#this ended up being longer than first intended

[msbunnat]

sorry if you’ve been asked this before but how do you interpret Zeus in Greek mythology?

I know you like to keep the details of your comic a secret but can you at least elaborate on your perspective about his canon?

Like me personally, I see Zeus as kind of a force of nature, probably cuz he kind of is. He’s the man made character created in order to further understand that which man did not know, like all the gods. And also like the other gods his actions are hard to rationalize cuz they’re so dam inconsistent. One moment he’s treating women as disposable then the next he’s giving Hestia the respect and permission to never marry without any question.

sorry for the Yap sesh lol, love ur art and ur comic btw!

I think this is the first time someone has asked this and I am very happy to answer!

*THIS IS TO BIG SORRY!! ;-;

First, I need to make it clear that the Zeus of ancient myths and my Zeus will be different, even though its based on mythology. I am just contributing with my two cents to this range of fanfics that have existed since ancient times.

I truly believe that all the myths we love and explore are basically fanfics based on a religion and that people in the past used them to spread knowledge, comedies, tragedies and just to have fun while keeping the image of their gods alive. That is why the gods are so inconsistent in mythology, since we have many variations even of a single myth and it will always depend on who is telling the story (I wish it were easier to make fics like this about my religion, but I am afraid of the reaction of extremists).

I interpret Zeus in mythology like all the other gods, I no longer make a distinction based on the prejudice of him being a compulsive pervert, he has many sides. As all gods re natural forces, natural as in animal and plants, but also human feelings and urges.

Zeus has some basic pillars that myths tend to respect: He is THE father, he is the fairest one, he is the executioner, he is seductive, he is good-humored (sometimes he makes some bad jokes kkkkkk), he defends natural balance more than anything and he respects the will of others (this seems ironic, but calm down!!). After reading more myths about him and different interpretations, I understood that this modern view of him as a player is completely distorted and ignores all the other myths he participates (I understand that it became his joke, but… some people take it to seriously). So I started to form my own view of his myths.

Most of his adulteries are consensual and when they are not, they remain in that confusing area of ​​what was once consensual, since it is always mentioned that he seduces (for example, how he turned into an bull or a shower of gold because he knew that his potential partners really liked those things - and I find it hilarious that it seems like he didn't even intend to get Danae pregnant kkkkkk, but it ended up happening). This doesn't mean we can't understand that some of these seductions are abusive (like taking the form of a husband to have a night with Persephone or Alcmena), but saying that he discarded them doesn't seem right either. He often protected his lovers and bastards in the most intelligent way possible and sometimes he just walked away too for the good of others. And in a way, as the father and lord of the sky, he is always watching. I also hate how we take away any woman agency when it comes to Zeus, like, there re myths that they wanted a casual nigth with a god... stop ignoring that!! (the bad thing is that Zeus is also a pilar for fertility ;w; so if he sleep with someone with a uterus... they will get pregnant).

Going to the non-literal side, we have to remember that Zeus is a god and his adultery should not be seen as the same as that of mortal men. He cant acuatlly be with a mortal on the mortal realm and be a husband there... I also want to say: Hera wasn't that jealousy (I think she herself knew that Zeus needed to spread his blood/goodness in the world - yes, a strong interpretation is that Zeus' affairs are a metaphor for spreading goodness). On the contrary, she respected the bastards who faced their challenges and thus deserved to be close to them on Olympus. Hera tested the heroes for two reasons: So they understood that she and Zeus were in charge (so that no one would think they could usurp the throne, and she protected both her and Zeus, as well as Zeus do his best to also prevent the bastards to die and have some help - both Zeus and Hera do all this from a distance, they want to be fair with eachother) and to see if they deserved to be with the immortals.

It seems ironic today, but Zeus respected everyone's will, but it was in the Greek terms (more of in atenians terms, bc we don't have much of the other states). He accepted the decisions of Hestia, Athena, Artemis… I don't remember seeing him laying a finger on them or wanting them to get married. On the other hand, we have versions of him as father of Persephone, 'selling' her (but the myth was about an arranged marriage and I think it makes sense that it's Zeus, since the focus ends up being Demeter's suffering and this encompasses more complex feelings when losing her daughter because her 'husband' gave her away, while he is still respected and loved socially).

Now the bad side of Zeus in how fair he is. He punishes Apollo in some situations, even though I understand why he needed to do it… But he is not shallow enough to be evil for the sake of evil… It left a impression on me when he killed Asclepius and hurt Apollo (obviously), it is sad and I doubt he enjoyed killing his grandson, but if he didn't do it… the balance of the cycle of death would collapse and he is the one who sustains this cycle with the greatest respect. In fact, my theory is that he doesn't face Nyx, not because he fears her, but because no matter who wins the fight, the world will end (if Nyx dies, the night and everything that comes from the night, for the Greeks like sleep and death, will be disturbed / if Zeus dies the throne will be empty and no other god would do what he does, maybe Athena, but the world was too sexist back then to let her become sovereign and I also think she would be colder than Zeus when making decisions and would have no descendants…). But sometimes he just wanted to prank and have fun! So like, no straight answer here.

In the case of Ganymede, I believe that his myth is more one of those in which Zeus is merely a narrative tool, more than an active role. People just started shipping them and that's when the pederasty boom happened, but before that Ganymede was just a boy who was handsome and got a 'dream job' (poor thing…).

[beevean]

I'm sorry, but this argument hinges on some incorrect assumptions

the symbolism of him literally throwing away a picture of his family just seems… Like the opposite of what made this character appealing in the first place?

Why? The symbolism seems clear to me. Shadow spent the entirety of his game trying to remember who he was: because of this, multiple parties were able to pull him on their sides, taking advantage more or less intentionally of his vulnerability. Come the Last Story, and Gerald's message to him, and he decides that he will move forward.

Throwing away that picture symbolized that. Not that he would forget them. Just that from then on, he would Never Turn Back.

Because without context, this can be read as "Shadow is made appealing by his attachment to Maria and nothing else".

Sega begins to pretend that Team Dark aren't even friends in their mandates for a while (despite the fact they clearly care for each others' wellbeing before anybody else's). Shadow becomes practically a popsicle stick puppet for "angry, serious, violent rival", and they never feel a need to explain his motivations or reactions beyond waving at that four word character description again.

No, no, no no no. If you're using Sonic Boom as your example, it's not canon and everyone is a parody of themselves - I'm not going to pretend Boom Shadow is particularly charming, but he is literally a different character than mainline Shadow. If you're using IDW as your example, Ian Flynn straight up doesn't understand the character.

What about Forces? A game that is very much canon, whose DLC is entirely focused on Shadow, where he has good banter with Rouge and Omega and he's shown to care about them (ex: the way he says "Tell me what you did to Omega" when Infinite boasts about defeating him), which is why Infinite uses them to torment him in his illusion - a more interesting idea than the fandom's first assumption that he used Maria's memory to break him?

You (general) may not like the game, or even its main story, but its portrayal of Shadow has nothing wrong with it if not that he's marginal.

(Someone who nearly lets the world be destroyed as revenge for losing his family is the exact opposite of someone who doesn't care!)

Gerald brainwashed him to do so.

He tampered with Shadow's memories so that he wouldn't remember Maria's final words, and therefore assume she wanted revenge for being killed.

It's not a coincidence that in ShTH, you player need to push Shadow to his utmost evil, and make him commit at least one war crime, for him to return to his "destroy the damn planet" mentality - and before G.U.N. Fortress, he remembers Gerald for the first time in the game. Just like he remembers Maria if you go for the Pure Hero ending! The parallel is intentional! Gerald is the reason Shadow went on a rampage in SA2! Violent destruction is not part of Shadow's character unless manipulated to do so!

He has finally, WITHOUT GETTING AMNESIA, IN THE CANON TIMELINE, gotten to become the hero Maria wanted him to be.

I'm sorry, I really don't get why amnesia would diminish his accomplishments? Does him killing Devil Doom and saving the Earth from the Black Comet suddenly not count because he got amnesia beforehand? In fact, one could argue that it makes him even more honorable!

This is the one big difference between Shadow in the Pure Hero-Hero ending and the Last Story. In the former, his only motivation is implied to be honoring Maria's wish ("I made a promise that I intend to keep!"), and you can tell by how many paths reference her and Shadow's promise to her in their name: For Love's Sake, Maria's Testament, The One Who Maria Entrusted, etc.. But in the Last Story, while he still intends to keep that promise, Maria is no longer his only morality compass: he can do the right thing because, well, it's the right thing to do. Just because he didn't mention Maria in '06, the assumption to make wasn't that he had forgot about her: he just became more of his own person.

That doesn't mean his story's over: I'm sure they can still find adventures to send him on.

It would have been nice to do so for this game meant to hype up Shadow, instead of this weird Shadow the Hedgehog 2: Time Travel edition.

Iizuka bluntly admitted that SXSG was nothing more than an advertisement for the movie. And I get it. Movie 3 is about to come out, and kids will want to learn who this cool black hedgehog is: there you go, just buy the abridged version of his arc, instead of experiencing these older games (as if playthroughs didn't exist)! But as a long-time fan, who has been here since 2004, this game just feels redundant to me. Shadow has to defeat Black Doom who wants to use him as a soldier... again. Shadow has to experience Maria and her death... again (he did so in The Doom and Lost Impact too, and those levels also fleshed her out as a character and gave insight on how they lived before the raid. Oh, speaking of which, The Doom as a concept showed more of Black Doom's powers and manipulative cunning than anything in SXSG). Shadow has to confront his past and his genetic ties with Black Doom... again ("Your alien biology doesn't matter!" repeats everyone in the game where the main gimmick is using Shadow's new cool alien biology and can only defeat his father with the biology that allegedly doesn't matter). Shadow sheds a tear for Maria before going and honoring her wish... again.

I've seen this. I've played Adventure 2, I've played Heroes, I've played ShTH, I've played Battle <- another canon game that deals with Shadow post-character development and does it masterfully, but I guess it's too obscure to be appreciated. If Shadow can be his own character and not just the guy who is sad because his friend died, can we please move on? Forces did it, and while again Shadow's role was admittedly minor, he was perfectly fine in that game! More of that, of Shadow doing his own thing and intersecting with Sonic while bantering with Rouge and Omega!

The only new thing in SXSG was that Shadow briefly contemplates freezing Maria and Gerald in time so that he wouldn't have to leave them again, and has to be told by Maria herself to not do that. At this point in his development, he really should be able to make the decision to let them go unprompted.

So yeah, SXSG did give Shadow a conclusion. For the fourth time. He's spinning his wheels by this point. This game is just an ad for newcomers, but it adds nothing new of substance, and it only further cements the idea that Shadow is not interesting if he doesn't angst about Maria. Hell, Team Dark doesn't even get much relevance in the game - you need to go out of your way to talk to Omega. The focus is very obviously not their present friendship, but Shadow's past and biology, again.

(Spoilers for Shadow Generations)

I think what I appreciate most about Shadow Generations is just that it gives Shadow ACTUAL, CANON closure for his struggle between good and evil.

By the end of Adventure 2, he remembered his promise to Maria and made his choice to save the world, but then he "dies".

When Heroes revives him, he doesn't remember any of that.

His namesake game (and I say this as gently as possible), as cool as the multiple endings were, feels so unsatisfying. We get to see Shadow's potential for good and evil, sure, but then the true canon ending comes, and it doesn't specify what he did (or even what exactly he remembered about his past) to get there, and then he just decides not to let his past control him. Which isn't a terrible direction on paper, but the symbolism of him literally throwing away a picture of his family just seems... Like the opposite of what made this character appealing in the first place?

And from there, the games kept giving mixed signals. Sonic '06 shows how deeply he and Team Dark come to care for each other, but then its events get literally removed from the timeline. Sega begins to pretend that Team Dark aren't even friends in their mandates for a while (despite the fact they clearly care for each others' wellbeing before anybody else's). Shadow becomes practically a popsicle stick puppet for "angry, serious, violent rival", and they never feel a need to explain his motivations or reactions beyond waving at that four word character description again.

Shadow's appeal (at least to me) was never that he was a character who didn't care about anything - it was that he cared very deeply, actually. (Someone who nearly lets the world be destroyed as revenge for losing his family is the exact opposite of someone who doesn't care!) He may not be cheerful, he may be quiet and stern, he may have a temper and be capable of terrible things if he isn't careful, but he isn't heartless.

And Shadow Generations FINALLY got it right, I feel.

There's now no doubt that he remembers his past, and that it did matter to him. It still does, in fact, and we're dropping the idea that he'll move on from it like it never happened. That's not how tragedy works.

But he will be able to move forward.

He has finally, WITHOUT GETTING AMNESIA, IN THE CANON TIMELINE, gotten to become the hero Maria wanted him to be.

That doesn't mean his story's over: I'm sure they can still find adventures to send him on. And that doesn't mean he needs any kind of complete personality overhaul, either. He can still be more aggressive than Team Sonic, and more stern, and maybe even more willing to resort to questionable methods to fight next week's bad guy.

But all of Team Dark has gotten to acknowledge that they do, in fact, care for each other, even if their attitudes aren't as chummy as Team Sonic.

Shadow has gotten to hear from his family that they are proud of him, weird alien DNA and all, and that even though he will have to go the rest of his long life without them, their love will always go with him, and give him the strength he needs to overcome any of his darker parts.

Shadow having a darker edge than Sonic and Shadow being a hero are things that can and SHOULD coexist, and I'm so glad we finally got to see it for him without it getting wiped from canon or his own memories again.

[farshootergotme]

I get emotional thinking about how his family would react to Bruce's change if he ever started working on himself, on improving his behavior. But the one I think about the most is Dick Grayson.

Alfred is the one who was there from the very beginning, but Dick Grayson is who arrived and made the biggest impact. He's the first kid who Bruce took in, the one who approached this man and became his first partner to fight by his side out in the night.

Dick was able to pull Bruce out of the darkness that consumed him. No matter how many times Bruce went back, Dick's presence was a constant reminder that there's not only shadows. That if Bruce pushes back, fights so he won't be dragged down, he will find light.

However, it was a cycle. Dick would get him out, but Bruce would go back, sooner or later. And repeat. And Dick realized this and knew he couldn't let that be his whole life. But despite the distance, it still affects Dick knowing he can't find a definite solution for Bruce.

So, seeing Bruce actually change, get better and seeing that last...it would lift the heaviest weight on Dick's shoulders, who's felt responsible for Bruce's emotions since the day he became Robin.

It's been implied to him that Bruce needs him, that he's who keeps him from falling. And Dick, despite not always feeling like he is enough, carries with that responsibility because, deep down, he also feels like he owes it to Bruce, who Dick has needed (still needs) present in his life, too.

Bruce getting better would be like being able to breath again, but it would be so suffocating too.

Dick would happy for Bruce, for the man who raised him. He'd be relieved that the hurt will stop, for both his father and those he's continuously pushed away. But then he'll be anxious, will it really last? How long until he can be sure? And he'll be scared, does he still need him, now? Does a Batman who's gotten help still need Dick Grayson Robin? Nightwing? And lurking in the back of his mind, there'd be anger. Why now? Why after all those years? Why not before? Was Dick not enough reason to change? Was he never worth this? And shame will drown those thoughts. It's selfish, to think that way. He should be happy. He wants to be happy. He is happy. But he is also mad. He's sad and he mourns the child who never saw this side of Bruce. And most of all, he loves. He loves Bruce too much to hate him for it. No matter how angry, no matter how hurt, he loves his father and he's grateful for him, for his efforts. And all he can do is smile and congratulate him because that's everything he feels he has the right to say.

And when all is said and done, Bruce will come to him and Dick will have to face the worst part of this change;

Apologies.

If Bruce has truly changed, then he would know there's more things than he can count with his fingers that he has to apologize to his son for. And out of everything else, this is what Dick Grayson fears the most.

Dick can take it, he can hear Bruce out, but he can't unpack all the pain he's been accumulating in front of his dad. He can't bring himself to say 'I forgive you' out loud despite having convinced himself long ago that it's alright.

Bruce doesn't didn't do apologies. Things happened and then went back to normal and Dick was okay with that. He forgave him, he did. So, Bruce doesn't need to apologize, he doesn't have to make him say it out loud. He can't tell him, but he's forgiven him long ago. Even if it hurt, even if he was still resentful sometimes, even if he wanted to yell at him for it, Dick could push it all down and forgive him. Bruce shouldn't apologize, shouldn't bring it up again because Dick isn't strong enough to keep it all bottled up if Bruce starts acknowledging it, if he confirms that Dick wasn't crazy for feeling wronged and hurt.

He can take it, but he really can't.

Just thinking about it drives me crazy because, out of everyone, Dick Grayson might be the kid who's been waiting for this the longest, and who thought he'd already given up the idea of his father finding a lasting happiness that would bring permanent change in him. And it would be just so overwhelming.

[monkee-mobile]

I feel like older mike, show-verse, like mid 70s through the 90s and beyond is always stretched out on the couch or on the bed. he takes up reading and plays his guitar and enjoys relaxing because for once in his life he’s calm and secure where he is.

and sometimes one of the boys will crash there with him but davy and micky have a big habit of going to flop down on a bed with shoes on so mike has to scold them and make them take their shoes off because these are white sheets and we don’t need to take another trip to the laundromat (micky’s christmas present to all of them one year is a home washer and dryer set because the boys have always had a tendency to make a mess of stuff and, as much as they love their friend april, having to trek out just to wash stuff becomes a lot) (don’t worry, april was consulted on the choice of a washing machine so mick brought home a good one… though there have been a few Mr. Mom type incidents of something overflowing but they’ve gotten through it)

Peter tends to wear mocassins and more around-the-house type footwear over boots or tennis shoes or whatever and mike hates scolding peter so pete tends to get a pass and can cuddle with mike whenever he wants and doesn’t have to grumble and remove any items of clothing first. Micky gets it and relents, but davy is pretty pissy about it and puts up a fight just for the sake of it but mike reminds him it’s quicker to just take off your boots than to sit here and fight so davy tends to just deal with it and gets his mike time because he’s a koala baby and never leaves mikes side once he’s got him.

mike is also very warm, especially when he’s been relaxing under blankets and things, so the snuggles from him are particularly good. He’s also become less of an angular beanpole so he’s more comfortable to sit with than in some previous years.

