#the motion lines in the third one really make this

[0mg-bird]

i would love it if you wrote anything with a shy reader and bob, but no pressure!

Two shy characters? I love it.

Shy Reader x B. Floyd

Summary: At the Navy bar your friends drag you to, you come across an aviator who isn’t like the rest of them.

Warnings: Mentions of anxiety, fluff!, Bob is so cute I wanna put him in my pocket even though I know he’s a grown man.

A/n: I did something a little different than my Jake story, hope you don’t hate it <3

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“I really wish we could have just stayed at the restaurant.” You awkwardly laugh as your friends, Ashley and Steff, pull you along with them.

“Oh come on, it’s my birthday so we’re going to get drunk and find a soldier to take home. One for each of us.” Steff says, already slightly tipsy from dinner.

You hide your frown, adjusting your curled hair and fiddle with your top.

You’ve never been into the Hard Deck, that’s what starts off your unsureness. You weren’t one for public outings, you enjoyed the company of your friends but they were always more adventurous than you.

There’s music playing and lots of people mingling, you’re practically hiding behind Ashley, following the two through the bar.

“You need a drink, you’re too stiff.” Ash says as the three of you sit at the bar.

“I’m always this stiff.” You reply, sitting on your stool. “Well, let’s fix that.” Steff giggles before ordering three drinks.

You chat and your anxious feelings subside, as soon as you get to thinking that bar scene really isn’t that bad, you hit a curve.

“God, they’re all so gorgeous.” Ash practically moans and you follow her line of sight to the group of uniforms behind you. They’re all playing pool and talking, all clad in tan and name badges.

“I like…that one- no! Him, yes, the tall one.” Steff bites her straw, motioning to a dirty blond with broad shoulders and great biceps.

Ash hums in agreement. “I like him too.”

“Well it’s my birthday so pick again.”

They have the argument for another minute or so, then as you finally dissociate from them, they’re telling you they’re going to go say hi.

“What? No just stay here…please?” You beg, not wanting to be left alone.

“We’ll be right back, I swear.” Steff says, kissing your cheek. “Have another drink and you’ll be fine.”

You groan and rub her lipstick off your face, then turn to the woman behind the bar. “I’ll have another Long Island, put it on the party girl’s tab.”

She smiles. “Coming right up.”

You blow out a puff of air, then look around. You must look awkward, sitting by yourself, not chatting like everyone else. When your drink comes, you look sip on your straw and look over your shoulder to see if your friends have gotten any farther with the guys they’re talking to. You smile at the way Steff is feeling her guy up, as you go to glance away, something catches your eye.

Someone.

He’s sitting on a stool, not fully engaged with the rest of the squad. As your eyes catch his stare, he looks away for a moment, then looks back.

A genuine smile he gives you, and then it’s your turn to slightly smile and look away.

Bob’s eyes keep shifting to your seated position across from him, and by the third time of his drifting off, Phoenix is onto his game.

“Are you gonna sit here like an idiot all night or are you going to talk to her?” She asks.

“What? I don’t know what-”

She rolls her eyes. “You’ve been staring at her like a puppy for twenty minutes. Go talk to her.”

The thought of approaching you seemed like a death wish. You were gorgeous, and any other previous times he’s approached a gorgeous girl, it ended with some sort of question about what Hangman was up to.

“No, she looks busy.” He says, looking back to the sunflower seeds in his cup.

“Busy doing what? Stirring the ice in her drink? That girl is bored out of her mind, Bob, go put her out of her misery.” She has a demanding tone that makes him stand, still unsure.

“What’s he doing?” Fanboy asks, noticing the way Bob slowly inches forward. “He’s gonna go talk to the girl he’s been ogling for too long.” Phoenix says.

“You go Bob!” Payback encourages, really just joking.

“Get me a beer while you’re at it!” Fanboy calls.

“Me too!” Phoenix and Payback add.

He walks with hesitation instead of determination, the entire time he thinks it’s a ridiculous idea.

He stops at the spot beside you. “Penny, can I get three beers?”

By his sudden presence, you startle, slightly jumping in your seat.

“Oh, sorry, didn’t mean to scare yuh.” He apologizes. You’re more beautiful up close, timid as you tell him it was okay.

“Why’re you sitting alone? If you don’t mind me asking?” He asks and you bite your lower lip, fighting a smile. “My friends are busy groping your friends over there.” You joke.

“Makes sense. You’re not a fan of their antics?”

You shake your head, nose scrunching. Bob takes in a small breath. “Well, I think it’s a real shame that you’re sitting alone. Why don’t you go back to your friends?”

You like his accent, it feels southern but you aren’t sure.

“Really, I’m fine. I’m not exactly a fan of the attention being on me.” You admit.

As Penny places three beer bottles in front of him, he grabs them up. “I think you should join me.” He rushes out, his tone just as surprised as you are.

“Join you?” You ask, looking to the group. Two guys are shoving each other back and forth, seeing who will fall over first. You’re not satisfied with the idea of involving yourself with that. “I think I’ll just wait for my friends to come back.”

He takes a seat beside you. “Can I join you then?”

No guy has ever been so persistent with you before, you’re not sure what to do. You look at his name tag.

“Okay, Floyd, you can stay but I’m kind of boring.”

He shakes his head. “I find that hard to believe and uh, you can call me Bob, everyone else does.”

Having him up close, you recognize how handsome he really is. Not the obnoxiously attractive that the rest of his crew is, he’s more reserved. You like that. His glasses are quirky and different, making him look all the better.

“I’d hate to keep you from your friends, Bobby.”

No one’s ever called him Bobby before, the way it sounds coming off your lips is addicting.

“Trust me, you’re doing me a favor.” He jokes. “You got a name?”

You look at your shoes and tell him. When he tries it out, you blush.

“I like that name.” He compliments.

“I think it’s kind of boring:”

“It’s not boring.”

You like the way he’s being so kind, most guys would have tried a pick up line by now, but Bob sits with utter curiosity in his eyes.

“So, you from here?” You ask, sucking on your straw.

“No, I’ve lived in Lemoore for a while but I’m stationed here until further notice. I grew up in Kentucky actually, then I joined the Navy and haven’t really been back.” He explains, watching the way you rest an elbow in the bar, then lean your head on your hand. “What about you? Are you from here?”

You shake your head. “No, I’m from up North actually. But I went to school down here and fell in love with it so here I am.”

The two of you are quickly immersed in conversation about childhood and travel and Bob watches you come out of your shell.

“You don’t want anything?” You asked, motioning to the bar.

“I don’t drink.” He explains, though he’s distracted by Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin who suddenly is crowding your space.

“Excuse me, is this guy bothering you?” He asks, joking around with Bob.

“Don’t you have a blonde to attend to, Bagman?” Bob questions, making the man drop his smile.

“I’m getting her a drink, her friend too.” He says before ordering two vodka sodas. He looks back at you. “Your party girlfriends are wanting you to join them.”

As you open your mouth to respond, a shout comes from the group. “Bob! What happened to the beers?”

Bob groans, then stands to gather the beers that have been sitting for twenty minutes. “I should get back to it.” He tells you with a smile, walking away.

You look around, confused. Maybe you put him off, maybe you gave the wrong signals. You grab your drink, finishing it quickly, and before you can second guess yourself, you follow after him.

As your presence is recognized, the crew halts in conversation.

This was a bad idea. You could turn back, it wasn’t too late.

As you go to do just that, Bob speaks. “Hi again.”

He’s motioning to the stool he was going to sit on, offering it to you instead.

You slowly sit, deciding on being brave.

You’re introduced to the rest of the group, and as you remember why you didn’t want to be around the guys your friends wanted to, Bob is there, talking to you so the others couldn’t. There’s plenty of jokes made that you force yourself to laugh at, just so you wouldn’t seem awkward, but the tale tell sign of you constantly checking the little leather watch on your wrist showed you were ready for some peace and quiet.

“You wanna go for a walk?” Bob’s voice is low next to your ear, it makes a shiver run through you.

As you look up, his face is surprisingly close to you. You slowly nod. “Okay.”

In the moment that everyone else is distracted by the two girls who adore the attention, the two of you head for the door. You don’t pull away as Bob clutches your hand, keeping you close as he leads you past people.

The music is immediately quieted as you make it to the fresh air, the gentle sound of the waves coming in is relaxing.

“I don’t love the crowds either.” He says as you make your way across the sidewalk. You’re busy looking out to the sand and waves. “Ash and Steff are really more the fun ones, they can have a good time with a group of people watching…I cannot.”

He likes the sound of your laugh, the way the white moonlight is hitting your features makes you seem radiant.

“I always thought the Navy would make me a more sociable person, I guess it has but I think it creeps people out, how quiet I am.” He chuckles.

Completely content with strolling beside you, he gives off an energy you feel utterly comfortable in.

“I like that you’re quiet, most Navy guys aren’t.”

He playfully squints at you. “You talk to a lot of Navy guys?”

Reevaluating your words, your cheeks flush. “No that’s not what I meant, I just meant that- they’re all a certain way- not that I would know! I have never slept with any man of uniform!”

Bob stands in surprise at your ramble, finding it humorous. As he laughs, you cover your face, embarrassed.

“Hey, I was just teasing. I swear, I was teasin’.” He grabs your wrists gently, prying your hands from you so he can look at your red face. “Come on, pretty girl, look at me.”

As soon as he says it, he feels embarrassed himself. The name just slipped out, he should’ve halted the words, he needs to apologize-

You look up at him, doe eyes and a small smile.

Your hearts pounding, your close proximity to him has you feeling hot. As the low crash of waves mixes with the ringing in your ears, you wonder what it would be like to live on the wild side, to do what people do in bars. If you were brave and stepped out of your shy personality, would he let you kiss him?

Bob’s gazing down at you, he’s trying to figure out what’s turning in your mind. One hand lets go of your wrist, it gently cups your cheek.

“I’m going to be bold.” You state with a determination that makes him nod.

“Okay.” Is all he says.

The hand he has a hold on, goes to rest on his chest. You’re surprised at the hardness of it, sure you knew he had to be physically fit to be in the line of work he’s in, but his body is so unsuspecting, it honestly makes him utterly attractive.

He watches you hyper fixate on your touch on his chest, and the warmth of you is enough to make him feel buzzed.

He doesn’t want to rush you, but every second where you don’t pursue whatever thought you have, is killing him.

You start thinking against it, you don’t want him to think you kiss strangers, it’s not who you are at all. You swallow hard, about to call the whole thing off and tell him goodnight. When you raise your head though, he’s lifting your face to his. You’re captivated, he’s embracing you so tenderly, kissing you with an unsure and unfamiliar passion.

You sigh deeply, he holds your hand to his chest, your free one slides over his shoulder. Slowly, shyly, your lips move against his, falling into a gentle rhythm.

Your heavy eyes are shut, the utter feeling of him is making an electricity flicker through you.

After a moment, he pulls away, both hands cradling your face now.

“Please tell me that’s what you were going to do.”

You nod with a fever. “Yes, that’s exactly what I was going to do.”

He kisses you quickly once more, just to get it out of his system. “What are you doing tomorrow?” He asks.

“Probably nursing Steff’s hang over, but if you call me I’ll do whatever you’re doing.”

He grins, liking the idea.

You continue your late night walk, and inside the bar, Coyote looks to the vacant stool with confusion. “Where’s Bob?”

The crew stops, then looks to the empty space.

“Stealth pilot, I’m telling you.” Hangman says. “This guy is always disappearing and popping back up again.”

[celestie0]

gojo satoru x reader | college au [18+]

kickoff ch.6 devil's advocate

ᰔ pairing. college au - soccer player! gojo x film major! reader

ᰔ summary. gojo satoru is the most popular guy on your college campus. he's tall, funny, hot, not to mention he's the most talented soccer forward the school has seen in years. but he's also a frat dude, which puts him in a world very different from your own, as he spends most of his nights partying & drinking while you spend most of yours working on your annoying film major assignments. but when he reaches out to you for a favor, you realize that helping him out might have something in it for you too.

ᰔ warnings/tags. 18+, fem reader, fluff, angst, smut, college au, fraternities, sororities, partying, drinking/alcohol, mentions of weed, romance, jealousy, pining, slow burn, opposites to lovers, friends to lovers, she falls first he falls harder, gojo being an idiot

ᰔ chapter. 6/x (probably 12)

ᰔ words. 10.7k

a/n. so sorry for the wait! i'm really excited for this chapter, it's one that i've been waiting for since before i even started the series, and it was a lot of fun to write. i hope you enjoooy <3 if there are typos, your mind is just playing tricks on you

nav. masterlist

☾·̩͙꙳ moodboard no.1

♬.*ﾟplaylist

Life after realizing you had feelings for Gojo Satoru seemed to pass by in slow-motion, as you spent a significant portion of the day consumed by thoughts of him. Although it was against your better judgment, it was nice to have your mind occupied by something that wasn’t career stress, school stress, or financial stress. It’s been a minute since you’ve felt this way about someone, and it was healthy to indulge in some escapism, right? 

You find yourself scrolling through his Instagram page for the second third time today, captivated by the attractive photos of him in his soccer uniform, kicking at the ball with a determined look on his face. Your gaze fixates on the blue follow-back button staring back at you on his page, remembering that you still haven’t followed him back. Pulling your phone away from your line of sight, you glance up at the ceiling, take a deep breath, and swiftly tap the blue button. You clutch your phone to your chest right after, surprised by the butterflies in your stomach, but it’s only ten seconds before you’re back to perusing his photos. 

You sigh dreamily from where you were laid back on your bed. Mina looks up at you from her desk with an irritated expression on her face. 

“What’s with the dreamy sighing every thirty seconds? I’m trying to study here,” she says to you.

You throw her a look. “Oh please, I’ve had to deal with your dreamy sighs every single time you were on the phone with Todo for the past two weeks. You can handle a few of mine.”

Mina’s eyes widen at your words and she turns in her chair to look at you intently. “Wait…who are you dreamily sighing for?”

You blink in response. “Oh, uh. No one? I mean, what’s that one actor’s name–the one in that show we were watching?” You tap your finger to your lip, pretending to be in deep thought, but Mina wasn’t buying any of it since she promptly stood up from her chair and snatched your phone out of your hand. You yelp and sit up on your bed to try and grab it back from her but she has that I was the eldest sibling in my household grip on your phone. 

“Is this…Gojo Satoru’s Instagram page?” she asks, extending your phone out in front of her and tilting her head to the side at the screen, as though she was trying to wrap her head around it.

“Stop! You’ll accidentally tap on something,” you’re squealing at her, arms flailing out in an attempt to grab at your phone. She eventually hands it back to you and you’re sighing with relief before flopping back down onto your bed, fingers eagerly swiping up on the screen to make sure she didn’t accidentally like one of his posts from four months ago. 

“Are you crushing on Gojo Satoru?” Mina asks with her hands on her hips.

You meet her gaze with a hint of guilt. You haven’t kept Mina up-to-speed on a lot of the things that have happened within the past three weeks, including the night last week when Gojo stayed with you out on the road after you got your flat tire and then kissed you. It’s been about five days since then, and you feel that if you fessed up now, she’d be mad that you didn’t tell her right away. 

“I’m…” you start as you look at her and she raises an eyebrow at you that makes you sheepishly sit up on your bed, pretty much kneeling in front of her. “Maybe. A little bit? I don’t know.”

She looks at you with surprise before walking backwards and sitting onto her bed, facing you. She presses her lips together, deep in thought, and there’s an almost concerned expression on her face. “When did this develop?”

You end up explaining pretty much everything that has happened between you and Gojo as of recently, her face staying neutral through even the most surprising details, and by the time you’re done explaining and waiting for her to give a response, you realize you’re tensing your shoulders and holding your breath.

She sighs, sulking a little and her bed frame creaks underneath the mattress. “I can’t believe you kissed Gojo Satoru and you didn’t tell me about it, like, practically the second after it happened. Also, you never told me that’s why you called me that night! It makes sense now why your car has been in ‘service’ for almost an entire week. I feel so horrible you went through that and I wasn’t there for you.”

“It’s okay,” you assure her with a small smile. “I’m fine. It was really nerve-wracking in the moment,” you say as you glance down at your hands, twiddling with your thumbs as the memories of that night flash through your mind. “But having him there really helped calm me down,” you admit in a hushed tone. When you look up at Mina, she wears a soft and knowing expression on her face.

“That’s good, I’m glad,” she murmurs and returns your smile with one of her own, but her eyes still look at you with caution.

“What’s wrong?” you ask. 

“Nothing’s wrong, it’s just I don’t really know Gojo that well. From what you’re telling me, he seems like a nice guy,” she comments, “but the fact he’s been really diligent in following-through with this whole film photography assignment of yours makes me wonder where his head’s at with you.” She finishes her sentence, but you continue to watch her since you could tell she had more on her tongue. “I just hope he’s not messing with you.” 

“Messing with me?” you ask her. There’s a part of you deep inside that’s wondering the same thing, but the thought of having to confront that feeling in order to get an answer makes you want to stay in blissful ignorance instead. 

She worries her bottom lip between her teeth and looks at you for a few seconds. “Maybe I’m overthinking it. It’s just a crush, right?” Her phone chimes with an alarm noise and she grabs it to turn it off. “Oh shoot, I’m going to be late for class,” she groans, leaping up off of her bed and stuffing all of her things on her desk into her bag. She gives you a goodbye over her shoulder just before she heads out of your shared room and then you’re all by yourself. 

Mina’s last question to you hangs in the air. You didn’t really know how you would’ve answered, because you didn’t know what you expected to come from your feelings, if anything at all. You’ve had feelings for plenty of other guys before, some turning into something more and others turning into nothing at all. Having feelings for someone wasn’t really something to worry about or complicate. 

You lay back down onto your bed with a sigh and go to the messages on your phone, clicking on Gojo’s name. It was so bizarre that he was now in your list of actual text messages since you had his number now, but the two of you have only exchanged a few texts since that night you last saw him. He sent over his practice schedule for the week, which was pretty packed and busy since their big game on the 28th was in just two days, and when you zoom in on the picture you see that he has practice in about ten minutes from now. You assumed that since he never texted you about it, they were probably just doing drills out on the field or some other exercises. But you missed him, and you wished that you did have an excuse to visit him. You didn’t care about tweaking your camera angles, fixing the exposure, or trying out different light sensitivities for your photos so they come out immaculate. You just wanted to see him again.

Tossing your phone to your side, suddenly frustrated by how mentally drained you feel, you look around the room and decide to tidy up a bit to distract yourself from all your emotions. As you start to pick things up off your desk and place them back on the shelf, you notice that you still have a netted bag full of washed laundry to fold. You dump all of the clothing onto your bed, consisting of sports bras, multiple pairs of jeans, your nice panties and also your grandma undies. One of the articles of clothing catches your eye, and you pull it out from the pile. It was Gojo’s jacket. 

Your heart skips a beat in your chest as you take in the sight of it, all the memories of that night flashing back into your head. You remember the chill of the air, the deep sound of his voice beside you, the gentle look in his eyes, his lips pressed against yours. Gojo had kissed you, so that had to have meant something, right? Maybe it was a spur of the moment thing, an emotional decision because the two of you were alone, and it was dark, and it was cold, and you two were reveling in each other’s warmth, but it was still something he initiated. It was so brief, the moment cut so tragically short that you still find yourself craving more despite the fact it happened almost a week ago. Mina wasn’t home that night, and instead of spending the rest of it curled up by yourself like you ended up doing, you could’ve easily invited him inside. You wonder if he would’ve taken you up on the offer, and how far you two would’ve gone. And now, because you were imaging it, you find it in your heart that you wanted it. Before you know it, those feelings you swore you wouldn’t complicate started to feel complicated. If all the novels, movies, poems, and folklore of this world have been any indicator, when it comes to matters of the heart, it’s always impossible to defy. 

You bring the jacket to your chest, the fabric now smelling like the laundry detergent that all of your other clothes smell like, and no longer of him. It was the polite thing to do to wash it, but the absence of his scent on the soft material just made you miss him even more. 

