#i was right about escaping I just didn’t know how or if I would make it

[latenightdaydreams]

König x Pregnant!Y/N

MDNI🔞

Master List ✍🏽

cw: p in v, pregnancy

1.7k word count

Happy Mothers day to all the moms, maternal guardians, expecting moms, and those with babies who have left the earth!! You're all kick ass and deserve so much more than one day to appreciate all you do��

🤰

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Being your neighbor for the last two years, König has watched your marriage slowly dissolve into nothing. The loud arguments that boom through the shared walls are hard to miss. He would often keep his ear close to the wall, being ready to barge in if your husband were to take things too far. That’s why when you banged on his door around 5am to cry in his arms about your pending divorce there was no surprise. What did surprise him was the information of you being pregnant.

Since that day, König has taken you and your unborn child’s care personally. Driving you to your appointments, getting you whatever you craved, and even massaging your swollen feet. He’s always right there; pushing aside his feelings for you because it’s not something you need on your plate right now.

On Mother’s Day, you lie on your bed naked. Your arms above your head as you try to catch your breath from the hot shower you just took. That’s when you hear the doorbell. A long exhale escapes you as you struggle up to sitting position. Grabbing your fluffy blue robe, you cover yourself and walk towards the front door.

There König stands with a bouquet of pink roses and a bag in hand. You look up at him with shimmering eyes and a wide smile causing his heart to pick up pace. He extends his hand out to you.

“Für dich.”

You grasp the flowers by their stems and inspect them before returning your gaze to his. “They’re beautiful!” You step aside and hold the door open more. “Come on in.”

König crouches and enters your space. His eyes look around at the crib, still in its box and he makes a mental note to put it together for you sooner than later. The baby should be here in a month or so. He takes a seat on the end of the sofa and watches you sit.

“This is also for you.” He hands you the bag.

When you grab the bag, you pull out the tissue paper and place it beside you. There is a small black box at the bottom of the bag. You reach in and grab it, opening it slowly with a wide smile still on your face. Inside is a golden chain with a heart made with the birthstone of your childs due date and yours.

“Kö…you didn’t have to.”

“I wanted to. Plus, its your first Mother’s Day. It should be special.”

Placing the box on your lap you look up with him, tears in your eyes. “Thank you.” Your voice cracks while you try your best to hold back your emotions.

“Of course, Schatz.” König stands, walking to you and taking the necklace from the box. He walks behind you on the sofa to put the necklace on you.

You grab your hair and pull it up, exposing your neck to him. For a moment he looks at your soft skin and envisions himself kissing you. He quickly shakes that image from his mind, bending down slightly to put the jewelry on you. Your freshly washed hair smells strongly like tropical fruit and your skin like warm vanilla.

“There you are.” König smiles down at you, turning to look at the box in the corner. “Would you like for me to put that together for you?”

“Oh, you don’t have to.”

“It’s really no problem.” He says, pulling a pocket knife out and approaching the box. He cuts the tape and looks inside, pulling out the instructions. “It would be a simple task.”

“You’re too good to me, Kö. I don’t know where I’d be without you here.”

“How have you been feeling?” He asks as he kneels on the floor, pulling out the pieces he needs.

“Eh, I’ve been okay.” You lean back on the couch, exposing more of your thighs underneath your already short robe. “I feel like everything is running a marathon, I’m constantly out of breath. The hot flashes are unbearable. I feel like a giant whale.”

A small chuckle comes from König, his eyes darting to your legs for a split second. “You still look beautiful.”

“I don’t feel it.” You huff, resting your hands on your large belly. “I’ve also been so unbelievably horny, but I can barely reach myself anymore. It’s more work than it’s worth.” Once the words leave your mouth you can feel your face turn hot. For a moment you forgot you were speaking to the man you have a crush on, not just a close friend.

König puts down the wood in his hands and turns his head in your direction after hearing your comment. A small smirk on the corner of his lips as you admit that your body craves to be touched. “I’ve heard the hormones make you more…” he tries to think of a more subtle word other than horny. “excitable.”

“I—yeah. It’s true.” You look up at the ceiling for a moment. “Why do you help me so much?”

“I like to.” He replies simply as he continues to piece things together.

There is a lull of silence as he quietly works and you contemplate your next move. Is it worth possibly ruining a friendship? Does he like you or is he simply a kind soul? What if he thinks your pregnant body is unattractive?

No longer wishing to be in this awkward silence you stand up and approach him. König looks up, confused. Before he can say anything, you drop your robe.

His eyes widen as he looks at your body. Your breasts swollen with darkened areoles. Your belly large with a few stretch marks and a thin brown line down the center leading to the bush between your legs. He swallows before meeting your gaze again. Words escape him as he nods his head, standing to his feet.

König runs his finger tips down your arms before leaning in for a kiss. The moment your lips meet there is a spark between you both. His lips consume yours, breathing heavily through his nose as he trails down your chin to your neck. He lets his hands wander to your full breasts, gently tugging on your nipple.

You grab his waist and lead him back towards the couch, gently pushing him down. He sits and looks up at you once you pull back. His hands are quick to undo his pants, pulling them down to expose his hard cock. You look at it before looking back up to his eyes and straddling him.

“Wait—don’t you want me to eat you…” The words fall from his lips as he feels the tip of his cock enter your warm and wet cunt. His head falls back on the couch as his eyes lock with yours.

“Fuck, you feel so good.” You whimper as you sit completely on his fat cock and begin to rock back and forth on him.

“Mein Gott….” König’s hands grab your thighs and squeezes them as he tries to allow you to remain in charge.

The feeling of his cock stretching you after months of not having human contact sends your body into euphoria. You begin to softly bounce, your breasts moving in motion with you. Underneath you can feel his hips meeting yours, his hands gradually sliding up to your hips to assist in movement.  Quickly, your body tires. Eyes meeting his you whimper, “I want you to fuck me.”

König nods eagerly. Wrapping his arms around you, assisting in resting you back on the couch. You’re the first pregnant woman he’s been with so there is a level of fear inside of him. He’s worried he would be too rough and hurt you.

His body positioned between you legs as you hold on back, he slowly slips himself back inside of you. Your body welcomes him so perfectly he lets out a quiet groan. Gently, he pulls his hips back and thrust into you. He watches you face intently waiting for any sign that you might be uncomfortable.

“Harder.” You demand.

“I don’t want to hurt—”

“You won’t. Fuck me, please.” You feel pathetic practically begging for him to ravish your body.

No words as König places one hand on the back of the sofa and the other on your leg. He begins to trust into you like a man starved for human touch. Your pussy so wet that your sweet cum begins to drip down onto the fabric beneath you. The look on his face changes from worry to a lustful haze.

“God yes!” You cry out. The sound of his hips slamming into yours ring out in the small living space. Your fingers dig into whatever you can grab as you feel a build up begin. A wave of ecstasy crashes over your body as a borderline scream leaves your mouth.  “Fucking…fuck!”

“Cum on my cock. Cum for me.” König demands as he relentlessly fucks you.

One of his hands moves from the couch to your large round belly, gently touching it as you tremble. Your pussy pulsating on his shaft. His balls tighten, a pressure building deep inside his loin. Watching your orgasm only beckons his own.

“Schatz.” The pet name comes out in a growl as he tries to control himself.

“Please cum inside of me.” You beg. “Please, I want you cum König.”

He’s in no position to deny you want you crave. His hips pause as he feels the pleasure overwhelm him. Your name falls from his lips as he looks deeply into your eyes, filling you with his cum. There is a moment of heavy breathing before he gently leans back and pulls out, sitting on the floor next to you on the couch.

“That was amazing.” You pant with a small smile on your lips. For once your body feels desirable and pleased.

“You…wow.” König says still trying to catch his breath.

You turn on your side and comb your fingers through his messy blond hair. His eyes close as he allows himself to enjoy the feeling of being pet by you. There are obvious conversations that need to be had, for now your both just relishing in the euphoria and peace of this very moment. After a few minutes pass König turns to kiss your lips. The kiss gentle and lingers.

“I should finish the crib.” He chuckles softly before kissing you again.

[moonlit-imagines]

Headcanons for babysitting the Barton kids with Natasha

Natasha Romanoff x reader

warnings:

a/n: silly lil concept. also its like implied nat and y/n are dating but not explicit so like it can def be platonic or romantic depending on how you perceive it.

prompt:

oh you KNOWWW it’s gonna be a good time when “auntie nat” and y/n show up to babysit

clint and laura were going out of town for a whole week and left you two—the only two they trusted—to watch their three kids

and ofc the kids loved you guys to death

“can you show me how to shoot a gun?” -lila

“let’s check the rules your mom left” -nat, reading the note on the fridge “‘don’t let the kids touch your guns’ sorry kid, against the rules”

cooking was something you both were dreading

“can we take the quinjet to get mcdonalds?” -you

“only if you fly” -nat

no R-rated movies was circled and underlined on the “rules” note about 10 times

but the terminator doesn’t count right?

being woken up by nate in the middle of the night bc he cant sleep

“your turn, nat” -you

after nat didn’t come back to bed for a while you found her and nate playing “spies” (she really wanted him to be her mini-me 😭)

“y/n! wanna play?” -nate

*defeated sigh* “sure!” -you

within 20 minutes all the kids were downstairs pretending to be spies and the new mission was “get the kids back to bed”

“no, we cant dye nates hair red” -you

“it’d look great” -nat

“natasha they’re never going to let us see the kids again” -you

three kids is just a LOT of work

you had newfound respect for clint and laura

“it’d be easier if we could drug them” -nat

“yeah…..NO” -you

cooper and lila would start arguing over the shower, nate didn’t like his breakfast, nat was getting stir crazy, you were trying to patch a hole in the wall before clint ever knew it was there—yeah. pretty great stuff

check-in calls with laura

“hey! how are they doing, not causing you too much trouble?” -laura

*lila and cooper doing nat’s makeup TERRIBLY* “oh, yeah, we’re just fine. hang on. i have to send you a picture” -you, getting photographic evidence

“oh. my god. clint, you have to see this” -laura, holding up her phone to show the worlds deadliest assassin with horrendous green eyeshadow on her eyes and cheeks and smeared lipstick

“how’d they find my makeup?” -clint, sarcastically

you didn’t know it yet, but you’d be the next victim

“oh, thanks guys…you didn’t have to” -you

truthfully you and nat got some hilarious pictures together

those pictures would live on the barton fridge for years

tending to farm things

“should we call tony? the tractor is broken again” -you

“are you kidding? this is my week away from tony” -nat

it was kind of like a vacation for you guys too. it was no paris or london, but it was an escape from your routine

but you did already make plans for paris for right after this

“watching kids for a week earns us a nice vacation, right?” -you

“i feel like saving the world several times earns us a vacation, but sure, if you think babysitting is the way to go, we can do this more” -nat

lila asking for coffee

you checking the rules list, which has a bullet point saying “do not let lila have coffee”

cool aunt nat almost made her a nice little latte too

“hey, spies might be allowed to lie, but little girls are not. try again later” -you

pretending to be an elderly couple on the porch rocking chairs, drinking your morning coffe and watching the sunrise

“maybe we should retire. get a nice house in the woods. ignore the avengers when they call.” -you

“i don’t hate that idea” -nat

trying to get the kids to do their chores was a hassle

dishes, trash, laundry, cleaning bathrooms, these kids must have thought THEY were on vacation

“i hate how these kids are just not afraid of assassins. that is not normal” -nat

“it’s normal when they call a world famous assassin auntie nat” -you

“are you saying im going soft?” -nat

“i would never say that…” -you

she says in shock like she didn’t just bake cookies with them.

laura and clint finally came home and you guys had dinner ready for them

“aw, you didn’t have to do that” -laura

“don’t worry about it, i know you’ve been on the road all day” -you

you all ate dinner together and said your goodbyes and the kids all gave you a group hug

“i hope they behaved for you” -clint

“they were just perfect” -nat

and on your way out, you heard

“hey, did someone put a hole in the wall? this looks freshly patched” -clint

the kids scattered and you and nat were wise to exit promptly

“love you guys! lets do this again sometime!”

taglist: @locke-writes // @captainshazamerica // @summersimmerus // @prettysbliss // @simp-legend // @wild-rose-35 // @nekoannie-chan // @beth-gallagher22 // @sk1bidi-n1k0-e4ts-people // @deanzboyfriend // @mr-mxyzptlk-1940 //

[ghostinthelibrarywrites]

payneland + 22

Thank you for the prompt! Here's some post-canon, pre-slash Payneland:

22. “...you knew?”

CW: Referenced homophobia

They don’t talk about it, until there’s nothing to do but talk.

Charles isn’t sure how long they’ve been trapped in this iron cage; there aren’t any windows in their prison and it’s not like they need to eat or sleep. Their captors took Charles’s bag, his cricket bat, and Edwin’s notebook when they threw them in there, so there’s nothing to do to keep them occupied. There’s not even enough room for Charles to pace; the cage is barely large enough for them to both stand chest-to-chest without touching the iron bars.

So they talk, because Charles would go mental otherwise. They talk about Charles’s dad and Hell and Port Townsend and losing Niko. They reminisce about past cases. They speculate about how much Crystal and the Night Nurse are probably driving each other mad right now. And finally, when it seems there’s nothing left to talk about, they revisit the elephant that’s been hanging between them for six months now.

“I wasn’t sure if you would ever want to see me again after I told you,” Edwin says quietly, nearly a whisper. The basement is pitch dark; even though their faces are only centimeters apart, Charles can’t make out his expression.

Charles is surprised by how much that hurts. “Why wouldn’t I want to see you again?”

“Because back in my day, what I told you would have been unconscionable.”

“Well, it’s not your day anymore, is it?” Charles shakes his head. “You really thought I’d go all the way to Hell for you, then leave you on the steps?”

“Of course not. I just didn’t know if you’d want anything to do with me after we escaped.” Edwin blows out a frustrated breath. “You must understand, none of this was something to be spoken of when I was alive. It wasn’t even to be thought of. When people like me were spoken of, it was because we were the subject of scandal, condemnation, and usually criminal charges. There weren’t people like Crystal running around with flags.”

“Yeah, I get that, mate,” Charles says. Not even the happy memory of Crystal and Edwin arguing when she wanted to hang up a pride flag in the office is enough to distract him. “But I told you, didn’t I? It doesn’t matter one bit to me. It wasn’t really a surprise, to be honest.”

He knows it’s the wrong thing to say even before Edwin’s voice goes shrill with indignation. “You knew?”

“Not about you being in love with me,” Charles says quickly. “Didn’t see that one coming, trust me. But I mean, I could guess you were… not a ladies’ man.”

“Not a ladies’ man,” Edwin echoes. “How did you know”

Charles doesn’t know how to answer that, because the truth was, he just sort of… assumed. There was something about Edwin that always reminded him of Mr. Wright, the man who’d lived two doors down from him when he was a kid. He’d always seemed like a nice enough bloke, but his father sneered at him and forbade Charles from riding his bike past his house alone. It wasn’t until Charles was older that he realized that the quiet man who lived with Mr. Wright probably wasn’t just his roommate.

“I don’t know, mate,” he finally says. “Guess I just know you, don’t I?”

“Everyone always knew, back when I was alive.” Edwin doesn’t sound indignant now, just tired. “The way I walked, the way I spoke, the way I stood.  That was why Simon…”

He trails off, but Charles knows what he was going to say next. Days ago—at least Charles assumes it was days, but it may have been weeks by now—Edwin finally told him the whole story of how he died. Charles got so angry, he punched the bars of the cage and barely noticed when they burned his hand.

“They were fucking idiots,” Charles says fiercely. “All of them.”

“Of course they were, Charles. They accidentally summoned a demon as a prank. They were hardly Britain's greatest minds.”

“No, because they were shitty to you because of the way you stood.” Charles reaches up to put his hands on Edwin’s shoulders, just like he did on the stairs out of Hell, smoothing his thumbs over his collarbones. “Listen, you have to know that there’s nothing you could ever tell me that would make me never want to see you again, yeah? Nothing. You’re my best mate. That’s never going to change.”

He hears Edwin’s throat click as he swallows. “Never say never.”

“No, I will bloody well say never,” Charles says firmly. “Our friendship survived you not liking ska. It will survive anything.”

That earns him a small laugh.

Charles’s chest feels tight with a thousand emotions he can’t put a name to yet. “And I think you being in love with me is brills, okay?”

“You do?” Edwin sounds gobsmacked, which makes Charles smile. He likes taking his partner by surprise. Doesn't happen often, does it?

“I mean, it’s just… flattering, you know?” Charles’s face is warm, which is weird. Ghosts aren’t supposed to get flushed. Did he touch the iron bars without noticing? “Because you’re aces and if you love me, then I must be pretty great too, yeah?”

