making them all uncomfortable, and you loved it. You could already see Damian’s jaw tightening in the rearview mirror and Jason’s knuckles whitening around the steering wheel. Tim was staring at you like you were a whole new level of annoying. Even Duke rolled his eyes.

But that wasn’t enough. You needed them to be seething.

“I’m telling you right now,” Jason warned, his voice dead serious, “no boys today. No messing around. You’re going to class, and you’re staying focused. I'll check your phone if I have to. Got it?”

You put on your best innocent face, looking up from your phone as if you hadn’t just been causing a small riot in the car. “Okay, okay, Jason. No boys. I'm more into men anyway.”

Damian scoffed again, muttering something about how “pathetic” it was. You just grinned and rolled your eyes.

“Hey, you’re just jealous because girls don’t look at you,” you said, winking at him. “Maybe if you weren’t such a pain in the ass, you’d get noticed more.”

Duke, who had been quietly observing the entire conversation, finally spoke up from the backseat, his tone easygoing but with a hint of amusement. “You got any tips for me? Am I chopped liver”

You rolled your eyes at him, still not over his betrayal. “Glad you’re entertained, Duke. I don't think even I could help you.”

As you said that, you grabbed the aux cord and plugged it into your phone without asking.

Jason let out a sharp sigh, but you just grinned. “I’ve got it from here,” you said as you clicked on Drake’s Hotline Bling. The song blasted as you maxed out the volume. Damian looked like he was about to combust.

“You really are a pain in the ass, aren’t you?” Tim muttered under his breath, trying to focus on his schoolwork again.

You grinned. “I like to think of myself as entertaining.”

Duke nodded his head to the beat, tapping on his phone and Jason’s eyes darted to the rearview mirror, but you could see the playfulness in his face. He was trying not to smile, despite himself.

“I’m just saying, no boys today, no skipping, no trouble” Jason reiterated, trying to keep a semblance of control. “And if I hear anything about you messing around, we’re going back home, got it?”

You leaned back in your seat and stretched again. “Sure, sure, no boys. But just so you know, if i get into "trouble" it’s not my fault.”

Jason didn’t respond.

When you finally arrived at Gotham Prep you sighed, grabbed your bag, straightened out your skirt one last time, and nearly ran away from them so you didn't have to walk in with Duke, Damian, and Tim. “See you later, losers,” you said with a grin, pulling your sunglasses on as you walked away from the car.

Gotham Prep didn't know what's coming.

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[minswriting]

Head Empty, No Thoughts - Aaron Hotchner x Reader

About: You can’t focus properly because all you can think about is how much you desperately needed to be railed. Hotch, being the amazing boss that he is, helps his agent with quite enthusiasm.

Warnings: NSFW, MDNI, boss/agent dynamics, soft!dom aaron, praise kink, fingering, oral (f), unprotected sex, doggy style, aaron’s an ass man what can i say? porn with no plot. not proof read because that’s lame

Word Count: 3.4k

A/N: Hello my lovelies! Please make sure to reblog to support your content creators!! @nachrosas helped me with making sure this story is good lol. i hope you all enjoy! if you have any thoughts, feel free to send them in my inbox!

To say you’ve been having issues concentrating was an understatement. For the past few weeks, you’ve been going to work, trying your best to focus on cases, and yet, you could hardly concentrate on anything you’re meant to do. You simply follow orders and stay silent for the most part. It’s not that you didn’t want to work. You adored your job, even if it gets really hard sometimes. Your team is like your family, and you usually contribute to profiles and other parts of the case.

The issue was that it’s been months since you’ve had sex and it’s making you very grouchy and unable to think about anything else.

You craved to be touched, to be fucked so hard that you could cry from pleasure. Your last hookup, many months ago, hadn’t even been good. He didn’t make you cum once so you had to resort to using your fingers. And your fingers and toys can only do so much compared to being properly dicked down.

Currently, the team is on a case in Tampa, Florida. After a series of homicidal home invasions, you guys had been called to investigate. You tried your best to remain focused, drinking coffee, listening to Hotch giving orders, and hearing everyone give their ideas on the profile. And yet, you didn’t say anything. You didn’t give your perspective. You simply just listened with a neutral look on your face.

By the end of the night, when everyone had gone to the hotel to get some rest, Aaron had stopped you in the lobby to talk to you before you could go up to your assigned room. He put a hand on your arm, causing you to turn around to look at your boss. His brown eyes looked at you with concern despite his stoic facade. “Are you alright?” He asked softly, furrowing his eyebrows as he spoke.

You nodded your head, giving Aaron a small shrug. “Of course,” You replied. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“You’ve been very quiet the past few weeks,” Aaron said, looking at you as though he were analyzing your every move, profiling you. “Tense, too.”

“Well, I think we’re all tense all of the time, Hotch,” You joked, trying to change the subject. Of course, Hotch would notice that you weren’t yourself. You work with a bunch of profilers, and while the others always try not to profile the team, Aaron was one who usually profiled the team to ensure mental stability out on the field. It was his job to make sure you were all doing alright. However, you didn’t particularly want to tell your boss that you’ve been so…distant from work simply because you need to get railed. That would be awkward and unprofessional.

Aaron quirked an eyebrow at you, noticing the obvious change in subject. “You’re not usually so quiet during cases. Your insights are valuable on this team, and if something is plaguing you about your position, I need to make sure you’re doing alright, Agent.”

“Hotch, I promise it’s nothing related to the job,” You sighed, tilting your head. “I’ve just been distracted and frustrated, but it’s due to personal matters.”

“Perhaps talking about what’s bothering you could make you feel better?” Aaron pointed out.

You shook your head no, cheeks reddening in embarrassment as you thought about the idea of telling your boss about your personal issue. “I-it’s not something I should talk about,” You cleared your throat. “Especially with you.”

Aaron looked at you with a look of confusion, noticing how your cheeks got red. “Especially with me?” He asked, eyebrows furrowed once more. “What do you mean?”

You groaned internally at yourself with a small grimace on your face due to embarrassment. You realized that Aaron wouldn’t relent. He would interrogate you until the answer came out. So you decided to say “fuck it” figuratively. “I haven’t had sex in months,” you said bluntly. “And it’s been all I can focus on. But I’ll figure it out and I apologize it’s been affecting my work. I’m going to go to my room now.” And with that, you turned around and quickly walked away, not waiting for your boss to respond.

When you had gotten to your room, you quickly opened the door and closed it behind yourself, throwing your bag to the side as you quickly went to bed, burying your face into the pillow and letting out a muffled scream. You took a deep breath before turning onto your back and looking up at the ceiling. To say you were officially embarrassed was an understatement. You were mortified. You had confessed to your attractive boss that you hadn’t had sex in a long while and that it was affecting the way you worked.

With a sigh, you got up from the bed and went to your go-bag, grabbing a lavender purple nightgown before going to the bathroom and taking a shower. And once you had gotten settled into bed, reading a book, there was a sudden knock on your hotel room door. You checked the time, noticing how it was after midnight.

You closed your book, putting it onto the nightstand before getting out of bed. You smoothed out your nightgown before walking over to the door. You opened the door a crack, just to see who was standing there. Aaron stood there, still dressed in his suit but without the jacket. You opened the door all of the way. You immediately blushed as the embarrassment came rushing back. “Hi,” You said quietly, feeling exposed as you were only wearing your nightgown while Aaron was still in his work clothes.

“Can I come in?” He asked, looking at you with a look that you can’t quite place. You didn’t say anything as you stepped to the side, allowing Aaron to walk in. You closed the door behind him, biting your lip in nervousness. You turned to look at Hotch, not saying anything as he looked at you. He not-so-subtly looked you up and down before meeting your eyes. “You’ve been frustrated,” was all he said.

You nodded your head, heart pounding in your chest. “I have,” you said hoarsely.

He paused for a moment, as though he were thinking of what to say next. “You know,” he began. “If there’s an issue with one of the members of my team, it’s my duty to find a solution.”

“What do you mean?” You asked, furrowing your eyebrows in confusion. “This isn’t something for you to find a solution to.”

Aaron let out a sigh, a break in his usual stoic demeanor. Being outright with himself was hard as he usually hid his emotions and thoughts from those around him. “I’m saying that I can help you,” he exclaimed, taking a step towards you.

“What?” You asked, still clearly confused but you had an inkling of what this was about. As Aaron got closer, you stayed put.

And when he reached you, he tentatively put a hand on your cheek, running his thumb across your skin. “I can help you,” he whispered.

Your breath hitched at Aaron’s touch. You felt dazed as you looked into his brown eyes. “Hotch-“ you whispered, not quite knowing what else to say. You couldn’t help but glance down at his lips, fighting the urge to just lean in and kiss him. Your gaze moved back to his eyes.

“What sort of boss would I be if I allowed my best agent to wallow in her frustration?” He asked huskily, leaning in, his breath fanning over your face. All you could smell was Aaron’s cologne and the faint smell of whiskey. And without waiting for your response, Aaron’s lips were on yours, kissing you tentatively as if he were afraid you’d pull away. But when you made a soft noise and kissed Aaron back, he deepened the kiss, moving his other hand to your waist and pulling you closer to him.

You didn’t quite know what to do with yourself other than to kiss Aaron. You couldn’t deny the obvious attraction you felt for your boss. You had kept it a secret, not wanting to ruin the professionalism that had been built between the two of you. But now, as Aaron’s chapped lips moved against your soft ones, you could hardly find yourself to care. Especially when it has been far too long since you’ve done anything.

Aaron’s hand moved from your hip to the bottom of your nightgown, lifting it up a bit. After a few minutes of kissing one another deeply, Aaron pulled back slightly, resting his forehead against yours. “Tell me to stop at any point,” he whispered.

“Please don’t stop.” You whispered back.

And without any hesitation, Aaron kissed you again. His tongue licked your bottom lip and you graciously parted your lips for him, allowing him to explore your mouth with his tongue. His hand went underneath your nightgown, slowly trailing upwards. Your breath hitched when his fingers reached the waistband of your panties. He pulled away from the kiss, moving to kiss your jawline and neck as his fingers slipped underneath the waistband.

His middle finger touched your slit, feeling the wetness that had pooled. You gasped at the feeling, bringing your hands to Aaron’s shoulders. “You’re so wet,” he said against your skin, trailing his finger from your hole to your clit before he began to gently rub circles against the nub.

You moaned softly, eyes fluttering shut. Aaron moved his head so he could look at you. He continued to rub soft circles with his middle finger before dipping it into your hole, gently inserting the digit. The way your body jolted at the intrusion made Aaron chuckle breathily. He began moving his finger in and out of you at a teasingly slow pace, getting you used to the feeling. “You’re so beautiful,” he murmured.

You opened your eyes to look at Aaron, who was already looking at you. Your lips were parted as he gently moved his finger. And after a few moments, he added a second one, immediately curling his fingers. You let out a choked moan, maintaining eye contact with Aaron, as you held onto him. You felt drunk on lust, finally getting pleasured by someone other than yourself. “A-Aaron,” you moaned, breathing heavily.

“Beautiful girl,” he said, his thumb tracing your cheekbone. “Does it feel good?” He asked as his fingers moved at a slow pace inside of you, hitting your g-spot with each movement.

You nodded your head.

“Use your words.”

“Yes,” you whimpered.

“Good girl,” He said with a small smirk on his lips as he moved his fingers inside of you faster.

A shiver went down your back at the praise, an action that didn’t go unmissed by Aaron’s eyes. You began moaning louder, feeling that familiar heat building inside of you as Aaron’s digits moved with purpose. “I-I’m so close,” you whined.

Aaron hummed, keeping the pace. “Go ahead, baby, let go for me,” he said breathily.

And with a few more pumps of his fingers, you came, legs shaking as you tried to hold yourself up as you came undone on his fingers. Aaron’s free arm immediately moved to wrap around your waist, holding you upright. You threw your head back, whining with pleasure. When you finished you opened your eyes, looking at Aaron as you breathed heavily.

He withdrew his fingers from your cunt, bringing the digits to his mouth and sucking on them until they were clean. He moaned at the taste, the sounding sending sparks down to your pussy.

You couldn’t help yourself from looking down, seeing the bulge in Aaron’s pants. He looked so painfully hard and you wanted to help him just as he was helping you. You brought your hand to his bulge but before you could touch it, Aaron grabbed your hand. “Not yet,” he said, licking his lips. “Tonight’s about you.” And with that, he gently pushed you over to the mattress, making you sit on the edge.

You watched as Aaron got on his knees in front of you, looking up at you with his chocolate brown eyes. He lifted your nightgown just enough to reveal your panties. He put his fingers on the waistband, pulling them down and off of you. “I need to taste you, baby,” Aaron said, licking his lips as your bare cunt was revealed to him. “Is that alright?”

“Y-yes,” you whispered, looking at him with anticipation.

“Good girl,” he hummed before spreading your legs, burying his head between your thighs as he dived right in. His tongue licked a stripe on your pussy.

You immediately whined, eyes fluttering shut as Aaron’s tongue began to lap around your pussy. He circled your clit before putting his lips on the nub and sucking gently. “O-oh fuck,” you moaned as you entangled a hand in his hair, tugging at his locks. Aaron let out a groan against your cunt, sending vibrations through it. “Feels so good, Aaron,” you whined, throwing your head back in pleasure.

What was at first gentle quickly turned into Aaron eating you out like a starved man as he quickly got addicted to the taste of your pussy. He sucked on your clit, lapped his tongue around your cunt, dipped his tongue into your hole as his nose rubbed against your clit. He was messy with it in the best way possible.

It didn’t take long until you came for a second time that night, clenching your thighs around Aaron’s head as you arched your back and tugged at his hair, moaning his name so loudly that you were sure anyone sleeping in the room next to yours could hear.

And when you came down from your high, you relaxed against the mattress, allowing your back to fall onto the soft fabric. You breathed heavily, your chest moving up and down. Aaron pulled away from your cunt, his face absolutely covered in your juices. “You alright?” he asked, licking his lips.

You nodded your head, looking at Aaron with a small lazy smile. “So good,” you giggled gently.

Aaron chuckled, unbuttoning his shirt. “We aren’t done yet, baby,” he exclaimed, tossing his dress shirt to the side before undoing the belt of his pants. “If we’re doing this, we’re doing it properly.”

You bit your lip as you watched Aaron undress. He was so fit and toned. You watched in anticipation as he tossed his belt to the side before unzipping his pants. He pulled them down along with his boxers, his cock slapping against his stomach. He was so hard, his cock red and leaking with precum. You couldn’t help the whimper that left your lips as you looked at it because he was hung, to say the least. “You’re so big,” you whispered in fascination. “Will it fit?” You’ve never had sex with anyone as big and thick as Aaron.

“You flatter me,” Aaron exclaimed, a teasing smile on his lips. He gave himself a few tugs before walking over to you. “We’ll make it fit.” He said simply. “On your hands and knees.” He commanded.

And you obliged without hesitation. You turned yourself so that you were on your hands and knees, your ass in the air. You felt a light smack on your ass, sending tingles down your spine. “God, you’re beautiful,” Aaron said as he massaged the flesh of your ass.

He then grabbed your hips, pulling you closer to him before lining his cock to your pussy. He teased himself and you, spreading your wetness along his tip, causing him to hiss in pleasure and for you to let out a whimper.

He then lined himself to your entrance, slowly easing his cock inside of you. You whimpered again, this time louder as Aaron stretched you. The slight pain you felt was worth it as you were finally being filled for the first time in months. And then Aaron bottomed out, you felt him pressing so deeply inside of you in a way you had never felt before.

“You’re so fucking tight,” Aaron groaned, keeping himself still.

“You’re so fucking big,” you whined in response. Both of you stayed still for a bit, allowing you time to adjust. And when the sting subsided, you let out a breath. “You can move.”

Aaron gently pulled his hips back before slamming into you again. He was slow with it but hard, making you really feel his cock inside of you. You yelped in pleasure, eyes closing. Aaron had one hand on your hip, the other on your right buttcheek as he thrusted into you at a slow pace.

“F-faster.”

“Say please.” Aaron replied, keeping the slow pace.

“Faster, please,” your voice hitched as Aaron pressed himself deep inside of you again.

“Good girl,” He said before moving his hips faster. His cock began hitting your g-spot deadass, causing you to moan much louder than before.

“O-oh my,” you moaned. You stopped holding yourself up with your arms, allowing your head to fall forward onto the sheets as your hands gripped them. Aaron’s pace was brutal as he very much did not hold himself back. This is exactly what you meant by needing to be railed. “So good!” Your voice was muffled from the sheets.

“You feel so good, my pretty girl,” Aaron groaned, watching the way your ass bounced with the harshness of his thrusts. He smacked it again, this time harder than before.

You whined in response, pressing yourself against Aaron as you began meeting his thrusts with your own movements. Your nightgown was ridden up to your chest, the straps falling from your shoulders.

“Fuck,” Aaron groaned, tilting his head back as he fucked you. You were so wet and tight around his cock. He knew that he wouldn’t be able to last long. He swallowed, moving back to look at you. You were absolutely gorgeous in the position you were in.

The whole scene was quite obscene and pornographic. Your ass was up, your back arched as your head was buried in the mattress. The sounds of your moans filled the air along with the loud smacking of skin hitting skin. Not to mention the fact that your pussy was so wet that you could hear the noises of it with every thrust of Aaron’s cock.

You felt that burn building once more as Aaron’s cock moved inside of you. Your eyes were rolled back from the pleasure as he fucked you so good. “I-I’m so close,” you mewled, your walls clenching around Aaron’s length.

“Ah,” Aaron groaned. “Be a good girl and cum for me, yeah?” He said, putting both hands on your hips as he drilled himself into you. “My beautiful girl,” he said with each thrust.

When your orgasm hit, it hit you hard. You came with a choked sobbing moan that you were sure other people on the floor definitely heard. Your legs shook aggressively as you clenched tightly around Aaron’s length, moaning his name repeatedly. Aaron fucked you through your orgasm, keeping up his brutal pace as he chased his own high. With a loud groan and moan of your name, Aaron pressed himself deep inside of you as he came, spilling his seed.

