#the pool he's in would probably be bigger than that but its way too late im not going back to change it

[sirenspells]

[Amnesiac Omori AU]

The day before Omori appears in the real world, Sunny has a dream that is totally normal and totally doesn't mean anything :3

[silverflame2724]

Run Rabbit Run Rabbit AU

A-Yuan accidentally triggers a experimental talisman near the blood pool and is transformed into a bunny as witnessed by Wei Wuxian. It's easily reversed but Wei Wuxian realises the talisman is reusable and has a Idea.

A month later as the cultivation world panics over the disappearance of Wei Wuxian and the Wen Remnants, on a totally unrelated note Lan Wangji is puzzling over the sudden appearance of 30ish raggedy half starved Bunnies in the Gusa back hills.

Because let's be honest those fluffballs are spoilt rotten and live better lives than the Wen Remnants and the Wen Remnants deserve a bit of spoiling.

Lan Wangji decidedly refuses to exorcise the Fierce Corpse Bunny because its harmless and a timid sweetie, also they're rabbits. It's Lan Wangji's opinion that If a fluffy bunny comes back to life and tries to kill you then clearly you deserve anything and everything that's coming to you.

Wei Wuxian probably reveals himself at some point to Lan Wangji, probably because Lan Wangji confesses his love for the missing Wei Wuxian in front of bunny Wei Wuxian who drops the transformation out of shock.

Takes place after Lan Wangji's visit to Yiling.

____________________________

Wen Qing was going to bury him six feet under once she found out what he’d done. Not to say that it was his fault! He was trying out some new talismans and A’ Yuan just happened to come into his cave. Now normally, Wei Wuxian would drop everything to go play with his previous radish but he was so close to finishing his idea that he gave A’ Yuan some random paper to draw on to keep him busy.

“Ow!” A’ Yuan cried as his finger was pricked against a sharp rock. Wei Wuxian watched as his blood dropped onto a talisman that had been stuck to the back of the paper and activate.

“Shit! A’ Yuan!!” Wei Wuxian scrambled to try and stop the talisman but it was too late.

When the glow from the talisman cleared. A’ Yuan was nowhere to be found. However…..a bunny took his place.

Wei Wuxian blinked. “A’ Yuan?” He asked slowly.

The bunny nodded.

Wei Wuxian sat slowly down and brought the bunny A’ Yuan to his lap. He needed to process for a bit.

He picked up the talisman that had just activated and quickly wrote down the design of it.

Animal transformation.

How had he not thought of this before?! With this, the Wens could escape from this place and be safe! Cause no one would think to look for bunnies. But…where could they go? There had to be a place that they could survive in. Bunnies were prey animals so they were often hunted by bigger predators.

Suddenly, a voice rang in his head. Pets are forbidden.

Gusu.

If they went there, where animals were scarce, then maybe….they could survive.

It was a gamble. But they were living on borrowed time anyways.

Wen Qing walked into the cave just as a plan cemented in his mind. She looked around and seemed like she was about to scold him when he sprung the plan on her.

She was quiet for a bit, then asked two things.

One, if Wen Ning could be transformed. And two, where was A’ Yuan?

To the first question, Wei Wuxian called Wen Ning right away and it worked pretty well. To the second, he wrote a reversing talisman placed it on both Wen Ning and A’ Yuan and hid behind Wen Ning to avoid the needles.

Wen Qing yelled at him for being careless with his talismans but agreed to bring the plan up with the others.

“And make sure to improve the talisman do we could choose when to become human or bunny. It’ll be difficult to have one of us constantly stay human in order to write up the reversing talismans.”

Wei Wuxian agreed - but only for the reversing to be done by him, Wen Qing, and Wen Ning. It was safer that way. - and got right to work.

……………………

Three days later, Wei Wuxian bought new robes to disguise himself and brought the Wen remnants turned bunnies to Gusu. It was easy enough to break through their wards and transport the bunnies every so often as he couldn’t take all of them in one go. It took a few weeks to get them all transferred but it was done. Luckily, it seemed like there was already a bunny warren near Lan Wangji’s house.

With his notes and inventions safely buried underneath Lan Wangji’s house, Wei Wuxian turned himself into a bunny and happily hopped around his new home.

………………………….

Lan Wangji returned from his recent night hunt only to see a multitude of new bunnies that had somehow appeared overnight.

It seemed like they had moved due to sparse food due to how thin they all looked. Lan Wangji immediately went to the kitchens to ask for some rabbit food and got to feeding them all and building a bigger burrow for them.

As he returned he noticed how one of them looked odd. Like it was too stiff or something. He picked up the rabbit and realized that it was an undead. Despite this, Lan Wangji did not purify the poor thing. Because if a bunny held such resentment towards you that it came back to life just to kill you, then you probably deserve it.

In any case, there were a ton more bunnies abound and Lan Wangji basked in their fluffiness for a good shichen.

He was content.

......................................

Until he wasn't.

It had been a month since the bunnies arrived and Lan Wangji recently got the news that Wei Ying and the Wens had disappeared from the Burial Mounds.

Apparently, a Jin disciple had passed by the Mounds and while there was usually a barrier to ward off intruders, nothing was there except for some decaying houses.

Everyone was in a panic not knowing where they went and soon a hunt was organized for them. Lan Wangji was angered by this, knowing that Wei Ying had done no wrong.

He stomped to the bunny fields and aggressively but gently pet a bunch of the bunnies.

"Those people--" He hissed. "Xiongzhang too! I cannot believe he would just....ignore my words! I told him. I told him the truth about the Wen Remnants Wei Ying rescued and he would still believe Jin Guangyao over me!"

A cold nose bumped against his cheek. The black bunny he'd been petting perhaps sensed his turmoil and nuzzled against him. He petted the adorable thing more.

Lan Wangji sighed angrily. "Why does Xiongzhang not believe me?" He whispered mournfully. "I'm not my father. I don't--I'm not--"

The bunny in his arms chirped and a bunch of other bunnies piled on top of him. Lan Wangji soon forgot about his angers and simply fell asleep buried in the warmth. It's not like he has anything else to do today.

.....................................

Wei Wuxian was amazed. Wow. Lan Zhan talks so much to his bunny friends.

It had been a year or so since then and Wei Wuxian and the Wens had regained their lost weight, enjoying the rabbit food - mainly vegetables - that they've been given. Perhaps because of his rabbit form or because he hadn't had good food in years, he quite enjoyed these meals without complaint.

Wei Wuxian received news of the outside world from Lan Zhan and his various complaints and sighed in relief that the search for them had stopped. But Lan Zhan...... He sighed, his heart warming. Lan Zhan really did his best to support him. Wei Wuxian had never though Lan Zhan would go so far for him. But perhaps he should have expected it. Lan Zhan was too good.

But.....he seemed sad recently.

A year after Wei Wuxian had "disappeared" from the world, Lan Wangji began playing sad songs on his guqin and sighing Wei Wuxian's name mournfully. He sometimes even played that song he played Wei Wuxian in the Xuanwu cave and Wei Wuxian didn't know why his heart ached so much.

He wanted to comfort Lan Wangji in his human form and tell him that everything would be alright, but he couldn't risk being seen. He could only do his best to smother his in bunny fluff.

It was always seemed to make Lan Zhan smile.

......

Lan Wangji finally confessed what he was worrying about two years later. He plopped down gracefully in the bunny field and Wei Wuxian hopped towards him. He was subsequently picked up and give the best pets ever when Lan Wangji spoke.

"If I knew he would leave the cultivation world for good, I shouldn't have been afraid to say all that I wanted to say to him.”

Wei Wuxian titled his bunny head at him.

“I should have told Wei Ying that I loved him. That all I wanted to do was take him back here and protect him."

Wei Wuxian.exe stopped working for a good few minutes. Then he rebooted and felt his body heat up as his mind filtered through a series of ????? and ?!!!!! and !!!!!!!.

Lan Zhan......Lan Zhan likes- no, loves me?! In that way????? How long???

And then.

I have a chance? Then his mind computed what he just thought of and flushed red. No. No, no, no. It couldn't be that I......I like him too? But, I mean, it makes sense. I obsessed over him so much in my youth and was even so worried about being on his bad side. But....ahhhhh! What do I do? What should I say? I wasn't prepared to hear anything like this!

Wei Wuxian was so deep into his own panic that he didn't see the stiffening of Lan Wangji's hands as his transformation was undone. He only realized when Lan Wangji spoke in a cracked voice, "Wei Ying?"

Wei Wuxian looked down at Lan Wangji from where he was perched in in lap and promptly combusted. "A-Ah, Lan Zhan. Funny seeing you here, hahaha....."

"Wei Ying?" Lan Wangji looked so confused that Wei Wuxian would have pinched his cheeks had he been less panicked. "What--How?"

Wei Wuxian was caught. "Ah....well, it's a bit of a long story."

Lan Wangji stared at him, unblinking.

"Umm, so. This is what happened....." Wei Wuxian had distracted Lan Wangji with the journey so far but he knew he would eventually have to talk to Lan Wangji about what he heard and about his own feelings.

But for now, Wei Wuxian settled himself comfortably in Lan Wangji's lap and spoke.

[kanamori-kamper-moved]

🍽️ Dinner date Thunderstruckshipping?

Thanks for sending an ask!

Ask game

⟢

— Take me, don’t leave me

Pairing: Roa Kirishima/Kassidy x Tyler Getz/Taira Getta (Thunderstruckshipping)

Warnings: The ship in itself is like. So toxic (to me at least!!!!). So that requires a warning within itself. Also they kiss a little, and Roa makes a few promiscuous comments at the start. It’s nothing serious, there’s no sex of course because that’s weird lmao…, but just letting you know. That’s about it lol

Notes: This ended up being like. Way longer than I wanted it to be. I got carried away and had too much fun with it. AAGHHH I LOVE TOXIC YAOI!!! And as usual, they aren’t 11 here for obvious reasons. My ideals version of Sevens is where their like. Young adults (I wanna say 18-21ish?) so take that as you will. And just as a side note, I use Gettas sub and dub name interchangeably!!

Roa doesn’t like cooking, he never has, and Getta knows this well. He can barely make a scrambled egg. It seems like both him and Romin are awful with cooking, truly. He remembers when he was trying to cook for the whole band after a gig, and since it was late no place they liked was open. And of course, they all insisted on helping.

That was hell, he swore.

“Romin, you know that when the recipe calls for wine.. you’re supposed to put it into the pan, and not you.. right?”

“Don’t tell me what to do! I know what I’m doing.” Her words are slurred, as Getta would expect.

It wasn’t even the worst of it. Ushiro had about enough garlic that they’d ward away any vampire who stepped within 4 miles of the house.

“Just. Leave the cooking to me, alright?”

Getta truly doesn’t mind, he’s always liked cooking. Not everyone can manage, after all. But here he is, its the middle of the day. Roa invited him over to his impossibly expensive condo that probably cost an arm and a leg alone. It was just the usual for most days when they weren’t performing someplace. But, there’s something awful that’s plaguing the visit. Roa just won’t stop moaning and whining about how hungry he is.

“Getta-chan, I’m hungry!” Even while pouting, his voice remains so sickeningly sweet and smooth.

“You’re an adult. You can get something from the pantry.” After all, it was bigger than his own tiny kitchen, and stocked with all the things Roa loved, like his freezer which was mostly made up of fancy ice stuffed with strawberries and lemons (and one singular carton of butter pecan ice cream), salted caramel chocolates and bonbons, champagne (which Getta loved the smell of, but never the taste), freshly picked fruit, and strangely enough, far too many leftovers from the time Romin made (oddly, blue) curry.

“Mmph. No, not vibing with any of it.” He dramatically sighs, torso hanging from the head of the couch, “You’ve got so much stuff in here, what do you mean?”

“I know but-“ Roa pauses, he tries to vocalize it but nothing comes out just right, “I dunno how to explain it. And before you say anything, like hell I’m eating Romins curry.” That last bit was absolutely dipped in poison-laden bitterness.

“I don’t know what you like, you tell me.” Tyler finally gets up from the counter and sits next to Roa, who’s now shifted to lay his head on his lap.

“What do I like? Oh, don’t make me think too hard.” He sighs once more, “I think.. I like one thing… I like you.” Roa pulls him closer, smiling sweetly. That smile is poisoning him, ever so slowly. “I think I know what I’m hungry for now.” Roa is up to something, he knows it. But, he doesn’t know what yet, so Getta responds with a light ‘Hm?’, “Take off those clothes, please. Just for me, Getta-chan..”

Those words pierce him. Hard.

“W-What?” Gettas voice is becoming shakier, Roa straddles him, sitting on his lap and looking at his lover directly. His eyes are pretty pools of deep amethyst, he’s being hypnotized.

“Get out of those clothes, Getta-chan…” He rubs his against partly muscular chest, the nickname makes him gulp. Getta should stop lying; It’s not muscular, really. All it is, is just his soft tummy that Roa seems to adore so much. “So..” Roa rubs his shoulders, kissing his cheek. Tyler is flushed beyond belief.

“So what?”

“So you can get up and get dressed, we’re going out to eat!” The pink in his cheeks immediately fades. “What the- what the hell is wrong with you?!”

“What? Do you not wanna go out to eat? It’ll be nice, I’ll pay!” And he can’t seem to say no, Getta hates how he’s come to be a doormat.

But Getta won’t argue, he’s not in the mood for it. He has to go change, anyway. Gettas lucky he’s left so many of his clothes here. Escorting himself to the bathroom with a handful of clothes, he sighs. He wonders desperately as to why he gets so weak in the knees whenever Roa teases him, or just calls him a simple, “Getta-chan”. The pinups of cute girls in lingerie with flowy hair on Roas shower curtain mock him, calling him a sucker. Maybe he is a sucker.

Just maybe.

-

The drive to the place comes without any issue. Roa insists on getting an Uber, even when Getta is sure that driving isn’t an issue.

“Shoosh! don’t drive, Getta-chan.” He places a perfectly manicured finger on his boyfriends lips. “It’s my job to spoil you, not the other way around!” Getta doesn’t question it. The only way for things to go well with Roa is to give him exactly what he want, after all.

Getta doesn’t know why he feels so jealous when the driver notices who they are and asks for an autograph. Such a queer feeling. (As in strange, of course.)

It’s a nice little steakhouse, and Getta is lucky that no one’s recognized them here, too. Can you really be considered an indie band if so many people can recognize you just from a glance? He doesn’t know, he doesn’t think about it too hard. The setting is ambient and filled with the sounds of smooth jazz and light talking from its patrons, flowers and candles adorning every table.

They get a table, and the waiter pours them sparkling water. Gettas never liked water, much less sparkling water. It tastes like TV static, the texture bothers him. Lots of textures bother him, honestly. Getta just has black jeans and a jeans jacket on, and even though it’s appropriate attire for this restaurant, he feels so utterly naked next to Roa.

“Why so quiet, Getta-chan?” Roa softly asks, holding his soft hands in Getta’s hard, rough hands. He’s always enjoyed doing that, it’s one of the things Getta likes. “Nothing, it’s just that we don’t go on dates as often as we used to.”

They really hadn’t. Ever since RoaRomin took off, there was barely time for such a thing. Someone always noticed them and it had to be cut short, someone was busy, Roa and Getta broke up for the 15th time and absolutely hated each others guts only to come back to each other a week later, whatever. But, this seemed so magical to the both of them.

They spend the whole night talking, Getta doesn’t want it to end. He remembered when they first got together, how euphoric it felt to him, this was almost similar.

“We can get a steak to share, if you want. I don’t mind sharing.”

“That would be lovely, Getta-chan.” There’s that smile again, he’s invading his heart again, like he’s done so many times before. No matter how much he tries to say that he hates Roa, that he’ll never love him again, he always comes running back to that beautiful smile of his.

The time is passing by so quickly, in no time the the food is already here. Roa cuts a peice out of the overly expensive meat and lifts up his fork to Getta’s mouth.

“What are you doing? I can feed myself, Y’know.” There is no malice, Getta remains playful. “I know, but it’s cute when I feed you.”

“I guess you’re right.” Getta coos, eating from his fork. “Hey, can you kiss me-“

“Oh my goodness! Is that Roa Kirishima?” Shrieks a woman outside. They have a window seat, so pretty much anyone can see them together. Getta’s blood runs cold. Does it have to end here. “Hm?” Roa perks up, just another one of his princesses, the both of them know it. He’s waving lightly and smiling, just as girls clamor and gather by the window.

“What were you saying?”

“Can you kiss me?”

“Patience, Getta-chan. Don’t wanna cause a scandal.” Roa chides him, still waving, yet partly looking off to the side, “What’s scandalous about you being my boyfriend?”

“Nothing, of course! It would just break the hearts of my princesses, you know.” Parasocial. So parasocial.

“Whatever. We can just take the rest home.” Getta gets the bill, and Roas so busy signing autographs outside that he doesn’t even pay like he said he would earlier. He hates that about him, he never seems to stick to his promises.

Getta goes home alone that night, Roa is probably busy with his princesses. His phone lights up, with a text from Roa.

“Don’t be mad, Getta-chan ❤︎ xoxo”

He really wishes he got that kiss. Or better yet, just stayed inside.

[faiwiezz]

👑 - I’m very, very interested in ur answer. pls go offer some explanation:)

🌻 - my hair is long so lmk :)) (although I recently cut off more than a foot to donate)

🌈 - vv important. (don’t let this sway ur answer, but the way you call me ***** makes me 🫠)

🫐 - the way you have me on the polar extremes of what I want to do to you

🍭 - <3

🧃 - <33

🍯 -

🫖 -

🕯️- I know of half the answer, but the other half is vv important

🩹- .?

🧺 - !!

🧴- do go into detail. faewie thoughts <333

🧸 - .?

🎀 - <3

👑- hmmm this one is really hard, but it might be my size kink. idk if that really counts, but i’d rather salivate over a guy who’s so much bigger than me than anything else tbh. or is that technically a fetish? if not that, intox play probably. most of the times i’ve fucked i was either high or crossed

🌻- my head lost all its feeling tbh, so if i have tangles it’s not gonna hurt. the struggle of having long hair when you were little… i’m trying to grow it back out!! but i’d like to think i’m good at brushing hair, so i’d brush my partner’s hair :3 and braid it if they let me

🌈- this is really difficult tbh, bc i love all of them. i use them all interchangeably but it’s really between daddy or dada. daddy is easier to say, but dada feels weird to say for me for some reason. so probably daddy, but i’d use all of them :3

🫐- ohhhh this is so hard, but i’d rather be degraded super hard then pampered afterwards

🍭- hmmm probably big sweater. whether it’s an actual sweater, sweatshirt, or a hoodie. it’s basically a big wearable blanket if it’s big enough :3

🧃- definitely fuzzy socks, my feet get way too hot in any kind of slippers

��- another hard one, bc i honestly love drawing. but for coloring, i love me a huge box of crayons :3

🫖- i hate the heat so definitely fall/winter, unless it’s like to a water park or a pool or something, bc i love the water :3

🕯️- i do sleep with stuffed animals, and i used to sleep with a nightlight when i was little, but i need darkness nowadays. but if i was gifted a cute nightlight i’d probably use it

🩹- hard choice but probably getting my food cut up, i like my sandwiches cut into four triangles :3

🧺- definitely dumbification, i love being talked down to like the little kid i am, even tho i’m fairly smart lol

🧴- oh yes, definitely. i really like somno, i’m a heavy sleeper so i’d love to see how long it would take for me to wake up. or taking a walk through the woods late at night, knowing i’m being followed, and it’s just a matter of when he finds and catches me :3 or just relaxing at home and having an “intruder” sneak in and taking advantage of me :3

🧸- mainly just stuffed animals, but i’d love an adorable sippy cup :3

🎀- i’m in between tbh, but i’m more sexual than anything, i really need someone who can put me in little space so i can just be baby :3

JESUS CHRIST THAT WAS SO MANY, i’m impressed i finished it lol. also i’m giving you an emoji and you can’t complain abt what it is >:3

[sukirichi]

closer | gojo satoru x reader

a/n: aaah my first ask and it’s a request! thanks so much this is so kind and sweet of you 🥺 and here it is! I’m not sure if it’s exactly what you wanted but I hope you like it anyway! 

summary: in which Gojo has the need to be closer to you after a long day of hard work

pairings: jealous! Gojo x reader

warnings: none, other than this isn’t proofread! (This is just a fluffy domestic short fic!)

masterlist ! 

The best part about being the strongest jujutsu sorcerer isn’t the power (although Gojo basks in that too) but rather the fact that he allows himself to completely tear his walls down and be putty in your hands once he comes home from work.

Gojo would never say it out loud that the best part of his days is waking up next to you, pressing kisses in your still sleepy face and you whining for five more minutes, then watching as you wobble like a penguin to the shower so you can start your day. Although he doesn’t really ask much from you, his heart still swells every time you make him a sandwich, kiss it and claim that it’s “made with love” before he proudly shows off his ‘breakfast’ of the day to his students.

Even in work, he still thinks of you. It’s quite impossible for this man to stop thinking of you; you and him never left that honeymoon phase even after two years of marriage and a much longer time of dating.

He could be exorcising a curse then get distracted afterwards after seeing an Italian restaurant that he just knows you’ll love. Next thing you know, Gojo flicks his wrist and exorcises the curse in a flash before hopping into that restaurant to look at the menu. Loving is knowing; Gojo takes the time to see if the restaurant would be respectful of your allergies every time before booking reservations.

It’s no secret that this man is completely enamoured with you, if his sappy good morning kisses accompanied with light, teasing touches down your legs is not an indication already. Gojo is confident and feels safe in your relationship and he’s never the type to get jealous because Gojo is Gojo – who else would be better than him for you?

Or at least that’s what he used to believe, until he comes home with a bag of pumpkin spice bread for you, arms wide open and a “Darling~” about to leave his lips when he sees your current predicament.

Nanami is leaning against one of the chairs in your cafe downstairs from your home, the usual stoic man’s lips and cheekbones slightly raised in laughter as you tell him something about your day. Gojo can’t exactly understand the worse falling from your lips because he’s too focused on the way you’re leaning forward, eyes absolutely crinkled into half-moons while you share a strawberry tart with him. Gojo sees the cups of tea have already been emptied, meaning Nanami has been here for a much longer time than he is welcomed.

Gojo clenches his jaw. He’s told you many times you should get a bell so you’d know when a customer comes in, but now he’s thankful you’re stubborn and refused to have one because he can hide in one of the propped up tables and chairs hidden in the darkness.

He can’t help the sigh he releases. He’s late – like he always is.

You’re a regular human who isn’t able to see curses. You’ve only ever known about their existence ever since you started dating Gojo, but other than that, you’re completely unaware of how these things work. It doesn’t bother Gojo. In fact, he quite likes that he can be just a regular man around you, and he basks in the comfort of not having to worry about your safety if ever you were also like him.

He met you when you were just still a barista who helped your boss bake from time to time. Gojo was only a student then who hopped from one cafe to another in search of the best delicacy, but he got more than what he bargained from when he met the fresh-faced and bubbly young woman standing behind the counter whose smile was sweeter than the most sugary dessert you’ve ever made.

As the two of you grew older, Gojo supported you in building your own cafe since you’re so passionate about it and it’s been your dream since childhood.

He still remembers how you’d spend hours in the kitchen trying out new ingredients, so much so that you forget to eat on most days. Gojo is left with the task of literally hauling your ass up upstairs and force you to shower with him. You lie that you’re not really tired, but the moment his skilled hands roll the tension out of your shoulders, a contented and grateful sigh paints those lips he loves to kiss.

One of the things Gojo loves doing with you is taste-testing. He’s not around the house most of the time when you work since he’s a busy man himself, but on the days he actively chooses to annoy Principal Yaga and go AWOL, he’d sit obediently on the counter and let you use him as your own taste experimenting dummy.

When night falls and you’re just about ready to head to bed; satisfied and proud of another day of hard work, Gojo comes home early to help you clean up the cafe and prop the furniture so you don’t overstrain your muscles.

Or at least, he wants to come home early to help you. It’s just that he often gets carried away on his missions and stays behind a lot longer than he’d like because the world of curses is extremely demanding. After seeing that you probably already lifted all these heavy chairs and cleaned up everything by yourself even when you’re tired, and you still have the ability to smile and laugh like that in Nanami’s presence when he should be the one on the receiving end, Gojo is unable to fight back the twisting feeling that pools in his stomach.

Forcing a huge grin on his face, Gojo loudly smacks the paper bag in the table between you and Nanami, his hands resting on the blond’s shoulder who only groans at his presence. “Yo!” He greets, winking when your eyes gleam brighter now that your husband is home.

There’s no trace or hint of anything that could indicate you’re upset with him because he didn’t come home early. Instead, you bow and excuse yourself while picking up your cups and the small plate where remnants of your signature tart had been, and Gojo watches with longing eyes as you disappear in the back room.

Now that you’re gone, Gojo drops in your seat, takes off his blindfold, and glares at Nanami. “Nanamin,” he drawls out. “I wasn’t expecting to see you here – getting chummy with my wife, no less.”

Gojo knows he’s being petty and childish. Of course he is. This is Nanamin we’re talking about; the man is as frigid and stone and he’s as interested in romantic relationships as much as he respects Gojo Satoru. Plus, it’s you, and you have eyes for Gojo and Gojo only, but it’s also Gojo Satoru who’s mixed in the formula, and he’s not the least bit ashamed that he’s being immature right now.

Of course he’s jealous. Of course he’s possessive.

You’re his sweet, little wife – of course he doesn’t like it.

