#fic is so much better than report cards

[gyuuberryy]

love potions (but make it legal)!

pairing: tutor!jungwon x reader

summary: you had not been too excited about these tutoring sessions your potions professor had dropped on you. but, after meeting your tutor you couldn’t hope but think you both were brewing more than just potions, perhaps even love?

genre: hogwarts au, jungwon is a loser for the reader, initially slightly one sided pining, fluff, angst

warnings: some hogwarts lore references, mentions of failing a class, jealousy, angst, magic stuff, kissing, suggestive(ish)

note: they don’t actually make love potions in this but i liked the sound of it so i used it in the title hehe. i hope you guys enjoy this fic as you had given so much love to the heeseung one.

word count: 4.3kish

if you liked it please reblog or comment to give me your feedback! <3

to the anon who requested a jungwon hogwarts au im sososoo sorry for publishing this like six months later. i had a terrible writer’s block with this one. i’m terribly sorry, this constantly ran through my mind but i couldn’t bring myself to begin. i hope you like this!

you were so screwed.

you felt like a deflated balloon looking at your mock NEWT results. you were literally failing your potions class. with all the time spent in balancing out your classes, quidditch and sessions at the room of requirement as a part of dumbledore’s army, you had not practised well enough for your classes that were practical based. 

seeing your grades drop from exemplary results to having mediocre grades and failing a class was depressing. so, your potions teacher had made you stay back to have a word with you which is why you stood off to the side. your head hung low in disappointment with yourself. if this continued, it would be hard to apply for an auror’s job, which was your dream. 

you were broken out of your thoughts by the sound of your professor clearing his throat. your head shot up and you looked around to see the room was now empty save for you both. he gestured to the seat next to his table, so you shuffled over.

he looked over the rim of his glasses as he scanned over your report card. you hated the pitiful look that crossed over his face, you were not used to this.

“you are one of my best students, i really wasn’t expecting this from you..”

you grimaced at his words, feeling worse about your situation. great, you were not the only one disappointed by yourself.

your professor must have noticed because his tone immediately became gentle as he gave you a comforting smile. 

“see, the only reason i asked you to stay back was because i know you can do better”, he shuffled through a register seemingly looking for something. “i’m sure you have your reasons as to why your performance went down. i know you can improve again.”

you nodded at his words, already starting to feel better, “yes professor i-”

“which is why i think you should get tutored”, he cut you off.

you froze. tutoring? this was so embarrassing, usually you were the one to provide tutoring to others, and now you have to be the one to receive it? no thank you.

you let out a small chuckle, “i understand professor, but i think i can handle it by myself.”

his brows creased at your words, “i don’t think you have enough time for that, the exams are nearing and you have managed to mess up even the basic things in the exam.”

you sighed at his words, silently accepting your fate because he wasn’t wrong. maybe you should swallow your ego and just get tutored, it was for your own good anyway.

taking a deep breath you put on a fake smile and gritted out, “okay.”

the rush of your mary jane clad feet filled the hallways of hogwarts with clopping sounds. your feet skidded to a stop in front of the library doors and you placed your hand over your chest, trying to catch your breath from the ten minute long run. you were late for your first tutoring session because your evening nap went a little longer than expected. 

brushing out stray hair strands from your face you opened the doors and stepped in, looking around for your tutor. the only person other than you was a boy with raven hair, sitting on a bench completely surrounded by bookshelves. 

you approached him, assuming he was your tutor. 

“uh hey!”, you called out in an unsure manner. “are you my assigned tutor for po-”

“yes”, he cut you off curtly, not even bothering to spare you a glance. “take a seat.”

you frowned in confusion at his cold behaviour and pulled out a chair to sit next to him. he seemed to be shuffling through some papers and organising them. a few seconds went by with him failing to acknowledge your presence. you cleared your throat awkwardly and introduced yourself, trying to get his attention. 

his head immediately shot up as soon as he heard your name, his eyes widening in what you could tell was surprise. confused at his reaction, you just gave him a small smile. he was silent for a while, giving you enough time to take in his features.

bangs fell over the smooth skin of his forehead and he looked at you through glasses which fit perfectly on his face, adding on to his handsome features. you had seen him around a few times as you shared a few classes with him. he was one of the smartest students, loved by all his teachers.

“uh i’m jungwon”, his voice broke through the awkward silence.

you nodded, “hey. i’ve seen you around.”

his lips pulled up into a smile at that as he let out a small laugh nervously. you raised your eyebrows at his sudden shift in demeanour. just a moment ago he didn’t care about your presence and now he was smiling? whatever.

“professor told me you had been facing some problems with potions”, he looked down and tapped his quill on the table. “what can i help you with?”

you explained how you messed up the practical test for your mocks. he listened intently, never breaking eye contact with you which made you a bit nervous. 

you came to an end of your rant but jungwon still maintained eye contact with you, his chin resting on his hand now. 

you cleared your throat, “so..?”

he still seemed to be staring at you, his eyes out of focus as he dreamily smiled at you.

frowning at his odd behaviour, you waved your hand in front of his face which broke him out of his thoughts. his eyes widened momentarily as he shook his head, a small blush spreading across his cheeks.

“are you sick?”

he chuckled nervously, “no no i was just planning out how i could help you”

he picked up a quill and started writing a plan for you in neat handwriting. once he was done, he passed the sheet over to you.

“we’ll follow this for the next two weeks. meet me in the potions class at four tomorrow.”

you gave a once over at what he had written and smiled at him. “will do, thanks jungwon!”

he nodded and started packing up his things. when he was done he looked at you expectantly, “it’s time for dinner, let’s go to the great hall together.”

you smiled and gathered your things as well.

it was the first day of your tutoring and you were early today.

or you thought so.

glancing around the potions classroom, you spotted jungwon already there. he was perched on a stool, arranging vials and flasks on the tables. unlike his usual composed demeanour in class, he seemed flustered, his bangs falling over his forehead as he fumbled with a particularly stubborn stopper.

he looked up as he heard you shuffle in, a relieved smile splitting his face.

"ah, there you are! i was starting to think you'd gotten lost."

"lost?" you repeated, a laugh escaping your lips. "in the potions classroom? hardly."

he chuckled, a nervous undertone to it. "right, of course. so, are you ready to tackle some invisibility potion today?"

you straightened your robes, a determined glint in your eyes. "ready as i'll ever be. though," you added, an unsure lilt in your voice, "considering my track record, maybe 'invisible' isn't the best thing to start off with."

jungwon's hummed, his cheeks flushing. "well, that's why we're practising, isn't it? to avoid another...disappearing act?"

you snorted. "exactly. though, to be fair, the professor did say my failed polyjuice potion was rather impressive in its...uniqueness."

he winced. "right. let's just focus on not achieving sentience with our cauldron this time, alright?"

the rest of the afternoon was a whirlwind of chopping netslime and muttering incantations. jungwon was a patient tutor, though his explanations sometimes devolved into nervous rambling when your eyes met. 

by the end of the session, your potion shimmered a faint, almost-invisible blue. not perfect, but a far cry from your previous disasters. jungwon beamed, his earlier awkwardness replaced by genuine pride.

"see? you're a natural! with a little more practice, you'll be brewing like snape in no time."

you laughed. "snape? now that's a terrifying image."

he chuckled, then cleared his throat, his gaze flickering away. "well, i should probably get going. i have herbology first thing tomorrow."

you nodded, gathering your things. "alright, see you then. and jungwon?"

he stopped at the door, his eyes questioning.

"thanks a lot for doing this. i already feel more confident.”

he smiled at that, making you do the same unconsciously.

the next two weeks flew by in a flurry of potion-making and stolen glances in your sessions, and outside of it whenever you both crossed paths. you had made a new friend and you were grateful for his help. you found yourself approaching the cauldron with newfound determination. your brews were improving steadily, and the playful banter during your sessions only added to the enjoyment.

one particularly chilly evening, you hurried down to the room of requirement, the usual meeting place for your secret DA practice sessions. you entered to find the familiar sight of your fellow students practising disarming spells and dodging jinxes. but amidst the chaos, you spotted an unexpected face – jungwon.

he was facing away from you, expertly deflecting a curse with a flick of his wand. you blinked, momentarily speechless. you never knew jungwon was a part of this! a warmth bloomed in your chest, a mixture of surprise and a strange sense of pride.

"nice one, jungwon!" , you called out, a wide grin on your face. jungwon turned, his eyes meeting yours. a flicker of surprise crossed his features before he broke into a wide grin.

"hey there," he said casually, striding over to you. "didn't expect to see you here."

"me neither," you admitted, a smile playing on your lips. "i guess you're not just a potions prodigy, huh?"

he chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly. "turns out i have a few other hidden talents."

the rest of the evening flew by in a whirlwind of practice. seeing jungwon in this new light – confident, skilled, and fighting for a cause you both believed in – made your heart flutter. he was everything you admired and more.

admire? since when did that happen?

shaking your head to rid yourself of such thoughts, you got back to practising your charm. although, over the duration of the practise, your mind couldn’t help but wander towards jungwon’s recent behaviour. he had been sweet to you since the beginning, always ready to help out. and the way he blushed around you and quipped with you, you couldn’t help but think that maybe he also felt something? 

as the group started dispersing, you lingered near the room's entrance, feigning the need to adjust your cloak.

"hey," jungwon's voice startled you. he was packing his bag, a casual smile playing on his lips. "didn't head out yet?"

"actually," you began, fiddling with the strap of your bag, "there was something i wanted to ask you about."

his smile widened in invitation. "shoot."

you took a deep breath. "it's about dumbledore's army. we've been working on patronus charms lately, and well, i'm struggling a bit." shame tinged your cheeks. you weren't used to needing help with spells.

jungwon's expression softened with understanding. "a patronus charm, huh? tricky business, that. but hey, i might be able to offer some pointers."

relief washed over you. "really? that would be amazing!"

he gestured towards a secluded corner of the room. "come on, then. let's see what you're working with."

you settled onto the dusty floor, explaining your struggles. you could conjure a faint wisp of silvery light, but it was far from the actual form you needed. jungwon listened intently, occasionally asking clarifying questions.

"okay," he said once you finished, "it seems you've got the basic idea down. the key is focusing on a strong, happy memory. something that evokes a feeling of pure joy and warmth."

he saw your hesitant expression and chuckled. "don't worry, it's not a competition to see who has the most embarrassing childhood memory."

you forced a smile. "no, of course not." but your mind struggled to find that perfect memory.

jungwon seemed to sense your frustration. "close your eyes," he instructed gently. 

"take a deep breath and try to visualise a place that makes you feel truly happy. maybe a familiar place from your childhood, a special time with a friend, anything that brings a smile to your face."

you closed your eyes, following his guidance. images flickered through your mind – family picnics, winning a quidditch match, late-night talks with your best friend. but none of them seemed to spark the necessary warmth.

just as you were about to give up, a memory surfaced. a smile bloomed on your face. you opened your eyes and met jungwon's gaze. "i think i have it," you whispered.

he nodded encouragingly. "focus on that feeling. the warmth, the happiness, let it flow through you and into your wand."

you closed your eyes again, picturing the memory that brought you happiness. it was a little hazy as you tried to focus on the touch and sounds from that memory. with a deep breath, you pointed your wand forward and muttered the incantation.

a wisp of silvery light erupted from your wand, growing and solidifying into a shape. it wasn't perfect – the outline of a cat was more suggestion than a form – but it was a patronus. you had finally done it.

a cheer escaped your lips as you realised you had finally done it. you looked at jungwon, your heart brimming with gratitude. "i did it!"

he beamed, genuine pride radiating from him. "see? you're a natural. you just needed a little nudge in the right direction."

his words held a hint of something more, something that sent a shiver down your spine. you wanted to thank him properly, to express just how much his help meant to you. 

"thank you, jungwon," you murmured, your voice barely a whisper. you wished, however, that your patronus could solidify into something more impressive, something that truly reflected the whirlwind of emotions swirling inside you.

as if sensing your unspoken desire, jungwon stepped closer. his movements were subtle, almost hesitant. but before you could question it, he reached behind you, his hand gently wrapping around yours, enclosing both your hands and your wand within his hold.

a jolt of electricity shot through you at his touch. the air in the room crackled with a tension you hadn't noticed before. your focus on the patronus wavered momentarily, replaced by a hyper awareness of jungwon's warm torso pressed against your back, his fingers brushing against yours.

his warm breath fanned over your ear as he whispered even though there was no one around to hear you both, “now completely focus on that memory.”

the room seemed to shrink, the air growing thick with unspoken tension. you focused on the memory, it acting as a soothing anchor in the storm brewing inside you. but this time, something was different. the wispy light from your wand pulsed, growing brighter, solidifying. the faint outline of a cat sharpened, taking on a more defined form.

in the heightened focus, you were oblivious to everything except the memory and the warmth radiating from jungwon's hand on yours. the familiar nostalgia from the memory echoed in your mind, a beacon of happiness. with a burst of energy, a fully formed silver cat patronus materialised, leaping and frolicking around the room.

you gasped in awe, forgetting everything else. "it's perfect! it's actually a perfect patronus!" 

you jumped, unknowingly pushing yourself more into jungwon, making him wrap his hands loosely around you as he chuckled lowly. you spun around to share your joy with him.

but as you turned, your breath hitched. you were impossibly close to him, his hand still wrapped around yours, his face mere inches away. his eyes were dark and intense, a mirror of the emotions swirling within you. the air crackled with unspoken desire.

you leaned in, heart pounding a frantic rhythm against your ribs. he tilted his head ever so slightly, his lips hovering a whisper away from yours. his breath hitched ever so slightly, as you both leaned in, the space between your lips closing with each passing second.

just as your lips were about to meet, jungwon pulled back abruptly. 

he cleared his throat, his hand falling away from yours. "that's... that's amazing," he stammered, his eyes flickering away from yours. "a perfect patronus. you really are something else."

his words held a strange distance, and a knot of unease tightened in your stomach. the electric tension that had thrummed in the air moments ago had dissipated, replaced by an awkward silence. you weren't sure what had happened, but embarrassment washed over you in suffocating waves. the joy of your achievement felt strangely hollow now.

your patronus immediately vanished into thin air, leaving a trail of sparkles behind.

the tension in the room receded as quickly as it had risen, leaving a bewildered silence in its wake. you blinked, confused and slightly disappointed. why did he stop?

"i, uh," he stammered, looking at his shoes, "i think it's getting late. maybe we should call it a night?"

did he regret the near kiss? or was there something else at play? 

you opened your mouth to ask, but the words wouldn't come. the magic of the patronus lingered, a bittersweet reminder of what could have been.

"yeah," you finally managed, your voice barely a whisper. "it's getting late."

jungwon offered a small smile that didn't quite reach his eyes before gathering his things and hurrying towards the exit. you watched him go, a myriad of emotions swirling within you.

disappointment gnawed at you like a dementor during your potions class the next day. your potions professor, inspecting your bubbling concoction with a delighted smile, declared it "exactly by the book."

he beamed, announcing, "it appears the extra sessions have paid off! perhaps we can consider them concluded, wouldn't you agree?"

a lump formed in your throat. you glanced at jungwon, expecting a playful jab or a celebratory nod. but he simply shrugged, a noncommittal, ‘sounds good to me,’ escaping his lips.

the professor's words should have filled you with relief. you were back on track, independent once more. yet, as the class ended, all you felt was a hollow emptiness. you caught jungwon's eye for a fleeting moment, hoping for a familiar spark or a shared grin. instead, he averted his gaze, muttering a hurried goodbye and hurried out of the classroom.

this became a pattern over the next few days. in the hallways, where you once exchanged playful jibes, jungwon now seemed to melt into the background whenever you approached. shared classes were endured in a tense silence, his friendly demeanour replaced by a distant politeness. 

you replayed the scene in the room of requirement over and over in your head, desperately trying to pinpoint where you'd gone wrong. 

had you misread the tension? had you moved too fast, startled him with your sudden boldness?

one evening, you found yourself lingering outside the room of requirement, the usual meeting place for dumbledore's army. you weren't sure why you were there, perhaps a desperate hope that jungwon would appear. the door creaked open, and your best friend peeked out.

"lost something?" she asked, her brow quirked in concern.

you shook your head, the words refusing to form.

"everything alright?" she pressed gently, her perceptive eyes searching yours.

you sighed, finally blurting out, "it's jungwon. did i…did i do something wrong?"

her knowing smile softened the blow. "ah," she said, pulling you into a hug. "sometimes, the most powerful potions are brewed in silence, simmering with unspoken emotions."

her words offered little comfort, but they planted a seed in your mind. maybe rushing something as delicate as what you felt for jungwon wasn't the way. maybe patience, like the perfect potion, required time and the right balance of ingredients. you resolved to let things cool, to focus on mastering your spells and potions, hoping that maybe, one day, the right opportunity would present itself, and the spark you shared with jungwon wouldn't need words to reignite.

screw whatever you thought before. you couldn't wait for that ‘one day’ to come as you watched your classmate, a girl with hair like spun sunshine, practically cling to jungwon's arm in herbology. they were bent over, giggling like pixies at a particularly stubborn gillyweed.

fury replaced the embers of hope your friend had ignited. who was this girl? had he moved on that quickly? 

jealousy bubbled in your stomach as you stalked away from the window, hurt settling in your chest. but you were determined to make things right, even if it meant making your friendship(?) with him awkward, you needed to know what went wrong. 

the bell signalling the end of class was your cue. you bolted out, weaving through students, your eyes locked on jungwon. he noticed you coming, a flicker of surprise crossing his face, but before he could react, you were upon him.

he was walking with the sunshine-haired girl, lost in their own conversation, until a breathless, "jungwon!" ripped him from it. he turned, eyes widening further when he saw your determined, (slightly crazed) expression.

"uh, hi?" he stammered, glancing between you and the girl who stood blinking at you both, confused.

"excuse me," you said politely through gritted teeth to the girl, who, thankfully, scurried off with a mumbled ‘see you later, jungwon.’

now, alone with the reason of your anger and surging jealousy, you grabbed his arm and steered him away from the castle grounds. you marched him past the greenhouses until you reached a secluded clearing near the black lake. there, with a flourish that would have earned you points in charms class, you pinned him against a sturdy oak tree.

he stared at you, bewildered, as your chest heaved. "okay," he started cautiously, "what's going on?"

"what's going on?" you sputtered, finally finding your voice. "what's going on is, i thought we had...something!" you gestured wildly towards the castle, where you could still see a flicker of sunshine hair disappear around a corner.

jungwon blinked, then a slow blush crept up his neck. "we...we do! we had potions tutoring sessions, remember?"

you threw your hands up in exasperation. "ugh, not tutoring! this…this unspoken thing we have!"

his blush deepened, and he mumbled something inaudible under his breath.

"what?" you demanded.

he took a deep breath. "look, about that night in the room of requirement..."

"yes?" you leaned in, heart pounding.

he cleared his throat. "maybe i… i overreacted. i wasn't sure what you were feeling, and…"

he trailed off, his gaze dropping to the ground. you gaped at him, realising the truth. you hadn't scared him off, he'd scared himself off! 

but there was more. a flicker of insecurity crossed his eyes. "and to be honest," he admitted sheepishly, "the real reason i've been avoiding you… well, it's because i was trying to figure out how to tell you something...something big."

you blinked. here you were, fuming about a nonexistent threat, while jungwon had been battling his own insecurities. the situation was hilarious, almost. but mostly, it was endearing.

a slow smile spread across your face. "well, spill it, jungwon. don't leave me in suspense."

he fumbled with his words, cheeks burning a fiery red. "it's about...well, ever since the beginning of this year, i’ve looked at you…in a different light."

your heart thrummed erratically now, hoping he was getting to where you wanted him to.

"...and, well, you're not just funny and smart, you're kind and brave, and the way you laugh at my stupid jokes, it just makes me..." his voice trailed off, his eyes pleading with yours. 

his rambling was adorable, but the knot of frustration in your stomach tightened with every nervous stammer. you couldn't take it anymore.

grabbing him by the collar, you silenced him with a kiss. it started desperate, fueled by the need to know his true feelings, but as his lips met yours, it melted into something sweeter. you poured your unspoken emotions into that kiss, the frustration, the longing, the dawning hope. 

suddenly, jungwon spun you around, switching your positions so that you were pushed against the tree now. your breath hitched in surprise at his sudden show of confidence. he dove back into the kiss, his soft lips moving against yours in fervour. the intensity of your kiss increased along with your pulse and you were pretty sure jungwon could feel it with the way he was pressed up against you

when he finally pulled back, breathless and dizzy, a different kind of silence hung in the air.

jungwon stared at you as your cheeks flushed a brilliant crimson, mirroring the sunset bleeding across the lake. finally, a smile bloomed on his face, genuine and relieved. 

"see," he breathed, voice husky, "that was much easier than all that."

you laughed, a genuine sound that echoed through the clearing. relief washed over you, warm and tingly. "i should be the one saying that" you teased.

“yeah well i chickened out”, he scratched his head in embarrassment, “i wanted my confession to be perfect.”

you smirked, “yeah well what you pulled right now was very romantic. i didn’t know you had that in you.”

he rolled his eyes playfully and grabbed your hand, lacing his fingers with yours. “you liked it though. let’s head back now, it’s almost time for dinner.”

you smiled as you walked in step with him, swinging your intertwined hands back and forth. he squeezed your hand with a cheeky grin on his face.  you returned the squeeze looking up at him in question, when his next words had a blush blooming on your face.