“Like I said in Port Townsend, you’re the best person I know,” Edwin says, voice going soft again.

Yeah, it’s definitely too warm in here. Time to get out of this bloody cage. “And at least you’re not in love with the Cat King or that bloody crow.”

Edwin lets out a huff of laughter. “I suppose it could be worse.”

Charles feels like there’s more to say, because Edwin’s got to know how much he means to him, but before he can find the right words, there’s a horrible wrenching noise, followed by a crash, as if the door has been ripped off the cage. Charles whirls around, arm thrown out to defend Edwin, ready to take on these wankers with his bare hands if he has to—

“For goodness’s sake.” The Night Nurse’s voice rings through the darkness. “I do not know how on earth the two of you managed before Crystal and I came along. Getting dragged to Hell, kidnapped by witches, and locked in cages. What a way to run a business.”

Charles’s shoulders sag with relief as Edwin makes an offended noise behind him. “Would you believe that we used to not get kidnapped all that often?”

“No,” she says flatly. “Now, come along, let’s get the two of you out of here before you manage to get into more trouble.”

***

Angst and Hurt/Comfort Prompts

[dykeadvocate]

my bitch

pairing: ellie williams x afab!reader

summary: ellie gave you a chance of freedom, but you couldn't pay her back. now, you're forced to give yourself back over to her.

content: dark themes, noncon, top!elie, hitting, crying, fingering (r receiving), owning someone, orgasm denial, threats, manipulation, threesome.

You swallowed, fighting the urge to turn around and never look back at the daunting building. Maybe, just maybe, you would be able to escape and live a normal life, but it was too risky. Ellie would have her goons on you immediately. It would be more embarrassing to be dragged back to her than to give yourself over.

“Fuck me,”

You held your head high, trying to display at least a little bit of confidence before Ellie made a fool of you. You pushed the large glass door open, the familiar smell of vanilla hitting your nose, and stopped in front of the service desk.

“How may I help you?” the woman asked. She was new; you hadn’t seen her before.

“I need to see Ellie,” you replied, glancing around the room and flinching when your eyes landed on Abby - Ellie’s trusted bodyguard. 

“Ms. Williams is appointment-based only. What are your details? I’ll contact you if an appointment is set up.” 

Your heart started to pound as Abby made her way over to you. Memories of your last interactions with the bodyguard flashed across your mind.

Your cheeks were stained with tears, and your throat was hoarse from your cries. Ellie soothed the angry red marks on your ass cheek with her hand, the coolness of her metal rings making you shiver. 

“This wouldn’t be happening if you were good, baby,” she murmured. 

You lay naked across Abby’s lap, your wrists tied behind your back and ankles together with a cute pink ribbon. The brute’s handprints marked your ass and thighs. She was stronger than Ellie, and her cruel hits proved that. 

“I’m sorry!” you sobbed.

And you were. For the past few days, you had been in a grumpy mood, and it caused you to lash out at Abby. You bit her, screamed at her, and punched her. You repeatedly told her that she would be nothing without Ellie, and you swore steam was coming out of her ears from that comment. You were surprised she didn’t right hook you then and there.

“Do you want her to stop?” Ellie questioned.

You nodded, “Please, I’m sorry!”

Abby dragged two fingers through your pussy, making you shudder and buckle your hips into her. Your face went hot with embarrassment.

“I don’t think you want me to stop.” Abby mused. “You’re fuckin’ drenched.”

Her next slap knocked the air out of your lungs, and your sobs of protest fell to deaf ears. By the time Abby was done with you, you were a drooling, crying mess.

You were snapped out of your thoughts when Abby roughly grabbed your shoulder and said, “I’ll take you to her.”

If you weren’t so fucking terrified of Abby, you would’ve shook her hand off you, but you wouldn’t dare anger that woman again. Especially not now when you know what is about to come.

The ride up the elevator and walk to Ellie’s office was awkward, but once you stood in front of the familiar door to Ellie’s office, you wished you could have stayed in the elevator forever.

“Go on,” Abby shoved you forward.

You hesitated. “I’m scared, Abby.” 

She laughed. “Yeah, I would be, too.” 

You didn’t knock, just opened the door and softly closed it behind you. Ellie was hunched over at her desk with paperwork surrounding her. It had only been five years since you last saw her, but she looked decades older. She didn’t look up from her notebook as you stopped before her desk. Your heart sank a little.

“Ellie?” Your voice sounded pathetically weak.

It felt like hours had passed before she finally looked at you. She leaned back into her chair, crossing her arms over her chest, and her pale green eyes boring into yours. 

“So, why are you here?”

You wanted to scream. She knew why you were here; everyone knew why you were here. You swallowed down your anger and took a deep breath.

“Because I don’t have the money to repay you for my freedom,”

A small smirk crept onto her face. “So, what happens now?”

You fought back tears. “I’m yours forever.”

She rounded the table and stood beside you, tucking your hair behind your ear. You kept your eyes glued to the ground. You weren’t sure if you could look at her without bursting into tears.

“How much do I normally charge for freedom?”

“A million,”

“How much did I ask from you?”

“250k,”

Ellie tucked a finger under your chin and forced you to look at her. You were crying now. The humiliation, guilt, and embarrassment were crushing you.

“Let me get this straight. I gave you a 75% discount and an extra two years to pay me, and you don't have the money?”

“No,”

Ellie huffed, “Pathetic.”

Pathetic. Those were the words she said when you told her you wanted to buy your freedom back.

It would have been a perfect night. The bath was warm and full of bubbles. You lay in Ellie’s arms, your back to her front. She drew mindless patterns on your skin and kissed your jaw lightly. Then, you ruined it.

“Are you sure?” she asked.

Her voice was void of any emotion. She sounded like a stern businesswoman. Well, that’s technically what she was in that moment.

You twisted the ring around your finger, hating the awkward tension that filled the room. “I can’t handle this type of life anymore, Els. So, yeah, I’m sure.”

“Pathetic.” 

Her words stung. Ellie helped you out of the bath, wrapping a towel around you and drying your hair. She drafted the contract, and by the next hour, you were on a train to the next city over.  

Ellie sighed, running her fingers through her hair. “Do you even realise how bad you hurt me?”

You stayed silent.

“I gave you everything I could. A home, love, safety, and wealth. Yet, you left me because you couldn’t do it anymore. I felt so fucking used and angry.”

Her hand snaked around the back of your neck, and she slammed you into the table, pinning your arms behind your back. Her breath fanned across your cheek, “And now you’re gonna make it up to me.”

She ripped your pants and underwear to the ground, shoving herself between your legs to keep them parted. You instinctively pushed Ellie away; she always liked a fight, but not this time. 

“Just fuckin’ take it,” she growled.

Two of her fingers plunged into you, and she doesn’t bother letting you adjust before adding a third. Her thumb rubbed tight circles around your clit, making you clench and cry out. 

Ellie moaned. “God, I missed this pussy,”

You feel sick. Once again, Ellie owns you, and you can never be free. You had one chance and you fucked it up.

"Ellie-"

The pleasure was building; you were close. Your fingernails dug into the table, and your back arched.

“Please, Els. Please, I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry for leaving you.” 

She laughed dryly, shaking her head. “Un-fucking-believable.” 

She pulled her fingers out, cleaning them with her tongue. She gave you a look of disgust as your lip quivered, and your eyes glistened with tears. 

“I’m sorry,” your voice broke.

Ellie sat at her desk, picked up her pen, and gestured to the couch.

"Get some rest. Once I finish this, I'm gonna make you regret everything."

You considered running out the door and trying to start a new life whilst avoiding being captured by Ellie, but it would only embarrass you. Abby was posted outside the door, and she would gladly tackle you. You wouldn't get two feet away.

You were hers forever. There was no changing that now.

[honeypiehotchner]

The Gambit (Hotch x Fem!Reader) -- part twenty-four

Oh btw remember when I said this fic would be 30ish chapters in total? Yeah fucking ignore me it's gonna be more than that

Warnings: just the dramaaaa! not loads of reader and Hotch interaction here (sorryyy!), Reid being Reid /affectionate

Hotch kicks himself the entire way to the jet, alternating between biting his fingernails and gripping the steering wheel so hard he hopes he doesn’t bend it.

Rossi keeps glancing at him from the passenger seat, eyebrows raised behind his sunglasses. “You okay?”

“Fine,” Hotch snaps, perhaps a little too harshly. “Just thinking.”

“About?”

“We’re on the way to look at another dead body connected to this unsub, what do you think I’m thinking about?”

“Ooh,” Prentiss teases from the backseat, trying to lighten the mood.

“Mom and Dad are arguing,” Morgan jokes quietly, but not quiet enough for those in the front to not hear.

Hotch glares at them both in the rearview.

He can’t say anything with everyone in the car— He’s not even certain he would want to talk to Rossi about this right now because he knows it would only earn him yet another lecture of some sort.

And he knows you’re angry with him again, he knew it the second you caught on to the fact that he didn’t ask you to join them. But he couldn’t ask you to come, not after seeing how scared you were just at Richard Monroe breaking out of prison. That all of this is unraveling and you can’t do anything to stop it. None of you can.

Now, one of their only leads is dead, brutally, from what the officer could bear to get out over the phone to Hotch. With a note in hand that tells them it’s the unsub doing this, toying with you all, now clearly onto you and where your heads are at in this investigation. And probably going after Richard Monroe, too. 

It’s the only thing that makes sense. He’s running for his life, and Hotch doesn’t know if they will find Richard before the unsub gets to him. They’re at the greatest disadvantage. Richard knows the unsub; he’s afraid of him. The BAU still has no idea who they’re looking for. 

All he can hope is that something at this crime scene will give them a clue. That maybe the unsub will give them something for once.

The jet and pilot are ready when the BAU reach the airstrip, the team filing on so they can get in the air as soon as possible. The flight will be short, but the drive would’ve taken too long.

They crowd around the table in the jet, discussing all that they know, which is minimal from the phone call. They talk in circles, their speculations, why the unsub is doing this, if the unsub is going after Richard Monroe now.

“It’s unsettling,” Rossi says.

“He wants us unsettled,” Hotch replies. 

“He’s doing a damn good job,” Prentiss exhales.

“Yeah, it’s pissing me off,” Morgan scoffs. “How he’s always five steps ahead of us. I mean, come on, how do we not even know who this guy is?”

“I don’t know,” Hotch says, just as exasperated. “But we have to be getting close.”

“Yeah, because he’s practically circling us,” Morgan knocks his knuckles on the table. “There’s gotta be something at this crime scene.”

“Let’s hope so,” Rossi says, leaning back to look out the window. “Otherwise we’re just playing right into his hand.”

Hotch knows that. You know that. It’s what you’re most afraid of, you made that clear to Hotch earlier, and he regrets it now, trying to comfort you, trying to tell you it isn’t true. Because what if it is? What if he’s just lied to you? What if this is all one elaborate trap that you’re all walking into, and there’s nothing to stop it?

All he knows is that if this is a trap that they’re about to walk into, he couldn’t have you walk into it with them. Just in case.

+++

“I just don’t understand why he didn’t want me to go with them,” you talk out loud, well aware of how…almost childish you sound.

JJ has gone off to answer the mountain of phone calls that are, for some reason, coming into the BAU after news of Richard Monroe’s escape got out. You, Garcia, and Reid hung back in the conference room to do more sleuthing, even though there isn’t much to go off of and until someone calls with what they’re seeing at the crime scene, you won’t really know what to look into next.

“Oh,” Pen frowns, putting her hand over yours. “It’s probably just…something to do with dividing and conquering, you know? He knew you’d be better here, helping us.”

You don’t buy it. Neither does Reid, apparently, from the look he’s giving the file in front of him.

You narrow your eyes at him. “What is it?”

He looks up at you, wide eyed like he’s been caught doing something he shouldn’t. “What? Nothing.”

You stare at him. 

“It’s nothing,” he repeats. “Garcia’s right, he’s just…dividing and conquering.”

“Reid.”

“It’s because he likes you!” Spencer blurts, smacking his hand over his mouth when Pen nearly swats him over the head with a file while shushing him. “Sorry!”

“We’re not in high school, Reid, it’s fine,” you laugh. “I appreciate the input, but I doubt it’s that. Anyway, what else do we have on this guy? Any…paper trails or anything? We’re grasping at straws here.”

Reid almost says something else, but he quiets when Garcia gives him a perfect death glare. Thankfully, they move swiftly past the topic of Hotch liking you.

The idea almost makes you laugh out loud. The two of you might be getting along more now, but that has nothing to do with either of you liking the other, least of all Hotch.

+++

When the team reaches the crime scene, there are far more police cars than necessary, and a news van as well.

Hotch rolls his eyes and Rossi sees it, holding up a hand. “I’ve got it. I’ll meet you guys inside.”

“Thanks,” Hotch says, nodding to Prentiss and Morgan to follow him into the house. 

They pause just at the front door to speak to the deputy that called Hotch, introducing themselves and explaining the situation. For once, the deputy cooperates without hesitation — probably because, from what Hotch can tell on his face, this is so far from anything the deputy has ever seen. They’re out of their depth here, and they know it.

“Stay out of their way and tell them anything they want to know, got it?” he calls out to his men and women who all nod in understanding.

Morgan shares a look with Prentiss before following Hotch inside.

Nothing was taken from William’s home, but that doesn’t shock anyone. It’s clear by now that the unsub’s only desire is to kill. Robbing the home means nothing. He’s more focused on making a point by who he kills, and leaving a note so the BAU is certain that it’s him doing it.

Even though they don’t have his name, he wants them to know that it’s him. It’s important that they know it’s all him.

Something about that makes Hotch’s footsteps falter. Why is the unsub so desperate for them to know? Or is he desperate for you specifically to know that it’s him? And if that’s the case, did he once know you? Was he a family friend that you don’t remember? From before everything spiraled with your dad, so you would’ve been too young to remember him.

It happens all the time. Hotch remembers it happening when he was young, remembers seeing it happen with his brother Sean. Family members and friends of the family who didn’t come around for years, suddenly reconnecting, and always seeming shocked that the children didn’t remember them. As if the children would, as if their brains would remember someone who disappeared for a long period. 

As if it isn’t unsettling for children to have someone who, to them, is a complete stranger, reappearing in their life and behaving as if they have a close bond.

He keeps walking, keeping the sudden realization to himself because there are no facts, really, to base it off of. It’s a hunch in every form of the word, but it makes sense. It makes everything else seem implausible.

William’s body is on his bed, a gunshot wound to the head. Under different circumstances, the unsub might’ve made this look more like a suicide. Instead, there’s no mistaking that he was shot here by someone else, likely while he was napping.

The note is still in his left hand.

Hotch looks around for one of the crime scene investigators, asking if they can bag the note for him so he can look more closely at it without tampering with it. 

When they hand him the bag, he studies the notecard. The handwriting is the same, no doubt. Gambit signed in neat letters. Hotch turns it over, his suspicions all confirmed.

Getting warmer is written in the clean script, but Hotch feels how sinister it is. Mocking them. The unsub is onto them, and wants them to know it, too.

“Have this sent to Quantico, please,” Hotch says, handing it off to the same investigator. “I’ll let them know to expect it.”

Prentiss and Morgan make their way in, having paused in the living area of the house to analyze William’s life. 

“Well, he might’ve been framed for that murder all those years back, but the guy was a creep,” Morgan says.

Hotch turns around with furrowed brows.

“The team is bagging many DVDs of child porn,” Prentiss rolls her eyes. “Disgusting.”

Hotch is no longer surprised by these things, though he does feel the anger rising, mixed with twisted relief that one less man like that is in the world.

“What did the note say this time?” Morgan asks.

“Gambit, I’m assuming?” Prentiss adds.

Hotch nods. “And something else, on the back. Getting warmer.”

Prentiss scoffs, “You’re kidding.”

“No,” Hotch says, “I wish I was. We need to look at everything in this room— everything. I don’t know if he would’ve left another clue, but we need to at least look.”

“I’ll search for a laptop, get Garcia on that, maybe there’s something hiding in his emails,” Morgan says. 

“Good, look for a phone too, we’ll need to see if he made any frequent calls in the past few days,” Hotch replies. “I’ll grab Dave and we’ll do a quick sweep of the rest of the house, but something tells me he’d keep things contained. He wants us to know it’s him, I don’t think he’s going to be strategic at this point with his clues.”

“He doesn’t want there to be any chance that we might miss it,” Prentiss nods. “Think obvious. Got it.”

Hotch leaves them to sort things, calling you on the way to finding Rossi.

He doesn’t know if it will help or hinder things by telling you about his gut feeling, but he can’t afford to let that worry stop him.

+++

A few seconds after Morgan calls Garcia, your phone lights up on the table in front of you. With Hotch’s name.