[plusfriesplease]

*Kinda has spoilers for Xenoblade Chronicles 3 and Omniscient Reader*

Xenoblade chronicles 3 au with Joongdok, Sangsoo, and Hyunhee as ouroboros pairs and the Constellations as Mobius

Kim Dokja, Han Sooyoung, and Jung Heewon are Kevesi. Yoo Joonghyuk, Yoo Sangah, and Lee Hyusung are Agnian. (I was gonna put Yoo Sangah in Keves so the Agnians are those from TWSA/WOS but I wanted to put Han Sooyoung in Eunie’s role and be a trio with Kim Dokja and Jung Heewon)

Joongdok as Noah and Mio

Sangsoo as Eunie and Taion

Hyunhee (or whatever the ship name between Lee Hyunsung and Jung Heewon is) as Lans and Sena

I don’t have a set role for Shin Yoosung and Lee Gilyoung but they are either kids from the City or very young soldiers from Agnus and Keves

Lee Jihye and Kim Namwoon are both 6th termers from Agnus

Secretive Plotter and Oldest Dream (an adult OD) take the roles of N and M. (I wanna see Secretive Plotter be in pain like N at the beginning of Chapter 6)

Biyoo is Secretive Plotter and Oldest Dream’s kid

[jonsnowunemploymentera]

I see your point, esp in regards to how GRRM sometimes unsuccessfully blends various historical elements when world building. With the aspect of ruling, he wants to tackle these issues not in the appendices of ADoS or extra-textual works. He wants to give a careful exploration as the story unfolds in the main story that the entire fanbase will read. Who ever reads the appendices? I mean how many people have even read The World of Ice and Fire in this fandom?

GRRM explores these things with Jon, based on my response to the screenshot in the first place, from ACoK up to ADWD; and presumably in TWoW and ADoS. He wants to actually show how Jon, his answer to Aragorn, evolves as a ruler before the story is done. How he succeeds, fails, succeeds again. So if Jon ends up in a position as a ruler, if he even survives the story in the first place, he as a writer will be satisfied with how he got there. It’s a personal thing for him—not a slight against Tolkien. I’m not too fussed about Rhaenyra and the events in F&B because he doesn’t really mention them when talking about “the tax policy”, and F&B has received enough lashings over the years for being his worst installment in the saga of Ice and Fire. It’s certainly not as well written as the main series for a start.

You bring up an important distinction with:

The fact that there's no longer a dark lord trying to conquer their lands suggests that this will be the case, since the kingdom's weakness was exacerbated by the threat of Mordor.

ASOIAF is more involved, since the political theatre has been evolving outside the magical threat so far. Defeating the Others won’t really settle the political matters as they’ve transformed over the series. GRRM doesn’t seem to think that he can give us a satisfactory resolution to what has occupied the biggest narrative space this far in the last few pages of ADoS. Now this series is incomplete, so we don’t really know what the climax will be. It certainly gets complicated when we factor in Bran as the intended final ruler, because he has nowhere near the level of experience that Jon and Dany have.

And re

It's not a sore point for me, it's the way the fandom acts as if Jon was making the right choices (the show certainly did so) when all it takes is a closer examination to realize how poorly he's governing.

Really? Because it’s usually Jon fans (specifically) trying to make a defense of his ADWD arc. The fandom at large seems to think he would be a terrible king and that he did a bad job as Lord Commander; this is no doubt exacerbated by the Meereenese Blot essays which have permeated fandom discussion over the last decade or so.

George's problem is that he ignores all of this and winds up making Tolkien out to be a less serious writer than he actually was.

Tbh, GRRM won’t stop gushing about the impact Tolkien has had on him as both as reader and writer of fantasy. But the problem is that a lot of things are projected over his relationship with his predecessor’s works. It’s like when you see a ton of articles saying “meet George R. R. Martin, the anti-Tolkien”….when GRRM himself has said that he wants to make ASOIAF the same level of low fantasy that LOTR was, and that he wants to explore the same themes LOTR did but in his own way. It is not so much that GRRM sets out to make Tolkien look bad on purpose, it’s that people are reading into his minor quibble with the quote. It’s the same thing with his opinion on Gandalf’s resurrection. He gets a lot of flack for it, and I’m not going to add to the dog piling. At the end of the day, he really should be allowed to have an opinion of a work he clearly cherishes.

This is actually so funny because….isn’t this literally the point of Jon’s political arc as a ruler in ADWD? 😭 What policies can he enact to ensure that the Watch and the wildlings are fed through the winter? The question even comes up during Alys Karstark’s wedding, because Jon knows that the Watch is down to its last sticks of butter. This is the same arc GRRM uses, along with Dany’s in Meereen, as a reference of how he would like to explore this very question. Btw Jon Snow is arguably Aragorn’s closest parallel in ASOIAF so 😭

[ofpd]

there's this tape my grandmother recorded not long before she died and in it she addressed each of her children (who were young children at the time) and i've listened to this tape many times over the years and i remember that there's a lot of meaningful things on it but the one thing that always stands out in my memory is when she says to my dad “you're the smartest little boy i ever knew, but i'd love you even if you were stupid”

[valleydoli]

𐙚 Ao3 Fics I’ve read and love 𐙚

𐙚 infidelity by @tawus (completed)

gojo x fem reader

Your marriage to Gojo Satoru lost its initial excitement, since your husband spent all his time either at Jujutsu Tech or on exorcism missions across the world. To ease your loneliness, you picked up your favorite pastime from your student years — clubbing — behind his back. Too bad that on Satoru’s most recent mission he spots his wife dancing in a nightclub with a bunch of guys in the skimpiest dress he has ever seen on her…

𐙚 desert rose by @sadistic-kiss (on going)

all jjk men x fem reader 😭

Toji Fushiguro finds you during one of his hitman jobs. With no idea what to do with you he decides to bring you home to his house of misfits. They weren’t picture perfect but neither were you.

𐙚 mascara by @/softstellars (on going)

geto x fem reader

You've never been a particularly good person, you're self-aware enough to know it. It's your only flaw, and recently you've actually been working to better yourself. For example: paying for a 30-dollar Uber so you can take your friend home only for her to ditch you for some guy when it comes down to it. Although you’re pissed, you decide to try and make the best of it instead of get into a screaming match with her. It's an easy thing to do when Getou Suguru is offering you everything to do just that. Everything a party entails: liquor, weed, and sex with a perfect stranger. And Getou knows perfectly well you have a boyfriend, so it's not like he'll want anything serious.

𐙚 a pearl by @lemonlover1110 (completed and posted on tumblr!)

toji x fem reader

The Fushiguros needed a nanny, and the pay was too good to not apply, especially since your family needed financial help. You were the perfect nanny for the kids, they loved you as if you were their own mother. Slowly, you built up the perfect relationship with the family. Especially with Mr. Fushiguro. A man who would constantly visit you after dark. A man who you thought had sincere intentions but at the end of the day didn't care about you. A selfish man who just saw you as a tool to make his wife mad. A man who didn't care about you but didn't want you with anyone else. A man that took away your ability to know what a healthy relationship was. You couldn't speak up about it since all the fault would fall at your feet and would be deemed as the "homewrecker".

𐙚 you, my angel and my saint by @lemonlover1110 (completed and posted on tumblr!)

toji x fem reader

sequel to a pearl!

After having an affair with your boss, you're left to deal with the consequences, those being: two exhausting new jobs and a child. A child that he never got to know the existence of. Now all you had to do was keep her hidden, which should be an easy task, right?

𐙚 rings by @/bungeemum (on going)

toji x fem reader

you divorced the man in front of you for a reason. so why was he standing on your doorstep, guilt plastered on his face, and eyes glinting with hope?

𐙚 a dangerous game by @/anaoyuo (completed)

gojo x fem reader

geto x fem reader

Both men agreed to a game about who fucks you first, but they didn't play their cards right. Gojo and Geto changed the course of the game when they decided to keep you around for way longer than intended, making you fall for their sweet way to deprave you, and now you have to face the consequences in a gamble that they call their life.

𐙚 fate’s gamble by @/anaoyuo (on going)

gojo x fem reader

geto x fem reader

sequel to a dangerous game

缘分— a story about predestined affinity, set in a world where the intoxicating thrills of wealth intertwine with amorality.

𐙚 him & i by @pharixden (on going)

gojo x fem reader

toji x fem reader

sukuna x fem reader

A cheating husband, a widowed bodyguard and a malevolent fling of the past who owes a favour isn’t a combination for the faint of heart, but not every girl is a damsel in distress.

𐙚 changes by @lemonlover1110 (on going also on tumblr!)

gojo x fem reader

From childhood friends to lovers to mere strangers. Your love story with Satoru Gojo was one from a fairy tail, until it wasn't. When you were twenty-one, Satoru left you without an explanation. Five years later, you meet again but nothing is quite the same. Too many things need to be explained, especially the fact that there's another Gojo that Satoru has yet to meet.

𐙚 the man in apartment 381 by @lemonlover1110 (completed also on tumblr!)

toji x fem reader

Looking for a new beginning after the death of your husband, you move away from town. That's when you meet him, Toji Fushiguro, a widower with a three-year-old son. You two understand each other, which draws you close. Except you two don't realize that feelings would eventually develop, and neither of you want that. Feelings are the last thing you two want after finding out the great damage that they can cause. When you two discover this, it's too late.

𐙚 4th avenue viewing by @/softstellars (completed)

nanami x fem reader

Nanami Kento is intelligent, serious, reserved and can easily catch someone in a lie. It's his job to do just that, he's renowned for it. So when he comes to your university to offer up an internship, it's quite the opportunity. Anyone would jump at the chance, except for you. But no, you just had to be the one caught in a lie.

𐙚 forgotten souls by @/killerpoultry & @/bebobopobo (completed)

sukuna x fem reader

You and Sukuna have been married for years. Even though he is brash, mean, and sadistic, you love him more than anything. While he may not show it much, he truly loves you too. One day you get into a terrible car accident and lose all your memories. You learn to live once more while Sukuna must now get you to fall in love with him all over again.

𐙚 love kills by @/sourome (on going)

i actually don’t know 😭 i think toji x fem reader

The wealthy and successful Zenin family, well respected and seemingly perfect. But all that glitters is not gold. Toji Zenin, CEO and face of the Zenin Group acts like a gentleman but is a vile creature that has ruined many lives, such as yours. That married man dared to play with your mother’s heart many years ago, destroying her sanity and her life and ultimately killing her. Now years later and being all grown up you decide to seek revenge, he deserves to suffer that same destiny and die of love. With the help of a few friends you plan to become a part of his life and his every thought but you didn't take into account his son, that man had the potential to turn your plans upside down.

𐙚 the black swan by @uselesslydamaged (completed)

sukuna x fem reader

Loving someone is easy, but experiencing it is harder.

𐙚 bodyguard by @/succybuss (on going)

toji x fem reader

Your Grandfather, a man involved in unsavory businesses that has taken you under his wing, has informed you that you will be under the care of a full-time Bodyguard. Unhappy with your grandfather's decision, you decide to go out for a night of drinking for your last night of freedom. There, you encounter a man you planned on taking home, but life had other plans in store for you...

𐙚 violet lights by @septembersummer (completed)

gojo x fem reader

In which you're at a party that you should've skipped when you capture the attention of a boy who looks like an angel and grins like the devil. He looks beautiful in the neon lights, and maybe you just want to make your ex-boyfriend jealous, but trouble with a tongue ring does sound like fun, just for tonight. What's the worst that could happen, you know?

𐙚 starboy by @septembersummer (completed)

gojo x fem reader

sequel to violet lights

After your ex-boyfriend gets arrested on national television, you find yourself realizing that you really didn’t know much at all about Gojo Satoru. Well, he’s better known in the Yakuza as The Six Eyes, not that he ever told you that.

𐙚 sweet little lies by @/mooglepaws (on going)

toji x fem reader

Megumi Fushiguro is the perfect Fiancé. Caring, loyal, successful, devastatingly handsome and crazy in love with you. So how and why do you end up fucking his Dad? As your wedding looms and the consequences of your affair unfold, you have to make a choice between the Fushiguro men.

This is a Toji x Reader x Megumi but the smut is almost exclusively Toji x Reader focusing on their affair.

𐙚 the twist of a knife by @darkcat23 (on going)

gojo x fem reader

This world is dull, colourless in your eyes. You are just trying to keep going with your life, not bothering anyone, trying to support your mother and yourself. So what happens when you agree to help your ex one night? And what if you catch the attention of a certain white haired assassin? And he shows you just how colourful this world truly is. or, a story of a girl with a violent mind and a boy with violent tendencies, finding each other, intertwining, and feeding off one another. perhaps it is fate that has brought them together. or perhaps it's something more sinister, something more cold.

𐙚 untameable waves by @/circedemedici

(unknown i guess hopefully i can let you know)

has been taken down i dont know if it’ll come back but if it does i’ll link it! but i’m leaving it here because it was most definitely my favourite :(

please let me know any other fics you’ve read because i love reading fics with a LOT of plot and also let me know if you end up reading any and you enjoy them as much as i did! :3

i think i used every tag known to man LOL 𐙚

[lockheed-martin-unofficial]

Buckle up, folks, and prepare yourself for spoilers!

Because we’re going to be analyzing this scene today. And I’m going to explain why Starscream could’ve won.

After D-16’s initial attack, Starscream falls back to recover, and quickly counters with some skilled aerial maneuvers. Here’s a post so you can appreciate it better. Starscream is taking full advantage of his flight ability here. He’s leading the high guard, of course he’s going to be good at flying.

Side note: we don’t know if Starscream is the official leader of the high guard, do we? Maybe he just claimed leadership after they went into exile. It would be fun to think about.

As an extra note: Starscream is using his thrusters to carry both of them, holding D-16 up by the neck.

Extra extra note: D-16 kicks Starscream between the legs.

Now look at this. Here’s when D-16 transforms his foot to kick starscream off.

It all happens in a split second, but I tried my best to get screenshots.

Do you get what I’m trying to show?

Starscream angles his body forward, with the thrusters still on, before D-16 makes contact with him. He sees the kick coming, and he moves to counter it. When he realises he’s not fast enough to counter, he lets go of right D-16 before the impact in order to make sure he’s flung backwards instead of being injured. If he was still holding on, the damage would’ve been far more severe.

Sure, I find it a little surprising that a guy who can fly would fall in his butt, but I think I can explain it away. The thrusters are turned off when he’s kicked, but they return while he’s flying away. I think that may have been accidental. Maybe he intended to right himself midair and fly away but was unsuccessful, maybe he didn’t mean to activate them.

Either way, it contributes to him landing rougher than he would’ve intended. While I’m here, I want to point out D-16’s little swing off the wall to land next to Starscream. Very graceful.

Right before and right after getting punched in the face. There is momentary surprise, but no fear. He doesn’t flinch, he doesn’t take time to recover. One second of scowling, and then “HIT ME!” He doesn’t even need to catch his breath.

Slowing the scene you can see the punches have Starscream’s neck bent at an over 90 degree angle. Not only does he not react to the pain at all, but he also KEEPS ENCOURAGING HIS OPPONENT.

His body language and behavior is confident while he’s being punched. Only when D-16 turns his attention to the crowd does Starscream attempt to free himself.

He’s intentionally antagonizing his opponent, making D-16 drop his guard and focus on giving the crowd a show, he takes the punches like they’re nothing and only tries to break free when D-16 looks away.

Focus on Starscream’s hands here. D-16 loses his focus, Starscream is very clearly trying to pry him off.

And here, just a few seconds later. First his hand is just… sitting there, not making any attempt to pry off the guy squeezing his throat (presumably very painful) and instead continuing to yell (presumably very painful). And then he Grabs and Pulls Him Closer. This isn’t the body language of a person who’s afraid, Starscream was biding his time and waiting for the opportunity to catch D-16 off guard, use a sudden moment of distraction to his advantage.

We only see fear from him at the very end. Only when he sees the arm cannon which is something nobody expected. Not even D-16 himself. From Starscream’s perspective he was waiting for the perfect moment to strike, to overpower an enemy who is stronger but less skilled and experienced than him, all the while giving the troops a good show. And then the guy pulls out THAT THING to his face.

You can see the moment he knew he fucked up. There’s nothing he can do after that except ask for mercy.

It’s my personal belief that had the battle lasted longer, and had D-16 not discovered his Murder Arm, Starscream would’ve won.

And although I’m not disappointed in this outcome, I would’ve also loved if D-16 had the upper hand physically but still got defeated due to Starscream’s cunning and experience. We would’ve seen Starscream show his talent, and seen that D-16 still has a long way to go.

[mellowwillowy]

"Stop the wedding!!"

So you get to see NRC food fighting RSA in the end lol Yan! NRC vs Yan! RSA x GN Isekai'd Player (Self-aware)

All the people inside the cafeteria turned their attention to you, an isekai'd player.

"(Name)!!" Idia beamed in tears, finally someone saving him! ... wait, someone? Oh no no no no! You are not just 'someone'!! Why did he even bother troubling you to this extent? He should have just kissed the bride!!!

"Make it right in time, you got me, Ace?" "Thank you for kicking me like a barrel toward the ghosts, pal," Ace replied dejectedly but posed no annoyance at all.

"Potato, since when do you have the funds to get yourself such a nice suit?" Vil questioned as he inspected your overall. The makeup and hairdo were not done to the utmost perfection but he can let it slide because anything on you equals absolute beauty.

"Oh, this? So you are smart enough to realize Crowley won't cover MY suit! I mean, he was trying teeth and nails to not let me join Ace and Co!"

"At least he does something right for the first time," Leona added. "White suits you though I thought you'd surely go with Black as usual?" Trey cocked his head to the side questioningly.

"Look, this is what Neige lent me. And all his attires are almost pristine white! I'm telling ya'!" At that statement, you saw Vil twitch despite not being able to move, he must have been very pissed at the mention of Neige's name alone.

"Originally I planned on taking Cheny'a's but I realized how eccentric his taste is so I decided to go with Neige. The RSA students are kind enough to assist Neige in tailoring it to my size too! Got them right in time before Crowley could shoo me!"

"Dude, even the RSA knows how to respect them, I don't know if I should be angry or nah but it certainly leaves a bad aftertaste seeing them wearing what RSA makes for them." Cater whispers something to the person next to him, inaudible to your ears.

"What do you say if we steal the suit and then burn it down in front of them after we are done here? I'd like to give them a nice thank you hug too while we are at it." "And we should leave them some of my... flowers collection too. This alone should be enough to show our gratitude right?"

"I'd say we should try giving them a proper form of token of gratitude too, how about Master Lilia's cooking?" Sebek added with a grin, he had his fair share of Lilia's cooking to the point he'd like to share it with the others.

"Oh? Then I'd have to make sure to add extra 'love' into it." He replied, this time intending to poison people so its horrifying taste was multiplied at natural without him realizing it.

"Wait, why would we even bother giving them a handmade cooki-" Jack was immediately silenced by Cater's eerie smile. He had his fair share and he knew they meant nothing well from it at all.

"Hey Ace, do something! Stop throwing all your work on prefect!" Deuce yelled by the sideline, ready to chew his ears off.

"I agree, you shouldn't let someone magic-less handle this handful situation alone, get a hold of yourself right now will you, Ace?" Azul scowled and started to usher Ace into work.

"Dude! Now all of you are cornering me?" "You haven't finished, Ace?!"

And Riddle's voice was all it took to make Ace cowered like a puppy. Rook shook his head in disappointment, this had taken way longer than the original gameplay.

"Hurry! We should wrap things up as though we are changing a dirty tablecloth into a new one!" Epel yelled out rather... unique lines. Was he trying to be as poetic as Rook? If anything, both Rook and Vil said nothing regarding this.

"Riiiiighhhhtttt, I'm kinda checked out now, to be honest." Idia's eyes immediately widened, not you too?!