Closing your eyes in disbelief at the thought that crosses your mind, you resolve to act now and deal with whatever comes later. If you wanted to see him, you were going to see him. Besides, wanting to hand his jacket back to him wasn’t so bad of an excuse to drop by, right? What if it was a deeply sentimental article of clothing that is agonizing for him to be apart from? (a/n. he doesn’t even realize you still have it lol)

You grab your tote bag as well as his jacket and head out of your apartment, down to the ground floor, and walk down the street until you reach the bus stop that takes you to campus. You make it there in about forty minutes, the bus dropping you off near the central area. As you start walking towards the expensive art sculpture near the practice fields, you pass by the school’s mini convenience store and the bottles of strawberry vanilla soda splayed out in the display case catches your eye. You then find yourself inside buying two cans. One for him, one for you. Maybe he’ll be open to hanging out after practice, and you could properly treat him to something nice for all of his help. 

Soon enough, you’re walking across the grassy hills that lead to the field. It was a slightly gloomy day today, with the sun only peaking through the clouds every five minutes or so, but it was still beautiful and something about the fresh air made your chest swell with ease. Just as you get closer, you notice Geto and Nanami walking together in your direction.

“Oh, it’s y/n!” you hear Geto say when you approach them.

You greet the two of them with a smile. “Hello, it’s nice to see you two. Are you finished with practice?”

“No, we’ve still got about two hours left, but we just finished a pretty intense set of drills so coach is giving us a fifteen,” Geto says through strained breathing, and you finally notice that the two of them looked sweaty and spent. “What’s that in your arms?”

You look down at the strawberry vanilla sodas you were carrying and then back up at the two of them. “Oh…I just wanted to bring some soda for mr. center forward, as a thanks for getting me referee permission to be on-field on Thursday.” 

Nanami crosses his arms across his chest and Geto’s eyes widen. “Damn, wish I had a cute girl go out of her way to bring me strawberry-flavored soda mid practice,” Geto muses.

“I don’t think Satoru deserves this level of kindness, y/n,” Nanami tells you with a shake of his head. Geto looks over at him with a wry expression before letting out a small laugh. 

You give the two of them a smile. “No, really, he’s been helpful. Is he out on the field?” you ask, standing on tiptoes to try and peer over their shoulders towards the field.

“Yeah, he is, I think he stayed back since Coach Yaga was yelling at him about something,” Geto answers and he takes a glance at his watch, “he usually doesn’t stick around to take the lecturing for longer than two minutes so he’s probably somewhere hanging around nearby.” 

“That’s good. Coach Yaga scares me,” you admit to the two of them, pretending to shiver at the thought of him yelling, and this earns a smile from Nanami. 

“He’s really not that scary of a guy, just pretends to be one,” Geto informs you then lets out an exhale and places his hands on his hips after fully regaining his breath. “So, you’re going to be on the field with us on Thursday? That’s awesome, please cheer for us. Also, you should come out to the house party the night before the game.”

You raise an eyebrow at him. “You guys still party before your big games?”

Geto laughs. “I always forget you’re not in a sorority. Yeah, we do, I think the frat just wants an excuse to go crazy and picks our game schedule to go off of. You’ve no idea how many of our players have been in massive shit by showing up hungover to games.” 

Nanami lets out a disgruntled noise. “It’s irresponsible, honestly.”

You give an apologetic laugh before fidgeting with the soda cans in your arms, eventually throwing them into your tote, and then peering over their shoulders once more as an impatient feeling washes over you, the desire from earlier to see Gojo consuming you in a way that was entirely distracting. Nanami seems to notice this as he uncrosses his arms and slightly nudges Geto with his elbow. Geto sends him a curious glance before looking back at you.

“Well, anyway. If you’re free tomorrow night, come by. Pre-game parties are usually pretty hype. Yuuji’s bouncing, so he’ll let you in,” Geto says to you, giving you a kind smile.

“Yeah, I’ll try to make it,” you say, returning his smile. The two of them walk past you and you continue to trek forwards until you reach the large hill that oversees the field. 

Once you’re at the top, your eyes immediately scan the field for Gojo, and you quickly spot him at the foot of the hill talking to some people. You notice the group surrounding him weren’t wearing athletic clothing of any sort, so you assumed they were just his friends. He had a bright smile on his face and just the sight of it created a warmth within you. As you begin to stumble down the hill, your legs hasty in their stride, you see him leaning down forward towards one of the girls in the group with a playful look on his face. The girl looks up at him with a tilt of her head and you hear feminine, high-pitched laughter in the air as she steps closer to him, swatting at his chest from something he says. He’s fully grinning at her now, and it’s so painfully obvious they’re flirting that the feeling in your chest that was so excited to see him quickly turns sour. 

He somehow catches you standing at the bottom of the hill in his periphery and his eyes widen. There’s a moment where you hesitate, but eventually take a deep breath and make your way through the crowd. A few within the group let out confused noises from the disruption and then you were standing right in front of Gojo. 

“Who’s this?” one of his friends asks, particularly annoyed since you had accidentally nudged him to the side in your stride. You could feel the wide eyes from the men and the curious glares from the women. 

Gojo’s standing there shocked, likely from the fact that he wasn’t expecting you to be here, and then glances around to the people in the group. “Oh, just someone I…” he starts, his facial expression softening slightly when he looks back at you, but you’re giving him a guarded expression, “...know.” 

Your mouth opens slightly in disbelief, before you quickly close it. It’s true that you didn’t really know what you and Gojo were at the moment, it’s possible you would’ve answered the same, but his description of the nature of your relationship with him still hurts. He could’ve at least said your name or introduced you. And your disappointment from his words made you realize an unsettling truth, which was that you did want more from him, and you weren’t sure if that was something he was interested in at all. 

The girl he was talking to earlier is glaring daggers at your side, and you suddenly feel suffocated surrounded by a group of people watching you with interest. The man in front of you, despite getting to know him for the better part of the past three weeks, started to feel like a stranger to you all over again. You shove his jacket to his chest, and he looks down at it with surprise before hesitantly grabbing onto it. 

“Just wanted to return your jacket,” you mumble to him, trying so hard to sound neutral and sane. “I washed it for you.”

You hear a few of the men surrounding you coo something suggestive, a few laughs making their way between them as the women in the group scoff in denial. You ignore them and keep your gaze on Gojo. He’s looking straight down at you and scanning your features, and you notice his face briefly contorts into one of guilt when he registers the disappointed look on your face. 

Reaching into your bag, you pause when you see the two cans of strawberry vanilla soda sitting at the bottom, the smiling cartoon mascot faces on the labeling staring up at you like some pitiful conscience. You reached in and grabbed one regardless, then extended it to Gojo. He blinks at it before looking up at you. When he doesn’t immediately grab it, you also shove it to his chest until he does. When his fingertips make contact with your hand as he takes it from you, the contact sends a shiver down your spine. 

You bite your lip, faltering before you speak again. “For your help. Officially even now.” Then you turn around and push through the strangers spectating the whole scene to make it over to the grassy hills. You vaguely hear Gojo call your name out from behind you, his voice quickly drowned out by the voices of those surrounding him as they continue conversation, and soon enough you’re out of sight over the hill. 

—

“So, you’re telling me that this guy goes out of his way to help you for this class assignment, in a way that’s unproportionate to the favor that you put in for him, he flirtatiously teases you any chance he gets, drives out late at night to stay with you when you’re stranded with a flat, has an earnest conversation with you about life, kisses you, diligently takes care of you until you’re home safe, and then when you run into him in front of his friends, he says you’re just someone he knows?” Mina’s recounting every single painful detail as she paces around in your shared room. “I know you both haven’t had a conversation about anything after that night, which is insane because you should’ve, but at least he could’ve said you were a friend?” 

You scoff from where you’re laid down on your bed. “I caught him sliding his hands up a girl’s top in the bathroom at that SAE party last week, and when he tried to explain the situation to me he said that he and that girl are just friends. So, by his definition, we’re definitely not friends.”

Mina sighs. “Honestly, y/n, I know he’s charming and he’s been nice to you, but he still has a reputation for being a player.” 

You look up at the ceiling, your pillow clutched in your arms for emotional support. “He almost looked like he didn’t even want me there. Like I was an unwelcome interruption. Some sort of nuisance.” You weren’t sure exactly how to read the expression he had on his face from your unexpected visit, but your brain had a habit of settling on the worst. 

Mina sits down at her desk, turning her chair to face you. You were fully sulking like a heart-broken teenager and you didn’t understand why. He wasn’t any sort of title to you, and you haven’t even known him for that long. Barely a couple weeks ago, you were still resolved to the fact that he was some sort of mystery. An urban legend around campus that you couldn’t believe you were talking to because people like him didn’t usually talk to people like you. 

“Why don’t you just ask him how he feels about you? Put an end to the guessing game. Be like ‘hey, jerk, I know it’s common-place for frat dudes to kiss girls like they’re a dime a dozen. But that’s not gonna fly with me, so fess up on your intentions’. Something like that,” Mina suggests, waving a finger in the air.

You glance at her annoyed. “Were you trying to do an impression of me? I don’t talk like that.”

“You kind of do, love,” she says with a smile on her face. 

You look back up at the ceiling. “...I don’t want to have that conversation with him. It’ll hurt my pride. He should’ve been the one asking me what we are now, since he’s the one that kissed me.” You turn to gauge her opinion at your words, but her expression isn’t giving any hints. “Is that petty? I feel like I’m being petty.”

“No, girl, I agree with you,” she says with a sigh, “that’s how it should be, but almost never ends up being the case.” She looks up at the ceiling briefly, a thought forming in her head, before looking down at you with a sly smile. 

“What?” you ask, already wearily anticipating her response.

“You want to know how to find out how he feels about you without asking him how he feels about you?” she says like it was some sort of sales pitch.

You turn onto your side and perch yourself up on your elbow, a little too interested. “How?”

She snaps her fingers. “Make him jealous.”

You look at her apprehensively. “Jealous?”

“I mean, that’s the foolproof way to tell how a guy really feels about you. Based on how he reacts when he sees another guy’s tongue shoved down your throat,” she says with a playful shrug.

You flop down on the bed again. “Now that’s petty.” You hug your pillow to your chest again, considering the option. You didn’t even know if Gojo would feel jealous if you tried to make him jealous, it’s possible he wouldn’t even care at all if he saw you with another guy. 

“Yes, petty, but so what? We’re seniors in college, now’s our last chance to be petty. After we graduate, we’ve got to be fully functioning members of society,” she sighs, “you only get to be a petty college chick once.”

“How would I make him jealous?” you ask, still dwelling on her suggestion.

“Well, SAE is having that pre-game party tonight, he’s definitely going to be there. It’s your chance,” she says, tapping at her phone to glance at the time. 

You hum to yourself. The mature part of you is telling you that it’s a ridiculous idea, but the angel on your shoulder that has weathered the pain of all your confusing feelings as of lately was starting to play devil’s advocate. After a minute’s silence, you cover your face with your hand and groan. “Oh god.”

Mina looks up at you again. “What?”

“I’m gonna do it,” you say, swinging your feet over to the edge of the bed so you’re sitting up, pillow still hugged to your chest as you look at her. “I’m going to go find out how he really feels about me.”

Mina’s smiling at you and hops onto her feet. “Finally. I’ve been waiting for the toxic version of you to make her appearance.”

There was still a couple of hours before the party, so you take a shower and spend some time doing your hair as well as makeup. Wearing your robe, you walk over to your dresser and open it to pull out a pair of jeans when Mina looks over at you and sighs. You send her a look and she makes her way over to you, nudging you to the side with her hip and shoving your jeans back into the drawer.

“You’re not wearing jeans to this party,” she groans, “do I seriously have to teach you everything?” Mina starts shifting through the clothes you had hung up on your hangers, eyes landing on something that was tucked away to the side. She pulls out your black dress, the one that had long, skin tight sleeves with a sweetheart neckline and the short hem that barely fell to the middle of your thighs. She pats at the soft and silky material, pulling on it in an attempt to smooth out one of the wrinkles. “Oh, yes, honey. This will definitely do.”

“It’s wrinkled,” you say in a poor attempt to get out of wearing it. 

“Nothing my straightener set at 350 degrees won’t fix,” she says to you with a wink.

It takes Mina three minutes to prepare your dress for you while you anxiously pace around the room, fidgeting to yourself, and she eventually hands it to you to wear. The dress had an A-line silhouette cinched at the waist and the top half was tight, so you decided not to wear a bra with it. Just as you’re about to pull on a pair of biker shorts underneath to cover a bit more since the short fabric was hardly doing much, Mina sends you another disappointed look. 

“y/n, please, you’re killing me here,” she says. “To make him jealous, you’ve gotta get other guys to look at you. That might mean being a bit risque with the attire tonight.”

You sulk your shoulders before sighing and tossing your biker shorts back into your closet. You turn around to face the mirror, petting down the fabric of your dress over you and tousling with your hair before gasping a little as you take in your entire appearance. You looked good, and Mina’s playful cat-call from behind you only gave you a greater kick of confidence. 

“Love it, cute but sexy at the same time,” she says with a smile. “It’s your turn to be the hottie at the party.”

You two decide to take an Uber to the frat strip, arriving at the host house close to 10pm, and you can already hear the loud chanting and music inside. As you make your way up to the driveway, a gust of wind breezes by and your hands immediately hold down the fabric of your dress in an attempt to not flash the group of people walking behind the two of you. Mina looks over at you with a mischievous smile. You make eye contact with Yuuji at the entrance and he straightens his posture when he sees you and Mina approaching.

“Hello, ladies. I see we’ve switched roles here tonight,” Yuuji says with a tip of his head. “Bombshell friend,” he gestures to you, “and-”

“If you call me a casual tomboy, I can’t guarantee I won’t smack you,” Mina says to him.

Yuuji blinks at her. “Head on in,” he mumbles and you two walk past him.

It hits you as you walk inside that this is the third SAE party that you’ve been to within the past three weeks, and yet the atmosphere still surprises you every time. The music was loud, but at this one, the people chanting was even louder. You notice there were posters and flags with the school’s colors and symbols plastered up and hanging from the staircase, as well as pinned up jerseys on the walls that looked a lot like the ones that the soccer players wear during matches. Oh, and derogatory insults for the opposing school were drawn across all the decorations.

“I’m going to go find Todo,” Mina says to you with excitement and then she’s skipping off into the heart of the party, leaving you alone.

You sigh and fidget with the sleeves of your dress, looking around the party, your heart beating fast in your chest at the prospect that you’ll lock eyes with Gojo but you don’t see him anywhere. As you walk inside, you notice that people are looking at you, and when you make eye contact with some, you notice a lot of them were men, and the attention has you itching for a drink. You quickly make your way into the kitchen and are satisfied when you see the insane amount of options that you can reach for on the island. You grab a White Claw, crack the can open and when you turn around, you jump a little from the sight of a person in front of you.

“Woah, sorry, didn’t mean to scare you,” the man in front of you says with an apologetic look on his face, and you recognize him as the one that was bouncing the last SAE party that you went to last weekend. “Just going to reach around you to grab…that.” He reaches around you to grab an entire bottle of tequila, his arm brushing against yours and his eyes meet yours with a smile on his face. “I remember you from last week. You’re stunning by the way, what’s your name?”

You tell him and he’s nodding his head slowly, a cheeky look on his face that you’re used to seeing when guys attempt small talk to distract from the other less-than-innocent things they have floating around in their heads. “Nice, I’m Ryota,” he says as he adjusts the snap-back he was wearing on his head, “you, uh, in a sorority?” He leans back against the kitchen counter in front of you and you wonder if grabbing the tequila was just an excuse to talk to you.

You find yourself turning away from him slightly, taking a huge gulp of the White Claw you had in your hands to realize that 8% ALC./VOL was not going to be enough to get you through the night, so you turned to face him again. “No, I’m not. Are you going to drink all that tequila by yourself or are you looking to share?”

He smirks at you. “There’s enough for two.” 

You and this man you met literally two minutes ago cheers a few shots, throwing them back, and you notice that he does them almost effortlessly while you’re wincing from the fact that it’s been a long time since you’ve had hard liquor. He’s chuckling at your reactions as your face scrunches up from your third shot and you wave your hand in front of your face from the burn. A few people that walk in and out of the kitchen periodically give the two of you amused looks before walking back out into the loud party nearby. 

“Can’t handle your alcohol?” Ryota asks and you sigh, your face already feeling flushed.

“I can, I swear,” you whine.

“Here, wanna?” he says to you as he hands you another shot and then he holds his outstretched arm up. You think he’s trying to cheers, so you tap his shot glass, and then he’s laughing. “No, hold your arm out.” You do as he says and he holds his arm against yours and soon enough he’s taking a step closer to you and you’re interlocking your arms at the elbow. You let out a small gasp from his proximity but his eyes on you are unwavering. He brings his shot glass to his lips and you do the same and then you both tip your heads back, the burn in your throat making you unwind your arm from him and shake your head until you’re leaning back against the island counter and you hear him laugh again in front of you.

“Y/n?” a familiar voice calls out that instantly sobers you up from the four shots of tequila you so valiantly threw back. 

The two of you turn your heads to look at the source of the voice, and you see Gojo standing at the entrance of the kitchen. Your breath catches in your throat at the sight of him and you feel your heart skip a beat in your chest, still so shocked at just how breathtaking he was anytime you saw him. He was holding an empty bottle of alcohol in his hands. You straighten your posture but Ryota still leans against the counter nonchalantly.

“Hey, what’s up dude. Sorry, I was about to circle back with more tequila, but I got caught up in here,” Ryota says and flashes you a smile. “Do you know y/n here?” 

You observe Gojo, who wears a tense expression in response to hearing his words, and then he locks eyes with you. A look of surprise swiftly passes across his face as he takes in your appearance, and you feel as if you're practically burning under his gaze. He looks back at Ryota and furrows his brow. 

“Yeah, I do,” he mutters and rudely pushes right in between the two of you to make it to the fridge. “Seems like you do, too.” 

Ryota seems to pick up on something from Gojo's tone that you don’t, because suddenly he’s standing up straight from the counter and turns to look at you with a contemplative expression. "I'll bring the tequila, or what's left of it I guess, out there," he mentions to Gojo, excusing himself with a brief glance in your direction. As he leaves and turns around the corner, a noticeable weight hangs in the air from how you and Gojo are alone in the kitchen now.

You lean back against the island, reaching for the White Claw you had opened earlier and take another sip. There was a muted buzz lingering in your head, and it felt good, offering a pretty welcome distraction from the fact that Gojo was standing just a few feet away from you, searching for something in the fridge. When he doesn’t seem to find what he’s looking for, he closes the fridge door with a louder-than-normal slam, startling you, and then he turns around to face you.

“Didn’t know you’d be here,” he declares with an edge to his voice, and you’re already rolling your eyes.

“Sorry, pal, should I send you a notarized attendance letter three business days in advance so I don’t end up cock-blocking you in a bathroom again?” you sneer at him. 

He leans back against the fridge, facing you as he crosses his arms across his chest. Damn it, don’t stare at the muscles. Don’t do it. “What’s with the attitude?” 

“I don’t have an attitude, this is just how I talk to my acquaintances,” you retort as you take another sip of your drink.

He takes a step forward to you, eyes shamelessly dipping to the neckline of your dress and then a little bit further to where the hem grazes your thighs. He places his palm on the counter behind you that you were resting back on and then he’s leaning closer to you, your grip on the can in your hand tightening. He was so close that you can’t think of anything but him. His eyes are on your lips when he speaks. “Are we just acquaintances?” 

You narrow your eyes at him, all of your anger from yesterday and earlier today resurfacing at his question as you look up at him straight in the eyes. “Yes, I’m only someone you know, right?”

He’s sighing and you can tell he wants to pull away from you to display his annoyance, but he stays right where he’s at. The hand that was placed on the counter slowly inches towards your waist until his thumb is brushing against the fabric of your dress just underneath your rib cage. He starts to draw slow circles on the material, pressing into your skin occasionally, and you‘re breathless from the contact. “I’m getting the hint that you’re mad at me about something, but it’s hard to care when you’re looking like this.”

You let out a scoff at his words. You’ve spent the past two days suffering from his behavior, and he’s trying to get away with it by practically seducing you. But there was also a part of you that was entirely aroused by how little he seemed to care about your attitude and how much more he seemed to care about the way you were worrying your bottom lip between your teeth. “Looking like what?”

The thumb that was pressing against the clothed skin of your waist retreats and his hand moves back to where it was before, laid flat on the counter next to you, except this time his other arm reaches out for the surface too. And now he’s got you caged-in, looking down at you like he’s trying really hard to not get even closer. “Looking hot as fuck? You’re kind of vain for making me say it out loud.” 