Morgan is on speaker to talk with Garcia and Reid, so you grab your phone to take the call out into the bullpen.

“Hello?” you answer, noticing Hotch left his office door cracked. You don’t think twice before stepping inside, pushing the door closed behind you. “Everything okay?”

“Sort of,” Hotch replies, and you do not like that answer, but you let him continue nonetheless. “There was a note on William’s body, it is our unsub.”

“Part of his gambit,” you mutter, pacing Hotch’s office. “Did it say anything else?”

“It did.”

Your pacing pauses. “Spit it out.”

“It said: getting warmer.”

Your eyebrows furrow as you process the words. “Getting warmer? As in getting warmer or colder, like this is a fucking game—”

“It’s all a game to him,” Hotch says.

“Well I know that.”

Both of you are silent for a moment. You sigh at the same time he does, shutting your eyes to rub your forehead. 

“Sorry,” you murmur. “It’s just—”

“You don’t need to apologize,” he says, sounding sincere, like all of the other times he has said that to you. “I have a gut feeling that I need to share with you. One that I don’t know if you’re going to like.”

“Hotch, I haven’t liked anything about this since day one, so don’t worry about that.”

He lets out a laugh. It makes you do the same.

“What is it?” you prompt him again, softer this time.

He hesitates. But he says it finally. “I think the unsub is someone you know — or someone who knew you when you were young. I think it could be the same person who kidnapped you—”

“But Hotch, I don’t remember—”

“I know,” Hotch interrupts you gently. “I think that’s the whole point. We’ve known this whole time that he wanted to get our attention, to get your attention, but I didn’t realize how desperate he is for it. He wants you to know that it’s him, he wants you to remember—”

“I can’t!” you cry, starting to pace again. “It was twenty years ago!”

“I know,” Hotch says again, not mocking you. He sounds as broken up about this as you feel. “I know. There’s no way that you will remember, but he doesn’t think rationally. If anything, he’s upset that we haven’t figured it out, that you haven’t remembered, because to him, he thinks he’s memorable.”

“Great,” you mutter. “So I might have this weirdo creep of a family friend who thinks I’ll remember him after he kidnapped me twenty years ago. That’s ridiculous. Do you hear how ridiculous that sounds?” You can’t help but laugh at the absurdness of it.

“I know,” Hotch says through a similar, almost hysterical laugh. “It’s just a gut feeling.”

“Come on,” you scoff. “With us, our gut feelings are usually right.”

“Yeah. They are,” he says.

You let the goodness of the moment hang for just a while. Despite Hotch’s gut feeling. Despite it adding another layer to this whole thing to make your stomach turn.

“Morgan and Prentiss are going through his room, but Dave and I are going to look around the rest of the house, see if he left any other clues.”

“Okay,” you murmur, surprised but glad at how much he’s keeping you in the loop. “Look in the bathroom,” you blurt, “in the medicine cabinet, I think.”

“Gut feeling?”

“Yeah,” you reply. “Probably nothing, but—”

“We’ll look,” he says. “How are things on your end?”

“Fine. Wishing I was there with you— I mean, there at the crime scene,” you nearly trip over your own feet as you trip over your words. “So I could— Get a better look at things, you know.”

Hotch is quiet for a long, tortuous moment. “I understand.”

You look up at the ceiling, wanting the floor to open up and swallow you whole. “I’m gonna get back to it, keep us updated.”

“You too,” he says, and you think you hear him smiling. Damn him.

+++

“We’ve turned the room upside down, there’s nothing,” Prentiss explains in the living room of the home. “Garcia has access to his laptop now, though, so she’s combing through everything. We couldn’t find a phone anywhere.”

“The unsub might’ve taken it,” Rossi muses. “But why?”

“William knew Richard,” Hotch says. “Richard is missing.”

“You think he’s going to trap him?” Morgan asks.

“Maybe,” Hotch says. “But we can safely assume he’s going after him, and we’re either going to get to him first or…”

“Or we’ll find the unsub when we find Richard’s body,” Rossi says. “He’s reaching the end of his rope. He wants us to find him now, he wants his name to be put to all of this.”

“He wants her,” Hotch adds, not needing to say your name for everyone to know who he means. “He wants her attention. He wants her to see him.”

“Well,” Morgan sighs. “He did say we’re getting warmer.”

[halfwayhearted]

Hii! Realy love your work!!!🫶🏻

Can you write for an fluff with pedri? the reader is a very independent person, as if she wouldn't ask anyone for help even if she was in a car accident 💀💀💀 and like pedri want help her in everything but she don't let him, she don't ask for help. But end of the day she's just grow up like this and she don't know how ask for help and she just start cry and maybe pedri comfort her???? It would be cute☹️

Yo Quisiera — Pedri González.

Pairing: Pedri González x Fem!Reader

Summary: Where all he wants is to be there for you.

Word Count: 850+

Disclaimer/s — Not much, slight angst (not really), + comfort!

A/N: HEY SO. Well, first of all, THANK YOU SO MUCH??? AND second of all, sickening, but I loved it, I hope you did too! ^_^ Listening to AOT openings and endings, wow just kill me now

It wasn’t your fault that you were unable to ask for help, nor was it his. Yet, for some strange reason, you still felt completely hopeless about it. He’d told you countless times that he’d always be there for you if you needed anything. Pedri was patient, so very patient, while you were left feeling… guilty.

And so here you were, standing outside his house with your hands fidgeting together. It’s been a horrible week, and all you need right now is him.

You don’t know how to do it, though. All your life, you’ve been told to just suck it up and that you can do it all by yourself—and they were right! You didn’t need anyone to do anything for you. Truly.

But now? Now, you’re not so sure.

Picking up the pieces came naturally to you. This feeling you’re feeling is temporary, right? You’re fine! Yeah, you’re totally fine. More than that even.

With that in mind, you let out a sigh and lift your fist, ready to knock when the door swings open.

Your eyes widen instantly; it’s almost comical.

Pedri offered a smile. “I knew you were here. Nilo was whining,” he tells you, holding out a hand, slowly grabbing your wrist, and pulling you inside.

“Sorry, I was just about to knock.” All he does is hum in response, placing a kiss on your temple and shutting the door. “So… how was practice?”

“Good-ish. It’s getting hotter.”

“Ish,” you echo with a laugh, nodding your head.

“How was work?”

Oh, sore subject unfortunately. “It was ish.” That was your way of joking through it, even with the swarming thoughts that kept clouding your mind.

Though he can tell something’s wrong. The way your smile wanes slightly when your laughter subsides. You’re like an open book to him, but he wouldn’t tell you that anytime soon. He tilts his head and utters your name. “Are you alright?”

Lifting your head, your eyebrows furrow. “Hm? Yeah, why wouldn’t I be? Just wanted to see you.”

Of course. Pedri should’ve been expecting that.

“Just wanted to see me,” your boyfriend repeats, taking a step towards you. “You can talk to me.”

When you don’t reply, he continues, “Let me in?”

Let me in, his words make you avert your gaze. It wasn’t that easy, was it? You don’t even know what to do. Well, you didn’t think you did, at least.

Apparently, the only response you can muster is letting your eyes well up with unshed tears. Fuck.

This really wasn’t what you wanted to do.

The sight of your glossy eyes is enough for him to cup your face. “Hold on. Hey, hey, what’s wrong?”

Your brain is short-circuiting. “I don’t know.”

“Talk to me, cariño,” he whispers. “I’m right here.”

Why would he say that.

That’s when you feel the tears start to trail down your cheeks, and you can’t stop them from falling. A small sob escapes your lips, and he immediately embraces you. One hand rests on your head, fingers running through your hair, while the other holds you close, chin resting on top of your head.

“People suck,” you finally manage to get out.

He already knows what that means—your job. You must’ve dealt with a ton of rude customers, complaints, and who knows what else. “…yeah?”

Yeah. You wrap your arms around him, nodding against him, not trusting your voice to sound completely steady. Tears still wetting his shirt.

After a couple more minutes, when Pedri notices your sniffles are becoming less frequent, he pulls back. His expression is so soft it almost makes you want to cry more, but you don’t. Yeah, don’t.

“Okay, take a shower, and when you come out, dinner will be ready, and we can watch whatever. Wind down. How does that sound?” He asked.

You nod. “Do I smell or something?”

“What? I never said that! It could be relaxing.”

“I’m messing with you,” a pause. “Thank you, Pedro. Really. Oh, and I’m sorry. For your shirt.”

The man looks down. “It’s okay. It’s just a shirt. Don’t worry about that. Plus, it’s proof you let me in,” he grins, doing his utmost to lift the mood.

Yeah, you guess it is.

Before you could, he raises his hands and wipes your eyes tenderly. The action makes you grasp his wrists, and you lean up to place a small, lingering kiss on the corner of his mouth, causing his smile to spread even wider. You feel better.

“I’ll be here when you’re done.”

Here. Both literally and figuratively. It’s enough to make your lips quirk up slightly. “You’ll be here,” you chirp, brushing past him. “I’ll be super quick.”

“That defeats the whole relaxing purpose.”

“What? I can’t hear you!” And with that, you hear his laugh and can’t help but smile—actually smile. You didn’t exactly ask for help, but you know that if you did—when you do, he’d be there for you.

And Pedri hopes that you realize just how deeply this moment will forever replay in his memories.

Likes, reblogs, and comments are always appreciated ^_^.

DT(s) — @pedriache + @spidybaby + @iovepoem + @ferrarifudds + @levidazai + @gadriezmannsgirl + @sakashq + @joaoflms ! ౨ৎ

[thatrandyalexfroma03]

Another Zach WIP - Bucktommy after 8x17

Look, I can get Eddie, I can but that fight was, not good.

And as someone who's dealt with it, not easy.

And look I don't think the show intended for that, but it leaves a lot to off screen. And the gaslighting instead of saying sorry. Anyway, here's what I've been working on. With all its errors and rough edges

After that, Buck needed to escape, plain and simple. 

He had apologised to Eddie, tried to not over react, take it personally, but he needed.

He needed Tommy. 

So here he was, at almost eleven pm knocking on the door of Tommy’s house like some god damn asshole and he really hoped that Tommy would be awake. 

Was he self centered? Was he doing exactly what he was accused of? 

After all, Tommy was home, peacefully relaxing and Buck was going to ruin it.

The door opened and Zach was standing there in just his boxers, and a very noticeable tent.

“Zach?”

“Suuuppppp Broooo, how’s it hanging.” and Zach goes to dap him up which is uncomfortable because Zach doesn’t seem to care that his half hard member is only barely contained by the the flimsy boxers or that it’s pressing against Buck’s leg. 

“What are you doing here?” Buck asked, mainly why Zach was here so late and undressed as well. Don’t get Buck wrong; rationally, he knew nothing would happen, right? But after tonight, how could he be sure? 

What if his best friend hated him and his boyfriend was cheating on him?

“Umm, dog I was like trying to catch some ‘Z’s’ but then you were all up knocking on the door, so, you know… you know?”

That’s not an actual answer, but before Buck can say anything or question anything, or do anything Zach twists backwards and yells out “T-Bone, you’re booty call is here.” and then he turns back to Buck with easy grin and light shrug, “Come in, come in, the door step is no place for Evan Buckley to be left.”

The words are accidentally triggering, and Buck kinda mumbles, “I always make it all about me.” slipping out before he has a chance to stop it, and hopefully Zach is too drunk, tired or zoned out to catch them. 

But of course, he hears it, because he flings himself around (and everything bounces, from his pecs to well, his cock in his boxers) and sort of just stares at Buck like he’s an idiot. “Uh, what the fuck dude, why wouldn’t you make it all about you? No one else is, well apart from Tommy of course, because he’s like…” Zach doesn’t finish the sentence, instead clasping his hands together and pumping them together in a gesture Buck would assume is a fucking one but it doesn’t fit the tone Zach was going for.

Then again, maybe it does. It’s Zach.

“Evan? Is everything okay?” 

There is Tommy, who is wearing a tee shirt and track pants and ignoring everything else going on tonight, Buck wishes that it was the other way around because he currently sees way too much of Zach and not enough of Tommy. 

But also, he’s not in the mood.

Tommy looks tired, either from just getting up (which makes Buck feel guilty) or from putting up with Zach, because Tommy then growls “Zach, for the love of, can you get dressed?”

Zach rolls his shoulders, “We’re all dudes here.” but he looses the war and throws on a white T-shirt that says in orange letters ‘I’m sorry your sad, you can touch my dick if you like.’ and Buck can’t. He just can’t. 

“If you two want to watch ‘Disney+ and thrust, ‘I can put my headphones in.” Zach offers, like it's a favour. “It’s like ‘Netflix and chill,’ but Disney has this show called ‘Hot Shots,’ which is kind of like our job.”

On the verge of a breakdown, Buck exhales deeply, willing calm thoughts, “I didn’t come for that.” and what is he, a middle age prude? But saying he didn’t come for sex just feels weird. 

“Then why are you knocking on Tommy’s door at 11 pm if you didn’t desperately desire dick?” 

Tommy clears his throat, “Zach, shut up.”

“I’m just saying.”

“No one asked.”

“Buck’s here at 11 pm, on a work night and you expect me to believe.”

Buck claps his hands together, not aggressively but enough to pause the stupid conversation, “Right, how about, you explain please.” Looking at Tommy, “Why Zach is here? In his boxers,”

Tommy shakes his head, but also chuckles and looks put upon, “Zach got kicked out of his apartment for being a dick.”

“Hey!” Zach protests loudly, very much offended, “Clearly not my fault.”

Tommy turned back to Buck, “What can I do for you Evan?” 

Buck wants to deflect back onto Zach, because suddenly he feels like maybe he is making everything about him, he’s interrupted Tommy’s night, Eddie is grieving the loss of Bobby, maybe he’s made a mistake seeking out comfort. 

Maybe he does make everything about him.

“Evan?” Tommy prompts again.

“Uh, Eddie is staying with me.” Buck says, and Tommy looks, well like he’s trying to keep his jealously in check, “And, uh, we had a….” He doesn’t want to call it a fight, “A difference of uh, opinion, about a few things and I just need some space.”

“Chicks.” Zach says in agreement, “They’ll fuck with your head.”

It earns a look from Buck and Tommy, “Eddie is a dude.” Tommy answers, “And maybe Chicks wouldn’t fuck with your head if you could act like an adult.”

“Sad, that’s sad bro.” Zach replies, “So this dude is crashing at yours, and you have to leave? Why didn’t you kick his sad ass out?” 

“He’s got no where to go, and it’s not like that, he’s just upset because Bobby died…”

Zach frowns, looking over to Tommy, “Like, am I wrong or isn’t everyone at the 118 upset Bobby died?”

Tommy makes a ‘cut it out’ gesture to Zach, before walking up to Buck and wrapping him up in a hug and it’s stupid how good it feels, how safe he feels in Tommy’s arms. 

“I’ve just been trying so hard to be there for everyone.” Buck says into Tommy’s neck, “And to watch out for them, like I promised Bobby and he called me selfish and too fragile to handle the news he’s got a job in El Paso.”

Tommy rubs his back, in a soothing pattern, “You’re not selfish Buck, you’re like the most selfless person I know. A lil reckless sometimes, a lil impulsive but you have a heart of gold.”

So Buck lets Tommy lead him into the kitchen, where Tommy puts on some coffee and Buck tries to tell both sides of the story. He doesn’t want to paint Eddie as a villain, after everything Eddie has suffered and been through, the guilt of not being there, he’s just getting to the bit where Eddie grabbed his shoulder and flung his finger in Buck’s face when bloody Zach arrives in the kitchen.

“Yo, yo, yo, I have the solution”, and in his hands is a plastic bag that smells good, Zach grinning widely “Kebabs baby! These are shit.”

Tommy sighs, before looking at Buck with a serious look, grabbing his hand “Do not eat the kebabs.” How the Kebab shop is still open is beyond Tommy; the visible health code violations make him worry about what he can’t see. 

But, despite the warning Zach shoves one in front of Buck and Buck takes a messy bite before looking up at Tommy, mouth ful of Kebab and soft blue eyes “These are pretty good?”

“Told ya, better than sex.” Zach says around a mouthful of Kebab, and Tommy wants to make a dig, oh how he wants to make a dig but instead his concern is about Buck.

“Did you say Eddie grabbed you?”

Buck mumbles something, taking another bite of the Kebab as Zach naturally gets involved.

“Wait, so this dude is your bestie, crashing at your house and he laid hands on you. Oh no brother, Tommy go defend your man.”

Buck puts the kebab down, frustrated and tired, and mentally exhausted. “Look, I provoked him, he’s going through a lot…”

“So are you.” Tommy points out, before looking over at Zach, “Can you give us space.”

