#if there's anything specific you'd like to know‚ though

[rotagnus]

intuitive messages for the rest of may 🏙️

(and june). wow. it's been a while, hasn't it? sorry for not being as active. i have a lot of finishing up high school issues, but those are all slowly falling away. i feel like i'm starting a new phase of life and there's so many unknowns and it's kinda freaking me out 😭😭

this pac will give you some insight on a couple of things you should know. it's gonna be more specific (not too much) for each pile, so one may be about romance, the other can be about something totally else. please don't try to force yourself to pick one that doesn't resonate.

pile 1.

i think a lot of u will be reflecting on your life right now, especially about being alone. a lot of you developed this raw fear of being alone as a child, and you coped with it through various methods (for some always socializing even though at heart you loveee the nourishment that comes from solitude, for others through addictions (substances or anything else)). i think a lot of you had a falling out with something that was deeply central to all aspects of your life, and this kinda ran a crack through your vision of life was. more layers were discovered, and you're kind of like 'wow the world is way bigger and more complex than i thought' and soon, you'll be feeling a lot of emotions and seeing a lot of things you've NEVERRR seen before. like finding a new good song, y'know what i mean? but in order for this to happen, you're gonna have to truly let go of those things.

let yourself mourn. many of you just use escapism to get over trauma and heartbreaks because it was something you didn't allow yourself to feel as a younger person because it'd completely break you. you didn't learn how to cope with pain, and as a result, sought it out as an adult because it was a sweet taste compared to the unknown. stop finding people who remind you of the worst parts of life, and trust that there are good ones out there. sometimes, you don't meet them, because your current version would be unable to handle it. sometimes, to keep something forever, you have to be a bit patient in order to get it.

and another message for this pile; be careful with your negative emotions. you guys are a powerhouse, and that energy...it can really be used to better the earth, or as a weapon you wield. now, don't get me wrong; a lot of people deserve your anger and if i was you i would be bitter and hurt too. but you have to be careful who you aim it at. there are a few genuine people in your life and if you start to hurt them because of this deep-set dagger you've had in your back for the past years, you can scare them. channel all of those feelings into something that won't slowly destroy you, deep inside.

pile 2.

a lot of you have been in this patient, slow, steady kind of mood recently. a lot of you doubt your own tenderness and capability to be soft because you think that your loudness or some aspect of you cancels those out. all you want is to be able to be vulnerable and soft but a lot of the time, you feel like you tend to push people away, particularly in romantic prospects due to the fact that you are unable to change things about yourself or are simply unwilling to. there are parts of you that are deeply integral to who you are as a person, as a soul, and while you understand that you can't remove them simply for the sake of another person, you wish that you'd find someone who'd hold all these parts of you and be gentle with them instead of trying to make you fit into a box.

a message i have is that you CAN be loved for who you are, WITH that steady and soft love, without having to change things about yourself. stop painting yourself into a picture of what people 'want'. this is such a self-destructive quality you have and i think some of you have had relationships (platonic, romantic, EVEN W THE SELF) that required you to change something about yourself. sure, maybe you fit in better--but in your head, it was a storm. you guys really gotta stop trying to fit in. you weren't made for that life. think of all the famous artists, singers, whatever celebrity calls to you; did they fit in? nahhh. they paved their own road with their own hands instead of comparing themselves to others. you were meant to be unique. you were meant to SHINE as who you TRULY are instead of a mimic, instead of a two-dimensional copy of other people.

a lot of you look at people and go guessing what you have in store for yourself, or what you deserve. guess what? there's NOBODY out there like you. and i know it's hard because you're left worrying about the future, but this is the path you've chosen. you're blessed enough to be wise and deeply caring, and you've been blessed TO HAVE THIS RETURNED TO YOU IN THIS LIFE. but that is gonna be WASTED if you try to be loved by the wrong people who can only love those who fit a neat checklist. you really think that those people are gonna have true love for you if they only love you when you're a certain person? nahhh. stop trying to wither away just to be loved, pile 2. you guys have a deep fear of being unlovable, but you must fix it. there's a lot of people who are attracted to you, and you have to weed those with ill intentions out, BY BEING YOURSELF. be authentic. heal that wound.

pile 3.

a lot of you seem like you're grieving something rn. 'grieving your whole life'. moon river by frank ocean started playing. a lot of self-reflection has been going on, and for this pile, i think most of you really do love life for what it is; it's an art to you. existence is a beauty that is so tangible to you, you guys are really in tune with it, more than out of all these piles. you see people for their souls, not the roles they play in your life, which makes it hard for you to see any of them as 'villains' or 'heroes'. this can make you frustrating to deal with to some, but trust, you're gonna find someone who likes that deep justice inside of you. you just have to be patient. you guys feel like there's something good coming. it's true. you're the typa spiritual person who wakes up and lists off things you're grateful for. sometimes you doubt your goodness, but my message to you is that everyone can see it. even good people stumble, but that doesn't suddenly remove their goodness, y'know?

don't sink down to people's levels. i think a lot of you have experienced a betrayal of some sorts and now you think that the only way you'll ever be happy is by joining the crowd and running away from your depth, which feels like a burden sometimes. you feel like friends are fake and life is low, and you feel like the only way you'll ever be happy is if you turn to what makes other people happy...drugs, sex, money, etc. you guys fail to understand you're not meant for that. YOU'RE NOT MEANT FOR THAT. you guys are pure souls with pure hearts and the universe will shove you away from that path WITH FORCE if you ever go down it. i know you've been thinking about a certain decision; don't do itttt don't stoop down girl. you'll find joy but not in that. stop being scared that you're never ever gonna be happy, this is just a transition period, and god is testing you to make sure you're really willing to wait before giving all that to you.

connections will be very important for you in the next phase of your life. right now it's important to nurture yourself. have some tea, talk with someone who brings you light. i know that you feel like a burden and that you're complex, alone even in a crowd. that's not the way people see YOUUU. they see you as this bright, unique person, this SOUL that glows and leads people to light. you see yourself as this broken, chipped thing. you don't even see yourself as someone worth saving. you don't have to do everything yourself. trust, there will come a time in your life where you'll wake up by the love of your life with the golden sun in your face, and you'll feel truly happy. just because all of the people u met before were fucked in the head doesn't mean that the future holds the same thing. you have to stop giving yourself away FULLY. if your whole life revolves around one person that's a sign that something's seriously wrong. find other things to do that make you happy babycakes. you're the master of this reality; anyone would be lucky to have you. you're sweet, absolutely beautiful in the way that morning light is, honest, truthful, GOOD. you're a GOOD PERSON, dumdum. i know a lot of you don't wanna believe it but you are.

[captain-huggy-bear]

Hi!! I just had a thought for Clayton or Kess that I had to share. Reader who either has a concussion or amnesia after surgery forgetting that they’re dating and being so flustered when he’s acting like a boyfriend. Sorry if this didn’t make sense. It just came to mind and I had to share! 🫶🏼

Requests are currently closed while I work through current ones <3 (We're nearly at request reopening time though) Writing Masterlist

He was warned that you might be a bit confused when you finally came round from your surgery. Specifically he was warned that the anaesthesia might make your memory a bit fuzzy. You might not remember that you'd come in for surgery on your knee or that you had a problem at all in the first place.

So when you wake up to him sat next to you, your hand clasped in both of his own and stare at him like he's an alien, your mouth open, eyes wide, he doesn't take it too personally.

"Hey, baby..." His voice is sickly sweet, soft, oh so soft, and you're so confused because Clayton Keller did not call you baby...he barely even talked to you. Your cheeks grow hot, blood rushing to your face. "How you doing, sweetheart?"

"I...what happened?" You try not to let it get to you, the pet names, the sickly sweet tone, the soft eyes. You try not to think about how your hand is definitely growing sweaty and clammy from nerves where Clayton is holding it because when did he hold your hand? When did Clayton Keller even look at you, let alone touch you? Last you checked you just happened to exist in the same circle as him, just that girl who happened to be friends with Michael...why wasn't Michael here instead?

"You had your knee surgery, baby, remember?"

"Wha'?" You're getting so confused that you're starting to get emotional, tears coming to the surface, bottom lip wobbling and it has Clay shushing you, moving from his chair to the bed with you. He tugs you into his arms and you freeze like a deer in headlights.

"You okay, baby? What's wrong?" He knows you don't remember the surgery, that bit is obvious, but you're not acting like you normally would around him. Your face is fully flushed, nervous breathing, muscles tense like being this close to him is making you nervous. You haven't been nervous around him for months now.

"Why are you calling me that? You never call me that..." You tug away from him, enough to put space between you because Clayton Keller does not cuddle you. Not in your wildest dreams.

"Baby...I call you that all the time?" He's a little hurt actually, confused too now, because he calls you baby all the time. He barely calls you by your name anymore, in fact you tell him off if he calls you anything but a pet name. You get offended that you've been downgraded to your actual name.

"No you don't. You barely even talk to me...."

"Y/N, I'm you're boyfriend. We live together." It's like a bomb has been dropped, your face paling, body freezing up even further because that's not possible. Clayton Keller barely talked to you, let alone dated you. You still lived with Michael as your roommate...

"No you're not. No we don't..."

"Yeah, we do, see..." He gets his phone out. The lock screen is the two of you, you kissing his cheek while he grins the goofiest, widest smile possible. His dog is at your feet. He unlocks his phone and goes to his camera roll and each photo confuses you even more.

Pictures of you in your PJs on the couch, pictures of the two of you cuddling, kissing, holding hands, pictures together curled up in bed...Pictures at the beach. Pictures at dinner. Pictures upon picture of you and Clayton clearly together, clearly in a relationship. Not something he could just fake.

"You're my boyfriend?"

"Yeah, baby, have been for 8 months now...you don't remember?"

"Noooo..." You're starting to get teary again, drawing out the word, "Why don't I remember?" Your distress is from your sudden realisation that you've forgotten 8 months or more of your life.

"Hey, hey, baby...it's okay...the doctors said you might be confused for a bit. It's just the meds, it'll wear off." He tries to reassure you but he's also reassuring himself a little. A tiny bit scared you might actually have forgotten him forever...although if you have he's determined to make you fall in love with him all over again.

"You promise?"

"Of course, baby, c'mere..." Clay's quick to pull you back into his arms, cheek pressing against the top of your head as he rocks you. "You're going to be okay...oh, baby." He's babying you, he knows he is, but he also can't comprehend how scary it must be for you. You can't remember nearly a year of your life and even if that's temporary that's scary.

To add to that he's here. To him you're his long term girlfriend, but to you? To you he's a guy who could barely talk to you for months and acted disinterested because he liked you so much he got too nervous to talk to you. To you he's the unapproachable captain of your friend's hockey team. He's a guy you barely speak too...and he's here calling you sweet names and telling you you're living with him.

So yeah, he babies you, and yeah when you start to cry he holds you tighter...because this isn't about him, it's about you and how scared and confused you are right now. His job as your partner isn't to get upset or angry that you can't remember him, it's to help regulate you, to help you feel safe when everything you know is unsteady and unstable.

[izels-writing]

j. potter — how forever feels! [5/?]

Pairing: james potter x hopeless romantic!fem!reader

Summary: the stars have aligned and you and james' futures have intertwined.

Warnings: fake dating!!, ANGST, no lily evans slander pls it’s for the plot 😓, things get sirius (haha get it), slightly specific background for reader, heavy jealousy from reader

PART ONE - PART TWO - PART THREE - PART FOUR — PART FIVE

a/n; having a hard couple of days since graduation so ur all gonna suffer bc of it 😈 (jk!!) also if u can peep the b99 dialogue u get a cookie :P

TAGLIST: @hisparentsgallerryy @ilovejamespottersomuch @eli-com @froggiedragon @butterflygxril @d1lf-loverrr @lupinsweater @maraudersgirlie @lovelyygirl8 @hellokitty-girl666 @ttheosloverr @whyucloudingmymind

let me know if you’d like to be added!

you awoke to a bright light shining over your face. you squinted, opening your eyes slightly as you can face to face with the handsome face you'd been sleeping next to for the past few days. you smiled softly at james and closed your eyes again.

"leave me alone, james," you groaned, turning your body away from him.

but nonetheless, the potter boy was persistent. he chuckled and climbed over you, laying you flat on your back gently. you peeked your eyes open, smiling at him. he looked down at you adoringly, like you had hung the stars.

which you found was often the way james looked at you.

"it's christmas!" he exclaimed. "oh come on! we have to go open presents,"

you had done some fair christmas shopping of your own via owl delivery. so, you had a present for everyone in the house—albeit, small—which had been picked out thoughtfully.

"what time is it?" you mumbled, attempting to keep your eyes open. which wasn't hard given james was on top of you, and you'd kill for a sight like that any day.

"it's 7 am," he grinned.

"7?!" you replied incredulously. "james, you should still be asleep, what the hell?"

"well, after you got wine drunk with my mom, we decided to turn in early too," he teased. "how are you feeling by the way?"

ah, that explained the booming headache.

"like crap and like i don't want to be woken up at 7 am," you replied pointedly.

"too bad—my house, my rules, pretty lady," he grinned, leaning down to peck your lips. you grinned into the soft peck, capturing his lips with your own. he groaned quietly and pulled back.

"i know what you're trying to do and it won't work!" he insisted.

you tilted your head with a teasing smile. "no?" you grinned, batting your eyes at him.

"no, not at all," he breathed out. he was terrible at self control when it came to kissing you. that much you had learned in the past few days since you'd actively started kissing.

"ugh, fine," you groaned—though not actually annoyed. you pushed him off of you playfully and sat up, smoothing your hair down. "give me like five minutes to actually look presentable,"

james scoffed. "what're you talking about? you look beautiful!"

you knew you definitely looked like you'd just woken up. your hair was a mess, your eyes were droopy, and you weren't entirely sure that you'd gotten all of your make-up off last night after james and sirius put you to bed. you cringed subtly, remembering your insistence in your wine-drunk state that you were perfectly fine.

you only hoped you hadn't embarrassed yourself entirely.

"that's because you look at me with infatuation, and it's made you dumb," you retorted, standing up to stretch your limbs.

"if anything, love's made me smarter—remember when i baked those cookies for remus a couple of weeks ago?" he replied with a small grin. you pretended not to notice that he said love while you said infatuation.

in fact, you needed to pretend.

"i do! they were good, that was really big of you," you grinned, ambling over to the bathroom to brush your teeth and clean your face. he followed behind, standing in the doorway as you did so.

"so...what'd you get me?" he grinned, raising his eyebrows.

you glared at him playfully in the mirror, spitting the toothpaste out of your mouth. "you'll find out soon," you chuckled.

"but i need to know now!" he whined, coming up behind you to wrap his arms around your waist. you rolled your eyes and stared at him through the mirror.

"patience is a virtue, james," you reminded him gently. a small smile grew as he groaned into your neck.

"that i don't have! you know this!" he whined. he turned serious suddenly. "unless of course it came down to a person and what they wanted,"

you let out a laugh. "yeah, i know that, james," you assured. "i know the kind of person you are,"

you brushed your hair back into a messy braid and sighed, putting your slippers on and both of you quickly made your way downstairs.

the two of you were met with mr. and mrs. potter—who sat on one side of the couch and held mugs in their hands. they greeted you both and gestured for you to get your own cup of coffee, especially you since you were nursing a small headache. within minutes, remus and sirius had made their way down as well.