“i hope you’re going to pay me back for those lessons with more of such kisses.”

𝗰𝗼𝗽𝘆𝗿𝗶𝗴𝗵𝘁 ©𝗴𝘆𝘂𝘂𝗯𝗲𝗿𝗿𝘆𝘆 on Tumblr

˚ · .𝗮𝗹𝗹 𝗿𝗶𝗴𝗵𝘁𝘀 𝗿𝗲𝘀𝗲𝗿𝘃𝗲𝗱

[satorusugurugurl]

Candy Apples

Summary: When you go to a Hallowedn carnival with your boyfriend, he finds himself longing for you in ways that has him dragging you away from the fun to a more secluded area for your own carnival fun!

Pairing: Geto Suguru x AFAB!Reader

Warning:college!au, language, public sex, fluffy, photoboo, sex, unprotected sex, creampie

Word Count: 2.7K

A/N: Kinktober day Twenty-One: Halloween Carnival! this was originally a Geto only fic, I changed to JJK men, but I changed it back to Geto because it was too good as a stand alone!! (plus you're girl is tired lol)

“Come on!” Suguru couldn’t help but smile as you dragged him through the crowd. This unexpected adventure had just come to be less than ten minutes ago.

The two of you were planning on spending the night in. Midterms were coming up, and it was best that both of you take the time to study. Doing so meant you wouldn’t be able to attend all the Halloween parties you were eager to attend. But you both agreed there would be plenty of time to party later. The evening was supposed to be spent in the apartment, working on reports and studying for upcoming tests.

So imagine Suguru’s surprise when you came bursting through his apartment door. There was a glimmer of excitement in your eyes as you threw off your scarf, grabbing him by the hand. At first, he thought something may have happened to you. But when you started bouncing on the balls of your feet up and down, giggling in excitement, his worries faded away.

“What is wrong with you?” your boyfriend asked as you circled around him, giddy as could be.

“There’s a carnival! A literal Halloween carnival down at the street!”

Suguru scoffed cocking an eyebrow as you ran to grab his jacket. “What happened to staying in and studying tonight?” You whirled on your feet and dropped as if he had just insulted you and your best friend.

“Geto Suguru! Life is too short not to take spontaneous actions!”

“I’m quoting what you told me a few days ago.” He said with a chuckle as his brows furrowed, going with the flow. You grabbed him and dragged him out the door. “But if you want this, I’m willing to reschedule our study session.”

And he was so glad that he did. Seeing your excited face illuminated by the streetlight above was much better than staring into a book. You looked around and wondered at all of the different vendors and activities that were going on around you. He admired the orange lights reflected off your flawless, beautiful skin and how your eyes twinkle in the starlight above.

There was a certain awe about you and how you found joy in the little things in life. That made him fall harder and harder every single day for you.

“Suguru! Look!”

He smiled, following you towards a vendor selling Caramel and candy apples. “They look so good!” You leaned over, looking at each of the apples on display.

Not as good as you.

All other horny thoughts aside, Suguru immediately took his wallet out, pulled out his card, handing it to the vendor who scanned it. “Pick one, Princess.” the way you grabbed your preferred treat before hugging his arm and spewing a string of thank you made him realize just how much he loved spending time with you.

Those thoughts about how lucky he was to have you and how fortunate he was had him going as he considered how he could tell you this. You took notice of his quiet demeanor and pouted, feeling a twinge of regret at pulling him away from his studies that he was so passionate about to walk around a carnival like a couple of high schoolers.

Your excitement clouded your judgment, and you thought maybe your very mature boyfriend thought this was childish. So you loosened your grip on his arm and silently nibbled on your treat. It didn’t take long for Suguru to notice your change of attitude. He watched you eat with an almost far-off look in your eyes. He frowned, tilting his head to the side as he looked around for a quieter, more private place to ask you what was wrong.

He found that place down a corner, where he found a photo booth with an out-of-order sign. He approached it, seeing no one lingering around. It was much quieter back here than all the chaos of the bustling festival. It's the perfect place for you to talk.

“What's wrong?” Suguru blatantly asked, not wanting to dance on the subject.

You looked up at him, midbite of your apple. “Huh?” You asked, clearly shocked that he had noticed the slight change in your mood.

“What’s wrong? You were so happy just a few minutes ago. Are you tired? Do you not like your apple?”

“No, I’m not tired, and my apple is really good.”

“Then what’s wrong, Princess?” you opened your mouth to speak. “And don’t even try telling me that it's nothing; I know you, so it’s just easier for you to come out and tell me what’s going on.”

You sighed, twirling the skewer as you pressed your lips into a thin line. “I just feel bad for dragging you out here.” He blinked, almost too stunned to respond.

“Why the hell would you be sorry about that?”

“Because you seem quiet, and I know this wasn’t in the plans for tonight, but I was pretty persistent about it. I know your studies' importance to you, and I dragged you away from it.”

Suguru went from confused to full of concern before the faintest trace of amusement graced his pretty features. “You think I’m upset that you dragged me out here?” He almost laughed at your words, leaving you gawking at him before pouting. “Princess, I couldn't care less about studying right now. I’ve been having such an amazing time with you tonight. Seeing you in such a good mood and watching you all be happy and bouncing up and down. I love seeing that side of you.” He reached out, his warmest hand cupping your chilled, flushed cheek.

“Then why have you been so quiet for the last few minutes?”

“Oh, have I been that quiet?” His thumb brushed over your cheekbone. “I’m sorry, princess; I was just thinking about how lucky I am. I guess I just lost myself in my thoughts.”

“What were you thinking about?”

You watched how your boyfriend’s cheeks turned a slight dusty rose hue. “I was thinking about how cute you looked, how much I love seeing you excited. And it made me realize just how much I want you.” His voice was so quiet you almost had to strain to hear what he was saying.

But you heard him loud and clear.

Suguru was a virgin, so you both had agreed to take things slow. Getting to know each other without having to rely on intimacy to do so. Besides the occasional make-out session and a lot of touching and feeling, but it never went more than that. You started dating each other last semester, and things have been heating up recently. Suguru always said he would tell you when he was ready.

“I want you so bad. It’s not even funny.”

You swallowed hard; suddenly, you weren’t concerned with the apple and were more interested in your boyfriend. You dropped the half-eaten apple on the ground before you threw yourself at him. You were kissing him and pushing him until his back slammed against the photo booth. He gasped, eyes wide, before he lost himself in the kiss. Suguru reached around, grabbing you by the back of your head, forcing you to kiss him deeper. You moaned, eyes fluttering shut as you whimpered against his lips.

It was painfully clear by the tent, forming in his pants to the wetness seeping through your panties, that you both wanted this. “L-Let’s go back.” You gasped out, breaking the kiss, only to be pulled back in, Suguru’s tongue sliding into your mouth as you guessed out in shock. He yanked you into the Photo Booth, pulling the red curtain to shield you from prying eyes. You hit the back wall, getting knocked out of your lungs, which he gently took into his own. It was so intense, so raw, and full of need.

“I don't want to go back. I want you now.”

Suguru felt like he was starving, starving for you specifically. The tarts, sweetness of the apple, and sugary taste of your favorite toppings flooded his mouth. He growled his tongue greedily, massaging yours, trying to taste everything you had to offer. You whimpered eyebrows, knitting together at the kiss's force and pure intensity. How was he a virgin when he kissed you like this?

His hand traveled up your body, copying your breast through your sweater, squeezing and massaging it as his thumb brushed over your nipple through the thick material shielding you from his hands. He had never felt this kind of desire for anyone in his life before. He needed you. And Suguru didn’t care if it was right in the photo booth.

“S-Suguru!” you cried out, whimpering as he turned around, your back facing him. With a moan, you caught on to what he wanted. You lifted your black pleated skirt before tugging your faux leggings down to pool at your knees before you turned, placing your hand against the wall with a camera. “Fuck me.”

Suguru couldn’t remember the last time he was this hard. It was almost painful as it strained against the zipper of his pants. He needed you; he needed to be buried deep inside your tight, wet walls. And while the place wasn't what he imagined losing his virginity, he couldn’t have been more happy with the person he was losing it to.

He rolled his hips against yours, fabrics rutting against each other with every move. You found yourself mewling as you rocked shamelessly against him. You have wanted this for so long, and it’s precisely what you both needed. He leaned down, tilting your head to face him before he kissed your kissing you gently, his full, plump lips pressed against your own. As your lips moved together, his hips rocked against yours harder. His erection pressed firmly against your clit as he rocked against you.

His tongue licked at your bottom lip, and you parted your lips, allowing him in. His tongue wrapped around yours, fighting for dominance. Every kiss, sweet caress, and movement behind you was carefully calculated. Suguru was taking his time, not rushing through anything; he wanted both of you to savor this moment.

It didn’t matter if you were at a carnival; behind the photo booth curtain, it was just you and Suguru at that moment where his body was—moving against yours. And nothing, nor anyone else, mattered. He made it clear that you were his entire universe, and you knew you were lucky to have Suguru in your life.

You loved him, and he loved you.

That love slowly turned into pure lust and desire as your boyfriend growled in your ear, the bucking of his hips becoming more erratic as he dug his fingers into your flesh. You only turned back around to quickly help with unbuckling his belt, his own hands gripping your hips as he spread your cheeks, exposing yourself to him. The second you were, his cock was brushing against your folds. Suguru grunted, pushing himself into your wet heat. Your back arched slightly as you opened your mouth; no sounds came out as he continued to push himself inside of you. You walls stretched, a delicious burning sensation coursed through you as you tried to accommodate his massive length.

“Holy fuck—” he stilled, head resting against your shoulder. As he allowed himself to experience the sensation of being inside of you.

“Feel good, Sugu?” You asked in an almost breathless tone.

He hummed and turned to nuzzle into the crook of your neck. “Better than I have ever imagined. Fuck you feel so good.” It didn’t take Suguru long to fall into a rhythm, his thrusts deep and set at a fast pace. You moved in time with him, rocking back slowly as he thrust faster.

His lips were placed on yours, and his tongue slid into your mouth, eager to taste the tangy sweetness from your apple again as you continued to move together. Through the kisses and touches, you felt the adoration and love he had for you. You never doubted that he loved you for you, and you felt the same way.

Even though you could read the gestures behind his movements, he still had to tell you. “I love you, Princess.” He groaned out, pressing a chased kiss against your lips before trailing his lips down the shell of your ear to your neck. “I ducking love you.” His movements picked up in speed as he fucked you harder, but never once did that adoration falter.

“Suguru,” you sighed, biting down on your lip as pressure began building inside you, “God, I love you; you feel so good.” He thrust harder, moaning loudly into your ear as you bucked back against him. “Fuch, ngggh Suguru.” You closed your eyes tight, slamming your hands against the wall. “Right there,” You cried out as he brushed against your g-spot, “again, fuck again!”

He followed your commands, angling his hips to hit that sweet spot over and over again. With each thrust, you found yourself getting closer and closer to the edge. Suguru's grip on you was tightening; he wasn’t going to let you; he was fully intending to keep you as his as long as you allowed him to. He was a man set on a mission, and there was no stopping him except that he was already close to the edge himself. But he wasn’t going to allow himself to finish before you.

“Princess, I need you to cum for me.” he whispered, his hot breath against your lips, “Cum for me, pretty girl.”

He reached down, finding your click with ease. He pressed down hard on it, rubbing it back and forth as his thrusts caused the entire booth to shake as he fucked you. “S-Suguru!” You cried out, slamming your hands against the wall of the photo booth, causing a bright light to flash and momentarily blind you as your walls clamped down on your boyfriend's cock. They fluttered and pulsated, your body trembling as your orgasm coursed through you.

Suguru blinked spots away; his movements slowed as he began to edge closer to his release. “Suguru cum with me! Please, fuck, cum with me.” You begged as he pounded into you before growling loudly, his hips stilling as he spilled himself inside of you.

Once you both regained your breath and Suguru completely softened inside of you, he pulled out, shaky legs, as he ran his hands all over your body “Holy shit, I fucked you so hard we fixed the photo booth,” He chuckled, letting out a deep breath, as you stood there still pressed against the wall at the photo booth giggling breathlessly. “I-I wow.” His lips trailed kisses all over your neck.

“Suguru.” Hearing that breathless giggle and feeling his lips and hands on you left you whining. “We need to go home.”

“Huh?” Suguru asked concern etched into his features. “Why are you okay?” he asked as you straightened, adjusting your skirt before pulling your tights back up. You move so fast that he never saw it coming. You fiated your hand in his shirt, yanking him down back to your lips, kissing him as hard and as deep as you could.

“I need you to take me home and fuck me again.”

“As you wish, Princess.”

Suguru couldn’t stop the grin that tugged at the corner of his mouth before he tucked his cock back into his pants, his fingers as he pushed the curtain to the photo booth back, stopping to bend down and pick up the pictures that booth took of you both and pure orgasmic bliss, a snapshot of that moment. He grinned, fighting down his lip, and opened his wallet, placing the photo strip within it.

“Are you seriously going to keep that in your wallet?” You questioned, a smile as he dragged you down the pathway back to the crowded carnival.

“Of course I am. It’s going to stay with me forever. Just like you.”

Forever Tag List:

@darkstarlight82 @pandoness @nealeart @simp-plague @sugurubabe @chilichopsticks @reap3erslov3 @wil10wthetree @msniks @lana18918 @draculemon

Kinktober Tag List:

@candy-s72

[cuntdevil]

★ THE CLEANER-UPPER!

a highly-regarded murder cleaner is assigned a job at a hotel. unfortunately, when housekeeping walks in, it breaks bakugo's streak and ability to make a clean getaway.

( fic demographics. ) boku no hero academia, bakugo katsuki, dark content (violence) & sexually mature | minors, ageless & blank blogs: do not interact & 7000 words.

╰┈➤ murder cleaner!bakugo, housekeeper!reader ( afab & she/they pronouns ), mentions of murder, dead bodies & blood. smut: rough sex, bondage with a belt, anal play, fingering, degredation, spanking, etc.

( author's note. ) this fic is based on a mobile game ive been playing recently, nobodies: murder cleaner. it's so fun and was an interesting concept i wanted to turn it into a fan fic uwu.

Bakugo has always been thorough with everything he does, living his life in a pristine manner that his friends often teased him for. Everything he has and owns has to be placed in their designated areas or his mind will start racing and it’s as though he’s a ticking time bomb. It’s a problem that he has, but he’s made it work in his favor. Especially in his line of business.

When Bakugo’s asked what he does for work, he’s honest. He’s a cleaner. Typically, people won’t question him further. They might ask what a guy of his size and caliber is doing working a small job like that. He’s gone to a well-established university and earned a high-GPA that his academic peers are envious of. Why is he wasting such talent on a dead-end job? Surely, there are other professions and careers he could go in. 

And with further elaboration, Bakugo goes into a little bit more detail, saying that he works for a private company and that he gets paid by the rich to clean up. Then, by seeing the type of stuff he’s able to afford, they can come to some sort of understanding of why he does it. A paycheck is a paycheck and does he really need a job that’s mentally taxing? They learn to dismiss further questioning, even if they’re not satisfied with the course of life in which Bakugo’s decided, and let him be. He’s got a roof over his head and is able to come home to a full fridge. He’s obviously not struggling like they have to. 

But the majority of the time, that’s a stranger’s outlook on his life. People that are more dear to him have come to grow suspicious. Are the rich really that willing to pay him that much money just to clean their homes? Do they really just throw their money away just like that? 

His parents, specifically his mother, have inquired plenty of times about his job. She had asked for full reports about the business he works in and Bakugo’s been willing to share. Giving his mother a business card, pamphlets and flyers, his tax information when she further insisted. And through conducting her own research, everything has checked out. Her son is indeed a cleaner. A well-paid cleaner that’s able to live in a nice luxury apartment by himself, owning a car that’s better than her own, and doesn’t have to come back to his parents for anything financial wise. 

He doesn’t have to worry about a thing, and while that should make Mitsuki happy, it doesn’t. She’s proud that her son has a job and is able to support himself and doesn’t need to depend on her or her husband for anything, but she feels as if she’s not needed— not wanted anymore. He rarely calls and when he does, he makes sure to make it worthwhile, always stating how his job has kept him and away from the phone. When Mitsuki tries to make unexpected visits, he’s never home— peeking through the windows, his apartment barely looks lived in. 

The more and more she thinks about it, Mitsuki realizes that this isn’t normal. Days at a time he would be absent and when he’s back it’s only for a day or two until he’s back on his feet. It’s exhausting to watch, and it surely must be twice as exhausting for Bakugo to keep working such strenuous hours. She’d try to get him to quit, seeing purple starting to form under his eyes. That’s not like her son— that’s not like Bakugo to not get at least eight hours of sleep every night. However, he’s always quick to protest, giving her every reason in the book not to. And he’d always end it that he actually loves his job and loves what he does— that it’s his outlet. 

And with that reasoning only is why Mitsuki hasn’t dragged her son’s ass back home and forced him to quit already. Her boy is happy.

—

MISSION REPORT: 

Asset #1080, last night Q-100’s logistics expert Shinsou Hitoshi used a known alias to check in to the Escenica hotel in Buenos Aires. Turns out that was the last mistake he ever made.

Our operative had to act fast to catch him in his room, so you may well have a bigger mess than usual on your hands.

Housekeeping will begin making rounds any time now. Make sure there’s nothing for them to find.

Disposing of the mission report right as the plane lands, Bakugo lets out an exhausted sigh. He pulls out his airpods case as he stands to his feet, plopping the small buds into his ears and hearing the habitual chime of it connecting to his device. Swerving past the private flight attendant, his footsteps are as quiet as a mouse, something that used to be unlikely before working in this field. He puts on his playlist, he always plays it when heading to a new job— it oddly relaxes him.

Heading to the black Lexus that’s sitting there waiting for him, he opens the door and hops in, not having to say a word as he’s been driven right where he needs to be. Being introduced to this line of business, Bakugo never thought he’d be someone who’d become insensitive to the sight of death and the thought of it all. However, being led through the first job and oddly finding it satisfying, he slides through every gig with ease and always concludes it a piece of cake when his agent comes to collect a completed mission report. 

People think that what he’s doing isn’t challenging, always giving him looks when he tells them he’s a cleaner, thinking that what he’s doing is a waste of talent. However, he finds it to be his perfect calling, finally finding something that silences that constant creak inside his head. 

When the Lexus comes to a final stop, Bakugo doesn’t bother with a farewell, more like a thankful grunt and nod before exiting the vehicle and watching as the automated doors open for him. It’s awfully quiet for a hotel, he thinks the moment he steps in. It’s close to the holidays. Shouldn't it be a little bit more crowded?

He’s not trying to wish for a difficult procedure tonight, but he finds the silence odd. However, he finds himself grateful the moment he passes a door with the body splayed out on the bed with the bed sheets covered in blood. Rushing in, he curses, “shit.”

I know they had to act fast, but couldn’t they have used some of their senses if they had any? Bakugo continues to curse under his breath the longer he stands inside of the hotel room, moving to turn the lock on the handle. He lets out a sigh as he takes a moment to himself. Scoping the scenery out, he hums to himself silently as he thinks of his options. The first thing he notices are the windows— they’ve been left open. 

I could make it look like he jumped, he suggests before quickly disregarding. No, that’ll call for attention. It needs to be something silent. And something outside of this room— Turning around, he twists the door knob before remembering that he locked it, feeling something flap around underneath. Two signs for maintenance— just what he needs. 

Opening the door and peeking his head through it, the coast is clear. The red ‘do not disturb’ on his door and the green housekeeping sign for the room adjacent to him. This will give him enough time to venture out and get a better look at his options. 

—

By the time Bakugo’s finished his tour of the hotel, he’s managed to reroute the surveillance off of his floor and housekeeping has fallen for his small diversion, the cart parked right outside the room next to him— he’s managed to successfully snag the keys off of it as well, opening what he needs before setting them back in place. In such a short time, he’s managed to conjure up a plan to successfully hide the body— if he’s able to get the garbage chute up and running in a short period of time while also getting the staff outside of the laundry room right when he needs it. Inwardly, he cheers himself, finding this to be an easy task before instructed another assignment to complete. 

Heading back inside the room, he’s found the edge of the bed frame to be falling off, and hopefully it could aid as a ladder to create a diversion for the laundry staff. Those damn workers will be in there twenty-four-seven if he doesn’t do something about it. Finding the custodial closet using the keys he borrowed, he’s managed to twist off the pipe and found some fuses that’ll help repair the garbage chute. 

Bakugo thought that since it’d be a year since doing this, his heart would calm down and stop pounding against his chest, but as much as he loves it, he’s reminded of the impeccably tight schedule that he’s on and that he needs to do this fast. He moves with a haste, sorting his thoughts out with every step that he takes. Turning off the valve to the water supply, he’s figured that’ll lead to a little halt in the laundromat workers downstairs and with the garbage disposal inside of the custodial room, he can quickly get rid of the body and the blankets in no time. 

Climbing down from the roof, Bakugo pauses when he hears sudden movement. “The damn water stopped working all of a sudden,” a rough voice speaks, his tone rising the more he gets angrier. “What am I supposed to do for the next seven to eight hours?”