“I’m out boys, but honestly, if you don’t deck this Eddie dude, I’m mad disappointed in ya, T-Bone.”

Tommy couldn’t hide the eye roll if he tried, “Let’s be clear, I’m not doing anything Evan doesn’t want me to do, because Evan is an adult and he is allowed to vent, and you can fuck off, please and thank you.”

[witchygagirlwrites]

Hold On- Pt 1/2

Kelly Severide x Reader

When Kelly hears about a threat at med he doesn't think he's gonna end up facing losing even more than the love of his life

Warnings: Gun violence, death of a child, shooting of a pregnant female

“Kelly!” you all but giggled his name out, he had you down on the bed and was teasing every spot he knew would pull a reaction out of you with his lips and tongue. He’d worked his way down your neck and was now kissing across your collarbone. “What baby? You really want me to stop?” he teased, blue eyes moving up to meet yours. You felt your face warm under the intensity of his gaze. God you loved this man. “Not really, I mean I’d much rather keep you in bed then send you off to walk into fires”

He smiled and pressed a kiss onto your chest “Love, you know I’m going to always find my way back to you if there is any way possible” you ran your nails through his short hair, teasing the grey locks and smiling when he nuzzled further into your touch “I know Kel, doesn’t help me feelings any about the love of my life being in danger every damn time he goes to work” 

“Well you know if something does happen and they can get me to Gaffney, Rhodes will do everything in his power to bring me back to you” he teased and you shoved playfully at his head “Do not use Connor to tease me!”  He laughed and moved up the bed, turning to lay on his back and pulled you towards him so you didn’t have a choice but to straddle his waist.

You crossed your arms and he grinned, gently unfolding them and taking your left hand in both of his. He ran a finger over your engagement ring “I promise you. I will dig my way out of hell itself if need be to be able to become your husband” you shook your head “I wish you wouldn’t take how dangerous your job is so lightly Kelly. I love you, I respect your job but you need to respect that it is a little nerve wracking” he nodded, “I know baby. That’s why I call you so much during the day, just to calm your nerves. I love you”

You leaned down to press your lips against his “I love you too Kelly” he grinned against your lips “We have enough time” you laughed and braced your hands against his chest, enjoying how the smooth muscles moved under your palms “Then don’t waste the damn time” he pulled you down to him and flipped both of you over “Yes ma’am”

You stared at the little plastic test in front of you. The two pink lines felt like they were staring back. You were pregnant, at least a few weeks from how damn dark those lines were. This wasn’t a faint positive by any means.

You took a deep breath, a smile working its way onto your face. Your wedding was in a couple weeks, maybe you wouldn’t have to get many more alterations done to your dress? At least you knew you hadn’t just randomly gained weight now, right?

A laugh escaped you at your own dumb little joke. You snapped a photo of the test so you could show Kelly tonight then wrapped it in a paper towel and threw it away before washing your hands and heading back out onto the floor. You had to hide your excitement or you’d give yourself away the moment Maggie or Connor saw you. They’d know some form of good news had come your way.

You were pregnant. You and Kelly were going to be parents. You couldn’t wait to tell him. “Soon to be Severide” you turned at the sound of Connor’s voice, a grin slipping onto your face “Hey Con” he smiled “You’re with me today, I got a couple pediatric surgeries so who better than my favorite peds nurse”

“Such a suck up” you laughed and he grinned “Gotta make sure no one knocks me out of place as your best friend” you shook your head “Never” and fell in step with him as he handed you the tablet that had the first patient’s chart pulled up.

‘So, big day’s getting here quick man” Matt told Kelly, sitting down next to him in the bays. Kelly nodded “Couple weeks, I can’t wait” Matt laughed “I never thought I’d see the day that you of all people would be downright excited to get married”

A broad grin slipped onto Kelly’s face as he shrugged “I guess it really does just come down to finding the right person. I couldn’t imagine my life without her now Matt” “I’m happy for you both and I’m honored I get to stand up there with you” Matt told him, patting his knee.

For it to still be early in the day the firehouse had been fairly busy so they were enjoying a little bit of downtime while lunch was getting cooked. “Where’s Gabby?” Kelly asked and Matt waved towards the door “Her and Sylvie are in there watching Cruz cook”

He nodded, pulling his phone out to send you a text. Just checkin in. I love you a few seconds later the bubbles that you were replying popped up then the reply came through I love you too

He smiled and Matt laughed “You’re adorable Kelly, really” and he threw his hat at Matt “Man, shut up” Matt grabbed the hat and tossed it back “I’m just teasing. It’s good to see. It is”

___________________

Kelly was running drills with squad when Boden walked to the door leading out into the bays. “Kelly” he looked up and the moment he spotted his chief he felt his stomach drop. Something was wrong. He didn’t know what. He didn’t know how bad, but he knew something was wrong.

“What is it?” he asked and Boden looked like he was bracing himself “There’s an emergency at med, there’s been a lockdown” he didn’t hear anything else Boden said because he was already running to his mustang.

You stood next to the bed in the hybrid OR, staring down the man that was threatening both you and Connor. He had brought his son in with a ruptured appendix but from what Connor could guess, the appendix had ruptured the day before. You didn’t even know how the hell the kid was still alive to this point.  “Save him” he ordered and Connor nodded “I’ll do everything I can but you need to surrender to the police” the man currently had a gun in his hand.

He shook his head and raised the gun towards you “Save my son or I kill your nurse” you swallowed hard, your thoughts immediately going to the baby  “Please, I just found out I’m pregnant this morning. I haven’t even told my fiance” “What?” Connor asked, the look in his eyes had gone from worried to downright terror now that he knew it wasn’t just your life at risk but your baby’s too.

“Then he better do his job” the man spoke. Connor nodded “I will, let her go. Hold the gun on me. Something besides having the gun on a pregnant woman” “Connor you can’t operate alone” you reminded him, swallowing hard from where you stood across the table. You slowly met Connor’s eyes “Just concentrate. I’m ok” 

____________________

Kelly threw his car into park and ran towards the entrance of the ED despite the fact that there was police tape everywhere. “Severide!” he heard several voices calling his name. It was both Halsteads and Voight. “She’s in there” he barely got the words out. Voight nodded “We’re getting tapped into the security cams to get some sort of idea what we’re dealing with so we can form a plan. Come on”

He fell in with the older man and followed him. He walked over to where Burgess had a laptop set up on the hood of her suv. The screen went black then the footage of the ED, namely the hybrid OR came onto the screen. His heart stopped when he saw a man point a gun at you. His heart crumbled when your next words were  “Please, I just found out I’m pregnant this morning. I haven’t even told my fiance” he felt his knees go out from under him and he would have hit the concrete had Jay and Will not lurched forward and caught him. 

“She’s pregnant?” he whispered more to himself than anyone. Voight nodded to Jay “We’re taking control of this scene, fuck SWAT. We have our people at risk”  “I’ll get ready to breach” he nodded then looked at Kelly “We’re gonna do everything we can to get her out safe Kelly” “Please Hank” he pleaded, eyes glued to the screen.

_____________________

You handed Connor another tool, feeling your stomach drop with every bloody gauze. There was no saving this kid. The appendix rupturing was bad enough then he’d sat for over twenty four hours? His blood had gone septic. At this point Connor was just trying to keep his heart beating long enough in hopes that whatever cops were outside could figure this out.

You knew this, you just hoped his father just didn’t figure it out. “His B.P. is dropping” Connor spoke low to you and you nodded. You didn’t have what you needed to keep it up in the OR. If he flatlined….You were fucked. 

He was purposely staying between you and Connor too. There was no way out of this without the cops getting in before this kid flatlined and unless they made it within the next two minutes. You looked up into Connor’s eyes, feeling tears forming in yours and whispered “If something happens look out for Kelly, promise me” “Nothing is going to..” you cut him off “PROMISE ME” he nodded, tears in his eyes “I promise” 

The man was getting twitchy, he was either due for another hit or catching on. You could feel your hands start to shake slightly. You were engaged to the love of your life, pregnant with his baby and now facing being killed.

“Why isn’t his blood pressure coming up?” he asked and Connor didn’t look up “That’s normal” you nodded, “It is” he kept fidgeting, moving to shove the gun into your side “It better be because the little pregnant nurse probably wants to make it home to her fiance”

You stiffened and Connor glared at him “Come shove that thing in my side. I’m the surgeon, not her” “Yeah but she’s the one with a kid. She’s the one who deserves to die if my son does” you felt tears slip down your face.

___________________

Kelly watched the laptop, frozen to the spot. He knew Voight’s team was moving in. Connor was doing everything he could to keep this son of a bitch’s attention off of you but he could see just how fucking scared you were. He could see your lips moving and knew you were whispering something to Connor.

The next few moments seemed like they happened too slow and too fast all at the same time. He could see Jay come into view just in the corner of the screen. The man moved to look out of the OR, the kid flatlined and he saw the barrel of the man’s gun flash right before you hit the ground.

He turned and ran into the ED, shoving only god knows how many people out of the way. He ran past the body of the man and hit his knees at your side. “Baby?” he whispered and you rolled your head to the side to look at him, eyes full of pained tears as Connor snatched stuff down to hold pressure and screamed for help “I’m sorry Kelly” “It’s ok love, just stay awake” he tried but your eyes fluttered shut, the blood seeping through Connor’s hands as the medical team flooded into the room. They got you onto a gurney and wheeled you towards the elevator “We need to get her to an OR now and get ASHER!” 

He heard Connor giving orders but he couldn’t move. The love of his life and his baby. Was he going to lose you both?

Part 2

[ducksido]

Vil’s Birthday Celebration

Vil Schoenheit wasn’t a fan of the chaotic celebrations that came with birthdays. As a perfectionist and the model student, he preferred an air of elegance, poise, and sophistication—qualities that matched his refined taste. When it came to his own special day, Vil didn’t want extravagant surprises or a room full of wild celebrations. He wanted something tasteful, something with the right balance of charm and subtlety.

That’s where you came in.

After carefully observing Vil’s likes and preferences over the months, you had crafted the perfect surprise—one that would speak to his sense of style without overwhelming him. No large party, no elaborate spectacle. Just a simple, intimate celebration with the people who meant the most to him.

The evening of his birthday arrived, and you led him to a secluded area within the Pomefiore garden, where you had set up a table surrounded by soft lighting. The scene was beautiful in its simplicity: delicate white and lavender flowers, a fine dinner set up with a few of Vil’s favorite dishes—delicacies from the best restaurants, light and fresh, and a modest but incredibly elegant birthday cake, adorned with intricate designs and topped with a single, perfect rose.

Vil’s eyes widened as he took in the scene, his usual composed self slightly slipping. “Yuu... is this...?” His voice trailed off, momentarily overwhelmed.

You smiled softly, stepping forward. “Happy birthday, Vil. I wanted to give you something special—just the way you like it.”

He blinked, his lips curving into a smile, though it was still somewhat reserved. “This... this is... truly exceptional,” Vil said, his tone warm but still dignified. “I must admit, I didn’t expect such a tasteful affair.”

You chuckled lightly, a bit relieved at his reaction. “I know you appreciate subtlety. I thought you might prefer a quiet, private celebration.”

Vil let out a soft sigh of admiration. “You know me so well,” he said, walking over to the table with graceful steps. “I would’ve never wanted something noisy or over-the-top.”

You gestured for him to sit, and as he did, you handed him a carefully wrapped gift—a box of his favorite skincare products, all of the highest quality, each one thoughtfully chosen for his routine.

His eyes lit up as he unwrapped it, a small gasp escaping his lips. “You remembered this?” he asked, his voice tinged with surprise. “This is exactly what I needed. I didn’t think anyone would notice.”

“Of course, I did,” you replied with a warm smile. “I know how much you care about your routine. You deserve only the best.”

Vil set the gift down carefully before turning to you, his expression softening. “Yuu, you always surprise me. You understand me better than anyone else.”

There was a rare tenderness in his gaze, the perfectionist mask falling just a little to reveal how deeply he valued the thoughtfulness behind your gift. You could see how much it meant to him that you had paid attention to what he loved and carefully crafted something that was truly for him.

“Thank you,” he whispered, his voice a little softer than usual. “This is... exactly what I wanted.”

You both spent the evening savoring the meal, talking about everything from fashion to the future. The night was filled with quiet laughter, soft music, and the perfect balance of conversation and comfort. There were no grand speeches or excessive toasts—just the two of you, sharing a peaceful, perfect evening together.

As the night drew to a close, Vil stood up and took your hands in his, giving you a small, sincere smile. “Thank you, Yuu. You’ve made this birthday one I’ll never forget. I’ll make sure you know how much I appreciate this... in my own way.”

And you knew that, in his own Vil way, he meant it. His thanks weren’t grandiose or filled with flowery words—they were genuine, heartfelt, and given in the way only Vil could manage. You had created the perfect birthday for him, and it was clear that your efforts had made a lasting impression on the impeccably polished Vil Schoenheit.

[sharksfrommars]

For the Reverse Portal/Asylum Ford AU?

How does Ford feel about after everything? I mean… one his worst nightmares came true. He’s not a super scientist extraordinaire, he’s now known as just the “satanic freak with six fingers.” Whose name they don’t know.

I feel like when he gets lucid enough and Stanley comes back… I feel like he’d not really be all that forgiving to Him… he still hold a grudge about that project being broken 😡 and how it was the catalyst for everything wrong in his life, case and point. Going to a shitty school like Backupsmore, him meeting Bill, him getting nearly executed and sent to an Asylum for 30 years. All leads back to Stanley’s “sabotage”.

He’d also be very resentful of Stanley for he turned out. As when you think, Stanley got to live out his childhood Fantasies and Dream of being an amazing Adventurer and hunting and tearing monsters to shreds, all while Ford’s dreams were completely and utterly crushed by Stanley. And that realization makes ford angry.

I like to imagine that the part where the Zodiac Sigil happens, it isn’t Ford who draws it, it’s instead Stanley who makes it. And instead of that whole grammar dialogue that cause the two to fight. It was something akin to Ford bitterly saying how Lee thinks of himself a heroic knight and shining armor. And Stanley remarks, well, I did get knighted in several medieval level dimensions and plane… that was the boiling point for Ford. He pounces and throttles Stanley for bragging in a Crisis Situation.

What do you think?

Mate. Anon. You are a genius.

Ford’s been kind of off-kilter since coming to gravity falls. No one really remembers his case back in peidmont. He struggled to get along with people during the best of times, and spending half your life in a mental institute certainly didn’t help matters.

But in Gravity Falls, it was somehow worse. the people didn’t recognise him, didn’t remember his name. But they didn’t trust him, especially the older members of the community. Something in their brains told them that Ford couldn’t be trusted. The only people to remember Ford was the librarian, and Tate McGucket. Neither of them were fans. But The town remembered what he had done. He left a scar on the town, his case having given gravity falls a bad reputation. They whispered about the satanic worshiping scientist who kidnapped and ate people. That was his legacy, it was something he could never escape from.

Ford’s dreams of being a world renowned scientist died when he was 30.

Part of him blamed Stanley. If it wasn’t for the science fair, if Stan didn’t act selfishly that day, would he have ever met Bill? His therapist told him not to focus on “what ifs”, but how could Ford not? He had multiple PhD’s at 30, was well respected in his field. He basically got a blank check to study anything he wanted! He should have been set for life. Stan would never have fallen for Bill’s ploy. If Stan had never left, then They would have had everything.

Ford missed his brother. He needed him, more than ever. Ford still kept that photo in his pocket, held it close whenever he needed that comfort.

Stan apparently didn’t need Ford though. Maybe he never did.

Stan came out of the portal full of bravado. He spun epic tales of his adventures in the multiverse, of all the friends he made and things he stole. The Niblings were enraptured. Actually, the whole town was. Even with Ford having been proven innocent, they didn’t like him. But they LOVED Stan.

Hearing about Stan’s adventures left Ford feeling hollow. It was everything they wanted, right? Adventure in uncharted lands, finding treasure and fighting monsters. It was the life they’d dreamed about when they were kids. And Stan was living it. Without him. Whilst Ford was rotting in an asylum, Stan was becoming a badass sci-fi hero. A lovable rogue. Like Ford but better.

and hadn’t it always been that way? Stan was the strong one, the one who could understand people. He let awkwardness run off his back like it was nothing. He could talk to girls, make jokes that land. He had a normal number of fingers.

Stan was bragging, he wasn’t even trying to hide it. He said he “deserved to feel proud after living through hell”. Ford didn’t think Stan knew just how hellish things could get. What was worse was that everyone else seemed to hang off his every word. With most people, Ford didn’t mind. But Dipper and Mabel were obsessed with their cool new Grunkle. Especially since Ford still felt lingering betrayal from Dipper and the portal. He didn’t hold it against him, but it hurt none the less.