—

after a few minutes, sirius, remus, euphemia, james, and fleamont had all opened their presents. euphemia got a framed picture of her son and his best friends along with an enchanted wine glass that kept the wine cold while fleamont got a nice mug that was enchanted to keep everything hot with "number one dad!!" written in front of it. remus got a limited edition book you had saved up for. sirius got a poster he'd been wanting, along with a vinyl that he didn't have yet from his favorite band.

and then there was james. you'd searched far and wide for his present. after all, the boy could afford almost anything. you knew it was the thought that counted but it didn't make it any less nerve-wracking. so you got him two presents. one was a quidditch case with his name engraved and the gryffindor lion printed on the top. and then last one, well it was a bit more heartfelt.

james unwrapped the present carefully, feeling the sides of the box. you waited nervously, hands fidgeting in your lap. despite sirius and remus' assurances that he would love it, you were still scared he'd hate it.

"y/n..." he chuckled, "what is it?" he asked rhetorically. once he unwrapped it, he picked up the small book and opened it to read:

to the brightest star on the pitch

james potter

from your cold-blooded girl <3

he turned to you and grinned as he read it, you smiled softly and urged him to keep looking. he flipped the page and his eyes softened at the sight.

it was a photo album. the first picture was a picture of him, remus, peter, and sirius—laughing together after a game. remus and peter and sirius all had painted their faces in support of james. you had snapped the picture secretly, intending to keep it for your own scrapbook until you remembered that you likely wouldn't be friends with the boys after graduation given you and james' situation.

thankfully, you'd found another use for it.

james marveled at the many pictures of him and his friends. when he turned the next two pages, there were pictures of him and marlene, who was most certainly his best girl friend on and off the pitch. there was one of her on his back, kissing his cheek. another picture you'd taken in secret.

he smiled softly, looking up at you with a different kind of look you'd only seen from him once before.

he turned the next page and there were pictures of him and lily—as much as it had pained you to include them. some of them talking in class, some of them laughing, and some of them playing around. you had hated including those pictures, your heart squeezing tightly in jealousy. but james loved lily and you needed to find a way to accept that.

he turned the page, finding some pictures that you had taken over the holiday of him and his parents. there were various ones of him and his mum hugging, cooking, laughing, and even smiling. then there were some of him and his dad, sharing a drink, studying a potion fleamont had made, and one of them shoveling the snow out in the year.

and beneath every single picture, you had scribbled the date, the people in the picture, and a description. you expected the next pages to be empty, as you hadn't added any pictures of yourself. you'd left the empty pages for him to fill. except, when he turned the page, there were a few more pictures.

there was various more pictures. one of you and james laughing in the common room. another of you sitting in james' lap during a party. another of him lifting you up after he'd won a game, spinning you around. there were various more, but the one that stood out to you the most was the one of you and james sleeping in his bed—you curled into him while he, in his sleep, had curled his arms around you.

you looked up in surprise, your eyes catching sirius and remus' gaze. sirius smirked at you, while remus grinned slyly. 'thank you,' you mouthed to them, a small smile gracing your face.

james picked up, out of all of them, the one of you smiling at the camera (a picture you had believed marlene was going to keep for herself) lifting james' old jersey to show it off. he smiled at you softly. "i love it," he smiled, reaching over to pull you toward him. like always, you allowed him to pull you and you fell into his lap—him hugging your waist. you chuckled quietly.

"i'm so glad you do," you whispered, kissing his head softly.

"effie, are you crying?" fleamont asked with a small laugh.

"they just remind me of us," euphemia sniffled.

you and james ignored that comment and pretended not to hear it. then, james stood up and set you down on the couch while he went over to grab your present. from him. you'd already opened the ones from the others, but he wanted to 'save the best for last'.

he sat the two rectangular boxes in front of you, one wider than the other. you opened the smaller but taller box first. a quiet gasp fell from your lips as you looked up at him in disbelief.

they were the red and black heels you had pointed out to him months ago. the beautiful, elegant heels were exactly your size.

"james..." you whispered.

you'd told james once that you'd hardly had nice things growing up unlike him. that you always dreamed of the nice things, even if you knew you didn't need them. and he had remembered.

"open the next one," he smiled.

you opened the next box and let out a small sigh of appreciation. you pulled the long, dark red dress out of its box—handing it to james to get a full length view of it. it was a long, floor length dress with a sweetheart neckline and off the shoulder straps. it was tight around the body but flared out once ir reached the thighs.

"james...i...it's beautiful," you muttered, marveling at the dress. with the heels, it was the perfect outfit.

"thank you," you said quietly, standing up to hug him tightly. sirius came up to grab the dress as he hugged you back tightly.

"i figured it was something you could wear to the quidditch ball come march," he smiled softly.

you nodded with a wide grin. "i'd love to," you replied softly.

you only wished you could stay in this bliss of domesticity forever.

——

after new years, you had all began to pack up and make your way back to hogwarts. you and james had somehow gotten closer and for a moment, you liked to believe you were an actual couple. if anything, you didn't want to leave the happy little bliss you called home.

because they really had made you feel at home.

you frowned as you put away your shoes in your trunk, ignoring james' eyes on you.

"are you alright, love?" he asked, walking around the bed to stand beside you. you nodded wordlessly, not meeting his gaze as you folded some of your clothes and place it in the trunk.

"hey...come on, talk to me," he whispered, tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear. he caressed your cheek softly. "come on..."

"everything's going to change once we get back," you admitted, though vaguely.

"what do you mean?" he asked softly, searching for your gaze. you set down your clothes and turned to him.

"once we get back, you'll go straight back to liking lily and i'll go straight back to avoiding benjamin—everything we did this holiday, we're going to act like it didn't happen," you explained quietly, a little shamefully.

james shook his head. "listen to me," he said softly, looking you in the eyes. "nothing is going to change. i'm not going to act like this never happened. you are one the best things that's ever happened to me, i wouldn't give that up for anything,"

you tilted your head, biting the inside of your lip. "really?"

he cupped your face, smiling at you. "really," he assured. "i'm just happy you're letting me kiss you now,"

you grinned, rolling your eyes playfully. you pressed a soft kiss to his lips, fixing his glasses afterward. "well, i do enjoy it..." you replied.

"believe me, it's not just you, pretty girl," he grinned, kissing you again softly. james brought his hands from your face down to your waist, pulling you flush against him. you smiled softly into the kiss, before pushing him back gently.

"we have to pack," you reminded him.

he groaned. "i know, i know..."

——

the ride back to hogwarts was fun and less nerve-wracking. you and b/f/n had exchanged gifts and you two had integrated yourselves into the tight-friend group. as the four boys chatted with each other, b/f/n sat next to you.

"i have something to tell you," she whispered.

you turned your attention away from staring at james. you smiled softly at her. "what's up?" you asked quietly.

"peter and i, we found out we live near each other," she whispered excitedly. she had a look on her face, one you hadn't seen in a while. it was a good look for her.

"and?" you pressed on excitedly.

"i think he likes me," she whispered. "and...i like him," she added sheepishly.

"go for it!" you whispered back excitedly. "he's a good  guy!"

"i think...i think i will," she smiled.

"good," you whispered back with a smile.

"maybe we'll be the next james and y/n," she teased, nodding over at james' hand resting on your thigh. you flushed a light pink and rolled your eyes playfully.

"shut up," you whispered back.

as soon as you all arrived back at hogwarts, you all began walking back to the castle—talking animatedly amongst yourselves. as you were close to reaching the castle, you and james turned as you both heard someone call his name.

lily evans ran up, hair perfectly disheveled and her make-up perfectly styled. she looked beautiful, elegant even. and she smiled widely at james in a way that was hypnotizing. a part of you wanted to hate lily, but she was such a good person—that you couldn't.

"james...can i talk to you alone?" she asked softly, smiling at you briefly in greeting before turning her sole focus on james. james nodded kindly and smiled at her. your heart sunk even if you knew it didn't mean anything.

"yeah, yeah," he replied. "i'll see you back at the dorms, alright?"

you nodded. "yeah, of course...it was nice to see you, lily," you replied kindly, forcing a small smile before you joined sirius, remus, peter, and b/f/n who had all stopped.

you gazed over at them worriedly as lily and james began talking to each other, engaged in a happy conversation. a part of you felt nauseous at the sight.

sirius nudged you. "hey, don't worry, okay? he loves you," he assured, wrapping an arm around you.

but no, james did not. his heart belonged to lily the moment he laid eyes on her.

you nodded. "yeah, you're right," you lied. you all turned around and made your way to the dorms, doing everything in your power to ignore every worry in your head.

——

valentine's day soon rolled around and a part of you was nervous. you and james had agreed on no gifts, instead opting to spend the day together after classes. you weren't sure why you were nervous, maybe it was that you'd tried to distance yourself. you knew james at the very least did care for you and he wasn't a liar.

but you also couldn't shake the fact that he still loved lily even if he vehemently denied it.

"so? where are we going today?" he grinned, leaning over from beside you.

you shrugged. “whatever you wanna do,” you answered casually.

james furrowed his brow, like he usually did when he was confused. as the professor finished his lecture and allowed independent work, james turned to you and nudged you.

“hey…you alright? what’s wrong?” he asked quietly. with the chatter in the room, it was likely no one would hear you both, but he didn’t want to risk it.

“i’m fine,” you mumbled to him. “just tired is all,”

“y/n,” he said lowly. “what’s wrong?”

“nothing, seriously,” you replied, faking a smile at him. “i’m okay, just tired. haven’t been sleeping well,”

despite being unconvinced, james nodded and dropped the subject, instead opting for you both to finish the assignment.

as class finished up, you turned to him with a small smile. you had an idea suddenly, feeling the valentine’s day spirit as you watched many people exchange gifts in the classroom.

“do you wanna eat lunch together today? i know we’re spending the afternoon after classes together but i figured lunch could be added?” you suggested casually, smiling up at him.

he went to agree before a look of realization passed over his face. “i’m sorry, love. i promised lily i’d help her study for transfiguration during lunch, she’s beeb a bit behind…” he said softly. “but i promise, after classes, i’m all yours,”

well, there goes your valentine’s spirit.

you nodded with a small frown. he had been spending a lot of time with lily, since after christmas break she had talked to him about needing his tutoring in that one class. you knew very well she was doing fine, given you were both in the same class, but what could you say? or do?

“you know what? i just remembered i have something to do today, so why don’t you spend the day with lily?” you suggested, albeit a bit coldly.

you didn’t know what came over you. you weren’t like this, ever. but the thought of losing james was making you unbelievably jealous, even if it was part of the agreement.

the bell rang. you stood up and james sighed. “y/n, don’t be like that—“

you pulled your hand away from his hand. “no, seriously, james. i have something to do, take lily out of something, she seems to enjoy your company anyway,”

if you were a different person, you wouldn’t have noticed the hurt look on james’ face. but you did. and it made you feel even more upset.

you tried to salvage it by kissing his hair briefly before bidding him a quiet goodbye. he held onto your hip briefly as you did it, which made you feel ever worse.

you quickly left the classroom, catching a glimpse of lily waiting outside of the classroom for him. she spotted you and offered a wave and tight smile. but you couldn’t bring yourself to return the gesture, instead pretending you didn’t see her and walked off.

you couldn’t actually be mad at lily.

james was never yours to begin with. and you had seemed to forgotten that.

——

you and sirius lied on his bed, taking a break from your studying together to stare up at the ceiling. you had muggle studies together and were studying for an upcoming test. he spoke absentmindedly about some thing remus had told him about, pausing when he realized you hadn’t actually been listening.

it had been two weeks since the valentine’s day incident, you and james had since resolved it—mostly. he had kept hanging out with lily and you had chalked up your behavior as a bad day. he believed you, like the adorably idiot he was.

but you hadn’t stopped thinking about it.

“hey,” sirius whined, shoving you lightly from beside you. “you’re not listening to me!”

you shook yourself from your thoughts and chuckled. “sorry, what were you saying?”

“what’s up with you? you’ve been quieter and more distant than usual…” he asked, turning his head to meet you eyes. you turned to him as well, staring at each other as you lied on the bed.

“do you think james still loves lily?” you asked bluntly.

“woah,” sirius said suddenly. he sat up, looking down at you. “that’s a big question,”

“i know,” you replied quietly. “but do you think he does?”

sirius took a deep breath. “he loves you,”

you shook your head sitting up. “but does he still love lily?”

sirius fell silent for a minute, avoiding your gaze. then he spoke, “i think it’s complicated…” he admitted.

you scoffed, looking away. “how complicated can it be? does he love her or not?”

sirius looked at your hurt expression and found he could not lie to you. he knew james did love lily, but he also loved you. but lately, he was started to believe his love for lily was returning. what with being at her beck and call every time she said she needed help with transfiguration homework…or anything else.

“i think he does,” sirius replied quietly. “but it doesn’t mean he loves you any less,“

you rolled your eyes, a sharp pain in your chest as you felt a ball rise to your throat. you stood up, grabbing your things. “god, i’m so stupid…” you muttered.

“y/n, please…” he pleaded. sirius wasn’t sure what he was pleading for, but it was something. “just don’t…I don’t know! look, he loves you!” he insisted.

you shook your head, hoisting your bag over your shoulder. “you can’t love two people at the same time, sirius.” you looked at him, eyes softening despite your heartbreak. “thank you…for being honest,”

he nodded, unsure if he should say anything else. even if he had decided, you left before he could.

after leaving the room, you quickly made your way down to the quidditch pitch. james was practicing alone, like he usually did on wednesdays. you were afraid if you waited any longer, you’d selfishly lose the courage to say what you needed to.

as you entered the pitch, you took quick notice to james in the air—talking to someone in the stands. you took one look and felt your chest being ripped out. a flash of dark red hair was all you needed to see.

“james!” you called. he turned quickly, wasting no time in flying down to you. he had a big smile on his face, which made your chest hurt even more.

he noticed your serious expression and his face became concerned. “are you okay? what’s wrong? I thought you were studying with pads?” he asked, rattling off the questions as he scanned you to make sure you were alright.

“i can’t do this anymore,” you blurted out, feeling the oxygen leave your lungs as james suddenly looked hurt…and scared.

“can’t do what? muggle studies? baby, you can always just study more with pads..and me! i’ll help,” he insisted, clearly wanting to convince himself it was about a class.

“no, james, i can’t do this anymore,” you insisted, gesturing between the two of you. you felt a ball rise to your throat. “i’m done, i’m out, you got your end of the deal and so did i,”

“hey, hey, love…what do you mean? we’re good together, we love each other,” he insisted, attempting to cup your face. you stepped back.

“no, james. i love you,” you replied, voice shaky as tears brimmed your eyes. “you love lily,”

he shook his head, face looking hurt and broken. “no, i love you!”

you swallowed thickly, tears threatening to spill. "you mean to tell me you don't feel all warm when she smiles at you? feel like you're going to faint when she touches you? want to be around her every waking moment? you're telling me you don't feel that for her?" you asked, staring up at him expectantly.

he stayed silent. at a loss for words, he glanced back at lily and then at you. his eyes looked glossy.

"you want to know how i know you feel that?" you asked softly. "because i feel that around you!"

a sob threatened to leave your mouth as you said it. so you clamped your mouth shut and shook your head, taking a deep breath. you grabbed the old jersey in your bag, handing it to him.

"i'll see you around, james," you muttered shakily.

before he could say anything, you left.

[savedbysinners]

Black Dragon x Kai?? 👀 Tell me what you are willing to share please 🩶 I must know everything

AHHHH, ACE I AM SO EXCITED ABOUT YOUR ASK!! I haven't made my Black Dragon self-ship post yet, so I haven't really talked about them publicly! There's so much to share, I don't even know where to start 🤭

It's also really convoluted, because my self-ships change across the different timelines! I've been working on putting together more detailed timelines on paper, rather than just in my head. I'm just gonna word vomit random facts for right now ~

It started with Wakasa. Through exploring my relationship with Wakasa, I got to know Takeomi, Keizo, and Shinichiro and love them in ways I'd never expected. Since I'm demiromantic and demisexual, that emotional connection was a key factor.

The self-ship also starts with Wakasa. He plays different roles in different timelines, but it always starts with him looking out for me, in one way or another, and a relationship developing from that.