As if reading his mind but couldn’t be bothered to deal with him, Nanami slides an envelope across the table. “Ijichi took a sick leave so he couldn’t give this to you. I was tasked to hand it over to you instead so I came around. It’s not my fault you come home late and your wife insisted I have a short meal before I came home,” Gojo opens his to retort something stupid when you emerge from the back, pretty face tired yet still patient as ever.

“Leaving already, Nanami?” You smile up at him, hand slipping through Gojo’s bigger and rough ones. He doesn’t know why the gesture leaves him stunned, especially when you step close enough that he feels your heat on this sudden cold night. He’s so entranced by everything about you he doesn’t even notice the blond bidding his farewell.

Gojo watches as you turn to face him, smaller hands reaching up to caress his face. Now that his blindfold is gone, his hair falls down to forehead, your dainty fingers brushing them away from his eyes so you could marvel in its beauty.

Like a little kid, he melts into a puddle when you do that exact eye-smile he’s seen you do with Nanami, only this time, it’s reserved, private, and intimate.

Gojo shuts his eyes in the process, nearly stumbling forward, which he doesn’t really let happen with anyone because he’s the Gojo Satoru; strongest jujutsu sorcerer. But you don’t mind, you never do, and if anything it only makes you laugh when he pretends to be deadweight by collapsing into the crook of your neck.

“What a big baby,” you tease with your hand rubbing up and down his back in a soothing motion, all the tiredness and exhaustion from his day disappearing into thin air.

“Yes,” he concedes as he follows you up the stairs where you both change into your pyjamas and settle in for the night. “But I’m your big baby.”

The nickname makes you laugh, head thrown back as giggles erupted in your chest. You’ve already removed your makeup, hair down from your work hairnet and flowing in loose waves. Gojo stifles a gasp then, because you’re in his arms, in his bed, smelling like him, and you’re so soft, so free, so vulnerable and the way you lean into his shoulders while he rubs his cheek on the crown of your head makes him feel like he’s falling in love all over again.

He’ll never get tired of this – of you.

The mere thought of seeing you with someone else that isn’t him doesn’t sit well with Gojo. Now he understands why he’s so jealous and immature – it’s because he hasn’t wanted anyone or anything as much as he loves you.

He can’t imagine a life where he’ll wake up to his mornings without your limbs sprawled across his longer ones, or how he may never hear your sleep talks about birds and butterflies; which is utterly ridiculous, but because it’s you, he finds it adorable. Sometimes Gojo wonders how he ever even lived before meeting, but of course, those were days filled with nothing but him doing weird stupid shit.

Not that he’s stopped doing that, but now at least he’s doing those weird stupid with you.

And he only ever wants to share those with you, so he doesn’t and will never allow anyone else to take what’s rightfully his. You’re his wife, the love of his life, the sunshine in his mornings and the sunset of his beautiful dusk.

He doesn’t care if he’s petty – he’s got every right to be jealous because Gojo Satoru never shares what’s his.

When his mind races back to the way you smile for Nanami again, his hold on you grows tighter. You don’t complain when Gojo suddenly presses his lips into yours, a breathy moan blessing his ears once he finally moves on top of you. Gojo runs his hand under your – his – shirt, letting those talented hands of his roam upon the expanse of his skin like an artwork he’ll never get tired of looking at.

“Missed you,” he mumbles in between the lip-locking, leaning closer when your nails start to scratch his scalp as a way to soothe him from the night. Nothing about the kiss is hurried or fervent; rather, it’s calm and steady, slow and passionate, much like how everything he feels for you is similar to a calm, rainy day where he’ll stay in with a hot cup of chocolate.

You’re home – warmth and comfort – and you know you’re his just as he knows he’s yours, but it doesn’t stop him from kissing you like he wants you to never forget that.

You shiver when Gojo’s fingers tickle your ribcage, that spot always having been sensitive. Your husband swipes his tongue over your lips that still tastes like strawberries from your lipbalm, and he groans, falling forward when you allow him access into your sweet, sweet mouth. Meanwhile, you travel down from his hair into those broad, strong shoulders that always seemed like a fortress to you.

Gojo was so big and strong compared to you. There’s no denying he could easily break you if he wanted to, but he’s nothing but gentle – perhaps a little eager – when he holds you like this.

There’s no memory of how you end up on top of his lap that night with the covers barely strewn across your bodies, Gojo’s back pressing into the bed frame that’s witnessed endless nights of passion. His hands then run over your hips, squeezing it a little too hard until you rut against his hips.

“Hmm,” you moan into his mouth at the friction, while Gojo only smirks at your reaction. Even after years, you’re still so sweet, sensitive, and responsive – he just can’t get enough of it. “Satoru,” the way you say his name is so breathy, almost as if it’s a secret only the two of you should know, so he listens intently at your next words. “You’re a little needy tonight. Did something happen?”

“No,” he lies, smiling to himself once he sees your lips are red and bruised. He’s sure he looks the same, but your eyes are glossed over with love that he can’t resist you pulling you to him as if the space offends him. He trails his lips down to your neck to leave red patches of marks that claims you as his – not that the gold wedding band on your fingers wasn’t doing the job already.

Like the good girl you are, you tilt your head and allow him to do as he pleases. He sucks, licks, kisses and nips at the skin, all the while careful to not hurt you or push you over to the edge since both of you are too tired for the day to ever do anything.

Your head drops to the crook of his neck then, arms wrapped around his shoulders loosely as if you trusted him to catch you whenever you fall – and you know he will. He always will.

Later on, you grow sleepy at the way he starts to pepper kisses into your skin that addictingly smells like cinnamon and vanilla all at the same time. Gojo chuckles to himself at how peaceful you look in that moment, draped over him like a tiny puppy who lives in a world too big for themselves, but that’s not true.

You’re bigger than the universe itself, larger than the vast galaxies he held beneath those eyes, and Gojo finally stops being jealous.

There’s no need to be, after all, not when he’s the one you trust wholeheartedly to tuck you in bed while your soft breathing lulls him into slumber as well. Gojo flicks the lamp off with his finger, not wasting another second before he scoots closer, closer, closer until there’s no more recollection of where you begin and where he ends.

He stands corrected in his statement.

He’ll never get tired of this, of you, for you’re bigger than the universe itself and there’s still a lot of space between the two of you that he can’t wait to cross until your worlds crash and burn.

“Next time,” he promises before kissing your eyelids, “I’ll come home earlier.”

[hsakuras]

Trap | A. Arlert

cw: drug use(weed) drug dealer! Armin, coercion, dubcon, degradation, finger sucking, oral (f receiving), cream pie, unprotected sex, spitting, mentions of baby trapping, self-indulgent

wc: 3.9k

[10:45p] Talk to Armin

You’re not sure what to say back, you want to laugh almost. You want to ask Eren if this is a joke for turning him down last week when he delivered your weed to you. You didn’t think it was that deep when you rejected him, the next text you get from him is Armin’s number.

He’s really serious.

You don’t reply. Not really in the mood to ask him why he won’t sell to you or what’s wrong with him. Instead you tap on the contact he sent you, saving it into your phone and replacing Eren’s spot.

You text him first asking if it’s Armin and explaining you got his contact from Eren. You figured they’d know each other, why else would Eren give you his number?

[11:00p] Hi! It’s me! What can I do for you?

You stifle a laugh, this is the guy you’re supposed to buy from? You know it’s awkward texting someone new for drugs but you’re almost ready to give up when he texts you again.

[11:03p] Eren just told me what you usually get, you want to meet me or should I bring it to you?

Usually you’d be in favor of getting anything you buy brought to you, but you figured it would be safer to meet him instead. Can’t have a stranger knowing where you live and your location is always on for your closest friends. You’ll be sure to text one of them before heading out.

Armin texts you an address of where to meet him. You’re quick to grab a jacket and slip your shoes on before heading out to meet him. You have half a mind to change into sweatpants before you leave but you don’t know how Armin is about being late and you don’t really feel like asking around for someone else to buy from.

The start of your drive is usual, listening and glancing to the directions of your gps to guide you across town. Recognizing that the further you go, the nicer the houses get, the bigger they get, and the more expensive they get. You almost text him to double check if you’re going the right way when it finally hits you.

You’ve met Armin before.

You were most likely fucked from a night of drinking or smoking, or both. You remember how he hung around Eren at a party and how he had on a stupid blue cardigan that matched his eyes. He looked like he didn’t even fit in with anyone. Just some cute, preppy kid running around with his family’s money, probably mixed in with the wrong crowd. It’s no wonder you’re pulling up to a nice house and of course there’s no wonder that there's a parade of cars here. You can see the numerous people with red solo cups in their hands, some stumbling, and the majority of them laughing at the antics of everyone else.

You almost want to leave when someone knocks on the window causing you to jump.

“Holy shit.” You roll your window down enough to be met with blue eyes. It’s Armin.

“Hey, uh, I have your stuff but you’re gonna have to come inside or wait out here.”

You only nod in response, not really giving him the solid answer he’s looking for.

“So are you cool waiting here orrr?”

“I’ll go inside, sorry.” You roll your window back up, taking the keys to your car and double checking to make sure it locks before following Armin inside the house.

The crowd of people outside pales in comparison to the sea of bodies inside of his house. Music blaring and your vision immediately falls to the sweaty bodies dancing in the middle of the huge living room. You continue to look around, watching in awe of how easily people let loose after a couple drinks or hits from a joint. You’re tempted to join them, that is until you make out Eren’s form holding a rolled joint up to Mikasa’s lips. You watch as she hesitantly leans forward and inhales before coughing while Eren laughs. You look away before he can see you, still following Armin before he offers his arm out to you.

“Last fuckin’ time I let Eren throw a ‘small’ party here.”

You laugh a little, holding onto Armin while he leads you upstairs. There are fewer people upstairs, some sitting around to get away from the crowd. Others start to roll a joint before they scramble to put their papers and weed away when they see Armin. He doesn’t pay them any attention, instead, he tells a couple looking for an unlocked room to ‘fuck off’ before unlocking the door to what you think is his room.

Inside everything is organized, you expected it to be. I mean this was Armin you were following, cute Armin with all of his white collared button-ups and cardigans. You don’t recall if you’ve ever seen him in a t-shirt, you watch as he fumbles around by his nightstand, still wary before he encourages you to come in and please shut the door behind you.

He tells you to have a seat on his bed, asking you if you can roll or if you want him to roll a joint for the both of you. You don’t really give him an answer before he finds his tray adorned with wrapping papers, a grinder, and more weed on it. He hands you your baggie of weed telling you that he doesn’t mind sharing his, you don’t know that he only shares his weed with girls he wants to fuck. He loves when new girls like you hit him up for bud, not worried in the slightest bit because Armin isn’t like Eren those sleazy drug dealers, he’s kind and cute.

Your eyes wander to the little bedside table where the drawer isn’t closed all the way and you can see all types of bags full of weed, you can see the scale that his weed was sitting on, and you can make out a smaller bag full of what you can only assume is molly. Part of you wants to ask why he spends his time selling, you’re in awe of his house and you’re sure that his family has more than enough for him to live comfortably.

Lithe fingers roll the joint together before his tongue peeks out of his mouth to ensure it stays together.

“Got a lighter?”

You nod, reaching into the pocket of your jacket and handing it to him. His hand envelops yours and his touch makes butterflies awaken in your stomach. You’re quick to smother them, telling yourself you’re only here for the weed and now a quick smoke session. Nothing else.

Ever the gentleman, he offers you the first hit, gently placing the joint between your lips despite your efforts to take it from him. He holds the lighter at the end and you study his face before you can finally inhale. The smoke makes the back of your throat burn, you cough a little and Armin laughs before plucking the joint from you and placing it on his lips. He inhales, the end lighting up in a bright orange while he takes off the cardigan he’s wearing.

“Sorry, it’s getting stuffy.” He says before passing the joint back to you, thankfully, he hands it to you this time. You take a longer drag, staring at the pretty veins on his arms and realizing how strong he might actually be. He isn’t like Eren, you think, he’s comfortable in the silence and you feel relieved that you no longer have to text his best friend for your drugs, not when Armin is better at responding and willing to smoke you out even if it’s just this time.

You take another hit, enjoying the feeling of your limbs growing heavy and your head swirling in bliss. You feel weightless yet heavy and you’re amazed at how only three hits has you feeling this way. It’s way better than anything Eren has ever given you.

“Armin” you say, mouth going completely dry when you notice that he’s unbuttoned part of his shirt and you can see his abs peeking through when you stretch your hand out to him holding the joint. He’s happy to take it from you, watching as you slowly grow even more comfortable on his bed, toeing your shoes off before letting your jacket fall off your shoulder revealing your little tank top you wear to bed. He takes one last hit before he tells you to finish it.

You’re not sure you can finish it, looking at the camera on your phone and seeing how glazed over your eyes look. Armin tells you to get comfortable, it’s fine. He’ll make sure that no one comes in to bother either of you.

Just trust him.

He watches as you bring the remainder of the joint back up to your lips, watching as you take hit after hit and giggling when you blow smoke on accident in his face, or when you accidentally lean a little too far forward into his own personal space. You even have the audacity to look up at him and say that you’re not even that high.

Oh but if you could see yourself through his eyes, you’re absolutely fucking baked. Pretty eyes glazed and red rimmed while you drink the water bottle he offers you, watching as a small droplet makes its way down from the corner of your mouth. You put the bottle down, “s’kay Min.” You slur and he knows he’s got you.

He reaches over and wipes the water away and you swear he’s unbuttoning his shirt when you’re not looking because there’s no way he just casually shows that much of himself to you. “You’re so pretty” he whispers, the pad of his thumb grazing over your bottom lip before looking back up into your eyes.

The compliment catches you off guard and you’re not sure if it’s the marijuana that gives you courage or the fact you would do anything to get lost in Armin’s baby blue eyes but you allow your tongue to slip out licking the pad of his thumb before he’s pushing it into your mouth. You immediately suck and Armin finally gives you a smirk that has arousal pooling in your belly. You let go of his finger and he presses his lip against yours, immediately you let his tongue in when you feel it against your lips, your hands finding the remaining buttons on his shirt and quickly pulling it apart.

Armin knows he’s got you where he wants you. Pretty thing like you walking into his house with sleep shorts, tank top, and no bra? He knew you wouldn’t protest when he started to roll the joint for you, knew that you’d smoke the entire joint because you haven’t felt this fucking relaxed in a while. He’d call you pretty while your eyes are all red and your mind seems hazy.

Your hands run along the taut muscles of his abdomen, and he’s pushing you back towards his bed. His thigh slotted in between your thighs and you fight the urge to grind down on it, knowing that he could probably feel how wet you would get just at his fleeting touches that set your skin on fire. He kisses your lips one last time before kissing your neck, teeth nipping at your pulse point just to get you to squirm.

Then he feels it.

The warmth of your pretty little pussy on his thigh and fuck he can’t wait to feel you. He wants a taste, his mouth waters at the thought of your honeyed essence on his tongue and coating his chin, how your hands must feel in his hair and what your breathy moans would sound like panting out his name.

He pulls your shirt up, pinching one of your nipples while wrapping his lips around the other, tongue flicking the hardening bud before continuing his descent on your body. Both of his hands are on your tits while he plants warm kisses along your stomach, making sure to tease along the waistband of your sleep shorts.

He’s quick to adjust the both of you, pulling you closer to the foot of the bed by your ankles before kneeling in between your pussy.

“Armin, wait—” whatever plea you had for him dies in your throat when you feel his nose press along your clothes folds, inhaling your sweet scent. He presses a kiss to it, whispering praises barely loud enough for you to hear. Telling you how pretty you look and asking to let him taste you even though he’s already pulling your shorts and panties down your legs. He groans when your cunt, mutters something about how cute your pretty pussy looks. His knuckle coming up to swipe at your slit, groaning when your slick covers it and how sensitive you are under his touch.

You feel him lick a stripe along your folds, your thighs squishing his face before strong arms come to keep you in place. You’re not allowed to interrupt him, not while he’s enjoying himself.

His lips wrap around your clit, using his fingers to reveal it to him, the sensation has you mewling and arching your back into his face. His tongue swirls around the bundle of nerves until your hands find his hair. Your fingers carding through his soft blonde locks while you beg and plead for more. He lets go of your clit in favor of licking your slit, he moans when he finally gets a taste of you, tongue wandering into your gummy walls while his nose hits your puffy clit over and over again. Your mewls are getting louder and you're begging for more, for something more because you need to cum, he has to let you cum.

Armin pulls away and you sob out to him, “Min, please, need to cum, make me cum, please.”

He can’t say no, not when his chin is covered in your slick and his cock twitches every time you plead and whine his name. He holds your legs apart, delivering a quick slap to the inside of your thigh when you attempt to close them when the pad of his middle finger finds your clit. “Keep you legs open.” He says, voice low and gravely. He doesn’t waste time, inserting his middle finger to his knuckle. The feeling of you tight, velvety walls around his digit makes his dick twitch and serve as an aching reminder that he’s not done with you yet, he won’t let you leave after this. Not until he gets to bury himself deep into the velvet of your pussy.

The muscles of his arm are protruding with the pace he sets as he finger fucks you, his lips wrapped around your clit and he begins to suck and you swear you’re in another fucking dimension with how euphoric you feel. The weed in your system makes you extra sensitive and Armin can feel another gush of your arousal all over his hand.

“Armin, fuck,fuck,fuck!”

“Give it to me, baby, wanna see you cream all over my fingers come on.”

He has to see it, inserting his ring finger and adding to your pleasure when he finds that spongey little spot inside of you that has you arching into his touch again. He takes it has his cue to lick and suck on your abused bud again, watching how pretty you look when your voice fails you and your scream goes silent as you cum around his fingers, eyes crossing as you finally give him what he wants.

“Atta girl, squeezing my fingers so tight.”

He slowly pulls his fingers out, eyes fixed on the translucent strings webbing his fingers together before he stands up. You hear the sound of him undoing his zipper before you register what he’s actually doing. With the strength you have you find his hands, watching as he takes off the remainder of his clothes, throwing them somewhere in his room.

Your mouth goes dry when your eyes land on his cock, you didn’t expect him to be so big, to have a pretty vein adorning either side of his shaft and his tip a pretty shade of bubblegum pink with a bead of precum decorating it.

“Armin, wait” you scoot back from him, “m’ still sensitive” you remind him. Your words are slurred and it doesn’t stop Armin from craning his head down and kissing you. Making you taste yourself while he hooks his hands under your thighs, exposing your pussy to his greedy eyes. “You’ll be okay, just be good for me yeah?”

Those blue eyes meet yours again and you’re positive you’re drowning in them. His pupils blown wide as he aligns himself with your drooling entrance, he hooks your legs over his shoulders, finding your hands and pinning them beside your head. He slowly inches himself forward, reveling in the feeling of your gummy walls stretching around his girth. He fights the urge to cum as your pussy flutters around him, he looks down at you, completely fucked out and eyes beginning to water as he slowly pulls back before thrusting into you again.

He lets go of your hands, one of them pushing your thighs into your chest while he brings the pads of his middle and ring fingers to prod at your lips, “suck” he demands, slowing his thrusts to allow you to wrap your lips around them. You taste yourself on his skin, tongue skillfully running along his nails and swirling around both of them.

“Is this why you texted me? Couldn’t get your stupid cunt fucked by Jaeger?” You don’t reply, still sucking on his fingers while he delivers a harsh snap of his hips against yours, he feels the vibrations of your whine, shoving his fingers further into your mouth a smirking when he feels your throat constrict around them.

“Eren doesn’t like easy sluts like you.”

He roughly pulls his fingers out of your mouth, gripping your cheek harshly and making your skin sticky with your own spit. “Keep your fucking mouth open.” You hear him gathering saliva in his mouth before his spit lands on your tongue. You swallow it without being asked, eyes rolling into the back of your skull when he begins his harsh pace again.

“Wonder what he’d say, if he saw you fucking his best friend right now. He said you were so cute, you know?” Both palms are on the back of your thighs, he’s pushing them impossibly close to your chest and letting his weight fall on top of you with each thrust. “Bet he doesn’t know that a little weed gets you desperate for cock huh?”

“m’not desperate” you slur, he slaps the back of your thighs, sending pleasurable pain shooting through your body. “Want me to call him in here? Have him see you cream all over my fucking cock?”

You nod no, but the way your cunt squeezes Armin’s length lets him know all that he needs to.

“Filthy bitch, you’d like that wouldn’t you?” He cranes his head down again, sloppily kissing you and allowing his tongue to explore your mouth, groaning when he feels your hands pulling his biceps closer to you. You turn your head away from him, sputtering a bit before begging for more, for Armin to fuck you harder, faster.

He doesn’t let you finish your sentence, his pace never faltering as he watches your face contort in pleasure. Mouth falling open and brows knitting together while you moan loud enough for anyone to hear if they were to walk by the door. You can feel the head of his dick kiss your cervix with each thrust, “say my name” he grits.

He can feel your gummy walls fluttering, he knows your close, still sensitive from the previous orgasm and from the weed you smoked earlier. Your mind is spinning and you feel so dizzy, so fucking good as Armin continues to fuck you.

“Armin! Cum inside, fuck, cum inside please!”

Hook, line, sinker.

Who knew that’s a joint is all it took to get you in bed, he almost feels bad that Eren couldn’t get to this point with you. His loss is his gain, he’d make sure that the only name you moan from now on is his, he’ll make sure Eren hears you high pitched squeals for Armin to spill himself inside of you.

“Yeah? You want me to cum inside of you? Fill your pretty little pussy up?” He groans when he feels you squeeze him again, your nails biting into the skin of his forearm as you let out a string of pleads for him to not stop.

“What if I knock you up huh? Give you a fuckin’ baby so all you can think about is me from now on?”

The fear in your eyes spurs him on, his fingers finding your sore clit until he can feel your legs trembling against him. The way he circles your bud paired with his harsh thrusts sends you over the edge, back arching and a silent sob escaping your throat while you gush all over Armin’s cock, “Fuck yeah, give it to me, dirty bitch”

“Armin! Cumming!” You squeal as if he didn’t know, Armin isn’t too far after you, keeping his words and spewing curses out as he empties his hot seed inside of you. You moan pulling Armin in for a kiss while his cock pulsates inside of you, both of you reveling in each other and your highs.

Your breathing labored as he slowly lets your legs fall against the bed. He stays buried inside of you, watching as you fight your sleep.

“Hey, stay with me for a bit, yeah? Gotta clean you up.”

You nod, closing your eyes but listening to him go to his bathroom and coming back with a warm washcloth. The warmth of the washcloth feels good against your skin, Armin adjusts you on his bed before pulling you up and helping you to the bathroom.

“You okay?”

“Mhmm” you hum, looking up at him while he helps you sit down, telling you where everything is before walking out to give you privacy.

He begins to pick up both of your clothes, setting them aside while he adjusts the bed for you to sleep in. He isn’t that heartless, he’s sure he’ll talk to you before you go home tomorrow, even if you manage to slip out before he wakes he knows you’ll be back, after all it’s not like you know anyone else that would sell to you.

He picks up the clothes again, your panties falling onto the floor. He looks up to make sure you’re still in the bathroom so you don’t see where he keeps your panties, it’s not like you would need them anyway.

He throws the rest of the clothes into his laundry basket, finding his phone to look for Eren’s contact.

[2:02am]You’re right, y/n is really cute.

[2:02am] She’s staying with me tonight.

“Who are you texting?”

Your voice startles him, he smiles before getting up to help you into his bed.

“No one important. Trust me”

[mercy-burning]

Trouble

Part of Mercy’s 1k Celebration: A collection of Spencer Reid x Reader requests to celebrate 1,000 followers.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!Reader

Summary: Reader decides to cause a little trouble on vacation.

Category: SMUT (18+)

Warnings: Language, sex (dom!Spencer, hair pulling, spanking, female masturbation, rough sex, light choking, oral sex- male receiving, crying during sex, degradation, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, creampie, cum play / if I missed anything, please let me know!)

Word Count: 6.6k

Full Requests: 

+ “...this is for dom spencer/post prison spencer!! okay so you guys are all out with the team on like a team vacation type thing! you decide to wear the cutest and smallest black bikini and tease spencer the whole day. and i mean tease him!! after you guys all separate off for the night he punishes you! spanks you and fucks you until you’re a whimpering mess! maybe you even fall into sub space and his aftercare is 10/10 amazing!!” — @slutforthegubes​ 

 + “A one-shot for reader being bratty for being clingy in front of the team, so then he punishes her by spanking, edging ect?” — @smexyreid​ 

MASTERLIST | 1K MASTERLIST

NOTE: I actually had a fluff planned for today, but I’ve been feeling rather ~spicy~ lately, so I hope this is alright 😉😂

***

Normally you didn't like to get into trouble on vacations. And really, who did? Vacations were meant to be relaxing, a way to kick back, relax, and take a break from the monotony of day-to-day life. Not to mention you and the team were far over-due for one of those breaks.

So naturally, your instincts would tell you to do just that: relax. Right?

Wrong.

You couldn't help it. As of late, your sex life was getting... interesting, to say the least. And now more than ever you were always in the mood for trouble; Whether it meant purposely bending over in the office (right in front of your boyfriend, where everyone else was in the room and he couldn't do anything about it) or touching yourself without permission, also sometimes right in front of him.

Bottom line: right now you were looking for trouble. And you knew exactly where to find it.

Trouble, in this case, took the form of a skimpy black bikini you'd spotted while shopping for the trip. it was barely a bathing suit at all, held together by thin strings that you knew would fall apart with just a mere little tug. And if that wasn't enough to entice you, it had little lace detailing that you knew would drive him insane.

Your body practically burned with desire as it sat in a bag in the backseat of your rental car, Spencer's hand on your thigh burning equally as hot.

"You feel really warm," he noted, giving your leg a comforting squeeze. "Are you okay? If you're not feeling well we can stay behind..."

