#i feel like my brain exploded trying to explain this

[hdra77]

THE CHRONOMANCER CAMPAIGN CONCEPT

This is going to be a long post explaining about my slugcat oc's concept and their abilities!

also just a quick reminder i'm not good at explaining stuff in general so i hope an explanation with visuals is easier to understand!

the chronomancer needed 8 food pips for hibernation and extra two for storage

this slugcat doesn't have a stomach storage because it needs all the pips it can store in its stomach to compensate for its energy use.

its special ability is state binding. with this ability the slugcat is able to bind an object, leaving a golden glow in its place.

and if the ability is used again the object the slugcat is holding will teleport back to its place.

Sub ability of state binding And arguably more useful If the slugcat is standing in the afterimage when the object is teleported back The momentum 'stores' in the item itself And the yellowish glow on the object becomes intense

but the more the slugcat store its momentum it will lead to them being exhausted since it consumes so much energy and magic from the force

heres a poorly drawn demonstration how the chronomancer's general ability works

now more about their ability. they have this 'vision' ability where they are able to 'phase through walls' but heres the catch. when this ability is activated their surroundings change, which makes the slugcat get a glimpse into the past and what the place used to look back in those days. they cant always have this ability activated for a longer amount of time and it will wear out after 30 seconds

i have this idea where this ability would be very useful in puzzles and such.

this idea is still a work in progress but i wanted to share this here to hear what you guys think! ^^ and maybe if its possible the chronomancer can even become a mod of its own in the future!

also some extra bits here:

like chronomancer's vision form and present form seperatedly

any questions are welcomed!!

[mayashesfly]

When the RadioStatic obsession brainrot is so strong that you start overanalyzing every single frame in Stayed Gone and comparing it to the other duet Alastor had which is Hell's Greatest Dad so you could understand the similarities and differences between the two of them and how the visuals accentuate and allude to the idea that Alastor isn't taking his duet with Vox as seriously as with Lucifer based on the way the visuals was framed amongst other things.

The visuals is genuinely fascinating and leads to itself as to why we see Alastor's dynamic with Vox as different to Lucifer by the different ways they were framed against each other thanks to everyone who worked on Hazbin Hotel.

[clawsextended]

on a note to all: my plotting style is something i like to call i have adhd and if i see you on the dash and have an idea chances are i’ll im you about it. i’m an anxious little dude who isn’t always active in a broad scope, and it’s always been my nature to reach out to people. that doesn’t make me even remotely anxious. not even remotely expected to answer me — i totally get it, sometimes you don’t feel the vibe — but a general psa about how i work. i come from the dinosaur era where the only way to communicate with one another on any level was to directly talk to them and frankly i don’t even know how else you’re ever supposed to plot with a person otherwise. like… how do you write if you never talk????

[murdleandmarot]

Hiii!!! I mainly wanted to say hi how ya cooking :3 I misplaced my murdle book after a road trip but I realised I'm really bad at figuring out who's lying do you have any tips?? Ty for reading this :D 🫶

HI HELLO SORRY FOR NOT RESPONDING

I got sick and then got sad 💔💔💔

Okay so my irl friend who also has the murdle book (I threw it at their head for their birthday <3) is also having the same problem. The witness statements are the worst in the world, I’m kinda bad at them too, and it’ll be difficult to explain in text but here it goes:

Go down the line and take turns operating under the assumption that one statement at a time is untrue. That’ll make it easier to figure out who’s telling the truth, because if you reverse a true statement, that means 2/3 of the statements are false, and the whole problem falls apart.

Fill out the whole box too, because then it’s easier to figure out what’s what.

I’m so sorry if this is incomprehensible it’s very late here and I’m tired <3333 also logic puzzles are hard for me to explain because words no go work <333333

ALSO!!!! A really quick way to figure out if there’s a flaw in a problem is to make 3/4 of a box with the check marks. Kinda like

Like this *shrugs apologetically*

Thanks for reaching out ily lots 🫶🫶🫶‼️‼️‼️

[lock-my-feelings-in-a-jar]

i listened to nothing but 3 of russ's albums for like 2 months and only now i've started listening to the rest again

[monstersholygrail]

what about monster bf that it's so excited that he finishes without even touching himself

Virgin!Monster Roommate whimpers as he bolts from your room and scurries off into his own. A heady mix of humiliation and arousal burn in his belly and he can’t stand it. The image of you touching yourself like that is burned in his brain and it’s doing funny things to his body. He aches and tingles all over and he doesn’t know what to do.

He dives face first into his bed, stuffing his face in his pillow and releasing a monstrous groan. Of pain or pleasure he isn’t sure. A beat of silence settles and it only embarrassed the poor monster further. Then his door creaks open ever so slowly as you walk in.

“Heyyyy buddy,” you say tentatively, looking over his form to assess the damage.

Your Virgin Monster Roommate groans in response, rapidly shaking his head. He pushes his pillow against his ears as if that’ll block your voice from his hyper-hearing. Even then the smell of your sweat and the lust dripping from your pores has his cock throbbing in his pants.

“You saw a lot of intense stuff back there, didn’t you? Remember that talk we had about knocking—“

Virgin Monster Roommate bolts up, not wanting to hear you finish that sentence. You yelp quietly as he suddenly sits up in bed. Turing to face you with his bright blushing face without any shame.

“What was all that? W-what were you doing with all those things?” Your roommate spits out, memories flashing in his head. Various sized objects splayed all across your bed. Now it’s your turn to slightly blush, nervous laughter bubbling up from your throat.

“You mean the toys? Well, I use them on all my sensitive parts to make me feel so nice and good. To bring me more pleasure than I can stand till I explode,” you explain, voice turning husky as you walk closer to your inexperienced monster roommate.

His throb bobs, imagining all the ways you could use those toys on your pretty plush body to make you feel just as warm and tingly as he feels right now. His body burns impossibly hotter, precum spilling out of him and soaking his boxers.

“A-and why were you tied up?”

You laugh again, no longer nervous or embarrassed. Biting your lip you continue to walk closer to him. Your clothes that were hastily thrown on were a mess and your hair almost as wild as him.

“I did that to myself. I like to see myself on full display. Or maybe… I was just waiting for you to barge into my room like you do every night right on the dot,” your purr seductively, leaning in closer as you finally reach him.

Virgin Monster Roommate sucks in a harsh breath as you lean in. His body feeling so many things he’s never really felt before. He’s aware of his rock hard cock. The thing gets hard every day since he’s lived with you, he knows what it means to be so dizzyingly turned on. But everything else? No idea. The pressure pulsing in his lower abdomen, the sparks coursing through his body, the way he feels himself ache the more he holds back something he can’t explain.

But the moment you gently lower yourself, kneeling on the ground between his spread legs, and your hands ever so gently brush against his thighs, your monster roommate snaps. An anguished grunt falls past his lips, hips jerking and bucking up toward you as if begging for you. Then a warm rush of liquid erupts and fills his boxers full of his cum.

Sweat beads at his forehead as spurt after spurt of cum spills out of him till there’s a wet spot on his pants. Your teasing absolutely draining him before you could even really touch him. He pants heavily, blushing even harder as he realizes what must’ve just happened. His eyes hesitantly flicker over to your shocked face.

“Did-did you just cum untouched?” You ask, trying to wrap your head around it. Even as your own body floods with arousal. So desperately eager to play with him just as you’d play with your toys.

“Y-yes, hah! Yes, I did,” he moans, his cock twitching and straining against his pants. Already so desperate for more. A wicked smile spreads across your lips and your hands slide all the way up his thighs and right where he needs you most. Virgin Monster Roommate sucks in a harsh breath as he feels himself start to harden.

“Such a good boy. Can you do it again?”

And you’re both certain, without a doubt, that by the end of tonight Virgin!Monster Roommate won’t be a virgin any longer.

[womanmanipulator]

prove your love

spencer reid x bau!fem!reader

synopsis: lila gives your boyfriend heart eyes. when he’s assigned to stay over at her place you’re pissed. when spencer comes home, he makes sure to show his love for you. SMUT!!! minors dni

warnings: dom/sub, praise kink, oral sex (fem receiving), piv, various positions, overstimulation, pet names such as trouble, sweetheart, love, etc. very cheesy.

~

you slip your heels off in the hall with an aggravated huff. ‘look on the bright side, the case is over.’ your brain tries to tell you but the many sights and experiences of lila disrespecting you and glaring at you wasn’t going to leave your brain anytime soon. meanwhile, spencer got the opposite treatment, compliments, heart eyes, and lingering handshakes the entire time. she even slipped him her number, that little—

“hey,” spencer says, knocking you out of your thoughts. he can tell your brains conjuring something up. he can practically see the cogs turning in your head. “what’s got you so worked up?” he asks, taking a step towards you. his hands settle on your hips then travel to your lower back. he smiles down at you.

“nothing.” you dismiss, light and airy. trying to act unbothered. “why do you think i’m mad?” you question back, a little too defensive for your liking. “are you asking me to profile you?” he grins. you don’t get the chance to speak before he starts, “for starters, you practically ripped your heels off and threw them, you’re all tense, your fists were balled up and i can tell your thinking hard about something.” he exaggerates.

“you’re wrong because i am perfectly fine.” you state matter of factly. brushing his hands off you and walking to the bedroom. he follows after you. “holding in emotions, specifically anger, can have detrimental effects on one’s mental health. the constant internal struggle to suppress emotions can lead to even more stress, anxiety and even depression.” spencer explains. you just hum in response, searching in your closet for something comfortable, your mind doesn’t stop running about stupid lila though. he watches you. it wasn’t uncommon, he loved to observe you. most of the time it was just to see your pretty face while you were in thought but other times he liked to study your behavior and learn your routines. spencer liked to do it with you.

“you’re staring,” you comment. “i can’t help it.” he flirts. “oh please, did you tell lila that too today?” you let slip. you flush. glad you aren’t face to face with spencer right now. “that’s what this is about?” he chuckles. “cmere,” he says. you stumble over to the bed and he pulls you onto his lap. “you know i love you right?” he says. you nod. not looking at him. “so much, like i am unconditionally and irrevocably in love with you, or whatever bella said.” he makes a twilight reference. you were the one who forced him to watch it. you giggle a little, meeting his eyes. he smiles. “there’s my girl.” he murmurs. your heart swoons. his hands settle on your waist and he leans in. you kiss, it’s almost like a breath of fresh air. when he pulls away, still keeping close he speaks. “i think i need to prove how much i love you, hmm?” he hums. “you don’t need to.” you mumble. “but i want to, please?” he pleads. you don’t protest for long. “okay.. if you must.” you giggle. he smiles. he’s so pretty you feel like your going to explode.

as he places you on your back, unbuttoning your shirt, he starts to spit out another fact. “did you know men are more jealous of sexual infidelity than emotional?” he asks. “women are actually the opposite, they get more jealous with ‘emotional cheating’ than sexual.” he takes his time, you always loved how smart he was. it turned you on.

“i wasn’t jealous,” you say. “oh really?” he snorts. slipping off your shirt. “yeah.” you say. he instructs you to lift your hips so he can slide your pants off. “mhmm..” he says. eyes focused on your body, he’s too distracted to make a smart comment. “she was pretty, i guess.” you try to say. lila was gorgeous. he just chuckles and shakes his head. not bothering to comment. he dips down and kisses you. nose accidentally bumping against yours and teeth clashing. it was messy, just how you liked it. “what was that thing about kissing and shaking hands?” you ask, just to hear him talk.

“the number of pathogens transferred from just a single handshake is staggering. it’s safer to kiss,” he says into the skin of your neck. “that’s interesting, tell me more.” you smile. he groans. “i can tell you all about it later, can’t i just take care of my baby now?” he smiles. “baby? what happened to trouble?” you grin. “you are trouble,” he sighs. lovingly of course. you giggle as he kisses down from your neck to your collarbone, then unbuckles your bra without struggle. pulling it off. he trails down to your tummy, pressing little kisses here and there. making you antsy. he reaches the spot you need him most and smiles into your skin as you squirm a little. “patience, trouble.” he says. he plants a firm kiss on your hipbone and pulls your panties down with one hand. “you’re so pretty,” he smiles. eyes flickering to your face. “all mine, hmm?” he hums and you nod enthusiastically. he chuckles and thumbs experimentally at your clit.

you press your hips up into his touch, leaning into it. chasing that feeling. he smirks, inserting two fingers slowly. he paws at that spongy spot within your walls. you let out a quiet moan and spencer doesn’t deem it good enough, he starts punching at the spot. abusing it almost. this pulls another moan out of you and he speeds up the movements on your clit. you almost see heaven as you arch your back, eyes rolling back. he leans down, attaching his lips on your clit and sucking harshly. thank god you weren’t standing because you would’ve doubled over with how strong your orgasm was. you try to get the words out but only pant. spencer can tell, “gonna cum, trouble?” he asks. then continues his attack on the bundle of nerves. the coil in your belly snaps, climaxing with his name on your lips.

the sound of your slick fills the room as spencer works you through your organism. eyes trained on your pussy. his fingers are pulled out, given a quick lick and suddenly his mouth is on you. lapping and drinking up your release like a man starved. “spence, wait— gimme a minute-“ moan.

your begs fall on deaf ears as he’s absolutely lost in you. there’s no pulling him out. you reach your hand down and bury it in his hair. pressing your hips into the bed to escape the overstimulation. trying to tug him off, he doesn’t listen though. moaning into you when you pull on his hair. the vibrations make you even more sensitive before, his nose brushes up against your clit as two strong hands come to hold you down on either side.

you moan, tears pricking in your eyes from the overstimulation. everything’s magnified by 10. the obscene sounds of your pussy fill the room as your poor clit is abused, spencer’s tongue prodding into you, milking you for everything you have to offer. the familiar hear fills your belly and you can feel the coil start to unwind. “spence—“ you sob. cumming again. riding against his face. you can feel that bastard smirk against you as he greedily laps up your release. “you’re okay,” he coaxs. finally pulling off of you. he presses a kiss to your mound then pulls himself up, he kisses your cheek. then wipes the stray tears on your cheek.

“hi pretty,” he says with a smile. your eyes meet his and you smile, a little dazy. “you have something on your face.” you say, remaints of cum. “do i?” he chuckles. he wipes it off with the back of his hand and kisses you. you can taste yourself on his tongue. “love you so much,” he mumbles against your lips. you don’t get the chance to respond before he’s kissing you again. a little tongue slipping in as he gets carried away. he messily kisses the corner of your mouth, then latches onto your neck. he works at his zipper, multitasking.

begrudgingly, he pulls away from you, slipping down his pants and kicking them off haphazardly. you tug at his shirt and he takes the hint to pull it off. undoing his tie and throwing it somewhere. when he FINALLY takes his shirt off you get to run your hands along his torso giddily. “y’so pretty,” you mumble. “this isn’t about me, it’s about you, trouble.” he says. slipping off his boxers. his cock slips angrily against his stomach and you almost whine. he leans down and kisses you as he slowly pushes in. the stretch burns but is bearable. “i know. its okay,” he whispers. he presses to the hilt, nudging against your cervix. you feel full, his hand slithers down and presses against your lower belly. “mmphh.” you whimper against his lips. he devours the sound and keeps his lips on yours as he starts to thrust in and out of you. pulling his head back to see your face every so often as the tip nudges against that sweet spot. it’s torturous how slow he’s going. you’re so overstimulated, tears start falling out of your eyes.

he smiles down at you, picking up the pace a little. his face contorts and he lets out a moan. you involuntarily clench at that and it punches out another sound. “trouble— can’t keep doing that.” he slurs. the wet sounds of him shoving your slick out of you fill the room as your hips collide. teeth and noses brush together messily and he’s practically devouring you. everything’s happening so fast. before you know it you’re coming again, his name recited on your lips. he works you through it, slamming into you with a feverish pace. you constrict around him and he’s not long after you, pressing himself as far as he can into you and coming. he’s whining,

you pant, he’s collapsed ontop of you. buried in your neck. tears roll down your face. “good girl, good job. taking me so well.” he praises breathily. taking? “..taking..?” you say. “don’t you mean took?”

“we aren’t done.” he lifts himself up from your shoulder, pushing his glasses up. the both of your climax leaks around his dick and spills out of you slowly. “i can’t!” you start to cry as he pulls out, he presses your knees to your chest and shoves himself back in. so much for catching your breath. “you will,” he says softly. beginning to thrust in and out of you, he’s so deep you feel it in your stomach. “that’s it, my good girl huh?” he praises into your neck, a pang of arousal shoots through your body and you can feel yourself get wetter. “spence—“ “none of the whining, you can take it.” he says. he bites at your jawline. you moan loudly. everything feels so good, it’s too much. he reaches down and starts to rub figure eights into your clit gently, a contrast to the brutal pace he had going. “there ya go, taking me so well.” he murmurs, pulling his teeth off and kissing gently. “ah- i- gonna.. cum.” you force out. almost forgetting how to talk. “let go baby.” he says. your back arches, eyes rolling back, clinging to him as if he was the one keeping your grounded. he follows after, shooting cum into you with a whimper and a “nngh.”

it’s unreal. you see stars.

when you come down from your high, your sat on spencer’s lap, dick still intact. you sob, falling into his shoulder and clinging onto him. “i can’t spence.” you sniffle from the overstimulation. if you had to come again you’d probably scream. you’d also scream though if he pulled out.

“the world record for most female orgasms in an hour is a hundred and ah- fuck, thirty six” he says as you clench around him. “i think you can.” he smirks. you push his glasses up.

you bite back, “nerd.”

-

that’s it

not proofread

i’m sick asf rn 🥰

[harukyuu2]

Hello, a request, please from the Furin boys x reader, the Furin boys discover that their girlfriend buys Sanrio plushies that look like them (they put an image of Hello Kitty's friends and the Furin boys, but according to me Ume looks like Cinnamonroll, not Kitty)

Hellooo! I loved this collab tbh so here it is !! ALSO RHANKS FOR ALL THE LIKESSS i love y'all

♡ Pure fluff - Female reader !! - Hello kitty replaced by Cinnamonroll <3 - Small revision

☆ Characters - Haruka Sakura, Hajime Umemiya, Suo Hayato, Nirei Akihiko, Kyotaro Sugishita

!! You were the literal definition of what TikTok calls a "Sanrio Girl." It was almost like you were born to live and breathe it! TikTok is freaking out over the hunt of a limited-edition Hello Kitty purse from the 2010s? Yeah, it’s just sitting there in your wardrobe. People are debating the existence of a discontinued Sanrio character that only three people in the world probably know about? You’re definitely one of them. That being said, your boyfriend had no idea about your little... obsession. You kept it pretty low-key in public, and he’d never been over to your place before. But lately, you couldn’t help noticing some uncanny similarities between him and one of your Sanrio plushies! So, you finally invited him over for the first time, ready to reveal your little collector’s hobby—and to prove your point about the similarities between them!

◇♡ ~ H A R U K A S A K U R A

• He was STUNNED.

• and confused too- how did you sleep on that bed packed of plushies?? Was that even your bed? Or a bed for the plushies...?

• dont think he didnt notice you like cute things but this- how arent you broke from so much things??

He tensed slightly, his brows furrowed and cheeks flushed, as you grabbed a plushie and held it up in front of him, comparing the two with intense focus to confirm your theory.

"The fuck-"

"Shut up, im thinking!" - Haruka grumbled at that answer with a small blush but listened to you

• When you compared them, he inmediately huffed embarassed of your decision, didnt you have something better than a dog?? was that supposed to say he was an animal? He isnt too good with this weird comparations you make..

