#this was almost entirely different in the beginning

[yoiisa]

It is possible to write with Blue Lock Bys (Yukimiya, Reo, Rin, Michael, Shidou and Isagi) with a s/o who has high libido. Please😫😈

of course darling hehe (⸝⸝> ᴗ•⸝⸝)

all characters aged up (20+)! Tags: pwp ( ˶ˆᗜˆ˵ ), dirty talk, unprotected sex, p in v, begging, thigh humping (yukimiya), lingerie kink (reo), fingering (rin), oral sex f! receiving (kaiser), car sex, slight degredation (shidou), and body worship (isagi), please proceed with caution as this is smutty!!

➜ yukimiya kenyu would be such a tease with you, but like, in a knowing way ➜ like he'd pretend to jump at the opportunity to sate your appetite, but actions speak louder than words, and he would tease you by continuously putting sex off until you're actually dying for it ➜ he wants you begging for it, because then he can finally take care of you fully, caring for your every need with intense diligence ➜ he's very particular about enjoying every little detail about you, so by teasing you and drawing out your need so much, he thinks it helps him experience everything more intensely ➜ and it most certainly ensures you feel everything more intensely

"Kenyu, please~" you whine as you sit on his lap. "Please..." "What is it baby? he coos softly. It's sarcastic, you know, but still the rumble of his voice is something, and you're so desperate right now you'll take something over nothing any day of the week. Your hips begin to rub against his thighs in an unconscious effort for friction. Your eyes close as you rest your head on his shoulder. A small sigh of relief escapes your lips as Yukimiya allows the ministrations, and a tiny smile pulls at your mouth. At least there's this. Something over nothing, remember that- "Baby, I told you, at the end of this chapter, I'll-" Yukimiya's hand moves to you ass, gripping it tightly, trying to still your hips. "Kenyu, you said that three chapters ago!" your voice is high pitched and almost manic as a particularly sharp sensation of pleasure echoes through your body. You fist his shirt and nuzzle into the crook of his neck. "Mmmmm- please Ken, I . . . I can't take this anymore~" With a sigh, he closes his book. He sets it off to the side and wraps his arms around you, pulling you tighter against him. You begin kissing at his neck and jaw, your tongue darting out to taste his skin. You feel like you're floating, everything about Yukimiya furthering how deep you spiral into a sweet needy mess for him. "Okay, come on," he says sweetly, kissing your temple. "I'll give you exactly what you need my sweet baby." You can only preen at the idea that you're finally getting what you want as he lifts you bridal style from the couch and kicks the bedroom door closed behind you two with his heel.

➜ oh reo mikage my king ➜ i think reo's favorite hobby when it comes to people he cares about is spoiling them rotten, so if you have a high drive, he's all for it, 100% ➜ if you come calling, he'll drop everything for you. ➜ also, bonus! in my mind, this man has a thing for lingerie, so you better fucking believe that this man has an entire section of your closet just dedicated to different sets. ➜ maroon, black, lavender, navy blue, gold, in silk, satin, lace, and whatever else your mind can conjure up. If you can think it, he has probably bought it and fucked you in it ➜ after all, he has the time and the resources, and he's nothing if not generous, so why not make the most of it?

Reo ran his hand over his face, then threading his fingers through his hair. The hour was wearing on him, he could feel the ache settling into his bones. He stands and walks to a chaise in his study, pouring a drink for himself and sipping it. However, he barely gets two sips down his throat before the glass is being forced away from his lips. His eyes widen and he looks down to see you, with your fingers gently pushing at the rim of his glass. You're dressed in a lavender silk robe, the fabric hanging loosely over a peak of lace hugging your skin. His pupils enlarge as he takes in the teasing glimpse and you laugh softly at his expression. "I . . . thought you might be stressed," you say, taking the glass from him and setting it on a table next to the chaise. "I wanted to come help." He's silent for a moment, before a smirk tugging at his lips. A soft blush paints his cheeks and he cups your face lovingly in his hands. "Is that the only reason?" You pout and wrap your arms around his neck, giggling softly. "Hmmm . . . no~" And that's how you end up on the chaise, your legs bent over his shoulder. Your panties are pulled to the side, and your bra is still on, but your robe has been tossed somewhere far behind the two of you. Reo hovers above you, dragging moans and cries of pleasure from your mouth with each deep thrust into you. He's intoxicating, and you can't seem to get enough of him. And as you stare deep into his eyes, you know he feels the same. As you reach your peak for the third time that night, your eyes flutter closed, your back arches, and he welcomes it with a sharp inhale of his own and a kiss pressed against the hollow of your throat.

➜ i feel like rin itoshi's drive isn't the highest thing in the world ➜ like, he enjoys sex and he with you he really enjoys it, but it's never been his priority in the relationship ➜ also I feel like between soccer practices and other responsibilities he gets tired pretty easily ➜ that being said, he does still want to help you out whenever you get needy, so when he's too spent to use his cock, he resorts to his next best thing ➜ or in my opinion, my fav thing about him: his fingers

"Rin!" you gasp, clinging to his body like a madman. His fingers delve deftly inside of you, curling at all the right angles, and sending sparks of pure bliss throughout your lower body. When your hips give a particularly harsh buck, he tsks and grabs your ass with his free hand. "Stop moving so much," he growls. The deep cadence of his voice sends another thrill of pleasure in you and you nuzzle your head deep into neck. "Sorry, 't just feels so good," you mewl. "I love it so much . . . ah~!" A smirk appears on Rin's face, but just as quickly as it comes it vanishes. He licks his lips as he stares down at your disheveled appearance. Your hair is disheveled, and your bare from the waist down. You're not wearing a bra, so he can see the outlines of your chest as it heaves beneath your shirt, which hangs loosely over your frame. When you pull back from his neck, the look in your eyes almost makes him finish right then and there. They glisten with tears of pleasure, and are lidded. He can see the pleasure you're feeling etched into every line of your iris, and love is mixed within that. He feels a tight pull in his chest and he can't help himself from leaning down and catching your lips in his. His tongue immediately delves into your mouth, exploring your mouth. You moan softly into his mouth and he sighs. His fingers don't let up at all, continuing to tease and prod and touch every crevice it can reach. You start to writhe in his arms, but he holds fast, keeping you still. You have no choice but to succumb to his assault on your core. Rin kisses you as you finish on his hand, groaning as you go all sweet and pliant in his hands. When he pulls back, you slump against him like a rag doll and he huffs out a hoarse laugh. As you regain your bearings, he lifts his fingers to his mouth and licks them clean.

➜ michael kaiser operates entirely on his own schedule, so to be honest, if he's not in the mood, you're kinda screwed ➜ but if he is in the mood, YOU are in for it ➜ all his want and desire make your neediness seem like nothing ➜ also, kaiser's got some good ass stamina, so if you set him off, you better pray your drive doesn't fizzle out because this man is getting his fill of you ➜ whether it's on his tongue or on his dick

You squeal as your boyfriend practically chucks you onto the bed. You look over your shoulder and your heart stops beating after you catch a glimpse of the sheer delight on his face. His smile is cocky and powerful and is so goddam sexy. You match his smile and flip onto your back, pushing yourself up on your forearms as Kaiser practically crawls on top of you. Kisses on your mouth turn to kisses on your neck, which turns into kisses along your chest, then your stomach, and before you know it, he's shirtless, you're naked, and his kissing the inside of your thighs. Your hands thread through his hair and he stares up at you, his blue eyes lidded and wanton. His tongue is gentle at first, testing the waters of your arousal, but soon he's lapping at you like a madman. His tongue works wonders on your core, leaving you fully satisfied but still achy for more at the same time. You know it doesn't make any sense, but the "Please" and the "More" still drip from your mouth even as he's delivering everything you've been craving since morning. And he is well aware of the effect he's having on you. You can feel his mouth twist into a smirk against you and it only drives you crazier. Your hands tug at his hair and he hisses, sending sweet vibrations through your core. Your whimpers and moans continue to build in pitch and volume, before finally, you're exploding on his tongue with a sharp call of his name. When Kaiser pulls back, he takes in your mussed appearance with a heat in his eyes and a smirk on his lips. His lips and chin glisten with your fluids. He licks his lips as he settles his hips in between your thighs and gives a sharp grind. "Don't give out on me just yet liebe," he coos. "I'm not done with you yet."

➜ shidou ryusei matches your freak the best on this whole list I think ➜ he will be down for whatever and whenever you want, but also . . . wherever you want ➜ shidou lives for the thrill of life, and chases the high of something new and exciting, so if you're high sex drive comes with promises of that, sign him the fuck up!

"Ryu!" you cry out as he yanks on your hair. The two of you have climbed into the backseat of the car. You're pressed up against the leather of the seats, with his chest flush against yours. You squeal and a slutty smile etches itself onto your face as he licks your neck. "Ryu~ ah . . . oh my god- slow down-ah." "Slow down, huh?" Shidou growls, his lips pulling into a smug smile. "Why~? You were just begging for it a few minutes ago." "I-I know, but- holy shit, you- ah!" You didn't even know it was possible for someone to fuck like this, but here he was. One hand perched on the roof of the car, the other holding the dip of your waist. His face moves from your neck to between the shoulder blades, and he litters kisses there, and sucks bruises down your spine. He travels back up to your shoulder and nips at the skin there, his hips never faltering once in their rhythm. "God I love this little body of yours so much," Shidou whispers hotly against the curve of your ear. "Every single time I see you, fuck, you don't even know how hard you make me." "Mmmmmm," your head tilts back, resting on his shoulder. "I think I do," you whine. "Yeah, can you feel it babygirl? It's all hard and deep inside of you isn't it?" he laughs, the sound sharp and hoarse in your ear. To anyone else, it might be grating, but all it's serving to do right is bridge you closer and closer to the edge. "Fuck! Ryuseiii, I'm gonna- uh! Wait- I, I-!" your eyes go cross and your body shakes with violent tremors. You bite down on your lip to try and keep quiet, but Shidou presses his hand to your lips, prying them open. "Come on now, lemme hear those sweet, sweet- fucking I'm gonna come too. Oh, fuck, fuck, yes. Fuck!" The two of you lean into one another, sweat slicking your bodies as you reach your peak together.

➜ my babygirl isagi yoichi is the easiest to get seduced by you ➜ i had this idea for a fic a long time ago where he comes home and your really needy and it was this whole ovulation type thing, but basically the point boils down to, if you want it isagi will give it ➜ in my mind, he's the most flexible to appeal to whatever type of sex you want, whether it be hard and rough or soft and loving ➜ as we all know he's super adaptable and that carries over during sex, so yay to anyone who's dating him!

Sunlight filters in through the window, the early morning glow giving everything a soft halo to it, including you. You and Isagi are laying on your sides, your chest pressed against his and your leg tossed across his hips. One of your arms are wrapped around his neck and the other trapped between your bodies, your hand intwined with his. A soft blush paints your cheeks and his, and you stare into Isagi's deep blue eyes through your lashes. His strokes are deep and send soft whimpers flowing from your lips. Each whisper of his name only sends Isagi down a path for more, more, more. "Pretty," you whisper, "you look so pretty like this Yoichi, mmm!" He huffs out a dry laugh and shakes his head. Compared to how you look right now- flushed cheeks, dilated eyes, plump lips ready for kissing- he can't imagine how he could even compare to your beauty. You clench down around him and he groans. "You feel so good," he sighs, closing his eyes. His hand squeezes yours and he leans in to nuzzle his nose against yours. "Even this early in the morning . . . how do you always feel so good?" You giggle softly, the sound dissolving into a moan. "Mmmm . . . Yoichi, I love you . . . I love you so much- mmph!" He cuts you off with a firm kiss. He can feel himself getting closer and closer to the end and an embarrassing threatens to escape his lips. For the sake of his dignity, this is the best move. His tongue brushes against yours, and your quick to return his kiss with just as much fervor. He finishes before you, but that's okay. As he says while your panting from the kiss, "It's still early. We have enough time for two- maybe three rounds. Are you okay to keep going?" All you can do is nod, and he continues earnestly, flipping you onto your back and ensuring this time you finish.

a/n: this was a beast to write, especially Shidou. Although I appreciate his freak, I fear I cannot match it as well as I would like lol, so I had to really brainstorm with his to make sure they all didn't just sound the same (˶˃⤙˂˶)

[monsterontheoutskirts]

I still find it horrifying, I read the news almost every day and feel angry about it. I still cry about it sometimes. But protesting didn't work. I don't know if there is anything we can really do to enact large scale change. I felt so optimistic when I saw everyone begin to protest that I really didn't consider the fact that we were college students up against a rogue nuclear power with trillions of dollars at its disposal.

