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jazzthatonewriterchick · 10 months

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DRABBLE: YOU'RE THE CUTEST BIMBO HE'S EVER SEEN (18+) (MHA) (for Fem!Readers)

Writer's Note: Idk...I like the bimbo shit. I might make a fic with a bimbo!reader one of these days. Btw, some of these drabbles are meant for chubby/plus-sized readers, but I'll just put that as a note. Enjoy! -Jazz

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PRO!HITOSHI

*Note: Reader is Chubby

When he sees you for the first time, he is as intrigued as he is rock-hard the very moment he sees you in your little pink thong bikini.

He is down the shore with Denki after being forced to take a trip to get out of the sweltering, congested Tokyo heat for a while. Don’t get him wrong; a nice trip down the shore to get away from the villain activity and constant rush of the city is definitely a nice change of pace. But to walk around semi-naked people isn’t is idea of a relaxing vacation. It’s uncomfortable for him, walking around and seeing so many women with strings up their asses.

“You just need some company,” Denki said when Shinso voiced his concerns to his friend. “This place is swimming with plenty of pretty babes for the choosing, ‘Toshi! Who wouldn’t want to spend some time with the top underground hero in Japan?”

Though Denki's compliment works somewhat, Shinso isn’t concerned with meeting someone for a hookup. He isn’t even really interested in sex…until he meets you, at least.

While Denki is busy trying to flirt with some girls standing by a hot dog stand, Shinso slinks away into a nearby trinket store. His eyes roam over the seashell fridge magnets and snow globes with the fake snow replaced with sand. He thinks about which gift would be good for Eri, his little sister, until his eyes land on you.

There you stand a few feet away at a shelf of trinkets, standing on your tip toes with one of your chunky arms outstretched. You’re trying to reach for a pink seashell-shaped purse on the top shelf, and though you know damn well you can’t reach it, you still try.

Shinso is no longer interested in checking out the store items now that he’s got a look at you. You’re the best thing in here, from your plump little frame to the pink clothes you wear…if you can even call them clothes.

You’re really wearing just a mesh pink cover-up dress with a hot pink bikini underneath. The bikini top ties around your neck and back, exposing your rolls, while the bottoms are stuck in between your luscious, plump asscheeks that all Shinso wants to do is shove his face in. While he’s still uncomfortable seeing you in a thong, it's a different kind of discomfort now. He can feel his cock chub against his shorts, uncomfortably so.

“Excuse me?” It takes him a moment to realize you’re talking to him because of how dazed he is from your ass. You’ve turned around to face him now, showing your front, and dear fuck, does he wish you wouldn’t have. He can now see how the bikini top barely covers your big, juicy breasts and how your tummy bulges slightly over the string waist of your thong. Your lips, kissable and soft, shin in pink, glittery gloss and your cute little fingernails and toenails are coated in pink paint. Everything about you is pink.

He decides that the color fits you especially well when you open your mouth to speak again. “I'm so sorry,” you giggle sheepishly, giving him a smile that feels like a punch in the gut, “but could you help me reach that bag up there?” You point one chunky hand up towards the top shelf. “I’m just too short to reach.”

Shinso blushes at the sound of your voice, so sweet and innocent-sounding. He wonders how you’d sound moaning his name with his cock buried deep inside of you. “Uh, sure,” he replies, his voice sounding dry and gravely. He can barely breathe. You excitedly clap your hands, thanking him profusely for his help. “I was so sure I’d end up tripping over these,” you giggle, pointing down at your pink sandal wedges. What a pretty princess, you are.

“It’s whatever,” Shinso deadpans as he walks over to you. “Wouldn’t want nothin’ to happen to those shoes.” He glances down at them. “Steve Madden, huh?” he asks, loving it when you flush shyly at his observation. “I had some extra money,” you confess. “So I splurged. But they’re cute, right?!”

‘So, so cute,’ he thinks, but he isn’t referring to the shoes one bit. When he steps beside you to reach for the bag, he catches a whiff of your body spray. It is sweet and delectable, like whipped cream or sugar. God, could you get any cuter?

As if answering him, his cock throbs painfully in his shorts. He barely has to stand on his toes to reach the bag, causing you to cutely gasp at his height. “Wow!” you say, shocked. “You’re so tall! I’ve never met anyone as tall as you.”

Shinso chuckles when he grabs the bag and holds it out to you. “Well, now you have. And you’re welcome…” He trails off, wishing you’d take a hint and spill the space in with your name. He watches as you gulp and stare up at him with those big, doe-like eyes as you take the bag from him. When you do, your fingers brush against his, sending an electric shock through him as if Denki just used his quirk on him.

“T-Thank you,” you softly stutter. “And I’m Y/N. It’s very nice to meet you, Mr…” You trail off too, cutely puckering your lips. “No Mr,” Shinso chuckles. “Just Shinso. Or Hitoshi. Whichever you want.”

You tap one painted nail against your chin thoughtfully. “Hit-o-shi,” you carefully pronounce. Shinso has to suppress a groan at the sight of your soft lips forming his name.

“Can I call you ‘Toshi?” you ask, hope in your eyes. And something more. Mischief, it looks like. Hitoshi’s interest reaches its peak when he realizes that there is a whole other side to you than the cute, innocent persona he’s seeing right now.

He copies your move and thoughtfully taps his finger against his chin, earning a sweet giggle from you. “Only if I can call you princess,” he replies smoothly. “And maybe buy you somethin’ to eat? I’ll admit that I’m not too familiar with the boardwalk though.”

You look rather shy from the pet name, but you don’t let that stop you from conversing more with him. “Is it your first time here?” you ask, gasping when he nods. “Oh, you’re gonna have so much fun! They have the best funnel cakes and pizza here! I’ll tell you what, ‘Toshi: I’ll treat you to food for doing such a good deed and helping me get my bag. Deal?”

You reach your hand out for him, peering up at him through your thick, doll-like lashes. All Shinso wants to do is fuck you silly while you look at him like that, but instead, he takes your hand, smirking at the way you bite your lip. “It’s a deal, princess,” he huskily says.

SHIGIRAKI

There’s no way you don’t know what you’re doing to people. There’s just no way! Do you know what you’re doing to him?

These are the thoughts that run through Shiggy’s head when you step into the dimly-lit, crowded bar with Toga by your side.

The two of you giggle to each other, looking like the best of friends in your little sundresses and tiny purses that hang off of your wrists. The only difference between you and Toma is the combination of innocence and sexiness you seem to ooze.

Toga had said she was inviting a friend of hers to the annual bar hop adventures she, Shiggy, and half of the LOV always have at this exact bar. Dabi knows the guy so they get drinks half off and the cops aren’t called despite them being out and about in the city. He sits with Dabi, Mr. Compress, and Twice (who won’t shut the fuck up) now, a whiskey in his hand that he knows he’s going to need when you finally come up to greet him.

Shiggy was initially against Toga bringing a stranger into their activities. “What if she talks?” he hissed. “How can you be so sure she won’t blab to the police about us? How do you even know this girl?”

Toga barely gave him a glance as she poured herself some juice in their lair's kitchen. “She’s an old childhood friend of mine,” she explained. “And no, she’s not gonna talk because she hates cops and heroes. I promise you’ll love her! She’s got a wicked streak to her.”

When he sees you, he can’t tell what about you is so ‘wicked’. You look like the cutest package of candy in your short, pink sundress that barely covers your ass or your tits that jiggle enticingly. He doesn’t even think you’re wearing a bra. You paired the dress with some pink heels, a charm bracelet, and two high pigtails that he envisions yanking on while his cock is buried deep in your–

“Hey, guys!” Toga giggles when she finally makes it to the stools. Shiggy nearly jumps out of his skin, earning a low chuckle out of Dabi. “This is my friend, Y/N. The one from my childhood? I told you I was bringing her tonight, remember?” She gives you a toothy, excited grin, allowing you to introduce yourself further.

“Nice to meet you all,” you say in your sugary, sweet voice that washes over Shiggy. “I hope I’m not interrupting your night out, but Toga insisted I meet you all.” Twice is the first one to make an impression, hopping out of his seat to greet you. “Not at all!” he brightly chirps. “I’m Twice, by the way. This here is Dabi, Spinner, and Shiggy.”

Spinner gives you a nod while Dabi only glances and Shiggy glares at Twice. “Shigaraki,” he corrects his friend. Toga rolls her hazel eyes while you giggle to yourself. “Ignore him,” she sighs. "Come, sit right here with me! I’ll order us some drinks. Do you like those fruity ones?”

Eagerly, you nod, making you even cuter. You then turn to him, your big eyes stopping him short of breathing. “Um…is this seat taken?” you ask, pointing one red-painted nail at the empty stool.

To anyone else, he would’ve said something smart, but he can’t even muster words with how soft your lips look and the sweet smell of your perfume filling his senses. ‘What the fuck is wrong with you?’ he thinks to himself. He’s never had any woman make him feel this way before. He thought these kinds of feelings were long gone.

He nods, earning a blinding smile from you as you take a seat. As you do, the hem of your dress rides up, revealing a sliver of thigh that has Shiggy’s cock throbbing uncomfortably in his sweats. From his right side, Dabi leans in towards him. “You’d better snag that before someone else does, Shig,” he teasingly whispers. “That someone bein’ me.”

Shiggy glances at his friend, irked at his attempt at pushing his buttons. He knows Dabi also has a thing for innocence; especially ruining it. He turns to you, already finding you looking at him. “You listen to Nine Inch Nails?” you ask, quiet excitement in your voice. Shiggy blinks, confused as to what you mean, until you point at his band shirt. “I like them too! Have you ever been to one of their shoes?”

It takes Shiggy some time to process words, but he doesn’t keep you waiting or questioning yourself. “Uh, yeah,” he replies. “Two years ago. You listen to metal like that?” His eyes graze over your outfit and your body, picturing you without clothes. “‘Cause it doesn’t look like it.”

You giggle, adorably scrunching you nose. “It doesn’t,” you agree, “but yeah! I’m into a lot of hard metal and rock, but not too much screamo. That doesn’t keep me out of Hot Topic though.”

Shiggy smirks at your confession and nods down at his wrist. You look down, gasping at the spiked Hot Topic bracelet sitting there. “It’s like we’re one and the same,” you softly laugh, smiling at the bartender when he lowers your pretty, fruity drink down.

Shiggy watches you sip your drink, your gloss stain on the glass rim making him want to cum all over your mouth. “Are we really?” he asks, but not unkindly. He is actually very curious and interested in you. What is it about you that Toga likes?

He gets his answer when you turn to him, a mischievous, dark glint in your pretty eyes. Despite your cutesy appearance and pretty clothes, you now appear before him as someone else. Someone darker. “We could always find out,” you suggest, a slight purr in your voice. He doesn’t know if it’s an accident, but your knee slightly brushes his when you shift in your seat.

Those words are all Shiggy needs. After one too many drinks and the whole “getting to know you” shit, you find yourself underneath him in his bed, your legs up by your ears and your pretty, pink dress on his bedroom floor. Shuddery moans and grunts leave his lips every time he drives his cock into you again and again, his hands wrapped around your ankles. “Tell me how it feels,” he growls. “Tell me, slutty girl.”

You whine for him, your lipgloss smudged off of your lips and pretty breasts jiggling for him as he fucks you into the mattress. “It feels good!” you babble, your mascara smudged. “You feel so good, Shigaraki!”

“Tomura,” he grunts down to you. “Call me Tomura.” Realization clears in your dazed eyes and your pretty face splits into a smile before he swoops down to swirl his tongue with yours in a wet, open-mouthed kiss.

A sudden bang comes from above the wall above your head where the headboard bangs against it. “Could you two shut the fuck up?” Dabi yells. “I’m tryin’ to sleep off this whiskey.”

“Yeah!” Toga agrees. “I brought my friend tonight to get to know you, Shiggy, but not like this! You’ll ruin her!” A light giggle leaves your lips as Shiggy continues to rock his hips into your wet, tight walls. You lean up, your sticky lips at his ear. “I’m already ruined,” you whisper. “Can you ruin me more, Tomura?”

Shiggy didn’t need you to repeat. The entire night he spent ruining you over and over again, covering you in his cum until the dawn. Now he thinks you could be an extra good addition to the LOV crew.

PRO!BAKUGOU

*Note: Reader is Chubby

He could’ve blown his fucking load when Mina brings you along for mini golf one night.

It’s just an ordinary summer evening where he and the squad are playing mini golf and slurping down milkshakes before you show up. Initially, Bakugou is irked waiting for you and Mina to show up, hating when people are late. “Where the fuck are these two?” he huffs. “They’d better not be doin’ their hair or somethin’ ‘cause I’m gonna be pissed if they are.”

“You know how girls are, ‘Suki,” Kiri chuckles, watching Denki try to aim his ball at a hole surrounded by gnome and fairy statues. “Mina takes forever to do her makeup sometimes, but it’s all to look nice for us. I’d think her friend is doing the same thing.”

As if on cue, Sero announces their arrival from his seat. “Look!” he exclaims, a chocolate milkshake in his hand. “They’re here! And damn, does her friend look good.” Each boy turns to look at you and they can all agree. Especially Bakugou.

He can’t keep his eyes off of you as you strut up with Mina, arms hooked in one another’s. You’re wearing a low cut, white crop top with a push-up bra that make your breasts look immaculate and delicious and a tiny, pink tennis skirt that starts at the waistband of your pudgy stomach and stops right at the top of your thick, jiggly thighs. You paired this outfit with white Nike low tops and pink knee socks that make you look more innocent than the cute little smile on your face that gets wider the closer you get to him and the guys.

He can’t stop staring at you, especially when you get closer and he gets to drink in all of the other details to you––how short you are compared to him (you barely graze his chest!); the Fenty gloss on your plump lips; the tiny bow clip in your hair; the scent of fruit on your skin that makes him dizzy.

Are you fucking forreal? How are you going to show up like that as if it’s normal? Are you trying to tease him? Are you playing with him? Bakugou can’t help but be irrationally angry from how cute and sexy you are. How is it possible to be both cute and sexy? All he knows is that his dick knows the answer judging by how it’s pushing up against his briefs at the sight of you now.

Mina stops you right in front of him despite his raging hard-on. Just his fucking luck. “Fellas,” she says with a smile, “this is my friend, Y/N. We work together at my agency and she was just dying to meet you guys.”

You flush, becoming shy at Mina’s teasing. “C’mon, Mina,” you softly whine, bumping your hip with hers. God, what Bakugou wouldn’t give to feel those hips in his big hands! Would you let him? There’s no way you wouldn’t. Your short skirt says that you want his hands all over you.

“Oh, really?” Denki asks, raising a brow. He struts up to you, already putting on the charm. “Well, it’s a pleasure to meet you, Y/N,” he purrs, shaking your hand. “I’m Denki, by the way. You probably know me as Chargebolt.” He raises your hand to kiss it, but is stopped by Bakugou tossing a golf ball at his head. “Kill the flirting, perv,” he grumbles as Denki rubs his temple, glaring at him.

“Sorry about them,” Mina sighs, but you just giggle. Bakugou’s ears perk at the sound. “That’s Kirishima and Sero aka Red Riot and Cellophane.” Kiri gives you a friendly wave while Sero gives you a wink that Bakugou doesn’t particularly like either. “And Bakugou already made his grand introduction,” Mina sarcastically says.

You finally face him entirely and he sees your smile falter somewhat when your eyes land on his. Bakugou notices immediately. Do you not like what you see? Are you intimidated by him? He backs up to try and give you space, realizing how small you really are…small enough to break…small enough to toss around in a bedroom. His bedroom, preferably.

“Nice to meet all of you,” you sweetly say, though your eyes are still on him. “I'm exposing myself here, but I am a big fan of you guys! I’ve got all your posters and merch!” Everyone except Bakugou laughs at your cute little confession. “Oh, yeah?” Sero asks, raising a pierced brow. “So who’s your favorite hero, Y/N? It’s okay, you can tell us.”

He, Kiri and Denki look at you, interested despite your obvious shyness and discomfort. Even though Bakugou won’t admit it, even he is interested. Even so, he decides to come to your rescue, shocking every single one of his friends. “Ignore them,” he murmurs as he passes you a golf club. “You want next game or what?”

You stare up at him with those big eyes, looking shocked he’s even saying much to you. You wrap one hand around the golf club, giving him a look at your pink manicure. He can’t imagine how they’d look on his cock while you’re stroking it for him. “I would,” you say, “but I’m not much of a player. I wore the right outfit for it though!”

You swish your hips around in your pink skirt, making Bakugou’s cock even harder when he thinks he catches a glimpse of your inner thighs. “Show her, Katsuki!” Kiri shouts from the sidelines. “She is our guest, after all.” The redhead gives him a knowing wink which emits a growl from Bakugou.

“Whatever,” he huffs. Despite being pissed that his friends know he is whipped, he leads you over to one of the golf holes located up on a hill surrounded by wooden fans. You stand to the side, your tongue thoughtfully licking your bottom lip and giving him some awful thoughts about your mouth. “Am I doin’ it right?” you ask, even bending your knees though it’s still the incorrect form.

Bakugou nearly laughs at your cuteness. “Nah, but I’ll give you points for your eagerness. Want me to show you?” You peer at him from over your shoulder and nod. Without even realizing how this looks, he stands behind you, putting a good distance between his front and your back to avoid giving you a taste of his raging bulge.

“Stand with your hips square with your feet,” he explains, doing his best to not breathe in your shampoo. You do so before his hands cup yours over the golf club. “Take it back once, aim for the ball, and…” He helps you swing the club at the ball, your body twisting with his as you do. The ball goes soaring up the hill and into the hole, never missing.

From the sidelines, the gang applauded you. “I did it!” you excitedly shout, turning to him. “We did it!” You jump up and down, giving Bakugou a great view of your breasts jiggling and bouncing about. You’re not making this easy for him at all, especially with that pretty smile on your face. “And that’s why you’re my favorite,” you confess.

Bakugou scowls at you, confused. “Huh?”

You look down at your shoes, suddenly shy. “The guys asked me who my favorite hero was out of all of you,” you softly say. “And it’s you ‘cause you’re so sweet.” Bakugou’s brain short-circuits. Sweet. You think he's sweet! You, the sweetest little thing he’s ever met. Suddenly, the air between you changes to something more open and flirtatious. He wants to know everything about you now.

“Well,” he replies, a smirk on his lips, “maybe you can tell me more about how sweet I am over a milkshake?” You look up at him, excitement in your pretty eyes. “And over a phone call!” Denki calls from the sidelines. “Give her your number, dude!”

Bakugou swears if looks could kill, his friends would be dead by now. But he does, in fact, give you his number at the end of the night.

PRO!KIRI

*Note: Reader is Chubby

‘Mine.’

That’s all he can think when he sees you for the first time at the gym. As soon as he sees you in your tight, pink sports bra and shorts that cup your shapely, plump ass so nicely, it’s a fucking wrap for him. You pop up on the treadmill next to him and he immediately notices despite him jogging. So far, he’s at five miles. Another five to go.

He knows he can’t be distracted by anything that will ruin his workout, but so far, the distraction is winning. You glance at him and offer a smile that makes your little cheeks and baby face even cuter. The sight of you nearly knocks the air out of him. He manages to smile back at you, trying his best to not seem menacing with his sharp teeth, but you don’t seem too disarmed.

