#so i connected the dots and dug it up

[warped-paranoia]

i'm all armored up, i've got my old helmet on keeping out an eye, puffing all my feathers up

[fictionismyreality3]

Flowers and First Dates

Warnings: romance and everything that comes with it, home invasions, allusions to violence

Notes: this is the longest fic I’ve written in so long and now my fingers hurt 😞

Whoever was crashing around in your store downstairs really wasn’t going to find much. It was 4am, and you had long since put away any profits for the day. Which is why it took your sleep drunk brain, eyelids heavy with a forgotten dream, to realize this was actually happening.

The sharp cracking of what you’d long since memorized to be the sound of a flower pot breaking stirred you out of your frozen terror.

Springing up from your bed, your flung the covers off in a panic, a jolt of sheer dread going down your spine when you heard a set of heavy, lumbering footsteps climbing the stairs that connected your flower shop to your flat. To you. Stumbling blindly in the dark, you pushed away the urge to turn your beside light on.

Somehow in your panic you had enough foresight to try and deceive your would-be thief into thinking you weren’t home. With shaky hands, you unlocked your phone, hitting the call button for one of your newest contacts without thought.

Price was happy for Kate. Really, he was. But the warmth and open love he saw in the eyes of her and her wife did nothing to stop the growing sour spot in his chest. And when they’d announced their plans to have a baby, even if it was just told to the small inner circle of the team, it dug the knife in John’s gut deeper.

Pushing open the door of the nearest place he could find to buy flowers, he brushed his shoes on the mat, fixing the collar of his coat in an attempt to pacify his gruff appearance.

The sound of the bell jingling brought your vision from the invoice book you were filling out.

"Hi, what can I help you with?"

Jesus fucking christ.

All the air got knocked out of Price's lungs, his mouth opening and closing as he stood there like a gaping fish. You were like a ray of sunshine. All bright smiles and dainty hands, elegant movements that he couldn't help but follow with his eyes.

And fuck, that sundress you were wearing, a pretty yellow that he was sure would be permanently burned into his eyelids. Yellow was his favourite colour now.

Running a hand over his beard, John let out a huff of air, a tortured feeling screwing itself deeper into his chest. There were posies or some shit dotted along the fabric of your dress, the dress that had his hands twitching at his side as he itched to rip it off of you. He almost forgot he was supposed to be looking at flowers for Kate, not at the flowers covering your pretty little-

"Is there something in particular you're looking for, sir?"

Sir, sir, sir, sir, sir, sir, sir-

Trying not to look like a creep, John cleared his throat, a sheepish smile on his face. "Just lookin' for some flowers for a collegue of mine, luv."

Luv, luv, luv, luv, luv, luv-

Plastering on a polite smile in an attempt to hide how your cheeks were heating up in a blush, you stepped out from around the counter, brushing the dirt off your hands. Helping him search for the right combination, you plucked out some myrtle, yellow roses, and daffodils. As you placed each one in the vase, you went over the meanings, unaware of John's intent gaze on your face.

He had no clue what a begonia was but god did he like hearing you talk.

By the time you were done putting together the bouquet, John seemed unable to wipe the smile off his face, his eyes on you the entire time. It was only when you started ringing up his total that he realized this interaction would remained entirely transactional unless he did something about it.

"Say, luv, y'got a lad waiting for you at home?" It was blunt, but he figured it better to rip the bandaid off, spare him the torture.

Your hand stilled over the buttons of the register. "Uh, no. I don't." A nervous chuckled burbled out of your mouth, cutting through the air.

"Y'want one?"

Shit.

The words seemed to catch in the air, lingering tauntingly between the two of you as Price kicked himself for not keeping a better hold on his tongue. Sparks of uncertantity fluttered in your chest. The piercing blue eyes staring back at you gave no relief, especially when they held just as much embarrassment as yours.

"Are you-"

"Do you want-"

Both of you spoke at the same time, John lowering his head and huffing out a chuckle. He cleared his throat, looking at the way your pretty face was heating up in a blush. He could ask a girl on a date. He'd done harder things. But with the way his tongue felt like lead in his mouth, it seemed a miracle he got any words out at all.

"Look, sweetheart." He sucked his teeth, eyes darting to where you were white-knuckling the counter.

"Y'seem like a lovely girl. And I'd love to.." Why was he sweating like a teenaged boy?

"Do you want my number?"

Sucking in a breath, John met your eyes with a sheepish smile. For such a soft looking thing, you had more guts than most of his rookies.

He left your shop with a bouquet and a smile.

They were fiddling with the doorknob to your apartment now. The jangling of the metal stabbed another bolt of fear in your chest. You couldn't get to the bathroom to hide. It was across the hall and you weren't really in the mood to dart out and get spotted.

The dial tone kept rumbling through the speaker of your phone. You checked the lock on your bedroom door again.

John's head was pounding, the scent of cigarettes, rum and cheap beer punching him in his throat. With a groan, he sat up and ran a hand over his beard, the sound of his phone ringing cutting through his grogginess.

"Hmm? Wha' is it?"

A sigh of relief whooshed out of your lungs, but when you went to take a breath again, all that came out was this tortured choking noise.

Eyes darting to the time, Price glanced around the rec room at his team's sleeping forms. Nobody had his phone number aside from the people he trusted, and they were all passed out in various states of drunkenness.

"Who is this?"

His voice was raspy, weathered by his constant cigar smoking. You latched on to the sound. "J-John?"

Jolting upright, Price snapped wide-awake at your panicked tone, getting up and kicking Ghost's leg to wake him up. He was already grabbing his beat-up flannel, mind running through possibilities and reasons for your distressed voice.

"What's goin' on, luv? Talk to me."

Your lip wobbled, eyes catching on the doorknob of the closet you'd locked yourself in. You could hear them in your apartment now, drawers opening and closing as they rustled around in your kitchen.

"There's someone in my h-house."

Price grabbed the keys to his truck, molten anger beginning to bubble in the center of his chest as he let out a curse. Ghost was the first to rouse, eyes snapping open in an automatic response of hypervigilance. Spotting his captain already walking out of the door, he shook Soap and Gaz awake.

"Wha'? Was try-"

"Get the fuck up, Johnny. Something's wrong."

John didn't have to look back to know his men were follwing him as he stormed through the halls of base and out to the parking lot. He didn't have to bat an eye as he tossed Gaz the keys and barked an adress at him, not bothering to explain to you how he knew where you lived.

"John? I can hear them g-getting closer." You squeaked out, picking a a hangnail to focus on anything else.

"Luv, I need y'to listen to me, alright?"

"Alright."

Gaz started the truck, pulling onto the empty 4am roads. "Take a breath for me, sweethear'.' Your lungs sucked in air regardless of your panic. "Y'somewhere with a locked door?"

"I... I locked myself in my closet."

The sniffle in your voice tore through his heart, his fists already clenching as he thought about getting his hands on whoever was stupid enough to cause you distress. "Good girl."

Gaz shot him a look.

"Jus' keep talkin' to me, yeah?"

"Please don't hang up."

Something fell with a loud crash, a whimper caught in your throat as you pressed a hand to your mouth to muffle your sobs. You could hear them getting closer and closer and soon they would-

"Darlin'?" A whiney noise came out of you. "Breathe f'me, luvie."

"John-"

Barking at Gaz to drive faster, Price countined to mutter praises into his phone, trying to keep you talking and out of the spiral of panic he could hear you slipping into.

"Ken y'tell us what's goin' on, Cap?" Soap was the only one still a little too sloshed to have put the pieces together. That, and he was a little dense sometimes.

"Someone's in my girl's house."

Johnny didn't crack a joke like he wanted to, closing his jaw that wanted to hang open as he caught the tightly contained venom in his captain's voice when he pushed Gaz to drive faster, faster. None of them had to ask for instruction. This was their captain's girl, even if they hadn't known she existed. This was personal.

Gaz shortened the 20 minute drive into 5. He could deal with the ticket later.

You were crying now, hot tears running down your cheeks as you tried to keep yourself as quiet as possible. Heavy boots stomped closer to your room. Someone was trying the doorknob. John was still talking, his husky voice running into your ear, but you couldn't hear him anymore. Not really.

You were too focused on the sound of glass shattering, a small part of you wondering if your favourite mug would survive all this. There had to be at least two people, that much you were sure of with the way the footsteps seemed to split, each pair going off to cause their own path of destruction.

"Someone's banging on my door!" You gasped, tucking your knees up to your chest. "Oh, god. John they're gonna-"

A low groan of agony morphed into a cry of anger, splitting the air. Your fear muddled mind desperately tried to catch up. They were fighting each other. Why would the theives be fighting each other?

A soft knock on your bedroom door tore you from your spiral, gentle, but loud enough for you to hear it even where you were hiding in the closet.

Blinking, the sound of John's voice brought your attention back to your phone.

"What?"

"I'm here, luvie."

What?

"Open the door, sweetheart."

"But.. but I.. you don't.." Your mouth felt dry, the words stuck like sandpaper on your tongue.

"Open the door, sweetie. Let m'see you're safe." With wooden joints, you pushed yourself off the floor of your closet, walking robotically towards the door of your bedroom. The doorknob sat mockingly.

"What if they're still there? What if they-" He cut you off with a soft shushing noise. "You trust me, yeah?" You couldn't hear the crashing or banging anymore.

"..yes." You whispered.

"Open the door."

Shaking, your fingers met the cool metal of the doorknob. You hit the lock, and before you could swing the door the rest of the way open, John was pushing his way into your room. Walking by you, he starting scanning around all while you stood there dumbfounded. Tears still drying on your face, you watched in rapt confusion as he checked the closet you were just hiding in, moving to the window and pulling back the curtain to look outside.

"John?"

Oh, you poor, sweet girl.

He pushed urge to rip the heads off the men who Ghost and Soap were now tying up in your living to the back-burner, crossing the room in two long strides. He didn't wait to take you in his arms, pulling you flush to his chest and tucking your head under his chin.

John smelt of cigars, woody and strong, the tinge of gunpowder that seemed to linger on him caused you to wrinkle your nose. His arms were around you and he kept a hand on the back of your head, preventing you from looking anywhere but his broad chest and just like that you were crying again.

"Shh.." He cooed. "I know, I know, sweetheart."

God, he hated this. Just a week. All it took was just a week and getting your phone number for you to get caught up in the messy world of his work. There was no doubt in his mind that the men who'd attempted to ransack your apartment were part of the group Laswell had the 141 hunting for the last few months. The tattoos on their hands confirming his suspiscions.

But, he didn't give a fuck about work or unraveling how they'd got close enough to find you through a phone number he got on a stroke of luck. Letting out a heavy breath, he stroked the softness of your hair, almost to reassure himself that you were safe.

"M'gonna take you with me, yeah?" With bleary eyes you looked up at him, all sniffles and sugar and he was just about ready to go stop Ghost and have a chat with the men who'd-

"I'm still... I'm still in my pajamas." Your voice was airy, trembling, something that John had seen all too well in shocked civilans. "My clothes... my.. my.." You couldn't seem to think about anything aside from how you were wearing your pajamas, your mind forcefully ignoring the state of your apartment and everything that just happened.

"S'okay, sweet girl." Glancing down at the state of you, John felt a pang in his chest. You were wearing an old t-shirt and some sleep pants with little bunnies printed on them. "Let's get you out of here, yeah?"

Opening your mouth, you tried to respond, but all you could muster was a noise of agreement.

"Jus' look at me, yeah?" Steering you out of your bedroom, John kept your shaking frame tucked carefully into his size, holding your gaze with a hand on your cheek.

"Eyes on me."

He wouldn't let you see the state of your apartment, the glass and broken furniture littering the floor.

Wrapping his flannel around you, Price drew your attention with a poorly executed joke, keeping you from seeing the bloody and battered bodies Soap and Ghost were cleaning up.

As you got to the bottom of the stairs and outside, you passed by a man with a friendly looking smile and worn baseball cap.

"M'takin her. Call Kate and let 'er know 'bout the situation. She'll send you a car."

"Right, sir."

You didn't argue when he guided you into the passenger seat of a red truck, buckling you in and going over to the driver's seat himself. You didn't argue as he started the engine, pulling onto the road and taking you somewhere else. He kept a hand on your thigh, the rough pads of his fingers rubbing soothing circles onto your skin.

Through the thick haze of your tears, you found your voice.

"Hell of a first date, huh?"

[k4marina]

— Prologue: Dragonstone|| Heart of the Dragon

synopsis: a trip to Dragonstone goes a little wrong, or does it?

game of thrones x modern!reader

4.5k+ word count

sereis masterlist || next part

"Why are we doing this during the hottest day of the year, again?" Daeron mutters, using the brochure that was given to us at the beginning of the tour as a fan.

If I could, I would've replied, but the heat was also getting to me, draining away my energy. And, on top of the scorching heat, I'd just finished the last of my water. I pursed my lips together, the line wasn’t that long and I’m sure I can buy another overpriced water bottle after we visited the caves.

The group tour guide turned back to us, just as exhausted, and somewhat bashful. He said something, but I couldn't be bothered with it as I was too focused to not tip over from the heat. It was probably something like “only a few more minutes and we’ll be outta the heat, folks,” with an awkward smile or something.

The line to the caves under the castles was stupidly long, but it's no surprise. So much history was in those caves and so many mysteries had come full circle there. And, the deeper they dug, the more they uncovered the history of the Targaryens that lived there from when Aenar Targaryen moved his entire family to Dragonstone after his daughter, Daenys “the Dreamer” dreamed of the Doom of Valyria. 

"Who's idea was it to come here for our research trip?" I didn't bother looking over at him, knowing that I'd be blinded by the sun that shone directly behind his big head.

“Shut up. Your voice is giving me a headache.” I quipped. “Besides, almost everything on this island is connected to the Targaryens. It might come useful when we have to write our research paper.”

The line moved up until our group was at the front of the line. A small group of students, along with Daeron and I, were on Dragonstone for our research projects. Some of the other students had decided to stay in Kings Landing or go to other parts of Westeros for their research.

Everyone was to spend a week in their respective areas and gather all the information they needed before heading back to Kings Landing to write and then later present their topics. Some chose to do it themselves whilst others, like us, decided to go with someone else.

Today was the first day of our stay on Dragonstone. Daeron and I had decided to check out the caves and the island's beaches before we would explore the labyrinth-like castle.

I rubbed the side of my head, feeling a headache approaching. My hand reached up to my necklace that rested on my chest. The chain was long enough for it to hang in the dip of my breast.

Not only did I come here for my project, but also for me. The necklace around my neck has been in my family for generations, but no one knows from where. It’s made entirely of Valyrian Steel, which was rare back in the day, and even rarer now.

As a child, I didn’t think much of it. It wasn’t until I grew older and more curious that I started asking questions. First to my family, but all I got was even more confusing answers that led me nowhere. Then I turned towards the internet, scouring for hours until I had found it.

On the official Dragonstone website, I found pictures of the caves under the castle and possibly under the entire island. On one of the walls was a crude hand drawing of my necklace. Two dragons around a sword with a ruby in the middle –though, the ruby was replaced with a red dot. Regardless, the cave painting matched. 

The line moved up and Daeron gently pushed me up while I was lost in my thoughts. “You good?” He asks. I nod, “Yeah. The heat’s just a lot.” He gives an understanding look. Once the tour guide is given the green light, he begins to lead up to the entrance of the cave.

"Ready?" Daeron asks. I nodded and we begin walking. Once we entered the cave, my jaw was on the floor. I had seen pictures of the caves, but seeing it in real life was far more beautiful.

The deeper we got we could see the cave paintings done by the Children of the Forest which Daenerys and Jon had found. As the guide droned on about the cave paintings, I could feel my headache intensify. Why was it so hot in here? 

The deeper and deeper we went into the caves, the worse it got. My chest started to feel heavy. I struggled to put one foot in front of the other. The back of my throat burned and I felt like throwing up, but I pushed forward. 

My eyes raked the the cave walls, Where was it? Finally, I was able to see it. The markings were next to a few unknown ones. A sign with some information was hung up next to it. Despite my head pounding I was still able to read the bold words. 

Unknown markings made by who researchers believe are the Targaryens. The paint used seemed to be as old as when Aenar Targaryen moved his family to Dragonstone.

By the time I finished reading, I could feel my head pounding so loudly in my ear. It felt like an ice pick was being hammered into the side of my head. I could hear muffled voices call out, but to who I didn’t know. The room started to spin and a ringing sound filled my ears.

A hand, most likely Derons, reached out and turned me around. I could see his mouth moving, but no words coming out. My chest felt like it was overheating while my head continued to throb. Everything turned blurry and then it went black.

When I woke up, I was still in the cave. The cold stone floor had helped with bringing my body temperature down. And, my head didn't hurt anymore. After getting up, I looked around the cave. It was darker, and quiet.

Where was everyone?

Carefully, I made my way out of the cave. It was harder to walk out of the cave and the spotlights that were on the walls weren’t on. Once I was outside I was met with the night sky.

All the tents and other buildings around the beach were gone, as if they'd never been there.

Okay, this is weird.

"Hello?" My voice came out horse like I hadn’t spoken in a long time. "Hello? Is anyone there? Daeron?" 

My feet moved on their own and I tried to find someone, anyone. But there was no one. How could a populated area with tents and buildings disappear within hours?

Retracing my steps, I found the stairs that would lead me back to the Help Center that were posted around for lost tourists, but like the beach, there was nothing. Matter a fact, even the lamppost that were posted into the ground, the banners, the signs –everything was gone.

"What the actual fuck?" Panic creeped up and I could feel my heart thumping in my ears. "Gods, If this is some kinda sick fucking joke..."

At this point, I was running towards the castle. For what? I didn't know, but surely there had to be something there. The grand doors seemed to be closed so I tried to find another way in. I guess you could say I found something like a side door that took a little force to open. 

The inside of the castle was grand. High walls, banners held high, candles and lamps lit all around. Truly, it was amazing. As I was gawking at the architecture I failed to notice unknown voices walking towards me. 

“Halt!” Two unknown men dressed in what looked like armor cornered me, pointing their spears at me. “State your name! Who are you?” 

I stuttered out my name, raising my hands up so they could see I wasn’t a threat. “I’m not going to do anything, I swear.” 

The two men shared a look and a few hushed words before one of them walked over to me, grabbing my arm roughly and pulling me along. 

“Ow!” I tried to pull back, but his grip was too strong. “What the fuck dude. I said I wasn’t a threat.”

“Khaleesi will decide if you are or are not a threat.” The man who wasn’t holding onto me said. 

Khaleesi? What Khaleesi?

“Oh please don’t tell me I just walked into those real-life roleplaying things.” I groaned, earning side eyes from both of the men. 

They led me down a series of hall ways, each one intricate as the other until we stood outside of a set of polished stone double doors. Another pair of men dressed just like the cosplayers that brought me here stood in front of the doors. Without having to say any words they opened the grand doors. 

Slowly, I could see the inside being revealed. 

There, on the elevated platform stood the Throne of Dragonstone, where all the Targaryen heirs of the Iron Throne sat as they took the title “Prince of Dragonstone.” A light push brought me back as I was dragged closer to the throne. 

“Khaleesi,” the guard called out. Before I could ask who they were speaking to, an unknown voice answered. 

“What is it?” 

Light footsteps were heard from behind a wall and a woman emerged from behind it. Except it wasn’t just any woman. Even a child would know who she was. Everyone around the world knows her. 

She was Daenerys Targaryen. 

Mother of Dragons. 

The Khaleesi of the Great Grass Sea.

The Unburnt.

The Breaker of Chains. 

I could feel time slow down as I watched her walk over to the throne and sit down. My blood turned cold as she sat in front of me. 

No.

No.

She’s dead.

This can’t be happening.

It’s not possible.

It’s not. I have better chances of reviving dragons than traveling back in time-

“What is this?” Daenerys eyed me, confused at my appearance and why I was even here before looking at the two men. 

“We found this unknown woman wandering around the castle, Your Grace.” 

She eyed me, as if wanting me to plead my case, but the words died in my throat. Why wouldn’t they when Daenerys fucking Targaryen was right in front of me. A million thoughts ran through my head, but I couldn’t rack my brain to find one answer. 

Daenerys squinted before speaking again, this time directly towards me. “Who are you?” The High Valyrian rolled easily off of her tongue like a true Targaryen. Those three words held so much power and conviction, like a true Queen.

“Y/n Vellarys!…” I rushed to reply in Valyrian. 

“You speak good Valyrian.” She praises, but it's quickly pushed away. “But that doesn’t explain what you are doing here.”

What should I do? I bit my bottom lip as nervousness filled my body. 

Knowing that if I lie, I’ll be fileted, I took a deep breath before responding. “I don't know. I.. I,” I paused, not knowing if I should continue. If this was real then I only wanted her to know, “Can we be alone.. please?” 

The two men besides me visibly tense up, but don’t speak up. Daenerys looks down at us, seemingly in thought before she nodded. The two men bow before turning around to leave. The double doors closed with a loud thud. 

“We’re alone now, you may continue.” 

I nervously swallowed. Here we go. “This might sound weird, but.. I don’t know how I got here. I.. I woke up in the caves under the castle… alone.”

Daenerys’ face stayed neutral as I relayed the information. She seemed to take some time to process what I had just said. “Do you think I’m a fool?” 

I could feel my heart fall all the way down. Fuck.

“You woke up in the caves alone?” She repeats. “Not even a child would come up with such a stupid story like this.”

“N-n-no, Daener- I mean, Your Grace. I swear to the Gods that I’m telling the truth. I have no reason to lie to you. Especially when you could get rid of me with your dragons in a second.”

She seemed to mull over my words, as if weighing her options. “Alright, let's say you’re telling the truth. Your story still doesn’t make sense. How do you just “wake up” in a cave?” 

Now or never, I guess. 

“Actually,” I could feel my heart pounding in my chest. “I’m not from here. I come from-” The future. Fucking hell, how cliché. “-I come from a different… time.” 

Daenerys squinted and I could see the clogs in her brain moving. “You mean you’re from the future?” 

Jeez. Ripped the bandage right off. 

“Well –uh, yes,” I say. “I was touring the caves and then I –I fell unconscious or something, I still don’t know, I just know that when I woke up I ended up here.” 

I let out a frustrated sigh. What if this was just a dream and that all of this is just my imagination running wild. 

“That necklace.” 

Huh? What is she talking about? 

 I looked up, confused. “What?” 

She pointed towards my chest. I looked down and I could see my necklace was out. “What about it?” I asked.

“Where did you get it?” 

“It’s mine.” I replied. “It’s been in my family for generations. Why?” 

Now it was Daenerys’ turn to look a little nervous. 

“I’ve seen it in my dream.”

“Your dream? Like, one of those Dragon Dreams?” I ask. She gives a nod, “While we were sailing to Dragonstone I had a dream of a woman with silver hair and that necklace. Because I couldn’t see her face, I thought it was me. I’ve turned the treasury over looking for them; however, it seems that I dreamt of you.”

Ho-ly Fuck. Daenerys’ dreamt about me. What the hell. I’m about to throw up. 

“What?” Now it was my time to be skeptical of what was being said. “You dreamt about me and my necklace?”

She nodded. “It seems odd, but a Dragon Dream has never been wrong.”

“Ture, but that still leaves a lot of blanks.” My hand subconsciously went up to hold my necklace while I tried to think back. 

The deeper I walked into the cave the more my head started to hurt, but that was most likely because of dehydration… probably. But then there was a burning feeling on my chest when I looked at the symbol on the wall that matched my necklace and the burning feeling got even more intense and it felt like it was about to burn my skin-

“Fuck.” I groaned, letting go of the necklace. The outburst made Daenerys frown, “Are you alright?”

I looked down at my hands and at my necklace before looking into her eyes. “I think my necklace tried to burn me, like last time.” 

“Last time?” She frowned. “How can a necklace burn someone?”

“I don’t know. It happened before I passed out in the cave.” I let out a sigh. “Gods, what is going on.” 

“It seems that this was the God's doing,” Daenerys says, as if it was a fact. “They’ve brought you here.” 

“The Gods?” I repeat. Sure, in some sense they did bring me here. “But why?” 

“That may be something for you to find out.” Daenerys stood from the throne, walking down the steps until she was right in front of me. “I was lost once, but then the Gods gifted me my children to show me my true purpose.” 

“The Iron Throne.” I thought back to my history classes where I learned that for the fight for the Iron Throne, Daenerys lost her life as she fell into what historians said was “Targaryen Madness,” but I’ve always felt that there’s more to it. 

“It’s late, I’ll have the servants bring you to a spare room for you to rest in for the night.” As if on cue, the guards from before stepped up to us. “We can talk further tomorrow morning.”

Daenerys turned to leave from where she came from. The guards bowed as she left. Once she was gone they brought me to a spare room somewhere in the castle, this time without having to pull me around. 

The hallways were nearly empty, meaning there weren’t a lot of people living here or servants working in the castle. The most I’d seen was guards posted around. Once we were in front of two thick double doors the guards stepped back waiting for me to open them. 

It took a little force to open the door, but once I was inside, my jaw was on the floor. Despite everything being made of stone, the walls were covered in rich tapestry. There was a giant bed with lavish looking furs laid atop the bed and maroon bed sheets. 

Behind me, a servant walked in with a few sets of clothes and laid them on the bed. “We’ve prepared you some clothes,” she said. “Would you like to change now or take a bath?” 

As if on cue, I could feel how dirty I was since I was practically on the cave floors for Gods knows how long. 

“A bath would be fine, thank you,” I replied. It honestly felt weird watching servants work. Not that it was bad, just the fact that in the modern day you don’t have them. Sure maybe someone who cleans your home or makes you food, but servants?