They are a HANDFUL. Self-doubt starts to eat at Takeomi if he's not given enough attention and reassurance, Wakasa injects himself between me and everybody who isn't Shinichiro, and Keizo especially hardly ever gets me to himself.

Shinichiro and I spend time together both at his shop (my grandfather owned his own auto shop, and my husband works in one, and I love the sounds and smells,) and doing chores.

I tag along with Wakasa when he goes fishing, though I read quietly while he fishes. He thought he'd hate it, but he enjoys it.

Keizo, Wakasa, and I often workout together, and I help out around the gym where I can. Keizo loves to help me stretch.

Takeomi is the only one who can make coffee exactly how I like it, and the one who makes sure to keep my favorite tea stocked.

Keizo doesn't like it when I smell like smoke, and doesn't like others smoking around me, including Takeomi and Shinichiro.

I adopt all of their siblings as my own. It is absolutely my liveliest self-ship, and the one filled with the most love and family, and really brings together so many people in amazing ways.

I love to cook for them, and love it when their friends or siblings are over for dinner. While I often cook both Japanese and American food, I love to cook homemade Polish food for them especially.

While I have a romantic relationship with each of the guys, they have their own unique relationships with one another as well, ranging from platonic to romantic.

Despite the chaos, it really is a very happy and healthy relationship. That's not to say there's never issues, of course, but there's a lot of mutual respect and the desire to see everybody involved happy.

[torchickentacos]

Ah, yes, Nelly Furtado's hit song Anteater. In completely unrelated news, several people have told me that I might be slightly dyslexic.

[longagoitwastuesday]

you seem to have a wide taste in books !! what are some books that you would recommend ??

Hmmm I wonder. I have the feeling I just read the same couple of books over and over, and at times only different iterations of the same story, like in that line by Borges ("the various intonations of a few metaphors").

I find recommending books without knowing anything at all about the person asking rather difficult. What I'd suggest to one may differ greatly from what I'd recommend to someone else. I'll give a list of some of my favourite books that I think are enjoyable in general:

— Thoughts by Pascal

— Cain: a mystery by Lord Byron

— The Iliad by Homer

— Crime and Punishment by Dostoievsky

— Othello by Shakespeare

— Pedro Páramo by Juan Rulfo

— Cyrano de Bergerac by Edmond Rostand

— The fragments of the Presocratics

— La Regenta by Leopoldo Alas, Clarín

— Tractatus Logico-philosophicus by Wittgenstein

— East of Eden by John Steinbeck

— Vita nova by Dante

— Contributions to the Founding of the Theory of Transfinite Numbers by Georg Cantor

— Caligula by Albert Camus

— North and South by Elizabeth Gaskell

— Peter Pan by J. M. Barrie

— Some essays by Russell. I personally love Mysticism and Logic

— Metamorphoses by Ovid

Poetry is perhaps harder to recommend because at times it translates horribly, but in general I love Baudelaire, Rimbaud, Lorca, Juan Ramón Jiménez, Rilke, Byron, Quevedo, Góngora, Lope de Vega, Horace, Catullus, Ovid, Tennyson, Maiakovsky, Garcilaso de la Vega, Oliverio Girondo, Vicente Huidobro, Emily Brontë, T. S. Eliot, César Vallejo, Luis Cernuda and Edgar Allan Poe, to name a few.

[cashmoneyyysstuff]

share my world

synopsis : your boyfriend has a weird little habit of squeezing your fingers. and, naturally, he won't tell you why.

an. i make a stupid "you cant just say perchance" joke here bc i think its very funny. it's corny, so beware!

"so, are we ever gonna talk about this ?"

if katsuki is startled by the fact that you're awake, he barely let's it show besides the way his eyes widen just slightly in the darkness of the room, you're eyes have adjusted enough thanks to the light of the moon peeking through the curtains.

"gonna talk about what ?" he asks sluggishly, eyes drifting downward towards your hands again. or more specifically your fingers.

"talk about why you keep squeezing my fingers when you think i don't notice ?" you explain. katsuki takes about ten seconds to respond. his eyes dart to you when you finish talking. when he looks away again he squints and squeezes your finger with his thumb and pointer almost by reflex.

"s'not like i'm trynna be sneaky.."

you realise he's trying to weasel his way out of your question with a vague answer, so you insist. "and it's always my ring finger too, is it like crooked or something ?" you joke. that rewards you with a huff of laughter from your boyfriend, who squeezes your ring finger tight.

"yeah, m'trynna—set your shit straight." he groans, pretending to struggle as you whine in discomfort. trying to wiggle your finger out of his grip.

when he grants you some mercy and loosens up (still not letting go) he speaks again "if it bothers you so bad why didn't ya say nothin' ?"

"doesn't bother me, perchance.. just wanna know what the big deal is." you reassure, shrugging deeper into his sheets.

he raises an eyebrow holding back a smile "ya can't just say perchance, moron." you stick your tongue out at him as you laugh "that's the joke, asswipe. now quit dodging the question !" you snark, he squeezes your nose in retaliation.

he grunts, looking around the room for anything to save him from talking. he groans when he doesn't find anything.

"i just—it's—i just—do it cuz' i wanna, that a problem ?" he stutters defensively. you roll your eyes, squeezing his nose back, chuckling when he dashes away and glares like you'd smacked him.

"of course not, suki."

"good. quit interrogating me then."

you roll your eyes with a sigh, knowing this is the most you'll get out of your cryptic boyfriend. "that's gonna make me even more curious, y'know ?"

"tough luck. guess y'r just gonna have to live with that. 'night." he settles, and the bastard actually closes his eyes, pulling you closer like his personal plushie. you push at his shoulder "dick." you mutter, he chuckles quietly.

and yeah, you guess you are gonna have to live with that, until you forget about it that is. only for you to remember again and ask him this exact question again and though you're being patient for now, katsuki knows that sooner or later you'll get restless. always so damn impatient, he thinks to himself.

well, not like he could say much, but he'll keep that thought to himself.

and he's being pretty patient right now, he thinks. squeezing your ring finger tight when he realises your breathing has slowed and you'd fallen asleep. he rubs at the spot where he hopes, he prays, you'll allow him to put a ring on soon.

you were just going to have to live with this for a little bit longer in the meantime.

[jungwnies]

F1 GRID | being caught together

୨ৎ : featuring : lando norris, oscar piastri, kimi antonelli, ollie bearman, and yuki tsunoda (click here for part one) ୨ৎ : synopsis : being caught together after telling everyone you guys weren't even dating...

୨ৎ : genre : comedic romance ୨ৎ : tws : cursing ୨ৎ : word count : 1853

୨ৎ masterlist ୨ৎ

ᡣ𐭩 a/n : part one will always include: verstappen, hamilton, russell, sainz, and leclerc. part two will always include: lando norris, oscar piastri, kimi antonelli, ollie bearman, and yuki tsunoda! <3 (every f1 grid story is released on saturdays @ 8pm and @ 10pm est)

ʚ・lando norris

you and lando had spent months insisting that you were just friends.

no one believed it, of course. but you had managed to dodge the questions, ignore the teasing, and brush off the lingering stares.

until you ruined it.

it happened during a casual lunch with some of the grid. the conversation had been normal enough—until oscar, of all people, asked a completely harmless question.

"if you had to order for someone without asking them, do you think you'd get it right?"

carlos shrugged. "depends on the person."

charles nodded. "i’d get arthur’s order right, but no one else’s."

lando scoffed. "none of you would get mine."

and before you could think, before you could stop yourself, the words just came out.

"that’s not true," you said. "oat milk flat white, extra hot, one sugar if it’s before noon, but no sugar if it’s after."

silence.

the entire table went dead quiet.

lando blinked at you, stunned.

carlos raised an eyebrow. "…what."

you felt every molecule in your body freeze as realization hit.

you had just exposed yourself in the worst way possible.

lando, still looking at you like you had just unlocked a deeply personal secret, tilted his head. "how do you… know that?"

you scrambled for an answer. "lucky guess?"

charles let out a low whistle. "ohhh, no. that was too specific."

oscar smirked, clearly enjoying the situation. "and she didn’t even hesitate."

lando, still way too amused, leaned in slightly. "what else do you know?"

you needed to get out of this. "nothing!"

lando narrowed his eyes. "favorite post-race meal?"

you swallowed. "chicken pesto pasta."

"pet peeve?"

"when people scrape their utensils against the plate."

"favorite childhood movie?"

"shrek."

the moment the word left your mouth, you knew it was over.

carlos choked on his drink. "no way—"

charles leaned back, laughing. "you are so in love with him."

your face burned. "i am not!"

lando, looking way too smug now, crossed his arms. "well, you definitely pay attention to me."

you grabbed your drink, taking the longest sip of your life to avoid looking at him.

lando leaned closer, his voice low, teasing, just for you. "kind of cute that you know me so well, though."

and that was when you realized—you were never living this down.

ʚ・oscar piastri

you had been so careful.

for months, you and oscar had kept things lowkey. no public outings that looked too couple-y, no obvious flirting around people who would catch on, and definitely no social media slip-ups.

until, of course, you accidentally exposed yourself.

it started with something so innocent—a simple café photo for your instagram story. a well-framed shot of your latte, a book, and the warm, aesthetically pleasing lighting of a cozy melbourne café.

it was perfect.

until someone noticed the hand in the background.

at first, you didn’t think anything of it.

until your phone blew up.

@/f1updates: so uh… who’s hand is that, bestie? 👀 @/mclarenfan99: guys that’s so oscar’s watch wtf @/piastristan: wait i zoomed in that’s his hand @/lando_norris: oh. oh this is good. @/oscartheferrari: you fumbled your own soft launch 😭😭 your stomach dropped.

you clicked on your own story, staring at the very obvious, very identifiable hand resting on the table—wearing oscar’s exact watch, with oscar’s exact freckles, positioned in a way that very clearly suggested you weren’t just hanging out as friends.

and then, just when you thought it couldn’t get worse, oscar texted you.

oscar: so i guess we’re soft launching now?

you: i didn’t mean to

oscar: try telling that to the entire internet.

panicking, you deleted the story—but it was far too late.

because minutes later, lando reposted it on his own story with one simple caption:

"nice watch, mate. 😉"

you wanted to die.

by the time you saw oscar again, he was way too amused, arms crossed as he leaned against the counter. "so," he said, biting back a smirk, "want me to post a hard launch?"

you groaned, burying your face in your hands. "i am never living this down."

oscar just chuckled, reaching over to steal a sip of your drink. "well, at least now we don’t have to hide it anymore."

and that was how you learned—there is no such thing as an accidental soft launch.

ʚ・kimi antonelli

you hadn’t even noticed.

really, you hadn’t.

the group hangout had been easy, casual—everyone sprawled across couches, floor cushions, and bean bags while watching a random movie none of you were actually paying attention to.

and somehow, at some point during the night, you had ended up practically wrapped around kimi.

it wasn’t intentional. you had just been sitting next to him, and then someone shifted, and you moved a little closer, and then it was just comfortable.

your legs were tangled, his arm was resting behind you on the couch, and every so often, you felt the slightest pressure when he leaned into you.

it wasn’t a big deal. until someone pointed it out.

george, ever the observant one, was the first to notice.

"not to ruin the moment," he said, smirking, "but are you guys going to explain what’s happening over there?"

you frowned, pulling your attention away from the screen. "what?"

george raised an eyebrow. "you two are practically—" he motioned vaguely between you and kimi. "intertwined."

you glanced down—and oh.

yeah. your entire lower body was tangled with kimi’s.

one of his legs was slotted between yours, your calf was resting against his, and his hand was literally on your thigh like it was the most natural thing in the world.

you froze.

kimi, meanwhile, just blinked. "what about it?"

lando, now noticing, wheeled around to face him. "what do you mean, ‘what about it’?!"

kimi shrugged. "she’s comfortable. i’m comfortable."

george exchanged a look with oscar, who looked one second away from laughing. "but you’re literally cuddling," george pointed out.

you felt your entire body heat up. "we are not—"

kimi, completely unfazed, adjusted his position slightly, hand still resting on your leg like it belonged there. "i don’t see the problem."

you turned to look at him, betrayed. "kimi!"

"what?" he asked, eyes flickering to yours, lips twitching just slightly. "you don’t seem to mind."

lando lost it. "oh my god, they’re actually worse than charles and his denial phase."

george smirked. "i give it two weeks before they admit it."

your entire body was on fire.

kimi, still completely unbothered, leaned in slightly, voice low enough for only you to hear. "you don’t actually want me to move, do you?"

you swallowed hard. no.

but there was no way you were admitting that out loud.

so, instead, you groaned, covering your face. "i hate all of you."

kimi just chuckled, leaning back like nothing had happened. but his hand?

yeah. he never moved it.

ʚ・ollie bearman

you had been so careful.

for months, you and ollie had managed to keep whatever this was completely under wraps. no suspicious glances, no unnecessary touches in public, and definitely no getting caught leaving each other’s places at odd hours.

until, of course, you did.

it was way too early—the kind of early where the streets were still quiet, the sky barely waking up, and the world felt like it belonged to you and ollie alone.

you had slipped out of his apartment, hoodie pulled over your head, moving casually like you weren’t trying to look suspicious. it was fine, really. no one was awake to see you, and you had made it almost all the way down the hallway.

then, the worst thing imaginable happened.

the elevator doors dinged open—and standing there, fully awake and looking way too amused, was none other than george russell.

your soul left your body.

george took one look at you, at the way you were still in last night’s clothes, at the very familiar hoodie you were wearing—ollie’s hoodie—and his entire face lit up with realization.

"ah," he said, stepping out of the elevator, his smirk growing by the second. "good morning."

you froze. "uh—hi."

george raised an eyebrow, glancing over your shoulder at ollie’s door. "interesting place to be leaving so early."

you wanted to die.

"don’t say anything," you blurted out, already panicking.

george crossed his arms, absolutely thriving in this situation. "and why wouldn’t i say anything?"

before you could think of a good excuse, ollie’s door swung open behind you.

and there he was—sleepy, shirtless, hair a mess, looking far too comfortable as he leaned against the doorframe.

and then he saw george.

ollie blinked. "oh."

george’s grin tripled in size.

ollie, still half asleep, looked at you, then at george, then back at you. "well."

you buried your face in your hands. "we are so screwed."

george clapped ollie on the shoulder, barely holding in his laughter. "i’ll let the others know you’re both alive," he said, walking away. "have fun explaining this one."

ollie sighed as the elevator doors closed behind him. "well, that could’ve gone worse."

you looked at him dead in the eye. "really? how?"

ollie just smirked, reaching out to tug on the sleeve of his hoodie—the one you were still wearing. "at least now you don’t have to sneak out next time."

and, honestly?

you hated how much you liked that idea.

ʚ・yuki tsunoda

you and yuki had been so sure that no one suspected a thing.

sure, you spent a lot of time together. sure, you had an obvious soft spot for each other. sure, yuki always found some excuse to touch you—whether it was an arm around your shoulder, a hand on your waist, or an absentminded head leaning against yours when he got tired.

but that didn’t mean you were dating.

or at least, that’s what you had convinced yourselves.

until you absolutely blew it.

it started when pierre—who had been grilling you both for months—finally asked, "so, when are you two just going to admit it?"

you immediately scoffed. "admit what?"

pierre leaned back, crossing his arms. "that you’re together."

yuki, sitting beside you, snorted. "we are definitely not dating, okay?"

pierre and charles exchanged knowing looks. "right."

"we just spend a lot of time together," yuki continued, waving a hand casually. "because we’re friends."

pierre nodded, clearly holding back a grin. "friends."

