#do you know i would kill for her. do you know

[reiding-writing]

cold!reader used to work with VCAC? the idea that she's good with children despite just hating everyone is so funny to me

would you consider writing a fic where the BAUs main witness is a kid and cold reader is the only person to get through to them? and then the kid becomes like super attached and the rest of the team is just like 'hm, strange' because they never expected her to be good with kids? thank you!

𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐲-𝐬𝐢𝐱 𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬.

A family annihilator who's killed three families in two months makes a fatal mistake. He leaves behind a witness, a child, and she's the only one that can help solve the case.

cold!reader ❅ 10.0k ❅ series masterlist. ❅ main masterlist.

CW | typical criminal minds violence, violence against children, mentions of trauma and ptsd, you do not know how tempted i was to kill this child but i didn’t

The scent of burnt coffee lingers in the air, mingling with the sterile chill of the air conditioning.

The conference room is dim, the overhead lights casting a dull glow against the crime scene photos spread across the table. Three families, their faces smiling in old photographs, juxtaposed with the horror of their final moments.

You sit stiffly in your chair, arms crossed, watching as Hotch stands at the head of the table. His expression is unreadable, but the tension in his shoulders speaks for itself.

The team is silent as he clicks to the next slide on the projector, displaying the most recent crime scene. Blood splatters across beige carpet. A broken picture frame. A child's shoe, left in the doorway.

“This is our unsub's third family in six weeks,” Hotch says, his voice steady but heavy. “All killed in their own homes, in the middle of the night. No signs of forced entry, no clear connection between the families. Each time, he’s managed to evade security cameras and forensic evidence. He’s methodical, careful, and fast.”

“Spree killer tendencies, but controlled,” Spencer interjects from across the table. His fingers drum against the tabletop as he speaks. “He escalates quickly, but there’s no erratic behaviour at the scenes. He’s not disorganised—he knows exactly what he’s doing,”

“Until now,” JJ murmurs. She leans forward, her brows drawn together, eyes fixed on the next image—a little girl. The survivor.

She’s small, her arms wrapped tightly around her knees, pressed into the corner of what looks like a hospital bed. A police officer stands nearby, talking to her, but there’s no recognition in her eyes. She looks… empty.

“She got away,” Emily says, glancing at Hotch. “How?”

“The unsub killed her parents and older brother before she managed to escape through a back door,” he explains. “The neighbours called 911 when they heard screaming. By the time officers arrived, the house was quiet, and the suspect was gone. She was found hiding in their backyard shed.”

“A survivor,” Morgan says, shaking his head. “That changes things. This guy has a pattern—he wipes out the entire family unit. That means she wasn’t supposed to make it out alive,”

“Which means he might try again,” Rossi adds grimly.

A beat of silence. The weight of the statement settles over the room like thick fog.

“Local PD has had no luck getting her to talk,” Hotch continues. “She hasn’t said a word about what happened. Refuses to answer questions. She’s traumatised, barely verbal, and right now, she’s under police protection until we can confirm if she has any extended family who can take her in.”

You shift in your seat, already sensing where this is going. A slow dread creeps up your spine as Hotch’s gaze flickers toward you.

“We need to get through to her,” he says. “She’s the only witness we have, and if the unsub left anything behind—a name, a face, a detail—she’s the only one who can give it to us.”

His words hang in the air for a second too long. You feel everyone’s eyes move toward you.

And then Hotch says it.

“I want you to talk to her.”

You inhale sharply, jaw tightening. "Hotch—"

“You have a PhD in Psychology,” he cuts in smoothly, as if he already anticipated your pushback. “And your time in VCAC makes you the most qualified person here to work with child victims.”

The mention of VCAC makes your stomach twist. You fight the urge to grimace.

“I moved to the BAU for a reason,” you remind him, keeping your voice measured. “Children can be… difficult. Especially ones dealing with trauma this severe. She’s not just going to start talking because I ask her to.”

“I know,” Hotch says. “But if anyone can get her to open up, it’s you.”

Silence stretches between you.

You don’t want to do this.

You hate working with kids. Not because you don’t care, but because they feel too much.

They cry, they panic, they cling, and their emotions are messy—unpredictable in ways adults rarely are.

You spent years in VCAC, watching helpless children break apart under the weight of their own trauma, and it wore you down in ways you never admitted.

That’s why you left.

You’re not the nurturing type. You don’t coddle, you don’t reassure with empty promises, and you don’t have the patience for endless sobs and incomprehensible explanations.

And yet.

You glance at the image of the little girl again. She looks so small. So completely alone.

No one else in this room is going to be able to reach her. And if she doesn’t talk, if she doesn’t tell you what she saw—

The unsub will keep killing.

You exhale slowly, forcing the tension out of your shoulders.

“Fine,” you say finally. “I’ll do it.”

“Good,” Hotch nods. “Wheels up in 30.”

The meeting disperses, chairs scraping against the floor as the team gathers their things. You stay seated for a moment, staring at the blurred-out image of the girl on the screen.

A hand brushes against your arm.

You look up to see Spencer standing beside you, concern flickering in his eyes.

“You okay?” he asks softly.

You almost say yes, but stop yourself. Instead, you shrug.

“It’s just… not my favourite thing to do,” you admit, voice quieter than usual.

He nods, as if he understands. Maybe he does.

“You’ll be good at it,” he says. No hesitation. No doubt. Just quiet certainty.

For some reason, that makes your chest tighten.

You swallow, push back your chair, and stand.

“Let’s hope so,” you mutter, grabbing your case file.

And then you follow the team out the door.

—

The jet touches down in Minnesota under a dull, overcast sky, the kind that promises rain but never quite delivers. The air outside is biting, cold enough that you pull your coat tighter around you as the team steps off the plane.

The local PD is already waiting for you on the tarmac, their unmarked cars idling, exhaust curling into the frigid air. Hotch exchanges quick introductions, then splits the team without hesitation.

“Rossi—you’re with me at the latest crime scene. JJ, you’ll work with the department’s media liaison to handle the press. Morgan, Prentiss, you’re going to the ME’s office to go over autopsy findings.”

His gaze lands on you. “You’re going to the station to talk to the girl.”

You nod, ignoring the way your stomach tightens at the assignment.

“I’ll go with her,” Spencer says, stepping forward.

Hotch gives him a brief look, then nods. “Keep me updated.”

You don’t say anything as you and Spencer break off from the group, climbing into the backseat of a waiting squad car. The officer driving doesn’t speak much, just gives you a curt nod before pulling out onto the highway.

You spend the drive flipping through the case file, rereading the details you already know.

The survivor’s name is Madelyn Carter. Eight years old. No prior history of abuse or neglect. No suspicious activity leading up to the night of the murders. A completely normal kid—until the night she lost everything.

The police reports are frustratingly sparse. Non-verbal. Unresponsive to questioning. Won’t engage.

You tap your fingers against the file, jaw tight. She’s just a child, but already, you can feel the weight of the challenge ahead of you.

The police station is small, tucked into a sleepy suburban district, the kind of place that probably never sees much worse than drunk and disorderly charges.

But today, it’s buzzing with quiet tension.

You and Spencer are led to a small interview room at the end of the hallway. The walls are a washed-out shade of blue, meant to be calming, but the effect is ruined by the harsh fluorescent lighting.

And there, curled up on a chair too big for her, is Madelyn.

She’s impossibly small, arms wrapped around herself, knees drawn up to her chest. Her hair is tangled at the ends, her clothes a size too big, probably donated by someone at the station. A stuffed rabbit sits limply in her lap, its fur worn and patchy.

She doesn’t look up when you walk in.

The officer standing in the corner—a middle-aged woman with tired eyes—gives you a look that’s equal parts sympathy and frustration.

“She hasn’t said a word since we brought her in,” she murmurs.

You nod, but your focus is on the girl.

You know better than to overwhelm her right away, so you take your time settling into the chair across from her. No sudden movements. No clipped, authoritative tone. Just careful, deliberate quiet.

“Hi, Madelyn,” you say gently.

She doesn’t acknowledge you.

That’s fine. You expected this.

You shift slightly in your seat, keeping your posture relaxed as you introduce yourself to her. “I’m a Doctor, I’m going to try and help you,”

Still nothing.

You glance at Spencer, who watches the interaction closely, hands tucked into the pockets of his cardigan.

“That’s a nice bunny,” you say, nodding toward the stuffed animal in her lap.

Madelyn doesn’t respond, doesn’t even flick her eyes toward you. She just tightens her grip on the rabbit, her small fingers curling into its worn fur.

You exhale slowly, adjusting your approach.

“I used to have one kind of like that when I was little,” you continue, keeping your voice soft, conversational. “Mine was a bear, though. His name was Theo. I took him everywhere.”

Nothing.

Not surprising, but frustrating nonetheless.

You lean back slightly in your chair, glancing at Spencer, who watches the exchange with quiet patience.

“You’re good at this,” he murmurs under his breath, just for you to hear. “Just be patient,”

You barely resist the urge to roll your eyes. “She hasn’t said a word, Spencer.”

“That doesn’t mean she’s not listening,”

You don’t respond, but his words linger in your mind as you turn back to Madelyn.

She’s still curled up, still silent, but you notice the way her fingers twitch slightly against the rabbit’s ear. It’s a small movement, but it tells you one thing, she’s aware of you.

That’s something.

You decide to change tactics. Instead of talking, you lean forward, resting your arms on the table between you. Then you take out your notepad and a pen, clicking it open.

Madelyn doesn’t look up, but you catch the smallest flicker of movement in her posture—curiosity.

Good.

You start to doodle. Simple things. A flower, a star, little patterns in the margins.

Still nothing from her.

But when you glance up a few minutes later, her eyes are on the notepad.

Just for a second. But she was looking.

You resist the urge to smile. Instead, you gently slide the notepad across the table toward her, placing the pen on top.

“You can draw something, if you want,” you say simply. “You don’t have to, but sometimes it helps.”

Madelyn doesn’t react immediately. But then, slowly—so slowly—her fingers twitch again, and she reaches out.

She doesn’t grab the pen. But she touches it.

Your heart stutters slightly in your chest.

Progress.

You let her take her time. You don’t push, don’t rush. You just watch as her tiny fingers trace the edge of the pen absently.

You glance at Spencer again, and his expression is warm. Encouraging.

After a long silence, he speaks, his voice gentle.

“Do you like stories, Madelyn?”

She doesn’t answer.

But after a moment, she nods. Barely. But it’s a nod.

You share a look with Spencer, and for the first time since walking into this room, you feel the smallest spark of hope.

She’s in there.

You just have to find a way to bring her out.

—

You don’t know how long you sit there, watching Madelyn’s fingers trace absent shapes against the edge of the pen. Time moves strangely in moments like this—slow and thick, like wading through molasses.

Spencer stays quiet, offering his presence but not overwhelming the space. You appreciate it more than you’d ever admit.

Madelyn doesn’t speak. But she nods. And she touches the pen.

That’s more than you had ten minutes ago.

So you build on it.

“You like stories,” you say, keeping your voice soft. “What kind of stories?”

No response.

You lean back slightly. “I like mysteries.” A pause. “Not the scary kind, though. More like… puzzles. Things that make you think.”

Nothing at first. But then—so subtle you almost miss it—Madelyn shifts. It’s small, just the faintest movement of her shoulders, but it’s acknowledgment.

Encouraged, you try again.

“I think you might be really good at puzzles,” you say casually. “The way you were looking at my drawings earlier—that was you figuring things out, right?”

She still doesn’t answer, but this time, you catch the way she avoids your gaze, like she’s fighting the urge to react.

She’s engaged. Even if she won’t admit it yet.

So you take another risk.

“Do you want to play a game?”

That gets her attention. Not fully, but her head tilts just slightly—like she’s listening more closely.

You grab the notepad again, flipping to a fresh page.

“It’s really simple,” you tell her. “I draw something, and you guess what it is. If you guess right, it’s your turn to draw something for me.”

You don’t expect an immediate response, so you keep moving. You draw a cat. Just a simple, messy sketch, the kind a kid might do. Then you slide the notepad back toward her and wait.

Silence.

You don’t push.

Then, after an agonising pause—Madelyn reaches for the pen.

She doesn’t say anything. Doesn’t look at you.

But she writes one word in the space beneath your drawing.

Cat.

Something in your chest unclenches.

“Yeah,” you say, voice even softer than before. “It’s a cat.”

Madelyn’s fingers tighten around the pen.

Then—hesitant, almost reluctant—she starts to draw.

It’s shaky, unsure, but after a moment, you recognise it.

A rabbit. Her stuffed animal.

You don’t rush to answer. You let the moment sit, giving her control.

Finally, you say, “Is it your bunny?”

Madelyn nods.

Not small. Not hesitant. A real, full nod.

Your breath catches. Spencer’s posture shifts beside you, like he can feel the significance of it, too.

You’ve got her.

—

It takes another hour before she agrees to talk.

You don’t push her. You keep playing, keep gently pulling her out of the dark space she’s been locked in. She tells you her bunny’s name is Milo, that he’s red because it’s her favourite colour, about things that don’t hurt to answer.

She tells you her friends call her Maddie. You ask if you can. She agrees.

And slowly, carefully, she leans into it.

Finally, when the moment feels right, you set your pen down.

“Maddie,” you say gently. “I need to ask you about what happened that night.”

Immediately, she shrinks in on herself.

You don’t reach for her. Don’t move too fast.

“I know it’s scary,” you continue. “And I know it hurts to think about. But you’re the only one who knows what he looks like.”

Her grip on Milo tightens.

You lean forward slightly. “I want to stop him,” you say. “I don’t want him to hurt anyone else. But I can’t do that without your help.”

She’s trembling. But she’s listening.

Spencer speaks for the first time in a while, his voice quiet but steady.

“We can do it in a way that’s not so scary,” he tells her. “You don’t have to remember everything at once. We can do it piece by piece, and you can stop whenever you want.”

Maddie hesitates.

Then, after a long, agonising pause—she nods.

You take a slow breath.

“Okay,” you murmur. “Let’s do this together.”

—

The cognitive interview is exhausting. For her, for you, for everyone in the room.

You guide her through it carefully—asking her to picture the house, to focus on what she remembers before things got bad.

She whispers about the TV being on. About how her brother was playing a game on his tablet. About how her dad was in the kitchen, and her mom was upstairs.

Then—the noise.

Something breaking.

Screaming.

Maddie shakes violently, curling in on herself, and you immediately pull back.

“It’s okay,” you say quickly. “You’re safe. You’re here with us.”

She nods, but her breath is coming too fast, her body trembling too much.

Spencer places a gentle hand on your arm, meeting your gaze. You understand what he’s asking. Back off. Give her a moment.

So you do.

You wait.

Finally, she whispers, “He—he was big,”

You go still.

She’s talking about him.

You nod encouragingly. “Okay. Big. Can you tell me anything else?”

A shaky breath.

“H-he had a… a hat.”

You glance at Spencer, who’s already jotting this down in the case file.

Maddie’s voice is barely audible.

“I think it was red.”

Your heart pounds.

Piece by piece, she tells you more. His height. His clothes. A scar on his arm.

By the time she stops, she’s crying.

You reach forward, gently—so gently—and brush a piece of hair from her face.

“You did so good, Maddie,” you tell her. “So, so good.”

She hiccups, her tiny body wracked with exhaustion.

And then—before you can react—she throws herself into your arms.

You freeze.

You’re not the nurturing type. You don’t know how to do this.

But right now, this kid trusts you in a way she doesn’t trust anyone else.

So you let her cling.

You let her cry.

And for the first time in a long time—

You don’t pull away.

—

The interview is over, but somehow, it feels like the work is just beginning.

Maddie doesn’t leave your side.

Not even for a second.

You’d thought that once the interview was done, you’d be able to hand her over to someone else—maybe the police, or someone from her extended family who was supposed to arrive soon. But instead, Maddie just… clings.

After the interview, she refuses to let go of your hand. You try to tell her she can go with one of the officers to get something to eat, but her grip tightens.

When you tell her it’s time for you to go back to work, she just looks up at you, her eyes wide with that quiet, vulnerable desperation that makes you want to soften, but you can’t.

Her tiny fingers dig into your sleeve when you stand, like she’s afraid you’ll disappear.

You can’t blame her.

You’ve been the one who’s been there for her, the one who’s gotten her to speak, the one who’s made her feel safe for the first time in days.

But the child is persistent.

Everywhere you go, she follows. To the small break room where the team is gathering, to the bathroom when you briefly step away, back to the conference room where they’ve gathered for a case update.

She’s your shadow now.

And the team notices.

You try not to make it awkward, but it's impossible when she insists on sitting at your side, her tiny body almost engulfed by the chair next to you. Her stuffed bunny sits in her lap, its fur nearly as frayed as her nerves, but she holds it tightly. It’s like her last link to some semblance of safety.

Morgan raises an eyebrow as he walks in. “I thought we were done with the interview?”

“We are,” you say, keeping your tone neutral. “She just… she doesn’t want to leave me.”

No one teases you—at least, not directly—but there’s a quiet amusement in the air as they all take in the sight of Madelyn curled up in her oversized chair, the edges of her blanket practically touching the floor, with you sitting across from her.

Hotch is the only one who doesn’t seem particularly surprised. He’s worked with children before—he knows how attachment works, especially after trauma.

But the others? They’re bemused.

JJ glances over at you as she sips her coffee, a smile pulling at her lips. “She seems to have taken quite a liking to you,”

You tilt your head, barely acknowledging her. “I’m just doing my job.”

Maddie, of course, doesn’t let go of you, even as the case discussion begins. She stays glued to your side, her small hand clutching the sleeve of your jacket, her eyes darting from one agent to the next as they go over the details of the unsub’s pattern.

You keep your voice even, answering questions when necessary, but it’s becoming increasingly hard to focus when you feel the weight of her gaze fixed on you, like she’s waiting for something.

Spencer notices.

He’s been watching the whole scene unfold with quiet fascination, his arms crossed, his head slightly tilted, like he’s trying to puzzle out the situation. Finally, when the meeting breaks up, he sidles up next to you as you get ready to leave the conference room.

“She’s really latched onto you, huh?” he says, his voice low, but the smile tugging at his lips is evident.

You glance at him, your expression unreadable. “It’s nothing. Just transference.”

“Uh-huh.” He doesn’t believe you, but he doesn’t push.

Maddie hasn’t let go of you once during the discussion, and now that it’s over, she’s still following you around, pressing close to your side as you move toward the exit.

