#or I guess he shows up at the field office

[degrees-of-lili]

I have to wonder if Vrel is actually considering making Wren romance-able when every other question is like "what would LIs + Wren..." I know some of you mfers are just using the other LIs as an excuse to ask about Wren

[angelseraphines]

ೃ⁀➷ you can be the boss ˗ˏˋ꒰ 🦢 ꒱

╰┈➤ boss!cho sang-woo x employee!reader imagine

a/n: i would like to give a special thank you to @lumillsie for the layout of this post and for the filter used on the header!

˚ ༘♡ you had started working at joy investments a few months ago, a job you knew from the beginning you weren’t particularly suited for. numbers, spreadsheets, and statistical analysis felt foreign to you, but the evening hours worked well enough while you attended university. the pay was sufficient, and the promise of experience at such a reputable firm was worth the initial discomfort.

˚ ༘♡ getting hired had been a grueling process. three separate visits. a preliminary interview, where they assessed your general competence, followed by a secondary round that tested your ability to handle pressure. the final round had been the most nerve-wracking, a panel interview that felt as though they were peeling back layers of your personality, searching for weaknesses. when you were finally offered the position of secretary in the business investment sector, you accepted without hesitation. the role was simple, answer phones, manage the endless cascade of paperwork, coordinate schedules, and ensure the office ran like a well-oiled machine. simple, but draining.

˚ ༘♡ your department was overseen by cho sang-woo, an investment banker with a reputation that preceded him. you met him on your first day. he was tall, with sharp features softened only by the polished glasses perched on his nose. his ironed grey suit fit him perfectly, a testament to his meticulous nature. he was polite but distant, his words clipped as he showed you to your workspace. his focus shifted elsewhere as quickly as he arrived, consumed by the weight of responsibilities you could only guess at. despite his calm demeanor, there was something captivating about him, his quiet authority, the precision in how he carried himself, the faint traces of fatigue that made him seem more human.

˚ ༘♡ the first few weeks were suffocatingly mundane. you answered endless phone calls, most from irate clients demanding updates on investments you barely understood. your inbox overflowed with documents needing filing, scanning, or distributing. appointments had to be coordinated, schedules revised, and egos soothed. it was work that tested your patience, and yet, you did it without complaint. mr. cho rarely spoke to you beyond pleasantries, his days swallowed by meetings, late-night calculations, and hushed phone calls.

˚ ༘♡ on the rare occasions you stayed late, you noticed he often did too, seated at his desk with his tie loosened and sleeves rolled up, poring over spreadsheets or fielding yet another call. it became an unspoken routine for you to bring him coffee when you saw the office lights still on. he would glance up from his work, his glasses reflecting the faint glow of his computer screen, and offer a quiet, “thank you.” it wasn’t much, but something about those brief exchanges stayed with you during the long walks back to your desolate apartment.

˚ ༘♡ perhaps it was the contrast, how someone so stoic and seemingly untouchable could look so worn under the harsh fluorescent lights. or maybe it was the way he always acknowledged you, even in his busiest moments. either way, his presence made the monotony of the job feel a little less stifling.

˚ ༘♡ one evening, long after most employees had gone home, the office was quiet, the buzz of the city outside muffled by thick glass walls. the sky outside was smeared with hues of deep blue and violet, a harbinger of nightfall. after hours spent rearranging meetings, your eyes burned, and the air inside felt stale. you decided to step out for a moment, seeking the cool relief of the evening breeze.

˚ ༘♡ you pushed open the back door of the building and paused. mr. cho was there, leaning casually against the wall, a cigarette dangling between his fingers. wisps of smoke coiled lazily around him, catching the last rays of light. he looked… wretched. the angular lines of his face made obscure by an expression you couldn’t quite place. the glassy sheen in his dark eyes hinted at something far away, something melancholic.

˚ ༘♡ “i’m sorry,” you murmured, startled. “i didn’t mean to interrupt. i’ll leave you to it.”

˚ ༘♡ he turned his head slowly, shaking it. “no need. stay. i don’t mind.”

˚ ༘♡ his voice was steady, unhurried, like the rest of him. you hesitated, then let the door fall shut behind you. descending the short staircase, you stood a few paces from him. the city sounds, car horns, the hum of distant chatter, filled the silence between you.

˚ ༘♡ without a word, he took out a cigarette and held it toward you. surprised, you accepted, pressing it between your lips. he struck the lighter with a practiced flick, the small flame reflecting briefly in his eyes. leaning in, you felt the scathing heat as the cigarette caught.

˚ ༘♡ “you’re new here, aren’t you?” he asked after a moment, exhaling smoke that curled and dissipated into the night air.

˚ ༘♡ you nodded, drawing in your first hesitant puff. “yes, sir. i have been working at joy investments for about four months now.”

˚ ༘♡ “hmm.” he studied you, his gaze intent but not unkind. “interesting. some of the secretaries here have been around for years, yet you do a better job than most of them.”

˚ ༘♡ his words struck you, unexpected and disarming. “thank you, mr. cho. i try to do my best,” you said softly, your voice almost lost in the city’s backdrop.

˚ ༘♡ you stood there together, the silence stretching long but never uncomfortable. you flicked the ash from your cigarette, watching the tiny embers fall and scatter on the ground. eventually, you put it out against the metal railing and tossed it into a nearby storm drain. mr. cho didn’t move, still leaning against the wall, staring into the distance as you murmured a polite goodnight and slipped back inside.

˚ ༘♡ later, when your shift ended, you gathered your coat and scarf, bracing yourself for the cold walk home. you were buttoning your coat when you spotted mr. cho by the lobby doors, speaking with another member of his team. his presence was magnetic, even in passing.

˚ ༘♡ what surprised you was how he excused himself mid-conversation, turning to approach you.

˚ ༘♡ “are you walking home?” he asked, his tone more direct now. “it’s late, not exactly safe out.”

˚ ༘♡ you mulled over the proposition, your fingers tightening on your scarf. “i don’t mind the walk. it’s peaceful at night. i live in eunpyeong-gu, not too far from here.”

˚ ༘♡ he frowned slightly. “eunpyeong-gu?” he repeated, as though thinking over the distance. “i’m heading to ssangmun-dong. it’s on the way. let me drive you.”

˚ ༘♡ his words were more command than offer, but there was a warmth beneath them. he retrieved his keys from his blazer pocket, the metallic jingle cutting through the stillness.

˚ ༘♡ you nodded, accepting his generous offer graciously. “thank you, sir. i’d appreciate that.”

˚ ༘♡ his car was sleek and black, understated but undeniably expensive. he opened the passenger door for you without a word, the leather seats felt comfortable against your skin, and the faint scent of cologne and tobacco drifting in the air.

˚ ༘♡ the drive was quiet. the city lights of seoul blurred into long streaks through the tinted windows, and for that passage of time, the world outside felt far away. mr. cho said little, his hands steady on the wheel, his dark eyes fixed on the asphalt road ahead.

˚ ༘♡ when he pulled up to your building, he shifted the car into park but kept the engine idling. his eyes flicked to you, dark and unreadable, his usual composure fraying at the edges. “get home safely,” he said, his voice quieter than it had been all evening.

˚ ༘♡ you paused, your hand on the door handle, the chill of the outside air seeping in through the crack you’d opened. the thought of leaving the car, of letting the night end like this, made your heart ache. before you could think twice, the words slipped out. “would you like to come inside for tea? i was planning to brew some.”

˚ ༘♡ his brow lifted slightly, the slightest sliver of surprise crossing his features. he considered your offer for a while, he said nothing, merely staring ahead at the dashboard as if he was working through some internal debate. finally, he exhaled. “tea would be nice,” he murmured, more to himself than to you.

˚ ༘♡ you led him up the narrow staircase to your apartment, the silence between you thick but not awkward. the soft hum of the building’s fluorescent lights filled the lounge area, and you could feel the subtle feeling of his presence behind you. when you unlocked the door and stepped inside, the herbal scent of lavender from an old diffuser greeted you. the space was modest, organized but lived-in, with books stacked haphazardly on a coffee table and a blanket draped over the couch.

˚ ༘♡ “make yourself comfortable,” you said, slipping off your coat and setting it over a chair. he stood just inside the doorway, his tall frame almost too large for the small entryway, his hands shoved into his pockets like he wasn’t sure what to do with them.

˚ ༘♡ “you have a nice place,” he said after a beat, his voice tender but strained.

˚ ༘♡ you offered a small smile, glancing over your shoulder as you moved toward the kitchen. but you didn’t make it there.

˚ ༘♡ when you turned back, he was closer, standing in the dim light of your apartment like he wasn’t entirely sure why he’d followed you in. his eyes caught yours, and the short space between you felt like it dissolved in an instant. neither of you spoke, but the air was charged, something unsaid yet painfully understood passing between you.

˚ ༘♡ his hand reached out first, tentative, brushing against your arm as if testing the waters. when you didn’t move away, his grip tightened, and suddenly his mouth was on yours, fierce and urgent, like he’d been holding back for far too long. the scent of him, tobacco, something woodsy, filled your senses, and your hands moved instinctively, fingers digging into the fabric of his wool blazer.

˚ ༘♡ your back hit the wall softly, and then his hands were at your waist, his body pressed against yours with an intensity that made your breath hitch. it wasn’t careful, and it wasn’t slow, it was messy, a tangle of mouths and hands, you were two people trying to lose themselves in each other for just a little while.

˚ ༘♡ you barely registered how you ended up in your bedroom, your coat and his blazer discarded somewhere along the way. the dim light from the streetlamp outside spilled through the curtains, casting long shadows across the room. the bed was warm, and so was he, but there was an ache beneath it all, an edge of something desperate and passionate.

˚ ༘♡ when you woke the next morning, the light was harsh, spilling through the cracks in the curtains and illuminating the reality of the night before. you stirred first, the weight of him beside you a reminder of everything that had happened in that heated entanglement.

˚ ༘♡ he was awake, lying on his back with an arm draped over his face. his dress shirt was wrinkled, and his tie hung loose around his neck, half-forgotten. there was a tension in his posture, his hands clenched into fists, his lips pressed into a thin line.

˚ ༘♡ “i should go,” he said finally, his voice hoarse, hardly above a whisper. he didn’t look at you as he lifted himself over the edge of the bed, sitting there for a minute, trying to mentally gather the strength to move.

˚ ༘♡ you watched him, your heart sinking deeper with every passing second. “you don’t have to go,” you said delicately, your voice barely above a whisper. you reached out, your fingers brushing against his shoulder, hoping to mend this disaster in a pathetic gesture of affection.

˚ ༘♡ he tensed under your touch but didn’t pull away. “this shouldn’t have happened,” sang-woo muttered, his voice thick with self-reproach. “i’m your superior. i’m over twice your age…” his words trembled as he exhaled sharply, dragging a hand through his black hair. the carefully calm demeanor he usually wore at the office was ebbing away, slipping through the gaps. “fuck, where are my glasses?”

˚ ༘♡ his frustration wasn’t directed at you, but it stung all the same. his gaze swept the room until he found them, the frames haphazardly thrown to the floor. he bent down to retrieve them, clutching them tightly in his hand.

˚ ༘♡ standing upright, he looked at you for the first time since he spoke, his expression torn with anguish. “i’m sorry,” he said, and for once, the words that left his lips sounded unpracticed, raw and genuine. “i shouldn’t have done this. i shouldn’t have taken advantage of my position over you.”

˚ ༘♡ you stayed where you were, the blankets tangled around you, half-dressed and vulnerable. his words landed like small cuts, brutal and wounding. “if this is your way of saying it’s the first and last time, just say that,” you said, despite the hurt bled through. “don’t hide behind excuses.”

˚ ༘♡ his eyes glistened with something, regret, guilt, or maybe even longing. “no,” he said, stepping closer, hesitant but determined. his hands reached for your face, his touch warm and grounding. “of course i would love to see you again, but how can we? i’m your boss. you work for me. it’s an abuse of power, and if anyone found out, we’d both be ruined. management at joy investments wouldn’t hesitate to fire us for violating corporate policy.”

˚ ༘♡ “then we keep it a secret,” you replied, your voice laced with desire, your gaze locked with his.

˚ ༘♡ sang-woo let out a dry, humorless laugh, shaking his head slightly. “you think i wouldn’t want that? you think i wouldn’t want to steal moments with you, even if no one could ever know?” his voice dipped lower, almost a plea. “but pretending not to care about you when we’re in public, keeping my distance, watching you from across the room as if you don’t mean more to me than anyone else…” he broke off, rubbing his temple. “it would drive me insane.”

˚ ༘♡ “weren’t you already doing that?” you said, a small grin tugging at the corner of your lips.

˚ ༘♡ he blinked, then chuckled lightly despite himself. “i was maintaining professional boundaries,” he admitted, though the words sounded hollow now. he slipped off his glasses, polishing the lenses absently with the edge of his sleeve. “boundaries i’ve crossed in every possible way last night.”

˚ ༘♡ he paused, his gaze returning to yours, weaker now. “so maybe you’re right,” he added, his lips curving into a wry, self-deprecating smile. “what’s left now for us to ruin?”

˚ ༘♡ the affair continued in shadows, a secret tether binding the two of you as the world moved obliviously around it. at work, everything appeared as it always had, professional, restrained, unassuming. he never lingered too long at your desk, never glanced your way for more than a few fleeting seconds. if anyone noticed anything amiss, they never said a word. yet, behind closed doors, the charade unraveled.

˚ ༘♡ sang-woo would text late at night, asking to see you, his messages never too explicit but unmistakable in their intent. you would find yourself in his car again or at a hotel just out of town, places chosen carefully to avoid recognition. in those moments, he was different, a vulnerable man. his hands would hold you like he couldn’t bear to let go, his lips pressing against yours with a hunger that belied the restraint he showed the rest of the world.

˚ ༘♡ but even as his touch ignited you, doubts began to creep in. at first, they were small, quiet things, easily dismissed when he whispered your name like it was the only word he cared to know. yet over time, the flaws became unfathomable to ignore.

˚ ༘♡ you started to notice how he never stayed too long after. he always had somewhere to be, an early meeting, an obligation with colleagues, an excuse that left you alone in bed, staring at the ceiling. at work, he was cordial but cold, his focus fixed on maintaining appearances.

˚ ༘♡ “we have to be cautious,” he’d say, his tone firm but not unkind. “you know how people talk. one rumor and it’s over for both of us.”

˚ ༘♡ you nodded each time, swallowing your sorrow, pretending it didn’t sting. but it did. the secrecy, the pretending, the constant tug-of-war between what you wanted and what you could have, it wore on you.

˚ ༘♡ weeks turned into months, and though the moments you shared with him were still intense, they began to feel hollow. you weren’t just hiding from the world; you were hiding from yourself.

˚ ༘♡ you started to wonder what you were to him. not a girlfriend, he never called you that. not a partner, because partners didn’t live in secrecy. what was the point of loving someone who couldn’t even say your name without glancing over his shoulder first?

˚ ༘♡ you confronted him one evening, the words spilling out before you could stop them. “what are we doing? what am i to you?”

˚ ༘♡ he froze, the usual calm, calculated expression gone. “you’re everything to me,” he said finally, but the words felt too rehearsed, too easy.

˚ ༘♡ “then why does it feel like i’m nothing?” you asked, your voice cracking.

˚ ༘♡ he rubbed the back of his neck, pacing the room like a man trapped. “it’s not that simple. my position, my reputation, it’s all i have, sweetheart. if people knew about us, it would ruin everything i’ve worked for.”

˚ ༘♡ “and what about me?” you shot back, the heat rising in your chest. “do you think this doesn’t ruin me? hiding, pretending, giving everything to you and getting scraps in return?”

˚ ༘♡ his shoulders slumped, and for a second, you saw something raw in his eyes. “i love you,” he said, and you believed him. but love wasn’t enough, not like this.

˚ ༘♡ “then prove it,” you said bitterly, your voice shaking.

˚ ༘♡ he didn’t answer, and the lack of answer spoke louder than any explanation could. he was a man desperate for respect, for the image he’d spent years crafting and perfecting. and you were an unfortunate deficiency in the foundation, a risk he wasn’t brave enough to take.

˚ ༘♡ as you stood there, the existence of your situation all settled on your shoulders. you realized you were giving pieces of yourself away to someone who could never give you the same in return. and for the first time, you weren’t sure if you could keep doing it.

˚ ༘♡ he reached for you, his touch hesitant, but you stepped back. “sang-woo, i can’t continue being your secret,” you whispered, your voice breaking. “i deserve more than that.”

˚ ༘♡ he didn’t stop you when you left, and that, more than anything, told you everything you needed to know.

˚ ༘♡ he spent the next few weeks trying, in every way he knew how, to reach you. his texts came first, short, imploring messages that grew more desperate with each passing day.

˚ ༘♡ you never responded, deleting them as soon as they appeared. then came the emails, written in his typically formal tone but laced with an underlying urgency that bordered on uncharacteristic. he didn’t beg, but the underlying message was clear, he was losing his sanity over you.

˚ ༘♡ at work, sang-woo started appearing in places he never had reason to be, near your desk, by the break room, even in hallways he had no meetings to attend. every time, his eyes would search for yours, pleading silently for something, acknowledgment, forgiveness, anything to mend the chasm that had opened between you. but you refused to meet his gaze, your resolve hardening even as your heart ached.

˚ ༘♡ eventually, he stopped. no more texts, no more emails, no more waiting outside your office. it was as if he’d resigned himself to your silence, as though he understood you had no intention of reopening the door he’d closed with his hesitation.

˚ ༘♡ but not at heart.

˚ ༘♡ you saw it in the way he carried himself now, his body tensed, his stride slower, his face devoid of the quiet confidence he used to exude. in meetings, he seemed distracted, his eyes landing on you only to dart away when he thought someone might notice.

˚ ༘♡ when you passed each other in the corridors, the pain in his expression was unmistakable. he didn’t try to speak to you anymore, but the way he looked at you, like you were something he’d lost and could never reclaim, was worse than any words he could have said. it was agony, for both of you, and you felt it every time.

˚ ༘♡ you told yourself this was for the best, that you couldn’t live your life tied to someone who wouldn’t fully claim you. you told yourself that his claims of love wasn’t enough when it was buried beneath secrecy and shame. but those rationalizations didn’t stop the hollow ache in your chest every time you caught his reflection in the glass of the office windows or saw his hands fidgeting during a presentation.

˚ ༘♡ he wasn’t just grieving the loss of you, he was punishing himself for it. you saw it in the way he avoided the employee lounge now, where you might be, the way he no longer stayed late after work, perhaps because the silence reminded him of what had once been. he was a man unraveling in slow motion, and though it hurt to watch, you knew you couldn’t be the one to put him back together.

˚ ༘♡ you told yourself you couldn’t think of him forever. and yet, in the quiet hours of the night, when you lay awake in your empty apartment, you found yourself wondering if he was awake too, staring at the ceiling, trying to forget you the way you were trying to forget him.

˚ ༘♡ when he suddenly stopped showing up one day, you told yourself it didn’t matter. you’d spent weeks distancing yourself from him, building walls to protect the fragile peace you were trying to restore in your life. his absence should have been a relief. you should’ve been grateful for the quiet. but instead, it gnawed at you.

˚ ༘♡ you reasoned he might have taken a business trip or been sent to a conference. yet, as the days stretched into weeks, the silence surrounding his disappearance became impossible to ignore. whispers began to circulate in the office, snippets of overheard conversations that sounded too wild to believe.

˚ ༘♡ “forgery,” someone murmured near the coffee machine. “embezzlement,” said another, their tone tinged with disbelief. “siphoning client funds, can you imagine? what an idiot.”

˚ ༘♡ you dismissed it at first, refusing to entertain the thought. rumors spread like wildfire in the corporate world, often fueled by jealousy or boredom. but the uneasy feeling in your chest wouldn’t leave.

˚ ༘♡ unable to bear the uncertainty any longer, you sought out the manager of all investing departments, a stern man known for his no-nonsense approach. he seemed surprised when you asked about cho sang-woo but didn’t wait to provide an answer.

˚ ༘♡ “it’s true,” he said bluntly. “he siphoned money from client accounts to fund personal investments, stocks, futures, the works. lost every cent. he’s disappeared now. hasn’t answered calls or emails. if he shows up again, he’ll be fired on the spot and handed over to the authorities unless he reimburses the clients in full. but, between you and me, i doubt he has the means.”

˚ ༘♡ you stood there, numb, the significance of all that occurred with you ignorant to it all pressing down on your chest. sang-woo, austere, professional, and fiercely intelligent, had done this? the man you thought you knew, who always carried himself with precision and dignity, had thrown everything away on a gamble?

˚ ༘♡ you wanted to be angry, furious that he could have made such reckless choices. but instead, all you felt was an overwhelming wave of worry. where was he now? what was he doing? was he even safe?

˚ ༘♡ you couldn’t stop yourself. you called his number, your fingers quivering as you pressed the digits. it rang and rang, only to cut off. no voicemail. you texted him, pleading for an answer, any sign that he was okay. nothing.

˚ ༘♡ the lack of response was unbearable, so you did the only thing you could think of, you went to his neighborhood. it was an impulsive decision, driven by a pitiful dismay you couldn’t suppress.

˚ ༘♡ you arrived late in the evening, the streets quiet under the dim glow of streetlights. his building loomed ahead, its windows dark and uninviting. you buzzed his unit at the entrance, your heart pounding in your chest.

˚ ༘♡ no response.

˚ ༘♡ you buzzed again, and again, your desperation mounting with each unanswered call. finally, an older tenant passing by offered to let you in, probably mistaking your apprehension for something more passive. you murmured your thanks and slipped inside, the air in the stairwell gloomy and stale.

˚ ༘♡ you reached his door and knocked, the sound echoing in the stillness. “sang-woo?” you called out, your voice exhausted. “are you in there?”

˚ ༘♡ nothing.

˚ ༘♡ pressing your ear to the door, you strained to hear any sign of life, a shuffle, a breath, anything. but the apartment was silent, as if no one had been there for days.

˚ ༘♡ a burdened pang pierced at your chest, and you leaned against the doorframe, fighting the rising surge of fear. what had happened to him? where could he have gone?

˚ ༘♡ you tried to tell yourself he’d resurface eventually, that this wasn’t your responsibility, but it was a hollow comfort. the man you’d loved, the man you may still love, was out there somewhere and you couldn’t bring yourself to let go.

˚ ༘♡ you stayed at the door longer than you should have, staring at the splintered wood as though it might suddenly yield. but it didn’t, and you left with a growing sense of unease. it wasn’t until you stepped onto the street, cold air biting your cheeks, that you caught sight of him.

˚ ༘♡ he was farther down the block, walking briskly, his head low, his shoulders hunched against the evening chill. his clothes were rumpled, his actions were quick and uneasy, like he was trying to outrun something. you stood still, watching him for a few minutes before instinct kicked in.

˚ ༘♡ you followed him at a distance, your heart pounding harder with every step. he didn’t notice you as he turned a corner, heading toward a dingy motel that sat on the edge of the neighborhood. the neon sign buzzed faintly, flickering erratically, casting a sickly green glow on the pavement.

˚ ༘♡ he disappeared inside, and you hesitated for a moment before pushing through the door. the motel’s lobby smelled of stale cigarettes and mildew, its yellowed walls decorated with faded prints of generic landscapes. you saw him again, down the narrow hallway, his motions slower now as he unlocked a door and slipped inside.

