#the way i got emotional when he went after him

[madamechrissy]

Took you Like a Shot

Pairings- Rich Frat/fuckboi Toru x Preppy Sorority reader

Summary- One VERY drunk encounter between your greatest rival ever - on your last day of college- leads to you being knocked up. Satoru Gojo, a fuckboy, fratboy, rich little jerk, has been a rival of yours since you all met in College, every damn grade you fought for he got with ease. He crashed every Sorority party you threw. The two of you are so infamous in your rivalry, your friend groups were rivals, and for some reason, life is playing some damn joke on you both. Now... you have to tell him the news - but how Satoru takes it surprises you. Can you both raise a baby together!? And do you even really know each other?

Contents/Warnings- gonna be flashbacks to the rivalry/that night, nerdjo but make him a fratboy, enemies to kind of begrudging partners, but then as the pregnancy progresses, they fall in love hehe (gojo is an idiot) MDNI - flashbacks of their past rivalry, Satoru being silly but sweet, reader getting insecure, both are emotional, mentions of pregnancy/body changes, explicit sex, oral (f recieiving) cervix kisses, squirting, mirror sex, talking you through it, LOTS of humor- WC- this chap- 8.4k - art in the banner by Yuana on X

Comments and reblogs so appreciated if you enjoyy <3 (extras here and here)

<<<Chapter Two - Masterlist - Playlist- Chapter Four (soon)>>>

Chapter Three

A month later- four months along

You really hope Satoru makes it in time, he’s texted you plenty and sent you many silly selfies - fuck the two of you had phone sex - you blush as you remember just what kind of picture was sent after that. He’s called every single night to speak to you, to the point the two of you are learning more and more about each other, yes he’s kind of an idiot, but he’s also kind of brilliant.

Conceited and cocky, yet slightly insecure about things and vulnerable, terrified of having a baby but excited, the duality of Satoru Gojo was never anything like what you knew him as for the past five years. You remember hating his attitude, his advances, remembering how ‘easy’ things were for him, but the more you all talk, the more that changes.

You’re not mad he went on his trip, everything would change for him, why not let him have fun, but you find yourself… lonely. You don’t know what that sex meant to him, but it was almost as if… maybe you could see that future? Maybe you could see something coming of it.

Are you way off?

You’ve seen the numerous pictures of Satoru and his friends all over every bit of instagram, girls in their bikinis surrounding the group, you never see Satoru not around someone, though he keeps the distance, his arm is usually around Suguru’s shoulders. He looks so happy, so carefree you muse, feeling the complete opposite of just how you feel - exhausted.

You’re already more than ‘poochy’ though many people still haven’t assumed you’re pregnant, flowy empire waisted dresses have curbed anyone assuming so, which is ideal considering you just started getting on camera. Last week was the start of your new segment, where you go over the current news, it’s for celebrities for now, but you hope one day to get to the heavy hitting things.

“And with that, I send it back to you.” You finish your segment with a smile at the camera, the director shouts - cut! - and everyone starts clearing up, getting ready for the next person on the floor.

You blink a bit, bright lights shooting in your face are still overwhelming, when the director comes up to you, smiling, his eyes roving just a little too much on your body. “You did great.”

“Oh thank you!”

“You look great, too.” The female director steps up, snidely scowling down at your body now, making you tense.

“But remember the camera adds ten pounds, maybe a salad for lunch instead of those hot cheetos?” You feel your cheeks heat up furiously, as the crew watches curiously at you.

You’ve gained five pounds this month and it’s all in your tummy and tits. “No, I think you look great, don’t worry.” He says again, but the snobby woman rolls her eyes at him.

“Just looking out for you. Maybe we could be… friends?” She suggests, making you blink in shock and embarrassment.

You want to tell them you’re pregnant but you’re too terrified- it’s too new, so not just yet, you’re so worried they’ll take this away after working so hard… you’d eventually have to tell them, when you can’t hide it anymore, but for now, you’ll pretend you’ve just eaten a lot of hot cheetos.

“No, that’s true I will remember the camera adding ten pounds. Thanks for looking out.” You manage, this was Hollywood and this was the norm, you expected just about this much anyway, ten extra pounds is a lot for the position.

God how big would you get!?

You’re frowning then, when you recall the conversation, and see it.

A stretch mark.

“Fuck… shit. Already!?” You’re panicking, how do you get one four months in!? You look like you have a food baby, surely, it’s not even that big yet and there it is, clear as fucking day.

You hear the doorbell ring then, sliding your shirt down to hide the evidence of it, how much cocoa butter did you need!? You basically bathe in the shit every fucking day- and now this already. You expected some later on perhaps, when you were bigger. Frustrated and upset, you open the door to see Satoru’s face, just a little sunburnt, and his eyes are bloodshot red even as he grins.

“Hey sweets. Miss me?”

Yes.

“Maybe.” You murmur, glaring just a bit while Satoru struggles to focus, head hammering then.

“Can I get some water, ibuprofen, some eggs-” He blinks you into focus now, seeing tears in your eyes, hitting him over the head like a freezing cold bucket of water suddenly. “Shit, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing… just…” You can’t take it then, you’re sobbing, as he fumbles, trying to pat your back, pulling you against him just a bit.

“Missed me that badly?” You take a shaky breath, swiping at your tears now.

“I’m getting…” You pull back, and in one month your tummy has rounded some, a gentle curve, your tits are swollen already, begging for his mouth. Satoru can’t take just how gorgeous you are then, exhaling, hands on your hips.

“Getting sexy?” He asks softly, and you shake your head.

“You’re fucked up, that’s why you think it.”

“What now?” He glares, sobering up with every moment you’re acting like such a brat. “What funhouse mirror are you checking? Are they being mean at work or some shit!?”

“They mentioned I should stop eating hot cheetos. But… they don’t know I’m pregnant so.” Satoru frowns then, brushing his hand across your hip now, thumb pressing little circles, making your breath catch with the intimacy.

“You didn’t tell them?”

“I’m too scared to lose the job…”

“But you can’t hide it forever.”

“I know.”

“Is that why you’re crying?” His surprisingly sharp gaze flickers when you shake your head. “Why are you?”

“I have a stretch mark already.” He frowns when you lift up your shirt, showing him it, a mark that glints under the lights. “I’m eating too many fucking hot cheetos, they’re right, ugh!”

He laughs then, thumb brushing the mark, seeing goosebumps raise as he does so, before getting on his knees, making you gasp. “This right here?” He asks softly, eyeing you under his snowy lashes, your hands come to rest on his shoulders, nodding a bit.

“Y-yes, already Satoru. And I’m meticulous about this stupid cocoa butter.” You’re exhaling as he kisses the mark, lips against your skin, your tummy flutters with desire, fuck you had missed him.

“It’s sexy.” His whisper sends shivers across your body, you almost whine out how good it feels.

“It’s so not.”

“I like it. Stop being mean to yourself, what will the baby think if they hear this all the time, hmm?” He presses another kiss on your tummy, touching your heart then, right above your belly button, as his hands warmly palm your hips. “If you’re mean to yourself the baby will get upset.”

“How does it know?” You’re sniffling now.

“Babies know their surroundings, you don’t want to stress them, hmm?”

“You… read up on it?” He smiles a bit, nodding, your earlier response of being so irritated at him is fading, you find yourself stroking his hair, as he rests his forehead on your tummy. “You’re right. You’re right.”

“I love to hear that, where was this all of college, hmm?”

“I bet you do.” You pull him up now, seeing him sway just a bit, sighing. You want to tell him he shouldn’t show up fucked up, but the sweetness of the moment speaks louder than his immaturity. “Let’s get you some food before we go.”

“I think I love you.”

After you’ve made Satoru an enormous omelette, which he devours with fervor in your little kitchen as you sip on a decaf- that’s depressing isn’t it? - something almost feels… natural about it. About the sunlight filtering through those blinds, lighting the two of you up, little dustmotes floating through the beams of light, flashing just so on his pretty face.

Satoru leans back, grinning and rubbing his tummy. “I’ll have a food baby, we could match you know.”

You snort, rolling your eyes and sipping the hot liquid. “I can’t see you matching this, I feel like a whale.”

“You’re not at all.” He frowns now, eyeing you slowly. “You look so good I’d like to put you on this table and eat you.”

You blink at his bold words, igniting something insane inside you, color dancing on your cheeks as your thighs shift, earning his smirk. “You’re so crazy.”

“You want it. Well, c’mere then.” He shoves his plate out of the way, tapping the table as you can’t help but giggle. “Think I’m kidding? Think I don’t want you spread for me?”

“Jesus Satoru…” You take a step now, then another, setting down the coffee on the counter. “Did you miss me so bad?”

Yes, he did.

He wants your taste to soak into him again.

He smiles though, hands on your hips when you finally stand right between his spread thighs, just inhaling you. “God you smell so sweet.”

“Mnh…” Just a kiss and a tug over your shorts has you weak, your fingers brushing through his silky locks, when your phone starts blaring the alarm. “Oh shit… the ultrasound.”

“Mmm, can we be late?” He raises a brow and you feel so sexy then, it’s like all your worries fade for just a moment.

“No, but…” You kiss him quickly, disentangling yourself now. “Thank you.”

“Don’t have to thank me for wanting to have two meals for breakfast. What do they call that, nerd, hmm?” Your lips twitch as he stands, so tall his hair is just a couple inches from your ceiling, you feel so small then, your heart thrumming in your chest as the two of you stand in your homey little kitchen.

You shouldn’t feel so much, think so much, he’s being sweet and supportive but… your heart and mind are racing places they should not. Thinking you’d love to just have him here, how funny a man who you used to ‘hate’ has become so precious in a month to you, even his phone calls and texts were more comforting than either of you are willing to admit.

“Second breakfast.” You answer, he chuckles just a bit, tilting your chin up then, sighing.

“You’re prettier.”

“No…”

“Why would I lie? I’m not nice am I?” His brow raises, and you bite your lower lip then. “Remember when I hung all your panties all over and everyone took pictures?”

“Oh jesus, yes. You were so mad I beat your ass at beer pong.” You shove at him now, glaring and looking far too fucking cute as he grins.

“You lost at the drink off. And you shouldn’t have had so many panties.”

Oh yeah.

You almost forgot.

Gojo was a little fratboy ASS.

******

Two years ago

You throw your arms up, cheering along with everyone as you land that last bouncy white pong ball right inside Satoru Gojo’s last red solo cup, essentially tearing down the ‘king of beer pong’. A man that had never lost, just lost to a girl who never played, and the horror on his face, his parted glossy lips and wide blue eyes, were so amusing you couldn’t stand it.

Good.

“I want a rematch!” He demands, in the middle of a toga party, everyone dressed in wrapped sheets with gold glitter on their skin, the loud music reverberating as you cross your arms, grinning. “Damn demon.”

“Demon? No.” You giggle though, demonically he swears, batting your pretty lashes up at him. “Just bested you and you’re salty.”

“Me!? No, beginner’s luck, fuck that.” You’re deviously laughing again, when Satoru smirks. “Fine, a drink off.”

“A drink off!?”

“Yep, the loser gets to embarrass the other, they have to deal with whatever the winner wants. Agree?” He raises a thin white brow, as you eye him, he’s slender sure but he’s six foot four, he clearly could handle more than you. “Whoever can not puke, and still walk a straight line, wins.”

“Bet, I will own your ass.” Your girls, especially Shoko and Utahime giggle, cheering you on, as Suguru and Sukuna smirk at each other, high fiving, and soon an entire party is damn near silent, watching you two.

“Feeling weak, sweets?” Satoru taunts, slamming back a shot then, and you’re already fucking tipsy, three in, but you damn sure won’t show it, even as the liquor warms your entire body.

“Hah, no, m’feeling great.” You down yours, a droplet falling across your chin then, he touches you with a thumb before he can stop himself, making you both pause, and whispers amongst the party goers. Shit even the music is softer, as everyone watches the two rivals of their college go at it.

Satoru Satoru Satoru.

There’s a quiet chant of his name, and he downs another, throwing his arms up like the annoying frat boy he is, chiseled muscles glinting under the strobing leds ahead, you try to ignore how it makes you feel. You try to pretend the losers you’ve fucked with could compete with how badly you truly want Satoru, but you’d die before you ever told him the truth.

And as Satoru sits back down, and your girls chant your name, he can’t stop but look at just how beautiful your skin looks glinting with glitter under these lights, how you look like a fucking goddess in your tied up sheet. So gorgeous for a moment he forgets just where he is, who he is, tired of acting like any girl that joins his bed tonight could touch your beauty.

Not that he’d tell you, he’d die before he did, looking at your petulant little scowl, your haughty raised brow, as you cross your arms and tap your foot, he hates that he notices your pedicure. He hate that he loves the pretty white glitter, that even your fucking feet in sandals turns him on, and he especially hates one thing, how unaffected you are.

You’re the only girl ever that was.

And the only girl he’d die to have.

Satoru spent all of last night jerking it to your latest instagram post, not that you’d ever know, so fucking sexy, smart, your attitude even just makes him hard in your presence. In a room full of writhing bodies, giggling girls and drunk ass men, all trying to party and forget that finals are looming, that the real world is just a couple years away, all he can see is you.

He watches you down another shot, as you just get even hotter, the more you challenge him, feisty little brat, taking on a huge, grown ass man and giggling like you’re big and bad. He talks shit, you talk it right back, until Suguru calls it. - “Time! Let’s see who can walk a straight line, huh?” 

Both groups chant your names, but you do stumble then, and Satoru catches you in his arms, grinning as you pout. “Ugh no way!”

“He won.” Sukuna announces, everyone starts cheering or booing depending on whose side they were on, and Satoru tries not to think how good you feel in his fucking arms, how he’d love you to just stay there.

“Not fair, sweets, I’m way taller.”

“Whatever I tried!” You shove at him, stumbling again, and he frowns, tilting your chin up and looking into now drunk, dilated eyes.

“Let’s… get you to bed… and some water?” He murmurs then, you blink in your drunken haze, biting your lower lip, trying not to let the words out that always loom to the surface, that you want him, that you enjoy him, enjoy all your dumb ass fights, all your rivalry.

He motivates you, pushes you.

He’s gorgeous, his arms feel too fucking good.

Your brain swirls, tummy lurching just a bit, as you realize you’re good and fucked up. “I can do it myself.”

“Will you ever just let someone help you?” You shake your head, Satoru rolls his eyes, following you when you trip on the stairs now, giggling, landing right in his arms once more. “Let me take you to bed, brat.”

“Oh fine.” You let him pick you up in his arms, inhaling that expensive fucking cologne, the one only he wears, Creed something- you looked it up one day and knew this fucker was rich. “You smell good.”

“You are wasted.” He smirks as he carries you up the winding stairs, heading to your hall now, murmurs of curious partiers ensuing, and you’re just clinging even tighter to his neck. “Which room is yours?”

“Mmm, 6A.” He opens your door now, Satoru has never been in your room, he can’t help but smile when he sees the amount of Harry Potter merch, and the Lord of the Rings posters all over.

“So nerdy.”

“I’m a Slytherin, sss.” You earn his laughter, as he eases you down, eyeing how the sheet is falling, making him flush, clearing his throat. “Satoru is scared of a naked girl, no way.”

“You’re terrifying is all. In general.”

“Mmm, it’s the Slytherin in me. Whoopsie, I’m naked.” You’re giggling now, stumbling over to your dresser, Satoru faces away quickly, one thing he’d never do is take advantage of a drunk girl.

Even though he’s dying to know what your body looks like, he busies himself by going to your little fridge, pulling out a cool water bottle. “You need water.”

“Thanks dad.” You’re giggling as he turns back around, your top half off and turned, shorts barely on, Satoru grimaces, handing you the bottle, gently moving your top. “You’re not shitfaced?”

“Nah, I can hold a drink, lightweight.” You glare a bit, downing the bottle in thirsty gulps, moaning, the sound so sexy his dick twitches in reaction.

“Why do you hate me?” Your question catches him off guard, he gets your top adjusted just to see perky nipples pressing thin material.

“Why do you hate me, drunky?” He asks softly, and you sigh, stumbling a bit as he helps you into bed, leaning over you now, tensing as your fingers trace his jaw.

“You’re beautiful.” He pauses, laughing now.

“You’re annihilated.”

“You’re beautiful alright. Mmm. No wonder they all line up.” He’s setting your water down as you doze off now, kissing your head gently, something he never thought he’d do, let alone with you.

“And you’re gorgeous, stubborn brat.” His whisper is met with your snore, he can’t help but stare at you for longer than he should, before he smirks, looking back at your dresser.

He sure won.

And that means…

Revenge.

*****

Present day

“You hung up all my boxers as revenge, even my Digimon ones! I’d say you got revenge.” Satoru teases, not knowing if you remembered any of that night after you’d been so drunk, and you show no signs of recollection as he wolfs down the food hungrily.

“I sure did. Those Digimon ones were cute.”

He smirks now. “Those Slytherin panties were sexy.”

“Oh yeah?” You raise a brow, and he grins.

“Oh yeah.”

The ultrasound this time was over the tummy, thank goodness, and this time it’s a little different, Satoru’s hand is on yours as he sits next to you, much different than the mess the two of you had been last time. The cold clear ultrasound liquid pours on your slightly rounded tummy, the cool wand pressing, just a little uncomfortable as they press harder, and you two look at the screen.

“There it is.” The doctor says, and you and Satoru hold your breath, the baby already looks more like a baby, this time you see it moving, it’s little legs, it’s head, making you tear up, and Satoru holds his breath.

“Look, long legs like dad already.” He says, voice just a bit husky, you’re blinking tears back as you grin.

“Can we see if it’s a boy or girl?” You ask, and the doctor smiles warmly, nodding at you.

“We should be able to, yes. Let’s see…” The doctor looks this way and that, pressing in different places, taking pictures on the black and white screen, when they finally get the view. “You’re having a little girl.”

“Oh my god.” You both whisper at the same time, you smile tremulously at Satoru, who’s enamored so clearly.

“Satoruette!”

“No.”

“A girl, huh?” Satoru’s murmuring later, as he takes you back home, hanging in your doorway, resting his elbow on the frame, and your bright, pretty smile nearly ends him.

God he wants you.

“A girl. Here…” You take one of the photos, handing it to him, he pulls out a black leather wallet, putting it in delicately, smiling so big. “She’s beautiful already.”

“How could she not be? You see her parents?” You flush a bit, looking down as he caresses your cheek.

“I’d really… love company tonight. If you could stay.”

“One sec.” Satoru practically bounces to the car, telling Kiyotaka he could head home, you’re smiling with amusement as he runs back, clearing his throat and grinning down at you. “Are you making dinner?”

“I’m making dinner.” The two of you, it feels so comfortable, so fucking natural, as you all talk, about his business, about your career, about the little girl growing inside of you, both of your little girl.

“You’re an amazing cook, shit.” He’s rubbing his tummy, sipping on the tea you’ve made to go along with dinner, and watches you rinse off the plates, looking over your shoulder at him. “Be a cute housewife.”

“Oh whatever!” You splash a little water from your hands as you dry them then, and he stands, coming so close to you, voice husky as he presses you against the counter.

“You would be. Barefoot, pregnant, look at you.”

“Misogyny!” You’re giggling when he picks you up, kissing you, the motion ruining any hope you have of acting normal, you tremble in his hold, in how good you feel in his arms.

“Feminism is so overrated.”

You roll your eyes, heating up at your proximity, at how your body reacts to his nearness. “You’re too much.”

“Hmm…” He’s kissing down your neck now, sighing as he pulls back then, looking down at you, blue eyes lit up so bright they’re insane to take in. “You got something for me to sleep in?”

“Your boxers work.”

“Oh yeah, so slutty.” He’s murmuring, raising a brow, as the two of you start kissing over and over, until he’s lifted you right on the kitchen table, just like he did this morning. “Did she miss me?”

“Fuck yes.” He’s chuckling, slipping up your skirt now, finding your cunt hot and eager, slipping two fingers in and earning your soft whine, kissing down your throat as your head falls back. “Please.”

“Who knew all this time, just had to get you to cum to be nice?’

“You- mnh!” He’s cutting your protest off with another kiss, a curl of his fingers in your slick, eager cunt.

“How many times did you cum thinking of me?” His cocky question earns your half assed glare, before you whine out and he pulls back, sucking on his fingers and moaning. “Answer me if you wanna cum.”

“You’re the worst. How many times did you stroke him, hmm?” Satoru cries out as you turn the damn tables on him, stroking him over his slacks, finding him hard and throbbing, precum leaking even through the material, which you thumb now. “Every night looking at my picture?”

“Brat. Evil. Demon.” His cheeks flush as he eagerly unzips his pants now, and hungrily leans down, lapping at your cunt hungrily, tongue slipping up your slit, moaning at your taste. “You this soaked baby?”

“Fuck me, fuck me please!” He’s in a rush, he’d like to take his time, but he can’t stand not being inside of you one more moment. He shoves his cock in your tight little cunt, making you cum then and there, shattering and making him sensitive as he watches you, kissing your plump lips, hand entangling in your hair.

“God, fucking feel her. So wet, so perfect.” His words along with his strokes end you, as he presses you harder against your own kitchen table, dishes and utensils clattering to the floor.

Satoru is still dressed, shit so are you, as he slides his cock in your eager hole, stuffing you so full, your cunt dripping all over, pooling on the wood underneath the two of you, and your head falls back, smacking it with a loud thud then. You wince and he panics, holding his hand under your head now, pausing.

“Shit you good!?” He huffs, pausing his strokes, you nod now, as he rubs the growing bump.

“I’m good, please more.”

“Baby you’re pregnant, should you be bashing your head!?” You glare up at him, cunt gripping him and eliciting a whine.

“Fuck me.”

“Demanding!” You’re giggling, he hopes you aren’t loopy, when he fucks back into you, careful to keep a palm under your head.

“You’re… so thick, mnh, there!” He’s groaning, losing himself inside you, feeling your soft curves under him, your breasts in his grip before he pulls back, finding your clit and rubbing, making you convulse under him. “Satoru!”

“That’s it baby, that’s it… f-fuck oh my… are you…” You’re gushing now as he elicits an orgasm that has you squirting all over his cock, screaming out, slamming your damn head back again as he pauses. “Water break?’

“You!” He’s chuckling, playing with your cunt in wonder, easing back a bit, slapping his cock right on your clit, making you gush more clear arousal all over, as you grip him, cunt pulsing more and more.

“You squirt?”

“I g-guess…” You’re damn near delirious, blushing as you see the mess you’ve made now. “Oh I…”

“Messy girl, tsk. Don’t do that when you’re far along, I’ll panic.” You scowl again, as he’s chuckling, fucking his dick into you deeper, as you cling to him, and he hears the wet sounds of his fucking echo in your kitchen.

