#i hope she realises one day that her ‘suffering’ is all her own stupid fucking fault

[crystaltoa]

God, I hope I didn’t come across as defending her when I said I thought she was ignorant. Ignorant is not the same as innocent in my view. I knew there were some nasty pieces of work in her circle these days, and from what I understand TERF culture is very much a cult-like echo chamber that isolates people from those with a more reasonable viewpoint. Maybe calling the end result of that mutual brainwashing ‘ignorance’ is too charitable, though. And she chooses this despite having many reasonable people in her life that could inform her why her TERF friends are in the wrong. She absolutely chose this path of hatred and cruelty.

There is some compelling evidence of her deliberately trying to employ a misinformation argument strategy, though I think she probably could and will fall back on plausible deniability and claim innocence/ignorance, if she responds publicly to this at all.

It would be fascinating to see how this goes down with her TERF friends given what a contradictory and volatile group of people they are. Some are openly Nazis, some are horrified by the very idea of inviting someone so hateful and vitriolic as a Nazi into their vitriolic hate group.

It’s too optimistic to think that the infighting that results from this could be a wake-up call to her, but maybe it will lead some women who’ve gotten involved with similar groups to realise exactly what kind of cesspool they’ve gotten themselves into and start looking for a way out.

i actually think we should not be giving JK rowling any attention in general but to be honest maybe normies should know that woman is straight up doing holocaust denial on twitter now

[hungermakesmonsters]

Catch Me If You Can

Chapter Three

Plot summary : When your friend interviews for a position at Anvil, you have a chance encounter with Billy Russo. He takes you for coffee and, by the time you’re done , Billy decides he’s anything but done with you.

Pairing : Billy Russo x Reader

Story Rating : R 

Chapter Rating : R - smut and alcohol

Warnings : [This is a fic for 18+ only, minors DNI] This is the chapter where the smut starts. Please check the warnings on each chapter if you choose to follow this story. 

Word Count : ~3.3k

A/N : This chapter picks up a couple of weeks after the last and things are finally going to get moving a bit. Again, thank you so much for reading and liking the previous chapters, I really hope you’ll enjoy where I plan to go with this!

CHAPTER ONE | CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

Weeks passed, time and space allowing you to forget about Billy and the offer he’d made you. To her credit, Tammy had stuck with the job at Anvil and even seemed to be enjoying it, and she only rarely expected you to drop her off or pick her up. And Billy was nowhere to be seen; if he knew you were there, if he noticed your car, he didn’t bother to come out to see you. Everything felt like it was as it should be. In fact, everything felt better than it should.

Most days you didn’t even see Tammy; she’d go to work then out for food with her new friends, not getting home until late, leaving you with the whole apartment to yourself. Not that you were home much. No, you’d been taking extra shifts, trying to save some money. Soon enough Tammy would realise that she didn’t need you to split the bills and you’d wanted to be ready for when that day came.

As much as you didn’t want to have to move out, the thought of having your own space seemed nice. 

Space that you found yourself desperately wishing for when Tammy texted you to let you know that she was throwing a party. You’d just finished your last delivery of the evening and all you’d wanted to do was go home, take the world's hottest shower, and then climb into bed. 

Instead, when you got home, you had to fight to get to the bathroom, and suffer through the quickest shower imaginable because Tammy’s guests kept banging on the door. As for going to bed early? You gave up on that dream before you’d even reached the apartment door; the noise from the party flooded out into the stairwell, practically shaking the fucking walls.

You tried to be a good sport about it, hiding away in your room with your headphones on, trying to relax after a long day but you couldn’t. After two hours, you were at your wits end and you needed a drink (or to strangle Tammy - whichever opportunity presented itself first). Having to force your way through a crowd just to get to your own kitchen did little to help your mood but nothing could have prepared you for what came next.

Right in front of the refrigerator stood a leggy blonde - the sort with devastating curves and a perfect figure - but she wasn’t the one that held your attention. No, you were more stuck on the person at the end of her arm, the man whose chest her hand was possessively resting on. Billy-fucking-Russo.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” you muttered aloud but still remained unnoticed. Insignificant. Inconsequential. 

For a few moments, you waited, like an expectant child, hoping someone would finally realise that you were there and move, but the longer you watched them, her hand stroking his chest and his eyes on hers, the angrier you felt. And you blamed him.

Normally it wouldn’t have bothered you  - you were fine with blending in, with people not noticing you - normally you would have cut your losses and returned to your room. But he was standing there, in your home with that shit-eating grin on his lips while some woman pawed at him.

The anger was irrational, it was stupid - you’d told him no, you didn’t get to be angry. But why had he even asked? Why go through all of that when it was obviously so easy for him? He’d stood in front of you and laughed at the idea you weren’t his type, but here he was, proving you right. Was that why he’d given up so easily? (Though could you really call it easy when you’d told him no at least half a dozen times?)

Finally, something broke inside of you.

“Hey, can you fucking move?” It came out before you could stop yourself, a little louder than it really needed to be, but it got her attention.

And his.

“Excuse me?” She turned on you and, yeah, she was just as pretty face on.

“Hey, you’re here,” Billy smiled, though the smile only lasted for a moment.

“Of course I’m here, I fucking live here.” You snapped, pulling the refrigerator door open, forcing the blonde to step back.

“Oh, you’re the roommate, the bike messenger. That’s cute.” The blonde smirked, all but looking down her nose at you (which honestly wasn’t hard given the five inch heels she was standing on).

“I’ll show you fucking cute in a minute,” you practically snarled as you fished a can of beer from the fridge. 

She stepped forwards, ready to call your bluff, but Billy decided to chime in.

“Michelle, can you give us a moment?” He barely even looked at her and, under different circumstances, you might have enjoyed the way her face dropped at being dismissed by him. But you were too angry at him to pay her much mind once she started to walk away, even if she did mutter something that sounded vaguely threatening under her breath as she went.

Billy looked at you, obviously trying to figure out where your little outburst had come from. You tongued the inside of your cheek, glancing around at the mess Tammy’s guests had left all over the kitchen - mess you’d probably have to clean up in the morning.

“You should probably go after her,” you finally broke the silence, “she might fall off those heels and break her neck.”

“I’m sorry.” He offered with something of a sigh.

“For what?”

“For what she said. It was shitty.”

“It’s fine.” It really wasn’t fine. “I’m used to it.” It still pissed you off though. “And if it really bothered you, you should’ve at least had the balls to say it was shitty while she was still standing here. Not that I need you protecting me.”

“Have I done something wrong?” He finally decided to ask. “I feel like you’re pissed at me but I did exactly what you wanted me to do, I stayed away.”

“Being in my apartment isn’t staying away, Billy.”

“And that’s why you’re pissed? Because I came to a party? It’s not like I was trying to hunt you down, you came over here. Tammy said you’d stay in your room, that -”

“You know what? Never mind. You wouldn’t get it.” With that, you turned and started to walk away from him, swiping a bottle of vodka from the counter as you made your way back. Billy called after you, but he didn’t dare try to follow, and you didn’t breathe again until you were safely back in your room.

The next hour or so faded into something of a blur once you opened the vodka. Outside of your room the party raged on, showing no signs of ending anytime soon, but all you could think about was Billy. Have I done something wrong? It played over and over in your head and, even hours later, you still didn’t have an answer.

Yes, he’d done something wrong.

Only, no, he hadn’t.

You’d told him no, you’d turned him down; you didn’t get to be upset that he was letting other women throw themselves at him. You didn’t get to be angry that he was probably going to take Michelle home with him tonight. But you were angry, and that’s what annoyed you the most.

You felt used, felt like you’d been nothing more than a game to him and that, even if you had said yes, he would have dropped you the moment someone like her looked his way. 

Most of all you were upset that you had nothing to offer a man like Billy Russo.

After a while you got to your feet, planning on heading to the kitchen again for a glass of water - who would have guessed that trying to drink straight vodka was not the best idea? Being south of sober definitely made navigating the crowd of people a lot more interesting. Until you ran into her. Literally. Her drink fell from her hand the moment you collided, most going on you, but enough ending up on her.

You didn’t stop or wait to hear what she had to say, suddenly feeling like everyone was looking at you. You didn’t even make it to the kitchen, instead you ducked into the bathroom and slammed the door shut behind you, banging your fist against the door, needing to do something to help release the frustration. Once you were done hitting the door, you leaned against it, pressing your forehead against the wood, trying to get your shit together enough to go back out there and make it back to your room without causing anymore issues.

It wasn’t until you heard the toilet flush that you realised you weren’t alone.

And, as you turned, there he was. Billy-fucking-Russo pulling up his zipper.

“Shit, sorry -” you blurted out, cheeks burning with embarrassment, “- the lock, sometimes it doesn’t -”

“Don’t worry about it,” Billy shrugged, washing his hands like it was all perfectly normal, “though if you wanna work your frustration out, I can suggest something a little better than punching the door.”

“Of course you can,” rolling your eyes. “Can you just go, please?”

“I would, but I don’t think you really want that, sweetheart,” he smiled, waving his hand, reminding you that you were still pressed against the door, trapping him in there with you. You didn’t move. “Seriously, what did I do to piss you off? You asked me not to bother you anymore, so I left you alone. Why are you acting like I kicked your dog?”

As he spoke, Billy stepped forwards. You didn’t move, you just kept your eyes fixed on his, on those dark eyes that seemed to look right through all of your bullshit. You could get lost in those eyes; you wanted him to look right through you to all the things you kept hidden, just to prove yourself right about him when he walked away.

You didn’t answer his question. You didn’t have an answer for him. Silence fell and the space between you shrunk with every passing second until you had to tilt your head back against the door just to look at him.

“Why me?” You finally dared to ask the question that had been plaguing you since that first kiss.

“Why you, what?”

“Why kiss me when you have women like Michelle throwing themselves at you? Was it a slow week or did you think I’d just be desperate enough to say yes?” There was a pain in your words that you didn’t want to share with him; you didn’t want Billy to know that you were jealous, that he’d made you feel cheap and easily replaced.

For a second he looked at you, like he was thinking, like he was trying to understand just what you were saying. His eyes stayed fixed on yours, catching every little flicker of upset. Then he was moving, reaching for you and pulling you towards him, while simultaneously pressing you back against the door, his lips finding yours.

The kiss wasn’t gentle. No, it was everything you thought of when you dared to think of Billy; dominant and eager, possessive and hungry. His teeth nipped your lower lip, relieving you of your last scrap on common sense. You could taste whiskey on his lips and on his tongue as you fought with him to deepen the kiss, to get everything you could from him. Fingers gripped his shirt, pulling him closer, his body strong and firm against yours.

His hand held the back of your neck, fingers tangling with your hair, holding you in place while he devoured you with his kiss. It wasn’t long before your hips started to move, pressing yourself against him, trying to find some sort of relief.

“I can’t stop thinking about you,” he confessed against your lips.

The confession was almost enough to distract from the hand that moved between your bodies. Your thigh lifted to his hip, desperately pressing closer and closer while his lips began to trail up and down your neck. His touch made you feel like you were burning from the inside out and your breath caught the moment you felt his hand slip beneath the waistband of your leggings and into your panties. Your head fell back against the door as his fingers slipped lower, and by the time they reached your clit, you were aching for him.

Billy paused for the briefest of seconds, waiting for any sign that he’d gone too far. You gave him none. His lips covered yours again, kissing you and swallowing down all the gasps and moans that started to spill from you the moment his fingers started to circle the sensitive bundle of nerves. He wasn’t slow or gentle, he was eager, pushing you violently towards breaking point; too fast, too soon.

You felt the bang through the door before you heard it, Tammy called your name, and you froze.

“W-what?” You called out, quickly realising that Billy’s fingers were still moving and he had no intention of stopping. 

“Did you just throw a drink at Michelle?”

Billy’s hand sunk lower through the arousal that had soaked your panties and started to ease a finger inside you. The look on his face was shamelessly smug, enjoying watching you struggle to keep quiet. But you didn’t push him away, didn’t try to make him stop; you wanted him to do his worst.

Tammy banged on the door again.

“Well, did you?”

“No,” you gasped as his finger started to stroke into you from tip to knuckle.

“She said you did.”

His finger bent inside you while his thumb teased your clit; he knew exactly what he was doing, how impossible he was making things.

“I didn’t, it - it was an accident.” Your voice broke and your back arched, pressing into his touch.

His lips moved to your ear, tongue trailing along your lobe before he whispered; “you’re so wet for me, sweetheart.” And, as if to prove the point (or maybe just because he was enjoying watching you squirm) Billy sank a second finger into your wetness. Just one look at him told you everything you needed to know; he loved how much control he had over you, how much power.

“I said how did you accidentally -”

“Tammy, I -” you bit your lips together, trying to swallow down a moan, clenching around his fingers, “- I didn’t do anything to Michelle, so can you just fuck off and leave me alone?”

“You are fucking unbelieveable, you know that? I can’t fucking -”

Whatever she was saying, it didn’t matter. Your fingers tangled in Billy’s hair and you pulled him into a needy kiss, using his lips to muffle the sounds he was tearing from you. Every stroke from his fingers left you feeling dizzy, taking another piece of your sanity with them every time they pulled back. Your hips shifted, riding his fingers, taking everything he was giving you.

You already knew that you were going to let him fuck you. You were already thinking about it; right there against the door first, then bent over the sink so you could watch him in the mirror. Everywhere, anywhere. Every little thing was Billy, as his fingers drove you higher and higher.

Awkwardly, you ran your hand down the front of his shirt to his pants, finding the bulge of his erection and palming it through the fabric. You felt Billy’s lips pull into a smile against yours, his hips pressing into your touch. Fuck, you couldn’t get over how hard he was because of you. 

His fingers bent, stretching you, exploring you, until they found a spot that made you shudder.

“Billy -” you cried against his lips.

“So that’s what you sound like when you cry my name,” he groaned in response, looking at you in a way that sent a shiver down your spine. You could tell that he wanted more, that he needed everything from you. It should have scared you just how much he wanted but as his fingers found that spot over and over again, you couldn’t think about anything but Billy and how he was making you feel.

Your hand moved, tracing the hard outline of his cock, but you couldn’t do much more than that as Billy’s fingers dragged you to orgasm. He kissed you as you came, fingers still stroking into you, trying to drag the moment out as long as possible. Even his lips and tongue couldn’t completely muffle the moans and cries that spilled from you but, if anything, Billy seemed to enjoy it.

When it was done, your foot found the floor again, legs shaking beneath you as you tried to catch your breath. And, as you did, reality started to hit home. 

What had you just done? You’d let your roommate's new boss finger you in the bathroom at a party after drinking too much vodka, that's what.

And, why? Because you’d been jealous that he’d been giving someone else a shred of attention. Because he’d done exactly what you’d asked him to and he’d left you alone.

His lips moved back to your neck, his body pressed impossibly close, letting you know he wasn’t done. Billy wanted more. And you - fuck, some part of you still wanted that, especially when he pulled back his fingers and left you feeling devastatingly empty. You hated how worthless you suddenly felt knowing that you’d given him what he wanted from you - so what if he’d been thinking about you? That didn’t change the fact that, if you hadn’t stumbled into the bathroom, he probably would have taken Michelle home.

(He still could take her home. He could fuck her with the same fingers he'd just had inside you.)

Your whole body tensed when you felt his hands tugging at your leggings, and you knew it couldn't continue.

“Stop,” you finally managed to find your voice again, pushing him away from you.

Billy looked at you, confused and maybe even a little angry (or maybe you wanted him to be angry because it made what came next easier for you).

“What’s wrong?” He asked, expression softening when he noticed the look of anguish on your face.

“I can’t -” your voice broke. You hated yourself and hated him for making you feel that way, for twisting up your insides and giving you a fleeting glimpse of feelings you knew could never last.

“Hey, it’s okay,” he reached for you, fingers ghosting your cheek, trying to soothe you before you recoiled.

“I shouldn’t've, I - I need to -”

For the first time since you’d met him, Billy was left lost for words, trying to figure out what had happened in the last thirty seconds to trigger this sudden change in you, and you took the opportunity to open the door and slip away from him. You heard him call after you but you didn’t stop, making your way through the small crowd that had somehow managed to cram itself into your apartment. You didn’t see him try to follow after you, you didn’t look back, even as you reached the front door and left the apartment. 

You walked for a little while, not really knowing where you were going or what you were going to do. You just knew that you couldn’t go back, that you couldn’t face him. Eventually you wound up in the little diner a couple of blocks over where you sometimes grabbed breakfast in the morning and you stayed there, drinking coffee and eating pancakes until the early hours of the morning, until you were certain that the party would have finished and everyone would have left.

As much as you didn’t want to, you kept thinking about Billy, about everything that had happened, and how much you’d wanted it before the panic had set in. By the time you finally made it home, you were exhausted, crawling into bed and promising yourself that you’d stay away from Billy Russo from then on.

END NOTES : After the next part there are going to be fewer time jumps between chapters, I just wanted to kind of let Billy and the reader stew in their emotions for a bit. The next part is pretty much finished, it just needs some editing (funny story, the T and the I keys on my laptop are loose so if there’s any hilarious typos that slip though that’s probably why). But, yeah, the next part should be up next saturday!

As always, thank you so much for reading and liking and doing all the tumblr things, it means a lot to me! Also I have a tag list now so drop a comment or message me if you wanted to be added

Have a great day!

Chapter Four

TAG LIST

@lincerad @sweetserendipity65 @rafaelakelley

[staenless]

STEDDIE LUNCHBOX FIC PART THREE

It was a week be

Sorry this took so long Ive been busy with beauty school and struggling with motivation tbh lol. Looking back at the previous two parts this needs a LOT of editing but honestly I don't think I can rn so you'll all have to suffer through unedited chapters for now, sorry! Anyway I'm very tired rn so I won't hold up with authors notes anymore, I hope you all enjoy this and please share your thoughts (they fueled this chapter tbh)

It was a week before Tommy passed his lunch on again. Eddie sat in his cubicle nose flaring at lunchtime everyday, a pavlovian response to the clunk-tick of the bento box popping open. He could smell meats, vegetables and fruits, cheesy pastas and salt-buttered rolls. Under it all he could smell that sugar sweet ginger and floral scent, Steve.

Eddie's own lunches were rare, and when he did lower himself to eat at the company café he always found it wanting. Nothing quite matched up to a meal made painstakingly by hand. He wondered if this was part of Tommy's cruel mockery, to hand him something he was unworthy of to let him taste heaven, then snatch it away and leave him stranded in a world of bland flavorless slop.

That wasn't to say the café food was bad. In actuality it was surprisingly good. The young woman who ran it had been part of a government program to teach underserved highschoolers skills, and her meals were wholesome and tasty. She had baked a cake for the company holiday party, and when she say Eddie savouring the bites she confided her secret: a third of the flour was substituted with corn flour to give it a texture. It was the best homemade cake Eddie had ever eaten, though he had very little to compare it to.

So no, the food at the café, the bar and the grocery store and - godforbid - Eddie's own kitchen wasnt bad. It was of a higher standard he was used to, and it was filling and tasty, and he ate what he liked instead of what his guardians decided he should eat. But none of it had the taste of Steve's hands on it, and so none of it could ever compare. He mindlessly shoved forkful after forkful into his mouth, chewed and chocked it all down. He missed Steve's food, after only tasting it once.

The day Tommy decided to grace Eddie's desk with the tin lunchbox again hadn't started out special. In fact as the clock slowly ticked into the luncheon hours Eddie had long resigned himself another cafe meal when Tommy's cackled echoed across the floor.

"Nah, he's going into heat soon so he's been extra bitchy... I've had to pull late night's just to get some damn peace"

Eddie's hackles rose. Omegas in preheat needed stability, reassurance. Spending hours away would just make their preheat anxiety worse, something Tommy was either too stupid to realise or too cruel to care.

"Aw c'mon man," one of the stuffy suited alphas beside him gave Tommy a heart shoulder clap, "heat is the whole point of marrying an omega, right? Man what I'd do to get to fuck one, is it true they can't think of anything other than cock?"

Tommy's low chuckling makes Eddie grit his teeth,that was basically conformation. He's out here discussing his omegas private, vulnerable moments like it's water cooler gossip. Barely containing a growl Eddie peaks over the cubicle and finally spots the group by the - oh for fucks sake - gathered around an honest to God watercooler.

"Yeah the fucking is great, he always bitches about wearing a collar but once he's in the heat of it," smattered giggles, "he forgets aaaalllll about it. Almost makes the week before worth it. Almost." The last line sounds almost spiteful, but his cronies don't seem to take note.

"How'd you even bag him? I mean sure omegas aren't that rare but I hardly see any that aren't mated, especially a nice tame one that'd pack me lunch."

Something in the air turns sour, and when Eddie peaks over again in a bizaar mimic of an old whack-a-mole game, he can see Tommys face twist and turn in on itself. He seems torn between frustration and pride, like a dog showing off its gold plated collar.

"It was a family thing," he says, the vague answer telling just enough for his buddies to drop it while still answering their question. He glances down at the lunch box in his hand and his upper lip twitches in disgust, then his eyes rove over the office cubicles before locking onto Eddie. Shit, too late to duck down, and Tommy marches over, smarmy smile stretching over his too-white too-straight teeth.

"Munson!" THWACK. Ow. "You not having lunch?" Tommy leans down, weight on Eddie's shoulder where his fingers dig in just enough to make Eddie want to bite him. But the possibility of getting his paws on that lunch box, on Steve scented food, outweighs his instinct to fight the alpha trying to impose himself.

"Shit man," his grin is all teeth, "I hadn't even noticed the time! Guess I'll have to run down to the cafe and pick something up, huh?" It's fake. It's so fake and they both know this conversation is just a formality, the conclusion already known.

"I'll save you the trouble," Tommy should have persued an acting career, the script sounds so natural as he straightens up and clacks the lunch box onto Eddie's desk, "I'm heading out to lunch with the boys, you'd be doing me a favour." The last part doesn't sound like a lie, and if Eddie wasn't so desperate for the lunch he'd wonder why Tommy was so desperate to get rid of it.

"Thanks man," he spits out to Tommys retreating form. He mutters something - likely demeaning - to his cronies who titter, then leave together like a pack of cackling hyenas.

Eddie launches from his desk and flies to the rooftop, lunchbox clutched desperately in his hands, cigarettes forgotten. Once he reaches his usual spot his pops the lid, thrumming with excitement at the sight of another note. Ignoring the food over the sweet omegas words he plucks the folded yellow paper and gingerly unfolds it.

"please come home early"

His heart plummets. Right. Steve is in preheat, he obviously wants his alpha. But Tommy said he was avoiding Steve, and now the note confirms that. Please come home early, but no "I miss you" . No "love Steve". It seemed impersonal, something like an order, or begging, but without the hope either of those entail. He recalled Tommys other statement. It was a family thing.

Eddie was familiar, though distantly, with the idea. Arranged marriages were hardly a thing anymore. The star charts, the burnt herbs and entrails spread out beneath a crones trembling hands was far too gouche for modern metropolitans. The payments in silk and bovine too backwards and simple for their forward thinking ways.

Marriages were a more democratic affair for the rich and wealthy, planned out in wood panelled offices with huffing cigar breaths, Alpha to Alpha, the prospects of mergers and inheritance trumping starsigns and blood types. Arranged marriages was for backwards, superstitious folk, agreements were for the rich to keep the money in arms reach. Steve and Tommy were an agreement.

And by the looks of if; no mating bite, avoidance during preheat and the tone Tommy musters when discussing his spouse? Not a particularly blissful agreement. Still. Please come home early, Steve must find some comfort in Tommy's general existence if he wants him around over a trusted family member or close friend. Or pup. Tommy never mentioned a pup, but whether that was because he didn't have one or didn't care much to talk about it was somewhat up in the air.