He then pretends to go back to what he’s doing (working out), but all the while, he pays attention to your every move. He watches as one of your chunky fingers presses the buttons on the treadmill, your fingernail pained a glittery pink.

Then you start walking along the moving conveyor belt, your high ponytail swishing behind you and reminding him of some very naughty things, like wrapping his fist in it while his cock is buried in the delectable pussy that he knows hides behind those shorts.

He’s admittedly never dated a woman of your size or shape before. Honestly, he hasn’t had too many girlfriends due to his demanding job as a pro hero. But looking at the way your breasts jiggle in your sports bra and your soft, chubby waist behind your shorts is making him think differently.

Not to mention how short you are. He’s got a thing for short girls. Maybe it’s because of the whole protection thing. He likes feeling tall and big enough to protect his girl from everyone and everything, you? You definitely fit the bill.

These thought scare him slightly. Why is he pining after a whole stranger in a gym and thinking that you’re his? He’s eyeing you down like you’re a piece of food and he’s starving for it. He immediately turns away and blushes as red as his hair. ‘This is so unmanly,’ he thinks, criticizing himself for his behavior.

But goddamn, are you too fine! Most of the men in here seem to think so too. He notices their eyes crawling across your body, stopping on your ass and boobs. He glances at you worriedly, wondering if you notice it too. But you’re too busy singing along to the music in your pink AirPods, your voice making him crack a smile. You’re just too cute!

He doesn’t make his move on the first day though. He waits for about a month before he actually says something to you. Every time he comes in on the weekends, he does so on the same day at the same time hoping to see you. And he does. You strut in wearing your short, tight gym attire with your J’Adore Dior duffle bag, your ponytail bouncing. You greet each other with smiles before he watches you get into your workout, paying close attention to the way your body moves and any gym rats who may want to bother you.

The day he actually makes a move isn’t one he planned on. It’s a Saturday morning and he’s busy with his cool-down stretches, pretending not to be looking at you in the mirror squatting with a kettlebell between your chunky hands. His eyes marvel at your body, wondering how you’d feel in an embrace or underneath him. Those thoughts quickly dissipate though when someone walks up to you.

He is buff and about the same height as Kiri with tattoos and a muscle tee. Immediately, Kiri switches into protection mode and strains to hear your convo. “Hey,” the guy greets you. You pause with your workout, lowering the kettlebell down. “Hi,” you sweetly greet, giving him a smile. Kiri bristles. Those smiles are meant for him only!

“I’m Trent,” the guy says, offering his hand for a shake. You take it, still the sweetheart. “Y/N,” you introduce yourself. Kiri notices that Trent’s hand lingers a bit more than necessary before it drops from yours. “That’s some outfit, y’know,” he chuckles, leaning against one of the machines as he attempts to put the charm on.

“Thanks!” you giggle. “I bought this week. I just love pink. It’s such a pretty color.” Trent nods, his eyes trailing lustfully over your body in your tight one-piece unitard and cropped hoodie that stops just above your sternum. You don’t notice but Kiri does. “You know, I could always help you with this workout,” Trent suggests. "Help you get deeper into those squats.”

You blink at him, obviously confused. “Are you a trainer?” you ask innocently. Kiri feels his cock stir. God, you’re just too cute! Trent smirks down at you. “I can be that and more,” he purrs. “Here, let me get you a mat!”

“O-oh, that’s okay,” you protest. “I-I’m not–“

But he’s already moving to get you a mat and bends down to put it under your feet, eyeing your thighs and calves as he does so. You look so, so uncomfortable.

'That’s it!’ Kiri thinks, irked to no end. He’s watched for long enough. He can't stop himself from rising to his feet and storming over to you and Trent, anger stirring within him.

When he stops near you, you’re the first one that sees him. He thinks he sees the corner of your lips twitch into a smile but he isn’t too sure. He stares down at Trent, crossing his arms over his broad chest. “I think she said she’s fine, Trent,” he firmly says, practically spitting the guy’s name. “You should listen to her.”

Trent pauses and glares up at Kiri. “What do you care?” he scoffs. “So I suddenly can’t be a nice guy?” Kiri glares back at him, his red eyes sharp. “We both know what you’re bein’ nice for,” he almost growls. “And I’m not about to sit by and watch you bother this girl just for some nookie. Leave her alone before I call security.” He eyes Trent down, daring him to fight this.

Trent stands, his jaw tight and eyes sharp. He glances at you before scoffing to himself and storming off, heading for the locker room. Once he’s gone, you sigh in relief. “Thank you,” you say with gratitude. “I have no idea why he wanted to give me a mat. I didn’t even need one!”

Kiri relaxes, but only slightly. You’re talking to him. You two are really talking! “Don't thank me,” he chuckles modestly. “Not that I don't think you can handle yourself, but I saw him tryin’ to spit game and you not enjoyin’ it too much, so I just had to step in.” He dares to look down at you and almost creams on the spot at the sight of your cleavage. “W-Well, I’m gonna go and let you–“

“I’m Y/N,” you instantly say, twirling the drawstring to your hoodie. You offer him a gloss-lipped smile that gives him butterflies. “Ejirou,” he replies. “Kiri for short.”

You giggle to yourself. “I know; other than you being Red Riot, I hear your name all the time here.” He blushes, sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck. “I’m a regular here. It’s one of the only gyms that are safer for pros like me.”

“Well, I’ll keep your secret,” you giggle, “but only if you agree for me to buy you lunch for your good deed.” From the way you slightly rub your thighs together and peer up at him through your lashes, he feels like you’re thinking of a lot more than just lunch. And he wants to know just what.

He smirks down at you, trying hard to ignore his dick chubbing in his basketball shorts. “Maybe,” he replies, playing along. “I think I’d need your number for that though. I mean, just to tell you what I like…for lunch.” He almost kicks himself. You giggle to yourself, already pulling your rose gold iPhone out of your pocket. “It’s a date then!” you chirp.

After leaving the gym with your number in his phone, he can’t help but nut to the thought of you while in his car minutes later, the vision of your pretty lips and body coated in his sticky cum making him fuck his fist a little harder.

Call him unmanly, but goddamn, he can't wait for the real thing!

DABI

When he first sees your cute little self in your mini skirt that barely covers your ass, he just wants to follow you around and scare anyone who dares to look at you the wrong way.

And that’s exactly what he does. ‘Cause what the fuck are you doing strutting around like that in this club? Don’t you know how you’re dressed?

You’re dressed like you want to get fucked. Though he can’t see you from the front, he can tell you’re wearing a halter top judging from the tie around your slender back. And no bra? Those titties must be bouncing everywhere!

As you can damn well tell, Dabi likes the innocent girls…or the girls who look innocent. Something about ruining them and bringing out that nasty, dark, devious side to them that he knows lies deep underneath their soft, pink, sweet personality. And you’re no different.

So he lies deep in the cut and watches you laugh and chat with people, blushing cutely when they compliment your clothes and being completely oblivious to the guys who stare you down like they want to eat you alive. He sips on his drink and eyes your legs, wondering how they’d feel wrapped around him.

It doesn’t take long for this little game to come to an end. You step outside for some air and he’s right behind you, but he doesn’t go out immediately. He watches as you lean against the wall and dig into your pink purse for your bubblegum. Finally, he comes outside, feeling blessed that he can finally get you alone.

You don't even flinch when he comes up to stand beside you, taking a box of cigarettes out of his back pocket. In fact, you give him a smile as you chew on your bubblegum, your pink lips forming an O for a big bubble. He imagines those lips forming an O when you moan while his tongue is buried deep in your cunt that lies beneath that skirt. From his angle, he can finally see the rest of your outfit––a glittery, pink halter top paired with platform boots and luscious, curly hair that makes you look like one of those early 2000s movie stars.

“Want some?” you ask, holding the box of gum out to him. His eyes flick from the box to your big, doe-like eyes rimmed with mascara to make them look almost like a doll’s. Like his pretty little doll. “You’re askin’ a stranger whether or not he wants your gum?” he asks, raising a curious brow at you before puffing on his cig.

You giggle adorably, almost ditzy-like. “You’re not a stranger, silly!” you protest. He blinks down at you, confused. “I saw you when I came into the club with my friend…and while you were following me around.”

Dabi blanches. Fuck, he’s been caught! How did you even notice? “Accept my apology,” he sighs, smoke billowing from his lips. “Couldn't help myself. You just look too damn cute to be in there not bein’ looked after.”

At this, you become shy and advert your eyes as a bashful smile adorns your pretty face. “You know, smoke is a bad habit,” you softly say. He nods, agreeing. “What’s your point?” he asks, paying close attention to your body language. He notices how tight your thighs are pressed together and the way your fingers fiddle with your skirt. You’re wanting something.

“Because…” Your eyes slowly trail back to his, now hooded and lustful. “Nicotine breath ruins kisses,” you purr. “And I’d really like a kiss from you. I have to thank you for watching my back in there, don’t you think?”

Dabi swears he’s never been harder in his life. He’s also have never ditched a cig that wasn’t a stub yet either, but the promise of finally getting your lips on his makes him toss the cig down and crunch it under his shoe.

Several minutes later, your glossy, soft lips are on his, the taste of strawberries in his mouth, while his cock is buried deep in your soft, wet pussy. Your hands are pressed against the wall as he grips your hips, your skirt hiked up and your lace panties pushed to the side to give him all the freedom to fuck you as he pleases. And he does so.

“You’re just like a doll,” he grunts into your ear, growing harder with every breathy moan that leaves your lips. “Are you my pretty baby doll tonight?”

All he gets is a broken moan of his name in response. He chuckles to himself as he lifts your leg up slightly and continues to fuck you silly behind the nightclub. He knew you had a devious side.

NATSUO

You were just the cute girl in his class that he couldn’t stop thinking about.

You would walk in wearing the cutest outfits known to man, all of them with pink tossed in. His favorite one was the cropped pink sweater and white skirt that swished around your legs and hiked up slightly in the back to give him a sneak peek of your thighs. That was the first day you two met. You had sat in front of him and rummaged around in your backpack, oblivious to Natsuo burning a hole in your back.

You sighed adorably and turned to him randomly, your glossy lips in an adorable pout that had his cock stirring in his jeans. “Hi,” you say with a smile. “Sorry to bug you, but I forgot my pen at home. Do you have one I can borrow?”

It took a minute for Natsuo to answer because he was too busy staring at your lips move, envisioning his dick between them. “U-Uh, yeah,” he finally replied, idiotically so. He dug into his backpack and handed you one of his best ink pens.

You happily smiled as you took the pen from him, your soft fingers grazing against his. “Thanks!” you chirped. “I promise I’ll give it back to you at the end of the day.” And you did. That is when your friendship began. He begins letting you borrow your pens while you send him notes from class if he’s too tired to pay attention and falls asleep during class, dreaming of himself bending you over one of the desks.

When you first asked him to help you study for your midterm exam, he can’t believe his luck. “You’re just so smart,” you whine as you two walk alongside each other in the hall. “I can’t afford to fail, so I need your help. Meet you at your dorms this weekend? I’ll bring snacks!”

He was helpless to refuse you, but the idea of being alone with you this weekend made him want to bust and hide under his bed at the same time. He didn’t have that much experience with girls, especially pretty, cute, adorable ones like you. He spends the whole day cleaning up his space and gargling down Listerine mouthwash before you arrive.

When you do, it’s at 5 PM after you get off your shift. You show up at his door in a pretty, baby pink dress carrying a bag of snacks and sodas. “Thanks for letting me come over,” you say after Natsuo invites you in and get you situated at the table in the middle of his dorm. “I just know I’m gonna pass with you as a tutor.”

He blushes at the compliment. How is it you’re so sweet? “S’cool,” he chuckles sheepishly. “I’m happy to help. Thank you for the snacks though.” He ogles at the all of the snacks you pour out of your bag––Pocky boxes; chips; cookies; biscuits. You embarrassingly giggle, picking at your pink nails. “I, uh…like snacks,” you shyly confess.

‘Oh, God,’ Natsuo laments in his head as his cock surges in his sweats. Why the fuck did he wear sweats?! Why the fuck are you so cute?! This is not going to be easy.

It doesn’t get any easier for him as the night goes on. He gets distracted at some points at the crumbs dusting the corner of your mouth or the way you swipe your gloss over your lips. He tries not to freak out when you lean in to point out words you’re having trouble remembering the definitions for, the scent of your birthday cake body wash and the feeling of your bosom against his forearm. Are you doing this on purpose?

Despite him explaining and breaking down the study guide for you, all he can think about is dirtying up your dress with his cum or plunging his cock in and out of the gushy walls of your pussy. It’s impossible not to. He’s practically sweating halfway during the session so he has to strip himself of his hoodie, revealing his blue tee underneath that stretches across his muscles.

When you finally finish the session, it’s around 7 PM and you’ve correctly remembered most of the guide. When Natsuo gives you an approving smile, you squeal and jump on him. “Thank you, thank you, thank you!” you cheer, wrapping your arms tight around him. He blushes, feeling your breasts pushing against his chest. “You’re such a good tutor! I’m gonna ace this exam because of you!”

Natsuo laughs at your cuteness, giving you a one-armed hug in respect to you. “It’s no problem,” he says. “It helps when you have such a great student.”

You pull away from him, peering up at him with those big eyes and that pretty face. “You know,” you say, your voice suddenly dipping an octave but still oh-so soft, “I’d hate to leave here and not repay you for such great work.” Your hands find his and you begin playing with his fingers, his cock stirring as you do. “Is there anyway you can think of, Natsuo?” you ask, batting your lashes prettily at him.

Oh, does he. And he knows you exactly what when he has you lying down in his bed with your dress hiked up on your hips where his hands are and his tongue finally fucking your pussy. “Fuck, Natsuo!” you whine, your hands in his snow-white hair. “Please!”

He moans as he pulls his tongue out of your wet hole and stares up at you. “Stop what, honey?” he asks, smiling at your blissful expression. “You wanted this, didn’t you? To repay me?”

His thumb finds your clit and begins slowly rubbing it, relishing the way you squirm for him. “Well, now you can.”

#bnha smut #smutty smut #18+#drabble #bnha drabble #deku x black!reader #my works #my drabbles #bimbo reader #bakugou x fem!reader #hitoshi x fem!reader #natsuo todoroki x fem!reader #dabi x fem!reader #kirishima x fem!reader #chubby reader #black writers #shigaraki x fem!reader

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rassicas · 1 year

Photo

Splatoon 3 artbook is coming! and they gave us hi res sample pages! so i translated them!

I’ve already preordered the book, and since I live in Japan I should be getting it very soon after release. mark my words I’m gonna go crazee translating it i need that Lore

In the meantime, some translations of the sample pages! take a look under the cut:

Page 44, IKIMONO (Living things)

yellow text: Among the living things in the Inkling world, a wide variety of species exist. There are creatures that can take on a humanoid form as well, called "Inklings" and "Octolings", the former being squids, and the latter being octopuses. white text in gray box: The old and the new mix to make the Splatland's youth culture The young people who grew up in Splatsville take pride in being born and raised in the Splatlands, and there is an extremely strong sense of solidarity in the community. They deeply cherish their old local culture, which is unsophisticated and simple, yet strong. At the same time, they like to make fun of urban areas such as Inkopolis for acting like they're "all that". On the other hand, many of them secretly yearn for that sophisticated, high-collar, Inkopolis culture. The current culture of chaos created by the youth with such a flip-flopping mentality is becoming increasingly global.

I’m going to translate these roughly. character select screen outfit, left: lines pointing to reflective goggles, a mask that blocks dust, and the cape. the cape is made from kelp, and is meant to block out sunlight. hero suit outfit, right: the “ultra light earpiece” is so light, it doesn’t even feel like you’re wearing it. The ink display is a digital screen. Boots are meant for rough terrain. Interestingly, agent 3 is holding a weapon called a “Hero Extinguisher.”

the gear on the left is called “hunting equipment”. The earpiece is based on an udon noodle. It’s small, but it has a deep sound (with bass i assume instead of sounding tinny?) Around the neck are cooling pads. The shirt is made from a seaweed fabric. apparently its wrapped around their upper body and kind of hurts to wear. you can see their underwear, but its the kind of underwear that’s supposed to be seen for Fashion. idk what its called but you guys know what im talking about. The ink tank is homemade. in the pouch of the backpack are snacks. to the right are very early concepts.

Page 62, Deep Cut concepts

It’s a lot of handwritten notes with a lot of pointing out what the drawing is, so I’m going to translate roughly.

bottom left is pointing out various things about frye’s head anatomy. small chin, forehead sticks out, thick neck, head curves like this and this etc. middle frye with the bit of green and red makeup is described as having a clown-like feel to it. tiny furthest right drawing is commenting on a specific nose shape concept as “bird-like.” she almost had the same nose as my main OCs what the

red arrows on the right: long arms, long thighs, squared shoulders are pretty. hand in the middle with black text: something like ‘if she has hands with ornamentation like this it makes her hands seem long’ bottom left: the little doodle of the face reads that her ‘mouth is kind of like this.’ the other text talks about how her eyebrows move asymmetrically, as having that kind of variety in the movement is key.

left: she’s saying something about sharks? apparently she was going to be associated with sharks with shiver being associated with eels instead. right: various sound effects. “looking around absentmindedly” “rocking back and forth” “dozing off.” on the bottom it shows her suddenly stiffening to attention.

left: in her left hand, it’s a sensu (japanese folding fan). in her right, its a harisen (the kind of folding fan used to smack people in slapstick routines) gonna be real here the text on the right is too cursivey i cant read it

shiver mask designs. neat stuff.

early design concept.

Page 198, Scorch Gorge

not a lot of text on this page, mostly images, have a look yourself. top right passage: A majestic canyon where the history of the Inkling world can be seen in the strata and rock formations. Many enjoy rock climbing here. There's a spawn point that was once used for ink battles that no-one has bothered to remove.

#splatoon 3 #splatoon #splatoon artbook #splatoon translations

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heartpascal · 1 year

Text

or is it loneliness?

▹— (eventual) spiderverse found family x platonic!reader

▹— summary: you need closure, and information. two visits kind of give you that.

▹— a/n: guys idk what im DOING. i have things planned for atsv but not how we’re gonna get there … rn im just yolo-ing. im not a big fan of this one but im gonna start writing the next one asap, which will hide fully be more found family-ish lmao arachnid is gonna start warming up to them all some day i swear

▹— warnings: angst, injuries, not good thoughts, dead parents, sensory issues, explosions, violence, fighting, blood?, damaged hearing for a good minute, peter b parker eating burgers deserves its own warning, food, mention of throwing up / nausea, insecurities about being good enough, refusing help, idk what else, if ive missed anything let me know!!!

▹— taglist: @rhymingtree (everything taglist) @justmare @uniquemonstrosity @lacunaanonymoused @erensbbg @dulceteris @noxxing @escherichiacolli @ray-rook @i-3at-kidz @miwagila @stoneforests (is it freedom’verse) — also i only tagged those who explicitly asked to be tagged!