Once they had pulled out the massive tub and manually poured in the hot water they led me to the tub. One of their hands went up to my shirt's edge and the other to my pants. 

“W-wait!” They all looked at me confused. 

“Is everything alright, My Lady?” One of the servants asked. 

No it’s not. You’re taking my clothes off. And sure, it’s your job to do practically everything for a highborn, but that ain’t me. 

“Uh, there’s no need for… all of this. I can do it myself.” 

“Are you sure?” Another girl asked. “It’s our duty to serve you.” 

“Yeah, I’m pretty sure.” I replied awkwardly. “Just not really used to all of… this. Um, anyways I can take it from here. You guys can go…” 

I internally cringed at my words. Gods, I sounded like an idiot, but could you blame me? 

The girls reluctantly agreed, leaving me alone in the room. Once they were gone I let out a sigh and began to undress myself. The water was hot, but it was fine since I practically liked showering in lava every morning. 

Settling into the tub I finally relaxed. This entire thing was just so… bizarre. At first, I thought it was some sort of dream, but that searing pain I felt wasn’t something I could just imagine. 

My necklace burned me. 

And it burned me when I first saw the markings on the cave walls. I looked down at my chest and hand, but saw nothing. 

Okay, weird. 

That aside, why was I even brought here? Why me? What do I have that made me so special that I had to be flung into this era of time?

“Think, y/n, think,” I muttered to myself. The dream. Daenerys’ dream about the necklace. But wait, no history books said anything about her having a dragon dream. Could this maybe be connected?  

For the next hour, I mulled over my options while I soaked in the tub that had turned lukewarm. Having enough, I got up and grabbed the towels that the servants had thankfully set close for me. 

The clothes that they had laid out for me were a bunch of nightgowns. Thankfully, they were my size. I decided to wear a simple white nightgown. 

Laying under the mountain of covers and blankets, I finally let myself completely relax, falling asleep. Hopefully tomorrow’s discussions can help this situation get better or at least easier. 

I woke up to the sun glaring down into my face. Groaning, I turned to my side, hoping to get some more sleep. But the damage was done. 

I could hear light shuffling in the room and things being moved around. When I opened my eyes, I was nearly flash-banged. All the windows (that are floor to ceiling length) were opened and the curtains were drawn back. 

A few servants from last night and a few new faces worked around the room. I sat up in bed, rubbing my eyes, catching the attention of one of the girls. 

“Good morning, My Lady. Did you sleep well?” 

“Morning,” my voice came out a little low and rough. “What’s going on?” 

“We’re getting you ready for the day,” the girl replies, matter of factly. “You will be having your morning meal with the Queen. We’ve already drawn you a fresh new bath and arranged a new set of clothes.” 

I looked at where the tub was last night, nothing that was gone, along with my clothes. 

“Where are my clothes?” I asked. 

“We’ve sent them to get washed,” the servant replied. “My Lady, if i may…” 

I nodded for her to go on. “We’ve never seen such clothes like yours before. They remind us of what the men wear however, yours are a bit more.. different.” 

“Oh, that. They’re just something that I made.” I lied. Thinking back to last night, I’m confused I didn’t get as many weird looks as I should have wearing my jeans and shirt. It's not really the typical Westerosi fashion for this time. 

“The bath is ready.” Another girl says. 

Reluctantly, I got out of bed, following them to another room adjacent to this one. The room was a massive bathroom that could function as a bathhouse. 

There was a massive tub nestled into the floor. The windows were also huge but a little higher up, letting in some natural light. I could tell the water was hot just by how much it was steaming. 

Carefully, the servants began to undress me. They led me into the water and began adding what I can only assume are oils and salts. Truthfully, it felt like I was at some fancy spa with how they washed my body and hair. 

Once that was done, they helped me into a beautiful white dress with a dark teal and gold design. I felt like a model wearing such a beautiful dress. I let my hair down, not wanting it in any style (or knowing any styles of this period). 

A servant walked me to the dining room where Daenerys was waiting for me. She wore a light blue dress with her hair braided and her three headed dragon pin.  

“Good Morning,” she greeted. 

“Morning uh, Your grace.”  I replied. “Sorry, I’ve never called anyone “your grace” before.” 

She brushed it off, motioning for me to take a seat next to her at the table where the food was already prepared. 

“How did you sleep?” She asks, beginning to eat. 

“Fine, surprisingly.” I reached down to grab a fork for my food. “How about you?” 

Was I really making small talk with Daenerys Targaryen? 

“Mine as well,” she smiled. “I was hoping we could talk a little before I had to go meet my small council.” 

“Okay, what did you want to talk about?” I wanted to smack myself. Every time I spoke it was full of nerves and anxiety. 

“Let’s start with you. Your name and where you’re from.” Daenerys says confidently. “Judging by your looks, you’re of Valyrian descent.” She says, eyeing my silver hair. 

“Yes,” I nodded. “My family moved from Volantis to the Eyrie. My family is known to be of the Old Blood in Volantis.” 

“The Old Blood?” Daenerys says, surprised. 

The Old Blood are a group of people in Volantis that have proven to be the last remaining families of Valyria. They live in a perched area of the city that only they can walk. All the families in that area still continue their Valyrian traditions and practices, just minus the dragons. 

I nodded, “My father is the youngest of four sons, so he thought ‘why not move to westeros and start something there?’ knowing that he wouldn’t have to really carry on the family name.” 

“And your family name is Vellarys?” She recalled from last night. 

“Yes. We’re known for our jewelry making in Volantis. That’s why my father moved to Westeros, to open a shop there without having to take over the business and stress like his older brother.

“As for myself, I have two older brothers. One is working to be a doctor,” Daenerys frowned at that, confused, “uh, it’s like a Maester. The other is helping my father run the shop.” 

“And what about yourself?” 

“I’m in school. I go to the University of Kings Landing.” 

“The.. University of… Kings Landing?” 

“Well, after the monarchy was sorta let go, they turned certain parts of the Red Keep and other castles into Universites -places to go for higher studies, like the.. Citadel for example.” 

Daenerys nods, understanding some of it. 

“I study the era of The Game of Thrones as well as Targaryen History.” 

“The Game of Thrones?” She repeats. “What is that?” 

“It’s, uh, what we call this time period. It ranged from the death of King Robert to,” the death of Daenerys Targaryen, “to now, and a little later. We look into how the events after Robert’s death played out and how people fought for the Iron Throne.” 

“Like a game.” She says. 

I nodded. “Yes, like a game. There’s this quote that Cersie Lannister said to Ned Stark that summed it up, “When you play the game of thrones, You win or you die,”.”

“I see,” Daenerys looks down at her plate in thought. “And what about me?” 

Oh fuck. 

“What about you?” I say, acting innocent. 

“What happened to me?” 

I purse my lips together. Should I say it? I mean, it’s a good segway to what I want to really say… if this part goes well. 

“You…” I nervously swallowed. “You die… before you could even claim the throne.” 

The fork in her hand hits the ceramic plate with a loud clunk. 

“What?” 

Nervously, I looked into her. “You were killed… after you burned Kings Landing to ashes.” 

She frowned. “You're lying. I would never do such a thing. Me? Burning down Kings Landing? 

And the Red Keep, but I’ll keep that to myself. 

“I’m not lying, Daenerys. After you died, Drogon picked you up and flew you away. We still haven’t found your or his body.” 

Daenerys' hands started to shake at the information I had just thrown at her. Carefully, I placed mine over hers. 

“Daenerys,” I said softly. “Breath. You’re fine, nothing has happened so far.” 

Slowly, I could feel her hands stop shaking and her breathing seemed to steady. 

“What do you mean so far?” 

I gave her hand an encouraging squeeze although, I can’t tell if it was for me or her. 

“Meaning, I can help you.” 

She looks at me, puzzled. 

“Daenerys, I can help you take the Iron Throne.” 

okayyyy so it's finally here after many rewrites. let me know if you guys liked the first person POV. its my first time writing it like this, typically i do second POV. more to come in later chapters. also, i will be changing a few things, nothing major. one personal head cannon that i have is that jon isn't really named aegon, but jaehaerys. makes a lil more sense in my brain. also, i'll maybe be using some info from the books. and if you guys have any suggestions with y/n's character and other stuff please feel free to let me know. don't worry there will be more story and character development in the coming chapters.

[harknessxo]

Okay I may sound insane but could I request a one shot or short story whatever you are more comfortable writing. The premises behind the story is the reader is an apothecary witch from Agatha’s past. Agatha has asked her to join them in walking the road as well as the others. She reluctantly agreed but not without attitude. The problem with going on this journey at least for the reader is that she’s not just a scorn witch from Agatha‘s past, but one that she would have considered a friend along time ago. Agatha would always come to her in order to be healed or for a remedy due to whatever difficult situation she got herself into overtime. They grew closer together, but Agatha made it apparent that she wasn’t capable of the type of relationship the reader was wanting from her. Not to the readers knowledge, but because of everything that had happened between her and Rio.

How the story starts is that they are currently on the road after completing the second trial in the studio and healing teen from his injury . At the campfire while all the different witches are trading their battle stories you listen to Agatha speak and then Rio. Somewhat connecting the dots on your own, but not fully believing it, not until you follow them both and watch the scene that unfolds between them in the fourth episode. It’s then that the reader realizes that maybe Agatha was always capable of feeling that type of emotional vulnerability but the reader just wasn’t worth it. How it ends is really up to you. It could be somehow Agatha figured out that the reader was spying on them and then fixes it in a sweet way to show that the reader is worth it. or it could be Agatha completely denying any change between her and Rio that she was only using manipulation tactics to see if teen was her son, a mix of both. I’m not picky.

Once again, if this is too insane, please ignore it. I do understand it’s completely random, but I do love your writing style and do you think you would do it absolute justice!!!!

THE GREATEST

Paring: Agatha Harkness x reader

Summary: look at the request ^

Warnings; angst…

Word Count: 2.0k

Part 2

A/n: I hope you like this anon! I know you lowkey wanted a happy ending but angst took over. I’m open to making a part two if you’d like! Also this originally had nothing to do with the song “The Greatest” but then I added a part of the lyrics so…

“Jen! Y/n! Do something please!” Agatha pleaded, holding Teen’s hand tightly. You and Jennifer looked at each other, trying to figure out something that would heal his wound and help him survive. You both quickly made a substance and spread it over his wound. He groaned in pain but the wound healed and he continued to sleep. You all gently picked him up and placed him in a better place to rest. Agatha stayed by his side, refusing to leave and the rest of you went to make a bonfire.

You sat down around the fire for an awkward moment before Alice chose to speak up to start a conversation. She shared her experience with her curse and her scars and soon everyone told their experiences except Rio. You didn’t like her from the second she dug herself out of the ground. You could tell there was immense tension between her and Agatha and you detested it.

“How is he?” Alice’s voice brought you back to reality. You looked up and saw Agatha taking a seat next to Rio.

“Mouthy,” she replied sarcastically.

“That’s a good sign,” Lilia commented.

“Agatha,” Jen started, “Why don’t you show us your battle scars?” Agatha hesitated for a moment before she started rolling up the sleeve of her left arm. Your eyes diverted to Rio who chuckled while she gave Agatha a knowing look.

“Knitting needle to the elbow,” she said, showing off the scar on her elbow, “You ever heard of the daughters of liberty?” of course you knew of them, you were the one that healed said scar but the rest shook their heads having no idea, “Exactly.” All the witches chuckled her light joke and you could tell Agatha enjoyed it. The joyful moment suddenly came to a stop when Rio decided to speak up.

“I’ve got a scar.” All eyes turned to Rio as she spoke. Agatha’s expression changed, her face becoming serious and a bit irritated.

“No you don’t,” Agatha was quick to deny. How would she know that? You thought.

“Yes I do,” she insisted, “…A long time ago, I loved someone,” she side eyed Agatha, “…and I had to do something I did not want to do even though it was my job,” she emphasized the last word and you saw Agatha looked away from the corner of your eye. She clenched her jaw, her eyes fixed elsewhere. The other witches exchanged glances, sensing the tension between the two. Rio continued to speak.

“And it hurt them,” there was a pause, “…she’s my scar.” It wasn’t hard to figure out who she was talking about and it angered you even further. Why did Agatha lie to you? Were they still together when you fell in love? Were you just not enough?

“I’m gonna go stretch my legs,” Agatha said standing and walking away, Rio hot on her trail. Curiosity got the better of you and decided to follow them, the worst decision you could have made.

You watched their interaction, the hug, the loving look, and before their lips touched you walked away. You had seen enough. You fought with every bone in your body trying to keep your sobs at bay. You felt so betrayed but you shouldn’t. Agatha had made it crystal clear that she couldn’t pursue a commitment relationship with you like you wanted. That she wouldn’t. It hurt to hear but maybe it was for the best, especially if she was still messing around with Rio.

You made your way back to the campfire, trying to hide the tears in your eyes. The others looked at you, noticing the change in your demeanor.

“Are you alright?” Lilia asked, her voice filled with concern.

“I’m f-fine,” your voice cracked a bit, “That last trial just had me a little shaken, that’s all.” Alice frowned and shifted closer to you, rubbing your back soothingly.

“Are you sure?” she asked.

“Mhm…” You gave her a reassuring smile before sitting back down by the fire. Alice didn’t seem convinced but didn’t press further. The others exchanged glances, clearly worried about you but they didn’t say anything. Soon Agatha came back taking a seat next to you with no trace of Rio but you remained silent. Agatha looked at you, noticing your lack of response. She was oblivious to the facts that you had seen her with Rio.

“Are you alright, sweetheart?” You didn’t reply and her eyebrows furrowed in confusion and concern. She gently placed her hand on your shoulder, trying to get your attention.

“Hey, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” you shrugged her hand off. She was taken aback by your cold response. She was used to you being more open and warm, not this.

“Bullshit,” she said firmly, crossing her arms.

“It’s not like you would fucking care,” you spat out, getting up and walking away. She wanted to go after you but Rio appeared and held her back.

“Let her cool off. I’m sure it’s nothing.” She said into Agatha’s ear.

“Yeah…maybe you’re right.”

—

After everyone was rested, you all continued to walk the road onto the next trial. Usually you would have stayed by Agatha's side but you chose to stay with Lilia and Alice this time. You thought Agatha hadn't noticed, too deep in a conversation with Rio but she did and she was not happy at all.

Agatha’s eyes narrowed as she watched you walk with Lilia and Alice. She tried to keep her cool, but the sight of you ignoring her and choosing to stay away from her made her feel frustrated and angry. She couldn’t understand why you were acting this way and why you were avoiding her. Her fist balled up tightly when she saw you laughing with Alice. Rio noticed Agatha’s reaction and placed a hand on her shoulder.

“Calm down, sweetheart. You’re going to give yourself wrinkles.”

“I just don’t understand what happened!” Agatha said, frustrated. Rio rolled her eyes before cupping Agatha’s face, making her look at her.

“Don’t worry about her. She’s probably just throwing a tantrum.” Agatha’s face was filled with irritation as she listened to Rio’s words.

“Tantrum? She’s never like this! I’ve never seen her this upset before, she’s avoiding me, she’s acting like a brat.”

“Relax, Agatha,” she kissed her cheek, “Just focus on me.” Her irritation slowly melted away as Rio kissed her cheek. She looked at her and took a deep breath, trying to push her worries about you to the back of her mind.

“You’re right,” she said, forcing a smile. She needed to keep Rio happy for now, just until they got to the end of the road.

Your eyes had wandered to the two women at some point and you regretted it immediately, seeing Rio kiss Agatha’s cheek. Rio looked in your direction while doing it with a smirk on her face. You wanted to lounge at her but for what? For Agatha? She didn’t want you anyway, you just had to come to peace with that.

Rio caught your eye and noticed the hurt and jealousy in your expression. She couldn’t help but feel a sense of satisfaction. She knew she was getting to you, and that only made her more determined to keep Agatha away from you.

You all eventually found the next trial inside another house. You all split up into pairs to find some sort of clue. Alice and Teen, Jen and Lilia and of course, Agatha and Rio. Lilia offered to go with you but you declined and said you could take care of yourself if something happened.

She had looked at you with concern but respected your decision. She nodded and went off with Jen to search the house. You were left alone, walking through the house and looking for clues. You could hear the others calling out to each other as they searched different rooms. Suddenly, you heard footsteps approaching you and you already knew who it was.

“Agatha, shouldn’t you be with Rio?” She appeared from behind you, her expression serious.

“Why are you avoiding me?”

“You seemed busy with Rio, that’s all.”

“You saw that…” she said, realizing what you were referring to.

“Yeah. You know, I thought you said you couldn’t pursue the type of relationship I wanted from you. Now I know you simply wouldn’t do it, with me at least. Why don’t you go back to your precious green witch. I’m sure she’s already missing you.” Agatha’s expression softened and she looked hurt by your words.

“It’s not like that…”

“Please,” you laughed, shaking your head, “Save it. I literally saw you two about to kiss.”

“You don’t understand…” she stepped closer.

“Agatha, what is there to understand? You lied to me. You said your heart was jaded and then I find out you have an ex lover who you seem to still be in love with.”

“Don’t act like you know everything. You don’t understand the situation between Rio and me.” Her eyes flashed with irritation.

“Then lay it out for me Harkness!” She clenched her jaw, her hands balling into fists. She took a deep breath before speaking.

“Rio and I…we have a complicated history. We were together a long time ago, and it didn’t end well. We had a falling out and we haven’t spoken in years. Seeing her again has brought up a lot of old feelings and emotions that I didn’t know how to deal with.”

“…do you love her?”

“No, of course not-” she said without hesitation.

“Then what’s the deal? Does she know that? Because she seems to know the effect you two have on me.”

“My sweet Y/n,” she cupped your face, “I just need her and the rest of the witches to get me to the end and then you and I can be together-”

“It’s not that simple Agatha,” you shoved her off, finally letting the tears fall, “I don’t even know if I can trust you. And what of her, huh? You’re just gonna leave her hanging? How do I know you won’t do the same with me? How do I know you’re not just using me?!”

“I’m not using you! I care about you, Y/n. You have to believe me.” She reached out to touch you but stopped herself.

“How can I?! You have a reputation, Agatha!” Her face fell, hurt by your words.

“You don’t trust me because of my reputation? I thought you knew me better than that…”

“So did I...” your voice broke at the end. She was speechless. She knew you were right. She had hurt you, and now you didn’t trust her. The realization hit her like a ton of bricks.*

“I…I don’t know what to say…”

“Then don’t say anything,” you tried to walk past her but she quickly grabbed your arm, stopping you from walking away.

“Please, don’t go. We need to talk about this.”

“What is there to talk about? You’ve made your choice and it clearly isn’t me.”

“That’s not true! I do care about you. I just…I don’t know what to do. Seeing Rio again has brought up all these memories and feelings that I thought I buried a long time ago. I don’t know how to handle it all.”

“Then come back once you’ve figured it out,” you roughly freed yourself from her grip and walked away to find Lilia and Jen. You didn’t want to walk away. You wanted to cling to her but you couldn’t get yourself into a situation where you would eventually get hurt…again.

Agatha watched you walk away, her heart breaking. She wanted to call out to you, to beg you to stay, but she knew she had messed up. She felt a mix of guilt and regret, knowing that she had hurt you deeply. She sank to the ground, her head in her hands. She replayed the argument over and over in her head, regretting every word she said. She wanted to make things right with you, but she knew it wouldn’t be easy. As much as she cared about you, she couldn’t deny the history she had with Rio. She was at a crossroads, torn between two people who both meant something to her.

Taglist; @oh-no-bummer @wandasreallover @polaris-likethestar

Agatha Harkness Taglist Sign Up Sheet

[mabelstone]

Why would you be loved?

hozier x f!reader

part two of lullabies <3 | part one | masterlist

cw: teeeeeny bit of violence at very beginning ... also 18+ ok if u are unfamiliar with me... this is my thing. this character is FICTIONAL before u attack me for sexualising THE hozier

word count: 3.2k

*i've decided i'd like this to be a slow burn... but don't worry! i will add things to keep u interested (or attempt to)

The sticky slap of their skin echoed through the room, my heart thudding loud enough in my ears to deafen the noise.

I lurched forward, grabbing the leggy blonde from the bar by her hair, yanking her off of Joe and slamming her naked body into the wall. She gasped loudly, falling onto the ground where she watched on in horror. I grabbed the nearest object I could reach - his bedside lamp - smashing the ceramic over his head, screaming in his face about how he's fucked this up for good.

Except that's not what happened.

I opened the door to the same scenario, except I didn't lose my temper and tear the two of them to shreds. My heart still pounded harder than ever, but I simply backed out into the hall without a sound. My eyes must've been something of a Tim Burton character as I walked back outside, leaving the front door wide open. I didn't even grab anything as my handbag was still over my shoulder. I dug around for my phone, finding nothing but an old gum packet, some lipgloss, and some loose change.

"Fuck," I muttered under my breath, running my hands through my hair. I had my phone in the bar. Did I leave it in Andrew's car? Fuck, did I leave it at the bar? I began to panic, frantically walking down the street. As if I could walk all the way back! It was at least 15 kilometres from my place. I didn't care though, continuing to pace in the cold in clothing more suited to warmer weather. I kept replaying what I saw over and over in my head. I'd usually call my mum, but...

The way his hands were digging into her skin, the way she kept repeating how good he was making her feel. I felt sick to my stomach, and the alcohol wasn't helping. I'm not sure they even saw me, but once he finished (judging by the sounds he was making, wouldn't be too long) he'd see the doors open and connect the dots.

I turned my head as I heard someone whistle from across the street, inexplicably grateful to see Andy's car. "What're you doin'?"

"Do you have my phone?" My voice sounded foreign to me, robotic and desperate at the same time. I crossed the street, heading straight for the passenger side.

"Your lifeline is right here, hence why I am," he laughed, holding my phone out to me. I just stood at the door expressionless, and he probably thought my drinks had been spiked or I'd gone mad. "You... alright?"

"Joe is cheating on me," robotically sounding again. Though saying the words out loud made it suddenly real. Joe is cheating on me.

"What?" His eyebrows shot up, dipping his head to see my face better. "What? When?"

"Like, literally right now," I laughed. I began to laugh hysterically, having to rest my hands on the top of his car to steady myself. I laughed so hard, tears began to stream down my face and my stomach hurt.

The next thing I knew, that familiar warm hand was on my back, followed by a soft, "c'mere". I turned to face Andrew, immediately bursting into tears. Real tears this time. He pulled me in close to his chest, one arm easily wrapped around my shoulders, the other cradling the back of my head. I sobbed into his shirt, likely accidentally digging my nails into his back as I clung to him. If I did, he didn't comment on it. He held me tight, rubbing soft circles into my spine with his palm. I don't know how long we stood there for, but when I pulled away, his shirt was soaked and covered in mascara.

"I'm so sorry," I gave a half hearted laugh, gesturing to the stained cotton. "I will wash it for you, I'm good at getting stains out."

"Don't be ridiculous," he smiled that poor you smile he always did, but this time it felt like a comfort as he shook his head. "You can come back to mine and shower. Then we can figure this out."

"No, no, I don't want to put you out." I protested, wiping under my eyes, undoubtedly smudging the black into my hairline. I sniffled, wiping my snotty nose onto the sleeve of my cardigan. If Joe was right about Andy being infatuated with me, I definitely just destroyed that in one simple, snotty gesture.

"I insist," he smiled, leaning against the side of the car. I was exhausted, and a nice shower in a house that didn't reek of infidelity sounded too good to reject. I nodded and climbed into the passenger seat for the second time tonight, switching on my phone to see no new messages. Maybe he didn't see me after all.

I slipped into an oversized hoodie of Andrew’s after my shower, steam on the mirror and condensation on every surface from the amount of time I was in there. I felt guilty using his water, but time slipped away from me by the time I realised. He had real shampoo and conditioner, not that pathetic 3 in 1 bullshit Joe used. I stole a hair tie and hid my messy curls in a bun. I honestly looked like a mess, but it was definitely an improvement from before. My eyes were bloodshot and puffy. Most of the alcohol had fleeted my system, so now I was just exhausted and forced to bask in the reality of the situation.

I walked into his living room where he was sat, one arm slung over the back of the couch while the other flicked through Netflix. It was strange to see him in his space, so comfortable and… domestic. No, we’re not doing this. Yet.

I looked down and saw a black border collie mix strewn across his lap. “Oh my goodness!” I swooned as I headed straight for the dog. Andy mustn’t have heard me, jumping slightly and cursing under his breath. “How rude of me. Who’s this little angel?”

“The breaking of my heart,” he began, hand over his chest as he stared lovingly down at his dog. “Elwood.”

“Elwood? Really?” I quirked an eyebrow, looking up to Elwood’s owner.

“It’s a beautiful name for a beautiful boy, I don’t understand the issue?”

I rolled my eyes, going back to snuggling the dog, kissing his face all over. “He is beautiful. Yes you are!” Elwood wagged his tail excitedly, slobbering happily all over my hands.

Andrew chuckled down at us, averting his eyes back to the TV, a soft smile lingering on his lips.

“Thanks for letting me use your shower, Andy,” I smiled, sitting beside him on the lounge, feeling like the human embodiment of the calm after a storm.

“Oh, that’s no problem at all," he grinned earnestly, playing the pilot of Breaking Bad softly in the background. He lulled his head to the side, eyes glistening in the soft golden lighting of the lamp in the corner of the room. "Want a tea?"

