#and we just BARELY EVER GET HIM AGAIN?! CRIMES

[deadlydelicious]

god everytime I watch an Adam episode I am reminded of how fucking annoyed I am that they never made Adam a bigger part of the story.

like his existence is a FASCINATING story opportunity, and Jake Abel is a GOOD fucking actor

and they just....truck him out for like half a dozen episodes over a 15 year run and forget him otherwise. Art Thou Kidding Me? I can remember watching this first time around HARDCORE expecting him to be wrapped into the story and they just....dropped him?!?

[criminalamnesia]

that 141 x reader you just did was so good! i need to know what happens next. like after reader is better, do they stay in the military? stay in 141? or do they take a discharge? I’m not the original ask but it was just so good.

love your writing btw!

thank you! here’s part two :)

ALL PARTS CAN BE FOUND HERE

you were beginning to hate the infirmary.

the white walls. the moans of pain. the smell of bleach and blood.

the reminder of why you were here. of who put you here.

your friends. your family. your team. john. johnny. kyle. simon.

you’d told the doctor to not let your teammates in, and she had tried, but there was only so much she could do. she couldn’t monitor the door all the time, and so a week after waking up from your coma, john price is sitting at your beside once again.

his hands are clasped together, knuckles white with the intensity of his grip. he’s leaning forward, elbows resting on the bed, hands under his chin. his position conveys his regret and worry. he looks like he should be in church, knelt between the pews and spewing silent prayers to a god that isn’t listening.

you haven’t spoken to him since he sat down ten minutes ago. the second you saw him step inside the infirmary, you knew he was there for you. there to try and speak to you, to apologize.

fuck him and his apologies.

you turned your head to the side, eyes staring at the white curtain separating your bed from the next. you studied the stitching while you listened to him breathe next to you. he hadn’t spoken either— just sat down and watched you.

it made your skin crawl, how he thought this was okay. how he thought this would be the way to get back into your good graces.

he clears his throat then, a sound you’ve heard a million times before. it makes you want to gag now.

“love,” his voice is soft, caring. you want to hit him in the jaw.

“can we talk? please?”

you don’t turn over, don’t even spare him a glance. you keep your gaze trained on the curtain. the only giveaway that he has your attention is the fists you clench at your sides.

he takes the silence as an invitation, that bastard.

“what happened—” he begins, then grunts. stops. takes a second, then begins again.

“what we did,” he says, and you roll your eyes. “it wasn’t right. the intel was from a trusted source. we—” he sighs then, and you can tell he’s rubbing his temple. he did that when he was stressed. when he was anxious.

“we were wrong to believe them over you, love. and im— im sorry.”

silence ensues. you don’t give him any indication that you’ve heard what he said. he sighs again, inhaling deeply.

“you’re still part of this team. johnny and gaz, they’ve been sitting outside this damn room like sentries. can barely pry ‘em away for drills.” he chuckles then, but it’s sad. pitiful. mournful.

“there’s nothing we can do to make this right,” he tells you. you’re still mulling over what he said about johnny and gaz. still hung up on the fact that he didn’t mention simon at all.

simon, who did the most damage to you, both psychologically and physically. simon, who shared your bed. simon.

simon, who is too much of a coward to face you for his crimes.

“but we want to try,” price is speaking again. “if you’ll let us.”

he stops talking. waits a beat, then two. then, you hear his chair scrape. he’s getting up, and that’s when you turn your head to face him.

he looks bad. bags under the eyes, skin pale, beard overgrown. you think he deserves this. deserves worse than this. his eyes meet yours, and they widen the tiniest bit at the attention you’re showing him.

your voice is full of venom as you speak.

“nothing,” you seethe, angry tears blurring your vision. “will ever undo what you did to me. what he did to me.”

price knows you’re talking about simon. the whole team knew you were a thing. hell, when they’d strapped you to that chair and debated who would ‘interrogate’ you, they hadn’t even thought to include simon. why would he want to torture the person he loved?

to their surprise, he had volunteered to take point.

“when i get out of this bed,” you continue. “im gone. and i never, never, want to see any of you again, or else im putting a fucking bullet between your eyes.”

the captain doesn’t speak. you can see the remorse on his face. you couldn’t care less about his feelings.

he gives a short nod, and without another word, he turns and leaves the room.

after john’s visit, no one else tries to visit you. you no longer catch glimpses of kyle or johnny outside the infirmary door. you’re glad they’re starting to get the hint.

but you’re still getting flowers. you don’t know where they’re coming from. sometimes they’re dropped off by a nurse, other times they appear in the morning after a restless sleep. there’s never a note. never anything to suggest who would be leaving them.

you know it’s one of the 141, but you don’t know exactly who. you feel certain it’s not simon.

but, unbeknownst to you, it is him. he knows you don’t want to see him— to see any of them. price had told them all about what you’d said to him during your talk.

price had also told them that he’d already started preparing your transfer papers. that had caused an uproar from soap, who’d quickly been quieted by a saddened price.

simon had expected it. expected worse, actually. he knew that if the roles had been reversed, he wouldn’t have been as merciful as you. it made him hate what they’d done to you so much more.

there had been the tiniest doubt in his mind when all the evidence pointed to you. he hadn’t believed it at first— and then things became damning. everything pointed to you. trusted sources were pointing their fingers at you, and everyone listened. he had listened.

he had volunteered to torture you because he’d been angry. rage he hadn’t felt in years bubbled to the surface of his skin, and he wanted to tear you limb from limb. how dare you come into their lives— his life— and betray them so substantially?

simon didn’t trust easily. he was battered and broken and scarred. shattered and malformed pieces hastily glued back together. he let the team in. let you in. let you see his face. let you into his bed. let you into his fucking heart.

and you turned around and drove a dagger into him. or so he thought.

he thought his anger and actions had been justified. thought he was doing the world a favor by butchering you. but he was wrong. the team was wrong.

he finds himself regretting how he hadn’t listened to your pleas, but there’s nothing he can do about it now.

he knows the chances of you forgiving him, of letting him back into your life, are slim to none. but how could he not at least try?

you’d know each other for years. been together for years. all of it thrown away because he still knew the hurt of betrayal all too well. because it was too easy to fall back into the mindset that it was him against everyone. that the only person he knew, the only one he could rely on, was himself.

so he left flowers. your favorite ones. and he did so without making you face him, without apologizing or groveling. it was the least he owed you.

a month after your coma, you were finally allowed out of the infirmary. you were still healing, skin still tender and bruised. pink, jagged scars lining your skin; eternal reminders of the pain you’d been subjected to.

you’d been given a t-shirt and a pair of jeans, which you’d pulled on with much fuss. every time you struggled or stumbled, you found yourself getting angry. angry at the men who did this to you.

the anger was going to eat you alive, at least that’s what the psychologist that had been dropping by to see you had said. she’d told you you need to let it go, and you’d laughed in her face.

how do you let something like this go?

you didn’t know. you didn’t think you were strong enough to do that. not a good enough person to forgive the men that had carved into you.

once you had dressed, you shuffled out into the hallway. you’d profusely denied an escort, and the doctor had reluctantly acquiesced. she’d let you go, with just the promise that you’d keep your iv hooked in.

so here you were, trudging down the halls of the base, iv pole rattling along behind you.

you could feel eyes on you, but no one dared to get too close. you were glad. you didn’t want more empty apologies and sympathetic words.

you still remembered the way to price’s office like the back of your hand. you doubted you’d ever forget it.

time and time again you’d found yourself here. sometimes, getting reprimanded. others, congratulated. a few times you’d shown up in tears, and price had let you in without a word.

now you were standing outside his door, trying to contain the rage in your veins.

you raised a hand. knocked once, firm and loud.

“come in!” price called from inside.

you were already twisting the door knob, pushing into the room.

your eyes found price first. he was leaning against his desk, arms crossed over his chest. his hat was absent from his head, instead resting beside him on the desk.

and then you noticed simon.

he was wearing all black. his hands were covered, bones decorating the black gloves. gloves you’d seen many times before. gloves that had been pressed to gunshots, trying to stop the bleeding.

the lower half of his face was covered, allowing you to see from his eyes up. his sandy blonde hair was ruffled.

you quickly turned your attention back to price.

“love, what are you doin’ here? you should be in bed—” he began, but you waved a hand as you stepped further into the room. you pulled your iv pole in behind you, then kicked the door shut.

“don’t talk, just listen. i still mean what i said when you came to visit. the only reason im here right now is because you haven’t put in for my fucking transfer.” you hissed.

the captain’s eyes widened, his face taking on a sheepish expression at the revelation that he’d been caught. simon stood quietly beside him, eyes trained on you. you ignored him.

“love, i didn’t want to do anything before you were ready—” he began. you cut him off.

“bullshit! you didn’t want to do anything because you don’t want me to leave. you want me to forgive you, right? hear you all out? come back and be a happy little family again?”

the room fell eerily silent as you stared at the captain. your heart was roaring in your ears.

“put in the fucking transfer, john.” you finished.

he reluctantly nodded. he inhaled, his eyes glancing at his lieutenant briefly, before he spoke again.

“of course, love. ‘m sorry.”

you didn’t say anything else. you turned to go, your back to the men, when simon’s voice cut through the air.

“you should be respectful to your captain, sergeant.”

you froze as you took in his words. was he fucking serious?

you didn’t turn around. you trained your eyes on the door as you spoke words through gritted teeth.

“you should watch your tongue, lieutenant, before I fucking cut it off.”

with that, you pulled open the door and stepped into the hallway, slamming it loudly behind you.

author’s note:

apologies for the wait! I hope everyone enjoyed! (this is being posted before proofreading, so I hope it’s okay— I’ll read through it later, it’s just late and im tired lol)

[atticrissfinch]

Father's Day | (joel miller x reader) (18+)

A Meet Me in the Back Oneshot

pairing: sleazy gas station clerk!joel miller x fem!reader summary: Father's Day isn't your favorite day. Joel tries to make up for that. warnings/tags: [18+ MINORS DNI] age gap (no specifics), daddy!kink, praise!kink, ass-eating (f receiving), fingering, a lot of fucking angst and fluff, kind of hurt/comforty ig, reader wears joel's boxers, a lot of Complicated Father Feelings on both sides for these knuckleheads, idk where this came from word count: ~2.1K | ao3 a/n: this came out of NOWHERE but suddenly i really wanted to write a little something for Father's Day. This takes place on their first Father's Day together, so a few months post-part 6. Am I writing this to heal some of my own feelings about this holiday? who's to say, really. but i hope you enjoy this little surprise <3 Un-beta'd and barely proofread so I'm sorry if there are glaring mistakes. I just wanted to get this out on Father's Day :)

Series Masterlist | Masterlist | Kofi

“Bit of a weird day for you, I take it?”

You blink out of your zoned-out state, some guy with poofy hair waxing poetic about the Easter Island heads being planted by aliens on Joel’s television (“His name is Giorgio A. Tsoukalos, baby.” “You couldn’t spell that if your life fucking depended on it, Joel. Don’t act like it’s a crime that I don’t remember his name.”).

“Hmm?”

“Today. Father’s Day. Bit of a weird day?” He asks again, pulling one of your bent legs into his lap to stroke his thumb along your thigh.

“Oh,” you say, your mind still drifting back from elsewhere. “Yeah. A bit.”

Joel nods in your peripheral, bending down to place a kiss on the hinge of your knee.

“‘Bit’ might be an understatement, actually.”

Because it is. It’s very difficult to describe your feelings about your father. Even more difficult now that he’s dead, been dead for years. He provided a home for you, bought you the necessities to live, ensured that you never went hungry or thirsty or cold. But he gifted you little else, other than crippling emotional insecurity and an inability to recognize your own achievements as good enough. It’s a bizarre cognitive dissonance that you’ve yet to fully process in your years since he’s been gone.

So, yes. Father’s Day is a bit weird for you.

“You wanna talk about it?”

You worry your bottom lip and start to move your leg out of his lap. “Not particularly.”

“Hey,” he objects, clinging to the back of your knee and hauling it back, “that’s alright with me, little sugarplum. We don’t gotta talk about that fucker if you don’t want. Lord knows I don’t wanna talk about mine.”

And he doesn’t, as far as you’ve noticed. You know barely anything about Joel’s own father. Just that he never talks about him, and he gushes about his mother in contrast. You have some creeping suspicions about his father. The way he was. You have reason to believe that he was significantly worse than your own. But he’s refused to let that get in the way of how he behaves.

Joel has a lot of sides to him, you’ve come to discover. None of them terribly violent, but a very do no harm, but take no shit type of vibe follows him around. You’ve found that other men are not eager to fuck with him. He has this undercurrent of threatening energy when another man starts to act up around a woman. You remember how he was around Nate.

Don’t remember askin’ you a goddamn thing, son.

Those pieces put together lead you to believe that his father was not the most respectful of his mother. Or kind to her at all. He’s never said as much, but you’re pretty good with context clues. You don’t think you’d ever ask, not unless he offered. But you maintain your sensitivity about the subject. He can tell you in time if that’s what he wants.

There’s a sort of comfort in him clinging to your leg, clinging to you in the manner he just did. On any other day, you might not think anything of it. Just Joel, being horny, being himself, wanting to touch you.

But today…today it feels an awful lot like “I want you” and “You’re good enough” and “I’m not leaving”.

A lot like “I’ll be the daddy yours never was”.

You feel a tightness in your throat, a stinging behind your eyes as you study his grip on your leg, his thumb pressing into the flesh, stroking along your skin .

“I want you.”

Stroke.

“You’re good enough.”

Stroke.

“I’m not leaving.”

Stroke.

You mutter, your voice thick, “Daddy?”

A crease indents between his brows as his free hand comes to cup your cheek. “What, baby?”

“I’m…I’m good, right?”

Slight confusion crosses his face. “Baby, I don’t…what do you mean? Good?”

Tears prick at your waterline as you say, “Like I’m good. I’m a good girl.”

“Oh, sugarplum,” Joel breathes, shifting onto his knees to straddle your hips and hover over you as he takes your face, framing it in his hands. “You are the goodest fuckin’ girl I ever met. Beautiful-est, sexiest, most perfect girl.”

You blink and a tear breaches containment down your cheek. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. ‘Fact I think the worst thing you’ve ever done is shack up with this ol’ bag o’bones,” Joel jokes, the corner of his mouth quirking up slightly.

“I don’t,” you say quietly, lifting your fingers to drag through his beard, and Joel’s eyes flutter closed at the contact. “I think you’re one of the best things that’s ever happened to me. You make me feel so fucking good. All the time.”

Joel sighs, pivoting his head to the side to kiss your palm and mumble into it, “Man ain’t a man unless he’s makin’ a woman feel good. Don’t matter the kinda woman. If you’re hurtin’ her in a way that don’t feel good to her, you ain’t a man.”

You run your fingers through his hair and dip your fingers under the dangling hem of his shirt, sliding through the delicate wires adorning his rounded belly. “I like how you hurt me, daddy.”

You can see his cock stiffening in his pants, pressing against the seam, and you had already been wet since he positioned himself above you.

“I know you do, darlin’ girl. You like that daddy hurts you real good, huh?”

“Yeah,” you exhale as Joel’s hand creeps between your legs, rubbing circles into your clit through his boxer briefs you had stolen to lounge in.

“Do somethin’ for me, babygirl,” he requests, observing your face as your eyelids dance and your hips surge toward him.

“Anything,” you whisper, bucking into his hand.

He sinks down to press his lips to your ear, his hot breath sending a shiver down your spine. “I want you to forget all about that fucker who called himself your father and didn’t deserve it. You’ve got a new daddy now, don’t ya? And he knows exactly how to treat ya.”

You gasp as two of his fingers slip inside the fly of his boxers, touching your pussy skin-on-skin for the first time since this wretched day began. And it feels healing.

“Yes, daddy,” you pant, rolling your hips into his fingers as they deftly work your clit under them. You can already hear yourself sopping and wet beneath his movements, slipping between your lips and massaging you torturously as you whine.

“This day ain’t for him anymore, babygirl. Not today, not any year after. Who’s it for now?”

You breath hitches on a moan as a finger teases at your entrance, presses inside. “For you, daddy,” you reply, gasping as his thick finger glides inside your slick heat.

“That’s right,” he rasps, fitting his second finger in along with the first and rubbing at your clit with his thumb through the soaked material of his boxers. “Good girls like you who have daddies that care about them, you know what they get?”

You feel yourself barreling embarrassingly quick to your orgasm, but it’s really more of a testament to how well Joel knows your body and your pleasure at this point in your journey together. He tears you apart like wet tissue paper in his hands, like it takes a single brain cell to send you spiraling. And aren’t you blessed that he has at least one to spare.

“Wh-what do they get, daddy?” You manage to moan out, preparing yourself for whatever filth he has prepared to gift you with that will send you floating through space once it leaves his lips.

Joel captures your mouth with his in a sloppy kiss that has you gasping as you edge closer to your climax, then growls against your lips, “Good little girls with caring daddies on Father’s Day get their tiny, wet little slits fucked until they cry. Don’t they?”

Your mouth falls open in a loud, shameless moan as your hips jut forward, pressing into his hand as you feel your cunt pulse against him in powerful waves, your face flooding with heat as he fucks you through it with his fingers, groaning against your mouth as you come for him for what is likely the millionth time since the first. And yet it still rocks through your body like lightning, leaving you boneless and fried at your ends.

Your chest pounds as Joel pulls soaked fingers from your borrowed underwear and shoves them in his own mouth, sucking off the flavor of your pleasure at his hand with a passionate moan.

“Not fuckin’ enough,” Joel grunts, gripping the band of the boxers and jerking them down your hips, tossing them over the back of the couch and situating himself onto his stomach as he spreads your shaking legs wide in front of his eager mouth.

“Daddy, I’m—” you squeak out, your clit still throbbing and sensitive with your first orgasm as he breathes over it hotly.

“It’s Father’s Day, baby,” he admonishes, gazing up at you from between your thighs, “The least you can do is let me stick somethin’ in the pair of socks you got me. Come inside them like a horny teenager alone in his bedroom,” he teases, licking a long stripe from your asshole to your pussy, flicking at your clit.

“Jesus Christ,” you sigh, but you dig your fingers into his hair regardless. “You can come inside one sock. This sock,” you clarify, slipping two of your fingers inside your cunt.

Joel is quiet for a second, something clearly unusual for him, and you lift your head to glance down. And you see a man mesmerized by the motion of your own fingers fucking into yourself, his lips parted and eyes glazed over in lust.

“Fuck me. Keep doin’ that,” he mutters, settling his chin onto the cushion of the couch and spreading your asscheeks to mouth hungrily at your asshole.

“Fuck, daddy,” you whine, tugging at his hair as you fuck yourself with your fingers, thumb finding your clit in tandem.

Joel groans, face buried in your ass as you feel the sharpened tip of his tongue pushing past the tight ring. Heat burns in your stomach at the sensation, something that he doesn’t do often, and you think it’s because he knows it feels too fucking good to indulge all the time.

But he eats at you ravenously, plunging his tongue inside you in staggered tempo with your fingers in your cunt, and another orgasm is building just as swiftly as the first. The bite of his fingernails into the meat of your ass has you keening with overwhelm, so many parts of you being stimulated simultaneously, and it sends you crashing hard. Your clit beats wildly against the pads of your fingers, your cunt squeezing around your fingers, and your asshole contracting on Joel’s tongue as the rush of pleasure floods your body again. Joel’s moans vibrate against the delicate puckered skin, sending shockwaves pulsing through you as you attempt to come down.

Joel emerges from your other hole and bites kisses into the softness of your cheeks, sucking and dragging his tongue along the broken skin that nobody will see but him.

“Fuck,” you gasp, heart pounding in your chest and fingers still wound in his hair. You pull wet fingers from your pussy and brush them over his damp forehead, knowing full well that he doesn’t mind the mess.

“So fuckin’ good for me,” he rumbles against the back of your thigh, continuing a trail of kisses until he’s up your stomach, over your tits, and back at your mouth. And maybe you shouldn’t be kissing him when he just got done tongue-fucking your asshole, but you can’t bring yourself to give a shit when it comes to this man.

His hands glide up the backs of your thighs, reaffirming the spread of them as he tucks them into the hinges at the backs of your knees, his violently hard cock, newly freed of its confines, knocking and dragging at the tired seam of your cunt.

“You heard what daddy said about fucking your slit ‘til you cry?” Joel asks, snagging your bottom lip between his teeth and letting it fall back in place with a wet slap.

You gaze back up at him and nod with a whimper.

“That what you want me to do?”

You nod again. “Yes, please, daddy.”

“Alright then,” Joel says in a low rumble, taking his cock in his grip and lining himself up with your opening as he strokes your warm cheek with his other, “Then Father’s Day ain’t even close to finished yet. And seems like I got buncha shitty ones to make up for. So you better buckle in, my sweet little sugarplum. Daddy’s got a score to settle.”

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[januaryembrs]

SWEET AND RIGHT AND MERCIFUL | Spencer Reid x Sunshine!Reader

request: my DARLING @avis-writeshq says: OMGGGG EM CONGRATS ON 3K !!! soooo deserved and i’m so so happy for you!!! please may i request tea for sunshine!reader 🥹🩷 maybe the moment when she realises just how much she likes him (perhaps she was in heavy denial beforehand)? I LOVE YOU SO MUCH THANK YOUUUUU 🩷🩷🩷

description: The Sunshine rookie Spencer had heard so much about is the first one to make him laugh since he got out of prison.

length: 4.1k

warnings: Lucky Strikes episode, talks of humans eating humans, cm gore, blood, violence etc. UnSub gets creepy with reader. sex jokes, spitting water.

author's note: dedicated to @avis-writeshq because she is my GIRL when it comes to Spencer Reid x Sunshine brain rot, and also because she requested a Drabble for them but I couldn't stop writing and here we are with a full ficlet.

It had been three weeks, three painfully long weeks since Spencer Reid had returned to the BAU, nearly ten years since she’d seen him lecturing at Pennsylvania. He looked different, but then Emily had said quite literally on her second day that their endgame was getting him out of prison for a crime he didn’t commit, and it seemed only natural that being a fed in a foreign jail would knock someone around. 

She’d been too nervous to speak to him on their first day working together, had stuck to Luke’s side like glue because he was closest in age to her and he didn’t seem to mind the way she could speak a hundred miles per hour. They had only really had any contact when she was chatting with Garcia in the kitchenette at lunch, when she was talking to the tech whizz about the crochet set she’d bought even though she couldn’t seem to wrap her head around the way everything bobbed and weaved and bobbed again, and how the woman on youtube seemed to make the tiny bumblebee seem so achievable while hers looked like a yellow turd. 

He’d come up behind the two of them, his footsteps deadly silent despite the fact he had sneakers on, and she wouldn’t have even known he was there had Penelope not lit up with glee at seeing Reid poking around their office again. 

“Coffee, honey?” Penelope asked, looking over the girl’s shoulder, and it was only when he murmured a ‘mhm’ that the rookie noticed he’d crept up behind her, leaning over to grab his mug from the cupboard, and she hopped to the side immediately. 

“S-sorry, just shove me out the way next time, my mom says I have zero spacial awareness.” She said with a nervous laugh, and he didn’t seem to care as he granted her a small glance, pushing the button on the coffee machine and clunking his mug beneath the tap. 