You’re effectively dazed out of your goddamn mind at this point, using all the self-control you’ll have for the rest of a lifetime to not grab onto his shirt and pull him into you, all inhibitions lost to the wind. You wouldn’t even care if anyone walked in, you just needed him on you, touching you, kissing you right now. But there’s a tiny part of you that’s still mad at him, and fortunately that tiny part of you pulls through. “If you think trying to seduce me is going to make me not angry anymore, you’re out of luck.”

“I’m not trying to seduce you. You think this is me trying to seduce you? If that’s so, I’m starting to worry you won’t be able to take it,” he whispers that last part so suggestively that you’re weak in the knees from his words. He seemed so different, entirely preoccupied by taking in the sight of every inch of you in front of him that any sense of shame or guilt has left his body, and he’s just looking at you with desire. 

“Satoru…” is all you manage to say as you look up at him, your thighs clenching from the arousal of just his presence surrounding you. 

You see him close his eyes for a second and exhale before he opens them, his pupils all the way dilated and wild when he looks at you again. “Yeah?” he responds, his head dipping down towards yours slightly, lips just inches from yours, like he’s waiting for your permission to act. 

“I…” you start, blinking up at him through your lashes, “...I was having a lot of fun earlier throwing back shots of tequila, and you kind of ruined that. So, if you’ll excuse me, I’d like to get back to it.” You place a hand on his chest, his gaze dropping to it in surprise as he watches you push him away from you all the way until his back hits the fridge with a thud.

“What the fuck?” he utters, his face contorted into a confusion you found incredibly comical.

You press up against him, looking up with round eyes and innocence, and you feel him immediately tense up. “Also, very inappropriate to treat someone you barely know like that. I’ll let it slide, though.” 

The last thing you see before you turn away from him is his shocked expression, blinking at you with the rest of him practically motionless, and you skip out of the kitchen towards the main party happening around the corner out of his sight. 

There were bustling people, a few guys coming up to you to talk to you, but you ignore them until you spot Geto, Nanami, some of the other soccer players, and a bunch of other people huddled around in a circle. You tap on Geto’s shoulder and he turns around to face you.

“Oh! Hey, what’s up, you made it,” Geto greets you, pulling you in for a brief hug which surprises you but was also pleasantly received as you hugged him back with a friendly pat. You could smell the alcohol from him. When he pulls away from you, he’s beaming. “We’re all doing rounds of shots, wanna join?”

“Oh my god, the words I’ve been wanting to hear all night,” you say and you join the circle, a bunch of people cheering as they usher you towards the center and you grab a shot glass from the small round table. A group of maybe fifteen people all raise their shot glasses up in the air, you included, and say some incoherent, non-rehearsed words of luck for the soccer team’s game tomorrow before everyone throws back their shots. You’re squealing and jumping up and down in excitement with Geto and watch as Nanami pretends to throw back his shot before dumping its contents into a red plastic solo cup in his hand instead.

“This is so much fun!” you’re yelling. “Can we do another?”

“Hey! New girl wants to do another,” one of the frat dudes calls out, which is followed by cheers and then messy pouring of tequila all over the table as people extend their shot glasses out to be filled. 

Two, three, four, eventually five is your limit until you wander away from the circle, entirely tipsy at this point, over to where people were dancing in front of the DJ’s booth. You bump into some couples that were grinding up on each other, your drunk conscience shamelessly watching their movements, and then accidentally bump into a man so hard that it almost sends you falling back onto the ground but he grabs your arm and keeps you upright. His drink spills a bit out of his hand and onto your dress, making you giggle like a freak. 

“Shit, I’m so sorry,” he’s yelling to you over the music.

“No, I’m sorry,” you yell back, and then you notice he’s wearing a jacket that mimics the patterns of the school’s soccer jersey and has an embroidered player’s number on the chest. It hits you that you’ve seen him on the field before briefly during the practices you’ve been to. “Are you on the soccer team?”

“Yeah, I am,” he says and he tells you his name but the music is way too loud to hear it, and you’re also sort of drunk at this point to register it anyways. But he was cute, and you decided you wanted to dance with him, and dance away is exactly what you do. 

When he twirls you around and presses his chest against your back, your line of sight falls straight ahead to where you see Gojo sitting on a couch. Your heart sinks in your chest when you see a girl place a hand on his thigh and lean towards him, practically sitting in his lap, but the look on his face tells you he’s entirely distracted by something else. His eyes search the room for a few seconds, and when they land on you, he stills. When he tilts his head up to peer behind you and sees who you were dancing with, a look of shock crossed his face. 

For fucks sake, you wouldn’t flirt with one of his teammates, right?

In your drunk, hazy mind, Mina’s words flash by in your head. The foolproof way to tell how a guy really feels about you is based on how he reacts when he sees another guy’s tongue shoved down your throat.

You turn around, reach up and pull the man you were dancing with down towards you, and you kiss him. The man hesitates, clearly surprised, before moving his lips against yours and just when you feel his hands make their way to your waist, you’re being yanked away from him by the arm. When you turn to look at the perpetrator, you see a very viscerally angry-looking Gojo in front of you and a chill runs down your spine.

Oh god, he looked pissed. If looks could kill, you’d be six feet under right now. 

He pulls you by your forearm over to the stairs, and you’re protesting, trying to yank away from his harsh grip, but he doesn’t budge as he takes you up to the second floor and just when you two have made it into the secluded hallway, he pushes you up against the wall, caging you into it with his body.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” he scowls at you, leaning in closer, tone so searing it’s enough to set you on fire.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” you yell back at him, anger rising within you.

“You’re seriously turning out to be a real fucking pain in the ass,” he hisses the words, his eyes darting across your face before settling on your lips.

“Why do you care? I’m just-” you start but he interrupts you when his lips crash down on yours, taking you by surprise. His kiss was hungry, ravenous, all-consuming. So different from that night when he kissed you for the first time with nothing but tenderness. This one felt like he wanted to take everything from you, leaving nothing behind. His hands find your waist, pulling you closer to him, and your arms slide up past his shoulders, locking behind his neck, and he’s groaning against your mouth before biting at your bottom lip. When you grant him access, he deepens the kiss and the taste of him intoxicates you.

“If you imply that you’re just a stranger to me one more fucking time,” he’s growling against your mouth, “I’ll make sure we get real well acquainted with eachother against this wall right now.” His hands find the flesh underneath your ass and he easily hoists you up, your legs immediately wrapping around his waist. “Ask me if I give a fuck if anyone sees.”  

“Oh my god,” you’re gasping, his words hitting you straight to your core, and when you feel his clothed erection pressed against the flimsy cloth of your panties, the self-resolution you once had was all but a distant memory. “Satoru, bathroom, please, not here.”

When you tip your head back, giving him access to your neck and he immediately indulges, peppering kisses down your skin, you roll your hips against his and he squeezes the flesh of your ass hard to reprimand the motion before he takes you into the bathroom, shutting the door behind him, then setting you up on the counter. 

His kisses get lower until he’s at your collarbone, and he pulls you forward towards him on the surface to where you’re sitting at the edge and he has his hands digging at the soft flesh of your thighs. You’re squirming in his grasp, gripping onto his shirt for any sort of purchase. When his kissing reaches the neckline of your dress and his finger hooks the fabric, threatening to pull it down, he looks at you. 

“Please,” you ask him simply.

He raises an amused eyebrow, pulling down the fabric slowly to just above where your nipples would be set free. “You think you’re in a position to ask for anything from me right now?”

“Oh my fucking god I swear, if you don’t yank my dress down, I’ll choke you,” you threaten him. 

“Careful, pretty, I might be into that,” he chides, pressing a kiss to your chest.

You grab the wrist of the hand that was still hooked inside your cleavage, and pull it down harshly so your tits are set free and he leans away from you to take in the sight. He’s mesmerized for a moment, his hand wrapping around your rib cage and thumb poking the softness from the side before it eventually reaches your nipple and starts to play with it. “God, you’re so beautiful. Remind me why we didn’t do this the first night we met?”

When his mouth latches onto your nipple, you tip your head back with a moan and you’re not able to come up with an answer to his question. Because he was right, it was insane that the two of you didn’t. Your hand runs through the short hair of his undercut at the nape of his neck and then grips at the soft strands a bit higher as he sucks and licks at your breasts. You wrap your legs around him tighter, pulling his hips to you, and from the edge of the counter you start to roll your wet panties against the bulge at his front to get relief. He groans against your chest before pulling away. 

“You need to relax. Real fuckin’ desperate now compared to when you were pushing me away in the kitchen thirty minutes ago,” he scolds, his lips finding yours again and one of his hands trails up the skin of your thigh. You open your legs even wider for him sweetly and he smiles against your lips, his fingers brushing the skin of your inner thigh and then finally pressing against your clothed core. You instantly jolt, entirely stimulated by the contact, and he pulls away from the kiss to watch you. 

“S-Satoru…” you whimper because it’s all you can manage to say, your hips pushing forward, craving more of his touch, but he withdraws from your heat all together and steps away from you, his grip on your hips dragging you forward until you step down from the counter and you’re standing in front of him, looking up like you don’t even know how to breathe unless he talks you through it. He turns you around to where you’re facing the mirror, and it’s the first time you take a look at how messed up he’s gotten you. Your cheeks were flushed, lips swollen, eyes a little teary from the lust consuming you. Your tits that appeared plush and perked by the haphazard way the neckline of your dress was tucked underneath them were glistening with his saliva and you felt like you were about to go insane at the sight. You take a look at his face in the reflection, and he too looked like he was about to go insane at the sight. 

“Bend over the counter,” he demands with a rough voice, but you don’t have much of a choice since he’s pushing down on your back anyways. You’ve risen up onto your tiptoes to accommodate the position and he lazily flips the fabric of your dress up over your ass before his hands hook into the side of your panties at your hips, pulling them down, and you feel the fabric practically peel off of you from how wet you were. And then he was on his knees behind you.

“Fuck, why didn’t we do this the first night we met?” he laments, marveling at the sight of you bent over for him.

“You already asked that question,” you mumble. 

“Cause it still doesn’t make any fucking sense to me,” he sighs and then he drags his index finger into your folds, from your entrance that was sopping wet all the way down to your clit. You’re wiggling, pushing your hips out towards him, and you hear him let out a low, guttural sound in his chest at the sight. His finger experimentally pushes into you and you’re gasping, hand slamming against the mirror.

“You’re so sensitive. Need a second?” he asks like he’s genuinely looking out for you, and yet he doesn’t wait before pushing another finger into you regardless. 

“Mhh..n-no, just need your tongue,” you say through a shaky breath, panting from where you were on the counter. 

He groans at your request and pulls his fingers out of you, instantly making you whine, before giving you a different reason to whine when his tongue presses against your clit.

Your mind was going insane, still registering the shock that this was happening as you moaned from the feeling of his tongue on you, mouth latching on and sucking harshly at your sensitive core that has you writhing and grasping onto anything you could find for purchase. The man that was making a mess at the most intimate part of you right now seemed so different from that kind man last week that pressed that chaste kiss to your lips. This was like you had just summoned the devil and he was on his knees behind you.

You make a mental note to never doubt any of Mina’s advice ever again.

When his hungry lapping at your clit turns into slow, lazy licks against your folds, you whimper above him and attempt to grind against his mouth so his tongue is where you want it. “Mm…p-please, stop teasing, I wanna cum.” 

He pulls his mouth from you and you feel how slick he’s made you, nothing but a mess of your arousal and his spit, before he pushes two fingers inside you and stretches you out inside with them. “But do you deserve to cum, is the question, sweetheart,” he drawls, curling his fingers inside and pressing on that spot that had your walls fluttering around him and building that tight knot in your lower tummy. 

“Yes, I do, fuck,” you’re moaning as he slowly starts to pump his fingers in and out of you, “less talking, more licking my clit.”

His other hand finds your clit, fingers beginning to rub agonizingly slow circles, and you can feel the texture of his calluses across every single nerve ending of the aching bud. “What was that, baby? You want me to be stingy with my tongue? Alright, whatever you say, princess,” he sighs it like he has no choice but to be a fucking dick right now.

“No, oh my god, don’t be stingy with your tongue,” you cry out, your cheek pressing up against the mirror from the sheer desperation of wanting a release, “I’ll kill you.” 

“Can’t make you cum if I’m dead,” he purrs. “God, your pussy’s going crazy right now, clenching around my fingers like it’s got a mind of its own. Can’t wait to fuck you,” he’s groaning, “so sweet, so tight, so wet. Exactly how I imagined it.”

“Y-You’ve imagined this?” you whimper to him when he starts to fully fuck you with his fingers. 

“So many fucking times,” he grumbles, his other hand now gripping your ass and thumb spreading you more open. You blush from how exposed you felt to him, but the noises he was making from the deepest part within his chest made you realize he was a freak for it. He pulls his fingers out of you and then uses both hands to spread your folds apart as he laps at the wetness that was practically dripping from your entrance. “What your world would be like if this was your little ‘terms and conditions’ favor instead.”

His tongue latches onto your clit again and your knees almost buckle. “M-Make me cum and maybe I’ll finally regret the fact that it wasn’t,” you say to him, desperate to coax something feral from him that finally grants you release of the tension building at your core. You’re unable to stay still, squirming and squealing above him, so hopelessly at his mercy.

“Say you’ll never kiss another guy except me ever again,” you hear him grumble with his face still buried in your cunt.

“w-what…” you say, exhaling incredulously, “S-Satoru…you don’t make any sense…we’re not even dat-”

“Say it, and I’ll let you cum,” he tells you simply, pulling his mouth from you again just when you felt like you were about to topple over and you’re about ready to kick him in the face at this point. You try to look over your shoulder to read his facial expression but when his fingers take their position over your clit and he starts to draw stars, you quickly give up and rest your forehead on the mirror. Oh god, this was good, if he just kept going-

As if he could read your mind, he pulls his fingers from your clit entirely, leaving your core agonizingly empty from any part of his touch, and it makes you gasp. You’ve never felt more betrayed in your life.

“Oh my god, okay okay okay!” you’re screaming, sticking your ass out to him and he’s chuckling at the sight. “I’ll never kiss another guy again! Fucking hell, Satoru, please, just make me cum,” you beg, whimpering and almost crying, your thighs twitching from the urge to clench together for some form of relief in his absence.

He seems satisfied by your begging, because he immediately grabs your ass with both hands, one of his thumbs pushing shallowly into your drenched entrance, and then his mouth finds your clit again. You close your eyes shut, and you could feel that you were just seconds away from cumming as he simultaneously sucks and licks relentlessly on the sensitive bundle of nerves. It’s when he groans against your center with such a primal frequency, sending shockwaves of vibrations to your center and throughout your entire body, that you fall apart for him and you come undone so violently that your knees entirely give out, and you’re screaming his name. He wraps an arm around your legs to keep you from falling as you squirm on the counter, your walls pulsing and clenching, hips twitching, and then you’re finally calming down. You lay blissfully on the surface, head down, breathing heavily with soft, remnant whimpers leaving your lips.

You hear Gojo let out a short exhale from behind you that almost sounds like he’s in disbelief. When you turn slightly to look back at him, you see he’s palming himself through his pants and looking directly at your cunt. “You’re dripping onto the floor, fuck.” He catches a drop of slick, clear arousal as it falls from your entrance, immediately bringing it to his tongue and licking it off his finger before standing up. 

You barely manage to push your upper body up so that you’re standing, shaking arms working overtime to hold yourself up, and he comes up behind you to press his chest against your back, looking at you in the mirror. He was breathing heavily too, his mouth near your ear and his eyes lidded with lust. You reach your arm up and behind him to grab at the soft tufts of hair at the back of his head, your back arching from the motion, and he groans as he pushes his clothed erection against your ass, head dropping close to your shoulder from the pleasure and he presses a kiss to your skin. The image in front of you, with his broad shoulders and frame completely engulfing yours whole, your hips slightly rocking forwards and pushing against the counter from his indulgent grinding behind you, his hand reaching up to pinch and play with your nipple, it was all so erotic that you were already aching for more. He effectively finger-fucked, licked, and sucked the anger out of you, and that was a dangerous fact. 

His fingers grazed up the side of your waist that the fabric of your dress still clung tightly to, and he loosely held onto you, sighing against the back of your neck which sent shivers down your spine. His eyes meet yours in the mirror. “So pretty like this. Turn around and face me, baby, reflection’s not enough,” he says to you and you do as he says, twirling around. His eyes take in the sight of you, his thumb coming up to press at the soft flesh of your breast and you can see it in his eyes that he was worshipping you. 

You finally take in the entire image of his appearance. His chest was heaving, hair disheveled, shirt was wrinkled at the front from when you were grabbing onto it earlier. There’s a crease to his brow when he looks at you, and you realize that this is not the first time you’ve seen him look exactly like this in a party bathroom. Except the last time, it was from reasons other than your own.

And then there’s that sinking feeling in your chest again.

Just when you observe that spark of intense lust in his eyes, pupils dilated like wild, see it flash through his mind that he thinks he’s about to get lucky with you tonight, you find yourself pushing him away from you for the second time tonight. You’ve got him with his back pressed up against the wall while he looks down at you with confusion, and this time there’s desperation and panic there too.

You look up at him with a discerning softness, and all those tender feelings you’ve been experiencing for the past week come crashing down on you all at once, but your heart aches with their memory. When his eyes study your face, there’s a brief second where he’s surprised to see the way you’re looking at him, and his jaw clenches slightly. 

“Thanks, I really needed this,” you whisper to him, hand patting his chest reassuringly as you try to keep your composure in front of him despite the hollow feeling in your chest, “gave me some clarity. Don’t follow me.” And then you step away from him, pull your panties back up into place, adjust the neckline of your dress up over to cover your chest, then you make your way to exit.

“What? Wait-” he scrambles, sounding stunned from behind you as you open the bathroom door, walk right out into the hallway and close the door behind you, not all the way but just enough so you were out of his line of sight.

You sigh to yourself for a second as you step to the side, fixing at your hair, then take a deep breath as you walk down the hall. It registers in your mind that he listens, never following after you. 

a/n. reader is soooo messy for doing this to him right before his big game lol i'm like scared for her even though i'm literally the author hahha. i hope to see you in the next one! much love

➸ take me to chapter seven!

tag list: @who-can-touch-my-boob @getitsatoru @kissofife @tiredflame132 @cliosunshine @ethereally-lyann @prince-wyiilder @slut-4-gojo @cactisjuice (decided to tag all interacts too just so it's not missed if that's ok! love you all sm)

[ferrstappen]

primero llegó verstappen l MV1

a/n: MONACO by Bad Bunny. that's it that's the tweet. this isn't very long and its all over the place but I hope you like it <3

summary: Suddenly, Max isn't annoyed about being featured in a music video.

Max couldn't stop staring at himself in the mirror of a tent full of outfits, cameras and people moving from one place to another. In his mind he already did enough promo for the team, more than enough after being crowned World Champion for the third time and a huge contributor to the comfortable win of the Constructors Championship as well.

Maybe appearing in a music video was where he draw the line?

He wouldn't have an issue if it was him on his fireproofs doing a couple of laps in some closed circuits, maybe even some hot laps, but having to pose next to his RB19, wearing a faux leather jacket and showing one of his TAG Heuer Monaco Titan, because he was a walking billboard, was a little too much on his books, especially as a make up artist mixed different shades of some foundation, and Max was trying really hard not to take offense after he told him "his dark circles were incredibly hard to conceal".

Here he was doing favors and in return was being offended by his lack of sleep and naturally pale complexion.

He almost laughed after noticing Checo staring at himself in the mirror, the same confused and uncomfortable look on his face, and the same tight jacket as they contemplated the marina from above.

In conclusion, yes, this was well above his paycheck. Max also wouldn't deny he didn't thrill on the presence of paparazzi in quiet Monaco. granted, they were looking for the big star who was doing some shots around the city, walking hand in hand with his model girlfriend, but he could still make out some yelling for him and Checo.

Then, his day took a turn.

Some crew members wearing headphones and what he assumed were the assistants approached him and Checo, telling them this wouldn't take long since all they had to do was walk around the car, get in and out of the car, with and without the helmet, all while blasting the song.

A very catchy and good song that mentioned he was the first one to cross the finish line. At least he couldn't complain about that.

But he was internally complaining when, once again, he found himself on the make up chair with the same make up artist who had a problem with his dark circles, but this time the place was much different.