“You’re… ridiculous- ah!” He’s moaning now, closer and closer, tip leaking precum and dragging just that spot, having you cumming all over once more, until you’re so weak and fucked out that you can barely function, just clinging to him as he pushes you further, a hand entangling in your hair at the nape of your neck. “Yes, yes, yes…”

“Bossy. Bratty. I’d spank you, choke you if you- ah, cumming from the thought, can’t help yourself?” He’s talking shit but you can’t argue, not when you can’t stop cumming, and he’s looking down at you with those eyes of his. “Beautiful.”

“Mmm!” You drag him down for a kiss, whispering - ‘cum in me’ and Satoru is not going to deny you it, no he fills you so good, until you’re both a complete fucking mess, sweaty, sticky, coated in both of your cum. You laugh after a moment, and he leans up a bit, looking at you curiously. “You really said, ‘Did my water break’ you jerk!”

Satoru laughs with you, easing out and pressing sweet kisses on your cheeks. “It scared me.”

“Whatever! I didn’t know…” You trail off, so cute Satoru can’t stand it, as the realization that he did that makes him damn near feral.

“I’m the first to make you?” You nod shyly, burying your face, inhaling that cologne that always tantalizes you, and he hums a bit. “I like that.”

“Making me cum so much?”

“I like that it’s me that has. Maybe I’m… feeling a little possessive, you are my baby mama.” You giggle now, and he pulls back, lips parting, wanting to say more, but stopping himself a bit, dizzy off you. “Let’s clean up.”

Soon you’re both all ready for bed, and Satoru hops in first, taking over your bed almost entirely with his long lanky body, patting a spot next to him and grinning at you, you roll your eyes a bit. “You’re too big for the bed!”

“You could come to my house anytime you know. Way bigger beds.”

“Hmm.” You come to lay down now, and he pulls you against him, the two of you try to ignore just how good and right it feels, while he presses little kisses on your bare shoulders.

“Why’d you want me to stay, miss me so bad?”

“I’m… lonely without you.” He pauses, faltering in his teasing, leaning up on an elbow, turning your face to him, sighing as he sees the emotions there. “Ignore it.”

“Ignore it?”

“Yeah. We have our lives, I don’t want to complicate it more for you. It’s fine that you went, that you had fun.”

“I didn’t.” You blink curiously, as he sighs, pulling you even tighter against him, hard chest against your back, arm wrapped around your waist, a hand splaying your tummy, feeling so perfect, so right.

“You didn’t?”

“No. I missed you too. Okay?” You nod then, he kisses you softer, sighing, breath tickling your swollen lips. “Alright waterfall, go to bed.”

“Waterfall!?”

“Mmhmm, monsoon.”

“Oh jesus.” He’s chuckling, the mood is eased, but the two of you lay there for far too long, as he holds you tightly in his arms, thinking.

A girl, you’re both having a girl.

The baby feels so real now, as he holds you close, burying his face, hearing you lightly snore, smiling against your neck. He dreads going back to work, he dreads doing anything but holding you, kissing you, being with you. Of course having you cum all over his cock was amazing, but this is just as good, fucking…

Terrifying.

He doesn’t know if you feel anything close.

******

Three weeks later- five months along

The next few weeks fly by in a blur, no doctor appointments but Satoru frequently calls and messages. Once you heard a party in the background, and part of you feels this… sadness, you can’t just do that ever again. It’s fine, sure, but your life now is work, trying to make sure they still don’t ask you if you’re pregnant, despite your tummy growing, and tits swelling, and then…

Studying.

The more you do learn about being a parent, the harder it becomes to fathom it, the responsibility, shit at any moment a baby can just… not live anymore, and you have to be afraid of everything. Is the baby getting the right nutrition, will you have a normal labor, will the baby be healthy inside your tummy. So much information the stress eats at you.

You have no reason to really see Gojo, so when he pops up knocking on your door suddenly, you falter. You see him on your app, and use the buzzer to murmur ‘hang on a minute’ as you hurriedly rush and wash your hot cheeto dusted fingers, and brush your teeth. You peer at your dark circles- another pregnancy gift, surprise, you’re anemic!

Shit.

Why would he find you attractive, in your dumb little sweats that you’re almost not able to pull over your ass, that has just gotten bigger. Apparently girls do that, they make your ass and hips huge too. You frown as you turn in the mirror, tummy pooching out of the tee shirt that once covered it, and Satoru is still annoyingly ringing at your door bell, at ten pm.

“Hold on!” You stomp over to the front door, opening it then, and he’s still got stupid black shades on, grinning down at you, as he leans a hand on your doorway, you see his car right behind his body in your parking lot. “What’s up?”

“I needed to… see you, it's been weeks. I…” He trails off, eyes darting down your body, nipples that just want to poke out of your white tee shirt, then lower to your tummy, making him falter. “You’re showing more.”

“Yeah, I know.” Your dejected voice makes him frown. “Did you need something, or…”

“Just… I felt like… I should be here?” You blink a bit then, flushing in his presence, finally stepping aside.

“Come in, I’m sorry. I’m cranky.”

“You were before the parasyte-”

“Satoru!”

“Sorry, sorry.” He holds his hands up in defeat, and you relax just a bit.

“I’m feeling so achy, tired… I’m anemic I guess.”

Satoru frowns now. “That’s low iron, yeah?”

“Hot cheetos aren’t a good source of iron.” You’re smiling just a bit, and he’s chuckling, brushing back his white locks and easing off his shades now, blue eyes so pretty they wreck you, even as used to them as you are.

“Iron supplements then. Are you taking any?” You nod a bit, tugging at your shirt, and his hand comes to touch your tummy now, making your breath catch. “Bad girl, better take that iron.”

“You gonna punish me, hmm?” He’s leaning lower now, stepping further and further inside your quiet little home, hand firmly on your tummy as he backs you until you’re against the opposite wall.

“Think I won’t? Did you miss me sweetheart?” His voice is cocky, full of himself, but you hear it, the vulnerability, the raw need.

Your heart pounds as you nod just a bit, before you can stop yourself, shaking your head. “No way.”

“Did she miss me?” He’s got a thigh between yours, moaning as he feels your heat, hands on either side of your head, his own resting on yours as he bends over, earning your whine as he presses his thigh up.

“You missed me? Or her?” Your breathy words are right against his lips, and he dies to tell you, how badly he’s wanted to come over, how badly he needs you, all of you.

But he gulps instead, lifting that strong muscled thigh higher, watching your pretty face falter, breasts that have gotten so much fuller rising with your breaths enticing him, making him lower a hand. He brushes the sides of them with his fingertips, watching your nipples perk out more in response, cock throbbing with need now.

“Maybe I missed you both.” His hushed declaration ends you, your hands slipping up his polo now, gripping the material tightly and yanking him lower, while you arch your hips.

“Am I still sexy, Satoru?” Your whisper ends him, he moans now, hands finding purchase on your hips.

“So sexy I can’t think of anything but fucking your sweet little cunt, hmm?” You’re tearing his clothes damn near off him, releasing every bit of anything you’ve been holding back, as you both stumble back to your room. ‘Missed you, fuck’

You think you heard that, but it’s hard to hear when there’s ringing in your ears, when you’re struggling to catch your breath, with just how good Satoru fucking feels, the way he touches you, how he just lifts you like you’re nothing, even as you feel so weird in your own body. He just forces your brain to think of one thing- fucking him, kissing him, feeling him.

“God, you’re so fucking hot.” He whispers, on his knees as he slips off the rest of your clothes, falling in a whisper to your ankles, kissing a new little mark left by his baby, making him feral, groaning as he inhales you, but you’re yanking up on him.

“Satoru, please fuck me.” Satoru’s not going to turn you down, ever, he’s immediately hard, kissing you deeper and deeper, hand reaching down to grip swollen breasts, moaning.

“Which way, baby, hmm?” He’s whispering, you press him down then, right on your bed, and he tries to take your shirt off, making you pause. “Lemme see you, fuck, please…”

“I’m all jiggly ugh!” He’s shaking his head, lifting your top now, your tits bounce out, full of milk already, while his cock strains against his black boxers, his snowy lashes lowering and casting shadows against his high cheekbones.

“Fucking sexy, shit.” He’s running a hand over your tummy now, thumb brushing a new stretch mark, as you hungrily kiss him, grinding your slick cunt against him, soaking his denim. “Lemme touch you.”

You nod weakly, as he reaches down, rolling his thumb against your clit, which twitches and throbs in reaction, soaking him further. Your head falls back, it feels so fucking good, the two of you have barely seen each other with your work, and his running of his company, so much that it’s probably been a few weeks since you’ve cum at all.

“So eager, baby, huh?” His taunting should annoy you, but it doesn’t, you’re whining and nodding, as he taps your hip, urging you to kneel, and he slips his pretty cock out, smacking his belly button with precum. “God, so wet.”

“Need it, fuck, please.” You’re grinding your slick, eager cunt along his length, as Satoru moans out, urging you with your hips, fingers gripping the curve of them.

“Then take it baby.” You whine out, leaning forward, titties in his face, he sucks at a nipple, sore and sensitive, making you wetter, tummy clenching.

“Satoru!” You’re reaching down, gripping his thick length with a small little hand in comparison, looking down as you guide his tip against your entrance.

“C’mon, sweetheart, you can take him all, can’t you?” You shake your head, struggling to take just the tip of him, whining out, he chuckles then, flipping you over, kissing down your tummy, as your hands enwrap in his hair.

“Satoru…”

“Let me get her nice and ready, huh?” You’re flushed as he kisses even lower, spreading your thighs and groaning at the sight of your slick, glistening pussy, latching his mouth right around your clit, sucking it in as he holds your lips open, moaning as he eyes you.

Your breasts bounce, so full, his hand resting right on your rounded tummy, while you yank on his silky locks, gasping. “There, oh there, please don’t stop- m’so close, Toru please…”

“Mmm, that’s it, cum all over m’face, sweetheart.” He urges, and you shatter, thighs trapping his head in the best position he can even imagine, shaking on either side while your cunt drools out more and more. “That’s it…” He’s mumbling, yanking you closer on his face now.

Everything that’s been swirling through your mind shuts off completely, as your orgasm rocks through your body by his far, far too talented tongue, teeth, fingers, all of him working you so fucking well. ‘M-missed you’ may have slipped from your lips, earning his widened blue eyes.

“Missed me?” He repeats, pressing a kiss on your quivering little clit, slipping two fingers inside your heat as you nod then, tears making your eyes glimmer from just how good it feels. “Missed me making you cum?”

“And more, shh.” You shut him off as you stroke his cock, making him groan, he leans over you now, lifting a thigh and sinking inside you in one stroke. “Fuck, so big oh my god…”

That’s nice to hear.

He’s smirking as your eyes roll back, fucking into you, careful to keep his weight off your tummy, but suddenly as you’re rolling your hips up, he feels something. You’re clinging to him, he’s sucking on a puffy little nipple, moaning at how good you feel, trying to ignore what just occurred, what he just felt from you, when suddenly it happens again, and he pauses.

“Is that… is she kicking?” He whispers now, pulling back, your face is covered in a thin sheen of your sweat, as you lean your head up a bit, looking down and touching your lower tummy.

“Probably all the excitement. It’s fine.” You’re yanking him down for another kiss, and Satoru yanks back. “Satoru, please…”

“The first kick and I’m… oh my god.”

“You’re getting soft, ugh!”

“Sorry, but oh my god.” Satoru pulls back, huge cock even on soft, as he panics, hand slicking through his white locks, shaking it in shock. “What if she knows!?”

“Satoru, she doesn't know, stop it.” You’re up on your elbows, trying to catch your breath as you watch your… baby daddy?... panic.

“What if the first thing the baby knows is my dick!? Shit!” He’s hopped off the bed now, pacing completely naked, and you grimace, laying back, body on edge, pussy still fucking pulsing around nothing now.

“It doesn’t know that, there’s a cervix there!”

“I’m huge, what if-”

“Oh jesus, why did I think you’d want to?” You’re sniffling now, standing and rushing over to your dresser, starting to snatch up clothes, and Satoru immediately stops you.

“No, no I want you, I swear.” You turn and he sees your tears, cursing. “I do, you’re gorgeous like this.”

“I am not, you were just being nice. I’m all jiggly ugh! And you don’t even… I shouldn’t have suggested that.” You’re a mess as you dress up, Satoru’s pulling you against his chest, leaning down as you shake your head, tears streaming down your cheeks. “It’s okay if you don’t anymore, I’m sure you can have anyone.”

“What now?” He glares down at you, cupping your face, feeling you tremble in his hold. “That’s bullshit. This is not about you it’s… I’m scared I’ll hurt the baby.”

“Sex is fine, even close to delivery, I’m not so far we can’t go at it.” You eye him now, shaking your head. “Pregnant sex can be weird I’m sure, I shouldn’t have… pounced on you, shit.”

“Stop it. Now.” He grabs your chin, pressing a kiss on your lips, feeling how tense you are as his other hand slips up your back. “I want you. I just got… scared. It’s not how I wanted to know she kicks now.”

You sigh now, nodding and kissing him again, letting him hold you so tightly, fuck it feels good, just being in his arms. So good it’s scaring you. “You’re a good person.”

“What now? You bonk your head again?”

“You are. You’re sweet and caring, and you’re sparing my feelings.”

“Oh fuck this.” He glares, turning you around now, until you’re facing your dresser mirror, looming so tall over you as he arches your back, slipping your shorts right back off. “Look at you.”

“A mess…” He sighs, yanking your top off, a hand gripping a tit, squishing it in his big palm as he presses his cock back against your entrance, watching as your eyes dilate in the reflection, your teeth catching your bottom lip.

“Beautiful mess. Sexy, these tits, this ass? This body… those eyes…” He presses his cock inside you, lifting your thigh up as he bends down, resting your thigh up on your dresser, holding you like you’re nothing. “This perfect, tight little cunt around me.”

“S’good, you’re- ah!” He’s slammed his cock deep then, your hand comes to rest on the cool glass of the mirror, leaving a palm print as he shoves his cock so deep, throbbing in your slick walls, which gush down his length.

“You’re gorgeous, talk shit again and I’ll punish you, hmm?” You nod eagerly, as he laughs against your neck, fingers twisting your nipples. “This is what you wanted, should have asked me over. Needed to cum all over my cock, sweetheart?”

“Y-yes, please, please- mnh!” You’re done as he fucks into you, a little rougher but still cautious, holding onto you, your head falls back against his chest, his reflection revealing eyes nearly black with desire, his huge hands overtaking you by every inch of your skin, his teeth sinking into your neck when he hits deep, making you gasp.

“That’s it, cum f’me baby…” His words end you again, when don’t they, but something is so intimate when he tilts your chin down. “Watch how pretty you still are, you’re prettier, okay?”

You tear up as you nod, and one thing hits as deep as his long, curved cock against your cervix-

Your feelings.

You’re in love with him.

Fuck.

You’re convulsing when he presses in once more, having you watch until you can’t even see anymore, until your eyes roll back and you’re blinded, drool falling right out of your mouth as your walls flutter around him. Satoru groans, you’re so sensitive you can’t stop cumming, when he fills you so good, cum coating every bit of your slick hole now.

He’s whimpering in your ear, clinging to you, and one thought reigns through his ringing ears, as he feels you twitching and shaking in his embrace, as he feels your muscles pushing his cum all down his length, mixing with your slick arousal. One thought infiltrates his mind as he watches your beautiful face, as he hears your whines, as he sees your eyes open back up.

He’s in love with you.

Fuck.

Has he always been?

He eases you down now, gently, eyeing the condensation left from your breath against that now messy mirror, both of your hand prints against it, his so big, yours so small in comparison. He places your feet on the floor after pulling his thick cock out of your tightening cunt, still staring at you in the mirror now, gulping down the heavy emotions of the moment.

He knew it wasn’t just sex, he knew something deeper was there, but the way your eyes meet him, the way you’re clinging to him, the way his hand brushes your tummy, pressing just a bit, it’s so intimate it takes his breath. The madness, the passion, it’s just pieces of it, the connection, then and there, without words, overwhelms his senses so badly he can’t imagine not having this.

“Thank you for it, all of it. Thank you for-”

“Shh.” He turns your chin, lowering his head, taking over your every sense, when you taste yourself on his plump lips, pressing kisses against yours. “Don’t thank me for showing you the truth.”

“Satoru…” You turn now, pulling him down, kissing him over and over, as he pulls you gently against him, picking you up in his arms, lifting you until you’re sitting on your dresser, exhaling and running his hands down you. “You make me feel so pretty.”

“You should. One thing you’ve always been is pretty, even when you’re mean, or… psychotic.” You’re laughing now, as he continues to swipe your tears. “I’d never be here if I didn’t want to be.”

“I know that. I got in my head?”

“So did I, shit.” You both laugh softly, and Satoru’s alarm goes off, he grimaces as he looks at it. “I have work in the morning or I’d stay.”

“Oh, it’s okay. You can go if you need.” He frowns now, shaking his head just a bit, brushing your hair back off your neck, as the ceiling fan works overtime to make either of your overheated bodies cool.

“Come stay with me for a couple days, help me set up a nursery? You can spend all my black card you want.” You giggle now, nodding, earning his relieved little smile, you’re so stressed, he can feel it in your energy, he can see it on your pretty, exhausted face.

“I’d love to. I’m so excited.” Soon you’re both by the front door, and Satoru’s kissing your head, holding you against him tightly.

“We are naming her Satoruette, right?”

“No way.”

“Maybe you are still mean.” He pouts, earning more of your laughter, tilting your chin up as the cool breeze from the dark, starry night pours in.

“Kiyotaka better get good money for all this.”

“He’s richer than me, psh.” You roll your eyes, falling back into his hug.

“I’m… excited to spend time with you.” Your whisper touches him then, as he holds you close, falling deeper every moment, feeling a little kick against him.

“All you need is dick hmm?”

“Oh god!”

He’s grinning, so fucking handsome then, with the moonlight enhancing that tall silhouette of his, your heart races. You almost say you love him, fuck it feels horrible not saying it, but what does that make the two of you? So far you’re practicing being friends, co parents, sleeping together, but tonight, when he whispered how pretty you were?

When he held you?

When he reassured you?

Fuck you can barely hold the words back.

“Get some sleep, go eat your hot cheetos.”

“Oh!” You shove at him playfully as he grins, leaving you alone, back resting against the cool wood of your door, mind whirling.

After a nice hot shower, you get your text, and you’d be lying if you said you didn’t look forward to them, to them all. Even his pervy, ridiculous and goofy texts- like this one.

 Fratboy Gojo🙄 Tell Satoruette good night from her Papa <3 

You giggle, shaking your head, sipping on some water as you set the smut book you’ve been reading on your tablet down.

Sorority Brat 💦😻 Satoruette will never be her name, but I will tell her good night for you.

Satoru smiles down at his phone, he can still taste you, he can still inhale your scent all over him, see your pretty face in his head. He turns on his side, dying to hold you in his arms once more, only once he ever had really, but he longs to have you, to have you all the time.

Fratboy Gojo🙄 Daddy says good night to you too.

Sorority Brat 💦😻 I’m never calling you daddy!

Fratboy Gojo🙄 You will one day ;) 

Sorority Brat 💦😻 Lol, good night Satoru, see you soon.

Fratboy Gojo🙄 Good night, sweets.

The two of you fall asleep, love deep in your hearts and building with each breath, him holding a body pillow, picturing you, as you touch your tummy lovingly, feeling a little kick, smiling now. “Dad said good night, sweet girl.”

They're in lovvvvvee- I snorted at several scenes here, I have way too much fun with him. I said four parts so expect either a VERY long next part for the last, or two more (it's me lol) hope you enjoyyy

taglist #1- @jannythewriter-pt2 @gojosoups @lycoris-radiata-4-sale @cutiepi-iee @closerbutnevertogether @myahfig4 @coq1myun @rinny27 @abibliolife @coq1myun @megumisthirdog @p4lli @turtlebangtan @webshooterrr9 @aldebrana @msqudo18 @s0ulsnatchaaa @ovela @midnaamethyste @nearlyfuckingwitches @shibataimu @msniks @missthatgirl @fantasy1nightmare0 @maddyhehehehhe @yourst3pm0mmy @haithamsbb @rentheannihilator @ilovebeansyay @lemonswirlz @dilfkentolover @evelynxxo @bkgnotsuma @suki91 @burntasian @nakiich @hyunjinsruinedpainting @miniv1x3n @minascasket @ihrtmack @contaminatedcupcake @girlwithn0j0b @tokyi999 @queenofthekill @verriees @vullzo @jkslaugh97 @howmanytimesamigoingtotrythis @nkpajares @emonaculate

[fanfictionismyaddiction]

WAG Bootcamp: Part 2

Part 1

Word count: 593

Pairing: Lando Norris x reader

Summary: On her first-ever race day, Y/n experiences the chaos, stress, and excitement of Formula 1 as the WAGs teach her how to survive the emotional rollercoaster.

________________________________________________________

Y/n thought she had survived the worst of the initiation. She had learned the pre-race rituals, mastered (or at least attempted) the mysterious “paddock girlfriend face,” and even accepted that she now had to irrationally hate any driver who so much as looked at Lando the wrong way.

But nothing could have prepared her for race day.

The paddock was buzzing with energy—fans screaming, engines roaring, and mechanics in a frenzy. Y/n had barely taken a sip of her coffee when Kika grabbed her arm.

“Alright, rookie. Time for the next lesson.”

“What now?” Y/n asked warily.

“How to survive a Grand Prix,” Lily said, tossing her a pair of noise-canceling headphones. “Trust me, you’ll need these.”

Lesson Four: The Race-Day Survival Guide

Y/n followed the WAGs to the McLaren hospitality area, where they had their usual spots. The screens showed the cars lining up on the grid, and she could already feel her heart pounding.

“Step one,” Alex said, crossing her arms. “No matter what happens, you do not freak out on camera. If Lando crashes, you hold it together until you’re inside.”

“Wait—crashes?” Y/n swallowed. “We’re talking about, like, little crashes, right?”

Silence.

“Right?”

Susie patted her shoulder. “You’ll be fine, dear.”

Not comforting.

“Step two,” Rebecca added, “learn the art of selective hearing. The commentators will say stupid things, the fans will tweet even dumber things, and some guy named David Croft will mispronounce names. Ignore it.”

“Step three,” Carmen leaned in, lowering her voice. “If Lando is leading, do not say out loud that he’s going to win. You will jinx it.”

Y/n blinked. “You guys actually believe in jinxes?”

Kelly, who had remained quiet until now, turned to her with a dead-serious expression. “Max retired from Monaco 2021 because I said, ‘This is going well.’”