"Please," I nodded, Elwood now snuggled into my lap. The moment he left the room, I was left with the crushing reality of what'd just happened. The horrible sound that plagued my phonic memory, as if it were played through headphones at a deafening volume. I tried to focus on the TV, Breaking Bad had always been my favourite. It was no use, the gut wrenching ache within me only multiplied by the minute, tears welling in my eyes, daring to fall.

"I wasn't sure how you take it so I bought everything with me," he placed two tea cups onto his coffee table, along with a carton of milk and a canister of sugar.

"So adorable, you remind me of my gran," I teased, desperately trying to blink away any trace of sadness before he had a chance to see. I didn't need to burden him with any more tears.

"You know, I've been called far worse," he shrugged, taking his tea black, sitting beside me on the couch. "So I'll take it."

I hummed in response, mixing in my milk and sugar.

"So... maybe a redundant question, but, how're you feeling?"

"Well," I chuckled bitterly, sipping from my tea. "Probably feeling as you'd expect. Actually, that's a lie. I don't know how I feel honestly."

His eyes studied my features, and I deliberately avoided his gaze. His dog snored away in my lap, the TV just loud enough that any amount of silence couldn't be awkward.

"Has... anything like this happened to you?" I asked, despite the voice in my head telling me not to.

"Ehm, yeah. Not too long ago, actually," he sighed, running a hand through his hair, his chocolate curls flicking up at the ends, framing his face beautifully in the light. "We were together for three years. She was sleeping around with a friend of mine. She broke it off with me when she decided she'd rather be with him."

"Her loss," I mirrored that same pitiful look he always gave me, the slight drop in his expression making me feel guilty for even asking. "You make a mean cup of tea."

"If only she could appreciate the art of English Breakfast," he sighed, a sad smile lingering on his lips despite the sarcasm in his tone.

"I'm sorry to hear that, Andy," I sighed, tempted to reach out for him but deciding against it in fear of breaching some unspoken boundary. "I'll get out of your hair soon."

"You can stay- only if you'd like," he offered awkwardly, eyes flickering to mine as he fiddled with the handle of his cup. "There's a spare bedroom."

"No, no. You've been so kind tonight, I don't want to push it," I shook my head, misjudging the height of the coffee table, my cup hitting it with a sharp clank. Elwood startled, throwing his head back to look at me. "Sorry, buddy."

"You're not pushing anything," he laughed, shaking his head now. "It's late. The decision's all yours. But I must say, that bed might be nicer than my own."

"Quite persuasive, aren't you?" I grinned, throwing my head back against the couch, weighing up my options. Well, I can't go home. "Okay. I'll stay... if you're sure that's okay?"

"Well, because you're twisting my arm..." He joked, that bright, happy smile making its glorious return. "I'll get you a spare toothbrush and a bottle of water. You've had a big night."

"Yeah," I breathed, rubbing at my burning, no doubt bloodshot, eyes. "I am exhausted."

"Come, I'll show you to your room," he got up from the couch, extending his hand to me. I took it in mine, warm and calloused; so large, his fingers reached my wrist as he helped me from the couch. I followed behind him, the soft padding of our feet up the stairs slowly becoming the only sound audible. Elwood trailing close behind, of course.

He showed me to the guest room, nothing special, but somehow a massive comfort. A navy blue, fluffy duvet with a bedside table, a simple lamp and a copy of Inferno by Dante Alighieri atop it.

"Oh, I'll grab that toothbrush," he waved his hand as if he were finally able to dismiss the thought. I chuckled at the way he hurried out of the room, the exhaustion rippling through my body as I sat on the edge of the bed. He was right. This might be the comfiest bed I've ever had the pleasure of sitting on. I zoned out, staring at the carpet as I finally sobered up. These past few weeks had been fucked, and I knew they'd only get worse. My phone started buzzing rapidly as Andy came back into the room, a bottle of water, a toothbrush still in the packaging, and a sheet of panadol in his hands. He silently placed them onto the bedside table, both of us just watching my phone ring. It was Joe.

Against my better judgement, I picked up on the last ring, raising the phone to my ear.

"Where are you?" His voice was hoarse, unsuspecting. Idiot.

"Doesn't matter," I sighed, nauseated at the sound of his voice.

"Well, it does. I've been worried sick about you, you're meant to be home now. How would I know you hadn't been kidnapped or gone home with some creep?"

"That is ironic," I laughed, though there was no humour in my tone.

"The fuck are you on about? Get home right now." He was getting angrier by the second. Andrew could hear every word, his brows knitted together in disgust as he listened on.

"I did come home. You were a bit busy," I swallowed harshly, my voice failing me, beginning to shake.

There was silence on his end for a good thirty seconds, all air in Andrew's small guest bedroom thinning at once. "...Babe. We will get through this."

"I don't think so."

"Don't say shit like that. I love you, Y/N. We'll get through this stronger than ever. Just come home, baby. I'll make it up to you," he was speaking fast, panicked almost.

"I need some space," I replied weakly, eyes filling with tears again.

"No. I love you. Come home. Please, babe, pl-"

I hung up on him before he got the chance to manipulate me straight back into his arms, Andy watching me with a frown. Suddenly, it was all too real, and I was breaking down in front of him for the second time tonight.

He didn't say anything. I felt the bed dip beside me, his warm arm wrapping around my shoulder, pulling me in close. We stayed like that for a while - my head leaned against his shoulder as I cried, his head atop mine - until I felt like there was no water left in my body. I heaved a massive sigh, sitting up straight again.

"Oh, Andy, I'm so s-"

"You've nothing to be sorry for," he hushed me, sincerity written all over his face, kind emerald eyes revealing that he wasn't doing anything for secondary gain; he was just a beautiful soul. "Get some rest."

"Okay," I agreed, pulling back the covers with his help. I wanted him to stay, I didn't want to be alone. I wished he could've just laid with me, no meaning attached, but just to have the warmth of another to occupy the cold, empty bed. Instead I thanked him again, pulling the covers up to my chin.

"You know where my room is. I'll be there if you need anything," he smiled earnestly, flicking off the light before walking out.

Goodnight, Andy, I almost said, but sleep washed over me quicker than I could form the words.

I woke early, bathed in velvety caramel coloured sunlight, slowly beginning to register where I was. I made my way down to corridor to Andy's room, his bedroom door barely ajar. I put my ear to the door, not wanting to wake him if he were still sleeping. I heard soft pants escaping his lips, letting my curiosity get the best of me.

I gently pushed the door open, revealing the glow of his milky skin in the same light. His beautiful halo of curls sticking to his slightly sweaty forehead, his face contorted in pleasure and concentration as he worked himself beneath the covers. I couldn't suppress the noise of surprise that escaped my lips as he whimpered my name.

"Fuck-" He gasped, pulling his hand from under the cover. "I'm sorry, I-"

"Keep going," I encouraged, slowly making my way to him. Confusion plastered all over his face, he obliged, slipping his hand back under the cover. I sat before him, our eyes locked on one another as he picked up the pace. "Gooood, that's it."

His brows furrowed as he continued to worked himself, his Adam's apple bobbing in his throat with each swallow. I slipped into bed beside him, my hand replacing his. His breathing pattern grew irregular, every vowel of my name dripping off his tongue, igniting a fire deep in my core. I began placing wet kisses along jawline, making my way down to his neck, then his chest, then-

And then I actually woke up, heart beating at a million miles an hour. What. The. Fuck. Shame immediately coursed through my veins, burying my face into my pillow as I replayed the dream over and over until it was committed to memory. Am I an awful person?

I could vaguely hear Andrew singing along to Let's Fall In Love by Ella Fitzgerald in the kitchen, cautiously making my way down the stairs. I was disgusted in myself for even thinking of him in that way, let alone loving every shame filled second of it.

"Mornin'," I made myself known, sliding onto one of the stools at his breakfast bar.

"Good morning," he chirped, sliding a cup of coffee toward me. He had his glasses on this morning, his hair pulled back into a bun. "How're you feelin'?"

"Good," I lied through my teeth, concealing it with an enthusiastic nod. "Better, yeah." I just gave you a handjob in my dream and now I want you to pin me to the couch and make love to me all day. Oh, and I'm supposed to be grieving a near 6 year relationship, but now I'm just really fucking confused. "How are you?"

"Hungry. And I hope you are too," he grinned, revealing a big stack of pancakes he'd just cooked for us, as well as a bowl of chopped strawberries.

"I am, that looks lovely," another lie. I had no appetite. But I also couldn't say no to a man so sickly sweet. He sat beside me, soft jazz serenading us from his record player.

"What've you got on today?" He queried, plopping a pancake onto each of our plates.

"Might visit my ma, update her on... everything, I guess. Then I've gotta get my car. Maybe some clothes. Fuck, I don't even know what to do," I laughed awkwardly, taking a sip of my coffee. "You performing tonight?"

"Hoping to," he nodded, taking a bite of a strawberry. "You know you're more than welcome to spend the night here again."

"I couldn't possibly burden you for another night," I deflected, mirroring his actions and popping a strawberry into my mouth.

"You actually don't have to fight me each time, you cay just say no," he chuckled, shaking his head at me.

"I love spending time with you," I confessed, resting my hand on his arm, then retracting it just as fast. "I just don't want you to think I'm using you."

"Nonsense," he waved me off, scoffing. "It's nice to have some company. Plus, Elwood has taken a strong liking to you."

"The feeling is mutual," I laughed, breaking off a piece of my pancake for the dog happily wagging his tail by my feet. "I'm sure you have lady friends come and visit."

"Only ones who ruin their tea with milk and barely touch their pancakes," he remarked with a wide grin. I felt my cheeks turn hot at his stupid comment, finally digging in to my breakfast.

Maybe things weren't going to be so bad after all.

i don't love this... but this desperately needed an update. feel free to send requests of some stuff you'd like in the next chapter xx

[tiredfox64]

Any chance we could get some of bihan (possibly his brothers as well, if you feel like it) s/o who's very sensitive and not super socially aware embarrassing the shit out of him in public with mushy nicknames and mentioning embarrassing romantic moments and giving him a little kissy in public. And his partners very softhearted and he doesn't want to hurt her feelings by saying anything so he just has to endure it.

A Heart Made of Soft Ice

Yip notes: GUESS WHO FELT GUILTY AND FORCED HERSELF TO FINISH THIS EVEN THO SHE IS BEHIND ON ASSIGNMENTS ALREADY ;-;

Pairing: Bi-Han x Afab reader

Warnings‼️: Too sick to proofread fully, also embarrassment I guess

We all know the saying opposites attract. Have you ever tried to push two magnets together and they keep avoiding each other because they are on the same side and you get really frustrated—why are you crying?

Let’s cut to the chase since tears are falling now. It’s a wonder that you work so well with Bi-Han. Ya know, the grandmaster of the Lin Kuei who wishes to be feared and can’t accept his adoptive brother who has been living with him for many years. Oh yeah, a match made in purgatory.

It’s a relationship that shocks many. A cold-blooded killer with a woman who cries during animal documentaries when the prey gets captured is not the usual pairing. You’re delicate like porcelain while Bi-Han is an actual ice wall. He can’t be nice to Tomas whenever he speaks his mind but the moment you speak about something that bothered you he’ll shut his mouth and listen to what you have to say. He even puts in the effort to do other expressions instead of scowling the whole time because he doesn’t want you to believe he’s mad at you. The best he can give is raising his eyebrows and opening his eyes a little, take it or leave it. He has a resting bitch face.

Many have asked you how you could be with that man. Well, it’s very simple actually. When it comes to you he tries his best to cool off. He could be mad at everyone else for the smallest reasons but the moment he looks at you he uses all his might to calm down. If he doesn’t he knows he will scare you or make you think that he is mad at you for no reason. In all honesty, he can’t afford to lose you. You know how hard it was to make you trust him? It’s like befriending a raven you can’t look at them even when they are eating out the palm of your hand.

But he genuinely needs you. You make him feel balanced. When he’s all cold and stern you soften him up like a candle to a glacier. It’s not much but it’s honest work. It probably saves his ass from making rash decisions as well. Heaven knows he gets himself into too much trouble by himself.

And when he’s in those moments where he’s silent and listening to you speak as he cools off you can do whatever. Shoot, you can call him whatever you want. Possibly something like—

“SNOOKUMS!”

Yeah, that.

Your voice echoes through the halls and into the ears of Lin Kuei warriors. Everyone pauses, processing the word you just yelled out. What’d you say? Snookie? What the hell is a Snookie? Well, you’re Bi-Han’s woman so maybe he knows…probably knows…definitely knows.

It’s the look in his eyes that tells everyone he knows. Wide and blank but his eyebrows are not arched in a confused manner. His arms were folded and his nails dug into his tense muscles. The dots connect with everyone and they slowly start looking at their grandmaster. Another yell emitted and grew louder as you came closer

“SNOOKUMS—Oh there you are!” You replied in a cheery tone. It’s much better than that banshee yell that radiates panic and desperation for your Snookums aka Bi-Han.

You run over to your loving boyfriend with a blanket wrapped around you because it will forever be too cold in Arctika. You hugged him tightly, not paying any mind to his bugged-out eyes. It’s horrifying to see him that way considering he is a man who is 80% of the time narrowing his eyes and 20% staring at others with murderous intent. But this stare is all a big question of what he is supposed to do about you. You already yelled that silly nickname and now you’re hugging him like he isn’t a man that’s supposed to be feared.

Some of the clansmen had the nerve to start snickering a little, finding your display of affection to be ridiculous. It’s even more ridiculous that Bi-Han is allowing this. But their snickering was silenced when Bi-Han slammed his foot on the ground, causing a patch of jagged ice to form and make its way to the clansmen before stopping short. He quickly covered your ears to prevent you from hearing his yell.

“Get back to training! I will not hesitate to dispose of those who are unworthy of taking the Lin Kuei seriously!”

Silence ripped through the room before everyone went back to training. Bi-Han slowly dropped his hands from your ears and you pretended like you didn’t hear his outburst. Blissful ignorance is a wonderful thing. He grabbed your wrist, a little too hard for your liking, and dragged you away till you two were a good distance away from everyone else. He let go of your wrist and took a deep breath in an attempt to calm down.

“Why must you yell that-“ he paused to prevent hurting your feelings by saying the nickname Snookums is stupid, “name when you could have easily kept quiet and looked around the temple.”

His words were not taken in since you were focused on rubbing your wrist. He watched as you looked up at him with wet eyes. Sadness is an understatement, despair and betrayal are the correct terms for how you were feeling. Oh gods, he could kick a kitten in the middle of a blizzard and it wouldn’t even look at him like that.

You felt a ball form in your throat, making it difficult to swallow. Your nostrils flared up and a heavy huff was being produced by you. And then the whining.

“Mmmmmm.”

No…

“Mmmmmmmmm!”

Hold it together…

“Mmmmmmmmmmmmeh heh heh heh!”

Wha-What the fuck—Cartman?

Your whines rose in volume and Bi-Han immediately reacted. He covered your mouth to muffle your sadness and tried to de-escalate the situation before your eyes went puffy from tears. He’s nodding his head no while staring you down. From your position, you believed he was angry at you for crying. You know he could never be mad at you but he is feeling a little panicky as he tried to figure out a way to stop you from crying.

“Shh, shh, stop—I’m not mad at you,” he said in his deep voice which didn’t help convince you that he wasn’t mad. The only way he can truly make you stop is by pulling out the big guns aka giving you a hug. He just needs to look around first to see if the coast is clear.

Bi-Han let out a low groan before wrapping his arms around you and squeezing you. It’s like a weighted blanket was wrapped around you before an anaconda decided to come around and squeeze you till you stopped crying. He managed to calm you down and you returned the hug while still sniffling. The idea that Bi-Han was not mad at you had set in and you finally felt calm. Maybe not Bi-Han, his eyes were shifting all around trying to make sure no one walked in on him being all lovey dovey.

“Can I stay with you while you train everyone?” You asked.

Bi-Han really, really, REALLY wanted to tell you to go back into the bedroom and wait for him to return. But with that tone you asked him in and your already shaken-up emotions, it would be a disaster to tell you not to stay.

“Yes…you may stay, but you need to keep quiet for the sake of everyone. You must not distract anyone as they are training.” He’s just making an excuse but you will listen to him.

“Okay!” You replied in a cheery tone.

You two stopped hugging and returned back to where everyone else was. You clung to your blanket while walking side by side with Bi-Han. Now please oh please do not show your affection for him in front of others. He loves you but he also likes it when others fear him.

══💤══╡°˖✧🦊✧˖°╞══💤══

Well…you kept quiet…still doesn’t mean you weren’t lovey dovey in your own way.

It is pretty cute to see Bi-Han with a blanket wrapped around him while you stand in front of him, holding onto the ends of the blanket to make sure you both stay wrapped. It’s only ruined by the fact that he is staring icy dagger at anyone who even snorts. But you don’t know that. You’re in your own happy world where it’s just you and Bi-Han. And in this happy little world, you’re reminded of all the lovely times you and him were actually alone. Times where you would be cuddling in bed as you told him the most basic things ever such as how you saw a chipmunk that day. Meanwhile, Bi-Han is hugging you from behind as his mind rages on about something that Tomas did that isn’t really something to be mad about. Another happy memory came up but this time you vocalized about it.

“Oh Bibi, when we go back to the bedroom can I play with your hair?” His head snapped to look at you right after you said that.

Deep breath in…deep breath out…deep breath in…don’t yell at your girlfriend breath out…

Nearby you both could hear Tomas whisper to Kuai Liang, “I knew he would let her do that,” which almost sent Bi-Han into a fit. He luckily managed to keep it together while his nails dug into the palm of his hand from how hard he was clenching his fists. He nodded slightly, hoping that if he gave you a yes you wouldn’t say anything else. But guess what, YA DID!

“Yay! I can't wait to brush your hair and use my Cinnamoroll hair claw to put it up. You look so good with it up. Oh, what else should I put in your hair?” You let out a gasp like you just came up with the best idea ever, “What if I put a flower clip near your left ear? That means you can show off that you’re in a relationship with me. I’ll try to find a blue flower for you, Bibi.”

Alright, that’s genuinely a cute image to think of. That doesn’t stop Bi-Han from staring at you and questioning why he needs to use a flower to represent his relationship status. Everyone knows he is dating you, how much evidence does he need? Nobody even feels like what you said was silly. It’s adorable how much you love Bi-Han and want to show that you two are together. Even his brothers are gushing about it.

“Aww…you wish that was you with Harumi, huh?” Tomas whispered to Kuai Liang.

Kuai Liang looked at Tomas like he just lost his damn mind. Let’s just return to the sweet couple that is you and Bi-Han.

Your excitement was rudely interrupted by the sound of someone laughing. It was clearly to laugh at you, not with you. You looked over your shoulder to look at the Lin Kuei warrior who decided to laugh at you.

“What is with you and trying to make our grandmaster seem like a spineless weakling? What’s next? Are you going to put makeup on him to make him look prettier? Paint his nail?”

The more the clansman spoke, the more embarrassed you felt. You had no idea you were making your boyfriend look weak in front of his clan. That was never your intention. You always want to support Bi-Han while also getting the full experience of having a partner who allows you to do anything. You turned to look at Bi-Han again and mouthed an “I’m sorry” to him. That knot came back once again and you felt tears form in your pretty eyes. This hurt worse than when you thought Bi-Han was mad at you. Your lip quivered and you felt that whine rise in your throat before you felt Bi-Han’s lips on your forehead. He gave you a kiss on your forehead that was gentle but lasted for a few good seconds. He then removed the blanket from you two and rewrapped it around you. You had no idea what he was doing but oh it was a surprise for many.

Bi-Han moved in the blink of an eye. One second he was next to you and the next he was in front of the clansman who insulted you, his neck being strangled by your boyfriend’s hand. A path of ice was left behind which explained his quick movement. He then slammed the clansman hard against the ground. The sound of a bone cracking could be heard along with the thudding of the body hitting the ground. No one knew what bone just broke but the clansman sure would know. He was out in an instant. For a second, you believed Bi-Han killed a member of his clan. On closer inspection, you can see their chest rising and lowering slowly. They were luckily still alive though horribly injured.

There was silence before your boyfriend yelled, “Does anyone else wish to question their grandmaster’s authority or my partner’s choices?”

Everyone nodded no. A wise choice.

“Good. Now this will be the last time I tell all of you to get back to training!” Bi-Han yelled before returning to you.

No one bothered to help the other guy he had it coming. Plus, everyone is scared that if they helped him, their grandmaster would go after their throats next. Just work around him.

You wrapped your arms around Bi-Han’s neck and squeezed him close to you, “Bibi, you know you didn’t have to hurt that guy. I could have handled his insults.” No, you couldn’t.

“Aww, but you just love me so much that you want to protect me. You’re like a woolly mammoth. All fuzzy and possibly cuddly but a big, tough guy overall. You’re my woolly mammoth.”

Oh gosh, not the woolly mammoth comparison. Anything but that. He’d take a snow leopard but a woolly mammoth?

You started kissing him wherever you could, mostly on his jawline. He’s secretly ticklish there. He was emitting his low groan the whole time but secretly he liked it. How could he not? No matter what you do, what you call him, what you talk about, he will love you at the end of the day. A real man would endure the embarrassment. Bi-Han sure is a man.

A man who goes by the nicknames of Snookums, Bibi, and now Wooly Mammoth.

And at the end of the day, you finally get to be alone with your man in the bedroom where you would play with his hair. Oh, look, a blue flower hair clip. You know where to put it.

“Is it necessary to place a flower in my hair to represent—AH!” He let out a yelp as you yanked a handful of his hair close to you and put the clip in.

“Absolutely, don’t fight me on this.”

Yeah, Snookums, don’t fight it.

Yap notes: YALL IM SO SORRY FOR BEING OUT! SCHOOL ISN'T BAD BUT IT ISN'T GOOD IVE HAD NO TIME TO WORK ON FICS OR EVEN PERSONAL STORIES YET. ITS WORSE BECAUSE IM WRITING THIS WHILE SICK AND JUST FINISHING MY PERIOD YOU KNOW HOW MUCH IT SUCKS TO BE SICK AND HAVING MY PERIOD. IVE FELT SO GUILTY FOR DAYS I HAD TO PUT OUT SOMETHING ELSE I DIDN'T WANT YALL TO STAVE AND IT WAS REDARA'S ART THAT PUSHED ME TO FINISH SO THANKS RED MUCH LOVE. I HOPE EVERYONE IS DOING OKAY I LOVE YOU ALL THANKS YOU FOR HAVING PATIENCE. OKAY I HAVE TO GO IM LITERALLY SHAKING AS IM DEALING WITH PAIN. ADIÓS!

[captainlexapro]

hang on. I just need to talk about quinn's autograph for a minute because i have so much appreciation for the effort and intention he puts into it. (also i love linguistics/language/writing and how people sign their name is actually very interesting to me)

Been thinking about this (x) article from 2021 (and also very much demko saying "thoughtful" for his one word to describe huggy at the nhl awards this year. demmer u don't understand the implications of what you just said).

teammates chirping quinn for being a slow at signing because it's not a scribble or an unintelligible flourish...but he straight up doesn't give a fuck what they think because HE wants HIS signature to be easily distinguishable for FANS. like the awareness of how special that stuff can be for people. 💙 antoine agreeing that "you should always be able to tell the name without the number." YES!!! YOU GET IT!! (don't get me wrong, there can be iconic autographs that aren't legible whatsoever but idk. to me it's something about how it's a name and i'd like to be able to read it. it's so personal and a scribble doesn't feel personal).

i wanted to see how his signature has changed/progressed over the years, so i dug around a bit to see where he's landed at this point. let's back up to the beginning!

2018 (screenshot from this vid) -

huggy's first official nhl signature!!

his draft day signature shows he's still fully spelling out his first name. it also looks just very. teenage boy who can't do cursive.

BUT the elements are already there - heavy on the Qu, the Hu, (new nickname Q-hoo? like yoohoo? no? fine.) and the s. starting to stylize the gh.

*side notes: Qu is such a rough first letters pairing rip... it's a distinct shape. printing Q doesn't flow easily into the u while cursive Q is ugly (in my opinion) and idk if a lot of people actually know what a true cursive Q looks like (hint: it looks like a 2). also, "quinn" is hard just because it's SEVEN vertical elements back to back. i honestly think doing it in cursive requires more focus than printing. hughes is fun because it has the high and low elements right next to each other, which he emphasizes.*

2019 (nhl debut) -

oh boy. sill very choppy. still have those main elements of emphasis happening.

i feel like he probably hadn't started worrying about his signature yet (this was his first game, to be fair).

not a lot of connectivity (especially in Hughes)

the n has hints of what it will become later, though, which is cool to see!

2021 (from article)-

only writing Quinn now (only one dot for an i). maybe to speed it up, maybe just bc that's the nickname he goes by, maybe both.

seeing the connecting line/stroke between the g and h more prominently

s is looking more stylized as well

i think he's picking up the pen a fair amount still (maybe up to 8 or 9 strokes in this one?). so yeah, i'm sure it took a while compared to others...

2022 (from this silly vid)-

this is kind of not a 'true' signature to me bc 1) given the nature of the video i kind of doubt he would have put 100% effort into it (complete lack of stylized s) and 2) you can tell the surface/pen combo isn't great - see the jaggedness on the gh?

this is the most ~scribbly~ version i saw. like i said, idk if i really count this one but i don't want to dig around forever to find a confirmed 2022 signature

regardless, he seems to have sped it up and is better at the cursiveness aspect. Most of it is connected - i'd guess 5 total strokes for that version.

