#we had a kick outta it when it first happened

[lovebugism]

“you were outside for one minute, how can you be dying of hypothermia?” with Steve and ditsy reader🥹

ty for requesting! — you walk in the freezing cold to ask steve if he would still love you if you were a worm (ditzy!fem!r, established relationship, 1.6k)

bug's one year celebration ♡

Your arrival is marked, first, by an ignored knock. 

Steve’s lazing on his couch, heavy with post-work exhaustion, with his resident schmuck slouched at his side. Robin acknowledges the tapping at his door before he does. “You gonna get that?” she mumbles, mostly uncaring and partly distracted by the TV.

Steve shrugs, unblinking. “It’s probably just a package or something.”

“Or maybe it’s your girlfriend,” she retorts, voice dripping with sarcasm as she turns to him with wide ocean eyes. “Remember her?”

Steve scoffs. “She said she wasn’t coming over today… Why do you think you’re here?”

Robin would punch him in the shoulder if she wasn’t so tired. “Asshole,” she mutters under her breath.

Another knock echoes down the foyer. This time, followed by a voice — muffled and achingly familiar. “Can somebody let me in before I die out here?” 

Steve jumps off the couch without thinking, filled suddenly with newfound life and distant horror. He vaguely hears Robin mumble “told ya” as he rushes to the door. 

He wrenches it open with an iron grip around the knob. He’s smacked in the face by the bitter breeze waiting on the other side. Snow falls from heavy clouds, swirling with freezing wind, and you’re standing out in the middle of it all.

“What the hell are you doing out here?” Steve blurts. Not because he’s unhappy to see you, but because it’s basically a tundra outside, and you’ve got on the thinnest jacket he’s ever seen.

Your brows pinch as your face swirls something pitiful. Eyes wide and glassy, you blink snowflakes from your lashes. “Dying of hypothermia,” you murmur into your knit scarf, shrinking into your crossed arms.

Steve manages a small laugh. “Okay, you were outside for one minute. You’re not dying of anything— now get in here before you freeze.” He ushers you in with a warm hand pressed against the small of your back. “And I meant, what are you doing here? You said you were staying home ‘cause of the snow.

“I had a very important question to ask you,” you insist while he helps you peel off your jacket and scarf. Crystalline flakes fall from the fabric and onto the hardwood, melting almost instantly.

He hangs both on the rack for you. “You walked half a mile in the snow to ask me a question? Why didn’t you just call?”

“‘Cause it’s too important— I had to see you first.”

Your pout is childlike and firm. Steve concedes with a nod. “Okay. Well, uh— Robin’s here. Is that okay?”

You’re beaming almost instantly, forgetting about the boy entirely as you duck past him and down the entrance hall. You find Robin slumped on his sofa, still in her Family Video vest because unbuttoning it was too much work. Her bitten lips curl into a smile at the sight of you, the ball of sunshine Steve’s trying to tame.

“Are you guys having a sleepover?” you ask, all giddy at the thought.

She leans her elbows along the back of the couch and shrugs. “Well, we were. But since you’re here, I’m thinking we should just kick Stevie out.”

“Yeah. No. Not happening,” Steve deadpans as he appears behind you. He guides you towards the stairs with a warm arm around your shoulder. “C’mon— Let’s go.”

You pout. “Wait. Where are we going?”

“To get you some fresh clothes. I just got a load outta the dryer— Remember when you said you were freezing?”

“I’m past freezing, Stevie. I’m dying.” You groan and lean much of your body weight into the boy beside you. He laughs and carries it no problem.

“I’ll warm you up. You’ll be okay.”

He gets you into his bedroom and starts taking off your clothes. “At least take me out to dinner first,” you quip in a tiny voice as he pulls your sweater up and over your head. He scoffs and replaces it with a sweatshirt. Hissweatshirt. From the laundry basket full of fresh clothes he hasn’t folded yet. Then he sets you on the edge of his bed and tugs your jeans down your thighs, only to put a warm pair of baggy sweatpants over them again.

There’s something distinctly domestic, you think, about someone taking off your clothes only to put fresh ones on you again.

And then, even though he knows you’re perfectly fine, Steve cuddles with you under the sheets of his bed for a moment. He says it’s to help you warm up faster — “‘cause you were dying, remember?” But really, he’d just missed you. In a very simple, human way. And it feels good to hold you to his chest like this.

“Feel better?” he asks, filling the silence of his bedroom, chin bobbing against your head.

“I feel more alive now. If that’s what you’re asking,” you answer.