“Are you hungry, Maddie?” you ask her gently, glancing down at her with a touch of exasperation. “You haven’t eaten, and I’m pretty sure there’s a café close to here.”

Her head nods almost imperceptibly.

Spencer watches, his eyes softening slightly as he observes the quiet bond that’s developed between the two of you. It’s not obvious at first—just the way the girl clings to you like you’re the only thing tethering her to some kind of reality.

“Maybe we can grab lunch,” he suggests, his tone more teasing than anything. “I mean, you’ve earned it. Getting the kid to open up like that? Not easy.”

You roll your eyes, though there's no malice behind it. “I’m just doing what needs to be done.”

“You’re good at it.”

You mutter something under your breath about it not being a permanent situation, but Spencer just chuckles.

He walks with you as you lead Maddie toward the small café a few blocks away. As you cross the threshold of the restaurant, you notice the oddity of the whole situation.

It’s strange to have someone at your side like this. A small, vulnerable child who insists on being with you despite everything that happened.

The waitress gives you an odd look when you request a secluded booth, but she doesn’t say anything. You slide in, Maddie immediately beside you, her fingers still clutching your sleeve.

Spencer orders for everyone, giving Maddie a soft smile as he does. You can’t help but notice the way his expression softens around her.

“She seems to like you,” Spencer comments as you sit, his voice light but carrying a certain warmth.

You cross your arms and shoot him a glance. “What can I say? I’m just a magnet for clingy children.”

Spencer laughs quietly, but it’s warm. “You’re good with her. I think she feels safe around you. And you are good at what you do.”

“Thanks,” you mutter, but there’s something unsettlingly genuine in your voice.

Spencer raises an eyebrow, but he doesn’t press you. Instead, he changes the subject, discussing the case with you as if nothing’s out of the ordinary.

But in the back of your mind, you can’t shake the feeling that something has changed.

As you eat, Maddie picks at her food, her gaze flickering from you to Spencer and back again. She looks at you with a certain familiarity, like she trusts you completely, like you’re the one person who’s made her feel safe in the whirlwind of everything that happened.

After a while, she speaks.

“Are you boyfriend and girlfriend?”

Your fork stops halfway to your mouth. Spencer looks at you from across the table, just as surprised.

You freeze. How do you explain the whole weird mess that is your and Spencer’s relationship to an eight-year-old? How do you explain the not-together-but-kinda-together situation that doesn’t even make sense to you half the time?

So you side-step the question.

“No, sweetie,” you say, “Not quite.”

Maddie doesn’t seem disappointed by that answer. She just nods, although a little confused.

You glance at Spencer, who’s trying to hide a smile behind his cup of water.

“It’s okay to be curious,” he tells her gently.

You roll your eyes and take another bite of your food. “It's just complicated,”

Maddie shrugs, her focus shifting back to her plate. She doesn't press any further, and for a brief moment, you almost feel normal again—just two adults eating lunch with a kid. Like a proxy family.

But normal doesn’t last long. The reality is that she’s still attached to you, and you're still the one she turns to. For now, at least.

And despite all your reservations, there’s a part of you that’s starting to understand why.

—

The evening sets in with an oppressive stillness that mirrors the tension in the air.

Maddie has been tucked into a small cot, an officer stationed outside her door to ensure her safety. She’s asleep now, her face still flushed from the day’s events, her small form curled tightly under the blankets. The moment she closed her eyes, a quiet kind of peace settled in the room, but the unease in your chest hasn’t subsided.

The case isn’t over. Not by a long shot.

The team has reconvened, sitting around the large conference table in the BAU’s temporary Minnesota office. The maps, photos, and notes are all spread out before you, the room filled with the usual quiet hum of focus.

They’re all working with urgency now—calculating, piecing together information, and drawing conclusions. But none of them, not even Hotch, seem willing to speak the one truth you’re certain of.

Madelyn is in danger.

It’s only a matter of time before the unsub comes back for her.

“Based on the pattern,” Hotch begins, his voice steady, “we can assume the unsub is going to strike again. He’s methodical. The way he works suggests he’s already been planning this next move. We have a window.”

You listen, but you’re not really hearing him. Your eyes are fixed on the girl’s picture—the innocent smile frozen in time, the eyes full of unspoken fear. She’s just a little girl.

“And our best bet,” Morgan continues, leaning forward as he studies the information in front of him, “is to get her back into her old house. Lure the unsub out with a setup that looks weak—something that’ll convince him to make his move.”

Your stomach churns.

“That’s what we’re doing,” Hotch affirms, his eyes briefly meeting yours. “We need to make sure he’s brought to justice, and we’re running out of time.”

You can feel it—the tension rising in your chest, suffocating you. It’s not just the decision they’re making. It’s the plan. It’s the idea that they’re considering putting Madelyn in danger again.

You can’t stay silent.

“Are you serious?” Your voice cuts through the conversation like a knife. “We’re going to use her as bait?”

There’s an edge in your tone, one you rarely let genuinely show. The room goes still, and all eyes turn toward you.

Hotch looks at you with that ever-steady gaze of his, the kind that’s usually so impenetrable, but you can see the frustration beneath it. “We don’t have many options here. If we can’t draw him out, we risk losing him completely.”

“By using a child?” You repeat the word like it’s a poison, something that doesn’t belong in the same sentence as the word justice. You stand, unable to keep still, the anger making your pulse quicken. “This isn’t some game, Hotch. This is a real little girl. She’s already been through enough. We can’t just—”

“You’re overreacting,” Morgan interjects, his voice quieter now but firm. “We’re not putting her at direct risk. The setup will be controlled, and we’ll have backup in place,”

You shake your head, the words slipping from you before you can stop them. “Controlled? How do you control something like that? How do you control what he does to her when he finds out she’s there?”

Spencer speaks up from across the room, his voice calm but carrying an underlying note of empathy. “We’re not doing this blindly. There’s a risk, yes. But we’re also talking about a chance to stop him, once and for all. This is what we do,”

You turn to him, frustration boiling in your chest. “This is not our mission. She’s not just some tool to help us find a solution to our problems. She’s a child!”

Spencer’s eyes flash for a moment, but he softens his tone, lowering his voice. “I know, but we’re doing this to protect her. We can’t just sit back and wait for him to come to her. That’s not an option anymore,”

The conversation swirls around you, their voices growing distant in your ears as the weight of the decision begins to settle over you.

The plan, the baiting, the manipulation of this little girl’s already broken world—none of it feels right. The thought of putting her in harm’s way, even with all the precautions in place, is enough to make your stomach turn.

But no one is listening to you.

And you know, in the back of your mind, that it’s already decided. They’re going to go through with it.

Hotch gives you one last look, his gaze unreadable but firm. “I understand your concern, but this is the best option we have.”

You hold his gaze for a beat, the frustration still burning in your chest, but you can’t push it anymore.

Instead, you take a breath and step back, your voice tight. “Fine. But don’t expect me to like it.”

The rest of the team doesn’t speak up—no one challenges the decision. They all know what needs to be done, even if it isn’t easy. Even if it feels wrong.

And in that moment, you realise just how far this has gone. You’re not just part of the team anymore. You’re now complicit in something that you can’t reconcile with the woman you thought you were.

—

That night, you sit at your desk, staring at the case file in front of you, though you’re not really looking at it. Your thoughts drift back to Madelyn—her fragile, trusting eyes, the way she’s clung to you all day.

You didn’t sign up for this.

Spencer walks past your desk, pausing when he sees the way you’re hunched over the case files.

“You’re really not okay with this, are you?” he asks quietly, his voice soft but knowing.

You don’t answer at first, focusing on the photo of Madelyn. Her smile, her bunny clutched tight in her hands, all of it makes you feel like you’re trapped in a nightmare you can’t wake up from.

Finally, you speak, your voice barely a whisper. “I just—I can’t believe we’re doing this to her.”

Spencer’s silence speaks volumes. He doesn’t say anything for a long time, and you don’t expect him to. Finally, he leans in, his tone steady but sympathetic.

“Sometimes, we have to make hard choices,” he says. “But that doesn’t mean we forget who we’re doing it for,”

You glance up at him, meeting his eyes. There’s something in his gaze—a quiet understanding, a recognition of the struggle.

“You’ll be okay,” He hesitates before setting a hand against your cheek, thumb brushing over your skin. “And so will she,”

—

The silence in the room is almost oppressive. Madelyn has been tucked into her cot for the night, her small body curled into the covers as if trying to make herself as small as possible.

You’ve been avoiding looking at her, because every time you do, the weight of what you’re about to ask her presses down harder on your chest.

You know that this is necessary. You know that this is the only way to stop the unsub and give her a chance at safety. But that doesn’t make it feel any less wrong.

The plan is set. Tomorrow, they’ll use her as bait. And you, the one person she trusts in the world, are expected to stand by and watch.

It doesn’t matter that you’ll be there to protect her. It doesn’t matter that you’ll be the one closest to her. The thought of her being used like this leaves a bitter taste in your mouth that no amount of logic can cleanse.

But there’s no getting around it. The team has made their decision.

So you sit at the edge of her cot, trying to steady the storm of conflicting emotions swirling inside you. You’re the one who has to make her understand, and that terrifies you.

Maddie is lying on her side, her bunny tucked into the crook of her arm. She looks so small in the dim light, so fragile, and it hurts to see her like this.

The trauma she’s endured is still written on her face, though the interview was a step forward. But that doesn’t mean she’s ready for what’s about to happen. None of you are.

“Maddie?” you say softly, your voice quieter than usual. She doesn’t respond at first, her wide eyes flicking from her bunny to you. She’s so still, almost as though she’s bracing herself for something worse.

“Hey, sweetheart, look at me,” you coax gently, reaching out to touch her shoulder. She hesitates for a moment, but then she turns, her face a mask of anxiety and exhaustion.

You swallow hard, forcing yourself to hold her gaze. “I need to tell you something important. Do you remember what I told you earlier, about keeping you safe?”

She nods, her lips trembling. “You’re gonna stay with me?” Her voice is barely above a whisper, like she’s afraid of hearing the wrong answer.

Your heart aches. You can feel the weight of what you’re about to say hanging in the air like a storm cloud. But you can’t lie to her. Not now. She deserves the truth. Even if it breaks you to say it.

“I’m not going anywhere, okay?” you promise, trying to keep your voice steady. “But tomorrow… tomorrow’s going to be a little different.”

She furrows her brow, her small hands twisting the edges of her blanket. “How?”

You take a slow breath, carefully choosing your words. “Tomorrow, we’re going to do something to make sure that bad man never comes back. Something that will keep you safe. But it’s going to be a little scary, and I need you to trust me, okay?”

She looks up at you, eyes wide with apprehension. You can see her processing, the fear bubbling under the surface, trying to break through. But she doesn’t pull away. She stays there, watching you, waiting for the rest of it.

“It’s not going to be easy,” you continue. “We’re going to go to your old house, the place where all this happened, and we’re going to make it look like it did before. We’re going to have people watching from close by, and I’ll be right outside. The whole time, okay?”

Her lips tremble again, and you can see that she’s struggling to understand. The idea of going back to that house—where so much horror happened—is almost too much for her to process. You don’t blame her. You’d feel the same way.

“I won’t leave you,” you say again, making sure she hears the sincerity in your voice. “You’ll be safe, Maddie. I won’t let anything happen to you.”

The trust in her eyes is palpable, but the fear is too. Her small body stiffens for a moment, and she looks down at her bunny like it’s the only thing holding her together. “What if… what if I’m scared?” she asks, her voice barely audible.

You lean in, your heart breaking just a little more. “It’s okay to be scared, But we’ll make all the scary things go away.”

There’s a long pause, and for a moment, you almost feel like you’re breaking. The responsibility is too much, the pressure too great. You want so badly to pull her out of this situation, to find another way. But you can’t. You have to do this, not just for her, but for everyone who’s been affected by this unsub.

Madelyn bites her lip, her eyes filled with uncertainty. “You promise?”

You nod, your voice thick with emotion. “I promise.”

She looks at you for a long moment, as if weighing your words, trying to decide if she can trust you. And then, just as you’re starting to doubt yourself, she nods, barely perceptible. “Okay. I trust you.”

The words settle between you both, and for a moment, you feel the quiet weight of the promise you just made. This isn’t just a case anymore. It’s her. It’s her safety, her future, and you’re the one who has to make sure she’s protected.

“Good girl,” you say softly, brushing a few stray strands of hair from her forehead. “You’re so brave, Maddie. I’m proud of you.”

Her eyes flicker up to you again, and this time, there’s a faint smile. It’s small, but it’s there. “I’m not scared if you’re with me.”

That’s the moment you realise: she’s not just trusting you to keep her safe. She’s trusting you to give her back a sense of control over her own life, something she hasn’t had since the night her family was taken from her. And you can’t let her down. Not now, not ever.

“I’ll be with you,” you repeat. “Every step of the way.”

And as you watch her settle back into the covers, her bunny tucked tightly under her arm, you make a silent vow to yourself that no matter what happens tomorrow, no matter what you have to do, you will keep that promise.

Because no one else is going to.

Not like you will.

—

The air inside the old house is heavy with tension, each creak of the floorboards under the team’s feet amplified in the stillness.

The plan is simple. Madelyn is placed in the house, under the guise of a minimal police presence, to lure the unsub into taking the bait.

Everything has been carefully orchestrated, right down to the smallest detail. Outside, the team is positioned in hidden locations, all eyes on the house. They’re watching for any signs that the unsub is approaching, but you know they’re all thinking the same thing—you hope this works.

You’ve spent the entire day getting Maddie ready, talking her through the steps again, reassuring her that this is the right thing to do, that she’ll be okay. And, despite your own misgivings, you’re trying to convince yourself of the same thing.

You’ve promised her that you would stay by her side, and you have to see that promise through.

The door to the house is left slightly ajar, a weak police presence positioned just inside. You take your position on the floor below Maddie’s bedroom, staying close, but not so close as to be obvious. Your heartbeat is a loud thrum in your ears as the time ticks by, every minute stretching into what feels like an eternity. The silence inside the house feels like a storm waiting to break.

Then, it happens.

The motion sensor outside the house triggers, and you hear it—the unmistakable sound of someone breaching the perimeter. Your stomach lurches. The unsub is here.

It’s go-time.

The team moves in quickly, and in that same instant, you spring into action, your focus singular. Your only thought is Maddie. The unsub can be handled by the others. They’ve got it covered. But you can’t take your eyes off the one person you promised to protect. You know exactly where she is, and you don’t even hesitate to run toward her.

—

You burst into her room, your heart pounding. The light is dim, casting long shadows across the space. Maddie is standing by the window, looking outside with wide, fearful eyes. The moment she hears the door open, she turns to you, her face a mixture of confusion and terror.

She doesn’t say anything, but you can see the fear etched into her small features, the tremor in her hands as she holds the bunny close.

Without thinking, you move towards her in two quick steps. You scoop her up in your arms, holding her tight to your chest, pressing her small form into you as though you can shield her from all the horrors in the world. The weight of her trust feels heavier than ever.

“Shh,” you whisper, your voice as steady as you can make it, though it cracks just a little. “It’s okay. You’re safe now. I’m right here. See? I told you you’d be okay.”

She clings to you, her fingers curling into your shirt. She’s trembling, but she doesn’t pull away. In this moment, she’s not just the scared little girl caught in a nightmare. She’s the child who trusted you with her safety—and that trust is all that matters.

You stroke her hair gently, trying to soothe her with the rhythm of your hand.

Your heart is racing, but you can’t afford to let that show. She’s looking up at you now, her wide eyes full of questions, full of fear that you can’t quite banish. But she trusts you. That’s enough.

“Everything’s going to be okay,” you say again, even though you can’t promise it. You hold her tighter, wanting to shield her from everything outside this room, from the danger lurking just beyond the walls. You’re not thinking of the unsub anymore—only of Maddie. She’s the only thing that matters.

For a moment, everything else fades away. The outside world is a blur of movement and sound, but you are anchored in this small, dimly lit room with this little girl in your arms.

You don’t hear the team’s voices anymore, don’t hear the chase or the shouting, don’t hear anything except Maddie’s breathing against your chest. She’s calm now, her body still trembling but no longer with fear—more from the shock, the exhaustion of the night.

It’s a strange thing, the weight of her small body in your arms. There’s something deeply instinctive about it, something that stirs in you like an echo from a past you thought you’d finally buried alongside your Professor.

In this moment, holding her like this, you can’t help but think of what might have been. If you’d had that child, if you’d stayed.

What would it have been like? To raise a child of your own? To care for someone who needed you as much as she does?

The thought catches you off guard. It’s a brief moment of reflection, one that passes as quickly as it comes, but the weight of it lingers, like the fading scent of something once held close. It’s not the first time you’ve thought about it, but it’s the first time it’s felt so… real.

You quickly push the thought aside, focusing again on Maddie’s presence. Not now.

This isn’t about you. It’s about her. Always her.

“Hey,” you murmur, pulling her back slightly to look into her eyes. “You did great. You were so brave. You’re okay. It’s over now.”

Her eyes are wide, still searching your face for reassurance, but she doesn’t speak. She doesn’t need to. You know that she’s still processing everything, still trying to make sense of the danger, of the chaos, of everything she’s been through in the past few days. But she’s safe now. She’s in your arms, and you’ll keep her safe for as long as it takes.

“Do you trust me?” you ask softly, even though you already know the answer.

Maddie nods, her small hand clutching tighter onto her bunny.

“Good,” you say, giving her a small but sincere smile. “Then we’ll get through this together.”

—

The storm has passed. The danger is over. Madelyn is safe. The unsub is in custody, and the team is in the clear. You’ve done your job. You’ve kept her safe, just as you promised.

But now comes the hardest part.

Her grandparents are here, having arrived just after the house was secured, the paperwork signed, and the chaos of the operation settled.

They’re older, frail but warm, and there’s a visible relief on their faces when they see their granddaughter—safe, unharmed, and sound, despite everything she’s been through.

They approach her cautiously, with a tenderness that is obvious in their every move, but it’s clear that Madelyn isn’t ready to leave yet.

She’s sitting on the edge of the bed, her back to you, staring down at her hands, her bunny still clutched tightly in her grip. Her eyes flicker toward the door every now and then, but she doesn’t look up.

She can hear the voices outside—her grandparents—her family—but she’s frozen. The transition from being with you, the one person she’s come to rely on, to a completely new environment is more than she’s ready for.