Eddie brought the note to his lips, just toughing, and breathed deep. The ginger of Steve's scent was less sweet now, his preheat brining out the spice. Something like pepper ticked the back of his nose, pulled the air from his lungs and a final floral smell brought him back in, the sweet aftertaste of a spicy treat. The flowers smelt fresh, Eddie could recall the lily's at his mother's grave smelling the same. Somewhere in his mind he knew that comparison should scare him, but the memory of her grave after the funeral had always been rose tinted by Wayne's kind smile when he took his hand and gently lead him away. Eddie pulled the note away and his lips twitched up, that floral after taste was definitely lily's.

Eddie spared the food a glance, and as delicious as it look, he had something else on his mind. He looked down at the note in his hands, his hind brain sparking to attention at the scent of the omega, and the idea of him home alone in preheat. Eddie wanted to comfort him, to sooth his nerves and let him know he was safe and loved. He wanted to pace the door in front of their den, while Steve nested inside, to protect him from any intruders and serve him. To hold his hand, his waist, to pillow his head on Steve's chest and listen to his heart beat and bathe in his scent.

He couldn't. Steve was married, as much as Eddie's hind brain shouted "not mated" and Steve didn't even know Eddie, let alone allow the alpha into his nest. But Eddie couldn't help it as he pressed the note to his wrists and neck, mind whirling with ideas on how to comfort the omega. Somewhere between kissing Steves fingertips through fruit and the ginger of his scent burning Eddie's nose, the alphas heart had already pledged itself to the omega, already bared itself - pledged itself to his service. If all Eddie could offer was comfort, crossing lines of proprietary was no hurdle.

Taglist: @xxbottlecapx @goodolefashionedloverboi @stevesbipanic @monsterloverforhire @swimmingbirdrunningrock @samsoble @bookworm0690 @tinyplanet95 @idontwantmetoo @steddiehasmywholeheart @mugloversonly @persnicketysquares @morgannotlefay @lololol-1234 @greeniebean911

[donaweasley]

I Will Find You (Part 02)

Pairing: Loki x Fem!Asgardian!Reader

Plot:

Loki was back; but he’s gone again. And things have become worse than ever. Will it be possible to find a home again?

Part 1 to be found here

Warnings: Angst, smut (with a happy ending).

Read time: ~23 mins

Minors: DO NOT INTERACT! Please, sweeties, you’ll have your time for reading mature themes soon. It’s just not now. 🙂

Note: This is my first time writing smut and I’m totally freaking out!! It’s just not my zone, and I know it! So, please bear with me and leave me honest feedback if I should continue trying smutty things or should just leave it here.

They reached New Asgard almost two days after the incident. They would have probably reached the next night had (Y/N) not insisted on waiting there until Loki returned. Thor was exhausted both mentally and physically; he lost the battle and had no other choice but to wait with his headstrong sister in the cold.

(Y/N) could no longer feel him the way she had been able to all these years. But she was adamant; and the shock of losing Loki again made her more so. She believed that Loki could see her even if she could not see him. And she wanted him to see her sufferings, to understand what he had been putting her through, to realise his mistakes, and to come back.

But that never happened.

Dawn broke, and the light of the new day held every broken piece clear before her. Her obstinacy was not leading her anywhere. And then there was Thor, whose broken pieces were collected and smashed on the cold, hard floor again, only to shatter them further, with no hope of ever being put together again.

It was for his sake that she finally agreed to head home. Home! She did not even know what home was like anymore.

The next few days saw things getting worse than ever. (Y/N) became quieter but aggravating. Even Thor, whose smile could ease almost any situation she was in, could not decide how to approach her; walking on eggshells became a regular with the people around her.

The day things worsened was when (Y/N) shouted at the brother-like man in a drunken stupor.

When nothing could ease her pain, she resorted to alcohol, with the Valkyrie for company. The latter tried to push her away but she was resolute. After days of seeing (Y/N) wasting away, Thor decided to step in, but was met with a resentment that he had never imagined coming from her.

"I'm sorry to say this, Brunnhilde, but your drinking habits are getting you nowhere. And now you have dragged (Y/N) with you," he interrupted them one evening.

Before the Valkyrie could open her mouth in defence, a drunk (Y/N) rose to her feet, and staggered towards the older Odinson.

"No one has dragged me anywhere! Whatever I do, I do it on my own! And Who are you to say, huh? You drown your failures and your sorrows in alcohol all day. You shun away from your people and play some stupid game on your dumb box with your dumb friends. You, of all people, have no authority to preach others what to do and what not to do! You Odinsons…fuck you both! You have always lived your lives on your own terms, and never thought about the misery you cause others!! So, you, big, giant, warrior king Thor… please do not come stomping into my life, telling me how to live when you are living a life worse than death every single day!"

Brunnhilde managed to drag her back but not before the harm was done.

The next morning, a soft knock on Thor's door woke him up. With heavy legs, he dragged himself to open it, rubbing his eyes in the process.

He wasn't very surprised to find a sobered up (Y/N) waiting on the other side, with a tray of breakfast in her hands.

Without a word, he stepped aside, making room for her to enter. The place reeked of alcohol but who was she to complain now?

Gently placing the tray on the table, she turned towards him, only to find him disappearing underneath the sheets again.

"Forgive me for what I said yesterday. I was…"

"You were right," a muffled voice floated from inside the covers. "Why are you sorry for stating the truth?"

"Because that is not true, Thor! We both know I was out of my mind. It was not me but my anger talking, and… I am sorry, Thor. Please forgive me…if you can."

She turned to leave but a woeful call of her name made her stop.

"Please do not make yourself suffer because we failed you. You are worth much more."

She said nothing.

"Please get up and have food. Real food. Otherwise you will keep belching all day."

Almost two weeks had passed since they had returned from Tromsø. She made sure not to lash out at anybody anymore, but that also meant bottling everything up until at night when, in the company of darkness and solitude, she let all her emotions out through streams of tears that pooled onto her pillow.

It was another such night; insomnia was a regular visitor now. The rest of the village had fallen into a deep slumber but she sat awake with a book in hand, trying hard to decipher the simple words that her eyes ran over again and again. But her mind was elsewhere, as usual.

Suddenly, what seemed to be like a gentle tap on the door startled her. Her ears perked up. But there was no other sound. Dismissing it to be a figment of her imagination, she returned to her attempts at focusing on the book.

A few seconds later, it was there again. This time it was a clear knock - soft but clear.

Grabbing the hilt of her knife in one hand, she opened the door slightly. The sight before her made her freeze.

Loki was standing just beyond the threshold. The same look of exhaustion reigned in his entirety as she had seen almost a fortnight ago.

On one hand, she wanted to open the door wide and pull him inside and in a warm hug; she wanted her tears to wash all the pain away. On the other hand, she wanted to slash his throat open with the blade she held.

"Can you forgive me?" Loki's eyes pleaded with her.

She said nothing for a while but simply stared at him. The hand which held the knife wrapped so tightly around the hilt that her knuckles turned white.

"Can you forgive me if I shut the door on your face now?" She replied with an eerie calmness.

Loki's eyes cast downwards as he sighed. "I believe I would deserve that."

Silently, she opened the door wide enough for Loki to step inside. When he still stood outside, unsure whether to take the step or not, she spat, "Are you just going to stand there and let the cold wind rush in or are you going to do something?"

Nodding lightly, he stepped inside the cottage while (Y/N) closed the door.

Loki was home again. Or was he?

"I shall run a warm bath for you. Give me a moment."

He tried to call her but the name evaporated into an empty room as she ignored him and left.

She returned after a while, the same indifference stamped on her face.

"The bath is ready. You should find everything you need at hand. You may leave your clothes on the rack. I shall be back in a while."

"Where are you going?"

"To get some clothes for you. Despite what some might think, I do not have any man's clothes in my house."

Before Loki could utter a word, she exited the house, closing the door in her wake.

The damage that he had done lay bare before his eyes. A few moments of doubt and insecurity tore down everything that they had built over the years.

By the time she returned with a bunch of fresh but borrowed laundry, the house was quiet. She assumed that Loki was still in the bath.

"Are you still in there?" She asked with a small tap on the bathroom door.

"Uh...yes! Yes, I am."

"Try not to fall asleep in there. There are better ways to die than drowning in a bathtub."

Loki emerged from the bathroom a few moments later, a towel wrapped around his torso. She noticed that he had become thinner. A few faint scratches and small bruises marked his ivory skin here and there, especially his limbs. One particularly large and prominent bruise beside his right knee made her breath hitch.

Old habits urged her to run and wrap herself around him, to soothe all his pains, to kiss him all over and make love to him until they both fell asleep entangled in one another.

But recent events chained her from doing so. Swallowing the lump in her throat, she averted her eyes.

"There is a set of clean clothes on the bed. They may not fit perfectly but that is all I could manage in the middle of the night. I shall get you a new wardrobe tomorrow morning."

"(Y/N)!" Loki tried to stop her from walking away. "Please! Can I get one moment with you? Please?"

She still refused to look at him. "Have something first. And then we shall talk."

Loki stared at her as she disappeared into the kitchen. He had set this up for himself. And he should be the one fixing this, if only he could get a chance to.

As Loki had already assumed, dinner was unusually quiet. There wasn't much on the table - he did not expect anything at all in those late hours, especially after what he had done - but everything that was served smelled delicious. The fact that (Y/N) had prepared it all herself made them all the more special for him.

She sat quietly on the opposite end of the small table.

Clearing his throat, he asked timidly, "I know that you might have already had your meal but…will not have anything? You like midnight snacks, do you not?"

"Used to. And I am full anyway. You may start."

This was not going anywhere; at least not this way. He needed to give her more time, he realised.

Taking a deep breath, he took the first bite. Instinctively, his eyes closed and a moan left his sealed lips. He was starving and the food tasted divine in his mouth.

As (Y/N) observed him, a tiny smile surfaced on her stern features. But she quickly hid it before Loki opened his eyes.

Who knows how long he might have been starving!

The thought made her shiver. Her eyes almost welled up but she fought her emotions back, trying her best not to reveal herself before him.

"You are an exceptional cook!"

But Loki's compliment was met with another sharp response.

"I am average. It is only because you are famished that you find it good."

Loki did not utter another word until the meal was finished.

"Thank you, (Y/N), for having me."

His words did stop her in her tracks but she said nothing.

"Please, (Y/N)."

Loki placed a gentle hand on her shoulder, and the next thing that he felt was the sharp sting of cold metal on his Adam's apple.

Her face was inches away from his. She wore a facade of anger and hatred but her eyes shone with unshed tears.

"If you wish to kill me, I shall not fight," he spoke without wincing. "But please, I beg of you, do not alienate me. Do not push me away, please, love! I have suffered enough. And in that, I have made you suffer, too. Forgive me, (Y/N). Can you?"

"You said I did not deserve you," her hand shook just like her voice did. "You snapped our bond. You did not trust me. You accused me of infidelity when you know how much I love you!"

"I am sorry, love. I truly am! I… I saw you both together and… I do not know! I am sorry!" A tear rolled down his bony cheek.

"But you did not come back." The tears that had been held back were now cascading down her face.

"I did! I did but… I did not know how to face you. Or Thor. For eleven days and nights I roamed in and out of your village. I did not show myself to anyone lest they should tell you."

"And would that have been so bad?"

"I did not know how you would react. Or if you would have me. But then-"

"Then what?" The words came out but in whispers.

"I could not take it anymore. I had to come to you even if you kicked me out or killed me."

"I…" Words failed her. Everything became a blur as a tsunami of emotions tossed violently within her.

"Please accept me, (Y/N)," Loki's eyes bore into hers. "Please tell me that you still love me."

They did not realise when they had come so close that the words were almost breathed on each other's mouths. The knife that was held to his throat dropped to the floor with a sharp clang, and it was only then that they noticed their proximity.

She was unsure whether to act on her desires or to bring her ego between them.

"Please love me, (Y/N)!"

How could she say no to that plea?

Shoving her ego aside, she wrapped a hand around his neck and pulled him closer, immediately pressing her lips to his. They remained that way for a few seconds before moving with an impatience and a fervour that would have set the cottage aflame. His hands snaked around her waist and pulled her flush against him. Loki tilted his head to deepen the kiss, his tongue gliding against hers constantly in a harmonious dance. He tasted of apple pie. She tasted of cheap alcohol.

Her weight on him and the force with which she was kissing him, although immensely pleasurable, made him take a few steps backwards, thus making him hit the table. Bracing himself with his left hand, he regained his balance, and then mapped the said hand along her sides, remembering every curve along the way.

With a gentle push of his body, he took a few steps forward until their paths were blocked by a wall. Pinning her to it with his weight, he continued the ministrations of his mouth while his hands trailed the column of her neck, eventually causing one of them to get lost in her hair. The same happened to her: one hand felt the hardness and the warmth of his chest while the other was tangled in his dark locks. A quick tug on the hair at the nape of his neck resulted in a soft moan from the god: a blissful music to her ears!

When they finally tired themselves out, momentarily though, did they stop. Panting hard, breathing into each other's mouths, they remained still: bodies limp against one another, foreheads pressed together, hearts racing as they basked in the afterglow of their session.

"Tell me that you love me," Loki wished just loud enough for her to hear.

"Of course, I love you, you oaf!" She chuckled breathily. "Never doubt it. Ever!"

"It was a mistake I cannot forgive myself for."

"Now shut that beautiful mouth and come to bed," she slowly pulled herself away from his embrace. "You need rest. A lot of it."

"I do not. Not now. I need to love you," Loki insisted. "Please let me love you!"

"Believe me, I want to do nothing else but make sweet love to you." Loki's face brightened at the confession. "But that must wait. You need to heal first."

Seeing his frown, she laughed. It was just like old times again.

"Lie down with me?" She asked with a smile.

The god tried to protest but the yawn that broke through him declared otherwise.

Almost the entire night, or whatever was left of it, (Y/N) watched Loki: his bare chest rising and falling in the moonlight, like the sea during the tides, his hair splayed on the pillow challenging the night with its dark lustre. The mouth that had been kissing her passionately was now slightly parted. The movement beneath his closed eyelids spoke of some distant dream that he might be having. She silently prayed that it would be a good dream, one worth remembering.

The soft hum of the sea outside, paired with the cool light of the moon seemed to bring back the magic that was them.

And yet there was something off. The hollow of his cheeks were deeper than usual, his eyes were sunken and there were dark circles under them. And then there were the scars and bruises. She wondered what unimaginable pain he might have had to go through all this time. Questions regarding his escape from the ship, his whereabouts and other things spiralled her down an unfathomable hole, exhausting her mind thoroughly in the process.

(Y/N) did not realise when she had drifted off to sleep. When she awoke, she found the comfortable weight of an arm around her waist. Sleep-laden eyes opened to find a pair of green orbs staring at her face with an adoration that almost made her cry. Soft sunlight peeked in through the curtains, lighting the room up with a heavenly glow. Or was it the presence of the god that made it all so special?

She did not know. She did not care. Loki was with her. She was in his arms. That was all that mattered. Everything else had to be beautiful!

"Did you sleep well?" Loki's deep voice, accentuated by the raspiness of sleep, floated into her ears like ethereal music.

"I did. After a long, long time, I did sleep well. And you?"

"Same here." His face contorted as he tried to stifle an obstinate yawn.

(Y/N) giggled, "Just let it out!" And he obeyed.

For a long while they lay awake, simply looking at each other, tracing lazy patterns on one another, neither willing to put an end to the moment.

"I cannot believe I finally found you," Loki smiled.

"You always do," she played with a strand of his hair.

"First things first," he said and placed his fingers against her temple.

She felt the same tingling sensation that she had felt years ago when Loki had shared his magic with her.

"Do you feel me now?" He asked with a soft smile.

"More than ever!" A tear escaped down the corner of her eye.

Loki leaned in and placed a chaste kiss on her mouth, followed by another, and another, until they were both entangled with each other, their lips and tongues caressing the other ardently.

His hand grazed the length of bare skin on her legs until he was met with the hem of her pyjama shorts. Pushing past the barrier, his fingers trailed upwards. Her breath hitched when his hand rolled over and squeezed her clothed ass.

"Loki…" She moaned breathily as her tongue gently traced the column of his neck until she found that sweet spot below his ear that always turned him into jelly. There, she left a small bite, immediately soothing it with a lap of her tongue.

The groan that left Loki urged her to explore the skin of his shoulder, down his collarbone and onto his chest. She left small, open-mouthed kisses as she moved downwards, taking the skin between her teeth here and there, earning her precious rewards of hisses and groans from Loki. Moving upwards, she gently rolled a nipple between her teeth, and watched as Loki's head rolled backwards.

"Still sensitive, are we?" She smirked while Loki looked at her with lust-filled eyes, his gorgeous mouth hanging open in anticipation.

(Y/N) worked her tongue and teeth on his chest, making him produce all kinds of sinful sounds, before moving south again. Meanwhile Loki's hands moved across her back, trying hard to peel the t-shirt off her but failing.

Amidst all the lust and need, her mind worried about the marks on his otherwise perfect skin.

What were they? What happened? How?

But she did not want the moment to be ruined. Carefully threading her way through the marks, she carried on her path of desire.

“Tell me if I hurt you, will you?” She smiled at him.

“You can never hurt me,” he rasped.

“Just tell me if I do,” she insisted, and he nodded.

Before long she found the trail of dark hair that led to the treasure they had both been awaiting. The bulge in his sweatpants was inviting. But instead of giving Loki what he wanted, she continued her trail of kisses over his clothed skin, her thumb exploring the secrets just beneath the waistband. This continued for a while, making Loki even more frustrated. 

Just as she was about to hook her fingers under the band of the pants, she was flipped. With a squeal, she landed on the mattress, with Loki hovering over her.

"You have been a tease for quite long, darling," he growled. Oh, how she loved that sound! "Now, it is my turn. But first, this has to go." He tugged the t-shirt that she was wearing.

"Do not tear it, please!" (Y/N) quickly held his wrist before he could rip it in shreds. "I do not have many," she confessed with a sad smile.

Loki's eyes softened at the admission. "I will not."

Gently, and with her help, he pushed the garment up and over her arms, until it was lying on the floor.

The sight before him made him groan. Bending down, he buried his face in her naked chest and inhaled her scent, followed by a soft kiss. Slowly but intentionally, his hands mapped her breasts, kneading and squeezing them. His tongue and teeth played with the taut bundles on top making her whimper and squirm beneath him, until he released her with a small pop!

With hands still locked on the swells of her chest, his mouth made its way downwards, the curls on his head leaving a feathery tickle in their wake.

"May I?" He asked with his fingers hooked under the band of her shorts.

"Stop being a tease!!" She whined, making him laugh.

But Loki had to be a tease. He pulled the band down as slow as possible, kissing every inch of skin that was being exposed in the process.

"Damn you!" She cursed.

This made him finally whisk away the fabric, adding it with the other discarded piece.

"You are so gorgeous!" His breath, hot on her mound, made her rub her thighs together.

"No, darling, keep them open for me." He gently parted them with his hands, and lowered his head.

"Loki!" It was not a moan or a whine. It was a call that made him look at her with worry.

"Not now," she pleaded. "I need you right now. Please!"

"Good. For I cannot bear this any longer."

By the time Loki got rid of the pants, (Y/N) was sitting on her knees, unable to hold herself anymore. Hugging her tight, he brought her on his lap, and kissed her passionately, grinding himself on her wet folds all the time.

Hoisting her up, he aligned himself with her and slowly brought her down until he was fully sheathed in her. Closing their eyes, they both relished the feeling for a few seconds - the feeling of being one, of being complete, of reliving all similar memories that they had created together back in Asgard.

She latched her mouth to his, and slowly started moving. It was slow, unhurried, unlike their state of mind a couple of minutes ago, and like the movement of their tongues in that very moment. She could feel him everywhere, inside her, outside her, as though she was enveloped in him. After all these years, she felt a sharp sting at the stretch. But it was a pain she was willing to bear everyday if it meant that she could be with Loki.

(Y/N) rotated her hips leisurely, while Loki placed open-mouthed kisses along her collarbone. Eventually, she started increasing her pace, turning his kisses into grazes of teeth.

That was until Loki could take no more. Digging his fingers into her hips, he took control of her movements. This new manoeuvre left her empty with only the tip inside before he slammed into her, reaching her deepest parts. A loud scream escaped her as he touched her most sensitive parts.

Loki shushed her. He panted between his thrusts, "You…do not…want…the…village…to-"

"I cannot help it!" She shouted.

That very moment, her walls fluttered around him, and a loud animalistic groan escaped him.

"See?" She smirked.

Loki locked his mouth with hers, both of them moaning and panting into each other, muffling the sounds that should have remained only within the confines of their chambers.

"Touch yourself!" Loki commanded.

When she did not obey, he admitted, "I shall not last long. Please, love, touch yourself. I want to come with you."

This time she did as was asked, reaching between their sweaty bodies, rubbing herself as Loki incessantly rocked her and slammed into her. Biting on the sensitive skin on his neck she let out a guttural moan as the coil in her stomach tightened. Her walls clenched around him, making him cry out her name. His movements became sloppy and so did hers. Holding her tight and burying his face in her shoulder, he pushed into her a few more times before asking her to let go, finding his own release with her.

They remained still for a while, catching their breath, floating in bliss and peppering each other with kisses wherever possible. At length, she pulled away but just enough to give him a long kiss on the mouth.

"Do these hurt?" She lightly traced his scars.

He shook his head slowly.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"Not now."

Nodding, she pressed another kiss to his lips. A confusion spread across her face when Loki wrapped her legs around his waist.

"What are you doing?" She smiled.

"Hold on tight."

"What-"

Her question was left incomplete as Loki grabbed her ass with one hand and, balancing himself with the other hand, got off the bed with her.

"We do not want to spoil the sheets, do we?" A mischievous glint shone in his eyes. "And… I was feeling sort of lonely in the bath yesterday. Would you like to join me?"

"Certainly!" She kissed him as he carried her to the bathroom, still buried inside her.

—-----

"It is time we told Thor. And everyone for that matter," (Y/N) said while preparing brunch.

Before Loki could answer, a loud knock startled them.

"Lady (Y/N)," Thor's voice boomed, "it has been quite late and you have not been out of your house. Are you feeling unwell?"

"Let me handle this," Loki, clad in the clothes from the previous night, sauntered towards the door.

Taking a deep breath, he opened the door. "Hello, brother!"

The said brother stood still like a statue for a few seconds before landing a hard punch to the younger one's face.

Hearing someone stumble, (Y/N) came running to the scene to see Thor pull Loki into a bear hug. He was sobbing.

"It is good to see you, too, brother," Loki smiled and patted his back.

Home was indeed beautiful.

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

***

In case you haven't read Part 01, here it is.

Please, please LIKE and REBLOG if you have enjoyed this! Your COMMENTS and LOVE are my motivations!! 🙂

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[pandasan-power]

Zeke is my favourite fictional character. He's just so... fascinating. He's initially presented as weird and mysterious but he turns out to be a giant dork and a huge loser with the most severe daddy issues I've ever seen.

I love him so much. Here's a very long ramble that's kinda sorta a character analysis (it's bad though).

He gives off Reddit mod energy (then again, Eren has Discord mod energy (disclaimer: I love Eren too)), has the sense of humour of a 12 year old, hangs around people who are quite a bit younger than him (granted, his only other option is creepy old military men), has smoked since he was probably like 15 and spends his life "pretending" to be stupid.

And yet he genuinely cares about other people in his own way. He really did just want to make it so that Eldians didn't have to suffer. He assumed that because he had a shit life and was treated terribly (as were his parents), everyone else was in the same boat. It never occured to him that other Eldians were happy, because, like, why would they be?

He's willing to go to the ends of the earth and beyond to fulfill his mission, which he's held on to since he was a teenager. Even though Ksaver did plant the seeds for Zeke, Zeke came up with his plan himself. Ksaver never mentioned anything about reproduction, just that the Founder could be used to alter Eldian biology.

He's devasted when Eren goes "lol jk bro" and betrays him, because he finally found someone he thought he could trust (his first mistake was trusting Eren of all people). He couldn't understand why Eren went against his plan, or what Eren was even trying to accomplish in the first place.