MASTERLIST , part one

∘₊✧───── ───── ��──── ─────✧₊∘

You spend a long time sat on the edge of the open window, staring out at the traffic below after getting back from Spider Society HQ. There’s a tangible relief that comes with returning to your dimension, like a weight being removed, a tension that is finally released from where it had been pulled taut. Your shoulders feel just as heavy as they did when you left, but you try not to think about it. You try to be happy that you’re back.

While you wouldn’t say it aloud, and you hate to even have the thought, you don’t think anybody had noticed you were gone. But then again, who would? You have no reason to be so upset about such a thing.

Time slips by as you diligently sew up the tears in your suit, frowning as you hold it up once you’re finished. It looks nothing like it used to, but then again, neither do you. Things have changed, it only makes sense that your suit would, too. You wonder if travelling through alternate dimensions can alter your perception of things. You’d swear that your suit had been a different shade before you left, lighter, maybe, but you have nothing to compare it to.

At least now, this time, when you put on your suit there is evidence of damage that Gwen Stacy had caused. The stitching along your the material where she had tore into you is a tangible thing, physical, and you run your fingers across it as if it might disappear. It’s almost a relief, to be able to feel where she had caused you pain, as opposed to the invisible ache she had left within you after fighting her the first time around.

Alongside the scar raised on your body, the fight with Gwen had left you with a sort of paranoia. An uncertainty in the back of your mind that has you glancing over your shoulder, has you messing up simple manoeuvres as you panic, thinking you hear her voice.

It must have been your third day back from the HQ that you come to the conclusion that you have to visit Gwen Stacy in her prison.

The decision doesn’t come easily. It comes slowly, torturously so, a realisation that deafens you as you glare through squinted lenses at the city around you. You won’t be able to go on like this, getting yourself hurt in stupid ways all because you’re not certain that she’s back in her prison. You’re meant to be a hero, which means that messing up, despite whatever paranoia that lingers in the back of your head, is unacceptable. It has consequences.

Seeing her in the flesh will likely be the hardest thing you’ll ever do. Except, maybe, not killing her when you caught her in that other dimension. You keep your mind on the fact that she won’t be able to touch you, that she’ll be walled away, to reassure yourself that there is no risk of either of you hurting the other — at least, physically.

But seeing her isn’t the only difficult part.

No, the hardest part is stepping back into an identity that you had lost your grasp on, long ago. You wear your old clothes, clothes that you hadn’t put on in months, and try to remember how it felt to be you, rather than Arachnid.

“Hi, Mrs. Stacy.” You say, when the door to an all too familiar apartment opens just a slither, and you catch sight of her wrinkled eyes. There’s a noticeable change to them when she realises who you are, and she’s slamming the door shut, undoing the chain, and reopening it before you can say another word.

She whispers your name like she can’t believe it’s you — and you can’t blame her.

You had disappeared, months ago, after the death of your father. Going missing was far easier than being placed in a foster system that would only hold you back. It had been so much easier, not having to face anyone, not having to speak at his funeral.

“Hi.” You repeat, when her stare lingers in the silence for far too long. The sound of your voice once again breaks her out of her trance, and she’s rushing forward to pull you into her arms as if you were her child. You suppose, in some ways, it was quite a lot like that. At the very least, your presence will remind her of the daughter she had lost.

“Where have you been? Oh, honey, I was so worried.” Mrs. Stacy says, her voice trembling by your ear as she squeezes you tight, unfazed by your lack of reciprocation. “Come inside, please.”

You follow her through the doorway, closing the door behind you as you had done so many times before. Not looking around at the apartment is near impossible, but you’re not sure how much familiarity you can take. Even just seeing Mrs. Stacey’s aged face makes your chest ache, your legs feeling shaky.

“Sit down, honey, let me get you a warm drink.” She says, a tremor to her voice as she bustles towards the kitchen which is adjoined to the living room. The news plays on the television, and you’re glad to hear a weather report, rather than some city-wide attack. Mrs. Stacy is quiet as she goes through the process of making your favourite drink, but with your enhanced hearing you listen to the telltale clink of a spoon against ceramic. You listen closely to her hitched breathing as her footsteps pad back into the room. “Here.” She hands you the warm mug, and you don’t comment on the way her hand shakes.

“Thank you.” You say, though it feels stilted, wrong, too formal. It’s hard to be normal in this setting, to be whoever you used to be, especially as she stares at you like she’s seen a ghost.

Mrs. Stacy stares at you for a long while before she speaks again, as if she’s still not sure that you’re real. “Where have you been? After—After your dad… we didn’t know what happened to you. Are you safe? Do you need help?” She asks, frantic once she’s gotten started on her questions.

“Mrs. Stacy, I’m fine, really.” You lie, smiling tightly over the rim of the mug as you hold it towards your face. Before, you would’ve burnt your tongue drinking it too fast, but you’re hesitant to drink it at all. The last thing you want is to become too familiar to your old life. “I’ve been staying with some friends, downtown. It’s been good.”

She raises a brow at you, and stares for a moment longer. “Honey… you don’t look well.” She tells you, and raises the back of her hand to press it against your forehead. Her frown only deepens when you flinch away from the touch. You try not to curse yourself too much, but can’t help reprimanding the way you hadn’t anticipated such an action.

The skin on your forehead is clammy, but that’s just the anxiety, the nerves at being back here. Arachnid can’t get sick.

“Listen, I… I was hoping I could ask a favour from you.” You say, hesitantly, gripping the warm mug tight between your hands, but loosen your fingertips against the ceramic when you hear a minute crack.

Mrs. Stacy furrows her brows, looking more concerned by the second, but nods. “Of course, anything.” She tells you, and places one of her hands against yours on the mug.

“I was hoping I could visit Gwen.” You voice, after one last moment of hesitation. The way her face immediately crumples at the request doesn’t give you much hope, especially as her hand withdraws from your own. “I—I know you don’t get to see her very often, and maybe it’s selfish, but… I don’t know. I wanted some kind of closure, I guess.” You ramble on in response to her silence, glaring down at the liquid still swirling in your mug.

“Honey,” Mrs. Stacy interrupts, her voice soft in contrast to the way yours was growing in volume. You quiet immediately, your gaze drawn up to where her tearful eyes stare at you, her expression almost mourning. “I would never deny you that, but you should know… I haven’t visited Gwenny since she was put in there.” She admits, her stare dropping to her lap, almost ashamed.

“Oh,” You voice, softly, in response. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have assumed— I—I mean, I can’t even imagine—”

“No, don’t be silly, how would you have known?” She replies, raising her eyebrows at you strictly. “Now, I can get you that visit. I’ll call my attorney first thing tomorrow, but… really, honey, do you need me to call someone for you? Who are these friends?”

Her voice is familiar, and it’s kind, which makes it all the more painful. It’s strange, seeing the resemblance between her and the Green Goblin, and it makes a part of you ache. Your life wasn’t the only one torn apart by Gwen. In fact, her mother probably faced the worst of it. With her husband being long gone, her oldest son away at college, youngest withdrawn after her daughter became a homicidal maniac, who did she really have left? Who was looking after Helen Stacy?

You smile at her, as best as you can without tearing up, and reach out to grasp her hand, which she readily accepts. “I’m okay, Mrs. Stacy, I… It’s just a few friends of my dad, from his home town. Their kids, too. It’s better than being put in the system.” You tell her, and can only hope that she believes you. You have no way to back up these lies, knowing those friends of your father don’t exist.

“You could’ve stayed here, you know?” She says, teary and squeezing your hand so tightly you can hear your bones creaking. You smile sadly at her.

“You’re a much stronger person than me, Mrs. Stacy. I couldn’t even face my dad’s funeral, let alone be around the memories of somebody I lost. This place, it—it reminds me of her.” You explain, voice shaking as you hold back your own tears, swallowing them down and trying to breathe through the ache in your throat.

The way her heart breaks is almost loud enough for you to hear it, but she nods her head understandingly, regardless. “Of course,” She says, nodding still, “But know you always have a place here, okay?”

“Okay.” You respond, heart clenching so tightly you’re not sure it can pump your blood any longer.

“Now, what’s your number? Your old phone was disconnected.” She says, shaking her tears away to pull out a pad and pen from the coffee table. She sets the notepad against her knee, looking expectantly toward you.

“Oh, right,” You stutter, teeth chattering as you comb your mind for the number of your burner phone. “There was a mixup, because it was in my dad’s name.” You explain needlessly, still searching your mind for the answer. Finally, you remember it. You listen to her ballpoint pen scrape along the paper as she writes the numbers as you say them, and then she clicks the pen off after writing your name beside it, underlining it twice.

“How about I give you a call with the details of your visit, okay, honey?” She asks, nodding with a pleased hum at your affirmative. “Good. Stay for dinner, okay? I’ve missed you.”

Who are you to deny her that?

Though, even as you try to pretend that you help to set up the table for her benefit, and as you hug Gwen’s little brother tightly when he comes home for his, you know, deep down, that it’s for you. That this is a moment of selfishness that you’ll let yourself have, because god, you deserve it, don’t you?

∘₊✧───── ───── ───── ─────✧₊∘

It’s thirteen days post Spider Society discovery, and you’re starting to regret the way you discarded that watch so carelessly. Not because you want to be a part of some cult of superheroes, but because you wish you had asked some more questions.

Surely Miguel O’Hara must’ve known a way to stop these villains from appearing in other universes? And if he did, had he already implemented whatever it was to stop Gwen escaping again? How exactly did she escape the first time? Was it a coincidence? Is there somebody out there, working behind the scenes, helping her get out?

You, unfortunately, have no way to answer any of the burning questions nagging at the back of your head. While a part of you hopes that you never see any of the Spider Society weirdos again, you also desperately want answers. Especially if it meant you could call off your visit to Gwen Stacy.

But the day arrives as any other does, and you spend every moment before the drive over to the prison desperately hoping that one of the Spider-people will show their face. None of them do, and you’re left to get into Mrs. Stacy’s car and simply brace for the journey ahead.

You’re pretty sure that swinging would be quicker, or easier, but you had no way to explain that way of transport to an interrogating Mrs. Stacy, and so you had to relent to her insistence on driving you. Now, you sit here, shifting in the seat of the car, uncomfortable without your suit underneath the clothes you used to wear on a daily basis. Even the knowledge that it’s stuffed into the bottom of your tattered backpack in the boot of Mrs. Stacy’s car doesn’t bring you any comfort.

Instead, the rough material of an old jacket has your skin crawling like you were being bitten by a thousand mosquitos, and the trousers on your legs itch like you’re allergic to them.

You suppose, really, that the spider bite that gave you so many powers had to have more drawbacks than just destroying your life. It only makes sense that your heightened senses would extend to the receptors on your skin. It makes every movement in these clothes torturous, and you wonder if it had always been this way, or if you were just so unused to wearing your old style of clothes. Either way, you hope that you won’t have to wear them for much longer.

If it all goes to plan, you should be in and out of the prison, just ensuring that Gwen Stacy is actually in the cell as she’s supposed to be. Then you just have to endure the fifty minute drive back to the city with Mrs. Stacy, and you’re free. You won’t have to wear these clothes again, won’t have to use your name, no — you can just sink back into the half life that is being Arachnid. It’s better that way.

“Okay, honey, here we are.” Mrs. Stacy says at last, having shifted her car into park. She pointedly avoids looking at the looming high-security prison ahead, instead focusing on you as you wipe your sweaty palms against your trousers. “Now you take as much time as you need in there, alright? I’ll be just out here, if you need me.”

You smile tightly at her, nodding with what you hope is more of a grateful expression rather than a grimace. “Thank you, Mrs. Stacy, really. I appreciate it, more than you know.”

That much was true — after all, it wasn’t like you could tell her that she was allowing the vivid paranoia you had been experiencing to be put to rest after her daughter escaped to another universe. Mrs. Stacy, from what you could gather, didn’t even know that Gwen had been missing for any amount of time. She had no idea what Gwen had done, how many more people she had hurt, but you assured yourself that it was better that way. Mrs. Stacy already had to deal with plenty, and that knowledge surely wouldn’t help.

She was already dealing with her own grief and feelings on the situation, as well as trying to support her two sons in the matter. Given what Gwen’s little brother had asked of you when he found out about you visiting her, you knew that he hadn’t been to visit Gwen, either. It seemed that he wasn’t coping with it all very well.

“Of course, you’re family. You should know that by now.” She says, smiling with teary eyes, reaching across the console to grasp your hand tightly in her own.

Her words take a stab at your chest, especially considering what had happened to everybody else who had seen you as family. Dead parents, villainous best friend — it really didn’t bode well for your loved ones. You just reassured yourself with the fact that you’d be able to disappear as soon as the two of you returned to the city. You couldn’t put her in any danger, that way, or her remaining kids.

“I’ll—I’ll see you after, okay?” You respond, squeezing her hand in return before quickly letting go and throwing open the car door, getting out and catching a slither of Mrs. Stacy’s surprised reply before you shut the car door.

There are guards waiting for you at the gates, checking you are who you say you are, scanning you for weapons before you even get in the building. They’re satisfied after their searches, content that you weren’t stupid enough to bring a weapon into a highly secure prison. You keep your focus on your breathing as they walk you in, handing you clothes to change into as well as a box to put all of your belongings in.

The scrub-like clothes they give you are even worse than your own, sending shivers up and down your spine at the feeling of each fibre scraping against your skin. You just try to breathe through it. Luckily, the rest of the security checks blur by, which means less time spent on agonising over this visit. You barely hear a word of the statement they read to you before you go in, and your hand cramps as you write your signature against a dotted line of a waiver. All of the other legal things were sorted out by Mrs. Stacy’s lawyer, which you are more than thankful for.

Instead of having to deal with that, you just have to wait.

You think that the waiting might be the worst part of it all. With the scrubs making your hairs raise and promoting uncomfortable shivers up and down your body, as well as the cold metal seat that they sat you on, you’re far too aware of everything around you. You can hear the hundreds of heartbeats in the buildings, the beeping of security doors, the footsteps heading your way. You can smell the coffee that the head guard in the adjoining room to the one you’re in is drinking, as well as the day-old sandwich in his desk. Worst of all is the way your own heartbeat is thrumming in your throat, padding harshly against your chest, so loud in your own ears that it slowly starts to drown out everything around you.

Gwen’s footsteps are heavy, accompanied by the clinking of the chains she’s shackled in. You can practically hear the maniacal laughter that had come from her whilst in that alternate dimension, even though she’s completely silent as she enters the room.

She smiles at you when you look up, and for a moment you’re fooled — it’s soft, gentle, kind. But then you see the glimmer in her eyes that was distinctly not Gwen, and you feel the scar along your side throbbing with phantom pain.

You smile tensely at the guards, who regard you with looks of gentle concern and caution, before they attach her chains to a link on the floor beside a chair three metres away from where you sit. They nod at you, which you return, and you watch as they go and take their positions beside the door before you move your eyes back to the elephant in the room — which is Gwen Stacy.

“So, you missed me?” She asks, baring her teeth in a grin that has too much teeth to be anything friendly. Gwen regards you closely as you stare at her, watch for any signs of flickering, any signs that this isn’t real. Her brows raise slowly, the longer you’re silent, but you’re in no hurry to talk. “No? Is that not it?”

“Sure, I miss you.” You respond after another stretch of silence, tilting your head to study her more closely. You don’t acknowledge the way that your voice shakes as you speak, the way it comes out in something closer to a croak before you swallow harshly against your dry throat. “Thought I’d come to check in.” You add, brows furrowing to make sure she gets your true meaning.

“Ah,” She voices, then laughs, shoulders shaking, chains clanking loudly against her metal chair. “I get it, now.”

Gwen doesn’t add anything else after that, even though you suspected that she may take this opportunity to loudly claim that you were Arachnid, outing your identity once and for all. Apparently, if she does want to out your identity, she doesn’t want to do it like this, as she stays silent until you speak.

You sit forward on your chair, ignoring the way the guards at the edges of the room shift uneasily at your movement. “Your mom arranged this for me, you know?” You say, eyebrow raised. She probably knows what you’re doing, or what you’re trying to do, but she doesn’t voice it. Instead, she just shifts to lean backwards in her own chair, sighing as if relaxing.

“Hmm, so she can visit.” Gwen says, nodding her head as if it’s all making sense now.

“She can, she just doesn’t want to. Neither does Georgie.” You respond, and find satisfaction in the way her eyes flash at the mention of her little brother, the nickname that the two of you both used to call him. She recovers quickly, but you can tell that she knows it wasn’t quick enough. The Green Goblin cracked, right in front of your very eyes. It’s proof that, if anything, her little brother has some meaning. “He wanted me to tell you something.”

Her head tilts across from you, though she doesn’t move from her laid back position.

You clear your throat, and look at the words you’d written on your skin. She tilts her head forwards the slightest amount, and you shift uncomfortably in your seat, glancing at the guards who look just as uncomfortable as you feel. “He said that he misses his Gwenny, but he doesn’t want you coming home.” You stare at her as you repeat his message, the one he had told you nervously, as if he was truly afraid that Gwen would escape and come back. Her eyes twitch as she focuses on keeping her expression cool, but you know that the words have hit something in her, even if it’s part of the Green Goblin. “Looks like you even ruined your own family.”

You’re up on your feet as she lurches forwards, flung backward from where she tried to go against her chains to rush toward you. The guards are in front of you in mere moments, but you weren’t in any danger. Not as long as she stayed in here.

It’s almost satisfying, to see her chained up. It’s so different to seeing the Green Goblin on the outside, where she could be your Gwen Stacy. Whereas in here, bound by chains of heavy metal, clothed in uncomfortable looking prisoner scrubs, she was nothing but the Green Goblin. It was reassuring, almost, to be able to pick apart something physical between the two.

She bares her teeth at you, animalistic in a way that Gwen never was, and glares at you as you follow one of the guards out of the room, the others closing in on her, ready to take her back to whatever cell she came from.

The clothes you wear become less overbearing as you keep your focus on the guards taking Gwen away the whole way back through security, only switching back to your surroundings when they hand you the tray of your own belongings to change back into. You’re relieved for many reasons, and you try to focus on that feeling as you approach Mrs. Stacy’s car rather than the way your jacket itches.

Mrs. Stacy looks as if she wants to speak as you get in the car, as if she wants to ask about your visit, but she seemingly can’t bring herself to do it. You keep your mouth shut.

∘₊✧───── ───── ───── ─────✧₊∘

Not a month later, your daily activities are back to normal, uninhibited by the daunting idea of Gwen being free. Still, though, you think about her more often, as much as you did in the time after she was put away the first time.

Mrs. Stacy had tried to call you more than once since, and at the two week mark you’d had to invest in a new burner phone. You just couldn’t risk anybody getting a hold of it and seeing her contact, or the ringer going off and exposing your position in a fight. No, it was better for her not to have your number. Besides, you had hers memorised if you needed to call her.

It was better if you tried to reduce any connections to Gwen Stacy. You’d be much better off, the less you thought about her.

Despite knowing that, you couldn’t help it. And despite seeing that crack in the Green Goblin exterior at her little brother’s words, you didn’t have much hope for her. You don’t think they’d let her out of prison even if you could find a cure, somehow. The fact of it was that Gwen Stacy’s life was over. She had no hope of a future in this world, the Goblin had destroyed that. All you could do was remember her and hope beyond anything that in one of those alternate dimensions, you and Gwen were happy together.