The entire world outside of Israel could side with Palestine, I mean every person, and it wouldn't make a lick of difference. Money alone is also not enough to make a difference. Money does not inherently equal power, although of course you can't have power without money. Connections equal power, connections that have been built up for decades.

It's clear to me that Israel will annex all of Palestine by the time I'm 40. The real question is whether neighboring states (Syria, Lebanon, etc) will try to defend themselves when Israel begins to "settle" them.

Understanding religion is key to understanding what is going on, as well as expanding your mental understanding of what a religious person looks, acts like, and believes. Both Zionism (the largest and most, shall we say, unorthodox, sect of Judaism) and Islamic jihad are major driving factors in this war, which make no mistake, is also a genocide.

Keep donating to (reputable) charities. Learn Arabic, even just a few sentences. Read whole books by Palestinian authors. Study religion. But at the same time, know. Sometimes the bad guys win. Sometimes the arrow does not point towards justice. Sometimes you've done everything you can.

im in disbelief at the fact that a lot of folks are simply over palestine. like protests are dwindling down. people are not very interested in news related to gaza. some are simply over it.

israel hasn't let aid in gaza in 70 days. gaza has been starving for 70 days. the condition of people there is horrendous.

i find it distressing to think about children in gaza. how does one continue to have a childhood in a genocide? they don't have school. they don't have safety. they don't have food.

despite all this, the kids will be alright. they'll be alright once the genocide stops and they get back to 'normal'. till then, can we please try to support them however we can?

this fundraiser (verified) helps feed a family which includes two young children. please consider helping their mother take care of them.

donate here

[prince-septimus]

calm mornings

pairing : robert reynolds x reader

summary : just two lonely people learning of a thing called affection.

word count : 1.5k

You find yourself staring at him often -- the man with the power of a thousand suns. Sometimes you have to remind yourself of the power he wields because when you see him occasionally sitting in the little corner he's created with books surrounding him and an overlook of New York to add on, you forget the events of a few months ago when the city fell to shadows.

When you see Bob now, all you see is the softness he carries with him, the comfort he brings even after years of not having it for himself. How could someone who has been through so much manage to continue on with such a soft heart?

You guessed the same could be said for the whole team. The ruined assassins who spent part of their lives being brainwashed and tortured. The super soldiers who never did quite reach their potential, and spent their entire lives dwelling on it. The experiments and the suffering and the darkness that the rest of you had endured. The whole team had that in common, and it was something you thought made you better than the Avengers.

The Thunderbolts were a family.

(You always were fond of the nickname, even after having to put that 'A' on your uniform.)

Maybe that's why you would find yourselves gathered late into the night, recapping missions and watching shitty 80s movies. Maybe that was what you all needed to keep the nightmares and dark thoughts away. You all had done bad things, unforgivable things, and yet you could still find yourselves together on a Saturday night fighting over who got the last slice of pizza and picked the next movie.

It was one of those nights you woke up early after. You had only been asleep for a few hours, but the weekends were sometimes a little more peaceful, almost like the job followed that weekday schedule you remembered from school. It was nice sometimes to get up early and drink coffee in a corner somewhere while the sun was still rising. Usually you were left alone during that time.

This morning you were not alone.

The coffee machine is still dripping the last dregs into the pot when you hear his quiet footsteps. The others had tried to convince you to get a better coffee pot -- one of the ones with a million buttons that made all sorts of espresso drinks and could add different things. You're sure that sort of appliance was here when the building belonged to Tony Stark, but you liked your tried and true, traditional pot. Even if it was a bit loud.

"Made enough for two?"

Bob's voice is still full of sleep. You wonder if he actually fell asleep or just dozed like he did sometimes. He had seemed tired towards the end of the last movie, after everyone had began to settle down, and you hoped that meant he at least got a good few hours in.

You smile gently at him as he pads over to lean against the counter. "I always make a full pot. You know that."

You hadn't bothered with the lights, preferring the soft glow that had started to enter the space as the sun began to rise beyond the windows. You enjoyed this time in the morning, when everything was still quiet and calm. You wondered if he preferred it too.

He leans over you to reach in the cabinet above, grabbing two mugs and setting them on the counter beside you. He looks cozy in his sweater and soft lounge pants, the thick socks on his feet silencing his movements on the floor -- though you wonder how he sleeps like that at night, the layers of fabric confining him in his sleep.

Maybe it makes him feel safe.

"Can you grab the creamer from the fridge?" you ask, beginning to fill each cup from the pot. You leave a bit of space in each mug for the added components you both enjoy.

Everything is so still as you watch Bob stroll across the kitchen, grabbing the required item before padding back towards you. He gives you a small smile as you finish off both cups of coffee before handing his to him.

He cradles it in his hands as he looks at you. "You're up early."

"I always am." You take a sip, careful not to burn your tongue. "Any bad dreams?"

He shakes his head. "The nightmares aren't as frequent now. It's been easier."

Your mind goes back to when all of you first moved into the tower. It was the easiest way to go about things, being listed as the New Avengers. You all were in close proximity when needed, and even though Bob currently didn't go on missions, he still was around and had his own room just like everyone else. He liked to keep the place put together and cleaned up when the rest of you didn't have the time to. He told you once that it was because he finally had the motivation to do it after years of being in a daze.

You had been to his room several times over the months. It had become almost as familiar as your own to you, with books covering every surface.

(Most of them finished, as Bob did not like to buy a new one until he finished the previous.)

The nightmares were immediate in the beginnings of Bob's stay. It didn't come as a surprise. All of you had your own demons, as proven by the Void months ago, but something told you being stuck in his nightmares was a whole different beast.

You didn't want him to go through that alone.

It had started slow, you keeping him company on those nights. You couldn't stop the nightmares, but you could offer a break from them, an ease of the conscious. At some point it had transitioned into the sleeping in the room together, still keeping each other company but finally taking advantage of that much needed sleep when you both felt it coming on.

Then it turned into sleeping in the same bed. That was after one really bad night. Neither of you were sure what brought the nightmares on so strongly, but they hit you both and you ended up in each other's arms, begging the bad dreams to leave you be.

Eventually they did, and eventually you never left.

It wasn't exactly a relationship -- you weren't sure either of you were ready to label it as such, or even fully address that as an option. The signs were there, very much so, cradled in those shared nights and castaway nightmares, but the trauma bond was clear and neither of you wanted to base your entire future off of that.

"I didn't notice you leave the bed."

You grin. "You never do. You sleep like a log when you're peaceful." Another sip. "But seriously, no bad dreams after I got up?"

Sometimes when you were away on missions and Bob found himself alone in the bed, those nightmares came back. Sometimes he'd call you. Sometimes he wouldn't.

"Nothing. It was nice."

His hair falls into his eyes when he dips his head down to take a drink from his mug. He had got it cut after everyone moved into the Tower, a small trim to hold him over and to appease everyone as his hair got just a bit too shaggy. You liked it -- the length on top and the short bits on the side -- and thought it suited him better than what he awoke with in that room where he had been stored away.

You reach up to run your hand through it, Bob leaning into your touch. Your fingers slide across his short curls, gently straightening the bed head out.

Bob reaches up to cradle your hand in his, moving it down to press a kiss to your palm.

The kisses were a more recent thing, a testing of the boundaries. You and Bob had both gone without a real sort of relationship for so long that a lot of things were practically a new thing, an experiment. It was a way for you both to see how far you wanted to take things, and so far neither of you had said to stop.

"Got plans today?" you ask, careful not to let your coffee spill in your grasp as you push against him, tucking a piece of hair behind his ear.

A soft smile just for you. "Nothing that involves going out anywhere."

You scoff. "You never go out anyway."

"Not ready for that just yet."

You pull softly on the hair at the nape of his neck. "Wanna go watch a movie?"

He leans to brush a kiss to your cheek. "That all you want to do?"

You let out a laugh, pulling back from him when his lips run across your ear. His free arm snakes behind you and pulls you back to him. A few drops of coffee splatter between the two of you. "There's always more we can be doing."

"Nothing we don't want to, of course."

You smile wide as his arm squeezes your waist. "Of course."

[reiding-writing]

A small little thought for the second part of 404 if you plan to write one: enemy!reader slowly getting better, but she just freezes out Spencer completely. Doesn't look at him, doesn't acknowledge him, if he interrupts her when she talks she won't even reply and will just continue to expound on her point, if Hotch pairs them up to search a house she'll act like she's alone.

And Spencer is losing his mind trying to catch her attention.

GHOST PROTOCOL. /spencer reid/

you arrive back at the bau after a four month mental health leave and you’re so happy to regain a sense of normalcy. who are you kidding? what do you know about normal?

late s1 enemy!reader 2.4k angst series masterlist. main masterlist.

a/n | this kinda super sucks i’m so sorry

It’s almost too quiet when you walk in.

The bullpen hums with the low murmur of keyboards and rustling files, but the moment the elevator door shuts shut behind you, there's a pause.

Heads turn. First Morgan, then JJ, then Elle, and it only takes seconds for the rest of the team to clock your presence.

They weren’t expecting you this early.

You weren’t expecting to feel so... exposed.

You shift your satchel higher on your shoulder and cross the floor like you’ve done a hundred times before, but the air is different now. Denser. It clings to you like damp fog, and no matter how straight you hold yourself, it’s impossible to ignore the weight of their stares.

JJ’s the first to approach. She’s always been soft with you, always the peacemaker.

“Hey,” she says, smiling like she means it, though her voice is tentative. “You're back,”

You nod. “I’m back,”

Morgan is next, grinning with that signature confidence, but even he seems slightly hesitant. “Four months off and you didn’t bring us back a tan?” he teases, then adds, “Seriously. It’s good to see you,”

You smile, because that’s what you’re supposed to do. “Good to see you too,”

Elle comes over, a little more cautious, her arms folded across her chest, but there's warmth in her eyes. “Glad you're okay. We missed you,”

“Missed you too,” you say, and it’s mostly true.

Hotch lingers back, as always, but offers you a curt nod and something close to approval. Gideon gives you a slow, assessing look, like he’s trying to read your entire psychological profile just from the way you’re standing. You hold your gaze steady. He nods.

Then Spencer speaks.

“Didn’t think you’d come back this soon,”

He doesn’t say it cruelly—at least, you don’t think he does—but the words hit just the same. There’s a trace of disbelief in his tone, maybe even accusation, like you’ve made the wrong choice, like you’re not ready.

Your smile falters by half a degree.

You don't look at him.

JJ nudges you lightly. “Conference room? Hotch wants to go over a new case,”

You nod and move to follow her without a word.

—

You take your usual seat at the long table, fifth from the left. JJ beside you, Elle at the end. Hotch stands at the front, clicker in hand, while Morgan leans against the far wall. Gideon’s pacing slowly behind Hotch like a restless shadow. And Spencer—Reid—sits across from you.

You don’t look at him. You haven’t since you arrived. You can feel his eyes on you, though. Flicking up from his notes, down again. Like he’s trying to measure your silence.

Hotch clicks the projector on. A slideshow blinks to life, casting pale light across the room. The first photo is of a crime scene—suburban house, blood on the bannisters. The usual.

“This is Amanda Chilton,” Hotch begins, and the case unfolds in neat, clinical detail. You take notes. You listen. You nod at the right times. You ask intelligent questions.

And you ignore Spencer.

It starts small.

He interrupts once, cutting across you mid-sentence as you’re pointing out a pattern in the killer’s behaviour—something about escalation, proximity to schools.

“Actually,” he says, “the research shows it’s more likely they’re targeting public parks. There’s a spike in activity—”

You don’t even pause.

You keep speaking, as though he hasn’t said a word.

Elle shifts in her chair. JJ casts a glance between you both.

Spencer stops talking.

You finish your point. Hotch nods, scribbling something on the file.

You don’t look at him. You keep your gaze forward, focused on the evidence board.

—

It’s not deliberate—not at first.

That’s what you tell yourself.

It’s just easier this way. Cleaner. Safer. You’ve done the work—hours and hours of therapy, of breaking down the walls your mind built during those sleepless weeks in the hospital bed. You’ve trained yourself to breathe again, to walk again, to talk about it without shaking.

But you haven’t trained yourself to talk to him.

So you don’t.

“Don’t placate situations that don’t serve you.” Your therapist had said. And you planned to follow that advice to a T.

In the break room, when he reaches for the coffee pot the same time you do, you let him pour and walk away.

In the hallway, when he brushes past with a stack of books, you pivot on your heel like he’s invisible.

