#you reflect in whatever mirror fits your frame. not just the ones in your bedroom. not just the ones i specifically give you.

[ggwritesstuff]

One Last Time

pairing: bam margera x reader

warnings: mentions of being cheated on?? idk this one is big soft

a/n: long time no see, my loves <3 sorry if this sucks it’s been ages since i’ve written lol anyways pls enjoy this product of my latest obsession

“I’m sorry.”

The words echoed from the other end of the line; they sounded disgustingly condescending coming from a cheater.

“Oh, fuck you.” You spat before hanging up on your now ex-boyfriend. In a fit of rage, a solemn, agonizing cry tore through your chest as you launched the phone across the room. It hit the wall with a force you didn’t know you had within you. You were grateful nobody was home to hear the commotion you’d kicked up.

A few yards away sat your neighbor, Bam’s room. The two of you weren’t as close of friends as you once were, but he always kept a watchful eye on you around school and the neighborhood; even if he didn’t say anything. His music would often keep you up at night with how loud it blared. Yet tonight, it was nearly silent.

It was only ever silent at the Margera house when he was either not home or hyper focused on whatever footage he was editing at the time.

You sat in the silence for a moment. Your chest heaved as you caught your breath until a muffled sound startled you. As you looked over to check the time, you caught a glimpse of Bam standing in his window across the way. He motioned for you to open yours.

“The hell was that?” He questioned as you lifted the window up.

With a sigh, your head fell into your hands as you propped yourself up in the windowsill, “I got pissed and threw my phone.” You explained. You hadn’t lifted your head from your hands, but you could feel Bam’s eyes lingering on you in such a vulnerable position.

“You alright?” He asked, his voice softened. You nodded your head to say ‘yes’. Bam scoffed his disbelief. You couldn’t bullshit the king of bullshit, it was foolish to think you could. “Wanna come over for a bit? Ape and Phil are out for the night.” You nodded your response again. “Door’s open, c’mon.”

You watched as he shut the window and disappeared from your view. You had finally pulled yourself off the floor and stopped to look over your reflection. When you looked in the mirror, you saw black stains from that so-called waterproof mascara strewn down your cheeks and quickly used your sleeve to wipe them away before heading downstairs and next door.

When you made your way over, Bam stood in the doorway, leaning against the frame with his hands in his pockets to shield them from the brisk January air. “Hurry up, it’s cold as shit.” He muttered before you followed him into the house. You kicked off your shoes at the door and followed him to his bedroom.

It had been years since you’d been in his room. The view from your window only offered a glimpse of what it was now. Posters littered the walls. Though much has changed since you’d last been there, you still felt a sense of comfort and security as you sat on his bed. His sheets didn’t have that fresh linen smell. Rather, they smelled vaguely of tobacco and bonfire smoke; it was reminiscent of the time you’d spent together in your early teenage years. The bed shifted as Bam sat down next to you and leaned back against the wall, effectively interrupting your nostalgic thoughts brought on by the scent of his bed.

“You wanna tell me what all that was over there?” Bam looked over, kicking your foot playfully with his.

“Fuckin’ Shane, dude.” You sighed. “Every fuckin’ time I start feeling like I can trust a guy, they go and fuck me over or fuck another girl. I’m just so sick of it.”

There was a brief silence. “What do you mean every time?” He asked.

“I don’t know, man. It feels like whenever I start feeling secure in a relationship, the universe gives me this giant reason as to why I shouldn’t.” You said, tears threatened to spill. “Every fucking time.” You repeated under your breath, letting your head roll back.

“Fuck, man. I’m sorry.” Bam sighed sympathetically as he stood up and walked over to the stereo system on his dresser. Stacks and stacks of plastic CD cases sat scattered around it. He picked up an album and placed it in the tray. The music started and Bam turned the volume dial down, just enough to hear it in the background before making his way back to his bed.

“I just don’t get it. What’s the point of dating if I’m just gonna end up heartbroken again. I just wanna give up.” You huffed. The tears that threatened to spill earlier had finally crossed the threshold as you stared blankly into the distance.

“Ah, shit. Come here.” Bam extended his arm out to pull you closer to him when he noticed your tears. It felt like it’d been ages since you hugged him, yet he still felt safe to you. He held you tightly in scarred and bruised arms as your breathing began to even out. With your face comfortably nuzzled into his chest, you could smell the cheap cologne that lingered on his shirt. It was the same one he always wore in middle school.

While you were reminiscing about simpler times, Bam was doing some reminiscing of his own. The feeling of having you this close to him kicked up all the emotions that ultimately caused your drift away from each other in your freshman year of high school. His heart was beating rapidly as he held you, crossing his fingers that you didn’t notice the sudden increase.

The two of you now laid entangled in his disheveled bed as Razorblade Romance by HIM played in the background. Bam would occasionally hum the melody, you felt the vibrations rumble in his chest. The song “One Last Time” came on and the lyrics had struck a chord with Bam. The sight of you laid upon his chest with tear stained cheeks evoked a strange feeling of anger and a hint of protectiveness. The anger was a product of years of silent pining. He was infuriated with every single one of your failed romantic partners for treating you poorly enough to push you to the point of giving up on love.

Despite his too-tough attitude, Bam was always a softhearted romantic. He had so much love to give. So much love he wanted to give to you, but you sought love in the wrong places; the wrong people. As you had draped an arm across his abdomen and nuzzled closer into his chest for comfort, he hoped that you would finally see that the love you had been seeking was only a few meters across the way this whole time.

You lifted your head off of his chest for a moment and looked up at him. “Thanks, Bammy. I missed you.” You confessed honestly, the nickname coming out so naturally as if you’ve said it daily. He glanced down at you, lips beginning to curve into the familiar smile. Bam’s heart leapt in his chest at the sound of his nickname. You were so close, just mere inches away from each other’s faces.

“At least you could try for this one last time, it could be alright.”

The lyrics to One Last Time lingered in the air as Bam’s impulsive nature got the best of him. He began to lean in to close the gap between you, hoping this move would be well received. You didn’t stop him, despite having just experienced yet another heartbreak. Instead, you accepted his advance, leaning to meet him halfway until your lips had finally connected.

Years of tension and yearning had finally come to a head, Bam couldn’t have been more elated than he was when he felt the plushness of your lips on his own rough and chapped ones. The moment he had spent years dreaming of, it was better than he ever could’ve imagined.

You, on the other hand, found yourself perplexed, yet unable to stop him or pull away. You had wondered if it was too soon to jump into anything after quite literally having just gotten cheated on; if you were making the right decision by reaching this new level with your childhood best friend. Nevertheless, you ultimately found yourself melting into the softness of the kiss. It was as if you had seen the light in a moment of clarity; years of buried emotions all rose to the surface.

He pulled away for a moment and rested his forehead against yours. Calloused hands held your face as if you were the most delicate, prized artifact to ever exist. Moments like these didn’t need words to be spoken. The alluring shade of blue of his eyes said everything you needed to know. A stray tear cascaded down your cheek, he was quick to catch it with his thumb and gently wipe it away.

Bam pressed his lips against your forehead before allowing you space to nuzzle back into his chest, wrapping a protective arm around you as you settled in. The gentle beating of his heart eventually lulled you to sleep; you hadn’t been this comfortable in years.

Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to see where this could go with him.

Maybe it’s worth trying one last time.

[treba-neco-napise]

#spilled ink#woke up at 530 to write this lmafo#me in a cold sweat:#how do i be normal#edit in the tags:#hey so i've seen y'all talk about like ... wondering if ur ''allowed'' to relate#like if this is about X specific diagnosis#and when i first posted it i really almost labelled it ''please don't assume this is about a specific condition''#because as an artist i am often walking this line of discussing a symptom or discussing my conditions etc#and sometimes yes ! i do want to talk about an experience that is specific to who i am and my condition#but sometimes the effort of the post is about the EXPERIENCE rather than the diagnosis#because yes i am not neurotypical and as a result that influences my work but it is ALSO true that there are many reasons#why someone might experience this particular vague horrible feeling that you are... almost being CHASED by what you ''really'' are.#that you're outrunning your symptoms... that you're not really normal you're just sort of a mockery of a person#.... that's a really isolating and horrible way to feel no matter why you are feeling it. and the nature of this PARTICULAR post is that#it is inherently talking ABOUT that sense of isolation & of feeling not-deserving & of minimizing your own experiences to make urself#palatable for society in a way that others find easy-to-deal-with....#this post is about a certain experience such that my impression is there's a higher likelihood that those who relate#would have more difficulty thinking they ''deserve'' to relate - that it doesn't REALLY belong to them#bc often we are the kind of people who are SO used to being alienated and set aside and ''different'' that we AUTOMATICALLY assume#that things are not ''for'' us... they never have been why would it start now#we are the kinds of people to be ... ''too normal for X diagnosis but too symptomatic to be normal''#[or as this post points out... so good at ''coping''/masking/hiding it that we essentially conform to whatever shape we're poured into]#but i have witnessed others already say in the tags ''thought this was about me but it's about X so it can't be''#and im like ... of course it was about you.#art is not a resource that is diminished by greater appreciation .#you reflect in whatever mirror fits your frame. not just the ones in your bedroom. not just the ones i specifically give you.#there will be - and often are - times that i will talk about my specific conditions... but if you're reading this#regardless of why you're here... we are here together. holding hands through space and time. and i love you for carrying it#and i know you're exhausted. i am too. but i understand. and i see you.

op, thank you. i really needed this.

you wanted to be a good friend, because you loved your friends, but the truth was that everyone else somehow had a pamphlet on being normal that you never received. most of the time you learn by trial-and-error. you are terrified of the next big mistake you make, because it seems like the rules are completely arbitrary.

you've learned to keep the prickly parts of your personality in a stormcloud under your bed - as if they're a second version of you; one that will make your friends hate you. it feels feral, burning, ugly.

instead, you have assembled habits based on the statistical likelihood of pleasing others. you're a good listener, which is to say - if you do speak up, you might end up saying the wrong thing and scaring off someone, but people tend to like someone-who-listens. or you've got no true desires or goals, because people like it when you're passive, mutable. you're "not easy to fluster" which is to say - your emotions are fundamentally uninteresting to others around you; so you've learned to control them to a degree that you can no longer really feel them happening.

you have long suspected something is wrong with you, but most of the time, googling doesn't help. you are so-used to helping-yourself, alone and with no handbook. the reek of your real self feels more like a horrible joke - you wake up, and, despite all your preparations, suddenly the whole house is full of smoke. the real you is someone waiting to ruin your other-life, the one where you're normal and happy. the real-self is unpredictable, angry.

your real self snarls when people infantilize the whole situation. because if you were really suffering, everyone seems to think you'd be completely unable to cope. but you already learned the rules, so you do know how to cope, and you have fucking been coping. it's not black-and-white. it's not that you are healed during the other times - it's just that you're able to fucking try. and honestly, whenever you show symptoms, it's a really fucking bad sign.

because the symptoms you have are ugly and unmanageable for others. your symptoms aren't waifish white girl things. they're annoying and complicated. they will be the subject of so many pretentious instagram reels. if they cared about you, they'd just show up on time. you care, a lot, so deeply it burns you. you like to picture a world where the comments read if they loved you, they'd never need glasses to see. but since that's a rule you've seen repeated - "one must never be late or you are a bad friend" - you constantly worry about being late and leave agonizingly early. there are no words for how you feel when you're still late; no matter how hard you were trying.

so you have to make up for it. you have to make up for that little horrible real you that you keep locked in a cabinet. you are bad at answering emails so every project you make has to be perfect. you are weird and sensitive so you have to learn to be funny and interesting. you are an inconvenience to others, so you become as smooth as possible, buffing out all the rough parts.

all this. all this. so people can pass their hands over you and just tell you just the once -how good you are. you're a good friend. you're loveable.

[fabulivonline]

THE MAGIC OF BATHROOM MIRRORS AND WOODEN CABINETS

If you want to make a decent amount of money with your bedroom mirrors and wooden cabinets, or any other type of merchandise that people will buy from, then I would start by trying to find products that are selling well at retail stores like Walmart or Target. If nobody is buying them then those items will not be worth making yourself so if they do sell well keep track of the type of product that sells best so far because this will give you an indication of what people will be willing to buy next time around. 

Types of Bathroom Mirrors

Mirrors are one of the best ways to add style and elegance to your bathroom. They can be used for makeup, shaving, and other grooming needs as well as adding light to a dark room. Mirrors can also be used to add privacy, by blocking out other people walking into the bathroom while you’re in there.

How to Pick the Right Bathroom Mirror

The right mirror for your bathroom mirrors is the right size and color. It should also be in good condition, as mirrors are vulnerable to damage.

That said, if you're looking for a vintage-style mirror or want something that reflects light at you from all angles, your options are much broader than just rectangular frames with glass (and no frame). You can find antique-looking wooden cabinets with mirrors mounted inside them—think "colonial" bedroom furniture—or even just use a beautiful decorative mirror on its own!

Why Wooden Cabinets Are the Perfect Complement to Mirrors

Bathroom Wooden cabinets are a great complement to mirrors. They can be used as storage for toiletries, or to display decorative items such as vases and platters. The possibilities are endless!

Use wooden cabinets for storage: If your bathroom has limited space, then you may want to consider using wooden cabinets instead of traditional mirrors. You could even place one over each sink so that everything looks coordinated and neat when you’re done showering/bathing/shaving/whatever your thing is today (I did it because I was bored). This will save space while also allowing you access to all of the things within reach without having any trouble getting around the room or getting stuck behind things due to them being too big/small etc...

Tips for Choosing the Best Wooden Cabinet

Choose a cabinet that fits your bathroom. The size and shape of a bathroom will determine what kind of wooden cabinet you should buy, so be sure to consider these factors before making any purchases.

Choose a clean and well-organized cabinet. The last thing you want is for dirty dishes or clothes to get mixed up with other items inside your cabinet, so make sure it's easy for people like yourself (or anyone else) who use this space often—or at least once in a while—to keep everything organized properly!

Get an easy-to-clean wooden bathtub or shower stall door mirror instead if possible because they're less expensive than other types; however, if budget isn't an issue then go ahead! Remember: since these mirrors tend not to break easily (if ever), be careful when handling them as they could become damaged easily if dropped onto the concrete ground.  Commenting and pinging are currently closed.

 You don't have to wait for the hottest deals and sales to save on your favorite cleaning supplies. These products are made from all-natural ingredients that contain no harsh chemicals, making them safe for you and your family. With a natural soap like this one, you will no longer need to worry about being exposed to harmful chemicals with each use!

[corruptedcaps]

Taking Over

“I don’t understand Jordan, why do you want me to do this? She’s was your friend, can’t you do?” Jade said somehow finding some bravery in the face of the meanest girl in school. Then again Jade wasn’t the only one feeling braver now that Courtney, Jordan’s best friend and former biggest bitch in school, had died recently. Courtney had seemed to have had a grip over the school that was released when she died and needs like Jade get more confident roaming the halls.

Of course Jordan was only too happy to step into the power vacuum Courtney left but had found more pushback than she had expected. It made her furious that a girl like Jade was even questioning her.

“Listen dork I don’t have to explain to you why I can or can’t go to Courtney’s house, all you need to know now is that if you don’t do this I’ll make sure what happened to Courtney happens to you too, understand?” Jordan said with intense menace in her eyes. Jade didn’t know whether to believe Jordan had anything to do with Courtney’s mysterious death but she also knew she didn’t want to find out.

Waiting until night fall, Jade made her way to Courtney's house. She had always been curious about where Courtney lived, and now seemed like the perfect opportunity to see it for herself. However as she turned the corner to see the house she saw it to be just as she expected for chav girl like Courtney.

It was a worn down looking house with chipped paint and old features. A car sat on cinder blocks out front while a surprisingly well kept motorcycle sat in the driveway. The garden was non existent, worn away after years of neglect. Jade snuck around to the side of the house where Jordan said Courtney’s room window would be.

Unsurprisingly she found the window to be unlocked and she pulled herself through knocking her glasses off her head in the process. Retrieving them from the floor she put them on to take in the bedroom in full.

Bottles of half drunk vodka and cider covered most surfaces only dwarfed by a vanity filled with makeup products. The stench of cheap perfume and stale cigarette smoke filled the air. Jade shivered as she remembered nearly choking on the smell every time Courtney decided to pick a fight with her. Tight fitting latex clothes and animal print mini skirts where overflowing from the closet and gaudy gold jewelry covered her night stand.

For a moment Jade figured she’d have a tough time trying to find what Jordan was after but then she spotted the nondescript box in the corner which stood out for being so plain looking. As she got closer she saw written on the side were the words ‘deceased belongings’. Jade felt uneasy about taking the box but she also didn’t want to have a box similar to this in the near future.

But as she turned to leave, she couldn't help but feel a little bit curious. What could Jordan possibly need from this box that was so important?

With a shrug, Jade took the lid of the box off and peered inside. At first, all she saw was Courtney’s cell phone, some jewelry and clothes. But then, as she dug deeper, she spotted something that made her stop in her tracks. It was a blonde wig, lying there at the bottom of the box.

As Jade stared at the wig with confusion. She didn’t think Courtney wore a wig, but as she took it out and felt it she knew whatever this was that it used to sit on top of her bully’s head.

As she held it though she suddenly felt as though there was a voice inside her head urging her to try it on. Jade hesitated for a moment, unsure of whether she should give in to this strange impulse, trying to comprehend the morbid implications. But the voice was growing louder and more insistent, and before she knew it, she had the wig on her head.

Jade stood in front of the mirror with the wig on, staring at her reflection with feeling a little silly. the blonde hair hardly compliment her pale and freckled skin, or her slightly overweight frame. However as she adjusted the strands to cover her dark hair, she felt a strange sensation wash over her. It was as if the wig was alive and reacting to her touch, stretching and creaking to fit her head perfectly.

Jade gasped as she saw the transformation take place before her eyes. The wig seemed to crackle with energy, changing her skin tone to a beautiful, sun-kissed tan. It also made her body appear more slim and curvaceous, filling out her clothes in all the right places.

“Oh fuck what is happening to me! It feel so fucking nasty!” She groaned as her tits enlarged and her nails grew long. She could feel her bones creaking and cracking as they reshaped to give her the perfect hourglass figure.

“What the hell is happening to me? I feel like such a mega bitch right now. I can't believe I'm actually thinking these nasty thoughts. Is this what Courtney's felt like all the time? It feels so… so… so hawt!” Jade purred as she caught her reflection in the mirror. For the first time in her life she was feeling confident, powerful and had the looks to back it up.

“So this is why Jordan wanted that box, she wanted this gorgeous wig.” Jade smirked as she stroked the long blonde locks. She knew she wasn’t thinking straight but she couldn’t help but admire how good she looked. Well not every part of her looked good in her eyes.

“Ugh. I can't believe I picked out these things to wear. They're so frumpy and plain. I'm better than this. I deserve to wear something that makes me feel good about myself." She grinned as she looked at the clothes strewn around her on the floor like a kid in a candy store.

Finding the tightest pair of black latex pants she could find she poured herself giddily into them and letting the waist snap pleasurably into place. Next she found a revealing animal print top that would show off her new chest perfectly. Seeing her tits nearly popping out of her new top made her stroke them lovingly with her long sharp nails.

Next she eyed gold hoop earrings, a chunky necklace and shiny rings which she eagerly put on. Before she knew it she was standing in front of the mirror with the hottest looking chav she had ever seen starring back. It was as if she had become a carbon copy of all the traits she previously hated.

Jade couldn't help but laugh at the absurdity of it all. She had always hated Courtney and everything she stood for, but now she was starting to embrace it. She grabbed a bottle of vodka from Courtney's nightstand and took a long swig, relishing the burn as it went down her throat. She lit up a cigarette and began smoking it as if she had been doing it all her life.

As she stood there, feeling and looking like a total chav, Jade couldn't help but wonder what was happening to her. Was this some kind of strange transformation, or was she just losing her mind? Whatever the case may be, Jade couldn't deny that she was loving every minute of it.

Jade was so caught up in her transformation that she didn't even hear the door open. It wasn't until she heard a deep, masculine voice say "What the hell is going on here?" that she turned around to see who it was.

Standing in the doorway was Courtney's older brother, Frankie. He was tall and muscular, with jet black hair and a series of tattoos snaking up his arms. He looked like the kind of bad boy that Jade had always avoided, but now she felt her pussy tingle just looking at him.

"Who are you and what are you doing in my sister's room?" Frankie demanded, his eyes narrowed.

"I'm a friend of Courtney's," Jade lied, trying to sound as nonchalant as possible. "I was just getting something that was mine."

Frankie raised an eyebrow. "A friend of Courtney's, huh? I think I would remember a friend as sexy as you."

Jade felt her pussy get wet with attraction for him. No one had ever called her pretty before let alone sexy and coming from him she took it as an absolute compliment. She had never liked bad boys before, but now she was starting to feel like a bad girl herself.

"Well that makes sense, I am pretty unforgettable," Jade said with a smirk, trying to play it cool.

Frankie chuckled. "I like your attitude. You're not like the other girls Courtney hung out with. Like that hanger on Jordan. She was always trying to get with me. You're different."

Jade shrugged. "Well I guess maybe me and Jordan have something in common then." She said in a flirty voice as she sat down on the bed. Jade took a long drag of her cigarette as she stared at him intently. Finally she broke the silence.

"Do you want one?" she said gesturing to her cigarette.

Frankie hesitated for a moment before finally nodding and sitting beside her. "Sure, I'll take one." She felt her heart beat go faster the closer he was. Despite her new confident demeanour a part of her was still the nervous shy girl that snuck into the bedroom. She had to get rid of her.

“Open your mouth.” She said in a low husky whisper.

Frankie did as he was told, opening his mouth as Jade leaned in closer. She took the cigarette out of her mouth and blew a cloud of smoke directly into his open mouth.

The smoke flowed over Frankie's tongue and down his throat, filling his body with a warm, tingling sensation.

"That was a new experience," he said, his voice a little raspy from the smoke.

Jade chuckled and took another drag on her cigarette. "What another new experience." She said eying him with wanton lust in her eyes. At the same time she couldn't shake the feeling that this was wrong. She was dressed up in clothes and a wig that weren't her own, and she was acting like someone she wasn't. She could feel her conscience tugging at her, telling her to stop this charade and be true to herself.