The thought of it played on your mind every day, a lingering pain that stung at your eyes. You thought about it so much that you had even imagined the world where Gwen had never become the Goblin, where you and your Gwen were happy. It was a suffocating image, one without any hope of being true, but you couldn’t help thinking about it.

Even as you fought villain after villain, petty criminal after petty criminal, you thought about it. Even now, as you were swinging around a bridge, dodging all the debris this villain was throwing your way, it played on your mind.

It was a distraction, and it was one you needed to get rid of.

That much became certain as the villain you were facing, Tombstone, managed to get a hit on you, sending you flying across the bridge. You landed on a car with a groan, the windshield cracking below you, and you rolled your eyes as the person in the car held a hand on their horn until you managed to climb off, a distinct Arachnid-shaped dent left in the bonnet.

Well, that would be aching tomorrow, that much was for sure.

He grinned where he was stood across the bridge from you, showing off his filed teeth, as if trying to intimidate you with the pointy edges of them.

“You’ve been a formidable foe, Arachnid,” Tombstone says, his voice barely a whisper above the wind, but you can hear him perfectly. You suspect he knows as much, and that only makes you nervous. “But I think it’s time for our battle to come to an end.”

“I actually agree.” You respond, stretching your aching back and feeling a bone shift when it definitely shouldn’t. You can’t help but wince, gritting your teeth and glaring over at Tombstone across the bridge.

You’re getting tired of these villains, of their constant spiel about how the world should be, about how everything should be how they wanted it to be. What was so wrong with the human population that everybody couldn’t just get along? Surely, if everybody got along, listened to each other, the world’s problems would be solved. But then again, this is New York, and it’s a city in which greed is bred.

A light press against your webshooter has you slinging high up on the bridge, staring down at Tombstone as he watches you intently. You’re planning your next move, considering all the variables, when a burst of orange manifests into the air behind him. He looks confused as you falter in your web slinging, dropping slightly before you catch yourself, and he turns around just in time to receive a curled fist to the face, courtesy of a familiar man in a red and blue suit.

“You’ve gotta be kidding me.” You murmur, lowering yourself to the bridge to approach this Spiderman, glaring at where Tombstone stands, straining against a red barrier that had materialised from the device Spiderman had placed at his feet.

“I hate that guy!” The familiar voice of Peter B. Parker says, shaking his fist as he hops slightly from one foot to the other, his lenses squinted before he finally turns to acknowledge you. “That guy sucks.”

Your brows are furrowed, eyes squinted behind your lenses as you stare at Peter, confused. This Tombstone guy isn’t an anomaly, is he? While you hadn’t faced him before, you knew that there had been a battle between him and another vigilante down in Hell’s Kitchen. And he knew your name, hadn’t been calling you Spiderman like the last anomaly. So why was he here?

Peter sighed, as if he was disappointed to be met with your confusion. “You got a place, kid? Or a burger joint, maybe?”

With that same amount of confusion, you nodded, brows furrowed as cops came to collect Tombstone, who was still in a fit of rage. You can just barely hear him swearing to get you back, both of you, through the barrier. Peter gestured a hand forwards for you to lead the way, and with slight hesitation, you swung off with him following.

Now, the two of you are sat in a Shake Shack, despite you wanting to head back to the offices you were set up in. Peter had ordered two burgers, one for you and one for him, though you had decidedly rejected the one he pushed towards you. He had only shrugged, and accepted it onto his own plate.

“My wife’s pregnant, can’t even stand the smell of these.” Peter groans, stuffing what must’ve been at least a quarter of the burger in his mouth. You just nod at his statement, though you had to admit you were slightly surprised that this guy was going to be a dad. But then again, you’re pretty sure you can remember your dad scoffing down his favourite food in a similar way. “Now listen,” He continues, speaking with his mouthful and paying you no mind as you cringe at the sound. “Miguel wants to strike a sort of… deal with you.”

“Okay?” You respond, brows furrowed. You look around the place, uncomfortable with all the people staring at Arachnid in a booth beside an old man stuffing his face. The lenses of your mask squint with you as you look at Peter, waiting for him to add anything on to explain his statement. “Then why’d he send you?” You ask, at last, when Peter makes no move to speak of his own free will, too engrossed in his second burger.

Peter held up a finger, gulping down a sip of his strawberry milkshake. “Said something about this being good practice for me,” Peter eventually answers, flashing you a smile. “You know, being a new dad and all.”

He seems to realise quickly that that was the wrong thing to say as your eyes narrow further, visible only through the shift of your lenses. The last thing you need is some random guy trying to father you. Even just the idea of it irritates you, makes the very blood rushing in your veins feel hot with anger. You had a dad, and look what good that did you. He’s gone.

Not to mention the implication of you being a child! You’re far from being a kid. You’ve been looking after yourself for some time now just fine. Whatever deal Miguel wants to strike with you is because they need you. Not the other way around. You knew that you shouldn’t have let that Spider-doctor fix you up.

“I’m not some kid. I don’t need you lot, you need me. Don’t get it all twisted, Peter.” You respond as he continues to look like a deer in headlights, clearly kicking himself for revealing what Miguel had said. You keep your voice low, fighting to stay unheard with the quietened air in the diner. “Now hurry up and tell me about whatever bullshit deal you want to strike with me, so I can say no and we can go our separate ways.”

“Kid,” Peter sighs, before immediately wincing as he realised he just directly disregarded your statement about not being a kid. “Sorry, Arachnid,” He corrects, settling his hands on the table in front of him, finally taking a break from his almost-finished food. “Nobody’s saying you can’t do this.”

“Sounds like that’s exactly what you’re saying.” You mutter, averting your eyes from Peter and instead narrowing your lenses at the people still staring in your direction.

“All we’re saying is that you shouldn’t have to do this alone,” He continues, ignoring your interruption with nothing but a quirked brow. “It’s a tough job. Everybody needs someone to look out for them, you know? It’s in our nature to feel responsible for everything around us, as Spider-people. But you can’t carry the whole weight of the world on your shoulders, it’s too much!”

You stare blankly at him, remaining unimpressed with his whole speech.

Peter sighs once more, looking at you with hesitant hope that you’ll come around. Unfortunately, you’re not about to let these people think that you’re incapable. If anything, Peter’s little speech was just adding fuel to your fire. You liked proving people wrong — it’s what you thrived on. You needed to prove them wrong. Because if you didn’t, what did that make you? You couldn’t let people be right about their assumptions of you. If you couldn’t prove everybody wrong, then that meant some of the things people said about you were right. And with the amount of people who accused you of being responsible for more deaths than you saved, who portrayed you as a menace rather than a vigilante, who said you weren’t worthy of your powers, who said whatever divine intervention had given them to you was wrong, you couldn’t let them be right. You wouldn’t.

“I already told you people. I’m not interested.” You spit out at him, feeling your frustration brimming over the edge. Why would nobody just trust you? Was that so much to ask? You understand that you had made mistakes, that you had cost people their lives, but you were trying. Why couldn’t that just be enough?

Peter says nothing as you slide out of the booth, stomping your way out of the Shake Shack as if you were some kind of grumpy teenager. He could only hope that his unborn child was a less grumpy teen, but then again, he was pretty sure you had every right to be miserable. Correcting himself, he could only hope that his unborn child never experienced your reasons for being so miserable.

You make your way towards your office building, swinging through the streets whilst doing your best to keep your heightened hearing down. You really didn’t want to have to deal with anything else, tonight. All you wanted was to get back, to put on the only clothes other than your suit that didn’t make you want to crawl out of your skin. Even if it was just for an hour, you’d take it.

While you had gotten used to how quiet it was in the building a long time ago, you couldn’t help but think that tonight, it felt almost… eerie. There was something tingling, buzzing at the very base of your skull, but even as you strained your hearing, your sight, everything, you couldn’t detect anything out of place. Everything seemed normal, so you couldn’t understand why you were so on edge! It couldn’t just be Peter’s presence, surely, because he posed no threat to you. So what was going on?

Picking up your backpack filled with belongings, you stared around at the empty office, the breeze that flowed through the open window sending a shiver down your spine, even though you weren’t feeling cold. Something wasn’t right. You just couldn’t figure out what it was.

“Hello? Anybody there?” You call out, straining your hearing once more, trying to listen out for even the slightest sound. A movement, a breath, anything, even as you couldn’t help but think that this was the most cliché horror movie like moment that you had experienced to date. Still, you heard nothing, but that nagging feeling didn’t dissipate, and you quickly lost all desire to change out of your suit.

The unease you felt only grew stronger as you stood there, unsure what to make of the feeling. It was quickly growing towards being overwhelming, but you didn’t know what to do.

Luckily for you, you didn’t have to make a decision.

Unfortunately, the decision was made by one of the very people you were trying to prove yourself to.

Peter B. Parker — or at least, you were pretty sure it was him — swung through the very same window you had, only to grasp a hold on your arm and pull you out of the window as he jumped straight back out of it.

Now, you had been Arachnid for a long time now. You had gotten used to the swinging, to the way your stomach dipped and your throat tightened, but you had never experienced it where you weren’t the one in control. Finally, you understand why people you brought to safety had, on occasion, thrown up immediately after you set them down on their feet again. The feeling of falling, of having no choice but to trust somebody else to catch you, it was terrifying.

But what was infinitely more terrifying was the way that the very floor of the building you had just been stood on exploded.

The blaze was blinding, even with your lenses protecting your eyes, but the noise that came moments later was much, much worse. And sure, you had been around explosions before, but never one that big, never so close. And never so unprepared for one.

Your ears were ringing, and you vaguely realised that you had become dead weight in your shock, with Peter struggling to keep his grasp on your arm firm. After a moment, you had the sense to grab his forearm in return, trying to assist him in holding you up. He didn’t seem as effected by the explosion in comparison to you, and you wondered if he’d had the time to put earbuds in his ears as you had sometimes done before a fight. Either way, you were insanely envious as the pain in your ears increased, leaving you struggling to focus on holding on to Peter.

When he set you down, which couldn’t have been more than a minute after he had grabbed you, considering you could still see the office building smouldering, you had to hold a hand over your mouth even over your mask, trying to rid yourself of nausea. Smoke was leaking into the darkening sky, and you saw the flash of sirens below, but heard nothing other than the distinctive ringing that felt like it was melting your brain.

Peter’s hand was squeezing your shoulder, and after a moment in which you didn’t acknowledge him, he was gripping your other shoulder with his spare hand, shaking you the slightest bit. You looked up at him with a groan, squinting past the floating lights in your vision to see that his mouth was moving, no sound coming out. You shook your head, trying to get rid of that incessant ringing, but it didn’t work. You dropped your chin to your chest again, hands bracing against your ears as if they could ease your pain, and you didn’t make a move as Peter removed one hand from your shoulder.

Mere moments later, the same tingling you had felt before the building you were in exploded returned, stronger, more intensely. Your head snapped up, frantically looking around, paying Peter no mind as he spoke into the orange-glowing watch on his wrist. You breathed through your nose, trying not to cough at the smoke permeating the air, and you just managed to push Peter over the edge of the roof of the building, with you diving after him, as another explosive went off.

That explosion was smaller than the last one, and the only reason you had managed to avoid it was because you knew it was coming. You knew what the alarm bells in your head were trying to tell you now, and you spotted the projectile just seconds before it reached your feet.

Part of you was glad that your senses were dulled from the first explosion — your hearing, especially, as it meant you were less effected by the close-range on this one. You saw Peter’s eyes widen as he looked up above you at where the explosion had just occurred. You just about managed to web him before shooting a web towards the next building, feeling something in your shoulder pull sharply with his extra weight and the suddenness of the move.

You squinted down at him as he gripped the web attached to his chest with one hand, his lips moving more frantically as he spoke to a hologram projected by the watch on his other hand.

“Shit, what is going on?” You asked, though mostly to yourself, but the only way you could tell you had even voiced the words was by the way they rumbled out of your throat. That explosion had messed up your hearing, for the moment, anyway, and you quickly realised that with your slow healing and the ringing in your ears, this fight was going to be majorly difficult.

You only had a moment to think that, before something snapped the web that was holding you to the building, sending both you and Peter falling through the air. Embarrassingly, you’re pretty sure that you let out a yell of some sort.

All the air was knocked out of you the next second as something hurtled into you, sending you careening towards the windows of the closest building. Peter, for a moment, had a shocked expression on his face, before he seemingly realised what was going on, smiling and letting out a string of words that you didn’t hear. You groaned as your sore back collided with the window, smashing upon your impact, and you were sent sprawling over a desk, a monitor breaking underneath your sudden weight.

Yet again, there was a hand against your shoulder, and you paid it no mind as your head dropped back, thudding against the desk. You couldn’t help but groan, the duress that your back had been under today was certainly taking its toll, leaving your whole spine throbbing with pain. On top of that, you were struggling to catch your breath, and with the sudden adrenaline provided by the spider-sense fading, the intensity of the pain in your ears was increasing.

Finally, you managed to peel your eyes open to see a concerned Peter B. Parker looking at you, with Miguel O’Hara stood beside the shattered window, staring out menacingly, as if daring whoever it was to attack again. Peter said something else, squeezing your shoulder, and all you could do in response was hold up one thumb.

Miguel seemingly barked out an order over his shoulder, and a moment later, you were squinting against the bright orange light of a portal.

Peter was hauling you to your feet, leaning to hold one of your arms over his shoulder, practically carrying your weight towards the portal looming ahead. “No, no, wait,” You said, and you felt the way your words slurred as you became slightly delirious with a mixture of pain, adrenaline, and desperation. “Stop, I gotta—”

He only shook his head, before tipping the two of you forward until you both fell into the portal.

The dizzying feeling of inter-dimensional travel definitely didn’t help the pounding in your temples, nor the nausea you had previously been feeling, and you had no choice but to try and focus on Peter’s grip on you as you squeezed your eyes shut. When the world finally stopped spinning, or feeling like it was falling away around you, you opened your eyes just enough to take note of where you were — which was back in the Infirmary of the Spider Society HQ.

You shook Peter off, standing on your own weight and waving him away when he tried to assist you as you swayed once more. You glared, eyes narrowed, and turned to head straight back through the portal you had come from, only to see it close before your very eyes.

The same Spider-Doctor from the last time you were here snapped a band around your wrist, and you squinted down at the red and blue band. It made you feel lighter, even slightly, which felt good on your aching bones and muscles. You opened your mouth to speak as the Spider-Doctor led you to sit down on an empty bed with white sheets, but you vaguely saw the way his mask shifted as he presumably spoke. You couldn’t tell what he was saying with his mask on, but a minute later, you felt a sharp prick against the inside of your elbow.

You just about had the lucidity to murmur “You fucker—” before you succumbed to the weight of your eyelids.

∘₊✧───── ───── ───── ─────✧₊∘

When you woke up, it was to a throbbing pain in your forehead, that only got worse when you tried to open your eyes. At the very least, you were glad to have your hearing returned to you, albeit slightly muffled, which you were only aware of because the sound of voices across the room was the reason for you waking.

“I’m just saying, maybe knocking the kid out wasn’t the greatest idea!” Peter B. Parker’s annoyingly loud voice says, slightly high pitched in the end. Who he was saying it to, however, you couldn’t say, not without opening your eyes. And that didn’t feel like a good idea, the lights even with your eyes closed feeling like too much.

Instead, you just groan, bringing your hand up to rest over both of your eyes. “It wasn’t a great idea.” You say through gritted teeth, more than annoyed over the situation you found yourself in. Honestly, what did these people have against leaving you be? Why did they think they had any right to tell you what to do, or how to handle things, or to overrule you when it came to your own treatment?

“Hey, kid!” Peter responds, drawing the letters out in that typical oh shit voice. From the snippet of the conversation you had caught, at least he was seemingly trying to advocate for your consciousness. However, that didn’t change the fact that he was there when that Spider-Doctor knocked you out. No, you were still pissed. And when you got your hands on that doctor? He was in for it.

Any other thoughts or feelings on the matter were overturned when you realised that your hand was resting over your eyes, not the lenses of your mask.

Who do these people think they are?

You open your mouth to jump into a rant on that exact subject, on the audacity that they all have, but find yourself silenced by somebody grabbing onto your free wrist, and seemingly dropping your mask into your hand. You feel it until you’ve got it the right way around, and then pull it over your face.

The lights are much more bearable with your lenses back over your eyes, but it’s still painful, and still worsens that pounding in your head. But it does mean that you can see who’s around you; Peter, Miguel and the Spider-Doctor. You have half the mind to leap at that doctor, but Miguel is raising placating hands in your direction before you can make the move to do so.

“Let’s all calm down.” Miguel says, placing his hands on his hips when your eyes only narrow at him.

“What is wrong with you? Who gave you people the right to—to take off my mask? To knock me out? Hell, to come to my universe and get in my business!” You practically yell out, swinging your legs over the side of the bed, ignoring the way your back hurts with the movement and glaring when the three of them step forward to help you.

“If Peter hadn’t gotten there when he did, you would’ve died.” Miguel responds plainly, seemingly aggravated by your irritation. One of his arms is raised in a gesture towards the man, who smiles almost guiltily, as if helping you was a crime. Which, in your mindset, it might as well have been. “There was an anomaly, a villain from another dimension targeting you.”

“I can handle myself.” You spit out, though the way the room spins when you stand is almost a direct contrast to your words. Your blood is rushing through your veins, and you realise that there’s a machine beeping next to you, increasing in frequency. As you look, you realise it’s measuring your heart rate, and you yank wires off of you that you hadn’t even noticed before, as if they were exposing you somehow. “And that doesn’t give you the right to take off my mask. Who does that?”

Spider-Doctor raises his hands, as if surrendering, though seems unintimidated by the way your glare switches to him. “It was necessary. Your hearing was severely damaged by the explosion, you needed treatment. You have dampening-buds in your ears now, while your healing catches up.” While that sounds reasonable, it only makes you angrier. Why did these people even care if some anomaly killed you? If your hearing was damaged? Why did they insist on bothering you?

Miguel sighs, pinching his nose, before he lifts his head up to speak to you again. You just about stop yourself from making a snotty comment about his attitude. You didn't even want to be here, and here he was, acting like dealing with you was such an inconvenience to him. It was frustrating. “Your universe seems to be at some sort of epicentre of anomalies, and we don’t know why. Yet.”

“We’re just trying to keep you safe. You can’t deal with all of those anomalies alone, nobody can. Sometimes, you need a team.” Peter says softly, like he could convince you of the matter. “Believe me, you don’t want to learn that the hard way.” He adds on, smiling almost hesitantly, as if there’s a memory he’s thinking of connected to his own words.

You’re sighing through your nose, your teeth gritting together as you regard them. “Okay, fine, you want to come take out your anomalies, or whatever? You do that. But anything more than that isn’t welcome.” You say, at last, your eyes narrowed towards them as you wait for their responses.

You still don’t really understand it, any of it, but it’s becoming clear that you have no choice but to deal with these people. Apparently, they were not budging on all of this stuff, which — fine, so long as they stay out of your way. The last thing you need is a bunch of Spider-people stepping on your toes, or making you seem incapable in front of the citizens of your own dimension when in the end, they’ll all up and leave.