˚ ༘♡ you followed, your pulse a chaotic drumbeat in your ears. when you reached the door, you knocked, first lightly, then harder. no response.

˚ ༘♡ “sang-woo,” you called, your voice low but steady. “it’s me. open the door.”

˚ ༘♡ nothing.

˚ ༘♡ your hand hovered over the handle, and when you pressed down, it gave way. the door creaked open, revealing the dim, suffocating space beyond.

˚ ༘♡ the room was barely lit, a single bulb flashing weakly overhead. clothes were draped haphazardly over the back of a chair, and an empty bottle sat tipped over on the nightstand. the air was thick, the scent of alcohol and something that reeked of chemicals clinging to every surface.

˚ ༘♡ then you saw him.

˚ ༘♡ he was in the bathroom, the door half-open, slumped in the narrow, grimy tub. the water was filled to the brim, cloudy and tinged with a faint, sickly hue. an empty soju bottle dangled from his hand, his head tilted back against the tiles. his shirt was half unbuttoned, clinging damply to his skin, his face pale and weary.

˚ ༘♡ you couldn’t move. your breath caught in your throat as you took in what was haopening, the torment of the painful scene before you hitting you all at once.

˚ ༘♡ “sang-woo,” you said, stepping into the bathroom, your voice horrified. “what the hell are you doing?”

˚ ༘♡ his head turned slightly, his gaze unfocused but intense enough to bore into you. his lips twisted into something that might have been a smile, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “what does it look like?” he muttered, his voice slurred and thick.

˚ ༘♡ you crouched beside the tub, grabbing the glass bottle from his hand and setting it aside. “you’re out of your mind,” you said, your tone hard but trembling beneath the surface. “is this your plan? to drown yourself in this… this mess?”

˚ ༘♡ he chuckled, the sound brittle and malicious. “it’s not a plan,” he said. “it’s… it’s only easier. don’t you understand? everything’s gone. the money, the clients, the respect. i lost it all. so what’s the point?”

˚ ༘♡ you wanted to shake him, to drag him out of the water and back into the real world. instead, you stayed where you were, staring at the man who seemed so far removed from the one you thought you knew.

˚ ༘♡ “you think this fixes anything?” you murmured. “you think disappearing into this terrible motel will make it all go away?”

˚ ༘♡ he didn’t respond, just let his eyes drift to the chipped ceiling.

˚ ༘♡ you stood, your hands quivering as you turned off the faucet and grabbed a towel, tossing it at him. “get out of the tub,” you said, your tone leaving no room for argument. “dry off. sober up. and then figure out what the hell you’re going to do. because this?” you gestured around the room, your frustration emerging. “this isn’t an answer. it’s pathetic.”

˚ ༘♡ he flinched at the word, but he slowly began to sit up, the water sloshing over the edge of the tub. droplets clung to his skin, and his movements were sluggish, like he was dragging himself through quicksand. you didn’t offer to help, stepping back instead, arms crossed as the sound of water dripping onto the marble tiled floor.

˚ ༘♡ “oh my gosh, get yourself together,” you muttered, yet you sounded as if you were on the verge of tears.

˚ ༘♡ he didn’t respond, just sat there for a moment, his shoulders slumped, his hair plastered to his forehead. eventually, he grabbed the towel, wrapping it loosely around himself as he climbed out of the tub.

˚ ༘♡ the atmosphere was suffocating, dense with unspoken words and unacknowledged fear. he walked past you without meeting your eyes, water pooling on the floor with every step.

˚ ༘♡ then came the knock.

˚ ༘♡ it wasn’t loud or insistent, only a single, deliberate tap against the door. your eyes snapping toward the sound. for an agonizing instance, neither of you dared to act, the atmosphere shifting into something more solemn, something grave.

˚ ༘♡ “who is that?” you asked, your voice unstable.

˚ ༘♡ he didn’t answer, but his brow lowered, his unease evident. he took an unstable step toward the door, but before he could reach it, a card slid through the slit beneath.

˚ ༘♡ the stark white rectangle lay on the worn carpet, the edges crisp, as though it had been placed with care. you moved first, bending to pick it up, your fingers skimming the surface.

˚ ༘♡ when you flipped it over, you saw on one side there was a simplistic, unsettling design, a circle, a triangle, and a square, printed in bold black ink. the shapes were clean, symmetrical, and yet somehow they carried a dreadful presence.

˚ ༘♡ you turned the card over, the other side detailed a date, stating the twenty-third of june, and a location, which only stated it being as the same one was before, leaving you bewildered beyond comprehension.

˚ ༘♡ “what is it?” he asked, his voice rough, ridden with something between interest and dread.

˚ ༘♡ you held the thin piece of paper out to him, letting him take it from your hands. his expression darkened as he studied it, his fingers constricting around the card.

˚ ༘♡ neither of you spoke. the silence was unbearable, the air electric with implicit perplexity and the creeping realization that whatever this card was, it wasn’t random.

a/n: a little longer than my other works, please let me know your thoughts and if you would like me to turn this into a series. part three of the professor cho-sang woo series is also coming soon!! 🤍

[burreauxsworld]

Ours To Keep (3) | Joe Burrow

Smut/18+, Fluff, Slight Angst

Summary: you and Joe are learning to juggle your pregnancy on top of the fast approaching football season, all while growing even closer than before, which neither of you thought was possible.

You’re bent over the toilet of the facility bathroom emptying to contents of your stomach. The nausea seemed to come in swinging. This is how you found yourself most mornings, and even throughout the day. The anti-nausea medicine prescribed to you barely ever seemed to work. Letting out a groan, you flushed the toilet and stood up.

It’d been two weeks since the confirmation of your pregnancy, and you learned from the ultra sound that you were about 3 months along. While you weren’t showing yet, the weight gain was starting to become obvious. Your jeans no longer fit you, so you opted for leggings most of the time. Your bra’s became too snug, so you had to get new ones. Most of all, you’d started wearing Joe’s bengals shirts to work to hide the weight gain. The two of you still hadn’t told anyone about the baby. You wanted to live in your own little bubble for a while. Joe agreed, knowing it would cause less stress for you if you hadn’t told anyone yet.

You washed your hands and walked out of the bathroom. You stopped by your office to grab your laptop, and made your way toward the practice field. Practice wasn’t open to the public today so you opted to work outside. You needed some fresh air anyway. You took a seat on a slightly shaded part of grass, and started to respond to emails regarding brand deals and events that Joe would need to go to. Setting up interviews and juggling everything around his football schedule. You also had to plan doctors appointments around both of your schedules, because he said he refuses to miss a single one.

You hear a whistle blow, and look up just in time to see Joe hoping on one foot, out of the way of the play and taking a seat on the ground, with his brow furrowed in pain. Your heart drops to your stomach. You set your laptop aside, and watch as Coach Taylor walks over to Joe. You don’t dare walk over there because Joe would throw a fit if someone even accidentally bumped you.

“Fuck,” you mutter as Joe gets carted off the field. You gather your things and quickly make your way back into the facility. You find Joe in one of the medical rooms sitting on the table, he’s by himself so you slip into the room. “Hey, what happened?”

“Strained my damn calf.” he spits, and you wince. “Sorry, I didn’t mean for it to come out so harsh” he apologizes. “Zac dismissed me for the day. I’m just trying to find the motivation to get up and take a shower before we head out. Hurts like a bitch,” he admits, looking over at you. “Do you need help?” You ask and he shakes his head.

“No, I should be okay. I don’t think I can drive though”

“Well it’s a good thing we came together then. You’ll just have to trust me to drive your baby” you joke, and he jokingly rolls his eyes. “If I can trust you to carry my baby then I guess I can trust you to drive my third baby” he jokes, and you grow confused. “Third?”

“Well, there’s you, our baby, and my Porsche” he explains, and your heart melts. “Let’s get outta here,” he says before you can say anything, slowly getting on his feet.

•••

“Thanks, baby” Joe says as you set a plate of food in front of him while he sits on the couch with his leg elevated. You smiled at him in return before taking a seat next to him. You look over at him while he eats, and you can’t shake the thought from your head. “Joey,” you say, catching his attention. “Can we talk…about us?”

He sets his plate aside and looks over at you, not being able to move much due to his calf. “What about us?” He asks softly. You let out a sigh. “I don’t know. I guess I’m just wondering where everything leaves us. You know, with the baby and all. I’m 100% okay if you don’t feel the same way, but I have to get this off of my chest” you tell him, taking a deep breath. He bites the inside of his cheek, stopping a smile from forming. He knows exactly where this is going.

“I’ve liked you for a really long time. Which is why I let our situation go on for such a long time. I craved that touch from you. I craved literally anything from you. I guess what I’m trying to say is, this baby made me realize that I don’t want to be without you. Ever. I love you, Joey, and you don’t have to say back. I just needed you to know-“

He cuts you off by pulling you in for a kiss. The kiss was slow, not rushed. Soft and full of love. It felt like fireworks were bursting in your chest. You pulled away and stared into his eyes, a look of adoration evident in the ocean blue irises that you loved so much.

“I love you, so so much” Joe mutters. “You and our baby”

“So what does this mean for us?” You ask quietly, with a hint of hope in your voice. “It means you’ve always been my girl, but now it’s official” he smirks, pulling you to straddle his waist. “Joey, I don’t wanna hurt you!” You shriek, trying to get off of his lap. “It’s my calf not my thighs. You’re perfectly fine, baby” he assures you, before smashing his lips onto yours.

This kiss was feverish and full of desire. The raw passion made the room around you feel warm. Joe’s hands settle on your ass, grinding you down on his growing erection inside his sweats. He groans into the kiss as he repeats his action. Your hands slide down his clothed chest, moving slowly toward the bottom of his hoodie. You slide your hands under his hoodie and his shirt, moving it up and he help you take it off. His hands grip the bottom of your shirt and pull it over your head, you weren’t wearing a bra, do your boobs sprung in his face.

His mouth attaches to one of your sensitive nipples and you let out a sharp gasp. “Please be gentle, they’re sore right now” you tell him breathlessly. “I got you baby, I’ll take care of you” Joe says, his tongue slowly circling your left nipple. You tip your head back as you let out a soft moan. He gently sucks it into his mouth before letting it go with a pop, moving to the other side.

“Fuck, Joey” you whine, grinding yourself into his lap. “You like this gorgeous? Fuck, your tits are huge now. They’re so beautiful” he groans, softly kneading them in his large hands. You lean in capturing his lips again. His hands push your cotton shorts over the curve of your ass, slapping it as he does so, causing you to gasp.

“Take these off,” he says, helping you stand to remove your shorts. He removes his sweats as well. Both of you completely bare, not like you haven’t been before. You straddle his waist again, his hard cock rubbing perfectly against your swollen bud. You whine, grinding down. “I’m gonna take care of you, baby, don’t you worry” he whispers in your ear, his voice laced with lust. His hand moves between your thighs, groaning when he feels how wet you are for him. You whine as he gathers your wetness and his fingers start to circle your clit.

Your nipples rubbing against his chest made the pleasure feel almost overwhelming. His lips are back on yours while his fingers work you. Your moans and whines are caught in his mouth. He pulls away, his lips finding your chest again, you throw your head back. “Fuck Joey!” You whine loudly. “Fuuuckk” you moan out, and he smirks against your chest. You let out a sharp gasp when his fingers move from your clit to your sopping entrance, and he inserts two fingers.

“Fuck you’re so wet for me,” Joe groans. “Baby, I’m gonna cum” you whine out and his fingers move faster. “Cum for me baby. Cum all over my hand”

Your breathless moans sound throughout the living room, your head tipped back as you fall apart from just his talented fingers. You lean forward and rest your sweaty forehead on his shoulder. “You think you can ride me, baby?” Joe mutters into your ear, nipping at your earlobe. You nod and pull back to position yourself above him. Sinking down slowly, you feel every inch. Every vein. Your eyes are shut and mouth formed into a perfect “O” shape. Joe lets out a groan as you’re fully seated. He gives you a minute to adjust to his size.

You feel so full. You haven’t felt this in almost a month due to the two of you being so busy. You start to move back and fourth, a soft moan slipping past your lips. Joe’s large hands find your waist to help guide you. You let out a laid moan as he lips your hips and slams you back down. “Oh my god!”

“Yeah, you like that baby?”

You let out a loud moan in response. His hands basically doing all of the work. The pace is merciless. His cock hitting all the right places. “Fuck, daddy, right there!” You yell out, without realizing what had slipped, but Joe fucking loved it. “Say it again.” He orders, moving you faster. “Fuck, daddy!” You gasp out. You can feel the knot tightening in your belly. Joe can feel the way you’re squeezing him, and he knows you’re close.

“You gonna cum baby? Cum all over this dick”

You let out a loud, high pitched whine. “I’m gonna fill you up. You’re gonna look so sexy all big and pregnant with my baby. Fuuckkk” Joe groans, tipping his head back. You yell out as you come apart, his hands holding you in place. Both of your chests heaving. You lean forward and lay your head on his shoulder and slowly lift yourself off of him, both of you hissing.

“That was hot,” you comment breathlessly.

“So hot.” Joe agrees. “You good?” He asks and you lift your head to make eye contact. “So good.”

“But I am a little hungry.” You comment sheepishly, and Joe lets out a loud laugh. “Alright. Let’s go shower and then get you and baby some food”

•••

The next day at work was a busy one. The first pre season game was in just 3 days. You and other players assistants were running around like chickens with their heads cut off trying to prepare everything for the guys. You more than most since you literally work for the quarterback. You felt like you hadn’t had a chance to stop and take a breath.

Finally you were able to retreat to your office for lunch. Gabby already sitting at her desk, smiled at you tiredly as you walked in. “Hey girlie” she says, and you smile at her. “Hey. Heard your load was pretty big today” you comment and she groans. “Don’t remind me—oh my gosh! Y/N, you have blood on the back of your pants” Gabby says, letting out a gasp. You heart falls into your stomach. This isn’t happening.

“Oh my god!” Your eyes begin to fill with tears. “Hey, it’s okay. I have an extra pair of pants in my bag that you can borrow-“

“Gabby, I need you to go get Joe”

“Why would you need Joe for this?” She questions confused. “Gabby please. Just get Joe”

[johnbrand]

BACS

With @mrrharper

“Hopkins,” the coach said curtly to the buff guard at the gate. The security officer barely seemed to register him as a person, rather just an item on his list to check off. Once he was allowed to proceed, Coach Hopkins entered into the corridor and proceeded to the farthest room. Quite frankly, the coach embodied everything a man should be at his age: big, strong, rich. Running one of the country’s top collegiate teams meant he was often provided with ample checks. But an investor had been hinting that the meeting he was about to attend would only raise his profits higher. And now standing before the other guests, Coach Hopkins believed this investor was not mistaken.

Feeling mighty pleased with himself, and honestly a bit haughty, the coach scanned the room, taking in all the other broad, strapping men. There was Coach Larson from one of the major east coast schools, Coach McNamara from the private military academy that swept the competition every year. Coach Hopkins recognized another prominent coach from California, but could not place his name. There were a few more men in the room, engaging in casual conversation about work, but the atmosphere in the space was mildly tense. Instead of acquainting himself with others, Coach Hopkins took a seat and remained there until the presentation began. 

“Gentleman,” the host began. The suit that covered his large frame appeared painted on, tight against his skin. A former collegiate athlete who had stayed in shape; Coach Hopkins could not help but take a moment to respect the work. “Invited amongst you today are some of your finest colleagues in the field. Hopefully you all know why you are here, so we will skip past the pleasantries and get right to the presentation.”

Behind the host, the wall suddenly began to glow. A soft light filtered upon it before focusing on colors and images. Eventually, the display became clear, showcasing live camera footage inside an empty male restroom.

“We believed the best way to explain our product was to show how it works,” the host started slyly. Coach Hopkins watched as the door to the restroom opened, revealing a young college-aged male. By his medium build and uniform, the coach assumed he could have been in lacrosse, baseball, or even a non-tackling football player. His third guess was correct.

“Before us is Dawson Welch, a decent transfer from an undisclosed Division III school. Originally holding potential, he has not yet conformed to our nationwide protocol, otherwise known as BACS for short.”

The four words were then flashed in red at the bottom of the screen. A silly acronym, but one that worked nonetheless.

Beefy          Aggressive          Cocky          Straight

“Our case study is about to demonstrate the results of our program,” the host smiled.

There were a few murmurs from the other men. The California coach even shifted a bit, slightly uncomfortable at what he was about to witness. Coach Hopkins remained silent, observing the subject. By his size and careful actions, he could already identify that three of the required four set standards were missing.

“Tyler?” Dawson called out into the room. “Baby, it’s alright, I’m here now.” The coach nodded with confirmation for the fourth characteristic. Grabbing his phone, the host then sent a simple text message. Thanks to the live camera, the men could all watch as the subject’s own device buzzed. Timidly opening it, Dawson checked his phone.

“Ok Tyler, I am going to open the link you sent me,” Dawson called out, unaware the link was not actually sent from his romantic interest. As if already suspecting the lurking danger behind the text, the subject slowly tapped the link and let it proceed forward. The room lit up in a flash, even blinding the live camera temporarily. The audio did not shut off, but the stream went quiet. Moments later, the men were reoriented back into the restroom.

Murmurs flew around the space once more. A few of their faces displayed shock at the screen presented before them. Coach Hopkins held stoic, but his eyes bore straight on. The scene before him was almost entirely the same. Nothing had changed, except for the subject.

“Gone are the days of your players attending frivolous seminars and engaging in anti-anything protests. Thanks to our technology, we can now guarantee your boys will be real, undeniably American men.” 

Where once stood the rather average athletic young male was now a bulky creature. He was taller, brawnier, and brutish. His uniform had been replaced with a tight, all-black outfit to better display his offerings. The sleeveless tank outlined massive pecs, broad shoulders, a thick core, and made his cannon-like arms bulge out of his sides like an oversized action figure. The running shorts appeared more like briefs, searing into the monstrous thighs that led down to steel calves and feet so large they could not be accommodated at most shoe outlets. Speaking of briefs, Coach Hopkins noted the subject was no longer wearing any; a thick python and a low-hanging set were peeking out of one of the leg holes. 

By the gigantic size, the host could easily confirm his product met the first criteria. And by the backwards cap, arrogant grin, and constant man-handling, the men in the room were all able to confirm the second and third on their own. They had been around these types long enough to know the signs.

“What was I doing anyway, bro?” Dawson asked himself in a voice deeper and duller than his previous offerings. After scratching at his thick pubes and giving it a sniff, an idea suddenly sprung into the subject’s head. Coach Hopkins could sense the process of thinking was a more difficult procedure now then it had been before. “Right, I was gonna see if that chick from last night still wanted to get laid tonight. What was her name, Jenna? Brianna? Maybe she’d be a good lil girl and bag me a threesome? God, that’s so hot…”

The stream cut off shortly after, but not before the subject’s continual groping started to awaken his massive dong. The last image was frozen onto the screen, with Dawson preparing the classic flexed picture his predatory nature utilized to ensnare victims.

“So what do you say, gentlemen,” the host sneered. “Would anyone like to try our trial package?”

[fluentmoviequoter]

A Manly Guard Dog

Requested Here!

Pairing: Tim Bradford x fem!wife!reader

Summary: You've been asking your husband for a dachshund, but he tells you that you need a manly dog. When the K9 unit gets a new recruit, Tim reevaluates his view of dachshunds.

Warnings: teasing/banter, pure fluff

Word Count: 1.2k+ words

Masterlist | Tim Bradford Masterlist | Request Info/Fandom List

“Tim?” you whisper over your dimmed phone screen. “Are you asleep?”

“That depends,” your husband Tim answers. “Why?”

“Look at this.”

“I’m asleep.”

You roll your eyes at his poor attempt to avoid talking to you, even though it is the middle of the night and he has to be at the station in the morning. Despite feeling bad for waking him up, you know he’s awake and need to ask him something important.

“Tim, it hurts,” you add.

“What hurts?” he asks as he sits up quickly. After he pushes up onto his hands, Tim leans toward you and reaches over you to turn on the lamp on your nightstand.

“Look,” you repeat, extending your phone toward Tim so he can see the dog on the screen. “It hurts because I don’t have one of my own.”

“A dachshund? We’re back to this again?” Tim asks incredulously.

“Tim, I want a dog.” Your words are emphasized by your pout, but Tim only grunts as he turns the light off and lies down again.

“If we ever get a dog - big if,” Tim murmurs, “it has to be a manly dog. One that can protect you when I’m not here.”

“We can train a dachshund to be a guard dog,” you argue. “They’re vigilant, loyal, vocal, and easy to train. Tim, it would be perfect and so cute!”

Tim tosses an arm over your waist and kisses your temple before he responds, “Go to sleep.”

As you move closer to him to do just that, he whispers, “I love you, but we’re not getting a wiener dog.”

“Tim, Tim, Tim!” Lucy calls as Tim exits the locker room the following morning. “Oh, you’re not going to believe this.”

“Then don’t tell me,” Tim deadpans.

“So, there’s a new K9, right?” Lucy begins as they walk toward the bullpen.

“And you’re telling me.”

“The trainer brought Officer Fuzz over. Cutest name ever, I know. But when we heard that they were working with a new breed we thought it would be a husky or something. It’s not. It’s so much better. Guess what it is, Tim!”

Tim stops in the middle of the bullpen. A crowd of officers surrounds the K9 trainer, and between two cops, Tim can barely make out the shape of…

“A dachshund?” Tim asks loudly.

“Yes!” Lucy cheers. “Isn’t it awesome?!”

“I can’t believe this.”

“C’mon,” Lucy urges, pulling Tim along by his arm. “Meet Officer Fuzz.”

Tim squats to pet the friendly dog and shakes his head at the tiny K9 vest he’s wearing.

“Nice to meet you, Fuzz,” Tim mumbles. “My wife’s never going to let me hear the end of this, pal.”

“Bradford,” Wade calls from the other side of the circle. “How would you like to take them out for a ride along?”

Tim stands as the trainer adds, “I’d love to join one of the best officers in the field to test Officer Fuzz’s progress.”

“Sure,” Tim answers through gritted teeth. “But are dachshunds really worth anything in a job like this?”

The trainer and Officer Fuzz follow Tim toward his shop, and Tim can’t help but watch the small dog walk happily through the station on his first day.

“If they’re trained right, they certainly can. They’re bred to hunt badgers by tracking scents and entering their burrows. A lot of those skills translate to police dog responsibilities. Basically, because of their intimidating bark, alertness, devotion, braveness and stubbornness - courtesy of their hunting instincts - they’re perfect. Fuzz here can scare a suspect or locate bombs, drugs, you name it.”

“Scare suspects until they see him, you mean,” Tim points out.

“Well, Bradford. Let’s test your theory.”

“LAPD!” Tim yells. “On the ground!”

Behind him, Officer Fuzz barks.

“Is that a dog?” the suspect attempting to steal a sports car asks. “Your car doesn’t say K9.”

“Show me your hands and drop to your knees!” Tim repeats. “Or I can call my K9 partner over here.”

The man seems to weigh his options, then drops his tool and raises his hands over his head.

“Scared of dogs?” Tim asks.

“Police dogs are crazy dangerous, man. Scared is smart, that’s what my-“

“I don’t care who said it,” Tim interjects before he begins reciting the Miranda rights.

When Tim opens the back door of his car, Officer Fuzz growls lowly before barking once.