Just before the other could chant another "Smooch the bride", you immediately lunged toward the bride. All those gym class training paid off! Basically, this and that until the ghost inflated.

And instead of Rook ordering you and Epel around, you took the steering wheel before anyone could. "Move yer' ass you glorified wood logs! Move move move!"

The lucky person is the person who gets to feel you dragging them. Absolute win!

--

"Urgh, I'm so gonna have phasmophobia now." Idia rolled his eyes as the ghosts departed but to be honest? He was happy to see you barging into the cafeteria like a knight in shining armor for him! (It was mostly the others fighting lol)

Idia was taken by surprise the moment your hand smacked his back. "Would you look at it, the star of the show, a handsome groom adorned in black! You look positively breathtaking, senior Idia."

"Eep-! Oh no, they have graced me with their words that are enough to deafen me! What should I do? How should I show them just how grateful I am to be even considered by them???"

"What did you say? I couldn't hear you really well." "Well, brother said that-" "N-n-no! Nothing! I uh... am thankful... for your assistance." He answered bashfully, his hair tip turned into a shade of pink.

"Now now potato, it's time to change, wearing that must have been uncomfortable right?" Vil immediately pulled you away from the pink introvert. "No...? Neige said that it's meant to be comfortable and it's true!" "Well, we have something even wayyyy more comfortable for you, shrimpy! Come on now, let's take it off and dress you up in something else!"

--

Lilia was leading everyone with a basket of something, a speaker in one hand and Neige's suit in the other hand, "Hey you RSA whippersnappers! Get down!"

The head mage was coincidentally away that day and it allowed the NRC students to lead a protest in front of the academy's gate.

Lilia threw the white suit onto the ground while Leona whistled, signaling Rook to shoot an arrow of fire toward it like an Olympic grand opening. (What a duo.)

"Yeah! Eat this you good for nothing!" Cater and Ruggie immediately took out the pie from Lilia's basket and threw it right onto the students' face. Kalim was generous enough to sponsor lots of baking materials for Lilia with Jamil assisting with the baking. It was badly burnt but still hard as a rock.

Cheny'a was careful enough to avoid Trey and Riddle while Vil was feeling rather generous in feeding Neige~ Oh, and Malleus is always bullseye in his shots, hitting everyone down in no time. He was pretty pissed (sulking) that he was not invited to join your fun. Silver was not being merciful too, he didn't fall asleep at all during this whole thing!.

Rollo was feeling rather grateful but also sad that you did not come to him to ask for his help :( And Crowley just watched everything from the sidelines while praying that nothing bad will be sent to him after this. Well, he's happy with how bright his students are.

[deebris]

The Misteryous Visitor 5

Batfamily x batsis (platonic!)

Synopsis: The argument between Talia and Bruce is catastrophic from beginning to end, and while the whole truth is revealed, neither of them wants to let go of you. Strange was always a greater danger than he let on and was closer than he ever thought.

Warnings: Family discussion; meaningless kiss; aggression; blood; kidnapping; maternal possessiveness;

Word count: 4.5k

Note: Talia has a slightly different relationship with Bruce in my story compared to the canon, being more tense than the impression I got when I watched scenes between the two of them.

I forget to mention that English is not my first language, forgive me for any mistakes.

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 6

"Is it true?" Bruce asked quickly, barely giving Talia time to dare say anything before him. The woman rolled her eyes, still with her back to him, and prepared to maintain her confident pose.

She turned to face him and took a few moments to admire the vision, blatantly diverting her eyes to his lips and seeing how the messy shirt had given him a more fierce and attractive aura. Their relationship was complicated, that's a fact, but she could never stop finding the man in front of her charmingly handsome.

"You'll need to be more specific than that," Talia's voice dripped with a sweet and wicked tone as she walked toward him. Bruce violently stood up from the chair when he saw her hand reach towards him and imposed his height over hers to intimidate.

"Don't play the cynic." There was a suppressed fury in his tone, and she was sure he was using the last bit of self-control that still possessed.

"For heaven's sake, Bruce." Talia mocked, picking up the coat she had intended to grab from the beginning from the chair, having recognized it as yours. She grimaced as felt the damp fabric and dropped it in a corner of the room on the floor. The look she was receiving could burn her skin, and when she turned her face back to his, she realized how disturbed he was. "You look horrible. Strange really got into your head, didn't he?"

Talia saw him narrow his eyes with impatient indignation as he snorted. She found seeing him like this very peculiar and thought it would be fun to try and provoke.

The woman brought her face close to his, making her warm breath touch his chin provocatively while boldly wrapping her arms around the broad neck. She tested the waters, seeing how he remained still, and brushed her red lips along his jawline, then moved up until their mouths shared the same breath.

She was going to try to persuade, convince him that he was overthinking, and smiled inwardly when she saw Bruce become disconcerted for a second, completely unresponsive when she sealed their lips together. She managed to seduce him in that second to the point where, unconsciously, he moved his tongue with hers, but tasting her saliva brought him back to rationality.

He left her in complete shock when abruptly pushed her away and grabbed her face in an aggressive manner, squeezing the cheeks and making her squirm until eyes glazed over into his. “You repulse me.” Bruce spat and was glad to see her bold expression disappear. “Tell me once: she is mine?"

Talia tried to take his hand away with hers, but he seemed implacable, and didn't even move a finger out of place. He might be stronger, but she wasn't weak, and that was what made her let out an astonished sob.

"She is my daughter?!" He shouted, shaking her, no longer able to take the lack of response.

"Yes it is true." The confession made him let go of her finally, and she almost stumbled back with how sudden it was.

She massaged her face, seeking relief, and it didn't take long for her eyebrows to furrow in shock. Bruce felt no pity or regret, she deserved much more than he would ever have the courage to do.

"How?" By the way he looked, she knew there was no more room for lies or evasion. She had never seen him like this; Bruce had always been the most balanced man she had ever known in her entire life.

"She and Damian are twins," Talia responded immediately.

"Twins?" Bruce's voice sounded incredulous. He felt that even all the time in the universe wouldn't be enough to process that. It seemed simply unreal. "Why did you hide this? Why did you tell me about Damian and not about her?"

"Because you would have taken her from me!" She shouted, running her fingers over her face to check if her makeup had smeared. "I handed Damian over to you willingly, but if you had found out about him before, you would have brought him here just the same. And with her, it would be no different. You should be grateful to have had the boy."

"How dare you say such a thing?" Bruce threw the chair to the floor in a fit of rage, making a loud noise that echoed even outside the hallway. "And 'handed Damian over willingly'? You only did that because you felt pressured after your father died." He threw it in her face and suddenly remembered something: "You made that boy lie for you." He accused her.

Talia was silent for a brief moment, but her face showed nothing but contempt. "I did, yes." She admitted.

"What's the point of that? Was it just out of whim?" Bruce seemed fragile before her for the first time in so many years. For a moment, she glimpsed an old argument, from when they were still dating and didn't hide feelings from each other as they do today. "Do you hold that much resentment? You know very well why I dismissed the League of Assassins."

"Of course, Bruce. Your morals are too valuable, aren't they?" Talia replied with her chin up, not letting him affect her. "You think you're a good guy, a pure superhero like Superman. But I know you and I know how rotten you are inside. You are not as different from us as you think." She spewed the words in his face like venom.

"You wanted her to come here, didn't you? You and he planned all this?" Comprehension seemed to have hit Bruce, but that only left the woman confused.

"If it were up to me, you would never have discovered her existence. Why would I send her here?" The confession left him silent, not because he wasn't angry anymore, but because he was tired of hearing her voice; he simply couldn't believe anything Talia said. "She is my daughter. And I don't care what you're going to do now, but don't think you're going to drag her with you like you did with all those boys.”

"You think you can offer something better? You, the same person who left her in the hands of that sicko, consider yourself a better option?" Bruce insinuated this with a firmness that made it clear he had no doubt Talia was cooperating with Strange, making her eyes turn red. She could hear many insults from him, but insinuating that she had put you at risk was something entirely different. "You can be sure you won't lay another finger on her."

She knew Bruce was serious, and that he could actually prevent any future contact betwedn you and her. She wanted to kill him right now out of sheer hatred, but she was smart and knew that acting impulsively wouldn't solve anything. So, reluctantly, she tried to change the tone of the discussion to a neutral one. There was no way she could leave without giving him explanations, and if she tried, he would stop her.

"Maybe Strange had been threatening me for some time, possibly before deciding to appear publicly again and attack you." There was a slight irony of indignation in her words. Her gaze was firm and her green eyes shining with the intensity of someone defending their own honor. "Let it be clear: I didn't help anyone; I was as much a victim of this as you were."

"Victim?" Bruce retorted with disdain.

"This threat wasn't for you, Bruce, it was for me. Today you didn't lose anything, quite the opposite." She ignored the acidic tone and continued. "Maybe this contributed to some kind of psychological game Strange is playing against you, but it must be just a bonus."

"Why is he threatening you?" The question contained no compassion or empathy, but it didn't matter to her to receive that kind of consideration from him.

"What did he do to you?" Talia ignored the question, and as a form of childish revenge, he did the same. She sighed and tried a different approach: "If you tell me, I'll tell you too." She needed to know to try to understand the depth of Strange's current intentions or at least get some clue about the plan he was plotting because although she wouldn't say it to Bruce, she was also trying to catch him.

"A photo of my parents," he confessed, trying to sound indifferent before continuing, "Photos of the boys, of Alfred..." Bruce left the sentence hanging in the air and didn't proceed. He would never say more than he deemed necessary to her.

"Damian too?" She asked, worried about her son, and saw Bruce nod affirmatively. Bruce calmly unwrinkled a card while handing it to her.

"He asked her to deliver this to me today." His tone was serious, revealing a determination to deal with the situation pragmatically and directly.

Talia repeated those printed words several times, and every hair on her body stood on end all at once. "Did she…?"

"She didn't read it." He said curtly. "But what I don't understand is how all this seems so convenient and you claim to have nothing to do with it. He had this card perfectly prepared."

"Knowing him well, he must have been waiting for an opportunity for many days, or he induced this to happen somehow." She reflected, scratching the fine texture with her nails right where the text was printed to the point of making it illegible. "The letter that Damian said she picked up took longer to arrive than the others; it must have ended up with him at some point."

"How could he be so close, and you didn't notice?" His voice became aggressive again, the same beastly rage returning.

"I did notice! I just didn't imagine Strange interested in her; I thought it was about Damian. So, I didn't worry because he wasn't with me; he was with you." She raised her voice, trying to match his volume. "Strange has been sending me coded messages. Threats that had nothing to do with my daughter. I thought he didn't know she was yours and therefore wouldn't care about her." She finished, and Bruce clenched his jaw, observing how she increasingly emphasized the expression "my daughter," excluding him.

"Threats related to Damian?" He asked. His muscles were tense and sore, but he endured the discomfort if it meant clarifying everything once and for all. "And, of course, you never considered telling me."

"This started long before I left him with you, Bruce. They were still children." Talia said, growing increasingly frustrated with the conversation.

"What could Damian have done to him as a child?"

"Damian ended up leaving Strange with one less eye. He was already pursuing him because of you, but after losing an eye, all he wanted was revenge." She walked to the bed, leaning on the arms while crossing her legs. A very characteristic gesture of her behavior, which was highlighted when she wore her extravagant dresses, but the cold pants she wore made the movements relaxed. "He was a child; he didn't do it on purpose. He was just protecting his sister."

"How could Strange have known about Damian for so long and not about her? What you're saying doesn't make any sense, Talia." Bruce was frantic, and after a brief moment of melancholy, she sighed:

"I blame my father for this." Her voice almost wavered in front of him, but being the proud person she was, she quickly composed herself.

“What did Ra’s do?” He threw the question into the air, laden with apprehension.

The room plunged into a disturbing silence. Talia remained motionless, while the sound of Bruce's heavy breathing was the only thing breaking the void in the atmosphere. For a brief moment, her eyes met his and captured the storm of emotions brewing there: betrayal, despair, expectation.

She did not fear him, but rather how he might react to this. You were there, nearby, in the hallway, and the last thing she wanted was for the primal figure Bruce was becoming to explode and expel her, taking you to him. Moreover, she needed to remind herself that she was at a disadvantage there. It wasn't just Bruce she would face if things turned worse or physical, but everyone else in the house.

“What did he do, Talia?” Bruce growled, repeating the question with intensity.

She stared at the floor, fully aware that her next words would turn against her later, but at this point, he needed to know. Strange was out there, and he was still as much of a psychopath obsessed with Batman as before, meaning he wouldn’t rest until he managed to take Bruce’s place as a vigilante. So, with a low but icy voice, she moved her mouth to tell him the truth:

“Years ago, Strange sought out the League of Assassins. That lunatic was always smart and somehow discovered the rift between you and my father.” The mention of such an old event took Bruce by surprise. He slightly recoiled and his eyebrows raised, but he restrained himself from interrupting her. “He wanted the League to help him defeat you and vice versa. My father was suspicious, but he was so resentful that he agreed. Your betrayal was still fresh to us.”

“And of course it went wrong, didn’t it?” He asked with implicit sarcasm.

“Strange was so cunning that he managed to manipulate him to his advantage. He provided us with precise and important information about you, but after a while, he wanted to advise my father on how to act. That’s when I started to hate him, realizing how he was controlling.” She shook her head in denial, recalling the memory with bitterness, and continued:

“My father trusted him so much that he allowed Strange to infiltrate us more and more, until one day, by chance, he found damian in Nanda Parbat. Strange was nosy and curious; he tried to extract the information from me, but discovered on his own that you were his father.” Talia blew a strand of hair that fell on her face and decided to add the next part with acidity: “Strange was so fascinated by this that he made an absurd request. We denied it, and then he rebelled against us. Of course, that incompetent couldn’t accomplish anything, and then disappeared, as he always does when things go wrong.”

“Ra’s and Strange working together?” Bruce asked himself. He could never have imagined that two such distinct people could have had a relationship like that in the past. “And what did he ask for?”

“He was obsessed with surpassing you, but it wasn’t just that, he wanted to be you and have everything that was yours. He asked to raise Damian as if he were his own son, can you believe it? Luckily, Y/n never set foot in Nanda Parbat, so he didn’t discover her in that time.” She paused for a moment, reliving the events. “He wanted to prove that he could raise him and make a better Robin. Strange has known your identities much longer than you think; he knew the real Robin was your adopted son.”

Bruce’s face contorted in an expression of disbelief. His eyes narrowed slightly, and his mouth opened as if about to say something, but the words seemed stuck in his throat. He blinked a few times, needing to assimilate what he had heard. “If he never saw her before, how did all this happen?”

“A few years later, when my father hadn’t been dead for long, I returned to live in Gotham City with Y/n, and Strange found out Damian was here too and broke into the apartment where we were. He intended to kidnap Damian, but he used to share a room with his sister, and by mistake, Strange went to her bed.” She spoke with a heavy voice, the last sentence sending chills down her spine, but she persisted:

“I woke up to her frightened scream and a loud noise. I ran and when I saw it was him, I had no mercy. He is intelligent, but sometimes he is blinded by his own obsession and do stupid things. He was already bleeding, with a pencil piercing one of his eyes, thanks to Damian, then fled through the living room. I didn’t initially chase after him because I wanted to make sure Damian was okay; the problem was I hadn’t realized that Y/n wasn’t in the room. Damian had distracted Strange to let his sister escape, and because of my delay, he took her.”

Talia seemed to be in a trance. Each word weighed on her chest like lead, yet she threw them out as if they were disposable. Her usually confident and determined eyes didn’t know where to look. Sitting rigidly on the bed, her imposing posture didn’t waver, as her pride didn’t allow her to show weakness.

“What did he do?” Bruce throat tightened, as if the air was rarefied, as he waited for the answer. Talia might think otherwise, but he could see through her facade. And despite it being selfish to say this, he couldn’t feel a shred of concern for her, especially when someone more important to him was now involved.

After standing for so long, Bruce sat on the bed next to her. He reflected on the sad incident, deeply disturbed. He blamed her. He blamed her for her character, for lying so much, and for hiding from him that his children were in danger. He was grateful that she had fallen silent for a few seconds, as he was mentally preparing himself for a grim scenario, one he wasn’t yet ready to face.

“What happened to her?” He asked, seeing that she wasn’t showing signs of speaking, trying to prompt her to continue.

"Strange carried her through the city, desperately fleeing from me until he ended up in an alley. He encountered a group of drunks who surrounded and wanted to rob him. He's not a good fighter, you already know that, and like a damn coward, he threw her into their midst as a distraction while he escaped again.”

“Unbelievable…” Bruce massaged his eyebrows with his eyes closed, visibly upset. He pressed his temples hard, as if trying to dispel the accumulated frustration. After a deep breath, he suddenly exploded in a shout of frustration and anger, just like at the beginning. “You should have contacted me!"

“Are you trying to blame me?!” She asked indignantly.

"She didn't seem to recognize him when she spoke to me just now. It sounded like she was talking about a random stranger." Bruce was confused.

"I don't know if she would recognize him again, she never wanted to talk to me about that day. And I never mentioned Hugo Strange either, everything she knows about him she sees on the news."

“You and your father are the worst kind of people I could have gotten involved with,” Bruce said, his voice dangerously low this time. “If it weren't for Ra's, Strange would never have gotten close to them. If it weren't for your stupid lie, nothing you just said would have happened. And I don't even want to imagine what the hell happened after that!”

"You would have made sure nothing like that happened, wouldn't you, Bruce? You talk about it with such certainty, but weren't you the one who let the Joker do something similar to that kid… Is Jason his name?" Her mention of something like that made Bruce's ears go deaf. He could clearly hear the sound of his heart beating inside his chest, until her disgusting voice sounded again: "You would have put her in the same disgrace!"

Bruce lost the control he tried so hard to maintain from the beginning. He threw the lamp next to him into the headboard on the wall. The movement was so violent that the wire connecting the object to the socket broke in a strange way and the entire glass part broke into several pieces. The noise was thunderous, and even when he stood up with a piercing look at her, Talia continued with her laughing face, enjoying watching him go crazy.

“Don't try to compare the two things. You didn’t tell me about Strange before because you were embarrassed. It's too hard for you to admit that you can fail. Besides, you always liked having someone to control, to manipulate at your pleasure. You did this to her, didn't you? And even then, you’re not satisfied. You continued to torment Damian, using him.” Bruce took a deep breath.“I thought you cared about him.”

Talia got up too and lifted her chin, her eyes shining with defiance. “You understand nothing, Bruce,” she responded with a firm and cutting voice. “Everything I did was to protect them both. I explained my reasons to you. Do you think hiding them was just my decision? My father would never have allowed it, and I won't deny that I wasn’t against him, but it didn’t depend solely on me. You, with your inflexible morality and your rules, would never understand.”

“Don’t give me that,” Bruce growled, his gaze fixed and penetrating. “You branded the girl with your initials like she was cattle. It was never about protection; it’s possessiveness.”

