#may have taken it a little too personally

[prentisslvr]

congrats on 100 followers. i’ve been following since your first spencer fic, checkmate. i absolutely love your writing. could i ask for a spencer reid, with prompt 4 (he’s saying it) and then 8 (with reader saying it)

WHATS MINE IS YOURS

summary; you spill something on your shirt and you borrow spencer’s

genre: fluff, mutual pining, bestfriends to lovers.

prompt; “is that my shirt?” & “stop looking at me like that.”

authors note: i’m not sure if i like this, this was a little rushed but 🤷‍♀️

you had arrived at work in a haste, two cups of freshly made coffee in your hands, one for you, the other for spencer.

which was what you did every morning, but it’d just so happened that today, emily had her intern running around completing tasks, one of them being running right into you, causing you to spill piping hot coffee all over your white top.

you would’ve screamed had it not been for the fact the intern looked like she was going to burst into tears right then and there, so with a strained smile, and a pat on her shoulder you’d made your way back to your car looking around for something to wear.

the only thing being a spencers fresh laundry you’d picked up from the laundromat for him, he woke up pretty early in the morning, but he lived a walk away from the nearest laundromat.

and since you had a car, you grabbed them for him.

he appreciated this greatly, even if it had taken you weeks to convince him to allow you to do it, you lived like five minutes away from the laundromat, he live about fifteen minutes away in a car, probably thirty minutes to walk like he did.

you just liked making things easier, penelope had once said your love language was acts of service, whatever that meant.

you walked into the bullpen in one of his button up shirts, you sigh taking a seat at your desk, the shirt was white with stripes, it wasn’t your usual attire and it drew attention, from almost everyone.

especially the man who owned it, at first, he’d just thought you changed up your style for a moment, but when he really looked, he noticed what you were wearing.

his shirt.

and, god, he was having palpitations, you were in his shirt, and you looked really good.

it was no lie to the entire team, and well, pretty much the world, that whilst you and spencer were best friends, there was something more than that between the two of you.

“is that my shirt?”

your eyes shoot up from your paperwork and you guiltily nod. “i spilt coffee and im not exactly the most prepared person in the world, i had your laundry and—”

“don’t worry about it.” he smiled cutting your little rant off. “what’s mine is yours.”

you sigh thankfully. “thanks spence, you really are a lifesaver.”

as you continued work though, spencer would not stop sending you glances, if it were someone else, you may even have seen a hint of desire in his eyes.

but it was spencer, surely he wouldn’t.

“stop looking at me like that!” you exclaimed, it’d been ten minutes and spencer wouldn’t stop staring at you, granted you’d been looking too, but still.

spencer blinks. “like what?” his ears going red, he’d been caught, but he couldn’t help it, you just looked so good in his shirt, he’d never felt so attracted to you before now.

“nothing, nevermind.” you bite your lip looking down at your work with frown and spencer smiled, he’d tell you one day.

but for now the dr would settle for his stolen glances and making sure he kept a couple spare shirts in case you ever happen to ruin one of your own once again.

[grechsblog]

(There are several fundamental things that you are certain of, about yourself. The truth about them is so integrated in your bones that no matter how much the curse over your memory tries to scrub it, you refuse to forget.)

"You are certain he is not in the meadow?" You hear Odile ask a third time, something sharp but also maybe a little fearful in her tone. You are bad at depicting exact emotions, always have been, so you aren't fully sure, but you, personally, feel very afraid as of right now watching the House in the distance, so you wouldn't blame her for being so high-strung.

Even if you'd prefer that she would stop biting Mirabelle over it.

(One: you were born on the island north of Vaugarde.)

(The language, the rituals, the crafts — you were raised into it, breathed it, lived it until it all was swallowed into an insatiable black hole that spans across the whole Universe, making it remember and forget and remember and forget, cycling.)

Mirabelle is anxiously wringing her hands, hastily put on oil-stained clothes rustling like tree's leaves in the strange wind you are sure isn't natural. "I am sure!! I've- I've checked it over and over, and walked a bit into the woods near it, and run up to Favor Tree and checked there a couple of times, but he's- he's nowhere to be found."

(Two: you are stubborn when it comes to knowledge.)

(You have been researching your home since the very year you forgot it, learning until you forgot, and relearning it all over again until it sticks. Some of it has, and you are immensely glad- but the things that didn't made you very adept at circling out the important parts of what you see, or read, or learn, which in turn was very beneficial in fighting tricky Sadness or gaining more specific clues to where the Orbs were.)

"Dile!!" Bonnie calls out somewhere on your right, painting with exhaustion from running all over Dormont in the ten minutes they were gone. In the periphery of your eye you see Odile snap her attention at them in an instant; their voice gets swallowed halfway through by the buzzing of your skull, but you still get to hear their report: "I checked the flower shop and fields and clocktower again and asked the guys on the rock but no one saw Za after he went away!! And- and-"

(Three:)

"And there are no Orbs!!!"

You hear Odile take a sharp inhale. Mirabelle makes a choked noise from behind her hand, like something is stuck in her throat. Even you feel a pang of what you may as well call horror.

Bonnie's voice wobbles as they explain that, when you were away, someone ransacked your stuff, taking away the Orbs and tonics, leaving things askew. From the way they describe it, though, the precision was too keen for it be someone who doesn't know exactly what they're looking for, or where to find it — only the necessity was taken. Crafted Water, Pepper, Thyme. Notably no Ginger disappeared, like it wasn't even remotely needed.

The wind blows in your face, bringing a sharp sting of a smell you can't quite name. Your gaze is glued to the House.

(You know what you know.)

You all know who took them.

You do not hear what Odile says over the sudden howling in your ears, but Mirabelle's voice rises several octaves at once and barely manages to tear through. "He wouldn't!!" She argues, voice dangerously close to real tears. "He wouldn't, he- he's-"

Odile's tone is sharper than it ever was before. "I do not want to think of him like that either, but then what will we do? He's still unaccounted for, and nowhere to be found. He either deserted, betrayed us, or-"

"Za wouldn't!! Even if we got into a bad fight he wouldn't!!!!!"

"Boniface-"

The smell grows stronger. Stronger, stronger, stronger. It invades your mind, overtakes your thoughts, claws at your brain with nails sharp as knives. You can't focus on the argument that gains both volume and momentum; everything stinks of something, like it's smeared all over your face. The air is stale with it, compressed, hard to inhale or exhale. There's a comparison on your tongue, so close, so close, if only you could-

"Madame, enough!"

You wish you could-

"Stop trying to sugarcoat it, Mirabelle!"

(There are several fundamental things that you are certain of, but most important is the most obvious.)

You nearly gasp aloud. It's almost funny how such a small thing makes everything click into place.

(You were taught Wish Craft since you were a wee-baby, barely able to walk. You were raised into it, breathed it, lived it. It's part of you as much as your absent memories of how you did so.)

Sugar. You've been smelling sugar all day — in the library, in the clocktower, and especially on Isabeau. Tacky like syrup, awful and sweet to the point of being bitter. Molasses in every breath, rotting fruit between your fingers, overpowering every other smell yet unnoticeable unless you really focus. It's been itching at the back of your head, tidbit for you to pay attention, hot brand on your thoughts now.

(You know what you know.)

He's in the House. The House that is strange, warped, and not in the way, you think, it's supposed to be warped.

(You recognise Wish Craft for what it is when it's presented before you, and especially how truly dangerous it is.)

He's in the House, whose roof is askew at an impossible angle, half floating in the air. Whose windows are all different shades of wrong. Walking halls you've never seen before. Fighting Sadness, finding keys, tearing down the foundation of that building brick by brick. Most likely going to go toe-to-toe with King soon.

You ignore the way everyone behind you yelps when your cloak hits the ground. You ignore the indent in the ground, you ignore the choked call of your name, you ignore the wind's howl, you ignore the stink of sugar, you ignore.

The smell of sweets, — worryingly, — becomes even stronger.

(You don't know what he wished for, but this amount of craft is immense.)

Everything.

(Isa is in danger.)

Your fingers snap and you're gone like a released arrow.

this is also cross posted on ao3 :333!!!

What if during Traveler Isa's act 5 Sif leaves the cloak at the clock tower just out of a sheer rush to get to Isa

Bold of you to assume Siffrin would've left every single one of his belongings at the clocktower the moment he realizes where Isa is >:3c But for real. You sparked an UNHOLY amount of inspiration in me this evening. My hand hurts, but it was worth it! I think!!! thank you! and curse you for hitting me with the creativity brick to the back of my head on my weekend break

[ffjj5]

Its been a while Jikookers, but let me tell you why...

Just a warning this post will talk about grief and death, so if you aren't in a place to want to read that right now please scroll past 💜

On October 11th my world changed and I am still working out how to be in it without my best friend. I have never felt loss and pain like I do right now but I am surrounded by amazing friends and family who will help me work this shit out. My beautiful friend of 20+ years died after a very short time in Neuro ICU following a burst brain aneurysm. No warning, just walking home from lunch with a friend on the 3rd October and she collapsed in the street, she never regained consciousness and died peacefully surrounded by her siblings, children and mum 8 days later on 11th October.

It's the little things I am struggling with, the coffee dates on my days off, the messages she would send just to say 'love you' and ask how your day was, the random phone calls because she was putting off gardening or housework, the messages to say have lovely trip the day before or after you went as she always got the date wrong, but she never forgot the important dates and would spend her last pound to get you a card to celebrate.

One of the reasons for me posting on here is because I want to recognise how being part of this fandom and being a Jikooker has had a profound impact on my grieving during this time. In life some people come along and impact on your life in a way they may never understand because you can't find the right words to tell them, but even from thousands of miles away their words bring you strength and comfort, a hug in the form of a voice message. Part of me working through this shitty grieving process has been to just say what is in my head into my phone and send the message to this person, with no expectation of a reply or words of wisdom, but she has never let me down. Even if its just to say 'keep going, it will get better', she has never allowed me to feel unheard.

So @dgtn please stand up and accept your virtual hug, until I can give you one in person 😊

A week ago we had a ceremony and celebration of life for my friend and it was beautiful, the sun shone, we cried, we laughed ( she loved to laugh and was always making us laugh) and I started on the next part of my grief journey, to learn to live without her but never forgetting her.

Everyday is a new day and some are harder than others, work is either a blessing of a distraction, or a curse, as my ability to deal with stress and the stupidity and pettiness of the general public is better some day then others. My work colleagues have been beyond amazing and the love and support they have given me has been beyond anything I could imagine. But I know my friend would be shouting at me to live my life now as it is too damn short and can be gone in an instant, so that is what I am doing. Next year is busy, first K-pop concert (Ateez, don't get me started on how excited I am), West end theatre show, and the icing on the cake is a trip to Niagara falls and NYC in March! Not to mention the impending BTS concert when that pesky military service is over for all our guys.

Music is an important part of my life and BTS' music has helped me massively, I have cried to it, I have sung my heart out to it, and I have sat in silence and just listened to it and taken comfort from their lyrics.

One song which has seen me do all three is Zero o clock, so what better way for me to sign off than with this...

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Well if given how the anime will adapt the Manga, it makes me wonder about the savanaclaw adaptation given how many delays due to the artist's personal life that octavinelle Manga came around and is now have overblot Chapter before Savanaclaw does. I wonder if the author will have time to finish it and given how heartslabyul will release in October 2025, it might take awhile to animate savanaclaw.

[Referencing this news!]

Decided to put these together because the topics were similar enough and I have similar advice for both asks. To briefly clarify the second ask, I believe the Anon made a typo and meant to say "Yana Toboso was NOT involved in the anime's production". This is because Yana made a tweet recently stating that she and her team were surprised and honored that they were making an anime adaptation based on the manga.

Now, about the first ask: we are not aware of what the manga and anime creation process looks like for Twst. Yes, the Savanaclaw manga has had a number of delays, but we cannot be sure if this impacts the anime at all. For example, we don't know how much of the Episode of Savanaclaw anime is even done yet. We don't know if the anime team is going to be in talks with the mangaka to coordinate things. We don't know when the Episode of Savanaclaw will air (and for all we know, it could give the mangaka ample time to finish up). There are many things we do not know, so it would be VERY hasty to conclude anything now.