“Whoa! I’m not sitting by that thing!”

“See the barrier? That’s for your safety, not ours,” Tim says. “Now get in.”

At lunch, Tim pulls his phone from his pocket and begins to type. He hesitates, however, and looks away before he can finish the search.

“Chen!” he calls, waving for Lucy to join him. “Where can I adopt a dachshund?”

Lucy’s eyes widen in excitement before she asks, “You’re getting a dog?!”

“I’m getting my wife a dog.”

“Because of Officer Fuzz,” Lucy states (not asks).

“No,” Tim defends. “No, I just… Dachshunds are a good option for family pets and protection.”

“Which you know because of Officer-“

“Fine, yes,” Tim admits quickly. “Do you know where I can adopt one or not?”

“Maybe you should ask the K9 trainers,” Lucy suggests. “They’ll know where to get a good one.”

“Thanks, Lucy.”

“Sure thing.” Lucy stands to return to her partner, but not before she says, “And I’m glad you’re finally listening to your wife.”

“No, quiet,” Tim commands. “Good. Now, sit.”

“Tim?” you call from the front door.

“Uh, one second!” Tim calls.

He sounds frazzled, and you walk toward his voice before you stop. Tim is whispering to someone, but you can’t make out what he’s saying before the bedroom door opens.

“Hi,” you greet. “Are you okay?”

“You’re home early,” he replies, gripping the doorknob tightly.

You glance at the time on your phone and say, “No, I’m not.”

Tim’s brows furrow as he looks at his watch. He nods, then laughs and locks eyes with you.

“Am I interrupting something?” you ask.

“No, well, yes, but no.”

“That’s not an answer.”

Tim sighs and reaches toward you. You don’t hesitate to step forward and lay your hand on his. With his hand wrapped around yours, Tim leads you into the bedroom, and inside, a brown blur races toward you.

“Tim!” you exclaim as the long-haired dachshund puts its front paws on your leg and wags its tail happily. “A dachshund!”

“Canis lupus familiarias. The K9 trainer that helped me out told me all about them,” he explains.

“Is he…” You trail off, unprepared to hear a negative answer.

“He’s ours,” Tim answers happily. “He’s already been obedience trained and I’m going to work with him to create the smallest but mightiest guard dog you’ve ever seen.”

You pull the dog into your arms and hug him kindly before you lean against Tim’s chest.

“Thank you,” you whisper, looking into Tim’s eyes.

“Sorry I said no for so long.”

“What changed your mind?”

Tim doesn’t answer, and you turn your attention to your new pet, or guard dog as Tim introduced him to you.

“Was it Lucy? I bet it was Lucy,” you whisper to the dog.

“It was Officer Fuzz,” Tim grumbles, wrapping his arm around your shoulders.

“Officer who?”

“New K9 who I’m sure you’ll meet next time you visit the station.”

“I love you.”

Tim kisses your head before he asks, “Wait, me or the dog?”

[reiderwriter]

Okay so I have a small req (Honestly this is more of an hc than anything-but I need to share cuz vshvskhbjks) I feel like Spencer is genuinely so perverted when it comes to his girlfriend??? like if you leave your panties lying around he IS swiping them and he is not ashamed like...he may not do much in public but in private he will grab a handful of your ass or tits when he can like.....In the early seasons, I feel like he'd be a little ashamed but s13+? hell no, especially when it comes to him getting caught being a lil perv gfkjk (FEEL FREE TO IGNORE THIS IF IT ISN'T YOUR CUP OF TEA!!!!)

A/N; Gave this one some ✨️angst✨️ just because I could, but YES TO PERVERTED SPENCER!! YES INDEED!!

Summary; You get to know your coworker well after a decade on the job. You get to know just how much he loves to touch you and just how much you enjoy his hands on you as well. But after prison, something is changed in Spencer Reid.

Warnings: SMUT, 18+ Minors DNI. Masturbation (M, F), oral sex (F), hand job, mentions of somewhat public indecency, groping, grinding, etc, unprotected sex, PinV, creampie, dirty talk.

Spencer Reid had always been a pervert, and it took you six long, quiet months to figure that out. 

When you'd joined the BAU after years of begging for a chance, you were a team expecting field-hardened agents, and for the most part, that's what you'd got. Hotchner was as bureaucratic as they came, Rossi had been at the institution as long as the concept of the BAU had, and the others had some serious qualifications to their names. 

But Spencer Reid was the outlier. He was a bit timid in front of the others, always seemed to put his foot in his mouth when it mattered most and seemed to be patronized around the office a bit until it came to his intellect. 

And you didn't quite know how to act around him until you got to know him very, very well. 

A case in some state or the other had called for emergency motel rooms, unfortunate as some Nascar show or the other was rapidly filling up hotel room spaces everywhere. So, as the two youngest members of the team (and by far the most eager to please), you'd ended up rooming together in a double twin room. 

“So, Spencer, what do you do at night to wind down? Relax after a case?” The motel door had swung shut loudly behind you an awkward three minutes before you started the conversation, and you needed something to break the awkward tension in the room. 

“I… read, I guess?” 

“You're always reading. What book is it today? Dostoyevsky, Tolstoy? Maybe Dickens?” 

In response, he'd just awkwardly held up the book cover for a minute, leaving you to nod and let the conversation peter out. It wasn't the first time one of your conversations with him died out due to a mutual lack of skill, and it certainly wouldn't be the last. 

Giving in, you grabbed your bag and headed for the small bathroom, a strategic retreat to pass the time without having to acknowledge that the teams resident genius was ignoring you. 

Because he definitely was. 

You'd been on the team for six months, and you couldn't quite figure out why he'd never so much as asked you how your day was. He'd be jovially talking with one agent or the other and would clam up as soon as you joined into the fray. 

Spencer Reid was stuck in his shell, you'd been told. He was someone who didn't open up very easily, especially after his first few, very rough years in the BAU. 

You let each concern roll off your back as you showered and cleaned yourself up after a day of dumpster diving for clues. Your next aim was getting out of the shower, dried, and into bed before you felt the weight of his disinterest in you settle any heavier. 

“Hey  I'm all done now, and I'm gonna hit the hay, so bathrooms all yours.”

“Thanks,” he said and immediately strode in, shutting the door behind him without another word. 

You wished you could shake the man. You weren't exactly used to being so pointedly avoided by a peer, and it was honestly making you feel rather indignant. You wanted to grab his attention and hold it any way you could, so much so that your palms started itching. 

The sounds of Spencer's shower interrupted your attempts to rest, so you set about organizing your things instead. Folding your shirts, you placed them in your go bag, taking inventory on how many fresh outfits you had left and how much laundry you'd have left to do when the case ended. 

It could've been the haze of sleep, or perhaps just an early warning bell, but no matter how many times you counted, you always came up short by one pair of panties. It took another minute of blinking out the sleep in your eyes, becoming suddenly alert again, that you realized it was the pair of panties you'd been wearing before your shower. 

“Fuck,” you sighed, trying to fill the deep pit of embarrassment opening in your stomach before it swallowed you from the inside out. “Fuck.” 

When in doubt, you found it best to curse at least twice. 

And just like that your coherent thoughts went out the window - a morning, afternoon and evening doing manual labor under the guise of a nice desk job would do that to any girl - and you found yourself opening the door to the bathroom without knocking first or even remembering Spencer Reid's presence in the room at all. 

He froze in shock as you came face to face with him, shirt and pants open, his long cock in his hands and his face flushed with erotic shock as he rubbed up and down the length of his cock. 

“Shit, fuck, Spencer I'm sorry I was- are those my panties?” 

Rather unabashedly, your eyes hadn't left his crotch as he froze in fear at your intrusion. 

“I'm not a pervert!” He shouted, still unable to let his dick go, so close to bliss as he was. 

“You're madturbating into my panties, Spencer. What other label would you put on that?” 

“You're really hot. It's hard to ignore. I don't usually do this, but they were in here on the floor, and I thought about taking them back out to you, but then you'd think I was a pervert for touching your underwear and then I imagined you thanking me and putting them back on right in front of me and my cock was so hard and you said you were going to sleep. Did you know most men masturbate eight times a week on average? Me doing this once while sharing a room with you for a week isn't statistically …that …bad. Why are you doing that?”  

You'd been done listening halfway through and had somehow found yourself sinking to your knees. He'd rested his body against the bathroom sink, so you organized yourself in front of him, staring up at him innocently as you wrapped your fingers around his hand. 

“I want to see what it was you were doing with my panties, Spencer,” You moved his hand up and down his length, slowly dragging the lacy material across each inch. “Please let me see.” 

The empty shower kept flowing and the room was thick with steam as you kept up a steady pace rubbing up and downs Spencer's cock. 

A sense of achievement hit you with each moan and gasp he let out. Every time his hips thrust up into your hand, each time his hand stroked your hair in thanks for your copious attention. 

You'd finally gotten through to Spencer Reid in a way that you were about to make sure was mutually beneficial. 

His moans got louder and harder to conceal with a bite of the lip as he got closer to cumming. He really was a pervert, letting his coworker jerk him off in a motel bathroom while on a case. He was practically begging for release. 

“Cum for me Spencer. Make my face pretty, please please please.”

His eyes shot open wide as you stuck your tongue out, just in time to taste his cum on your lips. A few stray ropes hit your chin and cheek as well, with the majority staining the panties you'd come in to search for. 

“Thank you, Spencer,” You giggled, wiping away his cum and standing yourself up to come face to face with him. 

“Y/N, it won't-” You cut him off with a kiss that he eagerly returned hands, falling all over your body in his haste to feel every part of you. His tongue pressed into your mouth like he was a cartographer mapping out its caverns, desperate to learn each soft caress you returned off by heart. 

“If you were about to say it won't happen again, I suggest you think again, Spencer. I want this to happen again. Regularly.”

You shut off the shower and turned on your heel, walking back out to the bedroom and out of the heat for a few minutes. 

“You want to jerk me off?”

“Yes.”

“And I'm the pervert?” 

“You were using my panties and your hand like a fleshlight, Spencer. Yes, you are a pervert.”

“I'm a pervert but you still want to jerk me off?” 

“Yes.” 

“Okay.”

That's how it began. Your decade-long escapade with Spencer Reid. It wasn't that you dated. He was still unsure about how to approach you for another few months after that, but there was nothing like the relaxation of a few orgasms to really help you warm up to somebody. 

For the first few years, a case didn't pass without one of you slipping into the others motel room for some late night entertainment. 

You knew just how deep his fingers could hit inside you after only two weeks. You became obsessed with how well his cock could stretch you out, how his hands would gently rub around your clit in circles while you bounced up and down on his length. How he watched your breasts bounce with untold wonder in his eyes. 

You most of all loved that his tongue was as eager to taste you as you had been that very first time to taste his cum. 

Half the times he let himself into your room, he'd satisfy himself by eating you out lazily for hours on end, making you moan his name while you came on his fingers and tongue. Every flash of violet that he caught a glimpse of - that first pair of panties - drove him crazy. 

Motels and hotels and once the back seat of an SUV after a long drive became your time to get closer to your coworker. You never once thought of bringing this physical relationship home with you, though, and it wasn't a continuous thing. 

You'd had to take it easy when he got shot in the leg, not wanting to hurt him anymore. And again, when he'd gotten shot in the neck, though a few times he'd begged you to close his hospital door and help him out still. 

And you'd both distanced yourself after Emily's death and miraculous resurrection. Surprisingly enough,  you'd found your heart slightly twisted when he'd begged the team for help rescuing his girlfriend from a stalker. 

But you always found your way back in his bed with his tongue pressed against yours and his cock buried as deep into you as far as it could go. In the decade you'd been sleeping with the secretly perverted and somewhat insatiable Spencer Reid you'd never gone longer than three months without his body in your bed. 

Until he went to prison. 

The weight of your grief at losing him was unparalleled. You'd been heartbroken when Emily had died, but it paled in comparison to the thought of his isolation. Penelope had to remind you to eat, Luke had to engage you in conversation to keep you talking. 

Emily slipped a spare key to Reid's apartment to you somewhere around the three week mark, and you'd let yourself into a place you'd only ever heard described. You slept in his bed to feel his scent wrapped around you, touched yourself there to remind yourself that you were just feeling the loss of a sexual partner and friend and nothing more. It was lust and sexual frustration driving your depression. That was all. 

Spencer came out different. Everyone did. On the surface, he was still kind, still a little bit nerdy, and he still wasn't the best at reading social cues, but there was an intensity to him that wasn't there before. 

On cases, he'd wrap a hand around your waist and push a hand just slightly under your shirt while you introduced yourself to local detectives. He'd hug you at the end of every work day, breathing in your scent and telling you how tired he was. 

His hand would firmly cover your thigh and not move the entire duration of any car ride, team dinner or family event, and he'd kiss the back of your neck and grope your breasts each and every elevator ride you took alone together. 

Spencer Reid hadn't been able to keep his hands off of you for six whole months, and yet he hadn't actually touched you.

Every time you'd knocked on his motel door, he'd not opened it, and he hadn't once come to yours. 

You'd expected him every day for a week after he'd first gotten out and had even explicitly told him so. You texted your address, invited him over, and sent him pictures of you in those infernal panties that you really didn't wear that often anymore. 

He desired you still, you knew enough from brushing past him and feeling his semi push against your ass, you knew in every hug where he touched you just enough to know he wanted more but still had the control to pull away. 

You knew that he only kissed your neck, because if he kissed your lips his tongue would wander all the way to your cunt and he'd be on his knees between yours making you scream his name in pleasure. 

Spencer Reid wanted to avoid you, but he still wanted you, and after six months of celibacy you were tired of waiting around for him to finally crack. 

Emily had never asked for the spare key back. With 10 years of dalliances under your belt, you were sure the entire office had caught on, if not before prison, then certainly after his hands took possession of your body after his release. She wasn't going to ask for the key back because that was like asking a question she probably would sleep better without having the answer to. 

Spencer started his professorial work, and you finished some nights before he could manage the commute home, so it was easy to let yourself into his apartment for the confrontation. 

When Spencer finally turned his key in the lock, he found you there  on your knees on the floor in a matching violet set of lingerie. Not your originals, but certainly close enough - smaller, though. 

“Y/N, what are you doing here?” 

“I'm just sitting here in my underwear for fun, Spencer. You should try it sometime.”

He frowned at your sarcastic reply but stepped closer to you, topping your head up to meet his gaze with a quick flick of his finger. 

“I mean it, Y/N. Why are you here?” 

“I…I want you to touch me again.” 

“I touch you plenty, Y/N. I touch you here,” he traced your lips. 

“And here.” His fingers fell to your neck, sweeping some hair off your shoulders. 

“And a lot here, too.” He cupped one breast in his hand and gave it a squeeze, and you let your head rest against his thigh as he slipped a finger into your bralette. 

“I want you to touch me more, Spencer.”

“How? How should I touch you? Be a little pervert for me and tell me, Y/N?”

Your breathing faltered for a second as he pinched your nipple and you bit your lip before you told him exactly what he wanted to hear. 

“I want to feel your dick buried deep in my pussy. I want to cum on your tongue. I want you to stretch me out with your fingers and I want you to fill me up with your cum. Please, Spencer, I miss you so much.” 

He said nothing but withdrew his hand from your chest and distanced himself slightly, turning his face away from you. 

“Spencer, please, what's wrong? Did I do something-”

“Do you miss me? Or do you miss fucking me?” The words would regularly send you into an indignant stomp, and part of you was still begging you to let out a shout of “what the hell is that supposed to mean.” 

But Spencer was frozen still in the doorway of his house, almost statuesque as a melancholic look overwhelmed his features. 

Your courage drained your body as you stood up and pulled the shirt you'd earlier discarded back on. 

“Spencer? Look at me, please.” 

He did reluctantly, and that blank expression still filled his eyes with gloom. 

You grabbed his hand and pulled him to the couch, sitting him down and wrapping yourself around him. 

You say there, head pressed into his neck, legs straddling him as his arms slowly came up to pulling you back in. Your heart beat harder by the second, and you counted down the minutes as you worked up courage.

“I missed you so much I drove myself insane. I had to sleep here for a week straight after they told me you were put in solitary. Every day, I thought of your hands on my body and how much I missed seeing your fingers flipping through a book on the jet. I missed asking you what you were reading, and I missed convincing you to put the book down.” 

You pulled your head up to meet his gaze and slowly let your mouth fall to his lips. It was slow, soft. An innocent peck in the context of your usual caresses. It spoke the words I miss you more effectively than your voice could, and neither of you seemed to want to part from the warm embrace. 

“I missed you, Spencer Reid.” You spoke, cutting off your kiss as you grew more impassioned by his touch, breathing harder and speaking faster and faster now as you kept on. 

“I missed you when you came back because you kept your hands on me. You let yourself enjoy my body in public but wouldn't let me share your bed in private. You hugged me, but you wouldn't let me hold you, and you have not once spoken about how you feel, you have not once told me that you are okay now or that you are not okay and you need my shoulder to cry on.”

He was silent until your tears sprung forth, and then he was everywhere around you, kissing the drops from your face, shushing you and whispering words of encouragement and thanks and love into your ears while he placated your breaking heart.

Because somehow you fell in love with the pervert who stole your panties and now you were sitting in a room with a mostly broken man, begging him to use you to feel whole again. 

“I love you, Spencer. Please, please let me touch you.” 

“I love you, too,” he whispered against your lips, hands finding your hips again as he finally pushed his tongue into your mouth. 

His nails bit into the skin at your thighs as he forced you not to move, instead grinding up into you after another heated kiss. 

“It was hard, but you kept me going. Memories of you, your mouth, your scent your wet cunt wrapped around my cock, you kept me alive in that place.” He worked you up with each dirty confession as his hands pushed the shirt back off your shoulders and bared the lingerie to him once again. 

“Then I was out, and you were still the same as I remembered, but I was different, and I needed more from you. But I couldn't take more, and I didn't want to ask you to give more because I could not beg one more person to love me.” 

“You don't have to beg, Spencer, I love you already, I love you I love you I love you.” 

“Y/N, you don't understand. I am completely enamoured with you. I want to possess you, I want to keep you in my room, I want to have a hand on you at all times. I want to put a bullet in any man who looks at you because you are mine. I'm not a pervert, I'm a monster, and I'm going to hurt you.”

“Possess me, hurt me, keep me, Spencer, do whatever you want to me, I will let you. Just please don't leave me.” 

Your teeth clicked together in his haste to recapture your lips again, his cock hard and already sprung from his pants thanks to two pairs of quick working hands. 

He pushed aside your panties, and he was inside you, pressed to the hilt recapturing the place that was home to him. 

“You picked this color for me. You wanted me to lose control and fuck you and you got what you wanted,” he whispered in your ear as you locked your ankles together behind his back. 

“I did.”

“Good. I'm going to rip them shred by shred from your body so nobody else can see you acting like such a desperate wet cunt ever again.” 

You let out a gasp at his words, and his tongue dropped back down your throat as he rutted into you ferociously. 

“Spencer, yes, fuck me. FUCK!” 

Your hips met his in a furious clash, his hand making their way around to your butt cheek as he aided your thrusting, pulling you up and down the length of his cock. 

“That's it, look at your boobs bouncing for me, sweetheart. Your body knows when it's being fucked right, it knows when I'm here, and I'm the only one who can make you feel this good, right baby?” 

“Yes, Spencer. Yes!” 

His hand came back up to your clit as you met his hips more enthusiastically than before, fucking yourself on the length of him. 

“You're going to cum on my cock. Show me how much you missed me,  missed this.” 

“So much, missed you so much, Spence….need your cum inside me, fill me up Spencer, please."

It took both of you only a few more desperate thrusts to reach the climax you'd waited half a year for. You convulsed on his dick, shuddering underneath him as he filled you with rope after rope of cum.

But when you had both caught your breath, you still didn't let go, still holding on to him desperately as of he'd vanidj in another second despite your confessions. 

“Y/N…” he cooked into your ear as you buried your face in his chest again. “Y/N, we need to get you to bed.” 

“I'm not leaving.” 

“No, you're not. But you're not sleeping on my couch either.”

You pulled away just enough to watch his face as he dipped down for another sweetly chaste kiss. 

Lifting himself up, and pulling his cock out of you, you whimpered a little at the loss of his warmth, but after rearranging himself in his pants, he pulled you up next to him and wrapped his arms around you in a bear hug as he slowly walked you back towards his bedroom. 

“You really slept at my apartment?”

“I slept in your bed. I'm sorry, I know it was overstepping, but you were gone and I-”

“Missed me, I know.” His hands traced your spine again before cupping around your bare ass and hooking it under to touch your soaked cunt. 

“How much did you miss me, Y/N? How did you spend your nights here?” His fingers once again hooked under the panties, but instead of pulling them to the side, he quickly pulled at the seams, and you heard a ripping sound aa his eyes demanded the answer to your question. 

“Close the door, and I'll shoe you exactly what I did here, Spencer. I'll show you everything.’ 

[mxigo]

i remember everything (wish i didn't, but i do) | part 1

SERIES SYNOPSIS: logan saved the timeline, but the consequence is that he doesn't remember anything after 1973. now back in 2023, he has missed 50 years of history. including any history of your relationship with him.

WARNINGS: 18+, angst, swearing

WORD COUNT: 2.02k

MINORS & AGE-LESS BLOGS DO NOT INTERACT. YOU WILL BE BLOCKED. YOUR AGE MUST BE SOMEWHERE IN YOUR BIO OR YOUR BYF.

SERIES MASTERLIST | NEXT CHAPTER

“Well, Logan, I guess it would be a bit more efficient if I were to just show you.”

Xavier raised an eyebrow, and Logan felt the presence of his telepathy around his mind, waiting just on the edge. He stood straight before giving a single nod, letting his mind relax around the gentle intrusion.

In an instant, the past fifty years that had changed flooded his mind. The sentinel program never happened, and human attitude towards mutants changed for the better. Jean got the help that she needed early on to completely control her powers, which also meant that she was able to safely get herself and the jet out of Alkali Lake when the dam burst. She never killed Scott, and never joined Magneto when she was consumed by Dark Phoenix. So, Logan never had to kill her. The school was still here, and mutants were, for the most part, able to live peacefully.

Although, there was a blip of a memory that had him stumbling back from Xavier’s desk in shock, the professor slipping from his mind. His mind was reeling, trying to make sense of what he saw.

“Now, Logan—”

“Wh-Who was that? How long ago was that memory?”

Xavier sighed. “Her name is Y/N, but she goes by Halo in the field. The memory that I just showed you happened just a week ago before she left for the mission that she is currently on in Texas.”

A beat passed as the memory played out in Logan’s mind again. It was from Xavier’s eyes, but he could see clearly how he had his hands resting on the hips of a woman he had never seen before, but she was dressed up in an X-Man suit, and he looked at her with such warmth and tenderness. She was also holding onto his biceps as they made their goodbye in the jet’s hangar, but before she stepped away, Logan had tilted her head up for a kiss.

“Is she, I mean, are we—”

“You and Halo have been together for the past four years. If I recall correctly, it was actually you who made the first move, Logan.”

Logan’s head snapped over to Xavier, his eyes wide in disbelief. His vision blurred as he unfocused for just a moment, trying to grasp on this bomb of information. Five years he had spent with a woman that he has no recollection of spending time with, let alone having feelings for, while at the same time he just saw Jean in the flesh and every feeling that he had harbored years ago came rushing back, still as fresh as that very first day.