Ford had half expected that bringing Stan back would fix everything. But it didn’t. They didn’t know how to interact. It was like being 16 again, struggling between the love and frustration that lingered between them. Except this time Stan was the one leaving Ford behind.

——

I love your idea about the zodiac. That feels super in character tbh. I changed the consept slightly to fit better, at least I think it does.

[wayiiseetheworld]

Achilles

Summary: Based off this verse, “Achilles, Achilles, Achilles, come down. Won't you get up off, get up off the roof?” Jack's wife dies in the Pitt, the aftermath is on the roof.

Warnings: Talks about depression, suicide intentions, male friendship, pre-relationship.

Word Count: 1,286

Author Note: I am obsessed with Jack Abbot, Michael Robinavitch and The Pitt. Slowly going to post my stories from A03 on here. || Not my gif.

“Achilles, Achilles, Achilles, come down

Won't you get up off, get up off the roof?”

Robby navigated the unusual stillness of the emergency room, making his way up the stairwell to the hospital rooftop.

When he pushed through the door from the stairwell to the rooftop, the cool evening air brushed against his skin, refreshing yet carrying an air of urgency. Just ten minutes prior, Adamson had called him, abruptly interrupting his evening of cooking a frozen pizza and insisting that he needed to come immediately. The tone in Adamson's voice left no room for doubt; he told him the short story of what happened, and that Jack needed him.

As he stepped onto the rooftop, Robby quickly spotted Jack—not in his usual spot against the metal safety bars, but instead standing at the edge. Robby wondered for a moment if Jack was really thinking about going over. Robby’s gaze briefly swept over the sprawling city of Pittsburgh before shifting back to Jack. He took a step to the left, positioning himself to better see Jack's face, a subtle gesture meant to remind Jack that he was not alone.

The skyline glimmered softly in the moonlight, yet Jack’s expression was hidden in shadow, tears streaking down his cheeks. Jack didn’t turn towards Robby; he remained focused on the city. “Why are you here?” he asked, his voice thick with emotion, heavy with sorrow.

“Jack,” Robby called, concerned, threading through his voice as he approached. “Adamson called me, told me about what happened to Thea. What are you doing up here?” Robby debates about taking a step closer, but he’s unsure.

A broken laugh escaped Jack's lips, a harsh sound filled with disbelief. “She’s dead,” he said flatly, the weight of those words heavy in the air between them. 

For a moment, silence enveloped them as Robby took in the profound pain etched across Jack’s face. He understood that no words could truly ease the anguish that burdened his friend. Robby could empathize with Jack’s desperation and the darkness that surrounded him. He knows Jack has dealt with so much loss in his life, he can see why this would send him over the edge though. Robby doesn’t blame him.

“Jack,” he said gently, “I can’t begin to fathom what you’re going through right now. But you don’t have to face this alone—you’re not alone in this.”

Jack finally turned to face him, his eyes shimmering with unshed tears. Robby’s heart shattered at the sight, a heavy weight settling in his stomach as he observed Jack teetering on the brink. “You don’t understand,” Jack said, his voice shaking. “She was right there. They brought her in through the ambulance bay, I didn’t even know until I walked in the trauma bay and then Adamson started yelling at me to back off, to get out of the room. She was calling for me, crying for me, Robby. It all happened so fast.”

Robby took a cautious step closer, narrowing the gap between them. He felt an urgent instinct urging him to pull Jack back from the edge, a primal fear gripping him that Jack might take that irreversible step. The thought sent a shiver through him, igniting a desperate need to listen to what his brain is telling him to do.

“My whole world, just gone,” Jack choked out, a deep sob escaping his lips. “My entire life has changed. I don’t know how to cope with this, I don’t kno—” His voice faltered as his body shook more violently. He raised his hands to his face, and the tears poured down.

Robby almost hesitated, but he knew he couldn’t let Jack remain on the edge any longer. He stepped forward, grasping Jack’s hoodie firmly with both hands and pulling him back from the precipice, guiding him safely onto the rooftop. Once there, he enveloped Jack in his arms, feeling his knees give way as he supported him. “I may not fully understand what you’re going through,” Robby said softly, he was whispering near Jack’s ear, “but I know how much Thea meant to you, and how deeply you love her. This loss… it’s beyond unimaginable. You have every right to feel this…”

Jack pressed his face against Robby’s chest, the sobs wracking his body as words poured out uncontrollably. “I keep thinking that if I had been in the room… maybe if I had just been there, I could have saved her.” The confession spilled forth in a frantic rush, raw and unfiltered, laying bare the guilt that gnawed at him.

Robby wrapped his arms around Jack, providing a steady support as a wave of emotions washed over him. He could sense the tension coursing through Jack’s body, the slight tremors that betrayed his anguish. “You can’t hold yourself responsible for what happened, Jack,” he said softly. “None of this was within anyone’s control. Adamson assured me he did everything possible given her injuries…”

Jack shook his head, his voice muffled against Robby’s shirt as he interrupted. “But I should have been there. I should have fought harder to stay. I should have been screaming to be let in…” Each word escaped him in gasps, heavy with regret.

Robby leaned back slightly, just enough to lock eyes with Jack, gently placing his hands on either side of Jack's face to ensure he was focused on him. “What happened was out of your hands; a drunk driver crashed into her. It was a senseless accident,” Robby said, his voice trembling with emotion.

“Robb…” Jack sobbed, his voice thick with despair.

Robby continued, refusing to pull away or break the connection. “I know it feels like the weight of the world is crashing down on you right now, but you can’t keep all that pain bottled up inside. You need to let it out; otherwise, it will only eat away at you.”

Jack met Robby’s gaze, a mix of desperation and vulnerability reflected in his eyes before he slowly nodded in agreement. “I just wanted to protect her,” he admitted, a small cry escaping his lips. “I failed her.”

“You didn’t fail her,” Robby said, his tone strong but compassionate. “She knew how much you loved her. That love doesn’t disappear just because she’s no longer here. She wouldn’t want you to be consumed by guilt.”

Jack's sobs slowly calmed, though he continued to shake against Robby. “I can’t go home, Robby. I don’t know where to turn…,” he said, his voice trembling and barely above a whisper.

Robby squeezed Jack's shoulders, anchoring him to the present. “You do have a place to go,” he said firmly. “I have an extra bedroom in my new condo.” Robby had just moved in a week ago, and Jack hadn't had a chance to see it yet. “There’s even a bed already in there. The bathroom connected to it isn't huge, but it's all yours for as long as you need it. My home is your home.”

Taking a deep breath, Jack nodded, though a flicker of uncertainty still lingered in his eyes. “Okay,” he echoed, the word floating between them like a delicate promise that Jack wasn’t going anywhere just yet. “I just don’t want to be alone right now, Robby.”

“You won’t be alone, Jack,” Robby assured him, his voice steady and reassuring. “No matter how bleak things seem, I’ll be here every step of the way. We’re best friends, right? Whatever you need, I’ll be by your side.”

Jack replied softly, “Yes.”

“Alright then, let’s head down from the roof. We can figure everything else out once we’re back inside,” Robby suggested. Jack nodded, allowing Robby to guide him away from the edge and off the rooftop.

[lovelyjj]

Bullied

jj maybank x reader

requested

Going to school was your least favorite activity. It was truly terrible. Everyone seemed to gang up on you. There was no escaping it. Every corner you turned was another bully. There was no way out. It was harsh. The words they used the way they made you feel it was almost unbearable.

JJ had no idea you were getting bullied. You didn’t want to tell him because you didn’t want him to feel sorry for you. You also didn’t want to come across as weak. But JJ was your life line. He was your guardian angel. He was the love of your life and deep down you knew if he knew you were getting bullied he would not tolerate that.

Today was a day like any other. You were weighed down by all the mean comments you received. You wanted to disappear.

“Hey look it’s the ugly duckling!” One girl announced.

You kept your head down and continued walking doing your best to ignore it. There was a group of girls that seemed to love picking on you.

“I’d die if I looked like her” you hear them whisper.

The bullying continued. It just kept getting worse. You didn’t know what to do because it was starting to get to you.

The next day they made the mistake of saying something in front of JJ.

“She’s so annoying how can you stand her?”

“What the fuck did you say?”

“Oh I said-“

“No let me stop you right there. You are NOT gonna bully my girl right in front of me. The fuck is wrong with you. Come near her again and I’ll kill you.”

“JJ it’s fine come on let’s just go,” you tugged on his arm.

“No it’s not fine. How dare they! How long have they been doing this?”

“A while.”

“Oh hell no. And why didn’t you tell me?” JJ asked.

“I didn’t want to burden you with my problems.”

“Baby, I love you so much and it pains me so deeply that you’ve been going through this alone. You could never burden me, ever.”

“I’m sorry.”

“No apology necessary.”

JJ kissed your forehead and then took your hand and guided you out away from everyone. JJ felt terrible that you had to go through this alone. He was gonna do everything in his power to make you feel better. JJ being JJ he wanted to fight. But since it was mostly girls bullying you he couldn’t.

The two of you went back to your house. JJ was as kind and caring as possible. You laid down on your bed and JJ laid next to you. JJ started stroking and playing with your hair. “Ya know I wish you would have told me sooner. I could have done something, I could have helped.”

“I didn’t want to you to feel sorry for me.” JJ took one of your hands and interlaced it with his own.

“Baby, I’m here for you, always. I will always be there for you no matter what, okay?” JJ reassured you.

“Okay,” you whispered.

“I’m here to protect you my love,” JJ hummed.

“You’re the best I don’t deserve you,” you spoke softly.

“Yes you do, don’t say stuff like that,” JJ scolded.

“But you shouldn’t have to worry about my problems,” you countered.

“Your problems are my problems. Your happiness is my happiness. I love you and when you’re sad I’m sad. I’m in this for the long haul. We can work together as a team at anything life throws at us.”

You didn’t respond you just pressed your lips to his in a delicate kiss. Thanking him for being so sweet. A single tear slid down your cheek and JJ felt it because his hand reached up to cup your face.

JJ immediately responded to the kiss, kissing you back with deep passion. He broke the kiss to whisper “Don’t cry angel.”

JJ rested his forehead against yours and you closed your eyes savoring the feeling. You just felt so overwhelmed with love from JJ and you were so grateful for him you got emotional. JJ wiped your tears and eventually you fell asleep.

The next time you were at school JJ didn’t take his eyes off you. He stayed right next to you at all times with your hands interlaced.

The mean girls saw this and rolled their eyes. “You are not nearly important enough to have a bodyguard,” one of the girls said scrunching her nose.

“She’s so not important or pretty. She’s a waste of space,” another girl said.

JJ guided you behind him. “You’re gonna leave my girlfriend the fuck alone, or you will regret it I swear to god.” JJ was fuming. He couldn’t believe people would say such horrible things about his favorite person.

“Seriously if you don’t knock it off I will make your life a living hell.” JJ went up to the group of girls and got in their face.

“You’d be surprised what i’m capable of when it comes down to the people I love. Do not even breathe her same air.”

The girls that bullied you finally got the message. After JJ talked to them they left you alone. You couldn’t have been more happy about it. JJ was happy as well.

It felt like you could finally breathe again. School was actually bearable. You couldn’t thank JJ enough. He was your whole world and you couldn’t imagine your life without him.

A few weeks later you were at the château hanging out around the fire. You were in JJ’s lap and he had his arms around your waist. You were enjoying your time with him and the other pogues. Life was good.

“I’m so in love with you,” JJ whispered in your ear making you shiver.

“Thank you for saving me, I love you.” And you and JJ continued your life together as happy as can be.

[m4ple9x0x]

Sᵒᵘʳ Cʰᵉʳʳʸ

-Chapter III-

Hyunin x fem!reader

WARNINGS: SMUT MDNI !! a lot of swearing, toxic behavior, a bit of violence, lmk if I forgot anything.

Genre: strangers to friends to lovers, smut, stalker!Hyunjin, yandere!Hyunjin, slow burn.

a/n: this chapter is a longer one, i hope y'all will enjoy it! if u guyz have any feedback or opinions lmk, im open to it n also to some constructive criticism, also if u wanna get added to the taglist lmk!! <3 maple out~

dividers by: @cafekitsune <3

Previous chapter

-It's-

Suddenly you hear something… it was… your alarm?

-Fuck… it was a dream? *Why is my alarm such a cock block...* That felt so real… You look around the room and you realize you fell asleep on the couch and the empty plate from yesterday was broken on the floor.

-Amazing… it must’ve fallen while I was sleeping. You start picking up the broken pieces and throw them away.

-Jesus… what was all that about… I’m soaked… You say looking down at your night gown that was clinging to your body because of the sweat. You go to look in the mirror, your cheeks are clearly flushed in a deep shade of red. It’s like you’re having a temperature.

*I should go shower and eat something… in 2 hours I have to go to the job interview*

After the interview you were craving a coffee since you weren’t able to drink one at home so you started looking for a coffee shop. You look at your phone and see some texts from Stacey.

stace💋: Heyy, lmk how it went!! 11:02

stace💋 : u done? 11:30

you: heii, ye omw to grab a coffee, everything seemed okay. 11:55

you: they told me that they are gonna call me in a few days with their response. 11:55

You closed your phone and decided to go to a coffee place named “The Sour Cherry” that was right around the corner, they have really decent coffee at low prices too, at least that’s what the reviews said.

You order a caramel macchiato, and you sit down as you wait for your coffee. You open your phone to stay on tiktok while waiting, as you scroll you hear the sound of the door opening, meaning that someone has entered, you move your gaze from the phone to the door, and there he was. *Unbelievable…*

He goes up to the barista and places his order, then he turns his head in your direction. *Fuck* you try to make yourself smaller and start scrolling through your phone again in hopes he didn’t notice you.

But all in vain, he walks up to you.

-Y/N? Is that you? You look up at the man in front of your table, he was smiling at you in a disgusting way. You felt like throwing up.

-What are you doing here Josh?

-It’s a public place isn’t it? Am I not allowed to get a coffee or what?

-Listen… I don’t really care can you please go to another table?

-I think it would be nice to catch up, don’t you think so? I tried calling you and sending you texts but they just wouldn’t reach you.

-Yea, because I blocked you everywhere. After you cheated on me and slapped me? No, I don’t think so.

-Americano and caramel macchiato? You look at the barista and stand up thinking that this was the perfect opportunity to escape from this situation.

-Did you get a macchiato? Josh asks.

-Yes.

-Stay here, imma get it.

-There’s no need for tha- You start saying but he was already on his way. *Great now I have no escape*

Josh returns and puts the two cups of coffee on the table as he sits down in front of you.

-Can you please go away? I’m already starting to get annoyed.

-Please...hear me out, I changed and I am sure that you can give me another chance.

-No, no fucking way Joshua.

-Listen, I know I made a huge mistake, but I’m human too, everyone makes mistakes every now and then, that’s why we live, to make mistakes and learn something out of them, but I promise you if we get back together I won’t cheat on you or hit you ever again. He stares at you with a desperate look on his face, but not the hot type of desperate… the disgusting male manipulator one.

*Is this guy for real?! He thinks I’m gonna get him back?*

-Should’ve thought about not hurting me before fucking that other girl, don’t you think?

-Oh c’mon, you’re a bad person only once and then everyone holds it over your head. Jesus grow up Y/N, every guy does this, you really think you’re gonna find someone better than me?

-I don’t need anyone, I’m happy on my own, happier than I’d ever be with you.

-Yeah sure, keep lying to yourself baby. The proud look on his face transforms your anger into fuel for the fire that is about to start, you’re no longer gonna sit around and be polite, letting this man walk all over you, you’re done with him and his excuses.

-Stop calling me that, you’re an excuse of a man and you’re also horrible at pleasuring a woman, so yes, imma find someone better than you definitely. You watch as his expression changes from proud to angry really quick.

-Really Y/N? REALLY?! After everything that I’ve done for you, you’re gonna act this way? You fucking brat.

-Stop shouting, we’re in public you moron!

-I couldn’t give less of a fuck, you don’t have the right to tell me what the fuck to do okay? He grabs your arm and squeezes it really hard until in starts hurting, but he doesn’t stop, he doesn’t let go.

Tears start piling up in your eyes. You cannot cry, you have to hold back, if he sees you cry he's gonna win, he's gonna see you vulnerable because of him again, that's the last thing you want to happen.

-Joshua stop, let go! He doesn’t let go.

-You’re gonna want me back someday, and you know it damn well.

-Hey, is there any problem in here? It’s the barista, thank god.

-None of your fucking business you fat bitch!

-Sir I’m gonna need you to leave before I call security.

-Yea sure, whatever… He gets up and goes towards the door. You’re gonna hear from me again Y/N, be sure of that.

You put your face in your palms and finally let it out, you start crying while also trying to calm yourself down and breathe.