Y/n gasped. “Oh my God.”

“We don’t talk about it,” Kika muttered.

The lights went out, and the race began.

Lesson Five: How to Emotionally Handle a Race (Spoiler: You Don’t)

It started fine. Lando had a clean start, holding position. Y/n sat on the edge of her seat, gripping her hands together, trying not to scream every time someone got too close to him.

Then, lap 12 happened.

A driver—who Y/n immediately decided to despise for eternity—dove down the inside, nearly taking Lando out.

Y/n shot to her feet. “WHAT THE—”

Lily yanked her back down. “Cameras!” she hissed.

“That was reckless!” Y/n whisper-yelled, furious.

“Congratulations,” Alex smirked. “You just experienced your first ‘what the hell was that’ moment. There will be many more.”

For the next thirty laps, Y/n experienced every emotion possible. Joy when Lando made an overtake. Panic when the pit stop took too long. Rage when another driver squeezed him off track. She nearly passed out when he was fighting for a podium.

And then—P2.

“He did it!” Y/n gasped as Lando crossed the line.

The WAGs cheered, clapping and hugging.

Y/n exhaled, feeling like she had just run a marathon. “I don’t know if I can do this every weekend.”

“You will,” Kelly said, sipping her drink. “Welcome to the rest of your life.”

Lesson Six: The Post-Race Debrief

After a chaotic cooldown period, Y/n finally found Lando, still in his race suit, hair messy from his helmet, grinning as he pulled her into a hug.

“How was your first race?” he asked, slightly breathless.

Y/n looked at him, remembering everything—the stress, the screaming, the insane group of women who had taken her in.

She smiled.

“Terrifying. But I think I love it.”

[effervescentwolf]

nothing impossible <- ao3 link

“Hey, Buck!” Eddie practices in the car as he enters LA. “Christopher’s finishing his school year so I’m—”

He gets stuck in standstill traffic. He’s gotten used to it, used to any obstacle really, driving around in Texas, kind of expects it. Before, he’d complain to Buck about every little inconvenience on the road until Buck wrestled the keys from his grip.

“If you wanted me to drive, you could’ve just asked,” Buck would say, fondness all over his face, and Eddie’s whole body would go warm.

There’s a crash up ahead so he sits there, windows down, breathes in the smell of this place. El Paso and LA smell similar in a lot of ways, but there’s a difference he can’t quite put his finger on. There’s also an ease to the way he sits here rather than there, a rigid line of tension that he can’t find anymore when he searches for it.

There’s a difference between traffic there, where it would build up inside him, where everything was building and building, and traffic here where he’s a puppet cut loose, where he can simply sit and breathe and think.

He thinks of Buck when the traffic starts moving again.

“Buck?” he imagines calling, if he used the spare key safe in his pocket, trying to figure out where Buck would be in the house when he gets there. He glances at the time, nearing 4 PM. Buck isn’t on a shift today, he reasons. He probably went to the gym in the morning, got groceries sometime after. He didn’t have anywhere to be for lunch today, and there was nothing special in his calendar. “I’m home,” Eddie says softly, trying to imagine saying it in about thirty minutes, which is how long it’ll take him to get home if his estimate is accurate.

“Missed me?” could be on the table when Buck opens the door, and Eddie will grin wide and hold his arms open for a hug he kind of desperately wants.

Or, “Is there enough for two?” because dinner might be on the stove, or in the oven, and Eddie will be able to smell it from outside the house. Buck will turn, wearing that blue apron of his, and his eyes will widen, mouth in a perfect o, and Eddie will laugh, then.

“He’s coming home,” Eddie might say first because he knows that’s on their mind. That would happen after a silent hug, after Buck takes one look at him and maybe cries as he pulls Eddie in. If Buck cries, Eddie will too, and he gets a little emotional just thinking about it, them crying together on the doorstep, holding each other, and then laughing together at how ridiculous it is.

The minutes whittle down to streets and it hits Eddie suddenly that he’s home. He’s not nervous to see Buck the way he was nervous to see his parents, wiping sweaty palms on his pants, smoothing down his hair in his rearview mirror, over and over.

No, here, he parks, walks easily up to his door, grinning already, and all the debate about what he’s going to do dissipates. He knocks on the door because Buck isn’t expecting him. He’s not sure how Buck believed Eddie’s fumble of a lie about going out today and not being able to call, but he did, though he texted him throughout the day anyway.

Eddie waits a minute. Taps his foot, turns with his arms folded and surveys the neighbor’s houses. Knocks again, and frowns this time when there’s no answer, and then he lets himself in.

It’s quiet inside. “Buck?” Eddie calls anyway, halfway through kicking off his shoes when he looks up and realizes it looks the same. Different, because it’s not his furniture, but things are where they were when he lived there. He’d suspected over FaceTime, but it feels like Buck’s been preserving a little of kernel of him, and all of a sudden it hits Eddie that he’s really home. That he belonged here, and belongs, that he’s about to see Buck, and he’s going to have his kid, and that he has it, everything he’d ever wanted.

He swallows down the lump in his throat, runs a hand over the couch as he passes, says quietly, “Can I crash here?” That’s what he’ll say first, a joke about the couch, or Buck taking over his house, when Buck gets home.

He makes his way to Christopher’s room, opens it a sliver, sees it’s empty, and then closes it, putting his forehead on the door. Buck kept him too in his own way. Kept both of them there while they were gone. He didn’t replace them.

He doesn’t bother knocking on what used to be his own bedroom door, just opens it and oh, there’s Buck.

He’s sprawled out on his back, one hand on his stomach, not even under the covers. He hasn’t shaved today, Eddie can tell, and he doesn’t really think when he comes forward and sits next to him. Over FaceTime, he couldn’t see as much as he can now. Couldn’t watch the way Buck’s chest rises and falls with every breath, the scratch on his knuckle he whined about yesterday. Eddie can see it now, a little white mark on Buck’s hand, and he thumbs over it absently, not sure why he has to touch it, only that he does.

There’s a breadth to Buck that a phone could never approximate. A realness. He’s right there, in his bed in Eddie’s room, all of him, down to his socked feet. Eddie feels oddly emotional over seeing his socks, and he’s not sure why, but he’s been feeling emotional at a bit of everything these days when it comes to coming home.

“I missed you,” Eddie says, and he’s glad those are the first words he says with intention in this house, even if Buck isn’t awake to hear them.

His hand is still resting over Buck’s. He doesn’t move for a long time, just watching Buck breathe, and breathing it all in, and then he goes off to shower.

Buck is still asleep when Eddie walks back in with wet hair, barefoot, wearing shorts and a t-shirt he scrounged from the closet. Droplets roll down the back of his neck to dampen the collar of the shirt, which feels good after the heat of outside. He’d forgotten how much he missed that particular brand of shampoo, and the way the light in his bathroom looked on him in the mirror. Even the squeaky faucet, the way the door stuck a little when Eddie pulled. It’s like discovering everything anew, and it’s also like he never left.

He rummages through the fridge, discovers leftovers, and piles up a plate that he takes back to the bedroom so he can sit next to Buck and eat, munching thoughtfully as he mentally rearranges the house.

“I was saving that,” Buck mumbles, voice rough with sleep, and Eddie nearly jumps out of his skin.

“Warn a guy, would you?” Eddie says, turning to look at him once he’s swallowed, heartbeat still a panicked pace in his chest, and then he thinks only, that’s not how it was supposed to go.

Buck yawns, blinking blearily at him, rubbing at his eyes. “Where’s—”

“Finishing the school year,” Eddie answers, easy, and then he doesn’t want to eat anymore. He just wants to look. He wants to look at Buck looking at him. “You can have the rest,” he offers, something squeezing at his chest.

Buck ignores it. “But he’s coming back?” he asks, earnest. Sincere. Eddie can't put into words how much it means that someone's right there with him.

Eddie nods, manages to put the plate on the bedside table, and then Buck is sitting up next to him and pulling him into a hug. “Oh, Eddie,” Buck says, and Eddie breathes him in and holds him tight, and he thinks, I did good. I did good.

“Proud of me?” he mumbles, like he can’t feel it in the way Buck is squeezing him.

“You smell good,” Buck says instead, and there’s a little thrill that runs up Eddie’s spine at that. “Have you been back for a while?”

“An hour, maybe,” Eddie answers, face tucked into Buck’s shoulder. “I showered.”

“Mm,” Buck says, nosing at his ear, and Eddie’s stomach swoops like nothing else.

"Buck," he complains, words soft around the edges. He doesn't mean it, and he's reminded that Buck knows him better than anyone because he doesn't move an inch, rubbing Eddie's back comfortingly, and that’s where it all catches up to him.

"Yeah?" Buck says, smile all over his voice. Eddie can hear the rumble of his chest from here, and that wasn't captured on FaceTime either, and he can hear Buck breathing right next to his ear. “I didn’t know what I was going to say to you,” he confesses into the safety of Buck's shoulder. “I was practicing in the car.”

Buck doesn't say anything for a moment. “Anything you said would’ve been good,” he offers, like it's obvious, voice warm all the way through, and there’s something different about Buck’s warmth than the sun on his skin in El Paso, something that cuts the last string keeping him there, that tames something within Eddie’s chest that has been begging to be let out.

Eddie sniffles, just a little. "Not anything," he protests weakly.

Buck's next breath is a little shaky, and it takes Eddie a moment to realize he's crying too. "Anything," he repeats, sure of it, and Eddie forgets standing on another doorstep, practicing what to say, fumbling over the words and feeling small under his own failures. Here, he has a million things to say, none of them impossible, but he only needs to reach up and squeeze the back of Buck's neck for Buck to say, everything like home, "Eddie."

[petrichoravery]

So professional. | s.r.

masterlist | navigation

summery: when the team finally has a break through in a case that seemed endless and you and Spencer are assigned to search an abandoned laboratory together, old feeling come to the surface.

word count: 7,3k (it got away from me, sorryyy)

what to expect: ex!spencer reid x fem!bau!reader, kinda like lovers to "enemies" to ??, a lot!! of banter, morgan calls r 'doll', 'princess' and 'sugar', criminal minds typical violence; torture, shooting, gunshot wound, parental/domestic abuse (abusive father/husband), hyporeflexia (the absence of reflexes), medical inaccuracies? I’m sure, English is not my first language.

a/n: aaaa this is so far out of my comfort zone!! I hope you’ll enjoy this while I’ll go into hiding🙈🙈

────── ⋆｡𖦹°‧

This case was endless until it wasn't. Until everything happened so quickly, all at once.

All of the victims had been burned to the point that the ME couldn't figure out the cause of death, until Eleven year old Amilie Porter was found on the side of the road by a passerby.

She had been cold and traumatised and wouldn't speak to anyone, so they brought her to the hospital, who alerted the police that then called you. The BAU.

Now, Spencer and JJ were crouching next to her hospital bed to seem less intimidating. Everything was going great, she wasn't speaking, but engaged in the conversation by nodding or shaking her head to their questions.

Until Amilie accidentally grabbed the mug of hot tea JJ handed her by the burning hot part, but instead of flinching she just held it there, as if it wasn't burning her fingers.

"Woah, hey hey hey!" Spencer took the cup from her before any more damage could be done. "Careful, that's still hot."

But his squeaked comment only made Amilie retreated into herself.

"Sorry, I'm—I'm sorry. I didn't mean to startle you. Did—" he frowned, he wasn't been sure how to ask her what he wanted to ask, given that she was eleven and still in shock.

"Did you not feel how hot that was?" He asked gently.

Amilie only nodded.

"Yes, you didn't feel how hot it was?"

She shook her head.

"So…you felt it, but didn't pull back?" He was trying his best not to come across as too impatient, keeping his voice low and soft.

He went on as she agreed to the question, "Let me ask you this, Amilie. Did—did the bad man do this?"

When Amilie nodded her head in answer to his question, Spencer glanced up at JJ, nodding as well. He could tell Amilie was exhausted and needed rest, his questions were probably not helping much.

He didn't blame her for being unresponsive, what happened to her must have been enough to traumatise a person with a fully developed brain. He could only calculate what damage it had done and will do to her life.

JJ's voice brought him back into the glaringly white hospital room. "Thank you, Amilie, you helped us very much. We're going to call the nice nurse back in, okay?"

She took Amilie's turning away from them as a yes and they made their way to the reception desk. After they were sure that the nurse was on her way, they walked back to the car.

"What did you see?" She asked him as they walked out of the hospital, onto the parking lot. Sirens were coming from every direction, so they had to speak a little louder.

"Wait—can you drive? I'll call the team." Spencer said, already pulling out his phone and dialling the first contact.

Which, unfortunately, was you.

"Reid? What did she say?" Your voice was usually distant, as if you were scared that letting any emotion into you voice would break the dam.

He pressed a hand over his ear to hear you better.

You see, when you and Spencer got together, you had to promise Hotch that you would stay professional when you would break up. A great prophecy for the rest of your relationship, right? Having to talk about your hypothetical breakup on the first official day of your relationship.

Both of you really tried to stay professional, but working with an ex was hard enough, working with an ex you haven't really talked it out with was harder.

"I think he might be torturing the victims until they loose their reflexes." He clamped the phone between his ear and shoulder as he unlocked the car door, holding it open for JJ, handing her the keys and getting into the passenger seat after she was securely in the car.

"Hyporeflexia? Do you—wait let me put you on speaker." There was shuffling on the other side of the phone. "You have Hotch and I. Do you know how he does it?"

"No. I have theories, but nothing concrete. There are a few ways to accomplish the absence of reflexes, drugs like K779 or Leuprorelin, for example. But I doubt he is using a drug, it would have shown up on the toxicology report and the chances of these drugs causing Hyporeflexia are too slim."

"What's your guess?" Hotch piped up.

"Well I think he might be damaging their nervous system. You see, motor neutrons send messages between the spinal cord and brain. Collectively they send messages to the rest of your body to control muscle movements. It's possible that the UnSub is damaging the sensory nerves, spinal cord or motor nerves to cause hyporeflexia." He rambled off the facts and you could practically see the wild gesturing of his hands.

"How is the girl?" You asked.

"She's quiet, but in good hands," he reassured you. "She'll be okay in no time."

"Are you on your way back?" Hotch asked, crossing his arms.

"Yes. We're driving to you now."

"Drive safely." You said, purely for performance purposes.

"I'm not driving." He replied dryly.

"That's why it was meant for JJ."

"She always drives safely." You tried not to roll your eyes as Spencer just hung up.

Being professional when the person you used to plan your future with was now your worst enemy was hard. And while you might spite him a lot, you were sad about it more than you were angry.

But anger always came easier to you than admitting to yourself and him that the break up really hurt you, that you want nothing more than to be friends if you couldn't have him as a partner. You wanted to hold him in your arms again, to fall asleep to his heartbeat every night.

You couldn't tell anyone that, of course, your pride would be in shambles.

So you took a deep breath and turned back to Hotch.

── ⋆｡𖦹°‧

When Spencer and JJ got back to Quantico the team reassembled for the briefing. Everyone shared their thoughts and theories and Spencer explained what had happened at the hospital.

"Um…I know that there is a poison called curare, it's won from various plants and causes paralysis by binding to the acetylcholine receptor of the junction where two nerve cells dock together and therefore prevents nerve impulses from activating skeletal muscles. Could it be something like that?" You asked into the room.

Spencer was quiet for a moment and you're unsure whether he was impressed by your knowledge or just thinking really hard about the possibilities. "Well, we obviously can't tell because the bodies are burnt. But it's unlikely that he is using curare, given that Amilie wasn't paralysed, but developed Hyporeflexia."

Never mind, he was just thinking of a polite way to say, you're so far from the point, stupid.

"Right. So what do you think?" You almost added oh almighty! but were able to stop yourself. Because you're professional.

"As I already said," he gave you a look, "he is probably damaging the nervous system."

"Right, sorry. I meant, how is he doing that?" You had been able to sound so unfazed until this moment.

"I don't know," he frowned at you, as if his answer was obvious (you would like to state that it was not), "or I would have shared it already."

The team was nice enough not to comment on your little dispute, but it's clear that it was getting on their nerves. Especially Hotch, who was looking more stoic than usual, Morgan was finding it more amusing than anything.

"I'll get Garcia to search for similar occurrences in the area." You said quickly, already hurrying out of the room and away from the pending lecture.

Spencer watched you scurry off with a sinking feeling in his gut.

He didn't know why he bitt like a wounded dog every time the two of you spoke. He would like to think that it was because he just genuinely didn't like you anymore, but he knew that wasn't true. Hating you would be easier than this.

On the other side of the office, you ripped open door of Penelope Garcia's office and slammed it closed behind you, leaning back against it with a heavy sigh.

Penelope startled upright, turning her swivel chair to look at you with wide eyes. "Well, hello. Are you alright?"

"No," you whined dramatically. "All of this is so incredibly fucking fucked."

"Oh, love," she patted the place next to her. "He, who shall not be named again?"

You nodded, slumping into the chair. "He's just so—I just feel so…ugh. All we do is spite each other. When will this get easier?"

She looks at you with so much pity, you can't stand it. "I'm not going to tell you that it will pass with time, because, well…" She gave you a look that said nothing less than because you're quite dramatic, over the rim of her glasses.

While you huffed in response, you couldn't quite find a good argument that spoke against her unspoken statement, so your mouth stayed closed. But you didn't refrain from sending her a glare.

"What?" She asked innocently, if anything about Penelope Garcia can ever be called innocent.

You gave her a look. "Constructive criticism? Didn't we just talk about that?"

"I didn't even say anything! It's not my fault that you interpreted something into my very lovely face."

You decided that this was totally fruitless, your fault for thinking that you had a friend in her. "Can you look into past histories of people with hyporeflexia? Anything you can find. People who have been diagnosed with it in the past…let's say fifteen years, suspicious reports of it, someone being especially interested in it, maybe a lot of it happening in one area. You know the drill."

"Yep, totally, ma chère. One sec." She turned her chair towards the computer screen and began working her magic.

After what feels like three seconds—thank God for Penelope's speed on the keyboard and swift fingers—she piped up, "Hyporeflexia is quite a rare official diagnosis, so I cross referenced it with torture or unnatural causes and I found," a few more mouse clicks. "…a Theodore Wilson, who has been in and out of the hospital for severe burns and bruises a lot when he was young."

Frowning, you lean over Penelope's shoulder to look at the screen. "And that's relevant because…?"

"That, my gorgeous girl," she booped your nose with her fluffy pen and you scrunched your nose. "Is because they look suspiciously similar to our victims and…" She paused for dramatic effect. "Theodore's father was a biochemist best known for his research on Hyporeflexia."

You frown deepened. "Is his father still alive?"

A few clicks later, Penelope replied, "Nope." She popped the p. "He died last month, but Theo's mother still lives in Virginia."

"If we consider Theodore a suspect, his father's passing could have been the stressor. Thank you, Pen. Could you—"

"The address is sent to your phone." She smiled up at you as you got up and walked towards the door. "But don't think our talk about you-know-who is over!" She sing-songs just before you could leave.

You rolled your eyes. The nicknames were getting excessive.

"I can't hear you!" You called back just before closing the door behind you.

You froze when you turned and saw the team gathered in the bullpen area. "Um," you glanced at Spencer for just a millisecond to see how much he has heard, but his face seemed impassive. Looking back at your unit chief, you continued, "Penelope found a lead."

Hotch nodded for you to continue and you made your way closer to the group. Recognition flickered across Spencer's face at the name Don Wilson, but he said nothing as you continued to explain what Penelope found.

"Penelope send the address of his mother to me already." You said as you finished.

"Do you think he might be the first victim or the UnSub?" Hotch asked.

"Possibly both. That's what I'd like to find out by talking to the mother." You replied, taking the last steps towards the team.

Hotch nodded. "Morgan, you accompany her."

Great, just what you needed. Relentless teasing from Derek Morgan, fun!

The devil grinned. "Let's do this, doll."

── ⋆｡𖦹°‧

You ignored Morgan the whole drive.

No, seriously, you didn't say a word to him besides giving him the directions. Of course that only stroked the fire.

When you finally did arrive at the house of Theodore's mother, you felt like you had just taught a class of first graders.

Morgan was in the middle of something like, "��come on, we're all waiting to hear what happened between you and pretty boy—" when you got out of the car and slammed the door shut. You couldn't stand to listen to even one more second of it.

But of course he just continued after exiting the car, too. "That bad, huh?"

If you didn't know any better, you might have thought there was some pity in that comment. "It's fine. And also really none of your business."

"You and Reid are kind of making it everyones business, princess."

Rolling your eyes at his statement, you sped up your steps along the gravel path. The faster you got to the door, the faster Morgan had to get into work mode and could finally stop behaving like an assho—

The door opened unexpectedly.

"Oh," an elderly woman—she must have been in her late sixties—startled back at the sight of the both of you. She had shoulder length red-brown hair that was frizzy and clearly not washed for at least two weeks. Her hands were fiddling with a button of her worn down brown cardigan.

Undoubtedly the woman you saw on the picture on Penelope's computer.

You quickly pulled out your badge, animating Morgan to do so as well. "Mrs. Wilson? We're with the FBI. My apologies if we startled you."

"The FBI?" She frowned, clutching her cardigan tightly around herself like an armour. "Why would the FBI come to my house?"

"Ma'am, we have reason to believe that your son might be involved in the case we are investigating right now." You said carefully, not knowing how much she could handle before having a heart attack.

"What? No, that—that's ridiculous! He—he…" she seemed to have forgotten what she was saying, now studying the ground for dirt.

Morgan and you glanced at each other. This was going to be difficult.

"Ma'am?" Morgan tried again. "Could we come in?"

She frowned up at him. "Yes, yes, of course. How rude of me." She made a sound that could have been a laugh as much as it could have been a sob.

"Make yourselves at home, dears. Oh, my apologies it's a little messy." She hurried across the room, gathering scraps of fabric and dirty dishes.

"Uh," you weren't sure how to say this politely, but you were in a rush and sour mood.

Luckily, Morgan saved you from having to come up with something polite. "Mrs. Wilson, we'd like to ask you some questions about your son, Theodore, if that is alright with you?"

"Oh, Theo," he fingertips touched her lips and her eyes welled up a little. It was a nostalgia only a mother could feel. "We—we don't talk a lot anymore, now that he is at university."

You frowned. There had been no evidence of Theodore being at university. "What is he studying?"

The woman seemed frozen in her thoughts. "Physics. No, that's not right…Chemistry, yes. He is studying chemistry at Princeton. He told me that."

You gave Morgan a signal to fact check that with Penelope and he left the room, leaving you to talk to Mrs. Wilson alone.

"Did he always like chemistry?"

"Yes, yes. When he was young, he always used to…no, I think that was biology." She laughed almost hysterically. "Can't keep up with that boy. So many talents."