And when he finished, he pulled out and you both collapsed on the mattress, Aaron lying down next to you. Neither of you spoke as you breathed heavily, basking in the post-orgasmic feeling. After a few minutes, when your breathing finally caught, you lifted your head to look at Aaron, who was already looking at you, and you both couldn’t help the small chuckles that left your lips as Aaron pulled you into his arms, holding you close.

The next morning, when everyone had met at the station to continue working on the case, you were much more like yourself. You were more focused, engaged with the team, giving your input on the profile. Everyone just assumed you had slept well. But every time you glanced at Hotch, there was a subtle exchange of thoughts as you both would briefly recall the previous night. A quiet agreement that you both would seek one another out for relief.

Because what kind of agent would you be if you couldn’t ease your boss’s stress?

[esote-rika]

Could I request Spencer with a really socially awkward reader(gn) who has to meet the team for the first time and just sort ends up hiding behind Spencer?

Feel free to ignore this if you're not up for it :)

Anon, thank you so much for this! I’m sorry it took a little long, but I hope you still enjoy it <3 Cute little drabble of Spencer being the best bf ever.

Contents: Mentions of alcohol, but otherwise, it’s just fluff!!! gn!reader.

Your hands are clammy when he takes them, a clear sign of your discomfort. Immediately, Spencer’s face softens, his features dappled pink and blue from the colorful lights of the bar. Neither of you drink, but his team is celebrating a case they successfully closed, and he’d mentioned it would be a good time to introduce you. The atmosphere is relaxed, after all, inhibitions dulled by alcohol and the knowledge of a job well done. 

For them, at least. You are operating under something entirely different. Nerves. Lots of it.

“You made it.” Spencer says brightly, before he wraps an arm around you and ushers you to their table. His team is all bright, welcoming smiles, and teasing remarks when they see you. You recognize them from the pictures, this group of people he’s come to know as his family. The cheeriest woman, Penelope Garcia walks up and gives you a big hug. Not expecting it, you stand there awkwardly, too busy wondering if you should return the gesture, but by the time you make up your mind, she’s already pulling away. 

Oops. You bite back a wince at your social blunder and manage a smile. 

“Spencer has told me all about you.” You say over the loud, thumping music. 

A chorus of replies. He spends all his time talking about you too, and You two are so cute, and I can’t believe Spence didn’t introduce you to us sooner! Lovely platitudes that you nod at. What exactly do you say to them beyond a thank you? Desperately, you wrack your brain for responses. Be witty, you chide yourself, charming. Make them like you.

But your words fail you in this moment, as they so often do. Small talk seems hollow, perfunctory instead of sincere, so you smile and nod politely as the comments continue around you. The more they go on about how it is to meet you, the more you seem to shrink into Spencer, smiling politely in response. You hope, desperately, that it's enough.

Once the initial round of introductions dies down, Spencer pulls you to a quieter table. The back of your neck is warm from all the attention, and you're worried his team may think you're being too clingy or antisocial. Surprisingly, his team doesn’t comment on it, moving on to get drinks and join the dance floor. Other people may have found it rude to retreat like this, but truthfully, you’re glad for the reprieve. 

Spencer’s hand is warm and heavy on your hip, pulling you tightly to his side. “Are you okay?”

You hum, nodding against his shoulder. “Your team’s nice.” 

“They are,” you feel his lips on your forehead, “But they can be a lot.”

You peak over his shoulder to look at the dance floor. Derek is in the middle of it with a few ladies, while JJ, Emily, and Penelope have their own little dance cluster. “They’re nice.” you repeat, “They just seemed excited.”

He chuckles, “Mhm, that’s because they’ve been wanting to meet you for weeks now.” 

You feel him pull back, and you have to fight back the urge to cling to him. He meets your gaze, brown eyes warm and glittering in the dim light. “Are you sure you’re okay? You’re not too overwhelmed?”

“I’m fine. I’m glad to have met them.”

He smiles, pleased that his reminders for his team had worked. He’d told them of your tendency to be awkward around new people and had asked them to accommodate it when they meet you. He’s just as nervous and eager for your introduction to be nice, but your comfort is of utmost importance to him. 

For a brief moment, he worried it wouldn’t work, but his team is gracious enough (and so excited over the fact that he has a relationship) that they’ve put on their best behavior and backed off immediately once they caught signs of your discomfort. You’re easy enough to read, and they’re highly trained profilers. 

“They already adore you.” he says, nose buried in your hair. 

You laugh, “You sure? I don’t know if I’ve made the best impression.”

“I’m sure.” his lips ghost across your hairline, “You weren’t even that bad. They’re used to so much worse.”

“Is that so?”

He nods, ducking down to press his lips to yours. “Need I remind you that they have to deal with me?”

Even more laughter escapes you, and you’re immediately put at ease, even more so than before. How could you not, when your boyfriend knows exactly what to say? Perhaps not to other people, but he’s so attuned to you and your needs that you just kiss him back in thanks.

[crepezinhos]

The Lion and The Fox

POV: Sunday has always had high expectations of you, his dear secretary, and his lovesick obsession for you has only made his trust on you increase uncontrollably. But now, he felt like his world was crumbling right in front of him when he learned that you were pregnant, and the father was the man he most despised, that he wish he could deport from Penacony, Aventurine.

⚠️ WARNINGS:

— This is a Yandere and Suggestive SFW Oneshot

— Reader is FEMALE and uses SHE/HER pronouns

— Contains: A lot of dirty-talking and racially-motivated talking, accidental pregnancy, bloody fighting, attempted murder, violent language and obsessive/possessive behavior.

— Yandere!Boss!Sunday x Pregnant!Reader x Yandere!Aventurine

— AU is: In-Game

“Ah, Y/N. You’re here.” Sunday turned his gaze away from the windowed wall of his office with a little grin growing in the edges of his lips to look at you, who was entering the room with embarrassment already taking you over.

“Hi… Mr. Oak.” You didn’t even dare ignoring his greet as you pushed the door back to its place from behind, especially considering how much he personally respected you.

But you immediately sighed in defeat as you realized how obviously awkward your tone accidentally came out of your throat, which you knew would alarm his attentive ears in a blink.

“Is everything okay?” And his speed to figure someone’s head out, or at least yours in particular, made you even less confident to keeping making eye contact at those mesmerizing amber eyes of his. “You seem very disturbed, dear.”

“Mr. Oak, I—” At the same you desperately wanted to vomit those words out of your chest, your logical thinking warned you that the conversation you were about to have with him right now would not be easy work, perhaps even heartbreaking.

Sunday begun silently walking away from his spot and going towards you, as if he was trying to avoid any explosive reaction out of you or comfort you. But unfortunately, his elegant apparent d and tall figure completely triggered the opposite out of you.

“I need to take a break.” You threw your head to the left as you confessed your intentions to him without any further context, paralyzing the Halovian. “Like… a few days or a whole week…”

“A whole week?” Sunday’s tone did not change, though, and after a few seconds waiting for a response, he finally figured you were too uncomfortable to speak any more without his leadership. “May I ask why?” He continued walking, a little more faster this time, cornering you against the wall even if his hands remained behind his back as usual.

“I’m not feeling quite well, Mr. Oak—”

“Please, address me as Sunday, dear.” You suddenly felt something wooly reach your left cheek and begin to caress it gently, figuring it was Sunday’s fingers after successfully cornering you against the door. “My apologies… I won’t interrupt you again.”

“I’m just feeling sick. That’s all…” You awkwardly finished yourself while trying to ignore his intimate demonstration of care.

“And you need a whole week to recover from it?” His tone shifted to a more serious one while that hand of his spread itself around your whole jaw and slightly pulled it upwards, forcing you to look at him again, and your silence made it obvious to him that you were either lying or hiding something from him. “Let’s sit down, dear.” His hypnotizing grin almost made you vomit the truth right there out of guilt.

Sunday released you and begun stepping towards where his office desk and fancy chair were, without acknowledging how quickly he had convinced you to speak the truth to him. That distressing nod in your throat was already unbearable on its own, but that you were being forced to tell such disappointing news to such a sweet and caring boss like Sunday, that truly admires you and trusts you deeply, just couldn’t be postponed anymore.

“I’m pregnant!” As soon as the distance between you and him was comfortable to you, when Sunday’s hand was about to reach his chair’s arm support, you let the beast out of its cage. “I am feeling sick indeed, but it’s because I’m pregnant and I have no idea what to do about it yet!” Your voice cracked a few times as you bowed your head down, tears barely glistening your eyes, but you did your best to hold them back and not stress Sunday, who had fully paralyzed in his spot.

…

…

…

“I beg your pardon?” Sunday slowly turned his head to you, the rest of his body immobile in its place.

“You heard me, Mr. O—… Sunday… I’m pregnant.” You crossed your arms and legs, leaning against the wall vulnerably.

And once again, Sunday didn’t say anything again some awkward seconds, causing your heart to beat even faster than it already was.

…

…

“P-Pregnant..?” This was one of the first times you’ve ever heard Sunday’s voice crack and stutter.

“Yes, sir.” You quickly nodded.

…

…

…

“Like… pregnant pregnant?” Sunday repeated himself again, a little more desperate.

“Yes, sir.” And you nodded to him again, a little more desperate too.

“When did you…” He didn’t know what to ask you due to the unprocessed shock. “For how long have you known this?” Sunday sounded a little madder as you expected, but at the same time you could feel some worry and anxiety coming from him as you saw him move a hand to his collar and start fidgeting his own tie.

“I took the test a few days ago, Mr. Oak.” Although you noticed how you referred to him in the wrong manner, Sunday didn’t seem to notice it, or at least preferred to not scold you again.

“How many people know about it yet?” Sunday finally turned his full body to you. After all, that question mattered a lot.

“None of my friends know about it yet, only the father and you, sir.” At this moment, it felt like all of your friendship with Sunday never existed in the first place, considering how incredibly negative his reaction was.

“Ah, yes… the father.” Sunday spat the word like a curse, scoffing at it right afterwards before pausing for a moment. “Who is the lucky man, Y/N?” Sunday decided to speak in a warmer tone, hoping it would help appeasing the suspense between you two, but it wasn’t quite useful to you.

“Sunday, I… I don’t think I should—”

“I have to know who the father is, Y/N.” He immediately shut you off with a shaky, anxious voice before you could fully reject him. “I don’t think it would be beneficial for us if the people of Penacony were to learn that the secretary of the Head of the Family… my secretary… is pregnant of someone of bad influence, especially if I was not aware of it or consenting to it. Don’t you agree?” Sunday’s voice cracked a few more times with his growing anger as his fingers became more aggressive with his tie.

You weakly nodded, feeling more tears rise up to your eyes. You were expecting Sunday to have a negative reaction indeed, but you did not expect him to be this bold. It even made you question your non-professional friendship with him. Was he not as attached to you like you thought? Was his kindness to you just a souvenir for your hard work? Have you two ever developed a friendship in the first place? If not, were you really just a secretary to him? If yes, how intimate are you two?

“This seriously endangers your job, Y/N, so if you don’t wish me to take extreme measures with you, tell me, dear, who is the father..?!” Despite his self-control, you noticed a pattern of how he was simply unable to hold all his anger when he mentioned the ‘father’.

You breathed in and out, preparing yourself for the bomb you were about to drop on him. After all, losing your job to this did not seem to be the smartest choice to be done, although the answer itself could still make you lose your job anyway.

“I believe the father is Aventurine, sir.” You closed your eyes as you told your version of the story, trying to make it more broad by stating as a theory rather than a fact, but you were certain that the baby was Aventurine’s.

…

…

…

Sunday scoffed.

…

…

…

“Aventurine?” Sunday’s tone deepened, almost falling into pure madness. “The Sigonian from the IPC?”

“…Yes, sir.” You weakly nodded again, finally finding some courage to open your eyes and look up to him.

“You’ve been going out with him?” Sunday’s tie wasn’t tucked under his white tuxedo anymore, and he was barely blinking his widened eyes.

“I believe you’re crossing a line of privacy, sir. I won’t be answering that.” You felt blood rush to your cheeks as you remembered your last date with the gambler, specifically when the baby was being made, speaking a little bit more annoyed.

“Why? He didn’t assault you or anything of the sort, did he, dear?” Sunday’s hands crossed around each other.

“No, sir.” Your tone went back to its previous shy one.

Sunday’s eyes finally dropped and stopped violently staring at you, looking around in confusion as he breathed in and out harshly. It did help you and your body to calm down, though.

“You know you can always trust me if there’s any danger going on in your life, right?” Sunday looked at you again with curiosity, which made your body stiffen again.

“Absolutely, sir.” You nodded more confidently. That statement reassured you about your previous thoughts about Sunday.

He really isn’t that bold. He never was. Today was just a minimal and reasonable exception.

“Good.” Sunday’s eyes got distracted again as he thought about all the facts that have been told, and you decided to contribute with your own silence.

…

…

…

…

…

“You know what? I must apologize to you, dear. What kind of man treats a pregnant lady like this? Only some uneducated punk… It was very childish of me, Y/N, I’m truly sorry.” Sunday suddenly relaxed in a blink, his hands going behind his back as usual while a cute grin took over his lips again as if he hadn’t almost gone mad in front of you.

After all, self-control is a really important aspect in this sort of job.

“No, it’s ok… I understand. I would be very worried too if I found out my secretary suddenly got pregnant.” Sunday hummed a giggle at your comment as you shrugged your shoulders.

“Go home, dear.” Sunday walked to you again, his hands landing on both your shoulders. “Go take a good rest. I’ve made you work enough this week.” His thumbs gently brushed your skin like wet porcelain, even raising them a few times to push some strands of your hair behind your ear.

“You’re… you’re not mad?” Deep down, you found his sudden change of behavior weird, and you weren’t exactly comfortable with it.

“Mad? Why would I be mad at you, dear? I trust you to make a smart choice about this.” And now that you were closely staring at his fine face, that smile, no matter how warm it was, it seemed to be betraying whatever was going through his mind. “Make sure to keep your commitment with the Family in mind, ok?” Sunday suddenly leaned his face to the right side of your face, his mouth hanging inches away from your ear as his voice suddenly turned serious.

“Of course, boss.” You nodded to Sunday, who patted your head in appreciation for a few seconds before finally letting you go.

.

SLAM!

All the human bodies in the casino were attracted by the loud bang of the double doors being against the walls as they were brutally pushed open, whispers beginning to accumulate onto each other as they realized it was Sunday Oak who walked in.

“Is that Sunday Oak?”

“I thought he condemned gambling…”

“What is he doing here?”

“Sunday Oak?”

“Should I ask for an autograph?”

“Isn’t he Robin’s older brother?”

Sunday couldn’t care less about any of those comments or the glances landing on him as he walked inside the flashy halls of the casino. He was entirely interested and focused on his hunt, and his hunt only.

After all, it didn’t take him more than 5 seconds to identify what he was searching for.

Aventurine.

The slim, blonde man sitting down lazily on a chair with spread legs and a pack of cards in his hands, accompanied by two other men playing with him, sitting in the opposite corners of the table, all of them shaping the form of a triangle where Aventurine was directly facing Sunday. The table was full of cards and chips thrown around it, even a few real credits too, showing that they weren’t just playing casually, and three cups of alcohol being the only objects standing still.

“Ah, the Head of the Family himself, Sunday Oak! What an honor it is to have you in my casino! What brings you here tonight?” The gambler put his cards facing down in the table to open his arms to Sunday in a warm greeting.

His purple eyes still managed to shine through the dark pair of sunglasses he was wearing and the whole dark ambient around them.

But Sunday’s murderous face didn’t appease a bit with his warm greeting.

“Leave.” He glanced down at the two other gamblers, who simply shared confused looks with each other and Aventurine when they heard his order. “NOW!” Both men immediately flinched upwards hearing his scream, fleeing from their seats as if they were fleeing for their lives.

After all, who would be insane enough to challenge the Head of the Family?

As soon as the steps of the coward men started to become faint murmurs in the ambient, Aventurine finally started taking advantage of their privacy to speak again.

“See… when I say that you’re always welcome in here, Mr. Oak, that doesn’t necessarily mean you have the right to interrupt any of the games—”

“You got Y/N pregnant..?!” Aventurine’s smirk grew as he realized what was Sunday’s objective in his casino and how angry he was due to it, even if he had been interrupted.

“Ah… so you’ve heard the news…” Aventurine proceeded to grab the glass of liquor sitting closest to him and took a sip of it. “It is also an honor to have being the first person to congratulate me…”

“Congratulate you..?” Sunday’s eyes widened in audacity at his words. “Congratulate you?! For what? For making such an absurdly irresponsible decision?!” Sunday finally dragged one of the empty chairs closer to him and sat himself down at on it, both his hands slamming the table while Aventurine simply mired down at the liquor in the glass. “You’re a gambler, and you’re completely addicted to it! What is wrong with you?! What kind of man sustains his family by gambling?!” Aventurine couldn’t help but scoff at his words as his eyes finally looked up to meet his again, starting a war of eye contact.

“Oh, please, we both know that you’re not mad at the fact that I’m a gambler about to become a father.” The gambler finally placed the glass back to the table, his arms crossing as he leaned against the chair.

Sunday refused to answer him although both men had a lot of privacy to discuss such an intimate topic.

“You’re mad that it’s not going to be a beautiful and cute Halovian baby growing inside her with cute little wings on his head and a shiny golden halo that will grow to be the Family’s next prodigy..! And instead, it’s going to be a little Sigonian trash with cursed fortune.” Aventurine used his hands to point at Sunday’s features and his owns, but it didn’t trigger Sunday to answer him, despite his boiling annoyance. “Not that? No? Then it might be that… you’re mad at the fact that it wasn’t you who made the path inside her womb first?” Aventurine uncrossed him arms and set them on table while leaning his body a little closer to his to challenge him, finally causing Sunday to slightly snap.

After all, an obsessed man like him could not handle the imagination of his perfect pure darling being bred by the man who directly competes with him for her, all twirled around his figure and showing him your nudity.

“You little shit…” Sunday fisted his own hands as his eyebrows to frown in the table’s cloth as he tried avoiding those sinful thoughts.