"Why are you comparing me to a DAMN DOG!? is it- IS IT MY HAIR!?" - You smiled softly at his words and camed slightly closer explaining yourself before he explodes from embarassment.-

"Basically yes, but did you know that Pochacco sometimes is clumsy and sticks his nose where he shouldnt?" - She leaves a small laugh and feels happy that he is still hearing her even if she is basically talking about a topic people consider for a younger audience. - "Just like you the other day! You decided to see what was happening with Anzai even if you could just shrugged it as a problem of him only" - She smiles sweetly at his boyfriend who frowns even more, a tight line on his lips and a blush that almost emanated heat. He can bark all he wants, but you know in the inside he has a good heart that doesnt bite-

"Im not clum- i dont- ugh, im just doing what the captain of the class is supossed to do!" - He growls but shuts himself with her small kiss on his lips, rubbing his neck embarassed he surrenders. Maybe if he buys you more cute things you'll shut up about it? he isnt trying to spoil you of course !!

• If you’re worried about him finding it weird, don’t be. He might make a passing comment about you having too much stuff, but deep down, he doesn’t think it’s weird at all. If it makes you happy, that’s all that matters to him! Honestly, he’ll probably start thinking of you whenever he spots something with Pochacco or Hello Kitty. Just don’t expect him to learn all the names—his brain isn’t built for keeping track of all that!

• now, if you call the Pochacco plushie "our son"... you just made him stop working for the rest of the day. He will scream its not but in the inside he will like it

• if you convice him to bring atleast one of your Pochacco's plushies to his house so he sleeps with it when youre not there, he wont refuse but at first he will say its stupid. After some days, he isnt sure if you made a spell or something on that thing because now he cant sleep without hugging it when youre not around. he wont tell you that tho

☆ H A J I M E U M E M I Y A

• He will be excited to know your hobby even if he didnt understand at first what it was, a serie? a collection? a game? yeeeaah! it doesnt matter, if youre happy he is too. • He would tell you all the plushies you have are like his vegetables, their little babies! You two made the deal that now he has to take care of your things not getting dust if you arent around while you will take care of the plants not dying • When you compare him to Cinnamoroll, he hums looking at the plusie sweetly, how could he deny something to you? He was curious where did you finded them similar tho, it seems you love this plushies a lot. "You think so?" - Umemiya leaves a small laugh and grins posing with the plushie close to his face- "He has my haircolor!" "Yeah! But Cinnamoroll is a bit calmer than you… Still, you two totally look alike!" you say, happy to see that your boyfriend seems comfortable and not at all weirded out by your hobby. • When you tell him that Cinnamoroll is a dog and not a bunny HE IS SHOCKED. He will make a dramatic act apologizing to the plushie ngl he seems more eager to take care of it than you • When you ask him if he wants to bring it to his house, he shakes his head saying - "If you ever miss me and im not here, think of that little guy as me!" - He will accept a white shirt of Cinnamon tho, he wouldnt be embarassed to use it • Just imagine the heavenly kings seeing Umemiya talking about a problem of the town while he has a cinnamoroll shirt, he isnt even picking up why Hiragi has a different frown than usual ☆ S U O H A Y A T O • To be honest, he would be kinda surprised, but he wouldnt show it that much. His quick reaction is just blinking amused and smile to not worry you about him finding it weird "Oh dear, why have you been keeping this hobby as a secret? Its kinda cute..." - He says peeking around your room and taking by himself one of the plushies that called his attention, Kuromi. "Ah, Suo! that is-" - You were about to talk explaining the similarities between them but someway he is more fast than you. - "You sleep with this plushie? Hm...could it be that it reminds you of me?" - He ask on a certain mocking but lovely tone. When you ask him how does he know, he just shrugs it off and calls it "Boyfriend instict" • He would be totally fine with your little hobby, he just thinks about it as another thing to tease you about and see your cute face twitch a little. And also as an idea for future gifts "Why are you comparing me to a little jester bunny, love? Hm? Am I really that mocking to you...?" - he asks dramatically, letting out a small laugh.

• He’d love listening to you ramble about Sanrio for hours—he doesn’t mind you talking his ear off while he sips on some tea. Sometimes, he’d even try to argue with you about a fact (even if your version is correct) just because he enjoys seeing you get a little annoyed. Though he’d kiss you right after to make it up to you! • Just like Umemiya, he would let the plushie with you, so he can tease you about it when he remembers it in your usual morning walks together. "So, how was the night with my mini version? Did you sleep well, sweetheart?" ☆ N I R E I A K I H I K O • Just like Sakura, he was surprised to see your big collection of Sanrio things. What he would probably do the first time he sees this, is take out his notebook and quickly take notes of it so he has an idea of next gifts for you • When you tell him he looks like Pompompurin and show him the plushie, a blush creeps onto his face with a nervous smile, leaving him visibly embarrassed. He wouldnt deny it, but he'd definitely wonder why you think that. When you explain its because of his hair and his golden-retriever-like personality when he gets excited talking, he’d only look more confused.

• Yapper x Yapper type of relationship LITERALLY. While you ramble about Sanrio and Pompompurin similarities with him, he would yap you about Furin, a perfect balance between you two! • He would also find pretty funny finding similarities of sanrio characters with people of Furin, like a form of combine your two favourite things! "So hear me out on this one- Sakura looks like Pochacco!" - You say to Nirei with a convicing smile, showing him your plushie of Pochacco, Nirei just gasp and takes notes of it nodding at your such expert level of analysis. • Nirei would gladly accept you giving him Pompompurin to take care of at his house. He’d probably even send you random photos of Pompompurin in different spots around his place every hour Nirei: "Look! Purin is preparing himself to sleep" *one attached image* - Such a silly dog, you two go to sleep for tomorrow <3 • Such sweet parents for the plushie ngl ☆ K Y O T A R O S U G I S H I T A

• Yeaaahhh, he isnt seeing your vision on the similarities...what does he has to do with a blue penguin called Tuxedo Sam? • At first, he wouldnt understand your obsession over Sanrio, but he wouldnt question you about it ever. After all, his grandma teached him to be a gentleman and he wouldnt want to make you two angry! "So, i think you look like this little guy!" - You said to him directly since Sugishita isnt a fan of overly complicated or unnecessarily long explanations. He blinked, confused, as he grabbed the plushie without thinking much about it. He didnt really see your point, but he didn’t want to upset you either, so he did his best to say something nice. "I-I like it! This penguin is... good!" - You sighed, crossing your arms but smiling at his effort. "Don’t force yourself, dummy..."

• If you start talking about Sanrio and your reasons for thinking he’s similar to Tuxedo Sam, he’ll probably just nod along to everything you say, even if he gets lost after your second explanation. Honestly, he might even fall asleep—but dont blame him, thats just something he tends to do! "Soooo, i thinked of Tuxedo as you because he doesnt like intruders and problems just like you with people that want to fight Umemiya! and...Are you awake-?" - If you get angry at him falling asleep he would try his best to make you feel better once he wakes up. • He wouldnt bring the plushie to his house, but a random day without you noticing he would take the size of the plushie to make custom outfits for Tuxedo. That would probably make you happy right? He asked his grandma for help pls like it

[mobbu-min]

☆ yummy in my tummy ☆

part three

a/n i've been following the halloween event pretty closely for the jp servers, and omg, i have fallen deeper in love with leona! he's just so gentlemanly and honestly, the type of guy you would totally bring home to meet ur parents! plus he looks so damn good! also scully such a cutie patootie! love his little mannerisms and design! i was a little sad that ace and deuce wasn't in, but that just means that they'll both be there for the next halloween event!

edit: so this was meant to be posted like a long time ago hence my og author note, but better late the. never ig. but my point still stands that skully is a little cutie patootie <3

included ignihyde, diasomnia + rollo

tw nothing

want more? here's part one + two

ignihyde <3

⋆ He can’t help it! But the first thing that escape Idia's mouth is ‘Is this poison?’ He can't help it! He’s just a little awkward and has low self-esteem! Idia can’t phantom the idea that anyone, especially you, would take time out of their day to make and bring little, ugly him, food. (his words not mine) It’s literally a ten minute conversation where you have to explain to him that you wanted to this because you care about his skinny ass. And after he gets that through his thick ass head and into his big ass brain, does he explode into hot, hot red. Despite being a literal genius, Idia’s social department (self-esteem? self-love?) is severely understaffed. I don’t think Idia’s all that picky when it comes to food, he’s just not used to eating food out of his comfort zone. But batting your pretty eyes and asking ‘pretty please?’ is enough to get him to bend over.

⋆ If he could eat, Ortho would adore your food! (real talk, i can’t remember if Ortho could canonically eat through like idk a food cavity space thing or if i had just read that from a fic) Would ask for all types of things. But since he can’t, Ortho enjoys your food through Idia. He’s really happy that someone would take the time out of their day just for his big brother. By his data, doesn’t that mean you like his big bro? In all sorts of media, romantic partners make each other food to show their love! If Idia wasn’t such a danger magnetic in the kitchen, Ortho would force Idia to make you food too! So you’ll just have to settle with Ortho as your little helper instead. (he’s so excited to spend one on one time with his future in-law! teehee)

Diasomnia <3

⋆ My, make him food? How courageous you are, little human. Malleus gobbles your food down like it's his last supper. Food created by his child of man? How could he possibly let it go to waste! Compliments you to the moon and back. Though because it is Malleus, he does slip a few critiques. (he can’t help it! He’s a prince afterall) Malleus has never had an edible homemade dish full of love given to him, like ever. (sorry lilia, your food is full of love, just not edible) A warm feeling blossoms all across his body like blooming roses. If his tail was out, it would be swaying to the beat of his racing heart. Malleus didn’t think it was possible to fall deeper in love with you, but here you go, always surprising him. Perhaps, you’ll find a meal on your desk one day by the initials M.D.

⋆ Ohohoho? So you want to challenge a culinary master! Lilia will not be beaten by such a cute little human! You better start running tehehehehe- On another less scary note, Lilia enjoys your food immensely! Of course he could think of a few ways to make it much more protein packed and nutritious but that’s just his inner master chef coming out teehee. Beware, he insists that you must try his cooking, it’s only fair of him to treat you to a meal. Or even worse, insist that you too must cook together. Pray to the seven (or hope that Silver will be conscious enough to drag his father outta there) because you’re going to need it.

⋆ Wonderful… is the only word Silver is able to get out before he falls asleep. When he wakes, Silver is awfully embarrassed. Silver is blown away at your kindness. His face a perment baby pink the rest of the day. You thought of him and no one else. Surely this must mean something right? Still, Silver must do something for you too. It’s only fair. (what a sweet gentleman) he considers making you a treat as well, but considers otherwise. It might be unwise to be in the kitchen with his condition. But of course, it’s not like Silver won’t have any help! All the woodland creatures are more than happy to help Silver win over his crush’s heart! The next day you’ll have his treat flown to you by a couple of blue birds, chipmunks and rabbits gathering at your door with berries of all sorts. Silver thankful for such generous companions. If he had to face you, he might just fall into a coma.

⋆ He can’t help it when he says, “Are you trying to poison me?!’ and ‘Don’t you dare poison my Waka-Sama! I will fight you, human!” Sebek’s like a dog, barking and barking, until he smells the delicious scent of your food and suddenly, he’s stubbornly eating it at the table. Cursing himself for being so weak to delicious food (and your pretty smile) Oh how could he properly serve his Waka-sama if he’s weakened by such things?! THE CRUELTY! He does really enjoy your food. Typically he’s often left unsatisfied, his stomach growling with lingering hunger after his meals. But for some odd reason, every time he’s chowing down on your food, he’s satisfied. His stomach is silent but his chest is warm and fuzzy like dandelions. Are you sure you don’t have any magic? Sebek decides to keep his curiosity to himself. Just like the rest of diasomnia, you’ll find yourself faced with a box filled to the brim with food courtesy of the blushing, stuttering fae in front of you.

Extra <3

⋆ Very rarely does Rollo find time to sit down and eat. Between his studies, his duties as student president and world domination (kidding), he is much too busy to have anything more than a piece of bread and glass of water. You’ll have to drag him to sit his ass down to eat and even then he’ll be scolding you for messing up his schedule. But when the warm and homey scent of your food reaches his nose, his voice falls and mind clears. And all of a sudden, he’s very much aware of the ache in his bones, the growling of his stomach and the tight ringing of his head. Rollo listens to you tell him you made this just for him, heaviness hits his chest at the concern lacing your voice. Any other time he’d scoff and leave, but this is you. His friend. He doesn’t hesitate. The moment your food touches his tongue he’s done for. Perhaps the hassle of life is worth it.

[dalamjisung]

A muted shade of green ✧ Chapter 7: The end of beginnings

genre: angst, fluff, a lot of introspection

word count: 9743 (MY GOD IT'S A LONGER CHAPTER)

pairing: reader x spencer reid

description: you and spencer finally give into the tension that's been growing between you, but what happens now?

a muted shade of green masterlist

previous chapter // next chapter

This chapter I'm dedicating to @chicaconfundidaycuriosa who makes my day with her hypothesis in the comments <3 thank you all for your support throughout this series!

“You do it.” 

“No!” You gasp, shaking your head so fast you feel like your brain is shaking too. “You do it!” 

“Your entire job is about people, you do it.” He insists, gently nudging you forward, but you don’t bulge. “Y/N, come on, it’s not that scary!”

“I’m not scared, I just hate talking on the phone! You wouldn’t know what’s that like, since you barely use yours.” 

“And now you’re diverging,” He giggles, pushing the phone over the counter to you once again. 

It has been almost thirty minutes of this and that is not really how you imagine spending your morning after all that had happened last night. For a moment there, Spencer’s voice fades to the background and all you can focus on are those beautiful, pink lips. Now that you know how they feel– the perfect balance of chapped roughness and natural softness; not now that you know how he tastes, something so naturally Spencer and minty toothpaste; not now that you know how he sounds when he whispers for more, more more. Not now, not ever.

Took you both some time to come down from the absolute high of acting like teenagers. What had started like a sweet, slow kiss, quickly turned into what teenagers would refer to ‘making out’, and suddenly you two were a little hurricane of hands, lips, and tangles bodies trying to make it to the room. The feeling of his hands on your waist, tugging you closer, pushing you down– “Y/N?”

Your cheeks explode in a fiery red shade when you realise he’s caught you daydreaming. 

Again. 

“Yeah?” Shaking your head slightly, look down at the phone being pushed between you two. 

“Are you going to call her?” 

To be fair, you haven’t really explained everything to him considering how… distracted… you were last night. And then this morning. And even now, mind going not so far away from the kitchen to the room, where absolutely nothing had happened last night. Absolutely. Nothing. Frustration settled after a while, a thrumming hum in the back of your head that never really let you fall asleep. It was only natural that after so long craving this, you had been excited at the thought of finally letting it happen, of allowing yourself to enjoy a moment that had meant as much in your dreams as it did in real life… but then you two made it to the bed. And you laid down. And suddenly, the underlying need behind every push and pull of his perfect lips against yours started to fade, and his hands that explored your body oh so eagerly started to slow down, and before you could say anything, he was backtracking to forehead kisses and getting up to brush his teeth. 

Like it had been just another day. 

Just another kiss. 

“I don’t want to,” You whisper back, eyes wide in a vulnerable state that has nothing to do with Abigail or the fact that you are about to hire her to take care of your store. 

This is not even about last night.

This is about this morning. 

This is about the fact that when you woke up, he wasn’t there. His side of the bed was tussled, and the pillows were thrown around, but Spencer was missing. For a moment, your heart sinks. You scramble around the bed, feeling out his side, searching for something, anything, that would give into your dwindling hope of last night not having been a dream, because god knows how many dreams you’ve had of him. But then you hear it, the sound of the shower running and the light humming of a man who has not a single musical bone in his body, and you let out a breath you didn’t even know you were holding. 

Then it downs on you. It wasn’t a dream. Spencer kissed you last night, that’s a fact. And now he’s about to come out of the bathroom and you refuse to let the first thing he sees, on such a special morning, be this messy hair, panicked face version of yourself. The way you roll out of bed, rushed to the point of tripping on the blankets and falling on your knees with a hiss, is enough to have you laughing at yourself. Your cheeks blush when you think of facing him so early in the day and despite the excitement of it all, you are nervous. What will he say? What will he do?

Making breakfast seems like a great way to ease your overthinking mind of any incoming anxieties, and it’s a simple matter of action and reaction. 

Action, breaking the eggs over the hot pan. Reaction, frying some eggs. Action, putting the bread in the toaster. Reaction, getting some toast to eat with your eggs. Action–

“Good morning.” Action, Spencer comes out of the shower.

“Good morning,” You call back, looking down at the pan with such an obsessions you barely notice him stopping behind you. 

You do notice his hands landing on your waist, though, and when he turns you around, you can smell the fresh scent of his minty soap he loves so much. His smile calms you a little, and he leans forward, coming down, down, down… until his lips touch your forehead. “Slept well?” He mumbles, reaching behind you for a toast and then walking away to grab his bag from wherever he hid it. Blinking, you can’t even answer his question. Is he fucking teasing you or is he serious? 

Safe to say, you don’t really speak up then nor later, and that’s how you two end up where you are, sitting in front of each other in a stupid battle over who calls who. 

“Why don’t you want to call her?”

Eyes cast down, almost in shame, you shrug. “I…” How do you explain it to him without sounding crazy? “I don’t know, Spence. She makes me feel… weird. Like she knows something I don’t.” 

“Oh sweetheart,” His nice words can’t hide the smile on his face. “It’s just change. And you’re human, Y/N, which means you naturally don’t like change. But it’s okay, I promise. You already asked Garcia to dig as deep as she could and nothing came up as suspicious. You also refuse to entertain the idea of hiring your second choice because you said, and I quote, ‘he grabbed a book with greasy hands.’ So, this is pretty much the only option you have.” 

Great. Instead of a kiss that you crave, you get the dose of reality check you deserve. “Thank you, Spencer,” You grumble, the irony of your words not missing the spot when his smile falters. You grab the phone to dealing the number you’ve been avoiding for so long, but you stop before pressing call. “Fuck.” 

“Y/N–“ The magic of last night is gone when his phone rings and you know he has to go. 

“Go,” You whisper, patting his shoulder with dejection. At this point, the morning is ruined and, to be very honest, he is partially at fault. 

A kiss is not something you would consider casual. You know a lot of people do, and that’s okay; you don’t mind about how other people live their lives. You do, however, care about what Spencer thinks and does, and in your books, kissing you and then ignoring it the next day is simply not acceptable. But then you sit with it for a while, and your brain starts whirring up. Usually, when you open your eyes, the sun is barely up and Spencer’s breathing is regular enough to keep your head going up and down, up and down, up and down. The more you two cuddle, the more you realise you love the sound of his heartbeat– you were yet to see him hurt, but you’ve heard enough stories from past cases that now, whenever you got that little extra confirmation that he is okay, you feel a sense of relief that you can’t really explain. Yet, that morning, when you finally make sense of what the fuck was happening without the your usual warm body next to you, you don’t feel relief. You don’t feel anything, to be very honest, because for a moment, your blood turns cold at the idea that Spencer might have woken up and regretted it all. 

“I feel like I shouldn’t,” He frown, cocking his head to the side in that way that makes you think he’s about to tell you something about yourself that you’ve never asked. “Y/N–“ “Go to work, Spencer,” You repeat yourself before pressing ‘call’. The phone in your ear is enough to keep him from trying to chase you. “Abigail? Hi! This is Y/N, from the bookstore… Yes. Yes, and from the uh, from the building. I’m calling with good news– you seem like the perfect person for the position. You– oh, no, no, it’s okay, you don’t have to bring me anything, it’s fine!”