Bingo. Biochemistry. His father's influence, no doubt. And it fit the theory of Theodore taking on his father's murderous tendencies. Just a little more and you had him.

"Was there any particular niche he was particularly interested in?"

"Yes, but…but I don't remember. You see, Don, my husband—Theo's father, he would know. He—he was the one who always went to the laboratory with Theo."

Laboratory? You froze at the mention of a possible secondary location. Double bingo, a place to hide the victims and possibly burn them. A place where his father could have taught him his ways, pass the torture down like some families might pass down jewellery.

"This lab," you asked cautiously, not wanting to come across too pushy or desperate (which you very much were). "You don't happen to know where it is?"

"Oh, it's abandoned now, run down, I'm certain. They stopped going there after Don got sick…" she couldn't finish the sentence, her eyes fogging up with grief.

You doubted that he just stopped going, but she didn't need to know that. "Is it possible that you find out where it is located?"

She nodded, mumbling something about a postcard before disappearing into another room.

Morgan came back from the hallway.

"There is no record of him at Princeton. No pay checks, nothing." He whispered to you.

That was to be expected. You just nodded.

All of this left you with a horrible, nauseating feeling in the pit of your stomach. This woman had lost everything—her husband, her son, her sanity—but the hope she clung to was that her son was in university, building a life of his own, making a name for himself.

Now you were working on destroying that hope. It might ruin her entirely. Irrevocably.

She came back a second later, a postcard in her hands. "That's the address, I think." She held it out to you.

But as you went to grab it, fingers closing around it, she didn't let go, keeping a tight grip on it. Like a lifeline. Like a part of her knew, that if she let you have it, there was no going back to the normal she once knew.

"Mrs. Wilson…?" You tested carefully.

She startled. "Oh! I'm sorry." She let the paper go. "Here you go. I hope it helps with your…"

Her face creased up, thinking hard of a reason why two FBI agents could be in her house, asking for her perfect son who was studying chemistry in Princeton.

Morgan, ever the escape artist, waved politely, "You have been very helpful, Ma'am. We best be going then, have a nice day."

"Yes, yes, of course. You must be busy kids." But just as you stepped through the door, feet just hitting the gravel, she called after you. "Agents?"

Both of you turned. "Yes?" You asked politely.

"My son, when you visit him at Princeton, could—could you tell him I was sorry?"

"Of course, Ma'am." You let your voice trail off, hoping she would clarify what she was apologising for.

Mrs. Wilson leaned against the door with one hand, as if stabilising herself. "We had a fight, you see. The night before he left for Princeton. I never got to apologise to him."

You were tempted to ask what the fight was about, but you held back. It might be important for the case, but not enough to dig up the rotten bones. "Of course. We will tell him, Mrs."

"Thank you—thank you. Tell him I love him, too, would you be so kind?"

You nodded. "Of course."

Morgan and you walked away, then. Leaving the woman behind.

You didn't recall reaching the car, didn't recall Morgan unlocking it and even holding open the door for you to climb in. Too deep in the past, too caught up in the future.

The conversation with the mother affected you more than you'd like to admit. A fight could ruin so many relationships, it could make you go crazy, make you say things that caused you to drift further and further apart. Until you didn't know each other at all anymore, but you still clung to the past yous that you once were.

You only came to yourself when you felt the seat under you, when the engine started to hum.

"We had a fight." You mumbled as Morgan reversed out of the parking space.

"What?" He looked over at you shortly, confused. He couldn't recall having fought with you.

"Spencer and I. We fought. That's why we broke up."

Morgan felt a little like laughing. "You broke up because of a fight? Must have been one hell of a fight, then. The both of you were always so inseparable."

When you didn't laugh or react, Morgan glanced over at you again. You looked sad, in thought. With a big pout-slash-frown on your face, fingers fiddling with the sleeves if your button up.

"Hello? Earth to earthling?" He waved a hand in front of your face.

"Sorry." You glanced up at him. "I don't know why I brought it up, I don't like talking about it."

Bless him, Morgan's face softened a little. He wasn't heartless enough to keep teasing you when you clearly had a hard time. Well, okay, he had his moments.

"You don't have to talk about it."

"No, it's okay. We—We fought a lot, leading up to the break up. Silly things like the dishes, different opinions on different things.…The real issue was this job, though." You swallowed around the urge to bolt.

"The job?"

You nodded. "We brought it home with us, made it the centre piece of our relationship."

Morgan winced. It was the mistake every agent was afraid to make when entering a relationship.

"Yeah," you breathed out. "I know. But you know us, we work, that's just who we are."

"Workaholics." Morgan coughed to lighten the mood.

In any other situation you would have dug your elbow into his side, scowled at him. But not in this one.

"It got too much in the end. The fear, the paranoia. We just…snapped. We talked it out, funnily enough that conversation was quite calm. Though we were naive enough to think we could stay friends." You sniffed.

It surprised him, to find out you were struggling so much in the past months leading up to your break up. "You always seemed so happy at work. Everyone agreed when I said you two were meant for each other."

"Yeah, well, things that are meant for each other aren't always the right thing."

"Do you really believe that? Or are you scared that it won't work out if you tried again and you opened yourself up for nothing?" He lifted one hand from the wheel to put air quotes around the word nothing.

You glared at his side profile. "Okay, Mr. Therapist."

"What?" He looked at you again, before focusing back on the road. "I'm just saying. Reid is so far gone for you, opening up to him would never be for nothing. If you want it to work you have to work for it."

"Since when are you an expert on relationships, Derek 'has a new girl every week' Morgan." You rolled your eyes. But you couldn't deny that his words stirred something inside you.

"Okay, you're just being mean now, sugar. I'm incredibly wise." He pretended to push glasses up his nose.

That got a laugh out of you. A real, stomach ache inducing laugh. Maybe you were hysterical now, too.

Morgan smiled at that. He was glad to hear that sound again, after months filled with frown lines and sharp tones.

After you calmed down, you got back into work mode, calling the team and telling them what you had discovered. You told Penelope to check the address and she confirmed that it was an abandoned laboratory.

Now everything happened quickly. Hotch ordered you to drive to the lab and wait for the team, to be on alert for anyone entering or leaving the building, but not to—under any circumstances—enter or separate from each other.

── ⋆｡𖦹°‧

Not even twenty minutes later, you and Morgan arrived at the laboratory and prepared by putting on your vests and checking your guns.

The other black SUVs lined up in front of the main entrance shortly after.

You caught Spencer's eyes as he got out of the car. He scanned you from head to toe for injuries. When he found none, the concern on his face melted away quickly enough for you to consider you had imagined it.

"No one has entered or left the front door in the time we were here." You said when the team reassembled.

Hotch nodded. "Morgan, you and Prentiss go in from behind and search the lower level. JJ, Rossi and I search the second floor."

"But that means—" Spencer started to protest but Hotch has already pointed at you.

"You and Reid, go to the upper level."

Because you were so focused on the case (totally not because you want to show Hotch you could be more professional than Spencer), you just nodded.

"Good. Let us not waste time we don't have." Hotch frowns and everyone goes their separate ways.

Spencer glanced at you and you glanced at him. This was the first time you had been alone together since the break up and you were both unsure what to do with each other.

"Is your vest secure?" Spencer asked after a short awkward pause. He took a step closer and you try your best not to flinch back. Professional, you remind yourself like a mantra.

"Yes." You retort steadily enough, but he was already reaching out to tug on the straps.

You frowned at the display of worry, but decided on letting him have his moment. Purely to save energy, of course.

"Fine, let's go up." He said as he was satisfied with your vest. Together you made your way up the stairwell onto the upper level.

As you sneaked through the eerily quiet lab, the only sound heard was the clacking of your heeled boots on the resin floor.

Spencer glared at you. "Couldn't have worn a worse shoe for this, could you?" He whispered.

"I could've hardly worn my crocks." You snapped back. "Focus."

Both of your guns were trained around the corners as you carefully assed the situation. So far there was nothing that seemed too out of the ordinary for an abandoned laboratory. Broken glass, dusty workstations, pipes…Nothing to accompany you and Spencer but silence.

Until a shot rang out. And you wince.

The bullet just barely grazed your upper arm but it was enough to make a crimson blotch bloom on your white button up.

Spencer pulled you behind a corner before you could get hurt even worse and presses his hand over your wound.

He wrapped a hand around your wrist to hold your arm still and assessed your arm. "Does it hurt badly?"

"It's fine. Focus on the UnSub." You scowled, pushing against his shoulders with your free hand. Spencer didn't budge. "Reid, I'm so serious—"

"No, I'm serious," he said your name sternly. "Answer my ques—"

Another shot rang out before he could finish repeating himself, but it thankfully didn't hit anyone.

You gave him a look that says see? I fucking told you so. and pushed him away to glance around the corner to fire some shots at the guy.

"The suspect is in the upper level." You said into the microphone. "He's wearing a black bomber. Brown hair. I can't tell much. He's armed and shooting." You listed off.

"Copy that." Answered JJ's voice back to you.

"Get," Spencer grumbled, "behind the wall."

"You almost sound worried." You grinned and taunted him by doing the direct opposite of his command, leaning further around the corner.

"That's because I am. It doesn't look great on my report if I just let you die." He bitt out, pulling you back by your wrist that he still hasn't let go of.

Unfortunately, he ended up slamming your back against the wall in the process.

You made a noise that could only be described as a grunt. "Oh, and manhandling does?"

Both of you were now pressed against the wall, with Spencer's arms caging you in so you couldn't make a run for it and do something even more reckless.

"I'll just put it down as keeping you from sabotaging the mission." He was panting, and for a moment the thought of just how attractive he was crossed your mind. Until you shook it off.

Just as you opened your mouth to taunt him some more, you ear piece crackles and Hotch's voice was heard saying yours and Spencer's names, "—what is your position?"

"We're still—fuck!" Another shot rang out before you could finish the sentence, hitting a pipe on the opposing wall and causing you to flinch. Steam hissed from the hole. Spencer shushed you and you were tempted to snap at him, but you lowered your voice instead. Staying quiet was in your best interest, to make the shooter believe you were hit and the danger passed.

"Still on the third floor. He's got us cornered." You continued quietly.

And because Spencer just couldn't leave it at that, he added into the mic, "She's hurt, we will need an ambulance when we're out of here."

Glaring, you retorted, "I'm fine, a bullet just grazed my arm."

"It's still important to get it checked out!" Spencer replied in a harsh whisper. He was really pushing your buttons now.

"We're on our way up. Try to get him into the stairwell." Is the only response you get from Hotch.

You breathe out. "Okay, let's try to get to the stairwell."

Spencer nods, gesturing for you to take the lead and finally stepped back to free you from the cage of his arms. (And the suffocating urge to kiss him.)

With your gun stretched out in front of of you, you carefully take step after step along the eerily quiet hallway.

"You go right," Spencer murmured, "I'll take the left."

"What? No—" But it was an impossible task, stopping Spencer Reid once he was set on doing something. He had already disappeared into another hallway.

"Does he learn nothing from his mistakes?" You mumbled to yourself, but do as he demanded nonetheless.

You placed one foot in front of the other with caution, rounding the corners not before listening into the silence.

Suddenly there was a noise. You didn't know if it was Spencer, your imagination or the UnSub, but all of your body was braced for battle.

Taking a deep breath, you rounded the corner. The hallway ended with a wall adorned with two doors. One lead to the stairwell, spiralling down into the second floor.

The other door was open. It looked like a lab to you, but you didn't have a good enough angle to see what was inside. The walls specked with dust and grime, mold forming in the crevices.

You caught movement in the room and walked slowly towards it. You had a half formed though to signal to Spencer through the mic, but before you could execute it, you had already entered the room.

A man stood with his back to you at one of the work stations. You took another step towards him, but your boot crushed a shard of glass under its heel. You froze.

Theodore spun around in panic, picking his gun up from the counter. "You—You should be—I shot you."

You breathed in deep to steady your voice. Theo's choice of words struck a match of hope in you. Maybe he didn't know that Spencer and the rest of the team were in the building, too. Maybe he just saw you.

"The bullet graced my arm." You confirmed, taking a step closer to him.

"Get back. Get back!" He screamed, forcing you to walk deeper into the room with his gun, so his back was to the door. "If you shoot, I'll go down pressing the trigger and you will go down, too."

His hand was shaking around the gun, he looked like he might drop it every moment. The room was dark, just a little sliver of light coming through the small window.

You watched it flicker and tried to come up with something to say, but your brain blanked on the profile.

Being a profiler had taught you a lot, but in this moment all you could focus on was that Spencer was somewhere in this building and you had no idea if he was safe.

"Theo, I know what your father did to you, how he would train you to take every hit without flinching, the burning." You said carefully.

"Don't—don't talk about my father like you know anything! Because you don't—you don't know anything!Lower you gun!" He spit out.

Just as you were trying to find a way to tell him that there was no way you would lower your gun, you saw Spencer through the doorframe behind Theo, gun pointed at him, too. You tried not to look at him as you continued.

"I won't shoot if you don't give me a reason to, Theo. I—I talked to your mother." You tried in a last desperate attempt to deescalate the situation.

That seemed to get his attention, he lowered his gun a little, before taking a step closer to you pointing it at you again. "Leave my mother out of this." He growled.

You continued anyway. "She told me that she was sorry, about your fight before you left. She is so, so proud of you, Theo. Told me to tell you that she loves you. Nothing could make her stay mad at you forever, she just wants you in her life again." You tried not to look at Spencer as you spoke the words to Theo that were really meant for him.

Tears formed in Theo's eyes. A sight that you had seen just forty minutes earlier, in his mother's. "Stop! It doesn't matter if she's proud. I lied to her! I lied."

"Of course it matters, if you put the weapon down and come back with us to the station, you could see her again. You could be her son again."

His laugh is hollow as he said, "Do you think I'm stupid? You're trying to get me to surrender. What do you called it? A talk down? Making false promises just to get me locked up. You never end up keeping them." His grip on the trigger tightened.

Another thing you learned as a profiler was not to get attached to victims or UnSubs. And while most of the team had failed at that, you had always considered yourself lucky—or heartless, for that matter.

But as you watched the pain on Theo's face, you understood. Maybe not everything he did, but you understood the cause. Understood that all of his life was set up for him to end here, in this lab, two guns pointed at him.

Behind him, Spencer nodded towards the stairs and you tried to signal to him that you didn't understand without exposing his location. He just gestured towards them again, frowning at you to just do as he said.

He took a few steps deeper into the room to clear the doorway, somehow managing not to get caught by Theo. It was a gamble he gladly took if it meant you were safe. "Theo, you don't have to do this."

Spencer's voice startled Theo and for a second you were terrified that he was going to shoot. But instead, he just turned around quickly, panicked pointing the gun at Spencer.

Your moment to run. Just to get help and come back to him. You sprinted out of the room, past Theo and Spencer. Theo shouted "No!" but it was too late, you were already half down the stairs.

You silently begged Spencer to hold on for a little longer. But just as you practically jumped of the last step in a hurry, you heard a gunshot.

Freezing on the bottom of the steps for the fraction of a second, you tried not to panic, but just as you turned to sprint back up the stairs, an arm wrapped around your middle, the other covering your mouth.

"Shh," came Rossi's voice from behind you. You struggled as he dragged you out of the building.

Fresh air hit your face as you were forced to exit, but all you could think about was the fact that Spencer's dead body might be lying on the third level of an abandoned laboratory.

You tried to pull back from him but he wouldn't let you. "No—Spencer. Spence is still—Spencer!" You struggled against his grip.

"You can't go back in there—" Rossi said your name. "The kid is smart, you know that. He—"

Before he could finish, there was another gunshot, this one closer. You almost sank to your knees as everyone around you prepared to take down the UnSub.

And were rebuild when Spencer emerged from the building a few seconds later, hands raised, "Don't shoot, he is injured, but breathing." He gestured behind him somewhere.

Rossi finally let you go when Spencer was far enough away from danger.

Not wasting a minute, you ran towards Spencer, almost crashing into him in the process.

Emily, JJ and an EMT passed you in a blur as they went into the laboratory to secure Theo. You barely registered them.

"What happened?" You didn't know whether to push him or to kiss him. You opted for the first, pushing against his shoulders. "Why would you tell me to leave? I—We had it handled. Together. I—I—You fucking scared me."

Spencer just pulled you to him by your good arm and wrapped you in a tight embrace. He didn't say anything for a while, just letting you process your feelings.

The fear of loosing Spencer for good, the pain of the break up, the conflicting feelings of having to work with your ex (that you're still very much in love with). You clung to him as your emotions overtake you. And, fuck, your arm hurt!

"Shh, it's okay. I'm okay. Here—" he pulled back with some difficulty, given that you had quite a firm grip on him, and took your hand in his, placing it on the side of his neck. "Can you feel that? I'm okay."

You nodded. "You're okay." You breathed out, looking from your hand on his pulse point, to his eyes. "Why would you do that?" Tears pricked at your eyes.

"I didn't think rationally. All I could think about was that there was a gun pointed at you and all my brain would come up with was stupid ideas to make him point it at me. Please forgive me."

He looked at you with his big, sad, brown puppy eyes, while his thumb brushed softly against the skin under your eye to catch your tears before they could fall.

You would have said something flirty like, you might have to make it up to me some more, if you weren't so terribly mad at him. "Maybe. I can't promise anything."

He smiled softly despite your answer. Maybe even because of it. It was a silly thought, you not forgiving him. "I can work with maybe."

An EMT whisked you away shortly after, but Spencer's hand stayed in yours until they slipped apart and his arm fell to his side.

He wasn't sure if he could just follow, he stayed away and watched you get checked out by the EMTs.

All of it—the story of you and him—reminded him of Cassandra witnessing the fall of Troy. It was stupid to compare two people who were so insignificant to history to two of histories most known tragedies, but it fit like he still did into the palm of your hand.

He had known that he would never be able to get over you. No one had believed him, telling him that time heals all wounds and that he couldn’t see the bigger picture yet, because he was still in it.

But he had known, and it still rang true. You were it for him and he would never find anyone that made him feel more like himself. It was foolish to think he could survive the break up, foolish to think he would get over it.

Hell, he had taken being on the receiving end of your spite over being your friend because it meant you'd look at him and feel something.

Taking all of his courage together, Spencer decided to approach you after the EMT finished patching you up.

"Hey," he said gently. This was the first time you talked without snarling at each other outside of work since the break up and it felt like finally breathing fresh air again after living purely off of carbon dioxide. "Doing good? How is your arm?"

You looked up at him from the steps on the back of the ambulance. You looked rough, exhausted. The sleeves of your shirt were rolled up to allow the EMT to bandage your wound.

It felt different now, talking to you. The moment of adrenaline had passed and he had no idea how to talk to you. The times of snarling seemed to be over, but the ones of kissing and I love you's were long gone, too.

"I'm okay. All patched up. I don't think I will ever take my reflexes for granted ever again." You tried to smile, but it didn't reach your eyes. "How are you?"

He wanted to deflect, to twist it back to you, but he humoured you. "Exhausted, but I'm good. I'm just glad you're safe."

What he actually wanted to say was: I love you, I'm glad you're speaking to me again. Let's never split up again. Please. And: I miss you, I don't know what to do with myself. I feel like everyone is running laps around me for the first time in my life.

Of course, he said none of it, this wasn't the time to dig that hole. Instead he just looked at you.

The blue of the sirens flickered on your face and even though you looked exhausted, he could't help but think you were the most beautiful thing Mother Earth has sculpted. The Grand Canyon was nothing in comparison to the frown lines on your face, the stars nothing compared to your freckles and birthmarks.

You looked back at him then, but thankfully didn't question the look on his face that without a doubt read, I love you.

Instead, you rested your head on his shoulder in a silent, I love you, too.

There was so much to talk about, so much to tell him, but when he insisted on taking you home, because he wouldn't let you drive home alone after the events of today, all you cared about was that he was there again. Fully. Without snapping, without pretend hate. Just the old you and the old him again.

You fell into your bed that night, the glaring blue light of your digital clock telling you that it was 3am. Earlier than a lot of other late nights at the BAU.

Spencer didn't hesitate to take off your work clothes, didn't ask where your pyjamas were, didn't stop to think what this all meant for you now. He didn't need to, all of this was an Obvious.

You didn't tell him to lay down next to you, to climb under the covers and flip the light off, to let you rest your head on his chest. He just did all of it. Because it was a routine, the known in all the unknown that was your relationship now. A Constant.

In the morning, you would talk about it. While he was changing your bandage with careful fingers. But right now, the sound of Spencer's heart beating your name lulled you to sleep.

In the end, fear and worry had been the best matchmakers.

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thank you so much for reading! please remember reblogging, commenting and liking if you enjoyed the fic. feedback is appreciated!! 𝜗𝜚

second a/n: I'm debating whether or not I should write a second part, but I'm not sure if there is any interest in that, so feel free to let me know:)

[registeredboykisser]

why are you automatically assuming that Vander was referring to Silco when he said "someTHING"?

Yes, he touched his scar and leather cover, but how do we know he's not referring to the monster of himself? The constant warfare between Zaunites causing death amongst common brothers? The monster within all of us when emotions get in the way? There's a WIDE VARIETY of things he could be referring to, but I really don't think Silco is one of them. The scar might not be a symbol of how Silco hurt him, it could very well be how he hurt Silco and Silco was forced to defend himself drastically.

If you look in the Arcane art book with some of Silco/Vander's background, you recognize that they based Silco off calling him this "dirty little thing", while Vander was the only individual who didn't see him as that. It wouldn't make sense for him to backtrack after the apology, after he held out hope that Silco would return, after he apologized to Silco IN PERSON.

Yes, he did seem to be a lot more upset at Silco during their fight in episode 3. That's not debatable. But it was also because now his KIDS, Felicia's KIDS, were in danger. He seemed all too willing to hash it out himself if it meant he didn't put his kids on the line.

even AFTER the fact, after silco KILLED HIM and after he KILLED HIMSELF to save Vi, after he was MEDICALLY EXPERIMENTED ON, he STILL held out hope that he and Silco could reconcile.

Seriously, where the hell do you think Jinx and Vi found the note?

He was literally a fucking monster and he STILL went out to find THEIR hideout in the mines, with their jackets, the glass that matches the one Silco has, the note, their place. He literally had no other reason to be in the mines, the girls just got to the hideout place before he did. FFS he didn't even know if Silco was alive after the fact.

I'm not saying your explanation is wrong, but it fails to acknowledge a LOT of details that could lead to a different answer. You took one sentence from the show and ran with it, insulting the writers for "negligence in storytelling" because you didn't consider the other ways storytelling could've gone is shameful.