“Have you met our newbie, Spence?” Penelope asked, friendly as ever even though the women caught the way his jaw seemed to feather with clenched muscle, like he was holding himself back from snapping, and his eyes were tired as he looked over at Garcia, barely flicking his gaze to the new face despite her prompt, “This is Y/N, she’s joined us from cold cases,” 

“Hi,” The woman chirped with a quick wave, despite the fact he was stood only a foot away from her, “It’s nice to meet you after everyone’s spoken so highly about you, Penny said you like invented the term genius,”

Spencer pursed his lips, trying not to make a backhanded comment about how dumb that sounded because of course he didn’t invent it, of course it was coined in the mid seventeenth century from the latin gignere to mean ‘exceptional natural ability’, and the last time he checked he wasn’t even born then. But he stopped himself, because she was just being nice, and it wasn’t her fault that he hadn’t been sleeping or that he couldn’t eat dinner without waiting to hear a buzzer go off to let him know when it was meal time, and it certainly wasn’t her fault that she was just a few decibels too loud with her cheerful tone and smile that he could hear in every syllable. 

So he just gave her an awkward smile, and an acknowledging nod, the whir of effort from the coffee machine slowing down as his drink finished pouring, and he grabbed his mug, not even caring that the ceramic scolded his fingertips because he’d felt so much worse before and gotten through it. 

“I’ll catch up with you later,” He said coldly, not returning the sentiment, and he’d turned before he could see the way her smile dropped, her brows creasing in worry as she watched him head back towards his desk.

“Did I say something wrong?” She asked with a small voice, and Penelope wrapped an arm around her shoulder giving her a kind squeeze and a sad smile. 

“It’s not you, sweetie, he’s just-” Garcia swallowed, her own pout growing over her red painted lips, “He’s not like the Reid we used to know, he’s struggling,” 

And so she nodded, chewing at the inside of her cheek with a frown. It felt silly to have her feelings hurt, except she’d been thinking about the day two agents from the BAU came to give her sociology class a talk on geographical and societal factors compelling crime, how she’d headed straight to her tutor that evening to swap her major to criminology. Because she’d hung on every word Agent Hotchner and Agent Reid had said, which definitely had nothing to do with the fact the younger of the two was so dreamy in his glasses and tweed jacket. 

She’d been excited to meet him again after nearly ten years, maybe even thank him for changing the trajectory of her entire life. He was still handsome, and despite the fact she’d grown up since then, had only thought about him as that hot guy who gave a lecture in her class that one time, she still had felt that silly fluttering feeling in her chest the second she saw him talking with Emily in her office the morning he got back. 

And he’d look at her like she was a girl scout selling cookies; a passing face, a summer temp, no one worth getting to know.

She pretended like she wasn’t the slightest bit disappointed, he’d been to prison for god sake. The guy had bigger problems than a little nobody girl from another department.

Things weren’t much better the day they got the case.

“You might want to cover your eyes for this bit, my little sugar plum,” Penelope said, looking at the rookie with soft eyes, and Emily smiled at her gently, knowing the girl had a bit of an innocent streak, not completely unlike Penny when she’d started the job. 

“Why? I’m sure it’s nothing-” She cut herself off when Penelope clicked onto the next page, and the image of a woman who could only be described as utterly butchered flicked onto the screen in full size, “Oh,” 

“Oh, indeed, rookie,” Rossi said with a wince, looking at the mulch of blood and muscle where her legs had been removed, and her fingers severed clean off as if with a carving knife. 

Luke looked up at the girl, where she’d gone a little peaky, and he patted her back gently, sliding his bottle of water over to her without a word. 

“All the telltale signs are here,” JJ said on a sighed breath, images of the rest of the crime scene flicking up on the screen.

“Pentagram, legs and fingers gone,” Rossi agreed, Luke and Matt looking between the team with a questioning glance, as she downed a sip of the water. 

“There’s even one neat aspect right here,” Emily said, the tip of her finger pointing to one of the pictures of the floor outside the bathroom stall where the body was found, “Her earrings and jewellery are laid out equidistant on the floor,”

“Sure as hell looks like him,” Rossi said, and she cleared her throat, looking to the older man on her left. 

“Like who?” She asked, her eyes snapping to Spencer who opened his mouth to speak, which seemed to be the only time he ever did bother making conversation; when there was a body on their hands.

“Floyd Feylnn Ferrell,” He said, as if the original case had only been wrapped up last week, but then with his memory she wasn’t exactly surprised, “A psychotic cannibal who’d been killing under the radar for years,”

“He killed ten prostitutes and then moved up to low risk victims,” Prentiss added, the rookie’s eyes wide. It wasn’t anything she’d never heard of, but it never made it easier knowing something even worse was coming after the murders. 

“He kept slipping through the cracks and avoiding justice so people referred to him as ‘Lucky’” JJ said, her eyes darting over the crime scene photos that seemed to take her back ten years to when they’d seen almost an identical set of photos, like Hotch was about to call ‘Wheels up in twenty’ any minute now.

Rossi sighed, looking at the younger girl who watched him wide eyed, “Have you eaten today, rookie?”

She shook her head dumbly, “Why?”

“Because the worst of it was he owned a barbeque joint,” Her face dropped even more, if that was even possible, “And he fed one of the victims to the search party,”

Her hand flew to her mouth, blinking at the seasoned agent in terror, because that was something she hadn’t ever thought would enter someone’s mind until she heard it. As simple as it sounded, for someone who had seen cases going back twenty, thirty years, some particularly heinous in nature, there were new lengths she didn’t realise a human could ever go to, let alone would.

Penelope stopped, shutting her laptop lid and glancing at JJ in a plea for help, as the thought of what had happened after the Ferrell case rushed to the front of her mind, when the guy she’d thought wanted to take her out on a date shot her. 

“I have a computer…” The blonde trailed off, heading for the door to the office room with a dazed look in her eyes, and the rookie watched her leave, her neck and palms clammy as she thought about what Rossi had just said. 

“I think I have a computer too-” She rushed, and she bolted from her seat before she could think of anything else, dashing after the technical analyst because she feared she was going to throw up if she didn’t get a breath of fresh air. 

Spencer watched her hair swish as she scurried out the room, and he wondered how long she would last if she couldn’t stomach just a few photos. He had struggled with the gore at first, sure, but he’d never ran. Maybe he was being cruel, but he couldn’t say that a girl like her exactly fit the part of an FBI agent, she seemed… pure, like driven snow, and if anything he’d hate for the bloodied parts of their job to stain a girl so squeaky clean.

Emily nudged his shoulder, nodding towards her retreating figure when he looked up at her questioningly, “You keep an eye on her in this case. She’s still learning,” 

And Spencer grit his teeth, because he hated the idea of babysitting when he had a dozen of his own problems, but he nodded indignantly. 

He just hoped she didn’t make things too hard for him. 

–

The door swung open behind Ferrell, the UnSub’s sister, the midday Florida heat boring down on her back, Spencer bristling at her right as Luke pocketed his badge. 

And then there he was. The guy from the photo, his thick, wiry glasses exact matches to the ones he’d been wearing the day he got caught, though she supposed a mental facility didn’t exactly have funds for replacements. 

“It’s no problem, Lori, I’ll speak with them,” His voice was a strong southern twang, and almost chillingly calm. His sister looked over her shoulder at him, the woman fretful as she glanced between the four agents, ten years of troubles on her shoulders. She sighed, running a hand over her neck nervously and headed back inside to be with her son, leaving them alone with their suspect on the doorstep, “You’ll have to wait, I’m on my way to church. It’s right around the corner so I’m within the thousand permitted yards from the monitoring station,”

He quickly glanced at where Matt and Luke stood behind her, the former with his arms crossed over his chest as he eyed up the thin, twiggly guy who looked like the type to live in his mother’s basement until he died, not the type to cannibalise and murder. 

His eyes darted over to where Reid towered over him, familiarity flicking in his face as he looked at the agent, and he smiled slowly, like something out of a horror, the uncanny valley of a face so normal when she knew he was so sick somewhat terrifying to her. He fed one of the victims to the search party. She heard it rattling around her skull as she saw the whites of his teeth, and she imagined him ripping into her then and there, her hands shaking.  

“Hey, I remember you. Where’s your friend, Agent Morgan?” Floyd said, and she felt Spencer tense up beside her, which she guessed meant it was a sore subject as she jumped into the conversation, her lips moving before she could think better of it. She’d always had a habit of talking too much when she was nervous, or to fill gaps, or when she could tell someone was uncomfortable, she’d always been told it was one of her more irksome traits. 

“You wouldn’t mind if we took a look around, would you? Just while you’re gone?” She asked politely yet, for once, she regretted ever opening her mouth the second he turned his attention on her.

She felt something cold and dreadful run down her spine as he looked straight at her, his sepia eyes trailing down over her neck, running over her body and down to her hands that fidgeted at her sides.

They waited on baited breath, her stomach flipping with sickness as that manic smile drew even wider, trained solely on her, a thought privy only to himself somewhat amusing to him. She felt herself lean away without even meaning to, incidentally feeling Spencer’s arm bump into hers as she did, and the three men seemed to tense up as they watched Ferrell smell the air, savouring every second of it, his eyes blown wide with something unreadable. Lustful yet starved, like he was on a four day fast standing next to an open roast. 

“You’re awful pretty for an agent,” Floyd said, that drawling accent of his turning her stomach, and his eyes trailed down over her calves, and she cursed herself for wearing a midi skirt. But she hated jeans on her thighs, hated the way Florida air clung humidly to her skin when she didn’t let it breathe, but she thought she might just hate the way his mouth filled with saliva more, “Do you like running, agent?”

“Sometimes,” She whispered, shrinking in on herself even more as he took a step out of the home. 

And Spencer felt his chest drop at the sound of it. She sounded petrified. But then, he would be too if someone his size looked at him like he was a five-course banquet. And he regretted ever thinking of her as babysitting, as defective, because she was clearly trying her best, and this was where it had gotten her. Right on the UnSub’s menu.

“I bet you do a lot of running, chasing after bad guys, huh?” Floyd pushed, leering towards her with another smell of her perfume, and she could have sworn his smile only widened into something cheshire cat-esque. She nodded with a worried gulp, her breath picking up when his hand began moving up to where a rogue stray hair fell out of her bun, running over her collar bone, her heart beating so wild and heavy beneath it. 

And it was enough for Spencer to act, because within the blink of an eye, he’d side stepped in front of the rookie who seemed frozen in her spot, and Floyd’s arm was shoved away where it hit Spencer’s bicep. Ferrell was forced to stop looking over her clammy skin with heavy swallows like he was imagining just how she would cut and marinate, and instead was confronted with a frown that could send any man scarpering, Spencer’s lips pressed into something furious, his shoulders seeming only more broad than they usually did when he purposely blocked Ferrell’s view from her. 

“You’d better get going, Floyd,” Spencer said, his voice a deadly sort of calm, and his arm stuck out behind him to keep her where she was as he spoke, “You’re going to be late for church,” 

And Floyd listened, despite his smarmy smile as he dared a look at her when he passed by, despite the fact his eyes trailed back down to her jugular like he was ready to sever it there and then to string her up and cure. 

Spencer’s hand fished around his pocket, glaring at the back of Floyd’s head as he strolled down the street, tossing the keys to Alvez, “Take her back to the car, don’t let her out of your sight,” 

And the two of them listened while he and Matt swept the house, because anyone would be insane not to when Spencer looked so angry he could have put a hole through Ferrell’s head without blinking an eye.

–

“Eating people, who eats people, what on earth is that all about,” She muttered, the four of them in the SUV heading back to the station. She sat at the front with Spencer where he drove because Luke and Matt were gentlemen and had offered her the extra leg room, and Spencer had zero qualms because he was under strict instruction to keep an eye on her. 

She did that alot, he realised. Muttered when she was thinking about something. Where he went deadly silent when troubled, too focused on sorting through the mental files that seemed to be so resistant to organise these days, she was his entire opposite, always talking or humming a tune under her breath or playing an invisible set of piano notes on her knee, something to always keep the space filled. 

He’d hated it the first few days, the sound like a blaring alarm coming from over by her desk, cutting through his limited attention span, grating on his nerves and making him have to bite his tongue to stop himself from yelling at her to shut the fuck up. But then, it wasn’t exactly personal to her, even the sound of the coffee machine had been enough to pull at his hair in frustration. At twelve years old, it spluttered and whirred and kicked back at every drink it made, every second of it winding Spencer’s patience up like a jack in the box.

But he found himself listening in on her mumbles, glancing over at how her frown screwed up her doe eyes, her lip pulling between her teeth whenever there was a tiny pause in between her words, before she started again. He’d quickly realised it was the easiest cheat in the book to know when something was bothering her, that she was so much of an open book, not at all cold and guarded like him or so many other profilers he knew, that he wouldn’t need to bother deducing her like she was his next UnSub to know what was wrong. She would just tell him as it was, wear everything vulnerable on her face. 

“Something the matter?” He pressed, Luke also keeping a close watch on her from the back seat as she shook her head to herself, and her head snapped over to the driver’s side, her expression entirely caught even though she’d not exactly been subtle about her turmoil.

“M-me? “ She pointed to herself, and Spencer nodded, trying not to smile because sometimes she could be clueless, not the dumb kind but something sweet, naive, and he found himself somewhat jealous that she didn’t need to be the smartest person in the room to be worth something, she could just be herself, “Yeah, I guess I just,” She huffed, running her hands over her skirt, “I don’t get why anyone would want to eat someone else, it just-” She shivered, not in a theatrical or fake way but like a ghost had walked over her grave just thinking about Floyd smelling at her. 

“Some cultures used to cannibalise other members of their society as funerary practices as early as twenty-four thousand years ago,” Spencer said, and she stopped fidgeting to listen to him, “There’s evidence that the Magdelanians in North Europe used to turn their dead’s skulls into cups they would then drink out of,”

“That I can understand, those guys were probably starving and it’s not like they can just chow down on a damn sabertooth as an easy lunch or something,” She said, and he bit his lip from stopping her to explain that the two of them were about four thousand years apart from one another, “But like, when there’s a burger king or taco bell on every corner, why are you eating women. Who eats women for breakfast lunch and dinner, like raise your hands which one of you would ever eat a woman,” 

Luke sniggered, and Matt smirked at the innuendo of it, the double meaning of her words flying entirely over her head.

“I dunno, Alvez, do you like eating women?” Simmons asked, a smug grin in his words as the boys cackled childishly, and Spencer rolled his eyes with amusement. 

“Pretty partial to it actually,” Luke chimed in, and she whirled in her seat to look behind her of scepticism, “How about you, Reid?”

“You guys are so weird,” She murmured, and Spencer took a quick glance off the road to see her looking entirely baffled, her feathers ruffled at the fact she was left out of the joke. 

“They’re talking about oral sex,” He explained, because he remembered when that had been him for the longest time, and how it had made him feel like the butt of every punchline to not understand why everyone would smile at him knowingly, yet he found himself doing the exact same to her, his lips twitching at their corners.

Spencer watched her scoff, looking back at the two grown children in the back, “I take it back, you guys aren’t weird, your gross. Why can’t you be mature like Spencer?” She huffed, sitting back in her seat and fixing her skirt, “See if you were grownups like Agent Reid and I, you’d know the term isn’t eating a woman, it’s called focalratio,” 

Matt pulled a face of confusion, flicking his eyes to her, “Isn’t that to do with a camera lens?” 

“Do you mean fellatio?” Spencer asked, trying his hardest not to smirk because he didn’t want to make her feel stupid, except she just waved a hand at him.

“That’s what I said. I see why they call you Doctor Read and not Doctor Listen,” She giggled at her own words, watching the trees go by her passenger window, almost entirely oblivious to the way Spencer’s face cracked into a grin, something easy and charmed in his chest. 

And for a moment, he saw exactly what Penelope had been talking about when she wouldn’t stop talking about how likeable she was and how it was harder to hate her than it was to love her. 

Luke took a sip of his water, the bottle nearing the end as the Florida sun warmed it up, and he figured he might as well finish it before it became stagnant and undrinkable. 

“Actually the term fellatio describes only male genitalia, the female equivalent would be cunnilingus-” Spencer explained, and he knew she was listening because he felt her eyes on the side of his face as he spoke, except he was cut off by the sound of her screaming so loud he nearly slammed on the breaks then and there. 

“LUKE!” She yelled, and when Spencer looked, she had water dripping down the back of her hair, soaking her shirt to her skin, her black bra straps suddenly clear as day as they pressed against her dove white top. Alvez looked mortified, and he found himself apologising between coughs, water dribbling down his chin where he’d been so shocked to hear that word coming from Spencer’s mouth that he’d completely forgone swallowing and simply spat the whole thing out right through the gap between the headrest and the seat. 

And Spencer laughed; it was quiet and foreign and nothing on the roaring cacophony coming from Matt in the back, as her and Luke descended into a squabble, her proclaiming him as a disgusting alpaca man as she tried to dry herself off with his jacket. But she caught it, the small chuckle coming from her left, and she looked at him, the sodden shirt almost forgotten when she saw him laugh. 

She thought then that she wanted to make him laugh like that a million more times. And she knew she had it bad for Spencer Reid all over again.

[luveline]

—you meet Spencer again after losing out on the BAU job. he comforts you while you do your best not to flirt. bombshell!reader, 0.9k

You lose out on the BAU job to Elle Greenaway. It drives you crazy.

You work just as hard as Elle does, you’re professional no matter what Jason Gideon has to say about you, and you know you could do it. You have just as many successes as Elle does.

It makes you feel sick. You tried so, so hard.

I’m sorry, Hotch had said, and at least you’d had his support. He was kind enough to tell you in person. I can’t make the decision without Gideon, and if he thinks you aren’t right for it right now, we’ll have to wait.

Wait. As though Jason Gideon was ever going to change his mind about you.

You open your purse and take out the barrel of your sheer lipstick. Your compact is next. You hold the mirror up and angle your face in the sun, popping the lid off of the lipstick, and pressing its flat end to your bottom lip. The line you draw is perfectly precise. Your hand barely trembles.

You drop the mirror down and rub your lips together slowly. No matter what falls out of your control, you can present yourself to your liking. You can be immaculate. You—

“Hi.”

You look up from your rumination, startled. You’d been thinking so hard someone actually got the run up on you.

“Hi,” you say, tilting your head gently toward your shoulder.

Dr. Spencer Reid stands a polite three feet away from you. He’s suddenly changed. The last time you met him he was wearing his long hair in a side part. Now it’s split down the middle, just a touch shorter at the sides, and he’s wearing glasses.

(He’s wearing glasses!)

You’d thought he was pretty before.

“Are you okay?”

“I’m good,” you say, tempted to call him baby, maybe sweetheart. He’s a sweet looking boy. His sweater vest makes you wanna hold his hand. “Thank you for asking. Why are you asking?”

You talk to him with no derision nor malice, just curiosity.

He frowns. It gives his eyes a sad shine. “I know you wanted the open position. You would’ve been great at it.”

“You think so?” you ask, surprised.

“I’ve seen some of your write ups. We’ve used your summaries in one of our profiles, do you… remember that?”

You send Hotch anything he wants to see.

“I don’t know why Gideon doesn’t like you… He’s so rarely wrong about people, but you’re…” He licks his lips nervously. “You’re– you’re smart. You’re inquisitive. I think you would be an asset to the team, and it’s a shame you didn’t get your chance.”

You’re making him nervous and it isn’t your intention. You put your hands in your lap and stop giving him the look, swapping your amicable smile for a proper friendly one. “Thank you. Is it okay if I call you Spencer? Dr. Spencer Reid is a lot to say at once.”

He laughs, still nervous. “Yeah. Yeah, of course.”

“Spencer, thank you for caring so much, but I’m okay. I think I might still have a chance one day, but with Elle gone, the sex crimes division is going to need me.” You lift your chin. If he’s sought you out to tell you he’s sorry, your premonitions about him when you met a few weeks ago were correct. He’s as kind as he is pretty. “I love your glasses. Are they for reading?”

“I always wore glasses when I was a kid, and then I started working here, and I thought it might make me seem less… childish, if I wore contacts, but they’re the worst.”

You laugh happily. He says it in such a pained voice. “The glasses suit you so much,” you say, shoving your things into your bag and standing. “Did you wanna go for coffee? I need a pick me up before I go back to the office.”

Spencer touches his wrist. “Are you serious?”

“Why wouldn’t I be serious?” you ask, again, without a drop of malice. You’re not stupid, Spencer has all the nervousness of someone who’s been mistreated before, and heartily, and it’s easy to be soft with him not solely because of it, but because he seems so sweet. You could happily be his friend. “Do you like coffee? We could get those hot donuts from the cafeteria, have you tried those?”

You close the little gap between you both and raise your hand carefully to his face. Gentle, you try to pull a stray hair from the hinge of his glasses leg without snapping it.

“You can tell me all the stuff I’m doing wrong.”

“You’re not doing anything wrong,” Spencer says.

“Come on, there has to be something.”

His mouth gives him away. “It’s not that you’re doing it wrong, you’re just– you– you’re not looking at things the…�� Your fingertip brushes his cheek as you drop your hand. “…Right way, sometimes.”

“I wanted your recommendations.” You bump his elbow with yours. “I’ll buy you a coffee and you can write me a list. Cool?”

He cleared his throat. “Yes. Cool.”

You’re thinking it’ll be the start of a good friendship. You and Dr. Reid make quite a pair.

[saetoru]

✩ ‧₊˚ ✩。what if you’re someone i just want around (i’m falling again)

synopsis. somewhere along the line, you started to hate suguru—that doesn’t mean you stopped loving him too

— word count. 9.5k (i am in misery)

— contents. post canon! au — fix it! (we all need a good fix it fic with suguru don't lie), this fic was started before recent manga chapters so the higher ups are still alive—just go with it ok :,), geto survives + lives free of kenjaku, exes to lovers, kind of redemption i suppose, mentions of blood, injuries, and weight loss (geto), mentions of canon character deaths (nanako, mimiko, nanami), mentions of wanting to raise children with geto and have a family, no gendered terms but reader has a personality and actual thoughts and feelings, references to the hunger games (you have movie night lol), BFF satoru (he is babie), there is a kiss y’all !! (scandalous i know :O)

— notes. i started this fic back in march and i had trouble with it and put it on pause for a while. i’m very glad i finished it in the end. i always like fix it! fics and this is self-indulgent and idk if ppl will read it bc it’s sfw but it’s ok if they don’t, i loved writing it. thank you koi for beta-reading this whole bad boy. mwah <333

the day suguru is declared a free man is actually the day he signs away his freedom for good. 

you say nothing, but you know it’s the truth. satoru fights tooth and nail to plead suguru’s case—you think it’s perhaps a little too desperate for it to be in the best interest of suguru and not himself. but satoru has suffered enough, and admittedly—although you deny it—a small part of you does not want to lose suguru twice. you watch as satoru argues that suguru has already died once—surely he can’t die again? and losing control of his body and mind is paying for his crimes enough, is it not? he argues that there are no ideals left for a man like geto suguru to chase after losing himself to every principle he had left. 

and then satoru wins. 

you expect it, but it doesn’t make it any easier. you watch numbly as suguru is assigned under your watch. you should be happy. you love suguru—you never stopped. but it doesn’t change the fact that he’s not a free man, and now he drags your freedom with his. you’ll never break away from him, never cut through the ropes that tie your hands behind your back and bind you to him—and then you wonder for a moment, unsure if it’s selfish or selfless or some cruel in-between to think this way, if geto suguru was better off dead. 

whether that’s for your sake, or his, you’re not sure. 

and yes, he’s let off alive, and sure, there’s no real punishment for all he’s done, but you know deep down he’s as chained and shackled as he’s ever been. he’s not allowed to leave the house unless you or satoru are there to chaperone, and it’s never to be anywhere near non-sorcerers. he’s not to live in a place of his own until the higher up’s deem him trustworthy. he has to ask you to buy the things he wants from the grocery store. he can’t even step outside for a smoke unless you’re aware. 

for a long time, he doesn’t speak much—can hardly muster a barely audible mornin’ back when you force a smile and greet him cheerily for breakfast. slowly, it turns into half-snarky conversations that get cut short by one of you leaving the room. finally, you’re civil—maybe even friendly. you’re not so sure where you stand with him as of now.

it’s not the same suguru you remember falling in love with, it’s not even close to the version of the man you fell for all those years ago. it’s hard having him here—some days you’re angry and want to throw him out, to scream at him for haunting you again just when you think you’ve moved on from the horrors of your past. some days you want to cry and cling to him, bury your face into his neck and thank him for being here again, for finding his way back to you. and some days you wish you never met him at all, that this would all be easier if it didn’t exist in the first place. 

he’s not the same geto suguru you loved, but somehow, because life is as bitter as it is ruthless, you fall in love with this version just as hard no matter how much you deny it. 