But as Frankie's lustful gaze became more obvious, Jade found herself ignoring her conscience in favor of a growing persona inside her. This persona was selfish and carefree, not caring about anything or anyone but herself. It was a seductive and dangerous side of her that she had never allowed herself to explore before.

Jade's new, darker persona fully took over as she leaped on Frankie against the bed and kissed him deeply. He responded with equal passion, flipping her over and pinning her arms down as he returned the kiss.

"You know, I've always had a thing for bad boys like you," Jade said, breaking off from the kiss for a moment. "There's something so thrilling and dangerous about them. I can't resist the temptation."

Frankie's eyes lit up at her words. "Well, you're in luck because I'm exactly the kind of bad boy you're looking for. And trust me, I know how to show a girl a good time."

Jade's heart raced as Frankie's words sent a thrill through her body. She knew she should stop this, but she just couldn't resist the pull of this new, reckless side of herself.

Frankie's hands roamed over Jade's body, pulling at her clothes and revealing her smooth, tanned skin. Jade returned the favour but undoing his belt buckle and pulling his pants down to reveal his huge cock.

“Oh fuck baby you’re so big, put that monster in me now and make this nasty bitch cum!” She groaned as he navigated his cock between her legs finding her wet pussy and sliding in. Both them moaned in pleasure as he pumped in and out.

In a fit of passion, Frankie reached up to tug at Jade's hair. She tried to tell him to stop, fearing that the wig would come off, but as he grabbed it, she found that it was now firmly attached to her head.

Jade's eyes widened in shock as she realized that her transformation was now complete. She was no longer the shy, timid girl she had always been, but a confident, seductive woman who was in control of her own desires.

Frankie seemed to sense the change in her and he pulled her closer, his lips devouring hers as they fell into a frenzied embrace. Jade gave herself over to the moment, surrendering to the heat of the passion that consumed her.

As they rolled around on the bed, their bodies entwined in a dance of lust and desire, Jade knew that she was in the midst of the most intense, exhilarating experience of her life. And she would never be the same.

The next day, Jade went to school a changed woman. She stepped off of Frankie’s bike dressed in new clothes that she and he had stolen that morning from the local mall. As she kissed him goodbye she felt the eyes of the rest of the school on her wondering who this new trashy and nasty girl was and she loved it.

“See you later stud.” She grinned running her long nailed finger softly down his cheek. He slapped her butt playfully as she did and she mocked gasped at his impropriety.

“Try and stop me hot stuff!” He said before gunning the bike and drinking off.

As she walked through the school gates flicking her long bitchy ponytail, Jade was met with the stares and whispers of her classmates. She could see Courtney's friends in the distance, fully prepared to bully her as they always did. But as they saw Jade's new look and attitude, they immediately rethought their tack before looking to Jordan for guidance. Jordan upon seeing Jade dressed head to toe like the queen chav she wished to be, along with the wig she felt was hers filled with rage and walked to meet Jade.

Jade however was prepared for Jordan and was not the shy little girl she once was only 24 hours ago. As soon as Jordan was in arms length Jade swung an open palm across the girls face knocking her to the floor. Before Jordan could get back up Jade had moved lightning fast and grabbed the bully by her hair.

“Don’t you fucking get up you pathetic bitch or you’ll wish you didn’t wake up this morning. This hair is all mine now and I’m the new queen bitch around here.” Jade growled into Jordan’s ear.

“You’ll pay for this!” Jordan said through gritted teeth but Jade laughed.

“Like how you made Courtney pay? Not only am I stronger than she ever was, I also have her hot brother on my side and he was very interested to learn you were taking credit for her death. I’ve kept him at bay for now but just think how distraught and angry he would be to lose his sister and his new girlfriend so I’d watch my fucking attitude if I were you, understand?” Jade spat at Jordan who just managed a nod. Jade dropped her and brushed dirt of her outfit as she stood.

"Hey, Jade!" one of Courtney's friends called out, approaching her with a smile. "We're sorry for how we treated you before. We didn't realize how cool you were."

Jade sneered at the girl, not even bothering to hide her disdain. "I don't care about your apologies," she said coldly. "You can be part of my gang now or hers, your choice." Jade said pointing to Jordan who was still on the ground.

The girl's smile faltered, and she quickly sensed Jade was not to be messed with. “With you of course babe, we don’t even like Jordan, right girls?” The girl said turning to the rest of Courtney’s friends who all nodded their agreement.

"Good choice. Come on, girls," Jade said, her voice dripping with menace and cruelty. "Let's go find some more losers to pick on. It's going to be a great day."

[notlycheesden]

Rearview Mirror

Heyyo ✌🏻 this is my first written piece for Endeavor , as a gift for my friend @kogo for the evil exchange. so I hope you like it my dude 👍🏻. A piece I will def be coming back to write more for sure.

⤍ Endeavour x reader

⤍ 3.6k

⤍ TW.incest, TW.dubcon, TW.father/daughter

⤍ Summary:

Enji was trying to be a better father, a better man.

And you never lied to him.

Guess it was a time for a lot of firsts.

Everything was always red between the both of you.

It's past four when his phone rings.

He was awake. even on his day off -those becoming more frequent now- years of routine were still strong. His body alert and aware way before the break of dawn for hours of training before patrol, and later to go to his own agency, the literal empire that wouldn't run itself.

He was pretending to be asleep, unmovable laying on his stomach, face buried on his pillow. Deep breaths in and out in a rhythmic pattern. His massive frame takes most of his king-size bed that for more than a decade he slept right in the middle, no reason to let the right side of it unoccupied.

It was almost meditation-like. There in the quiet and calm of his bedroom between his sheets, he could organize -or at least try- his thoughts. A time in his day where he gets lost in self-reflection. The things he would have to do that day, what work in his agency he would have to supervise, and even stubbornly he would do a little steaming out, analyzing his “actions and emotions”, passing commentary from the resident agency therapist threw his way.

“A strict but good man, if not for some, mishaps, from your intense and fiery nature.” was his professional opinion about Endeavor. The man really lived to throw things his way.

It used to help calm his turbulent mind. But lately there was nothing in his head but turmoil.

It was something he would do until 6 AM, when he couldn't take any longer and had to get up, body and muscles aching from staying in bed for too long, the sun already rising on the horizon, painting the sky with yellows, pinks, and reds.

The silence of his room is broken by the ring of his phone. Instead of the familiar tone of the morning alarm, it was his normal ringtone. When he opens his eyes, the room was not bright as he expects, still shrouded by darkness. Endeavor sits on his bed at once, alert.

Getting it from the bedside table quickly, his posture falls when he catches the time and the already saved contact of who was calling him: Natsuo.

Enji picks up, but before he could question the call, the time, or even say hello, Natsuo speaks, voice grave and serious.

“You need to pick up your daughter right now.”

It’s a punch to the gut. One that makes all the air from his lungs escape at once. In a second, he feels like he is thrown into a rollercoaster.

The only thing he can muster in his shock is a guttural and deep bark of incredulity “What?”

Natsuo cuts Enji off immediately. His tone triggering him into snapping, memories hushing in -not the time for this- “She just called. She was a crying mess, begged me to come for her but I live two hours away-Shouto is on patrol and not picking up and Fuyumi is with her fiance's family at the onsen-”

Enji inhales sharply. Dread takes hold of him while he can't even see straight with the sudden rush of adrenaline, sirens blasting off in his head.

“She was supposed to be with fuyumi at the onsen.” His voice echoes back at him in his bedroom walls, he doesn't realize he is shouting.

“Look, this is really not the time. She has no money and her phone’s dead. I was able to get her to tell me an address before the call dropped. she's all alone there. Are you gonna pick her up?”

Natsuo calms his own breaths now after snapping and shouting back, and he can hear shuffling noises on his father’s side of the line. The older man was up in a second, not really seeing anything, rushing through his stuff picking his keys and wallet. He hates the way his father could make him snap so easily.

Enji was completely distraught.“She said she was going to be with fuyumi…” He mutters under his breath while running through the corridors, even forgetting the phone by his ear, his son still on the line.

But Natsuo hates even more the blatant difference in the way his father treated all of them and you in comparison. Always. Like he could fix his mistakes. Hide his sins.

“Well. Think your little princess lied to you old man.”

Enji didn't even register the venom in his son's words, nor when he hangs up on him.

He’s out of the house in a blink. He tries not to rip the door out of its hinges on his way out.

——

He drives fast, almost no other car in the streets making it easier to speed up in his nervous state. The GPS voice droning about the directions, a forty-minute drive that he would make in twenty.

you said you were going to spend the weekend with your sister.

You lied to him.

Enji’s heart hammers in his chest and his flames burst multiple times on his face out of control. His grip on the wheel tightens to ground his shaking hands, his jaw set with such force that he could feel a headache already forming.

Thoughts were flying through his mind a mile a second. Where are you? What happened to you? Who were you with? Were you safe? Why were you crying?

Why did you lie to him?

It was like his heart was being squeezed by dread and being broken at the same time.

You were his youngest. After he realized what he did to his children as a father, he tried his best to do better; connect, communicate, but he was emotionally and socially stunted -Thanks doc.- and by the time he tried to reach out, it was just a little too late.

Fuyumi was the pillar of the household, replacing their mother too much young and having to fit in a mould not meant to be hers, barely holding the treads of the family and house together. Natsuo was out of the front door as soon as he finished high school and got into med school, choosing to live in the dorms and work part-time rather than stay at the manor. Shoto was another history in itself.

And there was you, a couple of years younger than your now up-in-the-ranks pro hero brother, at the time just a pipsqueak. Too young to remember Rei, remember the worst of Endeavor.

And when he tried to connect, you were there. As if just waiting. Wanting your father to look at you. Frail and innocent and just in want of care, of attention, of love. You welcomed him into your life with open arms and heart.

Enji did try to make it right by you. And for some time things were progressing, even his other children were starting to turn their heads around his direction.

Until Touya’s incident.

The media cracked down on him and his family with a vengeance, almost nothing was left unturned or whole.

Natsuo was the first to cut ties. Shouto threw himself into his hero work, completely closing himself off. Even Fuyumi decided that she was done, took the next step, and went to live with her now fiance, completely ignoring whatever Enji tried to shout about costumes or honor.

Then it was just the two of you.

He tried to be a good father.

He was a quiet man in his private life, strict and with a violent nature, but he reached out for outside help to make it right. An older and trustworthy housekeeper to not chain his daughter down at the manor, guidance from therapist to help him become a better father, a better man, anything to do right this time.

Call it atonement, call it his redemption, call it hypocrisy, he didn't care.

He only cares that at the end of the day, you were there at his side, happy.

This morning he saw the note on the fridge.

Going to onee-san family trip,

Be back on Sunday.

You never had lied to him before.

Guess it was a time for a lot of firsts.

——-

The music blasting through the night tipped him off even before his car's GPS tells him he arrived at the destined location.

He parks way down the street and assesses the place inside the darkness of his car.

Enji’s way out of the city now and inside the industrial district, the building seems old and falling to pieces, people are lingering all around the street, but it’s thicker there. At surface level the building was empty, but the music was definitely coming from there.

He dreads the worst.

Getting out of the car still in his sleeping sweatpants and tee, he throws the hood of his workout jacket over his hair to conceal himself. He’s going for discretion, get you and get out, no need to make this a public affair. Not with this, not with you, not right now.

He searches around but still can't find you. Half an hour has passed since Natsuo called. He's in a frenzy. Endeavor forces himself to calm down and think.

His son didn't mention music. He looks far into the street and he can see the entrance of an alleyway, he hushes there.

His stomach tied in knots when he sees in the dark your small figure crouched down beside a dumpster. your shoulders ate shaking with silent sobs holding your dead phone for dear life, trying to make yourself smaller than you already were, head down.

Enji barks your name and your head snaps to the entrance of the alleyway in shock, your body trembling and fat tears running down your smudged makeup.

“Daddy!”

In a second you were up and running, throwing your body against him and hugging his middle. He doesn't know what to do first, but he opts for following his instincts. Enji hugs your shaking form, shushing you lightly while petting your head. He doesn't know if it's him or you who's shaking more.

He doesn't remember how, but he manages to walk both of you to his car without being seen, his hulking form covering your smaller one.

He's shaking. When Enji puts you in the passenger seat and the car lights momentarily shine everything in an amber glow, rage fills his chest. You are in a dress he has never seen before, he knows it was not yours. He would never allow a thing like that or let you use it in public. Your makeup that before being ruined by your smudging and crying, was heavy and meant to seduce.

He closes your door and gets in the car.

He's shaking.

——

Enji can only control himself enough to not rip the wheel or step on the gas right through the flooring for only three blocks. and thank the gods again for the hour, because he could not quite see the streets in front of him. If they weren't deserted while he drives double the velocity permitted, it would be likely that the fears of his family being again under the cruel and ravenous judgment of the public eye would become reality, although for a completely different reason from the ones he has been dreading until this point.

When he reaches the fourth block, he makes a sudden stop, turning and parking harshly with the front of the car almost all the way over the curb, the tires skidding loudly into the quiet of the night and scaring you out of your still shell shock state. your small sniffles stop when you let out a muted yelp of surprise.

Enji quickly pries his hands that have a death grip on the wheel and smash the roof of the car to turn the lights on in such a way that later he’s impressed he didn't send the entire ceiling flying. As fast as he did that and the darkness of the car is now cast in warm gold, his hands are on your small frame like a striking snake, a big calloused one gripping your face between meaty fingers, squeezing your wet cheeks and the other one in your far shoulder, turning you in his direction with a barely controlled yank. Enji wasn't sure if the shaking was coming from your body or his.

He's frantic, hectic, eyes going up and down your body trying to find anything, something. “Are you hurt? tell me,” His voice is harsh, too loud into the small space. You jump startled, but his grip locks you in place, he doesn't notice.

Why did you come to a party? Why are you dressed like this? Why did you do this?

“Are you?? Someone did something? Gave you something, touched you?” He barks again louder, bending and twisting to be in your face now, eyes scanning all over your body. But again and again, they would be drawn to the too short hem of your dress, from your ruined tearstained makeup and down again to your soft and creamy thighs, trying to find a mark, a scratch, a stain. Anything, something.

“Fucking answer me!”

“Dad please!”

Enji lets you go as if you just slap him in the face. He blinks.

You are shaking. Looking at him in fear, silent tears running down your cheeks. Your jaw is set as you try to hold your whimpers back, his fingers make red marks bloom on your face and arm under his digits.

Memories come back rushing. Phantoms scourging in blue flames.

He releases you as if you burn him.

His hands hover in place, and he doesn't dare to move, still crowding you. Both of you staring at each other in fear and confusion as if something would break.

He slowly backs away, and you keep still. He turns the light off and stares at the road.

Enji couldn't take more things between both of you breaking.

He takes a deep breath. Starts the car again to drive back home.

——

Friday nights are your nights.

Enji doesn't really remember when it started. But he knows it wasn't something that was spoken of or agreed beforehand. It happened once, then twice, then his job got in the way, then thrice, and when he noticed, it was a routine between him and his daughter.

Like most things between both of you, it just… fell into place. And it just felt right.

Endeavor would arrange his schedule in a way so that his Fridays would be empty, any emergency at the agency could be easily solved that way, patrols and hero work set on the weekends so he could come home at a sensible hour, just by dinnertime.

He would be just taking his blazer and shoes off at the entrance when Enji would hear your running steps from the kitchen, your pinky apron-clad figure hushing to meet him with a bright smile, eyes shining.

you would get a hold of his tie and gently tug down for him to bend at the waist to your level, your arms were thrown in a warm hug on his neck and a sweet and lengthy kiss on his cheek after he steps through the threshold. you would giggle against his face from the tickles you got from his stubble while warmly welcoming him, the food still hot on the table.

It was one of your multiple habits together, just the two of you. And it felt right.

It was routine. And it felt so domestic, warm and right.

Friday nights are your nights. After he gets home, you guys have dinner, something you cooked by yourself, sending the older housemaid away earlier.

Sometimes it is a new recipe, sometimes something you already tried before. But it's always good, and when Enji compliments your cooking skills and how much he enjoys it, your cheeks blush red. You daintly try to hide your smile as you thank him, bashful behavior so alluring even when he knows is just a little act, playing coy. There's warmth in his chest.

The lights in the dining room cast everything in this whimsical warm glow and maybe it's the beer, but Enji thinks it reflects lovely on you and the color of your blouse today. He says so.

“Looking so pretty tonight, princess.”

The red on your cheeks grow stronger. From across the table, he hides his smirk behind his can at seeing how you fidget in place, trying to contain your coquettish smile while biting your plush bottom lip. The warmth spreads lower.

Only later it dawns on him. Enji was flirting with his own daughter. And it was a habit.

It was routine.

Enji is sprawled on the big sofa comfortably, already showered and in his sleeping clothes after dinner, the second movie of the night halfway through.

It was a period drama and he tries to pay attention to the main points for your quiz about it the next day, but he was mostly checked out, lulled by the comfy dark of the living room, the buzz of the beers he drank, sleep and your warm body draped over his.

He doesn't really remember when it started, but he knows it was gradually. One day in your Friday movie nights, he notices you were glued on his side, and on the next one you had an arm draped over his torso while both of you were laying on the reclining couch, and since then, you were always over him, arms and thighs and breasts glued to his body, but most of the time cutely laying on his chest.

That night was no different. You are laying on his broad chest, using your arm as leverage to look down and back at the tv in front of the sofa, and for you to not slip he has one big palm over your waist and the other in a secure hook on the slope of your knee, propping your bent leg higher across his stomach. Your breathing matches his, and if not by your little grunts and noises of surprise, the redhead would have thought you had fallen asleep on him. It would not be the first time.

The clothes you are using are small and had hiked up a long time ago, a loose tank top and booty shorts, both of them old and worn out, sleep clothes.

From where he was, he could see all your body over his. From the crown of your head to the slope of your waist as it dipped under his scarred hand. His gaze follows the curve of your thigh draped over his waist to the fat of your ass pointing high. He muses in a daze that he could see the inside of your tank top, the soft swell of a breast making an appearance. He leers.

You move a little, and this time, he can make out the shade of a nipple. It’s pert and small and pretty, and blood rushes to his clothed cock, but is late, and he's tired and buzzed out. It doesn’t connect in his mind.

You move. you are getting yourself higher on his chest. Enji feels small hands wandering under his shirt. Presses of lips on his neck. Wet kisses on the stubble on his jaw.

The soft touches pull him deeper. There's a young and wanton body over his. It’s been so long since he truly touched another, let himself be touched. Smooth lips and an uncertain tongue were kissing him, and he wants to devour them. It’s hot and burns and makes his insides coil, his cock hard and heavy inside his pants. A warm slit humping it.

Could have been the tiredness, the beer, the comfort of the situation, anything really.

Enji kisses you like a man starved. Head moving and ravaging your much smaller mouth with his tongue. His hand yanks your tank top down exposing your breasts, and now he’s pulling and pinching the sweet nipples in a way that makes you moan against his tongue with a voice he couldn't recognize.

His other hand was down at your ass, guiding your movements back and forth on his erection with vigor, the friction against your slit makes you weak, but he keeps you moving, his calloused hand encompassing most of your behind. At each needy thrust his fingers would slide down between the cleft of your ass more and more.

His meaty fingers push the bottons of your shorts aside with a flick of his wrist, and now he's touching directly your puffy lips that are messy and wet all over. Enji growls in your mouth as you moan louder when he starts playing with your pussy, a pitched whine as he flicks your clit up and down, a strong hold on your breast.

A loud bang from the TV is what snaps him back to reality.

It was his daughter.

His daughter was over him. It was his daughter that was humping his cock, that he was sucking her small tongue and tweaking her nipples until he made her squeal.

He jumps to his feet and throws you across the couch.

Different from him, you look wide awake. Flushed face and startled eyes stares up at him, exposed breasts still heaving. Nipples rosy and hard. Between your legs, a glistening trail of where his fingers dragged when he ripped them off of you. Your shorts are drenched.

There's a moment of silence.

Enji snaps. He sprints to his bedroom, leaving you alone in the living room.

He locks his door, drops to the floor, and whips his hard and heavy cock out. in three pumps, thick ropes of cum cover his hand and clothed middle.

Taking big gulps of air trying to calm his breathing, his eyes glancing everywhere in a panic state, he looks down, and spot the wet patch on his clothed thigh. Yours juices that leaked on him. Its still in his other hand, fingers wet.

Enji wants to cry.

He tried to be a good father.

He ruined it again.

[witch-hazels-musings]

because I need that good loving can I request Diluc and Zhongli reaction to seeing there SO dressed up for a formal event even though its not something they really like doing but because they dont want to make Diluc/Zhongli look bad in front of all these other people they put all their effort into looking like the human embodiment of attractiveness.

the way you look tonight 

(okay so truth time - I thought about you the whole time I was writing this and forgot you requested it -- I hope the love of these boys reminds you that you are lovely <3!) 

Warning -> SFW, fluff / comfort (cussing(1))(self-conscience reader)

Character X GN Reader | Anthology

Includes: Zhongli ⚘, Diluc

Zhongli

He finds your normal style of dress unique and interesting, it’s unlike most of the people who make up Liyue’s landscape and it’s independently you

When someone lives their life in the way they want to, that's what Zhongli admires the most about people, about humans 

He doesn’t mind what you wear, he would want anyone to meet you, to see you regardless because through his eyes he sees your attractiveness - it’s in the way you smile, the way you laugh, the way you react when something makes you excited or when he gives you a gift you don’t expect - how could he hide you away and not let others see the way you glow? 

You look at yourself for the tenth time in the large circular mirror. An hour had gone by and you still felt unusual, out of place, like a fraud in this attire. For the, you’ve lost count, time you fuss with the fabric that sits against your stomach, tugging on it, wondering if you should leave it open or closed. The most frustrating thing about this is that you had no idea how to wear this damn thing. 

Your head falls onto the vanity and you do your best to hold it all in. With a deep breath, you go back to messing with your hair and face. The ticking clock behind you reminds you that time is not your friend no matter how much you want it to stop. 