“Calm down,” Bakugo hears next, a soft feminine voice coming from whoever the man is speaking to. With the exasperated sigh leaving their mouth, Bakugo can tell that this seems to be an ordinary occurrence of the man complaining and the woman having to hear it. “Call in for maintenance and use the rest of your shift to relax. Easy.”

“Yeah, easy for you to say,” the man scoffs. “You’re just a young thing with nothing much going on. For Pete’s sake, you’re in your twenties working in a goddamn hotel!”

Bakugo doesn’t know how the young woman’s able to keep calm when he hears her nonchalantly retort back, “And you’re in your fifties working in a hotel. Shouldn’t you be working high up in corporate by now?”

You’ve managed to silence the man, completely exiting the clean room and making your way down the line. You’ve gotten used to Aizawa’s complaining by now, but sometimes he knows just what button to push. Like now. Eyebrows rising, you see Adam's apple bob as he realizes his mistake. You have surely proven your point. In his incessant rambling, he forgot that both of you are in this circumstance and while there’s no further hope for him to better his life, you still have that opportunity. And unlike him, you have a plan on making it out of the hotel and finding a much more secure and well-paying job. 

“Y’know what?” Aizawa clears his throat. “I’m gonna go read that book I’ve been meaning to catch up on the worker’s lounge.”

You curtly nod, plastering a faux smile on your face as Aizawa makes his way down the hall and out of your sight. “Tell me about it later.”

With a heavy exhale, you let out your breath as you push the cart down to the next room, forgetting to read the sign as you move to unlock it. Bakugo doesn’t move fast enough before you have the door unlocked and you’re pushing it open. The sight before you doesn’t fully register until a second too late, eyes widening and about to scream when you feel a rough hand planted over your mouth and you’re being pushed up against the wall. It went by in a flash, but it’s vivid in your mind. Pale skin sprawled out on the bed— motionless. Lifeless. Your heart is racing, panging heavily on your chest as the crimson red eyes that match the color of the blood-soaked covers peer down menacingly at you. “Do. Not. Make a sound.”

You finally make eye contact with the person that’s got you in this position. And it’s easy for you to jump to conclusions— think that he’s the killer and because you walked in on this scene, you’re going to be his next victim. Bakugo’s never been in this position before, never getting caught. He doesn’t know what to do in this predicament. 

Actually, he does, but he’s not sure if he wants to carry through. He’s not a killer, only the man that cleans up. He can stomach seeing a dead body, but not sure if he can stomach actually creating one. But, he doesn’t necessarily need to do it himself. He can call his organization, have them do the job for him and he’ll gladly clean it up. 

Could he, though? Could he clean up the body of his own mistake? A young and pretty woman, seemingly around his age range, who had no business being in his. Of all of his tasks and mission reports, he’s never had witnessed a woman being killed and he really doesn’t want to anytime soon. 

Fuck. You’ve really put him in a predicament here. Couldn’t you read the damn sign? 

“Do ya understand me?” Staring into your eyes, he can see that you’re still freaked out. You’re still breathing heavily and your heart’s still racing. Your eyes continue to divert his, trying not to make eye contact at all. His patience is running thin and everything he’s just thought will be running right through the door if you don’t calm down. So, he gives you a little “nudge.”

Shaking you, he clenches his job as he breathes once more, “do y’understand me?”

And finally does it register to you that he’s speaking, fright turning into confusion as your eyes turn glossy. “Mwhat?”

Bakugo seethes, hand pressing down harder over your mouth as he squeezes you into the wall. “Listen to me,” he checks his surroundings, reaching over to lock the door once more while simultaneously making sure he keeps his hold on you. “If ya make a sound, yer going to join this man. I have a pair of pliers that I can use to gouge out yer throat, it only takes a few seconds. Y’understand?”

Tears start to trickle down your eyes as you squeak, nodding your head in obedience. You’ve seen your fair share of movies, true crime television shows and podcasts. You don’t doubt a word that he says. And with a man of his size and caliber, if you dared to fight back, he’d tower over you in less than a second. If he goes back on his word and kills you, you hope it’d be a quick and easy one. So, in his hand, you nod once more. “I understand.”

He keeps you in that same position for a little while longer, staring into your eyes for a bit while longer before letting you go. Dropping his hand, you and him both let out a breath, but he still keeps you trapped against the wall. “Since ya decided to ignore the ‘do not disturb’ sign, yer going to help me dispose of the body.”

You rapidly nod. “Okay.”

You’re complying so easily, it makes him skeptical. “Yer not gonna fight?”

You shake your head, stammering out a “no.”

“Why not?” In response, you start to squirm within his tight hold. His big and calloused arms on your waist. So close to you, you can feel the heat of his breath against your skin, so close to your neck. And his eyes, the color of rubies, despite them scorning you and scrutinizing your every move— they’re pretty. This scruff of a man with messy blond hair towers over you, bulging muscles that have easily pinned you down to the wall the moment you stepped foot into the room. The longer you look into his eyes, you realize that this man has seen some shit and has done even more terrible things. Why would you fight?

“You’d win,” you ultimately shrug. It’s enough to receive another once over from Bakugo, “You got a point.”

Peeking over Bakugo’s shoulder as best as you can, you look at the lifeless body— the corpse seemingly at peace. It makes you curious, and maybe a bit too brave. “W-why’d you kill him?”

“Huh?” Taken aback, Bakugo didn’t know how to answer your question. Should he tell you the truth or should he lie about it? Or should he evade your question altogether? Glancing behind him, at his current job, he lets out an exhale. “Just help me hide the body if you don’t want your skull bashed in.”

—

With the extra hand by his side, Bakugo was able to seamlessly dump the body inside of the garbage disposal and set everything that he had used back in its previous spot. You were compliant and didn’t argue with anything that he told you to do, able to divert and lie when questioned by your coworkers. It was as though you were familiar with this and had been working as a cleaner yourself. Bakugo was impressed. Still, he’s still unsure what to do with you. 

Standing inside of the hotel room, he’s watched you clean up every crevice of the room, analyzing how you’ve fixed it up to pristine shape for the next occupant. It’s just a shame that the next person will have to deal with the ghost of Shinso Hitoshi. Dropping a spray bottle back into your cart, you slowly turn around to sheepishly view who you suspect to be a murderer. “Are you going to kill me now?”

You’ve taken him back yet again, but more so because you’ve been so calm. How are you not scared at the possibility of losing your life? He doesn’t answer your question and his silence is all that you need to finally break down. “Because before you do, I’d like to at least plead for my life!”

With the raise of your voice, your eyes widen. “Sorry,” you tone it down. “B-but… I won’t say a word. I’ll just— I’ll stay silent! Plus, you’ve made me an accomplice. If I did say anything, you could easily rebuttal it in court.”

You’ve got a point, he sighs. It’s a shocker that he didn’t even think about that before. He just made you an accomplice in the heat of things. Checking the time, it’s late and he has a bit of time for himself before he’s called in for his next task. “Are there any bars close by?”

“What?” you ask, bewildered. He gives you a look, telling you not to let him repeat himself. Gulping, you nod your head, “There’s a few not too far from here actually.”

“When do ya get off yer shift?” 

Checking the time, you do the quick math. “In a little less than an hour actually.”

“Great,” he pushes himself up from off the wall. “We can discuss it over a drink then.”

“You’re not going to kill me then?” The moment you clocked out, Bakugo dragged you outside of the building and instructed you to take him to the nearest bar. As per usual, you complied, bringing him to one that you actually frequented yourself as the bartender immediately recognized you the moment you took a seat, setting a Mojito right in front of you before asking Bakugo what he wanted. With a bourbon in his hand, Bakugo cocks an eyebrow at you. “What makes ya think that?”

“You haven’t done so already,” you shrug. “I don’t know. With all my true crime knowledge, if you wanted to kill me, you’d have done it already. You’ve had plenty of opportunities.”

“Maybe I’m just having my fun with ya before I kill ya off. Have ya thought about that?” Bakugo inches into your personal space, standing up and towering over you. Purposely taking a domineering stance, he watches as fright twinkles in your eyes. Sickeningly does he find some humor in it before he sits back down on the stool. Clearing his throat, he takes another sip of his drink. “Nah, but yer right. ‘M not gonna kill ya.”

“Then why’d you bring me with you?” you ask. “Why not just send me on my way with another threat or something? It'd have worked.”

Leaning into his chair, Bakugo shrugs. “There’s just somethin’ about ya that makes ya interesting—” licking his bottom lip, his eyes grazing over your body, taking you more in. “—just need to discover what.”

—

Back pressed into the dresser, it aches as the straight edge leaves a bruise on your bare skin. His bare hands are no gentler, calloused palms that hold you down and grip your waist with a vice strength that has your heart beating against your chest. From its incessant pounding, it's caught Bakugo's attention as lets out an airy and amused chuckle. “Not scared to clean up a dead body, but yer frightened by my cock, hm?”

His breath against your neck as his teeth graze the shell of your ear. He paused and in anticipation, your body shudders. “Fear it's the one thing that's gonna kill ya? Yer a rather sick one, aren’t ya?”

You can only mewl out in pain as he pushes you further against the dresser. You can’t help but stare into those crimson eyes of his, how they’re sparkling in lust— lust directed right towards you. However, despite the pain and the haughty desire that courses through your body right now, you can only agree with him. That rush of being afraid, the possibility of losing your life and simultaneously hiding someone that’s already lost theirs. It was an exhilarating experience as you had a tall and brawn of a man that glared daggers into your chest if you dare get him caught. The possibility of aiding a criminal and becoming an accomplice no longer frightened you. No, it was the fact that you enjoyed it and now want to continue feeling that rush of living on the edge. 

At the lack of response, Bakugo can only continue to chuckle in pure amusement. He’d mistaken you as a fragile being when in reality, you’re just as fucked up as everyone else is in this world. What was that saying again? The innocent ones aren’t as naive as they seem? At least it was something along those lines. 

He leans over to bite down on your lower lip, thick and supple as he can taste the remnants of whatever chapstick you were wearing. You shamelessly moan at the feeling of his touch roaming your body. Big hands that reach to cup your ass and grope at them before hoisting you up on the dresser and eliciting a squeal from your lips. Who knew that a vixen such as yourself could sound so pure. Yet, Bakugo takes the opportunity to fully indulge in you, his tongue exploring the caverns of your mouth and giving you no fighting chance towards catching up. Instead, you can only moan and whimper against him as he’s in between your legs and you’re trapped in his vice grip. 

Even with the assisted height of the white piece of furniture, Bakugo still has the leverage. His hips meeting your inner thighs as you feel the press of his clothed erection against your mound. Hands that previously didn’t know what to do finds themselves snaking around his neck and your nails scratching at the nape of his neck, playing with the short strands of his undercut. It drags a guttural groan from him, humming in response to your actions as he pulls away from you. 

Your eyes flutter open to make contact with him once more, they’re glossy and needy as they beg for me. “Please…”

You don’t know what you’re begging for to be quite honest. You just need to feel more of him— to no longer be restrained by each other’s clothing; to feel each other’s raw bodies against each other’s. Bakugo knows exactly what you want, what you so specifically desire. And as much as he wants to give into those natural urges, he finds it fun to tease. “What’s it that ya want?”

His rough fingers start to traverse your body, from the nape of your neck down to your shoulders as goosebumps start to rise in anticipation. From the crevice of your shoulder to your waist does his fingers travel upwards to flick at the nub of your breasts and down to your navel. “What do you want inside of you, hm?”

His gruff and gravelly voice really does wonders to you, spiking up your heart rate even more that you’re concerned if this’ll turn into a medical mishap. Body still so close to yours, you can feel his body heat mixing with yours as small beads of sweat begin to form. “Do you want my fingers inside of ya?” he inquires. “The same ones that were used to hide a dead body? You’d fuckin’ like that, wouldn’t ya?”

And you nod ever so shamelessly, eyes pleading with him to make you feel full in some sort of capacity. “Ah,” he hums. “Once again, so quick to comply and say ‘yes’ to anything I tell ya. It’s kind of… pathetic.”

You let out a screech, fingers reaching for your hair and pulling ever so roughly. He’s forced you to bear out your neck, your chest heaving heavily as you pant. “Don’t you think so, too?”

You squeal out something incoherent, too fixated on the pain to contort anything understandable. However, his grip loosens as he once again pulls you in for a kiss, swallowing away the momentary pain. Pulling away once more, Bakugo looks at you to say, “don’t worry, doll. I promise to make ya feel good.”

He’s kept well on his promise, fingers stuffed inside of you as he’s still got you sat on the dresser. Legs spread open wide for him as he’s hell-bent on seeing just how well your pussy reacts to him. Your juices secrete onto the piece of furniture as your mind is fixated and captivated on this brute of a man. Two digits stuffed inside of you— thick and intimidating. The hands of a murderer, your subconscious whispers into the back of your mind, yet you can’t find the strength to fight him off. And you sure as hell don’t want to, especially when those said hands are being used to bring you to such immense pleasure right now. Has a man ever made you feel this good before? 

You’re afraid to answer your own question as you’re letting another moan as your thighs begin to tighten and your sweet cunt starts clenching around his fingers. Your hand reaches to grab his wrists, but he’s unrelenting as he speeds up the pace. “Oh, God…” you cry out.

“No God here,” Bakugo smiles connivingly. “Just me, doll.”

“I— I’m gonna—”

“Let this pussy cream all over my fingers, baby,” he drawls, spreading your legs even wider with his free hand as he feels your walls pulsate around him. “Show me how much of a dirty slut you are for me.”

And the way your body follows his commands boosts his already inflated ego, a maniacal grin gracing his features as he watches your body convulse. Your mouth falls open in an ‘O’ as you have fallen speechless. A white band forms around the base of his fingers as he continues fingering you through your orgasm, a small puddle starting to form as it widens and sticks to your inner thighs as he watches you in delight. “Yeahhhh…” he breathes, barely above a whisper. 

Not a complete asshole, he gives you a moment for you to relax before he’s pulling you out of your haze suddenly. Forcing your legs to wrap around his waist, he carries you over to the bed, dropping you on it and watching your body bounce on it as he’s caught you off guard. In this naked glory and now laying on the bed so vulnerably, it’s given Bakugo the better opportunity to ogle your body much more closely. He takes in your breasts and your curves down to your delectable cunt that still glistens from your orgasm. Eyes traveling back to your face, nothing beats those features of yours. 

What’s a sweet little maid doing in the hands of him? You’ve surely lost your way.

Bakugo starts pulling off his own clothes, giving you a show that you have no intent on looking away from. And the way your pupils darken is all the reminder that he needs that you aren’t no saint. Reaching for his pants, he pulls at the buckle of the belt, dragging it from the loops with one aggressive swoop before dropping it on the bed. It could possibly find itself handy. 

He maintains eye contact with you, as he watches you sit up on the bed. Unzipping his pants, he shimmies out of it before kicking them off and slowly crawling on the bed and over you. He feels like a predator who’s caught his prey and ready to devour you. Your eyes widen in expectancy, ready and waiting for him to pounce. Both now in an equally naked glory, you’re ready for whatever he has to give. However, from hovering over your body, he’s sitting up once more and removing such close proximity that has you confused and has you questioning his next move. 

Until you feel a hand on your ankle. You can’t imagine the ease it takes to flip you over, not letting out a single grunt as he’s gotten you on your stomach now. Breasts pushed into the soft fabrics of the bed with a hand pushing down on your back as you feel his heavy-weight against you. The jingle of his belt comes to your ears as you look behind you, feeling both of your hands in his grip and he’s using the piece of leather to bind them together. He watches you intently as he smirks, “Can’t have ya movin’ ‘round while I use your perfect little pussy.”

He fixes you how he wants, forcing you on your knees as your upper body lays pliant and still. He’s got your ass and pussy out in the open for his use and he watches how your cunt is once again begging to be filled, clenching onto nothing in the search of friction. He’s got a hand around his length, hard and waiting to fill itself into you and ruin this pretty little body of yours. Dark shaft of his that’s veiny and cut tip leaking of pre, he rubs his head as the many possible ideas of what he could do to you rings throughout his mind. But with the aching throb of his cock, he knows he can’t keep withholding you what you want— what the both of you want. 

With his body weight, he inches forward until you can feel his skin against you. His heavy cock in between the crevice of your ass as his body heat radiates off him like the scorching sun. Engulfed in his presence, your breath hitches as you tug on the tight restraints of the belt wrapped around your wrists. The raspy chuckle that escapes the man above you sends shivers down your spine as he leans into you. His chest presses against you as one hand grabs at the belt-bounded hands and the other helps align his cock with your entrance. “Y’think yer ready for the wild ride, doll? Cuz I don’t think I’ll stop once I start. This pussy just looks too good to give up.”

“Yes,” you huff out, nodding. “Please, I need you in me.”

He grins. “Whatever y’say.”

The walls of your apartment are paper thin, so you don’t doubt that your neighbors can hear your extracurricular activities. You’re not being considerate of their comfort at all as you shamelessly weil into the night. Skin slapping against skin, the wet sloshing sound of your juices sounding through your bedroom as Bakugo fucks you viciously. You’re crying out like a disgusting little whore, first whining about how he was too big of a stretch and now look at you. You’re not bitching anymore. 

“Look at ya,” Bakugo grunts, keeping up the rough and torturous pace. “Taking my cock like the nasty little slut ya’re.”

A thumb prodding at your asshole, puckered and tight, Bakugo lets out a nice string of saliva trickle down in between your ass as he massages the next entrance. The action has you clenching as your nails dig into the palm of your hands, tensing up at the feeling of him teasing your hole. He slaps your ass, nonverbally reprimanding you. “Don’t tell me you can’t handle a finger up your ass now,” he mocks you. “Aww, don’t tell me you can’t handle it. Don’tcha wanna feel good? I know you do.”

You mewl, eyes shut as your face is stuffed into the comfort of your silk-clad pillow, you don’t utter a word to Bakugo. Can’t bring yourself to. “Don’t worry, doll—” For once, Bakugo’s a bit more gentle. Still keeping the exhausting pace of drilling your poor pussy, he rubs your ass with a gentleness. “—It’ll only hurt for a moment.”

He doesn’t give you any warnings, only pressing his thumb deeper until he can’t anymore. Just as he said, where one moment you were squealing in pain, the next your body relaxed as your nerves didn’t know what exactly to focus on. The beatings of your cunt or the thick digit invading your ass. Right as you got adjusted to the additional penetration, you let out a dragged moan that only had Bakugo smirking. “Told ya,” he says with a smack of your ass. 

It’s all overwhelming, how you feel so full yet can’t reach behind you to touch Bakugo, to pull him impossibly closer to you. You whine and moan out, high-pitched sounds that’re like music to Bakugo’s ears as you jut your ass back into him. Your cock swallows him whole, your sweet cunt pulsating and clenching around his length in a desperation for him to breed you. And fuck is he tempted to. He can imagine the ropes of cum he could pour into you, mixing with that intoxicating nectar of yours.

His grunts and moans are guttural as he withholds his orgasm, waiting for that perfect moment. With his thumb still inside your hole, he presses the palm of his hand into your ass, the pads of his fingers digging into your skin and threatening to create dark bruises. “C’mon, doll. I ain’t got all night.”

You’re so close, you can feel it. In the pit of your stomach, that familiar churn rises up inside of you and bubbling up to be something deadly. “Fuck,” you cry. “‘M so close!”

It’s inhumanly possible, but Bakugo speeds up even more, battering down on your pussy until you’re screeching out a garbled mess. White blurs your vision and if Bakugo was trying to say anything, you didn’t hear it. Your body spasms as you feel your inner thighs and the sheets beneath you get soaked. You don’t register the sudden hollowness you feel as Bakugo pulls out, the sight of you squirting getting him on so much that his orgasm follows yours shortly after. Ejaculating, he spurts his cum all over your back as your legs fall pliant as the last of your juices seep into your sheets and you can only lay in your mess. 

Cock softening as droplets of his orgasm drip down your ass, Bakugo pants as he looks at the time. Half past three in the morning, he should really leave. He knows this, but he’s exhausted and if he makes more than five movements, he’s going to knock out for sure. “Fuck,” he curses as he climbs off you and falls to your left side. You’re panting heavily, chest rising and falling as Bakugo looks over at you. Your eyes feel heavy and you’re trying to force yourself to stay awake, but to no avail. With all the strength you have left, you spin to the side and your back towards the blonde in your bed. Bakugo snorts as he shuffles to turn away from you as well. G’night, he grunts out in his mind. 

—

“I’m not a murderer, by the way.” Bakugo finds his way on the edge of the bed, his back towards you. The sun peeks out through your curtains, giving him the light he needs to get dressed. “Don’t think I’ve ever clarified that. I didn’t kill that poor piece of shit.”

He catches you off guard, making you turn around to view his back. Processing his words, you’re not sure if you believe him or not, but you decide to go along with it. You’ve already laid in bed with the man and you’ve given up on convincing yourself of the morals that you believed you once had. Was this a way to make you feel any better? “Then, what are you?” You didn’t mean for the little laugh to leave you at the end of your question, making it seem like you were doubting him. Though truthfully, you were. 

“I just clean up the bodies after the murder,” he explains as he gets dressed, ignoring your little chuckle. He can’t blame you. “Someone else kills them and I hide the evidence that it even happened.”