A sharp suit and this time a heavy Patek Philippe on his wrist as he walked inside the Casino of Monte Carlo. Now he was greeted by Bad Bunny himself, who thanked him many many times for being a part of this, and in return Max thanked him for even thinking of him for his song. They fell into a comfortable conversations about cars when the singer motioned for two girls to come over, one Max recognized as Kendall Jenner, the other he didn't know but was eager to.

"Max, this is mi novia, Kendall, and this is her friend (y/n). They're doing some stuff on the background, don't they look incredible?"

Max swore the designer dress you were wearing was painted on you, because there was no way it could fit so perfectly on your body, with a couple of stray hairs adorning your face and long eyelashes accentuating your eyes.

"It's so nice to meet you, I'm such a big fan of motorsport," you stretched your hand and it caught Max off guard, not really knowing what to do.

So he panicked and gave you a weird handshake before lifting your hand to his lips and leaving a kiss, and he had never felt more like a creep, but he noticed you blushing and a giggle leaving your lips.

You wanted to add something when the crew called everyone to start shooting, Benito and Kendall leading the way, and the only thing Max thought of doing was to offer you his arm which you gladly accepted.

The song was blasting as everyone pretended to talk and surround the roulette, but you and Max weren't pretending to laugh or to talk.

He even left Checo by himself, he'd forgive him eventually.

"I'm pretty sure the camera is on us in this moment," you told him through gritted teeth, trying to keep a perfect smile.

"What should we do?" Max asked, trying to hide his smile while doing his best to give you his best seductive stare.

You knew he was flirting with you and it was surprising. After seeing him on screens and social media you figured he'd be cocky, not having any trouble flirting with women every weekend on different countries, figuring out a way with foreign languages, but you never pictured him as a giddy, easily flushed, good for banter man, and the only thing you wanted was to leave this shoot and have him show you the city, dressed to the nines and maybe pretending to be cold in the end so he could put his jacket over your shoulders, and that way you could see him with just a white shirt and undone tie.

But you were getting a bit ahead of yourself, especially when you heard the director yell cut and tell you and Max to pay attention to the instructions, earning you the glare of everyone in the room.

"Ey, cabrón, que se están enamorando, déjalos solos!" Hey, they're falling in love, leave them alone. Those were Benito's words.

And God, was he right.

[reminiscingtonight]

baking kitchen mess (aitana bonmatí)

Recipe For Relaxing (Aitana Bonmatí x Reader)

A/N: Barca you're massive 💪

[WOSO Masterlist]

It’s been a long day.

First, your ever lovely girlfriend drank what was left of the coffee and left for an early training without even telling you.

Then your alarm clock seemingly forgot how to do its job, leaving you, still barely awake with no caffeine in sight, to scramble to make it to work on time.

The meeting you slipped into was already in motion, multiple eyes zeroing in on you as you tried to sneak in undetected. So with a healthy dose of tiredness and shame following you to your classroom, you really hoped that your rambunctious lot of third graders would magically surprise you with manners fit for royalty.

It really shouldn’t have irked you as much as it did when all twenty-five of them seemed to catch the wiggle-bug. Nobody was able to sit for more than a couple minutes without jumping or shouting what was on their minds.

By the time the clock signaled the end of the school day you were more than ready to rip out your hair. As politely as you could you wished all of your students goodbye, waving at their grinning faces as their parents herded them away.

Any hope you had at relaxing was dashed when you noticed the cars lining the street all the way up to your driveway.

Sighing, you drove a bit further away before parking on the curb, knowing better than to expect the girls to leave you a clear spot to park in your own driveway.

Mumbling under your breath you stepped over the shoes discarded carelessly by the door. Although you could hear laughter wafting from the living room, you took the side door to get a well needed beer from the fridge. As much as you loved Aitana and all twenty of her clubmates, you needed something to help rewind before even entertaining the idea of playing host.

The second your foot crosses the doorway leading into your kitchen however, you freeze. Your fingers tighten against the doorframe as you take in the sight in front of you.

Something was baking in the oven, but dirty bowls littered your counters, as did half-used ingredients. Flour covered almost every surface, even tracking throughout the ground. 

Clearly the girls had never heard of leaving things as they found it. 

You shut your eyes, jaw clenching so hard that you know your dentist will be giving you an earful when you see her next.

“Aitana Bonmatí Conca, what the hell did you do to my kitchen?!”

The chattering ceases instantly. 

Angrily turning around, you stomp into the living room to give the girls a piece of your mind.

You’re met with wide guilty eyes, the footballers looking scolded before you even started. 

“Hola bebé, you’re home early.” Aitana gives you a timid grin but you’re not amused.

Your nose flares angrily as you take another step forward. Everyone flinches when you shove a finger into Aitana’s chest. “Clean up my kitchen. Now.”

The air is silent as no one dares to move.

You quirk an eyebrow, tilting your head to make eye contact with the rest of the team. “Now! Pronto! Move your asses girls! I wanted it spotless yesterday!”

It’s like a hurricane storming when everyone scrambles up all at once. Quiet apologies are thrown your way as they pass by, everyone eager to escape your anger.

Aitana tries to sneak away with her teammates but your hand clamps down on her arm before she can even take a step.

“I love you?” she tries, deflating when she sees your unamused look.

“Aitana, babe, love of my life, I love you but you’re the bane of my existence. I’m exhausted and would love it if you could reign in the girls and not make messes for me to clean up.”

A look of determination crosses her face as Aitana nods quickly. “I will do a better job of cleaning up.”

“Thank you,” you sigh, relaxing a bit when Aitana timidly leans forward to give your forehead a soft kiss.

Your girlfriend takes it as a win when she wraps her arms around you and you instantly sink into her hold. The exhaustion from your day seemingly catches up to you as you sway dangerously, ready to go to bed despite it still being early. 

Sighing, you rub at your eyes before gently pushing Aitana off of you. “Thank you for putting up with me. ‘M sorry for yelling.”

“It’s okay, I’m sure you’ve had a long day. Is there anything I could do for you?”

Humming, you give her a kiss when she leans forward for one.

“Could you go get me a beer and tell the rest of the girls that they don’t have to hide in the kitchen from me?”

“I--” Aitana winces. “I think we’re out.”

When Ingrid pokes her head out of the kitchen a couple minutes later, selected by the bunch as the least likely to get her head bitten off by you, she’s met with the sight of you sitting on the couch, feet thrown up on the table as you mindlessly flip through the TV.

You hold up a stack of papers towards the Norwegian. 

“Got a new team bonding activity for you heathens.”

Aitana sighs when she catches sight of the rest of her teammates with each of their own personalized shopping lists at the store down the street. 

“She got you guys too?”

[taegimood]

(edit: this was literally just supposed to be a quick casual thought idk how it got SO LONG help me wtf 😭)

thinking abt you and bestfriend!roommate!gyu making a bet on who would last the longest for no nut november, which was supposed to just be a silly stupid thing, except the two of you are competitive as hell with each other and can’t help but attempt sabotage whenever possible.

it starts with beomgyu doing little things to try and rile you up, getting to the point of blatantly and obviously trying to turn you on, which of course for you means war.

it’s just several weeks of building tension and sexual frustration, becoming increasingly harder to even be around each other, and the line begins to blur when neither of you can really tell if you’re doing these things “to win the bet” anymore.

when beomgyu has his big hand placed a little too dangerously over your upper thigh while sitting next to you, or when he’s snaking an arm around your waist to lean in and say something “because it’s too loud in here” as his bulge presses against your tummy.. or when he purposefully walks past you after a shower wearing nothing but a low-hanging towel with water dripping down his body — well, it’s just for the bet, right? then why is he itching to do so much more?

and when you sit square on his lap to “show him a video” and make sure that you’re shifting right over his hardening cock, or when you’re leaning forward on the kitchen counter while he’s stuttering over whatever story he was telling as he sees your breasts pushed together down your shirt; when your face hovers so close to his that if you were to speak, your lips would touch, only for you to pull away as if nothing happened — well, it’s just for the bet, of course… isn’t it? then why can’t you stand not touching him right now?

with the horny tension and confused feelings comes snappy attitudes, and by the third week you’re challenging each other in a different way, petty arguments that lead to glaring at each other with looks that say well? are you gonna make a move or not? and thus your dumb, playful bet has evolved into something else entirely.

it all comes to a peak when jealousy gets involved; yeonjun invites you guys to a party that you leave for separately, hoping to blow off some steam, and yet the pettiness clearly doesn’t stop there as things are taken to a new level when — like a couple of teenagers — you attempt to make each other jealous (although you’d both refuse to admit it). you grinding on one of yeonjun’s friends and beomgyu kissing down the neck of some girl does nothing but escalate everything that had been building up over the last three weeks, and when beomgyu arrives back at your shared apartment shortly after you had left early in an aggravated rush — (he had followed after you, of course, after seeing how upset you were..) — the argument that you expected to have ends up morphing into something completely different.

there’s blame that gets thrown around, there’s excuses under the pretense of the bet, there’s an attempt from both sides to push down the feelings that were inevitably bubbling over the surface…

and then he kisses you.

you’re frozen in place for a moment. time stops before crashing back into motion all at once, and then your arms are gripping his shoulders and pulling him in, your tongues colliding as he backs you into the kitchen counter, groaning desperately into your mouth as he tugs your body impossibly closer against his. you don’t remember how you got to his bedroom, or when either of your clothes met the floor, but when he enters you it’s like every single feeling and hormone in your body boils over at once into a cascading flood.

he’s fucking into you so deep, so fast, his pace unrelenting as you moan shamelessly and filthily into his pillows. the bed is shaking and his headboard is knocking against the wall but he doesn’t stop as his hips slap firmly against your ass over and over — the lewdest words spilling endlessly from his lips in the process.

you’re fucking mine, you understand? only i can fuck you like this. only i can fuck you as good as you deserve.

you have no fucking idea how long i’ve wanted this.. been such a little tease everywhere we go.. making me want you more and more every day, FUCK, i’ve wanted you so bad. wanted this pretty pussy wrapped all around my cock, every second of the fucking day.. as if you have no idea what you do to me.

you just love to tease me, huh? love to get me hard and then leave me there as if i wouldn’t do anything about it? you’ve been such a brat, should i even let you cum?

….fuck, baby, squeeze me like that and i won’t even last. fuck it, fuck, gonna make you cum so hard that all you can remember is my name. gonna make you squirt all over my fucking cock.

you like that? huh? like it when i throw you around? wanna be a good baby and squirt for me?

beomgyu has always been a talker, his engine never seeming to run out of fuel; but the way he rambles total filth right now as he fucks you mercilessly has you hoping that he never ever learns to shut up. you’ve already came twice by the third position he’s flipped you into, and you’re so completely fucked out by his cock and his hands and his words that you don’t even process the moment when the final band of pressure snaps and you’re squirting all over his cock and abs, soaking his sheets, relishing in the guttural moan and the fuck yes, that’s it, fuck, baby, fuck- that he lets out as he fucks you harder into his own climax and fills you deep with his hot spurts of cum. you don’t even have the mind space right now to hope that your neighbors aren’t home as you keen wantonly at the sensation of the most powerful orgasm that you’ve ever had; and from your best friend, of all people.

your chest is heaving and your legs are complete jelly as beomgyu carefully lowers them from his shoulders, straightening you out and slowly sliding out of you with a wince. you can barely feel your body. you’re on some sort of cloud 9 as he stares down at you, incredulous, panting heavily, hands resting on your thighs as he remains sitting between them, speechless. rivulets of your release are dripping down his abdomen and you don’t even have it in you to feel embarrassed as you meet his eyes.

“holy fuck.”

his voice is raspy, breathless. “i didn’t know you could do that.”

“i didn’t know i could do that.” you echo, in even more disbelief than he is.

it’s silent for a few moments as you catch your breaths before beomgyu speaks again. “that was… literally the best sex i’ve ever had.”

he pauses, as if searching for the words, unsure of what your reaction may be. “and i think… no, i.. i know.. that it’s because it was with you.” his nose scrunches up into a cringe at his own sentiment, hesitant gaze lowering to avoid yours, and you know there’s more he wants to say even though he’s not saying it.

“gyu, if i had the strength right now, i’d already be kissing the fuck out of you,” you mumble, and his face lights up as he meets your eyes again. a cocky grin graces his face in seconds and you have half a mind to roll your eyes as the uncertainty is gone and your familiar gyu is back when he asks, “oh yeah? should i come down there then?”

a lengthy conversation ensues as he cuddles you against his body, hands running up and down your skin as you discuss everything, establishing proper feelings and apologies — and when that’s done and you’re both cleaned up and moved from his room to yours (“i’ll wash my sheets in the morning” “ew, gyu”) he’s peppering your neck in kisses and pulling you in again as your sore muscles are eased by his steady hands.

(“you’re seriously so hot.. i know i told you to, but i can’t believe you actually squirted. like.. that was so fucking hot.” this boy cannot get it out of his head.)

exhaustion eventually catches up with the both of you, and after mindless pillow talk and finally putting out the lights, you’re almost asleep when you hear a sigh from beside you.

“i guess we both lost no nut november, then, huh? :/“

[lavenderfilledcoffin]

rest

verb

cease work or movement in order to relax, refresh oneself, or recover strength.

•*¨*•.¸¸♪✧•*¨*•.¸¸

It had already been a long run.

It had been approximately forty three hours since you had come down to the expedition site.

That's when you found out you were 'immortal'.

Your first death was brutal and painful.

You'd been killed by what Sebastian calls 'pandemonium'.

"Caught you off guard?" He spoke, pulling the document away from your view.

You shook your head, letting the memory be temporarily forgotten, focusing on the present.

You were nearing Sebastian's shop. You really needed a nap...

With your unwanted experience of the dangers down here, you easily passed by the doors.

Well. Somewhat easily.

Those damn turrets, it’s unfair how they have aimbot…

One of the bullets just narrowly avoided hitting your head, horrifying…

You stared at where the bullet landed.

After what felt like four minutes, you looked back up, deciding that you had a grudge against bullets now.

You quickly ran past the turret’s line of sight, and shut the power off, moving on to the next door.

It felt like your limbs had been set ablaze from the overexertion of your muscles, but after a nap, you’re sure it would go away. Hopefully.

The familiar noise of the vent cover falling onto the floor made you giddy. Finally.

“Hey, friend. Over here.” The sound of Sebastian’s voice nearly made you cry tears of joy. You don’t think you’ve ever felt more happier.

You kneeled down, making your way through the vent, and entered his shop.

“It’s good to see you again!” Sebastian made a small waving motion with his third hand, letting it fall to his side afterwards.

“…You look like shit.” He had to stifle a laugh by biting his lip harshly. “Thanks…”

You sighed, rubbing your right eye.

You walked towards the desk nearest to him, gently dumping out the contents of your bag so as not to smash any glass vials that contained DNA. It was a generous haul, you must say, at least worth over a thousand.

“What’s all this for? Wanna buy my file?” You shook your head at his words.

“I want to rest, please.”

“Listen. This isn’t a charity, so—“

“Seb. Please?” Sebastian stared at you. Sure, he was extremely fond of you, but that doesn’t mean he has to treat you like you were royalty.

That data was very tempting, though.

“Fine. Go ahead.” He crossed his arms, pointing to the corner.

“What is this, timeout?”

“Go in the damn corner and sleep before I change my mind.”

You turned your back to him, rolling your eyes before going to where he pointed.

There was a plushie of… someone? You grabbed it from behind the locker and held it close.

You curled up beside the plush and placed your cheek onto its head, shutting your eyes.

The position you were in wasn’t exactly comfortable, but it worked.

You fell asleep shortly after.

Sebastian watched you with curious eyes.

He felt creepy for watching you sleep, but he couldn’t help it.

You looked so peaceful.

He moved from his corner to yours, grabbing a few plush blankets he stole from a worker’s locker.

Trying not to wake you, Sebastian lifted you up, placed a blanket beneath you, and another over you.

You looked so cozy, he couldn’t help but smile at the sight.

He went back to his corner, holding his hand in his other like usual.

Sebastian didn’t bother you, he didn’t know much about immortality, but he knew it was definitely exhausting having to die over and over again.

How did that work? He didn’t even know.

His eyes fell back onto your sleeping form. Something inside of him tingled as he saw a small smile on your sleeping face.

How cute.

[liillyliilly]

take me home, please? sugawara koushi x reader content; helping out a co-worker when he had a headache really makes you feel like his mom sometimes- aka pure fluff words: 1120

Just how did you end up in these situations? Likely due to who you chose to be friends with.

So as you stood in front of Sugawara’s third grade class, talking about the school library, you couldn’t help but notice the shit-eating grin Koushi had on his face. The exact same face from high school. He had a raised eyebrow, and was jutting out his bottom a little in amusement at your dialogue.

You clasp your hands together, “Does anyone have any questions.”

In the back, Sugawara raises his hand while sitting at his teacher’s desk. You rephrase your statement, “Which of you students has a question about our school library?”

The bug-eyed seven and eight year olds looked at each other for a moment, then just blankly stared back at you.

You slowly nod, embracing the awkwardness. As the librarian at Ohya Elementary School, you weren’t really ever in charge of teaching lessons, you just talked to students about books when they would come for library time during the week. But Sugawara, your high school friend, now co-worker, had asked- no, practically begged- you to come and teach his students about all it takes to be a librarian.

Sugawara stood up, clapping his hands three times and his students copied the motion.

“Alrighty, Rose class, we’re on lunch duty today, go wash up. Make sure to thank our lovely librarian for teaching us a little bit about her job.”

The littles ran up to you, forming a single file line. One would bow, before rushing out the classroom to wash up. You kept repeating small slight bows with just your head. After 20 nods of your head, you felt a little dizzy, but could manage.

“Koushi, if you surprise me with having to talk to your students again, I won’t hesitate to complain to the administration. You’re the teacher, you’re the one who's supposed to teach.” You sit down on one of the little desks, your feet comfortably reaching the floor due to the lack of height to the small table.

Sugawara tucks his hands into his pockets, shrugging. He sits down next to you, on a separate desk, stretching his legs out across the rainbow carpet below your feet.

“I like it when you teach though, your eyes get that mix of fear and excitement.” He chuckles.

“Because your kids are freaking scary!” You whisper-yell, throwing a hand up in exasperation. “Ever seen a seven year old not act like an ankle biter? I don’t think so.”

You shiver a little, thinking about the grubby fingers. But all the students made up for the childish grossness they carried when they would hold a book up to you so you could check it out for them. The way they’d say thank you for helping them find a good book to read, or even when they’d ask to hold your hand when walking into the far back corner of your library. Those were the moments that made your job worth it in the end.

“Still, thank you for teaching a lesson. My headache is still pounding.” Sugawara holds a hand up to his temple, rubbing it in circles.

Even though it had been a shock when Sugawara poked his head into your office a few hours ago, you accepted his request fairly quickly. Because you could see the clenched jaw and squinted eyes he had in reaction to the brightness in your office.

“Mrs. Ito is going to take your class for their lunch duties yeah?” You ask, standing up from the table. Sugawara had asked the fellow third grade teacher to watch his kids for the rest of the day so he could go home to rest up. Mrs. Ito was a very no-nonsense woman, she would run his class like the army, but hopefully tomorrow Sugawara would be able to have an easier day.

You lean forward in front of Sugawara, place a hand on his forehead, and it burns. “Koushi, you’re running a fever!”

You keep your hand on his forehead, using your other hand to cup the back of his neck to tilt his face up to you a little. Then his neck starts to heat up under your fingers.

“Your neck is boiling, are you having a heat flash?” You lean closer.

Sugawara chokes on his saliva slightly, trying to put some space between his face and yours. The smell of your floral perfume, the soft touch of your hands, the criminally adorable nametag you had on your white cardigan, not to mention the baby blue dress you had on. It was all too overwhelming for him.

Clearly the blush was misinterpreted by you, which gave Sugawara some leeway. He put his hands on your hips and stood up, twisting you around so your calves hit the back of the small desk.

“I just need to get home, I think.” Sugawara loosens his hold on you, but keeps his hands hovering around you. Until you shake your head in understanding and slide out from between him and the desk.

“Are you good to drive home?” You grab your purse from the coat hook near the entrance of the class and pull it over your shoulder.

Sugawara sighs a little, putting on his best act to win over your pity. “I don’t think I’ll be able to.”

You frown, sad for Sugawara. He continues putting on his best portrayal of sickness- even though his headache was only a mild migrane and not one that required a trip to the hospital.

He pushes a little further into your friendship with him when he asks, "Take me home, please?"