You move closer, kneeling beside her. Her head doesn’t turn, but you can tell she knows you’re there. The silence between you is comfortable, not awkward, but weighted with the realisation that this is the end of the road for you both. This is where you have to let her go.

“Maddie,” you say softly, your voice a little hoarse from the long hours. “Your grandparents are here. They’re going to take you home. You’ll be safe with them.”

She doesn’t say anything, but you can see her shoulders tense, just a little. Her fingers flex against her bunny’s fur, as if trying to hold onto some sense of control, some last shred of the familiar. She’s scared. You understand that, even though she’s made it through the worst of it, she’s still just a little girl. And little girls need security. They need the things they’ve trusted, and right now, that’s you.

“I know it’s hard,” you continue, gently brushing her hair back. “But you’re going to be okay now. You’re going to be with your family. You’re not alone anymore.”

Madelyn stays quiet, but this time, she finally turns her head to look at you. Her eyes are wide and vulnerable, and it’s all you can do to hold back the swell of emotion threatening to break free. She’s asking with just a look—Can I stay? Can you keep me safe?

But you can’t. You’ve done what you promised. You can’t be her protector forever, and you both know it. She needs her family now, the people who can be there for her in ways you can’t.

“I’ll always be here if you need me,” you say, your voice steady, though your heart is anything but. “But you’ve got your grandparents now. They love you, and they’re going to take care of you. You’ll be safe with them, just like I promised you.”

Maddie looks down at her bunny again, as if deciding whether to give it up. For a long moment, she just holds it, her fingers tracing the worn fabric. You don’t push her. She needs to come to this decision herself, in her own time. But eventually, she looks up at you, and her face is as serious as it’s ever been.

“I want you to have him,” she says quietly. “He keeps me safe. Maybe he can keep you safe too.”

Your throat tightens at the simple, honest offer. The bunny—her constant companion, the thing that has been with her through every terrifying moment, every flash of panic—is now being entrusted to you. You can feel the weight of it, of the trust in her small hands as she holds it out to you.

For a brief moment, you hesitate. You weren’t expecting this. You didn’t want this. You didn’t want to accept anything from her, to make it feel like a goodbye, like this was the end. But the way she’s looking at you—her eyes filled with the kind of vulnerability that only a child could show—it’s a gift. A gesture of complete trust.

You reach out, slowly, your fingers brushing against hers as she places the stuffed animal into your hands. You don’t say anything at first. You don’t need to. The weight of the moment says it all.

“I’ll look after him,” you say finally, your voice soft. “I promise,”

Maddie gives a small nod, her lip trembling slightly, but she doesn’t cry. She doesn’t need to. She knows she’s safe now. She knows that the danger is over, even though it’s going to take a long time for her to truly feel like it. But she trusts you. That’s what matters most.

Her grandparents step forward now, gentle and patient. Her grandmother reaches out, her hand trembling slightly, but Madelyn doesn’t move. She looks up at you one last time, and it’s like she’s asking you for permission. You nod, brushing a hand over her hair one last time, offering her the comfort and security she’s going to need in the days to come.

“You’re going to be okay, Maddie,” you repeat, knowing it’s true. You’ve done everything you could for her, and now it’s time to let go.

Madelyn doesn’t look back as her grandparents gently lead her out of the room. She doesn’t cry, though you’re sure the tears will come later. For now, she’s holding herself together, with the knowledge that she’s safe, and that she’s going to be okay.

—

The hum of the office is soothing in its familiar monotony. You step inside, the heavy weight of the case finally lifting from your shoulders. It’s strange—part of you feels relief, the other part feels like an echo of something left behind. Something you didn’t quite expect to feel, but there it is, nestled in your chest, quietly tugging at you.

You take a deep breath and walk to your desk, setting down your bag and the files you’ve been carrying all day. Then, without really thinking about it, you place the stuffed animal on the corner of your desk, the soft bunny now a permanent fixture in the workspace that’s been both home and battlefield for so long.

It’s a small thing, but it’s a thing that means something. And as soon as you set it down, you feel a soft exhale escape your lips. A sense of finality, of closure, as if everything has settled into place.

The case is over. Madelyn is safe. But something about this—about the stuffed animal—feels like a piece of you that will always remain in that small room with her, in the moment when you promised to keep her safe.

You don’t realise Spencer is watching you until you hear his soft voice.

“She gave it to you,” he says, a quiet smile tugging at his lips.

You glance over at him, momentarily surprised. His gaze is soft, understanding, and there’s a certain warmth in his eyes that you’re not sure you’re ready for.

You glance back at the bunny and then back at Spencer. It’s an odd feeling—the way he’s looking at you, almost as if he sees more than just the case, more than just the professional side of you. He sees the part of you that changed over the past 36 hours.

“She did,” you say, your voice low, not quite sure what to say after that. It’s true, but you hadn’t really thought it through. You hadn’t thought about what this moment would mean.

“You didn’t have to take it,” Spencer offers gently, taking a step closer. “But I think it’s... a good thing. That you did.”

You swallow, unsure how to process the mix of emotions stirring in your chest. It’s strange, this feeling. The feeling of having kept a promise, of having kept someone safe. You’ve done this kind of work before, but never like this. Never with this kind of personal connection.

“Yeah,” you say, your voice thick with something you can’t quite put into words.

Spencer steps closer, his posture relaxed, yet there’s an unspoken care in his movements. He looks at you—softly, steadily—and you feel the warmth of his presence settle around you. He reaches a hand out, his fingers brushing over the edge of your waist. It’s a gesture that’s comforting, gentle, not pushing, just there.

“You okay?” he asks, his voice barely above a whisper, as if he’s afraid of breaking the moment. His touch is subtle, yet you can feel the tenderness in his gesture.

You nod, but the answer feels incomplete. How do you explain that you're fine, but also changed? How do you explain that the girl who clung to you, who trusted you with her safety, left something inside you that you hadn’t expected to find?

“I’m fine,” you say finally, because it’s easier to say than to explain.

Spencer doesn’t press, doesn’t ask for more details. He just gives a soft nod, his fingers still lingering for a moment longer than necessary before he steps back slightly. He doesn’t push. He’s always been good at giving space when needed.

“Want me to take you home?” he asks, his voice gentle. “Or… we could just go somewhere. Get some food. Something to relax.”

The offer is simple, but you can tell that it’s more than that. It’s his way of letting you know he’s there for you, not out of obligation, but because he wants to be. Because he sees you in a way that not many people do.

The soft affection in his voice, the quiet care in his words—it’s enough to make you feel like maybe, just maybe, you’re not as alone as you’ve felt in the past.

You glance at him, a soft smile tugging at the corner of your lips. For a moment, the world outside the office fades, and it’s just the two of you. He’s standing there, so patient, so steady, and the weight of the last 36 hours begins to feel a little less heavy with him around.

“That’s be nice,” you say finally, surprising yourself with the answer. You don’t know why, but you do. You could go home, retreat into the silence of your apartment, but there’s something about the idea of being with him—of having someone there, someone who understands, someone who’s seen the way you’ve changed—that feels better.

Spencer smiles, a quiet relief crossing his face. He steps forward, offering you a hand, and you take it without hesitation. His fingers close around yours, warm and comforting. It’s a simple gesture, but it feels like a promise, like something new is beginning.

“Let’s go then,” he says, giving your hand a gentle squeeze.

[raccoonytoony-boy]

Im bored so im gonna do this <3

1. I Don't Smoke - Mitski

2. Derry Girls

3. Reading- I love escapism + it improves my writing!!

4. Being held by someone bigger than me

5. Lie in bed, put on some Lana del Rey or an audiobook and read or write in my journal

6. I don't have/have never had any candles (my dad has bad asthma)

7. My online friends

8. Wool but specifically for socks

9. My school play

10. Watching the National Theatre Live: The Importance of Being Earnest

11. My fuggler- he has a baby! (they're called Jeremy and Baby Jeremy)

12. Lana del Rey's poetry

13. Bath always

14. Going to Dublin for 2 days with my mam!

15. Pork ribs

16. Not sure

17. Physical affection and pet names

18. 18-21 (college years)

19. I've written one that I never sent, and never received one

20. My nan crying when I first learned to read and started reading to her

21. Tea or coffee

22. I probably don't like you

23. Unfortunately not

24. I don't have one :(

25. Maybe a nice not harsh shade of red

26. I would live in a dark academia cottage or country house in the irish country side with an older man, I wouldn't bring anyone and it would just be us two

27. I tried to grow a marigold when I was little but killed it

28. My academic ability

29. It really depends, I try to be but I know some of my views are toxic

30. Writing, reading, listening, drawing

✨soft asks✨

What song makes you feel better?

What is your go to comfort show?

Reading or writing? Why?

Whats your favorite feeling?

How do you like to take care of yourself?

What’s your favorite candle scent?

Who do you feel most like yourself around?

Whats a fabric/texture that’s nostalgic for you?

Best childhood moment?

When was the last time you laughed so hard you cried? (or just felt really good afterwards)

Do you have a comfort item? Tell us about it!

What calms you down?

Bath or shower to relax?

Whats something upcoming that you’re excited for?

Comfort food?

What’s something you want to create soon?

How do you feel best loved?

What age in life do you think you’ll feel most yourself at?

Have you ever written or received a love letter?

Tell us about a memory you hold close to your heart.

Tea, Coffee, or hot cocoa?

Name of your favorite playlist?

Have you ever received flowers?

Who is your bestfriend?

If your soul was a color, what would it be?

If you could live anywhere with anyone you want, where would it be and who would you bring?

Do you like to garden? Have you ever grown something?

What are you proudest of?

Are you a kind person?

What do your hobbies look like?

[mareastrorum]

C3 discourse really suffers from people seeing the traits of a single member of a group and attributing them to the entire group.

Bell’s Hells are not punk. Ashton is punk. Ashton is one member only. If you can explain to me how Orym is punk in a way that doesn’t butcher his character, I might believe you, but good luck with that.

The gods did not smite Aeor. The Arch Heart did. Several gods planned to destroy the city, several more opposed the city’s destruction, and one single god made the decision in a split second when the other option was to let an unidentified god die. The gods (plural) did not destroy the city. That was the myth we saw debunked in Downfall.

No one group can be blamed for the Schism because we don’t actually know what triggered it. All we know is that the Primordials (who had assisted in creating mortals) decided they now wanted to kill mortals, and the gods split into two factions based on how much they wanted to participate. It very well could have been a Betrayer that lashed out, or maybe a Primordial did, or maybe a Prime intervened at the start of the culling. We don’t know who started it, only what sides each entity landed on.

The gods did not start the Calamity. At least two Betrayers launched plans that relied entirely on mortals cooperating to help them break out, and guess what, so many mortals were willing to do it that several Betrayers broke out on the exact same day. Some Betrayers (at least Asmodeus and Gruumsh) and mortals started it, not gods as a complete and solely responsible group.

The Hells did not save the world. They saved some of the gods from being eaten by Predathos, and we don’t even know which ones, because assuming otherwise requires us to accept that there was no world in which any of them could have simply fled in different directions and at least a few escaped. Not everyone went to the Prometheus School of Running Away From Things. Matt also decided that the rest of the world actually would have been fine, so unless you was to say the world is the same thing as the gods (and therefore the Hells threatened the world at gunpoint to agree with them), you’re out of luck.

The Hells didn’t save Reilorans or other Ruidus-based species from genocide. The Mighty Nein and Vox Machina fought the Weave Mind and the Imperium, and Evoroa pleaded for her people to the congregation of national leaders at Vasselheim. Taking part in an already-planned scouting/sabotage mission doesn’t elevate them to saving an entire group of people, especially when they skipped out on the assassination part. (This also goes back to the saving the world thing about the Hells because they didn’t stop any explicitly labeled colonizers from doing anything.)

Nuance is a thing guys. It’s okay to be nuanced. Stop making blanket statements and then using it to argue that your Blorbo is Good Actually.

[moody-alcoholic]

This Is Going To Hurt

Part 2 - There's Pleasure In Pain

Summary: Poly141 x reader, established relationship, medic reader, kidnapped reader, mini fic.

CW: Dead dove don’t eat, mentions of torture, suicidal thoughts, childbirth, blood, medical stuff, medical inaccuracies.

AN: Yes I know about the show 'this is going to hurt' I haven't seen it but from what I do know it's good so check it out. Also as an aspiring midwife this was so fun to write.

Part 1

Enjoy <3

You don't know how long it’s been. 

Hours? A day? 

More people have questioned you, with new questions.

‘Where was the convoy heading?’

‘Who give you the intel.’

‘What are the Americans up to?’

Some of the questions you don’t even know the answers to. Makes it all the more easier to ignore them. It feels relentless, like it’s never going to stop. Death would be easier. 

You remember one of the first things you were told in training, a dead medic is no use to anyone. You remember once during a training exercise you ignored Price’s order to fall back, instead you ran into the field to pull someone out. 

It was the angriest you’d seen Price get. He screamed at you in front of everyone, chewed you out with the entire platoon watching. That was the night he told you he loved you, they all did. You’d never seen them get so emotional before, especially over a training exercise. 

‘You’re not allowed to put yourself in danger like we do. You need to keep us alive, and we’ll keep you alive.’ You remember John saying that, the way he apologised for screaming at you even though he was in the right. The sex that night was amazing. 

It makes you smile thinking about them. You’ve been thinking about them alot when you’re not being tortured. You have to assume they’re not coming for you, that's what you were taught. If you’re ever captured; don’t talk, don’t trade, don’t let them break you. Not that you have a choice over the last part, it’s all a test of willpower. 

You wonder how long it will be before they break you. You can handle the waterboarding to some extent, these people are evil though, terrorists, the worst of the worst. They don’t care about human rights, they’re not answering to any UN or even their own countries' laws. These people could do whatever they wanted to you and there is nothing you can do.

You secretly hope they’re coming for you, you’d like to imagine Simon and John tearing up buildings to find you, breaking the rules and hunting down every last person who laid a finger on you. They’re soldiers though, they have orders to follow, other people’s lives are at stake not just yours. 

You’re a liability now. They have no way of knowing what’s happening to you, if you’ve talked or where you are. You hope they know deep down you’ll keep your mouth shut. You’ll keep them safe, even if it is from a distance. 

The door to your room opens and you stand. A man walks in and grips your arm tight. You’ve stopped struggling, there’s no point. He walks you past the room you’re usually taken to, it makes your stomach drop. Somethings wrong, something’s changed. Maybe this is it and they’re going to kill you. 

You hear a woman scream, you dig your heels into the ground. The man says something in Arabic then continues to drag you along. This is bad, there is no way this ends well. You can still hear the woman screaming. Maybe they have someone else they’re torturing. He stops you outside a door and knocks. 

A few seconds later it opens. A man is standing there, he looks young, even with the beard, he’s the only person you’ve seen without his face covered. You hear a woman groan, he moves to the side and you see a woman bent over a table with another woman rubbing her back. 

You’re still taking in the scene when the man in front of you says something then pulls you into the room. The door is closed behind you, you look at him confused. 

“Do you know how to deliver a baby?” He asks, you recognise the accent. He’s the person who patched up your arm. 

“Do I look like I know how to deliver a baby?” 

“No, but you’re a woman and a medic.” He says “She’s Khaled's wife. If this baby dies he’ll kill me.” 

“Great, he's not going to like it if I kill her.” You scoff. This can’t be happening. 

“You’re dead anyway.” He says, it’s like a knife to the heart. Now you want to help even less. The other woman rubbing her back asks something in Arabic. 

“She’s been in labor for 13 hours, I think something is wrong, she’s not progressing.” The man asks. 

“Then take her to a hospital. I don’t know how to do this, I don’t even know where to start.” You say holding your hands up. The woman screams again and it makes your head ring. You look round the room, there’s a bed and some basic supplies but not much. 

The man goes over to a book he has laid out on the bed and brings it over. To your surprise it’s in english. 

“This is all I have, I’ve done everything so far.” You scan over the book and turn the page, you see diagrams of anatomy and pictures of a vaginal birth. You try to think of anything you know that could help. You’ve seen documentaries, you’ve learnt some things, you close your eyes for a second pinching the bridge of your nose. 

“Okay. Get her on the bed.” You say looking over at her. The man orders the women around, as she moves you see supplies on the table. You go over looking for gloves.

“Do you have anything sterile?” You ask, turning to look at him. He shakes his head.

“My bag, you must have taken it when you kidnapped me. It has sterile supplies in it.”

“We’ve used it already.” He says.

“All of it?” You ask shocked. There were enough supplies in there to last at least a week. 

“We needed the supplies.” He says. You sigh pulling on some gloves. What you have will just need to do. You go over to the bed and he follows, the woman's laid back hair is stuck to her face as her friend grips her hand and whispers at her in arabic. 

You let the adrenaline calm you, you ground yourself before you sit on the end of the bad. She looks down at you and grits her teeth through the contraction. Shit, you should be counting them right the time between them. You don’t have a watch you start counting in your head. 

“Do you know how far apart the contractions are?” You ask. He asks the woman who replies. 

“2 minutes sometimes 5 minutes.” He says. That’s good right? Means she might be ready to push soon.

“Has she had a baby before?” You ask. 

“This is her 6th.” 

“6th?” You turn back to look at him. You’re not sure what to do with that info though, Does that make her more or less of a high risk. At least she probably knows what to do by now, she probably knows more than you. 

“Can you ask her to pull her legs up. I need to check internally.” He talks and she nods, her friend helping her get comfortable - well as comfortable as she can be. You’re not sure you’ll be able to tell how dilated she is, it’s more to check if everything feels right. Although, you’re not sure what the vagina of a woman in labor is supposed to feel like. 

You smile at her, you have to be confident, she needs to have faith in you. You’re trying to be as gentle as you can, you doubt she’s had any pain relief. You don’t envy her right now, going through labor for 13 hours like this, in this heat, you do feel sorry for her. 

“I can feel the head.” You say, it gives you a boost of confidence. “Can you ask her if she’s had any urges to push?” 

You look over at her as she nods. You pull your hand out, you look down at blood on your fingers, your stomach sinks. 

“Is that bad?” The man asks looking over.

“I don’t think it’s fresh. It could be normal, she is pushing a baby out.” You say taking the gloves off. You walk over to the table to grab a towel and he joins you.

“What should we be worried about?” He asks in a low voice even though you don’t think the women can speak English. We, there's no we, it makes a lump form in your throat.