Also, I think it's worth mentioning that Zeke's euthanasia plan undermines everything Ymir Fritz went through. She suffered severely, but I like to imagine that she really did love her daughters to the best of her ability. Zeke saying that Eldians would be better off not existing in the first place and that he's going to get rid of them is telling Ymir Fritz that all her suffering was for absolutely fucking nothing. Whereas Eren wants Eldians to live on, because that way, Ymir can be freed, and she can see that there is beauty in the world (which she did via Mikasa, as badly explained as it was lol).

Zeke never saw that beauty. He was brainwashed and abused and taken advantage of his entire life. By his parents, by Marley (yes, even Ksaver), and, later, by Eren. To him, there was nothing redeeming about the world.

Hence his final line where he talks about what a lovely day it is and how nice/clear the sky is, but that it ultimately is too late to realise that (? I haven't read the chapter in a while, I don't remember the exact wording). That's him acknowledging that he was wrong about the world lacking beauty.

Yes, Ksaver did care for him and did love him, but he did also use Zeke for his own gain. He was projecting his son onto Zeke, as he said so himself in canon, and he was also hoping that Zeke could accomplish what he (Ksaver) wasn't able to. Zeke may not have been as determined to save the Eldians (in his own way) if he hadn't spent time with Ksaver.

Zeke and Eren are fascinating to me, because Eren threw away his humanity in order to save the world/his loved ones, yet was very upset that he had to do so (given his paths convo with Armin), yet Zeke... was stripped of most of his humanity before he had a chance to even embrace it. My personal interpretation is that he never realised he was lacking humanity (which is something Levi kept trying to point out, especially in the forest with reminding Zeke about his Rakago crime) because death and killing were so normalised to him (and to him, his enemies weren't human because they were mostly Eldians and he, as an Eldian, wasn't considered human -- or at least he may have used that as a justification for his actions), and it wasn't until the very end that it hit him.

Lastly, part of why I love the dynamic between Zeke and Levi is that they're two sides of the same coin. They're both admired and feared by people (for different reasons), are traumatised in every possible way, and are similar yet also very different.

When they're interacting, neither of them give a shit about the other's status or powers or whatever. They fight like equals on par with each other and don't hold back. Warchief Zeke? Captain Levi? Nope. They're just Zeke and Levi to each other. (And they'd be friends if they were on the same side, maybe.)

ANYWAY Zeke Yeager is a great character and I love my monkeyman so much. He had such good character development and his backstory is really well done. The "I love you, Zeke" paths scene is my favourite since in all of SnK just for how much that means for both Grisha and Zeke.

[jackietaylorsghost]

I have a bit of a hot take regarding tlou/tlou2 which is that sometimes a parent will make a decision that goes against a child's wishes for their own wellbeing. I've heard it said "What parent wouldn't make the choice Joel did" and I think it relates to that, taking in everything with the fireflies and that Ellie is A Child, I think Joel was in the right to make that choice for her. I hope this doesn't come across as dismissive of Ellie, because I'm more trying to think of it from the point of view of a parent. Sorry this was so long.

i honestly think this is a very normal take and any to the contrary i find so baffling lol. like look we can debate all day about whether joel did the morally right or wrong thing in terms of the wider world and in regards to his lying too. i personally think he lied to alleviate ellie of this burden she was carrying that she personally had to save the world to make it up to her loved ones that they died and she didn’t. in the context of him telling her that he’d struggled with surviving but you had to find something to live for i can see his wish for her to not carry that burden cus ofc as a parent you wouldn’t want that and for me i think it’s a bit of a superficial take to say he saved her and then lied out of selfishness cus he couldn’t bear to lose her bcus whilst yes it benefits him too, i don’t see that as his primary reasoning - I think this is backed up too when he tells ellie that he’d do the whole thing again. that’s so striking to me cus the (stupid) consequence of his actions was losing a kid for a second time but despite that pain, knowing that consequence, he’d do it again. doesn’t smack of selfishness for me, i think that’s incredibly selfless of him actually considering he’d lost a kid before and took so long to get over it. but that’s MY interpretation and everyone’s will be different and i can at least acknowledge that.

but this continued nonsense about joel doing the wrong thing for ellie when he saved her bcus he was taking away her agency makes me want to die actually. it’s so fucking weird. ellie is ready to die bcus of TRAUMA. and that’s not actually a good reason to let a 14yr old kid die. if we wanna talk about agency/autonomy let’s talk about how the fireflies were attempting to manipulate/exploit ellie’s trauma and survivor’s guilt in order to justify what they were going to with her, cus that’s far more fucked up and is what ACTUALLY takes away ellie’s agency. it so fucking exploitative. ‘you know she’d want this’ well first of all then at least have the decency to actually ask her and second of all yeah i think she’d have agreed to it but wanting to out of guilt and trauma isn’t actually a free choice lol? and there should be no fucking debate on that. joel absolutely did the right thing to stop them.

i think a big part of this agency/autonomy thing is a result of part 2 lol. i think it’s easy to use it as some war cry to justify why joel had absolution coming to him and deserved to be beaten to death the disgusting way he was. almost as though it’s some sort of justification for abby and liking her. joel had it coming blah blah he stole the cure from the world and he took away ellie’s agency go abby!! which is just bullshit imo but what can you do.

what i think is the biggest shame of all is that part 2, in its attempt to justify a complete estrangement between joel and ellie so that her suffering would be Worse when he died (cus they didn’t give her enough trauma in that horrible game), went with this idea of ellie being mad that joel took away her chance to have a life that mattered. that fucking sucks for me cus she’s my favourite character and i wanted more for her. i wanted to see her overcome that trauma and let go of her guilt by realising it wasn’t her fault her friends died and i most of all wanted her to realise her life ALWAYS mattered and that’s why joel saved her. instead ofc the narrative wouldn’t work unless we had 25 hours of it being shoved down our throats that joel was so Wrong for saving ellie that they didn’t examine his actions and the reasons with any nuance or care, it was just so superficial and boring and heavy handed. how sad that at 14 ellie was ready to die bcus of trauma and thought her life didn’t matter/have value unless she was a cure and at 19 she still thought her life didn’t matter cus she wasn’t a cure. she deserved better. from the narrative AND this fandom that, if they actually cared about her as a character, wouldn’t keep banging on about joel taking away her agency/autonomy and would have wanted to see the same growth in her i wanted to see instead of thinking it’s some great masterpiece that she’s completely stagnant, even after she’s been tortured relentlessly for 25 straight hours lmao. i find it all so bizarre to see ppl claim to care about ellie but don’t see anything wrong with how the devs treated her in order to tell their misery porn story. these are the same ppl who so patronisingly write on this app about how they’re ‘the real fans’ (ive had this directed to me personally) cus they were sooooo clever to understand part 2 lmfaoooo.

anyway this got away from me and was far bitchier in parts than id intended it to be ajsjjs it just Grinds My Gears when this agency crap comes up cus it’s ridiculous BUT yes i agree with you completely.

[cock-ainee]

I fucking hate my father. I despise him. I hope he dies and leaves me, and my mom the fuck alone.

I hate how he makes me feel fucking worthless even though he's the one that ruins my whole life. From the beginning to start. I hate how for the most of my life, i felt like what he does to me is normal. That every kid is forbidden from watching stupid fucking tv (TOTALLY), that every kid gets yelled at and hit all the time. It was just a few years ago that i started realising that what he does is seriously fucked up. For me it's just another shitty day, but if someone "normal" knew what was going on their brain would fucking explode. It's been quite a lot of time since he's been regularly beating me up, but i don't know if what he does now isn't even worse. It's not like i take anything he says really to me, but it just frustrates me so much that i'm getting mentally abused even though i've done nothing wrong. His constant complaints about my weight (made by a bastard who's fucking obese) and hearing that i'm stupid, useless and other shit are driving me insane.

Lately my mom said something about my cousin passing the matura with 100% from math. It was during diner. What did that dick say??

"if (...) ate all this she'd pass that too"

Yeah??? Maybe i'd have a chance to pass with such a score if i studied, instead of overworking my ass off for nothing. Because nobody pays me here. They just demand i work 24/7 instead of giving any attention to school and still do good. It worked in primary school because i was just smart. But i'm in fucking high school, and i should study if i want to even just pass the fucking matura. But what can i do, when after i come back from school i immediately go to work, and when i actually get back home i'm exhausted?? Totally?? Even worse on days off of school. I sometimes overthink, thinking that I'll never get anywhere, i won't pass those stupid exams. And yk what?? Matura is useless on it's own. I'd have to go to college to actually get any job qualifications. But i'm not fucking planning to. I'm done with all this crap. And i wouldn't make it. I can't even talk to people, because i'm fucking afraid, how am i supposed to get a job.

And even if i get one, how am i supposed to last. My back hurts so fucking much already, and i'm always sore somehow. I've worked since i was a kid and that's already taking a toll on me. I'm worn out.

I don't even know how he can sleep peacefully, knowing he's ruined a person. That his own kid hates him. That his own kid wonders why she was even born, and what has she ever done to be born where she was. That his own kid wants to kill herself. I don't know how tf he doesn't feel guilty.

My older stepsis moved away as soon as she turned 18. She always hated me, because her and mom had to move to our house when mom got with my mother. I always hated her too, we were fighting a lot, but i guess she understood she's not the only one, and that i'm suffering exactly the same thing. We're on good terms with each other. At least that's good.

I want to leave, but i can't. I can't tell anyone about this, or there will be a huge drama, probably i'd get taken away from my family, and i don't want to be dependent on anybody, because as soon as i can i wanna get away as far as possible. I just need 2 fucking years, I'll be an adult and finish school if i'm lucky enough. If i pass this year. I probably would, if not for math. But my teacher is nice, i should be able to do something about it at least.

Do yall want to know who you're talking with though? You're talking with a person who slept outside, or snuck in trough the window because she's been to afraid to open the front door while walking into the house. With a person who hid from her father because he was angry. A girl who got judged for every single thing she did

When i see or hear other dads, who are supportive towards their kids i want to cry. I just wish i was born into a normal family, and felt loved.

(i'm putting that "for adults" thingy because i don't want my post to be immediately visible, like, i think what i just said was cringe but i needed to vent a lil even if nobody listens)

[autiponi]

CHAPTER 2

Emptiness, darkness, silence and strange sounds at the same time. It surrounded Blackjack, for longer than she would have liked, and there was a searing, excruciating pain all over her body, the presence of which made her even more anxious.

In the midst of it all, however, she heard... someone's voice reassuring her. It was comfortingly warm, calm. And even though she did not understand what he was saying, it gave her hope.

She had no memory of what had happened in the temple, only the blurred images of the fight and of herself falling slowly to the ground, the stench of her own blood in her nostrils.

Soon, however, there was a small light and in it a silhouette that looked familiar, very familiar...

The figure seemed to be talking to someone, she wasn't sure... this silhouette had a voice that reassured her.

She finally began to understand where she was, it was a hospital in London.

Although she tried very hard, she didn't have the strength to move. A silhouette approached her with a reassuring smile. That calmed her down and she stopped squirming.

-Calm down Amelia... you are still too weak to get up, please rest.

She felt him holding her hand. She wanted to say something, but she felt she could not.

She obeyed his request and gently closed her eyes to fall asleep again. At least the time will pass more quickly...

...

Jeremy stayed with Blackjack for a few more minutes, analysing her condition until another doctor arrived.

-What are you still doing here, Jer? I've been assigned this patient and there are others waiting.

-Ah, yes, I know... I understand... But listen, can you please assign her to me for treatment? She is an acquaintance of mine from my college days.... I know exactly how to help her and...

-Lover?

-NO! I mean... no. Just a very close friend. It's not my first time treating her, so I think I have a knack for it.

-Do what you like, I'll put her papers on your desk and get on with the rest. Lately we've had a lot of patients coming in for assaults....It doesn't look good.

-I've heard about it. Supposedly many of these incidents are caused by people from other worlds.... But that's not important at the moment. Is she badly hurt?

-Just so you know, something practically went through her. It didn't hit any of her major organs though, so she's miraculously alive, mostly just needs stitches and blood... a lot of blood.

-History likes to repeat itself... I'll get to it as soon as I can.

As the other doctor left, Jeremy looked at Blackjack with a sad expression as he lightly held her hand.

-I wanted to see you, but not like this...

...

Blackjack woke up. She didn't know how much time had passed, maybe it had been a few minutes, an hour or a whole day....

But it didn't matter, what mattered was that she finally felt like she had the strength to do something.

Slightly clumsily, she sat up on the bed, noticing the gentle rays of sunlight from the window, so she had probably slept through the night as well as the previous day.

She also looked at her hands, the 'normal' one had a tube of blood running through it, while the electronic one had suffered no damage apart from the varnish peeling off.

-I'm starting to remember what happened... it's not good, wait...

Horrified, she quickly rolled up her shirt. The wound from A-1's katana had been stitched up, only then did she feel it again and a shiver ran through her, however she associated the style of stitching with it, she realised that it was probably Jeremy who had to put it back together, she had to be grateful to him once again. But that wasn't what bothered her the most, it was the thought that her first mission had ended so badly, she felt stupid, she felt she could have prevented it somehow.

-Mike would kill me if he saw me like this... well, I'm surprised he's still alive!... those documents... I hope she hasn't taken them from me... although it's unlikely... Fuck...

...

Jeremy sat by the hospital room where Blackjack was. He must have fallen asleep waiting for her to wake up, as he had for the last two days, worrying too much about her. But to his delight, he heard through the door that she was finally awake, which immediately lifted his spirits.

-It's about time... the staff probably wouldn't last another day with me here...

She heard the soft crunch of the door opening. There on her threshold was Jeremy, a modest but warm and broad smile appearing on his tired face. Tears of emotion also appeared on Blackjack's face.

-Well... we met... A little differently than I had planned, but still!

-You better come here and stop talking nonsense!

Jeremy sat down in a nearby chair. Blackjack felt like hugging him, but more pain put that idea out of her mind.

-So... how are you feeling? I hope the stitches don't hurt too much.

-It's been better... but it's all right. It was you who stitched me up again, wasn't it?

-Tradition done?

-Come on... this is the third time. I really don't know what I'd do without you... I feel so stupid.

-I'm sure you'd be a hand and a head poorer, but those are details.

Blackjack laughed warmly.

-Yes, "details"... You haven't changed a bit.

-You know, a rooster survived even though its owner had chopped off its head.

-Well, I think I'll leave my head on, there's more to do.

-Decidedly! By the way, there was someone else here waiting for you. He said you work for him... I don't want you to pry, but... who was it?

-Mike... this one seems to know everything that's going on with me....  Ugh.

-He's had time, I think. You were practically unconscious for three days.

-Yeah, well... that's saying a lot. He brought me here, didn't he?

-No, definitely not. You were brought in by a woman, the first time I'd ever really seen her. She had white hair and square glasses, and a lot of freckles, and her clothes were dirty from the paint....She was very worried about you, but she never came back to see you after that, although to be honest I would have liked to, she seemed really nice.

-I hope to see her again... I must thank her that I'm alive because of her...as much as you...again.

She looked at Jeremy, his face had changed a lot since the old days. He had visibly grown older, but at the same time he was visibly thinner, even sickly thin.

-It's nothing, it's what I'm supposed to do.

Although he smiled, Blackjack sensed that something was wrong with him. She became increasingly concerned and touched his cheek lightly.

-Are you all right, Jer?

-Hm? What do you mean?

-You look... different. You even seem a little sick to me, that's why I'm asking.

-It's great!... yeah, don't worry. It's because it's still early in the morning... once I get some sleep, everything will be back to normal. Back to you though, you lost something else during your dying days.

He took an object from his bag and handed it to Blackjack, abruptly avoiding the subject of himself.

-Maybe you remember John from the first class? He ended up as an Interdimensional Equipment Technician! He fixed your portal tool yesterday when I sent it to him .... It must have taken a lot of hits because it was broken for good... By the way, you didn't tell me you finally got a pass!

-I completely forgot to tell you! Thank him for me, I will try not to spoil it when I die again... .... it will come in handy for sure.

Warm laughter filled the room. They talked about everything and nothing at the same time, about the old school, new experiences and also projects. Blackjack had been friends with Jeremy since they were students, and they wanted to conquer the world as great technicians. Eventually, however, their career paths diverged when Jeremy became more involved in medicine than technology. Blackjack didn't resent this, she knew that as his best friend she had to support him even if things didn't go their way together, it worked out well for her in the end, that way Jeremy could always help her even in the worst situation she was in. While they were talking, however, they heard someone knocking on the door of her room, and Jeremy, a little surprised to have a visitor at this hour, opened it gently.

On the doorstep was Mike.

-Oh, good morning, I suppose for Mrs Amelia?

-Yes, is she awake?

-Of course, you can talk to her if you need to.

-I would ask, but alone, business matters.

-Of course. I'll wait in the corridor, Amelia.

Jeremy left the room and waited in the corridor, Mike walked over to the bed and sat down in a chair, looking at Blackjack from head to toe with a blank stare.

-You're lucky to be alive, you know that?

-I'd hardly be unaware of it with a fuckin' tube in my hand, believe me.

-I expect, but I hope the next few jobs go our way...and on the bright side, you didn't screw up that badly after all.

Blackjack looked at Mike. He did not know how to react to these words.

-That's it? No reprimand or anything? Really?

-The fact that you are in hospital is probably enough. After all, you've done your job, because the documents are safe with me... So I have no reason to... unless you really want me to, then I think I can comply with your request.

-I don't think you need to.... Anyway, are you going to throw me in at the deep end on your next mission?

-Depends on how you look at it, although it might be a bit easier, or not.

-Details?

She was getting a little impatient.

-Not now, and certainly not here...this is the hospital end of things.

-Great, just great!

-Are you in such a hurry to get to work? really lovely.

-No, I'm not in a hurry at all! But the information is very useful....  I really don't want to end up here again when I leave. Are you aware of this?

She lay back down on the bed and looked away, holding her hand over her face suggestively.

-All right, let me get this straight, the death of .... demon does not bother you?

She suddenly looked back at Mike.

-A demon? A... demon?

-A demon lord, to be precise. He's old now... and not as powerful as he used to be. You can help me with a little decon on him...it'll be less dangerous than going straight into the lion's mouth like A-1.

-I've never seen demons, I don't think it's a good idea... where did you get that idea anyway?

-An old issue that has to do with it... I really can't say more at the moment. Your father-

-I'll never trust you if we play a game like this. If you're going to keep doing this to me, then take my passport.

She looked at the wall again, Mike sighed and slowly stood up.

-I'll give you some time to think about it. I have time, but I don't know about you. I'll tell you as much as I need to when we meet in a better place. Here they can watch us ... I'm really sorry.

Mike left something on Blackjack's locker as he slowly left the room. Jeremy went straight to her and when he got to the bed he was immediately hugged.

-Don't mind me... it's just, I really need it right now.

-I-I think I understand... I don't mind anyway.

Jeremy tried to return Blackjack's hug a little, but she hugged him even tighter. This was not normal for her, she usually avoided this kind of contact with anyone.

-I don't know how to thank you for being here... just... thank you for being Jer... I, I'm sorry.

-You don't have to thank me or apologise... it'll be fine.

Blackjack sat in the hug for a long moment, and at the same time there was a silence in the room, deafening yet soothing for both of them.

It also caused Blackjack to fall asleep in Jeremy's arms. She hadn't realised how tired she was from so many things at once.

-I have missed you over the years.

He gently laid her back down on the hospital bed and covered her with a warm blanket. He wanted this moment to last forever, or at least a little longer, but unfortunately he had to go now, so he gently closed the door of the hospital room behind him and returned to the empty hospital corridor. As he walked, however, he sensed that something was wrong. His legs and arms suddenly felt like cotton wool and he could no longer control his body properly. Again.

He fell to the ground with a thud, unable to move his whole body.

-That just now... why...

He tried to scream, to call for help... but he could not get a single word out. He felt weak, sluggish, he would probably stay like that for a long time, but at the same time a miracle happened... one of the nurses came and noticed him lying on the floor in pain.

-We've asked you a hundred times, Jeremy, not to go out without your wheelchair! Do you know what could have happened if I hadn't come to get you?

-I'm sorry... I couldn't show myself to her like this.... I don't want her to start worrying about me...

-Who would... ugh, it doesn't matter who! You should have remembered all along that there's no good reason... we don't want you to die in the corridor!

-Yes, I know... I won't anymore... I promise...

-Every time you say it... you better keep your promise. Let's get some rest... -I'm not surprised you fell here, you've been under this door for three days!

-Yes, I know... luckily I don't have to anymore.

-At least... just out of curiosity, who was the man who entered the patient earlier? I was afraid to say that a giant had come to the hospital!

-Amelia's employer... I don't know much about him... I don't even know if she knows herself.

HAWOOOO! THANK U FOR READIN MY COMIC!!!! I-I dunno what to type.

Just, thanks for this time together!

I also invite you to visit the website, there is a really cool introduction to the world!

Anyway, cya!

[vault81]

My OC's opinions on the factions in Fallout!

Starting off with Eliza (One half of my Lone Wanderer/Courier 6 twins)

Brotherhood of Steel: Eliza's opinion of the Brotherhood of Steel has definitely gone through several changes ever since she left the vault, being exposed to Lyon's chapter first was probably not the best! Since they focused more on humanitarian aid first and the gathering and preservation of technology second. Also, the fact they were slightly less bigoted. She certainly thought their 'hoarding' of technology was a bit strange, but she thought their intentions were in the right place. Maybe she thought that one day they would be distributed to communities in the wasteland to help in their rebuilding.

Then with the Mojave chapter she began to see the Brotherhood in a new light, wallowing in stagnation and isolationism. Too scared of the outside world and the “what-ifs”, scared of becoming obsolete in a world that no longer requires them or their philosophy, scared of the 'other' the outsiders too proud to allow them into their ranks. They'd rather slowly wither away than admit to their own wrongdoings and change. Eliza would now realise that this is what the Brotherhood of Steel was meant to be, that the Outcasts were not an outlier, but the only “true” remaining part of the East Coast chapter. And she'd hate that, especially after seeing the Brotherhood massacre the Followers outpost just to stop the chance that Brotherhood secrets would escape their grasp.

She wouldn't encounter Elder Maxsons chapter of the Brotherhood, but safe to say her opinion of the group would go even lower then. Probably helping either the Minutemen or the Railroad in defeating them (if it came to that, and she really hopes it does)

New California Republic: I don't think Eliza would entirely hate the NCR, there are a lot of aspects of it she does dislike, namely its expansionist and imperialist tendencies (also let's not forget the rampant corruption and war crimes). But, I think she would begrudgingly tolerate them and the progress they've made in rebuilding since the bombs fell. Even if she thinks it's fucking stupid to base your government and its structure AFTER the one that just collapsed and suffered from the same problems theirs do. She'd probably do the bare minimum when it comes to working for them. Like helping out at the Mojave Outpost where she can and actually get HELIOS-ONE actually working properly (even if she distributes that power to the entire Mojave) after that though she'd leave them to clean their own messes up.

Followers of the Apocalypse: out of all the factions in Fallout, I feel like Eliza would like the Followers the most. An organisation separate from any government, just trying to help the common people of the wasteland, she thinks some members can be a bit idealistic sometimes, but they have their heart in the right place. She'd end up joining them post Hoover Dam, using her knowledge to help wasteland communities better establish themselves. She'd also probably be a bit more protective over them after what happened with the Mojave Chapter of the Brotherhood (also maybe she'd try to convince Veronica to join up with her)

Caesars Legion: TBH, I don't even think I need to elaborate here, it's safe to say she despises the Legion. She'd probably even just straight up attack The Fort with Boone to take down Caesar and any other leadership she encounters, freeing any slaves they come across. She'd think they're a pale imitation of an old world civilization structured during its decline, and she'd happily help anyone take them down.