After all, you can remember your mother telling you how important it is to do things yourself. The moment you start accepting help, you relax, and when they decide they don’t want to help you anymore? You’re screwed, your sense of independence reduced to ashes. And as Arachnid, there’s far too much at stake to risk that happening.

“Here,” Miguel says, only nodding his agreement — or at least, that’s what you assume the nod was for. He throws a watch towards you, and you catch it with some confusion. “In case you see any anomalies before we do.” He explains as he watches you fiddle witht he watch in both hands, glaring down at it as if it was offensive. He’s relatively satisfied when you relax at that explanation. While Miguel doesn’t voice what else it’s for, knowing you’d only get irritated and refuse the watch, he’s silently hoping that you’ll understand. It’s so you can come to them, if you need them. They can only hope that they’ll be able to tell you that, one day, before it’s too late, without the offer scaring you off.

“So, I’m good to go?” You ask, looking between the three Spider-Men still staring at you and the watch you hesitantly clasp around your wrist. They nod, or, Peter and Miguel do, while the Spider-Doctor throws his hands in the air, exasperated.

“That dimension is yours,” Peter says, leaning over to see the screen of your watch. “The button at the bottom will input this dimension as the destination. Just press that,” He points to another button, “To open the portal to whichever dimension has been typed in.”

You nod, still pissed that he’d let the Spider-Doctor knock you out, but at least you didn’t give him a snarky comment. Instead, you just pressed the button to go back to your own dimension, and stepped through the portal the moment it was big enough for you to go through.

You didn’t expect for him to follow you through.

“Hey, listen,” Peter says, almost reluctantly, as if he doesn’t want to upset you. When you turn to him, he raises his hands, as if to further prove that sentiment. “I am sorry that he knocked you out, I didn’t know he was going to do that.”

“Okay, fine, apology accepted.” You say, flatly, turning to survey where exactly you are. It doesn’t take you long to notice the remains of the building you had been camping out in, the building charred and the air still thick with all the smoke that had been produced.

“I wasn’t done,” Peter sighs, pinching at the bridge of his nose momentarily. “I also wanted to say that I’m sorry about your building. And I wanted to ask, well, mention about how when Doctor-Peter took off your mask, he noticed you don’t have anything protecting your ears, like other Spiders with your level of enhanced hearing do.”

You turn to stare blankly at him, while mulling through where exactly you’re going to stay in your head. If you’re being honest, you’re not paying his words much mind. So what, you don’t have anything protecting your hearing? Sure, sometimes you had stuffed earbuds into your ears when you knew you were going into a rough fight, but you didn’t know when some psycho exploded your building right in front of you. Plus, it’s not like you have unlimited resources to figure out some way of protected your ears under your mask while also letting you effectively use your hearing.

“Okay? And?” You ask, voice edging on the side of boredom. In all honesty, you just want to be left alone. You want to put on your comfy clothes, curl up into a ball and go to sleep so you can dream of a world where everything is okay. The likelihood of that happening is small, but not impossible, right?

“Well,” Peter hesitates then, which piques your interest the slightest bit. “Here, I had these made back when my hearing was crazy sensitive, but it’s not anymore, so I got no use for them!” He says, holding out two blue and red earbuds in a clear case. “You gotta wait until your ears are healed up to use ‘em, but I figured they’d do you more good than me.”

For a moment, you’re ready to deny him. To glare and insist that you don’t need his help. But then, he had said that they were originally for him, and he didn’t need them any longer, so really, would it be so bad to take them? To accept this one thing? To allow yourself to be saved of this tiniest bit of pain?

“You’re sure?” You ask, likely the least aggressive you’d spoken to him, though that’s not to say that it was asked softly. You were still firm on not accepting their help, on doing your own thing, but you could accept this much, surely? It couldn’t hurt.

Peter smiles, a short laugh leaving him, and he waves the box towards you. “I’m sure!”

“…Thanks.” You say, shortly, as you accept the earbuds offered to you. He also hands you the backpack that you had lost track of after the attack, and you accept that far more quickly. You’re glad that it feels the exact same weight as it did the last time you held it, before you shove the earbuds into the opening and zip it back up.

There’s a portal still open on the rooftop the two of you stand on, and Peter backs up to go towards it almost reluctantly. “Also, if you need somewhere to stay—”

“Don’t push it,” You respond, quickly, cutting him off before he could finish what he was saying. He doesn’t take offence to your abruptness, and smiles with a nod, before he disappears into the portal. You stare out at the city around you, looking in the direction of another building you had been very reluctant to return to. “What is my life?” You ask yourself, rhetorically, because you don’t know how you’d even answer that.

You glance behind you to ensure the portal is closed, before jumping off the rooftop, freefalling, relishing in the way the cold wind soothes the pain in your back. Before long, though, you have to shoot a web to catch yourself. You head towards the only place you know will be suitable for you, but can’t shake the way the thought of it chills you.

All you can do is hope that this multiverse stuff will be over with, and soon.

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shidouryusm · 8 months

Note

Soooooo sami 👉👈 since we are both Hawks girlies we are in agreement that he has the most sensitive wings right? The kind that would quiver and tremble when he cums and if you touch them at any point he's just instantly hard... and if you grip them whilst jerking him off his hips will buck off the bed and he whines. Right???? 🫣

im so sorry it took me this long to finish it. i promise i intended to make them fuck but I got carried away into the plot iiufbiufhwjf. but you ask and i serve baby.

Hawks may be the one with wings but it was you who made him fly

Hawks x f!reader

synopsis: keigo arrives from a hellish day at work. as his sweet little girlfriend you find a way to relieve him

minors DNI. 18+ content.

word count: 2.4k (it was supposed to be a drabble...sigh)

content: hero au, established relationship, female anatomy!reader, switch!hawks,a little subby hawks but he switches at the end, handjobs, blowjobs, implied penetrative sex at the end, teasing, a bit of edging, titplay, playing with balls, cumeating, idk lmk what i missed.

a.n- well this was nasty and fun to write. this is my first time writing about him so do let me know how do you like it. not proofread well im v tired its 3 am :((

6:07 pm. The tokyo skyline has painted itself in the inkish blue, the little canvas of twilight already dwindling away while you stand in the middle of the balcony taking it all. you look up into the horizon, eyes hoping to catch a speck of red and yellow to appear that will sweep you out of your waiting game.

Keigo was supposed to arrive atleast 40 mins prior, considering he gets off of duty today relatively earlier than other days. Promising an evening reserved to enjoy the pacificity of being with you – away from the worldly issues.

He usually glides through the air, slowly landing on this very balcony, pressing a fleeting kiss on your lips even before his feet touches the ground and stumbles you both inside the house. According to him – it keeps things interesting. whatever he meant. you chuckle lightly thinking about that.

Your trance of thoughts almost missed out the door knob turning and instead of the grandeur entrance of your boyfriend like some flying peter parker he is, you watch him sluggishly drag his body in.

“to what do I owe such anticlimatic entrance, darling?”, you ask amusedly, walking inside the house to greet him which soon diffuses as you realise the dark shadows under his eyes and his face worn out by a hundred years. he looks beat up.

“baby?…”, you voice in worry.

Keigo looks at you, watching him with a hint of concern playing in your eyes. you look so cute like that, he thinks. eyebrows squinted together, head slightly tilted and lips jutted together in confusion on why he’s staring at you like that. your skin looking soft and as tempting to get a feel of, decorated with a purple satin loungewear.

Keigo takes a step forward, closing the distance. your hands reach his face, stroking from the little stubble in his chin to the swell of his cheek. he melts in your touch, his hands finding your waist and pulling you against his body. Keigo hides his face in your neck, his breath comes out in short huffs, tickling you in the crevice between your shoulder and head.

“It’s been heck of a day”, he mumbles. pity courses through you when you hear his strained voice. You comb through his slightly unruly locks, scratching the base of his scalp while he holds you flush against his body , letting a hum right against your skin.

“awe..made you work a little too hard, baby?” you coo. One hand still raking through his hair while the other snakes around his waist, going upwards till it brushes against the base of his red, bright feathers.

The feel of your hands against his feathers jolts keigo up, a small grunt leaving his lips, still pressed against your neck. your fingers trail over his back, ghosting over his feathers before you carress them again.

This time,a small, breathy moan escapes from keigo. his hands on your lower back pulls you in— as if you’re not already just a layer away from being inside his skin.

You smirk, his reactions turning the cogs in your mind to play with him a bit.

“are you sensitive there, keigo?” you asked amusedly, your finger circling the base, right where his feathers sprout out. his face is hidden against your neck but you could still make out the hint of redness that spreads over the nape.

Keigo pushes himself against you, the movement causing you to feel his clothed bulge rub against your naked thigh, you let out a soft sigh. you could make out the hardness of his cock even with the clothing.

His dick strains against you and what a good girlfriend like you would do in this situation—of course help him out in his little issue.

You pull him off of you, his eyes are drooping. you press a quick kiss on his lips before looping your arms around his neck.

You feel his eyes glide downwards, taking in your figure. A flimsy tank top hugs your upper body in the most alluring way possible, your nipples hardened and poking out of the fabric like two peaks, making Keigo’s cock jump in his pants. The matching shorts rides up your thighs, exposing the full expanse of the plush skin under his golden eyes. you look so comfortable…and delectable.

“should I help you out a little? you look like you could use some” you say, a little giggle passing through your lips. his eyes are still glued on your body and you take this opportunity to slightly tug the base of his feathers, bringing his attention back to you. Keigo hisses at the sensation, his face morphing into a temporary state of pleasure whenever your fingers come in contact with his supple feathers.

“Mhmmmm”, you hear him hum before his lips clash against yours. You stand there, in the middle of your hallway as keigo makes out with you, his lips languidly playing the push or pull with your lips.

His hand reach down the back of your thigh and he hooks your whole leg around his waist, the position allowing him to rub his cock directly against your core. You moan into the kiss. Wanting more. But most importantly, making him feel wanted even more.

You push him towards the bedroom, both of your linked bodies stumbling under the low lights of the hallway till you reach there.

His body is manhandled onto the mattress, your figure hovering over his, as you keep on planting kisses all over his face, reaching his jaw. your mouth tilts against his while your tongue presses flat on his skin, savouring his taste. Keigo grabs your hips, needing something to ground himself from the sudden dominance you’re showing – not that he’s complaining at all.

“fuck baby…you’re so hot like that”, his voice raspy and laced with yearn. You hum against his jawline, your hands tugging on the tight compression shirt he has, wanting them off his body.

He obliges. Your eyes drink the way his muscles taut while he pulls the fabric off himself and tosses it somewhere you could care any less about. Your hands lay against his pecks, as your mouth finds his once again. Keigo deepens the kiss, pushing his tongue inside the cavern of your mouth, a dribble of spit escaping from your shared mouth down your chin.

Your hands reaches towards his feathers and your hands softly massages the ends of it, making keigo moan in your mouth.

“fuck…this will make me-” keigo squirms a little, his mouth dancing more fiercely with yours. his hands squeezes your ass, making your clothed core grind in circular motions over his crotch, multiplying the sensation by tenfolds in Keigo's and your body.

“Cum? just by playing with your feathers? didn’t know you were that sensitive keigo.” you tug the ruffled plumage and Keigo almost bust a nut. his head falls backwards from the treatment and his hips inadvertently buck against your core. Your pussy lips are planted right over his dick and the way he thrusts himself upwards makes you pulsate.

You look at him majestically submitting to you, so bare and vulnerable. It stirs a different feeling inside you.

Top.2 hero for the world yet so weak in the knees for you. Wings so fierce yet so tamed under your touch.

“d-don’t get too ahead, you’ll regret it, darling” you hear keigo warn in between the kisses, his voice still broken and hoarse.

“oh really? sure.” you use both your hands in work. one tugs the feathers, a little rougher than previous times, while the other hand palms his cock, rubbing the palm of your hand against the head of his cock. Keigo moans unashamedly, having his sensitive feathers played like that.

“doesn’t look like it though” his little moans vibrates against your skin

That’s what you love about keigo. He may act tough and smug but will not be slightest bit of ashamed to vocalise his feelings during sex. Starting from little grunts to lewd moans – he drawls all of them. The little shake in his voice makes your pussy throb painfully, wanting nothing more than to sink yourself in him and drown yourself in pleasure while holding him tightly within.

Your hands trail upwards towards the belt of his pants, peeling them out of his skin. His cock is swollen, the veins roped around the shaft popping angrily, hard as it sprung up, slamming against his stomach. The sight already enough for you to gush your arousal on his lap.

you wrap your hands around his base, feeling his cock twitch upon the feel of your skin. Keigo tenses with the touch, exhaling audible breaths. His hands reach your shoulders, dropping the strap of the thin tank top.

He could see your tits slightly jiggle from the movements and his mouth wanted nothing more than to wrap itself around your pert buds.

You move your hands in rhythm – twisting and squeezing your hand in a way that he absolutely loves. A move that always gets him off. Your hands reaches the top of his shaft, his tip is angled beautifully, pre-cum falling of the slit endlessly. You run your thumb against the skin, pressing into the little slit.

Keigo hisses again, his hands reflexively grabs your hair and tugs it.

“F-fuck, don’t…”

you smirk at his reaction, smearing the pre-cum around the cockhead, reaching down the frenulum. while your hands work its wonders, his deft ones tugs your tank top down, releasing your tits from the confines. He kneads the soft mounds…pinching and rolling the nipples with his thick fingers.

The whole scene is lewd and pornographic – both of your hands working against each other to pleasure. Yours on his cock, stroking up and down in a steady rythm, occasionally squeezing the tip while his finds your tits to massage and jiggle it under his palm. Straight out of a sex tape.

You fondle his balls. It feels hot and heavy on your hands while you massage them. his muscle tenses, fighting every nerve to not spill his release yet. Stretching the seconds to imprint the feel of your hands. He reaches your shorts, his hands glides under them and reaching your cunt.

“You’re so wet, baby. Seeing me like this gets you off?” he uses two of his fingers to separate the lips, his middle finger stroking the slit of your pussy all the way to the bundled nerve. he flicks it with one hand, earning a whimper from you. Keigo might get tamed under you momentarily but he still has the power to keep you on your toes as well.

His hands on you feels like heaven but you had a mission to accomplish. You get off his lap, kneeling right in front of him. Resting your hands on his thighs, you sink your mouth in his cock — sending keigo on the brink of orgasm right then and there.

“Oh shit…baby wait…” you move your mouth, your tongue kitten licks the head and moves down. His hands rest on the sides of your head while you bob un and down on his cock.

“You’re so beautiful, baby. Look at your feathers all ruffled and disheveled. So so pretty.”

Keigo could feel his heart hammering at your words. He always thought his love for you had reached the threshold way above the earth but you just had to prove it wrong. Looking at you gazing him with the doe eyes, your hands working deft magic to play with him on the edge of release, you were indeed the one with wings. Wings from the above. A descendent of heaven tailored specifically for him.

“What a perfect little baby I got” he muses. You lay your tongue flat against his shaft, engulfing the whole length in your mouth, the ends of it reaching your throat. Your nose tickling with the untrimmed golden pubic hair decorating his pelvis. You tilt your mouth sideways, sucking more of him while your hands under plays with his balls. They twitch under your hands, begging for the release. You remove your mouth after licking the entirety of his length, his pre-cum smeared sheen on your lips. His wings flap and wraps around you. The sharp ends of the feather trailing the naked body of yours.

You smirk devilishly before grabbing a handful of his feathers, tugging it from the ends, sending a trail of shock right to his spine which gushed down between his legs.

Keigo watches you wink at him before licking your bottom lips to get a taste of his pre-cum. The sight breaking the straw that was holding him. With a final twitch, keigo cums. Strings of white rope decorates your palm while you work him through the release, occasionally licking his heavy cum from his opening.

Keigo feels lightheaded. His body still tingling from the sensation of your hands and mouth. He looks at you giggling, your eyes crinkled with amusement and satisfaction while you lick a handful of his cum off your hand. Fucking hell.

“do you feel better, babe?” you massage his thighs in hopes of taking care of him. He pulls you back into the bed. A quick kiss pressed against your lips — “well you did take a great care of me, I can’t deny. Certainly the best part about my day” his nose brushed against your cheek and you felt like your heart bloomed a batch of roses, specifically for him.

“Im glad I could be of help, darling” your hand rakes his hair and you kiss his cheek. You feel his hands wrap around your waist, gilding down to the dips of your hips.

“thank you so much baby. but…” Keigo turns you around in a split second, grabbing your hips to arch your back. Your ass hiked up in the air for him. His quick fingers tug the elastic of your shorts, peeling it off your skin, displaying your ass in full glory.

He grabs a handful in his hands, spreading them apart to peek at your pussy lips, slick with your arousal, the gaping hole contracting. waiting for its turn to fucking bust.

“wouldn’t it be a shame if I didn’t return the favour to you?” Keigo drags his length over the stripe of your pussy. pushing the tip inside slightly, drawing a moan from you.

It’s gonna be a long, fucking night.

a.n.2-> i just saw that he lives in a public security supply room LMAOAOAOAO more reasons for me to put him in a high rise penthouse where he fucks and lives to his heart’s content.

tagging @pastelle-rabbit because i promised her (here you go sweets), @stsgluver (my baby), if you want to be in my taglist hmu!!!

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lady-ashfade · 1 year

Text

Always

Miguel O'hara x Spider!Teen!Reader. (Platonic obv)

This is just something short a sweet for Father’s Day. Idk why I thought of it but I love it. Father’s Day celebration.

Warnings: Mention of parents death, parents being absent, short.

You step back and looked at the sight in front of you, a smile creeping it’s way to your lips. You knew this day was hard for Miguel and for you as well, but the two of you had each other and you knew it was the day to celebrate. It wasn’t anything big because you knew he didn’t like that kind of thing, but a few balloons and small presents with foods he likes and sweets did the trick.

Hope he likes it, you said to yourself as the weight came down of him being angry or hating what you had done. For years you were alone, learning almost everything on your own from your powers and to taking care for yourself. Your father died when you were little and your mother well, let’s just say she wasn’t in the picture often. So you were left alone when you were bitten by that spider and became a hero all on your own.

Until he showed up.

Miguel himself invited you on the teen and since then he had token you under his wing, he might have hated you at first but you clawed your way at his side. He missed the feeling of being happy and to have someone to look after and you replaced that hole in his chest and made him better. So he was your family and you knew you were his, it was perfect. So that’s why on this day you decided to celebrate him.

The door opened and you quickly turned around and watched the shadow walk through and it was non other than Miguel himself. A hand in front of his eyes and his shoulders fallen, you could tell he was tired. So standing up straight you smiled widely and waited for him to notice you and he didn’t take long. When he took notice of you and the things around you his body tensed and froze in his place.

“Happy Father’s Day.” You shouted and showed off the items behind you proudly. His eyes widen and a lump got caught in his throat at the words coming from your mouth. “Uh…” he lost his words and wondered what to do. His body was almost shaking and his mind running with thought. Did he deserve this? He wasn’t your father. Why did he feel so lightheaded?