During case discussions, you listen to everyone—Gideon’s theories, Morgan’s gut instincts, JJ’s observations—but when Spencer speaks, your eyes glaze over, your attention shifts. You don’t laugh at his jokes. You don’t doubt his statistics. You don’t argue with him.

You just pretend he isn’t there.

The team notices. Of course they do.

Morgan starts watching your interactions—or lack thereof—with quiet curiosity. He doesn’t say anything, not at first, but you can feel his eyes on the space between you and Reid whenever you’re in the same room. Elle occasionally tries to pull you into group banter, looping Spencer into a joke or observation, as if by accident, as if you won’t notice the trap. You do. You never bite.

JJ is subtler. She doesn’t push, but the crease between her brows deepens every time you sidestep a question or excuse yourself from a group conversation the moment Spencer joins it. She’s protective, loyal. She wants to help. But she doesn’t know how.

Gideon says nothing. But you know that look—quietly measuring, mentally cataloguing, as if you’re another profile to study.

Hotch keeps his cards close, but he’s not oblivious. He sees more than he says. You suspect, if this goes on too long, he’ll force your hand. But for now, he lets the silence fester. Maybe he thinks you’ll break first.

You won’t.

Spencer doesn’t understand at first. Not really.

He notices, of course. How could he not? You don’t look at him. You don’t speak to him. You never sit within arm’s reach if you can help it, and when you do, you angle your body away like he’s radioactive.

The first few days, he thinks maybe you’re just overwhelmed. Raw. Like maybe the sight of him is tangled too tightly in the memories you’re trying to forget. And that makes sense, he tells himself. So he gives you space.

But the weeks go by.

And the space stays.

And then it expands.

He hears you laugh with Morgan in the corridor. Sees you and JJ huddled over a file, your head resting lightly against her shoulder. He walks into the break room once and finds you and Elle finishing each other’s sentences about something mundane, and your face is brighter than he’s seen it in months.

You’re fine—with everyone except him.

And that’s when the guilt sets in.

He replays everything from that day. That case. That argument. The exact moment he goaded you, and you goaded back, and everything spiralled. The confidence with which you’d stormed off, trying to prove you could handle it alone. The exact second he realised something was wrong.

The way his stomach dropped when he saw your picture.

The hours of searching.

The silence.

The hospital.

He apologised, of course he did. Not right away—he couldn’t get near you. And when he could, you barely spoke. The first time he tried, you blinked past him like he was a stranger. The second time, you just said, “Not now.”

He thought you needed time. And he gave it.

But the apology is still there, hanging in the air like unfinished static, and it never gets heard. Or maybe it did. Maybe you just didn’t care.

—

“You got a minute?” Spencer’s standing awkwardly against Morgan’s desk, bouncing slightly on his heels.

Morgan leans back in his chair, arms crossed. “Sure. What’s up?”

Spencer hesitates. Looks at the floor. Then back up. “Is she ever going to talk to me again?”

Morgan blinks. “You mean—”

“Yes. Her.”

Morgan sighs, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “Reid…”

“I get that she went through something horrible,” Spencer says quickly, defensively, “but she can’t just act like I don’t exist. I tried to say sorry.”

Morgan stares at him for a moment, then closes the file in front of him. “Look, man. I don’t think this is about forgiveness. I think it’s about control.”

Spencer frowns. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“She lost control, Reid. Of everything. Her job, her safety, her trust in us, probably even in herself. And now? The one thing she can control is who gets access to her. And you’re off the list.”

“That’s not fair.”

“No, it’s not,” Morgan agrees. “But neither was what happened to her.”

—

You don’t expect to be paired with him again.

You’ve managed to avoid it for weeks. Hotch has rotated partners carefully—perhaps unconsciously, perhaps not—but you’ve never had to be alone with Reid. Not since you came back.

Until today.

Hotch is standing at the board, gesturing to a street map. “We’ve got two locations to clear. Elle and Morgan, you take the warehouse on Twelfth. You two”—he nods at you, then at Reid—“check the victim’s apartment. Uniforms have already cleared for threats.”

You stiffen.

Your jaw clenches, just once.

You wait, thinking maybe someone will offer to switch. Maybe Morgan will say something. Maybe Reid will protest.

No one does.

You nod once. “Understood.”

Reid’s quiet as you both walk out to the car.

—

The flat is a single-bedroom unit in a crumbling Victorian conversion. You sweep through the entryway quickly, methodically, gloves on, eyes sharp. There’s a faint smell of mildew and old coffee.

Reid walks behind you, hovering.

“You want the bedroom or the kitchen?” he asks.

You don’t answer.

You’re already walking towards the bedroom.

He exhales through his nose. “Right. Bedroom then.”

The silence grows louder with every passing minute.

You move like a shadow—quiet, efficient, detached. You examine photographs on the walls, note the postmark on the pile of unopened mail. You scribble observations in your notepad, noting anything relevant for the report.

Reid trails behind, trying not to fidget.

“So,” he says, awkwardly, “I read a study this morning. About trauma memory encoding. How the brain sometimes—”

“Don’t.”

You don’t even look up.

He blinks. “What?”

“Don’t do this,” you say, still facing the wall, still writing. “Just collect your data and be quiet.”

His brow furrows. “I’m just trying to make small talk. Be normal,”

“You don’t know how to be normal.”

The words slice through the room like a scalpel.

He steps back. “Okay. That’s not fair.”

You put your notepad down and finally turn to him. “You know what’s not fair? You getting to pretend we’re fine because you’re over it.”

His hands curl into fists. “I’m not over it.”

“Could’ve fooled me.”

“I blamed myself for weeks. I thought you were dead.”

You shrug. “You should’ve thought of that before you egged me on. Before you treated me like a liability who needed to prove something.”

His voice rises. “You wanted to prove something!”

“I had to!” you snap.

Silence.

Your chest rises and falls sharply.

Spencer’s jaw tightens. “I get you blame me for what happened, but I apologised. What else do you want me to do?”

You stare at him.

And then, with no fanfare, no crescendo—just absolute, grounded loathing—you reply:

“How about you shut the fuck up and leave me alone?”

There’s no heat in your tone.

No trembling rage. No wounded tremor.

Just a calm, clean hatred. A scalpel—not a hammer.

Spencer flinches. He actually flinches.

The air is still.

The apartment feels too small, too quiet.

You turn back to the window, adjusting a photo frame.

“That clear enough for you? Or should I write it down?” you add.

Spencer doesn’t answer.

He leaves the room a moment later.

—

Neither of you speak the rest of the day.

You file your report. You finish the case. You act like a professional.

The team is quieter than usual that night in the hotel bar. JJ watches you like she wants to ask something but doesn’t. Elle starts a sentence, then aborts halfway through. Morgan gives Spencer a look that says What happened?—but gets no answer.

Gideon says nothing. But when you pass him in the hallway, he gives you a long, unreadable look. You don’t break stride.

Spencer doesn’t come down to dinner.

The next morning, he’s already seated at the conference table when you arrive. He doesn’t look at you.

You don’t look at him either.

The line has been drawn.

No more arguments. No more banter. No more sharp-edged flirtation disguised as rivalry.

No more anything.

You took everything that used to exist between you—every ounce of tension, every barbed word, every stolen glance—and you burned it to the ground.

And for the first time since the day you came back, he finally understands.

You don’t just ignore him.

You hate him.

Pure unadulterated loathing.

[bittencider]

notes: fluff, jealousy, clingy, non!mc, caleb is a tad bit ooc,,

my first fic! english is not my first language so sorry if it’s kinda ass :-(

the first time caleb met her, she was standing in the middle of her tiny front yard with scraped knees, dirt on her cheeks, and a scowl that threatened to split the ground.

caleb was eight, just two years older, leaning on the gate that separated his house from hers, chewing on the end of an apple juice straw. he’d been watching her for five minutes before he finally spoke.

“you’re gonna scare all the bugs away if you keep frowning like that.”

she froze, spun around, and narrowed her eyes at him. her voice was soft, almost as quiet as a whisper. “who are you?”

“i’m caleb.” he pressed his face between the bars of the gate in an attempt to get a better look at her. “you just moved in, right?”

she nodded slowly, still frowning. “are you from here?”

“born and raised,” he smiled. “you’re crying.”

“i’m not,” she pouted, quickly rubbing her face with a dirty sleeve.

“you are,” he said, already pushing the gate open without hesitation. he kneeled beside her, looking at the flowerbed in front of them curiously. “what are you looking for?”

“my... hairpin,” she muttered. “it has a blue butterfly on it. my granny gave it to me.”

he hummed, thoughtful, already scanning through the weeds. “wanna help?”

she didn’t answer, but she didn’t stop him either.

together, they searched in silence until caleb triumphantly held up the butterfly-shaped pin, dirt still clinging to the metal.

she stared at him with widened eyes like he’d just done a magic trick.

he gave it to her without a word, then stood up and dusted off his knees. and with a smile, he said to her softly, “there, no more crying, ‘kay?”

that was just the beginning.

she didn’t know how it happened, but soon caleb was simply there. he was the one who sat next to her in every group project, the one who slipped notes into her lunchbox, and the one who stood between her and a fast-moving volleyball when she had spaced out during gym class.

he had a knack for knowing where she was—even when she tried to disappear—and what she needed before she even did.

every morning, every aftertoon, every time she got overwhelmed by the noisy city or missed the quiet trees of her old home, caleb was her shadow, her shelter.

and she wasn’t any different—constantly following him like a duckling, and he let her. he liked it. honestly, he loved it.

he didn’t even mind when she clung to him too tightly—or cried when she couldn't keep up.

she depended on him almost completely, which was exactly what he wanted, and he never once made her feel like a burden.

It was as if she was the sun, and caleb simply orbited around her.

by the time they were in highschool, caleb’s legs stretched out like vines and his shoulders broadened, he stood at an intimidating 188cm.

he had become an entirely different person—yet somehow still the same.

strong, athletic, annoyingly handsome—and has a smile that could smooth over any awkward moment. he wasn’t just well-liked either—he was adored. friendly, easy-going, impossibly charming. even the teachers gave him too much leniency.

and she hated it.

she didn’t hate the fact that he was popular, nor how good he was in everything. but that he didn’t look at her the same way he used to.

the way he waved back at other girls in the hallway, smiled too long, and joked too easily with anyone who wasn’t her. she’d never admit it, but it dug into her like a thorn under skin.

he still made time for her. still waited outside her class for her, still walked her home, still teased her when she got all pouty. he still saw her. but it felt... diluted. spread out.

she missed when she was the center of his attention.

it was a friday after school, she headed towards the soccer field, where caleb was supposed to have practice at that day.

surprisingly, her eyes caught on to his tall figure standing outside the field, surrounded by a small group of girls.

he was laughing—really laughing—and one of them even held his arm like it was the most natural thing in the world.

she stood behind a pillar, watching as her stomach twisted.

she hated that too.

later that evening, she came home, angrily kicking rocks that were in her way.

she looked up at her porch, her eyes finding a figure that was all too familiar.

unsurprisingly, caleb was already sitting on the steps, arms draped loosely over his knees.

he'd done this a hundred times before—waited for her to come home.

“hey,” he said, glancing up. “you’re late. you okay?”

she didn't answer. she just dropped beside him, back pressed against the wood railing.

“long day?” he tried again, his eyes scanning her slumped figure.

still no answer.

“you’re mad.”

“no, i’m not.” she snapped too fast, arms crossed.

caleb arched a brow, “see, you are.”

she turned to him sharply. “why wouldn’t i be? you’ve been practically flirting with half of the school.”

he blinked, clearly wasn’t expecting that. “what’re you talking about?” then he gave a small, amused laugh. “what, you jealous?”

“i’m not jealous,” she bit out. “i just think it’s stupid. you were acting like some dumb prince charming, and everyone was falling all over themselves for it.”

there was a beat of silence. then caleb leaned in a little, his voice lower.

“didn’t know you cared who i flirted with.”

she stiffened. her cheeks burned. “i don’t.”

“you sure?”

“yes,” she hissed, glaring at the floor.

caleb didn’t say anything right away. he just watched her—attentive, quiet, as he always was whenever she’d get upset.

“i only flirt when you're watching,” he said suddenly, softly. “because it’s the only time you look at me like that.”

she froze.

like what?

before she could ask, he leaned back, looking up at the sky like he hadn’t just casually dropped a bomb at her.

“i don’t care about them nor like them, you know.” he added after a moment, “i never have.”

she swallowed, hard. the air between them felt charged—too much, too loud, too fast.

“who do you like, then?” she asked, the words escaping her lips before she could stop them.

caleb leaned in just a little bit closer to her face when he answered.