God forbid a white boy tries to reconnect with bro after almost killing him /silly

Hey guys remember that terrible letter in s2? Well, how about I tell you that it's actually worse than it seems?

Alright. For the purpose of my point being more clear I'll recite it here. *barely held in gag*

"Silco. I've looked everywhere, but it's clear that you don't want to be found. Oh, God, I'm shit at this (THEN WHY ARE YOU EVEN WRITING IT YOU STUPID IDIOT. Sorry). I'm sorry. When she died, I lost my head. I told myself that what I did to you was for the greater good, that you deserved it. But the dirt was on both our hands. Anyway, you know where to find me. Blisters and Bedrock"

So, it is obvious that Vander regrets what he did to Silco and that he doesn't view him as a "villian of the story" anymore, so to speak. His murder attempt was purely emotional rather than motivated by ideological opposition or something else. Great.

Buuuut let's rewind to the very start of the series. Right to episode one. There. Take a look at these screenshots.

So Vander says to Benzo that there's someone on their side (the Undercity) who is worse than enforcers. Not even someONE, but someTHING. This implies quite a big level of resentment if you ask me. While he's saying that, he looks at his right hand and touches his uhh...I don't. Know how this thing's called I'm sorry. Let's call it a leather cover. There's clearly a reason why he wears it now, and this seems to be connected to the "thing" they're talking about. Alright. I guess we'll find out more about this later.

Fast forward to episode three. Heeeeey, what is THAT??

So Silco cut his hand?? Well, that all makes sense now then. Something brought Silco and Vander to a conflict, which resulted in Vander trying to kill Silco, and Silco cutting Vander's hand when he was escaping from him. For now (💀) we don't know what exactly caused such a rift between them, but it apparently was something pretty serious considering that Vander even stopped referring to Silco as a person. While he does later says to Silco that what he did to him was wrong, but nothing indicates that Vander changed his opinion on WHY he did it.

Now, there could be an argument that Silco did something that made Vander hate Silco AFTER the river scene, and this is why Vander thinks so badly of him. But earlier in the same episode we see THIS reaction from Vander when Silco appears.

So here's the question: why would Vander react like that to seeing Silco if he knew of something horrible he did post their fallout? What's more likely, he hasn't heard anything about Silco AT ALL, whether he's dead or alive or what he does. So Vander's opinion of Silco ("something worse than enforcers") formed prior to their falling out and it didn't change over time.

Now that we have all that information let's go back to our dear, favorite letter.

Uhhhh so. Vander is an incredibly awful person???? Either that, or he has an extremely severe case of amnesia. Because why would he go from wanting to reconcile with Silco and not blaming him for what happened straight into thinking that he's worse than enforcers and not even a person?? Or in his mind these things can coexist somehow?? And to add to all of that, apparently he never told Benzo the truth about their falling out, and made him think that Silco is an "animal". What, was Vander so butthurt by Silco never contacting him that he went full 5-year-old-mode "Humph!! I hate you now!!" and proceeded to lie to everyone about Silco?? So much for a reasonable and peaceful leader of the Lanes, huh.

But we all know that's not the case at all. The case is, of course, that writers forgot to rewatch season 1 and made up a reason for Vander and Silco to fight which is not at all aligns with what we knew about them and their relationship before. This is, ladies and gentlemen of the jury, one of the biggest cases of negligence in storytelling that I've ever seen.

[avaredava]

Ate out!

୨୧・・・・୨୧

Master list

⯌Sum

Megumi eating you out! (Aged up!)

⯌ Wc

0.7k

⯌ Warnings

Oral (fem!receiving), alcohol (reader is drunk), Megumi got SUPER mad at Yuji, some thigh grinding, clit stim

୨୧・・・・୨୧

One thing about Megumi Fushiguro is that he is one shy boy. Your poor boy is even too shy to hold your hand in public. One thing that fully changed his beliefs and personality for a split second.

You, his favourite girl, his love of his life, flirting with Yuji Itadori, his fucking best friend.

A bunch of Jujustu sorcerers came together after high school, since most of you still work at or for jujustu high and the society. A bunch you went to the bar. You're boyfriend Megumi, Nobara, and Yuji.

Soon enough you were drunk and it wasn't full on flirting but your hand on Yuji's chest was enough to set Megumi off. He grabbed Yuji by his collar and shook him.

"What the fuck are you try to attempt Itadori?! Do with my lady?" he slams him against the bar counter. "Man, I'm sorry!" He seems more scared than sorry. You're a bit scared yourself, he's more calm and collected seeing him like this is kinda scary.

Since your drunk and your an emotional girl anyway it just made it worse. The scariness in his eyes made some tears roll down your face. Your tight red dress that he bought that you're playing with, drunkenly like a child.

When Megumi heard a sniffle coming from your direction, his head snapped back dropping Yuji against the counter. He scurried over to you holding your cheeks.

"We weren't flirting, w-well I wasn't, maybe he was i-i'm sorry." You drunkenly ramble to him as some tears roll down your face. He hugs you close others watch and he gives a death glare and they look away quickly.

"I know you would never cheat me baby." He coos in your ear. "I was worried about Yuji, not you. You're my good girl..." He rubs your back kissing your forehead.

He brings you back to his apartment kissing your hair. "I'm sorry for scaring you baby." He says in his still face yet the emotion in his eyes showed sympathy.

He bounced you like a baby on his lap since you were so out of it and drunk but unfortunately that bouncing was making you grind pleasurably on his thigh causing you to whine out.

It took him a second to realize he was rubbing your clit with his thigh. But you to drunk to think straight so you sat there and whined tears pricking at your eyes.

He rubbed your cheek kissing your forehead. "Aw baby... it's okay, I got you." He cooed in your ear petting your hair. "Such a sweet girl."

He dipped his hand into your panties and and rubbed your clit while petting your hair, kissing your forehead.

The ache in your cunt was intense. Almost painful you needed him so bad. "I know it hurts, baby... I know."

He lays you in the bed kissing your head. He takes off your shirt letting your perky breasts free from your tight shirt. He slowly takes off your pants kissing down your body.

He throws your clothes to the floor leaving you in just your panties. He kisses the pubic area. He takes off the lacy panties not ripping because they are his favourite panties on you so he leaves you naked.

He gives your slit little kitten licks making your legs twitch. He rubbed your thighs because you were practically like an adult child right now. All he could think about was taking care of his sweet girl.

You sat there sprawled out drooling with tears. But he thought it was so hot, he couldn't get over how good you tasted. He did slow licks savouring your juices.

He slowly licked up to your clit with his eyes squeezed shut with his own sort of pleasure as he sucked on your clit.

It made you squirt so quick. Just the way he enjoyed himself and took his time just made it so pleasurable.

He lapped up your juices and went up your body and kissed your lips, you can taste yourself on him but your too tired and drunk to do anything.

As soon as he pulled the blankets up and held you, you fell asleep. His sweet girl.

୨୧・・・・୨୧

A/N: Gr I don't know how I feel about this 😭

[cosmicfandomvegan]

Gods, Obito and Kakashi were totally simping for each other weren't they?

These two were disgustingly down bad for each other in the most tragic, soul-crushing way possible. The secret infauation was legendary—just buried under layers of guilt, war, and emotional constipation.

Exhibit A: Obito’s Entire Existence:

- Gave Kakashi his literal eye (a Sharingan! An Uchiha’s "heart"!) as a ”congrats on your promotion” gift.

- Basically "died" screaming Kakashi’s name while getting crushed by a boulder ("Protect Rin… for me…" aka "I trust you with my heart’s last wish").

-Kept Kakashi alive at every opportunity (yes, even that time when he went on a killer rampage and had just witnessed Kakashi kill his literal crush).

- As an adult terrorist? BOY WAS STILL OBSESSED! Built a whole Kakashi’s Pain Simulator in the Kamui dimension. He recreated Kakashi’s suffering in his mind to "prove" Kakashi’s life was pain—because Obito was, in fact, obsessed.

-Obito stalked Kakashi for years (watching him mourn at the Memorial Stone.. Kinda wonder if he was comparing dicks at any point too, like Gai did in that one filler episode🍆).

-Then in a way, Kamui was like Obito’s "Kakashi Pain Cave" where he sulked for 15 years—peak infatuation!)

- "I’ll haunt you forever 🖤🤍" energy 😭

Exhibit B: Kakashi’s Eternal Guilt Kink:

- Wore Obito’s eye for 20 years, never removing it, never moving on. "This is my burden (and also my emotional support trauma eye that reminds me of how good a person Obito was as I strive to make him proud every day of my life).”

- Barely brought Rin up. I mean, she must've been closer to him than Obito, right? Lived longer, he actually got along with her... She was like his sister. But nah, his memories and thoughts are almost allllll Obito. (Bro loved both, but he loved Obito, catch my drift? He was dead-ass obsessed with a dead guy. If Obito was an Obita, way more people would ship and even say they were clearly in love.)

- When Obito finally revealed himself? Kakashi stabbed him ironically in the heart (metaphor?) and then had a mental breakdown in the middle of battle. Classic. T_T

-After Obito's "death", Kakashi didn't just adopt his ideals, he let Obito's ghost rewrite his entire personality. (He deeply admired Obito too. 🥹)

-Literally built a shrine to his memory (and visited it more than his dad’s grave).

Obito’s name wasn’t even officially on the classified mission names list, but Kakashi carved it in himself like a lovesick Victorian widow etching initials into a tree. Meanwhile, Sakumo’s grave? Pretty dusty. :/ 

Obito’s symbolic headstone he's like, "BB I VISIT YOU EVERY SINGLE DAY AND I QUOTE YOU CONTINUOUSLY 😭" aka YOU STILL MATTER. (how fucking romantic????)

And let’s not even get into how Kakashi retired to tend Obito’s grave post-war. Dude built a whole second shrine.

Peak uwu Moment:

Their final interaction in the war:

- Obito: "I’m giving you my Sharingan again. Here’s a double Mangekyō. Go be OP, my emotionally stunted king. 👑😩"

- Kakashi: "I’ll carry your will (and also your face in my soul) forever.”

- Poor Naruto watching and knowing full-well he's missed an entire gay saga of Kakashi's life: "Are they… flirting....?¿?? wtf maaan...-___-;"

Conclusion:

They were disaster soulmates—one died a martyr, the other lived as a widow, and their love language was mutual self-destruction. If that’s not obsessive infatuation, what is? They could def have been a toxic rom-com and I'd pay to watch it. 🍿😎 I mean, they were so in love. Kakashi could never let go, and neither could Obito.

(I know it's not canon but we don't talk about that.)

[softsunnyy]

Jack misunderstood your closeness to one of your friends after overhearing a conversation. This led him to make decisions that hurt both of you.

it was then that your friends decided to make a plan… one that can go very well or really bad.

🚨 angst, fluff, it was supposed to be enemies to lovers, but i got distracted and ended up writing a loser and jealous Jack. Trevor is a flirty mf. Luke is a bit of an enemy. Really poor ending. No use of yn 🚨

while writing this i came up with a super smutty alternate ending, so let me know if you want that one too.

when Jack woke up that morning, he knew from the start that the day would be chaotic, as the first thing he heard was his friends' voices from the living room, along with his brothers' voices and some music in the background. Still, he mentally prepared himself, showered, dressed, and went to see them.

what he didn't expect was the scene he found.

sure, he knew you were coming; Luke told him, and even warned him to behave. But this? Since when did you become so close to his friends? Cole doesn't seem to want to leave your side, like a child clinging to its mother. And you're laughing too loudly for his liking at whatever Trevor and Alex are telling you.

what's going on? this didn't used to be like this the last time he saw you.

Quinn stood beside him, smiling amusedly, and Jack hates the way Quinn seems to know something he doesn't.

"what?" he asks, defensively, to which his brother just nudges him.

“nothing, why that face? i thought Luke told you she was coming.” He asked, in a tone that only shows how entertained he is.

"yeah, well, i didn't know i'd have to see her so close to my friends all these days too," he said, a hint of annoyance in his voice.

and see, it's not that Jack was a piece of shit, or a terrible friend. In fact, you two used to get along pretty well. But his problem is still fairly recent, and he was hoping to have a couple of quiet, normal days, enjoying himself with his friends, and trying to stay as far away from you as possible.

and that must sound pretty dramatic, so for some context, when Luke started telling them about his new friend, they knew right away she´s a good girl, someone who would fit in with their environment. But Luke was clear about one thing, and that was that he didn't want to see Jack flirting with her, and much less breaking her heart.

"please" he said.

and he agreed not to look at you any other way, but when he first met you, he knew it would be a difficult task because you're beautiful, and that combined with how nice you are made everything much harder for him.

and can you blame the man?

when you two talked, it was like a connection. It was easy. And then you kept talking and talking, and Jack felt like he was in heaven every time you stopped talking to everyone else to look at him, to include him in a conversation or start a new one.

and the days passed, and it felt right.

it was almost ridiculous, the way his eyes always found you, and he couldn't stop looking at you, even if you were in the most crowded place.

and the first time he made you laugh? god, he knew he wanted to do it all the time because he loved the feeling of pure happiness that came from seeing you laugh so hard at something he said.

it wasn't even about asking you out, flirting, or getting you into his bed. He wanted to talk to you all the time. He wanted you to see him as a cool guy, to feel the same way.

but that all went down the drain when he accidentally overheard a conversation you were having with his brother. You were talking to him about a boy, and you spoke with such energy and emotion that a part of him wished you were talking about him.

and he got excited, he believed there was a possibility.

but the next day he saw you, talking too much to Ethan, barely even looking at him, as if he no longer existed to you. And he felt weird, of course, but he tried to ignore it.

the thing is… this kept happening. For days, your attention was on Ethan, and the conversations between the two of you started to disappear. He could only watch from afar.

a lot of doubts began to settle in his head, obviously. Doubts that kept him awake until late at night, creating insecurities that weren't usually there before.

god, why were you looking at him?

is it his hair? is he more fun? more attractive?

what do you expect him to do?

this began to create a feeling inside him that he didn't like.

the constant fatigue, the emptiness in his stomach, the anxiety that turned into anger.

you were supposed to be looking at him, Jack.

and he wanted to do something about it. He wanted to intervene, interrupt the conversations, talk to you more often. Remind you that he's still there. But a part of him remembers Luke's words, and the conversation he overheard you two having.

is it too late? you were talking about Ethan this whole time?

he felt like an idiot, like a loser, and that's something he's never been used to. He always fights for what he wants, to be the best, to achieve everything. But now he feels like he can't do anything anymore, that he arrived too late.

that made him feel bad, angry. Not with you, but with himself, for letting Luke's words get to his head and keep him from being himself and doing what he does best. And i don't mean playing with you, but at least making his intentions clear from the start, so you don't see someone else. So you see him.

and for the first time, he gave up, decided to distance himself. Because god, it was incredibly hard to look at you and not feel the need to hold your hand, kiss you, and do whatever he wanted for so long.

every time he looks at you there's that thought, that doubt, the "what if…?", and he can't stand it.

he needs you and can't have you.

so now he's being a jerk, or at least he knows that's what everyone thinks. Including you, probably. But he prefers it this way, because he'd rather keep you away than continue hurting himself, even if it means losing everything you two had built.

now, everyone's asked. Luke, Quinn, his friends, even his parents. And he knows you're dying to know, but he just lies, shrugs, and looks away. He tries to go back to the usual Jack, but without speaking to you, and it feels so impossible.

but he prefers that to telling the truth, to telling everyone about how he feels like a loser, about how his heart and pride have been hurt by someone who may never have looked at him any differently.

he just can't do it.

it was another of your laughs that brought him out of his head. He didn't even listen to what Quinn was saying, just giving you one last look before leaving, passing by his brother and heading into the kitchen. Maybe eating something would make him feel better, or make the emptiness in his stomach go away.

although he knows it doesn't work that way. But how can he have a good time if he's not around you?

and you, oh you, you saw him immediately when he appeared in the room, feeling nervous, intimidated, and even guilty. Cole's head resting on your shoulder and his friends telling you stories that made you laugh.

you saw his expression, and you knew it was because of you, because you were even more involved in his life than before, and you wanted to run, to hide, because you didn't want him to get mad at you anymore.

and you hate it, you hate how even though you should be angry at him, and hate him for how he's made you feel, your heart still races at the sight of him, and your eyes search for him everywhere he goes. Your feet itch, wanting to walk over to him. Your fingers ache from clenching them in your palms, holding back the urge to hug him.

and it hurts, because you remember everything, because doubts return to your mind, and hope hurts and turns into a constant emptiness in your chest.

you never understood why, why he walked away, why out of nowhere he seems to hate your existence. And you tried to talk to him a thousand times, but he always manages to escape, to ignore you.

god, he can't even look at you.

and it hurts even more because you're still so in love with him, and whatever you did had you crying for nights on end, curled up in your bed while you were on the phone with Luke, asking him why.

whatever you did almost made you distance yourself from your friends because you were so upset. Everyone told you that he was in love with you, and that you'd look beautiful together, only for Jack to do this??

you even cried the night before, and you called Luke, telling him you regretted going, that you couldn't do it.

he convinced you, talked to you for almost two hours about why you should go. But all that went down the drain the second you saw him.

still, Trevor noticed, so he started telling you another story, something about how Dylan fell that morning when they were almost on their way to pick you up. That made you laugh a little, which lightened the mood a bit again.

you're grateful to have them, even with all this, because even when you got angry, they've been there for you, worrying about every detail, apologizing on Jack's behalf, trying to make you feel better, and getting closer to you so you wouldn't feel alone.

what you didn't know, though, is that they had a lot of time to talk all these weeks, trying to come to conclusions about why all this is happening, and they sort of came up with something.

now, they wanted to make a plan, and that wasn't easy, because let's be honest, we're talking about your friends, who with eleven heads don't make one, and who are looking for some… extreme solutions.

they thought about locking you two in a room, cornering Jack and forcing him to confess, intervening in very invasive ways, until they thought about... what seemed like the ideal solution.

pushing Jack to the limit.

now, what do i mean by this? well, they spent a good amount of time thinking about their theory, on how Jack probably feels rejected, or locked into the idea that you don't reciprocate his feelings, so they decided to push him to his limit, to the point where he has to confess to be at peace.

they know it's not the best option, and that besides being immature, it's also dangerous, because they know how their friend gets. But it's either that or wait for years until Jack moves on and is just a grumpy old man, without his girl and angry at all of them.

so Trevor offered to be the main enemy, because he knows he can do it, although the others also gonna collaborate, like Cole, who hasn't left your side since you entered that house, or Quinn, who will be in charge of bothering Jack every time he notices his gaze on you.

still, they have to be careful, because the idea is that you don't get suspicious, because they know that you will feel upset and embarrassed, and all the effort to make you not sad will go down the drain.

and so they spend the next few days, looking for every opportunity to be a little more affectionate, more attentive, more touchy. And you don't think anything of it at first, not too much anyway, because you think they're just trying to take care of you, since they do that every time Jack's around. But as time goes on… it starts to feel strange, a little overwhelming. Especially Trevor, who's already flirty, but now he's flirting a lot more often.

and oh Jack, he knows you're there, and he tries not to look at you, but when he hears Trevor call you, he can't help but stare, and his jaw clenches when he hears him call you pretty, or when he uses the stupid lines he's heard him use with other girls in bars in the past. And he sees the way you look at him in confusion, like you don't understand why he's flirting with you, or why he's suddenly acting like this and that makes him mad.

but he's also confused, and it gets worse with each passing day.

weren't you with Ethan? why doesn't Ethan seem affected by the way they talk to you and touch you?

what's going on?

and even though he doesn't understand, he feels furious, jealous, because he would love to be the one who makes you laugh and blush, or the one who hugs you, the one who accompanies you everywhere.

but he can't do it, so he has to hold back his urges, becoming grumpier and grumpier with each passing second. And at first, you could tell by how incredibly competitive he became with basic games, even aggressive just to win, so you could see he's better. But now? Oh, he feels like he can't even move without walking up to one of his best friends and punching them in the face.

he wants to grab you by the waist and get out of there, or kiss you, or just show them that he'd be better for you, and this spiral of thoughts is driving him crazy.

he can't even see normal conversations as normal anymore. He's obsessive, and he feels like they're flirting with you all the time.

and you? you feel more and more overwhelmed, and you don't understand what's happening, and for some reason, everyone seems to be on edge, tense, searching for something. And it seems like any minute Trevor and Jack will jump at each other's throats, or start barking at each other about something you don't know.

and it's a particular day when everything explodes, when everything seems to reach its climax.

you'd been scrolling through tiktoks all day until you came across a trend. It was innocent, funny, and you wanted to see how your friends would react to it, so you decided to try it.

you looked around until you found your first victim, Trevor.

"hey, Trev", he looked at you, smiling immediately and walking up to you. At the same time, another pair of eyes began to observe.

"yeah?"

"would you lend me 20 bucks?" you asked, smiling and blinking, trying to look innocent, even though you wanted to laugh, knowing your friend would question you and you wouldn't be able to hold back.

"of course," he answered immediately, which surprised you a little. He was still smiling.

"and 50?"

“whatever you ask of me.” for a moment you saw him glance behind you, but you were more focused on trying to think about what he was saying, trying to figure out if he was serious.

“wait, really?”

“sure, anything for you,” he said, which made you smile, satisfied with the answer.

it was then that you heard the backyard door slam shut, making you jump. The smile on Trevor's face grew even wider, and you began to wonder.

"what was that?" you asked, this time with a serious expression on your face.

however, you didn't stop to hear his answer and decided to follow your instincts, walking to the door and going outside.

Jack was sitting outside, staring at his hands, which were shaking a little.

he heard you and saw you out of the corner of his eye, so he decided to get up, ready to go back inside and not be in the same place as you.

that hurt you, but you weren't going to let him leave, not again, so you stood in front of the door.

he stood in front of you, staring at the floor and sighing heavily.

"please…"

“Jack, do you have a problem with me?” you asked directly, accidentally interrupting him.

the question made his stomach hurt, and you couldn't deny it, you felt like throwing up.

“should i?” he replied, trying to sound defensive, though failing miserably.

“you don't talk to me anymore, and i don't even know what i did.” You said, in a tone that showed exasperation, discontent. You need answers, and it's time for him to give them to you.

he sensed it, so he looked up. The impact was on both of you, because now all he wants to do is kneel and beg for your forgiveness, his heart nearly bursting out of his chest and his hands shaking unstoppably.

he'd never felt so out of control over his body and emotions, but just looking at you was enough to shatter his world and the mask he'd created for his broken heart.

and you? you felt like you could cry again. You'd missed seeing him so close, his voice toward you. God, you'd barely heard his voice these past few days, and you missed him so much.

“you didn't do anything” his voice was so soft and low that you were grateful to be close enough to hear him.