“Hemorrhage. I’m assuming you don’t have blood.” You say, he shakes his head. So that's a death sentence. 

“The cord could wrap around the baby's neck.” He says. That could be happening right now and you have no way of knowing. You turn back to look at her. There’s no way to monitor the baby right now, you have no idea if it’s in distress and that could be why the labor is taking so long. 

“If she’s having urges to push, maybe she could try?” You say. 

“What if that makes things worse?” 

“I don’t know you’re not exactly set up for a cesarean.” You say. He sighs, you can tell he’s nervous. You should be nervous but you think the surge of adrenaline is keeping you going. Besides, what's the worst that could happen to you? They kill you? They’re probably planning on that anyway. 

There’s a knock at the door and the man goes over to answer it. You watch him out of the corner of your eye hearing him talk. You look back down at the tools. You pick up another pair of gloves and a towel and go back over to the bed. 

You lay the towel out and pull the gloves on as the door closes and he comes back over to you.

“Have you ever done CPR on a baby before?” You ask him. Prepare for the worst, hope for the best.

“Only in practice.” You turn looking up at him confused. “I’m a doctor, well I was training to be one.” 

“You should be doing this, not me.” You scoff shaking your head

“I wanted to be a neurologist.” He says, you sigh, you don’t care, you’re mad he didn’t tell you. 

“Do you have something to clamp the cord with?” You ask looking over at him, he goes over to the table and comes back with an actual clamp. You take it from him and place it on the bed. The woman groans again and you look over at her.  

“Tell her we’re going to try pushing, after the next contraction.” You say getting yourself comfortable and moving her legs so they’re apart. You feel awkward all of a sudden, this is definitely not something you thought you would ever be doing, especially not here of all places, as a fucking hostage. 

You look down-holyfuckingshit. There’s the head. 

“Push, push, tell her to push.” You call as you move your body to get your hands into position. You’re not really sure what you're going to do. Support the head right? Don’t let it fall out of your hands. You’re shaking as she pushes and the head comes out. You see eyes, a nose and mouth. 

The lips are slightly blue, it makes you hold your breath. 

“Tell her keep going, she’s doing great.” You say. You need her to keep going, you need to get this baby out. As soon as the shoulders are through the rest is easy, it just flops out. You look up at her and smile as you reach over for the clamp. 

“I need another clamp.” You say, you place the baby on a towel. 

Why is it not crying? It should be crying. 

You wipe its face, nose and eyes. Cry dammit, you’ve never wanted to hear a baby cry more than anything. 

“Here.” He says handing you another clamp. You turn the baby on its side and start rubbing his back. You’ve seen people do this on TV before. 

“Come on, come on baby.” You mumble. When it cries you almost start too. You roll it on its back as its crying rings in your ears. You take the clamp out his hand. He has the scissors too, you nod at him. 

The woman is shuffling on the bed, she’s asking something. “She wants to know the sex.” the man asks. 

“B-boy. It’s a boy.” The words catch in your throat the adrenaline is wearing off now, you swallow hard you need to keep it together. Your hands shake as you cut the cord. The other woman has moved over to you holding her hands out. You nod, wrapping the baby and handing it to her.

You hear a knock on the door and the doctor leaves you. Or you guess he’s not really a doctor. You look back down between her legs. You’re not sure what to do now, you’ll have to wait for the after birth right? 

She’s not bleeding out though, that’s a good thing. You’re taking your gloves off looking over at the woman stroking her baby's head. You let yourself smile, holy shit you just delivered a baby. Johnny would love to hear about that. Your smile fades as you remember where you are. 

“They want to take you back.” The doctor says as he comes over to you. You nod looking at the person standing at the door. As you get up the woman calls out for you saying something in Arabic. You look over at the doctor. 

“She says thank you. And she hopes you have a safe journey home.” He looks away from you. You turn and smile at her nodding your head. 

“Congratulations.” You say and go over to the door. 

“Oh by the way.” You say turning back to him. “The placenta, when it comes, make sure it’s complete.” 

“How will I know if it’s complete?” He asks. 

“Maybe there’ll be something in the book.” You say shrugging. He nods as the man in the door reaches out, gripping your arm and pulling you out. 

___

The door to your cell opens. You watch as the doctor comes in carrying a plate of food and a bottle of water. Suddenly your stomach grumbles and your lips smack together as you realise how dry your mouth is. 

He sets them down on the slab of concrete you think is supposed to be a bed. You look over on the plate, there’s flatbread and what looks like hummus. You don’t care what it is, you’re so hungry you’ll eat anything. 

You look back over at him, if you eat you’re breaking down your defences, gathering your strength just so they can torture you more. You are so hungry though, the weaker you get the more likely you are to give up intel you know you shouldn’t. 

“It’s not poisoned or anything.” He says you look over at him, you hadn't even thought about that. 

“How’s the baby?” 

“Good, they’re both good.” He says leaning against the door. 

“Where did you study?” You ask. 

“America, Princeton university.” He says. 

“Fuck me, and you chose to come here?” You scoff. He doesn’t reply, pressing his lips together. 

“You should eat, you might not get another chance. They won’t leave the plate in here.” He says nodding at the food.

“What? I deliver your leader's son and I get some hummus?” You spit at him, you want the food less now. 

“Better than letting you starve.” He says. Starvation would be a pretty horrible way to die. You shuffle over to the plate, opening the water bottle first and trying not to drink it down so fast. You can’t help it though, you don’t even care that it’s warm, it feels like you haven’t had a drink in weeks. 

When you’re done you put it back down letting out  breath. You pick up one of the flatbreads and pull some off dipping it into the hummus. 

“Why’d you leave America?” You ask. 

“I couldn’t stand it. I thought it was the way to a better life. Then I saw all the abominations, I had to leave.” He says, you raise an eyebrow at him. 

“Why are you here fighting in a war that isn’t yours to fight?” He asks, theres hostility in his voice. 

“You keep blowing shit up in our country.” You say as you dip more bread. 

“You’re special forces or something aren’t you?” It makes you stop chewing, you look up at him. 

“I’m a medic.” You say.

“No ones ever lasted through torture the way you do. Most of them give up after a few hours, or a day.” He says. So it’s been longer than a day, you don’t know if you should be glad or not. It’s been over 24 hours and they still haven't come. 

You look down at the food, suddenly it’s sitting heavy in your stomach. You remember the feeling of ingesting all the water and the feeling of it coming back out when your stomach’s full. You put the bread down and push the plate away. 

“My name is Sayyid.” He says bending down to pick up the plate. 

"I'm not going to tell you my name." You say. He nods pressing his lips together.

"Good luck" He says, nodding and leaving the room. You don't need luck, you need to get the hell out of here.

___

The car ride went in silence. No witty remarks from Johnny. There’s no filling the deafening silence, the only noise is coming from the engine and the wheels turning on the dirt roads. 

48 hours that's how much time Lawell could realistically buy them, if Shepherd was going to send shadows after them they have to move quick. Ghost pulls the car up to the building. 

This is the closest they can get to the next town without being spotted, there's an al-qatala base there. That’s where they’ll get intel, that's where they’ll find out where you are. It’s too late now though, the journey to get here was long. 

“Gaz, Soap clear the place, we’ll wait here.” Price says as Ghost turns the engine off. There’s no reply, just the sound of doors opening and closing. Price watches them walk round the car and over to the front door. The building will be empty, as soon as they’ve confirmed that though, they can hide the car. 

“I shouldn't have put her at the back.” Price says as he watches Gaz and Soap enter the building. 

“It was the right call.” Ghost replies. Price sighs, yeah it was, he didn’t expect things to go so wrong though. Ghost's hand lands on his thigh, he looks over at him. He can see the softness in his eyes. 

“We’ll get her back, John.” 

“I know, I just hope we’re not too late.” 

Banners by plum98

[aliceinborderlandsquidgame]

Not on the carpet! | The Salesman x Wife!Reader |

Notes: Different from the other ones. Reader knows what his husband does for work.

Summary: Your dear Husband comes home with blood and all you want is it to not touch the dam carpet!!

Warnings: Blood - Canon Violence - Suggestive -

The Salesman knows he is not looking his best right now. Not after having to kill some people who were getting too close to the truth of the games.

And he knows what his dear wife will say once he opens the door. Instead of a warm smile a look of panic will be there. Not for him.

"Dont let that blood fall on the carpet!" You tell him in a stern tone coming to greet him when you did hear the door open but stopped after seeing the blood on him.

"Hello my Love. I hope your day went better than mine" He says pulling off his suit jacket but not moving from the entrance.

Last time he did get blood on the carpet not only was he forced to clean it himself. He was banned to the guest room (no problem the bed its comfortable). But his lovely wife banned him of sex. For a week. And she did nothing but keep temting him all week. Wearing pajama shorts that barely covered her ass and let him see her legs. Light colored shirts that let him see her tits and nippels.

Oh, how he wanted to just throw you over the table and fuck you nice and rough. Make you forget your name and only know his. He wanted you to regret it.

But he had to demostrate he did have some self control. So on the last night exaclty when the clock did hit the final time he was on you like a dog in heat. Pulling you over his lap, touching all the exposed skin and leaving bruises behind.

And while that sex was amazing. He would prefer to not be on another week without sex.

"Here" You did appear again giving him a big plastic bowl so he could put his dirty clothes in. "I will wash it later. I can only imagine how much of a pain its going to be" Your face did show the small anger towards it.

"Sorry Love. But the blood of these worms seems to be as dirty as them" He responded removing his tie too.

"You are not injured, right?" You asked seeing some blood on his cheeck but he just dismisses your question with a move of his hand. "Good. Let me get you some cotton and water then"

"Im finally allowed inside my home?" He half joked as he saw you go then do a stop and look back at him. "It did not get on my shirt I promise"

He remembers that one time when it did get on his shirt. He had to sat for then minutes of you scolding him.

"...Then come. But you know what will happen if I see a single blood drop!"

The Saledman groaned following you into the big bathroom taking a seat on the toilet. "Not sex ban again my Love" He begged pulling you close so he could get his face against your stomach "Jerking off to pictures of you or videos of us its never enough. I need the real thing" To add his point he gives your ass a firm grip.

You try to ignore him as you get some water and cotton to clean off the blood from his face.

"Dont be a baby" Its your response as you slowly clean his handsome face. Glad to see that there are not injuries but just dry blood as he said. "And you did make up for it when the week ended" You added the memory still fresh on your mind.

"I came so fast" He says his eyes never leaving you. Him falling for you soft touch. "I was inside you and then I just filled you up so fast" he sounded so dissapointed with himself.

"You did. But it was a lot. I believe we should let your balls get as much cum as they can so you can fill me up really nice"

The Salesman let out a small sound between a laught and a groan. "Dont make me pull you against that wall...I still need to shower so you dont get the smell of these men"

You smiled at his possessive nature giving him a kiss on the head once you were done cleaning him.

"And I havent finish making your favorite food. So looks like we both will have to attend diferent things before I can greet you properly"

"You are my favorite food. You always taste so divine. I wish I could be between your legs all day. Making you cum over and over again. Getting all of hit on my face and chin. I will lick it up so good. You would be crying from how much stimulation you are getting. But I know you would not care about it. You would let me keep going, because you love me. And you love what I do to you"

You blushed hard under his gaze and his smirk. He was not wrong. And that scene did happen once. You were so wasted after it...you could barely walk let alone think straight. You were like a doll and he loved it. He loved being the cause of your pleasure.

"Yeah well. Maybe later" one look from him made you crumble. There was not a "maybe" it was a "defenetly" and part of you believed he would not wait till you ended dinner.

"Its a promise my Love" He said kissing your hand and wrist. He closed his eyes as he smelled your skin. Oh how he loved it. It was just...you and it was all he needed. "Go and try finishing that dinner for me. But...maybe I will skip it and go for the special plate of the house"

You let out a small smile your face burning. "Go on, get on that shower first" You said leaving him to be "I will bring you a new set of fresh clothes"

"Thanks Love" Your Husband responded removing his shirt in order to get inside the shower, his mind already thinking on the idea of having you for himself once he removes the smell of these worms from himself.

And, oh how much he is going to enjoy every second of it.

[astercontrol]

god.

this is so painfully true.

and yet...

I feel where that behavior is coming from.

I am an autistic person who has gotten pretty damn skilled over the years at both reading these vague social cues and finding tactful ways around having to use them... but when I was younger, I used to have a lot of trouble picking up on them, and this caused no end of social turmoil.

But, back then, I was also not someone who took blunt criticism well.

I wanted to! I struggled to learn how to accept it! But in the moment, the emotions would just be too overwhelming for me. Usually I'd take it with initial shock and dumbfounded silent nodding-- but then as the reality set in I'd eventually have either a devastated crying fit, or a tantrum, or both.

Which could have a sudden and frightening onset, and I can 100% see why people were too scared to trigger that in me, even if they knew that hiding it was only delaying and probably worsening the problem.

And what's more, I grew up in a household where everyone else (except my mom, who'd learned to repress her emotions even more than normal just to survive there) was pretty much the same.

And, as I grew up, I learned that a fairly large number of people, in and out of my family-- both autistic and otherwise-- are that way. Prone to reacting in volatile, scary ways to any kind of direct criticism.

So I, too, a lot of the time, ended up too afraid to tell anyone honestly when I had a problem with them. Despite knowing that the silence wasn't helping either. Same sort of feeling you get walking around with some horrible festering wound, knowing that it's killing you slowly, knowing your only way to fix it is to cut off your own limb, but never quite brave enough to do that.

And realizing others probably felt the same about me.

In short, for a lot of my life, I was both someone who needed open and honest communication in order to figure out what was going on-- and also someone who was both 1. too scared to do that to others, and 2. too scary for others to do it to me.

...It sucked.

And I am still not certain how much of this was autism-related and how much of it was fucking Minnesota-related.

I saw some snippet of a callout post for an autistic trans woman where they list social faux pas she committed, and I think we allistic people should all feel 100x more ashamed of not telling people in the moment how we feel about what they're doing. I think its extremely evil and cruel to not only lie to an autistic person and blame them for it but also to feel justified shaming them for your behavior. And it's currently the social norm to do that

[neeeooon]

hellooooo, could i request a drabble of how the blue lock guys would be with their daughter's first boyfriend?

a few specific characters i'd like are: sae, rin, nagi, and kaiser. but you can add/remove characters as you'd like.

no pressure, and thank you!

ooooo okay np thank you for the request!!

meeting their daughter’s first boyfriend ;

husband/father bllk reactions

itoshi sae

-> oh he is not pleased. he originally wanted to be nonchalant about it and try not to embarrass your daughter, but the second the boyfriend appeared, sae is on his feet. “you. i’d like a word. alone.” you can practically hear the poor boy’s gulp as he follows after your husband

-> “is dad gonna kill him?” “no, sweetheart… at least i don’t think so.” “?!”

-> they’re back a minute later, the boy’s face bright red and your husband standing there with a satisfied smile. “have fun, you two!” he calls after they leave

-> you give him a nudge. “what did you say to him?” sae just shrugs and placed a kiss on your head. “he’s a good one.”

itoshi rin

-> “you know, i once killed a man.” “dad!” “that’s.. nice.. mr. itoshi—“ “i’ll do it again if you don’t have her home before 7 pm.” “oh my gosh, you’re so embarrassing!!”

-> he watches them from the door until the car disappears in the distance, and you shake your head when you feel how tense he is. “rin, he’s a sweet boy! don’t scare him too bad.” “i’ll kill him.” “that’s nice, sweetheart. tea?” “… fine.”

nagi seishiro

-> the dad that doesn’t have to say anything to freak your daughter’s poor boyfriend half to death

-> “i’ll, uh, have her back by 8.” nagi just stares at him. “no, i meant 7.” nagi blinks slowly. “5! she’ll be home by 5!!” no words are exchanged, but it’s clear that nagi approves

-> once they leave, you laugh and give your husband’s arm a squeeze. “i really thought that boy was gonna pee himself.” “i didn’t even say anything.” “you didn’t have to, hun.” “hm. strange.” you just chuckle and kiss his cheek. “strange indeed.”

michael kaiser

-> you swat at his chest with the back of your hand when he cracks his knuckles and shoots a menacing glare in the poor boy’s direction when he reaches for your daughter’s hand. she looks pleased. kaiser, not so much

-> “hands where i can see then, boy.” “but.. my hands are where—“ “oh, so we’re talking back now, huh?” “!!!”

-> your daughter only sighs and lifts their entertained hands, to which kaiser sucks in a sharp breath and looks away as if physically pained. “dad. stop weird and trying to scare him off. he’s good to me!” “fine, fine, just please stop holding hands!”

[pboogerswbb]

SO IT GOES - chapter 11

Paige Bueckers x oc Warnings: language, sexual content (smut), uhh badly proofread Wordcount: 7.7K A/C: hii i know i know i promised this yesterday but i nearly had a panic attack so i couldn't, my bad. i'm good now! please enjoy this before paige's last game at XL :((

-

Before London

“So as everyone can see, here we have a list of statistics showing the viewership per video and definitely can see an increase from last year, content with Paige seems to do extremely well like we…”

Linda’s voice blends into the background sounds of cutlery and plates and chatter filling the dining hall. For some reason my boss thought an impromptu media team meeting was in order and showed up to College Park Center unannounced. She wanted to catch up on what sort of content attracted most viewership, and to evaluate what worked and what didn’t. I couldn’t have cared less - all I knew is I was doing a good job, fantastic even. I’m not sure why I had to sit through something I already knew just to have Linda reiterate it to me. It wasn’t like me to be resistant to a meeting, or to praise from my superior but I was far too distracted.

My eyes involuntarily keep travelling to the table on the far right where Paige was sitting with her teammates, voice echoing around the walls of the building. A sound I fear I might never get tired of. The blonde is leaning back on her chair, chugging water, biceps more prominent than usual after spending all morning in the weight room. I knew this because she had driven me to work, despite having time off saying she needed to lift. I knew it wasn’t in her schedule as I had, almost accidentally, memorised it. Still there she had been, outside my door with a hazelnut latte, always somehow the perfect temperature whenever she brought me my coffee order. I hated when it was too hot.

As if sensing me, her blue eyes shift from Arike to me, locking with my gaze. Immediately I blush, trying to hide the smirk growing onto my face. But I can’t, so I cover my mouth with my hand to hide it from the team, particularly Linda, Paige’s mouth twisting into a bright smile in response. Yet we don’t break eye contact, keeping our eyes on each other.