2023 (from wallpapers on the canucks' insta)-

definitely more committed to a "look"

Qu is kind of aggressive lol and the gh stroke isn't super smooth either. HOWEVER it is 100% a stylistic element he focuses on. also it's fast to connect them, so it probably feels pretty natural. just needed more practice on keeping that stroke aligned.

officially no dotting of the i anymore - just swooping up high (again, probably helps with speed)

we have the fully stylized s! i'm actually very fond of that part because lots of people will let the last letters fall to the wayside and basically just draw a line. he's kinda doing that a smidge with the n. but there's intention on the s and it looks very nice!

2023/2024 (from canucks' wallpapers & inhousemade insta)-

here we have our latest iteration

I reallyyy like the finishing on the n - it matches well with how he does the s, which is so pretty. such a fun letter to write lol

i think the gh line has been fully mastered at this point. and it's a good way to keep his signature legible but still give it a unique flair. not everyone's signature/name has that type of line so ppl can pick his name out rather easy i would guess.

i think huggy's probably settled on autograph style/look at this point. but i will still keep an eye out to see if he decides to try a new element!

thanks for reading and hopefully you found this mildly interesting ☺️

[smeddiemunson]

(part 1 here)

After they narrowly escape being fucked up by what Eddie had planned for them (a goblin ambush they were completely underprepared for), the Hellfire members took their sweet time in clearing up after themselves; an unspoken agreement between the older members to hang around long enough to see just how Eddie behaves around Steve.

Gareth didn’t think Dustin had figured it out. He just connected dots he doesn’t know are on the same playing board, Eddie’s mystery crush and Steve’s favourite song nothing more than a coincidence. Or at least Gareth hoped that’s how it’s playing out, he knew it took a lot, more than his posturing would ever imply, for Eddie to reveal his big secret to the band. He didn’t want Eddie to have to confront that again until he felt ready, even if it is just to some kids.

Jeff was kneeling on the floor, reaching under the table where he pretended to drop a bag of dice when Steve began to make his way down the stairs.

Over his shoulder he called out, “Thank you, Mrs Wheeler!”

Jeff didn’t see the way Eddie perked up just at the sound of his voice, but Gareth and Grant certainly did.

“Are you flirting with Mrs Wheeler again, Stevie?” Eddie teased, ignoring the way Mike retched and groaned about it being gross.

‘Stevie?’ Gareth mouthed to Grant, who just shrugged. Nicknames are a dime a dozen when Eddie decides he likes a person. Gareth had been Gare-Bear for as long as he’d known him, Jeff was Jeffy, and Grant got to be ad-Grant-age. Stevie was a bit different, Stevie was close, affectionate in a way that the nicknames that usually spilled from Eddie’s lips weren’t.

This was maybe worse than they thought.

The last crush Eddie had was there and gone almost in a blink of an eye. Connor from his home room who doodled stick figure drawings of their teachers to pass to Eddie every morning until the jocks got to him and Eddie was cast aside again. But for two precious weeks, Eddie was happy, nice, and didn’t freak when Grant snapped a guitar string that meant they couldn’t practise until he got his hands on a replacement.

This was wholly different. Steve didn’t even bat an eyelash at the affectionate tone, in fact, Gareth thought he saw a faint pinkness colour his cheeks; though he didn’t know if it was just the heat of the basement that did it.

“Convincing her you haven’t yet corrupted her children more like,” Steve laughed.

Jeff, who had now appeared from under the table, made a half aborted motion towards Mike that only Gareth and Grant could see from their side of the table. There was no question that Eddie had sunk his claws into Wheeler and the boy was fully corrupted. If they didn’t know better, they could’ve confused Mike for Eddie’s brother, the resemblance now so uncanny.

Eddie smiled. A real one that took up his whole face and made his eyes sparkle.

Definitely worse than they thought.

Steve turned to the kids. “Henderson, you’re with me. Byers you’re with Eddie. Sinclair, I trust you can walk next door without supervision?” He glanced at his watch while Lucas nodded as if this weren’t the first time he’d been questioned in such a way. “And we’ve got thirty minutes until curfew so get moving.”

The kids, naturally grumbled but they didn’t argue, which was yet another weird thing for the Corroded Coffin boys to experience. Those kids argued with everything.

“Oh hey, Ed, Argyle is getting in late Friday night so pool party at mine on Saturday. You in?” Steve dug his hands into the front pockets of his jeans, trying to act casual, as if he didn’t care about Eddie’s answer. But it was clear as day to Gareth, who didn’t even know him, that Steve really really cared.

Eddie’s face fell. “Sorry, band practice on Saturday. We’ve got a show coming up so…”

Gareth jumped in before he had to watch either of them start crying. “You can go after, Eddie. My mom’ll kill me if we spend all day in the garage anyway.”

Steve’s face lit up like it was Christmas morning.

Now Gareth couldn’t be certain, he wasn’t certain about anything in his life except for his love of Iron Maiden and the reality that he was never leaving Hawkins, but he was fairly sure Steve Harrington might just return Eddie’s feelings.

“Awesome! Hey, you guys should come too! It’s only gonna be a small thing: me, Robin, Nancy, Jonathan and his friend Argyle.”

“Um, thanks, but—“ Jeff cut off in his refusal with a groan as Gareth and Grant not so subtly dug their elbows into his stomach.

They were going to have to spend more time in the orbit of Eddie-and-Steve if Gareth was going to be able to figure out if feelings were a two way street. He wasn’t super excited about the prospect of spending all afternoon playing nice with rich kids, but he’d done worse things for the sake of making Eddie happy. He could do this as well.

“We’d love to!” Grant filled in a little too excitedly. Gareth shot him a look that hopefully conveyed his need to calm down.

“Where do you live?”

Steve smiled. “Teddy knows, he’s been enough times. Oh and you’re welcome to crash after, if you want. There’s enough space.”

“Teddy,” Gareth echoed. They all knew about Eddie’s mom’s nickname for him. Eddie’s dead mom’s nickname for him, and the way he never wanted a reminder.

Steve laughed. “Yeah because he’s just so cuddle-able!”

Eddie, through clenched teeth and a bright red blush, hissed. “Shut up.”

Oh and his eyes pleaded with Gareth to let it go, that they wouldn’t talk about it later.

Clue 5. Eddie was completely aware of how smitten he was.

“We’ll be there, Harrington,” Gareth said, the finality on the matter that Jeff would be arguing with him about later.

Steve smiled so wide it was almost blinding. He left with a squeeze to Eddie’s shoulder, hand lingering longer than necessary, and Dustin moaning about why the kids hadn’t been invited to a pool party.

There were two things Gareth knew for sure. One: Eddie wasn’t just crushing on Steve Harrington, he was well on his way to being in love with him. Two: Steve was either just the chillest guy alive (unlikely) or he returned Eddie’s feelings.

Either way, Gareth had some meddling to do.

(part 3)

[theurgists]

⋆｡‧₊°♱༺ CHERRY FLAVOURED ༻♱༉‧₊˚.

ellie williams x fem!reader

summary: when you and ellie started your situationship, you had one single request; a bag of cherries every time she showed up at your doorstep. unfortunately, you want more than that.

warnings: 18+, smut, angst at the end if you squint, mentions of weed, weed consumption, cunnilingus, kinda sorta dealer!ellie ( not all that relevent to the plot ), ellie's kind of a dick, womanzier!ellie, not proof-read

a/n: a repost because i deleted my old account on a whim ;)

The tips of your fingers were coated in crimson.

 Red and sticky.

 Warm wetness trickling down your palms' creases, spreading sugary stained streaks onto the heat of your velvet skin; something you grew indifferent to. It was always so messy — the plump fruit surrounded by the shelter of your mouth, sweet and addicting every single time. Even with a bad full, they were something you’d savor with every inch of your being, as they were too small to enjoy fully. There would be at least five seconds of flavor before you were left with a bitter taste on the surface of your tongue, a wine-red tint coating the lingual papillae to give you something to remember them by. 

Your constant craving was satiated, alongside the need to see the person that brought them for you every Wednesday without fail. Three sharp knocks on the scuffed steel of your front door were the beginning of five months entwined in your sheets, sinking into the comfort of your mattress. The scent of cherry blossom and freshly washed linen stuck to you as if to taunt you whenever she’d leave in the middle of the night, love bites littered across the expanse of your chest, reaching the insides of your soul.

Just like those fucking cherries you were addicted to — you were addicted to her. 

Ellie. 

The girl stood at a measly five foot three. Kissed from head to toe with freckles that dotted her gentle skin in a multitude of clusters, eyes as green as the moss that’d grow in the crevices of your roof, and a seemingly unbearable attitude to those she rendered unworthy of her time and presence. You, unlike other people, got to experience two of those things from her simultaneously in the form of discarded clothes and rushed greedy touches.

The unwavering connection between you two was there from the moment she laid her irises on you in that hazy, smoke-filled basement last October at Ollie’s. A fat joint laced with bad intentions between the pink, plump flesh of her lips as she weighed the two options that arose. Either she could approach you, ask you for your name, and smooth talk her way into your heart till the pads of her fingers made it past the waistband of your underwear — or  — she could keep still on that withering couch she sat on and smoke her head off.

And it was such an easy choice for her, that she mentally hit herself for even thinking of the latter. 

That one, singular encounter changed the trajectory of her life, as dramatic as it sounded. The reason for that one was fairly simple. 

You tasted too fucking good.

That was the only reason she found herself here. Her head between the fat of your thighs, warm breath hitting your cunt just like the many times before this one, hands squeezing the outside of your skin so hard you were sure they’d be marked for the next few hours. 

“Ellie, c’mon.” You hissed through clenched teeth, jaw grinding in annoyance at the lack of attention you were receiving. She was right there. So fucking close to your core that all she had to do was dart her tongue out and the arousal that coated your slick would pour onto her tastebuds. 

“You keep talking and I swear I’ll fucking leave.” She spat, narrowing her eyes at you, watching as you clicked your tongue on the roof of your mouth. 

Curling your lips into a frown, your elbows dug into the springs as you propped yourself up. “You wouldn’t.”

She rose an eyebrow, the skin of her forehead creasing slightly before she tightened her grip on your thighs, a twinge of interest sparkling in those dark eyes. “But I would.” 

As she lazily drawled out those three words, her right hand snaked its way to your core. Her index finger slid through your folds with ease, a slight buck of your hips stopping them from moving any further. 

You were soaked. It was as obvious as her favoritism toward you. Not just as one of her clients, but as the girl she occasionally fucked with no strings attached from time to time. 

From the low lighting of the lamp on the corner of your nightstand, your slick glistened in the sliver of light that shone behind her head when she lowered it even further. 

“You’re so fucking wet f’me, princess.” 

The guttural whine that left your throat was animalistic. Something that sneakily blended in with the blood in your veins and tainted every healthy cell in your body, starting from the very back of your brain to the tips of your curling toes.

With your hands grasping the light green and pink polka dot sheets that decorated your bed, you took a sudden interest in drawing invisible patterns on the ceiling in your head, shuddering when the muscle of her tongue finally made contact with your clit.

“Oh — fuck!”

Giving you no chance to recover, she continued, flicking her tongue so harshly, that you were positive she’d have lockjaw by the end of the session. 

“Always letting me fuck you so good.” She murmured against you, hollowing out her cheeks as she sucked, taking every last drop of your wetness into her mouth as if she was being deprived of water. 

Wednesday’s were your favorite day of the week thanks to her. It was as if she were an excessive amount of caffeine you desperately wanted as soon as your heavy lids opened. Except, she wasn’t black coffee, albeit the bitterness rooted deep within her. She was the bag of cherries that sat in your refrigerator, rationed throughout the week as a means to keep them longer. 

At first, you thought of it as foolish to share yourself so intimately with someone you barely knew. To poke a finger into your chest and claw the flesh apart with your bare hands, bearing your entire soul. 

She still didn’t know your favorite color. She still didn’t know your favorite book. Hell, she still didn’t even know if you preferred smoking joints or blunts. 

But, what she did know was how to touch you. And that  — that was just fine.

“Oh my god, right there.” You chanted in a hushed whisper, over and over until her hot hands had traveled from your thighs to your hipbones. Thumbs gently tracing circles over the skin there as she devoured you as if she were starved, nose nudging the top of your pussy. 

It was only then that your phone vibrated atop the wood of your nightstand, shaking so violently, that it had shuffled a couple of inches. 

“Ignore it.” 

Ellie's gruff voice came from under you, lips detaching from your cunt to speak, the flesh there glistening with your juices before she dove in once more. 

The buzz that sounded in your ears had dissipated. A small beat of silence took over before it began again. 

With a sigh, you shuffled onto your elbows again, outstretching an arm to grab the device with straight fingers, unsuccessful in your attempt. 

“What if I — shit,” The ridges of her teeth skimmed over your clit, causing your hips to buck into her face involuntarily. Your throat was dry from the deep inhales and exhales during this sexual encounter and she had only just started. 

“What if it’s important?” The question came out of your lips in a breathy sigh, head growing hazy at her touch. 

She hummed, “It can wait.” 

It couldn’t because the moment those words were out in the air, it buzzed again. 

“The fuck…” 

Lifting herself from her position clad in nothing but boy shorts and a thin wife beater, Ellie crawled over you, her weight emitting a groan from the creaks in the springs within the mattress as she pressed her clothed chest flush against yours. 

Without warning, her fingers flexed, snatching your phone from its spot before you the lids of your eyes could open back up again. You watched curiously as her mossy green eyes scanned the text on the screen, rolling them after as she pursed her lips into a thin line. 

“Why’s Ollie calling you?” The question held a small hint of suspicion, and that was something you heard clearly despite her effort to hide it.

You were just fuck buddies. Nothing more than that. So why did your heart jump within your chest as if it were going to escape your body at any second?

Shaking your head from side to side, you tilted your chin at her, shrugging your shoulders nonchalantly. “I dunno…” 

“I’m gonna call back.” She stated, making her way to your contacts and scrolling through the alphabetical format, pressing on his name with a thumb. 

Outstretching your arms, you huffed, exhaling dramatically as you gently shoved her off of you. Sitting up, you leaned against the bedframe, knees tucked close to your bare chest, goosebumps forming at the sudden cold rush of air that weaved its way around your frame. 

The low hum became louder as Ellie held out your phone between the both of you, tight grip never faltering as she narrowed her eyes at the screen. She was staring at it harshly, her gaze practically burning holes into the device as it rang once, then twice before a ‘finally’ sounded in your ears.

“Fucking finally, where the fuck is Ellie?”

Snorting, you rolled your eyes. “Well hello to you too Ollie.” 

“Yeah, yeah, hey. Where’s Ellie?” 

“What makes you think I'm with her?”

“Because her location is pinpointed to your house. Am I on speaker?” 

Licking your lips as a means to moisturize them, you cocked your neck to the side, raising a brow at Ellie who sighed. “Yeah, you are. What’s up?”

Crackling static could be heard on the other end of the line, followed by shuffling and a female voice that sounded all too familiar to you. 

“Uh, I kinda need to buy off of you again.” 

Ellie looked around your room for a while, taking in the different array of patterns that decorated each article of furniture that gave away a whole lot more than your personality. For a second, Ollie’s talking seemed to grow muffled, as she marked every place in that small space that she fucked you on. 

It was something that had etched itself in the inner corners of her mind as she struggled to come to terms with what exactly she felt every time she got down on her knees. For you. 

Every. Single. Time. 

Sometimes, she’d lay awake at night, curled up under the sheets, wearing exactly what she is right now  — sitting here with you. Being intimate  — with you. Sure, she sold her weed and made her money, accompanied by a stone-faced facade, but handing drugs to girls who’d let their hands linger a little too long on her skin, always sent her back to you at the end of the night with a plastic Tupperware container filled halfway with those cherries only sold downtown.

Clearing the rising lump in her throat, the auburn-haired girl tugged her bottom lip between her teeth soon after. “Sure. Do you need me right now?”

Ollie laughed humorously as if Ellie had said one of the funniest things in the world, and you had assumed it directly wasn’t aimed toward her due to the high-pitched yell. “If that’s cool with you.”

Observing as Ellie lifted herself from her position next to you, your eyes followed as she leaned down at the end of the bed to tug on the jeans she had previously discarded in the heated haze of your earlier makeout session. 

Tossing the phone on the bed, Ellie focused her attention on buttoning her jeans, the worn band tee she showed up in following immediately after. 

“C’mon.” 

A puzzled look painted your features, the corners of your eyes creasing as you narrowed your eyes at her figure near the door. 

“I’m not going to Ollie’s alone. His girlfriend’s weird.”

You grimaced. 

“Are you seriously dragging me with you?”

━━━━ ◦: ✧✲✧ :◦━━━━

Ollie’s girlfriend, Penelope, wasn’t all sunshine and rainbows as he made her seem. It was something that should’ve been obvious to you from the beginning due to how highly he talked about her, albeit being dramatic at the same time. But since he was sort of a friend, you wanted to give him the benefit of the doubt. The first time you met her, the brunette immediately started talking your ear off about how the color of your shirt wasn’t really appealing to the eyes, index finger twirling a strand of her hair as she tried to make up for the comment with back-handed compliments. 

She was something… and that was to put it in the nicest way you could, cementing it into your brain that she just didn’t like you.

Internally, you were cursing Ollie out. Externally, you held it together better than you thought you would as she ranted to you about one of her many friends with a lit joint in hand, waving it back and forth. 

You were sat directly across from her, muscles tense and spine rigid on an ottoman, one leg crossed over the other, lips pulled back into a small snarl that she hadn’t noticed. The cool outside air did little to relax your body as the unease that overtook you moments ago, seemed to spread quicker than you thought it would.

“ — I told her that she shorted me like twelve dollars. I mean I was valid in that, right? The tag was missing off the skirt.” Extending her arm out to you, she wiggled the blunt between two fingers for you to take, which you did a little too enthusiastically.

Putting it between your lips, you inhaled, closing your eyes for a second as the smoke wafted into your line of vision. Nodding, you decided to play along with her, not in the mood to piss her off just yet. “That’s understandable. I wouldn’t wanna pay the full price either.”

Peeling your gaze away from Penelope, you watched as the smoke you exhaled swirled in different directions, lifting into the multi-colored sky. You needed this.

“I knew I liked you. But, you don’t have to lie to me y’know, I was just fucking with you about the skirt thing. I would never buy a skirt without a tag.” 

Feeling warmth rise under the flesh that covered the apples of your cheeks, you shook your leg, scanning the patio deck for any sign of Ellie who had disappeared inside the house with Ollie for what seemed like too long. 

Penelope leaned back in her seat, cautiously letting her brown eyes roam down your stiff body, narrowing them after. “So, like are you and Ellie a thing?” 

Taking another drag, you held it out for her to take, eying her from your peripheral inconspicuously the moment she took her eyes off of you. “No.” 

The answer that was processed in her mind was short, and in response, she clicked her tongue on the roof of her smoke-filled mouth. She was unsatisfied with your answer. “You gotta give me more than that.” 

Her voice went an octave lower as she leaned toward you, ready for you to spill all of your darkest secrets to her. “There’s nothing else to give.” You spat, eliciting a hum from her. 

“I don’t think that’s it. Ollie tells me that you two just fuck.”

Furrowing your brows, you let genuine confusion write itself on your features as you crossed your arms, curling into yourself the more she spoke. 

It was then that she sighed, taking another hit before extending it out to you. “Listen, I didn’t mean to say it like that… it’s just the way she talks about you is just…”

A twinge of curiosity sparked within you as she searched the jumbling words in her brain, sorting them in a way to soften the upcoming blow. “... it rubs me the wrong way like you’re just there to convenience her or some shit.”

“What?”

The air was knocked out of your lungs, and hairs on your arms raised, creating an itch all over that you wanted to scratch more than anything.

“Listen, I know you don’t think I don’t like you.”

“I-”

“You deserve something better than just sneaking around with someone like her. Her history with other women is fucked up, girl. Be careful.” 

With that, she directed her attention toward the patio door, watching as it slid open. 

Someone like her. What the fuck was that supposed to mean?

Those words were all that hit you when Ellie rubbed your left shoulder, telling you that it was time to go. They consumed you when you had buckled yourself up in the passenger seat of her car. They ate you when the tears in your eyes started to burn as you leaned your forehead against the window. 

The drive was a little too quiet, and Ellie had been slyly giving you little looks throughout the trip, internally arguing with herself to ask about your sudden change of mood. 

“What’s w —”

“Am I just someone you like to fuck every week?” 

The question had caught her so off guard that her foot had nearly lifted off the gas and slammed on the break as she swerved slightly. Twisting her neck in your direction, she let her eyebrows furrow together. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

Closing your eyes, you swiped at a fallen tear swiftly with the back of your hand, wiping it on the denim of your jeans after. “Now that I actually fucking think about it, we don’t do anything other than screw each other.” 

It was something you had meant to say to yourself, rather than aloud, but on the quietness of the car — even under the low hum of the music playing from the car radio, she heard every single word.

“Where’s this coming from?”

Shrugging your shoulders, you kept your head forward, noting the street you were on when she had turned into a familiar neighborhood about three minutes away from your destination.

“I’m just saying.”

Ellie scoffed, not believing a single word that bitterly came out of your mouth. “Yeah, okay.” You didn’t even have to look at her to know she was rolling her eyes as far back as they could go as she pulled into your driveway. “What’d she say to you.”

Fuck. 

“She didn’t say anything.” You insisted, moving to tug the door handle open. Right before you could, she pressed down on the lock button, trapping you inside the car with her. 

“I know she said something to you. You were all smiley when we got there, now you’re crying.” Pressing the matter even further, she twisted her body as much as the driver's side allowed, giving you all her undivided attention. 

Still refusing to look at her, you breathed in through your nose. “Ellie, I want you to be serious with me for a minute, please. All we do is hook up with each other. That’s not something that I find myself needing anymore now that I'm actually putting my brain to use.”

Your eyes darted across her face, watching when her hand came up to pinch the bridge of her nose — something she did while irritated. You wanted her to be truthful, and it was something she had a slight problem with as she sat there, a knot of unease developing within her empty stomach so tightly, that her body grew numb. “You’re making it more complicated than it has to be. I thought we made shit clear from the beginning that this was all it ever was gonna be.”

You scoffed, grinding your teeth together as the pressure behind your eyes burned once more. You shouldn’t have said anything. You shouldn’t have said a fucking word.

From the minute she approached you with that fucking toothy grin on her lips — you shouldn’t have said a word because look at you now. 

Crying for someone who clearly doesn’t want you back.

“I just took it too far.”

[sallage]

Apologize

One Shots

Warning: This is an (intense?) tickle fic!

Summary: Kidnapped for ransom, Bakugo's captor desired a peaceful coexistence, but his own temper led to a loss of leniency, making his captivity… less tolerable.

Pairing: Lee Bakugo, Ler ? (OC)

Words: 2,989

Reading Time: 12 Minutes

A/N: I wrote this yesterday at 1 am so it might be whack but I was totally inspired by @wreckingtickles most recent fic, Say The Line, Bakugo! Hehehe Enjoy!

Read more ∘₊✧ Here ✧₊∘

“Fuck you, FUCK you, FUHUCK YOUUUU!” 

Spittle sprang from Bakugo’s mouth as one set of hands dug into the bottom of his stomach, right above the waistline of his shorts while a pair of writhing tendrils squirmed over the upper part, occasionally dipping teasingly over his quivering flanks. 

The tendrils seemed to have been shape-shifted hands, as they were connected to a pair of normal looking wrists, but he currently didn’t have the ability to make sense of it.

He glowered down at his powerful body with spiteful eyes as hands and tendrils pulled undignified sounds from his throat. 

His body was pulled taught in an X position on an oversized metal table with holes spaced a few inches apart, dotting either side of his limbs and outlining the length of his body. 

His hands were forced open, fingers trapped under custom made pieces of metal that curved around them like rings, preventing him from closing them into fists. 

A straight and horizontal pole jutted outwards from the holes placed along the edges of the table, parallel to his knees. It had the appearance of a slender clothing rack or rod, featuring a long indent running across the bottom and stretching over the entire length of the table. The pole stood a few feet above the flat surface, its purpose stumping the hysterical blonde.

His feet were bare with long soft strings woven around each of his toes which were attached to a strange, cog like machine that rested on a custom made shelf welded onto the table. Two machines were placed a few inches above both of his ankles.

He pushed his head back, and attempted to shift his body from side to side, despite how useless it was with how tightly he was restrained. 

A voice echoed throughout the large, presumably empty room.

“Are you gonna be nice to me now?” 

Bakugo writhed and growled, the pair of hands steadily squeezed and fluttered their nails all along his lower stomach, scratching at the sensitive spots above his hips and using all four nails to hold, scratch, and undulate across his sides.

“Count your fffffucking days, you dumbass! You’re gonna rr-regret this!”

Bakugo had woken up in the dark, unable to move and quizzically, unable to use his quirk. Before he could muster enough cognitive function to form a coherent thought, light dimly brightened his form, leaving the rest of the room shroud in darkness.

A voice informed him that he’d been kidnapped but no harm was to be inflicted. They both would wait patiently for the ransom money to arrive, then Bakugo would be released shortly after the person behind the voice was granted a generous head start.

Bakugo, of course, couldn’t just lay there without initiating some sort of provocation. 

As a result, he’d bite his bottom lip so hard it could split when random hands and tendrils shot out of holes on either side of his torso, automatically working his sides and belly. 

He shifted a few centimeters to the right when the hand on his left used their nails make infuriatingly ticklish grabbing motions at his flank, then shifted back to the left when nails on his right lazily did the same, trapping him in a weird interpretation of horizontal salsa. 