“i made your favorite,” you smile gently, placing a neat plate of french toast with freshly cut strawberries on the side. you even take great care to get the syrup-to-powdered sugar ratio he likes right, but he doesn’t make a move to reach for the plate. instead, suguru sits at the table stiffly, like he has to be here or there are consequences for that too. it almost makes you sad—even here, he’s not free. 

“thanks,” he says quietly, “but i’m not hungry.”

“you said that last night, suguru,” you sigh, “and at lunch. and at breakfast. and at dinner the night before—”

“i’ll eat it later,” he cuts you off, playing with the ends of his hair. 

it’s a lot shorter now. it’s you who finds his body battered and bruised after the smoke clears. he’s almost unrecognizable, not the same charming and perfect suguru you’re used to seeing. not the same silkened strands and smooth skin, not the same muscled and toned body, not the same chiseled jaw and soft cheeks. instead, he’s a shell of himself. his hair is matted in knots, his body is almost frail, and you notice the sunken hollows of his cheeks and dark undereyes as you lift him from the rubble a little too easily. but his body is his own—that much you can tell from the way the stitches have disappeared. 

it takes shoko a long time to nurse him back to health—it takes even longer for him to open his eyes.

you waited day and night by his side, hand over his as he breathed slowly, unconscious and unsuspecting. it would be so easy, you think one night, it would be so easy to kill him and forget and move on. 

you’ve already grieved him once before. you’ve felt and conquered the pain of loving geto suguru and losing him first to himself and then to death. but love is as selfish as it is selfless, and it’s under your mercy that you let him live—yet it’s under your cowardice that you keep him close. 

“you have to gain back the weight you lost, suguru,” you sigh, “you’re w—”

“weak?” he finishes for you, eyeing you for a second and then grinning. it’s unsettling, a grin that makes your skin crawl and your heart stop for a moment before he’s reaching for the fork and stabbing into his toast. “is that what you wanted to say? that i’m weak?”

“suguru, you know that’s not how i meant—”

“you’re not wrong,” he hums, chewing on the first bite as he speaks, “i suppose i am pretty weak right now, huh? couldn’t even kill you in your sleep if i tried could i?”

your throat is dry as you shrug, “i suppose not,” you whisper. 

“ah,” he grins again, “but that doesn’t stop you from locking your door every night, does it?” 

suguru is still healing. his body is weak, and sometimes, he leans against the wall as he walks. his arm is healed—you’re not entirely sure how, but you catch him rolling the shoulder out every now and then like it’s sore and stiff. he’s lost a lot of weight—part of it is from being bedridden for as long as he was, injured and half alive, and part of it is from barely eating—save for the few bites you force into him. you never thought there’d be a day when you could say this—but the odds of you beating suguru in hand-to-hand combat are high, and the reality is an everlasting reminder that he is not who you fell for. 

you swallow, letting out a shaky breath as he watches you closely, diligently cutting another bite from the french toast sitting on his plate as he stares you down like he can see past your soul. you don’t know what’s scarier—that suguru can still practically see yours, or that you’re unsure he even has one anymore. 

“you tried coming in?” you ask, unsure what else to say. he merely shrugs, takes another bite, and sets his fork down. 

“thought i’d check on you,” he pops a strawberry half into his mouth as he speaks.

“is that what it really was?” you raise a brow, “or was i right to lock the door?”

you’re not sure why you lock the door at night. maybe it’s because you don’t trust him, or maybe it’s because you don’t want him near you just yet. you’re not sure. you’re not sure how satoru can go back to his cheery self, how he can step through your door and boom a loud yo, suguru! before settling beside suguru on the couch with his feet on the coffee table as he rambles away. maybe it’s not real—maybe it’s satoru desperately pretending that if he tries hard enough, things can go back to how they were. 

but you don’t know how he still has the energy to try, and you don’t know if you have it in you to try anymore yourself. 

you and suguru stare each other down like that for a bit, the tension rising with every silent second that passes. you’re sure he doesn’t want to be here as much as you don’t want him around—but you’re also sure he’s glad it’s here with you as much as you’re glad it’s with no one else.

“you tell me,” he smirks after a bit, the hint of amusement making your fists clench. how dare he have the audacity to look at you like that in your own home? like he has the upper hand over you without trying? “what do you think i was there for?”

“i think you should stay in your room, suguru,” you say carefully, “i bought a new bed just for that room.”

“how sweet of you,” he hums. he sips the tea before him—it’s cold by now, but it’s just how he likes it, rose with one sugar. “you must have been excited to have me.”

“hardly,” you mumble bitterly—you can’t help it. you want him to feel hurt, even just a little. you want him to know that just because he’s back, it doesn’t mean you’ve waited all this time for him to be. liar, a part of you says, you’ve always waited for him, haven’t you? but suguru doesn’t seem phased—he doesn’t even blink.

“then tell me, why am i here?” suguru asks, his tone is as casual as ever. 

i wish i knew, you want to say. i wish i knew but i don’t.

“because satoru asked you to be,” is all you can say.

he nods, pushing back his plate and standing up, offering you that same grin. “you’re right,” he hums, “that’s exactly why i’m here.”

it hits you why his smile is so unsettling once he leaves—it’s almost genuine, like he’s still loved you all this time. impossible, you tell yourself. suguru stopped loving you a long time ago. and you need to stop trying to figure out why. 

————————————————

even despite telling yourself you don’t care what suguru thinks, a small part of you needs to prove to him you’re not scared of him. that you don’t fear for your own safety in your home, and that him being here is not some form of him haunting you. you don’t care. he shouldn’t get the luxury of thinking you care. he can come in and watch you sleep like the creep he is if he wants—you couldn’t bother to give it a second thought. 

the first night you take a chance and leave the door unlocked, suguru slips into bed beside you. it wakes you up instantly, and before you can question it, his head tucks into your neck, and his hand grasps your shirt tightly. you notice the panting almost instantly—and then you realize, it must be a nightmare. 

you fall into old habits, even after all these years, defaulting to care for him like it’s second nature. 

“you’re safe, suguru,” is what you settle for saying after a moment of contemplation. it’s all you can really think to say, so you brush your lips over the top of his head as you murmur, “you’re safe,” over and over again. 

as difficult as it is to have suguru around, as painful and cruel and aggravating as it is to be reminded of his distant existence even as he’s two doors down, this part feels natural. it’s almost like you’re back in jujutsu high, waking up to him sneaking into your room as he presses his weight over your body and wakes you with soft kisses along your face. 

except this time, he’s not annoyingly demanding cuddles or telling you about his weird dream, he’s not stealing your blanket and demanding you play with his hair. this time, it’s not the same suguru—and this time, it’s not jujutsu high. 

it’s your room. the one you got on the other side of town to leave the sorcery world behind, somehow still stuck right in the center of it no matter where you go. and yet, just like all those years ago, your legs tangle, and your arms wrap him up, and you murmur, “you’re safe,” while he catches his breath. 

“but they’re not,” he mutters in between labored pants, making you pause. 

and then you remember. 

faintly, you recall the blonde and black hair from a distance, you remember bitterly wondering what’d it be like watching suguru fathering children of your own as you came to the reality that it would never happen. sometimes, you wonder if you hate nanako and mimiko for existing, for living as the dreams you never got to live through with suguru. 

it’s selfish—to hate two children because they are what you do not have. 

but then you feel something wet hit your neck, and then you wish they were okay—for his sake. and just for a moment, you’re selfless again. 

“they’re not safe,” he mutters, making you sigh. 

“they are,” you whisper, hesitating for a moment before letting your fingers slip into his hair. you scratch gently at his scalp, feeling his body melt into yours almost instantly—like it’s a response that’s natural to him. “they’re not suffering. not anymore.”

“is that supposed to make me feel better?” he scoffs. you shrug, letting your cheek press against the top of his head as you sigh.

“it helps me feel better,” you say softly, “‘s just how you learn to cope.”

it’s an understanding you both silently come to. loss on both sides. bloodshed on either ground. defeat no matter which ideal you take. to love is to bear the pain of mortality—it’s a lesson that you never cease to learn until the ends of time itself. 

“the jujutsu world is one of suffering,” he grits, sniffling into your neck. you hum, pressing a kiss to his head as your eyes close. 

“every world is one of suffering, suguru, you can’t erase them all. the sooner you realize that, the easier you’ll find peace.”

you fall into a slumber after that, faintly aware of the way he shuffles closer to you, faintly aware of the soft kiss pressed to your skin as sleep takes over your body and drifts you out of consciousness. 

when you wake up the next morning, suguru is gone, and the door is closed. the blanket is tucked up to your chin, and your neck still tingles from last night. 

————————————————

“get up,” you throw a pillow at suguru, waking him up with a start as he sits up. his hair is tousled and messy from sleep—it’s now long enough that he can put it in a bun without strands slipping from the bottom anymore. you chuckle as he glares at you, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes as he groans. 

“the fuck was that for?” he grunts, holding the blanket up to cover his exposed chest. 

it’s funny that he does that, in a way. it’s not as though you haven’t seen his chest…and then some too. it’s not like you haven’t torn his shirt off to stanch the flow of blood from his injuries before or feel the bare skin with your palm under the pale moonlight as the lingering scent of sex breezes through the room. 

but somehow, even though he doesn’t need to cover his chest around you of all people, you’re glad that he does. truthfully, it keeps you slightly comforted to know that he’s aware you’re still technically strangers—no matter how well-versed you are in each other’s pasts. but you don’t ponder on it too much. instead, you grin, shoving aside the visual of the small glance you caught at his pecs, and you clap your hands to motion him to hurry. 

“we are going grocery shopping,” you say casually—as though it’s not something to make him raise a brow in shock.

“me?” he points a finger at himself. you roll your eyes, and he challenges you with another raise of his brow. “aren’t i supposed to stay away from civilians?”

“yes, you,” you nod, pointing back at him, “and satoru has worked overtime to get you granted permission to roam around with me. he says you’re welcome, by the way.”

“tell him to go fuck off.”

“that’s ungrateful,” you say flatly, “his feelings will be hurt.”

“his feelings will find a way to cope,” suguru huffs. “i don’t want to be around…them,” he says bitterly. 

you suppose it’s wishful thinking to hope suguru has let go of his past beliefs. perhaps he’s long abandoned the possibility of the vision he once planned on bringing to life, but you can’t say you expected him to revert back to the old suguru who fought alongside you and satoru. you yourself certainly have no intention of returning to the sorcery world after all the events, so you can’t say you’re shocked by the lack of change he seems to show. but then again, you suppose suguru has changed. whether he sees it or not. 

he stays here and doesn’t put up a fight to leave even though he can now that he’s healed. he eats lunch when you tell him and even washes the dishes. sometimes, when you come home a bit late, dinner is even ready on the table as he sits and stares at you expectantly. his plate is empty like yours—like he’s been waiting for you even though he doesn’t need to. you suppose you can see he’s changed in the way he doesn’t scoff at the tv channels you surf through, he silently sits on the opposite end of the couch now and watches with you, and perhaps if you’re lucky, you’ll hear a light chuckle or a quiet sigh as the scenes roll on the screen. 

you suppose this suguru is a step closer to your suguru every day he spends with you, but you don’t know if any suguru is what you need right now. perhaps that name should’ve been buried away as a distant memory, perhaps it should’ve only been something you unlock once every year on his death anniversary—when satoru clambers through your door drunk and unsteady as he clutches the hand that killed his best friend, only to share pancakes with you in the morning and pretend like you don’t notice the dried tears on his cheeks while he acts like he doesn’t catch the way your hand shakes as you cut into your breakfast. 

but suguru is here now. whether it’s as geto, one half of the strongest duo in jujutsu high, whether it’s as suguru, the love of your life and the sole reason you exist, or whether it’s as geto suguru, the curse user and mass murderer who haunts your past, present, and everything in between. 

so you simply sigh, grab the pillow again, and hit the top of his head before walking over to the door as you call over your shoulder, “i’m gonna wait for you by the door in fifteen minutes. be ready or face the consequences..”

“no thanks. don’t wanna,” suguru grumbles petulantly, frowning at you as you stick your tongue at him, smirking as if you’ve just played your ace. 

“too bad,” you sing before swinging the door shut.

he’s at the door in exactly fifteen minutes, like he waited until the last possible second to join you as a move of spite. but you simply gesture him out the door and lock up, taking your sweet time as he stands there with an annoyed face. you stare at the doorknob once you’re done, taking a deep breath before turning to him with your best smile. 

“let’s go,” you hum.

“after you,” he mutters.

—

he grimaces as soon as he sees the people going about their business, clearly unhappy with the idea of being around non-sorcerers, but one sharp glare from you has him sighing and trekking along. the grocery store, admittedly, is not as bad as suguru thinks—in fact, there are lots of things he doesn’t realize he misses until he watches you grab a shopping cart. 

suddenly, he sees shadows. the silhouette of your figure climbing into the cart, the angry wave of satoru’s hands as he claims it's his turn to be pushed around, the figure of shoko pinching the bridge of her nose in irritation from the back—and then, he sees the dark shadow of baggy pants and a small bun. it’s him. suguru watches himself almost in slow motion through the remnants of his imagination as he gently shoves satoru out of the way and reaches to poke the tip of your nose before he pushes the cart with you in it.  

it’s a happy memory—and it’s gone all too soon.

as soon as he blinks, the shadows have disappeared—instead, it’s you waving a hand in his face, concern written on your features as you call his name. 

“suguru? hey, hello? are you with me?”

he exhales, pulled from his trance as he gently grabs your wrist from in front of his face and sets it down as he nods, “yeah, i’m fine. just thinking,” he mumbles. 

for a second, you hesitate, like you almost mean to say something. but in the end, you only nod before turning to grab the shopping cart. but he stops you—grabs the handle and turns to you with a small smile on his face, making you raise a brow as he gently moves you away. 

“what are you—”

“get in,” he grins, making you stare at him in bewilderment. 

“what?”

“just get in,” he sighs, “you love it when you get to sit in the cart.”

“i’m not a teenager anymore—”

“get in, will you?” he groans, “always so damn difficult.”

“hey,” you pout, glaring at him with your hands planted at your hips, “that’s rude.” it’s cute. suguru stares at you with amusement in his eyes and a soft look on his face that you don’t think you’ve really seen in years. 

“humor me,” he hums, “just get in, okay?”

so you do. 

with a huff and a grumble under your breath, you fight back a smile and climb into the damn cart just like old times. you swallow and try not to let it get to you when he reaches over and pokes the tip of your nose and pushes the cart around, letting you name off the things you need from your list while he grabs them. and when he sneaks snacks into the pile, you roll your eyes and glare at him in the way you always did—the one that isn’t actually annoyed. fond. happy to let it slide because it’s him.

“we need candy,” you murmur, “that’s the last thing on the list.”

“okay. what kind?” he asks, turning the cart into the candy aisle and smiling softly down at you.

“doesn’t matter, satoru eats anything as long as it’s sweet. he’s more likely to die from sugar than fighting a curse, i think.”

“you buy candy for satoru?” he asks, making you shrug as you reach over and grab a few bags of candy off the shelves, setting them down beside you. 

“he comes over a lot so i learned to keep stuff stocked up for him. you know how he gets when he’s hungry.”

suguru feels something he hasn’t felt since he was a teenager. jealousy—specifically of satoru. 

suguru is not foolish. he knows as soon as he meets gojo satoru that of the two, one of them is stronger and it’s definitely not himself. for the longest time, he’s okay with that, okay being the strongest only when alongside satoru—until he’s not. and even if suguru always had a bit more attention in the romance department than satoru, in his head he’s always known that perhaps satoru can keep you safer, more well off, maybe even happier. with smooth smiles and eyes as welcoming as an oasis, gojo satoru would never leave you in the dark pit of misery as suguru once had. 

something about the thought of you and satoru keeping each other company through the lonely years, filling that empty spot suguru left behind, sharing moments over candy and empty wrappers makes suguru wonder for a moment if perhaps he’d be happier if he stayed. maybe he could have worn a heartfelt smile in a world that carves them off the faces of sorcerers with bloody knives as long as you were there to wipe the blood.  

but before he can dwell on it, you snatch one more bag—this time of his favorite candy, placing it into the cart and grinning gently up at him. 

“i haven’t bought this one in years,” you admit, “i almost forget how it tastes.”

“me too,” he says quietly.

“well,” you hum, “we’ll have to have some when we’re home.”

home. you say it as though it belongs to him as much as it does you, and then like you always have, without even meaning to, you wash away the dark stains of his jealousy with no trace left behind.

“yeah,” he chuckles, “we—”

“daddy, look! candy!” suguru is cut off by the gentle pitter-patter of two tiny feet running into the aisle, pointing at a bag of candy as a man follows close behind. 

his breath hitches. 

she’s small, the girl—she has two pigtails with soft strands of blonde hair falling out of the loosely tied bands. it reminds suguru of the first time he perfected tying up nanako’s hair, the soft giggles behind her tiny hand as she twirled in the mirror. 

there’s another girl in the man’s arms—dark hair on her head as she curls into her father’s chest and tucks her head into his neck when she sees you and suguru in the aisle. she’s shy, he realizes, like mimiko, and suddenly he remembers the tiny fingers that used to hook into his pants when she got too overwhelmed by the people around her, waiting for suguru to scoop her into his arms. 

perhaps in another life, suguru would redo everything differently—he’d be happy with you and satoru and shoko, and nanami and haibara would be there too, well and alive. but no matter what, he’d never redo nanako and mimiko differently. he’d never change a thing about them, not even the way nanako whines too much about small things or the way mimiko never speaks up even when something is clearly bothering her. he’d never change the way he saved them and took them in at the tender age of eighteen, too lost to be a father but choosing to raise them anyway. he’d never change the feeling of pure joy and unbridled pride when they climbed into his bed for the first time, shushing each other so as not to wake him—even though he’d awoken as soon as the door to his room opened. 

because he realized that night that yeah, maybe he’d made mistakes in his lifetime, lots of them too. maybe he’d made a bad choice choosing the path he did, or maybe he didn’t. he’s never been completely sure—just that he had to try at least to make his vision for a different world come to life. but one mistake he never made was his girls. one thing he was always sure about was the soft clutch at his pants and the tiny hands reaching for his own.

suguru wouldn’t change anything about nanako and mimiko—except maybe the fact that they aren’t here, gone because of him. 

“suguru?” you ask softly, reaching for his hand as he grips the cart tightly and pulling his gaze away from the family in the distance. 

he blinks, meets your eyes, and knows that you know. with one glance at your face, he knows you understand. the world is cruel, one filled with suffering, he thinks. but then he remembers what you said, that every world is full of suffering, not just his—that it’s a truth he has to come face to face with.

but it’s hard. it’s hard when this man has his two little girls and suguru does not—it’s hard to watch someone have what he wants with no worries of losing it, all because of people and their own weaknesses. he thinks for a moment that he’s been right all along—that non-sorcerers are too weak for this life, that the jujutsu world has always suffered so they don’t have to. 

but then the man speaks up, catching both of your attention. 

“your mother used to love those,” he says quietly to his daughter, a pained smile on his face. instantly, you and suguru both seem to understand the weight of that single sentence. 

every world has its own pain, suguru realizes. its own cruelties and unfairness, its own way of bringing suffering in its wake as it rips away the things closest to you from your begging fingertips, leaving them cold and empty and numb from the lost weight underneath them. 

“let’s go, suguru,” you whisper, “we have everything we came for.”

“yeah,” he whispers back, clearing his throat so his voice doesn’t crack, “let’s go.”

suguru leaves the grocery store with you after you pay, and for a brief moment, he’s unsure. unsure whether he’s grateful to satoru for fighting for him to be able to come and grateful to you for dragging him along, or if he wishes he died along with the rubble, gone before you could find him and turn him into this.

“before you even think about hiding away in your room,” you say, grabbing the bags from the cart as you put it back where it belongs, “you have to help with putting away the groceries.”

“sure,” he says smoothly. he grabs all the heavy bags from your hand, and you make a move to protest that you don’t need him to take the heavier ones, that you’re fine and can handle them like you’ve always handled them. 

but he walks off, and finally, you decide to simply follow.

————————————————

satoru likes to come and visit—you’ve started a routine movie night every week (unless he’s away, of course.) it’s fun, but it also means he makes your veins pop because he’s a headache like that—always makes himself right at home and eats your snacks like this is his place and not yours. he helps himself to your already limited candy and puts his sock-clad feet up on the coffee table no matter how many times you tell him not to. 

you try sitting with legs as long as these, he always whines, earning a harsh glare from you as you smack at his shins until he ultimately caves and begrudgingly sets his feet down. 

but then they always make their way back up to the coffee table, and you’re too busy enjoying his company to care—although you’ll never admit it. 

satoru is endearing like that, swallowing the dark clouds from your shoulders whole and eating up your burdens with that side of responsibility that you don’t think you could ever stomach. satoru is just like that, you realize, taking the brunt of the weight and laughing off every concern until you can’t help but not take them seriously yourself. 

it’s hard to remember that sometimes you didn’t just lose suguru, the love of your life, that night. everyone lost something. shoko lost someone to smoke with, yaga lost a student to scold, nanami lost a headache to avoid, and satoru?

well…satoru lost what you think might’ve been the only filled void of his miserably empty life. 

it’s hard to remember that satoru lost his best friend—the only best friend he’s ever had (although you like to think of yourself as a close contender)—because he’s so good at letting you forget. he brings you ice cream (that he eats half of because it’s only fair he gets a share), and he sits and hogs your couch (that he argues you don’t really need as much space as him on because your legs aren’t as long), and he watches those stupid sitcoms that are dry with boring jokes (that you used to make suguru watch back in the day).

it’s hard to remember that satoru also lost as much as you because he’s so damn good at making you forget about your own loss, you don’t care to think about anyone else’s for a while. just a short while. just until he’s yawning that obnoxiously loud yawn and stretching those awkwardly long limbs of his before he claims he really should go and that being the world’s best teacher requires as many hours of beauty sleep as you can squeeze in. 

and then he’s off. and it’s empty again. and just like that, you’re reminded of why he was there in the first place—to fill in that sick and painful void that geto suguru left in you. 

it’s gaping, like he tore a chunk of you right out with sharp teeth, like you’re just a piece of meat for him to get his fill of. if suguru really loved you, would you be so easy to let go of? why couldn’t he smile? because you could—god, you could smile just from the sight of him alone, you realize a long time ago. him with his cigarette tucked between his lips, those death sticks as you called them, hung loosely from his mouth as he gives you a lopsided grin. 

geto suguru is enough of a reason to smile. the world could crumble at your feet and leave you with nothing but rubble and dirt, and still, suguru is the core of the earth you’re searching for. 

so why couldn’t you be the same? what is it you were missing? what about you was just not enough for him like the way he was enough for you? 

it dawns on you one night, through bitter tears and shaky sobs, and that sick, twisted, pleading feeling in your gut that begs the wind to carry him back to you—geto suguru has never loved you the way you loved him.

and for that, you can never forgive him, you don’t think.