Mr House: Eliza would not like Mr House at all, she thinks he's delusional and out of touch, desperate to wipe his hands of the planet and find a new one to ruin, maybe a hint of a fantasist in there. She almost admires his confidence in his own abilities, but knows that'll end up being his downfall. She'd use that when she betrays him for Yes Man, more than definitely getting a laugh out of the state he's in when she sees him in person (and maybe just a bit of pity).

The Enclave, well let's just start with the fact that they are responsible for her fathers' death. She wouldn't exactly be too fond of them over that, even if she wasn't too fond of her father either. So her hatred of the Enclave is very personal, She'd be very laser focused on that reason until they kicked them out of the purifier, only then letting herself learn more about the Enclave. Absorbing everything she could that the Brotherhood had, even digging through the ruins of Raven Rock to learn more. Purely to find out if they had any other bases or any weaknesses she could exploit, instead she'd learn all about the atrocities that they'd committed on both coasts. All in service to “Restoring America” for a country 200 years dead, she'd wonder how many people were sacrificed to that idea, too many she'd think. And for her, it was all for a worthless and pointless cause. Everything she learned about the pre-war USA made her believe it had no place in the modern wasteland, and if the Enclave believes themselves the true remnants of that old system, then that'd only reinforce it.

[wisteriashouse]

irresistible.

pairing: rengoku kyoujurou x reader

genre: fluff, nsfw, fuck or die troupe (i can’t believe i did this)

word count: 5015

remarks: a commission by the lovely @sburbanjumble​!! i hope you enjoy sweet and spicy kyoujurou <3 this is a rewrite of desire, but if kyoujurou were the one hit by the demon instead!

This demon is unlike any other you’ve ever faced before.

“Kyoujurou, follow up on my attack!” You shout as you press forward with your blade, putting all your strength in your arms as you aim for the demon’s neck. Eyes widening as your nichirin blade descends in a gleaming arc, the demon barely manages to throw up her arms in time to shield herself, and there’s a couple of wet thumps as her limbs fall to the grass, sliced clean off by your sword. Behind you, Kyoujurou leaps down, his sword held high as he swings.

“Flame Breathing, Third Form, Blazing Universe!”

You have to leap out of the way to dodge the shockwaves from Kyouojurou’s strike, so powerful that you feel the ground under your feet tremble for a second. Unfortunately for the both of you, the demon is just as fast as well - before Kyoujurou’s sword can cut clean through her neck, she vanishes in a cloud of sickly smelling smoke.

Your eyes dart around the darkness of the forest, blade already held up in an offensive stance for the slightest signal to attack, but Kyoujurou lands nimbly in front of you, holding out one hand to pull you back and the other gripping his own sword tight.

“We still don’t know what her abilities are or what her smoke does. Don’t be too hasty,” he warns you, voice low. Adrenaline is still pumping through your veins, but at your partner’s stern words, you force yourself to take a few breaths to calm yourself down. Breathe in, breathe out. Calm down.

“Okay, I got it.” Adjusting the grip on your sword once more, you let out a breath and hold up your blade. “I got caught up in the moment for a bit. Sorry about that.”

The battle hardened expression on Kyoujurou’s face breaks for just a second to beam at you warmly, and its familiarity puts you at ease. “It’s no problem,” Kyoujurou smiles. “You know I’ve always got your back no matter what-” his eyes widen for a split second at something behind you. “Watch out!”

Out of nowhere, however, five shining claws erupt out of the shadows straight towards you - only your reflexes, honed from years of training, allow you to dodge by jumping back right in time, the trace of a sickly sweet scent tickling your nose. Its regeneration speed is fast. Behind you, Kyoujurou slashes at the demon once more, but it vanishes into the darkness of the forest before the blade can connect. Disoriented and senses thrown into disarray by the sudden attack, you almost don’t notice fangs bared at you until it’s too late.

“[name]!” There’s a forceful tug on your arm and you’re sent stumbling forward a few steps, clouds of fuschia pink smoke erupting into the air right where you’d been standing less than a second ago. You’re left coughing and hacking as a sickly fragrance, but through the murky haze clouding your mind, you remember Kyoujurou, who was left standing in the spot that you’d been in prior.

“Kyoujurou!” Gripping your sword tightly with one hand and waving the residue smoke away from your face with the other, your eyes dart about the clearing, searching for Kyoujurou. “Are you alright?”

You find Kyoujurou surrounded by thick clouds of smoke and his hands clasped over his mouth, the demon responsible for it all cackling madly as she raises her claws, pointed tips glinting in the dim light of the moon. Before she can bring them down, however, you lunge forward with your blade with a forward strike, the tip of your blade piercing clean through her shoulder and pinning her against a tree. The pained scream that she lets out must have been heard for miles around.

You take this brief moment to glance back at Kyoujurou, heart hammering wildly in your chest with concern. “Kyoujurou, are you alright?” You call, voice urgent. Kyoujurou does not reply, instead shaking his head firmly as he hunches over, clearly in discomfort. Poison, perhaps? Anxiety floods through you, but you steel yourself and turn back to the demon.

“What did your smoke do to him?”

The demon only laughs at your demand, even as blood trickles down the wound on her shoulder. “Did you really think I would tell you? Think again! As if I would ever tell an accursed demon slayer like you-”

Gripping your sword by the handle, you wrench it with all your might and the demon lets out another shriek of agony, so shrill you can feel your ears ringing. “Maybe you didn’t hear me the first time,” you say icily, teeth gritted. While you take no pleasure in causing another creature’s pain, even demons, there’s only so much dallying you can take when Kyoujurou is suffering behind you. “Tell me, and I will speed your passing. If not...” You raise your sword in a wordless warning.

It is brief, but you catch the faintest flicker of fear in the demon’s eyes as she stares up at you. For good measure, you tighten your grip on your sword once more, ready to drive it into her flesh a second time, but she speaks.

“Fine,” she spits, her glare so venomous you can almost feel it eating away at your skin. “My smoke causes an... arousal of the human senses, sending them into overdrive and consuming the mind. If that man doesn’t lie with someone...” her smile is fanged with wicked amusement, “his mind will go insane with lust and he’ll suffer in agonizing pain!”

At her words, your breath is caught in your throat. As much as you want to say that all demons do is lie, from the look in her eyes to the triumphant grin on her blood stained lips, all the signs say that she is telling the truth. Unfortunately, you don’t have the time nor luxury to ponder over this too much, not when every second counts now.

“Then, just as I promised.” Yanking your sword from her flesh, you decapitate her with one swift strike - too fast for her to even let out another scream. Even before her severed head has hit the ground, you’re already running to Kyoujurou’s side, the man having sagged to his knees and only kept upright by the sword he’s driven into the ground to use as a crutch. Crouching next to him, you support his weight as gently as you can, but the heat radiating off his skin takes you by surprise. “Kyoujurou, you’re burning up!”

“I… I’m sorry,” Kyoujurou barely manages to make out between laboured breaths, his face twisted from the discomfort. Quickly, you raise a hand to wipe the sweat from his brow, but his hand latches onto your wrist before you can so much as touch his bare skin. He’s trembling faintly, as hard as he tries to conceal it from you, and it almost scares you to see him like this. “Don’t… Not when I’m like this. You should probably leave.”

“What?” You hiss at him, equal parts angry and baffled. “This isn’t a matter of pride, Kyoujurou! I know that you’re a Pillar, but you’ll most definitely not be fine like this. We need to get you to the nearest village, then we can think about what we can do from there. Maybe they’ll have strong enough painkillers that will be able to knock you out for a while, or something to help alleviate the pain-”

“The nearest village is at least a day’s travel from here,” Kyoujurou cuts you off, shaking his head urgently. “And besides, it’s not safe for you to be here with me right now.” You catch him glancing at you for a second before his gaze leaves you, but is that a hint of… desire you see flickering in his eyes? “The state the demon has put my body in is an unprecedented one… I don’t know what I’ll do to you like this. It would be safer if you put some distance between the two of us… I can already feel it growing worse.”

At his words, you frown in confusion for a moment before realisation descends upon you. So that’s what the demon had meant by arousal of the senses…

“But I can’t just leave you like this,” you begin to protest, anxious, but Kyoujurou waves you off.

“I’ll be fine.” Even though he’s the one in this state, he’s still trying to reassure you. “The blood demon art should wear off when dawn comes, so I need only endure this,” he shudders, body tensing up for a second, “until morning. There’s no need for you to worry.”

Even as Kyoujurou says these words, you can see his body starting to shake almost violently, his jaw clenched so hard that you can see the veins protruding along the side of his neck. It just makes you feel even worse when you remember that he had only gotten into this situation trying to save you, or else your roles would be reversed right now. Sunrise is still hours away. Chewing on your bottom lip, you force yourself to concentrate. Think, think, think! What did the demon say about his condition earlier?

If that man doesn’t lie with someone…

You falter for a moment. By lie, she can’t possibly have meant…

There’s no other meaning for the word lie that can be applied in this context, is there?

You glance worriedly at Kyoujurou, but the man only shakes his head. He must have heard the demon’s words from earlier and already made up his mind, without so much as consulting you, no less. Stupid, selfless, self sacrificing Kyoujurou. When will he learn to put himself before others for a change? Does he have any idea how you’ll feel leaving him to suffer like this until sunrise comes, all while knowing that you could have done something to fix this?

For some reason, that thought only frustrates you to no end, and making up your mind with that, you reach for the top button of your uniform.

Before you can begin undoing your shirt, however, Kyoujurou’s hand grips latches around your wrist, so hard you can almost feel the beginning of bruises forming on your skin. Kyoujurou is always careful whenever it comes to you, so it’s a testament to the extent that the blood demon art has affected him, his self control slipping away with each passing second. When you look up at him questioningly, his brow is furrowed with confusion, lips parted.

“What are you doing?”

“What does it look like I’m doing?” You hiss back, but you can feel your own fingers trembling slightly from the nerves. “If you… lie with me, it should relieve the pain brought about by the demon’s blood art. Friends would do this for each other, wouldn’t they?”

Would they, though? The thought just makes you uncomfortable, so you simply shrug it aside. You can think about that after you’ve solved Kyoujurou’s problem. However, Kyoujurou’s answer takes you by surprise.

“I cannot,” Kyoujurou says immediately, voice so firm you’re taken by surprise for a second. Is he perhaps worried about your discomfort? In comparison to the pain he seems to be in now, body wracked with shivers and teeth gritted so hard you can almost hear his jaw creak, it will be nothing.

“I really don’t mind,” you begin to say, but Kyoujurou cuts you off once more.

“No.”

“Kyoujurou, this is not the time to be stubborn,” you try to shrug him off, but the grip he has on your wrist is too tight. Frustrated, you glare up at Kyoujurou. You want to help him, but you can’t do anything if he insists on being like this. “Why do you reject me? Is it because I’m not good enough for you? To the point that you’d prefer to suffer like this?”

The more you shout, the more frustrated you feel, tears starting to escape the corners of your eyes. His rejection does sting, yes, but more than that is the helplessness you feel when you see him in pain, yet are unable to do anything to alleviate it.

“So you’re telling me to just walk away?” You continue to shout, voice breaking. Your throat feels thick. “Well, curse it, Kyoujurou, I can’t just do something like that. I-”

A gentle pressure on your lips cuts your words off, and you look up in surprise through wet lashes to see Kyoujurou’s finger pressed against your mouth to silence you. There’s a conflicted expression on his face, caught between a pained frown and a tender smile.

“Don’t say that,” he rasps quietly, managing a smile to comfort you even through his own pain. “You shouldn’t give your body so easily to me... it should be saved for the person that you want to give your heart to. Didn’t you tell me before that… there’s someone who you hold feelings for?”

You stare at him in shock. Why is he still thinking about something like this even now? And besides…

“I cannot possibly let you do that knowing that you have feelings for someone else,” Kyoujurou continues. He’s struggling to get the words out now, his breaths shallow. “So, there is no need to worry about me, I assure you that I will be fine-”

“What if,” your words come out a whisper, “I told you that someone is you?”

For a moment, nothing but those words hang in the silence between the two of you. Kyoujurou’s eyes are wide with shock, but you force yourself to hold his gaze, unwilling to back down. You’re determined to convey every bit of genuinity in your heart and make it known - perhaps the demon was in fact a blessing in disguise that created the circumstance to put aside your cowardice and reveal your true feelings to him now.

“I understand if you don’t return my feelings,” you say firmly, before Kyoujurou can say a word. “However, I too, assure you… that doing this with you…” it feels strange, saying it out loud like this, “it wouldn’t be a bad thing… to me at least. So please, let me help you.”

Kyoujurou is still staring at you, but then he lets out a pained groan and crumples over, unable to keep himself upright any longer. Frantic, you race over to help him up, but the second you touch him, you feel a pair of hands grip your waist before the entire night sky above seems to flip over your head. The next thing you know, you’re on your back in the grass, Kyoujurou straddling your hips. You can’t see the expression on his face, his breath ghosting the side of your neck.

You swallow, but raise a hand to rest it on the top of his head comfortingly. “You okay, Kyoujurou?”

“Ahh… this wasn’t how I wanted to do this,” Kyoujurou murmurs against the shell of your ear, and you almost yelp when you feel teeth roughly scrape the delicate skin.

“W-what, what do you mean?”

“It should have started with my confession,” your momentary shock is cast aside when you feel a large hand sliding up your side, up your ribs to the collar of your uniform shirt, playing at the top button as if to distract himself. “I would have brought you out to dinner, perhaps some flowers… and yet here we are, doing everything backwards. On the forest floor, no less. It is not the place I would have chosen for our first time together.”

All you can manage is a laugh, something akin to warmth burning in your chest as quiet joy overflows. “As long as it’s with you, I don’t mind,” you whisper. Taking his hand, you place it firmly against the top of your collar, the brass of your button cool against your joined hands. “So please, Kyoujurou.”

You can feel it, the deep breath he takes before he descends, mouth kissing along the bare skin of your neck while his hand deftly undoes the buttons of your uniform. Before you have time to be nervous, Kyoujurou’s lips are already on the slope of your collarbones, nipping and sucking lightly as you gasp. “Beautiful,” he whispers against your skin, and you have to fight back your blush.

As your top slips off your shoulders, leaving you exposed to his gaze, you shiver slightly as the cold of the night air leaves goosebumps on your skin. Kyoujurou, ever attentive, notices right away. “Don’t worry,” his fingers trail down your side, before they’re replaced by his lips, hot against your bare skin. The sensation is foreign, a little ticklish even, but strangely welcome, and you have to try not to squirm. “I’ll warm you up in a moment.”

His hands tug at the buckle of your belt even as he continues to map out your body with his mouth, leaving little bruises and marks on you. They sting pleasantly, and with each new one Kyoujurou adds to your skin, you fight back a little moan at the feeling, pressing your legs together to alleviate the strange ache there. Although the night is cool, you feel hot, burning up together with Kyoujurou as he makes good on his promise to warm you up. Perhaps the demon’s blood art is contagious? You wouldn’t mind...

There’s a metallic clink, and the belt around your waist loosens before it slides off you, falling to the ground with a soft thump. Your uniform pants follow soon after, slipped down your legs together with your undergarments, and it’s then you feel cool air brushing against you right there.

Suddenly shy, you press your thighs together, unable to bear the way Kyoujurou’s eyes rake over your body almost hungrily. Still, for all his desire, he remains patient with you, coaxing your legs open carefully with a gentle touch that you can’t help but obey. Fingers skimming up your legs, first from your ankles up to the crook of your knee and finally to the sensitive skin of your inner thighs, you bite back a whimper the closer his touch comes to where you need it most.

Slowly, almost carefully, Kyoujurou runs the tip of his fingers along your damp folds and you shudder, the seemingly light touch intensifying ten fold and sending little shockwaves of pleasure down your body. It feels strange, but your body chases it of its own accord, pressing against his hand in a silent plea for more.

“Does it feel good?” Kyoujurou whispers, and you nod urgently. Anything to get rid of that aching, sudden emptiness in you.

“Please,” your voice comes out as a whine, and if you weren’t so aroused you would be mortified by how needy you sound. Isn’t it supposed to be Kyoujurou who is affected by the demon’s spell? “Touch me, Kyoujurou.”

“Mmm, don’t be impatient,” his thumb rubs circles over you, its glide made effortless by the slick now coating his fingers. The pressure relieves you for a second before an even more intense need crashes hot on its heels, unrelenting. When you whine again, all composure now thrown to the wind, Kyoujurou bites his lip and probes, his finger parting your folds to sink into you slowly. Your gasp catches in your throat, and all you can do is let your head fall back as your walls tighten around him, as if trying to keep him inside you.

“More,” you plead, nearly begging him now. One finger isn’t nearly enough, and Kyoujurou proceeds to press another into you even as you squirm on his fingers. A short, bitten off moan escapes you when he starts to move his fingers at a leisurely pace, pumping them in and out of you with an obscene squelching sound. “Kyoujurou, don’t tease.”

“I need to make sure I don’t hurt you,” you tremble under him when he begins to scissor you carefully, making sure to stretch you out so that you’ll be able to take him more easily later. Eager for more but unable to complain, you move your hips towards his hands so that his fingers can press deeper into you, shuddering when his fingers crook against a certain spot. Reaching up, you curl your hands at the nape of his neck and tugging him down towards you so that you can kiss him.

His tongue licks into your mouth, hot and wet, as his fingers still continue to move in you. Arching your back in an attempt to draw closer to him, you suck on his tongue lightly and Kyoujurou lets out a groan, a rumble from deep within his chest.

“Ready, ready,” you break the kiss to tell him, helplessly fucking yourself on his fingers. Pleasure sets every nerve ending alight, from the tips of your fingers to your toes. “Please, Kyoujurou.”

Kyoujurou’s eyes gleam, but you too, can see how badly he needs it. He’s trembling, almost feverishly now, but still he manages a smile as he looks down at you. “Always so impatient with me,” he dips down to plunder your mouth once more, rough and forceful this time, curling his fingers in you and causing you to pant into his mouth. This draws a slight laugh out of him. His fingers slip out of you, and you let out a long, keening whine in complaint.

“Don’t worry,” he squeezes your thigh and you shiver at the look in his eyes. “I promise I won’t leave you wanting.”

Even through the feeling of Kyoujurou’s body on yours and his lips of your skin, you faintly hear the clink of a belt being undone. A moan of anticipation leaves you, and you can’t help but part your legs in response. You need more, more to alleviate the burning ache in you that just doesn’t seem to abate.

Something presses against your entrance, hard and heavy, and your hips press against it involuntarily, demanding more. To your confusion, Kyoujurou doesn’t enter you immediately, instead taking a moment to run his length up and down your folds, and you let out a pathetic little moan when he denies you. Kyoujurou laughs, but it’s rougher, lower this time.

“Impatient,” he repeats, leaning over you. You look up at him pleadingly, sure that tears are gathering in the corner of your eyes from how badly you need it, but Kyoujurou leans down to press a soft kiss to your lips. “Tell me you want it.”

You gape at him, words leaving you for a second at his sudden demand. “Wha-”

“I need to know that you want this as much as I do.” Kyoujurou’s hands trace the spot over your heart, littered with bruises that will probably turn into dark red blooms tomorrow morning. “Tell me with your own words and your mouth that you want this.”

“I-” You flush, biting your bottom lip in embarrassment. The words feel almost shameful on your tongue, but you remind yourself that this is Kyoujurou. “I…” Your voice comes out hushed, barely above a whisper. “I want you, Kyoujurou. I really do.”

Kyoujurou smiles in response, kissing you gently. His hands slide down to your knees, parting your legs and coaxing them to wrap around his waist, which you obey immediately. That’s when you feel him begin to press into you, parting your folds and slowly sinking into you. At first, the stretch is still bearable, but the further he slides into you, you can’t help but let out a little cry as you stretch more to accommodate his length.

“Too much?” Kyoujurou presses kisses to your hair, the crown of your head. You shake your head determinedly, tightening the hold your legs have around his waist.

“N-no, keep going,” you say, clinging to his form. Kyoujurou looks over you with concern in his eyes, before he nips comfortingly on your lower lip.

“You can bite down on me if you want,” he whispers, kissing the side of your neck. “I’ll try to be gentle.”

With those words, he begins moving again, and you fight back another sob as he stretches you open further. Unable to stand the pain, you bury your face in the crook of his neck, teeth latching onto his shoulder. True to his word, Kyoujurou doesn’t even flinch when your teeth break his skin. Instead, he only rubs soothing circles into the bare skin of your thigh in a silent bid to comfort.

You’re no stranger to pain, and you’ve trained in many ways to dull it in your years as a demon slayer. Taking a deep breath, you focus your mind and instruct your body to relax, allowing Kyoujurou to slip deeper into you. After a few moments, the pain begins to abate, and you carefully regulate your breathing before you grip his hand tight.

He glances down at you and you nod wordlessly. With a gentle squeeze of your hip, Kyoujurou begins to move once more, and although the ache still lingers, it has already started to dull, replaced by that feeling of fullness that you had experienced earlier with Kyoujurou’s fingers in you, only this time magnified a hundredfold.

When he finally sinks in you all the way to the hilt, you pause for a moment to adjust to the near overwhelming feeling of being filled so completely, busying yourself with sucking marks into Kyoujurou’s neck like he’d done for you earlier. Kyoujurou groans lowly in his throat, murmuring words of encouragement with each mark you leave on his skin - he seems pleased about it. When your teeth latch on to the lobe of his ear, Kyoujurou begins pulling out of you, much to your despair, but before you can whine about it once more, Kyoujurou slams back into you with a smooth, forceful thrust, and your words turn into nothing more than a choked gasp trapped in your throat.

After that, he doesn’t give you a second to breathe, hips pistoning in you with fervour, and all you can do is lie back and take it, eyes rolling to the back of your head as Kyoujurou runs his mouth over your shoulder, your forehead, your collarbone. Faintly, you feel Kyoujurou’s hand work its way between your bodies, coming to a stop at where your bodies are joined. Before you can ask what he’s doing, his fingers slip down to worry your clit roughly and you let out a cry, nails digging into the skin at his back and arms as you cling to him. Kyoujurou hums, a pleased, satisfied sound and only redoubles his efforts, causing your body to tremble with sensation.

The pleasure builds up in you, almost overwhelming, a wave of pleasure surging straight for you. Before you can warn Kyoujurou, it crashes over you and a high pitched sob works its way out of your throat, your body trying to curl up on itself as if that will alleviate the intensity that’s overtaking your body. Above you, you distantly register Kyoujurou’s low groan as his thrusts lose their rhythm before he pulls out of you completely, something warm splattering on your thigh.

Too tired to form words, you simply hold out your arms and Kyoujurou instantly moves into them, tugging you into his hold so that you can rest your head on his shoulder. Already, you can feel the beginnings of an ache in your legs and arms, and from what the older demon slayers have told you before, your… abdomen would probably feel the same way as well tomorrow. Still, you think, looking up at Kyoujurou’s flushed but content face, you think that this was completely worth it.

A gentle kiss to your temple pulls you out of your thoughts, and you look up to see Kyoujurou with a slight smile on his face as he gazes down at you. “Are you feeling alright? I might have been a bit too rough there.” His fingertips trace your bare shoulders, the love bites at your neck, and finally your lips. You shake your head, content to go limp against him as he cradles you carefully.

“No, I’m fine.” Glancing up at him, you wonder if the flush on his cheeks is from the earlier exertion or if he’s still affected by the demon’s spell. You try to raise a hand, but overestimate your strength - your hand falls back to your lap before it can even reach halfway to his forehead. Still, Kyoujurou only picks up your own hand with his and presses it to his forehead for you, and you’re relieved to find out that although his body temperature is running warm, it’s nothing like the unnatural heat that had been burning him up from before. “It’s good that you’re alright now.”

“[name]...” The solemnity of Kyoujurou’s voice takes you by surprise. When you glance at him, you see him looking at you with a slightly furrowed brow, hesitation flickering in his golden eyes. “The words you spoke earlier, about the person that you had feelings for being me… was that the truth?”