This is so hard for you, of course, you want to be there for Zhongli - he was there for everything you ever did, it was beyond time to repay him - but you just couldn’t find the confidence to be proud of what you’d done. So, shaping the image in your brain into a distorted representation of what you wished you looked like, you stood from your small chair and walked toward the door of the bedroom. 

Your shoes click on the hardwood floor which is something you hate, the thought of people hearing you coming only to see what appears from the source of the sound makes your skin crawl. Still, you pressed on, and that’s when your eyes fell onto the immaculate figure that stands near the entrance. His tall, elegant frame is so intense it knocks the wind from your lungs as if someone just punched you in the stomach. How can I stand next to that … you panic and turn to retreat back into the safety of the bedroom when your arms collide with a small table in the hallway.

Objects fall to the ground and, in a ridiculous display of your clumsy nature, you juggle one of the more breakable objects before catching it moments from shattering on the floor below. 

“Whew …” You exclaim, bringing it close to your body. “Sorry, little guy didn’t mean to do that.” You wince, patting its side before place it back onto its home and picking up the other objects from the ground. 

Long fingers enter your field of vision, startled you stand only to see Zhongli reaching down to assist you. 

“Ah, sorry.” You express, crossing your arms after putting the items in your hands half-hazard onto the surface. 

“No need to apologize, are you injured?” He asks, standing himself and reminding you how tall he is. 

“My pride, maybe.” You share, laughing through your embarrassment. 

“Too much of that and we might find ourselves in trouble anyway.” He looks down at you, his eyes scanning, interested and making you shift under their gaze. “You …” 

“I know... I look so strange, and,” you begin, fussing with the top again, “I can’t seem to get this right.” Turning around you show him what you were talking about and how it seems far too loose. 

He laughs softly and you feel his hands run underneath the edge of the fabric and coming to rest at the wrap at your waist. “Let me assist you.” 

“Thank you …” He’s so close to you, his hands move expertly as they work to correct your inadequacies, eyes compassionate, patient as they always are. 

“This outfit suits you.”

“Does it really? I look so … I mean this isn’t something I would normally wear. In fact,”  You think for a minute before continuing, “I can’t remember the last time I dressed up for something other than adventuring. It’s not practical to go running through ruins in this type of getup.” You explain, lifting your arms and watching how the fabric slips down to your elbows before sliding back to your wrists as they collide with your legs. 

“That could turn things into quite the challenge I’d imagine.” 

“Exactly.” 

“Nevertheless, you will turn quite a many heads upon our arrival.” 

“That’s what I'm afraid of …” You mumble, forgetting that he is close enough to hear you. 

“Y/N, need I remind you how spectacular you look.” 

You bite your lip but your insecurities make you speak anyway, “I just don’t see how I have the right to stand next to you, I don’t want you to be … ashamed of me.” The end of your sentence trails off as you look to the ground. Zhongli doesn’t respond until his hands stop fixing your gown. With comforting fingers he presses against the soft underbelly of your chin, lifting your head at the angle it should be. 

“While I am beyond sure you can hear me, I hope that you can trust me as well when I tell you that every day I am honored to stand at your side. There is nothing in this world which compares to your beauty, in fact, you are more radiant than the moon itself.” He leans in to place a kiss against your forehead. 

“You don’t wish I was … more attractive?” 

“I cannot wish for a thing that holds no bearing on reality.” 

“Mmm.” 

“If my words have not reached you, perhaps I can better express my truth through actions …” He pulled you flush against him, his hands now wrapped around your hips and eyes focused on your lips. 

“Aa! Wait … no, I believe you.” Embarrassed, you push away from him and make your way toward the door. “Let’s just go because if I get out of this thing I won’t be putting it back on.” You huff, smoothing out the wrinkles. 

“Shall we?” He reaches for your hand and easily you take it. 

“Let’s do this.” With a lighthearted Zhongli, you exit your home and head toward the lively sounds drifting over the water. 

Diluc

He already thinks you are so incredibly attractive no matter what you wear - he knows you’re one for practicality, from your actions to your clothes, you are ready to go and prepared for whatever will come your way - a trait he admires

There is something adorable about the way you fall out of bed in the morning and, in some cases, take less time than he does to get ready - it can come in handy where there much work to be done 

He never asks for you to be more than what you are - he honestly wouldn’t care what other people thought about you, all that matters is you believe him when he tells you how good you look or how you make his heart clench 

So when he sees you descend the stairs in an outfit, a formal, totally out-of-the-absolute-norm outfit, he’s stunned 

“Crap.” You say, flinging the jewelry you couldn’t decide on anyway back toward the dresser. You’d taken far too long to get ready, even though you started hours ago, it still wasn’t enough to make you feel confident and finished. Glancing at your reflection one last time, you gave up with a heavy sigh and made your way down the hallway. 

You could already see everyone else in their formal attire ready to go, even the attendants looked better than you did. When you caught sight of Diluc your steps slowed and for a solid minute to you debated about turning around and hiding under the comfortable covers of the bed you loathed getting out of this morning. 

“Ah, there you are! Are you ready?” Adaline shouted from below you and like a scene from a nightmare everyone turned to look up at you. You stumbled backward and felt your chest tighten, eyes scanning each face as you debated on your next action. When they fell onto Diluc’s stoic eyes, you felt a little bit of relief and knew all you had to do was make it down to him. 

Slowly, you started again and, with a deathlike grip on the railing, you made your way down the stairs. Diluc met you at the bottom, his hand extended to take yours. 

“I’m so sorry. I couldn’t figure out what would pair well with … this thing.” You gestured at your outfit and looked behind him, thankful that people had already started to leave through the front door. “Do I … look okay?” 

With an awkward smile, you waited for his answer, hopeful that he wouldn’t have to struggle so hard to lie to you. I mean, when you were able to see him in his suit, the way it perfectly fits around his toned body, the fabric tucked in all the right places, the sleeves just long enough to give one a peek of skin underneath - there was no way you compared to him. 

He looked at you for so long your heart started to feel like a thousand knives were stabbing you in all directions. He hates this … he can’t believe that I’m such a disaster. The thoughts circulate in your brain and just as your about to rush back up the stairs and hide he lifts your fingers to his lips and kisses them with so much love. 

“I apologize … I’m just a bit startled is all.” Your stomach drops to your feet at his words. 

“Archons, is it that bad? Did I put something on wrong … or?” 

“Nothing like that,” He kisses your palm and the action makes your spine turn hot, “You look unbelievable, is what I wanted to say.” 

“Oh, really?” 

“Yes.” He looks at you but you shy away from his eyes. “Y/N, do you trust me?” 

“What … of course I trust you.” You reply, flabbergasted. 

“Then trust me now.” He pulls you in for a hug, his arms wrapping around your neck, his hand resting at the back of your head. “I’ve never seen someone as brilliant as you.” 

Fueled by your emotions, you return his hug, squeezing your arms around his waist and doing your best not to let your face be ruined by the tears that want to fall from stinging eyes. “Thank you, I’ll trust you on this … today.” 

“I don’t have any issues reminding you again and again.” Shouting outside tells you that it’s now or never and, as much as you don’t want to, your arms release each other. “Are you ready?” He asks, offering you his arm, and with a deep inhale and sharp nod, you take it and walk through the doors. 

----

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[mystic-sky]

part 1 here.

You stirred awake as the sun crept onto the bare back of the man you clung to. His arm was draped over you, chest heaving softly. You looked up at him. Even while he slept he was gorgeous. You could only imagine what you looked like right now. Your brain flashed back to everything that happened the night before.

He fucked you. Spectacularly well. 

You did your best to slip from underneath his grasp without waking him. Slowly but surely, you released yourself from his grip. You didn’t think he’d be a heavy sleeper.

Your feet lightly touched the carpet and you crept towards bathroom. Immediately, pristine and cool tiles laid beneath you as you fathomed over his personal bathing space. You looked around before finding your reflection over the bathroom sink.

“Look what he did to me.” You panic, hickeys panted your neck and chest. You ran your fingertips over the bruised skin.

“I was so into it, I didn’t even think to ask him not to leave any marks.” You whisper quietly as you facepalm yourself.

You used the bathroom and washed your hands promptly before peaking out the door at the beast in his bed. He was still fast asleep, snoring just barely. 

What a fucking princess, you thought. He remained beautiful even in slumber. His hair was disheveled a bit, but he was still gorgeous.

You crept back into bed, wanting to slide beneath his arms again without waking him.

You pouted, laying on your side of the bed neutrally and watching him rest. You couldn’t even attempt to go back to sleep- you couldn’t stop looking at him. You liked this quieter version of him so much. It was almost hard for you to come to terms with the fact of what he was capable of in bed. The things he had already done to you made your face hot.

And then you remembered your declaration of how good the sex was, telling him you’d come back soon. You felt out of your mind. You covered your face from utter embarrassment. Of course you wanted to see him again, but it ticked you off a bit that he predicted that it’d be this way.

Pulling your hands down halfway across your face, your eyes laid on his sleeping frame. You still couldn’t fathom why he liked you. You’d be sure to ask him why later. You could only imagine what dating him would be like. Would he pick you up from work? Did he have siblings for you to meet? What were his favorite foods- and did you even know how to make them?

What was the actual deal with his eyes? Your glance pivoted towards his long white eyelashes. Would he eventually tell you everything? Would he be willing to? 

When you instinctively found yourself bringing a hand to touch his face his eyes shot open. 

“Boo!”

You jumped, nearly falling backwards off the bed as a loud shriek fell from you lips. 

“What is wrong with you?” You clutched your chest as he let out a deep laugh. 

“You stare a lot. I could feel your eyes burning a hole through my body.” He finally said after his good laugh, sitting up.

“I can’t help it.” You said, sucking both your lips into a line. You bit down shyly as you gripped the ends of the t-shirt you wore.

“I never said I minded.” He slid closer to you.

“Wow, you’re even cute with bed hair.” He added. 

“How long have you been awake?” You blush, changing the subject.

“Since you left me all alone to go potty.” He pouted. Your eye twitched. 

“You creep!” You say, clutching a pillow and swinging it at him. 

“I was hoping you were going to cuddle with me again, but then you just laid there ogling at me. Again, I don’t blame you.” He said, bringing a thumb to your chin. You could’ve rolled your eyes, but he was so close all you could think about was him kissing you again. You hoped he would, you were antsy and yearning for a repeat of the prior night’s events.

“What?” You finally said, anxiously breaking the silence.

He blinked softly at you before speaking, “How sweet do you like your coffee?”

You blinked a few times, earning a grin from him. 

“I- Sweet enough?” You blurted. Your mind had wandered off just from him getting close to you like that. “Two sugars I guess, and whatever creamer you’ve got works.”

“I tend to go a bit overboard. So I’ll let you add the stuff you like.” He chuckled, slipping out of the bed. 

“Let me get you some stuff.” He walked towards the linen closet. You could see him in the hallway from the bedroom. He came back with a tooth brush and towel. 

“Everything else is in the bathroom.” He said, handing you the toiletries. 

“Thanks a lot.” You say, getting up on your feet. You hugged the towel to your chest. 

“Holler if you need me. Unless you wanna shower together-

“No.” You say, skidding past him. You walked down the hall, feeling a little shy to shower in his master bathroom. 

“Aww, you’re breaking my heart (Name)-chan.”  He called out.

“You’ll survive.” You say, you could feel his eyes on you as you nervously stepped into the other bathroom.

“I can help you figure out how to turn on the water~”

“I can manage~” You sing back, shutting the door.

He’s got all his stuff in the other bathroom, you thought. You placed the towel and toothbrush on the sink counter. 

“I’ll give him a little space.” You needed a little bit too, you felt frantic at the idea of bathing with him. You had no idea why that felt too intimate and steamy for you. The idea of him bathing you, sudsing your slippery wet body- you knew you were going to fold and let him fuck you if he tried. That or you’d initiate it yourself. 

But it was probably the inevitable sweetness that would follow afterwards that scared you mostly. How playful you knew he would be as he bathed you after you both would cum. He’d probably give you kisses and make fun of you and your inability to stop looking so cute and embarrassed all the time.

Were you ready for intimacy like that? To make you fall in love with him? Heck, you briefly remember him telling you that you might fall for him when he was sexing you hours ago.

You patted your face with your palms repeatedly.

“You’re thinking too much.” You said to yourself before, looking into the large bathroom mirror. 

“I be he’s not overthinking at all. He’s probably nonchalant as fuck right now.” You whispered, finding the toothpaste. You brushed your teeth promptly before removing your shirt. You slid the shower door open and stepped inside, fiddling with the knobs for the right temperature. There were soaps you were and weren’t familiar with. 

Does he really live alone? You found it hard to believe that he was this attractive and single.

Maybe some women can’t take his vain personality, you thought.

After what felt like a long shower from contemplating your decisions from the night prior, you exited the bathroom. You clutched the towel around your damp body as you walked back into his bedroom. You could hear him in the shower, but you saw he had laid out clothes on the bed. 

“Those are for you.” He called out, making you jump. You didn’t realize he heard you walk into the bedroom. 

You stared at the matching hoodie and sweatpants on the bed. He was perfectly content with lending you his clothes and that made your chest warm. 

You found your bra and put it on. You wished you had fresh underwear, but at the same time you’d probably throw up in your mouth a bit if he had that to give to you too.

You slid on the gray sweat pants, tying the jaw string as tight as you could around your waist so they’d fit. Followed by the hoodie, you pulled your hair out the hem of it and looked in the mirror attempting to primp yourself up the best you could. Why does wearing this make it feel like I’m his girlfriend, you thought.

He had good taste in clothes, you hoped this wasn’t his favorite.

“The slides are for you, too.” You heard him say in the doorway. His hair was still dripping wet but out of his of his face and pushed back.  He gripped the towel around his torso before walking up to one of his drawers.

“What slides- oh.” You peer down at the black sandals beside the bed.

“I’ve got socks for you, too. You’re about to look like a little me~” He cooed. He seemed happy to dress you up and you stood there awkwardly, cheeks red.

“Thanks. I was fine with going home in my dress though.”

“I was too. You looked so good in it.” He said, walking over and handing you a pair of socks. “But I also want you to be comfortable.”

“I’ll be sure to give them back.” You said nervously, bawling your fists under the long lengths of your sleeves. 

“The sooner I get to see you again, the better.” He says smugly, closing the space between you both. 

“What is it that you like about me exactly?” You look up at him. 

“You’re even more direct in the day time.” He said, nearly brushing his nose against yours. 

“I’m serious.” You say through crimson cheeks.

“I just gave you one reason.” He laughs, throwing his head back. “I like how forward you are, too. It’s tasteful, so it doesn’t feel like I’m talking to a brick.”

“Mhmm,” you crossed your arms, coaxing him to go on. 

“You’re super adorable. Seriously, you haven’t stopped blushing at me. I could make fun of you forever. And you take the teasing so well so far. It’s kind of hard for people to deal with my overbearing personality sometimes.”

“The list can and will be endless... if you let me take you to dinner this weekend.”

“I- wow..” you stutter. He really seemed to genuinely like you. You didn’t find his personality overbearing in the slightest. In fact, to you it made him more attractive. And the fact that he was able to turn it off at the right moments to convey that he is thinking of you made your heart swell.

“Did you not expect me to ask you right away?” 

“I did not.”

He let out another laugh. 

“Unless you have plans, or work. Let me know. I can work around it.”

“I think I can fit you into my schedule.” You shoot back one of his signature smug smiles.

“You’re for real becoming a mini me.” He said, wrapping his arms around you. 

“You’re gonna get me all wet.” You say as some of his damp strands press against your forehead. 

“Honey, I do that already.” His voice low, pressing his lips against yours. You had wanted him to kiss you so bad, you were so happy he initiated it. You brought a hand into his wet tresses, pressing him into the kiss. He moaned against your mouth as he brought one of his large hands to grab your ass, squeezing firmly. 

You did a little yelp into his mouth before pulling away, “Your dick is stabbing me in the stomach.”

“Oops,” He said, before pressing a quick kiss against your lips. He let go of you, before pulling his towel off his lower half, drying his hair a bit more throughly. 

“Let me get dressed, and then I’ll make you breakfast. Or we could go out. Your pick.” He said.

“You aren’t the least bit shy, are you?” You say as your gaze drops to his member. 

“Maybe I was in grade school. There are some things you grow out of.” He said, turning his body and walking towards his closet.

“For most people, this is not one of them.” You turn away, walking out the door and giving him the privacy he didn’t even ask for. 

“(Name)-chan, maybe I wanted to put on a show for you.” He called out. 

“Get dressed.” You found your way to his living room, plopping your body on the suede couch. Everything was too nice, and you did your best not to touch anything while your eyes ogled around the place. You could see some antiques plastered with his last name on the shelves. 

So he really is a big shot, you thought. You’d heard briefly of the Gojo family’s financial successes but nothing more. It sort of explains his personality, but there were plenty of things still left unanswered.

He had pictures of himself all around going places with family and friends. You looked at some of the women in the photos, wondering if he had dated any of them or if they were relatives. This one photo in particular caught your eye. He was wearing a blindfold, smiling the biggest smile beside three awkward looking teenagers in private school uniforms. This looks recent, you think.

Right beneath it were three people in another photo- him being on the left wearing dark sunglasses and a small brunette girl in the middle. The third person to the right was male and almost as tall as him, with dark hair and black piercings. He has to be in high school here, you thought.

He didn’t change much, he still looked like a cocky bastard. You smiled a soft smile. He’s still a likable person if you can adapt well to his personality.

“I’m like 17 in that one.” His voice rang from behind you. You spun your head around. He had on an outfit similar to yours, with a black hoodie instead. 

“How old are you now?” You ask, realizing you had no idea how old he was.

“28.” He said, walking through the open space towards the kitchen. Your mouth could’ve dropped, panning back towards the photo and towards him again.

“You look the same. Maybe a little taller? But the exact same.” You turn your body, draping your elbow over the couch to watch him as he fiddled through his cabinets. 

“I’ve got good genes. The kids will be gorgeous.” He says slyly, placing two mugs on the counter. You roll your eyes, bringing yourself to your feet. You stride towards the kitchen, watching him pour the coffee into both mugs.

“That smells so good.” You say, swooning at the scent. He slid your mug towards you as you watched him toss several sugar cubes into his coffee.

Your eye twitches, “Is that really necessary?”

“You’ve been drinking coffee wrong your entire life I see.” He says casually, dumping more cubes into his cup. He finally mixes in the creamer before taking a sip. 

“Fuck yes.” He breathes out.

“Major crackhead energy.” You laugh, putting normal amounts of cubes into your own cup.

“Don’t knock it til you try it.” He says, bringing his mug towards your lips. Your take hold of thing, but he’s not letting go. You think he’s enjoying your fingers touching his while you press your lips onto the edge of his cup. You take a sip before stepping back immediately wincing. He laughs deeply at you before putting the cup back to his own lips and taking a sip.

“You’re an actual crackhead-“ You scrunch your lips, “-what kind of manic sweet tooth, what the fuck?!”

He laughing heavier now, leaning on the counter. 

“8.9/10.” You scoff, pertaining to his review you gave him earlier. He laughs harder.

“You’re too funny.” He raised his head, wiping a  tear. 

“I’ll gain the points back.” He flirted back through his chuckles.

You couldn’t help but smile at him. What a kiddish trait, it’s cute, you thought.

“Now, another question.” He managed to say, laughter finally subsiding. “How do you like your eggs?”

“Surprise me.” You say, sliding around to sit on the stool behind the island. 

And with that he cooked you breakfast. The entire experience felt like a dream. You didn’t want to go back home. But you were sure your friends were wondering how your night was. You had your own life, but you were aching for him to be apart of it. You wondered what his world was like. Surely this was just a minuscule part of his week but what did he do for fun, what were his hobbies or favorite TV shows, does he stay up late or not? You wondered if he likes to sleep with the cool air on all the time. What were his turn ons and turn offs, and so much more.

You were starting to romanticize him a bit too much, and you’d be petrified if he could tell what you were thinking. 

“That was delicious.” You say, eyes on his back as he placed the last dish in the dish rack.

“I’m a man who loves to please his guests.” He leant back on the sink, drying his hands. Just as he was about to speak his phone rang. He scooped it out of his pocket, picking it up. 

“Good morning~” He sung. You pouted a bit, wondering if he was that cheery with everyone. He walked off, mouthing at you that he’d be right back. 

You swung your legs on the stool, slouching a bit. Before you could continue feeling jealous of who was on the phone, he came back out, shoving his phone in his pocket.

“Well, that was work.” He let out a heavy sigh. 

“Is everything okay?” You ask, turning your bum in the seat towards him.

“Not exactly. There’s a little emergency. So I’ve gotta bring you home now.” He says nonchalantly.

“Oh, okay. It’s alright.” You bawl your fists, feeling a bit disappointed. You were going home anyway but you wanted the moment to last as long as it could.

“I’m sorry.” He says, walking up to you in your chair, bringing a thumb to your chin. He tilted your head before speaking again. 

“So I’m a teacher and I have to go check on one of my students. He’s not looking so good.” He sounded a little more happy than upset saying this. You cocked your eyebrow, happy he was finally laying some truth on you but slightly weirded out by his tone.

“He’s a bit of weird kid. He’s got a knack for getting himself in some odd situations. But he’s got potential. I believe in him.” He says, making you relax a little. You hoped the situation wasn’t dire- he wasn’t acting like it was anyways.

You nodded, realizing maybe it was one of the kids you saw in the photos. 

“That’s really sweet.” You smile, rubbing your hands between your thighs. 

“Let’s get your things. You need another bag for your clothes?” You nod. He was incredibly thoughtful. 

Quickly after with your belongings in hand you follow him towards his front door. You watched him put on the darkest shade of sunglasses before grinning at you. Your heart was swelling, he looked so good you desperately wanted him to be yours. Your eyes dropped to your feet, trying to hide the high color on the apples of your cheeks. 

“The cutest.” He said, pulling your chin up and pressing his lips against yours. “Don’t look so down. We’ll have more time together soon.”

You puffed up your cheeks before letting out a sarcastic sigh, rolling your eyes. All you wanted was to throw your arms around him, get naked and back in the bed. You briefly remembered that you had things to do today as well. Adulting is annoying, you thought. 

“I want another kiss.” You were so whipped.

He obliged, pressing another sweet and delicate kiss to your lips.