“you tryin’ to go bug-eyed?” he asks, settling down on the couch next to you, making you snap out of your trance. you shake your head a little, stare back at him for a moment before putting on that look on your face where you roll your eyes and pretend everything is fine.

“no,” you huff, “i’m just thinking.”

“about…?”

“satoru has rarely ever missed a movie night.”

“maybe he’s sick of you,” he shrugs, grinning slyly at you as you narrow your eyes with a glare, “there’s someone here to keep you company now so he’s probably taken his opportunity to run.”

“you’re hardly company,” you scoff, “freeloader.”

“hey,” he defends, shrugging as if it’s not his fault. you suppose it’s not. “i didn’t ask to be rescued. you can’t be high and mighty and petty. ‘s not how that works.”

“says who? you don’t make the rules. i can be graciously kind and a jerk all at once.”

“complexity,” he nods, “i like it.”

“i’m not as complicated as you might think,” you grumble, crossing your arms as you stare at the time. yeah, satoru isn’t making it—which, he told you as much, but he’s strolled in at the last second too many times to count before. you figure today would be the same. “as long as you don’t skip movie nights with me, i’m pretty simple to keep appeased.”

“alright,” he props his feet up on the coffee table—seriously, what is it with asshole men putting their feet on your table? satoru is a terrible influence. “let’s have a movie night.”

“what?” you blink.

“movie night,” he repeats, “you said you don’t like skipping movie night—”

“well, i meant i don’t like satoru skipping movie—”

“well, it was me before satoru, wasn’t it?” he says with a smile. his eyes are closed, crinkled at the corners, but his voice is carefully neutral—like he takes extra care not to let you see any emotion behind it. 

but that only means there is an emotion, isn’t there? is he jealous? does he hate the fact that you and satoru have a routine of your own without him? that you don’t need him to continue living your life? 

good. he should be. he walked out on you all those years ago. he killed a village. killed his parents. you never even got to meet them—he never even got to take you home and introduce you to them before he ripped away every fantasy you ever had with him. 

and now he’s back—he has the audacity to live, to laugh in your face with his existence that yes, geto suguru is here. and he was supposed to be executed, but your stubborn friend didn’t let that happen. he was supposed to be your husband by now with kids and a happy little home, and you were supposed to be his parent’s new addition to their family that they loved so much. but none of that is even close to happening, and it’s suguru’s fault, and the least he can do is show you some regret and maybe feel just the slightest bit bad that you now have to watch shitty movies with his best friend instead of him to feel normal. 

ex-best friend? half best friend? you don’t even know—do they still consider each other their best friends? does anyone consider suguru anything? you don’t know what you consider him. but you think the least he can do is act just the slightest bit pathetic after making you feel so pathetic for so long just to even the score. 

he should be a stranger. he feels like an old friend. but either is dangerous. 

“alright,” you sigh, “let's bring back movie night. don’t fall asleep.”

“i get plenty of sleep nowadays,” he hums, “i have more than enough free time for that now.”

“how lucky of you,” you snort. 

—

picking a movie with suguru is difficult. he actually has standards—satoru watches anything so long as he gets snacks, and he can make anything fun to watch with the way he comments from the side like a critic. suguru, on the other hand, actually cares about the quality of a movie, the metrics that make it good. 

so you pick the hunger games just to piss him off. 

“seriously?” he raises a brow, “this is your pick?”

“yes,” you grin, “i like these movies.”

“of all movies—”

“my house, my rules,” you grin cheekily, “you can pick the movies as soon as you start paying the bills.”

“wow,” he deadpans, “stooping to use my financial status against me? i thought you were better than this.”

“oh suguru,” you sigh dramatically, grabbing a bag of chips from the table, “you don’t know me at all.”

all things considered, you think it’s a rather enjoyable experience. it’s not as fun without satoru’s stupid comments that you pretend to hate, but suguru provides his own commentary that earns a giggle out of you here and there too—although his are not meant to be funny. but that’s the appeal of it, you think. 

“she should have picked gale,” he mumbles. you raise a brow.

“peeta was always there for her, did you miss the rain scene?”

“so was gale,” he says smoothly, grabbing a chip from your bag and making you scowl.

“gale killed her sister,” you point out, “and a lot of other people too. he was ruthless. she needed peeta.”

“gale did what he had to do,” suguru mumbles. 

suddenly, it doesn’t really feel like you’re discussing the movie anymore. it feels more than that. it feels sickening—the air is heavy, and your throat is dry and god, you just wanted a movie night and not this heaviness as you talk about stuff from the past without actually talking about it. 

you blink before turning to your chips, playing around with the bag as you shrug. 

“in the end he didn’t get katniss, did he?”

suguru studies you for a moment, stares a little too deep into you that you start to feel the urge to bolt to your room and go to bed. 

“guess not,” he says quietly, “guess that’s the one regret he has, huh?”

you think for a second, as suguru stares at your eyes with something you can’t quite read, that you might cry. you might cry and throw that half-empty can of soda in his face for speaking in codes and making you question what he means and remember your past. you might cry because suguru could’ve always gotten you—in fact, he had you.

it’s not fair. nothing is, but you can’t help but dwell on it.

“i’m going to bed. it’s late,” you mumble after a few moments, standing. he only nods, staring at the tv as the credits roll. when you make it to your room and the door shuts behind you, you debate clicking the lock in place. 

in the end, you don’t lock the door. suguru climbs into bed with you once more later that night, shaking slightly from his nightmare but calmer than usual. he’s still gone by the time morning comes, and you still never mention it.

it hits you one night that maybe he still has you—maybe you never let him stop having you, no matter what you say.

————————————————

suguru is good at cleaning while you’re away. you have to go out and do adult things like breadwinning and grocery shopping and bill paying. he dusts and cleans and even takes out the trash when you’re home to monitor him as he steps two feet out of your front door. sometimes, because you like to get on his nerves, you accidentally mess up a corner of the house just as he cleans it, laughing as he shoots you an unimpressed look. 

“stop getting crumbs on the floor,” he mumbles, “i just vacuumed.”

“you make a good malewife,” you giggle, “vacuuming and everything. how cute.”

“don’t call me that,” he grumbles, sitting down on the couch. 

“but you missed a spot,” you point to the crumbs you’ve sprinkled from your fingers as you snack away, making him glare. “failwife.”

“i’m going to divorce you and take everything,” he snaps, making you snort as you put your hands up in surrender.

“you don’t have to, you know,” you murmur, “clean, i mean. i can handle it.”

“i think i should carry my weight around here,” he shrugs, “since you are basically sugar babying me around for now.”

“dangerous curse user to the world, but sugar baby to me,” you tease, pulling a chuckle out of him as he rolls his eyes. 

sometimes it’s nice to have his company. suguru is good with banter like that, he’s not annoying like satoru where you run in circles. suguru makes you laugh from your belly, makes the hiccups catch in your throat as you double over. he’s always been like that, always known how to make laughter pour from your lips and trickle down your chin. it’s comforting to know he still knows how. it leaves a small amount of bitterness that he’s still able to make you feel like this. 

“by the way, next time you go shopping, take me with you,” he says casually, “i need to buy stuff for my hair. it’s growing.”

“you’ll finally see the sun just for your hair?” you gasp, “who knew that’s all it’d take?”

despite the playfulness in your words, there’s still shock. suguru is willingly stepping foot outside your house. he’s finally choosing to return to life after living like a recluse no matter how many times you and satoru have tried to beg him to get up and go somewhere. the most you can get out of him is a walk around the neighborhood before he goes back to wandering your home and hiding away in his room. 

suguru is returning to life, his life, and you can’t help but wonder where that leaves room for you.

“my hair is my charm,” he reasons, “wouldn’t you agree?”

there’s a smirk on his lips when he asks—it’s like he’s seventeen and teasing you again, giving you that unfairly flirty smile that used to make you stutter as a kid. back when you were hopelessly in love. back when it was you, suguru, and the world in your corner. back when you had dreams of your future, practically giggling as you planned it away in a notebook. 

suguru was always perfect like that, the kind of guy you could only dream about. he’s always been handsome—he’s always been the center of attention everywhere you went. you used to huff about it, about all the attention he managed to get from walking into a room alone. but then he’d smile, give you that tender look of his as he’d chuckle, and you’d be hopeless again. 

he shouldn’t have that effect on you anymore after over a decade. but he does. it’s cruel, the way the universe works. it’s like there’s a magnet that pushes you together no matter how far you try to go, still pulled by gravity straight into his awaiting eyes and devilish smile.

“i cut your hair off once, i can do it again,” you huff. he laughs, it’s good-natured and kind. 

“i was a bit heartbroken when i realized it was so short, i have to admit,” he says, “i didn’t look like me.”

“you looked good,” you say quietly, “i think you’d make anything work, to be honest.”

“yeah?” he grins, “any requests? i might consider it if it’s you.”

“oh shut up,” you roll your eyes, “how about shaving your head bald? let's see how much charm you have without all that hair.”

“i could charm you without the hair still, couldn’t i?” he winks. 

it’s unfair how he acts like normal. like a few months in your home undoes everything he’s ever committed, all the atrocities he’s caused. the way he flirts with you feels like you’re his again. the way he’s aged and changed feels like you’re meeting someone new. you don’t understand how suguru is so natural with that—with seamlessly falling back into a rhythm with you like nothing has changed at all.

deep down, you know that suguru is just moving on with his life. he’s making the most of what he can. he can’t die, satoru would never let him have a peaceful death after all this. he can’t go back to the way things used to be, whether that’s his sorcery days or his curse user days, and he certainly can’t start over. so he’s making do with what he has—which is very little in reality.

it’s you, your home, and the biweekly visits from satoru and occasionally shoko. so he weaves you seamlessly into his life and treats you with a sense of normalcy you can’t hope to treat him with. maybe it’s because suguru was actually able to move on after he left. 

it’s the part you hated him most for. for building a family with new people. for having two girls that he raised as daughters. for finding people to follow him and trust. suguru, after he walked away from everything he ever knew, actually did something with his life—even if it could hardly be considered good. 

you? you fell deeper and deeper into a pit of denial until clawing your way back out was too impossible, until you had to leave behind everything you’ve ever known to get away from the remnants of his existence. 

it’s easy for him to weave you back into his life because he chose to cut you loose. it feels damn near impossible to let him weave back into yours after he tore himself from the edges and frayed away. 

“don’t do that,” you sigh, making him frown.

“do what?”

“you know what, suguru,” you pinch your nose in frustration, “stop acting like things are normal.”

“things are definitely not normal,” he snorts bitterly, “i think needing your approval to take the trash out is not equal to normal.”

“then why are you acting like…” you trail off, unsure.

“like what?” he raises a brow. 

“like we never changed,” you slam your hands down on the couch in exasperation. 

he stares at you for a minute, blinks once, then twice, and then furrows his brows.

“well, of course we changed,” he mumbles in confusion, “i know that—”

you shouldn’t have said anything. you quickly realize that. suguru is not trying to act like things are normal—he’s trying to be civil, and you’re just a fool. a fool who looks too deeply into everything and assumes what you want to out of things and god, you’ve embarrassed yourself in front of your one and only ex-boyfriend in over a decade who was once dead and somehow came back to the land of the living.

of course, he knows things are not the same. he doesn’t want what you think he does. it’s been years and suguru has moved on—he had already moved on all those years ago, and you’re the only one here that is still focused on the past. and now he knows it too. 

you stand before he can finish, nodding as you stare down instead of meeting his eyes, pretending to adjust your clothes. 

“right, of course you do,” you nod, “i don’t know why i said that. just ignore me, i’ll be going to my room now. i have…things to do, so i’ll be—”

“hang on,” he frowns, hand grabbing your wrist, “i don’t mean it like that,” he says gently.

fuck geto suguru for being so confusing and fuck him for being nice about it too. 

“you can let go, suguru,” you pull at your wrist, “forget what i said, i wasn’t thinking—”

“i still feel the same,” he cuts you off, making your eyes widen, “if that’s what you mean. i never stopped.”

never stopped—that’s almost worse than moving on. how could he have felt the same all those years and still never come back?

“that does not help even a little,” you swallow the lump in your throat. “that makes this so much worse, do you see that?”

“i know,” he sighs, “i’m sor—”

“don’t say you’re sorry,” you grit your teeth, “we both know you’re not.”

“maybe not,” he admits, “i had to try. and that meant leaving—i’m sorry that’s not what you wanted.”

“it’s not!” you turn around, pulling your arm out of his grasp—suguru, for what it’s worth, takes the shove to his chest like a champ. “of course i didn’t want you to leave and kill a bunch of people and have an execution stamped on your forehead and live your life without me.”

“i know—”

“and now you’re back. back! in my house, eating my food and sleeping in my bed for half the night and i just have to act like this is normal. how is any of this normal?” 

“it’s not,” he agrees. he’s calm. so calm, it almost makes you mad. why is he so calm? “nothing about anything in our lives is normal. it never was.”

“you ruined my life,” you blink back tears. he smiles sadly, taking a step closer.

“i guess i can take the blame for that,” he nods, hands finding their way to your hips. against your better judgment, you lean half your weight against his body. this is bad, very bad—but it’s also the best thing ever. 

being close to suguru feels like the sun’s heat tearing through your skin—it’s warm. it’s pleasant. it leaves you parched and drained with a dry throat. but still, you need it to survive. 

“why did you come back?” you ask tiredly. his hand finds the small of your back, rubbing slow circles.

“i don’t know,” he hums, “i didn’t really get a say. maybe i was always meant to, who knows?”

you look at him at that—tilt your head to get a good look at his features. his eyes are more tired, and his cheeks are a bit more sunken in compared to the youthful flesh you remember him with. his hair isn’t as healthy, and his forehead has the slightest traces of pale marks from the scars. but he’s still suguru—and you have always loved suguru, even if he gives you every reason to hate him.

“you make my life unreasonably difficult,” you mutter.

he hums, smiling. “can i?” he asks breathlessly, pleadingly. you stare at his eyes, he stares at your lips. you know what he wants—but fuck, you can’t let him have it so easy. 

“can you what?” you ask, raising a brow slowly.

“are you really gonna make me say it?” he grunts, lips almost curled into a pout. it’s cute, the way he looks longingly at your lips—it’s so cute and beautiful and dangerous all at once, just like suguru. 

“yes,” you say, “yes i am. i deserve to hear it suguru, after everything you put me through. you…you left me. i wasn’t enough for you. i mourned you. i grieved a body i never even saw. do you know what that does to a person? to lose them not once but two times? the least you could do is tell me what you want,” your voice wavers just a little. 

it shakes for the lost time. for the moments you’ll never have. for the memories you lost. for the past that’s tainted. time is cruel like that. but that’s the beauty of it all—the fragility. it’s like sand falling through the cracks of your fingers, every grain slipping from your reach but still soft and soothing against your skin as it falls. everything fades over time, everything starts to hurt one way or another. but it stops. it heals. it starts over. the sand fills the cup of your palms again, warm and delicate and just as beautiful as before it crumbled. 

“can i kiss you?” he asks desperately, “please?”

“kissing me is not a temporary thing,” you shake your head, “not anymore. it’s for good. only for good.”

“i want to kiss you for good,” he nods, hands digging into your hips impatiently. you’re close. you’re too far. he can feel you, smell you, hear your unsteady breaths. but it’s not enough. he needs to devour you, taste you on his tongue, and melt you with his touch. “i won’t stop this time,” he promises. 

“you better not,” you sniffle, tears blurring your vision. you hated suguru for leaving you. you hated him for coming back to you like this. you never stopped loving him, never will stop loving him—and maybe that’s what love is. when the darkness is worth trekking through for the afterglow of the light. “if you fucking leave me again, you’re dead to me. i don’t care how many times you come back to life. you’re dead to me.”

“okay,” he agrees through a shaky chuckle, “i suppose i deserve that. let me kiss you, yeah?”

“yeah,” you breathe.

he kisses you—years too late, he kisses you. it feels like you’re teenagers again. it feels different and foreign. you know this feeling like the back of your hand. you don’t understand what this sensation is anymore. it’s new. it’s old. it’s perfect. it hurts. suguru is here. he promised not to leave—you don’t know if you believe him, but you’re going to trust that finally, for once, you are enough. 

you’re enough to make him happy. to give him a sense of purpose. to keep him swimming when his limbs start to sink. 

finally, for once, you’re enough. 

“i love you,” he whispers against your mouth, breathing the words into you like he’s offering you the air from his lungs, “i never stopped. i promise.”

“you don’t deserve to hear it from me,” you murmur back, panting against his lips, “not yet.”

“fair enough,” he chuckles, “you sure know how to leave a guy waiting.”

“i learned from the best,” you shoot back.

he grins—suguru smiles, heartfelt and real. life is full of misery, it’s painful, and nothing fucking makes sense. everything is cruel. everything dies no matter how carefully you water the roots. there’s always something, someone, ready to tear it from the earth. but if you keep planting the seeds, suguru will keep watering. 

maybe something kind can bloom from that, something big enough for him to hide under the shade when the scorching heat of tragedy becomes too much. 

in this world or in the jujutsu world; in this life or in the next. suguru is yours.

“why am i here?” he asks gently, his face digging into your neck. you hold him, cradling the back of his head as you hum. 

“because i need you here. will you stay?”

“yes,” he murmurs, “i think i’ll stay.”

hi. i have been working on this since march. its still not how i envisioned it to be originally but that's okay. i had fun writing it and it means a lot to me even tho its kind of. well....cliche LMAO like everything i write. but. i enjoy the cliches okay ?? i do. kxljchskdf hope u guys didn't hate it </3

also the fic banner is …. not the greatest. just ignore it ok

[wilwheaton]

shitler's iowa "win" in context

56K Christofascist losers (out of 752K voters, 115K of whom actually went to the caucuses) picked their own fascist loser to be the loser in November.

The narrative they are trying SO HARD to push on us is bullshit. This isn't some kind of landslide victory over a tough field. He *barely* topped 51% against the most pathetic field of weak candidates who fell all over themselves to not criticize him or even tell the truth about him. And look at the roughly 700K voters who stayed home or picked someone else. That's a big part of this story I am not seeing.

America hates this guy and everything he stands for. Yeah, there's a lot of white supremacy in the Republican party, and they have exerted minority rule for a long, long time. They have a loud and angry base, and an entire propaganda network dedicated to pushing their lies. AND STILL they and their policies aren't popular. Their leader is indicted on 91 felony counts, will almost certainly go to prison, and is so feeble he can't risk facing anyone but his most sycophantic (ever dwindling) audiences, lest he shit himself and forget who he's running against.

He's dangerous as fuck, but he's a massive loser and we can beat him again, just like we did in 2020 and 2022 when his hand-picked lunatics were defeated all over the place.

Do not get discouraged and think that this means America has suddenly forgotten about all of his violence, chaos, cruelty, corruption, and crimes.

Remain vigilant, check your registration, confirm your registration, and make sure you and everyone you know turn out to protect America and the world from this piece of shit.

[erwinsvow]

i can see the trio dangerously driving to or from a party. they’re speeding down the empty road, the new future album blasting from the speakers of topper’s jeep. kelce is up front, and reader and rafe are in the back. reader is a bit drunk and rafe is high out of his mind and can’t control his feelings for reader so he starts getting touchy with her, maybe trying to kiss her. since you’re just starting this au out, i’m curious to know how do you think reader would react and if she did kiss him back, how would topper and kelce react?

the last line of coke was a mistake—it made him lose the last bits of his self control. it was clear that he was way too high to drive, even though it seemed like rafe always drove clear-headed or not, so you were assigned babysitting duty in the back.

top was on a rager today, even worse than his usual ones. whenever him and sarah started fighting, he got like this, currently blasting some future song at the highest volume possible, speeding through the streets of kildare. you would be a little scared, except kelce is driving while topper nurses yet another beer in the passenger seat. you're deliciously drunk, still gone from the drinks you had at the party, not a care in the world except making sure rafe doesn't keel over in the back.

you mumble along the words to the song, pretty much engraved in your memory from how often it was played. you don't know how it happens, your fingers just find rafe's hair, brushing it out of his face while he talks to top and kelce in the front, amped up and loud, acting as crazy as you've ever seen him. you giggle, continuing your motions.

topper begins some rant about his girlfriend, or rather, his ex, while rafe locks eyes with you. it's hard to keep eye contact, looking away the second rafe shuts up and focuses on you completely. you're never shy around them but this might be the closest you've gotten.

you feel rafe's hands on your exposed thighs, your tiny skirt ridden up in the seat. his touch feels good, in your drunken state you don't think there's anything wrong with it. he's just being friendly, being touchy, being rafe. he strokes the soft skin of your legs, running his hands down to your ankles, while you shift around in the back. all it would take is one look from the boys in the front to see that something's going on back here.

"rafe, listen to top he's talkin-"

"shh," rafe says, noise completely overlooked by the others, nothing audible except the thump of the bass. he takes your face into his hand, leaning in close. "shut up for a second." he kisses you, briefly, barely, lips touching together and your eyes fluttering shut, when kelce slams on the brakes. the two of you fly apart, your heart thudding for an entirely different reason now.

"what the fuck, kelce, my brakes-" top starts.

"it was a deer, you idiot. you guys okay?" he turns to look at you and rafe in the back, your face flushed and rafe's hands still on your legs.

"fine," rafe mumbles. the four of you head back to tannyhill, you crashing on rafe's bed like always while top and kelce take the guest room down the ball. the two of you are out before you can bring it up, but rafe doesn't forget about it.

in the morning, you stretch, the oversized shirt of his you'd put on for the night riding up. rafe doesn't wait another minute.

"so, about last night. in the car." he looks at you, waiting for your response.

"oh, rafe, don't apologize. it's okay. we were both pretty gone."

"m'not apologizin', i-"

"and i mean, who hasn't been there once or twice-"

"once or twice?"

"and i kissed kelce that one time, so i guess-"

"you kissed kelce?" rafe looks at you like you've committed a crime.

"what? it was new years."

"where the hell was i?"

"i don't know, probably sucking some girl's face off. i was busy making out with kelce, remember?" you laugh, getting up and looking for your clothes. rafe lays back down on the bed, deciding he's never leaving you alone with kelce ever again.