Like him, Talia stood up. “I may be a woman of whims, as you like to say, but I didn’t hide anything because I was embarrassed”

Talia paused, her voice softening but not positively. “And as for tormenting him… I trained him, prepared him for the cruel world we live in. Do you think you could keep him safe with your mild methods? He needs to be strong, needs to be able to survive, and in those years I taught him to protect her because no one else would. My father didn’t care about a granddaughter; he finally had the male heir he wanted. I had to meet his demands to make Damian perfect, and that allowed me the freedom to raise her away from all that. What I could do, I did. And what I wanted to do, I also did. And I’d do it all again.”

“You always think you did everything right, but everything you’ve said only proves how misguided you are. I remember I gave you a choice, Talia. I told you that you could abandon the League of Assassins and come with me. I told you that your father didn't need to control your life forever,” Bruce said, his voice laden with disdain. “You will never come near her again. You’ll have to go over my dead body first.”

Talia narrowed her eyes in contempt. “Do you really think you can stop me?” Her voice was low and controlled, but each word carried significant weight. “You always saw the world in black and white. Do you really think it was so simple to abandon my entire life and devotion for you, a mere fleeting romance? If you think it’s that easy to give up everything, I challenge you to abandon Batman right now. After all, it’s because of this secret identity of yours that all this started, isn’t it? Isn’t it as easy as that, Bruce?”

She took a step forward, facing him without wavering. “I can repeat it as many times as you want: I am a criminal, I am selfish, and whatever else you want me to say, but the only hypocrite in this room is you.” Her eyes shone with determination, while his wavered before her.

Bruce hardened his expression, sadness hitting him. He wanted to accuse her of being a low person, but deep in his conscience, he feared it was true. But he wouldn’t allow himself to be deceived; she was still the wrong one here. She was the one who completely distorted the situation, making herself the victim and trying to justify everything she did, turning him into the villain of the story.

“Talia, I never wanted you to be any of these things,” he began, his voice laden with anguish. He felt bitterness looking at her face now, as it painfully reminded him of the time when he had been deeply in love with this same woman. “I wanted to believe you could change, that you would be different from your father. But every choice you made, every lie you told… Our relationship was unsustainable, and now the only thing I feel for you is remorse.”

He closed the last distance between them, imposing himself with a somber aura. “Your actions, your alliances… they put her at risk. My duty as a father is to protect her, and I can’t ignore the danger you represent. I never wanted it to come to this, Talia. But if keeping her safe means keeping her away from you, then that’s what I’ll do.”

Talia clenched her fists, her expression hardening even more. “Do you think I didn’t want to protect her too?” Her voice became silky. There was a dark delight in how the words dragged, a subtle poison hidden in each intonation. “You talk about protecting her, but she needs more than simple physical protection. She needs a mother, someone who understands the complexity of her feelings.”

“Look at yourself for a moment, Bruce,” said Talia, her voice icy and full of disdain. “You’re losing your composure. Do you really think she’ll like finding out that her father is this weak and ridiculous man you’ve become?”

The woman took a step forward, fixing her eyes on his with a challenging gleam. “The only thing she’ll feel for you is shame.”

"Do you really think you can tell me who I've become?" He paused, swallowing hard. "I didn't want it to come to this, Talia, but if you don't leave voluntarily, I'll be forced to tell that girl everything you've done. And then we'll let her decide."

He intensified the confrontation, provoking her: "Are you sure she would still choose you after so many lies? After everything you've hidden from her?" His eyes darkened, pupils dilated by the dim light in the room. "Value the good image she still has of you."

Talia was momentarily silent, her eyes meeting Bruce's with a genuine expression of concern. She took a deep breath before speaking, her voice a bit more dangerous than before. "Would you really do that? Tell her everything?"

Bruce replied firmly, maintaining his serious gaze on hers. "It's what I must do, regardless of everything. Continuing to hide things isn't right. But if the only way for you to leave more easily is under this condition, then go now."

Talia took a few steps back, her serious expression showing shock and worry. Her thoughts repeated Bruce's ultimatum continuously, knowing you would not react well to it.

You were a smart girl, but emotionally very fragile. Your bonds of trust were limited to her and your brother, and you two had been apart for so long that having your relationship with your mother destroyed in this way would leave a huge scar on your heart. This would be the best choice, both for her and for you if Talia didn't want everything to fall apart.

She turned towards the bedroom hallway, as if seeking a moment to ponder the consequences. After a moment, she turned her gaze back to Bruce, her shoulders slightly lower. "You are not going to involve her in your vigilante life." It wasn't a request, it was a warning, and Bruce didn't contest it to avoid further conflict. Understanding that she had decided to leave was enough to reassure him.

"I didn't mean to." He walked past her, picking up your coat she had thrown on the floor earlier, checking carefully that it hadn't been damaged by the broken lampshade, and lifting the chair to let the piece dry once more.

"You know where the exit is; don't take too long." Without bothering to be polite, he quickly opened the door, leaving her standing there. He knew she would really leave after seeing how she reacted. She wouldn't risk irritating him by taking longer than necessary.

Tag list:

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[hyunebunx]

˖˙ ᰋ ── hyunjin messes up and kkami helps him apologize

﹙ʚɞ˚﹚. genre: fluff (might be the cutest thing i wrote recently)

﹙ʚɞ˚﹚. a/n: this is definitely inspired by the new book i'm obsessing over right now so pls enjoy and let me know what you think!! <33

“Well, well, look who finally remembered he has a loving partner missing him at home.”

You hear Hyunjin sigh on the other end, sheepish, obviously expecting you’d cut him some slack for disappearing for days, like talking to him wasn’t the best part of your day. Touring was hard, and he’s been insanely busy from day one – you get it. That’s why, your tone’s more playful than intended, only being able to let the phone ring for two heartbeats before rushing to answer and let his velvety voice bring sunshine back into your dull life.

“Hello, the absolute love of my life I think about daily.” He clears his throat, brushing over your comment in hopes you’re not truly upset he hasn’t called in so long. Two days weren’t a big deal, but for clingy people like you and him, going 48 hours without hearing what the other has been up to was torture. It was just enough time for insecurity to creep in, feeding you lies upon lies about how he’d forgotten your relationship and was currently in the process of replacing you with someone else, someone better and more worthy of owning his heart.

Your heart flutters, a grin finding its way onto features despite your attempts at stopping it. “Hello, Hyunjin.”

“Who the fuck is Hyunjin?”

No longer able to keep the happiness at bay, you burst out laughing, the aggravation clear as day in the absence of his usual pet name. Hyunjin was your baby, nothing else. His name only ever left your pretty lips you couldn’t wait to press against his only when the situation called for seriousness.

Settling down, you ignore his displeased huffing. “The guy who hasn’t called me in a week. You might know him.”

You’re teasing. You both know it, just like he knows that behind your words, the only genuine thing is the longing and the wish to have him close again, missing the steady beat of his heart and his familiar warmth that usually lulled you to sleep, badly. Hyunjin has always been great at reading between the lines, figuring you out easily, like you were nothing more than an unchallenging puzzle he could solve with his eyes closed.

“A week? I know I messed up, love, but it’s only been two days. Not even, just about 45 hours.” You hear sheets rustling on the other end, helping you picture him lounging about in the hotel bed, hair most likely still damp from his previous shower. For once, the time difference was not absurd, allowing you to stare wistfully at the moon with certainty the other was doing the same, sharing stories of your love and trusting she’ll keep them safe.

“You counted?” You giggle, making yourself more comfortable on the couch, right next to Kkami who is sleeping soundly.

“I’ve been counting the hours until I can see you again the second I stepped outside our apartment.” He confesses, voice suddenly heavy with emotion before he gasps, ruining what could have been a sweet moment. “You’re telling me you haven’t?”

Of course, you have. Time seemed to go by incredibly slowly whenever he wasn’t near, the increasing distance causing his magnetic pull to grow weaker each day, but never diminishing, never losing its hold on you. That was impossible.

“No.” You lie blatantly, leaning back against the couch casually, one hand moving to slowly pet Kkami’s head whose slumber gave him the perfect excuse to ignore you.

“Liar.”

For the first time in your life, the fact that he knew you like the back of his hand was annoying.

“Don’t change the subject! You’re still not in the clear for forgetting about me for two whole days, Hyunjin.” You’re not actually mad, just feeling a little bit neglected. Hyunjin has never gone MIA like that, without even texting you brief updates throughout the day just so you’ll know he was still alive and kicking. Your boyfriend was thoughtful, sweet, and considerate – the radio silence you got for the past two days was very unlike him.

“I didn’t forget.” He counters, and you’re sure he’s shaking his head vehemently, denying all of your accusations. “I could never forget, not in this lifetime or any others.”

“Liar.” You mock him, making a face he can’t see and tease you about like he’d usually do. “You could have texted, at least. Let me know you’d be busy.”

“I’m sorry, love.” His voice is soft, apology genuine as can be when he doesn’t try to justify himself or find excuses. Hyunjin is aware that if the roles were reversed, he’d feel the same way you’re feeling right now, the anxiety and worry eating at him from the inside and leaving behind a restlessness he couldn’t shake off no matter how hard he tried to. And he does, to an extent. Not being able to contact you drove him on the brink of insanity, making him moodier and more difficult to work it, which was so unlike him.

“Can I talk to Kkami?” He adds, trying to make it up to you in his own, creative way you’ve come to love.

“What?” You can’t help but laugh, not sure you heard him right.

“Pass the phone to Kkami for a moment, please?”

Now you’re curious, wondering what that beautiful mind had in store for you this time. You’ve been dog-sitting Kkami since he left, sending him regular updates in hopes of brightening up his day and keeping the homesickness at bay. Your camera roll has been full of pictures and videos of Kkami - walking him, playing together and being cute just for Hyunjin’s delight. A small price to ensure your boyfriend’s everlasting happiness.

“Should I leave you two alone? Give you some privacy?”

He laughs, and you hear the sound of a bag zipping up. “Yes. This is just between us boys, sorry baby.”

Shaking your head with a smile, you do as he asks, lowering the phone close to Kkami’s ear like the pup could actually catch Hyunjin up on what’s been happening around the house since he left. At the sound of his owner’s voice, Kkami’s eyes open as his ears perk up, visibly excited to hear him after so long. With his tail waggling, Kkami listens attentively to whatever Hyunjin is telling him, sleep long forgotten as you start giggling next to him, not believing your eyes.

Kkami was not an affectionate dog, often biting or growling at your lover like he was sick of him. Hyunjin’s presence and fussing were a bore, the dog quickly growing tired of his excited nature, even though your boyfriend was the person he loved most in the world.

That’s exactly why, you’re taken aback when he sprints off the couch, running a lap around the living room before returning to jump at your feet, barking and licking the hand closest to him excitedly.

Dumbfounded, you bring the phone back to your ear laughing. “What did you say to him? He’s suddenly so happy to see me.”

“He’s groveling in my stead. I told him to show you how much I miss you.”

Your heart melts, and suddenly he’s all forgiven as tears well up in your eyes. “Hyun…”

“Actually, I asked him if he wanted a treat.” Your tears get absorbed right back as a laugh bubbles out of the both of you, with Kkami jumping into your lap to beg properly. “I guess he figured I wasn’t there to give him some, so now he expects them from you.”

“You set me up.” You say, voice laced with playfulness as you stand up, scooping Kkami with one hand to fulfill his request. A true glutton, he’d never forgive you if you denied him his beloved snacks.

“Maybe. But my words had the desired effect.” His tone is softer now, and you can hear the smile in his voice. “You’re laughing.”

Yet, the joy didn’t reach its full potential, and never will with hundreds of miles between you. Happiness in its truest form found you in a handful of moments, and for most of them, Hyunjin was right by your side, fueling you with the love and devotion he held for you and you alone. He made you happy like nobody else, helping you see color even on the darkest days. Your beloved loved painting, that’s what he did, you just never thought he could bring forth his talent and make you see beauty in everything, guiding you to see the world through his eyes that always sparkled like he held the entire galaxy in them.

“Baby.”

Hyunjin gasps so loudly, almost like he is on the verge of bursting with happiness, matching Kkami’s energy to a T, ready to jump through the phone to feel your love and affection again.

“Can we facetime? I miss your beautiful face.” You add once Kkami is back on his own paws, devouring the stinky treat in your hand as you crouch to his level.

“Facetime? Love, I’ll literally catch the earliest flight and be there in record time! This little screen isn’t cutting it anymore, I need to see you with my own eyes before I get so desperate I start walking back just to be in your arms!”

And that is your cue to get on a plane first and finally visit your boyfriend before he keeps his word and ends up at your doorsteps with nothing but a duffle bag and a sob story about how much he missed you to justify his careless actions.

[miley1442111]

weird facts- s.reid

a/n: intended for fem reader, but imagine what you like:)))))))))

summary: you finally meet spencer's friends after a very long time, it's just... they don't know about you

pairing: spencer reid x reader

warnings: general cm topics, talk of murder, kissing, suggestive

Spencer felt ill. You weren’t picking up any of his calls, weren’t answering any of his texts, and you hadn’t been seen for a whole 24 hours. According to your friend who was staying over at your house last night, you had gotten a call from work and it meant you had to travel, but it was meant to be within the country, so why weren’t you answering?

“Pretty boy?” Derek called from across the bullpen. “We’ve got a case.”

Spencer quickly followed Derek into the conference room, even if his mind was elsewhere. It sadly, was a mass-murder scheme that they only had a few hours to figure out. 

“Oh yes,” Hotch said under his breath. “We have some help, these are Agents Riley, O’Callahan, and Dr. Y/l/n. They all work with unsubs like these everyday and the doctor here has a lot of background from her time overseas. Please use their help and expertise,” he stated before getting up and ending the meeting. The office was buzzing with movement, but Spencer was too awe-stuck to see you in front of him to move, or really notice the rest of the world around him. It had been 5 months since you’d seen each other in person. Both of your jobs made it practically impossible to see each other more than a few times a year but neither of you minded, you loved each other. 

“Earth to Spencer Reid!” Derek shouted at him and finally broke him out of his trance. 

“Yes?!” He startled, ripping his eyes from your figure immediately. 

“Can we focus on the case please? Not the pretty doctor,” Derek shot you a wink and you rolled your eyes, still unaware of Spencer’s being there because of your engrossment in your files. 

“Yes, fine!” He hissed, beginning the geological profile. 

“Spencer?” You ask, shocked at his being there. 

“Hey honey-” He smiled sheepishly as you wrapped your arms around him in a comforting embrace. The rest of your team and his all looked on, deeply confused. Spencer placed a soft kiss onto your cheek as you smiled. Spencer was over the moon, you were here. You were in his arms. 

“You two know each other?” Agent Riley said with a smirk on his face. “Is that the boyfriend?”

You pulled away despite wanting to hold on longer. You picked back up your casefiles with a contented smile. “Shut up Riley.”

Spencer’s face was red as Morgan, Prentiss, Jj, and Rossi all looked at him in shock. 

“My man,” Derek smirked, giving him a less than soft slap on the back. “Congratulations, how new is it?”

“It’s been 4 years, 77 days, 5 hours and,” He took a split-second to look at his watch. “And 47 minutes.”

Everyone’s jaws dropped more. 

“You’ve been dating him for 4 years?” Agent O’Callahan practically shouted. “We only heard about him for the first time last week!”

“Can’t anyone have privacy anymore,” You muttered, diving into yet another casefile. 

“I have to ask you everything about this-” Derek turned to you but you cut him off. 

“No, you have to build your profile,” You reminded him. “Ask me everything when we catch these fuckers.”

They didn’t need to be told twice.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

You sat in the crowded bar, Derek on your right and Spencer on your left, his hand holding your thigh under the table.

“So, he tells you all the weird facts he tells us too, right?” Derek laughed, entertained by your relationship. 

“Yeah,” you shrugged. “But I enjoy ‘weird’ facts.”

Derek nodded his head. “You two are seriously perfect for each other,” he smiled. You could feel Spencer squeezing your thigh, his hands getting sweater by the second. 

“He definitely spits out random facts during sex,” Derek said to the blonde woman next to him and Spencer awkwardly cleared his throat, knowing his own tendencies to not shut up, even in the bedroom. You laughed along with them, not actually giving them an answer. 

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

You walked home with Spencer’s hand in yours. You had successfully caught the unsubs, you had stopped the attack, and now you had time to spend with your brilliant boyfriend. 

“Your friends care about you a lot,” you said as you walked down the dark street. Spencer chuckled.

“They like you a lot,” he admitted. “Probably more than they like me.”

“Spencer, Derek looks at you like you’re his little brother, stop it. They’re just happy that you’re happy,” you smiled. “You are happy, right?” You asked, standing outside his apartment block. 

Spencer chuckled at your question, like he could be anything else. You were the kindest, smartest, and most incredible person he’d ever met. You cared and loved him so deeply. You were his everything.

“I’m more than happy,” he smiled before pressing a kiss to your lips.. His glasses slightly hit off your nose but neither of you minded, his hands began to explore as you pulled away and grabbed his hand, pulling him upstairs his apartment block, ready for another night of ‘weird facts’. 

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

criminal minds masterlist :)

navigation for my blog :) (criminal minds, marvel, top gun, obx+)

[aliteralsemicolon]

I'll wait for your love - 18+

See part 1 | See Part 2 | Part 3 of We can't be friends (wait for your love)

The only thing you’re sure of is that you don’t want things to go back to the way they were and Spencer agrees that change may be for the best.

Spencer Reid X Fem! Reader

DISCLAIMER This story is NSFW and contains graphic depictions + detailed descriptions of adult content. It is intended for mature audiences only, minors do not interact!  You are responsible for the content you consume. Make sure to read all necessary warnings. Please remember this is a work of fiction; if you don’t like it, don’t read. 

WARNINGS: Panic attack mentioned, slight PTSD depictions, case details (barely) mentioned, alcohol mentioned like once. Smut (not the focus at all): making out, nipple play, clitoral stimulation, praise, use of pet names (angel, pretty girl, etc). Proceed at your own risk.

Word count: 10.4K See notes at end for authors note & spoilers.

Avoiding Spencer wasn’t overly difficult on the flight back to D.C. You weren’t entirely sure how to face him after he risked his life for you, so you just pretended to be asleep the whole time. You even took a separate jeep from the tarmac to avoid a car ride back with him, and almost made a clean getaway to your car in the parking lot when Hotch stopped you. 

“I’m sorry to hold you back, but I do need the Anchorage report on my desk before tomorrow morning. It can’t be put off any longer.”

He looked extremely apologetic and you understood. You’re grateful he gave you as much time as he has. That’s how you ended up stuck at work til the later hours of the evening. Besides the few workaholics, security guards and janitors roaming around the corridors, the only other person there with you is Spencer, oddly. Even Hotch has gone home. You’ve spent more time stalking the doctor work through the pile of case files on his desk than you have writing in the one on yours. Only when you're caught do you look away. 

“Everything okay?” The innocent curiosity in his big eyes further reddens the hot embarrassment in your cheeks.

“Fine.” You mutter, dipping your head back down to the open page.

