#you can tell i haven't written her in a while since i haven't made her a happy icon banner yet lmao

[immobiliter]

@undyingrogue sent a meme: ❛ i’m trying to fix your hair, so hold still. ❜ Martha

       “ You, fix my hair? Take a look at your own, mister. ” Laughing and out of breath as she was, Martha only wished that Jack was in better range for her to reach up and teasingly mess up his hair to match her own wind-swept look. As it was, with their height difference she'd have to jump up to even hope to reach him, and she was too knackered from their sprint across Cardiff town centre for that. “ I haven't run like that since the Doctor. ” She was practically beaming at him though, the adrenaline still pumping hot and fast through her veins. “ I missed it. ”

[hard-core-super-star]

push me on the counter, call me princess [W.Maximoff; N.Romanoff]

pairing: dom!wanda maximoff x sub!reader x dom!natasha romanoff

summary: you and wanda develop a connection you definitely shouldn't have with someone in a relationship. unbeknowst to you, it's all part of their plan.

warnings: PURE SMUT, MINORS DO NO INTERACT -> mentions of cheating! [no actual cheating, though! wandanat have an agreement, R doesn't know about it until things get spicy]; mommy + daddy kink; nipple play; impact play; wanda using her powers to hold R down; fingering [R receiving]; oral [Nat receiving]; twinges of humiliation; degradation + praise; nat's a little mean but we love her for it; use of the term 'slut'; probably more but i forgot

wordcount: 3.3k

a/n: so...i'm technically not doing anything official for kinktober this year because school is kicking my butt already BUT i have a few ideas for some very filthy smut fics so i'll be posting them this month. i haven't written for wandanat in a minute so i hope i did them justice. please let me know your thoughts, i hope you enjoy <3

* * * * * * *

It was supposed to be a one time thing.

That's what you told Wanda when she pushed you against the farthest wall in some dingy, badly-lit, New York bar.

The two of you had come back from a long, draining, mission and, instead of staying at the Compound and actually resting, you decided to go out and get drunk to let off some steam. The mission had technically been a success, but it had also been a pain in the ass...and in the shoulder, thanks to the knife wound you'd received.

So, yeah, maybe going out wasn't the best idea in the first place.

In your defense, it was borderline impossible to say no to the witch. Mainly because she was very convincing when she wanted to be, but also because of your massive, and borderline ridiculous, crush on her.

To make matters worse, Wanda was pissed off at Natasha for...something and you ended up taking the place of a supportive partner.

It would have been fine had the drinks in your system not made your inhibitions lower significantly, which rendered you helpless against the green-eyed woman of your dreams. Then again, it's not like you were particularly against that idea in the first place.

Maybe that made you a horrible person.

Maybe that made Wanda a monster.

But how could she be one when she whispered the sweetest words in your ear while taking you over the edge and destroying you in the most pleasurable of ways? How could there be anything wrong about her soft caresses and gentle smiles?

A part of you knows the answer. It's wrong because the witch's heart isn't yours. Or worse, because someone else's heart belongs to the witch.

Because for all their problems and arguments, Wanda and Natasha love each other. At the very least, they tolerate each other enough to stay together.

And you don't fit into their relationship.

You shouldn't.

But Wanda isn't a person you can just ignore.

She makes that perfectly clear no less than a week after your little "mistake".

You're in the kitchen at the Compound, eating some leftovers and scrolling through your phone to keep yourself occupied, when Wanda walks in. You don't need to look at her to know she's pissed off. Her energy is way too heavy to mean anything else.

"Hey, Wands," you say, barely looking up from your phone out of fear of falling under her spell once more.

She walks over to you, leaning against the counter and silently watching you for a second. Her silence honestly scares you, but you don't question her yet. You know better than that.

"You've been avoiding me," she says, her voice soft yet not gentle. "Why is that?"

A shiver runs down your spine at the question. 

You know you can't lie to her, she's a freaking mind reader, but you can't exactly tell her the truth. You've both been trying to ignore it since the morning you woke up tangled together in her bed.

A bed she shares with someone who isn't you.

"I've been busy," you reply with a shrug. "Kate's been forcing me to train every day."

Clearly, that's the wrong answer, considering the tilt of her head.

Yup. You're fucked now.

"Is that so? I didn't realize you two were such good...friends."

Wanda pushes herself off the counter, taking slow, calculated, steps until she's standing behind you. If you weren't so focused on keeping your voice steady, you might have been able to guess what her plan in.

"Well, we both love annoying Clint and making Yelena mad."

She hums in response as her arms wrap themselves around you, pulling you back until you're firmly pressed against her. 

The action almost makes you fall off your stool. You somehow stay put, though, even as every fiber of your being tells you to leave. The harsh truth is that you don't want to leave.

You want her so badly that the consequences don't seem to matter.

Nothing matters but her.

Which is exactly what she wants.

"You should be careful with the little archer," she says, her hands not so subtly caressing your sides. "You know she's just going to use you then throw you away when she's bored."

The irony in her words isn't lost on you.

You open your mouth to let her know that when her hands move up and brush against your chest. It takes all your willpower to stop yourself from gasping.

"Wanda," you hiss. "We're in the middle of the kitchen."

"Relax, detka," she whispers into your ear, your body instantly obeying her words. "You know I won't let anyone see."

"Do I?" you reply. "Because it seems exactly like something you'd enjoy."

The witch chuckles despite herself. "That's true but you're not the only trying to keep things a secret."

You know her words should make you feel worse about this whole thing but right now, they only serve to turn you on. As messed up as it is, there's something exciting about the situation. 

About how much Wanda wants you.

So, even though you know you should push her away, you lean back against her, allowing her hands to explore your body however she wishes.

Your obedience (if you can even call it that) is instantly rewarded by the other woman. Her hands sneak their way under your shirt, her fingers drawing teasing shapes on your warm skin as she makes the journey upward.

"You're such a good girl for me, baby," she mumbles almost absent-mindedly. "Letting me use you like this. Letting me play with you whenever I want."

A part of you wants to put up a fight. To show her you have a bigger backbone than she realizes. That you're able to switch the tables on her whenever you want.

Unfortunately, that part of you goes quiet the second her fingers find your nipples. "Look at you, all ready for me, huh?"

"Shut up," you mumble as your cheeks heat up.

Your words of defiance earn you a sharp pinch to your already sensitive nipples. "Watch your mouth, sweetheart."

It's impossible to stop your back from arching as the leftover sting rushes through your system. You'd learned the hard way that Wanda could either be the sweetest or the most unforgivable lover. In a way, it made being with her all the more exciting...and unpredictable.

Then again, you can't pretend you don't like it. If you didn't, you would have never gotten mixed up with her in the first place.

"Sorry," you whisper, not sounding particularly sincere.

If Wanda notices, she doesn't point it out and instead goes right back to playing with your chest, squeezing and pinching your nipples as she pleases.

Her actions only serve to make you more and more desperate for her. It's almost embarrassing how good she is at reading you. At knowing exactly what buttons to push to turn you into a shaking, pleading mess.

A part of you knows it's thanks to her powers that she can read your desires so well, but you ignore the thought for now. You could beat yourself up over all this later, right now, you had a very important task ahead of you.

"You're eager today," she teases, her eyes zeroing in on the slight movement of your hips. "Did you miss me that much?"

You're not sure why you're in such a defiant mood today but your mouth moves way faster than your thoughts. "Yeah, Kate was too busy today."

You don't see the scarlet that begins to overtake her eyes since you have your back to her. You miss the warning signs until she uses her magic to bend you over the counter, keeping your hands behind your back.

"You're going to regret talking to me like that," she says, holding you down easily thanks to her magic.

It's obvious you should apologize and yet you remain as composed as you possibly can given the situation. As stupid as it is, you're still mad at her for putting you in this situation.

Out of the two of you, she was the one who was in the wrong. She was the one fucking up her relationship just because she was upset with her girlfriend. And she had the audacity to pull you down with her.

To make you like it.

You couldn't place all the blame on her and yet you did it anyway. As if that would somehow fix the entire situation.

Her hand comes down on your ass before you can make your predicament worse. The sudden sensation makes you jump, the leftover sting taking over your mind.

"Wanda." Your attempt to sound mad falls completely flat since your voice is far too breathless for it to be convincing.

She spanks you again. Once. Twice. Each time striking both harder and faster.

"Try again, detka," she tells you, her voice unforgiving. "And then maybe, I'll go easy on you."

She won't.

You know she won't. But the idea that she could is more than tantalizing enough.

Although, then again, it wasn't like you didn't enjoy calling her by her beloved title.

"Mommy," you whisper, your voice sounding way too loud in the empty kitchen.

You don't need to be looking at her to see the proud grin that takes over her features.

This is the real reason why she wants you. Why she likes being with you. Because she doesn't need to fight you to get you to submit to her every whim.

"Good girl." Wanda's hands toy with the waistband of your pants. "Tell me what you want."

You allow the silence to drag on for a second longer than necessary. You both know you won't deny her, you can't, but that doesn't mean you can't keep her guessing. 

Maybe then she'll grow tired of you and stop using you so carelessly.

"Want you to touch me...please, mommy."

You half expect her to drag the moment out until you can't hold yourself back from begging for more. For her.

She doesn't, though, because unbeknownst to you, she's playing a different kind of game with you today.

Wanda uses her powers to undress you, barely giving you a second to register just how vulnerable she's leaving you. You know no one will walk in on you two, she promised you that much, but that doesn't make it any less scary...and thrilling.

"Look at you," she coos, her fingers spreading your slick folds. "So wet and I've barely even touched you. Such a needy thing, aren't you, sweetheart?"

It's embarrassing how hard your walls clench around pure air from the mere tone of her voice. It's that intoxicating mix between degrading and sweet that you want everything she's willing to give you.

"Yes, mommy," you whimper.

"Oh, I know," she says, pushing the tip of her index finger into your tight cunt. "She's such a good girl, isn't she?"

Your eyebrows furrow in confusion but her powers hold you down and stop you from turning to look at her. Your question is answered before you can even ask it, though, as a certain pair of black boots make their way into your field of vision.

"I'm not sure." The sound of Natasha's voice sends a shiver down her spine. "She looks like a desperate slut to me."

Wanda stops you from answering, thanks to her powers. "Oh, come on, Nat, don't be mean. Look how eager she is to be played with."

The redhead rolls her eyes. "That just proves my point."

The witch laughs, taking the moment to sink her finger deeper into your pussy, relishing the wet sounds that fill the kitchen. You're more than a little humiliated, but there's nothing you can do to stop it. Worse, there's nothing you can do to deny how wet the situation is making you.

How desperate you are for more.

Wanda knows. Of course, she knows. It's partly because of her powers and partly because she knows your body far too well. And because she knows you so well, she gives you a chance to call the whole thing off before it even truly starts.

"What's your color, y/n?"

It would be so easy to say "red" and stop everything. You know there would be zero judgement. That despite whatever agreement they've come to, they'd both take a step back and make sure you were okay.

And yet...you can't seem to form the word.

Because, as much as you don't want to admit it...you want this.

"Green..." you whisper.

Wanda leans in, taking your mind off of Natasha's eyes on you, and peppers soft kisses across your back. The softness of her lips is a stark contrast to her previous demeanor and it helps calm down your speeding nerves.

The Russian steps forward, her hand cupping your face and gently tilting it backward until your eyes meet. "You want this, don't you, darling?"

You don't want to admit it but you can't bring yourself to lie to her. "Yes...I want this."

The sharpness in her eyes fades away slightly. There's still an edge of annoyance in her features but she looks almost as turned on as you feel. "Good girl."

Your walls clench around Wanda's finger and she chuckles before starting to move in and out of your tight heat. "I think she likes you, Nat."

"Shut up."

Wanda adds another finger into the mix, expertly stretching you out and drawing out a long moan from your parted lips. "That's it, just give in, sweetheart. Doesn't it feel better when you stop thinking so much?"

It's startling how right she is.

She doesn't wait for an answer this time, though, she simply speeds up her movements, curling her fingers in the way that drives you crazy. The pleasure slowly overwhelms your mind, removing all other thoughts until all you can focus on is how good it all feels. How much you like submitting to them like this.

"Mommy..." You whine, watching the way Natasha's eyes darken in response to your sounds. "Please...need more."

"Aw, are two fingers not enough for you, baby?" The fake pity in her tone turns you on more than it should. "Does your greedy pussy need more?"

You nod desperately, ignoring the humiliation that lingers in your every move.

All that earns you is another laugh from Wanda and an eye roll from Natasha.

The redhead steps back from you, causing you to whimper, before her hands move to her belt. Her eyes remain on yours as she starts removing her garments, slowly revealing the red strap-on resting between her legs.

Your lips part almost instantly once you catch sight of the full size of it and just how incredibly dominant it makes Natasha look. You shouldn't be surprised considering what everyone, including Wanda, always say about her. Then again, seeing is believing.

"So fucking eager, aren't you?" You know the Russian is technically making fun of you, but you can't help feeling a bit proud of yourself for the grin on her face.

She steps forward, her hands coming up to tangle in your hair and guide you forward. There's something weirdly soft about her movements, about the way she takes her time with you. Maybe, just maybe, she likes you more than she's let on.

You wrap your lips around the head of the dildo, your eyes glued to Natasha's face. You can see the flecks of pleasure spreading across her features, the way she clenches her jaw to stop herself from vocalizing it. It's like you're stuck in a far too arousing competition with her. Each of you trying your damn harderst to break the other.

Unfortunately for you, you also have Wanda working behind you, her fingers restlessly pumping in and out of your soaked entrance. She knows exactly how to wind you up. 

Exactly how to keep you on your toes yet wanting more.

Natasha guides you further down her cock, working the length deeper into your mouth. "You look so much better like this, malyshka."

"I told you," Wanda pipes up, choosing that exact moment to work another finger into your tight heat. "You just wanted to be a party pooper."

"Keep talking like that and you'll be next, Maximoff."

"You're no fun."

You've never heard Wanda like this. So pouty and borderline bratty. It's a stark contrast to the dominant woman you've grown so attached to. To the one that turns your brain to putty with just a few words.

"Don't get any ideas, sweetheart. Mommy's still in charge here."

You moan in response, the sound muffled by the dildo currently stuffing your mouth.

"If you're Mommy," Natasha says, starting to thrust into your mouth. "Does that make me Daddy?"

You try to voice your approval for the title but neither of the women pay attention to you. They just keep talking like you're not even there, like all you are is a toy for them to play with.

"I thought you didn't like being called that."

The redhead shrugs in response. "I don't but now I'm curious."

"I think our good girl would like it."

You wait for Natasha to complain and say something about how you aren't theirs. Maybe make fun of you again for even thinking they'd ever entertain that idea.

She doesn't, though.

All she does is double her efforts as she keeps thrusting into your mouth. 

The kitchen fills with the sounds of your pleasure as they both play with your needy holes.

You feel yourself growing closer and closer to the edge, the coil in your stomach getting tighter with each one of their well-timed thrusts. You're completely at their mercy and you love every second of their never-ending show of dominance.

Of control over you.

Wanda's movements speed up and you do your best to ask for permission to cum, knowing all too well the consequences that would await you if you forgot. It's practically impossible to speak, though, considering the way Natasha is still thrusting into your mouth, her hips grinding against the base of the dildo each time she slips the length back inside.

"I know, baby," the witch reassures you. "You want to cum so bad, don't you?"

All she gets is a muffled whine in response, your body jerking forward when her thumb teases your swollen clit.

"Go ahead, darling," Natasha speaks up, her voice practically a low growl. "Cum all over Mommy's fingers for me."

You're not used to receiving such a command from the redhead and yet your body reacts immediatly to her tone. Your whole body seems to come alive as you fall over the edge, Wanda's fingers never ceasing in their movements. She expertly draws out your pleasure until you're left shaking and panting. 

The ringing in your ears doesn't allow you to hear the string of moans that leave Natasha's mouth as she watches the scene. The sight of you coming undone so violently causes her to fall apart, her fingers tightening in your hair until you're sputtering for air.

Thankfully, Wanda knows your limits well.

No words are exchanged as she uses her magic on you again. You're barely coherent, your mind still too muddled by pure pleasure and the cotton-filled haze of submission.

She gently sets you down on the couch, wiping down your soaked skin with a wet cloth, making sure to look you over in case their rough movements bruised you up.

"You okay, darling?" The witch asks as she settles down next to you.

You nod in response, shifting a little until your head rests in her lap. "Yeah...just tired."

"You should get some rest, detka. We have a lot to talk about."

Her words make you laugh. "That's an understament, Wands."

"Whatever." She moves her hand down to run her fingers through your hair, gently scratching your scalp as sleep overcomes you.

There's a lot you don't understand, a lot you really figure out, but you feel safe with the knowledge that you haven't ruined anything. That you're not an intruder in their relationship. If anything, you're a welcome addition.

[cupidkenji]

If you think I'm pretty

Pairing: Homelander x afab!reader CW: fingering, praise, slightly OOC homie, threats of captivity (he says hes gonna keep reader in the penthouse that's it I promise it's not genuine), cursing, sub!reader, porn without plot (I think this is applicable), they're in a relationship before this, reader says 'John' cause moaning homelander is funny as fuck Summary: Being a perfectionist, you're unsatisfied with a recent test score. Homelander has a cure for that. Disclaimer: reader is always thought to be chubby/fat but there are no physical descriptors here, just an FYI WC: 1,955 Genuinely idk I'd like to apologize for this. I fell out of my Criminal Minds hyperfixation like months ago and haven't written since so I'm really rusty. This is 100% a self-insert but reader is gn and not described other than the fact that they're AFAB. Also this was only proof read once so please point out typos if you see them <3

Your mother used to scold you for being too hard on yourself. Her face is virtually the only thing you can picture as your screen burns your eyes a bit. It’s too early for the high brightness of the device, having woken up before the sun could reintroduce your eyes to light. You’d set yourself up to wake slightly after midnight, intending to check the score of a huge test you’d taken months ago and simply go back to sleep in a matter of minutes. A rather stupid plan, in hindsight. You were questioning now if you knew yourself at all. Your phone had nearly been in your hand when you felt the cold burn of anxiety in your lungs. This test was a huge fucking deal. You were a hardcore perfectionist on top of that, trying with countless futile attempts to surrender your idea of the model score. You just needed to pass, not get your professor to memorialize you in marble for your pure genius. You’d gotten up instead of turning on your phone, brushing your teeth and making your bed before pacing the room slightly while you thought. Essentially, you were just allowing the mantra of ‘cope’ to bound back and forth between your ears for a couple minutes. You weren’t sure if you wanted to cope with the disappointment of a lesser score, or you were telling yourself to come down a couple pegs and be happy with getting by. The repetition of the word soothed that icy-hot feeling that had festered from your lungs to your fingertips, and you checked.

You were fine. Not the score you wanted, but you were fine. 