Tendrils writhed along the upper part of his stomach, each individual one spreading out to tease, pinch or wriggle against the heated skin, his black tee stripped before he’d woken up.

Bakugo exhaled loudly through his teeth, spit flying from his mouth. 

“An answer would be great!”

“Shut UPP!” He demanded, yelping not even a second later as both hands pinched the skin above his hips. 

“Yeeeesh, I’ll take that as a no.”

Bakugo sucked in a large breath when hands poked out of every other hole, staggering themselves along either side of his arms. 

A pair of hands were stationed at his hands, another by his forearms, another at his elbows, and another at his biceps. Each hand was holding a stiff feather, hovering threateningly.

Bakugo chuckled, more out of arrogance than from the ministrations of his tormentors. 

“You think fucking feathers are going to do shit to me, motherfucker?”

There was no response except for the hands, who used their fingers to maneuver the feathers, brandishing the quill instead.

Before Bakugo could release another string of obscenities, all of them started lightly scribbling, dragging, and swirling the quills all along the length of his arms. 

Bakugo spluttered, a strangled noise forced out of his throat. 

The points at his hands traced across the stretch of his fingers, taking turns scraping at each individual one while the other traced the creased lines of his palms. 

He tried desperately to use his quirk, but he couldn’t ignite a single spark.

Quills squiggled down the hardness of his forearms, drawing light cursive shapes up to his wrists, then softly and maddeningly drag them back down in tight zig zag motions.

The ones at his elbows attacked the sensitive inner part, while also branching out and swirling around to outline the skin above and below. 

And finally, quills traced and outlined the contours of the twitching muscles that made up his biceps. They teased all over the flexing muscles, lingering over the sensitive skin just above his armpits and using repetitive motions to outline the top rim.

Bakugo’s struggling increased, as did the volume of his instigations. He hatefully glared at the hands as they found sensitive spots all along his arms.

“How about neeeoooooww?” A pause. “You gonna be nice to me now?” 

Bakugo shook his head. “You- y- Geh!” He flinched and jolted, grinding his teeth in frustration, unable to even curl his hands into fists to expel some of the ticklish energy. 

“Geh- get these damned things- aH-ooffah me!” 

The quills posted at his biceps and hands were causing unexpected problems. They lightly teased at the skin above his pits, only occasionally lifting away to prevent desensitization. Every time they came back, he jumped and bit the inside of his cheek. 

The ones at his palms weren't any better. He couldn’t believe how the sharp scrapes and flicks made him writhe in mirthful frustration as they followed the creases that fanned out across the top, center and bottom of his palms. 

His scrunched face bore the resemblance of someone who’d stepped on a Lego after they’ve already stubbed their toe.

“What’s the magic wooooord?”

“J-jump ahahaff a fuckin’ bridge!” Bakugo spat, angry and strained veins visible and pulsing along his neck. 

“That was definitely more than one word. And none of them were magic.”

Startlingly, two grey medium sized balls resting on a short and skinny flexible rod popped out of the holes on either side of his neck, the hole being perfectly fitted by their circular base.

Bakugo jolted and pushed his face to the side, watching as the ball slowly spun around, revealing only one thing on its glossy surface.

A realistic looking mouth with a tongue lolling out of it like a dog.

“W-Whuh-” 

He was cut off when, like a bendable lamp, they craned down on either side and began kissing, licking, and nibbling along the sensitive skin. 

One nibbled a ticklish path up from the base of his neck, under his jaw, and just below his ear, while the other nipped and licked up and down his collar bones and the base of his neck.

They each attacked their respective spots, punching an embarrassing high pitched squeak out of Bakugo. He writhed and tried to shrink and scrunch his neck, but only managed to push the side of his face to his shoulder, which consequently left the other side open to a more precise attack.

“NeeyaHAHAhaha WHAhahat theha- NahaAHAHahah! f-fucking grohohoss! STAHahahahap!”

Bakugo was caught in ticklish limbo. He jerked his head from side to side, the action yielding not one second of relief. 

“Well, you told me to jump off a bridge! What else was I supposed to do?”

“Juhuhump AHAhahaff it!” Bakugo spasmed and pushed his hips the few centimeters that were allotted off the table, trying to get away from the prodding hands that tore his attention away when they veered off course and pinched his hips. He jolted with yell when tendrils squirmed and drew small, probing circles over the bottom of his ribs.

“That’s pretty bad advice. If I jumped off a bridge, then who would press this button?” 

Two claws erupted from the holes at the edges of the table, smoothly gliding up the metal pole. The indent allowed them to move effortlessly along the length, mimicking the motion of a makeshift claw machine. 

As they reached the position above his legs, the claws wavered momentarily before awkwardly attempting to pivot their five, hand-like pincers over his knees.

Bakugo's curses echoed loudly throughout the room as the claws painstakingly adjusted themselves, each movement slow and methodical, akin to an arcader angling a claw machine over a coveted prize, before slowly descending. 

Despite Bakugo's efforts to avoid the inevitable, his squirms and wiggles proved futile. With a final touch, they gently landed on his bare knees, their up and down jellyfish-like movements sending a wave of ticklish spasms through his legs.

Bakugo would have done a spit take if he was drinking… Well, anything.

“PPFFFTNhahahHAHA! oOOooh fahahk! AGHH Waah- NOHOHOHO!” That last "no" was punctuated with a guttural growl as the assault to his knees worsened, the claws now spinning and scratching over his convulsing skin. 

He was having so much trouble keeping it together, and none of these spots were overly ticklish in the first place.

Individually, at least.

“Y’know, I was okay with enjoying a quiet night while we waited for the pros to wire the money, Maybe share a laugh or two, but you couldn't go a single dang minute without insulting me.” 

The voice paused. The only sounds echoing in the room were of Bakugo’s struggles, restrained giggles, grunts, and huffs.

“Okay, I’ll make you a deal. If you apologize, I’ll pull everything. sound good?”

Bakugo shook his head, mostly out of mirth and perseverance as the mouths relentlessly attacked any open spot they could find.

 “Ihihih- AGHH! Ihihihm not ApohohoHAHAhlogizing to you, fuhcker! Eat shihihit!” 

A sigh of faux disappointment. 

“Alrighty then.” 

Two hands shot out of the holes on either side of Bakugo’s hips. His eyes widened.

“No! dohohnt you fuckin’- NOHOHOH, YOU FREHEHEAK!” 

Two hands, armed with massager guns, ran the vibrating, punching tips all over Bakugo’s pelvis.

They pressed the tools onto his hip bones and rounded to the sensitive spaces on top and underneath, even expanding to the quaking skin below his belly button and back again.

“OHO FUCK! SHIHIHIT! SHIT! STAHAHAP! HAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHA!”

“Apoooologize.”

“NOHOHOHOHO!”

"Okie."

Hands shot out of every hole along his thighs.

They bent and and squeezed along the pressure points above his knees, scribbled over the lower inner muscles, scritched all along the middle, moved up to tease the skin along the legs of his shorts, and pressed their fingers and thumbs into the tendons of his upper inner thighs. 

Despite the threat to his neck, Bakugo threw his head back, guffaws pumping out of him like an out of control fire hose.

“FFFFFAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAK! WHAHAHA! OH SHIHIHIHIT! STAHAHAHAP! AAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHA! HAHAHA!”

“A! - P O L O! - G I! - Z E!”

The voice spelled out the word in a cheerleader chant, sounding like they were busting a move with each letter.

“FAHAHAHAK YOU!” Bakugo screamed, face cracked in half with ticklish glee.

“Woooooooooow, you’re a glutton for punishment, arent you? Dont worry, buddy, I got you.” 

Two hands shot up from the holes, one over each of his armpits. 

Bakugo blanched.

“NUH- NOHOHO! FUCK NO! DOHOHONT YOU FUCKIN’ DAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! NOHOHOHOHO NONONONO!AHAHAHAHAHAH! WAAHAHAHAHA! STAHAHAHP! STOP STAHAP STAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAAP!” 

Bakugo absolutely lost it when the hands descended, pressing portable electric back massagers with rotating bristled feet against the center of his armpits, furthering the overwhelming sensations by rotating them slowly over the expanse of his slick, sweating hollows.

“GAHAHAHAHAHAD! AHAHAH! STOOOOOOP! STAHAHAHAHAP, YOU FUCKING BAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAH!”

Bakugo thrashed against the restraints. His knees twitched, his hips bounced and his head whipped from side to side, up and down, spraying small droplets of useless sweat. 

“STAHAHAHHAP! GEHEHET THEM OFF! GEHEHET THEM- AHH! WHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHA! HAHAHOW MANY OF YOU FUHUHHUKERS ARE DOWN THEHEHEHERE?!” 

“You’re truly doing this to yourself, man.” 

Bakugo was too hysterical to pay attention to whatever nonsense they were spewing, his mind hell bent on getting the tickling to stop.

“YOU MOHTHERFUHCKER! STAHAHAHAHAHAP! ILLKILLYOU! ILL FAHAHAHAKING DRAG YOU OUT OF- AAAAH! NOOOOHOHOHOHOHO!” 

“Now you’re just being impossible.” 

“WHAHAHAHAHA WHAHA- WHOA WAIT! WAHAHAIT WAITWAITNOWAIT!” 

Bakugo helplessly thrashed as hands shot out of the holes on either sides of his ribs. 

A wide array of probes varying in length and size stuck out from a mechanical saucer like disc, attached on a rotatable silver ball on a short metal handle. The hands positioned the disk so the probes hovered menacingly over his ribs. 

To his absolute horror, the hands pressed a button on the side of the handle, and the probes whirled to life. Circling, jabbing, and wiggling in all different directions. The whole thing looking like some whack, tortuous hair diffuser.

“Aaaaaand~”

“NOHOHOHOHO! FUCK YOU! DONT! DOHONT YOU FAHAHAHKIN- WAIT! WAITWAITWAIT-"

The hands pressed the evil diffusers onto Bakugo’s ribs, the mechanical terrors covering most of the tortured blonde’s ribcage. 

“Touchdoooooown!” 

Bakugo threw his head back and arched his spine, a high pitched scream ripping out of his throat before the intensity turned it silent. 

“WHOAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHA————————————-————————————————!” 

His voice gave way to raspy desperation as he ran low on air, but had more than enough laughter to give. 

With a resentful scowl, Bakugo watched as chaos gripped his body, tormenting him with unforgivable precision.

He let out a frustrated, gravely scream and tossed his head back once more when the hands started moving the mechanical diffuser over the entirety of his reddening ribcage. 

He felt the little probes dig, wiggle, rotate and goose his skin, the sensation like a million marching ants frantically scattering all over him.

They moved again, settling at the top of his ribs. They pressed the saucer down so the protruding rim was flush against him. The moving probes sunk into his skin, torturing the nerves from top to bottom and between the bones.

“NAAAAAAAAAAAHAHAHAHHAHA! OKAYSTOP! OKAYOKAYOKAYOKAYYYYHAYHAYHAAAYYYSTOOP! STOPSTOPSTAAAAAAAAHAAAAHHAP! HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH! I'M SHAHAHHARY! I'MFUCKINGSORRY! JUHUHUST- PFFFTTT! STAHAHAHAP! GEHEHAHAHAHA AHAHAHFF HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA GEHEHEHEHEHEH IHIHIT- AAHH————————————————————————————————-“

“Hmmm, I dunno. You’ve been really mean to me since you woke up. For like, no reason.”

“WAHAHAHHAHAHAHAT?! FAHAHAH- I FAHAHAHHAAKIN SAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH———————- I SAIHIHIHAHAHAHAHHAH—————ISAIDIWASSAHHRY!”

“Yeah sure, but you really hurt my feelings. I might need some time to really think about it.” 

“OHOHOH MAAHAHAGAHAHAHD!! SHIT SHIT SHHIHIHIT! AAAAHHHH! NAAAHH FAHAHAHK YOU! YOUFUCKINGPIECEOFSHIT! ILLFUCKINGMURDER- NOOOHOHOHOOOOOO! FUCKYOUFUCKYOUFUCKYOUUHUHUHU! STAHAHAHAP THIHIHIS! GAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA————HAAAAAHHHHHAHAHAHAHAHA!” 

“See, why would you say all that when I’m trying to forgive you?” A loud sigh. “I guess you’ll just have to lay there and think about why that wasn't a good idea.” 

Two pairs of hands shot out from the holes on either side of his feet. 

Through his uncontrollable tears, he saw his life flash before his eyes.

“NO! NOHOHOHOHO WAAHAHAHIT! I'MSORRY! IM FUCKING SAHAHAHAHRY! PLEHEHEHESE! PLEASE DOHOHOHONT! DOHOHOOOOOOOONT!” 

Two hands on either side held oval shaped wet-hair detangling bushes while the others were adorned with grooming gloves.

He expected them to attack, but was caught off guard when the mechanical cog devices over his ankles whirled to life. He could only shake his head as the string looped around his toes went minimally slack, only for all of them to start threading through his toes.

“WAHAHAHAHAHA! OOOOOHOHOHOH FFFFFUUUUUUUUUUUUCK!! HOLYSHIT! FAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHA————-HAHAK! PLEASE! PLEHHEEEE———"

“Don’t worry, I’ll try you again in an hour or so. Then we can revisit your attitude problem. Ciao!”

“WHAHIT! WHAITWAITPLEASEDONT-”

The hands struck.

The grooming glove scrubbed and waved vigorously at the top of his foot, scrubbing and scratching at the sensitive balls and undersides of his toes. The wet hair brush took care of the rest, brushing wildly against the arches, heals and the sides of his feet. The other foot wasnt better off, dealing with the same ministrations but in opposite positions. 

At some point, a hand popped up behind his head, equipped with a flexible metal pronged head massager that to the blonde’s utter bewilderment, tickled like hell and sent goosebumps roaring all along his skin.

Pushing his head up only maneuvered the massager to slink its torturous prongs down the back of his neck, up the back of his head, and behind his ears. Which was arguably, so much worse. 

So he forced his head down, in control of it for about two seconds before he lifted it up again in mirth, the sloppy kisses, licks and nibbles from the mouths never ceasing their unrelenting attack.

Amongst all the calamity, he jumped out of his skin when he felt hands tracing and scratching up and down his spine and along the outer edges of his lower back. His eyes widened in painful disbelief as he realized there were holes underneath the ungodly table.

His back, sides, and hamstrings were targeted from below, successfully clouding his comprehension of reality.

All he could do was take it,

“WHOOAAAHOHOHOHOMYFUCKING GAHAHAHAHAHAHAHD! PLEASE! PLEASEPLEASEPLEASEMAHAHAHAHAKE IT STAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAP! MAKETHEM STAHAHAHAHAHAHP IMFUCKING SAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHARRY! IMSOFAHAHAKINGSORRY!"

And laugh,

“PPFFFTTNAAHAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA—————————-ICANTFUCKINGDOTHIS! OHMYGAD I CHAHAHAHNT! ICANT! OHOHOHOHOOO, I CAHAAAAAAHAHAHAHHAHAHA--------!"

And laugh,

“HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHA! WHOOAAAHAHAHAHAHA! KAHAHAHAH! WAAAHAHAHAH! PLEEEHEHE—————HEHEHEHEHEHE———————HEHHESE! AHAHAHA——————! FAAAAAA———————HAHAHAHAHAAAAAAAAAAAAHH!” 

And laugh.

"H-----------HAH---------------! AAHHH-------------------HAHAHAHAHHAA! FAHA---------------------! PLE--- PLEHE------------------!"

Bakugo’s mind rolled. His red, raw, and sweaty body buzzed with electricity as the tools glided across his abused skin with ease. 

He wailed and apologized, cursed and thrashed, but none of it was enough. 

More often than not, his laughter turned silent, reminding him that he would continue to lie there, forced to take it for the next hour, completely at the mercy of his own damn sensitivity.

[ashwhowrites]

Eddie Munson x cheerleader! Reader, what if Eddie starts receiving some secret admirer letters that don't have any signature on them, only some red lipstick kiss on it and he's curious about who can that be, only when he's on a deal with Cheerleader! Reader, that she's starts to apply some red lipstick on that he connects the dots and he just jumps in excitement saying IT'S YOU! and reader is like Idk what are you talking about (just pretending not to know) but then when Eddie sits again she just starts to talk again and she gest closer to him and then kisses him?

-🩷

Thank you for requesting! I hope this is what you wanted and you enjoy it <3

Red lipstick

Eddie Munson wasn't a guy that girls fawned over. He wasn't a guy girls chase around and try to win over. More like, they ran from him. If he ever had a crush, it was nearly impossible it would be responded to nicely.

He also wasn't friends with girls. He barely talked to any, unless it was on a deal. So imagine the confusion he had when he randomly started to receive little notes. Almost like a secret admirer note. The notes didn't say much, a few words that complimented him in some way. Some talked about his clothes, hair, rings, smile, or his laugh. Which meant this person constantly saw him and was close enough to notice small details.

He had a good feeling it was his friends playing a joke, but he wasn't sure if they'd be that mean. He had a feeling it was a girl based on the neat handwriting, oh! And the fact that every note had a lipstick kiss on it. A deep red, a red that would stain lips. He had to admit, he weirdly stared at his friend's lips lately, trying to see if any smudge of red was still there.

He always received them at the end of each day, in his locker. Well, he assumed, when the notes first started he never went to his locker. One day he needed a random book and tons of notes scattered on the floor by his boots. The excitement of reading the notes brought him back to check his locker every single day. And whenever he checked, there it was. Folded neatly, his name was written on the top with the red kiss mark.