“you.”

[orellazalonia]

Obsessive Love

Summary: You and Bucky Barnes fall into a quiet but intense obsession with each other. While your love is sweet, watchful, and clingy beneath a gentle surface, Bucky’s affection turns darker and more possessive. The love you two share was not born out of malice, rather need, devotion, and a love that tightens like a noose. (Yandere Bucky Barnes x Yandere!reader)

Warnings/Disclaimer: Minors DNI. Dark Bucky Barnes. Dark reader. Yandere themes. Implied stalking/watching immensely.

Word Count: 1.9k+

A/N: This was so fun to write. It has a second part to it too. I might post it tomorrow. You are responsible for the media you consume. Let me know if I should add something else to the warnings, tags, or anything else.

Main Masterlist | Devoted Possession (Part 2.)

It was never supposed to happen like this.

You never expected to be in the situation you were in now; curled in the arms of Bucky Barnes, eyes barely open as you lay against him. The warmth of his body acts as a shield from the world. At first, you were just part of the team because it was just a job. Just a mission, something you’d done countless times before, working alongside the Avengers to take down the bad guys. But then came Bucky.

It didn’t happen all at once. It was subtle, like the slow spread of a virus, but by the time you realized what had changed, it was already too late.

The beginning was almost innocent. Almost.

When you first met Bucky Barnes, you had no idea that he would become the center of your world. At first, he was just another soldier, another teammate. A broken man struggling to piece himself back together. But there was something about him that intrigued you, something hidden behind the dark intensity of his gaze that drew you in like a magnet.

You didn’t mean to get so close. You honestly didn’t mean for it to happen. But it did.

Because Bucky was different. He wasn’t like the others. His scars, both physical and mental, made him stand out in a way you couldn’t ignore. He didn’t pretend to be perfect. And you didn’t want him to be. The cracks in him made him… real. He wasn’t like the men from your past who had lied, manipulated, and betrayed. He wore his flaws like armor. And, for you, that was everything.

You started off by offering quiet companionship. A kind word here, a soft smile there. You knew that Bucky wasn’t someone who trusted easily. He had been through too much. So, you didn’t force it. You just… waited. Watched him from afar, letting your presence be a steady, comforting thing in the chaos that surrounded him.

It didn’t take long before Bucky began to notice you. It wasn’t obvious though at first. He would give you a nod here and there, maybe a short, clipped sentence when the mission was over. But it was enough. It was enough to make your heart race every time he glanced in your direction, to make you feel like he saw you. Really saw you.

And then, one day, it happened.

You were on a mission together, as usual, when the two of you got separated from the rest of the team. It was a small thing, just a few minutes of being alone in a quiet corner of a dark building, but it was enough for something to shift. Bucky looked at you in a way he hadn’t before. No longer as a teammate, not as someone to protect or be protected by, but as something else entirely. Something you couldn’t quite place but felt deep in your bones.

It was there, in the silence, that you took your first step.

You smiled at him. “Are you okay, Bucky?”

He blinked, but then something softened in his eyes. He looked away briefly, like he was trying to hide his vulnerability. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

But you knew better. You could always tell when someone wasn’t being honest, and Bucky… Bucky was never truly fine. You could see the cracks in his composure. It made you want to protect him. To shield him from whatever haunted him, even if that meant making sure no one else could ever touch him.

It wasn’t malice. It wasn’t some dark desire to hurt others. But it was a need. A need to care for him. To love him in a way that no one else could. To make sure he was only ever yours.

The thought was almost comforting, becoming something you would rely on and remind yourself of often. The world was big, but when you were with Bucky, it felt so small. Just the two of you. No one else mattered.

Your affection grew slowly, like a seed planted in the quiet moments. You would find yourself lingering near him, watching him without his knowledge, memorizing the way his jaw tightened when he was thinking too hard, the way he would instinctively hold things with his normal arm instead of his metal arm and you, being ever so observant, saw the way he flinched when someone made a joke about the metal appendage. You wanted to shield him from those moments. You wanted to be the one he turned to, the one he could rely on, even if you two just sat in silence.

But that was the thing, wasn’t it? You didn’t need to be loud about your affection. You didn’t need to be overt. You were like a shadow, always there, always watching. Just enough to make sure he never strayed too far from you. To ensure that no one else could have him, not when you were so willing to give him everything. Your love was sweet, soft even. But beneath it was something darker, something that always kept a careful eye on the world around you. You’d smile at others, be polite, make them feel comfortable. But you were always watching. Always waiting.

But you weren’t the only one watching. Bucky noticed you, just as keenly. He wasn’t blind to the way you lingered around him, the way your eyes followed his every move, the way you seemed to keep track of his moods as if you could anticipate them before they even formed.

But it didn’t scare him. No, it intrigued him. Because, as much as Bucky was a soldier with a dark past, he craved that connection. He craved someone who saw him, who understood him without him needing to explain.

Bucky’s obsession was different. It wasn’t that he was unaware of his feelings, but they were more visceral. More possessive. The way he looked at you when someone spoke to you for too long, the way his hand would always drift to your back when others tried to get too close. He was marking his territory. He didn’t just want you. He needed you.

And when he needed something, it wasn’t just for a moment. It was forever.

Therefore, one day when it was late in the night with a mission recently finished and the team dispersed to their own things, you weren’t ready to go back to your room. Not yet.

The hallway was empty, lit only by the dim flickering of old lights above. You hadn’t even noticed Bucky following you, your footsteps echoing softly on the cold concrete floor. It was a rare sight to see someone as observant as you being lost in thought. Your mind was still running through everything: the mission, the battle, the faces of the enemies you’d taken down. It was all so mechanical, so numb.

But then, you finally noticed it. The sound of boots on the floor, slow but deliberate, the familiar thump-thump-thump that you’d come to associate with him.

You didn’t have to turn to know it was him.

“Are you okay?” Bucky’s voice was low, soft, but the underlying tension was palpable. As always, he’d been the one to watch you, the one who noticed when you slipped into yourself, when you started retreating into that space where everything felt too overwhelming.

You didn't respond at first. Your chest tightened and your thoughts were spinning. You desperately wanted to reply, use this moment to talk to him. But you couldn’t, not now. Instead, you kept walking, your shoes tapping against the floor in a steady rhythm. You didn’t want to face him. Didn’t want to let him see the cracks forming inside of you. But you knew he wouldn’t let you get away that easily. He never did.

He caught up with you, walking just behind you now, close enough that you were sure he’d run into you if you stopped. The air between you thickened with each step. Then, without warning, his hand shot out and grabbed your wrist, stopping you in your tracks.

The sudden contact startled you. You whipped around, meeting his gaze to see those piercing blue eyes, full of questions, full of something more.

Bucky didn’t say anything for a long moment, just watching you, his grip on your wrist not letting go, as though he was afraid you might slip away if he loosened it. And maybe he was right.

“You’re not okay,” He said finally, his voice quiet but intense. “I can see it. You’re not okay, and you keep pretending you are.”

You swallowed, your throat tight. You didn’t know how to respond, didn’t know how to let him in. So you looked away, your eyes drifting toward the floor.

But he didn’t let you turn from him. Instead, his other hand found its way to your cheek, lifting your face up to meet his. His touch was soft, tentative, like he was testing the waters, unsure if you’d pull away.

But you didn’t.

It was that moment. That moment where everything changed.

There was a flicker of something in his gaze: something raw, something darker than you’d ever seen. It made your heart race and made your breath catch in your throat. You could feel the heat of his body close to yours, the scent of him, the sound of his heartbeat matching your own. And in that space, it was like time slowed down. Everything faded away, and there was only him. Only Bucky.

And before you could even register what was happening, he closed the distance between you.

His lips brushed against yours, tentative at first, like he was waiting for you to pull away. But you didn’t. You leaned into him instead, your hands finding his chest, your fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt as you kissed him back.

It wasn’t soft. It wasn’t gentle. It was desperate, frantic. As if you both needed it. Needed the connection and the reassurance that you weren’t alone in this twisted, broken world. His lips pressed harder against yours, and your grip on him tightened, pulling him closer, deeper, until you could feel the thudding of his heart against your chest.

You both stopped thinking. There was no time for reason, no room for hesitation. There was just the moment. The kiss.

When you finally pulled away, your breath was shallow, your face flushed, and your heart raced as though you’d been running for miles. Bucky’s forehead rested against yours, his eyes closed, and he was breathing just as heavily as you were. His hand cupped your face, gently this time, like he was afraid you might shatter in his hands.

“I’ve wanted this for so long,” Bucky murmured, his voice rough, as though it hurt to hold back for so long.

You blinked, your pulse still racing. “Me too,” You whispered, your voice barely audible, but it was enough.

In that moment, everything made sense. All the confusion, the loneliness, the emptiness you’d both been carrying for so long, it was gone. In its place was something else. Something new. Something unspoken. And you realized then, with chilling clarity, that there was no going back.

You didn’t care about the Avengers anymore. You didn’t care about the missions, the enemies, nor the people you were supposed to protect. The only thing that mattered was Bucky. And now, him and you were tangled so deeply that there was no way out. No way back to who you used to be.

And that’s how it happened. Slowly. Quietly. You became his obsession and he became yours.

[muletia]

Can we get more of mer!smokescreen plzplz

mer!smokescreen x human!reader

here u go anon (after almost two months of dusting in my inbox...)

smokescreen being a brat because I like him as a brat hehe

word count: 700

I can't believe there are so many of you guys...

You feel his presence before you can see him.

Your boat rocks left and right, harder and harder, tossed by a force nearly equal to the ocean itself. It tilts you, throws you forward and then to the sides, so much that you have to grab the edges of the boat just to make sure you won’t end up having an up-close meeting with the water today. You didn’t sail out to the middle of the ocean to go for a swim and waste such a perfect opportunity to catch a few fish.

Your friend, however, had completely different plans for you.

One particularly strong push against the bottom of the boat tilts it so much that your legs give in to the sudden, drastic shift in angle. You fall to the side, clutching the metal edge tightly, your face nearly kissing the churning surface of the water. A surface just as stirred up as your growing irritation toward your underwater buddy.

“Smokescreen!” you call, voice heavy with reproach.

Barely a millisecond later, a huge head emerges from the water right below your face, so close the two of you almost bump foreheads.

Smokescreen does not share your anger. He’s amused, delighted that he finally managed to get your attention after being ignored the whole way to the deep ocean. But now you were finally focusing on him! Not under the circumstances he would have preferred, he’d much rather be showered in affection all day, but what mattered most was that your eyes, gleaming with annoyance, were fixed on him. And Smokescreen wanted nothing more from life.

He greets you by pressing your foreheads together, but you quickly pull your head back. Oh no, you’re not giving him that satisfaction.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” You push his head away with your hand. Or rather, you push your whole body off of his, because the gray mer doesn’t budge an inch. “No kisses for wrecking my boat.”

A pathetic, high-pitched chirp barely moves your angry heart. You ignore it, and once you regain your balance, you reach for your fishing rod. But you don’t get to enjoy the peace for long. Barely at all, in fact.

The lack of a lively response forces Smokescreen to change tactics. Determined to be closer to you, his beloved, if a little grumpy, human mate, he begins climbing up the side of the boat with a very conscious and deliberate intention of hauling himself inside. Placing an enormous amount of faith in your little boat that it won’t break under his considerable weight.

He’s in the middle of swinging his second arm up and already shoving his bulky torso in when you finally notice what he’s up to. And for obvious reasons, you are not thrilled.

“Oh no, no, no! Don’t you dare!”

Smokescreen grins widely, baring all his sharp, pointed teeth in their full glory and clicks twice. Then, to your horror, continues forcing himself into your boat, once again pulling all of your attention solely onto him.

You turn toward him, fighting against the boat’s tilt to keep yourself from falling into the icy, salty water, and grab his forearms, trying to pry them off the side of the boat.

“This is a clingy-mer-free zone” you warn.

But seeing how amused his azure eyes are, how little he cares for all your warnings and scolding, you already know you’re not winning this battle. In fact, you’ve already lost it, the moment you gave him your attention.

You don’t even have time to feel annoyed before Smokescreen, with an incredibly excited chirp, attacks your face with his own. He pushes himself even deeper into the boat, closer to you, and nuzzles into your face, rubbing cheeks, nose, and occasionally covering your whole face with little nose-kisses. All of it accompanied by a cheerful purring. Something like a cat’s, only lower and more piercing, because you can feel it vibrating through your entire body.

“Incorrigible” you say helplessly.