Mentally you writhed against the slump of your shoulders, but the weight of this self-inflicted shortcoming hit harder than you were capable of defending yourself from. The long sigh you let out was all frost as the tension left your airways. How underwhelming. You laid down on the bed you’d made not ten minutes ago, hearing the window slide open a few seconds into your pity party. You normally left it unlocked for him, knowing if anyone else attempted to enter your home, he wasn’t far. He told you himself that he seemed to have tuned into you specifically; swearing he’d be able to hear you on the other side of the city if you needed him.

“It’s way too early for you to already be having a bad day. The sun’s not even up.” He was closer now, fully sealed into your space and approaching you with comfortable footsteps. You never fully got over the irony of seeing America’s greatest hero flying through your window in sweatpants. “What’s wrong?” You always noticed the subtle way he changed how he spoke around you. In every interview or interaction you’d ever witnessed of his, he’d spoken like a character. For a man who hated having his words scripted, he spoke the same as every cookie-cutter movie he’d starred in. He didn’t talk that way with you, something you hoped was subconscious. A demonstration of the safety he felt around you.

You shrugged in response to the question. You acknowledged the trivial nature of your feelings, knowing you probably reeked of sadness to him but attempting to downplay it anyways. “Bad test score.”

He sat down next to you on the edge of the bed, allowing you the space to remain sprawled out. “Doubtful.” He laughed slightly as he said it, shaking his head and smiling. He looked at you, his eyebrows furrowing minorly. “What’d you get?”

“A four.”

“What were you hoping to get?”

Your voice was barely audible as you spoke, knowing he would pick it up but also trying to spare yourself the rush of immaturity hearing yourself speak would bring. “A five.”

He sighed - a sigh full of endearment that his eyes reflected as he looked at you. You told him once that his eyes were the first thing you’d noticed. It was sunny the day you’d met, and they looked practically ethereal. You’d seen such chaos reflected in them even from day one. The masses called him ‘soulless’ often, but you couldn’t understand such an accusation from anyone who had ever seen him. His eyes were practically overflowing with soul, every time you looked at him it was all you saw. They were capable of incredibly dangerous things but they were so entrancing. He was so fucking enticing. 

You broke the eye contact, but he nudged your leg and moved his head to try and follow your eyes. “Hey-” He called for your attention, so you looked back at him. “You know that’s a good score, right?”

You smiled small at him. “No- I know. I’m just…I don’t know- strict with myself.” You found it hard to put into words. You knew you’d done well, but the ability to feel pride felt withheld from you. Like your eyes bore into it but your mind refused to distribute the feeling it brought to something tangible.

“I think you’re just too much of a fucking perfectionist.” His hand was splayed across your upper thigh from where he sat. No matter which part of you he touched, he had a grip that made your head spin. He was so sure of himself, the strength demonstrated from such an unassuming form never lost the novelty that it’d held when you met him. “Can’t let yourself admit when you did good.”

You tried to be dismissive, but it was hard to fake anything with a man like him. “As if you aren’t, John.” His jaw got the slightest bit tighter at the use of his name. Such a miniscule action that easily dodges the eyes of people who aren’t looking. You couldn’t really imagine not looking at him.

“I’m serious.” His face was still relaxed, but the expression in his eyes had shifted. His pupils dilated and his full attention was on you. “You did good.”

The only con of being with somebody with abilities such as his was the lack of secrecy. You used to laugh with your friends about how grateful you were for the discrete nature of arousal when living without certain body parts. That went out the window when you started seeing him. He knew the second anything shifted within you. He had every perversion you’d ever dreamt about practically categorized by the time your two month anniversary had rolled around. One of his favorite pastimes was casually working a turn-on into conversation and just watching you squirm.

You fought the urge to pull away from his hand, feeling your stomach drop slightly at a declaration like that. “Thank you.” You looked away from him again. Something you knew he didn’t really like but choosing to try and save face over anything else. 

“Yeah…I don’t know.” You could see his focus on the topic increasing by the second. His disposition was happy, but he held serious and almost threatening undertones. He tightened his grip on your thigh and you looked at back to him, hesitantly following the silent command to keep your eyes up. “I think you should say it.”

“John-” His assertiveness was starting to get to you, it always did. You sat up on your forearms to be a little more level with him but he moved his hand from your thigh to your stomach and pushed you back down. The thought of having to lay there and explicitly state that you did well on your test felt like a kid having to write in repetition on a chalkboard in detention. 

He was looking down at you, the eye contact making you slightly dizzy. His face was kind, it almost always was when he was around you, but the conversation was derailing. “I just think it’s important that you understand this.” He was so good at making you want what he thought was best.

You inhaled, swallowing your pride and licking your lips. “What do you want me to say?”

That familiar, condescending smile was starting to creep onto his lips. “Just tell the truth.” His eyebrows raised slightly in a silent prompt. “Say you did good.”

His hand was descending from your stomach, making it’s way to the hemline of your underwear. You hadn’t bothered to change out of what you were sleeping in, only now realizing the vulnerability of it. You held your tongue for a moment, breathing out a quiet “I did good.” 

He tore the only fabric between his hand and you off your body as easily as ripping a sheet of paper and leaned in a little more. “Say it again.”

“John-” You said it as barely an exhale as he skimmed his hand over you. You hadn’t even registered just how sensitive or how wet you’d gotten in the few minutes you were talking to him.

“I don’t know why you act so fucking noble. You should be running Ashleys around in circles or giving interns your coffee order. Not any of this testing bullshit that you’re too good for anyway.” His tone elevated to that mocking, cocky tone that swept into the most shame filled crevices of your mind and tugged the most deprived parts into the driver seat. He thumbed at your clit while he spoke, increasing and decreasing the pressure whenever he felt like it and effectively snatching any remaining ability to form coherent thought from your grabbing hands. “You’ve been chosen by a God, honey. You can do anything, I can give you anything.” He got breathier as he spoke, seemingly soaking up the desperation you were excreting and matching it in a tenfold.

You felt two of his fingers enter you effortlessly and you couldn’t stop yourself from gripping his arm. You always felt the power imbalance most in times like these. A feeling like pulling an angel away from heaven just for yourself, combing through it’s wings with your fingers or trying to lap up a fraction of that status in a wildly inappropriate disregard for the natural roles of nature. He was so much more than you, but he just wanted you to feel good. You swore under your breath as he started circles on your clit. He never got hand cramps, never got tired. He would go until you couldn’t anymore.

“That’s it.” He had barely said it, more just exhaled the assurance under his breath. You were close, you’re sure he could feel it. “Gonna move you to my penthouse. Keep you braindead and needy.”

 It shouldn’t have hit you the way it did. Considering who he was, he could easily fulfill that promise with nobody at Vought even thinking twice. It was the way he said it, the way he acts. Always needing control and always right. The most powerful man alive spent his time fantasizing about control over you, and your stomach twisted in disgust at how badly it got you off.

He slowed his movements as your high declined. He was breathing heavy, but your heart was beating like a drum. He had the smallest smile on his face like the sound gave him a sense of satisfaction. You rose to your forearms, this time with no protest from him, and watched him stand up. He held the back of your head with the hand that wasn’t nearly dripping and kissed the top of your head. It was chaste and quick, but the domesticity of it made your throat ache. He uttered something about getting a towel to clean up, stating he’d be right back before exiting the room. 

You rushed the words out before he could leave. “But you didn’t-”

“Next time.” He just waved you off. “I just thought you deserved a little reward.”

[lightseoul]

CHAPTER 5 | ALL OUT OF LUCK

w.c. 3.5k

tags. fem!reader, pro-hero!katsuki, aged-up (26), some cussing here and there, presence of breadcrumbs if you look close enough, dark and mature themes related to quirk supremacy

a/n. i'm back! thank you for waiting patiently for this chapter. i haven't had the time to sit down and lock in on writing until yesterday, but i hope the wait is worth it! important plot points will be discussed in this chapter, so i hope this one is a fun one for y'all!

links. masterlist, ao3 (coming soon)

Sooner came later than you wished it would.

After that late-night conversation with Bakugou where he implicitly emboldened you to exhibit patience, you really made it a point to double down on the entire charade. You’ve attended as many activities as you could with the pro-hero, made a good impression on your fellow members, and even gone as far as constantly initiating affectionate behavior with Bakugou, to which he’s been getting better at responding.

So much so that he’s bordering dangerous.

There’s been that singular instance where he ushered you to the cafeteria after one of your quirk training sessions—like a gentleman—a big, firm hand planted on the small of your back. It wasn’t a huge gesture, but it was the first coming from him without prompting ever since you had to start acting like a couple. You’d be lying if you said it didn’t catch you off guard, but you played it off well enough, shooting him a grateful smile as you reached your usual table.

He only looked away, solemn.

You shrugged it off, thinking everyone had to start somewhere.

And while little moments like that have helped in taking your mind off of how routinary your days have been, the fact of the matter is: said patience is thinning.

You didn’t have to look far for proof either to know that Bakugou’s experiencing the same thing.

He’s been doing a decent job at regulating his emotions, as well as acting in front of everyone else to play his part, but when the trackers are long gone and cameras are sealed shut, and you’re in the privacy of your shared bedroom, that’s when he puts the mask down.

You could tell he’s been trying to remain kind—or at least, civil—with you, but there’s no denying the increased curtness of his responses, as well as how he’s been extra grumpy when roused in the mornings by either of the twins.

And you can’t blame him—you really can’t.

You yourself were just about to mentally give up and accept that you’re never going to get on with the mission at this rate when it comes on a regular evening.

You shoot up from where you were sprawled lazily across the mattress, alarmed. You glance at Bakugou, who’s already looking at you from the couch, that same caution you know is written all over your face etched on his.

Two weeks of living here, and the impending cardiac arrest that comes with a barrage of unexpected knocks still prove to be a probable cause of death for the both of you.

Wordlessly and without your behest, Bakugou grabs his pillow and blanket before throwing them beside you on the bed. You’re quick to adjust them into place as he slowly walks towards the door, another round of rapping resounding from the entryway.

Probably over the whole hammering thing just as much as you are, Bakugou promptly turns the knob and swings the slab of wood open, revealing a serious Omiru.

She speaks up almost instantly, but not without first glaring you both daggers. “The boss’s office. Now.”

And before she turns on her heel or either of you can ask any questions: “We’re gonna discuss the plan.”

The first thing you notice when you get to Masaki’s office a few minutes later is that for a large organization’s leader, the space is—just like its owner—remarkably…plain.

Similar to your small bedroom, the walls are colored off-white, the floor is dark hardwood, and there are very minimal decorations. Aside from the picture frames of what seems to be a family of four littered on his modestly sized desk, the room is pretty bare in terms of embellishments.

You don’t get to take a closer look at the photographs, though, because the second thing then catches your attention: how, rather than plastered leisurely on the sofa and conversing with each other, the three heads actually seem busy.

While, in fact, seated on the couch, Sayaka and Kouki are far from being relaxed. They’re sitting on the edge of their seats, hunched over what seems to be a…chart? You don’t get to peer at that, either, because their bodies are blocking the view.

So, instead, you let your gaze drift over to the main man himself, who is behind his workspace and has his back turned against you, fiddling with what you think is a push pin as he stares at the large corkboard in front of him.

“Bakugou and his girlfriend, sir,” Omiru announces before you. “Just as you requested.”

At the sound of her low voice, Masaki turns around, a pleasant expression on his face. “Welcome, you two. Please, go and grab a seat.”

You quickly scan the room for said seat, but there aren’t any more vacancies aside from the set of furniture the cyborg and the old man are occupying. So, albeit begrudgingly, you quietly follow Bakugou as he takes a few steps and sits down across the two, with you plopping yourself beside him.

The man next to you clears his throat.

“Is there any reason why we’re being summoned at,” Bakugou pauses, checking his watch, “9:27 PM?”

Playing it cool and not at all eager, huh?

You can do that as well.

Feigning ignorance, you look at Masaki as he rounds his desk and situates himself on the single sofa perpendicular to the four of you.

“Apologies for that,” the man starts diffidently. “I’ve been…busy with things at home, and now’s the only time I have to discuss this with you for the next few days.”

“Are you finally telling me what my role is?” asks Bakugou, manspreading as he brings an arm on top of the backrest behind you. “Because if you are, then fucking finally.”

“Yes,” answers the plain-looking man, “We’ll get to that. But before that, I’ll have to preface this meeting by making sure we’re all on the same page.”

“As you all know, our vision here in The Quirk Coalition is for a future where quirks are cultivated to their greatest potential and are regarded with the highest primacy in society. That means those who can wield their strong powers will take their rightful place in the community and reap the benefits of their gifts,” Masaki pauses, before looking at you and Bakugou. “Do you see where I’m going with this?”

You nod, pushing against the dread that’s creeping up your spine. You feel Bakugou stir beside you.

He continues.

“For the gifted to fully enjoy what they deserve, we’re going to have to remodel society to serve those with formidable quirks. After all, it’s them who serve as the pillars of our nation that’s constantly under the threat of malicious villains.”

Villains like you, you think to yourself. You bite your tongue.

Masaki then leans forward, a sinister look dawning on his features.

“That then, my dearest members, leaves no space for those who are weak and quirkless. As such, we’ve taken upon the difficult but noble duty to eliminate those who are such. This is necessary, so as to be able to rebuild a world that’s suited to the beauty that are quirks.”

Silence.

“…All this yappin’ yet I still don’t know what kinda action I’ll get?” spews Bakugou.

You mentally facepalm.

“Right,” retorts Masaki, “I appreciate the enthusiasm, Dynamight. You’ll be glad to know that you play an important role in the whole scheme of things.”

“We’ll essentially be using those bombs of yours, boy,” Kouki chimes in, catching the rest of your attention. “There was no way for us to procure munitions without alerting the government, so we’re going to have to use the ones you produce with your quirk.”

“That’s it?” Bakugou spits out, performing for his life. “You’re just gonna make me into a factory? Don’t I get to blow things up myself?”

“You can’t without exposing yourself,” comes Masaki’s level-headed reply. “That’s what our volunteering members are for. They’ll be carrying your bombs with you and infiltrate the venues.”

“Volunteers?” you can’t help but ask, voice small. You feel Bakugou’s eyes boring at the side of your face. “Are you saying they’re…?”

“Going to die in the line of duty, unfortunately, yes.”

“But aren’t they going to be detected?” you push, tamping down the panic that’s blooming in your gut. “Most places here in Japan have radars that can easily spot a grenade.”

Masaki smiles at you.

You feel goosebumps rise in its wake.

“I appreciate your concern, sweetheart, but we’ve made sure our targets are free of such devices.”

You let the confusion show on your features.

How can that be?

This has to be a joke, or this man has to be bluffing.

But why would he, if he needed the two of you—or at least, Bakugou—to execute his plan?

His choice of victims ought to be sheltered in secured skyscrapers or guard-riddled complexes, neither of which would tolerate the presence of explosives.

Unless…

You chance a glance past Masaki’s shoulder and onto the corkboard he was just studying a moment ago.

And when you do, you barely manage to fight back a terrified gasp as your eyes land on the rows of photographs that are pinned onto the panel.

Because staring right back at you are tens of faces of children.

“…Y/N?”

You snap to attention, turning to regard the concerned faces looking at you. “Huh?”

“You okay, babe?” comes Bakugou’s gruff voice, and you barely register the hand that slithers through the space between you to encase yours in a gentle hold.

You shift to meet the pro-hero in the eye. You find yourself glad you’re sitting down, because the sheer intensity of his gaze is enough to knock you off your feet.

“You zoned out there for a second,” he explains, shooting you a boyish smile, although it comes out slightly stilted.

“Yeah, no, I’m alright,” you try to laugh, “Sorry, I guess I’m just sleepy.”

“Are you sure she needs to be part of this conversation?” asks Kouki, who’s looking a bit too unsettled for your taste. “Masaki, I think you can send her back to their room if she needs to rest.”

“No,” you quickly interject, “I’m fine! I want to be here.”

You flash them the most sincere grin you can muster. “I want to help.”

“She’s the real deal,” Bakugou adds, to your relief. “Her quirk can make a huge difference in how successful your whole operation will be.”

On that note, and just like last time, you prepare yourself to utilize your quirk when none of them say anything for a beat. You maintain your carefree countenance as you wait for your go signal, but it never comes.

What comes, instead, is a decisive nod from Masaki.

“Very well, she can stay. But no more tangents, please. We need to get this ironed out.”

You nod eagerly. The man deems it enough for him to go on.

“Now that we’ve established Bakugou’s role in this entire enterprise, it’s high time we go through the actual plans.”

He gestures to the blueprint-sized chart on the coffee table in front of you. “As you can see here, we have ten circles. Each circle represents a target elementary school. One volunteer—”

Suicide bomber, you note in your head.

“—will be assigned to each school, armed with an ample number of bombs courtesy of Dynamight. Groups of at least six members of the organization will also be appointed per target to assist the volunteers and capture escapees if necessary. They’ll be teleported to their respective venues via their portkeys.”

Before you can even think of asking what the hell a portkey is, Kouki beats you to it.

“They’re devices,” he declares haughtily. “Magnetic devices, to be more precise.”

He holds out his thin wrists, which you now notice are adorned with silver bands made up of thin, rectangular pieces that stick to his wrinkly skin.

“Each member has a piece themselves, which pairs with the ones I have here,” he wiggles his hand for emphasis. “This is how we do mass teleportation.”

“Thank you, Kouki-san,” Masaki interrupts, before pointing again at the chart. “Now that we have that cleared up, I’d like to invite you to look at this portion.”

“While the rest of the members execute the plan at the ten locations, Kouki, Sayaka, and Bakugou will be in the headquarters overlooking the entire thing, while Y/N and I will be in the Prime Minister’s Office executing the final blow.”

A wave of terror instantly hits you just as Bakugou bristles in his seat.

“The fuck are you on, separating us?”

Despite the nausea pooling in your stomach, you still manage to register the contortion of Masaki’s features into a frown.

“You gave me the idea, Bakugou. You said your girlfriend here boosts one’s success rate, and I need all the help I can get to make sure I wipe out the entire office and elect a new set of like-minded officers.”

“I don’t give a fuck,” comes Bakugou’s hostile response. “She could get hurt, and I need to be there to protect her.”

If you weren’t in a literal life-or-death situation, you would’ve snorted at that.

But alas, you are, and the last thing you feel like doing right now is laughing.

So instead, you squeeze the hand that’s been holding yours since what has felt like forever ago, shrinking in yourself ever so slightly to seem afraid and to further sell the act.

You avert your gaze downwards, too, to make them feel like the alpha in the situation, but not before you catch a glimpse of Masaki sighing.

You hear it, too.

“What do you suggest we do then, huh, Dynamight?”

“You can station me where you and Y/N will be.” He eyes the robotic woman and the old geezer, “These two are more than capable of manning the HQ, anyway. Besides, I’m more useful out in the field.”

“But the risk of you getting caught—”

“I’m well-fucking-trained in stealth missions, if you really have to know,” Bakugou cuts him off. “Just let me know how I can contribute to your particular objective and I’ll do it. Without getting caught.”

He says it so confidently that even you’re convinced. But you don’t get to bask in his unfounded (up for debate, really) confidence, because he squeezes your hand this time before tightening his hold and turning to look straight at you.

You stare into each other’s eyes for what feels like an eternity before he delivers the finishing blow.