-Hey, it’s okay… he left, I’m so sorry you had to go through this. Here. You look at the barista that hands you a napkin.

-Thank you… I’m sorry for all the trouble…

-Hey no, don’t even mention it… who was that guy anyways?

-My ex… such a douchebag.

-I couldn’t agree more… You know what? Imma give you another drink on the house okay?

-You don’t have to, really.

-It’s okay girl, you deserve it after putting up with such a scumbag.

-Thank you…

-You like cherries?

-Yes.

-Great, I have just the thing for you. She goes back behind the counter and she skillfully starts preparing your drink.

You get on your phone again and decide to text Stacey about everything that went down.

-Here you go, this coffee is my favorite from the menu, it’s called “sour cherry foamy latte”. Hope you’re gonna enjoy it. Whenever I drink it, it cheers me up. The girl says while smiling.

-Thank you...Joanna? You say while reading the name tag on the girl’s shirt.

-That’s right, what’s your name?

-Y/N, nice meeting you!

-Nice meeting you too! Hope you’re gonna come around here some more you seem nice.

-Oh I will, this latte is incredible oh my god… You say as you start drinking more from the coffee.

-I know right? The secret stays in the cherries at the bottom. She says winking.

-Joanna, you’re an angel.

-Oh, don’t make me blush.

-How long have you been working here?

-Almost 2 years… how time flies…

-Oh, makes sense now, you make really good coffee.

-Thanks, but I don’t really know if I’m the one to praise, machines do most of the work, if you think I make good coffee you should see my coworker, he’s better than me for sure, and he’s been around for only a couple months, I’m so jealous. You look up at Joanna smiling, she’s so nice, and she also seems around your age, maybe it’s time to make a new friend.

-Don’t put yourself down like that, I’m sure your coworker isn’t capable of making cute designs on coffee like you.

-Oh you have no idea what he does, you should really come around next week, he’s gonna be working, you need to see his designs.

-I don’t think he can be better than you though, you said he’s been working only for a few months…

-Yea but I got years to perfection my designs, he’s already good, he’s actually a painter in his free time.

-Really?

-Yea… see that painting with the flower vase?

-Mhm. You look in the direction that the girl showed. It was a beautiful painting of a vase with red flowers in it.

-He painted it. He’s also a really nice guy too, handsome as well. Joanna looks at you with a smirk and puts her hand next to her mouth while whispering the last part. I was shocked when he told me he’s single.

-Oh I see you have a work crush?

-No no no. She’s quick to respond while laughing. I’m a proud lesbian, I wouldn’t date a guy even if you’d pay me.

-I see, well I shall come next week too then, you’ve praised this guy too much, got me curious.

-I’m sure you’re gonna love his coffee!

-Hey could I get your instagram? It might be weird but you’re really nice and I really need new friends, only if you’d like to be friends of course.

-Oh I thought you’d never ask, you’re so cool, but I’m more of an introvert, if you wouldn’t have I’d never ask you about it. Here you go. She says while typing her username into your instagram search bar.

-Great, I followed you! You say as you get up from your seat.

-Well I hope I’ll see you around more often Y/N, I’ll text you when I’m free maybe we can hang sometime you know.

-Of course, thank you for the drink Joanna, and also… you know… for helping me out with that scumbag.

-No need to thank me, I just hope you feel better.

-I really do. Well I’ll get going now. Bye!

-Bye bye!

This was amazing, obviously not all of it, but you have a new friend now, your job interview seemed good, you got free coffee AND a new friend, your life is already looking better.

You’re almost in front of your apartment building when someone calls you. You get your phone out of your pocket and look at the name displayed on the screen.

*Chan? Why would he call me?*

-Hello?

-Y/N ARE YOU OKAY? You have to get the phone away from your ear because Chan literally screams.

-I AM OKAY YES, WHY WOULDN’T I BE?

-STACEY TEXTED YOU AND YOU DIDN’T REPLY AFTER YOU LITERALLY TOLD HER THAT JOSH WAS WITH YOU.

-CAN WE STOP SCREAMING?

-YES.

-Fuck, I forgot to update her, I just told her that he was there.

-Well she would’ve called you but she is presenting her project so she can’t. Did that motherfucker really grab your arm? Did he hurt you?

-He did grab my arm really hard, but I’m okay though.

-If there’s anything we can do for you, you know you can ask.

-Yes Chan, I know.

-Are you home?

-Not yet, close though.

-Okay I can stay on the phone until you get in the apartment.

-Okay Mister Bang.

Chan started being Stacey’s boyfriend after a month since she moved, you never met him in real life, but he was almost always present while you and Stacey talked on the phone. You started to create a brother-sister type of bond with him, you liked the way in which he was making your best friend feel, and also that he gave you the feeling of family, of being cared for, you never really had that in your childhood, but having Stacey, Chan and also Chan’s family that always sent you nice letters and cute gifts every now and then really made you feel grateful in a weird way.

After you get home you end the phone call with Chan and decide to take a nice bubble bath.

You start undressing slowly, exhausted from the day you had.

In theory you didn’t do much today, but you interacted with a lot of people, and that is just draining, your social battery was dangerously low, especially after the whole Josh situation. The water was very hot, just as you liked it, you close your eyes as you throw your head back falling prey to relaxation. You feel the warmth of the water slowly lulling you to sleep.

It was so cold, you felt like death itself was crawling into your very own bones, you felt your muscles responding to the cold liquid, shivering, but you were immobilized. You opened your eyes.

Water everywhere…

You’ve fallen asleep in the tub, now the water being ice cold.

-Damn… how much did I sleep? You get out of the tub and wrap a towel around your cold wet body.

You take a look at your phone.

-10PM? I SLEPT 6 HOURS? Fuck… now I definitely fucked my sleep schedule… I was supposed to take a 2 hour nap.

You scrolled through your notifications, besides the usual concerned texts from Stacey, you had a text on instagram from Joanna.

Curious about what the blonde girl sent you, you go straight on insta.

@Joa_47: hey, i stumbled across a post earlier, it was about some vday party for single people, it will be at a club nearby. been there b4 super nice cocktails. wanna go? =]] 20:10

Damn, this will be the death of you, you’re not so sure about this, you stopped going to parties pretty much since Stacey left, you always felt unsafe, especially in clubs with all those weird creeps trying to touch you without your consent and then play it off as “dancing”… disgusting.

you: would it be okay if i give you an answer next week? 22:26

@Joa_47: sure thing, lmk when you decide. 22:26

@Joa_47: oh also, i almost forgot, my coworker will be also coming, thought it would b nice to let you know…just in case ud feel uncomfy, even tho i promise u have no reason to, he’s a sweetheart, i feel like you2would get along rly well. 22:30

Next chapter

taglist: @lezleeferguson-120

[conspiring-limabean]

it has been about 1 year since I left my old life behind and changed almost everything for the better

[kthologue]

the end times — gojo satoru

synopsis. gojo satoru thinks he’s going to die because you’re giving him the silent treatment. (aka your first big fight with gojo).

contents. hurt/comfort, ooc, lovesick!gojo, you give him the silent treatment and he goes crazy, he is so pathetic in this one, tw obsessive behavior (he makes it EVERYONE’S problem), gojo’s pov

notes. loosely inspired by that one scene from yakuza fiance. not proofread whats new

Gojo knows he’s screwed up the second he steps into the common area of Jujutsu Tech’s dormitory. The air feels thick, wrong. And then there’s you, curled up on the couch, a book open in your lap, but your eyes aren’t moving.

His grin falters for half a second before he masks it with his usual bravado. “I always knew you had a little freak in you, but reading your erotic books out in the open? Who knew my girl was such a perv.”

The joke usually earns him a laugh, a shove, maybe even a teasing retort. But tonight, the silence that follows is deafening.

The pit in his stomach grows.

“Sweetheart?” He tries again, waving a hand obnoxiously close to your face.

You finally react, swatting his hand away, but there’s no playfulness in the motion. Your eyes don't even meet his.

“You’re late,” you say flatly, still staring at your book. “Again.”

Gojo scoffs, irritation bubbling. Not at you, never at you, but at the damn book that’s getting more attention than him.

“Ah, you know how it is. Got held up in Kyoto,” he says with a shrug.

The words leave his mouth too easily. He doesn’t realize his mistake until you finally, finally look at him.

And it’s nothing like usual.

There’s no warmth in your gaze, no sparkle of amusement or exasperation. Instead, you pin him with a look so sharp it strips him bare, leaving nothing but the hollow weight in his chest.

“You missed our date.”

His breath catches. His throat goes dry. “I–”

“I’m not mad about that.”

Relief floods him too fast, too soon. His shoulders sag as he leans down, tilting his head for a well-earned kiss. “You’re the best. I swear, I’ll make it up to you.”

You pull away before he can touch you.

Gojo freezes.

“[Name]?”

You exhale sharply, shaking your head. “You know, it’s funny.”

There’s nothing funny about this moment.

His pulse thrums as you continue, voice eerily steady. “That your mission was in Kyoto. I mean, we have a whole sister school there, full of sorcerers ready to handle a first-grade threat. So why would they need you, specifically?”

His stomach drops.

He’s never been good at guilt, not when he’s spent his whole life believing he’s untouchable. But now, standing before you, unable to meet your eyes, it sits heavy in his gut.

And you don’t let up.

“Of course, I asked around. Thought maybe I was overthinking it.” A humorless scoff escapes you. “Imagine my surprise when I found out my boyfriend was too busy meeting with his future bride.”

Gojo’s mouth opens, but for the first time in his life, he doesn’t know what to say.

“That’s–” he starts, then stops because, shit, you’re staring at him like he’s a stranger. Like he’s someone you can’t trust. The realization makes his stomach churn.

“Oh, don’t stop on my account,” you say bitterly, arms crossing as you lean back into the couch. “I mean, I’d love to hear how you were going to explain this one, Gojo Satoru.”

Full name. That’s how he knows he’s really fucked up.

“It’s not–It’s not what you think,” he says quickly, voice unusually hoarse. His usual bravado, his charm, none of it is coming to him. He doesn’t even know where to start. “I wasn’t–I wasn’t hiding it. I just–”

“You just forgot to tell me that your clan is arranging a marriage for you?” you cut in sharply. “That slipped your mind?”

“No! Yes—Fuck, that’s not what I mean,” he groans, pushing a hand through his hair. He’s never felt like this before. Like he’s scrambling for footing on uneven ground. “I didn’t tell you because it didn’t matter, sweetheart. I wasn’t ever going to go through with it. You know that, right?”

You let out a short, humorless laugh. “Do I? I mean, Suguru seemed shocked when I didn’t know that these were recurring dates set by your clan.”

Gojo falters.

“You didn’t even think to tell me, Satoru,” you say, voice quieter now, but somehow even more devastating. “You didn’t think I deserved to know?”

His heart clenches. That’s not–God, that’s not what this is.

“Of course you deserve to know! But I—” he exhales sharply, trying to gather his words. “I just—Fuck, I thought it was stupid. I thought it wasn’t worth mentioning.”

You shake your head, looking almost tired now. “Right. Because I’m just supposed to assume you’d never go through with it. After your multiple dates with her. Because I’m supposed to read your mind, just like always.”

The weight of your words crashes into him, and Gojo suddenly realizes that this isn’t just about Kyoto. This isn’t just about one lie, one mistake. This is about every time he’s brushed things off, every time he’s let silence speak for him, every time he’s sat through those excruciating meetings, knowing he would never go through with it, but never once thinking about how it would feel for you to find out this way. This is about every time he’s expected you to just get him without him ever having to say a word.

This is about how, even after everything, you still don’t know how much he loves you.

And now, looking at you, Gojo is terrified that he’s already lost his chance to prove it.

“I’m going to sleep,” you stand up from your place on the couch. 

Gojo tries to follow you, “Listen, baby–”

“I don’t want to talk to you right now. I need some space.” you turn around to send him a teary glare and that stops him in his tracks. He had never seen you cry. And it tore him apart knowing that he was the cause. 

The sound of your door slamming echoes in Gojo’s mind. 

Gojo Satoru is the first one in class the next day.

He drums his fingers against the desk, restless in a way he can't explain, but he knows it has everything to do with the fact that he spent the entire night not sleeping. His mind was too busy replaying the way you had looked at him, no, the way you hadn’t looked at him.

He had left you alone and upset. He had made you feel like you were second to someone else. And worst of all, he hadn’t even realized it until it was too late.

“This must be a first.”

Gojo glances up as Suguru enters, raising an eyebrow at him.

“Gojo Satoru, on time? It must be the end times.”

He knows it’s a joke, but it might as well be the end times. Gojo doesn’t respond, just presses his lips into a thin line as he goes back to mentally reciting the apology speech he’s been revising in his head all night.

Then the shoji door slides open again.

You walk in with Shoko, your head tilted slightly as you whisper something to her, something he’ll never get to hear because you don’t so much as glance in his direction. Instead, you take a seat at the farthest desk, as if he isn’t even there.

A part of him withers away.

But Gojo Satoru isn’t one to give up.

If words won’t get your attention, he’ll just have to be Gojo Satoru about it. He leans back in his chair and stretches obnoxiously, before loudly exclaiming, “Yaga-sensei! Are those grey hairs from your recent divorce?”

He grins, waiting for the familiar sound of your laugh, for that little shake of your head, for you to scold him like always.

But you don’t even look at him.

Instead, he’s met with Geto and Shoko’s twin expressions of abject horror, and before he has a chance to register what’s happening–

BAM!

Yaga’s palm collides with his head, sending him face-first into his desk.

Even through the throbbing pain, he can only think about one thing.

You didn’t even react.

“And how exactly is she ignoring you?”

Shoko’s grumpy voice echoes through the morgue, where she’s been attempting to practice her technique. She’s clearly unimpressed that Gojo Satoru has decided to spam-call her instead of dealing with his own problems.

“She’s ignoring me, Shoko,” Gojo groans dramatically from the other side of the Jujutsu Tech campus, rubbing the fresh bump on his head as he stands in front of your door. “I’ve been knocking for an hour. She’s in there. I know she’s in there, but she won’t answer.”

“Maybe she finally got tired of your bullshit,” Shoko says dryly. “Honestly, I don’t know why it took her this long to hold you accountable. She’s let your bad behavior slide for way too long.”

“Why are we talking about me like I’m some kind of dog?!”

Shoko ignores him.

“From the sound of it, you really messed up. I mean, who keeps a marriage a secret from their girlfriend?” She pauses, then adds with a smirk in her voice, “Oh, right. You.”

Gojo groans, pressing his forehead against your door. “You and I both know that’s not what happened. But she doesn’t. And she won’t even give me the time of day to explain.”

Shoko sighs. “Give her time to cool down.”

“And what, let her decide she wants to run off and marry some other guy? Move to a cute little beach town in Enoshima, start a family, have three kids, and leave all Jujutsu sorcery behind?”

There’s a long pause before Shoko makes a disgusted sound. “O-oi. Keep your weirdly detailed fantasies to yourself.”

“I’m just being realistic,” he insists, clutching his flip phone dramatically.

Shoko promptly hangs up on him.

Gojo stares at the device for a moment before slowly lowering it, exhaling hard.

Then he rests his head against your door again, defeated.

But Gojo Satoru was never one to admit defeat, so he tries again. He returns to your door the very next morning, bright eyed and bushy tailed.

“[Name]!” he chirps. “I bought us some parfait! Let’s talk things over, yeah?”

Silence.

Not even the sound of movement.

But Gojo Satoru is not easily discouraged.

So Gojo Satoru comes again the next morning.

“[Name]!” he knocks again, this time balancing a slice of strawberry cake in one hand. “This is all my fault, so come out and let me apologize properly!”

Nothing.

Gojo sighs, leaning against the doorframe, about to knock again when—

Your phone rings.

His breath catches as he presses his ear to the wood.

“Hi, Suguru?”

His heart stops.

“Yeah, we’re still on for the movie. I’m just about to leave right now.”

For the first time in his life, Gojo Satoru understands what people mean when they say they feel like they’ve been punched in the gut.

Because you’re going to Suguru.

You’re not just ignoring him, you’re choosing someone else.

His fingers twitch at his sides as a feeling he doesn’t like at all creeps into his chest. It’s something ugly, something unfamiliar. Something that feels a lot like jealousy. Was that how you felt?

He wants to knock again, wants to demand that you open the door, look at him, let him fix this before you walk away from him any further.

But he doesn’t.

Instead, he presses his lips into a thin line, shoves his hands into his pockets, and forces himself to step away from your door.

Forces himself to give you the space you deserved.

You don’t know why you relent so easily.

You shouldn’t. Not after the way he lied, the way he kept something so important from you.