Linda had been surprisingly credulous to my claims of a migraine when I missed work just a couple days ago. Since the night the blonde turned my entire world on its head. I hadn’t been able to think of anything ever since except the weight of her lips on my skin, her eager touch and starved eyes. I had been craving her every second since we drove back to Dallas. I needed more. As much as it pained me to admit.

With a grin on her face, Paige grabs her phone and types for a while, my screen lighting up with a notification.

Paige

Did i say how beautiful you look today yet

I blush, tapping underneath the table.

You did. A few times in the car.

Matter of fact she had been repeating it between sentences, and almost crashed the car twice because of how badly she had been staring.

Gotta tell you again

Takin my breath away all the way from over there

Finest girl I swearrrrr

I can’t help but smile.

You look like you’re breathing fine 🙄

I lift my gaze, seeing the blonde rubbing her chest and looking at her phone with a smirk.

Trust me ma

What Linda doin here?

Some sort of unnecessary meeting, I’m not sure why.

What time you getting off work?

I have a couple things to do after this but if you’re done you can go home, I’ll take a cab.

Fuck no i’ll wait

I could do some stretchin

You should join me

I let out a silent chuckle, shaking my head to myself.

Paige!!

What??? Would be good for those tense muscles yk

Could think of sum other stuff to relax you too 😏😏

With a scoff I glance at the blonde who’s already looking with a playful, devilish grin. I look at her scoldingly, watching as she raises her brows and bites her lower lip to kill the smile before pointing at her phone, showing me she wants me to reply.

Why do I have an idea of what that might be?

Yeah? 

“So what do you think Izara?” Linda asks, snapping me back to reality.

“Uhh… Of?” I murmur, placing my phone screen down onto the table, thighs burning with the memory of how good the blonde had made me feel just a few days before.

“Do you think we can reach our goal followers-wise or are we being too ambitious?”

I quickly pull myself together, though I’ve barely heard a word. “Certainly if we keep pumping out content every day.” I don’t actually even know what goal we’re talking about.

However, my answer satisfies Linda, her mouth twisting into a smile. “Excellent!”

“Excuse me,” I hum, getting up from the table to grab an extra bottle of water. Paige, who has been watching, does the same, unable to not take advantage of the opportunity to talk to me.

I feel a gentle bump on my arm, eyes immediately snapping to the girl who’s looking smug as I eye the bottles.

“Hey pretty girl,” she whispers, placing a hand on my lower back. I quickly glance back at the media team to make sure no one was looking. To my relief they’re all too busy leaning in to stare at Trey who’s showcasing our latest content on his phone.

“Hey you,” I reply, my voice soft, quiet so no one can hear. Paige stands behind me, eyes skimming the different bottles of drinks as if mulling over her decision on what to get. But I know better. She’s stalling to stay talking to me. We had barely had any time to spend alone, my mind too busy wrapped up with work, Paige spending every waking moment on the court trying to get her shot back.

“What are you doing tonight?” I ask, reaching over for the bottle and holding it in my hand. Paige thinks for a second, grabbing a bottle of gatorade. All I can do is stare at her hands, mesmerised. Perfect hands that made me feel so incredible.

“Uhh nothing, why?”

“I’m coming over.”

Paige’s ears turn red, as she clears her throat, the idea immediately getting the younger girl flustered.

“Y-Yeah okay Iz,” she whispers, voice trembling a little. The effect I have on the girl makes me smile. It pleased me to know I had so much power over her. Little did she know she held just as much power over me, I was just much better at hiding it. However, my cheeks turn a hint of pink thinking about the possibilities of what might happen once we get a moment alone.

“Okay Paige,” I smile, eyes stuck on her flushed face. “I’ll see you in a couple hours.”

-

Waiting a couple hours had turned out to be much harder than I had planned, the thought of Paige’s hands on my body enough to have me growing wet in a matter of minutes. I couldn’t bear to wait a moment longer to feel the younger girl on me. Paige had felt the same, which had led us to our current predicament, my back pushed against the door of the storage room, the girl kissing my neck feverishly as my hands roam her body. The door handle digs into my lower back painfully but I barely notice.

“Paige,” I whimper, but she silences me with a heated kiss, tongue slipping past my lips into my mouth. My kisses are needy, desperate, a quiet moan spilling out when Paige’s hand kneads my ass, my short skirt hiking up as she does.

“You’re so sexy ma,” the blonde groans, lips glistening as she pulls back to look at me. “Killing me in a skirt like that.”

“Wore it for you,” I tease. Paige melts, moaning just from my words.

My arms wrap around her shoulders as I pull her back into a sloppy, open-mouthed kiss by her hair. The blonde groans, lifting my skirt to squeeze the bare skin underneath, eyes opening to see the purple silk panties I was wearing. I hadn’t been prepared for the first time we slept together the way I liked to be, but after a meeting with my wax lady and a vigorous exfoliation routine last night I was prepared for her, my skin silky and smooth all for her from my head to my toes.

“Look at that,” she whispers, pulling back enough to admire the underwear sitting against my golden skin. “Goddamn.”

“Want you,” I hum, looking at her with round, pleading eyes. Paige takes a deep breath through her nose, groaning as she throws her head back. I know I’m driving her insane.

“We can’t,” she mumbles, rubbing the bridge of her nose in frustration. I’m taken back, slightly embarrassed. I never thought she’d reject me.

“Why not?”

Paige notices the surprise in my face, her blue eyes widening. “No, I want to. So fucking bad, you got no idea baby,” she starts, looking me up and down.

“Then what’s the problem?” I ask, getting annoyed which in turn makes my brows furrow.

“Iz I can’t just keep sleeping with you,” she sighs. “You’re more than that. You deserve more.”

I shake my head, pulling Paige back in by her sweaty T-shirt. She kisses me softly, nuzzling her nose into mine.

“I don’t care. I want you,” I repeat, the ache between my thighs nearly unbearable.

“I care,” the girl whispers, resting her forehead on mine. “Need to take you out on a date before we… y’know.”

I’m surprised, my eyes fluttering open.

“Need to do this right Izzie,” she hums, kissing the top of my head. “Need to take you out before I do all the things I’ve been dying to do to you.”

I nearly collapse at her words, grateful for the strength of her grip on my hips.

“Oh,” I say, feeling the blonde pull my skirt back down hesitantly.

“Please, lemme treat you right ma,” she pleads, kissing both my cheeks softly. “Lemme take you out. Been dying to, ever since I saw you. Please.”

-

Taking a deep breath, I look at my reflection in the mirror once more. White shorts and a white oversized button up, both neatly pressed not a single wrinkle on them. I’ve really gotten tan here. I lean closer to add the signature diamond studs onto my ears, smoothing over the hair slicked back into a low bun. I check my nails one more time, making sure each one is short and filed up to my standards. No, not mine. Up to Izzie’s standards. I look good, I wanted everything to be perfect for her. For my gorgeous, perfect London girl.

I grab the huge bouquet of white lilies and head downstairs, toying with my silver chain as I knock on the door. I don’t remember the last time I had been nervous over a girl before Izzie. So much for my plans to stay celibate this season. Like clockwork, the door opens.

I feel breathless when I see her. She’s wearing a bronze coloured satin dress, the perfect contrast against her skin, with spaghetti straps and a slightly plunging neckline, her breasts on display just enough to make me wanna look for a little too long. The dress isn’t too tight, clinging to her curves in all the right places, the hem ending at her calves. Her skin glows from her arms decorated with gold bracelets, all the way down to her calves and feet, beautifully arched in matching sandals. Izzie looks stunning, glowing with the power of a hundred suns.

I let out a low whistle, unsure what to say. I feel flustered, nervous in front of her. It was as if I was seeing her for the first time all over again, two months ago in this same hallway. 

“Whoa,” is all I can say, my palms sweating already.

Izzie giggles and then she does something I’ll never get over. She simply tilts her head, sharp eyes sparkling at me, slender fingers reaching over and fixing the collar of my shirt. And my knees nearly buckle.

“We don’t need to go out,” I mutter, leaning down to kiss the girl. But she tuts softly, pulling back and placing two fingers on my chin to stop me sternly.

“Lipgloss,” she grins, pushing my face back by my jaw playfully. “And yes we do, took me three hours to get ready.”

I can see that, every strand of her black hair carefully set in uniform waves running down her back. All I can do is stare at her, mouth open.

“Paige?” Izzie giggles.

“What?” I ask, cheeks bright red.

“The flowers?”

I glance down at the bouquet in my hand, handing them to the girl. “Oh yeah, these are for you,” I laugh awkwardly, nearly unable to look the girl in the eye.

“I love lilies,” she gleams, inhaling their scent and humming contentedly.  

“I know, you told me,” I smile, stepping in as she turns her back on me to put the flowers in a vase. My eyes travel from her hair downwards to the curve of her ass just for a moment, fighting the urge to pull up the hem and dive between her legs. I quickly glance up, trying to keep myself in check. Date first. Be respectful.

“You remembered,” Izzie smiles to herself, setting the flowers onto her dining table. “They’re beautiful. Thank you.”

The girl turns to me, throwing her hands around my shoulders and kissing me lovingly. 

“What about your lipgloss?” I mumble against her lips, one hand on her lower back, the other on her neck pulling her in.

“I’ll reapply,” she sighs. I loved the way she was, meticulous and disciplined. But my God did I adore the way she had loosened up around me, the way she seemed to have a newfound ease about her. How she arrived to work yesterday wearing pants and flats, giggling with her co-workers lightheartedly, the pearls of her laughter echoing around every room she entered. 

“Shit,” I pull back from the kiss with a struggle. “I got us a car baby, we should go.”

Iz whines in a way that pulls at my heartstrings, her brows furrowing in desperation, tracing her fingers up and down my arms, squeezing my biceps that had grown exponentially during my time in the league.

“You look so gorgeous,” Izzie hums, smoothing over my collar one last time, leaning close and pressing a kiss onto my collarbone. My eyes flutter shut momentarily.

“C’mon,” I sigh. “If we don’t go now we ain’t ever gon leave.”

-

“Paige,” I gasp as she opens the car door for me and I realise where we are. 

“What? You like?” The blonde grins, offering her hand to help me out and watching my face for approval. I step onto the pavement, wrapping my arm around hers as we walk into the building, the doorman letting us in with a polite smile. We step into the gorgeous, high-end restaurant, Paige smoothly letting the hostess know that we had arrived. 

I had mentioned Monarch countless times in conversation, brought up how the customer from Dallas that left an irrevocable mark on me made me swear to dine there at least once in my life. It was on the pricier side, and I’d grown used to a certain lifestyle which my current pay couldn't maintain so I had been burning through my savings - it simply wasn’t in the budget. Except now, with this millionaire girl on my arm I suppose it did. Truthfully, I would’ve been happy with less. But I won’t lie that she really hit the nail on the head with this one. I mean she listened. Remembering my brother’s name, my favourite flower, now this? She really listened to me. I didn’t know it could be like this.

“Paige,” is all I can mutter out with a happy sigh, my mouth twisting to a smile. Paige tugs at her silver chain absentmindedly, her eyes flickering around the room before always landing back on me.

I slide myself into the booth, Paige following behind me, making me laugh.

“Paige, your plate is on that side,” I giggle, pointing to the set cutlery opposite of me. 

“I’ll ask em to move it over here,” she mumbles, her arm snaking around my waist and pulling me close so my side presses into hers, the pressure of her thigh on mine.

“Isn’t that gonna look a little silly?” I chuckle, watching as Paige reaches over the table and moves her entire table arrangement next to mine. I blush, looking around hoping no one noticed. This was a nice place. I could tell it wasn’t the blonde’s scene. Something about that made this even more endearing. It was all for me.

“Ion care if it does, it’s too far from you,” she whines, entangling her fingers with mine underneath the table. My eyes land on her blue ones, her face only a few inches from me. Paige licks her lips, her gaze flickering to my lips. I feel a familiar ache between my thighs return just from the sheer proximity of the blonde, and the smell of her cologne.

“Wanna kiss you so bad right now,” she whispers, both our breathing growing heavy. I nod, wanting the same. But we both knew it was better not to. After Luka was traded out of Dallas Paige was one of the biggest athletes in the entire city. A household name easily. We weren’t just sneaking around behind Linda’s back, we had to keep this on the low from the whole world. It’s not like we had to talk about it - we both knew it.

“Gotta wait,” I hum, jumping slightly as the waiter interrupts the moment, looking to take our orders. Paige, in her American manner, orders multiple side dishes and salads for us to share, the table filled with Wagyu Carpaccio and Octopus. But the real star of the night is the lamb, which the customer made me swear to get if I ever ended up at Monarch.

“Oh my Gosh,” I groan quietly, letting the meat melt into my mouth. I smooth the napkin on my lap, the luxurious linen smooth underneath my palm. Taking a sip of my Merlot, I notice Paige beside me, cutting the gorgeous lamb into multiple bite-size pieces before putting the knife down and beginning to eat with the fork. I watch, astonished, amused and embarrassed at the same time.

“You are so American,” I laugh, swallowing the wine and covering my mouth. The younger girl turns to me, confused.

“Whatchu mean?” She giggles but I eye her plate, rolling my eyes.

“Can you not eat with a fork and a knife at the same time?” I ask, raising my brows. Paige huffs, though the small curl a the corner of her mouth tells me she’s basking in my slightly condescending tone, the scolding lilt of my voice.

“Guess you’ll have to teach me your fancy English ways huh?”

“Oh my Gosh,” I sigh amused.

“The fork is in the wrong handddd,” she complains, continuing to eat, fork on the right hand. I make a mental note to teach her table manners before she meets my parents. Then, realising that she never would, decide to stay quiet. This is just a fling, a summer romance at most. A rebound - it’s what I tell myself to ease the slight panic in my chest when I thought more about what the end of the season would bring, me going back home to London, leaving my American girl here. My one summer in Dallas, cruel and much too short. Just a few months is all we’d ever get. Against my nature, I try not to worry about it, hoving the anxiety to some deep, dark corner of my mind, under all the other things I didn’t want to deal with.

The moment I notice my glass is empty, the blonde is already reaching for the jug of water and pouring me some. I watch closely, heart fluttering with affection.

-

Dinner is amazing, a dream come true. The food, of course, delicious. But even better is the satisfied smile on the dark haired girl’s face. The way her eyes gleamed every time she looked at me. The sound of her sweet laughter whenever I did anything she redeemed “American”. The slightly condescending manner with which she corrected my table manners, praising me every time I did something right. Every cell in me wanted to please her. Hear more of her “good job” and “that’s it”. Feel the hand on my shoulder squeezing, affirming her words. I was ecstatic, even more so knowing that this was just the first of many dates. That I would get to take Izara out for years to come, hear her praises forever if I played my cards right. And I desperately wanted this to be forever. I know I was going way too fast. But I couldn’t help my mind from picturing her in a white dress, playing with our children, waiting for me at home after practice.

“I’m so full,” Izzie sighs, leaning back against the booth and rubbing up and down my arm affectionately. “You did so good with this darling.”

I melt, my eyes nearly rolling back at her praise, never mind the pet name.

“Lemme order you some dessert,” I nearly whine, my plate finished much earlier than Izara’s.

The girl leans over and checks the dessert menu, quickly skimming it over and scrunching her face.

“You too full baby?”

“Could we just go out and get some ice cream from a stand?” The girl asks, her green eyes fluttering at me. How could I ever say no?

“You sure? They got some nice dessert here. Fancy,” I ask, flipping the menu over in my hand. I wanted the girl to have whatever she wanted. I wanted to give her the entire world.

Izzie nods, placing her hand on my thigh. “Don’t want fancy, just want some ice cream.” I’m surprised, thinking the fancier the better. Maybe I was wrong.

-

The Dallas night is still as hot as the day, but there’s a pleasant breeze in place of the scorching sun from earlier. Izara looks even more beautiful in the glow of the city lights and under the twinkling night sky. I can’t tear my eyes away, nearly running into a pole from staring at her so much.

“Could I taste yours?” Izzie asks, handing me her chocolate ice cream cone. Wordlessly, without hesitation, I give her my strawberry cone, honestly ready to turn around and order five more of them for her.

I watch closely as Izara’s tongue darts out to taste the ice cream, a jolt running down my spine to my core, with dirty thoughts flooding my mind.

“Mmh, this is delicious,” she murmurs.

“Take it,” I say without hesitation. Izzie hums, accepting my offer quickly. Almost as if she expected it. Something about it drove me wild.

We walk around the city, hand in hand, easily blending in with the crowd, not worrying about familiar faces, making sure that with every turn I was walking on the street side, keeping her safe. I felt proud walking side by side with Izara, knowing that people walking by knew she was all mine. That I got a girl like this, far from my league. I wanted everyone to know that she’s mine - having to keep this hidden would turn out to be much harder than I imagined. Still, the idea of this being our little secret felt exciting.

The breeze and the ice cream cause goosebumps to form all over Izzie’s arms, a slight chill running through her. I curse myself in my head for not bringing a sweater, making a mental note to never go anywhere without one for her from now on.

“You ever miss London?” I ask, pulling her closer by her waist out of the way of someone walking by.

“No,” she quickly replies, surprisingly bluntly. I’m taken aback.

“Not at all?”

Izzie shakes her head. “Too many bad things in London.”

I immediately understand what she means. Jasper. At least the desperate phone calls had seemed to stop.

“You really don’t miss anything?”

The dark haired girl thinks for a while. “Well, I miss the chocolate. Nothing here tastes like Cadbury.”

We walk around, eager to finish the chocolate ice cream Iz ordered, but I slow down, trying to match the pace with which she’s eating out of politeness. My blue eyes roam her face, trying to memorise each little detail. Her dark, perfectly arched brows, long lashes darkened with mascara, plump lips with only a hint of the lipstick from earlier, fading from eating the ice cream. Her dark curls stick to her neck, desperate to escape the carefully shaped waves, golden necklace dangling at her collarbone. I reach over, my cold fingers making the girl jump when they adjust the clasp, dragging against her skin from the base of her neck to the back.

We come to a stop, Izara’s green eyes lined with black glimmering, her face turning different colors as ads flash red, blue, green on a screen by the sidewalk. The words spill from between my lips faster than I can think, let alone stop myself.

“I really like you Iz,” I murmur, looking into the girl’s eyes. “I mean, I think I’m fallin’ for you.”