Regarding the second ask: Yes, it does seem like Yana had no involvement in the anime. This, however, should NOT be taken as an immediate sign that the anime will be poor quality or that the anime will deviate from the main story in large (and bad) ways. Nothing of the news we've heard so far would indicate any sweeping changes. This is equating a past occurrence with something that has yet to even happen without even knowing if the production circumstances are even the same between them. The only thing we know that is linking the animes of early Black Butler and Twst is Yana's lack of involvement. This doesn't account for ANY other factors in production, and it's also assuming that Yana's mere presence makes a product good--and, conversely, her absence automatically makes a product bad. I don't think this is the way to go, as it's jumping to conclusions based on minimal evidence and it's putting way too much weight on Yana's shoulders to carry the quality of the Twst anime.

And that brings me to the thread linking together not just these two asks, but a lot of the anime-related posts and asks that I've been seeing as of late: fearmongering and doomposting. Lots of it.

As I’ve said multiple times now, it's fine to be hesitant about the anime. I'm hesitant of it myself! However, let’s not draw preemptive conclusions or fret over what are ultimately hypotheticals. It’s so far off, and we have zero of the actual final product to look at and judge the quality of. I'm seeing so many people make mountains out of molehills, working themselves up over nothing, assuming the worst-case scenarios... 💦 and again, all of this based on little to no information. I can't help but that time and energy could be better spent on other fandom efforts or things we actively enjoy. It's valid to be anxious about the anime and how it presents something we care so much about, but putting those feelings in a public space paints the fandom in a bad light. It gives the impression that we'll jump the gun and claim something is bad before letting the product speak for itself. If you're a current Twst fan that is excited for the anime, it may not feel so good seeing others theorizing about how bad it will be. If you're a potential new Twst fan seeing this stuff, you'd feel very unwelcome or unwanted. I worry this will fester and create divides in the community... unintentionally creating an environment that isn't fun to be in, and that's the antithesis of what I think fandom should be. I guess I'll end on this note: There is a difference between being healthily skeptical and assuming the worst of a production. Please take a moment to reexamine your concerns about the anime and ask yourself "Is this a reasonable fear?", "What am I basing this off of?", and, "How, if at all, will this affect my own enjoyment of Twst?" If it gets to be too much for you, then please, please step away from social media (where a lot of these fears are being touted) and take a break. Do something you like, take a walk, whatever. I just beg of you, don't allow yourself to be consumed by feelings that will bleed the fun of fandom out of you 💦

[goreybaby]

this is the fandom i was referring to in my previous post lmao. but yeah. this. literally this.

jimmy did awful things, but there's no reason for people to literally shun him from their vocabulary, etc. it's immature, it's stupid. you can hate a character, hate the things they did, but when artists are too scared to draw him, write his name or discuss him in any way that is not direct hate, then you suck lol. you're censoring this fandom and pretty much belittling mouthwashing's masterful intent along with its various messages.

the main villain in mouthwashing is pony express. they hired a woman who was not qualified to do her job to assess real people who exhibit symptoms of debilitating mental illness, all because they do not care enough about their staff to do things correctly and safely. they are neglectful to their workers.

throughout the game, the player is constantly bombarded with posters alluding to the repercussions the crew members will face if they go against some very trivial rules.

evidently, jimmy is suffering from some kind of severe mental illness. he has hallucinations, acts in brash, violent ways, and is very detached from all the other crew members. in his psych eval, he claims he has a sexual attraction to cartoon horses — a completely inappropriate and unusual claim, something no sane person would even entertain saying.

jimmy was not given the psychological help he needed to improve. the devs even stated that the ship purposely has little to no windows to enhance the claustrophobic feel — no doubt would this affect someone suffering from whatever illness it is he is forced to endure, where hallucinations are prevalent.

while, of course, what he did to anya was vile and deplorable, if pony express was able to tend to jimmy's mental distress and actually hire someone who knows what they're doing, there is a chance this might not have happened.

now onto curly: people who claim he is at fault for not telling anyone about jimmy, or that he did not act soon enough.

for one, the time between curly finding out about anya's assault and the crashing of the ship was 24 hours. 24 hours of hearing that one of your crewmates has just been violently assaulted by your best friend. it is jarring, he needs time to process, and anya is clearly not someone who can handle high-tension situations well. so, him approaching jimmy and demanding he take responsibility would not only cause her more distress, but may also entice her abuser to react violently towards her. and ultimately, it did: he tried to find the gun after finding out about the pregnancy, and when that was not doable, he decided to crash the ship instead.

curly had to handle this situation with care. he needed time. more time. but he didn't have enough.

on the poster "Polle says lend a hand!" the small print reads: HR complaints about poor team synergy may result in collective punishment.

had curly established an even bigger problem by confronting jimmy, everyone, including anya, would have suffered the consequences. he needed to think about the best way to go about this for everyone, and especially for her, but again, he had no time.

think... pony express, the ultimate villain of the game, would have been willing to punish the victim for coming out about her assault.

look at the bigger picture. stop looking at characters as one dimensional, or as their faults. the entire crew has so much depth, they aren't meant to be taken at face value.

and seriously!! you're allowed to admire characters for their writing and still hate their actions; you can still pity a character who did something immoral.

alright, friends, i might say something you don't like but i think it's important. not just to defend a character, but because i think this is literally making people's experience and relationship with this game worse.

give jimmy like two seconds to exist.

by hating jimmy so much you refuse to even say his name, and judge real, living people for liking him, you are cheapening your experience by boiling down the main character to the most ~yuckiest~ moments. and, by not making a seperate space for hating on him, you are drowning out the voices of people who actually have nuanced things to say about his character. you know, the skilled writers and artists that feed the fandom? limitation is what kills fandoms, you have to know that.

is jimmy a good person? no. is he a good captain/companion/worker? Absolutely Not! he crumbles like dust under any pressure and he immediately shifts blame off of himself, he is an actively harmful individual and it's right to be upset by his actions. i literally had to stop myself from saying "man FUCK jimmy." multiple times because i didn't want to spoil how terrible he got to my friends when i showed the game to them.

but you have to understand; people are more than their actions. thats part of the entire point of the game. thats why its so abstract. you are meant to think about the nuances of their situation.

we can agree that anya was way more as a woman than what happened to her and what she did as a result of it, right? that despite her best efforts, she was a victim of circumstance, and she deserves to be understood and analyzed fully?

then why, seeing a fictional man who has done immoral things, are you so disgusted you won't even draw, write or discuss him outside of hate? what is that doing for you, to ignore literally the main character of the game because of his actions?

now, this is not to say people can't hate jimmy. i understand it! as someone who has been a victim of s/a and abuse, i understand if you hate him and are even triggered by him to the point of avoiding mention of him. (but...why are you in this fandom? ((not aggressive im genuinely asking)))

you can feel however you want about any character, my goal is not to control people. but i thought it was common knowledge to not hatepost about someone in their tag? over actual insight into his character and, you know, the main themes of the game?

jimmy is a man who has struggled his whole life. both him and curly confirm that in the game. he's unable to control his emotional outbursts, and he likely had no idea what to expect from being in fucking SPACE for over a year with people he probably didn't even know before that trip. and pony express and their corporate safety corner cutting certainly didnt help, did it?

for one reason or another, he most likely was never actually taught how to manage his emotions. that's just how it is sometimes, growing up as a man. and it would make sense if he was forced to deal with everything himself, no? he always complains, but he still says he'll handle it. because that's what he's always had to do. and this is just the start of what i could say about what made him the way that he is.

he's a victim too, not only of his own actions.

surprise surprise, people who do awful things can also be victims.

honestly, this entire situation baffles me. how are you going to avoid one of the main characters of the game, let alone the one you play as ninety percent of the time? mind you, curly is also guilty, and i am happy to see at least some people giving him space for nuance. because he is also a victim!!! why is it so impossible to see jimmy as nuanced, when literally every other character also has incredible depth to them??

you're tarnishing and spitting on the beautiful writing of this game just because one character is too icky for you to feel comfortable thinking about for too long. it's horror, you absolute morons. it's supposed to make you uncomfortable.

if you hate jimmy, i dont blame you. but please, please, make your own space for it. be kind to people who want to explore jimmy and the darker themes, and like him for what his character represents. this is a video game fandom, not a witch hunt. and please, learn some fandom etiquette while you're at it, okay? okay. thank you

also just say his name. its not a slur youre not gonna go to hell if you say jimmy. like this isn't as important but still it just feels like a microcosm of this whole thing.

[misssakuramochi]

A SENKU x READER DRABBLE

Synopsis: Normally, you're perfectly happy to idle away at Senku's side as something of an assistant, helping wherever he might need you. It's not until a few hard-hitting comments by the campfire that you start to think you might be overcrowding your favourite scientist.

Requested by: A Lovely Anonymous Requester

Request: 'I am sorry I am distrubing you but do you open for request now? I apologize if Iam impolite but if yes, can I request drabble of senku x reader (dr.stone) where reader is a clingy person who follow Senku everywhere and do things Senku ask that are within her ability. Reader love language is physical touch though doesn't show it to Senku because afraid of annoying him. Basically , How do you think Senku will react if Reader suddenly doesn't cling to him anymore because afraid of annoying him.'

Age Rating: N/A

Warnings: Topics of insecurity and self-doubt

Genre: Fluff, Hurt/Comfort

There was no way to sugar coat it, or any more flattering way to splice it; you were, for better or for worse, clingy. You knew it - Senku knew it - everyone knew it. It wasn’t a secret you exactly tried to keep hidden. Mindful as you tried to be of others social energy and where it might not align with yours, you couldn’t help but find your days more enjoyable when you had those you cared for at your side to enjoy them with you. It wasn’t always romantic - you tended to cling to your friends, too, often finding yourself craving the company of some manner of companion over the entertainment of your own thoughts. Of course, that wasn’t to say it was entirely unromantic either. Once the spark of attraction was lit, you couldn’t help but crave the attention of the person who interested you most over that of anyone else. So, once you had finally realized just how much you had come to like Senku, you had begun to find it hard to keep yourself apart from him.

Very much contrary to yourself, Senku wasn’t a person for such sentiments. He had a goal in mind, and if he wanted to finish it in time to see it come to fruition he had a lot to get done. For better or for worse he was level-headed, practically minded, and extremely logical. If spending time with someone would take away from his goals, he wasn’t going to be inclined to do it nearly so often, enjoy their company or not.

Drawbacks as they may have had, the machinations of Senku’s mind were something you’d come to love about him. His over-logical, straightforward responses often triggering fondness in your chest where others may have faltered under his blunt-faced words. Respect his nature as you might, though, none of that stopped you from wanting to spend time with him. So, you resolved ever-simply to make yourself useful.

It wasn’t as though that was a particularly tedious goal for you to start. It had always been important to you to be useful, to help the people you cared for however you might be able to. After the world’s descent into stone it was more important now than ever to work together, anyway, so helping Senku rebuild what was lost hardly seemed to be any sort of burden.

Before long you’d earned yourself the honorary title of Senku’s loyal assistant. Though it was a name first given to you in jest by Gen, who’d opted to poke a little fun at you for your ever-obvious feelings for your mad scientist of a leader (and he had been chastised rather quickly by Senku for it) it hadn’t taken too many more days of you following around after Senku to help with whatever work he happened to find for himself for the nickname to catch on. 

It had embarrassed you at first, a little, to be called out so bluntly for the way you followed Senku about, admittedly a bit like a lost puppy. But, behind the teasing words were kind smiles and supportive friends, and soon you’d settled into the moniker. Once you’d begun to take the jabs with teasing pride Senku’s disdain for them all but seemed to disappear, the joke becoming commonplace.

A loud voice pulled you from your reminiscence and a slight inclination of your head brought Yo into view, arms waving enthusiastically above his head as he beckoned you to join the group he sat with at the fireside.