"yes!" yuki huffed. "and, okay, maybe we cuddle sometimes, but that’s just, like, a comfort thing. it’s not a big deal."

you blinked, glancing at yuki. "yuki—"

he kept going. "and, sure, maybe we kiss—"

silence.

your soul left your body.

pierre choked. charles’s eyes widened.

yuki froze, realizing way too late what he had just said.

pierre grinned like the devil himself. "you… kiss?"

yuki’s face turned bright red. "i—that’s not—what i meant was—"

pierre turned to you, smug as hell. "is there anything you’d like to add?"

you groaned, covering your face. "i hate it here."

pierre leaned forward, thriving in your misery. "so when’s the wedding?"

yuki, now fully spiraling, just muttered, "i am never speaking again."

but it didn’t matter.

because the damage was done, and neither of you could deny it anymore.

2021-2025 © jungwnies | All rights reserved. Do not repost, plagiarize, or translate

[reiderwriter]

Rumours

A/N: I'm back! I started this one literally in February and then got so distracted by my job I couldn't finish it. Employment is a curse.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Plot: Spencer is displeased about some rumours he hears about you around the office. Only the way he goes about confronting them is clumsy and downright maddening.

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI, misogyny, misunderstanding, Spencer is a dick for a while, violence (breaking glass etc.), penetrative sex, oral (F receiving), slapping, choking, anal fingering, general BDSM content, Dom!Spencer, sub!reader, breeding kink (tee hee), cock warming, almost exhibitionism?

Masterlist

It wasn't as if you'd made it your life's mission to be the most rumoured about person on your team at the FBI, but you weren't exactly doing anything to correct people's perception of you. Spencer may have been to jail, Emily may have faked her own death, and Luke's past was a big, fat question mark, but nothing caught the attention of the pencil pushers in the office than the string of broken hearts you'd ostensibly left behind you at Quantico.

At one point in time, you'd even promised yourself you wouldn't date anymore law enforcement officers, lawyers, detention officers or anyone even remotely adjacent, but life was short, and you had a decent appetite for a men with guns and badges. It was very convenient to say the least.

Convenient for everyone apart from Spencer Reid.

The FBI was a boys club, sure, but with all the women on your team, the most ridicule you got after a drunken escapade with a distant coworker was a few teasing remarks. The first few months on the team, you'd been able to date, fuck, and play freely without any judgement. And then Spencer Reid had come back from leave, and you suddenly began to doubt your bachelorette lifestyle.

Because fuck was he frustratingly territorial.

It wasn't as though he was interested in you. He was 13 years your senior, fresh from an FBI mandated leave of absence and false imprisonment, and absolutely used to being coddled by every member of the team. If the BAU was a family, he was absolutely the youngest child who'd returned home to find his parents had adopted a dog while he'd been gone to replace him with.

You were the dog.

Spencer took issue with your attitude, your work ethic, your professionally, and with the sheer amount of times he'd been approached by men asking for your number, home address, or if the rumors were true.

He was used to casual oversharing, of course, he'd worked with Penelope long enough to not be phased by much sexual talk. But everytime he stepped into the office - or specifically the offices male bathrooms - he'd end up stuck in the same conversational loop.

“I heard she can do this thing with her tongue…”

“... definitely likes it rough…”

“I could show her a good time…”

“....I'm definitely hitting that by the end of the year…”

He stewed in it for a few weeks before the cracks fully formed in his exterior professionalism. When he heard about how you'd definitely fucked every male member of your team, though, that's when he lost it.

“You need to be more careful,” he said one day, pulling you aside between cases in a rare private conversation.

“Oh, yeah, in the field I can definitely rush in-”

“No. You need to be more careful with men.”

The look on his face sent a flare of shame through your chest, as you found yourself suddenly out of your depth. You didn't know this man well enough for him to be giving you advice. Your body set to full alert, and your fight or flight was in full go, as he cornered you and continued.

“They talk about you in the bathrooms, and I would not like to repeat what they say, but-”

“I don't care what they say.”

“You should.”

You frowned again, as he continued, completely oblivious to your growing anger.

“You should, because now it's reflecting badly on the team, and-”

“The team? I'm sorry what had the team got to do with this?”

To his credit, Spencer at least managed to look uncomfortable after that. He was set on reprimanding you, fine, but you'd make sure he wouldn't try to get so personal again.

“They're saying that you've slept with a number of coworkers-”

“Why should I care if-”

“Including me.”

You managed a half laugh in his face as his frown deepened.

“Oh so this isn't about my reputation, it's about yours. I should be safer with men because I'm reflecting poorly on our golden boy?”

“That's not what I'm-”

“Don't worry, Spencer. I'm safe enough.”

You made sure to push past him as you walked away, and he'd not been quiet about his dislike of you ever since.

Every man on a case you interacted with got you a disapproving glare, a slight turned down lip, a questioning glance. It was like you were being watched constantly, and it felt horrendous.

It was almost worse when the knowing looks he sent you were spot on in their assumptions. If you spoke to a man you had been with, hooked up with, been on a date with, even simply flirted with for a while, you felt his eyes pricking you.

His gaze knew everything it needed to know, almost as if he'd been in the room watching you submit your body for pleasure.

You thought it would be better on cases, that he'd be focused on other things and not worry as much, but when your first case post-argument landed, it landed you uncomfortably close to your childhood home, and included a face from your past you'd hoped not to see again.

Having an ex boyfriend in the police department in the middle of nowhere Washington was helpful for the case, but on a personal level it sucked.

You managed five minutes of personal conversation before you felt his eyes on you.

“Beautiful, you're not paying attention to me anymore. And here I thought fate had sent you back into my life as a little gift for a job well done,” your ex had said, ducking in close to you at your makeshift desk but locking eyes with an approaching Spencer as he spoke.

“Y/N, can I have a word?” he asked, though his jaw was set, and his tone insistent.

“Professionally or privately?”

“Y/N,” he warned, his tone a bit lower as you rolled your eyes and stood, following him to a quiet interrogation room quickly.

“What's wrong with you this time?” you demand as soon as he has the door closed. “Panties in a twist?”

“We are on a case, Y/N. Please at least pretend to be a professional.”

“What? What am I doing that is so wrong?”

He fisted a hand in his hair quickly, closing his eyes as if it would drown out your arrogant tone.

“You can't be serious, Y/N, he was practically fucking you with his eyes in the middle of the precinct-”

“And that's a behaviour he needs to change, not me. What. Did. I. Do. Wrong?”

“What? What, you expect me to sit around here and wait for him to ask you if you can still do that thing with your tongue that makes him cum instantly? Want me to wait around for him to ask you if you're still as flexible as you were give years ago, while we have work to do?” He demanded, stepping so close you had to back up against the wall to avoid colliding with his incoming body.

“I bet you'd love to hear just about everything I can do Spencer, but if you're going to act like a jealous ass, maybe you should take a breather.”

“Jealous? You think I'm jealous?” he chuckled slightly, raising a hand slowly and pushing against the wall as he stepped, somehow, closet to you again.

“You're so obsessed with my personal life that-”

“Your personal life is not so personal when I have people asking me if I've also fucked you on a weekly basis-”

“You're being cruel. My sex life is none of your business, Spencer.”

“That's exactly what I'm trying to tell you. I'm glad we finally agree.”

He was so close you could practically taste his breath, and while your mind raged at his thoughtless words, your body wanted his to press his against it and say all of that one more time with his hand wrapped around your throat this time.

“Jackass,” you said, pushing against his chest and storming out of the room quickly, before you could make any other mistakes.

Part of you wanted to stick it to Spencer after that. Part of you wanted to do something to start an even bigger rumor, something to piss him off more, something that would get him angry and bring him closer to you somehow.

Another part aggravatingly agreed with him. Your behaviour, while nowhere near as promiscuous as half of the male staff, was judged twice as hard as anyone else's. You enjoyed sex, and you wanted to unashamedly keep enjoying sex, but every man you ran into recently had that look about them. Half judgement, half possession, like they were looking at goods to consume rather than a coworker. You weren't obtuse, but you'd allowed yourself to ignore it until Spencer made you face it, which only made you resent him more.

You stopped going on dates, stopped entertaining the men in the office when they flirted with you. You put your head down, and you worked, and it frustrated you to no end.

You ended up snappy in the office, short with every single coworker and not just Reid, who was also (inexplicably) short with you. You'd done what he'd asked, and he was still not satisfied.

Emily, sensing the tension, tried to ease the situation slightly, with a mandatory team dinner, volunteering Rossi for dinner duty.

“Welcome to Casa Del Rossi, keep your hands off the pasta until I serve it, and please do not ask about the wine unless you want to be talking about it all night.”

You felt slightly uncomfortable being forced to play happy families under the watchful eye of 5 profilers and an incredibly perceptive tech support girl, but you tried to be civil over dinner.

Until you couldn't be.

“So, Y/N, any dates recently?” Emily laughed over a sip of wine, genuinely curious about your sudden lack of suitors.

“No,” you said, locking eyes with Spencer, who rolled his eyes as he looked away.

“What, not even a single hinge match?” JJ added, and you suddenly regretted not telling any of your other coworkers the root of your tension with Reid, because they were happily digging your grave.

“Come on, we all love your stories, Y/N,” Penelope laughed, prodding you with a finger as you smiled feebly.

“No, not all of us do,” Spencer mumbled under his breath, still loud enough that the room fell silent.

“Relax, Doctor Reid, I'm not going to regale you with tales of my conquests.”

“Good, I get enough of that in the male bathrooms,” he said, standing up from the table and excusing himself.

You stared slack jawed at him as he walked away, simmering anger getting ready to explode. You stood as well, and followed him, aware of every set of eyes watching you intently as you searched for Spencer.

You found him in a spare room, following him in and closing the door behind you with a thud so he would know you were there.

“What the fuck is your problem, Spencer?”

“Oh, it was Doctor Reid earlier, but now we're friends, huh?” he said, not bothering to look at you as he picked up a book and sat in a chair at the edge of the room.

“You can't just disrespect me in front of the team like that, and… and what? Slink away to read?”

He looked up at you with an annoyed glance, and you almost lunged at him. You'd probably be able to gouge out an eye before he could react if you wanted.

“You know, when we first talked about this, I was seriously worried for you. The way those men talk about you-”

“How do they talk about me? What do they say about me specifically that's any worse than usual misogynistic bathroom talk, huh?”

You stepped closer, leaning over him and poking his chest. You wanted him to react, wanted him to get angry. You wanted a fight, not for him to walk away shaking his head in resignment.

“You really want to know?”

“Yes. I'm a big girl, tell me what's so bad that has you acting like such a spoiled brat.”

“Okay. Okay, fine.” Putting down the book, he looked up at you, locking eyes with you as he started.

“They talk about how well you take it. How much you love cock, and how if they got the chance they'd fill you up with so much cum you'd be leaking for days. Some of them even talk about using you as a human toilet.”

“They mostly talk about your body, about how flexible you are, about how flexible they'd force you to be, how-” he had to stop to look away, clear his throat and start again.

“Mostly they talk about your lips,” he said, finally risking a look down at them before dragging his eyes back up to your own.

“My lips?” you asked, mentally scolding yourself when you hear the breathy whisper you let out.

“They talk about your lips a lot. I'm sure you can imagine.”

You take a second to think about it, reeling at how close he was, how open he was being, how….

How turned on you were hearing these words fall from his mouth. Every sentence from his mouth felt like a confession.

“I don't believe them though,” he said finally.

“What?”

“I don't believe them. I don't believe you're as good as they say you are, as they're fantasising about you being.

Your mouth opened in shock, and the indignity of the accusation had your heart beating out of your chest.

“Say that again,” you demanded, forcing him to meet your eyes again.

“You're not that good, Y/N. I'm sure of it.”

Quickly, you snaked your arm up and around his neck, grabbing him and pulling him down to meet your lips. You'd hoped to take him by surprise, to enter his mouth as he lost himself in the feel of you pressed against him. You'd hoped for the upper hand, until you realized you'd played right into his.

He kissed back immediately, hotly, insistently. His hands roamed your body for any hold of you they could find, settling on your waist and your ass as he pushed you back into the wall you stood in front of.

Frustrated by his attitude, you pushed back, twisting your bodies around until you'd switched positions, nails digging into the tender skin at his collarbone. You wanted to grab him hard enough to draw blood, you wanted to permanently scar him to remind him how good this felt.

He growled into the kiss, and you momentarily lost focus. He swung you around again, hands pushing your shirt up and roughly grabbing your boobs as he bit down on your lower lip.

With a moan, you hiked a leg up around his hips, rolling into him as he pinned you to the wall.

Your final act of defiance was pushing him away with all your strength.

Taken aback, he stumbled once or twice before hitting a dresser behind him. It shook, and with the tremors, the lamp that had been sat on it fell to the floor with a crash.

You stared at him panting as your coworkers ran to you both, opening the door with a loud bang as they assessed the situation.

You kept your eyes on him as Emily scolded you both, putting the two of you on BAU time out.

You quickly left the party after that, apologising to Rossi and tucking your tail firmly between your legs as you retreated.

Desk duty for the next two weeks was exactly the punishment you were expecting from Emily. Honestly it was what you deserved. If you couldn't play nice together, you weren't allowed to play at all.

You sat at your desk, and Spencer sat at his, and you were happy and content to ignore him for as long as physically possible.

Unfortunately, your sudden voluntary celibacy must have been driving you insane, because you couldn't stop picturing his hands on your waist, his hot lips tracing down your neck, your hips pushed so close you could practically feel his cock begging to be inside you.

Imagining.

You were sure your staring was making the man uncomfortable, or at the very least frustrated. You saw the vein in his neck jump out when he noticed you looking at him, but it didn't help too much to dispel the sudden and aggravating attraction you felt towards him.

You wanted to be angrier. Every interaction you entered needing to be angry.

Instead you found yourself somewhat softening based purely on lust, and it was eating you up.

You were not a pushover, and contrary to popular office belief, neither were you desperate or easy. One kiss with a coworker shouldn't have you trailing after him like a forlorn love struck child.

Spencer was definitely avoiding you though.

At first, he justified it to himself as giving you space, an apology of sorts after you'd been so brash before.

Then he came clean to his own conscious and realized he was afraid of another confrontation. Afraid was perhaps the wrong word, eagerly anticipating might be better, though when he tried to explain it to Penelope it didn't come out right at all.

“It's like- Okay, so we're like water and potassium, right?”

“You've lost me lover boy, I do computers not sciency science.”

“Potassium and water are both stable enough on their own. They do their job well, they work nicely.”

“Potassium is in potatoes, ergo they are in French fries. They work superbly.”

“Yes, but when you put potassium in water it has a tendency to catch on fire and explode.”

Penelope still looked at him confused, unsure what kind of avoidance excuse he was crafting in his mind.

“I'm potassium. She's water,” he said again to no avail.

“I need to avoid her so I don't explode.”

“What makes you think you're going to explode? Just talk to her nicely. Avoid topics you think are going to be more… reactive?”

Spencer just solemnly nodded and went back to avoidance.

He realized quickly that the only thing he'd ever talked to you about outside of working hours was your sex life, and that made him feel like both a creep and a pervert and also like he needed to take a long cold shower before quitting his job and moving into a cabin somewhere in the woods. But he wasn't Gideon, so he just suffered through it, leaving rooms you entered and ending work related conversations as quickly as possible, before his mouth could move quicker than his brain.

After a week of being swiftly dodged, you had the chance finally to corner him and you took it.

Watching as Spencer stood to get himself another coffee from the break room, you stood, grabbed your own mug and quietly followed him. You prayed to God that the room would be empty, but were quickly forsaken by the door when you heard two make voices inside.

“So Y/N, huh?” an unfamiliar voice asked, tone polite but playful.

“I've heard some stories about that one,” he chuckled, and even the sound of it set your hair on edge.

“She's a very hard worker,” Spencer simply answered, as you heard him preparing his own coffee.

“She certainly makes working hard,” the man slapped his back, taking a sip of coffee.