Her breath hitches, eyes softening only for a moment, and then widening. With surprise? With panic? I’m not sure. I wouldn’t blame her. It wasn’t something you said on a first date. I wanted to smack the back of my own head for that. I quickly look up, in a momentary prayer hoping God would let me rewind just 20 seconds. But no one answers my request.

“Shit, I’m sorry if it’s too much. You don’t gotta say anything okay?” I tell Izzie, avoiding her gaze.

“It’s okay love,” she smiles, thumb brushing against my skin comfortingly. However, I see a hint of hesitation on her face. “But Paige I thi-”

“Look, let’s just forget I said that aight?” I ask, my chest aching, begging to God I didn’t just ruin this before it could even start.

“Paige,” Iz sighs, trying to comfort me. But I could tell she felt uneasy about something. “I think we just gotta remember that we need to be really careful about this, yeah?”

I sigh nodding. She’s right. “Yeah.”

“I mean the stakes aren't the same for you and me. If we get caught,” she starts, letting out a heavy breath. “I’ll be back in London in no time. You however would be completely fine.”

I nod, wanting the girl to know I was really hearing her out. “Gon be really careful okay?”

“No slip ups.”

“No ma’am,” I answer reassuringly.

“And you can’t tell anyone. Not a soul. Not Arike, not Lou, no one. They can’t know.”

“I agree,” I tell the girl. “Look, I meant what I said. Whatever you want me to be I’mma be.”

The girl smiles, for a moment I think there’s a hint of sadness there, but it’s gone just as fast as it appeared. “Today’s been… amazing.”

I bite my lower lip, hand coming to her lower back just for a moment. There was nothing in this world that felt as good as hearing her praise. Maybe winning the national championship. Top two things I’ve ever experienced.

“Wanted it to be special for you, Iz,” I hum, blushing a little. Just as she’s about to answer, her phone rings.

“It’s Trey,” she murmurs. Of course it is. I can’t help but roll my eyes, watching as she raises the phone to her ear and answers. That’s how we walk back to the car, the girl next to me talking animatedly on the phone about whatever, my irritation growing with each moment. I knew they were friends. But everytime she giggled or laughed at whatever the man on the phone was saying, my jaw clenched and breathing grew heavier.

“Okay, Trey I really must go. I’ll see you in a couple days,” Izzie, who had been trying to politely end the call, says. I hear Trey’s defiant protests all the way from the driver’s seat, making me want to grab the girl’s phone and hang up for her.

Iz laughs politely at whatever he said. “Treeyy, I’ll talk to you about this at work okay? Alright, bye now.”

Finally, she hangs up.

“I’m so sorry, I thought it might be about work but he was just calling to explain about some sort of couch he was considering getting,” Iz chuckles, finally turning her gaze to me.I feel my annoyance settle down the moment her eyes land on me. Having her attention just had the effect of soothing me. Still, it bothered me that the girl was so oblivious to Trey’s obsession with her. I sigh, chewing on the inside of my cheek. 

“What?” Izzie asks, noticing my irritation as we sit in the parked car.

“You know he likes you, right?”

Izara rolls her eyes. “Don’t start with that again.”

“It’s true.”

“It’s not.”

I turn to her, raising my brows. “You prolly don’t see it but I do. He’s always calling or texting you, following you around or tryna touch you. All the time. He obsessed, trust.”

Izzie scoffs, turning to me. “I think you’re just reading into it too much.”

I shake my head. “He likes you.”

She looks like she's about to get defensive, but then her face softens. “Well, even if he does, I don’t care.”

“You don’t?” I ask, my voice growing needy.

“No darling,” she hums quietly, reaching over and placing her dainty hand on mine. “I couldn’t care less about Trey.”

My heart flutters, the warmth in my chest spreading all over my body, chills forming underneath her touch. All the frustration and annoyance that had been growing are replaced with affection now that I feel reassured

“Yeah?” I ask carefully, nearly flinching at how whiny it comes out.

Izzie smiles, leaning over the center console and kissing my cheek. I catch a whiff of the pear and lavender notes of her perfume, my head spinning.

“Yeah.”

I lean over too, my lips finally crashing against hers, both hands holding her face gently like a baby bird, doing everything in my power not to disrupt her. Her lips taste like strawberries, and a hint of red wine from dinner. The wine had loosened Izzie up, her body turning into putty in the passenger seat just from one kiss. 

Her hands wrap around my neck, scratching at the back of my neck to pull me impossibly closer. I groan, arousal growing quickly between my thighs. A passing car honks, reminding me of our surroundings and the fact that the windows were not tinted. At the sudden realisation, I pull back abruptly, wiping my lips. 

Izzie looks breathless, cheeks flushed and lips parted and glossy. 

You wanna come to mine, ma?” I ask, or rather plead. The thought of getting to bring her home after had been the only force to give me the strength to keep my hands to myself all night.

“Yes,” she simply exhales. I feel a thrill, pulling out of the parking lot and beginning to head towards our home, my hand never leaving her thigh, mind filled with the thoughts of lifting the skirt and diving into her.

-

My chest heaves as we climb the stairs, Izara’s heels tapping against the marble and echoing in the corridor. As I open the door, I let the dark-haired girl in, my heartbeat loud in my ears.

“Whoa,” she gasps. Stepping inside after her, I watch her face brighten as a trail of red rose petals on the floor leads all the way to the bedroom, just as I had set them before picking her up.

I step closer, pressing my front against her back, leaning down to kiss her neck as my hands find their position on her waist. I loved that even in heels she was a few inches shorter than me. Her body melts into me quickly, the curve of her ass pressing into my hips. The satin is smooth and cool under my fingertips, and her neck smells like her perfume and the fruity hair products she uses. Guava?

“You did this?” she asks, her voice gasping as my lips glide against her neck, feeling for her pulse under my kisses. 

Finally, I find the steady beating on the side of her long neck, my lips wrapping around it and sucking. Izzie exhales softly, her hands finding mine at her waist.

“Mhmm,” I hum, nuzzling my nose into her ear before kissing it feverishly. I needed her so desperately, like I had been travelling the desert for days and finally found an oasis filled with fresh water and sweet fruit and cool shade. I’m surprised I’m even able to stand upright.

“Oh so you knew I’d be coming over? That’s how you see me?” Her voice is stern, sending a jolt through my body. It makes me want to get on my knees and apologize, repent.

“N-No baby, I mean I was hopin’ but I didn’t assume. Iz, I swear I don-”

I’m joking, Paige,” she laughs, craning her neck to look into my face, an amused smile on her lips. My cheeks turn red as I laugh at myself.

I walk the girl forward, following the rose petals into the bedroom. They reach the bed, the white sheets decorated with the flower petals as well. Izara looks around, a smile on her face. I feel the ache between my thighs grow knowing I had made her happy.

Before I can say anything, she flips around to face me, kissing me heatedly. Her mouth is wide open against mine, tongue circling mine and fingers digging into my shoulders.

“Lemme light the candles,” I hiss, furrowing my brows and trying to pull away. But Izzie pulls me in by my collar, kissing me again.

“Fuck the candles,” she murmurs and, to my surprise, walks me backward into the bed.

I crash onto my back, Izzie pushing me down by my chest. “Let me dim the lights,” she says, but I grab her hand.

“Please don’t,” I whisper, my brows furrowing. “Wanna see you baby.”

She hesitates for a moment, but I grab her hand and bring it to my lips, kissing it gently. “Please.”

Izzie pulls her hand back, convinced by the simple gesture, and reaches behind her back to her zipper. She unzips the dress far too slow, driving me insane. I wanted her now. So I whine, furrowing my brows and squirming on the bed, but the girl only shakes her head, slipping one strap off her shoulder. I nearly pass out.

“Patience,” Iz tells me, her voice low and gravelly. I can’t look away, wetting my lips with my tongue as I watch the second strap fall from her shoulder, the dress finally hitting the floor.

“Oh shit,” I murmur to myself, my boxers growing wetter and wetter the moment I realise she wasn’t wearing a bra at all, her body only covered with black lace panties. My gaze is stuck on her chest though, her round breasts covered in goosebumps. Breathing heavy, I sit up, mouth watering to wrap my lips around her hard nipple, to knead the skin.

“Nuh uh,” Izzie snaps, pushing me back down onto my back. I feel a thrill, surprised to find how much this turned me on. I was so used to being the one in charge, I didn’t even know how insanely hot it would be for the dark haired girl to be giving me commands. Though, in hindsight, I probably should have known from the way my core throbbed everytime she demanded something from me.

“Iz,” I groan, watching as her nimble fingers begin to unbutton my shirt, painfully slowly. I feel like I might pass out.

“Remember what I said baby,” she hums, straddling my hips, thighs becoming even thicker on both sides of me as she sits down on them. Izzie leans down, lips hovering over my ear, hot breath tickling it. “Patience,” she whispers, and then ghosts my skin, leaving me writhing.

Finally she pulls my shirt open, revealing the white sports bra underneath. Her long nail drags from my neck downwards, to my chest, and finally to the muscles of my abdomen.

“You’re so beautiful,” I whine, watching the way her eyes darken as she gazes down at me. My hands come to her hips, easily reaching over to knead her ass. To my relief, she lets me, exhaling heavily and throwing her head back as I feel her skin. My hands feel up her sides, to her breast, kneading them in each hand and bucking my hips to look for any relief on my soaked core.

My chest heaves vigorously, right hand dragging downwards, down the skin of her stomach, fingertips dipping into the band. I needed to feel her. Now. I was dying, and I needed to make sure she didn’t feel like I did, desperate and throbbing.

“No,” Iz says, grabbing my wrist. I look at her pleadingly, eyes nearly welling up at the thought of how wet she might be.

“Please,” I whine. “Ride my fingers ma.”

Izzie’s eyes flutter shut at this, but sternly, she shakes her head. leaning down to kiss me. It’s sloppy, our tongues meeting in heated movements, spit covering both our mouths. The girl on top of me continues her open mouthed kisses, finding her way from my neck downwards. It’s then I realise what she’s about to do, the puddle between my legs growing unbearable.

I maneuver upward on the bed, too wet to notice the nervousness in the girl’s eyes when she starts kissing along the band of my shorts, hands coming to pull them down.

“Fuck ma,” I whimper, my entire body shaking with need. I had been dreaming of this moment, spent many hours lying in my bed with my hand between my legs imagining what her green, sharp, catlike eyes would look watching up at me.

She leaves me in my boxers, nails digging into my inner thighs as she spreads my legs apart.

“Please,” I murmur, eyes fluttering shut from how badly my cunt is soaking through the white boxers.

“What’s wrong my love?” Izzie asks, voice so sweet it’s bordering on condescending as she leans down between my legs, kissing my thighs, biting the skin. The wine had made her bolder, more liberated. It drove me insane.

“Need you baby,” I whine, bucking my hips. It’s no use, the dark haired girl’s hands holding my body still.

“What do you need from me darling?” She asks, fingertips playing with the band of my boxers in a way that made me want to flip her over and take her this very moment.

“Shit,” I hiss to myself, wiping the sweat off my forehead. “Baby please. touch me. Gon’ die if you don’t.”

“Yeah? You want my mouth?”

She’s pressing kisses on top of the soaked fabric of my boxers now, brushing lightly against my clit. I need more, so insanely bad. I feel like I might explode.

“Mhm,” I whimper, my voice shakier and needier than I liked - not that I cared much in this very moment.

“Tell me baby,” she smiles, looking up at my scrunched up face, slowly pulling down the last layer of fabric between her and where I needed her most.

“I-” I’m stuttering, overwhelmed, feeling like I might cum just purely from the sight. “Your mouth, mama, please.”

As I say the words, she pulls my boxers down, and begins to kiss around my wet cunt, everywhere but where I need her the most. Still, I’m moaning like crazy, knowing there must be a few concerned neighbours listening by now. I couldn’t care less.

Finally, the dark haired girl touches my clit, starting with small kitten licks. 

“That’s it, holy shit,” I gasp, hands coming down to her hair, trying to maintain the urge to yank it wherever I want her.

“Mhmm,” she moans against my core, lips wrapping around my clit and sucking gently. 

“Fuck, you’re so- holy shit,” I murmur, unable to think straight, legs already shaking, chest heaving uncontrollably. I can’t tear my eyes away from hers, as she looks up at me. my thighs on each side of her face.

“Taste so good,” she mumbles, a blush on her cheeks from the filthy words. Still, she keeps going, the vibrations of her moans bringing me closer and closer. Embarrassingly, it doesn’t take long for that familiar heat to start spreading in my abdomen, making my pussy throb around nothing as her tongue flicks back and forth in my folds.

“Make me feel so good, fuck baby, look at you,” I praise, my voice high pitched and whiny. “Look so fuckin’ pretty between my le- aw shit.”

I feel it, already growing hotter and hotter, the fire inside me making my muscles tense.

“I- I’m so cl-” I whimper, yanking on the girl’s hair.

“Baby,” Iz moans, wrapping her lips around my clit while her tongue flicks against it, making it impossible to hold back.

“Keep doin’ that, don’t stop. Don’t st-” I cry out, legs trembling and muscles tensing as the girl between my legs keeps pushing me closer and closer. “Shit mama, I’m gon’ cum.”

With that, I tip over the edge, pleasure crashing through my body, writhing and moaning. The orgasm is just as intense as it was fast, making my grip tighten around Izzie’s hair as she keeps up with the movement of her tongue.

As I come back down, the dark haired girl climbs back up, kissing me with authority. I feel embarrassed, from how wet her face is, and most of all from how fast I came. Couldn’t have been more than two minutes. It was something about her that made me yield, completely submit to her, my body too weak to fight it.

“Well that was quick,” Izzie giggles as she pulls away from me. I roll my eyes, flipping the girl on her back.

“Just wanted it to be your turn fast ma,” I mumble, beginning to kiss her neck.

-

“Oh fuck, fuck, fuck, P- Paige, fuck,” I cry out, tears filling my eyes as Paige presses on my lower back, pinning my hips down against the mattress. Her fingers are buried deep inside me, slipping in and out of me with a rapid pace, making my pussy drip all over the sheets. It was overwhelming, the strength of her fingers something I had never experienced before - what didn’t help was the three times I had already cum after she finished.

“Just one more, I promise. Swear baby. Can feel how much you’re throbbing around my fingers,” Paige coos, pressing sloppy kisses onto my sweaty back before sitting back up and kneading on the skin of my ass to get deeper inside me. Something about her filthy words made me willing to keep going, my orgasm building quickly from how sensitive I had been left after the past couple hours.

“Baby,” I cry out, grabbing the sheets desperately, tears spilling down my cheeks into the cotton blanket underneath me, sticking to my skin. 

“So perfect,” the blonde groans, eyes watching closely the way my pussy molded around her fingers, stretched out just for her, gushing around the long digits slipping in and out.

“P- I’m gonna-” I gasp, back arching as the muscles inside me coil tighter and tighter.

“C’mon ma, lemme make you cum,” she moans, leaning back down and kissing my ear, her hot breath sending chills all over as her fingers keep pumping into me. “So fuckin’ gorgeous you know that?”

With a high pitched whine, the coil finally snaps, my core clenching around her fingers as she makes me cum for the fourth time that night. My entire body trembles, hands grabbing the sheets desperately. The blonde brings her free hand to mine, long digits entangling with mine comfortingly.

“That’s it, fuck, look at you,” Paige murmurs into my ear, talking me through it as the waves of pleasure wash over me. I feel sore, tired, but in that moment everything else is forgotten, except the ecstasy taking over my entire existence, and the blonde’s praise in my ear.

“You are so fucking sexy,” the blonde whispers into my ear, slipping her fingers out of me and wrapping a comforting arm around me. In a haze, I nustle myself into her side, still attempting to slow down my rapid breathing.

I chuckle, finally opening my eyes and flipping onto my back. I couldn’t believe how many times she had just gotten me off. Most of all I couldn’t believe I let her do that all to me with all the lights on, and enjoyed it too much to even care. 

We both lie in each other’s arms, completely naked. Paige’s blonde hair is falling out of her bun, sweat glistening against her bare arms, covered in veins from the strain. She’s breathing loudly through her nose, watching my face. Surely I looked horrendous, makeup all over my face, hair fully out of place, curls wild and unruly. But the younger girl’s blue eyes continue to stare, soft and adoring. She leans in, pressing a soft kiss onto my forehead, loaded with emotion - feelings I wasn’t ready to face.

“You’re so beautiful,” Paige whispers, nuzzling her nose into mine. My heart flutters almost painfully. At that moment I know - I’m in trouble. That leaving Dallas behind after the season is over won’t be as effortless as I had hoped. I decide to worry about that later, wrapping my leg around the blonde and pressing my naked body against hers.

“So are you,” I murmur, letting Paige cocoon me with her big arms.

"One more time ma, please?"

-

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[mairon-goth-minion]

so I took some liberties with the prompt whoops word count: 1542

I remember the day I first met Cain like it was yesterday. It was a coincidence, as his parents took him to a ball the instant he turned eighteen despite his being sick. The same ball I attended after I’d just finished my training. He was young, I was younger and I was foolish, but foolishness is a trait shared by most seventeen years old, I believe. Nevertheless, not knowing who he was, not knowing that his station was far above mine and that he was not the son of a knight as I was but the heir to a duchy, I approached him.

Despite his feeble demeanor, he… shone. Was it his golden locks, falling as a river down to his waist? Was it his emerald eyes, brighter than any jewel I’d ever seen? Both? I do not know.

So I went towards him. At first, he looked surprised to see someone reaching out. Did he not know just how beautiful he was? His first words to me were “‘Who are you?’” ‘Hector of Redenbrough, but you can call me Hector. Or Hec. Whichever you prefer.’ I grinned. ‘Hector…’ he said, his voice but a whisper. ‘I am Cain.’

At first, I had believed that the lack of last name came from an embarrassment on his behalf, and had believed him to be born in a rather low station. I could not have been more wrong.

‘Well, Cain, will you offer me this dance?’ I could have asked anyone else, but I didn’t want to. It was all about Cain, and it always has been ever since. His cheeks flushed, he took my hand. It was plainly obvious that he’d never danced before, but I gently led him. I did not care about the amount of times he stepped on my foot. He was too light for it to hurt. It was a happy moment.

The second time we met, he was twenty five, and still terribly sick. A gaunt, pale thing. His father had passed and he had become the Duke of Sulinard, as well as my superior. I think that he recognized me, when he looked at the legions of knights standing in front of him, kneeling. Why else would he have chosen me to be his bodyguard? Was it a coincidence?