“Me?” Aventurine’s eyes widened with Sunday’s hypocrisy. “Imagine you’re constantly trying to hang out with this marvelous, jaw-dropping and inspiring woman, but she’s always rejecting you because she was either working in a Saturday night, or too exhausted from it on Sunday, hum? You feeling me now?” Aventurine tried waiting for an answer, but Sunday refused to let himself downgrade to the gambler’s level and backed down again. “I think I should actually thank you for making her exhausted and home-alone during her precious weekends. You’ve surely left that woman touch-starved, and I certainly took advantage of that whenever I insisted in visiting her in her home… She’s actually extra tight when she’s stressed.” Aventurine winked at him, intentionally ignoring Sunday’s unblinking, widening eyes. “Just to think about my cock suffocating inside that tiiight pussy of hers while she begs for me to keep ravishing it nonstop makes me so hard…” Aventurine was rubbing his legs together under the table to avoid his slight erection to grow any further under his pants while his cheeks slightly reddened.

“You hell-sent maniac…” That was all Sunday could mumble without exploding. “Do you even listen to yourself? Is this the poor vocabulary that poor kid would learn from their father? You have absolutely no conditions of being a father. I know it, you know it, Y/N knows it. Do you have any idea how worried she was when she was talking to me about this mess? Do you think she’d be that worried about it if I was the father of her child, hum? Do you think she’s happy to be pregnant of you?” Sunday finally decided to take some dominance in the conversation and leaned closer to Aventurine.

“Do you think she’d be any happier to pregnant of you, Mr. Oak? Her manipulative boss that takes advantage of her every free second to keep her revolving around you, yet, refuses to take a single step forward with your relationship with her and keeps edging her pleasure in you?” Aventurine sounded a little angrier as he described Y/N’s work ambient.

“You know nothing about me and Y/N…” Sunday hissed at him. Deep down he knew he had a fair point and that he had to change his relationship with her if he wanted to conquer her heart.

“Well, I certainly know all of this would’ve probably been avoided if you weren’t the coward that you are, and asked her out before I did. Now, even if you did manage to make her fall in love with you and make her your wife, you’d never be able to get rid of the shape of her insides, forever prepared to receive me inside her instead of you because she knows who introduced her the magic of paradisiacal pleasure.” Aventurine twirled his fingers together and set his chin on top of them, his face proudly hanging on it.

“You do realize Y/N is most likely going to abort that cursed baby, right?” Sunday finally found an opportunity to counter Aventurine, smirking in victory after all those sexual comments of you Aventurine has been doing to frustrate him.

“Good for her.” Aventurine shrugged his shoulders, dumbfounding Sunday, who allowed his smirk to die for a moment.

Sunday didn’t understand. Wasn’t he cheerful about her pregnancy? Wasn’t he happy about claiming her womb first and making her a mother before him? Wasn’t he initially arguing with Sunday about being a father?

“You’re just bluffing. I know you’re disappointed.” Sunday brought his grin back before Aventurine could take dominance again, trying to convince him to let that guilt out of his mind.

“I don’t think you’ve understood it yet, Mr. Oak… I don’t intend to be a father. Never intended to be.” Aventurine spoke with a straight face, very relaxed as he confessed his feelings, unlike Sunday.

“I beg your pardon?” Finally, Sunday felt challenged again, so his smirk died again and never rose again.

“Sure, it would be disappointing if she did decide to abort the baby. After all, the idea of repopulating my clan back to this world sounds good to me… but I got her pregnant simply because I want to get her away from you, and that pregnancy is going to force her to take a break from you, and maybe eternally. I already heard you did let her go home today, so it’s already working! Thank you, Mr. Oak!” Sunday was entirely speechless at Aventurine’s confession, not a single full phrase managing to form in his head as the gambler paused again to take another sip of his liquor.

And Sunday knew he had more to add onto that confession, seeing how he swallowed the liquor quickly.

“It surprised me how all it takes to impregnate a woman is a single little puncture in a condom… Make sure to double-check your condoms before sex, Sunday! Protection isn’t a joke!” Sunday couldn’t believe all he had to add to his confession was a joke.

“You..! You did it on purpose?!” Sunday hissed as if he wanted to squeeze the gambler’s head until it crushed into a gory mess.

“Congratulations, Mr. Oak! We can finally have a man-to-man conversation!” Aventurine threw his hands in the air cheerfully as if he was celebrating his birthday.

“Do you have shit in your head instead of a functional brain?! Do you realize you’re putting the life of a child on stake and even her trust on you?! You’re a monster! You had no right to fool Y/N like that!” Sunday was finally finding out how little power of you he had on his hands, his anger finally spilling from its chamber.

“Oh? But you have the right to keep overworking her with the stupidest tasks ever? Making her bring you breakfast and lunch from the cafe with the stupidest exigences ever?! Like ‘No veggies, only keep the onions’, ‘Diet raspberry juice’ and ‘Strawberry cupcakes for desert with no sprinkles or extra frosting’? To make her rearrange your whole calendar for the month because you suddenly have a doctor’s appointment in the middle of month? Knowing she’s not intelligent or bossy enough to tell you’re just taking advantage of her position and her trust on you? That you’re a very busy man and genuinely can’t deal with fucking calendars on your own?” Aventurine also dropped his smirk, speaking in a more angered one as well.

“It’s her job, and I’m her boss. And don’t you worry about it because Y/N gets some good money for all her hard work and she loves me for it.” Sunday defended himself a little proudly. It was a good reason to keep her busy with him.

“And I’m just a great fucking friend! See? We’re both playing dirty here…” Aventurine giggled at his own pun, which made Sunday’s wings to twitch.

“Don’t imagine it… Don’t picture it…” Sunday thought to himself, and Aventurine took advantage of his silence.

“And, think about it, what is the worth in all the money you apparently give her if she can’t find herself some time to spend it because her boss can’t let her enjoy her weekends, hum?” Aventurine crossed his arms, settling them on the table to keep himself still leaning close to Sunday’s face.

“As soon as I get you out of my way, I’ll make sure she’ll have a lot of time to enjoy her life with me as her company.” Sunday threatened him with a mean smirk in his face, finding joy in Aventurine’s struggle.

“I don’t think you’ve realized it yet, Sunday. Y/N is already mine. All, all mine. She’s been mine for a long time now and will always be mine. Your little tricks to imprison her with you are clever, but you know how gambling with me works. I’ll always find my way out of risk and become the winner. And if Y/N is clever enough to remember this little fact, you might face a serious danger of her deciding to keep the baby.” Aventurine’s irises were trembling with excitement and hatred for Sunday as he talked about his possession over you.

“We both know she won’t.” Sunday hissed, still keeping his smirk, although he was doing a great effort to not punch the gambler’s face.

“How do you know, hum? Y/N is the kindest soul in this planet! I don’t think she’d opt to interrupt that growing life inside her so easily like you think. Maybe she’ll start sympathizing with it and decide to accept the duty of raising it with me as the father and provider. And if that happens, what are you going to do, huh? Shove your hand inside her womb and abort the baby yourself? You can’t do anything!” Aventurine cackled at the thought of Sunday trying to get rid of the baby inside you or convincing you to do it and pathetically being defeated.

“Maybe I’ll fire her. I can’t afford to have a secretary who’s going to birth a disgusting Avgin nor can she afford her life without the salary I give her… It’s a fair trade!” Sunday threatened enthusiastically, although in his mind he knew he’d never do that to you.

“Oh, really? And make her hate you forever? What a stupid way to give me the opportunity to finally imprison her with me, Sunday! Maybe she’ll learn how great it is to have me as her sugar daddy…” Aventurine threw himself in the chair and I’m his arms in the arm as if he was receiving a gift from Sunday.

“Or maybe I’ll take the matter to my own hands and marry her with me before you. And trust me, gambler, I’ll make sure you have the lowest share of custody, or maybe even none. I’m the head of the Family Oak. I own this whole planet in the palm of my hand.” Sunday also rose his hands in the air and inflated his chest, trying to demonstrate the size of the power he owns.

“Yet, you can’t stop the woman you love from fucking with other men.” Aventurine hummed some giggles while Sunday had to stop himself again to impede his brain from picturing that scenario. “I would rather die than let a baby of my blood to be raised by you. To be raised like a mere annoyance in the house… forever incapable of making his daddy proud of him because he’s not his real son… destined to be overshadowed by his future siblings… Both Y/N and the baby would be happier to have me taking care of them instead of you.” Aventurine’s tone deepened again, his arms lowering sown to his knees and gripping them to control himself.

“I will not lose Y/N to you, gambler. I don’t care if that baby would not be the happiest one in the world. I refuse to let you have her for another single minute of your life with those dirty hands of yours.” Sunday spat his prejudice for the gambler with no remorse.

“Oh-ho? Are you afraid I’m a better womanizer than you, Mr. Head of the Family? That my ‘dirty hands’ are capable to make Y/N moan my name in a volume you’ll never be able to get out of her?” Aventurine stared at the deepest corners of Sunday’s eyes.

“Quiet.” Sunday hissed barely above a whisper.

“That my fingers will penetrate that wet pussy of hers while I devour her throbbing clit with my dirty Avgin mouth? Oh, yeah, I’ve already done that!” Aventurine brought a hand closer to Sunday, only to thrust the air with his ring-finger and middle-finger a few times, pretending it was your pussy.

“Shut. Your. Mouth.” Sunday made sure to pronounce every syllable of his order slowly, exciting Aventurine to keep teasing him even further.

Sunday’s cheeks were reddening with arousal as he couldn’t hold back the few pictures his brain illustrated for him of Y/N’s naked body being touched by Aventurine, meanwhile the gambler moved his hands to his body and started brushing his own body in a suggestive way.

“Ohh~… Aventurine..! You feel sooo good around me~… Oh, right there..! Fuck me right there, Aven..!” Sunday’s fingers gripped on the table’s cloth as if that was the only thing keeping him from having a boner on his own, trying to force himself to focus on the gambler’s threat rather than his pathetic teasing. “Ah, yes~! Touch me, Aventurine! Touch me!” Aventurine put his own palms on his own breasts and gently fondled them, which made Sunday feel so disgusted he slightly backed away from the pervert in front of him.

“Do you seriously think acting like this is going to annoy me?” Sunday bluffed, betraying his own mindset. “I must thank you for the spoilers, though.” He shrugged his shoulders, pretending there wasn’t a noticeable tent growing in his pants.

“See? Even you recognize you’ll never be her first in anything because I’ve been there first!” Aventurine dropped his act, jumping back to the table, leaning over to challenge Sunday with a creepy expression and a proud smile. “Every Saturday night, when you decided to send her a ‘Goodnight’ message and ask how she was doing, I was already pining her down on her own bed and taming her pussy.” Sunday’s mind was unfortunately too attracted to that scenario, forcing himself to think about it.

Thinking about your insides being stretched by the gambler, your breasts fondled by the gambler, your pretty moans being listened by the gambler, your mouth kissing the gambler, your clothes being taken off by the gambler…

All by that stupid gambler, and not him.

“Focus, Sunday. Focus. Focus on the gambler.” Sunday thought to himself.

“Sometimes I even answered you for her, y’know? Sending you a ‘Goodnight’ with cute a heart sticker, pretending to be your dear woman while the real one was gagging on my cock.” Sunday’s eyes widened as he heard that disgusting confession.

Every time you talked to him at nighttime, Sunday would think about what were you possibly doing while texting him. Maybe you were changing yourself into your pijamas, specifically a beautiful nightgown of his favorite kind. Maybe you were kicking your feet and your cheeks were red because you were talking so intimately with your sweet and handsome boss.

How did you even save his contact as? Most likely ‘Mr. Oak’ or maybe ‘Mr. Sunday’ because of your professional relationship with him, but maybe it is something more friendly like ‘Sunday’ or ‘Sunday ❤️’.

But now all those fantasies that made fall in love with you even harder, were crushed by the gambler’s words, and he was really hoping the man was just bluffing to annoy him.

“You disgusting piece of crap..! You had no right to do that!” He hissed as his mind pictured more and more dirty illustrations.

“Seeing you smirk at me every time I passed her to you, thinking you were in charge of her and that I was losing precious time with her, made me want to laugh. Poor you..! You had absolutely no idea! You could’ve died without knowing!” Aventurine started cackling as he saw Sunday’s destroyed ego.

Sunday couldn’t believe it either. The gambler was right, and he did not plan on ever admitting it. To think that he has been interpreting you so wrongly all along and that that Aventurine was taking advantage of his foolishness was making him ache in need for revenge.

It was embarrassing to see a man of his level of money, power and intelligence to commit such a rookie mistake, of letting your weekends free of his obsessiveness and stalking, and find himself in the edge of losing to someone so weaker than him.

But Aventurine didn’t notice Sunday’s breathing becoming louder and louder.

“That’s why I had to show you the truth. To show you who is truly in the lead.” Aventurine unexpectedly leaned closer to Sunday until he was a few centimeters away from his right ear, invading his personal space. “That’s why I made a little hole in my condom before going to her home and ejaculated a lot of sperm inside that pussy when we were having sex. Thousands of my little spermatozoids… finding a way out of that rubber barrier and swimming their way inside her womb, claiming ‘your’ territory…” Sunday shit his eyes, trying to control his painfully quick heartbeats while Aventurine kept enjoying the mental torture. “And trust me, Sunday, despite her not knowing what I had planned for her, she was the one that kept begging for me to keep fucking her and to cum inside her again. Not a single cell of her body wants you—” Sunday unexpectedly unchained himself from the chair, violently grabbing Aventurine’s collar by his green uniform and fisting his knuckles across his cheek.

Sunday just couldn’t deal with his own imaginations anymore.

It hurt him to imagine you not desiring for him to touch you that way. The same way you’ve allowing the gambler to do. It couldn’t be true. He knew he could make you feel as good as the gambler did. All that he was missing was courage to ask you out. To think of Aventurine having the privilege to watch you during sex, giggling about Sunday’s obnoxiousness. To think of the gambler fucking you right in front of him, conquering your heart, and you enjoying it rather than asking him to stop and to saves by Sunday.

Even if it was just a dark fantasy. A horror one. One that would never come to be true, if it depended on you at least, he smacked Aventurine’s face as if he wanted to avoid that possibility as much as he could. He did not want that scum making someone like you fall in love with it anymore.

Although the punch itself wasn’t hard enough to make Aventurine drop his smirk, it was surely made him roll down from the table and vulnerably land on the floor along with a few cards, chips and one of the wine glasses, that broke as soon as it touched the ground, and Sunday throwing himself on top of him.

“YOU FOUL DISGRACE!” Sunday kept attempting to spank Aventurine, who allowed himself to receive every single punch like a masochist while laughing at how Sunday snapped. “YOU HAD NO RIGHTS TO DO THAT TO Y/N!” Everyone in the casino already had their bodies turned to both men, some had even stood up to have a better view of the scene going on, all the whispers accumulating onto each other again.

“What’s going on?!”

“Are they fighting?!”

“Why are they fighting?!”

“Did Sunday Oak lose a bet?!”

“Who is Y/N?”

“They know each other?!”

“Punching me… won’t undo what has been done, Sunday! She’s pregnant! 100% pregnant!” Finally, Aventurine got bored of Sunday’s amateur boxing and rose his hands from the floor, clutched them around Sunday’s cranial wings, squeezing them hard to almost break its bones, and launched his forehead against Sunday’s.

“Who is pregnant?”

“This Y/N person is pregnant?”

“For God’s sake, who’s Y/N?!”

Sunday moaned loud in pain, accidentally weakening his weight on top of Aventurine, who quickly pushed him away from the top and reverted the positions.

“She’s mine… all mine!” Despite the few blood drops running down his nostrils and red marks in his cheeks, Aventurine kept smirking as if he was having the biggest thrill of his life. “And I’ll make sure to keep impregnating her every time I need to remember you who is in the lead! Over and over again!” Aventurine made sure to whisper his words about you and guarantee that nobody would gossip about their conflict, or at least gossip it with all the context behind it.

Aventurine’s punches were way more painful compared to Sunday’s, which was causing him to become so pained and desperate that he couldn’t even react to it, nor hold the gambler back. He doesn’t really tell people that he’s quite stronger than he looks. Although his slim body and smaller height sell the contrary image, all the years he spent being a slave strengthened his muscles forever, unlike Sunday, who has never quite invested in giving himself a buffer body. And the many rings hanging in his fingers, made of multiple gems, were making it only worse.

Sunday started to panic. So many people were witnessing the worst side of him, the Head of the Family, the representative of their planet, being in a casino and initiating a fight on it, one that he was also pathetically losing. After he’s given so many speeches about the importance of peace and the abolishment of violence, he was the first one to opt for violence when the stakes of a fight got too high? Even if he found a way to avoid the situation to escape everyone’s mouth, it still wouldn’t hide the multiple bruises in his face, and that would immediately denounce that he got involved in a fight, whether being who started it or not. Injuries like hematomas and cuts can take weeks to fully heal depending on their depth. How would he hide that from his public? His dear little sister? Gopher? Or… you?

“Oh, fuck.” Sunday thought.

Had he just made a bad decision? Had he embraced his instincts rather than his critical thinking?

He couldn’t let himself lose his reputation or influence so easily. He’d be willing to beg for Aventurine’s mercy as long as his face remained intact. So, that’s why he did his best to turn his face to the side while his arms and cranial wings crossed on top of it to create a barrier between him and Aventurine.

“What is it, birdie? Are you scared?! Come on, punch me again, I dare you!” Aventurine teased as he started digging his hands under his protection and undo it.

But Sunday was way more focused on the miracle laying in the floor by his side. The cup that had previously fallen in the floor and was ignored by them had broken into many big shards of glass, all beautifully laying down by his side and going unnoticed by the gambler.

How fun would it be to stab the foul gambler?

One of Sunday’s arms slowly reached out to the glass, but it wasn’t long enough to grab it, his fingers slightly touching the pointy tip of the glass. And unfortunately, a single arm on its own wasn’t enough to impede Aventurine from breaking through his barrier and curl his both hands around his neck.

“Bye-bye, Mr. Oak…” Aventurine’s eyes only widened in pure joy the more he suffocated Sunday’s throat.

Sunday grunted and gasped, trying to salvage the remaining oxygen in his body while his single hand kept helplessly trying to fight him back and pull at least one of Aventurine’s arms away of his neck.

Aventurine was so invested in his own sadism, watching Sunday’s face contort and crumble, that he still didn’t realize what was his other arm doing, slowly pulling the glass closer to his palm bit by bit.