And yet, when you hear him pacing outside your door, his nervous energy practically seeping through the walls, you feel something crack.

He’s been outside your room for the nth time this week. Every day, like clockwork, he’s knocked. Brought your favorite snacks. Talked to you through the door, filling the silence with his ridiculous banter, even when you refused to answer.

You squeeze your eyes shut, gripping your blanket a little tighter. You should stay angry. But you can't.

You sigh, pressing your forehead to your knee.

Maybe it’s time to stop punishing the both of you.

With a deep breath, you stand, crossing the room to the door. When you open it, Gojo nearly stumbles forward, mid-step in his pacing.

His eyes snap to yours, wide and filled with so much desperate hope it makes your chest ache.

And the way his face lights up like you’ve just handed him the entire world tells you that, maybe, you were never going to be able to stay mad at him forever.

But you’re here, leaning on your door frame with your arms crossed, your nails digging into your skin as you glare at the man who has spent the last ten minutes tripping over his words, looking wrecked in a way you’ve never seen before. His hair is messier than usual, lips are parted like he wants to say something, anything, but he doesn’t know where to start.

Finally, you scoff, breaking the silence. “If you don’t have anything to say, I’m going back into my room.”

“No!,” Gojo steps forward instinctively, like he’s afraid you’ll slip through his fingers. And after everything, he is. “I screwed up.”

You give him a deadpan look. “Oh, really?”

He groans, dragging a hand down his face. “Okay, yeah, I really fucked up.”

Silence.

You should say something. You should demand an explanation, yell, maybe even cry, but you’re so tired. You’ve spent days twisting yourself into knots over this, convincing yourself you never meant as much to him as he did to you.

And then Gojo says it.

“I should’ve told you.” His voice is hoarse. “I should have told you after the first meeting. After the first second they brought it up.” He swallows hard. “But I was stupid. I thought if I ignored it, if I went through the motions, if I waited for the right moment… then it wouldn’t matter. That it would be over before you ever had to know.”

You shake your head, letting out a hollow laugh. “Satoru, do you even hear yourself? Do you get what it was like for me to find out from someone else? To hear that the person I–” you cut yourself off, but the damage is done. You see it in the way his breath hitches, in the way his fingers twitch at his sides, like he wants to reach for you.

“The person you what?” he asks softly, pleading.

You clench your jaw. “It doesn’t matter.”

“It does matter.”

Your shake your head. “You lied to me.”

“I know,” he says, and the sheer brokenness in his voice makes your throat tighten. “I know, sweetheart. And I swear to you that I never meant to. I never wanted to hurt you.” he exhales shakily, rubbing the back of his neck. “I swear on everything, I was never going to go through with it. I never even showed up to any of the dates, so they kept ambushing me under the guise of missions! I sat through every single one of those goddamn meetings thinking about how ridiculous it was, how there was only ever one person I wanted.”

He stops himself, inhaling sharply.

And then, quieter, almost afraid:

“How there’s only ever you.”

The words hit you like a fist to the chest.

Gojo watches you carefully, breathless, waiting. Hoping. He’s given you the truth, raw and unfiltered, and now it’s up to you.

And maybe it’s the exhaustion, maybe it’s the way he looks at you like you’re the most important thing in his world that makes you believe him.

For the first time in a week, your lips find his, and Gojo swears he can finally breathe again. The warmth of your palm against his cheek, the way your fingers curl slightly as if grounding yourself in him. It’s enough to make him melt.

"You’re so insufferably cheesy, Satoru," you murmur against his lips, your breath warm, teasing. "It makes me so angry that I love it." A pause, a soft exhale. "But I forgive you."

His grin is instant, smug and shameless. "That was good, huh?" He tilts his head, cerulean eyes twinkling. "I’m willing to bet your heart skipped a beat."

You roll your eyes, but you kiss him again, slower this time, because, damn it, he’s right.

extra!

“I demand some extra loving!” Satoru sprawls dramatically across your bed, limbs hanging off the edge like a defeated king.

You barely spare him a glance, flipping a page in your book as you lie comfortably on your stomach. “And why, exactly, do you deserve that?”

He lifts his head, pouting. “I deserve it after a week’s worth of psychological trauma. Don’t think I forgot that you ditched me for Suguru.”

“Oh… that.”

“Yeah. That.” His voice is thick with exaggerated betrayal.

You finally look at him, a smirk tugging at your lips. “It was a fake phone call, Satoru. You were just so insufferable camping outside my door that I had to make up an excuse.”

His jaw drops. “Huh?!”

[daryltwdixon]

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 4.5 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 6.5

Summary: You and Tommy had been trying for a baby for years. When a trip to the gyno answers questions you didn’t even know to ask, your husband enlists the help of his one and only brother.

|| smut MDNI 18+, pinv, no outbreak, talk of infertility, not cheating but def not exactly kosher, baby makin', breeding kink, dirty talk, size kink, boundaries being crossed || notes: forgive me father for I have sinned. this is filthy. but also thinking about a part 2. kinda sorta maybe inspired by some crazy reddit stories. you'd be surprised how many there are like this LOL

You knew this was a crazy idea. Batshit crazy, actually. You were aware. But maybe, just maybe, if you spun it the right way, if you framed it with enough love and logic, it wouldn’t seem so absurd.

See, the thing is, you and Tommy had been trying for a baby for years. Trying and, well, failing. It wasn’t until your last visit to the OB-GYN that a simple question—"Has Tommy ever been tested?"—sent everything spiraling. A few weeks of waiting. A single piece of paper. An answer you never expected. It wasn’t you. It was him.

Not that you’d ever blame him. You loved him too much. But no matter how many old wives’ tricks you tried—holding your legs up after he emptied himself into you, orgasms before and after, cinnamon and honey in your morning tea—nothing could change the fact that no amount of effort would make it stick.

Which brings you to now. Sat at the kitchen table in your quaint, cozy home with Joel across from you, a few glasses of wine deep. His expression was somewhere between exhausted and mildly entertained from whatever dumb story Tommy had been telling. You’d needed a glass yourself, just to steady your nerves.

And then Tommy popped the question.

Joel blinked once. Twice. His mouth opened, then shut again, then opened just enough for a noise—somewhere between a scoff and an incredulous laugh—to escape. He shifted in his chair, pushing back just slightly, like he needed to physically distance himself from what he was hearing.

“You…” he started, then stopped. Shook his head. “You want me to—?”

He didn’t even finish the sentence. Just motioned vaguely, like the words were so ridiculous they refused to come out of his mouth.

Tommy sighed, his grip firm around your hand while the other wrapped around your shoulders. “Yeah.”

Joel exhaled sharply, eyes darting between the two of you, like maybe, just maybe, this was a joke. That you'd all start laughing and point at him with a big 'got ya!'. His lips parted slightly, his forehead creased.

“You’re serious.”

“We wouldn’t ask anyone else,” Tommy said, voice steady.

Joel let out a breathy laugh, hollow and disbelieving. He dragged a hand down his face before pressing his palms against the table, fingers splaying out like he needed to brace himself.

“This ain’t a normal conversation to be havin’ over dinner, Tommy.”

“We know.”

“Do you?” Joel snapped, finally looking at his brother again, his voice sharper now. “Because I gotta tell ya, it really don’t seem like you do.”

“This ain’t easy for either of us,” Tommy said, his voice steady despite the tension winding between the three of you. “But we wouldn’t ask anyone else. We want to keep it in the family, so…the baby would still be related to me.”

Joel’s jaw tensed. His fingers gripped the stem of his wine glass like it was the only thing keeping him tethered to reality. 

He looked over in your direction, but not directly at you, just at the table. At your hand in Tommy’s.

“And you’re…okay with this?” His voice was different now. Lower. Measured, like he was afraid of the answer.

You nodded. “We’ve talked about it. A lot. Ever since the results came back, we’ve been weighing options, and this—” You hesitated, swallowing, trying to gauge if he was even absorbing a single word. “It makes the most sense. More than adopting. More than a stranger. It keeps things in the family.”

Joel’s jaw clenched, his ears tinged pink. He still wasn’t looking at you.

Not until you said his name. Soft. Careful.

His eyes flicked to yours, just for a second. Just long enough for you to see everything—the disbelief, the sheer what the fuck of it all—before he dropped his gaze again, shaking his head.

“You don’t have to decide now,” you said gently, exhaling softly. “Just… take some time to think about it.”

Joel didn’t respond.

A few minutes later, he left—no joke, no small talk of the next Sunday night football game could cut through the weight pressing down on the room. Just a stiff nod, a muttered see ya, and the quiet sound of the door closing behind him.

The following Sunday, it almost felt like the conversation had never happened.

The three of you sat at the sports bar, watching the Cowboys play on the massive screens, the air thick with the scent of beer and fried food. Tommy was his usual self, shouting at the refs, leaning into Joel’s shoulder every time the score tipped in their favor. Joel, on the other hand, was harder to read. He was relaxed enough, beer in hand, his usual dry remarks slipping out here and there, but there was something quieter beneath it all—something you couldn’t quite put your finger on.

Not one mention of a baby. Not a single word about what you’d asked of him.

And maybe that was his answer.

When your husband got up, throwing out the excuse of takin’ a leak, the energy between you and Joel shifted. Not in a way you could name—just… thicker. More noticeable.

He sat a seat away, the empty barstool between you like a buffer neither of you had the nerve to close.

You tried to let it roll off your shoulders, but as you sat there, your mind wandered. What if Joel had said yes? What if it worked? Would the baby have his dark eyes, that heavy, thoughtful brow? Would they get that serious little crease between their eyes when they were thinking? His thick hair, his strong hands?

Tommy would still be their father. That was what mattered. That was the whole point. But the idea of seeing traces of Joel—subtle things, the shape of a nose, the curve of a smile…

The thought sent a strange, unfamiliar feeling curling in your chest.

It hurt, his lack of an answer, of course it did. But how could you blame him? You were asking for too much. Asking him to do something unnatural, something messy, something that could never be as clean and logical as you and Tommy had tried to convince yourselves it was.

You swallowed, setting your drink down as the silence stretched. “Listen, Joel—”

“I’ll do it.”

It was quiet. Like he wasn’t sure if he meant to say it out loud.

Your breath caught, as you stared at him, mouth agape. The side of his face gave nothing away as he kept his eyes on the TV as you waited for some kind of smirk, some sign that he was messing with you.

But he wasn’t.

Joel kept his eyes averted, like this was the kind of thing a person could say without looking someone in the eye. He took a long drink from his bottle, then set it down with a dull thud.

“You and Tommy deserve this,” he murmured, rolling the glass between his palms as he stared down at it. “To have a kid.”

Your heart constricted at the sincerity in his voice.

He exhaled, shaking his head slightly. “My life is better ‘cause of Sarah. Don’t think I ever told Tommy that outright, but… it is. I’d love to see him get to have that too.”

You blinked. “Are you…” Your voice was barely above a whisper. “You serious?”

Joel turned to you finally, his eyes meeting yours for the first time since last week before you dropped the bomb on him, “Yeah.” he said finally, “Yeah, I’m serious.”

He was clearly uncomfortable, clearly still working through it—but the fact that he said it at all, that he meant it... that was more than you expected.

To be honest, you knew the baster idea wouldn’t work.

Not that you’d ever say it out loud. Not to your very loving, very kind, very hopeful husband. But deep down, you were pretty sure that by the time Joel had taken care of himself, transferred it into a container, driven it over, and you’d sat back on the bed with your legs up, whatever needed to be alive in there was long dead.

You didn’t bring it up. Couldn’t. Not when Tommy was trying so hard to make this work.

Across from you in the kitchen one morning, another negative pregnancy test sitting between you, your husband sighed, rubbing a hand over his jaw before reaching for his mug, “If I ask you somethin’,” he murmured, voice low, hesitant, “will you tell me the truth?”

Your eyes flicked up to his. “Of course, baby.”

His hand rested on the granite, fingers close enough that you reached out, tracing them lightly with your own. His eyes drifted down to your delicate touch against him.

Then, he exhaled slowly and cleared his throat.

“Do you think we should try…” His fingers twitched under yours. “Ya know. The old-fashioned way?”

For a second, the words didn’t land.

Not until you saw the way his eyes found yours and he was looking at you—serious, thoughtful, like he’d been turning it over in his head for longer than he wanted to admit.

You blinked. “What do you mean?”

Tommy sighed, pressing his lips together before setting his coffee down. “I just think… for it to stick properly, we might need to try somethin’ more… natural.”

Your mind reeled. Heat crept up your neck, flushing your skin before you could stop it.

The idea of being with another man…

Tommy saw it. The way your lips parted, the way your breath caught just slightly.

He stepped closer, smoothing his hands over your cheeks, tilting your face up toward his.

“Only if you were comfortable with it,” he assured, voice gentle, steady. “I’d never ask you to do somethin’ you didn’t wanna do.”

You swallowed hard, still trying to process. “I—I don’t know, Tommy.” Your voice was barely above a whisper. “And Joel would flip out if we asked that of him.”

Tommy hummed, thumbs brushing over your cheekbones. “Yeah, he might.”

Might was an understatement.

Joel was over the following day to help with your bathroom remodel, a project the brothers had taken on during the slow season. You were busy finishing whatever odds and ends you needed to get done upstairs when you heard his voice traveling through the house.

Not just his voice—but the volume of it.

“Are you outta your goddamn mind?!”

The sound rattled through the house, shaking the walls as you hovered at the top of the stairs, heart pounding.

“Joel—” Tommy’s voice, calm but firm.

“No. No, you don’t get to ‘Joel’ me right now, Tommy, because what you just said—what you just— Christ.” There was the distinct sound of something slamming—a fist on the table? A chair shoved back? You weren’t sure, but it made you wince.

“Look, man, I knew you’d be pissed,” Tommy started, only to be cut off immediately.

“Oh, did you?” Joel’s voice dripped with sarcasm. “You knew I’d be pissed, but you went ahead and asked anyway? Jesus fuckin’ Christ. I’m already crossin’ so many lines with what we’re doin’, and now you’re askin’ me to…to—!?”

You could picture it perfectly—Joel pacing the length of the room, one hand on his hip, the other raking through his hair, winding up, because when Joel was really mad, he didn’t just stand there.

“You’re makin’ it a bigger deal than it is,” Tommy tried, tone even.

Joel let out a sharp, humorless laugh. “Oh, I’m sorry, did I misunderstand the part where you just asked me to fuck your wife?”

Heat crawled up your neck.

“We ain’t askin’ that, Jesus, Joel, don’t talk about her like—”

“You are absolutely askin’ that.”

“It’s not like that.”

“The hell it ain’t!”

Silence. Heavy, tense.

You swallowed hard, gripping the banister, unsure whether to go down there or stay put.

Then—Joel’s voice, lower now, but still laced with disbelief.

“Tell me you didn’t really think I’d say yes to this.”

And Tommy, just as steady as ever:

“I think you wanna say no.” A pause, and you could almost feel the shift in the air between them. “But deep down? I think you’re already considerin’ it.”

Joel let out a slow, sharp exhale, but he didn’t argue.

And a week later, he was back at your doorstep.

There were three rules.

1. No kissing.

That was the hard line, the non-negotiable. Kissing was too intimate— too personal, too close to something else entirely. You could rationalize everything else, strip it down to the mechanics of what needed to happen, but kissing blurred the lines. That made it mean something. And this couldn’t mean anything.

2. No talking about it outside the bedroom. 

No slipping up over dinner, no awkward mentions in passing, no weird jokes over a few beers. It had to stay contained. A thing that only existed in a room with the door closed and the world shut out. Because once it bled into the rest of your life—once it became something you acknowledged beyond those four walls—it would become real.

3. No names

No whispered Joel in the dark, he couldn’t say yours while he was inside you. Names had weight. Names had meaning. And the second you said them, it stopped being about a baby.

So when your ovulation window came within the next few days, you found yourself in your bedroom with the two brothers. When Tommy excused himself from the room—pressing a kiss to your forehead before heading out to meet his buddies at the bar like this wasn’t the weirdest fucking thing in the world— you turned to Joel

Over the years, you’d come to know him, grown comfortable with him. That familiarity should’ve helped, should’ve made this easier. But sitting here now, alone in the bedroom with him, awkward was an understatement.

Joel sighed, rubbing his forefinger and thumb along his brows as he stood at the edge of the bed. “Guess we better get to it, then.”

You nodded numbly, tucking your legs beneath you on the bedspread, looking up at him.

He was already tense, broad shoulders squared, avoiding your gaze like you weren’t even in the damn room. He exhaled sharply, then—without ceremony—unbuckled his belt. The clink of metal sent a strange ripple through your stomach, but you forced yourself to focus, watching as he shucked his jeans down to his thighs, taking his boxers with them.

Your breath caught.