“…I just need to make sure she’s safe.”

A chuckle yanks you out of your daze, and you whip to see Masaki smiling at the two of you.

“Since when did the Great Explosion Murder God Dynamight become such a loverboy?”

“None of your goddamn business,” comes the pro-hero’s snappy reply, which grants him another bark of laughter.

“I suppose not,” Masaki quips, and you find yourself wondering how this man can manage to joke around like this when he’s got arrays and arrays of photos of children he’s planning to murder behind him.

Despite the sheer absurdity of the situation and the undeniable thumping of your heart, you’re eventually able to school your face into a neutral expression and listen in to the rest of the meeting.

After adjusting Bakugou’s placement from headquarters to the Prime Minister’s Office alongside you and Masaki, the latter proceeded to discuss further arrangements for the two of you. Apparently, there will be three people assigned to each of you to monitor your movements during D-Day. Neither you nor Bakugou protested against it, aware that you’re already walking on thin ice after negotiating that you be together during the day of the attack.

Once he got that part done and over with, the leader went through a few more details about the bombings before adjourning the session altogether with a conclusive pat on the knees like he did during your first meeting.

And just like that, you’re sent back to your room.

Words aren’t exchanged between you and Bakugou as he retrieves his pillow and blanket from your space, carefully laying them out on the couch.

You don’t have to ask him if he’s feeling the same heaviness you’re carrying, the load evident in how he seems to be physically weighed down with the way he moves.

It’s not even just about the news of tens of children being the targets. It’s also the pressure to succeed in this mission with this new knowledge, even more so the looming reality that you’re currently leaning way closer toward failing it.

And you don’t know what takes over you—it may be that burden, or the palpable fear, or the very fact that you’ve been sharing more and more touches over the past two weeks—but you do it.

You stand up from where you’re seated on the edge of the bed and pull him by his wrist—the Bakugou who was just about to lie down on his makeshift bed—and into an embrace.

Bakugou instantly stiffens in your grasp, but he doesn’t say anything nor try to wriggle himself out. Stubborn and admittedly craving for a comforting hug yourself, you don’t let go of your hold around his torso, shifting to pat his back all the while.

“We can do this,” you whisper a few moments later, forehead against his firm chest.

And, as if your words are magic, you sense his body relax before you feel him wrap his arms around you.

You fight back the urge to bury the rest of your face into his chest and cry when he does so.

“‘Course we can, dumbass,” comes his uncharacteristically soft answer. “We don’t have a choice.”

Keeping your head high the following morning proved to be more difficult than you initially thought, let alone getting your ass out of the comfortable bed where you decided you could die then and there.

Bakugou himself didn’t look too excited when he got woken by the female twin at 8 AM sharp, that prominent frown deeply embedded in his mouth as he tossed his things onto the mattress just like clockwork.

And really, you were this close to asking him if he wanted to join you on your deathbed when your last bit of common sense reared its ugly head and metaphorically detroit-slapped you in the face.

Not now, bitch.

You had lives to save.

And so with that onerous knowledge, you hauled yourself out of bed, got ready in record time, and trudged beside Bakugou down to the mess hall.

You try to suppress the disappointment that lurches to your throat when you spot a small group of 20-somethings eating at the far end of your favorite table. You were looking forward to some peace and quiet, at least this morning after the debacle from last night, but apparently, that’s not happening.

You know better than to move to another spot, though, knowing all too well that such an action will make you seem snobbish and ruin the amiable reputation you’ve been trying to build for yourself. And so with a heavy heart, you head there with your full tray in tow and seat yourself beside Bakugou, just like how you’ve always had since Day 1.

And the moment you do, that’s when you hear it.

“…Have you heard?” surfaces an enticing voice that must belong to one of the women you clocked before sitting down. “Word’s spreading outside about the attack.”

“Seriously?” comes a man’s voice this time. “What about it?”

“Not much, just that there’s an impending one. But get this,” she pauses, and drops her volume enough that you have to strain to hear the next part.

“There…rumors…#2…involved.”

Your body moves before your brain can catch up—you whip to look at Bakugou beside you, whose eyes are already wide as saucers when you meet his gaze. Without a word, the both of you quickly move to demolish the food in front of you, and within a matter of minutes, you’re up and clearing your dishes by the kitchen area, before stomping toward the leader’s office.

Bakugou doesn’t even bother to knock on the door, opting to unceremoniously barge into the room instead.

“What the—”

“We’ve overheard that rumors are circulating about the attack and my involvement,” Bakugou announces.

Masaki, who’s looking stunned from where he’s seated on his office chair, tosses you a perplexed look. “What?”

“Let us out for one day,” Bakugou swings out of nowhere you’d almost get whiplash if you didn’t stop yourself from gawking at him at the last minute.

The man frowns. “I’m afraid I don’t follow, Bakugou.”

“Let the two of us be seen out for a day,” Bakugou expounds, although not by much.

Though, that seems to be enough for you, because only then do you get it.

Dating scandals have always been the rumor mill’s favorite, after all.

˖⁺‧₊ as always, reblogs, replies, and tags are appreciated <3 feel free to drop an ask, too—i'd love to chat with you. have a nice day!

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[tinylilacbun]

Too Naive?

Pairing: daddy!rafe x maybank!little!reader

Warnings: POTENTIAL SPOILERS FOR OBX4 (not really since I changed the dialogue a little but still)!! age regression, rafe being rafe, ruthie, reader is jj's twin, hurt/comfort, angst with happy ending, the pogues know reader regresses, cursing

A/N: This is the longest fic I've ever written, phew. This was supposed to be a drabble btw 🫣 word count: 2324

⋆｡‧˚ʚ ૮꒰ ˶• ༝ •˶꒱ა ɞ˚‧｡⋆

As you made your way to the yacht club you smiled the whole way there, anticipating the exciting news Rafe wants to tell you about.

Your smile only grows when you find Rafe standing with Topper, both nursing their drinks and your face fell a little when Topper's girlfriend Ruthie joins at his side.

"Oh babe, I was just talking to Rafe how we're gonna screw the pogues and make amends." Topper tells her and she clinks her glass with his.

"Oh I'll drink to that. Not sure Rafe will though." She says before taking a sip from her straw.

Rafe narrows his eyes in confusion at that as he is about to raise his glass to his lips. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"I mean your girlfriend, right?"

You furrow your brows at the mention of you, hiding a little by the entrance to eavesdrop.

"Y/n? What about her?" Rafe asks and Ruthie grimaces a little with a hiss.

"She's pretty pogue isn't she? And too childish for someone like you." She explains.

Your whole mood changes when you hear that, expecting Rafe to defend you now but after the moment of silence your heart drops at his answer.

"She is a bit naive but just because we hook up doesn't mean it's anything serious." He replies and your whole world crumbles just like that.

You thought it was something serious, that you could trust him with your life, and you did exactly that by telling him about your regression.

The memory of him assuring you that it's okay, that he's gonna be there for you and gradually take the role as your caregiver but Rafe being Rafe he doesn't understand the importance of what that means to you.

It took you so much courage to even tell him and now hearing him say that breaks your heart. You feel stupid for being so open the second someone gives you a sense of security. JJ always tells you to watch with whom you share your secrets with but you thought it was different with Rafe.

Maybe Rafe is right, you were so naive to think that he loves you for who you are.

You simply turn around and leave, trying to push back the tears that threaten to slip as you make your way to the only place you know no one will judge you and the only person who knows how to comfort you right now.

⋆｡‧˚ʚ ૮꒰ ˶• ༝ •˶꒱ა ɞ˚‧｡⋆

Wrapping your arms around yourself you keep walking for a while, a warm feeling filling your chest as you approach your childhood home that your brother and the pogues morphed into an actual home now.

You haven't been here for a while, completely wrapped in your lovesick bubble with Rafe that you slightly feel bad for neglecting your true family for something that was bound to collapse as your brother would say.

From the distance you can see them all mingle around their freshly opened shop, crossing the dock.

The first person to notice you is John B, a smile forming on his face at the sight of you, quickly closing the distance between the two of you. "Look who it is! My favorite Maybank twin!"

You can't help but give him a small smile as well, wrapping your arms around his neck as he wraps his arms around your waist, spinning you both one time.

The second he sets you back down you see JJ behind him, feeling the tears build up again. He instantly notices that, a sad frown on his face he pulls you into his embrace.

"Wanna talk?" He whispers and you nod against him, gripping his shirt tightly. "C'mon, let's get on The Snapper, haven't seen the beauty yet, have you?"

You pull back, smiling again when he takes his hat off to place it on your head, keeping an arm around your shoulders.

He leads you towards the boat, helping you get on he turns to address the others. "You guys gonna be okay for a while without your captain?"

They all give him different types of agreement, some giving verbal responses and others just holding a thumbs up.

With that JJ gets behind the wheel, stirring away from the dock while you sit close, enjoying the pleasant breeze of the afternoon.

After a while, your brother slows down the boat, going to sit beside you he sees you fumble with the ear of your lamb plushie.

"What happened..." He finally asks, his voice quiet and gentle.

You recount everything that happened back at the yacht club, starting to sniffle the more you tell him. JJ stands up, pacing in front of you and running a hand through his tousled hair.

"That bastard." He curses and you lift your head with a frown.

"Jay...m'little." You mumble, looking back down at the lamb in your lap. This stuffed animal represents your journey with Rafe since you confessed being a little to him as it's the first thing he bought you after you told him.

"Sorry, sorry. I'm just-" he groans in frustration, sitting back down next to you.

"Jus' say it..."

JJ looks at you, confusion written in his face. "Say what?"

"You warned me dis would happen..." You hiccup and he quickly pulls you more into his side, feeling you wrap your arms around him, squeezing him tightly.

"Oh, kiddo...that doesn't mean I enjoy seeing you upset." He comforts you, his hand moving up and down your back to soothe you. "It'll be alright."

Finally all your emotions pour over and you start to cry against your brother's shoulder, your body shaking from the force of your sobs.

A few hours later you are dressed in some comfortable pajamas, all snuggled up with Sarah, Kie, and Cleo outside on a couch that's standing near a crinkling fireplace, a weighted blanket covering you four and your lamb tucked under your chin while the boys are being their usual self, drinking beers and listening to music.

You have put your phone on silent, ignoring all messages and missed calls from Rafe but you did inform him that you're here, nothing more, so he doesn't think the worst by you not responding.

⋆｡‧˚ʚ ૮꒰ ˶• ༝ •˶꒱ა ɞ˚‧｡⋆

Rafe was pacing back and forth in the living room, nibbling on the nail of his thumb, looking down at the phone in his hand and not so patiently waiting for you to call or just answer his messages.

He stares at the screen, waiting for the three dots to appear that indicates you are texting, but nothing. He curses when he tries to call you for like the 30th time and it instantly goes to voicemail.

"Call me back when you hear this I- please." He speaks into his phone, his other hand running over his buzzed head anxiously.

Pulling his phone away from his ear he stops his pacing, coming to a stop in front of the dresser that has a few picture frames decorated on the top.

He glances at the one that held a picture of him and Sarah when they were kids, feeling a wave of nostalgia wash over him.

Family is the most important thing. Take care of each other.

His father's words echo in his head. Rafe crosses his arms, letting out a long exhale. He looks at a picture of the both of you where he's hugging you from behind, your bright smile being the exact thing he wishes he could see right now.

He still doesn't know what's going on with you, why you're distancing yourself from him and he desperately wants to fix it but when he turns to look at the clock and sees how late it is he knows you're already asleep by now.

⋆｡‧˚ʚ ૮꒰ ˶• ༝ •˶꒱ა ɞ˚‧｡⋆

The next morning you get woken up by the sun shining through the thin blinds, hearing the birds chirping outside. You sit up with a sleepy grumble, rubbing the sleep from your eyes you reach over to grab your phone, still adjusting to the bright morning sun.

You sigh when you see the new calls and messages from Rafe but decide to ignore it, getting up from the comfort of your bed you make your way to the kitchen.

As you're about to open the fridge you can hear some commotion coming from outside and go to check what's going on, freezing in the front doorway when you see Rafe and JJ going at each other's throats while John B and Pope are holding back your brother to probably prevent him from beating Rafe into a pulp.

"She doesn't wanna fucking see you!" JJ shouts and you walk down the steps, everyone turning to face you at hearing your footsteps.

Rafe is relieved to see you're okay, physically at least, not knowing the actual damage he has done by what he said to Topper and Ruthie.

"Baby..." Rafe makes a move to approach you but JJ wrenches himself from the other's hold to stand in front of you.

"Don't even think about it. As much as I would love to beat you up right now, she somehow still cares about you what I don't get but don't push your luck." Your brother warns him, pulling you behind him protectively.

Rafe clenches his jaw, looking over JJ's shoulder at you, his chest feeling tight at the way you look at him and he can't decipher why. "Can we talk? I just...I want to understand-"

JJ is about to spit more insults at him when you place your hand on his arm to get his attention, muttering softly. "S'okay..."

He turns his head to meet your gaze. "Y'sure? You don't have to if you don't wanna."

You give him a small reassuring smile, nodding your head at him. He reluctantly steps aside, pointing a finger at Rafe. "We'll be right over there so don't think of anything stupid."

The pogues retreat a good amount of feet away and you turn your head to face Rafe again, the smile disappearing again and your expression somber.

"Listen I- I got this deal which looks promising in the future a-and when it's through we can build a house, together." Rafe rambles, fidgeting with his hands as he waits for your reaction. "I wanted to tell you yesterday but you didn't show up, ignoring me completely and I-" he laughs nervously.

"Oh I don't know, maybe I'm too naive or what was it again, childish." You try to keep up a tough exterior, crossing your arms but can't stop the trembling of your bottom lip.

His eyes widen a tad when you say that, the realization that you heard the conversation from yesterday feeling like a slap in the face.

"Yeah, I was there." You force out, your voice cracking slightly. "That you wouldn't live with a pogue 'cause you have standards."

Rafe for once in his life doesn't know how to respond. He takes a step closer to, swallowing the lump in his throat.

"But maybe you're right..." You chuckle sadly, starting to raise your voice. "I guess I was so naive to actually think you left that pogue and kook shit behind and love me for who I am!"

"Baby, listen-" he begins but you cut him off, lifting your hand to stop him mid sentence.

"Don't...don't call me that." You whisper.

"I fucked up, okay? What I said yesterday...it was wrong and I can't expect you to forgive me for that but believe me when I say that I realized this whole pogue or kook stuff doesn't matter to me anymore. I mean, my dad was born as a pogue, I shouldn't have cared before and I definitely don't now. I- I know I can't take back what I said and that you're hurt." He says, taking another step to stand right in front of you, leaning down a little to have direct eye contact with you he lifts his hands to place them on your arms.

Now you start to tear up from his touch alone, wanting nothing more than to find solace in his hold but refrain from moving a single muscle.

"I'm sorry, I truly am. I love you and I want to plan my future with you in it." He lowers his voice, grabbing your chin gently to lift your head.

You analyze his expression for any sign that he's lying or just trying to make you fall for it again but you can see the honesty in his eyes.

Biting your lip in hesitation, a single tear rolls down your cheek and Rafe is quick to wipe it away with his thumb, the action having you feel that familiar fuzzy feeling in your head. "Y-You pwomise?"

"I swear...the only thing I care about is you. I'll do better, I'll make up with Sarah and help the others out so you and your brother won't lose the property." He promises.

With a sniffle you finally wrap your arms around him, burying your face in his chest. Rafe sighs, moving his arms around your frame as well, placing his chin on top of your head. "I love you so much you don't understand..."

"I love you too daddy..." You mumble into the fabric of his shirt, holding onto him. "But I wan' that new jellycat bunny, the big one."

He chuckles at that. "Of course, that and anything else you want."

Taglist

For everything:

@my-river-lilly @pauntedblacknails @fanfictioniseverything @devilslilbabysblog @buckymydarlingangel @hallecarey1 @daybreakwinter @loveshineslikethesky @wandaslittlewhore @vase-of-lilies @white-wolf1940 @simpingbutch @mischiefsemimanaged @alina02 @teddybearsgrr @doozywoozy @angelbabydoll28 @glxwingrxse @lilymurphy03 @veryvaughnny @lokigirlszendaya @youngstarfishdinosaur @little--baby--bear @minideathgoddess @rach2602 @gh0stgurl @flourishandblotts-inc @lovelyy-moonlight @yoruse

@mythixmagic @iris-xoxo-juhu

For Rafe:

@chiaraanatra @chimindity @erikasurfer

[hischierswhore]

Can you write about Luke Hughes being in a long-time relationship with a girl who is a figure skater, she goes to a competition where she wins first place and he is there with his parents supporting her, so a couple of days later when he is doing press someone asks him about it and he is like a proud boyfriend speaking about how he feels and how his family supports her too. Please, I love your writing.💕

gold medalist

pairing: luke hughes x figure skater!reader

a/n: my first fic for an NHL player! i haven't written a fic in a WHILE so i hope this is decent. also thank u anon <3

You were currently competing in the 2024 World Figure Skating Championship in Montreal. Your parents sadly were unable to make the event, the biggest event you've even been part of. Luckily for you, your boyfriend Luke and his parents had come to support you.

They looked beyond excited to watch you perform, especially Luke, who had never seen you perform before due to his hectic schedule. They were extremely supportive and could barely contain their excitement during your performance. It was moving and you looked so elegant as you glided across the ice so effortlessly.

Finally, the competition had ended and the results were ready to be revealed. You listened and applauded as the other competitors' names were called for 2nd and 3rd place, which made the butterflies in your stomach even worse. You thought you did great, but you'd also seen your competitors perform, and you were taken aback by their beautiful performances, leaving you to think that you didn't place at all.

"And the winner of the 2024 World Figure Skating Championship is... Y/N L/N!" The announcer shouted as the entire arena jumped up with cheers.

You had not processed the words that just came out of the announcers mouth. You were frozen, your hands shaking uncontrollably as you stood in the middle of the ice. You snapped out of your daze, tears beginning to trickle down your cheeks as you took it all in. You did it. You did the damn thing.

"Thank you everyone! Thank you, thank you, thank you! I am so happy! This is such a surreal moment. I can't believe any of this is happening" You exclaimed as the announcer handed you the microphone and the judges had given you flowers and your gold medal.

Moments later, you were free to meet up with Luke and his parents. The second they saw you, Luke ran to you and carried you into his arms. He held you tight and kissed your head repeatedly.

"Y/N, baby, I'm so proud of you. I love you so much, don't ever doubt yourself" He said to you, his eyes brimming with tears.

"I won't. I promise" You replied, kissing him gently on the lips.

His parents soon approached you and they were both cheering as loudly as possible for their daughter-in-law.

"Y/N we are so proud of you honey! You deserve this, you really do. Congratulations" Luke's mother said as she hugged you tightly. She pulled back and wiped away the tears from her face.

"Now go get changed! We're going to celebrate tonight!" Luke's father added as he walked off to tell everyone else about your win.

A few days later, you were back in New Jersey, seeing as Luke had a game and you had never failed to miss a single one since you started dating all those years ago.