You started to panic at his reaction and started to regret your actions but maybe you need to explain. Yeah, that was it. So clearing your throat you hyped yourself up for the job. “I know this might be strange and I’m seeing that now but I don’t regret it. I was alone until you came along and gave me a home, a family and took me under your wing. Thanks to you the people can call me their hero because of what you taught you.” You looked at him softly trying to show him how much he meant to you. “You’re like a parent to me, Miguel i wouldn’t have it any other way. But, if you want me to take this down and leave-”

You gasped as you were picked up and crushed into a hug and you smiled in relief. He held you close and patted your back and you could tell he needed something like this. “Love you too, kid.” He mumbled and held you tighter like if he left go you’d be lost. “Love you too, Miggy.” You teased the nickname to annoy him. He chuckled and settled you back down on the floor, “Thanks for being here.” You smiled up at him.

“Always.” He patted your head.

#miguel o'hara drabble #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara #Miguel O'hara fluff #miguel o'hara x gender neutral reader #into the spider verse x reader #into the spider verse

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poraphia · 6 months

Note

Maybe the soap opera drama has a tight grip on my braincells BUT

imagine siren with a love interest who keeps. Getting. Into. Bad. Relationships.

not BAD bad relationships, just— people that are kind of pricks. One guy accidentally leaves the door open and their cats escape (and he doesn’t give a single fuck, just keeps watching tv and when the reader comes home from work he’s like “oh yeah ur cats escaped a few hours ago”), another never shows up on dates, one is just an arrogant prick, the other is boring as hell and has nothing in common with the reader——

Just

that must STING for siren. Like—— he’s right there????? He’d never think that he would be ENTITLED to a relationship with the reader, NEVER— but why can’t he be your type??

10/10 angst for him id say

he can’t even convince himself that he would be BETTER for the reader because he’s a villain

idk

"i found your cat, not him."

➵ PAIRING! clinic!siren!wilbur x civilian!taken!reader

➵ CREATING! 12.17.23 | 3631 words

➵ CONTAINING! jealous wilbur, reader has a cat, reader has a bf, jester talking some sense into siren, heartbroken wilbur

➵ SAYING! this took some days to work on but look! it’s finally done! i had a lot of ups and downs and probably switched up the plot a couple times but here it is :D thank uuu @listenheresweaty for suggesting this honestly i was thinking about writing this the moment u suggested it and now i have free time so yippie. hope yall enjoy :D

My masterlist :)

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

(y/n) had a reputation to have a terrible taste in partners. Whether it be a girlfriend that refused to take them on a date and made (y/n) plan all of the dates out, or the boyfriend they had now, who “accidentally” left the door open, letting their cat escape. Wilbur watched from the window as the desperate (y/n) approached any passerby, showing a picture of their feline, just to have any sort of direction as to where it might be.

Wilbur wasn’t a hero of any sorts. The clothes on his back were purchased with money robbed from the bank down the street, and the laptop he was using to do his work on was stolen from some tech store in the mall. And don’t even get him started on his body count that could fill a graveyard. His powers were venom dripping from his tongue, and he was nothing but a snake.

So what made Wil get up from his seat to tap the shoulder of a helpless (y/n)?

Maybe because this person was an interest of Wil’s for quite some time now. From seeing them inside the coffee shop from time to time, to even catching the glimpse of the back of their head as they boarded the bus— It was like this person was meant to be in Wil’s life. Though he just never had the excuse to go up to them. So instead, for weeks now, he has been admiring this person from afar, seeking for some type of opportunity to spark up a conversation.

“Hey.. Are you alright?” He asked. (y/n) turned around, a little out of breath from quickly speaking to anyone who approached them.

“Y-Yeah— no! No..” She sighed, breathlessly. They slumped against a nearby wall, almost defeated. “I— I lost my cat. She’s this sweet white ragdoll with a pink collar and big black eyes. My boyfriend left the door open and she just snuck right out! He said the cat’s been gone for a while now and he didn’t even bother helping.” They trailed off. “I know she’s here somewhere.. I don’t know..” They buried their face into their hands, frustrated with themself.

Wilbur looked at them with a tilted head and puffed up cheeks. Despite this being a stranger, he couldn’t help but feel a panging guilt in his chest. “Hey,” He placed a hand on their shoulder. “I think I might be able to find her.”

“..You think so?” They responded in a meek voice.

“I’m sure..” He replied in a gentle tone. “I usually work like really late in the city. Maybe I could find her on my way home? Just give me some form of communication and a picture and I’m sure I can find her.” He smiled reassuringly. (y/n)’s head perked up, and suddenly their face was beaming with hope. It was a look Wilbur wished he could screenshot with his eyes and keep it in his mind gallery.

“Thank you! You don’t know how much this means to me.” They gleamed. “Hold on— Let me give you my phone number. What was your name again?”

Something about this question made Wil freeze up a little. This complete stranger, telling him that he’s a good person, is also asking for his name? I mean, it’s not like its the first time someone asked his name. But being asked in such a kind and polite way, it almost took him back to when he first met Phil.

He shook his head, snapping out of his thoughts.

“Wilbur,” He finally said. “Call me Wil.”

After exchanging contact information they parted their separate ways. Wil decided to pack up his stuff and head back home. He took the train to his neighborhood and spent the whole ride staring at this picture of (y/n) with their cat he learned was named “Anvil.”

The picture was a selfie taken by (y/n) with Anvil pressing her fluffy face against her owner’s soft skin. It was a cute sentiment captured by their phone camera, and Wilbur knew it was a treasured picture of theirs. He took the time to admire the cat’s features. It had a mess of white fur, and would definitely stick out like a sore thumb in the midnight dark. The train came to a halt as it had arrived to Wil’s destination. It didn’t take but a fifteen minute to arrive home.

Wilbur inserted the keys into the doorknob before pushing the door open. He kicked the door behind him closed as he placed his coat and shoes by the shoe cabinet and dresser.

“Hey, Wil,” Phil called from the kitchen.

“Hey, dad.” He shouted back. Wil threw his bag onto the couch before sliding against the sleek wooden floor to the entrance of the kitchen. Phil’s wings were loosely hanging behind him as the man stir fried some ingredients into a wok. “What’s for dinner?” Wil asked.

“Oh, just some fried rice.” Phil shrugged. “Whatcha do today? Hang out at the cafe?”

“Ah, yeah, pretty much.” Wil said, leaning against the fridge. “I, uh, met someone today.”

“Oh?” Phil said, raising an eyebrow. “Someone, you say?”

“What— Hey! It’s not like that..” Wil rolled his eyes while crossing his arms. However that wasn’t enough to convince Phil.

“Well if you say so.” Phil smirked. “So, what happened?”

Wil turned around and grabbed a glass from the cabinet before pouring himself a glass of ice cold water. He took a sip before speaking. “Well, there was this person and— I’m not quite sure what it was about them but.. They had lost their cat, and I felt really bad, so I offered to help them. They sounded so kind and stuff, but like— Apparently their cat ran away because their stupid boyfriend decided to leave the door open?! And he didn’t ever bother to help—!” Wil took a deep breath before bringing the glass back to his lips.

“—Oi, what are you bitching about?” As if on queue, Tommy emerged from the stairs. His hair was a ruffled his mess and he stumbled a little as he walked as if he had just woken up.

“Oh, Wil is just upset about someone he just met losing their cat—” Phil tried to explain, but Wil was quick to butt in.

“They didn’t lose their cat! It was their damn boyfriend!” He corrected. “Like, for hours he even knew the cat escaped and he just let it happen?!”

“Uh oh, looks like big Wil over here is catching feelings!” Tommy snickered as he wrapped an arm around Wil’s neck.

“Ugh, stop—” Wil pushed him away, but Tommy was persistent with his teasing.

“Little Wilbur has a crushy wushy and will find that cat and propose to them OoOoOo!” Tommy chirped.

“—Dad! Tommy’s being a bitch!” Wil cried as he struggled to escape Tommy’s grasp. After enough pushing, Wil was able to shove Tommy away before forcing Tommy into a headlock.

“Hey! Agh— Get off me you big bastard!” Tommy exclaimed. But Wilbur stood firm as he restricted Tom’s limbs by embracing him tightly.

“Both of you stop playing in the kitchen! Now, go get Techno because the food is ready.” Phil ordered, sternly.

Reluctantly, Wil released his grip from Tommy. Tom rubbed his arms and gave a big side-eye look to Wil.

“Bitch.” Tom muttered.

“Tommy! Go!” Phil ordered again, leaving Wilbur a snickering mess as Tom did his walk of shame toward the steps.

After dinner with the Soots (and some convincing to the family that Wilbur was not in love with this stranger he had just met), Wil dressed in his disguise and entered the night as Siren, a profound villain known in L’manburg city. His first task at hand was to find Anvil in Eastside.

He sauntered through the night with his hands in his pockets and his eyes lurking the streets. The night was cold and quiet with only the hum of the streetlights occupying his ears. But his only goal was to listen to the sweet meow of a cat lost and frigid. Every alleyway he came across he made sure to go through it thoroughly, making sure that the cat wasn’t stuck in a garbage can or in a cardboard box.

“Fuck, where is this cat..?” Siren muttered under his breath. He began whistling, making any noise imaginable to summon the feline. To no avail, no cats came running his way. Instead, a rather confused Jester jumped down from a building and right in front of Siren.

“What.. Are you doing?” Jester asked. Though he was wearing his mask, Siren could already tell he was furrowing his eyebrows.

Siren scoffed before continuing to walk. “I’m looking for a cat.” He replied. “But I can’t find her anywhere. I’m supposed to get her before the morning so I can return it to its owner.”

Jester followed behind him, his hands behind his back. “And this is important because..?”

“I-It’s important to me!” Siren retaliated, but if anything, it made him seen more desperate.

Jester sighed before shaking his head. “Don’t tell me you’re doing this just to impress someone.”

“I-I don’t know man.” Siren finally admitted, though he continued looking left and right in an attempt to find (y/n)’s cat.

“Siren, you know we can’t be doing this— y’know, trying to date and all of that. We’re villains. What do we do if they find out, and the whole syndicate is reported? Plus, you know how we are. We’re ‘evil.’” Jester made sure to put the last word into air quotes. “At least to society we are. We have to face the truth—”

Though Jester’s words were going one ear and out the other, some of them still stuck in Siren’s head. Sure, this wasn’t the first time Siren wanted to form a close bond with someone outside of the syndicate— I mean look at Tommy. He adjusted comfortably. But I guess this time it was different. This was a complete stranger that he met as a civilian, and now he was out as Siren looking for their cat! The more Siren thought about, the more he felt foolish.

Suddenly, a loud meow could be heard from an alleyway just to the left of Siren. Jester ceased his talking and looked at Siren, who was staring at Jester right back.

“Is that the—”

“Shhh..” Siren brought his finger to his lips to quiet down Jester. Slowly, Siren approached the alleyway with Jester steadily following behind him. Lo and behold was Anvil, perched on top of a cardboard box that sat right on top of a garbage can.

“How’re you going to get it?” Jester whispered.

“Just watch.” Siren cleared his throat. He picked up a spare cardboard box that was lying around and held it up near ground level for the cat to easily jump into. “Anvil, come and sit in this box.”

A moment of silence passes between the three of them as the cat laid comfortably in her seat, not planning to move anytime soon.

“Uh, was that supposed to do something?” Jester asked sarcastically. I furrowed my eyebrows in confusion.

“What the.. Anvil, come here now!” I demanded once again. As if taunting me, the cat simply licked her paws in response. Jester couldn’t help but to burst out laughing.

“Are you telling me your powers don’t work on cats?!” Jester gasped between laughs. “That’s fucking hilarious! Hopefully the Heroes won't find out about this one!”

“Shut up, dude!” Siren fussed at him. It took a bit for Jester to settle down his laughter with hands up out of protest.

“Sorry, sorry.. I just think it’s way too fucking funny.”

“Help me get this fucking cat, dude!” Siren exclaimed, clearly annoyed now. Siren turned around, now facing the cat again. He decided to kneel down to ground level with the box now on the floor.

Siren whistled to grab the feline’s attention. “C’mere, Anvil! Come here, buddy!” But the cat simply ignored the masked man.

“Hm, do you have a picture of the owner?” Jester asked.

“Oh, uh, yeah—” Siren took out his phone and tapped on a few things before pulling up the picture of (y/n) and Anvil. Siren looked at it one last time before showing the screen to Jester. He studied the face carefully, even grabbing the phone himself for him to examine.

Then with a simple head shake, Jester transformed his face into (y/n). It was an uncomfortable sight seeing their head on Jester’s body, but it definitely sparked the interest of Anvil.

“Come here, Anvil, come here!” Jester exclaimed as knelt down. Even his voice was near identical to (y/n). Obediently, the cat hopped off of the garbage can and into the arms of Jester, purring gingerly as she snuggled into his chest. I gave Jester an amused look as he smirked smugly.

“So, am I getting paid for this?” Jester asked as he carefully placed the feline into the box.

“To be fair, you volunteered to help. I didn’t ask.” Siren replied.

“Touche.”

Siren and Jester walked together until they were able to change into civilian clothes to avoid any conflict. It was important for Jester to maintain the face of (y/n) to keep the cat as calm as possible. Despite Siren knowing that it was just his friend and business associate under that form, he couldn’t help but stare at the face of (y/n). How their hair flowed as they walked and how their eyes glowed even under the moonlight. It felt too enchanting to even be real.

“Hey, you good bro?” Jester’s voice was the only thing to throw Siren out of his delusions.

“Yeah— yeah I’m fine.” Siren muttered, looking away. Jester rolled his eyes before sighing.

“Dude, what did I just say about getting attached to anyone?” Jester lectured once again.

“I— I know.” Siren replied defeatedly. “I know..”

“It’s dangerous for you, and whoever this—” Jester pointed as his own face. “—person you’re so infatuated with. It would be dangerous for not only you, but for them too. Imagine how much trouble they would be in knowing that they’re in relations with a supervillain.”

“I know, Jester!” Siren cried. The both of them stopped in their tracks. Even the cat laid still in it’s box. The midnight crickets filled the empty air between the two villains. “I get it— it’s too dangerous for me. It’s too dangerous for them. I’m evil. I’m going to put them in danger— I just— ugh!” Siren tilted his head back in frustration.

As he bit the inside of his cheek to hold back any bitter words he had the urge to say, Jester stood there and stared at him. It hurt even more seeing the person of interest saying these words to him. Jester quickly transformed back into his regular mask and placed a hand on Siren’s shoulder.

“Look man, I’m sorry..” Jester apologized. “I’m just worried about you, alright? Don’t want anything happening to you, especially what went down this past year.” Siren tilted his head back to look at him, and though his eyes were shielded, he could tell they were full of sincerity and reassurance.

“Yeah..” Siren voiced. “I guess I’m just tired. I don’t know. Let’s hurry home soon.”

“Alright.” Jester agreed.

The two were able to change out of their villain disguises in an abandoned warehouse without anyone noticing them. They then made their separate ways, leaving Wilbur and the cat in careful silence on walk home. Once Wil made it to the front door, he was careful in making up the steps to his room where he would keep the cat. Thankfully, he didn’t have to worry about disturbing anyone’s sleep considering that Phil and Techno were at a meeting and Tom could be quite the heavy sleeper.

Wil shut his bedroom door behind him and placed the cardboard box next to his closet. Though the cat was sound asleep now, he made sure to tuck in the feline with any spare blankets he had lying around before changing into his sleepwear and laying down in bed.

Wil pulled out his phone and texted (y/n).

Wilbur Hey, able to meet me at the cafe sometime tomorrow morning? I have you cat :)

Surprisingly, they responded.

(y/n) OMG really?! Thank you so much! I’ll see you tomorrow x

‘x’? Don’t those usually mean kisses? They probably just meant it in a friendly way. Or maybe they’re showing an interest in Wilbur? Nah, that can’t be possible. But what if? What if they’re interested in Wilbur?

Regardless of what (y/n) intended when they signed off with that little letter, Wilbur only slept a mere two hours.

The next day, Wil was ecstatic despite his lack of sleep. It was as if in a blink of eye he was in bed, but then the next moment he was scarfing down his breakfast and bolting out the door with Anvil’s box in his arms.

After all this time, he finally was able to do some sort of action to get (y/n)’s attention. To finally place himself in their field of view, and maybe, just maybe, they would have some sort of interest toward him. The thought made Wilbur’s heart flutter, making him feel like his body lifted which each step he took.

Wil had finally made it to the cafe, and right on time for that matter too. The building was just up-ahead. Wilbur took a deep breath, his chest pounding from adrenaline, anxiousness, and maybe a bit of excitement sprinkled in there as well. He looked down at the cat, who was previously buried in a sheet. She was now looking up at the man with big beady eyes staring right back at him. The charm to her collar clinked as it waved side to side.

“Okay, Anvil, I’m gonna return you to your owner now, alright? I-I’m sure she’s missing you.” Though he was just simply talking to a cat, this was (y/n)’s cat. And he was returning (y/n)’s cat! He was! Not some other kind stranger, not her family, not even her dirtbag boyfriend. It was Wilbur who would be returning this cat. Without him, Anvil wouldn’t be safe and sound in someone capable to protect a feline from the treacherous night.

With a proud smile, Wil approached the cafe with confidence radiating off his strides.

This was it, he thought.

This was it.

But was it?

He looked in the window to locate (y/n), but instead he found a sight more displeasing. the sight made his heart drop and his knees weak, but it took all his strength and awareness that he was holding a cat to keep himself steady. (y/n) was huddled up next to what seemed to be their incompetent boyfriend. Their head leaned against his shoulder, but the boyfriend did not return the affection. Instead he sat with his hands both placed on his phone, seemingly playing some idle shooting game to occupy his absent mind.

It took (y/n) noticing that Wil was at the window for Wilbur to break out of his mind. Their face beamed at the sight of their cat, and immediately they got up and rushed out of the door to greet him and her feline.

“Anvil, sweetheart!” They exclaimed. The cat immediately perked her head to face her owner before jumping out of the box and into (y/n)’s arms. Wil smiled contently at the sight, however his brain felt all kinds of fuzzy. As if he wasn’t really there.

“Thank you so much! You don’t know how much this means to me. Thank you, Wil, seriously!” Something about (y/n) saying his name made him wince. It felt like a hug before a stab in the chest. Regardless, he pushed through.

“Yeah, of course. I told you I would get her as soon as possible.” Wilbur said.

“You’re an actual lifesaver! I’m sorry if she put you through any trouble. Can I buy you a coffee or?” (y/n) offered. Though the offer was tempting, he didn’t feel comfortable spending another second seeing him and them together. Especially at such a close proximity.

“I-I’m fine,” Wil quickly muttered. “I have to go somewhere in a bit. I’ll catch you later, yeah?”

“Of course! Thank you again, truly.” (y/n) smiled. He simply nodded before turning and walking away.

Though Wil could argue that the man (y/n) calls their boyfriend is a prick, it’s not like he would be any better. Just like Jester said. That man could sit on his ass all day, not care for their cat, not care for them, and yet, he would still be the better option between him and Wilbur.

Wilbur is evil.

Wilbur is a villain.

Wilbur has killed countless living people compared to that prick killing digital npcs for fun.