This is the last thing you need– Abigail and her nosy nature. “What’s going on?” Spencer I next to you and his mouth is so close to your ear you shiver a little when he speaks. 

“Abigail, please, I’m about to go out and– oh, no, my… Spence is going to work. Thank you for offering to bake a cake but I’ll just se you at work, okay? Alright. Yeah, okay, thank you! I’ll be sending you a follow up email with all the information for next steps. Thank you! Have a good day! Bye!”

“Y/N, did Abigail do something to make you uncomfortable?” His hands on your shoulder that hold you at arms length are starting to annoy you. Now he didn’t even want you close? There is more to it and you know it. Above all, you’re not completely illogical, but your brain is working overtime and your heart is hurting, and now every little thing Spencer does will be an issue. 

Fed up with it all, you stomp your feet and walk away. “Go to work, Doctor Reid!” The impetuous way you huff as you turn around and slam the door of his room shut has him gasping, and you can hear if from where you stand, embarrassed by yourself and your ridiculous, childish behaviour. Still, you refuse to go back out there until you’re sure you’ve heard the door closing behind him. 

“Fuck me,” You mutter after you sit there in your own silence. The apartment doesn’t feel the same as it used to anymore. It’s not a matter of coming in and watering his plants anymore. You don’t just walk around looking for clues from the scattered books in his apartment anymore. You actually know things now. You know parts of his life that he had to tell you, parts that you didn’t have to guess, and it actually felt good— he was opening up out of his own volition and now you’ve ruined everything. Maybe you got greedy. Maybe you got greedy for his welcoming arms and whispered pet names. Maybe it all felt too good, and, just like Icarus, you might have flown too close to the sun, and now you are falling, wings melted and ruined. 

Before you know it, you’re already dialling your mom’s number. 

“Mom?” You are sitting on the floor, legs pulled to your chest with a ridiculous pout on your lips, and from the way she laughs on the other side of the line, you think she can hear it. 

“Well, look who it is,” She teases. It’s easy to picture her face when she says that. You two have made a dance out of it, this whole loving sarcasm thing, and she always go first. Naturally, you just follow her lead. “My daughter who forgot I exist.”

“Aw,” You smile, shaking your head in amusement. “Is this my mother? The one who knows how pick up the phone and dial my number if she wants to talk to me?”

You two laugh for a while before she speaks again. “I’m serious, sweetheart, I’ve missed you. I haven’t seen your face in a while and… and your dad misses you too, you know?” The slight sniffle on the other side of the line breaks your heart a little. 

“I miss him too,” You whisper, voice a bit too soft for her not to notice. 

“Y/N, is something wrong? Did something happen?” It’s no surprise your mom panics quickly when it comes to you, specially after everything that happened in New York. “Is it Josh? Did he find you?” 

God, how it hurts that she even has to worry about that. “No, no, it’s not Josh, it’s…” You are yet to tell her about Spencer. And not in the context of this entire situation with Cat, but about Spencer as the wonderful human he is. About his quirks and his love for books and his chess addiction and… and the fact that he has your heart in the palm of his hands and you’re scared. You’re so scared. “I met someone.” 

Her gasp has your eyes shutting– it’s so nostalgic, that noise of motherly surprise, that you can’t help but bask in it. Growing up, you had always been very close to your mother, enjoying days out together on Sundays and always trusting her to keep your secrets safe from the world. She was your biggest fan, too; supported you on everything you did, cheered from you from the sidelines of every game you wanted to try, helped you convince your dad to let you go to parties you never enjoyed. Never had she unfairly punished you, never had she betrayed your trust, never had she treated you with anything but love and pride. Hiding things from her is hard, possibly one of the hardest things you have ever done, and you hate how easy it’s becoming to deflect her questions and ignore her comments, because truly, all you want to do on days like this, where your heart hurts and your spirits dwindle, is to go to her and cry. Is that too much to ask? 

“Tell me about this person,” She immediately shuffles around and you picture her in the same living room you’ve grown up reading book after book. If you have to guess, she has her usual coffee mug next to her, an addiction you blame her for passing onto you, and she’ll throw the old knitted blanket she’s so proud of making over her legs.

“Well, his name is Spencer–“

“Spencer is a good name!” She whispers to herself and you smile. 

“It is,” You agree, stretching your legs in front of you and wiggling your toes, glad to be distracted by anything and everything that gets your mind off of last night. “He is a good guy. My favourite customer, actually. That’s uh, that’s how we met.” 

“At the store? That is adorable!” 

“Yeah, he reads… a lot,” That is the understatement of the century. “He was my first client when I opened up, and we kind of became friends and gotten closer. Then I kind of, uh, started apartment sitting for him, whenever he was away at work and we just–“

“Oh, what’s the apartment like?” 

“It’s… beautiful,” You mumble, looking around with a small smile playing on your lips. “The walls are this pretty shade of green and it’s really cozy? Books all around. I like it here.” 

“Here?” Oh no. “Wait, are you at his house right now?” 

“Yeah,” You mumble, picking the lose threads on the socks you borrowed, one blue and the other purple with polkadots. For the life of you, you couldn’t find matching pairs in his sock drawer. “I’ve been here a lot, lately.” 

“Is he out of town?” 

“No.” The silence that follows speaks volume, and for the first time ever, you realise that your mom might not be just worried. She scared, too; for the daughter she saw so happy one day and then moving cities the next. “Mom?” 

“I– I’m happy for you, sweetie,” Her words are kind, but the edge of hesitation is there. “And you’re not going too fast, right? You said you’ve known him since you opened the store, so that’s a year and something, and–“

The assumption that you are repeating the same mistake you’ve make with Josh annoys you. You’re not the same person you used to be, you’re not like that anymore– needy and blinded by love and all the shinny things it brought you. You’ve come a long way since then, and you know your mother recognises that, you do but… but you’re still embarrassed. Embarrassed about who you were. About who you loved. It’s a bit ridiculous, how whenever one of your parents bring him up, you immediately raise your defences, walls coming up so high you can’t even see over the green field of life that awaits you on the other side. 

“Mom,” You wince when your voice comes out a bit too harsh. “Sorry. Mom, I’m fine. We’re… nothing. I’m here because… because a pipe burst in my apartment and he was kind enough to let me stay at his place.” 

“Oh! Oh, I’m sorry sweetie, I didn’t mean to– I mean, I’m glad you have someone to help you out when we’re so far away.”

“I wish you guys were here,” You whisper, slowly getting up to move to the living room. You immediately sit down in the armchair, grabbing your blanket and covering yourself. If you couldn’t hug your mom, this would have to do. “You’d love him.” 

“Yeah? Is he handsome?”

“So handsome,” You giggle, and it’s an instinct, looking to the side table in search of that familiar frame of Spence and his team at a fancy dinner. You love his smile when he’s happy, so wide and taut that it almost looks like he has too much emotion in proportion to his body. “And he’s so kind, mom. He’s kind, and gentle, and oh so smart. A genius, really.”

“Of course he has to be a genius to keep up with you and the hundreds of books you read in a year,” Her reply is comical when you think about it. The idea of Spencer having trouble keeping up with you, and not the other way around, makes you laugh. “So why do you sound so sad, if he’s such a great guy? He’s treating you good, right?”

“He treats me amazingly, it’s just that… we kissed last night.” 

“And it was bad?” Her teasing makes your shoulder relax enough until you are melting onto the chair. “That’s why you’re sad?”

“Mom! No!” Cringing, you hug the throw pillow closer. “It was great. Amazing, even! It’s just that it was our first kiss and then this morning he just… didn’t do it again.” 

“Oooohhh, I see what’s going on,” She chuckles. “You expected him to talk about this and he didn’t, did he?”

“How do you know?” 

“Because you dad was the same way–“

“Oh gross, no, no, no!” You refuse to fall onto this freudian trap. “I’m not dating my dad!” 

“Wait, so you guys are dating? Is this you telling me you have a boyfriend?!”

“No!” Groaning, you know you’re between a rock and a hard place. There is no escape anymore, and you have to come clean. “I don’t know! We kissed, but then he didn’t talk about it this morning and he just left like nothing happened, and and– and yesterday, he didn’t even say he likes me! I’m too old to be on this whole will-they-won’t-they thing, mom! I need verbal confirmation!” 

“Well, have you asked him? Or told him how you feel? Or tried to start a conversation?” 

Squinting at the phone, you huff, incredulous at her insinuation. Her correct insinuation. “Mother! Whose side are you on?”

“Always yours,” Your mother laughs. “Which is why I’m saying talk to him. If he won’t start the conversation, do it yourself. I raised an independent young woman, and this is the perfect time to prove it.” 

You wait a second before sighing. “I’m scared.”

“Of what, sweetie?” 

“Of everything. Of what happened before. Of it happening again.”

“Y/N,” Your mother say and suddenly you think you’re about to get scolded through the phone. “You can’t be afraid of your future because of one mistake you made in the past, sweetheart. I– I’m sorry we didn’t notice. I’m your mother, I should’ve noticed, I should’ve said something, and I’m never going to make that mistake ever again. So I’m saying something now. You haven’t sounded this excited about pretty much anything in a while. You… You sound like how you used to be. But better.” 

“Mom,” There is no one to witness the way your lower lip trembles at her words. Back then, you thought you were doing a good job keeping your parents safe from it all– you thought you were good at hiding the tiredness with makeup and the miserable tone of your voice with sweet high pitched laughter. None of your parents ever talked about what was happening, either. They didn’t ask questions like how your mom does now; they didn’t see past the beautiful necklaces, the pretty dresses, and the important parties. They were blinded, much like you were, with the fake promises of a happiness that never came. And now here you are, scared out of your mind to jump into this again, and yet, everything fades away when your mom guarantees you she’ll never let this happen again. As grown as you are, nothing reassures you more than your mom– your biggest fan and your biggest protector. 

“I’m scared too,” She whispers, like she’s telling you her biggest secret. “I’m scared my baby will hurt again and I won’t be there to help. I’m scared I’ll never be able to visit. I’m scared about a lot of things when it comes to you, sweetie. But I prefer to focus on the silver linings.”

Ah. So that’s where you get if from. “And what are the silver linings here?” 

“You being you,” It’s as simple as that for her. “And that’s all I really want.” 

For about an hour, you two stay on the phone, chitchatting about the randomise things. It’s no secret that you miss New York– the bustle of people, the endless lights, the pollution and its grey hue in the air. God, you miss it a lot, but what you miss the most is the ease of everything. Moving around is quick, whatever you need you just need to turn the corner and a deli will surely have it, and, above all, whenever you want to see your mom and dad, all you have to do is take the express from the Upper east side down to Midtown and you’re there. You’re at the same small apartment you grew up in, the same brick walls, the same loud neighbours, hell, even your room still looked the same as you left it! But that’s not what you need right now, even though you would love to see your old room with such new eyes… what you need is that feeling of warmth spreading through your chest when it dawns on you that you are home.

“Mom, I have to go,” You finally say. “But let’s talk more often, okay? I miss you and dad a lot.” 

“We miss you too, sweetie. I love you.” 

“Love you too,” Hanging up the phone is harder than you expected it to be, but you don’t have a lot of time to suffer in silence. 

Spencer is a man who naturally avoids all forms of technology. He is not the biggest fan of computers and cellphones, and whenever he texts you or calls you, you feel like you’re winning in life. You’re the exception to his firm, firm rule. But for work purposes, he had explained, he had to be reachable at all hours, meaning Spencer has something you haven’t see in ages– a landline phone. When it starts ringing, that nostalgic loud, shriek of a ring that never fails to make you feel like you’re about to have a heart attack. 

Instinctually, you reach for it as if you are the one expecting a call. It would be so easy to just pick up the phone and say Dr. Reid’s residence, how may I help you? Yet, you don’t. You stop yourself just as the tips of your fingers touch the phone and you pull back. This is exactly what happened last time– a box for him and the consequences ending up being yours to face. Since then, you’d like to think you’ve grown smarter, and so you let it go to voicemail. 

“Hello, Dr. Reid, this is Nurse Kenny from Bennington Sanitarium. I’m calling about your mother.” 

Somehow, this still feels like facing the consequences for something you didn’t do. 

—————————————

 In your defence, you did try calling Penelope before panicking. You called her, you called Spencer, you even called the BAU hotline in a feverish desperation to reach your boy wonder. All the hurt from that morning, all the pain and the insecurities immediately fly out the window as soon as the nurse hangs up with a final call me when you can. 

“Fucking hell,” You push your way through the crowd trying to make out of the subway station, everyone rushing through the steps to finally be set free in the loud streets of Washington, and if it was any other day, you might have taken the time to enjoy it. The sun is high, the air is cold, and the smell of coffee reaches you almost instantly. 

But there is not time to be happy when all you can think about is Spencer– his face crumpling up in that way it does whenever it goes uncharacteristically serious, his brows furrowed in worry, his hands frozen in place like the rest of his body. It kills you being the deliverer of bad news. It’s something you have always tried to avoid, ever since you were a tiny little girl and you had to tell your friends that no, you didn’t like My Little Ponies and then later on that also no, you didn’t want to go to that party. The disappointment in their faces always makes you crumble, give in, give up, anything to see them smile again. 

This time around, you can’t do that. You can’t give up, or tell him something he wants to listen to instead. This has to do with his family, and you don’t know anything about his family– so you know they mean a lot to him. Oddly enough, it’s one of his little weird habits that you find the most endearing; for someone that talks a lot, when it comes to the people he loves, Spencer doesn’t talk at all. Maybe this is the price to pay to work at the BAU… when the most despicable and inhumane people in the world know his name, he has to do everything in his power to not let them find out any other. 

“Ma’am, where do you think you are going?!” The security guard approaching you is, to say the least, terrifying. You forget that you have to sign up, so uses to walking in with Officer Kaper and his badge, except this time around, you didn’t have time to call him. You did everything Spencer told you not to do, and he will lecture you on it later, you just know he will, though you don’t really care about it, as long as he talks to you after this, you don’t care about what words come out of his mouth. 

Because sure, it was an accident– listening to the nurse’s message was an accident– but you still did it. There is no hiding it, you did it and my god, you feel terrible about it. Feels like something akin to looking through his phone while he is in the shower, close to searching through his letters at home, similar to reading through the annotations in his books. This is private. It wasn’t enough to be living at his apartment? Sleeping in his bed, stealing his clothes? You also had to go ahead and listen to his private messages? “I’m here to see Dr. Spencer Reid,” You say, lower lip trembling at the thought of a possible confrontation with this man. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, but it’s urgent, I need to see him, I need to talk to Spence, he’s not picking up his phone and–“

“Do you have a form of identification? You have to sign in,” When he takes a step closer, you immediately shrink back, shoulders hunching forward in a tense attempt to cover yourself from his eyes. 

“Of course, yes, I’ll… sign in, but can you– I’m so sorry, but can you call Penelope Garcia? She is the BAU’s tech analyst, I think. She has a lot of computers and–“

“Get in line.” 

It’s an order more than a request, and you consider telling him to fuck off. Your nerves are high and you feel a sense of urgency that you have only felt one time before in your entire life– and that was when you moved to D.C. The thing no one tells you about signing in into the FBI is that is practically impossible. People like to think that all you need is a government issued ID, and technically, they are right– there is nothing else you can provide them other than you driver’s license, but the hoops they have to go through to grant you access add another ten minutes or so onto the wait that is already killing you. 

Until the clerk says, “Here you go, ma’am,” And gives you your visitor’s pass like it’s nothing. 

Like it doesn’t hold the weight of the world for you then, as you shove it into that stupid guard’s face and runs to the far left end of the hallway. At this point, you’ve been at the building enough times to know how to get upstairs, but despite the faint familiarity of it all, you continue to feel displaced and singled out whenever those beige walls surround you. Your oversized cream sweater is like a beacon of light in such a dim office, but it serves its purpose to keep you warm against the powerful air conditioner in there. How Spencer gets anything done under those circumstances, you don’t know, but the shivers travelling up and down your arms are enough to keep you alert and on the look out for the most likely presence to see– your favourite bright pink, bleached blonde geek. 

“Excuse me, can I help you?” He’s wearing a suit, much like the ones Agent Hotchner wears and you have to hold back tears. It’s all very intimidating, knowing that at any point one of these people could find you suspicious and start asking you questions. 

“Uh, y-yeah, I guess you can,” Clearing your throat, your hand squeeze the shoulder of your bag tighter, and when his eyes move to look at the slight movement, you know he’s a part of the BAU. You know he’s reading you like Spence does. “I need to find Dr. Spencer Reid,” Saying his full name still feels odd to you. “Could you maybe tell me where he is?” 

“Oh? Reid?” This expression you know– surprise. “Are you his girlfriend or something?” 

“His girlfr– I uh– I mean, I–“ It takes a moment for you to realise that if you say no, then you have to explain to this stranger what you really are to Dr. Reid, and that is a can of worms you rather not open right now, so instead of being honest like you always try to be, you blush and nod. “I uh, yeah. I am.” 

“Oh wow!” His genuine shock to the news ticks you off a little. It’s not all that crazy that Spencer would have a girlfriend, considering his charming awkwardness and his bright, beautiful smile. “He never mentioned a girlfriend before, I didn’t–“

“Is he here or not?!” You kind of shriek, widening your eyes in hopes to make him pity you enough to move on with this a bit faster. 

“No, he isn’t. I think his team just left for the tarmac, they got a case in this morning and–“ 

His voice fades to the background easily, your anxiety peaking through with that annoying ringing in your ear. Spencer left to another state and didn’t call you. Logically, you know that his job and his feelings for you, however good or bad they might be, are not connected. Logically, it is easy to make that distinction. However, you are not a logical person all the time. You are not a genius like he is, and sometimes, you let your heart lead; you let your emotions take over like a tsunami inside of you, crashing and crashing and crashing, until you are nothing but a crumble of what you once was. 

You are ready, too. Ready to give up and delay the inevitable until the nurse can reach him directly, until you’re not the one having to panic, until he can deal with this personally. Consider it an addictive habit of a you of many moons ago, a Y/N who let things go to protect herself and avoid unnecessary confrontation. Confronting Josh was never the best option, so you had to come up with strategies. Plans, schemes, lies. You hate that you’ve become good at those, hate that all the work you’ve done to leave those behind is now at risk, but something deep inside of you can’t let this go. 

Something that you know very well is the need to make Spencer proud. The need to be there for him after all the times he was there for you. It’s your time to be the hero. 

“Call Hotchner.” 

There is a harshness in your voice that is very much planted there. The same goes for the twitch of your brows, the bite to the inside of your cheek, the averting gaze to the floor. It’s time to tell the story the profiler wants to read, and you double down when you let out an exasperated sigh, pushing your disheveled hair back. “I need you to call Hotchner and get Spencer back here right now.” 

You shouldn’t want to laugh with how he fumbles with his phone, quickly dealing the boss’ number, but all amusement is gone when he mumbles something about an Spencer’s girlfriend and passes the phone to you. “He wants to talk to you.” 

“Oh god… hello?” You say, voice wobbling a little. 

“Miss Y/L/N?” In the background, you can hear some chatter and nothing else. Are they in the jet already? Have you failed? “Is everything alright? Why are you in the office?”

“I am truly sorry, sir,” You gulp down, glancing at the man in a silent request for some privacy. “But I need to speak to Spencer. He is not answering his phone and it’s an emergency. Penelope wasn’t answering either, so I thought I could come find her, but SSA Greenberg asked me if I needed help and–“

“Is that why you told him you were Spencer’s girlfriend?” 

“Family emergency trumps everything,” You explain, the heavy weight of you guilt settling in. For some reason, you think you got Spencer in trouble. 