"bullshit, there has to be something" you said, a little more desperate "There has to be a reason for you to hate me." He shook his head, shocked and almost offended.

“i don't hate you, i've never hated you.”

“so what is it, Jack?” you asked, desperate "please... just tell me"

"i thought we were going to have something, and when i heard you talking to Luke… i thought you were talking about me" you tried to remember, but he kept talking "but i was wrong, and then you and Ethan…" he laughed without grace, looking back at the floor "i felt like an idiot”

“wait, Ethan? what are you talking about?” you were more than confused at the mention of your friend.

“you two started getting too close, you weren't even talking to me and..." you finally understood what he meant, and you had to clarify it now, so you interrupted him.

"no, Jack, this is where i stop you. I never had anything with him. I did spend more time with him, but it's because he had to get home before everyone else, so i wanted to take advantage of the time i had with my friend" You sighed, frustrated to know that this is part of why "i never, ever noticed you were feeling this way, and i´m really sorry"

there were a couple of seconds of silence, where you gave him space to process the information and think of a response. However, during the silence, you needed to let go of what you'd been holding in for so long.

"you need to know… that i was talking to Luke about you," you confessed, to which he quickly looked at you, eyes wide, his heart about to explode. "I've liked you for a while now, but i couldn't get too close because you pushed me away."

and oh, he feels like an idiot.

he looks at you carefully, trying to see if you're being honest, and your eyes confirm it.

"i'm sorry, i'm really sorry. I´m so stupid." He ran a hand through his hair, tugging at it in frustration. You wanted to tell him so many things, confess so many things, but you didn't know where to start. And he feels horrible, and wants so much to go back in time and make things right.

all the things you imagined experiencing together. All the times he wanted to kiss you, or you wanted to kiss him, sit on his lap and enjoy being his.

and you couldn't stand it anymore. You needed to do something, and all you could come up with was a quick, needy response.

"i'm assuming you feel the same," you cleared your throat, suddenly feeling nervous. You were going to say something impulsive, but you need to do it, you need to ask him for what you've been wanting for so long "So why don't you kiss me? we can figure this out later."

and you didn't need to tell him twice because he immediately joined his mouth on yours in a desperate, intense kiss. His hands went to your waist, pulling you closer to his body, while your arms wrapped around his neck.

there's still things to talk about, including the scene your friends made these past few days. But now? right now, Jack just wants to kiss you until it hurts, until you beg for some distance.

because he can't believe you're his. And now that you are, he won't let you go, he won't. He gave up once, he won't do it again.

[kanalynn]

Senku x teen scientist! reader headcanons

characters: Senku Ishigami

author's note:

• English is NOT my first language;

• May contain OOC;

• Do not copy or steal my works !!

• I didn't try very hard when I wrote this - and I wrote it in a short time, so it's probably very bad

timeline: pre-petrification

• Senku first meets [Name] during his trip to Africa - to his own surprise, he is not the only teenager interested in science who can afford something like that. At first, this girl hardly attracted his attention - he only noted her talkative nature - but very soon he got to know her better.

• [Name] was a young prodigy scientist like himself, but she mainly specialized in biology, chemistry and medicine, so she went to Africa to study Ebola - and she was very enthusiastic when it came to science - it was obvious to the naked eye. Senku senses that she may be very similar to him - and their first conversation takes place.

• Senku was not wrong - of course, Senku was never wrong. The way [Name]'s eyes lit up when she told him about the virus she came here to study, the way she looked around with greedy interest, noticing everything that could be nearby, the way she told him incredible facts about the environment - all this showed that she truly lives science, just like Senku himself.

• He immediately gained respect for her - as she did for him - and that's how it all begins.

• From there, their friendship grows stronger. Senku truly appreciates [Name]'s scientific knowledge and amazing abilities, but at the same time, he quickly gets used to the cheerful, energetic, non-scientific side of her character.

• They often spend time together in the lab or on expeditions, doing all sorts of scientific things. At that time, Senku had to try on the role of not a scientist conducting an experiment, but his assistant for the first time - after all, he is not as good at medicine and pharmaceuticals as [Name].

• It was [Name] who taught him how to make antibiotics. Of course, they made them in a modern laboratory, not in the stone world, but the girl also explained quite clearly how to get all the materials in nature.

• They most often communicate with each other in English, but in their free time, Senku teaches [Name] Japanese, and she teaches him her native language (if English is not her native language, of course).

• Probably, the idea to try lion meat belonged to [Name]. By the way, she herself did not like it, but she ate it to the end (she and Senku made a bet, he did not think that she would really do it).

• One day, [Name] tells Senku that when she leaves Africa, she will continue to travel around the world and study it until she settles down somewhere to officially become a doctor. Senku, half-jokingly, invites her to his home country - but who knows, maybe she will really go to Japan?

• When the time comes to leave Africa, Senku is upset about the upcoming separation from [Name], but not so much - after all, they will still keep in touch and write to each other. The girl herself, unlike him, can't hold back her emotions and makes a farewell scene - Senku considered it unnecessary, but when she cried and crawled to hug him, he did not push her away.

• So, they parted.

• Some time later, when a new school year begins in Japan and Senku is in his first year of high school, he receives a new message from [Name] - she has finally come to Japan!

• The girl promised to meet Senku as soon as possible - but only when she has figured out the train system and got used to the new school - that's what they decided, but it turned out that the meeting was closer than they expected.

❛❛ Nice to meet you! My name is [Name] [Last Name], I'm an exchange student from [country], and I'll be studying with you- ❞

❛❛ [Name]?! ❞

❛❛ S-senku?! ❞

• Senku definitely didn't expect [Name] to suddenly become his classmate, and from her reaction, he could tell that she didn't expect it either. The chances of such a coincidence were incredibly small, but not impossible.

• Despite this, he was glad, really. Even in his wildest dreams, he couldn't have imagined that he would end up going to school with [Name] and seeing her every day. It had been a long time since their expedition to Africa, and he had already missed her, her cheerful nature, and the scientific discussions they had with her.

• There was another thing: Taiju and Yuzuriha hadn't met her yet - as soon as Senku remembered this, he almost immediately introduced her to his friends as a fellow scientist. Since they were all very open and kind people, they got along very quickly: he and Yuzuriha even became best friends.

• [Name] is just as smart and interested in science as Senku, so it's no surprise that she becomes one of the best students in the school. There is some rivalry between her and Senku, but it's apparently not that serious - they just want to see who's smarter in areas unrelated to science.

• Eventually, Senku invites [Name] to join his Science Club as vice-president, to which she, of course, agrees. The club members treat her with respect, looking up to her and Senku - after all, two teenage prodigies who have been on expeditions before can't help but be impressive.

• [Name] is very, very interested in the culture of Senku's home country, and so often asks him to show her around or take her to festivals. Senku doesn't understand her enthusiasm and often grumbles when the conversation turns to a certain place [Name] wants to go, but he always accompanies her anyway.

• They apparently even went to Senku's favorite ramen restaurant together once, which he often went to with his father. Senku has been known there for a long time, so you can imagine the uproar that ensued when he showed up there with a girl. Of course, everyone assumed they were on a date - but [Name] didn't bother to correct them.

• When the swallows turn into stone, [Name] is just as excited as Senku. At one point, she even contacts her biologist friends at NASA to report the find. After that, she and Senku begin a series of experiments to determine whether the swallows are alive or not - and that's when the petrification happens.

• The green light that enveloped the entire land was clearly not what anyone expected. Before she turned to stone, [Name] only managed to whisper something to Senku, eyes wide in shock. Now she is trapped in her own mind for many centuries, desperately trying not to pass out, thinking about her family, friends, and Senku.

[schemmentisimpasours]

Chapter Four: Choosing Captain Robinson

Again the best gifs are from @babytakeittothehead

Summary: Melissa is finally ready to make her move to get Y/N back. Also I made Captain Robinson a pretty understanding dude. Mel deserves support for her bi-ness. We are about two chapters from the end babies <3

Previous Chapter- Next Chapter

Masterlist

-

Melissa had spent the remainder of the school year and summer messaging you while also burying into herself. She was loud and angry often finding the nearest rage room to find an outlet for all the emotions she had. As the glass shattered around her she would feel some semblance of calm. As wood shattered underneath the force of her hammer swing it was like the grip around her heart was loosening. Finally there could be a physical representation to the hurt she felt on the inside. But none of it helped in any meaningful manner.

Until she sat down in a light blue room across from Dr. Parks, a therapist that came highly recommended by Jacob. He had slid the card to her timidly before everyone came in for lunch. 

“She helped me a lot when I was figuring out my sexuality and how to navigate some pretty tough stuff. I don't see her anymore but I think she could really help.”

Melissa grunted but that night as she looked at her 15th text that went unread by you she decided to call Dr. Parks. In the first appointment she had fled halfway through. The second one not going much better when she threatened physical violence. And the third one was spent in unstoppable tears. However slowly Dr. Parks got Melissa to open up. About her childhood. How she thought she had to be straight. How much she cared for you. How much she cried when you had left. How much she wanted to make it up to you.

Dr. Parks listened every step of the way never once pushing Melissa allowing her to open up and work through it on her own. Until it came to Ava’s birthday party at the end of the summer. Where Barbara had “accidentally” slipped up and told Melissa you would be attending.

“You have to tell her your feelings Melissa,” Dr. Parks said simply.

“No, I can’t. I am not ready,” The redhead fought back, “Plus I'm still with Captain Robinson.”

“And when is the last time you slept with him?” 

“You nosy you know that?” Melissa snipped.

“Only cause you refuse to answer the questions in the first place,” Dr. Parks snapped back which is way Melissa had finally taken to her therapist. They could go at it all session.

“Not since the week after Y/N left… when I was trying to get over her.”

“How did that work?”

“Clearly not well if I'm here,” Melissa sighed.

“And what have we figured out since then?”

“That I'm bisexual and have been my whole life,” Melissa mumbled twirling her fingers together, “And that I only got together with Captain Robinson because I was too scared to love a woman. But instead I lost the love of my life.”

“And now you have a second chance to at least explain to Y/N what happened. You gonna take the chance or let her slip away again? Are you going to allow yourself to be loved?”

“Take the second chance,” Melissa grumbled as the anxiety began to rise inside of her.

“Fucking finally we have a breakthrough,” Dr. Parks cheered.

Melissa smiled up at her therapist, “I hate you.”

“I love you too Melissa,” She said back, “Now let's talk about how you are going to get through this talk.”

-

Melissa had arrived with Captain Robinson too confused to explain her real feelings to him when her mind was so crowded with what she was going to tell you when she saw you. It only took a couple of moments to find you in the crowd. You had a dark purple bikini top on, showing off the new muscles that you had gained from hours at the gym. Your hair was pulled up into a ponytail, wet curls falling down your back. High-waisted black shorts hugged every curve of your body. You had a Dr. Pepper in your hand, laughter spilling from you at something Ava had just told you. She didn’t realize how long she had been staring until Captain Robinson coughed lightly.

“It’s her, isn’t it?” He asked, following Melissa’s line of sight.

Melissa let out a shocked huh before he continued, “Ms. Y/L/N who left Abbott unexpectedly. You cried for days after she was gone. She is the one that you really want to be with. I knew when we first went casual that your mind was always on someone else. Even after you wanted to start dating I thought… no I knew that it was always someone else. I have stood and watched you for five minutes and I see that sparkle back in your eye. I missed that sparkle and it took me standing here to realize that sparkle left when she did.”

Melissa’s eyes filled with tears, “I am so sorry I didn’t tell you.”

“Hey none of that,” He said gently placing a hand on her shoulder, “I care about you alot Melissa but I just want you to be happy. She makes you happy. You would only be letting me down if you don’t go after what makes you happy.”

“You really mean that?”

“Go get your girl Melissa,” Captain Robinson smiled, “But I am assuming you will respect that I have to leave.” Melissa nodded, giving him one last hug before he made a graceful exit from the party. She breathed glancing down at her phone to see a text from Dr. Parks.

Do it Melissa. Stop being scared of everything.

It took her a moment to find you again. You had moved away from Ava, opting to sit by the edge of the pool where no one was bothering you. Melissa clenched her hands and made her way over to you, trying hard not to beat herself up. 

“Hey do you mind if I sit?” Melissa asked a small waver in her voice, “I was wondering if we could talk.”

Your heart stopped for a moment looking up at the redhead. You had planned for this moment for so long, yet now that it was here you had no words. You could still feel those damn butterflies in your stomach as you took in her casual outfit of jean shorts and a green tank top. She had her oversized jean jacket sleeve’s rolled up and you could almost remember how it smelled wrapped around you from the last time Melissa had let you borrow it.

“I am sorry maybe I am rushing it…” Melissa said turning to leave.

“Shit sorry,” You said realizing you had never answered, “Please sit. I was thinking and forgot to answer.”

Melissa smiled and sat within arms reach but not touching, “Glad to see some things haven’t changed. What were you thinking about?”

“The last time you let me borrow that jacket,” You answered honestly.

“It was two weeks after the PESCA conference,” Melissa sighed getting lost in her memories, “Janine had dragged us to another team building exercise. I think it was axe throwing originally  but it had gone horribly wrong and we ended up standing outside this shitty little resturant to get tacos becuase I thought you were going to murdere Jacob you were so hungry. You were shivering, and without thinking about it I wrapped my jacket around you. I almost let you keep it you looked so cute in it.”

You blushed at the memory, “I can’t believe you remembered that.”

“The moments I spent with you are some of the best memories I have,” Melissa admitted, “Which is what I wanted to talk to you about Y/N. I.. well I went to a lot of therapy over the summer.”

“Therapy?”

“Yeah, Jacob gave me a card to a therapist that he thought would help me,” Melissa continued blushing a deep red, “I had been struggling with a lot of guilt since we got together. Not cause we got together. Cause I enjoyed that. A lot. I fuck… let me start over.”

“Mel,” You cut in gently placing your hand gently ontop of yours, “Just take a minute and start again.”

You went to remove your hand but Melissa grabbed it rubbing her thumb across your knuckles. It took a couple of moments for Melissa to talk again. 

“I don’t want you to think that what happened between us didn’t mean something to me. It meant everything to me. I really cared a lot about you Y/N. I still do actually, I think about yous all the time and the mistakes that I made,” Melissa said and you could see the tears building in her eyes, “I spent a lot of my life thinking that I couldn’t like women. From my religion to things my Ma would say. I got so far into my head that I couldn’t get out and realize you were the best thing that ever happened to me.”

“That whole weekend we spent together was the happiest I had ever been.You understand me more than anyone in my life including Barb which says a lot. That woman has seen me through a lot of shit. But with you it was different. It was like you looked at all of the broken pieces of me and knew exactly how to piece them all together. I watched you that Sunday morning still asleep a smile across your face and I thought I had to leave because I was going to break you. And that scared me more than anything. To take a person I adored and watch them become as broken as I was.”

“You didn’t give me a chance to have an opinion in the matter,” You said curtly, “I deserved the chance.”

Melissa nodded her head, “You absolutely deserved that chance and I had no right to take it from you. I hurt you more than I probably will ever know and I am so sorry for that.”

“I never thought you were broken,” You whispered scooting just an inch closer to the older woman, “You are gorgeous, intelligent, and a badass. Not broken.”

“You still think all of those things even after I hurt you?”

“I hurt you too,” You admitted, “I should have talked to you about how I was feeling and get your side of the story too… I shouldn’t have left the way I did either.”

Melissa let out a wobbly smile, “Not liking it over there at the private school? Too many supplies and new books.”

“You know they have all of those things but they lack one really important thing,” You said squeezing her hand, “A fiery redhead.”

“Ah yes, I hear those are hard to come by nowadays,” Melissa gulped, “You think that this fiery redhead could make it up to you? I know that we can’t go back to the way that we used to be but I would like to try to make a new type of us.”

“I will spend a lifetime trying to make it up to you,” You quoted her text, “You really up for that Mel?”

“You read my texts,” Melissa smiled letting one tear finally drop. 

“Every single one of them,” You admitted wiping the tear away,  “ the good news is that you it will become a lot easier for you to make it up to you when I come back as the librarian next week.”

“Wait! You are coming back,” Melissa squealed, “You aren’t pulling my leg right?”

“I will be back at Abbott. Down the hall from you running the library. Ava found the extra funds to bring me back.”

Melissa’s smile grew as she turned towards you but paused, “Can I give you a hug?”

“Yeah. I would really like that.”

Melissa launched herself towards you wrapping her arms around you. You pulled her closer letting her scent envelope you. It had been so long since you had held Melissa and your body seemed to unravel. All of the hurt and the sadness seemed to fall away the longer she held on. She only pulled away when the breeze picked up causing you to shiver. She removed her jacket pulling it around you smiling as she pulled back and you finally saw that twinkle in her eyes return.

“You really should carry around a jacket hun. You get cold easily,” She said jokingly.

“Why would I when I can take yours?” You laughed.

Melissa chuckled as you both looked out at the pool becoming crowded with people. You rested your head on her shoulder grabbing for her hand. She places your entangled fingers in her lap squeezing it gently.

“It’s not gonna be easy to go back,” You whispered still aware of the outskirts of your anxiety.

“I know,” Melissa said laying her head on yours, “But maybe we should plan to go forward together instead of trying to rebuild the past.”

“I like that idea,” You said before adding, “I'll start answering your texts too… help you out a little.”

The redhead laughed, “I'll take any help I can get. I got a woman to win over.”

-

Taglist

@yoyo-w

@cupldscntrl

@milfslvr

@liliapleasesteponme

[alittlegiraffe]

Title: "Not Letting Go" – Part 15

The next few days were a lot.

Life didn’t slow down just because your heart was in turmoil. The kids had school, work was relentless, and the never-ending list of things that needed to be done around the house felt like it was crushing you.

And through it all—Marshall was there.

Not just physically, but there in a way he hadn’t been in years.

He picked up the slack without being asked, helped the girls with things you didn’t even realize needed helping with, and—more than anything—he didn’t push.

He didn’t push for answers. Didn’t push for conversations you weren’t ready to have.

He just… showed up.

Like right now.

You were standing in the laundry room, staring blankly at the overflowing basket of clothes, feeling like you were on the verge of a breakdown. It wasn’t just the laundry—it was everything. The dishes in the sink, the work emails piling up, the mess of emotions in your chest, the uncertainty of where you stood with Marshall, the way your own heart felt like it was betraying you by wanting him closer—

“Hey.”

His voice broke through the fog of your thoughts.

You turned, finding him leaning against the doorframe, watching you with that quiet, unreadable expression.

You forced a tired smile. “Hey.”

Marshall stepped forward, eyeing the laundry pile. “You good?”

You let out a slow breath, rubbing your temples. “I’m just… overwhelmed.”

Marshall nodded like he understood. And maybe he did.

Without another word, he stepped around you, grabbed the laundry basket, and carried it out of the room.

You blinked. “Uh—what are you doing?”

He didn’t even look back. “You got enough on your plate. I got this.”

You followed him out into the hallway. “Marshall, you don’t have to—”

He shot you a look. “I know I don’t have to. I want to.”

You opened your mouth to argue, but the truth was—you didn’t want to argue.

You just wanted to breathe.

So instead of stopping him, you swallowed past the lump in your throat and nodded. “…Thanks.”

Marshall gave you a small smirk, like he knew how hard it was for you to accept help, and disappeared into the laundry room.

And that’s how it went for the next few days.

Little things—things you had carried alone for so long—suddenly weren’t just your burden anymore.

The trash was taken out before you even noticed it was full. The kitchen was cleaned without you having to say a word. The girls had their rides figured out without you scrambling to organize everything.

And every time you felt yourself fraying at the edges, Marshall was just there.

Not forcing you to talk. Not making any grand gestures.

Just there.

Until finally, after one especially exhausting day, you found yourself standing at your bedroom door, staring down the hallway where Marshall had just disappeared into the guest room.

You hesitated.

Then, before you could overthink it, you knocked lightly on his door.

A beat of silence. Then—

The door opened.

Marshall stood there, already dressed for bed in a t-shirt and sweatpants, looking at you with mild surprise. “Hey.”

You hesitated, feeling a lump form in your throat.

What were you even doing? You weren’t sure. You just knew that for the first time in a long time, you didn’t want to be alone.

“…Stay with me?” you asked softly.

Marshall’s eyes widened slightly, but he didn’t hesitate.

“Yeah,” he murmured. “Yeah, of course.”

You exhaled, stepping back to let him follow you into your room.

And when you finally climbed into bed, when he settled beside you without a word, when his warmth was right there—it felt like something in you finally exhaled.

You weren’t ready to name whatever this was.

But for tonight—you just wanted him close.

[broidobe]

𝔥𝔢𝔞𝔳𝔢𝔫'𝔰 𝔡𝔬𝔬𝔯

requested!

☾after getting kicked out of his mom’s house again, steven seeks comfort at his girlfriend’s place, where a night of soft conversation turns into tender, sleepy intimacy☽

☾warnings: smut, angst, soft dom steven, established relationship, sleepy/lazy sex, comfort, fluff, cuddling, mentions of unstable home life, emotional reassurance, and aftercare☽

𝓼𝓸𝓷𝓰 𝓻𝓮𝓬𝓸𝓶𝓶𝓮𝓷𝓭𝓪𝓽𝓲𝓸𝓷 ᡣ𐭩 𝓴𝓷𝓸𝓬𝓴𝓲𝓷' 𝓸𝓷 𝓱𝓮𝓪𝓿𝓮𝓷'𝓼 𝓭𝓸𝓸𝓻 𝜗𝜚 𝓰𝓾𝓷𝓼 𝓷 𝓻𝓸𝓼𝓮𝓼

⁎⁺˳✧༚guns and roses masterlist

steven showed up at your house just past midnight, his curly blonde hair a mess, lips turned down in a frown as he leaned against your bedroom window, tapping lightly. you knew what had happened before he even spoke. he always came to you when things went south with his mom, when the screaming got too loud, when he felt like a burden in his own home.

you didn’t hesitate to let him in, wrapping him in a warm hug the moment he climbed through. his arms clung to you, fingers curling into the back of your shirt, breathing in your scent like it was the only thing grounding him.

"she kicked me out again," he mumbled against your shoulder, voice thick. "didn’t even let me grab my stuff."

"i'm sorry, baby," you whispered, pulling him towards your bed. "you know you can always stay here."

he nodded, toeing off his shoes before slipping under the covers with you, his body curling around yours immediately, like he was afraid you’d disappear too. you ran your fingers through his hair, scratching lightly at his scalp, and felt him relax against you, breath evening out.

"you don’t deserve that, stevie," you murmured. "you’re so good. so sweet."

he sighed, burying his face in the crook of your neck. "i don’t feel good. feels like i can’t do anything right."