And when Sunday’s fingers were finally able to pull that piece of glass close enough to him, with a swift movement, Sunday was finally able to—

“ENOUGH!” Aventurine was suddenly pushed away from Sunday by a security guard, immediately making Sunday’s lungs fill themselves with the oxygen he had lost while the glass stabbed nothing but the air.

And with the assistance of incoming men, Aventurine was quickly struck on the floor with his belly turned down and his hand locked together behind his back.

“Smart move, birdie! But, don’t you see..? You don’t stand a chance against my luck!” Aventurine cackled while he was momentarily being cuffed while Sunday was still recovering from the murder attempt.

“I’M GONNA KILL YOU!” Sunday couldn’t stand seeing that smirky face of his anymore and quickly stood up again, getting up on his feet again just to launch himself on the gambler again, the shard of glass already prepared to stab him.

But Sunday was immediately held back by even more guards that arrived in the scene, every muscle of his arms being held back while his legs desperately kicked the air.

“N-No!” He grunted in agony while one of the guards that cuffed Aventurine begun moving to Sunday and undoing his grip on the shard, pulling it away from him after a few seconds.

Aventurine kept cackling at the scene he watching, loving to see Sunday losing all his power and dignity in front of so many people.

“I PROMISE YOU I’M GONNA KILL YOU WITH MY OWN HANDS ONE DAY, YOU MANIAC!” Sunday spat his violent threat while still trying to launch himself towards Aventurine.

“Lets settle the bet, then! Whoever kills each other first gets to keep Y/N forever! Fair trade, ain’t it?” The gambler rose his head to talk to Sunday more confidently.

“AND I’LL MAKE SURE YOUR DIRTY CLAN WILL BE ERASED FROM HISTORY!” Slowly, both men were dragged afar away from each other, Aventurine being set in a sofa while Sunday was kicked out of the casino, rolling down a few staircases before finally finding himself wormed on the floor.

“Oh, wanna raise the stakes?! If I’m the one who kills you, then… your little sister will be punished too~…” Sunday fumed in anger as he thought of the murder of his little sister.

“DON’T YOU FUCKING DARE PUT ROBIN INTO THIS, YOU LITTLE SHIT!” Aventurine rolled his eyes in boredom with Sunday denying to raise the stakes of their bet.

“Get him out of my sight.” Aventurine looked at the guards and spoke more seriously, a smirk still displayed in his lips.

Sunday gasped when he begun being pulled away from his prey.

“YOU’RE DEAD, GAMBLER! DEAD!” Sunday made sure to state his final words before he was thrown in the streets.

Sunday rolled a few stairs down, ruining the perfect white color of his suit, but unfortunately he couldn’t stop to relax, ease the pain and fix himself because of the people that could be around him. So, he quickly got up from the floor and fled to a narrow corner between two tall buildings, surrounded by dark and trash and isolated him from anyone’s sight.

Meanwhile he fixed his suit, hair and face, while calling a cab to pick him up, Sunday kept insulting the gambler and even himself.

Sunday knew he should’ve asked you out long before all this situation, but he didn’t believe he had to do it since he didn’t think Aventurine’s competition was that dangerous. So, he preferred to wait until he believed you and him had developed a better friendship, and possibly sparked you to like him more than as a friend, a colleague or a boss.

But now, the race for your hand in marriage has started and Sunday is ready to cheat to win.

It doesn’t matter if he suffocates you with work.

It doesn’t matter if he has to kill Aventurine or the baby.

It doesn’t matter if he’ll not raise the baby without a lot of love and care.

It doesn’t even mattter if you don’t want to marry him in the first place.

He’ll win this bet.

Taglist: @komelliko @gaboplaydespacito

Don’t forget to like and comment if you liked it! <3

[trustmypoison]

Ateez confessing to their best friend

Requested? Yes!

Request: ‘‘Can you please do a headcannon of ateez confessing to their bestfriend that they have a crush on them?‘

Hongjoong

I think there would be an unspoken tension between you two that you’re afraid to address. When you think about it, there always has been. It’s something you dance around for a while until you just can’t. But you’re visiting him late in the studio one night and you both are looking at something together, sitting close, and then suddenly you’re kissing. When it’s time to come up for air, he feels quite a bit of confidence in saying, “I guess we should talk about that.” 

Seonghwa

He’s stunning and you’re not blind. Neither are a lot of other people. The thing is, he turns down people left and right. You don’t think anything about it at first, but when an idol that everyone chases after asks him out and he says, “Oh thank you, but I’m not interested,” you just have to ask. When you bring it up, he initially shrugs it off. When you ask if he’s already interested in someone, he flushes and says “It’s not important.” It’s only after a little arm-twisting that he finally admits he’s interested in you. He’d feel a lot of fear about this moment but would be so, so relieved if you returned his feelings. 

Yunho

You both already act like you’re dating so why are both of you surprised?? (I’m sorry, all I can see is the friends to lovers fic I wrote for him.) This sort of creeps up on him in a way that once he realizes how he’s always looking for and reaching for you, he can’t unsee it. I do think there would have to be an external force that would compel him to confess. Like if you were asked on a date by someone else and you asked his opinion, he would find himself saying, “I’d really rather you not.”

Yeosang

So fucking casual!! So casual in fact that it feels like it came out of left field. He just straight up asks you out and you have this horrible moment of confusion before the panic sets in, because you can’t ask something like that so casually after years of friendship!! But he does and he accepts that it’s a shock for you, but he really just wants to get it off of his chest. He’d totally go back to normal if you didn’t like him like that, but if you did? Not so casual anymore because the relief is obvious!! The casualness was totally fake!!

San

He’s so touchy that this is another one that to strangers you look like you’re dating. But the thing is, he’s touchy even when no one else is around. So imagine cuddling up to him on the couch and he goes in to kiss your cheek like he’s done a million times. Naturally (and stereotypically) you turn your head at just the right time that he ends up kissing the corner of your lips. He likes to see you flustered and acts like he doesn’t understand why. “That was a little close, don’t you think?” You’ll laugh nervously. He’ll shrug in a strong attempt to be casual and ask if that’s a bad thing. If you question if he actually would want to kiss you, he says, “Yes of course,” in an instant. 

Mingi

This is totally an overnight realization. One day, he wakes up and sees you that day and thinks, “Uh when did I become attracted to them??” His attitude will do a 180. He’s totally avoidant, and when he can’t avoid you he’s totally awkward. You actually think you might have done something wrong and one of the group members has to step in. The problem is that he’ll have let this go so long that you’re mad by the time he’s ready to talk. He has to confess and grovel. 

Wooyoung

He confesses so many times in so many ways and you really think he’s joking. It’s funny to him at first because he thinks you’re just a little dense. But over time, the confessions get increasingly more serious and you still aren’t getting it. This will be to the absolute delight of his members to watch him struggle with this. Eventually, he’ll reach a breaking point and just pull you into a kiss because it seems words just aren’t working. His head might explode when you ask, “Wait, are you into me???” and he’s just like, “Yes!!! I kept trying to tell you!!!”

Jongho

Another stereotypical moment, but bear with me. You have a bad partner that just isn’t treating you right and you’re upset for the millionth time. He’s almost scolding you when he says you shouldn’t put up with that sort of treatment and you can do worlds better. But you might be a little jaded that all relationships are like this. If you express this, he’ll just snap and say, “I wouldn’t be like that.” That’s most certainly something that he can’t back out of now. Not that he wants to because bitterness about watching you suffer in your current relationship has been building for a while and he has a lot to say. 

[innorris]

Rewind- L.N

Summary: Y/N, a famous singer, reunites with Lando Norris, the F1 driver she used to hook up with, when he makes a cameo in her new music video. Their past tension resurfaces, forcing them to confront feelings they never admitted.

Y/N’s POV

I adjusted the sequined dress one last time, staring at my reflection under the harsh lights of the studio. The fabric sparkled like it was supposed to, hugging my curves in all the right places. I looked perfect. At least, that’s what the world would see when the 2 Hands video dropped.

But inside? I was a mess.

I told myself it was just nerves. Big production, high expectations, Tate McRae standing in the next room rehearsing her part. But deep down, I knew it wasn’t that. It was him.

Lando Norris.

I hadn’t seen him in what—four months? Five? Not since we stopped whatever thing we had going. We weren’t together, we weren’t friends, but we weren’t strangers either. We were… complicated. Hookups in hotel rooms between his races and my shows, texts at 2 AM that turned into phone calls that lasted until sunrise. It was fun, easy. Until it wasn’t.

Until feelings got involved.

And then we both did what we do best—ran.

But now, here we were. The director had to pick him for this stupid cameo, and I had to act like seeing him again didn’t make my heart do that annoying flip in my chest.

“Alright, people! Lando’s here. Let’s get ready for the next scene!” the director’s voice echoed through the studio.

My pulse spiked. I forced myself to breathe, but when I turned around and saw him walk in—same messy curls, same effortless confidence—I nearly lost it. He hadn’t changed at all. But his eyes… when they met mine, there was something different. Something I couldn’t read.

“Hey,” he said, his voice casual, like the last time we spoke wasn’t an awkward, abrupt goodbye.

“Hey,” I shot back, cool and distant. I wasn’t about to give him the satisfaction of knowing he still had an effect on me.

“You look… different,” he said, eyes flicking over me in a way that made my skin heat up.

I raised an eyebrow. “Different good or different bad?”

His lips curved into that familiar smirk, but his voice softened. “Good.”

Before I could say something snarky, the director clapped his hands. “Places, everyone! This scene’s got tension, chemistry. I want sparks.”

Oh, there’ll be sparks, I thought bitterly.

The scene was simple: Lando walks into a dimly lit club, spots me across the room, and we lock eyes like there’s unfinished business. No acting required.

As the cameras rolled, our eyes met. And for a split second, it wasn’t just a music video. It was us, standing in the middle of everything we left unsaid.

“Cut!” the director called, but we didn’t move.

“You’re still good at this,” Lando murmured, his voice low, just for me.

I swallowed hard. “It’s called acting.”

He tilted his head, studying me like he was trying to figure me out. “Is it?”

I didn’t answer. I just walked off set, leaving him standing there like the ghost of everything I tried to forget.

Lando’s POV

I knew this was a bad idea the second I agreed to it.

When my manager told me about the cameo in Y/N’s video, I should’ve said no. Hell, I should’ve run in the opposite direction. But something about hearing her name again after all these months… it did something to me.

We weren’t supposed to get complicated. She was Y/N—the rising star, the girl with the killer voice and the laugh that stuck in my head long after we hung up. I was just supposed to be a distraction between her tour dates, and she was supposed to be mine between races.

But then it wasn’t just fun anymore.

I showed up at the studio pretending I had it under control. I’d see her, we’d shoot the scene, and I’d leave. Simple.

But when I walked in and saw her standing there in that silver dress, looking like she’d walked out of a dream I didn’t know I was still having, my plan went to shit.

“Hey,” I said, trying to sound casual.

“Hey,” she replied, cool and distant, like we hadn’t spent months tangled in each other’s lives.

“You look… different.” It slipped out before I could stop it.

She arched a brow. “Different good or different bad?

I hesitated. The truth? She looked better. Stronger. Like she didn’t need me anymore, and for some reason, that stung more than I wanted to admit.

“Good,” I said softly.

The director called us to set, and we took our places like professionals. But the second our eyes met for the scene, it felt like no time had passed. The tension between us wasn’t acting—it was real, thick enough to choke on.

When the director yelled, “Cut!” I couldn’t help myself.

“You’re still good at this,” I murmured.

“It’s called acting,” she shot back, her voice sharp enough to draw blood.

I tilted my head, searching her face for a crack in the armor. “Is it?”

But she just walked away, leaving me standing there, wondering when the hell things got so messy.

Y/N’s POV

I thought I could shake it off. Get through the shoot, avoid him, move on. But every time I turned around, he was there, lingering at the edges of my mind like a song I couldn’t get out of my head.

After the final scene wrapped, I tried to slip out quietly. But of course, he caught me.

“Y/N,” he called, his voice softer now, less cocky.

I froze, my hand on the door. I could pretend I didn’t hear him. I could walk away like none of this mattered.

But I didn’t.

I turned around, crossing my arms over my chest. “What?”

He ran a hand through his hair, looking like he wasn’t sure what to say next. That was new. Lando Norris, at a loss for words.

“Can we talk?” he finally asked.

I stared at him for a long moment, heart pounding. I wanted to say no. I wanted to tell him to go back to his perfect little F1 world and leave me alone.

But instead, I nodded.

“Five minutes,” I said. “That’s all you get.”

And maybe, just maybe, that was a mistake.

comment if you’d like more like this!! 🧡

[patchs-curiosity-corner]

𝑳𝒆𝒕 𝑴𝒆 𝑯𝒆𝒍𝒑 𝒀𝒐𝒖 | 𝑺.𝑹. 

𝐀𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐥 𝟏𝟓𝐭𝐡 𝟐𝟎𝟎𝟕 - 𝑭𝒊𝒓𝒔𝒕 𝑩𝒍𝒖𝒔𝒉

𝒑𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈: Spencer Reid x fem!Reader

𝒔𝒖𝒎𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒚: A new member is added to the BAU soon after Reid’s kidnapping. She seems determined not to overlook him.

𝒄𝒐𝒏𝒕𝒆𝒏𝒕 𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔: angst, hurt/comfort, slight arguing, themes of drug addiction and self harm, referenced overdose, likely inaccurate depiction of drug addiction/withdrawal, Spencer and Reader being insecure.

𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕: 2.5k

𝒂𝒖𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒓’𝒔 𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒆: Fair warning this could be horrible. It’s part one of hopefully six total oneshots stemming from the concept of ‘5 times you help Spencer Reid heal, and one time he helps you.’ So, heart attack levels of cheese. Largely inspired by my righteous fury when no one helped Reid with his addiction. I will do a tag list for anyone interested in being alerted when part 2 comes out! Not proofread.

𝒔𝒆𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒔 𝒎𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕 𝒎𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕

You and Spencer Reid don’t get along.

Maybe that’s the wrong way to put it; it would be more accurate to say that he doesn’t get along with you. You were brought on a month ago, 36 days 4 hours and 27 minutes had passed since you had first walked into the bullpen and given him one more person to deal with. It didn’t help that you were sweet, gentle and understanding in a way seemed to grate on his already frayed nerves. You’re 22, but only recently, recently enough to have just barely squeaked out the title of “youngest member to join the BAU” that had previously belonged to him. It’s a childish record, he’s a 25 year old man, and it shouldn’t affect him much less upset him, but it does. 

Your presence feels like a personal insult. Your arrival so soon after his kidnapping churns his stomach, makes him wonder if the team is questioning his capabilities as a profiler. Why else would they need to suddenly hire an extra person? Not-so-deep down he knows that logically, it probably had to do with the recent increase in the units budget. Nothing to do with him, but rather Hotch taking advantage of the opportunity to have another pair of boots on the ground during cases. None of that matters though, because Spencer doesn’t feel very logical right now.

He’s found more little ways to justify his distaste for you in the weeks since your arrival. The way you always seem to smile and nod along with his ramblings, despite the fact they’re not directed at you. You must be mocking him, he concludes, secretly patronizing him for his inability to shut up. Or the way you look at him after learning about his recent… ordeal with Tobias Hankel, the gentle sympathy in your eyes he willingly misinterprets as pity. He hates being pitied. He hates being patronized. He hates the analytical way you always seem to look at him, and he almost immediately convinces himself that above all: he hates you.

———

Something’s up with Reid.

You’d noticed it from day one, but it had been easy to disregard as growing pains. After all, with Emily having only joined months before you, you were sure there was going to be a bit of an adjustment period, especially when the sting of losing one of their previous teammates was still so fresh. You’d heard so many good things about Elle from everyone, and you’d be lying if it didn’t make you feel even a little bit insecure as the greenest among them.

It takes about a week for you to realize there’s something more to his behavior than awkward aloofness. The way he wears long sleeves even as the cool air of spring grows warmer, the near-constant twitch in his brow, and especially the way he seems to constantly fidget with those aforementioned sleeves, scratching nervously at his inner elbow. Even just the way his wiry fingers tighten around the strap of his bag, you can’t shake it.

Something is terribly wrong.

You try to remain casual, asking after him when he disappears into the bathroom for a touch too long, or when he takes a sick day that even as the newbie you know is out of character. Innocuous little questions like: “Is Reid alright?” or “Does he seem paler lately?” that gleaned no real answer from any of their teammates. It made you furious. Spencer was a part of their team, part of their family, regardless of his icy attitude towards you. So why wouldn’t any of them help him?

You watch him deteriorate over time, in the 36 days you’d spent on the team you’d been silently festering, mentally begging someone to do something, anything for Reid. Help him! your eyes beg Morgan, Hotch, Gideon, JJ, anyone. He’s going to die like this…

…but no one does, and enough is enough.

———

Spencer can’t eat, he can’t sleep either. Whenever he tries to his mind is filled with the memory of the horrible night he spent with Hankel, his crystal clear eidetic memory forcing him to relive that torture again and again the moment he closes his eyes. He knows there must be dark circles under his eyes, that his cheeks are likely sunken and pale, eyes rimmed red from lack of sleep. He’s certain the others must have noticed, there’s no way they couldn’t. But he tries to convince himself they haven’t, because if they had and no one had checked on him? …He doesn’t want to consider that reality.

The soft rapping of knuckles against his door stirs him out of his sleepless daze. It’s late, late enough that no one in their right mind would be awake right now, much less knocking on his door. In his drained state he heaves himself off the couch, plodding with weighted feet over to the door of his apartment. He doesn’t bother to check the peephole, if he did maybe he wouldn’t have been so startled by who he sees upon pulling open the door.

You.

A travel bag slung over your shoulder and a determined look set on your features. You both just stand there for a moment, until your voice breaks the silence.

“Hi.” It’s just one word, but it tugs at something inside him he can’t quite name.

“Hey.” He croaks back apathetically, or at least he tries to. Before he can say anything else or even question what you’re doing you push past him into his apartment, tossing your bag onto his kitchen island. “What the hell-“ Is all he manages to get out, irritation swelling in his chest as he scowls at your form, looking at him with arms crossed, fingers picking at the frayed edges of your sweater.

And just like that it’s quiet again. It’s his voice that breaks the silence this time, quiet and tired: “What are you doing here?”