[galaxysgal]

𝐢 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 || 𝐥𝐢𝐩 𝐠𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐚𝐠𝐡𝐞𝐫

pairing: lip gallagher x fem!reader

summary: just lip being a cute bf + debbie and ian being little shits

warnings: lowercase on purpose. poorly written tbh. swearing but y’all know how it is. heavily unedited. gen said yolo so i’m posting

A/N: i’ve been on hiatus for god knows how long but my roommate and i started watching shameless and i can’t get this mfer out of my head. things w school and life are hard rn so i just wrote this comfy cozy little thing in my notes app. yolo asf.

wordcount: probably like 500 or less idk i wrote it in my notes app at 1am

— — — — — — — — — — —

you’re nestled in lip’s arms, high up on his rickety top bunk. somewhere between finishing your nails and kissing until you could barely breathe, you had fallen asleep right against his chest.

you stirred now, your cozy world interrupted a squeaky little voice. “are you in love with her?” debbie questions.

lip shushes his sister, “be quiet, she’s sleeping.”

you were wide awake now, but much too comfortable to move and make that little fact known. plus, you wanted to hear his answer.

“i asked you a question dummy. are you in love with her?”

lip stutters, “i-i dunno. i really like her, okay?”

you’re satisfied with that answer. “in love” was a little too much too quick. but “really like” was something that made you feel all warm and fuzzy inside.

“what d’ya like about her?” ian presses.

you can practically hear the gears turning in lip’s head as his siblings impatiently await a response.

“she’s- i dunno, she’s pretty?” lip replies. you hold back a scowl, annoyed at him for not having a better answer.

“yeah, great rack,” debbie comments.

“jesus, deb!” lip’s head falls back in frustration, one hand coming to cradle your head as not to wake you with the sudden motion.

“cut the shit lip,” ian interrupts. “tell us what you really think.”

you hold your breath as you wait for his response. his lips brush your hairline before he sighs. “she’s sweet, yeah? real kind.”

“a real woman of the people,” ian snorts, “princess diana type.” then “ow!” as you hear debbie shove him.

“and- and she’s real smart, too,” lip continues. “really, really fuckin’ smart. an’ she works hard. she just tires herself out sometimes.”

he strokes your hair gently, pressing a few more fleeting kisses to your forehead.

“you’re so whipped.”

you hear debbie shove her brother again, and this time ian fights back, the two making a ruckus as they push each other back and forth.

“come on guys, out. now.” lip orders his siblings around with that same stern voice you’ve heard plenty of times before.

debbie pouts. “but-“

“no buts. go on, she’s fuckin’ sleepin’ in here an’ you’re gonna wake her up. fuck off.”

“we were just-“

“fuck. off.”

“jesus,” you can practically hear ian roll his eyes. “alright, alright. we’re going.”

debbie yells for fiona as the two shuffle out of the room, not bothering to close the door behind them.

you smirk to yourself as lip groans above you, showing your cards. “you’re awake?”

you peer up at him through your lashes, a smirk planted on your lips that he’s just dying to kiss off. “can’t believe your little sister said i have a great rack,” you whisper.

lip laughs, loud and genuine. “yeah, she’s been stuffing fi’s old training bras. growin’ up an’ shit. i don’t like it.”

you’re quiet for a moment, admiring him. you know how important those kids are to him. he’d do just about anything for them, including the minor crimes you find him tangled up in on a weekly basis. he loves them like they’re his own kids, which honestly they kind of are. they may shove each other around, curse each other out, yell and scream at the top of their lungs, but at the end of the day lip has been more of a father to his siblings than frank ever was.

“you really meant all that?” you ask.

lip looks down at you, his blue eyes soft in the dim light. “yeah. yeah, i did. meant every word.”

you smile, leaning up to place a solid kiss on his lips. “for what it’s worth,” you murmur, “i really like you too.”

[un-lawliet]

I recently found your blog and <3

I’ve been having some health issues lately and have been struggling so I decided to leave a request! Obviously don’t feel pressured to write! If the prompt doesn’t stick feel free to ignore!

High school Satoru X female reader who had a crush on him in for ages but she’s so shy and Gojos so popular so they don’t really interact. BUT she decides to bake him sweets and leave them on his desk and somehow he finds out it was her and asks her on a date.

CHEESY I KNOW >~< I feel like we don’t have enough fics of reader being head over heels in love with Gojo and it’s a must!

ANYWAY- again this is a ramble feel free to ignore MWAH

hi anon !!! id absolutely LOVE to write this ITS NO PRESSURE AT ALL :) thank you so so so much for the request- i hope you’re ok ! and i’m always here incase u need to talk <3

“Pretty.”

— in which Gojo has a secret admirer.

“Did you hear? Satoru Gojo has a secret admirer.”

“Oh Yea? Who?”

“Dunno, ‘pparently he’s going mad tryna find ‘em though.”

…

Your face was definitely burning, hands sweating and jaw clenched as you listen to the chatter of your classmates. Their voices morphing into the background of your busy mind, blending seamlessly into the slight disarray of (as you would describe it) your dire situation.

Blinking, you raise your hand to scratch the base of your neck, trying to pull yourself together less you reveal your crimes of admiration out-loud to classroom full of people who barely knew of your name.

You could see him, from where you sat, hunched over in your seat at the back of the classroom, your eyes squinted ever so slightly as the unforgiving sun spread her light through the window, gracefully imposing on your face falling directly into your peering eyes.

Leaning against the smudged glass of the vending machine, he had his head tilted back, laughing boisterously at a joke from his friend (the one who was always trying to hide the smoke from her lit cigarette)

In one hand you could see a can of soda you knew was far too sweet for anyone but himself, and in the other, you saw the small tin, decorated with the white and yellow details of pretty flowers and bee’s. Lid concealing the sweets in which you had baked just a day prior, sweets that you had hoped would act as a silent confession of your- oh you’re blushing again.

Your feelings for Satoru Gojo were undeniable, however unspoken. And you doubt you would ever get to a point where you would voice them out-loud to anyone let alone Gojo himself.

But you are unfortunately, still human, and humans have a tendency to want to be acknowledged, and after years of harbouring unheard feelings for someone, the bitter grasp of your own human desire overpowered your confident resolve of silence.

And so, you left a tiny box of chocolates with a tiny pretty note tucked in the back, with a silently cheeky “Enjoy” written in pink pen.

Glancing over to the vending machine once more, you watched as Satoru Gojo waved a hand in-front of his face, pouting as he tried pathetically to dodge the smoke blown at him by his friend, who grinned cheekily in response, flicking the now finished bunt towards the ground and stepping on it, moving her foot side to side to kill the remains of the flame.

You smile.

You had met Gojo two years ago, but had known of him far longer.

In the words of yourself (and probably everyone else who knew him) he was the epitome of perfection. Good in class, the best in any sport he took up and God he was beautiful.

Everyone knew him, the exact opposite to you.

You who quietly stumbles around her own feet, and apologises for even the slightest thing, despite it mostly never being your fault.

You were incomprehensibly shy, and so incredibly frustrated with your own reticence.

And yet two years ago, Satoru Gojo had asked you for a pen, you for a pen.

He had leaned back in his chair, during your math class, turned his head and nudged you instead of everyone else around him.

A pretty grin on his face as he sheepishly explained that he forgot to bring his own, and you had stammered and nodded handing him a pen as you gently said “You can keep it for the rest of the day, I don’t mind.”

“Huh? You serious?” He had replied, his head cocking slightly eyes crinkling under his sun glasses.

“Yea? I mean uh- yes!” Looking away from his gaze shyly. “It’s just a pen you know? I have plenty.”

He laughed, and you couldn’t help but look right back at him, your heart basically stopping as he winked, right at you.

“Thanks pretty.”

And your sure you had died, right then and there. Watching the back of his head as he turned back around, uncapping your pen as he moved.

Since then, Gojo had always smiled at you when he saw you walking past, and always without fail, you would sheepishly smile back, the familiar feeling of butterflies tickling the confines of your stomach every damn time.

The shrill sound of the bell rang throughout the classroom, and you stand up, taking your books with you with a sigh.

The clatters of chairs and bags zipping filtered through your thoughts and pulled you out of your self induced daydreaming stupor, calling you to join the rest of your classmates in exiting the confines of your classroom.

You glance back out the window once more before you move towards the door, and instantly your eyebrows lifted and you almost loose grasp of your balance as Gojo Satoru stares right back at you.

Simultaneously he smiles, lifting a hand as if greeting you and you scramble away from the window, head down, entirely embarrassed.

Oh God, oh God, oh God.

Could you be anymore useless in your “acting cool” facade.

Ever since you had placed your sweets on Satoru Gojo’s desk you had been a nervous wreck, terrified that at any second your feelings would be exposed and the entire school would point and laugh at your sweaty, flushed face.

Sniffing, you rub your eyes with the heel of your hands, trailing behind your peers through the halls, on their way home.

The lockers were always so crowded at the end of the day and you hated it.

You had no group to hide you from the conversations involving Gojo and his “secret admirer” have to hear every single in and pretend not to care.

“It’s creepy don’t you think? I mean why not just tell him you like him?”

“Maybe they’re nervous?”

“Of course they are? It’s Satoru Gojo for Christ’s sake, man’s beautiful.”

You close your locker, clutching the books and papers you need for your later homework, your bag left abandoned on the floor beside you.

Turning to reach for your bag, you feel another student collide into you. Your books crash to the ground, and you stare mortified as pages fly out, scattering everywhere.

The student doesn’t stop, just calls out that he’s sorry and that he’s late for a bus, you sigh.

You have to drop out, you think, there’s no recovering from this.

You bend down, apologising quietly to those around you who just glanced at you and continued on their way, and start to gather all your papers and books, heat burning your face.

“You ok?” You heard him just before you saw him, his teasing voice making your hands shake.

Satoru Gojo stood, a smile on his face as he leaned down to get closer to you, your eyes widen and you lean back on your knees.

“Um, yea-Yes everything’s good here..just dropped my stuff..” You trail off and end your broken speech with a fake, ugly laugh, internally you die as he nods and bends down to help.

“No, no you really don’t have to do that, I can manage!” You exclaim, hands moving rapidly in-front of you and he just laughs.

“I don’t mind helping ya, ‘kay?” He’s picking up random papers, no longer looking at you, his eyes glossing over your hand writing- a cheeky grin that you do not see flickers across his face.

You’re in a trance, watching as Gojo helps you, jumping when he glances at you and catches you staring, you busy yourself with stacking your books back into your bag, “Ok well, If you’re sure.”

“M’sure.” He’s handing you a stack of papers, ‘I’m very sure.”

The locker area door closes, signalling the absence of everyone else, you gulp.

“Suprised nobody helped you.” Gojo muses, standing up and raising a hand for you to hold.

You blush as you grasp it, it’s warm, you hope your palms aren’t sweating.

“It’s home time, people wanna get home.” You smile, rising to your feet using his hand has leverage.

Gojo let’s his hold linger before he lets go, you don’t notice, too focused on readjusting your top, fiddling with the fabric.

His sunglasses fall down his nose a little revealing the crystallised blue of his eyes, you swear the light causes them to glow as it catches his pupil.

You smile, eyes corrugating with what you hope looks like appreciation.

“Thanks Gojo.” And he smiles right back at you.

“Hey you know..” Gojo says, turning to ruffle in his bag, your eyes follow his movements, you watch as he pulls out a familiar box.

“Someone left these in my desk this morning, they’re really good..You wanna try?”

Your heart stops in your chest.

Your sure you’re bloods turning blue in your arteries.

Act casual, casual Y/N.

“O-oh that’s nice of them.” You mumble, your voice breaking slightly.

He offers you the box again, shaking it slightly to entice you with your own chocolates.

“Um are you sure? I don’t wanna take something that was made for you..” You look away from his sweet face to stare at the floor, then the ceiling and then back to the floor, there’s a crack right below your shoe.

Someone should really fix that.

“Oh come on! They taste great.” He grins, taking a chocolate and popping it into his mouth, letting out a dramatic “Mmm” as he chews.

“I’m sure they are..” You scratch your arm and then move your hand to the box, reaching in.

Your chocolates do taste nice, but you knew that already. Your taste testers from yesterday remaining as memory to your taste buds.

“Well?” His voice is teasing again, and you smile at him.

“They’re delicious.”

“Mhm.. and you know what else?”

He’s leaning closer to you, you try to stop yourself from leaning away, pushing aside your inane awkwardness, willing yourself to stay where you stand.

“They left a note too, wrote it in a pretty pink pen.”

“Oh?..How, how very uh- nice? of them.” You’re scrambling for sentence structure, staring at his stupidly handsome face.

He takes a page from your arms, and turns it towards himself, then lifts your note from out of his pocket.

Your eyes widen in realisation, and you step back, head turning to the door.

“Oh well, I have to go haha..” You trail off, shoving your stuff in your bag and beginning to walk to the door.

“You made me chocolates?” He asks, and you freeze, your eyes falling back onto him, and the soft face he regards you with.

He had turned the note and your paper around, your handwriting obviously present on both, you chastise yourself for such a huge oversight.

How can you deny it now? Oh God He has you cornered.

Embarrassment bubbles in the back of your throat and you desperately try to explain.

“I’m sorry.” You blurt, hands reaching out in-front of you as if begging him to hear you out.

“Huh-”

You don’t let him finish.

“I didnt mean to come off creepy, it’s just I- Well I- I think you’re really sweet, and you- You smile at me..sometimes, I just wanted you to let you know? And I’m sorry for how-”

“Hey, hey, hey.” He says, his face falling, “You don’t need to apologise for nothing, I’m not mad.”

He walks towards you, “I’m just glad they came from you, that’s all.”

Hope? Is that what you’re feeling right now?

You dare to look at him, only to see him already looking at you.

“I-”

“I ‘smile at you sometimes’?” He nudges, “You made me chocolates cause I smile?”

“..It’s a very nice smile.” You reply, head dropping.

He’s laughing, it’s a sound that makes your heart flicker, and warms your chest, scarce of mocking you feel yourself breathe normally again.

Gojo tilts his head to look at you, his face glowing with joy, as he asks, “I was planning on going to the cafe just down the street..Wanna come?”

You pause.

“What.”

Standing up straight, he hands you the note and your papers, you hold them and stare.

“A date, I’m asking you on a date Y/N.”

Is this real?

Is this happening?

“Are you serious?” Your voice comes out shocked and slightly higher than normal, you don’t understand.

“They’re very nice sweets.” He repeats with a grin “And they come from a very nice girl no? Why wouldn’t I be serious?”

“I- I just-”

Gojo, pulls the strap of your bag off your shoulder and slings it over his own, walking towards the door.

“C’mon let’s go pretty.” And he’s looking back at you, waiting “Else you won’t have a bag for tomorrow.”

You jump and follow, eyes still wide and mouth slightly parted.

And Gojo pulls you towards him the second you get close enough to touch, grasping your hand and tugging you with him, a soft smile on his face as he does so.

All is well.

masterlist <3

feel free the leave a request <3

a/n : all is not well, i’m sick as all balls right now- thank you my dear for the request..i know it’s taken me about 58 years to write this but i hope you enjoy it <33 i loved writing it and sorry for the wait. i love you !!!

[cherry-leclerc]

20/90 ☆ cl16

genre: humor, smut, angst, jealous!charles, post-break up, toxic ex trope, on & off

word count: 2k

After a painful break-up, you and Charles find yourselves taking part in what seems to be a never ending cycle. But there are rules that apply.

nsfw warning under the cut!

18+...car sex, riding, wrap it before you tap it!

req!...two in a day?? you guys are spoiledddd

It takes about twenty days to break a habit, give or take. There’s proof; like the time you scolded yourself into not biting your nails anymore, horrified with the idea of getting engaged with monstrous hands. Or when you swore you would never drink again after Singapore.

But it takes ninety to make a permanent change.

It was a mutual decision, it was the most mature one, really, too. He was getting more and more busy; higher demand. You were drowning with homework, and senior thesis, it was long overdue. Yet it still broke your heart just the same. We can try again in the future, he tries to reason when you sob against his chest, linen shirt growing damp, but never once thinks about pulling away. 

There is no future if there’s no you, you whimper. You feel stupid, desperate, and disgusting. It was not a lovely mix, but it was true. How could you move on when he was all you’ve ever wanted?

And there’s no present without you.

That was thirteen days ago, to be exact. Life was not better, but bearable to say the least. Often, you would find yourself stalking him on social media, unbeknownst that he did the same. You finally got your bachelor's you had worked your ass off for. He finally came to a renewal on his Ferrari contract. Life should be good.

Instead, you find yourself slumping against the cold wall, eyes squinting at the harsh sun. You’re well aware you’re panting like a beast, and sweat trickles down your face like a water faucet, but you couldn't care any less. Running was definitely not for the weak. 

Abandonner si tôt?

Directing your attention to a deep voice, your heart stops before excitedly pumping against your chest. You can feel it in your ribcage. It should be a crime how handsome he still is, the more he gets day by day. W-what are you doing here? 

His green eyes flicker against the rocks. Oh, you know. 

Are you here for me? You want to foolishly ask, but bite down instead. I thought you were already in Bahrain. 

Keeping tabs on me? 

Flustered, you narrow your eyes, feigning a normal state. We dated for five years. I know your schedule by heart. His soft features register a wave of shock, nervous fingers gripping his phone.

It was good seeing you. And he leaves.

It shouldn’t hurt so much, but it does. It feels as if you’ve scraped your knee, hit your heart, got punched square in the face, and got run over by a school bus. Infinite times. And he seems A-OK. It's against your better judgment to follow after him, to yell at him out of spite for no apparent reason. But you were not the same girl he used to know.

“Oh fuck,” Charles groans as you ride him hastily, headboard banging against the wall as he keeps a steady hold on your hip, where a path of fresh bruises lie. He almost laughs if it weren’t for you rolling your hips tentatively. He quirks a brow when you shake your head and finish around his thick girth, leaving him no choice but to follow along with a low shudder. 

“What have I done?” you whisper, delicate hands coming up to cover up your bare breasts. “Oh my God…”

“Ah,” he hums. “What a delightful thing to hear.”

Scurrying off his lap, you grab your wrinkled clothes, inching towards the exit as you wag your finger. “This –that– could never happen ever again. Capeesh?” 

Charles tries his best to hide his hurt, braving through with a nonchalant smile. “Never again.”

-

You’re eight days in when he texts you. Something about needing someone to talk to. You might have broken up, but who said you couldn’t remain friendly acquaintances? He demands you meet at your spot, and it's a slap in the face but find yourself there nonetheless. He rambles on and on about his ongoing stress, and the neverending pressure. You knew it got bad, but you never thought this much. 

“My PR manager is debating on whether I should date someone for the sake of increasing views. More attention.” 

Your jaw goes slack. “You called me for this?” Rushing up to your full height, you brush off a gust of dirt, struggling to not roll into a coughing fit. “What makes you think this is something I want to hear?”

The Monegasque’s face pinches up like a clam. “I thought you should know.”

You scoff. “Right…” He watches as you scarily pace the open field with a blank expression. It saddens him how suddenly he doesn’t know how to read you. “You’re a fucking coward.”

And you leave.

-

He follows through with it because there’s really no other choice. She’s nice, but not kind like you. She’s pretty, but not breathtaking like you. You get the gist. 

Her touch is unfamiliar and cold, forced. Abnormal. Her father is some kind of wealthy man who invests in prestigious hotels in his home country and is looking to make some more money as if what he doesn’t have is enough to serve him a lifetime. Sometimes, Charles feels for her. She probably wanted this the same amount as he did. 

Behind a screen, you live through all of it. Your friend nicknamed you as Bella-From-Twilight-When-Edward-Goes-Away. Only Edward comes back. Charles never did. But it's now been seventeen days. And you curse the day you run out of your favorite ice cream.

“Why am I always bumping into you?” you huff when you spot the brunette. He rolls his eyes. I’m the famous one here. I don’t need to follow anyone, unlike you. Where his cold tone finally blossomed from –you don’t know– but you didn’t like it at all. Purposefully hitting your cart against his own, you stroll off. “Sorry for the inconvenience, Mr. Superstar.”

Comedically, you both find yourself glaring as you check out from adjacent sides, a silent competition on who can get out of there the fastest. You came here just for that, he mouths from afar as your burn bright pink, gaze flickering towards your strawberry ice cream. You flip him off, but giggle apologetically when the cashier assumes it’s aimed towards her. 

Charles wants to chuckle in amusement but would rather eat his own foot than admit to that. Have a good day, you can hear his clerk tell him at the same time yours does too. Flinging your arm into the hoop on your tote bag, you run off as he races you with a full cart of groceries. There’s a curve you hit as you manage to squeeze through and smile back at your ex, somehow satisfied. Amidst skip, you feel a harsh push as you fling forward, falling onto your knees as a little boy winces, licks his lollipop, and walks away. 

Blood trickles down your knees as you fiercely turn back to look at a regretful loser. “Is it really that deep?” you spit out, ears turning bright red from your reasonable anger. He tries to help you up but that only receives him a slap in the face. “Great. I look like I just got my period. Unbelievable.” 

“You just hit me,” he speaks in disbelief.

“You just pushed me,” you retort pointing at your injury, flesh being creepily visible. “On purpose, I might add.”

The Monegasque scoffs, gently massaging his aching face, dark brows pointed at you like knives. “You’re one crazy fucking girl…”

“Thanks, I get that a lot.”

It's all a fateful haze, the way you end up in his car. You suppose it starts the moment he presses on helping you unload your groceries, as some sick apology. But it’s only my ice cream. But he sheepishly shrugs. Now blood paints his driver's seat as you sit on top of him, and occasional grunts overflow due to his red cheek. “I can’t have sex with you,” you mumble against his swollen lips, chest heaving as your tinted windows begin to fog up. It was still early, but you didn’t care. 

“And I shouldn’t want to have sex with you, and yet.” 

“Yeah,” you pant, kisses steaming up. “Okay then.”

Shame lingers on your drive back home, and grows even deeper when you realize your strawberry treat has melted.

-

You would never take yourself as a self-driven person; not like most people. It was only one of your many flaws, but in this very moment, bent over the kitchen counter, you promise to become one.

“I can’t keep going back to him,” you groan over the phone as Lily attentively listens to what she considers gossip, and you consider a mid-life crisis. “We broke up months ago, why do I keep doing this to myself?”

“Perhaps because two still care for one another.” And because you know you still love him, and he loves you, she wants to add but stops herself when you glare coldly. 

“I am so over him, are you kidding? I’ve never been better. In fact, I’m going out tonight. First man I see boom! Fuck him. Just like that.” You click your fingers magically for emphasis. 

Lily’s face drops as her eyes zigzag towards something behind her screen. Before she can try to talk you out of it, you hang up. She’s obviously joking, the Chinese girl stutters when Charles freezes, midway from hanging Alex a pair of joggers, since he had forgotten his own. The green-eyed boy forces a dark smile, tipping his head and heading out without a goodbye. 

“I should probably warn her.”

You weren’t picking up–you weren’t going to. It was starting to hit you how stupid this all was and you did not need your friends erasing the last bits of determination you had within you. Beaming at a group of guys, you can’t help but flutter your eyes as they quietly fight over who gets to have the first move. Dibs, if you must. Swallowing the last bit of your awful drink, you start making your way over before a warm hand grips your wrist. “No. I’m not doing this again.”

Charles rolls his eyes. “And you’re not doing that either, we’re leaving.” It takes a lot of mental strength to not kick him in the shin and run off, but you can’t help but slap him once again as soon as he drags you out into the alleyway. A habit you’ve picked up, I see, he growls.

“Why are you still doing this?” you whimper, glassy eyes looking up in complete defeat. “You broke up with me. I agreed. We’re supposed to be moving on from one another. Why can’t you at least try to let me go?”