“I’d give you some tongue but then I’d get worked up again.” You could see the sweet stare in his eyes when he a bent down over his shades.

“Mhmmm, and you don’t want to be late.” You say, using your hands to feel up on his chest.

“I’m now noticing you’re quite the tease, (Name).” 

“Hmmm,” You say, flipping your hair. “That’s rich coming from you.”

You brazenly moved past him and opened the door. He passed his tongue over his lips.

He could get used to this.

******

You were back to your regular schedule. Everything felt somewhat mundane without him. You had only spent a few hours with him, but it was magical. Your head was empty aside from him constantly echoing in it whenever you spaced out. Your friends could tell he had done it to you. Completely and utterly entranced by him, you were at work doodling things when you should’ve been working, texting him when you shouldn’t have been texting, even fawning over him when you should’ve been sleeping.

It had been a few days since you last saw him. You didn’t dare call him. Instead, a lot of texting throughout the day. You were falling asleep with your phone in your hands at 3AM- yeah you had it bad. Of course he was busy, and your brain had been doing whirl winds thinking he simply didn’t want to talk to you at some moments, only to be bombarded with more texts of him explaining his whereabouts hours later.

On his end of things, he couldn’t stop thinking about you these past few days. Your voice played endlessly in his head. Things you would say and your sweet moans- all of them on repeat. His students could tell he was more chipper than usual (if that’s even possible) but somehow quieter and more deep in thought during some instances. 

He couldn’t rid the thought of you from his brain. Your lips, the way you said his name. You were so delicate. He was anxious to call you but he was often tired after his long work day and dealing with his students. He sent you as many texts as he could. As soon as he was finally able to get back to you you were already fast asleep. He wanted you to call him so badly. He was confused as to why you didn’t.

You had just gotten home from work, fresh out the shower. You were doing your usual routine when you heard your phone go off. You nearly leapt towards your bed, towel nearly falling off your body. 

You unlocked your phone to find a text from Satoru. You couldn’t stop grinning at the screen.

‘Hey sweets 😌❤️’

You anxiously tapped your fingers away, attempting to say hi and ask him what he was doing before your phone rang. You squealed, dropping the device onto to the bed.

“He’s calling me. He’s fucking calling me.”

You panicked, sliding up the bed away from your phone like it was some sort of cursed scroll. It may not have seemed like a big deal to some considering you slept with the man less than 72 hours prior. But he had never called you before, things felt so backwards. You really were crushing on him.

Realizing the phone had been ringing for too long, you crawled over to pick it up. 

“Hello?” You said, holding the phone up to your ear.

“Heyy~” He sung. You could feel yourself getting weak in the knees.

“Hey.” You say casually, succeeding at hiding your nervousness. 

“You’re off work right? What are you up to right now?” He asked. The background sounded quiet, you couldn’t guess where he was.

“Yeah. I got off a while ago. I just got out the shower.” You say, gripping your towel. You laid back on your bed, holding the phone to your ear.

“Nice, me too. I was wondering if you wanted to go grab something to eat. I’m starving right now.” He chirped.

Right now? He wanted to see you? Your were eager to say yes, scream yes, into the phone.

“You can’t wait til the weekend, star boy?” You tease. 

“I like that name. We’re doing nicknames now?”

“You’ve been calling me sweetie, cutie, honey- I’m just getting started.” 

“You can call me all the names you want tonight if you come get dinner with me.” He says. 

“Definitely.” You say, excitedly swinging your legs above your body.

“Great, I’m outside.”

“What?”

“Parked out front.”

“What the...” you pull the phone from your ear, and walk towards the window angled towards the front of your house. There his car was, double parked in the street. 

“What the hell?!” You exclaimed.

“You’re mad.” You say, letting out the loudest laugh. “What were you gonna do if I said no?”

“I knew you’d say yes. You miss me bad don’t you?”

You couldn’t deny it. You let out a flirty and sarcastic sigh and when silence filled the phone line soon after, he quickly followed up with,

“Cause I miss you real bad right now.”

You held your head with your free hand, a complete and utter blushing mess. 

“I’ll be down in 10 minutes.”

“That’s what I like to hear. And it’s casual wear, so don’t stress.” He says smugly into the phone. How could you not stress?

You give him an ‘okay’ before hanging up and grabbing the nearest pillow, screaming into it. You swung your head back, letting out a loud, nervous breath.

He’s so crazy, you thought, smiling and holding your towel to your chest.

You quickly got dressed, finding your best booty hugging jeans and long sleeved v-neck ribbed shirt. You lightly did your makeup, and fixed your hair. You spritz yourself with your favorite scents and looked in the mirror.

“He’s so inconsiderate.” You say this but you can’t stop grinning. You throw a light jacket over your arm before sprinting to your front door, checking yourself in the mirror once more. You lock your door before attempting to casually walk to his car like you weren’t just in panic. 

You open the door, sliding into the passenger seat. 

“Hey,” you say, placing your jacket and purse on your lap. 

“Damn, you look good.” He turned towards you, lip between his teeth whilst he grinned. 

“Thank you.” You say, getting a good look at him. He had on blue, lightly distressed jeans and a sherpa lined jean jacket. He had a cool grey shirt underneath and another dark pair of shades encased in silver templates that helped push his hair back.

He had absolutely no right to look that good. 

“You look good too,” You say, sliding some hair behind your ears. 

“Thanks, sweetie.” He said, leaning over. He was centimeters from your face, breath panting over your lips. His eyes fixated on yours. You almost closed your eyelids in anticipation waiting for a kiss.

His arm reached past you, pulling your seatbelt over your body and fastening it.

“Safety first.” He said cheekily. This motherfucker.

“You thought I was gonna kiss you?” He smirked, leaning back in his seat.

“Shut up. Where are we eating?” You huff.  He got you good.

“I was thinking BBQ.” He chuckled back. 

“Unless you have a taste for somewhere else, I’m down for whatever if they have desserts.”

“BBQ works.” You say as he starts the car.

“Then I know just the place. It’s nice and low key, not too far from here. And they’re known for having the best ginger beer. The sweetest I’ve ever tasted.”

“Sounds good.” You smile, watching him turn on the radio. 

“And more importantly, how was your day?” He  panned his cerulean eyes towards you for just moment asking this, then back at the road.

“It was good. Nothing stressful, it was normal. How about you?”

“I’m glad.” He says. “My day was mediocre. I sent my students off early. They’ve been working their butts off. I figured they deserved it.” 

“I get the feeling you wanted to slack off a little too, hence you finding the time to be here with me right now.” You teased. 

“You could say that. I told you I missed you.” He reaches over, placing his large hand over yours. You tense up, not expecting him to display such a romantic gesture.

“Too much?” He asks.

“Not at all...” Your voice barely audible and fading under the music, but he heard it.

“Good.” He entwined his fingers over yours, massaging your knuckles with his thumb. The very sensation sends chills up your arms before your body relaxes. Not him making you melt from a simple hand hold.

Your heart was boucing against your rib cage.  You prayed your palms wouldn’t start sweating underneath his warm hand. You bit back a smile as you both rode in comfortable silence.

“I hope you know dinner is still on this weekend.” He speaks up.

“It better be.” You say. “You still have time to improve your rating, especially after the atrocious coffee from the other day.”

He laughs lightly, “was it that bad?”

“Bad is too generous.” 

“I bet you eat saltines when you’re craving.” He rolled his eyes.

“Just because your coffee is too sweet does not mean I’m one of those people who like saltines.”

“It actually does.” 

“It does not.”

“I bet you eat the regular corn flakes with the green rooster on it too, don’t you?”

“I do no-

“You do. That’s the only possible explanation for your bland tongue.”

“I bet you’re one of those kids who used to eat sugar straight out of the packets at restaurants when you went out with your parents.”

“Spot on.” He cackled. His laugh was so contagious, you found yourself throwing your head back as well.

Not long after, he pulled into an empty space. When he let go of your hand to park, you pouted.

“We’re here?” You ask. He hummed in response. 

“That was fast.” You say.

“That’s what happens when you spend time with someone like me.” The smile he shoots you makes you feel sick- in a good way. 

He gets out and walks around the car to open the door for you. He takes hold of your hand as you get up and shut the door. 

He intertwines his fingers with yours as you walk towards the restaurant. You weren’t this nervous the first time you both were this close. You could feel your chest swelling and hands getting a bit clammy as you looked up at him.

“You’re gonna love this place. My top 5 places to eat in Tokyo. Did I mention the music is great too?” He said, pulling down his shades, much to your disappointment. 

“Nope. Looks trendy.” You say, peering through the glass as you both walked inside. He squeezes your hand playfully, grabbing your attention.

“This is just one of many places I’ll take you.” He caught himself lost in your eyes for a second before grunting a bit.

“If you want that, that is.” 

“I do.” You say, quickly making it evident you truly did like him back. You’re twinkling to him in that moment, gracing him with the most precious smile he’s ever received.

And for the first time in a long time, Gojo Satoru’s heart skipped a beat.

“Are you okay?” You quiz. He had been staring at you for a little too long.

“Yeah, I’m good.” He said. “You’re just really cute.”

“Falling for me?” You said it thinking it was something he would say but his reaction was a little different then you expected.

“I might be.” He says quietly, but somehow still confidently.

You raise a brow at him, was he blushing? You almost missed it, considering he threw a cocky grin right back on.

“Table for 2 please!” He called out to the host. 

Dinner was more amazing than you expected it to be. He was good laugh, followed along by good food and some good desserts- just like he promised. You hadn’t had this much fun with anyone in long time. You didn’t want the night to end, and you’d give anything to spend more time with him. 

“Are you busy tomorrow?” You were on his arm, walking back towards his parked car.

“Not particularly. Just essential things, grocery shopping, some laundry. I wanna wash the clothes you gave me.” You say, pondering what other chores and plans you had. 

“Want to spend the night with me again?” He asks bluntly. He read your mind, and that freaked you out a bit. You can’t read his eyes through the thick shades, and he’s not grinning his usual grin.

“Do you have some sort of special ability I don’t know about?” You questioned. He smiled again, which made you relax.

“I have a few.” He laughs. Something told you he wasn’t lying, but you didn’t ask. “So is that a yes?”

“Obviously.” You say. “Let me go home get some clothes.”

“That’s takes up so much time.” He whined. You were happy he felt vulnerable enough to act this way around you.

“It’ll only be a few minutes. I won’t take long.” You say, squeezing his hand back. “Besides, if you’re patient you might get a surprise later.”

With that, he shoved you in his car, seemingly teleporting to the drivers seat. You couldn’t help but throw your head back in laughter as you fastened yourself seatbelt.

“Any surprise from you is sure to be a blessing,” he says proudly, starting the car.

You both rode back to your house. You were eager not to keep him waiting, only filling your bag with the toiletries and clothes you thought you’d need. You were really going back to his house. He literally invited you back to his space. You felt crazy in that moment, but you were still going through with all of it, zipping your bags up a little too giddily. Was he this spontaneous all the time? No matter, you loved what was happening. 

Even if things between the both of you didn’t work out, (because you absolutely never know) you were still going to imbue the experience into your head. You were having a lot of fun, and that was all thanks to him.

“Finally,” he said as you finally entered the vehicle again.

“You’re impatient this evening.” 

“I enjoy being in your space.” 

“That so?” You say, putting on your seatbelt. His hand find yours as it rests on your lap again, and you hold back a swoon. It was so attractive watching him drive with one hand like that.

“Who wouldn’t? You’re the most refreshing person I’ve met in a while.”

“Are you trying to boost your score again?”

“You know, I should start rating you, too. Just because.” He jokes. Your mind starts ringing a range of dirty thoughts.

“I’ll get a perfect score.” You say confidently. 

“Ohh-hoh? You got some tricks up your sleeve I don’t know about?” 

“You think I’m just some sort of whiny sub with occasional comebacks here and there?”

He was quiet, attempting to suppress a grin.

“You’re right.“ You say in just a barely sarcastic tone. He looked at you for a second and back at the road again. 

“I’m just a bratty sub. It’s imbued in my personality.” You say, cupping your cheek.

“You’re too funny.” He smirked. “You’ve got all night to prove yourself to me, cutie.” 

“I’d like to go to bed before midnight if that’s alright with you.” You say sarcastically.

“You know that’s not happening right?” 

“Because you start your day with a crackhead cup of coffee? I figured as much.” You say, leaning your elbow on the car door. He let out a toothy laugh, glasses slipping down his nose a bit. 

“This is why I like you.” 

Less than 20 minutes later, you both were in his apartment. You took off your shoes and hung your jacket besides his on the coat rack. After washing your hands together like some parent and child over the sink, you flopped on the familiar suede coach, letting out a sigh. 

“Ughhh, I’m so tired.” You say, staring at the ceiling. You had pictured yourself being at home catching up on one of your shows or reading a good book. Instead here you were in his living room making sheep eyes at him as he grabbed his remote. 

“Wanna watch a movie?” He said, flipping through his streaming services. When he heard that you didn’t answer, he turned his gaze towards you. 

“You and I both know you don’t want to watch a movie.”

He smirks before sitting on the coach beside you. 

“No, I don’t.” He chuckles honestly. He wanted to ravish you, but he figured you might want to save the sex for later. He slipped off his glasses and put them on the coffee table.

“But knowing someone’s favorite movies gives you a lot of insight on who they are.” He adds.

“You’re a lot deeper than you like to let on.” You say, shifting your body closer towards his and pressing your breasts against his arm.

“(Favorite movie).” You say, earning a raised brow from him.

“8/10.” He says.

“It’s a 10/10 movie.” You retort. 

“Your review is sitting at 8/10, until further notice.” 

“There are plentiful ways to improve said review.” He says, pretending to look at his finger nails. You bury a laugh into his shoulder, before speaking.

“I missed you a lot.” You say quietly after your laughter subsides, nuzzling your head against him. He hums deeply.

“Then why don’t you show me how much you missed me?”

You look up at him, lips curling into a smile. You give him an ‘okay’ before throwing one of your legs over his lap, straddling him on the couch. He let out a grunt, not expecting you to eagerly pounce on top of him. He instinctively places his hands on your waist. You take hold of his jaw in your hands before kissing him. You could feel his throat growl against your hand, sending the vibrations throughout your body. You used your free hand to cradle the back of head, deepening the kiss. His strong arms wrapped around your body as he let out a barely audible moan.

You pulled his lip into your mouth, sucking for a second and letting go, shooting him a seductive smile.

“Did that do the trick?” You ask, wiping a bit of the wetness from your mouth with a single finger.

“I think I need a little more.” His azure eyes were begging for your mouth but he somehow still felt like the dominant one underneath you.

You comply, dipping your head back down, pressing your wet lips to his. You connect tongues and he eagerly welcomed it. You couldn’t help but hum against his mouth. He was giving you that feeling in your core again. You instinctively grinded your hips against his crotch. You wanted more friction, regretting wearing jeans in that moment. His large hot hands travel under your shirt, caressing your bare back skin. You felt him teasing at your bra while your tongue was at work in his mouth.

“Stop fiddling with it and take it off if you want to.” You say, anxiously. 

“I have to undress you? This may affect your score.” He puts a finger to his chin, smiling smugly.

“Fine,” you roll your eyes before taking off your shirt right in front of him, giving him a show. 

“That’s what I like to see.”

You dive towards his lips again, pressing your breasts against him. It didn’t take long for you to start caressing the back of his head as you kissed him. You missed the smooth feeling of his undercut against your finger tips. You took hold of one of his hands and placed it on one of your padded breasts, urging him to massage you. As he squeezed your mounds you could feel his length begin to protrude and stab at your crotch. 

“That didn’t take long.” You pull away, watching a stream of saliva fall from both your lips.

“I’ve been hard since before dinner.” He says nonchalantly. You raise an eyebrow in response. You get up from on top of him, and strip yourself of your jeans. He leans back on the sofa, spreading his arms across the top length and eyeing your body from head to toe.

“I’m going to spoil you this time.” You say, bringing yourself to your knees between his legs. 

“I’ve been wanting to see you on your knees like this for a while now.” He has his lips between his teeth as he watches you.

“So you’re admitting to fantasizing about me?” You trace your fingers up his legs and along his thighs.

“You don’t wanna know the thoughts I’ve been having about you.” 

There he goes again, saying things to burn your cheeks in the heat of the moment. 

“And if I do?”

“Oh, I’ll do it all eventually. You’ll experience everything I have in mind for you in due time.”

You could feel your underwear getting soaked from his words. No matter, you went for his belt and he was glad to watch you unbuckle it. You unbuttoned his jeans and pulled his hot length out. You gripped the base with your hands, before gulping. You really had forgotten how big he was. He looked down at you so cockily, you felt a wave of irritancy come over you as he spoke.

“I know,” was all he said.

“Shut up.” You said, wrapping the tip of his length with your hot mouth. You used your tongue to swirl around it, adding some delicate suction. You tucked some hair behind your ears before taking it deeper. Your mouth felt so full. You hoped you were able to satisfy him despite his longer member. When you felt him shift his legs, you panned your gaze to his eyes. 

“F-Fuck...”

Oh, you got him good. You spat more onto his length, stroking it while you paid extra attention to the top with your tongue. 

“Oooo...” He moaned through his teeth, lips vibrating with pleasure. 

“You look so pretty with your mouth around my dick like that.” He moaned. He was getting anxious, and heat began to crowd his body. He removed his shirt and tossed it to the side. He brought a hand to caress your head lightly while you sucked. His body really was gorgeous- perfect actually. In every way. 

You held his blue gaze with yours. You could feel his legs shaking a bit. He was throbbing and twitching in your mouth. Little did he know, you weren’t going to allow him the sweet release he was approaching. You were aching to sit on it like last time. You could feel yourself nearly leaking out of your panties. His cursing and sweet low moans were fueling your cunt in an entirely different way than you were used to.

You release him from your mouth, making a popping noise. You stand before him, glinting seductively. He could’ve yanked you down and fucked you right there.

“You’re not going to cum just yet.” You say, slipping off your underwear and straddling him. 

“Oh really?” He rested his arms back, watching you hover above his length. 

“You wanna sit on it so bad, don’t you? Well go ahead, I’m not stopping you.”

His words made your knees weak, but you were still a bit bugged by him. You were intent on fucking him this time and making him call out your name. Out of spite, (and possibly overwhelming lust) you slid your raw, wet sex onto his length. His eyes widened, letting out a soft groan.

“You sure about that?” He asked through gritted teeth. “Because I might not pull out.” 

“I’m on the pill. I’m not that reckless.” You explain. You tried your best to be still for a moment, still getting used to his size. You used this opportunity to unhook your bra and toss it across the couch. He had been fantasizing about feeling your slippery pussy on his length without any rubber in the way. He didn’t think you’d be so gracious so soon.

“You really are spoiling me.” He said, biting down on his lip as he stared at your breasts.

You smile at him before raising your ass up, and slamming it down on his length. You were enjoying him looking like this.

“Oh God,” he mouthed, gripping your waist. You found yourself in a smooth rhythm, rocking back and fourth. You pressed your lips against his while you bounced and grinded on it, pouring your tongue in his mouth. Your hands were in his hair, rubbing his chest. His and your sweet moans filled the living space. The way his shaft curved and repeatedly hit your deepest spot was incredible. He truly felt the best. 

As your mouths departed, you watched a stream of saliva continue to connect your lips before completely dribbling down his chin. You raked your hands towards the hair on the back of his head, pulling his head backwards and exposing his neck to your lips. You sucked on the soft skin on his neck and underneath his ears while you bounced expeditiously onto him.

“Shit...” He said through gritted teeth. “Fuck... how are you this wet?”

You only hum into his ears with satisfaction before riding harder onto him.

“Ah..hah...” He breathed out, digging his fingers into your hips.

Suddenly, without warning, he wraps his strong arms around you, holding you in place. He starts thrusting into you from underneath, making you panic.

“You’re... deliberately... sabotaging.. m-my score.” You stutter and squeak, unable to do much but take it.

“Oh no, you gave me a good show sweetie, but now it’s my turn.” 

The glint in his eyes was menacing as he battered you from beneath. Your moans were incoherent, and you felt yourself falling apart as you leant forward over his shoulder. 

“Whose my pretty, sweet girl?” You found yourself submitting yet again. Your knees were getting weak anyway, you weren’t going to be able to ride it for much longer if he hadn’t done this.

“I... I-I am.” You say into the crook of his neck. So much for dominating him.

“I feel you squeezing around me. You love my dick that much?” You nodded weakly against him. Your insides were turning into jello. 

“What was that? Speak up or I’ll stop. I wanna hear you tell me how much you love it.”

He really knew how to get you going, igniting another fire within you. You finally find the strength to use your body again and start grinding against it while he thrusts, finding his rhythm. You throw your head back, completely immersing yourself into his sex.

“I-I love it so much, Satoru, I love it.” You were surprised the words fell from your lips. Normally you were shy to say such things when asked to. He had your head clouded and submerged with pleasure, there wasn’t any time to think about how embarrassing it might feel. You could only focus on the feeling he gave you.

You were pretty much splashing onto his lap. You had never been this wet before- subject to the first time he sexed you.

“Such a perfect view.”  He watched your breasts bounce for a brief moment before pulling one of your nipples into his mouth and sucking generously. He wrapped his arms around you tightly, working away at your core.

“Now don’t be shy, cum for me just like the last time.”

He knew you couldn’t hold it any longer, feeling you clench yourself around him. You called out his name, feeling nothing but ecstasy as you came onto him. You nearly fell limp above his body, panting loudly. He leans forward, picking himself and you off the sofa. He placed you down, before hovering over you.

“I’m sorry but I’m not done yet, darling.” Your eyes are glazing back at him, feeling overwhelmed with pleasure. You knew he wasn’t done with you either.

“Can you handle anymore?” He asks, pushing his hair back as he looked down at you.

“Mhmm.” You hum. 

“Let me warm you up again. Can you get on your knees for me, baby?” He said, patting the couch. You couldn’t help but do it simply because it was him asking you to. You sat up, weakly positioning yourself onto your knees, resting your upper body against the head of the couch.

“Like this?” You ask.

“Mhmm, just like that.” He knelt down behind you. “Spread your legs a bit.”

You felt a bit self conscious. You attempted to look back at him before feeling his hot tongue connect with your clit. 