“Miss Y/L/N, is this about your case? We explained that we would have cases alongside–“

“Sir, it’s his mother. I don’t know the details, but there was a call and they asked him to call them back as soon as possible.” 

The eery silence that follows has you holding your breath. You are not sure how much his team knows about the intricacies of his personal life, but they surely know more than you do, considering the immediate rustle you hear on the other side of the line.

“We’ve just arrived at the tarmac. I’m sending send Reid and Garcia back to help us from there,” Agent Hotchner says, voice dripping with authority. “Wait for him there. Tell Officer Kaper he will be relived as soon as Reid arrives.” 

“Office Kaper is… not here.”

“…We will discuss this later. They should be arriving in twenty.” 

“Okay. Okay, good,” You breathe out loudly. “Thank you, sir.” 

Once the call ends, once you give SSA Greenberg his phone back and evade all the questions he has about you and Spencer, once you push down the wave of relief that almost makes you fall to the ground… you make your way to Penelope’s office. You need credentials to walk into her lair, it’s not as simple as just opening a door– she is the gatekeeper of all things confidential, and you know not all people are authorised to walk in. The fact that this is the same woman who has invited you over for wine night and got so drunk she couldn’t stop talking about the one time she walked in on Morgan showering is actually insane. The Penelope you know can’t keep a secret for her life, but then again, this is not Penelope’s office. This is Garcia’s lair, and you need to remember that these are fundamentally two different people. Just like Spence and Dr. Reid. JJ and Jennifer. Prentiss and Emily. All of them had managed a level of separation that seemed practically impossible to you, leaving work outside of their homes in a perfectly packed box by the door. It makes you wonder, though, if when he walks out the door to go to the office, he leaves you behind in a box inside. 

Compartmentalising is not something you did well. You tried, back when you first arrived in Washington, at the recommendation of your therapist, but you seemed to struggle more than normal. At your core, you believe in honesty, in transparency, and despite everything you’ve been through, you never gave up on yourself, on your core self, not the self you’ve created to appease Josh. Though you did forget about her, for a while. Distracted by your new life, you missed your old self like you miss old high school friends; remembering the good old times but still doing nothing to reach out. 

Just like you told your mom, you’re scared it will happen again. That you’ll lose yourself in the beautiful world of Spencer Reid and lose sight of what matters– yourself. You might have learned this way later in life than you should have, but a relationship is a two way road and now you know that. Now, you want to know that, you want Spencer to show you that. There is a kind of romance in how he leaves books for you to read next to the armchair, a certain indication that he knows what you like. A type of care in how he buys the shampoo and conditioner you mentioned you liked one time almost eight months ago. This is where you are trying to meet him at, ordering the rare books he’s so desperate after through your unique contacts. Making him breakfast before work. Unfolding the corners of his books. Even though you express yourself better with words than actions, you don’t miss the way his eyes sparkle a little extra whenever he sees his coffee mug filled up for him first thing in the morning or how he always pretends to be caught off guard when you bring him a surprise book from the store. Spencer can read you like he has been born to do so, and yet, he still played along. For you, he’d always play along. 

Which is why, when they found you sitting on the floor next to Garcia’s office, he plays along. “Are you more comfortable there than sitting on my desk?” 

His casual tone shocks you a little bit. Scrambling to your feet, you meet him and Penelope halfway. “Spence!” You gasp, hands stretching out to touch him, feel him, ground him, anything. You just need to make sure he is paying attention, the hands on his biceps squeezing it slightly. “Spence, you need to call your mom! Something happened, and I tried calling you guys but you weren’t picking up, so I came here to tell you that you need to call her, you–“

“Y/N,” Spence whispers in that way that makes your heart speeds up. His eyes are stuck to yours, shinning with something you’ve seen before, something you’ve seen last night. “Y/N, my mom is okay. Hotch told me to call her as soon as he sent us back, she’s okay, everything’s been handled. Are you okay? Sweetheart, you’re sweating…” 

Garcia’s gasp falls onto deaf ears as you and Spencer lose yourself in each other. “I was nervous,” You mumble, trying to pull away and dab at your forehead, but he’s on it. His hands catch you by the elbow and gently bring you closer into what slowly turns into a hug. “I’m so sorry, Spence, I didn’t mean to listen to the message, I swear I didn’t, I was just there and the machine–“

“I know,” He nods his head distractedly and gently wipes you clammy skin with the wrist of his sweater. “I know, Y/N, you don’t have to apologise. Thank you for coming all the way here to look for me just to tell me to call my mom. I truly appreciate it.”

“Of course I would,” There is something building between you two, a tension very familiar to you now that you’ve been watching it pile on for the past couple of weeks. 

For Penelope, though, it is certainly news. 

“OH MY GOD!” 

Snapped out of the trance of those honeyed eyes, you turn to look at your blonde friend with a pale complexion. “Pen, no–“ 

“OH MY GOD, YOU TWO BONED!” 

“What?! No! Absolutely not!” Spencer takes a step back from you like he’s suddenly troubled by thought of being that close to you, and you can’t really hide how your heart breaks a little at that. 

“Yeah… apparently absolutely not,” You repeat, coming back down to your harsh reality since the bubble burst.

“What– What just happened?” She utters, but you don’t really give her a chance to develop her line of thought, grabbing the access card from her hand and swiping it through the reader to unlock her door. “Wait, wait, what–“

“I’ll stay here with Pen,” You say without looking back at Spencer. Your job here is done and until Officer Kaper can come pick you up, you know they won’t let you leave the building. “I’ll call Mike for a ride, so don’t worry about me going back alone. I–“

“He’s not here?” Spencer asks, looking around with that adorable confused frown of his. “Wait, Y/N, did you come here by yourself?! Didn’t we talk about–“

“No Spencer, we didn’t! We didn’t talk about a lot of fucking things, and then you left off this morning like you didn’t want to talk about it and, and, and I was panicking, okay?! You didn’t pick up the phone and I’m a big enough girl to take the subway alone!” Your voice certainly raises enough to have people looking at you two, and your cheeks fire up in embarrassment. You are causing a scene at his workplace, and in your opinion, that is unacceptable. Gulping, you look down, tugging Penelope into her sacred space and closing the door behind you. “I’m sorry. That was out of line. I’m really sorry.” 

“Y/N, wait–“ But the door closes midway through his sentence and despite him having access to enter, he knows better than to press on a sore spot. 

The worst part is that you kind of want him to. And you hate that part of yourself that wants such a reactive behaviour from this peaceful man. Spencer does plenty to show you he cares, even if he does it in his own quiet, subtle way, and that is enough for you. Fuck, that should be enough for you. Yet somehow, nothing seems to shut up that voice in your head telling you that yes, he is enough… but you aren’t. In your overthinking mind, you know that you are too average for Spencer. You’d never be able to keep up with him, with his spectacular brain and his humble attitude. At best, all you offer him are books, some observations here and there, and a warm body to hug at night. At worst, you’re a burden to a man who already carries the entire world on his shoulder. 

“You two?!” Penelope’s dramatic gasp is enough to put a pause on your pity party. “Boy genius and you?!” Scoffing, you sit down on the chair she pulled for you. “I know… sounds ridiculous, right? I mean, the man is a genius and I’m… well-read at best.” 

“Oh, no. No, no, no, no, we’re not going there,” Barely does she know you’re already there, that you’ve been there this entire morning. “What happened? Last time we talked, it was a crush and nothing else! And now you and boy wonder are ‘sweetheart’ing each other and the forehead kiss was just so adorable and–“ 

“We kissed.” 

The way it comes out to her, unlike how it did with your mom, is a confession rather than a posing issue. It makes your heart race and your sad face lifts for a second, enough to let a giggle escape. This is what friends are for, and you are happy to be living through this again. 

“YOU WHAT?”

“Pen, don’t shout!” You whisper, looking at the door like it’s about to slam open at any second. “What if someone hears?” “Would that matter?” She laughed. “You basically told the biggest gossip in the FBI that you are Spencer’s girlfriend.” 

“Oh my god,” You groan. Slowly getting comfortable in your chair, you pull your legs up to your chest and let your head fall on your knee dramatically. “He’s going to hate me.” 

“Now why on Earth do you think that? I’m pretty sure Spencer has had wet dreams of you calling him your boyfriend.” 

“Penelope!” It’s suddenly way too hot in her office, your entire body flushing instead of just your cheeks. “You are wrong, by the way… He had a whole dinner planned, you know? He was turning his apartment into the perfect date when I got back home, and he was cooking and he looked so good, Pen, so, so, so good and we just– I mean, it just happened! And then…”

Penelope is holding onto your every word, perfectly painted lips biting on her fluffy pink pen. “And then…?” Her wiggly brows are a dead giveaway of where her dirty, dirty mind is going. 

“And then, just as we get to the room…” You repeat, leaning forward as if you’re about to tell her the biggest secret of your life, only to deflate right after. “He pulls away, kisses me on the forehead, and goes to sleep.” 

“No!”

“Oh yeah,” You sigh, body crumbling in a defeated lump of limbs. “And then this morning? Nothing. Nada. Not even a peck on the lips as a ‘good morning’.”

“Oh wow,” She says after a moment. You find some comfort in how she seems as wordless as you were early today. “Oh wow, that’s… wow. It’s impressive, but it’s not shocking. Still, it’s… wow.” 

“Not shocking?” You shriek. “It’s very shocking!” 

“Oh, sweet pumpkin,” There is so much comfort in the clicks and clacks of her heels when she gets up and comes to give you a hug. Admittedly, Penelope’s hugs are much like one of a mother; warm, caring, and all encompassing. It’s enough to heal wounds you didn’t even know you had, like she is searching your soul the same way she searches the web for evidence– with expertise. “I sometime forget you’ve never known little boy genius when he was, well, little. Our pretty boy over there is not… the best with people.” 

“That’s mean, Pen,” You sigh, frowning a little. He might not say much about his feelings, and sure, sometimes Spencer is quite reserved to his own mind in a way that makes you think he assumes people won’t really understand what’s going on up there, but never has Spencer made you feel uncomfortable or bad about yourself. Saying he is ‘not the best with people’ actually upset you because despite a couple of hiccups here and there, Spencer is great with you. He remembers everything you say you like or dislike, he cares about your opinions even though sometimes you feel like you’re just saying the obvious, he is gentle with his touches and hugs. “Spencer is amazing, he’s always so careful with everything and everyone, and he’s so kind, and gentle, and considerate. He’s just too in his head sometimes, but that’s okay! So am I, so is everyone, you know?”

“It’s so cute how you’re quick to jump to his defence,” She teased, shaking you a little by the shoulders. “I know he’s all of that, trust me. I would die for Spencer– no, that’s too easy. I would kill for Spencer, and I actually almost did once! And–“

“Wait, what?!”

“And what I’m trying to say is not that he is a bad person, but that he can get a bit awkward. Try to think from his perspective, Y/N, the kid went to college when he was 14. All those crazy life experiences we had in college, he didn’t. And then he joined the FBI, and time just… got away.” 

“Are you trying to tell me Spencer Reid is a virgin?” You gasp, mouth hung open in surprise, because from the little action you two had going last night, you would not have betted on that. 

“God, no… or at least I don’t think so, but what I am trying to tell you, my cute bookworm, is that his experience is… limited to a couple of people. Very different people. One of his exes was a famous actress kind of people. They did long distance every single time kind of people.” 

Little by little, the engines in your brain start turning, and things start making sense. “He never… had a proper relationship?” Somehow, this makes it feel like all that weight that is sitting on your chest, the pressure of figuring everything out by yourself, the racing thoughts that can’t leave you alone… it’s all gone. All easing up in a lighter mist of confusion and sadness. 

Her curls bounce around her face when she shakes her head. “Not that we’ve known. So just… god, please give him a chance. He’s a good egg, a perfect egg, even! Just a bit confused with his own brain and, and, and he’s probably wondering what’s the proper procedure from here on out! He’s probably confused and wondering what to do and– and he’s so happy, Y/N. This morning, he couldn’t stop smiling. He didn’t tell  

Morgan to shut up when he made sex jokes. He didn’t hog the coffee machine. It was like he was in his own little world and it was so cute to see him finally acting like the boy he should have been all along. I don’t want to see that go away.” 

Penelope Garcia has a tell that you are pretty sure she doesn’t know about. It usually peek through her desperate rambles that you love so much, squeezing her voice out of her until she’s barely speaking. You know she’s self-conscious about her rambles, the amount of times she has apologised to you enough proof of it, but when she starts feeling guilty, like she’s staying something she shouldn’t have been, Penelope’s voice dies down, to the point that her mouth is moving but no sound is coming out.  

“Pen…” 

“I know you like him,” The intensity of her eyes behind her glasses is enough to have you looking away. “I know you do, you like him so much that you broke your security protocol and ran to the FBI to tell him that he needed to call his mom. Please don’t give up on him.”

“I’m not,” You whisper back, shaking your head so fast your neck hurts a little. “Pen, I’m not giving up on him, I don’t think I ever could. I’m just… insecure. I understand Spence’s experience is unique to him, but mine is unique to me, and I think we’re both in the learning process. I just wish he would’ve talked to me, you know? Spencer kissed me like there was no tomorrow yesterday and this morning he didn’t even acknowledge it. What if he doesn’t want to do it anymore? What if he changed his mind? You know, his brain works too fast and he could’ve thought about all the future scenarios in which this goes wrong and–“

“You know, sometimes you two sound so much alike that it’s scary. I’ll tell you the same thing I told him, get your head out of your ass, it’s not a hat.” 

“Hey!”

“Your intrusive thoughts are shitty!” 

“That is a really weird way to put it–“

“What are you two talking about?” Turning to look at Spencer, you’re surprised to see him all packed up with his satchel hanging by his side. You deflate a little at how ready he is to leave, thinking he’s going back to the tarmac to meet up with the team wherever they are, but he beats you to the punch. “Y/N, ready to go home?” 

“Oh,” You scramble to get up, grabbing your bag and your visitor’s pass and then nodding. “Yeah, I guess. Are you coming with?”

“Yeah, I told Hotch I’d be working from home in case my mom’s nurse called again,” He gives you that tight-lipped smile you love so much and you kind of swoon. 

“Alright,” You give Penelope a hug goodbye and from then on, you find yourself in the longest stretch of silence you’ve ever been before. 

The tension is there, taut enough that you feel like your stomach is being pulled out of your body every time he sucks in a breath a bit too hard or opens his mouth just to close it again. Every time, you think he’s going to initiate the chat, and, every time, he doesn’t. It disappointment after disappointment, and by the time you two make it back to his place, yo can’t keep it in anymore. “Spence,” You call softly, letting him open the door the the building without rush and following him inside. As per usual, he’s quick to let you lead, gesturing politely for you to go up first. “Spence, we need to talk about last ni– Abigail, what are you doing here?”

You’re not even at the top of the stairs when you see her, all sweaters and ponytails standing by your door. “Oh, hi boss!” Her joke makes you cringe a little, but you smile nonetheless. You must’ve done something to alert Spencer of how uncomfortable you actually are, his hand sneaking to grab yours as he squeezes past you to stand one step above, body almost covering yours completely. “Oh. Hi.” 

Her tone change is obvious even to your layman ears, and you squeeze Spencer’s hand in nervousness. “Abigail, right?” He asks, a small smile playing on his lips as if he’s trying to be nice, though the squint in his eyes tells a whole other story. “Good to see you again. Did you move in okay?” 

“Yeah,” The way she moves her head to the side, trying to get a glimpse of you, has red flags raised all up in  your head. “All moved in and ready to start work on Monday!”

“I’m happy to hear you’re excited, Abigail!” You reply with a forced chuckle, climbing the extra step to stand side by side with Spence. Your hands are intertwined behind his back, his fingers playing with yours, and if it’s to keep you calm or himself, you don’t know. “I’m excited for you to start at the store, too. Is there anything you need, though? I know I said I’d send you a starter email and a draft of a schedule, but I just haven’t had the time today. I’ll work on it as soon as I can!”

“Oh, no, no, no hurry!” Once she can see you, it’s like her whole persona changes. She’s bubblier when she’s talking to you, shoulders less tense and voice less tense. “I was just coming here to bring you this. It got delivered to my apartment by accident, but it has your name on it.” 

From behind her back, she pulls a brown package. It’s small and thin, and it doesn’t seem so have any logo on it. “Y/N, are you expecting something?” Spencer whispers, eyes not leaving Abigail’s hand and for a second you let yourself panic enough to believe she’s carrying a bomb. It felt like she was carrying a bomb. Like it was going to blow up and your entire life, your entire re-construed life with Spencer by your side, and everything would soon come crumbling down. 

“N-No,” You stutter back and your body goes frigid cold when Abigail takes a step forward to you two, arms stretched out to give you the package. “Oh my god, no, no, no one knows I’m–“

Quickly grabbing the box, Spencer wastes no time in getting you inside the apartment. “Thank you so much for bringing this, Abigail, but we really have to get home. As promised, you’ll hear from Y/N soon on that starter email. Have a great rest of your day!”

“Wait, I wanted to talk to Y/N about–“ The loud slamming of the door drowns her words out. 

Before even looking your way, Spencer is on the phone. “Hotch,” He breathed out, eyes wide in that crazed way that you’ve only see once before, in your shop when he had his gun out. “She found Y/N.” 

You know you can’t call this an ending, not when you two never even had a begging…

“We have to relocate her.” 

But it surely feels like one. 

---------------------------------------

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[riskyraiker]

Sex pollen

TFP!Optimus Prime x Reader

Everything has been going fine with team Prime since no decepticons were causing chaos and MECH has been quiet as well. The day was supposed to go well, if a pod of some kind wouldn't have landed on earth. Ratchet detected it first on the computer, notifying Optimus about it. Bee was with Raf, Arcee with Jack and Bulkhead with Miko so Y/N was the only one left to tag along. 

“What is the origin of the pod?” You ask Optimus with a raised brow walking through the groundbridge, seeing forestry afterwards. “The origin wasn't listed on the signal, and we don't have any visual of it yet.” Optimus replies and looks for the signal. Walking around, being wary of any decepticons, you spot something. A pod like the signal said. “Optimus, i've found the pod. It isn't opened yet but it has no insignia on it. Should I open it?” You commlink and receive a negative answer from Optimus. “Wait for me, Y/N. It's never clear what's in there.” You wait for Optimus, following his instructions until you hear a click. It was the pod, it's making noise, is it…opening? And POOF some form of gas hits your faceplate and you inhale some of it in shock. “Y/n what happened?” Optimus arrived at the scene, checking on you. “The pod” cough “opened and exploded some gas all over me and right on my faceplate, inhaled some of it.” You cough and hold onto Optimus so you won't fall. Once your state has stabilized, Optimus grabs the pod and contacts Ratchet for a groundbridge. 

“Old friend, would you check on Y/n they inhaled whatever came out of the pod.” Optimus asks, leaving with the pod, taking it away from the others. Sigh “Well come on Y/n. Let's check your stats.” You were about to walk over to the berth in the medbay until everything felt off, it was unbearably hot and your fans went on, working on 60%. “Ratch..I don't feel so great. Like I'm overheating and so much more” Ratchet knew immediately something was off when you froze and your fans were humming quite loudly. He's already by your side, helping you to the berth. He scans you, noticing something was off in your tanks. He checks everything possible until he finds the source of your overheating. “Not good.” Ratchet mumbles and turns around. “Y/n you need to be quarantined for a bit. Go to your berthroom for now, and don't let anyone in! You inhaled some hortuan gas, it makes your processor overwork your frame and crave…interfacing.” Ratched explains more about it for example the so-called “heat” will end if you empty your tanks with interfacing, antide or on its own, which is a month. The medical facts leave you shocked. He shooed you away and got to work on how to solve it. Goddamnit! You were unlucky at least for now.