"No, I'm fine," you answered truthfully with a smile. "I'm just really excited to take some time off. Lord knows we need it."

"Yeah, I know... I just wish we weren't going somewhere so... water-y..."

You laughed, placing your hand on top of his and giving it the same reassuring squeeze he'd given you. "It'll be fun. Trust me, you'll have a great time."

He didn't sound so sure about that, but he didn't know the plan you had cooked up. He was going to have fun on this trip whether he thought so or not.

***

The resort was beautiful. Hell, beautiful was nowhere near the right word for it. It was everything you'd always dreamed about, just like those fancy commercials that showed people in big pools, surrounded by palm trees and workers with white polo shirts who brought you whatever you wanted.

And the hotel rooms you stayed in? They were immaculate. It may have seemed like you were exaggerating, but honestly, you felt like a princess. The bed was just about the most comfortable thing you'd ever had the pleasure of laying on, the view was incredible, sweeping over the resort with a beautiful sunrise every morning, and the complimentary robes and towels were heavenly.

You never wanted to leave.

"Remind me to give Rossi a big hug the next time I see him," you sighed as you rolled over in bed and snuggled into Spencer's side.

He laughed softly into your hair and pulled you closer. "I know it's only been a day, but I could stay here forever. In this bed, with you..."

You smiled, feeling your heart warm at his words. "Me, too... But if you think you're gonna get out of today by being charming, then you're sorely mistaken."

Yesterday, the day you all arrived, you made a plan with Spencer: that first day would be spent settling in and having dinner with the team, going out for drinks and relaxing. And then the next day (today), you were all going to spend the day outside, enjoying the sun and enjoying each others' company. He wasn't too fond of the idea spending all day outside in the heat, but you were sure that by the end of the night he would have found it very rewarding.

Because today was the day you were initiating your plan. Since you would be in public (and you knew your boyfriend wasn't a fan of being too publicly affectionate), you were going to tease him as much as you could. You knew it would kill him, not being able to touch you in front of everyone, and you also knew it would make him mad. Most likely, he would warn you to drop it, and you would feign innocence, continuing on your merry way and proceed with the plan. And if you knew him as well as you thought, chances are he would tolerate you all day, barely putting up with your antics until you were alone for the night.

And then? Then you were hoping he would punish the hell out of you. Because honestly, nothing got your blood pumping faster than when he called you names... When he spanked you, or choked you, or refused to let you come. Or even when he did the opposite and made you orgasm so many times you cried from the overstimulation.

But you knew that whatever punishment he decided this time, it was going to be absolutely delicious.

Just the thought of it made you clench your thighs together, and Spencer seemed to notice; He brought one of his hands down to rest between them, feeling the dampness that was forming through the fabric of your underwear.

"Someone's excited this morning," he mused, pressing a kiss to your forehead as his middle finger pushed the fabric aside and gently glided through your pussy.

You sucked in a breath, nuzzling into his neck and failing to hide a smile. "Well, since we're gonna be out and about all day, don't you think we should do something about that?"

Spencer laughed again, this time slipping his finger all the way inside you, causing you to gasp out.

"That sounds like a fantastic idea, princess."

***

To say you were anxious would have been an understatement.

Because of the material of your cover-up dress, no one could see what you had on underneath unless you took it off. In reality it was more like a summer dress, landing just above the knee in a pretty black floral pattern. Your hair was up in a clip for easy taking-down, and cheap dollar-store sunglasses sat firmly on the bridge of your nose.

And just the knowledge of what was hiding beneath your seemingly innocent get-up had your stomach twisted in knots. Even as Spencer swung your hand in his as the two of you made your way to the lounge area, you pictured that same hand fisting the sheets as his wrapped around your throat while he fucked you absolutely senseless.

You hadn't even realized you were squeezing his hand so tight until he wiggled his fingers and gently nudged you with his shoulder. "You've been... squirmy and tense lately, are you sure you're alright?"

Your hand loosened its grip on his, and then you brought them up to kiss the back of his hand. "I'm fine, just excited to be in the sun all day, that's all."

There was some degree of truth to your words, but he didn't have to know that.

So, to convince him you really were fine, you practically jumped once you reached the gateway to the pool and lounge area, spotting all your friends as they waved you over. Spencer laughed as you parted from him and started walking a little faster.

"Someone's eager," Rossi mused from his chair, a glass of lemonade in his hand.

As Spencer approached behind you, Luke snickered. "Not eager enough, apparently. They're late. What were you lovebirds up to, eh?"

"Alvez, if you have to ask, you probably couldn't handle the answer," Tara said with a snicker of her own.

Funny thing was, she was absolutely right. And it made your stomach twist into even bigger knots just thinking about what happened just an hour before you left the room.

Thankfully the mood was kind enough to shift, courtesy of JJ removing her sheer cover-up and taking her sunglasses off with them. "Anyone up for a light morning swim before more people show up?"

You weren't sure whether or not it was a good idea... Did you want to start your teasing so early on that by the end of the day it was going to be an even bigger struggle to keep your hands off of Spencer, silently begging him to whisk you away and have his way with you? But what if he held out and decided to cut the day off early? If that was the case, he'd most likely drag out your punishment for hours, and is that something you wanted?

Your mind swam in a current of filthy images and possible scenarios, all of which were too damn good to pass up.

So, you counted yourself in and handed Spencer your bag, to which he gladly took and then planted a kiss on your forehead.

You waited until he was settled down, sitting at the table with Rossi—who also decided to hang back—to start removing your accessories.

The first to go was the sunglasses, easy and still unsuspicious. You were going to remove the hairclip first, but then an idea came to mind, so you easily slid out of the cover-up and let it fall to the ground.

Spencer's jaw dropped open at about the same speed, though he quickly closed it to seemingly remain unbothered. The smallest of smirks played across your lips as you bent down to pick the garment up. And you took your sweet time, purposely struggling to get it between your fingers. At one point, you had it halfway up before you 'accidentally' dropped it again, mumbling a curse under your breath.

But eventually you gave up the charade, successfully grabbing the dress and holding it out to Spencer. "Would you put this in my bag for me, babe?"

"Uh huh," he muttered, his hands practically shaking when he took it from you.

To add sugar to the pot, you took a step towards him and kissed him chastely on the mouth, just before taking the clip from your hair and shaking it out like in the movies. Truthfully you weren't sure if it was as sexy as they always made it seem, but judging by your boyfriend's inability to look at you, you figured it did the trick.

You turned and made your way to the pool then, leaving him behind with a little extra spring in your step.

***

Your swim extended until lunch time at around noon, where everyone gathered at their table. There were about thirty of these tables all around the pool, each attaching a tall umbrella to keep from the sun.

Though Spencer had seemed rattled and more shocked than anything at your outfit reveal before, now he just seemed calm. Oddly calm.

As you opened a beer, you looked over at him. "You okay, baby?"

"Yep. I'm all good."

He clearly wasn't. His hand twitched under the table, and it made your stomach flutter with butterflies as you wondered what he was thinking. Was he thinking about fucking you out here in front of everyone? Was he imagining and concocting ways to make sure you knew how much of an affect you had on him later? The thought of all of it excited you to the point of squirminess again.

It was safe to say that Spencer noticed. His hand reached out and brushed your knee about ten minutes into lunch, and it sent a jolt of electricity through you. He was never this way in public, but now he was full-on gripping your knee under the table and slowly sliding it up and up and up...

"Excuse me? Do you guys have an extra chair we could use by chance?" A voice sounded from the other side of you, and you jumped as Spencer quickly removed his hand from you.

But then you got another idea.

"Oh, here, you can use mine," you told the voice, which belonged to a middle-aged woman in a blue one-piece and a sun hat.

"Are you sure? I don't want to be any trouble..."

You stood up and smiled at her, handing over your chair as you insisted. "It's not a problem. Really."

"Thank you," she returned with a smile. "Have a great day."

"You, too!" you called as she walked off with the chair. You turned to Spencer with a smile. "You don't mind if I sit on your lap, right?"

He didn't answer, only shifted in the chair, and that gave you all the permission you needed. So you promptly sat down between his legs, and you snuggled as close to him as you could, making sure to wiggle a little more than needed without being too obvious as your friends continued chatting. Spencer's left hand gripped your hip so tightly you thought he was going to leave bruises.

That excited you more than it probably should have.

So to test your luck, you placed your hand over the top of his and drew little patterns into the back of his hand. Your other hand worked at occasionally grabbing fries to eat.

What you didn't expect was for Spencer to ask for one. Really, you didn't think much of it, though those butterflies returned in your lower belly when he ate the fry right out of your hand, bringing his face to rest right above your shoulder. Before he pulled away, he whispered just inconspicuously enough to avoid raising any red flags.

"Watch yourself, princess..."

He hissed out the nickname so harshly it made you shudder, and your thighs clenched under the table as he leaned back again.

Just in time for someone to talk.

"Why, you two are awfully clingy today." It was Penelope, giggling through a bright pink bendy straw.

You decided to play off of that, smiling and leaning back to press yourself fully against him. "This is our first vacation together, I guess I'm just excited," you said sweetly.

Spencer lightly kissed your cheek, but his hand squeezed your bare hip again. A warning not to push it.

"You know, Will and I haven't had a vacation in a while. It's kind of a bummer he had to work, otherwise we could've taken the kids." JJ pouted playfully before taking a fry.

"We'll definitely have to plan for another one of these in the future," Penelope offered happily.

You wiggled your hips just the tiniest bit as your head dropped onto Spencer's shoulder. "I agree."

His fingers were gripping your hip with brutal force now, and to cover a yelp, you faked a cough. He eased his grip, settling on splaying his entire hand flat across it instead. Its warmth mixed with the knowledge of how big it was made you all warm inside. And, God, if you didn't want to fake being sick so you could drag him up to the hotel room right then...

But you held on, ready for phase two of your plan.

While swimming before, You decided with Luke, Penelope, Tara, Matt, and Emily that a game of water-volleyball was in your future. JJ offered to call points while the rest of you, in teams, played against each other. Despite their efforts to get Rossi and Spencer to join, they both declined, but in a way you were thankful.

Being in action might just be the thing you needed to finally push him over the edge.

So soon after lunch, you all moved over to the open water-volleyball pool. JJ, Spencer, and Rossi all sat at the edge on lounge chairs to watch while you divided into two teams, Penelope, Luke, and Emily on one side, you, Tara, and Matt on the other.

Truth be told, during the game you almost completely forgot about the other little game that you were playing with Spencer—the one only you two knew about. You were quite content and happy having fun with your friends for so long that it was a distant memory.

But at one point, Matt lifted you out of the water to hit the ball, his hands firmly gripping your waist to help you do it. And you didn't think anything of it until you realized your second, and probably your most fatal, mistake.

You'd successfully spiked the ball and scored the winning point, to which your team loudly cheered. And when Matt brought you back down into the water, you flung your arms around his neck in a hug. He lifted you out of the water again as he hugged you, and over his shoulder, you spotted Spencer.

He was furious.

No one would have been able to tell, of course, but you knew. You'd seen that look before, when you were teasing him badly enough that it warranted a pretty severe punishment.

You may have won the volleyball game, but in the process you inadvertently won another game, one that excited you far more and presented you with the grand prize of one very long night.

***

Spencer was quiet with you the rest of the day. After the game, you all decided to just lay out in the sun for a few hours. Occasionally, you would sneak a glance at your boyfriend to find him in that oddly calm state again, the one that borderline scared and excited you at the same time, and for a moment you wondered if maybe you'd gone too far, even if you hadn't intentionally meant to make him jealous.

But if something was truly wrong, he would have told you. You both knew the lines between playful and serious, and this odd calm that Spencer was exuding was most definitely playful.

He only further proved that to be true when you got up to the bar to get a margarita, and you felt a presence behind you.

His hands splayed over your hips and slid forward to your stomach, pulling you back to him. The hardness you felt pressing into the thin material of your bikini made you tremble.

"I want you to finish your drink, and then I want you to meet me in our room. Take your time, princess. I'll be waiting."

Before you could even answer, he was gone, his hand lingering on your body for a moment before he let himself fully walk away. And as you slowly sipped on your drink, chatting a bit with Penelope when she came over, your skin still burned hot from his touch.

***

You took a deep breath before stepping ino the room. Your hands were shaking with excitement and your stomach churned at the sight of him.

He was perched on the bed, freshly showered, wearing nothing but a towel hung low on his hips while he read a book. His hair was wet, towel dried and hanging in soft curls in front of his eyes.

Spencer always took your breath away, but this?

You were in deep shit.

He didn't even look up from his book. He continued flipping the page and gently nodded towards the bathroom door. "Go get a shower ready. I'll be in in a minute."

Your first instinct was to obey. But then again, trouble was what you wanted in the first place, so trouble was what you were going to deliver.

"Why?"

"Because you're covered in chlorine from the pool, and you have to shower." He still didn't look up at you. And that just wouldn't do.

"I'm sure you're right, babe, but I just don't feel like it. And you can't make me."

His eyes flitted up to meet you, just for a brief second before he sighed and shut the book. "Y/N..."

"Spencer..."

"You've been a tease all day, do you really want to make it harder for yourself?" This time he was looking up at you fully, meeting you with a bored expression that was just so fucking hot. You couldn't resist.

"I don't know," you teased, crossing your arms. "Do I?"

"Trust me, princess, you don't..."

You giggled at the nickname and started walking towards him, kicking off your flip flops and uncrossing your arms in the process. "Hmm... I think I do."

"Take another step, see what happens," he offered plainly.

Just for the hell of it, you stopped and then took one giant step forward, bringing you to the edge of the bed where he was sitting. You smiled down at him and felt your insides heat up as he brought his hand out, roughly pulling at the thin fabric of your bikini. He pulled you right on top of him, just for you to be rolled over and pinned on your stomach.

His hands pinned your hands behind your back as he pushed his body into yours, making you whimper out excitedly.

"So be it. Don't make a sound unless I tell you to. Understand?" The sternness in his voice sent another chill through you as you nodded. But then one of his hands came up and tugged on your hair, pulling your neck back. "Answer me."

"I understand," you said, though not without making it sound like you were bored.

That only seemed to make him more mad, which of course was a win for you. He tugged your hair harder, causing you to yelp out with a masochistic laugh.

"Something funny?" he inquired evenly.

"You're cute when you're mad," you offered with a shit-eating grin, wiggling your ass against him.

This time, instead of pulling your head back, he shoved it down into the mattress, his hand shifting to hook his middle finger around your cheek and into your mouth. "You're cute when you shut up and obey me... But I have a feeling you're not going to be very good for me tonight, are you princess?"

You only hummed around his finger in response, clenching your pussy around nothing as your body suddenly went wild with a wave of pleasure at his words.

"That's what I thought... Let's see how well you take your spankings, maybe then I'll go easy on you later."

He wasted no time then, yanking your swim bottoms down and running his hand over the curve of your ass.

"Let's see... One—" SMACK. "—for making a show of wearing this slutty little bikini."

To keep it interesting, you wiggled your ass for more, and he returned the favor by spanking you even harder than the last time. "Two, for giving away your chair just to sit in my lap." Very quickly after, he administered another one, following with, "Three, for teasing me at lunch in front of our friends."

"But I d—"

SMACK. "Four, for interrupting me," he said quietly. And with the way his hand was rubbing over your stinging skin, he was no doubt admiring his work so far. He even hummed, lifting his hand occasionally, leading you to think he was going to spank you again— Only for him to settle on rubbing over your ass again.

He was drawing this out. Taking his time. Seeing how antsy you would get.

Needless to say, it was working.

Your hands, which were still pinned behind your back by Spencer's other hand, started to flex, and you whimpered out in want.

"What's the matter, princess?" he cooed.

"I... I want you," is all you could think to say. Because you really did.

"Bad girls don't get what they want. Especially brats. So tell me, do you think I'm going to give you what you want?"

You were supposed to answer him, but in the name of trouble, you remained silent.

He waited for an answer that never came. And when he was tired of waiting, realizing what you were doing, Spencer spanked you again. "Five, for not answering me."

Before you could do or say anything, he landed another slap to your ass. "And six, for having Matt's hands all over you."

You couldn't help it. You laughed. "Oh, that got to you, huh? His hands were nice and big. Reminded me of y—ah!"

He spanked you again, hard. Tears stung behind your eyes and you smiled through them.

"Seven," he growled. "For being a fucking brat."

You took a few deep breaths before speaking again. "Aw, are you jealous? You really think I would—fuck!"

Another spank. "Eight. Don't you dare get it to ten." It was obvious that he was challenging you. Either that, or you were just looking for trouble so badly that you were willing to hear his words as a challenge. But regardless, you challenged him back with one simple, breathy word.

"Nine."

SMACK. "Nine. You must really be looking for trouble, huh?"

You laughed, wiggling your ass one more time. "You don't even know the half of it."

Spencer spanked you one last time, harder than all the rest of them, and you actually yelped out, squeezing your eyes shut.

"Ten. Now get in the shower, or I'll make it double."

You thought about it, but a shower actually sounded really good, and it would give you a chance to breathe before he utterly wrecked you in a little while.

"Okay," you offered, slumping against the bed loosely to show him your surrender. He gently let go of you then, rubbing over your ass a few times before pulling away from you and helping you stand.

"You want me to put something on that now or later?" he asked gently, brushing the hair from your face.

"Later," you returned with a wink and a smile.

He huffed a laugh before gently smacking your ass one more time and sending you off in the shower.

***

As excited as you were for the rest of the evening, you were tempted to take as long in the shower as you wanted, just to see what Spencer would do. But you decided to just take a shower normally, rinsing out your hair just as you always did. You quickly washed up your body, wincing a bit at the sting of your ass under the soap and warm water.

And then you started thinking about how exhilarated you felt as he punished you. Each sharp, warm smack of his hand on your skin made you feel utterly electric and wet. It was a wonder you weren't actually dripping down your leg and onto the bed at how badly you wanted him.

The thought sent your hand down to said wetness. You really shouldn't have been touching yourself, but you were practically burning for him, melting at the amount of teasing you'd done today and the anticipation that came with every move. Your hand was relentless, looking for its own trouble as you moaned out as quietly as you could. The water was still cascading down your back as you rubbed tight, fast circles on your clit, hoping to get fast relief.

And then a knock came at the door.

"I want you out here in five minutes!"

Sure enough, Spencer's voice was enough to finally push you off the edge, wave after wave of pleasure coursing through you. But as soon as it subsided, you turned the water off and got out to dry yourself off.

Hopefully he wouldn't ever find out what you've done. But the devious side of you really wanted to know what he'd do if he did.

With that thought flooding your brain, you quickly finished drying off and walked out into the bedroom to find Spencer waiting on the bed again. His towel was still wrapped around his waist, and it gave you an idea.

You winked and dropped your own towel, revealing yourself fully to him.

"Did I ask you to drop the towel?" he chastised.

"Nope," you replied, placing your hands on your hips.

"Then why did you do it?"

You decided to take the mocking route, drawling out an overexaggerated, "Because I'm a dirty little whore, and I need you to put your big cock inside me."

"Are you done?"

He looked bored again, and it made you want him even more. So you said, "No. Once your cock is in me, I wa—"

"Were you touching yourself in the shower?"

Holy fuck.

"No."

Spencer stood up and glided over to you until he was towering over you, clearly unbelieving of your blatant lie. "No?"

"No," you repeated, the tiniest of smirks forming on your lips.

Without warning, his hand was between your legs, and a gasp left you as he found your clit, rubbing it almost exactly the same way you'd been earlier. You couldn't help the strangled moan that left your mouth, and he smirked knowingly.

"Yep. Those are definitely the sounds I heard."

And then he removed his hand, making you whine at the loss of contact. "I'm sorry," you whispered, hoping he'd return, if only to punish you for what you did by overstimulating you.

He seemed to have another idea, though.

"You're sorry?"

"Mhm," you whimpered, reaching out to grab his hand. "I'm so sorry."

When you had hold of his hand, he took control, gripping your wrist and pushing it away, and then he grabbed your shoulder. "Then why don't you get on your knees—" he pushed on your shoulder and you obliged happily, "—and show me how sorry you are..."

Your pussy throbbed around nothing as you looked up at him, eagerly waiting for his towel to drop. But he didn't move, and it was clear that he was waiting on you to do it.

So you yanked the towel down and marveled at how hard and ready he was. Your head seemed to move of its own accord, like it was magnetically drawn to his dick, and you weren't complaining. And then your tongue flattened and licked a broad stripe underneath him, before you quickly made work of taking him completely into your mouth.

It didn't take long to start a nice rhythm bobbing up and down, occasionally looking up to see him. Again, he looked bored, and though that would have spurred you on before, now you were desperate to please. So you worked your mouth faster, slacking your jaw and taking him in deeper, using your hands to keep yourself steady by gripping the back of his thighs. You moaned and gagged around him, yet kept your pace up regardless.

"Come on, princess, you can do better than that," he teased, fisting your hair and holding you down on his cock. "Apologize like you mean it."

He released your hair then, and you pulled back to take a breath of air before spitting obscenely on his dick and quickly stroking him with your hand. "I'm sorry, baby, I'm so so sorry," you whined, right before taking his balls in your mouth. You kept at that for a few moments before going to take him in your mouth again.

This time you were meaningful in every single movement, taking him in slow and deep. Each time he hit the back of your throat you held yourself there and choked around him as long as you could, tears falling from your eyes. And then you'd pull away slowly, swirling your tongue around his tip before repeating.

Eventually though, he pulled you away completely and studied you as you sat there, knelt on the floor in front of him with red eyes, and tears and spit completely coating your face. Your lips were glistening and puffy as you panted, whispering soft apologies.

"What a good girl," Spencer mused, brushing hair from your eyes and wiping tears from your cheeks. "I accept your apology. Come here."

His gentle voice all but pulled you to him as you stood on shaky knees. He hadn't even really done anything to you yet, and you were already a mess. That fact made you smile.

You wiped most of the mess from your face and nodded. "So, what's my reward?"

Spencer huffed a laugh. "For being a brat? Nothing."

"Aw, but I thought I earned your forgiveness..." You pouted playfully, and he pulled you closer by the waist.

"Yeah, well you're being cocky, so I take it back."

Before you could say anything, he kissed you, bringing both of his hands up to cradle the sides of your head. You all but melted into him and let him lead you to the bed, where you were turned around and bent over again.

He used his leg to spread yours apart, right before bringing a hand to the nape of your neck. As he grabbed a fistful of your hair and gently tugged your head back, his other hand fell between your legs and gently parted you.

"You ready, princess?"

"Uh huh," you whined back, right as he pushed forward and glided his cock through your pussy. He waited, making you anticipate that sweet moment when he'd finally enter you, and you could tell he was enjoying every second. You wiggled against him, and he yanked your hair.

"Ah-ah, be patient... Be patient..."

He continued just sliding himself through your opening until you weren't expecting it. And then he slammed into you, eliciting a loud moan from the back of your throat.

"Sh, shh," Spencer expressed, releasing your hair and sliding his hand to cover your mouth. "Everyone's going to hear you, princess, you need to keep quiet. Can you do that for me?"

"Mhm," you mumbled against his hand, letting out a strangled sigh when he placed it on your shoulder instead. He kept up a nice, hard pace pounding into you, each slap of his hips against your burning ass just the right amount of pain to be pleasant. And you were thankful for the bed underneath you, because if you didn't have it, you'd surely have buckled under the weight of your knees already.

Feeling how limp you were in his grasp, Spencer used both his hands to wrap around the front of your throat, keeping you upright as your hands pressed into the mattress.

"Tell me, princess, do you think you deserve to come so soon?"

You were so caught up in how hard and deep he was fucking you that you were pretty sure it wouldn't matter what you told him— you were going to orgasm regardless, because there was no way you could even fathom trying to hold it in. Whether or not Spencer would show you any mercy at that point was a mystery.

You were just going to have to find out.

"I—I... Ohhhh..."

You heard him laugh lowly, and it made you clench around him. "Oh, it hasn't even been five minutes, and I've already fucked you so dumb you can't even speak? Huh?"

You whined in response, letting your head fall to the side as you tried to look at him. And you barely caught a glimpse of his hair as he continued speaking. "Aw... My poor little princess... That's what you get, isn't it? When you act like a dirty little whore..."

He was recalling what you'd teased earlier, and it brought you closer to the edge more than you liked to admit.

"Uh... huh," you whined out, dangerously close to coming undone.

"Alright then, princess. Come for me, show me what you got."

Unsurprisingly, it didn't take very long for that to happen. You let out a string of whimpers and cries as he fucked you through your orgasm, his hands slightly tightening around your throat as well. Every sensation was blinding and intense, just like you knew it'd be, even if it was only your second orgasm of the night.

And you had a decent suspicion that it wasn't going to be your last.

Even after you were done, Spencer kept at it, relentlessly fucking you into the mattress until your legs were surely numb. Your knees were still sore from being on the floor before, and likewise, your ass was still burning. Not to mention the overstimulation you were experiencing as one of his hands moved down to rub at your clit.

Eventually though, he stopped, and you weren't sure why. But then he flipped you around, laying you on the edge of the bed and leaning over you, his hands brushing more of the tears from your cheeks.

"I wanna see your pretty little eyes when I come, okay? You think you can keep 'em open for me, princess?"

"Mhm," you whined out as he pushed into you again.

He settled on a slow pace that built and built until he was fucking you fast and hard and incredibly deep. His entire body leaned into yours as he snapped his hips forward over and over again, brutal in their goal to completion. You kept whining out, feeling another orgasm coming quickly as you let yourself succumb to him.

"That's it, princess, you're taking it so well. We're almost done..." He whispered comforts into your temple, moments before you reached your peak once more. You shook violently underneath him, which was all he needed to finish himself.