“Oh...” you moan, sort of surprised. He laughs against your sex a bit before putting his entire mouth over your clit. He takes both of your ass cheeks with his hands and spreads them wider, eating you deeper. You feel his tongue poke your entrance repeatedly, licking up what was left of your orgasm. You grip the railing of the couch, letting out the softest moan.

You felt him pull away and hover above your body. He put two fingers in his mouth before pulling them out, followed by another popping noise. He dipped those fingers into you, making your back arch. Your hips followed his fingers as he curled them inside you. You shamelessly rocked against his hands, earning a small laugh from him.

He tore his fingers from your cunt as you turned around and watched him suck and pass his tongue over them.

“You ready for it again?” He asks, sliding with raw member against your soaking cunt. You hum, pushing yourself against him, anxiously trying to get him to penetrate you.

“I love it when you start begging like that.” He says, sliding into you. “It makes it so hard for me to deny you.”

You grip the cushions, bracing yourself for the impact of him thrusting into you. He grips your hips firmly with his large hands as he fucks you senseless. All you could hear was the sound of your wet sex in the living room as you moaned brokenly. Him fucking you over the couch like this definitely hit different.

“F-fuck.... more...hard..der...” you panted while he jolted himself into your body repeatedly. 

“Hmmm?” Almost agitated, you look back at him.

“Harder,” you say firmly, demanding to be fucked.

“Ooo~” He grinned. “So assertive.”

He took hold of both your forearms, pinning them against your lower back with a single hand. His other arm pulled your body up, pressing your back against his bare chest. His large free hand cradled your neck and jaw as you leant your head back on his shoulders,

“Now ask me again- nicely.” You barely had to support your own body with the way he was dominating you like this.

“P-please fuck me harder.” You ask, your throat humming against his hand.

He let out a breathy chuckle, before fucking you harder just like you wanted. Being this close against his heated skin was it’s own kind of pleasure.

“Now was that so hard?” 

You were so wet, your juices began spilling down the insides of your thighs as he fucked you. You were nearing your end, limbs feeling gummy. One of his fingers had been resting above your lips because of how he held you. You opened your mouth while you moaned against it, slicking it with your tongue.

“You’re gonna make me cum, doing hot shit like that.” He said muttered against your ear, it was enough to send your throbbing center over the edge. You could feel him thrusting quicker- sloppier, as you spilled yourself onto his length. He let go of your body, instead now holding you by the bends of your arms. He pounded harder into you, stimulating you well past your orgasm and approaching his own.

He groaned loudly, and you were so dazed you barely heard him say your name while he did it. He let go of your arms, allowing you to finally collapse over the head of the couch. He removed his twitching member from your slimey cunt, shooting his fluids onto your ass. He came so much you could feel it running down your legs and onto the cushions.

“Fuck,” he stumbled back a bit. “Don’t move. Let me go get you something.”

You could’ve laughed at the slight panic in his voice when he said that.

He disappeared for a few moments before returning with a t-shirt and a hot towel for you, wiping you clean himself. 

“I was caught up in the moment and wanted to be extra cautious.” 

“You could’ve came inside me. I said I didn’t mind.” You say, laying back on the couch.

“You’re pretty ballsy.” He chuckled.

“I tend to get lost in the moment,” you say, putting on the shirt he gave you. “And I have my own clothes this time.”

“I know, but there’s just something about watching you move about in mine.” He says, laying down and motioning you to come towards him. You crawl up between his legs before laying on top of him. He wraps his arms around you tightly, snuggling you between his legs.

“I take this means my score was decent?” You say, looking up at him.

“Oh that. Let’s see...” he pondered. “A 10/10 for the oral. 10/10 for endurance. As you can see, I’m not as high maintenance as you.”

“I’m not high maintenance, you said you were the best so I-

“And aren’t I?” 

“That’s besides the point. It was to be proven and I needed to humble you.”

“No, because now, I wanna hear you say it.” 

“Say what?” You ask.

“That I’m the best.”

“And gluttonize your ego? I think not.” You say, pressing your lips to his. “Besides, you already know much I like it.”

“Yeah but hearing you say it adds the extra spice.”

You let out sigh, before looking into his eyes.

“Gojo Satoru is, in fact, the best I’ve ever had.”

“Mhmmm, like candy- but for the ears.” 

“Shut up.” You laugh, pressing another soft kiss to his lips.

[daisybeewrites]

July — d.j.

for @dreamcxtcherr ‘s 3k writing challenge. congrats lena!!

word count: 1.8k

warnings: mention of car crash/death, mention of alcohol consumption, daisy cries, i think thats it lmk if not!!

ship: R x daisy johnson

okay y’all… first ever anggstttttt!!! i’m way too excited about it. if you want a fully immersive experience, i recommend listening to july by noah cyrus slowed + reverb

(gif uncredited on pinterest (ugh, i hate that. credit a gif if you use it!! im trying to find the owner)) update — found owner

It was another mission. Another nightmarish fire-fight where you almost lost a limb, almost lost a friend, almost lost your life. Twenty-four hours later and you’re back home, safe.

Well, as safe as you can be when your engagement is on the verge of breaking off.

You stare at the simple ring on your left hand. White gold band, a tiny amethyst set to the left of a diamond. There was a nearly identical one lying next to the sink, the only difference being the switched places of the glittering gems.

You know she didn’t do it purposefully. You had both been exhausted after what was supposed to be an in-and-out mission turned into a hostage situation. Daisy did what she always did as soon as you were home — take off her gauntlets, wash her hands in the sink, grab a snack, and hop into a steaming shower.

But you still can’t stop yourself from staring at it, eyes fixed, hands shaking, breath held and mind racing.

You used to join her. You would wash each other’s hair, ease each other’s sore muscles with delicate touches on tender purple-black bruises. She would lean into you, letting you braid her hair and falling asleep in your arms, drifting into a deep slumber. It was intimate, lovely; it was normal and perfect.

Taking a sip of your room-temperature beer, you slide off the cool granite of the kitchen island. You had a new routine after missions now, you just had to get used to it.

You hear the shower shut off, bare feet pad into your cosy bedroom, and the door shut with a loud creak. The minute squeak of the mattress tells you that Daisy flopped into bed.

A ghost of a smile lights your face. It looks more like a grimace, you think, as you check your distorted reflection in the green glass of your beer bottle. Chucking the empty bottle in the recycling, you run a hand through your dirty, salty hair. The comfy sweats you changed into an hour ago would need to be washed, the dirt still adorning your skin rubbing off on the black material. You exhale before heading down the hall towards the bathroom.

The tiled room is filled with steam, the mirror fogged up so that only a blurry outline of your silhouette could be seen. You are unrecognizable.

How fitting.

The quick, cold shower you take does nothing to ease your mind or body. You wipe the mirror in a circle, taking out a first aid kit.

With all your cuts bandaged and the proper creams Jemma had snuck to you and Daisy applied to your fresh bruises, you headed into the hallway in your towel.

Daisy is standing in the kitchen, lilac lounge shorts you bought her last Christmas showing off her tanned and scarred legs. She looks warm and soft, a very different Daisy than the superhero who had broken a mob boss’ legs just hours before. Her hair is wet and in braids. You frown. You always braid her hair.

If she hears you, she doesn’t turn around, so you take a moment to admire her. Ten seconds, that’s all you give yourself. It was a stressful mission, if you stare too long she might snap. From the back, you can’t see the dark circles you know are there, but you can see the tension in her shoulders and the slight tilt of her head as she ponders what to eat.

You say nothing as you go to the bedroom to change. You find a black pair of SHIELD sweats and an old, holey t-shirt you vaguely remember stealing from Fitz. A presence at the doorway catches your attention.

“Hi,” Daisy says tentatively. Your breath caught in your throat, your lungs holding the air captive until Daisy spoke again.

“I missed you.”

Your eyes widened. Maybe tonight wouldn’t end with one of you on the couch, clutching a six pack while the other cried as quietly as possible, tucked into cold, lonely sheets.

“Braiding my hair, I mean,” She clarified. Her fingers twisted together, rigid posture giving away her nerves.

The air felt humid, as if the open window had suddenly sucked all the AC out and let the mid-summer heat in. Your memory flashes to the last time you and Daisy had a normal, happy conversation.

The edges are fuzzy, but the pure joy in Daisy’s chocolate eyes is clear. Fairy lights strung haphazardly around the living room, a movie playing in the background, your lips on hers. Blankets make a ceiling over your head that shut out the rest of the world, this moment was only for you two. You played with the thin metal band on her ring finger, she ran her hands through her hair. Her matching ring scratched your scalp lightly. You both smile as you pull away. You whisper childhood stories, laugh at the funny parts and offer melancholic smiles at the not-so-lighthearted parts. You were happy.

That night you got the call — Lincoln Campbell, yours and Daisy’s best friend, had wrapped his car around a telephone pole coming off of a long shift at the hospital. His blood alcohol was almost .40.

Eggshells littered the house from the time you got back from the funeral. One wrong word, Daisy would snap and spend hours punching a bag until her fingers bled. You would fill those hours with whatever was closer — wine or your car keys. You pulled yourself out of your head, realizing you should answer her.

“I missed it, too,” You breathed.

Daisy made a small, unintelligible noise before collapsing against the door frame. You froze for only a second, your mind racing through possibilities. Was she bleeding internally? Was it her back again? Did she get shot and not notice until now?

You leap over to her, catching her as she crumbles to the hardwood floor.

A quiet sob wracks her chest. Your hands hover over her slouched back, unsure how to comfort her. At this moment, Daisy feels foreign. Her sudden vulnerability alerts you to how she’s been holding her emotions in for god knows how long.

“Daisy…” You start, hesitantly.

Daisy hiccups loudly, another wave of tears washing over her.

“Tell me to leave, I’ll pack my bags,” Daisy cried, “But I don’t, I-I don’t want to lose you!”

Burning tears gather on your lash line, threatening to fall at her words. You never could stand to see Daisy cry.

Your brows furrow slightly in confusion before you realize what Daisy is talking about. After Lincoln’s death, you two had fought increasingly more often until Daisy locked herself away or spent the night at May’s, and you went for drives until your car ran on empty. On those nights, bottles of wine disappeared from the cabinet without a trace.

Daisy sits up, stamping down her sobs, seemingly resigning herself to the fact that you aren’t going to say anything. Her trembling lip and red eyes pierce your heart. The astronomical distance between you two seems atomic now. You reach out quicker than lightning, shushing her cries and rubbing her back.

“Do you want to go?” You asked after a while. Your knees dig uncomfortably into the floor, your shoulder hurts from the ridges in the doorframe.

Daisy sniffles, her hair falling into her face as she looks away. You crane your neck down, carefully tucking her hair behind her ear.

“You know I’m afraid of change, I guess that’s why we’ve stayed the same,” You sigh, your chest constricting and squeezing the broken glass pieces of your heart.

You take a deep breath, steeling yourself to continue, “But if you want to find a new life, someone who loves you better than I do, darling, I understand.”

Daisy is still frozen, stare burning holes in the floor. You’re glad that the two of you are at home, the poly-tectic adaptive materials hidden between the walls keeping the house from collapsing. By the slight groan of the foundation, you can imagine Daisy could bring down a mountain with the amount of pain she’s in.

Which can only mean one thing.

“I’m not enough,” You stated. It wasn’t a question. You glance down, a glint in the low light cast from the lamp on the bedside table catching your eye. She has her ring on…

Daisy finally, finally shakes her head ‘no’. You let go of a breath, guilt building every second that passes. She isn’t happy. You shouldn’t be happy that she’s staying.

“Feels like a lifetime, we’ve been trying to get by while we’re dying inside,” You say, gently.

Daisy snaps her eyes to yours, a desperation in them you recognize as grief.

“So much of the past year has been consumed by grief. We never took time off, we never talked about it. I’ve done a lot of things wrong, loving you being one,” She whispers.

You nod, there is no denying that you each had a part in getting to where you are now. Delicately, you grab her hand. She squeezes it, a rush of small vibrations traveling up your arm. Your chest flutters at the familiar affection.

“So have I,” You assure her. She gradually falls towards you, exhausted. You let her rest her head on your shoulder, her breath evening out as her arms wrap around you. You feel hot tears flow down your face, fall onto her hair. Slowly, you pull Daisy closer to you.

Hours later, the sun peeks over the top of the mountain range in the distance. You had adjusted the two of you sometime around two a.m., no longer able to feel your legs from how the floor cut off your circulation.

Sometime around three, you had gathered the courage to move Daisy to the bed, trying hard not to wake her. She had only turned over and not let go of your hand.

You haven’t slept at all tonight, thoughts spinning until you force yourself to pause and count to ten, only to repeat the pattern.

You know what you have to do. You know what’s best for the both of you. You’ll leave, pack your bags and find a place to stay until you can scrape up enough money to rent an apartment. You’ll go to therapy, learn to live without Lincoln, without Daisy. Eventually, Daisy will heal, too. You both have the team at your backs, no matter what happens. She would be okay.

But you know you won’t. The fear of losing Daisy, of losing your life, your home, yourself stops you. You can’t move on. You can’t move forward.

You know that the big changes it takes to heal could cost you Daisy. So, you stay the same. You give into fear. You’ll never be enough, never love Daisy right, never quite heal fully — and neither will Daisy. But you still stay.

You’ll always stay the same.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

ahhhh how was it? did you love it? any feedback? want more? put any thoughts/feelings/questions/concerns in the comments or my ask box!! i really enjoyed writing this and i hope you enjoyed reading it even more!!

<<3

[forthehpfanboys]

Covered

Pair: Cedric Diggory x Reader; he/him.

Summary: Cedric doesn’t fit the soft Hufflepuff aesthetic.

Warnings: Mentions of smut, lowkey changed the prompt a little bit so it was a tiny bit different than the others because you guys LOVE #24. If I forgot any, please dm me.

Smut Prompt 24: “You’re skin looks so pretty covered in hickies and hand prints, don’t you think?”

~DO NOT REPOST ANYWHERE~

-

Cedric was a very caring person. He’d help first years around the grounds on their first days, help organize the chaotic library and would talk to his professors if they appeared more stressed than usual. He was a loving soul who liked to offer help and would do it whenever he could. However, one should not confuse his caring nature for softness. 

He was anything but soft. He was strong, he’d fight for those near him and would die for them without hesitation. He’d throw hands if it was necessary and could ruin someone's reputation without a second thought if you wronged him. He might be a Hufflepuff, but they’re just as sour as sweet.

That, of course, brings up your relationship. He was loving, passionate. He’d bring you flowers from the Forbidden Forest and introduce you to his friends and everything was amazing. He’d be an angel and carry your books between classes. He’d give you piggy back rides to make you laugh on hard days. The only time he wasn’t soft, was when you two got intimate in the bedroom.

He preferred having you whimpering below him as he did whatever he wanted. He could hold you down easily, position you how he wanted and he loved to tease you. Cedric would dedicate hours to eating you out or sucking you off if he could, but he would never push you too far. He wanted you to enjoy it as much as he did and of course he gave the best after care. 

 It was the morning after one of those rougher nights and you’d been refusing to move for the past twenty so minutes. The sun was shining brightly through the dorm room and to say you were sore was probably an understatement. Your legs felt heavier than lead bricks and your hips actually throbbed along the sides. Despite the pain, you really wanted to wash the morning breath out of your mouth and climbed slowly out of bed. You really didn’t want to wake the Hufflepuff up. You held back a whine as pain shot up your spine.

Your eyes scanned across the shared dorm, noting each bed was empty and made before you trudged to the bathroom. Your hand rubbing the back of your neck as you stepped in front of the mirror and gazed at your reflection. Your hair was an absolute mess, but that wasn’t what concerned you. Your eyes grew wide at the sight of your skin.

You were shirtless from the events from the night before, showing the marks across your skin. There were bite marks and hickies across your neck and shoulders. Faded hand prints were barely visible on your hips just below the elastic of your boxers. You chewed on your lip, your hands moving to gently massage the faded bruises on your hips.

“Morning, beautiful.” Cedric's raspy morning voice and his arms wrapping around your waist caused you to jump. He let out a chuckle, his chin resting on your bare shoulder as he gazed at you with eyes filled with love through the mirror. He grinned wider while his eyes shamelessly dragged along your reflection.

“Good morning. Hope I didn't wake you.” Your voice was rougher than sandpaper. You winced as your throat throbbed a little, once again reminding you of the precious night's events.. You needed some water. 

“You didn’t, love.” Cedric whispered, kissing your ear gently, then your cheek. “I wish you’d had though. Would’ve given you another massage.” He nuzzled against your skin. His lips pressed a soft kiss against a particularly dark bruise. “Sorry if I went too rough, (Y/n).” 

“It was fun.” You giggle a little, wincing at the strain on your throat. You watched Cedric remove his arms from your waist and hurry out of the room. He came back shortly after with a glass of water from the bedside table. “Thank you.” You sipped the water carefully.

“Of course. I’ll heal ya up in a little, love.” He leaned against the door frame and grinned, arms crossed over his equally bare chest. Cedric’s eyes trailed down your body once again before he opened his mouth. “Your skin looks so pretty covered in hickies and hand prints, don’t you think?” He really should’ve waited until you stopped drinking. 

Cedric hurried to your side to gently pat your back while you coughed and sputtered out water into the sink. He was worried, but he loved seeing you turn red from his flirting. You put a hand against his chest and gently shoved him away.

“It’s too early for this, Ced, please.”

The Hufflepuff couldn’t help but breakout in a fit of laughter, his arms wrapping around your hips again. He pulled you against him once again, despite your playful protests. 

“I’m sorry love, but it’s the truth! You know I’m no liar.” Cedric snickered, gently kissing your cheek again. “I love you.” He grinned, bouncing on his heels as he waited for an answer. You shook your head, a playful grin on your lips as you looked at him. Faking a dramatic sigh, you replied. 

“I love you too, idiot. Now, come on! I’m hungry and I’d love to actually eat breakfast today.”

[pastelsandpining]

✨ Hey ✨ Can I order a . . . 5, 27, and 33? 👀 With a Zelink as the main course? (TP) <3

this is not my best work and it's incredibly over due but!!

Solace

words: 1526

warnings: as always read with caution; mentions of grief, homesickness

Masterlist | Prompt List | Touch Prompts

------

The Princess of Hyrule was regal and elegant, and everything that any other aspiring queen could only hope to be. Refined, proper, just, and wise beyond her years, and yet, he could see the silent struggle she carried. He did not pretend to know her; he was nothing but a farmhand who’d been given the sword of destiny and knew nothing about running a kingdom, pulling it from ruin, balancing personal trauma atop the trauma of thousands, repairing diplomatic relationships and boundaries, or governing a people that stretched from icy mountains to scalding deserts. The inability to belong in Ordon, to fit in with those who loved him enough to mourn him instead of adapt to who he’d become, did not mean he could insert himself into the life of castles and crowns.

And still, Link found himself keeping an eye on her. The first time he noticed her grabbing her wrist was during a meeting with the general in the early days of his recruitment. He’d pray for forgiveness every night for how he looked at her, studying her as if she could give him whatever it was that he was looking for, and he chastised himself for the needless concern. She was royalty, a goddess reincarnate. She probably had hundreds of people waiting on her constantly, attending to her every need and taking notice of every little sign of distress or trouble. He said nothing to anyone about it, but he still found it odd she’d done it multiple times in what was only a half-hour time frame.

The next time he was close enough to see her repeat the action, a fair amount of time had passed. Princess Zelda had warned him that, should he accept her invitation to join the knights of the castle and teach them what he knew, he would have to undergo months of training before he was deemed of high enough rank to offer any sort of knowledge that could be considered useful. The training was intensive, but it was easy compared to holding the weight of the world on his shoulders.

It was during the knighting ceremony, when he was watching her instead of listening to the speech of the general, when he saw her grab her wrist. No, not her entire wrist. Two fingers were pressed to one small, specific area—her pulse point. She was checking her pulse.

Such an innocent action made him feel dirty, as if it was something he shouldn’t have noticed. Maybe if he was anyone else, he wouldn’t. But Link had grown very observant of people and their actions within the last few years. If only he knew what it meant, but he didn’t.

For all of the courage he possessed, it took a little bit of liquid luck to get him to ask. She’d cordially invited him to a small celebration (why specifically for him, he would never know) that same night, and maybe both of them were drinking for some sort of anesthetic relief.

“It reminds me that I’m alive,” she answered, lifting her fingers to the pulse point in her wrist again, “at times my body no longer feels like myself, or when I remember what it looked like, limp and lifeless.”

“Is it comforting?” he asked curiously.

“I don’t know.”

A beat of awkward silence hovered in the air between them. Then, Zelda held her wrist out towards him. An invitation, maybe--or at least, that’s what he took it as, cupping her hand in one of his own to support it while the other settled two of its fingers against the artery in her wrist. The beat was steady and strong. The feeling was visceral, and he didn’t know why. What was it about the steady beat of blood traveling to and from the heart that set him off, had him thinking about her, and of Midna, and of Ilia, and of home? All things he’d lost to the twisted strings of fate, left only with a princess he wanted so desperately to but couldn’t reach. That was the cost no one ever spoke of, and he knew she felt it too. Maybe it was his offer of help, or maybe it was the one selfish thing he’d done since he left Ordon, but he lifted her hand just high enough to brush his lips against her pulse.

Link did not see the princess again for another month. He was whisked away to some outpost to keep a careful eye on the activity of a bokoblin pack, something boring that left him feeling limp and drained and longing for any sort of companionship. Sure, he got along well enough with other knights, particularly those he’d been training with, but it wasn’t the same. It wasn’t like the relationship he’d had with Ilia, or the closeness he had with Midna, or whatever he craved from Zelda.

When he did return, a too many, thirty-something days later, he wasn’t sure what he expected. He didn’t think he was fit for anything with the princess, but here she was, a mere few hours after his arrival, at the brink of tears as she asked, in a voice too small to fit the big role she filled, to speak with him.

Maybe the lack of company had gotten to her, too. He didn’t pretend to know her enough to make the assumption.

The garden was the most secluded place outside of her bedroom and as soon as she deemed they were far enough, she broke into a fit of sobs. Link had never seen the composed princess fall apart before. He couldn’t even ask what was wrong. All he could do was watch her in surprise, wracking his brain for what he was supposed to do when his superior in every way of existence cried.