"you do everything right when you’re with me."

he pulled back to look at you, those big brown eyes searching yours like he was trying to soak up every ounce of love you had for him. and then, without a word, he kissed you—soft and slow, like he needed to convince himself you were real. his hands slid under your shirt, fingertips skimming along your sides, sending little shivers up your spine.

"can i?" he whispered against your lips, his voice barely above a breath.

"always."

his touch was gentle, almost reverent as he pushed your shirt up, pressing warm kisses down your neck, over your collarbone, until he had you beneath him, his body half-draped over yours. he moved slowly, savoring each inch of your skin like he had all the time in the world. it wasn’t rushed, wasn’t desperate—it was lazy and loving, sleepy and sweet, like he just wanted to lose himself in you, to forget everything else.

when he finally sank inside you, he let out a soft, shuddering breath, forehead resting against yours. "fuck, you feel so good," he murmured, voice thick with emotion. "i love you. so much."

his hips rocked into you in slow, deep strokes, like he was trying to memorize the way you felt around him. his hands held you close, fingers laced with yours, his lips brushing against your temple, your cheek, your mouth—every touch a silent "thank you."

you clung to him, legs wrapping around his waist, pulling him in deeper, meeting his thrusts with slow, sleepy rolls of your hips. the room was quiet except for the soft sounds of your bodies moving together, his breathy moans, your whispered name falling from his lips like a prayer.

he came with a quiet, choked-off moan, burying himself as deep as he could, his body trembling slightly against yours. he stayed there, pressed to you, still inside, his breath warm against your skin.

"you okay?" he asked after a moment, voice sleepy and soft, thumb brushing over your cheek.

"perfect," you whispered, pressing a kiss to his jaw. "you?"

he nodded, pulling out slowly before gathering you in his arms, keeping you close. "never wanna let go of you."

"then don’t."

he hummed, tangling his legs with yours, nuzzling into your neck. "love you so much."

"i love you more."

and with that, you both drifted off, safe and warm in each other’s arms, the rest of the world forgotten for just a little while.

[stxrsniolo]

♰ֻㅤ۫ㅤֵ⠀𝅥⠀ the ninths ꒰͡⠀𝅄⠀͡꒱⠀⠀ִ⠀﹚⠀❟ㅤ

ㅤ◜ ✴ ⠀ 𓈒ㅤ ﹙forbidding neighbor!matt x deathly curious!reader﹚─── ⊹ ۪ ࣪ ꒰ rhea, cursed by her curiosity, faces the fallout of uncovering matt’s secret: a world of killers tied to their birth date. after witnessing the murder, she wrestles with telling her parents but is paralyzed by fear and doubt. matt pressures her to join his “pack” or flee, as she grapples with paranoia, guilt, and the looming threat to her family. ㅤ ㅤㅤ( ˖ ࣪★˳ ) : panic + death + violence + emotional turmoil + obsession + paranoia + horror + murder + psychological tension → dark fiction .

⊹ ۪ ࣪ ꒰ ( aegan's notes )﹕this piece is heavily based on damian, a work by alex mirez. tread carefully; the shadows you'll encounter here echo those from her dark narrative.

my greatest flaw had always been curiosity, too much of it; and like everything, it came with harsh, ugly consequences—ones i was now choking on in the worst way possible.

standing alone at my front door sent shudders through me, paranoia sinking its teeth in deep. how could it not? knowing matthew was leaving, even if just two houses down, left me feeling raw, exposed, a sitting duck pinned under a spotlight. i couldn’t dare ask him to stay—grumpy, hateful bastard that he was, my presence clearly grated on him—so i had to scrape together some guts to do what needed doing, solo: tell my parents everything.

i slipped inside, easing the door shut with a care i didn’t understand, like making noise might summon something i couldn’t face. mom had to be home by now; she always rolled in at four from her gig as general manager of asfil’s top bakeries, a clockwork routine.

just thinking about telling her i had to leave made me question if i even should. i mean, how the hell do you confess to your parents that you’ve got to bolt because you stumbled onto proof the neighbor’s a killer, tied to a whole damn underworld of murderers? i could scratch off the idea of matthew pulling some sick prank. i’d seen it myself—the purple trench coat bastard carving up that guy in the woods.

but that wasn’t the part that stuck in my throat.

alone in the safe, quiet cocoon of my living room, i could admit the real gut-punch in matthew’s confession: the bit about them being born on the ninth of the ninth month, some twisted cosmic trigger that made them crave blood. if i overanalyzed it—and christ, i loved overanalyzing shit—it tied into nature itself.

that was my wheelhouse.

between books, late-night deep dives into shady research, tv shows, and elise’s wild tales, i could piece it together: it was real, and i had to save my ass. if i didn’t, a knife in my gut was my fate once they sniffed out i was just… normal.

“normal,” i muttered. weird how being that was suddenly wrong when the rest of this festering world swore it was the only thing right.

“mom?” i called from the living room.

i went to shrug off my bag like always, let it flop onto the couch, but then remembered i’d lost it in the woods—phone and all. i stared at the empty spot, a hollow ache creeping in.

oh, the couch, the calm, oblivious couch in the calm, oblivious living room. why couldn’t i be that still?

“in the kitchen, baby!” mom’s voice hit me, a knot twisting tight in my throat.

she had no clue. what’d happen when she did? would she buy it? hell no. she’d lose it—worse, she’d crack the damn earth open. that was mom: impulsive, fearless, sometimes a total pain in the ass.

i shuffled toward the kitchen, spotting her chopping veggies. she was all about healthy eats; ironic for a woman swimming in pastries and bread all day, but i loved her cooking anyway.

mom was a health nut through and through, kept herself slim, but those green eyes—mirror images of mine—were starting to show their age.

“how’d your day go? school good?” she asked, flashing a wide, warm smile that steadied me a little.

“yeah, everything’s been great,” i lied. “dad?”

“he’s late tonight, work’s piling up, called to say so.”

“cool. uhhhh, i wanna talk to you both at dinner, then,” i said, realizing my mistake the second it slipped out.

mom’s brow furrowed, and she set the knife down slow, its blade catching the light in a way that jolted me. i fought to hide it.

“something wrong? school trouble? bullying? oh god, i’ve seen those tv shows, rhea, honey, we love you, you’re worth everything. don’t you dare think about hurting yourself! no, no, no, stay grounded, always grounded. i thought it couldn’t happen to you, you’re so bright, you’ve changed—” she rattled it off so fast i couldn’t cut in. “don’t think being eighteen stops me, i’ll sue that damn school! nobody messes with my girl! tell me exactly what’s going on!”

“mom! mom!” i broke in when i finally got a breath. “it’s not that, no. nobody’s bullying me. stop watching those shows, please.”

carmindy—mom’s real name—pressed a hand to her chest, letting out a dramatic sigh of relief. “oh, that’s a weight off,” she said, then went right back to slicing veggies like nothing happened. “so, what’s up? tell me now, i’ll fill your dad in later, you know he tunes out everything but food at dinner.”

and he did—dinner, sometimes lunch, he’d come home ravenous, plow through two plates of mom’s light cooking because one never cut it, but his appetite wasn’t the issue.

i’d just clocked something: i couldn’t breathe a word about matthew’s secret.

tell her—the woman who’d just vowed to sue anyone who crossed me? spill a story that sounded like it crawled out of a lunatic’s head unless you’d seen it? say we had to move now or a pack of killers would carve up my face? a faint memory—or maybe just a gut scream—echoed in my skull: don’t talk. don’t say it. don’t tell.

and i wouldn’t, no way, because she’d never buy it, and it’d end bad for me.

it always ended bad for me—that’s how i knew i couldn’t spill what was churning in my brain. telling my parents was as dangerous as stumbling into matthew’s world in the first place.

i jumped when the kitchen phone shrilled, nerves still raw. mom wiped her hands on her floral apron and picked it up. i stood stiff as a board.

“hello? who? oh, hi! weird you’re calling. yep, she’s here, hang on. rhea, it’s for you.”

weird. who’s calling? matthew’s name flashed in my head, why would he call here? to rat me out to my folks? my heart slammed against my ribs, the room going eerily quiet. i edged to the wall by the fridge where the phone hung, hands shaking as i pressed it to my ear.

“yeah?” i croaked, swallowing hard.

“ding-dong, who’s crashing the big shindig?” olivia’s voice sang through, a lilting rhyme that made me exhale in relief. “i’ve called your cell like ten times—no answer! know how long it’s been since i rang your house? back when we’d gab all night about the O.C.— we were so tiny!”

“battery died, sorry,” i lied, glancing sideways to make sure mom wasn’t eavesdropping.

“then charge that thing! i need to send you pics of my outfit options for tonight’s party, i can’t pick!”

“the party… yeah, about that, i’m not going.”

“what?!” she screeched. “why? beause of elise’s crap about that stupid bet? come on, if she had her way, we’d all be nuns!”

“no, not the bet. i’m just… tired, you know?” another lie.

“rhea, it’s our last year, we swore we’d hit every event, every party, live it up! you can’t bail!”

“i know, i know. i’m sorry, i’m just wiped.”

“wiped? nothing a party and a few drinks can’t fix! we’ll go for a couple hours, then bounce—come on, please! don’t turn into elise 2.0!”

for a split second, i wanted to spill it all over the line, but if mom couldn’t know, olivia sure as hell couldn’t either.

“i won’t be elise 2.0, it’s just… i’m…” my voice faltered, no clue what to say, so i faked a cough, dropping to a rasp. “i’m getting sick, got a fever. you think i don’t wanna go? i’m dying to, but mom won’t let me out like this, she’s freaking out, she didn’t want me catching anything, you know how she gets…”

“oh! i know all about mrs. carmindy when you’re sick. fine, i’ll leave you be tonight, but don’t pull that excuse again. get better and if you change your mind, text me!” she hung up. i slotted the phone back, darting out of the kitchen before mom could pounce with questions.

i stopped in the living room, letting out a shaky breath. It felt like too much was clawing at me from the inside, like i was scared to even peek out the window. witnessing a murder, then finding out about a pack of killers? not exactly light news. my stomach churned as it hit me: staying quiet made me complicit.

i got it, i was tangled up in a brutal crime now.

i nearly hyperventilated. only thing that stopped a full-on panic attack was a knock at the door—sharp, deliberate, no bell, just fists on wood.

that same jittery dread from olivia’s call spiked again. i crept toward the door, hesitating. a flood of nightmare scenes flashed through my head, but i gripped the knob and yanked it open.

nobody. just my bag, sitting there on the stoop, streaked with dirt and grass. i snatched it, slammed the door, and bolted upstairs to my room. i wanted to lock everything—door, window, the whole damn house—but it’d be pointless, as pointless as letting fear eat me alive. i couldn’t stop the terror, but i could at least try to see this mess without losing my mind.

break it down: everything was fucked, royally fucked.

but didn’t i, more than anyone, know you could claw your way out of awful shit? problem was, this wasn’t just a bad spot—it was a colossal, deadly mess, and i’d kicked it off. me and my meddling.

i stared at the bag in my hands, dirt smudged across it, and knew only matthew could’ve dropped it there. knew, too, it was his way of hammering home that his secret was real, and now i was in it.

that night, i didn’t even eat; the second my head hit the pillow, silent tears soaked it, the image of that guy getting stabbed burned into my brain.

morning hit like a slap, the alarm jolting me out of bed.

i’d slept, somehow, but felt like i hadn’t shut my eyes. in the bathroom mirror, i tried convincing myself it could be a normal day, or at least fake it if i tried hard enough. those purple shadows under my eyes? nothing if i willed it. with effort, i could shove the nerves down. so i showered, dressed, and trudged downstairs to eat alone like always, mom and dad long gone for work.

stepping out for school, i paused, scanning the sidewalk stretching past the house. empty. i lingered, half-expecting matthew to slink by, but he didn’t, so i started walking, jumpy as hell, eyes darting everywhere, clutching my bag straps like a lifeline.

every few steps, leaving the shaky safety of home behind, though how safe was it, really? i half-thought the purple trench coat guy would pop up, those murky blue eyes boring into me, fear dripping off him. paranoid? sure, but didn’t i have damn good reason?

the trek dragged on forever until asfil central Institute loomed into view. its buildings still had that old-school vibe with ochre walls, massive windows olivia called chocolate bars. the town’s main school, it’d been there forever, growing over the years. they’d tacked on wings when it doubled as an elementary too, so it was a swarm of kids to teens, always loud as hell. never been so glad for the chaos until now.

seeing that flood of students buzzing around eased me a bit. with this many bodies, who’d pick me out? i crossed the waxed path flanked by glossy, wet grass and stepped inside, a flicker of safety hitting me. nothing could touch me here, not with teachers eyeballing everything.

in geography class, i plopped into my usual seat next to elise, who was nose-deep in a book—typical. she read more than me, way more than olivia. not that i didn’t, but elise lived in those pages.

i set out my notebook and pencil, only to jump at a syrupy voice cutting through the room:

“good morning!” olivia flicked a strand of platinum blonde from her face, flashing a perfect cherry-lipped smile. she was gorgeous and owned it, strutting it for all to see. a few mumbled back greetings.

anyone eyeballing her might peg her as the mean, popular blonde cliché. truth was, she had charm—won people over, not cruel, just real. folks around her clocked the difference between spite and honesty. couldn’t hate her, not even for being loud, outgoing, sometimes too sweet.

“you’re really out here tanking our self-esteem,” i teased as she sauntered over.

our desks were for two, but olivia perched on ours until the teacher showed.

“not on purpose,” she shot back, tossing waves to the room over our heads. “you know that’s not me—i just like sparking some joy, and i can’t do that if i’m not buzzing too. joy’s loud, right? spreads the vibe like cheerleaders! i love giving everyone a good morning, making ‘em feel alive.”

“oh, what’d their lives be without your hellos?” elise drawled, eyes still glued to her book.

“i’ve wondered that, pretty sure they’d smile less…” olivia said, a real twinge of sadness in her voice.

elise looked up, scowling, and grabbed her geography text—earth on the cover. she angled it so olivia could see.

“see this?” she asked, tapping the planet. olivia nodded, curious. “that’s the world with your hellos. now this—” she flipped it to the same earth on the back. “—the world without. spot a difference? no? because there isn’t one.”

olivia got it fast, her brows sinking, nose scrunching so hard i burst out laughing.

“that’s your miserable world. in happy people land, we ignore wannabe comedians who aren’t funny,” she snapped, flipping elise the bird. elise smirked, victorious, and sank back into her book.

then olivia blindsided me. “you look good. didn’t think you’d show after that fever. forced to come?”

“i got better,” i said, aiming for calm. “mom’s got killer remedies.”

“perfect!” olivia chirped, hopping off to chat up some guys two desks over. i exhaled quietly, only to catch elise side-eyeing me.

“so, what’s the real story?” she asked, voice low.

“what story?” i played dumb. elise was sharp, i couldn’t dodge that.

“you, last night, fever?” she flipped a page, cool as ice. “that’s what you told olivia. what’s the actual reason you skipped the party?”

“oh, the bet thing bugged me,” i lied, tossing in some nonchalance to throw her off. “stayed home, watched the x-factor.”

elise’s face soured, she wasn’t buying it, but all she could do was fake it and read. i’d lit a spark of doubt, though, and part of me wondered if i should tell her. she was the steadiest of us, the smartest.

problem was, this was heavy: murder wasn’t small potatoes, and i was complicit, i saw it, didn’t snitch. that, plus the fear, was gnawing at my skull.

right then, a weird itch crawled over me—like eyes on my back. i glanced over my shoulder, casual as i could, and there he was: matthew, slouched in a corner desk, staring, alone, messy hair as always, arms on the table, hunched like he could vanish, but those dark blue eyes? pure disapproval, no mistaking it.

class ended, everyone bolted; elise and olivia darted ahead, yapping about mall clothing sales—shared vice of theirs—while i lagged, scribbling the board notes i’d zoned out on all hour, distraction’s price.

finished after even the teacher split, i packed up and headed out, but just as i hit the hall, someone yanked my arm, dragging me back in. took a second to register matthew slamming the door, glaring at me like i’d pissed in his coffee.

“you moving? told your parents yet?” he fired off, no pause.

“couldn’t. couldn’t do it,” i admitted. he huffed, head tipping back like he was scraping for patience. i stood frozen, gripping my bag straps. “mom started ranting she’d sue anyone who messed with me! i can’t tell them—you don’t get it, what they’d do! they wouldn’t even believe me, they’d think i’m… crazy.”

“not bad, they’d ship you to a loony bin, you’d be safe there.”

my gut iced over. hated that word, hated it deep. couldn’t even picture being tagged a nutcase.

“what?! i’m not going anywhere!”

“damn it, rhea!” he roared, storming closer, all heat and fury. “you make me wanna strangle you, you know that? so much waffling, i can’t stand it.” i stumbled back, half-thinking he’d actually try. “but i told you i won’t, relax.” he eased off after clocking my flinch, eyeing me head to toe. “why’re you dressed like that?”

thrown, i glanced down at my simple floral sundress, light for asfil’s sticky heat.

“it’s bad? It’s just a dress,” i said, flat.

“it’s ridiculous,” he snapped. cold water dumped on me and i bristled instantly. “we don’t dress like that. or laugh like a jackass like you did earlier.”

“no, you kill. way more normal.”

“you think it’s normal?” he asked, a flicker of something naive in his tone.

“it’s sarcasm, matthew!” i barked, lunging for the door, but he blocked me. “let go!”

“first, stop calling me matthew—call me matt. second, if you’re not leaving, you’ve gotta join this.” his voice dropped, heavy. “still don’t get it? you’re in real danger, rhea.”

i held his stare, hunting for something to trust, but the murder flashed up—him, what i’d once thought he could be. words died in my throat. i tore free and bolted, melting into the hall crowd, sour and stupid for letting his dig about my clothes sting, when some leather-jacketed creep’s opinion shouldn’t matter.

still, i shoved that aside and locked on his last words.

i was in real danger.

second class, i wanted the ground to swallow me and spit me out in some asian backwater. matt didn’t glance my way again; elise rambled about somnium, a new book she’d started, hooked deep. olivia wouldn’t shut up about how she lifted everyone’s spirits, volunteering for grad prep with her “fresh” over-the-top ideas.

morning classes dragged, then the walk home stretched long. i dodged the bus with elise and olivia—ditched them the second i was out—trying to see this from another angle as i cut through town. mom’s, dad’s, olivia’s, elise’s. hers made the most sense: call the cops, get safe. logical as hell.

maybe i should just pick up the phone, spill it all, sell matt out, find some peace.

i got home, leaning against the door a sec, the silence inside was thick, like it’d teamed up with my fears to rattle me more. i dumped my bag on the couch, eyeing the house phone on its little table, ready for me to confess, like it was the natural move. wasn’t it? i edged toward it, hesitant. why so much doubt? i lifted it, punched the first digit—

the doorbell shrieked.

i flinched hard, dropping the phone, its coiled cord snapping under the table like a stretched spring. my brain stung with the worst—purple trench coat guy, finger on the bell—but the panic faded fast. could be olivia, dragging me to the mall, or elise, sniffing out my morning lie. could be anyone.

i opened the door, forcing optimism, and there he was.

“oh. forget to say my shoes are ridiculous too?” i quipped, relief leaking into the words. matt squinted, nudging me aside to slink in without asking, shutting the door.

“nah, you already know that,” he said, flat, indifferent. “you’re alone, right?”

“you’re not exactly polite, you know that?” i huffed, arms crossing. “and no, i’m not—”

“i swear i am when it matters,” he cut in, strolling into the living room. i tailed him fast, but he stopped by the couch, near the table where the phone usually sat, now on the floor. he stared at it. so did i, cursing myself. “what were you doing?” he turned, slow.

lie, lie, lie!

“calling olivia, we’re going out,” i said, forcing calm, rooted between the living room and hall.

matt’s brow creased, sharpening those freakish eyes—blue so dark the pupils blurred into them, weird as hell.

“you’re lying,” he said, stepping closer, deliberate. i backed up. “i know when people lie, rhea.”

“i’m not, why would i?” i mumbled.

my back hit the hall wal—no more room. he kept coming, closing in, his polished boots now kissed mine, pinning me with a stare that raked my face like he was digging for something.

“gonna snitch on us? on… me?” he whispered, breath hot on my cheek, goosebumps prickling up.

i was scared shitless—of course i was—but something, some dumb gut whisper, said he wouldn’t hurt me. showing it, though? that could screw me.

“no,” i said, firm. “wasn’t gonna.”

he went quiet, seconds stretching. i braced for him to call bullshit, but he just stepped back, shrugging like it was nothing.

“good, because if you do, they’ll kill you wherever you are: you, anyone with your last name, anyone tied to you. parents, friends, the works. you know that?” he said, casual as hell.

i sucked in a breath, peeling off the wall. snitching wasn’t looking so smart anymore.

it crashed back: real danger, him, the killers i’d glimpsed past that cabin door—all real. the thought of them gutting my family twisted me up. my throat knotted, but i swallowed it. matt wandered the living room, eyeing every knickknack like a museum tourist; photos of me gap-toothed, in kiddie soccer, with cousins, with my folks.

a version of me who didn’t know this secret.

“so, you’re staying, huh?” he said, tracing a finger over one of mom’s weird crafts—a headless, fat woman figurine.

“guess so,” i muttered, watching him close. “don’t touch that, it might break.”

“never break what i don’t mean to,” he said, lingering on it until he felt like stopping. “you scared?” he spat like it was a normal question.

“if i was, would that be wrong?”

“nah, fear’s nice,” he said, voice low, dragging.

“fear of getting murdered is nice,” i echoed, dripping sarcasm so he’d get how insane that sounded. he just leaned closer to inspect another carving.

“not that; panic itself—i like it. not feeling it, seeing it. get me?”

“i get i expected anything from you but this. never thought we’d be in my living room chatting about you liking scared people. not exactly… normal. but you’re not normal.”

“yeah? what tipped you off?” sarcasm, thick. “i know i’m not. neither are you.” he dropped the decor, facing me, calm as a still pond. “someone who won’t take no for an answer when a kid won’t leave his house to play, who keeps spying? not too normal.”

“i was a kid, okay?” i huffed, looking away.

“but you’re not now, and curiosity still owns you,” he said. “if you were so normal, we wouldn’t be here, you wouldn’t be in danger, and you wouldn’t be this terrified.”

“at least that’s normal, right? anyone in my spot would be shitting bricks,” i said, flopping onto the big couch.

“we’ll keep you safe from them,” he said, exhaling like it annoyed him more than anything. “we run in packs, watch each other’s backs. mine’s small and loyal as hell. maybe that’s why.”