You blink at him, slightly confused. Had you not been genuine enough with your feelings earlier? Determined to put this doubt to rest, you grab him by the cheeks with a strength that you certainly didn’t have earlier, pulling him close so that your foreheads are pressed against each other’s and you can feel his breath dancing over your skin.

“You, yes you.” You repeat, punctuating each word with a kiss to his lips, which helplessly turn up in a smile under your affections. You can’t help the smile on your face that mirrors his own, his happiness palpable and all too contagious. “I can’t believe that it took a situation like this for me to confess. You better make it up to me, you hear me?”

Kyoujurou laughs, nuzzling your neck. “Okay, okay. The sequence is out of order now but,” he smiles at you, “how about I bring you out to dinner? My treat, of course.”

You have to press your face against his shoulder to hide your smile.

“That sounds lovely.”

[justallofmyfandoms]

Revenge is best served Small

Reader x Fred Weasley

Reader x George Weasley

NO TWINCEST!!

SMUT! SMUT! SMUT!

(Just to make this less awkward on all of us, yes I am clearly going through some stuff, and yes everyone enjoys what happens to them in this, even if it's reluctantly. Nothing unconsensual. 6,486 words)

[There’s a comment on this post that perfectly summarises it: “i have no idea what just happened to me all i know is that i will never be the same after reading this” so... read at your own risk my dudes, I am so sorry]

You slam a fist into the common room desk, glaring down at your potions homework with enough anger to perform the killing curse on it. Or maybe crucio would be better, just so the homework can suffer all the same pains it's inflicting on you.

A chair at the table scraps against the floor with someone plonking themselves on it. You look up to see Fred Weasley, leaning over the desk to stare down at your paper, "Having trouble with your potions essay?" He asks, evidently just to piss you off because it's pretty obvious you were.

"Bugger off, Weasley. We can't all pay zero attention during class and still get perfect grades" you focus back on your work, but not fast enough to miss Fred's shit eating grin.

"Still mad I got a better grade on our end of semester test?"

"No!" You snap back, perhaps a little too quickly. It made the ginger chuckle. You and the twins had been good friends since first year, but it infuriated you to no end every time they got a good grade, because you just knew it was all talent and no effort.

The twin crossed his arms and leant them on the table, scooting closer to you, "Not that I don't love the look of anger on your face, but why does it annoy you so much? You've been going on about this for six years"

"It doesn't matter, I just wanna get this stupid essay over with!" you complain, throwing your quill on the desk, "Where's your brother, anyway? He said he would help me."

Fred pats your head and sighs, "Ditched by your own boyfriend? There's tragic..." You knew he was just being a prick, Fred always did enjoyed teasing you, but you hadn't seen George all day. It was beginning to worry you. Besides, you two had made it a tradition to do your potions homework together ever since third year.

"He actually sent me here to apologise. He's at tonight's party up in Ravenclaw tower. The ol' sod's drunk a bit too much to help out I'm afraid"

You sit up and frown, the anger being pushed to the back of your mind out of newfound sadness, "Oh... he could have at least told me he was going to the party..."

Fred nods sympathetically, but eventually grins and scoots closer, "In the meantime, how about a deal?" You'll be getting whiplash from all these emotions. First anger, then hurt, and now Fred was making you highly suspicious. He has that expression he gets when dreaming up a crazy plan.

"If you help me with a little scheme I've concocted, I'll help you finish your essay" he continues since the only reaction you initially gave was a squint.

"What kind of scheme?"

He drums the table, bitting back a smile that might warn you off, "I've come up with a new product idea, but in order to make it, I need a very rare ingredient that can only be found in one place"

You sigh, resting your cheek against your raised fist, "Snape's supply closet..."

He points at you like in charades, "Exactly!"

"How do I know you'll actually help me? Making a deal with you is a bit like making a deal with the devil"

"We'll get the essay done tonight!" He declares, spinning the paper to face him, and picking up a nearby quill, "Then tomorrow, you'll help me get the potion"

After a fair amount of consideration, you nod, "Alright, deal!"

"Remind me again what the plan is?" You and Fred were stood in the women's bathroom on the first floor, a bathroom you generally tried to avoid as it was occupied by a particularly annoying ghost called Moaning Myrtle. She didn't seem to be revealing herself though, which you assumed had something to do with Fred teasing her about her nickname and the... other connotations "moaning" has.

Fred took a small vial from his trouser pocket. The contents were green and bubbling, "First, I'll drink this shrinking potion, then you'll take me in your robe pocket all the way to Snape's classroom and put me on the third shelf up next to his supply closet. I'll sneak in through the hole my brother and I drilled there years ago, grab the bottle and get out!"

"You mean you and George have done this before?" you asked, watching as he set the bottle down on the edge of the sink, taking off his robe to hang it over the cubicle wall

He turned back to watch him roll the sleeves of his shirt up to his elbows, "Yeah, every now and then if we need tough to find ingredients"

"And what exactly do I do?"

"Well, while I'm getting the bottle, you keep an ear out for Snape, then when I get out, you grab me and the bottle, put me in your robes and bring us back here so I can have my regrowth potion" he pulls another vial out of his pocket which is red and shiny.

"Sound good" you say, while he plonks the potion back into his pocket, and pops off the cork on the shrinking one.

"Bottoms up" he says, and downs the contents. The second he does, Fred begins to shrink! His clothes, thankfully, shrink down in size with him, until finally, he was no bigger than your pinky.

"Wow!" You exclaim, squatting down, "This is super dangerous. I could step on you."

"Please don't..." Fred mutters, his pitch the exact same despite his small size, just a bit quieter due to the distance and size of his mouth and all that. Damn, TV and movies have lied to you. A look of mild horror suddenly adorns Fred's face as he pulls something out from his trouser pocket. It's so small, you had trouble realising it was his regrowth potion, "Oh bugger! I forgot about that..."

You were tempted to lie down on your stomach and be as close as you could to eye level, but you doubted that would be very sanitary on the bathroom floor, "What's wrong?"

"I just realised I let the potion shrink with me! Now it won't work! It'll only grow me back to the size of a foot, if we're lucky"

"Speaking from experience?"

"Unfortunately." he shivers, "But it's okay, we'll just have to stop off at my room afterwards to get some more. I always make extra if I can afford to"

"Well that's good. Ready to go?"

"Absolutely" he held up his arms and you scooped him up like you would a wand. You got to your feet and were about to place him in your pocket when you noticed you still had your potions essay folded up inside. Fred had helped you finish it last night, the legend. Took you until 4 am to finish writing it.

You put him in your breast pocket instead, for fear that your robes might fly around too much and he might fall out, or that someone might bump into you and squash him. The breast pocket was at least hidden and safe. Besides, there were still two layers separating him from your actual boobs.

You opened the door and peaked your head through, checking to see if anybody was there. Nobody. Brilliant. Hurrying down the cobbled hallway, you B lined to the stairs leading down to the dungeons, and hurried to the classroom door. You and Fred had a free period right now, so that would explain why it seemed you and he were the only ones not in class. Despite how thankful you were for Fred's help, you wouldn't have skipped lessons to do this, it's risky enough as it is. Fast walking now, you peeped your head into Snape's office, where beyond it lay the door to his private stash.

"He better not come, Fred, or I'll squash you"

"Don't worry, he's in his lesson! Only got one potions teacher"

You thought this over and realised that yeah, there is only one... why the fuck do they only have one teacher for each subject? Do they get breaks? That's unlikely seeing as they have to teach all four houses in all seven years over the span of only five days a week. That's mental that is. Regardless, you would have the time to ponder this later, for now you had a potion to steal. You crept into Snape's office and shut the door, pulling out your wand and enchanting "Colloportus" to lock it behind you.

Fred really knew what he was talking about, because there were indeed shelves next to the closet door. The third one up was even covered with books, and when you grabbed Fred out from your pocket and plonked him on the shelf, he pointed to the dusty copy of 'The Moral Implications of Love Potions' and you took it out to reveal a hole behind it big enough for tiny Fred, “This looks like an interesting read..." you mutter, flipping over to read the blurb. There was a mini scoff, and by mini you mean it was produced by a mini person.

"Right, well, you have fun reading that, I'll search for the potion. Be back in a second" and he was off, disappearing through the hole. You sigh, fidgeting with anxiety at possibly getting caught. Doesn't make sense though, Snape is in class, he has no reason to come in here. When do lessons end anyway? You glance around for a clock but don't find any. Serves you right for not wearing a watch... would a watch even work at Hogwarts?

You flipped open the book and began reading a random page: Dr Eglantine proposed the following moral dilemma: if two people love each other but are too afraid to admit to one another, is it wrong for one of them to drug the other with love potion? Wizarding philosophers are torn on this issue, and when intercourse is involved, the grey area becomes even larger—

There was a loud bang from outside, which made your heart drop. You scurry over to the door, pressing your ear against the cool wood, holding your breathe in hopes of hearing better. The sound of students filled your ears, but not just a few students having a free period, but a whole herd of them. That could only mean one thing: class had ended... Oh fuck!

"Fred!" you cry out in the quietest panic you can muster, scurrying over to the hole, "Snape is coming."

"Almost... there!" Fred called between grunts, emerging with the bottle. You snatched it up, preparing to despose of it into your pocket when Fred raised a valid argument, "Don't put it in there! Snape will check your pockets when he finds you here!" He began downing his second potion, growing only to the size of a regular sized hand, "Damn"

"Oh, right" you scan your body for another hiding place, then the thought came to you. You shove the vial up your shirt and into your bra.

"Great, now me!" Fred exclaims, raising his arms up.

"I can't put you in my bra! You're too big, he'll see you!" You scoop him, holding his torso like a toothbrush.

He stares up at you in stunned confusion, "Really? That was what was wrong with that plan?"

You realised you ought to have said 'no you pervert I'm not letting you touch my boobs' but now wasn't the time to curse yourself for it. Your heart was hammering with fear, inspecting your body for somewhere to stash him. The doorknob rattled, and the sickeningly familiar tone of Snape's voice cursed that it was locked. Your time was up, there was only one thing for it! You pulled away the elastic of your skirt and stuck him down there,

“WOAH—!" He yelped, hair practically standing on end.

"Just hold onto the elastic along the outside and we should be fine!" You put him onto your outer right thigh, knowing full well that a pair of shorts and a pair of underwear and a whole thigh were separate him from... that.

"Alohamora!" the door swung open just as you were putting the book back, and there stood Snape, in all his emo glory. He froze, clearly having not expected to find anyone inside. Once the shock had left his system, he straightened up and glared at you, “What exactly do you think you are doing?" his nasally voice grilled, doing nothing good for your nerves, which were in absolute tatters at the moment.

"I was looking for you, w-when someone locked me in the class" you scramble, the lie just about the worst you could come up with. You had to remind yourself that Fred was on the outside of your thigh. Considering he was in your skirts at all, that was the most innocent position he could be in. All he had to do was hold on to the elastic of your shorts and you should be fine!

"Why?" he trudged further into the classroom.

"Why was I looking for you or why did someone lock me in the class—?"

"Why were you looking for me?" His booming voice told you that you were on thin ice.

"Ah yes, well, I... I was having trouble with the essay assigned for tomorrow, and thought maybe you could help me"

Snape closed the door and came to lean on his large desk, "Do you really expect me to believe that one of my students, who has never once asked a question in six years, is now asking a question?"

You frown, so suddenly insulted that you almost forgot about Fred on your leg, "Professor Snape, I ask questions all the time"

"Oh, how unmemorable you are then" he sneers, making you fume, "Regardless, I'm going to need to search your pockets"

You sighed, "Yes, sir"

He stalked over to you, holding out a hand for your robes. You pushed the sleeves off each shoulder, removing it, and dumped it into his palm. As he began to examine it, you felt Fred's shoes scrapping against your skin. It's as though he's trying desperately to find a foothold, no doubt still exhausted from having to push the bottle. If he falls, not only will you be caught, but Fred could get seriously injured!

Again, you knew what you had to do but hesitated to do it. As subtly as you could, you extended the elastic of your skirt, took Fred out, then plonked him into your shorts. His entire body went flush against yours, no doubt the skin tight shorts were crushing him. As long as there was no more risk of him falling... Hopefully it wasn't suffocating him though.

"If it's too tight, move" you hissed, keeping your eyes trained on Snape, who unfortunately heard you.

"What did you say?"

"I said—" you took a sharp breath, feeling Fred's back sink further into the fat of your thigh as he pushed away the area of fabric suffocating him, "If it's too tight, move" you repeated loudly for the two men in the room. "The pockets get a bit stuck sometimes so you have to jostle it around a bit" you added to give fake context to an instruction that wasn't even meant for Snape.

The shadowy teacher was evidently confused, but decided to ignore your outburst. Meanwhile, you could feel Fred inching along the front of your thighs, moving closer to your core. This was fine, as you didn't exactly want him to asphyxiate in your shorts, that would be a tragic way to go. You did hope, however, that he wouldn't overshoot his target, and fall into the abyss between the crotch and pant leg. Just as you had thought it, you felt the man slip. You gasped, pressing your legs a little closer together, enough for him to reach out and grab the first piece of fabric he could get his hands on. Unfortunately for the both of you, that piece of fabric were your panties. You wondered whether he knew what he was doing, when he began to scramble onto it, lying down flat onto the crotch like a hammock. Your question was quickly answered by the sensation of his arms sticking into your folds, and the subsequent wriggling of regret.

Sucking in a deep breath, you had to grip the nearby desk with all your might to stop a loud moan escaping your lips. Regardless of how bizarre and awful this situation was, having anything rub against your clit was an arousal waiting to happen. Poor guy must have though those were your shorts he grabbed before... You were just about to dig in and help, when Snape extended your robes back to you. You'd have to walk, with mini Fred mushed into you vagina, all the way to grab it. Praying he might forgive you one day, you stepped forward, effectively compromising Fred's escape, trapping him between your knickers and crack. Talk about getting stuck between a rock and a hard place.

"Very well, I will take a look at your homework" and he rounded the desk, unfurling the essay he had taken from your pocket and sitting down in preparation to help. You swallow, approaching the table as he skimmed through it. He paused for a moment to look up, "Well, sit down" he ordered.

Staring down at the chair, you gulped. Every time you sit down during class, the skin tight shorts you wear, under your Hogwarts skirt, ride up into your ass. Having that happen right now is about as undesirable as they come, "Um, I'd rather not, if that's alright with you"

He blinked and looked back down at your work, "Well anyway, the beginning of your essay seems promising." You smiled, that was the part you wrote by yourself. Just wait until he gets to the part Fred helped you with. There were things he told you on the topic that you swore you had never heard before, you'll look like such an expert! Speaking of, the unfortunate blighter had given up on his attempts to leave, probably worried that his efforts might be thwarted again by your moving thighs. He was now using his hands and knees to keep himself pushed away from you. If you thought about it hard enough, you could convince yourself Fred was just a bumpy pad with a tuft of hair on the end... that moved.

Alright now body, I know you're an animal that listens to its instincts more than its brain, but please don't respond the same way you usually do when something— anything is pressing against you. You thought to yourself. We are not creating any new weird kinks today, thank you very much. Besides, the poor guy is going through enough as it is.

"You think Felix Felicis was created by Felix Williams... and that it contains balm, angel's trumpet, bitter root, and a single strawberry cooked under a full moon" he looked up from your work, pinning you with an expression of cold unamusement.

He must be testing you. Fred's a prankster but he isn't a dick... most of the time. He wouldn't. He couldn't! "Yes...?"

"Your Wolfsbane... does it contain any other nonsense ingredients I should know about?"

You froze, as did the guy in your pants. He must have heard, and Merlin have mercy he was going to pay for what he'd done!

This was just like that incident in fourth year all over again! You were in the showers after a quidditch match and Fred snuck in and stole your clothes and towel. When you realised you would had to run butt fucking naked all the way to your room, you were absolutely furious. Fred was lounging in the common room, along with twenty or so other people, and they all watched as you went gunning for the stairs. George felt awful, having not known his brothers prank, and offered to obliviate anyone who talked about it. It was then you realised Fred could be kind of a dick, and George was the man for you.

Fascinated by just how much Fredrick Weasley had fucked you over yet again, you decided to plop down on the chair opposite Snape. The moment you did, the skin tight shorts became skin tight. Fred's entire body went flush against yours, sending a delicious zap up your spine that attempted to summon a moan you coughed back, “Sorry, I wasn't trying to insult you with my work... I got a friend to help and it seems he was just taking the piss" Fred was moving, his chest bumping and smoothing over your clit. You had to actively try not to squeeze your thighs around him to increase the pressure.

George had bought you a dildo once as a "joke" (he just wanted to watch you wank yourself off, the kinky bugger) and you had run it between your folds, but that pailed in comparison to this. This was far better. Fred is made up of so many intricate parts, each of them squirming against you. His legs, for example, were kneading the source of your arousal. His shoes were in there now, using it as a foothold to try and push his way out. It was heavenly.

"Now I might remember you, as the girl with a poor judge of character" Snape interjected, pulling you out of your sexual haze. If the context were different, you might have gotten mad, but you couldn't bring yourself to at the moment. Not while you were getting oh so sweet revenge on a certain someone, "Well, for starters, dragon bone isn't an ingredient in any of these, so we might as well cross that off the list—" he took his red ink and began marking your paper. His voice became a distant drone in the background as you disassociated once against, focusing on how Fred had began shimmying his way to freedom. If only you could quicken his pace. If only you could rock your hips and fuck yourself against him. You weren't available to move, but he certainly was.

Leaving the one hand there on the desk, to rest your chin against, the other snuck under the table and under the hem of your skirt and shorts. Your fingers hovered above him, a little unsure what to do, until the index finger took initiative and pressed down onto his back through the pants. If he wasn't mushed against you before, he sure as hell was now. His hands slap your folds, but you could feel his head angled up for air. He should be fine.

You experiment by pushing him up. There his chin is triggering the most sensitive nerves of your clit! You roll your hips to savour it, using your thumb to squash his head down and create a more prominent friction. The round nature of his face and bumps making up his features created the most delicious rub. You had to loop your feet behind the desk's legs in order to stop your thighs from crushing him. When he slaps you for air, you reluctantly moved your thumb and pushed his body down. Now his feet were teasing your entrance with the sensation of being filled. You sat down more firmly onto your chair to shove him deeper inside of you. You pushed him up again, then down, up, down, repeating the gesture while his limbs squirmed, awakening new flesh with every swipe. Your middle finger joined the index's perch on his back to pick up the pace. You bit your lip and sucked a deep breath through your nose to push down all the noises that were bubbling to the surface. The only thing that could have moulded you any better than Fred would have been a literal mould. Even then, it wouldn't have been nearly so fun to hump.

You were now rolling him against you in deep tight circles. Your hips were swaying in time, and as much as you wanted to use your whole hand to rub him madly against you, you thought Snape might notice your entire arm thrusting under the table. Unconsciously, your thighs tighten around him, sucking him almost up into you. You lull your head back and arch into him, sighing in bliss. When Snape looked up, you snapped your head back down and froze, biting your fist in order to stop yourself whining in disapproval.

"Does that make sense?"

"Yes sir" what on earth were you agreeing to? You hadn't the foggiest.

"Then don't waste my time with useless garbage like this again. If you haven't produced a coherent, serious essay by tomorrow, I'll be deducting twenty points from your house. Now go!" He pointed to the door.

You had half a mind to snap back, but thought: to hell with him! You had things that needed your immediate attention, and no hooked nose, greasy hair, middle aged virgin was going to ruin that for you! “Very well, thank you sir" you stood up, and to your eternal disappointment, it loosened the strain of your clothes to unstick Fred from your cunt.

Exiting the class, you were devastated to find the hallway packed with students ready for their next potions lesson. The women's bathroom was just around the corner and up the stairs. All you had to do was get to it. You sped walked around the students, opting to push some aside rather than do any fancy footwork and likely squash the man inside of you. From the lack of movement, you guessed he had probably made peace with the situation. Luckily for you though, the movement of your walking kept banging him against you, and you had to stop yourself from dropping to the floor right then and there to grind him furiously against you.

When finally you had made it to the bathroom, casting "Colloportus" on the door for some privacy, you froze at the sight of someone stood inside with their back to you. You recognised those ginger locks straight away.

"George?" you called. He let go of the robe he was examining over the cubicle door and beamed, bounding up to you with all the excitement of a puppy.

"Darling! I've been looking for you everywhere, where have you been?"

What to say, what to say. You doubted rubbing your shrunk brother against my vagina in revenge would be largely acceptable, so you opted to white lie, "Oh, I needed Snape to help me with my potions essay"

George frowned, "Why'd you do that? I could have helped you. Can't imagine ol' hook nose was as fun as me"

"Well maybe if you weren't at that party last night—"

"What party?"

Judging by Fred's immediate scramble to break free, you imagined George was about to tell you something that would spell out very bad news for his twin. To stop his escape, you move a hand behind your back to fist your underwear and hoist it up, making it impossible to give way, "Fred told me you were at the Ravenclaw party last night..."

George's chocolate brown eyes widen in horror, immediately replaced by a scowl as he looked up to curse the air. Little did he know he actually should have been glancing down if he wanted to curse his brother. His squirming against you was making this entire thing leagues better, "What? Oh that prick! I was sick last night with a cold and sent him to apologise to you because I didn't want you catching it while Madam Pomfrey's sweets took effect"

Your cunt was fluttering in anticipation for what long and hard revenge you were about to take. Fred was scrambling so wildly, you couldn't wait to get down to business, "That asshat. He said you were drunk and convinced me to steal some stupid potion with him"

George's anger multiplied, "Bloody hell! I told him not to do that"

"What do you mean?" You were genuinely curious, but your body had literally no care in the world. It was hoisting your pants even higher to keep Fred glued there, wriggling your hips as your breathing became laboured.

George didn't seem to notice, "He was planning on making a thing of love potion with it. Told him it was a stupid idea and he was perfectly popular enough to get anyone he wanted without it. He's got hundreds of girls and guys in the past, I can't think of who he thought he needed to trick..." you consider it for a moment. That was a very good question, it's strange for Fred to care so much about someone... but this could be left for another time.

You hook your foot behind George's leg and brought it forward to wedge it in between yours. Without warning you hopped up and felt Fred immediately sink into your flesh. You doubled over, gripping George's shoulders, and moaning to savour the feel of being entirely and completely touched. George had to brace his hands against the door either side of your head to stop himself from falling over. In surprise rapture, he watched as you were already so unravelled. Finally, the surface you needed. Twins were supposedly two halfs of a whole, and never before had that sentiment rung so true. His leg was the missing component that pushed Fred so absolutely into you, no margin of error. All of him was rubbing against you now as you began humping without mercy.

You thrust yourself forwards and backwards, side to side, around in broad circles. Your folds accommodated him so well, stretching to make sure he always stayed between them. At times you were almost sure you could feel them curling around him, to keep him there as a permanent feature. Tempting indeed, he certainly made walking more fun, and imagine the possibilities in History of Magic. He could get you off under the table without anyone having a clue!

Fred was becoming slick with your arousal, lubricating him into slipping and sliding into usually unattainable flesh you never knew yearned for touch. And because of George's pressure under him, his hold on those neglected areas of your cunt was positively sinful. You throw your head back, your hands on George's shoulders, tugging up and down to massage yourself against Fred.

"What is that bump in your pants?" he finally questioned, having snapped out of his shock.

"Just a sex toy" you reply earnestly, making no alterations to your position.