His mind flickered back to Xavier’s memory, and he knew that the way he looked at her was different than he had ever looked at Jean, but those feelings for this other woman was nonexistent.

Charles sighed. “I understand this is a predicament, and obviously, there is no way for me to just erase old memories and force you to experience the new ones. She and Colossus aren’t due back for a couple more days, but I’ll make sure to speak to Halo once she returns. Please feel free to use the empty room at the end of the same hall should you feel the need for it.”

And just like that, Xavier just rolled out of his office, leaving Logan to deal. He didn’t linger in the office. Instead, he made his way back up to the room that he woke up in, pushing the door open. Now with the urgency to see if he had changed the past gone, he took the time to really take in the room.

The first thing he noticed were the picture frames lined up on the dresser, each one displaying photos of Halo, him, or both. As he walked further into the room, he saw that one of the nightstands had items that would belong to a female, such as hair ties, a tube of fruity chapstick, and some jewelry pieces. The other was nearly spotless, save for a watch and a book titled A Game of Thrones. As he took a deep breath, he picked up a scent that smelled like his own, but it was intermingled with another softer scent, one of vanilla and lavender. There was even an incense holder on the dresser.

The adjoining bathroom was more of the same; feminine haircare products that smelled like the woman’s scent in the bedroom along with a tower of various makeup items in the corner of the sink counter.

He went back into the bedroom and sat on the bed, letting his head drop into his hands as he tried to make sense of his new present. When he volunteered to go back to ’73, he didn’t consider that there would be more personal changes to his life. Yes, he was ecstatic that Jean and Scott were alive, and that the school was still here, but now he was stuck in a timeline where he was seriously involved with someone that he had never met before.

Besides, that was this Logan’s life, not his. He still had all of his memories from the previous timeline. He was sure he was a completely different person from this one’s. She may not even like this Logan. He may not even like her.

~

You groaned as you walked up the stairs leading to the bedrooms floor. All of the aches and pains of the mission finally made themselves known as you pushed yourself up each step, causing a slight limp in your cramped legs. You were thankful the mission was over and couldn’t wait to sleep in your own bed. While it was by no means a very long mission, any mission away from Logan felt like an eternity.

Piotr climbed the steps next to you, completely unfazed and unharmed from the mission.

“What do you think they have whipped up in the kitchen for tonight?” he asked as you both reached the top of the stairs.

“Doesn’t matter. Logan and I always go for Mexican when we get back from missions. There’s a frozen strawberry margarita and a bowl of queso calling my name from Louie’s,” you answered, tilting your head up and gave a large, excited grin.

It was tradition after four years, and there was nothing that was going to stand between you and that queso.

“Sounds like you might love Mexican more than Logan.”

“It’s a tight race,” you giggled, meandering down the hallway towards your room. “I’ll see you later Piotr.”

The X-Man dipped his head in farewell as he continued down the hallway towards his own room, disappearing around the corner. With a sigh, you turned the knob on your door, pushing it open. You were only able to take a single step inside before you saw a figure out of the corner of your eye in the dark. With a flick of your fingers, you sent a ball of light at whoever it was, stopping it right in front of their face.

“Halo, welcome back. I hope the mission went smoothly.”

“Professor,” you gasped, immediately flicking on the bedroom light. “You scared me.”

“Apologies. I didn’t mean to frighten you.”

You stepped further into the room, brushing hair out of your eyes as you began taking the first pieces off your suit. “What can I do for you, Professor?”

Xavier rolled over from his corner of your room, stopping just behind you.

“I’m afraid something has happened that affects you, Halo. You may want to take a seat.”

You look at him weirdly, anxiety starting to settle in your stomach. He gestured towards the bed, to which you complied and sat on, letting yourself lean forward to rest your elbows on your knees. You tried to recall if anything was amiss on your walk up from the hangar from the jet, but you couldn’t recall anything, and not even Piotr was disturbed by anything.

“Is everything okay? Is everyone okay?”

The professor’s face turned grim for a moment before taking a breath.

“To even begin to tell you about what has happened today, I need to tell you about what happened fifty years ago in 1973,” he started. “In my youth, I was a different man, an angry, sad man. For some time, I had closed the school and subjected myself to pity and a downward spiral of hate towards myself. Hank was the only friend I had, and he stayed with me here at the mansion. Until one day, Logan came and practically burst through the front doors, demanding to talk to me.

“He claimed that he was sent back in time to find me, and to change the future, or rather, his consciousness was sent back in time to his then current body. I didn’t believe him at first. It wasn’t until I’d looked into his mind later that he was telling the truth, and there was a horrible future that awaited the world if I didn’t help this man. If I didn’t help break Magneto out of prison and help stop Mystique from killing Trask, then mutantkind would cease to exist. While we did save the world, we also changed the future to what it is now, and the Logan that I met in 1973 was sent from the old future of what would have been today’s date.”

Your heart was thundering in your ears, not believing what you were hearing, but you couldn’t move. Something happened to Logan.

“Well, nothing exactly happened to Logan, dear. But our Logan that we have known since the beginning, is the same Logan that I met in 1973.”

You shook your head, not understanding. “What do you mean, Professor, if nothing has actually happened to him?”

“Halo, Logan does not remember anything since that day in DC in 1973.”

Your world stopped, and your brain froze. “What?”

“Logan has no recollection of anything from our current timeline. In his past, Jean and Scott are dead, the school and the country had been obliterated, and you, my dear, he never met.”

You took a stuttering breath as your throat began to tighten, and tears welled up in your eyes. You looked around the room frantically, searching for something you didn’t know what. The picture frames of the two of you stared hauntingly from the dresser now, and your heart shattered further.

“You-you mean that Logan doesn’t know who I am, at all?” you all but whispered, a stray tear dripping down your cheek.

“He does now, after I showed him what he has missed, but just showing him memories from the outside doesn’t erase his memories from his old past. I’m sorry.”

“So, what do I do now? Just forget everything and pretend that the last six years that I’ve known him just don’t exist anymore?”

“What your next steps are, are up to you, my dear. I would suggest potentially talking to Logan, once you are ready to see him, of course. He may be different, but he is still Logan.”

“But he’s not my Logan,” you whispered, before the dam broke. Gut wrenching sobs ripped from your chest, forcing you to curl in on yourself in front of the last person that you wanted to see you like this.

In a flurry to protect yourself, you rushed past Xavier and into the bathroom, slamming the door. Slowly, you slid down the door and wrapped your arms around yourself, letting the grief take over.

Unbidding, every memory of Logan played through your mind. The first day was when Jean brought you to the mansion, and the first person to officially meet you was him, all cold exterior, but you could see the soft looks that he gave to his friends and the other X-Men. Ultimately, your thoughts ended just over a week ago when he bid you goodbye before your mission. You could still feel his hands holding your waist and the kiss he gave you before the jet took you away.

And you may never have that again.

[cherryheairt]

Law of Attraction

Chapter one: Shielded

Chishiya x reader fanfiction

Starts pre-Arisu entering Borderland, months before

Chapter Two

The Beach must have taken months to establish with all of the people that had been there far longer than Arisu and his friends. This is set right before the Beach's foundation.

warnings for all future chapters: harassment, threats, physical violence, death. typical AIB stuff

Your days were busier than ever since you started college. Studying to be a teacher, which many often pouted their lips and expressed their sympathies when you told them, was not actually as easy as people thought. You had to complete a few hundred hours of your externship on top of classes and your part-time job to pay for said classes.

The work would be fulfilling, eventually. When you finally finished shadowing Mr. Sato, the biggest pain in your ass, you could be free to begin your first official year of teaching and quit your miserable job as a bartender. Contrasting fields, yes, but the tips paid the bills well.

Each night, your shift ended at around two in the morning and you went straight from the bar and to your apartment, passing out and waking up bright and early at seven for your weekday classes. Luckily, most shifts at the bar were on Thursdays and weekends, while all classes and externship hours were during weekdays. After class, it was typically back to the bar to open.

You couldn't complain too much. Besides having a non-existent social life beyond a classroom of fourth-graders and classrooms of college students, you flew under the radar pretty well. No one had it out for you, nor you for them, but any off days you rarely had were not spent in the company of friends or even friendly coworkers, just by yourself in your little apartment waiting for time to pass. A boring and uneventful life. Sometimes you wondered what it was all for, and you had yet to find your answer. You told yourself that after graduation it would all turn out perfect, and you'd live normally while balancing your social life better, maybe even get married after a few years of healthy stability. But that itch was still on the back of your mind, asking, ‘for what?’

Today was booked with all three. After your unpaid shift with Mr. Hana's class and your ‘School and Classroom Culture’ class, you headed to work.

The club was crowded at the end of the week. Friday had brought in a chill every time the door opened, leaving the sweaty atmosphere to be momentarily paused as groups flitted in and stumbled out. You were working on your umpteenth round of the cheapest vodka shots the establishment offered, enjoying the chill despite the brash complaints around you about it. Sliding the shots onto a tray, you nodded for Hana to serve her table.

“Thanks, babe!” She chirped with a wink and shouldered the tray off to the table of cheering ladies.

Onto the next.

A man with jet black hair hovering just over his shoulders and a middle part framing his face sat right at the bar. He seemed jittery and slightly nervous, as if you might say ‘no’ to any request he may have. He was in work uniform, an office you guessed, looking beyond him to see a group of guys dressed the same and gawking at the girls dancing.

“Excuse me?” He began, glancing over his shoulder.

“What can I get you?” You perked up, putting on your best customer service place. Nervous guys were a million times better than the cocky ones who thought they were entitled to seeing more skin or even a dance from you, despite the readily available shows up front. The thrill of what they could not have, you supposed. Guys like this were a blessing, despite their eyes giving away their desires.

He licked his lips shortly, glancing down at your own chest on view through your black tank top before shooting his eyes quickly back up. “Three—no, nine, probably— sake shots.” He stumbled.

You raised a brow, counting him as the sixth. “Is that it?” You asked, moving to pull the bottle from its shelf and a multitude of glasses.

“I'm driving everyone home.” He explained with a slight flush. The men in the back chortled at one another's jokes while he seemed in no rush at all to join them again. After you poured the triple round tray, she handed it off to the guy.

You hadn't even made another full drink for the lady next to him before he was back, tray under his arm and the guys at a table downing their shots behind him. “Here,” he mumbled, politely placing the tray on the sticky counter.

You nodded appreciatively, topping the mojito off with some mint leaves on the rim. The lady smiled and thanked you before rejoining her group of friends, leaving the man standing in front of the bar awkwardly alone.

Seeing as he was the only one, you allowed yourself a brief break to wipe the counter. “Not going to join your coworkers?” You asked curiously.

He squeezed his hands together, shaking his head with pursed lips. “Co-workers.” He corrected.

You nodded understandingly, knowing he must have been coerced into being a DD for some coworkers who didn't want to spend their time sober. “How about a soda?” You offered with a small smile.

Hours passed quickly, customer's faces all bleeding together. The man eventually left with his intoxicated group after lingering around the bar and watching his co-workers and the girls both from a safe distance. You didn't think much about him after, focusing on cleaning your station and heading the hell home.

Hana brushed against you behind the bar, helping herself to a generous double shot of a lemon drop cocktail-her absolute favorite despite your sour face whenever she offers one to you-and leans against the counter to sip on it while you finish up.

"Doing anything tomorrow? I was thinking of getting dinner with some girlfriends and barhopping afterward." She suggested with a lift of her glass.

"I can't." You sighed. "Got a project to finish, then work again tomorrow night."

Hana leaned her head back as if she were wounded. "You alwaysss 'can't'. Come on, babes, live a little. You're only twenty-two, and you live like an old hermit."

You couldn't disagree. "Next time, Hana. I promise."

She sends you a sympathetic smile. "If you ever need anything, you got my number."

"I know. Thanks," you offer weakly.

Despite the chill on the walk to the train, you still felt the residue of the club on your skin and clothes. You smelled like beer and liquor over old perfume, something you'd unfortunately grown used to. Although your own insensitivity didn't stop others from giving you disgusted glances passerbys gave you as if you were stumbling around the streets of Tokyo begging for cash.

Relaxing into a seat, you felt the grogginess of the day wash over you. As much as you fought against it, you fell asleep in your empty train car.

Jerking awake at the dinging of the last stop call, you promptly collected your belongings. You jumped up and off the train, climbing the stairs and out onto the dark streets. Completely empty and nearly pitch black, you were stopped in your tracks. No people being outside at 3 a.m wasn't a crazy thing in this part of town, but the streetlights being down? You clutched your bag tight, wondering if you'd stepped into a horror movie shooting.

As you continued down the path towards your apartment, you brought up your phone to glimpse at the local news and electrical issues.

When the phone wouldn't even turn on, you began to panic. Shoving your things into your bag, you started to briskly walk home. The way was only lit up by the full moon, making reflective street signs possible to navigate around with.

When the first firework ‘popped!’ in the skies and whined all the way down, you jumped. “Fireworks?” You muttered aloud, stepping off the sidewalk to get a better view in the street. Abandoned cars littered it, but you forced yourself to ignore them in favor of this all being a high-budget movie scene. That hope could only last so long.

If the streets were really being rented out, then why wasn't the skyline of Tokyo at least still lit? It was virtually impossible to clear an entire city for a piece of media, no matter the budget.

Finally, you spotted a faint light coming from a distant building. You sprinted towards it, seeing it as your only chance for answers or other people. Let it be a prank, you silently pleaded.

When you reached the place, you read the lit sign, humming at the frank realization that this place was something like an office building. It was tall and skinny, with a logo you didn't recognize on it. Another building sat parallel to it with a bridge connecting it but it stayed unlit. Gingerly, you stepped into it and flinched as a robotic voice called out.

“One player registered. Waiting for others. Please take one phone per person.”

It was then she realized there was a silver table with a bunch of lines neatly lined up. When she grabbed one, it spoke again. “Reading facial I.D.” When you saw your name written across the white screen in bold black letters, your heart dropped to your stomach.

There was no time to dwell when another person wandered into the building. You turned to them, hoping that this person might be the one who revealed any answers, but were only met with a mirrored face. A woman, slightly taller than you with pajamas on but an alert expression. “What's going on?” She asked, voice small.

You looked behind her, seeing a foreign man enter with a disciplined calmness. “I don't know. You're the first people I've seen.” You told her, earning a frown. You both seemed to have the same idea by looking at the older man. He shrugged, glancing around.

“I was wonderin’ why all those fireworks was goin’ off.” He said tiredly.

More people entered, and a familiar face finally showed up. The man from the bar, who immediately also perked up upon seeing your face. You found each other quickly, standing side by side after everyone picked up a phone. Even if you didn't know each other, the slight comfort was like grasping at straws.

He whispered to you, suspiciously looking at all of the other strangers. “Do you know what the hell is going on?”

With a hopeless shake of your head, the man sighed and melted into the wall. Cutting off the scared murmurs, the robotic female voice spoke again. “Registration closed. There are fifteen players.”

A white screen lit up at the top of the elevator.

Displayed on it as well as being read out loud: “Game: Fishbowl. Difficulty: Three of Diamonds.”

“Diamond?” You asked, getting no answer from anyone else.

“Objective: Find the exit to the mazes on each floor. There are 10 levels total. Clear conditions: Make it to the roof before the timer runs out.”

“That sounds easy enough.” A teenager's voice broke through the silence.

“Yet it doesn't explain why we're doing a game in the first place. I'm going home, fuck this.” Another guy grumbled, obviously too irritated to continue playing the random game. When he turned his back and went through the entranceway doors, the small red-lined lasers shot through him like knives.

The room erupted in panic and screams. No one was silent or still, and you stood next to the wall with warm splatters of blood on your face and clothes. With a trembling hand, you reached up to wipe a bit off, revealing the same red that touched everything else in the lobby.

“Game start. Time: Three hours.”

“Is that all we have?” You whispered, the taller man beside you eyeing the scene and the dead man silently. He seemed to straighten from his slouched and nervous posture, eyebrows knitting together like he just solved something. Without a word, he brushed past you and to the stairwell.

It let him open the door, and he disappeared up the stairs whilst everyone still flurried about.

You were quick to follow, not wanting to meet the same grizzly fate as the dead man. There would be time to figure out whats and hows and whos later—when you were safe at home.

Up the first floor of stairs, the second level's door opening and displaying a big ‘1’ on it.

The man opens it, and you are surprised to see office-like cubicle walls climbing to the top in wide rows. It was like the real office was gone and changed out with an entirely new structure. Along the white walls were some paintings still hung up and some plants somehow decorating the ugly carpet in a few corners.

He took the lead, stepping with a newfound confidence. “Wait!” You urged. “What if there's more lasers?”

He looked over his shoulder, shrugging. “Maybe, but we'll just have to find out.”

Slightly irked, you followed still. After about ten minutes, you were both utterly lost. Others had joined and started to play as little ducklings following their mother, but you supposed it would be hypocritical to judge when you had done the very same.

“We've been around the floor a hundred times!” He exaggerated, brushing his hands through his hair.

“Have some patience.” You bit. “You're freaking me out.”

Going back to the stairwell, you retraced your steps and started again.

Using the method of right-hand-to-wall as you typically followed in video games, you began to lead in front.

More minutes passed and more dead ends appeared. The windows where the main walls of the building showed the empty night sky and the next door building reflecting the moon light still. You checked your phone, seeing a flashing ‘2:32: left on your timer. Thirty minutes had passed and floor one wasn't even completed.

“Shit.” You started to run back to the start, practically having it memorized by now. You ran into the stairwell again, wincing when you half-expected the doorway to laser you down but continuing in your rush when it hadn't. The doorway to the third floor was locked, as expected, but different from the second floor, it had a small pin pad on its knob.

How obvious. All fourteen of you had spent over thirty minutes looking for a door when it was behind you all along. “We need digits!” You yelled into the doorway.

A few stragglers waited at the doorway, not having any use while most continued their search. “Look for any numbers!” The man shouted louder in your echo, leaving the room to burst into murmurs and leave plants and paintings tossed around.

The teenager came running to the door, panting but with a satisfied smile on her face. “Look! It has a ‘4’ on the back!”

The players all cheered, and you held the painting backwards to inspect. “How do we know what order to place them in?” You muttered to yourself. In a matter of minutes all of the paintings that carried numbers were laid in front of the doorway.

‘4’ ‘2’ ‘3’ ‘1’

“There's way too many options.” An old man with a hunched back spoke up darkly. “There's no time to do this for every floor.”

“Flip them.” Your club companion said.

On the fronts were simple but quite beautiful paintings of scenery. A pond, a park, a forest, and a beach.

An idea shot into your mind as you inspected the order of them. Kneeling in front of them, you arranged the paintings in the order of their backgrounds. Sunset, to noon, to afternoon, and finally to dusk. “Read them out to me in this order.” You told the man, who nodded as his eyes lit up in realization.

At the keypad, you fingered the digits he yelled out to you. “Three, two, four, one!”

It clicked open. You cheered and beckoned for the rest. After the first puzzle was solved, eight more went by smoothly. It was the same concept, only getting slightly harder as it went up. Stages of a frog, generations of a family, technological ages of humanity, and so forth until the 10th door was unlocked. Only one more door and you would be out.

When the door opened, you were stunned to see that all the walls were glass. The entire room was see-through, including the outer walls and the view from the height was nearly nauseating from all the clarity. “Everyone…” Someone called out in fear. They stood on one of the last steps behind the group. “Water is rising.” They lifted their feet up, revealing sopping wet shoes and ends of her pant legs. She scrambled to the upper steps, and everyone followed suit to get away from the water. This time, there was a clear red door on the other side of the room.

You swallowed harshly at the rapidly rising water, realizing that even closing the door behind you didn't make it any slower as it seemed to ooze out of the very walls themselves. Cubicles showed themselves, lighting up on the floor in a blinding white. “One player per room. All living players must solve their puzzles before the time runs out.”

The buzzer went off and doors opened to allow all fourteen of them into the rooms. The man and her were parallel, eyes meeting with you showing signs of nerve and him seemingly gaining confidence on his own.

A screen rose in front of you, sticking out of the water and coming to life with a riddle on its screen. “What does everyone's screen say?” You asked, hoping to collectively solve it.

“Something about two birds.” The teen replied with a desperate look to you.

“Mine is a math equation.” Another said.

The old man piped up, beginning to read off his own question though he was easily drowned out in all of the noise.

You looked to your own, which seemed daunting on its own. What happens when you get it wrong?

Your answer came in a nightmare. The old man had selected a random option in hopes of guessing correctly, and everyone could only watch on as his cube was immediately flooded to the brim with water. His lights turned bright red and you turned your gaze away and covered your ears to prevent the sight and sounds from implanting themselves in your head forever.

When it all got quiet, you checked your phone again.

‘0:08’

Eight more minutes. Your cube's water was already to your waistline and climbing still. You focused on your own question although the urge to answer other's pleas for assistance and confusion nagged at you insistently. The sound of more water and more screams and choked gargling was all that was left in the room as your water rose above your head, too.

‘What is the last number in the sequence?

895371’

You scanned over the sequence repeatedly, seeing flashes of white lights turning red around your peripherals and one turning green.

Entering a sloppy, ‘1’ in the keypad, you kicked up to the top of the cube to gasp in what little air was left at the top. Looking around you saw no one except for the club man. Your own cube's lights flashed green, and the click of the doors could vaguely be heard above the sound of rushing water. You both dived under, pushing at your doors.

His budged open immediately and he swam up and towards the exit door that lead up. You kept pushing at your own, heart racing and running out of air, but nothing made it open. Going topside again, you shouted out. “My door is jammed!”

He stopped in place, the few inches left of water between him and the ceiling showing his wet lashes looking down his nose at you. Clenching his jaw, he looked rapidly between the door and you. Finally, he clicked his tongue and pushed off the glass to your area.

In sync, you held your breaths for the last time and swam down to the door. You nodded, signaling for him to pull and you to push. After a few tries, the water-jammed door pried open and you swam together towards the red door.

You tried your hardest to ignore the lifeless floating bodies that were at the top of each cube.

It opened outwards, the two of you being flung against the wall by the water that rushed down the stairwell. A shout of pain left his lips below you and you scrambled up, panting out and apologizing for cornering him and possibly bruising his ribs.

The water didn't stop there, following you both as you ran up more stairs and onto the roof. Hands on your knees, you coughed up the remaining water from your throat and lungs and sat down, elbows shakily supporting your body. What had happened in the last three hours? You had just witnessed thirteen people die in one night when you hadn't seen a single death in your life prior.

Who put you here, and for what purpose were you playing these games?

Your phone chimed. “Game cleared. Visa days added: 3 days remaining.”

You and the man stood alone on the roof, not a single other survivor from the game alive. You weren't sure if there was any person in this world left alive, either, besides from you and him.

“You owe me.” He said with an ominous one. “Don't forget that.”

“I won't.” You promised. Then after a long pause, you added your name in a smaller tone.

“Niragi.” Was all he offered, and you briefly wondered how just over three hours ago, this man was meek and clearly a pushover in every aspect of his life. Now, everything about him seemed straighter and more intimidating.

Sticking by him, you were unsure if it meant being thrown to the wolves at the first sight of danger or defended in a play of arrogance. Though your common sense urged you to leave at the first sign of his distraction, you stayed firmly planted by his side.