Retreating to your berthroom, you lay down and try to relax, hoping your cooling system won't overwork itself. After a while you find out it's useless to even try to relax, your processor is now running through every possible situation where you're interfacing with somebody. God, it would be nice. Lubricant was leaking now between your legs, your plates were not able to keep it hidden. If this was the effects of a few earth hours how would the rest of the day be or possibly the whole week? Others were informed of your state and how you wouldn't be able to leave your berthroom for a few days or longer until Ratchet figured out how to stop the side effects. The bots brought you energon time to time and talked with you, except Optimus. He was busy doing research and anything else on his datapad. He was worried about you, of course, he was since he's the team leader, but this was something else. He wanted to help you, to do something but he isn't a doctor of any kind. 

The first day wasn't that bad but after a few days? You're like a zombie with only one thought, craving brains except you were craving sex. A lot of it. And the only bot who you thought about was Optimus. His beautiful hips that you could hold tightly when thrusting into him or his neck cabling that you would bite into. You had enough, you won't wait for any form of antidote or the heat to pass. Walking out of the room searching for a specific door, groaning and rubbing your thighs together while walking. Knocking on the one specific door you hear pedsteps and once the door opens, you check. It's Optimus with a quite surprised look. “Y/n shouldn't you be in quarantine?” He asks while you breathe heavily, staring at the Prime. It wasn't long until you launched yourself straight against Optimus, pushing him down, while the door closed automatically. “Let me have you, please?” You beg still breathing heavily and already grinding against the bot below you. “I've been thinking of nothing else except you. You, you, and you full of..me. Let me have you.” it wasn't a question anymore, more like a demand. If the Prime was against this he could overpower you most likely. Your lips crash against his and your glossa slides right through. Your servos grab onto the sides of Optimus’ faceplate, pulling him closer. You get more aggressive with your movements, grinding harder against Optimus and tugging his helm closer if that's even possible. The making out continues while you lift him up somehow and carry him over to the berth. “Open up, open up, open the plates, please!” You growl against Optimus’ lips and you can hear how his interface plating opens, how lubricant leaks all over the berth. “Oh love, can I taste you?” You ask patiently even though you can barely hold back yourself and your actions. Optimus gasps and takes a moment to answer “You may. Please do.” Even if Optimus is losing his composure he still is polite as always. 

You dive in between the Prime’s legs and start devouring the wet valve, not having enough so you suck on his external node. The stimulation makes Optimus clench his thighs and wrap them around your head, making him groan. Sticking your tongue into the wet warmth, you can't help but moan at the taste. The lubricant gushing and squirting everywhere, as you eat the Prime out, gives the air a sour odor. You felt like you were…high? It's the gas or the fact that the Prime was holding your helm between his peds. “Ugh! Ray, please do not stop, I'm about to- nghh!” Optimus groaned and like on command your intake is filled with cum. You eat the mech out a little more since you don't want to waste any single drop. That taste is so heavenly and you need more of it. The click of your own interface plating opening makes Optimus glance at you only to be bit gently on his neck cables. The stimulation on his cables distracted him so much that he didn’t realize you were pushing in, the sudden stretch in his valve made him moan and throw his head back while you leaned your helm against Optimus’ shoulder bottoming out. The moment your spike has completely vanished into the Prime’s warmth, he shrieks. Your spike touched Optimus’ ceiling node perfectly, while you were loving the sounds Optimus made he was embarrassed and covered half of his face with his battle mask. “No. Take it off. Now.” You growl and start thrusting hard right into the mech's ceiling node. You can hear the sound of the mask deactivating and you grin that lust-filled smile until you kiss the prime again. The clanging of metal continues as you two make out, both close again to overloading. The moment you reach your climax, a few seconds after Optimus, you pull out, flip the Prime over, and push back in. You growl of pleasure (Fucking animal…) and pull the smokestacks located on the Prime’s back, which surprises Optimus who gasps at the sudden force. Now his back is pressed against your chest you nibble at the sensitive cabling, you remained the same since you walked through the door, while Optimus’ act has completely fallen. His calm and strong mentality was broken to nothing except moaning and whining since his legs shaking with too much tension and hips meeting your thrusts. It takes a while until your thrusts and stimulation make both of you overload, but this time Optimus is starting to get overstimulated while you continue. “R-Ray..Agh! Too much.” Optimus whines as you tug harder at his smokestacks. “I assume Ratchet tol- ngh! He told you about my condition and how it stops. Well, I’m no- ahh. I’m not stopping until my tanks are empty and spilled into you, sweetspark.” You whisper into his audio receptor and bite the little piece of it. Optimus knew that you wouldn’t stop, driven by the bio-gas in your system so he tried his best to endure the overstimulation, but after his fourth orgasm, he couldn’t bear it anymore. You hear the whines and pleas of stopping, but you’re so close to emptying your tanks. “One more, sweetspark. One more.” And you go on with deep yet painfully slow. As your climax arrives the seventh time, Optimus overloads one last time which is his fifth. While Optimus has tears bubbling in his optics and letting dry away, you’re gasping for air. Your tanks are empty so the effect of the gas goes away, and the moment you become conscious, you tense up. Seeing the prime in such shape and you were the one who caused it made you feel awful until the Prime understood the state you were in he talked you back to reality. “You do know I could’ve stopped you if I didn’t want it.” The words almost went through your other audio receptor until your lips met Optimus’. He kissed you to bring you back of your head. 

The two of you clean up and head out of the berthroom to inform Ratchet of your well-being. You both also know if you tell Ratchet he will know what you did. While walking over to the main area Ratchet does recognize Optimus’ walk pattern so he starts to talk. “Optimus I’m almost done with the antidote for Ray.” You cringe in embarrassment and cover your face while Optimus surprisingly chuckles. “About that old friend. We’ve come to inform you of Ray’s well-being.” Ratchet heard Optimus just fine, but does his research a few seconds before turning around, spotting Optimus and… you. “Ray. Don’t tell me you did what I think you did.” Ratchet whispers. You snicker and blurb it out “I couldn’t handle it, marched over to Optimus’ room, and finished what I started!” Ratchet just groans since he is close to finishing his project on the antidote. “No wonder Bumblebee mentioned metal clanging in the hallway.” The medic mumbled just loud enough for you both to hear. While you laughed at the new statement Optimus was the one embarrassed this time. “I hope it was just the clanging he heard.” You whisper and snicker once again.

--------------------------------------

AN: This is my first time posting smut on tumblr SO if you want to read more do go on AO3 and there is more of fics like this one!

My AO3 profile:

https://archiveofourown.org/users/risky_writer/works

[remlionheart]

can i request a megumi x reader fluff >_<! so like while on a mission due to a cursed technique of the curse the reader gets turned into a child so megumi has to take care of them and yeah they’re dating BUT NOTHING WEIRD JUST MEGUMI TAKING CARE OF CHILD READER PLEASE 😭😭

not a lot, just forever...

intertwined, sewn together...

♡‧₊˚ ⋅ hi lovely! i sat with this idea for a few days thinking of a way to bring it to life because it’s honestly just so cute and the more i thought about meg trying to interact with a child, the more my heart melted. ((i also realized that this is the very first sfw thing i’ve ever posted on here (whoops lol)), it's more of a drabble than a full-fledged fic, but i hope you like it anyway ♡ 0.9k words. the fluffiest of fluff. lemme know whatcha think, luv you ‧₊˚ ⋅♡

⋆˙⟡♡₊˚⊹.

Megumi had watched the curse hit you. Watched the way your body went limp after you'd fallen to the ground. He'd held you in his arms, struggling to shove past all of the worst-case scenarios that had invaded his mind before scooping you up and getting you to a safe place while Yuuji and Nobara worked on defeating the curse user who’d done this to you.

He was grateful that you were okay – beyond grateful that you were still with him and somehow mostly unscathed, but...

He never expected to see you like this. He hadn’t even heard of the curse that had struck you until now and the effects of it were... surreal, to say the least. He knew this version of you from old pictures he'd seen and stories that you’d told him over the last year you'd been dating, but he never in his life thought that he'd one day be standing face-to-face with 7-year-old you…

"Hey," your voice was impossibly light, your tiny hand tugging at the sleeve of his uniform. "What's your name?"

The wheels in his head weren't just spinning anymore, they were fully lifted off of the ground and exploding into the air as he looked back at you, desperately searching your face to try and figure out if you were still there or if he was really, truly in the presence of child-you who hadn't met him yet.

He cleared his throat, doing his best to sound calmer than he felt. If he was this disoriented, he couldn't imagine what you must be feeling, especially at the age you suddenly were.

"My name's Megumi." He said placidly, crouching down to become eye level with you. "And you?"

You giggled, the most innocent, wholesome giggle he thought he'd ever heard as you bashfully introduced yourself to him.

"That's a pretty name." He soothed, silently racking his brain for a way to explain why you needed to come with him.

He'd never really been great with kids, even when he was one. At this age, his dad had already abandoned him and he was being faced with the crippling reality that he was going to be sold to the Zenin clan. He'd been forced to grow up at such a rapid rate that the adults around him had never bothered to speak sweetly to him or treat him how they should've. He wasn't allowed to simply be a first grader with first grader problems, he was expected to be a man.

Though he might not have not known the perfect way to interact with you, the longer he stared back into your big wonderous gaze, he realized that he certainly knew how not to act from the people that had failed him. He couldn't undo the past for himself, but what he could do was be the adult that he wished he would've had at 7.

"Hey," he finally said, flashing you the steadiest smile he could manage, "You don't like..." He put a finger to his chin, scrunching his face for emphasis as he pretended to think. "Strawberry mochi, do you?"

Stars filled your eyes while your small hands clapped together. "That's my favorite!" You squealed, completely enthralled by the fact that he'd somehow managed to guess it on the very first try.

"Really?" He asked, trying to mimic your excitement, "Mine too. Do you wanna go get some? My friend Shoko has tons of it."

You nodded emphatically; all 120 centimeters of you ready to run there though you had no idea which way to go yet.

"Alright," Megumi said, "But you gotta do me a favor and stay close to me until we get there, okay?"

Thankfully, he'd been able to move you to a secluded area before the curse had turned back the hands of time, but he still wasn't going to take any chances. He summoned his dogs, biting back a sincere smile when he heard you cheer, "Puppies!"

They were equally as ecstatic to see you too though. Both of them wagging their tails and leaving slobbery kisses across your face while you laughed, the two of them acting as if they really were puppies and not deadly shikigami.

He gave you a couple of minutes to pet them before redirecting their focus and reaching for your hand. Both dogs immediately got into formation, guarding you while you began your journey back to Shoko's office.

"So – Megumi."

"Yeah?"

"Ummm," you sputtered, trying to think of what question you wanted to ask him first. "What's your favorite color?"

"Blue."

"Favorite number?"

"Seventeen."

"Favooorriitteeeee.... food?"

"Anything that pairs well with ginger."

You made a face like you'd tasted something bitter, shaking your head as you giggled at his response. "What abouttt yourrr....favorite... person?"

He smiled to himself, squeezing your tiny hand in his. "Well..." He said, pausing to look down at you. "I think right now, I'd have to say it's you."

"Me?" You beamed, "Really?!"

"Always."

⋆˙⟡♡₊˚⊹.

[jacevelaryonswife]

You Really Got Me | Professor!Michael Gavey x student!fem reader

summary: With a perfect CV, Michael Gavey was on top of the fucking world and mediocrity has never seemed so inherent to you before. The new Professor of Number Theory awakened inappropriate feelings that could become risky if they were reciprocal.

a/n: well, it was quite difficult to write this because I’m not familiar with the Oxford environment and I hope that my research has made this story as credible as possible.

tags: slight slow burn, smut, p in v sex, power imbalance, swearing.

word count: 5.7k

ewanverse masterlist | next part

Michael Gavey was... many things.

A lot of things, definitely.

Michael, or rather, Professor Gavey now, aroused conflicting feelings in you.

Admiration, fear, fascination and another whirlwind was felt when it was the new and brilliant Professor of Numbers Theory. He took over the discipline of a dear veteran and great name of mathematics in Oxford, his advisor in the master’s and PhD. Obviously great expectation formed around it, around him, wondering if he would be able to overcome the grandeur of his predecessor.

And apparently he was causing a certain commotion with his above-average intelligence and his eccentric personality.

Obviously you started a search for the CV of your next professor and the finding was surprisingly extraordinary. Speaker of the 2010 class, several projects carried out, postgraduate (also in Oxford), articles published in journals with high impact factor and experience at McKinsey & Company for 2 years.

Michael Gavey was on top of the fucking world and mediocrity had never seemed so inherent to you before.

Saying that you were intimidated by the first contact with him was an understatement- you were fucking terrified. The rumors of an alleged above-average intelligence proved to be untrue. Above average? No shit, he was far beyond everything you experienced. Your eyes didn’t dare to move away from him and the painting during the following hours, too fascinated by what was happening in your fucking front. You felt a current of pure mathematics run through your body and camp in your brain, illuminating all the neurons.

What the fuck had just happened?

You learned that every class he taught was a learning experience rarely experienced before. The passion he conveyed when teaching overflowed in all his expressions so intensely that it made you orbit around him slowly.

And that was the beginning of a problem.

A big problem.

But you hadn’t noticed yet.

“If I ever thought I was smart, forget it! Michael Gavey is the epitome of everything I want to be,” your good friend Miranda said before taking a sip of her latte.

“I know right? Every class I feel that my brain will explode,” you said while leaning your head against the table, “but I can understand what it teaches, at least a good part of things. I know I already have an advisor and our work is almost published, but I think I’m thinking of getting out of Algebra and trying something with Gavey,” you looked at her.

“Woah, are you fucking sure? I mean- if that’s what you really want, that’s fine, but I think it’s too mind blowing for me,” she said.

“For me too, but it’s fucking interesting, I really want to do at least one research in this area.”

“... hmm,” Miranda smirked, humming.

“What?”

“Nothing,” she superficially drank her coffee, “hmm.”

“Cut the bullshit,” you complained as you looked at her impatiently.

“It’s nothing, it’s just that from a certain angle he’s quite cute,” she said in a thin voice.

“Who? Gavey?”

“Yeah. He’s... different from the guys you usually date or are interested in but he’s not bad looking,” she explained.

“Come on, do you really think I’m interested in him? He's our professor and a big nerd to boot!” The last thing wasn’t totally the end of the world.

“And? It’s not like students and professors have never fucked before, although I don’t think he’d risk that much, he seems to be quite methodical,” she said calmly, “and most importantly, he’s clever as fuck and that automatically makes him sexy, if he’s not an idiot.”

That was absurd, you weren’t interested in Michael Gavey!

... right?

You thought about it for the rest of the day.

Was Michael Gavey, in addition to his bestial intellect, physically attractive?

Suddenly, you began to notice how his lips were perfectly drawn and pink as he explained the most beautiful things you had ever heard in those years at Oxford. Damn it. It was Miranda’s fault, obviously. You tried to convince yourself of that while elaborating a way to approach you about the possibility of a research project without embarrassing yourself. Obviously you tried to impress him before that, answering questions whenever possible and redoing all the examples and notes he passed around. When your own mind couldn’t assimilate some details, you looked for him to ask questions and oh Lord, he was more than attentive.

The proximity also made you realize how blue his eyes were under the glasses, and how his hands were- no, wait, what were those veins? Those long and thin fingers? You know what they say about guys with big hands... And his fluffy dirty blonde hair and those soft and ugly sweaters, his height, his waist-

DAMN IT MIRANDA!

That afternoon you gathered the courage to introduce the subject after your classmates left, using your best words to make a good impression.

“I have some interesting ideas that would yield good research, but before recruiting someone, I evaluate performance throughout the term; grades, posture, commitment, everything is observed.”

“Oh... sure, professor.”

“You’re doing well so far, you have good chances, keep it up.”

You wanted to scream. You’ve been recognized.

If your previous efforts were continuous to make a good impression, they would now be compulsive to stand out from the others. You needed to have him as an advisor. And all the eagerness to please him, all the competitive desire to excel, all that fervor triggered a fire that consumed every stretch of your body silently.

And that was a problem.

It shouldn’t be, but it became without you noticing.

“Do you know how many people would sacrifice everything to sit on these chairs? Walking through these corridors? Breathe this air? All of you have an obligation to achieve more than perfection, especially if you are here because of mommy and daddy’s money.”

You knew that very well. Gavey was very demanding about the quality of his students, always reinforcing the privilege of being in this environment, which in itself would make his discipline one of the most important of that term, but your current disposition made you demand almost all attention for him, for the test that was coming, for what you aspired to in the future.

And the result couldn’t be better.

You had a 100% performance in the first test. Excellent, handwritten next to the note. “Good work, keep it up,” he said with a subtle smile.

“Thank you, professor.”

So that’s what the butterflies in your stomach were from.

You smiled, satisfied as you reaped the fruit of weeks of hard work, too numb in your own pride to feel a close eye to follow your steps to the exit, although you had not gone unnoticed by Miranda.

“I think someone caught Gavey’s attention,” she hummed low, approaching on your side to lightly nudge your body with her hip.

“I know right? I need this opportunity,” you celebrated, oblivious to the implicit tone of her voice.

“I didn’t mean that way, babe. It's just he’s keeping an eye on you constantly, literally checking you every- I don’t know, three minutes?” She said it as if it were obvious.

“What? No, I don’t think it’s in this sense, he uses everything as a parameter of choice, he’s just observing my posture.” What? To believe that Gavey had ulterior motives? Too unreal.

“No, sweetheart, he was staring at you when no one paid attention, or almost no one, and he spent most of his time looking at you,” she insisted.

“You don't really thi-“

“I totally think so!”

Oh fuck.

“I’m not saying he’s in love with you, but he's interested, hell yeah,” she explained as you slowly processed her words.

“Fuck,” you said, “do you really, really think so? I mean- he doesn’t look like the type who stays with students.”

Definitely not, he seemed too methodical for that, methodical enough to separate the spectra of his life into compartments.

But what if there was the possibility? You couldn’t reproduce that question audibly, but in the comfort of your bed, you allowed yourself to daydream.

If there was some possibility?

Well, there were pros and cons that needed to be analyzed meticulously, of course.

In the event that Michael was a systematic monster, there wouldn’t be problems in a relationship since he wouldn’t mix romance with studies, theoretically. On the other hand, if he didn’t know how to differentiate the staff from the professional... well, you’d be fucked up if something went wrong. And that was the main point: the mistake.

The consequences would be drastic if something bad happened, especially to you, whose life was still under construction and a scholarship in Oxford could not be negotiated. The cost was too high.

However, over the weeks, you could only think about how attractive your professor was.

And now you know it’s a problem.

And with that, the end of year 2 was near when you received an email from Michael Gavey requesting to send your notes and certificates of everything you had done and participated in so far. Jesus, that man wasn’t kidding.

Neither were you.

That same morning you attached the documents to the e-mail and forwarded a response, as a result, your presence was requested at his office as soon as possible. I’m available in the afternoon, you send to him.

It was complicated to make your legs stop shaking along the way, practically jumping through the corridors while trying to stay calm. It was your chance, one where nothing could go wrong. You wore your best clothes, put on accessories that you used to wear daily and a subtle makeup to make a good impression, nothing that drew too much attention.

Stopping in front of his door, you took a deep breath and announced your presence with a light knock against the old wood, receiving immediate permission to enter the space. You would've liked the time and the absence of an observer to analyze all the details, but instead your eyes locked with his as he walked back to his chair.

“Good afternoon,” he said, a polite smile illuminating his beautiful face as he pointed to the chair in front of you, “have a seat. Please.”