It had become habit for him now, to request little things from you. He hoped that somewhere along the way, that his requests would endear you to him. Making you like him more and more, even if it was just out of friendly obligation sometimes.

“Ah, well, I can drive you then. Let’s go.” You always found yourself taking care of Sugawara one way or another, and this was just one of the ways you expressed your friendship and kindness for him.

Sugawara follows you to your car like a puppy.

Mrs. Ito has Rose class scooping up rice and putting it onto their peers plates. When she pauses to have the kids swap jobs, she gets a glimpse of you opening the car door for Sugawara through the window. Your head was down and focused on unlocking the vehicle.

Sugawara had his head in his hand, looking at you lovingly as he leaned against your car. Mrs. Ito almost, but didn’t, smile at the way her fellow third grade teacher was acting so twitterpated for the school librarian.

[wolfiesmoon]

A day to remember

Inumaki x gn!reader

this is a request!! thank u so much for requesting💗anyways time for jujutsu tech prom hehe😌 (lets pretend prom is a thing in japan and that there's actually enough students to do a cute thing like this lmaoo)

also since this is a prom fic, the second years are now third years and the first years are second years

@noomon one tag for uuuuu

The atmosphere was oddly lovey-dovey at Jujutsu Tech recently. Prom was just around the corner, so it wasn't exactly odd that spirits were high, but considering the usually grim faces that you see in the halls of the school, it does feel strange to see everyone so excited.

Then again, you suppose it is better to make the most of every day as a sorcerer and little joys like this are precisely what make all the death and injury worth it.

But, on the topic of prom... You don't know who to go with! You might just end up skipping out or going alone if you must (Gojo will probably force you to go). After all, prom isn't all about dancing with a guy and romantic stuff, it's about having fun with your friends and laughing at the memories you made as students of this school.

Or, well, for this kind of school, maybe some of the memories are better forgotten.

"Hey, senpai!" you heard a familiar voice behind you. It was Yuuji and Nobara! They often come to talk to you about random things so you aren't at all surprised to see them.

"Hello." you greet them, wondering what crazy story they'll tell you today.

"Do you already have a date for prom?" Yuuji and Nobara beamed.

"Do I- No, no I don't." that's the question you were expecting the least. Why are they asking you this anyways?

"Great." Nobara huffed, very satisfied with your answer. Yuuji seemed even more excited than before. You had little question marks floating above your head.

"Why are you happy about me being single? Are you two trying to tell me something?" your eyebrows furrowed slighly. But then again, Nobara and Yuuji are idiots (affectionately), so you don't think they're seriously trying to insult you.

"Oh, actually, it's because-"

Nobara slapped a hand over Yuuji's mouth before he could continue his sentence. "It's nothing, don't worry about it." she smiled at you, dragging Yuuji away and muttering something you couldn't quite catch.

Huh. How strange.

But now that you think about it, there is one person you'd really like to go to prom with.

.

The next day, Panda approaches you after class.

"Hey, you should like, totally follow after me right now. I have something to show you." Panda suggested cheerfully. And why not? Knowing Panda, he probably just has something funny or stupid to show you, which is always a pleasure.

As you followed him, a strange feeling started rising up inside you. You felt oddly fidgety and excited. Maybe it was the whole prom thing. I mean, with the strange conversation you had with the second years just yesterday is it that much of a stretch to assume that you're about to get confessed to via a prom invitation?

Nah, you shouldn't get ahead of yourself. If anything, Panda's going to let you in on someone else's promposal plan so you can help them out. Not that that's a bad thing, you just really get your hopes up sometimes.

You were being lead down a dimly lit hallway in one of the more secluded areas of the school. There was even candles here and there, to set the mood, you assume. Wow, this is really a last minute invitation. They're asking you to help out at the last possible moment, huh?

You soon found yourself in front of a group of students, all lined up to make a little walkway for you and Panda. Panda stops right at the end of the line, motioning for you to continue walking. All the other third years lined up were smiling knowingly at you. What in the world is going on?

You walked down the line of students a bit hesitantly, taking the flowers each of them handed you along the way. Oh wow, this is impressive. And also definitely means that this promposal is meant for you. You can feel your heart start beating faster with excitement when taking each rose into your hands.

Who orchestrated a confession so grand? Please be him...

Nobara handed you a rose when you walked by her, smiling proudly at you. Now the question from yesterday makes perfect sense.

At the end of the line of students, you saw a few of your classmates holding up signs that said "I know I'm not a man of many words, but I really need you to kelp me out here. It's almost prom night and you're still not together with me (which is criminal in my opinion). This isn't just a prom invitation, by the way. Will you go out with me tunaight?"

There's only one person that could have written those signs. Not just because of the familiar handwriting, but also because of the words he chose. And sure enough, Inumaki Toge was proudly holding up the middle sign, looking at you.

You clutched the makeshift boquet of roses in your hand. It was him after all.

In all three years of your schooling at JJT, you've found Inumaki Toge to be especially charming. You had a bit of trouble talking to him at first, but you quickly got along after you bridged the whole "onigiri ingredient" gap. Honestly, you don't know how long it's been since you felt... a special way about him.

It took you a while to realise, but you definitely like him. More than a friend.

And knowing it's mutual...

He looked at you with such hope in his eyes that it made you want to hug him and kiss him all over. And so you did.

The sign he was holding fell to the ground as you embraced him tightly and he immediately hugged you back, as if it were the most natural thing in the world to him. As if that is the place where you belong.

"Yes, yes, I'll go to prom with you!" you yelled happily, leading everyone around you to cheer. You didn't really notice it because you were busy kissing Inumaki's cheeks, but all the other third years looked satisfied, knowing their ship has sailed at long last.

"But bad onigiri ingredient puns, really? I'm feeling the second hand embarrasment real hard right now." your face scrunched up slightly, cringing.

He simply giggled quietly in response, squeezing you again.

You can't deny, that is so him.

[ageingfangirl2]

Size Does Matter! Red Hair Pirates (One Piece)

Part 1 (Never Have I Ever) Red Hair Pirates x Reader (female)

After the eventful never have I ever game the crew are nicer to you, less teasing and pranks because Shanks was right about you knowing secrets because you were kind and trusting until you were crossed.

You walk onto the deck after documenting a recent attack that went in the crew's favour, and like de ja vu the crew were gathered around. The only difference was that it was the middle of the day and they didn't seem drunk. Before you can turn around and head back inside you catch your captain's eye and he motions you over smirking.

You sigh loudly, 'What fresh hell do you have for me this time?'

You stop in your tracks and raise both eyebrows in shock and surprise, 'err why aren't you guys wearing shirts?' you question, only now noticing the bare torsos of the crew. There was never a dull day on this ship.

Shanks clears his throat, 'We need you to judge and tell us who has the best chest because you have no bias.'

You bite your lip and feel your cheeks heat up, 'and what triggered this contest?'

Yasopp slings his arm around your shoulder and it's not lost on you when he flexes, 'Honestly couldn't tell you, but now we need your help.'

You casually remove his arm and shake your head, 'I don't want to hurt anyone's feelings.'

Shanks chuckles, 'We won't judge your opinion. How about a top three instead of one?'

'Make it a top five,' Hongo interjects.

You nod, 'okay I think I can do a top five. I'll start with five and work my way up to one.'

Benn snorts, 'That didn't take much convincing doll. You have been looking?'

You shove Benn and pout, 'You guys use any excuse to strip, so yes I've looked. Do you want to be taken out of my top five?'

Benn's grin reaches his eyes, 'So I'm top five, I'm flattered doll.'

Shanks frowns and sticks out his lower lip, 'This is about physique, not friendship, so no favouring smoking buddies.'

You salute your captain, 'Fine no bias, but there's no denying Benn turns heads.'

'Let's get this show on the road,' Lime Juice calls out.

You take a deep breath and try not to laugh when they line up, 'Okay starting with number five...' you pause for dramatic effect, '...Building Snake because whenever he lifts me up I'm impressed.'

Building Snake winks at you, 'I'll take five.'

The rest of the crew stares at you eagerly.

'Number four would have to be Lime Juice because he works really hard,' you say nonchalantly.

Lime Juice and Building Snake fist bump.

You smile, getting into the groove, 'taking my third spot is Hongo because he's more subtle but catches your eye.'

Hongo beams with pride, 'Only two spots left captain, do you think you've made it?'

Shanks glares at Hongo who immediately shuts up.

'My number two chest goes to my smoking buddy, I mean look at him,' you laugh.

Benn salutes you, 'I'll take second.'

You eye up the remaining crew before pointing at Yasopp, 'Yasopp has the best chest, especially when he gives me gun lessons and holds me close.'

Yasopp rushes towards you picks you up around the waist and starts to spin you around, 'for once I beat the mighty Shanks, he didn't even make the list.'

Benn pats Shanks's shoulder, 'Better luck next time captain.'

Yasopp puts you down and you stumble a little, 'do you want to know why I didn't pick you, captain?'

Shanks nods, 'tell me.'

'Because your chest is on show like twenty-four seven and you have a little too much pride that comes across as boastful,' you answer honestly.

Shanks runs at you and you yelp before running away, 'Leave me alone.'

Mischief flashes behind his eyes and you take a step back out of fear, 'I'm going to make you change your mind love. Come here and touch your captain's chest.'

Shanks chases you around the ship while the others leave you two alone knowing how the chase will end, and it ends as everyone expects with the captain catching his prey.

You giggle loudly as Shanks wraps his arm around your waist and pulls you against his chest, 'touch my chest and tell me I'm not top five,' Shanks taunts playfully.

You place your hands on his chest admitting to yourself that his chest is equally impressive as the others, 'Top six at best captain, can't show bias towards my captain.'

Shanks growls, 'I'm going to climb your ranks mark my words.'

You pat his chest and smirk, 'Game on captain.'

You knew this wasn't going to be the end of this little competition. Maybe to avoid these situations in the future you should lock yourself in your room more.

[unseededtoast]

Shadow of Obsession | Spencer Reid x Reader

Finale

Series summary: In which you find that love is an obsession that can quickly spiral out of control.

Also cross-posted on Wattpad and AO3. Link to my masterlist for everything else I’ve posted

Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Four, Part Five, Part Six, Part Seven, Finale

And now you know that love is an obsession that can quickly spiral into something all consuming. 

Spencer runs point in clearing out the warehouse. His gun is drawn and he's laser-focused on making sure nobody escapes from inside. The team had split up to cover the entrances, each moving swiftly. And once Spencer hears through his earpiece that everyone is into position, he makes his move.

"FBI hands in the air." He demands as he enters the warehouse. His voice reverberates off the metal walls as he swivels his head to locate Valentine.

But the warehouse is dark and empty. There's nobody here. Spencer holsters his gun and looks around the property to see if maybe Valentine is trying to hide somewhere. The rest of the team searches as well but an uneasy feeling settles within Spencer.

"It's clear." JJ states as the team convenes in the middle of the warehouse. Adrenaline still pumps through Spencer's veins as he tries to work out what this means for the case.

But no matter how logically he tries to think all his mind focuses on is you. Spencer knows that Valentine's absence here means that you're still in danger. He finds his phone tucked in his pocket and dials your number. But it goes to voicemail.

He tries not to panic, he really tries. So he calls again, hoping that maybe you were preoccupied with something else, maybe you had taken a walk or something. But it goes to voicemail again. Spencer calls for a third time, but this time he doesn't let it go to voicemail.

"Something's wrong." He tries to keep his strained voice level, but he can hear the tension in his words as they leave his mouth.

"What are you thinking?" Hotch asks, crossing his arms across his chest.

"Someone try to reach Garcia. I think we've been set up." Spencer says as he turns to run back to the SUVs.

As he runs his fingers fumble to call Penelope. Her phone rings and rings and rings. But nobody picks up. With shaking hands Spencer gets into the SUV and is about to turn the key to start it when someone opens the door.

"Get out kid, I'll drive." Derek says, motioning for Spencer to step out.

"We don't have time." Spencer practically shouts. Derek reaches over to still Spencer's hand clutching the keys.

"We don't. And you're in no right mind to drive. Get over there and let me get us back to the office." Derek's voice carries a sense of authority with it. And so Spencer hands over the keys before clumsily climbing over the middle console to the passenger seat.

While Derek speeds off back towards the office with sirens blaring, Spencer keeps trying to reach you or Penelope. His leg is bouncing up and down rapidly and he wishes that the car could drive at the speed of the jet. He just needs to know you're okay. He needs to know you're safe.

Finally, after the thousandth time, Penelope finally picks up.

"Your wish is my comm-"

"Penelope there's no time. I need you to go to the bullpen and see if she's okay. I can't reach her and Valentine wasn't at the warehouse." Spencer cuts Penelope off with rushed words.

"What? What do you mean he wasn't there his car clearly showed that he was." The panic in her voice is palpable and Spencer hears movement on the other line.

"I need you to go check on her now please." Spencer struggles to keep his cool. He hears Penelope's office door open and close and he faintly hears her heels clicking on the floor.

"The lights are all off." Penelope says.

"What do you mean the lights are off?" Spencer's mind feels like it could start smoking at any second with the amount of scenarios playing themselves out at the same time.

"I can't open the doors. The doors are stuck. I can't, I can't get in." The panic in Penelope's voice escalates and Spencer hears her pushing on the door.

"Do you see her?" Derek glances at Spencer momentarily before focusing back on the road. Spencer can tell that Derek's accelerated more as the car seems to scream down the road.

"No, I don't- wait. Oh my God. Spencer. You guys need to get back here now." Penelope's voice turns gravely serious before the line cuts off completely.

"Penelope? Garcia? Hello?" Spencer practically shouts. But all he's met with is silence. His hands grip his phone so tightly he thinks it might shatter under the pressure. A wave of nausea washes over him but he wills himself to not get sick. You need him, he doesn't have time to spiral.

"What did Garcia say?" Derek finally asks, no longer able to take not knowing. Spencer takes a shaky breath before looking over to Derek.

"The doors are locked. The lights are off. Garcia said we needed to get back immediately." Is all he can say without getting sick all over the car.

Spencer's mind starts playing cruel tricks on him. He sees you as the face of countless other victims. Some had been shot, others stabbed, a few dismembered, but they're all victims of stalking cases the team has worked in the past. He can't bear the thought of anyone harming a hair on your perfect head.

"We'll get there." Derek says with determination. Spencer can only hope he's right. 

———

Valentine's voice echoes through the empty bullpen as you spin around in the dark office, trying to see where he is. Your heart thumps heavily in your chest and your knees feel weak.

"Oh don't look so frightened dear." His voice booms out of the intercom. You're acutely aware that he's actively surveilling you but there's nothing you can even do about it.

The cameras in the corners of the room track your every move. Every inch you move, they move. Your brain is going haywire, wrestling between logical profiler thinking and terrified victim mentality. Thousands of thoughts race through your mind at once to try and form a plan, but no matter how many thoughts cross your mind, it all just sounds like a jumbled mess. You're freezing.

It feels as if your feet have been cemented to the ground. It's almost like your vocal cords have been cut as well, seeing as how you can't find it within you to form a sentence.

"I'm almost there. Don't worry." Valentine's voice cuts through the silence again.

You're too scared to move. He's going to be here soon. Deep down you know it's a threat. Valentines has you right where he wants you; like a caged animal. There's no way for you to get out or warn others. All you have with you is your service weapon. As you reach for your gun it's like your heart stops; you must've forgotten it in your bag you packed earlier, the one you left in the empty office Hotch is letting you use.

You're all alone in here and Valentine is on his way.

Time moves slowly but too quickly all at once. As if everything were suddenly in slow motion, you watch as Valentine unlocks the doors with his phone and steps into the bullpen with you. Instantly, all the cameras turn off.

Your breaths are shaky, your heart pounds and your chest hurts from fear. Adrenaline tingles the tips of your fingers.

But though you're afraid, there's a tiny voice in the back of your mind reminding you that you've dealt with people like this before. You've worked several similar cases. Deep down, you know how to navigate this situation. But when you're the victim, it's like your training has vanished and you're reduced to nothing but a scared little girl. You don't want to be a scared girl, you want to be strong and brave and smart.

Valentine smiles sickly at you, his white teeth shine like fangs in the dim light. The glint of something shiny in his pocket distracts you from this face. It seems he's brought a knife with him.

You try your hardest to level out your breathing and to think with a clear mind, with a profiler's mind. After all, you've been trained and conditioned for high stress scenarios. You can only hope you don't crumble when it matters.

"Well, aren't you happy to see me?" Valentine asks, taking several steps towards you. Instinctively you want to reach your hands out to maximize the distance between the two of you, but you keep your hands to your sides.

"I am." Your voice falters only slightly, hopefully he doesn't notice. Valentine looks you up and down, licking his lips as he does so.

"You know, you are so much more beautiful up close like this." He takes another step closer.

"Thank you." You accept his compliment, swallowing the sickness threatening to rise.

Valentine steps right in front of you, his tall figure looms over you. He stares down at you and you feel like a gazelle in the middle of an open field, and Valentine is a starved lion. His hand reaches out and touches your face. You flinch.

"Do you think I'd hurt you?" He sounds offended by your reaction to his touch. Thinking quickly, you answer.

"No, never. It's just- your hands are cold. That's all." You try to play it off convincingly. He looks down at his hands and rubs them together to warm them up. His fingers trace over your cheekbone once more.

"I've waited so long for this, for you." He whispers as he looks over your face. You can only hope you're masking your fear well enough.

"If only you hadn't let him touch you like that." Valentine's voice turns from sweet to sinister in the blink of an eye. Your eyes meet his and you see malice and hatred within them. He looms over you and takes his fingers away from your face, like your skin suddenly burned him.

"What do you mean?" You decide to play dumb, maybe there's a chance you can talk your way out of this. Valentine snarls and takes a step back.

"You know what I'm talking about. Spencer. Fucking. Reid." He enunciates his words in an exaggerated manner. Your mouth is dry and your brain can't keep up and decide how you should play your cards.

"I, I don't-"

"Save it. I'm not stupid." He cuts you off and begins pacing back and forth in front of you. Valentine pushes his hand through his hair and you see his face turn red.

"I saw. I saw it all. You let him put his hands all over you. You let him put his lips on your skin. You even let him into your bedroom. How could you? How could you do that to me after I went out of my way for you?" He practically yells at you. The vein in his neck pops and you see his hand drift to his back pocket.

You put your hands out towards him, palms facing him and try to de-escalate the situation. There have been several cases where you've had to talk down unsubs in this exact frame of mind.

"I only let him do it because I was imagining it was you and not him." It's a long shot but you hope he buys it. You also wonder how long you can stall before someone finally comes back.

Valentine stops pacing for just a fraction of a second. He stares at you intensely. His jaw clenches.

"You understand why I have a hard time believing that, right?" His voice has returned to being unsettlingly calm.

"I know. But it's the truth." You say, letting your hands fall back down to your side.

You and Valentine stare at each other, a tense silence filling the room. It looks like he's trying to rationalize your words. And after what feels like a small eternity, he speaks up again.

"If that were true, you would've let me stay that day I came to your apartment. Instead, you dismissed me and let him stay." Valentine's hand reaches for something in his back pocket.

He rushes at you and swings, a silver blade in his hand. You barely dodge it before he's swinging at you again. Valentine is a trained FBI agent, you both went through the same hand to hand combat training. He's fast, he's strong. And you struggle to dodge his attacks.

In an attempt to put as much space between you as possible, you back away and tip chairs and files into the floor to hopefully trip him. But eventually he lunges forward and the blade cuts your abdomen.

The pain temporarily freezes you, allowing Valentine to grab you and shove you to the floor. He stands over top of you and smiles widely down at you. You feel the warm blood start soaking through your shirt but you can't look away to see how bad it is.

Valentine drops to his knees and straddles your torso, he drags the blade across your cheekbone and down your throat. He presses ever so slightly and creates small cuts on your cheek. The blood streams down your face and onto the floor in thin streams.

"Please." You resort to begging. At this point you know he's got nothing to lose and therefore he likely has no boundaries or care in the world.

"Shhh. It's my turn, and I earned this." He says and drops the blade. His hands wrap around your throat and he presses down hard in the center, cutting off your air supply.

You thrash and kick and hit to try and get him off of you. But he's simply too strong. He's twice your size and deranged. You dig your nails into his skin and claw at his hands. But all he does is smile. And you feel your lungs burning and you're starting to panic.

You try to get air into your lungs and your body shakes from lack of oxygen. Your efforts to free yourself are only making you run out of air quicker. Valentine presses his thumbs into the column of your throat.