“Oh,” you breathe, intrigued. There’s a job for that? Before you can answer any questions, he stands. Now fully clothed, all except for his shoes. 

“Yeah,” he answers, gruffly. “I’ve sent out a recommendation for ya. You seem fit for the job, so I made a call to one of the higher ups to get in contact with ya.”

“You… you did?” Furrowing your eyebrows, it catches you off guard. “How’d… when did you even have the time to do that? You were pretty much glued to me the moment I walked in on you.”

Bakugo smirks. “I’ve got my ways—” Glancing at the clock, he silently curses to himself. “—Anyways, I’ve got to go. See ya around or whatever.”

Your eyes widen at the announcement of his departure, making you sit up in the bed and reach out to him. “Wait!”

“What?” he snaps back, glaring right at you now. “I’ve gotta go.”

“Is that it?” you ask, not sure what exactly that you’re asking. “Is there nothing else?”

“Nothing else to what?” he turns back around. “I’m pretty damn sure you won’t call the cops. That’d be stupid of ya.”

That smirk on his face. Moments ago, you found it to be such a sexually appealing thing, but now you just wanna smack it off his face. “Or what? You want me to say I had a good time with ya? Is that it, doll?”

Your face heats up as you grow flustered. “No.”

“If it makes you sleep better at night,” he crosses his arms, making them bulge even more. “I did.”

With that, he gives you another once over before reaching for the door. Without a goodbye, he swings it open and then shut as he quickly makes his departure.

—

SEVENTY-TWO HOURS LATER 

Bang, bang, bang. Three hefty knocks at your door that makes you jump out of your seat from around your very small and quaint living area. You haven’t heard from Bakugo since he’s left, and you don’t know how you expect him to when you don’t even have any way to contact him. However, you were still hopeful— still had him on your mind since the moment he walked out of your small apartment. From the three knocks, you’re hoping that it’s him, coming to devour you like he did three days ago. 

“Who is it?” you call out from the other side, but there’s no response. When you look through the small peep hole there’s no one there. Kissing your teeth, you’re about to head back to the couch when something in the back of your mind tells you to turn back around. When you do, you hear the small slip of paper slide from underneath the front door and there’s a singular letter sitting there right at your feet. 

Picking it up, the envelope just has your name on it— first and last— nothing else. Not your address and not one from who or where it came from. It reminded you of some of the last things Bakugo told you. “I’ve sent out a recommendation for ya. You seem fit for the job, so I made a call to one of the higher ups to get in contact with ya.”

Ripping open the envelope, you let the tattered thing fall to the ground as you read letter:

Dear (Y/N),

It’s a shame to know that one of our trusted agents was caught during a mission. Truthfully, you should’ve been handled with more care and caution, but if it were to go that way, you wouldn’t be receiving such an invite like this. Agent #B354 has recommended you to join our very secretive profession to be part of our agency. 

We will give you another twenty-four hours to make a decision and get your bearings together. Whether or not you accept this invitation, you will be sworn to secrecy about this organization or you will be dealt with accordingly— as you should’ve originally been. If you decide to join, welcome to the team Agent #Y976. If you decide that this profession isn’t for you, you’ll receive a non-disclosure agreement to sign and we wish you the best of luck in life.

From, NMC Organization

( departing words. ) honestly, this fic could've gone on longer and i feel like it could be more detailed, but i don't have the time for that, unfortunately. please leave your comments and feedback below!

[rimaiahwrites]

more looks into the life of connie and his princess puh-leeze !!! that fic was so cute i’m obsessed

YESS I LOVE THEM SO HERE YALL GOO

(This soo late lol imma edit it tomorrow sorry about any mistakes) kinda short too but anywho

—

Connie’s good girl

The school year has been so rough for y/n, you have been more stressed than ever and was nearly burnt out. Connie knew this and was helping as much as he could but a lot of the time he was also busy with making drops and making ‘business’ plans with ony so when he was very pleased to see you running in the living room with a piece of paper in your hand waving it around with a big grin. “Pa look, look!” You said extremely excited. He grabbed the paper and realized it was your report card and it had only As and A pluses on it, no B or C in sight. He grinned before picking you up and spinning you around in his arms, “Good job princess, all AS!” He kissed your cheeks than your neck making you squeal and giggles since you were so ticklish. “I knew you could do it mama.” You smiled shyly, it always felt good to get so much praise from Connie, other then yourself he was the only person you ever truly wanted to make proud.

“You proud of me papa?” You grinned standing up on your tippy toes to kiss him on the lips. “Mhm very proud I think my princesa need some rewards.” You beamed with glee because that means Connie was going to get you whatever you wanted. You were already spoiled as it is but now that he had a real reason to spoil you today you knew it was going to be something special.

You went to get ready right away. You sported a mini flare skirt with a cute colorfully cropped top with spaghetti straps and pink kitten heels. Your hair was in a half up half down style with two ponytails. You were very cute to say the least.

“You look cute today mama, hope you got sum’ under this short ass skirt tho.” Connie said walking up to you running his hands to you ass to check. You rolled your eyes playfully, of course you did because you knew he didn’t play about any of that with his. “Yes I do now let’s gooo” you say pulling him to the front door. You connected your phone to his Bluetooth in his all black hellcat because of course You being the princess passenger you always got to play your music in the car unless you wanted to hear his. Connie speed out of his driveway like a damn crazy man you were truly surprised he hasn’t gotten into any car accidents with the way he drives, him being a speed racer makes it no better either.

Once you were in the mall it was like a kid in a candy store, you were pulling him to every store your eyes landed on, you got sneakers, heels, couple of bags, cute clothes makeup really anything your little heart desired and Connie was right there supporting you pulling his card out as soon as you stepped up to the cashier. It made your heart swell every time he did too, not just because he was spending his money on you but because he truly treated you like a little princess.

“Con which one?” You asked holding up two bags one dark pink and the other light pink. “I don’t know baby which ever one you want.” Connie mumbled kissing you on the cheek. You huffed and pouted “that’s why I asked you I don’t know what I want papa.” You rolled your eyes still looking at both of them not paying any attention to your surroundings clearly because the older white lady standing closely behind gasped and eyed you shocked at the pet name that you normally addressed Connie as. Connie snorted a chuckle looking the lady in the eye and pointed to the dark pink one. “That one you got a lot of clothes it will match with plus papa loves you in that color.” He said pulling you close and sliding his hand down to you ass gripping it a bit inwardly laughing at the white haired women awkwardly trying to avoid eye contact. You grinned and placed the other one down planting a big kiss on his shape jawline. “I think this is all I want pa let’s go home my feet hurt.” You cried playfully limping a bit.

Connie walked out the mall with Seven bags filled in his arms and you clinging on to him like a koala bear because your feet were hurting to bad from the heel and Connie of course spoiled you to no end and one little whine from you and next thing you knew you were being carried to the car.

“Thank you for all this I really appreciate it” You shyly admit, he was so fine that sometimes it intimidated you a little like his side profile, the neck tattoos going all the way down his arm and hand. He smiled back and leaned over to place a kiss on your soft lips. “You’re welcome mama, my pretty girl so polite let’s get home so I can give you your other presents.” He smirked as he bit and tugged on your bottom lip softly making you whine and clench your legs tightly.

-

Connie pulled his gaming chair to the mirror in his bedroom and pulled his shirt off, his tattoos on his chest now visible, you had just gotten out of the shower and you had nothing on but one of his big black t shirt. No Panties or bra. “C’mer.” You walked over to him with shaking legs knowing he was about to fuck you dumb. He pulled you on his lap and got started on your neck, kissing gently and pushing his hands under you makeshift nightgown and squeezed your boobs making you moan out a little bit. You bite your lip and watched him through the mirror. He was being so gentle with you like you were made of glass, you rubbed your legs together making your slick spend from your entrance to your clit. Connie quickly caught on and grinned against your neck. “be patient mama imma get to it.” You tried your best to slow your breathing but he was in your ear whispering and touching you. You were getting turned on very quickly. Connie ignored your needy moan and continued on with the teasingly foreplay before he pulled you against his chest and pulled your legs apart opening you up.

Your breath got caught in your throat when you saw your pink insides and Connie staring holes into mirror. “Look at this pretty pink pussy…so wet is that all for me?” You were quick on nodding your head. “I know.” He took his hand and rubbed his fingers up and down your slit slowly, killing you on the inside. He rubbed your clit for a beat before sliding his thick fingers in. Your pussy was already clenching onto him. “Ah-mm please go faster” you moaned. He nodded before he stroked his fingers deeper hitting your spot. Your eyes rolled shut and leaned your head back on his shoulder. “That feel good? Tell papa let me hear you.” You tried your best but only a pathetic whine was heard. That was good enough for him..for now. He pulled his fingers from you and placed them in his mouth sucking your cum off. “Why’d you stopp?” Your spoiled ass whine kicking your foot up a little. He chuckled and flipped your around so you were facing him. “Cuz I want you to cum on my dick not my fingers now stop whining.” He pulled his sweatpants down and his dick strung out, it’s tip was pink and wet with prenut.

“Come get up on it mama.” He pulled you up higher so you were above him and rubbed his tip up and down your slit before dipping in your sweet warm pussy. Your eyes widened from the shock it had only been a few days since he had given you dick but it was so big to you that you didn’t think you’ll ever get over the shook of his tip sliding in. “P-pa- ehhh” he looked up at you seeing the look of discomfort on your face. “I know it’s all the way in.” He said before slamming you down on it. “Oh fuck! Oh fuuuuckkk!” You moaned placing your hand on his shoulders trying to balance yourself but that was all thrown off because he started thrusting from up underneath you.

You gasped loudly grabbing his shoulders. “Waitt papa wait!” He smirked and thrusted harder, his dick hitting your g spot perfectly everyday. Your finger nails gripped into his strong tattooed arm.

“Yeahhh I’m getting in that pussy huhh mama” he said his voice raspy and deep, his tongue folded on his bottom lip. Your pussy was so tight and gripping his dick so good. You nodded your head already feeling out of it.

“Tell me how it feel baby…tell daddy.”

“Good, feel good daddyy.” You whine trying to sit up to ride him, you got up on your toes and laid your hands on his torso, he grinned big watching you “you gon ride like a big girl? Oh you acting outta character today princess.” You giggled but as soon as you sunk down you quickly remembered why you didn’t ride him often. “Go ahead you can do it baby.” You slowly but surely begin going quickly hitting deeper than before. Your knees knocked together when it started getting a little to deep and good.

“Gimme it! Gimme that daddy dick papa please I been a good girl promise!” You went on and on.

“Get it than mama you in control right now.” Connie said through small groans, you shook your head you wanted to keep going but all your strength was getting zapped. You fall onto his chest shaking like a leaf, his dick popping out. “Aw princess I thought you was gonna be a big girl and take it?” Connie chuckled smacking your ass making you jump a little.

“Papa I tried it’s just so hard and my legs aren’t that strong.” You pouted.

“That’s ok, that’s why I go to the gym.” He chuckled and picked you up by your legs and put his dick back in.

He Bounced you up and down, your loud wails were surely heard by the neighbors but Connie couldn’t give a fuck he was making his pretty girl feel good and that all that mattered to him…and you. You felt like you were in a whole different dimension you were hearing color and seeing sounds, your eyes felt like they were permanently crossed.

Connie loved your fucked out face, the drool and tears making you even prettier.

“M’ gonna nut daddy please don’t wanna make a mess on the floor waitt!” You sobbed, Connie ignored you and pounded harder because that’s exactly what he wanted.

“I know baby I know gimme that juice it’s okay daddy will clean it up.” He smiled gripping your face with one hand and the other holding you up, he placed a sweet kiss on your lips.

You whined against his lips and let it all out on his dick and floors. “There we gooo, mhmm.” He groaned rubbing his pink tip up and down your slit making your cum fling all over the both of you. You placed your face in his neck embarrassed hearing the loud splashing sounds. He smiled and waited to until your breathing evened out before setting you down on his bed. “You gonna suck daddy up?”

“Mhmm” You hummed giving him the prettiest smile before bringing his dick up to your lips.

“Daddies need to get spoiled too sometimes.”

[the-saltiest-saltine]

Enjoy this heartwarming fic about the importance of having reliable nondescript friends in the face of a scary situation. You and her can totally fight off a prospective attacker together, you’re sure - after all, you’ve got the power of friendship!

Yan!Chrollo x Reader

Word count: ~ 1.9k

Warnings: Yandere, stalking, implied voyeurism, implied torture

You’ve got a stalker. You know this for sure.

Wherever you go, you can feel a gaze. 

Your train rides and walks through some of the dodgier parts of the central business district after a busy day have always had their fair share of sketchy characters - it’s been a near-daily part of your life since you first came here several weeks ago - but this feeling was different. It wasn’t some junkie looking for a punch-up, no. It was specific. It was targeted.

What started as a feeling of slight watching in public, became a metaphorical spotlight in your apartment, blinding and irritating. You keep your windows shut and locked, not wanting the biting chill of the smoggy winter air to creep its way inside your residence. This doesn’t stop you from constantly coming home to find your kitchen window wound open, all these stories up. You know it’s definitely impossible for a regular man to get up here from the outside, since your front door is always locked and there’s no balcony.

You wish he’d leave you alone at the library, at least. It’s nice and relatively quaint, a much-appreciated juxtaposition from your otherwise industrial setting, and the least your stalker could afford is some privacy so you can enjoy it to its fullest.

The stare is intense, filled with neediness and darkness. You’re sure the eyes of whoever is creating it are a void, the most unusual colour of emptiness and depravity. You can’t pinpoint any particular reason why this is happening - generally, you’re pretty quiet and unassuming. You have no rich family to pay a ransom, and your organs wouldn’t be worth much. Simply put, a person like you is not worth the trouble.

Your best cure for this feeling so far has been to simply sigh, and open up your latest novel, indulging in a few chapters. The feeling subsides after a little while. Perhaps he gets bored of watching you partake in an activity so unappealing to an outside viewer. Perhaps he grabs out his own book and indulges himself, though you doubt that’s the case (-but that would be a nice thought, wouldn’t it? Imitation is, after all, the sincerest form of flattery).

Tonight, you found a card on your kitchen bench. By the looks of it, it’s not a parting message, rather the opposite. The intricate red pattern on it is almost enough to be considered romantic, but you’re hardly feeling the charm. It’s unsettling, to say the least, but you can’t even bring yourself to be scared. 

If anything, this issue annoys you now. It’s been a long, exhausting day at work. It gets uncomfortably cold if the window's left open. If someone’s going to kill you, they might as well just try already. Being stalked is so tiresome.

You don’t have enough tangible evidence to file a police report, simple sensings of a watcher not nearly enough proof to have police aid you. Funnily enough, this takes the bottom rung on the ladder of reasons why you can’t contact them. You can almost laugh at the thought of even trying. If this persists, you’ll call your friends instead.

Unfortunately, your welcome to this city has been anything but warm. 

Luckily, you’ve got one modicum of hope.

There’s a woman in your life.

She’s beautiful, inside and out. Her smiles are a breath of fresh air in this wretched city. You can’t say you’re exactly dating yet, but whatever tier below it you’ve got now is certainly better than whatever was there before. Something like gratitude, as much as you’re naturally inclined to overlook it, hits you like a truck whenever you’re together.

Unlike you, she’s not new here. She’s been a great tour guide so far, introducing you to practically every street corner, every Indian restaurant, every speck of dirt and faeces on the wrecked footpaths that the slimy Mayor neglects. It’s hard to worry about a stalker when you’re being bombarded with random questions and consumed by her laugh, echoing between the skyscrapers and into comforting mugs of hot chocolate.

The time you spend with her is precious, sacred even. You won’t let the mystery man get in the way of that.

Long before that card made its way to your residence, you did call a friend, the friend, about your problem, getting a response within two rings. You told her about your stalker, sniffling and regularly hiccupping, telling her about how you think there’s someone after you. She was practically frantic, demanding that you come over to her apartment right that instant, barking out her address without hesitation. It’s only fifteen minutes away, she assured. You got there in seven.

She flung open the door at the first knock, saying your name with relief and letting you in. You spared her most of the details as you sat on her couch, not wanting her to put herself in harm’s way. Despite your shaky insistence that you’ll be fine regardless, she gave you some pepper spray to help defend yourself, and some tips on how to hold your keys between your knuckles most effectively.

I’ll protect you if anything happens, she says, her support of you positively admirable. You know she’d try and fight him off if you were together when he strikes. 

You’re certain that your combined forces are enough to fight off a fully grown man, you declared in response - and you meant it. In fact, you added, scratch that, you’re absolutely convinced that your cumulative strength - consisting of four arms, pepper spray, and her high-pitched scream - is enough to fight off a bodybuilder pumped full of anything and everything you can get in the alleys behind the city’s numerous smoke shops. She laughed at that, but you know she still worries for you.

You can come with me anywhere if you’re uncomfortable, she said. Really, if you’re worried, just call me up. I can leave work early if you think you’re in danger, honestly. My manager is flexible enough.

Appreciation swirls around you in waves again. Naturally, you have your scepticism. It’s almost too generous, too forward, something you’re certainly not accustomed to. But alas, you’ll firmly grip whatever opportunities present themselves. She offers you what she can, and you don’t hold yourself back from accepting it with open arms.

You’ve accompanied her to the bar, to the library, to her favourite café. It’s pleasant. It’s peaceful. You’re still being watched for certain, but the ability to have a brief moment of levity whilst in her presence, something to help you forget about work and responsibilities and stalkers, is something to be treasured.

She’s so calming, so sweet, so caring…

And so, so oblivious.

You’ve accompanied her to the bar, to the library, to her favourite café. However, if you were to ask, she’d say with the utmost conviction that you were never there (and that she’d love to show you). You’ve accompanied her on her commute home, made cups of tea in her kitchen, folded dog ears in the untouched novels on her bookshelf, hoping she’ll note the romantic scenes and lines you’ve kindly bookmarked for her. 

She’s promised to protect you. She never questioned why your little whimpers died down so suddenly after she gave you her address. She never questioned how you got there so fast. If she’d been wary enough to use the location services on her phone, she would’ve been able to see that seven minutes was actually a while to arrive, considering you were a twenty-metre walk down the hallway when you’d called.

She simply ate up your little performance over the phone, and in her apartment. And, soon enough, she’ll be coming to yours. 

Yesterday, she told you about the new exhibit at the city’s museum - she went to get a glimpse of it the other day, and it looks promising.

You went to get a glimpse of it too, twenty metres behind her.

The day before, she told you about how she ordered a new drink at a café- it was absolutely to die for, and oh, by the way, did you know that café is her favourite in the city?

You inferred that much from her frequent visits there, following her routine so effortlessly that it became your own. You tried the drink out too, taking sips in time with hers, admiring her profile as she scrolled through her phone. She was so pleased to finally have an afternoon to herself, after a week of hectic shifts.

Something unfamiliar stokes inside of you as you make your observations. Perhaps it’s comparable to a parent seeing their child grow and develop, or a botanist seeing rare flowers bloom, or an astronomer observing the most uncommon and exquisite of meteorological events. It’s something like happiness, something like attachment, something like wonder, something like pride.

On the other hand, you must admit, you’re a little disappointed. She lied to you.

She didn’t tell you about the man she slept with from the bar last week. Technically, you never asked about it, considering that you weren’t supposed to be there, but you’re a man who considers lying by omission to be on an equal plane as wholehearted deception. She promised to never lie to you, but now she has. What should she have to do to earn your forgiveness?

Although, perhaps this encounter was no matter, the sounds she made being enough fuel for your frantic stroking outside her bedroom door, her whines teaching you what to do when you would be in the stranger’s place, a point in time that won’t be too far from now. For the sake of equality, though, you’ll let this one slide. After all, you didn’t tell her about the man’s fate after that night, about your other friend who’d assisted you, about the teeth scattered on the cold basement floor, about the strips of flesh that hung from his back and how you’d apathetically tugged on them.

She’s a very good source of information for you. Truly, you hadn’t expected to spend so long in this city, nor had you expected for the museum to open up again so quickly since your heist two months ago only a few towns over, locked down for precaution (a laughable concept, really). Without her, you wouldn’t have anyone to debate the validity of the Old Testament, the extent that Raskolnikov can be justified, or theories on what happens after death. Also, without her, you wouldn’t have found out about the museum’s new exhibit of Goya paintings so soon, teasingly left out in the open, ripe for the plucking mere minutes away from your penthouse. It’s a temptation you’ve never bothered resisting.

Despite being a Nen user, whoever’s stalking you doesn’t care to hide himself properly. His perfect Zetsu is rendered useless from his other behaviours. You can hear his footsteps outside of the window, see his shadow in your periphery, hear his heavy breathing and salacious groans as he watches you.

If you were more dramatic, you’d roll your eyes. With Skill Hunter available on command, you have no doubt that this fool would lose to you in a fight. You’ve been observing his patterns, feeling his aura, preparing yourself for the inevitable.

You’ve been doing the same for your friend, however loosely you may use the term.

Whatever the man following you wants, you’ll take from him tenfold. You pick up the playing card from the bench, a queen of hearts, and regard it between your fingers.

You’ve got a stalker. She’s got a stalker too. But, unlike you, she won’t have the means to counter his next move.