“I heard you two have been going at it in the office. Strange foreplay, but she must be into rough stuff like that, isn't that right?”

You'd heard enough men talking about you in your life to be used to it, but a flush of anger still ran through you at the man's insinuations. You almost walked in to embarrass the man when Spencer spoke up.

“I don't like your tone,” he said calmly, and continued quickly when the man tried to joke again. “I have been to prison, you work in white collar, let's see which of us comes out of the kitchen in better shape when you're done speaking.”

“You're fucking insane.”

“You're what, 35? From the looks of it, your marriage is over because you keep playing with your ring uncomfortably, probably because you're cheating, but you feel just guilty enough about it to worry about your kids. They lied by the way, your not the world's no. 1 dad. Even if such metrics could be determined, you'd rank low on the list. Is it their babysitter or their teacher you're sleeping with? Or your wife's sister, perhaps?”

“You're crossing a line, Dr Reid, I don't know how-”

“Well, I'm glad you seem to understand boundaries well enough. There are lines you cross, and ones you respect, and if I hear anything at all unprofessional from you about my coworker again, I will use the last six months of my experiences to make life difficult for you.”

You walked in quickly, hearing the change in Spencer's tone from casual to something more threatening, more desperate. The other man had two fistfuls of Spencer's shirt, though you didn't doubt Spencer would easily be able to floor the man.

“Good afternoon,” you said quickly, just loud enough to be heard above the thick tension filling the room. “I believe you were just leaving, right?”

You looked to the unfamiliar man, and the shame burned his face as you forced him out of the room. As soon as he was gone, you walked over to Spencer, finished making his coffee as he stood silently next to you, eyes refusing to meet yours.

You put the hot drink in his hand, smoothed his shirt out and whispered a quick thank you before retreating back to your desk.

After that, you didn't get closer.

You thought you would. You tried to follow him to the kitchen to actually have the talk you wanted in the days that followed, but you never quite managed it.

You'd just stand together in equitable silence making your coffees. Sometimes you'd talk about the weather. About the case. About things your coworkers did that you both found funny. About shows and books you both liked. About whatever random fact Spencer became enthusiastic about that day, or whatever noir movie he'd seen the previous day.

You didn't become closer, but you grew used to one another.

When the team finally came back, Emily patted herself on the back for a job well done for keeping the two of you grounded. You begrudgingly admitted to yourself that while Spencer lacked tact, you should've been more patient with him when he was asking you to be careful.

You'd heard him similarly chastising a handful of men since, always careful just to listen until he was done, and then clean up afterwards.

Spencer found his anger closer to the surface after prison than it had been before prison. Instead of sympathy or words, his fists always tightened into balls when anything displeased him. He wanted desperately to hit colleagues sometimes, and kept his breathing steady enough to reply with violent words rather than violent actions.

He couldn't blame his experiences in prison for everything, of course. Part of the blame was yours.

As much as he knew potassium and water weren't a safe combination, he found himself wanting to be dropped back into that pool once again. Looking at you was like setting himself on fire, remembering your bodies twinned together was like a little explosion.

He didn't know what brought him to your door, but he knew it was an inevitable reaction, one in a long chain.

“Spencer?” you asked, meeting him at your door, wrapped only in a loose robe and the too small, too flimsy sleep set you'd taken to sleeping in in the summer months.

“Hi,” he said, a little awkwardly, as if gaining the courage to knock on your door was the end of his plan, and he didn't know what the next steps were.

“Hey. Why are you…?” Here. Standing at your door looking so hot after you'd stayed obsessed with him for the last week.

“Why are you holding a bottle of wine?”

“Oh. Oh this. This is for you. To drink. Its for us to drink together, really, I… I wanted to apologise.”

You welcomed him in silently and quickly. Quickly still, you made your way to the kitchen, grabbed two glasses and a bottle opener and made your way back to your sofa where Spencer was standing awkwardly still.

“Please sit down,” you said, craning your neck to look up at him as he gently handed you the bottle. He nodded and sat down next to you, both too close and too far away at once. You'd thought of Spencer as more of a silent apologiser. You'd expected him to just be happy and friendly with you from here on out instead of directly acknowledging anything had happened. You'd seen him bottle up so many emotions, what was a little more shame and sympathy?

Now that he was in front of you, you didn't know what to do.

“So, um. I'm sorry.”

“Yes. Yes, I know.”

The tension in the air was thick as you turned to pour two glasses of wine, waiting for him to continue.

“Thank you,” he said taking the glass you offered him in two hands before glancing at it quickly and then downing it.

“When I got out of prison, I was in a bad shape, and that isn't an excuse, it's just a fact. My brain was in overdrive, and I was on guard around all… all men specifically. The things I heard in prison weren't good, nothing nice as said about women in prison, and when I got out, and I still heard those things…” He stopped and looked away, taking another deep breath.

“I was overstepping. I was being overprotective, and overfamiliar, and jealous-”

“Spencer, stop,” you said, putting your glass down, and smiling at him reassuringly.

“I appreciate your apology, but really it's fine. I came in while you were gone and getting back to schedule when your entire team dynamic is off is hard, so of course you were going to be on edge around me and a little bit jealous of my bond with the team but-”

“The team?” Spencer stammered quickly, cutting you off as you tried to reassure him.

“You were… jealous of my place in the group. I was an outsider who took your place and then you were just a little shorter with me than you would've been if we were introduced in normal circumstances.”

“No, Y/N… I- Did you think this whole time I was jealous of you?”

He said it in his softest voice which almost hurt a little bit more.

“Yes. That's how you were behaving, you were always annoyed and-”

“Jealous. Yes. Not of you, because of you.”

You felt every single place on your body where the material of your clothes were touching your body. The distance between the two of you, already small, felt smaller still, like you were tipping over an edge towards one another when in reality you were as solid as a statue in your seats.

“Y/N, I want you,” Spencer whispered, almost little bit ashamed, a little bit scared of his confession. It was the kind of voice criminals used when confessing, a voice that seemed ashamed of its own actions. “I listened to every single word men said about you, and I wanted to rip their tongues out and feed them back to them so they wouldn't have the chance to taste you again. So they couldn't torture me with their knowledge of you.”

He stood up abruptly and took a step back, placing his wine glass down on the table and pacing a few more steps away.

“Y/N, why did you have to kiss me?” He said, almost defeated. “Why did you have to kiss me and then push me away?”

You stared at him for a second, unsure whether he wanted a real answer or not, his eyes round with desperation, but face turned away slightly, as if he couldn't bare the answer.

“To shut you up,” you whispered. He nodded at your answer and took a deep breath.

“Well, Prince, so Genoa and Lucca are now just family estates of the Buonapartes. But I warn you, if you don’t tell me that this means war, if you still try to defend the infamies and horrors perpetrated by that Antichrist-”

“Spencer? What-”

“I really believe he is Antichrist—I will have nothing more to do with you and you are no longer my friend, no longer my ‘faithful slave,’ as you call yourself! But how do you do?”

“Spencer, what are you doing, why are you- are you quoting something at me.

“If you want me to stop, you know an effective solution,” he said, kneeling to the floor and looking up at you, continuing after a moments pause.

Quickly sinking to your knees as well, you grabbed the man by the collar and brought your lips to his.

As quietly desperate Spencer had been moments before, he took your kiss as an act of submission and countered quickly. You'd come to him, you'd listened to his request, and now he wasn't going to let you get the upper hand anymore.

Pulling you into his lap, his to guess pushed into your mouth as he wrapped your legs around him, guiding your cunt over his bulge as he kept up his attack against your tongue.

You fought back, trying to push him down to no luck. He caught your hands quickly, and standing up on his knees with one hand holding your ass in place, pinned you to the floor, arms held above your head in one large, strong, nearly painful grip.

Your body shook at the sudden motion, robe falling open and satin spilling over your body, revealing a single pink, perked up nipple that he eagerly latched onto.

You moaned at the contact of his hot tongue, the cold air hitting you at the exact moment his tongue dipped, as you held in a moan.

You couldn't hold in the second or third. By four you were practically humping up into the air to chase the sensations of his body pressed against your cunt.

“Spencer-” you moaned, cut off by a choke from your own throat as he roughly ripped down the other side of your shirt, harshly tugging at your other nipple with his fingers.

“If I had more time, I'd make you cum just from this. I'll spend hours edging your sore little nipples, just to make you happy,” he whispered, and you moaned as if it were your job, as if you were some cheap whore he was paying to abuse for the night.

“Good girl,” he said, tugging your underwear to the side and rubbing you slowly, coating his digits with your juices before pushing two fingers fully inside you quickly.

“No complaints. Take everything nicely.” he said, changing the angle of his hand as he began fucking you hard with just his hands.

“Fuck, Spencer, fuck- no, no, no, you have to stop! Fuck, I'll-”

He stopped just as instructed quickly, and you grabbed his hands to still his fingers, still inside of you.

“I need… shit I need hard nos's quickly Y/N. Tell me what I can and can't do.”

You gathered your breath enough to speak, but it was breathy, your breath still uneven, your legs still twitching as you lay on your back, cunt exposed to Spencer's greedy eyes. He drew small, gently circles on your clit with his thumb as you recovered.

“W-Why?” You managed to squeak out, cunt twitching at every accidental contact between you both.

“Because I'm either going to slap you to shut you up, or fuck your face, and I do believe in letting the lady decide.”

You couldn't help the scoff that came from your mouth, even though it was followed by another hitched breath and moan as you melted beneath him.

“You wouldn't do that, you're not the type.”

“What? What type am I not?”

“Slapping, spitting, demeaning. You're too… Spencer to do any of that,” you said, slowly raising your hips to fuck his fingers once again, pracitically begging him to keep us all his hard work.

Until he withdraws his hand and pulls you back into his lap, arms locking you in place on either sides of your waist.

“If I was anyone else,” he said slowly and deliberately, “Or if I was me and I possessed the ability to do any of that, would you consent to it?”

His words were a whisper, his fingers wet and hot on your nipples as he pulled, prodded, and played with them quietly.

“Well… you wouldn't-” you moaned at a sudden hard pinch, your hips jolting as he continued abusing your nipples.

“Everyone else has. Why can't I?”

“Spencer-” Another sharp pinch cut you off, forcing your eyes down to where he had a hand gently brushing against your chest, before sharply pinching it again.

“Hmm? What was that?”

“Spencer, p-please-”

You moan again as his other hand hooks around you to slide into your panties.

Pulls you fully onto his lap as he starts playing with your clit while tugging on your nipples, and he's waiting for you to give him permission to fuck you rougher.

“Can I do those things, Y/N?”

“Spencer….”

“Use your words to answer me, not your cunt. I know you're enjoying this.”

“Y-Yes.”

“Thank you,” he said, letting a hand trail up to your neck before kissing you gently on your lips again. The softness didn't last long as he picked up the pace with his other hand again, looming over you like a monster bent to its prey. His hand moved quickly, pushing in and out of you as you writhed on the floor, breaths shallow as he controlled where you went, where you looked, how you moved, and even how you breathed.

“S-Spencer,” you choked out, hands wrapping around his between your thighs, already twitching as your first orgasm hit you, twitching as he didn't slow down, moaning as you felt wetness seeping out of you in waves.

“Good girl. Good girl, you're doing so good for me. You want me to stop?” He asked.

“Yes, I can't- I can't do it anymore- nghhhh.”

“You can. Yes, you can, baby, you can. My little whore,” his voice was soft where his hands were hot, gripping your neck tighter as you focused only on breathing, legs shaking and twitching, squirming to get away even as you wished yourself to stay put.

“Good girl,” he said again, kissing you once again as his hand on your neck eased up. “One more time? One more right, baby?”

You nodded, not trusting yourself not to scream. With an open hand he slapped your face, just hard enough to draw a moan from your lips.

“Use your words, Y/N.”

“Y-Yes, I can do one more,” Ayou moaned, unsure if the stars you were seeing were from the harshness of the slap or the overstimulation. “Please.”

“Good manners,” he said, fingers slipping out of your cunt as you started to grind into him again, as soon as you said yes to another orgasm. “But I don't think I want you to cum yet.”

Lifting your hips, he urged you to turn over, pulling a pillow under your hips to help you lift them, still trembling as you were. A soft blanket was put under your head as he pushed your hips up, your shorts and panties pulled down and not just to the side now as he took all of you in.

“So drippy and wet, just for me…” he mused, probing a finger at your pussy again, laughing when you twitched at the contact.

“They say it tastes better than it feels you know,” he said pulling his phone out of his pocket before snapping a photo of your pussy, dripping and ready for him. “Look at it, what do you think?”

He thrusts the photo in your face as he pulled his dick out, letting it rub against the folds of your pussy as you moaned into defeat.

“Y/N, come on, what do you think? Do you taste better, or feel better?”

He propped up the phone in front of you and opened the camera, clicking record quickly as he slapped your ass.

“Answer me,” he insisted, cock head rubbing furiously against your clit now, fingers clamped down on a nipple, nails digging into your waist.

“Should I fuck you or eat that little cunt?”

“I- I don't know, Spencer, I don't know please-”

“Yes, you do. What should I do?”

You cried out in pleasure as you came again, the pressure on your clit too much too soon.

“F-fuck me,” you said, exhausted but still excited.

“Good girl,” he said again, withdrawing his touch before laying down under you and bringing your cunt to his mouth.

You tried to hold yourself up, but you couldn't as he licked and sucked and nudged at your clit with his nose. He'd ignored you, prolonged your torture, and decided he needed to decide for himself.

“Spencer…” you moaned, but it was weak. He chuckled into your cunt and you clamped your thighs around his face as far as you could, but he didn't relent.

Running a finger through your pussy to pick up your cum, he pushed a single digit into your asshole as you moaned slowly and weakly, face completely squished into the floor.

He pushed in and out slowly at first stretching your ass as you began riding his face, fucking against his to gue as you got closer and closer to release. The sooner you came now, the sooner he would release you.

But Spencer stilled your hips, and slowed his own movements to a few kisses here and there, letting one finger become two as he fucked your asshole. Eventually, all contact stopped with your cunt as you hungrily fucked his fingers, the stretch uncomfortable but good.

“Good girl, you like that? You like being my little anal slut? Good girl.”

The words hit hard, as you came on his face. He pulled his hands away and pushed you onto your back again, rising up to your fsve again.

“Open,” he said, and you obeyed letting him spit your own cum back into your mouth. His tongue connected with your own as you tasted yourself, hot and heavy on his lips.

As you kissed, he pushed your legs up, knees spread and with a single, hard, rough push, filled you with his cock.

You screamed in pleasure as he cooed into your ear. “I'm sorry baby, I couldn't help it. Your cunt looked too delicious, it was begging for my dick.”

Another slow pull out, and again he pushed in hard, stealing the breath from your lungs without even needing a hand on your neck.

Grabbing his phone, Spencer angled it towards where you were hungrily taking him in.

“This cunt is mine now, okay?”

You nodded, and he slapped you again.

“Words, Y/N, I need words. Tell me whose cunt this is.”

“Its yours, Spencer, all yours,” you moaned as he picked up his pace, lifting to his knees so he could drop it all into you.

“Shit, say more. Tell me what I can do to this pussy?”

“Abuse my pussy, Spencer. Stretch me out, slap me, keep me full, fuck I don't care, breed me,” you moaned, wrapping your arms around his neck as you lifted your chest up to his, thighs wrapped around his waist, ankles locked together behind him.

“You want me to cum in you? Want me to claim you so everyone can see?” He asked, nails digging into your thighs almost hard enough to draw blood.

“Yes!”

“Good…. fucking… slut,” he saif, and with a final thrust, he emptied his balls inside you.

You didn't move for a long time, catching your breath on the floor, a pile of limbs coated in sprsys of wetness and cum.