“Less than an icicle?”

“Exactly.”

“Well, you’re the cutest damn icicle I’ve ever seen—” He pulls just far enough way to see your face, smiling when he finds you grimacing at his dumb attempt at flirting. He plants a chaste kiss on your pouted mouth. A low smack fills the bedroom. You’re beaming all over again when he’s gone.

“What was your question again?”

Mouth still sparkling with longing, your face swirls with confusion. “Huh?”

“You said you came over to ask me something.”

“Oh, yeah!” you shout, wiggling out of his hold to face him more. You grow suddenly serious — as serious as a person like you can be, anyway. You talk wildly with your hands as you ramble. “Well, I was at the trailer earlier, and I was talking to Eddie, and I’m pretty sure he was high—”

“Figures,” Steve scoffs.

“—‘Cause outta nowhere he was like, ‘Would you still love me if I was a worm?’ And I was like, ‘Yeah. Obviously. I mean, I’d be sad about it and everything, but I’d still take you everywhere with me.’”

“He might be easier to tolerate that way,” he jokes, pink lips curled into a small smile.

You don’t seem to hear it.

“And then I thought— ‘Oh my god, what about Steve? Like, would he still wanna be my boyfriend if some evil witch turned me into a worm?’ And it really freaked me out, and Eddie was zero help, and then I got so sick about it that I had to come over here and ask you.”

You don’t take a single breath until you’ve vomited all the words out.

Steve — equal parts impressed and worried by you — nods slowly and with wide honey eyes. He calculates carefully what to say, lest the wrong thing spill from his mouth and send you spiraling all over again. “Okay… Well… For starts, yes, I would still love you.”

He swears you breathe a sigh of relief then.

“But like… Can I ask why you got turned into a worm?” he wonders with pinched brows.

“The optics don’t matter,” you insist girlishly.

“Right. Well. Can the evil witch-woman turn me into a worm, too? Or is that against the rules?”

Your doe eyes begin to sparkle, wide and full of hope. “You’d wanna be a worm with me?” you wonder in a tiny voice, distant with disbelief.

Steve scoffs. “Of course, I would. I wouldn’t wanna be anywhere without you.”

You knock the breath from his lungs when you lurch suddenly forward. Chest against chest, your arms wrench tight around his neck. He’s stunned for one moment, then hugging you back the very next. His wide palms rest warm along your spine. He manages a laugh despite being halfway strangled.

“I mean, think about it. I could spend the rest of my life hugging you like this if we were a couple of worms.”

“Well, you’re gonna do that anyway,” you quip, muffled into his neck.

Steve hums. “Touché.”

You pull away from him after a moment or more, serious all over again. There’s a firm furrow to the center of your brow and an unsmiling glint in your eye. “We have to set ground rules, though. Just in case.”

“Of course,” the boy concurs, fighting back a smile.

“If I get turned into a worm, and you couldn’t be one with me, what would you do?”

“Like… If I wake up and there’s just… A worm on your pillow?”

“Yeah.”

“I don’t know,” he shrugs, face pinching ‘cause he’s really thinking hard. “I’d be really sad.”

“But what would you do with me?”

“I’d get you a tank or something. Or, like, a little necklace to put you in— so I can carry you around everywhere.” He figures that’s the most perfect solution to this wildly unlikely situation, given the risk he couldn’t be there with you. Then your pout deepens, and he second guesses. “Is that okay?”

He can’t believe he’s entertaining this at all, really, but you’re worrying’s got him stressed about it, too.

“I want you to hold me in your hand,” you tell him, quiet and sincere.

Steve nods. “Deal.”

“…And hold me at eye level at all times.”

He laughs before he can stop it. “Sure.”

You start to smile, but don’t let yourself. “But how would you find me?”

“If you got turned into a worm?”

You nod, slow like a sheepish child. “How would you know which worm was me?”

“I’d find you,” he insists.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Steve scoffs with a shrug, mostly uncaring because the idea of finding you has never worried him before. There isn’t a world where the two of you aren’t together. Even in the infiniteness of time and all its parallel existences, Steve thinks you’ve found each other in every single one. 

“I’d always find you. In every universe,” he assures, wearing a crooked smile on his lips when he boops the tip of your nose with his finger. “And out of every worm.”