[ronwestbreeze]

TO YOU , WORLDS AWAY : PART ONE : CHAPTER FOUR

pairing: jake sully x human!fem!reader

summary: in which you go back to hell's gate for a check-in

warnings: mentions of su*cide

word count: 2.8k

author's note: i like going into character backgrounds and relationships with others so that's gonna happen a lot in this fic along with developing jake and reader's relationship, hope y'all don't mind!

AO3 | prev | next

“It’s Quaritch.”

Grace’s voice cut through your otherwise quiet lab, rattling you out of your peace by uttering just one name.

“Why?” Was what left your lips first.

Grace closed the door and walked further into your lab before continuing, “Check-in. He’s been doing it monthly, ever since we came to Site 26. Jake’s the one who’s been usually reporting back to him.”

You moved your designs for Project Pandora to the side and out of her sight when she got closer. “What’s changed?” You turned to look at her with furrowed brows before switching to Na’vi, “Is he not his puppet?”

She frowned, giving you one of her scolding parent looks, “He’s changing.” Her scowl hardened when you rolled your eyes before continuing. “And I know you’ve seen it too. And if the both of us have noticed then Quaritch has bound to as well. Why else is he asking for you instead of Jake?”

“Probably to torment me. Let me know that I’m somehow still under his control.” You glared down at your hands that were now clenched together.

“Like a puppet?” Grace asked gently. You didn’t respond. She took another chair in the corner of the room and pulled it up next to you. “Tinkers, listen to me. You gotta stop letting him get in your head.”

“I could say no.” You mumble instead, eyes still on your hands. “That I won’t meet him. Send him a big middle finger while I’m at it.”

Grace snorted, “As much as I want that—and believe me, I do—something tells me we shouldn’t mess with things—”

Your jaw clenched and you shook your head sharply, “If I continue to go back there, to be summoned by him like some lapdog, then I am no better than those soldiers that continue to follow him!”

Grace went quiet as you fought back tears.

No matter what you did to try and move on, to try and not think about it, that night still played over and over again in your mind. Appeared in your dreams—barely sleeping now because of it—it was all still fresh. Like it happened only yesterday instead of two years ago.

You held your head in your hands, tears now streaming down your face, throat closing up as you let out shaky and strained sobs.

“I could’ve stopped him, Grace. I could’ve convinced him—”

“No, no.” The scientist shook her head firmly, grasping your hand tightly in hers. “None of what happened is your fault. Do you hear me?” She then grasped your face so you were looking at her.  “Don’t ever blame yourself for what happened. That was on Quaritch and the RDA, not you.” Her thumbs wiped at the tears as she continued in a quieter voice, “We can’t keep living in the past, kiddo. Especially, when the preset is constantly changing before us.”

You nod, sniffling. It took a few minutes for you to calm down. Grace waited right next to you. Her hand resting on your shoulder and giving it a gentle squeeze every now and then. It was a comfort, her presence always was. Until you met Grace Augustine, you never truly knew what a parent’s love was. Not really.

Your mother was always busy building her legacy in science, making sure to make a solid name for herself so that she’d earn great respect. To be looked at in the same light as her other successful male colleagues. There wasn’t anything wrong with that, in fact you admired her greatly for it and it always inspired you to do the same. But the chance of being a mother was never in the cards for her. She was always too busy and worked herself to an early grave. You were sixteen.

Then there was your father. A respected military captain and a longtime friend of Miles Quaritch. Shot himself in the head in his bedroom while you were downstairs, oblivious until the nanny found him hours later. You were nine.

In your father’s letter, he had asked for Quaritch to take you in and help your mother take care of you, to have a father-like figure in your life. You had to laugh at that, really. The damned bastard wasn’t even taking care of his own kid, a fucking baby at that, and yet your father expected him to do the same for you? It was ironic, really.

Quaritch did for a while. Wasn’t perfect at it but he was all you had, so who were you to complain in the beginning.

Then the shut down of Grace’s school happened and it felt as if you had been abandoned all over again.

But Grace found you. She’d always find you.

You chuckled pathetically, wiping at your eyes. “You really don’t have to take care of me like this. I know I can be a lot.”

“Hey, someone has to keep your genius intact. Otherwise who else would be able to keep up with my own genius?” Grace smirked, shaking your shoulders.

With a snort, you smacked her hand away and stood. “I’ll see him.” Grace watched you cautiously and you nodded confidently to yourself. “Yeah, I’ll do it.” Just as you grabbed your mask and radio, you turned back to the redhead woman as she got up as well. “What do you want me to tell him?”

Both of you exited your lab. Norm was sitting next to the link bed where Jake was currently about to get linked up in. Upon the men both noticing you both, Grace switched to Na’vi, “Tell him we’re making progress, nothing more. And if he starts asking questions, just be you and piss him off.”

You frown, “If I do that, he might raid my lab and shut us down.”

“Then find any reason to end the conversation before he starts pushing.” Grace sighed.

“I’ll try, I guess.” You started messing with the radio.

“Where are you going?” Jake asked, as you tried calling Trudy through the radio to pick you up.

With a shrug, you said as you gripped the mask tightly in your other hand, “Well, apparently his little puppet isn’t cutting it anymore, so Quaritch wants to see me.”

Jake straightened, staring at you with a mixture of disbelief and perhaps worry, “Wait, what? What does he want with you? Why didn’t he just request to see me like he always does?”

“What do you mean by puppet?” Norm asked instead, glancing between you and Jake curiously. “Is that like some strange sexual innuendo that I’m not getting?”

You roll your eyes and decide to focus on the radio as Grace replies instead, “Norm, you think you can take over lessons for Jake today?”

“Yeah, sure.” You heard him mutter while the radio came to life with Trudy’s voice.

After a few minutes of conversation, you finally turned back to the others, “Trudy will be here in twenty. She’s sending a helicopter.”

“Doc.” Jake called, trying to catch your eye. When you allowed yourself to meet his gaze he spoke to you softly in Na’vi. “Are you sure about this?��

You try not to look impressed, “You’ve gotten better, Puppet. But of course it’s because of me , so I’m not surprised.” Making a joke and forcing a smile was what kept you from breaking down into tears again.

Fortunately, Grace changed the subject, “Come on, Marine. Time to get going. I’m sure she’s waiting on you.”

Reluctantly, after breaking gazes, Jake finally lied down as Grace got him linked up.

Norm turned to you, brows raised curiously, “Why does the Colonel want to see you?”

You sighed, “Honestly, I really don’t give a shit.”

“Atta girl.” Grace grinned.

The cafeteria was empty save for you and Quaritch. He was already sitting when you entered and sat down at the table with him. You always felt small around him, like you were still this little girl looking up at him, intimidated by him. Instead of allowing him to see that, you willed your face into a blank mask and frowned at him, waiting for him to ask the questions.

“Corporal tells me you’ve been doing a good job training him.” He hummed casually, crossing his bulky arms. “I trust that means things are going well then?”

You shrugged, “I suppose. But that’s up to the Na’vi to decide if he’s one of them. Not me.”

He snorted while leaning back in his seat, “Well then what’s takin’ them so long? Those paranoid fuckers have no reason not to trust him, right? So what’s the hold up?”

“They won’t just let anyone into the clan.” You tried reasoning through gritted teeth. “It’s bad enough they don’t trust us as it is—with good reason—imagine how it would look if we were to rush their process.”

For a few moments, he watched you in both observation and disbelief. You waited, not once breaking his stare. If you were to look away, then he would know you were holding something back, hiding from him. He has a way of picking you apart. Sometimes.

“Why is it that you defend those savages? Over your own race?” Quaritch asked you as if it was a difficult concept to believe, almost as if you had betrayed him and he was trying to understand why that was.

He didn’t know what betrayal was. Not yet at least. But perhaps you had betrayed him long ago, ever since you first thought up Project Pandora.

“This isn’t our home.” You say simply, noticing his jaw tightening as you said that. “We are the trespassers. We are the infestation to them. Demons. We’ve practically destroyed parts of their home. It’s no wonder they don’t like us.”

Quaritch still watched you, keenly. “And are you filling Jake Sully’s head with this nonsense? Is that why Dr. Augustine had him carted away and out of my reach, so you all can fill his head with horseshit? Turn him against me?”

“Is that why you asked me here?”

 “I’m just lookin out for you, kiddo. Wouldn’t want you ending up on the wrong side of this war.”

Your brows furrowed, “You think there’s going to be a war? Why would there be war?”

Quaritch shrugged, “Depends on Sully. If things go our way, then we can avoid any more mess that could possibly come if it doesn’t go our way.”

Depends on Sully? What did that mean? Was there more to why Quaritch tasked Jake to infiltrate the Omatikaya? Of course you always suspected there was but you never really had enough to go on. But now that Quaritch was alluding to it, whatever he asked Jake to do, now you were worried. Now you were angry.

“Do you even care about me?”

The question threw him off, even you were startled by it. It wasn’t what you initially wanted to say but this somehow slipped out instead of the angry rant you wanted to throw his way.

Quaritch then glared, “That’s not what we’re here to talk about—”

But you kept going, “Do you care about anything other than yourself or your obsessive need to take over a planet that doesn’t even belong to you? Do you even care for your newborn son—”

“That’s enough, Doc—”

“You never talk about him. So I just assumed he was dead or that you just didn’t give a rat’s ass about him—”

“I said that’s enough—”

“You claim you’re trying to look out for me, that you don’t want me on the wrong side of the war. Is that you actually trying to be some type of father or am I just another obstacle in your way—”

The slam came before you saw his hand hit the table.

“ENOUGH!”

Quaritch was now standing, scowling down at you. Yu refused to be afraid of him, you refused to cower away. The tears in your eyes was that of anger, not fear. You hoped he knew that. Though, you weren’t entirely sure if you were trying to convince him or yourself.

He pointed at you calmly, “I’m not your father, kid. Your father is long dead. And you are a grown woman. If you want to be reckless and get yourself fucking killed then so be it. I won’t even fucking blink. You hear me?”

Your silence made him falter. Your glassy eyes made him look away from you.

The silence was deafening. Quaritch paced away, back now facing you.

“You are dismissed.”

This was a bad idea. You knew this. And yet you still came anyway. For Grace, for the Avatar Program, hell even for Jake.

You just hoped it was worth it. You really did.

When you got back Jake was still in the link bed. Norm seemed to have a better attitude these days and was helping Grace out. She must’ve given him a talk and it seemed to have worked out for the better.

You were quiet and didn’t bother to say anything when you arrived back. Grace noticed your change and immediately ordered you to the back where the beds were. You would’ve protested and said you would be better keeping yourself busy in the lab but Grace insisted. Norm didn’t ask any questions. Thank Eywa for that.

So now, you were just lying in bed either staring at the ceiling lost in thought or trying your very best to not doze off to sleep. Really, as soon as your head hit the pillow—one you hadn’t touched in weeks—your body instantly felt like taking a long overdue rest.

Usually you have avoided any type of sleep, scared of revisiting the same nightmares you’ve been having for two years now. But perhaps this time you would allow it to come. You would not fight it.

Really, fighting was the last thing you wanted to do at that moment.

“You’re back.”

You turned your head to find Jake entering the room, rolling toward the beds himself. You gave a tired smile in return, “I’m back.”

Jake tilted his head, eyes narrowing, “Have you been crying?”

There wasn’t a point to lying but there also wasn’t any point in admitting he was right either. Instead, you buried your face into your pillow and mumbled out a “Maybe.”

For a while, the two of you didn’t say anything. You heard him roll up next to your bed but you refused to look at him, knowing that if you did you’d probably cry all over again. Crying in front of him was the last thing you wanted to do, especially when you didn’t know where you stood with him right now.

Was he on your side? Was he still working with Quaritch? You thought you knew the answer before. But now…

A larger hand came to rest on the side of your head, surprising you so much you allowed yourself to look up from your pillow to meet Jake’s eyes. And see his face contorted into what looked like anger.

His hand was warm and his thumb gently wiped at the corners of your eye before caressing the side of your cheek. And then he spoke in a lowered voice.

“Next time, I talk to him.” You furrow your brows. His thumb gently rubbed around your cheek. “Alright? I go, not you.”

You wanted to ask him then and there.

Who’s side are you on? And should I trust you?

But you trusted Grace. And she believed he was changing.

So, you have to believe it too.

You weaved your fingers with the hand resting against your cheek and closed your eyes, “I can take care of myself, you know.”

He chuckled, his cool breath fanning against your eyelashes as he did. You hadn’t realized he was that close until now. “Believe me, I know. But I got myself involved with him. It’s my job to handle Quaritch. That includes keeping you away from him.”

Now it was your turn to chuckle, “Since when do you care what Quaritch does to me?”

There was pause before you heard him utter quietly, barely audible.

“He made you cry.”

You kept your eyes closed and your hand on his. If you were to move, this moment would be gone. Possibly never come back, never addressed again.

Right now you wouldn’t think about that. All you focused on was the now.

Just as you were slowly dozing off, Jake spoke, “Tomorrow Grace’s taking her avatar out to the village.”

“Mmm.”

“You should come.”

A smile tugged at your lips, “I haven’t used mine in a while. M’could be too rusty.”

You heard him laugh softly, “I can show you the basics. I’m sure you’re probably better at navigating it than me….”

Jake stopped when he noticed the way your breaths slowed down in a steady pace and how your eyes were now fluttering close with your grip on his hand loosening.

Smiling softly, he carefully took his hand away from your face and instead pulled the blanket over your body.

He sighed while looking at your sleeping form.

“What are you doing to me, Doc?”

taglist: @luvvfromme @sully-stick-together @dazedshoon @jakesullylvr @s-u-t @ssc7514 @cheari@tojigirl @nyotamalfoy @perfectprofessorloverapricot @erenjaegerwifee

[soulprompts]

Ahh, welcome back! I always get so excited to see you on my dash again! How about this for a request: kidfics! I want to write some domestic fluff involving OTP original kiddos, but I can't figure out how to go about it. Help me out? Thank you!

oh man i love this already! i'm gonna be presumptuous as all hell and assume you mean prompts in a more of a "starting off point" sense, but honestly, i'm a sucker for some domestics, so i may make some prompts in the roleplay sense in a while!

first of all, i love domestic stuff in general. and i write a multi myself with a tonne of original characters who are adopted by another OC of mine, so i have a tonne of drabbles and scenes, and one of my absolute faves is when the kids are trying to buy gifts for their parents. in reality this is obviously a very stressful thing, but in a writing context, i love it! mainly because you can play around with the concept of which child knows which parent the best, or the dynamics between the OTP, or the dynamics between the kids. "mom loves cooking, right?" "no, dad loves cooking, mom cooks out of obligation." or "i can't think of anything... dad likes sleeping... right? maybe a new pillow?" "...how sad is it that i think that's the best idea ever?" like the options are very open and easy to work with!

alternatively, if you want the parents involved more, maybe a family day out? a road trip is definitely one of my faves for that option, snacks, music, pit stops, destination, "are we there yet?" like you really have a lot of stuff there! bonus if the car breaks down. bonus bonus if they start bickering in the backseat. (again, reality vs. fiction plays a huge role here!)

another way to lean with this is maybe the siblings are trying to solve a mystery within the family. a strange phone call, a weird note, something off in the calendar. definitely plays more with the thinking of both siblings, whether they're logical or emotional, how they confront challenges, teamwork, all that fun stuff. maybe the mystery is boring as hell, but it gets amped up because of something else that's happening. a bad report card, a family argument, something negative that automatically skews the natural logic surrounding this mystery event and leads the siblings to making outlandish risks and decisions to resolve it.

aaaaand one more because it feels better to give four suggestions than three: you mentioned these are OTP kids, so maybe there's another kid on the way? the other suggestions all involve much more active storylines, but this one could go either way. the idea of the siblings doing homework or playing video games and just idly discussing baby names and favorite siblings and "will they be more like parent A or B?" and casual discussions of how to interact with the new sibling, like you could even have the parents cooking dinner in the background and dropping in a few bits of information to go with the discussion, yk? a more chill, laid-back, ordinary domestic event.

anyway i hope these are what you were looking for! i hope you have lots of fun writing the fics!

[usmsgutterson]

Forevermore- n.l x gn! Tidemaker! reader

Okay! This is part two, and in order for this to make sense, you’ll have to read part one! 

Fic type- hurt/comfort with a lot of nostalgia-type feels in it lol

Warnings- mentions of death

The day came during the summer, when you found yourself on a boat from Novyi Zem to Ravka on a six week long vacation. Just because you’d never quite thought you’d return did not mean that you were going to keep yourself from going, not when a part of you had begun longing for home, for butter week and laughter and dancing in the town square. 

Some part of you knew that you’d find your way to Os Alta, but it seemed that Tamar knew it better than you had, because when you were leaving the boat, you spotted her face, lips spread out in a grin as her gaze met yours.

“Oh, too long,” she said as you stepped off the dock and set your bags down. She hugged you tightly, and you hugged her back. “Oh, much too long.” 

“Too long indeed,” you agreed, grinning slightly as you pulled away from one another. “Missed you, Tamar. Hows the wife?”

“The wife is good,” Tamar laughed. “Though she, too, has missed you terribly. Did you have anything planned?”

“I had a room booked at the hotel twenty minutes out,” you said. “No coach, though. Nothing of the sort, actually.” 

“Well, I’ll have the room cancelled and refunded,” she said. “You need to stay at the Little Palace. Reminisce a little bit. I’ll be honest, I fear that Genya will kill you if she finds out you’re in Ravka and you haven’t visited. How long are you due to to stay?”

“Six weeks,” you said.

“Good,” Tamar nodded. “I took the royal coach. We’ll be behind Palace walls in three hours, tops.” 

You took up your luggage again, followed her unwittingly, some part of you being reminded of your friendship while you were at sea, her noticing the looks you threw at your beloved and teasing you for it, you laughing as she beat you at cards and won your rum ration for the taking. 

You rode to the Little Palace and talked throughout the entire time. Tamar gave you updates on Nikolai--including what the Darkling had done to him and the beast that came of it--and the rest of the people you’d known and loved. Genya and David. Zoya. Alina, it turned out, had faked her martyrdom, and was living with her beloved in Keramzin. It was all stuff she trusted you with, and you’d known Tamar long enough to know that you could’ve trusted each other with anything. 

You told her of your life in Novyi Zem, your flat and the stray cat that’d appeared on your windowsil and wormed his way into your home and your heart. You told her about the boutique, about the people you worked with and the ones you’d befriended. You told her about the kind souls who worked the market stalls, the laughter that carried through the city no matter which street you walked down. You told her about the baked goods that you always bought from the bakery across the street from the building you lived in, about the fact that the cat you’d taken in liked to use the inside of your winter kefta as a pillow. 

And then, almost suddenly, you were at the Little Palace, stepping out of the coach and barely having time to look to your right and  register Genyas face before she was approaching, and suddenly, you were hugging her and laughing and you couldn’t believe you’d stayed out of Ravka for so long, all of the feelings you’d neglected finally taking their chance to resurface. You’d missed everyone terribly. 

Zoya gave you a grin as the servants took to your luggage, offered you an elbow as you walked back through the Little Palace doors and Tamar returned to her duties as a member of Nikolais guard.

“Tamar knew about it, you know,” she said. “Cancelled the hotel the same day you’d booked it. Knew about the boat, too. A few of our spies in Novyi Zem reported to her in the same week you’d bought the ticket.” 

“I didn’t take much convincing,” you laughed. “I would’ve found my way back here even if she hadn’t intervened. Missed it too much.” 

“Missed the golden haired, brown eyed king too much, you mean?” Genya asked with a teasing laugh. You snorted ungracefully, internally denied it right off the bat, but you knew yourself too well. 

Some part of you had hoped he’d go to you before you went to him. Some part of you hoped you would return to your flat and find those disgustingly glorious hazel eyes staring at you as the man you’d once thought you’d marry sat, drinking kvas at your dining room table. 

Some part of you had hoped he’d say that he’d never stopped loving you and another part of you hoped he’d ask you to return to Ravka. 

Some foolish part of you hoped he’d ask you that so that you could have the chance to refuse him. 

The part of you that was not a fool knew you’d say yes, if he ever showed up at your flat and asked you to go back to Ravka. You’d never stopped loving him, only wished that you had. 

“Perhaps,” you agreed apprehensively. Had he missed you too? Was the love that had once been requited but had gone two years unrequited still there for the man you’d loved? 

Zoya scoffed. “Perhaps, Y/N?”

“Most definitely,” you allowed yourself a sad grin. “I missed him, yes. But I’ve missed you guys, too. I’ve missed David, I’ve missed Tamar and Tolya and I’ve missed Ravka as a whole. Two years is too long to go without visiting. Never again.” 

Zoya sighed. “You’re hopeless,” she said.

Genya laughed, but agreed, and the three of you were at the room that’d once upon a time been yours. 

“Go on,” Zoya said, “The refund for the money spent on the hotel stay awaits.” 

You scoffed, but turned the doorknob, opened it, and stepped inside.

You scoffed again as you found the money in bills laying atop a silk pillowcase colored a pale blue. You counted it out, and there it was, the money you’d spent and twenty dollars on top of it.

When you glanced up to the window, eyes searching for a desk somewhere because you had promised your friends in Novyi Zem that you’d write, your heart began to race. 