“Make sure you don’t die, hopefully.” you murmur, your own voice cracked by anxiety and a frail attempt at humor. “Where are they?” That makes his jaw tighten, you both know what you’re talking about, and it causes long-suppressed frustration to boil up in his chest.

“You have no right to be here. You- you have no right to look through my things.” The words are gritted out through teeth clenched so tight you worry they may crack. It’s painful, watching him fight so hard against the help you’re trying to offer.

“Look, Spencer” you sigh, unable to hide the pained expression of your own face, “Hotch knows. I talked to him about it.” You brace for something, anything. Maybe shouting, you seriously doubted Reid would ever consider laying a hand on you but… drugs did funny things to those you would have thought you knew. “S-so you either let me help you, or I’ll be forced to report your current addiction to Strauss.” Your voice had wavered at the beginning, but the more you spoke the more conviction bled into your voice. Soon all the pent up anxiety and worry for your brilliant coworker was pushing you forward, fueling your words. “I won’t stand by Spencer, because if you keep going like this it’s not a matter of if but when it kills you, and that is the last thing I would ever want because you are too damn good for that.”

Reid glares at you, every ounce of misplaced anger in his system directed at you alone in a gaze far more furious than you or anyone thought him capable of. Then his shoulders slump, and that tired, worn appearance returns. He could deny it, claim you had no proof, but with no energy left in his tired, broken body- He didn’t have it in him to lie. When Spencer finally speaks it’s quiet, and reluctant.

“In the bathroom,” his voice croaks, “Inside the medicine cabinet.”

He would have expected you to immediately go there, to play the role of drill sergeant for his sudden makeshift rehab, but you don’t. Instead your own shoulders sag, and in a number of slow steps you cross the room to where he stands, wrapping your arms tightly around his middle. Spencer goes stiff at first, unable to process the sudden display of affection, why this girl seems to care so much about him when he’d been nothing but distant to her at best. After everything he’s been through though -even with his germaphobia- it’s impossible not to relax into the embrace, his own slender arms wrapping around you in return. It’s nice to be held again, he thinks.

“This is going to be awful.” You mumble against his chest, “A week and a half, that’s all Hotch could give us. Far as anyone’s concerned I had a family emergency and you’re on a mandated sabbatical.” It takes him a minute or so to process her words, stuck in the haze of affection after going to long without.

“…what are you talking about?” Reid asks, his voice is quiet. He can’t understand why you care so much, he just needs you to go away now, before he gets addicted to your presence as well. Before something happened to you and you left; like his Mother, like Elle.

“Getting you clean.” You say hesitantly, finally pulling away from him after what felt like a peaceful eternity. “Under normal circumstances quitting outright is a terrible idea, but-“ you swallow thickly- “you’re a federal agent, so there’s a clock ticking.”

“And your plan is…?” Spencer sighs, running a heavy hand through his hair and down his face. He tries to ignore the feeling that lingers, the ghost of you in his arms.

“Stay with you through the inevitable withdrawals, I hope.” The words are tentative, not as confidant as before while you pick nervously at the sleeve of your sweater. “The first thing I have to do is get rid of all the Dilaudid in this apartment.”

His body goes rigid again, this time with the flash of panic that goes through him at your words. Hands clenching and jaw tightening, the thought of losing the thing he’d come to rely on so desperately makes him terrified. Part of Spencer wants to say ‘no,’ to stop you- beg you not to let what gave him peace drain away… But he just can’t muster the energy, forced to watch in dejected silence as you conduct a thorough search of his apartment for the offending drug -his only comfort and companion in these past two months- and dispose of it, all in a few moments. Gone.

Once you’re finished, you settle yourself on his warm, comfortable couch, letting out a quiet sigh as you wave him closer. “C’mere.”

Reid lets himself be touched for the second time that night, accepting your offer and laying his head on your lap. He’s quickly hit with a hazy feeling as your fingers slide into his hair, playing gently with the chocolate strands and scratching lightly at his scalp.

“Are you angry with me?” You ask softly after a moment, concerned by the silent treatment he was currently giving you. Again he can’t lie to you, even compared to the unwillingness to admit his fear and anger. In an act of petty rebellion he refuses to look at you when he answers.

“…yes.”

“That’s alright.” He hears you reply, as soft and gentle as everything else you had been so far. “You can be angry, Spence.”

“Why are you even here?” He bites back, a storm of emotions behind his eyes as he finally looks up at your face: anger, sadness, confusion, fear. The brilliant ‘boy-genius’ reduced to an absolute mess.Your answer is just as easily spoken and simple as before: 

“Because I care about you.” Those five words ring in his head even as you continue. “Because despite how we started out you are an incredibly genuine person, Spencer, and probably one of the most brilliant minds I’ve ever had the pleasure of knowing.” Spencer shakes his head, for once lost for words. Why were you here, being so nice to him? Why did you even care in the first place when he had been so cold and hostile to you over the past month. 

“I don’t- you shouldn’t care.” He spits out, turning away from her. The action feels petulant.

“But I do.” You say a hint of amusement in your voice despite the circumstances. “And you can’t stop me from caring.”His face feels hot, and his jaw clenches again as he rolls back over to hide his face in your stomach. Reid mumbles in a voice almost too low to hear: 

“You’re frustrating.” It makes you laugh.

“Don’t worry Reid,” you say through your laughter, “the feeling is definitely mutual.”

———

The next week is just as brutal as you had both been expecting.

Spencer didn’t know what he expected drug withdrawal to be like. He’d read plenty of textbooks sure but they did nothing to prepare him for a firsthand experience. The only way he can think of to describe it is pure, unadulterated misery. His body struggles without consistent doses of Dilaudid to keep him going, it’s evident he had become much more dependent than he realized in a short amount of time. He can’t eat, he feels violently sick. Too hot one moment and freezing the next with his emotions following much the same kind of roller coaster.

You stay through all of it, keeping him comforted during panic attacks and soothing his fevers with a cool washcloth as you try to get him to drink just a little more water, even if it may come back up minutes later. You’re tired, exhausted even, and yet you won’t leave Spencer’s side for more than a second. It’s easy to endure the moments of anger he has, shouting and cruel words flung in your direction are hardly any price at all if it means he might recover faster. He doesn’t understand how you take it, all the snapping, screaming and crying. Reid takes out every anxiety and fear he has on you, and still you remain in the end, ready to let him fall into your arms again and cry like a child.

He feels guilty, ashamed even in this state. An overwhelming feeling of helplessness weighs heavy on his heart, but little by little, things do get better, even if he doesn’t notice at first.

It must be the 8th day of this hell when he realizes that slowly, far too gradually for him to notice: things have returned to something oddly adjacent to normal. Sitting at his kitchen table with a cup of warm honey tea in his hands, watching you hum along to the radio while you prepare breakfast… Spencer almost feels human again. Things weren’t perfect by any means, his hands still trembled, the ghosts left behind by the worst of it all still tugged at his mind, a familiar voice begging him for just one more hit. But the voice is tiny now, easier to ignore. It was strangely peaceful, in fact, the way he could sit at this table and observe the domestic scene of you cooking breakfast in his kitchen. His chest warms pleasantly, and for what feels like the first time in years:

Spencer can finally breathe.

[thatsmzbitchtoyou]

Marriage Problems Chapter 3

Summary: They’ve been married for 19 years, their 20th anniversary coming up soon.  Older, busier, and stuck on the repeat of their daily lives, Y/N and Bucky are struggling.  Their marriage is good, but feeling rocky the last few years as they’ve settled into this stage of their lives.  Can they get their spark back?  Or is it better to do the unthinkable, and move on without each other?

Warnings:  language, forced kiss, eventual smut

Previous chapter Next chapter

Bucky was putting his lunch in his lunch box when a rumble of footsteps came thundering down the stairs and he looked up as Y/N burst into the kitchen looking frazzled.  “Why didn’t you wake me up?” She asked him incredulously.  “Where are the kids?”

“On the bus,” he answered nonchalantly.

“What?” she sputtered.  “H-how…what do you–”

“They got themselves ready, lunches packed, homework done, and I made sure they were out of the house on time,” he said, smirking at her.  He grabbed a plate of food next to him and slid it toward her on the island, accompanying it with a mug of her favorite drink.  “I wanted to let you sleep.  Now sit down and relax.”

Y/N stared at him, the surprise evident in her expression.  She glanced at the plate of food then slowly walked over to the island, pulling out the stool chair and sitting down.  She grabbed the toast and took a bite.  “Thank you,” she said.

“You’re welcome,” Bucky smiled.  He rounded the island and stood next to her, his fingers pulling her chin to make her look up at him.  “We need to talk about what happened last night,” he said, and her eyes fluttered in sadness.  “But, not right now.  I’m about to leave for work, but I want you to take today to do nothing.”

“Nothing?” Y/N frowned.

“Absolutely nothing,” Bucky nodded.  “Don’t you dare cook or clean, just rot on the couch and get caught up on your shows.  I’ve already got dinner set up for delivery later.  And we’ll have a good, long conversation about everything over ice cream.”

Y/N still looked surprised, but a small, happy smile crept up on her lips.  “Sherbet ice cream?”

Bucky huffed a laugh.  “Whatever my pretty mama wants,” he said.  

***

That night after the kids went to bed they sat on the couch downstairs, a gallon of rainbow sherbet ice cream between them that they took bites from as they talked about everything.  Bucky felt like they had come to a good understanding with each other, and they agreed to actively work towards reigniting their marriage.  

“Well, I have a work party next weekend that you can come to,” Bucky said.  “We’re celebrating that presentation going well and getting that client.”  He hadn’t told her about the bonus yet, wanting to keep it a surprise.  

“Oh you know I’m not a huge fan of work hangouts,” Y/N waved him away.  “As much as I love Steve, it’s just a lot of awkward moments for me being the odd one out on everyone’s work inside jokes and what not.”

“Okay, okay,” Bucky smiled and nodded.  “Then how about the next day?  We’ll go out together, just the two of us.”

Y/N smiled.  “That would be nice.”

“It’s a date,” Bucky smiled back.  

***

That next Friday he found himself in a bar downtown.  He felt too old to be there, just keeping a watchful eye on the younger employees as he nursed his one and only beer for the night.  He and Steve took the time to catch up with each other, since they were both married, family men who didn’t get to hang out as often as they used to or would have liked.  Steve stood from the small table they were at to get himself another drink.  Bucky finished his beer, setting the bottle aside when someone else sat in front of him.

“Hey boss,” Natasha greeted him with a flirtatious smile.

Bucky inwardly groaned, but politely smiled.  “Nat,” he greeted her.  “Hope you’re having fun with the rest of the team.”  He had to tread carefully with her.  Natasha was young, beautiful, and had made it clear a while ago that her conversations with him were her attempt at flirty banter, sliding in sexual innuendos and compliments towards him.  He’d tried ignoring it, not playing into it with her at all, but she was nothing if not persistent and ambitious.  That was what made her a great part of the team.  He just wished she would take the hint.

“You look ridiculously hot, as usual,” Natasha said, maneuvering herself to sit closer to him, leaning forward on the table to show off her cleavage.

“Oh, um, thank you,” Bucky said, trying to lean away from her.  “You look nice.”

“Just nice?” Natasha laughed teasingly.  “Looks like I’ll need to up my game next time.”

Bucky’s lips tightened as he tried to subtly look for Steve to save him.  “Well, I don’t want you to waste your time with me—”

She reached a hand out and slid her fingers across the back of his hand.  “Oh there’s nowhere else I’d rather be than right here, sir,” she purred.  

Bucky pulled his hand away and frowned.  “Nat, I’m not sure how else to say this without it sounding mean, so I’m just going to say it.  I’m married.  Happily married–”

“No you’re not,” Natasha smirked.  “You’re having marriage problems.”  She leaned forward again so she was close to his ear, the alcohol on her breath making him scowl.  “I can help you feel better.”

Bucky pushed away from her.  “Where did you hear I was having marriage problems?” he asked angrily.

“I could just tell,” Natasha shrugged.  “And Peter likes to gossip.”

Bucky rolled his eyes then closed them as he rubbed his face, and she took the opportunity to corner him against the wall, her hand holding the back of his neck and pulling him forward, kissing him right on the mouth.  Bucky froze in shock for just a moment before he pushed her away and stood.  “What the fuck was that?” he yelled.

“Hey, woah, what’s going on?” Steve asked, finally coming back over to the table with a new beer in his hand.

“She just fucking kissed me!” Bucky replied, wiping his mouth.

“Natasha,” Steve groaned, looking at her with deep disappointment.

“What?” she pouted.  “I’m drunk.”

Bucky shook his head incredulously as Steve sighed.  “Okay, it’s time for you to go home,” he said, pulling her up by the arm.  “I’m calling you an Uber.  And we’ll be having a discussion with HR on Monday.”

“What?  No!  I’m not ready to leave!” Natasha whined, pulling against his hold as he directed her toward the front door.  Bucky stood there in shock until Steve came back a few minutes later.  

“She’s gone,” Steve said.  “I’m sorry, Buck.  I knew she was flirtatious with you, I just didn’t think she’d do something like that, even while drunk.”

“Y/N,” Bucky whispered, his eyes wide as he looked at Steve.  “I have to tell her, Steve.”  Steve’s eyes widened with him.  

@cjand10 @sebastians-love @sherwoodforesttales @shanksstrawhat @sagexsenorita @abaker74

[moody-alcoholic]

Cross My Heart

Part 13 - Meet Me In Volgograd

Summary: eventual poly141 x reader. Enemies to lovers, mini fic. CW: +18 content MDNI, Sex, PiV sex, threesome (MMF, voyeurism, fingering, oral (M receiving), mastabation. AN: OMG IT’S HAPPENING. I was going to post this tomorrow. I just got too excited

Previous parts - masterlist - next AO3

Enjoy <3

Johnny wakes you after what feels like only a few minutes of sleep. When he’s shaking you awake in the uncomfortable bed it finally hits you how tired you are. You haven’t had a proper sleep since leaving the safehouse the second time. 

“So who’s Nikoli?” You ask as you drag yourself out the bed. You don’t really care but you’ll do anything to keep yourself awake, even asking dumb questions. 

“Old friend of John’s.” 

“John?” You ask pulling your clothes on.

“Price.” You frown at him. 

“You’re both called John? Doesn’t that get confusing?” You ask pulling your boots on. 

“Na, not really. Most of the time people call John; Price, Cap or dickhead.” 

“Really?” You say raising an eyebrow. He shakes his head chuckling.

“C’mon wanna get some breakfast?” You shake your head sighing. 

“I want to get a few hours rest on the plane, it feels like I haven’t slept in days.” You say pulling your jacket on. He nods throwing a bag over his shoulder and picking up the AR standing in the corner of the room. 

“Alright, let's go then.” He stops at the door without opening it. He turns to you, you can see colour rushing to his cheeks.

“Are you- I mean last night.” He grips the barrel of his weapon tighter. “Are you, you know… safe?” 

“Christ. Are you this awkward with every girl you sleep with?” You ask, raising an eyebrow. 

“I have the injection thing.” You say pointing at your arm. Now he frowns.

“Do you have a boyfriend or something?” You shake your head. 

“Me and Ivan, we had a business arrangement. It wouldn’t exactly be good for anyone if the smuggler got pregnant with the handler. He made sure it wouldn’t happen.” Johnny looks a little taken aback by the admission. He nods and turns back to the door opening it.

…

You sleep almost the whole journey to Russia. Nikoli seems nice, you just didn’t have the energy to be friendly with him. Russian, that you expected, you’re surprised Price had allies in Russia, maybe he’s the type of person who has allies everywhere. Johnny shakes you awake again handing you a headset.

“We’re touching down a few kilometres outside of Volgograd. They’ve sent us coordinates of the place they’re hiding out in.” Johnny shouts over the sound of the tiny plane's engine. 

“Are they in the town?” You shout back. 

“Yeah, it should take us a few hours to reach them. They’re keeping tabs on Makarov.” 

“Do they know where he is?” You ask back. 

“Maybe, there’s a Konni stronghold just outside the city. Price thinks that’s where we can get some answers.” Johnny says. You nod looking out the window at the ground below, fields upon fields of Russian countryside.

“Volgograd is pretty, and close to the border. Good Place for Konni to set up shop.” Nikoli says. You can't see him from the chair you picked and Johnny is blocking the door to the cockpit.

“Ever been?” Johnny asks, turning back to look at him. 

“No, it’s a big place, you should try their local cheese.” Nikolai says. Johnny smiles, you yawn and turn to look back out the window. You can see a massive lake come into view. 

…

You landed in a field. Nikoli handed you a massive duffle bag of supplies Price had requested then said his goodbyes. You ran across to a crooked fence surrounding the field as Nikoli took off again. The sun was high in the sky but it’s still cold.

“What are we going to do? Steal a car again?” You ask as you watch Nikoli fly off.

“Na, let’s just walk. We could use the exercise.” He says winking at you.

“What didn't you get enough last night?” You tease him. The thought of a 5 kilometer walk was not exactly on your list of things you wanted to do today. Johnny seems enthusiastic about it even with his wounded arm. 

It looks better, it’s wrapped in compression bandages but with the cream and anti-inflammatory medication the doctors had him taking he doesn’t complain. Your stomach wound on the other hand has been giving you nothing but trouble and last night’s antics just meant you’d pulled on the stitches and now it’s irritated. Nothing a good fistful of painkillers can’t keep on top of. 

The walk turned out to be not as bad as you thought. Johnny talked the whole way, talking about missions they’ve done in Russia, more about why they’re after Makarov. You’re glad he’s talking again, yesterday he was too quiet, it was weird. When you make it to the town it already feels like it’s getting dark, clouds have moved in making the whole place feel moody. 

The town is busy even as you make your way into the outskirts. You’re both dressed in civilian clothes but with the massive duffle bags you have thrown over your shoulders people's eyes still follow you. They know you’re outsiders here, at least you can speak Russian. 

It doesn’t take you long to find the place based on the info Price sent to Johnny. When you make it to the townhouse you feel even more out of place than ever, down the street there is an old woman with no teeth drilling her eyes into you. The quicker you can get inside the better, you already feel like you’ve drawn enough attention to yourself. 

It’s Ghost who opens the door, dressed all in black with that skull mask he wears all the time. It makes goosebumps rise on your body. 