“Good afternoon, professor, thank you,” you greeted him back, shaking your hands anxiously as you sat down.

With no time to allow your eyes to wander through the objects on the table, Michael cut straight to the point. "So, what aroused your interest in Number Theory?" You, to begin with.

"Well, I chose Maths at the age of 17, but things were difficult when I started the course. I was disenchanted considerably, but I always remained active. When your classes started I felt the same thing that motivated me to join here, it was as if everything had made sense again and I really fell in love with it."

“I see,” he said, crossing his hands over the table with a soft smile and a slight pink to his cheeks. Did you make him blush? No way. "I’m happy to have contributed positively to your training. I really appreciated your performance during classes and the analysis of your CV. The activities you have developed are also good but they can improve, I believe you also aspire to it. I seek a high level of quality in my students, after all we are in one of the best universities in the world and excellence is the least expected, I believe we agree on that. Have you already decided where you would like to specialise within Number Theory?"

"To be honest, no, but I would like to find out in-"

"I have some ideas that I’d like to be executed, I can show you now, if you don't have something in mind," he interrupted you with enthusiasm.

"... yes, I’d love to," you said, "but first, thank you for the opportunity you’re giving me, I admire you so much from the first classes and I feel really happy to receive this chance, I know there are many successful veteran professors, but I believe that a current view of a person as impressive as you can bring interesting results."

And if he had blushed with your previous statement, now he was red as a tomato and all disconcerted as he looked down with a shyness never witnessed before by you. It was deadly cute.

Gosh, you were really fucked.

═════════════════════

Working with Michael was exciting.

Terrifying too.

You felt constantly intimidated by his intellect, which caused a mix of sensations that varied according to the day. There was the pride of collaborating with him, the fear of failing, the paranoia of not being good enough and the satisfaction of achieving good results. It was a real roller coaster.

The passing of the months dissipated the initial strangeness and made living more comfortable. On the other hand, the proximity made you watch him for longer. It was pathetic.

Michael spent most of his time in front of his computer, correcting things, creating things and participating in events. You weren’t the only one under his guidance, there was Paul, a recent entry in Maths who was too inert in his own world to notice any non-standard deviation. Paul was a reminder and a barrier for nothing to come out of your daydreams, although he didn't seem very interested in what you were doing.

Still, you couldn't feed those thoughts, your relationship should be strictly professional.

It didn't matter how discreetly he approached you to help, or how close he leaned towards you- more than what was considered respectful. Or how good he smelled and looked so comfortable with his cheesy sweaters and old shoes. Or when you looked at him closely while he explained something.

How it was happening at that very moment.

“You're wasting time trying to demonstrate this equation, it's not so important for the project,” he said when analysing your latest advances.

"I know, but I'd like to understand better and I'm not getting it, it seems too abstract," you said with a frustrated pout, bothered by being stuck in something so simple.

"You've already solved more difficult things," he stressed, looking at you consciously, "can I?" he asked, referring to your notebook and the pen next to your laptop.

“Sure.”

Your attention focused on the numbers and symbols scribbled on the paper, trying to keep up with the speed of his thought. Watching it has always been fascinating.

“Some things are more difficult when we make them like this,” he said as he sketched on the paper.

"It's easy to say that being you," you replied, lamenting the failed attempt to absorb some of his knowledge.

"But it's true."

Unconsciously, you leaned your shoulder against his arm. "Some things are naturally difficult, not everyone can visualise like you."

"I know, it's a natural advantage," he smirked, looking at you over his shoulder, face closer than usual. "But you have a good brain, you shouldn't make it harder than it is."

So close.

"And how should I make it easier?" You held your breath, not daring to look beyond his beautiful blue irises.

"Find in the problem points that are favourable to you, try to demystify them, make them palpable," he replied slowly, taking a deep breath.

Really close.

"And if there's nothing to be explored?"

"You can always call me."

"… I know."

So close.

═════════════════════

After that, you don't know what or why, but something has changed in your relationship with Michael.

His looks became more persistent, his presence seemed closer, almost palpable. Maybe it was a daydream of your own mind, but it looked different, inexplicably different. The air seemed heavier when there was proximity. He seemed comfortable when he touched your shoulder while you read your results. It was nothing, you thought.

There was something not said and that was enough to bring out fears and expectations.

Why not? You thought repeatedly, knowing the reasons very well.

But, maybe...

Maybe you needed to get him out of your head for a few hours, meet some nice guys, drink a little, it was a good idea.

That's why that Friday night you decided to go to one of the nearby pubs with Miranda. It was a good plan, you would leave the lab at 5 PM and get ready to meet her at 7 PM. It was in fact a good plan... until the data analysis program decided to crash in the middle of your work and a malaise affected your friend, in addition to a grotesque rain that started to fall recently. Well, at least you tried.

After collecting the material from the bench, you stretched your arms above your head to ward off the hours of agonizing stress and got up from the chair. It was already late and your view was tired, more than your own body when Michael showed up with his keys in his hand after closing his own office. He spent the afternoon by your side trying to solve the damn problem in addition to his chores as a teacher.

"Everything worked out?" He asked.

"Yeah, at least that," you grumbled, picking up your backpack, "thank you for the help," you looked at him before going to the switches to turn off the equipment.

"You’re welcome," he said simply, in a softer tone than usual. Thunder echoed when you turned off the lights and made you retreat briefly in fright, making himhim laugh softly. "So, what does your generation do to have fun Friday night?" He asked casually after leaving the laboratory.

"Considering that these pubs are older than you and me, I think the same thing your generation did," you replied humorously, looking at him with a small smile, "Unfortunately not with this rain."

"Did you have plans?" He asked.

"Yes, my friend and I’d go to MacLaren's pub, but she's sick and the world decided to fall suddenly and I didn't bring my umbrella," you said faster than you intended, a brief irritation about how your night was totally destroyed. “And you?”

“No plans,” he said, adjusting his sweater. His car was close, but the rain prevented him from advancing a lot. "Are you walking?" He asked.

"Yes- I mean as soon as the rain passes," you crossed your arms and hugged yourself.

"I can take you," he said, his words beginning to make your heart beat faster.

It's no big deal, it's just a polite gesture.

"Oh no, you don't have to, honestly. I can wait," you said, although the twinge in your heart meant the opposite. Why the fuck did I deny it? Damn it.

"It's no big deal, besides we don't know when it will pass," he said, "we can wait in my car, I'm fucking freezing here."

"Sure." You tried not to freak out at the idea of being in such a restricted and warm environment with him, but Michael didn't seem to share the concern, since he basically ran in the middle of the fine rain to reach his car. Okay then. You went right behind, putting the backpack above your head to protect yourself from the water and closing the door harder than you intended. “Sorry, I wasn't expecting that,” you said with a light laugh.

"I just needed this heater," he said with a small smile on his lips, messing with things on the panel, "I also didn't bring an umbrella."

Avoiding making him uncomfortable when analyzing his every movement, you took your cell phone to try to distract yourself, relaxing when the hot air became present. It was almost 6:45 when You Really Got Me filled your ears and made you look at him.

"Do you like The Kinks?" You asked.

"I'm a fan, what about you?"

"My friend is a big fan."

“And you?”

"I like some songs."

"My grandfather was a great vinyl collector, he left everything to my father but he was never into rock in general," he said as he adjusted his glasses, looking at you with soft eyes.

You looked at him with interest. "I started listening to rock to get the attention of a guy I liked. It didn't work but I really liked the songs, although I don't listen to the same bands as I did when I was younger."

Michael laughed. The sound was carefree, almost relaxed even, a facet you didn't see often. He looked soft, cozy, in that burnt orange sweater he wore. "And what do you listen to?"

“I listen to a lot of Oasis, but that's not really 60's stuff. But I also like Led Zeppelin, Pink Floyd, The Strokes...”

“Big fan of Oasis,” he said.

“Really?”

"I have all the vinyls and I went to a concert in Manchester before the separation." He paused, "Would you like to see them?"

There was an intensity in his look that made your breathing fail, making the air heavy. The casualness of the situation did not seem so natural all of a sudden. He meant-

“In my home.”

Shit shit shit shit

You couldn't, you shouldn't.

“Yes.”

═════════════════════

And so, contrary to all the possibilities of the night, you were in Michael fucking Gavey's house.

A veiled restlessness endured in the air and in the way your heart beat as you were taken by the unknown path. You couldn't believe you had agreed to that, but here you were, looking at every detail of his flat with curiosity. It was large, clean and almost minimalist in design, some thematic objects of mathematics scattered around on the shelves, walls and table. Nerd.

A short silence was maintained while your eyes eagerly explored his place. "Do you want to drink something?"

"Water would be great," you tried to keep the modesty, while watching him go to the kitchen and approach with your request with his gaze locked on yours.

You couldn't be imagining things, there was something there, a different glow, an unspoken truth that caused chills to run through your body.

"You can sit down, I'll get the vinyls."

Your heart was almost exploding since the invitation. You couldn't believe he brought you here, much less that you agreed to come. What the fuck should you do? Let him show you the records and then go? That was stupid.

You forced a conscious smile when he appeared with the records in his hand, watching with a certain curiosity.

“Here,” he said with what you assumed to be a nervous smile, “This is definitely my favourite, although What's the Story? Morning Glory introduced me to the band-“

Your brain wandered when he started digging non-stop about the albums, not giving a damn about Noel and Liam Gallagher's drama, all that mattered was that you were next to Michael Gavey, on his couch, at his house. Michael, the man who took away your sleep and made you constantly daydream. The man who fascinated and intimidated you to the same extent, who made your body warm up when it was close and imagined what it would be like if he got closer.

With his beautiful eyes, nose and lips, big hands and long fingers, soft and beautiful dirty blond hair.

You've wanted it for a long time.

You wanted him.

Wanted to fuck him.

You wanted to fuck your own professor.

And you're tired of denying it.

"I know I shouldn't do that, but it's all I've been thinking about for months."

You interrupted him, touching his cheek as you slowly leaned against him. He froze in place, not preventing your advances as your faces grew closer and closer. Your lips gently brushed against his before pressing harder, starting a fearful and shy, almost chaste kiss.

He didn't reciprocate.

Your heart sank, panic blooming in your stomach.

What did I do?

"I'm sorry, I shouldn't-"

His lips silenced any doubts that dared to emerge, holding the back of your head while kissing you experimentally. You didn't waste time in moving your lips at the pace he set, holding the back of his neck and smoothing his beautiful face, tasting the taste of his lips.

You couldn't believe it, you couldn't! He was kissing you!

Michael Gavey was kissing you!

"I'm sorry, we shouldn't-" he said as he walked away abruptly, but you didn't care.

You attacked his hungry lips and made him move the discs away when he leaned against his body, climbing on his lap and holding both sides of his neck. His hand went down your back and held your ass firmly while the other grasped on the back of your neck, pulling your body closer and asking for access to your mouth with his tongue. You kissed, sucked, and bit his pink lips, taking advantage of everything you could before moving away to look into his eyes, looking for any sign of reluctance.

“I've wanted to do this for a long time,” he confessed.

“Me too,” you said.

And then you were kissing him again, and again, and again until your lips were red, wet and swollen. Your body warmed up when a bulge emerged below your thighs, instinctively grinding against it.

“Fuck- I can't, we can't do that, I'm your fucking professor,” he said out of breath, holding your arms and briefly pushing your body away. "This can ruin everything- fuck up our relationship-"

He was red, dilated pupils and heavy breathing, a fucking vision.

“I know, I know. But... just this time, we can forget just this time... what do you think?"

He held firmly one side of your face and looked into your eyes. “Are you fucking sure about this?”

“I'm fucking sure.”

Just this time.

"... just this time."

He leaned over to kiss you quickly, moving his hands under your blouse to take it over his head, groping the exposed skin of your arms, waist and belly with his big hands while drinking from your body with lascivious eyes. "Beautiful," he whispered.

His lips traveled to spice up moist kisses on your neck, sucking the conjuncture with his shoulder, licking your throat, making you melt and close your eyes when he found your sweet spot. Who knew he had that fire? He nibbled and sucked the sensitive skin, holding your waist firmly when he raised you and put you on the floor, leaving you stunned as he guided you by the hand to the room.

Michael didn't have time for your reasoning to come back when he gently pushed you against the door with both hands next to your head. “You're fucking gorgeous.”

“And you're handsome,” you removed his orange sweater, touching the skin of his torso.

"... you don't have to reciprocate the compliment."

Your chest hurt when you heard that, which made you touch his cheek instinctively. "I'm not saying out of courtesy, Michael, you're fucking attractive," you traced his lips with your thumb, looking at him firmly. “Fucking handsome.”

A slight blush took over his cheeks and he captured your lips with passion, holding your waist while kissing life outside of you. Your head was spinning and your stomach warmed up by intimacy, straightening his soft hair. You were in the damn clouds.

His hands moved to unbutton your pants and lower them, kneeling before you to remove your shoes and jeans, kissing the stomach trail to the top of your panties and shamelessly touching your drenched pussy.

"Mmm," you shuddered and closed your eyes when he started rubbing your clitoris, increasing the moisture between your thighs. Fuck. Your goddamn professor was kneeling in front of you. If you weren't wet before, now a river has accumulated in your center.

"Is that good?" He asked.

“Yeah,” you whispered, holding onto him for better support, watching him continue to massage your clit now directly into the skin while leaving kisses on your belly. You leaned dramatically against the door when he stuck a finger in your entrance, pumping slowly, feeling you, teasing. “Fuck.”

Michael removed his finger and stood up, unbuttoning his belt quickly and taking off his pants and shoes, leaving you warm and needy and following him like a puppy when he went to the headboard near the bed and opened the upper drawer to take off a condom. Damn it, he was so fine. Before his hands were on your body, you slowly pushed him on the bed and took control, removing the bra and discarding the panties. You couldn't believe what was about to happen.

Your body trembled when he pulled you by the waist and clapped your breasts as you sat on his covered cock and ground over it.

"Fuck," he grunted, sucking one nipple.

"Michael," you moaned, panting. 'Professor,' that's what you wanted to shout, pulling the hair from the back of his neck. He moaned when you kept grinding against his erection and hoisted your hips to lay you on the sheets.

Your mouth opened when he discarded his underwear - not even in the wettest dreams did you imagine that size. He was fucking fine. Tall, thin, defined and with a beautiful cock. Fuck-

Michael Gavey was really a box full of surprises. He barely had time to adjust his glasses and put on the condom before he was pulled by you to take over the top, caged by your legs.

He captured your lips in a sweet kiss, leaning on his elbow as he adjusted between your thighs. The next thing you felt was the welcome intrusion into your folds, stretching you open deliciously. The initial stretch was a little painful, it's been a while since you've been with someone, but he was slow and careful when sinking into your core, making your toes curl up and a relieved moan come out of your throat when he was totally inside.

"Are you alright?" He asked with his face above yours.

"Yes," you held his back, "just wait a minute, please."

“Okay,” he said with a red face, hoarse voice and almost breathless.

Your walls were pulsating when you finally received it, relaxing when the slight discomfort passed. “Move.”

His thrusts were soft, but firm, looking at you closely. You couldn't believe that, yes, Michael was fucking you. Finally.

You leaned up to kiss him while holding your back, groping his wrinkles around your eyes. He was fucking handsome. His hips went further and faster when your body was totally receptive, the moisture and heat surrounding him and making him slip without hindrance. He leaned his forehead against yours and held your hips when you dug your feet on the bed, hitting deeper than before, making you moan loudly and your pussy squeeze instinctively.

A hoarse moan was his response, almost a whining that was swallowed by your lips.

You were in the fucking clouds with the intimacy of the moment, tracing patterns on his back and pulling the blonde strands from the back of the neck when the thrusts became more intense, deliberately repeating his name. Michael attacked the conjuncture of your neck and lifted your thigh even more to go deeper, deliciously hitting your core.

"Michael- fuck-" You could only think of how good he felt, how big his cock was and how his bulbous head brushed your sweet spot whenever he moved. You needed it too much. Holding his shoulders and pushing him away a little, you looked at him panting, making his eyes widen.

"Did I hurt you?" He asked with a tense body.

"No, no, It's just-" and then you moved to take control, resting your hands on his chest, "this." You wanted to ride him since the time you called me in your office. You rubbed your hips against his groin in an addictive rhythm, loving the friction against your clitoris and the feeling of being totally filled.

"Fuck," he grunted, squeezing your ass, groping your hip, holding your breasts, covering every piece of skin available.

You started moving on his cock, touching his chest gently. You felt it all over your core and that burned your whole body, especially when your spongy spot was being brushed rhythmically. Michael pulled you to a scorching kiss full of tongue and teeth, leaving your movements sloppy, but constant, almost frantic, your moans and whining became higher and higher, your velvety walls squeezing his thick axis more and more.

"So fucking good," he moaned against your mouth and leaned his feet on the bed, holding your buttocks and hitting his hips against yours.

“Fuck-“ you almost screamed, resting your head against his chest when he started pushing quickly into your hot pussy, creating lascivious sounds that echoed all over the room.

“You're squeezing me so fucking hard - you're close, aren't you?” He asked, almost breathless.

“Y-yes,” your eyes closed when the family tingling intensified and your juices lubricated it even more.

"Come for me baby," he grunted when your folds pulsed around him, "cum in my fucking cock."

Shit.

Your orgasm hit you hard; hot and sudden as lightning, making your body tremble and a flash blind your vision as the air disappeared from your lungs and your mind went blank.

"Fuck," you heard him moan far away, feeling his cock pulsate and the squeeze on your ass increase when his erratic movements stopped, leaving only a few slow pushes on your sensitive pussy.

You melted completely when the orgasmic euphoria spared, coming out of it unwillingly so as not to deprive you of the air and stabilize your own breathing. Your mind was tired although very aware of the fact that you had just fucked your professor.

You can't fucking believe it.

Fucking finally.

"Are you okay?" He asked, all red and sweaty as he looked at you with crooked glasses.

“Absofuckinglutely,” you looked at him tired, panting, attracted by how cozy he looked. “And you?”

He smiled softly, pushing away some strands of hair that had stuck to your forehead, fingering your face with his thumb. “I'm fucking great.”

Michael pulled you to rest on his chest when a comfortable mist hovered between you as you recovered. None of you said anything for the next few minutes, just enjoying the calm silence before reality starts to come back. You fucked your professor.

You fucked your professor.

What did you have in your head?

You tried to convince yourself that nothing would change after that, that your relationship would not be affected, but you were not sure of that

Just this time.

═════════════════════

taglist: @venmondiese @re-per @anukulee @slytherincursebreaker @tulips2715 @rhaenyslay @angelinap09 @cupidelocke @aegonswife @fan-goddess @thenightmistress @deliaseastar @scarletbedlam @delightfulbluebirdstarlight @arcielee @aemonds-holy-milk

my lovely beta reader: @moris-auri 💙💙

[kayewrite]

WRONG IDEA RIGHT?!!

jeongin x reader!! prof jeongin x prof reader!! word count: 5k

genre: fluff, humor and..

summary: it started with a misunderstanding rumor, then a mess happened to professor yang's life.

an: I mean.. our maknae on top was always foine but seeing his instagram posts rn?? i cant help but to.. guys please read this!! this was too fun!!ps. im really sorry for being inactive! im not foine at all but im trying to be foine!!

Jeongin spotted a mosquito on your cheek as you were passionately explaining something. Without thinking, he raised his hand and—

“Pak!” The sound of the slap reverberated through the room as Jeongin’s palm connected with your face.

He blinked at his hand, confused. “Huh, it got away…” he muttered under his breath, completely ignoring the fact that you were now staring at him, clutching your stinging cheek in utter disbelief.