You’re never going to get this damn file done if you can’t get him out of your head, and him being barely three feet away from you doesn’t help. It’s very difficult for you to get your words from pen to paper. Anchorage wasn’t haunting you like it did at first. It was a traumatic event, yes, but alone isn’t the cause of this…block. Obviously the reality that you’re leaving is starting to dawn on you. Somehow your mind has linked this case with your departure and finishing this report makes it more official than your actual resignation. 

Plus, as much as you definitely hate Spencer, you do did care for him. The shock of him almost getting himself killed in front of you is another thing occupying your mind. It’s barely been twenty four hours since then, it’s still fresh. You can see him stand and grab his satchel in your peripheral vision, he’s preparing to leave. There are a lot of memories attached to that brown leather bag. 

Things he would carry in there for you when you forgot your own bag. 

You don’t make it obvious that you’re watching him gather his things in small glances. 

He bought extra hair clips for you to keep in there because you would often forget those too. 

It’s over now. No point in dwelling on it. You shake your head once he’s out of sight, trying to force him out of your thoughts. Now that he’s gone you’re hoping to actually be able to get some work done.

He taught you chess with the mini chess set he keeps in there. You discovered that you actually quite liked chess and would ask to play with him all the time. It was also his ‘secret’ weapon to help you calm down. 

You roll your eyes to push back the tears from the memories that refuse to stop playing. This can wait until you get home, it’s not important. 

It wasn’t the chess set that helped you feel calm. Spencer could win chess against you in just a few moves, but he would deliberately stretch out the game so you could have room to breathe. The longer the game, the more time you had to spend focused on the moves and slow down your thoughts. You could open up at your own pace. He would let you feel in control.

It doesn’t matter if he’s near you or not, Spencer has a way of invading your headspace wherever he is. Your train of thoughts is interrupted with a light thud on your right. You covertly roll the tears away again and turn to examine the source of the noise. A mug of coffee placed on your desk by

“Spencer?” You sputter breathlessly. 

“Sorry. I know you told me to stop. This is the last time I promise.” 

You don’t fully comprehend what he’s going on about, not expecting him to be here at all. 

“I thought you left.”

“I did– was. I was leaving, but I thought I’d make you some coffee before I go. Since you’ve been here a while.” He awkwardly explains. 

You steadily direct your attention back to the mug, reeling in what was happening. 

“Before you get mad, this really is just a cup of coffee from a colleague who thought it might help keep you energised if you’re planning to stay late. There’s no ulterior motive…”

He continues rambling but you’re not mentally present to hear any of it. 

He made you coffee. 

Even though you’ve been nothing short of an absolute bitch. Granted he was a bitch first, but the point is that he’s still thinking of your well being regardless. You can’t hide your tears from him this time. It’s the soft buzz of your name that draws you back to him. 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you! I’ll take the coffee–”

His panicked sentiment is cut short when you jump out of your seat and shove past him. The breakdown you’ve been avoiding hits you like a ton of bricks. You run into the nearest empty office and he runs after you, making it past the door before you can lock him out. 

“Spencer p–please get out! I’m fine.” You’re pacing in the same spot, fanning away the stream falling down your cheeks, hyperventilating.

He doesn’t respond to you, instead cautiously taking your hand in his. You’re in too frenzied a state to care. He guides you to sit on the couch against the wall and you blindly go along with it, still trying to get yourself together. 

You want to stop the tears, but you can’t do that until you get your breathing under control. He slowly wraps his arms around you and you slump into him, head buried in his chest. You should try to fight it, you should push him away, but you can’t. Right now, surrounded by his scent, held in his arms, you don’t want to move. It’s not something you can properly explain, but the feeling is so comforting that nothing else matters. All you know is that you’re safe and that’s enough for you to allow yourself to finally break down. 

The first few sobs are loud, like there’s not enough air in the world to stabilise your lungs. They fizzle out into silent whimpers and you grasp onto the fabric of his sweater, balling it in your fist, just letting yourself feel. Spencer still hasn’t said a word. His right hand is rubbing circles on your back and his left hand is gently scratching just above the nape of your neck. 

You stay like that for a while, even after you’ve stopped crying. It’s been so long since you’ve been in this little bubble with him and you don’t want it to end. You pull away when you feel the strap of his satchel across his stomach as your hand drops to his lap. He visually follows every move you make. 

“You’re still wearing your bag.” You sniffle, leaning back. 

“I am.” He whispers, understanding that you no longer want to be touched. 

He stays in his original position; facing you, but now with one arm resting on top of the backrest and the other idly in his lap. You’ve moved so that now you're facing ahead with your back leaning against the cushions, pulling your knees into your chest. You had never found comfort in silence until the first time you experienced it with Spencer. Staying huddled, you divert your eyes towards him. There’s a distinct wet patch on his shirt. It’s less visible on his sweater-vest, but it’s there. 

“Your shirt’s wet now.” It’s almost impossible to make out what you’re saying with your mouth muffled against your arm, but of course, Spencer manages anyway. 

“It’ll dry.” He smiles, tone delicate. 

“But– germs.” You choke a little due to your previous crying. 

“It can be washed.” He’s using his comforting voice again. 

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.”

The silence resumes. Neither of you dares to move, trying to freeze this moment. It’s obvious that you didn’t grasp how badly you craved each other’s presence. 

“D–do…” The initial sound grabs Spencer’s full attention again. You take a deep breath, hoping he wants to stay here as much as you do. “Do you still carry that little chess set with you?”

A small, airy chuckle comes out from him. 

“Would you like to play?”

“Please.” 

He creates some more space between you and begins to set up the board once he’s pulled it out of his satchel. You move to accommodate the set up, now facing him with your legs crossed on the couch and shoes abandoned on the floor. You wait for him to make the first move. After the opening moves the game doesn’t seem to get any harder and you know he’s throwing the game. You’re okay at chess, but he’s obviously a lot better. 

“You’re going easy on me.” You mumble.

“Because you’re not even trying.” He replies blithely.

“Why are you doing this?”

“Like I said, you’re making it too easy.” He gently teases.

“Not that. Helping me. You hate me, remember?” You say it like it’s the most casual thing in the world. 

“I don’t hate you.” 

“You literally told me that you hate me.” You chuckle, numb to the hurt that sentence once brought you. 

“So did you.” He counters in defence, trailing your hand as it carelessly moves your queen to her demise. 

“I was angry.” 

“So was I.” He spared your queen, in turn leaving his king vulnerable. 

“It doesn’t matter now…” You don’t finish the rest of your sentence but Spencer still hears it.

You’re leaving soon anyway.

“It matters to me.” If he left something unsaid you choose to ignore it. 

“You’re letting me win.” You whisper, feeling the urge to cry some more, but there’s no tears left. 

He doesn’t make a move, bringing the game to a halt. He’s waiting for you to meet his eyes. You know what he’s going to say. 

“Spencer, don't.” You beseech.

“Why?” If you looked at him instead of the board you’d see the way his eyes are pleading at you. 

“There’s no point.” This time it’s your voice that cracks. 

You're looking everywhere else and it makes you too aware of your surroundings. Like how the couch is lined up directly under a window that anyone could peek into. 

“Leaving is not the only option.” He solicits. 

He regards your discomfort and closes the blinds from where he’s sitting, pulling you back into the privacy of your bubble. 

“There’s nothing that you can say to make things go back to how they were.” You bite the inside of your cheek, fiddling with a random pawn. 

It’s not a proper two way conversation. You’re talking to yourself just as much as Spencer’s talking to you. You’re both trying to convince you of what you’re saying. 

“Things don’t have to go back to how they were.” The squeaks in his soothing tone are starting to melt any resolve you have left. 

“There’s no reason for me to stay.” You oppose, trying to make any argument stick.

“I can think of more reasons for you to stay than for you to go.” 

There’s an underlying tension bubbling. Neither of you notice it over your desperate tug of war. 

“I don’t think there’s anything that you can say to get me to stay.” Another baseless sentence meant more for you than for him. 

“Give me one chance. One chance to convince you.” He can see your internal struggle at his request and he throws out one final plea to sway you. “For nothing more than closure.” 

Closure.

You’ve spent months in turmoil over the hows and the what ifs, trying to conjure answers to questions that wouldn’t stop pestering you. You couldn’t turn him down even if you wanted to. 

“Closure?” You repeat, eyes finally latching onto his.

“Closure.” He whispers back in reassurance. 

“Even if you can’t convince me?” You caution, not wanting to give him false hope.

He doesn’t say anything, thinking over the scenario in his head. He simply nods and you mimic the action, blinking away the blur in your vision and dragging around chess pieces. It takes Spencer a second to figure out that you were moving them back to their default places.

“Okay new game.” You announce. 

Spencer blinks in confusion, waiting for you to elaborate. 

“I can ask you any question I want and you have to answer honestly. If by the end of the game I’m not convinced to stay, you back off for the remainder of my time here.” You pause for him to interject, but he doesn’t. “That means we stay away from each other, only talking when needed for work. Even then as cordially and professionally as possible. No more trying to make casual conversation or bringing me coffee or anything like that.”

“Till the end of the game?” He studies you. 

“Yup.” You smack your lips together. “Til one of us checkmates the other.”

“This means you’ll actually give me a fair shot?” 

“Between the two of us, I’m not the one known for cheating at games.” You jab, trying to ease the tension you could definitely feel now. 

“I meant a fair shot at convincing you. As in you’ll seriously take what I have to say into account.” He discards your attempt.

“No, I know. The opportunity was just too good to pass up.”

He can tell you’re trying to hold back a laugh from the small smile on your lips. It’s as adorable to him now as it was the first time he saw it. 

“Any rules before we start?” He asks, unable to hide his own smile.

“Only that we have to be honest.” You answer, immediately dropping your smile.

“Okay.” He agrees, smiling slightly wider.

“Okay.” You nod again.

When he finally makes the first move it hits you that you don’t actually know where to start. Theoretically, you know what you want to ask, but don’t know how to ask. You don’t know if you should jump straight into the questions or start with some ice breakers. Nothing is said for about four to five moves when Spencer pauses the game. 

“Are you going to ask any questions or have you decided that you just want to play one last game for your closure?”

“Huh?” You snap your vision away from the board. “Oh, sorry. I was thinking.”

“Do you want to return to the game after thinking of a few questions to ask?” He raises his brow and relaxes his jaw.

“No, no, we don’t need to do that. Let’s keep playing, the questions will come to me.” You brush off his suggestion and motion for him to continue with his turn. He doesn’t.

“What?” Your voice raises and you scrunch your nose from perplexity.

“Sorry, it’s just that you’ve put us on a time limit and this is how you’re using our time?” He airs, failing to conceal his amusement.

“Well excuse me if I don’t exactly have a list of questions ready to go for you.” You narrow your eyes in annoyance. 

“Why would you suggest this if you don’t have any questions?” He tries to hold back his laugh and ends up snorting as a result. 

“I have questions!” You jabber, unable to maintain your annoyance. “I don’t know what– where do I even start?”

“Start with whichever one comes to you first.” He shrugs, finally making his move. 

A lot of things come to mind when you think about it. The thing that screams the loudest twitches a nerve and you become instantly irate. 

“Okay.” You nod, tone harsh and flat. “Let’s start with whatever the fuck possessed you on the last case. What was your thought process when you put your life in danger like that?”

He almost gets whiplash from the change in mood, his face literally reads ‘are you serious?’. 

“He was going to shoot you.” He states like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. 

“I was wearing a vest, I would’ve been fine.” You contend. 

“I wasn’t willing to take that risk.” 

“Risk?! You literally put yourself in danger for no reason!” 

“I think it was a pretty good reason actually!” 

“Spencer that was–” You stop yourself with a grumble, inhaling deeply. 

“It was instinctual, okay?” He softly explains. “I saw him aim the gun at you and I just reacted.” 

“Well it was a stupid reaction!” You whine. 

“I’m not going to apologise for it.”

The glare you give is piercing, you bite the inside of your cheek to hold your tongue before you say something you can’t take back. Spencer throws his head back and sighs. 

“But I will promise not to do it again.” He adds, not fully intending to keep it. 

This was slowly turning into another argument, both of you shooting back too fast with your responses. You aren’t in the mood for another argument. So you redirect your attention to the game. 

“Check.” You mumble, buying yourself time to think of another question. “Why are you here so late anyway?”

“I wanted to finish some work before tomorrow morning.” He replies, moving his king to safety. 

“Yeah, what’s up with that? You could’ve done those tomorrow as well.” Your voice softens out of curiosity. 

“I wanted to get them finished in case there were more tomorrow.” It’s not his best excuse. You don’t know what he means by that. He doesn’t know what he means by that. He’s lying to you. 

You scoff, poking your tongue against your cheek. “Wow. You really can’t not cheat during a game, can you?” 

“Right, sorry.” Spencer clears his throat after the initial confusion clears. Complete honesty, it was your only rule. “I wanted to be here.”

“For…” You egg on, purposely rolling your ‘r’s to prompt him. 

“I wanted to make sure that you were okay.” He admits, looking away from you. 

“Why?” You’re genuinely puzzled at the admission. “You’re the one who almost died. I mean, it was stupid and your fault, but still. If anything I should be checking up on you.”

“Check.” That’s the only response he gives you. He hopes that you don’t push further, but he knows that you will. 

His lack of response only forces you to think about the possible reasons by yourself, using context clues to figure it out. You are a profiler, after all. 

“Is this because of the panic attack?” You note how his jaw twitches when he swallows at the mention. “It is! You seriously chose to spend your night stuck at the office because of that?” 

“What else was I supposed to do? It’s not like you would talk to me, you literally refused to even look at me!” He gripes. 

“Spencer I think anyone would panic if they got tackled to the ground by a six foot man without warning. I’m fine.” You giggle.

“What happened to complete honesty?” It’s his turn to glare at you.

“I am being honest!” You protest.

“Lying by omission is not being honest.” He rolls his eyes.

“Okay Mr. know-it-all, what am I lying about?” You challenge.

“Seriously? You don’t remember?” His approach is doubtful and he just stares at your dazed expression.

“Fucking spit it out already, Spence!” 

Any sarcasm he had geared up for a response dissipates at your use of his nickname. He’s heard it plenty in the last few months, but not from you. For a moment things feel like they never changed. It stings in a bittersweet kind of way. 

“You sc–screamed– uh–” He clears his throat and rapidly blinks, his nose twitches in the process. “During that panic attack, you repeatedly asked me to stay with you. Y–you, uh– you said you didn’t think you could li–”

“Stop. Stop. Stop talking.” Your voice quavers and you hold your hand up, ears burning up. “I don’t wanna know.”

You don’t know why it makes your heart race the way it does, you don’t even remember it. He waits a while before speaking up again, wanting to be careful about how he goes about the topic without you shutting down.

“May I ask you a question?” He voices professionally, trying to make the conversation less personal so you don’t feel cornered. 

You nod, moving your king out of check.

“Is there anybody you will talk to about Anchorage? Without pushing them away?” He keeps the game going as he speaks to provide you with a distraction. 

“Woah– Anchorage? Where is that coming from?” You titter.

“I want you to remember that we promised to be honest and I won’t push if you ask me to stop, but I know for a fact that you aren’t okay.” He waits for you to stop him but you don’t, even though you know roughly what he’s going to say. “Panic attacks aside, your avoidant behaviour around the topic, inability to focus, being easily startled, you’re showing signs of PTSD.” 

“Spence, c’mon. I don’t need to talk to anyone. I already passed the psych evals.” You attempt to make light of the situation with carefully chosen words so you’re not lying. It was a futile attempt, you know he’s not willing to budge when he doesn’t give you anything more than a blank stare. 

“Why does this matter so much to you?” You sigh in defeat. “Whatever happened…that’s a part of the job, you know that.”

“I also know, first hand, that it takes over your life. You can’t run from it, no matter how much you try to.” His tone is soft as he speaks, yet you feel like he’s accusing you. 

“I am not running! Why would you say I’m running?” You object with a high voice, shrugging your shoulders. “And it’s not taking over my life. Also, check.”

“Because that’s what you do when you don’t want to deal with something.” He states point blank.

“Woah– so– that was entirely unnecessary.” You stammer, unable to deny it. 

“I’m not criticising you. I just happen to know you and I know that you have a tendency to run from your problems. And it is taking over your life.” 

“You’re profiling!” You gasp.

“You know that it’s not something we can just turn off! No matter how much we pretend like we can.” He waves his hands defensively. 

You can’t argue with that, your lips twisting to the side. 

“You want me to be honest?” You murmur sheepishly. 

“Always. Please.” He responds gently, wanting you to be as comfortable as possible.

“I don’t want to talk about it. I spend a good chunk of my day actively avoiding thinking about it, but somehow I always end up thinking about it anyway. At times it’s like I can almost feel…” You breathe in instinctively. “This is the first time in months I’ve been able to do anything without it lingering in the back of my mind. Can we please talk about it another time? I would rather talk about other things…”

Another time. 

“...right now.” 

You’ve implied that there will be another time to talk and he definitely caught it, even if he pretends that he hasn’t. You don’t even know if what you said is true, you got too comfortable with the familiarity of his friendship. It was something you said out of habit from back when you two actually were friends. Not even a full hour's worth of conversation with him and he’s already worming his way back in.

“Um–” You drag yourself further back on the couch, creating more physical distance. 

“That’s okay. We don’t have to talk about it at all.” Spencer senses your urgency to leave the situation and jumps into damage control. “It’s your turn.”

“No, um, I should– I should go. Thanks for doing thi– helping me.” You turn away from him, aiming for your shoes and ready to bolt.

“The game’s not over.” He points out.

“Yes it is.” You declare, still in the process of putting on your shoes.

“You said til checkmate.” He huffs, shifting out of his seated position. 

“I forfeit!” You throw your arms out in a shrugging manner, standing up after him.

“I can’t believe this. You’re going back on your word!” He doesn’t even raise his voice. He’s just hurt. 

“What’s the point, Spencer? Closure doesn’t mean anything, I’m still leaving! You can’t magically change my mind!” You yell, getting louder with each sentence. 

“I disagree. I think that you’re running again!” He blocks your way and yells back, maintaining his volume throughout. 

“Maybe you should think less!” You suggest, still yelling. Sarcasm is your defence mechanism when you have no actual defence. 

“You know what else I think?” He continues, emphasising the word ‘think’ every time he says it out of spite. “I think that you agreed to this thinking I won’t be able to convince you, but I am!”

“I don’t care what you–”

“I think you don’t want to finish the game that you started, because you’re afraid to ask the harder questions!”

“Stop.” You command, but it doesn’t deter him.

“I think that you’re scared to hear my answers because then it all becomes too real for you–” 

“Stop!” The words almost get stuck in your throat, but you choke them out. “You’re wrong.” 

“If I’m wrong then prove it. To both of us.” He sits back down and motions to the board. “Ask the real questions.” 

“I don’t need to prove anything, you’re wrong.” You uphold.

“So leave.” He challenges, knowing that you won’t be able to. 

If you truly believed that he’s wrong you wouldn’t feel the need to prove it, but you do and he knows that. You walk back over to the couch, head nodding from irritation, tongue poking your cheek. You kick your shoes off with a bit of force and return to your earlier position across from him. 