Perhaps there was some benefit to this strange and peculiar world, no more work and no more rent. Safety was in numbers, after all, and having a guy like Niragi might save your ass again.

This is not a Niragi fic, although it may seem like it at first; more like a toxic and controlling relationship (think Coriolanus Snow and Lucy Grey). Changing his character slightly, Niragi has not attempted to SA anyone and will not in the future- his character had so much potential beyond that. His appearance change (piercings) doesn't start in his personal life like in canon and his job as a game designer was an office job instead of a WFH job

[novascharms]

teach please me — tutor!reader x soccer player!rafe

reader's life is meticulously planned, from high school to becoming president of the country—she knows exactly where she's headed and every step to get there. but her airtight plan hits a snag when the principal ropes her into tutoring rafe cameron, the school’s star soccer player, who’s failing algebra and at risk of being benched next season. the team needs him on the field, and reader needs the principal’s glowing recommendation to secure her spot at her dream school. balancing her ambitious goals with rafe’s chaotic charm might just throw her perfectly crafted plan off track.

word count — 2.9  chapter index — prev. chap. — next chap. masterlist

nine 

tuesday, february 4th

rafe’s house was nothing like you’d imagined. for some reason, you’d assumed it would mirror him—bold, maybe a little intimidating, with an edge that kept you guessing. but it didn’t. it was a california coastal house, nestled right by the beach, with open spaces, too many windows, and sliding glass doors that made the whole place feel like it was constantly trying to let the outside in.

it wasn’t ugly—far from it—but it felt impersonal, like something plucked straight from a magazine. it just didn’t feel like rafe.

“found him,” rafe’s voice pulled you out of your thoughts. he strolled into the sleek, sparsely decorated kitchen with dona tucked securely in his arms. the small dog blinked up at you, and your heart melted on the spot.

“hi, buddy,” you beamed, leaning forward eagerly as rafe handed him over. “hey, cutie.” you scooped dona up, cradling him against your chest like he was the most precious thing in the world.

“he was hiding in my mom’s office,” rafe explained, leaning against the counter. “he’s so quiet, she didn’t even notice he was there.”

it was true—dona was the quietest dog you’d ever met. you couldn’t even recall hearing him bark before. was that normal? you made a mental note to research silent dogs later.

“he’s so sweet,” you whispered, stroking his soft fur and holding him close. “i just want to keep him in my pocket forever.”

rafe chuckled, sitting beside you on the kitchen island. “pretty sure he’d love that,” he said, watching as dona curled up contentedly in your lap.

the island was smooth, polished to perfection, but the kitchen itself felt untouched, like it had been designed for show rather than actual use.

you looked down at dona, unable to take your eyes off him. “i don’t think i can focus on anything else for the next two hours,” you murmured, gently scratching behind his ears. “maybe we should reschedule.”

rafe laughed, the sound warm and familiar, though it startled dona, who shifted slightly in your lap. you swatted rafe’s shoulder. “don’t bother him,” you hissed, trying not to smile.

“midterms are in a month,” rafe reminded you, his tone a mix of teasing and genuine. “don’t leave me hanging.”

you groaned softly but relented, cracking open his algebra book. “fine. but dona stays right here.”

“deal.”

as you explained the next chapter, you couldn’t resist sneaking glances at dona every few minutes. he napped peacefully, his small chest rising and falling, and it took everything in you not to smother him with affection. fortunately, this chapter was easier, and rafe caught on quickly, diving into the exercises with a focus you didn’t always see in him.

you watched him work, giving him space to make mistakes and correct them as he went. at first, you focused on his process, the way his pencil hovered before he committed to an answer. but then your attention drifted—to his concentrated expression, the way his brows furrowed slightly when he wasn’t sure of something.

his hair, tousled and messy, fell into his eyes, and you found yourself wanting to reach out and brush it away. he chewed on his pen cap absentmindedly, his lips pursed just so, and suddenly you weren’t thinking about algebra at all.

it had only been two days since that night in your room when rafe had confronted you so forcefully that you’d been left reeling. for the first time in your life, you’d gone against one of your plans—your carefully constructed, foolproof plan—simply because he’d asked.

the scariest part was how easy it had been to give in. there hadn’t even been a debate in your head; you’d just done it. and now, you couldn’t quite bring yourself to cut him loose. the thought of not seeing him anymore felt heavier than it should have, like something you weren’t ready to carry.

things between you weren’t the same, not really. there was a distance, subtle but undeniable, and you couldn’t tell if he felt it. you hoped he didn’t because it was the only way you could continue this friendship in any capacity.

"i just heard that angelo called callie to tell her that—" a young girl, maybe thirteen, with dark brown hair tucked behind black-framed glasses, walked into the kitchen mid-sentence. she stopped short when her eyes landed on you and rafe sitting at the kitchen island. her gaze darted between the two of you, assessing the situation with a curious tilt of her head. "jenny, i'll call you back later," she said quickly, pulling the phone from her ear and hanging up.

you glanced at her, then at rafe, who was already setting his pen down with a smirk. "hey, wheeze. don’t let us interrupt," he said, leaning back in his chair. "i bet jenny’s dying to know what angelo told callie."

she rolled her eyes, shaking her head as she stepped closer, her elbows resting on the cool marble of the island across from you. "he told callie that jamie told him he doesn’t want to be with jenny anymore, which would totally break her heart, but she’ll recover," she said, delivering the gossip like a headline.

"this is my little sister, louisa," rafe said, gesturing toward her with a casual wave of his hand. she grimaced immediately at the mention of her name.

"just say wheezie," she corrected, scrunching her nose as if the full name physically pained her.

you smiled warmly. "nice to meet you, wheezie. i’m y/n, rafe’s tutor."

her eyes lit up with recognition, and she pointed accusingly at rafe. "oh, you’re the reason i’m stuck eating dinner alone with mom and dad twice a week."

"i’d argue that it’s rafe’s fault for failing algebra in the first place," you quipped, the words slipping out before you could second-guess them.

wheezie burst out laughing, a high, genuine sound that echoed through the kitchen, while rafe placed a dramatic hand over his chest, feigning offense. "god, take it easy," he groaned, though the grin on his face betrayed him.

you shrugged, running your fingers through dona’s fluffy fur as he dozed beside you, his little paws twitching occasionally in a dream. wheezie was still laughing as she pushed off the counter and started to head out of the room. "i like her," she called over her shoulder, glancing back with a mischievous grin. "you should keep this one."

you knew she was joking, her tone playful and light, but her words hit differently. they echoed in your mind, intertwining with cora’s comment about there being a new girl every day. your thoughts began to spiral.

how many girls had sat right here, in this exact spot? how many had met wheezie? had they laughed with her the same way, joked with rafe like this? suddenly, the weight of it all—the lingering questions you hadn’t dared to ask—pressed heavily on your chest.

"it’s just you and your sister?" you ask softly. rafe shakes his head, the movement slow and deliberate. "i have a twin," he says, almost like it’s nothing.

your eyes widen, and if dona weren’t napping peacefully on your lap, you’d scream. "what? you have a what?" you gasp, leaning forward, incredulous.

he laughs under his breath, the sound low and almost teasing as he scribbles on his notebook. "i have a twin," he repeats. "you know, when a baby splits apart in the stomach and—"

"i know what a freaking twin is, rafe!" you hiss, sliding his paper away from him. his head lifts, amusement sparking in his eyes as he looks at you. "how did i not know this?" you whisper-yell, your voice sharp but quiet enough not to disturb the dog in your lap.

still chuckling, he pulls out his phone, scrolling for a moment before sliding it across the table toward you. you grab it quickly, the screen lighting up with a picture of a girl.

"she’s beautiful," you mutter, the words slipping out absentmindedly as you study the image.

"she is, right? her name’s sarah," he says, his gaze softening as he looks at the picture. but there’s something about his smile—it doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

"she doesn’t go to our school?" you ask, confused. you’d never seen her around, never even heard a whisper about "rafe’s twin."

"she doesn’t live here," he says simply, locking his phone and setting it aside. the shift in his tone makes you pause, your attention fully on him now. he’s fiddling with his pen, spinning it between his fingers like it’s the only thing grounding him.

"we have a… complicated relationship," he begins, his voice quieter now, tinged with something you can’t quite place. "a lot of ups, a lot of downs." his words come slowly, deliberately. "her leaving was… inevitable, i guess. it had to do with a lot of things—some of it was my fault, some of it was stuff i couldn’t control. ultimately, space just… felt like the only option. she lives with my aunt now."

"do you see her much?" you ask carefully, not wanting to push too far.

he hums, shrugging lightly. "less than i’d like," he admits, his lips pressing into a thin line. "but she was just here for christmas." his expression falters for a moment, the vulnerability on his face making your chest ache. you want to smooth away that little frown, want to say something to make it better.

"we can stop talking about it," you offer gently, tilting your head to catch his gaze.

his eyes meet yours, searching for something, and then he shakes his head. "no," he says firmly but not unkindly. "she should be talked about. she’s really, really great. i don’t talk about her enough."

"why is that?"

he hesitates, the words sticking to his tongue before spilling out. "i’m… protective," he admits, his voice low. "i want to protect her. her reputation, her choices… everything. i don’t want anyone talking shit about her because of the stuff we’ve been through. and honestly—" he pauses, running a hand through his hair, his laugh soft and bitter. "—it just really fucking hurts."

your heart twists at the way his voice breaks, the way his fingers curl tightly around the pen in his hand. "i feel like no one’s ever going to get me like she does," he continues. "and then there’s the twin thing, you know? it’s like… walking around lopsided all the time. like something’s missing. she’s missing."

as if sensing his distress, dona stirs, lifting his head and turning his sleepy gaze toward rafe. you smile softly, reaching down to pick him up and hand him to rafe. his arms encircle the small golden retriever instantly, and he pulls him close, burying his face in his fur for a moment.

"thanks, buddy," he mutters, his voice muffled. "such a good boy."

"it’s obvious you love your sister more than anything," you say honestly, your voice quiet but firm. "and it’s obvious you have a bond no one else could ever understand. i know you’ll find your way back to each other eventually."

he looks up at you, a small smile tugging at his lips. this time, it’s real.

"you know," he says after a beat, "we were born holding hands."

"wait, seriously?" you lean forward, eyebrows shooting up in surprise. "that’s amazing. there has to be some kind of paper or article about that, right?"

"yeah," he says, his smile widening just a little. "we were even on the news for it."

"how did i not know this? that’s so cool. how does something like that even happen?"

he shrugs, scratching dona behind the ears. "i don’t really know. our mom had a c-section, and we just… came out holding hands. i think about it all the time."

you grin, your chest feeling a little lighter. "see? even more proof that you’re connected for life."

he nods, his gaze dropping back to dona as a soft hum of agreement escapes his lips.

you straightened up at the sound of footsteps approaching from behind, and rafe glanced past you. "hey, dad," he greeted casually.

curious, you turned to see a man who bore a striking resemblance to rafe, carrying three paper bags in his hands. "evening," he said with a nod toward rafe before his gaze shifted to you. "you must be y/n. the tutor. it’s nice to meet you. i’m rafe’s father."

his handshake was firm and businesslike—not overly warm, but far from cold or intimidating. you appreciated the straightforwardness of it.

"yes, that’s me," you replied with a polite smile. "it’s nice to meet you, too. i really appreciate you inviting me for dinner—you didn't need to do that."

"of course, we did." a soft, welcoming voice caught your attention, and you turned to see a woman descending the staircase. her smile was radiant, warm in a way that instantly made you feel at ease. "you’re tutoring my son for free and feeding him twice a week? we should be inviting you over every week."

you couldn’t help but smile at her sincerity. "he’s a good student. he makes my job easy," you said, glancing at rafe.

his mom walked over to him, pressing a kiss to the top of his head and ruffling his hair in an affectionate gesture. rafe groaned softly in protest, brushing her off with a half-smile as she moved toward her husband, who was already unpacking the food.

"that’s a relief to hear," mr. cameron said, his tone carrying a subtle hint of authority. his eyes narrowed slightly as he gave rafe a pointed look. "don’t waste this girl’s time."

"i’m being an exemplary student, don’t worry," rafe replied smoothly, though the quirk of his lips suggested he wasn’t taking the admonition too seriously.

"regardless, i’m very happy you’re here," mrs. cameron said, her voice warm as her eyes, which you now realized mirrored rafe’s almost exactly. "i’d like to show my gratitude however i can."

"thank you. that’s really kind," you said softly, struck for a moment by how much of her charm and warmth rafe seemed to have inherited.

"rafe, go get your sister," mr. cameron instructed, turning back to the bags. rafe nodded, pushing off the counter to head upstairs just as your phone buzzed in your lap.

you glanced down at the screen, spotting hazel’s name flashing with an incoming call. when you looked up, mrs. cameron was already watching you, her expression understanding. "go ahead," she said with a small wave of her hand. "we’ll wait a couple of minutes."

you smiled gratefully. "thanks," you murmured before slipping into the hallway, phone in hand, leaving the warm hum of the cameron household behind for just a moment.

“hello?” you call out softly, your voice barely echoing as you walk through the wide, pristine hallway. the walls are lined with pictures and art pieces, each one meticulously arranged. there are plenty of rafe and wheezie—candid smiles, school portraits, snapshots of them growing up. sarah’s presence is sparser, almost like an afterthought, but she’s still there in glimpses. a photo of her by the beach, another of her with their mom, both smiling like they’re sharing some private joke.

your phone buzzes in your hand, and hazel’s voice spills into your ear, sharp and annoyed. “are you still at his house?”

you wince, knowing exactly where this is going. “yes, hazel, i’m still at his house,” you say, your tone gentle, trying to diffuse her frustration before it spirals.

she sighs loudly, her irritation evident. “i don’t like that you’re there.”

you walk over to one of the massive windows, the kind that seems to stretch forever, letting in streams of golden sunlight. outside, the pool glitters under the sun, the water sparkling like a lure. it looks so inviting, and for a moment, you imagine dipping your toes in, though you know the water would be icy cold.

“like you haven’t made it abundantly clear,” you smile, trying to keep the edge out of your voice.

“are you sure he’s not going to hurt you again?” hazel presses, her concern bleeding through the frustration.

“he won’t,” you say firmly. “the first time wasn’t even really his fault. it was mine.”

“you’re sure he has good intentions? i feel… iffy about him.”

you take a slow breath, your fingers brushing against the edge of the curtain as you stare out at the idyllic backyard. “hazel, it’s fine,” you assure her, but she isn’t convinced.

“how do you know?”

“because he’s not a bad guy,” you say, the words steady but soft. “i agreed to do this, and i have to see it through.”

“just promise me you’ll keep your distance. don’t let him get too close.”

“okay, i won’t,” you say, the words automatic.

“promise!”

“alright, i promise. i won’t let him get too close.”

“because you don’t want a repeat of last week, right?” her words sting more than you expect, the memory of your little breakdown flashing vividly in your mind.

“no,” you say quietly, “i do not want a repeat of last week.”

“alright, then you better listen to me. don’t play games with me, y/n,” she says, her tone softening slightly but still firm.

“okayyy, mom.” you drawl, a hint of teasing slipping into your voice, trying to lighten the mood. “stop scolding me now.”

“whatever,” she mutters, but you can hear the affection hidden in her exasperation. “i love you. call me when you’re on your way home.”

“mkay. love you too.”

you hang up, slipping your phone into your pocket and taking one last glance at the sparkling pool before turning back to the house. hazel’s words linger, her concern wrapping around you like a tether, but you shake it off. you’d promised her, after all.

chapter index — prev. chap. — next chap.

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[nineteenninety-six]

Hi! I’m not sure if you write for the pesky blondes anymore but I loved all your word with them! Could you do one with daughter reader, who tries really hard at school or a sport (like comporting or winning lots of medals) to impress Tommy who is distant with her but end up giving up after a while because he doesn’t pay attention to it? And he only notices because Polly or another family member asks about and she goes “oh, I dropped it.” And they realize why and confront Tommy about it? It can end however you want otherwise, thank you!

AN: Hi, omg can you believe it's been almost 2 years since I last posted something and I have tried to write over the last couple years but I struggled. Anyway, hopefully this is good and you like it as it's been forever since I wrote and it's probably ooc since I haven't watched PB in forever either.

Born years before the war to a mother that died shortly after, and her father sent away to the war when she was still a child, YN’s relationship with her father was almost non-existent. She was too young to have any memories of him before he left and when he returned, he wasn’t the same man, a shell of his former self.

She had been mostly raised by her Aunt Polly even after her father and uncles return from the war and her father had his moments of trying to be involved with her life but those moments never lasted long, usually inspired by some near death moment that reminded him of the preciousness of life before he pulled himself into some other sort of all encompassing drama that had him disappearing from her life for months on end.

YN was eager for her fathers acknowledgment, not even approval but the mere recognition of her existence and so she decided to try and prove herself to him, to show how smart and what a good daughter she was.

Things changed when Charlie was born and her father married Grace but once again that didn’t last once Grace died as her father disappeared once again and she was left at Arrow House with her baby brother and the house staff and so she focused on helping the staff with Charlie and studying hard at school, getting some of the highest grades in her year but even that did not capture the attention of her father and so she tried something else.

⋅───⊱༺ ♰ ༻⊰───⋅

“Horseback riding?” Her father glanced up at her from his seat behind his grand desk in his office.

“They offer it to year ten and I thought…” YN nodded, referencing the expensive elite private school that her father sends her to.

Her father pursed his lips and sighed, “You have more than one bloody horse out there…”

YN glanced out of her window to the vast paddocks and fields that surrounded Arrow House before turning her focus back to her father, “It’s not the same father. You rarely allow me to take Sweetcorn or Biscuit out for rides and you certainly don’t allow me to have a hand in their care but at school I’ll learn how to ride and compete with them along with taking care of them”

Her fathers gaze was heavy but she did not buckle under its weight.

”And what about your other classes? Tennis, ballet, swimming, golf…”

YN paused at the mention of the extra classes she was participating in, not even realizing her father knew but she guessed that since he was paying for everything he had to.

“Well, I’ve been managing with my classes so far, what’s one more” YN shrugged, shooting her father almost a sheepish smile

Tommy watched her for a few more moments before he sighed and signed her permission slip before holding it out for her, “If this is what you wish”

YN grabs the slip with a thankful smile, hoping that this is what will hopefully get her father to become more involved in her life.

”Thank you, father”

⋅───⊱༺ ♰ ༻⊰───⋅

YN scanned the crowds looking for her father, her eyes darting from left to right, eyes peeled wide open as if it would help her find the brooding brummie but to no avail, but she did see her younger brother, her aunt and her uncles all cheering from her in the stands not far her and while she smiled and waved back at them her heart sunk at the non-appearance of her father.

Here she was at a national competition, competing against the best in the country, yet her father was nowhere to be seen. A whole year of hard practice, six days a week along with juggling her other sports and school, to try and impress her father and he hadn’t even bothered to show his face.

Feeling eyes on her, YN looked around and found her aunts scrutinising eyes on her and so not to arouse suspicion, YN swallowed the bitter taste in her mouth and sent her aunt a smile that she was sure that the older woman did not believe for a single moment, before turning around and heading to her stall where her trainer was waiting for her.

Two hours later and still no sign of her father, YN stood at the top of the podium with her trophy in one hand, bouquet in the other and a grin forced on her face after she won and she kept her eyes on her younger brother, on his bright smile and loud cheers and not on the space that should contain their absent father.

⋅───⊱༺ ♰ ༻⊰───⋅

Christmas Day at Arrow House was always a grand event with all of YN’s uncles, aunts and cousins travelling to Warwickshire on Christmas Eve to start their annual celebration and though YN was quite a bit older than her cousins, she enjoyed spending time with them anyway.

The whole family sat around the large table in the dining room, everybody talking over each other and YN was brought out of conversation with her aunt Ada by her aunt Polly asking a seemingly innocent question.

”YN, when is your next ballet recital? The last one was a joy to watch.”

YN took a nervous sip of her water before she answered, “Oh, I um stopped ballet.”

Polly look at her in surprise as Esme chimed in,

“Oh with all the extracurriculars you do I’m surprised you managed to keep up with everything at once”

“I dropped those too…I’ve dropped all my sports.” YN murmurs, “Figured it’s best to focus on school and my studies only”

All of the adults at the table had overheard what she had said and were in an uproar. It was well known how much YN loved her sports and competing, so to hear that she was suddenly quitting made no sense.

”Whaddya mean 'quitting'?!" Arthur asked, his voice carrying loudly.

”Well good exam results will take me to university, so I’ve decided to focus on that only” YN tried to explain.

”You’ve never had any problems with balancing it before, why now?” Polly asked.

YN’s eyes flicker up to her fathers face, no-one catching it other than her aunt Polly.

”Classes are getting harder”

That’s all YN had to say before she changed the conversation topic to something other than her.

⋅───⊱༺ ♰ ༻⊰───⋅

Polly made her way into Tommy’s late into the night that evening, knowing the man barely slept and would be up and in his office.

“Are you planning on talking to your daughter?” Polly asked as she settled in the seat opposite her nephew.

Tommy raised a curious eyebrow as he poured his aunt a glass of whiskey and passed it over to her, “About?”

“Quitting all of her sports…?”

”Yeah well you heard her, she wants to focus on school”

Polly huffs a disbelieving sigh, disappointed in Tommy,

”When was the last time you saw that girl struggling with her workload hmm? Not to mention the countless amount of times she’s helped out with Charlie on top of everything else she does”

Tommy paused at her words, realising that he hasn’t really paid YN any attention recently.

“When was the last time you even went to one of her shows, competitions or award shows hm?” Polly drilled him, “This girl of yours is amazing and you’re ignoring her Tommy”

“I’m not ignoring her!” Tommy became defensive, “She almost an adult, she can do what she wants”

”Don’t you see it?!” Polly’s patience wears thin as she snaps at her nephew, “You barely spent any time with her when she was a mere child and still now you don’t! You hardly know the girl while she’s stretching herself thin trying to prove herself and you don’t even pay her enough attention to realise!”

Tommy was left speechless at the rightful telling off he had received as after all, Polly was correct.

Tommy barely spent time with YN when she was younger and as the years went by he spent even less. Stilted conversations over dinner was their relationship and he had no one but himself to blame.

“I-I didn’t…” Tommy stumbled over his words as he tried to settle the thousands of thoughts that were racing through his mind, “I didn’t think to…”

Polly stood up and faced her nephew, “This is your last chance. After tonight, the door that she has kept open for many years will be closed and locked with the key thrown away. You have one chance Tommy, do not squander it.”

With that, Polly left Tommy’s office, hoping that her words spurred him into action.

Tommy didn’t wait long before he was speeding out of his office and darting upstairs to his daughters room hoping and praying that she was still awake and when he knocked on her door and she called him in, the slightest of weights was lifted off of his shoulders.

“It’s me,” He announced, poking his head past her door.

Surprise flashed over YN’s face as his appearance as she beckoned him in, sitting up straighter as she placed the book she was reading to the side.

“Is something wrong?”

“I wanted to speak about what happened at dinner” Tommy took a seat on the edge of YN’s bed, “About you dropping your extra classes”

“It’s nothing” YN tried to dismiss it. “Just thought I should focus on school more so I can get into a good university, that's all”

“YN, you’re the smartest person I know” For the first time in a long time, Tommy spoke to YN one to one, in hopes that this conversation will be the first step in repairing their relationship, “Not only that but you are the most talented and hardworking person I know.”