He pulled back and looked into your eyes, filled with tears at the overstimulation, as he snapped his hips forward once, twice, and then three times before letting go. He held himself inside of you, moaning out while looking into your eyes. The feel of his cock throbbing and spilling over inside of you was just about the most comforting thing in the world right then, accompanied by soft brushes of his fingers through your hair and even softer declarations of love.

Long after he stayed inside of you, catching his breath, Spencer pulled out and examined you, the way your body glistened perfectly with the right amount of sweat. Your chest heaved, each dip and curve and peak of your breasts slowly rising and falling as you trembled. He slid down your body, until finally his eyes caught sight of your pussy, glistening and dripping with his cum. It absolutely wrecked him in the best way possible, so much so that he couldn't help himself.

He brought his hand to your opening, gently scooping up his cum and gathering it onto the pads of his fingers. You moaned out as he did it, and he knew then exactly what he wanted.

"Open up, princess," he pried softly, bringing his fingers to your mouth. You gladly did what you were told and sighed out as he glided them over your tongue, practically spoon-feeding you his cum. He pumped his fingers in and out of your mouth slowly, feeling every vibration on your tongue from the sounds you made. And then he did it again, bringing his fingers back to your pussy to gather more of his mess.

He did this until it was pretty much all gone, and truthfully, you would have let it go on forever. The intimacy of it all, the soft and sensual way in which he explored and watched you, and the love you felt for each other all wrapped up in a shiny, red bow was the perfect end to a perfect day.

You would have fallen asleep, but Spencer was gently nudging your arm. "Hey, you," he said gently, pressing a kiss to your temple. "I think it's time to run us a bath, don't you think?"

"Sure," you agreed quietly with a smile. "And then we can sleep, right?"

"I think the team might get mad at us for ditching dinner, but I'm willing to risk that."

With a laugh, you reached over and kissed him. "Good. I love you, Spencer."

"I love you, too, princess."

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[kkodzvken]

right here - dabi x f. reader

“it’s happening again but i don’t give a fuck about your friends i’m right here, here. baby take a look around i’m the only one who hasn’t walked out i’m right here, here.” - chase atlantic, “right here”

touya-nii wants his baby sister all to himself. smut + angst, DARK CONTENT, 18+ MDNI

wc: 5k

warnings: stepcest (reader’s mom and rei are together, and reader calls him nii-san/touya-nii), emotional manipulation + toxic relationship, drug use, mentions of violence + murder, dumbification, infantilization (reader’s a crybaby lol), degradation, unprotected sex w no prep

a/n: the lovely @inkykeiji ‘s touya-nii series is my absolute favorite fanwork i’ve ever read, and it inspired me to write this!! thank u so so much clari for letting me post this and for creating such a beautiful world with your words </3

“Oh, baby, what’s wrong?”

His words startle you, and you jump with a little yelp, dropping your bag onto the ground in surprise. It lands with a loud thump against the shiny hardwood floor, the sound making you flinch again.

He wasn’t supposed to be home yet. Your nii-san was almost never there when you got home from school. He was rarely home before the late hours of the night, well past midnight, when he’d slip into your room without your mother or Rei noticing. Which is why you’d allowed yourself to cry as you walked into the house, why you didn’t bother to wipe away the spidery mascara tears dripping down your face or swipe the snot off your nose. Your stomach coils uncomfortably at the thought of your nii-san seeing you like this, and you duck your head down, sinking onto your knees to retrieve your fallen backpack.

“Princess.” His voice was sterner this time, and it sent a little spike of fear shooting through you. You couldn’t handle his disappointment, not today, not after everything that had happened. “When I ask you a question, I expect an answer.”

“S-sorry, Touya-nii,” you stutter, eyes still trained on the floor. He sighs, a dramatic, overly exaggerated sigh that sends another dagger into your heart. You hear the sounds of the couch creaking as he gets up, the sound of his sock-clad feet treading against the hardwood as he made his way to you. His own knees hit the ground, and a large hand finds its way to your chin, long fingers hooking under your jaw and pressing upwards. You let out an involuntary whine as you’re forced to look up at him. Please don’t be mad, please don’t be mad, please don’t be mad, you think over and over, bracing yourself for his disappointed glare.

But instead, you’re met with concern swimming through his turquoise eyes. Somehow, that hurt even more than his reprimands would have. He was so busy, already so stressed, and now you’d gone and made him even more worried with your stupid crying. Stupid crybaby. Stupid, pathetic crybaby.

The thought triggers a fresh wave of tears, and you instinctively raise your arms to him. With a coo, he wraps his strong arms around your waist, pulling you flush against his body. Your face finds its home in his chest, nose buried in his soft cotton t-shirt. Your body shakes as sob after sob pours out. His hands trace comfortingly over your back, rubbing gentle circles against you as he holds you so tight that it almost hurt. But it doesn’t hurt, could never hurt. Nothing ever hurts when it came to him.

“C’mon baby, talk to me,” he whispers against the crown of your head as he presses soft kisses into your hair. “Nii-san can’t help until he knows what’s wrong, baby.”

You sniffle, and then pull your face out of his grey t-shirt, now stained with your tears and makeup and snot. “’M sorry, nii-san,” you whimper. “Sorry for worrying you. ‘M fine, I’ll be fine. Don’t worry about me.”

He tuts at that, and pulls you close again. This time, your face buries into the crook of his neck, your nose pressed directly to his skin. You inhale his familiar scent – Marlboros and spicy deodorant and something distinctive that’s so painfully him – and as it floods your nostrils, it helps to calm your breathing a bit. He’s saying something, his voice impossibly low, even lower than usual as he speaks directly into your ear. You force yourself to pay attention to his words. “…always worry about you, princess, you’re my everything. Don’t hide yourself away from me. You know, you make me more worried by not telling me what’s wrong, and you don’t want that, do you? You don’t want to worry your nii-san, right?”

You shake your head furiously – or, at least, as furiously as you can when his strong arms are caging you tightly against his body. It’s enough, though, because he coos and nuzzles into your hair. “Then tell me what’s wrong, baby.”

“It’s stupid,” you mutter against his skin. “I’m just being a crybaby.” You don’t look up, partially because you can’t with how tight he’s holding you, but partially because you didn’t want to see the disappointed expression on his face. “But…my friends. You know, I’ve told you about them. Katsu and Hanta and Eiji and Denki. They…they told me we couldn’t be friends anymore. They said they don’t want to be friends with a stupid baby like me.” Reliving the moment makes your skin crawl, and threatens to make you start crying again, but you blink your eyes to force the tears away and continue. “I don’t understand, Touya-nii! Just yesterday, they walked me home, and everything was fine! And now they hate me! I’m... I-I’m just…” The dam in your chest bursts, and the tears that you were trying so hard to keep at bay erupt at full force.

But your nii-san is there, with his arms wrapped tight around you and his warmth enveloping you. By this point, you’re completely in his lap, your thighs straddling him. You can’t deny that being this close to him affects you, like it always does. The combination of your already fragmented emotional state, paired with his hands that have now snuck under your shirt and weight of his clothed cock pressing against your core, make you desperate. Without realizing it, you’re rocking your hips, chasing bliss in one of the only ways that you know how to.

His warm hands grip at your waist and squeeze. The pain makes you gasp and still your movements, and you look up at him. Your wide eyes, sparkling with unshed tears, meet the blue flames of his own irises. His blown-out pupils cover most of his eyes, but you can see the ring of turquoise that surrounds them, that beautiful cerulean sea that you adore so much. Your heart pangs, and for a second you wish that he’d stop with the drugs and let you see those pretty aqua pools more often. But you catch yourself before you can get carried away. Nii-san knows best, after all. Who are you to question him?

You’re just a stupid baby, like your friends said. You suppose that they’re your ex-friends now, although the thought sends another sob wracking through your body. Touya’s eyes don’t leave yours, and he swipes away at your tears with one of his long fingers. “We’re not fucking right now, baby. You’re too emotional. C’mon, let’s go to bed.”

He gently repositions you in his arms so that he can carry you, and then he stands up and walks towards the stairs. You just let him, too dazed to say anything. Touya-nii? Turning down a chance to fuck? What has gotten into him? It’s so out of character that it leaves you dumb and confused. He walks up the grand staircase and across the plush carpeted hallway that leads to his room, easily transferring your weight to one arm so that he can push the door open. He gently lays you onto his plush mattress, and you expect him to climb in with you, but he walks towards his dresser and opens the second shelf from the bottom.

Your heart sinks, but you try and ignore it. Touya-nii knows best. Touya-nii knows best. Touya-nii always, always knows what’s best. He rifles through the various bottles and baggies that he keeps in that drawer before pulling out a little orange bottle filled with blue and white capsules. Wordlessly, he shakes a few out onto his palm before tossing them into his mouth and swallowing them dry. He’s probably used to it, with the way that he swallows more drugs than actual food these days.

He slinks back to the bed and plops down next to you, the weight of his body slightly launching you up. You shriek, and he chuckles. You try to shoot him a glare, but your nii-san is just so pretty when he’s smiling that you can’t help but giggle along. He extends a finger and curls it in a “come hither” motion, and you obey, scooting yourself towards him and nestling into his familiar warmth.

“Your friends are stupid,” he says. It makes you flinch. You had almost forgotten about the reason you were so upset – Touya always made you smile, always took the weight off your shoulders and made you forget about everything that was wrong. But his words are a harsh reminder, and everything comes tumbling down once again.

He notices the shift in you – always so perceptive, always so attentive – and presses a kiss to your forehead. You tilt your head up, desperate for the warmth of his lips against your own, desperate for him to touch you and take the pain away, but he shifts away. “Listen to me first,” he says sternly, and you nod, ever the obedient little puppy.

“Your friends are stupid,” he continues. “They’re stupid, and if they don’t realize your worth, that’s their loss, baby.” One of his hands comes up to cup your face, titling your chin so that he can gaze directly into your eyes. It’s far too soon for the oxys to have taken effect already, but you could swear that his pupils are even bigger than they were before. His eyes feel like an abyss, like black holes, sucking you in. You don’t think that you could ever escape – you don’t ever want to escape. “They think that you’re a dumb baby? They think that you’re too weak and stupid? They’re idiots. You’re my baby, and you’re perfect just the way you are.”

His words are like a fire, and it burns away some of the ice that formed in your chest after you’d spoken to your friends. Still, your pain doesn’t disappear quite so easily. Your little hands clutch his shirt and tug. “B-but I love them, nii-san. I don’t want them to think I’m dumb.”

Touya’s eyes flash dangerously, and your stomach twists. You don’t know what you did wrong, but you’re terrified that you made him mad, that he’ll throw harsh words or blows at you. Or, even worse, that he’ll push you away and leave. But the anger disappears as quickly as it came, and you try to tell yourself that you just imagined it. “I don’t give a fuck about your friends. You don’t need to love them, princess. You don’t need to love anyone else.” The hand that was cupping your face moves down to your chest, and you think that he’s finally going to touch you like you want him to and make you feel good. But instead, he taps at the space between your breasts, his large finger thumping against the spot on your ribs that shields your heart. “This little heart? Princess, you don’t need to give it to anyone but me. I’ll take care of your heart.”

You furrow your brow. Touya has always been protective, has always insisted that you don’t need anyone but him, but this still leaves a sour taste in your mouth. “Touya-nii,” you start to say, but he cuts you off.

“This isn’t the first time this has happened, has it, angel?” His words are just leaving you more confused, and you open your mouth to say so, but his hand shoots out and squishes your cheeks like a fish, effectively silencing you. It hurts, with how tight he’s squeezing you, but you can’t deny that the warmth of his hand is comforting. “Everyone’s left. Your dad left. Your mom’s never around. Those girls you used to hang around with, they don’t talk to you anymore. All of my siblings,” he says, spitting the word with so much venom that you recoil, “can’t stand you. And now these boys. Baby, take a look around. I’m the only one that hasn’t walked out.”  

His words hurt. They hurt because they’re true, because you scramble to find a single example of someone who love who hasn’t left you, and you can’t. You can’t. Your nii-san is the only one who’s stuck around, who’s listened to you cry and comforted you without running away. The only one who hasn’t recoiled at how sensitive you get, the only one who takes care of you and gives you what you need. A fresh wave of tears springs out of your eyes, and you try to bury your face in his chest, try to do anything but stare at the voids that used to be his eyes, but his grip on your face is far too strong.

“What’s wrong with me?” you whimper.

He coos, and releases his bruising grip, choosing to instead cradle your face again. You expect him to give you comfort, to tell you that there’s nothing wrong with you. You open your heart, ready to embrace the warmth of his words.

“You’re dumb,” he says, matter-of-factly, and your face must betray your surprise, because he begins to rub little circles into your cheek. “You’re dumb,” he repeats. “You’re sensitive, and you’re childish, and you wouldn’t survive a single day without someone taking care of you.”

You don’t register exactly when you started crying again, but tears are flowing freely down your cheeks now, running over his fingers that are still moving across your skin. “But,” he continues. “You’re perfect. You’re perfect for me. You’re too much of a god damn brat for anyone else to handle you, but I can handle you. Only I can handle my dumb baby sister. Do you get it?”

He pauses for a second, giving you time to try and absorb his words. The gears in your mind feel like they’re turning painfully slowly, and you can tell that he notices your confusion, because he gives you a dry smile. “This is exactly what I’m talking about, angel. You’re so dumb.” He knocks his fist against your skull, far too harshly, and you yelp a little at the pain. “There’s nothing going on up here. You’re so damn sensitive and annoying, nobody else can bear to deal with you. Don’t you see, princess, how lucky you are to have your nii-san?”

You nod. Your foggy brain is beginning to understand his words. “I’m…I’m so lucky to have you, Touya-nii.”

He chuckles, and he leans down, and finally presses a kiss against your lips. It’s chaste, and over far too quickly, no matter how desperately you try to prolong it, He pulls away and laughs at the pout on your face. “See, puppy, you’re so needy. Your nii-san gave you a kiss, but you’re still pouting and whining and asking for more. Don’t you see why nobody else likes you?”

You nod again. He’s right, you tell yourself, even though there’s still a piece of your brain that recoils at the idea. It doesn’t make sense, what he’s saying. Your friends never said anything about you being needy before, and your mom’s only gone all the time because she’s working, and, besides, she’s the one who took you and left your dad. It doesn’t make sense, but you push aside the stupid resistant part of your brain. Touya-nii must be right, Touya-nii is always right, and you don’t want to make him mad by being a brat and asking too many questions. You were being so dumb, he had to practically spell it out for you. He’s right. Touya-nii knows best. Touya-nii knows best, Touya-nii always knows best.

You look up at him with your glossy eyes, and he smiles back at you with his empty ones. But you can still see the small ring of turquoise that surrounds the voids, and you latch onto them, dive into those tiny blue-green pools and take respite. “’M sorry for being so needy, nii-san.”

“Oh, baby,” he coos. “My pretty, needy baby. Nii-san’s gonna take care of you, because if it wasn’t for him, who else would? You’d be so lost without your nii-san.”

“So lost,” you parrot back. You want so badly to make him proud, to make him give you more praise and sweet words. “Need you.”

“Fuck yeah you do,” he mutters under his breath, before suddenly pulling your face in close and kissing you. It’s violent, it’s messy, but it’s just what you need. He’s what you need. His teeth sink into your bottom lip, and you cry out as the sensitive flesh breaks. He doesn’t stop, doesn’t care – he just slides his tongue into your mouth, and you can taste your coppery blood on his tongue. Your blood, and the acrid taste of smoke from his Marlboros. It’s not bad though – no, it’s great, because it’s your nii-san and you love him more than words can say. His fingers sink into your hips and push you onto your back, and he climbs over you, teeth leaving little marks all over your soft skin.

“Nii-san,” you gasp, and Touya thinks it’s the most beautiful sound he’s ever heard. He breaks away from your neck and revels in the needy whine you let out.

Right now, with your small legs wrapped around his waist and your hands desperately clawing at his shirt, trying to pull him impossibly closer… this gets him higher than any drug ever could. You get him higher than any fucking drug ever could.

You grind your hips against his, and he growls before leaning down to reclaim your lips. It’s not romantic. Nothing about what you have is romantic, despite what the pretty words he whispers into your ears claim. It’s all a means to an end, a deception to get him what he needs. You’re his drug, and he’d rather die than come down. Would rather die than see someone else get their disgusting fingers on what he owns.

Which is why he was so fucking furious yesterday, when he saw you walking home with those four boys that you call your friends. A joke. It’d be funny if it wasn’t so pathetic. You really think those boys have any interest in being just friends with you, any goal in mind besides fucking you?

It was honestly just luck that led to him catching you. Jin was too damn stoned to move, and that idiot Tomura had sent Touya to do the runs instead. He was counting the money that a group of scared-looking college students had handed him, making sure that they weren’t trying to stiff him. He knew they weren’t of course – one look at those kids proved that they were too close to pissing their pants to even think about cheating him – but protocol was protocol, and it was there for a reason. Even if that reason was that Tomura’s big, scary daddy would get mad. He had just tucked the bills into his right pocket and reached into his left for the bottle of little green pills that those kids wanted when he saw you. Or, to be more accurate, he saw you being ogled by four boys, their hands all over you as you walked.

It made him sick. He didn’t even realize that he was clenching his fists until the bottle of pills in his hand exploded and little orange fragments sliced his palm. And even then, he barely registered the pain. It was the startled yelps of those kids that snapped him out of his furious haze, and he just threw the pills and plastic shards in the general direction before turning around and marching towards his car. They were saying something, complaining about something or the other, but he couldn’t fucking care less. His hand was bleeding freely by then, and he stopped before getting into his car – he didn’t care about whatever temper tantrum Tomura would throw about his shitty service, but he did care about his white leather seats. With a frustrated groan, he clawed at the wound with his blunt nails and dug out the bits of embedded plastic, and then pulled the sleeve of his jacket over his palm to staunch the bleeding. It probably should’ve hurt more, but the cocaine and rage flowing through his veins were a hell of a painkiller.

He knew those boys, of course. He knew everyone that you interacted with. He drove around for thirty minutes so they’d all have enough time to get home. His work phone wouldn’t stop ringing, and his fingers were too shaky to silence it, so he just smashed it against the dashboard. It sent more little pieces of glass into his already bleeding hand, but he didn’t care. He didn’t care, he didn’t care, didn’t care about anything besides how fucking furious he was right now. He wasn’t mad at you, of course – you were too dumb to realize otherwise. You probably thought those boys were just nice because they liked you, that they only had innocent intentions when they offered to walk you home. Fuck Jin for rolling when he was supposed to be working, and fuck Tomura for deciding that Touya had to be the one to take his place. Touya picked you up from school every day, and he dropped you off in the morning, and he took you wherever you needed to go. You’d assured him that you’d be fine getting home by yourself today. He assumed that you’d take the bus, which made him antsy, of course – plenty of fucking creeps that could get their hands on you, but at least you’d be in public – but seeing you walk home with that pack of wolves behind you made him see red.

Bakugo Katsuki was his first stop. That blond haired bitch had his disgusting hand thrown over your shoulder, and Touya had half a mind to blow his brains out for that. But, no. He forced himself to stay calm and rational, to control his rage and think about what the best solution would be. If all four of your friends suddenly disappeared, you’d be grief-stricken, and Touya couldn’t have that. He couldn’t have his cute little baby sister wasting her pretty little tears over some brats that just wanted to fuck her, to use her.

Killing was Touya’s go-to way of dealing with inconveniences, but if that wasn’t an option, he was a master at intimidation. With his scarred flesh and maniacal eyes, as well as the pretty little switchblade that he’d carried for years, he painted a menacing picture. He had to ring the doorbell seven fucking times before little Katsu answered, and the brat had tried to give him attitude. All that attitude had melted away within just a few moments, though, and poor little Katsu was left snot-faced and promising that he’d never go near you again. The next three had been much of the same, although they were much more initially scared than the blond kid had been.

It was a shame, really, that Touya didn’t get to actually hurt them. He would’ve loved to sink his switchblade into his flesh, would’ve adored their screams and the tearing of their muscles. A shame, but this was for the better. They’d let you down harsh, and you’d come crying into your nii-san’s arms.

You’re just so damn predictable.

He has every one of your reactions memorized, knows your body like the back of his hand. He knows, when he cups your pretty little face with his large hand, you’ll nuzzle into it. When his thumb runs across the seam of your lips, you’ll open them obediently, pulling his fingers into your mouth and sucking so sweetly.

He knows, because you’ve done it hundreds of times before, but it still feels so fucking good each time. The feel of your tongue swiping across his fingers drives him insane, and he has half a mind to just shove his cock in and fuck your face until you’re crying. But he holds himself back, because you’re pawing at him so cutely, begging for him to fuck you, begging because you need him.

“Please, nii-san,” you babble, your words slurred as they try and push past his fingers. “Need you. Need you so bad, nii-san, need to feel you inside me, please.”

“Be patient,” he says, his hand leaving your mouth and trailing your body. “I need to prep you, or you’ll keep fucking whining about it hurting.”

You shake your head furiously. “I can take it, please!”

He’s so beautiful, your Touya-nii. He looks like a fucking god right now, towering over you, backlit by the hazy yellow of his ceiling light. His fingers leave your body and find his belt instead, and he wastes no time in unbuckling it and shoving his pants down. His cock is already hard and weeping, the prettiest shade of red that you’ve ever seen. He wraps his large hand around it, hissing at the contact, the sound so pretty that it makes your heart sing.

You feel like you’re underwater, like chlorine and salt are filling your nostrils and pooling in your lungs. Your body is buzzing, and you so desperately want to throw caution to the wind and take the edge off. Your fingers are itching to touch yourself. But you know better, know that Touya will be mad. And you want – no, need – to be a good little girl for him. You’ve already given him so much to worry about today, with your whining and crying and babbling.

It’s like he said – you’re a dumb baby, right? That’s what he said, and you know that he’d never lie to you. Nii-san knows best, you remind yourself, chanting it over and over in your head like a prayer. He knows best. He’s the only one you have, and you want so badly to make him proud.

The head of his cock presses against your dripping hole. The feeling makes you flinch, but before you can react and further, he’s already pressing his hips forward. “Fuck!” you exclaim, body stinging at the stretch.

His movement pauses, and he looks down at you with disappointment in his pretty eyes. “C’mon now, princess, you know you’re not supposed to use those bad words.”

Your eyes widen and you instantly backtrack as you realize your mistake. “Sorry, sorry, ‘m sorry! It just felt so good, nii-san, I’m sorry, I just wasn’t thinking!”

He chuckles at that, dipping his head down to nip at your lips with his sharp teeth. “I know, doll,” he whispers against your mouth, his breath tasting like menthol and smoke. “You never think. My dumb baby sister, got no thoughts in that head of yours, huh? No thoughts besides my cock?”

You nod, looking up at him with wide eyes. “Please, Touya-nii. Please fuck me stupid.”

The grin that graces his face is nothing short of sinful. He doesn’t reply with words. Instead, he hooks his massive hands under your knees and pushes up. Your body is like putty in his hands, and you bend at his whims. He folds you up like a doll, your knees pressed up to your chest. You feel so vulnerable, so exposed. But truth be told, you always feel vulnerable around him. You feel like his fiery eyes scorch away at your skin whenever he looks at you, but fuck, you love the burn.

He wastes no time in setting an unrelenting pace, slamming into you so hard that you know your body will be covered in bruises tomorrow morning. Bruises on your inner thighs from his sharp hipbones, bruises on your neck from his teeth. A necklace of purple and blue around your neck in the shape of his fingers. Bruises on your heart from his harsh words, degrading little insults spat against your skin as he fucks into you without mercy. But for every bruise, every insult and painful touch, he gives you the sweetest salve. Pretty little words whispered into your ear, reminders that he loves you, that you’re his.

“My baby,” he grunts, voice shaky from exertion. “Gonna cum. Beg for my cum, my dumb little baby. Fucking beg for it.”

You babble, too far gone for your brain to produce any real thoughts. A jumbled mess of need your cum and please nii-san’s fall past your lips. You can hardly think, but you can always beg for him. Your vision is hazy and your mind is foggy, filled with nothing but thoughts of him, and the feeling of his cock slamming into you, and the heat of his breath against your neck. It hurts, hurts so much, but there’s bliss in the ache.

His fingers slip between your legs and toy with your clit, rubbing harsh circles in time with his thrusts. The combined sensation is too much. With a harsh thrust and squeeze of the hand around your neck, your body explodes. You feel as if you’re in fire, as if there’s electricity coursing through your limbs, burning through your blood and short-circuiting your veins. You cum so hard that it almost hurts, pussy clenching and gushing. Touya lets out a growl, so deep that it makes your stomach flip. He grabs your chin and tilts your face up to meet his, squeezing so hard that the pain cuts through your fucked-out haze and makes you gasp. His lips crash into yours, teeth clacking and tongues swirling as he moans into your mouth and releases. You tremble at the sensation, body overloaded and still buzzing with electricity.

After a few painfully long moments, he shifts and finally lets your legs down. Your muscles scream at the movement. Touya reaches over your body to get a water bottle and press it to your lips, making you tilt your head up and take little sips.

Your arms feel like lead, but you force them to move. They wrap around his waist and tug. Your whines are pitiful, but you’re too tired to be embarrassed. “Snuggles,” you beg, looking up at him with glossy, wide eyes.

“Need to clean you up, doll,” he says. His voice is stern, but there’s a fondness in his expression that warms your heart. You shake your heavy head, trying in vain to drag him closer. He chuckles, dipping down to press an uncharacteristically gentle kiss to your forehead. “God, you really are so fucking needy, aren’t you?”