He had no idea who it could be. He didn't talk to any girl one on one unless it was during a deal. And the girls he met with were cheerleaders....no way in hell would a cheerleader be into him.

~~~

Eddie kept the collection of notes in his backpack, not like anything else was in there.

His friends teased him about it all the time. To a point, he believes they aren't part of it.

"Miss lover girl write another one? "

"I bet you kiss the notes at night."

"does it smell like perfume?"

"Are we sure it's not Jason in drag?"

But right now he had to put the mystery aside and work on a deal.

He hummed a song as he sat on the bench, waiting patiently for his next customer. With the extra time, he dug into a few of the notes, his head pounding as he tried to figure out who the hell it was. It's been weeks and weeks. And he still came up with nothing.

"Whatcha got there?" A voice came from behind him. He jumped and quickly hid the notes. He zipped up his backpack as Y/N walked around the table and sat down.

"Nothing!" He squeaked out. She eyed him carefully but moved on. Her movements seemed a little nervous.

He did the deal as usual, but with Y/N they tend to talk about random shit to pass the time. The weed was placed in her backpack, but yet they talked for over an hour.

Her lips were over her water bottle as she sipped the rest of it. She groaned as she noticed there wasn't a lipstick mark, knowing her lips must have been uncoated for a while.

She dug into her backpack, scratching for the small black tube. She smiled once she grabbed it. She grabbed her small compact mirror and opened it.

Eddie watched mindlessly, letting her do her thing as he took in her features. He knew she was beautiful and he knew that she knew it too. The way her lips puckered out as she applied the red stick to her lips. WAIT! RED!

Eddie snatched the lipstick from her hand.

"Eddie what the fuck!"

He ignored her, he smeared the stick against his wrist, the red soaking his skin. The color was familiar and the texture of it was the same.

He smiled excitedly, he figured it out.

He couldn't handle his outburst. He jumped from his seat, disbelief on his face.

"ITS YOU!" He couldn't believe it. A cheerleader, no! Y/N! was writing him love notes.

"Huh?"

"THE NOTES!"

Y/N felt her face heat up, but denied.

"I have no idea what you're talking about!" She snatched back her lipstick. She quickly threw it in her backpack but Eddie already had the stain on his skin.

He dug out the notes, flipping one over. The blank side faced him as he slid it over to her.

"Kiss it." He said he didn't care how crazy he sounded. This has been driving him crazy for weeks.

"I'm not kissing a piece of paper." She argued

"Just DO IT!"

She slouched and grabbed the paper. Embarrassed she pressed her lips against the paper. Something she's done countless times, but now in front of him feels so stupid. Why did she think this was a good idea?

Eddie sat down, more calm as he grabbed the paper and matched it with the others.

"It's you."

"Yeah! You've said that!" Y/N snapped. She was panicking. He hasn't said anything but "it's you!" Over and over. Was he happy it was her? Mad? Disappointed? She couldn't tell and it was making her nervous.

"But why?" He asked. The confusion was clear on his face.

"What do you mean why? Why do people send love notes, Munson." She said in a duh tone. She didn't like being played with.

"Well if you like someone! But that's not the case here, so why?" Now that he knew who it was, he couldn't help but feel stung. It was a cheerleader, and he stands by no cheerleader liking him. It must have been a joke with the team or a joke with Jason.

He was hurt by it. He thought they had a small friendship. He liked talking to her and it seemed like she enjoyed being around him too. She didn't run away after the deal, she didn't look over her shoulder in a panic if anyone saw.

Y/N sighed and decided to make another move. She got up and moved to sit next to him. She was nervous, but he probably was even worse.

"I do like you." She admitted quietly, she wasn't sure if he heard it. She barely heard it herself.

"We talk every week...why did you never say anything?" He asked

"I was scared!" She laughed, "I didn't want you to laugh in my face. I know you hate the popular kids and you hate my friends. I was scared you hated me too."

He moved his hand down to his lap, her hand inches away on the bench. He took a deep breath and slowly slid his hand over. His pinky hits hers.

"I like you too. I mean it's hard for me to believe you do like me and this isn't a prank. But I also feel like that's not something you'd do." He explained. "I'm really happy it was you."

He could feel her body perch up, a big smile on her face as she turned her head to look at him.

"Really? Happy?" She asked, he turned his head to match her.

"Mhhm! I always thought you were beautiful. But I don't recall you ever wearing red lipstick on our deals so I didn't exactly expect it to be you."

"I didn't. I barely wear it, only when I usually do the notes. But I guess I was hoping if I slipped up, you'd notice." She admitted

They sat in silence for a moment, just looking at each other. That's when she noticed how close they were. His pinky was still against hers, their shoulders practically touching.

"Can I kiss you, Eddie Munson?" She asked, her heart pounding.

Eddie has never heard those words in his life. He had a first kiss, but it was on a dare and the girl ran away after. He still remembers how sad he was. But now he had a gorgeous girl wanting to kiss him.

"Yes" he breathed, his heart raced as she leaned in. His cheek burned as her hand held it softly. He's never had someone touch him so delicately. Like he was something special you'd be careful with.

Time froze when her lips touched his. He wasn't sure what to do at first, his hand slowly moved to her thigh, resting his palm against her bare skin as he tried to kiss back. He's seen it in movies, and he's heard his friends talk about it. But he's never heard anyone talk about how amazing he felt. He'd never heard anyone talk about the way his body tingled, the way he felt like he wanted to giggle and scream. He's never heard anyone talk about the pure feeling of happiness and desire running through their body.

But maybe that's because no one kissed her

Tags!

@bmunson86 @mxcheese @ladymunson @michaelfuckinglangdon @z0mbie-blah @biittersweet @mirrorsstuff @somethingvicked @micheledawn1975 @ago-godance @magnificantmermaid @tlclick73 @hargrovesswifee @cityofidek @manyfandomsfanvergentreblogs @silky-luxe @lokiofasgard616 @loving-and-dreaming @eddiemunsonsbitch69 @thegemaqua @ashlynnkennedy @strangerthingsstories5255 @harringt8ns @pleasinghellfire @whoscamila @stusdollface93 @gretavankleep37

[originalaccountname]

Finally caved and did my perceived timeline of what happened to Chuuya, from being brought into the lab for project Arahabaki to being taken out of it.

I originally thought about mentioning it in my Chuuya's true original ability being to amplify others' abilities post, but it was way too long, and not as solid an argument to that specific topic.

Because this is about Chuuya being the original, not the clone, but more importantly the why and how that is the case.

Chuuya's humanity is the core question of SB, and the most important part is that in the end, Chuuya chose to accept himself despite it all, and that no matter what, he is himself and no one can take that away from him.

But once we have been given all the pieces of the puzzle, we can try connecting the dots and deduce the true story behind it all.

-

Project Arahabaki was built to create an ability weapon based on the recovered notes of Pan, a French researcher and Verlaine's creator. The technique uses the clone of a human with a "fake" psyche (persona model) who is fused with a singularity life-form. The clone's original should have an ability able to create a self-referencing singularity (to manifest gravity powers). Pan even had a special ability metal to brainwash that individual. Basically, this concept is supposed to create an overpowered flesh puppet.

So. Project Arahabaki. They needed an original with an ability that could produce a singularity on its own, which is super rare. Joy oh joy, there just so happen to be this boy, the son of a military doctor, who fits these needs! They just need his DNA/some cells to create a clone to use in their project. It's the middle of the war, ethics are disregarded, plus no "real child" should be harmed in the making of this weapon. No biggie, right? Lend us your son for the sake of the country!

Except we know that boy, officially at least, died during the war.

According to N's timeline, there once was this certain boy who managed to create a singularity with his ability while under the supervision of scientists, but got swallowed by the black hole it created, never to return.

He also had Chuuya's supposed "original" stuck in a tube full of mystery liquid, the same kind Chuuya once was in, but that one's flesh and organs melted when exposed to air (normal behaviour), changing it into a skeleton that can be ordered around like an overpowered puppet (literally on strings. The tubes in its back controlled it and kept it going, but would severely limit its range)

Back to our Chuuya:

All N does is lie, so we can't take his word as the simple truth. Chuuya was a miracle they never managed to reproduce. Why is that?

In Rimbaud's notes, he says how in their operation to retrieve the new ability weapon Japan was developing (based on Verlaine), they managed to identify the artificial being, aka the clone, A2-5-8. In the flashback, Rimbaud is absolutely positive it is him, so we have to assume this information was recorded as-is somewhere.

And yet, Dazai is the one to suggest later that, perhaps, the original and the clone had been swapped.

And wouldn't that make everything else make sense?

The clone(s) never managed to hold up to the quality standard necessary to be useful outside of their confines. The skeleton approach was the lab trying something different, like N admitted so to Verlaine. There ever only was one successful attempt, a "miracle", Chuuya. The original child is thought to be dead, yet N the liar supposedly had him in a tube, ready to turn him into a skeleton(???). Rimbaud and Verlaine thought for sure they had the artificial life-form, the clone, but they got Chuuya, who has a graphite scar from before he lost his memories, with a past that was able to be dug up by the Flags and Port Mafia.

My conclusion is this: N swapped out a clone for the original child. His research wasn't giving the proper results, but he had found a workaround, where he could use the original instead of his clone, for better/faster results.

Chuuya is the only one who could harness "Arahabaki" in any way that would remotely resemble "Guivre". Chuuya is the only one who could operate autonomously. That's why N wanted to remove "Arahabaki" and try to factory-reset Chuuya before putting it back in: because there really is only one of him, and he couldn't afford losing him if he wanted to continue his research.

[inbabylontheywept]

"The reaper had a scythe. I have a combine harvester."

Arlach tapped his fingers nervously. He’d have gladly given up his life for the liberation of his people. A combine harvester (even a deluxe AI driven model) was a pittance compared to that. Still, he didn’t really understand what he was hearing.

“I uh… heard you’re hooking up my strawberry picker to an air defense cannon?”

The human technician assembling the gun held up a hand, finishing up some last tweaking of the wire harness. He touched two wires together carefully and swore when a shower of sparks shot out of the contact.

Set back, but not defeated, the man paused his task to answer the farmer’s question.

“See, you’re looking at this wrong. It’s an AI harvester, and it works great for strawberries, but machines don’t really see ‘strawberries’. They rate strawberry-ness. There’s a lot of ways to manage that, but it looks for a generally pointed shape, some seeds, and that nice red color. So your run of the mill strawberry generally receives an almost perfect strawberry-ness score, but something like this-”

His hands dug through all the pockets of his work suit before they finally found their target. He fished out what had been a standard ferroslug before it was painted bright red and smattered with a handful of black dots. He took a moment to admire it himself before tossing it to the farmer and continuing.

“Well, it’s not a strawberry, but it scores as one. Well enough that the machine gets positive feedback from its alignment unit every time it puts one of these babies where it's supposed to go.”

Arlach stared at him blankly.

“So what, you’re convincing it to fill a cargo container up with painted bullets?”

The technician grinned.

“There's no a limit to how fast it's allowed to fill that container up. At no point did the alignment protocol even consider that it'd be capable of throwing a 'strawberry' at mach nine. And the cargohold is important, but the rocket its attached to is more so. You know what looks a lot like a surface to orbit rocket?"

Arlach’s brain clicked.

“The hypersonic missiles they've been throwing at us.”

The grin widened. Arlach himself felt slightly awed to have found the connection.

“Will it work?”

The human nodded.

“It’s damn near the only thing that can. To shoot down something going that fast, that low, you either need a dummy missile that can brute force outrun it, or enough computing power to hack a station. The alliance is too chickenshit to send over their actual military AI's, but these myopic-type digibrains are supposed to be safe for civilian use because the idea of convincing your tractor that a bullet is a strawberry and a WMD is a cargo loader was a little too creative for the morons over at John Deere Galactic. And if that digibrain just so happens to function near the exoflop level, they're going to have a hard time sneaking anything larger than a bee through this airspace.”

The alien’s hands went over its crest as its mind reeled.

“They're not the only ones who would never think of this. It's brilliant. I never would've considered it.”

The tech shrugged good naturedly and went back to retrieve the two ends of wire that he’d dropped earlier.

“Eh, it's not coming from nowhere. There’s something of a human tradition about using farm equipment for war. I'm just lucky to be part of the next evolution in this. The reaper himself only used a scythe. Now I get to use a combine harvester.”

[moondirti]

DEE IK THIS IS SO OFF THE BAT BUT IMAGINE RIDING MIGUEL’S ABS??!;!;?:?:? WHATS UR CRUMB ON THAT BCS IM LITERALLY ASCENDING INTO HEAVEN JUST BY THE THOUGHT OF IT😩☝🏼

SUMMARY: after the events of DOUBLE RAPTURE, we follow Mig back home and explore his less than ideal relationship with his world's version of you.

explicit (18+) | 1.5k words

part one / can be read as a standalone! WARNINGS: smut, ab-riding, handjobs, codependant relationships, submissive (?) miguel, ANGST, fear of commitment (on the reader's part), implied parental issues, drinking, anxious/avoidant attachment styles NOTES: did this take me forever to respond to? yes. have i been thinking about it every day since i received it? also yes. please have a little drabble as a sweet treat for your genius mind, anon. sorry i took it too far

This is how it is with Miguel.

Buttressed on a leather couch that isn't so much leather anymore, but cotton dotted with the flakes of black suede that've managed to hold on through the years since you bought it. It's old, unstable – somewhat an apt metaphor for your relationship to the man – and stands situated across a television with no cable. He shows up at your door on any unannounced night, where for once you wish he'd catch you with plans pre-made, and intrudes on your vain attempt to connect the old screen to your neighbour's internet.

And it's ironic that you should end up watching dated cartoons anyway, stuck inside your apartment that is a fraction the size of his, because he always opens on some variation of the same line – the very thing that woo'd you all those years ago, when you were younger and prone to any man's charm:

What's a pretty thing like you do in a place like this?

It's dark outside – night-worn inhibition being one of the main constituents to poor decision making – and his skin gleams golden in the dim lamp light. You can't refuse him for all your rationale on why, so he comes in and you pour a strong drink whose hangover tomorrow will take precedence over your guilt. He drinks too, perhaps to make your eventual rejection easier, and the two of you make-out on that tumbledown couch until your lips turn blue.

Sometimes, he comes up for air – only when he gathers enough courage to break away from you – to whisper filthy nothings and little promises on the shell of your ear. Neither are empty, you know. Miguel’s good at making good of every word when it comes to you. The push and pull gets to him, fuels his gears until he’s pouring proper work into making you happy. From what you can physically face – gonna have you creaming on my cock, cariño – to prospects that remain ever-frightening – wanna stay like this forever, you on my lap, sharing our home. 

You’ve never had a reference to ‘our’. Commitment remains a fickle thing for you, instilled by parents who didn’t have the mind to give it. He knows as much, but you don’t think he understands just what keeps you around regardless. What keeps you at the door, waiting for an acknowledged three-knuckle knock. None of the in betweens, flowers, nor the heights you reach spread-eagled underneath him. It’s always just been exactly that – his return, done every time without fail. 

(And there’s the ever-negging fear that one day he’ll grow sick of the cycle. 

On one hand, you hope he does. It hurts him more than it does you, and you hate to watch him leave. Yet on the other, more volatile hand – you pray he fucks you so well you forget your reserve, that he breeds and carries you away from this hole you’ve dug yourself in.) 

For now, though–

For now, you lift the shirt off his frame. He’s let his chest-hair grow since you met him last, and if you strain to remember, he’s gotten bulkier. Abs more pronounced, with pecs that bounce when you graze your nails down his side. It’s refined, a look that makes him appear older. You swoop down to lick his neck, moaning hotly once you reach his mouth. 

“You been working out, Mig?” 

“For you, hermosa. Figured you’d like me better like this.” He groans, kneading the flesh of your thighs. His fingers dip into the waistband of your underwear, snapping it on your skin in an explicit plea to take it off. 

“And who told you that?” You say, acquiescing, working the lacey strip off your hips. Your cunt sucks at it, belligerent in letting go now that it’s soaked the fabric through. 

“A couple I met. They remind me of us.” His head follows yours when you draw away from an attempted kiss. It’s unintentional, done to stand off and strip completely, yet his reaction to it sends little tremors of pleasure to your core. “Of what we could be.” 

“Shhhh.” Once you’re completely bare, tits freed from your tank top, you straddle him again, a little higher this time. His waist is cinched enough to allow you to do so with little fuss, tendons at the top of your thighs aching only slightly. “Make me feel good, please.” 

“Of course.” 

His thumb presses down on your swollen clit, holding it in place while you arch your back and trap it underneath you – sandwiching it between your mound and his midriff. The pressure is electric, charged to fervency, buzzing as it lights every nerve ending from your waist below. And three thrusts forth and back see to it that he’s slick, lubed with the juices that gradually seep from your needy slit. 

The sight, the sensations, the thought that he’s putting effort outside of this room for you – they all make you exceedingly weak. Your legs wobble, practically jello, spine made out of sand and unable to support you fully. Miguel stays firm, one large paw squeezing your breast and the other at your pelvis. You’d ask him to help, to move you against him until you see stars, but a stone lodges in your throat and prevents the words from finding clarity. 

It’s guilt, of that you’re familiar, but for a number of things; the fact that he would help you seek pleasure in spite of his own – his erection left abandoned under the confines of his pants. The idea of desecrating his hard work, those muscles made pronounced, with your filth without fully appreciating it first. For everything, everything, and it’s so crushing that you stop moving altogether. 

“No, no. C’mon, pretty. Keep going.” He begs, pelvis thrusting up with need. You shove your arm behind you, seeking out the zipper keeping him from you, palming his hard length with clumsy assurance “Don’t worry about me. Wanna feel you cum on my abs. Gonna lick you clean after. We have forever if you’d let me. There’s no rush.” 

No rush. It’s far from the typical Miguel sentiment, and you blink in perplexed contemplation. But he just grins, brows knitting up with reverence. 

“Did these people also teach you to take your time?” You struggle to say patience, because he’s always been patient with you. 

“Something along the lines.” He mutters, suddenly sheepish. His fangs always intrude when his tone is quiet, like they’re intentionally making him difficult to understand. He knows he’s special to you when you try to decipher it nonetheless. 

“Don’t be making me jealous, now.” You taunt, dipping to bite his lip. It’s fun to pull up, up, until he whines and shoves you harder onto him. Achingly empty and close to cumming on his abdomen alone. Slowly, you start to gyrate again, riding unrelenting sinew. And in the meanwhile, you manage to get his zipper undone, sneaking your hand beneath his briefs.

“I’ll explain lat… later, p-promise.” 

“I don’t doubt it. F-Fuck,” Somehow, the pleasure is simultaneously heavenly and not enough, this little game you decided to engage in tiptoeing the line. He’s good even when he isn’t trying, just laying there, pinching pebbled nipples with enough callousness that it aches in the best way. On your first date – which wasn’t really a date, but a happenstance meeting at your father’s shady bar – he’d been hesitant to hurt you like you wanted. The best he could do was pepper your neck with sore hickeys, pocketed in the back alley, touch kinder than any you’d experienced before. “Oh my god.”

“Y-You’re so soft. My gorgeous girl. So soft and… and pretty when you do that.”

“Mig.” You wail, useless in properly pumping his pulsing cock. It’s all you can do to palm the head, smearing prespend all over his velvet tip. And it’s hard, like smelted iron, throbbing hot and heavy. It’s been so long since you’ve had it in you that you’re sure it’ll take some effort to fit. The abstraction fills you with desperation so poignant that you start moving faster, rougher, seeking an end where you’re stuffed full yet doing nothing to actually achieve it. 

That is, until–

“What do you need?” He asks.

Your hole clenches. Your guts knot together. Your orgasm gathers, full and sloshing wet, trapped behind the wall he’s been breaking down since his arrival. 

“You!” You finally admit. “You.” Softer. 

And when you cum, soaking his middle with shameless indulgence, all he does is flip you over to settle beneath him. The couch rocks with the sudden upheaval, threatening collapse, so he keeps a firm hold of your shoulders, kneeling between your quivering thighs. His breadth bobs from over his pants – you don’t recall taking it out – purple with restrained pain and just waiting for your cue to allow him entry.

“I’ve got you, cariño.” Miguel hums, positioning himself onto the divet of your cunt when you give a frail nod. “I’ve got you.” 

And you know, of course you do. He’s never backed away from a promise before. Because that is how it is with Miguel.

[babymetaldoll]

Are you mine? - Chapter two: “Let the fear you have fall away”

Summary: (Y/N) is very pregnant and she will have to learn to deal with the hormonal swings, the fears, the nausea and the realization that things might never be the same again.   Word count: 11.110 words Warnings: mention of a daddy kind, description of Criminal Cases from season 9 ep 19 Mr & Mrs. Anderson. Extreme fluff, some light angst.  A/N: years ago I wrote the entire story of how Spencer found out he was gonna be a dad with reader, it's called: "You are gonna be the best dad." 

Series' Masterlist - Author's masterlist

Previous chapter | Next chapter

Spencer’s point of view

When (Y/N) told me she was pregnant with our first baby, it was one of the most chaotic moments of my life. I had no idea what was going on.

We didn’t try for too long before she realized her period was late, just four months of many, many attempts to have a baby. I was blind to the first signs: her breasts were getting bigger and her stomach was giving her a hard time. I never noticed anything, which eventually made me feel like a lousy profiler if you ask me. But I wasn't trying to read her, and she was waiting for the right time to tell me. She had it all planned: she had even rented a cabin in the woods for the following weekend, and she had a little box of clues gathered to surprise me.

But, of course, our job got in the way, like it always did when something important was about to happen. We were caught up in a case and never made it in time to enjoy the cabin. Besides, the team realized something was up with my wife, even before I suspected anything. By the time we were back in DC after solving that case, they had all noticed she was pregnant, and even Emily in London knew I was gonna be a dad before I did.

I remember getting our bags in the car, still in the FBI parking, when somehow I found the box filled with all the clues and little treats she had gotten for me.

- “Hey, chipmunk? What’s in this box?”

- “What?”- (Y/N) turned around and tried to grab it from my hands, but it was too late. My curiosity was faster and I had already opened it.

- “What’s all this? a teddy bear with glasses? That’s funny. A rattle, baby shoes…”- I started taking everything from the box, still not getting what it was all about. (Y/N) sighed and looked at me, trying to find the right words to give me the news.

- “Honey…”

- “A onesie that says “baby genius, like my dad,”- I remember thinking We should get one of these when we have a baby. I was embarrassingly stupid at that minute, and I blame the exhaustion after the case. Besides, I know I can be clueless about the obvious sometimes.

- “Honey bunny…”- my wife stood in front of me and looked at my confused face as I kept trying to understand what those things were doing there.

- “Why do you have all these things in our car?”

- “There is one more thing in the box you haven’t seen yet.”- (Y/N) whispered with a sweet smile on her lips. I dug into the box again until I finally grabbed a pregnancy test with a little note hanging from it.

- “Baby Reid, coming soon.”- I read out loud and immediately opened my eyes wide, in shock.

- “I’m so sorry, Spencer. I didn’t want to tell you here. I wanted to make it special”- (Y/N) whispered and even pouted as I looked at her in complete disbelief. Yes, we stood in the parking lot at Quantico, but she was delivering the most important news I had ever received.

- “You… we are… you are….”- I stuttered as I tried to make my brain work again. I felt all my brain cells had turned off the second I connected all the dots.

- “Yes.”- she smiled and took a step closer to me as she added- “We are gonna have a baby.”

I could only stare at her, in shock. Her eyes were filled with tears as she waited for my reaction. Meanwhile, I could barely process all that information. My heart was pounding in my chest and my eyes were watering as I just looked at my wife.

- “Come here,”- when I finally managed to speak, I hugged her tight and tried not to sob as I kissed her, and repeatedly thanked her.

- “Why are you thanking me?”- (Y/N) whispered against my chest and I just chuckled, still shocked. It took me a few seconds to gather my thoughts because I felt like I was dreaming. Somehow at that minute, life was too perfect to be true.

- “Because you just gave me everything I ever wanted,”- I murmured and wiped off the tears from my face quickly before cupping her cheeks with my hands and kissing her lips sweetly.

- “I just wanna make you happy, Spencer Walter Reid,”- she answered between kisses, making me smile.

- “You are very good at that”- I said as I wrapped her in my arms and kissed her one more time.

- “You make me happy too just so you know,”- (Y/N) added and smiled as I rested my forehead against hers. My wife was pregnant, it was a dream come true.

- “And you are gonna be a great dad, honey bunny.”- (Y/N) said and it still shocked me to hear those words.

- “I’m gonna be a dad,”- I repeated and chuckled- “I’m gonna be a dad.”

- “Not just a dad, the best dad!”- (Y/N) kissed me again and held my hand- “Now let’s go home so we can eat and celebrate.”

- “Wait!”- before (Y/N) could move from my embrace I stopped her, all the signs that were too obvious to see were finally making sense.

- “Emily knew, that’s why he texted me congratulations. Am I right?!”- my wife looked at me with an apologetic smile and nodded.

- “I’m so sorry, honey. I tried to make it special, but I failed.”

- “But she is in London! How did she… Who told her? Who else knows?”

- “Morgan, JJ, Hotch, and Garcia. Garcia told Emily.”

- “You told the entire team before you told me?”- the words came out harder and angrier than they should have been. In reality, I was shocked she hadn’t told me first, but never mad.

- “I haven’t told anyone except for you. But working with profilers makes keeping a secret a nearly impossible task.”

- “But I didn’t notice”- I argued, upset with myself for being so blind and naive. My wife hugged me, and kissed me a few times, soothing my anger.

- “I didn’t want you to notice ‘cos I wanted to make it special for you. Not in a parking lot, by the way”- she was disappointed with the circumstances of her confession.

- “Any place is special when I’m with you, Mrs. Reid”- I whispered, holding her closer and kissing her lips a few more times, as I felt her smiling against my mouth. - “Now let’s go home, tomorrow we are going to the library to get all the pregnancy books we can find.”

- “Of course, we are.”- (Y/N) giggled and got in the car. It wasn’t in a magical cabin in the woods or watching the sunset on a beach, but it was perfect anyway because we were together, and my wife was giving me the life I always dreamed about, but never imagined I could have.

When we told the team, everybody got excited. They hugged us and congratulated us for a good ten minutes. Though they all knew, the fact it was official made it all special. Garcia went nuts and even video-called Prentiss to the UK. JJ was pregnant with Michael at the time, and she started sharing tips with my wife right away.

- “Congratulations, Reid”- Blake said as she stood by my side and raised her coffee, to toast. I followed her lead and smiled.

- “Thank you.”

- “Have you thought about names yet?”

- “Yes, but nothing specific yet. We are just sharing options and making a list.”

- “Which is your favorite?”

- “Matilda or Raven for a girl, and Finn or Oliver for a boy.”- I said, smiling and Blake nodded right away.

- “Did you pick names from your favorite books?”

- “Yes. They were my best friends growing up.”- I confessed and sipped my coffee. (Y/N) turned to me from the other side of the room and smiled, making my heart skip a beat.

But then, it all turned too real to be true. Hotch told (Y/N) she wasn’t allowed back into the field until after the baby was born, which also included me most of the time. And I was glad to stay aside from the action. I wanted to take care of my wife and help her with every craving, every back pain, or body ache. Then came all the paperwork, signing disclaimers and basically making sure the entire Bureau knew what was going on. Hotch said it was mandatory, but it still felt slightly over the top. Neither of us argued with it, but we were both slightly uncomfortable.

On top of telling the team and the rest of the FBI about our pregnancy, Mikey, Frank and Lu were paranoid during the entire gestation of our baby. They called pretty much every day and became very protective of (Y/N). Honestly, they were worse than her parents.

- “How long are you going to work?”- Frank asked her when we all got together at our apartment for dinner. (Y/N) looked at Paco and raised an eyebrow, not getting where that question was coming from, or why he was even asking.

- “Until the day the baby is born, why?”- my wife's answer was the most logical, and also, what we had talked about and agreed to do. Yet somehow, for Frank, Lu, and Mikey, it was the most irrational thing we had ever shared with them.

- “What the fuck, nugget?”- Mikey yelled, making (Y/N) jump.

- “What’s wrong?”- she asked, confused by their freaked-out reaction.