Luke was currently doing press while you were at your shared apartment tidying up before you headed to the game. You turned on the tv to watch the press conference while you cleaned.

You were in the process of cleaning the counter when you looked at the tv to find your own image on the screen, along with Luke and his parents.

"Luke we have to ask. Your amazingly talented girlfriend Y/n recently competed in the World Figure Skating Championship and won the first place prize. What was going through your head in that moment when her name was called?" A reporter asked the 6'2 man, holding her mic towards him.

"Well, I just felt nothing short of complete pride. My beautiful girlfriend competed magnificently and did the most amazing job she possibly could. There was no question in my mind that she would take home first place, she deserved every bit of that trophy. I am so proud of her. Her dedication to the sport and hard work really paid off and it was very rewarding to witness. I'm so glad I got to be there with her to cheer her on. It's moments like these that remind me how lucky I am to have her" Luke responded confidently.

The reporters questions continued as he began asking more specific questions about your relationship and how things were between you two now.

You smiled when you heard him say 'my beautiful girlfriend', 'lucky I am' and 'her dedication'. You couldn't help but feel extremely loved when he spoke like that about you. He was so genuine, and it showed through everything he did and said.

"One final question Luke. We saw that your parents were there to help you cheer Y/n on from the stands. What did they think about Y/n's win?" The reporter then asked him.

"My parents were ecstatic. They had such an awesome time watching her compete. Mom couldn't stop telling me how incredibly happy she was, and dad said it was absolutely perfect. They know how much effort Y/n puts into skating, and they were able to experience that firsthand. That night was a special one, and they told me how lucky I am to have found someone like Y/n and be able to share moments like that with them. That will definitely be a night I'll never forget." Luke stated happily.

Once the interview concluded, you watched the footage with a huge smile on your face. You were feeling rather giddy inside as you remembered that evening, especially when Luke had placed his arm around your waist and pulled you close to him, whispering something in your ear.

Your heart skipped a beat when he mentioned how lucky he was to have found someone like you, and how special it was to share moments like that with you. You loved hearing how affectionate he was with you, knowing full well that not many men actually showed that kind of emotion towards their girlfriends or wives.

It made you fall deeper and deeper in love with him each day, despite the fact that you were already head over heels for him. It made your feelings grow stronger, making you want to spend every waking moment with him and wake up next to him each morning.

TAGLIST

@lovelynikol16

if you'd like to be added to the taglist, pls leave a comment <3

[m0nsterqzzz]

Cat's Out of the Bag La Rue

pairing: Clarisse La Rue x reader

summary: Valentines Day rolls around, and what kind of girlfriend would Clarisse be if she didnt get you the only present you've been wanting?

a/n: i wrote like 5 fucking valentines day fics yesterday (one with natasha, one with wanda, one with clarisse, one with carol danvers, and one with katniss everdeen) yet this is the only one im posting and i kinda hate it. literally the shortest oneshot i've ever written. also, I'm literally a dog person writing about cats. what has life come to?

is this the worst thing i've ever written? yes. do i hate every other piece of written recently cuz im in writers block and haven't updated in like 3 weeks? also yes. im so done yall.

With a baseball cap covering her head, tucking her curls against her head and being the best disguise she could come up with, Clarisse’s eyes dart all around the cab. It zooms through the streets of New York, making the child of Are’s slightly concerned for her and her siblings safety as they get honked out. The man driving seems like he’s barely paying attention to the road, but in the end it doesn’t really matter as long as they get to their destination. 

There are three children in the yellow car; Clarisse, her half brother Mark, and her half sister Ruby. They were the only ones who she could convince to come with her to town, past the safe bounds of camp half blood where nothing but their weapons can stop monsters from hunting and hurting them.

It’d be a lie to say Clarisse isn’t nervous, but she pushes the feeling down as she grips her spear tighter in her left hand. 

This is for you. She’s going into town and risking getting in trouble for the end result of seeing her favorite smile. Your smile. Her partner of one year. It may not seem like a very long time to some people, but you guys are demigods. It’s surprising you made it through the year without being killed by some horrible, ugly monster.

The car stops and the guy counts the large amount of money Mark hands him before telling them to get out of his cab. It may have annoyed the teenagers on any other day, but it doesn’t bother them too much since today is a special day.

“Why are we here?” Ruby asks, eyes scanning the area around them as if sure something is going to jump out at them. In the blonde haired girl's defense, it’s very possible something will.

Clarisse gestures to the small building in front of them. It’s run down and in desperate need of a paint job, but it doesn’t matter. That’s not what grabs the child of Ares attention. It’s the small animals chilling in their little spots inside the store. That’s what she’s here for.

The sign above the small colorful store reads, “Mike’s Animals”. Boring name, but gets the point across. She can already see the little animal she came here for when they walk through the door, the loud bell ringing from the action of opening it but no employee comes to help them. Clarisse lets her siblings stare in awe at the other animals for a few months before shoving towards a section near the back. The kitten section. You had been showing her a website on your phone a few days ago, one with a different selection of the small animals. The website was for Mike’s Animals, but you explained that even though you’d really like a cat, pets aren’t allowed in Camp Half Blood. It’s a rule.

Well you wanna know what Clarisse says about that? Screw rules. What her person want’s, her person gets.

So if the police ever come around, asking you why Clarisse shoved a black and white kitten into her brother's coat pocket and then made a run for it while the store manager chased after them, that’s what you have to say.

-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-

You're laying on your bed reading a book when your girlfriend walks in, a large box covered by a piece of fabric under one arm and a bouquet of flowers in her free hand. She ignores your siblings' gazes as she walks towards your space, setting down the box with a type of gentleness nobody in camp but you gets to see and then holding out the flowers.

They’re your favorite, clearly straight out of the flower fields by the slight glow they give off. They’re wrapped in a brown type of paper with a pink bow clearly down by one of the Aphrodite kids to hold it all together.

“Hey my love.” She starts. “These are for you.” You take the plants with a large grin on your face, bringing them closer to your face to smell the amazing natural scent coming from them. Something moves inside the box she sat on your bed, making you hold in a scream as you jump closer to your girlfriend and farther away from it. “What the hell is moving in that Clarisse?!” You ask, your siblings' attention all over you guys now.

Clarisse just laughs, but she seems slightly nervous as she puts the crate in your lap. “Just look. I hope you like it.” She continues to nervously ramble as you remove the cloth from the top of the box, letting out a small gasp when you see the small animal looking back at you with wide, curious blue eyes.

Your girlfriend stares as you gently pick him up, him instantly curling into your hold with a soft pur as you hold him close to your chest. “You um…you like him?” She asks with a small smile.

“Of course I do! He’s adorable, Risse!” She lets out a relieved sigh, laying down next to you as your siblings surround the bed trying to get a look at the animal. “You know Chiron will never let you keep that right?” One of your brothers asks with a laugh, and you frown as you look at your girlfriend.

She thinks about it for a moment before she says, “We’ll just hide him. He can lounge around the cabin while you’re gone, and you guys can hide him somewhere during cabin checks. Chiron will never know.”

Your siblings eventually leave you alone, going back to their acticicus as your two favorite beings cuddle up to you. Clarisse cuddles up next to your side, and the kitten on your stomach. “I really like you Oreo.” you whisper to the animal, making your girlfriend laugh. “Oreo? That’s the most original thing you could think of right?”

“Okay if you're so great at naming things, what should we name him?”

She goes quiet for a few seconds before mumbling in defeat, “I like Oreo.”

You guys enjoy the silence that surrounds just you guys as you pet Oreo, but then a small laugh comes from you when Clarisse gently grabs the cat and pulls him off your chest so she can lay her head there. “He’s been here for half an hour and you're already jealous?” “He was getting way too touchy. Mine.” She teases and then fakes an annoyed groan when he crawls onto her back and lays down, stretching himself out just to prove a point.

“Will you be my Valentine, my love?” She asks as she places her chin on your chest to look up at you. There's a certain softness in her eyes that you and only you get to see. In fact, it’s very, very rare you ever see the side everyone else talks about when they talk about Clarisse towards you. “You guys just don’t know her like I do.” You tell them. Not like they believe you, half of the camp still believing you somehow put a spell on her.

“Only if you’ll be mine.” You whisper back as if it’s a secret.

“Oh…this is awkward. I already agreed to be like ten other girls date.” Her voice is teasing as she tries and fails not to giggle.

“Is that so?” 

“Mhm.” 

“Hm.” You fake being offended as you cross your arms over your chest and look away. She laughs, and the sound practically forces a smile on your face.

“I’m kidding. Only you, angel. I’m yours. Always.” 

“And I’m yours, Clarisse La Rue.” 

“Always?” 

“And forever.”

There’s a knock on your cabin door, and you figure it’s another camper until a voice calls from the other side of the door, “Clarisse? I know you're in there. Your siblings told me where you went. Cat’s out of the bag La Rue.” Chiron says. Very terrible choice of words. She groans into your stomach, rolling off of you and successfully getting Oreo to jump off her back and onto the bed.

“Those little snitches.” She snarls as she gets up to open the door, making you instantly miss her warmth.

You place the cat under your sweater, giggling and then shoving his face back under when he crawls to put his head through the neck hole. Once she knows he’s covered, Clarisse opens the door. Chirons eyes fall to you, and it’s only then do you think about the fact that there is a giant Oreo shaped lump in your sweater.

All your siblings fall silent as they watch to see what’s gonna happen.

“Mac and cheese day am I right?” You try to joke with a nervous chuckle, but he doesn’t laugh. He just runs a hand over his face and then stares at you. “You know what? I don’t care. You find a way to feed him that isn’t taking resources from us, you make sure he doesn’t do any damage to the furniture, and you keep track of him at all times, you can keep him.”

You grin at him, letting the small animal out of your sweater who in turn lowly hisses at the sight of Chiron.

He groans, walking off as he mumbles something about needing a very long vacation. There's only so much of your girlfriend bending the rules to get you presents he can handle before he was bound to just accept it.

The cinatar leaves, your girlfriend flipping him off when he can’t see. He yells over his shoulder, “I know what you’re doing Clarisse! Stop it or no dessert!” 

She stops flipping him off. Next to you, chocolate cake is what she lives for.

-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-

That night, as you sit with Clarisse at the bonfire, she listens to you complain about how much you miss Oreo. Usually, you’d be too busy roasting marshmallows and cuddling with her to think about anything else, but your girlfriend doesn’t do anything other than smile, happy she made you so happy.

“So how’d you get him anyway? You don’t have that kind of money and there’s no way Chiron gave it to you.” You say, and she freezes in her spot on a log, slightly tightening her arms that are wrapped around your waist as she avoids your eyes.

“I stole him.” Her voice is slightly quieter than usual, and she says this in the most casual tone she can muster.

“CLARISSE LA RUE!”

[scary-grace]

if my heart was a house - a shigaraki x f!reader fic

It's been nineteen years since Tomura was sentenced to death, and you've built a life in the space he left behind, braced each day for the worst. You're prepared for everything - the questions your daughter asks, the memories that sting a little more in the winter, the specter of the news you've been afraid of for years. But of all the things life's thrown your way, it's the one you haven't dared to hope for might be the one thing you can't handle. (cross-posted to Ao3) The prequel can be found here: what I can't remember now written for @pixelcafe-network's Challenge Friday event! Banner/divider by @cafekitsune

You know even before you open your eyes that it’s snowed overnight. The world always sounds too quiet afterwards, and you used to have so many words to describe it – almost comforting, almost eerie, almost serene. But that was when you were young. Now you’d replace all those words with a different one: Empty. You used to love the winter, the first snowfall of the year, and you still do. But it always reminds you of him. And he’s gone.

He’s been gone for years now. The length of time you spent with him has been swallowed six times over by the time you’ve spent alone, and you’d like to think that even in the beginning, you wore your sadness well. Now, nineteen years in, it barely shows. You keep it buried through spring, summer, autumn – until the first frost, the first freezing rain, the first icicles on the eaves and the first drifts of snow on the ground, when it crawls free of the grave and sprawls on top of you at night. You met Tomura in the winter. Fell in love with him by spring. You got two more winters with him after that, and then he was gone, and nothing can fill the space he left behind.

But even if one chamber of your heart is frozen open for good, the rest is still alive. And there’s room for a different kind of love, a way for you to translate your grief rather than buckle beneath its weight. There’s a knock at the door to your room, and your daughter’s voice slips cautiously in. “Mom? Are you awake?”

“I’m awake,” you say, and you blink away the tears. “Come in.”

Even at eighteen, Chihiro still hesitates before she steps across the threshold, but once she’s made the choice, she throws herself onto the bed with abandon. “We got half a meter. That’s even more than the forecast said.”

“And we’ve still got power. Lucky us.” You wipe your eyes, just in case, and turn to face her. “Good morning, kiddo.”

“How long do I have to be kiddo? I’m almost done with high school.”

“Okay, you’re right,” you compromise, even as your throat tightens. She’s never met her father, never will, but the tone in her voice when she’s putting her foot down reminds you painfully of him. “What should I call you instead?”

“My name. You’re the one who picked it out.” Chihiro’s dressed in her pajamas with a hoodie thrown over them, and you can see her phone lighting up through the front pocket. “Don’t you like it anymore?”

“I love it,” you say, “Chihiro. Did you sleep okay?”

She nods. There’s something on her mind. You can tell by the way her brow furrows, and the way her mouth thins tells you that she’s planning to keep it quiet. Or that she’ll try. Chihiro has a hard time keeping her feelings inside. She and Tomura have that in common, but while you always gave Tomura space to figure out how to say what he needed to, you always let Chihiro know you’re aware, and listening. “What’s going on up there, Chihiro, my daughter who’s almost done with high school?”

She rolls her eyes, but a smile is pulling up the corner of her mouth. Her smile’s always been a little lopsided, but so has yours. “There’s only one morning of the year you ever sleep in,” she says. “The first time it snows. And then you’re different all day – not mad or depressed or anything. Just different. I was wondering why.”

“I’m sorry,” you say at once. “I’m not upset with you. It’s not anything you did. You could never do anything that would –”

“I know, Mom.” Chihiro’s crimson eyes are intent on your face. “It’s one day. You get to be weird if you need to. I just wanted to know – is it because of him? My dad?”

When she was little, you’d lie, and tell her the snow is so pretty that you can’t help but get emotional about it. There was a while where she didn’t ask. But she’s old enough now that you can admit it. You think. “Yeah,” you say. Your voice is steady. You’re proud of that. “This is around the time of year when I first met him. It brings back memories.”

“Good ones?” Chihiro settles into the pillows the way she used to when she wanted a bedtime story. “Tell me.”

You hesitate. “Not the gross stuff,” Chihiro clarifies. “I don’t want to know about that. Kaori’s mom tells her all about that stuff. And she bought her a vibrator for her birthday.”

“Huh,” you say after a second. “That’s sex-positive of her.”

“You’re being nice. What do you really think?”

You think she reminds you of Tomura. He never let you duck behind the niceties; he always wanted to know your real reaction. “I think it’s weird. Especially if Kaori didn’t ask.”

“She definitely didn’t. She’s really shy.” Chihiro grimaces. “I’m glad you’re not weird like that.”

Not weird is a good thing. Maybe. “You know I’m here if you need to talk about –”

“No, Mom. Gross.” Chihiro buries her face in the pillow. “Tell me about my dad.”

“Okay,” you say. “Your dad. He, um – there was something about him. I never met someone like him before, and I haven’t since. He told the truth about stuff, even if it wasn’t pretty, and he said what he thought even if it was a bad time. One time we went on a double date with one of his friends and their new boyfriend, and the first question out of your dad’s mouth was whether the boyfriend had drawn his facial hair on.”

Chihiro wheezes. “That’s awful,” she says, but she’s laughing – just like you were. “Had he, though?”

“We never got an answer,” you say, and Chihiro laughs harder. “Your dad could be a jackass sometimes, even to people he liked, but when it really mattered, he’d –”

Kill for them. You swallow the words. “He was there for people when they needed him,” you say instead. “He was always there for me. Even if he didn’t know the right thing to say, I could count on him to listen. And he never gave me a hard time for standing up for myself. Not even when we argued about things.”

You were sort of a pushover early on. You were worried that saying no would make you difficult, and being difficult would make him want to leave. It wasn’t how you were most of the time, or how you’d been before you and Tomura got together, and he wasn’t scared to call you out. You remember the grin on his face the first time you really put your foot down about something, set a boundary and held it. I knew you were in there somewhere, he said. This is how I like you.

That was something you loved about being with Tomura: You were good for each other. You made each other better. “It sounds like you were happy,” Chihiro ventures, and you nod. “Do you think you’d have gotten married sometime? Did you guys want kids?”

Married, maybe. Your friends and his all used to joke that the two of you were the old married couple of the group, but while you talked about the future, you almost never talked about marriage to go with it. Not until it was almost the end, and you never made it to the discussion, any discussion, about having kids. Your pregnancy was catastrophic because of what happened before it, but even if it hadn’t been, it would have raised a lot of questions that neither you nor Tomura knew how to answer. “We were really young,” you say. “I was only twenty-two. We hadn’t had that talk yet. But I think we’d have talked about it if –”

“Yeah.” Chihiro’s voice is muffled by the pillows. “Did he know about me? Before he died?”

Your stomach clenches in a tight, guilty cramp, one that’s been getting steadily worse over the years. “I didn’t find out until after he was gone.”

“Oh.” Chihiro’s voice goes small and wavering. “Do you think – um – do you think he would have liked me?”

There’s no way to know. That means what you say next isn’t technically a lie. “He would have loved you,” you say. Her shoulders shake, and you rest your hand on her back to settle her, the same as you’ve done since she was a baby. “Just like I do.”

Chihiro turns her head to look at you, her eyes glassy with tears. “Sorry.”

“No, it’s okay. Everything’s okay.” You rub her back in slow circles. “Ask about him whenever you want. I’ll always try to answer.”

“Do you miss him?”

Other than your daughter’s ragged breathing and your own steady, shallow sips of air, there’s no sound in the world. When you open up the blinds, you’ll see an empty snowfield, unmarked by human footprints for a little while longer. Footprints in the snow will be filled in by the next storm or melted away in the thaw, but the marks Tomura left on you are indelible. There will never be room for someone else where he stood, because he’s still standing there, somewhere you can’t reach.

Sometimes you’ve thought, selfishly, that it would be easier if he really was dead, just so you wouldn’t have to cope with knowing that he’s still out there, knowing exactly where he is with no way to get to him. You’ve let Chihiro think he’s dead. You tell yourself it’s easier for her this way. It’s better that she doesn’t know what really happened to Tomura. The fact that you know is bad enough.

“Mom?” Chihiro asks, and you realize you never answered her question. “Do you still miss my dad?”

You still love him. That’s the same thing. “I do,” you say. “Every day.”

Chihiro cries herself out, and then it’s time to get moving. Her school has a late start, not a snow day, and you still have to go to work. You make a special breakfast anyway, play the music you and she used to dance to when she was little, and soon your daughter’s smiling again. Chihiro doesn’t have trouble being happy, not like you and Tomura both did. Still do, probably. Your depression was just that, but the sheer weight of Tomura’s past regularly threatened to crush him, and you doubt the nineteen years he’s already spent in prison have done anything to improve things.