A thick, suffocating silence fell over the classroom. Every student had frozen mid-action, eyes wide, mouths open, not daring to breathe. Even Professor Yang, who had been explaining a diagram at the front, stood there with his pointer mid-air, looking as if someone had just dropped a bomb in the middle of his lecture.

You opened your mouth, then closed it, trying to piece together what just happened. Finally, through gritted teeth, you managed to stammer, "Why… did you slap me, Professor Y-Yang?"

A wave of shocked whispers exploded across the classroom.

“Oh my god, did Professor Yang just slap Professor (Y/N)?!”

“No way! That’s gonna be on the news for sure!”

“Do you think they’re secretly dating?!”

One girl gasped dramatically. “Did he dump her in front of everyone? OMG, is this a public breakup?”

Meanwhile, Jeongin stood there, his brain completely short-circuited. He had messed up. Badly.

Before he could open his mouth to explain, Principal Lee suddenly appeared, yanking Jeongin by the arm. "Professor Yang, we need to have a word. Now."

"W-Wait, I can explain—" Jeongin sputtered, but Principal Lee wasn’t having any of it and practically dragged him out of the room.

And just like that, you were left standing there, cheek still throbbing, while the rumor mill went into overdrive.

Later that evening, determined to clear the air, you stormed over to Jeongin’s house.

“JEONGIN!” you bellowed, bursting through his front door without even knocking. “Where are you?!”

A muffled, panicked voice came from somewhere in the house. “I-I’m not here!”

“You idiot, I can hear you!”

You found him crouched behind the sofa, wide-eyed and frantically searching for an escape. The moment he saw you, pure panic flashed across his face. Without missing a beat, he bolted for the window.

“OH NO YOU DON’T!” you screamed, lunging at him. Grabbing him by the back of his shirt, you yanked him down before he could launch himself out the window like some kind of fugitive.

The next thing you knew, you were both on the floor, with you straddling him and furiously punching his chest. “HOW DARE YOU SLAP ME IN PUBLIC?!”

Jeongin held up his hands defensively. “There was a MOSQUITO on your face!” he yelped.

“A mosquito?! You expect me to believe that garbage?!”

“Yes! I swear! I saw it!” Jeongin insisted, trying to shield his head from your onslaught of punches. “I was trying to save you from getting bitten!”

You paused, fists mid-air, eyes narrowing suspiciously. “And do you know what everyone’s saying now?!” you demanded.

Jeongin gulped, shaking his head.

“They think you dumped me in public and that I’m OBSESSED with you!”

Jeongin winced. “W-Wait… What? Obsessed?! How did that even—"

Before he could finish, you grabbed him by the collar and shook him. “You RUINED my reputation!”

“I swear it was just a mosquito!” Jeongin whimpered.

Then, in a last-ditch effort to stop you, Jeongin did the most unexpected thing—he cupped your cheeks and kissed you, right there, on the lips.

The world came to a screeching halt.

Your fists dropped to your sides as your eyes widened. You blinked at him in shock, feeling your face heat up. Slowly, your hand came up to touch your lips. “O-Okay…” you stammered. “I-I believe you… about the mosquito, I guess.”

Jeongin let out a breath of relief, his face redder than a tomato. "Y-Yeah! That’s what I was trying to tell you!”

But then, reality hit you both at the same time.

You squinted at him. “Wait. What about the kiss? What was that?”

Jeongin’s mind went into overdrive. “Uh… uh… it was, um… to make you stop hitting me?”

“Oh,” you said softly, your voice suddenly tender. “Well, I’ll also accept your confession.”

“Wait, what?” Jeongin froze. “C-Confession?!”

You smiled sweetly, batting your eyelashes. “You like me, don’t you?”

Jeongin’s soul left his body. “EH?!”

“Well, it’s about time! I like you too!” you announced triumphantly. “What took you so long to admit it, huh? You were probably hiding it because we’ve been friends for years, right?”

Jeongin’s jaw dropped. “Uh, I—”

You giggled, covering your face in embarrassment. “Don’t be shy, Jeongin! You can be my boyfriend now!”

Jeongin was in full panic mode. He didn’t like you like that! He had just kissed you out of desperation, not romance!

But now, standing in front of you, with your eyes sparkling and a grin on your face, he realized he was in way too deep to back out.

Well, guess I’m in this mess now, he thought miserably.

--

You couldn’t contain your excitement as you skipped down the halls of the university the next day, practically glowing. “Jeongin and I are dating!” you had blurted out to your colleagues the moment you walked in, unable to hold back the giddiness.

Word spread like wildfire. By lunchtime, practically every professor and student knew about your newfound “relationship” with Jeongin, and you were basking in all the attention. It wasn’t long before everyone started congratulating you—your students, your fellow professors, even Principal Lee.

Meanwhile, Jeongin? He was suffering.

“Congratulations, Professor Yang!” Professor Kim grinned, clapping Jeongin on the back so hard it almost knocked the air out of him. “It’s about time someone tied you down!”

“T-Thanks,” Jeongin managed to say, his smile so stiff you’d think it was glued on. His brain was doing mental gymnastics trying to figure out how to survive the day without letting his entire soul implode from embarrassment.

“Ohhh, Professor Yang, I had no idea you were such a romantic!” cooed Professor Park, winking as she passed by. “First the slap, then the kiss! Very bold of you!”

Jeongin’s smile faltered as he tried to laugh it off. “Y-Yeah, bold… that’s me…”

You popped up beside him, completely oblivious to his inner turmoil. “Jeongin! Can you believe it? Everyone’s so happy for us!”

Jeongin shot you a weak smile. “Yeah… ha… so happy.”

Principal Lee suddenly appeared out of nowhere, clapping Jeongin on the shoulder. “You sly dog! First you slap her in front of the whole class, and then this?! What a power move!”

Jeongin’s face was a shade of red not yet discovered by humans. “It’s not… I mean… well…”

You beamed at Principal Lee. “Right?! Isn’t he the sweetest? We’ve been neighbors for years, and I always knew there was something there!”

Jeongin felt his soul leave his body again as he gave Principal Lee yet another strained smile. “Yup… definitely… something…”

Principal Lee let out a hearty laugh. “You’ve made quite the impression, Professor Yang. Keep it up!”

As soon as the principal walked away, Jeongin turned to you, his face twisted in a mix of desperation and panic. “You… you told everyone?”

You nodded cheerfully. “Of course! Why wouldn’t I? This is the best thing that’s happened to me in ages!”

Jeongin wanted to crawl into a hole and disappear. But before he could say anything, a group of students walked by, whispering loudly.

“Did you hear? Professor Yang kissed Professor (Y/N) after slapping her in front of the whole class!”

“Yeah, I heard! Talk about a whirlwind romance!”

“I bet they’ve been secretly dating for years!”

Jeongin clenched his fists, trying to maintain the fake smile plastered on his face. This was getting way out of hand. He hadn’t even processed what was happening himself, and now the whole university was acting like they’d been following his fake love life like it was the hottest new K-drama.

You, on the other hand, were in your element, waving at everyone and basking in the attention. “Come on, Jeongin!” you said, grabbing his arm and pulling him along. “Let’s go to lunch together. It’s our first official lunch date as a couple!”

Jeongin followed along helplessly, his heart sinking further with every passing second. “Lunch… date… great…”

As you both made your way to the cafeteria, you were all smiles and sunshine, happily chatting about how perfect everything was. Meanwhile, Jeongin stared blankly ahead, his mind going a million miles a minute.

How am I going to survive this? he thought miserably, his fake smile twitching as another professor gave him a teasing thumbs-up.

--

One week into this "relationship," Jeongin was still struggling to survive. The whole thing had snowballed out of control. The once small, laughable rumor had now solidified into a full-blown campus-wide "fact." Teachers, staff, and students alike were fully convinced that he and you were happily dating.

You, on the other hand, were living your best life. Your joy at the situation was contagious. Every time someone asked about the relationship, you gave them an enthusiastic update.

“Oh yeah, Jeongin and I went out for dinner the other night,” you casually mentioned in the teacher’s lounge one morning, and the other teachers lit up.

“Where did you go?” Professor Park asked, leaning in with interest.

“Just this little Italian place downtown. Jeongin insisted on treating me,” you said, smiling like a lovesick puppy. Of course, none of it actually happened, but it didn’t matter. Your storytelling skills had everyone hanging on your every word.

Meanwhile, Jeongin, sitting quietly at the corner of the lounge, pretended to sip his coffee while his life slowly unraveled before his eyes.

“Oh my god, Jeongin is such a gentleman!” someone whispered loudly, and the rest of the teachers nodded in agreement.

Jeongin internally screamed. Gentleman? Me? I just wanted to correct one misunderstanding, and now I’m the romantic lead in a drama I didn’t sign up for!

At school, things were no better. Jeongin couldn’t walk down the hallway without a student giving him an admiring look or a cheeky thumbs-up. Every day felt like a test of his endurance.

“Professor Yang, I heard you and Professor (Y/N) are like, relationship goals,” one student said as Jeongin walked into class. He froze, mid-step.

“Uh... thanks?” he managed to choke out.

Another student chimed in, “Yeah, my girlfriend and I look up to you guys. You’re the perfect example of true love!”

Jeongin felt his soul leave his body. True love? Are you kidding me? He forced a smile and shuffled to his desk, all while internally begging for some cosmic intervention to end his suffering.

--

After weeks of the messed up situation (for jeongin)..

Jeongin stood at the front of the class, his usual calm, professional demeanor in place. He was explaining the day’s lesson on statistics, but something was off. One of the students kept shifting in their seat, glancing nervously between him and their textbook. Finally, unable to hold it in any longer, they raised their hand.

“Professor Yang…” the student began, their voice wavering slightly.

Jeongin paused, turning his attention to the student. “Yes? Do you have a question about the lesson?”

The student fidgeted. “Not exactly. It’s just… um… I really like Professor (Y/N). Like, a lot.”

Jeongin blinked, completely thrown off. The class fell into a hush, eyes wide, as they eagerly awaited his reaction. He felt his heart race, but somehow managed to keep his expression neutral.

Clearing his throat, Jeongin forced a smile. “Well… if you want a girlfriend like Professor (Y/N), you should focus on your studies. Get good grades, graduate, and maybe one day, someone just as amazing will come into your life.”

The student’s face flushed as the class erupted into giggles, and Jeongin awkwardly scratched the back of his head. This day can’t get any weirder, he thought to himself.

Later that afternoon, Jeongin found himself sitting across from you in the faculty cafeteria, trying to shake off the awkwardness of that confession. You, as usual, were happily digging into your lunch, oblivious to the chaos he’d dealt with.

Just as Jeongin was about to take a bite of his sandwich, you suddenly said, “I think we should break up for a while.”

Jeongin froze mid-bite, his eyes widening as he looked at you in shock. “W-What?”

You sighed, setting down your fork. “It’s just that… I think our ‘relationship’ is causing more harm than good. A lot of my students are heartbroken, you know?”

Jeongin blinked, still not processing what you were saying. “Heartbroken?”

“Yeah,” you continued, shrugging casually. “They all have a crush on you. Some of them have even stopped coming to my classes. It’s kind of a problem.”

Jeongin was stunned, staring at you as if you’d just told him the sky was green. “Wait… you’re saying we should ‘break up’ because our students are heartbroken that we’re together?”

You nodded, completely serious. “Exactly. I’ll fix it, and once things settle down, we can get back together. Simple, right?”

For a moment, Jeongin didn’t know what to say. He just sat there, dumbfounded. But then, slowly, he felt a smile tug at the corners of his lips. The absurdity of the situation was too much.

“Sure,” he said, trying to suppress the growing grin on his face. “I mean, yes. We should definitely, uh… fix our students first.”

You smiled back, completely missing the relief that was practically radiating off of Jeongin. “Great! Glad we’re on the same page.”

As you went back to eating your lunch, Jeongin sat there, still smiling to himself, feeling like he had just dodged the weirdest bullet of his life.

--

The news of your "breakup" spread faster than a wildfire during a heatwave. Within hours, whispers of your separation had reached every corner of the university. Students exchanged shocked glances, and staff members, who had once teased you both relentlessly, now approached with sympathetic smiles.

You sat in the faculty lounge, sipping on a cup of tea, when Professor Choi from the History department quietly slid into the seat next to you.

“I heard,” she said softly, resting a hand on your shoulder. “I’m so sorry to hear about you and Jeongin. Breakups are never easy, especially when you still have to see each other every day.”

You nodded, biting your lip to keep from laughing at the absurdity of it all. "Yeah… it’s been rough," you muttered, trying to look appropriately heartbroken.

Meanwhile, Jeongin was getting his own dose of sympathy. He sat at his desk, furiously typing up notes, when Principal Lee casually strolled over and leaned against the doorway.

“Yang,” the principal said in a low, solemn voice, “I know it’s tough right now, but… if you need to take some time off to, you know, process everything, just say the word. We all understand.”

Jeongin looked up, his face blank. “Time off?”

Principal Lee nodded, crossing his arms. “After the breakup… it can’t be easy to work with someone you still have feelings for.”

Jeongin blinked, finally registering what was happening. Oh right, the breakup. They think I’m upset…

Realizing he had to play along, Jeongin sighed dramatically, running a hand through his hair. “Yeah… it’s been hard.”

The principal clapped him on the shoulder. “Take care of yourself, Yang. Don’t hesitate to ask for support if you need it.”

As soon as Principal Lee left, Jeongin leaned back in his chair, staring at the ceiling. This is getting ridiculous, he thought, but couldn’t help smiling. The sympathy and comfort he was receiving was nice, though it felt incredibly unnecessary.

During lunch, the two of you crossed paths in the hallway. You caught each other’s eye, and despite everything, Jeongin had to stifle a laugh. You both knew how ridiculous the situation had become, but there was no turning back now.

“Got a lot of support?” you asked with a grin.

Jeongin nodded, smirking. “More than I can handle. They think I’m a broken man.”

You laughed. “And yet here you are, looking completely unbothered.”

Jeongin shrugged, unable to hide the mischievous twinkle in his eye. “What can I say? I’m handling it really well.”

--

By the end of the week, the whole campus was buzzing with the “tragic” news of your breakup. You couldn’t walk down the hallway without someone giving you a sympathetic look or a pat on the shoulder, and Jeongin… well, he was practically swimming in support from all directions.

On Friday morning, as you arrived at your desk, you found a small gift bag with a note attached.

Stay strong, Professor (Y/N)! Heartbreak is tough, but you’re tougher! - Faculty Support Team

You shook your head, trying not to burst into laughter. Jeongin had just walked in, clearly trying to avoid eye contact with anyone for fear of being bombarded with more sympathetic words. But as fate would have it, Professor Lee from the Economics department appeared out of nowhere, placing a hand on Jeongin’s shoulder.

“Yang,” Professor Lee said in a voice heavy with emotion. “I just want to say… we’re all really proud of how strong you’ve been. You’ve handled this breakup with so much grace. It’s truly inspiring.”

Jeongin blinked, forcing a tight-lipped smile. “Uh… thanks?”

“If you ever want to talk about it,” Professor Lee continued, “my door is always open. Sometimes, it helps to let it all out.”

Jeongin could barely suppress an eye roll but managed to keep his expression neutral. “I appreciate that.”

As soon as Professor Lee left, Jeongin plopped down in the chair next to yours, groaning. “I can’t take much more of this. It’s like everyone thinks I’m seconds away from a meltdown.”

You snorted. “They’re just being considerate. You are going through a ‘devastating’ breakup, remember?”

Jeongin sighed dramatically. “Yeah, but do they have to constantly remind me? I’ve been offered counseling, time off, and even baked goods—like, six times this week.”

You grinned. “That sounds like a pretty sweet deal to me.”

Jeongin shot you a playful glare. “Easy for you to say. You’re over here getting gift bags.”

The two of you shared a laugh, and for a moment, the whole ridiculous situation didn’t seem so bad. But then, as if the universe had a personal vendetta against Jeongin, Principal Lee strolled into the lounge, spotting you both at once.

“Ah, Professors!” Principal Lee said, a knowing smile tugging at his lips. “It’s good to see you two… managing things so well.”

Jeongin internally groaned. Here we go again.

“I just wanted to say,” Principal Lee continued, his tone taking on a deep, meaningful note, “you’ve both handled this transition with such professionalism and maturity. I’m proud of how you’ve put your students first during this difficult time.”

You and Jeongin exchanged a glance, you gave a solemn nod. “Thank you, sir. We’re just trying to focus on what’s best for everyone.”

Principal Lee gave a final nod of approval before walking away, leaving the two of you.

Jeongin sighed deeply. “Professionalism. Maturity.”

You giggled. “Hey, at least no one’s asking if we’re getting back together yet.”

Jeongin rolled his eyes with a smile. “Give them time.”

--

After the news of your "breakup" spread, the campus vibe completely shifted. Students who once looked heartbroken at the sight of you and Jeongin together were now noticeably more cheerful. Some even started paying extra attention during Jeongin’s lectures, no longer distracted by their imaginary heartbreaks. The campus seemed to breathe a collective sigh of relief.

In particular, a few students had grown oddly enthusiastic about your newfound "single" status.

One day, during lunch break, you left the faculty room to grab a coffee.

Across the room, Jeongin was pretending to focus on his papers, but out of the corner of his eye, he saw an entire thing unfold. A tall student, clearly nervous but determined, had crept into the faculty room, glanced around cautiously, and then swiftly placed the milk on your desk before practically running out.

Jeongin raised an eyebrow. What the…?

As soon as the student was out of sight, curiosity got the better of him. He glanced around the room to make sure no one else was watching, then stood up and made his way over to your desk. He leaned down, inspecting the little pink carton like it was evidence in a crime scene.

Strawberry milk? Really?

Jeongin shook his head, slightly amused. He knew exactly what was happening—some student had a crush on you, and now that the breakup rumors were out there, they were shooting their shot.

Jeongin leaned against your desk, arms crossed, staring at the milk with an expression that could only be described as a mix of disbelief and mild irritation.

First they’re heartbroken, and now they’re trying to make a move? he thought, a small smirk playing on his lips. He wasn’t sure if he should be amused or… annoyed.

Just then, you walked back into the room, catching sight of Jeongin standing near your desk with a carton of strawberry milk in his hand.

“Uh… what are you doing?” you asked, narrowing your eyes suspiciously.

Jeongin looked up, trying to act nonchalant as he pointed to the milk. “You’ve got an admirer, it seems.”

You blinked in surprise. “What?”

He handed you the milk, still smirking. “Found this on your desk. Some student dropped it off, probably hoping to win your heart with sweet drinks.”

You stared at the carton, then back at Jeongin, trying to process what he was saying. “A student… gave me strawberry milk?”

Jeongin nodded, leaning in slightly. “And not just any student. That tall one from your class—the one who always sits in the back and pretends he’s not staring at you the whole time.”

You rolled your eyes, but a small smile tugged at your lips. “Well, at least it’s not another breakup sympathy gift.”

Jeongin chuckled, his eyes twinkling with amusement. “Yeah, but now you’ve got students lining up to be your rebound.”

You playfully swatted his arm. “Oh, shut up.”

But as you sat down, opening the milk and taking a sip, Jeongin couldn’t help but feel a strange mix of emotions. He didn’t like you romantically—that much he knew. But seeing other people making moves on you… it felt odd. Not bad exactly, just… odd.

Still, he shrugged it off, returning to his desk with a final glance at you sipping the strawberry milk.

Well, at least she seems to be enjoying it, he thought, shaking his head with a quiet chuckle.