[not-museing-around]

@long-gone-dream

A vacation was never something Leah had expected for herself. Not only because she has the responsibility of running the bookstore, but just the financial option had never been there. But with the apartment still under renovation, the bookstore getting its facelift, a vacation seemed like a perfect distraction. When she thought about it that way, Leah worried she would come off like a gold digger, but she'd fought max for long enough. He could use his money however he wanted, even if that meant on her. The protests died on her lips in the hospital when she'd been shot. So, on this vacation they were going. It would also give the workers time to put up the new sign. Reinhardt Layton Books. A little of the original name for her mom, and then a little bit of Madsy for the future ahead of them. It probably wouldn't mean much to her, but the name of the business hadn't been changed in a hundred years. It was time though. It wasn't just hers anymore, and Maddox deserved a name on the door. He was the only reason it was still open, and she would never be able to express enough gratitude for that fact.

At first the thought, Leah had wanted to go to England, some place where she could read and look at older literature. But the thought of being able to run around in a bikini to tease her love was too good to pass up. So, off they went to a beach instead. The flight wasn't had, but Leah had enjoyed flying the few times she had. Flying privately was infinitely better though. She spent most of the flight sitting in Madsy's lap, watching a movie to pass the time or just talking as they spent most days. A short nap made it in there at one point and before she knew it, they had landed, stepped off the plane and set up in the beautiful little private resort area. The house was bigger than her apartment, and located right on the beach. She assumed Maddox had chosen this location specifically because there wouldn't be any prying eyes not only was there a beautiful private beach but right out the back door waited a lit pool and hot tub for late night soaks. It honestly looked like a dream. Like something she would see in a magazine but would never think was real. "Remember our deal? You don't check in on the repairs or on business, and I won't sit in the sand and read all day." That didn't mean she couldn't read a little though.. right?

[you-did-well-moon]

Werewolf!Yunho meeting his mate

Type: Werewolf au, angst, fluff

Pairing: Werewolf!Yunho x HumanFemale!reader

Word count:  2,994

A/n: I know this took a long time, trust me, it felt like a long time for me too. With how I view Yunho, I expected this to be happier than it is. I was having a hard time while writing this, and it reflected on the story. Anyways please enjoy and stay safe!

TW: toxic relationship, financial struggle, deadlines, stressed reader, emotional and verbal pain, toxic masculinity, if I missed anything please tell me.

You sat at the foot of your bed, still not made, staring at the mirror resting against your dull colored wall with lifeless blank eyes. Your posture slouched as you finished tying the laces of your running shoes huffing and letting your arms flop to the ground. Looking at the mirror, you tried smiling, but it was meak and disappeared as soon as it appeared. 

You hadn’t smiled a real smile in so long, you forgot what it felt like. To smile. To be happy. The forgotten emotion was one you took for granted when it was easy to to bask in the warmth of it. Now it's just cold. Cold and empty. 

You looked away from the mirror with a tight feeling coiling in the base of your chest not being able to bear looking at the stranger staring back at you any longer. Your gaze fell to the laptop, abandoned, due to frustration on your desk in the forgotten corner of the room. The thought of unfinished drafts and incomplete sentences shook violently in your mind. Disappointment in yourself pooling in your gut remembering your editor’s words. 

“If you can’t give us at least a first draft by the end of the month, we’ll have to unfortunately let you and your novel go.”

How pathetic was it that you couldn’t even come up with a simple sentence. A description, dialogue, a metaphor. Nothing. Anytime you sat yourself in front of the desk, your mind went blank. The cursor blinking at the top of the page mocked you with the possibility of millions of words. Not one ever made its way onto the page.  

The end of the month was in two weeks. 

You felt tears of hopelessness stinging the corner of your eyes, and you abruptly stood up grabbing your wireless earbuds, phone, and bag. Making your way into the kitchen you grabbed the water in the fridge and placed it inside your back, nothing but a numb feeling alienating you from reality and its broken expectations. You heard the front door of your little apartment open and slam close shaking the thin walls of the building. 

Your heart lurched as you winced immediately feeling like you were walking on eggshells. You were usually quick enough to leave before he got home from work, but you had been a tad bit late this one time. You gripped the strap of your bag tightly hoping for it to ground you through whatever vile words came from the one person you should have been able to trust with your ugliest feelings. 

Trying to walk past your boyfriend, eyes trained on the chipped wood of the front door did no good when he kissed his teeth and huffed as soon as he caught sight of you.

“You’re never home when I get home from work, and the one time you are here, you run away not even saying hi to me? Not even a “hey honey how was work today” or maybe a “hi love what would you like for dinner?” and never a “you’ve worked hard would you like a massage?” It's the same shit every day. You treat me like nothing when I'm the reason you even have a roof over your head woman.”

You kept your mouth the whole time he rambled on trying to ignore the clear stench of beer being able to reach you even with all the distance separating you, and the feeling of disgust mixed with desperation pooling at the bottom of your gut at yourself for not speaking up for yourself. Opening your mouth instead of letting your voice be taken from you. A long time ago, you would always say you would rather die than be without your voice. In a sense, you had died a long time ago. 

Around three months after you had started dating. That had been two years ago. 

Your English degree really did you no good. Not having enough time to be an intern in college really screwed you over when no job would take a bright eyed girl with the same passion in her heart for writing as a Karen’s passion for business that wasn’t hers, but with no experience. Even if the apartment was under your name, you’d probably be kicked out in weeks time.

You hated all of it. Everything that made up both the small and big parts of your life, you hated it. You hated his greasy hair and beady eyes, the nasty rough stubble covering the lower part of his face as a result of his laziness. You hated the hesitation in leaving him because of the fear of the stack of bills piling up next to the fridge. You hated the editors who couldn’t find it in some part of their greedy selves to extend your deadline. You hated the empty drafts sitting in your laptop collecting what could only be dead dreams and despair. You hated the cold emptiness that was always present in the confines of your chest. 

You recoiled at the way he said “woman” the same way someone would talk about a bug. Small and insignificant. Patronizing and confident in the worst way. You set your mouth in a tight line not even being able to look at him. Shifting your feet, you crossed your arms and looked up to the sky as if calling out to some unknown being to get you out of this pathetic corner you were trapped in. You cursed under your breath looking at the dying flowers on the coffee table with distaste as they wilted towards you mocking you. 

“What was that?” His voice got rougher with the menacing edge of fanned masculinity and control. Something that could put you in a dangerous place in a very fast amount of time. You looked at him with dull eyes poking your cheek with your tongue as a cold feeling settled in your gut. 

Your hands fell limply to your side and you chuckled humorlessly. 

“Fuck you”.

Those two words were enough to set him off as you slowly blinked and looked at the ground feeling your heart falter when he abruptly got up. You tried to stand your ground, but the surge of confidence was quickly withering away with fear taking its place. 

Ethan was bigger than you. Even if he wasn’t that much taller than you, there was a noticeable difference in his frame and yours. Weirdly enough, you didn’t regret your curse at him. The words still burned brilliantly on the tip of your tongue. 

It was bittersweet of course. His nose flared, and his eyes bulged as he took large strides over to you knocking the coffee table over on his path to you.

“What did you say to me you-” his words were said through gritted teeth, brash and loud in the silent apartment.

 Maybe he was bigger and stronger than you, but you were faster.

You inhaled sharply reacting fast as your hand reached behind you, turning the knob and slipping around it slamming the door close. Your bag bumped against your back while you bolted to the door with the word “stairs” painted in big bold letters across it. You were already at the door when you heard your apartment door open and Ethan angrily called your name. Threatening to break your laptop if you didn’t go back right this instant. 

You couldn’t help but snicker at the weak attempt. It’s not like there were much but empty pages anyways. 

A heavy feeling soon settled on your chest as you went down the stairs. Your apartment was on the 4th floor, and the stairs weren’t the most taken care of, but it’s not like you had much of a choice anyways. It seemed these days you were always wanting to run away from something. 

Your heart felt a little lighter when the warm rays of sun met your skin and the fresh air outside flooded your senses. Your walk to the park went as usual. Cars racing to get where they needed to, people chattered about everything and nothing, and your thoughts wandered to a world far away from this one. 

A world that wasn’t as dark as this one. At the same time your mind became your executioner, it became your safe place. The sick contrast making a nasty feeling flood your chest.

You arrived at the park with a small smile. The normalcy of the day bringing a little comfort to your still racing heart. Kids ran around, laughter ringing in the air around them as their parents watched on benches gossiping among themselves. People raced fast either by foot, bicycle, or skateboard, a visible sheen on their necks. You looked for the kind old man who always looked after your bag while you ran. 

He owned a music store a few blocks away, and he always sat on the bench closest to the pond with his cute corgi and habitually feeding the ducks peas and lettuce leaves when finished  with a certain chapter of his book. You walked up to him with a small smile as he looked up and took the sight of you in with fatherly worry.  

“You look a little pale kid, everything alright?” 

You did your best to liven up and gave your best customer service smile which the older man immediately saw through.

“Of course Mr.Jung. Why wouldn’t it be? I’m just a little tired from the editors. They’re on my back more than usual”, you laughed nervously as he hummed in understanding.

“I hope that boy of yours isn’t giving you any problems. Hey kid, have you ever heard of the term “break up?” he looked so serious you had to compose your shocked face. 

You waved your hands rapidly “I promise Mr.Jung everything is fine there is...I...oh my” you took a shaky breath as he simply shrugged his shoulders and pet his smaller companion who was having a very serious stare down with a duck. 

You wiped your sweaty palms on your yoga pants while you looked around at the tacky named paths trying to decide which one to run today. 

“The Pupper Runner path looks particularly nice today,” he suggested. You looked at the path pursing your lips in thought. The path wasn’t one you ran frequently. Since it was one of the wider and flatter paths, there were more people such as families or people walking their dogs. You also didn’t like having run-ins with the cyclists who were grouchier around this time of day for some odd reason.

After contemplating it, you shrugged and decided why not. Getting run over by a ticking time bomb on wheels wouldn’t be the worst thing to happen today. With a small smile sent in Mr.Jungs way, you checked your shoe laces before starting out with a light jog making your way down the specific path.

There was nothing really different about today’s run than others. Just having to dodge the wheel demons and kids happily running ahead of their worried mothers. You were grateful for the distraction. It kept you from straying too far into your head. It was just you running. Running like you always did these days, your shoes slapping on the concrete path and Got7 blaring in your ears. 

The heat of the sun shone on your skin, but oddly you still felt cold. It was always cold these days. A light breeze fresh to your burning skin as desperate eyes caught yours, and you were once again bought out of your stupor. 

A small boy was kneeled down fingers clutching his untied shoelaces not far from his dad who was trying to calm a crying baby. You didn’t really have a strong adoration for kids, but his panicked pinched face compelled you to come to a slow stop in front of him. Your chest heaved as you bent down to his level sitting on your heels and wrapped your arms around your legs.

“Hey bud, you need some help there?”

The kid made a distraught sound as he nodded his face shaking his hair out of his eyes. He looked dumb founded as he stared at his shoe laces in search of answers they would never give.

“Mama said to make a bunny, but this looks more like my aunt Carol’s dog” he sadly told you.

You snorted reaching out gently to tie his laces with a double knot.

With a grin you looked up at him ruffling his hair and giving him a thumbs up which he happily returned with a toothy smile.

“It’s alright kid, you’ll eventually get it. Just keep trying yeah? Don’t settle or you might catch yourself tripping next time you go on a walk. You’ll get hurt. Wouldn’t want that would we”, you said, lips still stretched kindly upwards, but something in your words struck stingingly deep in your chest. 

As the kid nodded happily with a carefree laugh you were about to get up when you heard the air being split and a strained voice yelling “watch out!!”. 

You looked up, panicked, only to see a frisbee racing right in your direction with alarming speed. With the goal of protecting the small child, you quickly turned your body. Your shoes making a rough sound against the concrete as a startled light cry left the younger boy’s mouth.

With your hands ready, you easily caught the frisbee gasping at the shock of the situation. You quickly shook it off as you gripped the frisbee turning back to the child who profusely thanked you, his small hands shaking as they clutched onto the hem of your shirt. 

You simply smiled reassuringly tapping his shoe and ushering him back to his father who has begun to successfully calm the fussing baby down. 

With shaking knees you tried to get up only to wince and slightly waver at the sharp sting that hit your ankle area. You clenched your jaw feeling more than annoyed at the current situation in hand. 

You stood up grumbling under your breath as a tall figure jogged over to you. While he made his way toward you, your narrowed eyes met his wide, apologetic ones. 

You felt the world shift around you as a calming warmth shot through your body melding with the confusion and panic pooling in your gut, and his eyes widened impossibly as he stumbled managing to stabilize himself right in time in front of you. His figure standing just inches away from you as his hands trembled, and his lips slightly parted.

You got a slight whiff of cologne and mint, but more than anything, the weird feeling in your gut was making a way for the dreadful panic clouding around your heart. 

You felt warm. 

After feelings of feeling nothing but the hollow cold licking at your veins, there was a nice warmth settling in your chest. 

You were scared of it. 

With a heavy chest you slightly inched back left somewhat immobile due to the aching pain in your ankle. “What the hell?”, you immediately set off on questioning him leading him to shake his head frantically at you. 

“I’m so sorry, i really am.” He put his hand on his chest as if trying to prove his sincerity to you, but you breathlessly took a step back stunned by the intense feelings taking over your heart and mind. 

You tried shaking it off, but the warmth lingered. 

You weren’t sure you wanted it to go away. 

“There’s kids here”, you were so distracted by all the emotions circling your mind you couldn’t possibly put any effort into arguing with the young man. His lips parted to make way for his lips as he nodded his head in understanding. “I know, I'll be more careful next time. I promise.”

Somehow, you knew he was being truthful. You went to say something, possibly something dangerous, but you shook your head and waved your hand. 

You tried taking a step but lightly hissed at the sharp pain that shot from your ankle up your leg. The man instantly dove forward steadying you with a heavy hand between your shoulder blades, and the other hovering in worry near your collarbone. 

With wide eyes you looked at him as he realized his un-asked for touch and immediately went to back away. 

He couldn’t.  

Your hand was clutching the cloth of his shirt near his shoulder blades. Hands slowly uncurling, you smiled awkwardly, but he kept his hand where it was. At his touch, the warmth licking the insides of your body became all the more distracting. 

“Um, I don’t think you can go all the way back home like this”, he cleared his throat looking at you shily under his bangs. Flustered, you smiled at the ground before looking back up and timidly asking “I can't. Mind helping me out?”.

At your question he let out a beaming grin nodding eagerly. He went to stand in front of you, and he crouched down looking at you over his shoulder with soft brown eyes. You did a small jump, and were caught by his hands slightly gripping under your thighs. 

He gave a low chuckle that somehow was felt from where your chest was pressed up against his shoulder blades. “So...what’s your name?”. You let a light giggle escape, “Y/n, yours?”. You saw his jaw move with the syllables of your name whispering it to himself. 

“Yunho”, you smiled also sounding out the name on your own mouth. You gave a shuddering exhale, and you laid your head on his shoulder letting yourself really rest for what seemed like the first time in forever. 

That night you walked right past Ethan who was quick to begin yelling at you, and you tucked yourself under the safety of your blankets feeling the warmth still encasing your heart, so comforting and alive.  

[honeypiehotchner]

intelligence & issues (Hotch x Reader) -- chapter eleven

I’m backkkk <33 Enjoy!

Today’s chapter title comes from “Wildest Dreams” by Taylor Swift and honestly? That song is Hotch and Reader’s song tbh

Chapter Warnings: fluff! Crime scene stuffs, case stuffs, and Hotch is an asshole at the end (what’s new?)

Previous chapter || Fic Masterlist

Chapter Eleven: I thought, “Heaven can’t help me now.”

When you wake, you have a strange sense of Deja Vu. Hotch is shaking your shoulder again, only this time, you’re not in your bed.

“We’re landing soon,” he says softly, hand lingering on your shoulder, but you welcome its weight and warmth, forgetting for a moment that the rest of the team is on this jet.

“Mm, okay…” You bring the blanket underneath your chin, only this is when you realize it’s not a blanket.

You tilt your head down to look at the fabric, then lift your eyes back up to see Hotch isn’t wearing his jacket.

His jacket.

Oh my God.

He sees the realization on your face and smiles, but instead of commenting on it, he turns to start waking the others. As expected, Rossi didn’t sleep, but Reid is still quite frankly passed out. Emily, JJ, and Morgan are coming around, though, and upon seeing that, you scramble to get Hotch’s jacket off of you, catching Rossi’s eyes in the process.

“You were cold,” Rossi says with a shrug, and a smirk.

You shouldn’t be mortified, but you are.

After folding Hotch’s jacket over your arm, you wait until your boss is sitting back down to hand it to him with a raised eyebrow. “Thank you,” you whisper.

“You’re welcome,” he says, thinking nothing of it as he shrugs it back over his shoulders. When he sees you’re still looking at him like that, he adds, “You were getting goosebumps. Would you have rather I let you freeze to death?”

Is he making a joke? You wonder, with the corners of his lips tugging upward. You shake your head, saying nothing else.

No wonder you slept so soundly.

+++

Upon arriving at the local police station, you’re all met with the usual: desperate officers who want you to snap your fingers and find the unsub ASAP.

And, they always look pretty displeased when you admit that you need time.

You swear sometimes people think the BAU is made up of sorcerers who can see the future and not regular humans who are just trained to recognize and predict behaviors.

Regardless, they’re happy you’re here.

“I was shocked myself when I made the connection,” Sheriff Ansley says, nodding to the pictures of the other seven victims, with Nathan and Jonathan at the end. “Those others were so spaced out, we just… Oh, it sounds bad, but when you’ve got other problems coming across your desk, they can all blur together.”

“We understand,” you say, trying to be the comforting one here, even though you’re feeling more and more like time doesn’t exist and that you’ve entered a third dimension.

A few hours of sleep and jet lag can really do a person in. Especially with the added stressor of Hotch standing next to you.

“Morgan, L/N, I need you to come to the crime scene with me,” Hotch says, and your eyes widen the moment your name slips from his mouth. Is he trying to mess with you? You figured after covering you up on the jet, he’d make a conscious effort to be as far away from you today as possible. Just because Morgan is also coming along doesn’t mean much. Profilers aren’t dense.

“Prentiss and I will go talk to the victim’s family,” Rossi says, nodding to Emily.

Reid says nothing, too engrossed by the pictures and details tacked up on the board. Though, after a moment, he says, “I need a map of the town. Maybe the region. Yeah...the region.”

A little confused, Sheriff Ansely replies, “We’ll get that for you.”

JJ notices the confusion and says, “I’ve got it, don’t worry.”

With everyone focused, you pile into a vehicle with Hotch and Morgan up front (you purposefully sit in the back) to head to the crime scene. Sheriff Ansley leads in her car, and about two seconds in, you wish you would’ve thought to ride with her.

“You know I have to ask,” Morgan begins, a shit-eating grin on his face as he looks over at Hotch. “What did you get up to last night? Get lucky?”

Hotch looks ready to backhand his fellow agent. “No.”

Morgan keeps going. “Come on, Hotch, it’s about time you get some.”

“For now, I’ll stick to the case.”

Morgan huffs, giving in, which you think is for the better. But when Morgan turns his head to look out the window, Hotch catches your eyes in the rearview mirror.

You sink as far down as you can in your seat, biting the inside of your cheek to hide your smile.

+++

You have no clue what you were expecting when you pictured the outside of Jonathan King’s house, but it wasn’t this.

A few police cars are already here, their men having already gone in to look around, but not touch anything. A few cars look tiny next to the monster that is the mansion you’re looking at.

“I thought this was a small town,” you mutter, closing the car door.

“Jonathan’s daddy was the owner of the only car dealership in town,” Sheriff Ansley explains. “They were big money.”

“I can tell,” you shake your head. “Definitely don’t have houses like this where I’m from.”

The sheriff chuckles. “Yeah. Before they built it, this was a wide open field. Tiny house. Space for all kinds of animals. Had a red barn out there,” she points off to where a gigantic pool complete with a rock waterfall is.

You hum. “A lot changes for the worse sometimes when money comes in.”

She looks at you then, almost like she respects you a little more now. Which isn’t unusual. The sheriffs in small towns don’t exactly like having to call the FBI in for help. Some do it rather begrudgingly. It’s more often than not that you find yourself being the bridge between big city and small town.

“Any signs of forced entry?” Hotch asks the first officer he sees and they shake their head.

“Nothing. But this damn mansion is so big…” He trails away, looking around at it all.

“I understand,” Hotch sighs. “If you find anything, let us know.”

“Hotch,” you speak up, nearly tapping his shoulder, but you quickly pull your hand back. “If this unsub is a woman, then it’s likely there won’t be any forced entry.”

The sheriff nods. “She has a point.”

“How?” Morgan asks, eyebrows furrowed over his sunglasses.

“Seriously?” You deadpan. “Do you want me to demonstrate?”

He catches on, and drawls, “Go right ahead,” prompting you to shove his shoulder.

“Focus,” Hotch scolds. “I hear you. He probably let her in.”

“Did Jonathan have a reputation of being a player?” Morgan asks. “Take a lot of girls out on dates? Get serious with a lot of them but never marriage-serious?”

Sheriff Ansley nearly snorts. “Oh, yeah. He was the town’s bachelor. New woman every week. Swore every single one was The One.”

You nod slowly. “He must’ve picked up the wrong one, then.”

“Evidently so,” she replies quietly, leading the three of you into the house.

Hotch opts for looking around the house with the sheriff while you and Morgan go to Jonathan’s bedroom.

And he’s still lying there. Wonderful.

You nearly gag, but stop yourself. You’re never going to get used to this shit. At least there isn’t blood literally drenching the walls like that other case.

Moving on.

“Looks like it’s the exact same MO,” Morgan comments, idly checking the body for anything the officers might’ve missed.

You dig around on Jonathan’s dresser, drawers, nightstand, everywhere.

“This guy was seriously rich,” you mutter, picking up a few really expensive watches. Upon opening one drawer, you literally find a wad of cash. At least two thousand dollars, stuffed in between pairs of socks. “The unsub didn’t take this?” You hold up the cash to Morgan.

“She must not’ve spent time here,” he concludes. “Doesn’t look like she took any trophies either.”

“I can’t imagine why,” you say, then crack a smile. “So you’re on my side then, huh?”

He turns his head, eyebrows furrowed. “What?”

“It’s a woman.”

Morgan chuckles. “Yeah, kiddo. I’m on your side. This has woman all over it.”

“Kiddo,” you groan, tossing the cash back in the drawer. “Any clothes from the unsub lying around? I’m guessing she’s smarter than that.”

“Yeah, there’s nothing,” Morgan says, going into the bathroom. “The window in here is locked tight.”

“I really doubt she forced her way in,” you say. “He probably took her out on a date, brought her inside willingly, and didn’t realize until it was too late that he should not have messed with her.” You pause. “Does this place have security cameras? It looks expensive enough to have them. We should get Garcia to get the footage.”

You’re too busy rambling to see that Morgan has walked back into the room, only this time he’s eyeing you carefully.

You turn your head, raising an eyebrow at him. “What?”

“Listen, I know these guys were…” He gestures rather than saying it.

“Rapists?” You say tiredly, placing your hands on your hips. No need to be afraid of saying the word around you. You’ve heard it plenty and said it yourself more times than you want to. “What about it?”

“I just wanted to say I know how good it can feel to see someone like that taken down,” Morgan says slowly. “And then you feel guilty for feeling good.”

You set your jaw, hating he’s right. You’ve yet to admit it to yourself, though. Isn’t it wrong? On multiple levels? You’re supposed to catch the bad guys, not relate to them so much that you understand why they’re doing this.

“And I know it can also bring up some bad memories, but, I’m here for you,” he says, keeping his eyes on yours. “I mean that.”

“Thanks, Derek,” you whisper. “It does...kinda feel good, but...I know it’s the wrong way to do it.”

“Do what?”

“Make a difference,” you shrug. “If I killed Trevor, I’d be taking the short route. That’s why I’m here. To make a bigger difference.”

He smiles then, gently. “And you’re doin’ it. Trust me.”

You let yourself smile, too. “Thanks. Now let’s get back to work before boss man comes in here telling us to focus,” you mimic Hotch’s voice and tone at the end, making yourself laugh as you turn back around.

And that’s when you have the absolute shit scared out of you because Hotch is standing there, frowning at you. Oh, he totally heard that.

“Sorry, sir,” you murmur, knowing you should apologize while you’re ahead.

Thankfully, to save yourself from embarrassment, Morgan’s phone starts ringing. He pulls it out and puts it on speaker.

“Talk to me, babygirl.”

“All of our other victims? Yeah, they were accused of rape, too. Four of them were acquitted or blatantly dismissed, three of them with such short sentences it probably felt like a vacation.”

You roll your eyes. “Sounds about right.”

Hotch eyes you, but talks to Garcia. “Get us a list of anyone in this region that fits those same criteria.”

“Already done, and it is heading to JJ as we speak.”

Morgan shakes his head at how good she is. “Oh, and check and see if you can get the footage from Jonathan’s security cameras at his house. Y/N thinks he should have some.”

“She’s correct, I just found them,” Garcia says, no doubt through a smile. “I’ll send the footage over and start looking.”

“We should get back to the station and go over those names, see if we can narrow it down at all,” Hotch says. “Hopefully Garcia can get us something from that video.”

+++

Garcia gathers one thing from the video, but it’s not anything to do with facial recognition.

For now, it’s obvious this woman is a strong suspect because she’s the only one seen entering and leaving the house (she walked out right through the front door with her head down) in the window of time that Jonathan was killed. But...

“There’s not a clear shot at all,” Garcia says. “Because they’re… How do I put this? His lips are basically attacking her face and it’s a miracle they made it inside instead of just going at it against the door.”