But Chihiro knows how to be happy, and you know, because she tells you when she’s not. You’re not naive enough to think your teenager tells you everything, but she knows she can talk to you. And she does talk to you, getting steadily back to herself as you eat breakfast and clean up and get ready, her for school, you for work. Then the two of you crunch your way to the car and start digging it out of the snow. The snowplows must have been out last night and early this morning, because the road doesn’t have much in the way of accumulation. You’ll have to be careful of ice.

You’re both a little sweaty under your winter coats when you get in the car at last. “I’m already gross,” Chihiro complains. “Why can’t we get a garage or something?”

“Where would we put it?”

“In your room,” Chihiro says. You snort. “Or in mine. Since I’m going to uni soon.”

Your heart sinks whenever she says that, but you’ll be damned before you let it show. “You’ll still need somewhere to stay when you come back,” you say. “Maybe we don’t really need a kitchen.”

Chihiro rolls her eyes. “What? You’re not planning to turn my room into, like, a sewing room or something once I go to school?”

"No," you say. "My parents did that when I went away. I hated it."

Looking back, you took it way too personally. They weren’t saying they were done with you, or that the place you’d grown up wasn’t home anymore. You were just hurting, and looking desperately for a reason why. Coming back on school break to find your room cleaned out was a good one. “I’m not going to do that,” you say to Chihiro.“Even when you live somewhere else, you’ll always have a place with me.”

Chihiro glances sideways at you. “Kaori’s mom is freaking about her moving away.”

“Kaori’s mom freaks out a lot,” you say. You and she should have bonded, because you’re the only single moms in this small town, but Kaori’s mom makes you nervous. “How does Kaori feel about it?”

“Her mom will be fine. She’s not worried.” Chihiro pauses for a long moment. “I am, though.”

Your grip on the steering wheel goes white-knuckled. “About Kaori’s mom?”

“About you,” Chihiro says. You reach a stop sign, come to a full stop, and turn to look at her. There’s a stubborn set to her jaw that’s all too familiar. “Kaori’s mom is crazy. But Kaori’s mom has a life. She goes out some nights and her friends come to visit and she has parties and hobbies —“

“I have hobbies,” you protest.

“Yeah. Your hobby means you hang out in the house all day,” Chihiro says. “You can't carry your sewing machine and all your fabric to a craft party. Maybe if you learned to knit or something —“

“I’m not going to knit.”

“Something,” Chihiro says firmly. “Something that means you’re not alone all the time. I’m excited to go to uni. I’m worried about what’s going to happen to you when I leave.”

You’ve fucked up, big-time. “Chihiro, I understand why you —“ No, you don’t. All you understand is that you were stupid to think your damage didn’t show, awful for making Chihiro think she has any responsibility for your mess of an internal life at all. “It’s not your job to make sure I’m okay. I can take care of myself.”

“It’s not about taking care of yourself,” Chihiro fires back. “It’s about being happy. You want me to be happy, right?”

“Of course I do,” you say. “I love you.”

“I love you, Mom.” Chihiro says it bluntly, unashamedly. “So I want you to be happy, too.”

You don’t know what to say. It’s quiet, and it keeps being quiet, until a car pulls up behind you and honks its horn. You refocus on driving in a hurry. With you distracted, Chihiro pushes the point. “You barely even talk to people, Mom. Kaori’s mom thinks you hate her because you never say yes when she asks to hang out.”

“I don’t hate her,” you say. Chihiro’s skeptical look skewers you to the seat. “Look, she’s just not — it’s complicated.”

“No it’s not,” Chihiro says. “Next time she asks to hang out, say yes.”

No. “What if I sign up for an art class at the community center instead?”

“Do that, too,” Chihiro says. You grimace. “You want me to be happy. I’ll be happy if I know you’re talking to other people and doing stuff that’s not in the house. I don’t want to come back on a school break and find out you’ve only been talking to the trees or something.”

She pauses. “I guess you can talk to them a little. As long as you don’t start thinking they talk back.”

“Got it.”

You drop Chihiro off at school less than a minute before the bell rings, but she still makes you get out of the car and hug her. She hugs really tight. She got that from you. Tomura used to complain jokingly that you were a boa constrictor in a girlfriend suit. You kiss her forehead and send her on her way, then get back in the car and drive to work, feeling even worse than you did when you opened your eyes to a snowy silence this morning.

Chihiro’s wrong about Kaori’s mom. It is complicated — not because you hate her, but because she’s the nosiest person in town, and because you’ve got a lot to hide. You didn’t mean to have a lot to hide. It was just something that happened, and as the years since Tomura’s conviction have unfolded, you’ve gotten steadily more attached to the lie. It’s not about you. It’s about Chihiro, who shouldn’t have to live with the knowledge that her father’s a convicted murderer awaiting execution in supermax prison, who shouldn’t have to deal with people looking at her differently. It’s about Chihiro. It’s not about you.

Or so you tell yourself. But there’s a reason you fled from Tokyo in the aftermath of Tomura’s sentencing, why you cut off contact with his friends and yours, why you dyed your hair and changed your phone number and nuked your social media along with every email address you ever had. People hated Tomura. And because you were with him, they hated you, too. It didn’t matter that you knew nothing. That the murders he was accused of committing took place before you met him. Even if you’d dumped him the second he was arrested, you’d have been called stupid for not seeing it all along. You couldn’t hack it. You were headed for a breakdown at high speed. But you would have stayed, if Tomura hadn’t told you to go.

The last time you spoke to him was after his sentencing, as they were taking him away. You seized his hands, already cuffed, his wrists chafed raw, and for a split second, he held on so tightly that one of your fingers broke. Then he looked up, hopeless fury in his eyes. Get out of here. Don’t come back. I don’t want you to watch.

You thought he meant he didn’t want you to watch him being shoved into an armored truck for transport, but when your letters came back unopened, when he refused to let you visit or even call him, you realized the truth. He wanted you gone, just as completely as he was gone from you. That moment in the courtroom was the last one you’d ever have with him. And that was what tripped the breakdown at last. You were throwing up too much to overdose and you were too chicken to try another way, so you went to the doctor to figure it out so you could kill yourself with your chosen method. You just wanted anti-nausea pills. The doctor did bloodwork, made you give a urine sample, and gave you a diagnosis.

“Hyperemesis gravidarum,” he said, and you looked at him blankly. “You’re pregnant.”

He expected you to get an abortion. Everybody and their mother probably expected you to get an abortion. If Tomura had been there, if your accidental pregnancy had been something the two of you were dealing with together, it probably wouldn’t have even been a question. And for any other pregnancy, it would have been the only viable option in your mind. But when you thought about it, about this pregnancy, your mind rejected the idea so violently that you threw up again. You couldn’t get rid of this baby. You needed it. Looking back, you know your reasons were terrible. You had a kid so you wouldn’t be alone. So you’d keep some memory of Tomura close to you always. So you’d have a reason to keep getting up in the morning, a reason to eat and sleep and exercise, a reason to find a new job in your new town and work hard at it. So someone would need you. So you could do something with your agony at losing Tomura, grab it with both hands and twist it back into love. Deciding to have the baby was the most selfish thing you’ve ever done. And raising Chihiro, loving her, is the most important thing you’ll ever do.

She’s right about you. You do live for her. And if that means signing up for a pottery class at the community center and agreeing to grab tea with Kaori’s crazy mom so she won’t worry, that’s what you’ll do.

You work in the combined billing/records/HR department at your town’s medical clinic, with occasional ventures to the front desk when a receptionist is out sick. You spend a lot of time staring at the computer, a lot of time on the phone, and very little time talking to your coworkers — but you’ve been here for seventeen years, longer than almost anyone else. You were working here before some of your coworkers were out of primary school.

Dr. Kawada is your age, though. He greets you as you walk in. “Glad you made it. Anybody who lives past the town limits is staying home.”

“They should. The roads are terrible even with the plows out.” You hang up your coat, then sit down and power up your computer. “How many patients do you think we’ll get?”

“We have a ton of cancelations already,” Keiko, the nurse-practitioner, reports. She would be the one to make it in — Kawada would crawl here with his teeth if he had to, and she’s his wife, so of course she tagged along. “And there was a call for you, bright and early.”

“For billing? Somebody must have been losing sleep.”

“Not for billing. For you,” Keiko admonishes. “I forwarded it to your phone. It seemed kind of urgent.”

You log into your computer, then decide to check the message while you’re waiting for it to perk up. The voice on the other end of the line is completely unfamiliar. “Hi there. My name is Midoriya Izuku, and I’m a lawyer with the —" There’s a really loud sound on the other end of the line, completely obliterating whatever he was about to tell you about the organization he’s part of. “Due to confidentiality I can’t share much over the phone, but it’s really important that I get in touch with you! Please call me back to arrange a meeting —“

You hang up and delete the message. You don’t like lawyers, and this guy sounds like he has prosecutor written all over him. Or else he’s a reporter lying to you about his credentials to trick you into giving him a quote. The twenty-year anniversary of Tomura’s conviction is coming up, and there were articles at the ten-year mark, too. You’re more concerned about how this Midoriya Izuku got your number in the first place. You’re not easy to find. You made yourself tough to find on purpose.

It’s a quiet day at the office. Almost all the appointments are canceled, which means that the walk-ins get seen almost immediately, and you have time to start on your end-of-the-year reports. And time to talk, because Keiko and Dr. Kawada are in talkative moods, and you’re the best and only target. “How’s Chihiro?” Keiko asks. “Has she picked a school?”

“Not yet. Still weighing her options,” you say. And then, because you’re tired: “She’s worried about what will happen to me once she leaves.”

“Tell her not to worry. We’ll take care of you!” Dr. Kawada says with a grin. “What’s she worried about, anyway? You seem fine.”

“I am fine. But I’m signing up for an art class so she’ll stop worrying that I’m going to wither away alone,” you say. Dr. Kawada snorts. “How I’m doing isn’t her responsibility. She didn’t ask to be born and I didn’t have her so she could take care of me.”

“Nobody thinks that,” Keiko says. She gives you a weird look, but then she changes the subject. “Hey, but even once she moves out, you don’t have to be alone! Me and Shogo know lots of people we want to set you up with!”

You’re pretty sure your face goes dead white. “What?”

“I mean, I know you haven’t been seeing anyone since you moved here —"

“Because it’s not about me anymore. It’s about Chihiro.”

“Yeah, but if it’s about Chihiro, shouldn’t you want her not to worry?” Kawada’s not helping. You feel like you might be sick. “I moved here right around when you did and I’ve never seen you date anybody. Things must have gone down real bad with your ex —"

“Shogo!” Keiko swats him, mortified, then looks at you. “Sorry. He should know better.”

“Chihiro’s dad isn’t my ex,” you say. “He’s — gone.”

It’s the same trick you’ve been pulling on Chihiro since she was old enough to ask, and it works on adults, too. Kawada backs off, chagrined. “Sorry,” he says. There’s an awkward silence. “I’ve known you for seventeen years. How did I miss that?”

“I don’t like to talk about it.” You don’t even like thinking about Tomura, but every winter, it’s unavoidable. Every winter the sadness curls up around you, and although time is supposed to heal things, it’s never gotten any easier to throw off come spring. “I wouldn’t wish it on anybody.”

“Yeah,” Keiko agrees. Her eyes are sad. “Still. Tell Chihiro not to worry. We’ll keep an eye on you.”

You force a smile, force your eyes to brighten. “Thank you.”

It’s the clinic’s slowest day in a while, and you spend a lot of it screwing around on the computer. You sign up for an art class, one that meets the same night as Chihiro’s choir practice, so you can pick her up on the way home. You google therapists, too — maybe she’ll feel better if she knows you have one. And maybe you need one. Chihiro’s your daughter, the most important person in the world, the one you’d sacrifice everything to care for. Caring for her takes up most of your thoughts, distracts you from the pain of losing Tomura. Once Chihiro goes away for school, there won’t be anything left to keep your sadness at bay.

Tomura’s been on death row for nineteen years. They could execute him at any time, and you’d never know until his name was released by the government. During his trial, when you realized the death penalty was on the table, you looked up how it would happen. It still haunts you sometimes. You don’t want to think of Tomura with his neck broken, his eyes open and staring, dying with feet chained together and his hands bound behind his back. You want to remember him before it all went wrong. Back when you still believed he was the best thing that ever happened to you.

You met him at university, on a day when the campus was iced over. Your on-campus job started early, which meant you had to make your way to the library on paths that wouldn’t be de-iced for another hour. Tomura had an early class. He was headed the opposite way from you, and you were both so focused on not slipping and falling that you walked headlong into each other and fell on your asses anyway.

Your backpack slid from your shoulders, and the papers Tomura was carrying scattered across the path. Fuck, Tomura said, with feeling, and you laughed. What’s so funny? You fell down, too.

I know, but — An image popped into your head and set you off all over again. We look like we’re in a cartoon. Except without the stars and planets around our heads.

No stars and planets? I want a refund, Tomura said, and cracked a smile that opened up a split in his lower lip. Damn it —

Here. You retrieved your fallen backpack and a packet of tissues, then started gathering the papers Tomura had dropped. Sorry. It looked like you were in a hurry to go somewhere.

Comp-Sci building. I’m never signing up for a 7am again. Tomura’s phone buzzed, and he yanked it out of his pocket. And now it’s canceled. Motherfucker. I have to walk all the way back —

Maybe not all the way, you said, and he looked at you. I work at the library. It’s definitely open. You can hang out there until they get the paths salted.

Tomura looked at you, the tissue still pressed to his bloody lip. You didn’t know his name yet, didn’t know anything about him, but there was something you liked about his face. Something you liked about how he still got in on your joke, even though he was pissed about the fall. Something about the fact that he hadn’t gotten up yet, even though you’d gathered all his papers and were holding them out for him to take. I’ll level with you, he said after a second. I’ve never been to the library.

I get that a lot, you said, and you stood up. The plan was to hold out your hand to help him up, but you moved too fast, and your feet slid out from under you again. You managed to hang on to Tomura’s papers, but you went down hard. Fuck!

Tomura didn’t ask if you were okay. He just lifted the papers out of your hands, set them aside, and helped you sit up with hands that shook ever so slightly. I’m surprised you swore, he said, and you raised an eyebrow. You look like the type who says fiddlesticks instead.

Fuck off, you said, and he laughed. Making him laugh felt like an achievement, one you were proud to win. Looking back, that was when you knew you were in trouble. Maybe we should just crawl to the library.

It’s cold. Walking’s faster. Tomura got shakily to his knees, then his feet, and you copied him. I bet we can make it.

He stumbled twice on the way there, and you stumbled once, but neither of you fell again. You were leaning on each other to balance, more contact than you ever made with guys you weren’t dating, and nothing about it felt tense or awkward. It was just the only thing that made sense to do.

And that’s how everything was with Tomura. It just made sense, and you were so happy — and you think Tomura was, too. You fought sometimes, sure, but everyone does. Sometimes you didn’t know the right thing to say, but neither did he. He had a rough past, and you didn’t push him to talk about it. You just let him share what he wanted to, when he wanted to, and towards the end you had something close to the whole picture. It just didn’t have the murders in it.

No. You don’t want to think about this. You know what you believe about this, and going in a circle won’t help solve anything. You decide to redirect your feelings of frustration by looking up the lawyer who called you. Sure enough, he’s a prosecutor— or he was. Looking at the profile on his law firm’s website, you’re not sure what he does. He was in the news a year or so ago. Some case involving the yakuza.

The bell rings, and since Keiko’s on break and the receptionist got snowed in, you hurry up to the front to check the new patient in. It’s a good distraction. It helps to stay busy. When you’re busy, you don’t have to think about any of it — not Tomura, not the fact that he’s gone, not the fact that your daughter is leaving soon, too. And you don’t have to think about how it won’t be long before all your distractions run out.

[xneens]

Strauss asking reader into her office to talk about the tiktoks reader made about Hotch? 🤭

You haven't even greeted the team before Strauss sends you an email, asking you to meet her in her office as soon as you get in. You can't help but feel annoyed at the message, dropping your stuff off in a huff on your desk.

When you knock on her opened door, you see Aaron sitting in one of the chairs across from her, eyebrows raised when he sees you enter. "You wanted to see me?"

Strauss nodded, gesturing to you to come inside. As you shut the door behind you, she continued. "I wanted to talk to you and Agent Hotchner about a few videos you posted that are questionable."

Immediately you know what she's talking about. Glancing at Aaron with fear in your eyes, you saw his lips twitching, fighting back a smile. You don't know whether to be embarrassed and mortified or annoyed he isn't as worried as you.

Clearing your throat, you turned back to your boss's boss, slowly sitting down in the chair next to Aaron. "What videos?"

You see Aaron cover his lips with his hand when Strauss pulls out her laptop, a video you made from your TikTok account on the screen. Without a single word, she hits play and Umbrella fills the office as you lip sync to it with Aaron in the background looking up after a second and a smile forming on his face.

In the caption you've written, "When he's a 6'2", 45-year-old criminal profiler in a suit and tie." while lip-syncing the "Come into me" part of Rihanna's song. When the video ends, you look over at Aaron and see he's expressionless. You start to panic.

"Oh ... That one. I see." you said, inwardly slapping yourself for the answer. Strauss

raised an eyebrow. "What about it?"

"There's more," Strauss replied, ignoring your question as she clicks on another video.

You can't help but cringe as the sound plays very loudly. When the video finishes, she raises an eyebrow. "Now what did you mean when you said 'catch me on that dick tryna ride like a rodeo' with a picture of Agent Hotchner?”

You can't help the awkward laugh that escapes you because despite not knowing if you're in trouble or not, Strauss saying dick made you giggle. "Technically, I didn't say it. It was the song."

"You wrote it in the caption, didn't you?"

“. .. Yeah."

Silence fills the room and before you can ask, she pulls up a video of you filming

Aaron-who was well aware of the video, by the way, with the caption "Him in a beard >>" and the sound of dogs barking as the audio. You hear a nearly inaudible laugh from the man sitting next to you but you don't dare look.

Strauss clicks on another TikTok, but instead of a video, it was photos in a slideshow. You had to bite your tongue when the "Get destroyed or get destroyed" caption showed up along with a picture of Aaron with his tie undone. This was truly the weirdest, most embarrassing, and funniest shit you've gotten in trouble for.

When Strauss doesn't continue showing you videos you made about how hot your boss is—there's so much more, so much that someone might think you're dating—you meet her eyes and give her an apologizing look. "I'm sorry, I didn't know this was against policy."

"It's not," Aaron answers, speaking for the first time since you entered the room. "What did you want to talk to us about, Erin?"

She sighed, closing her laptop. "Aaron, I've told you before, there's no reason to hide this relationship. It's better to tell me what's going on other than have someone else find out and have another sexual harassment meeting again."

"Oh, he and I aren't—" you start to say, gesturing between you and Aaron.

"No, but you'd like to be." Strauss cuts you off, eyes narrowing at Aaron. “There's no policy against coworkers dating but there are rules if you start dating your subordinate."