“Yo! It’s [Name]! Rare to see you out of the lab. Senku finally pass out on his paperwork?” The bellowing laughter that came to follow would have told you Yo was drunk even without the wafting smell of stone-age alcohol that coated him like overapplied cologne, hitting you like a wall as you came closer. Still, rambunctious as he got, he wasn’t… bad, exactly. So, even as a bulky arm wrapped around your shoulders and pulled you into a sloppy, sideways hug, you just gave Yo an awkward smile.

“Oh, no, he just told me I should take a break. We’ve been working since lunch so I thought maybe I’d bring him someth--”

“Ahhh, that’s rough!” Yo’s sudden exclamation took you by surprise, especially as one dramatic arm (the one that wasn’t still holding you in a drunken embrace) raised to hold his brow, lips downturned in a deep frown, “No wonder you came to grab a drink, eh? You! Go get them a double.” Though you initially met Yo’s apparent sympathy with blank-eyed confusion, the solemn nods of the others around the fire had your brow slowly curving in concern. While the agreement of Yo’s men was questionable, even Magma and Mantle were nodding along as if witnessing some unspoken tragedy that you, despite being the star of, had yet to be informed about.

“Can’t say I blame him though. A man needs some space every now and again.” Magma’s shrug, heavy but dismissive as he threw a clean-gnawed bone into the fire, put together the missing pieces for you.

“Hey, don’t feel bad. Don’t get me wrong, Senku’s a good guy but he’s like. Weird, you know? Here, don’t beat yourself up.” Though Yo seemed to pick up on your shift in mood as your face fell, and you knew he was well intentioned as he pushed the drink he’d had one of his subordinates fetch you towards your face, but the acidic smell of alcohol against your nose burned like insult on top of injury, and as your mind swirled in new-found paranoias you found your feet moving, quickly untangling from Yo’s light grip as you found yourself needing to be anywhere else.

“Um, sorry I’m not really thirsty. I have something I need to take care of, so…” Polite as ever you tried not to trip over yourself as you made your exit, struggling to keep your voice even over the lump aching in your throat. Too distracted to catch the way Yo turned to chastise Magma, you found your thoughts all-encompassing, your walk back to the small hut that served as your sleeping quarters a blur of whirling emotion and the strained effort to hide it.

You had been trying, for a long time, to tell yourself that you weren’t a bother. There were others in the village who were stronger than you, smarter than you, more dexterous and more inventive. But, you had always told yourself that none of that mattered. Maybe you couldn’t be as intelligent and persistent as Senku and his unwavering spirit; maybe you couldn’t be as quick to learn and improvise as Chrome; maybe you couldn’t be as fast as Kohaku, as strong as Magma, as charismatic as Gen, but if you could just be useful, it didn’t matter. If you could just help everyone, anyone, in whatever way you could, you had told yourself that that would be enough. But, maybe you were a liar. Maybe all of that, all of those thoughts, were nothing more than an elaborate way to free yourself of the guilt of trying to steal all of Senku’s time away for yourself; of being deeply, whole-heartedly selfish. Were you even trying to help him, anyone else, at all? Or did it just benefit you?

It would be those thoughts that kept you paralyzed for the next week. Each temptation to find Senku, to check in on his progress or see if he might be in need of a hand, was met with the icy thought that he may very well prefer that you didn’t. Hesitation held a cold grip on your heart, squeezing when you pictured the confrontation. If you asked Senku if you were a bother, you knew he wouldn’t lie to you. While Senku’s honesty usually made you feel safe, right now you couldn’t help but admit that it scared you. And so, you found yourself spending your days shying away from the lab you’d spent the last several months in, time spent with the others keeping you sated and perhaps sane as they drove away the chattering demons of self-doubt. Living to keep the demons at bay led you into a pattern of monotony, empty-eyed and unenthused as you painted on a smile you knew wasn’t as convincing as you wanted it to be. Still, it was better than being a burden.

It was the final evening after your week of reclusion that you finally felt something other than cold emptiness and choking depression; hysterical terror. Though, this stint of horror was blessedly short lived.

When the end of your work days came you had, as of late, found yourself longing for the thoughtless bliss of sleep almost desperately. Shrugging free of your clothes as you walked into the mud and straw building you’d come to call home you’d drop into a bed of straw and wait for the darkness to come. It had become such a standard routine that, when it was broken, you thought yourself viable to have a heart attack. Stepping into a dark home and hanging the leather overcoat that kept you warm through the change of seasons and seeing movement in the dark would have been enough to set you on edge; the lighting of your bedside candle from across the room made you scream.

“Wh-- hey, it’s me! Calm down!” Standing at the opposite end of your hut, illuminated now in the flickering orange of candlelight, Senku had the audacity to look annoyed by your reaction to his break-in. As you stared at his familiar, flat expression you found your fear begin to ebb - only for it to flow back as your eyes caught the shadow cast on the wall. In the unsteady light of a tiny flame his hair swirled in angry shadows behind him, limbs overlong and twitching; Senku, and the version of him you’d been so afraid to face. It didn’t look like he was going to let you run anymore, either.

“What are you doing in my room?” Senku’s frown only dipped as you posed your question, eyes locking with yours with a stern hardness that told you he wasn’t here to play games with you.

“You’ve been avoiding me.” Seeing you open your mouth to protest Senku raised and hand and continued, not giving you the opportunity to defend yourself; he didn’t want to waste time with the argument, “You’ve spent approximately 10 hours each day in the science lab working on projects with me each month up until last week - when you stopped coming altogether. You also haven’t been to any of the places you normally go, which means you’re avoiding whoever might look for you there.” Senku’s eyes dared you to challenge him, crossed arms speaking of his rigidity. Still, with your shoddy plans and simple intentions laid so plainly bare, it was hard to find any genuine argument.

“Well?” His simple response in the face of your downtrodden guilt snapped your eyes back from the floor to his, the casual, brow-quirked expression on his face only surprising you further. He hardly seemed upset - just impatient, perhaps as his hands found his hips and he inclined his head slightly towards you, “What did I do?”

This time your shock seemed to surprise him, too. Still, you couldn’t help your wide-eyed stare as, once again, the pieces clicked into place. You’d fit in the ones Magma had given you before, but you hadn’t stopped for even a moment to consider if they were even a part of the right puzzle. So overwhelmed with self-doubt and anxiety, you hadn’t stopped to see if they added to the right picture. While you’d been busy drowning yourself in your own tears, Senku had been trying to figure out how he’d upset you.

“N-no, Senku, it wasn’t--”

“Seriously, don’t bullshit me. If you’re mad at me I can’t fix it if--”

“Senku.” It wasn’t often that you spoke so softly and so genuinely, old habits of smiling to appease and speaking to placate carrying over even in this new world. It took Senku off guard to hear you speak his name that way, your smile somehow both guilty and earnest as you finally crossed the room to stand closer to your friend.

“I mean it. You didn’t do anything.” As his eyes pushed you for explanation you found yourself becoming bashful, gaze escaping his as nervous hands began to play with grown out strands of your hair as if you'd find an excuse less embarrassing than the truth within their tresses, “I just got worried that I was bothering you so I decided to give you some space.”

Senku’s eyes, narrowed as his lips pursed to push out a small hum, told you that explanation wasn’t quite enough for him - he could tell there was more, and he wasn’t about to let you go with any unspoken turmoils. Not after he’d gone through all the effort of learning your ever-changing schedule to corner you just to address them.

“Yeah? Who told you that?” The way your shoulders stiffened at the question told Senku immediately that he’d hit the right nail, and rather directly. It made him pause, for just a moment, thinking about how you specifically must have felt being made to think of yourself as burdensome; he was quick to sigh off the dull ache it caused in his chest, shrugging to himself. He’d found you and cleared the issue, which he supposed was all that really mattered now.

“Yo and Magma said that maybe… I should give you… space…” Senku had finally been ready to let it go when you opted to answer. The way he looked at you as you spoke, though, took away what little steam you’d had starting the sentence. Mouth having cocked ever so slightly ajar as brows flattened and eyes focused in on you, Senku’s reaction to this information was obvious. It did little to ease your embarrassment when his words came out to echo what his face already spoke clearly.

“You took advice from Yo and Magma?” Despite himself Senku found a grin quirking his lips as your cheeks tinged pink, pouting over your light-hearted embarrassment at having your actions laid bare so logically. As you began to whine about his assessment, Senku found himself unable to hold back a laugh. He couldn’t deny that you were cute.

“Look.” The sudden serious shift to Senku’s tone took you off guard once more, pout-protruded lips parting as you snapped back to genuine attention, “You don’t bother me. If I needed more time to myself I’d just say that.” Though the casual way he scratched at his ear feigned ease, you knew he was trying to settle your nerves.

“Besides,” Senku’s grin turned sharper as his voice took on a teasing lilt, fingers raising to give your cheek a teasing pinch, “who’s going to test out all of our experiments if I don’t have my assistant with me, huh?” As often as others had referred to you as Senku’s assistant, he’d never admitted it himself; hearing the words from his mouth made your heart clench and you moved despite yourself as your arms came to wrap around Senku’s waist, pulling him in for the hug you’d been aching to give him for ages.

Much as Senku groaned a mild complaint about the overly-emotional contact he made no move to resist you, fighting only the smile that threatened to show his thoughts more honestly on his lips than he wanted, for the moment. Rather, he allowed you your moment, reciprocating by means of a somewhat stiff hand resting atop your head.

“If you’re worried about something just talk to me about it. That makes the most sense.” Even under the light chastisement you just smiled, nodding into the loose leathers of Senku’s clothes. You’d spent more than enough time to find comfort in his bluntness, knowing he had just as much told you not to be stupid next time as he had told you that he was there to support you, and he didn't want you hesitating to rely on him.

“Thanks, Senku.”

“Yeah.” A soft scratch to your hair made you hold tighter, and Senku was quick to take to surprise.

“You can let go of me now.”

“One more minute.”

“Eh?!”

xxxxxxxxxxx

A/N: Hello Anon! Please do not worry, my requests are open and I am always happy to have more things to write! You were not rude at all. Thank you for your request. I hope you like how it turned out!

As always, thank everyone else who took the time to read as well, and I hope you enjoyed just the same.

Safe travels, readers!

[witchofthesouls]

I'm going to follow up on the fantasy-horror thoughts to be expanded Transformers, so-

Medical/Biological Horror

I haven't really seen takes about established Cybertronian medical biology and the complications with the "humans into Cybertronians" trope.

Like we see the heavy emphasis on T-cogs across the iterations and how it's deeply connected to independence, identity, and person-hood, so how about an ex-human that lacks a T-cog?

Ironically, T-cogs have a lot of emphasis on that particular organ is similar to human hearts in terms of emotional, cultural, physical, and physical capabilities and significance. Similar to how humans are capable of donating hearts to others, Cybertronians can perform an equivalent procedure with T-cogs. (On a related side note, the phenomenon of 'cellular memory' has to be extremely appalling to the mechanical species. Not in the sense of upcycling parts, but in the sense that the organs, frame, and equipment still retain the echos of the last person to the point that it influences the new body.)

Imagine that once human inside a medbay as the medics tutted and sadly inscribe their new medical file about their new monoformer status. What a shame, they said. They could have been an excellent addition to (insert whatever frame kibble visible that correlates to a function), they said. Poor thing! With that kind of extrasensory equipment, they'll be a walking target, they said.

So that monoformer with no kibble or those visible beastformer traits without the means to completely escape... What. A. Shame.

Until a random Cybertronian sees that monoformer casually wheeling around with heelies. It's easy to wave away as a reinvention of training wheels, but then they notice those heelies disappear back into the monoformer's frame. The ex-human still has no T-cog. Sweat breaks out because said ex-human had done the fucking impossible.

They're paying closer attention now. They're seeing little micro-transformations happening. The subtle signs of a frame shifting to accommodate an area or space, the way fingertips would sharpen too easily with a file or with a raw cut as a tip is used to scrape away at something, the seams expanding and contracting, so something is happening, they just can't tell...