- “You have to take time off work, get some rest, and keep our baby away from fucking psycho killers!!”- somehow, Frank calling my baby “our baby” wasn’t weird at all. He, Mikey, and Lu were insanely intrusive during the whole process. Not in a bad way, just in a… I guess, possessive way.

- “You know I’m no longer on the field.”- (Y/N) explained again, though that was something we had both told our friends multiple times. - “I’ve been sitting around police stations all over the country for the last four months! It’s so fucking boring!”

I knew (Y/N) didn’t like to stay away from the action. She loved our job and she wanted to catch serial killers. But at that moment, she could only help with geographic profile and support from the station.

- “Just what? four more to go!”- Mikey joked and sipped his beer- “Come on, nugget. We are worried because we love you.”

- “Yeah, we are all worried about my godson or daughter.”- Frank added and both Mikey and Lu smacked him at the same time.

- “My godson or daughter!”- they argued possessively. I turned to my wife and watched her smile as our friends continued rambling about who the godfather of our firstborn would be. I held her hand upon the table and she turned to me immediately.

- “I love you.”- I whispered and she smiled.

- “Me more.”- (Y/N) leaned over and kissed me, as our friends kept chatting.- “So, do you want to go out for dinner tomorrow?”

- “Are you asking me out, Mrs. Reid?”- I whispered and watched her blushing, completely flustered. I will always love that reaction to that simple nickname.

- “Maybe I am, doctor.”- and she knew exactly how to tease me.

- “This is gross, we are still here.”- Frank argued right away.

- “Remember when you asked me a million times to date Spencer? Well now I married him and you’ll have to deal with this!”- (Y/N) quickly replied and smiled at her friends. I chuckled and stared at her with what Garcia calls “heart eyes”, just like the cartoons. Every day I feel like there is no way on earth I could ever love her more than I already do, but the following day, I always prove myself wrong.

(Y/N)’s point of view

A moment of pure honesty: so far in life, I’ve enjoyed being pregnant. Each time it has happened, Spencer treats me like a princess made of glass. He is always sweet and thoughtful, but when I’m carrying his kids, I become the most important and precious thing in the whole galaxy for him. It’s impossible not to fall for how carefully and lovingly he treats me.

Any cravings, no matter what time or what it is, he gets it. Pampers and kisses are available for me 24/7. Crying over a movie, show, or TV commercial? Spencer is there to hug me and tell me I’m not crazy. And trust me, I feel like I’m going crazy most of the time.

However, there is a dark side to pregnancy, and so many ghosts appear to hunt me. There are the doubts that keep hunting my brain, hormones changing, and overthinking. Sometimes I felt needy, and when the months passed and I started turning “rounder”, I also started feeling ugly. I have never been overconfident about my looks, but now I was afraid Spencer was never going to think I was sexy again, and he would leave me.

Being pregnant can make you very irrational. No one ever told me that. And if they did, I never actually listened.

However, my husband was always the sweetest. He would hold me, kiss me, and tell me how much he loved me.

That very first time I got pregnant, I started second-guessing everything a few days before Valentine’s Day. I was already five months pregnant and I felt like a whale. I couldn’t imagine how big I was going to get in the following weeks. And I was sure Spencer was going to leave me.

I told you, I was being irrational, right?

Morgan and Garcia were talking about Valentine’s Day when we reached the bullpen that morning. They were telling each other whatever plans they had with their dates and both of them seemed excited. Derek has a date with Savannah and Pen was planning a night with her boyfriend, Sam.

- “And what are you guys doing this year?”- Garcia asked and placed a hand on my tummy, hoping to feel the baby’s first kicks.

- “I… I don’t know.”- I answered the truth, ‘cos I hadn’t had a moment to plan anything for Valentine’s. Over the years, it had become one of our favorite celebrations, and every year I dedicated the entire day to celebrating my husband. I always tried to make something extra special for him that day. Why? Aside from the fact that he absolutely deserved it, I always felt like he would do everything and anything to make me feel loved, and I wanted to make him feel just as loved.

So, having no plans for Valentine’s that year shocked me and stressed me. I had forgotten about that celebration. And I needed to show my husband how much I loved him and make it extra special.

There I was, lost in thoughts and planning when JJ walked out of the elevator. She had been kidnapped a few weeks earlier, we had all worked extra hard to bring her back, unharmed, and medics had suggested she stay home for a month to recover. Which is why none of us was expecting to have her back to work yet.

- “JJ! You are back! How are you feeling?”- Spencer asked as he hugged her.

- “I’m ready to work”- she replied and turned to me- “(Y/N)! You are glowing!”

- “Don’t turn this to me, what the hell are you doing here already? Shouldn’t you be resting?”- I argued as JJ simply smiled, looking freaking gorgeous.

- “I'm… I'm fine. Don't get me wrong, I love my boys to death, but I was starting to get a little stir-crazy.”

- “Well, let's do this.”- Morgan said and opened the door for us.

- “I’m glad you are back, JJ”- Spencer added and smiled at our friend. She smiled back at him and replied.

- “Thank you. I’m glad to be here.”

- “Do you want some tea?”- Penelope suggested and all of them walked a little faster than me, as I slowly made my way to the briefing room. I had a little back pain and some dizziness that made moving a little more challenging. And for the first time, Spencer didn’t notice. Instead, he walked JJ to the briefing room and left me behind.

I stared at him from a distance and sighed. I knew I was being irrational, but I couldn’t help but feel a little jealous of the attention Spencer was giving JJ at that minute. I know it was stupid, she was our friend and she had been held captive and tortured, of course, he was going to be extra nice to her. But still, it hurt.

The entire team welcomed JJ back, and before Garcia started explaining our next case, everybody asked JJ how she was feeling. They wanted to know if she had seen a doctor before coming back to work, and basically, they all just told her how amazing she looked. I was the one turning food into a tiny human in my stomach, but she looked good.

It didn’t get much better once we were on the plane to Pittsburgh. I could feel my feet getting swollen with every minute that passed. That had never happened before and it just made me feel humiliated. Everything was going downhill.

- “Good news, crime-fighters.”- Garcia’s voice took me from my thoughts and back to reality as her image showed up on the screen in front of me. - “I tracked the shower curtains this creep has been using to burrito his victims. Turns out they are commercial grade, sold in bulk to a bunch of economy motels, a list of which I just sent you.”

- “It makes sense.”- Blake added- “It's a secure secondary location.”

- “Either he doesn't want to draw attention to his home or someone is living with him.”- Papa Pasta suggested.

- “Rossi, you and Morgan go to the M. E.”- Aaron commanded- “ JJ and Reid, go through Garcia's list of motels.”- I froze at those words. Spencer was going to be on the field? He had been with me at the police station for the last eleven cases. I knew it wasn’t a rule or mandatory, but I thought Hotch was trying to be nice and pair us together for our sanity. Wanna know what upset me the most? my husband didn't argue, he just smiled and nodded at the command.

- “Blake, (Y/N), and I will go to the field office and cover victimology with Agent West.”- Aaron finished commanding and I stayed still, sipping my water, nearly shocked. Blake cut me a big smile and I had to smile back.

- “How are you feeling, (Y/N)?”- Blake asked as soon as we got into the SUV after we landed. I had already kissed my husband goodbye and watched him make his way with JJ, away from me, which for some weird reason, hurt me deeper than I ever thought it would.

- “I’m good, I miss coffee, though. I would love a large black coffee right now. No sugar, no cream.”- I replied and struggled to buckle up. - “Shit, I’m so pregnant.”- Hotch chuckled and helped me with the seat belt.

- “You are only five months into the pregnancy.”- he whispered and smiled at me- “You are still a few weeks from the short breath problems, cramps, and fatigue.”

- “Please, don’t spoil it!”- I argued and Aaron Hotchner laughed- “You are giving me all the dirty details of pregnancy I didn’t want to know.”

- “You will love it! He is just making it sound like hell!”- Blake rubbed my shoulder with her hand in support and I tried to turn and look at her. I knew she had lost her child, but she had been a mom, and her guidance had been quite useful during the entire process.

- “Other than coffee, how are your cravings?”- Hotch asked as he started driving us to the station. I told them about my random food choices, and they made me feel better about my pickle mayonnaise craving for dinner. According to him, Haley craved hot Cheetos dipped in yogurt, and Blake told me she once ate two bowls of hot Indian curry because she was craving spicy food. Somehow, curry started to sound good after she mentioned it, but we had no time for pit stops. In a few minutes, we were at the station, and before I realized it, my head was buried in work. Another day, another psycho killer, I guess.

I didn’t hear from Spencer for the rest of the day. Nothing. He didn’t reply to my texts (I only sent two because I didn’t want to sound needy) and he didn’t even call. So when he reached the station that evening with JJ, I was already upset and ready to give him the cold shoulder.

- “Chipmunk! how are you feeling?”- my husband kissed my cheek and sat next to me at the table, where I was analyzing victimology with Blake.

- “I’m good.”- I simply replied and kept looking at the papers.

- “Have you eaten anything?”- he asked and grabbed a few files as well. I just hummed and avoided looking at him. There was a long silence in the room, though we were all there. For a few seconds, that felt like hours, no one said anything. Probably they all noticed I was mad at my husband.

- “Take a look at this”- Agent West, from the local police force, walked into the room with more info and handed us all new folders- “You guys were right. I was able to match their M.O. to 10 other strangulation murders. We were only able to identify four.”

- “They've been at it since 1994.”- Rossi pointed out as we all read the file.

- “Looks like they stopped in 2010 and remained dormant up until now.”- my husband added and looked at me. But before I could say anything, JJ started talking.

- “Something had to prevent them from killing. Maybe one was incarcerated.”- so I just sighed and looked at the files again.

- “I'll start pulling prison records, see if I can't get a match.”- Agent West was very excited with the findings, and he walked out of the room in a hurry. I sighed one more time, exhausted, and continued reading. Spencer moved closer to me and rubbed his warm hand carefully on my leg. It was a loving gesture I’ve always adored, but I was so irrationally upset with him at that minute, I hated it. I held my breath and stayed very still as he did, and I guess he noticed something was wrong, ‘cos he slowly stopped and moved his hand from my leg. I didn’t turn to look at him, but I knew his eyes were analyzing me and probably wondering why I was mad.

- “These two have been in a relationship a lot longer than we thought.”- Rossi said and left his case file on the table, ready to start analyzing the new facts.

- “But even if they broke up, to come back together and resume killing after a four-year hiatus is rare.”- Spencer looked confused by the unsub's actions like there was a logic he couldn’t understand. I shrugged, finally acknowledging him.

- “Love is strange. It will make you do the craziest things.”

Those words just slipped through my lips and never actually went through my brain. It was an entirely emotional answer. My husband stared at me, his lips parted and his eyes focused on every micro reaction on my face. I tried not to give away anything, but I’m sure I failed.

- “Guys, what if they are married?”- JJ suggested, obviously taking the idea from what was happening in the room. I looked down at my hands and decided I didn’t want to talk anymore. I just wanted to crawl into a bed and lie down.

- “Sounds about right”- Rossi added and looked at us.

- “It’s been a long day, we’ll pick it up from here tomorrow at seven. Let’s get some rest.”- Hotch read my mind and we all slowly gathered our things. Spencer grabbed my bag and waited as I slowly moved to the door. I walked in silence until we reached an SUV, and my husband opened the door for me. I wanted to tell him thanks, but I didn’t. Why? ‘Cos I was being irrational.

- “Do you wanna get dinner?”- he whispered as he sat behind the wheel. I didn’t reply.- “(Y/N), why are you mad at me? What did I do?”

- “Nothing.”- I mumbled, already pouting.

- “Clearly I did something that upset you, so please tell me.” - he wasn’t angry, he was honestly worried. I did my best and tried not to look at him, instead, I was making an effort not to cry.

- “Is it because I didn’t reply to your texts? I am sorry chipmunk, but JJ and I had a very busy day, and I didn’t have a spare second.”

- “Sure…”- I whispered and bit my lips, ‘cos my quin quivered. I turned and looked through the window, to anything but my husband.

- “Come on, please.”

- “You didn’t have ten seconds to type “I’m ok, love you” during the entire day you spent with JJ?! Really?!”

And what I avoided the most, just happened: I yelled like a crazy person. I even broke into tears as well. It was way out of proportion, it was completely unexpected, and Spencer looked at me not knowing what was happening.

- “I wanted to be with you! I wanted to know about you! I fucking missed you! I was worried! And you never took the time to reply to my texts! I am sure you were waiting for any chance you got to stay away from me! I’m sure you were already sick of being paired with me at the station! and you were happy to be with JJ ‘cos she is cute and hot and I am a fucking pregnant whale!!”

Yes. I am not proud. But somehow, it was relieving just taking all that from my chest.

Spencer stayed quiet for a moment as I just cried my eyes out. I prayed none of our friends was left in that parking lot, ‘cos I didn’t want them to see me like that. Spencer reached for my hand and held it. I didn’t fight him or anything, mostly because I was honestly craving his touch. He caressed my hand and I continued sobbing and after a few minutes, he simply whispered.

- “I’m sorry.”- and I knew I wasn’t mad at him anymore- “I know this whole process is… difficult for you, and I am sorry I can’t do anything but be supportive with you to help you through it. I love you, chipmunk. I love you so much it hurts. I never meant to make you sad, or upset. I just… got my head into work and forgot. It won’t happen again.”

Spencer kissed my knuckles and I tried to steady my breathing. My irrationality was upsetting, but I didn’t know how to turn it off or manage it.

- “I love you.”- he whispered one more time- “And please, don’t call yourself a whale again.”- my husband begged as he kept looking into my eyes with such love and care, I felt I was gonna melt- “You are more beautiful with every passing day.”

- “I’m getting huge, and I’m just nineteen weeks in.”- I mumbled still in tears, and caressed my tummy.

- “Chipmunk, you look so sexy, so beautiful and so mine with that round tummy, showing everyone you are carrying my baby.”- I wanted to tease him about his obvious breeding kink, but I was still trying to calm myself down.

- “I am so sorry I made you feel bad, ma cheriê. I love you so much.”

- “I… I love you too.”- I managed to mumble, still sobbing- “And… and I’m so fucking hungry.”- my husband started the car right away and started driving in no time.

- “Then I’m taking you out for dinner to make it up to you for making you worried today. Is that ok with you, chipmunk?”- I nodded and whipped off my tears with both hands, ruining what was left of my makeup.

I wish I could tell you that was the only time I was irrational during my pregnancy. But it was just the beginning. And every time I realized I was acting crazy, I got more and more scared Spencer would stop loving me.

Spencer’s point of view

I’ve always thought it’s unfair how my wife has to carry (literally and emotionally) the burden of bringing our kids into the world. It was painful to see her go through so much on her own, being an observer and a helper in any way possible. I couldn’t take the morning sickness from her, or the swollen feet, the contraction pain, the labor sacrifice. It was so much. And all I could was support her.

She could be irrational. I know it's common to have mood swings and feel tearful or easily irritated during the first semester of pregnancy. I was ready for it. I knew her body was going through a change and she had to adapt to the higher levels of these hormones. After that, things had to go smoother.

Statistically, one in eight women suffers from depression during gestation, and I was scared anything like that would happen to her. She was already giving me everything I ever dreamed about, and I wanted to make her happy.

After that first incident, I wanted to talk to Hotch and tell him I’d stay at the police station with my wife, but (Y/N) convinced me otherwise.

- “I overreacted, honey bunny.”- she stood in front of me and helped me fix my tie before we left our room to work the following morning- “Stop worrying about it. Don’t say anything to Hotch, just let’s go out there and do as we are told, for once.”

I stared at her and caressed her belly, waiting to finally feel our baby’s first kicks. I looked carefully into my wife’s eyes and leaned over to kiss her.

- “Are you sure?”

- “Positive”- she stood on her tiptoes and reached my lips with hers, kissing so sweetly and softly, that I nearly melted. - “Go out there and kick some ass.”

- “And when we get home, do I get to worship my wife?” - I whispered in her ear as (Y/N) giggled. I kept my arms around her, feeling her body close to me.- “I mean it, I want you to know how much I love you, ma cherie.”

- “I know, Daddy.”- the pet name had a different meaning now, and it affected me on so many levels it’s embarrassing to even start explaining.

- “Are you gonna be good today?”- I asked her in a deep voice. She just nodded and kissed me again. - “If you are good today at work, I’ll do whatever you want me to do when we get back home.”- I suggested and (Y/N) bit her lips.

- “Anything?”

- “Whatever you want, ma cherie”

- “Laundry and ironing too?”- she murmured and walked away from me. I groaned and followed her, leaving our room.

- “Really?”

- “You said anything, dear husband. That means in fact, whatever I want.”

- “But why can’t it be dirty?”- (Y/N) chuckled as she pushed the elevator button and turned to me.

- “It could be… if you get laundry done.”

That day I was out in the field with JJ and Morgan. Yes, it was a change being out there again after so many months at police stations doing geographic profiles with my wife. And though a part of me enjoyed being out, I still wished I was with her.

Morgan always made fun of me, saying I was whipped. And yes, I was. I still am. And I love every second of it. I don’t know how to explain it, but being with my wife makes me the happiest man on earth. No matter what. I guess Morgan hadn’t met that kind of person yet, so he couldn’t get it at that minute.

However, being on the field with him also meant having to hear him teasing me and asking way too many questions. And considering (Y/N) had had a little moment the prior day at the police station, he had a lot of things to ask.

- “How is the Mrs, Reid?”- Morgan drove to the crime scene we were called to and kept his eyes on the road. JJ was sitting next to him and didn’t say a word.

- “You just saw her, she is fine.”- I tried to be as vague as possible, but he kept pushing it, of course.

- “Everything ok? She seemed a little upset yesterday.”

- “Morgan, don’t snoop into other people’s relationships.”- JJ was the voice of reason Derek obviously ignored.

- “Pregnancy is getting harder?”- he asked and I sighed, annoyed by his questions- “Oh, man! That’s a yes!”

- “It’s just unfair she gets to go through all those changes and all I can do is support her. I feel useless because I can’t help her.”- I explained, but now that I think about it, Morgan was never going to understand what was happening. He just wanted to tease me.

- “So hormones are driving her crazy?”- and he even chuckled as she suggested my wife was going insane.

- “No. She is…”- I bit my tongue ‘cos I didn’t want to share something that I knew was going to upset my wife.

- “I’ve seen it happen.”- Morgan smiled and JJ turned to him immediately.

- “When?”

- “Ehh…”- he hesitated and nearly answered, but decided to change the subject instead. - “Is she upset you are on the field today?”

- “No, she just worries, but it’s normal. We talked about it and everything is ok.”- the less they knew, the better. I know we are together all the time, but I don’t want the team into everything that happens in my relationship.

- “Well, you know what they say.”- Derek said as he parked the SUV- “Happy wife, happy life.”

I quickly got out of the van and stared at the scene in front of me. A new victim was displayed in the middle of the street, and for the first time ever, it was a man and not a woman.

- “This is a first for them.”- JJ said as she stood next to me, followed by Morgan.

- “Aside from gender, the M. O. is the same.”- Agent West pointed from the side of the corps.

- “Something in their dynamic must have changed.”- Morgan walked closer as I maintained my distance from the body.

- “A male victim most likely caters to the female unsub's desires.”- JJ added and turned to me for a second.

- “They haven't displayed that behavior before. Up until now, it appears it's been the male picking the victims.”- I said, trying to connect the dots.

- “Which typically indicates a dominant/submissive relationship.”- Morgan pointed out, still staring at the corpse in front of us.

- “It looks as though her psychopathology could be evolving.”- I know it was obvious, but I had to say it.

- “Ok, we need to look at this from a marriage perspective. Compromise is the key to any long-term relationship's success. What if this murder was their way of sharing responsibility?”- I don’t know if JJ was saying that because it fit the case or the conversation we were having in the SUV earlier.

- “He let the woman choose the victim. That could be problematic.”- I replied only because it made sense to the case, not because it made sense in a relationship.

- “Now that she's been given control, she might not want to let it go.” - Morgan added and looked at me- “Sounds familiar, kid?”

- “Shut up.”

The teasing didn’t get any better when we delivered the profile. Now that I know there won’t be any more moments like that again in my life (at least at work), I guess it can be a little nostalgic. But I specifically remember how annoyed I was that day.

After the crime scene, we went straight back to the police station. We had a brief meeting with the team and then, we decided to deliver the profile.

- “We believe we're looking for a married couple, to whom we can attribute at least 13 deaths since 1994.”- Hotch started explaining.

- “He's a sexual sadist, and she's a scopophiliac, which is Greek for "love of looking, " meaning that she gets off on watching her husband kill.”- my wife added as she crossed her arms on her chest and stared at the police force, taking notes around us.

- “Like Karla Homolka and Paul Bernardo, who raped, tortured, and killed at least 19 people, this couple's homicidal tendencies most likely surfaced once they met.”- I walked from the side I was standing and moved closer to my wife, ‘cos I didn’t feel comfortable when she was far from me. I needed to feel I could protect her and our baby by all means.

- “It's possible that the use of a shower curtain is a sign of remorse on the part of the female unsub.”- Rossi started talking as I stood right next to (Y/N). I could actually feel the warmth from her body next to me, though we weren’t even touching.

- “Up until now, all the victims were females, so it's possible that the change in victimology could be the husband's way of subjugating his own needs for his wife's happiness.”- Derek explained, but looked at me for a slip of a second.

- “But a sexual sadist doesn't typically subjugate. We think he could have committed crimes on the side that got him arrested.”- JJ continued.

- “But wouldn't we have the bodies to prove that?”- Agent West asked, confused.

- “Yes. Which is why we need to take another look at all strangulations within the geographical profile that occurred during the gap years.”- Rossi explained. I slowly rested my hand next to my wife’s and moved my pinky carefully toward her fingers, caressing her skin slowly. (Y/N) didn’t move, didn’t look at me, she didn’t even notice what I was doing. But I felt her shoulder dropping and relaxing as soon as I touched her.

- “Without his female partner's influence, the male's independent M.O. should present differently.”- Morgan said and locked eyes with me, making me stop what I was doing right away.

- “Learning the nature of how that differs from their team dynamic will be the key to driving a wedge between their partnership.” - my wife said, making eye contact with as many officials as possible. I just stared at her and nodded, supporting every word.

- “In the meantime, all transients are at risk.”- Blake continued talking - “Now that the wife has gotten a taste of control, she'll crave that feeling again.”

- “And if the husband sublimated his needs with the last kill, his desire to fulfill his own will be what’s driving him now. Thank you very much”- Hotch finished and dispatched all the police. We all remained in our spots to continue with the profile review.

- “What can you add, Reid?”- Morgan asked and raised an eyebrow- “From your husband's point of view, not talking as an SSA.”- he asked me as soon as everybody else was out of the room. I just looked at him and raised an eyebrow but didn’t reply. And (Y/N) turned to me wondering what he was talking about.

- “Morgan.”- Hotch raised an eyebrow and stared at Derek, who raised his hands and walked to the coffee pot.

- “What was that about?”- (Y/N) whispered as she stood next to me.

- “Just ignore him. I do”- I held my wife’s hand and kissed it. She smiled as I did and both of us pretended Morgan wasn’t there anymore.

During the rest of the afternoon, we analyzed unsolved strangulation cases within the geographical profile. I can’t say it was the best way to spend an afternoon, but at least I could spend the time with my wife. And the rest of the team.

- “How are you feeling?”- I whispered as I sat next to (Y/N) and noticed she had left half of her dinner untouched. We had ordered Chinese food for dinner for the team, and I knew she loved that.

- “I’m good”- my wife replied and continued reading.

- “You are not hungry? I thought you’d love dinner. It’s one of your favorites. You are not into Chinese anymore?”- my wife shrugged and looked at the files in her hands. JJ walked in sipping a gigantic soda, and I heard (Y/N) sighing. So that was it, she was self-conscious of her weight. It hurt me knowing my wife was so scared to gain weight during pregnancy. But most of all it pained me to know she was comparing herself with JJ. It was logical, JJ had had a kid and she hadn’t lost her figure after giving birth. But, how could I explain to my wife that I thought she was very sexy with that round tummy? I know I had told her, but clearly, it didn’t make any difference to her.

- “Chipmunk…”- I whispered, but JJ started talking about work, and (Y/N) ignored me to focus on her.

- “I have a 1989 strangulation victim dumped 10 miles from where the first body was found, only she was raped and stabbed.”

- “His comfort zone. Could be our unsub.”- (Y/N) said looking at the team.

- “Well, I've got two more, '01 and '03, except these took place in Clifford, Delaware. The M.O.'s an exact match.”- Rossi added and looked through the files he had read.

- “I got another one here from 2013, Scottsdale, Maryland.”- Morgan didn’t look from the papers as he spoke- “He was smart enough to cross state lines.”

- “The Crestview rapist was operating during that time.”- JJ pointed out. I looked at my wife for a moment, rubbed her tummy, and tried to focus on work, though most of my brain was trying to find a way to make her feel better.

- “The male unsub never went dormant. Only the female did.”- Derek said and there was a short pause.

- “So when this guy kills without his wife, his signature changes to stabbing and sexual assault.”- (Y/N) sighed after talking and she stood up to walk closer to the board and look at the crime scene pictures.

- “Well, stabbing is indicative of rage, and it's most likely towards women.”- Derek added.

- “And the sexual assault is his way of establishing dominance over them.”- Blake seemed focused, I wasn’t keeping track or paying much attention.

- “Maybe their marriage isn't as solid as we think.”- Rossi suggested- “Clearly he has issues that he's working out when the wife isn't around.”

I don’t know why Derek looked at me. I don’t know if he wanted to see if I reacted to that statement or if I was affected by it.

- “Well, if she emasculates her husband at home, that could be the reason why she now needs to have control over the murder.”- JJ proposed and Derek’s eyes could burn holes in my skull as she did.

- “Hey, guys, we have a survivor.”- my wife interrupted the moment and I moved closer to her to look at the file she was reading- “Hannah Franklin, a 23-year-old waitress who was attacked on her way home from work back in 2008.”

- “Do you have a contact number?”- Hotch asked as he looked at my wife from the other side of the room. She just nodded and grabbed the file with the information.

- “When she gets here, JJ, I need you to talk to her, and try to get as much information as possible.”

- “Can we talk? after you make that call.”- I whispered into my wife’s ear. She turned to me and nodded and in a second, she was out of the room.

- “Everything ok?”- Blake asked me and I just smiled and nodded as well.- “Everything ok with (Y/N)? She seemed a bit off yesterday.”

- “Yeah, she is ok.”- I paused and looked around for a second. - “Let me ask you this: did you guys eat anything this morning while we were out?”

- “Eat? take out?”- I nodded and Blake shook her head immediately- “This is the first meal I’ve seen since breakfast, and I nearly fainted. Why do you ask?”

- “It’s nothing, I’m just worried (Y/N) might be skipping meals.”

- “Is she still feeling sick?”

I didn’t want to tell my friend anything else about it, so I just agreed with her inference and watched my wife on the phone, just outside the room.

- “Well, being pregnant is very challenging. Your body keeps changing and whenever you feel like you are ok with the stage you have to face, your whole hormones go crazy and you lose it again.”- Blake explained and smiled at me- “She is lucky to have you. I can see you’ve been an amazing partner for her.”

- “Thank you.”- I think I blushed at those words because I knew Blake wasn’t saying that just to be polite. However, I didn’t feel like I was doing enough. I knew (Y/N) was going through something more complex than what she was sharing, and I needed to show her she could count on me.

(Y/N)’s point of view

The rush of emotions I had felt that entire day was crazy. It was my first pregnancy, and I didn’t know any better. I had no idea what was going on. One thing is reading about how much your body is gonna change and another completely different thing is feeling alienated from your own body.

I didn’t want to talk about it with Spencer. After what had happened the day before, I felt like oversharing my feelings and mental instability might drive him away. So I pretended to be ok. Which, of course, didn’t work because my husband is a genius and could read me like a book. Also, leaving my leftovers around hadn’t been very bright. I was still starving and wanted to eat what was left of my dinner. But when I looked at my swollen feet and round body, all I could think of was: you have to stop eating. Which I did.

- “Hey”- Spencer walked to me as I poured myself a cup of ginger tea- “I brought you your dinner.”

- “Thank you, honey bunny. But… I’m not hungry.”

- “You left pretty much all your sweet and sour pork, and I know you love it.”