"We could've been great. You and I. We could've been so happy together. But you had to go and give yourself to him. No, he doesn't deserve you. He couldn't make you feel good like I could. How could you do this?" Valentine spits down at you as your limbs become too heavy to move.

The edge of your vision starts to become staticky and dotted. But you can see tears streaming down Valentine's face and you feel them drip onto your face. But you're too tired to wipe them away. Your eyelids feel like they weigh 20 pounds each.

It's just so much easier to close them.

———

"Garcia did you get the door locks back online?" Hotch authoritatively asks as the team rushes into the building. Penelope tries her best to keep up with Hotch, tears stream down her face.

"Sir I tried. I tried but I didn't have enough time." Her words are broken up by sobs.

Spencer doesn't have time for this. He shoves past everyone else and reaches the glass doors. His eyes scan the dark office and he sees you laying still on the floor. Motionless. Valentine is hunched overtop of you, his hands wrapped around your throat.

Without thinking, Spencer reaches for his gun and shoots through the door. The glass shatters and falls to the floor in a billion pieces. But he doesn't care. All he can see is red as he steps over the glass and into the bullpen.

Spencer reaches Valentine in record time and he wastes no time to kick Valentine off of you. He lands a solid kick to the side of Valentine's face and when Valentine loses his balance and falls from overtop of you, Spencer pushes him on to his back.

When Valentine rolls over onto his back Spencer grabs his shirt in one hand and punches Valentine's face with the other. He hits him again. And again. And again. Everything that Valentine has done to you replays in his head each time his fist connects with Valentine's face.

"Spencer, stop. Stop you can't do this here." He hears someone say as he's forcefully pulled away from Valentine's beaten body.

Spencer pays no attention to who pulled him off of Valentine because he sees you still laying still on the floor next to him. Your eyes are closed and he sees bruising begin to form on your throat.

"No, no come on. Come on baby. Come on." Spencer says as he kneels by your side. His bloody knuckles sting but his chest hurts worse, seized with anxiety and fear because you're not waking up. And those bruises are becoming way too dark way too quickly.

Spencer feels for your pulse on your neck, below your jaw. There's a pulse. But it's faint. Too faint.

"We need a medic. We need a medic right now." Spencer rushes his words as he tilts your head back to allow for maximum airflow into your lungs.

He faintly hears commotion behind him but all he can see is you. And he can hear are your shallow breaths.

Pure, genuine fear paralyzes Spencer.

———

"Derek, stay with him. Don't let him get to Valentine just yet. We're going to do pull some overtime today and get everything sorted. I'll keep you updated. Let me know how she's doing and how Spencer's doing." Hotch speaks authoritatively before hanging up the phone.

He sets the phone on the table and looks at the rest of his team, who have assembled at the round table. He sees their faces full of fear and guilt. And he knows that the team will collectively have to go through the process of acceptance, but not now. Not when there's work to do.

He sees your face in his mind and it launches him into action.

"Penelope. I'm going to need every bit of his equipment seized and searched. I'm talking in his office and at his residence. Document everything." He looks pointedly at Penelope, who eagerly nods her head.

"On it, sir." She affirms and he moves on to his next task.

"JJ, Emily, I need you to document every other piece of physical evidence from her residence and his. Construct a timeline of events. Try to pinpoint what caused this." The women look to each other before nodding. Hotch then looks to Rossi, who's been staring at the table the entire time.

"And Dave, you'll work with me to strategize questioning." Rossi looks up from the table and gives one concise nod.

Content with everyone's willingness to do overtime for your case, he dismisses them. Hotch waits for everyone to leave before addressing Rossi again.

"What are you thinking?" He asks, and Rossi scrunches his eyebrows together before meeting Hotch's gaze. There's a sadness residing in his eyes.

"I just can't believe it took us so long to take it seriously. I mean really, we see these cases all the time but when it comes to one of our own? We completely dropped the ball. And now she's in the hospital. We're supposed to be the most capable team, but we can't even protect our own." He articulates slowly so the point isn't lost on Hotch.

"We never could've known it would escalate this quickly." Hotch says, taking a seat across from Dave, who shakes his head.

"But we could have. The signs were all there. The flowers, the altering of footage. There were indicators present." Hotch is lost for words as the reality of the situation truly sinks in.

Hotch sighs and looks down at his hands that are folded on the table.

"You're right. We should've seen this before it even happened. But it did, and now we have to make sure Valentine never sees the light of day again." Hotch says, hoping that by seeking justice is makes up for a lack of action.

"Yeah we'll lock him away. But do you think she's going to come back? I mean after all this, how could she trust us again?" Rossi asks, exasperation replacing the sadness.

"I don't know." Hotch answers truthfully. He knows that when you recover and are released from the hospital that there's some chance you'll retire from the team. And he couldn't blame you.

"And the kid. You saw how much she means to him. I've never seen him act like that before. During any of it. You saw that picture too, and you saw how he shot through that door, you know exactly what I mean." Rossi says and stands from the table. Hotch rises as well, and he nods.

"I know Dave." Is all he can come up with. Rossi claps a hand on Hotch's shoulder.

"Just have to take this one day at a time." Rossi says before leaving the room, leaving Hotch alone.

Rossi's words repeat in Hotch's mind. What if you decide to not come back? Do you blame the team for what happened? Will Spencer blame the team? Will he leave too? Will you be okay? Will they be able to ensure Valentine's life sentence?

Question after question swirls in his mind until it becomes overwhelming. He closes his eyes and clenches his fists in frustration. He can't help but to blame himself for the team's lack of action. After all, he knew weird things were happening and there was more he could've done sooner that might've prevented this from ever happening.

And he knows the truth, the truth is that Spencer is the only one who took you seriously from the very beginning. And it's because of that bond the two of you share that Hotch knows deep down, that if you leave then Spencer will leave too. Maybe not right away, but soon after.

Hotch can see clear as day that you two love each other deeply. And he knows that Spencer is not prepared to lose you. Not to Valentine and certainly not to this job.

But he has no control over your decision. And he shouldn't stress about things that are out of his control. So instead, he walks out of the room and begins to stress about things he can control, like the compilation of evidence against Valentine.

And so he joins the team and gets to work.

———

Your mind is alive before you can even muster the strength to open your eyes. You hear squeaking shoes on tiled floors, the beep of a monitor somewhere near your head. Whispered voices come and go. But you can't seem to focus on one thing at a time, the sounds blur together.

And you don't know how long you're suspended in this state of mind. All you know is that your eyes are heavy and your throat burns. But you can't move to get a drink, you can't even open your eyes no matter how hard you try.

So you succumb to sleep once again.

And then you awake once more, much like the last time. But now you hear voices and they're closer. They sound like they're near the beeping machine behind you. The tone and cadence sound familiar but you can't make out their words.

You feel trapped within your own body and you begin to panic because you can't open your eyes. You're here and you're awake but you can't open your eyes and you can't move.

You hear the beeping sound behind you grow louder and the voices you heard are now gone, replaced with squeaking shoes against tile. And before you know it you feel people's hands on your arms and on your forehead. It feels like they're trying to soothe you, and it's working.

The beeping behind you calms and voices are heard once more. And this time, you try your hardest to listen in. You really want to know who's here and what they're saying. 

"Hotch wants updates on her. I'm going to give him a call. Will you be okay here for a while?" A deep voice says. 

"Yeah, yeah I'll be fine." Another voice says, and this one you recognize. You'd recognize his voice anywhere, that's Spencer. You feel his hand on yours and you desperately try to open your eyes, but you can't, you're still stuck.

"I think you can hear me. At least I hope you can." Spencer talks again, his hand gently squeezing yours. You hear him sigh before continuing, 

"I want you to know that we got him. We got him and he's never going to hurt you again. I'm so, so sorry that I wasn't there to protect you. I should've been there. I should've seen the signs that we were being set up but instead I was blinded. I was so focused on catching him that I didn't slow down and think rationally about it. I am so sorry." He raises your hand and places a delicate kiss to the back of it. And you feel something wet drip onto your skin too. 

His words make your heart ache and you want to open your eyes and let him know that none of this is his fault. He shouldn't blame himself one bit. You hear him sniffle and it ignites a fire of determination within you. With all your might, you try to at least wiggle your fingers. You just need to show him that you hear him. 

And so with all of your might and strength you can muster, you feel the tips of your fingers twitch. And then you do it again. You hear Spencer take a sharp inhale and you know that you're message reached him. He knows. 

"Do that again if you can hear me." He whispers. And so you try your best to do it again. 

It must've worked because the next thing you feel is Spencer's lips on your forehead. The feeling of his hand holding yours and his lips on your skin sends a warm sensation through your body. And you hear the monitor beep louder again. 

But then the moment is interrupted as someone enters the room, apparent from the sound of their shoes. 

"Pretty boy I think she likes you too, look at that heart rate." The voice is undeniably Derek's. His voice is clearer now and you know that nobody else calls Spencer "Pretty Boy". 

"What did the doctors say?" Spencer asks him. 

"They said it shouldn't be too much longer. Her vitals have stabilized." Derek answers. 

The room falls back into a silence, the only sound to be heard is the monitor behind you. Spencer's hand stays on yours and you feel yourself being lulled back into sleep by the rhythmic monitor.

———

Spencer looks down at your sleeping face and wishes there was something he could do to nurse you back to health in an instant. He thinks it's his fault you're laying in this bed in the first place. Out of everyone on the team, he should've been able to see that Valentine was setting everyone up. That was his hail Mary; to get everyone out of the office on a goose chase so that he could get to you. 

And Spencer knows that if the team had arrived even one minute later that there may not have been a chance to save you. It's a miracle you're alive, even more of a miracle that your hyoid bone didn't break or that nothing internally was severely damaged. The deep bruises were superficial the doctors had said. 

Spencer isn't sure how long he's been standing by your bedside with your small hand enveloped in his. And truthfully, he doesn't care. He would stand there for an eternity if it meant you would be okay. 

"Hotch just texted. They're planning to question him tomorrow, time constraints of the arrest and all." Derek says, showing Spencer the screen. 

With a sigh, Spencer knows that questioning Valentine tomorrow is cutting it close. The team will be strapped for time trying to piece everything together without him there. But he can't fathom the thought of leaving you, not now. 

"They'll be able to pull it off." Spencer says, less than confident that everything will be concisely and plainly compiled. 

"Spencer, we both know that you know exactly what happened, beat for beat. They need you back there. She's okay. I'll stay here with her. You go help the team secure the arrest." Derek says, walking over and putting a hand on Spencer's shoulder. 

Spencer looks back at your peaceful face littered in dark blue bruises and it makes his stomach turn. While he would rather pull his own teeth than leave you here, he knows that he can leave no room for error when it comes to Valentine. And he knows that besides you, he's the only one who knows the depth of everything that happened. His eyes drift from you to Derek and he sighs.

"I'll go help them. But if anything changes here, let me know right away." Spencer lets go of your hand and forces himself to walk away. 

"I will." Derek answers as Spencer exits the room and heads back to the office. Each step he takes he feels like high-force winds are pushing against him, making it difficult to keep going forward. 

When he arrives at the office, everyone regards him quietly. There's a tension between him and the team, one that likely won't go addressed until this is all over with. But Spencer knows it's about that picture, about him shooting the door, about him crying as the EMTs took your body away in an ambulance. 

But he can't afford to dwell on that, not now. He pushes his sleeves to his elbows and finds Hotch, ready to get to work and do it quickly. There's no room for error here.

———

You hear the beeping monitor again and feel the blankets had been pulled up higher on your body. You don't even remember going back to sleep. But you do remember that Spencer is here. But you don't feel his hand on yours anymore, his warmth is gone. 

Panicking slightly, you wonder where he is and what happened. Is he okay? The monitor picks up frequency and you feel someone touch your arm. But it's not Spencer, no the skin is too rough, the fingers too big.

"Hey, hey it's me. I'm here and you're okay." Derek says to you. 

And you're thankful he's here but you need to know where Spencer is, you need to know he's not in trouble. What if Valentine got to him? What if Valentine has his hands wrapped around Spencer's throat, draining the life from him slowly? The thought of Valentine hurting Spencer like he hurt you sends a rush of adrenaline so severe through you, that you think for a split second you had been struck by lightning. 

Suddenly, the room isn't dark anymore. No, it's blindingly bright. The white light burns. But eventually, it calms into something more manageable. And then you see Derek standing right next to you, his mouth open, his eyes full of worry and then joy. 

"I knew you could do it. I knew you could." He says and smiles. 

You go to say something but your throat burns and is too dry so instead you end up choking and coughing. 

"Here, here you go." Derek holds a cup of water to your lips. Your shaky hands land atop of his and you help him tip the cup so you can get a drink. Every swallow feels like you're consuming liquid sandpaper. 

"Spencer." You whisper, trying to ignore the sharp, stinging pain. 

"He's okay. He left a few hours ago to help the others." Derek says, pulling a chair over to your bedside. You make eye contact with him.

"Valentine?" You ask, needing to know if he's still in custody. 

"We got him. Spencer's filling in the others about what happened. He's never going to see the light of day again for what he did to you." Derek says and you can hear the clear conviction in his voice. 

There's a tiny part of you that becomes angry at his words. If they had believed you sooner, this wouldn't have happened. But instead they chose to believe you were fabricating evidence to make yourself look better. And for what? To gain clout over a case that happened months ago? To make yourself look better overall? To prove you're just as good as the rest?

You opt to say nothing back. Because one, your throat feels like it's made of molten lava, and two, because you really can't find anything positive to say to him. You almost died because they didn't believe you were in any real danger, not until it was too late. 

Staring down at the water cup in your hands, you wonder if you can go back to the team after this. Would you be able to trust them and rely on them in the field? Would they take you more seriously? Would they treat you the same? Or would their guilt cause them to treat you differently? 

There's too many questions racing through your head and you feel a headache coming on. You wish Spencer was the one who stayed with you, but you know that he's the best equipped in briefing the team. But then again, so are you. 

"When can I leave?" You ask Derek. 

"I'll go find someone and ask." He offers a tight smile and leaves the room. 

If you can get out of here then you can find your way back to Spencer. You would be able to help the team, maybe for the last time. 

———

"Are you sure that you're well enough for this?" Hotch asks you with crossed arms. You give him a nod, knowing that you're more than capable of doing this. 

Hotch simply nods and looks down at the folder in his hand. You stare through the one-way glass at the man who tried to kill you. He's sitting there, chained to the table, looking like a pathetic coward. All of his confidence he had when he was strangling you had been washed away, revealing his true self; an insecure excuse of a man. 

You hear someone else walk in behind you and turn to see Spencer. His hair is disheveled and the stubble on his jaw is prominent, evidence of his lack of sleep. You meet him halfway and he welcomes you into his arms. He holds you like he may never again, his arms wrapped around you securely. 

Hotch is obviously ignoring what you two are doing and is immersing himself in the file folder that you helped them complete yesterday. 

The hospital staff had been reluctant to let you go, but you were determined to get out of there. You pushed through the pain and told them that because your injuries are superficial, that there's no reason to stay any longer. And sure, they tried to persuade you to get more imaging done, but you denied. All you cared about was getting back to Spencer. 

"Are you ready for this?" You ask him, your voice weak and scratchy. Spencer's jaw tightens and he nods, looking through the glass. 

"More than ready." His tone is flat and you know that he's trying to get himself into the right mindset. 

Hotch didn't want to let Spencer participate in the questioning, but Spencer was unrelenting. Spencer told Hotch that Valentine has a personal prejudice against him and that they could use his anger against him. And Spencer was banking on the fact that Valentine hates him to secure an airtight confession. And eventually, Hotch agreed once he saw that Spencer could control his own anger. 

"Spencer." Hotch says, causing the two of you to step away from one another. 

"I'm ready." Spencer answers, face void of emotion. Hotch nods and you watch as they step into the interrogation room together. You take a seat on the other side of the glass and feel your heart beat heavily, anxious for what's about to happen.

Hotch and Spencer take their seats opposite of Valentine and you see Valentine's eyes lock onto Spencer immediately with malice. You lean forward in your seat. 

"You've been read your charges and your rights, do you understand them?" Hotch begins the questioning. Valentine nods, 

"I do." And you know that's the all clear needed to dig into the interrogation. 

Hotch lays out the altered documents on the table, taking his time to spread them out. Valentine looks over each paper, his eyes scanning over the words. He says nothing. 

"These are documents you altered under the credentials of another agent." Hotch states, not breaking eye contact. He doesn't frame it as a question, because if it's presented as a known statement, it gives further incentive for someone to want to defend themselves and provide alternate facts. 

"How do you know she wasn't the one to make those changes herself?" Valentine asks and a small smirk breaks out across your face. He just admitted that he knew the credentials used belonged to a woman and that there were in fact changes made. 

"We know because I personally review each and every one of her case reports. Hers are not nearly as detailed as these, and there are phrasings included that are not conducive to our report writing policy." Hotch fires back flawlessly. You see Valentine clench his hands on the table; he's getting flustered. 

"And in addition to these documents, you were able to spoof credentials to make entry into our office and retag evidence and alter the footage." Hotch says, his tone indicative of being impressed. This is to build Valentine's confidence back up and stroke his ego. When people are overly confident in their abilities, they tend to slip up more by trying to prove themselves. 

"You can't prove that." Valentine resists. Hotch takes a moment before responding. 

"You chose to wait until the cameras were being replaced to send the flowers. You wanted to remain anonymous. You wanted her to work as hard for you as you were working for her. So you used your knowledge and expertise to your advantage." Hotch says, trying to further inflate Valentine's self confidence. 

"She just needed to see the lengths I would go for her." Valentine slips up again. 

"And you didn't stop there to show her that did you? You orchestrated a false cellphone ping at an abandoned location so the rest of the team would go there and leave her in the office. You knew we wouldn't bring her along, so you created an opportunity for yourself." Hotch doubles down again, knowing that Valentine can't help but to brag about his perceived accomplishments. 

"It wasn't that hard. I knew with him around I wouldn't have another chance. So I did what I had to do." Valentine glares at Spencer as he speaks. 

And you know this signals for Spencer to take over the questioning. They've got under his skin, they've got him flustered, and they've got him overly confident. Valentine has so much conflicting thoughts in his head right now that he likely can't think straight or have the foresight to see what's happening. 

"And you hated seeing her with me so much that you entered her home and placed a camera." Spencer states. Valentine crosses his arms. Spencer licks his lips and leans forward, continuing his approach. 

"But before that you entered her home while she wasn't there and took her sweater. That was a shame, that was my favorite one she wore." Spencer then leaned back and sighed, acting as if he could only think of you in that sweater in that moment. 

Valentine's fists clench on the tabletop once more, the vein in his neck starts bulging. He's close to cracking and losing it all. And it's all being done in record time. No matter how smart Valentine thinks he is, the BAU is smarter. 

"You don't deserve to have her like that." Valentine growls through gnashing teeth. Spencer tilts his head to the side. 

"Have her like what?" Spencer provokes him further. Valentine takes a measured breath. 

"You were in her room, I saw you. You were in her house and you had your hands on her. I just needed a small part of her." Valentine now starts to sound unhinged. His voice rises in volume, and Spencer keeps pressing on. He stands from his seat and leans forward on the table. 

"I was there because she wanted me there. In fact she begged for me. It was nice of you to send her those flowers, it just made it more easy for me to take credit for it all." Spencer makes eye contact with Valentine, and refuses to get back into his seat, instead opting to stay leaned forward. Valentine's face is red, his veins popping, his jaw tight and his teeth clenched. 

"Those were for her to see how much she means to me. You couldn't let me have that, you couldn't even let me speak to her that night at the bar. You put those curtains up so I couldn't see her anymore. No you took her all for yourself. What was I supposed to do? I couldn't sit around and do nothing while you got every part of her to yourself. I tried to forgive her, I really did. But she wasn't grateful for what I was doing for her. I was trying to give her the credit she's due and the love she deserves. I did it all for her! And you just swooped in and took it all for your fucking self!" Valentine screams in one breath. His chest is heaving and his face is as red as a tomato.

And after a minute of silence, Spencer stands back to his full height. 

"Thank you." He says and walks out of the room without another word. But Hotch stays. 

Once Spencer walks out Valentine loses his composure again. But Hotch is there for more, they're going to take everything they can get from him. 

"And what were your plans for the photos in your basement?" Hotch's voice starkly contrasts Valentine's delirium. 