While this can overlap with the body/psychological horror aspect, I say we should take it more extreme. There had been takes with dysphoria, particularly with the play between mechanical parts and human organs, the differences in senses, and if 'sticky sexual interfacing' is part of it, then sexual hardware of both sets.

However, what about acceptance? The exploration of feeling truly at home in your own new skin? Even if it's high-tech and something out of a sci-fi film/video game with a platform that's incomprehensible because you don't understand the language it uses, but guess what? You can download a packet to fully comprehend a new language. You may not be fluent or comfortably at ease with speaking, but you can read and understand what's being said. A possibility of delving into human disabilities that translate into something easily curable or nonexistent or have well-established accommodations in a Cybertronian framework. Something like hormonal disorders or gastrointestinal issues due to upset gut biome would be wiped clean. Poor/limited eyesight can be compensated with a visor that can't be easily removed or taken away or the additional sensors that provide environmental data. Cybertron has a form of sign language with chirolinguistics where communication is done "by stimulating the nervecircuits in the fingers, wrist and palm of their conversational partner. It seems to be fairly common to know at least a little hand." TFWiki page And it pairs well with internal comms that double as cell phones or an unique user on platform where a Cybertronian can live chat or text another.

A massive tradeoff for this kind of comfort? You now have a visible soul.

Think about it, your soul can be directly handled, as in someone can physically go mess with your most distilled sense of self.

Humanity had long debated the existence of it via philosophy, spiritually, scientifically as well. The heart is the most recent popular choice, but major historical contenders had been the stomach and the mind as well as arguments of the soul isn't found in one specific organ but rather the bridge between them.

People swear by souls and the afterlife. There are many myths and legends that involve souls. Even the most doubtful had been deeply raised in a cultural framework of the concept via media usage, figurative speech, religious imagery, and depictions in art.

That has to be the most mind-blowing and deeply unsettling reality a former human must accept.

I see the comparisons of sparkeaters to vampires as they both prey on the living, but the more apt description should be the product of Harry Potter with Dementors as those Dark creatures eat souls.

So this touches on another genre-

Supernatural Horror

Human adaptability combined with the Earth transformation myths/magic would deeply terrify modern Cybertronians as those new cybered beings don't fit the established medical reality they function with.

This can easily tie very well with expanding Cybertronian folklore of otherworldly beings of their version of fae, demons, spirits, or yōkai. Beautiful, terrible beings that mimick Cybertronians too well... unless to look closer: the shadow missing or not matching (can be tied to Unicron), conflicting kibble, EM fields too wild with a chaotic rhythm no one else can match, colors that change to suddenly, a strange wardrobe (made of deaf creatures) that ripples and warps without a breeze, an mechanimal with too much intelligence glittering in its optics...

I'm not even fully delving into the rampant chaos of ex-humans having a host of adaptations suited for tolerating far more ranges of environmental stress and disease-resistance due to the rapid evolution by organic life compared to Cybertronian fauna. Remember, humans are animals. Highly intelligent apex predators that specialize in endurance/persistent pursuit with strong social and communal behaviors, and the cleverness to suit the environment from aquatic to deserts to wetlands to forests to grasslands to tundra. Humanity found ways to not just survive but to thrive in those biomes.

This opens a potential storyline where cybered humans become Cybertron's extremophiles, so that can easily translate into those beings capable of manipulating their own selves to a multitude of frames and shapes.

The example above with the human to monoformer was a show in how transformation mechanisms could be different between the species. If T-cogs are an inherently modern Cybertronian biological trait, then cybered!Earth natives should be either throwbacks or have another approach to it.

And that's the more muted fuckery, but what about straight-up transformations that were deemed unthinkable? Where unnatural formations keep twisting upon themselves, collapsing just to rise higher and higher? The sudden appearance of not one or two extra limbs, but dozens, even hundreds without a sequence as they try to compute how the hell they pull all that mass from nowhere? Armor plating, sure and steady, then turning into a substance that swallows everything and anything as a solid becomes a liquid.

The repression technology may or may not even work as it targets the frame's T-cog. What can it do to a mecha that doesn't have one?

Another aspect overlooked is the animal-human relationship in domestication of wild animals or how communities form symbiotic relationships with different kinds of wild fauna. Combined humanity's collective love for highly dangerous creatures... Wouldn't it be absolutely sick as hell if cyber!human got a sparkeater as their companion? It's still a wild 'animal,' not a fully tame one like a domesticated animal, so they're trying to tedtalk on a human's approach to curating a stable relationship with a predatory species while the rest of the Cybertronians are basically dead-white from sheer fright.

Or on the opposite yet equally delightful spectrum of said exhuman caring for orphaned creatures that reminds them of human pets (like a bunny or a mouse), but those 'cute babies' usually cause massive structural damage to city-states and a known mech-killer. Something like a Scraplet (because, let's be real, deep in your heart, you know a person that would try to keep it as a pet and succeed at it), so their tedtalk about behavioral training, 'reasonable precautions,' and emotional/physical fulfillment is filled with scientists who's curiosity (slightly to completely) overtakes any sense of self-preservation.

[spicyicymeloncat]

Saw two posts recently and I disagreed with them for the same reason and that is, y’all better not be falling into the pit of dissing things bc they’re not “sophisticated” enough for you or something.

Like someone complaining about cutesy wutesy terms or like stupid fanfic writing. Some people be saying stuff like ‘no! You have to like real books! Only use real words to describe yourself!’ Who are you? The cringe police?

Actually the colloquialisation of language is kinda a complicated topic. Yeah we shouldn’t dumb down words and stuff when it comes to discussing serious things and we shouldn’t be calling anyone else things that they don’t want to be called. But if someone is using casual language to refer to themselves and they’re someone who can ‘reclaim’ (for lack of a better term) that language, then I don’t think it’s hurting anyone. Sometimes we need to use serious language and sometimes we don’t.

And let’s not make fun of hashtag weird fanfic or fandom (as long as it doesn’t actually promote harmful views or cause harm).

There’s obviously exceptions to both these points but my general rule is, let’s not attack things for the sake of ‘it’s weird’ or ‘different’. Being judgemental and shaming people to conform to arbitrary standards is the talking point of literally every single hate crimer. That mindset is used by ableists, racists, sexists, queerphobes etc etc. Lets not forget that.

[fragmentedblade]

I think I've become an official HI3 player. I check the HSR leaks hoping for iterations of HI3 characters now

[pa-pa-plasma]

kind of frustrating that people took "fat does not equal unhealthy" to mean "fat is not unhealthy." sometimes being obese IS unhealthy & excess fat can cause a lot of problems. ignoring health issues isn't progressive. real "oranges kill people with depression" moment

[dinosrawr]

To the poor friends that have watched me deteriorate a bit in the tags this month: I think I know what enhanced the pain so much this year. And now that I (think) I know, I'll be more capable of dealing with it. On my own, I mean. And not at 4am in Tumblr tags because I need to scream into the void.

[call-memissbrightside]

All I can think about is Katsuki dating someone with a baby—

His friends think it’s a bit odd since he’s in his early thirties and could still mess around before settling down but he’s not having it

You’re a bit nervous to tell him that you had a kid after a few dates, and you think he’s never going to hit you up again when he doesn’t really respond when you tell him, he just drops you off at your place with a emotionless look on his face.

You cry to yourself that night as you put your little girl to bed, and the two year old knows something’s wrong because she’s fussy through the whole night routine. You really liked Bakugou, he made you laugh and respect you but if he can’t accept your daughter than it's not going to work out.

Then the next morning he texts you that he got tickets for three to the local aquarium for the day. You call him, confused.

“That way we can take your daughter?” He’s confused by your question. “Why? Is she too little for the aquarium?”

You’re nervous as hell for him meeting Mai for the first time, but Katsuki is taken back at how your daughter looks just like you. She's adorable, and his stomach flipped taking in how you looked so beautiful in your jeans and simple shirt.

"Hi Mai, I'm Katsuki," He kneels down to the four year old's height but he's so big and the little girl immedietly burst into tears and hides behind your legs.

"Oh honey, it's okay," You coo at her, picking her up. Mai isn't convinced and hides away from Katsuki.

"I'm sorry, she'll warm up," You explain, but you weren't too sure. Mai had a shy personality, and was very attatched to you. You just hoped that Bakugou would be patient with her.

Mai started shedding her shy personality once you arrived at the aquarium.

"Mom, fish!" She yelled in excitement, tugging on your hand to get you to walk faster. Katsuki stands back and just watches you interact with your daughter. He knew he liked you, but seeing you be a mom did something to him and he imagined this being his life forever.

"What are you thinking about?" You asked when you noticed Katsuki seemed distracted.

He opens his mouth to answer but Mai interupts him when she squeals, "Mommy penguins!"

Katsuki was closer to her, and the little girl grabs his hand and drags him through to the penguin exhibit. Bakugou is taken aback, but quickly pushes back his fear of scaring her and kneels down to look at the penguins swimming as Mai squeals in excitement. She can’t pronounce his name correctly, so Mai just addresses him as ‘Suki which warms his heart.

It’s like a switch got flipped and Mai wouldn’t let go of Katsuki’s hand for the remainder of the tour through the aquarium. You stand back, smiling and snapping pictures, just watching as Bakugou showed a much softer side to him.

The day ended with Katsuki buying Mai the biggest stuffed penguin the aquarium store had, and the little girl could barely hold onto it as she fell asleep in her stroller.

“You didn’t have to get her that,” You said, feeling overwhelmed by his gesture.

Bakugou feels a string of anxiety pull in his stomach, wondering now if his actions were seemed as inappropriate.

“I-,” He tries to be truthful, “I’m sorry, I should’ve asked. Mai just seemed so happy and I wanted to get her something to remember me by.”

That melts your heart, and you kiss him on the cheek. “Thank you for being so sweet to my baby.”

Katsuki is blushing so hard, his ears are ringing as he helps you by packing down the stroller and putting it in the trunk while you tuck Mai into her car seat. The little girl was out, but still hugging her penguin.

Katsuki keeps the radio low as to not wake Mai as he drives you two home, holding your hand and already planning the next outing.

[eiightysixbaby]

older!eddie with reader who’s never taken a cock as big as his. he’s used to people telling him he’s too big, to go slow, that they can’t take it. and so he’s trying to be so careful with you, but you’re relentless in your determination to take him.

his fat, leaking tip presses inside, spreading you open as your jaw goes slack. he pushes maybe an inch or two in, but you’re so damn tight around him and he knows it has to be hurting you. he starts to ease up, to pull out a little, but your thighs lock around his waist, caging him desperately in.

“n-no, ed please. please don’t stop, keep going, need you to keep going,” you babble, your pretty eyes glossy as they plead with him.

“christ, sweetheart,” he grunts. “it’s hurtin’ you, don’t wanna hurt you.”

“i don’t care, please,” you beg, “can’t you feel how wet i am for you? need you so bad.”

he thinks he’s gone delirious with the things you’re saying, his tongue feeling like it’s going to flop out of of mouth, like he’s some dog drooling over a treat. he feels like a damn teenager, his hormones on overdrive. he can feel how wet you are, the hand that’s been gripping his shaft brushing against your slick folds to prove it.

“okay, okay, sweet thing. ‘m gonna take care of you,” he promises, his cock intruding further.

you’re whimpering pitifully beneath him, wriggling your hips for more friction, desperate to have more and unwilling to take no for an answer. he could split you entirely in two and it wouldn’t phase you. in his entire life he’s never had someone this needy for his cock, this hellbent on stuffing all of him inside, and he’s struck dumb at the fact that the person who is is you, this sweet young thing.

he can feel your walls clenching around him, relaxing and then tightening once more. “baby,” he pants, his nose brushing against your cheek as he presses a ghost of a kiss to the corner of your mouth. “you sure you can take it all? it’s okay if you can’t,” he reassures, but you’re frankly hearing none of it.

“eddie,” you whine. “I want it all, I’m gonna take it,” you insist. “please,” you sound as if you may cry, “just ruin me. don’t care if I can’t walk for days, give it to me.”

his head spins, his brow furrowing as he presses himself deeper, his cock snug inside of your warm walls. you cry out, biting down on his shoulder, nails digging into the tattooed skin of his back to brace yourself.