It’s a punch to the gut, the sound of your raw voice, broken and weak. He takes a clumsy step back, chest tightening from the tense situation he has wheezed himself into. “Believe me, I’m trying but I just can’t…”

Your nose is runny, mascara coats you like a baby racoon, cheekbones are splotchy as if you’ve just been hit, and you were still the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. Which is part of the reason why he can’t walk away from everything you've been through. 

“Well you’re not going to try, but I am. For real this time.”

-

It’s been ninety-two days, a lot, but not enough at the same time. But there was a piece of you that knew you weren’t missing him as much. So, maybe–it was. Enough, you suppose. It still hurts a tiny bit sometimes, watching him pose with fake smiles, or maybe they’re genuine, you can’t really tell the difference anymore. The way his eyes learned to sparkle for her over time. Fake can become real, it appears. But you being yearnful didn’t mean you weren’t moving on for your own sake. This was good, a new start. The kind you now looked forward to.

And it only took ninety-two fucking days.

taglist: @urfavnoirette @lpab @d3kstar @namgification @myownwritings

*feel free to let me know if you would like to be included in the general taglist!!

[cheriladycl01]

Could you do fic for Toto Wolff with wife reader? Since it's Women's International Day, he and their son, Jack decided to surprise her with breakfast in bed, and just spending time together before going to the paddock. And be close to each other during the race. Just something fluff and cute. Maybe a little surprise at the end. You decide what it is. Thanks!! :)))

Days like these - Toto Wolff x Wife! Reader

Plot: Toto and your son decide to treat you after a hard day at the paddock with International Women’s Day as a reasons to be extra sweet to their lady.

A/N: im so so sorry this is much later than IWD but we can still use this to appreciate women all year round!

Credit to almostfantasy for the GIF

You were currently in and out of sleep, you’d had a very busy day around the paddock yesterday with it being media day so today you’d woken up pretty exhausted especially after what you and Toto had got up to the night before.

Toto had whispered softly to you to go back to sleep, squeezing your plush bare hip before kissing your forehead and climbing out of bed to go deal with your guys’ son who was definitely awake and wanting attention by now.

You were thankful for the lay in, but after some clinks, clonks and clangs coming from the kitchen you decided to go see what all of the noisy fuss was about.

You pull on an old top of Toto’s, an Austrian football team shirt that clung against your stomach and hips in ways that made Toto go crazy and a pair of shorts before rounding it off with your fluffy dressing gown and slippers.

You slowly make your way down stairs sleepily holding the side of the bannister as you go down. The noises from the kitchen get louder and louder until your voice opens to over power it all.

“Honey? Munchkin” you ask spread apart seeing if your husband would reply to you first.

“Mama no, no Mama no!” Your son cries out seeing your and grabbing your hand trying to pull you away from whatever is going on in the kitchen.

“What is it pumpkin?!” You ask.

“Daddy said we were doing you breakfast in bed! Your not in bed, your ruining it! VATI! Mama isn’t in bed, bed now” he cries as if you’d committed some kind of crime right in front of the child’s eyes.

In his eyes you had.

“Oh your Mama isn’t in bed, we’ll have to get her back then” Toto grins before lifting your up, as easy as ever, and throwing your over his shoulder causing a groan to fall from your mouth.

“What on earth. Toto put me down!” You laugh, lightly hitting his lower back, where your hands could reach because of the angle you were being held at.

Your son followed the pair of you up the stairs you teasingly reaching out to grab him, missing only slightly as he’d back up each time giggling at his mothers antics.

Toto lightly places you on the bed once your back in the bedroom, taking the slippers off and pushing you further up the bed. He places your son up on the bed, holding him to look at him as he explains.

“Okay, Mama escaped so we have to tuck her back in so she can’t leave again!” Toto states, showing him how to tuck you back in properly making you stifle a laugh as they both get to work making sure the duvet is secured around you.

They both trot off, going back to whatever they were doing in the kitchen as you open your phone cruising through your work emails for the day and any of the messages. One from Lewis, one from George. Some from your colleagues… it was ending when you worked for Sky Sports as presenter and commentator for F1.

Eventually you hear your husbands voice directing your son to be careful coming up the stairs so he doesn’t spill anything.

As they enter the room your heart warms impossibly. Your son was holding a glass of orange juice, not daring to look up at you in fear of dropping it. You knew he wanted to be included and that was arguably the easiest thing Toto would let him carry up the stairs.

Toto smiles widely at you, placing the array or breakfast foods on the tray across your lap, making you grin. All of your favourites were here.

“What is all of this for?” You ask happily, taking the glass of juice from your son whose been patiently waiting for you.

“Well, we know you had a hard day at work yesterday and it’s of course international woman’s day and we wanted to celebrate that with our favourite woman. Right buddy?” Toto asks your son making him nod having been briefly explained to why they were doing this for you.

A smile broke out across your face, Toto pulled you in placing a delicate kiss on your lips before he’s interrupted by the whining of your little boy who was trying to make his way up onto the bed with you.

Toto lifts him up and he crawls his way over on your left side hugging right into your mum pillowing that he loved to constantly be against.

Your son was extremely clingy, especially when it came to you. He was for sure a mummy’s boy.

Toto slides in next to you. Wrapping an arm around your shoulder as he puts some cartoon on the tv opposite the bed to entertain your son.

You offer him some of your fruit to which he shakes his head saying that it was for you.

“I don’t mind baby, sharing with your is all I want to do” you grin and eventually accepts some of the mango, strawberry’s and bananas that were in the fruit bowl.

When you were looking he snuck a pancake away, a dead giveaway being the chocolate build up now around his mouth.

“You cheeky little monster!” You exclaimed as you grabbed some tissue to wipe around the mouth getting rid of the chocolate goodness that remained.

He giggles as your wipe around his mouth, trying to dodge you like a ninja.

Eventually your easy domestic morning had to come to and end. You and Toto both needed to be at the track today. You always travelled together since when you first started dating and that hadn’t ever changed you’d just added a member to the party. Another one soon to join, little did any of you know.

You all got ready trying to make a decent time to make your way over to Silverstone Circuit ready for a day full of FP1 and FP2. Toto was hoping for a bit more luck today as Mercedes hasn’t been doing great but with some upgrades brought in this weekend he was hopeful for Lewis and George to pull through now they had a car worth driving.

After today, this morning more like you felt more attached to Totos side than ever. Later that week, you’d find out it was your new pregnancy hormones that were making you feel so needy to be around him but for now you couldn’t put your finger on why you refused to leave the Mercedes garage when you weren’t needed around for the Sky Sports crew, or any interviews.

Sky Sports commentator - And here we have one of our very own, Y/N Y/L/N currently having some family time in the Mercedes garage with her husband Toto Wolff and their son. Just look at them all, such a picture right there

Sky Sports commentator- We should actually get her up here soon for an interview about the upgrades a lot of the teams have had for this weekend. One of the surprising teams to not have any being RedBull, potential hope for that gap to close?

They did eventually call you up away from your family.

You pulled him into a massive hug and kiss, not wanting to leave him and god until he pretty much forced you out of the garage and up to the commentary box where Crofty was waiting for you.

However Toto and your son didn’t stop for a second not to watch you on the big screen talk about the cars.

Your son squealed in delight every time you spoke and waved your hands about making the mechanics pause and laugh at the boy and talk to him about his mum. A topic the youngster was more than happy to chat their ear off about.

The whole weekend was great, you had some phenomenal interviews as their eas great racing to talk to all the drivers about and spending the weekend with Toto and your son just made the highlight of your weekend.

The race came around and you watched from the Mercedes garage holding onto Toto the whole time, watching as George and Lewis dominated the track successfully splitting up the Ferraris.

You ran off right as it ended knowing you’d be needed for the podium and post race interviews as soon as possible.

“Come back soon” he smiled at you pulling you into a long chaste kiss before letting you run off.

Toto knew one thing, regardless with what happened this year in Mercedes he was more than content with his life with your right now.

Taglist:

@littlesatanicassholebitch @hockey-racing-fubol @laura-naruto-fan1998 @22yuki @simxican @sinofwriting @lewisroscoelove @cmleitora @stupidandunnecessary @clayra-g @daemyratwst @honey-belden @moonypixel @lauralarsen @vader-is-hot @ironcowboycopnickel @itsjustkhaos @the-untamed-soul @beebo86 @happylittlereader @ziejustme @lou-larcher5 @thewulf @purplephantomwolf @chasing-liberosis @chillyleclerc @chanthereader @annoyingmoonballoon @summissss @evieepepi08 @havaneseoger08 @celesteblack08 @gulphulp @fandom1ruined2me @celebstories @starfusionsworld @jspitwall @sierruhh @georgeparisole @dakotatankbig @youcannotcancelquidditch @zzonsbeek @tallbrownhairsarcastic @mellowarcadefun @ourteenagetragedy @otako5811 @countingstacksandpanicattacks @peachiicherries @formulas-bitch @cherry-piee @hopexcroc @mirrorball-6 @spilled-coffee-cup @mehrmonga @bigsimperika @blueberry64857959 @eiraethh @lilypadlover @curseofhecate @alliwantisadonut @the-fem1n1ne-urge @21stcenturytaegi @dark-night-sky-99 @spideybv28 @i-wish-this-was-me @tallrock35 @butterfly-lover @barnestatic @landossainz @darleneslane @barcelonaloverf1life @r0nnsblog @ilove-tswizzle @kapsylia @laneyspaulding19 @lazybot @malynn @cassielikereading @viennakarma @teamnovalak @landosgirlxoxo @marie0v @jlb20416 @yourbane @teamnovalak @nikfigueiredo @fionaschicken @0picels0 @seomako @urdad-hot @formula1mount @tinydeskwriter @butterfly-lover @ironmaiden1313 @splaterparty0-0 @formula1mount @styl1shl1v

[ireneaesthetic]

Pointing out little moments and details of scenes that need to be remembered.

"i can show you" scene • episode 1

the first wille’s smile of the season and simon is the one and only reason for it to happen *act surprised*.

he has no rush but takes his time to enjoy simon’s presence, looking from afar first and then approaching him. just having him there is enough to make him This happy.

the casual gestures of fixing the jacket or bumping into the shoulder make me melt - just typical boyfriends things and we absolutely praise them in this house!

wille's flirtatious mood in this whole sequence is the best thing that could've happened to me - to simon too! the "i can show you", the whispering, the head's nod. he's still my fav loser but oh how much he has learned and stepped up the game.

also, i genuinely think not showing them holding hands here with a wider shot is a crime.

such a perfect parallel of the fish scene and they're probably reminded of that too: this time it's wilhelm's bedroom and a foreign place for simon, so he's the curious one - looking around and taking the space in - while wille simply waits for him.

simon's "mysigt" to describe the room, just like wilhelm did. it is another special moment for both of them.

this. this. this!!! claim a s3 moment as your own - this is mine.

to me it is the most seductive and romantic one they've ever shared hands down. it comes straight out of a fanfic.

the tension, the longing, the chemistry, the flirting. there's so much to unpack here: wille's breath is literally vibrating and simon's presence is so intense, he builds up the tension and keeps wilhelm waiting for his next move in the most endearing way - wille is also leaning into his hand at the end. there's no talking, they're barely touching but still filling the room with all the passion and attraction they feel for one another - this is actually insanely scripted and portrayed.

no thoughts head empty just simon's tongue and his hands through wille's hair (he's obsessed, excuse him!).

and it kinda seems like simon is getting pulled closer by the waist or he's pushing himself closer - either way it's hot soo

simon's little leg lift and him pinning wille down on the bed by the wrist right before the cut - they're comfortable and open and so playful with each other. wilhelm's hand that caresses simon's back is very much important too.

simon caressing wille's cheek (he has to return the favor ig) and wilhelm leaning up again when they interrupt the kiss.

these brief moments are the cutest. i love how they stay so close and can't stop tracing each other's features.

the nose rub. the mirrored smiles. they've missed and wanted this for so long and they're taking the most of it.

this whole scene is so passionate and they're both so touchy bc they were clearly waiting for this to happen - during a meeting at the palace might not be the greatest scenario, but the thrill that comes with it is definitely something.

i like the role play throughout the scene sm: wille initiates the first kiss, simon is the one taking the lead next and then it all comes back to wille rolling them over and taking initiative. the neck action is a serious thing for him and idk where his hand would've ended up if they hadn't been interrupted - and we do! love! all of it!

they're laughing over the fact that they were not caring about anything at all but spending quality time with each other. and they deserve it so freaking much.

look at them!!! this is not a subtle look bc they simply do not care anymore. i adore them your honor.

[dcxdpdabbles]

Phantom's number 1 Fan. Part 2

Tim wakes a few days later, half submerged in liquid and hooked to various machines. He is in a tub shaped like a bed, obviously meant to sleep in. Around him is what he hopes is a hospital room with medical tools scattered about and soft blue paint that turns to the night sky the higher it goes on the wall.

On the ceiling are paintings of various constellations. It's rather beautiful.

Tim also notices he feels no pain. None. Not even the aches of his bones after years of abuse while fighting crime. He thinks that's a bit strange since the last thing he could clearly remember was barely escaping Ra's al Ghul, losing his spleen, and gaining more wounds from angry assassins on his way out.

He had been flying half-blind, blinking in and out of awareness. He thinks at one point, Cassie had attempted to call him, and he may have answered, but for the life of him, he couldn't remember what he told her.

He did remember what she said in response. She sounded so desperate as she begged over the S-Batplane speakers. "Please, Tim, you're not well. Let us help you. Just tell me where you are."

Too bad for her, since the S in S-Batplane stand for Secert because Tim had built that one on his own in Secert. There was no way she or any of the hero community could track him in it since they had no idea it existed until Tim had taken it and his supplies on his solo mission to save Bruce.

Tim will admit that he is happy they noticed he went missing- even if it was three months too late. Not that it mattered much. The rest of the Bats wanted nothing to do with him. The world only saw him as a young easy wallet as a shiny new CEO. And his friends were all dead or convinced he was insane by Dick.

Tim didn't have anyone to notice he was gone anymore. But Bruce needed him to push through the ache and get him home.

As the Robin who Bruce trained to put the mission first no matter the cost, the one that came after Jason's death so, Bruce stopped allowing himself to think of Robin as a son and more along the lines of a soldier; he quickly shut down the crying child that wailed for someone to believe him, to support him.

Sometimes it felt like Tim was still waiting by the door of Drake Manor, waiting for someone to come and care for him, to stay for him.

The door to his room opens, snapping Tim back to the present. He automatically stiffens, expecting more of the League of Assassins. He can't remember much, but he guessed he was captured by the fact he was sitting in a green glowing water.

He was not, however, expecting a Yeti to walk in, reading a clipboard.

The Yeti looks up, bearing its teeth at Tim when he notices him awake. It takes a moment to realize the action is supposed to be a smile. "Great One's Honored Guest, I am so glad you have awakened. I am FrostBite, your doctor for the remainder of your recovery."

Okay. Ra's has Yetis at his disposal.

He was the only person that Tim knew as the "Great One." Usually, his most loyal operatives too, which means he was deep within Ra's territory.

FrostBrite pauses for a response, but when Tim remains silent, he holds up his board. "It seems to me that most of your wounds have healed. The only problem is that your spleen could not be salvaged due to the damage."

Tim fights to keep the despair off his face. He figured that was the case, seeing as Ras's had it in a jar, but he had hoped.

"...I understand this may be a difficult adjustment. You will always have to be careful when being ill. Even a simple cold could be disastrous." Frostbite steps close, taping one giant claw on the tub's edge. "The Great One has ordered we keep consistent Ecoplasm Baths at the ready for the remainder of your natural life."

Fuck. The Yeti is saying Ra will never let him leave again. It's a threat disguised as a offer of help.

Tim glares down at his hands. They lay within Lazarus' water, gently healing his small scars. This must be some of the purest Lazarus he's ever seen. It must be Ra's own special blend.

The only reason he is wasting it on Tim is that Ra's wants an heir from him. Or for him to become the Heir. He doesn't know, which makes him feel worse but he does know what lust looks like.

It's one that Ra's has aimed at him for too long.

He may as well get this over with. Learn as much as he can. Plan an escape. The best way to do all that is to simply ask.

"When is the wedding?"

Frostbite freezes. "I beg your pardon? Whos wedding?"

"Th Great One and mine" because the madman would never allow a bastard to inherit his empire.

"You and the Great One....are paramours?" Frostbite sounds awe. Shoot his medic doesn't know anything. The Yeti is likely low ranking.

Tim looks away, and the giant white creature jerks into action. "I apologize for not treating the Great One's beloved properly. I shall have servants bring up a meal while you soak. And the finest robe we have! Sweets and messages....offers of gold?....humans always like gold."

He waits until the Yeti leaves, mumbles of giving him the royal treatment echoing in his wake. Tim sighs, sinking into the water. He knows he is being watched as that's what he would do, so for now he needs to stay put and heal.

He's never going to get Bruce back if he acts too rashly without knowing where he is and what else Ra has under his control. Yetis were no easy feat to beat on his own. He like to avoid....a vampire or something too.

Half an hour later, FrostBite returns with the promised meal and change of clothes. Smaller Yetis help him dress in threads of the finest silks. They feel like heaven on his sensitive skin. Tim feels soft and warm all over, pampered beyond belief.

It's been so long since he just had a moment to rest.

He asks for a walk which he is only permitted after Frostbites clears him. It's while he is wandering that he realizes he is in some winter castle. Everywhere he looks, there is ice, snow, and yetis.

He notices all the guards and makes mental maps of possible weak spots. He wonders why he's not freezing despite only being in a thin silk robe. A form of magic?

A few yetis- servants he can tell by their mannerisms- bow as he wanders about. He can't tell where he is based on the sun or the environment. It's....somehow different.

"That's him?" A young female voice asks. He turns his head slightly to catch the speaker in his provisional vision. It's one of the smaller Yetis....he assumes she's a child? Hard to tell when she still towers over him. "The Great One's future spouse?"

"Yes, I heard King Frostbite, himself, tell the Head Butler"

"He's weak," another Yeti says with disapproval. He sounds male but young as well. Not even a teenager. "He does not even have a core."

"He is a human." A much older voice replies. She sounds like Tim's age based on vocal cords. "Humans are not meant to have cores. Despite this he is a formidable fighter. He has to be to have attracted the Great One's eye."

"Maybe not. I heard humans enjoy being cared for like children. They even call partners things like Mommy and Daddy."

"Why?" The boy Yeti sounds horrified.

"Apparently it's seen as attractive"

"That's disgusting."

Tim turns a corner cutting off the conversation as the Yetis snap to attention. They bow low at the waist as he walks by.

He nods at them, which seems to startle a lot of them. Not that he's surprised. The AL Ghuls likely treated them like decorations and never fully acknowledged them.

Tim barely hears the young boy gasp. "He's beautiful."

"That's likely why the Great One is so bestowed."

Tim sighs walking back to his room with a escape plan half formed.

Elsewhere, the rumor mill in the Ghost Zone is running over time as news of King Phantom's human husband-to-be is spread far and wide. Leaders of the Ghost Zone quickly prepare for a ball that will likely be called to celebrate the union.

They have gifts gathered, each wanting to gain favor with the King. The Far Frozen gets overwhelming requests to visit the future Consort, but seeing as King Phantom had to return to the human world, thus leaving his fiancé in their care, they reject all. They do not want the boy to be overwhelmed or caught unawares if he is not tried in any form of politics.

It would not allow him to become a threat to the King's authority's pawn.

This led to even more rumors starting.

By the time they reached John Constine- the only human who has any form of contact with the Realms- the word is that King Phantom's human was currently carrying their child, wanting to marry before the baby was born, and that he was running from a group of humans known as "The Bats."

He was as beautiful as the King Phantom was powerful- which meant he was utterly breathtaking for a human- and that King Phantom was currently in the human world hunting down those who threaten his family.

Across the dimension plane, Danny is blissfully unaware of the misunderstanding as he is busy filling out college scholarship applications. He has only one more year before he graduates, but he would like to go somewhere away from Amity Park.

The Wayne Scholarship is a long and lengthy process, but it will be worth it. A full ride with board and meals? Yes, the housing will be in Gotham but it's a small price to pay.

He wonders if his number one fan has awakened. Frostbite would have contacted him if his guest had escaped the coma.

Tim Drake had been asleep for nearly a week, only kept healthy due to Danny bathing him in his Protective Core ectoplasm and the Yeti's multi-species medical knowledge. As it were, Tim appeared to only be taking a small nap, none of the adverse effects of long slumber appearing on his thin body, but Danny was getting worried.

At this point, he didn't even care how Tim knew his secret. He just wanted him to be alright.

A flash of green light causes Danny to spring away from his laptop, body falling into a natural fighter's stance only to blink at the giant gift wrap present laying on his bed. Cautiously he inspects the gift finding it from Princess Dora.

"May your love lead the Realms into a wonderous future, and may your union bear many children." He reads the small note she had attracted to her gift "What children?"

Pulling open the gift, he stares at two sets of King robes decorated with rubies shaped into snowflakes. More miniature robes and a few booties surround the pair, obviously meant as a family gift.

Tuck to the side of the box is a long and deadly-looking sword. It's pitch black, with a scull as a handle. Dora had tired a scroll to its blade, where she had written My armies are ready to yield to you. You need only to swing this sword, and they shall come to your aid. The Bats will not harm your treasure.

What in the world?

[cherienymphe]

Borderline (JJ Maybank x Reader)

Warnings: NON-CON, DUB-CON, jealousy, seemingly unrequited feelings, secret relationship, semi public sex, non canon ages, underage drinking

➥ banner by @vase-of-lilies​ | divider by @silkholland​​

summary: The three times you had sex with your best friend...and the one time you didn’t.

~

JJ’s hips pressed into yours, his bare chest brushing against your own with every thrust. His blond hair was damp from both water and sweat, not an unusual look for him, but seeing him from this angle? Yes, that was pretty unusual for you. You gasped when his cock hit a sensitive spot in you, clenching around him and pressing your fingers into his arm. The action made him hiss, and he leaned in to nip the skin of your chin with his teeth.

Having sex with your best friend in the back of your other friend’s van was not planned.

Ever.

You and JJ were as thick as thieves, and partners in crime were all you had ever been. Breaking into buildings together, jumping off of boats together, and even getting into fights together. If he couldn’t count on anyone to back up whatever stupid idea he’d concocted, JJ knew he could count on you. You were always happy to go along with whatever…except for this.

As he pressed a hand into your stomach, holding you down and in place to take his thrusts, you fought to remember how you’d gotten in this position in the first place. You squeezed your eyes shut, trying to wrack your brain and think about what you’d been talking about only an hour ago. It was so hard to do with JJ pushing into you and making you lose your train of thought.

You’d been talking about some Pogue, some Pogue you’d been seeing and the way he’d practically begged you to take him back at the ice cream shop. He was nice enough and cute enough, but the relationship, if it could even be called that, hadn’t been going anywhere. JJ wasn’t supposed to be listening in, but he’d never done what he was supposed to a day in his life.

“That sounded awkward,” he’d said, glancing at you and taking his eyes off of the road. “Poor guy was basically offering his soul to get back together with you.”

You’d rolled your eyes, grumbling to yourself and annoyed with him for eavesdropping.

“You got the holy grail between those legs of yours or what?” he’d teased, poking your side with a chuckle and you’d slapped his hand away.

“Don’t be gross,” you’d complained. “Believe it or not, but I’m actually a great girlfriend, JJ. Sometimes people are sad to see me go.”