Over the next few days, you noticed more of those small gestures—the occasional extra pen left on your desk, little notes with doodles, and once, someone even left a small bouquet of sunflower. The attention from your students, though sweet, was starting to get a bit overwhelming. Meanwhile, Jeongin was secretly keeping track of every “gift” like a personal tally, finding it both amusing and somewhat annoying.

But today, Jeongin found himself in a particularly bad mood. He wouldn’t admit it, but every time he saw one of your students sneaking something onto your desk, it grated at him more than usual. And the last straw came when you received yet another carton of strawberry milk.

This time, Jeongin was teaching in the adjacent classroom when he noticed the same tall student from before standing outside the faculty room, peeking in to make sure no one saw him. The moment the coast was clear, the student dashed inside and left another carton on your desk, sneaking away as fast as he came.

Jeongin frowned. Again with the strawberry milk? Is this guy serious?

Later, as you entered the room after class, Jeongin was already standing there, staring at the carton as if it had personally offended him.

“Uh… are you collecting these now?” you teased, walking toward your desk.

Jeongin held up the milk with a bemused expression. “Don’t you think it’s weird that this guy keeps giving you strawberry milk? I mean, come on, he’s got no creativity.”

You raised an eyebrow. “You’re jealous of a carton of milk now?”

Jeongin blinked. “W-What? No! I just think it’s… repetitive,” he grumbled, crossing his arms.

You laughed and took the milk from his hand, giving him a light-hearted smile. “I think it’s kind of sweet. You know, harmless.”

Jeongin snorted, clearly unimpressed. “Sweet, huh? Well, maybe he should try actually talking to you instead of leaving mystery drinks on your desk.”

You were about to respond when suddenly, the tall student walked past the door, clearly not expecting to see Jeongin still standing there. He froze, eyes wide as he saw Jeongin holding the milk, his face turning beet red.

“Oh—uh, hi, Professor Yang!” the student stammered, nervously fidgeting.

Jeongin’s eyes narrowed slightly, but his smile remained in place—though it definitely didn’t reach his eyes. “Ah, it’s you again. What’s this, another gift for Professor (Y/N)? You know, if you want a girlfriend like her, you should focus on your studies first. Maybe graduate, too, before you start handing out milk.”

The student’s face turned even redder, and he gave a quick nod before practically running away.

You gave Jeongin a look. “Did you just… scare him off?”

Jeongin shrugged, feigning innocence. “I’m just encouraging academic focus. That’s my job.”

You rolled your eyes and shook your head, laughing softly as you sat down. “You’re impossible.”

--

One afternoon, as you stood outside the faculty room, you were approached by the father of one of your students. He looked a little troubled, so you smiled warmly and asked how you could help.

"Ah, Professor (Y/N), I just wanted to talk to you about my son's performance in class," the father started, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. "He's been struggling lately, and I think it's because of some issues at home…"

You listened attentively, nodding as he explained the situation. Unbeknownst to you, Jeongin had just come out of his own classroom and saw you in conversation with the man. Out of habit, Jeongin walked over, stopping beside you. He crossed his arms and subtly observed the situation, his expression calm but his gaze sharp.

The conversation with the student's father went on for a few minutes, mostly focused on academics. But then, out of nowhere, the man smiled a little too warmly and said, "You know, Professor (Y/N), I really appreciate how much you care about the students. Maybe I could get your number so I can reach you if there’s anything else about my son I need to discuss?"

Before you could respond, Jeongin stepped forward. “Actually, I’m Professor Yang, her colleague,” he interjected smoothly, a polite but firm smile on his face. “You can contact me directly if there’s anything you need to discuss about your son’s progress. I’ll make sure the message reaches Professor (Y/N).”

The father looked a little taken aback by Jeongin’s sudden presence but nodded slowly, glancing between the two of you. “Oh, I see. Well, thank you, Professor Yang.” He accepted the number Jeongin offered, then awkwardly excused himself.

Once he was gone, you turned to Jeongin, your arms crossed, eyebrow raised. “You didn’t have to do that, you know.”

Jeongin rolled his eyes. “Trust me, I did.”

You chuckled, nudging him lightly. “What, were you jealous of a parent now? I mean, come on, he was just asking for my number.”

Jeongin’s jaw clenched slightly, and you could see the faintest flush on his cheeks. “Jealous? No. I’m just being cautious. That guy… something felt off.”

You chuckled, giving him a light nudge. “Sure, sure. You’re totally not jealous.”

Jeongin stayed silent for a moment before turning to face you fully. His expression was serious now, his usual playfulness gone. “Look, I’m kind of tired of this… seeing things like that happening.”

You blinked, confused. “What do you mean?”

Jeongin sighed, rubbing the back of his neck before blurting out, “You should just get back together with me already.”

Your eyes widened in surprise, completely caught off guard. “Wait, what?”

He looked at you, dead serious now. “Yeah. I’m tired of pretending. All this break-up stuff and guys sneaking around leaving you milk—it’s driving me crazy. So, let’s just stop playing games and get back together.”

You stared at him for a moment, trying to process his sudden confession. Then, a teasing grin spread across your face. “Wow, Jeongin… I didn’t know you were this in love with me. You’re really losing it, huh?”

Jeongin rolled his eyes, but there was a small smile tugging at his lips. “You’re impossible.”

You laughed and leaned in closer. “Alright, fine. We’ll get back together… but,” you paused for effect, “let’s keep it a secret relationship. You know, for the thrill of it.”

Jeongin raised an eyebrow, clearly not amused by the suggestion. “No.”

You blinked. “No? Why not?”

He crossed his arms, standing firm. “If we’re getting back together, I’m letting everyone know. I’m not hiding it.”

Your heart fluttered at his words, feeling a mix of surprise and excitement. You raised an eyebrow. “Wow… you’re really serious.”

Jeongin nodded, his gaze steady. “Yeah. I am.”

News spread like wildfire—no, like how Lightning McQueen drives! In no time, whispers of “Professor Yang and (Y/N) are back together!” buzzed through the halls.

And this time, Jeongin wasn’t just accepting congratulations; he was practically beaming! With a newfound confidence, he grinned as faculty members and students approached him, slapping him on the back and congratulating him on “landing the best professor in the university.”

“You’re a lucky guy, Professor!” one student chirped during class, his eyes wide with admiration. “I hope I can get a girlfriend like her someday!”

Jeongin smirked, leaning back in his chair. “If you want someone like me, you better ace my quizzes!” He paused, his smile growing mischievous. “Alright, everyone, grab a piece of paper! Surprise quiz time!”

Later, while you were teaching your class, a girl shyly raised her hand. “What’s it like being Jeongin’s girlfriend?!” She squealed, and the rest of the class leaned in, practically vibrating with excitement.

You couldn’t help but laugh, loving the attention. “Well, let me tell you, it’s like having a baby dinosaur in your life!” You grinned as they squealed, hanging on your every word. “He’s really sweet, but also super clumsy. When we were kids, he once tripped over his shoelaces while trying to impress me with a magic trick. Spoiler: the magic trick failed, but it was pretty funny.”

The students were wide-eyed, hanging on to your every word, as you shared more stories about Jeongin and his antics growing up. Laughter filled the room as you recounted tales of his childhood mishaps, and you could see how much they adored the idea of their professors being so relatable and real.

"Now can someone answer my question, just like his magic trick.. why rubbing a plastic pen through your hair pick up little bits of paper in science?" you smirked

After all the chaos of rumors, misunderstandings, and awkward moments, it felt good to share those light-hearted memories with them. You glanced over at Jeongin, who was peeking into your classroom with a playful grin, and your heart swelled with happiness.

As the day wound down, you couldn’t help but think: After all the mess and everything, life is good. You had your friends, your job, and most importantly, you had Jeongin—your partner in crime and your forever accomplice in laughter.

-----------------------------

an: thank you for reading. a heart, reblog, and comment is very much appreciated

(randomly mentioning some jeongin stans. thankyou)

masterlist

[thelittlestoflives]

Unravelling the Mystery

a wee Sanji x Strawhat!reader from the perspective of our favourite archeologist! it’s so self indulgent lol but i just love these lil pirates so much!! my first time writing for one piece too!!

barely proofread or formatted forgive me pls!!!!

no warnings, just fluff, use of YN but gender neutral as much as possible

wc: 1k

Robin loved a mystery.

Whether it be a novel, an ancient archaeological site, or even the small cartoon strip in the newspaper that Nami got delivered every so often, she was all over it, the cogs in her brain whirred like a woman possessed to solve it.

Her newest obsession was the mystery of where her fellow crewmate was going when everyone else was asleep. Every night, she would hear the door creak and their gentle footsteps on the floorboards.

Sleepwalking?

No. It seemed too calculated for that. And if it were sleepwalking, how would that explain the way that they managed to always be in their bed in the morning?

Robin knew in her gut that there was something else happening here, and she was determined to find out what. Not by asking, of course. She would find out in her own special Robin way, by following YN as they left the room, and then staying awake all night to see when they returned. Simple enough really.

That night, she laid with her back to YN, breathing steadily to imitate someone who was dead asleep. Nami’s breaths had evened out too, and like clockwork Robin heard the familiar creak of the floorboards and the door carefully being pried open.

She waited a few seconds before getting up and creeping out of their room.

YN tiptoed ahead of her, bare feet not making a sound on the floor, yawning and rubbing their eyes.

Robin felt in her element as she sneaked behind her crew mate, only a slight pang of guilt in her stomach. Her curiosity overrode that particular emotion.

YN turned left, towards the boys’ room.

With precision, they opened the door slowly, and then shut it behind them without a sound.

Ah. Of course. They're sneaking in to see someone. But who?

Robin’s brain raced with possibilities. Was it the stoic swordsman? Their silly captain? The flirty chef? She went back to her bed, puzzling over each outcome.

When Robin opened her eyes, sunlight streamed onto her face and she was hit with a feeling that she forgot something. She rolled over and saw Nami and YN sound asleep in their respective beds.

Dammit! She fell asleep before she could see YN coming back to bed. Tonight, she would do it. The day could be used to gather some more clues.

At breakfast, she watched YN for any signs of lingering gazes or prolonged touches with any of the other crew mates.

Unfortunately for her she was in the middle of an intense discussion with Usopp and Luffy, trying to explain why their Captain physically couldn’t eat so much that he would actually explode, and missed exactly the telltale signs she was looking for. Hands brushing, a slight blush of the cheeks, eyes meeting with a knowing glint.

The rest of the day proved ineffective for clue gathering, and now asking YN outright seemed almost like admitting to failure, by not being able to solve this mystery. And that simply wouldn’t do. Tonight she would put an end to this and find out to settle her questioning mind.

Again, she feigned sleep and waited for those creaking floorboards. Once she felt like enough time had passed for YN to settle into whoever’s bed it was they were creeping in to, Robin rose from her sheets and moved towards the male quarters.

She imitated the way YN had opened the door, carefully and noiselessly. She stuck her head through the gap and scanned the swinging hammocks for any signs of her friend tangled up with someone. Wrinkling her nose at the smell of, well, men, she willed her eyes to adjust to the dark whilst internally cursing. She couldn’t see anything! This was beginning to frustrate her. Why couldn’t she solve this seemingly simple mystery? She sighed softly, closing the door and stepping back into the hallway.

She made herself a coffee and sipped it while deep in thought. She would just have to stay awake and see if she could spot YN heading back to bed.

She lay in bed reading her book, so lost in the words that she didn’t realise that it was almost sunrise. The footsteps outside the door startled her and she blew out the candle she was using to read and pretended to sleep once more.

The door pushed open, and she stared intently through half shut eyes.

A familiar blonde head stepped into the room, with a sleepy YN cradled in his arms.

Aha! So it was the damn chef after all.

He laid them down impossibly gently, tucking the duvet around them. He knelt down beside their head, and they exchanged some mumbling words before he pressed a tender kiss to YN’s forehead. Their hands were still tangled as he stood to walk away, and he kissed their knuckles so softly that Robin felt a small jolt in her heart. Sanji left the room to prepare breakfast for the crew, and YN was already back asleep.

She suppressed a smile. The thought of her friend creeping into his arms every night, so soft, so tender, so loving, and him gently cradling their body to his every morning before he started work, tucking them in, was so overwhelmingly endearing she could cry. Now she knew why her friend was keeping it a secret, for now at least. However, she was surprised that the lovesick chef was able to keep something like this to himself, but you didn’t need to be as perceptive as Robin is to see how special and genuine this relationship was. They belonged entirely to each other and were secluded in their small bubble of secrecy. She wasn't going to be the one to pop it for them.

And after all, she got what she wanted.

She solved the mystery.

[lovelynim]

Sick Leave

Zenless Zone Zero - Wise x Asaba Harumasa

A/N: To think this is the first thing that I managed to finish after all this time... well, it is what it is, but I think I like it.

Summary: Is 'tickled to death' a good reason to ask for a day off work?

Word count: 1304 words

Wise blinked in confusion, still trying to process the absurdity - or reasonability - behind Harumasa’s explanation. He sat back down on top of the other man’s lap; his hands, once poised to strike, now hesitating, clenching at the couch beneath them.

“But-”

“If you really care, proxy, you can’t,” Harumasa insisted, even crossing his arms behind his head before laying back down. “Doctor’s orders,” he added, making Wise pout slightly.

How could such a good, priceless intel be wasted just like this? Be discarded like a spam e-mail or like a troll post on the Inter-Knot? Still, Wise would probably die out of regret if he actually ended up hurting Harumasa because of something like that.

Seeing the upset frown on Wise’s face, a lighthearted chuckle broke the silence between the two men. “I’m sorry ~,” Harumasa cooed and Wise could swear that there was some mockery hidden in those words, “I’m such a disappointment, ain’t I?”

“Don’t say that,” the proxy sighed, shaking his head before resting his arm on the couch’s backrest, “it’s just hard to believe.” 

Too hard, actually, to the point that Wise could cross his heart and hope to die on it. Asaba Harumasa, elite agent, part of the armed forces under H.A.N.D., member of the Hollow Special Operations Section 6… couldn’t, for medical reasons, be tickled?

Wise heard this absurd merely moments ago. He and Harumasa were watching a movie (yes, cuddling together on the couch, but that’s not important *caham*) and, on the screen, one character tickled the other. A brief, short-lived moment, mostly irrelevant to the plot itself. Still, that scene lingered just enough inside Wise’s mind and sparked a question, the question.

‘Are you ticklish, Harumasa?’ Wise had mumbled with his cheek still pressed on top of Harumasa’s chest, his words barely distinguishable from gibberish. ‘Yes, but don’t do it,’ was the other’s plain, calm answer.

Oh, but why shouldn’t he? Why shouldn’t he tickle Harumasa to tears right there and then?

As if controlled by some sort of bigger, incomprehensible force, Wise felt the need to tickle Harumasa at that exact moment. The agent’s words had barely made it inside WIse’s brain and he could already picture all sorts of scenes - Harumasa laughing, blushing, hiding his giggling face behind his hands…

He had to do it!

The proxy, then, moved his hands - his fingers trailing up both Harumasa’s sides at the same time, lightly grazing and wiggling against his skin through the thin fabric of his shirt - and, seconds later, wise could already feel the grip around his wrists, stopping his hands in their tracks and holding them away from the other man’s body.

“I asked you not to, proxy,” Harumasa repeated sternly, his golden eyes leaving the movie aside to look down at Wise’s face.

“Why? Are you that ticklish, Harumas-”

“Because I will get hurt.”

Maybe it was the dead-serious tone in Harumasa’s voice or the (fake) concern in his eyes when he said that, but Wise’s mind went blank. He expected a plea, an angry facade or even some silly excuse… but ‘get hurt’?

The agent, then, explained that his body couldn’t stand being tickled - not because of its apparent sensitivity - but because of his health’s condition. 

“My lungs are too weak to let me properly breathe while I’m… under such stress, not to mention my heart could literally explode trying to keep up with it!” It did sound serious, a bit convincing, even. 

Wise did think about arguing back, saying how Harumasa could tear all sorts of horrors from the hollows apart effortlessly, and, therefore would be able to stand a bit of tickling, but fighting ethereals and protecting citizens sounded like a much better use for his energy than getting tickled just to please the desires from a single proxy’s heart.

“But what if I am gentle?” Wise suggested, back to present, still trying to find a way into it.

Harumasa’s only answer was a sigh. “That’s not how it works,” he mumbled, softening his tone to add to the dramatic charge of his act, “before we notice, my skin will be covered in bruises, I’ll be coughing like dying man and my heart will be as good as a broken bangboo left-” 

“Okay, okay, I get it…” Wise interrupted, waving a hand close to his chest in the hopes of sparing himself from any other gruesome detail of the consequences of tickling Harumasa. Still, that was starting to sound a bit… too much.

“I’m glad you understood it, proxy,” Harumasa smiled, pushing his body up for a brief moment just to wrap his arms around Wise’s neck and drag him back down with him right after. “I really wish I could experience such a thing, but you know how my life is extra diffi- p-prohoxy?!”

 Before Harumasa’s act could come to an end, a strained chuckle interrupted his line. With widened eyes, he looked down at Wise’s face - inches away from his - as if hoping that the source of the sensation that just crept up his spine was a mere accident.

“Yes?” Wise grinned slightly, his chin resting by the top of Harumasa’s collarbone.

Harumasa could feel his throat closing, the pressure inside his mouth as his teeth gritted, and his muscles tensing up while Wise’s thumbs rubbed into his lower ribs. “I-I thohought you- ahAH - w-would spahare me of suhuch pain!”

“Wrong,” Wise clicked his tongue, feeling encouraged by the reactions he was managing to draw out of the other guy.

It didn’t take more than a couple seconds for Harumasa to understand that Wise managed to see through his act. That whole discourse may have fooled Seth and Soukaku, but it definitely didn’t seem to work on Wise, the agent noted mentally.

“W-Wise, wahahait! I was seheherious! AHah, plehease, let m-me explahahain!” Harumasa whined, one of his hands reaching for Wise’s while the other latched onto Wise’s shoulder, trying to push him away. None of these attempts, however, had the desirable outcome.

Harumasa couldn’t help but smile - genuinely, this time - as Wise’s fingers wiggled and traced his ribs and the sides of his chest, searching for any ticklish spot like a carrot program collecting data from a hollow. “Your body seems to be handling it pretty well, huh?” Wise teased, as cheeky as possible.

“It’s nOHOhot!!” Harumasa whined, kicking his feet on one end of the couch and pressing his head back on the other. “W-Wise, plehehease!! AHAhah! ~”

“Wait, are you ticklish here too?” 

“W-wahait, not thehEHE-”

“...”

[The next day]

“Asaba-kun, you don’t expect me to really approve another leave this week, do you?” Yanagi sighed, looking at the papers her colleague had handed her. “What are these symptoms even supposed to indicate? Cheek and abdominal pain, labored breathing…” 

“Y-you don’t need to read it, vice-captain, just sign it” Harumasa groaned sheepishly, standing next to her desk, “I don’t even need it to be long this time, it’s just so I can get checked and make sure my condition isn’t getting any worse.”

Yanagi looked at him with the corner of her eyes, over the lenses of her glasses. She wasn’t convinced. “Please, vice-captain! It’s been like this since- since yesterday! It’s hurting so bad that I had to put up a battle this morning just to come here and talk to you!”

“...sigh, I hope you already have the compensation for this in mind, Asaba-kun. But, of course, you may go see a doctor.”

“Thank you, vice-captain! You’re the best!” Harumasa cheered, springing back into life as if cured just with the idea of getting a day off. 

He could hear Soukaku asking Yanagi about his leave while he walked out and an unpleased groan coming from the vice-captain, but it didn’t matter. If anything, Wise was the one to blame this time, not him.