Without a word, she held up a reflective shard that took no time to recognize as he took it from her hands. The weight shifted immediately, making him feel homesick for something he no longer had.

“Why do you have this?” he asked softly, fighting to look at Zelda instead of the Mirror of Twilight piece that he wasn’t sure he could trust his reflection with.

“It reminds me of… a dear friend,” she replied in the breaks between her gasps for breath. “I’m sorry. I know I shouldn’t have it. I should’ve given it to you sooner.”

She looked so...guilty over something. He didn’t understand where it was coming from, or why she was so sorry over something so trivial.

“It’s yours,” he argued. “Why give it to me?”

“You were close to her in a way I never could be.”

Link frowned, lowering the shard in favor of looking at her. She looked a mess. How long had she given herself to the effects of the mirror?

“That’s ridiculous,” he whispered as he placed the shard down on a bench, as far away from her as it could possibly get at that moment. “She loved you.”

“Why do we talk about her like she’s dead?”

Hylia above, he was so useless. He reached for her, circling his hand around hers, and searched for her pulse point. It seemed to ground her enough to where she could breathe again. When the gasps finally stopped, he pulled her towards him and wrapped her in a hug. It was all he could do as he whispered back, “It’s easier to let go that way.”

And just like that, the people of Ordon made sense to him. Just like that, Zelda dug her fingers into the back of his shirt and held him a little tighter. Just like that, whatever barrier was holding him back from pursuing a friendship, from being selfish just a little bit more, was broken.

Months of conversations between meals, or on night walks, brought them closer than he ever thought he’d get to be. Maybe, finally, Link was starting to heal from all he’d faced. Maybe she was starting too, as well. The dark circles were fading and she was gaining some well needed weight. She looked healthier, smiled easier, and he knew her well enough to make that assumption.

The turning point was the night of her coronation. Zelda felt well enough to pursue her crown, and they celebrated on their own after the grand ceremony, sipping wine and twirling each other about in her bedroom.

She was laughing. Her smile was beautiful and he couldn’t help grinning right back. Link hadn’t felt this warm, this complete in a long time. Maybe she felt it too, because she tugged him closer by the hands and covered his smile with her lips.

This was what he was looking for, he was sure. A sense of belonging, and never had he expected to find it with the queen of Hyrule, who was so far out of his league. She’d never hear it of course, which would lead to many playful arguments in the future, but for now, he was happy to kiss her, feel her pulse, and hug her close enough to restore the warmth he lost when he had to be away.

[nepenthendline]

Tummy - Asahi

I should be working on requests rather than writing my own stuff but you can blame @mintmatcha​ for this, she got me thinking about asahi’s tummy

summary: this is just me thirsting over asahi who has gained a little weight and now is a god of muscle and chub but he’s feeling a little insecure

In the past 6 years that you had been with Asahi, things had changed a lot. He had been to nationals with his team, you both finished education, Asahi was working as a talented designer and you in your own field. You were both 25 now, figuring out your way as an adult and balancing responsibilities with friendships and relationship. Even the connection between the two of you had changed; Asahi was more confidence showing affection towards you, you learned to open up to him, and your love continued to grow every day. You learned so much about each other over the years, memorising every inch of each others bodies and every pattern of thought inside your minds.

You had both been busy recently with work, so you decided on a date-night where you could both relax and enjoy each other’s company. There was a restaurant nearby that had the perfect mix of romance and comfort, somewhere you both preferred much more than fancy establishments, that you were looking forward to visiting again. 

Since you lived together now, dates were a little different from the rush of getting ready beforehand and the wait for Asahi to come pick you up, then bringing you home with a kiss on the cheek. You felt more comfortable now, letting yourself enjoy the process of picking a cute outfit while you heard him finishing up in the shower. Even so, dates still made you a little giddy like the lovestruck teenager you once were, especially with such a catch of a man. 

You had finished getting dressed, now focusing on managing your hair and the last little touches when Asahi came into your bedroom, shuffling through the closet. Being a man of fashion, he, surprisingly, didn’t have a ton of clothes, saying he’d much rather have fewer higher quality pieces, than many styles that wore out fast and didn’t suit his body. 

He only had on some dark brown slacks as he looked through, lining his long, muscular legs perfectly. Even after so many years, you couldn’t help but stare whenever he walked in shirtless, or even naked, despite trying your best to divert your attention. Even through all the changes and growth spurts his body went through, he was still perfection to you. The broadness of his shoulders, his padded biceps, the torso that enveloped you whenever he hugged you, the way his body perfectly mixed his muscle and fleshiness. His abs were no longer as visible as when he was a younger athlete, but the way his waist dipped in a little under his bulked chest, then flared out to his hips and v-line that perfectly framed his, now, softer tummy was a sight to see. It was good he had such thick, toned thighs though, after all they needed to support that rounded ass of his. Honestly, you were jealous. 

As hot as he was though, the best thing about him was the way he surrounded you in his hold. He was a big guy: tall, wide and strong, and being in his arms felt like safety, like you were hidden away from the world. He was always so warm too, his heat spreading over your skin as if he were a blanket or an oversized teddy bear. 

Pulling out a beige linen shirt, he slipped his arms. Watching as his fingers buttoned up the shirt, you noticed how it fit a little more snug than it had when he bought it a few years ago. If anything, it enhanced his shape even more, allowing you to see the swell of his bicep as he flexed his arms to button to the top. It certainly wasn’t too small, but it clung to his figure more than it used to.

You could see his reflection in the mirror, watching as he looked over himself carefully, tugging down a little at the shirt as if it would make it fit looser. His eyebrows knitted together with his lips pursed tightly shut as he observed himself. Quickly, he unbuttoned the shirt, tearing it off and letting it fall on the bed behind him and he went searching for another. This time, he picked up a different shirt, this time in white that had a boxier, longer fit than the previous. After putting it on, however, his reaction didn’t seem to change. This shirt skimmed past most of his body, creating a flat line all the way down, expect for where the bottom of his stomach poked out a little, grazing the material that felt a little tighter there. He let out a sigh, lifting his hands to start unbuttoning the shirt. 

“You look good in that shirt, but I preferred the first one,” you piped up, making him jump as little as he had no idea you were watching him. He turned round towards you, quickly working to pull off the shirt and let out a nervous chuckle. 

“Uh thanks, I’m gonna find something else to wear,” he muttered, dropping the shirt and going back to the closet for another option. You stood up, making your way over to him, picking up the linen shirt as you passed the bed. You placed a gentle hand on his back, catching his attention. 

“Why don’t you try this one again? I love this one on you,” while it was true that you did find him particular appealing in that shirt, you mostly wanted him to admit to why he wouldn’t wear it without you prying. Pulling back from the closet, he lifted a hand to the back of his neck, anxiously rubbing it as he looked away. 

“It doesn’t fit right anymore, I’ve put on too much weight to wear that now,” his voice was low and deep as he murmured, the corners of his lips turned down. 

“Put it back on for me,” you told him, rather than asked. He stared at you with wide eyes, frozen in his spot, “please?” Slowly, he nodded, picking up the shirt from your hand and sliding his arms back in. His movements were hesitant as he buttoned the shirt back up, grimacing slightly at the way it hugged his body, revealing the curve of his waist, his doughier hips and stomach. But to you, he couldn’t look hotter than he did in this moment. 

“So, what’s wrong with it?” You ask in a calm tone, looking over him. He looked back and forth between you and his body in the mirror, before taking in a deep breath.

“You can see my stomach sticking out in it, and how big my arms have gotten,” he lifted his arms a little, showing how the shirt enclosed his flesh and the dips and mounds of his muscle. 

“What’s wrong with that?” You reply, somewhat rhetorically. His jaw moved a few times, trying to find something to say but nothing was able to leave his throat. “The problem is what you think your body, not your shirt. But you’re perfect how you are,” you watched as he stared at himself in the mirror, eyes dropped and his fingers fiddling with the edge of the material. “You’re not the athlete you used to be in school, and that’s perfectly ok. You’re older now, you have a different life, you’ve grown and you’ve changed, so it’s expected that you’ll look different to how you did 5 or 6 years ago. You were healthy and gorgeous as a volleyball player, and you’re still healthy and gorgeous now not being one.” 

You moved in front of him, standing between him and the mirror while reaching up to cup his check in your hand, feeling the roughness of his beard against your palm. “You’re still just as perfect as you were then. I think you look beautiful. In fact, I think this weight suits you really well,” you mention with a smile, gazing over his chest and thicker arms. 

“Y-you do?” He stuttered out, searching your face for an answer. You nodded enthusiastically, beaming at him. Leaning forward, you buried your face in his warm chest, wrapping your arms around his to muffle your voice as you spoke again.

“You look really sexy like this, Asahi,” your faced burned as you confessed, not helped as you breathed in his musky scent and felt his heart race more. 

“O-oh. Uh, thank you,” his nervousness made you chuckle a little, even after so many years together, he still got bright red whenever you complimented him, especially like this. Pulling away slightly, you looked up at him, watching his cheeks grow pink with a grin. 

“You don’t have to wear this shirt tonight, you should wear whatever you feel comfortable in, but I just want you to know that you look so good in anything, and in nothing,” you teased a little, watching as he swallowed hard and his eyes widened. “I love you, I have since you were younger, smaller and working out non-stop, and I still love you now as a grown, successful designer.” Fiddling with the ends of his hair, you stood on your toes, reaching up to press a gentle kiss on his lips, sealing the confession that you had declared hundreds of times already. 

[sacklerscumrag]

Through My Eyes

Clyde Logan X Female Reader

Warnings: body image issues, self loathing, insecurities, mention of self harm. body dysmorphia, reader suffers from depression, mental health 

Word Count: 918

The door swung shut as Clyde walked into the living room, noticing the lights were still off throughout the house. 

"Baby! Ya ready to go?" He shouted before making his way into the bedroom. You had promised to accompany Clyde to the bar tonight, and frankly, he was shocked you weren't sitting pretty on the couch waiting for him like any other night. Clyde's large frame came to a complete stop at the entryway when he caught you standing in front of the full-length mirror with a somber expression painted all over your face.

Everything seemed wrong. But it wasn't the everyday self-criticism of the excess skin on your arms making your stomach churn whenever you lifted them to see whatever was spilling over the sides of your bra or your ample sides; you would give anything to shrink. Your eyes were particularly drawn to the stripes of past harm layering on the outer part and inside of your upper thighs. Stories told by marks etched by you onto your skin remind you of a time in your life consumed by the emptiness inside you. You wondered how things got so bad, blaming yourself, hating yourself for not being able to control the pain—leaving you with a permanent reminder of your mistake inked onto your body. How could anyone love this body? Bruised and broken by your past. Looking at yourself in a mirror becoming such a rarity that you became unrecognizable even to yourself. But you've come so far; you couldn't go back, not now. 

Your arms slowly crossed in front of you, attempting to shield yourself—one of Clyde's loose t-shirts and long leggings that should do the trick, you thought to yourself—hiding it all away until it somehow becomes easier to forget. And it was. Temporarily at least. Your hands continued to roam the soft flesh of your belly while scrunching the ill-fitting t-shirt in your hands. 

"Darlin, what's wrong?" You quickly pulled the t-shirt over your head as Clyde's deep baritone voice startled you a bit, making you look up to meet his gaze. 

"Hey. It's nothin. Just can't find something to wear." You attempted to gather your thoughts and tuck them away, but Clyde noticed the distress in your voice by the way your eyes trailed down your body almost with disgust. "Nothing feels right. Or fits right for that matter." Your frustration grew. "Only the clothes aren't the problem, I am." You mumbled lowly to yourself as you toyed with the t-shirt.

"Hey. Talk to me." Clyde walked as softly as he could to stand directly behind you, wrapping his arms gently around your waist, engulfing you in his embrace. 

"I just don't like the way I look, that's all. I'll be fine, baby, I promise." You mustered the best smile you could before turning to place a kiss on his cheek and settling back in his arms. Clyde's insides twisted into knots at the mere thought of you condemning any part of yourself. He would spend every hour of every day praising every inch of you if he could just to show you just how perfect you were in his eyes. 

"Now yer bein awfully mean to the woman I love." He slightly chuckled before your eyes met his in the reflection; Clyde could see how far you were from him, something clearly building up inside of you. He had to do something. "Have ya been thinkin about these?" His massive hand outlined the marks along your thighs.

"Yeah, maybe a little bit." Tears threatened to spill over as you spoke, making Clyde's breath catch in the back of his throat. Clyde knew about your past, having told him all about it about a year into your relationship. Your heart warmed at the thought of that night. Showing him your scars, expecting him to run off at sight, but instead, being showered in tender spoken praises in between kisses.

"Ya won't go back to that. You gotta know that. I won't let ya." Clyde whispered into your ear. His voice was as tender as his touch. He clutched you tighter as if you were going to float away from him back into that dark place.

"I know, baby. It's just one of those days." You gulped harshly, trying your best to focus your attention back on Clyde, longingly peering back at you through the reflection. He could spend all night endlessly talking you out of the confines of your own mind, but that's not what you needed. He needed to show you exactly how much he adored every square inch of you; everything else could wait.

"I have an idea." You gasped as Clyde swept you off the ground and onto the mattress in one sudden movement. Your fingers intertwined in his dark locks, brushing them away from his face as he hovered over you with a grin. 

"We have to go, Clyde; the party's at your bar." He began tracing along the bare skin on your sides while placing wet kisses on the supple skin of your neck. 

"Darlin, it's my bar; they can make do without me." His mouth continued working its way down, sucking and biting on the soft flesh of the tops of your breasts spilling from your bra. "I've got better things to do tonight anyway." Every kiss was hungrier than the last as he worked his way lower and lower. "And I plan on" kiss "takin my time" kiss "with every" kiss "bit of ya." 

[ilooklikeaburntchickenugget]

Loyalty

A/N: I got inspiration for this piece from the Tumblr account @xxfanfiction-emo-trinityxx​ (I got their permission to tag them!) however I think they’re a wonderful writer and always one of the top ones with a huge amount of Gerard x Reader fics that I keep on crawling back to. They have a work called “Gotham City Rivals” (with two parts) that I fell in love with and decided to do my own spinoff of with their idea. I also don’t know that much about any DC comics, most of Gerard’s character in this is based off of Bruce Wayne, but I didn’t do a bunch of research so I apologize for any inaccuracies. Hope you guys enjoy! Pairing: Batman!Gerard x Catwoman!Reader Word count: 2,781 Warnings: Angst, minor fighting, swear words, injury, mentions of blood.

You slipped off your skin tight suit with a harsh gasp, your teeth grinding together at the rough cuts that the latex and leather of your suit now brushed against. Yet the sounds of a hot shower and the steam that you could already see promised some element of relief to the pain. “You alright?” You heard your boyfriend walk in the room, armor still on in it’s completion besides his mask and gloves that he was currently carelessly throwing on the marble counter.

“Yeah, I think so.” You responded, examining the damage of your wounds in the mirror. “Not the worse I’ve taken.” Reflecting back on the various gun shots and stabs you’ve received over the years.

He came over, standing behind you. His metal armor always looked so good on him, solid black with small decals that you felt lucky enough you only got to see. He gave small kisses on the cuts and bruises along your shoulder and collarbones. It wasn’t in a sexual way, more in a caring one.

He finally decided to take off his suit as well, revealing his soft muscles but well built frame. You always found it funny how comic and cartoon artists portrayed real life heroes. They ignore your hip dips, made your waist the size of a pencil, and even overemphasized your boobs. And with Gerard, well, he was actually a lot like what artists portrayed him as, maybe just a little less triangle shaped.

“Next time,” You sighed as you look at him in the mirror that was now fogging with steam, his eyes on yours through the reflection, “You’re taking more hits.” He lightly laughed.

“Fine.” He agreed with a kind smile, “If you insist.”

“I’ve told you a million times, Gerard, I don’t know anything about those two!” You paced around his marble office trying to explain to him, “They are batshit crazy. They hold no patterns, no compunction, it’s part of their game and it makes it fun for them.” Your feet hastily moved back and forth on the gray tiled floor, the only light source was the sun creeping through the gray clouds outside and small desk-lamps around the large room.

“You’ve worked with her a few times,” He argued back from across his desk where he sat, “You have to know something.” “Those ‘two times’ happened probably five years ago, and it was exchanging files for some cash that’s it.” You sighed, “They don’t have a plan, ever, that’s what I’m telling you. Gerard, I know you’re incredibly smart and think with a plan. And the Joker’s really fucking smart too, but he’s also mentally insane and has no grip on himself other than to kill. He’s like a wild fucking animal.” Your boyfriend leaned back in his chair with a heavy sigh, his finger holding his temple together as he collected himself. “If I could help you on this, you know I would in a heartbeat.”

“Would you though?” His anger was growing, both he and you knew it. In fact, the entire room and all its objects were now drowning in the tension.

“What?” You asked barely above a whisper and through teeth clenched together, eyebrows furrowing as your vision grew red. There was no response. “If you’re questioning the integrity of my current work then fuck off. You’re too scared to kill the man, and now you’re gonna put some of this one me?” You snapped, he remained emotionless. Damn he was good at his job. “Go fuck yourself Gerard.” And with that, you stormed out of the room and up to your shared bedroom.

This stupid mansion he lived in was still a maze to you, and stomping through it in your utter fit of rage didn’t help, the sound of your feet bouncing off the large halls. It made your head want to explode.

You had never once blown up on him in your two years of dating and partnership. But never had he ever questioned your morals, or more importantly your loyalty. And you were expecting some form of an apology in the least.

Sure, you felt a little bad about bringing up his own methods of working. He had his extremely valid reasons, but it was a button to push in response to him pushing yours. You knew you would apologize eventually, but you needed him to come to you first.

After all, he was the one acting like a child. It was almost like an interrogation of you, despite the fact you had told him countless times that you knew nothing about the Joker or Harley. Other than the two deals you made with them in your early days for some extra money, those two were wild cards.

So you sat in the absurdly big California king with decorated in a gray and black and decided to do some breathing exercises so you didn’t use the wall as a knife throwing target.

It was hours, no, more than hours before you saw your lover again. And if it wasn’t for your stomach grumbling in hunger you would’ve stayed cooped up in the room. You wandered your way into the grand kitchen, beginning to look for whatever you could.

Grabbing a cookie from a batch you had baked just the day before, you began brewing some coffee for yourself. Of course you didn’t hear Gerard walk in, since you two had begun this whole partner/dating thing he had begun picking up on some of your specialties, such as being extremely quiet. On missions and such you were thankful for it, considering his armor was quite clunky, but now you regretted it.

The two of you didn’t even acknowledge each other’s presence, despite the fact that you were only a few feet a way. It was like a silent game, but just completely ignoring each other. It was like the other person didn’t even exist.

But the tension was a whole other level. You literally felt suffocated by how tense it was. And you knew your lover felt the same. With the extremely small glances you took you were able to piece together how he was definitely a form of uncomfortable, his emotions starting to break through, which you knew they would eventually.

You decided once your drink was done to leave the room, leaving Gerard and the extreme conflict behind. Well, some of it at least. And back in your room you grew bored, fast.

You didn’t want to show your weak side, determination to not be the first to apologize flowed through your veins. So, you decided to relieve your stress the way you always did.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” You heard Gerard’s voice echo through the hallway next to you. Your skintight suit hugged your body, kitten heels hitting the ground in rhythm.

“Going out.” You replied.

“In your suit?” He questioned, this time grabbing your arm tightly with his hand. “I don’t think so.”

“Oh?” You questioned, turning to him and eyeing him through your mask, “And what are you gonna do about it?”

“Don’t test me.” He warned, his voice growing deep. This time, you pulled your arm harshly from his grip, which he didn’t fight back.

“That’s what I thought.” You spat, walking off.

Patrols were not the most enjoyable thing, the only time they were was when you were stressed and needed something to take your mind off of all your problems. A relationship limiting argument between you and your boyfriend was a perfect example.

Very rarely, if ever, did big stuff happen in Gotham. Small crimes like robberies, domestic cases, so on and so forth could be dealt with by the excuse of a police department the city had to offer. You were wondering when the federal government would finally come and kick a shoe up their ass.

It was funny, Gerard with all his power, I mean being the Gerard Way (despite the fact absolutely no one knew he was Batman) still couldn’t convince major officials to bring in more backup despite his numerous requests hidden in comments within conversations. The excuse was always that Gotham didn’t need help: they had Batman.

And let’s not forget his stealthy partner who did a lot of the work as well, the wonderful Catwoman who always got overlooked by the patriarchal influences that still flushed their way into society today. You scoffed at it.

On your earpiece you heard an incoming for an “escalating situation” at one of the prisons, which was just icing on the already destroyed caked for “a bunch of dangerous prisoners just got out.” Great.

It took you less than five minutes to be at the scene, strutting in and flashing your badge. It wasn’t that you actually needed one, it was just for good measure.

You got led through the dozens of police cars lining the outside of the prison all with flashing lights and a few sirens still going, escorted by one of the main detective inside where you were met with another officer talking to the one and only man himself.

Those hazels eyes hidden well under the mask looked up and met yours, softening just a bit from the black optics of Batman’s as you approached him. “Catwoman.” He said in a stern tone.

“Batman.” You responded the same, arms crossed over your chest.

You were briefed on the situation: A bunch of highly dangerous criminals did escape and were on the loose. The police felt that they needed help because some may or may not have ties to the Joker, therefore it made it a case for you and Gerard to deal with.

“Be careful,” Gerard told you, the two of you walking side by side in the street on patrol and looking out, “I don’t want you getting hurt again.” “Please,” You scoffed, “These guys probably have guns and a destructed god complex. I don’t see a problem.” “Some of these are former Arkham patients.” He warned, “They could be dangerous. And crazy.” “Like we haven’t dealt with that before.” You reminded him, “Or more specifically me, because I could have connections, ya know?” A verbal stab for sure. He looked over and glared.

“We’re not having this conversation right now.” “So when we get home are you finally going to grow up and have one after the entirety of today?”

“I told you-” Before he could even finish the two of you were surrounded by men with guns and various other forms of highly illegal weaponry. “Shit.” He muttered.