Morgan snorts out a laugh, Reid (who is working on connecting the nine victims further) goes impossibly red, and Hotch shakes his head.

“Well, we’ve got a physical description now,” Rossi says, trying to see the bright side before Hotch loses it, you’re sure.

“Yeah, but it’s just a young brunette in a dress and heels,” Emily argues. “That’s nowhere near narrow enough.”

“Brown hair is actually the second most common hair color,” Reid supplies. “The most common is black, but they’re usually lumped together in studies. A recent one found that 84% of the world’s population has dark hair. But, of course, women are more likely to color their hair than men—”

“We got it, kid,” Morgan says gently, tapping Reid’s shoulder to get him to slow down.

“So,” you chuckle, “she has dark hair, which are the two most common hair colors.” Then, seemingly out of nowhere, a thought occurs to you. “Wait, can I see the video again?”

Garcia plays it again.

“Pause there,” you point to the woman’s hands. “See how she reaches for his wrist?”

“Where are you going with this?” Morgan asks.

It’s then that it occurs to you just where you’re going with this, and you try to hide your embarrassment.

“You can play it again.” After a few seconds, you get Garcia to pause again. “See? She tries to pin his wrists. She’s dominating. She’s the one in control there. See how his back is against the door, too? He didn’t start that way, she turned them around to get the upper hand.”

“So she’s confident,” Emily ponders.

“In sexual situations, at least,” you add. “Some women who are outwardly shy, but like to dominate in bed. It can be different for everyone.”

“So you’re saying we’re looking for a super quiet, shy woman?”

“Not necessarily. Given that she has had enough confidence to kill these nine men without anyone noticing, I’d be willing to bet she’s pretty confident now. It could be a newfound confidence, or she honestly could have always been this way. A lot of Dominatrixes are pretty confident outside of the bedroom, too. Maybe not in the same way, but they are. Just comes with the territory.”

“A territory you seem to know a lot about,” Morgan teases, poking your shoulder.

You scoff. “You wish.”

But your eyes find Hotch’s and you feel another rush go through you, all the way to your toes. You burn every single time you’re underneath his gaze. Averting your eyes quickly back to the screen, you try to shift in your seat in the least noticeable way.

It’s not like he doesn’t already know. If he seriously doesn’t know or at least have some suspicion, then you might suggest he get a new profession.

Redirecting the attention back to the case, Hotch turns to Sheriff Ansley and says, “We’re ready to give a preliminary profile.”

The team stands to head out to the main area. You and Hotch are the last two left, which you’re sure he did deliberately.

“You should take the lead,” he says, and you swear, your heart falls out of your ass.

“What?” You’ve never taken the lead on a profile in your life. Why would he just spring this on you right now? On this case, of all cases? Seriously?

He doesn’t change his mind. “I trust you to get all of the details right. And we’ll jump in when needed, but I want you to take the lead.”

You’re shaking your head. “Hotch, I haven’t—”

“It’s an order,” he says, voice firm. “Understood?”

“Yes.”

He raises an eyebrow. “Yes what?”

Bastard. He did it again. “Yes sir.”

And your jaw nearly ends up on the floor when he smirks, a quiet, “Good girl,” falling from his lips.

Damn him. Now you’re supposed to give the profile? How bad would it be to let Emily take over so you can jump Hotch in the nearest supply closet?

You never find out how bad it would be because Hotch walks out and thanks the officers for being there, and introduces you, giving you zero time to recover.

“Thank you so much for your patience,” you say first. “The unsub we’re looking for is, in fact, a woman, confirmed by some security footage that was recovered from Jonathan King’s home. She’s a brunette, average height, attractive, and she’s confident. She’s killed nine times and hasn’t been caught yet, so she’s likely to be gaining confidence.”

An officer raises his hand, so you nod to him. “No offense...but your description fits practically every girl in this town -- I guess, besides the killing part.”

“That’s what we figured,” you admit. “Unfortunately, this kind of unsub is the hardest to catch. They don’t stand out at all, they blend right in. It’s partly why they go so long without being caught.”

“But they’re not impossible to catch,” Rossi adds, helping you out with the annoyed officers. “This unsub has already killed twice in a week, which could be a sign that she’s beginning to devolve. When they’re in this state, they are easier to catch because they tend to get reckless and forget things, change patterns, which is what we need.”

“So we need to keep a tight lid on this for now,” JJ says. “The media isn’t going to cover this at all tonight because we need our unsub to believe she’s still getting away with it.”

Another officer pipes up. “If the news isn’t gonna report this, how can we keep people safe?”

It’s a valid question. It’s one that you always get when you decide to not have media coverage.

“Keep an eye out. And don’t take any women home,” Morgan offers.

But that doesn’t seem good enough, because the same officer says, “All due respect, sir, but asking a man not to do that is like asking him not to breathe.”

The amount of laughter and you got that right’s that you hear from the other male officers makes your stomach twist. Morgan’s small laugh makes you want to smack him.

“Well, try to refrain for a while,” you state plainly, bringing the focus back around. “If you can help it.”

Another officer says, “I don’t know if I can…” and clicks his tongue mockingly.

“Well, this unsub targets rapists,” you say loudly, placing emphasis on the word. “So if you aren’t a rapist, consider yourself safe and sound.”

That causes an uncomfortable silence to settle over the room, but you could care less. It should make them uncomfortable. It’s unfair that it’s something women have to just live with. It’s bullshit.

Emily and JJ share a look with you, the only kind women can understand. Makes you want a drink. And it’s not even late afternoon yet.

Rossi helps draw things to a close while Hotch practically stares you down. Not subtle at all. You feel it, and for that reason, you don’t look at him. But he’s hard to ignore.

Especially when he walks over and says, “I need to have a word with you,” and walks past you, giving you no choice but to follow.

Well, you could choose not to follow, but you’re not so sure you want to take your chances there. Not that the thrill of the idea doesn’t get you all excited, but now is not the time or place.

So, with your heart racing and your annoyance showing clearly on your face, you follow your boss to an office at the end of the hall. He’s waiting for you, already inside, and he doesn’t look happy.

What’s new?

He shuts the door behind you, his arms crossing over his chest again.

After a few moments of silence, you raise your eyebrows. “What?”

“Don’t be a brat,” he says sternly, causing your stomach to twist for different reason. “And don’t say what. You know what.”

You shake your head slowly. “I don’t, actually. That’s why I asked.”

He looks ready to absolutely devour you in the worst way possible, yet he doesn’t move. “I understand that after the case in your hometown—”

“God, why does everyone keep bringing that up?” You’re two seconds away from throwing your hands in the air like a child, but you stop yourself after the look he gives you.

“Because it just happened three weeks ago,” he replies, voice even. “And because it took a toll on you. That’s not something to be ashamed of, it’s just a fact.”

“You’ve never been up my ass about cases like this, not until you found out.”

“My knowing has not changed anything,” he says, and you think he might mean it. “And last I checked, this is your first case with a female unsub attacking rapists.”

You could punch him. You really want to punch him. “What’s your point?”

“I need to know that you can be objective,” he says. “I know you relate to our unsub. I know how easy it was for you to put yourself in her shoes. You did it almost immediately. I bet you knew it was a female unsub within the first few seconds of the debriefing.”

He’s right. Dammit. “And?”

“I need you to be on our side of this case.”

“I am!”

“Are you?” He counters. “If you knew who this unsub was, would you turn her in?”

“Are you suggesting—”

“Hypothetically.”

“Yes! For God’s sake, yes, I would turn her in.”

“Are you being honest with me?”

“What is wrong with you today?” You ask, crossing your arms over your chest. “If you have something else to say you might as well say it while we’re alone.”

He doesn’t move. Or say a single word.

So much for that.

“Look,” you uncross your arms, tired of fighting already. It’s exhausting on any normal day, but pair it with jet lag and it being between you and the man you obviously care for, and it’s a million times more exhausting. “Yes, I get where this unsub is coming from. Honestly, if it was legal and if there was a market for a job like what she’s doing, I probably would’ve gone into it instead of the FBI. But there isn’t. Because killing people is illegal. So I decided to go to the FBI to make a bigger difference— a real difference. Yes, I relate to the unsub. I get why she’s doing what she’s doing. But just because I get it doesn’t make it right.”

“Good,” he nods. “That’s all I needed to hear.”

You furrow your eyebrows. “I shouldn’t have even had to say it.”

The room falls silent.

Hotch sees it then, that look in your eyes. During the profile, it was all determination and confidence. When you entered the office, it was bratty and defiant. 

Now, it’s hurt.

That’s all he sees. And frankly, that’s all you’re feeling.

Since he doesn’t say anything else, you take it upon yourself to say, “Excuse me,” and join the team in the conference room with only one question on your mind.

Does he not trust me at all?

Next chapter

[thinkingoutlouddblog]

butterfly effect: one

His mouth is slightly ajar, surely shocked to be seeing the girl of his past so far from where he had left her. I myself try to compute what I am seeing, but my brain is running so fast from the adrenaline, the gravity of what is occurring hardly registers.

It’s Harry, and he’s here and the two of you need to get out of there right now.

Word Count: 6k+

Includes: mob!h, mentions of blood, scary dudes late at night, and the set up for my favourite story I’ve ever written!

A/N: guys I am so excited about this story! I swear writing this is the only thing holding me together (so don’t let it flop lmao). It is 2AM pray for me.

My inbox is open for anyone who wants to chat about this series! I love to gab, and constructive criticism is very much appreciated. I want this to be as good as possible!!

butterfly effect masterlist // my masterlist

now

It is not until it is already too late that I realise I should have just ordered an uber.

Alex was very insistent that I order one home from my late shift at the pub. He had even offered to split the cost, knowing without needing to ask this was the cause of my hesitation. It wasn’t that I couldn’t afford it. Strictly speaking, I could. I was just keenly aware of the amount of material I could buy with the amount a late night uber in London would cost me. I would never take him up on his offer. He needed the money just as much as I did.

“It’s okay, I’m good for it,” I gave him a little smile. He was sitting in front of his mirror in his room, midway through getting ready for work. I had simply come to say goodbye before I left for my shift when he had grabbed me by the hand and demanded I ordered an uber home.

“Babe, you have to promise me.”

“I promise!” I stared exaggeratedly into his eyes as I spoke, emphasising my honesty.

In that moment, I made peace with the money I would be losing from my fabric budget. I calculated this budget, of course, by subtracting living expenses from my weekly income. My best friend wanted to make sure I got home safe, wanted the peace of mind while he was working that I would be fine. Who was I to say no to that?

“Make sure you text me when you get into the uber and once you make it up to the apartment.” My chest flooded with warmth at the love and care in his voice. It was moments like these I really sat back and thanked my lucky stars that Alex was in my life.

So, of course I was just going to bite the bullet and order the uber. Of course.

Except, well.

I couldn’t help but think how quickly I got from our place to work. We had picked the apartment just one short month ago, heavily considering the advantage of its walking distance to my work. The King’s Arms was just one block up and down the road. It was barely a fifteen-minute walk. Shorter than that if I took the shortcut down the alleyway back to our block, saving me from walking further down the road and looping back around. It would probably take me longer to get home via uber, once you account for the time spent waiting for it to arrive.

A ten-minute walk home wouldn’t kill me, surely.

The contemplation was pushed from my mind for the duration of my busy Saturday night shift. It was my least favourite shift of the week, as I spent each week chasing after middle aged men getting rowdy in the excitement of watching whatever sport was on TV. The King’s Arm was small, but it was a local favourite known for its homey pub meals, reasonably priced pints and good atmosphere. Much to my contempt they didn’t keep a large staff pool, preferring a smaller, well-trained, reliable bunch. Which was great in theory until it left me to run around like my hair is on fire on a night as busy as tonight.

I was capable of serving everyone well and in a timely manner, but it wasn’t exactly a stroll in the park. More like a seven-hour long sprint, with a half hour break in the middle.

As the final game for the night ended, the crowd slowly but surely thinned until just a couple of small groups remained.

“Hey y/n, are you okay to lock up by yourself if I head home in five?” my manager, Rachel asked me half an hour before close. “I have some time I need to take back,” she added in explanation.

“Of course, you go get out of here.” I knew she wasn’t lying when she said she had some time to take back, putting in all sorts of extra hours to keep the place in tip top shape. I liked Nicola, and I had certainly been working there long enough to handle a couple of customers and lock up by myself. Even if I didn’t like Rachel and thought she was slacking off, I couldn’t exactly argue. She was both my boss and the owner’s daughter, probably not far off becoming the owner herself.

“Are you sure?” She asked, eyeing the few men still seated, probably triple checking she didn’t think they were any kind of threat.

“Yes,” I laughed, “now scram, before I change my mind.”

“Alright if you insist,” she said, already making her way towards her bag.

“Ring me if you need anything! Good night!” She called over her shoulder as she exited through the kitchen door. The cook had gone home ten minutes earlier, the pub serving only drinks the hour before close at midnight.

“Night!” I called back.

I made quick work of what little cleaning there was left to do, and gently reminded the remaining patrons we closed in half an hour. To my surprise they were agreeable and friendly, one of them instantly assuring me, “Don’t worry love we’ll be out of your hair soon, won’t make you stay back late.”

Usually the kind of people that were in the pub this late had no care for closing time, believing that pertained simply to whenever they decided they wanted to leave.

True to his word, everyone was out with ten minutes to spare and I was able to clean their dishes and tables with the remaining time they had granted me. I locked the door to The King’s Arms at 12 o’clock on the dot and riding the high of such an easy close, took not a moment in deciding I was in fact going to walk home.

To Alex: Just ordered an uber!

I felt guilty lying, but I would rather lie than have Alex worrying over nothing. I would be home in a flash, keys secured firmly in between my knuckles the whole way. I felt far safer on the move than waiting out the front of work for an uber anyway.

I kept a fast pace, left only to debate whether I took my shortcut or stuck to the street. I checked over my shoulder, and seeing absolutely no one around, made a quick right turn into the alleyway between two buildings.

I grabbed my phone from my back pocket as I heard the ding of a text notification. I glance down at my screen, reading as I walk.

From Alex: Amazing! I should be home in a couple hours, text me when you get home safe. Love you x

I don’t register the hushed growling tones as I continue making my way down the alley, still looking down at my phone as I type a simple ‘love you’ in reply. It isn’t uncommon to hear the conversations of tenants on the lower levels of these apartment buildings as you walk down the street. Walls are thin and many windows generally left open. It is easy to consign this particular conversation among the other non-threatening city sounds until I eventually look back up from my phone.

I am immediately faced with a most unfavourable scene, under the single light that illuminates this alley, are the two men who I now recognise to be the source of the argument I had barely registered. The first man is tall, dressed in all black, thick muscles protruding through his t-shirt. He towered over the second man who contrasted him starkly in his bright red adidas tracksuit. The tall man’s presence would be dominating the space, even if he didn’t have his dark forearm pressed firmly against the smaller man’s throat.

I clamp a hand over my mouth, stopping myself from yelping stupidly and drawing attention to myself. They haven’t noticed my presence. A witness to whatever it was that was occurring here.

“See all I’m hearing is excuses, bruv,” the tall man’s accent is distinctly that of someone from South London. His tone is aggressive, but even. He knows he has the upper hand and it is clearly not his first rodeo threatening people. This is exactly the kind of person I could’ve avoided encountering by simply ordering an uber.

I snap out of my shocked daze and start to turn to make a swift and stealthy departure. I’m no fool. I know there is a definitive gang presence around here. I also know, if you leave them alone, they too shall (hopefully)leave you. All hopes of making such an exit are of course foiled as soon as my foot connects with an empty beer bottle on my first step.

The two men’s heads snap towards me instantly. I expect the shorter man to ask for help, to say something, but his mouth remains clamped shut. Gang business. He is in a bigger mess than someone like me can ever save him from. The taller man’s eyes narrow. After the briefest moments of standing there frozen, caught, I spin on my heel and run as fast as my feet can carry me.

I run back to the route I should have taken, cursing myself all the way for being naïve enough to believe that nothing bad could happen to me on something as simple as a walk home from work. That women who were raped, kidnapped and murdered from off the street were somehow removed from me. That was something only on the news in my world. Not something that was possibly about to occur.

My heart hammers in my chest as I make the split-second decision, I am safer running all the way home than running as far as I can from the scene of the crime. I’m going to run all the way up the stairs to my fifth-floor apartment, and I am going to lock the door behind me. I turn the corner back up to my block, not slowing down for a second.

I am so quick in fact, that as I come flying around the next corner towards my apartment, I nearly barrel straight into someone. He was clearly walking with some pace too, because he narrowly prevents us crashing into each other head on, but he is a second too slow in his reaction time because I trip straight over his feet. I hardly even see him, even as I am falling straight over him. All I see is brown hair and a dark suit before I’m staring straight at the pavement flying towards my face. I barely manage to throw my forearms out to break my fall as I hit the pavement at speed.

“Jesus,” the man mutters, but the only thing I can hear is my heavy breathing and my own blood pounding in my ears.

I’m on the ground now, I register for a second before my flight response kicks back in.

I don’t even feel the sting of the scrapes with the adrenaline coursing through me, already attempting to scramble up and get as far away as possible from this stranger. “I’m so sorry!” I manage to call as I pick myself and my keys up, gearing up to get moving once more.

“Honey?”

No. It absolutely could not possibly be. There was only one person on this planet who had ever called me by that name.

I stop dead in my tracks. That voice. It’s deeper than I remember but undoubtedly familiar. Familiar seems too simple a word. That voice had echoed around the halls of my brain for years. Even now, six years later, it was not gone but buried, waiting for a simple trigger to spark my memory and bring that beautiful sound back to the forefront my mind. Some days I swear I remembered it like I had just heard it moments ago.

Except now, I really had heard him.

Slowly, I turned to face him.

His mouth is slightly ajar, surely shocked to be seeing the girl of his past so far from where he had left her. I myself try to compute what I am seeing, but my brain is running so fast from the adrenaline, the gravity of what is occurring hardly registers.

It’s Harry, and he’s here and the two of you need to get out of there right now.

Before he can verbalise any of the questions on the tip of his tongue, I grab his hand in my own, and yank him forward as I continue running home.

Realistically, I know that we now outnumber whoever it was that may be coming after me and I know even six years since I’ve last seen him, I am always safe with Harry. He proved that in many ways, and more than once, while I knew him. I was not, however, willing to risk the tall man pulling a knife on Harry. I didn’t even want to put him in a situation where it was a battle of fists. Though I did know from experience he could more than hold his own.

“What’s going on?” he yells as we run down the street, rapidly approaching the exit of the alleyway I had fled.

I gradually reduce our pace until we are speed-walking past the alleyway. Tempted as I am to see if they are still there, I keep my eyes trained forward, praying they aren’t there watching us as we pass by.

As soon as we have cleared it, I’m straight back to my running pace, forcing Harry to accelerate speed once more.

“I’ll explain inside,” I call over my shoulder in answer to his earlier question.

Now that I felt a degree safer with Harry’s presence, I had the capacity to feel thankful I had opted for a boiler suit and converse for tonight to accommodate for the Saturday night rush. This run would have been hell if I had worn a skirt and a heeled boot instead.

“Inside where?” He’s laughing as he speaks and as the fear loosens its grip on me, the déjà vu begins to battle for dominance. That laugh had brightened my every day for long enough to leave a mark on my soul. Fleeting as it was, that single sound reignited the shine it had once left.

His question was answered when we came to a screeching halt in front of my apartment. It took me two tries to input my security code correctly, my brain and hands both moving quickly, but not quite matching up. Eventually, the door clicked, and I was able to swing it open, tugging Harry in after me.

I didn’t stop dragging him along behind me until we had taken all five flights of stairs up to my apartment two at a time.

“y/n…” he attempted to grab my attention when we first entered the building, but I was not to be deterred until we had reached the absolute safety of my apartment. I shushed him, not wanting to receive a noise complaint from my new neighbours. I supposed having such a thought was a good sign, my consciousness beginning to register it was not in any imminent danger.

I huffed and puffed as we landed at the doorstep of apartment 5B, the place I loved to call home. Harry, I noticed, was barely short of breath. He had always been a runner when we were in high school. I wondered if he kept up the habit even now.

My hands shook as I located the correct key on my chain, body still shaking from the excitement of the events of the past five minutes. I struggled to align the key with the lock with my left hand, unthinking of the fact my right was still firmly in Harry’s hold.

“Let me,” he murmured, already moving his right hand to take the key. I said nothing, simply surrendering it over to him.

His hands were steady as anything as he turned the key, granting us entrance into my home. I released a breath I didn’t realise I had been holding. I finally stopped just past the door, my back to Harry as he shut it behind him. I took a few deep breaths, trying so desperately to ground myself.

Was any of this even real? The sketchy characters I could believe in a heartbeat, Harry Styles’ presence, however, was harder to grasp.

But there his hand was, in my own, even if I couldn’t see him.

Harry stood back and let me take this moment to myself, keenly aware of how much I needed it. He knew I needed to take pause and re-centre myself otherwise I would only shut down. He was also aware of my injured state though, even if I wasn’t.

“y/n, you’re bleeding.”

“Oh,” my head snapped back to look at my arm. In the rush to get home, the blood from the scrapes on my arm had run down my arm and dripped into our connected hands. I quickly released my grasp on him. “Jesus, I’m sorry.”

“A little bit of blood never hurt anyone,” he quickly dismissed. “Unless you’re the one that’s bleeding, in which case you better get cleaned up as soon as possible.

“Luckily you have me here to play nurse. Just lead the way to the nearest bathroom,” he gave me a little cheeky grin, clearly trying to lift your spirits. The subtle playfulness is not as natural as it once was, but it is certainly reminiscent of our old dynamic. The surrealism of this whole thing goes straight to my head, clouding my ability to form full, coherent thoughts.

Somehow, I manage to come out with, “I think you mean our only bathroom,” in response.

He grunts a laugh, but he hasn’t missed the use of the word our.

I walk like a zombie, leading him through the hallway past the living room and the kitchen to the bathroom. I hold my forearms up in an attempt to redirect the flow of the blood and prevent it from dripping from my fingertips onto the floor. As I slowly came out of survival mode, my awareness of the stinging of my forearms became increasingly prominent. I was sure my hip and knees were going to be bruised pretty badly too. I really hadn’t managed to slow down at all before all my momentum came crashing into the cement.

“Do you have a first aid kit?” He asks upon our arrival to the bathroom.

“Under the sink.”

My eyes trail over the mess Alex and I had left in our rush to get ready.

I tend to procrastinate getting ready for as long as possible, busying myself with just about anything else. Generally, it will be tidying up the mess I’ve made during the day, only for me to create a whole new one in my hurry to get ready for my shift on time. Alex on the other hand, always leaves plenty of time to perfect his look before leaving for the night. Despite having the time to do so, he never cleans as he goes. Leaving his many products and deliberated outfits spread far and wide. Luckily most of his mess was confined to his bedroom, the only trace of him in the bathroom skincare and hair products (though there wasn’t a limited amount of those, either).

“I’m sorry for the mess,” I speak quietly watching Harry get his bearings, standing helplessly as I bled, hands still raised.

“Nonsense,” he doesn’t look at me as he speaks, jumping into action.

Harry turns the faucet on in the sink before opening the cupboard door and grabbing the first aid kid out. It was actually sort of a miracle Alex and I had one. It had been on a list of “Things You Need for a New Apartment” I had googled, scared we were missing important things. At the time, I had deliberated longer than necessary over whether to get one. I couldn’t remember the last time I had required anything more than a band aid for any given ailment. The deciding factor had been the memory of Alex getting into a couple of scrapes while out over the years. It had never been anything major, the worst injury he ever sustained being a bruised jaw, but it was better to be safe than sorry, I decided.

Turns out, that decision was for the best.

He gently touches his fingertips to my right arm, which had copped the brunt of it. With the softest touch, he delicately guided my arm under the stream of water. As I stepped forward to lean over the sink and wash away the dirt of the footpath, he stepped backwards, giving me my space.

I winced at the initial contact of the water as it ran red. I risked a glance at my reflection. Sweaty brow, the light lazy work makeup I had applied half off my face. I quickly diverted my gaze back to my injured arm. This was not exactly how I pictured our reunion. I had hardly ever even pictured it, I was so sure that I would never see Harry again.

I wondered if this silence was as heavy as I thought it was. Everything about him felt so familiar, yet so different. Up until this moment it felt like being in the presence of a friend, but now I realised, he was closer to a stranger.

I knew the person he once was, a sweet but fucked up kid who had been forced to become a man too early. Someone who had his walls a mile high around almost everyone. Almost. The boy who painted his nails on lunch breaks and was friends with everyone but somehow also no one. Until he was friends with me. Then he was the boy who always sat to my left from the first bell of the school day to the last. Back then, I knew him from the inside out, just as he knew me.

He was my greatest joy of those years. Then he was my greatest heartbreak. Now, he was just some guy I used to know who I had plucked straight up off the street, looking very out of place in what was clearly a designer suit in my tiny apartment.

He looked through the first aid kit as I ensured the entirety of the scrape was rinsed. It extended most of the way from my elbow to my wrist, but more pressingly in my mind, it now stung like a bitch. Once the water rain clear as it ran off my arm, I moved onto the much smaller and shallower scrape on my left elbow, working quickly to get it clean.

Most of the bleeding had stopped, only a few spots on my right arm still dotting with blood. I leaned over the sink to prevent the water from dripping onto the floor.

I cleared my throat, nervous to break the silence.

“Can you please grab me that towel?” I nodded my head towards the black hand towel hung behind Harry.