"Those were for myself. I needed to see her any time I wanted. But I had to cut him out of the picture." He answers, glaring at Hotch. 

"And so you loved her that much that you were willing to kill her?" Hotch's voice is soft. This causes Valentine to look down at the table where he stares at his hands. 

"I didn't want to. But I couldn't live knowing he was with her. If she were to die I would've killed myself right after, so that we could be together in another life." Valentine answers and it sends a chill through your body. 

"And how did you plan to kill her and yourself?" Hotch's head tilts to the side.

"I brought the knives. I wasn't going to cut her skin with those blades, I would never. But once she was gone I was going to stab myself in the neck." He answers casually, as if Hotch had asked him about the weather. 

"I see." Hotch closes the folder and stares at Valentine. You had one request of Hotch, and you know he's about to fulfill it. 

"Well, you succeeded in one step of that plan." Hotch prefaces, piquing Valentine's interest once again. 

"What do you mean?" Valentine asks, eyes wide. 

"I mean you were successful in strangling her. She passed away hours after she was transported to the hospital." Hotch tells him. 

Valentine lets out a loud sob and hits the table with his fists over and over again. 

"No! No I couldn't have! No!" He screams until his face begins to turn purple. Hotch then stands from his seat and adjusts his tie, unphased by the drama of Valentine.

"Thank you for your time." He says without emotion and walks out of the room to join you and Spencer.

Valentine carries on with his screaming and crying, the three of you watch him from the other side. But you can only look for so long before it starts disturbing you. 

You stand from your seat and leave, content with how things ended. Valentine will live the rest of his days thinking you're dead. And that's exactly how you wanted it to be. 

———

Rain drops pelt your window and thunder rolls above in the sky. Your apartment is empty and the sounds echo off the walls. It had taken you about two weeks to get everything packed up and moved out. It would've taken longer, but you had some wonderful help. 

Spencer enters the empty apartment, his hair wet from the rain outside. He sighs as he stands beside you, taking in the emptiness. It's odd to see your apartment like this, but you know it's necessary if you want to move on with your life. You couldn't stay here any more, all you could think about was Valentine. And if you're dead to him, you want him to be dead to you as well. 

Valentine had been sentenced to two consecutive life sentences without the possibility of parole. Hotch had some connections to the judge and was able to secure the maximum sentence. And for that you're grateful. 

"You ready?" Spencer asks you, wrapping an arm around your shoulder. 

You take one last look around the empty apartment and remember the good times shared here. The happiness you felt when you first moved in, the giddiness of Spencer staying over, and how you two made this like your own haven for a short while. Some of those memories stay untainted, but the most recent ones leave a sour taste in your mouth. And you don't want your memories with Spencer to be distorted any more. 

"I'm ready." You answer and the two of you leave. You hear the door click shut behind you and you keep moving forward, refusing to look back. 

The two of you arrive at Spencer's apartment about ten minutes later. Or, you should say you arrived at the apartment you now share with Spencer ten minutes later. He opens the door for you and you smile, feeling over the moon. 

Your furniture now complements his, your photos hang on the wall next to his, and your clothes now occupy the space beside his. The two of you had made this your sanctuary, your own personal utopia where you two blend perfectly with one another. 

Every night you're able to fall asleep in his arms and wake to his perfect face every morning. You still love the way his eyes squint when he first wakes up and how he insists that you make pancakes every Saturday morning. 

There's no pressure or threat looming over the two of you any more and you're able to grow closer and closer naturally and without stress. Truthfully, you had never loved anyone like you love Spencer. The love you have for him is rooted deep within your soul and blooms higher and higher each and every day. 

The two of you sit on the couch together, Spencer's leaned up against the arm and you've fitted yourself between his legs, leaning your head back on his chest. His arms wrap around you and you sigh, feeling nothing but pure peace and contentment.

After Valentine was sentenced and everything started going back to normal, you and Spencer had discussed what the future held. You had told him the truth, that you didn't want a future without him in it, you didn't want to live in a world without him in your life. And thankfully, he felt the same way. 

You took an extended leave of absence from the team, just until you figure out if you want to go back or not. Spencer supports your decision either way. But you can't seem to make up your mind. Hotch had given you all the time you need, and you're taking full advantage of it. Spencer had taken a month off as well, the two of you using this time to focus on nothing but each other. 

You tilt your head back and look up at him through your lashes and he smiles down at you. 

"Hi there pretty girl." His smile widens, revealing his perfect teeth. Adoration fills your heart. 

"I love you." You tell him, and he leans down and kisses your forehead gently. 

"And I love you more, much more than you could ever know, with all my heart." He answers and hugs you tightly to his body. 

You melt into his touch and take in his intoxicating smell. You'll never get over the way he holds you, the way his hands map out every curve of your body, how his kisses you like his life depends on it. How he looks at you as if you had personally painted the night sky.

And now you know that love is an obsession that can quickly spiral into something all consuming. 

But this love is tender, this love is kind. This love you and Spencer share is pure and true. And you will happily live with this love for the rest of your days. 

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taglist: @yondiii@juhdoche@themarauderseraslut@shardsofmarxx@mel-vaz @bippityboppityboob1tch @babyspiderling @honestlyloving @emisback @thatredlipped-classic @desperately-seeking-serotonin @threespacemonkeys @small-and-violent @ropickle @honestlybabymiracle @hiireadstuff @suckstobrlaurie @random000000sblog @mynameiskelly @emma-e-a @pleasantwitchgarden @your-favorite-god @gghostwriter @all2unwell24 @haleyshue97 @placidus

[justporo]