There he was. The Ravkan king, the man you once called your beloved. He was standing in front of the window, looking out to the scenery that was displayed outside it. 

“The additional twenty coin is what I’ve taken to calling an inconvenience fee,” Nikolai said. “I’m sorry for the inconvenience. That’s what it’s for.”

“What inconvenience, Nik?” You asked, using the nickname you used for him in past, in times of love and times before your relationship had crumbled and you’d run away from the rubble. 

You heard Nikolais scoff, and when he turned around, you caught a smirk playing on his lips. He looked like he had when you’d last seen him, when you’d fallen asleep in the same bed as him and been gone from the city by the next morning, though it was impossible not to notice the inky black stains on his fingertips. Left over from his spat with the Darkling, perhaps, or something that the volcra-like beast left in its wake.

“This one,” he said. “My being in your room. My having gotten Tamar to do as she did. My asking that she cancel your hotel, that she have her spies alert her the moment that you were seen purchasing a boat ticket near Novyi Zems docks. I’ve missed you.” 

You laughed. “Tamar respects my choices too much,” you said. “Zoya told me it was her doing, but I’d known it couldn’t’ve been. She never wanted me to go but she respected it when I did. You, however? Every decision of yours is calculated. You let me go because you knew you could get me back, you handsome fool.”

“You have always been the right person for me,” Nikolai said. “But in the middle of a war, in the middle of watching a living saint in her quest to destroy the Fold, it was not the right time. In no universe would it ever have been. You were the right person for me then, and I imagine you’re the right person for me now. I think you think the same thing.” 

You could’ve cursed him out, kicked his shin, punched him the face for the boldness of his words. You wanted to, and judging by the way that Nikolai grinned but rested a hand on the sword sheathed to the right of his waist, he knew it. 

But he was right. Two years, you’d missed him. Two years, you’d hoped he’d come strolling through your flat and sweep you off your feet like he did the first time. Two years, you thought of him every single day and two years, every single day you debated leaving Novyi Zem behind and purchasing a boat ticket back to Ravka. 

“So what then, Nikolai?” You asked. “What of it? Am I supposed to drop everything of the life I have built in Novyi Zem, leave behind my friends, my job, the cat who wormed his way into my heart when he sat on my windowsil like he bloody well owned it? I want this. I want us. I’ve missed you more than you will ever be capable of comprehending, but I cannot stand the idea of just leaving it all behind.” 

“You did much the same when you left Ravka the first time,” Nikolai pointed out. “You seemed to have no problem with it then!”

“I wept from the moment I got on that boat to the moment I docked in Novyi Zem,” you cut. “I could not stop crying for my first week. I didn’t want to go, Nikolai. I just knew that I had to. I built a life from the one I left behind. I cannot bear the thought of leaving it in the dust. I did that once, thinking I’d be able to survive it. Never again.” 

With the words, you left the money from the hotel refund on your bed, left your room and walked down the hall. You didn’t know where you were heading, but you were sure you’d figure it out eventually.

-

in the hours later, Nikolai found you at the lake. You were sitting on the dock, pants rolled a good few inches, one foot lazing about in the water whilst your other leg was bent, one arm resting against your knee. You occasionally flit your wrist, watched as the waves picked up and rolled at your will.

“I shouldn’t’ve asked you to leave it all behind,” he said. “I wasn’t trying to. I was just trying--fuck. I don’t know.” 

“If you asked me to now, I would,” you said. 

The hours spent by the lake had been hours of drowning in your own thoughts. You could holiday to Novyi Zem in the summer. You loved it there after you grew into it, but you hated it at the same time.  

Never being able to use your abilities as a Tidemaker, never wearing the amplifier you’d claimed for your own, they got tiring. Refilling the kettle, filling the basin when you needed to wash dishes, summoning when it was time to water some near-dead plants in your garden, it grew monotonous. You missed summoning waves as tall as the boats Nikolai loved to captain. You missed summoning water to the samovars, drinking the tea that brewed in them as you talked to Tolya and laughed at Zoyas quips. 

“You would?” Nikolai asked. “So then our spat was for nothing?”

You laughed. “Not for nothing,” you said. “If we’d not argued, I never would’ve thought about staying past the six weeks I’m due to spend here. I would’ve enjoyed my time, cried the entire way back to Novyi Zem when I left. I missed you lot every single day. It would’ve gotten worse, and I wouldn’t’ve lasted two months.”

Nikolai laughed as he took off his shoes, rolled his pants up and dipped his feet into the water. He wrapped an arm around your shoulders, let his chin rest against one of them.

“I used to call you my intended back in the day,” he said. “When we were nineteen, I knew that I would marry you. Tolya teased me for it relentlessly.”

“Your intended, Lantsov?” You laughed. “Because you intended to marry me? I resent how sweet that is. If I’m remembering correctly, I used to call you my most beloved.” 

Nikolai smirked. “Oh, and I’m the sweet one?” 

“The most charming, by far.” 

Nikolai shrugged, nodding his agreement as he did. 

Silence passed. It felt familiar, and you realized that it was the same comfortable silence that used to settle over the two of you in the years prior. 

The one that settled as you stood side by side near the prow of whichever boat he’d taken to captaining that time around, the silence that would settle as he wrapped his arms around you and pressed a kiss to your cheek, whispering “I love you” with the same sureness that you saw in his smile. It was the same silence that reminded you that life would not always feel as it did, that there would be a life after the war with the Darkling. You would be reminded that the two of you could make it past that. 

As the silence passed, you realized that you were wrong about it. Your relationship had not survived the war, but that wasn’t to say it could not begin again in the rubble that the war had left behind. 

“May I kiss you?” Nikolai asked as the sunset draped itself across the Ravkan sky. You noticed that it’d become a swirl of shooting reds, pinks, oranges and purples, teal-ish hues and orange spots behind the clouds. 

You let yourself grin. “Please.” 

And then you were adjusting, and Nikolai was moving forward, and his lips were against yours. You were wrapping your arms around his shoulders when you tilted back, laughter on both ends breaking the kiss before it really had the chance to start. 

Nikolai kissed you as you lay on your sides, his lips feeling like something familiar, something that said “welcome home,” in the sweetest intones and with the brightest, warmest smile. It was like being greeted by a lover long lost, which you supposed he was, really.

The two of you pulled away, grinning and breathless as your gazes turned to the sky. 

“I love you. I love you and I have missed you terribly,” he took your hand, interlaced his fingers with yours and kissed the back of it. “Would you, Y/N L/N, my once upon a time intended, do me the honors of staying in Ravka for the duration of the summer and the fall? Would you let me prove myself worthy of taking your hand in marriage?”

You laughed. “When you say it like that, it becomes so utterly undeniable. Of course.” 

Nikolai grinned, asked if you’d like another kiss. When you said yes, he pressed his lips to yours and you kissed him back and you were overjoyed to be able to do it again. He pulled away and the two of you stayed there, laying on the dock, more content than not. 

-

The winter came, and you’d moved into the Grand Palace full time. You once again began to laugh with Genya and Zoya, took interest in David and Nadia’s work in the Materialki workrooms. 

When Os Alta went too far into a drought, you and Zoya worked together and summoned storms that lasted days. 

You and Tamar sparred daily, laughing and talking as you threw your punches. You sparred with Tolya, let him recite his sonnets and read some of your favorite poetry books in the library. 

When the day of your wedding came in early December, it was certainly one of the best days of your life. There was kvas, iced wine, more champagne than you’d ever seen in your lifetime. There was dancing, laughter, an airy kind of contentment having draped itself over the venue. 

Nikolai found himself grinning that night, as you ran your hands along the black-stained fingertips that the beast created by the Darkling left in its wake. His hair looked golden in the lamplight, eyes looking ethereal to match it. He wore his usual self assured, kind smile, a twinge of love draped across his grin.

“You’re no longer my intended,” he said. “You’re my spouse. The person whom I shall rule Ravka alongside.”

You found yourself grinning. “I can’t wait.” 

And then Nikolai was kissing you and you were laughing as you fell back into the bed, contentment and genuine joy flooding and overtaking your every sense. 

Nikolai was the one. Two years ago, you could have argued that he was not, that he may have been the right person but you’d never quite find the right time. There was a right time for your romance, and the middle of a war was not it.

However, you’d done as you hoped. You’d built something from the rubble, and the thing that you’d built would stay strong forevermore. 

[bokutosmochi]

TOUCHSTARVED ♡ GOJO SATORU

gojo satoru x gn!reader

ingredients? being born as the strongest, affection and tlc wasn't something he got from his elders. the moment he loses his best friend is when he learns to lean into the touch.

what's it? angst. reverse comfort, but mostly angst. a pinch of fluff if you squint

allergen warning/s? gojo's ooc, gojo's elders are icky, reader has a mostly good relationship with their parents (not described in detail),

sugar level? 1.6k

regulars? @hanayanetwork​ @tokyometronetwork​ @tahonet​

parlor's note? did somebody say gojo satoru birthday fic???

gojo's a little ooc, but i couldn't help it. this man has gone through so much and now we're gonna make him go through more-[gets slapped]

bon appetit!

ever since the clan elders found out he not only inherited the limitless, but also the six eyes cursed technique, they were quick to push him into learning the art of jujutsu. there was no time for strolls on the beach, play dates with the kids his age at the playground, or ice cream parlor visits with his parents whenever he got an A on his report card -- not that they necessarily cared about that, the fact that he will grow to be the strongest sorcerer in his era is enough. his daily routine was wake up at five thirty in the morning, do light training, shower and get ready for school, eat, go to school, train some more exactly thirty minutes after he gets home, do his homework - sometimes gojo clan members who didn't inherit an excellent technique would just do it for him as ordered by his grandfather -, eat dinner, then get a full eight hours of sleep. this lasted up until he graduated middle school. it was when he moved to tokyo metropolitan jujutsu technical high school did he finally gain some independence; there were no more groups of people following him around with the intent of doing everything for him, and long gone were the days of him getting treated as some sort of living weapon. or so he thought.

while the high school was most certainly a lot better than how he was treated at some, he still had this sick gut feeling like he was being used to keep people safe, and while he did certainly enjoy being named as the strongest, and while he undoubtedly enjoys deeming himself as the honored one, couldn't shake off this feeling. but then again, he sighed, at least he's able to be himself here.

you entered his life during his first year of high school as you also possessed cursed energy and was pushed by your parents to attend the school so you may be able to sharpen your skills to the fullest potential.

the first thing he noticed upon meeting you, ieiri shoko, and geto suguru, the other boy in your class was that you both came to the school via your own accord. sure, your parents wanted you to be jujutsu sorcerers, but in no way, shape, or form did your elders shove the idea down your throat the way his elders did with him. he realized upon reflection that it was most likely because you didn't possess the amount of power he did. while yes, he knew that you and suguru were forces to be reckoned with, he can exorcise curses with a snap of his fingers. it didn't compare. not having him fulfill his destiny of becoming the strongest would be a waste of his inborn abilities. but then, you, him, and geto came closer friends and when he confided in you his feelings about how his elders treated him, you looked at him with this sadness in your eyes when he thought that you would just hum along and agree, say that the way they treated him was the right thing to do given his amount of power.

it was the first time he was ever looked at with something resembling pity.

you lunged forward and wrapped your arms around him in a hug, stroking the hair at the back of his head, muttering things about how you'll bake him homemade cake for his birthday and take him out for ice cream every time a mission goes well.

it was the first time he subconsciously turned off his infinity and the first time he received this comforting type of affection. the only time people has shown affection for him was in the form of love confessions and boxes of chocolate during middle school from people he barely knew. but this is different, because he knew you and it felt so intimate.

thankfully because of how used he is to training, he didn't jolt from your grip nor did he stiffen from the strange feeling, however, he did not return your hug. instead, he opted to put two firm hands on your shoulders and pull you away from him and go back to his dorm room quietly which was quite uncharacteristic of the white haired sorcerer. if you were being honest with yourself, you expected some sort of teasing quip about how you couldn't take your hands off him or how you couldn't resist him; basically, the complete opposite of how he actually reacted.

both you and geto were shocked, left dumbfounded so you decided to ask gojo about his behavior the next day.

to no one's surprise, he brushed it off casually before bringing up something embarrassing that happened to you one time you were paired up with him for a certain mission.

he was good at taking the heat off of him and leading conversations away, that's for sure.

but then, in your second year of high school, gojo asked you out. you said yes, and from there, you started dating the white-haired sorcerer.

as your boyfriend, you found him much gentler to you at times, praising you a lot, and yes, also annoying you a lot more since he got much more comfortable in your presence as time went on. for some reason though, you noticed that he still didn't let himself get vulnerable with you and affectionate too for that matter. his kisses were short pecks to your forehead and his hugs were even shorter -- he'd bring you close to his body with one hand, pat you on the back, and that was it.

still, you gave him space and didn't push the issue, not wanting to make him uncomfortable. maybe affection just wasn't really his forte, and if that was the case, you didn't want him to change for you. besides, he shows you his love in other ways, like how he has all your orders in the different restaurants you frequented memorized, the way he shares his beloved sweet treats with you, and how you're the only one privileged to be on the receiving end of those three words he uttered that you absolute adore.

gojo thought he could hide his vulnerable side from you and was quite confident about that too, that was until you two entered your third year.

it wasn't until he heard about the things that the last person in your trio has done: geto suguru, former student of jujutsu tech massacred an entire village.

what really got to him was the fact that the signs were all there, but he, geto suguru's best friend, didn't pick up on them: geto's bad days becoming more frequent, him losing weight, the conversations they had about how jujutsu sorcerers seemed to live just to serve non-sorcerers and protect them from curses.

you were close to the long, black-haired sorcerer as well. he was your classmate, after all, but your bond with him wasn't nearly as tight-knit as the bond him and gojo formed . your chest tightened upon hearing the news so you could only imagine how your boyfriend was feeling. all you managed to do was bow curtly to yaga who broke the news to you as you departed, running to find gojo which was thankfully easy because of the trail of cursed energy he left. it led you to his dorm room which was locked.

you gently knocked on the door. "'toru, it's me. open up."

it was opened at once and in a blink of an eye, satoru was already sat on his bed, his head in his hands, and his elbows on his knees. he didn't speak and neither did you. after all, what can you say to someone who just lost their best friend? and especially in the way gojo did. you also noticed how geto's mood was off in the past few days prior to the incident occurring, so you were sure gojo did too. what do you tell someone who saw the signs, only too late? and what do you tell someone who has the unfortunate, heart-wrenching task of having to exorcise his best friend?

not exactly knowing the answer to those questions, you just hugged him tightly, pressing your chest against his and cradling his head with one of your hands, tucking it into the crook of your neck. you could feel his touch as light as a feather as if he was gauging something because this is not something he is familiar with, this closeness and this intimacy. it wasn't one of the things taught to him by his elders, including his parents. he finds the feeling so alien, but so good. and it's what pushes the sob from his mouth, the two overwhelming feelings of loss and gain toyed with his mind and his heart so much so that he wasn't able to control his emotions anymore. he sobbed into your neck, grabbing fistfuls of your shirt to pull you closer to him, silently pleading that you never let him go, not just in the physical aspect of things, but also to never lose to the demons inside you the way his best friend did.

and you don't. you stay the night in his dorm, letting him bury his face into your chest and cry until he falls asleep as much as you needed, as much as he was deprived.

i get: reblog

you get: blindfold

[jhynka]

- failures

genre: angst. hurt/no comfort

pairing: ryohei arisu x reader

synopsis: arisu comes to you to vent on how tired he is, you react in a way he could never imagine

cw: verbal abuse, mentions of death

an: writer's block, writer's block, writer's block!!!!!!!! i tried to post this last night but tumblr crashed on me like 10 times already. anyway sorry if this isn't as good as my other fics the writers block is just so bad. this was originally a request from @a-simp-20 but the of post crashed and it also deleted the req from my inbox (its prolly the new aesthetic I'm trying out). anyway happy reading!

“You know, if you just listened to me, you wouldn't have become so useless.”

He looked at you, fighting back tears. Out of all the people, you were supposed to be the one he felt the safest with. Not even Karube and Chota should’ve compared to you. He should have felt at ease with you as if he escaped every trouble he had in the world. He had just received his report card from school earlier this afternoon and wanted to vent out how tired and unmotivated he was for school. Expecting comfort, he received confrontation.

“I told you a billion times, it’s not that you're tired, it's because you're lazy. Arisu, look at me seriously. Do you really think you're ready to even be in a relationship if you can't even get your shit together?” You scolded him angrily, annoyed by his complaining. If he just even got off his stupid games for even an hour, the outcome would've been better than this you thought.

“Look, I'm sorry, okay? I didn't listen to you and now I'm complaining about it, can you please just calm down? You’re scaring me.” Ryohei pleaded, with the tears that finally ran down his cheeks. Hearing you call him by his last name broke you. He had told you how much he hated his last name, he hated it so much because it reminded him too much of his teachers talking about how great his brother was compared to him. Two different Arisu’s, one great and one left purposeless.

You looked down at him, sitting on his room floor looking straight back at you with tears. Even though you felt pity and guilt at the back of your mind, you knew that if he learned his lesson well enough, maybe his future would have some meaning for him. Ryohei wasted his life enough.

“You're such a waste! You have so much potential and you just go waste it all! Do you know how hard the people around you work while you're just sitting there with your stupid games?” You said to him, even more disappointed.

His tears fell harder, he shut his eyes and curled up. “I'm sorry. I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry…” He repeated shakily, not knowing what else to say.

“No matter how many more apologies you say Arisu, it will never fix the fact that you've wasted your life.” You said solemnly. “We're done, I can't stay with someone who doesn't know what to do with themselves.” You followed firmly, trying to walk out and leave his empty house.

“Wait!” He shouted, getting up and pulling your wrist to make you look back at him. “Please, Y/N, don't leave me, you promised you wouldn't. I’ll fix myself, I promise. Please don't leave me alone. Please I'm begging you, I’ll do it, ill fix everything, just please stay.” He begged, crying and sniffling in between sentences.

Flashbacks of the happy memories he had during your relationship spun across his head. He didn't want this to be the end, he didn't want to be blaming himself for another failure. You pulled away your wrist as he walked behind you, and chased you down the stairs begging, pleading for another chance. No matter how much he begged, however, that didn't stop you from slamming the front door on him, as you went back into your car and drove off.

Watching you drive away in the pouring rain, with his tears pouring harder made his world go silent. It was his mother's death all over again. He was the one to blame for you leaving and knew that he would never deserve you or another chance again.

[babytarttdoodoo]

hi! I've loved all the fic's you've posted so far! could I please make a request for something where Jamie gets officially diagnosed with ADHD and the team (and Roy and Keeley) are like 'well that makes sense' and are just so supportive through the process?

This was a doozy, anon, and I hope I’ve done it justice. Sorry Keeley didn’t get a lot of screentime - it ended up being a lot more introspective.

Thanks for the prompt!

(Prompt Fill Masterpost)

—

It wasn’t like no one had ever suggested it before.

Jamie, in fact, could clearly recall those cautious, gently probing questions Simon had ventured a few months after they’d first met. He was a teacher - a genuinely brilliant one, at that - and had recognised certain behaviours in the smart-mouthed teenager he was suddenly spending an inordinate amount of time around.

Unfortunately, Jamie had been a stubborn, prideful 16-year-old with little more than vicious dismissals for his mum’s cheery new boyfriend.

Years of school report cards and conversations at parents’ evenings echoed the same things.

If Jamie could just focus…

If he really applied himself…

If he tried a bit harder…

Exasperated teachers, tutors and coaches all leaving Jamie feeling stupid and frustrated with their attempts to guide him towards being better. Towards acting normal.

He had learned to live with the fact that some things were just harder for him than they seemed to be for everyone else. He set multiple alarms and reminders on his phone for everything he could think of. He wore jewellery and clothes that he could tug or twist or pull at without drawing too much attention to himself.

He learned to hold his tongue when he was overwhelmed and irritable for reasons he couldn’t define... and tried his best to apologise when he couldn’t keep the harsh words or knee-jerk reactions under control.

He coped.

It had finally taken a suggestion from Dr Sharon, a woman who had built up such an impressive amount of Jamie’s trust in a startlingly short amount of time that he often felt like she knew him better than he did himself, before he thought about doing anything more than that.

She had referred him to a specialist. Jamie made an appointment and answered the questions as best he could. Now, weeks later, it was official. He had ADHD.

Sitting with that information was strange. Deciding what to do with it was worse.

The first person he told was his mum. Obviously. She was reassuring and supportive, like he knew she would be, and even offered to take the train down that weekend to visit. Jamie declined, but he did have another request.

“Can you tell Simon?” he managed to choke out at the end of the call. “I think he’d like to know.”

The next conversation was a bit more complicated.

In amongst the information he’d received with his letter from the clinic were recommendations for ‘workplace accommodations’ - things that could help make ADHD easier to manage in a professional environment.

Most of it was completely irrelevant. Jamie didn’t need to sit in meetings all day or focus on a computer screen - he just needed to play football and that was the one thing he’d never had any problem with. But the advice (which Dr Sharon endorsed) was to discuss options with a manager.

Problem was, his manager was now technically Roy Fucking Kent.

And Jamie had absolutely no idea how to go about saying ‘hey, apparently my brain works differently’ to him in a way that wouldn’t end in either ridicule or dismissal.