YN paused for a moment after he finished before she spoke up, “Yet you never attended an award ceremony or performance or competing…how am I meant to know how you feel? …I did all of this to get a sliver of your attention, always hoping that one, just one of the many things I laden myself with would finally be the thing that’ll make you pay attention to me and you can’t even be bothered to show when it matters”

“I know nothing I can say to fix what I have done but all I ask for is one more chance and most of all, don’t give up on the things you love, not for me, not for anyone. Ever.”

Tommy knew words would not mend the hurt he has caused his daughter over the years but he hoped that she would give him this one last chance to fix it through his actions and behaviour.

YN takes a deep breath and nods, “One last chance”

[visionsofmagic]

day 22: simon ghost riley [sex pollen]

࿓ synopsis • after the mission is done, waiting for trucks, you realize something is wrong with your body but ghost there to help.

―❦ nsfw, roughness, jealousy, fingering, clothes full on/off, dom!ghost, possessiveness, claiming, mentions of exhibitionism (I guess), licking, cum eating, pet names, nearly fainting, crush, f!reader, brat!reader, praising, poison/venom, flower & more in the work! • 3.9k • the longest one for the kinktober, but, who is surprised? I am on my knees for this man, so, hope you will enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed whilre writing! here’s our lieutenant, have fun & enjoy! [kinktober m.]

“copy,” ghost said, using the device on his chest as he talked with soap on the other side of the call, making a plan about waiting where you are for a while – inside a small room used as an office for information gathering, while the team secures the building entirely until the trucks come. “y/n and I will wait in here.”

hearing your name from his lips always gives you goosebumps – he has great effects on you, and you believe he knows every one of them because of how he acts around you, however, he’s a duty man, bringing no love or any affection into the field – sadly. you content yourself with the little yet effective affection he gives you though. he’s different around you – even though he will deny it right away.

as he nods to you, then, sitting down on a chair with no arms, he puts his weapon beside it – elbows on his knees, he kneels lower, taking his knife out of his pocket and cleaning it – acting as if he’s alone in the room but you can sense that he studies you.

to act calm down, you travel around the room as possible as you can, the rain washing over the window, giving a sense of coldness. holding the beautiful flower inside your hands, you smell it again because of the addicting scent it has, giving you a feeling of joy, even a highness you cannot acknowledge yet.

finally, putting it onto the table, you grab a book from the shelf, get in front of the table, and sit on it, making ghost stand right beside you as he still uses a cloth to clean his sharp knife.

blowing the dust from the surface of the book on your hands, no glove, the scent of the flower is still on there, you read the title that book has. you chuckle, making ghost look at your face for a moment under the mask, hands never stopping.

turning to him, you show the book, saying, “didn’t know there would be classics on the shelf of the bad guys.”

ghost nods, “it’s just for the display sergeant.”

“it seems so,” you say, shrugging and putting the book down beside you. then, you watch his skull-themed gloves working on the knife, signing because the images – dreams, in other words, come into your mind in which he uses his long and thick fingers to fuck your holes – how would it feel, you ask to yourself, and a deep voice answers it right away, ‘it would feel euphoric’.

when you come to yourself, you look at how his hands stopped, and his eyes directed on your face, studying you.

leaving a nervous chuckle, you hold your thighs tightly to stay still under his piercing gaze. “something wrong sir?”

he gets up slowly, taking your breaths away with each little step he takes. his knife goes into his pocket, and, his gloved hand finds your chin, rising your head up, standing a bit taller than you even though you sit on the damn table. “s-sir?” you try to ask, getting breathless at the proximity you have – it’s not the first one, nor the last, yet, it’s effective as if it is.

“your face –“ he says, furrowing, “it gets redder.”

“huh?” it takes time for you to understand what he’s saying. when it hits you, your eyes widen, thinking that the reason behind being red is him. chuckling, you wave your hand in the air as he leaves your chin, “’s nothing lt, gotta be overwhelming state of the mission we have finished.”

he doesn’t say anything. going back to the chair, his eyes never leave your body as you get up from the table, traveling around the room, and finally stopping in front of the shelf once again. your back is turned to him but you can feel his eyes on you which burns you alive.

palms getting sweaty, hair on the neck getting high, hands trembling, breathing rapidly, nose getting cold, and the whole body except it becomes warmer each passing time – making you weak entirely – it all happens in a moment, before even you know it, your body’s temperature changes from steady to warmer one – only a few places of it remain cold; your nose, the tips of your fingers, and sweats. only simon’s voice is audible as the rest of the world’s noise becomes blurry to hear – to understand. even the rain’s peaceful sound disappears.

it feels far more different than any disease or feeling you have ever felt – taking your logical side away slowly, one by one, it makes you breathe louder, taking the attention of simon to you when you turn to him, hands moving without your mind’s control, scratching your back, neck and even abdomen. “s-simon – “ you say, voice low, haskier than before, using his first name, not the title or nickname.

he stops talking with whomever he talks to through the device, looking at you as your hands find the surface of the table – to become steady, you hold its edge strongly, still looking at his worried eyes.

“is it me or – agh – is it me or the room is getting – uhm, hot?”

simon says he needs to go to soap, as you assume, then rushes to your side – hands find your face after he gets rid of his gloves – skin touching to the skin, you close your eyes and leave a whimper at the feeling of coldness his body has. “ohh – simon –“

“shit –“ he swears, letting your forehead hit his chest, holding you from the back now, he says, “damn, y/n, you’re burning as hell.”

he sounds calm, giving you the power to hold still, and having the strength to hug his arm, “simon – aggh – please, please, simon – help me.”

you have no idea how your mind works in the moment but you’re grateful.

picking you up, he sits you down on the table, holding you by the arms, he makes you look at him, “hey, look at me sergeant. listen here little one, I will go and get the medic team, got it?”

he doesn’t wait for you to answer, ready to leave you and get the others immediately because he cares about you so much that it drives him crazy to see you this weak, so red, breathing rapidly, and can’t focus anything but only him.

however, he can’t go, not when your eyes meet with his, hands finding his chest and holding him dearly – as if he’s the cure you need, and in the end, he will understand that it’s the deal – his your cure.

“don’t leave – simon, need you, only you.”

a certain time passes until he understands what's going on truly after he analyzes all the possibilities and the reason behind your state – the moment the sight of the flower on the table, behind you comes to the vision, he gets it at the exact same moment.

“hey, y/n, look at me kiddo. did you smell that flower?” his patient runs empty – turning your head to it, he asks the question again, and you finally answer by nodding.

he curses under his breath – even his breaths get rapid, how to help you without alerting others is a hard decision to make. he spends his little time thinking about it as he picks up the water bottle from your pack, giving it to you, waiting for you to drink it and get a bit of clearer mind.

“okay, okay,” you whisper to yourself, cleaning your face with the rest of the water, shaking your head, “I get it now – the whole lab, medics, scientists – it’s all because of it, right?”

he nods, calming down to see you good again, not entirely, but enough to understand it all.

“oh, how stupid I am!”

he stops you from going further and blaming yourself – he knows you like cute little things, can’t hold yourself from playing with them, being innocent, and not thinking about the consequences fully. this is why the enemies tried to make venomous yet cute-looking flowers to use against others, to get what they wanted without being caught.

“’s okay, just focus in here, tell me how you feel.”

with wet eyes, you say, “hot – it’s so hot – lt, can I take my clothes off?” you ask suddenly, the logic is long gone, only instincts remain high, and you act according to them. “gotta feel coldness.”

without waiting for an answer, you take your clothes off, not thinking about the outcomes, just doing what you think will be helpful.

staying only with the thin fabric of your upper shirt, covering your body tight, and leaving your abdomen in display, your muscles loosen up. to become colder, with the fact that the temperature lowers as the clothes leave your hot skin, you take your pants off, only leaving the little shorts hanging on your lower part – too occupied to get as naked as possible that you can’t see ghost going and locking the door with the key you used to enter in the first place.

finding himself before you once again, he reliefs when he sees the heat disappearing on you, however, the risk still is there to be fixed before anyone comes into the room, questioning why their lieutenant and sergeant stay silent.

he knows you got the flower with the poison of sex pollen segments – causing the user of it to get a high degree of warmness, especially in certain parts of the body, making the person who used it want to have intimate sessions with another one, and it all happens without their knowledge because they’re too gone to understand the situation they’re in – and that is exactly what happens with you, his delicate sergeant who he needs to take care of – to heal, to become the cure for that he will gladly agree on but first, he needs to tell you about it, retelling what soap told him before you said how warm the air was.

“hey, doll, focus on me, would ya?” he asks, spanking your cheeks lightly to make you focus on him. “you’re under the effects of a poisonous flower,” he shows it again, “the warmness, sweats, desires are caused because of it,” he tries to stay low, not giving his feelings away when he sees your almost naked body and how your eyes wink rapidly, looking at him from head to toe and mouth going dry as you do, “we need to get it out of your system.”

“I know,” you say, whispering.

“what?” he asks, sounding surprised.

you look guilty for a moment, avoid his gazes, you confess, “I read the description on the report but I didn’t know which flower was which – I thought this one was – pure, to use afterward – but it seems it’s already affected.” you sound sorry, yet, you don’t stop on your actions – picking the bottle and using the rest of the water to pour it on you. “I am so sorry, lt, I really am but I – aggh – I know what we should do –“ you look at him from the corner of your eyes, too afraid to look directly, “if you would like to help me – but if you don’t, I can go –“

“no,” he sounds as if he orders you around. he hides the jealousy rising within him as the idea of another man touching you, being the cure, hit his mind – he wants to be the only one who can have you – his good girl – well, not in the particular moment but maybe, you’re still his good girl – or else, you would suggest to go and see a doctor immediately, not waiting and asking him whether he can heal you or not and it’s even meaning that you’re giving yourself to him.

because of the effect of the venom in your system or not, he knows you damn well that you would not ask if you didn’t want it. “I will help,” he says, nodding to show how certain he is, hands slowly reaching your arms, skin to skin, the coldness flowing from his fingers to yours. eyes widen, you look so pretty, he thinks, “just tell me you want it not only because of the pollen but also because you desire it.”

it doesn’t take time for you to confess it, nodding, hands finding his chest, “I desire it,” you say, breathing louder, “I desire for you, sir.”

satisfied, he smirks, glad he has the mask on, yet, you know him, don’t you? even your gestures are proof of it – the hands gripping him by the neck, lowering him down, saying, “sir, your mask is on the way.”

“you’re a brat, aren’t ya?” he teases, not understanding how he is adapted to the sudden situation – he just gives up, giving you what you want – what you need – himself, and taking what he desires for a long time in return.

curling his mask up until it reaches half of his face, lips on sight, he nods, allowing you to move closer and kiss him, and you do it in high spirits, smiling, and connecting your warm lips with his cold ones with such passionate that he puts his palms on the table beside your thighs not to fall onto you.

warmness makes it euphoric – lip kissing lip, tongue joining the other’s mouth intensely, whimpering sounds coming out both of you in unison. hands hugging his neck tighter, you make him kneel down closer enough that he gets between your inner exposed thighs – the hard fabric of his pants touching your flesh, sending chills because of how clothed he is compared to you.

leaving for air, you feel his massive hands moving to your thighs, finding the sports’ edge from there, and pulling it down in one motion after you nod to him, moaning his name lowly, “s-simon –“

“oh,” he says, waiting for you to take your top off too, throwing it onto the floor, putting your palms on the table as you lean to behind, displaying your naked body fully to him with pride and lust – and a bit of shyness you can’t hide. “prettier than I have imagined.”

“you – you have imagined about m – mmmph!” your words are cut by his fingers entering your mouth, shutting you up as he waits for you to lick his two massive fingers. now thanks to seeing half of his face, you can witness the smirk he has, clearly enjoying how you lick his fingers with pleasure, eyes half-closed.

“wondering how you will manage when you have my dick inside you twice as big as my fingers on your mouth, doll,” he says, teasing yet having the voice of a man who tells no lie – only the truth – and just the idea makes your pussy clench around nothing as you suck his fingers, wishing they were his cock instead.

his lips find your ear, whispering, “tell me, do you think you can handle me, princess?”

not in the slightest you believe you can, but, you want to, so, you nod fast, making him chuckle – sounding so sinful and angelic at the same time that you feel warmer – hotter than any poison can give.

“atta girl,” he praises you, both for licking his fingers and nodding, “now take my fingers, need to prepare your beautiful pussy.”

waiting no more, he shoves his fingers into you in one go, making your forehead hit his chest, hands gripping his arms strongly that were he another man, he would break – but no, he’s fucking ghost, and he can receive any damage he can get from you without complaining.

you moan mindlessly, trying to swallow them – it’s too much, you think, too much to handle yet too delightful to push – so, you open your legs wider, they’re shaking already.

“simon – ohhh! yes, yes, yes!”

he chuckles again – how many times now, two? – more than he chuckles for an entire year but it’s you after all – his pretty girl who is so fucked up even with his fingers.

“unbelievable, sergeant,” he says, taking you by the chin, eye to eye, “it’s only my fingers, and you’re already cumming?”

“huh?”

he’s right – he’s so right that it hurts – seeing your cum on his finger, you feel shy, one step away from hiding your face on his chest – but you stop when you see him licking his fingers full of your juicy – a moan escapes from your parted lips.

“mmhh –“ he whimpers, “tasteful.”

it’s the only thing he says before giving you one last look full of danger – mixed with lust – something you see first, something you will beg to see again and again after this night as well.

putting down his mask, he turns your body and bends you down on the table – not too harshly, not too gently.

“simon!” you scream in shock – a shock that turns you on further – even though you cum a few minutes ago, you sense an upcoming climax after he grips you by the neck, pushing you onto the table, getting your ass up. hearing him unzipping his pants, your wet pussy clench around nothing, eyes closed, heart beating as if it will break your chest into two, set free – you know the venom eating your body alive still even after the cum – however, can’t deny decreasing power of it which leaves its place to one and only simon ghost riley who seems like he’s ready to devour you.

“didn’t though ya would get away that easily from disobeying my rules, and picking a possible venomous flower without sayin’ me about it?”

he sounds amused rather than angry – he’s doing it on purpose, to make you go crazy – to make your pussy go crazy for him.

“don’t say such things, lt,” you challenge him to be rougher, being a brat, using the effects of the poison on the advantage. “or else I will disobey you more often.”

“is that so, kiddo?” he mocks you – you can hear it through his husky and dangerous voice, alerting you about what will come – and you’re so right about it when you feel him slapping your ass – body jolts forward – weren’t he holding you by the neck, you would fall at the impact, “then for each one of ‘em, I will fuck you so well that it will dig into your bratty mind not to show disobedience to your superior.”

“wanna learn it, sir, wanna learn my lesson – please, simon – pleeease! need you – agghh –“ your words – or begs if you be honest with yourself, shutting down by his cock’s tip, entering your pussy slowly as he opens your folds wider to make it fit.

with a different desire except being fucked by him, you turn to behind as possible as you can, looking at his thick and long cock staying right in front of your hole’s entrance, “ohhhh –“ you moan with pure instincts when you see how massive it looks.

simon’s head tilts to the side, eyes burning your skin alive, “what is it, doll, bigger than you have imagined?” he refers to the fact that he’s not the only one who has deep desires – but also you – having naughty thoughts about your superior, your lt who you have by your side all the time.

“s-simon,” you sound more fearful than you want to, “will it – will it even fit?!”

he shakes his head in disbelief, kneeling further – his cock enters you deeper, making your back arch in both pain and pleasure – it’s already too much and it has another halfway to go!

“don’t worry princess,” he says – how come he can sound deeper with each passing time? “I will make it fit into your tight greedy pussy. after all, you are made of for my cock – for me, aren’t ya?”

he finds the answer to his question by going in deeper, causing both of you to moan and swear – he shoves his cock deep inside your walls, filling you up fully – the feeling is euphoric, boiling in sin, completing with the lust and passionate coming from the love you have for each other.

“ohhh – simon! it’s too – too much!”

hoping you will be able to adjust his length soon enough, you let him take his cock off out of your aching pussy and shove it inside again with a hard thrust, trying to make it fit – make it give you the pleasure you need as a cure at the highest scale.

“just – fuucck –“ you could never, “mghhm – just one more to fit!” could never thought you would make him swear, whimper, even moan out of all the people, yet, here you’re, in front of his massive body, bent over, displaying your body to him in nude, letting him use your body as he pleases – he does it to heal you, it’s the first thing you believe, but when you go deeper in your thoughts, you realize how not only you but also he is in the need of you – having you.

“there it is,” he says, taking you from your mind into reality, cock has started to fuck you faster, going in and out with perfect rhythm which continues to accelerate instead of staying at the same pace. “told ya you’re made for it, doll.”

starting to fuck you hard, deep and rough – exactly what he wants and you need, he uses your wetness to thrust into you easily, earning sweet voices from your dry and parted lips, looking at your exposed body shamelessly, as if he has all right to do – well, he does, you both know it – feeling pussy clenching, squirming around his length and soaking onto it – mind dizzy, hands gripping the table under them to stay in the earth – he’s the only reality you have who feels like a dream – eyes seeing starts because of how good he fucks you, you sense poison leaving your body, its place is filled with what ghost is giving; heaven and hell – mix.

“simon, simon, ohh, simon! s’ good – agggh – it’s s’ good!”

“shh,” he quite you down, kneeling on your level – cock hit the deepest part of your pussy, thrusting your g-spot without missing, “you don’t want the others to hear, do you?” he asks, entertained when you bite your hand to stay silent, “or you want it. would you like that? others watching your pathetic face as I fuck you good? no one, but me – mmh – fuuck! that’s right baby, no one – just me, simon ghost riley. shiiit – can’t even realize soaking so wet hearing my words,” his fingers joining his cock, picking the wetness you’re making with his fingers, then, shoving them into your mouth.

you moan his name as you suck your taste from his fingers, eyes rolling, going white when he grabs you by the hair, turning your face to watch your pretty face close while fucking you harder as if it’s possible – he claims you, you know it even with your dysfunctional brain, “scream my name louder.”

he orders, hands leaving your hair to position on your hips, holding you still, breaking you into pieces – you don’t know how louder you moan his name, too cock dumbed to care – don’t know how many times you cum onto him – don’t know the tears washing your face – brain isn’t working – or it works just to send pleasure into your twisting abdomen, and abused pussy.

the last thing you feel his hot semen filling you up, moaning your name as he does it, then, nearly collapsing onto you because of how good it was to fuck you.

“fuck, you have no idea how weak you’re making me, princess.” he confesses, picking your body, he guarantees, “don’t worry, I got it from here, sergeant. only rest.”

hearing his words lastly, you give up – the exhausted body is left to take care of him, your one and only simon ghost riley.

❦ tagging: @lilvampirina& @snowprincesa1 & @dookiemeshibear & @manuursw *hearts, hearts, hearts* 💌💌💌

[rhiannonsknife]

That one scene where Rhiannon visits Craig at work, but it’s Reader…💭💭

(Also, could I be 🪩?)

— summary: rhiannon visits you at work…

— warnings: nsfw content. mdni. face slapping. fem!reader. r is craig’s coworker.

the loud creak of the door catches you off guard, sharp and unexpected in the quiet hum of an otherwise severely uneventful afternoon. you glance up, expecting to see a courier or maybe someone from the team. instead, it’s her.

rhiannon lewis stands in the doorway, one hand holding the strap of her purse, her expression unreadable. for a moment, you’re too caught up in the surprise of her presence to speak. “you must be here to see craig,” you finally manage, tilting your head as you wipe your hands on the fabric of your jeans. it’s a guess. a safe one, given the circumstances. ever since tommy passed, he had stepped into the role of your unofficial boss, handling everything with a precision that bordered on self-importance. technically, the company wasn’t even his yet, but everyone had adjusted to treating him as if it already was.

and, besides, you have seen the two of them together.

you had been keeping an eye on the former boss’s daughter for much longer than you’d care to admit, watching her from afar at every single work event that she happened to attend, but never finding the right words to approach her beyond the occasional polite nod. unprofessional? most likely, and just another reason for you to never make a move on her. craig, however, did not seem to have your decency. watching rhiannon meant watching his prying eyes too, always a little too close for comfort at said company events.

that’s why he’s the first thing that comes to mind, now that she’s in front of you. your lunch break has just started and you feel severely underdressed: rhiannon is in a blouse, a neat pair of shoes, and a skirt whereas you’re in stained jeans and a thin tank top, your flannel stolen by one of your coworkers, who’d been teasingly dangling it in front of your face before rhiannon showed up. oh, the lovely perks of working in a still mostly male-dominated field and having to deal with their endless, stupidly boyish teasing.

“no, actually,” she says. “i was hoping i could speak to you”

your coworker lets out a low whistle beside you, earning himself a playful slap as you use the distraction to your advantage and snatch the flannel from his grip.

“shut up” you hiss, just as rhiannon interrupts, sharper: “now?”

ignoring the teasing comments your colleagues call after you, you get up and quickly stumble after her. she knows her way around the place, of course, and leads you back into what’s soon to be craig’s office. she holds the door for you before pulling it shut, locking it on her way in.

“sit” rhiannon orders, pointing towards the chair in the center of the room. taken aback by the sudden, stern demand, you can’t think of anything but to do as you’re told. you quickly move to sit, pulling your flannel on in the process.

“who said you could put that back on?”

your fingers freeze where they’re working on the buttons and you shoot her a glance of disbelief, not entirely sure if you got any of that right. a pleased look flashes over rhiannon’s features before she moves closer, hips swaying with every step it takes her to reach you. your throat visibly bobs at the sight and the fabric of your flannel slides from between your fingers.

“uhm-“ you try to tear your gaze away. “you said you wanted to- to talk?”

“craig and i broke up” she informs you nonchalantly, not looking much like she cared for him, to begin with.

“that’s-“ great to hear. “i’m sorry”

“no you’re not” rhiannon stops in her tracks and, as if the whole situation isn’t absurd enough already, reaches for the hem of her skirt.

“wow, uh-“ this time you do look away, just to keep yourself sane. from the corner of your eye, you still see her: pushing down her tights, then her panties too, before stroking her skirt back into place, leaving herself a little less exposed.

“you’re not sorry” she repeats again, firmer, then walks around your chair and into your view. once again somewhere where you can’t ignore her, she pouts mockingly. “or are you?”

“n-no” you stammer, eyes tracing over her features.

“right” rhiannon rasps, lifting her skirt enough so that she can slip into your lap, her legs spreading around either side of you. your breath hitches in your throat when you feel the heat that has pooled between her thighs and is now pressing against your crotch.

your gaze is fixated upon the place where she must be soaked until rhiannon grabs your chin and forces you to look up at her.

“i saw the way you look at me,” she tells you, leaving no room for questions. the hand she has been holding your chin with becomes gentler as it trails the side of your face. her eyes follow the path it’s taking, up your jaw and then into your hair by the side of your face.

even though you should know better, you scoff. there’s no way you’ll just outright admit it to her. “i wasn’t-“

you instantly fall silent when a sharp, sudden slap to your cheek cuts you off. “ow” you whine, only half complaining. not only do you feel the sting on your cheek, no, it also shoots right between your legs when she strikes you like this.

rhiannon slaps you again, harder, for good measure. your head is moved by the force of it but she instantly makes you look back up at her, not giving you any time to think.