His eyes snapped upwards from the first aid kit he had been busying himself with. I was sure he had been surveying it more thoroughly than strictly necessary, trying to detract from the awkward energy which had crept up on us. We made brief eye contact through the mirror. My breath caught in my throat. The moment was over as soon as it began as he turned wordlessly to grab the towel.

He holds it in his hand, hesitating before handing it over, “Did you want me to…?” he trails off, growing awkward in his offer. He regretted the words as soon as they were out of his mouth. She barely knows you, back off, he tells himself.

“No that’s okay,” I speak gently, and he quickly passes the towel to me. I get to work patting my arms down delicately.

“Thank you though,” I add, hating the unsure look on his face. I meet his eye, giving him a smile I hope is reassuring.

“Okay, let’s get you sitting down so I can fix you up,” he returns your smile with a slight upturn of the right side of his mouth.

I relocate to the little dining table Alex and I had bought at Ikea just a week prior. Harry isn’t far behind, washing his hands before joining me to tend to my wounds. He lays out everything he is going to need from the first aid kit before holding his hand out. Like an idiot, I stare at his hand without moving for a beat too long before jerkily offering my right arm up.

He laughs silently as he turns my arm over, analysing it carefully.

“So, do you often go for runs at midnight?” He asks as he unscrews the lid on the Vaseline.

“Yeah all the time. I just don’t normally take people from the street with me.”

“Is that all I am? A person on the street?” He tries to keep his tone light, but I can tell he was hurt by my choice of words.

I expect to feel guilty, but a burst of anger I thought I had long gotten over flares in my chest. It isn’t as red hot and overwhelming as it had been years before – I’d definitely had my fair share of time to cool off – but I’m still surprised by the sting of it.

He was the one that made himself a stranger to me, and now he’s upset when I’m stating the fact that he made a reality.

Despite myself, I tried not to come across too harshly in my response. I was never one for confrontation.

“I mean, I haven’t heard from you in six years.”

He is very careful not to lift his eyes from my injuries as he carefully applies the petroleum jelly. I stare down at him, desperate to catch his eye.

There’s a pause as I wait for him to offer some kind of explanation. Some perfectly good reason why my best friend and first love left town without telling me why, or where he was going, and then never contacted me again.

When he doesn’t fill the silence, I sigh as quietly as I can manage. You don’t really know him, I remind myself. I practically kidnapped him, I can’t just go asking him to rehash history. It was so clear that he was what he had wanted me to be. History.

“I just mean, I don’t really know you anymore. I’m sorry I grabbed you like that, I just,” I hissed at the sting of his first aid, “I was walking home from work and I saw these really sketchy looking guys.”

“Sketchy looking?” He finally looked up at me, raising an eyebrow questioningly.

“Well I guess they didn’t really look sketchy in their appearance particularly, it was more the fact that one of them was practically choking the other. They were arguing over something. I think it was something to do with some of the gangs around here,” I attempted a nonchalant tone, not wanting to worry him. The less phased I seemed, the better. I had caused him enough trouble. The only thing that was probably stopping him from running for the hills and never looking back (again) was guilt.

I go on to explain how I’d kicked that stupid beer bottle and taken off running, “which is when I ran into you. I’m really sorry about that, by the way. I’m so glad I didn’t take you down with me I think I would’ve died of a mix of guilt and embarrassment right then and there.”

“It wasn’t your fault, Ho-“he cut himself before his mouth could form that name he had so affectionately given you. “I’m the one who feels guilty, if not for my big, slow feet you wouldn’t have bit the dust.” I laugh at his turn of phrase.

His face suddenly grows serious. “Your head is okay, right?”

Instinctively, my left hand shoots up to the back of my head, ghosting over the slight bump hidden under my hair. The scar tissue was ever so minimally raised, only perceptible to a knowing touch. I retract my hand bashfully, slightly embarrassed by my knee jerk reaction.

“It’s fine,” I match his serious tone, before lightening it up, “as you can see, I managed to break most of my fall,” I gesture to my right arm he has paused work on.

He holds my gaze for a moment longer, discerning whether he thinks I am downplaying anything. He picks up the dressing, moving onto the next phase of his treatment plan.

“And they don’t feel broken? You can move your wrists okay without too much pain?”

My heart swells at his concern. I stamp out the small joy as soon as it flared up. It’s guilt that’s fuelling him. Nothing else.

I shake my head no. He looks up once more, having missed the gesture in his concentration. “Sorry! No. All bumps and bruises. I’m fine honestly, I probably majorly overexaggerated the whole thing and freaked out for nothing. I’m really sorry about all this, its so late at night.”

“Don’t apologise,” he says firmly. “It’s not your fault and you did exactly the right thing by making a break fo’ it. You never know what could’ve happened. Ya’ know. Out late. By yourself. In the dark.”

My face burned red with shame, but also defiance. I knew what I did was stupid and extremely risky, but I also didn’t think I needed a lecture about it in this moment. The fear still coursing through me and my scraped-up arms were surely lesson enough.

“I could say the same thing to you,” I countered.

We both knew my argument didn’t hold up very well. He was a man out alone at night. There was obviously a risk there, but it wasn’t the same.

We also both knew, I wasn’t really trying to start a debate. Just signalling to him I didn’t want to get into it and wanted to move on.

“I was walking to the tube from a mate’s place,” he explained simply, letting me off the hook.

He had begun to tape the dressing down to my skin, securing it safely. He worked expertly. Even if I didn’t already know, I would have said this was one of many times he had done some at home first aid.

“In a designer suit?” I questioned. There were two things I was asking, but also not saying. Was this the kind of ‘mate’ you wine and dine before going home with them? And what happened to that poor kid from Holmes Chapel I once knew?

“I came straight from work.”

Jesus he wasn’t giving me a lot to work with in the way of details.

“Oh,” I say lamely, not wanting to pry. As much as I could tell myself (and him) that I didn’t really know him anymore and he was basically a stranger, it still hurt to be treated like one. We used to be so open with one another. The one thing I ever kept from him was how I truly felt about him.

“I work in finance,” he offers up after a beat of silence. “It uh- I’m pretty lucky to have the job I do,” he alludes to his financial standing, obviously wanting to acknowledge the contrast comparative to how I knew him. A boy not even of eighteen, fending for himself while trying to complete his high school education.

My face practically split in two with the size of the smile on my face at his words. “I’m so happy for you, Harry,” I say, hoping he can see how genuinely I mean it.

“Thank you.”

“Are you happy, H?” The question slips out before I can stop it. Internally, I kick myself. Externally, I try to keep my face neutral, yet interested. That’s a perfectly normal question to ask. Totally.

“Um,” he switches to my left elbow, making quicker work of the smaller wound. “I think so. In my experience you never realise how happy you are until you aren’t. But still, I think I am.”

“Good,” I say firmly. “I’m glad.”

“What about you?” He turns the questioning back on you. “What’s your story?”

“Oh, you know. The sad story of the girl chasing a dream,” I nodded my head towards the sewing machine stationed at the other end of the table.

“Don’t say that!” His tone jests, but he is serious as he speaks. “I think it would be far sadder if I discovered that your talent was going to waste. I’m really glad to hear that actually,” he half says the last sentence to himself, concentrating on fixing his dressing properly on the more difficult angle of my elbow.

“There you go,” he gleams as he admires his handy work. “Good as new.”

“Thank you so much, Harry. I’m so sorry for all this-“

“Not your fault,” he quickly dismisses.

“Even so, I’m sorry for all the trouble. I’ll pay for an uber home for you or something,” I try to come up with something to offer him that can even begin to repay him for his help.

“Are you going to be okay by yourself?” His brow creases in concern.

“Oh, Alex should be-“ I smack a hand over my mouth, realising I never texted him to let him know I had gotten home okay.

“Oh fuck,” I remove my hand from my mouth. I gingerly fish my phone out of my back pocket, muscles beginning to protest, the impact of that fall settling in.

Four missed calls and a flurry of text messages. My phone had automatically turned onto ‘Do Not Disturb’ mode as scheduled at 12:30. I hadn’t been notified of any of it and he had definitely assumed the worst.

“Is everything okay?”

“I forgot to text him and let him know I made it home okay,” I don’t look up as I speak, opening our text chat.

From Alex: I’m coming home

Received ten minutes ago.

“Your boyfriend?” He questioned, keeping his face impassive. That had my head shooting up.

“Uh-“ I began, but cut myself off as the unmistakeable sound of heeled feet running up the stairs to our apartment ran out loud and clear.

Shit.

Before I could even think what to say next, Alex’s key was in the lock. The door swung open, smacking the wall with the force of it.

Both Harry and Alex’s brows hit their bloody hairline I swear. Or more accurately, Lexie’s.

There my best friend and roommate stood, in full drag, light catching the sequins of the pink mini-dress I had sewn myself. If I weren’t standing there with the guiltiest expression of my life, I would be thinking about how stunning she looked.

Harry looked between the two of you, as Lexie did the same. Both trying to catch their brains up to what they were seeing. I myself was at a loss for words. I probably should have started with, “Lex, I am so sorry,” but Harry broke the silence first.

“Wow, you look amazing,” he breathed, transfixed by the look Lexie had created. Drag was an art form, and she was quite the artist. He was not the first to become enchanted upon first look, and he certainly would not be the last.

Lexie narrowed her eyes at Harry, jaw falling slightly open at the audacity of the acknowledgement in this moment. She had little patience for besotted strangers in moments like this. Her narrowed eyes moved to mine, face filling with rage.

“Lex-“ I begin, but am cut off for what seems to be the millionth time tonight with the simple raise of her hand. The close of my mouth is instant. I was not about to make this any worse.

“Bitch, if you do not have a very good explanation for this,” she breathes deeply, trying to gain her composure, “I am going to fucking kill you.”

                                   ********

As soon as he is out of your apartment and onto the street, his phone is in his hand. Fingers not able to press to type the message fast enough for his liking.

From Harry: We need to talk. I saw her.

As soon as the message was delivered, he was returning the calls he had silenced in y/n’s presence. The moment she had turned her back and left him to wash his hands, he had turned his phone to airplane mode.

“Jesus Christ bruv, I thought you were dead,” Michael joked as soon as he picked up.

The two of them had parted ways for what should’ve been five or ten minutes. Harry hadn’t seen it happen, just heard the clatter of the beer bottle as it skated along the ground and the screeching halt in the argument. He had been waiting patiently for Michael to finish working in the shadowy doorway to the side. He hadn’t seen a thing, and he was sure from his concealed position, whoever had seen Mike hadn’t seen him. So, he obligingly offered to take a walk, ensure she hadn’t gone calling the police.

He had just been bored. Ready to go home and have a drink with Michael so he could have a bitch and a moan about work. It always left him feeling better when he returned on Monday. He was killing time, that was all. He hadn’t expected to stumble over the girl who had changed everything.

Harry didn’t take time to explain his extended absence, moving straight along to what he had called for. Just like Mike, he preferred to skip the pleasantries.

“I need you to subtly divert as much traffic from this block as possible,” he didn’t ask. He never asked. It was always an instruction with him. In this business, asking nicely didn’t exactly lend itself to going far.

“What’s this about?” Harry gritted his teeth. He did not enjoy having his authority questioned. The only reason Michael would get away with it was because of their pre-existing friendship. Even then. Harry was not exactly in a forgiving mood. Made all the worse when Mike added, “This isn’t about that girl from the alley is it?”

Michael had his answer when Harry said only, “Get it done or I’ll have your fookin’ head.”

chat with me about butterfly effect!

[neonponders]

This isn’t what @memes-saved-me had in mind for this post but lol (read their tags, they’re delightful) 

Thinking about a younger Billy and an older Steve today ✨

✨ ✨ ✨ ✨ ✨ ✨ ✨

Billy scratched at the hair on his nape. He wanted to grow it out; really had always wanted long hair. And now, as he peered at the other sophomores trying to fluff themselves bigger to match the juniors and seniors, he just might.

Long hair was in. Mullets, rock star manes, extensions - even the opposite. Women with buzz cuts and pixie faux hawks. Pleasant little surprises in Hawkins, Indiana, and Billy might finally indulge in that.

Plenty in this town was backwards as all hell. Girls wearing white stockings like it was the fifties. Boys and girls alike clearly letting having learned hair styling from their out-of-date parents. Two girls with beehives sat in his English class.

But it was fine, because there was plenty of present-day styling, and Billy wouldn’t get any shit at home for matching his peers.

Cherry Lane. The most backwards spot in Indiana.

But that’s okay, too, because small town people need occupations. Parties.

A cool senior with teased, black hair walked right up to him and handed him a neon orange sheet of paper. He saw others holding similar invitations all day. 

Party on Friday night. Address, dress code, and everything.

Caught him by surprise, that a dress code would be needed for one of these things, but the invitation just said ~casual attire~ and someone in his Advanced Biology class told him that Tina hosts the best shin digs, often with costume themes.

So he went. The late summer evening was still humid as all hell, making the party split between the massive house and the matching yard a convenient way to start a weekend.

He’d had alcohol before. Enough to know he preferred tequila drinks over vodka and gin, but the safest way to wake up the next day was to just stick to beer. No matter how bitter or sharply carbonated some of it was made.

Maybe that’s why he heard people hollering about King Steve.

Keg stands weren’t original to Hawkins, but Billy preferred them next to a bonfire on a beach. But people were really yelling for this king to do the damn thing - 

“Steve, why are you even here? You graduated in May,” Tina’s voice cut through the din.

“I live down the street! You really think you’re making this much noise without me noticing? And all of you shut the hell up! I’ll do a keg stand the day one of you dip shits can actually beat my record.”

Another surprise:

Steve Harrington.

Billy’s dumb luck had him three years behind, so he couldn’t look at that face in the hallways. Sit behind that head of glossy, bouncy hair in European History. He still lived in town, apparently. Right down the street. Billy asked around and discovered he worked at the mall and attended the community college -

“Heard you been asking about me.”

Billy stared wide-eyed over his beer. He recovered quickly, but not before Steve bounced on the balls of his feet, smug. That hair was really distracting.

These people really gossip about everything.

“I didn’t think anybody actually went by a title like that.”

“I didn’t put it on my resume, that’s for sure.” Steve’s smirk grew into a smile. Christ, the guy really had that Indiana, home town handsome thing to his face.

That was dangerous. Billy’s gut told him so, the way it bruised like someone had poked it. And wanted to be poked again.

“Let’s do this properly. Steve.” He held his hand out.

It wasn’t queer to accept a handshake. “Billy,” he replied.

“Hargrove?”

“Jesus,” he scoffed involuntarily, releasing Steve’s large hand. His weight shifted over his feet. “Everybody knows everything here.”

“Not everything,” Steve said. His voice sounded...reassuring? But the way his eyes blinked...and a darkness slipped behind his eyes like a curtain. Adults liked to call it maturity. Wisdom beyond years. Billy called it ghosts. Everyone had ghosts behind their eyes. But...he had a hard time imagining what ghosts this pretty senior in suburban America would already have.

Then again, Billy knew better.

Except, as the party progressed and the weekend flowed into a new week, Billy really couldn’t imagine what made Steve slouch a little, and what made his eyes fade out of a conversation. Billy probably should have put more attention into how much he’d begun seeking the guy out.

He worked in the ice cream parlor at the mall. The uniform was equal measures ridiculous and hilarious, but his coworker was cool as hell. Robin. Not Steve’s girlfriend, even though they carpooled to work and community college.

Steve’s house proved just as luxurious as Tina’s, with a pool to boot. A house which supposedly stayed empty more often than it hosted its own family. Steve notoriously didn’t host parties, which....seemed uniquely odd.

Apart from Billy visiting the ice cream shop, it seemed Steve’s only other visitors were high school freshman. Which was weird. That’s weird, right? Then again, Billy was ball and chained to eight hours a day, five days a week to high school. There was plenty of time for Steve to be with friends his own age.

Except he showed up at the next party on Halloween.

Tina’s house boasted a surprising number of Hawkins graduated seniors, forcing the party all the way out onto the street.

Just like before, Steve manifested beside Billy, announcing himself with fingertips brushing his slowly growing, weak little mullet. “Growing that out?”

Steve’s already heavy eyelids were heavier with alcohol. Billy had his customary cup of beer, but his cheeks flushed for a different reason. He had to rub the back of his neck to make the tickle stop.

“Yeah. Maybe it’ll touch my shoulders next year.”

“Have you trimmed it?”

Billy frowned at him. He’d heard some things come out of Steve’s mouth that were endearing in a ‘bless his heart’ kind of way, and this was among them. “No, that defeats the point of making it longer.”

Steve shook his head and waved for him to follow. “Come here. I’ll trim it.”

“You’re not cutting my hair,” Billy scoffed. And followed.

Upstairs.

Billy did his best not to look around the living room; to see any eyes apart from the ones he imagined on his backside. He followed at a leisurely pace. Not eager to be with King Harrington anywhere...

The guy walked right into the closed master bedroom. Billy stood outside of it, stunned at his audacity and the fact that no one was inside it already - 

“You coming?”

Billy’s not a coward -

Actually he is. But he’s an overeager sophomore with a dangerous crush even more.

Steve dug through the master bathroom’s drawers until he found a pair of scissors in their own case. “Sit on the tub.”

By tub, he meant jacuzzi edge. Billy perched. Steve gripped his shoulder to step into the tub with a comb that smelled of foreign hair product and aftershave. Billy’s nose wrinkled. “Wash that first.”

Then he jumped at the tub faucet turning on right beside his ass. Steve laughed. “Chill out. I’m washing it.”

Billy settled with a disgruntled shake of his head. “My hair is curly. You’re not supposed to brush it at all.”

“You’re in the hands of The Hair Harrington, sweetheart. Just relax.”

His shoulders sagged right underneath the weight of sweetheart.

I’m so screwed - 

Of all people to show up in the doorway, Robin from Scoops showed up with an energy that insinuated more sobriety than the guy wielding scissors.

Her mouth hung open like she had come with something to say, but then she sputtered through laughter. “Oh shit. Are you consenting to this?”

Billy rolled his eyes. “If he cuts my ear, I’m beating his ass.”

“I’d appreciate more faith from you, Buckley. I cut your bangs for you.”

Billy chirped, “Really?” admittedly feeling a bit better.

Steve intercepted with the order, “Are you gonna play music or what? I’m so tired of Tina’s music.”

That’s how Billy wound up in a bathroom with college freshmen trimming his ends and styling his hair while Steve and Robin shout-sang to Whitney Houston.

It was great.

Steve curled the top of his hair so he had ringlets falling over his bold brows. Steve, who had his hands all over Billy’s head until he washed the hair down the drain and filled the tub for a bubble bath. Billy scrutinized himself with a handheld mirror until Steve wrapped his arms around him and they tumbled backward into the wet landing.

Tina was hardly pleased to find the three of them making a mess of the jacuzzi, but she sassed a quick thank you for warding off people trying to fuck in her parents’ bed. Billy didn’t have words; only laughter at Robin putting her hair into a wet mohawk and Steve piling bubbles onto his head.

Steve insisted they go back to his house afterward. “It’s November and we’re soaked. Your car will be fine. I can come back and park it in my driveway if you’re that worried.”

That wasn’t the problem.

“It’s fine that your parents are never home, but mine will only recently lifted my curfew for good behavior.”

Somehow, he convinced Steve and Robin to drive him back to his house, at the expense of letting them change at Steve’s first. Billy had his eyes on a beautiful Camaro and was just a few more months of allowance and part time jobs away from having her.

It was his first time in Steve’s house. He had to admit, he preferred Tina’s layout and decor, but he got to wander around. He saw Robin use one of the guest rooms. He saw Steve’s....incredibly boring room. And said as much.

“A prison cell has more personality.”

Steve laughed. “Yeah, you’re right. Are you ready to go?”

It wasn’t until Billy lay in his own bed that those words tumbled through his brain. His fingertips moved through his still-styled hair. It felt better with those dead ends gone. Steve did a good job. Steve liked Whitney Houston and Blondie and a little of everything, really. Steve cared about his appearance enough to be a self-taught stylist.

Steve didn’t have a lot of furniture in his room. Clutter on the dresser and desk, sure, but all of it monochrome or neutral colors. Steve who had an old BMW, house, and surely a bank account to match, but didn’t buy anything in excess. Like he wasn’t allowed to, or something. Billy indulged every scent he got on things he wanted, but Steve didn’t.

Steve had a nailed bat in his trunk. Billy heard it rolling around on their way back to his house, and finally bent over to look under the seats and saw it.

Steve was a walking contradiction. A contradiction who smelled good but didn’t say much when Billy and Robin talked about history. Who started giving Billy free ice cream but never asked about Billy’s stepsister. Who gave Billy rides and gave him the hookup to the high-paying neighbors of Loch Nora for mowed lawns and dogs walked.

Steve helped him get his car sooner than he would’ve otherwise but didn’t ask for anything in return.

Steve, who was always available for a good time, but looked sad when left with his thoughts.

Billy didn’t take well to not being the center of attention. He’d grown up with an interrogation lamp over his head, and sought positive interaction everywhere else. He got so much of it from Steve, that the occasions where Steve bumped against him...refused him, or ignored him, or reminded Billy that he was a rinky dink sophomore lit a match in his belly. And he’d swallowed gasoline for too much of his life.

“That’s something a virgin says.”

Billy couldn’t even remember what he’d just said. He was already, instantly, seeing the glow of embers on the fringe of his vision. “Excuse me?”

Steve shrugged as he got up from his couch. “It’s whatever. It’s fine. Just showing your hand, is all.”

Billy couldn’t believe it. Steve was either the biggest idiot in Hawkins - which he knew wasn’t true considering there was a real cesspool that smoked underneath the bleachers - or he was so far in denial that Billy had a whole new reason to be pissed.

An involuntary sound left Steve when Billy came up behind him and pushed him against the wall underneath the stairs.

“You don’t know anything about me.”

Billy wasn’t some cute sophomore. He stood toe to toe with Steve, barely an inch shorter. If this is what it took for Steve to realize that, fine.

To realize that Billy wasn’t some teenager scared shitless of a girls’ bra -

Steve regained his footing, and closed the distance between their mouths. It was small, soft, and brief. Rationality should have made Billy step away. Punch him, maybe. But Billy wasn’t rational. His shock held him statuesque, barely breathing while Steve moved a hand to cradle the side of his head and neck -

A sound left Billy this time, as Steve angled his mouth over Billy’s. Where he learned Billy was scared, so scared of Steve. His body dashed rationality against the wall and kissed him back tentatively, and then earnestly, just trying to keep up until Steve’s other hand framed him in. As Steve pushed against him until Billy walked backwards to have himself pressed against the wall.

He felt drunk as his hands let go of Steve’s shirt to hold onto the curvature of his ribs. He panted while Steve kissed his throat and washed Billy’s senses with his warm, sweet fragrance; his hair brushing Billy’s face and inspiring him to turn his face into Steve’s scalp. Inhale him into his lungs.

Billy didn’t know what game they were playing. But Steve outplayed him.

[pi-cat000]

BNHA: Kakashi dimension hops crossover (3)

Summary: Kakashi gets dumbed into the My Hero Academia universe through random plot devise.

Characters:  Kakashi Hatake

Fandoms: My Hero Academia and Naruto

WARNINGS: Mentions of violence/injury

START  / PREV  /  NEXT

...

There was no latent natural chakra here. The air and environment were dry as a bone, meaning the only chakra he had access to was the stuff produced on his own. Kakashi is not entirely sure what impact this will have on the 1000 or so ninjutsu he has memorised. He suspects it might increase the chakra cost of external and area affecting ninjutsu. Any jutsu that relied on there being natural chakra present in the environment to supplement the user’s own chakra would be harder.  So, no large destructive or transformative ninjutsu. No earthquakes or earth walls, no freezing large bodies of water or creating whirlpools, most wind techniques would be out. Fireballs should be okay as they relied primarily on the shinobi’s chakra pool, but controlling large quantities of fire would be tricker. The same reasoning applied to lighting techniques, chidori would work fine but anything bigger might cause some strain. As long as he wasn’t aiming to wipe out a Division’s worth of enemies, he probably wouldn’t notice the limitation. Large-scale destructive ninjutsu had never been a specialty of his anyway. And he still has chakra to reinforce his body alongside genjutsu, taijutsu and the sharingan.

Well, he is pretty sure he still has the sharingan …

The only way to confirm his theories was to do some field testing.

Thus, Kakashi waits for Iori to do her final rounds and, just before the night shift starts, he ducks out of his room. It is at this time that the nurses would be at their most unobservant, tired out by ten hours of work. It is late in the evening, meaning most of the hospital staff  have left the building. It makes it ridiculously easy to steal down the halls, unnoticeable even in spaces lit by bight florescence.

After discovering that a Quirk Registry was a literal list of bloodline abilities stored on a digital database accessible to any medical professional, Kakashi has decided to stop applying Konoha’s information security standards to the hospital.  He is still a little weirded out by his execution of what was probably the easiest heist of medical information he had ever carried out. 

A few days of stalking Doctor Wada around the hospital at opportune intervals led to him discovering the man’s office. After that Kakashi hides in a corner and watches the man work. Because no one here had any sense of environment/spatial awareness, he has no trouble keeping in the man’s blind spot even with a limp. Thus, he can memories how the doctor goes about updating his patient information, which is all digital and stored on the computer, involving a passcode, a name and navigating through several screens worth of readouts and icons; all of which were infinity easier to understand when compared with the readouts produced by the computers in Konoha’s research division, encoded as they all were.  Three days later and he has access to all his medical files and the files of every one of Wada’s other patients.

Tonight, Kakashi has the time to properly read them. Hopefully, there would be no complications with his eye, and he could clear himself for experimentation. His chakra levels were good enough for it.