I remember the surprise that I’d felt that day, both because of learning his identity as one of the most powerful men in the Kingdom and because I was selected amongst so many others.

“‘Congrats, Hec!’” were words I heard many times, and I remember getting drunk in a tavern with friends, celebrating my new position.

It was a year later that things began growing sour. Cain’s health was rapidly declining, as were my hopes.

See, Cain and I had become friends. I don’t think that he ever had anyone to talk to before I came along and took him to the dance floor, and I didn’t mind spending my days talking with the most intelligent and beautiful person I’d ever met. He fascinated me. He was gentle and frail, but held within him an infinite curiosity for the world, and I could have spent my entire life merely watching Cain talk of things he’d read in his books. So when he was too weak to leave his bed, I became desperate.

I knew that his illness had no cure, and what could I, a mere knight, do when his rich family had tried everything? Well, there are certain things that desperate men will do when all hope seems lost that not even the vilest of humans would even consider. I made a pact with a vampire.

Following rumors and whispers, and after months of research, I found Hara in a small shepherd’s village, where she fed off of sheep. She was starving, and I offered her my blood in exchange for Cain’s life.

Hara didn’t want to, at first, having promised herself never to kill, but I was a desperate fool, and I would have done anything for Cain. So she drank, and drank, and drank, for the first time in her life. I think that she would have drank all of my blood had I not stopped her. When I brought her to Sulinard, Cain was on his deathbed. I was nearly too late. Everyone had lost hope, and he laid on the cold sheets alone with no one by his side.

I took his icy hand, pressing it to my lips, tears staining my cheeks as Hara sank her teeth into his neck. Was I a monster for doing this to him? After all, I had condemned him to an eternity of thirst for my selfish desire to remain by his side.

When she was done, Hara turned to me, grief in her eyes. ‘You know what you made me do, don’t you?’ ‘I do.’ ‘He will never forgive you.’ ‘I do not care if he hates me for ever, as long as I can see him smile one last time.’ I was compelled to honesty. ‘I do not care whether or not he lives an existence of misery, if it means that I know that he breathes still.’ ‘You condemn him to a life of shadows.’ ‘I know.’ ‘He will be hated.’ ‘I know.’ ‘He will be alone.’ ‘I know.’ Hara shook her head, furious. ‘You are the true monster here.’ ‘I know.’ She left, and I never saw her again. Perhaps she still feeds on sheep in faraway villages.

When Cain woke up, I cried of joy. My master had opened his eyes. ‘Hector? Wh- Why am I alive?’ When I told him what had happened, I saw horror in his eyes. ‘You did what?’ His voice was sharper than my sword, and I nearly flinched. ‘You are an undying, My Lord.’ ‘No,’ he said, crestfallen, looking truly afraid. The fear was soon replaced by a glorious fury I’d never seen before in his eyes. ‘WHY DID YOU DO THIS TO ME?’ ‘I couldn’t lose you.’ Grief flooded in his eyes as I said those words. ‘So I will be the one to lose you?’ Clenching my teeth, I nodded. ‘No,’ he whispered once more as the room became suddenly dark. ‘You will remain by my side, Hector, and you may never leave it.’ Shadows twirled all around us, lashing at my skin, leaving red bleeding wounds, but I did not scream nor feel any pain, too lost was I in his eyes, darker than the void of a starless night. ‘Magnificent…’ I murmured as the shadows tore open my chest and entered my heart. It was more pain than I’d ever felt before, shooting through my body as poisoned needles in my veins, and I screamed and screamed and screamed, crying of pain. Yet through this I laughed. I was happy that it was Cain who was hurting me. What a sick and twisted monster I am.

When I opened my eyes, I was in his bed, blood covering the sheets, and he was standing next to me, his clothes and mouth tainted red. Whose blood was it? I would have said mine had my flesh not been completely void of scars or wounds. I soon learned that it was the other members of this household whom he had killed. His mother, his sister, his servants, all of them. I did not mourn any. All that mattered was that Cain was still standing.

The shadows apparently had left a black mark on me, on the back of my neck. As long as he lived, I would too, and I was to belong to him forever. I was the happiest man alive.

For centuries, I stood by his side, as his bodyguard, as his friend, as his companion. I killed any person daring to try and harm him, and I did whatever he asked of me.

I am different than I was. At first, I remained a proud knight despite my belonging to a vampire, only slaying in duels or war. But now? I am no better than an animal. When I fight, it is no longer as a knight. I am a dog, a vicious one, a dog that’s lived for centuries by his master’s side. When I fight, it’s with my teeth and nails, in alleyways where no one can see the bodies of those whom I mutilate.

Cain still resents me, I think. He sent me to war many times. I have seen horrors. I have seen trenches of blood. I have seen the loss of faith. I have seen what Men can do when they let go of morals. Cain resents me but still he loves me, sharing with me his bed and body.

“‘Who are you?’” His words from a distant past echo in my ears, sometimes. Today, my answer would be ‘I am yours’.

You are the knight bodyguard of a vampire, but as the centuries went by it became less and less noble. Now you're mostly just a glorified servant, and when you fight it is not an honourable duel, it's shanking someone in an alleyway.

[patheticpomegranite]

sevika is so amazing because she's this super unfriendly, super strong, kind of morally grey woman who could kill you easily but she also has these large and super expressive eyes that give away how she feels so quickly. i feel like she kind of contrasts silco in this way, since silco is much better at controlling how he expresses himself but avoids physical confrotation.

i don't have enough images to prove my point but this one is close enough

like guys look at her! just like! do you know what i mean? like awwww! sevika i love you. badass woman who can kill you who has big sad puppy eyes.

i feel like we see more of this in season 2 because she is no longer in her element. i think she prefers and feels comfortable in the henchwoman role but with silco gone she no longer has that. i feel like it's easiest to see in scenes where she is more emotional than she thought she'd be about jinx or when she's put into the decision making position like the council member. not to say that she doesn't deserve the position, they should have zaunites on the council, but personally think zaun deserves a lot more than a council seat. i think she might not have preferred, i think she would have preferred if someone else became a councilor, but there seems to be no-one left.

[mommyslittlebird]

the puppy one is so cuuuuute please do more of it if you would!!! my mind is filled with wanda coming home to pup!reader who gets all excited about mama coming home, who gets jealous just smelling the hint of another pup on wanda 😭😭

(I love this! Let me know if you have any more puppy prompts!)

Part 2 of this

“Mama! Mama!” You run to the front door jumping up and down in front of her. “Mama you’re home!”

“Carefully, little puppy,” she laughs. “You’re gonna hurt yourself if you keep noodling around like that.” She picks you up and kisses your head several times until you wiggle out of her arms in favor of running in circles around her.

“Mama I misseded you so much today!” You say excitedly.

“You did?” She asks, squatting in an attempt to calm you down. “Were you a good puppy while mama was gone?”

You nod excitedly. “I-I ated breakfast. And then I playeded in the yard. And there was so many bunnies and I didn’t kill any of them! Just like you taughted me mama!”

Wanda chuckles, glad to see you were making use of your new puppy door and not leaving her any dead rabbits. She picks you up, pulling you into a tight hug and gently scratching behind your ears. She carries you to the couch, sitting down with you in her lap. You melt into her arms… until you catch a whiff of something on her clothes. It was faint but unmistakable. Another dog.

You frantically pull away and sniff down the rest of her clothes. You sit back on your haunches, your bottom lip quivering as you confirmed the source of the smell.

“Aww, baby what’s wrong? Talk to mama,” she soothes, cupping your chin and giving it a little scratch.

“You played with another puppy today?” you squeak, nearing tears.

She makes a face of realization. “I was over at Tasha’s today with Bowie. You’ve met Bowie, remember baby?”

You do remember Bowie, Natasha’s German Shepherd hybrid. They were a retired army dog. Very big. Very strong. Very well behaved. You nod, curling up sadly in her lap. “Do you love them more than me, mama?”

“No, sweet pea,” she soothes, holding your face in her hands. “You’re my favorite puppy in the whole world, remember? Mama doesn’t love any other puppies as much as she loves you.”

“Are you sure?” You ask, rubbing your head against her chest.

“I’m positive, baby. You’re mama’s favorite puppy,” she reassures.

She laughs as you start to walk back and forth over her lap, pressing your entire body into hers. You rub your face and ears everywhere, on her shirt, in her lap, on her neck, on her arms. You flop awkwardly as you attempt to crawl over her lap with your head dragging against her thighs. “What are you doing baby?”

“Making sure all the other puppies know that you already have a puppy at home so they don’t try and come home with you,” you reply.

Wanda sighes in acquisition. If you needed to mark her to feel better, she would let you. “Okay, honey. Just no tinkling on mama.”

“Not even a tiny bit?”

“Absolutely not.”

[avaredava]

Sooo

You're "coworkers" with Toji/Shiu. Let's say you're like an independent contractor, similar work as them. Shiu walks in on Toji bending you over a counter and fucking you?

Oh man. I 100% believe Shiu has a filthy mouth and would tease you through it. Better yet, him AND Toji talk you through it.

I also think Shiu wouldn't really join. He MIGHT jerk off. He would definitely take pictures if he knew you were okay with it and tell you he would use them later.

I'm barking-

Damn marry me Malice 😩 YOU MALICE make me scratch at the walls and bark istg

MDNI

Master list

⯌Sum

Shiu helps you and Toji fuck like dogs ◖⚆ᴥ⚆◗

⯌ Wc

1.3k

(Not proof read)

⯌ Warnings

Shiu rubs your clit for a second, masturbation, toji's insane backshots, shiu smokes (duh), some killing, consensual groping (toji killed him), blood splatter, guns, crying, overstim, Shiu directing what Toji should do to you, size kink, size diff, praising, degradation, unprotected (wrap before you tap ya'll), creampies

୨୧・・・・୨୧

It was late at night and the air was crisp as you walked into this big mansion for this fancy gala. You needed information from a rich guy to effectively know what he does and also effectively kill him.

But he was also a horn dog...

So your objective was to seduce him while Toji and Shiu stay on the lookout.

When you were finally settled in, you went to the target, dancing and swaying beautifully. But Shiu's eyes were clearly planted on your ass. Toji elbowed him to focus on the targets movements and if he runs and shit like that.

What he really wanted was for Shiu to stop looking at your ass.

Eventually fucking ugly ass old man target (what Toji thinks he was), let out his obvious perv tendency's and the guy groped your ass. The objective was to kill him anyway and get information.

But Toji fully forgot about the last part and shot him in front of everyone. All the women in the fancy dresses screeched, scrunching their front of the long dresses up then running out.

The men screamed like little bitches it made you chuckle but the blood on your face made you disgusted. What made you more pissed is that you didn't get information that you needed since Toji got fucking jealous or something.

The three of you ran out and as soon as the cold air hit your skin in the skimpy dress you were wearing sent a shiver down your spine but you were still livid.

You and Shiu scolded Toji. He just smirked the whole time then you lost it. "Toji take one fucking thing serious! You can get us into big trouble! Just because you don't know how to control your stupid fucking emotions! You're so full of yourself! We can get in very bad danger not just from the cops knowing what we look like, but from the very dangerous people!"

You were panting heavily after the very long rant. Toji grinned at Shiu and he fucking smiled back, you were about to continue calling them both immature this time but you got cut off.

Toji was the one to talk first. "Such a brat." Shiu nodded and let out a huff before replying. "Last time I checked they need to be punished."

You should be yelling more but the way that Shiu grinned with a cigarette poking out of his rosy lips and Toji's deep raspy laugh just made your thighs squeeze shut and you get wet.

"Well she got quiet." Shiu commented. "Lets get her back to the office, eh Toji? Maybe make sure she makes other noises. Not the bratty ones; but the bratty ones are cute though."

_

You all eventually get to the office from the long car ride. Before Shiu even fully closes the door Toji's stuck to your body, kissing your neck like a hungry man. He really was hungry for you, for your body.

Shiu lights one of his cigarettes, some smoke filling the room. "Toji put her on the desk." Shiu commanded in that cold stern voice that made your juices practically drip down your legs because you were so wet and needy.

Toji picked you up throwing you over his shoulder smacking your ass and you let out a small needy whine. While Shiu sat down on the chair at his desk still smoking.

Toji put you beside the area where Shiu was sitting so he could get a full view of what he's gonna do to you. Shiu just kept smoking as Toji undressed you.

Toji slid up your dress and made out a deep chuckle, you tried to close your legs for some friction but obviously Toji didn't let you.

"No panties or bra? Such a little slut, you wanted this." He was about to take off your red heels that have ropes that wrap around your calves. But Shiu obviously thought it was hot. "Keep the heels on."

He did just that.

Toji tried to quickly undress but you were letting out needy whines so Shiu stood up and put his cigarette in your mouth. He put his lips to your forehead and rubbed your clit to keep you stimulated.

Toji let out possessive growls he really wanted to touch you.

Once he was finished he pushed Shiu to the side and took the cigarette out of your mouth and threw it back at Shiu. "Don't want the pretty girl to have damaged lungs huh?" He glared at Shiu.

He pumped his big cock. You let out a nervous whine. Shiu held your hand gently as toji lined up with your entrance. Your ass was still on the desk while your legs were around Toji's waist.

"Biggg stretch." Toji mumbled in your ear getting you ready for his big cock. He pushed in and his veins were hitting spots you didn't know existed.

"Toji be more gentle." Shiu commanded. He looked at your poor small hole that was on display for him and chuckled. "Is he big baby?" You nod already cock drunk and it hasn't even been a minute.

Shiu noticed Toji was more pleasuring himself, not even trying to hit your g-spot so he stood up and whispered in his ear. "Thrust up a little, and go a little deeper."

He did exactly that and you practically screamed. Shiu had a small (big) problem. The way your pants and whines got louder because of his help just made the tent in his pants tight.

He sat back down before taking out his cock and pumping it slowly, teasing himself. "Thrust harder." Shiu said breathy. Toji's lips pressed to yours in a way that made your legs shake around him.

"I-I'm gonna cum!" You holler out. "Take it from the back." Shiu whined this time and that beautiful noise he made just made you squeeze around Toji so hard and get impossibly wet. Toji pulled out and made you get off the desk and bend over holding it. He slapped your ass before plunging in.

"Fuck your tight..." Toji moaned out. Shiu took some shaky pictures of your fucked out face drooling on his desk.

"Rub her clit- fuck." Shiu grunted out, once again Toji complied to his exact requests. He wanted to make you feel good! He never wanted to admit but, a big reason why he's listening is because, Shiu is a bit more experienced.

Toji wanted to cum so bad but he kept thinking of the ugliest things. It was worse especially when someone was watching. His fingers quickened on your clit making sure he was safe from cumming first.

The pleasure was mind shattering, the combination on his tip hitting your cervix and sliding out and massaging your g-spot made you feel absolutely nothing but his dick and those throbbing veins making you feel so good.

You felt your orgasm coming quick. "I-I'm gonna cum Toji!" You let out a little high pitched moan. "Harder and rub her clit quicker." Shiu commanded once again in that breathy tone that made your knees buckle.

The way his cock bruised you so nicely, Shiu's commanding tone that makes your mouth water. His hips smacking your ass so fast, his thick cock makes you squeeze so tight around him.

"Cum inside Toji."

That sentence you spoke in that breaking voice, that voice that clearly wants your insides painted white. The gross things didn't work anymore, he came instantly with a loud groan, you came right after with a beautiful moan.

You squirted, mixing with his cum as he fucked it back in with his cock. He pulled out, both of your juices and cum rolled down your legs.

He kisses your neck and grabs Shiu's tie that was hanging loosely around his neck to clean your messy thighs and pussy. Shiu grunted when he messed up his tie but he's gonna use it for personal matters later anyway.

Toji picked you up kissing your fucked out face as you leaned into his warmth. Unfortunately Shiu hasn't had an orgasm yet and has just been teasing himself.

"Well Toji you had your shot, my turn."

୨୧・・・・୨୧

A/N: omfg i had to re-write it twice bc it deleted the draft i'm so pissed

[urhandsmypockets]

you’re acting as if caitlyn manipulated vi into being with her when thats not true at all. caitlyn did so much for vi and never expected anything in return and it’s so evident throughout the show. also, comparing a real life thing that happens where a woman is stripped of her culture and heritage to two characters that actually are far from that is insane.

vi getting “colonised” is an extremely strange way to put it. you’re insinuating in the first two paragraphs that caitlyn seduced her, took her away from her home, and then left her with nothing when that isn’t true at all. caitlyn never tried to indicate that she believed vi “wasn’t like the other zaunites”, she never had any negative opinions about zaunites at all (shown VERY clearly in season 1 and even parts of season 2). her treatment of zaunites was due to her rage towards jinx, and you can say about how she used the grey to — basically — gas the gangs, but if you look closely you could very well see that the people featured in that were silco’s goons, the same ones that attacked vi when she was younger. she never hated zaunites: she hated silco and his crew. she also began to hate jinx for… idk… kidnapping her when she’s naked, psychologically torturing her and then going on to kill her mother (even if it was unintentional, cait didn’t know that). you say that cait “fully [expected] her to step away from her people” which once again is incorrect. cait didn’t expect anything of her and vi never stepped away from her people.

the quote, “even going against her own ideals by becoming part of the people [enforcers] who killed her parents” is linked in with the point i made earlier that vi never stepped away from her people. vi became an enforcer because of the part at the start of season 1 when she saw the zaunite in the enforcer uniform, right when they were about to attack. she couldn’t get there in time, due to being stopped by other enforcers at the barrier, so obviously this would’ve made her think “would i have been able to stop it if i was wearing a uniform?” — she wanted to become an enforcer because she wanted to help. she wanted to make sure the world was safer for both communities. also may i remind you that cait NEVER tried to force vi to become an enforcer — obviously she was upset at first but she hadnt done anything until vi had agreed to it.

you say that “caitlyn never had to change her mind about zaun the way vi changed her mind about piltover, and remained oblivious to her own privilege and her family's legacy on zaun” and honestly i have no words for this myself. you have gone outright to just take this character at no more than face value and have seem to completely forgotten the character she has been always throughout the show. caitlyn never had to change her mind about zaun cuz her mind about it had never changed in the first place; she always cared for zaunites and even when she was the “dictator fascist” everyone makes her out to be she was still disagreeing with ambessa and suspicious of her intentions. caitlyn has ALWAYS had known “her own privilege and her family’s legacy on zaun” she literally argues with her mother about it in season 1?? she had also worked as basically our equivalent to someone who gives out parking tickets because she wanted to actually earn her job??