Even soft as he was at the moment, he was bigger than Tommy. Thicker.

Joel cleared his throat, shifting his stance, one hand bracing against the bedpost while the other wrapped around himself. He wasn’t looking at you. Not even close. His gaze stayed fixed somewhere off to the side, jaw locked, the muscles in his forearm flexing as he started moving his hand.

It wasn’t working.

Minutes passed, the air between you thick and suffocating, but he remained… soft. The tension in his face deepened, brows knitting, his motions growing stilted.

You chewed your lip, watching as his frustration mounted.

“You don’t gotta sit there starin’ at me,” he muttered, voice gruff, like this was somehow your fault.

You exhaled through your nose. “I’m just… tryin’ to think how I can help.”

His hand stilled. “You’re fine. Just–just give me a minute,”

Then suddenly as the idea struck, you reached for the hem of your shirt and pulled it up.

Joel’s head snapped toward you, eyes going wide. “What’re you doin’?” His voice was sharp, edged in something that sounded suspiciously close to panic.

You hesitated. “Just… thought maybe it’d help.”

“Well, don’t.” His ears were red. “Keep your damn clothes on.”

You huffed. “Jesus, it’s just a shirt.”

He grumbled something under his breath, but let it go, shaking his head like he couldn’t believe any of this was happening.

Another beat of silence, only the sound of skin on skin filling the air as he fisted himself.

“Can I help?”

His gaze flicked to yours, skeptical. “Help how?”

You shrugged. “I dunno. What do you like?”

Joel tensed. “…The hell kinda question is that?”

“A valid one,” you shot back, tilting your head. “C’mon, there’s gotta be somethin’. What do you like?”

He hesitated, shifting where he stood, uncomfortable. You rattled off a few suggestions, some kinks you’d heard of. He barely reacted.

Then finally, one seemed to slap him upside the head, “Do you like dirty talk?”

His entire body stilled.

His eyes finally, finally found yours.

Bingo.

A slow pulse of heat curled low in your stomach.

You leaned forward slightly, voice softer now. “What kind of things do you say?”

He didn’t answer right away. Just stared at you, the tension in his jaw loosening, his pupils starting to widen.

“Come on, Joel,” you said, then immediately pressed your lips together, realizing you’d already broken one of your own rules—not even five minutes in.

“Sorry—” You exhaled, shaking your head. “But c’mon, do you want me to talk to you? Or what do you usually say to women?”

Joel’s eyes were suddenly burning into you, his chest rising and falling just a little heavier now. He exhaled sharply, remembering himself as his gaze flickered around the room like he wasn’t sure where to land it, like maybe if he didn’t look at you, this would stay clinical—mechanical.

“I uh…” He wet his lips, voice rough. “Usually will tell ‘em they’re bein’ real good for me,” he said, exhaling through his teeth. “Bein’ a good girl.”

The temperature of the room shifted, the air growing heavy, pressing down on you. A slow, pooling ache pulsed low in your belly. His nostrils flared as his eyes found yours again, like maybe he could see exactly what that did to you.

You swallowed, “What else?”

Joel’s hips twitched. He hesitated, his grip flexing around himself, fingers curling just slightly. You caught the bob of his throat, the faint shift of his stance. He was getting there.

His gaze dropped to your mouth. “Tell ‘em how pretty they look on their knees.” His voice had taken on a new weight—thicker, heavier, his drawl rolling low in his throat. “How sweet they sound when they moan for me. How bad I wanna feel ‘em wrapped around me, drippin’ and ready, beggin’ for more.”

The room contracted, the air impossibly tight, each breath harder to pull in. Your skin felt hot, your lips parting as you fought to keep your breathing steady. And you knew—knew—your pupils were wide, knew your face was flushed.

Because his was too.

His eyes had darkened, locked on yours, heat simmering beneath the surface. You inhaled deeply, the air between you charged, electric. You reached out, fingers grazing along his forearm. He tensed, muscles flexing beneath your touch, but he didn’t pull away.

“You wanna take this off?” you murmured, voice quiet but sure, fingers tracing up toward the sleeve of his shirt.

Joel let out a slow breath, something flickering behind his eyes—hesitation, uncertainty—but then, after a beat, he reached down and pulled his shirt over his head, dropping it to the floor.

Your gaze raked over him.

Christ. He was the epitome of masculinity—broad and solid, built like something carved from rough earth, from long years of labor and hardship. His chest was strong, lined with thick, dark hair that tapered down his stomach in a steady trail, leading lower—disappearing into the patch just above where he was hardening in his hand. 

Your mouth was dry, your pulse a slow, deliberate thrum in your veins.

You lifted your hands to the hem of your own shirt, pausing just slightly. He hadn’t looked away.

“Okay?” you asked softly.

His jaw flexed, gaze dark, unreadable—but after a second, he nodded.

You pulled it over your head, the fabric slipping away, baring more skin than you’d ever thought he’d see.

Joel exhaled sharply, his eyes dragging down your body, heavy and slow, his pupils swallowing the color of his eyes. Your nipples pebbled in the open air, a shiver running through you as his gaze settled there, his breath hitching just slightly.

You reached for him again, fingers trailing along the hard lines of his chest, dipping over the planes of his stomach. He was warm beneath your touch and he smelled like pine and musk and something richer, something leathered and sun-baked—something distinctly Joel.

He sucked in a sharp breath. “O—okay,” he exhaled, voice rough. “I think I’m… good,” he added shakily, and you could see his body finally catching up to the filth rolling off his tongue, the thick weight of him fully hard now. You swallowed dryly at the sheer size of him in his palm.

Standing slowly, your hands dropped from his body, but your eyes never left his as you slid your pants down your hips and let them pool at your feet.

Bare. You were both bare.

Your gaze dragged over him, from the broad stretch of his shoulders down to his stomach, the solid cut of his thighs, his cock standing thick and heavy between you. It was the most you’d ever seen of him. The most he’d ever seen of you.

And he was beautiful.

Joel swallowed hard, his jaw tight as his gaze traveled over every inch of you. Then, wordlessly, you laid back down on the bedspread, opening your legs for him.

He cursed under his breath.

You caught the way his throat bobbed, the way his fingers twitched at his sides before he climbed onto the bed after you, settling between your legs. His eyes darted down, locked onto the wetness pooling between your thighs, and his nostrils flared.

“All this from just a few sweet words, huh?” His voice was lower now, edged with something amused but dark, something he hadn’t meant to let slip through.

He shifted forward, but you stopped him with a hand to his chest.

“I, uh…” You cleared your throat, suddenly shy. “It’s said that women are more likely to get pregnant if, um… if they orgasm during or… or before, I think.”

Joel stilled for half a second before a slow smirk pulled at his lips. “You doubt me so much?”

The teasing edge in his voice—the cockiness—made some of the tension in your chest loosen. You let out a breathless laugh, your body unwinding slightly from the tension earlier. “I just… I’ve never…”

Something shifted in his face. The smirk faltered just a little. “You’re sayin’ my baby brother doesn’t take care of his own wife?”

“No!” you said quickly, your hand flexing against his chest defensively. “He does, it’s just… I can’t finish just from penetration. Most women can’t, actually.”

“I know, darlin’.”

You gasped as the thick head of his cock suddenly swiped through your slick arousal, and he hissed, pressing his other hand into the pillow beside your head as he leaned over you.

“Fuck—”

His voice was rough, gravelly, wrecked, and something about it made your thighs squeeze around his waist, made the heat coil even tighter in your belly.

Joel lingered there, his cock sliding through your slick, slow and deliberate, teasing against your swollen clit with every pass. The thick head caught at your entrance, nudging just slightly, and a gasp broke from your lips before you could swallow it down.

His jaw ticked, fingers flexing in the pillow beside your head, his body wound tight like a spring.

“This okay?” he asked, voice rough, strained.

You nodded quickly. “Yeah. Yes.”

He pressed forward, just an inch, just enough for you to feel the blunt stretch of him, and your breath hitched.

“Jesus,” he muttered under his breath. “So damn wet.”

Heat flooded your face, but you couldn’t think—couldn’t focus on anything other than how thick he was, how different he was from Tommy. You felt like you were being split in two, but you wanted more. Every inch only made that need, that hunger, grow.

His hand lifted from his cock, skimming over your hip before settling on your thigh, holding you open.

“Gotta take it slow,” he murmured, mostly to himself. “Don’t wanna hurt you.”

You swallowed hard, fingers curling into the sheets beside you. “I can take it.”

His head dropped for a second, a quiet curse slipping past his lips. “Don’t say shit like that, sweetheart.”

Something about that word, the way it left his mouth—low and full of something dangerous—made your stomach clench.

The stretch was slow, unbearable in the best way as he pushed forward even more, your body giving inch by inch, and you let out a sharp exhale as he filled you.

Joel groaned, deep and low, his fingers tightening on your thigh as he finally buried himself to the hilt.

Jesus Christ.

The weight of him inside you, the way he fit—it was overwhelming, taking up every inch of space, leaving you panting beneath him.

“Fuck,” he gritted out, his hips flush with yours now, his jaw tight. “You’re—shit, you’re squeezin’ me so damn tight.”

Your thighs trembled around his waist, your body working to adjust to the fullness, to the sheer size of him, and then—oh god—then he moved.

A slow pull out, a deep thrust back in.

You moaned, head falling back against the pillows, fingers flexing against the sheets.

Joel’s breath was ragged, his grip tightening. “That’s it.”

As he began to set a steady pace, a deep thrust in, a gentle pull out, the tingling sensation you knew all too well was rising fast—too fast. It climbed up your spine, coiling tight, and your breath hitched in your throat. The sensation was familiar, so familiar, but not like this. Not from this.

Joel moved with deep, deliberate thrusts, each one stretching you full, dragging against every oversensitive nerve inside you with agonizing precision. His cock was thick, heavy, unrelenting—pressing deep, pressing right, pleasure licking up your spine like fire.

His hand moved between you, thumb finding your clit with ease, the calloused pad brushing over the swollen bundle of nerves, a touch just firm enough to make you jolt. Your whole body reacted, thighs trembling, an involuntary gasp ripping from your lips.

His breath hitched as he felt it too, and he let out a dark, pleased hum.

“Feel that?” he murmured, his voice a slow, deliberate drag against your skin. His thumb moved again, slick and sure, working tight little circles against you. “Now, what was it you said again?”

Your chest heaved, your fingers gripping at the sheets, at him, anything to keep yourself tethered, because the pleasure was coming in hot, hard waves now—building, climbing, making your skin flush and prickle with heat.

“I—I never—” You gasped, voice breaking, lips parting as your back arched into the feeling, as you felt your muscles tighten and clench under him.

Joel leaned in, lips brushing against your ear. “C’mon, sweet girl. Use your words.”

Your hips met every thrust, dragging a moan from deep in your chest.

“I’ve never—ah!—never come like this before,” you choked out, breathless and desperate.

Joel swore under his breath.

“You’re tellin’ me,” he rasped, voice dripping in absolute filth and sin, “my pissy little brother never made you come on his cock before?”

The shame of it—the filthy, shameless truth of it—slammed into you just as hard as the pleasure. Your breath came in short, stilted gasps, your thighs twitching, heat curling low and tight, twisting like a wire pulled too taut. You gripped his biceps hard where they caged you in, your nails digging into his skin.

“I–”

“Never felt the way you’re squeezin’ the life outta me right now, baby?” His voice dipped lower, rougher, as his thumb pressed, rubbing slow and tight. “Never had you like this? Drippin’ and desperate? Makin’ the prettiest fuckin’ sounds I’ve ever heard?”

Heat flared in your belly, your legs shaking around him, pleasure tearing through you.

Joel felt it, the way you clenched down around him, and he grinned, breath hot against your mouth as he groaned through his teeth.

“Fuck—that’s it. Let me feel you.”

And you did.

Your body suddenly snapped. The orgasm slammed into you, white-hot and merciless, every nerve in your body firing at once, blinding you with pleasure so intense it was nearly unbearable. Your breath punched from your lungs as your back arched clean off the bed, thighs trembling, a cry tearing from your lips as waves of heat crashed through you.

Joel swore under his breath, hips stuttering as you clenched tight around him, and his mouth hovered just above yours, his breath mixing with yours, the air between you thick and electric.

He felt the way your body fluttered around him, still pulsing with the comedown of your orgasm, dragging him deeper, tighter—trapping him. His breath was heavy, coming in sharp, ragged exhales as he dropped his head, his forehead resting against yours.

His hips kept moving quick and uneven, dragging his cock in and out of your still-clenching walls. He was throbbing, thick and hot inside you, every roll of his hips sending sharp little sparks of overstimulation through your system.

That was when, after coming back to earth, you saw the way his lips parted slightly, his breath hitching whenever you squeezed around him just right. The tension in his face, the way his muscles coiled and flexed with every deliberate movement.

He was close.

You wondered…

Your breath was still shaky, voice unsteady, but you let it slip out, slow and sultry, testing the waters, “You feel so good,” you whispered.

Joel froze for a split second, a sharp breath punching from his lungs as he reeled his head back to look down at you.

"Does it feel good for you?” you whispered, your fingers trailing up the nape of his neck. “Filling me up? Making me feel so full? So good?”

Joel let out a ragged, wrecked sound, his fingers digging into your skin, gripping you like a lifeline.

And in that moment—fuck the rules.

Because this was anything but clinical now.

You pressed a soft kiss to his jaw, letting your breath fan against his ear as you whispered, gentle, teasing.

“You gonna give me a baby, Joel?”

Joel let out a wrecked groan, his grip on your hips tightening, his pace faltering. His thrusts turned rougher, sharper, his body moving on pure instinct now—chasing it.

And then he snapped.

A strangled moan ripped from his throat as he slammed deep, burying himself to the hilt, his cock pulsing inside you as heat flooded you. His whole body shook, a ragged, guttural sound tearing from his chest as he came, thick and hot, spilling deep, his fingers flexing against your hips like he was trying to ground himself.

You gasped at the feeling, at the warmth spreading inside you, at the way his body shook above you.

Joel was panting, forehead pressed to yours, sweat damp at his hairline, his breath fanning against your lips, warm and unsteady.

For a long moment, neither of you moved.

Joel was still inside you, still filling you, his weight pressing you into the mattress, grounding you. His breath was heavy, warm against your cheek as he turned his head, his chest rising and falling against yours in slow, uneven waves.

“I should, uh…” His voice was hoarse, thick with something he wasn’t naming. He swallowed, clearing his throat as he sat up. “I should probably—”

You shifted slightly beneath him, still sensitive, still pulsing with the warmth of him inside you. Your thighs trembled, the ache delicious, spreading through you like slow heat.

“You can go,” you murmured, voice soft, a little sleepy. “I’m gonna stay here for a while.”

He hesitated as he looked down at you, your bodies still connected. 

You blinked up at him, lips curving in a lazy, satisfied smile.

“It’s said that if a woman stays lying down after, it increases the chances of conception.” You hummed, stretching slightly, body still warm and loose. “Just want to give it time to stick.”

You felt him twitch inside you, like his body had just caught up to the meaning of your words, and then he was pulling out, hissing under his breath as he eased away from you.

His heat vanished instantly, and a shiver ran through you at the sudden emptiness, the cool air replacing where he’d been pressed so solidly against you. You exhaled, tugging the covers up over yourself, shifting deeper into the mattress, letting your body sink into the afterglow.

Joel, on the other hand, was already moving, and fast.

He turned away from the bed, running a hand through his hair, reaching for his jeans like he needed them back on, needed the barrier, needed to be done with this.

“Hey,” you called softly as he stepped toward the door, one leg shoved into his pants.

He paused, turning slightly, just enough to look at you over his shoulder.

You blinked up at him sleepily, the blankets pulled up to your bare shoulders, your voice softer now. “You okay?”

Joel hesitated. Just for a second.

His hands hovered at his belt, his fingers twitching. His lips pressed together, like he was weighing his answer, like he didn’t trust whatever was sitting heavy on his tongue.

Then, he gave you a short, stiff nod. “Yeah. ‘M good.”

You hummed, unconvinced, watching the way his chest still rose and fell in uneven breaths, the lingering flush at his throat, the tension in his hands as he buckled his belt like he was fighting something.

“Okay,” you murmured, turning your head into the pillow, eyes half-lidded, “And, Joel?”

His gaze flickered back to you, hovering, like he was bracing himself.

You swallowed, shifting slightly under the blankets, warmth settling deep in your bones. “Thank you.”

Joel’s fingers twitched where they grabbed for his shirt, his throat working around something thick, something stuck. His eyes dragged over you one last time, heavy, unreadable, before he gave a single, curt nod.

“I’ll see you,” he muttered, voice rough, almost hesitant.

Then he turned, and with the sound of the door clicking shut behind him, he was gone.