- “Yeah, but… I’m full and despite what everybody says, I don’t have to eat for two.”- I sat down and stared at my hands as my husband followed my moves and sat next to me.

- “I know that. I’m just making sure you are getting enough nutrients and vitamins for our baby.”

- “I am, trust me. Our baby is fi…”- but before I could even finish that sentence, the weirdest and most beautiful feeling interrupted me. I opened my eyes wide and turned to Spencer. He stared at me confused and scared something was wrong. But everything was perfect.

- “What is it, chipmunk? are you ok?”- I grabbed his hand quickly and placed it on the side of my tummy- “Wh…”

- “Shh!”- I commanded and looked at him with tears in my eyes - “The baby is kicking.”

- “Wh.. wh.. are you sure?”- I couldn’t argue Spencer it was obvious I could feel a human kicking my guts from the inside out, because the baby suddenly moved and kicked again, and this time he felt it as well.

- “Oh… my… god.”- he whispered and looked at me, tears filling his eyes in a second. - “Our baby is right there.”

- “This is so weird…”- I had never even imagined what those kicks would feel like, and I wasn’t ready for them, at all. I looked at my husband, his eyes were beaming with happy tears as he kept his hand on my tummy, rubbing it and waiting for our baby to kick again.

- “That’s…”- he whispered and peered at me, analyzing my reaction - “Does it hurt?”

- “No, it’s just.. odd.”

- “Come here.”- he moved his chair closer to mine and cupped my face with both of his hands - “I love you so much, (Y/N). So, so much. I still can’t believe we are gonna have a baby.”

- “Your baby is kicking already, so you better believe it.”- I joked and he chuckled as he rubbed his lips against mine. Spencer kissed me gently and sweetly. I didn’t last long, because we were at work, but it was the kind of loving kiss that gave me a peaceful feeling in my heart.

- “Reid.”- Hotch said as he walked into the room and looked at me. It was weird at the beginning when I changed my last name and our Unit Chief started calling me by Spencer’s. Now I was used to it, though most police forces and sometimes the rest of the team were often confused.

- “We got a suspect. I need you to talk to the wife. Judith Anderson.”

- “Right away. Tell me what we have.”

I knew Hotch and Spencer were with Blake behind the window, analyzing every second of my interview with the suspect. I guessed because I was pregnant, my Unit Chief thought the unsub wouldn’t see me as a threat. I asked the cop in the interrogation room to uncuff her and sat in front of her. She was small, red-haired, and looked like she knew exactly what was happening.

- “Hi, Judith. My name is (Y/N). Can I get you anything to drink?”- I tried to be nice and welcoming.

- “I’d like to make a phone call.”- she replied right away.

- “To who? Your husband?”- I questioned her and Judith didn’t answer. - “You're coming up on your 20th anniversary. Congratulations. That is a huge accomplishment.”

Judith glued her eyes to my wedding and engagement ring for a few seconds. She didn’t say anything, she just sat there and stared at me. So I continued talking.

- “We recovered a used condom with Alan's DNA in it. Nothing odd about that, except you've had a hysterectomy. So, why use condoms if you can't conceive?”

- “You seem to know a lot. You tell me.”- Judith finally answered, and her voice was menacing. But I just shrugged and sighed, playing innocent.

- “Well, you just don't strike me as the unfaithful type. I mean, Alan, on the other hand, he's a different story.”

- “You know nothing about my husband!”- clearly I hit a sensitive nerve, ‘cos her face changed completely.

- “Well, actually, I know a lot.”- I opened my case file and started listing everything we had on them- “Let’s see. I know your husband tested positive for an STD back in 2010. You two were married in 1994, which tells me he isn't as committed to your marriage as you think.”- I made a short pause and stared at her, waiting to see if she had anything to add. And she did.

- “There was a point in time when both of us were unfaithful in our marriage. When I found out he had cheated…”

- “You thought if you retaliated it would make you feel better.”- I interrupted her, nodding, showing her I understood what had happened.

- “My husband and I no longer keep secrets. I've known he's had an STD for years. The reason we use condoms, to answer your question, is because he insists on protecting me. That's how much he loves me.”

I smiled at her and nodded again. Then, I stood up and started opening all the case files for the investigations of the murders that we knew her husband had committed.

- “I can't wait to see where this is headed.”- Judith smiled and looked at the files I was placing in front of her. I just exhaled and stood in front of her.

- “When you discovered your husband was cheating, you took away the one thing that mattered most to him. His partner in crime.”- I told her and made a short pause- “Now, how do you think he dealt with that?”- but her face didn’t make a move.

- “Do you recognize any of these women?”- Judith didn’t even look at the pictures, she just stared at me with her best poker face.

- “How many times are we gonna go through this? No, I do not.”- she wasn’t even raising her face, I wasn’t reacting to anything. So I just continued.

- “And these are only a few of the victims that he raped and murdered without you.”- finally, I could see her facade starting to shatter- “And which one do you think gave him the STD? Just take a look for yourself.”

And she finally did. She scanned the pictures right in front of her and tried to maintain her attitude.

- “His DNA is all over each of these women.”- I continued talking - “It's the killing without you that's most painful. It's the cheating that you can't forgive.”

- “You're married.”- Judith said and looked at me with cold eyes.

- “Yes, I am.”

- “Where's your husband?”

- “Standing right behind that glass.”- I replied and pointed at the one at my back.

- “Huh, so you know what it feels like to share an interest with your husband. What would happen if he were to slip up? If he is a Fed who can cover his tracks, how would you know?”- I smiled at her words and simply answered:

- “A wife knows. Which is why you know I'm telling you the truth.”

- “My husband and I aren't perfect.”

- “No marriage is, Judith, but look at these women. Look at the way he treated them.”- she closed her eyes for a moment and refused to look at the victims. Instead, she started explaining.

- “We're rebuilding step by step, brick by brick…”

- “He hates them because he hates you.”- I ignored her words, and she lost it.

- “He loves me! I want to talk to a lawyer!”

And that was the end of my interview. Luckily, we had enough to find and catch her husband before he would kill again.

- “We are rebuilding step by step”- I said as soon as I walked into the room from where Rossi and Spencer were following my interrogation- “Interesting choice of words.”

- “Oh, I've heard those many times before.”- Rossi started talking as my husband handed me a packet of cashew nuts.

- “Where?”- Spencer innocently asked David.

- “Somewhere you two will never go. Marriage counseling.”- I chuckled at those words and opened the snack my husband had given me, ‘cos I was starving.

- “That would explain how they were able to move through Alan's infidelity.”- I said as I chewed and hummed happily- “They were seeing a therapist.”

- “Maybe they still are.”- Spencer suggested and grabbed his phone.

And he was right. They were seeing a therapist to work on their issues as a couple. And Spencer profiled that the emasculation our unsub felt didn't come from his wife. It came from their therapist.

I was left at the station with Rossi and Blake, while Spencer and Morgan drove to the therapist's office, she was the last victim, and we were against time to save her life. Meanwhile, I sat in the kitchenette and swallowed my leftovers, because I was too hungry to keep living. Besides, the anxiety of having Spencer on the field dealing with a serial killer made me feel uneasy, and eating was a way to deal with it.

- “How are you feeling?”- Blake asked as she walked into the room and headed straight to the coffee machine.

- “Like I could sleep for two days. You?”- I replied and continued chewing my sweet and sour pork.

- “I just wanna spend the entire weekend in my pajamas watching movies. That would be my perfect Valentine's”- Blake answered and sat next to me. Great, I had totally forgotten about Valentine’s Day, again. - “You did great with Judith.”

- “Thank you. It was hard to remain calm knowing she was trying to protect a serial killer and a cheating bastard.”- I mumbled as I continued chewing. Alex just smiled and held her cup with both hands.

- “Hungry?”

- “Starving. I feel like Kirby.”

- “Who?”- Blake didn’t know who Kirby was, so I swallowed my food and explained in the easiest way possible.

- “It’s a videogame character, it basically eats everything in front of him. I feel like that most of the time ‘cos I am always hungry.”

- “Spencer was worried you might be skipping meals.”

- “I know.”

- “You know this is just temporary. While you have an actual human growing inside of you.”- I chuckled at Alex's explanation and nodded- “You will be who you were before.”

- “Rationally, I know that. But an irrational part of my brain takes charge of my thoughts and emotions at the worst possible moments.”- I explained to Blake, knowing she would understand. I didn’t feel like talking with many people about my feelings at that point. As I said, I felt I was losing my sanity, and I hated it when people were condescending to me just because I was pregnant.

- “You probably are. You are pregnant, it’s a complicated process.”- Blake sipped her coffee and I finished my pork. I was suddenly in the mood for some dessert, but I knew there was nothing left in my bag.

- “It’s useless to talk to you about the hormone levels changing, right?”

- “Trust me, Alex, Spencer started reading the books the second I told him I was pregnant. That means I’ve heard his talks about pregnancy for the last nineteen weeks.”- she chuckled at my words as I sighed and continued - “Knowing why it happens doesn’t help stop it from happening. And sometimes I overthink every single little thing until I feel like I’m losing my mind.”

- “You are not, (Y/N). Trust me.”- Blake smiled and caressed my hand for a second. - “We all feel like shit during the whole process, and no one but we can understand it. So, if you ever need to talk about it, I am here.”

- “Thank you.”

Spencer’s point of view

We solved the case and made it back to DC on time to spend our Valentine’s Day at home. I had reservations for (Y/N)’s favorite restaurant, but we both agreed we were too tired to leave the house, so we changed plans and decided for some delivery and relax on the couch, watching a movie.

I honestly didn’t care what we did for our Valentine’s, as long as we were together, I was always happy. But I couldn’t help but feel my wife’s disappointment with the plans, even though they had been mostly her idea. She was extra exhausted after the case and the trip, of course staying at home made perfect sense.

I filled the tub with hot water, salts, and bubbles while my wife prepared a tray with snacks to share after dinner, knowing it was most likely she’d start craving something sweet, sour, or probably both. I lit a few candles and held (Y/N)’s hand as I walked her to our bathroom.

- “What are you doing?”- she giggled as I covered her eyes and guided her through our apartment.

- “Just because we are staying at home doesn’t mean we can’t make this a romantic moment.”- I explained and uncovered her eyes.

- “Oh, honey bunny.”- she gasped as she looked at the tub, filled with bubbles. - “This is perfect.”

- “You deserve a moment to relax.”

- “Are you gonna get into that tub with me?”- she asked and I nodded.

- “Anything you want.”

We brought two cups of peppermint tea and got in before the water got cold. (Y/N) hummed in satisfaction as she sank, and I sat right behind her, feeling her back resting against my chest. I kissed her neck and wrapped my arms around her, my hands took a second to find her tummy, and I started caressing it right away.

- “Wanna know something embarrassing?”- I whispered in her ear and she nodded immediately.- “Ever since you told me you were pregnant, I’ve been scared you are gonna blame me for making you go through all those changes and awkward moments.”

- “I could never blame you… I was as horny as you were when we did this, and we both wanted to have a kid.”- she whispered and though I couldn’t see her face, I knew she was smiling.

- “I know pregnancy has been getting more challenging.”- I said after a moment - “I just want you to know I’m here. And nothing will ever change that.”- she didn’t say a word, I just felt her sigh and saw her fingers play with the bubbles around her. It took a few minutes until my wife finally opened up about what she was going through.

- “You know how people always say our story is like a fairy tale?”

- “They do?”- I questioned surprised.

- “Every single time I tell people our story, they think it’s fanfiction or a fairy tale.”- (Y/N) made a pause, probably picking the right words to explain her mind. - “I know you loved me for years before we started dating. The same way I loved you in silence. I know you waited for me, you took care of me, you were always there.”

- “And I will always be.”- I whispered and kissed her temple.

- “That’s what I keep doubting now. I’m sorry.”- her voice was barely perceptible.

- “But what makes you doubt me?”

- “It’s not you.”- my wife replied before I could even finish asking, - “I just feel like… you deserve better than me.”

I felt my heart shatter with those words, ‘cos how could anyone be better than her? How could anyone make me feel the things she did? No one else had that smile that made me feel weak in the knees since the day I met her. She was the only woman on earth I wanted. And I had always felt like she deserved better than me.

- “How could I ever think that way when I have the most perfect, smart, and gorgeous woman on earth here in this tub with me?”- I murmured, holding her tight against me and peeping kisses on her cheek and neck.

- “Spencer…”- I hated when she called me by my name outside work. It always meant she was being serious.

- “Mrs. Reid, trust me when I tell you, nothing will change the way I feel for you right here, right now.”- She moved from my arms and turned in the tub to look at me. - “I dreamed of this life with you for so long, I will do whatever it takes to keep you by my side and make you happy.”

- “I feel like I’m going insane, hon. I yelled at you in the car the other day because you didn’t reply to my texts. That’s not me! And I’m jealous of JJ ‘cos she looks gorgeous after having a baby and I feel like a whale. And I can’t stop eating, I try to stop, but I’m hungry all the time, and moody and my feet are swollen already and I’m just nineteen weeks pregnant!”

Tears fell from her eyes as she continued talking and I carefully wiped them away from her cheeks with my thumb.

- “Look at me, I can’t believe I am crying over this! I cry all the time now! Why does everything make me so emotional? Stupid hormones!”

- “I am so in love with you, nothing will ever change that. I will love you until my very last day and most likely, from beyond my grave. So trust me, please.”- I whispered and cupped her cheeks with both my hands, staring into her eyes as I spoke.

- “I feel like if I tell you everything that happens inside my head, you will run away from me.”

- “Never.”- I rubbed my lips against her and kissed her, sweet and slowly, feeling her whole body relaxing.

- “I’m sorry”- she whispered and rested her forehead against mine.

- “You have nothing to apologize for, chipmunk. Did you know that some studies suggest that as many as 90% of new mothers experience unwanted thoughts related to their child during pregnancy or shortly after birth?”- my wife smiled as I kissed her one more time.

- “I love it when you drop statistics.”

- “I have more.”- I replied and heard her chuckling, one of my favorite sounds.

- “Can’t say I’m surprised.”

- “But instead of statistics, I was thinking you should just lay here against me again and I could read to you for a little. What do you think?”

- “I don’t deserve you.”- my wife whispered and I shook my head immediately.

- “You deserve everything I can do to make you happy, ‘cos you make me the happiest I ever dreamed I could be, ok?”- she sobbed and nodded. I kissed her again and then helped her move back to her original position in that tub, lying against my chest. I grabbed a book from the side of the bathtub, kissed her temple one more time, and started reading “Wuthering Heights” for her. 

Series' Masterlist - Author's masterlist

Previous chapter | Next chapter

[nana-mania]

“EXPECTING” she delivered a surprise to him

╰┈➤: ̗̀➛ oneshot

࿐*ೃ feat : jinpachi ego

࿐*ೃ fandom : blue lock

࿐*ೃ extra : fem! reader, fluff

╰┈➤: ̗̀➛ THE Blue Lock facility was just as imposing and intense as you remembered. Even with the countless visits you'd made to see Jinpachi Ego, your husband, the atmosphere inside never failed to make you feel like you were stepping into some grand, high-stakes war room. It was eerily quiet today, though. You guessed that meant the boys were out on the field, which made sense since Jinpachi was holed up in the observation room, glued to the giant screens monitoring each of their movements.

"Hey, Jin," you called out as you saunter into the room, casually leaning against the doorframe. Your voice cut through the silence, and you watched as his head snapped toward you, the ever-present dark circles under his eyes looking more prominent than usual. His focus wavered for just a moment, and you relished that little distraction.

"Shouldn't you be off doing something other than lounging around watching a bunch of sweaty teenagers kick a ball?" you teased, eyeing him up and down. As always, his fashion choices were... questionable at best. His lanky figure was dressed in his usual casual attire-black shirt, jeans, and the bolo tie that seemed to have permanently attached itself to his neck. His Crocs squeaked as he turned in his chair to face you fully, hands still poised over his tablet.

Jinpachi pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose, raising an eyebrow at your entrance. "Shouldn't you be doing something more productive than pestering me in the middle of my life's work?"

You scoffed, flicking your hair over your shoulder. "Oh, please. Like I'd miss out on an opportunity to make fun of you. I mean, you're practically a caricature of a soccer coach at this point."

He narrowed his eyes, as if considering a comeback, but ultimately shrugged, his focus already returning to the monitors in front of him. "What brings you here, anyway? Don't you have things to do?"

"Oh, I do," you said. "But I figured I'd do my civic duty and check on my poor, neglected husband. Make sure you're still alive and not buried under a pile of instant noodle cups."

"Your concern is touching," he deadpanned, eyes still glued to the screen, tracking a particular player. "I haven't died of malnutrition yet, so you can stop worrying. Now, unless you have an actual reason for being here-"

You rolled your eyes, but a mischievous grin tugged at the corners of your lips. The banter was fun, sure, but you hadn't come here just for that. This was a big moment, and the anticipation of revealing your news made your palms slightly sweaty.

"I have a reason," you admitted, stepping further into the room. You dug into your bag and pulled out a small plastic bag, nonchalantly tossing it onto his desk. Jinpachi didn't even look at it at first, too busy tapping something on his screen. Typical.

It took a few seconds before he glanced down at the bag. His hand froze mid-tap. His eyes flickered back and forth between the plastic bag and your face, obviously confused.

"What is this?" he asked flatly, eyebrows furrowing together in that adorably clueless way that you found so endearing.

You couldn't help the smirk that spread across your face as you crossed your arms, waiting for him to connect the dots. He was smart, but you knew he wouldn't get it right away.

"Well, dear genius husband of mine, I'd think it's pretty obvious."

His eyes narrowed again, this time studying the contents more closely. The realization started to dawn, and you saw his eyebrows lift just slightly. "Who's carrying the demon spawn?"

You nearly burst out laughing, but you managed to keep your composure long enough to reply. "Me, you idiot."

There was a brief moment of silence as Jinpachi just stared at you. His face, which usually bore the expression of someone who had seen too much in life, remained completely blank. Then, without missing a beat, he leaned back in his chair, folding his arms. "Sucks to be you."

You let out a loud laugh, almost doubling over at the audacity. "Seriously? That's your reaction? 'Sucks to be you'? Unbelievable."

But he wasn't done. "Well, it's not my body that has to go through nine months of hell," he stated, almost smugly, though you could tell from the twitch in his cheek that he was just as stunned as you expected him to be. His cool exterior was probably the only thing stopping him from actually freaking out.

You rolled your eyes and walked over to him, leaning down to pinch his cheek-hard. "Listen here, you smug noodle-loving stick figure, you are not going to miss out on this. Every appointment, every scan, every time the doctor tells us what to expect-you're coming with me."

He winced slightly at the pinch but didn't pull away. "What if I'm busy shaping Japan's future soccer geniuses?" he quipped, though there was a hint of uncertainty in his voice now.

"Nope. Don't care," you responded, releasing his cheek but poking his shoulder for emphasis. "You are not skipping a single thing. We're in this together, Jinpachi."

He glanced away, scratching his neck-a tell-tale sign that he was annoyed, or more likely in this case, unsure how to process the information. "Fine," he muttered, his tone nonchalant, but you knew him well enough to catch the way his fingers curled just a little tighter around the tablet. "I'll come. Just don't expect me to, I don't know, do yoga or something ridiculous."

You snorted. "Yeah, like I'm going to let you anywhere near a yoga mat. I can barely trust you with a fork."

He gave you a dry look, but there was a faint smirk on his lips now.

You knew he was internally processing the magnitude of the news, even as he tried to play it cool. Jinpachi was never one to show too much emotion, especially not in a high-stakes environment like this. You could almost see the gears turning in his head, calculating how this would affect his meticulously structured life.

"Seriously, though," you spoke, trying to shift the mood a little, "I know this is a lot, but think about it. You'll have someone to mold into a future soccer star. It will take a while though."

He raised an eyebrow, an incredulous look crossing his face. "Mold? Is that really the word you want to use? I'd prefer 'cultivate' or 'develop.'"

You laughed again, shaking your head. "Whatever you want to call it, you know you'll be a great dad. Just look at how you handle the players here."

"Yeah, by constantly pushing them to their limits. I'm not sure that's the best parenting method."

"Oh, come on!" you shot back, amused. "It's either that or be a total softie. I'm sure we can balance it out. You can be the tough love dad while I take care of the cuddles."

He rolled his eyes but you could see the corners of his mouth twitching again. "That's a terrifying thought, honestly."

"Yeah? Well, get used to it. This is happening." You leaned down and pressed a kiss to his cheek. "You're going to be a dad, and I can't wait for you to experience all the joys-and chaos-that come with it."

His expression softened for just a moment as he regarded you, the seriousness of the situation creeping into his usual façade of confidence. "I suppose there are worse things than being a dad," he admitted, almost begrudgingly. "I just hope this kid doesn't inherit my inability to function outside of soccer."

You chuckled, the warmth of the moment settling around you. "I think we both know they'll be a soccer prodigy with you as their dad. But maybe we can throw in some art classes or something, just to balance it out?"

He scrunched his nose in distaste. "Art? Ugh. I don't feel like producing a piece of art."

You nudged him playfully. "See, this is what I mean! You need to open your horizons. You can't just be all soccer all the time. What about cooking classes?"

"Cooking classes? Are you serious?" he asked incredulously. "If I wanted to poison our child, I'd just let them eat my cooking."

"Oh, don't act like you can't cook." you challenged, smirking at him. "You're just too stubborn to learn anything outside of instant noodles."

"Instant noodles are an art form," he shot back, crossing his arms defensively. "Besides, if it's not in my contract, it's not my concern."

You rolled your eyes again, though your heart swelled with affection for him. His quirks and stubbornness were part of what made him so uniquely him. "Well, I think you'll have to make some adjustments in your schedule, Mister 'Nothing but soccer.'"

He sighed dramatically, though the corners of his mouth curled upward. "I'll think about it," he said, his voice dry as ever. But you noticed that glint in his eye, the one he always got when he was secretly pleased with something.

"Thinking about it isn't good enough," you countered, narrowing your eyes playfully as you leaned in closer. "You're going to be there for all of it. And when our kid asks you for help with their homework, you better know the answer. No slacking off with the whole 'I only care about soccer' excuse."

"No, you'll do the teaching."

You almost choked on your breath. "What a nightmare..imagine ME, teaching math? Do you want me to fail our child?"

You poked him in the ribs, enjoying the rare moment where you could tease him into a corner. "You better brush up. No instant noodles or spreadsheets will save you when that time comes."

Jinpachi sighed theatrically, pushing his glasses up again, a smirk barely visible at the corners of his lips. "I'll consider it a challenge. Though, I'm not responsible if our child grows up with a warped sense of humor."

"Oh, please," you snorted. "With me as their mom, they'll be perfectly balanced. It's you I'm worried about. You're going to corrupt them with your twisted soccer fanaticism."

He tilted his head, fixing you with a mock-serious stare. "And what, exactly, would be wrong with that?"

"Everything," you replied, matching his intensity. "Because if you think I'm going to sit through endless hours of soccer drills, you've got another thing coming. I'll make sure they're into something else, too. Maybe theater or art, just to mess with you."

The idea visibly made Jinpachi twitch. "Our child doing theater... Horrifying."

You grinned wickedly. "Exactly. And you'll love it."

Jinpachi shook his head, but the fondness in his eyes couldn't be mistaken. You could see it now, peeking through the cracks of his cool exterior. He wasn't just some cold, calculating football genius; he was also the man you fell in love with-quirky, egotistical, yes, but full of hidden warmth that he saved just for you.

A comfortable silence settled between you both for a moment. The only sound in the room was the faint hum of the monitors and the occasional scribble of his stylus on the tablet. You stood there, watching him work for a bit.

You were going to have a baby-his baby. You weren't sure what kind of father Jinpachi would be, but you knew one thing for certain: he would approach it with the same passion he had for everything else.

After a few minutes, you finally broke the silence. "So, when do you think you'll be free to come to the first appointment?" you asked, keeping your tone light but serious.

He glanced up at you, pushing his glasses up again-a nervous habit of his when he was thinking. "I'll make time," he said simply, almost nonchalantly, though you could tell he meant it. "I'm not missing it. I'll put it in my calendar. Between strategy meetings, of course."

You raised an eyebrow. "Between strategy meetings? Really? You're prioritizing strategy over me and your future child?"

"Don't twist my words," he shot back, smirking. "I'll be there. I can multitask."

"Sure, sure," you teased, though you knew he would keep his word. "And make sure to bring something that isn't noodles when we go. I'm not sharing my snacks with you."

He made a face, clearly displeased by the thought. "You're cruel."

You couldn't help but laugh, the sound filling the room. "I'm just preparing you for parenthood, Jinpachi. You'll have to learn to share eventually."

He rolled his eyes but couldn't hide the small smile tugging at his lips. "You're really enjoying this, aren't you?"

"Oh, absolutely," you replied, grinning. "I'm going to hold this over your head for the rest of your life."

Jinpachi sighed, leaning back in his chair again. "Of course you are."

You placed a hand on your stomach. It wasn't just about teasing him or watching him squirm, though that was always a fun bonus. You were building a life together, and this was just the beginning of something incredible.

"Ready for the ride, Jin?" you asked, a soft smile on your lips as you looked at him.

He glanced over at you. There was something real and sincere in his eyes, a flicker of emotion that he rarely let anyone see.

"Yeah," he said quietly, nodding. "I think I am."

You smiled, feeling the warmth spread through your chest. "Good. Because I'm not doing this alone."

He let out a quiet chuckle, shaking his head. "As if I'd let you. I'll be there... every step of the way."

"Damn right you will be," you said, though your tone was softer now, more affectionate. You stepped closer, gently resting a hand on his shoulder, and he placed his own hand over yours.

Jinpachi squeezed your hand gently, his eyes meeting yours with an intensity that caught you off guard. You could feel the warmth of his hand on yours, grounding you in the moment.

"You know," you murmured, stepping in closer, your voice low as you brushed a hand across his cheek. "I'm not always sassy."

He raised an eyebrow, the corner of his mouth twitching into a smirk. "Really? I've never seen the evidence."

"Shut up," you whispered, though you were smiling as you said it. "I'm trying to be sentimental here."

Jinpachi let out a small chuckle, but there was a tenderness in his expression that you rarely saw. He lifted his hand from your shoulder to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing against your skin in a way that made your heart skip a beat. It was such a simple gesture, yet from him, it carried so much meaning. Jinpachi was a man of few overt affections, but when he did show them, they were undeniable.

Slowly, he leaned down toward you, his movements almost cautious, as if he were afraid to break the moment. You felt your breath hitch in your throat as his face drew closer, your heart pounding in your chest. And then, with a gentleness that contrasted sharply with his usual brashness, his lips met yours.

The kiss was soft, tender-unlike the sharp-edged banter you usually exchanged. His lips were warm against yours, and for a moment, the world around you disappeared. His hand on your cheek was steady, grounding you, while your own hands found their way to the back of his neck, pulling him just a little closer.

You could feel the warmth of his body against yours, his long fingers brushing the nape of your neck as he deepened the kiss, still slow, still deliberate. It was the kind of kiss that felt like a promise.

When he finally pulled back, his forehead rested gently against yours, both of you breathing a little heavier than before. His hand lingered on your cheek, his thumb still softly stroking your skin. Jinpachi's glasses had slightly fogged up from the closeness, but he didn't bother adjusting them this time.

"Sucks to be us, huh?" he murmured, his voice teasing but quieter than usual, as if he were afraid to break the delicate moment.

You smiled, still catching your breath, your fingers lightly tracing the back of his neck. "Yeah. Guess we're stuck together now."

"Not the worst fate," he replied, his smirk returning but his eyes soft.

You pulled him in for another kiss, this one quicker but just as sweet, before you leaned back, a playful grin tugging at your lips. "And just so you know, that baby's going to love theater. Deal with it."

Jinpachi groaned, rolling his eyes dramatically, but there was a fondness there that you couldn't miss. "Fine. But only if you handle it. I'll take care of soccer practice."

"Deal," you said, feeling a warmth spread through your chest.

As you stood there, wrapped in his arms, you knew that whatever the future held, you would face it together.

࿐*ೃ thanks for reading this short scenario! likes, interaction and reblogs are deeply appreciated ♡