You hadn’t had the chance to hear his response because one of the front tires on the Twinkie blew, forcing JJ to pull off of the road and into the grass. Between his anger at discovering John B.’s lack of care to keep a spare tire and John B.’s anger at discovering JJ blew one, your ex had been the last thing on either of your minds then. At least, that was the case for you.

You were both sitting in the back of the van and waiting for John B. and Pope to show up with his dad’s truck and a tire when JJ brought it up again.

“Pervert comment aside, I was serious, you know.”

You’d turned to him, a questioning look in your eyes. Seeing that you had no idea what he was talking about, the blond had rolled his eyes, pushing his hair away from his face and trying to keep cool in this heat.

“Any guy you date always acts like it’s the end of the world when you break up with them,” he’d explained, and your mouth had fallen open in offense.

“That’s not true,” you’d scoffed. “I resent that.”

JJ had chuckled to himself, shaking his head.

“It’s so true. We talk about it all the time,” he’d laughed.

You’d straightened at that, frowning at him. We? Did he mean ‘we’ as in him and your friends sans you? That was news that you found hard to believe, and you told him, and JJ shook his head.

“No, we do,” he’d drawled, half laying down with his head against the inside of the van and one leg bent. “Not all the time obviously, but sometimes to just laugh at the lovesick fools you leave in the dust.”

“You make me sound like some kind of man-eater,” you’d mumbled. “…and I’m not. I just… I don’t know.”

You’d shrugged, not liking this conversation.

“When I’m not happy, I leave. I’m not one of those people to stay just to say I have a boyfriend or something. Sorry,” you’d pointedly said, thinking hard about what he’d told you.

It was then that JJ could tell you were genuinely a little bothered, and he’d sat up, hurrying to move closer.

“Hey, hey, no. It’s meant to be funny,” he’d assured you. “We don’t mean anything by it.”

You knew that. It still didn’t stop it from bothering you a little though, wondering if that was how other people viewed you since your own friends did.

“I know you don’t,” you’d sighed. “I’m being silly, I know, but now you’re just making me rethink my methods, I guess.”

JJ huffed, scooting closer to you until his shoulder brushed yours.

“It’s not your methods we’re laughing at, I promise,” he’d lightly said, bumping your shoulder with his. “We just think it’s funny how you seem to give these guys the best time of their lives that they’re always ready to beg for you back on their knees.”

You’d given him a look at that, and JJ wiggled his eyebrows.

“I’m not talking to you about that,” you’d chuckled. “Who do you think I am? Pope?”

“I’m just saying,” he’d dragged out. “I don’t think I’ve ever slept with any girl that had me down that bad.”

JJ was laughing to himself, and your smile fell a bit, eyeing him with a frown. You could feel it deepening the longer you stared at him, and you’d suddenly reared back a little.

“You sound almost curious,” you’d blurted out, a light laugh in your throat as you shook your head at him.

You knew that wasn’t true, but the thought had been funny, nonetheless. However, you hadn’t expected there to be any truth to that, let alone the actual truth.

“Maybe I am.”

JJ’s words had shocked you, making you freeze in place, and his even expression didn’t match your horrified frown, at all.

“Be serious,” you’d said after a while, feeling like you were in the midst of some elaborate joke.

Your best friend tilted his head at you, arms resting on his knees as he ran his gaze over your face.

“What makes you think I’m not?”

The lack of humor on JJ’s face had stumped you, and you blinked at him. For a moment, words escaped you, and the van felt entirely too small and entirely too quiet as you just stared at each other.

“JJ,” you’d slowly said, lightly hitting his arm. “Come on…”

He’d taken your hand, making your stomach drop, and your eyes widened as he fully turned to face you. There was a glint in his eye that you’d never seen before. At least, not directed at you.

“Come on what? I can’t be curious?” he wondered, voice dropping.

“No, you can’t,” you’d almost yelled, pulling your hand away and looking away in disbelief. “You’re my best friend. I bet you don’t wonder what John B. is like in bed.”

“I might! You don’t know that…”

You’d rolled your eyes at him, prepared to pretend this weird turn of events had never happened when you felt his fingers brushing your jaw. You had turned to face him in shock, eyes wide as he touched you with a gentleness that felt strange. JJ was your best friend, and his blue eyes were drinking you in in a way that felt suffocating.

“JJ…”

You could see him leaning in, and you hadn’t exactly done anything to stop it. In truth, you didn’t know why. JJ had never been anything but your best friend, never even tempted to think of him in that way. Finding out that wasn’t the case for him was shocking, sure, but not enough to keep you from pushing him away at the very least.

His lips brushing against yours had your heart skipping a beat, and for a few seconds, you didn’t kiss him back. You just sat there, letting him kiss you and getting the feel of his skin on yours in a way that was foreign. You’d blinked just as JJ deepened the kiss, clearly taking your lack of action as the okay, and you hadn’t been able to swallow down your gasp. When you hesitantly kissed him back, you’d felt JJ’s hand on the small of your back, the other fingering the strap of your top.

Everything after had been a mess of lips on lips, hands pulling at clothes, and finally skin on skin.

Your eyes flew open at a particularly hard thrust, JJ’s cock stretching you out so addictingly. Sweat clung to your skin, your clothes thrown somewhere in John B.’s van, and you couldn’t even find it in you to care about how hot it was. JJ’s hands were wrapped around your calves now, your feet pressed against his stomach as he slid into you over and over.

It was so hard to breathe for multiple reasons, but especially because you were having the best sex of your life and it was because of your best friend. The thought was enough to completely drag you out of the moment. It felt weird and good at the same time, and you couldn’t understand how that was. You couldn’t even find it in you to feel guilty over making a mess of your friend’s vehicle, feeling yourself dripping around JJ and smearing down your skin.

You’d actually almost forgotten that your friends were on the way with help and another tire. You’d almost forgotten they existed entirely until you heard JJ’s phone vibrating. You were on top of him, now, hands pressed into his shoulder and pushing yourself down onto his cock, fucking yourself onto him and chasing your high.

“They said they’re down the street,” he panted, one hand pressed into your waist while the other held his phone. “They’re close.”

As he said that, you could feel yourself getting close too, and your eyes rolled as you circled your hips.

“Fuck,” JJ breathed, and you could feel his eyes on you, but you were too preoccupied with coming.

When you finally did, you literally froze, lips falling open and a choked moan escaping just as you felt JJ’s hands tighten on you. Your nails were pressing into his skin, but if the way he deeply moaned was anything to go by, he didn’t seem to care. You could feel him stilling too, twitching inside of you, and the feel had you shuddering.

He was lazily moving your hips over his as you milked him, and you literally whined when you were forced to move off of him. Your back met the floor of the van, and you stared up at the ceiling, blinking in disbelief. You could faintly hear JJ hurrying to get dressed, but you couldn’t move.

You’d just had sex with your best friend…and it was great.

You felt yourself frowning, a myriad of emotions washing over you as you tried to process this. It didn’t seem real, and yet, the evidence was quite literally on you and in you. JJ called your name, and you realized he’d called it several times. You looked at him as he put your clothes in your hand, hurrying to help you sit up, and you felt like you were in a daze.

“Hey, hey,” he said, touching your face and making you look into his eyes. “We gotta get dressed, okay?”

He was right, and yet that still didn’t stop you from running your eyes over him, drinking him in. He both looked and didn’t look like your best friend, and it was an odd thought to wrap your head around. You couldn’t believe what you’d just done, and deciding that now was not the time to analyze your actions and the ramifications of them, you got dressed.

“Fuck, baby…”

JJ’s breathless voice in your ear only made you wetter, and you pushed back to meet his thrusts.

It had been weeks, almost three months actually, since the incident. That was what you liked to call it because what else could you possibly refer to it as? How else would you identify the day in which JJ had convinced you to sleep with him in the back of the Twinkie? What could you possibly call the day in which you realized that JJ’s feelings about you weren’t always so platonic, and that sometimes, just sometimes, he was actually very curious about what his best friend was like in bed?

You had thought that it would be weird, disastrous even. You had actually cried yourself to sleep that same night, so scared that you’d made a huge mistake and that it would ruin your friendship with JJ forever. You’d told yourself that you should’ve spoken up, been the voice of reason when you were both careless and clearly delirious from heat.

After all, some moments of pleasure were never worth the loss of a friendship.

However, when JJ had shown up at your door the next morning, dressed and looking like his normal self as he offered to drive you to John B.’s like he often did, you got the sense that maybe you’d overreacted. Nothing about his words, tone, or expression had even hinted at what had taken place the previous day, and you’d actually frowned.

Somewhat dazed, you had nodded with a small okay, telling him you needed to get dressed. You had given him a strange look when he came inside, flopping on your couch and scrolling through his phone like everything was normal. Like shit was sweet.

Shit wasn’t sweet.

You and your best friend had quite literally rocked the van, and he was pretending like it never happened.

“Um…JJ,” you’d said when you followed him outside.

He’d been in the process of climbing onto his bike, and he’d turned to look at you, face inquiring. You had actually scoffed, crossing your arms over your chest.

“Are you just…going to pretend like yesterday never happened or…?”

He’d blinked at your words, features softening some as he climbed off of his bike. You’d swallowed at his close proximity, kind of unsure of how to act around him, now. He looked the same as he always did, but it was so different, now. You’d held that blond hair as he kissed down your frame. You’d looked into those blue eyes as he’d pinned you between him and the floor of the van. You’d held onto those arms as you came around each other.

You didn’t know how to pretend like you hadn’t.

“I didn’t think you’d want it to ruin our friendship,” he’d finally said.

“I don’t,” you had spoken up, straightening. “That’s the last thing I want, but…I don’t know. You’re pretending like it didn’t happen. Aren’t we going to at least talk about it?”

“…and say what? That it was great? That you were great?” he’d moved closer, looking at you from beneath his lashes. “…because you were.”

You’d swallowed at that, glancing away and feeling heated.

“Look, I know that it wasn’t your idea of how to spend the afternoon, and I just feel a little bad.”

You’d frowned at his confession.

“JJ, I’m an adult. If I didn’t want to have sex with you, I could’ve said so,” you’d told him, shoulders sagging. “No…it definitely wasn’t my first choice of how to pass the time, but I don’t think I regret it. Not unless it’s going to make things weird…”

You were trying your hardest to prevent that from happening, and when JJ chuckled, you did too.

“We were friends, and we’re still friends. Just friends who had sex one afternoon in a hot van,” he’d said with a shrug.

The way he’d worded it had made you feel better, and you were relieved when he pulled you into a hug. After hugging him back, you’d happily climbed onto the back of his bike, writing the previous afternoon off as that weird day when you and JJ decided to have sex.

He was right, of course.

You and JJ were still the best of friends who just happened to fuck each other one time. Once you were around the rest of your friends, it was easy to relax and sink back into familiar dynamics. You were teasing each other and throwing things at each other and finishing each other’s sentences again in record time. While there’d been the stray thought or two that your friends would be able to tell what went down between you two, that had soon passed after about a week.

After a month, it really did seem like nothing even happened.

You couldn’t deny that it had crossed your mind on occasion. After all, it was hard to look at your best friend and ignore the fact that you’d had sex with him. It was usually a stray thought in passing, like a little reminder notification in your head, and sometimes it was accompanied by the afterthought that it was the best sex you’d had. That was still something you had a hard time grasping, but it wasn’t long before even that fact didn’t feel weird to you.

Nights at The Chateau and on boats had accumulated into literal months since that day. It was something that you really didn’t even think about, now. Not when JJ hugged you or when he pinched your side or even when he held you close with an arm around your neck. Why would you? Nothing about your friendship had changed, something you were beyond grateful for.

So, it was kind of a shock to you when JJ had cornered you against John B.’s fridge one evening.

You were getting something to drink, and you’d gasped when you felt a chin suddenly resting in the crook of your shoulder, a chest pressed to your back. He’d startled you more than anything, and JJ had laughed to himself at your reaction.

“Anything good in there?”

Your answer was on the tip of your tongue when you felt his hand on your waist, fingers kneading into your skin where your shirt had ridden up. You’d frowned to yourself, stomach twisting a bit before slowly pushing his hand away.

“Just the usual,” you’d dragged out, slipping from between him and the fridge.

You were making your way past him when he reached out, a finger hooking in your belt loop as he gently pulled you back. You’d given him an odd look as he pulled you closer, a nervous chuckle escaping. His blue eyes were fixated on you, and he’d pulled his lip between his teeth as your frown deepened.

“JJ…what are you doing?” you’d slowly asked, worriedly eyeing him.

Your question had made him pause, pressing his lips together as he stared at you. You’d watched him blink, his face pinching together just a tad before he’d let you go. If you had known better, you would’ve noted how reluctant he’d seemed to do so. The air had felt so weird as you studied him, and just like that, he’d chuckled and broke the spell.

You had watched him scratch the back of his head.

“I don’t know,” he’d confessed, shaking his head before brushing past you, throwing a small sorry over his shoulder.

That had been days ago, and as much as the interaction had concerned you, you’d forced yourself to let it go. You’d been glad you did because in the days that followed, it was like it’d never even happened…

…but then JJ had driven you home...and he’d gotten off of his bike with you, and before you’d been able to thank him…he’d kissed you.

So shocked by it, you had stumbled back, looking at him with wide eyes. It was hard to place the look on his face, like he was confused by his actions just as much as you were, but it didn’t stop him from reaching out and gently taking your arm.

“JJ, what-?”

“I don’t…I don’t know,” he’d softly mumbled, moving closer as he pulled you closer. “I don’t know.”

He kept repeating that as he leaned in, kissing you again, and his breath was shaky as he did. You’d placed your hand on his chest, and he reached up, holding it there as he moved his mouth against yours. Before, you’d told yourself you should’ve been the voice of reason, recalling how scared you’d been that night that your friendship as you knew it was over. You didn’t want a repeat of that, nor did you want that to come true, and so you’d pulled back.

“JJ, we can’t-.”

“Why?” he’d breathed, licking his lips. “…because we’re friends?”

“Yes,” you’d slowly told him. “…and I want to stay friends.”

The desperation in his gaze threw you.

“We did it before, and we’re still friends…”

You’d faltered at that, looking away when JJ had forced you to look back at him. One of his hands slid down to your waist, trailing over your back and side, and you shuddered at the feel. You could hear how uneven his breathing was.

“I…haven’t really stopped thinking about that day,” he confessed, making your heart skip a beat.

“What? Y-you said…”

“I know what I said,” he blurted out. “I know, but…”

JJ leaned in, nipping at your bottom lip before kissing you again.

“I want you so bad,” he breathed against your lips. “You get me so hard, and you don’t even know it.”

All of this was overwhelming news to you, and when JJ deepened the kiss, you could feel yourself traveling back to that afternoon in the Twinkie. The voice of reason in your head was fighting against the heated feeling that was slowly consuming you. You were thinking of what his skin had felt like on yours, what his hands had felt like on you, and what he’d felt like inside of you.

This wasn’t supposed to happen again.

Never mind the fact that you and JJ were friends, but you weren’t this kind of girl. Casual sex was never and had never been your thing. You liked relationships, always had. You liked having boyfriends, and getting flowers and gifts, and having sex with someone you could call yours. You’d written that afternoon off as the one wild thing you’d do for the next three years.

It wasn’t supposed to happen again.

…and yet, you found yourself leaning on JJ’s bike, one leg raised with your knee resting on the seat as he pushed into you from behind. Your shorts were around one ankle, your underwear long ripped off, and JJ’s hands were curled into your hips as he dipped his cock into you.

You couldn’t even stop yourself from gasping and moaning, trembling at the feeling of him fucking you from this angle. The bike shook from his movements, and one of his hands moved to hold it steady. His lips grazed your ear, and despite the fact that he was literally inside of you, you were still supposed to be just friends, but the words he whispered didn’t indicate that, at all.

“You’re so tight,” he groaned, cursing when he sank into you again. “I’ve been thinking about this all week, you know that?”

You suddenly thought about that day at John B.’s, JJ’s weird behavior, and you frowned through the haze.

“Just wanted to feel you wrapped around me…choking me…sucking me dry…”

A high-pitched gasp escaped your lips, and you struggled to stay upright. The sound of skin slapping against skin could be heard in your yard, and you prayed to whoever was listening that your neighbors didn’t decide to get curious today of all days.

JJ’s free hand traveled along your frame. Kneading your waist, squeezing your breast, curling around your throat. It was too much, and to your surprise, you could feel yourself coming. If JJ was shocked too, he didn’t show it, fucking you through it and turning you into a babbling mess. You were so wet, the sound of it meeting your ears every time JJ pushed his cock into you, completely sheathing himself inside of your walls, determined to find his release there.

You were meeting him thrust for thrust, determined to come again. You felt like a woman possessed, fucking yourself onto him and squeezing his cock. You didn’t even care that you were fucking your best friend again, only concerned with wanting to feel him come inside of you. The aftermath was something you couldn’t focus on, right now, and you knew you’d come to regret that line of thinking. When JJ came, he came before you this time, spilling into you and pushing into you so hard it jostled his bike.

The feel of him coating your walls sent you over the edge, squeezing him so tight that he cursed over and over, hand tightening on your neck as you struggled to breathe. You saw stars, and unlike last time, there was no rush to get dressed. JJ remained inside of you for a while, just holding himself there and basking in the aftermath of what you just did…again.

When he finally did pull out, you weren’t as dazed this time.

Instead, you frowned.

You were still shaking as you pulled up your shorts, a million thoughts running through your head. What did this mean? What were you? Were you friends who just happened to have sex twice…or did JJ intend for this to be a regular thing? You couldn’t stomach the latter, knowing the kind of girl you were and hating yourself for going against what you knew you were comfortable with.

You couldn’t bring yourself to look at him.

One time could be a mistake, a lapse of judgement or just an afternoon of fun, never to be repeated. Twice? Twice was a choice on both your parts. JJ for making the move again, and you for allowing it. You stepped away from him when you were fully dressed, and you didn’t know what to say. You could still feel him in you, both figuratively and literally, cringing at the way he dripped out of you and into your shorts.

He was saying something about hanging out at Sarah’s place tomorrow, but you couldn’t really focus on it. You were too in your own head, but JJ didn’t seem to notice, leaning over to place a brief kiss to your lips before starting his bike. You watched him drive away, and you found yourself feeling incredibly…alone.

You sipped on your drink with a frown, heart clenching at the sight before you. The sound of partygoers would’ve normally been music to your ears, but all you wanted in this moment was some time with your own thoughts. That and to be far away from JJ Maybank.

Realizing your cup was now empty, you forced yourself to look away from the sight before you. You turned your back on blond and blonder, stumbling across the beach to get another drink. You almost tripped over your own feet and probably would have if it weren’t for Kie.

“Woah, hey! You okay…?”

She steadied you, and when you glanced up, the concern in her eyes was evident. You’d never been much of a drinker, and especially not to the point of inebriation, but you weren’t exactly yourself. You hadn’t felt like yourself for a while, now.

“I’m fine,” you told her, but it was a lie.

You weren’t fine.

You were in love with your best friend…and it was all his fault.

JJ had always been attractive. Even if that had never meant anything of consequence to you, you could still admit it. He was funny, charismatic, kind, and way too forgiving for his own good. He was always the life of the party, and he’d never failed to make you smile. He’d always been that way, so none of that was enough to make you fall for the guy, but then he had to go and start having sex with you.

Granted, it only happened twice, but twice was enough.

You weren’t a casual girl. You didn’t even know how to go about being a casual girl, and now that he’d added sex to your dynamic, it was hard to keep seeing him as your same best friend. It was hard not to stare, not to linger on the way his laugh traveled through the air or the way he shook his hair out of his face when it got wet. You’d found yourself drinking him in on more than one occasion when he was fixing his bike, swallowing at the sight of his stomach when he used his shirt to wipe his face.

In the months since the last time you’d had sex, it had snuck up on you.

You felt more excited to see him more than any of your other friends. You found yourself hanging onto his every word, and when you weren’t with him, you’d absentmindedly wonder what he was doing…and who he was doing it with. The thought always made your stomach turn, and you’d get the feeling like you’d be sick.

Like now, for example.

You poured yourself another drink, frowning at how close he and some girl were standing. They hadn’t stopped smiling since they met, and you wondered to yourself just what was so damn funny. You blinked back tears as you downed the drink in seconds, quickly getting another. You ignored Kie’s voice as you disappeared into the crowd, wanting to be as far away from JJ as possible.

You felt so stupid…because you knew this would happen.

You knew yourself, and you knew this would happen, but no. You just had to listen to JJ and let him in your head and convince you that everything would remain the same. Now, here you were, months later and dreaming about and sulking over your best friend. Every time he so much as touched you these days, it was almost enough to do you in. You were torn between feeling grateful you hadn’t had sex with him again since that evening in your yard or feeling sad that you hadn’t.

“Woah, hey, where…where are you going?” John B. wondered as you moved past him and Sarah.

“Home,” was all you said.

You could hear footsteps behind you, and you grumbled when the brunette stopped you.

“Like this? Y/N, you’re so drunk,” Sarah said from beside him, reaching for your drink.

You gave her a look as you held it out of reach, daring her to try and take it. She threw John B. a pleading look, and he sighed.

“It’s getting late,” he said. “Why don’t we all just call it a night, and you can crash at my place…”

You both loved and hated the sound of that, but your desire to collapse and cry yourself to sleep won. You reluctantly nodded, allowing Sarah to take your hand as John B. disappeared behind you. You weren’t in a talkative mood, and you were so glad that Sarah respected that. She was helping you into the van when you heard the last voice you wanted to hear.

“Why did you let her drink that much?”

“I’m not a child,” you answered before John B. could.

Everyone seemed shocked at your tone, but you couldn’t find it in you to care, opting to lie down. You closed your eyes, ignoring everyone until you felt a jacket being placed on you. The smell of it was familiar, and you didn’t even open your eyes as you shook it off.

“Y/N, it’s like 60 degrees-.”

“Why are you even here?” you wondered, opening your eyes and fixing your gaze on JJ. “What happened to your girl of the night?”

The blond didn’t respond right away, looking at you strangely, and for a moment, you almost thought he could see right through you. It made your heart skip a beat, and he slowly shook his head.

“That wasn’t…that wasn’t anything. Besides, even if it was, you’re drunk,” he said, like you were more important or something.

You rolled your eyes at that, closing them and forcing back tears.

This wasn’t like you. At all. You didn’t cry over guys and get so drunk you could barely stand and snap at your friends. JJ was turning you into someone you didn’t recognize, and you hated it. A year ago, your friendship was as strong as it could’ve been, and now…now you could barely look at him. Before, you wouldn’t have even given a second glance to JJ and some girl, but now the thought was almost enough to send you spiraling.

Why did JJ even have sex with you in the first place?

Everything was fine.

When you blinked, you took in the change of scenery, and it wasn’t hard to guess that you’d fallen asleep somewhere along the way. You were in a familiar living room, and you didn’t need to sit up to know you were on a familiar couch. How you got there was a mystery, and you could faintly hear the voices of your friends from down by the water.

You wouldn’t be joining them, preferring to isolate yourself, and the thought made your eyes water. This thing with JJ was even affecting your other friendships, and you sniffed, sitting up. Your mouth felt so dry, and you were just about to journey to find some water when you were startled.

“You wanna tell me what’s wrong with you?”

You jumped at the familiar voice, and you pressed your hand to your chest. You hadn’t even noticed JJ to your left, lounging in the dark like some creeper. You didn’t answer him, simply huffing and attempting to stand. You probably would’ve collapsed if it weren’t for the blond.