In response, you get the tip of his tongue sticking out, which a second later touches your nose. Just once, one quick lick, but enough to reignite your irritation.

“Impossible…”

But when he rests his head on your lap, looking up at you with a gleam that can only be described as pure adoration, you can’t stop your hand from stroking the soft skin on his temples.

[sweetfwr]

(TEASER!) IN THE HEAT OF THE SUMMER ˒˒ psh

the hot, humid summers of your youth usually meant practicing at the ice rink ‘till you dropped or manning your parent’s video shop. park sunghoon, who lived next door’s summers usually meant delivering newspapers and taking every odd job possible. in the heat of the summer of 1998, your paths finally crossed for the first time.

pairing) news anchor!sunghoon x figure skater! reader

tags) fluff, angst, comedy, slice of life, SLOW BURN, set in 1998-onwards, growing up together, sunghoon is an angsty teenager before he's absolutely down bad, inspired by 2521, happy ending!

wc) SOON

now playing) SUMMER - BROCKHAMPTON

1998

your youth was simple, your naive, 16-year-old days so worry-free of the responsibilities of bills, a career, children, and the nosy press that they blurred together in pure, uncaring bliss, even if you didn’t know it at the time.

on days you weren’t slaving away for hours at the ice rink under the scrutiny of your vicious coach, jumping, spinning, and gliding through the ice like your body weighed nothing then you were manning the counter at your parent’s humble video shop, greeting customers when the chimes on your door sounded and offering promos to those who rented more than two movies at once.

and naturally, manning the counter meant looking out for him, the only son of the park family who lived next door, and the neighborhood’s resident newspaper boy.

not that you’d tried to notice, but he’d leave the house at 6:30 a.m. on his scooter every morning, right when you opened up the video shop before heading off to practice. in the quiet tranquility that came with summer mornings, you exchanged no words, the only thing hanging in the air being the sounds of your keys jangling and park sunghoon’s scooter being set off before he would speed off without a word.

on the days you left for practice and came back later to man the shop when your brother couldn’t in the later hours, you’d find the daily newspaper neatly placed on the doormat or tucked in the doorknob before you picked it up and brought it with you inside the store to go about your work day.

the days when you manned the store in the mornings and your brother in the afternoon, however, were a different story altogether. newspapers were flung—almost violently—onto the glass walls of the store, potted plants out front, or sometimes just the dead center of your feet as you stood sweeping the sidewalk. no smile, no wave, no greeting, just the smack of the folded newspaper as it landed wherever sunghoon pleased and the sharp screech of his scooter’s wheels on asphalt as he sped off like you had wronged him somehow.

slowly but surely, the throws began to feel personal, and you could never seem to figure out why. he’d never given you any solid reason to think he hated you other than the unlucky newspaper placement, and you had never given him any real reason to hate you. but the more he sped by the store in the morning, a bitterness in his posture and a tightness in the way he pressed his lips into a line, you were beginning to think that maybe it wasn’t just bad luck that was causing wads of newspaper to assault your family’s store every morning.

one morning, you decided that you had had enough.

“NOONA!!” your then 14-year-old little brother wailed, bursting into the quiet fog that settled in the video store, a hand to his throbbing head and another wrapping around a newspaper.

“what, wonnie?” you groaned from the counter, initially busy typing something down onto the blocky old computer until jungwon said something that made your blood run cold.

“the newspaper hit me!”

potted plants and the glass right beside your head most mornings were one thing, but park sunghoon chucking a freshly rolled newspaper at your idiotic (precious) baby brother was another thing entirely. you only looked up at him with a fire in your eyes before snatching the newspaper from his hands, wordlessly rushing out of the store and into the morning air.

“nice aim, jerk.” you deadpanned, waving sunghoon’s weapon of choice in his face before he could adjust his bag and scoot away. “my brother’s head? seriously?”

“It was an accident, i was aiming for your face,” he muttered, and you could’ve sworn the tips of his ears turned red as he tried to walk off.

“you do this to everyone in the neighborhood?” “no, just you.”

“then what the hell is your problem with me?” you seethed, shoving the daily paper into his toned chest, to which he took back from you with a rolled eye.

“you wouldn’t understand,” he spit back, a finality in his words that told you he didn’t wish to speak with you any further. and then, without another glare or crude comment, he was off on his scooter once again, his wheels screeching on the concrete as they always did.

you stood there, fists clenched at your sides and heart pounding in your chest from the adrenaline of a confrontation. you didn’t understand, and he sure as hell wasn’t going to explain his unexpected anger towards you.

as much as you hated it, for that day, and that day only, you accepted defeat and wordlessly retreated back into the video shop.

like for tag once released!

© SWEETFWR

[fleetinglyshelved]

Catharsis

I was having an emotion. Like a big overwhelming emotion. It felt bad but good, a weird combination of happy and sad and relieved, like something had been stuck and it wasn’t stuck anymore. Cathartic, okay. This fits the definition of cathartic. It was like the way I’d felt when I killed the Target who threatened Amena and laughed at me because I was upset when I thought ART was dead. Except without the violence, and that only lasted a minute or so, and this seemed like it would go on a while. (System Collapse)

This feeling of "something finally being unstuck" feels to me like something Murderbot has been chasing after for the entire series. It shows in smaller moments like the one it mentions, where it seeks bloody revenge against an imminent threat, or bigger missions, most notably trying to figure out what happened at Ganaka Pit:

On the way here I had shared the recording of what I had found at Ganaka Pit. ART said, This is good news. You were not at fault. I agreed, sort of. I had been expecting to feel better about it. I mostly just felt awful. (Artificial Condition)

It was clearly hoping that finding out the truth, finding out that it hadn't been responsible for the slaughter on a conscious level, would give it that exact kind of lasting closure.

(Alternatively, a self-hating part of it might have almost wanted to find out it had caused everything, so it could feel truly justified in its negative self-view, but that's a different analysis.)

The mission to Milu, finding evidence against GrayCris to support Mensah in her case against them, was another attempt to achieve this sense of closure on a larger scale, and while I do believe it came closest to it when it saved everybody, the thing still hadn't come "unstuck", so it - pun intended - stuck around on Preservation while trying to figure out what it wants.

The survey trip with Arada didn't really seem to give it a sense of fulfillment either, even though I'm sure it was glad it was there to protect everybody. But the mission wasn't a big eye-opener or anything about how great it was to do what it has always done but as itself this time. And sure, a lot of it has to do with the almost disastrous ending to the mission, but even so, it doesn't seem like it has found its purpose. We don't find out anything about what Arada and the others were even studying, because it doesn't care about that.

So it's no wonder it starts the mission at the beginning of System Collapse with an attitude of "Oh well, if it's boring, ART-drone and I can just watch media together." (Obviously, it also has a LOT going on emotionally in this book, but I believe that even if it had been in a better place, it would have gone along with the same sense of "the humans will do their thing, and I'll do my thing if someone or something tries to hurt them".)

And here we are, at the end of the mission. It saved humans from a fate it considers worse than death. It gave two SecUnits a chance to break free, and one returned the favor and helped them escape. It got the humans and ART-drone out alive. It beat a corporation at its own game and helped a central system protect the humans it cares about.

It accomplished something it considers meaningful and important, helping not just humans but also bots and even other constructs, other SecUnits in the process. It's no longer stuck searching for something it might want, it's no longer stuck in old patterns, it has finally found a path to continue walking.

The choice to leave with ART is motivated not only by wanting to keep being with it (❤️), but also a desire to actively support its mission. It finally knows what it wants.

[vvivacious101]

Don't Drink the Water

This episode was an insane study in grief. It's also one of the truest ensemble episodes that 911 has ever put out especially considering this is the tail end of the season and usually these sorts of episodes tend to happen at the beginning of the season.

This episode was like everything I wanted 8x16 to be because finally you have all these characters and they are all struggling in different ways to move forward from Bobby's death.

Chimney has definitely come around and I for one am glad that they decided not to unnecessarily stretch his survivor's guilt storyline because Chimney has a lot to live for. That scene with him confiding in Maddie was a welcome change considering how he was avoiding her last episode. For the most part, Chimney seems to have channelled his grief into fixing his deteriorating relationship with Athena.

Athena is ready to get back to work and as Harry pointed out there are probably clocks that are less predictable. In this episode, Athena mostly seems to be struggling with coming face to face with Chimney who has now become a living reminder of what she lost.

Hen is contemplating Captainship and I really liked to see her struggle with it. On one hand, she is absolutely right that declining a promotion is a clear signal that your career is where it is going to be, and there will be no advancement - this is LITERALLY it but on the other hand, she is also right when she realises that she has a problem delegating tasks and not getting too involved herself. I love it when characters really understand themselves.

Buck & Eddie manage to have an entire episode full of drama just between the two of them. This episode goes really hard when it comes to these two. So, let's dive in!

The opening of this episode is brutal, with the 118 all gathered around to have a meal (which seems to be a memory from Ravi's probie year so app. 4-5 years ago) and Bobby narrating the story of the Full Moon (Creepy AF) [911 S01E07] while everyone is laughing but the laughs feel almost too exaggerated as the scene cuts and you get abject silence as Buck sits alone at the same table in an eerily empty loft of station 118. This cutaway was BRUTAL. Buck is really struggling and this scene just undercut it.

The Eddie, Hen & Karen scene - all I have ever wanted! One of my big criticisms of 8x16 was that it felt like Eddie came back and it mattered to nobody - forget a Buddie reunion which we were definitely robbed of - but where was my 118 firefam reunion?! So, I'm glad that we are seeing Eddie with other members of the 118 because it bears reiterating that they are a family. In a later scene with Athena, Karen is talking about a photo of the 118 taken at the Henren vow renewal ceremony and she says whenever anyone asks me who these people are - I never say that they are my wife's coworkers, I say that that's our family!

Also, that scene is epic because they are discussing Buck and it feels worth mentioning that Buck & Eddie's dynamic seems to be so absorbed by the firefam that they can identify their issues from a mile away. Eddie is worried that Buck is worrying too much and I feel like Eddie's worry over Buck seems to be stemming from the fact that Buck seems to be closing himself off while trying to be there for everyone else. And, then we get the reveal that Eddie got a job at the El Paso fire dept and I love how Karen immediately hones in to ask Eddie - so when are you telling Buck you're leaving?

Another underrated hint that Eddie is worried about Buck is that he has remained in LA for a lot longer than he initially planned, if that doesn't indicate how worried he is about Buck, I don't know what will.

Then we get Buck in a confessional, something he only goes to, to feel closer to Bobby, something he also only needs to do because Bobby is buried in Minnesota. And, it's here that we get Buck's breakdown - Bobby said he would be okay but he's not and instead of being there for everyone else he feels like he is losing them. I'm kind of going to prove Eddie right by making this point but as Eddie himself said - trauma causes us to turn inward. Eddie has been with Buck for however long it has been since the funeral, he has been talking to Hen - considering he was trying to perform a psychological assessment on her, we have seen him talk to Maddie and Chimney in the previous episode. Buck is not alone no matter how much he feels like he is. This is very much a case of Buck feeling isolated because he feels like he is not allowed to process his grief in the same way everyone else, by actually allowing himself to feel it which causes everyone else to be on alert. After all, they all know this is unsustainable and they are just waiting for Buck to crash.

..which leads to the fight. I was not prepared! The tension that is the throughline of that scene was fucking unbearable but it was so well done. It's fucking incredible. Someone compared it to the Loumand scene in IWTV 2x05 and my god, I get it. I don't think we have ever seen Buck & Eddie fight quite like this, the closest we have come to this is when they were undergoing the shortest divorce arc in the history of television ever that played out from S03E05 to E06. And, that fight was nothing like this one!

A tragedy in 97 acts - it bears mentioning that in this scene Eddie and Buck are still in perfect sync as they move around their kitchen! I can't believe we canonically have Buddie cohabiting and we can't pay attention to that because this scene fucking KILLS!

Eddie always says that Buck makes everything about himself - something that has definitely been a common refrain since season 7 at least and there were definitely echoes of this behaviour on Buck's part when Maddie left LA in season 5. So, there is some truth to that but I feel like the reality that Eddie seems to give so much weight to this one flaw in Buck is probably because he has a tendency to do this as well - make it all about him - he definitely did this in season 5 when he learnt that everyone he saved from that helicopter crash has since died. And, in this scene, while Eddie accuses Buck of making everything about himself he does the exact same - he makes everything about himself from blaming Buck to not understanding what it was like to get the call informing him about Bobby's death to letting him know that he can't help but wonder if things would have been different had he been there - making everything about himself while Buck is probably thrust into the realisation that making himself unavailable to feel his own grief is isolating him from identifying it in others as well.