Though, the argument stapled in Wil’s mind.

Wil found (y/n)’s cat. Not him.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

a / n ~ poor lil baby siren he just wants love :(( mayb ill do a part 2? i loved this concept ngl. notes of all kind are super duper appreciated :)) thank u for supporting my writing!

#wilbur soot #wilbur soot x reader #wilbur soot fanfiction #wilbur soot oneshots #wilbur x reader #wilbur soot x you #wilbur soot x y/n #clinic!wilbur #clinic!wilbur x reader #siren wilbur soot #siren #siren x reader #wilbur fanfiction #wilbur soot fluff #wilbur mcyt #wilbur hc #sleepy boys inc #poraphiafanfics

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uranometrias · 5 days

Text

don't forget to kiss me, jennifer jareau x fem! reader

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summary: in which jj has been into you for as long as she can remember. from your first day on the team she'd found herself utterly enraptured. she had partially assumed her adoration for you was merely a result of your personality, and the fact you were closest in age. seven years later, and she finds that her feelings towards you are a bit more complicated than she thought. which is why you being angry with her is even more gut-wrenching. pairing: jennifer jareau! x bau! female reader category: angst, unresolved content warnings: violence (reader smacks jj) love confessions. jj is kind of... self-destructively in love with you... you're disastrously oblivious + could potentially be unaware of your own feelings for jj. this is my first time writing for her, so fingers crossed her characterization lines up w/ canon. if not ? sue me :( author's note. this is my first time writing for jj, im so nervous about it. this can be read as an alternate universe for “you’re still a traitor” it picks up about a month or so after the court proceedings and reader has been ignoring jj , so she shows up at her house! idk why when writing for criminal minds, i always write jj with underlying feelings for reader… maybe because i actually like her a lot more than i initially thought (I’ve been a jj hater for years so this is a little jarring ) kinda spurred on by glue song xx unhappy ending, but room for a part 2

You hadn't been expecting any company, so when you heard a faint knock at the front door of your apartment, you were a bit confused. You were wearing a tank and boy-shorts, the weather in Quantico picking up to unbearable temperatures. It was impossible to focus with too many layers, and you supposed your choice in loungewear was a major sign that you were off duty. After the week you'd had, you'd become a bit of a recluse. Maybe "a bit" was underselling it.

You had wanted to be excited, happy, relieved even, that Emily was back. The team could be whole again, but your anxiety hadn't allowed you to. Instead, you'd found yourself feeling betrayed, angry, hurt. You lashed out at everyone, you didn't want to be bothered. You got to work earlier so that you could be the first to leave when evening came. When you were out on a case, you stayed glued to Rossi, Derek or Spencer. You couldn't meet the eye of the others.

Hotch, who had one point been your favorite person on the team, was now someone you avoided. There was some saying out there about 'never meeting your heroes', you felt that with this life changing reunion this quote had managed to sum up your life. You'd held him to such high regard, and had never expected him to lie to you. But he had, he'd done it without pause. And somehow he'd felt like the only person he needed to share this with was JJ.

That stung a little bit more. JJ was supposed to be your best friend. Even while she'd been gone, away working at the Pentagon, she'd been your rock. You couldn't count on your fingers and toes the amount of nights you'd spent crying your eyes out over the perceived loss while JJ combed her fingers through your hair and promised that 'everything would be alright.' In the grand scheme of things you assumed this eventual end was what she'd meant by that.

She had expected you to be okay. They had expected things to be normal, but they couldn't. After you'd been called into court to talk about the way things went down you'd become more of a ghost around the office. You had transfer papers hidden at your desk, and a ticking clock in the back of your mind. Maybe you were going overboard, being childish and stubborn, but you couldn't find it in you to care. How could you be on a team with people who lied.

After everything you'd seen, everything you'd been through together, they'd still chosen to lie. They'd kept you in the dark, because they thought they knew what was best for you. How were they any different from the higher ups that were constantly making decisions that put the entire team at risk? They weren't, and that's what sucked. You remembered when you'd confronted them with your feelings, they'd tried to pacify you with reminders of Emily's safety.

Somehow the fact that in their heads your grief was of little concern in comparison to Emily hurt the worst. You couldn't seem to understand the secrecy... especially since in the end, Emily wouldn't have managed to take down Doyle for good without you all. It felt like a waste of time, and when you'd placed your paperwork for a leave of absence on Hotch's desk, he hadn't had the guts to say anything. No one had said a word, they'd let you leave.

If it had been anyone else the calvary would've been out, but here you were on day ten of the longest break you'd had since you'd joined the bureau, and the only thing you had that proved you were missed were your unopened text messages from Penelope and Spencer. Penelope had been relaying messages for both her and Derek. Spencer had made you promise not to quit without saying goodbye. You knew how important it was to him, so if it came down to it, you'd give him that.

Still, your unwelcomed guest has grown impatient. They tap against your door a bit more impatiently, and you're climbing off your couch. Your slippers squeak with every step, and it's a bit funny, lightens your mood just barely. This hardly lasts, because the second you're swinging the door open your mood is dropping. Jennifer Jareau stands before you, looking more worse for wear than you'd seen her. She looks relieved when your eyes connect, you suddenly feel faint.

"Y/N." she always has this way of saying your name, like she's learning how to breathe for the first time, and before it was a symbol of your bond. "I'm sorry to show up like this, I didn't think you'd answer if I tried to call you." she admits, and you don't know how you look. You can't tell if she's receiving a bitter glare or something of the sort. All you know is how you feel. You feel like you're suffocating, like it's suddenly too hot. You feel like your clothes are too tight.

JJ is the one doing this to you. You're certain that's why you take a step backwards. She hasn't been at the profiling game long enough to mask the way you'd outrightly rejected her. "Why are you here?" you demand, and she crinkles her nose, almost like she's trying to keep from sneezing or something along the same lines. She honestly hadn't thought much of what she'd say. It had been almost two weeks since anyone had seen you, and she was going crazy.

"I just-" she exhales shakily, and you're about two seconds away from slamming the door in her face. "I wanted to see you." she admits, and you're unfazed, and visibly unimpressed. She'd waited almost two weeks, you were happy her guilt was eating her up. "No one's heard anything from you.... I just wanted to make sure that you were alright." she adds, and you take note of how she shuffles from foot to foot, nervous eyes jumping from one side of your face to the other.

She looks so unlike herself, not quite as bold and confident as you were used to. It's off putting, more than that though, it's a little suspicious all things considered.

"I'm fine." you insist, and you don't try to take some of the sharpness from your words. JJ's blue eyes are swimming with more emotions than you care to count in the moment. They're glassy, surrounded in dark circles and bags, she hadn't been sleeping. You hoped that wasn't on account of you, because in your current position you couldn't afford to be moved by her guilt. "And that could've been a text." you admit, and JJ winces. The drive from her place to yours was well over thirty minutes. She'd wasted her time.

"Are you going to hate me forever?" she asks, and you're at least offered the peace that comes with not finding anger in her tone. You were happy that at least she wouldn't be trying to make you feel bad for being angry. You don't know how to respond, because you honestly didn't know. You didn't know why you were so torn up about this, but you were. You couldn't look at her and pretend everything was okay, you couldn't go back to how things were before.

"Maybe." you mumble under your breath, and JJ looks so crushed. That manages to tug at your heart strings, you'd always been weak.

JJ's suddenly shuffling, digging through her bag. "Is that why you never said anything?" she asks, and she's holding your completed transfer application out towards you. It takes a moment for it to register, and you want to cower behind your door. Her gaze is so sharp, so crystalline like she was looking right through you. "Y/N..." and she says your name like she's the one who's been betrayed.

"You went through my stuff?" you counter, veering the subject off of your decision, and putting the focus back on her. "Bad way to go about regaining trust there, Jennifer." you say, and she flinches. You'd known one another for years, and you'd never called her Jennifer. You'd been calling her Jaige since you first became friends, what she wouldn't give to hear you call her that now. "I don't owe you an explanation." you add crossly, snatching the paperwork from her.

"Maybe not, but you owe it to Hotch." she argues like the know-it-all and little kiss ass that she's always been. "You owe it to the rest of the team." she adds a bit more gruffly, and you want to laugh at the hypocrisy. "You can't just spring this on them blind. If you're gonna run away at least have the guts to own up to it." she lectures, and you want to hit her, maybe grab her by her throat and shake her from side to side. "Instead of hiding out in your house like a child."

She gasps when you hit her, you think that you gasp too. You can't tell though, not with all the blood rushing to your head. You feel like your ears are clogged, and your eyes are wide, surprised at yourself. JJ's head is cocked to the side, cheek reddening as she gingerly clutches it. "JJ." and she supposes it's sort of a win. You weren't calling her Jennifer or Agent Jareau anymore. But her face stings, and it's starting to throb, and she thinks that she may burst into tears.

"It's okay." she says, because it kind of is. She was stupid in that way, willing to do whatever it took to get you back. Even at her own self destruction, and she supposed that's why she'd waited almost fourteen days to come see you. "Y/N/N, hey, it's okay..." she promises, and now it's your turn to feel guilty. There's this knot in your gut that pinches and twists and tightens. It steals your breath and makes you want to run and hide in your bedroom.

"I'm so sorry." You sputter, and your eyes are stuck wide open.

It's a good sign that you can apologize. Lucky you, you weren't as numb as you thought. JJ was still in your heart, maybe that meant Hotch and Emily were too. "I didn't mean to-" and you reach out for her, fingers ghosting just barely over where her cheek was starting to welt. You retract your hand at the last second though, you hadn't expected to actually hit her. "JJ, I'm so sorry." you reiterate, shuffling backwards, mostly so she doesn't touch you.

"It's okay." and you think maybe her ability to forgive you so easily is partially why you snap the way you do.

"No it's not!" you exclaim. "Nothing about this is okay, JJ." she jumps a bit at your tone, eyes flitting down the hallway. It was still vacant for now, which was good. "And just because you choose to forgive me quickly does not mean, I'm obligated to get over this now." you remind her as she pouts at you. She didn't understand why you were choosing not to forgive her. It didn't make any sense, it wasn't like she'd intentionally tried to hurt you. She hadn't had a choice.

"That's not fair." she exclaims, and now it's her turn to get aggravated.

"No, it isn't." you agree. "But, guess what JJ, it's my choice." the reminder makes JJ's face sour. Her heart though chooses

"I don't have to forgive you, especially when you haven't even actually told me why you're sorry. I don't want some apology that's just a means to keep you from feeling guilty about the fact that you fucked up, and you betrayed me." and it certainly sounds melodramatic. JJ's eyes are instantly rolling, and you feel a bit bad for your neighbors.

"You're treating this like it was some personal vindictive decision we decided to make." she counters. "It wasn't about you." she reiterates. "It wasn't about any of us." her voice raises just slightly. "It was about Emily." she sneers, "Do you remember her? Our friend." she emphasizes. "We did what we thought was best, Emily wasn't safe as long as Doyle was on the run, we wanted to minimize any chance of an attack." JJ proceeds. "We did what we had to for her." she adds.

"Don't you think we would've understood? We're supposed to be a family, JJ." you shoot back, and JJ's letting out an agitated sigh.

"We are a family."

"Give me a break." you're checked out of the conversation now, and you wonder how quickly you can shut the door in her face.

"What are you actually angry with me about, Y/N?" JJ presses. "I saw you that first day

You're telling me you're willing to throw away all your years at the bureau, all your years on this team, because of a decision that was out of our control?" she says, and she looks so disgusted at the thought. Maybe she was, it felt like the cowardly thing to do. Run away with your tail tucked between your legs instead of owning up to your feelings.

"I trusted you, JJ." you shout. "There's nothing deeper beneath the surface then that." JJ's eyes widen a bit at your outburst. "You watched me grieve for seven months. All while you got to sleep peacefully at night, because you knew the whole time that you hadn't really lost your friend. To you there was always an end to this, a day where Emily would be back, so not being able to see her for a little while doesn't matter in the grand scheme of things." you add.

"Y/N..." she begins and you shake your head.

"I think you should leave, I don't know why you came here." you mumble, and your hands on the door, ready to shut it in her face.

"Because I hate this." she answers sternly, voice raising just slightly. "And I'm tired of pretending that I don't." she emphasizes as your mood seems to worsen. "I-" she takes in a sharp breath. "I miss you, okay?" she exclaims. "I just want you to hear me out... for one second, and then I'll back off." she insists. "I'll leave you alone, and I'll accept that you'll never forgive me, but just... give me the chance to explain." you don't like to see JJ begging. It seems wildly out of character.

You think that's why you give her the chance. You nod your head stiffly, and she visibly relaxes, exhaling a shuddered breath.

"You have-" and her hands curl up into tight fists. "You have no idea how much I wanted to tell you." she exclaims, and you don't hold back with the visibly unimpressed look that crosses your face. "It's true." she deadpans forcibly. "And I know you can take care of yourself, you've been doing this profiling thing a lot longer than I have... but I couldn't rationalize putting you in harm's way, okay? I was trying to protect you." she explains, and she sounds desperate.

"I didn't ask you to do that." you shoot back instantly.

"That's the point, you never have to ask me." she cuts you off abruptly. "You'd never have to ask me to take care of you." and you note the way her turn-of-phrase has changed just slightly. "It's not something that I even have to think about doing, I just do it." she proceeds, and you blink a bit harshly, hand immediately moving to drag against your eye. You're sure on the outside it makes you look even more disengaged from the conversation.

You are listening though.

"I have known you for seven years-" her voice cracks, words slurring just slightly as she nervously gestures with her hands. Her eyes are glassy, but she still hasn't cried, you think that's just a part of who JJ is. Strong emotionally, unable to really let herself feel anything, she never wanted to look weak. You'd never expected such a front with you, even now when you were at odds, but here you were. "And-" she chokes on a breath, and none of your profiling skills seem to allow you to read between the lines. She would just have to spell it out.

She grows more anxious the longer you stare at her with an dry sort of expression. "And I've loved you for all seven of them." she finally blurts it out, and you feel it when a shiver snakes its way down your spine. "I just kept thinking about Doyle, and what he was capable of-" she proceeds to jump right over the confession. "I don't know how to be normal about you..." and it's lighthearted, it makes your lips twitch just slightly. "You're my best friend." she continues.

"And sometimes I just can't- I can't think straight... I go into this place where the only thing that ever matters is-" and her eyes widen just slightly before she's backpedaling. "I want to keep you safe, always." she insists. "You're my priority, you always have been, and I don't know what it'll take for you to trust me again, but I'm asking you to remember who I've always been to you, okay?" and her words are starting to lump together as she begins to speak much quicker.

You resist the urge to place a hand on her shoulder.

"And-and I just want you to ask yourself if I would ever do anything to hurt you deliberately." and you know, of course that she wouldn't. She hadn't. "Because I know that hurting you is the last thing I'd ever want to do. You purse your lips some, body leaning sideways as you press against the doorframe. You had a lot of thoughts swirling around your head, and many a feeling revving up in your chest. "I'm not good at this stuff." she admits, and of course you know that as well.

"But I'm asking you to let me make it up to you, I'm asking you to forgive me, and to believe that I only did what I did, because I was scared that you finding out about Emily would leave you open to danger." she pries. "I didn't think I had many options..." and her arms swing out, palms smacking against her thighs. She takes a breath that makes her chest heave. "I'm sorry that I hurt you, Y/N/N. I am so sorry." and she's trying to slow down her heartbeat.

Silence befalls the hallway immediately after, all you can really hear is JJ's booming heartbeat. She looks a bit crestfallen, and her face crumples up in that way that lets you know she's definitely about to cry. Still, JJ was the strongest woman that you knew, and you knew that no matter what, she'd wait until she was alone before she ever let you see her cry. She breathes in deep, back straightening as she fixes her posture just slightly. "I understand." and she curls her nose.

"I'm sorry for showing up like this." and she gestures to the space in between you both. "It wont happen again." she says it like a promise. "Bye, Y/N." her voice has grown a tad more glum, but you think you love her more because she doesn't beg.

"Bye, Jaige." and her chest fluttering at the nickname is a huge betrayal. Still, she couldn't deny how strongly she felt for you, even as you were crushing her heart in your hands. She watches as you stand back upright, stepping back into your apartment before you gently let the door shut. She gasps when the lock slips into place, and it's then that she allows herself the moment to shed a tear.

────────────────────────

"Well aren't you a sight for sore eyes." Derek's beaming at you, pretty teeth almost glistening underneath the shabby bullpen lights. It had been two days since JJ had shown up at your house, two days that had given you ample opportunity to think and reel in all your emotions. You held two cups of coffee in your hands, you supposed it could count as a peace offering. A truce declaration if you needed to label it as something. The aroma was pleasant and definitely calming.

"You look good, sweetheart." and there's no flirting beneath his words. He genuinely looks pleased with the fact, and you're grateful.

Derek Morgan was as sweet a friend as any, and despite his macho-manly outer shell, he'd treated you like kin from the day you started in the unit. He didn't smother you or hover over you, he let you be exactly who you were, but never failed to watch your back.

"I feel good." you admit, and you let out a quiet breath. "I'm glad to be back." you add a second after, and you're placing your coffees down long enough to wrap him a hug. It's needed, the comfort of your big brother, who's immediately scooping you into his arms. He squeezes like he's worried you'll disappear the second he lets you go, and you can only imagine that word had spread about your desire to step down from the unit. "I missed you, Der." you admit with a quiet huff, and Derek bends his chin to plant a kiss on your forehead.

"And I missed you, but I'm glad that you got what you needed." he then leans back, arms resting on your shoulders. "You did get all that you needed, didn't you?" he questions, and your head nods. "Good. This place isn't the same without you, and it'll do it some good to have you back." he purses his lips, because he's serious, but the desire to grin is still so prevalent. "Make sure you go see Garcia, she'll have a conniption and kick both our asses if she finds out you're making rounds, and I didn't tell her." he says, and you grin.

"That's my next stop, I just need to give something to JJ." you say quietly, and Derek's got this know-it-all expression on his face.

"Certainly not that coffee you've placed on my desk?" he asks, and you let out a quiet giggle. "Because once it hits my desk, it's finder's property." he teases as your eyes roll. "You know that." and he's mainly joking, and you appreciate it. It reminds you so much of how things were before, it takes away all the first-day-back jitters you'd been dealing with since you'd woken up and decided you were coming back. Derek always seemed to know exactly what to do.

"You didn't find anything, smart guy." you huff. "But, since I love you so much, why don't you just take this one." and you gift him the one that was originally meant for you. "Taste and be astonished, sir." and he takes the scalding paper cup from your hand, and brings it up to his nose to take in a sniff of the cinnamony beverage. "Just taste it." you huff, and he chuckles, free hand raising in surrender, as he brings it up to his mouth. The first sip like clockwork has him groaning.

You didn't consider yourself a caffeine connoisseur for nothing.

"You are an angel." he compliments, and you glow.

"I aim to please." you retort with a wink, and you look around the bullpen in search of the blonde profiler. "Have you seen Jaige?" you ask as Derek's head nods, taking another indulgent sip of the drink he'd manifested.