There was a sudden sting on your clit that made you yelp and stop for a moment. Fred must have bit you... and it was incredible. You wondered whether you could get him to do it again, "It's loves being in there while I fuck myself with it. A tool for my pleasure" You were bouncing up and down like a rubber ball, poking him to react. He still wasn't doing anything to participate, but it was fine. You were doing more than enough for the both of you. All he needed to do was be there as you pounded yourself onto him. Then, your continuous lifting and applying onto him made his shoulder lodge so deep inside of you, you let out a howling moan, crushing George's lips to yours in order to muffle the sheer volume of the scream. He pulls your bottom lip into his mouth, urgently swiping his tongue against yours. You moan and put everything you have into the kiss, allowing him to dive in and taste you. George's lips began to wander, bitting, nibbling and sucking his way to your pulse. His hands came up to hastily undo your tie and shirt, pushing them aside to reveal your bare stomach. As he works your skin into his mouth, creating a glorious love bite on the swell of your neck, his palms fan out across your stomach. You take a sharp breath, as he caressed towards your bra, grinning against you when he notices it's the one he got you for Valentine's Day that unhooks at the front. Lucky coincidence, all your other ones were just dirty.

"I leave you for one night and you become a horny mess" George teases, his hands gliding down your sides to grip your hips. He nudged your legs apart, spreading you wider over your toy. Although he didn't take over the pace, he certainly sped you up. God you could have kissed him for knowing exactly how to whind up your pleasure. A shame then that his mouth was currently occupied with other things. You tangle your hands into his hair as he strokes your nipple with his tongue, pulling it into his mouth and hollowing his cheeks to suck it hard. Your head lulled back to angle yourself further into him, whimpering at how close your climax was.

Seemed Fred was just as desperate to get it over with as you were. He was now doing everything in his power to jack you off. He had somehow managed to grasp your clit between his hands, and paired with your thrusting it created a borderline unnatural amount of pleasure. You were screaming with moans. But somehow more importantly than all that, he had his leg plunged inside of you.

That was it. The idea had been toying in your mind this whole time, but now you knew you needed him inside if you. "Wait a second George" you breathed, perching yourself a little higher in order to stick a hand down your panties, pinching Fred so his arms were trapped by his sides, and sliding him, feet first, through your entrance, until nothing showed of him but his head.

Head back, mouth open in an overjoyed groan, something in you snapped. You didn't even have to thrust him in and out. He was twisting, his arms and legs were flailing in the little space available to them. The walls were hugging his every curve, likely trying to suction him to the back. It was the combination of George flicking your nipple with his tongue and Fred massaging your insides that had you finally unravelling. Hot, slick, arousal came dribbling past what little gaps Fred’s body provided, and you went limp in his brother’s arms with one final howl.

George straightened up to hold you close, stroking your hair until you were ready to stand on your own again, “Nifty toy you got there. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you quite so animalistic” he chuckled.

Wiping the sweat of your brow off on your robes, you tried to make yourself look presentable again, smirking up at your boyfriend as you redid the buttons of your shirt, “Yes, well, nothing beats actual sex with you. Wanna go for a round two in your room?”

He beams, “Course! Want me to wait?”

“Nah, I’ll meet you up there” you gesture him away. Normally you would ask him to stay, but you had something to deal with first.

“Alright, see you in five” all excited, he ran for the door, then turned back just as he had performed the unlocking spell to give you a quick peak on the lips, then off he went.

Rummaging around in your shorts, you sigh as you unclog your hole, the contents stringing against Fred as you lift him to eye level. Merlin he looked awful. His fiery hair was stood on end, gelled up with your cum. His white shirt was practically transparent and clung to his abs as though it have been soaked in water. His eyes were a little bloodshot probably from liquid splashing into them, and his lips were rather swollen, like they would be after making out with someone for too long or too roughly. Just generally, your essence was rolling off of him in big globs. You placed your other hand to your mouth and giggled at his appearance, but he seemed the furthest thing from amused. His arms were crossed over his chest, a highly displeased scowl etched across his face.

“Oh don’t look at me like that!” you say, “If you hadn’t planned the robbery so terribly, or lied to me on twooccasions in the 8 hours proceeding it, getting me to write a whole 4 thousand word essay on things that were complete horseshit, humiliating me on front of Snape and—“

“Alright alright—!” He had softened up a little, averting eye contact, but you didn’t care.

“No! I’m not done!” That got his attention again, “Fred, you have been a dick to me for the past six years! Sure, you’re funny and can be sweet sometimes, but most of the time you don’t know where the line is! You prank me all the time, it’s relentless! And today you bloody pushed me over the edge. I had a perfect means of getting revenge and damn it I took it.”

He shrugs, “Whatever, I guess we’re even now”

You open your mouth to continue arguing but snap it shut when you realised what he had said. That really took much less convincing than you though, probably because you were feeling a smidge guilty for going so far in the heat of anger. It’s not like he orgasmed or anything... well if he did you wouldn’t be able to tell, his trousers were drenched, “Yeah, I guess...”

You waddled to the sink, turning both faucets on for lukewarm water, plonking him in the basin to clean off the sticky residue. You then hobbled into the closest stall to grab a wad of tissue and wipe yourself clean with it. Despite how absolutely caked in the stuff Fred was, you were still drenched. You exit the stall a couple of minutes later to find him completely washed down, "Right, let's get you back to your normal size, but let's put you in my pocket this time..."

"What a shame. I had really learned to call your vag my home" the sarcasm drooled from his lips.

You scooped him up, pinning him with a warning eye, "I'll put you back in there if you're not careful."

"Sorry sorry sorry!" he back peddled, extending his arms like a man about to be hit by an unforgivable curse. You gently lay him in your pocket, and snapped your head up to find Moaning Myrtle staring at you in disbelief.

"Umm..." the ghost muttered, for once in her life (or death) at a loss for words.

"Don't tell anyone what you saw here today, Myrtle" you warned, pointing a long threatening finger at her, "Not like they'd believe you anyway"

She nodded vigorously and dove into the nearest sink.

[hercleverboy]

the waiting room

spencer reid x fem!reader

summary ↠ the three times Y/N waited for spencer, and the one time he waited for her. (based off of this blurb)

category ↠ angst

warnings/includes ↠ mentions of death as a result of potential illness, spencer’s headaches, mri scans, swearing,  indefinite ending. 

word count ↠ 2.9k

dedicating this one to two of the literal loves of my life, @voidsfilm + @ellesgreenaway ♡

“What is stronger than the human heart, which shatters over and over and still lives.” — Rupi Kaur

Spencer had always hated hospitals.

He found it so conflicting, how a place could hold so much hope for life and promise for the future, and yet also hold so much heartbreak and despair and agony.

The strong disinfectant smell wasn’t his favourite thing, either. He hated how the bright lights always irritated his eyes, and how the hallways all just looked the same, so bleak and lifeless.

Most of all, he hated the waiting room. 

The navy-blue carpet that lined the floors, wooden chairs that were always, without fail, extremely uncomfortable to sit in. The way that nurses and doctors would walk past the room, eyes full of pity and sorrow. With his job, he’d seen more waiting rooms than he would’ve liked. He spent more time than he wanted to in hospitals, talking to victims’ families, and even sometimes having to witness them receive such heartbreaking news. On one or two occasions, he’d even had to be the bearer of bad news himself, the one who had to tell expectant family that their loved one was gone. It only added to the list of reasons why he despised hospitals.

Then there was the other side of the coin. He took frequent trips to the hospital, but unfortunately more oftenly as a patient than an FBI agent. He wouldn’t say he was reckless, but he didn’t exactly put much value on his life. Or at least, he never used to. He figured it was because he was the only one on the team without a family to come home to, without people who were dependent on him. And so, if it came down to it, he would willing take off his Kevlar vest and put down his weapon while talking down a gun-wielding unsub. Of course, he’d get the third degree from Hotch later, but he could live with that. And then he met Y/N, and he realised that now he had someone counting on him, someone waiting for him to come back home to them, he couldn’t afford to be so careless in the field.

Though sometimes, despite Spencer’s best attempts, things still went wrong. Y/N had seen the inside of the hospital waiting room more than most, often because she’d get called by one of his team mates to alert her that he’d been injured in the field. And without him ever asking, she’d drop everything to be there for him, even if it was his own stupidity that had landed him in those situations. 

The first time was after he’d been shot in the knee. Y/N had been midway through her workday when she’d received a call from JJ telling her that Spencer had been injured. She knew that it was only a leg wound, that he would be absolutely fine, but that didn’t stop her from being worried. She’d been sat in the waiting room, waiting anxiously for a nurse to come by and update her. 

As soon as she got the all clear to see him, she’d breathed out a sigh of relief and made her way to his room,  catching his attention as soon as she entered.

He gave her a tight-lipped smile, grimacing slightly at the pain shooting through his leg. “Hi.” 

She chuckled at that, moving to stand at his bedside. “Hi baby, how are you feeling?” 

“I’m ok.” He smiled, reaching up to tightly grasp one of her hands in his. “You didn’t have to come all the way down here, you know.” 

“Oh, stop.” She mumbled with a smile. “You know how much I worry about you.” 

He grinned at that, the warm feeling that he always got when he was with her spreading through him. He used the grip he had on her hand to pull her down to him, so his lips could meet hers in a sweet kiss. “Hotch has demanded I take some time off to rest, or whatever.” He murmured against her lips. “So, I’m all yours.” 

“Hmm, and what you mean by that is that you need someone to take care of you at home for a few days?” 

“Well, I did get shot in the leg, you know. Taking down the bad guy...” He gestured to his bandaged-up knee, a pout on his pretty pink lips. 

She let out a laugh at that, amused. “Alright, Superman. Let’s get you home, shall we?” 

The next time Y/N found herself in the hospital waiting room was a year later, when Spencer had been suffering from painful, unexplainable headaches. 

Initially, Spencer hadn’t wanted her to attend his MRI scan appointment, but it didn’t take much convincing for her to assure him that she wanted to be there for him. He’d held her hand in a vice-like grip on the drive to the hospital, only letting go when the nurse called his name to tell him they were ready for him. She’d kissed the back of his hand before he’d left, a whispered promise leaving her lips before he went, “I’ll be right here waiting.”

She looked around the empty waiting room, took note of its greying walls and stained carpet, and how awfully uncomfortable the chairs were. She thought of anything and everything that could distract her from the way she was feeling at that moment- knowing how scared her boyfriend was that there was something was wrong with him. 

Spencer came back to the waiting room an hour later, both relieved to see that his girl was indeed still waiting for him but frustrated with what little the doctor had told him. 

“Hey!” Y/N sat up straighter, putting on a smile for the sake of her boyfriend. “How’d it go?” 

Spencer just shook his head. “He says there’s nothing physically wrong with me. He suggested I should consider that it’s something more mental, but he’s wrong- he’s wrong, Y/N.” He sat down in the chair next to her, seeking comfort in her arms as he whimpered into the crook of her neck. “I’m not- I’m not crazy, am I?” 

And the truth was, she didn’t know. She was so afraid for him, worried that he was sick, dying, perhaps of something that the doctors hadn’t detected yet. It terrified her. Her hands ran up and down the expanse of his back, attempting to soothe his weeps the best that she could. Spencer grabbed fistfuls of the back of her shirt and breathed in the scent of her hair as deeply as he could to try and ground himself.

“I’m scared, Y/N.” 

That broke her heart to hear, but all she could do was nod in understanding, hoping her words would offer him some form of comfort. “I know, I know. We’ll figure this out, ok? Everything is going to be alright.” 

The next time Y/N inside of a waiting room was on what she could only refer to as the worst night of her life.

There were no words that could encompass the plethora of emotions she went through when she’d received a phone call from JJ, “Spencer has been shot. It’s- It’s pretty bad, Y/N. You need to come quickly.” 

When she got to the waiting room, she saw JJ and Alex sat opposite one another, a worry that made Y/N’s stomach sink on both their faces. She hurried towards them, tears blurring her vision. “Have you had any updates? Is he ok?” 

JJ looked up, shaking her head sadly. 

“What happened?” Y/N asked, her voice wavering. 

“He got shot in the neck. He pushed me out of the way.” Alex sighed, as though she was still in disbelief that he’d done that to save her. 

Y/N stared ahead in shock, dropping down into the seat beside Alex. Of course, of course, Spencer would risk his life to protect Alex. Y/N knew how fond he was of his colleague, how he idolised her, saw her as a sort of mother figure, even. 

Eventually JJ got called back to work, with Alex insisting that she’d stay with Y/N and wait for Spencer to wake. 

Y/N was so sick and fucking tired of the waiting room. Before, she hadn’t minded it, it had even bought a sense of comfort to her- because she was in a hospital, where they saved lives. But now? The familiar walls and dull navy-blue carpet made her feel nauseous. Not knowing whether her boyfriend was going to live or die was incomparable to any other time she’d found herself waiting in the same four walls. She was feeling everything and nothing all at once, she wanted to cry and scream, curse the universe for once again hurting a man that had done nothing in his life but protect others. Hell, part of her even wanted to laugh- laugh at the absurdity of the situation. If he died, - god, if he died - the world would’ve robbed him of a lifetime with her, the chance to live the life that he deserved.

She barely registered that Alex had left her side to bring her a coffee until she sat back down beside her. Y/N looked over at her, giving her a small smile as she gratefully accepted the coffee. 

Y/N brought the cup to her lips, relishing in how the hot liquid brought her a sense of warmth, and she wondered if she’d ever feel Spencer’s warmth again. She sucked in a shaky breath, speaking the first words she’d said in all the hours they’d been waiting. “You know he wants kids?” 

Alex looked over at her, sad smile tugging at her lips. “I do.” 

Y/N nodded, sniffing. “He’d be a phenomenal father.” 

“He would.” 

Y/N let out a small cry, trying desperately to hold herself together. “What if I never get the chance to give him that, Alex?” She cried, body finally giving in to the painful ache that consumed her entire being. 

Alex placed an arm around her, allowing the younger woman to lean on her shoulder for support. “You’ll get the chance. Spencer is strong, he’ll pull through.”

And sure enough, Alex had been right. When Y/N had been told he was awake, she couldn’t describe the relief that flooded her. After meeting Penelope in the hallway and being given a much-needed hug, she took a few deep breaths before walking into Spencer’s room. When her eyes landed on him, she felt the tears start to well again. She had to remind herself that despite the bandage on his neck and the numerous machines hooked up to him, he was there, and he was alive. 

She came towards him with the best smile she could muster, and he looked up at her with a drowsy smile.

“Hi.” She whispered, standing beside his bed. 

He grinned up at her, reaching out for her hand just like he always did. “Hi.” 

She squeezed his hand gently, reminding herself again that he was ok, though she couldn’t prevent the tears that began to tremble down her cheeks. 

Spencer’s heart throbbed at the sight, and he allowed himself to imagine the pain she must’ve been through, having to wait for hours to see if he was alive. He wouldn’t wish that on anyone, especially not the woman he loved more than anything else. “It’s alright, sweet girl. I’m alright.” He promised, wishing more than anything that he could pull her into his arms and soothe her, though the pain in his neck prevented him from doing so. 

“I could’ve lost you.” She whimpered, her other hand coming out to delicately trace the side of his face. 

“I’m right here.” He gave her hand three squeezes just to emphasise his point. 

She leaned forward, pressing a light kiss to his forehead. “You can’t ever scare me like that again.” 

Spencer chuckled lowly, nodding. “Yes ma’am.” 

“Promise me?” 

And though it was a promise they both knew he couldn’t keep, he granted her the reassurance that she craved. 

“I promise.” 

Y/N knew that wasn’t the last time she’d be sat in the waiting room, scared and anxious and hoping that the love of her life was ok. She knew there would always be a ‘next time’, no matter how many self-serving promises she asked Spencer to make. What she didn’t plan for, was that the next time she saw the inside of a hospital, it would be her fighting for her life. 

It had been a slow day at work for Spencer, with him managing to complete a majority of his withstanding paperwork. He sat at his desk, focused on how he twirled his pen between his fingertips, willing the clock to move faster so he could go back home when his phone rang, Y/N’s name flashing across the screen. 

He answered eagerly, though all eagerness was wiped away when it wasn’t her voice on the other end of the line. 

“Hi there, I’m looking for a Dr Spencer Reid?” 

Spencer’s mind raced, and he swallowed thickly before squeaking out an answer. “That’s me.” 

“I’m calling on behalf of Y/N Y/L/N, you’re registered as her emergency contact.” 

“Is she ok?” He croaked out, begging and pleading internally that all the worst-case scenario’s running through his head wouldn’t come to fruition. 

“She was involved in a severe road collision. You’re going to want to come down here-”

Everything past that was drowned out by the sound of Spencer’s heart beating quicker, so loudly he could hear it. He hung up, gathering his things together as quickly as he could and rushing toward the doors of the bullpen- running directly into one Derek Morgan. 

“Woah, easy there, kid. You got somewhere to be?” He joked at first, but erased all hints of a smile from his face when he saw the tears filling the younger man’s eyes. “What’s going on? Talk to me.” 

Spencer couldn’t form a sentence, only managing to splutter out a few barely strung together words. “It’s Y/N, she’s- she’s been in an a-accident and I need, I have to get to her.” 

Morgan’s eyes widened, nodding in understanding. “Alright, ok. You’re in no condition to be driving, let me take you.” 

Spencer wasn’t about to argue, already making his way toward the elevator. 

*

Spencer had always hated hospitals. 

But he’d also decided that he really fucking hated the waiting room. 

The doctors didn’t have any updates for him, no matter how many times he asked. So, he’d been forced to sit in that damned room and wait. 

He thought of how cruel the concept of the waiting room was. Waiting for either good or bad news, waiting to hear the words that would either fill him with relief or dread, signify the start of his life or the end. How cruel was it that people had to sit and wait, with the weight of the world on their shoulders and just hope their loved one was ok? 

With the first hour brought Spencer’s upset, tears trembling down rosy cheeks and whimpered words of disbelief that he could lose the woman he loved. He’d sat in the uncomfortable blue chair with his head in his hands as sobs wrecked through his body, with Morgan sat next to him, a comforting hand on his shoulder. 

The second hour brought with it a slither of hope, as a doctor came out to update them. Though it wasn’t good nor bad news, just that Y/N was still in surgery and was expected to be so for the next few hours. Spencer had again buried his head in his hands, his thoughts racing. The rest of the team arrived, joining the sombre atmosphere of the waiting room. 

The third hour saw Spencer grow agitated, angry with himself for not being with her, for not protecting her, despite how many times the team attempted to reassure him that there was nothing he could’ve done differently. They brought him cups of coffee with gentle reassurances, empty promises that Y/N would be fine, that she would pull through, but how could they possibly know that? 

In the fourth hour, Spencer sat staring blankly at the wall. He reminded himself of the future he’d dreamt of time and time again, and how he couldn’t imagine himself having that life with anyone else but her. He recalled the location of the velvet purple box he’d bought just a few months prior, hidden amongst pairs of his mismatched socks in the second drawer of his nightstand. What if he never got the chance to propose? To give her the life that he’d promised her time and time again when it was 3am and he was holding the love his life as close to his chest as he could get her. After all he’d done, the years of his life he’d given to helping to protect those who couldn’t protect themselves, this was the thanks he got? What a sick twist of fate that was. 

By the fifth hour, he was exhausted. His eyes drooped but he fought to keep them open, choosing to ignore the pitiful looks JJ shot him when she saw him fighting sleep. He would wait for her, just like all the times she had waited for him. He recognised how the way that he felt must’ve been how Y/N had felt after he’d been shot the year before, and the thought almost made him sick. He ran over all the possible outcomes in his head, allowing his eyes to close for a single moment as he mentally calculated the statistical probabilities of each outcome. He despised how helpless he felt. For a man whose job was to help others in need, he’d never been a position before where he didn’t have the answer, where he couldn’t come up with a solution. His heart ached as the realisation that he could very well lose her settled over him, the statistic he’d calculated of her survival being a number that was way too low for Spencer’s liking. 

For the moment, he had no choice but to wait. 

It was all he could do. 

*

permanent taglist: @beyonces-breastmilk​ @pinkdiamond1016​ @itsmyblogandillreblogifiwantto​ @thelovelyrose​ @averyhotchner​ @cynbx​ @calm-and-doctor​ @reidyoulikeabook​ @katexrichardson​ @jemimah-b99​ @muffin-cup​ @shadyladyperfection​ @rigatonireid​ @amoeebaa​ @mggsprettygirl​  @alltooreid​ @s1utformgg @awritingtree

spencer reid taglist: @reidtome

[spacedikut]

the blessing of a blizzard ; spencer reid

pairing: spencer reid x gn!reader

summary: a blizzard leaves the team holed up in the bau office. spencer can’t stop thinking about your elusive boyfriend, mike, who might not be your boyfriend after all. 4.3k

a/n: festive fic! kind of! im too scared to do a final check so if there’s errors or i misuse pronouns just lemme know ily happy holidays ! thank you to the incredible @homoose for helping with dialogue :D

Mike. His name is Mike, and Spencer hates him.

Full name Michael, Spencer presumes, which comes from Hebrew meaning “who is like God?” A rhetorical question, implying there is no person like God, Michael was one of the archangels in Hebrew tradition and the only one identified as an archangel in the Bible.

What Michael should mean, however, is the guy that stole your heart and left Spencer thinking things very unlike him – that Mike, a man Spencer has never met and that clearly makes you very happy, has a really stupid name, for example.

There are three things Spencer knows about him:

1. Ever since you started deciding on his wardrobe, ladies love him. It makes you a little jealous, apparently.

2. You love baking him homemade treats whenever you can. Like a movie playing in his head, Spencer can perfectly remember you excitedly chatting with Garcia and Emily, animatedly explaining how excited Mike gets when he sees you’ve made something just for him.

3. Mike can be a bit of a dick, actually. There have been several mornings you’ve come in with a long face, leaning back in your desk chair far enough to view the world upside down and whining about how grumpy Mike was that morning, how you had to tip-toe around your apartment lest he get mad.

You’d called him your soulmate, added that he’s a light in your life you didn’t know you needed until you had him. You’re a person who chooses their words carefully, so when you’re walking around putting Mike and soulmate in the same sentence, you mean business.

That business is ripping Spencer’s heart out of his chest, apparently. Because you’re busy showing JJ pictures of him on your phone right now, blissfully unaware of the subconscious glare Spencer is lasering into your phone as he leans against the jet counter.

Spencer’s never had the honour of seeing Mike (a genuine word you used – honour) and you know what? Spencer doesn’t want to know what Mike looks like. Spencer doesn’t care. Mike’s probably ugly, anyway, and Spencer’s confidence within himself grows day by day and if there’s one thing he’s learnt recently it’s that comparison is the thief of joy and-

“Oh!” JJ exclaims, “He’s gorgeous!”

Fuck Mike. Really, fuck him.

+++

The floor is slippery beneath everyone’s feet, the surrounding area slowly losing its mixture of colours to blend into one coat of white.

It’s snowing.

Garcia greets the team, a steaming cup of tea in her bejewelled hands, and everyone gets to work right away. There’s whispers of the snow getting heavier and sticking and covering more and more ground with more and more depth; people are rushing against the proverbial clock to get done and get home before they’re all stuck.

But that won’t happen, right? If people were genuinely concerned about getting snowed in, surely everyone would’ve been sent home early as a precaution. Right? Right?

Wrong.

Rossi’s the one to notice it, calling out, “Check it out. Snow’s pretty bad.”

He says it like it’s nothing, like they’ll race to the windows then deflate with disappointment because you couldn’t even create a single snowball with that light coat, but holy hell people are walking around with snow up to their ankles and it’s still coming down thick. And then the lights are flickering and JJ is making frantic calls home to Will and Hotch is exiting his office, phone pressed to his ear, calling everyone to attention:

“There’s a blizzard incoming. It’s too dangerous for anyone to be on the roads, so we’re being told to sit tight. You should all try to call home, just in case; we don’t know how long we’ll be here.”

Some people still brave it, still try to head on home, and whether they make it or not is up to the Gods. The team glance around, varying expressions – Emily and Derek look pissed, JJ is worried, and you and Rossi are straight-faced. Penelope is bouncing in excitement.

“It’s like a sleepover!”

All Spencer can think about is how Mike will have to suffer another day without you. He bites back a smile.