Aaron nods, glancing briefly at you before speaking. "And what are those rules?"

"You must BCC your emails to each other to someone in HR, and complete the sexual harassment training segment again," she responded.

"Alright," Aaron replies, nodding once again.

You're dumbfounded when she dismisses the both of you, eyes flickering back to Aaron as you walk out of her office. Once you're back at your desk, you turned to him. "Well that was embarrassing.

He snorted. "Not as embarrassing as Bob from HR will be when he reads our emails."

You blinked. "What?"

Aaron smiled, slowly backing up from your desk as he made his way to his office. "We'll have to BCC him in our chats, honey."

[undreaming-fanfiction]

Ghosts

Written for @steddieangstyaugust, inspired by Dead Boy Detectives if you couldn't tell.

Steve should have seen it coming, really. Despite dating, driving the gang around, and being silly with Robin, he'd known for a long time he wouldn't live long enough to amount to anything. Everyone had plans, had a future. But Steve? He'd be lucky if he could give his imminent death a meaning.

Turns out, he couldn't. Or at least, not in the way he wanted.

It didn't matter if it was the guilt he'd been feeling ever since Eddie died and Max ended up brain dead, poor judgment, or simply wanting for the wait to already be over. Whatever the reason, he pulled "an Eddie" in August 1986. He didn't even ask, he just ran out as a distraction while the rest of his friends were trying to evacuate Max from the overran hospital. He got a few swings in, they got a few chomps. Then more than a few. In the end, he way lying on the ground, bleeding out, but his efforts didn't seem to matter. As soon as he took his last breath, the monsters just turned around and went back to Max's room. Steve didn't even have enough time to pray he'd bought them enough time.

"Oh shit. Stupid. So stupid."

Steve froze, or at least got startled. Which was something, you know, for a dead guy. If this was the voice of an angel welcoming him to the afterlife, it sure sounded like-

"Did I look this dumb when I died? I hope not. Why the fuck would you do that, Harrington, huh? Thought they no longer needed you? Can you imagine what it's going to do to Dustin when he finds out?"

Munson.

Steve opened his eyes and sat up. Nothing hurt. Weird.

What was even weirder? He came face to face with Edward Munson, recently deceased.

Eddie shrieked and fell back on his ass. He'd probably been crouching over Steve, but now he was splayed on the hospital floor, gaping at Steve as if he'd seen a-

Oh. Okay.

Steve turned around and grimaced. He was sitting in his own mangled corpse, which he wasn't too thrilled about. He sprung to his feet and, after giving his bloodied face one last look - they didn't get the hair, phew! - turned to Munson. "Fancy meeting you here. Are you, like, my afterlife welcoming comittee?"

Eddie made a vain effort to close his mouth. "Uh, no. Not really. I mean, there probably is someone coming to get you, but if you don't mind, I won't stick around for that. I don't think Death likes me very much, after I bolted on her."

Steve blinked in confusion. "Death…is a woman?"

"Oh yep. Very nice. Didn't even chase me when I freaked out and ran. Um. But you might want to wait for her. I will stick around for a bit longer." Even in death, Eddie hadn't changed. He pulled a strand of his hair in front of his face, and Steve wondered if he could chew on it, now that he was a ghost.

"But why? What is there to do?" Steve paused, thinking. "Wait. Is there something we can actually do? To help?"

That made Eddie laugh, although it was weak and incredulous. "Uh. Harrington. You've just died in like, a pretty painful and sadly heroic way, and your first thought is that you haven't done enough?"

"Doesn't feel like I have. Look," he said, offering Eddie a hand to pull him up, "if Death is coming, I'd rather not be here. Can we go and check on the others?" He wiggled his fingers at Eddie when he didn't respond.

The wiggle must have jolted Eddie's brain awake because he took Steve's hand. It was weird - he could feel the pressure where Eddie's hand met his, but there was no warmth, no texture. Possibly no pain, he thought. Useful.

"Right," Eddie cleared his throat. "Let's go. Just a bit of a warning - I think Will can see us. At least he looked very suspicious when I tried to sneak into your house when you all were staying there, and when I told him to just pretend he didn't notice anything, he nodded. So, uh. I guess he's special or something?"

They would learn quite a few things in their new existence. First of all, Will wasn't special. He just fit the criteria of "nearly died in the Upside Down or the newly merged realities", not just by being in danger, but being so close to death he almost didn't make it. Turns out, Hopper could see them too after his near death experience under the mall, and Hopper couldn't just be shushed.

Half-corporeal hugs were exchanged. Tears were shed, especially by Dustin and Robin. But they were all still together, for now. The danger was near and their grief had to wait.

By not quite so safe experimentation, Steve and Eddie found out that only two things could hurt them - other ghosts and iron. Luckily enough, none of the Upside Down creatures qualified as either. And so the party gained an invisible and indestructible vanguard - Eddie and Steve, both wielding their weapons of choice (Steve was overjoyed that he could just pick up his nail bat, and maybe that was a bit of a giveaway, seeing the bat floating towards the party with no body to hold it). They scouted ahead and reported back, either to Will and Hopper, or just by angrily scribbling in a notebook provided by Nancy. They couldn't sleep, so they would watch over the party in the night, allowing them the so much needed rest.

The months dragged on. Eleven kept her promise and saved Max, and when the pale redhead saw Eddie and Steve even with her damaged eyesight, no one was surprised. And as Upside Down crept further into their world, there were more injuries, more near death experiences, more tearful reunions. After being bitten by a demodog and almost bleeding out, Robin flung herself at Steve the second she could move and babbled about him being the absolute biggest idiot there ever was. He didn't dispute it, but hugged her tighter.

They were making progress. Still not enough to fix things, but they were getting there. And Steve's brain started another countdown to his and Eddie's potential second demise.

"Do you think we'll still be around, when the portal is closed?" he asked Eddie during one of their night vigils. "What if it's just the Upside Down that's keeping us here?"

Eddie, scribbling in a notebook, shrugged. "I don't know, and for the first time in my life - well, death - I don't have enough information to panic about that." He chewed on the pencil, meeting Steve's eyes with caution. "Might be nice though," he said slowly, "to stay. Do some more good, make sure everyone's safe. If you're in."

Steve laughed. "Wait. Are you, Eddie Munson, the mortal enemy of jocks, asking me to join you? Even when we're not neck deep in shit?"

"Mortal enemy…I mean, I lost the mortal part, and it felt so mundane to just keep the enemy. So yes, one position if Eddie Munson's afterlife has just opened up. Will Steven Harrington join me in it?"

Steve thought about it, and maybe he should have thought longer. Maybe he should have considered that eternity is a pretty long time, but his infrequent visits to the church taught him that heaven would mean being with his loved ones. He'd still be around if the party needed him. He'd see Robin off to college. And then, when everyone left…it would be just him and Eddie.

Him and Eddie. What a thought.

He winked at Eddie who, for a ghost, looked like he was sweating bullets. "Take me to the movies first, Munson, and I'm all yours." And then, even if he know neither of them would feel it, he covered Eddie's hand with his. He might have been imagining the gentle spark of warmth, but he decided it was real. He knew it was real.

Eddie smiled at him and interlaced his fingers with Steve's. "I can work with that, big boy."

And for the first time in so many years, the countdown in Steve's head stopped.

[crljhnn]

The older Jefferson

Pairing: Rodrick Heffley x fem!Reader

Summary: After Rowley announces that his older (half-)sister, who lives quite far away and has never met the Heffleys, is going to visit him over the break Susan invites his family over for dinner. Her not being what Rodrick expects, he starts crushing, which results in him trying to impress her - failing horribly.

No physical description; No use of y/n

Word count: 1.9k

Warnings: None

A/N: Hi, just a quick warning that English isn’t my first language and that this is also the first time I’ve ever written a longer text in English that isn’t a school assignment. I also don’t fully understand Tumblr yet, which makes me honestly a bit anxious to post.

[This and a gender-neutral version are also posted on AO3]

“Why haven't you ever mentioned that you have an older Sister?” Rowley and Greg were sitting on the Heffleys living room floor - Rodrick occupying the whole space on the couch - playing a video game. Well, Greg was. It was a single-player. He promised they would take turns, but by now Rowley had been over for about two and a half hours and hadn’t even had the chance to touch the controller yet. He gave up on asking and settled on just watching about 45 minutes in.

“I talked about her before. Multiple times actually.” That is true. Rowley looks up to his sister a lot “Also, she is technically my Half-Sister. She’s been living with her Dad for longer than I remember. Normally we are the ones flying over to visit during summer break, but she hasn’t visited since she was a little Kid, and after her school schedule finally allowed it, we thought it would be a good idea if she, for a change, came here instead.”

“It sounds like you two get along great!” Mrs. Heffley walked in, holding a laundry basket under one arm while carrying Manny with the other.

“We do! I can’t wait to show her my room and have her around for the entire break! I have so much planned out already, it's gonna be so much fun! Best summer ever!”

“That sounds lovely Rowley, I wish Greg was so excited to hang out with Rodrick, but they just won't get along.” Susan sighed, throwing a pitiful glance at her two oldest, who simultaneously let out a laugh hearing this.”

“Yeah, never gonna happen.” Greg says, “I would rather spend the whole summer in school than voluntarily hang out with this idiot.”

“My Sister is actually around the same age as Rodrick.” Rowley buts in. Greg doesn’t understand how this is relevant, but it probably adds to his mother's yearning for her two oldest sons to get along. Rodrick lets out a laugh hearing that.

“I can’t wait to meet them. Just imagine an older, female version of Rowley. That’s actually fucking hilarious!”.

“Watch your language! Also, I'm sure she is wonderful.” Gregs Mom loosens her lecturing stance, turns around, and smiles at Rowley “I would love to have you and your family over for dinner sometime. It has been a while since I’ve seen your parents and I would love to meet your sister.”

“That sounds great Mrs. Heffley. I will ask my parents as soon as I get home!”

That brings us to about a week later, when the Jefferson family, including their oldest daughter, is standing in front of the Heffleys House, ringing their doorbell.

Rowley has been telling you all about his best friend Greg for years, which made you somewhat excited about finally meeting him. However, you can’t say that the picture your brother painted is entirely positive, finding him rather irritating in many of the stories you were told over time. You aren't too mad though, assuming it is normal for young, teenage boys to act like jerks every once in a while. Not everyone can be such a sweetheart as Rowley. Overall you're glad your brother managed to maintain such a long-lasting friendship.

And then there was Rodrick. You've heard rather interesting stories about him as well. In the beginning, you found those quite amusing, that was until you realized that Rowley was genuinely terrified of him. Not the best first impression someone could make on you. Influenced by seeing your younger sibling grow up to be such a sweet and genuine person you tend to be a bit protective from time to time.

You hear some hushed voices from inside, and you can identify one of them as female, reminding someone to behave. Then the door opens and a woman, who you assume to be Mrs. Heffley, kindly smiles at you. Your suspicion is confirmed a second later when she introduces herself and shoos you into the house, before continuing to greet the rest of your family.

Crossing the threshold you can now see a man standing slightly behind Greg's mother. He introduces himself as Frank, making quite a kind impression on you. Then he leads you into the living room to meet his sons.

The two older ones hardly even notice you at first, too occupied with arguing and rowing with each other.

“Boys!”, their father speaks up, successfully catching their attention. Rather comically their gazes fall from their father to you, their eyes widening and their mouths dropping open. You were not what they expected. While Greg looks just shocked, you would describe Rodricks state as mesmerized.

He recovers fast, pushes Greg off of him, stands up, and puts on what he hopes is a charming smile. Extending his hand he starts to introduce himself.

“Hi, I’m-”

At least he tries to.

“Rodrick. I know. My brother has told me one or two rather interesting stories about you”, your smile is sharp. He gulps, his confident smile turning sheepish, cursing Rowley in his head. You are not what he expected and you are definitely not anywhere close to being a female carbon copy of your, in his eyes, embarrassing younger brother.

He normally wouldn’t consider himself the kind of person who has a type, but from now on, if someone asked, he would probably revert to describing you. You were just ethereal, everything about you was attractive to him. The way you walked, talked, and carried yourself, but also your clothing and hairstyle. Your pretty face just rounds up your whole appearance, making you all the more alluring.

He had to get on your good side. While a family dinner, especially with Greg present, may not be the best opportunity, he could ask Rowley to put in a few good words for him. That kid was easily influenced (or intimidated). Still, making the best possible impression over dinner wouldn’t cause any harm either.

You turn to the other boy who has been silently watching the exchange. Now that your attention is on him he starts feeling nervous as well. Your expression, however, turns a bit more friendly.

“And you must be Greg.” he nods. You introduce yourself and lastly say hello to Manny who is sitting on the floor playing with some figurines. By now the others have entered the room, causing Susan to start leading you all to the dining table.

You’re seated between Rowley and Greg, across from Rodrick, which results in quite frequent eye contact. On one side you really want to intimidate him a bit. This could maybe make your brother's life a bit easier, at least for the time being. On the other side, you do want to make some conversation, maybe throw in a bit of (family dinner appropriate) flirting or at least find out if he’s single.

It’s really hard to hold a grudge against someone who is entirely your type.

While you’re conflicted, Rodrick, on the other hand, is sweating. Nervously fidgeting in his seat. You didn’t seem as irritated with him anymore, if the eye contact was anything to go by. Was this his chance to redeem his shitty first impression? He cursed his brain for failing to come up with something cool to say.

Since when is it so hard to talk to girls? Is it getting hotter in here? What impresses girls? What does he normally brag about? His band! That’s it. Now he just has to bring it up somehow. Maybe he can bribe Greg to ask him about it. No, that’s too risky, he can’t count on Greg to not fuck this up. He is just going to casually bring it up ‘I’m in a band by the way, pretty sick huh?’ ‘Do you like music? Cause I’m in a band’ No that’s stupid everyone likes music… ‘Which kind of music do you listen to?’ That’s good, he should bring up the topic of music first, that’s a normal conversation topic. After that step two is to bring up the band. That’s easy, he got this.

Now he just needs to wait till your attention is on him again and then he can smoothly lead the conversation in the desired direction. He has to calm down, he can do it.

Breathe in.

Breathe out.

Your eyes meet again.

“I’m in a band!” He speaks way louder than intended, his voice is squeaky, and in the middle of the sentence he has the most embarrassing voice crack imaginable.

Silence.

The sole attention is now on him. All he hears is Greg's snickering which causes him to kick him under the table.

“Ow!” That was not Greg's leg. He looks up to see you looking at him with a questioning expression.

That’s it. He fucked up. His chances were already low, but he still managed to shrink them even more, making them most likely completely vanish. Great. His ears were ringing, all he can hear is Greg's quiet laughter in the background.

“I'm sorry I didn’t mean to kick you, I-” he starts his apology but loses track of what he is trying to say when he sees your expression change. You're clearly trying to suppress a smile, but it's not working at all.

“You’re adorable.” Rowley chokes on his food, and Greg's laughter abruptly stops

“Rodrick? Adorable?” That’s it. Greg gives up on ever trying to understand girls. How can his stupid older brother embarrass himself like that, then kick the poor girl under the table and still be perceived as adorable by her, especially since she is so much out of his league?

Rodrick however, was still not functioning properly.

“So that band, is its name by any chance Löded Diaper?”

“Yeah.” He is proud of himself for speaking at an appropriate volume without stuttering. “How do yo-”

“I saw your creepy white Van in front of the house. What’s up with that, kidnapping little kids as a side hustle?” You are still smiling, and with your stupid joke you somehow manage to relax the atmosphere a bit, the adults going back to their conversation.

Rodrick too is now smiling, looking at you with an expression you could only describe as lovestruck, even though you just insulted him.

He is contemplating making a joke about how the space in the back could be quite useful for more than just trapping kids but decides against it, fearing to make it awkward again. Getting nervous about taking too much time to come up with an answer he instead lands on “No only kidnapping pretty girls like you.”. As soon as the words leave his mouth he regrets it, realizing it's in fact not a funny and flirty thing to say, but honestly rather creepy.

At the end of the evening, Rodrick has messed up flirting with you multiple times, however, it’s his luck that you find his desperate attempts to look cool to impress you weirdly endearing. Not that he realizes that. Calling Rodrick confused, questioning why you were still talking to him, would be an understatement.

He certainly doesn’t know how he can have messed up so many times and still end up finding a little note with your number on it in his pullover hood after you left.

[sawbiter]

a field of geranium - yuuji itadori

--

summary ! you and itadori have been together since middle school. when he randomly breaks up with you and disappears from school, you're left heartbroken and completely alone.

warnings / tags ! angst to fluff , exes to lovers , non-sorcerer reader, hopeful ending! implied fem reader, written with a poc reader in mind (skin tone and race unspecified!), past bullying, yuuji is lowkey dumb, reader is stated to be intelligent, lonely reader .. lots of angst. probably not very canon accurate to how curses work but shush.. reader curses a lot lol.

a/n ! hope you guys like this! i loveee yuuji sm .. this probably isnt good i haven't written in a while ;;

--

you remember a time when it felt like yuuji would always be around.

when he would kiss your forehead before classes and during lunch, hold your hand as he walked you to class and write you childish love notes during maths.

you never expected him to break up with you, let alone over text. you'd planned on confronting him at school after he had repeatedly dodged your frantic calls, but when you entered the school, yuuji didn't go there anymore.

it stung. yuuji had been your best friend since middle school, defending you from the bullies who'd pick on you for various things that'd later become insecurities of yours. (sometimes you wonder if those things are why yuuji left.)

going back to eating alone in the single stall bathrooms and having nobody to talk to during passing periods was a hard transition. your parents weren't any help either, telling you that high school relationships never lasted.

(you can't bring yourself to throw away the promise ring he gave you.)

you see him out one day, with a pretty brunette girl, carrying shopping bags for her. you go up to him; he's clearly moved on. (you can understand why. she's gorgeous.) he doesn't seem to notice you.

--

you're sitting alone the class garden for your botanicals class. you remember a time this was your favourite class (it was one with yuuji; go figure.)

now it's filled with bittersweet memories and the grief over someone you know isn't dead.

you're calm as a boy you've never seen before approaches you. your hands are gloved and your hair is a bit messy as you look up at him.

“be careful around here, please. it's class policy not to walk on the soil.” you scold a bit, his boots having crushed one of the plants.

he looks down at you, his face a bit stoic, “sorry.”

“it's alright- did you need something?” you smile at him politely.

he snaps his fingers, frowns a bit, then says “nope,” and walks off.

you'd never seen him before. he didn't even have the right uniform on.

--

“i cannot believe you just made me do that.” megumi rolls his eyes.

yuuji frowns a bit, “i'm sorry but- i can't go up to her.” megumi rolls his eyes as nobara fumes a bit.

“you broke up with her over text. no wonder no girls like you.” she snarks and yuuji just glares at her.

“i had just eaten sukuna's finger! i thought i was gonna die soon anyways!” he argues back,

“well then why haven't you tried to talk to her again? not that she should take you back- i pity the fact that she dated you at all.” nobara speaks as they walk away from the school.