This is followed by Eddie apparently abandoning Buck to go to the airport and I agree with Buck that was jerk behaviour.

But then Buck gets back from work and Eddie is there and I love how he just owns up to the fact that yes, he was being a dick and he was being mean to Buck and he wanted to make amends - so he got CHRISTOPHER!

Literally, all my Chris Buck reunion feels were out in full force. It was so good seeing these two reunite especially since it's been an entire season since they shared a scene together and Buck is finally happy. I can't tell you how much it meant to me that seeing Chris was finally enough to get Buck out of his funk and crack a smile and then Pepa is there and they are having family dinner.

The Buckley Diaz family feels were in the house tonight especially as we move away to see Pepa talking to Buck and comforting him which was definitely not beating the Buckley Diaz family accusations. The show loves to insinuate that Buck is a part of the Diaz family by just casually implying that he knows various members of the Diaz family and is somewhat in the know about what is going on with them. That hug between Pepa and him definitely insinuates that they are closer than you would believe two characters who have only shared screen space some two times in seven years ought to be.

This episode really killed when it comes to Buck & Eddie because seriously where do we go from here - frankly speaking we only have one direction to go and that's UP!!

Also, this episode is not beating the Captain Eddie vibes! I feel like it isn't an insane suggestion considering there is an opening at the 118 and Eddie needs to be back at the 118 - something about those two statements just clicks together.

There was definitely some conversation Eddie had with Chris regarding LA and maybe even Buck because the look Chris gives him while Pepa is hugging Buck seemed loaded!

OH MY GOD! I just realised that in all this excitement I forgot to check out next week's promo - ASDGRSDHTGIUDYIHS!!!! I'll be back!

Okay, WHAT?! I thought we were getting a Buddie trapped storyline instead we get a Chimney and Athena trapped storyline which is fair they do have issues to iron out that could be helped by them being trapped together. Also, Buck & Ravi are trapped with a civilian so good times are ahead surely.

I'm betting on you Ryliver press tour - get me my BUDDIE canon!

[moonwalkingprincess]

Shared Demons Bucky Barnes x nurse reader part 1

Summary: You used to be part of the Avengers, but after Ultron brainwashed you and used you to help destroy Sokovia, the guilt made you walk away. You went back to working as a nurse — the profession you had before the accident that gave you your superpowers.

Steve is asking you to care for the Winter Soldier.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x nurse ex avenger reader

Words: 640

Era: Civil war

The sun was shining through your windows as you were sitting on your couch, wearing comfy clothes and watching your favorite show, sipping on a cup of coffee. Suddenly, you heard your phone ring and you looked at who it was.

It was Steve.

You hesitated for a moment before answering. You hadn’t spoken to any of the Avengers since Sokovia.

"Hey, Steve," you greeted, trying to sound casual.

"Y/N," Steve's voice came through, urgent but calm. "I need your help."

Your heart skipped a beat. "What’s going on?" you asked.

"It’s Sam. He’s hurt. I need a nurse…” Steve paused, clearly choosing his words carefully. His voice sounded different—higher, almost like he wasn’t telling the whole truth. "I know you’re not with the Avengers anymore, but you were one of the best... and we could really use your medical skills right now."

"Why can’t you go into a hospital? This is my free day," you asked.

“Haven’t you watched the news?”

“No,” you said.

“Me and Sam are wanted by the government.”

The words made you drag your hand down your face and press your palm firmly against your forehead in the most exhausted, frustrated facepalm you’d done in months.

“Y/N, please…” he begged.

You swallowed. You hadn’t expected this call. After leaving the team to pursue nursing, you thought your days as an Avenger were behind you. At least you tried to think so. But the thought of Sam being injured—and the nurse in you—wouldn’t allow you to ignore someone in need.

“Text me your location and I’ll be there in five,” you said, and hung up the phone.

You grabbed your first aid kit.

—

You followed the address he had sent you, and it led to an abandoned building in a deserted industrial area. Judging by the old machines scattered around, you guessed it was once a factory. Steve met you at the entrance—he had been hiding behind the door—and silently led you down a hallway to a room further inside.

Sam was there. But he wasn’t injured.

Standing in front of you was the Winter Soldier.

Your heart dropped.

You had fought beside Steve against the Winter Soldier years ago. You remembered him. And as soon as you saw him now, rage built up inside you.

You glared at Steve, fury in your eyes. He looked back at you with an apologetic expression.

“So first, you lie to me. And then you ask me to help the man who tried to kill me years ago.”

“I tried to kill you?” the Winter Soldier said.

You snapped your head toward him. You had never heard him speak before. You honestly didn’t think he even could.

You looked at him closely. His face was full of pain, regret, and shame.

Steve gently took your arm and led you to the corner.

“I’m sorry I lied,” he said. “But I knew you wouldn’t come if I told you it was him. Y/N, he was brainwashed. It’s like they created an entirely different person inside him.”

That made you pause.

You remembered what it was like to be under someone else's control. You had been brainwashed by Ultron once and helped him destroy Sokovia. You knew exactly how it felt.

You gave a small nod and turned back to the man in front of you. He took a small step back—though his arm was trapped in some kind of press machine, so he couldn’t go far.

“You don’t need to be afraid of me,” you said softly.

He looked surprised.

“I know that wasn’t really you.”

Steve stood quietly as he watched you begin treating the injuries on his arm. And for the first time since Steve had met him as the winter soldier… he saw a smile on Bucky’s face.

[lura-valentine]

Hint

World of My Hero Academia / Boku no Hero Academia

Fanfiction with chapters

The chapters will be linked together as soon as they are published

With the exception of Rain and the mysterious man, all characters belong to Kōhei Horikoshi

DabiHawks x Rain

–> To Rain's Profil

Please note that English is not my first language. So forgive me for mistakes

Concept of this fanfiction

Since the final war with the League of Villains, Touya has been dying. The doctors gave him only a few weeks, if at all, a few months, but the stubborn son of fire surprised everyone when he was still alive after 16 years.

He was only a shadow of his former self, trapped by vital machines, but something was keeping him alive, as if there was something else he needed to know...

Overview

Part 1 – Part 2 – Part 3 – Part 4 – Part 5 (W.I.P)

Rains Part

The weather had changed, and thick drops of water rained mercilessly onto the roofs of the city, the rhythmic drumming breaking the silence of the night. Rain landed heavily on one of the taller buildings, her wings trembling from effort and anger. She pulled the soaked hood over her head and staggered forward a few steps, then sank to her knees. Her fingers dug into the rough concrete and a hoarse sound escaped her throat - a mixture of frustration, pain, and the echo of old memories.

Keigo's face, his words, his determination to stand in her way... "If you want Fischer, you’ll have to get past me..." The scene played over and over in her head. His look, that mixture of sadness and strength, had hit her hard. She could never forget him, and she knew that a part of her would never let him go. But why did he stand up for this man of all people? Why couldn't he understand?

Her thoughts were interrupted by a powerful flap of wings. She felt the cold presence before she saw him. The mysterious man landed a few meters behind her, his wings spread threateningly as he looked at her. Drops of water ran down his hood and his turquoise eyes glowed with anger.

"What the hell was that down there?!" His voice was loud, his words piercing the darkness like a knife. "You could have killed him! You had him right in front of you, and yet... nothing. Why did you hesitate?"

Rain took a deep breath before rising to her feet. She turned around slowly, her hands shaking slightly, but her voice was calm and firm as she spoke. "I had my reasons, Kaji."

"Reasons?!" He took a step closer, his gaze icy. "Your 'reasons' almost cost us the entire mission! We had him in our hands, and you... you let some sentimental crap stop you from finishing the job?!"

Rain held his gaze, even though her eyes shone with sadness and tiredness. "I won't let anything stop me, Kaji. I don't make my decisions lightly." Her voice grew cooler. "Perhaps you should learn that not every mission goes perfectly. But no, you don't know any different, do you?"

“What does that mean?” asked Kaji, his voice getting louder, but Rain remained calm.

"You're just like your father," she said, and there was something in her voice that Kaji couldn't quite read - something bitter and painful at the same time. "Impulsive, always angry when things don't go the way you want them to. Do you think that will help you?"

"My father?" Kaji's eyes narrowed and his wings twitched uncontrollably. "You never spoke about him. Not once. And now you're making comparisons like that?"

Rain closed her eyes for a moment, as if trying to organize her thoughts. "Because there was nothing I wanted to talk about, Kaji. Your father was complicated... and I did enough to protect you from the shadows of his past."

"Protect?!" Kaji laughed bitterly, his voice now shaking with emotion. "From what? From the truth? From yourself? Or from what he really was? Tell me, finally tell me who he was!"

Rain was silent. Her hands clenched into fists, but she held his gaze. "You're not ready to know yet."

"Not ready?" Kaji stepped closer, his flames beginning to dance faintly around his hands - blue and ice-cold. "I'm not the little child you can control anymore. I have the right to know. Or are you trying to tell me he was just as much of a coward as Fischer?"

That was when Rain lost it. She took a step toward Kaji, her face inches from his. Her red eyes glowed like hot coals. "Stop saying things you don't know! Your father was many things, but he was never a coward. And you... you're just as stubborn as he is." She breathed heavily, then lowered her voice. "Maybe I should have told you the truth. Maybe I should have told you that he..." She stopped, her voice breaking, and she turned away abruptly.

Kaji was speechless for a moment. It was the first time he had seen Rain like this - broken, vulnerable, unsure. "Mom..." He sounded calmer now, almost gentle. "Then at least tell me why you hesitated with Hawks. Do you know him?"

Rain took a deep breath, as if the words were a heavy weight she had been carrying for years. She turned to him slowly and looked deep into his eyes. Her red eyes were filled with a weary clarity. "I'm sorry, Kaji," she said quietly, her voice rough with all the unspoken feelings. "I'm sorry for keeping the truth from you for so long. I know you're old enough to understand who your father was. You will get your answers, but not here."

Kaji wanted to say something, but he stopped. It was as if he absorbed the weight of her words and it seeped into him.

"For the next step in this mission..." She paused and closed her eyes for a moment, as if preparing for something, "...I would have had to tell you who your father is anyway. The person we are going to now will recognize you immediately and they will ask questions."

Rain looked at the rain falling like little blades on the roofs and then continued. "This person is our only chance to catch Fischer. She is the only one who can still help us."

Kaji nodded, and despite the anger and confusion building up inside him, he knew Rain was right. There was too much at stake for him to continue to argue.

Rain took one last deep breath, then turned to him. Her black wings spread in the cold, damp air. "Ready?" she asked, not hiding her determination, but her eyes betrayed how difficult the moment was for her too.

Kaji, still unsure what exactly to think of this whole drama, nodded. "Yes."

With one last look at the rain-soaked ground, Rain took off, her black wings beating once, and she rose into the sky. Kaji followed her, his bluish, shimmering wings breaking through the rain as he flew by her side into the darkness of the night.

Hawks Part

The rain fell in heavy curtains, turning the city streets into glittering mirrors. The light from the lanterns reflected in the puddles, offering an unreal contrast to the grim reality of the night. Hawks pulled his raincoat tighter around himself as he climbed the wide stairs to the police station. Shoto walked silently beside him, his shoulders slightly tense but his gaze as calm and focused as ever. The old stone walls of the station seemed even more oppressive in the darkness and rain than they already were, and the heavy wooden frame of the front door creaked under Hawks' hand as he opened it.

Inside, it was warmer, but no less bleak. The smell of wet fabric, stale coffee, and old paper hung in the air. Police officers scurried through the corridors with files in their hands, and the low hum of conversation was the background music that permeated everything. Hawks shook himself slightly, water dripping from his coat as he walked purposefully toward reception. Shoto followed him without a word, his footsteps echoing dully on the stone floor.

"I have to see Kenji," Hawks said curtly to the receptionist sitting at a small desk. She just nodded and pointed to the door at the end of the hall.

Hawks knocked twice before entering. The police chief, a tall man with a dog's head and sharp, piercing eyes, sat behind a massive desk covered with reports and files. His posture was as straight-backed and authoritative as ever, but when he saw Hawks and Shoto, he put down the file he had just been looking through and motioned for them to sit down.

"Hawks. Todoroki," he greeted them with a brief nod. His voice was deep and rough, with a certain authority as always. "I assume you're here because of Fischer."

"Exactly," Hawks replied, sinking into the chair in front of the desk. Shoto stood silently, arms folded, watching the exchange.

Kenji took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes. "I have to admit that the situation is... difficult. We have him in custody, but without solid evidence, we cannot keep him for long."