You started rubbing your cunt again first, as he joined in again with shallow thrusts, wincing and seething as he overstimulated himself.

You came quietly that last time and waited for him to pull out and clean you up.

He didn't. Keeping himself sheathed inside you, he awkwardly lifted the two of you to the couch and pulled your head down into his chest, letting you cockwarm him as your cum soaked into the material of the couch.

“Sleep for an hour or two. You'll wake up when it's time to go again.”

When you woke, it wasn't to Spencer starting again, but instead the ring of your phone. You tried to reach for it, to silence whatever alarm had decided to disturb you at that point, but Spencer was faster.

“Hello?” he said down the line, forgetting where he was for a second before you nestled into the crook of his neck again, fingers gently tracing his collarbone.

“Spencer?” Emily asked, confused and voice tired.

“Emily?” He asked. “We have a case?” He sat you up with him crasling you in his arms as you fully woke, your muscles objecting at this sudden movement. His cock stayed buried within you as you reoriented yourself.

“Uh, yeah. We've got an hour to get to the office and debrief, then were flying out- Spencer. This is Spencer?” she asked again, voice a muddle with confusion, tone rising by the second.

“Yes, Spencer. I'll be there.”

“And Y/N?” Emily asked. “I didn't dial the wrong number, Spencer, I have you all on speed dial. You're with Y/N?”

You sat bolt upright and took the phone from Spencer quickly, the shrill ringing of Emily's voice echoing down the line.

“We’ll be there,” you practically shouted. “We just drank together and-” you pulled the hair out of your face as you felt Spencer go rigid inside you again.

“A-and that's it. See you in an hour.”

Speedily you hung up, grabbed Spencer and pressed your lips to his again, pushing him down into the couch.

[dazedantics]

It's that damn sweater.

You don't know what it is or why, but something about that guy wearing it, with that stupid yellow button up underneath, and those dumbass khakis, it does something to you.

And he rarely wears anything different. His closet is probably full of ten times the same outfit like some cartoon character.

It was stupid.

You hardly knew the guy!

But everytime he walked into class, you couldn't take your eyes off him. Thankfully you sat behind him so he couldn't see your ogling. But he could feel it. Always turning his head and looking around but finding no culprit.

You had to make your staring discreet though. From him, yeah. But if anyone else saw you looking at the geek so fascinated-like? You'd be the new laughing stock!

I mean, seriously! The guy has a whole lunch table to himself cause no one wants to be around him! And you know how full every other table gets, random people squeezing in next to each other just for a moment to eat. Even the loners get more acknowledgement than him!

You think he has like, maybe, one friend? William? Though he is pretty well liked despite the company he keeps.

Maybe he feels obligated to stay with him. Some childhood thing, like their moms being too close so it'd be awkward if they didn't talk to each other. That had to be it. No way someone would willing be that guy's friend.

There were other guys who wore similar outfits, but it looked even more ridiculous on them! What made that guy so different?

Maybe it was the specific brand his clothes came from. Or maybe he just picked colors that suited him better. Did he know color theory? A nerd like him, probably. He probably spent a whole afternoon worrying over subtle psychological ways to get people like him, desperate to get away from the loser placard that stuck to him since elementary school. Yeah, he seemed the type to care what people thought of him.

Couldn't be anything deeper like maybe you though he was way cute.

Definitely not that.

Cause you do see him outside of school often. Not cause you hang out or anything, he's not even free during those times you see him. No, it's cause you like to hang around at Burger Mart after school until someone can come pick you up.

He's there working. In his dumb little apron, with his dumb little hat, with a big dumb smile on his face, with that stupid little name tag that reads "Mark." And he has the audacity to be the one bringing you your meal. Calling out your number and handing you your grease stained paper bag. Fingers brushing yours as you take it. Giving you that stupid little nervous smile, trying to make conversation before he has to get through everyone else's orders. Isn't he the garbage boy or something? Why does he have to be the one you see everyday?

You spend a long time avoiding him before you finally crack.

You start sitting down at his table at lunch, chatting more with William and paying hardly any attention to him. You start leaning against his locker, waiting for him to get to school, just offhandedly telling him about how boring classes were the previous day. You start waiting for him to get off his shift so you two could head home (which takes a very long time, sitting back in the creaky old booths). You start helping him with his homework, noticing how he rarely does it on his own, choosing to partner with him on projects of your own volition.

And for whatever reason, he starts getting bullied less. At least, not when you can see him. Maybe people are just shocked. Maybe your presence alone has helped promote him out of the loser bin.

Or maybe you've been demoted to his level. Just on a less damning scale.

People never really ask why you started hanging around him though. Which is good for you, cause you wouldn't know how to answer them.

Eventually, you get close enough to start getting invited to his house. And the first thing you're tempted to do is check his closet to see if he has more of the same dumb sweater laying around. But you don't, cause you know you at least have to try and show you have decent respect for others.

One day though, you crack again.

It's dark, the little light on his desk providing a soft yellow glow. He's standing by his shelf, explaining who knows what about his comic collection with that big dumb smile on his face. You're not really hearing him though, zoning out as you focus on scanning him head to toe, sitting back on his bed with your legs crossed.

Then, you grab him.

Grab him by the stupid little collar on that stupid little sweater and pull him down over you. He's panicked, dropping his book to hold himself above you with both hands braced on either side of your head. You can practically hear the jackrabbiting of his heart.

He says your name quietly, wondering what you're doing.

And you start complaining to him about his damn sweater, brow curled and finger absentmindedly tracing small patterns across his chest.

You don't feel particularly nervous or excited. Oddly calm, though your voice comes out as annoyed.

Then you start going on about who knows what and he asks if you're planning to let go of him any time soon.

You pause.

His warm brown eyes seem softer than ever.

And you half expect one of his parents to walk into the room, mortified by your suggestive position.

But they don't.

You can hear the slow ticking of the clock in the corner.

And you're not sure what overcomes you. But looking up at him, that dumb sweater just so soft beneath your fingers, his big nervous smile suddenly not so dumb anymore ...

You kiss him ...

And, somehow, that guy suddenly isn't just that guy anymore.

[neeeooon]

Hiii, I loved your "when they find out they have a kid" work, so I was wondering if you can do a part 2 with other characters? Itoshi brothers and Reo + any characters you'd like. Thank you <3

YES thank you sm!! i have another req for isagi so i’m combining those (ty both for requesting) 💙💙

when they find out they have a kid, pt 2

ex-husband!bllk x fem!reader. angst, cursing, mentions of sex (no smut), rin and ness’s kids have names

itoshi sae

-> you cried the first time you saw sae on your television, because you’d just finalized your divorce, and you were four months pregnant

-> he stated specifically that he had no time for you. that marrying you was a mistake, and that he was better off on his own. you’d yelled at him then, blaming him for wasting years of your life when he knew he’d leave you eventually. he didn’t argue back, just grabbed his things and left you alone with the positive pregnancy test in your back pocket

-> three years later, you’re working on reports at the kitchen table when your son yells, “daddy!” frazzled, you jump into the other room to see what he’s watching when your blood freezes in your veins. sae. on television. doing an interview for his team. how was your son watching soccer? you’d left him with cartoons!

-> “that’s not your dad,” you tried, but your son was adamant. “we look the same, mama! he’s so cool! why doesn’t he live with us?”

-> realizing how unfair it was for you to keep a secret like this any longer, you contacted sae’s team to get his number when you identified yourself as his wife. his call came too quick, and you could hear how agitated he was to be pulled away from work

-> “what do you want, y/n?” “wow. three years since you practically abandoned me, and i don’t even get a hello?” “what do you wa—“ he repeated, cutting himself off when he heard a little voice in the background of your call. “who was that? y/n?”

-> you swallowed hard and sank into the couch, where your son was playing with a toy robot. “mama! is that daddy? hi daddy!” he tried to pull the phone from your hand, but you tightened your grip and cleared your throat into the speaker. “we have some things to discuss, next time you’re in town.” “i’ll book a flight tonight.”

itoshi rin

-> itoshi rin wasn’t made for marriage, but you thought you could change him. you practically forced his hand, and while you know you were wrong looking back, you thought marrying you was the only way for him to prove that he loved you

-> you were together a little over a year before he broke, telling you he wasn’t happy and that he didn’t want to be your husband anymore. after hearing him out, you realized there was no point in denying his request. you were divorced a week later, and found out you were pregnant a month after that

-> by that point, you thought keeping his child from him was for the best. he was clearly overwhelmed and didn’t want anything to do with you; adding a child to the mix would devastate him and his career. so you never told him

-> it took several years, but rin was one of the top strikers in the world. all the while you were raising his daughter in secret, though those closest to you could tell by her teal eyes that she wasn’t born through a one night stand, and you claimed

-> on your daughter’s sixth birthday, one of your so-called friends took a photo of you and emi and posted it, tagging rin. you tore her a new one when you found out and cut her out of your life, but the damage was done

-> we need to talk. was all his text said, and you knew there was no point in lying any further

-> “i don’t want anything from you,” you clarified as soon as you opened the door. rin had a dazed look in his eyes, eyes that matched your daughter’s perfectly. “not your money, not your time, nothing. she deleted the post and i’ve cleared it as a joke, so no harm will come to your name—“

-> “can i meet her?” and you halted at the sound of his crackling voice. you shuffled your weight. “y.. you want to meet emi?” he pulled a small plush owl from his bag that made you choke on a laugh. “i didn’t want to show up on her birthday empty handed…”

-> your daughter was a bit shy, unsure of how to react around the strange man that looked like her, and you could tell rin was just as awkward. it took a little while, but once the ice broke, the two were sharing little stories and cracking jokes that made you wonder if maybe emi could have a relationship with her father after all

mikage reo

-> you married reo on impulse, blinded by love and the belief that you’d live happily ever after together. his parents hated you since you didn’t come from wealth, but reo didn’t care. and then you got pregnant

-> you’d been excited to tell him until his parents found out. you wanted to believe that you’d never pick money over love, but reo was gone most days due to his soccer career, and you were young and stupid

-> 10 million dollars, tax-free. the only catch? you had to cut contact with their son and never tell him about his child; the next heir to mikage corp

-> you debated telling him, but again… you were young and stupid. his parents told him they’d stop supporting him financially if he stayed with you, and you worried about the future if his career didn’t take off. in tears, you took the money and blocked him on everything

-> years later, the news of reo’s marriage to a woman his parents approved of hit headlines, and you cried until your little son tried to heal you with butterfly stickers and kisses. you debated telling reo then, but what was the point?

-> you were with your son at a doctor’s appointment when a young woman arrived with three young children at her ankles. your son was older than them by at least three years, but the four wanted to play together while you and their mom drank tea in the waiting area

-> when the receptionist called “mikage?” your heart dropped. the young woman herded her kids together, who you now realized look strikingly similar to your son, and gave you her card before leaving. “so our kids can have a play date sometime! it was nice meeting you, y/n!”

-> reo’s number was on her card, next to her work cell. you knew you were breaking your nda, but your mind was running too fast as you typed in his number and pressed the phone to your ear. “this is reo.” “i… you—we have a son.” “y/n?” and you told him everything

-> he asked you not to tell his wife, and you were in agreement. “i want to meet my son.” “… okay.” and upon reo’s request, you meet with a lawyer present. your son immediately loved reo’s purple hair, and you could tell that your ex-husband’s heart broke at the sound of your son’s laughter

-> once you were alone, reo handed you a sheet of paper that made you nauseous. “i want partial custody.”

isagi yoichi

-> you and isagi were together for years, dating with no issue, but the moment you got married… everything changed. you fought constantly over everything: finances, trust, communication, everything

-> it got to the point where you were living apart more than together, and when the divorce papers arrived in the mail, you sent the back signed. you didn’t know you were pregnant, and with how unknowingly far along you were, you figured telling him wouldn’t change anything in your relationship

-> so, you raised your daughter as a single mother. you never did see isagi since that day in court, where you finalized your divorce. despite how much you argued over finances, isagi let you keep the house and everything in it as a parting gift. the same house your daughter took her first steps in

-> “oh, um.. sorry, kid! i thought this was isagi yoichi’s place—y/n?” you pushed your five year old behind you, hoping bachira didn’t get too good a look at her. your hopes died when he met your eyes, a bit amused. “hm. i didn’t know isagi had a daughter.” “who’s isagi?” “.. i guess he doesn’t, either. y/n?”

-> bachira was in town after years and decided to visit his old friend on a whim, not realizing that isagi no longer lived with you. you knew there was no point in telling him to keep this from your ex, but your daughter absolutely loved “uncle” bachira

-> he told you he’d be over again today, but your smile fell when you opened the door and came face to face with isagi. he didn’t say anything as he shoved his phone in your face, revealing a selfie of your beaming daughter holding a peace sign next to bachira

-> “y/n, what the fuck? how could you… is she mine?” he didn’t know why he was asking; your daughter was the spitting image of her dad. she even had his little cowlick, which she named “bernice” for reasons beyond you. “she’s yours.” “how could you not tell me? i know things didn’t end perfectly, but there was a time where you were my best friend, y/n. the love of my life!”

-> bachira appeared after that and took your daughter to play outside and away from her arguing parents. “and then you tell bachira before me. the fuck?” “i didn’t tell bachira, he found out on his own,” you shouted back. “maybe if you cared enough to check in at least once in the past five years, you’d have figured it out, too!”

-> “i want to meet her.” “no. you’re too riled up right now. go home, get some rest, come over in the morning. i won’t spring you on her without a warning.” “spring me on her? i’m her father!” “you’re a stranger!” “and whose fault is that, y/n?”

alexis ness

-> ness was so scared of ruining his marriage to you that he ran away from the responsibility and took a backseat ride in your relationship. one thing was certain from day one, though. neither of you wanted kids

-> your job demanded a lot from you, and that paired with your co-dependent husband overwhelmed you. you felt that you’d die in your marriage, and though he begged you to stay, you were able to convince ness to divorce you

-> you were going to tell him the moment you found out you were pregnant, but when you found him, he had thrown himself into his career to manage his grief and was thriving. more than that, he looked happy. though you didn’t want to take that away from him, it would be a lie to say that you didn’t have selfish reasons for keeping your child secret, too

-> “come on, mila,” you called for your four-year-old as you fastened her car seat. you should have checked to see where bastard münchen was playing before leaving the house, especially since the aquarium was close to the arena

-> when your daughter didn’t respond, you glanced back and gasped. mila was tilting her head at the man across the street, who was doing the same at her. she waved, he waved back. you would have freaked out if you didn’t recognize the magenta dye in the guy’s brown hair

-> grabbing your daughter, you hoisted her up into your arms and locked eyes with ness. he looked so incredibly sad, but flashed you a slow, almost kind smile. then, before you could stop and think, you were at the crosswalk

-> “lex,” you greeted, voice sounding foreign in your ears. “it’s been a while.” “hi, lex,” mila greeted in a soft and sweet voice, and you watched as ness’s eyes began to sparkle. “hi, um…” “mila.” “hi, mila. i like your nose.” mila giggled. “me too. it looks like yours!”

-> “could i buy you coffee?” you asked, tossing the olive branch out. ness didn’t hesitate long before replying with a cracking, “yes.”

pt 1 // pt 3 // reo pt cont..

[muqingslover]

here I am thinking about goofy/strange habits each lads LI have when the two of you share a bed.

First and foremost he is getting in bed with you no matter what.

If you're on the couch then he WILL find a way to fit and snuggle with you it's like cats are liquid theory.

Xavier likes to slip his hands under your clothes to feel your warmth directly.

He'd lay his hand flat against your tummy and let his thumb gently brush the soft skin while he relaxed.

The real problem is that, in more than one occasion, you wake up with his hands on your boobs.

Be it small, medium sized or big, he doesn't care. He is not doing anything just holding them for some reason while fast asleep.