“Yeah shit.” You responded as bullets began shooting towards you. A few of them managed to ricochet off of nearby metal beams hitting your attackers, while other nearly missed you as you managed to jump behind them. With a few solid kicks and swings you were able to disarm and knock out four or five of them, Gerard getting the other 10 of them or so considering his suit and physical ability was greater than yours.

“How many were there again?” You asked him.

“15.” He responded. You looked around, mentally counting the bodies.

“Perfect, 15.” You responded with a sigh. “Do they not know how to scatter?” He shook his head.

A deafening silence filled the car on your way home, the only thing being heard was the soft engine rumbling of the mobile. You were still going to be strong about this whole thing, despite the fact that you wanted it to be over with.

You looked around out of boredom, and down at your suit to see if there was any damage. And, well, there was more than damage. “Well, would you look at that,” You lightly laughed, looking at the left side of your torso where a big slash and blood was seeping through. You hadn’t noticed any pain or anything until you looked down.

“What the fuck?” He asked, looking down to from the road.

“Gee, pay attention to the road.” He reluctantly huffed and put his gaze back there.

“You have a huge fucking slash on your side.” “I know,” You commented, “Oh well, we’ll fix it when we get home.”

You hadn’t noticed his increase in speed or the extra few minutes he cut off as you pulled into the large and modern mansion. Before you could even step out of the car in the garage Gerard had already opened your car door and picked you up, carrying you bridal style.

“You know I can walk.” You lightly laughed, holding on to his arms, “I think it was just a bullet graze.”

“I don’t want you hurting yourself.” He placed you down on the couch, “Let me grab the first aid kit.”

He was gone for only a few moments, coming back with the kit in handy, no mask and gloves this time, with no time to remove his armor. It wasn’t a life threatening wound, that’s for sure. “May I?” He asked, motioning to the zipper on the back of your suit. It was so cute to you how he always asked, despite your years of being together. You nodded, moving your hair out of the way.

He took your suit off with ease, helping you step out despite the harsh feeling you got from the slash. Carefully he sat you back down, dabbing your wound with a bit of alcohol and making sure not to directly touch the affected area. There was a certain spot where he had to touch the wound with the cottonball. You couldn’t help but cringe and gasp at the painful feeling, shutting your eyes as it felt like your flesh was burning. “I’m sorry baby.” He commented, squeezing your thigh for support. “You’re doing so great.”

It took him only a few more minutes, and the two of you deciding stitches may be stretching it too far, for you to finally be all bandaged up. You slowly got up, Gerard coming right to you and helping to hold your hips up. “I would suggest a bath but-” “Not a good idea.” You lightly laughed, placing your head on his shoulder. “Thank you.” You mumbled.

“No problem.” He responded, kissing the top of your head. “You alright?” You nodded as he picked you up again, taking you to the bedroom to rest.

He placed you lightly on the bed while removing the covers on the side you always slept. You crawled into the open area he had created, placing your wounded body onto the sheets and covering it up. “Do you want some pajamas?” He asked, now removing some of his suit, his unbrushed and tangled black hair fell just below his eyes.

“Yeah, actually,” You lightly smiled, “If you wouldn’t mind. This sports bra is kinda tight.” He nodded, walking into your closet and grabbing some sweatpants, while walking into his own to grab an old t-shirt, knowing those were your favorite things to wear.

He gave them to you, and stood there watching to which you rolled your eyes, “C’mon now, turn around.” You instructed, his eyes went wide with a form of embarrassment, “You don’t get to see my tits, yet.” He sighed, complying with you as you slipped your bra off and shirt on in a few seconds.

You decided against pants, considering that would take a lot of extra effort. So you just pulled the covers over you, sinking back in. “You can turn around now.” And Gerard did, looking at you with the shirt on and residing to his own side of the bed next to you.

You chose a petty play next, completely ignoring him, waiting for an apology. “I’m sorry.” He said, leaning back on the frame of the bed and looking at you. You looked back at him signaling him to do more explaining, “I’m sorry for questioning your loyalty and moral of your work. I know those two things matter to you very much, and I had no right to question either of those.” You took a moment to let the words settle in.

“Thank you,” You responded, “I’m sorry for bringing up the way you work. I know why you do it and I, too, didn’t have the right to do that either.” “Thank you.” He responded, both of you taking sighs of relief as most of the tension alleviated. “I love you.” He told you next. It had taken him a full year to speak those wonderful three words to you, and whenever he said them you always cherished the way they sounded.

“I love you too.” You responded with a small smile, placing your head on his shoulder which he happily complied with.

[hurricanery]

If the Sun Comes Up - pt. 3

A/N: Sorry for the delay- here’s part 3 of If the Sun Comes Up! (AU - interns fic). It’s been a while since i’ve updated this so if you need a refresher, previous parts here: part 1 // part 2

If you’ve sent me a prompt recently, or even a while back, I promise I am starting to get to them. I’m on a break from school so I’m trying to write as much as I can <3 Also, I’m starting to switch around the POV for this story (this one is Link’s), and it’s very :) difficult :) to do :)

_______

It comes apart

The way it does in bad films

Except in parts

When the moral kicks in

_______

Link knows a few things.

The first is that Amelia Shepherd makes him nervous.

That’s something he knows. The reason behind it though, is a little less clear to him. She’s unpredictable. And he thinks that that’s part of it. Part of the reason his pulse quickens when she walks into the room. Sometimes, he’ll bump into her in the apartment, and she’ll be all darting eyes and nervous hands wrapped around a mug of tea. But most of the time, it’s the opposite. It’s shameless, the way she’ll walk into a room and say something completely audacious. Unexpected. Is the way he wants to label it. And the anticipation of it, the anticipation of which Amelia he’s going to get, is what makes him the most nervous.

This morning there’s an edge to her smile. One that feels measured and purposeful. Link watches her as she enters the kitchen. He finishes pouring himself a cup of coffee and witnesses, just in time, for Amelia to survey Maggie and Winston as they innocently eat their breakfast at the counter.

The smirk that grows on her face causes Link to instinctively brace himself. Because it’s the same look she gives before she’s about to say something completely untamed. Untamed, yet at the same time, Link knows whatever she’s about to say, she’ll say it so unashamedly. But when the words finally drop from her mouth, Link still doesn’t feel prepared.

“I miss sex,” she announces, as her eyes dart amusedly between the couple at the counter. “And you guys are doing a great job of reminding me of that.”

Link has to stifle the coughing fit that threatens to overcome his body as he struggles through his first sip of coffee. And the startled look on Maggie’s face just adds fuel to the fire. Like Amelia somehow gains something from this type of reaction.

“What’s with the faces?” she adds, nonchalantly, as she reaches for a mug and turns back to Maggie and Winston. “I’m saying I feel inspired by you.”

“Okay…” Maggie gives a warning stare. “But we’re not-”

“No, I get it,” Amelia interrupts. Link shuffles out of her way as she reaches for the coffee pot, but he doesn’t miss the sideways glance she gives him. “You guys aren’t together together, you’re just…” She trails off as she focuses on not overflowing her mug with the hot liquid. Then she turns back around to face the pair at the counter. “Having fun?”

Winston shrugs at this, and Maggie refocuses all of her attention on the food in front of her.

“Like I said,” Amelia’s expression falters only slightly to incorporate some sympathy towards Maggie. “Inspiring.”

And with that she turns on her heels, ready to leave. Like she always does. After dropping a bomb of awkwardness amongst the group, she immediately fleas. And Link feels his heart rate slow at her absence.

His eyes shift to Maggie and Winston, eyebrows raised.

“She’s pleasant in the morning.”

There’s hums of agreement, and Maggie stands up, beginning to clear their dishes.

“We carpooling today?” Link inquires, as he starts to help Maggie clean the kitchen.

“Well, there’s that intern mixer tonight,” Maggie reminds him. “That thing Dr. Webber is hosting?”

“Right,” Link sighs.

“I was going to go straight there after my shift,” she adds. “So, we’d all have to sort of plan our timing with that.”

Link nods, stepping forward to set his empty coffee mug in the sink.

“Will you ask Amelia what she’s doing? If she’s planning on going?”

Link nods again at Maggie’s request, and begins moving slowly down the hallway towards Amelia’s room. It dawns on him that he’s never stepped foot in Amelia’s room, or even properly had a glance inside. So, it feels foreign to him that his fist is knocking against the wood of her door.

“Yeah?”

There’s music playing on the other side and Link clears his throat to compensate for that.

“Hey! Maggie wanted me to ask you-”

“I can’t really hear you, just come in!”

Link hesitates. And he doesn’t know why. But then he’s annoyed with himself for not knowing why, so he pushes forward. His hand wraps around the door knob and then it’s twisting and suddenly he’s standing in her bedroom.

“Hey.”

His head turns to follow the sound of her voice and his eyes settle on her, to where she sits cross-legged on the floor in front of a full-length mirror. She raises her eyebrows at him, through the reflection in the mirror. And when Link doesn’t speak right away, she reaches forward to turn off her music.

“Can I help you with something?” She sounds smug as she resumes her mascara application.

“Uh, yeah. Sorry. Maggie wanted me to ask what your plans are for the intern mixer tonight?”

“Shit. I totally forgot that was tonight,” she mutters, concentrating on what she’s doing in the mirror.

Link sighs, and he feels the inexplicable need to shove his hands in his pockets. He takes a moment to let his eyes wander around the room. He can’t help it. The new territory makes him curious.

The room is a mess, and that’s putting it lightly. It almost looks like she hasn’t unpacked all the way. There are clothes scattered on almost every surface, and nothing seems to be put away. He’d like to assume that it’s because she’s not moved all the way in yet, but the pictures hanging on the wall say otherwise.

It feels self-indulgent, as he lets his eyes scan the framed photos around the room. They mostly consist of what Link gathers to be college friends and travels. But, there’s also a significant presence of people that look extraordinarily similar to Amelia. Her siblings, he presumes. There are two photos in particular, that stand out to Link. One consists of a young girl, no older than 6 or 7. In the photo, she’s riding a bike, and there’s a dark-haired teenage boy gently pushing the bike forward from behind. Derek, Link imagines. And it makes him smile to imagine Amelia learning to ride a bike.

The second photo that catches Link’s eye is just a solo shot of a middle-aged man. He’s standing on the edge of a dock, holding up a fishing pole. The man in the photo has a striking resemblance to Amelia and Derek, and Link is inclined to conclude that it’s their father.

Link snaps back to reality when he hears Amelia clear her throat. His eyes meet hers in the reflection of the mirror and she’s sneering at him incredulously.

“Get a good look?”

“Sorry,” Link mumbles, shaking his head at himself. He struggles for a moment to arrive back to his reasoning for being here in the first place. “Uh, yeah. Party tonight, or….‘intern mixer,’ or whatever you want to call it….do you need a ride?”

“Ugh,” she groans, starting to stand up from her spot on the floor. “Derek requested Lexie and I on his service, again, so. If we’re not too late I’ll probably grab a ride with him.”

Link nods. He tries to suppress the sudden disappointment he feels. Because it makes no sense to him, that he should feel anything based upon whether or not Amelia would be in attendance.

“Okay,” he turns on his heels, deciding he doesn’t need anything more than that answer from her.

“Link?”

He turns around in the doorway, looking at her expectantly.

“Maybe I’ll see you tonight?”

“Yeah,” he agrees, but he forces an element of nonchalance to his response. She’s staring at him with an expression of bewilderment and it only makes him want to rush his exit more.

He rips his gaze away from hers as he steps into the hallway, and when he pulls the door shut, he feels relief.

_______

Links knows a few things.

The first is that Amelia Shepherd makes him nervous.

The second is that this party is lame.

“This sucks,” Jo huffs out a sigh, from where she’s standing next to him.

They’re stationed at one of those tall cocktail tables, in the middle of a decently packed banquet room. Link’s eyes scan the room, for what feels like the thousandth time that night.

“Who are you looking for?” Jo ridicules him. She smirks at him knowingly as she sips her drink and Link tries not to roll his eyes at her.

“I’m not looking for anyone….” He trails off, as his eyes roam the room again. Because although he dismisses the accusation of looking for anyone, he does find her.

She’s standing near the entryway with Derek. And they must have just arrived, because there’s a leather jacket still covering her frame.

He thinks for a moment that he should cross the room. Walk towards them and casually point out where the coat check area is, perhaps. But he doesn’t do that. Because the closer he looks, the more it becomes obvious that the two are arguing.

Amelia’s back is to him, but her body language, and the sharpness to Derek’s expression, are all the evidence he needs.

“You’re staring.” Jo’s voice breaks through his concentration, and Link glances sideways at her.

“Am not.”

“Are too,” she bites back. “And you’re boring me. I’m going to get another drink. Do you want one?”

Link shakes his head at the offer, his eyes returning to his current preoccupation. He barely notices Jo’s dramatic sigh, as she walks away. Barely notices, because now Amelia is crossing the room, her eyes narrowing in on his as she visibly tries to shake off her anger.

“You made it.” It’s all Link can come up with as she approaches the table.

Amelia huffs out an exasperated breath as she settles across from him at the table. She shrugs, her eyes dancing around the room as she takes in the atmosphere of the event.

“Of course I did,” she mutters. “I’m a blast at parties.”

Link frowns. Unsure of how to lighten the mood.

“There’s a coat check, you know?” He glances down at her, surveying the black form-fitting dress and leather jacket. He suddenly feels unimpressive in the dull grey of his suit jacket.

“Nah,” Amelia shakes her head, still preoccupied by the room around them. “I’m fine like this.”

Her eyes finally rest on his. And she breathes out again, but this time Link thinks it sounds more relieved.

“I really am a blast at parties,” she bites her lip, grinning slightly. “Or, I used to be.”

“I believe you,” Link offers a smile in return.

And suddenly there’s a sense of ease between them. One that Link wasn’t expecting.

There’s something about her, or rather about her demeanor, that makes him feel nostalgic. He takes in her energy and it makes him feel at home, but not necessarily in a yearning way. Because there’s an edge to it. Like the feeling he’s nostalgic for triggers an almost anxious familiarity in the pit of his stomach. Like home is broken.

“So, what is it?”

He hasn’t even realized he’s voiced the question out loud. It’s when her defensive tone kicks in, that he realizes what he’s done.

“What?”

Link groans internally. Because he hadn’t necessarily intended to speak on behalf of his revelation.

“You….remind me of….me, Amelia,” he mutters the confession, shaking his head at himself as he tries to make sense of the direction his thoughts are taking. “Like a sixth sense almost….”

She quirks an eyebrow at him, but doesn’t offer any words. The silence urges Link to continue.

“Okay, no. I mean, you don’t remind me of me, totally. I just mean….”

“We are very different people,” she interrupts him. And it causes Link to look up from the pattern of the tablecloth he’d forced himself to analyze while he stumbled through his words. But he locks eyes with her, and there’s a smug smile on her face. It basically grants him permission to move forward.

“Yeah,” he chuckles in agreement. “But there’s some common ground here. I can feel it.”

Link tries to match her smirk, but he knows he’s not doing it any justice.

“So, what is it?” He repeats his question from earlier, his tone playful. “That makes you this way?”

There’s a fraction of a second where her face falls, in reaction to the additional question. It’s so subtle Link thinks he’s imagined it. Because he’s looking at her now, and the smirk is still there. So he continues.

“Doesn’t seem like you get along with your family,” he nods towards Derek across the room, to where he’s now stood chatting with Mark Sloan. “And from my experience, that kind of thing usually happens for a reason.”

Amelia shrugs dismissively, and reaches forward for a handful of pretzels from the array of snacks on the table.

Link watches her, notes her form of deflection, and he takes it upon himself to start lighthearted. Because that’s where they are right now. That’s the stage they always seem to be stuck in. “You….what? Scratched your brother's car up? Forgot to feed the family’s pet fish? And everyone still holds it against you? What is it, huh?”

Amelia stifles a laugh around a mouthful of pretzels, and it urges Link on.

“I’m getting closer, aren’t I? Should I dive deeper?”

Link tries not to laugh at her, as she struggles to chew the pretzels in her mouth. He lets himself be relentless, continuing with the interrogation.

“Okay, so….some sort of chronic diagnosis tear your family apart?” Link glances across the room as he speaks, and his eyes settle on Derek. There’s a snide expression on Derek’s face as he talks to Mark, and all Link sees is Amelia in it. His eyes dart back to hers as potential realization hits. “Children of divorce?”

Amelia immediately stops chewing her pretzels. And this time around it’s not as subtle when her face falls.

“Children of divorce! I knew it! I told you I could sense that kind of thing.”

Link is proud of himself for a moment. Until he watches her harshly swallow. It’s the kind of action that makes him instantly retreat. Instantly regret his exclamation.

Amelia finally finds her voice. And when she does, it’s laced with irony. “I wish it had been a divorce.”

And now it was Link’s turn for the silence. For the lack of response that would hopefully urge her to continue.

“Your parents are divorced?” There’s something cunning about her tone, and Link can’t quite place why it’s there. It surely doesn’t sound like a question, when she asks it. It sounds like she already knows the answer, and she’s choosing to be sly as she witholds whatever she’s about to throw his way next.

But Link nods at her anyway, disregarding the non-question.

“Wanna trade childhood traumas?” She eventually mutters, a slight smile on her lips as she looks down at the bowl of pretzels. Link can see it in her face, the way she’s determining whether to abandon the conversation and reach for another handful. But she doesn’t do that.

He continues to stare at her, in a desperate attempt to decipher which version of Amelia this is.

“My Dad died when I was five,” her gaze shifts from the pretzels to his face and Link’s heart drops to his stomach. “So, he kind of missed out on the divorce stage....” She laughs under her breath, almost in disbelief. “Not that there would have been one,” she adds the after-thought.

“Amelia,” he murmurs. And he thinks he steps forward, but there’s a table in front of him, blocking him, so there’s really no point. “I’m so sorry, I-”

It’s her laughter that cuts him off mid-apology. Link doesn’t know if he can categorize it as authentic laughter. The bizarre reaction would probably be more accurately described as harsh exhales and another out of place smile.

“Amelia.”

She swallows her laughter a bit at the seriousness of his tone.

“God, I feel like an asshole,” he mutters.

“Okay, but don’t,” Amelia shrugs. “Believe me I’ve had years to process it.”

Link feels his eyes narrow at this.

“And honestly I’m pretty impressed you could sense the childhood trauma in the first place,” she adds. “Maybe we’re more alike than I thought….” She trails off, and there’s a softness to her next words. “And I don’t at all mean to downplay yours….I just….have a dark sense of humor. Sometimes I forget that it can put people off.”

“No, I get it.”

Link watches as a subtle grin take over her expression, and he sighs in relief. But he can’t help but to notice how distracted she is. How her eyes keep shifting around the room.

“This party is kinda lame, huh?” Link muses. “I was going to head home soon. Want a ride?”

For a moment her wandering eyes stop, and Link thinks her smile looks polite. It doesn’t reach her eyes.

“Yeah,” she murmurs, distracted again. “I feel like I should make the rounds first though, right? Say hello to a few people?”

Link nods. Because this makes sense.

“Give me like 20 minutes, okay? And then we can leave?”

“Okay,” Link agrees, but she’s already walking away by the time he says it.

_______

Link knows a few things.

But there’s one fact at the forefront of his mind.

This party is lame and he wants to leave. He’s promised a ride home to Amelia, but it’s been over an hour and since then, he’s completely lost track of her.

He gives up. Assumes she’s gotten a ride home with either Derek or Lexie.

He makes his way to the parking lot and he hears her voice first. It’s low and it’s gravelly and it’s certainly Amelia.

But it’s perplexing, because the first person he sees is Mark, and not Amelia.

But then Mark steps to the side, and there she is.

He watches, and he hasn't realized that his feet have stopped moving. But his eyes are glued the same way his shoes apparently are to the pavement below.

She’s smiling at Mark, but the look she’s giving him makes Link feel gross. Because it’s almost performative, the way she gets into his car. And suddenly there's another thing that Link knows.

That being, that for some reason, this hurts.

_______

It’s more accurate to say that Link has learned a few things. Especially since moving in with 3 strangers.

He’s learned the separate soundtracks of each of his roommate’s arrivals home.

He can tell when Maggie is home, because she usually mutters to herself as she walks about, hanging her purse and coat up.

He can tell when Lexie is home, because the first thing she does is walk to the kitchen. Link will hear the distinct sound of the fridge door opening just after someone comes home, and immediately he knows that it’s Lexie.

He can tell when Amelia is home, because of the clacking sound her boots make across the tiled floor of the entryway. He doesn’t know why she always seems to be wearing the heeled boots, but he finds comfort in the association.

Another thing he’s learned is that he’s usually the first to wake up in the apartment. Especially on Saturdays.

He likes waking up early on the weekends, but this morning feels a little different. Definitely due to the lack of sleep the night prior. He wants to blame the restless night on anything else, besides the fact that he’s yet to hear a pair of heeled boots cross the tiled floor.

Link seeks distractions on this Saturday morning. He thinks he’ll make breakfast. But, the relative emptiness of the fridge causes a change of plans.

And so he distracts himself by going to the store.

_______

When Link returns home, he’s not expecting to see Amelia right away.

He walks towards their front door, arms full of grocery bags, and there she is. Leaning against the wall outside and watching him carefully as he approaches.

She’s wearing the same dress she wore last night, her leather jacket slung over her arm.

“Well, good morning,” he tries to mask the sharpness in his tone.

She looks at him tiredly.

It’s then that he decides to give her the benefit of the doubt. He’d had a feeling in the pit of his stomach all night. He’d lost sleep over it. But he looks at her now, and everything he’s been feeling is replaced with one thing: concern.

So he re-routes his attitude.

“You waiting out here just so you could hold the door open for me?” He jokes, gesturing towards the bags in his arms.

“I lost my keys,” she admits.

Link notices the way she can’t seem to hold eye contact, and he decides to drop the joking manner.

“Ah,” he hums. “Here.”

He unceremoniously shoves a grocery bag into her arms, so that he can free up a hand to reach for his own keys.

He unlocks the door and Amelia basically darts past him, setting the bag on the counter and heading towards her room.

Link tries not to feed into his concern, and he busies himself by putting groceries away.

But, a moment later, he hears the familiar sound of her heels against the floor. The sound amplifies until she rounds the corner into the kitchen again, and Link looks up just in time.

She looks at him sheepishly.