“she probably has new friends anyways, plus she could get hurt, she's not a sorcerer.” yuuji says, his face looking almost like a kicked puppy.

nobara looks at him and raises an eyebrow, “didn't you say you were her only friend? that curse probably attached to her cause she's lonely.” she pops her gum after saying the last sentence.

“even more proof that me being around her is dangerous! plus- what if sukuna gets out around her while i sleep or something?!” he sighs, looking back and sneaking a peak at you in the botanical garden, “she's better off.”

megumi looks at him a bit, “i'm not surprised. you are the self sacrificing type after all.”

“i just think its rude to break up over text with no explanation, you guys were together for so long too.” nobara shrugs a bit.

“if i had spoken to her any more than that, i think i would've tried to stay.“ yuuji frowns.

--

two weeks after the boy approached you in class, your botany teacher dies in a freak accident, or at least that's what the police said. you aren't too sure.

ms. woods was a smart woman. you knew from the lunches you'd spend in her classroom to avoid bullies that she seriously loved plants.

so dying by ingesting a poisonous plant? out of character and frankly, insulting. you know that can't be the whole story.

that boy had something to do with it; it has to be. you look through your yearbooks after he had left; no sight of him. you go through all of your classes, all grades, you ask around. nothing. he didn't go to your school but he walked up to you during botany class and then two weeks later your teacher dies.

it can't be a coincidence. you go nearly crazy over it. you stay up multiple nights. you cry.

you remember when ms. woods called you smart, when she understood your grief over itadori and let you extend your onion cell project. you cry; something horrible happened to her, you just know it.

so, the night you stay in the school way too late studying poisonous plants in her room, you have a good excuse for why you see a huge monster in the hallway.

at first, you think you're seeing things from the sleep deprivation. you blink, rub your eyes and squint. it's still there.

“holy shit!” you jump out of your seat, going for the door to the garden before realizing they're locked, only able to be unlocked via a key- which you don't have.

the monster, a disgusting bipedal amalgamation of red roses, vegetables, cacti and other odd plants was slowly walking towards you.

“what the fuck.. oh my god- what the fuck?!” you shout, your hands shaking as you go to grab the nearest object to defend yourself as you press your body against the door. you grab a glass flask and hold it out as if it's at all a threat to the 8 foot creature in front of you.

the creature groans and you begin to tear up. this is it- you're about to die the same way ms. woods must have. nobody is going to mourn you besides your parents. you're going to die with people thinking you injested a poisonous fucking plant. you shut your eyes tight in preparation as it approaches.

it never does. you hear the creature use ms. woods' voice to cry out as someone attacks it. you peek to look.

its yuuji. and the girl from the mall. and the boy you thought killed ms. woods.

you gasp as they use all sorts of stuff against the thing and- are those bunnies?

“what.” is all you can gasp out as the brunette and the black haired boy run off, chasing the monster.

yuuji looks at you with his puppy dog eyes and you resist the urge to slap his stupid kissable face.

“yuuji, what the hell is going on.” you say, but it comes out as more of a statement than a question.

“i.. um..” he looks back at the two he came with who are now chasing the monster down the science hall, “that's the curse ms. woods left behind.. we're getting rid of it.”

“a curse? and- and you're fighting it?” you ask, puzzled.

“i promise i can explain but,” he pulls you into a tight, squeezing hug, “I was so worried. A special grade curse against you- I was terrified that we'd be too late. We didn't notice in time to get it before it tried to hurt you.”

“did it kill ms. woods?” you ask.

he shakes his head, “no- the grief from her death created that.” you gasp.

“I made that?” tears spill as the adrenaline settles.

“no!” yuuji pulls away a bit, looking at you put still holding onto you, “no. you didn't- it's not your fault. oh my god, it's not your fault- i love you please don't blame yourself!” he hurries to reassure you.

you sob into the crook of his neck, “yuuji- you.. why did you go? i was so lonely. it's been so hard.”

he can feel his heart break as he squeezes you once more in his embrace, “i'm sorry baby- i'm sorry.” yuuji soothes you, rubbing circles into your back, “i didn't want you to get hurt but- it happened anyways.”

after several minutes of silent comfort, you pull away, wiping your tears before giggling.

“where'd you get those face tattoos?” you sniffle and laugh.

yuuji laughs too.

“it's a long story.“

you smile, “tell me about it. i wanna hear.”

[ashen-char]

take my pure 🔞

ship: max fox (better things) x gender neutral reader (reader has a penis bc of the g!p request but i kept it gn bc the other request used "they")

warnings: explicit smut, losing virginity, reader has a penis

summary: max is more than happy to be your first - to ensure that your first time is perfect, to show you how good it can be.

word count: 3700+

notes: knocking out a few requests with this one. g!p request here, and requests for reader's first time w max here and here. g!p won the poll so i hope to write things like this more often for you guys! ALSO written as a happy bday gift to my 100th follower <3

Max has done her best to be patient with you. Respectful of the fact that, yknow, you're inexperienced. That you want to take things slow. You're not the type to rush into stuff headfirst like Max is. You know she's done more, that she wants you. It's kinda sweet how she asks you if you're OK even if you're doing something as simple as making out, just because she doesn't want to scare you off. 

"Hey, babe?" Max asks you one day, while you two are cuddling on her bed. Her hands stroke at your stomach, fingers slightly grazing down and playing with the waistband of your boxers. "I was thinking, like... what's the farthest you've ever gone with someone?"

Your eyes widen with the question since it seemed so out of the blue. Then again, Max always said what was on her mind, be that normal or not. "Uh, well, we've made out a bunch, obviously," you tell her.

"Right." The way she pauses lets you know that Max wants you to keep going, that you haven't answered what she wants to hear.

You keep your eyes on Max's, watching if she's at all uncomfortable or jealous with the answer. You want to be honest, but not make her upset. "Besides that, I guess me and my last girlfriend... touched a little. Like, under the bra. She tried to cop a feel of my junk once, but I shut that down." You frown at the memory. The rest of that hang-out was awkward, and you felt bad, but you weren't ready. You don't regret standing your ground though.

"Just under the bra, huh? That's it?" she teases. It's like Max knew you were getting in your head, because one of her hands comes up and cups your face. You lean into it. Turn your head and press a kiss to her palm.

Your arm goes to pull Max in, wanting her closer. She relaxes you. You've never really had that before. Past relationships were all filled with nerves and uncertainty. Max makes everything feel obvious, especially with how confident she is, even when she messes up.

"I kinda regretted moving away back then. Like, it felt good," you admit. "But no one else had ever touched it but me, so I was a little too nervous to go further." That moment didn't feel right. Now you know that it was because your ex was the wrong girl. She wasn't as awesome and right for you as Max.

Max giggles softly, pressing against you and letting you pull her against you. "Not lame at all, babe," she assures, her hand moving lower, tracing patterns on your abdomen. You resist the urge to flex, knowing she'll tease you for trying to impress her. You can't help how nervous she still makes you. How cool you want her to think you are. "It's... cute, actually. Makes me feel special, you know? That I'll get to be your first."

First. It used to be a daunting thought. Exes pushing you, saying it wasn't a big deal, telling you how excited they were to eventually take it. Like your body was something fun for them to experience. But not Max. She likes the thought because it proves how much you, the person not the body, trusts her. You think it might be fun, with Max. Because of Max. It makes you want to push through those nerves.

She looks up at you. You recognise that look in her eyes, how they sparkle with mischief. "...what's going on in that pretty head of yours?" you ask, wary but playful in tone. You poke her cheek and laugh when that makes Max laugh as well.

"You've never gone under my bra," she says.

The thought of Max's... well. You flush at the thought, the image of it, like your brain's stopping you from even thinking of her chest. Bare. Would her, uh, you know, be as pink and tender as her lips?

You really need to get over it. They're just words. You've seen Max's breasts before - seen them when she'd tease you by sending you nudes, or the couple of times she's changed in front of you because "she really doesn't care, just stay" in Max's words. You never really let yourself look, so sure that you'd stare and pop a boner or something. And pictures don't do them justice.

Max gives you little time to prepare. With two hands, she takes hold of yours, and, with a gentle tug, brings your hand under her shirt. "Go up when you feel ready," she says. Her eyes are fixed on yours, but she closes them when she leans in and sweetly gives you a kiss. It's then when you let your fingers splay open, reaching up, releasing a shaky breath when you feel it. Soft. Malleable. 

You squeeze, and she moans and, fuck, you feel the blood rushing down between your legs. This is when alarm bells would ring, telling you to move away before she feels your semi. But not with Max. Maybe it would be overkill to say you feel completely ready, but you don't feel scared at least. Spurred by your excitement and the feel of her soft tits in your hands, you begin to massage and explore, watching how Max reacts. Her shivers, her moans, her whimpers.

"Are you sure this is your first time?" she huffs out, as you're switching from one to the other. "You're too good at this."

"I- uh-" You don't know what you want to say. Nothing really. At this point, you're tenting your boxers something fierce and hoping Max doesn't tease you about it. "I'm not really doing anything. You feel good," is what you end up landing on, proud when you don't stutter too bad.

You feel her nipples pebble under your touch, how your palm grazes over it and it makes Max bite her lip and mumble out a "fuck".

When you don't freak out and let her know it's getting a bit too quick for you, her thumbs slip under the straps of her tank top. "You can take it off, if you want, babe," Max offers. You know there's no bra underneath, and you think you might die if her perfect tits were suddenly out, so you appreciate the warning.

"Honestly, I like where my hands are," you say. Admitting that peeling her tank top off would make you actually combust in your pants is too embarrassing anyways. "But I want to see you."

You watch as she strips her shirt and your heart thumps like it did the first time because she's just that gorgeous. Her pale skin is pretty. Her nipples are as pink as you imagined, but there's a tinge of red now, like they're begging to be touched. The beauty marks that pepper her upper body look like constellations, and you've spent a non-zero amount of time fantasising about kissing them. So you do. Max's breathing is getting heavy and you can feel it in how her chest rises and falls, can feel her heartbeat against your lips.

You don't know how long your face has been buried in her chest for. At least ten minutes if you had to guess. Max's perfume smells so sweet on her skin, and when you lick around her nipple like that, she squirms and grinds down on your lap. You almost can't believe you're feeling so comfortable right now. There's no instinct telling you to move away, to not let her feel your bulge. In fact, it feels so good.

"So, does that mean you're ready for third base now? Or maybe even a home run?" Her voice is teasing, but there's a hint of need behind it. Max wants you inside her and it's a thought that makes you groan.

"I think... yeah," you breathe out. "I wanna go further."

Max's eyes light up at your words. She can't believe you're giving her this, trusting her enough to let her see you, all of you. She's been dying to touch you, to explore every inch of the body that she loves being held by. She sits up, straddling you, her hands already reaching for the hem of your shirt.

"I thought you'd never ask," she teases, pulling your shirt off and tossing it aside. Her fingers trace the lines of your muscles, admiring the way your body responds to her touch. She can feel your heart pounding in your chest, can sense your nervousness. But she also sees the desire in your eyes, the want.

Her hands move to your belt, unbuckling it slowly, her eyes never leaving his. She can see you swallow hard, your chest heaving.

Max is grinning, enjoying the power she holds over you. "It'll be good. You'll love this, baby, trust me." In smooth, practised motions, she undoes the button on your jeans, then your zipper, her knuckles brushing against your hardness. She can feel you throbbing, eager for her touch.

"I do trust you," you say. With a groan, you hide your face against her, burrowing at the spot where her shoulder and neck meet.

"You're so big, babe," she whispers, her hand slipping inside your boxers, wrapping around your length. Max bites her lip, looking up at you with wide, eager eyes. She can feel your thickness in her hand, can barely wrap her fingers around it. "You're pulsing in my hand." Max sounds delighted.

"Shut up," you grit out, face probably burning red with all her teasing. It's all you can do to remember to breathe.

"Uh huh." She strokes you gently, feeling you grow even harder in her hand. Up and down the shaft, twisting at the head. You can't believe a girl is touching you. Not only that, but she's doing it in a way that you've only done to yourself in the privacy of your room, like Max knows just how you like it. "Do you like that, baby?" she asks, her voice soft and sweet. Encouraging. It makes you squirm.  "Do you like me touching you like this?"

Fuuuuck. "Ugh." Your hips jerk up, making a slick sound as you fuck up into her hand. "Yes."

After a while, when you're fully hard, Max starts making her way down. She kisses her way down your neck, your chest, lips exploring your body as her hands continue their tantalisingly slow up and down. She can feel you tense beneath her touch, but you don't stop her. "What are you-?"

"Shhh, baby. I just want to do something for you. It'll feel even better. Pinky promise."

She reaches your waistband, her fingers hooking into the top of your boxers. She looks up at you, checking in, making sure you're still okay with this. You nod. The sight of Max on her knees in front of you is fucking wow and the thought of saying no doesn't even cross your mind. Not like this. Not when your breath coming in short gasps and you just want her mouth around you.

"OK. Thank you for trusting me, baby," she whispers.

Your hands... you don't know what you're doing with them, don't know what to do at a time like this. It's not like you came over expecting to get blown today, so you didn't exactly look up the best etiquette for this. On her head seems like a safe option but also so lewd that you can't bring yourself too. "Of course," you say. "I love you. I-I trust you."

She smiles, leaning down and pressing a soft kiss to your stomach. "I love you too."

A deep breath in. You can do this. Max says you'll love it, and God, if you haven't imagined her mouth on you hundreds of times. She tugs your boxers down, freeing your erection. She says something to the effect of "oh, hello!" when it pops out, smacking you in the stomach cause you're just that fucking hard right now.

Max gasps when she finally sees it, her eyes widening in shock and awe. "Oh my god, baby," she breathes, her hand wrapping around the base, her thumb and middle finger not even able to meet. "If you told me you were packing all this, I might have done this sooner."

"Max..."

"I know, I know." Max laughs. She can see you blushing, can see the vulnerability in your eyes. Max smiles, running her finger along your length, feeling you shiver beneath her touch. "You're doing good," she tells you, then licks her lips. "Now can I taste it, baby?" she asks, her voice soft and pleading. "Please?"

When you nod your consent, Max leans down, her tongue flicking out to lick the tip of your cock. She hears you gasp, sees your hips jerk slightly. When she's taking you into her mouth, just the head at first, you wonder if you've ever felt anything so good. It's warm. Crazy intense. Your hands stay on the bed, clutching at the covers, fisting it so you don't do something stupid like scream or cum right there and then.

She sucks gently, her tongue swirling around you.

"Aa-ah," comes the broken moan out of your mouth. Don't cum, don't cum, shit.

You're growing harder in her mouth than you even thought possible, the head hitting the soft palate at the roof of her mouth. There's too many textures, too many sensations. You cling onto the knowledge that this is Max doing this to you. For you. Whichever. Your caring, sweet, always clingy Max. You cling to the fact that she's probably loving this right now, if in a completely different way than you are, loving that you're letting her have this part of you.

She pulls off the slightest bit, just enough to speak, looking up at you. "Is this okay, baby?" she asks, her voice soft. "Do you like it?"

You nod, your eyes clamped shut. If you look down and see your dick in her mouth, there's no saying what you'll do. "Y-yes," you stammers. "It's amazing."

"Well, I'm glad, baby," she says. You can hear the smile in her voice, can feel her hands rubbing up and down your thighs to calm you down. "Tell me if this gets too much, alright? I'm gonna do a little more."

Nodding, you give her the OK.

A little more turns out to be a lot at once. Max returns to that steady rhythm, her head bobbing up and down. With the way her tongue is swirling, you might not have recognised that she's goimg each time. Until finally, you hit something, and you feel her gag slightly.

"I'm sorry, I-"

"No, no, I'm fine," Max doesn't let you finish. "I want to."

She pulls back, taking a deep breath, before trying again. Biting your lip hard, you feel how Max relaxes her throat, taking you deeper this time, her hands gripping your thighs.

You're panting at this point. She must feel you growing closer, feel your body tensing. Her hand strokes the rest of your shaft, the bit she can't get in her mouth.

"No," you get out. You want to last, you want to make sure Max enjoys this as much as you are.

Now it's Max's time to apologise. She immediately pulls off, her eyes big and apologetic. "I'm sorry, God, I should have know that was too far, babe."

Instead of letting her think she was in the wrong, you lean down to kiss her. "No, you didn't do anything wrong," you murmur, even if it's hard to speak right now. Her shoulders are tense, worried, and you rub them. "I just didn't want to cum yet," you admit. You feel ready. You feel good. And it's all Max's doing. "I think I want... I want to be inside you."

Her eyes widen. Eventually Max nods, understanding, and scoots up to lie back on the bed. She reaches behind her to unbutton her shorts, sliding them and her panties off in one smooth motion. She wiggles out of them, leaving her naked and exposed. Her pussy is wet, her nerves making her ache for you. When she spreads her legs, inviting you in, you feel your mouth go dry.

"Come here, baby," she says, patting the spot next to her. "You're going to be so good, you know?"

Nervous isn't the right word. Excitement, maybe. You don't want to fuck this up, but at the same time you know Max wouldn't bedgrudge you if you do. Maybe she'd laugh, or playfully complain, but even if you bust a load right now she'd probably rub your back and tell you that you did good.

You gulp. "I don't know how to..."

"I know, baby. That's kinda part of it." Max leans in, pressing a soft placating kiss to your lips. "No one knows how to do something the first time. All I want is for you to be comfortable, OK? We don't have to do anything you don't want to."

Nothing you don't want to. That helps.

Max takes your hand again. This time, she brings it between her legs. Lets you feel around, not judging how your fingers clumsily explore her pussy.

Knowing that you're going to put it in and feel all this, wet and warm and tight, around your cock makes your brain fry. 

"Do you feel how wet I am?" she whispers. "I'm gonna love it. Just let me guide you in. You can't mess this up."

You keep your eyes fixed on Max, letting her keep you as calm as you can be in this situation. Her hand, still unable to wrap around your girl, directs you to her entrance, replacing your fingers with your cock. Your heart is pounding in your chest as she lines herself up with your head. For the first time, you feel a woman's soft folds around the tip of your cock. An inviting heat practically begs you to take her, to shove yourself right in, and you can't help but shiver at the sensation.

"Max."

"Shh. Slow," she whispers. "Just push in slow, feel how I fit around you. Take your time."

You do as she says, pushing in slowly, her warmth enveloping you. Your body screams at you to move faster. Inch by agonising inch. Your hands let go of the sheets, reaching to grasp her, holding Max by the hips now. At the time, it seemed like the right thing to do to stop Max from sucking you until you came. But now, with half of your shaft buried inside her and Max's hand still wrapped around your base, you realise how close you still are. How bad of a decision it was to not wait until you calmed down a little, because fuck, you think you're going to blow.

Max's nails dig into your shoulder, and she takes a deep breath. Her shaky "oh God" makes you moan, clutching at her hips tighter to hold on to your sanity. Luckily, it seems like you both need some time, so no one complains when you stop about halfway inside her. Max slowly adjusts to your size, and you're adjusting to the fact that you're inside of someone for the first time and it feels like heaven.