“shut up” she demands. while taking in the shock (and arousal) that is written all over your features, rhiannon drapes an arm over your shoulder and pulls herself closer. the fact that you can see right through the thin fabric of her blouse is not helping your case; the outline of her breasts is clearly visible. she must've ditched her bra before coming here or maybe she never wore one to begin with. rhiannon uses the position of being sat on your lap to her advantage and draws herself in so that her bare center is dragging across your jeans. you can almost instantly feel the way her arousal soaks the fabric, leaving a stain on it.

with your body moving on instinct, you lift your hands, putting one on her hip and the other on her lower back. to your surprise, rhiannon lets you and doesn’t instantly bat them away like a part of you had expected. instead, she starts rocking against you slowly, grinding her cunt against your thigh.

“fucking hell” you mutter under your breath, taking in the way her body moves.

rhiannon won’t let you for long; as soon as you drop your gaze, her palm sneaks up your throat until your chin is between her thumb and index finger so she can push your head up all over again.

“look at me” she instructs. the breathless tone to her voice does not go unnoticed.

“wha- fuck-“ you’re cut off once more when she repositions on top of you, giving herself much easier access to the firm muscle of your thigh and pressing her chest to your face in the process of lifting her weight, then lowering it back onto you. who are you to complain?

once she’s found a good position, rhiannon picks up her pace, panting heavily as she begins to properly ride you. she’s still holding your face in her hands, moving it around mindlessly as she uses your body to get off.

eventually, she tilts you in a way that allows her to lean over you and eagerly press her mouth to yours. whenever you had dared to imagine yourself kissing her, it had been tender, and soft. the way rhiannon kisses now is nothing like that. she’s hardly using her lips at all, instead, she sinks her teeth into the flesh of your lower lip until you can taste blood on your tongue. noticing the metallic flavor in her own mouth, rhiannon pulls back. when she sees the drop of crimson bubbling from your lips, her eyes widen. she only moves her hips faster. at this point, she’s practically bouncing on your thigh and you can feel her stain she's leaving on your clothes underneath the denim.

you kind of wish she had approached you beforehand: there’s no way in hell you would have turned her down. instead, you would’ve been prepared: you could’ve put on the strap, so you had something proper for her to bounce on. for now, your thigh will have to do.

“god” you groan weakly, only able to hold your head up because she’s holding it for you. “you are so-“

“sh!” rhiannon hushes you harshly, pressing her hand over your mouth to shut you up. her thumb runs over the broken skin of your lower lip. it stings, but her reaction makes up for the discomfort: when she realizes that there’s still blood on your mouth, rhiannon lifts her palm back up, and stares down at the place where it has smeared across her hand. instead of the disgust a part of you had expected, rhiannon’s jaw drops and the first actual moan is drawn from her lips. it spurs her on, you realize, when she removes your hands from her waist and starts to go even faster, clearly chasing her height at this rate, a pending oragsm fast approaching. you don’t know where to look anymore, now that she’s moving erratically on top of you, so rhiannon -once again- makes the choice for you, and snaps: “look at me!”

the sight of her hips grinding and breasts bouncing under her blouse with every move is heavenly already, but nothing compares to her face when it’s contorted in pleasure like this: her jaw slack, her brows drawn together, her eyes heavy, yet still watching your every move, ensuring that you keep watching.

“look at me” she repeats, again and again, like a prayer that grows more frantic with every time it is spoken. like this, she keeps going, until it becomes too much for her body to take. until she can't keep up with the pace she has set herself without letting herself fall over the egde. you feel it before you see it: the way she grows tense, the way her legs tighten around you, and her thighs begin to tremble. the way rhiannon throbs, right before she’s cumming on top of you.

then, and only then, her head falls back. she breaks the eye contact and she cries out in pleasure. her fingers tighten around the nape of your neck and, as her orgasm crashes over her, she falls forward, her body spent and exhausted. her moans subside slowly, only after her cunt has stopped twitching where it is pressed against you do the low, raspy whines stop.

rhiannon holds you close like this for a long moment, recovering and catching her breath. you don’t dare to move, don’t even dare to touch her, afraid it’ll make her uncomfortable or pull back altogether. her cheek is smudged against the side of your head whilst she pants into your ear. she does pull back, eventually, and leaves you breathless and turned on beyond words in your seat.

she steps back to the pile of clothes, putting them on one by one: the white panties first, then her tights, before she’s readjusting her skirt. only when all that is done, does she turn back to look at you one last time:

“i’ll call you” she says, hand on the lock and ready to leave.

“wait!” you call out. “wait you don’t- i never gave you my number. you don’t have it”

“yes i do” rhiannon winks, then turns around and abandons you in the office.

[fallstaticexit]

Prev / Next / Beginning / Pillowfort

AN: Next update will post Monday the 23rd , same time and same place! Going to start working on updating my game etc. <3

Transcript under the cut

Siobhan: There you are! Our guest of honor tucked away in the corner. You’re not hiding, are you?

Nancy: I never really liked crowds.

Siobhan: That won’t do, Nancy. Come. Lets chat.

Siobhan: You know, the way you handled Becca the other night is admirable. I wouldn’t have done anything less if it were my man she was pawing after.

Nancy: Listen, I’m not a violent person. I shouldn’t have hit her.

Siobhan: It hardly matters. It’s about respect.

Siobhan: You have the means to be the most powerful woman in the world. Your family runs a multi million dollar company. Your name is on every recognizable building across the globe. Girls like Becca will dream of the day they can write you a check so she can raise her brood of rowdy children in one of your flawlessly designed properties.

Siobhan: You’re a star, Nancy. It’s time you show everyone what it means to be a Landgraab. You can start by becoming a Theta.

Siobhan: By the way, your mother just arrived!

Nancy: Hello Mother.

Queenie: Nancy.

Nancy: Father couldn’t make it?

Queenie: No, I’m afraid he’s tied up in a prior engagement. Besides, I try not to bore him with my personal affairs. [murmurs] How provocative, these pieces.

Queenie: So you’ve made friends with the daughter of an adulterer. Is that what you thought would impress me? Well, at least she’s proactive. Your lack of involvement in any clubs or organizations shows just how lazy you are. It’s almost as if we’ve sent you to university to piss away our money yet again. When will you prove to me that you’re worth half the trouble you put your father and me through? And for the love of God, stop biting your nails! It’s disgusting.

Professor Munch: -right, Nancy?

Nancy: I’m sorry, what was that?

Professor Munch: This model is absolutely stunning! Marvelous, even.

Nancy: R-really? Thank you, Professor.

Professor Munch: Ah! No wonder! Your drawings are very compelling. The way you blend functionality with aesthetics is brillant! A true prodigy!

Professor Munch: I am very proud of you, Nancy. Keep it up.

Nancy: Hi Professor. I know I’m a little early for office hours, but I really wanted your thoughts on my blueprints.

Professor Munch: Nancy! Are you kidding! Anything for my star pupil. Take a seat.

Professor Munch: If I’m being honest, I don’t have much critique.

Nancy: Staying on top of my grades is really important to me. My GPA is 3.7 but I know I can do more to improve. I can do better-

Professor Munch: [huffs affectionately] Nancy! You are my brightest and best student! I’d say it’s in your blood. I haven’t seen such vision and passion in my student’s work since I taught your brother.

Nancy: Nathan was your student?

Professor Munch: Oh, Nathan was my star! In the short time I spent with him, he has shown me what true artistry looks like. That kid had an eye for detail. He always spoke so fondly of his little baby sister, Nan; he’d call you. [sighs] I miss him dearly.

Professor Munch: I thought of quitting and getting back into the field after he passed. I was devastated when I found out about the accident. My partner pushed me to continue teaching. She knew there was nothing I loved more than handing the tools to brillant kids like you and Nathan to shape our future.

Nancy: Partner? [frowns] Your...partner?

Professor Munch: Monica. We were roommates in college and have been stuck to each other like glue since!

Nancy: So, she’s your best friend?

Professor Munch: Oh certainly. My best friend, my muse, my partner.

Nancy: What about your husband?

Professor Munch: Husband?

Nancy: I- sorry. Nevermind.

Professor Munch: Talk to me, dear. What’s on your mind?

Nancy: I guess I don’t understand. You’re wearing a ring but you have no photos of your husband. You seem...close with her, in the photo.

Professor Munch: I was married once. We have three children together. Sweetest man alive. We’re still friends to this day. We both realized that we had our hearts in different places. In the end, I had my Monica. My soulmate.

Nancy: [sobs quietly]

Professor Munch: Oh, no. Nancy? Dear, are you alright?

Professor Munch: [softly] Oh, sweet darling. You’re hurting, aren’t you? Can I hold you? Is that ok?

Nancy: [nods once]

Professor Munch: You let it all out, you hear me? Just let it all out. I got you.

Nancy Narrates: [I wondered what kind of person I’d be had my mother held me like this]

Professor Munch: There’s a small club that I support that meets every Friday in the commons. I think you should stop by.

Nancy: Thank you Professor but, I think I’ve already decided to join a sorority.

Professor Munch: I’ll tell you what, it’s not something you have to join or commit to, but I think there’s something to gain by coming. Plus, there’s someone I’d like you to meet. You two have a lot in common.

Morgan: Holy shit, hey! It’s Nancy Landgraab! Get over here!

[jesswritesthat]

Aizawa Shōta: Takoyaki

Fandom: BNHA // MHA — [ Masterlist ]

Summary: ~0.5k, fluff

Warnings: None

>>>>——————————>

Gladly you took a seat at the nearby seating area, watching as the authorities secured the area and criminals you'd recently incarcerated alongside Eraser Head.

"Are you being serious?" It was spoken in that usual deadpan tone, a hint of disapproval lacing it oh so well, Eraser crossing his arms boredly when coming to stand next to you.

Regardless you looked up at him innocently wearing that smile he knew all too well, the one that told him no matter what he claimed, he’d lose this discussion.

"You’re aware we just arrested the stall owners for smuggling."

This made you hum in acknowledgment, twirling your chopsticks between your fingers after eating one of the culinary delights.

"I am, but their Takoyaki is too good to pass up." Your casual response left the hero giving an exasperated sigh and a tilt of his head when emphasising his point like it’d change your mind at all.

"Criminals (Y/n)."

"And talented cooks Shōta." Again you justified with an upbeat tone that left him sighing at you incredulously, it didn’t deter you from your elaboration though. "They did vegetarian, ponzu, spicy..."

"Enough, I get it."

Victory. Aizawa had conceded once more, burying his face in his signature scarf and sparing a glance to law enforcement slamming the van doors closed. You however came prepared, whipping out a spare pair of chopsticks and gently tapping the ravenettes’ elbow with them.

"Want some?"

Again you received a suspicious side eye, scanning your frame and then narrowing his eyes at the cuisine.

"Fine." Reluctantly he sat beside you and accepted the sticks with a small quirk of his lips that you counted as a smile.

It was only natural that you shared the portion between you both, after trying the first takoyaki Aizawa breathed a thoughtful sigh.

“It’s not bad.”

“I mean it is bad, with the criminal activity as seasoning and all. Thanks for the assist by the way, I miss working with you on the field.”

Aizawa only ate another takoyaki to avoid commenting on your humour, but pushed the final one over to your side with his chopsticks before replying to you in a lower tone.

“It’s still my job, and working beside you is… pleasant.” Before you had the opportunity to sarcastically respond to his apathetic ‘sentiment’, you were interrupted by the officers calling over to you.

“(H/n)! Are you able accompany us for back up and to file your report on the case?”

Eraser Head pulled up his binding cloth once more and readjusted his glasses, offering you his hand and then taking the rubbish to dispose of.

“You go, I’ll see you at home (Y/n).”

“Of course, I’ll bring back more takoyaki~” Came your cheerful farewell, waving back to Shōta who only shoved a hand in his pocket after dismissive swish.

“How do you intend to do that when your chefs are currently incarcerated?” This time there was a detection of wit in his voice, a characteristic that would’ve been unnoticeable to those who didn’t know him well.

“I’m full of surprises, that’s one of the reasons why you love me right?”

“There are far more reasons above that one, I assure you.” Shōta rolled his eyes, directing his gaze to the illuminated street in order to hide his vulnerability. “Guess I’ll see if I can find something to accompany your takoyaki.”

Aizawa may not be the most expressive in terms of emotion, but had his own personal ways of showing he loved you - even if it was coming to see you on your patrol.

<——————————<<<<

[despacito-uwu16]

The Rising Action

Kenji Sato x Journalist! Reader

Enemies To Lovers | Foced Proximity | Pining

<- prev next ->

“Hit me like a poisonous dart. You were trouble right from the start. Should’ve ran I guess that’s my fault”. - I do by G-IDLE

⁺˚•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚⁺‧͙⁺˚•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚⁺‧͙⁺˚•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚⁺‧͙⁺˚•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚⁺‧͙⁺˚•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚⁺‧͙⁺˚•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚⁺‧͙⁺˚•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚⁺‧͙⁺

“Ken Sato has received a 3rd strike. One wonders, how hard is it to hit a small ball, I bet a one-eyed zombie could hit a ball better than he can”. You say into your recorder.

“Wow, you are harsh”. Ami says as you end your recording.

“It’s called being honest. I report what I see”. You reminded her. “I mean have you seen the way he played today”?

“Yes Y/N, we’ve been watching the same game. But it got me thinking. When I interviewed Ken, he refused to talk about his family. He refuses to show vulnerability. It’s like he’s wearing some sort of mask. Something is going on with him, and when I know something, I don’t let go”. Said Ami.

“Wow, you are very determined”.

“At least get to know him before you start roasting him”. Ami suggested.

“Note taken”. You lied.

After graduating college, you were hired as an intern at the Los Angeles Magazine. You would stay at the office after midnight to revise and edit articles for other reporters. Eventually, your boss gave you your first assignment. Coincidentally, at a baseball game. You took in every detail of every player, noting all of the small mistakes and flaws of the games. Everyone looked like they didn’t know how to play, much to your disappointment. But it made juicy material for you.

That night, you were writing like you were running out of time. The article you wrote was on some of the players and their failures. The morning after, you got called in to the editor’s office. At first you thought you were about to get fired, but your surprise, he complimented on your writing style, asking you to cover another baseball game. Eventually, you got promoted to journalist within 6 months of working there, naming you the youngest journalist in the field. A year and a half later, you were offered a job at the International Review Journal. They pay twice as much as the last salary and you get to travel for your job. It didn’t take too long for you to accept it, and the next thing you knew, you were on your way to make your mark in the world.

Everywhere you went, your words impacted people and the way they perceive their favorite athletes. All of the readers love you, while the athletes feared and hated you. You didn’t care for the love and hate. What matters is you were unstoppable.

Now here you are in Tokyo, Japan watching the Ken Sato struggle. You felt bad that the Giants were on a loosing streak, but you didn’t feel bad for Ken. It was his ego that brought him here after all. You leaned back in your chair with your recorder in your hand, while watching Ken having a temper tantrum in front of his coach.

~

As you walked out of the stadium, you were fishing out your car keys when you realized something was missing in your bag.

“Where’s my recorder”?

Panic starts to settle in as you looked through your tote bag.

“Looking for this”?

You turn around to see Ken Sato, waving your recording device in front of you.

“Well, if it isn’t the walking loosing streak. I would say great game, but let’s face it, i’ve seen better”. You sneered.

“Y/N L/N, the pain in my ass, Let me guess, obsessing with me as usual”? He asks

“I’m not obsessed with you, and even if I were, I would rather launch myself out of Tokyo on a ten foot pole than fan girl over a baseball fuck up”. You rolled your eyes.

“You have really creative comments Y/N. I think my favorite one has to be when you called me the hare who couldn’t beat the tortoise. But slower and more stupider”. He laughs.

“I also noticed that I’m the only person mentioned in your commentary. Am I just a cover for the fact that you know nothing about baseball”?

“Of course I know everything about baseball. I just like taking notes on the most notable failures in baseball history”. You scoffed

He lets out a laugh that still annoys you to this day. “It’s nice to know I have a fan”.

“Once again, the only person obsessed with you is you”. You retorted.

“Says the person who followed me all the way here from California”. He tossed your recorder to you. “I’ve read some of your stuff online. Judging by your writing style, you should consider a career in fanfiction writing instead of sports journalism”.

“Fuck off Ken”. You said.

While he turned around to walk away, you gave him the middle finger, and he stuck up his in return.

You rolled your eyes as you got into your car.

“What an asshole. And for the record, I was here first”. You aggressively push your car key into the ignition.

You were back in your apartment, editing your article on your gray velvet couch. You took a sip of your pineapple smoothie as you reread the last paragraph you’ve just written.

“Ken Sato, “the best living player”, is now the best living curse. From being on cloud 9 to falling into the pits of underworld, he might as well drag the giants along with him. Tread carefully Sato, consider yourself a dead man walking. If looks could kill, we wouldn’t be Coach Shimura”.

Is this considered slander? Possibly. But to you, it’s called journalism. And the best part of the job is the chaos it causes post-publish.

After rereading and editing, you hit publish. You sat back and watched as the likes and views came in.

Later that night, you were celebrating the success of your latest article, alone. You downed the last of your dirty shirley, feeling content with yourself and the hard work you’ve put in. You were about to ask for the bill, when the bartender placed a martini in front of you.

“I didn’t order this”. You look up at the bartender confused.

“It came from the gentleman in the black blazer”. He points to the man sitting at the end of the bar.

You look over with curiosity to see the man sitting at the end of the bar. Only to be disappointed when you realized the guy was Ken. He got up and walks up to you.

You glare at Ken as he approached you. “What do you want”?

“Can’t a man treat a cute girl to a drink”? He takes a seat next you.

You’ve been down this road before. After you publish an article, the athletes either bombards you with threatening emails or bribe you with money or expensive gifts. Either way, it didn’t faze you.

“If this is about the article, I’m not taking it down or tweaking it to your liking”.

“I usually don’t give a shit about what you personally think of me. However, my career is on the line because of you”. He said, his onyx eyes giving you the death stare.

“Awww, it’s not my fault the world thinks you suck. Go cry about it”. You roll your eyes.

“I’m not begging for you to delete the article. Instead, I’m offering you an opportunity”. Kenji proposes.

You turn your body towards him. “Go on”.

“You come live with me for the next two months, get the Kenji exclusive. You get to ask any question, and you get to follow me around. It’ll make great coverage for the sports magazine”. He leans back in his chair.

“Okay and why would I want to live with you”? You scoff.

Kenji smirks. “You can decline the once in a lifetime opportunity to do this interview, or I can tell everyone about our little escapade during college”.

You glared at him. “Excuse me”?

“Imagine if people found out that Ken Sato, a baseball legend and Y/N L/N, his biggest hater had a one night stand during our junior year. That would seriously affect your following and your career, wouldn’t it”? Kenji condescends, leaving you completely disgusted.

“You’re not the only one who can play dirty Y/N”. He smirks.

Of all the annoying things Kenji does, one thing you did not expect from him is to straight out blackmail you. Another is the fact that he’s right. If people found out you slept with an athlete, you can kiss your promotion goodbye. For once, you were backed into a corner, and there was nothing you could do or say to save yourself. Swallowing your pride, you decided to take the defeat.

“Fine. I’ll come shadow you”. You surrendered reluctantly.

Kenji smiles from ear to ear.

“But if you pull some shady shit on me, I’m ending it”. You threatened.

“Won’t be a problem”. Kenji pulls out a pen and writes something down on a napkin.

“Here’s the address to my house. Arrive at my place on Sunday at 9 am sharp”. He hands you the napkin and hands some cash to the bar tender.

“I look forward to this interview Y/N”. He winks at you as he leaves the bar. You sunk in your seat appalled.

“What the fuck did I just agree to”?

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[birdbaddie]

Spar: Gone Wrong

Oooooo we starting to get fancy up in here.  More slop that I have cooked for you to enjoy! Thanks for reading and toodles! ;)

--SUMMARY-- Where you try out your new move and it gives Satoru a heart attack.

Satoru Gojo x Teacher! f.Reader

“Yuji! Stop being a nosey idiot!” Nobara hits Yuji over the head with her phone as both of them walk up to Megumi and the year 2’s. 

“It’s not being nosey when you’re practically showing off your texts to the entire world!” he rubs his head as they bicker.

Megumi sighs in defeat as he hears his friends get closer. They’re only down the hall but he already feels a headache coming on. 

‘At least it’s not that idiot.’ That he’s grateful for but it’s still lunch so anything could happen, especially in this school.

Thinking about that idiot, he wonders where you are. Because where you are, Gojo is usually only 2 feet behind. He remembers you mentioning you have PPA time to plan lessons for next week but he couldn’t remember which day you said you had it. It was usually the same scheduled time every week, but after a certain blindfolded menace complained and whined to principal Yaga for 4 days straight about it being on the same days as his off days- her schedule was magically changed. 

He recalls how confused you were when Gojo gave you the ‘great news’ but you accepted it fairly quickly because that was just who you were. Even though that was a certain charm that Megumi loved about you, Being that aloof and naive in the field they were in was nothing short of dangerous. The only reason the higher-ups haven’t done anything about it was because of the power you held. That and you were Gojo Satoru’s spouse.

“That would be interesting, What do you think Megumi?”

At the sound of his name, he was snapped out of his thoughts. 

“Huh?”

He sees Nobara scowl at him not listening and points an accusatory finger at him. “You’ve been around those two longest so surely you’ve seen them spar before?”

At her words, he can only guess they were talking about you and Gojo. 

“What about it?” He’s only ever seen you guys spar twice, Gojo winning one and you winning the other. Both times Megumi didn’t know how it was going to end due to your techniques basically being opposite of each other. Where Gojo had some of the strongest offense techniques known in jujutsu history, You had the reverse. Big strong wings that could get you anywhere as fast as Satoru’s warping technique and a mutated version of cursed energy the higher-ups like to call ‘blessed energy’. It lets you create shields out of this energy that repels any cursed technique, even Gojo’s purple hollow.

He could never get a scratch on you (not that he’d want to anyway) And you could never do the same because of your lack of offensive techniques. In that way, Megumi could say you were made for each other. 

Maki crosses her arms as she sports that usual bored look.

“We were gonna ask that idiot if he could take us for lunch but Inumaki said there were bentos for us in the fridge anyway,” so it was PPA day, you usually got up early to make them for everyone as you couldn’t help yourself if you have the time. Megumi gets one every day anyway but if he let everyone else know then he’d have them all on his ass and that’s just another headache he’d rather avoid.

“So if we’re stuck here, Panda came up with the idea of asking those two to show us how they’d spar” Maki genuinely looked interested in the concept. You had helped her how to handle different weapons in her first year so he couldn’t blame her for being curious how her sensei would handle herself in a ‘real’ fight.

Even though Gojo made it clear that most lunchtimes, it was his time to chill with you and just you- Megumi knew the idea of another spar with (Y/N) was filling his need to be near you and tempting his ego at the same time.

“Fine, but I’ll just say this to give you guys a warning,” Megumi started to walk towards your office where he knew both of you would be, not caring if any of them caught up or not.

He shoves his hands in his pocket as he thinks back to those two spars he’s witnessed before- rare excitement building inside him.

“Neither of them hold back”

➵➵➵➵➵➵➵➵➵➵➵➵➵➵➵➵➵➵➵➵➵➵➵➵➵➵➵➵➵➵➵

“Toru, slow down! You’ll choke if you keep eating that fast!” Satoru loved it when you doted on him, it felt domestic to him and it was a nice change from killing curses all of the time. It was also one of the reasons he fell in love with you in the first place so he guesses he’s never grown bored of it.