“oh! a pack. from the makers of ‘i’m a killer and you’re dead’ comes ‘my murder buddies know about you,’” i quipped. he stared, blank.

“guess that’s a joke.”

“nevermind,” i muttered, rolling my eyes. “what do you call killer packs? gotta have a name.”

“like… packs, yeah. we can kill our own—saw that in the woods, probably nicolas settling a score. happens a lot—unfixable beef, strongest takes a life, but in a pack, we bond, swear protection, we keep that until we’re dead,” he said, sinking into the solo couch across me. “mine’s four: chris, tatiana, archie, me. chris and i go way back—told him about you last night, he’s cool with you joining.”

“great, no need to charm them,” i grumbled, flat. “they all kill left and right too?” dumb question, i realized late.

“we all do—some more than others,” he said, no guilt. “our pack’s chill compared to most. we hang, archie guts squirrels for kicks, we drink, that’s it.”

“yeah, squirrel-gutting’s real zen,” i said, faking a nod.

“it is. other packs hunt—practice for snagging people—or do rounds, stalking targets. then there’s hobbies that’d… shock anyone,” he said.

“not even gonna ask,” i said, shaking my head, then sighed. “do i at least… get time to think?” i was dreading his answer.

“today, sure. but you still don’t get how big this is, i’m not drawing you a damn diagram,” he said, standing. “simple: leave or join. leave, maybe you keep your life. stay, they’ll kill you unless you convince everyone you’re not some normal chick who knows too much.”

“it’s just… so sudden, so unfair—”

“should’ve thought twice before tailing me.” with that, he cut across to the door and vanished. i sat there, drowning in panic, disgust, pressure, a dangerous mess of confusion. only one thing was clear: i didn’t know what to do.

i shot up, locked the door, and everything hit at once, my emotions racing, desperation winning, shoving me upstairs to my room. rage tangled with fear; i kicked the poof in the corner, then slammed a stack of books off my desk.

“damn it! damn it!” i yelled, tears soaking my face like i’d lost some war, i crumpled onto the bed, sobbing hard—angry, scared. how could i ditch my life? how could he just say it, calm as hell, like he could steer my fate without a shred of regret?

i curled up tight, remembering what i’d chased as a kid: him. regretted following, regretted crafting some mystery around him, regretted thinking he just needed a nudge to crack his shell.

all lies. he’d never been sick, his parents locked him up for a rotten truth we now shared. i hadn’t killed, but i felt complicit, watched that guy die, couldn’t snitch, now stuck with a secret i had to live.

my life had to shift, but that meant leaving something behind; and to do that, i had to finally get what i’d been chanting since morning: i was in real danger: matt was a killer, and i had to try being one too—or my family and i were dead meat.

whispering that, i sank into exhausted sleep.

“the secret’s real…”

⠀̋⠀★ . ᅠtaglist ູᅠ͞ — @courta13 @marrykisskilled @chrislova @sturnshood @inspiredangel @strnilolover @emely9274 @sturns-mermaid @ariieeesworld @pixie-sticks-are-good @luvjaeeee @sturnslutz @mattswifeyy @oopsiedaisydeer @v4lsturn @pair-of-pantaloons @idkwhatthisevenislol @sturn777 @whore4mattsturniolo @madifilipowiczisthebest @fratbrochrisgf @ivysturnss @mattsatellite @sturnsblogs @izzylovesmatt @allisonclairee @m4gz-png @mr-wrinkleton @bluestriips @surprisecurlyfriesbackup @immaqulate @wysmols @chrepsi @mattslolita @ribbonlovergirl @milo-the-dog @madisturni @ariestrxsh @myluck4u-com

[gezelligs-world]

Crawling Back To You

(Bada Lee x Fem!OC)

Summary: After break up, Sara tried to move on by attempting to have another relationship with a guy. But Sara still can’t forget about a certain girl that always haunts her mind like a ghost.

Reminder: This work is purely based on the author’s imagination.

Warning: slight NSFW

“Hey Sara, you’re getting off early?” Sara looked towards her coworker, Min-ju who is still busy typing on her desktop. She replied politely as she put her belongings inside her bag.

“Yes, I’m afraid so…” Sara contemplates whether or not she will tell the truth. Min-ju has been an acquaintance of hers for several months now, she’s sure she heard her reason from others several times already considering how long Min-ju has been working here in this company.

“I have a date today.” Min-ju stopped typing and turned towards Sara with a smile.

“Really? That’s amazing. You finally told yourself to have a date with someone. A guy or a gal?” Sara looked down and back to Min-ju.

“A guy. A really nice one.” Sara smiled as she zipped her handbag and put it over her shoulder. She stood up and was about to turn and walk away but Min-ju’s words stopped her from making any further movements.

“I’m glad you finally got over her. Separating in good terms is one of the worst breakups out there. I understand why it took you so long to try and be with someone else.” If only emotions can speak, it’s already speaking gibberish out of Sara’s body. Sara turned to Min-ju’s direction and smiled politely.

“Thank you, Min-ju. You’re such a great… friend.” Sara bowed lightly and walked away. Not bothering to see what was Min-ju’s expression behind her pause.

Sara walked outside her company building, not forgetting to smile politely at her colleagues. She walked at the parking lot and saw a gray Honda car with a decent guy leaning towards the side. Kang-ho.

She met him when she is drinking herself out at a bar. They talked and it somehow led to exchanging socials, with Sara drunk. Kang-ho is a proof that they indeed live in a small world because she found out that he is a friend of a friend. A magna cum laude, an engineer, handsome, masculine— who wouldn’t want him?

“Ready to go?” Sara smiled at his question and nodded. Kang-ho smiled back and opened the door for her.

“So— where are we going?” Sara asked as she buckled her seatbelt.

“Don’t worry. You’re going to love it.” Kang-ho reassured, checking on her if she had already buckled her seatbelt. Once secured, Kang-ho started the engine.

Sara looked through the window as she admired the busy streets of Seoul. Seoul is a noisy city but she once loved it. Once loved it.

Cities like this can be her comfort but also her hell. It’s a small world after all. Millions of people walk around the busy streets and sidewalks every day. You can either walk past them or perhaps bump into them that will somehow turn to a good friend in the near future— maybe even a lover.

Flashback

“I know! I know! I’m on my way!” Sara exclaimed through the phone as she jogged over the busy streets of Seoul. People don’t even care when she went past through them. This is probably a common scenario to them. Her steps paused when the pedestrian signal is in red mode.

“Come on… come on…” She bit her lips with her heels continuously making a stepping sound on the ground. Once the signal turned green, Sara immediately jogged to cross the pedestrian line.

Sara smiled in satisfaction when she finally got over to the other side as if she won the first place trophy.

“Not so bad—” Sara gasped when she felt a hard body bumped into her.

“Oh my gosh! I’m so sorry!” Sara exclaimed when she saw the stranger’s coffee got splashed all over the stranger’s clothes.

“Nah, it’s fi… ne” The stranger looked up to Sara’s face and her mouth suddenly shut. A foreigner.

“Ma’am?” Sara asked which made the stranger went out of her mind’s floatiness. Thank goodness— she speaks korean.

“Yes yes— sorry. You just speak korean so well despite you being a foreigner.” The stranger complimented Sara which made her chuckled.

“I’ve been here for five years now. Learned the language in a hard way.” Sara half jokingly said.

“Can I give you money for your laundry? I felt bad for your clothes.” Sara looked at the stranger’s white button up shirt that is stained with coffee.

“Oh no. It’s alright—” The stranger shook her hands in disagreement but got cut off by Sara.

“I insist. Please. Just give me your name and number, I’ll send the money.” The stranger thought for a moment and finally agreed.

“The name’s Bada. Bada Lee.”

“Sara?” Sara’s eyes opened when she felt Kang-ho’s hand shaking her shoulder. She sat up and looked through the window.

“Are we here? Sorry I fell asleep.” Sara rubbed her eyes as her surroundings went clear. They are in a fine dining restaurant that overlooks the entire Seoul.

“Do you like it here? You once mentioned you like city lights.” Sara turned to Kang-ho and smiled appreciatively.

“I like it. Thank you for bringing me here.” Sara smiled politely which made Kang-ho nod in satisfaction. He got out of the car before opening Sara’s door. They then went inside with Kang-ho’s hand supporting Sara’s lower back.

They went inside the restaurant and the waiter guides them to their designated seats.

“The interior is amazing.” Sara complimented as she looked around the place.

“Yeah? I’m one of the engineers that participated on the process of building this restaurant.” Kang-ho boasted naturally. Sara looked at him in slight awe.

“Truly? No wonder.” Both of them chuckled. The waiter approached them and handed two menus for each of them.

“Ladies first.” Kang-ho proposed making Sara hum.

“I’ll have a risotto for the appetizer. For the main course, I’ll have the grilled fish. For desserts— blueberry cheesecake. Wine also for the drink.” Kang-ho smiled when Sara finished and also ordered his food. The waiter bowed and went to inform the cooks.

Even after ordering, Sara still looked at the menu to check some possible dishes she would like you to try next time. Perhaps even try making it at home if possible.

Sara noticed that Kang-ho is quiet and not talkative as usual. She looked up and saw him anxiously looking around— did she just saw a hint of annoyance in his eyes?

“Is something wrong?” Sara asked which made Kang-ho turn his head to her.

“Sorry— it’s just… a lot men are staring at you.” Sara looked around and he was right. Majority of the men inside keep on glancing their way. Perhaps it’s because she’s a foreigner. Sara turned her head back to Kang-ho.

“Does it bother you?” Sara asked, her eyes narrowing as she waited for his response. His response will change her perspective of him.

“A-A little. Yeah. A little. I just don’t like them staring at what’s mine, you know?” Sara’s lips formed a thin line but quickly hid it with a hum.

Flashback

“Baby! How do I look?” Sara asked as she fixed her earrings. She then heard footsteps approaching her bedroom. Sara turned and saw Bada leaning towards the door frame with a smile of adoration plastered on her face.

“Beautiful as always, dove.” Bada approached Sara and kissed her cheek with Bada’s hands around her waist. Sara chuckled and turned to the mirror again.

“Don’t you think the skirt is too short?” Bada hummed and looked down at Sara’s skirt.

“Wear whatever you want, pretty. I wanna show the world how gorgeous my lover is.” Bada turned her around and nuzzled her nose against Sara’s.

“Don’t let other people’s opinion stop you from expressing yourself. Doll yourself up and look pretty. Leave the fighting to me.” Bada leaned in and kissed Sara’s soft lips. Sara smiled through the kiss and wrapped her arms around Bada’s neck.

The night had progressed smoothly. Sara and Kang-ho had a great time inside the fine dining restaurant. Lots of laughing, hum of approvals because of how delicious the food was, and maybe a hint of getting to know more about each other.

Sara and Kang-ho went out of the restaurant with Kang-ho talking about his work as an engineer in different companies. Sara just nod in approval trying to understand the unfamiliar words only used in his field.

“It must be exhausting, working at a well-known company.” Sara commented as they went down the stairs since the restaurant is elevated from the ground.

“A little bit, but it’s all I have dreamed of since I was a child. Working at a company known for its quality.” Sara smiled at how Kang-ho seemed so committed in his work

It certainly reminded her of someone.

“You should visit my workplace soon. My colleagues will surely like you.” Kang-ho suggested as they went to the parking lot where his car is parked.

“Soon.” Sara replied.

Flashback

Sara sat on the floor of Bada’s studio as she admired the way her girlfriend moves as she dance. At that moment, her world revolves around Bada. She fully understands why so many people admires Bada for who she was.

She looked down the floor and chuckled at the things around her. A blanket to warm her incase the ac gets too cold, a plushie for comfort, her favorite snacks and drinks, Bada’s phone where her favorite movie is playing, Bada’s Ipad incase her phone ran out of battery, and Bada’s jacket incase the blanket is not much of a use.

Bada glanced at Sara when she heard her girlfriend’s chuckle. She smiled and raised her brows. Bada lowered down the volume of the speaker and adjusted her cap.

“Yes?” Sara looked up and saw Bada walking towards where she’s sitting. She chuckled in response when Bada pulled her up for her to straddle her lap.

“Isn’t this too much? Your dance studio is not even that cold.” Bada tilted her head and chuckled.

“That’s because I adjusted the temperature to your liking. Don’t want this pretty girl to catch a cold, right? I will be a bad girlfriend if I let that happen.” Bada replied while caressing Sara’s waist in up and down motion. Sara tried her hardest to not satisfy Bada’s pride by showing not too much reaction. Damn, this girl got her wrapped around her finger.

“But you like it cooler— and you’re sweating after dance. Goodness sake! Look! You’re still sweating—” Sara’s ramble got cut off by Bada’s soft lips against hers. She immediately melted through the kiss as she wrapped her arms around her girlfriend’s neck with Bada’s hands gripping on her waist.

Bada’s hands gripped on Sara’s waist harder to pull her up, pulling her closer than the previous contact. Sara whined through the kiss, asking for more— no— demanding for more.

The kiss ended, followed by two woman who were breathing heavily— they didn’t regret falling out of breath though.

“My place?” Bada’s question echoed around the four walls of the dance studio but Sara shortly nodded with a lustful emotion present in her eyes.

Bada smiled and placed a short kiss on her girlfriend’s lips. Before scooping her up to go to the parking lot and drive to her apartment.

They didn’t waste time when both of them arrived inside Bada’s apartment. Their makeout session continued behind the four walls surrounding them.

Sara is pinned to the bed with Bada’s soft lips distracting her from the outside world. Bada’s kisses never failed to take her to heaven.

Others might send them a judgmental stare and throw words portraying their action as a sin but Sara never cared. Bada is too good to be a sin. No human goes up to heaven without making many sins. If there’s no such place where she’s allowed to rest peacefully once she died— Sara will gladly stand in hell with her heaven in her arms.

Sara’s thoughts got cut off when she felt Bada sucking on her sweet spot that made her mind go blank. Her hands quickly made its way to her blouse but Bada’s hand stopped hers from doing so.

“A beautiful girl like you should only be lying pretty as her clothes got removed one by one. Be the pillow princess as you should be.” Sara whimpered from just hearing Bada’s words. It definitely made her wet down there.

Her whimpers only got louder as Bada indeed removed her clothes, she let Bada do all the work— it’s not like she will let Sara do any minimal work, she always treated her like a princess after all. After the last remaining clothing, Bada’s kisses went from her neck to her chest and to her stomach. Sara felt Bada’s movements suddenly stop as she met Bada’s eyes.

“Thank you for the meal…” Sara gasped and moaned loudly as Bada’s tongue went to where it belonged to.

Intimate moments with Bada has always been a romantic feeling. Not like the others who use other people’s body for pleasure. Bada is more of a man than any other guy who walked into Sara’s life.

It made her realize that loving someone is not so bad at all. Especially if you have someone who loves you and treats you as if it’s as easy as breathing air.

Sara was busy admiring the city lights but looked down and smiled at the sleeping Bada beside her. Their clothes are scattered around the bedroom including Bada’s cap which was in the doorknob. All of what’s left are their naked bodies with their markings of each other left as a sign of their commitment and their love.

She leaned down and placed a soft kiss on Bada’s lips which causes Bada to stir and to tightened her grip around Sara’s waist.

Sara smiled at the action that it almost made her heart swell with affection.

“I love you, Bada… so much.” Sara mumbled through Bada’s ear and kissed her cheek once more.

Sara sipped her wine as she admired the city lights below her. After Kang-ho dropped her off the apartment building, she immediately grab her leftover wine and sat at the edge of her bed to look at the view of Seoul.

She glanced at the frame placed on her bedside table that was facing the wall. Sara turned it to face her revealing a photo of her and Bada. The only evidence of their love left in her bedroom.

“We look so happy here…” Sara smiled sadly as she grabbed the frame. She wonders where it all went wrong. Is it there busy schedules? Bada’s dreams? Her dreams? Their time? The disappearance of physical affection? Sara never knows.

Both of them knew that their relationship was slowly falling apart. There is no one to blame. They’re in their 20s— still figuring out life and nowhere in place to be considered a grownup.

She somehow wonders if she ever crosses Bada’s mind. Probably yes, but she will never know what emotions Bada were feeling whenever she got reminded of their love.

Their breakup resulted in good terms, with communications, and with clarifications. Sara hoped it wasn’t the case. She hated that it ended in good terms. The four walls surrounding her knew the cries of pain she let out every night just by merely a memory they shared. The touches. The smiles. The laughters. The kisses. The I love yous. She hated them all.

Sara didn’t even notice a tear running down her cheeks as she thought about those moments that continuously lingered her mind.

Without further to do, she grabbed her phone and messages Kang-ho.

‘I believe our relationship will never work out. I apologize if I ever let you think that this will lead into something serious. I’m sorry.’

Sara sighed and put down her phone. She stared at the ceiling, the pressure on her chest was finally free.

Maybe she was too busy being hers to fall for somebody new.

Might do a part two :)

[the-mpreg-guy]

sometimes i worry i'm being a misogynist when i get angry at mary about some of her actions during season 12 (i dont hate her i just think shes very complex and i am biased bc of my own hang ups with my family) and its like. god i kind of wish there was an easy answer to who is right during season 12 bc sometimes people want dean to be fully wrong or mary to be fully wrong and i just dont think either is completely wrong or right.

For the record, I don't think you're a misogynist for having a bias you're fully aware of and not making other ppls problem. Mary Winchester is a complicated character for me, because on the one hand I do think she's a very complex human and that bringing her back on the show opened new doors for interesting relationship dynamics and plotlines, but on the other hand I was cursed with incredibly messed up Mommy issues that just make her unenjoyable for me personally.

I think a lot of cognitive dissonance that people (me) experience regarding Mary's insertion in the late seasons of Supernatural have to do with how the narrative seemingly punishes Dean for wanting incredibly valid things. He wants another adult to shoulder the burden, he wants a parent around who isn't going to neglect his emotional needs or put protecting Sammy solely to him. Mary diminishes these wants, basically chalking his desires down to him wanting a mother who "cuts the crusts off his sandwiches" and like. Man, that's not what he was asking for. He just wants her there.

And we're all incredibly attached to Dean at this point (we're at 12 seasons and counting after all), so we look at the narrative (and other characters) punishing Dean for these very valid, realistic wants, and are like. Wow, Mary Winchester sucks.

And honestly that's a fair assessment of the situation. She's not being a great mom, she's not being fair to either of her kids, and she is reducing incredibly normal wants down to shallow, ridiculous things that no adult should be demanding of their mother.

But the thing is it's never that simple or black and white.

Mary is so fucking incredibly valid for needing space in season 12. She just came back from the dead, her husband is dead, her kids are in their late 30s/early 40s, the entire world is fucked, and she doesn't have a relationship with these two men who were her babies literally like. An hour ago to her. That's INSANE. That's a situation that there is literally no precedent for. She can't fall back on her husband or literally anyone she knew for support her because they're all dead.

It would be like if it had been 40yrs topside when Dean came back from hell and he found out that his entire family was dead and also he had a kid who is now technically older than him and wants to have a relationship with him. Just to put things into perspective. And we wouldn't blame Dean for needing time and space to process that.

Dean and Mary are both valid. Their feelings and reactions to the situation are valid. But unfortunately being valid doesn't mean you're being fair. Neither of them are fully correct for having expectations of each other, but neither of them are exactly wrong either.

The real villain in the situation is Amara, who didn't bring Mary back because Mary deserved another shot, who didn't bring Mary back because Mary wanted to come back, who didn't bring Mary back because Sam never got to know her as a mom, but brought her back because she assumed there was something wrong specifically in how Dean loved her post-death.

Mary was selfishly brought back on the whim of a god-like being who didn't care that it would bring greater pain to Mary and Dean. She didn't like the way that narrative went, so she, like so many other people in Mary and Dean's life, decided to interfere.

I suspect that the reasons that you and I don't enjoy Mary's inclusion in later seasons is that a) fandom at large blames either Mary or Dean entirely for their conflict and makes out that one of them is a bad person (primarily Dean, which is unfair for a multitude of reasons), b) people act like Amara was correct for her reasoning in bringing Mary back and c) the narrative ultimately punishes both of them by killing Mary again. It's just not fun to watch, not even in a "my faves are suffering" kinda way. We dislike Mary because the Mary plotline is unfair, and we've grown up with a lot of unfairness.

[funkii4-blog]

A simple Discord chat message in official server gave me the wildest angst idea for this arc’s special

(Disclaimer: I haven’t properly watched the Cosmology saga so this may not make sense based on that, if so just pretend it does for ✨drama✨)

~

In official server we were talking about how they could continue the subplot of 4 being seriously injured in this latest episode; we of course know he’ll ultimately pull through, he’s one of the main protagonists of the show after all, but what if we get another sort of fakeout in the form of him temporarily actually dying

CanadianSMG3 ran that idea by chat, and after some thinking I got the idea to continue the similarities to Lars’ death in Steven Universe through this concept.

In the SU scene, Lars is killed when knocked against a rock after an explosion, similar to how 4 hit the wall and was knocked out after the same circumstances.

When reached by those around them after, one of them listens ear-to chest for a pulse;

The only difference being: with 4, a weak pulse was still there, but with Lars there was none.

However, shortly after, Lars is incidentally revived by Steven’s healing powers.

So if this were to happen with 4 in the case he flatlined, what would be the factor in its place that would bring him back?

His cosmic connection with 3.

Universal pairs of guardians canonically have cosmic links to each other, being able to sense when the other is in distress and their powers being boosted when together, particularly when holding hands.

We’re all on the edge of our seats wondering how 3 will react to all of this; for all we know his guardian senses suddenly went off like crazy and he’s freaking out, wondering what’s going on with his other half.

3 often acts like an ass to preserve his anti-hero demeanor, but when things get serious involving 4’s safety he’s shown to drop that act. In IGBP, he ran back for 4 without a second thought when the eldritch goo pulled him back in, and fought back when 4 told him to leave him behind as the castle crumbled around them. In Puzzle Park, when he realized everyone there was in danger, his first instinct was to find 4 & Mario, warning them to run.

So here’s how a scene like this could go: Mario gets 4 to the hospital, with 3 meeting up with him somewhere in that process; sometime after getting there 4 goes into arrest, and suddenly flatlines. Mario and 3 are understandably devastated, with 3 crying as he tightly holds his hand; then, the hand holding and strong emotions sparks a surge in meme energy, which ultimately jumpstarts 4’s life force and brings him back to them. (This of course has high potential for ship material, but inclusion that would just be a bonus)

It would also be a way to get 3 involved in the story after being shown to not care when it was just Karen that was upset. I imagine 4 will want to get back out there to help when he comes back around, so 3 will just order him to rest and go help Karen in his place.

~

But that’s just a crazy theory. Next week needs to get here already I’m going insane and it’s been one day-