"She might be in with Hotch." he shrugs. "I told you things were different without you, little bit." and you resist the urge to frown. "He'll want to know you're back anyway though, right?" he continues, and you're immediately nodding your head in agreement.

"I guess you're right." you hum.

"I'm always right."

"Just shut up and drink your coffee." with that you're grasping the other cup in your hand, ignoring the way Derek's chuckle chases after you. You're not quite sure you're ready to face your boss, and despite how vacant the bullpen remained (and you were nearly forty minutes early), you knew eventually you'd have to face Emily too. You wondered if there was still time to change your mind and go back home. You don't have the time to decide either way, because the second you've climbed the ramp, you're met with the sight of Dave.

"The prodigal daughter's returned." he expresses, hands extended out as if he hoped you would hug him. Your face feels a bit warm, but you're ecstatic as you take the four short steps towards him. You use one hand to loop it around his side, head leaning against his shoulder as he hugs you just as tightly as Derek had. "I'm glad that you're back." he says, and there's this undertone that often lied beneath Rossi's words. "Everyone will be." he seems to finish his thought directly after, and you're hopeful that the same can be said for you.

"I hope so." you admit, and you offer a small smile. "How have you been?" you question politely, not really sure how to go about getting your groove back.

"I've been good." he replies with a content sort of smile. "The bad guys don't ever seem to stop, but I'm good." he answers and you grimace just slightly. "I'm much more interested to know how you are though." he expresses, before he raises an eyebrow. "JJ came back to work with some very interesting news about your future here at the bureau." he says, and he lowers his voice, which you think is indicative of something. Maybe that she hadn't blabbed to the entire team, and instead had only mentioned it to Dave.

"That sounds like JJ." you reply with a huff. "I'm good, I'm back... I think that's what matters most, isn't it?" you question and Dave scrutinizes you for a moment, but nods.

"Yes, I'd agree." he replies, and you relax a bit. "Thirsty?" he looks down at the cup in your hand, and you blanche.

"Uh-" you look towards Hotch's door. "It's for JJ... Derek said he thinks she's in with Hotch." and you nod your head towards it. Dave offers you a contemplative sort of look, you don't understand why. He then gives you a small smile, almost one of understanding.

"Then I won't hold you any longer," he promises, and you relax. "I'm glad you're back, Y/N." Dave finishes, and you beam, feeling a bit better about your decision. He leaves you with that, heading back into his office, as you take the few short steps from his office to Hotch's. It seems like things are working in your favor, the second you're raising an arm to knock, the door is swinging open. You're met with the sight of blue-eyed JJ looking back at you and you gasp.

You instinctively take a small step backwards, as she stares at you in surprise. "Y/N/N?" she questions, and that seems to garner Hotch's attention. The older man's focus being drawn towards the door as well. "What are you doing here?" JJ asks, and your mouth feels incredibly dry. All you can really do is push your hand forward, cup of coffee resting against JJ's chest. She's quick to look down at the beverage that was steadily cooling.

It takes her a second to garner the focus to grasp it in her hand, fingers brushing against yours. "Good morning." you slur out, and then you're motioning to the coffee in her hand. "This is for you." you proceed, and JJ's eyes are back on the cup, perfect brows pushing together. "C-Can we talk?" you shift from one foot to the other, not quite nervous, but definitely apprehensive and unsure. "Just for a second?" you question, and she's opening her mouth to respond.

"Uh, Y/N." it's Hotch's voice that pulls you both from what could have been a moment. "Can I see you for a moment?" he questions, and JJ's bottom lip is disappearing, front teeth just lightly pressing into it as you both realize that you don't have time to unpack the last conversation you'd had. You nod your head slightly, walls as high as the ceiling as the air around the both of you seems to grow frigid. You don't look at her, and she finds herself more confused than ever.

You step into Hotch's office, and let the door click shut behind you. JJ holds the cup of coffee in her hand, and her mind reels. Was this it? Were you here to step down? Were you about to make the choice that would change the unit's trajectory forever? She doesn't want to wait around to find out, instead she's being pulled towards Emily, who's walking through the elevator with Spencer on her heels.

"Oh, hey! Is that for me?" Emily's teasing, hand held out for the coffee that JJ feels the need to tighten her grip on.

"Uh, no." she denies sternly. "This is-" and she looks down at it, takes in the way the side is scribbled over with that nickname you'd created just for her. 'Jaige', there was no heart, no other note that would be indicative of what your motives were. But the 'Jaige' said a lot, maybe you had started to forgive her, maybe her words had actually meant something. Even if she'd poured her heart out, and you'd stared back at her like it meant nothing. She ignores that last part though.

Maybe she does it because she's secretly a masochist.

Maybe she thinks she deserves it.

"Y/N got this for me." she finally says it, and Emily's eyes are shocked. Spencer, who was gearing up to offer a greeting seems to stop in his tracks at the mention of you. "Yeah, she showed up this morning... and she gave me this." JJ explains, her eyes turning towards the shadowy, looming, darkness that seemed to sit outside Hotch's office as the two of you discussed God knows what. "She's here." she breathes this out, and Emily's head is tipped a bit to the side.

"That a good thing, isn't it?" she treads lightly and slowly. Gauging JJ's reactions, she couldn't deny her slight annoyance towards you. JJ hadn't been shy about her guilt, about the feelings she harbored that you had so eloquently ignored. She knew that you were handling things in your own time, but JJ deserved better than that, right? She didn't deserve to be blamed for something like this.

"I guess we'll see." JJ retorts, lips pursing together.

"Y/N is here?" Spencer questions, eyes still wide and bright, clearly unfazed by the inner turmoil JJ was currently dealing with.

"Yeah, she's in with Hotch." JJ replies as Spencer's face seems to glow, a newfound vigor to his look as he smiles slightly. Spencer says something about going to see Penelope before he takes his leave, JJ and Emily suddenly left alone. JJ heaves, hand clenching around the cup for a moment. It's warmth was far from blistering, but it would still be hot enough to wake her up a bit. For some reason though she's not so keen on drinking it anymore.

"Hey, are you okay?" Emily questions and JJ nods her head. "You know you can always tell me if you aren't." the raven haired woman adds a moment later. "I know things between you have been kind of weird, and that's partially my fault-" JJ's immediately holding a hand up to cut Emily's rant short.

"It wasn't your fault." she deadpans. "I chose to keep it a secret. I did it because I understood the importance of discretion, even if she can't." and she's a bit exasperated, mostly just tired of all of it. "I'll be in my office." and then she's taking her leave, grateful for the fact that despite her year away at the pentagon, she was lucky enough to come back to her own space, instead of being delegated to the open space of the bullpen with the rest of the team.

When she reaches her office, she sets the coffee cup down, moving to sit in her chair as she prepared to start her day. She hardly has the chance to get comfortable, because she's quickly getting a notification from her cellphone with a message from Penelope asking her to come to her lair. She huffs, feeling the early beginnings of a migraine forming. This time when she grabs hold of the coffee cup it's to toss it into the trashcan on her way back out the door.

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"Hey." you look up, a bit surprised to be getting approached by Emily. She looks a bit contemplative, but polite, sweet as always. After your long talk with Hotch, you'd been trying your best to get back into the swing of things. There hadn't been a call for a case, so instead everyone was catching up on paperwork. You'd been immediately cornered by Spencer, who was visibly overjoyed to see that you were back at work. He'd even surprised you with a hug that managed to be surprisingly mood lifting. But you hadn't run into Emily.

You also hadn't managed to run into JJ either.

"Oh, hey." you say, and you think back on Hotch's words, about the severity of Emily's case. He'd even tried to school you a bit on the real nature of Doyle's crimes, you supposed that was his way of expressing just how pertinent it had been to keep Emily safe. You tap your nails against your desk. "What can I do for you?" and it's a bit formal, but it's still taking some getting used to, being this close to Emily, who nearly eight months ago you'd believed to be dead.

"Nothing." she replies, "I just wanted to know if I could talk to you?" and she looks a bit hopeful, but you also know Emily was a thinker, you wouldn't be surprised in the slightest if she had premeditated this whole conversation. "It will only take a second." she adds as if recognizing the discomfort on your face.

"Uh, yeah... sure." you agree, albeit reluctantly. You knew full well the unit would not be able to function with you choosing to behave like a brat. You'd made the choice to come back, which meant that moving forward with every member of the team was important. You move to stand up, and Emily's holding a hand out to stop you.

"No, please." she gestures back to your seat. "Sit." she instructs, and you listen, dropping back into your office chair. "Look, we're all real happy that you're back." she begins, and you feel a bit awkward. Mostly because it's all you've been hearing all day, similar sentiments from all the current members of the Behavioral Analysis Unit. Derek, Hotch, Spencer, Penelope, Rossi, and now Emily. It served to only make you feel more guilty for seemingly throwing the world's biggest tantrum over the last four weeks.

"Thanks, Em." you reply, and she offers you a ghost of a smile.

"I don't know how long it'll take for things to feel normal again for you, and I know this is... absolutely a crazy situation." she pushes her lips to the side as she finishes this, "All I ask is that whenever you're feeling a little too... overwhelmed or it starts becoming too much for you again that you tell us." she propositions. "It's like Garcia always says right? This team works best because we're a family. We trust one another... we've got no other choice, right?" and Emily pauses, seemingly giving you the chance to input with your own opinion.

"Yeah." you agree, and she visibly relaxes.

"JJ's a really great girl by the way." she says, and your eyebrows jump up. "And she cares about you a lot. Too much I think." Emily continues, and you shuffle a bit in your seat, suddenly uncomfortable. "Cut her a bit of slack, okay? Don't punish her too badly for this." she instructs you, and your face ticks, you're unsure if you're going to frown or scowl.

"I wouldn't." you insist, and Emily offers you a look that you know says she doesn't quite believe you. "And I don't really need you trying to give me the protective friend speech." you add a bit unimpressed.

"I'm not trying to lecture you." Emily counters, and you cut your eyes at her.

"So then don't." you huff. "I've got a lot of work to do... so if there's nothing else." and you turn your head back to your files, face screwed up at her. Emily scoffs, letting out one of those huffed laughs that escape from your nose. It makes you look back up at her, eyes narrowed as you offer her a look that said something that was quite frankly not appropriate for work. "What?" you snap.

"You're being unreasonable." she deadpans, and you think that's part of the appeal of your bond with Emily. You'd both always had the liberty to say what you felt to one another, no holds barred. "And you're being unfair. JJ told me what happened, okay? How many times are you gonna make her apologize? And how long are you going to hold it over her head? I know that we hurt you, but you can't use that as your excuse to keep treating us like we're dispensable."

Your jaw drops at the accusation, "I'm not doing that. I'm not the one that keeps trying to push the damn envelope. I left to regroup, and the only reason I came back was because JJ was the only person that had the guts to apologize and to-to be honest with me. I would never use my feelings about the situation as some rouse to get my way, I'm not a child, and I don't appreciate you insinuating that I'm that unprofessional." and you admit, it's getting a little tense.

Derek's eyes haven't left you since Emily walked up, and you know it's not because he's looking for gossip. It's because he knows if the two of you go at it, you could both potentially say something that would hurt each other. But he also supposed it all had to come out eventually, Spencer's seemed to disassociate. His eyes haven't left his book, even as your voice picks up a bit of volume. Lucky kid.

"She told you that she was in love with you, and you shut the door in her face." Emily exclaims, and she's stern, but also certain to lower her voice. JJ wasn't subtle about her feelings for you, but that didn't mean she wanted it as something for the Unit to talk about. Emily watches as your face screws up, clear confusion swirling in your eyes as you shake your head involuntarily.

"Emily, what the hell are you talking about?" you demand, and Emily's face ticks.

"The other day..." she begins, and she's blinking rapidly, her own confusion starting to catch up to her. "When she went to see you?" Emily trails off, and your face pinches up even more, like you had no idea what she was talking about. "When she-" and she trails off.

"No. No she didn't." you deny. "She told me that she loved me, yeah... but JJ always tells me that, and it certainly wasn't like she was confessing secret feelings for me." you deadpan. "She told me why she lied, and she asked me to think about it, and see if I could forgive her. I did, I thought about it, and that's why I showed up today..." you continue, and there's no malice behind your words, it's only that same confusion from before. "Why would you think she was in love with me, Emily?" you press, and your head tips to the side a bit.

"I-" and she's floundering. JJ had made it so clear to her, she'd been so devasted by what happened. How she'd put her heart out there for you, and received absolutely nothing back. But looking at you now, there were no signs of deception, nothing that would prove that you'd willingly ignored a love confession. "I think you should talk to JJ." she retreats, suddenly feeling like she was majorly overstepping. Her annoyance towards your behavior disappears instantly.

This was all a misunderstanding, and you were painfully oblivious.

"Emily?" your confusion triples, watching as the raven haired woman takes off, ignoring the call of your name and serving to put you in a more sour mood. Your foot taps against the ground for a moment, looking over your shoulder at the only person in the unit besides you that could be considered exceptionally close to JJ. "Hey, Spence?" you call, and he's looking up at you instantly. You wave him over, and watch as he puts his bookmark in his book before standing up.

He passes Derek, who's settled back into his own work now that the tensions have declined. When he reaches your desk, you're reaching over to pull another swivel chair up beside you. He takes the hint, sitting down in the seat as you put on your best pleading face, it may have been a bit unethical, but damn it all, if you weren't confused now. "Can I ask you a question?" you plead, and Spencer's new haircut is cute, it fits him, makes him look more like the grown man he is, and not the little kid he'd been dubbed as by the rest of the team.

"You sort of just did." he tells you and you exhale, not out of annoyance though. It's humorous the way you walked right into that one. He's beaming at you, proud of it all, before he clears his throat, using a hand to gesture for you to continue with your real question.

"Do you have any idea why Emily would think that JJ was in love with me?" you question, and the thought is stuck on repeat now that it'd been brought to your attention. You hadn't really taken her words from the other day as some indicator that she held deeper feelings towards you. You watch the way Spencer's eyes widen, before he sets his face, allowing it to rest in a more relaxed expression. He was about to deflect or lie, either way you'd already gotten your answer.

"I think everyone's entitled to their theories and hypotheses..." he offers, and you roll your eyes. "Emily might have noticed something about JJ that led her to that sort of... conclusion." he adds, and your head tips to the side. "But, the only person who'd really know is JJ. Why don't you just ask her?" he offers, and his lips push to the side, almost like he's worried it was the wrong thing to say. Classic Spence.

You lean forward and plant a kiss on his forehead, "Thanks, Spence, you're the best!" you mumble as you stand to your feet, making your way across the bullpen to find JJ's office. The walk is short, and soon enough you find yourself hovering outside of the cracked door. It was a sign that she was sitting inside. You didn't really know how to go about this, on the one hand if it was all a big misunderstanding that'd be a bit embarrassing. On the other hand though, how were you supposed to deal with the fact that your best friend was into you.

For so long the Unit had remained a safe haven from things like crossed boundaries and inappropriate relationships. Of course there were those that toed the line (You still believed that Spencer and Elle had fooled around in the weeks leading up to her departure) and others had crossed the line (Penelope and Derek) but things had never gotten so intense. There were no weddings, dates, children between any of you. You all understood the importance of separation. How could you manage and sustain a relationship like this?

How would things change if one day someone felt that they weren't getting enough? You all had at one point or another prioritized work over your social life, and you all had seen exactly what a life like that led to you. It led to divorce and breakups that only appeared civil, but were really irreconcilable beneath the surface. Still, you push that all to the back of your mind, hand reaching forward to knock on the door. You take a small step backwards, giving her a chance to answer.

"Come in." she calls, and you take a deep breath before you push the door open. JJ's eyes widen the second she takes you in, and you wonder whether or not this was your smartest idea. "Oh..." and she immediately stands up from her chair. "Hey, is everything okay?" she asks, and you're finally stepping inside, shutting the door behind you. It closes with a soft click, and the air suddenly feels charged.

"Yeah, everything's fine. I just wanted to talk to you."

"Of course." she replies, "What's up?"

You think about starting off with a bit of small talk, hoping to ease into the obvious hard part with a bit of a buffer between you. You decide against it at the last minute. "The other night when you told me that you've... loved me for all seven years we've been friends, what exactly did you mean by that?" you pry, and JJ's face is immediately showing off her shock. Her eyes are wide, mouth dropping just slightly as she gaped at you.

"W-What?" she stammers, and you offer her a blank stare.

"It wasn't a difficult question, Jaige." you tell her and she doesn't really know how to respond. "Emily said-" and JJ's eyes are rolling, only because she couldn't believe that Emily had decided to confront you and turn it into an entire ordeal. You weren't obligated to reciprocate her feelings, and she really didn't need anyone fighting any battles for her, especially when she had already begun to make peace with moving on.

"Emily shouldn't have said anything to you, okay? After I left your house, I'll admit I was upset... but-" and she exhales, "You don't have to overcompensate for not feeling the same way by... bringing me coffee, and-and trying to relive that confession, okay? It's only going to hurt the both of us." she tells you sternly, and now it's your turn to be shocked. "It was really stupid of me to even mention it to you then, so we can just forget about it, okay? I'm happy you're back, but if that's it-" and then she's motioning to the door.

"JJ, I didn't know that you were confessing to me." you tell her. "Do you actually think I would've shut the door in your face if I did?"

"You know what? I actually don't know. I mean, the last few weeks we haven't exactly been seeing eye-to-eye." she reminds you, "And it's not like anytime during that conversation you ever gave me anything to work with." she reminds you. "You just did what you always do." she proceeds, and you scoff, growing offended.

"What I always do?" you hiss.

"Yeah, what you always do." she reiterates. "That thing you do where you pretend that nothing matters at all. Like you're just this impenetrable wall that feels nothing, isn't bothered, doesn't care." she says, and you're surprised to know that she thinks this about you. "Y/N, you're a profiler, isn't the whole point that you see the things other people don't?" she presses, "I mean, I don't know how much more clearer I can get. I told you that you were my priority, that doesn't exactly scream you're my best friend." JJ crosses her arms.

"We're not supposed to profile each other." you counter, and you think in a way this is you deflecting again. You didn't know what to say, you didn't even really know how you felt. She shoots you a dry look.

"Okay, Y/N, maybe we aren't." she says with a deep breath, and a tired expression on her face. "I don't really know what you want from me..." and you're taking a small step backwards,

"I'm just trying to understand-" and she's cutting you off instantly.

"There's nothing for you to understand." she snips, and your attitude towards JJ is back, your face screwed up.

"Okay then." you snap, and JJ seems to notice her mistake, her eyes instantly softening, but you both know that it's much too late now.

"Thank you for the coffee..." she gripes, almost like it hurts to say the words, "But I think maybe it's best if just for a little while, we give each other some space." she looks down at the ground. You blink, and you think you might burst into tears, your face and neck scalding hot.

"Is that what you want?" you question, and you ball your hands up into fists at your side.

"Yeah, it is." she agrees, though she doesn't mean it.

"Fine." and before she can really wrap her head around this decision, you're storming out of her office, allowing the door to slam shut behind you. It's childish really, but you can't find it in you to care. The excitement you'd felt that morning at the thought of reconciling with your friend was long gone. All that was left was the knowledge that JJ was supposedly in love with you, and the fact that you liked her a lot more before you found out.

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