“Nothing is wrong-.”

“I don’t think I can ever remember a time when you were drunk…especially this drunk.”

“Why do you care?” you loudly wondered.

You didn’t miss the frown that covered his features, and you knew you were being a bitch. JJ was your best friend…of course he cared, but you were so lovesick and frustrated and drunk and angry that you weren’t thinking straight. Sleeping with JJ had changed too much for you because now you wanted him to care about you the same way you cared about him…and because he didn’t…sometimes it felt like he didn’t care, at all.

…and that wasn’t true.

“Of course, I care,” he softly said, forcing you to sit down.

He sat down with you.

“You’re my best friend…”

Those words had you closing your eyes, and you couldn’t stop your head from dropping.

“Hey…” you felt his hands on you. “What’s wrong?”

You could only shake your head, and you felt his hands on your face, now.

“JJ…”

You always told each other everything, but your relationship with him was so different, now, and you genuinely didn’t know how he’d react if you told him the truth. You didn’t think you could take it if he got that look on his face, the one where he looked both sheepish and in pain all at once, before telling you he didn’t feel the same. You knew it was true, but you couldn’t handle it if he told you outright he’d only wanted you for sex.

In your drunken state, you couldn’t handle that…so you kissed him instead.

If JJ was surprised, you couldn’t tell. Especially not with the way his hands tightened on your face. The presence of your friends right outside and down by the water was so far from your mind. Your drunken brain could only focus on JJ’s hands running down your sides and pulling at your dress. He seemed just as eager to be inside of you as you were to feel him there. You let out a sharp moan when his fingers brushed over you, and the blond shushed you.

“You have to be quiet,” he whispered, fumbling to release himself.

You pulled on his shirt as you laid down, pulling him on top of you, and you shuddered when you felt the tip of him poking against you. He was so hard already, and your heart clenched as you wondered if that was for you or leftover from her. JJ’s lips were hungry against yours as he reached down to push your panties to the side.

Your mouth parted into an O shape against his lips as he slowly pushed into you. It had been months since he’d stretched you out this good, and you almost couldn’t contain yourself. When he was fully inside, hips firmly pressed to yours, he held himself there for a while. It was as if he was basking in something he’d missed too, and you were too impatient, lifting your hips against his and letting out a small whine.

At that, JJ pressed his hand to your mouth before pulling his hips back. Only the tip of him remained inside of you before he surged forward, pushing into you with a force that made your eyes roll. Your fingers tightened in his shirt, and you breathed through your nose.

Every push of his cock had you shuddering and clenching around him, missing this and him so much. You felt so full when JJ was fucking you, more than you had with any of your previous boyfriends and the thought had you faltering.

JJ wasn’t your boyfriend.

He never would be, and as he fucked you against John B.’s couch, a few tears escaped. You wanted him to be, but this was just sex. That had been established since the beginning, and it was your fault for giving into something you knew you weren’t cut out for.

You felt like you couldn’t get close enough to JJ, wrapping your legs around him and lifting your hips to meet his thrusts. His fingers were digging into you and holding you so tight there was no doubt they’d bruise. His face was in the crook of your neck as he curved his hips into yours, breathing labored as he stuffed you full of his cock.

When he lifted his head, he removed his hand, kissing you on the lips before his lips traveled to your cheek and then jaw and then neck. He was kissing you and tasting you, and you couldn’t stop yourself from shuddering at the words that escaped his lips.

“You feel just like heaven,” he breathed. “You always do.”

You softly moaned his name, wrapping your arms around him and holding onto him.

“Always keep this pretty pussy nice and tight just for me,” he mumbled. “…always fit me so perfectly.”

He was murmuring incoherently, fucking you and kissing you and biting you. You could hear the squelch of him plunging into you, gasping as he hit something inside of you that made your back arch and toes curl. You were so drunk and he felt so good and you were on cloud 9.

“JJ…” you breathed. “I have… I have to tell…”

You trailed off, sinking your teeth into your lip to swallow down a moan. You were shaking beneath him, legs falling from around him, now as you let him fuck you. You moved your hand, reaching under his shirt too run your fingers across his torso.

“Oh my God,” you gasped, head thrown back as he grinded against you. “JJ, I have to tell you something.”

He cursed, looking down to where he disappeared into you.

“Fuck,” he hissed, slowly pushing into you. “You can tell me tomorrow.”

You wanted to tell him, now, but you could feel yourself hurdling towards the edge, and your drunken brain was too focused on trying to remain quiet. JJ’s hand covered your mouth again as he felt you getting close, his face buried into your neck as he became determined to make you come.

You kept your eyes on your drink, the same drink you’d had for the better part of an hour. Ever since that night a few weeks ago, you’d been kind of scared of alcohol, and ever since that night days ago, you’d been scared of JJ. Not genuinely, of course, but you couldn’t bring yourself to be around him and act the same around him.

You still remembered the feel of his hand on your waist in the water. Everyone else had gone inside, oblivious to your pleading gaze as the last thing you wanted was to be alone with JJ. Not because you were afraid you’d have sex with him again, but because of the opposite.

Waking up alone and still in your clothes from the previous night on John B.’s couch hadn’t made you feel as worse as knowing that you’d had sex with JJ again, and this time, you were the one to initiate it. The level of disappointment you’d felt had been astronomical, and you’d wanted to cry for being so weak and pathetic and cowardly.

You’d had sex because it was easier than telling him you were in love with him.

It was easier than facing rejection.

You’d officially hit rock bottom, and it was that morning that you’d decided something had to give. You’d gone straight home to shower, and you’d developed some resolve by the time you got out, telling yourself that this couldn’t go on like this forever.

Seeing JJ after that third night had definitely felt like a punch to the gut, but you told yourself you needed to get over this. He acted the same as he always had, you guessed, and you swallowed down any feelings that arose when he hugged you or grabbed you. You reminded yourself that once upon a time, you’d felt nothing at all at his touch, and that it needed to be that way again.

You’d been mentally preparing yourself to have the inevitable talk whenever that came up again.

You hadn’t expected to have it so soon.

Before, where there’d been literal months in between, this time, it was only mere weeks. His hand on your waist in the water after everyone else had gone inside had startled you, and while the sight of his wolfish grin did elicit butterflies, it also made your stomach churn in a negative way too. It was hard to miss the slight from on JJ’s face when you’d pulled away.

You’d been able to hear him following you to the edge and out of the water.

“What’s wrong?” he’d wondered, and you’d swallowed, slightly miffed because you thought you’d had more time.

JJ had never wanted to have sex again so soon, and you didn’t want to linger on what that could mean. It was just sex to him, anyway, and you didn’t doubt that he’d be disappointed, but you knew he’d get over it. For the sake of your friendship, you both needed to get over it.

“I don’t really want to do that anymore, JJ,” you’d slowly murmured, grabbing your towel.

The silence that met you was loud, and when you looked over, you confirmed that he was deeply frowning at you. It was hard to place the look on his face, but the surprise was easy enough to spot, and you wrapped your towel around you as he came near. Water dripped from his blond hair and down his face and onto his chest.

“I don’t… I don’t get it,” he lightly chuckled, but it lacked humor. “I thought everything was fine. Did I do something-?”

“No,” you had assured him, shaking your head. “You didn’t do anything wrong, trust me.”

You’d watched him run his hand through his hair, pushing it out of his face as he studied you. His blue eyes hadn’t looked so warm then, and he’d scoffed.

“The old ‘it’s not you it’s me’ thing, huh,” he’d drawled, rolling his eyes towards the sky. “I thought we were friends.”

“We are…”

“Then why aren’t you being honest?”

“I am,” you’d firmly told him. “I don’t want that anymore, JJ.”

You’d shrugged, glancing away.

“It was fun…sure, but we knew it couldn’t last and…”

“That’s the best you’ve got?” he’d wondered, tilting his head. “It couldn’t last so might as well end it, now, right?”

If you hadn’t known better, you would’ve said that he was angry, and his reaction confused you. You’d shaken your head at him, holding your towel around him.

“Why does it matter? It’s just sex to you, right?”

JJ had blinked at that, like he’d forgotten that, and you’d pulled your lip between your teeth. The whole ordeal was hard enough, and you hadn’t understood why JJ was making it harder. When he hadn’t said anything more, only nodding, you’d finally decided to join your friends inside.

That had been days ago, and your hopes that things would go back to normal had been squashed when JJ had been giving you the equivalent of the cold shoulder ever since. He wasn’t cruel, of course, and it certainly wasn’t noticeable by anyone else…but you knew.

You knew it in the way he didn’t direct his jokes towards you or in the way he didn’t hug you anymore or how he didn’t even offer to drive you home. It was little changes that completely flipped what you knew of your friendship, and it had taken you by surprise.

…because JJ was mad at you.

…and you didn’t know why.

Your friendship had wound up in the one place you hadn’t wanted it to be, and more than you ever had before, you desperately wished you had never slept with him in the first place. Here you were, at a party and fighting with your best friend, only you couldn’t understand why. To add insult to injury, you had to leave your other friends in the dark about it. You couldn’t even imagine taking it from the top with them, dreading to hear Pope go on a whole ‘I told you so’ rant about Pogue on Pogue macking.

Feeling utterly alone and filled with regret, you decided to just cut your losses and go home.

You wondered if JJ took the whole thing personally, like it was specifically him you were rejecting and not the casual sex of it all. Surely, he had to understand that this whole thing should’ve never started to begin with. Had things been so peachy from his side? Had he had none of these thoughts, none of these doubts about what you were doing? At all? You found it hard to believe, and then you remembered Kie saying something once about men being simple creatures.

Maybe JJ really had thought that everything was perfect, and why wouldn’t he? He could sleep around with whoever he wanted and still turn around and get it from you too. From his point of view, he was probably on top of the world.

You were halfway to your house when you heard it, the sound of a bike, and you really didn’t think much of it until it started to slow. Looking over, the last person you expected to pull up beside you was JJ, and you paused. You eyed him as he stopped, and you watched his shoulders heave with a heavy sigh.

“Hop on,” he said.

You opened your mouth to say something when he continued.

“It’s late and…you shouldn’t be walking home…”

He wouldn’t look at you, and you found his behavior so odd. Still, as weird as he was being, he was right. It was late, and no matter how much of a weird place your friendship was in, you weren’t going to turn down his offer to take you home.

You swallowed at the feel of wrapping your arms around him. It reminded you of both the simpler times of your friendship, and the more complicated where your feelings for him were literally making you miserable. When he parked at your house, you were surprised to see him getting off the bike too, and you eyed him, watching him sigh again before looking away with a taut jaw.

“Can I come in?”

You blinked, taken aback, but unable to refuse.

“Of course,” you softly told him.

You had a feeling this conversation wouldn’t be light, and you wondered if you should play pretend at first and offer something to eat or if you should just tell him to get right to it. You turned to face him just as he locked the door, and you blinked at him.

JJ looked…troubled as he leaned against the door, just frowning at you.

“I don’t…I don’t want to break it off…”

That admission didn’t really shock you, and you nodded.

“Yeah, I gathered as much,” you mumbled, recalling his reaction that day.

“I thought things were good,” he quietly said.

“For you, maybe,” you scoffed. “Not for me…”

You crossed your arms over your chest, plopping down onto your couch.

“So, that’s it,” he said it more like a statement than a question. “Just like that you decide its over.”

You swallowed down the words you really wanted to say, confessing to him how you felt, but you knew it would only hurt you. You reached up, rubbing your temples as you stood. JJ was still leaning against the door, staring you down, and you shook your head.

“I don’t understand this, JJ,” you whispered. “You can and do sleep with whoever you want. Why does it matter that I don’t want that to be me anymore?”

“…because the thought of you sleeping with anyone else makes me sick,” he sneered, shocking you.

The vitriol and malice in his tone had your eyes widening, and before your eyes, it was like a mask dropped, revealing the angry guy underneath. You scoffed, glancing away with a shake of your head.

“We’re not together, JJ,” you slowly started. “…and besides you don’t have to worry about that anytime soon.”

Only God knew how long it would take you to get over your best friend, but as he approached you, you wondered if that day would come sooner rather than later. You gasped at the way he grabbed your arm, and again, there was that troubled look in JJ’s eyes, like his own actions shocked you just as much as they shocked him.

“I didn’t…”

His voice was quiet, and he trailed off, releasing a shaky breath through his nose as he stared at you. You watched his blue eyes rake over you, drinking you in and studying everything about you. You watched his face fall some, and he stepped closer. His hold on you kept you from taking one back.

“I thought I could sleep with you and that would be it,” he started, huffing to himself. “I didn’t know I’d be thinking about you almost every day since…fighting the urge to fuck you in front of all out friends…”

Your eyes widened.

“I didn’t think I’d drive myself crazy thinking about the day you finally got another boyfriend, and you wouldn’t…you wouldn’t be mine anymore.”

You were at a loss for words, somehow both hearing what you wanted and what you didn’t.

“I tried to just let it go, fight it, but I couldn’t…and I…I had to have you again, and I tried to fight it again, and then you…you kissed me this time,” he said through clenched teeth. “You wanted me and then you just broke it off.”

You furiously blinked, trying to gather your thoughts, but JJ kept talking.

“I wanted to break something. I wanted to break someone’s neck,” he spat, moving closer. “Now, that I’ve had you… I don’t think I can just let you go.”

Both of his hands were on your arms, now, and you pressed your hands to his chest.

“JJ, wait-.”

He swallowed your words, kissing you, and any fight against him was futile. Your mind was trying to make sense of this turn of events. There wasn’t anything to be happy about because you didn’t know if JJ actually felt something for you, or if this was pure possessiveness. Ownership. You wanted to talk about this, but the way he ignored your protests and resistance had you rethinking everything.

JJ wouldn’t let you get a word in, keeping his lips on yours, and you yelped into his mouth when he tore at your shirt. You sucked in air when you turned your head away, pushing against him.

“JJ, stop-! What are you…?”

You gasped when he shoved you onto the couch, and you felt like you were having an out of body experience. The very same best friend that you loved was pinning you beneath him, pulling your skirt down because you dared to put a stop to whatever this casual fling was.

Any thoughts entertaining the revelation that maybe he actually felt the same way this whole time was gone. This wasn’t love. This was about a guy feeling like you owed him something, owed him a part of you, and you yelped in pain when his teeth sank into your chest.

“JJ, stop,” you tearfully pleaded, pushing against his face.

“Why? Huh?” he wondered, hovering over you and holding you down.

His blond hair hung into his face, and his blue eyes were hard, staring you down like you’d done something wrong.

“So things can go back to the way they were before we slept together? If I say I don’t want that then what?”

You sniffed, trying to close your legs, but it didn’t prevent him from pushing into you, stretching you out in a way that was so familiar. You shuddered at the feel, and JJ pressed his tongue to the inside of his lip, watching himself slowly disappear into you.

“You don’t have half a clue what you do to me,” he murmured, leaning down and pinning you beneath him. “You don’t even get how you’ve ruined me for anybody else.”

He snapped his hips against yours, a harsh grunt leaving him, and you gasped. One of his hands had your wrists pinned to your stomach, the other forearm was pressed into the couch beside your head, holding himself up so that he could alternate between looking at your face and looking down to where you two connected.

“I…I’m sorry,” he whispered, brushing his lips over yours. “I’m sorry, I really am, but I can’t… I can’t let you go.”

You turned your head away.

“I can’t let you end this.”

Your face crumbled at that, wondering if you’d just told him how you felt, if it would have ever come to this. Then again, it was better to know what JJ was really like, wasn’t it? Wasn’t it better to know that he wasn’t the sweet and caring guy you always thought he was? Surely, it had to be better to know that he was capable of anything under the right circumstances too.

That was what you told yourself, but as he plunged into you, sliding his cock into your now slick walls, you almost wished you’d remained in blissful ignorance. As you shuddered beneath him, you wondered if this was where you would’ve wound up eventually even if you had refused him that day in the van.

“Fuck,” he cursed, slowly thrusting into you and forcing a whine to climb out of your throat. “Just imagine…”

He pushed into you to the hilt, holding himself there and reaching up to brush his fingers along your jaw.

“If you had never shown me what I was missing.”

[d3v1ls4dvocat3]

Dessert

Gojo x Fem! Reader x Geto Smut

Warnings: Smut, porn no plot, threesome, boyfriend Satoru, best friend Suguru, Dom Satoru, pussy drunk Suguru, Oral (M/ F receiving) nipple play, fingering, anal, p in v sex, double penetration, lots of pet names (pretty, baby, sweetheart, good girl) praise, cum eating, cuck Suguru? kinda?? not proofread so bare with me

Word Count: 1.3k

A/N: Wrote this while listening to Clancy bc i love that album. Also something about Sugusato in a threesome just gets me going so I thought I’d write about it bc what else is there to do on memorial day

MDNI or you will be blocked!!

“Come on, Pretty. Open those legs so Sugu can get a good view of that wet pussy,” Gojo purred into your ear.

You groaned around Gojo’s dick, causing him to push himself further in, and obeyed your boyfriend. You found yourself thinking of how you got into this mess: laying on your back while Gojo fucked himself into your mouth while his best friend- your friend- watched you both with a look you couldn’t quite read.

His eyes were lidded, mouth slightly agape, and his chest heaved with every intake of breath. You watched him stare at your legs, opening them ever so slowly just to tease him. He practically groaned when he finally got to see your soaking cunt.

Gojo grinned wickedly. “You’re dripping and I haven’t even touched you yet.” He continued to pound into you, gagging you each time his tip went down your throat, his balls widely slapping your chin.

Turning to face his partner in crime, Gojo beckoned him closer. “Sugu, don’t just stand there. I know you’ve dreamed about what she tastes like.”

Suguru didn’t say anything but he nodded slightly. You blushed and whined into Gojo’s cock. He shushed you and pulled out of your mouth, slapping his tip on your face.

“We can finish that later. I want to watch you fall apart on Suguru’s tongue,” Gojo said and repositioned you both so that he was behind you holding your legs open. His hard dick poked into your back and you shivered.

“Toru, please-“ You began.

“Ah, ah, baby doll. You’ve gotta cum first before you get this.”

You pouted for a moment before Geto grabbed your attention. He was on his knees before you, staring at your cunt like a starved man. The sight alone made you clench. Gojo brought his fingers up your thighs and slid them slowly through your folds, collecting your juices. You let out a low moan.

“Here, Sugu, suck my fingers,” Gojo ordered. Geto obediently opened his mouth and allowed Gojo to put his slick covered fingers into his mouth. Suguru moaned at the taste and greedily slurped on Satoru’s digits.

“How is it? Everything you dreamed of?” Gojo teased as Suguru finished sucking.

Suguru looked into your eyes with a lustful gaze. “You’re so sweet, princess.”

Without another word, Geto surged forward and took your cunt into his mouth. You moaned and arched your back at the sudden contact. Gojo caught you before you could shove Suguru off and brought you back down into his chest. He kissed your neck and began to pinch at your nipples. You were practically screaming at the sensation.

Geto sucked your clit and easily pushed his finger into your cunt. You moaned his name and couldn’t help but grab his hair, pushing his head further into you. You rode his face as he loudly slurped and licked your pussy, devouring it like it was his last meal.

Gojo watched you with a smile, continuously playing with your tits and kissing you anywhere he could reach. If you weren’t so focused on Geto, you would’ve chastised him for leaving hickeys where they could be seen.

Geto pushed a second finger into you and curled it. You felt the familiar sensation building in your stomach. You squeezed Geto’s hair tighter, silently urging him to keep going.

“M’ gonna cum,” You cried.

“Good girl, baby. Cum all over his face,” Gojo purred.

Geto sucked your clit hard and curled his fingers again. You practically wailed and instantly came. Geto kept his pace, licking your clit and entrance trying to get every ounce of you on his tongue.

You were shaking as you came down from your orgasm. The hint of overstimulation was dawning on you as Suguru continued to lap at your cunt.

You whined and tried to push him off. “Sugu, it’s too much.”

“You’re just- mmm- so good, sweetheart. I can’t, fuck, help it,” Suguru moaned into you. Satoru chuckled and lightly tapped his friend’s hand.

“We don’t want her passing out just yet, Sugu. She hasn’t been fucked yet.”

Finally, Geto pulled away from you. You sighed at the relief but it didn’t last long. In a moment, you were flipped, now facing Gojo with Geto to your back. You looked at your boyfriend with panic filling your eyes.

Gojo sensed your worry and kissed you gently. “It’s okay, pretty girl. You can take us both.”

You took a deep breath and nodded. Gojo smiled. “That’s my good girl.”

Slowly, Gojo positioned himself at your front entrance, pushing the tip through your folds. You moaned, still slightly sensitive. You felt Geto push himself against your ass. You clenched on instinct. Geto hissed as he pushed himself into you slowly.

“Relax, sweetheart,” He said shakily. Gojo kissed you to take your mind off the pain. You took the distraction happily, trying your hardest to focus on relaxing rather than just how BIG Suguru was.

He didn’t feel quite as long as Satoru, but oh, was he thicker. You felt like you would fall apart on just him, and Satoru hadn’t even pushed himself in yet.

After what felt like an eternity, Suguru finally stopped pushing. He let out a low moan and experimentally pushed out and then back in. You cried out and gripped onto Gojo’s shoulders.

“Fuck, Satoru, she’s perfect,” He said.

Gojo smiled and looked at you. “I know.”

He aimed himself up and with one movement, pushed his length into your pussy. You all three let out a moan at the feeling. You’d never felt so full in your whole life. If either of them moved you knew you would cum. It felt so good, too good. You could feel Suguru rubbing against Satoru, the only barrier between them was a thin layer of skin. You shakily moved yourself up, trying to escape how suffocated you felt.

Gojo grabbed you and shoved you down. You practically screamed.

“Fuck, Toru- it’s too much,” You babbled grabbing onto his shoulders to try and ground yourself.

“You can take it, baby,” Gojo said. He kissed you again. “We’re gonna move now, okay?”

Before you could nod, Gojo pushed out and slammed back into you, causing you to see stars. He began to forcefully fuck himself into you, not slowing down once. Geto moaned, feeling Satoru’s cock rub against his with every thrust of his hips.

He felt he could die like this.

Gently, Suguru moved his hips back as Gojo moved his forward, finding a matching pace as best he could. They moved in unison, one pulling out as the other slammed into you. You couldn’t handle it, babbling and moaning and drooling into your boyfriend. Gojo whispered praises into your ear as you felt yourself fall apart on your boyfriend and his best friend’s dick.

It didn’t take long before you felt your orgasm approaching, harder and faster than before. You cursed and cried into Satoru as it hit you like a brick wall. You spasmed and clenched against the two men, making a mess all over all three of you. They both moaned and Gojo took the opportunity to pound into you faster, finally chasing over his own high.

Geto cursed and gripped onto your shoulder. “Fuck, I’m gonna-“

“Don’t you dare cum in her, Suguru.”

Geto’s eyes snapped up. Gojo starred back with an expression Suguru had only seen used on enemies. He shivered and didn’t argue, pulling out of you completely before spilling his load on your ass.

You fell onto Gojo as he began to shake. You felt him tense up before he cursed. “Fuck, good girl. Take it all baby.”

Satoru fucked his cum into you as he came down from his high. You moaned as he pulled out. Gojo held onto you and carefully laid you down onto the bed. He kissed your forehead and moved your legs apart.

“What are you waiting for?” He asked. “Have your dessert, Suguru.���