+++

Spencer’s straining his neck, butt barely on his desk chair, in attempt to see around all the bustling people that stand between you and him. Through the glass BAU doors, on the phone, your shoulders are slumped and you kick your boot against the floor a few times to channel your multitude of emotions into something. He hopes Mike isn’t giving you a hard time for something that isn’t within your control.

Emily looks up from her monitor, where she’s doing Christmas shopping even though it’s Christmas Eve, and looks thoroughly amused by Spencer’s internal battle of wanting to watch you but not wanting it to be obvious.

“You good, Reid?”

Spencer flinches like Emily pinched him. “Yeah, good. Fine. Are you good?”

Emily makes a show of slowly turning to look at you, still on the phone, then slowly turning back to Spencer’s wide-eyed gaze. She smirks. “You think they’re talking to Mike?”

Yes, Spencer does think that, but he’d made a point to not fully acknowledge it. And there’s something about Emily’s smugness that tells Spencer she’s teasing him – she knows something he doesn’t and it makes his eyes narrow. “Probably. Why?”

Whatever the response is, Emily’s barely opened her mouth before she’s interrupted by Penelope Garcia gracefully clapping her hands, getting the attention of every BAU member. The team quiets and all eyes are on Penelope. Except Spencer, who watches with concern as you sneak back to your desk, a furrow to your brow and downward dips either side of your mouth.

“I know these are less-than-great circumstances, and we’re stuck in work of all places, but that shouldn’t mean we can’t have a little fun! So…”

She wildly gestures for Hotch to step forward, a cheesy grin on her face and a gleam in Hotch’s eye that tells everyone he’s also smiling but internally, and she takes the three large boxes he was carrying like the good sidekick he is.

“We’re building gingerbread houses!”

There’s exclamations of surprise and joy; Emily lights up at the idea of doing anything other than work or sitting at her desk, and JJ takes a box to look it over before asking, “Where did you get these?”

Hotch answers. “They were supposed to be for the kids,” He shrugs, holding back a smile, “However, I guess we can use them now.”

“Yes,” Penelope nods, “Yes, we can use them now. Get your game faces on, because this is a competition. Hotch and Rossi are the judges, because they’re grumpy old men, and the rest of us will be in teams of two fighting to build the best gingerbread house the BAU has ever seen.”

Derek speaks up for the first time, just to insult Spencer. “I refuse to be on a team with Reid. He has no creative skills.”

Members of the team laugh and Spencer reacts indignantly. He wants to reply, but you’re already speaking.

“Hey! I’ll take him! Spencer’s great.”

Many heads snap to you when you speak, Spencer’s surely got whiplash, but you’re looking at him and smiling at him and him alone. He’s breathless at the sight, how you chose him and have literal stars in your eyes, yet all he can think is how undeserving he is of such a beauty. How undeserving anyone is, mostly Mike, to exist in the same reality as someone who puts the definition of beautiful to shame.

Spencer’s about to make the best damn gingerbread house the world has ever seen.

+++

So, building a gingerbread house? A little more difficult than originally thought.

Maybe it’s the sticky icing, or the temptation to simply eat all the sweet decorative candy rather than use it for its intended purpose, or…

Maybe it’s the pretty teammate Spencer has that keeps brushing against him, keeps brushing against his hands, and like a virus to a computer you completely wipe Spencer of all thoughts other than: Y/N.

Spencer caught you watching him while he was rolling up his shirt sleeves, caught you staring at his hands and trailing your eyes up his forearms, following the sleeves as they moved inch by inch up to his elbows.

Then, when Spencer was holding two pieces of gingerbread together, you were too lost in thought to put the icing between the cracks and cement them together. Your eyes were trained on the fingers pressing the pieces together. Spencer had to call your name three times to wake you up.

Then, something weird happened (if the previous instances weren’t weird enough). You two had been in your own bubble of hushed tones and accidental touching, surrounded by bickering and collapsing houses and at one point Emily offered Rossi twenty bucks if he just votes for her and JJ without them making a house, and suddenly it’s silent. All he can hear is his heartbeat, his blood pumping in his ears, and all he can feel is the warmth of your breath on his ear because you’re right there, over his shoulder, joining him in hunching over your creation to decorate it with all kinds of shapes and colours.

The close proximity is too much. It’s too much.

You lean even closer, shoulder and arm pressed directly against Spencer’s, and lift another hand to place a miniature candy cane next to the gingerbread door. The action causes your hand to brush Spencer’s, and for the first time ever he’s not jolting away like he’s been electrocuted, no, his hand stays there, hovering, waiting and hoping for more.

Hoping for more of you.

And you seem to realise, too, that Spencer’s reaction is abnormal. He can’t decide if you’re testing the waters, or if it was a mere accident. But what are you testing the waters for? Why are you trying to touch him? Why do you want to touch him?

He takes a sharp intake of breath. From the corner of his eye, he sees you turn to look at him, and he almost doesn’t reciprocate. Almost.

You’re so close, face so close to his own. You take the softest breaths, in and out, sending the gentlest puffs of air onto Spencer’s lips.

He has no idea what the fuck is happening. He doesn’t want it to stop.

Your eyes, always shining and full of an emotion Spencer can’t decipher, dance around his face – his eyes, to his nose, stopping on each cheek, back and forth and up and down. Spencer’s captured by them, unable to tear himself away, which has become quite the habit since he’s known you.

Then you’re looking at his lips.

Spencer blinks, hoping to clear away the obvious hallucination he’s having, but no. Nothing changes. Your gaze remains, unwavered, making Spencer subconsciously open his mouth. The softest gasp leaves it when your pupils dilate.

This is the perfect moment to kiss, right? Right here, in front of the gingerbread house you made together, decorated together, and now begin the start of something else together. It makes sense, it’s almost poetic, and Spencer’s thought about you and him in a relationship enough times to consider this opportunity good and sweet enough to regale everyone with in the future.

Can you imagine it? “We had our first kiss in front of the gingerbread house we slaved over together. We won the competition, too.”

There’s a loud clang – Penelope found an actual gong from somewhere – and Rossi announces that the timer has gone off and it’s time for the judges to vote for the winner.

When you gently pick up yours and Spencer’s creation and take it to a cloth-covered table, where Rossi and Hotch ominously stand with their arms crossed, Spencer is frozen in place.

Oh my god. Oh my god.

There’s no way you wanted to kiss him. It isn’t possible. You’ve never looked at him like that before. It must’ve been a mistake.

But you were so close…

No. If Spencer made that move, it would’ve ruined everything – your friendship, the festive fun, the atmosphere of the entire evening. Everyone’s expected to be stuck here for at least another six hours, and making it tense and awkward was not something Spencer is willing to do.

But your eyes…

Spencer can’t think about that fact too much. That could mean anything – dilated pupils don’t necessarily mean you’re in love. You could’ve gotten a good whiff of the gingerbread and felt hungry, or a song you really liked started playing from the playlist Penelope created. Or, most likely, Spencer thinks, you were thinking about someone else.

Your boyfriend, for example.

You have a boyfriend. Mike.

Of course, you were probably thinking of Mike. Your boyfriend.

Spencer almost kissed someone in a relationship, and he’s pretty sure you almost kissed him too.

+++

Much to Derek’s chagrin, you and Spencer win the gingerbread house contest.

Penelope was baffled, frantically gesturing to the Jacuzzi she made with icing and- Derek made miniature weights? Somehow? It looked chaotic.

“Practicality, my dear,” Rossi told her. “Who, living in a gingerbread house, is worried about working out?”

Even though you and Spencer were the winners, Derek and Penelope and their pouting (and calls for a rematch) took the attention away from the obvious awkward tension between the winners. Spencer stayed at the desk you worked at while you took your house to the judges, stayed at the desk when you were crowned and stayed at the desk when you cheered.

You looked at him, wide grin and happy eyes, and all he could do was tightly smile back. Give a thumbs up.

He gave you a thumbs up. You nearly kissed less than ten minutes prior. And all he could do was give you a thumbs up.

The light in your eyes dimmed, but you seemed to understand.

Understand what, exactly? Spencer’s not so sure either. But something clicked in your head – you nodded to yourself as if confirming whatever you’ve concluded, and turned your back to him.

That was an hour ago. Now, the team has spread across everyone’s desks. Turns out, Hotch is a big fan of gingerbread - he’s consumed most of Derek and Penelope’s creation, icing and all, while Rossi has decided now is a good time to open one of the many bottles of whiskey he has in his office.

Spencer believes having that much alcohol in your work environment is breaking some kind of rule, but the snow isn’t letting up and it looks like a sleepover in the BAU office is likely. He deserves a little whiskey.

And where are you in all of this?

Spencer won’t lie and pretend he hasn’t had you in his line of sight the entire time, so he’ll recap what you’ve been doing: laughing at Derek’s jokes, plaiting Penelope’s hair, eating the candy Emily and JJ didn’t use on their house.

You’d left the room to call home and check up on things (check up on Mike, Spencer thinks bitterly) and now you stand in front of the large window by the BAU elevators, watching the snow fall.

Spencer has the perfect view of you through the glass doors. When the call ends and you stay there, he grabs a paper plate, grabs one of the walls from yours and his masterpiece and makes his way towards you.

He doesn’t know what he’ll say, or how he’ll even act, but he wants to talk to you. Things feel weird after the almost-kiss, and Spencer never wants things to be weird with you. He can’t have things weird with you. You hadn’t talked to him once since the competition, and he has a feeling you’re waiting for him to make the first move.

So he does. If that’s what you need, he’ll do it.

(He’s making this more dramatic than it needs to be, really, but he feels everything so deeply when it comes to you)

“Hey.”

Spencer’s voice perfectly matches the snowy atmosphere. It makes you feel warm inside, like you’ve just taken a sip of hot cocoa, and so often he’s left goosebumps on your skin just from speaking.

Seeing the outstretched paper plate in his hand, you take it gratefully. “Hi there. Thanks.” You nod to the gingerbread that you begin breaking up.

You hand him the first piece even though he brought it for you, and it’s silent while you both chew thoughtfully and watch the pure white outside. It doesn’t feel weird, necessarily, standing here, shoulder-to-shoulder with you, but you’re certainly more in your head than usual. You’re thinking a lot and, as much as it hurts him, Spencer knows you’re likely preoccupied by your boyfriend and not what transpired between you earlier.

It’s that thought, that disappointment settling into his chest, that opens his mouth unconsciously: “How’s Mike? Does he know you’re not making it home tonight?”

He regrets it immediately, worsened by the way you stop mid-chew, eyes dimming like Spencer’s taken a baseball bat and shattered the lights inside.

This is unchartered territory – talking about Mike with you – and you know it. Who, in their right mind, willingly asks the person they have feelings for how their relationship with someone that isn’t you is going? Does Spencer enjoy pain?

Although this is the first time Spencer’s mentioned Mike to your face (he’s mentioned Mike plenty to a laughing Derek), he’s been so close to presenting the topic many times. He wants to know so badly – wants to know how well Mike treats you, really treats you (he will profile you), if you see a long-term future with him and if not, on average how long does it take you to get over your exes? Just an estimate?

You swallow the gingerbread you’re eating. “He’s okay. My roommate has to take care of him, but at least he’s got someone.”

Huh?

Since when do you have a roommate?

And why is your roommate taking care of your boyfriend?

Oh. Guilt blooms in Spencer when it registers that he’s been thinking ill of a person that might be sick. No wonder you dote on him so much and seemed devastated to make that phone call home earlier - Mike needs you, you can’t be there for him, and you feel horrible for it.

Spencer feels horrible for having the subject of his anger be someone you so clearly cherish, so deeply love. He’s embarrassed that if he was asked to explain why he hates Mike so much, he’d have to tell them it’s because Mike has you, and you’re what Spencer wants. What about what you want?

“Take care of him?” Spencer asks. The concern is genuine, which is an emotion he never thought he’d have in regards to Mike. “Is something wrong?”

“Oh,” You shrug. “He needs someone watching over him at all times, that’s all.”

That’s all?

You continue. “Make sure he eats – and only eats what he’s supposed to. Give him his meds. Make sure he poops. Those kinda things.”

What?

“Your… roommate makes sure your boyfriend poops?”

Now, Spencer knows what you look like when you’re confused. Honestly, he has every facial expression you’ve graced him with tucked away in a proverbial box he spends too much time thinking about. He knows that when you’re trying not to laugh, you bite the inside of your left cheek. When you’re frustrated but need to present a professional front, you bite the inside of your right cheek. Happiness fills your entire face, like every inch is consumed by it, and you’ve trained yourself to transport anger to your hands, where they twist into tight fists and leave fingernail marks in your palms.

Confusion is one of his favourites (second only to joy – for obvious reasons. Have you seen your smile?) because it takes many forms. You’ve pursed your lips, narrowed your eyes, tapped your foot on the floor. When you do them all, Spencer considers it a jackpot. There’s something about the way you look when you’re presented with something you can’t quite figure out yet, when you’re perplexed, that just-

You make it hard for him to concentrate. He can’t be a genius when you’re around because you’re so pretty. You’re a vision and he can never rattle off information to you specifically because he will trip up and divert to talking about the beauty that is you and that would be embarrassing for many reasons.

But this type of confusion? The way you’re looking at him right now? He’s never seen this before. Your jaw has dropped, your brows are furrowed so deeply they might fall off, and you look… horrified.

“My… my boyfriend?”

Spencer mirrors your expression. “Yeah, your boyfriend. Mike?” He looks around, waiting for cameramen to jump out and tell him he’s being pranked, because why don’t you know who your own boyfriend is?

You move slowly, placing the half-eaten plate on the windowsill before turning to face Spencer fully. You take a second to compose yourself.

“Mike is my cat.”

Mike is…

“And he’s having digestive issues, so he needs to be watched pretty much full-time.”

Silence. Tense, weird silence.

“…You thought Mike was my boyfriend?”

Spencer sputters, then, because of course he did! “Yes! The way you talk about him was… it was… it seemed…”

He flustered, oh so flustered, hands flailing and face enflamed and burning from the inside out. How had he not known?! How had… how had your wires gotten so convoluted, so mixed?

Does everyone know that Mike is a cat? Is Spencer the only one out of the loop? The look Emily gave him earlier, that knowing too-smug look, was that…

She was making fun of him. She knew he thought Mike was a person, not a pet, and was teasing him because of it.

All at once, the world seems lighter and dimmer – a contradiction that leaves Spencer’s chest heaving – because the past year feels like a lie. He’s spent so long seeing the way you come to life when talking about Mike, sitting opposite you on the jet as you awaken like a dying flower watered when home got closer and closer, and it was all for… a cat?

There’s a mist over Spencer’s eyes as he recalls every overheard declaration of love and coos of how handsome Mike is, and you’re laughing. Spencer’s having a crisis in front of your very eyes and you’re laughing. Hunched over, a single tear falling from your eye, clutching your stomach because it hurts from the ferocity of your giggles.

By the time you quieten, your hand is over your mouth to cover the big grin that grounds him, gives him something other than this revelation to focus on. Spencer’s still baffled, frazzled, but there’s the tiniest of smiles on his face because of how overjoyed you look. And he did that. Albeit his stupidity did it, but Spencer’s stupidity nonetheless.

You’re out of breath. “God I… I don’t even know what to say. You really thought my cat was my boyfriend?”

Spencer’s fighting a smile, lips wiggling. The way you’re looking at him now, all blinding smile and crinkled eyes, alleviates him of any anxiety he earlier had. Like you’ve wiped away his plate-full of worries, all the times it felt like he took an arrow to the heart, all the times he caught you smiling at your phone because you were looking at pictures of Mike, it’s all worth it. Because you’ve never looked like this while talking about Mike, and Mike is a cat. He isn’t a person, isn’t your boyfriend. Mike is a cat and Spencer has a chance.

Spencer has a chance.

“Does this… this means you’re single, right?”

A somewhat terrified look overtakes his face.

“Oh, shoot, you are single, right?”

You bite your lower lip and nod. “Yes, Spencer. I’m single.”

He lets out a breath. “Good. That’s good. I’m glad.” He repeats your nod, realises what he said could imply, and starts shaking his head. “Not-not good good. You’re incredible and need to be appreciated, but… good, because that means we could, you know…” He gestures vaguely. God, why can’t he get coherent words out? “If you wanted to, we could-“

“Are you trying to ask me out, Spencer?”

“Yes.”

Just to cause immense emotional distress, you raise an eyebrow, mischief clear on your face, and wait for him to continue.

“You want me to actually ask?” He winces.

“I’ve spent the last year convinced you didn’t like me, so, yes, I want you to actually ask.”

The new information sends ice down Spencer’s back because what? Since when? “You- what?“

“I’ve liked you for a while, Spencer,” You cross your arms over your body, slightly embarrassed. “But you always kept your distance so I did too, I guess.”

“I thought you were taken!” Spencer exclaims. “If I’d known I would’ve-we could’ve- I would-“

“You’d what, Reid?” There’s a teasing lilt to your tone, but there’s no denying you’re incandescently happy.

He takes a deep breath and asks what he’s wanted to for far too long. “When this is all over, would you like to go on a date with me, Y/N?”

Relief flashes in your eyes, like you didn’t fully believe what was happening until he finally asked, and words have never sounded as pretty as when you say: “Yes. Yes I would.”

Like lovesick idiots, you stand in front of the window with the snowfall as a backdrop, grinning at each other. You can’t help it – you lean up, press a kiss to his cheek that immediately sets his skin ablaze, and fall back onto your feet with a smile sweeter than all the sugar you’d consumed today.

“Merry Christmas, Spencer.”

Somehow, despite the nerves and the way his heart is trying to leap into your hands, he manages to tell you, “Merry Christmas, Y/N.”

+++

(Three weeks later, Spencer meets the Mike. Turns out he’s a nice guy. Spencer takes the first opportunity he can to apologise for all the bad things he said about him behind his back. The purring tells Spencer he’s forgiven)

+++

tags: @pinkdiamond1016 @bluerose512 @andreasworlsboring101 @bitchyreids @roses-and-grasses @ta-ka-shi-ma @rexorangecouny @unmistakablyunknown @goofygubler14 @gublertoon @averyhotchner @prettyboy-reid @shadyladyperfection

[sunflowerryvol6]

Cheat Day Part 2

I don't know what made me write this, but I hope this makes some sense. Dedicated to the sweetest @hstyleswomen @harrysficreblog

Masterist

Warnings: Angst

WC: 2800

Six years later.

The first few years of the split were brutal. You both couldn't spend a moment in the room with each other without crying or fighting. There seemed to be no end to your suffering, it seemed. But like all wounds, time heals most. You just needed some time to get your head in the game. Luna was your priority, after all.

Harry and you had found a rhythm in co-parenting. He would have her on weekdays for half the month, and rest you would have her. You both would alternate on weekends. As years have gone by, you both have learned to spend more time together, for Moonie's sake. Last year, you went on a vacation too. You, Moonie, Harry and his girlfriend Lisa. You and Lisa didn't have a great start, but both of you decided to hash it out for the sake of your little girl. She loved Moonie as her own, and you couldn't be more grateful. Lisa and Moonie had a beautiful relationship; she was a friend you little moon needed. Whenever Harry and you had arguments, Lisa would take Moonie and excuse herself out of the crossfire. Spending time with Lisa has made Moonie realise that it's possible to have more than one parental figure, and you can love them all the same. You couldn't be happier. You had finally got the opportunity to dive back into work fully and have a support system. That's what Lisa and Harry had become to you. Your support system.

Lisa and Harry met two years after the split. She had always been very kind to you, but it took you some getting used to the idea of your ex-husband with somebody else. So, of course, there was friction at first, but over time once you got to know her a little bit, you both got on very well. It definitely has something to do with the way she treated your daughter.

Lisa was a widow. Her husband and the little boy died in a freak accident. She never told you the details of how it happened, but it was something she was dealing with on her own. Harry had supported her through her grieving process, and that's what brought them together. It can seem odd to people how they got together, but those who know them know they're great for each other. Harry had changed too, since meeting her. He had a newfound appreciation for his daughter and his ex-wife and the relationship they had. That's what pushed him to work through the differences he had with you. He had to find a way to make things work and still be in your daughter's life. It took a lot of fights and compromise. But in the end, you two decided to put your past behind and march on ahead as a family. Even though it's not what you had signed up for in this relationship, but that doesn't mean you're not grateful for it.

It was Friday night, and Harry and Lisa would be coming in with Moons anytime now. It was a tradition you three had started for your little girl. Anne was coming over too. She wasn't happy with what happened, but she made peace with the situation like her son. You had taken the home you and Harry had bought, and he'd moved into another house close by. You both decided you needed to be closer to Luna. Even though it had led to multiple fights, in the end, you knew it was the best decision to stay close by. A few years ago, when Luna's appendix burst, he was close by to drive you both to the hospital and took care of at the hospital. When you have to go on work trips, he is there to take her in. It's an unconventional set-up, but it works.

Harry walks into your house with a very smiley Lisa on his arm. "Why are you smiling so much?" You ask her. She shows you her hand coyly. "Harry proposed to me this afternoon." Anne looks up from her phone, surprised. She smiles wide and the couple "Oh honey! I'm so happy for you both!" She rushes to hug the couple. Luna runs up to Lisa and Harry to embrace them. "I'm so happy for Pa! and you too, Lise!" Harry reaches down to her level and kisses her on the cheek. You were just standing and watching this exchange, kind of stunned. You knew they were serious, but you didn't think he was going to propose. You quickly recover and walk over to Lisa, "I'm so happy for you, Lisa! Congratulations!" You hug her, and over her shoulder, you can see Harry looking at you, and you wipe your eyes quickly and pull away from the hug.

The night goes better than you'd expected. You all celebrated with a nice bottle of wine and stories of how they met, and she told stories of her first few times interacting with Moons. Overall it was a beautiful night of reminiscing. Too bad you disagreed. You'd had a little too much to drink and caught Harry looking over to you every time you refilled your glass. You knew better than to call him out on it. So you just sat in a corner and wished you'd disappear.

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

You wake by the incessant ringing coming from your phone. It's Harry. It's pretty late for him to be calling you, so you answer. "Harry, what's wrong?" You ask.

"Open your door; I'm outside." He speaks. You look at the time on your phone and get back on call. "What are you doing here? Why'd you call?" You ask again. "Just come out. I'll explain." You get out of bed and wear your robe and walk downstairs to your main door.

"Harry. What are you doing here? Are you drunk?" You look at him, confused.

He walks in. "I shouldn't have done it. I shouldn't have asked Lisa to marry me. I knew it when I broke the news to you today. I knew it was a bad call. I thought you wanted me to move on, but looking at your face today, I couldn't believe I had done that to you." He breathes out.

You look at him wide-eyed at his confession. "What the fuck? Did you just walk in here thinking you were going to make this stupid fucking argument and I was going to fall for it?" You say to him.

"Y/N, I know you love me."

"Of course, I love you, you bloody moron. I do, and I have for the last 15 years. But you cheated on me, remember? And you brought Lisa into our lives, whom I love very dearly, by the way. So what do you think was going to happen?"

"I can't stand being away from you. Living so close, yet you won't let me come near you. It's been killing me slowly each day." His lip was trembling as tears well in his eyes.

"Harry, you made this choice 4 years ago. You asked her to marry you. Why would you do this to me now?"

"I just need to kiss you once, please. Harry pleads.

"Think about Luna. Think about what you're ruining for her. We have already broken up our family. You can't break it anymore and cause her pain, please. I love you, I do. Very very much, and I can't stand here and watch you ruin yet another relationship, Harry."

"Please listen to what I'm saying. I love you, goddamnit! I need you to recognise that. I need you to tell me it will be okay, and we will be okay."

"We are okay, H. As okay as we can be. Please go back home to your fiancé, and don't bring this up again ever. For the sake of our daughter. Please." You're pleading with him now with tears streaming freely.

You turn around and walk back to your room. You laid back on your bed and cried quietly into your pillow.

You knew what you were going to do.

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

You stand outside the door of your ex's mother. You have no idea how you will tell her what you have done to her daughter-in-law to be. But you had no one to turn to. So, you ring the doorbell and wait for her to open the door.