[sytoran]

𝐌𝐘 𝐃𝐈𝐕𝐈𝐍𝐄 𝐆𝐎𝐃𝐃𝐄𝐒𝐒 | 𝐠𝐨𝐝𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐬!𝐧𝐚𝐭 𝐩𝐭.𝟏

you, a regular law-abiding citizen, saved the gods by accident. now, the goddess of lust, natasha, is going to grant you a wish. you could've had just about anything, but looking at the ethereal being before you, there's only one thing on your mind.

pairing: goddess!natasha x dom!fem!reader (G!P)

note: hello, folks! this is the long-awaited goddess!nat fic for the milestone event! i am quite proud of this fic, ngl... got a bit too carried away with some parts ;)

word count: 2.5k

the milestone event | main m.list | join the taglist | AO3

When you jumped in front of a speeding car to save a cat on the road, you had absolutely no clue that the cat was not, in fact, a cat.

This not-cat was a species of flerken, and it’s name was Goose. Flerkens were extremely dangerous alien creatures. At least, that’s what the Goddess of Galaxies, Carol Danvers, told you.

Trust me, meeting an intergalactic space goddess with a pet killing-machine (that looked awfully like a cat) was about as chaotic and unbelievable as you would imagine it to be.

—

“H-holy fuck!” you yelled, jumping in your seat, as a glowing woman materialised before your very eyes, in your shithole of an office. 

“I do not believe I am holy, even though I am a Goddess.” The woman stated, watching with curious eyes as you tittered over your split coffee. Lifting your laptop and muttering curses, then sifting through the messed up paperwork.

“You’re a what?” You asked distractedly, still panicking over the mess that is your desk. “My boss is actually going to murder me. Or maybe I’ll murder myself first. I am literally- Yeah, okay, how the fuck did you appear like that? And aren’t gods supposed to be like, really huge? You look kinda…… human.”

“I am a goddess.” Carol reiterated with slight annoyance. A literal extraterrestrial being was in front of your eyes, and the only thing you cared about was your damn coffee? 

“We are beings you could only ever fathom from the depths of your imagination, powerful beyond measure. Which is also why we can shapeshift to look like regular human beings, so we won’t scare the shit outta you. Which seems to have still happened.”

You let out a dry bark of laughter. Carol wasn’t sure if you thought she was funny or you were about to burst into tears.

“So, why did you decide to visit me, ever-powerful, omnipresent, all-mighty being?” You asked, half-sarcastically, half simply given up on life itself. The report you had been working on for nearly an hour had been ruined by the fiasco earlier. 

You dropped into your chair, kicking your feet up onto your desk. Loosening your black tie with a weary sigh, you looked at the Goddess’ eyes and continued. “I’m a nobody. I’m an overworked and underpaid attorney. I run on caffeine. I don’t know why or how you’re here, but I really–”

“You saved us. The Gods and Goddesses.” Carol interrupts, firm and unyielding. “We owe you, alright? You get one wish.”

“One wish, to get whatever it is you desire. Anything. Anything at all.”

—

Your story was absolutely one of zero to hero. From an ‘underpaid and overworked attorney’, to having the fucking gods of the multiverse indebted to you, it seemed like a rather unorthodox situation.

“So… what do you want?” Carol had asked you. 

“Uhm, I don’t need anything,” you mumbled, fiddling with your loosened tie. “Like, it’s totally chill between us even if I saved your cat.”

Great. Real cool, Y/N. The middle school boys could never compare to your level of failed attempts at being cool.

“Goose is not a cat, alright?” Carol commented, offended. You mutter an apology. 

“So, what do you want?” she continued impatiently. “Humans thrive off greed. You mortals always want something. What is it, money? A fancy car? A boyfr– okay, not to be stereotypical, but you’re definitely not straight. So, women on your mind?”

You splutter at her outright but nevertheless true allegation. Carol gives you this blank stare that makes you feel stupid. 

“Well, I guess, as a woman, there’s something I do want,” you speak up after a while. Carol raises her eyebrows in interest. “Something I have wanted to try, you know.”

Leaning closer to whisper your deepest desire in the goddess’ ear, Carol’s eyebrows disappear into her hairline. Her impressed, intrigued, embarrassed, and taken aback emotions all morphed into one expression, almost steals a laugh from your lips.

—

“You want me to grant you a cock.”

The Goddess of Lust sits in her throne, a picturesque image of perfection, the statement falling from her lips with such ease. There’s a lilt to her voice you can’t decipher. You just nod, looking unfalteringly at the goddess, as if it was the most normal request in the world. 

The Goddess was slightly perturbed by your lack of, well, awe. There you were, standing in her grand palace, unfazed by the multi-million dollar chandeliers and gold-framed pictures, unfazed by her.