“it's just that the sacrifices vi has made for cait, on her identity and on a moral level, has been completely one-sided.” is also, again, not true. caitlyn has made sacrifices for vi aswell. with what i had said about what jinx had done to her, she forgave jinx and made all the guards leave the cells so vi could easily leave with jinx, knowing fully well she would never see her again (“do you think i needed all the guards at the hexgates?”). she literally gave up her anger and resentment towards jinx after what she had done because of vi (go back to when caitlyn and jinx were talking just before vi comes along). this also links back with what you said about her being … “colonised” … cait never expected vi to forgive her for what she’d done, she literally said to vi she “saw someone” to push her away since she didn’t believe she could be forgiven. she does all this for vi and she expects nothing from her in return, it was vi’s choice to forgive her and vi’s choice to kiss her in the cell.

i completely disagree with your point here. i feel like you’ve taken their characters at face value and not tried to delve deeper into their motives and thoughts and feelings. i’m not trying to hate on you, but i just feel like going as far as to say vi was “colonised” is just… extremely weird to me.

vi got colonised tbh. it gives me that feeling when a rich white old man gets with a young SEA lady, brings her to britain and she only gets to see her family through facetime, and that's also the only time she speaks her native language because her man refuses to learn it

cait basically erased vi's identity as a zaunite. she loved vi in spite of that, instead of as a part of her. like how she told vi that she's not like the other zaunites, and saying 'i thought you were one of us' fully expecting her to step away from her people.

vi's been assimilated into piltover, even going against her own ideals by becoming part of the people (enforcers) who killed her parents, who were responsible for executing the systematic oppression of zaun. yet caitlyn's never assimilated into zaun, never even stepping foot into zaun beyond the first caitvi meeting and later when she was gassing the citizens. the show ended with vi living with caitlyn in the top 1% of piltover; no mutual exchange of culture. caitlyn never had to change her mind about zaun the way vi changed her mind about piltover, and remained oblivious to her own privilege and her family's legacy on zaun.

it's just that the sacrifices vi has made for cait, on her identity and on a moral level, has been completely one-sided. this, the imbalanced power dynamic and caitlyn's subtle prejudice against zaun (*) have never been acknowledged in the show. so for them to get back together and have their happy ending without some sort of introspective reflection feels. very uncomfortable. feels like cognitive dissonance.

(*) i say subtle because other than the warcrimes moment, cait often voices her opposition to extreme measures against zaun. however, she supports 'no extreme measures' and 'they are people too' as normative ideas, not really having the ability to recognise the violation of these ideas when it's in front of her and especially not when she's the one violating them. there's constantly an undercurrent of subconscious prejudice in her attitude towards zaunites, and just, a real lack of understanding

[gvshing]

Roommate Vi✧ ˚ 　· 　　 .

Masterlist C.W. mentions of being drunk

Roommate Vi loudly plays her games in the middle of the night. It’s 2 am and she’s screaming at 14 year olds for getting her killed in Fortnite. “Dude! What the fuck! You were supposed to cover my ass!” Is all you hear, all night long, through the paper thin walls. When she gets too loud you’re throwing pillows at the wall. Her big ass headphones planted atop her head, denting her hair into the shape of them, tuning out the sounds of quiet thumps against her wall. You eventually have to go knock on her door to tell her to keep it down around 3 am. She has work in the morning, you can’t quite wrap your head around how she plays all night and still makes it in on time. Vi will apologize, embarrassment etching her features. Though she would be lying if she said she didn’t like seeing your frazzled state standing at her bedroom door every night. Cozied into your pajamas and a blanket wrapped around you, sheltering you from the cold. She keeps it cold as hell in the apartment. She runs naturally hot so you never complain, enjoying wearing the hoodies around the apartment and the old stained sweats you’ve owned since you were a teenager. They were more comfortable than the shorts that rode up or the tank tops you were always worried would move and flash her. She loved seeing your sleepy eyes and frizzy hair from all the tossing and turning trying to tune her out. She stays quiet for as long as she can, but she has a hard time controlling her volume when she’s angry or heavily enthused. Usually, she’ll get loud about an hour after you’ve scolded her, but that works for you. By that time you’re sound asleep.

Room mate Vi comes home drunk on the weekends after nights of bar hopping with her friends you still have yet to meet. Except in passing when they’re helping her get into the apartment. You’ll do a silent exchange of taking the load of Vi’s weight into your arms, nodding and a quiet thank you slipping through your mouth before they’re gone again. You’ll pull her into the room, wrecked from her getting ready earlier. Clothes thrown all over her bed and hair products splayed across her dresser. Moving the clothes to the side, you carefully help her into bed, she throws herself the rest of the way down and cackles loudly. “Woah! Hi Y/N! When did you get here? Or me? I missed you~” In a sing-song tone she’ll realize she made it home safe once again. She cracks her eyes open into slits to glimpse you taking her shoes off. Sighing loudly as you place the shoes on the ground, she huffs in annoyance. “What could you possibly be annoyed about, Vi? I’m helping you.” You say, frustration lacing your voice. You’re not mad that she’s come home like this again, she’s still young, that’s what she’s supposed to do at this age. Still worry swirls around your chest at the thought of her friends not being there one day, but deep down you know she’ll always make it out safe. She’s strong, even shit faced drunk. And to be honest, you never mind helping her after a night of drunken adventures. It warms your heart to know you can be there for her in such an intimate way, even if her drunken self always finds something to groan and pout about. She’ll continue sighing loudly until you sit next to her lying body on the bed. Stroking her hair until she settles, “I’m going to grab you water and some medicine for when you wake up, okay?” She groans once more and throws her arms around your waist, rapidly shaking her head, holding onto you until sleep finds her. You sneak out of her room and return with the hangover remedies, softly setting them down on the nightstand and quietly exiting the room, fearful you’ll wake her up.

In the morning, she’ll wake up in a haze, quickly take the medication and gulp down the water you left for her. She’ll stumble out of her bedroom, finding you in the kitchen making breakfast. “Fuck, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to get that drunk or make you take care of me.” She apologizes profusely, clambering over to the table to sit down, wincing at the way her head pounds harder when she sits down a bit too hard. “I never mind, Vi. You’ll feel better soon. Want breakfast?” You both sit in silence until after she finishes eating. Slowly she’ll feel better and then you’ll recount your night of babysitting her drunken persona. Secretly, she loves when you take care of her, drunken or not. And you love to be the one taking care of her. Love the feeling of being useful to her. 

Room mate Vi has a bad day at work like 70% of the time. You’re not sure why she still works there if she hates it, but she needs the money and you can understand that. She slams the door open and closes it a bit loud and viscous. Stomping to her room to scream into a pillow and punch her mattress out of anger. You hesitantly walk up to her door and knock lightly. You hear a quiet ‘come in.’ through the door and you slowly open the door and stand in the threshold. “You- What’s wrong?” Anxiety spreading through you. You’re never mad at her for getting as rough as she does when she’s mad. But, it still makes you feel uneasy. She exhales a breath of irritation. “Just a bad day. Work fucking kills me. The customers have to be having meetings in the mornings about how they’re all going to come in and ruin my day. Like they have to be. It’s insane.” You give her a look of sympathy and walk over to her desk chair. “I’m sorry. Tell me about it?” She’ll rant for an hour about how every customer was rude, obnoxious or stupid. Ending it feeling better about her day having gotten it out of her system. You truly make her feel at ease.

Room mate Vi and you reserve Sunday nights to hang out together. Usually cozying up in the living room, a shared blanket and too many snacks for one night, a movie playing on the TV. Every Sunday you trade off who gets to pick the movie. Vi usually picks an action movie or a romcom that she makes you promise not to tell anyone she enjoys. You taunt her with the threat of telling whatever friend that brings her home that week and she’ll tickle you until you can’t breathe and you’re promising over and over you won’t actually tell anyone. She settles back into her spot and gleams with triumph. Throughout the night you guys always find yourself moving closer to the other until you’re practically cuddling. Snuggled into her side and her arm thrown around the back of the couch, that’ll eventually get tired of being up there and trail down to being wrapped around your shoulders instead. You fall asleep like that and she gently scoops you up and brings you to your room. Tucking you into bed, she’ll push your hair back behind your ear and lean down, pressing a soft kiss to the top of your head. She tells herself it’s normal to feel the way she does with you. You’re friends after all. She walks out of your room and softly closes the door. She stands in front of your door for a minute and catches her breath, waiting for her heart to slow down back to its normal pace. She just likes being around you. Nothing more, you’re a good friend. She finds herself staring at you, often, yeah. Friends do that. Catching herself missing you when you walk away, and imagines kissing you, more than she probably should, it happens, it’s normal. Yeah, friends feel that way sometimes. Sure.

Room mate Vi who isn’t able to convince herself she doesn’t like you when you come home one day, giddy about a first date you have that night. She starts feeling a searing jealousy rising in her. She can’t push it away and she’s pouting all day long. Sending you off with just a “Yeah, have fun. Be safe.” when you’re leaving. It leaves you perplexed, her sudden coldness. She sits at home, brooding, the rest of the night until you’re home. When she sees the look of disappointment on your face, she feels her heart leap. She feels bad for finding joy in your disappointment, but she can’t help herself. “Are you okay? Date not go well?” She hears the eagerness in her voice and inwardly winces. You huff and trudge to the couch, throwing yourself on it. You lay across her lap and stare up the ceiling. She strokes your hair and raises her eyebrows. A soft ‘hm?’ sound leaves her throat. “It wasn’t bad, but there just wasn’t any chemistry. I feel bad. I was so excited but she was so bland. I almost feel like she did it on purpose to drive me away. Maybe she didn’t want to go out and was just being nice when she said yes… I don’t know.” you sigh in defeat and toss yourself around to shove your face into her lap, shading your face away from her. She exhales softly and clears her throat, unease setting in. “Maybe? I doubt it. I bet she was just boring. Who wouldn’t want to go on a date with you? You’re so pretty and funny.” You snort in amusement. Twisting around to face her again. “You’re just saying that because you have to. But, I appreciate it.” She stares at you in disbelief. “I’m not just saying that, babe. You are a catch, people should feel blessed to be in your company. Let alone in such an intimate way.” You stare at her, unable to convince yourself that she’s being real. “Thanks, Vi. I appreciate you. It was just disappointing, but my feelings aren’t hurt.” She nods in a solemn agreement. She swallows her anxiety and reaches over to grab your hand. You interlock fingers and smile down at your connected hands. “Go on a date with me. I’ll show you what a good time with someone who values you, should feel.” You choke on your spit when you hear her say that and sit up fast. “What? I-” you stare at her and she continues staring at you, confidence spilling out from her. “Come on. It’ll be fun.” She smiles mischievously. “Uh.. Okay. Fine. If you want to, you don’t have to do that just because you feel bad for me. That’ll make me feel worse.” You trail off and she shakes her head, chuckling lightly. “I mean it. I was going to ask you either way.” You laugh loudly and throw yourself back into her lap, covering your blushing face.

Room mate Vi plans the most thoughtful dates. A picnic with your favorite foods, stay at home movie night with a fort she made herself, though it looks janky and falls down a few times, surprise beach days. By the end of every date you share, your cheeks hurt from smiling so much, feeling like you did a thousand sit ups from the pain of laughing too much and butterflies making a home in your chest. She always makes you feel that deserving feeling she preached to you. With her it felt easy, it made sense. And you felt silly for not seeing it earlier. It felt obvious that you both would be a good match together, but yet it took you so long. And it took her asking you. What if she didn’t say anything? Would you be living your life going on mediocre dates until the end of time? Either way, you’re glad you don’t have to do that. Glad you have each other.

Girlfriend Vi adores you and never goes a day without telling you how pretty and smart you are. She loves to see you shy away from her, loves to see your coy smile. You continue your Sunday movie nights, but with more kisses and cuddling now. You go with her on the weekends to watch how she gets herself to that point of drunken-ness. But, you’re the one taking her home now, not just tucking her in. You’re cuddling into bed next to her now. Her warmth radiates off her, no need for blankets when you have her to warm up. You wake up to her head shoved into your chest, arms wrapped around you and legs locking you in place. She snores lightly, peacefully resting off her hangovers, hard work days or rough workouts. You kiss her on the top of her head and snuggle closer into her, closing your eyes to drift off into that same peaceful rest. Feeling thankful you’ll never have to live without her or her calming presence. Even when she’s mad. 

[anakinstwinklebunny]

PAIRING: popular!hockey player!anakin x nerd!reader

FLUFF ❦

You are going to kill him. Starting with his hands, then his stupidly-handsome face and this insufferable grin. The rest is just a matter of your anger and frustration. Why? Because ANAKIN SKYWALKER had been playing with you for weeks, claiming you as his new victim. Stealing your food, stealing your things, stealing your time, and probably - definitely - stealing kisses from you..

"You," you seethed, pointing an accusative finger at him, eyes narrowing at the thick novel he twirled lazily between his long-too-tempting fingers. "Give. It. Back."

Anakin's eyes snapped the moment he heard your voice, setting them right on your face. With that, he let his lips curl into this grin you found insufferable (let's highlight that) and hot. In all his cocky, utterly beautiful glory, he had the nerve to lean back in his chair, stretch his long legs out, before spreading them, and flipping through pages like he had all the time in the world.

"Mm," he hummed, pretending to skim a sentence. "Y’know, sunshine" he clicked his tongue "This is pretty interesting stuff. Who knew you were into—" he glanced at the cover, lips curling, "—grumpy historical philosophers?"

"You wouldn’t understand," you muttered, reaching for it— or just trying to, because he yanked it away at the last second, holding it just out of your reach.

Maker, you hated him. Despised him. (Did not, under any circumstances, thought about him at night, or in class, or in very specific daydreams that made your lower stomach do things.)

"Alright," he mused, tapping his chin. "I'll give them back… but only if you give me a kiss."

You blinked. "A what."

"A kiss," he repeated, completely unfazed, as if the request was normal..to him, of course. "Right here." He tapped his lips, smirking like he knew it would drive you crazy. "C’mon, sunshine, it's a fair trade."

Your face burned. Eyes deeply, shockingly gazed into his "Anakin, I swear to the Maker—"

"Ohhh, she’s threatening me now," he teased, blue eyes twinkling. He had the time of his life.. "What are you gonna do, huh? Report me?"

"Yes!"

"To who?" He laughed, tilting his head. "Mr. Kenobi? Because I just saw him leave for his lunch break. You could wait until he’s back, but…" He sighed dramatically, pressing his lips in fake-dissapointed, thin line "I don't think you have time, sweetheart."

You groaned, ready to throw the biggest tantrum right there in the hallway. Or throw the nearest chair at him, again, you weren't sure "You’re insufferable!"

"And yet, I think you still love me."

"No, I don’t."

"Liar."

You glared at him so hard, with such anger, hatred (not really), pure irritation at every cell in his body that decided to play with you, to tease you, to make your little comfortable world burn to the heels with madness. Yet, the problem was—Anakin wasn’t fazed at all. No, instead, his gaze softened, and his voice dropped into something more gentle, more reverent.

"You are so beautiful when you're mad, you know that?" he murmured, smirk fading into something softer, something fond, something that made your face burn as if it was on fire.

Because Anakin always did this. He always worshiped you, even in the most ridiculous moments, like he couldn't help but be absolutely, completely smitten by whatever you were doing. And it was weird, to be honest. After all, who were you, really? Just a nerdy girl with glasses, who spent most of her time reading books and playing games for kids...while, Anakin Skywalker, was the breathing perfection of this school. Talented hockey player, too handsome face, deep voice, A-student that didn't even learn (he had his ways)..every girl drooled on him, and yet, you were the one he chose..

"...Fine," you muttered, heat creeping up your neck.

"Fine what?"

"Fine I'll kiss you!" Anakin barely had time to process your angry response further before you grabbed his face and pressed the quickest, most barely-there kiss to his lips—just enough to make his breath hitch, to leave him stunned, to hopefully make him give your stuff back

When you finally pulled away, he blinked, looking shamelessly dazed. And that's to the God above, your book—once held hostage—was shoved back into your arms.

"...Damn," Anakin muttered, dreamingly gazing at your face "Should’ve asked for two."

You rolled your eyes, pushing past him. You did not want to be near Anakin Skywalker ever again...for today..at least for this hour.

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[hollowed-theory-hall]

This is purely a headcanon of mine, but I love the idea of Harry looking a bit.. uncanny. His scar is more of a lichtenberg figure, his eyes look avada kedavra green in a blink-and-you'll-miss-it kind of way, he usually slouches, but when he straightens, he looks rather intimidating. Maybe if we go far enough, a couple of white streaks in his hair due to his death experiences. If you stand close enough to him when he performs magic, you feel it crackling around you, and the area just gets a bit chilly. Just little things that take a while to get used to, but it's easy bc Harry is actually a chill dude lol

I love it, honestly. I think I mentioned it in my HP headcanons, but I love an AK-eyed Harry with some white in his hair and a very visible scar. I love a slightly unsettling Harry. And I think the AK eyes, which look like a normal green unless you see them from a very specific angle and then they gleam like a killing curse don't actively contradict canon either (the white hair and the obvious scar are not canon though, as he can hide his scar with his hair usually, so it's likely on the smaller side. I think they're cool concepts though and make for a striking image). Also, canonically, Harry has some strange reactions to the veil and the Killing Curse and I love connecting him with death when I can in headcanon and fic.

Also, canonically, Harry isn't short. I believe he's around 5'11-ish in HBP and DH, and we know he can look intimidating when he straightens up and glares at you:

“You never really tried!” she said hotly. “I don’t get it, Harry—do you like having this special connection or relationship or what whatever—” She faltered under the look he gave her as he stood up. “Like it?” he said quietly. “Would you like it?” “I—no—I’m sorry, Harry, I didn’t mean—”

(DH)

That's canon.

I also love the idea of his magic being powerful enough to be felt. And considering how instinctively it reacts to Harry's emotions, it's halfway canon as well. His magic sort of just does things when Harry's upset or wants something enough. I think it's loads of fun and has tons of potential for fic purposes. (God knows I overuse the AK-green to describe Harry's eyes from Theo's POV in my fic)

Also, canonically, characters who don't know him think he is powerful, capable, and confident (which he is, he's also just more awkward inside his head and has low self-esteem), so he acts colder than we know him from inside his head, which I think would work well with a slightly unsettling aura for Harry.