“god, you’re such a desperate little thing,” he says, his voice deep and hoarse, strained with the way he holds himself back from pounding into you.

you’re nearly sobbing when you speak again, “make it fit, ed, need it to.”

he finally secures himself all the way in, to the balls, leaning down to kiss your neck as your cunt throbs around him. “there you go, baby. that’s all of it. y’want me to make you cum around this cock?” he asks, the low rumble of his voice making you ache.

“yes,” you say softly, lip wobbling.

“what was that? couldn’t hear you, baby.”

“yes, eddie!” you cry, nearly aggressive in tone. “make me cum, over and over, don’t care if it fucking wrecks me.”

and it’s the last confirmation eddie needs before he makes you see stars.

[januaryembrs]

YOU'RE TOO SWEET FOR ME | Spencer Reid x Sunshine!Reader

Request: @avis-writeshq says -

HELLO HELLO jumping on your 2k celebration reqs because 2K OMG SO DESERVED ‼️🫶

may i perhaps request a spencer reid x fem!reader fic please 🥹 maybe him post prison w new reader and she follows him around everywhere because she’s just instantly enamoured to him 🤭

thank you so so much lovely and congrats again !!!

Description: thirteen years in the fbi and ten weeks in prison does a number on Spencer, only when he arrives back in the office he meets the sunshine rookie that seems rather taken with him.

word length: 2.6k (this really ran away from me)

warnings: post-prison Reid, slightest age gap, Spencer dealing with coming home from prison, gun shooting?

authors note: hozier’s new song 'Too Sweet' + post-prison reid is a need, not a want.

He smelled her french vanilla perfume before he even knew she was there. But then again, it was all he could smell the minute she waltzed into the office with a tray of coffee, like someone had stuck a sweet dessert in the oven and baked it on full. 

“Good morning!” She chirped, winding an arm over his shoulder and setting down a take out cup and a little chocolate donut on his desk, “Pen said you like chocolate, and I mean who doesn’t like chocolate, right?” 

She was potent when she was so close to him, and in one single breath he caught a whiff of her shampoo, before she had flitted over to her side of the desk that sat opposite his, where Morgan once sat. Noticing his hesitance, mistaking it for discontent she paused, almost spilling her own beverage over the potted plant she kept by her keyboard, scrambling to set it on the surface.

“Y-you do like chocolate right? I mean they had strawberry too, I can switch yours with JJ’s, I’m sure she wouldn’t mind-” She splurged, and her face was much too worried considering it was a matter of a donut, particularly considering he was already eying up the way the thick chocolate was melting in the pastry bag.

“Chocolate is great, I love…” He held up the bag to read the label with squinting hazel hues, “Cocoa Caramel delight,”

He had never heard of it.

He had never even seen this brand, but he wanted to quell her nerves even in the slightest. The BAU didn’t have the funds for a new keyboard, let alone time to send her to the ER if she ended up spilling her coffee over her hand. 

She seemed convinced, and he offered her a small smile, not exactly his most enthusiastic, but then again he hadn’t been much of a morning person since he’d come out of prison. He liked quiet, he liked a moment to himself before Penelope called them into the round table for briefing. But she was sweet, too sweet perhaps for the dark nature of their job. 

He could already see it chewing up her perky disposition and spitting her right back out within a year. It happened to the best of them.

But she smiled back at him, a million watt grin that made him think maybe he was being a little cruel. She was still brand new, still trying to make friends and he remembered how hard he tried when it had been his first few weeks on the team. He turned his gaze away from her in shame, reading the way she’d written his name on the cup in a pink sharpie, framing it with two doodle hearts. 

She all but skipped away, sensing he didn’t feel like talking much anymore, and he heard Emily exclaiming she was ‘A caffeine angel sent from the heavens,’ as she handed her the drink. He watched her braided hair disappear down the hall as she bounced over to Penelope’s lair. 

He picked at the cocoa caramel delight with a kind of self loathing he was familiar with, the french vanilla still a saccharine sugar in his nose. 

-

She caught him again; though this time he felt her bristle past his arm, watching the bullets pierce the target paper with an accuracy that only came from fourteen years of practice. 

“Do you reckon you could teach me how to do that?” Her cadence was light and airy, and he had to stop himself from jumping, from slamming the butt of the gun into her nose on reaction, because he knew she meant well, even though she had no idea how damaged he was.

He was still out of sorts from having to look over his shoulder at every second of the day, and he was surprised he was holding it together so far. He supposed shooting the shit out of a target helped.

Because it was just her, looking at him with soft eyes and a smile that could start wars, and he knew she had no idea the effect she had on the walls he’d tried so hard to build in prison. 

She must have mistook his look for annoyance, because she was quick to fumble with her own loaded gun, taking a step back in retreat, worried that she crossed some line she didn’t know he’d drawn.

“Or I could get Luke to show me, I didn’t mean to bother you, I just am really a shit shot and I know that’s pretty useless in the field-” It wasn’t until he flicked the safety on and took a step to follow her did she look at him again hopefully. 

“No, I’d be more than happy to show you,” He cleared his throat, setting his pistol in its holster and stepping behind her as she lined herself up for the fake body meant to resemble an unsub, “We all have to start somewhere. Show me your form,” 

She raised her arms up in front of her, aiming for a few seconds for the spot in the centre of the chest cavity, her finger reaching up for the trigger. 

She shot once, her face hardened for the first time he’d ever seen, and they both watched the paper rip about half a foot down the unsub’s leg. 

“See, in my head it’s hitting dead centre and then by the time I shoot it’s wiggling all over the place,” She explained, scratching her neck and frowning at the paper body, “I don’t suppose unsubs are willing to stand still and wait while the rookie figures out her shot,”

“Your hips are perfect, wide stance means you get more stability against the ricochet,” She tried not to simper at his words, or the way he sidled up behind her, his hands coming up to her shoulders as if he’d known her for years, as if JJ hadn’t told her how much he hated other people’s germs, “It’s in your shoulders you’re losing balance, try relaxing a little,”

But she couldn’t not when he was breathing down her neck, rubbing those long fingers over her shoulder blades trying to get her to straighten out her posture, hoping he couldn’t feel the way her chest rattled with nerves. 

“Relax,” He reminded, trying not to chuckle when he felt her shake her arms out as a means of hiding the way her skin had warmed under his rough touch, “You know, my unit chief taught me how to shoot. I wasn’t at all good at it when I first started,”

“Oh really?” She asked, her breaths feather light as he reached around her and adjusted her grip on the gun, “H-he must have been a good teacher,”

“He was the best,” Spencer agreed, brushing off the fact she was all but putty beneath his hands, “Three steps for the perfect shot; front sight, trigger press, follow through. Always keep your head forward, always keep your dominant finger ready, and wait until you’ve shot to drop your stance,” 

She looked up at him in admiration, and her soft smile was back as his own musk of laundry detergent and chamomile soap encompassed her as his arms did. 

He brought one of those big hands to the back of her head, moving her with gentle ease to look back at the target, a slight chuckle in his voice as he spoke: “Focus, what’s step number one?”

“Front sight,” She echoed him, fixing her shoulders with determination as he dropped his hands and stepped away from her. Taking a deep breath, she murmured to herself under her breath the next step as her forefinger rested over the trigger. She pulled it after a moment of courage, and froze in spot as she watched it hit where the stomach would sit. 

Not a perfect shot, but certainly a lot better than she had been doing. 

Her eyes widened behind the thick protective glasses, and her hands became fists above her head as she squealed in delight. 

“Did you see that- did you see!” She yelled over the sound proof ear muffs they both wore, and he was quick to grab the gun out of her swinging arms, clicking the safety on for her before she could end up blowing a hole in the ceiling. 

“Very good, give it a few months you’ll be a natural,” He complimented with a smile as she clapped her hands in glee, buzzing on the spot as if she’d chugged five energy drinks or doubled up on her coffee for the day. 

He tried ignoring the way his chest warmed seeing her so happy because of him, especially when she looked at him like that. 

--

“You said you needed those files, Dr Reid,” She’d appeared again, like she always did, and he had barely enough time to glance up from the paper he was already inspecting before he was hit by the perfume again, and he looked up to see two bright eyes watching him hopefully. Her arms were piled high with easily a box full of folders he had asked Anderson to find for him, and he saw the way she strained slightly to keep them held tight. 

“Jesus! Let me help you,” She prayed he couldn’t feel the way her heart thumping against the manilla folders as he leaned over to take them out of her grasp, the way her eyes fell to his light smattering of facial hair as his lips were little more than a few inches from hers. Even when his hands brushed hers, and he seemed to realise she was staring, watching her scramble to look somewhere else other than his amused eyes, embarrassed he’d caught her, “Thankyou. And just call me Spencer,” 

“Thankyou,” She echoed, shaking her head with a girlish smile on her face, her cheeks warm with humiliation, “I mean you’re welcome, any time,” 

For the sake of her self preservation he waited until she turned around to smile to himself, pretending he didn’t see the way she muttered under her breath, or that she almost walked straight into the filing cabinet on her hasty exit out of the office. 

“Seems like you have a shadow,” Emily’s voice met him as he heard her heeled footsteps approach, and they both watched their newest team mate almost bump right into JJ as she kept her head down, stroking her hair nervously, “She was super excited to meet you when you were away, said she went to one of your guest lectures you did with Hotch a couple years ago,”

His brows shot into his hairline, something warm flourishing in his chest when he saw her peek back to see the two of them watching her, and she immediately darted for her seat for an excuse to turn her back to them. 

Spencer smiled again, running a hand through his curled locks as if he was trying to think of something else other than the joy that had over come his features. 

She certainly was charming, in an incredibly girlish way, and he wasn’t the only one who thought it. He hadn’t heard Penelope giggling so much since Morgan had left, nor did he miss the way Rossi and Emily watched her darting around in the field, chasing after her as if she needed one of those leashes people had for toddlers.

Or the way Luke had had to talk her out of bringing a stray cat back to the BAU just two days ago because ‘it looked sad and lonely’. 

She was only eight years his junior, and yet he felt like the job had made him too hard, too mature, too tough against a softness like hers.

Girls had never really been interested in him, at least not for him as Spencer Reid, not as SSA Dr Reid. He had the occasional fling, even Maeve in the grand scheme of things had been a budding romance at best, and just the thought of Cat Adams viper-like eyes had him shuddering. 

He barely wanted anything to do with women at the moment, at least that was what he’d told himself every night he’d been fighting for his damn life in prison. 

But it was almost too easy to feel this way about her, like he couldn’t drink in her sweet smell or even sweeter voice fast enough, or bathe in her gaze that melted like rich chocolate when he took a glance her way. 

He didn’t bring it up with her until they were the last few people filing out of the office. 

“I can drive you,” She chirped, almost dropping the contents of her bag everywhere as she rooted for her car keys, and before he could protest, because it was like all he could see now was how eager to be around him she was and he wasn’t too sure he could keep himself from opening pandora’s box, she jingled her keys, that of course had crochet bluebells hanging from them and all but danced past him into the elevator. “Come on, you can have shotgun,” 

“I’ll be the only passenger, doesn’t that mean I automatically have shotgun?” He asked, following behind her as she stood in the elevator with a beaming smile, her finger clicking the ground floor button a bunch of times even though it made no difference how fast the doors closed. 

“Well, yeah, but it’s going to be the best shotgun you’ve ever had. I’m talking you can be Miss Daisy and I’ll be your Morgan Freeman,” And as if her spirit was infectious, he shook his head with a hidden chuckle.

There was a minute of silence between the two as she played with a loose thread on her cardigan, and it was then he took the chance to ask her the question that had been burning on his lips all day. 

“You didn’t by any chance go to University of Pennsylvania, did you?” Spencer asked, noting the way her eyes fell to the floor and how she licked her lips nervously.