“Your move.” He reminds you as you settle in.

You don’t reply yet, but move your rook to set him up for the next move.  

“Check.” He smugly states.

“Who was she?” 

You don’t move, examining him close for any change in his behaviour. He obviously didn't anticipate that question first, snapping his sights back on you. 

“Sorry?” 

“The woman who greeted me at your door. That night at your apartment.” 

“Charlotte.” He replies, holding your gaze to show you he’s got nothing to hide. “We met at the library a week before.”

“Are you guys together?” You break away first, diverting your eyes to the chess board and trying to seem unfazed when moving your knight. 

“No, God, no.” He denies immediately. 

“I don’t know, she seemed pretty cosy for someone you met a week prior.” You don’t mean to sound as snide as you come across.

“No, it wasn’t like that at all.” He shakes his head. 

“You sure? Because I’m pretty sure I saw her mark you up with a kiss on your cheek before disappearing.” You don’t look at him, examining a captured pawn as you wait for him to make his move. 

“Mark me up?” He cognizes it instantly. “Are you…jealous?”

“What? No!” You vehemently deny, your voice rising in several pitches. 

“You are!” His eyes widen. 

“I am not jealous.” 

His jaw slacks and he lets out an amused scoff. He doesn’t say anything, making you feel the need to fill the silence. 

“I only bring it up because…I know you have a thing with…germs.” Your words falter because of your own uncertainty and you want to dissolve into the fucking floor. 

Spencer tries to suppress a smile by poking his tongue out slightly. If the atmosphere was lighter he’d tease you about it, but he doesn’t want to make you take off again. Still, he feels the need to clarify the events of the night. 

“I don’t know why she kissed my cheek, it was completely random.” He takes his time saying it, still fighting a smile.

You swallow nervously and purse your lips to the side in response. One question answered and you only have new ones in its place. Did she stay the night? Did she sleep on the couch or on his bed? Did he see her again? 

“I drove her home right after you left.” He can almost hear your thoughts. 

“Was it a date?” You softly gulp again, unsure if you even have a right to know.

“Yes.” He hesitates. 

“Oh.” 

“I wanted to try out casual dating for once.” He chagrins. “I honestly don’t know how you did it, it’s not even fun.” 

“No it’s not.” You chuckle dryly. “So no second date, I presume?”

“Definitely not. I was just stressed the whole time.” He chuckles with you. 

“Take a shot of tequila before you go next time, it helps settle the nerves.” You joke, jumping to give him advice you hope he doesn’t take. You can’t help it, it’s what you’ve always done. Even if it goes against what you desire. 

“While moderate consumption of tequila can help relax the nervous system, I will not be turning to alcohol for stress relief.” 

“Then blast classical music while you get ready and give yourself a pep talk out loud, it’s actually really efficient–”

“There won’t be a next time. For a really long time, if ever.” He interjects, miffed at your insistence. 

“You willingly plan on committing to lifelong celibacy?” You exclaim with a puzzled look. “Why?!”

Spencer laughs at how raw your reaction is. He didn’t plan on giving out any more details but, with that prompt he decides that it’s now or never. 

“I don’t think any future dates will appreciate me picturing someone else in their place the whole time.” 

Oh. 

Both of you lock eyes at the same time. This is not a road you’re prepared to go back down, even if that’s literally the whole point of this conversation. You’re too stunned to reply and Spencer uses this as an opportunity to be elaborate. He doesn’t want any misunderstandings this time. 

“I couldn’t stop pictur–”

“Shut up.” You blurt out the sentence in almost one word. 

Your heart’s racing like you’re standing on the edge of a cliff. You’re flustered, every part of your body is heated from how terrified you are.

“Y–you don’t have t–t…you don’t owe m–me an explanation.” You try to elaborate, contradicting yourself and stumbling on your words.

“I want to.” He reads that you’re apprehensive but pushes regardless. 

“Please don’t.” The tears that you thought had dried out were building again.

“Why ask if you won’t let me answer?”

You don’t have anything to say to that. Did you want answers? Yes. Still, you didn’t expect how hard they’d be to hear. He whispers your name and you scramble to think of your next move, and not in chess. You’re unable to even think about the game right now. You want to bolt, but you can’t even get yourself to move. So you deflect. 

“Because it doesn’t matter.”

“I disagree.” Although his tone is subdued, the pace of his wording is faster. “I think it does matter and that’s why you’re afraid to hear it.”

He’s right but you can’t bring yourself to agree. This is only going to over-complicate an already complicated situation.

“It’s not enough.” Your voice cracks.

“How can it be if you won’t even give it a fair shot?” 

“Fair?” 

It comes out louder than you intended. His words trigger resentment within you and you snap. 

“Nothing about any of this is fair! I mean, fucking hell, Spencer, four years. That’s how long we’ve been friends. I mean I’ve shared shit that I thought I would be taking to the fucking grave with you! You were my best friend for four fucking years and all it took was like, five seconds?”

You sob, softer than when you were first crying, but the frustration is clear. He reaches out to touch your hand, but you push his hand away. 

“No!” You choke, sobbing harder when you try to compile your thoughts. “Five seconds to destroy all of it! It makes me wonder if everything we shared, our friendship, was it ever even that strong?”

Your anger simmers to sadness, as evident with how your yelling fades into whispering in the last sentence. 

“I can’t even tell you when exactly those five seconds were. I mean, I know…but…I don’t. Where did it go wrong, Spence?” 

“I don’t know.” Is all he can say after a beat of silence.

He knows exactly where it went wrong. 

“Yeah, me neither!” You sniffle, immediately wiping a single tear that manages to escape. “So again, it doesn’t matter.” 

“When you took it back.”

“What?” 

“That’s where everything changed for me. You showed up at my apartment drunk, after your date with Nathan. Your exact words were ‘I mean as an amazing friend’.” His voice strains like he’s forcing himself to speak. 

Your gaze falls, eyes darting everywhere as you try to jog your memory beyond the one sentence you remember. 

“I don’t understand.” You croak.

“You know, if I wasn’t who I am, maybe you could love me the way I love you.” He chuckles bitterly, fighting back tears of his own. “That was– that was, uh, what you said before you took it back.”

“Spence, please…” You whine without sound, tilting your head back and chewing on your lip as a final attempt to stay composed. 

“No, you wanted to know where it went wrong.” He laughs falsely to downplay his tears. “You can say it doesn’t matter all you want, but the fact is, it does matter. It matters to me and I won’t let you run from it anymore.” 

You can’t look at him. Not with tears free falling down your face. You cup your hands together in your lap, pressing your fingers and nails together. 

“You told me that I couldn’t love you.” You struggle to sound your words. 

“I’m an idiot.” Another chuckle, but he sounds defeated. “When you said that, all I could think about was how badly I wanted to say that I do love you.” 

You tearfully laugh at this admission. 

“I only took it back because of what you said. I panicked. I thought I’d ruined things…which I guess, I still did.” Another laugh from you.

Spencer responds with the same regretful sound. 

The irony spurs another fit of giggles amongst you, this one slightly longer and infinitely more rueful than the last. You look anywhere but at each other until it grows quieter. 

“If you loved me, why the fuck would you tell me that I couldn’t love you?” You sound just as, if not more, defeated than him. 

“Love.” Spencer corrects without missing a beat. 

Your brows twitch up and your heart jumps. 

“I was so hung up on every single part of your sentence that I didn’t know what to say first.” He proceeds to answer you without leaving much room to process what he said. “I wanted to tell you that I do love you. I love you as you are. Not as somebody else.”

“But you didn’t say any of that.” You ignore all his admissions, not fully comprehending. 

“Like I said, I’m an idiot. I was in so much disbelief and that was the first thing that came out of my mouth.” He sullenly huffs.

You don’t reply, sniffling with your head down. 

“For like a second, I had everything I wanted. Then you took it back and it was like my whole world had been ripped out from under me. In those five seconds, you’d given me a taste of what I’d spent four years convincing myself I couldn’t have and I just– I couldn’t go back after that.” He adds after a stillness. 

After a short while, your focus shifts from your hands to the board in front of you. The game’s been long forgotten. You’re immersed in the conversation, in spite of how strenuous it is. 

“I understand why you were distant, even mean, at first.” You snivel. “But after a while you just became downright cruel.” 

Spencer doesn’t shy away from your gaze when you do look at him. His skin is as drenched from crying as yours is. 

“I mean ‘I don’t want to see your face’? I know that I don’t really have a leg to stand on anymore, but, what the fuck Spencer?” 

He doesn’t cringe any less with every reminder. He’s truly regretted the words since they left his mouth. 

“I wanted to hurt you.” He reveals. “I thought you were being deliberately cruel and I wanted you to feel exactly how I was feeling.”

“Deliberately?” 

He nods, hanging his head.

“I thought that you knew how I felt and were just trying to be funny or something.” 

“Well I didn’t. I wasn’t.” You cut him off with a constricted voice.

“Even if you did, it’s not an excuse.” His eyes are glistening from the outpour of tears, but he still lifts his sights back to you. “I’m sorry.” 

You don’t know how to acknowledge his apology at all. You’re not even angry anymore, all you feel is sorrow and regret for the way everything happened. An entire friendship down the drain due to an unfortunate set of circumstances. 

“This is so fucked up.” You say with another mordant laugh. “All of this could have been avoided if we just talked about it.”

It stung less when you had somebody to blame for it. Your vision blurs and you make no effort to clear it, letting yourself cry openly. 

“We’re talking about it now?” It’s almost a squeak, the way it’s spoken.

“Yeah, but,” your shoulders slump, defeatedly, and you have to pause to control your sob, “what good does it do now? I’ve already lost the best thing that’s ever happened to me in the most pathetic way possible.”

“I’m right here.” He counters in such a small voice that it gives your goosebumps. 

“Spencer, too many things have been said…”

“When you first joined the team, I instantly knew I liked you.” 

He chews on his lip and darts his eyes around while he contemplates if he wants to continue. 

“I thought it was because of your kind nature. You were so sweet to everybody.” He decides he does, but his voice shakes throughout. “You have this gift…you make people feel so good about themselves. Whenever you spoke to me, I felt like the most important person in the world. It was impossible not to like you.”

You want to pretend like you don’t know where he’s going with this. You want to stop him, but your voice is stuck in your throat.

“It wasn’t until you bought me coffee for the first time that I realised just how much I liked you.” He chuckles again, as he reminisces in the memory. “You didn’t even get my order right until the fourth time, but it was still my favourite cup of the day.”

“You make me sound like a saint.” You finally choke out, attempting to play down the confession so it doesn’t crush your heart. “The only reason I even started bringing you coffee is because you learned how I like my coffee first.” 

“Not a saint, an angel. I’ve fallen so deeply in love with you that there are times where it genuinely feels like I’m in the presence of an angel.” 

It’s stated with such sincerity that it knocks the wind out of your pipes. Your eyes are widened and you’re biting your tongue with your mouth closed, staring at him with your chin tucked. He seems so confident, even with the glistening from previous tears in his eyes.

“I wanted to be in your life in any way you would have me. Even when it meant that I had to accept you with other people. And it was bearable, until…” His reminiscence only ends at the memory of the night that changed everything. “Like I said, I couldn’t go back.”

The last part fades into another whisper, only then do you find the courage to speak up. 

“Exactly.” You stick to your denial. “It can’t go back to how it was before.”

Your heart is so sure of what it wants, but your head is blinded by fear. You’re at a crossroads, except one path, the path that leads to everything you long for, is clouded with a fog of uncertainty. The other path is so painfully clear, you can practically see what’s on the other side. A fresh start, where the risk of fucking up further doesn’t exist. What you don’t see is Spencer.

“Good. I don’t want it to go back to how it was.” 

Spencer’s waiting for you to enter the fog. He’s going to be there holding your hand every step of the way. 

“I’ve already handed in my resignation.”

“That matters less than everything you’ve claimed doesn’t matter.” He leans in, intensifying his eye contact. 

“I’m pretty sure Hotch is really close to confirming my replacement.” You comment half-heartedly. 

You’re trying anything to dissuade both him and yourself from acknowledging the obvious, but he doesn’t plan on letting you avoid it. 

“I love you.” He whispers softly.

“Spencer…” You begin when he takes hold of your hands and whatever you had to say disappears from your tongue. 

“I love you. With every atom that makes up my body.” He repeats himself with further elaboration to instil it in your mind.

“I’m scared.” You whisper back with a sob, finally accepting it. 

“Why?” His voice can’t be any softer, but it still cracks a little.

“Because, you can’t guarantee that it’s going to end well.” You allow your vulnerability to peek through. “And that’s going to hurt more. I’d rather leave now than fall deeper.”

Although you didn’t say it back, it’s an indirect admission that you love him too. And it’s enough for him to fight harder.

“I know that my credibility isn’t the greatest,” he coaxes a small, sad scoff out of you, “but I truly believe that this, us, we’ll work. Because I know that I’m going to do everything I can to make this work.”

He feels bolder when you don’t pull away from his touch, folding your fingers into your palms and cupping over them. You observe the sight as it unfolds in lieu of a verbal response. 

“I’ve spent four years judging any man that comes into your life, wishing I was in their place, swearing I would treat you better than all of them.” 

Spencer feels the need to fill in the silence and he lets honesty guide his confession. He leans in further as if he’s indulging his deepest secret. 

“Four years wasted wondering what could be, cursing out those idiots, but taking no action to make it happen. And that makes me the biggest idiot out of all of them.”

When he speaks like this, with his big, imploring eyes and prayerful tone, it melts your heart to a point where it almost hurts. The more he talks, the more you begin to lean in, opening yourself up to him.

“It took losing you to realise how badly I fucked up and for that I will never forgive myself. I know that I have no right to ask you to waste any more time on me…”

There’s no more resistance against the pull you both physically feel to each other. 

“...but I’m begging you for a chance to do today what I should have done way before yesterday.” 

Your faces grow closer by the second, you can feel each other's breaths against skin.

“And I’m going to spend every tomorrow proving what I said today.” 

The likelihood of him changing your mind with one conversation wasn’t very high, both you and Spencer knew this when you got into it. You’re not entirely surprised when he somehow manages to overcome those odds too. You take the step to close the gap and lightly press your lips to his. 

It starts off soft, there’s no lust, no ulterior motive behind it. It’s a simple confirmation that you’re both present and this is real. Spencer doesn’t shy away from the kiss, not that you’d call this a kiss. It feels more intimate, more unguarded.

Spencer pulls you onto his lap as he shifts and leans back against the backrest to allow more room for you. You wrap your arms around him and the kiss deepens. In the midst of you straddling him, he slides the entire chess board off the couch and the pieces scatter on the floor. It’s only when you feel that the kiss can’t bring you any closer to him does the lust emerge. It fuels a desire to prove that you both whole-heartedly belong to each other. 

There’s no pinpointing when the switch happens. All you know is that the feeling of his lips against yours is no longer enough. You cup his jaw in your hands, swiping your tongue on his lower lip and it causes his grip on your waist to tighten. He parts his lips for you and it starts what you can only call a dance with your tongues. 

Your breathing grows hotter, your hips subconsciously grind against him. There’s a prominent bulge that brushes against your heat and you whine into his mouth. Spencer grunts your name in response and then abruptly pulls away.

“Wait, wait, wait, slow down.” He breathlessly whispers against your lips. 

“What?” You whisper back with concern. “What’s wrong?”

“Are you sure you want to do this?” He gazes into your eyes, afraid that you might regret this later.

“I’ve never been more sure, actually.” You’re confident at first but the look in his eyes makes you pull back further. “Unless…you’re not sure?”

“No, don’t misunderstand me. I want you.” His tone rises just above the previous whisper with his clarification. “It’s just that the last thing I want to do is take advantage of you when our emotions are running high.”

“Four years, Spencer.” You lean in again, just brushing your lips against his. “The only reason you should be making me wait is if you’re not sure.”

He shuts that idea down by crashing his lips on yours. The kiss is so hungry, so desperate, it’s everything both of you have longed for and denied yourselves everytime you’ve been in each other's presence. It doesn’t take long for hands to start to roam. He traces the curve from your waist to your hips, stopping just at the hem of your shirt, tugging it like he’s asking for permission. 

You rush to undo your buttons and he meets you halfway, starting at the bottom. His fingers brush against yours as you two reach the final button and you pull the fabric off yourself. You do the same with his shirt, lips remaining locked, except for the small gasps of air you take in between. It requires a bit more manoeuvring with him, but you’re both soon shirtless. 

His mouth travels to your jaw and you shut your eyes from pleasure as he continues down to your neck. The stubble on his chin tickles your skin. You cup it, gently pushing him away with a giggle. 

“Forget to pack a razor in your bag, Dr. Reid?” Your voice is teasing, more playful than seductive.

He chuckles, airily, hiding his groan. He knows you’re being sarcastic, but the use of his title, with your voice in this context, catches him off guard. You moan as you feel his growing bulge against your heat when his arms tighten around your waist, pulling you into his kiss. You swiftly undo the clasp of your bra, but before you can take it off, Spencer grabs you from just below the hips and lifts you up off him, gently laying you down on the seat of the couch. 

There’s no room for hesitation as his lips find your neck again and he nips at the skin. Every suckle earns him short gasps and the grip in his hair tightens as he travels lower. He stops just above your breast, pulling himself up to sit on his knees. You stare up at him with a heated gaze, the nail of your thumb resting between your teeth with your lips parted to make up for the loss of his lips. 

He reaches for your bra strap and begins pulling slowly, searching your eyes for any signs of you withdrawing consent. All he sees is how beautifully they sparkle when you give him a light nod. It’s been too long since he’s seen the stars that you hold in your eyes, stars he accustomed himself to before he even got to properly know you. 

Gazing into his eyes, you’ve never felt more sure, more safe. You trust him implicitly and you’ve never wanted anything more. His constant need to make sure you're comfortable sends shivers down to your core. He slides the garment off you and Spencer’s beyond grateful that he’s already on his knees, knowing that if he was standing he’d fall to them because of the sight below him. 

His eyes don’t falter once, he’s trying to permanently etch this moment into his brain. He hovers his fingers above your body, thumb brushing against your hardened nipple and you softly whine. He looks awestruck, almost like he doesn’t believe what’s happening. You can’t help but wonder if he thinks your boobs look weird. 

“Beautiful.” The words fall out of his mouth in a whisper, as if on cue. He’s really just thinking out loud.

Before you can respond he lowers down and plants a small peck to your sensitive nub before taking it into his mouth. You gasp again, head lolling back in pleasure. One of your hands goes for his hair, while the other clings to his hand that’s already holding yours. He switches between sucking, pulling and squeezing; rolling it between his tongue and uses his teeth to squeeze ever so slightly.

“S–spencer.” A strangled moan falls from your lips. 

You tug his hair, whining and moaning as your hips roll against the strain in his pants. When your motions become continuous, he lets out his own strained groan and is forced to release your nipple with a small ‘pop’. 

“Angel, I really need you to stop doing that.” He murmurs in your ear with a gentle, gravelly tone.