“Privet.” Johnny says with a little salute before Ghost moves to the side letting you both come in. The building is worn out, it looks abandoned. The stairs up to the second floor are bowing in and the windows are boarded up, although from the outside it just looked like the curtains were drawn.

You follow Ghost into what would have been a dining room although now the place is just a table with some chairs, the kitchen is in a similar state of disrepair. You dump the bag down at the foot of the table. 

“Survived the flight with Nikoli then?” Gaz asks, coming over. He places his hand on your back smiling before reaching down and unzipping it. You see it crammed full of gear, weapons and some electronics. 

“I slept the whole way.” You say. You move over to the table sitting down on one of the chairs looking at the papers on the table. Some are maps, with markers.

“Joh- Soap said you think there's a place nearby where Makarov is hiding?” You say swallowing hard, you’ll have to get used to calling him Soap again. At least while you’re around the others.

“Konni compound, we don’t know if Makarov will be there but we will be able to find answers.” Price says. 

“We’ve seen Al Qatala and Konni moving in and out the building.” Gaz says putting the laptop on the table. Price pulls it over to him and sits down. 

“No Makarov?” Soap asks as he comes over with a bottle of water in his hand. 

“Not yet.” Ghost says coming over to the table and crossing his arms.

“But we know he’s here, Laswell has been keeping track of him.” Gaz says.

“Sorry to be the sceptic here but are you sure you haven’t missed him?” You say raising an eyebrow. 

“There’s a chance, that's why if he's gone we know we will find intel in the building as to where he is.” Price says.

“Okay, when do we get moving?” Soap asks. 

“Few hours, as soon as it’s dark and the day shift has left. It’ll leave us with only Al Qatala in the building.” Price says. You nod, getting up out of the chair. 

“I’m going to take a nap then.” You say stretching and looking over at Soap. He smiles at you. “Bedrooms are upstairs I assume?” 

“Yeah, help yourself.” Gaz says and you walk out the dining room and up the creaking steps. As soon as you see a bed you make a b-line for it, closing the door behind you, kicking your boots off and flopping down. You don’t get a chance to close your eyes before there’s a knock at the door. You look over huffing and sitting up in bed.

“Yeah?” You call, a few seconds later Soap opens the door. He steps in closing the door behind him. 

“You okay?” He asks coming over to the bed. You move your legs so he can sit down. He hums his hand coming up to your face. You’re already leaning in to kiss him, it’s automatic at this point. His kiss is nice, familiar. So deep it leaves you breathless. 

“I wanna try something.” He says breaking from the kiss. “Do you trust me?”

You nod not sure what to say or what he’s planning. You suddenly don’t want to sleep, your heart hammering in your chest. He gets up heading back to the door.

“I’ll be right back.” He says smiling. You do trust him, you remember last night how different it felt, how good it feels. You want to believe it's more than just a fling, more than just a transaction. Sex has always felt like that to you, something you have to give to get something in return. It didn’t feel like that with Johnny. 

At least not yet. You pull your shirt off over your head flinging it to the side, the thought of having sex again makes the exhaustion fall away. You shuffle your pants off too, kicking them out of the end of the bed. 

There’s another knock at the door, you frown not expecting it but call Johnny in anyway. Only it’s not Johnny who enters the room, it's Ghost. You immediately reach down pulling the blanket over your exposed top. 

“Ghost!” You shout, turning away feeling heat rush to your cheeks. You feel embarrassed, stupid. You should never have trusted Johnny. You threw your shirt in the middle of the room. 

“Is this what you’ve been up to Johnny?” Ghost asks, you hear the door close. Johnny comes back over to the bed, his hand lands on your back.

“Sorry, I didn’t think you would be, you know. So eager.” You turn to look at him. 

“Could have fucking warned me.” You spit at him. He smiles, leaning forward and kissing you. It relaxes you, you forget Ghost is in the room. When he’s finished his hand comes up to cup your chin. “You look cute when you get flustered.”  

Him saying that just makes you blush more. You look over at Ghost stood by the door, Johnny’s hand lands on yours gripping the blanket. It’s reassuring, it’s what you need. 

“I can ask him to leave.” Johnny says. You sigh looking back at him, you do trust him. 

“I guess you really weren't joking when you said you were close.” You sigh. He smiles getting up off the bed and going over to Ghost. He wraps his arm around his waist, his other hand pushing up under his shirt. 

“I know you’ve been looking, you all have.” Johnny says. Ghost’s eyes look dark, the mask makes him look like such an intimidating person too. He’s big, broad shoulders, definitely the tallest out of all of them. It doesn’t help making him feel any less intimidating. You watch as Johnny presses up against him, his face just reaches his neck, he presses his face into it.

Suddenly the embarrassment fades and you swing your legs out the side of the bed. You flick your eyes between Ghost and Johnny. 

“Let me tell you, she’s as good as you think she is.” Johnny is whispering, or at least trying to. You feel yourself blushing again as Johnny turns his body, his hand slips out from Ghost’s shirt to the front of his pants. Ghost turns to look at Johnny and you let the blanket drop from your chest. 

“You’re playing a dangerous game, MacTavish.” Ghost says, his voice low, rumbling in the room. 

“Maybe, but I know you want to play it too.” Johnny says reaching up to grip the bottom of Ghost’s mask pulling it up to reveal his lips. He steps up on his toes to kiss him. It does something to you, the sight of them both attacking each other's lips. Johnny slips his hand down into Ghost’s pants, you watch as he turns to face Johnny better, his hands running up to grip his arms.

You wet your lips, you press your thighs together feeling a throb travel through you. Your mouth fills with saliva as you watch Johnny fiddle with the front of Ghost's pants, unclipping his belt and reaching in to pull out his cock. He's bigger than Johnny, you can tell that already. You watch as Ghost breaks from the kiss pulling his gloves off and flinging them to the side before gripping Johnny’s face pulling him back into a kiss. 

Your hand wanders down your body, finding your already soaked pussy and coating your fingers in slick. You hear Johnny moan his hand pumping Ghost’s cock in his fist. You bite the inside of your cheek as you move your hand to rub your clit. 

You watch as Ghost breaks from the kiss, his hands dropping down Johnny’s arms. He turns to look at you, you freeze. Johnny pulls his hand away walking over to you pulling his shirt over his head. When he reaches you he hums, smiling before pulling the blanket off you to reveal your hand rubbing yourself. 

He reaches down, picking up your hand bringing it to his mouth. He presses his lips to your soaked fingers, taking them in his mouth and licking them clean. 

“Johnny.” You breathe, he chuckles, pulling your hand out and turning to Ghost. 

“C’mon Simon, let's show her how great you are.” You look past Johnny to hear Ghost coming towards you. Simon, that's his name, he comes over to you, his mask resting on his nose. He leans down and kisses you. 

His kiss is rougher than Johnny, his lips not as soft, he presses his tongue into your mouth and you crane your neck up so he doesn’t have to lean down as much. Johnny’s hands have made their way over to your breasts. His fingers brush over your nipples, cupping them as his face presses into your neck. 

“Christ, didn’t tell me she had pretty lips.” Simon says his thumb coming up to brush your cheek. 

“Didn’t tell you a lot of things.” Johnny says smiling. 

“Simon.” You say looking up at him. He has brown eyes, dark eyes, but they don’t look as scary now. You’re seeing them in a different light, it’s like he’s a different person. 

“I had my fun last night, it’s your turn now LT.” Johnny reaches over, pulling your chin to look at him. “Isn’t that right love, you're going to show Simon how good you are.” You nod looking up at him, he leans over and kisses you. 

You let them move you, their hands running over the different parts of your body. You end up laid flat on your back with a naked Johnny kneeling down by your head. You look up to the end of the bed seeing Simon getting into position between your legs. He kicked his boots off to take his trousers off but left the shirt and mask. 

Maybe he’s not ready for you to see his face, maybe he doesn’t trust you yet. He’s about to fuck you though, his thick cock laid on your stomach while he hooks his arms under your knees. You look over at Johnny stroking himself right by your face. Before he even needs to ask you, you open your mouth. 

He winks at you before pressing the tip of his cock to your lips. You let him press into your mouth, you smile as you watch his head tip back. You can’t move your head to look at Simon but you can feel him, using one of his hands pushing fingers in before replacing them with his cock. 

He’s thicker than Johnny too causing you to moan round Johnny, it just makes him push into you harder hitting the back of your throat and making your eyes water. 

“Holy shit, perfect sweetheart.” Johnny says his hand, coming to brush through your hair. 

“You’re making her look so pretty over there Johnny.” You hear Simon say as he thrusts into you. 

“Yeah, you should hear her when she moans. Got a pretty little mouth on her too.” Johnny says as he pulls his cock out your mouth. “Go on love, show him how pretty you sound.” 

You can’t help it moaning as Simon drives into you harder, pinning your legs out the way with his massive hands. 

“Simon.” You call looking over at him, his mouth is tipped open, his eyes almost glowing in the dim light of the room. You turn your head to look back over at Johnny who smiles down at you and winks. You turn your head opening your mouth again. 

“Christ love, I can’t tell what's better, your mouth or that pretty pussy of yours.” Johnny says as his hand reaches down to play with one of your breasts. 

“You don’t have to pick Johnny.” You hear Simon pant. You smile up at Johnny, your eyes being blurred by the tears streaming down your face. One of Simon’s hands drops your leg so his thumb can rub your clit. You end up moaning around Johnny again which makes him twitch in your mouth. 

Johnny brushes your tears away with his free hand. You close your eyes letting yourself get lost in the pleasure of Simon pumping into you like it’s the first cunt he’s had in years and Johnny hitting the back of your throat with each thrust. 

You moan again, you’re getting close, the stretch of Simon’s cock feels too good, he’s moaning now too, his moans are just as pretty as Johnny’s. You open your eyes again, Johnny’s fingers pinch your nipple playing with your breast making vibrations pulse down to your pussy. 

“Don’t stop Johnny. She’s clenching around me so tight.” Simon says as his thumb pressing down on your clit causing you to squirm under him. You close your eyes again, your body tensing as you cum. Johnny cums too, you barely react trying not to bite down on his cock. All you feel is his hot seed hitting the back of your throat. 

“Fuck love, fuck me.” Johnny pants pulling out of your mouth letting you breathe. Simon pulls out of you when he cums thick ropes squirting over your chest. You look over at him, his eyes closed, hand wrapped round his cock. 

“Look at you.” Johnny coos, his fingers brushing over your chest scooping up some of the cum leaking down to your stomach. He presses the fingers into his mouth, Simon hums and you feel him step off the bed. 

He walks over to your head and Johnny steps back. Simon looks down at you as you prop yourself up on your elbows. He bends down to kiss you. A second later he breaks away pressing his nose against yours. 

“Riley.” He whispers. You open your eyes as he stands back up pulling his mask down. You watch him reach down to pick his clothes up and Johnny bends down by your head. 

Simon Riley. You smile at Johnny. 

“Not as scary as he seems right?” Johnny says stroking your face. 

“I was never scared of him.” You smile. 

“Good.” Johnny says. 

Banners by plum98

[nameless-jamie]

MY OUR HOUSE

Glimpse Into the Future - Jamie Tartt x fem!PA reader

Masterlist

A/N: AHHHH! First one of this series! Let's gooo. Please read the PA x Jamie Tartt series first, so you'll get it! I hope you love it, hardcore fluff!

TW: cursing, suggestive scenes

Yup, they finally did it. Jamie Tartt and Y/N, his trusty assistant have been together for over a year now. They’ve been through the awkward stages—the miscommunications, the unresolved tension, the late-night talks about feelings they hadn’t yet fully admitted. But they were solid now. The days of pretending they were just an assistant and her prickish football player boss are over. As a couple, they’d found their rhythm and pulse together. How, you ask? Well, that happened a year ago and it's a totally different story. Now they are the happy couple, that everyone predicted they would be. And though they didn’t have it all figured out all the time—Who did?—there was a certainty now. A warmth in knowing that they were on this wild ride together. No matter what.

Currently, they have one problem, though. Jamie and Y/N were tired. Tired of commuting between Jamie's huge bachelor mansion and Y/N's small flat. So, today, they were taking a massive step. After weeks of debating where to live, they were finally choosing a place to call their own.

And it all started like this: Y/N stood in the middle of Jamie’s house, looking around with a mixture of disbelief and a lack of affection. She could see the effort Jamie had put into this space, making it the perfect bachelor pad—though she wouldn’t call his million-dollar mansion "homey," it was very much his—but there was something about it that felt cold, empty even. A place that might look good in a magazine but never felt lived in.

"Honey, I love you, but your place is a fucking nightmare," she said, her voice a little softer than usual. It wasn’t criticism—just an honest statement. She loved him more than anything, but the house… not so much.

Jamie, dramatically clutching his chest like she’d just insulted the very foundation of his existence, gasped. “Babe, you take that back. My place is well nice!” His grin was infectious, but it didn’t quite convince her.

Y/N raised an eyebrow, an exhale slipping from her lips as she glanced around. "Jamie, it looks like a footballer’s bachelor pad exploded and no one cleaned it up."

Jamie scoffed. "It’s modern. S’called style."

Y/N crossed her arms, her lips forming a playful but pointed frown. “It’s sterile, and way too big for one person. How do you even live here?” She gave the room another glance. “It’s like a showroom for nothing.”

“Modern,” Jamie repeated, more to himself than to her, before shrugging with a little smile. “And, it’s... practical.”

Y/N chuckled, her shoulders softening. “Yeah, for someone who’s single and ready to mingle.”

That made Jamie smirk...the perverted kind. "Nah, I'm taken...still ready to mingle, though...If you're up for it." He said with wiggling brows.

"Nope, not until we fix this commuting situation or this Playboy mansion..."

Jamie grinned. "S’pose I should get someone to move in, then."

Her lips curled into a knowing smirk. “Well yes maybe. D'you have someone in mind, yet?”

They both paused the air between them thick with the unspoken. Moving in or not? She knew he wasn’t wrong; they’d spent months now navigating their relationship—learning each other’s quirks, arguing and laughing, and eventually learning how to move forward from it all. They've known each other long before that, even lived together for like a week (scratch that, that was a nightmare). But this? This was a bigger step.

Y/N sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. "Jamie, we’ve been dating for a year," she continued, her voice a little quieter now, but firm. “We spend almost every night together, but neither of us wants to live in the other’s place. What does that tell you?”

Jamie blinked. "That you should stop bein’ stubborn and move in with me?"

Y/N groaned. "Jamie!"

"What?!"

Y/N chuckled, rolling her eyes. "It means we should get a place together. Something that actually feels like ours. Not just a place that’s convenient. Not just your empty bachelor pad."

Jamie’s grin faltered slightly, just for a second, as if he was still trying to figure out how to reconcile her vision with his own. And then, slowly, a warmth spread across his face. She wants to go all in, he thought. It wasn’t just the cheeky grin she knew so well of him; it was something more vulnerable, something real.

“Yeah,” he murmured softly, his voice taking on a quieter, more sincere tone, his heart full. “Yeah, we should. I would love that, baby.”

Y/N’s heart fluttered, surprised at how deeply those words resonated. This wasn’t about the perfect space, the perfect decor, or the perfect house—it was about the two of them finally deciding to make a space for themselves. Something that belonged to both of them, something that could hold their life and their future together.

The house-hunting process was… a disaster at first.

Jamie hated anything that didn’t have state-of-the-art amenities.

“Babe, the shower pressure is shite,” Jamie had groaned when they toured a particularly swanky house, clearly unimpressed with the plumbing.

Y/N wanted a place that felt warm, lived in, and a home that would make them feel grounded. Jamie? He had other priorities.

Y/N hadn’t even blinked while looking through another very steril, very fancy home. “Jamie, this house has zero personality.”

Jamie had flashed her a sheepish grin, clearly not understanding what she meant. “It’s got everything, baby.”

She shook her head, exasperated. “It’s a showroom, not a home. Where’s the character?”

They had almost given up.

And then, as if by fate, they stumbled across a house just outside the city. A little larger than what Y/N had imagined, but perfect in every other way. The second they walked in, there was an overwhelming feeling of comfort. The high ceilings, the natural light that poured in through every window, the spacious kitchen that was begging to be used—it felt like the kind of place where their lives could unfold, messy but beautiful.

They stood in the living room, not speaking for a few seconds, just taking in the space.

It was perfect.

Big, but not ridiculous. Warm, and welcoming. It even has a freakin' garden.

“Sooo,” Y/N finally said, voice soft and a little teary-eyed. “This one, yeah?”

Jamie wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her closer as he looked around, letting out a long breath. Finally, their home. “Yeah. I think so. That's the one.”

And for the first time, Y/N realized they weren't just talking about the house. They were talking about the future they were building together.

Jamie’s voice broke the silence, low and teasing as his fingers traced patterns over her waist. “Loads of space,” he murmured, looking around at the open floor plan. “For all your books. For all our shoes. For me trophies.”

Y/N laughed, but it wasn’t just the usual teasing. There was something more in her heart, something deeper. She was happy. She shot him a knowing glance. “You mean your one trophy?”

Jamie gasped in mock disbelief, hand dramatically placed over his chest. “Babe. Unbelievable.”

Y/N grinned. "Anything else?"

Jamie grinned devilishly, eyes glinting. “Loads of space for babies.”

Y/N paused. Her heart skipped, but she kept her voice steady, not letting her emotions fully spill out just yet. “Jamie…”

“Oi, I’m just sayin’,” he teased, stepping closer, his hand brushing her side. “Reckon we could have a whole little team, yeah? Tartt FC.”

Y/N smiled softly, the weight of his words settling over her like a promise. "Let’s move in first before you start planning a whole squad, alright?"

Jamie smiled back, but there was something so warm in his eyes that Y/N couldn’t help but feel everything fall into place.

“Deal.”

The first night in their new house was chaos.

Jamie had insisted on carrying Y/N over the threshold in some grand romantic gesture, but it was more of a comedy show than a scene from a fairytale. He’d almost dropped her because he misjudged the step, and they both ended up laughing, tangled up in each other in the doorway.

“Babe, you’re movin’ too much!” Jamie said, panicked, as they teetered dangerously on the edge of disaster.

“Jamie, put me down before we both die!” Y/N gasped, laughing through the ridiculousness of it all.