He likes to sniff you like a dog.

Sylus will pull you close against his chest after getting in bed and then he just sniff sniff

You told him multiple times to stop that but he can't help himself. I mean, what you don't know can't hurt you, right?

He finds comfort in your scent. It's specific to you and he absolutely loves it.

Even more so after you use his bath products so you start smelling like him and that makes him feel all fuzzy.

He will nibble on you like you're his personal chew toy. Don't freak out when you find red spots and teeth marks all over your skin the next day.

At times you may also find yourself being crushed to death by his very large and very heavy body. Don't worry though, just tap him a few times and he'll roll off of you.

In conclusion, Sylus is a very big dog with wings.

This guy has a HANDFUL of bad habits like I could make a post just for him.

One of them is that he watches you sleep. And I mean watch.

The entire time he's so focused on your slumbering form that you'd think he was watching the most entertaining TV show in the world.

You have mini heart attacks whenever you wake up in the middle of the night and see him just....looming over you like a sleep paralysis demon.

You definitely socked him in the face by reflex once or twice. He's fine, he dodged it anyway.

It's not nearly as bad as to when the neighbors came to check in after you screamed bloody murder.

Additionally, Caleb takes pictures of you and has you losing hairs because he refuses to delete them

"Oh c'mon! You look sooo cute!"

Do yourself a favor and dose his drink so he'll leave you alone for the night./hj

This guy is the worst roommate ever.

Just kidding I love him.

He is very annoying though because his bad habit is to wake you up.

If he can't sleep then he's making it everybody's problem, including you.

He will hold your nose or be purposely loud so you wake up and then give him you the most fake nonchalant "Oh, did I disturb your afternoon nap?" "...It's 2 in the morning." "Well, since we're both awake now anyway—"

Literally not a single peaceful night of sleep unless he's asleep as well. It's like having a toddler.

My suggestion? Lock him in the bathroom while he's in the bathtub and enjoy your beauty sleep. You have at least four hours before he notices.

He has no bad habits.

He will let you sleep as he should and just makes sure you're tucked in and comfortable. Top tier gentleman.

If I was to pick one is the fact he sleeps like a statue and scares the life out of you because of how stiff he is.

He sleeps on his back like a mummy and doesn't move at all throughout the night.

It's similar to when cats fall deep asleep and you can't wake them up so you think they're dead.

Just make sure he's breathing and bring him in to cuddle and everything's gonna be fine.

[plethorawrites]

How the Batboys would react to finding out and dealing with you self harming/having severe depression.

TW: Mentions of cuts, blood, suicidal thoughts, incorrect use of pills, sort of implied eating disorders.

Please don't read if this could upset you in any way.

---___---___---___---___---___---___---___---___---_

Bruce:

The first time he notices is also the first time you spend the night. The lights were dark and you were both a bit buzzed after downing several glasses of champagne to endure a boring event he invited you to as an excuse to see you. Of course he was more concerned with kissing the inside of your thighs than noticing the little healed scars on them.

He notices them the next morning though, when the sun is streaming through the window and you get up to find your clothes while assuming he's asleep. He wasn't. He saw the marks. The scars. He refrained from saying a word about them, waiting weeks for you to open up about them on your own terms. He could see they were healed so he wasn't terribly worried at that moment.

When you finally told him, you said you'd been clean for months. He had no reason to suspect you would start again.

But you did.

He didn't know the exact day, or the specific reason, all he knew is that you stopped wearing shorts to bed and stopped letting him leave the lights on to see you when you were intimate. You stopped smiling as often, too.

Of course, being a detective, he can tell when you start getting lethargic, not from work or stress but simply life itself. He hears when your words have less meaning, and your expressions are false. He makes it his mission to not let you fall into the spiral any more than you already have.

You might not want to tell him you're hurting yourself but he'd be damned if he didn't do whatever he could to make you stop. That started by holding you tighter at night so you couldn't sneak off to the bathroom to cut, he'd ask you to visit him at work, insist on every meal being at a restaurant so you didn't even have time to try to hurt yourself. And of course, he helps with the tasks you start struggling with, but pretends he doesn't notice.

He just says "Can I practice braiding your hair so I can help Cassandra?" and use it as a chance to make sure you don't start letting your hair tangle.

He even makes the braid a bit crooked even though he can French braid perfectly, just to sell it. He'll wash it, too, claiming it's: "A good excuse to spend time together." after a long day.

He just wants to make sure it's not getting greasy. He can see the guilt on your face when you sit in the tub, staring at the wall. You wanted to tell him to stop, that you could wash your own hair. But you probably couldn't. It felt like too much work and you just wanted to sink underneath the water of the tub for a few minutes of peace. He kept you upright though, kissing the back of your shoulder, the side of your neck, your cheek, making you hum.

You weren't able to feel much, emotionally speaking, but you could feel gratitude and love.

When he notices you skipping meals because you can't drag yourself to the kitchen or bother to cook, he will. He'll make anything, even if you change your mind about what sounds good and make him cook six different dishes before eventually accepting one of them. He doesn't care. He just wants you to eat. The second you show the slightest bit of interest in something, anything, it's yours. You make a comment about the beach sounding nice, the next thing you know he's taken the day off work and is driving you there with the top of a convertible down.

You say you kind of miss one of your old hobbies— be it painting or crochet, it doesn't matter what, the next day the nicest stuff for you to get back into it arrives. Fresh paints, massive canvases or imported yarn and crystal hooks. He watches, intently when you start to focus on something you like again, the heavy ache in his heart subsiding when he gets to show enthusiasm about your project when it's done.

You start holding him again at night, your face buried in his chest instead of sleeping facing the wall. One night you slide into bed wearing shorts and he can see your scars, red ones among the old faded pale ones from when you first met.

He knows they'll heal too in time. Just like you have.

---

Dick: He doesn't realize there's anything wrong several months into dating you until he catches you taking some pills when he was walking back into the room and later searched up the name, figuring out they're antidepressants.

He can't believe he didn't see it sooner and hates that you were always putting on a fake smile with him. He wants you to talk about it, but understands that it's hard for you too and your every attempt to open up to him ends with you in tears or walking out in frustration because the words won't form.

He suggests (very strongly) that you see a therapist and after some gentle coaxing, you agree. He sits in the car the entire time waiting for you and when you come out, numb for a few minutes as you sit there in silence before sobbing uncontrollably for the 20 minutes in the parking lot. He gets you whatever you want after— ice cream, cheesecake, brownies. Whatever you're craving.

He takes you every week, sometimes multiple times a week. He never complains and he's ALWAYS there. He'll wake up early, even if he barely slept. He'll skip family lunch, he'll rush out of a bank robbery just shouting for his brothers to handle it without him. It doesn't matter what, he'll be there.

He's taken to heavy positive affirmations, as well. He puts sticky notes up in the bathroom with smiley faces for whenever you brush your teeth or put on moisturizer. There are little hearts and words of encouragement on the front of the fridge and inside of it too for when you manage to crave a snack. Hopefully something healthy like fruit, but even if it's junk food, it's better than an empty stomach.

Every morning he wakes you up and tells you you're beautiful and he's grateful to have you.

He likes to remind you not to push yourself as well. "If you just manage to wash your hair, you'll have done something" and "If that's too hard, I'll help you make the bed." But also..."If you don't do anything at all today, you still survived. That alone is difficult, but you're doing it."

Every night he lays it on even thicker because he knows it gets harder at night. "I'm so proud of you for making it through another day." And... "I know it sucks right now but I promise I'll help you get through this." And... "Just take it one day at a time."

When you get homework from your therapist— to do 3 hard tasks over one week, make a list of every negative and positive thought to see them out loud and deduce why you have them, physical exercise—he does it with you. No matter how foolish or seemingly simple it is.

Your therapist told you to do something you struggle with? Done. He'll stand behind you while you do the dishes and help you dry.

You need to get something from a store that's dozens of miles away? Road trip. He'll buy the snacks and take turns driving so you don't het stressed out burn out.

You're told to get some physical exercise? He'll be your partner for whatever kind you want to do. Jogging in the park, keeping a slower pace than usual for you, practicing on rings while you climb the stairmaster—he falls, because he's distracted by your ass. But that's besides the point.

When you start to show signs of feeling better, that therapy is working, he's elated. And after several months and things are better, much better, you tell him whenever you're feeling off. Whenever that nagging feeling comes back over you. You guys work through it then and there to keep it from getting bad again.

Though sometimes, when he's leaving for work, you'll pout and say you feel sad just to get him to stay. You both know it's not a depressed feeling. You just don't want him to leave and he'll indulge you. "Oh, well, if that's the case, I'll just have to stay in bed with you until you feel better."

---

Jason: He's busy. Always. But that didn't mean he was oblivious. Yet, that's exactly how he felt when he realized you'd been abusing your medicine. He knew after the first few dates that you were on medication for chronic depression and he was more than understanding about it. Millions of people suffered from it, himself occasionally included.

But when he's laying in bed and catches you sneaking into the bathroom to take three more pills than you're supposed to, he's caught off guard. Then you slide down to the floor, sitting crisscrossed, making small cuts on your thighs, wincing in pain the entire time. It takes every ounce of self control not to jump out of bed and rip the blade from your hand. He contemplates it, he really does. But that would just make things worse. So he waits.

It keeps him up all night, though he pretends to sleep. And in the morning, you're back out of bed, taking more and sliding back in bed, pretending to wake up just like him.

He blames himself entirely.

He thinks he should have been better, done more, noticed something that made it better. It was his job to support you and protect you and he had failed and that killed him in ways that seemed unimaginable.

After an incredibly difficult conversation where he confesses to knowing you've been filling scripts you don't need and taking more than necessary, you're both an emotional mess. But he assures you he's not leaving or angry, just scared for you. He wants to help but needs you to let him.

He absolutely dedicates himself to keeping you away from anything even remotely dangerous.

The knives in the kitchen? Gone.

Even the butter knives are plastic now.

The razors in the bathroom? Thrown out in a trashcan outside so you couldn't find them.

Even the little blade in the pencil sharpener is taken out.

He won't let you have your pill bottles either, at least not at first. He makes sure you take them everyday, morning and night, then after several weeks starts to let you handle them by yourself.

He still sneaks out of bed to count them and make sure you weren't taking more than prescribed. He insists on being the one to wrap your arms, cleaning them to make sure they don't get infected. And wiping your legs as well. He has to remind himself not to squeeze them too hard, the way he wants to.

While holding you at night he makes sure not to hurt them, even though he wants to hold you much tighter to comfort himself as reassurance you're alright. He listens, late at night when you're whispering to avoid crying. When you explain the feeling it gave you. He knows it.

Once they heal and he can hold you tighter, not as afraid of hurting you by squeezing your thighs the way he likes to. He starts kissing them each night, making sure you know they're not embarrassing or shameful.

He's got scars on most of his body; you were the one to teach them to appreciate them. If he could return the favor, he would. A thousand times over.

He tells you the same things you told him. "You made it through."

---

Tim: When you tell Tim, and by tell I mean confess after he figured it out on his own, you're surprised to find that he doesn't have much of a reaction immediately. He stays quiet, hums a little, nods along. He never interrupts but you see his eyes glazing over a bit, the way they do when the gears start turning in his head. He knew, of course, that you had depression.

He knew you hurt yourself, not in the traditional way of cutting or attempting suicide, but in much subtler ways, like forcing yourself to finish a meal even though you're full and your stomach hurts, taking boiling hot showers that leave your skin red and raw practically painful to even touch from how dry it is, making yourself stay up late and function on the fewest hours of sleep possible.

You purposely made life harder for yourself and for the most part, didn't even realize it. He did, though. What he didn't realize was the amount of medicine you'd tried, to the point you felt none of them worked, the amount of therapists and psychiatrists you had seen, the level of depression you had truly sunk to before. It hurt him to realize once you started opening up. He wanted to make that pain go away. So, he researched. Constantly.

He wants to know every single thing that can cause depression, the statistics of self harm leading to suicide, the effectiveness of different treatments or facilities. He knows every antidepressant, their side effects, their manufacturers, and dosages. He suggests inpatient care for you, but absolutely refuses to send you to someplace like Arkham.

Instead, he finds the best of the best, way out of the city, where the entire staff passed his background check, the facility was up to date on every code possible, and the rules seemed relaxed enough to let you feel like yourself while also making sure you're safe. He's allowed to visit and does so as soon as possible, even manages to get extra hours in the night. You have the best of care there, too, he knows because he can see it on your face every time he's there.

The food is wonderful, the private room you have is nice (even if you miss his warmth at night), the activities they make you do remind you of the hobbies you used to love before they became unbearable. Even therapy sessions, always private because Tim knew you wouldn't want to speak about it in a group, are rather helpful.

When you get out after a few weeks, he's right there, waiting, like always. And he's got the biggest smile because he can see immediately the light back in your eyes that he missed so much. He keeps up with some of the tactics you learned or hobbies you started while there, gladly sitting on the floor with you while you do paper mache.

He always makes sure you know you're not weak for needing help and if you ever feel like you need to go back, even just for a week, or weekend, he'll be there for you. Just like always.

---

(Aged up. I imagine you both in LOA)

Damian: It didn't take a genius to know you were a miserable person. Most people in the league of assassins were. He rather liked your level of misery, usually. It was cynical, with a touch of wit and dark humor that always made him feel seen.

It wasn't until he caught sight of a few scars on your calf that he didn't recognize that he started to realize you were more miserable than he had originally thought. You tried to play it off, claiming you got hurt in a sparring match. But that was a lot and he knew it. Because A) you never lost. And B) the cut was at an angle a sword wouldn't be able to reach unless you were the one holding it.

You clearly didn't want to talk about it, so he wouldn't make you. He was always taught that emotions were weak and even though he didn't fully believe it as he used to, he still isn't big on a lot of sentimentality. Which is fine, because you aren't either.

He still keeps a quiet, very close eye on you. Maybe you noticed, maybe you didn't. He wasn't sure. He didn't care either way. He was worried and with your recent behavior, he felt he had every right to be. You started putting in less effort during training, if you even showed up at all. He'd find you on the balcony at night, leaning your head against the railing and staring at the gardens with a blank expression.

Even the things he knew you loved— your favorite foods, the music you liked to listen to on a record player while you got ready for bed. It stopped appealing to you. The meticulous way you'd fix your hair before bed every single night abruptly stopped, too. You simply fell asleep with it as is and woke up with it tangled. You still held him at night, but it felt less like an embrace for the both of you and more like you were clinging to him like a life line.

He pays extra close attention and anytime he isn't allowed to be by your side, he makes sure someone else is. It's hard to keep you away from sharp objects, given nearly everything around them was a weapon, but he tries to get you to vent your rage by cutting training dummies and not yourself.

He also takes you to the quieter, more secluded wing, into an empty room with pillows on the floor. He makes you sit with him and meditate, which he knows is hard at first, boring and you don't have the most energy, but he holds your hand, his fingers pressed to your pulse to make sure you're listening when he tells you to take a deep breath in and think— not of what you're grateful for, like some might suggest. No. Instead of asking you what you want to live for, he asks you what you can't die without. The grudges you're holding, the projects you haven't finished, the people who are just waiting to see you fail. He won't let you let them win.

And it works. That passion and drive slowly comes back with his help and support at your side, doing your hair for you at night and making sure someone brought you a meal three times a day even if he wasn't around to make sure you ate. Your need to be the best and spite anyone who thinks you aren't returns after a while.

One night he finds you training alone, sweat dripping from your brow, your scars both won in battle and self inflicted on display. Instead of interrupting, he simply watches, admiring your form which had improved since you started picking up your sword more often. He loved watching you find your spirit again.