Hawks nodded slowly. "I know there is no evidence at the moment. But we can't just let him go. Fischer has more dirt on his hands than meets the eye. We just have to dig deeper."

Kenji raised an eyebrow. "And what is this assumption based on?"

Hawks leaned forward slightly, his voice becoming more serious. "Someone I trust has made these allegations. She says that Fischer..." He paused for a moment, as if he was having difficulty saying it. "...that he is smuggling children across national borders under the guise of his logistics company."

Kenji stared at him, his eyes narrowing. "These are very serious allegations, Hawks. Who is this 'trustworthy person'?"

Hawks looked briefly at Shoto as if seeking support, but Shoto said nothing, his gaze remained cool and observant. Hawks turned back to Kenji. "Her name isn’t important. What matters is that she doesn't lie. If she says something, she has reasons for it."

Kenji snorted slightly. "Hawks, we both know how this works. Without proof, these are just words. Even if we dig deep into Fischer's past, there is no guarantee that we will find anything."

Shoto, who had been silent until now, took a step closer. "But if he were really innocent, he wouldn't react in such a panic," he said calmly. "Since his arrest, Fischer has done nothing but yell at his lawyer and try to pull strings to get him out.That's not the behavior of someone who has nothing to hide."

Kenji sighed and ran a hand over his face. "I understand your concerns. But this is no longer a heroic matter and we are working on evidence, not gut feeling."

Hawks leaned forward, his gaze burning into the police chief's. "This isn't a question of heroism, Kenji. This is a question of responsibility. You know as well as I do that some people are so good at hiding that they're never caught because no one has the courage to look closely. Fischer is one of those people. And if we let him go now because we don't want to dig, he'll go into hiding."

Kenji studied him for a long moment before grumbling quietly. "Fine. I'll put together a team to look into Fischer's enterprise. But if we don't find anything, Hawks, then he's free. I'm not going to go against the law, no matter how much you trust this person."

Hawks nodded, his expression showing no sign of triumph. "That's all I ask. Dig deep, Kenji. You'll find something."

Kenji looked at him once more before turning to Shoto. "And you? What do you think?"

Shoto shrugged his shoulders almost imperceptibly, but his voice was firm. "I trust Hawks and I think Fischer gives us a lot of reasons not to let him out of our sight."

Kenji stood up and tapped his hand lightly on the desk. "Then I will start the investigation. But remember: without results, this is over."

Hawks also stood up, his coat still slightly damp from the wetness he had brought in. "Thanks, Kenji."

Kenji just nodded and Shoto opened the door before they both stepped out into the hallway. The rain hadn't let up and the blurry points of light from the city could be seen through the windows. Hawks was silent, but his mind was racing.

Hawks closed the door of the police station behind him and a cold draft hit him. The rain had not let up, it still pelted heavily on the asphalt, stretching over the world like an endless curtain. The street lamps cast a dim light on the soaked vehicles parked in the parking lot, and the puddles beneath reflected the dull colors of the sky. Hawks pulled up the collar of his coat and shoved his hands deep into his pockets as he walked down the steps.

Shoto kept pace beside him, his face calm but thoughtful. He said nothing, and Hawks was almost grateful for the silence. There was too much going on inside him and too little he could put into words.

When they got downstairs, they both stood for a moment under the canopy, where the rain wasn't falling directly on them. Hawks leaned his back against one of the pillars and looked at Shoto out of the corner of his eye. "Shall I drive you home?" he finally asked, his voice sounding rougher than usual, almost hoarse.

Shoto shook his head without looking at him. His hands were in the pockets of his coat and his eyes seemed to be following the rain that was falling in endless streaks. "No, thank you. I prefer to walk. I... want to think a bit."

Hawks raised an eyebrow, a hint of curiosity in his eyes. "Thinking? About what?"

Shoto hesitated for a moment before answering quietly, "About that man. The one with the blue ice flames." He lifted his gaze to meet Hawks’s with quiet intensity. "He was strong... dangerous. But something about him seemed... familiar to me."

Hawks nodded slowly, his eyes moving to a dark spot in the distance. "Yes... He reminded me of someone too." His voice became even quieter, almost like a whisper. "But sometimes it's better not to pursue such thoughts too deeply. They often lead to places you don't want to go."

Shoto let the words sink in for a moment before turning away. "Maybe. But I feel like I can't ignore these thoughts. Something about him... it won't let me go." He turned back to Hawks, his gaze piercing. "Thanks for offering to drive me home. We'll keep in touch about Fischer."

"Sure," Hawks said with a faint smile that didn't reach his eyes. "Take care, Shoto."

"You too," Shoto replied shortly before turning away and walking out into the rain. His dark cloak quickly became heavy from the wetness, but he walked away with firm steps, his silhouette slowly disappearing into the darkness.

Hawks stood there a moment longer, water droplets sliding along the edges of his coat, watching Shoto's figure disappear into the hazy mist. Then he exhaled quietly and turned toward his car.

The drive home was silent. The rain drummed on the roof of the car, the streets were empty, and the city lights passed by like blurred memories. Hawks held his hands loosely on the steering wheel, but his thoughts were far away. He saw Rain's face again, the determination in her eyes, but also the sadness that she could never completely hide.

When he finally reached the underground parking garage of his apartment building, the weather felt like a curse that had followed him all the way home. The garage door slowly closed behind him, and the crackling sound was muffled as he turned off the engine and got out. His footsteps echoed on the cold concrete floor, and he pushed the elevator button with a tired finger.

The elevator ride was short, yet it dragged like a lifetime. The mirror in the cabin showed his face, marked by tiredness and something he couldn't quite put his finger on - or didn't want to.

When he unlocked the door to his apartment, the silence was almost oppressive. Hawks took off his shoes and left them carelessly next to the door. The jacket of his suit landed on a nearby chair, its soaked corners leaving small marks on the wood.

He shuffled into the kitchen and switched on the light, which cast a cold white glow over the countertops. His fingers found the switch of the coffee machine as if by themselves, and the familiar whir of the machine filled the room.

Without waiting for the coffee, he went into the living room. The large window front offered a view of the rainy city, but Hawks paid no attention to it. His steps led him to the simple pedestal above the fireplace.

With a slow movement, he unfastened the sword from his belt and lifted it onto the pedestal. His fingers lingered on the scabbard for a moment, as if it had a weight of its own that was more than just metal.

"I miss you," Hawks murmured, his voice barely more than a whisper. The sound was lost in the steady sound of rain hitting the window panes. The room remained cloaked in shadow, lit only by the faint shimmer of city lights bleeding through the rain-streaked windows.

"I miss you too, Keigo." The words were quiet, almost timid, but they hit him like a thunderclap.

Hawks froze. His heart skipped a beat, only to then thunder in a wild, uncontrollable rhythm. His thoughts exploded, racing around like birds suddenly startled from sleep. This couldn't be happening. This shouldn't be happening. His apartment was locked. How could—

Slowly, almost hesitantly, he turned around. Every muscle in his body was tense, as if he were about to fight at any moment. But what he saw took his breath away.

She stood on the threshold between the hall and the living room.

Rain.

The first impression was like a punch to the gut. Its outline was familiar – far too familiar for his heart not to react to it immediately. She looked more mature, and her shoulders now visibly bore the weight of years. But her face... her eyes... those deep red, intense eyes that glowed even in the twilight – they remained the same.

Hawks said nothing, he couldn't say anything. The words caught in his throat, frozen in the heat of the emotions coursing through him.

Rain took a tentative step forward. Her arms hung indecisively at her sides, as if unsure whether to wrap themselves protectively around herself or reach out to him.

"You..." She cleared her throat softly, her voice shaky, nervous. "You didn't lock your balcony door again, Keigo."

A faint, almost apologetic smile crossed her lips, but vanished immediately. "I... we stood outside for a while. I didn't know if I should really go in, but... I wanted to talk to you."

Hawks didn't move. He just stared at her, as if she might vanish into smoke at any moment, like a memory too beautiful.

"I..." Rain inhaled, her voice vibrating with the pressure of emotion. "I'm sorry. For just leaving. For leaving you... and Dabi alone. I should have explained it to you, I—"

A beep suddenly broke the tense silence. The coffee maker in the kitchen chimed in with a shrill sound, tearing Hawks out of his trance.

His head jerked to the side, then back to Rain. Something inside him broke – a dam he'd held for 16 years.

Without another word, without even thinking about it, he walked toward her. With two firm steps he stood directly in front of her. His arms wrapped around her. Strong, desperately searching for support.

Rain gasped in surprise, her lips parted, but no sound came out. She felt his heartbeat pounding against her chest – felt his fingers clawing at her back, as if he were afraid she might vanish into thin air again.

"You're back..." Hawks stammered hoarsely, his face pressed against her shoulder, his voice fragile, barely a shadow of what it once was. "You're really back..."

Rain stood stock still, overcome by the force of his emotions. Then, slowly, she put her arms around him. Hesitantly at first, almost shyly. But when she felt the trembling in his body, heard the pain in his voice, she held him tighter.

Tears welled in her eyes, burning hotly as she realized what this moment meant.

He had missed her as much as she had missed him.

From the shadows of the hallway, hidden between darkness and dim light, two turquoise-blue eyes flashed.

Kaji stood motionless in the darkness of the hallway leading to the entrance. He didn't speak a word and barely dared to breathe for fear of being discovered.

The scene before him felt unreal, and it punched him in the gut.

He had never seen his mother like this before. Not so... vulnerable, never so lost.

Rain Black had always been a force of nature to him—unflappable, cool, and calculating, with eyes that never trembled even in the darkest hours. She had taught him never to show weakness. Never to trust too much, and certainly not to love unless you were ready to bear the pain of loss.

But now she stood there... looking as if she would break at any moment... wrapped in the arms of a man Kaji didn't know. Hawks – Keigo Takami.

Of course he'd heard of Hawks – the former hero who once soared the skies with his wings. The man who lost his Quirk in the war against All For One and saved countless lives.

But no one had told him that this man had once lost his heart to Rain. Or that he was part of that repressed chapter that also included his father.

The weight of this realization pressed heavily on his chest. It was as if a lost mosaic was finally coming together – piece by piece, in slow, painful clarity.

A soft creaking of the wooden floorboards made him wince. Slowly, almost hesitantly, Rain moved.

She didn't completely break the embrace, but took a half step back, just enough to meet his eyes. Her hands remained on his chest, as if seeking support, her gaze boring into his.

"I..." she began, her voice rough, as if covered in dust after all these years of silence. "I wanted to come back, Keigo. I tried, honestly."

Her lips trembled, but she forced herself to continue. "But I couldn't. Back then... The League, the heroes, the war... It would have been too dangerous to come back, and I had to—"

Her voice trailed off, as if she had to pause for a moment to find the right words between tears and grief.

"I had to protect him.”

Last Part <– | –> Next Part (coming soon)

Beta Reader

@doumadono

My moral supporters

@tiny-roki-todoroki | @alexandhisstuff | @doumadono | @unhinged-bratty-boy | @within-eyesight | @hiding-inner-dabi | @kittenl4

@ahahahhaha @isabeauwolf

I mention accounts that my works ❤️ and 🔄. If anyone no longer wishes to be mentioned, please let me know.

[gunilslaugh]

Chapter 7: A Flip Of A Coin

Part of my To All The Boys I've Loved Before Series

WC:~1.6k

“Heads, Jiseok. Tails, Jooyeon.” With that you toss the coin into the air. 

You catch the coin in your hand, fingers enclosing it in your palm. The cool metal almost feels like it’s burning against your skin. You stare at your enclosed palm. Were hoping that it landed on a certain side? You take a deep breath as you slowly begin to uncurl your finger you realize that you were hoping that the coin landed on a certain side. A smile graced your face when you saw that that side up the coin was facing up in your palm. 

“This is weird,” you remark with a light laugh. Your hands make a small gesture at Gunil and Jungsu who sit around the small table with you. It had been about a week since you realized who your heart beated just slightly different for. You haven’t told him yet though. Leaving either of them waiting to hear your answer. 

“What? Never thought you would hang out with the two of us?” Gunil jested. 

“No,” you laugh. “Honestly once I started college I was sure I wouldn’t see the two of you ever again. Then even after talking to you both last week I didn’t expect to receive a message asking to hang out before you guys leave town.” 

“Honestly we weren’t really sure if you’d accept,” Jungsu said. 

“No reason not to,” you shrugged. 

“Have you decided yet?” Gunil asked. You knew what he was referring to. If you had picked between Jiseok and Jooyeon yet. 