"Hello, darling! What a wonderful surprise!" She beams at you. You give her a small smile and walk into the house. You get comfortable on the couch in the living area while she closes the door and comes up to where you're sitting. "Moonie didn't want to come along?" She asks as she goes back to folding the laundry you had caught her in the midst of. "No, it's just me today." You spoke. "Let me put on some tea, and we'll have a good ol' mother-daughter chat. What d'ya say?" She smiles. "Yes. That sounds like a great plan." You smiled.

You both sat at the kitchen island, sipping on peppermint tea and mindlessly talking about things and catching up. You had yet to tell her. "Darling, let's stop beating around the bush, shall we?" Anne says to you. You freeze. She couldn't have known, but she definitely knows what's up.

"Harry came to talk to me the night he proposed." You looked down at your cup shamefully. Anne reached out to place her palm on yours, "I know. He told me." She smiles sadly.

"Yeah, and I can't live here anymore knowing how he feels." You whisper. "Are you going to tell him?" Anne seems calm like she understands how this must feel. "No." You look up at her with tears welling up in your eyes.

She gets up from across the table and comes around to where you are seated. She reaches out to you, and you lean into her and hold her waist, silently crying.

"Everything will fall in place, my child."

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

You travelled a lot the following month, so it was easier to avoid Harry after that conversation you had. You had spent countless nights crying into your pillow. You knew you had to go back to therapy. You couldn't slip now. You had been doing so well.

Moonie was supposed to stay with you tonight. Harry would be dropping her off from ballet any moment now. You had been avoiding him ever since the incident between you too. You couldn't bear to look at him or Lisa. You just made up excuses most Fridays, some of which you were travelling, so it wasn't that big a deal. You were home to spend time with your girl and back to the office. Today, you'd just have to suck it up and face him. You didn't know what you'd say, but you couldn't avoid him forever. The thought alone had your stomach-churning. Suddenly the tacos you had for lunch didn't seem to be such a great idea. You walked into the kitchen and poured yourself a glass of cold water. You took an icepack from the fridge and carried both the items, and sat back on the couch with your head leaned back. You checked your phone for the time, and just in time, the bell rang. You got up from the sofa and walked up to the door. Opened the door to find Moonie, Harry and Lisa, all standing in front of you. You could see her ring glistening even in the porch light outside your home.

Suddenly you felt lightheaded and reached for the doorframe to steady yourself. Before you could think, you sunk down. But Harry was quick to catch you. Harry knelt beside you and laid your head on his lap, "It's okay, you're okay." He said softly. "Lisa! could you bring her some water, please". That's the last thing you heard before you passed out.

He was still standing behind you. "Are you feeling ill?" You rolled your eyes at him, you tried to sit up, and he helps you. "No, I think it's just the travelling." His eyes softened at your comment, "I've been calling you; you know? Why didn't you answer any of my calls?" He asks.

What were you supposed to say to that? I'm sorry that you want to leave your fiancé for me? Instead, you just shrugged. "I've been busy, Harry. Actually, I don't feel so good right now, so could we maybe talk about this later?" You turned to look at him. He moved backwards and out of your way to give you some room. "Yeah, sure. Can I get you something? I can stay with you for a few hours." He asked. "No. That won't be necessary, Harry. Please go home."

You walk into the living room and find Lisa making a cup of tea. "Hey, you feeling any better?" She smiles at you. She pours the tea into a cup and brings it over to you, "It always helped me, so I figured why not?" You thank her and take the cup from her.

"Yeah, I think it's just the stress from travelling so much. I'll be okay in a few days. I think I'm going to turn in." You asked. "Of course, darling. You just feel better, okay?" She smiles at you. "Honey, Let's head home and give this one some time to rest." She walks up to Harry and puts her arm around him, and sweetly pecks his cheek. He smiles, but it doesn't quite reach his eyes. "Yeah, I'll just go say goodbye to her", And he walks towards your daughter's room.

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

Harry : I need to see you, please.

You: Come over after dinner today.

Harry: See you x

"Are we going to talk about what happened?" He raises an eyebrow at you. "I think we're past the stage of talking at this point." You sigh. "What do you mean?" He asks. He's furrowing his brows at you like he does when he's concerned about something.

"I'm leaving, Harry."

"What."

"Yeah, I have been planning it for 2 months now. I don't know how long I'll be gone."

"I came to tell you that I ended things with Lisa, and I wanted to give us a real shot. Give Moonie an actual shot at a family."

"I don't need to tell you anything, really. We can figure out the details of how we're going to manage custody later over text or call."

"So you're just going to leave your daughter go to god knows where?" He asks you.

"I can't be here anymore, Harry. This opportunity will bring countless more opportunities for Moonie and me. And I need to do this for myself. Now, if you will please." You show him the door.

That was the last time you'd see Harry for a long time. But that's something he didn't need to know.

You didn't know if you'd be able to go through with it. But it had to be done. If Harry were to leave Lisa or not, it had to be on his terms, not because he was in love with you.

A few months later

When you told Anne about your plan, she wasn't exactly on board. But she understood, and she loved you. So, of course, she brought you to her farmhouse for you to stay. You and Luna made an agreement that she wouldn't tell her Pa that you're camping out here. Anne would bring her down on weekends. You'd found a strange confidante in your daughter. Not that you'd go into the details of your relationship with Harry, but she understood many things that you didn't give her credit for. That's how you spent the past few months. Getting to know your daughter, who hadn't been a stranger to your problems with Harry, even though that's how you wanted it to be.

You were sipping your morning coffee as you check your emails for anything you had lined up for the day. The date was looming over you, and you just needed to be as distracted as to not think about the wedding happening right now. You need to occupy yourself with work. So, you open the email folder and find an email from Lisa. She has tried to reach out to your multiple times on call and via text, but you always make an excuse about work or being sick. With time she stopped reaching out so often, and you felt less guilty for moving away.

Dear Leyla,

I can't say I haven't missed you these past few months. Hope you're well. I'm getting married today, and you're not here. In a way, I get why you left. But I just wanted to let you know that I wanted you here, just as much Moonie and Harry. Especially him. But you already knew that, didn't you?

With time, I hope he loves me just as much you love him.

Love,

Lisa.

You couldn't stop crying now. You knew that she knew.

[dolliedarlin]

Hi I’m one of the anons who’s obsessing over the P.A series!!!!! For some reason my brain has been full w diff things that could happen IDKKK! Hope u don’t mind if I dump a few....

TW: this is A bunch of rambling and some grammar errors LMAO sorry

Idk y I c y/n having a stalker💀 this prob sounds rlly weird but hear me out. (To add drama, also I Lowkey wanna c Mina,Sero and kiri get mad idk y-)

Since we all know y/n is the baddest most sophisticated b*tch (sorry idk if I’m allowed to cuss or not LMAO) her Ex lover is still obsessed w her and thinks that they are soulmate even tho they obv aren’t. I feel like y/n knows he stalks her but she ignores it until it gets worst. Like he found out where she lives. (He finds out where she lives while she’s sick which is now loll)

Anyways I feel like Mina would be over at y/ns place and since she’s getting better they are In her living room talking abt who knows what and y/n gets a knock on her door she goes to open it and admittedly closes it looking shocked. Mina being a pro hero is  supposed to be able to read body language. Mina ask her if everything is Alr and y/n OFC (stupid a**) says yes. Mina didn’t want to keep pressing the issue so she dropped it until it became a reoccurring thing with y/n and it’s not just her that noticed. She (y/n) is extremely hesitant to open the door and when she does she opens it a little bit. (And then idk her EX does crazy like breaks into her apt and scares the sh** outa y/n) THIS IS WHERE MY BIG IDEA STOPS 😭😭😭😭😭😭 that was a lotta rambling my apologies

Have a great day dollie!

oh no! please don’t feel bad, it’s always fun for me seeing what you dolls would want to happen next

although i don’t plan on bringing any psycho exes into ‘the p.a’ series, as a writer and an avid daydreamer, i can’t help but play around with this idea 

warning: there are brief mentions of violence ; this is not a part of ‘the p.a’ series but is just a little thought that i just couldn’t help but try my own hand at also ; i didn’t edit this either 😂 so kindly forgive any grammatical/spelling mistakes 

continuing on from your idea...

⏤mina, having the sneaking suspicion that something bad might happen to you that night, notifies the rest of the group later on that day

⏤usually, bakugou was in charge of you during the night and always sat in a chair beside your bed on high alert, ready to serve your every need...

⏤BUT!

⏤now that mina told them about your suspicious behaviour, all of them were put on high alert. 

⏤they all agreed to keep you unaware of their intentions by having bakugou take care of you like usual but they made sure that when on the night patrol, they were close by with their radios on and constantly being hyper aware of the shortest route to your residence from wherever they were situated - just in case of an emergency 

⏤naturally, they trusted bakugou with keeping you safe but that didn’t mean that they had no worries for you at all 

⏤seeing as you usually feel asleep before bakugou switched with the sero, who took care of you in the late evening, you were under the impression that you were alone at home 

⏤your current condition disallowed you from comfortably staying awake so you were constantly tossing and turning in bed, brows furrowed and sweating more than usual

⏤”what is she dreaming about?” bakugou utters in frustration as he continues to wipe away the vastly accumulating sweat rom your wrinkled brows

⏤he wasn’t frustrated at you no no, he was annoyed at the fact that he couldn’t make you comfortable no matter how many wet towels he uses to cook your forehead or wipe your sweat clean off your skin 

⏤as the night progresses, you eventually fall into a dreamless sleep, far too exhausted to continue stressing over your ex with the added burden of your fever on your body

⏤nevertheless, bakugou continues being on high alert at all times except for when he momentarily leaves to room so as to go to the toilet 

⏤this was the perfect opportunity for your crazy ex to sneak into your room via the window bakugou left ajar so as to help cool you down better 

⏤your ex was a creepy and disgusting man - someone that you had grown to dislike the more you got to know him and naturally left as quickly as you were able to 

⏤what followed was harassment to the highest degree, thankfully you were able to protect yourself due to your self defence training and quirk, however, it didn’t take away the shuddering feeling of being watched constantly

⏤you grew paranoid and extremely fidgety over time and eventually filled for a restraining order. unfortunately, that didn’t work and left you to deal with the situation yourself

⏤you were naive enough to think that you had shaken him after a particularly horrible beating he took from you in self defence. he had come at you with a knife but you were able to disarm him and send him limping home with a dislocated arm, a black eye and a bruised ribcage 

⏤over time, you got busy with work and slowly forgot about him, it wasn’t until today that you were reminded of his crazy obsession with you and were thrown into a panic 

⏤believing that you were alone at night and in your most vulnerable state, you didn’t feel safe and sought to deal with the situation however you could, even in your dreams

⏤all attempts were in vain, however

⏤bakugou, returning from his momentary break to the toilet came back just in time to see your creepy ex hovering over your sleeping figure. as if you sensed the unpleasant existence stalking you, your body stiffened under the blankets and you began to breathe uncomfortably, beginning to sweat bucket-fulls once more

⏤not wanting to disturb your sleep as rest was the top priority for you, bakugou crept up from behind the unknown figure and instantly went for his neck, choking him into silence as he dragged his thrashing figure outside, far away from you all the while sending a emergency signal to the rest of the squad 

⏤in no time at all, the rest of the squad arrived and had your crazy ex cornered. at this time he had already been tied up by bakugou and was ready for a quick chat 

⏤”what the hell were you doing with our yn?” kirishima began, sharp teeth grinding together as he clenched his jaw 

⏤silence 

⏤”speak up, we can’t fucking hear you,” bakugou spat as the others glared on from beside him, their eyes piercing through the moonlight and darkness of the night 

⏤”y-yn isn’t yours - that’s the first thing,” your ex finally cracked, giggling creepily in between 

⏤”you’re right,” sero began, “yn doesn’t belong to anyone so why were did you break into her house,” it took everything in sero not to lash out but they needed answers

⏤”wrong again!” your ex sang, “she doesn’t belong to you, she belongs to me! i’m her boyfriend!”

⏤”yn doesn’t have a boyfriend,” kaminari spoke up

⏤”that’s right! and if she did, we would have known,” mina agreed

⏤“that’s because she doesn’t know it yet, we broke up but we’ll get back together again soon” the tied up man giggled to himself, “it’s only a matter of time before she realises her mistake and she comes back to me,” 

⏤the team of heroes didn’t know what to say, they were so shocked and appalled at what they were seeing and hearing that they couldn’t bring themselves to utter a single word of response, they only listened further

⏤”i hoped she’d come back soon, anyway...but i was getting impatient so i had to try and convince her a little more. she’s been ignoring my love for her all this time, she can’t continue rejecting me for long...” he laughs, “i bet she misses it”

⏤“miss what...?” bakugou didn’t want to know but it had to be said

⏤”i bet she misses being with me. she’s so beautiful and so soft to the touch, she always smells good too and she has such a lovely voice - i want her all to myself, she doesn’t deserve to be anybody else’s”

⏤it was then that the team of heroes just about lost their minds. the creep before them didn’t say anything explicit but the madness in his eyes and the harrowing smile he was displaying was off putting. they dread to imagine what a lowlife nasty sob like him put you through but they saw flashes of unforgivable scenes that sent all of them into insanity 

⏤someone so precious to them didn’t deserve any such treatment. you may not have disclosed anything to them strict on being professional but if this man was willing to break into your house...they were fearful to think about what else he was capable of

⏤he deserved a beating from that act alone, actually, and a beating he got

⏤they could’ve killed the guy - they were more than tempted to and it would have been so easy...but he deserved to suffer in jail for his crimes against you so they held back no matter how painful that was for them 

⏤the very next day, under their authority and recommendation, the man was locked up for as many years as they could tally up and seeing as they were heroes, they were able to look into his past documentations and found you had filed a restraining order for him under harassment, assault and a number of other things they grew all the more furious at the more the read

⏤they would prefer it if you didn’t realise what they did that night but the media couldn’t let the story of 5 high class pro heroes sending a singular, beaten man to jail for life

⏤your creepy ex’s battered photos were all over the news and you were so incredibly grateful  

[thatrandomwriter]

Taken Prisoner

Merle Dixon x female reader, set in Woodbury

Warnings : cursing, sexual language, violence

After checking several nearby stores and having one too many close calls with walkers, Glenn and I had finally found what we were looking for - baby formula for Judith. Maggie had offered to come too, but she was far better with the baby so it was just Glenn and I.

“We should get back, don’t wanna keep Judith waiting,” I said, eager to get out of the open and back to safety. You never could be too cautious.

Glenn nodded. I reached down, packing my bag and checking to ensure my gun was secure in my waistband, along with the couple of knives I had concealed about my person. It had become an unconscious habit of mine to check for them all every few minutes or so, just in case. Distracted, I didn’t hear anyone approaching until a confusingly familiar voice made me snap around, “Now where is it y’all good people calling home?” A man was approaching from behind a van parked a few abandoned cars away. A man I would recognise anywhere, and as his eyes caught mine, I could see recognition slide over Merle’s face as he realised who I was.

“Merle? You’re alive?” Glenn was as shocked as me, but seemed to find words far quicker. He was also quicker to hostility, hand twitching to his gun, but guns were the last thing on my mind.

I stepped towards Merle, a walk that transformed quickly into a jog and then a run as I flung myself into his arms, relief and happiness entirely overwhelming the rational side of my mind. He hugged me back immediately, muscular arms enveloping me, holding me tight and secure to his chest. We had been close when we had camped outside the city; he was the one who had brought me to the group. Probably only because he thought I was fuckable. But after a couple of weeks, what was once shameless flirting turned into a real friendship. And of course, I had always been too proud to admit that I might be interested in Merle as more than a friend. In the end though, none of that had mattered when he was handcuffed to the roof and seemingly gone for good. I had thought I would never see him again, and I had never been more overjoyed to be wrong.

We finally broke apart, but only by a few centimetres.

“Missed me?” He grinned the infuriating grin that I suddenly realised I didn’t find infuriating anymore, a reminder of how much I had missed everything about him.

His smiling eyes suddenly glazed over, expression dropping to a neutral mask as he stared over my shoulder. I turned and his arms dropped from my body. Six or so men, all armed with guns, all pointed at Glenn, whose gun had been confiscated, and at me. For a moment I thought they were strangers, but one glance back at Merle told me all I needed to know. He had drawn his gun too, but it wasn’t pointed at any of the strangers.

It was pointed directly at me.

For a moment, I froze in shock. Only for a moment. As soon as I had come fully to me senses, I raised my hands in surrender, backing away from Merle and in the direction of the strangers. Slow enough for it to look like scared confusion. As soon as I was within a metre of them, I nodded at Glenn, a warning before I darted towards the armed men, flicking a knife out of my sleeve and into my hand and in one smooth motion slitting the throat of the man closest to me. He fell to the ground, choking and spluttering. Glenn hit one of the men hard in the nose and then in the gut. I moved to the next, holding a knife to his throat, about to slice into his jugular.

“Hold on there honey, don’t make any stupid decisions,” Merle had a gun pressed into the back of Glenn’s head. Some part of me had thought that somehow, if we had managed to take on the strangers, Merle would have taken our side. Clearly I had been sorely mistaken. There was no way out of this. It was two to four, plus the man Glenn had attacked who was slowly standing back up.

I dropped the knife, and then the gun in my waistband. They didn’t need to know about the other knives I had hidden.

“Check she doesn’t have anything else hidden on her. Wouldn’t want a repeat of Bentley.” One of the strangers commanded. I assumed Bentley was the man whose throat I had slit. I felt a strange sense of pride that even though I had been overpowered, I hadn’t given in without a fight.

“Sure thing, Martinez,” Another man answered and stepped forward and roughly patted me down, fishing out my two remaining knives from my clothing. So much for keeping them hidden.

Glenn and I were shoved roughly into the back of a truck with three guns pointed at us as we were driven away, Merle and Martinez in the front. The drive gave me time to realise how stupid I had been, trusting Merle despite having no idea where he had been for all the time we had been apart. Of course he had found another group - how would he have survived cutting off his own hand otherwise? Glenn hadn’t been as stupid as me. He had known straight away that Merle wasn’t to be trusted. If only I had followed his instincts instead of mine, then this never would have happened. I managed to catch his eye, and mouthed ‘I’m so sorry,’ in his direction. He shrugged. Not an angry shrug, more of a ‘what did you expect?’ sort of motion. Somehow his acceptance of the situation made it worse.

When the truck finally stopped, we were roughly guided forward again, this time down some stairs and a few grimy corridors to two rooms. They pushed Glenn into one, me into another, and I heard him struggle and groan as the thuds of fists and feet hitting flesh filled the air.

“Stop! Stop hurting him, hurt me instead, please, please just leave him alone,” I yelled out, hoping that by some miracle I would be listened to, but no response. Just more of the horrible sounds coming from Glenn’s cell.

*

It had been at least a day- there was no daylight down here, but that was my best estimate. Martinez had come into my cell a few times, but I had not suffered half as much as Glenn had. Even so, I was painfully sore and covered in blood and bruises. I was sure more of me was bruised than not. But they seemed to have realised pretty quickly that neither of us would give up where we were staying, and at this point Martinez seemed more concerned with hurting us than with finding out where Glenn and I had come from. I hadn’t seen Merle since the drive to wherever we were. Part of me was glad,but some foolish part of me thought that maybe if he saw what was happening to me, he would help me. I knew that this was stupid, but I could help but hold on to that tiny, ridiculous hope.

A few hours passed and it had been a while since anyone had come into mine or Glenn’s cells when an unfamiliar man entered my cell, followed by Merle who was uncharacteristically quiet.

“Now here’s what’s about to happen. You’re going to tell me exactly where you and your friend have been staying and how many people you have. Understand?” While he looked unfamiliar, I recognised his voice from hearing him give orders to Martinez and the other men who had imprisoned Glenn and I. He was the Governor.

I scoffed, glaring up at him and Merle who was deliberately avoiding eye contact.

“You wanna play it like that? Be my guest.” The governor, still calm collected, turned to Merle.

“You know what to do,” he said, and Merle nodded, leaving towards Glenn’s cell. Obedient and quiet - two words I never would’ve dreamed could describe Merle.

I began to hear muffled groans of pain from Glenn, making me wince with every sound. I deserved this, not him. The governor smiled at me, watching my obvious distress.

“Leave him alone.” I demanded, only succeeding in making his smile wider.

“You know what you need to do, then I promise, we’ll leave him alone,” he moved forward, uncomfortably close, “Or maybe you need a little more persuasion? You know, it’s surprising how long a person can survive without their eyes. Or their feet. Or even their hands - isn’t that right Merle?” he called out the last part to the opposite cell.

“Sure is boss,” The first time I’d heard Merle speak since getting here.

“Now I’m sure you know what I’m getting at, but just in case, I’ll be clear. Merle is pretty handy with a hacksaw as I’m sure you know, and while we need you and your friend to be able to talk, we really don’t need you for anything else. So if him losing a hand, or both, or even worse, would get you talking then I’m sure we can all agree it would be worth that sacrifice.”

He wasn’t bluffing. He opened his mouth to yell the order to Merle, but I interrupted, “The prison. We’re at the prison. Please, please just leave him alone, you don’t need to do this. Please.” My resilience had broken. We could defend the prison. We could. But I couldn’t listen to Glenn getting tortured for any longer. I just couldn’t.

The governor chuckled. “Thank you, wasn’t so hard now was it.” He got close again, and in a sudden move he struck me across the face. Hard. For a moment, the world blurred with dark spots, before I lost my vision completely and fell into darkness.

*

I could feel myself being jostled in the arms of someone carrying me. They felt familiar, and I spent a few seconds trying to place who it was, still not fully conscious. After a few seconds, I opened my eyes and saw Merle’s determined expression. He glanced down at me, but before I could ask him what the fuck was going on, I fell into darkness again.

*

The next time I began to be aware of my surroundings I felt the thin, scratchy softness of a prison mattress. Slowly, I opened my eyes, this time managing to hold onto consciousness. When I sat up, I saw Merle sat at the end of my bed. Hunched over - sleeping, I assumed. Looking around, I recognised my old cell. Finally something I could use to my favour. I reached under my pillow and grasped the familiar handle of my final knife, which thankfully hadn’t been moved.

I pushed the knife to Merle’s throat. His eyes snapped open, and he raised the blade attached where his hand once was, before relaxing when he recognised me.

“What the fuck, Merle. What the fuck!”

“Calm down honey - saved your life, didn’t I?”

“Oh that’s what you call it? You took me prisoner and watched the shit get beaten outta me and somehow you’re the hero?” I pushed the knife harder against his neck and I could tell how much he was struggling against himself not to fight back. That made me even more angry. What made him think I couldn’t kill him right then and there if I wanted to?

“I didn’t have a choice. But I got ya outta there, that count for nothing?”

I continued to glare at him. He smirked at me, infuriating and insanely attractive all at the same time, before gripping my wrist and pushing me back against the wall, forcing me to drop my knife.

“I saved yer ass, didn’t have to, but I did. The governor, he saved my life, but I chose you for fuck’s sake. I missed ya, didn’t you miss me?”

Of course I did.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” This was probably the first time I’d heard him apologise for anything.

Of course I’d missed him. A lot. And some part of me knew that he was being sincere, that he had missed me and mourned me as much as I had him. I had missed him more than anyone else we had lost, and I had no idea what I’d do if I lost him again. But I’d always been terrible at putting those feelings into words. So when I finally kissed him, I hoped I got the sentiment across. It took him a moment to register what was happening, but when he did his good hand cupped my face, sliding to my back to pull me closer into him, while his other arm braced against the wall behind me. He had released my arms, so I let my hands wander his torso, something I had longed to do for far longer than I was willing to admit. His mouth was rough and hard against mine, his teeth scraping my lower lip, stubble scratching my face. It was a sensation I had imagined so many times, it was hard to believe it was real. That Merle, obnoxious, stubborn, perfect Merle was kissing me, and I was kissing him back with all I had.