Natasha was just about the most exquisite sight people would kill to lay their eyes upon. Soft curls framed her delicately sculpted face like curtains to a stage, magnificent deep eyes and a more than well-endowed body to complement her pretty face. Her rose-gold dress of satins and sequins dripped with money. There was the thrall she exuded, of seduction so strong that had men and women falling to their knees.

Natasha was the Goddess of Lust for sakes, and the only thing you cared about was redeeming your wish?

She would’ve been annoyed, if not for how unfairly charming you were, standing with your hands in your pockets, a charming gentlemanly smile on your face.

“What kind of cock do you want?” Natasha resorts to ask, a playful smirk on her features. “I’ve seen some interesting ones over the years, intergalactic sex is far crazier than you would imagine. Ooh, do you want tentacles to-”

“Uh, no thanks.” You say hurriedly, a hand going out of your pocket to rub at your nose. It’s the first sign of discomfort or embarrassment Natasha’s seen from you. She grins. 

“Just a regular human one?” She clarifies, pouting at you slightly. 

“That’d be great, yeah.” You respond, back to smiling brightly. Natasha frowns. She knows that there’s something under that stupid gentlemanly facade you’re putting on. She’s craving to get a taste of it.

“What size?” The Goddess asks bluntly, like a Starbucks barista asking for your order on a Monday morning.

“A regular size would be fine, I suppose.” You respond in kind, nodding to yourself assuredly. Natasha winks at you. “Ah, a regular size, I see.”

Before you can decipher that cryptic response, the Goddess stands up, a pillar of superiority and authority. She snaps her fingers, and you’re being pushed back into a fancy chair. Where did the chair come from, anyway?

You forgo the answer to that question as the Goddess begins what you would assume to be the procedure. “Sit tight.”

A surge of pain presses against your crotch area, and you almost keel forward in shock, but the pain goes as quickly as it comes. 

“Wait….. that’s it?” You ask, almost disbelievingly. Natasha nods proudly.

You look down, hands resting on your belt buckle. 

You look up at the Goddess, and she only smirks. 

You pull down your pants in swift fashion, letting out a quiet ‘whoa’ at the bulge in your boxers. It definitely feels bigger than would be regular, but then again you don’t have much knowledge of a man’s cock per se.

“Thank you,” You say, pleased with the results. Trying something new in the bedroom would definitely bring more life to your desolate days.

All too quick for the Goddess’ liking, you’re putting your clothes back on and getting ready to leave. “Thanks for your help,” You say calmly, turning to walk down the long passageway.

God, you just wanted to watch her fall apart.

As you walk, you feel Natasha’ eyes burning holes through your back. Oh, the tension was palpable, building with each step you took. It was getting harder to walk, with Natasha’s thrall like a heavyweight on your shoulders, willing you not to leave.

As you stand before the tall doors, you come to a standstill. Natasha waits in her throne with bated breath, so many words fighting to fall from the tip of her stubborn lips.

Your hand pushes down on the door handle, and that’s the last thing you can do before Natasha snaps her fingers again, and the tension is broken like a snapped coil. Suddenly, you’re pressed against her, looking into her dilated pupils.

“You’re so annoying, you know? I’ve been so fucking horny, looking at you this whole time, and you were about to get up leave?” Natasha asks, her tongue coming out to dart at her pink lips. Her hands have grasped your forearms, but your hands are cinched around her waist, disabling movement.

“No,” you breathe, head moving down to trail open-mouthed kisses along the column of her poised neck. “I was waiting for you.” The Goddess throws her head back under your fleeting touch. 

“Fuckin’ tease,” she mumbles, and you smirk against her skin. You’re rough with her, too, knowing that she isn’t made of glass, sucking purple marks into the pale skin of her neck, shoving your knee between her legs to spread them wider.

“Too much clothes,” Natasha breathes, and then with a burst of magic you’re stripped bare of any article of clothing. Her hands fly to your cock instantaneously, wrapping her delicate fingers around your semi-hard member.

You grunt against her skin, struggling to find a better position to properly have her. Since she’s sitting in the throne and you’re bent over above her, you can barely have her the way you want. Due to your lack of magical power, you resort to doing things the hard way.

Your hands slide under Goddess’ dress, going under her thighs, and then manhandling her up. Natasha’s whines of disapproval turn on deaf ears as you sit yourself in the grand chair, plopping her onto your lap. You don’t miss the way her thighs are already slightly damp.