(He was aware that he was perhaps being unfair to the man who was in many ways one of his closest friends these days. But there was a long and colourful history there that shaded every new interaction between them with the potential for chaos.)

Finally, driven half demented by days of overthinking it, he printed out a copy of his letter from the clinic and tossed it more or less directly at Roy’s head while he was filling out paperwork in his office. It mercifully landed on his desk, rather than smacking him in the face.

“Well, fuck you, too.” Roy deadpanned, fixing Jamie with a half-hearted glare and making no move to open the folded paper. “What’s that?”

“You could just fucking read it.” Jamie sulked, shoving his hands deep into the pouch of his hoodie. “‘S a letter, innit? From the doctors’.”

That had Roy frowning, what Jamie recognised as concern bunching up his brow. He picked up the document and unfolded it about as aggressively as one conceivably could. Kind of impressive, actually.

Jamie pinpointed the exact moment the information sank in and averted his gaze, locking in on the one part of the desk that wasn’t covered in files or wires or photo frames.

“Right.” Not bad, as far as reactions went. In his peripherals, Jamie saw Roy nod and readjust his hold. “... thank you. For, um, letting me know.”

“Yeah, well.” Jamie shrugged, plucking at the seams inside his pocket and studiously keeping his eyes trained on the same corner of Roy’s desk. “The leaflets and that they gave me said I should tell my boss. So. Now I have.”

“Right.” Roy repeated, agreeing like that made sense. He cleared his throat. “I know fuck all about it.”

“Join the club.”

That eased some of the weird tension that had been brewing and Roy huffed a laugh.

“Fair enough. Are you alright?”

Jamie gave that due consideration and finally dragged his stare back to Roy’s face before answering. “I think so. It’s weird, being told your brain is all…” He waved a hand around. “But it’s… nice. Knowing it’s not just me.”

Roy narrowed his eyes, assessing the truth of Jamie’s words, and seemed to accept what he said. “Is it alright if I put it in your file? Nate and Beard might have some input. Higgins should know too, probably.”

“Whatever.” Jamie chewed on his lower lip, mulling the implications over. “I don’t want to have to, like, say anything about it. But, yeah, you can tell whoever.” 

“That include the team?”

Jamie sucked in air through his teeth and pursed his mouth. Why that set his teeth on edge, he didn’t know. They were good lads - not always the most sensitive but they all (Jamie included) tried extremely hard to lift each other up when a difficult topic wormed its way into the safe space of their locker room.

This wasn’t Colin coming out or Sam fighting back against racist dickheads, though. It was just Jamie and his weird fucking brain.

“Dunno. I mean. Yeah. If you want.”

If Roy noticed his hesitation, he didn’t mention it.

Not a lot changed over the next few weeks. Jamie was still Jamie, after all. His quirks hadn’t disappeared overnight or become suddenly worse.

He coped. Just a bit differently. 

And so did the people around him.

A few days after his talk with Roy, Jamie was confronted by a smiling Keeley bearing a colourful gift bag: a present of cool rings that had spinning bands and mini gears he could fidget with, for ‘no reason’ other than she’d been thinking of him.

He spotted Sam with a book on the bus after a match, the title confusing him until he looked it up later. And then it cropped up again and again: on the shelf of Isaac’s locker, in the passenger seat of Colin’s car, sticking out of Jan’s bag.

Higgins approached him with a quiet and pleasantly confident assurance that the club’s management would do everything in their power to ensure Jamie was granted approval to use any medications that became necessary to his wellbeing.

The coaching team gave him a (mildly offensive) signal to use when he needed a minute, either to stick in his airpods and tune out, or to shuffle down to the boot room and breathe. More often than not, Dani would be waiting for him afterwards, beaming and ready to provide physical contact or launch into a full discussion on any inane topic he could think of.

Everyone was careful not to get outwardly annoyed when he asked them to repeat themselves or if he lost track of time. They let him talk when he went on a tangent. They were quick to forgive when he interrupted them or spoke without thinking.

They were… brilliant. It was brilliant.

Jamie carried on his therapy and worked hard to manage his symptoms and learn new behaviours. Despite Higgins’ promises, he decided against trying any of the medications offered to him, too concerned about weight loss and what (to his mind) felt like an unfair advantage on the pitch.

Diet and exercise became about more than just his job, they were further tools he could use to keep in control. He felt calmer most days and when he didn’t, Roy was there with extra workouts and an open door if he just needed a safe space.

It wasn’t perfect, of course it wasn't. Jamie still fixated on it when he fucked up and acted impulsively, screwing over his team or friends. He still let people down sometimes and struggled to understand how or why. He still needed to be held accountable. Shame at not being better still occasionally reared its head.

But that was okay.

Jamie was coping. And he wasn’t alone.

[codename-adler]

Sunburns! (@stabbyfoxandrew)

thank you @stabbyfoxandrew for allowing me to nerd out <3

Adler’s PiPs ~ Project: Sunburns

if my memory doesn't fail me (which it ALWAYS does), i believe the start of PiP: Sunburns goes back two years, with this little piece i wrote. basically i craved violence and thus the idea of feral Jeremy was born. i know fanon is in love with the Trojans getting their first red card in defense of Jean, and for Jeremy to get it, but i wanted more. as much as Jeremy would allow Jean to find the light, i wanted Jeremy to be allowed to tap into his darkness. NOT THAT JEAN MAKES HIM GO MORALLY GRAY. Jean does not ask for anything. it's more like a mama-bear instinct? at least that's what Jeremy tells himself at first. he'll come to realize, on his own and as Laila and Alvarez point it out to him, that it's definitely more than that.

because the Trojans cannot be as 'damaged' as the Foxes, per their status, the uni they play for, the big team they have, etc., i still couldn't resist giving the characters some touch of angst, because that's what i do, duh. difference is, Trojans have more resources, sympathy and means to deal with their shit. or they're just better at repressing shit, i.e. Jeremy Knox. that's why i say Jean's presence and being allow Jeremy to let go of the obsessive control he has over his person. while Jean never asked for anything from his new captain, and though he isn't impressed by Jeremy jumping to his defense, it sort of... comforts him, to see that Captain Sunshine isn't as peachy and sunny as he would like people to believe. that this little bit of darkness in him means Jean won't be tainting him with his own dark presence. that Jeremy can understand things, Jean's things. Jean is not scared. it is admittedly a tiny bit weird to witness rage not aimed at himself, but for himself. that he is real, and alive, and in fact so real and alive that people, Jeremy, are actively fighting for him to stay and live his life to the fullest.

but what is the fic about, Adler? well: it's a 5 + 1 thing format. of course, 5 times Jeremy went feral for Jean, and 1 time... eh, haven't figured that one out yet.

1 time Jean went feral for Jeremy? 1 time Jeremy didn't need to because Jean handled it himself? 1 time Jeremy went soft for Jean? 1 time the Trojans went feral for Jean? or 1 time Jean went feral for the Trojans? 1 time Jean went feral FOR HIMSELF? 1 time Jean realizes he truly is a Trojan? 1 time the Trojans realize Jean really is one of them now? i! don't! know!

i do have the 5 times where feral Jeremy lashed out, and i hope these will allow you to glimpse at just how serious i am about Jeremy going apeshit:

0.5 The OG incident that pushes Jeremy to do a thorough background check of every Raven (this fic is also me pushing my hacker!Jeremy agenda)

1 Jeremy goes after a Raven (classic)

2 Jeremy goes after a Trojan stepping out of line

3 Jeremy goes after a reporter, privately and publicly

4 Jeremy goes after a Fox [redacted]

5 Jeremy goes after Ichirou & the Moriyamas

as for the title, the draft remains titled "Sunburns" because it's the shortest version of all the titles i'm considering, all inspired by the idea that being the sun doesn't mean just 'light'. the sun is a ball of burning fire. it was upon playing around with that that i stumbled upon this PERFECT quote by Ilona Andrews (i have no idea what book this is from tho):

He bared his teeth in a happy feral grin. My own personal psycho.

that's what i got for now! i'll post updates when i start writing from the outline i have.

coming soon in an Ao3 near you!

if there's a project of mine you'd like to know more about, head over to the pinned post on my blog titled "Adler's WiPs" !

<>

special thank you to my dear Ukamushu who was the first to know about this project and who let me share my thoughts and helped me in return with hers. i love you forever 🤍

[poledancingdinos]

Hostile Territory - Chapter 5

Pairing: Captain Syverson x OFC (Leah Coleman)

Word count: 1.5K

Warnings: Bullying, hazing

Catch up: Series Masterlist

Taglist:  @summersong69 @identity2212 @liecastillo @amberangel112 @utterlyhopeful-fics @marantha​ @kebabgirl67 @littleone65 @omgkatinka @luclittlepond @elizabetharegina @enchantedbytomandhenry @narnianaos @geralts-yenn @peaches1958 @avengersfan25 @sillyrabbit81

Masterlist

Day 58

A betting pool. They organized a fucking betting pool to guess when Leah was going to leave Warhorse. Sy had seen a lot of hazing in his day but this was a new low. This went far beyond “harmless” pranks or humiliating initiations. The worst he’d ever seen was when a couple of guys pulled a soldier out of bed and took him up on a helicopter ride. The guy had been half naked, blindfolded and hands were zip tied behind his back. They told him to jump and when he didn’t, they pushed him out. They’d only been hovering a few feet above the ground but the fear that man had felt was as real as any. The poor guy had literally shat himself and to this day they still called him B-29.

He couldn’t believe that he hadn’t heard even a whisper of that bet going around. It just went to show the lengths the boys had gone to in order to hide what they were doing. Even Pepps knew nothing about it, it was Machmoud who’d let it slip while they were playing cards. It didn’t take long after that to figure out who was behind it all.

As the highest ranking officer on base, he had the pleasure—no, the responsibility—of choosing their punishment. Punishment being the operative word here, not revenge. He had to be fair. He had to treat the infraction as if it had happened to any other soldier. Even if it hadn’t.

What made him more of a misogynist: giving too harsh a punishment to send a message that he wouldn’t tolerate Leah being singled out for being a woman or brushing it off as he would tend to do when the guys picked on each other?

Or maybe it was the fact that he really wanted to put his fist through Nielsen’s face for hurting Leah. Not for bullying his subordinate, for hurting Leah.

Nielsen, despite being an ass, had an exemplary disciplinary record and was a highly skilled soldier. It would ruffle a lot of feathers if he were discharged for a first time offense, even if Sy had no doubt that any previous offenses had simply not been officially recorded. Nielsen’s father was a well respected general which made everything infinitely more tedious. Sy hated the politics of it all but if he had to put his career in peril to send a message then so be it.

Connors was a different story. He was always a trouble maker and it showed heavily in his record but most of his past offenses were representative of a punk kid in need of discipline rather than of him being malicious. It would do him and the others some good to report to a different team leader for a while.

Sy had had to put his ongoing internal conflict aside to lead Alpha for the op. He’d decided it was best to place Nielsen’s team in Bravo under Pepps’ command. That way, Sy didn’t give the men any direct commands and there was no risk of him letting his personal feelings influence his leadership.

During the debriefing, Sy fought the urge to seek Leah in the crowd of exhausted soldiers. Even so, his eyes were inevitably drawn to her at the back of the room. She looked better than he had earlier in the week, but she still showed signs of poor sleep.

If Sy had to guess, he’d say that she’d lost weight since her arrival. She worked herself too damn hard and he’d noticed that lately she didn’t always eat at chow. Probably because she was under so much stress. There was no doubt in his mind that she knew what was going on. That fact was confirmed by her reaction in the debriefing. It made Sy wonder how long ago she’d found out and just how long it had all been happening in the first place.

It took everything in him not to run after her when she fled the room, leaving her rifle and helmet forgotten on the table. It was a relief, at least in part, when her team chased after her. He was glad she had someone in her corner, even if that someone couldn’t be him.

It was best if he kept his distance anyway. It was bad enough that the little spitfire had piqued his interest from the moment she walked through that gate but that unintentionally brazen comment about seeing her naked definitely had his thoughts pushing the boundaries of professionalism.

Sy waited until the chow hall had cleared before following everyone out. He’d intended to go up to his room and change but he was forced to stop when Reynolds called his name. The young medic gave him a brief rundown of the injuries and listed a number of supplies that needed their stocks replenished. Not for the first time that day, Sy wished he were not the man in charge. He was not in the mood to deal with inventory and supply orders.

Movement coming from the right caught Sy’s attention. He lifted his head, locking eyes with Leah who stopped halfway up the stairs. He straightened, alarmed by the redness of Leah’s eyes and the tear stains running down her cheek. He didn’t get the chance to ask questions, nor did he really need to since Nielsen and Connors entered the building a few seconds after Leah and Rohan.

It was no big surprise when Nielsen approached Sy, requesting to speak in his office.

“Pepps!” Sy called as he spotted the other man down the hall. Since it seemed that Nielsen had decided to assume responsibility on his own, it was best if there was an impartial witness to their meeting in case the younger man decided to involve his father.

He waited by the door, finally closing it behind Pepps. He seemed to understand that he was only meant to be a witness to the meeting and silently stood by Sy’s side as the Captain sat at his desk.

“What can I do for you Sergeant?” It was a stupid question since they all knew exactly why he was there but Sy needed to wait until he admitted it.

The man stood at attention, looking straight ahead but he didn’t appear worried in the least.

“I was responsible for taking the bets on Coleman’s time at Warhorse.”

Sy almost scoffed. That was all he had to say? Not even a half assed apology or acknowledgement that what he did was wrong?

“Who kept track of the bets?”

“I believe Specialist Molson currently has the list,” he admitted after some hesitation. “But it was my idea and my men shouldn’t be punished for following my lead.”

Sy wasn’t sure if he was trying to be noble or if Nielsen was stepping up because he thought that Sy wouldn’t have the balls to punish him. Either way, he was not going to like what came next.

“Then I have no choice but to demote you. Corporal Nielsen, you and your team will now report to Sergeant Fisher. Maybe he’ll be able to teach you a thing or two about how to be a good leader. You and your men will produce written apologies to Corporal Coleman and you are all on desk duty for fifteen days.” Nielsen’s nostrils fared as Sy emphasized Leah’s newly acquired rank. “You’re dismissed.”

Nielsen kept quiet as he saluted, turning to leave the office.

“And Corporal?” The man paused with his hand on the door handle. “I want that list on my desk by tomorrow. The full list.”

“Yes, Sir,” he ground out, yanking the door open and storming down the hall.

“You know you can kiss your career goodbye, right?” Sy’s right hand man said, moving to the front of the desk and dropping into an empty chair.

The Captain sighed, leaning his elbows on the desk and rubbing his face with his hands.

“He’s still an NCO which is more than he deserves.”

“I don’t disagree but, Sy, your career, it’s…”

“It’s all I have,” Sy finished. He’d said it himself numerous times before. Strip him of his rank and what did Sy have left? It often felt like he had no identity of his own.

Leaning back in his chair, Sy looked up at the ceiling. “I can’t let that shit slide, man. And if I get reprimanded for doin’ what’s right then… maybe that’ll be a sign that it’s just my time.”

“Yeah right. What are you going to do? I don’t think you’d make a very good housewife. You don’t have the legs to pull off those little French maid uniforms.”

That remark managed to put a sad smile on Sy’s face. Surely those couldn’t be his only two options. Although the only reason he even had a college degree in the first place was to become an officer. He didn’t even know what the fuck he could do with a communications degree from an online college. He’d picked that degree because, of the few programs he could get into with his less than stellar high school performance, that one seemed the least objectionable.

They were getting ahead of themselves. For all they knew, Nielsen would bite his tongue and accept his demotion.

Yeah, a man could dream.

“If it comes to that, I’ll figure it out.”

Chapter 6

[llondonfog]

Book 7 Spoilers but consider: If potion!au somehow took place after book 7, MC would definitely be helping rescue Silver. He saved them in the dream world so I can’t imagine MC wouldn’t be at least a little loyal to him. Also they’ve experienced brainwashing courtesy of Jamil, I doubt they’d let anyone suffer under that, let alone someone they care for. With Silver kidnapped their friend, Malleus, and his guards are miserable.

And really, after book 7 no one would expect the magicless human to be helping the Briar Prince and the Dread General. MC can play the kidnapped by fae and treated terribly card thanks to Crowley and OB!Malleus, which may soften Andrei to them slightly. Who better to keep Silver away from his family than a poor child who suffered the same fate? This allows MC to befriend Silver. Meanwhile MC is reporting everything they see back to Diasomnia, and also trying to subtly jog Silver’s memory. If Andrei catches on it would look really bad for him to attack the kidnapped, defenseless friend of ‘his’ ward. In the meantime, poor Silver is confused about why a talking mouse is fretting over him in his dreams, and why that mouse FaceTimes his magicless friend through a mirror.

IDK. I just want MC to be able to thank Silver for protecting Grim and them from Malleus and his Lotus-Eater machine. I blame this brain rot on your delicious angst and that promotional line where Silver says he feels as though he has met the MC before.

TLDR: Silver is best boy so Prefect joins the save Silver team and uses their magiclessness to help him.

Thank you for listening to my ramblings, and have a great day!

(ok first things first, thank you so much for enjoying my little au??? so much so that you took the time to provide all of these wonderful thoughts and divergent possibilities??? i was so giddy when i saw this come in while i was on my work trip this week, i couldn't wait to answer it <3)

oh my goodness— i've never really considered a 'timeline' for when the potion!au would take place, but the way it would be even more heartbreaking after the events of chapter 7, ESPECIALLY with these hints that are being built up about silver's ancestors and their potential relation to lilia and malleus' own unhappy pasts??? could you imagine how raw it would feel to have silver be stolen away from them by the guards of his royal family, after he had sacrificed and suffered through so much just to bring the diasomnia family back together?? how fresh the memories of loss must be for malleus and lilia regarding the humans that they were fighting against in briar valley and the devastation and destruction they caused both to their land and to the royal family— now they must contend with the fact that silver is possibly descended from that same family, and they've all of a sudden emerged to whisk him away from the very fae that love him for who he is, not what he represents? aaaaaaaaaaaaaaa

but to your point about MC!!!! so you may notice that my fics don't really address the mc/yuu, and that's mainly because i really don't feel personally involved when i play the game, i'm mostly invested for the characters— but you bring up an excellent perspective that i've never considered! based on their journey together so far in ch7 and what we can expect to continue, i definitely think that yuu grows very close and extremely fond of silver, especially once they understand his relationship to the diasomnia clan and being part of how that plays out in real time over lilia's decision to leave their side. and i fully agree that they'd probably be one of the first to catch on to what's happened to silver, that something about him has been deliberately altered by an external force, because there's simply no way he'd abandon his family after all that he went through to protect them.

i love the idea of yuu using andrei's perception of the situation against him in order to regain silver's trust and confidence— it's beginning to play out so very similarly to how silver had to wake everyone up in the dreamworld, only this time, the tables have been drastically turned. and oh, how it hurts yuu to see him this way, to know how desperate and impassioned he was to save his father and sebek from such similar fates in malleus' dreamworld. they would certainly do anything and everything in their power to jog his memory, even trying their best to convince him to stop taking the potion that's suppressing his true memories from returning.

silver truly is Best Boy and he really does deserve a true friend in yuu after ch7 is over— who would have guessed that they would face such trials together, and bond as two humans out of place and time, struggling to realize their role in the world that they've found themselves in?

[barefoot-inthewildestwinter]

Make your tea and your toast (part 4)

A/N: Hiii! I'm so sorry for the long (long) gap! I fell victim to early-onset fanfiction writer's curse and life, but I am trying to get back into writing and I enjoy reading other fics so much! Please let me know what you think / any feedback is much appreciated! Thank you!!!

Title: Make your tea and your toast

Summary: If he played his cards close to his chest, she never picked hers up. Emily's past slowly catches up to her and he realizes just how little he knows about her.

Word count: 4.0k

Ratings: Mature, eventually

Warnings: Mentions of child abuse, SA, abortion, pregnancy and teen pregnancy, and violence.

Read below or on AO3

February, 2007

Alexandria, VA

He wishes he could be grateful to be home early with his son. To be able to sit and play with him, eat dinner, and read him to bed. To talk to him before he’s fast asleep under his covers in his space pajamas, something he rarely gets the chance to do. And he is grateful, but he is also skating on thin ice with his wife. Haley’s ability to act as if they’re happier than they’ve ever been was wearing thin and he can’t fault her for it. 

He stays in the room for a few minutes after Jack dozes off before helping Haley clear the dinner table. He studies her as she carefully sets each item into the dishwasher, as if the angle of each spoon going into the wash would dictate the difference between a good or bad day for them. 

She looks up from the kitchen sink, “How was your day really?” Her words accompanied by a small smile, knowing the report he gave to Jack was likely less than accurate.

“It was alright,” he concedes, walking up behind her to pull her into him. “I’m glad to be home. I can’t remember the last time we had dinner with Jack, together.” She sighs and tucks her chin into her shoulder. 

“It’s nice to have you here. Have you given any thought to what I said last week?” He pauses for a moment, a pang of guilt hitting him and he can’t be sure which suggestion she’s referring to. 

In the past month, they’d floated the idea of having another baby, him moving out, taking some time off from work, and quitting altogether. When he really thinks through all of the dramatic turns their relationship had taken since Jack was born it makes his head spin. 