But eventually, they made it inside, safe and sound, only to find that the unpacking wasn’t much less chaotic. Jamie was distracted by his attempt to get the TV working, while Y/N took on the bulk of the unpacking.

“Jamie, love of my life, what are you doing there?” Y/N called over to him, already knowing the answer, but indulging him anyway.

“Setting up Sky Sports,” Jamie muttered, eyes glued to the TV. “Priorities, babe.”

Y/N couldn’t help herself. “Your priorities should be helping me unpack so we can actually sleep in a bed tonight.”

Jamie shrugged, looking at her from over his shoulder. “We could just sleep on the couch. Wouldn’t be the first time we did it on a couch.”

Y/N arched a brow. “Jamie Tartt, if you think we’re spending our first night in our new house on the couch, you’ve lost your mind.”

Jamie grinned mischievously. “Wouldn’t be the worst idea. S’not like we’d be sleeping much anyway.”

Y/N rolled her eyes, but there was affection behind the sarcasm. “You’re insufferable.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Jamie teased, stepping toward her and wrapping his arms around her waist, pulling her close. “You love it. Babe, we gotta break in the new bed, yeah?”

Y/N sighed dramatically, but her voice was laced with nothing but affection. “Unbelievable.”

Jamie laughed softly, leaning in to kiss the top of her head, a gentle smile resting on his lips.

By the time they finally got everything done, bed built, things unpacked, it was late as hell.

They collapsed into bed—their bed, in their house—and just lay there, soaking it all in.

Jamie turned his head, watching Y/N’s beautiful face in the dim light.

"We did it, baby," he murmured.

Y/N smiled, reaching over to lace her fingers with his. "Yeah. We did."

Jamie squeezed her hand. "We’re gonna have a good life here, I promise. I love you so much."

"I love you more, honey." Y/N hummed, then turned her head. "You still thinking about your very own Tartt FC, huh?"

Jamie smirked. "'Course I am."

Y/N rolled onto her side, propping herself up on her elbow. "You really want a bunch of little Baby Tartts running around?"

Jamie smirked. "Babe, who wouldn’t want that?"

Y/N snorted. "The world isn’t ready."

Jamie laughed, tugging her down so she was flush against his chest. "Reckon we should start practicin’ then, yeah?"

Y/N laughed, swatting his arm. "Go to sleep, Jamie."

Jamie kissed the top of her head, grinning against her hair.

"Yeah, alright. But tomorrow," he murmured, "we’ll start scouting for the team."

Yes, Y/N knew exactly what he meant by that...

[wolfsclothing6]

I would love to buy a skinsuit. I am a total geek and scrawny in college. I would love a skinsuit that can wear to show off my strength. One with big muscles. Any way you can help me out. Only problem is I have to work outside mowing and other yard work to pay it off. Hope the heat stays low so I don't get stuck. It is supposed to be really hot in a few days.

"Big Man on Campus"

Day 1 – Order Confirmed!

I finally did it. I ordered my first MorphoSkin Deluxe Muscle Form! No more scrawny arms, no more awkward frame—I’m going to be huge. I’ve always been the geeky guy, the one who barely fills out a hoodie, the one people overlook. But with this? I’ll be massive. Broad shoulders, thick chest, arms that stretch out my sleeves—just imagining it makes my heart race.

There’s only one little problem: money.

These things aren’t cheap, and I had to take on extra work mowing lawns and doing yard work to afford it. It’s been hot as hell lately, but I should be okay as long as I don’t overheat. I read somewhere that too much heat can make the suit… stick. Probably just a scare tactic, right?

Day 4 – Delivery Arrived!

It’s here. I opened the package like a kid on Christmas, and there it was: my new body.

The suit is everything I imagined—thick, veiny arms, a massive chest, and abs that look like they were carved out of stone. The inside of the suit feels weirdly cool and smooth, almost alive. I barely skimmed the instructions (who reads those?), then stripped down and stepped in.

The change was instant.

My legs stretched taller, my thighs grew thick and powerful, my stomach hardened into a tight six-pack. Pulling my arms into place, I flexed—veins popped under the surface, biceps bulged, and my hands were huge, rough, strong.

Then came the final piece—the face. I pulled it over, felt a sharp tingle down my spine, and then…

My voice rumbled deep from my chest. My reflection was perfect. I clenched my fists, feeling the sheer power in my arms. My t-shirt stretched tight over my massive shoulders, and my jeans felt one squat away from tearing.

This was insane.

Day 6 – Work Day

I had to work a double shift mowing lawns today, but honestly? I was excited. I wanted to see how this body performed.

And man, did it deliver.

I powered through yard after yard, barely breaking a sweat. My muscles thrived under the work—each push of the mower, each lift of a bag of mulch, it all felt effortless. People actually noticed me for once. The old man next door whistled, impressed. A group of girls jogging by did a double-take.

For the first time in my life, I felt undeniable.

But there was one little problem.

The heat.

The sun was brutal today—beating down for hours, my whole body soaked in sweat. My shirt clung to me, my breath came heavier, my skin felt too tight.

I figured I just needed a break. I sat down, guzzled water, wiped my face—and froze.

My skin wasn’t wiping clean.

I looked down at my arms. The sweat didn’t bead—it sank in. Like my pores had changed. My fingers trembled as I grabbed at my wrist, trying to pinch the suit’s seam.

Nothing.

I reached for my neck, feeling for the edge where the suit met my real skin. It should be there. It should peel.

It didn’t.

My pulse pounded.

I rushed to my truck’s side mirror and stared at myself. Same massive body. Same perfect muscles. Same chiseled jawline.

I pressed my fingers to my face, trying to pull the skin away. It wouldn’t move. It stretched, it flexed, it responded like it belonged.

Because it did.

I swallowed hard, my Adam’s apple bobbing—except now, it wasn’t mine. It was his.

The words from the instructions flashed in my mind—something about heat exposure. About how too much could cause permanent fusion

"Oh fuck..."

I took a slow, shaky breath. My reflection stared back, confident, unshaken.

Maybe this wasn’t the worst thing.

I clenched a massive fist, flexing my arm. I was strong. Powerful. Everything I ever wanted to be.

This was my body now.

And honestly?

I didn’t mind.

[sugarplumkneecaps]

hiiiiii, i saw you were taking shadow the hedgehog x reader requests! I was hoping it would be okay if i requested one? Can i have a shadow the hedgehog x reader (romatic) where shadow when the readers had a really bad day just holds them close and cuddles them after he finally gets them ti admit what happend? And maybe he starts to play with the readers hair, because he knows it brings him comfort when someone does so with his quills? (I like to headcannon lol that shadow pats out his quills when hes idle because it provides comfort due to it reminds him of how maria used to do something similar)

A/N: I feel like this is so on brand for him and love the HC you have for why his idle animation is what it is! I hope I can do your request some justice <3

Comfort

Pairing: Shadow x Reader C/W: none Genre: Wholesome, cuddling, fluff, playing with hair

Life really had a cruel sense of humor, didn’t it? Everything that could have possibly gone wrong today absolutely had. You woke up late, your hair was an absolute mess that was beyond saving, and searching for a hat only made you even more late. Your car had issues starting up, so you had to beg your neighbor to help jumpstart it to get it running again (and you hoped with everything you had that it would start again when you needed to return home. Upon arriving to work, you were lectured and written up for your tardiness, your supervisor having very little patience with everyone but especially you. Customers screamed at you more so than usual, complaining about different orders being wrong in ways they had expected you to figure out on your own. Still, as unjustified as it was, it earned you another talking to about your performance. And the cherry on top was, of course, slipping and covering yourself in the large bucket of sauce you were carrying to the fridge. You did everything you could to try to get it out of your uniform, alas it was an effort in futility.

The only thing that possibly went right was that whatever hoping and praying you did that morning allowed your car to run again. Another downside, however, was that even with the windows rolled all the way down, your seat still stunk of the sauce you were covered in. Cursing the universe, you peeled your uniform off and immediately got in the shower to wash yourself. The warm water did wonders against your skin, washing away your tough exterior. You slunk down to your knees, crying softly as the warm water hit you.

“Love?” Shadow’s voice cut through the sound of the shower. You pulled yourself up, doing your best to compose yourself before he saw you.

“I’m in the shower!” you called back, attempting to sound at the very least neutral. It came off somewhat awkwardly and caught in your throat, almost making you choke on the words.

“Alright, I’ll get dinner set up for you.”

You rushed through the rest of your nightly routine, wiping at the redness under your eyes but to no avail. Shaking the feeling of knowing Shadow might notice, you did your best to fake a smile. Exiting the bathroom, you found dinner put together in a nice display in the center of the table. It was takeout night, and Shadow worked closer to all your favorite eateries. The sight of your favorite cuisine placed lovingly at your spot made your eyes water all over again.

“Everything alright?” Shadow’s voice was dripping with worry.

“Yes! I just appreciate you grabbing dinner,” you smiled, wiping at your eyes in a quick fashion before taking your seat.

For the most part, you both ate in silence, the only thing hanging in the air being your over the top attempts to try to compliment Shadow further. Much like your address in the shower, it came off as forced and awkward. Not that you were a stranger to complimenting your partner, but this felt akin to nonstop yapping than true appreciation. Shadow only thanked you each time, reassuring you it was no issue, and watching you intently.

With dinner done, the inspiration to ask Shadow to watch a movie with you came over you. In reality, you probably should’ve gone to bed, but you were determined to try to at least have a pleasant evening. Shadow obliged, even as his eyebrows knitted with concern. Quickly rummaging through your DVDs, you chose a film haphazardly, shoved it into the disc player and plopped yourself down next to Shadow.

He settled in next to you, a light chuckle rumbling in his chest. “You wanted to watch “Idiocracy”? I thought you hated this movie.” The title stared at you as you realized you had completely blown your cover. You scrambled to figure out a way to cover your blunder.

“Y-yeah! I figured, why not give it another chance? There are so many good meme moments!” you laughed nervously, clicking pressing play and readying yourself to suffer through the film. You truly felt the film was made as a social experiment, perhaps even one with the potential to be used as torture. You had watched it once with your friend and it filled you with a rage that you could not describe. The same friend had given you a copy of your own for your collection of movies as a gag gift, to which you swore up and down you would never subject yourself to it again.

Of course it would be today of all days that you eat your words.

Shaking his head in protest, Shadow reached over and paused the film, sensing your doom. “Alright. What’s going on? You’ve been acting strange.”

You swallowed hard, working at the lump forming in your throat, “nothing! I’m fine, let’s start the movie-”

Your outstretched hand was grasped by Shadow’s, preventing you from keeping up with this facade. His crimson eyes were intense as they searched your face, his smooth voice serious, “tell me. We promised to not keep things from each other. Let me help.”

As if a dam had been broken, your eyes welled with tears and they poured down your cheeks. “Today has just been-“ hic “the worst.” And just as he had asked, you spilled everything. How you woke up late, your car wouldn’t start, how awful work had been, everything. He listened intently, his hand moving to caress your cheek before pulling you into an embrace. You sat there for awhile, your shoulders heaving as you cried.

Shadow pulled away for an instant, moving to the disc player and ejected the wretched movie in favor of one of your comfort films. He moved silently into the kitchen, filling up a water bottle and gathering up some of your favorite snacks. You wiped at your wet face, watching on curiously.

He set everything down before you and sat once again next to you, pulling you into his arms. You did little to prevent the shift, feeling a great amount of comfort from his touch. The movie started up, the opening scenes working magic on your nerves. You exhaled a much needed breath.

A gentle smile stretched along Shadow’s lips as he moved his hand up and began to stroke your hair. The soothing sensation rivaled the work of the Sandman himself as your eyelids began to droop. The sounds of Shadow’s steady breathing mixed with the background noises of your favorite film set the perfect backdrop for you to fall asleep, Shadow’s fingers working through your hair gently to seal your fate. Images of better days fueled by Shadow’s love for you made their way into your mind. You sighed one last time as you drifted asleep in Shadow’s arms.

[myjjongie]

CHAPTER TWENTYTWO.ᐟ ── i fear. maybe. maybe he wants you???

SYNOPSIS: you and jay have been at each others throats for the whole time you've been enrolled at decelis university. the reason for the rivalry in question? the #1 rank on the academic leaderboard in the university. you went through your whole high school life being #1 on the academic leaderboard. you meet jay, who also had the same upbringing in high school. things then start to turn into a constant battle. leaving you constantly in second place and jay in first place every rank update.

word count; 651

my head suddenly jolted up at the jingle of the cafe door opening. i immediately recognized the familiar burgundy hair that heeseung had. despite feeling calm seconds before. my heart was once again thumping in my chest.

the aching pain that followed alongside my heart beating rapidly in my chest felt unbearable. but all that mattered was me finally here patching up things with heeseung.

“hey…!” i couldn’t help but greet heeseung awkwardly. it had been two and a half weeks since we last spoke. the only natural way i could act was in total awkwardness.

“hey yn. how have you been?” heeseung greeted back. he let off a soft smile as he pulled the chair out to sit in front of me.

“i’ve been good. could be better?” i looked away from heeseung as i let out a meek laugh.

“uh… what about you?” now i was the one to ask heeseung the same thing.

“i’ve been good as well. happy that we finally get to patch things up though if i’m gonna be honest. did you order anything yet?”

i shook my head no at his question. “i have some plans after so i didn’t think of ordering anything…” the air fell into silence as i replied to him. after what felt like forever but was mere seconds, i broke the silence.

“heeseung i’m sorry. i shouldn’t have acted the way i did. i’m sorry for running away from everything instead of confronting you and having a genuine conversation with you. most importantly i’m sorry i hurt you… i understand if you want me out of your sight for a while…” my voice broke the silence as my head hung low. my leg bounced as the creeping anxiety stirred again, while my eyes were fixed on the table.

“it’s okay yn. i get it. the situation was bizarre and out of left field. but come on yn lift up your head. i will admit i was hurt like you said. but i wouldn’t let this situation create a rift into our friendship. even though our situation is that of now cousins i still wanna hold a friendship with you.”

my head lifted up at his words. the anxiety that formed began to clear away at heeseung’s words. despite my actions he still held out a hand for our friendship.

“of course i’d still like to be friends.” the corners of my lips turned into a smile.

“i’m glad! and truthfully speaking. i was just as embarrassed as you were. who knew my mom’s boyfriend was your uncle.”

my hands covered my face as i recalled the events of everything. heeseung was just as embarrassed yet i had acted like a total asshole to him.

“god. knowing how you feel makes me feel even more shitty. please let me make it up to you! i’ll treat you to lunch, dinner. you name it!”

“i’ll take you up on your offer for lunch then. we can arrange it sometime in the future?”

before heeseung and i could continue one with small talk his phone rang. heeseung pulled his phone out from his pocket to look at it.

“oh i gotta get going now. gotta go figure some stuff out from a past meeting we had. i’m really happy we got to settle this out yn.” heeseung’s smile looked more happy this time.

“me too!” i couldn’t help but return a happy smile back to him.

“now that we’ve fixed this i better see you at the next meeting! i’ll text you later about that lunch though okay?” heeseung then packed his things getting ready to leave.

i waved goodbye to heeseung as he exited the cafe. exhaling a satisfied sigh i leaned back in my chair. finally the conflict between heeseung and i was resolved. once sitting back up, i fished in my purse to find my phone and text jay.

prev | m.list | next

a.note; finally hee and yn can be normal and be friends again. life is so good. now i focus on building the enemies to friends to lovers pipe line :3 also sorry if the writing portion wasn't up to par. my brain was not working with me this time around :(

fighting for first taglist (open) ...

@idontknowhowtomakeusernames @right-person-wrong-time @jakeyverse @minthoons @punchbug9-blog @starfallia @heartheejake @ikeulove @rairaiblog @kazemiya @yourssincerely-mimi @wondipity @leehsngs @justalittle-hee @chandmyseven @letwiiparkjay @dylanobr1ens @bbsantc @beigerin @mwahvvis @nickiminajleftasscheek @firstclassjaylee @strayy-kidz @itrytomakesenseofitall @rikizm @sumzysworld @jiheonie @heelovesmeknot @qfeet @jungwoniee

©myjjongie 2024

[statementlou]

ZAYN'S FIRST TOUR I can’t believe it’s over guys… like not only my shows, but also the WHOLE TOUR, it’s like a double punch, that was so fucking fun!! But also it’s just the fucking start, by the end he was having so much FUN, we’ve really got him hooked and cleansed of his demons now yall, it is ON and I’m so excited. It was weird having tickets first to the opening show of the whole tour, and then it got changed to somewhere in the middle, and then it got changed again to the LAST two shows of tour, a whole rollercoaster, and not getting the opening show after all was disappointing but in the end I loved getting to go to the end of it. I loved watching the lives- starting out saying, oh I’ll just watch the first one probably, but then it was so good and he ended up being so much fun that I just didn’t want to miss a thing, and the change from start to finish… honestly mind blowing. I went on the first SF night with fellow livestream gang girlie @justanothershadeofblue but also with @uhoh-but-yeah-alright and @homosociallyyours who had not been watching the lives or videos at all, didn’t know the setlist, etc, and seeing him up there just ON FIRE, yelling and bouncing and chatting, so outgoing and excited and comfortable laughing and teasing and playing off the crowd and hitting every mark… I could say to them, wow at the beginning he was so nervous and awkward and mumbly and would mess up and have to be like oh uh can we restart that song all the time and didn't interact with the crowd at all, this is really different, but how can anyone really believe that when he’s just owning the space and yelling FUUUUCK YEAH!! every couple minutes at the top of his lungs?? Incredible!! The BLOSSOMING we've witnessed these last few months has been a fucking gift, for real, I'm so proud and happy for him.