As soon as the nickname reaches your ears your hips involuntarily buck up again, making his hips automatically push down against yours. His cock presses against your core and you both moan, his head falling against your shoulder.

“Spence, more.” You quietly whine in against his ear. “I need more.” 

“More?” He echoes back, turning his head so that your lips brush past each other when speaking. 

“Mhm.” You nod weakly as he brushes a strand of hair out of your face and weakly connects his lips with yours.

Even when he’s got you vulnerable and at your most compromised, he’s still as gentle as ever. You don’t feel him undo your pants or sneak his hand in them, but you definitely feel him press the pads of his fingers against your clothed clit. Air escapes through your nose in a huff of surprise and you hum in his mouth, hips jolting at his touch. He can feel your slickness through your underwear. 

“Oh, my pretty girl.” He sighs, breaking the kiss and directing his whispers in your ear again. “All wet for me?”

“Please..” Even with your broken whimper you beg him for more. 

“Like this?” His deft fingers swipe your panties to the side, fingers landing directly on the clit this time. 

They feel cold at first. The contrast against your heated body makes you squirm and you groan in a soft, high pitch. 

“What are you feeling right now?” He pries a verbal response from you, circling your bud lightly. “Tell me.”

“Good.” You sigh, eyes shut as you try to savour the pleasure. 

“Good?” His voice is still soft against your ear.

“Mhm.” You nod, one arm draping against his shoulder and the other hand running along his scruffy jaw. “So good.” 

“And this?” He adds pressure to his movements. “Does this feel good?”

Your hips buck again and he feels rewarded when you moan. There’s no doubt that the sound of your voice is his favourite. He especially loves it when it’s directed at him. Whether that be in the form of a laugh or your sweet moans. It makes him somewhat dizzy. His lips attach to the skin just under your jaw in an attempt to coax more. 

It’s very effective. Fingers working your bundle of nerves, circling and flicking while changing the pressure, and mouth kissing and sucking near your pulse. It makes your back arch, hand gripping his shoulder so you don’t float away. He’s careful not to leave any purple traces of him on your neck, mindful of you being bombarded with questions from your colleagues.  

“I love how reactive you are, Angel. You sound divine– fuck.” He can’t help the grunt that escapes him. “You are divine.”

His touch alone is enough to make you feel electric, but the sweet nothings he’s whispering in your ear will be what send you over the edge. It’s a foreign feeling, being reminded that he values you for more than just your body. Just under an hour ago you had incredibly high walls built around you and none of them are left standing as you exposed under him.

Spencer’s not the first man to touch you, but he is the first that loves you. It’s something you’re not at all used to and it feels as overwhelming as it does good. It transcends the want, no, the need for the man on top of you beyond lust or love. You plan to show him just how strong that need is tonight. 

The carpeted floor is littered with your clothes, carelessly thrown around and tiny chess pieces scattered around the abandoned chess board. Spencer’s comfortably lying on the couch, facing the ceiling and you’re lying directly on top of him with your face buried in his neck. 

You run your fingers back and forth along his jaw, scratching his beard in slow streaks. He’s enveloped you in his arms, one around your lower back and the other playing with your hair. It doesn’t feel as peaceful as it seems, both of you are afraid of being the first to speak. You know you can’t stay like this forever and you decide to bite the bullet. 

“Spencer?” 

You only get silence from his end. You know he’s awake because his motions in your hair don’t stop. You push yourself up to face him, trying to study his face. The sudden movement brings him back from wherever he was zoned out to. 

“Hm?” His features jump.

Does he regret it?

“What’s wrong?” Your voice shakes from worry. “You have this look on your face.” 

“Nothing’s wrong. I’m just thinking.” 

“About…?” 

“How bad we are at communicating.” He chuckles. “It’s concerning when you think about how all we ever do is talk.” 

Hearing this makes you snort and you fall into him again. It sends both of you into a short fit of laughter. 

“Oh that’s promising for the success of this relationship.” You giggle, sarcasm evident. 

Hearing relationship makes Spencer inhale sharply. 

“So you’re staying?” 

“Well obviously, Dingbat.” You scoff playfully at the question and shift upright, straddling him. “But we really do need to get better at the communication thing for this to work.”

Spencer mounts his weight on his hands by either side of him and pushes himself up to you, stealing a deep kiss. 

“Yes, we absolutely do.” He whispers, breaking away for only a second. 

The kisses fizzle in you a plethora of smaller kisses. 

“Spencer, I’m– serious.” You voice in between, loosely draping your arms on his shoulders. 

“I am too.” He says in a hushed tone as he pulls away. 

“I want to take it– this,” you motion between the two of you with your finger, “us, slow. Not four years slow, but, like, by a couple of months at the very least.”

“Okay.” He agrees, his eyes scouring your face with complete adoration. It’s not ideal, but he understands where you’re coming from. 

“That means that we start again. Romantically. We have to talk about a lot of things first.” 

He shifts his body out from under you, resting his back properly against the couch and pulls you back into his lap in one swift motion. Both of his hands graze from your shoulder to your wrist.

“How about…you come over this weekend,” He suggests, wrapping his arms around your waist for a hug, “we’ll do snacks, a movie, maybe an actual game of chess.” 

“That sounds like a date.” You wrap your arms around his neck to return the gesture and lean your forehead against his. 

“It’s not a date. Not yet, anyways.” He whispers. “I’m asking you to come over this weekend so we can talk about things properly, because frankly, I don’t think either of us is in the right headspace for it right now.” 

“Should I be offended at that?” You giggle, not entirely sure what he’s alluding to. 

“No!” He snorts with a high tone. “Dopamine aside, our Norepinephrine and Serotonin levels are too high right now for us to have a proper conversation about this.” 

“I’m not saying that you’re wrong, because you’re not, but I also think you’re just using science to try and confuse me, so that I agree to wherever this speech is heading.” 

“It’s times like this where your attentiveness puts me at a disadvantage, because this tactic has a hundred percent success rate on everybody else.” He grins and you chuckle, both leaning in for another kiss. 

“Can we hold off on starting over? Just for tonight.” He reluctantly voices, not wanting to push any boundaries. 

You draw back and raise your eyebrows with your eyes widened. 

“Spence, I have waited for years for this. You’re insane if you think I’m giving that up without relishing in it for at least a night. We’re not starting over until we’re both officially back on the clock.” 

“Okay.” He heaves from relief, leaning in for another kiss, but quickly withdraws with a new question. “Don’t you think the team’s going to be suspicious when we’re not fighting tomorrow?”

“Forget them, what am I gonna say to Hotch when I ask to withdraw my resignation?” You huff out a tiny groan. “He’s gonna hate me for all this paperwork.”

Paperwork reminds you why you’re here to begin with. You audibly gasp, jumping off Spencer and scrambling to put your clothes back on. 

“Fuck! Spencer, get dressed!” 

Spencer doesn’t share your panic, but adheres to your demand. You mutter a continuous line of obscenities as you throw on your clothes and when you don’t seem to be getting calmer, he intervenes. 

“Hey, hey, hey!” He coos as he steps towards you, still undressed on the upper-half. “What’s wrong?”

“What’s wrong is that we’ve been here for hours!” You shriek, now fully dressed. 

You push past Spencer and grab his shirt, deciding that he was too slow on his own. He lets you dress him as he probes further. 

“That’s okay. No one’s going to notice this late.” 

“No– Spence–” You sigh, throwing your head back. “In less than four hours, Hotch is going to walk into his office expecting the Anchorage report on his desk. I’ve barely been able to get half of it done in weeks, how am I going to finish it in four hours?”

You shake your head and begin working on his buttons. He grabs your wrists, urging you to look at him. 

“You’ll have it done in less than one. I’ll help you!” His voice is light, airy, soft and accompanied with a chuckle.

“Spencer, you’ve already been here later than you need to be. It’s okay–”

“Let me help you.” He resorts to pleading, releasing your wrists and cupping your face.

You don’t have it in you to argue, his eyes staring back at you with sincerity. He wants to help. There’s no point in pushing him away, because as scared as you are about being too vulnerable with your trauma from that case, you trust him wholeheartedly. You know he won’t push for more than what you choose to share right now.

“Okay.” You nod and smile into the kiss he leans in for after the confirmation. 

“Okay. Now, you go and start some coffee.” he instructs softly with a wide grin, waving to the scattered chess ensemble. “ I’m going to clean up here and join you.”

“I love you!” You lean for another kiss and hushedly exclaim as you break away, receding towards the door. 

It’s Spencer’s turn to lose his breath. He’s affirmed his love for you countless times tonight and this is the first time you’ve verbally reciprocated it. He knows that it won’t be the last time either. That, to him, makes him the luckiest man in the world. He stops you from going any further by your arm and gently yanks you in his direction, crashing his lips with yours. 

“I love you too.” He whispers after the kiss, letting you go. 

Heat rises in your face again and you struggle to hide a huge dopey smile, one that Spencer has too. You’re floating on cloud nine, finally out of the blurry hurricane you’ve endured for months. There’s still a lot of things that you need to work out, but the thought of them doesn’t make you feel dread like it once did. 

"One word frees us of all the weight and pain in life. That word is Love." - Socrates

Spoilers: Yapperoni (so much dialog in this chapter), BAU! Reader, enemies (kinda) to lovers, hurt, comfort, love confessions (they might be a little too sappy, idk, I was sleep deprived), the praise made me giddy at some point, smut but I edge you by not writing out everything, happy ending.

AN - I have a little tiny fear that people (me) will nawt (I don’t) fuck with this monstrosity, but out of all my drafts, this felt like the most natural course of action. I thought it would be really fun to go from friends to enemies to lovers. Now, literally nobody talk to me about writing fics after this. Uni’s started, so I’ll be very inconsistent for a bit. Casual reminder: I am not Spencer Reid. I don’t have an IQ of 187. Any facts I make him spew could very well be bull-shit and he only spews them for the purpose of the story. I also have no knowledge of how the FBI works and lack a ton of common sense. A lot of things were made up for the purpose of this story.

A comment today keeps semicolon away (from showing up to your house and eating all your snacks).

Thank you for reading!

[lcvemiyuki]

“couple tiktok trends” | hq

𓂃𓂃𓂃𓊝 ࿐𓂃𓂃𓂃

content: haikyuu boys x reader doing tiktok trends

warnings: disgustingly cute

characters: iwaizumi, kuroo, bokuto

a/n: had this idea for a while and these were the first three i just wanted to write <3 (uppercase intended…revising other works soon)

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟

Iwaizumi + leaving lipstick all over his face

(reference video link)

He could never say no to you. That’s why when you sent him a video of a trend going around social media, all he could do was sigh and ask, “Could I at least pick the color?”

He chose a deep wine shade, his favorite lipstick that he loved to see on you. The rich hue always brought out the warmth in your complexion, making you look even more alluring.

It took you only one take as you applied the lipstick meticulously, your eyes meeting his in the mirror. He watched, entranced, as you carefully painted your lips, the smooth motions captivating him. Then, with deliberate intent, you smeared it slightly onto your chin.

Without a word, he moved closer, the roughness of his hand a stark contrast to the softness of your skin. His fingers wrapped firmly around your chin, thumb sweeping across the smeared lipstick to erase the mistake. The touch was gentle but assertive, his eyes never leaving yours. The intimacy of the moment caused your lips to part slightly, a slight smile tugging up, as his thumb lingered just a moment longer than necessary.

Right after, the camera panned to the seemingly nonchalant Iwaizumi, but the glint in his eyes betrayed him. His focus was entirely on you. The lipstick marks scattered across his face and neck were evidence of your small pecks. He looked ridiculous, but he didn't care. He had only agreed to this because it meant he got to feel your lips on him repeatedly.

He wouldn’t hear the end of it from Oikawa once it was posted.

𓇼𓆉𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟 𓆉𓇼

Kuroo + ribbon on bicep

(reference video link)

Kuroo saw it on TikTok and wanted to recreate the video. You couldn't help but smile at his enthusiasm. "Let's do it," you agreed, deciding to be the one recording.

You both went to the store to buy baby pink ribbon specifically for this. To be honest, you knew he only wanted to show off how much his muscles had grown, but you found his excitement endearing.

Now, in the comfort of the bathroom, you carefully tied a pretty bow on each side of his chiseled arms. The contrast between the delicate ribbon and his defined muscles made the sight even more striking.

“You’re so cute with that look on your face,” he smirked, tilting his head to the side. He was enjoying this a little too much.

“Shut up,” you retorted playfully, your finger lightly nudging his forehead.

Standing in front of your black-haired boyfriend, you held your phone in one hand. The bathroom mirror reflected the two of you, capturing the intimate moment. As Lana Del Rey's dreamy voice filled the room, the video started recording.

Kuroo chuckled softly, the sound reverberating in the small space. With a playful glint in his eyes, he raised both arms and flexed. The ribbons snapped off easily, falling to the floor as his muscles bulged.

“Wow, you’re so strong, Kuroo,” you teased, emphasizing the word "strong" with a sarcastic tone.

“Shut up,” he shot back, mirroring your earlier words with a grin.

Before you could react, his arms reached out, gently but firmly lowering your phone. The camera caught a glimpse of his lips pressing a tender kiss to yours just before the video cut out.

In that fleeting moment, the warmth of his kiss lingered on your skin, the sweetness of his gesture making your heart flutter.

𓇼𓆉𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟 𓆉𓇼

Bokuto + ‘alphabet kiss count’ prank

(reference video link)

You loved to prank your boyfriend here and there because his reactions were so cute.

One day, you decided to ask him if he wanted to film a video with you; the idea was to step out of frame if you hadn't kissed someone whose name started with the letter being called out.

“I’m literally gonna be out of frame 'til your initial pops up, babe,” he laughed, eyes crinkling with amusement.

He agreed anyway, and the two of you stood in the kitchen with your phone propped up on your paper towel roll holder. You started the timer on your phone, and Bokuto immediately leaped out of frame, his frosted tips barely peeking in view, ready to pop back in when your letter was called.

You, however, stayed in the frame with no intention of leaving. As the letters were called, Bokuto side-eyed you, suspicion brewing in his mind.

‘Bokuto starts with a B, and my last name doesn’t start with an A,’ he squinted at you harder, the gears turning in his head.

“A, B, C, D, E—”

“Y/N!” Bokuto jumped back into the frame, his face flabbergasted, eyes wide with disbelief.

“There’s an A, C, D, E, that I don’t know about?!” he interrupted, not even letting you finish the sequence. You burst out laughing at his incredulous expression.

He always got so pouty and whiny whenever you pranked him.

“Baby, I’m just kidding! Baby? Bokuto!” you called out as he walked away with his arms crossed, feigning offense.

The video was long forgotten as you chased after him, showering him with kisses and back hugs, trying to win back his affection. He pretended to be dramatically upset, but you could see the hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

You wrapped your arms around him from behind, pressing soft kisses to his neck and whispering sweet apologies. "I'm sorry, love. You know I can't resist teasing you."

He turned around, unable to keep up the act any longer, and pulled you into a tight hug. “You’re lucky you’re so—” he suddenly grabbed your arms and laid you on the bed before tickling you, “cute!”

You squealed with laughter, trying to squirm away from his relentless tickling. “Stop, stop!” you gasped between giggles, tears forming in your eyes from laughing so hard.

“Not until you admit you love pranking me because you love my reactions,” he teased, his fingers dancing along your sides.

“Okay, okay! I love your reactions!” you confessed, breathless and laughing.

And in the end, he always won, leaving you both wrapped in laughter and love.

𓇼𓆉𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟 𓆉𓇼

want more?

⤷ masterlist.

[cherrychilli]

18+ Perv! Steve Harrington x Perv! reader, F reader, friends to lovers, scent kink, reader being a bit of a creep but Steve's into it because duh, masturbation (f) sexual acts in public, mentions of and allusions to oral sex (f)

WC: 5K

A/N: I was going to split this into two parts but fuck it. Two for one special. Still feeling rusty when it comes to writing so go easy on me, yeah? Also, this one's kind of gross at times. Just a little bit. Nothing extreme but just letting you know incase you're someone who gets squeamish easily. Enjoy!

The hair? sure. Everyone liked his hair.

People usually fell into two camps when it came to Steve Harrington's signature do; either they envied it or they hoped to be one of the lucky ones who got to run their fingers through it.

You used to daydream about the latter when you only knew him from afar but now that he no longer ran with a particular kind of crowd, now that he's just Steve and no longer the King, you managed to get close enough to find out that he smelled nice too.

Really nice.

So, figuring out that he used women's shampoo shouldn't have been the revelation that it was because it made so much sense, his tresses never scented with a wintry pine or spicy cedarwood like most scent profiles marketed to men.

You had your friends to thank for your stumbling upon that discovery, the group of them arriving at your home to bully you out of your PJ's and into a pair of jeans and shoes, uprooting you from your room on a Saturday afternoon for an outing to the fancy part of the mall.

While they searched for new make-up, you wandered a section of the store by yourself, uncapping the pretty bottles in the hair care aisle whenever the sales assistants' attention wandered elsewhere, squeezing each one carefully to sample the array of scents. You did this idly and with no real plans to purchase anything, just something to pass the time while your friends crowded another display a few aisles away, chattering blissfully and swatching lipsticks.

Picking up a fifth shampoo from the lineup of bottles, you brought the uncapped rim up to your face, lightly skimming your cupids bow with it as you gently inhaled. While fun, you'd spent most of your time at the mall feeling a little bored, a small part of you still desiring to go back home where you could lounge and laze in peace. That was until you began to recognize the scent of the newest shampoo you had clutched in your hand, the familiarity of it triggering a whirlpool of memories.

In seconds, your mind plunged back to the night of Jack Sullivan's graduation party. The first time Steve Harrington had spoken to you – really spoken to you since he’d parted ways with Carol and Tommy, seeming much more approachable than he had in the past.

The two of you had ended up sharing the patio swing outside where the air wasn't as thick with smoke and the smell of spilled booze. Making conversation, he offered you a beer he'd originally intended to give Robin before she'd slipped away into one of the guest bathrooms with your best friend Sally. You both knew why, sharing a look of understanding but never mentioning the obvious out loud out of loyalty to your friends.

Then there was the only day it rained in July, remembering the way your fingers brushed against his as you handed him your umbrella. You'd discovered him taking refuge under the awning of the diner you worked at that morning, face twisted all worrisome as he looked up from his wristwatch to the downpour in front of him, forced into walking to work that day due to his car still being in the shop. The only light that shone that day was the gleaming smile he gave you when he thanked you for your kindness.

And then there was the time when you had your head down while scanning a tape at Family Video, bumping face first into Steve's chest when you rounded the corner, his name tag catching on your bottom lip. It was the tiniest sliver of a cut, barely noticeable or painful but oh, how he fussed over you like you were made of porcelain. He’d gone so far as to sit you down on his chair behind the counter as if you might collapse from blood loss at any moment, whizzing into the break room and back with a fist full of napkins to dab the miniscule wound that had already stopped bleeding.

All of those memories and more linked by one scent. This scent.