“Yeah,” She replied cautiously, fingers clenched tightly around her keyring, “I know it’s not Caltech, but it was pretty good-”

“Didn't you see my lecture with Hotch?” He asked, and his smile widened tenfold when her hands slapped over her cheeks that burned with horror, moving quickly up to cover her eyes, “Little birdy told me you were quite excited to meet me-”

“Oh, Emily,” She groaned, burying her face in her palms, avoiding his teasing expression like the plague, “I knew, I knew she was going to tell you, I’m surprised she didn’t tell JJ first, unless she did and our whole team know I was some crazy girl who liked the FBI agents so much she switched her major,” 

“You switched your major for me?” He asked incredulously and he only laughed harder, one of the first times since he’d come home, when she groaned louder, turning away from him entirely. 

“Shut up, I did not swap my major for you,” She bit back, and she finally met his gaze, her expression an embarrassed wince, “I just… liked the material. You were very compelling,”

“Did you have a poster of us?” Spencer wanted to stop teasing, knew he was being a little cruel, but how could he resist when she shrieked in between laughter, shoving his shoulder with mortification.

“No,”

“Did you kiss Hotch’s picture before bed like an obsessive fangirl?” 

She gestured to him vulgarly as they left the elevator and headed for the car park, and it made a huge difference to the usual adoration she watched him with, but maybe, he thought, it made him like her even more. 

“No more shotgun for you, you’re going in the trunk like an old rug,” She snapped, though he could tell she was still horrified by the way she avoided his delighted hazelnut gaze. 

“Like an old rug?” He feigned hurt, but when they sat in her car, she finally looked over at him with something vulnerable and yet affectionate, like he’d seen her for all she was worth. He reached over the console to squeeze her hand gently, not missing the way her palm clammed beneath his and she struggled for words, so he continued for her, “That’s really no way to talk to your idol, you know,” 

Spencer swore his chest felt lighter than it had in months watching her laugh like that.

[criminalamnesia]

HIIII!!! I just wanted to say that i really love ur writing! I've read ur traitor series and I can't wait for part 4! I'm a new author, and english isn't my first language, so it's sometimes very hard for me to write bcs i'm stil not that good, but ur fics have helped me improve<3💗!

thank you so much!🫶 im glad you’ve enjoyed the series! and speaking of part four, here it is :)

ALL PARTS CAN BE FOUND HERE

simon didn’t turn to watch you leave the gym.

he stood there, eyes forward, mask clenched in one fist. he could feel the blood drying on his skin. he made no move to wipe it away.

he didn’t blame you for your anger— he couldn’t. he understood the rage. had felt it himself a time or two.

but he couldn’t take everything lying down.

did he deserve your wrath, your fury? yes— and he knew that. there was no making up for what he did; he realized that, but why couldn’t you understand?

he’d never fully taken his walls down around you, and that was no fault of your own. he was a guarded man, and his past gave him every right to be.

he had been burned and broken too many times. he’d seen the people he loved murdered because of him.

he swore he would never let that happen again. he put those walls up, and you knocked some of them down.

but there were some you’d never gotten through, at least, simon told himself you hadn’t. there was always something he was holding back, a piece of himself he wouldn’t give freely. he told himself it was because he couldn’t stand to love you so deeply and then watch you leave.

but really, it was because he needed an out. he needed a way to justify his leaving if something ever happened— and that’s what got him here.

simon trusted the 141 with his life. he trusted his captain with his life. price had never led him astray; john knew his face well before any of the others. well before you.

and when someone you trust so deeply, someone you’ve followed for years, tells you that the person you love has betrayed your team?

you can’t help but believe them. and that’s what simon did.

the evidence was coincidental at first. wrong place, wrong time. but then, everything started to seem like more than a coincidence. pieces of a complicated puzzle were fitting together. things only you and the rest of the 141 would know were leaked.

and all the signs pointed to you.

and although he didn’t want to, simon couldn’t help it. the second price had confided in him that you may be the rat, simon began to distance himself. you had been confused, but he had offered no explanation.

price was the one to question you first. it was a heated conversation in his office, consisting of him showing you the evidence and you becoming furious at the accusations.

johnny came to you next, buttering you up with his flirtatious and unarming words before asking if you’d leaked information.

then there was kyle, who pleaded for the truth. he told you that a case was being built against you, and that if you came clean now, things wouldn’t be so bad.

simon never tried to talk to you about it. the other men would tell him what you’d said, but he had never gone to talk to you himself.

maybe it was pride. simon wasn’t trusting, not after his past. he had let the 141 in, had let you in. and now you were a suspected traitor, and he was angry at himself. angry he hadn’t seen it sooner; angry he’d let you in at all.

but maybe it was hurt. hurt that you’d done this to him, to the team, after knowing everything they’d been through. after stitching up wounds on the battlefield and taking bullets for one another. after sharing simon’s bed and whispering you loved him.

all he knew was that he trusted price. and as evidence built, so did the distance between the two of you, until you were tied to that chair.

and simon had taken his hurt, his anger, out on you. he wasn’t proud of it, and he knew now that he was wrong. but he was still a little angry. angry because you couldn’t see his side of things— not like he could see yours.

so, he was an ass. he didn’t apologize. he snuck flowers to your bedside but kept his distance. he told you to watch your tone because you were still part of the team, and speaking to price like that was only something an outsider would do.

and he told you that he’d spared your life because he had. anger had consumed him, and truthfully, you were lucky he hadn’t done worse.

even if he’d smothered his feelings for you with rage, he still harbored love for you, and that’s why some part of him held back.

he knew you would probably never forgive him. he had made his peace with that.

but he couldn’t stand the fact that you couldn’t understand why he’d done what he did.

the creak of the gym door opening broke simon from his thoughts. he pulled his mask back on before turning around and making his way to the door.

it took one firm knock on the door for price to answer.

the door clicked open, and price sighed when he saw simon, scrubbing a hand over his unruly beard before letting the taller man in. price turned, walking back to his desk chair, while simon closed the door behind him and locked it.

“this is a bloody mess,” the captain said, falling heavily into the chair. it squeaked at the sudden weight, old leather crinkling and crackling.

“doc came and saw me earlier, ‘fore she left for the night. told me about some new injuries, and yelled at me for letting that happen.”

simon didn’t speak. price’s eyes met his, and he sighed again.

“fuckin’ hell, simon. what the fuck did you say? doc said she had to stitch up both their hands.”

“doesn’t matter what I say,” simon spoke, eyes still on the captain “they won’t fuckin’ listen.”

price shook his head. “that’s not true, ‘nd we both know it,” he sounded tired as he spoke, dark bags under his eyes. he paused for a moment, then spoke again.

“spoke to laswell after you left earlier. she said she’ll try to speed up the transfer process. tryin’ to avoid more fuss, and im not fightin’ it any longer.”

“they’re part of our team,” simon spoke, tone rough.

price shook his head. “they are, but I can’t keep doin’ this. can’t keep pushin’ off transferin’ because of you lot. it may be better for us, but not for them.”

the room fell quiet. simon inhaled, exhaled. his fists clenched at his sides before quickly unfurling once more.

he didn’t have a right to be mad at you for leaving, but he was.

“laswell say anythin’ else about tha’ transfer?” simon asked.

price leaned back in his chair, arms folded across his chest. “not much. no word on where or with who, but even if she knew, doubt she’d tell us. for their sake.”

simon gave a small nod and made to turn, but froze as price spoke again.

“she did say she didn’t know if it would go through. they’d have to pass another eval.”

they both knew what that meant. if laswell said that, then she didn’t believe the transfer would happen. kate wouldn’t outwardly say it, but price had known what she’d meant.

pushing the transfer through wouldn’t matter if you couldn’t pass a physical and psychological evaluation— and laswell didn’t think you could.

although he wouldn’t admit it, price was unsure, too. torture was something that took an incredibly devastating toll on the mind and body.

but torture at the hands of your team? there was no telling the damage that that would do to someone. to you.

an honorable discharge was more likely. and, if that was the case, then your rage would likely grow tenfold.

you career, your livelihood, taken from you by the hands of the men you trusted the most. your family, cutting you up and pushing you out.

damned by your team and your country, regardless of everything you’d done for both of them during your service.

you were just another cog in the machine, one that had been damaged and discarded, and a discharge couldn’t make that any clearer.

he thought back to what you had said in the gym earlier, before you’d left.

‘you should have killed me.’

maybe he should have.

thanks to everyone for your patience! also just incase you didn’t see my post about it—

im no longer doing a taglist! my side blog @troiastitans will reblog my works from now on, so if you want to know when I post, follow that account and allow notifications!

as always, thank you for the love! (also I hope you all enjoyed a little peek into simon’s head!)

[theostrophywife]

azúcar.

pairing: mattheo riddle x reader.

song inspiration: baby by madison beer.

author's note: benjamin being active on tiktok is dangerous for my health. i actually feel like i'm about to crawl on the ceiling from how badly i want this man. literally tweaking. anyways, enjoy 😊

There were a lot of quidditch related superstitions you were willing to put up with. 

Wearing the same socks during every match. Kissing your boyfriend good luck before every game. Even the rowdy common room parties that you and Mattheo often snuck out of to have a celebration of your own was a tradition you welcomed with open arms. 

But this was not one of them. 

“It’s absolutely absurd,” Pansy huffed, her sleek black hair grazing her chin as she tucked her legs underneath her on the velvet couch. “Blaise has lost his mind.” 

“Sounds like you’re the one losing it, Pans.” 

Pansy rolled her eyes. “You would too if your boyfriend suddenly announced a sex ban as part of some weird quidditch superstition.” 

Since the start of the season, the quidditch team had taken a few hits. Usually, the boys dominated the other houses, but they barely won against Hufflepuff and came to a draw against Ravenclaw during the last game. Ending in a tie was apparently the last straw because the day after the match, Blaise told Pansy that the team had taken a pact of celibacy. 

For some deranged reason, the boys believed that abstaining from sex for a week would help them secure a win for the rematch on Friday. For the next five days, they intended to sleep, breathe, and eat quidditch. Apparently, your feminine wiles would have to be set aside for the meantime. As if sex were the problem and not their constant drinking and partying, which probably contributed to their lack of focus as a whole. Not that the boys would listen to common sense at this point. 

You scoffed. “Please, Mattheo wouldn’t last a day without sex let alone a whole week.”

“Don’t be so sure,” Pansy said rather bitterly, picking at the cushion in her lap. “The lot of them are taking this entirely too seriously. Blaise won’t even allow himself to be in a room alone with me.”

���Well, Zabini has a surprising amount of self-control. Mattheo, on the other hand, is perpetually horny. There’s no way that he agreed to such a ridiculous pact.”

“Lucky you,” your best friend said with a long suffering sigh.

You nudged her knee with your foot and smiled mischievously. “Don’t worry, babe. I’m more than willing to help. Blaise may be disciplined, but he’s also just a man. What do you say we pop into the village? I think I saw a lace emerald lingerie set that had your name all over it.”

Pansy perked up at that. “I knew I came to the right person.”

Your best friend smiled as you hooked your arm through her elbow. “Of course you did. Now come on, let’s bring Zabini to his knees.” 

Sprawled out on Mattheo’s bed, you flicked through the pages of your novel and waited for your boyfriend to return from practice. The trip to Hogsmeade had been a complete success. Just as you suspected, the little set you glimpsed through the lingerie store window looked absolutely stunning on Pansy. Blaise didn’t stand a chance. 

As a matter of fact, you’d given the two of them privacy tonight. They were due for a study session at your shared dorm tonight, but you quietly slipped out in the midst of their heated argument about the Goblin Rebellion and happily skipped off to your boyfriend’s room. 

Given the late hour, Mattheo was due back any second now. As if summoning him from your thoughts alone, your boyfriend sauntered into the room, looking sweaty and sexy from running though drills all afternoon. Mattheo grinned the second he spotted you on his bed. 

“Hi, princesa,” he greeted, his voice low and husky. 

”Hi, Matty.” You propped yourself up on your elbows and smiled. “How was practice?” 