He smirks as he leans his head over the shoulder of the small sofa, knowing it was annoying you by how nonchalant he was about it.

“Well sweets, if you didn't make this so nice every time then maybe I wouldn’t eat it as quickly” The smug smirk on his face only irks you more as he wasn’t taking it as seriously as you.

Putting down your pen and pushing your swivel chair behind you to stand up, you simultaneously picked up your own bento and worked your way to the sofa Satoru was currently taking all the space on.

“If I feed you myself, you’ll slow down right?” You made it sound more of a request than a question and that was what gave Satoru the victory. It was always easy to pull you in the direction he wanted and he liked to abuse that power every time. This situation itself has just become such a common occurrence now, that the back and forth has reduced to the absolute minimum.

He takes his legs off of the other side of the sofa and sits up properly, still sporting that shit-eating grin as he makes room for you to settle in properly next to him. Most times he does feel some sort of guilt for doing what he does but in most cases, it was only for your best interest. For example- now, you have been at that desk on that computer for at least 3 hours straight. He was sure if you didn’t get out of that chair for another hour you would lose circulation in your legs. And with you basically being on top of him it was a win-win situation.

“ I definitely wouldn’t refuse something like that,” he gave you his bento as he quickly snatched your own from your other hand. “ But only if I get to do the same for you”

Seeing the soft look on his face even with the blindfold gave you tingles up your arms. 

‘This man could say anything and I'd still be whipped’ 

Mirroring his look, you gently fixed his blindfold where it had begun to slip on his undercut. Him leaning into your hand as you caressed the back of his head, playing with the little hairs.

“Don’t think I don’t know what you’re doing” You sighed blissfully as you moved your hand to the side of his face instead. He overlapped your hand with his own, playing with the engagement ring on your finger. 

“Well if you know what I’m doing then why haven’t you stopped me?” He challenged your statement so swiftly but it was just as easy for you to come up with your own reply. 

“I never said I didn’t enjoy it” You recognised his little efforts for you to relax and it was just natural at this point for you to give in without much fight. 

He fought high-grade curses nearly every day and you were called nearly every meeting as a bodyguard for the higher-ups. You would be a fool to pass up any chance to be this close to your fiancè. Not being as strong as most of the other jujutsu sorcerers offensively, you were barely only graded as a semi-grade 2 so you were not called on as many missions as most others. Instead, you were used as the unbreakable shield to protect the higher-ups and lead escorts for related important people to them.

Satoru would always be worried about you when on any mission and vice versa, but it was never a question of if you came home, it was a matter of when. Both of you know better than to doubt the other's ability but it would be impossible to stop that worry from appearing.

“Love you” his usual smirk comes back as your hand moves to your chopsticks.

“Love you too idiot” The endearing look on your face makes it obvious you didn’t mean that nickname and as this was precious time, Satoru decided to ignore it just this once in favor of starting to feed you. That doesn’t mean he wouldn’t get back at you later for it.

5 minutes go by with you both still feeding each other with little conversation in between before a knock sounds at the tatami doors. You look at Satoru, letting him decide what he wanted to do and by the look on his face, it didn't look like he was all too happy from the disturbance. 

But before he could tell the person on the other side of the door to kiss his ass, they heard Megumi’s voice come through.

“Oi Idiot! You in there?”

Widening your eyes, you gave Satoru a certain look as your wings twitched behind you. Looking back at you he only groaned inwardly as he stood up.

‘She has a softer spot for him than me’ he whined to himself as he set your bento on your desk and worked his way to the door. 

“This best be important” he whispered as he threw open the door with an indifferent look.

Behind the door, he could see all of the first years and the 2nd years grouped up and whispering amongst themselves.

Growing confused by the sight of everyone there he wanted to get straight to the point so he could go back to spending time with you.

“What did you guys need?” No quip or annoying comment showed all of them that Satoru Gojo wasn’t that happy he was just interrupted from his free time with you. Hopefully, the incentive of this idea would be enough to convince him.

“We were wondering if we could watch you and (L/n)-sensei spar” 

Satoru’s eyes widened as he was briefly surprised. He thought they were just gonna ask for money to go to that new fair in the nearby town or ask him a stupid question about Panda’s fur or something. Before he could answer, you piped up from right beside him. Caught off guard from the question he didn’t notice how quickly you came up to the door.

“Well I have been working on a new move, it would be nice to try it out properly- but why the sudden interest?” You had been working on this new skill for a while now and because of how busy you and Satoru have been lately, it was quite difficult to know how effective it was.

“Wait really? How come I didn’t know about this?” He turns to you and wraps both of his arms around your left, feigning a sad and disappointed face.”I thought you loved me?”

Megumi scoffs at Gojo’s over-the-top display.

“Idiot” He mutters.

“I didn’t mean to not tell you! It’s just slipped my mind since I’ve only worked on it a bit each week” You genuinely looked guilty and Megumi didn’t know whether to sigh or laugh.

Megumi instead cleared his throat, if he didn’t stop you two- this would go on for the rest of lunch and they would have no time to spar. The number of times he missed his solo book club because of the same reasons- He only had a designated time for those classrooms dammit!

This time Satoru looked at you, letting you decide what you wanted to do as either way he would still be by you anyway. 

Thinking about it some more you started to grin as you crossed your arms.

“What’s the score right now? Seventy to seventy-one?” Understanding your words, Satoru copied your grin as he looked down at you.

“Think you can even it up sweets?” Already thinking of ways to win, he brushed his hair back with one hand in his pocket.

“I think you shouldn’t underestimate me” You let your wings brush against him as you walked past and down the hallway towards the training grounds. Your feathers leaving a tingling sensation against his cheek.

Satoru bit his lip and willed his excitement to go down as he was still on school grounds, All students following closely behind you now as well as he was left to catch up. 

Still lingering by the door, he stared down the direction you went as you turned the corner and secretly gave him a challenging smile.

‘Game on Princess’

➵➵➵➵➵➵➵➵➵➵➵➵➵➵➵➵➵➵➵➵➵➵➵➵➵➵➵➵➵➵➵

After calming himself down and thinking of a battle strategy, he worked his way outside where he saw the students had created two designated areas on the steps. One had your name and the other had his messily written on big white cardboard sheets. How they managed to do it so quickly he didn't know. 

“YOU GOT THIS SENSEI!” turning to Yuji’s voice, Satoru sent him a cocky smirk until he realised what the areas were for- face immediately dropping.

They were areas for them to guess who would win. 

And only Yuji was sat by his name. 

Turning to the rest of the students he put one hand on his hip and one on his heart.

“Do none of you think I can win???” Despite his act of trying to get them to pity him, they were only annoyed more.

Nobara being the one to speak up.

“If you don’t get your ass down there now, I'll be the one beating you up”

“Tuna, Tuna” 

Gasping dramatically, he held his head up as he went the rest of the way to his spot on the training grounds.

“Even my own students don’t believe in me” pretending to wipe a tear from his blindfold.

As both of them were finishing up their stretches, Nobara turned to Megumi with a prevalent question that had been lingering in her head for a while.

“Is it just me or does this seem insanely unfair?”

Locking eyes with Nobara, he paused eating his bento- putting the half-eaten ginger-chicken slice back on top of the rice. 

“What do you mean?”

“Well Gojo-sensei has infinity and limitless, I’ve only seen (L/n)-sensei create shields” Before Megumi could say anything, Yuji piped up from across from them. His cheeks full of the bento you made for him.

“That’s a point! Can’t Gojo-sensei teleport as well? (L/n)-sensei doesn’t even have the speed edge on him” 

Megumi grumbled as those two went off on a tangent. To be fair he had been thinking the same the first time he was about to watch his guardians spar. It was clear to everyone how he favored you over Gojo and as he caught your eye mid-hamstring stretch- giving him a small wave, it took him back to that first one. He was barely 7 years old, yet he already knew to trust you more than Gojo. He watched you guys from his bedroom window, silently cheering you on. From then to now, your techniques and the way you fight have come a long way but back then you couldn’t form your shields for more than 5 seconds at a time before they dissolved. But where you were training him for months before that fight, he saw you steadily improve your skills. Not just relying on your technique.

 So when he saw Gojo win he remembers the disappointment he felt for you as Gojo helped you up. The memory was a bit foggy now but he’d never forget the way you ruffled his hair as you gave him his miso and rice the next morning, calling him-

‘My little believer’

“She has more of an edge than you think morons”

“HUUHH, WHO ARE YOU CALLING A-” but before Nobara could wack him over the head, a loud bang was heard and you and Gojo were on each other in less than a second. You threw your left leg at his ribs, covering it with a shield. It easily went through his infinity- as if it wasn’t even there. But before it managed to touch him, he teleported behind you ready to twist your arm. 

Using your wings, you unfurled them and let them spread out as much as possible, not only blocking his attack but you flew back as hard as possible, knocking Gojo as he stumbled backward.

Quickly shooting up into the air, only about 15 feet, you did a half backflip-curling your wings in as you shot down to your target.

Warping again, Gojo landed a few meters behind where you would land, readying a lapse red. He didn’t want to take any chances in this fight because he had no idea what the ace up your sleeve was, but he couldn’t lie that he wasn’t at least a little bit intrigued.

“He’s doing a lapse red already?!?!” Panda stood in shock not knowing how it escalated so quickly.

“Sit down dumbass you’re blocking my view” Maki nearly tugged panda down herself before he crashed back down on the step.

You turned and to the students, it didn’t look like you turned quick enough. The lapse red shredded through the training grounds until it just stopped. Every student except one stood on their feet with wide eyes.

The dust cleared and the students couldn’t see you, Thinking Gojo just disintegrated you they all started yelling at him.

But Gojo only smiled as he leaned a bit to the side, you flying right where he just was, missing his neck by just a few centimeters. At the sight of you, the students all sat back down.

“Nice try princess, but your energy gives you away every time”

Narrowing your eyes, you carried on with your strategy. All you had to do was make sure he couldn’t get too close to you. You can get away with a lot of things with your techniques but if you let him engage in hand-to-hand combat with you, you’d lose instantly. You weren’t physically as strong as him at all and he had more experience in that field. It was how you lost over half of the duels you two had.

You knew your energy was more visible than others, probably twice as potent as Satoru’s. Because of the nature of it, you understood you would be less than helpful on missions involving curses graded 1 and higher. They would find you before you would find them.

Good thing this new move you’ve been working on centers around it.

The back and forth went on for about 10 more minutes until Gojo decided enough was enough.

Seeing the familiar hugh of his hollow purple, you felt relieved as you were starting to tire yourself out. Gojo could sense that too and he was feeling a bit nice today.

Flying alongside the forest, you let the final parts of your plan fall into place. Covering yourself with your shield. At this point, you’ve shown the capability of your shields- hopefully letting Satoru put his guard down. 

And as the hollow purple shot across and towards you, you feigned shock, letting your wings falter for a second. And as the technique touched your shield, you let it absorb the power. Only letting it shatter at the last moment of force. Letting it blow you backward and into the forest.

“Blessed technique; veiled armor”

With a victory smirk, Satoru pirouetted and bowed toward the students as if he were on a stage and just performed a simple magic trick.

Straightening up quickly he pointed enthusiastically towards Yuji.

“Yuji! I dub you my favorite student!”

After no reply, he dropped his arm as he looked at his students' unreadable faces. Waving his arms up and down.

“At least give me some praise for being a super awesome and strong teacher!”

Another few beats went by and no one did anything, not even move. 

Hands now laying limply by his sides, he was about to reassure his students until a flash of black ran by him.

Turning, he could see Megumi’s strands of hair disappear into the forest followed by his divine dogs.

Confused, he stared at where Megumi ran in trying to figure out why he would do it. Before, he’d never worry over either of you this much after a spar. He knew how strong you both were and he knew Satoru wouldn’t hollow purple you if he knew you couldn’t handle it.

Taking a step towards the forest, about to follow Megumi, he staggered.

His breathing grew uneven as his thoughts stopped altogether.

‘Wait…..why can’t I..’

Tugging his blindfold quickly to bunch around his neck, he let his six-eyes search the forest. 

That usual constant hugging feeling was gone. That feeling of comfort gone. That warm-soft feeling that always calms his thoughts- gone.

He only ever feels this when he has to go on missions, when you have to go on missions, and when he is ever away from you. You would still be in the same city, and he could still feel that good feeling. Like a blanket on his soul.

Your energy was a constant since he met you, but right now.

He couldn’t feel anything.

➵➵➵➵➵➵➵➵➵➵➵➵➵➵➵➵➵➵➵➵➵➵➵➵➵➵➵➵➵➵➵

Instantly warping to Megumi’s trail of curse energy residue, taking note of Megumi’s tight expression he could tell he was silently seething at him. But right now their main priority was finding you so any conversations could be had later. So Satoru clenched his teeth and became serious- something Megumi didn’t see often.

Thoughts were running through both of their heads like wild but they both tried hard not to let them waver from their goal. Guilt was prevalent in both minds, not that that was surprising. 

Following the path created by Satoru’s hollow purple, they both noticed how it started to become narrower and narrower. Three emotions became prevalent, Churning your bento that suddenly became so heavy in Satoru’s gut- Anxiety, hope but the strongest was dread. Those three emotions feeling so familiar to him. He didn’t know what he’d find at the end of the wreckage, and he dreads at the thought of what he might've done. 

“You best hope she’s ok”

Keeping his focus in front of him, he barely regarded Megumi’s sharp words. 

“Or I’ll kill you before you can say sorry” 

Gojo always knew Megumi had more of a soft spot for you. That was evident the day he brought him and Tsumiki to meet you for the first time. He’d tease those two non-stop and you’d always be there to defend them. But in his opinion- you only won him over because you bought him that one book that he’d been eyeing through a shop window.

But you were his fiancè, he was pretty sure if anything happened to you he would never be able to forgive himself. He’d probably retire outright too. He’s already let down one of the most important people in his life- and that was his maximum.

Steeling his focus, Megumi’s divine dogs suddenly shoot forward, obviously following your scent now.

Warping to keep up with the dogs he left Megumi to catch up. The caved path had gone into single meters in width and the dogs started to maneuver to the left- darting into the densest area of the forest. 

It only took about 25 seconds more but the dogs stopped at the bottom of a large dead tree. The humongous branches and twisted roots make the area look more haunting.   

Seeing the dogs sniff at the base of the large tree, Satoru slowly made his way forward to see. His fast and shallow panting not only from the long spar with you and the run to get here but also the fear that gripped his throat- tightening with each step forward.

Shooing the dogs to the side, he willed himself to look at where you were. 

Or what was left of you anyway.

A single button from your uniform lay there- slightly browned from where his purple hollow started destroying it.

The world was silent for a few seconds.

Satrou Instantly thought back to that fight with Toji, where he created a giant hole in his side.

Oh god, had he eviscerated you?

It was only meant to be a playful thing to distract you from your work. 

You guys did the same back and forth every other week, why was today the day it went wrong?

His six eyes tunnel-visioned onto the button, he swore it was mocking him.

He bent down to grab the button, legs shaking and almost giving out on him. Any moment he’d feel like he would break completely, shattering into a million pieces.

As soon as his trembling fingers grazed the still burning button, something crashed onto his back holding him down.

He couldn’t care though, at the moment all of his fight had vanished and he felt like an empty shell. Thinking it was Megumi ready to deliver the final blow he closed his eyes and waited.

“I win!”

His eyes shot open, he felt gentle hands turn him around so he was looking straight up at the person straddling him.

“I’m sorry I landed on you! I needed to surprise you and it was the only thing I could think of on the spot, I’m honestly just glad I- Satoru? Are you……crying?”

Either Megumi had killed him and he was in heaven or you were perfectly safe without even one scratch on you. 

He didn’t even realise he was crying, but when he felt your usual delicate fingers wipe his tears away he knew it was real. You were real.

He could feel the air finally able to enter his lungs fully as he closed his eyes in relief. 

You were okay.

You were safe.

You were with him.

The sounds of the forest filled the silence. Satoru used his hands to double-check you were there, running along your legs and your arms and finally resting on your face.

“Never leave me, ok?” words so soft and fragile you almost missed them.

Furrowed brows and a small confused frown graced your face as his sky-blue eyes stared dazedly into your own (e/c) ones.

“Toru what-”

“I thought something happened to you when I couldn’t feel you, I thought I ki-” He choked on a sob before he could finish his sentence. He started to shake as he couldn’t control the sobs and the cries leaving his mouth. “I couldn’t- I-I didn’t-”

“Shhh, everything is ok Toru, deep breaths” 

Having him sit up, he wrapped his arms securely- almost protectively around you as you rubbed circles on his back. This was nowhere near as bad as he was when he came home last year after being ordered to kill his best friend, but it still filled you with guilt that you were the one who caused this in the first place.

After his body had grown more lax and the wet spot on your shoulder stopped growing in size, he slowly pulled Satoru off of your shoulder so you could look him in the eyes.

“Toru I’m so sorry, I should’ve told you what my new technique was. I never meant for you to think I was hurt-” Your own sobs in regret starting to overwhelm you.” Oh God, S-Satoru I’m so sor-ry”

A small smile grew on Satoru’s face as it was his turn to wipe your tears.

“You must-must’ve been so scar-scared, and I was-s the one that did that to yo-you”

“(Y/N) It’s ok now, you’re ok”

Leaning forward until both of your foreheads were touching, you let your wings sag and curl around both of you as if to shield you from everything else.

You both waited until both of you calmed down enough to stand. 

“How did you do that anyway?” 

You hummed in confusion as he began to pick out leaves and sticks from your hair from where you were camping in the canopy of the trees.

“Your energy, It’s like it just poofed”

Giggling at his wording, you released the technique and let your energy flow around you again. He visibly relaxed as you also started brushing mud and gravel from his shoulders from where you tackled him earlier.

“It’s a technique I've been working on for a while now, basically I create a concentrated viel around myself and it keeps all traces of energy inside. It needs a lot of concentration and energy to keep it going and flexible though so I’ll need to work on that.”

“I’m really proud you’ve managed to do this yourself princess, just……next time give me a warning”

Looking up at his face from his uniform, you notice how tired Satoru seems. Dazed and droopy eyes, slumped shoulders, and a general look of sluggishness as he shuffles on his feet.

Standing on the tip of your toes, Satoru bent and met you halfway as you shared a gentle kiss. You wove your hands around the back of his neck as his sneaked around your waist. Neither one of you wanted to let the other go as Satoru pulled you closer until there was zero space left between you two.

Eventually, you both ran out of breath and slowly pulled apart. Eyes fluttering open, you searched his sky-blues for any lingering fear but you only found love.

“I promise”

Grinning, Satoru leaned down again to initiate a more heated kiss but he was interrupted by the clearing of a throat.

“If you just wanted to kiss in the forest, I would’ve stayed behind”

Groaning at Megumi’s poor timing, Satoru pulled his blindfold up and fixed his hair.

‘Menace of a child’ 

On the other hand, you started laughing at Megumi’s statement. Strolling up to him and pulling him in for a hug too.

 He shot up since he was 6 years old, now towering over you and he was still only 15 so you were he was going to rival Satoru in height. So he also had to bend down to hug you back properly, but like Satoru, once he could feel you there and alive- his shoulders sagged with relief as he just enjoyed your presence and your energy surrounding him.

Megumi was never one for words so you felt everything as he held you tighter than usual. Taking into account how Satoru reacted, you could tell Megumi was trying hard to suppress his emotions. Instead, letting them flow through him by the hard grip he had around you. You reached up to stroke his hair as you found out that was the best way to help him sleep when he was small, So you just used that knowledge to calm him down. 

When his grip loosened, you let your hands fall as you took the chance to make sure he was ok. 

He was about to say something but Satoru threw his arm around his shoulders roughly and started ruffling his hair.

The annoyance quickly returned on his face as he shoved Satoru away, calling back his divine dogs as he stalked away. 

Hearing him mutter about being around too many idiots or something as he made his way back to the other students.

Feeling Satoru weave his fingers with your left hand, you noticed some strands of hair not in their proper place.

Letting you fix his hair with your free hand, the moment you pulled back he quickly snatched it with his left hand and warped you two back to the group of students.

“Satoru! We left Megumi…” Quickly shaking off the surprise of being teleported, You turned back to the forest to look for Megumi. 

Forgetting Satoru was still holding your hands, he twirled you and dipped you until pulling you back up and wrapped his arms around you, that whole sequence making you dizzy.

“Eh, brat deserves it”

Rolling your eyes, you wiggled out of his hold and walked over to the students.

“Sensei! We thought that idiot killed you for a second” Panda yelled as you saw how tense the others were, even the usual stoic-faced Maki looked like she just saw a ghost. Frowning at what you did to everyone, you lit up again as you thought of a way to make it up to everyone.

“ No more studies for the rest of the day and I’ll take all of you out tomorrow to the new Sushi place that just opened!” 

Cheers were heard as the tension started to dissipate, students asking each other what they were going to do now with their free day.

Feeling your own tension leave your body, you decided that was enough excitement for one day.

Turning back around you had a quick hug with your fiancè and gave him a peck when you made sure the other students weren’t looking.

“Anyway, I best get going- the babysitter has a group project meeting to go to and I convinced Principle Yaga to let me work the rest of the day from home.”

“‘kay princess, want me to take you there now?”

“Thanks, Satoru but Ijichi is already waiting by the entrance and he said he’d also drop the babysitter home”

Kissing him again you walked up the stairs to grab your bag from your office.

“See you soon everyone! Love you Toru!” waving at everyone you heard them all shout goodbye and a loud ‘I LOVE YOU MORE!’ from Satoru. You giggled as you disappeared behind the large Tatami doors.

The conversation came back and Yuji came up to his Sensei in curiosity, noting he was still staring at where you disappeared. He thought it was amazing how in love you two were and you both didn’t care who was around to see it. He hoped he got that one day.

“Sensei? What did she mean by baby-sitter?” 

Satoru snapped out of his thoughts as a wide and proud grin stretched across his face- Always getting giddy whenever he gets to talk about his son.

He pulled his wallet out from his back pocket and let the comically long picture reel fall almost to the floor.

“BEHOLD! My son!” The first picture being a still frame of an exhausted but happy you in a hospital bed holding a baby with snow-white hair and Satoru next to you wrapping his arms around both of you.

“WHAT?!-”

➵➵➵➵➵➵➵➵➵➵➵➵➵➵➵➵➵➵➵➵➵➵➵➵➵➵➵➵➵➵➵

Bonus-

“SATORUUUUU!!!!! WHY IS THERE A HUGE CRATER IN MY FOREST?!?!?!?!”

Satoru scrambles to fold back up the pictures he’d been admiring alone in his classroom. But he wasn’t fast enough as his classroom doors burst open with a very furious Yaga. Satoru felt sweat bead above his blindfold as the two faculty members stared at each other.

Yaga did a quick look around the room and snapped his head back to Satoru.

“AND WHERE ARE YOUR STUDENTS?!?!? SATORU I WILL STRANGLE YOU RIGHT HERE RIGHT NOW-”

Satoru glossed over the fact that was the second time someone had threatened his life today and let out a loud screech at the approaching principal. He tried to run away but his collar was snagged as Yaga started to drag him to his office. His limbs flailing around trying to free himself and pleading with Yaga to let him go because his butt was starting to get sore.

“Strongest my ass-”