“I have,” you answered. 

“Well?” he pressed. The two of them looked at you expectantly. 

“...Not saying,” you said cheekily. 

“That’s not fair. Why not?” Jungsu complained. 

“I haven’t even told him yet. Why would I tell you two?” you replied. 

“You haven’t told him yet? Why?” They both look at you shocked. 

“Because telling him also means having to tell the other one that it’s not him and I don’t want to hurt him,” you say. A sympathetic look takes over Gunil’s and Jungsu’s faces. 

“Rejecting people can suck. It is inevitable in this case though. You can’t hold off forever,” Jungsu says. 

“I know,” you sigh. “I feel sad enough just thinking about it. How am I supposed to tell him?”

“Write him a letter,” Gunil stated, resulting in you sending a glare at him.

“I’m never writing a letter again in my entire life thank you.” Even if everything has almost worked out now. A part of you can’t help, but resent those letters. Both Gunil and Jungsu laugh at your dramatic insistence. 

“I’m sure you’ll figure it out,” Gunil said. 

“Yeah, you can do it,” Jungsu agreed. 

“Thanks,” you tell them. 

It felt like your heart was in your throat. It was even harder to say than you thought it would be. You looked at him from where he sat beside you, looking up at the sunlight that peeked through the tree leaves. 

“Jooyeon,” you called him. He looked at you, letting out a small hum. 

“Yeah?” You take a moment, looking at the features of his face. Then letting your eyes drift down to where his hand lays on the ground in the middle of you both. You want to grab it, but you refrain from doing so, eyes lifting back up to meet his. 

“I fingered out my heart,” you say. It takes him a couple seconds to realize what you’re talking about. Once it clicks he feels his heart rate pick up. Though there’s just something in your eyes that makes him think he knows what you’re about to tell him. 

“It’s Jiseok isn’t it?” It hurts for him to say it. He can’t say that he’s surprised though. He knew there was something that lingered between you two. No one even questioned that lie he told about you guys back in highschool. Maybe he should have known then that ultimately you and Jiseok would end up together. 

“Yeah, it is. I’m sorry, but please don’t think that my feelings for you were a mistake or that I was just confused. I really did like you Jooyeon,” you tell him, taking his hand this time. Jooyeon needed that. He needed to hear you say that you liked him. That the girl he spent so many years silently loving did actually return his feelings. At least at one point in time you did. Even if it’s not anymore. 

“Thank you.” He gives your hand a squeeze. 

“Why are you thanking me?” You didn’t understand him. You just rejected him, yet here he was thanking you. 

“For liking me and writing me that letter. I know you probably hate them, but without them I don’t think we ever would have gotten here. I don’t know if I ever would have been able to tell you my feelings without all this happening. Even if I’m not the one I’m still thankful that you get to know how I truly feel about you,” he told. 

“That’s true. If the letters hadn't gotten out I would still probably be ignoring my feelings,” you said. 

“You haven’t told Jiseok yet right?” he checked. You shake your head, letting out a hum. “Then can I hug you?” he asked. 

“Yeah,” you smile, opening up your arms. In return Jooyeon wraps his arms around you, hooking his head over your shoulder. You let your arms come to rest around his frame. The pair of you stay like that for a while. It feels bittersweet. Almost as if you're saying goodbye to feelings that could have been. When the two of you pull away Jooyeon decides to be the bravest he’s ever been. He presses a kiss onto your forehead. He knows it’s the only chance he’ll get. 

“I should punch you for that,” you jokingly say. 

“I regret nothing,” he states. Then laughter comes from either of you and you know that you’ll be ok, you can't get rid of him, just like he said. 

“So is this just a coincidence or did you cave and finally ask y/f/n for us to have another shoot together?” Jiseok questioned as he adjusted his rolled up sleeve. 

“I really wish people would stop bringing up the contents of those letters and for the record this is just a coincidence,” you state. You were still yet to tell Jiseok that he’s the one. You were planning on telling him very soon though. 

“I’m not complaining either way. I’ll take any excuse to hold you in my arms,” he says, pulling you closer to him by your wrists. 

“Jiseok!” You pushed his chest.

“We’re ready for you,” your friend notified you both. They guide the two of you to set. There’s a simple white backdrop, but there some black pillars layed out that add contrast as well as match Jiseok’s black button down. There’s also some scattered red rose petals that match with your red dress.

“Ok, let’s start with you two facing each other,” the photographer tells. You and Jiseok turn to face one another. “Wrap your arms around her lower back,” they told Jiseok, to which he does with ease. “And you place your hands on his shoulders. Then both of you look at the camera,” they instructed. You place your hands on his shoulder. Both of you briefly lock eyes before you turn your head to look at the camera. You can feel your heartbeat against your chest. 

“Perfect!” The photographer called after a flash of lights. “Now look at each other,” they said. The two of you turn your heads, so that your eyes meet. Your breath hitches as you gaze into his eyes. He pulls you just a touch closer. 

“You two have such great chemistry,” the photographer praises, snapping multiple shots. “Rest your foreheads together,” they instruct. “Move your hands up to hold behind his neck and you can slide your hands a bit further up her back.” You move your hands up behind his neck, lightly letting your fingers brush through the hair that lies on the back of his neck. While Jiseok glides his hands up higher on your back. Your foreheads gently meet. Either of your breaths ghosting across each other’s faces.

“Jiseok,” you whisper.

“Yeah?” he whispered back. His eyes are looking at you intently. 

“Heads you win,” you say with a smile pulling at your lips. 

“Are you serious?” His hands hold you more firmly. 

“Yes.” You bump your nose with his. The camera snaps at the perfect moment to capture the bright smile that erupts on his face. He finally had the girl that he had been in love with for years. 

After the shoot Jiseok crushes you in a back hug. “Who are you to confess during a shoot when I could hardly do anything about it?” He presses a kiss to your cheek. A happy giggle escapes you. 

“I realized that I liked you during a photoshoot, so it seemed like a nice time to confess too. Full circle kind of thing,” you say. 

“How romantic of you,” he said. 

“Plus it made for a great picture.” You pull out your phone and show your lock screen, displaying the photo of the moment you told him that he was the one. Jiseok feels his heart swell seeing the two of you on your phone screen. 

“Yeah, it did,” he agrees. He adjusts his hold on you, pulling you even closer against him.

“Jiseok we can’t walk like this,” you voice as you both are trying to walk through the parking lot. 

“Fine,” he sighs. He reluctantly lets you go, but he’s quick to grab your hand in his instead. “Better?”

You look down at your interlaced hands, up his arm and at him. Seeing how his eyes are sparkling as he looks at you. Feeling the comforting warmth of his hand. 

“Perfect,” you smile. He smiles back.

<- Prev Next ->

taglist: @purplelady85 @gingerjunhan @chewednails @ezlynkisses @mon2sunjinsuver @mxlly143 @seungseung-minmin @junhanism @bee-the-loser

[blade-that-was-broken]

Wrath and Ruin

Reunions Part 1

With the fear for his family and the loan sharks previously on his tail, Floyd runs back to the Troll Kingdoms, entering from the far side of Pop territory and he eventually makes it to Pop Village. They aren’t quite as loud as in canon, and have a tendency to hide more but the forest is protective of them and Floyd. When he makes it to Pop Village, Floyd is reunited with Clay. 

Floyd is relieved to see a brother. Since it is the middle of the day when he finds Clay, he thinks Branch might be in school so they talk. They have a reunion and Clay talks about what happened and the escape, careful about the news about Branch. Floyd tells him of his old bandmates and the letter he received about the destruction of the pop trolls and the war. He doesn’t tell him everything about his history. 

Clay actually doesn’t know about the war itself. Eventually, he is forced to confess about Rosiepuff and Branch. Floyd is floored to the point that he goes gray and gets into a depressive state for weeks. Clay takes care of him and as months go by, Floyd gets better but the blame nearly crushes him. Don’t know whose idea it is but the brothers decide they need to tell Spruce. Floyd had traveled a bit with him. With the route they take, it leads them near the troll tree where they find Bergentown entirely abandoned and in ruins. The tree is decimated. 

They are stunned and freaked out. It is here they meet a Funk Troll and he speaks of the tale of the Rock attack and how everyone believes nearly all pop trolls are dead. He inquires about other pop trolls but Clay keeps a little quiet on it. He’s paranoid. 

“Are there any other survivors?” Floyd asked with a frown. 

“A couple. One, at least,” the funk troll frowned. “But not really, sorry, no.” 

As they talk, Floyd falls into a hole that is kind of hidden which ends up being a tunnel. It goes the opposite way of the escape tunnels so they think perhaps there are more survivors. All three of them decide to follow it. The tunnel is long and the Brozone bros don’t know what made it. The funk troll tells them it was probably an armadillo bus but the boys don’t know that is. So during the travels, Floyd and Clay learn a bit more about the war - the initial start and how Rock eventually got the upper hand. They come to a collapsed end and things start to rumble. They think it is a dangerous armadillo bus and panics. The funk troll gets them out and to the surface with a gadget he has. “It’s not what it’s made for but it works, I guess.” 

Since getting out of the hole, they are out of Pop territory and for a while, don’t know where they are. They eventually find a town and go inside but then are almost arrested by Rock Trolls that control the town on suspicion of being pop trolls, however they are beforehand found by Spruce, who manages to hide them away in the home he has made for himself. 

Spruce looks a bit different, having painted and possibly tattooed himself a bit to appear more similar to those who has adopted the subgenre of. Spruce - Bruce - has been living under the guise of a subgenre for well over a year because pop trolls are hunted. He’s still learning about how things are working in this new world and regime. He knows a bit about what happened to the tree. The reunion is sweet and joyful once they get to safety and there are plenty of hugs. 

He gets to explain what happened to him - about Vacay Island and then how Brandy saved him when Rock trolls thought he was a pop troll. And here, he has been living for quite some time, trying to keep under the radar. He talks a bit about how a war seemed to be kind of starting up but they live kind of out of the way, so it takes time for information and communication to get to them. Spruce says he also knows about what is said to have happened to the Pop trolls and the tree. 

Floyd tells him that he saw what was left of the tree. Although considering the news about how Pop trolls seem to be hunted, Clay and Floyd don’t say anything about the other pop trolls in the hidden village (they’d probably tell Bruce later, in confidence). However, they do tell of their grandmother’s fate… as well as Branch. 

And that night, they mourn together. 

In the morning, over breakfast with Floyd and Clay’s funk troll friend as well as Brandy, the brothers start speaking of their oldest brother and what to do about trying to find him. No one knows where any other pop trolls are. He could be hiding like Bruce or maybe he was hiding alone in the mountains - after all, he wanted to go to the Neverglades. But the moment they mention John Dory’s name, they are given crazed looks. 

The funk troll is shocked into silence. Brandy spins around and shushes them immediately. The brothers are confused as she tells them to quiet down. “You don’t speak that name!” 

“Why not?”

Brandy explains that one can be arrested for even mentioning that, specific, name, on suspicion of collaboration. They ask why, of course. Before she can try to explain her side, the Funk troll says he’s a criminal, probably the most wanted troll in the Kingdom. You think Rock Trolls are terrible? John Dory is far worse. “He’s a criminal,” the funk troll stated, flatly. “You think Rock trolls do terrible things? John Dory is worse. He finds you? You’re never seen again.” 

He continues to insinuate John is a murderer but Brandy refutes it and tells them John is bringing back the war - rebellion. The brothers are still confused but Brandy tells them a story of one of the most well known soldiers from the start of the war - a near feral pop troll. Some of it is fake, of course, and some rumor. She tells them he has become a dagger in Thrash’s ribs, destroying convoys, guerrilla tactics and rescuing prisoners. 

Although the funk troll tries to reiterate that anyone who comes across him is never seen again and probably dead, Brandy insists they are taken to a safe haven. A place of peace where people can live in peace and sing their own songs without worry of becoming zombies. 

“Do you know how we can find him?” 

“You can’t find him.” 

“Why not?” 

“You can’t find him. No one can/No one can find him - he finds you.” 

And the brothers are just… so confused, understandably so, although relieved that John is alive. And then, the door is bust down - the Rock Trolls discovered the ruse.

Next Up: Journey

[benevolenterrancy]

("Always. Continuously. With increasing apprehension, and decreasing hope. I will love you if I never see you again, and I will love you if I see you every Tuesday. I will love you as a corpse loves the beak of the vulture. I will love you no matter what happens to you, and no matter how I discover what happens to you, and no matter what happens to me as I discover this." -- paraphrased from The Beatrice Letters, Lemony Snicket)

[skunkes]