“Need you inside now, fuck,” Natasha growls into your skin, climbing onto your cock as your hands squeeze at her thighs. You proceed to rip the fabric off her skin, deciding that there’s too much clothing restricting you from getting your hands on her.

And boy, was that a sight you’d never forget. 

“Oh!” The Goddess cries, when you lean forward to wrap your lips around her hardened bud. Your hands don’t rest for a moment, squeezing everywhere – hips, thighs, breasts, ass — whatever you can get your hands on. She’s fucking exquisite.

The stimulation seems to work wonders for Natasha’s pleasure, as she engulfs your cock in her warmth with fervour.

You gasp lowly, a throaty sound escaping your lips. Her hips and ass go up and down, working her cunt around the girth of your cock, wet and warm and slick. You can barely keep up with how desperate she is, and the fact that you have this wonder of a woman falling apart at your hands makes your heart soar.

Matching the rhythm of short upward thrusts with Natasha’s riding makes her moan out loud, a pretty melodious sound that imprints itself into your brain all at once. You wanna hear it a hundreds of times more.

Natasha gets more messy with her riding, as you suck hickeys, light ones and fierce ones, into her collarbone and her neck and breasts. You can’t resist the urge to slap her on the ass as she rides you like it’s the last day she’d be on this universe.

“Ah!” The Goddess moans, and you grip her thighs and push her down hilt deep, and her eyes roll into the back of her head. You feel her cum around your cock, so needy and desperate and mindless, and that triggers your own climax. 

Natasha hadn’t even begun to open her eyes again before she ends up on the floor and you hovering above her, your hands fervently spreading her cunt open. You duck your head down, licking a long stripe up her puffy clit. 

The Goddess writhes, unintelligible moans falling from her lips as you proceed to give her the best fucking cunnilingus of her life.

You’re more than determined to make this an unforgettable experience for the Goddess who probably had sex every other day. 

Natasha doesn’t know what the fuck you’re doing with your tongue, but you’re ravenous and your carnal desire makes her even wetter than before.

She’s slept with plenty of people, human or not, but none of them had ever been this uncouth about her pussy. Oh, it nearly drove her mad, but she was already seeing stars.

Before the Goddess registers what’s happening, your hardened cock slides into her cunt with a flippant ease once again. Natasha lets out a filthy moan as she feels it throb inside her, clenching around you hard.

You slap her thigh in retaliation, but feeling the sudden strike of pain only turns her on further. “Gonna fill you up so good,” you pant. “You won’t be able to walk tomorrow.” 

Natasha takes it as a promise, when you spread her thighs and line your cock up with her pussy. The Goddess of Lust doesn’t think she’s ever wanted anyone this bad.

You enter her roughly, your previously calm exterior completely faded away. You fuck her deeper with each thrust, opening the Goddess up. Pounding into the woman’s cunt like a woman starved, you hear her beg and cry with each thrust.

“Oh, please! More! More!” The Goddes cries, nearly screaming your name every time your blunt head pushes against her cervix. You only get spurred on further, going at a pace so painfully fast you don’t know if you’ll be able to walk tomorrow.

You swallow at the sight of this Goddess, completely breathtaking in her state of unravelling. 

“My divine Goddess,” You say, leaning down to press a kiss against the bulge of your cock at her lower stomach. 

Those words in itself have Natasha uncoiling before you, your name falling from her lips like a sacred mantra. Her walls are wrapped around your cock so tight, her nails digging into your back so hard it nearly draws blood.

“My divine Goddess,” you repeat, eyes glazed over, reaching your own climax inside her. Natasha lets out a filthy moan, feeling each throb of your cock in her as walls of cum pulse inside her, again and again. 

God, it feels so good, everything everywhere all at once, your world becoming Natasha, Natasha, Natasha. 

You think you could stay like this forever.

—

A long bath and a trip to the Goddess’ bedroom later, you’re laying on her expensive silk sheets, hair smelling like rosemilk or whatever that shampoo had been called.

You honestly don’t know how this gorgeous woman’s been charmed by your awkward humour and the coffee stain on your work shirt, but you’re definitely not complaining as she nuzzles into your neck, humming in satisfaction.

“You sure that’s the first time you’ve ever had a cock?”