"Do you like this, baby?" she asks, her voice breathless. "Do you like being inside me?"

"God yes," you groan out. You can barely even recognise your own voice, thick with pleasure. The tight heat, the softness, it envelops you and you can't help but bite your lip as you tell yourself over and over to not cum yet. Even without moving, her muscles are clenching around you, and it's so intense that it's overwhelming.

"OK, baby," she pants, after a while. You're calmer now. At least, you hope so. "Now you can move." 

So you do. You sink in slowly but surely, taking it all in. Once you're fully inside her, you freeze for a moment, unsure of what to do. Max, however, is not. She wraps her legs around your waist, her heels digging into your back, and begins to move her hips, grinding against you.

Max guides you, showing you how to thrust, how to set the pace, how she likes it. She likes it when you swivel your hips, but hates it when you change up the speed too much. When her hips gyrate, she wants it deeper. You're a fast learner. Every thrust makes her moan, and you're just following Max's lead. Trying not to lose yourself in it. Her soft moans are the sweetest reward.

Max wraps her legs around your waist, pulling you closer, encouraging you. 

"You're doing great," she says, her eyes locked on yours. "Just like that. Keep going."

You let out a shaky breath, your eyes locked with Max's. This is it. You're making love to the love of your life, and you can't believe how good it feels. Max's slick walls slide against you, gripping your cock with every roll of her hips. You begin to mimic her movements, use what you've learned.

Max lets out soft, needy whines, her body arching to meet your inexperienced but eager thrusts. She's taking in every inch of you, her pussy stretching and contracting around you. Her eyes roll back in her head.

"B-baby, please," she calls out, "cum for me, cum inside me. I want to feel it."

"Close. Wait for me," you groan, your body trembling.

And then, in a wave of pleasure, your body jerks. It feels like a bolt of lightning, a shock to the system. Your cock pulses deep inside of Max as you spill your seed deep within her. Max lets out a loud moan as you fill her, her body shuddering as her own orgasm washes over her. Her pussy clamps down tightly around you, milking you dry as she rides out her climax.

Together, you two lay there, panting. "Oh my God. That was amazing," you say, before laughter takes over you. Nothing's funny, but there's too much joy, too much happiness to not let out. She joins in, until you're two giggling messes cuddled up in the sheets, basking in the afterglow. She whispers sweet nothings into your hair, telling you how proud she is of you, how lucky she is that you let her experience your first with you.

[zerokurokawa]

hiii💗 i read some of your works and i can say that you’re really amazing at writing and i have one request to you to make fic or head canon (you decide) where bonten haitani brothers (which one you decide) accidentally have a daughter from their ex-girlfriend (who they had been together for long time) they don’t knew about anything because they were broke up for 17-18 years and she’s been living with her daughter in another country and after they come back they accidentally met each other and how would their reaction would be? how would they treat her?…

ill be honest i’ve read so many fics that was written topics like that but none of them we actually enough interesting… so ty for attention and good luck💗

Daughter From Another Lifetime | Bonten!Rindou x Reader <3

Once he found out that he had a daughter from your previous relationship, he would try to reconnect with you. He was shocked at first, seeing your daughter walk through the doors of his office, asking for him directly by name. 

"Hi, uhm... I'm d/n Haitani... I'm looking for my father, Rindou Haitani..." Your daughter would trail off, stumbling over her words as she tried to speak properly. She was intimidated by the office and the security guards. When he heard his name and saw a sweet girl come through the doors that looked just like him, he instantly knew that she was his. 

While taking her out to eat for lunch, Rindou began to ask questions about you. 

"How is your mother? I haven't heard from her since she... left me." He would ask, seemingly sad. 

"She's doing okay, she told me all about you and I've always wanted to meet you, so I came and found you!" She exclaimed, taking a bite of her food that she greatly appreciated. She was excited to of finally met her real dad after all these years. 

"Will you tell her I need to speak with her, d/n?" He asked nervously, not even touching the food that he ordered. He didn't have an appetite, for he had just found out that he had a child with the love of his life from many years ago. 

"I'd love to, dad!" Hearing her call him dad was what made his heart instantly melt. He decided right then and there that he was taking the rest of the day off to get to know his daughter. Rindou would take her shopping and buy her new clothes, shoes, and even took her to the arcade that he used to go to when he was younger. He enjoyed watching her play the same games he used to play. 

Thoughts ran through his head as he watched his child smile and have fun; like what would happen if he tried to reconcile with you? What could he do to win you back? He wanted this, he wanted a family. Seeing his perfect little girl made him want and miss you even more than he already did. 

Eventually, it was time for her to head back to you. Rindou made it a point to take your daughter home, hoping you would talk to him at least. Once they arrived at your apartment, Rindou got out of the car and walked d/n to the front door. He knocked nervously, straightening his suit and fixing his hair, trying to look as pleasing to the eye as possible. 

You answered the door and your eyes went wide. 

"D/n, where have you been all day?" You asked, gesturing for her to come inside while staring at Rindou, who was standing quietly in front of you with a slight smile on his face. He was trying to not seem upset or shocked. All these years, he knew you resented him for being involved with gangs, violence, drugs, and dirty money.  That's the reason you two broke up in the first place years ago - because he wouldn't let that lifestyle go. You ended up having to let him go instead. 

"Y/n, can we talk?" He finally spoke up. 

"Come in." You said with a stern voice. 

You sent d/n to her room while you and Rindou sat at the counter in your apartment. 

"It's been 17 years since we broke up, yet you never told me I had a daughter." He started the conversation, cutting to the chase. 

"We were kids, I didn't think you were ready to be a father. Plus, I was scared because of all of the things you were involved with." You went on, taking a sip of a glass of well needed wine. 

"You were pregnant, and you didn't even bother to tell me..." He trailed off, "Did you really not trust me to be around OUR child?" 

"I just told you exactly what went wrong. You never listened to me, not even once." You put the glass down and stared at him. 

"Y/n, I'm sorry. I'm sorry for not listening and I'm sorry for everything that I've done that caused you to leave. But keeping my daughter a secret from me breaks my heart. I've only been around her one day and I already love her. Please..." He stammered with his words, trying not to tear up at the thought of you not wanting him around. 

"Please what, Rindou?" 

"Please, let me be there for her. I can support you both. You'll never have to work and she'll never have to go without. I have money, tons of money-" You interrupted him quickly. 

"Dirty money that you got from doing bad things, Rin." You said, assertively. 

"Please, I'm begging you. I can keep you both away from all of this. I can keep you both safe and sound. You'll never hear or see any of the things I do. I just want my family." He was begging at this point. 

"I'll consider it on one condition." You said after a moment of silence. 

"Anything." He sat up straight, ready to take on whatever conditions you threw at him. 

"You have to promise to be the best father you can possibly be to her. Meaning, you choose her over anything - your job, your money, everything." 

"I promise." He said, without a single doubt or hesitation in his voice. He wanted this and wanted you more than anything in the entire world. 

(A/N: I may make a part two to this if you like it! I enjoyed writing this.)

Update: Part Two

[demonpiratehuntress]

How the Straw Hats React to Your Period

Includes: OPLA!Zoro, OPLA!Sanji, OPLA!Luffy, OPLA!Usopp, f!reader

A/N: I actually have a one-shot written of Zoro's reaction to your period, which I'll post after this. But I hope you enjoy reading this :)

ZORO

"NO! NO! (NAME) I'M SORRY!"

Luffy's loud scream was what woke the swordsman from his nap today, one of his eyes shooting open to see what the fuss was about. Luffy zipped across the deck in front of him, holding onto his hat for dear life as you chased him around with a kitchen knife, curses and threats spewing past your lips.

"Luffy! Get back here!"

Zoro looked at Nami and Sanji, who were watching the scene while trying to stifle giggles. Usopp was behind Sanji, visibly shaking. The swordsman turned his gaze back to you and Luffy, where you were handling the captain by the collar of his vest. Before you could do anything to him, however, Zoro grabbed your wrist and stopped you.

"What now-" You turned, your eyes widening when you saw your boyfriend. "Zoro-"

"Why are you trying to kill our captain?" He asked, then paused. "Okay let me rephrase. Why do you have a knife?"

You suddenly burst into tears, and for the first time since Kaya's mansion, Zoro jumped in fright and alarm. It didn't take long for your face to be a mess of tears, and you were babbling something he couldn't hear through your sobs.

"Calm down," he let go of your wrist and gently took the knife away from you, handing it to Luffy before feeling you suddenly smack his arm. "What was that for?"

"Don't tell me to calm down!" You yelled, still crying but now very irritated. "He ate my food!"

"So?"

"So Sanji made it especially for me!" You whined. "He knows what I like on my period!"

At the mention of Sanji, Zoro growled and lifted you up, tossing you over his shoulders, "I also know what you like."

Minutes later, you were laying on his chest in his hammock, after he had brought you some more food and something to drink. He was lazily rubbing over your uterus, which he had learned - after three of your periods - calmed you down. You were content for now, eating an insane amount of food and cuddling your boyfriend, but he couldn't deny that he was a little afraid of you during these times. Still, he did his best to make sure you were okay, knowing how badly you cramped and how much pain your body was in during these days. Whatever you asked of him, he did without complaint.

SANJI

No one had seen you for hours now. That usually wouldn't be a problem, if it wasn't the middle of the day and if you didn't usually spend this time learning how to fish from Sanji. Everyone except Nami seemed to be confused, but she wouldn't tell anyone what was going on, too busy reading her charts. So your boyfriend decided to check for himself, regretting not coming sooner when he saw what state you were in.

"My love, what's wrong?"

The cook was by your side in an instant, his ears now picking up on the soft groans and whimpers you were letting out. You were clearly in pain, but you didn't want to lift your head up to tell him why. He had to gently remove the blanket from your face, and cup your cheek in his hand.

"What can I do to make it better?"

"Food," you mumbled, before groaning again and burying your face in his thigh. "And you."

That didn't really make any sense, but it didn't matter to Sanji. He didn't want to leave you alone while you were in pain, so he quickly brought a cloth he had doused in hot water and laid it over your uterus, knowing heat would help the pain. Then he kissed your forehead and promised the food would come soon, before rushing off to make your favourite.

"Where's (Name)?" Luffy asked Sanji, coming into the kitchen. "Haven't seen her all day."

"She's resting," the cook answered, before slapping the captain's hand away from the food. "That's for her."

Luffy was about to protest, but then he turned and went down to your room to check on you. Sanji would have warned him, but he was already gone before he could.

What came next was a loud bang and a the unmistakable sound of someone hitting the wooden walls of the ship. Followed by a dazed groan. Sanji tried not to laugh as Luffy came stumbling back into the kitchen, his eyes wide.

"What did you do?"

"I poked her cheeks until she told me what was wrong."

"Did she tell you?"

"No, but she punched me."

Sanji did laugh then, watching Luffy go back out to bother someone else - probably Zoro - as he gathered up the plate and hot drink he had prepared for you and went back to your room. He set the food and drink down, slipped into the bed next to you, and brought you close as he fed you the food and kept the heated cloth in place over your uterus. He was aware of how painful these few days were for you, so he tried his best to make it at least a little easier. And he always did.

LUFFY

THE MOST OBLIVIOUS MAN TO EVER LIVE. This guy has no idea what's in store for him, and he has no idea how to deal with it either. He can't help his annoying nature, but when you get your period he tries his best to shut up sometimes. Sometimes. He can't keep up with your mood swings, and even less with your cramps, but he tries. The poor guy. You always feel so bad after your periods, knowing you yelled at him for no reason or snapped unwillingly when he's never ever raised his voice at you or argued.

"(Name)!" Luffy whined. "That was mine!"

You had just swiped something off his lunch plate - something he did way more often to you - when those words tumbled out of his mouth before he could stop them. He had - once again - forgotten what time of the month it was. He was reminded when your eyes glossed over with tears, and your bottom lip trembled. Everyone else flinched as you started crying, getting up to run off to somewhere else.

"Luffy!" Nami smacked the back of his head.

"Idiot," Zoro grumbled, face-palming.

Luffy looked confused, wondering why everyone was telling him off. Only when Usopp nudged him in the direction you ran off did he get it. He was slow, but he always understood - eventually. He got up to follow you, finding you curled up in the crow's nest, shaking and crying into your knees.

"Hey, (Name)," he sat down next to you. "I'm sorry."

"You're an idiot, you know," you grumbled, looking up at him with tear-filled eyes.

He laughed, and you frowned, before he suddenly pulled you onto his lap and wrapped his arms around you. He extended them so they encased you like a cocoon, having heard from Nami that keeping you warm might help with the pain. But also, he knew how much you loved it when he cuddled you like this. All your pain and anger faded away, and the tears stopped as your body completely relaxed in his embrace. You felt yourself nodding off, and pretty soon you were fast asleep, head tilted onto your boyfriend's shoulder. He smiled. He was lucky that you were so patient with him. Because it took him a while, but he would always make sure you were okay during these few unbearable days.

USOPP

This poor, poor boy. Having been around Kaya for most of his life, he wasn't new to what periods were. However, you were not like Kaya. You were aggressive, you were angry, you were violent, and it terrified him to his core. He knew you didn't mean to be, but your fluctuating hormones made you so moody and grumpy that he was almost tempted to hide from you for those few days. But he knew you needed him. So he did what he does best, he told you funny, made-up stories to make you laugh.

They...had the opposite effect.

He was alarmed when you started crying halfway through his infamous goldfish story, instantly reaching out to take your hand, "(Name), what's wrong? Does it hurt? I can go get something-"

"Why did you punch the goldfish?" You sniffled, looking up him with teary eyes.

He was taken aback by your question, his jaw dropping. No one ever asked that, and he was wondering why you were worried about the goldfish when he claimed it was attacking him.

"Why-"

"It was an innocent animal!" You whined, smacking his arm suddenly and then crying even more. "It didn't do anything!"

Usopp stuttered and stammered and tried to defend himself, but you were so concerned about the fish you didn't want to hear it. Shaking his head with a sigh, he just slipped into the bed next to you and brought you against his chest, kissing the top of your head. You were very very emotional, but he was learning how to appropriately handle it. And you appreciated that he was trying his best to make you smile. He made your periods bearable.

[astrophileous]

ANYTHING with jealous Reid <33333

HI ANON ty for the request! I hope you'll like this one 🥰❤️

Warning(s): gn!reader, profanities, jealous spencer, that's it rlly this is mainly just fluff 💞

This blurb has a part two.

This blurb was written as a part of the "Zara's Birthday Bash and Road to 1K" celebration.

Zara's Birthday Bash and Road to 1K Masterlist / Criminal Minds Masterlist

Supernovae had always been known for their extremely high temperature. Nearing the end of its life, a mature star would go through an explosion so stupendous, it would eject almost the entirety of its mass. During this stage of a star's life cycle, the core temperature of a star could potentially rise to be in the billions of degrees Fahrenheit, making it appropriate for a supernova to be credited as the hottest object ever known in the vast universe.

But as Spencer sat on the chair behind his desk, his fingers tapping impatiently on the surface, he was certain that not even the temperature of a supernova could rival the heat rising steadily inside his chest.

The flame raged unlike anything he had ever known. It flourished with every second Spencer spent staring at you from across the room. You were laughing at something your present company had said, and Spencer instinctively gripped the arm rest of his chair as the fire in his ribcage roared even wilder.

Spencer was on the edge of his seat, ready to prowl at any second, when a presence unexpectedly slid right next to him.

"What are you doing?" Emily Prentiss asked, perching herself on the edge of Spencer's desk without a care in the world.

"Nothing," the young man answered distractedly. "Can I help you?"

"I was wondering if you still had those ginger candies you shared with me last week?" Emily wondered as she began to rummage through his drawers. "Where do you keep it?"

Silently, Spencer opened his bottom drawer, pulling out a tin box where he stored the sweets Emily was looking for.

"You're an angel on earth, Dr. Reid." Emily grinned, popping a candy into her mouth. "Are you okay, by the way?"

"Yeah, why wouldn't I be?"

"Because you've been throwing daggers at (Y/N) and Anderson for the past three minutes."

"I have not."

"Yes, you have."

"You're mistaken. Maybe you were just seeing things."

"Reid, you're literally glaring at them right now as we speak." At Emily's observation, Spencer begrudgingly tore his gaze away from the two people across the room. "Wanna tell me what's going on?"

"Nothing's going on. I told you," Spencer insisted, his eyes once again returning towards the pair on the other side of the bullpen. "Hey, do you know how (Y/N) and Anderson became close like that?"

"Haven't they always been friendly?"

"Friendly? Yes. But not like... that." Spencer pressed his lips, trying to contain the scowl when he saw you grip Anderson's forearm as you beamed at the other agent. "Since when does (Y/N) laugh like that with him?"

Emily flicked her eyes repeatedly between yours and Spencer's face. A smirk emerged on her lips when understanding finally dawned on her. "Oh my God, you're jealous."

Spencer didn't think he ever whipped his head so fast in his entire life.

"You're jealous of Anderson. Holy shit, that makes so much sense! You're actually jealous."

"What are you talking about? I'm not—I'm not jealous!"

"Of course you are. Why else would you get so hostile at the mere sight of those two talking?"

"I was just... asking a question. I wanted to know why they suddenly seemed so close, that's all."

"Of course you did."

"I'm telling the truth!"

"Right. Of course you are." Emily snickered. She got up from his desk and started walking away, all the while belting out a ridiculously jesty song she obviously just made up, "Spencer is jealous. J-E-A-L-O-U-S! Spencer is jealous. J-E-A-L-O-U-S!"

The young Doctor frowned at Emily's teasing. He glanced towards where you had been standing only to see you sauntering towards his direction. Spencer automatically busied himself with the random papers on his desk, acting as if he had only noticed your presence as you sat down on your desk right across from his.

"Working hard, Doctor?" you quipped jubilantly, rearranging the case files on your desk as you hummed an unfamiliar tune under your breath.

"Something like that," Spencer replied, closing the documents he wasn't even reading as his full attention landed on you. "What did Anderson want?"

"Hm? Oh, nothing. He was just asking if I was free this weekend, that's all."

Spencer unwittingly clenched his jaw at your reply. "What's this weekend?"

"A cricket game. Apparently, Grant has always been a big fan, so he was very excited when I told him I used to play back in college. Too bad I can't come to the game, though. I promised my mom I would visit her this weekend."

Spencer could merely nod at your explanation, pretending like his brain hadn't short-circuited when you referred to Agent Anderson with his first name. The fog in his head only started to dissipate when Derek called for the two of you from the bullpen doors, asking if any of you would like to join him for lunch.

"You coming, Doctor Reid?" you asked as you stood up from the chair, pocketing your phone and wallet in the process.

"Yeah, yeah, of course. I'll be right there. You guys just go ahead."

You flashed him one last bright smile before skipping all the way towards where Derek was waiting. A sense of calm washed over him when he saw you glancing back, offering a small wave in his direction. Spencer could feel the smile blooming on his face before it was soon chased away by the sight of Anderson standing by the door, holding it open as you laughed gratefully at him.

Fuck it.

It looked like Emily was right after all.