“Haley,” he chides, lowering his voice, though they’re far from Jack’s earshot. “You know that I’m trying to do what’s best. For us, for our family, for the team.” She nods, concealing the subtle eye roll she’s perfected over the last twenty years. He feels himself pushing her too far and sighs. He’s faced predators in a crowded courtroom, he knows how to get into the minds of serial killers and negotiate hostage situations, but he can’t find the words to make his wife feel better. “What about counseling?”

She steps away, removing herself from his embrace but not turning to face him. “What about it?”

He tries to test the waters. “It’s something we could try, if you’d like.” He takes her hand in both of his and traces the outline. 

“I don't need another shrink, Aaron.” The strain in her voice is not yet overpowering. 

He nods, knowing that she’s referring to the behavioral analysis skills he doesn’t leave at the office. “I know, I know. It would be for us.” He does his best to form each word softer than the last. 

Haley lifts her face to really look at him. He wonders if she still recognizes him when she does. If he’s still the same boy she met in drama club her junior year of high school to her. Sometimes, he’s not sure that he is. 

“Do you have something you can’t say to me? You won’t talk to your wife, but you'll talk to a therapist?”

He shakes his head, No. In hindsight, he’d anticipated some push back, knowing it was risky but unsure of what else to try. “We need to be able to actually talk, and we can’t, not like this. It might be helpful. I spoke to a colleague-” He digs in his pocket, fishing out a neon blue sticky note. 

“Broadcasting your marital issues at work, nice.” He shoots her a look and he knows she doesn’t expect him to dignify that with a response. “Sorry.”

“He gave me the name of a counselor.” He hands her the note with the name and number. “Just tell me you’ll at least consider it.” She lowers her chin and nods and he presses a kiss into her hair. “Thank you.”

They stay right there in the kitchen and he feels his grip on her tighten. It isn’t long before the ringing interrupts them and Haley picks the kitchen landline up instinctively. “Oh, hi, Jennifer.” A deep sigh escapes her mouth. “I’m fine, thank you. Yes, he is right here, I’ll put him on.” She places the phone in his palm and sighs heavily, letting out the tension from their conversation.

He conjures her a frown before taking the call. “Hotchner.” 

On the other end he is greeted by JJ’s familiar apologetic tone. “Hey, Hotch. It’s JJ. I’m sorry to be calling so late, but the B-team is away on mandatories all month and we just got an urgent call from Houston. I’ve already started preparing a briefing.”

“No, it’s alright. I’ll be right in. Can you inform the others?”

She doesn’t waste time. “I’ve notified everyone else. They’re on their way in. I couldn’t get through to Emily though. I’m hoping she saw the call and knew what was coming.” 

“Okay, thank you, JJ. I’ll see you soon.” He hangs up, handing the phone back to Haley. He slips on a jacket and his shoes, backtracking into the kitchen to kiss Haley goodbye. I’m sorry, he tells her when their eyes meet. 

“Go on.”

He’s on the road a minute later, staring at the oversaturated red light above him. His hand digging around his ready bag in the passenger seat, he grabs his cell. For a split second, he contemplates calling Prentiss. The worry that something truly terrible had happened to her clouded his subconscious. It really wasn’t like her to miss a phone call from work, especially one from JJ. He resigns, deciding that he’ll only call if she doesn’t show at the office after the others get there and returns his right hand to the wheel.

He’s the first to arrive. As he walks through the glass doors, he’s relieved to see her desk light on amid absolute darkness across the floor. He’s even more relieved to see her sit down through his window a few minutes later while he’s unpacking his bag. He lets out a small laugh, shaking his head in disbelief. “Agent Prentiss,” he calls halfway across the room, an attempt to not startle her. “Burning the candle at both ends, are we?”

Her warm black hair spills in gentle waves across her shoulders as she turns to face him and he’s pulled closer. 

“Oh. No, sir.” The orange from the light shines across her pale complexion. Her expression is blank, barely conceding a flustered blush from being caught in the office this late. “I was just finishing the paperwork from last week. I’d been waiting for the New York coroner's office to fax over a report.”

With no open case, he had been in such a hurry to leave at 5:00, he hadn’t considered the possibility that anyone would want to stay. 

“I was about to call it quits when JJ brought you this.” She taps the heap of manila files on her desk with the tip of the pen in her hand. “You’d already gone home and I thought I’d grant you a reprieve.” He sighs, letting a grateful grin take over his lips.  She doesn’t see it. “Hey, did you know that Morgan hasn’t been filling out his tacticals? I went back three weeks just to be sure and nothing.”

He bites his tongue  and furrows his brow, attempting to prevent a much larger smile from crossing his face, and shrugs. He doesn’t know how it's possible for her to radiate so much warmth and energy at this hour. “He never does, that’s not anything new.”

She pauses and stares at him, tilting her head to the side, exposing the pale skin on her neck. He expects her to push him further, ask why he’s allowing a member of his team to opt out of his responsibilities. She doesn’t, she just looks at him with her wide eyes and cracks a smile. “What are you doing back here anyway?”

He recalls thoughts he’d had on the drive in. “We’ve got a case. Houston.” Her demeanor falls with her head. “The rest of the team should be in soon. JJ mentioned that she had tried to reach you.” He gives her a moment to summon a reply as to why she hadn’t answered, but she provides none. 

“I’ll brew a fresh pot of coffee.” She carries her mug over to the kitchen and he heads up to the conference room to prepare.

JJ’s briefing proved that this would likely be a tough case. A needle in a haystack of crimes in the Houston area. He’s thankful his team doesn’t bear any resentment at being called in on what was supposed to be their weekend off as they pile onto the plane. They begin their analysis of the unsub once everyone is settled on the tan leather seats. As JJ fields questions about the case, he notices a lack of the hesitation in her voice that had followed her home from Georgia just weeks before. He’d been keeping a watchful eye on her as a precaution. She’d agreed to meet with the team’s psychologist with little pushback and had shied away from getting further involved in their cases. She was back to laughing at Morgan’s latest trysts and teasing Reid for his reactions. 

Though JJ may have fallen back to being lower on his list of concerns, Reid was certainly cementing his place at the top of it. His hotheaded response to Prentiss’ offer of help hadn’t been completely out of character, but it raised flags. Reid often liked to work alone on their assignments, choosing a specific task to dive into. Though, even he would usually welcome help from one of them for a geographic profile in such a large region. He had also thought the two of them to be friendly, especially so after the rest of the team had warmed up to her. 

Prentiss didn’t appear offended by his outburst. Instead, she wore a look of concern that tells him that she will carry it beyond this moment. He’s drowned out Morgan and JJ’s back and forth. In his periphery, he watches as she pauses and then licks her lower lip and breathes out slowly. He can tell she doesn’t think anyone is still staring at her. She’s hiding, looking down and away to avoid locking gazes with anyone. Behind slow sips of jet coffee he hopes pairing her with Reid wouldn’t come back to bite him. The last thing he needed was for there to be more tension among them going into this case.

He dispatches Gideon and Morgan to the latest scene, the rest of them heading for the local station. A detective guides them into a conference room, granting them a little privacy from the rest of the unit. They settle in, adjusting to the chaos of construction work outside. Prentiss and Reid start to build the geographic profile right away. JJ steps out to meet with her contacts and assess the media coverage. He knows he should join her, but he’s anxious to leave Prentiss to fend for herself with Reid. He observes her attempts at walking on eggshells around him while also communicating her thoughts. He sees the way her eyes anticipate any negative response he may give her. By the time he gets an update from Morgan, he feels comfortable leaving the room for a few minutes to take the call. 

A few minutes after he re-enters, JJ returns holding a large plate. “One of the detective's wives made us cookies,” she explains. 

“Wow, homemade cookies?” To his surprise, Prentiss had snapped out of her focus, the crease between her eyebrows washing away  as she jumped up to meet JJ by the door. She quickly grabbed one before gingerly returning to her perch on the table. He feels his childish grin widen after witnessing her’s. She turns away before she can catch him, leaving him staring at the back of her hair.. 

“Yeah, I guess that's what they mean by Southern hospitality.” They share a shaky laugh at the twang in JJ’s voice. JJ lets her arm fall slightly, giving Reid a chance to grab a cookie off of the plate as well before she sets it down on the conference table. 

“What are you saying?” he asks. 

Emily shouts playfully over the loudening construction work, “Southern hospitality.” Reid doesn’t find it funny. He reiterates his complaints about the noise as they continue on the profile. When Morgan and Gideon join them, they float the idea that the unsub is homeless. Gideon suggests Prentiss go with Reid to local shelters to see if anyone recognizes some of the behaviors they’ve seen. Prentiss hesitates, asking for Reid’s approval of the plan before they break off from the group. He finds the move uncharacteristic of her, but when Reid shows no animosity, he drops it.  

It’s a few hours before they return. When they do, he’s on the phone debriefing with Morgan. He watches as Reid bursts into the precinct, sharing the information he’d obtained from the shelter. Prentiss is just steps behind him, matching the intensity of his stride. He briefly catches her flashing a glare and he tries to provide her with a sympathetic look but she’s already averted her eyes. She passes by him and he catches himself following her side profile as she walks down the hall. Her lower lip pinned between her teeth, the waves of her hair bouncing over her shoulders as she moves. It wouldn’t take a profiler to see that he was right to be concerned about this pairing. 

“Good, thanks.” He ends the call, tucking his cell into the pocket of his suit jacket. 

He widens his eyes trying to catch her attention and study her expression. Her face is pale and calm but her eyes are still teeming with tension. Do you need to talk about this? he pushes. 

Later. Not now, she responds. He nods and they follow Reid back into the conference room. 

They pour over records and the police reports for hours. Reid making progress with small breakthroughs on the geographic context profile. Prentiss, barely speaking other than to pose an occasional question, scrawling details across the whiteboard. JJ dipping in and out of the room, trying to extinguish the fires set by local police that don’t know better. Morgan and Gideon dropping in occasionally with new information they’ve gotten from the field. 

He’s about to suggest that they take a short break, arguing that fresh air and a solid meal would do them good. Before he can break the silence, one of the uniformed officers walks into the room. Hotch can tell that this man was unprepared for the scene he was sent into. He watches as the man’s eyes dart around the room, unable to lock eyes with any of them, something new and important trapped in the back of his throat. After a beat, he opens his mouth, “I’m sorry, uh- I was supposed to come and get-” He turns to face him and he nods in understanding, shooting a look to Prentiss, telling her to proceed with the profile with caution, before ushering the young officer out to the hallway. 

It seemed the privacy did not do much to calm the officer and Hotch could barely make out the words under his whispers. “What is it?” 

He’s aware he’s coming across harsh. But time was valuable. And they had made minimal progress. He also knows the answer to his question, but he asks it anyway. Another victim, this time a survivor. He nods along to the dull pattern of words. “Another victim just stumbled into the precinct, hispanic male, 40s. He was taking his trash out and the Unsub got to him in the alleyway. Our officers are transporting him to the hospital now for evaluation.” He nods, ready to inform his team and dispatch someone to follow them to the hospital. 

“He has a young daughter, the victim. She witnessed the attack. She’s here alone, we’re trying to contact another relative.” He turns back around. “She’s with a social worker now but she’s pretty shaken up. The social worker thinks it’d be best if we talk to her in Spanish. I’m not exactly a native speaker.”

“Alright. I’ll take care of it.” He finds himself nodding again, fatigue hanging around his shoulders. He confirms the girl is still in the precinct before proceeding. 

In the conference room, he finds them all right where he left them, looking up at him when he re-enters. “We have another victim.” Morgan jumps up immediately, grabbing his jacket, ready to leave for the scene. “He’s alive. Male, hispanic, mid 40s. On route to the hospital now.” 

He can see it clearly. The awkward relief shows up on all of their faces. It’s short lived. Morgan sinks slowly back down into his chair on the edge of the room. Reid sits stoic, still processing the things they will be able to use now to inform the profile. “He has a young daughter, she came in with him. The social worker suggested that she may be more comfortable if someone spoke to her in Spanish.” He captures her gaze momentarily before continuing, “Prentiss, you’re fluent, right?” He keeps his eyes locked with her. 

After a beat, she nods with a hint of surprise, “Yes, sir.”

“Alright, you and I will conduct the interview. The rest of you… Morgan, you and Gideon head to the hospital and see what you can get from the victim. Reid, will you be alright to continue on the profile from here alone until we’re done?” He waits for Reid to reply before making sure JJ will stay close to him in their absence. 

They find a quiet area in the precinct. He watches the steadiness in her lips as she introduces herself and him to the child.  He’s only a little impressed with how naturally she’s able to shift her body language from case exhaustion to something warm and comforting. And he notices a crack of a smile forming when she feels Maria lower her guard. The half-breath she lets slip from her lips when she leans back into her.

“Is my papa going to be okay?”

“Yes,” he nods confidently. Looking up from the girl to Emily he tells her to continue on. 

“Maria, could you answer a few questions for us? It would really help us find the bad guy.” Her voice is low and sweet and gentle. A side of her that he hadn’t seen yet, even if it was for a case, it was still lovely nonetheless. “Did he say anything to your papa?”

Maria shakes her head, “No.”

Emily nods in response, her thumb stays rubbing small circles on the girl’s arm. “What were you and your papa doing before the bad guy came?” 

“Papa took out the garbage. And then he jumped out. And he hit my papa. I was screaming at him. Don't hurt my papa!” Maria squirms in her seat, the events still raw in her mind. Emily gives her an encouraging smile and squeezes her shoulder lightly. “I thought he was going to hit me, too, but then he stopped. And he looked at me funny.”

“What do you mean by funny?”

Maria tells them that the man looked sad and had asked her why she was crying before she and her father were able to run away. 

He tries to match her tone, lowering his voice the way he does for Jack’s bedtime stories. “Maria, what you did was very brave. Can you help us with one more thing? Can you tell us what the man looked like?” 

He feels a sense of pride when Maria looks up at Emily for approval. “He was white and tall and dirty. And he had a ring like yours.”

He feels the metal freeze as he twists it around his finger and holds his hand out for Maria to see. “Like that?”

She nods enthusiastically, “I remember his ring.”

They both give her a large grin before their eyes meet again. You understand what this means right? she asks him, her bottom lip between her teeth. 

“Abuela!” Maria’s cries bring them back and she leaps across the room.

Prentiss rises soon after, straightening out her jacket. “Do you mind if I speak with her grandmother for a moment?” 

“Not at all, I’m just going to go check on Reid.” He detects a hint of hesitation from her but she’s gone before he can bring it up. 

They learn that the unsub is a war veteran suffering from extreme PTSD. They learn his mindset, not from his wife, but from his colleague who had known his friend was suffering and had done nothing to help him. In the end, they had failed him as well.

After the case was officially closed, they all sulked back to the hotel. It would be their first real night of sleep in days, but he doubted that any of them would be getting more than four hours. Reid had been dragged down to the hotel restaurant by Morgan and JJ, but he finds her in the hallway outside of their rooms. He was leaving a goodnight voicemail for Jack and Haley, letting them know that he would be home tomorrow afternoon. She catches the end of his message as she floats down the hall, jacket folded across her arms. 

“Hey.”

“Hi.” She’s wearing a light smile but something about it feels unsettling. 

“You were great with Maria,” he tells her. Her smile deepens as she lets out an embarrassed sigh. “Truly, I don’t think we could have gotten that information any other way.” 

Her eyes close for a second as she presses her lips back together. “Thank you, sir.” Her hair is still tied back, but she’d changed back into her brown top. Sleeves pushed up to her elbows, pale collarbones on display.

He studies her briefly, looking for the source of her frustrations. “Is there something going on between you and Reid?” He clarifies when she looks up at him, eyes narrowed. “Anything I should know about?” He’s giving her a chance to tell him something he already suspects but when she gives him nothing he pushes further. “You looked rather upset when you came back from the shelter.”

She lets out a deep breath from her nose and nods once. “No, no. I think I’m just tired.” Shaking her head, moving towards the room she’ll be sharing with JJ. As she passes by him, he smells the cigarettes, one or two, on her breath. “Goodnight, Hotch.”

He lowers his voice like he’d done earlier. “Emily, do you want to talk about it?” He’s taking a leap, and he knows she’s taken aback by the use of her first name, something he rarely does. She stops in her tracks briefly before entering her room with the swipe of a keycard. 

As he enters his own room, he feels himself losing control. Not entirely, but he would be lying if he said this case hadn’t been rough for the team, all dealing with things they had yet to heal from. For Gideon, still readjusting to work after dealing with his own PTSD. Morgan, whose childhood trauma had been exhumed and exposed to everyone in his life. JJ and Reid who had returned from Georgia with all kinds of demons. Reid whose behavior had been more than erratic in the past weeks. Adding in this latest row between him and Prentiss. And Prentiss… a woman he’d known for over a decade, but knew almost nothing about.

As he sinks into the mattress, he recalls her genuine excitement at the plate of chocolate chip cookies the detectives had given them. He wonders if her mother ever baked, for her, with her, if she was even around to do so. 

He falls asleep to the sound of her footsteps pacing through the wall.

[yousaydisco]

Scrapped bit of 'Realizing Vicky'

A couple of months ago I wrote a fic 'Reinventing Jean Vicquemare' and started writing a sequel almost immediately after, but then hit a wall and stopped. I didn't write a lot but I still didn't want it to be tossed unceremoniously in the trash.

Included is: ~900 words of Trans Fem Jean, Jean/Kim, references to casework, sex, and gender dysphoria. It's the beginning of what was intended to be a much longer fic so it's Very Unfinished.

"How do you do it?" Vicky murmurs quietly into his chest. They are both still nude, drenched in sweat, having finished having sex only twenty minutes earlier. Kim stalls in his motions of carding his hand through her hair, gently scratching her scalp. He doesn't move away. 

"What do you mean?" His accent, already strong and purely Revacholian, is even thicker now. It'll be back to normal before he goes to bed, this is only a slip in his composure. 

She means his flattened chest with its two perpendicular scars under his pecs, starting from the armpit and ending with a curve to his nipples. How he carries himself with such a sure confidence, almost a swagger except not since if he walked with any more confidence than he has it would be decidedly uncool, but as it stands it comes off as so natural that no one could fault it. How the most vitriolic and bigoted people would look at him and find reasons for them to believe he was a lesser man than them, but be damned if they had to say that he's not a man at all. 

(And if they want to argue that he's not a man then she could cite how he wears a harness and a six-inch purple dildo like it's the most natural thing in the world and seemed to barely break a sweat while he systemically took her apart.)

But she doesn't say any of that. She's silent for a moment and then unravels herself from Kim. Unwraps her arms from where they were curled around his waist and she abruptly stands up, only staying in the room long enough to grab the pair of discarded sweats and go for a smoke.

She doesn't have a balcony - she's not made of fucking money, or really anything besides amphetamines and an urge to get fucked one last time that's keeping her alive for a little longer - so she goes to the living room window and leans out. Eventually, Kim saddles next to her.

He clears his throat, silently and gently prodding her to continue. Except the words still don't - they just aren't coming.

"I don't know." She does eventually say, which is slightly better than nothing. She isn't leaving him completely hanging, at least not by her logic. The topic is dropped. 

They sit together in silence until her cigarette is smoked almost down to the nub. Then Kim reaches over for the tiny tube of passionfruit scented moisturizer that she had recently acquired and she applied it to her hands, feeling the rough patches greedily drink in the lotion like a woman lost in the desert. 

Despite the warmth, Vicky sleeps with the comforter over her ears. 

____

She is not Vicky at work, even in her head. But she does relent a little and let herself be her. 

It feels like a mistake every time. Like it can be read on your face. Jean-y boy finally admitted it! She's a lady-man! Or he's a sissy? It's a f - 

"You look like you're being mean to yourself again." Judit says patiently. 

"Glad to know nothing's changed." She says sardonically. But it did successfully break her out of her mind. 

They are alone together in the car. Official RCM business. Went out on a call for a domestic dispute across town. Wouldn't be the business of the MCU except for the fact that it occurred in the same apartment building that only a day earlier had reported a tenant went missing. It's turning into a whole shitshow.

It resulted in them breaking up the 'fight' (the man throwing his weight around to show off how big his balls are and the woman trying desperately to not be seen as another battered wife) with Judit getting shoved aggressively into the wall and Jean cold-clocking the man twice until he went down. Once was needed, the second was for fun. 

"You still alright?" She asks again. For maybe the third time, or possibly more than a third, which might be very annoying and might make Judit feel like she's being looked down on and viewed as a delicate thing that can't handle the job, and fuck she doesn't mean that. But also it was a nasty hit. On the head! As soon as they get back to the station Judit is going straight to Gottlieb, but that also means she hasn't been checked out yet. 

But Judit is patient to a fault. She just sighs and says "I'm glad it's over."

"Preaching to the choir." And then the car roars to life and Jean, carefully, starts the drive back to the precinct. 

Jean doesn't know why she expects things to stay perfectly quiet. It's not like Judit is in love with her own voice or anything, but she doesn't care to let a friendly silence linger for too long. Jean suspects it has something to do with her husband back home. Too many dinners just spent sitting and staring at the food, and then downtime spent in separate rooms and sharing a bed that may as well be the size of the house it feels so empty. Usually