Anyway more specific show thoughts: I danced and waved my arms around like an absolute idiot the whole time it was great, he was SO FUNNY and fun, the energy feedback loop of him getting so excited by us being hype and it feeling so good to make him so happy and getting even more hype, SO FUN, I loved that he seemed to be genuinely excited by the idea of San Francisco for whatever reason even if he did call it San Fran about 8000 times like a giant nerd, like I’m very lucky to live somewhere where I get to see them at all but after how Harry and Louis for example play out in the outlying areas and plus treat Bay Area shows as an afterthought to deal with on their way to LA it felt really nice, and I also felt super blessed to get to go to the end of the zour because although throughout he had struggled some with learning to sing SO MUCH AT A TIME without losing his voice (Zayn HIRE HELENE) and had to be conscious of that, on that final night he didn’t have to worry and just went for it and it was EVERYTHING, and! Most important of all! Even though at least for me I think night one was superior on night two the most important thing of all happened, something I will treasure forever even though I didn’t get it on video and didn’t even realize what I was experiencing until right after it happened: I, bander, was in the room when Zayn Malik said my favorite Zayn Malikism of all time right there in front of my salad, I experienced the beloved WHOOPSEH DAISEH with my own two ears!! So grateful, so zlessed, life is good! He also said vas happening but idk what to tell you, I’m a whooseh daiseh girlie forever I loved every minute of this tour, and can’t wait for the shows coming up, and also the circumstances were so shit and it doesn’t make Liam’s death any less tragic nor have I forgotten: but I am really glad that as a fandom we got something nice and fun and happy during this time, we really needed that. Was thinking last night though about how when we got the tickets for this Megan and I were like holy shit we never thought Zayn would tour, now we really will get to see 5/5 playing solo shows together, we’ll just need to go see Liam sometime after this…. it’ll be 4/5 forever now. But not the 4 you would have guessed a year ago, and I am truly happy for Zayn that he's been able to feel the joy of performing again, and in a lot of ways probably for the first time it's been like this.

[rippleclan]

RippleClan: Moon 90, Part 3

[Image ID: Lightningrunner yowls at Estherfern, "You took her from me! I barely got to know her! Why do you get to be a mother when she didn’t get to be mine?" Shrewflame and Whitepaw run toward the pair.]

ONE MOON PRIOR…

It seemed like a waste of a skilled cleric's time to accompany an apprentice to his training, but Estherfern supposed she would want someone close by if one of her kits were to injure themselves carelessly. She strolled beside Lightningrunner as Shrewflame and Whitepaw pranced ahead of them, making their way to Battle Beach. It seemed like far too gray and bright a day to spar, but the youth of RippleClan didn't care much for her opinion.

"Mr. Billowhaze said to be careful by the water," Whitepaw chirped, gazing up at his older brother like a Clan oogles a new leader. "Do you think Mom's stories about fish-cats are real?"

"Mom's an artisan, not a historian," Shrewflame laughed. "Her stories are all fake. Don't worry, the only creatures you should worry about in the ocean are poisonous fish."

"I don't think that makes me feel better," Whitepaw chuckled awkwardly. The two brothers left dainty pawprints in the sand.

"If you want to know more about the ocean," Lightningrunner said, "ask me anything."

"I will, Ms. Lightningrunner," Whitepaw promised, turning an ear back to her. Estherfern hummed softly at the young apprentice's strange phrasing. There was something humble about the titles, even though Estherfern had no idea what they meant.

"Battle Beach!" Shrewflame chirped as the patrol crossed into that special portion of the shoreline. To Estherfern, there was nothing particularly special about this portion of the beach as opposed to any other stretch of snow-dusted land. She wouldn't have known of their arrival had Shrewflame not pointed it out. Still, her Clanmates raved about fond memories sparring along the sand, so it was yet another thing she learned to keep her mouth shut about.

"Is sparring at all like that big fight Mr. Tallowheart and Ms. Cobaltchaser had?" Whitepaw asked, kneading the sand.

"That was just a fight, Whitepaw," Shrewflame laughed, running his tail over Whitepaw's head as he walked past. "When we spar with our Clanmates, we're practicing our skills and challenging ourselves. We aren't hurting one another, though. That's why you don't unseathe your claws. You aren't supposed to draw blood when you're training."

"I won't," Whitepaw promised. He ran to catch up with Shrewflame. He glanced back at Estherfern and Lightningrunner and called, "Ms. Lightningrunner, are you going to spar too?"

"I'll let you start with your brother!" Lightningrunner called. Estherfern found a partially dry spot closer to the trees. She sat her bandage down and tucked her paws under herself. Lightningrunner sat beside her, tail stirring the dusting of snow behind her. Shrewflame steadied himself, paws dug into the sand. Whitepaw copied him as best he could. His legs stretched out a bit too far to look comfortable.

"I'll start simple," Shrewflame said. "A lot of the basics of fighting involve the sort of moves cats instinctually use when they're in danger. Paw swipes, grabbing onto your enemy, things like that. Let's start with swipes. Swipe at my face, as best you—" Whitepaw's fluffy paw whipped out from his awkward stance. He smacked Shrewflame across the face. Shrewflame stumbled to the side, blinking wildly.

"Ah!" Whitepaw yelped. "Sorry, sorry! Are you okay?" Whitepaw hovered around Shrewflame, now scared to get too close. But Shrewflame just laughed. He shook out his pelt, letting his laughter ripple through his ginger fur.

"Now that was a swipe!" Shrewflame roared, rubbing his face on his leg. "StarClan, Whitepaw! Who knew you were so strong?" Whitepaw chuckled awkwardly, but his ears perked high and his tail unwound itself from his side.

Shrewflame went on about angling your paw and steadying yourself after a strike, but Estherfern's attention drifted. The forest had grown grayer by the day, and the snow meant approaching death and hibernation to the plants her fellow clerics so valued. She never imagined caring so much about medical stocks, but she never imagined any of this when she first set off west under the orders of her God.

"These two will be fine," Estherfern huffed to Lightningrunner, stretching as she stood. "I'm going to forage. Will you help?"

"Alright," Lightningrunner said, getting to her paws. Estherfern left her bandage behind and led Lightningrunner into the trees as Shrewflame and Whitepaw laughed and batted at each other.

RippleClan would soon turn to bark-based medicine as winter rolled in and vibrant herbs vanished, but it wasn't winter yet. It was the sort of weather where everything looked a bit like Estherfern; brown and tan and earthy. She could see how the world fought to ignore the approaching chill, even though the first frost had settled over the land. Green grass mixed with yellow, insisting on life. The earliest of winter blooms still dared not to show themselves. The land was waiting, preparing, hoping for a peaceful winter, just like all the Clans.

Estherfern brushed aside snow to get a better look at every plant. Not too far from Battle Beach, she uncovered chicory, its leaves almost identical to a dandelion. Artisans and caretakers could roast the root for their meals and strengthen everyone's stomaches. Estherfern carefully dug around the leaves and plucked the root from the frosty dirt.

"Is this something we should collect?" Lightningrunner called. Her paw danced around a large fallen branch, sprinkled with golden-brown mushrooms. Estherfern joined Lightningrunner and looped around the branch. She studied the mushrooms and their round caps, with a name quickly coming to mind.

"Deadly skullcaps," Estherfern warned, shaking her head. "I knew these mushrooms in my kithood. They are some of the most toxic mushrooms any cat has ever seen. They're as deadly as deathberries. Don't touch them."

Estherfern trotted back to her chicory root and picked it up. She glanced back at Lightningrunner, ready for the young historian to follow her to better, safer herbs. Yet Lightningrunner just stood there. She stared at the deadly skullcaps. Her dark blue eyes were slit and sharp. Her unnerving, unblinking glare drifted onto Estherfern.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" Estherfern huffed, dropping the chicory root. Lightningrunner looked back to the deadly skullcaps.

"You should eat them," Lightningrunner said. Estherfern's claws instinctually slipped out. Her ears perked high, turning sideways, alert and ready.

"Say that again," Estherfern said. Lightningrunner's whiskers pushed back against her face. Her ears slowly turned backward, fighting not to go back. She looked at Estherfern once more. Her jaw quivered, searching for the path forward.

"You…" Lightningrunner gulped. She steadied herself, just as Shrewflame readied for Whitepaw's initial strike. "You should eat them. You, you should eat them, and you should die."

"By God, Lightningrunner, you're talking nonsense," Estherfern snapped. "What's gotten into you?"

"I," Lightningrunner stammered, "You… Ugh! What sort of justice is it when a killer goes free?" Lightningrunner curled her lips.

"Again, Lightningrunner," Estherfern growled, "you're talking nonsense. Justice? What justice?"

"You know what justice!" Lightningrunner cried. Her voice rose so fast and violent that Estherfern jumped. Estherfern never jumped. "You know what you did! You summoned the spirits. You got my mom killed!" Ah. That justice.

"I was wondering if you would ask me about that someday," Estherfern sighed, smoothing her pelt. "I don't have good answers for you, Lightningrunner. I meddled with forces I thought I could control, and RippleClan suffered for it. I've done what I can to atone."

"No you haven't," Lightningrunner whined. "You got away with it because Foampaw died, but what about Silverpaw? What about my mom? Do you think there's anything you can do to make up for that? I never saw her body, Estherfern! She was my mom! You took her from me! I barely got to know her! Why do you get to be a mother when she didn’t get to be mine?" Estherfern had no clever retort to that. She dipped her head, but her eyes caught a flash of red in the trees. Shrewflame and Whitepaw slowly approached the arguing pair, ears cocked in confusion.

"I'm sorry, Lightningrunner," Estherfern sighed, straightening, "but I'm not killing myself for you."

"Yes, yes you are," Lightningrunner growled, tail curling, voice cracking. "Eat the mushrooms, or… or I'll just kill you myself!" Shrewflame and Whitepaw ran. Lightningrunner's eyes bounced, blind to all but her own vengeance. "Eat them! Eat them, you foxheart!"

Lightningrunner ran at Estherfern. Whitepaw, small Whitepaw, too-strong-for-his-age Whitepaw, launched past his brother and landed on Lightningrunner's neck, a tail-length from Estherfern. Whitepaw's fangs dug into her scruff, but no, it wasn't her scruff, his jaw wasn't in the right spot, it was her neck, her spine, Whitepaw let go right now—

Light sparked in Lightningrunner's eyes as a violent spasm took over her body. Blood splashed in Whitepaw's mouth. Lightningrunner's strength ebbed away. Her claws, tense and ready to strike, relaxed. She grew limp as leather underneath Whitepaw. Lightningrunner didn't even have time to whine before her life left her.

Whitepaw let go. Shrewflame stumbled upon the scene, his body begging to retreat. Estherfern stood over Lightningrunner's body. She no longer looked like a killer. She looked like a kit.

Whitepaw whined, a wordless, painful cry. He fell off Lightningrunner's body. He ran to Shrewflame, burying his bloody face in his brother's red fur.

"How…" Shrewflame gulped. "What… I don't…"

"I was trying to pull her off!" Whitepaw wailed, voice muffled in Shrewflame's pelt. "I didn't want her to hurt Ms. Estherfern! I didn't want to hurt her!"

"White, White, I know," Shrewflame cooed. He slowly wrapped himself around his weeping brother, hiding all traces of blood-stained white fur from the world. Whitepaw shook so hard that Shrewflame struggled to stay upright. "I know, I know. It was an accident. I know, White. You didn't mean it."

But would the Clan see it that way? Another dead Clanmate, killed, murdered. It had nothing to do with Potterypool, but would anyone believe them? Estherfern barely believed her own senses. An apprentice, barely a quarter moon into training, somehow landing a killing bite on a well-trained historian? Not just any historian, the little sister to one of RippleClan's most unified and beloved families, the daughter of Weedfoot, the Celestial of RippleClan Deputies. The three cats who stood before Lightningrunner's body were outsiders, welcomed into the safety of the shipwreck. Would any of them be allowed to remain after this? Who would believe Lightningrunner, of all cats, would suddenly try to kill Estherfern? Who would see Whitepaw's actions as justified?

No. Whitepaw and Shrewflame were barely out of kithood. They wouldn't suffer for a mess Estherfern caused. This was justice.

"Both of you, listen to me," Estherfern snapped. Shrewflame and Whitepaw snapped out of their shock for just a moment, looking up. Whitepaw looked pink with the blood on his lips. "I'm going to fix this. Nothing will happen to you, Whitepaw. Shrewflame, here, now." Shrewflame slipped himself out from around Whitepaw and crept closer to Lightningrunner's body. Estherfern studied the deadly wound. Even though Whitepaw was close to full-grown, it was clear that no adult cat bit into Lightningrunner. "Shrewflame, I need you to bite into Lightningrunner. You have to cover up Whitepaw's teethmarks."

"But—" Shrewflame stammered, gagging on the thought.

"Shrewflame, we are doing this to protect your brother," Estherfern growled. "Bite her neck, now."

Shrewflame's lips curled, almost prancing in his indecision. But then he looked back at Whitepaw, with wide eyes and his awful, bloody face. Shrewflame hardened. He squeezed his eyes tight and snapped his fangs around the back of Lightningrunner's neck. Estherfern tuned out the squish of flesh and bone.

"Now, both of you, to the ocean," Estherfern ordered as Shrewflame let go and hurried back to Whitepaw. "You're going to wash the blood out of your fur. Don't get out until it's all gone. Then you're going to run to camp and tell the codekeepers that Lightningrunner is dead." Whitepaw pressed against Shrewflame. "This is what happened. While you were swimming, Lightningrunner went to investigate a sound in the forest. When she didn't come back, we went to find her. We found her body. We don't know who did this. We were on the beach. We heard nothing."

"I killed her," Whitepaw whined.

"No you didn't," Estherfern growled, trying to soften her voice. "Not anymore. No one will know. You're not in trouble. You're my hero, Whitepaw, you did nothing wrong. Now go." Whitepaw moved toward Estherfern, but Shrewflame nudged him back. He shook his head, wide eyes glancing at Lightningrunner. He shoved Whitepaw back toward the beach. The two young toms scrambled out of sight.

Estherfern paced around Lightningrunner's body. She brushed the snow with her tail, removing nearby pawprints. No one would be able to tell which way the attacker came from, even if they questioned the patrol's story. With her tail coated in frost and the scene firmly scuffled, Estherfern sat at Lightningrunner's side, like a cleric mourning her charge.

"You stupid child," Estherfern moaned, lowering her head into Lightningrunner's pelt.

No one would know.

(Estherfern: 123, female, cleric, adventurous, great mediator, prophecy seeker)

(Whitepaw: 6, male, historian apprentice, nervous, active imagination)

(Shrewflame: 13, male, teacher, loyal, fast as the wind)

(Lightningrunner: 19, female, historian, nervous, explorer, helpful insight)

[Image ID: Estherfern says to Lemmy, "I don't want to ruin her legacy over a moment of weakness. Do you want the Clan to look at Whitepaw like a killer?" Halibutdusk, Scaleripple, and Oilstripe approach from the distance.]

---

At the end of the story, Lemmy could only sit and think it through. Honeybuzz and Estherfern stared at her, silent, squirming. The quarantine den seemed even colder now.

"No one would know," Lemmy muttered, staring at Estherfern. "Yet you told Honeybuzz."

"I have…" Honeybuzz groaned, "let's say experience with issues like these. Do you understand why we can't let the Clan know now?"

"Call me a hypocrite for this," Lemmy huffed, "but if Lightningrunner tried to kill you, Estherfern, wouldn't you want the Clan to know?" Estherfern bristled.

"None of it would have happened if I had not communed with Spirits of Shadow," the old cleric sighed. "Lightningrunner had the right to be mad at me. I don't want to ruin her legacy over a moment of weakness. Do you want the Clan to look at Whitepaw like a killer?"

Pawsteps broke the snow outside. It had gotten brighter in the time Estherfern spent telling her story. Now morning light burned against the trees beyond. Scaleripple, Halibutdusk, and Oilstripe stood outside, stone still. Time for the trial. Lemmy sighed and stood, squaring herself in front of her Clanmates' painful gaze.

"We need a little more time, please," Honeybuzz stammered, getting up and close to Lemmy's escorts. "We want this to be easy on the Clan. We're not done talking with Lemmy."

"I want her out of this camp," Scaleripple growled. Oilstripe cleared her throat, diverting Scaleripple's boiling blue hate away from Lemmy for a moment.

"The spirits in here are agitated," Oilstripe whispered, ears tilting back, ruffling the thick maple leaves stuck to her fur. "We don't want a long trial. If they can make her tell the truth now, the whole Clan won't have to hurt for long."

"Everyone's waiting, Oilstripe," Halibutdusk huffed.

"I know," Oilstripe groaned, "but do you think they'd rather sit there all day or wait a bit longer and be done with all this before sunhigh?" Halibutdusk and Scaleripple both squirmed, but neither confronted their deputy. Oilstripe turned to Honeybuzz and said, "Lead her out into the clearing when you're finished here." Honeybuzz nodded as Oilstripe led Scaleripple and Halibutdusk back around the shipwreck.

"We don't have long, Lemmy," Estherfern sighed. "I know you don't see your actions as strictly right and wrong, so why see this differently? There's no crazed killer living in our Clan. Don't make them suffer more than they already are." Lemmy's neck itched under her collar. Her head ached. Was there any good decision here? Was this any different than Lemmy's own coverup? Did the truth deserve to come to light? Or would the truth hurt worse than the lie?

"If I say I killed both Potterypool and Lightningrunner," Lemmy said softly, "what then?"

"Unless something strange happens at the trial," Honeybuzz explained, "Downstar has promised to exile you. Just play along with Waspdawn's version of events." Exile… not much different from the life Lemmy knew before RippleClan, before the Witch Hunters. And it wasn't as though she would lack purpose. There were still threats to the cats she cared for, threats to her kits and mate. She would do more good alive than dead. Even if it meant never seeing her daughters again. Maybe they would understand, one day.

"Do one thing for me, in return," Lemmy said. "Take care of my family."

"You deserve that, at least," Honeybuzz sighed. "Thank you. Are you ready, then?" Lemmy slowly approached the edge of the quarantine den. She could smell the grief and rage wafting off her Clan, just around the corner. The sun burned the land in brilliant purple and red, yet no warmth pierced the snow that muffled all birdsong. The walls of the shipwreck burned with illusionary fire. A good final view of her home.

"Take me to my exile," Lemmy sighed.

(Lemmy: 66, female, exiled, cold, deep StarClan bond, good mediator)

(Honeybuzz: 38, male, cleric, daring, skilled toolsmith, good teacher)

(Estherfern: 124, female, cleric, adventurous, great mediator, prophecy seeker)

(Scaleripple: 43, male, warrior, lonesome, formidable fighter)

(Oilstripe: 94, female, deputy, charismatic, ghost speaker)

(Halibutdusk: 82, nonbinary (they/them), warrior, gloomy, masterful storyteller, clever)