“I, uh. I have so much stuff all over my bed….you don’t mind if I take the couch for a bit, do you?”

It takes Link a moment to process this information. He glances past the kitchen counter, to the living room area. It’s all pretty much one big room, an open floor plan.

“Be my guest,” he murmurs. “I was about to make breakfast though, so, hopefully I don’t bother you too much over here?”

Amelia shakes her head, as if to say she won’t be bothered, and she continues over to the living area.

“You should really….unpack all your stuff. Put things away,” Link jokes, recalling just how messy her room was as of yesterday morning.

“‘M too tired right now,” she slurs, as she collapses against the couch on the opposite wall.

Link attempts to carry on making breakfast. But he’s admittedly distracted by her presence.

She doesn’t look comfortable. She’s still wearing her dress from last night. And she’s sitting upright, her head tilted back against the cushions.

“I could help you, you know?” Link offers. “Put away your things and clear off your bed?”

“Maybe tomorrow.”

“Amelia, it’s 9am.”

This makes her laugh.

Her eyes are still closed but she’s laughing under her breath.

“Oh!” Suddenly Link remembers. “I saw this loose tea variety at the store and it made me think of you and I bought it.”

Even with the length of the room, Link can tell she’s slightly opened her eyes, peering at him.

“How about I attempt to make some? And we do some unpacking?”

There’s brief silence. But then her head is lifting from the cushions.

“Okay, but make your breakfast first.”

Link breaks out into a toothy grin, nodding at her suggestion. He watches curiously as her head drops back against the couch.

_______

It’s about 20 minutes later when he’s eaten and decides he’s happy with his attempt at tea. He walks over to the couch, proudly balancing two mugs, but it’s obvious that Amelia is drifting off to sleep.

He places a mug on the coffee table in front of her and the sound of it causes her to stir.

“Oh,” she sits up. “This looks….decent. Thank you.”

Link sits on the armchair across from her and watches as she takes her first sip.

“You’re allowed to say if it’s shit.”

Amelia exhales a laugh before setting the mug back down.

“It’s not bad, honestly. I’ll have to teach you my ways, though.”

She rests back against the cushions, and this time she shifts her body so that she’s more comfortably laying across the entire couch.

Link sighs.

And it’s like she hears what he’s thinking.

“Just a few minutes, then we’ll start unpacking,” but her voice is laced with sleep. She turns to him, her mouth twisting up in a familiar movement, and her eyebrows raising almost provocatively. “I didn’t get much sleep last night.”

“Ugh,” Link groans. “I do not need to hear about you and Mark-”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” she laughs a breath. “I had to.”

Link just shakes his head at her, not sure when he went from worried about her, to amused.

“I promise,” she adds, and the element of exhaustion is back in her tone. “Just 10 more minutes then I’ll be good to go.”

“Sure,” Link laughs.

Amelia still holds his gaze, and there’s an expression on her face that feels brand new to him.

There’s a hint of a smile. It’s barely there. But it’s different this time. It’s not the smirk he’s used to seeing, and it’s not in any way laced with mockery or self-doubt.

Link knows a few things.

But he learns a final thing by the end of the conversation. He learns that he’s going to do everything he can, to see the version of her smile that’s the most genuine.

//

[prettyricky187]

Sometimes You Don’t Feel Like A Winner

A/N: I was listening to Prom Queen by Catie Turner and it inspired this piece. I highly recommend listening to it while you read, at least for the first half. 

Couple: Spencer X Fem!Reader

Category: Angst/Fluff

Content Warnings: Self deprecating thoughts

Word Count: 4K

MASTERLIST

------------

“Thank God we had Morgan there, otherwise we’d probably still be stuck in the elevator.” It was such an offhand comment from Penelope, said in a joking manner and alluding to earlier when her, Derek, and Spencer found themselves trapped in the elevator. Derek had to pry the doors open to get the emergency system to kick in. 

Spencer knew she didn’t mean any offense by it, but he couldn’t stop replaying it in his head. He didn’t like how it implied that he wouldn’t have been able to get the job done. His thoughts spiraled down a rabbit hole, wondering about all the other times someone thought he wouldn’t be able to do something for one reason or another, but never said anything out loud.

He thought about the various comments from his team members over the years about his physical ineptitude. He was well aware of the fact that the only reason he was in the FBI was due to his brain, having to get waivers for all of the physical aspects of the academy. Even then he had heard the comments from fellow recruits. He always tried not to let them affect him, but he could only take so much. 

He and Derek were paired up a lot, and it didn’t take much to see the glaring differences between the two of them. Whenever they walked into a room or to a crime scene, people noticed Derek, whereas no one ever noticed him. Derek was smooth, muscular, active, and very much a kick down the door first and ask questions later type of guy, whereas Spencer just…wasn’t. He could barely talk to a woman without feeling like he was going to throw up, he didn’t think his noodle arms counted as muscle, and he much preferred to stay behind at the station whenever it came time to arrest an unsub. He wasn’t even like Hotch, with his tailored suits, matching socks, designer accessories, and stoic face that could wither a concrete wall. 

Did people want him to kick down doors? Wear matching socks? Get a Rolex? What did he have to do in order to stop the comments? 

If being more like Hotch and Morgan was what he needed to do to be taken seriously, then he would do it. 

The following morning Spencer grabbed the tailored ensemble that was a birthday gift from Rossi before hunting down a pair of matching socks. It wasn’t easy, and he felt weird putting them on, but he had to try. He pulled out his designer satchel and moved over his important papers. 

“You look like I do when I have to switch purses for a night out.” His girlfriend’s voice sounded off behind him. He looked over his shoulder to see her leaning against the door frame with a light smile on her face. One look at him and she got an inquisitive look, almost as if she was profiling him. 

“Is something wrong with your bag?” 

“No, I just felt like a change.” 

The noise she made gave away that she knew there was more to his actions, but she didn’t push it. “Do you think you’ll be home tonight?”

“I think so. Unless an urgent case comes up. I’ll let you know, okay?” She nodded as she watched him flit around the room in a manner that was very un-Spencer like. 

“Alright. Have a good day.” He smiled at her words, the first glimpse of her true boyfriend of the day. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” He gave her a kiss and was out the door, leaving behind a very confused (y/n). 

--- “Woah there pretty boy. Your socks match today.” Morgan commented, coming up behind Spencer in the kitchenette. When he first walked into the bullpen, he had been surprised to see the matching plain black socks as Spencer bent down to grab a file from the bottom drawer.

“Yeah, what of it?” Logically Spencer knew Morgan didn’t mean anything about his comment, but Penelope’s words were still swirling around in his head, so his response was more hostile than he intended. 

“I’m just not used to seeing it.” Morgan said slowly after a moment of silence, no doubt trying to profile the resident genius to figure out the cause of his attitude. “I thought you said it was bad luck?” He rose his eyebrows in questioning.

“I’m trying something new.” 

While it was apparent there was something bothering Spencer, Morgan knew better than to press him. He’d talk to him when he was ready. “Alright.” 

Everything that could have gone wrong went wrong and Spencer was over the whole day. He almost missed the morning train, he’d spilled coffee on his shirt, his shoelaces came undone and he almost faceplanted in the lobby. He realized around lunchtime that he’d forgotten his lunch at home, and when he was finally on his way home, he turned a corner right into a woman carrying a bag of groceries that ended up all over the sidewalk. Really, he just wanted to crawl under the covers and for the day to be over. 

He heaved a huge sigh of relief once he was safely inside his dark apartment. Everything was familiar and comfortable; nothing could hurt him in his own sanctuary, except maybe his own thoughts. Taking a deep breath, he dropped his bag and made his way towards the kitchen for some food before going to bed. 

Entering the bedroom and eyeing his sleeping girlfriend, Spencer felt a wave of insecure sadness flow through him so strong it almost knocked him over. She trusted him to protect her, and he knew he would fail if push came to shove. How could she possibly love him and want to be with him if he couldn’t even do the most basic thing for her?

Shaking his head sadly and trying not to cry, Spencer disrobed quietly and made his way to the bathroom in hopes that he could wash his terrible day down the drain. 

After his shower, he stood naked in front of the mirror and analyzed the reflection staring back at him. Never before had he really taken the time to look at himself beyond a quick pass to make sure his hair was tame and his tie wasn’t crooked. 

He didn’t like what he saw. 

“Jesus.” He muttered, pinching at his skin in various places. His limbs were disproportionately long, his sunken eyes created the appearance of two permanent black eyes, and he didn’t have a tan nor much body hair. Based on his research, backed by conversations overheard from JJ and Emily, body hair was something women found manly and attractive. He felt beyond inadequate. Mostly though, he looked at his arms and stomach and noted that neither had copious amounts of muscle on them.

He was an FBI agent for crying out loud, he should have some muscles. He shouldn’t have to rely on someone else to help him kick a door down or get out of an elevator. Frankly, he had never felt more pathetic than in that moment. At best, he felt like a professor; at worst he felt like a string bean with a gun. 

How was he to be trusted to protect his loved ones if he couldn’t even pass the FBI fitness test? Would he be able to protect his girlfriend if someone broke into their apartment? Would he always have to rely on someone else to keep him safe in the field? He was so absorbed in his self-deprecating thoughts that he didn’t notice the tired figure creeping up behind him.  

“Are you okay?” The startled yelp he let out was high pitched and he found himself comparing it to a more manly sound Morgan or Hotch would have let out. 

‘Great, I don’t even have manly scared sounds.’ He thought bitterly before locking his gaze on hers through the mirror. 

“I had a bad day.”

“I guessed that.” She nodded rubbing the sleep from her eyes. 

He felt bad waking her up, but he did feel better having her there. “How?” He really had tried to be quiet when he got home so he didn’t wake her up. “It could have to do with the fact that there are matching socks balled up next to the hamper.” The smile she gave him was playful, fully expecting a witty or snarky comeback. Instead, all she got was a sigh as his head dropped and his shoulders sagged. 

She frowned and stepped forward, wrapping her arms around his waist and burying her face against the skin of his back; the feeling of safety and home filling her veins. 

Spencer sighed again and grabbed onto her arms, anchoring himself to her and the moment. 

“What’s going on?” 

“Do you think I’m weak?” 

Whatever she had been expecting him to say, that wasn’t it. Her frown returned and she instinctively tightened her grip on him as if to shield him from his negative thoughts. “What?” 

He nodded, doubling down on his doubts. “Yeah, like…do you wish I had more muscles?” His eyes fell to his body, all his negative thoughts from before returning at once. “Do you think I’m too skinny?” 

“No. Too skinny for what?” She questioned, but he only shrugged. 

“When you look at me, do you think ‘federal agent?’ Am I too weak to be in the BAU?” He asked. She merely shook her head. He sighed, “Should I look more like Derek?” 

In all their years of dating, (y/n) had never heard a more ludicrous statement come from his mouth. Much less while comparing himself to Derek Morgan. She stepped in front of him and hoisted herself on the counter so that she was eye level with him. Locking her legs behind his, she pulled him flush against her, sensing how much he needed physical and emotional reassurance. 

“Spencer Reid, what on earth are you talking about?” 

Spencer tried not to let his heart race at the thought of her being disappointed in him for any reason. He never wanted to disappoint her; he just wasn’t sure he was fully capable of protecting her. He didn’t like the idea of her being hurt in any way, especially knowing he could’ve prevented it – if only he was stronger or ran faster.  

“Do you have things that you would change about me?” 

(Y/n) drew her head back as if she’d been burned by his words. The thought of changing anything about him was simply absurd. “Absolutely not!” Her tone was adamant, and it was clear that she meant every single bit of it; she loved him for exactly who he was.

“What about my quirks? Do you think they’re weird?” 

“What quirks?”

“I don’t wear matching socks.” He pointed out and she shrugged. 

“So?”

“Do you wish that I did?”

“You tried it today and your day sucked.” 

“You don’t have to remind me.” 

“Clearly, you’re not meant to wear them, and matching socks are overrated. Embrace it.” 

He merely pouted and shrugged. “But it’s weird.” 

She knew she wouldn’t be able to convince him otherwise at the moment, so she shifted topics. “Alright, what else?”

“What else what?”

“Whatever it is that has you feeling this way.” 

Spencer was quiet as he pondered saying what was bothering him; he wanted to be completely honest for both her sake and his own. 

“My hair.” 

She raked her eyes over his wet hair hanging haphazardly and sticking up or out in some parts, clearly in disarray from his quick towel drying. 

“What about it?” 

“It’s always messy.” 

“Probably doesn’t help that I love running my fingers through it. Even when you do comb it, I just make a mess of it again. I’ll gladly take partial responsibility for that.” 

“What about the fact that I ramble.” 

She shrugged as she absentmindedly stroked his hip. “I enjoy it.” She wasn’t just trying to make him feel better, she really did enjoy listening to him endlessly talk. She’d never admit it, but sometimes she purposely made him flustered just so he would start rambling like he does whenever he’s nervous. 

“You’re just saying that to make me feel better.” He frowned, but (y/n) shook her head.

“I’m saying it because it’s how I feel. When have I ever lied to you, even if it was only to spare your feelings?” 

He immediately thought back to when they first began dating and he had gone on an excited rant about the new season of Doctor Who. He could tell she was trying to follow along and nodding like she knew what he was talking about, but she hadn’t understood. He remembered Derek telling him how girls sometimes lie to guys on a date so that they seem interesting. He asked her thoughts on the show and she told him that she’d honestly never seen an episode and had absolutely no idea what he was talking about, but she was excited simply because he was excited. 

“Never.” 

“Alright then. So, believe me when I say that I do not mind your info-drops.” 

“What about all the other things I should have accomplished by now, but haven’t?” 

“Like what?”

“Having a family.” 

“Is that something you want?” The topic of children had come up, but always in a ‘someday’ capacity. She didn’t even know he was actively thinking about starting a family.

“Derek has Savannah and Hank and Hotch has Jack. I mean, I have you, but we’re not married, nor do we have any kids so it’s like…are we a societal failure?” 

“I’m going to pretend not to take offense to that.” 

He squirmed as she lightly pinched at his outer thigh. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it how it sounded.” He sighed sadly, not liking how his words weren’t coming out as he intended. “I just…”

“Not every couple has children or gets married, Spencer. Marriage or children doesn’t validate a relationship.” 

“Did you know that humans 75 million years ago mostly lived in isolation and only came together to mate? In 2013, a study came out that said that monogamy only came to be so that men could protect their infants and lower the risk of infanticide from competing males.” 

“Okay…” She wasn’t exactly sure where he was going with that information; she didn’t have an IQ of 187 so he needed to explain it for her.

“It means that the sole point of monogamy is children.” He exclaimed. 

“Well, first of all we’re not giant pandas who only come out of some hiding to get it on with each other. Secondly, we are not living in the Flintstone era where a man kills another man’s child simply to procreate with the mother and ensure his lineage. And finally, the one I take the most issue with, couples do not need to have children to be valid. There are plenty of childless couples who are perfectly happy with just the two of them. If that’s what our situation turns out to be, then that’s what it is. We aren’t failures as people or as a couple.” She explained. 

“You’d be a cute giant panda, though.” Spencer muttered after a moment. 

(Y/n) laughed and nodded in agreement. “So, would you.” 

“You know,” Spencer said suddenly, “I always thought I’d be in academia when I was a kid. I never pictured myself in the FBI.” 

While the idea of Spencer as a teacher or researcher wasn’t preposterous, his words still surprised her. She wondered if he’d still be happy in that role. 

“Really?” 

“Do I really scream law enforcement material to you?” He rose an eyebrow as if to say ‘really’ and she held her hands up to concede.

“Well I’ve only ever known you in the BAU, which is part of the FBI, which is considered law enforcement. So, to me, yes.” 

“I also thought I would have cured schizophrenia by now. Or at least been really close to a cure.” He said, “I feel like such a failure because I haven’t even gotten started on it.”

“Well, you’ve been busy saving the world in other ways.” She pointed out. 

“What if it’s not enough?” 

“Schizophrenia has been around for like…forever. It’s not solely your job to cure it; I don’t think anyone expects you to. It’s just you.”

“Actually, it’s only been around for 208 years. In 1809 both English physician John Haslam and French physician Phillippe Pinel wrote about English tea broker James Tilly Matthews. He is largely considered the first case of paranoid schizophrenia; except there wasn’t a term for it at the time. It wasn’t until the late 19th century that the term dementia praecox was used to describe someone who we now refer to as schizophrenic. There’s been some debate over who first used the term, some say Emil Kraepelin in 1896 while others say it was Arnold Pick in 1891. It wasn’t until Eugene Bleuler coined the term schizophrenia in 1908 because he believed that it wasn’t a dementia at all, but merely a separation of function between personality, thinking, memory, and perception.” 

Maybe someone else would’ve been stunned or turned off by the correction and lengthy explanation, but (y/n) listened happily as he laid out the history of schizophrenia, all while looking at him like he hung the stars and the moon in the sky. She knew it was a touchy subject for him, between his mother, being scared of presenting signs when he turned 30, and genetics he might pass down to any children, so they didn’t talk much about it. 

‘You realize you’re putting 200-”

“208.” Spencer quietly corrected and she smiled to herself. 

God, she loved him. 

“208 years of mental illness solely on your shoulders.” She finished. “You’re one man who can’t be expected to solve all the world’s problems. You have a genius brain, but you’re still human like the rest of us average folk. As much as it may pain you to hear, you can’t do everything.”

“I know that.” He protested, but sometimes she wasn’t so sure. She knew he forgot to take care of himself when he got too into his head, but she wouldn’t dwell on that at the moment. “I just, I wonder if I’m on the wrong track. You know?”

“I do. I think most people wonder that at various times in their life. Second guessing yourself is common, and while it can be worrying, it’s something we all can get through.”

“I never second guess myself. I’m always sure in what decisions I make.”

“Hate to break it to you bud, you’re currently doing exactly that, hence your tailspin.” 

He cracked a small smile at her words, but ultimately sighed. 

She noticed that he still looked off, like he had more that was bothering him. She knew it all wasn’t going to get solved with this bathroom talk, but she didn’t want him to go to sleep with these worries on his mind. “What else are you thinking about?” 

Spencer shook his head and shrugged his shoulders, resigned to the fact that he was just going to feel shitty about things for a while. “It doesn’t matter. It’s stupid anyways.” 

(Y/n) refused to accept that answer. “It’s not stupid. It matters to you, so I want to hear about it.” She said softly, playing with his fingers. 

“How am I supposed to keep you safe if I can’t even kick down a door?” His voice sounded so soft and scared. She wanted to wrap a blanket around him and lay underneath; shielding him from the world. 

“Who said I needed you to keep me safe?”

“It’s my job. That is literally in my job description, keep the public safe. You are part of that public.” He countered.

“How does being able to kick down a door correlate to keeping someone safe? Are you going to kick the intruder down?” The mental image was amusing to her, but she knew better than to laugh. 

“Did you know that yesterday I was stuck in an elevator with Garcia and Derek?” He began, bringing her attention back to the subject at hand. “He had to pry the doors open enough to trigger the emergency system so that help could arrive. You know what she said after it was all said and done? ‘Thank God we had Morgan there, otherwise we’d probably still be stuck in the elevator.’ Like, I would have been completely useless had he not been there. It did not make me feel good at all.” He said. While things regarding his mood seemed to click into place for her, (y/n) had so many questions. Where were their cell phones? How was Derek even able to pry open the doors? Did they hit the emergency stop button? 

All those things ran through her mind, but mostly she felt like she wanted to shake Penelope for her comment. She doubted there was any malicious intent behind it, and she knew Spencer knew that, too, but it clearly hurt his feelings and struck a sensitive nerve inside him. 

“It’s alright though,” he said cutting her thoughts short, “it doesn’t really matter.”

“What doesn’t?”

“Being liked. Who says we have to be liked? Why should I care if people like me? It’s all overrated.” Maybe if he said the words out loud he might believe them, but even she didn’t look convinced.

“Except that it isn’t and really, we all care. It’s part of human nature, you of all people should know this.” She said eyeing him.

When he didn’t say anything, (y/n) decided she wasn’t going to let him spiral into his self-deprecating thoughts any longer.

“Alright Spencer, listen to me.” (Y/n) sat up straight so he could see how serious her next statement was going to be. “I love you with my entire heart. That being said, I don’t need a knight in shining armor to swoop in and save me. So, you didn’t go into education, you still can if you want to. But you don’t have to just because you thought you would as a kid. Who cares if Derek and Hotch have children and you don’t? You’re not Derek Morgan or Aaron Hotchner. You’ve had an entirely different life and set of circumstances than they have. They couldn’t do half the things you can, and that’s okay. Who cares if you don’t wear matching socks or that Hotch probably wears a tailored suit to work every day?” 

“He does.” Spencer interrupted, but one look from (y/n) had him mumbling an apology. 

“The whole point is, you all have your own strengths, weaknesses, and something unique that you bring to the table. Your strength just happens to be in your brain, not your body. It doesn’t matter that you can’t kick down a door because you know they always say to work smarter not harder. Let Derek do the hard work and you do the smart work. There’s nothing wrong with that.” 

A beat of silence passed between them before Spencer smiled and let out a few hearty laughs. (Y/n) might’ve been put off by that at any other time, but she was just happy that he wasn’t frowning anymore. 

“You are…not great at making me feel better. But you tried, and I love you for it.” His smile then was the first genuine one of the day. 

Try as she might, motivational speeches were not her forte, but there was something endearing about how bad she was at it. 

“You’re just being a grump right now, so no matter what I say is going to make you feel better. When it’s all said and done, at the end of the day I love you, Spencer, for exactly who you are. I wouldn’t change a single thing about you. Even the things you might want to change about yourself.” 

Even when he didn’t feel like the shining star that she thought he was, she was there for him and would support and love him. 

“Thank you. I appreciate knowing that I always have you in my corner.” He smiled down on her and gave her a pert kiss on the nose, making them both smile. 

“You always will.” She agreed, mirroring his kiss. “Do you feel better?” 

“I do. You’ll never be a motivational speaker, but you did make me feel better.” He nods with a laugh. 

“I gave it a valiant effort. You want to go to bed?” She tilted her head in question. She knew her shortcomings and made no qualms about them. She knew Spencer loved her for who she was, just as she loved him for who he was. That was part of what made them so great together, at least in her mind.