With your pupils dilating like a cat prepared to pounce, you flipped the bottle over to read the contents.

White frangipani blossoms, toasted coconut, bergamot waters, sea salt breeze and sunkissed musk.

Steve Harrington in a bottle. And the quickest 16 dollars you've ever spent.

And with that purchase came the self-imposed reminder to exercise caution. Upon leaving the mall with your friends, your mood much chipper than when you'd arrived, you made sure to hardly ever use the shampoo when you bathed, afraid that if Steve smelled it on you later, somehow, he'd be able to put the pieces together and know why you'd bought it, even as wildly unlikely as that seemed.

So instead, you huffed the bottle in private on most days, only using it when you knew you'd be spending the day at home. On those eagerly awaited days you luxuriated in the scent as you applied the shampoo in your shower, mind and fingers wandering, working your peaked nipples and your firm clit up to the thought of Steve joining you in your shower and fucking you dumb – tits pressed up against the cold, wet tiles, ass bouncing on his hips as he stretched you open and used you well.

But now that you'd discovered this new kind of hunger you had to make sure to keep it well fed and when the shampoo didn't feel like enough anymore, you set out to purchase his cologne.

The scent was one you had memorized from all of your trips to the video store, hanging around the counter while Steve talked to you about which movie you ought to rent next. You could smell it on his neck whenever he leaned in close on his elbows, face inches away from yours, wishing he'd close the distance and meet your lips with his.

Another trip to the mall had you scouring the men's section like a wolf tracking the scent of injured prey, sampling bottle after bottle of cologne until you found it.

Aromatic sage, dark tonka bean and rich sandalwood. Priced at a cool $39.50 which you gladly forked over because to you, it was all money well spent.

The cologne became part of your nightly routine after that, dabbing drops of the heady scent on your body when you went to bed, the smell making your arousal climb before lulling you to sleep an orgasm later, evoking dreams of Steve throughout the night that made you wake up to your panties all damp and sticking to your core by morning.

You were content that way, the shampoo and the cologne enough to satiate your fixation on the way Steve smelled all while managing to maintain your friendship with him without things becoming weird.

What ended up shattering that peace however was running into him a few weeks later coming out of the Y, just done with a game of basketball as he spotted you passing by and happily waved you down.

He smiled at you just as brightly as he had all those months ago in July, this time dressed in his gym clothes; a pair of green shorts that showed off the thickness of his toned, hairy thighs and a grey t-shirt, the sleeves filled out well by his tanned biceps and its collar darkened by sweat.

Up close, you could smell the exertion on him and that was what became your undoing.

It took every iota of self-control not to rush him to the ground and pin him beneath you, feeling more and more like a caged animal the longer the conversation went on and you were forced to compose yourself.

It was the kind of scent you wanted to sink into, more so than the cologne or the shampoo because this was Steve completely unadulterated – that earthy musk, that rugged, almost spicy all-natural scent that you wouldn't be able to find on any shelf.

Barely managing to hold it together until parting ways with him, you knew you wouldn't be able to rest without it, mind already working to devise a plan.

~

"Risve- what?"

You chuckled as the word died on Steve's tongue, knowing he'd trip up on the pronunciation. Reaching for a pen and a scrap of paper sitting on the counter, you wrote the word down for him. "Risvegli. It's Italian", you explain, handing it to him as you do your best to repress the shiver that runs through you when his slender fingers graze yours, trying hard to quieten your mind after all the ways you’ve imagined those very fingers touching you in your most sensitive places.

"It's kind of an obscure flick but I like that sort of stuff. D'you think you could have a look and see if you've got a copy in the back?", you try not to bat your lashes too much when you ask, not wanting to overplay the sweetness to the point that it comes off as insincere or worse, suspicious.

Steve looks down to study the paper, cheeks dusted a pretty pink, you can’t help but notice. The ends of his hair are still damp from his shower at the Y, just as you expected now that you knew which days he spent there before clocking in for work.

"For you? Definitely", he looked back up and smiled at you in that way that made your heart somersault. "Be right back". He leaves you alone at the counter and you make sure to wait for him to disappear out of sight into the back, stamping down a flash of guilt for having sent him off to search for a movie that didn't exist to buy you time.

You'd planned it all last night, stepping away from the counter before heading towards the employee break room, able to sneak in without fear of running into Robin because you knew she'd be spending the day with Sally on her day off from working at the diner.

Steve’s duffle bag is in plain view as you shut the door to the little room behind you quietly, resting on a chair that'd been pulled out from the table where you imagined he probably shared his lunch breaks with Robin.

Striding up to it, you find the zipper and tentatively, you pull it open to reveal the contents. What you're looking for is balled up at the very top, picking up the sweat damp t-shirt with clammy, trembling fingers. You're really crossing a line this time and you know it, your teeth close to piercing the soft skin of your bottom lip as you bite down on it but you can't deny that there's just something so exhilarating about the whole thing too. The lying, the sneaking around, the risk – it's all a little too much and your mind grows foggy with it, dulling your once sharp intuition and giving way to a moment of weakness that has you abandoning caution now that you're alone.

Waiting to do indulge your urges until you're safe at home feels impossible now that you've got your hands on it, eagerly pressing your nose into the damp t-shirt, eyes nearly rolling back as you filled your lungs with the smell of him. It must have been the pheromones, it had to be, awakening that primal kind of desire in you that had you parting your lips and pressing the tip of your tongue to one of the sweat stains, sucking on the sour, salty musk that had soaked into the cotton.

What you're doing is so dirty, damn near repulsive and knowing that just fuels you even more as you begin to salivate. You're too wrapped up in the earthy scent of him, too lost in the taste to notice when the door handle jiggles behind you, too drunk on the sick thought of what Steve’s used boxers must smell like if you were to pull those out of his duffle next when all of a sudden, it's too late.

The door to the break room swings open and in walks Steve, the world screeching to a sickening standstill when his eyes fall on you.

Your own eyes bulging, you watch in mute horror as he takes in the sight before him, the scrap of paper you'd handed him earlier slipping from between his thumb and forefinger, fluttering to the floor like the wings of a dying butterfly.

It's impossible to know what he's thinking. Is it disgust? if so, he hid it well. Bewilderment? You weren't sure. Ice crackles over your bones as the two of you stare for a few seconds longer, Steve's expression still unreadable.

The whole thing's all the more uncomfortable because of the way he continues to watch you like you’re something to be studied, looking contemplative as you trembled in place, wishing for the ground to break open beneath your feet and swallow you away into a never-ending crevasse.

But as the seconds tick by and the ground stays perfectly intact you're left to seek your own respite.

Despite what feels like the blood retreating from your veins, your body shifts into auto pilot as you wordlessly place the rumpled t-shirt back in Steve's duffel and do the only thing you can do in a fucked up situation like this – walk away. Even as he tries to call after you, you ignore his shouts, continuing on a path towards and out the exit, mortified.

You don't go back to Family Video after that. In fact, you avoid that entire street for a whole week.

The days following being caught out by Steve were some of the worst you've had to endure. Shame made a home in your body, making you ache with a belly full of thorns and your thoughts growing increasingly heavy and abrasive as they flood your throbbing head.

For those seven days you carried around the dread of knowing that Steve had discovered that secret side of you, the feeling worsening at the thought of him telling others what he had seen and rendering you some kind of town pariah – even though a tiny, hopeful whisper inside your raucous head told you that he probably hadn't said anything, at least not yet since Sally hadn't even seemed to have gotten word of the incident from Robin.

But that's all it was. A tiny, fleeting whisper that did nothing to calm you.

At home, you buried yourself in your blankets, letting your anxieties exhaust you to sleep and at work you moved as if you were fighting your way through thick slurry – slow and dragging your body from table to table, unsmiling as you took patrons' meal orders and served them their food.

You continued like that all throughout your shift, waiting for the moment you could peel your polyester uniform off in favour of your own clothes and drive yourself home. With only 30 minutes left before closing, your shoulders which had been pulled tight all day with tension began to sag, a momentary wash of relief coursing through you. That was until you smelled it – smelled him.

Whipping around, your stomach plummets when your eyes fall on Steve walking through the door – and to make things worse, he’s carrying that duffle on his shoulder.

He's yet to have spotted you, taking a seat at one of the empty booths though you notice the way his eyes are scanning the diner, searching.

It's obvious that you’re the one he’s looking for as worry courses down your spine like a lightning strike. Was he going to confront you? right here? in front of all these people? Normally you wouldn’t peg Steve as someone who’d do something so cruel but after what he’d caught you doing, a little public humiliation doesn’t seem all that undeserved, you had to admit.

So, carefully you retreat into the breakroom without drawing his attention, pulling a perplexed Sally along with you once you'd caught hold of her by her elbow.

Once safely inside, you all but blubber in her face, begging her to wait on Steve's table, even promising her all your tips for the next week in exchange.

Seeing the distress contorting your face must have made her feel sorry for you because she pulls you in for a quick, tight hug, running her hand up and down your back in an attempt to calm you. You'd only given her little snippets of what had happened at the video store, making sure to alter a few details for the sake of concealing how far you’d actually gone that day. To her, the gist of it was that you'd embarrassed yourself horribly and that was all she really needed to know, springing into action as the compassionate best friend to the rescue.

"I've got it, okay? just breathe", she'd repeated soothingly into your hair, giving you a quick squeeze and her best reassuring smile before you reluctantly unwind your hands from around her, allowing her to step out of the break room ahead of you.

Outside again, thirty minutes drag on like hours while you purposely stick to the part of the diner that's furthest away from Steve's table. You don't dare look at him but you do sneak a glance when Sally walks by with his order, a single black coffee and nothing else which he sips leisurely while you tremble.

If his plan was to confront you then what the hell was he waiting for? There was nothing stopping him from walking up to you while sweat collects between your shoulder blades as you clear the tables of customers who’ve settled their bill and since left. Nothing to prevent him from stepping up to the counter while you nervously rubbed the surface of it free of crumbs and stains to demand an explanation for your bizarre behavior last week. Nothing to stop him from simply walking up to you at any moment and ask to know what the fuck your deal was.

But he doesn’t do any of that. Instead, he finishes his coffee and casually waves down Sally for the bill while smiling politely. Somehow that causes you even more unease.

In that moment you lose sight of Steve when you’re called over to serve the only other table of customers left, a family of five keen to fit in one last round of milkshakes before they call an end to their meal.

You see to their order despite your shaking limbs, returning with a tray crowded with the cold, sweet drinks, setting each one down carefully in front of the smiling children and their parents before you head back behind the counter with your tray clutched close to your chest. The whole thing must have taken you ten minutes and when you sneak one more look in Steve’s direction you find his booth empty this time.

Eyes frantically searching the diner, you manage to catch a final glimpse of him walking out the front door, bell chiming above him as he departs, leaving the diner and you with even more questions than you had when he'd first arrived.  

Had Steve changed his mind? Had he just wanted to make you sweat for the hell of it? Taken pleasure in watching you try to keep it together in his presence while you traipsed around the diner all too carefully like a petrified newborn deer?

Why had he shown up at all today if he wasn’t going to...do anything?

You get your answer fifteen minutes later when wearily, you trudge into the staff room at the end of your shift, pulling open your locker and all but fainting at the sight of what’s been placed inside beside your belongings.

Neatly folded inside is Steve's grey t-shirt, the same one you'd tried unsuccessfully to "borrow" last week The scent of him is instantly recognizable as you inhale shakily, fingers reaching out to touch the slightly damp cotton to confirm to yourself that you weren’t in fact hallucinating the whole thing.

When your pulse starts to settle and the static crackling in your ears starts to cease you notice a little scrap of folded paper placed inside too. Picking it up and pulling it open, it's with a deep, dreamy sigh that your chest blooms with sunny warmth as you read the note, a smile gracing your lips for the first time in a week.

Three months later...

The only good thing about working the graveyard shift at the diner was that Steve always insisted on coming in an hour before you clocked out so he could drive you home.

Occupying one of the booths inside the sleepy diner, he'd keep himself busy with his phone while you worked, perking up whenever you came by to freshen up his coffee or sneak him a piece of pie he hadn't ordered with all his favorite fixings.

It was during those moments that he liked to have a little fun with you, quickly surveying the room to make sure no customers or staff were looking over in your direction before he'd slip his fingers under your skirt and pinch your ass. Sometimes you'd see it coming and other times he'd catch you off guard, cruel delight curling his lips into a smirk whenever you had to stifle your surprised squeals.

And that's as far as he usually took, patiently waiting until he could get you in his car for more but today felt different.

With no new customers coming in in the last two hours, Sally had taken to the break room to work in a nap while the kitchen staff had stepped out back to smoke and deal cards to pass the time. That left just you working the front with Steve as the diner's only patron.

Having no one else around meant you could flirt freely with him now, making sure to look over your shoulder every now and then just incase to make sure you didn't get caught.

You spent that time alone together with his boot gently tapping against your shoe under the table, reaching out and fiddling with his fingers because you always liked to be touching him while you happily teased each other as the minutes passed by.

Somewhere in the middle of your playful banter you noticed Steve's cup was now empty, picking yourself up from the booth to bring over more coffee. As you leaned over the edge of the table to pour, you anticipated the glide of his fingers on your thigh, inching up your skirt to situate them between your legs.

"You're going to get me fired one of these days", you chide him, still holding on to the pot of coffee once you'd finished refilling his cup.

"Good – then I can have you all to myself", he teased back, index finger drawing patterns on your inner thigh, just a few inches below the lacy trim of your panties.

"Steve", you attempt to scold but there's barely any heat there for him to take it seriously, fingers daring to trail higher.

Meeting his heavy gaze, you watch him search your eyes for a moment, the soft smirk that had been tugging at the corner of his lips slowly fading away as something more serious clouds his expression when he leans forward to whisper to you.

"No one's around, baby. Please? Can I?"

It takes you a second before you know exactly what he's asking for without needing him to specify, heat rising up from the depths of your chest and gathering in your cheeks.

He's got that look in his eyes too and you know that this is what it must have looked like the day he caught you with your face buried in his sweaty t-shirt. That feverish glint of potent want making his iris' gleam.

"Steve, it's too risky", you try to reason quietly despite the way your thighs are already parting for him, allowing him to skim the pads of his fingers over the seat of your panties, teasing your waiting folds through the thin later of fabric.

"Never stopped you before", he's quick to reply with wink, making you grow warmer at the reminder.

He's got you beat there.

"I promise I'll be quick", he pleads again softly and it's almost comical how quickly you buckle under the weight of his needy gaze.

"Shit, okay", you concede as you step closer to the edge of the booth and he pulls himself closer too, hand moving higher to cup your ass under your skirt.

You sigh contently when Steve leans forward and presses his nose against the front of your uniform, right over the juncture between your legs. You're careful to keep your grip tight on the handle of the coffee pot you're still carrying when he takes in a deep breath, inhaling your scent right through your clothes.

Steve liked to joke that you brought out this side of him, the one that made the both of you realize how alike you really were.

It started with the way he liked to linger between your legs after he'd finished eating you out. Your ruined panties spilled out of his back pocket, never to be returned to you as he took his time pressing sweet kisses against your swollen folds and spent clit with his sticky lips, clearly pleased with himself as you fought to catch your breath from the orgasm that'd rippled through you.

And as things progressed, he wasn't secretive about wanting to fuck you so hard and often that the smell of you would linger in the air long after you were done. Or how he liked to nestle his nose in the curls on your mound once he'd finished laving at your pussy – the moreish combination of sweat, saliva and your natural musk making his twitching cock stiffen all over again as he rut into the mattress for a second time, painting his sticky boxers with another generous load.

Other times he'd get on his knees for you, pulling you close by your hips so he could place his face against your clothed cunt and mumble dreamy praises about how good your pussy smelled. And you always loved it when he got like that, even now as your free hand strokes lazily through his caramel hair, letting him do this to you in the middle of your place of work, your coworkers unaware but not far away enough that they couldn't walk in at any moment and find the two of you like this.

"Stevie", you whined softly as you tried to get his attention, a reluctant reminder that the two of you should probably stop before it's too late.

"Jus' a little more, please? need it to tide me over before I can get you alone". His eyes are all glazed over when he looks up at you, tentatively slipping his other hand up the front of your thigh to hitch up the hem of your skirt ever so slightly, his gaze all pleading as he waits for your permission.

With the way he's managed to work you up, your panties more that a little tacky from his attention and your belly tightening with warmth, how could you possibly refuse when you needed this just as badly as he did?

"Fuck. Yes, okay – just be careful", you urge gently because 'be quick' doesn't seem likely anymore.

A look of pure bliss breaks out on his reddening face. "Christ. Thank you, baby", Steve groans appreciatively, pushing your skirt up to expose your panties before burying his face against your clothed mound. He can feel the outline of your cunt perfectly when he's this close – so soft and plump, his mounting greed has him battling the urge to pull the soaked cotton down to your knees and start sucking the tangy slick from your pretty, swollen pussy lips before pressing deeper to lick at your tight hole and all it has to offer.

Restraining himself, he lets out a muffled moan against your core that has your clit swelling and throbbing, your eyes slipping shut while you give yourself to him. It's almost soothing the way he savors you so shamelessly, head partially ducked underneath your rucked up skirt, fingers gently squeezing your ass with his blunt nails making light indents in your skin.

You let him breathe you in for a while longer until you begin to feel a little floaty and more than a little needy from it all, expecting Steve to pull away soon because how much longer could you get away with doing this in public? Stopping him isn't what you want, not really but you knew better than to push your luck by now.

But instead of him reluctantly withdrawing away from you, what you feel next is the wet drag of his tongue along your messy panties, warm, firm and sudden.

Although definitely not unwelcome, under the circumstances, the feeling of it startles you and you can't help but cry out with a yelp, arm jerking backwards as a splash of coffee makes its way onto the checkered diner floor.

Hearts hammering, the both of you rip apart from each other then, Steve with his wide eyes and ruffled hair as he plasters himself to his seat while you very nearly lose what's left of your balance when your shoes skid over the wet mess of spilled coffee. You manage to catch yourself though when you grab the edge of his table with your free hand, finally placing the damn coffee pot down to hurriedly pull your skirt back into place.

Silence overtakes the room as the both of you peer wordlessly in the direction of the kitchen and breakroom, waiting to see if you'd accidentally drawn the attention of any nearby diner staff.

Seconds turn into a minute and when no one comes through either of the doors you allow yourself to sigh out in relief, turning back to Steve.

"Shit. I'm sorry I couldn't help it – had to taste you, honey. You just – fuck, you just smell so fucking good. I needed a little more", he tries to explain when your eyes connect, his cheeks sheened with a thin layer of perspiration and flushed a deep pink.

You were foolish to think you could let him do all of that and endure waiting until the end of your shift to take things further in his car. Leaving him with his lips parted and his jaw slack, you stride away to the diner's entrance to quickly flip the 'open' sign over to read 'closed', rushing back to tug Steve up and out of his seat urgently, grinning when you catch sight of the stiff bulge straining in his jeans.

"Supply closet. Now. Need you to put that mouth of yours to good use."