‘Name: ‘Kakashi [no surname]’/ Address: ‘[n/a]’ / Sex: ‘M’ / Blood type: ‘O’ / DOB: [n/a] /

No family or medical proxy located. Hospital billing to be covered under City of Hosu Villain/Hero Collateral Damage Register.

Quirk Factor: ‘Sharingan’ [Primary Effect: n/a]; [Activation: n/a] [Type: emitter] [Secondary Effect: passive regeneration]’

Kakashi scrolls through his report, committing the information to memory, eyeing the many notes on his physical and mental wellbeing, listing his various broken bones, sprains, and other injuries, most of which Kakashi is aware of, all of which were well on their way to recovery.

'...Early concerns expressed over collapse of right lung and damage to respiratory system are being reassessed due to passive accelerated regeneration....'

Ah yes, he vaguely remembers something going straight through his chest during the fight. He examines the surgeon's notes which recommend close monitoring and an extended hospital stay alongside various medications.

'...Additional concerns over potential complications due to prior injuries/scarring (see attached report)....’

Hmm, he skims over a note describing older scaring around his chest. The report has flagged quite a few of his past scars and bone breaks as concerning and evidence of past physical stress involving combat. Not too far off the truth. Something to keep in mind if they ever asked him about his past. Honestly, he is somewhat impressed by the thoroughness of the report and the efforts gone through to keep him healthy. Linked is to medical notes are details of the two surgeries he had undergone while unconscious alongside various other actions the hospital had taken in their bid to keep him alive.

‘Primary quirk factor confirmed by the patient as single-ocular quirk ‘sharingan’ located in the left eye. Quirk most likely to be a passive emitter type with line of sight or eye contact as an activation requirement. Quirk effect is unknown. ‘Sharingun’ was restored during surgy under the supervision of Sueno Manzo and predicted to retain its function upon recovery barring further complication.’

‘Patient exhibits the symptoms of memory loss, apathy, and confusion suggesting a case of post-traumatic amnesia. If quirk has a memory storage function as is typical of ocular quirks then there may be a link between the quirk effect, damage to eye, and memory loss symptoms. Diagnosis requires a second opinion. Requested consolation with Neurologist and Ocular-Quirk Specialist still pending.'

‘Secondary quirk or mutation factor ‘regeneration’ increases patient’s metabolism and bodily functions, resulting in increased cell repair and recovery. Without a baseline for recovery speed predicted recovery timeframe is unknown.’ 

Well, ‘predicted to retain its function’ was good enough. All the major concerns raised by the doctor were linked to memory loss that didn’t exist. Kakashi ducks out of the office, heading back to his room. It was interesting to know that his recovery rate was considered abnormally fast. Fast enough to be considered a ‘quirk’ in its own right. No doubt a side effect of chakra use. It was a well-known fact that shinobi with developed coils recovered from injuries faster than civilians.

He would have to keep this in mind when engaging the locals in combat. The people here would have slower recovery rates when compared with Konoha’s civilians, who still had chakra even if their coils were underdeveloped. He wouldn’t want to accidentally kill someone misjudging their ability to heal from an injury.

…

...

With patience born from his many years of field experience, Kakashi waits for the next shift change before sneaking out once more. His destination is the hospital’s roof. Guarded by one solitary security camera- which he had disabled two days ago and had yet to be fixed- it is the only place he can go and be reasonably sure not to be disturbed for any length of time. Generally, cameras were pretty useless against any shinobi who could pull off an academy level transformation or a basic genjutsu. Even when the cameras were hidden, most shinobi moved too fast to be reliably picked up on film. He is not sure if that reasoning applied here, seeing as the technology was significantly more advanced.  Regardless, as he was recovering and conserving both energy and chakra, avoiding them is his best bet. Most of the cameras he notes are on the outside of the building, placed in plain sight with no care taken to keep them hidden. He wonders if there is a purpose to that. Enforcement of compliance through a display of observation? Are they decoys and there is additional security hidden somewhere he wouldn’t think to look? Is he falling into some sort of trap sneaking around so obviously and gathering information? It was hard to answer these questions when he has no baseline to draw from. As he had yet to see evidence of extensive security or traps in the building he is proceeding with his plan.  

It is early morning when he ducks out onto an empty roof, having stolen the key from what he thinks are the hospital's maintenance lockers the day prior. The air outside is cool, devoid of the stench of disinfectant that had been clogging his nose for the last few weeks. He hated how smell played havoc on his sensitive nose, blocking his sinuses.

Shielded on one side by a taller, windowless section of the building he has a good view of a wide two-lane road where the occasional vehicle would enter or exit the building. At night the area is quiet save for the hum of a distant activity, probably more of the engine-run vehicles, which were irritatingly noisy and commonly used by the people here.

The sky above him begins to lighten. Soon the sun would peak between the tall glass-covered buildings opposite the hospital. The artificial structures shimmer, reflecting the whitening sky. A trip into the busier sections of the ‘city’ is still impending, all his attention being focused on scouting the hospital and absorbing as much information about the place as possible first.

The first test he does is an attempt at summoning his nin-dogs. He has a few ideas on how he might reverse summon himself between worlds or, at the very least, send a message to let people know he was still alive.

Quickly, he bites his thumb, crouches, touching the roof with his palm and pumping in the required amount of chakra. For a second, he thinks it might work. Lines of inked fuinjutsu characters blossom under his palm, spiralling outward, absorbing the chakra. However, instead of activating in a puff of summoning smoke, the energy disperses, sinking into the dead, chakra-less concrete, the seal failing. Frowning, he uses the remaining blood on his thump to sketch out a simple storage array. It activates, sealing in a loose piece of brick without a problem. No, it wasn’t the fuinjutsu that had failed but the nin-dog summoning specifically. There went that plan.

Somewhat disheartened, he begins unbandaging the left side of his head. Just as the sunlight begins to peak between the buildings opposite, he opens the sharingan.

The chakra drain creeps up as the world around him snaps into sharp focus. Every crack in the brick, every mote of dust, every wisp of cloud, is clearly outlined even as colour is dulled to increase contrast.  Kakashi glances around and waits, letting the image of the foreign skyline burn into his brain to be forever stored and remembered in crisp detail.

After a few seconds without significant pain, he lets out a long breath and prepares for the mental strain of activating the Kamui Sharingan. The process brings with it flashes of memory, Obito’s scared face twisted with hate, and a blurry battle. The memories were all faint and far off despite having the Sharingan active at the time. He rubs his chest in discomfort. He thinks he knows who might have stabbed him now. Obito…He releases a tired breath and shoves all the uncomfortable revelations off to the side where they wouldn’t bother him. There would be plenty of time to ruminate at a later.  

Kakashi lets the first stage of Kamui activate, making sure there is nothing in his eyeline. He doesn’t want to accidentally destroy the stairway that led back into the hospital by sucking it into a different dimension. After confirming that the technique is stable and the charka drain is manageable, be prepares to pull himself through, ignoring the beginnings of a faint headache. Despite it being a brand new technique, Kakashi is nothing if not a master at reverse engineering ninjutsu on the fly to suit his own needs. The world warps and shimmers, his chakra levels take a nosedive, and his eye aches.

 A field of unmarked stone appears in place of the hospital roof, displacing tall buildings with uniform blocks of grey, white and black. An eternal, unchanging landscape, dimly lit despite there being no light source, stretches out in all directions. The Kamui no Jikūkan, time–space dimension. There is no signs of destruction or the battle he now vaguely remembers occurring before he had been ripped away from the Elemental Nations altogether. He wishes he could recall how it had ended. Had Obito re-joined the fight with Madara? He hopes not. He hopes he at least managed to take Obito out and give his allies a better chance. Obito was his burden to shoulder after all.

As he tries to dig up something useful from his patchwork of memories relating to his battle with Obito, a faint secondary chakra source catches his attention. The thread of chakra is distance, connecting to something very far off. Obito’s eye? A lingering connection between the two eyes was the only thing that made any sort of sense. He vaguely remembers how he had been in the process of activating the Kamui no Jikūkan when the area had been flooded with demonic chakra.

This is good…If it is Obito, and Obito is still in the Elemental Nations, then he might be able to reverse the collection and pull himself back. The only problem with this plan was that he would need the same amount of chakra to return or risk killing himself. In other words, he needs a lot of chakra. Far more than he has or will ever have access to naturally. As he is the only being with chakra here, this is a problem.

Kakashi lets out another tried breath, “Always a problem…” the area around him remains silent. He knows the theory behind chakra draining and collecting seals. With a bit of patience and self-discipline, he would be able to slowly build up and store the chakra needed to return.

Well, he would definitely be breaking his record for lateness by a long shot. He runs calculations and comes up with a depressing year-long wait time. And that was if he dumped every ounce of his chakra into the seal the moment he got it. Obviously, that would turn him into a comatose vegetable and, as nice as he thinks these people are, he doesn’t trust them to look after his unconscious body for a year. So, it would be double, maybe even triple, that time.

Three years of waiting in this weird unknown word unless someone on the other end of the connection figured out how to bring him back. He had seen Naruto pull of miracles before so…maybe there was hope? Though, everyone might just think he had died given how badly injured he had been just before his disappearance. If that were the case, then no one was coming for him and he would be on his own for the foreseeable future.

“Mah, what a pain.”

He crouches examining one of the plain blocks, massaging the area around his eye. It stings and he is beginning to feel chakra fatigued. He can almost imagine the familiar names of the memorial stone etched into its surface. By the time he returned, the fourth great war would be well and truly over, assuming time moved at a similar speed between here and there. He supposed it was fitting. He wouldn’t be Kakashi if he didn’t let the people he cared about down one last time.

He lets out a long sigh and reverses the Kamui technique, letting himself fade back to his new world and reality. 

The chakra exhaustion hits him like a landslide and he stumbles onto one knee. His eye, which had been aching since he initiated the Kamui no Jikūkan, is now wet. The wetness turns out to be blood, which is pooling like tears and running down the left side of his face.

Maybe he had been pushing it, using the full Kamui after wasting a bunch of chakra on summoning when he had barely been at half his capacity to start. That, and he was obviously still healing.

Blearily, Kakashi wipes his face with the back of his hand heaving himself back upright. He has dealt with way worse. With one last glance at the sun now shining brightly from between the strange buildings of his new temporary home, he heads back inside to find something sterile to clean his eye with.

He collapses back into his hospital bed where he causes a stir as the nurse checking in on him notices the blood soaking through his hastily applied bandages. He lets them fuss in contemplative silence.

NEXT

[waka-chan-out]

Hey, it's Fay!

Happy 700 bestie!!!! You know what time it is? Time for your milestone Ushijima fic! (I did take some inspiration from your pet name tag)

You and Ushijima are coworkers. You're not that close. You've got a pretty professional relationship, but he laughs whenever you make a joke and sometimes he'll bring you a drink when he knows you've been working hard.

And yeah, it's no secret, he's extremely handsome. He's solid and well-built under the work shirts that hug tight over his broad chest and shoulders. At the end of the workday, you might catch him with his sleeves rolled up, tie loose, biting his lip in concentration as he looks over some papers. You have a little workplace crush on him, but that's all it is, its never going to come to anything.

You're staying late one day looking over your work for the hundredth time.

"Oh." A deep voice says from the door to your office. "I thought I was the last one here." You look up to see Ushijima, brow furrowed.

You look at the clock on the wall. "Oh, god, it's later than I thought. I'd better get going."

He nods. "I was just leaving. I'll walk with you."

You gather your things and shoot him a smile as you walk past him to the elevators.

"So." He starts. You stop and turn to look at him. "Do you... have dinner plans?"

"Not really, why?"

He runs a hand through his hair in a reflexive gesture. "Well I just- I just thought maybe you and I could grab something to eat."

The two of you step into the elevator and the doors shut on the office. You don't want to make any assumptions. Coworkers got dinner all the time, it didn't have to mean anything. "What did you have in mind?"

He's silent. "I didn't really think it through this far."

That startles a laugh out of you. "Well there's a great pizza place near-"

The elevator jerks and you lose your balance, you fall into Ushijima and the two of you fall to the ground, you on top of him. It doesn't feel very awkward, or even strange. It's a weird thing to thing but you kind of fit like this, in this position. If he notices that you're using him as a mattress he doesn't say anything, he's too busy staring up at the lights, which have gone red. "The elevator stopped."

His eyes flicked back to you and you became increasingly aware that you were lying on top of him. You scrambled to roll off of him so that you were on your back next to him. "Sorry, Ushijima-"

He wraps a large hand around your wrist "Call me Wakatoshi. Please."

"Okay." You turn to smile at him. "Wakatoshi." You pull your phone out of your pocket and hold it above your head. "I've got reception."

The call with emergency services is short and unremarkable, and you come out of it with the news that you're going to have to wait at least an hour.

Ushijima, standing against the back wall,, lets out a dark chuckle, then a switch flips and he's laughing. He laughs with his whole body, his shoulders shake, he throws his head back, revealing the long line of his neck. He's infectious, suddenly the two of you are laughing and you have no idea why.

He's still laughing, he holds out a hand as if to steady himself, and it ends up on your shoulder, you feel the warmth of his touch, the gentleness of his hand. "I'm sorry, its just. I finally get up the courage to ask you to dinner, and you almost say yes. And then the elevator just breaks!"

That sets you off again, you're just thinking about how ridiculous this all is. You're both leaning on each other because you're both laughing too hard to hold yourselves up.

As the laughter winds down, something strikes

"Why did you have to get up the courage to ask me to dinner?" You say, slowly piecing out the answer in your head. Hope rises brightly in your chest.

He looks at you, neither of you have moved away. "I like you. A lot. I think you're amazing, and I know that you probably don't feel the same way, but-"

You grab him by the tie and pull him closer to you, halfway through the motion, he surges forward and your lips meet. He's so gentle. His hands find either side of your face. You tilt your head, press your lips together a little harder and he takes the direction, kissing you a little rougher. You nip at his lower lip and the sound he makes, a low growl, runs down your whole body, you feel it in your fingers, you feel it in your toes, you feel it pooling warmly in your stomach.

The two of you come up for air. Wakatoshi "I'm sorry."

You lean your foreheads together "why the hell would you be sorry for that?"

"This wasn't how I planned it, I was gonna take you to dinner, tell you all about how I felt.

You shrug. "I don't need it. I like you. I really do. Have for a while actually."

"Really?"

You smile. "I can't count how many times I've thought about you, about this. Every time you'd bring me something to drink, or smile when I said something stupid."

"What did you think about?"

"Well, mainly this," you lean up to place a slow, deep kiss on his lips. "And other things."

"What kind of other things?"

"Lots of things." Your hands reach down to unbuckle his belt. "You, earing me out under my desk..." you palm him through his boxers and he gasps. "Ripping those goddamn work shirts off you..."

You feel him hardening under your palm. He clears his throat. "I have. Um. There's a condom in my wallet." He rustles around in his pocket and retrieves it.

You lean your head back and raise an eyebrow as you take the foil square from his fingers. "Hoping for the best this morning?"

He shrugs. "I'm an optimist."

You step back and away from him, he moves to follow but you shake your head and push him backwards. He frowns, confused, but moves where you put him. You lean back against the side wall of the elevator. "Strip."

His eyes go dark with lust, and he wastes no time in ridding himself of his shirt and slacks. He stands there in his boxers.

"All the way."

He pulls them off and his cock springs free, hard and so much bigger than you'd expected.

"Jesus christ." You say before you can stop yourself, and he smiles.

"I know. You don't have to-" he moans into your mouth as you roll the condom on and stroke him slowly.

"Get on your back," you command. "I'm going to ride you, is that alright?"

"Yes!" He clears his throat. "Yes."

Your hand closes tighter around his cock and he whimpers. "Yes...?"

"Yes ma'am."

You could get off on those two words alone. He sits on his discarded clothes and looks up at you, he reaches under your pencil skirt to feel the fabric between your legs. "Oh." He says "you're wet."

He moves the fabric aside to slide a rough but tender finger across your folds.

You gently move his hand away and pull your panties off under your skirt to afford him better access. His hands find your hips, and he rolls up the skirt, leaving your legs bare. "Come here, baby," and he pulls you down toward him.

Together, you line each other up, and when you sink down onto him, you feel like he was made for you. You feel so full. You move apart and then sink together again. "Oh god. Ushi- fuck. You feel so good -toshi, oh!"

You roll your hips and he tosses his head back with a cry. You pick up the pace, and the sound get louder and more intense.

"Toshi," you moan. "I'm close."

His hand comes between you to circle your clit. Your feel yourself clenching around him with a shout, and him bucking up into you, coming, only moments later.

You collapse on to him, letting yourself appreciate how good it feels this time.

"So. That's a yes to dinner?"

You laugh and feel his heartbeat against your chest. "That’s a yes to dinner."

(I hope you enjoyed this! Congrats again!!! You deserve all this and more! (P.s. seeing my name on the masterlist made my heart so happy. I saw it and I thought I was hallucinating. I'm really happy to have made such an impact on you))

FAAAYYYYYYY!!!!!!

i think you can read my mind because i’m such a whore for the coworkers to lovers trope i think i’m going to go insane. and i had to physically set my phone down at that “yes ma’am.” i swear to god you are going to be the death of me.

thank you so much and of course you’re on the list! people (((mostly me!!!!))) have really liked everything you’ve sent in so far and i know i definitely don’t want to lose these so onto the masterlist they go :) god damn. idk what i did to deserve such high quality content in my inbox but i am GRATEFUL.

[fallen-gravity]

Soft Hearts and After-Midnight Talks

Ford can’t let go of the past. Mabel can’t stop worrying about the future.

Put together, they’re a melting pot of insomnia and overwhelming emotions.

AO3 Link

Love had never come easy to Ford. 

As a kid, his father always said it wasn’t manly to show affection. It made a man weak to wear his heart on his sleeve, and he was merely doing him a favor by showing him tough love, because out in the real world the men who put their emotions first would get torn to shreds. 

His mother tried her hardest, but she too had times where she was too busy running her psychic hotline or helping Pa run the pawn shop to pay him much attention.

Ford supposes the closest he ever had to unconditional love as a kid came from Stan. Whenever Ma or Pa were too busy, or the kids at school were screaming and running from his deformity, he knew he could always rely on Stan to be there for him. He’d always been the one to throw a punch for him, to talk him through a panic attack, patch up the scrapes and black eyes he’d received from Crampelter, or even assure him that getting a B minus on an exam wasn’t the end of the world, even if his eyes were rolling into the back of his skull the entire time he said it.

 But even that sort of love felt fickle. The night of the science fair, it felt as though something inside of Ford shriveled up and died, and he knew that the rejection from West Coast Tech was only the half the cause of it.

When Stan drove off into the night, it’s as if he took that shriveled up little piece of Ford with him as his grand final fuck you. 

After that, Ford tried everything he could. In college he buried himself into the research he was most passionate for, but that could only get him so far when Fiddleford would drag him to bed and force him to be alone with his thoughts. He’d tried going out drinking to forget said thoughts, but he learned the hard way that he was an emotional drunk and alcohol only made those thoughts worse. 

If there’s anything he did know, it’s that this lack of love in his life could probably explain how he was able to fall for Bill’s cunning tricks so easy.

“Unlovable?” Bill’s words still rang in the back of his head. “By the time this portal’s finished, you’ll have the whole world at your feet! You’ll be a household name! There’ll be thousands cheering the name Stanford Pines, the man who changed the world!” 

What a fool he’d been, blissfully ignoring all of the warning signs for even the slightest chance that a gateway between worlds could earn him love.

What an even bigger fool he’d been to turn away his brother’s love even after ten years of nothing but fear and resentment standing between them.

Ford sighs. He knows, logically, that dwelling on the past will only make things worse. He knows things are okay between him and Stan now. They’re setting off on their first journey on the Stan-O War II next week; things couldn’t get any better between them.

But he also knows that insomnia and intrusive thoughts are a package deal. He’d tried sitting out on the front porch to gaze at the stars and feel the late-summer air on his face to relax, but his inner demons always find their way. 

There’s a tiny knock on the doorframe behind him. He jumps at the noise, and turns to see who else could possibly be awake at nearly three in the morning. He’s half expecting Stan, but to his surprise it’s Mabel, sleepily rubbing at her eyes with one hand and holding a half-empty cup of ice water in the other. 

“Grunkle Ford?” her voice is groggy and strained. “Is that you?” 

“Mabel?” is the only comprehensive response that comes out. “What are you doing up so late?” 

“Dipper cursed me with his insomnia and now I can’t sleep” she pouts, and takes a sip from her cup like it’s a shot glass as he joins him on the couch. “Why are you still up, Grunkle Ford?” she squints. “I feel like I should ask you the same question” 

He chuckles. “Nothing you need to worry about, dear. I’m just doing some thinking”

“Hmmm…” she squints long and hard at him, like she’s trying to read his mind. “Okay, but I’m watching you. I’m the expert at annoying people until they tell me what’s bothering them” 

Ford can’t help but smile. “Noted,” he replies, and shifts his position so he’s facing more towards her. “What about you? I’m the expert in insomnia, so I can’t imagine it’s the only thing keeping you awake"

For the briefest of moments, Mabel’s playful smile drops. She hides the sudden shift by taking another sip of water.

“What? Psshhh…” she dismisses the thought with a wave of her hand. “That’s silly! Everyone knows insomnia means you can’t sleep for no reason. Some expert you are, Grunkle Ford” 

She smiles, but it’s strained, and fake, and nothing like the usual smile she flashes when she’s joking around. 

“Mabel.” Ford says once, in a firm yet soft tone, and she winces. 

“Okay, fine” she mumbles, and drinks the rest of the water from her cup before she continues. “I’ve been having some dumb thoughts too”. 

Ford shakes his head. “There’s no such thing as a dumb thought, Mabel. Even if it’s bothering you, it’s indicative of how you’re really feeling” he pats gently at his lap, inviting her to scoot closer. “Maybe I can help” he smiles, ever so slightly, ever so softly. “Even us experts mess up in our own fields sometimes” 

She moves too quickly into his arms for a hug for him to read her expression properly. 

“Then I feel like a big dumb hypocrite” Mabel murmurs into Ford’s sweater, her voice on the edge of breaking. 

Ford frowns, and places an arm around her to reciprocate the hug. “What for?”

Mabel scrunches up his sweater in her fists. “I...I made this whole big ordeal about Dipper wanting to stay here with you after the summer’s over for the apprenticeship, and I still don’t want us to be apart, but…”  she buries her face into his sweater, like she’s ashamed of herself for even daring to speak them. “...now that summer’s actually over, and Dipper and I are supposed to be leaving in the morning, I’m not sure I even want to leave” 

Her voice finally breaks, and she sniffles into his sweater. “Everyone’s always saying that the real world is so scary, and high school is the worst, and all these things about not knowing what you had until it’s gone, and...I don’t want it to be gone, Grunkle Ford, I love Gravity Falls. But I can’t just tell Dipper that, because then he’ll get all worried, and think that he did something wrong, because he’s already apologized for what he said when we were fighting a thousand times, and-”

Ford gently grips Mabel’s shoulders to cut her off, and pulls her away to make her look him in the eyes. “Mabel, are you going through all of this trouble because you’re worried you’re going to...miss Gravity Falls when you get home?”

“Not just the town!” Mabel exclaims, and rubs at her eyes with her wrist. “I’m gonna miss everything! I’m gonna miss the Shack, I’m gonna miss my friends, I’m gonna miss you and Stan,” she counts off on her fingers and sighs. “I miss everyone at home. I do. But now that I have so many friends here, I don’t want to feel like I’m leaving them behind”

There’s a brief pause, but before Ford can open his mouth to respond, Mabel goes on, murmuring so quietly it’s as if she doesn’t mean to speak out loud at all. 

“Or...I don’t want to feel like they’re leaving me behind.”

...Oh.

The fear of being left behind.

Forgotten.

The fear of becoming….unlovable. 

That….Ford knows better than anybody. 

“Mabel, listen to me,” Ford gently tugs on her chin to force her to make eye contact with him. “Nobody in this town is ever going to forget you. It doesn’t matter if you’re gone for a year, or three, or ten, I can guarantee that the next time you step foot in this town everyone’s going to remember the name Mabel Pines”

“You...really think so?” she blushes. 

“I know so,” he nods. “And it’s got nothing to do with Weirdmageddon, or saving the world, or any of that. It’s because you’re magnetic, Mabel. You’ve got a personality that everyone loves. I bet that pizza delivery man you became pen pals with is just sitting at home eagerly awaiting his first letter from you” 

She giggles. “I don’t know about that…” 

“Still,” Ford continues, “You’ve shown kindness to everyone, Mabel. People don’t forget kindness easily.” he gestures out towards the forest. “Gravity Falls may not be your home, but the people who lived here sure don’t seem to see it that way. You’re not just a tourist, or just some kid visiting her great uncle, you’re one of them.” he beams. “They’re lucky to have had you, Mabel, even just for the one summer” 

Her eyes have pools of tears in them, but the beaming smile on her face outshines them. She hurls herself at him in a tight hug, burying her face deep into his sweater. 

“I’m lucky to have you too, Grunkle Ford” she murmurs. “I love you”

I love you.

Ford hasn’t had those words spoken to him since he was a kid. 

I love you.

It feels like he’s floating on air, and the most grounded he’s felt in decades. It’s freeing, and exhilarating, yet it’s comfortable, and warm. It’s unfamiliar, yet everything he ever lost. 

The words ring in his ears and bounce around in his chest before they settle comfortably into the piece of his heart that had been broken for decades.

I love you. 

Mabel Pines, after everything he’s put her through, loves him. 

A sound escapes him that’s halfway between choking and sobbing. He pulls her even closer into his arms, and silently vows to never let the cruel world dig its pessimistic claws into her for as long as she lives.

“I love you too,” he manages to whisper, and gives her a smooch on the top of her head.