[sednas]

─ BIRTHDAY GIRL

gojo, geto, nanami, toji x fem!reader (separately)

trigger warning: overstimulation, dirty talk (geto), use of handcuffs (nanami), public s!x, degradation (toji)

༘♡ 𝐆𝐎𝐉𝐎

you wake up by the feeling of a soft tongue running against the skin of your inner thigh. opening your eyes slowly, the first thing you see is gojo's face, squishing his cheek against your thigh, lazy blue eyes watching you with a glint of adoration.

"morning beautiful." he whispers just before placing a kiss over your clothed pussy.

"w-what time is it?" you ask weakly, your legs already slightly trembling.

"who cares? today's your birthday, we can do whatever you want, we got all day..."

you watch him slowly raise his eyes at you again, smirking mischievously and you can feel his hot breath against you.

"so..." he begins to talk while running his fingertips along the curve of your hips. "what do you want, mmh?"

he's really asking that when his lips are a few centimeters away from your pussy.

"your mouth, I want your mouth..." you whisper to him and he smirks again.

"where? here?" he teases, taking your hand to kiss the back of it. "be more specific baby or else I can't give it to you..." he laughs at your disappointed face and whines a little as you gently tug at his white hair to bring him closer to where you need him most.

"hereeee satoru, need you here." you almost groan in frustration, lifting your hips in the air in a needy way.

"oh here?~" he murmurs just before kissing your hidden pussy, this time using his tongue to wet the soft fabric of your panties.

you feel the tip of his tongue circles around your clit and it makes you shiver, your eyes are already rolling back even though he barely touched you.

gojo loves to tease you, sometimes he makes you beg just for a kiss, but today's your birthday, so he will be nice, at least at first.

bonus:

he brings you gifts in the morning. a lot of gifts. even more than usual. clothes, jewelry, perfumes, flowers, books, nintendo switch, pokemon cards, anything you want, he got it.

༘♡ 𝐆𝐄𝐓𝐎

you know your boyfriend has a thing for edging you. he likes to deny you for hours and hours, makes you cry and beg in frustration until you sound like a broken record, saying "please" over and over again... he just loves it when you're so horny and sensitive that he could make you cum just by blowing air on your pussy. but on special occasions, he likes to do the opposite, it's his way of spoiling you on your special day. he's so nice isn't he?

"su-suguru wait! you're... you're being mean!" you cry out, your trembling body trapped against his chest.

"I don't think your pussy agrees with you sweetheart, look how she's spasming when I remove my hand, she wants more..." he mocks with a wicked grin.

your skin burns with embarrassment at his words, talking about your genitals as if they were a real person. you'd be jealous if you weren't so overstimulated right now.

slowly, he puts two of his fingers inside you again and you moan at how full you feel just with his fingers alone.

he brings his mouth closer to your ear and you get goosebumps through your whole body, his lips almost touching your skin.

"come on lovely, give me one more I know you can." he whispers as he licks your earlobe.

"too much... can't..."

you squirm between his arms, your left hand desperately holding onto his forearm as his muscles flex while he pumps his fingers in and out of your pussy, his thumb toying with your clit. he clicks his tongue in disapproval and lifts your chin up so he can look at your face.

"you can still talk now can't you? mmh... looks like you're still using that brain of yours, let's fix that sweetheart."

while fingering you, he slides the thumb of his other hand in your mouth and you start sucking on it without even thinking, half lidded eyes trying to focus, your vision blurry as you can feel your sixth orgasm of the night coming. he smiles, flicking your clit a bit more harshly.

"cum sweet girl, you deserve to feel really good on your birthday."

bonus:

he takes you to your favorite restaurant <3 and he's smart enough to fuck you AFTER your date unlike toji 💀

༘♡ 𝐍𝐀𝐍𝐀𝐌𝐈

"what is it? already giving up?" he asks and he smiles when you shake your head. "that's my girl."

nanami knows how to listen, it's one of the main reasons why you fell in love with him. he listens and remembers everything you tell him. so of course he remembered when you confessed that some day you'd like to be tied up to his bed during sex. and tonight, for your birthday, he has decided to indulge that fantasy of yours. at first he thought it was a bit silly, the smile on your face when he handcuffed you to the headboard of the bed made him laugh a little. it's only when he finds himself kneeling between your legs, facing you, watching your eyes darken with lust and the way you're already tugging at your restraints that he realizes his position. he has you under him, completely helpless, at the mercy of his teasing touch and his insatiable mouth as you impatiently wait for him and he suddenly feels like the luckiest man in the world. he caresses your thighs lovingly and starts to kiss your stomach, making his way up to your chest to bury his face in your sweet tits, licking and giving gentle bites to your soft skin. you whimper and squirm, quickly realizing how frustrating your little fantasy is going to be and he seems to notice.

he keeps kissing your body until his lips meet your own, taking your breath away with a sloppy kiss and you gasp in his mouth when you feel his knee against your pussy.

"work for it baby, show me how much you want me." he orders, his voice soft but firm and you can only obey.

swaying your hips, you start grinding against his knee, softly moaning, looking away with embarrassment when you see him looking down at you, hypnotized by the way you're moving your body.

"you're doing such a good job baby, keep going, wanna know how desperate you can get for me."

bonus:

nanami never takes breaks from work, except for your birthday. he takes you on a weekend where you both can relax and have some sweet sweet sex in a jacuzzi 🤤

༘♡ 𝐓𝐎𝐉𝐈

you thought he was being weird as soon as you showed up in the outfit you had carefully chosen for your date at your favorite restaurant. he just looked at you from head to toe and nodded. he didn't even squeeze your ass when you walked past him and you ridiculously felt a bit sad about it. you should have known better, really.

now he's grabbing your hips with his big hands and forcing your body down onto his throbbing cock in the driver's seat, in the middle of the restaurant parking lot.

"m'sorry baby, I just can't resist you, you look so fucking good in that outfit." he moans in your ear and you have to bite his shoulder to keep from screaming.

he lowers one of his hands to grab your ass and he starts thrusting inside you, his cock rubbing all the right spots, making your thighs tremble and your eyes water.

you feel his other hand threading through your hair, forcing you to look down where both of your bodies are connected.

"look at the mess you've made honey, it's all over me. does getting fucked in a car turn you on that much?" he asks and he smiles when he feels you trying to meet the cruel thrusts of his hips while looking away from the view of your pussy soaking his cock.

you whimper when he pulls at your hair, forcing your head down once again.

"answer me. does my little slut like to get off to the thought of getting caught while I'm fucking her pretty pussy?"

and despite shaking your head you can't lie to him, almost salivating at the feeling of your swollen clit rubbing against the fabric of his pants while he keeps slamming his hips against your skin.

"fuck yes! yes I like it! I like it so much!" and he laughs at your dumb voice, seeing you so cock drunk never fails to amuse him, especially when you make such shameless noises with the rear windows half open... he'll tell you later.

bonus:

this car sex session leaves you both panting, sweat sticking on your foreheads, your hair all messy and let's not even talk about the cum dripping out of you right now. so you both decide to go back home and toji orders food from the restaurant you were supposed to go to.

[theabigailthorn]

We know you were on accutane. Stop lying

not that it would matter if I had, and not that it's any of your business, but I have in fact never taken accutane.

This is a useful teaching moment though, because what you're doing is a well-studied phenomenon in digital media called 'policing fake femininity.' It's a thing people do to women in the public eye, a specific kind of criticism centred around accusations of being inauthentic, fake, or having cheated in some way. Often it's men doing the policing but women do it to each other a lot too, there are whole websites dedicated to it in fact. Often those criticisms centre around our appearances, as yours did here.

It's sometimes a response to perceived inequality, of which there is plenty! Women in the public eye - myself included - do benefit from a lot of privilege. I've always been quite open about that. People who engage in that kind of public bullying often tell themselves that because of the privilege (or perceived privilege) of their targets the fake femininity policing is socially justified, or the fault of the target. But it doesn't really do anything to correct the structural problems that give rise to that inequality.

In their paper "Policing Fake Femininity," scholars Brooke Duffy, Kate Miltner, and Amanda Wahlstedt say,

“The solution to the structural concerns associated with capitalist patriarchy is not, we contend, to label individual influencers “stupid famewhores” and disparage their mental health in ways that invoke the spectre of hysteria (e.g., “batsh*t crazy,” “delusional,” and “lunatic”). As Chemaly [Rage Becomes Her, 2018] argues, it is necessary that girls and women express their anger, but such a directive “is not an endorsement of unbridled rage, or permission to deliver a swift roundhouse kick to the face of anyone who upsets you, or to regularly fill the spaces you live and work in with hostility and discomfort.” While venting anger at these influencers and their purportedly questionable choices may provide some form of much-needed catharsis, such gender-coded vitriol amplifies the rampant misogyny and toxicity that women already face in online environments.”

If you'd like to know more, I recommend:

Steve Cross & Jo Littler, “Celebrity and schadenfreude: The cultural economy of fame in freefall,” in Cultural Studies

Brooke Duffy, Kate Miltner, & Amanda Wahlstedt, “Policing “fake” femininity: Authenticity, accountability, and influencer anti-fandom,” in New Media & Society

[saintseeker]

ellie williams x bsf!reader.

you've been friends with ellie for two years; sleepovers and concerts, spending days basking on hot fields and riverbeds. she's a playboy; you're a saint. sometimes, things don't go the way we expect.

set in an undisclosed southern state during august. ellie is in a band. no specific physical descriptors are used for you.

my works are intended to be for any and all wlw/nblw, masc or fem, of any race. bigots dni!!! men dni!!! if this fic idea has been used before, please let me know.

umm so this is my first fic so please tell me if you guys want a pt. 2 or anything. i've always wanted to write for ellie but also for abby, who might be in the next part ;). we'll see. 1.3k words long, 'cause i didn't know if people would like this or not.

credits to @/hyuneskkami for the dividers.

pt. 1.

it's been a long two years and somehow, she still has feelings for you. recently, hanging out with you was a painstaking experience; watching the way your eyes shimmered whenever the sun hit them, watching your bright, wide grin. ellie was so, so whipped.

"it's not rocket science," you reprimand her. ellie's light green eyes meet yours, and she lets out a characteristic huff, fingers struggling to untie her shoe. "you'd think that for someone who plays guitar, you'd be pretty good with your fingers," you tease, sitting on the rock. the creek ripples quietly, and the early morning sun casts a light on top of it. the water glimmers a pale emerald, native wildlife making small sounds. for a moment, she doesn't speak, avoiding your eyes, and so you kneel down in front of her, beginning to unwork the knots in the dirty white laces. her converse are patchy; els always stubbornly wore them on your hikes and expeditions, even though each time they came back a bit more soiled, a bit more worn.

you finish untying them, and she huffs, looking down at you. a grin spreads across your face--she's planning something, and you squeal when she splashes you with some of the water, scooting back. ellie laughs, a high-pitched noise. you stare up at her; in these moments, she looked like an angel. freckled, kissed by the sun, as if she was some kind of saint, a poem within itself, meant to be studied and analyzed by word-hungry readers forever and ever. her skin was more tanned from spending practically each and every day outside with you, hair a bit longer than it should be, left untrimmed since june. you flick the water droplets off of your skin, adjusting your shirt, and it's ellie's turn to study the way your skin is illuminated by the hazy light, the way the water trails down your chest.

"you coming to my show?" she asks. it's more of a statement than a question, really. ellie knows you'll come; you always did. in a way, it made her feel guilty; she'd ask and you'd say yes no matter what, the 'yes' bubbling out of your mouth so quickly it made her smirk. there's a hint of softness behind her bark, a soft, little smile carving a crescent on her face. you swallow, turning away. ellie frowns. this wasn't like your usual, enthusiastic response. for a moment, she's worried; did something happen? did she upset you? or maybe dina said something. or jesse. the thoughts flicker through her mind like fireflies, glowing green, on and off. she almost reaches for you, to grab your shoulder. you're silent for a while before you look up at her, a faint expression of what--sadness, she thinks? no. hesitation, on your face.

she watches you as you clear your throat, sitting up, your back hitting the back of the rock you'd been leaning against. ellie can hear everything; the way the trees whistle in the wind, the way the cars passing by the road through the forest zoom closer, before zooming out. she knows you like the back of your hand; something is wrong. a frown blooms on your face, and she's about to grab your hand for real this time, before you start to speak.

"uh. i have a date tonight." your voice is matter-of-fact, and for a moment, you hate how cold you sound. but then, you're reminded that ellie is nothing but your best friend. even though during your sleepovers, she woke up from nightmares and immediately hid in your arms, bawling into your neck until a sheen of her tears made your skin shine under the moonlight. or the way you came to her whenever something happened, expression stony, but she could read the way your eyes were a bit wetter than usual, or the way you swallowed, the curve of your throat like a swan's. you avoid her eyes, looking down at your hands. a lapse of guilt eats away at you, before you remember the times that els stood your plans up. first, it happened because she forgot about a date. sure, that happens. ellie wasn't the greatest person with memory--but it began to happen again and again. you started to spend more time with her fucking band, for god's sake--sometimes you swore that jesse's face turned into one of pity when you traipsed into his garage, eyes wide and willowy. slowly, ellie began to ebb further and further away from you, even when you reached for her like a drowning woman.

ellie frowns. "a date? what?" you, a date? you were the saintliest person she knew. you didn't go on dates--always preaching that you were too busy, either focusing on refining your skills, or spending time with your friends, who you prioritized. not like her, she realizes with a bitter thought. you weren't like her, sleeping around with girls who's names floated away in the span of a week, getting drunk to push away any feelings until all ellie felt was cold numbness, waking up with no blanket and a bad headache. it was unbelievable--with who? who was this--girl, boy, ellie didn't care. did she know them? a hot, sticky feeling passes over her. this couldn't be. if you were telling her, now...how long had it been going on? her heart beats faster and faster, like her veins are constricting and opening.

"yeah," you say, a quiet mumble. "i...can't come. sorry, els." you give her a weak smile. "i really have to go. i'm really sorry." and in that moment, she hated you, for the way you smiled at her and apologized, even though this wasn't really your fault, she was just a jealous bastard--too good for her, that's what you were. the town druggie and the saint, best friends; this is how all the stories went. girl loses best friend she's secretly in love with because she's too much of a pussy to say anything. girl has been trying to kill these feelings for months with alcohol and other girls, who are nothing more than playthings. girl completely loses it.

"with who?" she demands. "who is it?" ellie was always good at pretending, slipping on masks. right now, she pretended that it was for your good, really. not because she was going to spend the rest of the night analyzing how could you fall for this person--how could you date them. you didn't even say you liked them, hell, loved them, but ellie's mind drifted to the worst case scenarios, fingers kneading into her toned thigh, bronze and tanned. her mouth is dry, tongue running over her lips. god. she really messed up, didn't she? she fixes her hair; all of a sudden, so aware of her physical appearance it hurts. before, ellie didn't really care; she could be in pajamas in front of you and not care, hair messy, but now, her heart beat faster and faster. it was like everything was going in slow motion.

"this girl," you say weakly. "she's...really nice." god, that's the best you could come up with? great job. you meet her eyes, and your heart falls all the way to your stomach. she looks like she's about to cry. was she okay? you're about to ask her when ellie huffs, red blossoming over her cheeks as she stands up, glaring down at you. you'd never seen her look at you like that. like you're anything but someone she'd be gentle with. her green shirt clings to her skin with sweat and riverwater, and she lets out a breath through her nose, eyes shut, before they open again.

"that's all it takes to get you to bend, huh? a really nice girl, yeah right." she snorts. "you're easy." your cheeks burn a sickly heat, eyes glowing. what the hell? ellie never...never spoke to you like that. not in this brutish, cruel way. her nails dig into her hands, creating little crescents in the soft flesh.

"i thought you knew me better than that." your voice cracks. ellie's face pales for a second, and she swallows.

"guess i don't." she bites back. and for the first time ever, you stand up, and you leave.

-----------------------------------------