“Absolutely fucking brutal,” Mattheo grunted as he pulled off his shoes. “Theo clobbered the fuck out of me, but I suppose it’s better him than the Ravenclaws. Mark my words, we’re going to beat those twats come Friday.” 

“I don’t doubt it, babe.” You pushed off the mattress and scooted closer to him. 

Mattheo licked his lips as you neared, breath hitching as you brushed his damp curls off of his forehead. You smirked and leaned in for a kiss. At the last second, Mattheo turned sharply, causing the kiss to land on his cheek instead of his lips. 

“I’m all sweaty,” he explained. You quirked a brow. Sweat, dirt, and grime had never stopped the two of you before, but you brushed it off. He was probably just wound up about winning. Mattheo smiled apologetically and kissed your temple. “Let me shower first and then we can cuddle, okay?’ 

You made the mistake of looking into those big, brown eyes. Damn him and his chocolate eyed gaze. The twat knew it was your weakness. 

“Fine,” you said as you crawled underneath the covers. “But hurry up, I’m getting tired.” 

Ten minutes later, you were fully engrossed in your book again. Just as it reached a particularly steamy scene, the door swung open, revealing a half-naked Mattheo. The white towel wrapped precariously around his trim waist gave you a perfect view of his toned chest and ripped abs, beads of water clinging onto his glistening skin like rain drops. You bit your lip as he tugged on a clean pair of boxers over his legs, cocking your head to appreciate the curve of his arse before he slipped into his sweatpants. 

Unaware of your ogling, Mattheo climbed into bed and wrapped his arms around you. “What are you reading, mi amor?” 

“Nothing that can’t wait,” you murmured, leaning in to kiss your boyfriend.

This time, Mattheo gladly accepted the kiss. His lips slanted over yours, sighing softly as you melted into him. Your kisses were soft and sweet, punctuated by cute little pecks that had your boyfriend smiling against your mouth. You took the opportunity to slide your tongue against his, making Mattheo groan as his fingers slipped through your hair. 

“Damn, mami. You missed me that much?” 

You rolled your eyes at his cocky smirk while you climbed into his lap and straddled him. Mattheo gripped your hips, moaning as your lips latched onto his neck. His pretty brown eyes rolled back as you left a trail of kisses along the column of his throat. You raked your nails along his chest, dragging red lines down to his abs, and tracing his happy trail as he captured your lips once more. Mattheo let out a choked groan as you tugged at his waistband. To your surprise, he grabbed your wrist and blinked up at you. 

“Y/N…” Mattheo said breathlessly. “Maybe we should…maybe we should go to sleep.” His Adam's apple bobbed up and down as he tried and failed to swallow his own words. 

You raised a brow and settled over his lap, squirming against his hard length as Mattheo bit his lip. “You want to go to sleep? Right now? While I’m on top of you and willing to do whatever you want?” 

Your boyfriend looked pained. Conflict was evident on his face. Without a word, Mattheo nodded. 

“Oh my god,” you blurted in disbelief. “You agreed to that stupid sex ban, didn’t you?”

Mattheo groaned. “Only for a week, love. We really need to win this match.” 

You scoffed. This was absolutely ridiculous. “I know you, Mattheo. You aren’t going to last a week.” 

“Hey! Have a little faith in me.” 

Rolling off of him, you crossed your arms against your chest. “First of all, you didn’t even ask me if I’d be okay with it.” 

That seemed to be the wrong thing to say. With a shit-eating grin, Mattheo cocked his head at you. “It sounds to me like you’re the one who can’t last a week, princesa.” 

“Please,” you said with an eye roll. “I have my book boyfriends to keep me company. I can channel all my sexual energy into reading smut. You, on the other hand? You can’t even make it through class without dragging me into a broom closet.” 

Faster than you thought possible, Mattheo flipped you onto your back and pinned you to the mattress. A cocky smirk curved against his lips as he trailed them down your neck. “Oh?” he hummed, kissing the sweet spot just below your ear, his hand gripping the inside of your thigh, making you press your legs together to suppress the need. The bloody bastard. “But can your book boyfriends touch you like I can?” 

Channeling every ounce of self-control within you, a calm and unbothered expression clicked into place like a mask. You tugged at his curls, forcing him away from your neck. “Don’t worry your pretty little head about me, Matty. I’ll be just fine.” Mattheo released a choked groan when you palmed the front of his boxers. He twitched at your touch, his cock painfully hard. “Looks like you’re not doing too hot, though. Let me know if you need help. You know I’d be more than happy to give you relief, baby.” 

Mattheo cursed under his breath as his own plan backfired on him. Blood rushed down to his cock as you squeezed gently, making him harder and hornier than ever. You chuckled darkly as he grinded against your hand. With one last squeeze, you kissed his cheek and peeled yourself away from his bed. 

“You know where to find me, papi.”

He watched in disbelief as you gathered your things, cute little ass swaying farther and farther away from him as you hauled your bag over your shoulder. “You’re seriously leaving?” 

You smirked and waved at your boyfriend as you pulled the door open. “I have a hot date with my romance novel. Good luck with your pact, babe. You’ll need it.” 

Merlin, Mattheo was going out of his fucking mind. 

For Salazar’s sake, he was starting to get the shakes and it had only been two days since he last had sex. Granted, it felt like an eternity since you were more than determined to get your boyfriend to break. Could lack of sex actually drive a person to the brink of insanity? Mattheo was pretty convinced that the answer was yes as he gaped at the lacy red bra peeking out under your white blouse. 

Had your clothes shrunk in the wash? Mattheo could’ve sworn that your shirt hadn’t been that tight before. You were nearly bursting out of it and the view of your tits pressed together as you leaned across the table to steal a blueberry off of his plate made his mouth water and his dick hard. 

“Stay strong, Riddle,” Theo whispered beside him. “We’ve got this.” 

Never in his life had he wanted to throttle Theo more. The only thing Mattheo had at the moment was a painful fucking boner. Three more days. That’s all he had to endure before they called off this stupid sex pact. 

He could make it. Couldn’t he?

As he looked up at you sucking on a strawberry, Mattheo’s confident wavered. You were truly testing what very little self control that he possessed. You were right when you said that your boyfriend couldn’t last a single class without dragging you into an empty broom closet. You were just so pretty and sexy and hot and that was when you weren’t trying. 

Now that you were determined to tease the fuck out of him, Mattheo didn’t stand a chance. 

All day, you focused on making his life an absolute living hell. Perching on his lap, fixing his tie, smiling prettily while you brushed his curls back and left glossy kiss prints all over his cheeks. His hands were in permanent fists, fingernails digging into the flesh of his palm so deeply that he wouldn’t be surprised to find himself bleeding. This was torture. Cruel and unusual punishment. 

The final straw came when the two of you were studying in the library later that night. Bouncing his leg, Mattheo forced himself to pay attention to the Ancient Runes textbook in front of him instead of ogling you from across the table. It wasn’t working though. Every few minutes, he caught himself glancing up at you. Your lips, your eyes, your hair. There was nothing sexual about you taking notes yet he was so turned on that he felt dizzy. 

Mattheo lowered his head, trying to keep cool. When he looked back up, you were no longer in your seat. Instead, you were reaching for a book on the shelves behind you. Whatever you were looking for was on the lowest shelves, so you bent down to retrieve it. When you did, your skirt rode up, revealing that you weren’t wearing any underwear. Mattheo hissed, scrambling to pull your skirt down. 

”What in Salazar’s name are you doing, Y/N?” Your boyfriend gripped your elbow, anger and frustration radiating off of him in waves. 

You blinked up at him, putting on an innocent smile. “Oh!” you exclaimed, placing a hand on Mattheo’s chest. “Did I forget to wear underwear? Silly me.” 

Your boyfriend groaned and pinched the bridge of his nose. He muttered something under his breath repeatedly. Breathing exercises. You bit back a smirk. 

On his third count to ten, Mattheo finally opened his eyes. Without a word, he gathered your belongings and hauled you out of the library. He didn’t speak until the two of you were back in the dungeons. 

“I’m going to study in my room,” Mattheo declared as he handed you your book bag. “You’ll study in yours.” 

You grinned. “Oh, Matty. We both know the only thing you’ll be studying is your cock in your hand.” Mattheo tensed as you traced a finger down his jawline. “What a shame. I’d be more than willing to put an end to your misery if you just admit that the pact is stupid.” 

For Salazar’s fucking sake. Mattheo was so close to calling this whole thing off. He wanted you. Screaming underneath him. Crying from pleasure. Moaning his name. But he couldn’t. He had to stay strong. 

Mattheo sighed and kissed your temple. “Good night, mi amor. I love you. Even though you’re determined to drive me fucking mental.” 

You smiled before pulling him in by his tie. Mattheo groaned as you placed a sweet kiss on his lips, barely giving him a taste of what he wanted. “Love you too, Matty. Sleep tight. I hope you dream of me tonight.” 

With that, he watched you saunter off in the direction of your dorm, skipping through the common room without a care in the world. Mattheo stared up at the ceiling and counted to ten again. 

Friday could not come any fucking faster. 

You had to admit that you were impressed. Your boyfriend had miraculously survived an entire week without sex. 

Despite your best efforts to thwart the stupid pact, Mattheo stayed true to his word. A pretty impressive feat given the fact that you’d practically thrown everything you had into seducing him. Sitting on his lap, licking your lips while he talked, kissing that sweet spot below his jaw, wearing your clothes shorter and tighter than ever, and even sleeping in his favorite silk red set, which you knew was particularly hard for him if the erection pressed against your back all night was any indication. 

Still, Mattheo withstood all of your attempts. 

You would’ve been upset had it not been for the fact that Mattheo looked absolutely pained by the whole ordeal. This entire week, his fists were permanently clenched at his side, his jaw locking and unlocking with every suggestive comment you threw his way, his eyes flickering over your body, groaning in frustration as he tortured himself by looking at what he couldn’t have. 

It was amusing to watch your boyfriend twitch at your every move. As you predicted, you fared better than Mattheo had. After all, you had a wild imagination and a collection of toys to hold you over. That wasn’t to say that you weren’t needy and aching for him, but you had ways of coping. 

“I’m so fucking glad it’s Friday,” Pansy grumbled beside you as she took a swig from her flask. 

After the whole bring Zabini to his knees plan failed, she’d been crankier than ever. Neither one of you expected either of your boyfriends to even make it this far without caving at least once. 

“Me too, babe. As much as I’m rooting for our boys, I can’t wait for this bloody game to be over. Win or lose, I know the sex is going to be insane.” 

Your best friend smirked as she handed you the firewhisky. “I’ll cheers to that, babe.” 

Surprisingly, the tension and frustration helped the boys play better than ever. They were ruthless on the field. Theo and Enzo were vicious as they defended the goalposts, giving way for Blaise and Mattheo to chase after the opposing beaters, nearly taking some poor bloke’s head off with a bludger. You almost felt bad for the Ravenclaws. 

When Draco caught the snitch, you cheered loudly. You and Pansy screamed until your throat felt raw and hoarse by the time the game was officially called. The two of you swayed as you descended from the stands, slightly inebriated from your generous swigs, but you didn’t mind. The liquor kept you warm and served as preparation for a night of drinking and debauchery for the common room party. 

Blaise wasn’t at all surprised that you and Pansy pregamed. In fact, he took the flask and downed the rest before tugging his girlfriend towards the castle. 

“Have fun, you crazy kids!”

Zabini chuckled. “Oh, we will. By the way, your boyfriend’s waiting for you in the locker room.” 

With a conspiratorial wink, Blaise wished you good luck as Pansy grinned from ear to ear. You chuckled before making your way over to the locker room. The doors opened, revealing a very smug looking Theo. With a frown, you swatted the back of his head. 

“Ow!” The brunette exclaimed, rubbing his newly acquired injury. “What was that for?” 

“For encouraging my boyfriend to agree to this stupid sex ban.” You crossed your arms and glared at your friend. “I know it was your idea, Theodore.” 

“Hey! We won the game, didn’t we? So obviously, my idea was brilliant.” 