Guilty as charged

A/N: So I saw this post about pre-vampirism law school Astarion by @lavendarr00 today and immediately my brain conjured up this idea of having a sort of friends with benefits arrangement with law student Astarion (to both of your benefit ofc) and I couldn't stop dreaming... So have this quick drabble before I move onto other writing...

~~~

You were repeating the same question for the third time to Astarion.

He answered for the third time - and still got it wrong.

The elf rolled his eyes. “This is useless, I need a break,” he pouted and let his head fall back, leaning back onto his hands, careful not to knock over the stacks of books, rolls of parchment and scattered notes.

You just enjoyed the sight: how his chest heaved when he took another deep and dramatic breath in, how the muscles in his arms moved, sleeves rolled up to his elbows. A sight to behold. But unfortunately looks were no characteristic that helped one to pass law school.

The two of you were sitting on the polished wooden floors of Astarion’s small but luxurious dorm room, studying for the bar exam - or some of you were.

This was the final challenge you had to pass, then you would finally be done with school.

“If we’re taking another break, we will never get through all of this,” you muttered and motioned towards all of the material surrounding you.

Astarion replied with a pained noise, head coming around again to watch you.

“Have mercy on me, my love,” he begged and threw one arm dramatically over his face.

“Astarion, tell me how you will pass the bar exam if you’re not at least trying to study,” you scolded him and watched as he gave you his best puppy eyes - the gold in them glinting.

“But I am trying,” he moaned and then sat back up again. His hands shot forward to grab your wrists still holding the book you had been reciting questions from.

“But we can’t all be as smart and scholarly as you, darling,” he murmured and dragged you towards you. “Or as beautiful. Or… distracting.”

As much as you tried to make a face at him for wanting to distract you, you failed. You lightly giggled as the beautiful elf pulled you onto his lap.

Sometimes you wondered if he had solely sought your friendship so you could help pull him through law school. Not that you minded. But then he really wouldn’t have needed to fall into bed with you - frequently. You would have helped him only because you liked him and enjoyed spending time with him. Not that you minded the time spent in his embrace at all as well.

Somewhere between you first arriving at Baldur’s Gate’s esteemed law institute where you had met Astarion - who always seemed to have a sharp quip or cheesy line on the tip of his tongue - and now, you somewhen had formed the habit of repeatedly falling into the elf’s arms and tangling in the sheets with him.

Neither of you had been seeking a strict commitment so this semi-exclusive companionship you indulged in was as much of a bond you both could work with.

How things would develop once you both left law school neither of you had addressed yet.

Maybe tomorrow you would bring it up. Maybe when you would have both passed the exam, celebrated with drinks and your friends and you would have undoubtedly found your way into his bed again.

But now, there were other things to focus on.

“How exactly is this going to help you study, Astarion?” you asked as his hands were wandering up your thighs and his gaze had fallen to where your chest peeked through the laces of your top. You couldn’t help but arch your back a little - make the sight a little more alluring to him.

He noticed and threw you a haughty glance and smirk, one eyebrow cocked teasingly.

“Oh, I don’t know if I’m being quite honest. But I want to test out a theory of mine,” he murmured as long, elegant fingers wandered up your body, immediately making it hard for you to focus on anything else.

“And what’s that theory?” you almost moaned in response and shifted your hips to get even closer to him. The movement bringing the delectable advantage of creating delicious friction for both of you.

“That you will stop bugging me about this damned exam once I have you naked beneath me,” he explained in a low, breathy voice as his fingers were already starting to unlace your shirt.

“Anything to get my clothes off I see,” you replied with a last rest of your wit before Astarion pressed his hot lips to yours and truly made you forget about really anything else. His tongue slipped into your mouth and you leaned into the kiss, drinking it all up desperately. Until the elf broke the kiss again, the gold specks in his blue eyes glinting mischievously.

“Guilty as charged, darling,” he murmured with the smirk you had gotten so used to and adored so much.

Then Astarion pushed you onto your back, knocking over books and scrolls. He immediately followed, lowering his body onto you, tangling your fingers with his before he pressed down your hands on each side of your head and showed you just how much of a convincing case he could make if he wanted to.

[lululandd]

rabid; (i.)

pairing: platonic simon ‘ghost’ riley x gn!reader

word count: 956

warnings: comedy, aftermath of torture, mild gore

note: heheh >:3 (also on ao3)

summary:

ghost has a love-hate relationship with his neighbour of six years. on one hand they’re quiet enough, nice enough, considerate enough and never once had bothered him in any way, but on the other hand he is a highly trained soldier with highly trained senses and the things he hears travelling through his walls are batshit insane.

part i. | part ii. | part iii. | part iv.

He guesses they are an entertainer or a comedian or some sort because on rare occasions, they—whether he wanted to or not—made him laugh. The absurdity of the questions and things that came out of their mouth really makes him feel like he has a glimpse of what a worry free civilian life could be.

On one particularly rowdy night he heard the one sided conversation about anal, which rapidly escalated to how peoples arseholes can stretch up to seven inches in diameter and therefore, theoretically could fit two smaller raccoons.

He listened in fascinated horror how that thought came into their mind, how they associated arseholes with raccoons, and why in christ fuck did they sound so cheerful about it. Maybe he’s just a battle hardened, workaholic soldier that has only seen carnage and suffering, but even if such a thought came to his mind, it would not be classified as a happy thought and he would not laugh about it.

Until eight months later where he’s interrogating an American that he really wants to just straight up murder and remembers his neighbour.

He opens the door that leads to the rest of the warehouse and calls out to his men, “I need two raccoons. Small but not pups.”

He was met with silence and a confused looks, but he saw Gaz and Soap get on it and round up several soldiers.

“Alive!” He barked at them.

—

Soap looked worriedly at Gaz, “What do you think he’s gonna do with live raccoons?”

The other man shrugged, “You think he’s gonna threaten him with rabies?” Gaz gnashed his teeth together, “Let them bite him or something?”

One of the Lance Corporals behind them chimed, “I kinda wanna see.”

In came a chime of ‘yeah’s from the other men.

—

Ghost had made sure the American in question heard his request of the live raccoons before taking a seat on the table holding all his tools and lighting up a cigarette.

He looked at the man’s surroundings, the litter of teeth and nails on the floor, three parts of his severed ring finger, and the blood splatters on the makeshift plastic floor. The cleanup crew’s gonna at least be a little happy about that.

“You like raccoons, mate?” He offers, lighting what seemed to be his third cigarette.

The question caught him off guard. “What?”

“Raccoons. Trash pandas. Those chubby lil wankers with grubby hands.” He curled his palms and did mock scratching motions.

“You’re crazy.” He spat.

“I am.” For even thinking of trying this over his neighbour’s demented jokes.

Fourty five minutes later Gaz came knocking on his door.

“Got your furry friends, boss.” He gestures at a cage sitting by the door. The animals seemed calm, they couldn’t have just nicked it from some random bins and throw them in there.

“Cheers, Gaz.” He saw the man linger. “Anything else?”

“Can we observe, Sir?”

“No.” came his quick answer. If he really has to do what he thinks he’s gonna do, he’d rather his men not see it. They’ve seen so much in their line of work already, he doesn’t want to add to their nightmares.

Imagining one of them having PTSD from seeing a harmless animal makes him feel guilty.

He took the cage from Gaz’s hands and placed it nicely on the floor, a little way away from the American’s feet.

“You know that saying?” He puts on his best southern accent, mimicking Graves. “What crawled up your butt and died?”

The man’s eyes widened and he tried so hard to shift further into his seat, trying to create as much distance between them as possible. Ghost lets the moment go on for a little longer. It makes all the difference, really; whether you rush into the torture or letting them sit and wonder about the choices they think they have.

“I heard somewhere that your arse can stretch up to seven inches in diameter.” He pointed at the raccoons, “The normal sized bastards can fit into a four inch hole. But I’m being nice today and gonna give these smaller ones some wiggle room.”

He can’t help but crouch closer to the cage and coo at them as the man starts yelling for help.

“So.” He said in a calm voice, listing his head slowly when the man had stopped screaming his throat dry. “Since I’m a very nice man today I’m gonna give you two options.”

Fat rolls of tears had started to run down the man’s cheeks, his chest heaving as he begged for mercy.

“Do you want me to sedate these raccoons so they don’t claw your insides or do you wanna..” He remembers a word that floated into his flat one night, “..rawdog it?”

—

Soap had never seen a cleaner interrogation room before. Not from Ghost, the man’s usually so brutal about it. He remembers seeing parts of a live brain one time because Ghost had bashed their skull so badly and remembered having to shoot the person dead out of pity. But today? The intel was good, the man was still alive with almost all of his body parts; save for some of his teeth and nails and the chopped up finger,

and the raccoons.

They were alive and Ghost seemed to never have opened the cage at all.

—

When Ghost came home that month he heard his neighbour say something about a ‘little birthday celebration’ for tomorrow. He checked his watch and decided to walk to the bakery and get them some cake. That last operation went smoothly, and he has them to thank.

He can’t wait to hear what other mental things that will come out of their mouth in the future and apply them to his work.

[hazbinwhoree]

Hello !!<3 I've been reading your works and I adore your writing style and how you write Adam. I was wondering if you could do Adam x m!reader smut where its his first time with a guy? I'd imagine he would be awkward but still act overly confident lol (also maybe some wing stuff? :3)

Cocky Bastard

“Have you ever done it with a guy?” (Name) asks. “No… but I’ll still be great at it because I’m the motherfucking Dickmaster. Plus it’s just another hole.” (Name) rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Beautifully put, Adam, thank you.”

They were in Adam’s bedroom, which was surprisingly neat (Name) had noticed. They stood on opposite sides of the bed, looking at one another.

(Name) sighed, rolling his eyes. “Alright, Dickmaster, show me what you’ve got.” Adam looked unsure for a brief moment before he plastered a grin on his face. “Come here.”

(Name) does, rounding the bed to Adam’s side and yelping when he picked him up and threw him on the bed. Adam crawled on top of him but then faltered, not knowing what to do next. (Name) took pity on him and pulled him down for a kiss.

Making out, yeah, Adam was good at that. Adam was familiar with that.

Until he felt (Name)’s erection pressing against his thigh. He kind of short-circuited, freezing. “Isss everything okay?” (Name) asked, slightly concerned. Adam nodded. “Yup. Fantastic.”

“You know, we could pause and I can explain things to you if you have any questions or concerns–” “NOPE.” Adam was determined to prove he knew what he was doing. He’d be damned if he didn’t please (Name) by the end of the night.

He began to shed his clothing. “Well get naked.”

(Name) rolled his eyes and but still began undressing. When they were both completely bare, there was a beat of silence. “Right. Yeah,” Adam said, eyes glued to (Name)’s dick. He definately knew what to do with that (he did not). But he figured (Name) would like a handjob to start, which was easy cause he masturbates. He knows the motions.

Adam does just that, and (Name) groans, surprised by the forward touch but definitely not unpleased. Adam began moving his hand as he would on himself and (Name) seemed to be enjoying it so Adam felt good about himself.

Name reached around Adam to begin petting his wings and Adam shuddered. “Fuck-“

(Name) smirked. “I know that feels good~”

His petting faltered as his breathing began to get heavier and he tried to warn Adam, “I’m cumming–” but not in time for them to save a mess from happening. (Name) came all over his own stomach and Adam’s hand.

Experimentally, Adam licked it. It did not taste good.

“That was good,” (Name) praised, and Adam basically radiated relieved happiness. “So, top or bottom?”

“Top,” Adam answers a little too quickly. (Name) just laughs. “Okay.” He climbed off the bed to go retrieve his bag, which he ruffled through until he found what he was looking for. He pulled out a bottle of lube and Adam’s dick twitched in excitement.

He hands the bottle to Adam and gets on his hands and knees. Eagerly, Adam comes up behind him on his knees, coating his fingers in lube and pushing them into (Name). (Name) groaned. Adam curled his fingers. He added a third when there stopped being resistance, and pumped his fingers in and out for a minute before deciding he’d prepped enough.

He hadn’t really, but (Name) was no virgin so he was alright.

Adam coated his dick with lube before pouring some on (Name)’s ass. Then he lined himself up, and slowly began to push in.

Both men groaned at the sensation.

Adam bottomed out, stilling to allow (Name) to adjust to his size. He reached around and grabbed (Name)’s dick, repeating the motions from earlier. (Name) whined, and Adam slowly began to thrust.

“Fuck, you feel so good,” Adam hissed. His thrusts picked up pace, his hips slamming against (Name)’s ass. (Name) buried his face in the sheets.

Adam hit (Name)’s prostate and (Name) cried out in pleasure. Adam took note and made sure to not change his angle, hips speeding up even more. (Name) would make a noise every time Adam hit his prostate and it was Adam’s new favorite sound.

He was pounding into (Name), the room filled with panting, moaning, and the sound of skin against skin. Adam never slowed his minstrations on (Name)’s dick, and he could tell by the way it twitched that he was close.

Adam was close too, biting his lip. “I’m gonna, fuck, cum,” (Name) panted. “Cum for me, baby.” Adam’s words, hand around his dick, and hits against his prostate sent (Name) over the edge. He came, making a mess of the sheets, and the thought sent Adam over the edge.

He loved a mess in the bedroom.

“Fuck,” Adam groaned, his hips stuttering. He came, thrusting deep. He held still there as he came down from his high, panting and sweating. When he caught his breath, he pulled out, and (Name) immediately collapsed on his side.

Adam lay down next to him, cuddling into his chest, which was still heaving. (Name) kissed his head. “You did great,” he praised.

“Of course I did! I told you, I’m the fucking Dickmaster.”

[callsigns-haze]

Shower breeze

pairing: young!president!coriolanus snow x fem!first lady!reader

summary: you join your man in his daliy morning shower

warnings: smut, fingering, unhinged coryo, sex, dominance, short fic

A/n: This is my third hunger games post so I hope y'all enjoy! If this seems familiar I've reposted off my old wattpad and old tumblr account

The bed is vacant when you awaken. Coryo usually stays in bed a little later on the weekends to offer you sultry embraces and long, slow kisses, but now his side of the bed is chilly and empty.

You see a light coming from the bathroom door as you focus further and scan the area. Then you hear the soft sounds of flowing water. It is then that you discover Coryo is having her morning shower.

You made the decision to join him outside of bed. Perhaps even pull out a small surprise for him. To avoid letting him see or hear you when you first enter the bathroom, you undress before opening the door and remove your sleeping shirt and underpants.

When you're fully nude, you approach the bathroom door silently and turn the handle carefully. Because of the steaming glass, you can see Coryo's body's faint silhouette as soon as you enter the restroom. Moreover, he is facing the shower head and fully turned away from the bathroom door, which is advantageous since it allows you to approach him from behind without his knowing.

You softly lift the glass door of the spacious walk-in shower, stepping over with your feet. Sincerely, you're shocked he hasn't heard you yet. He seems to be living in a bubble. You go forward and put your arms around his torso in a swift motion after closing the door as lightly as you can. "Good morning, sweetie," he says, seeing that you are awake.

"Good morning."

With a simple smile on her face, Coryo turns to face you and asks, "What are you doing out of bed? After taking a shower, I was going to come back and snuggle with you."

"I just woke up and you were gone." you say with a slight frown and continue. "Then I realized you were in the shower and I wanted to surprise you. We can get back in bed after if you want. We don't really have anything planned for today."

"What kind of surprise?" Coryo questions.

You reach down to seize hold of his stiffening cock that is hanging between his knees and mumble, "This one." When you touch Coryo lightly, she gasps. You lean up and grab for his moist lips as you gently tug on his cock, shifting his foreskin back and forth with each pull.

When Coryo senses your cue, he lowers his head to meet yours. With a passionate kiss, you let the hot water run over your bodies. Because of the hand on his shaft, Coryo groans into your mouth. At that point, he thinks he's had enough and pulls away from your lips. "Enough jokes. I must fuck you." Coryo let out a loud groan.

You drop his cock from your hand and Coryo reaches down, placing both hands on the back of your thighs, and you jump up in his strong hold. With your back against the shower wall, you wrap your naked legs around his waist and arms around his neck.

The shower water makes it a little difficult to cling to his body, but you manage. Then you anxiously plant another passionate kiss on each other's lips. Coryo bends down to pick up his dick and line it up with your dripping hole while your tongues are running wild in each other's mouths. He inserts it gently, causing whimpers to come from your mouths.

"Ughh fuck!" you grunt on his tongue. You can feel every ridge, every vein, every part of his 8 inch cock inside of you. Once Coryo is all eight inches inside of your pussy and your hip bones touch, he places one hand flat on the shower wall behind you and one hand cupping your right ass cheek for grip.

Then Coryo begins pulling his lips from yours and pushing his cock, gently but firmly, in and out of your warm, tight walls all the way down to your neck. You recline your head and relish the tender caresses Coryo bestows onto your physique, accompanied by his deliberate, profound hip thrusts. It's nearly overwhelming how softly and sweetly his lips cover your upper body with kisses. You may be experiencing sensory overload due to the intense heat generated by the shower.

When Coryo's lips make their way to your collarbone, the hand he had splayed on the shower wall moves to grope on your breast. He cups it, lightly massages it, and pinches your hard nipple. "Ahh, Ja…key." you shudder.

The constant prodding of your g-spot by the tip of his cock causes the coil in your stomach to tighten. Coryo grunts as you entwine your fingers in his moist ringlets on the back of his neck and tug just a little. The amount of power it's taking to hold onto his body is making your legs ache, but the pleasure you're experiencing right now much outweighs the agony.

"Are you close love?" Coryo says in a breathless voice as he takes his lips from your collarbone, gazing you in the eyes as his thrusting gets sloppy and he feels like he's about to have an orgasm. He seems to be in a grave situation. He constantly wants you to come first, and you are so appreciative to have a partner that puts your pleasure before theirs.

"Yeah so close babe." To speed up the process and get you to your climax faster, you let go of the hand that's on the nape of Coryo's neck and drag it down to where your conjoined bodies meet.

Next, you locate your pulsating clit with your fingers and quickly apply pressure while rubbing. Coryo is forced to lower his head to your shoulder as your walls begin to tighten around his cock. Then, in order to properly fuck you with all of his might, he shifts the hand he was using on your breast to your other bum cheek. The room fills with the sound of flesh slamming together.

With his wet head bent down, pressed to your shoulder, Coryo watches you pleasure yourself, along with his dick ramming in and out of you. "Mhmm fuck that's hot." he whispers to himself. He loves watching you play with your clit during sex. It's a huge turn on for him.

All of a sudden, the clit stimulation you are doing with your own fingers, the g-spot stimulation his dick is creating, and Coryo's overall power over you get to be too much, causing you to release all over his cock. "I'm cumming Coryo, huh? God, oh God!" Your eyes tightly clenched, you scream, and the sound reverberates off the walls of the bathroom and shower. Both the muscles of your stomach and your vagina contract.

Coryo cums during yours and discharges his cum into your cervix because of how your walls are pinching him. Both cumming concurrently. The way he slows down his thrusts and lets out animalistic noises during his orgasms makes you feel even more attracted to him and prolongs the duration of your climax by a second. Coryo's toes curl on the shower floor, and his eyes are squeezed shut. Conversely, you take your fingers off your extremely sensitive clit and grip onto his back while slightly pressing in your nails. His cock feels like it's becoming limp inside of you, and he hisses sensitively every time you inadvertently strain your vaginal muscles.

With his head raised off your shoulder, Coryo peers into your eyes with his foggy green gaze. After the passionate shower sex that just happened, you're both exhausted. "God, I love you." Coryo gives a heartfelt heaves. For the tenth time this morning, you bring your lips forward and meet his, but you don't say anything back. The kiss is sloppy this time around because you're weak and out of breath, but neither of you cares.

Coryo knows you probably can't feel your legs, so as you're kissing, he gently pushes you off the shower wall and spins you towards the shower bench. He sets you down after walking three feet away. leaving you feeling empty and slipping his cock out in the process. Then he spreads your legs wide with his big hands on both thighs as he kneels down in front of you. Coryo immediately puts his mouth to your swollen pussy and begins to eat out your flowing sperm. Eating his own sperm has never caused him any trouble. He doesn't really mind if it comes from you, but he'd never just eat it for the sake of eating it.

You scream as his tongue unintentionally touches your clit, but Coryo calms you down by sprinkling cool air over the spot. He gets up and grabs your shampoo after using his tongue to clean your lower region. He shampoos your hair as you relax on the seat and take pleasure in his brief massage of your scalp.

He then rinses the suds off with the shower head that detaches. He then treats your body in the same way. uses your luffa to wash it and the shower head to rinse you off. You can see how enamoured Coryo is with your entire body during the entire bathing experience. He moves with thoughtfulness and delicacy. It seems like just moments ago he wasn't beating your behind.

You sit and wait for Coryo to wash his body again when you're clean. You stifle your need as you see him because you know you have the entire day to spend together doing anything you want. After he's done, Coryo shuts off the water and assists you and him in drying off. He places you on the closed toilet and covers your wet body with the fluffy towel. then treats his in the same way. Coryo lifts up your nude body and takes you back to the bed after you're both dry. Knowing that you would both be leaving soon, neither of you tries to put on clothing.

You both cuddle up to each other while lying nude in the cold sheets, engage in little pillow chat, and start some mild foreplay in preparation for your next round of sex.

Hunger games taglist:

@rosiahills22

@shanimallina87

@callsign-magnolia

@hardballoonlove

@sweetwhispersofchaos

@buckysteveloki-me

@hookslove1592

@kmc1989

@callsign-dexter

[webslingingslasher]

hi! I love the way you write. could you do something in which peter thinks he has no chance with reader as himself so he flirts with her as spiderman but eventually she finds out

*cleaning out my inbox*

sitting in a lawn chair on the roof of your building, spider-man sitting on the ledge, swinging his legs as he spoke, you listened to his rambling about an old woman he helped today.

it's been the dozenth time you've met up and talked, caught by him one afternoon when you were hiding away. you'd been healthy friends since, mostly surface value and mostly him venting, but this time was different.

spider-man didn't get personal, and you understood why, but since he didn't, you didn't. spider-man is talking animatedly but all you can think about is peter parker, sometimes life just wasn't fair.

you were caught when you didn't laugh with him at a joke, he tilted his head, 'you're quiet today, you doin' alright?'

you shrug, you feel emotionally numb.

'stuff at school, it's dumb. everything is dumb.'

spider-man adjusts himself, 'wanna talk about it?'

'i don't know, have you...' you pause to collect your thoughts, clearing your throat you start again. 'have you ever tried to make a move on someone but, like, telepathically?'

'uhhh...'

'ugh, i don't know. like, hey, if i stare at you enough and say 'ask me out' on a loop in my head, they'll catch the hint and do it.'

spider-man thinks about it, 'i think my version of that would be hey, if i avoid eye contact and pretend you don't exist, maybe you'll get a crush on me and ask me out, or avoid me forever. i'm okay with either.'

you laugh, you feel like he opened up to you, and he's the city's hero, maybe you can open up too.

'well, mine's name is peter parker and i'm pretty sure he has no idea i exist. i mean, not that i've actually tried to talk to him before, because he seems very nice but he also makes me super nervous and i think i would lose all ability to speak.'

spider-man has wide eyes, 'so, yeah. i guess when he didn't notice me for the millionth time today it clicked that the ship has sailed and i have to move on. shit sucks, dude.'

'no! no, no, no, you can't give up! he likes you too! i mean, what if he likes you too?'

'he doesn't know i exist, it's fine.'

'he knows you exist! i'd put money on the line he was doing that thing where he pretends you don't exist because he thought he had no chance or knew he'd fumble the bag so he deemed asking you out worthless!'

your eyes narrowed, 'i'm worthless?'

spider-man clutched the sides of his mask, his voice coming out squeaky. 'you're such a girl! you only hear one thing!'

'you called me worthless.'

'no, i said that i thought i had no chance and embarrassing myself just to get rejected would be a terrible waste of my time.'

you should be more focused on his switch from third to first point of view, but you crossed your arms instead.

'so... i'm a waste of time?'

spider-man groans, it's dramatic. in one motion in tugs his mask off and peter parker revealed.

'you're not a waste of time,' he gestures between yourselves, hinting at all the hours you've spent together, 'obviously.'

'and i'd really, really like to take you on a date.'

you hum, 'is this the part where i avoid you forever?'

a shy smile, 'i hope not.'

[of-a-chaotic-mind]

Cuffed

Summary: Eddie has been ignoring & avoiding his best friend, Reader, for weeks now. Buck can’t stand it anymore & enlists Tommy to help him in his scheme to get the two of you talking again. 

TW/CW: Eddie Diaz x Reader, Get Together

Requested?: No 

Word Count: 2,215

A/N: This is entirely inspired by a dream I had. I’ve been watching too much 911 & simping over Eddie so I’m not surprised lmao. Hope you enjoy! Much love to all & REQUESTS ARE OPEN! P.S. I almost took this in a different direction & made it longer but couldn't bring myself to do it lol. If any smut writers wanna do it justice & finish it for me, be my guest!

[A/N: This dork makes me smile...]

--- Third Person POV --- 

     "Evan, do you really think it's a good idea to use Chris as bait so we can kidnap Eddie?" Tommy asks, rubbing his forehead at his boyfriend's scheme. 

     Buck looks at Tommy with an exasperated expression before turning to look at Chris who is sat at the kitchen table doing homework, "Chris can we use you as bait to get your dad and (Y/N) to talk again?" 

     "Whatever it takes, even if you have to kidnap me instead," Chris responds not even looking up from his papers. He too is just as frustrated with his father as Buck is, as everyone is. It has been weeks since the two previously inseparable best friends had any semblance of an interaction. Not for lack of trying on (Y/N)'s part though. She had tried and tried to get Eddie to at least acknowledge her existence, but he kept avoiding and ignoring her. She gave up and decided it was best to let him come to her. 

     Buck looks back at Tommy and gives him a pointed look to which the older man simply rolls his eyes, "Fine, what do you need me to do?" 

     Buck grins triumphantly, "Call (Y/N) and tell her that Chris insisted on going to her house because he doesn't want to be here. I'll call Eddie and tell him that Chris ran away to (Y/N)'s house. Carla is already on her way here to keep an eye on Chris." 

     Begrudgingly Tommy pulls out his phone to dial (Y/N)'s number. It rings once before she answers, "What's up pilot friend?" 

     "Pilot friend?" Tommy asks confused. (Y/N) is always coming up with silly nicknames for all her friends but this one is her worst yet. 

     "It's been a long shift, okay? That's the best I got right now," she admits. 

     Tommy looks at Buck who is bouncing on his tippy toes, trying to patiently wait for his turn. Tommy sighs, "Look, Chris insisted we take him to your house." He notices Carla enter and join Chris at the table before continuing, "He said something about being mad at his dad again and not wanting to be here." 

     On the other end of the line (Y/N) sighs, "Okay, I'm leaving now. I'll be there soon." With this she hangs up. 

     "She took the bait," Tommy says motioning to Buck who whips his phone out so fast he nearly throws it across the room. 

     Buck taps on Eddie's number and in no time, he answers, "What, Buck?" 

     "Nice to speak to you to, Eddie. Look we tried to stop him, but he took off to (Y/N)'s house," Buck sighs dramatically making Tommy roll his eyes for what feels like the umpteenth time. 

     "What? Why?" Eddie asks concerned. 

     "I don't know, man. Said he was mad at you again but wouldn't say why," Buck answers possibly a little too excitedly since his plan seems to be working. Eddie is quiet on the other end, so Buck asks, "Do you want us to meet you there?" 

     Eddie sighs, "Yeah, maybe if he won't listen to me when I tell him to come home then he'll listen to you." 

     "Alright, we'll see you in a bit," Buck tries to say but Eddie hangs up before he can get the first word out. Staring at his phone with an annoyed look he instead says, "He hung up on me." 

     Tommy is already heading for the door waving goodbye to Chris and Carla, so Buck quickly follows suit. They have to make it to (Y/N)'s house before she or Eddie does. Minutes later they're waiting patiently at (Y/N)'s kitchen counter bickering because Buck hadn't thought this far ahead. All he had was a plan to get them there and handcuffs to make sure they stay. He has no clue how to get them in the same room. 

     As (Y/N) pulls into her driveway, she wonders if the boys called Eddie but decides it doesn't matter, he'll just take Chris and leave if they did. She makes her way into her house to find Buck and Tommy standing at the kitchen counter. She drops her bag at the door and makes her way over to them, dropping her keys and phone on the counter when she does, "Where's Chris?" 

     Quick on his feet Tommy replies, "He's in your room. Pretty upset and won't let us in." 

     (Y/N) tilts her head at them, "Why is he in my room?" 

     Buck chimes in, "He said he felt safer and calmer in there." 

     (Y/N) runs her fingers through her hair and sighs, "Okay, I guess I'll go talk to him. Maybe he won't pull a stunt like his father has for weeks." She makes her way down the hallway to her room but thinks nothing of the fact that Buck and Tommy are right on her heels. She doesn't notice Buck pull a pair of handcuffs out of his pocket behind her back. (Y/N) knocks on her bedroom door before opening it slowly. She looks around the room and even under the bed, but Chris is nowhere to be seen. She turns around to her friends with confusion on her face but before she can say a word Tommy is sweeping her up onto his shoulder and plopping her onto the end of the bed as Buck immediately cuffs her left hand to the metal footboard. She looks up at them in pure confusion and shock, "What the hell?!" 

     Buck shrugs, "Sorry (Y/N). This is the only thing I could think of to get him to talk to you." Before she can say, "How exactly is this gonna help?" Tommy wraps the bandana he swiped from the top of her dresser around her head and ties it, covering her mouth to keep her quiet.  

     Buck gives his own look of confusion but Tommy shrugs, "Figured we don't want her warning him." (Y/N) glares up at her friends but Tommy simply ruffles her hair before pulling Buck out of the room. 

     Outside the closed bedroom door Tommy dishes out instructions, "Listen, same thing we did with her, except he's gonna see her when he opens the door and know it's a set up so we have to be quicker. Also, handcuff him to her other hand not the bed," Buck nods and the two return to the kitchen. 

     Moments later they repeat the process as planned and soon have Eddie handcuffed to (Y/N). Buck grins triumphantly and Tommy can't help but adore how happy this has made his darling boyfriend; he just hopes it works. Their two friends glare up at them. Eddie is the first to speak, "Why is she gagged?" 

     "Oh yeah, sorry about that (Y/N). Here let me," Buck removes the bandana and the three men look at her waiting for her to say something but all she does is glare up at them with her jaw clenched. 

     Without pulling his eyes away from her, Eddie chuckles, "She's not speaking, you guys are dead men walking." At this, (Y/N) turns her head to glare daggers at Eddie. 

     Tommy begins pulling Buck from the room, "I think we might all be dead when she gets loose," he admits closing the door behind them. 

     It's silent for several heart beats before Eddie finally speaks up, "I should've known this was a set up." 

     She grinds her teeth, "What so you could just avoid me even more?" Eddie sighs and looks down at where their hands are cuffed together. He knows he's upset her, but he can't bring himself to explain why. He looks up at her face to find her still glaring at the door Buck and Tommy left through. He finds her jaw so clenched it looks like it hurts.  

     With his free hand he reaches up and gently massages his thumb against her jaw, "You're gonna crack your teeth." She says nothing. He sighs and rakes his fingers through his hair.  

     It's silent for a few more moments before she finally speaks, "There's a paperclip in my side table drawer holding some pictures. Give it here so I can pick these cuffs." 

     Eddie looks over at the drawer but stops to think for a moment. He can't stand it anymore, "No." 

     She whips her head around to glare at him now, "What do you mean no? That's what you want isn't it? To be as far away from me as possible?" 

     He locks eyes with her and can see the hurt hidden away behind her anger, "Not at all." 

     Her gaze softens just the slightest bit and finally her jaw relaxes, "Then why?" 

     She doesn't need to specify, he knows exactly what she's referring to, "Because I'm a dumbass." 

     She laughs softly and looks away, "Can't argue with you there." Eddie lifts his free hand again to place it on the other side of her face and tug her to look at him. When she does, the anger is gone and all that remains is the pain. He mentally scolds himself for hurting her so badly. That's never what he intended to do. 

     He takes a deep breath, "I'm sorry. I-" something inside him tells him to just stop talking and leave it at that, perhaps fear, but he refuses, "I thought that by distancing myself from you I'd be saving both of us from getting hurt." 

     Astonishment etches her features, "What are you talking about, Eddie?" 

     He lets her face go and looks down at where his hand drops in his lap, "I thought if I distanced myself from you then these feelings would go away and I wouldn't risk losing our friendship but apparently I've risked it anyway." 

     With the hand that is cuffed to his she reaches up to tug his chin toward her. When they lock eyes again, she asks, "What feelings? What do you mean risk losing our friendship?" 

     He swallows hard before willing the words out of his mouth, "I love you (Y/N). I have for a while now. I know you don't feel the same and I didn't want to risk making it awkward between us." 

     Her facial expression goes slack, "You're really are a dumbass then huh?" His confusion prompts her to continue, "I love you too, idiot. It started as what I thought was a little crush the first time I met you, but god has it snowballed into more." 

     He can't think of anything to say in this moment. He doesn't want to think. All he wants to do is kiss her until they're both struggling to breathe. So, he does. His lips clash with hers and she doesn't pull away. Encouraged by this he swipes his tongue across her bottom lip to which she happily obliges. His free hand ghosts up her body to cup her jaw. She fumbles with their connected hands before finally managing to get her arm around his neck pulling him closer and letting his hand dangle from her's. It feels like eons later when the two finally part for air, but Eddie thinks it wasn't long enough.  

     She runs her thumb up and down his jaw, their faces still so close that their breaths fan each other's lips. She's the first to speak, "I wanted to yell at you. I wanted to scream until my lungs gave out, but I can't. All I want right now is your lips on mine." 

     "These cuffs make it a little difficult huh?" he chuckles tugging their connection. She nods, laughing as she unravels her arm from around his neck. He leans toward the side table and sure enough finds a paperclip binding together pictures of them and their team. He returns to her side and hands it to her, allowing her to unlock the cuffs around their wrists. Just as she gets it unlocked, he grabs her hand and gently takes the paperclip back. She looks at him in shock as he frees his wrist and returns the paperclip to its job of binding together the photos, leaving her other wrist still locked to the end of the bed. 

     When he returns to her side, he peppers kisses along her jaw and neck. Her free hand automatically finds itself in his hair, but she jangles the other in frustration, "Eddie-"  

     He pulls away and shushes her with a finger against her lips before she can finish, "You're not going anywhere, Mi Amor." 

     She pouts as he leans into her making her back touch the bed. Sneakily, she grabs the other pair of handcuffs from where they absentmindedly left them on the bed. His return to her neck is cut short when she clicks the cuffs around his right wrist that has found its way to her hip. He pulls back just barely to look but that's all the space she needs to pull his hand up and attach it to the metal right beside hers. He looks between their hands and her face in surprise. 

     She grins mischievously, "You should've turned me loose." 

     He sighs and drops his head to rest on her collarbone, "Okay, but now I can't reach the paperclip." 

     Her grin gets wider as she places her hand on the back of his neck and tugs lightly on the ends of his hair, "Exactly." 

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