“It was just dumb luck,” you replied with a scoff. “Honestly, I didn’t think you guys would take it so seriously. Especially you. You’re even worse than Mattheo. Celibacy for a week must’ve been hell, huh?” 

Theo shifted his weight, looking abashed. You narrowed your eyes at him as you read the guilt in his body language. “You little weasel! You caved, didn’t you?” 

“There was this really hot Ravenclaw…” 

“With the opposing team, too? You’re shameless, Nott.” 

“Please don’t tell the guys.” He looked genuinely contrite as he pleaded with his eyes. “They’ll murder me if they knew that I couldn’t even stick to my own pact.” 

You rolled your eyes. “Fine, but you owe me big time.” 

Theo smiled before leaning over to kiss your cheek. “You’re the best. I’d say see you at the party, but with how tense and insane your boyfriend has been, I probably won’t see you two for the next few days.” 

“I wonder who’s fault that is.” 

“The pact was my idea. Teasing him was yours. Honestly, he almost stabbed a fork through my hand because you bent over in front of him.” He smirked as he held the door open. “You’ve got that man on a tight leash.” 

You fought a smile. “Leave before I get the urge to hit you again.” Theo nodded, making his way out. “Oh, and congratulations on the win.” 

After a cheeky wink, Theo was gone. Leaving you to find your boyfriend on your own. When you rounded the corner, you could hear the sound of water running echoing off the tiled walls. You ventured farther in the stalls and found Mattheo standing underneath the scalding hot shower, tipping his head back against the spray. With a smile, you leaned against the wall and admired your boyfriend. Merlin, he really was beautiful. 

Mattheo was a sight to behold; biceps flexing, abs taut, and back muscles tense as he washed away the sweat and grime. Your gaze trailed down to his trim waist, licking your lips as your eyes snagged on his backside. The longing sigh you released gave you away. 

Water glistened on his skin as Mattheo looked over his shoulder, a playful smirk tugging at his lips as he surveyed you. Your boyfriend didn’t bother covering himself as he sauntered over to you. His chocolate brown eyes roamed over your body, smiling softly when he saw that you were wearing one of his jerseys. Mattheo traced over his surname embroidered right above your heart. 

“The Riddle name looks good on you, mi amor,” he whispered huskily, backing you against the tile. “I can’t wait to make it official one day.” 

You hummed while you tangled a wet curl between your fingers. “Oh? That won’t be happening any time soon, Matty.” Mattheo frowned as you caressed his cheek. “Not with the way you’ve neglected me this week.” 

“Don’t be like that. You know it was hell for me, princesa.” 

“I know,” you said with a grin. “I’m just teasing you. In reality, I’m kind of impressed. You didn’t cave once even when I threw everything I had at you. You were so good, baby. You crushed those Ravenclaws too.” Mattheo groaned as you kissed his jaw, nipping at his sweet spot. “Maybe the pact wasn’t so stupid after all.” 

Your boyfriend groaned as he gripped your hips and pinned you against the wall. “Oh, I won’t be doing that shit again.” Mattheo rested his hand on the base of your throat, eyes black and filled with lust as he squeezed. “It was torture not to touch you.” 

When you spoke, your voice sounded husky and seductive thanks to his possessive hold. “Could’ve fooled me. You seemed perfectly in control. So much so that maybe we should extend it another week. Abstinence really helps clear the mind, doesn’t it, baby?” 

Mattheo chuckled darkly. He knew you were baiting him. You weren’t used to not getting what you wanted in your relationship. Your boyfriend was well aware that he spoiled you rotten. You were going to make him work for it tonight, but he didn’t mind. In fact, the idea thrilled him. He wouldn’t have been dating you if he wasn’t up to the challenge. 

Without warning, Mattheo tugged you into the shower, making you squeal as the water soaked your clothes. He wasted no time before crashing his lips onto yours, claiming you in a starved and possessive way that had you gasping for breath. Your boyfriend was frantic as he hoisted you up and wrapped your legs around his waist. 

Mattheo sucked harshly at your flesh, his dark chuckle a seductive caress against your skin. You groaned as he grinded his cock against your clothed pussy, which was already throbbing and aching for him. “Brace yourself, sweetheart. We have a whole week to make up for and we’re not leaving here until you’re properly punished for teasing me like the little brat that you are.” 

You flashed him a saccharine smile. “Do your worst, baby.” 

“You’ll regret that, mami.” 

With a wicked grin, Mattheo slid your panties to the side and teased along your folds. He hissed when he felt how soaked you were, practically dripping down his fingers as he eased one into your pussy. You bit down on your lip as the delicious pressure awakened a familiar heat in your core. 

“Not so brave now, are you?” Your boyfriend taunted as he slowly fingered you. After going without, you were embarrassed to find that a simple touch was enough to set your teeth on edge. “This is payback, baby. Wearing those tiny little shirts with your lace bra peeking out. Bending over in front of me knowing that you had no panties on. Grinding on my lap and making me so fucking hard that I almost sprained my wrist wanking off in the restroom like a madman.” 

“I’d say I’m sorry, but I’m not.” You rasped, groaning as Mattheo picked up the pace. “Not if this is what I get in return. I like when you’re rough, Matty. It makes me wet.” 

Your head lolled back as he added another finger, curving them inside of you and reaching that spongy spot that had you seeing stars. 

“Good,” Mattheo whispered as he nibbled at your earlobe. “Because I’m about to fuck you until you can’t walk.” 

The filthy words sent you over the edge. Mattheo flicked his thumb over your swollen clit and you clenched around his fingers. “I can feel you squeezing me, pretty girl. So fucking greedy, hm?” 

You let out a choked moan. Mattheo grabbed your wrist and slid your hand down his front. “Do you feel that, princesa? I’ve been hard as fuck for you all week. Are you gonna be a good girl and help me out?” 

“Yes,” you breathed out. “Let me take care of you, papi.” 

Mattheo twitched in your hand as you gripped him, tugging as he watched you with lust blown eyes. The intensity of his stare made butterflies erupt in your stomach. 

“I thought about this while getting myself off this week. Your hands. Your eyes. Your voice.” 

“I thought about you, too,” you confessed. “But it doesn’t compare to the real thing. God, you’re fucking sexy.” You rubbed your thumb over his tip, rubbing his precum over his head. Mattheo whimpered against your neck. “I missed you whimpering for me.” 

“I don’t whimper,” Mattheo countered. 

You raised a brow and picked up the pace, working him until his eyes rolled back. Despite his denial, Mattheo whimpered even louder this time. 

“You’re playing dirty, baby.” 

“I thought you liked it dirty, Matty.” 

“I do,” he said with a smirk before curving his long fingers inside of you. You shuddered as he hit that sweet spot. “Now come on, pretty girl. Come with me.” 

You nodded, picking up the pace and groaning as Mattheo pulled you in for a sloppy kiss. He licked the roof of your mouth, shuddering as he bucked into your hand. You tugged at him, coaxing him to cum as he panted against your neck. 

“Fuck. Don’t stop, baby. I’m so fucking close.” 

“Me too, Matty,” you whimpered, grinding against his fingers to take more. 

The orgasm crackled over you like a lightning strike, singing your veins with heat as your boyfriend continued to fuck you with his fingers. Mattheo wasn’t satisfied with one orgasm. He coaxed another out of you, laughing as you greedily bucked against his hand, biting into his shoulder while the second wave hit. 

By the time your third orgasm rolled around, you genuinely felt as though you’d left your own body. Mattheo only relented when your eyes rolled back and your legs trembled, cries of his name falling sweetly from your lips. 

“Tú eres dulce como el azúcar.”

You opened your eyes slowly and found Mattheo lapping up your cum, swirling and sucking his fingers clean with a smirk. You’re sweet like sugar. Though the words were seemingly innocent, Mattheo was anything but. Your boyfriend knew exactly how much it turned you on when he spoke Spanish and he was definitely using it to his advantage.

“That was just the appetizer, baby. Got you all warmed up for my cock. Think you can take it, Y/N?” 

“I’ve been waiting all week,” you responded hoarsely. 

“It’s worth the wait,” Mattheo declared cockily as he flipped you over. He stripped you of your clothes, carelessly tossing them behind his shoulder while he positioned your hands on the tiled wall. You groaned as he bent you at an angle, smacking your ass before he lined up behind you. “I promise to fucking ruin you, mi pinche puta.” 

Anticipation coiled in your stomach as Mattheo sank in slowly. Both of you groaned as he slid all the way in, twitching as he stuffed you full. It was familiar yet new at the same time. It had always been a tight fit, but given your involuntary break, you could feel yourself struggling to adjust to his size once again. 

Mattheo gripped your hips, leaving bruises in his wake as he slid all the way out. You whined at the loss, but it wasn’t long before he thrusted all the way back in, knocking the air out of your lungs as he set a punishing pace. You braced yourself against the tile as he spread your legs further apart, allowing him to hit an even deeper angle. 

“Oh fuck, how do you always feel so good?” Mattheo grunted as his hips snapped against your ass, brutally burying himself inside of your pussy over and over again. “You were made for me, princesa. We’re perfect together.”

”Matty, baby, please…”

You keened as Mattheo tugged you by the hair, kissing you sloppily as he continued to ruin you. He cupped your tits, flicking his thumb over your nipples as he squeezed your flesh between his rough, calloused hands. Mattheo kneaded your breasts and used the momentum to drive deeper. His palm trailed down your torso, pressing against your stomach to feel himself moving with each thrust. 

Tears streaked your cheeks as your eyes rolled back. “Oh gods. Fuck me. Right there, baby. You fill me up so good. I love being full of you.” 

“Yeah?” Mattheo drawled as his hand crawled up your throat. “You like when I fuck you rough? Deep down, you just want to be treated like a slut. Don’t you, princess?” 

“I do,” you breathed, groaning as Mattheo squeezed your neck. “But I’m only a slut for you, Mattheo.” 

“Damn fucking right, baby.” He said proudly. “This pussy is mine. All fucking mine.” 

You clenched, squeezing him so tightly that Mattheo felt like he might cum then and there. “So greedy. Milking me fucking dry. God, you’re perfect. Mi princesa, mi vida, mi amor.” Your boyfriend shuddered as you grinded against him, picking up the momentum as the two of you neared euphoria. “That’s it, baby. Just like that. Fuck, I’m gonna cum—“

”Cum inside me, Matty. I want to feel you. I want all of it.” 

Mattheo cursed, his body seizing as he came with a loud cry. The sensation of him filling you to the brim, his hot cum dripping out of you and coating the inside of your thighs was enough to send you over the edge. You trembled as the orgasm hit you all at once and nearly passed out from the sheer force of it. 

Fortunately, strong arms wrapped around you before your legs could give out from underneath you. Mattheo pulled you against him, holding your trembling body as you came down from the high. You leaned into him, resting your head on his shoulder as he cleaned you up. Your boyfriend took his time washing your body, taking great care when it came to your sensitive core. 

You smiled up at him as he lathered shampoo into your hair, letting you return the favor and sighing in satisfaction as you scratched his scalp. Mattheo grinned, flashing you a lovesick smile as you rinsed the product out of his hair. 

“I love you so fucking much,” he whispered softly. 

“I love you more,” you countered.

”Impossible.” 

After the two of you dried off, you leaned against the wall and allowed Mattheo to clothe you in his hoodie and sweats. He tied your shoes before giving you a sweet peck. 

“Ready, princesa?” 

You nodded and took his hand. Without the support of the solid wall, your legs wobbled as you struggled to walk. Mattheo caught you around the waist, a smirk tugging at his handsome face. 

“I warned you, Y/N.” He looked entirely too smug and satisfied for your liking. “Told you I’d fuck you until you couldn’t walk.” 

Your boyfriend chuckled as you rolled your eyes. “Poor baby. Don’t worry, mi amor. Let your Matty take care of you, hm?” 

“I take it back. I kind of hate you right now, Mattheo.” 

You squealed as he picked you up bridal style. He didn’t even break a sweat as he carried you across the field. “No, you don’t. But you can fuck me like you do.” 

“Deal.”