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the milestone event | main m.list | join the taglist | AO3

[cupidkenji]

ghost in the machine

Pairing: Unsub!Spencer Reid x Agent!Fem!reader CW: Fluff, longing, mild angst, one paragraph with heavy implications of sex, cursing, mentions of reader being in a car accident, mentions of suicide and death, suggestive Ig? idk Spencer kind of taunts reader, if I miss anything please tell me! Summary: An unsub targeting local political powers starts calling you. With virtually no memories of your life before 15, you're tasked with finding out why his voice feels like home. Disclaimer: Reader is chubby. She's not physically described in this but reader is literally always a bigger person. Anyone can read but I wanna clarify <3 WC: 7.8k I lokey feel like I fumbled this one but this idea has been in my head since I saw a post about it like last month so i'm sorry in advance if it sucks 💀 I'm not saying looping ghost in the machine by SZA while reading this will elevate the experience but just know it's strongly advised and im even giving you a link to the song for easy access.

The fourth case this month. This was the fourth battered politician you’d forced into handcuffs while ducking away from the recoil of blood spewing from his mouth. The men you’d arrested had all protested strongly - and wetly - while being walked to the back of your cruiser, demanding to know why you were arresting them even though they were the victims. They were always the victims. They’d been burgled and beaten - yes- oftentimes you were restraining them while they sat in bathrobes or pajama pants, but this unsub always jumped the gun. Somehow they managed all this damage while simultaneously kicking the dirt that had been sedentary for years out from under the rug. The men would call the police themselves -  I’ve been robbed, I’ve been beaten - always astounded when you’d taken their statement then turned them around and recited their Miranda rights. This unsub was meticulous, planned down to the second. Somehow, the media always broke the story hours after the arrest with full fledged details on the crime - ones the BAU didn’t even have yet. 

The first time this happened, you’d questioned every media worker from Quantico to DC. His target zone never seemed to reach beyond that, giving you an offender right in your backyard. Those were always the hardest to stomach.  Journalists, Newscasters, even cameramen had been turned inside out as the team scoured for any connection. He was just too good. 

“How can it be just one man?” Derek spoke first, but that was the question all of you were about to ask. 

“Wife and kids were outta town. It was a sleeping 50 year old man against the element of surprise.” Prentiss was right, it wasn’t a difficult job when viewed like that. “Description is consistent with all the victims. All black attire, mask over the face.” She flopped the folder down in front of her for emphasis. 

“Either he has another guy or he’s incredibly tech savvy. Some of this information was encrypted, it would take weeks to compile all of this. If he’s hitting a new vic every week that’s not nearly enough planning time for something this orchestrated.” Hotch checked the time on his watch. “We’re not finding him tonight. The local PD are investigating. We don’t have clearance until tomorrow. Everybody go home and get some rest, we need to crack down on this.” 

As much as you loved your job, the departure was a welcome relief. The day had drained you, you had to basically drag yourself back to the BAU for the regroup after the case. It was routine, and incredibly necessary as this unsub continued his streak, but your brain was mush, and you didn’t know if you were capable of any breakthroughs in your current state. You were grateful, currently, that at least you weren’t dealing with a serial killer. He had an agenda, that much was obvious, but chasing a serial killer for a month bred a different kind of stress than chasing an anarchist. 

The AC blast that hit you upon entering your home seemed to steal the tension from your shoulders. It was summer, so on top of hunting an unsub who was essentially a ghost, you were also bearing through the violently humid nights. You locked the door, pulling up your sleeves as you walked deeper into your house. The lights were on, you never left them off for long, and your eyes locked on the pile of notes sitting on your counter. Three small papers, torn at every edge, were draped over each other. Evidence, you thought. You’d kept them for evidence. Once you told the team the unsub had been reaching out, you would show them the notes. It was that simple, you were planning to tell them. You didn’t know why the information hadn’t entered their radar yet. This unsub was clearly infatuated. You could be a valuable part of solving this case, the notes could be the reason you solved it at all. Those were words straight from the source, they would tell you more about the unsub than any crime scene analysis would. Something about them just stilled your tongue, though. You never particularly liked the feds, the cops, the higher ups. You became one of them begrudgingly, you’d been good at reading people your whole life. You wanted to solve things, see justice. It was never primarily about helping people for you, and you feared the reputational repercussions if your team members ever found out about that. You weren't ignorant, you had morals. You simply lacked the place of purity they came from, the virtue your team members carried was one you were void of. Half of the time you walked away from a case, you disagreed with the verdict, and you were ashamed.

You had only realized you zoned out when the phone rang, effectively breaking your gaze away from the notes and onto the ‘Unknown caller’ screen glaring at you from your cell. Morgan just got a new phone, you remembered. He’s probably checking in. You picked it up, stating just your last name in greeting as a reflex from almost exclusively talking to other agents. 

It was quiet for a moment, reaching the period of time where your stomach knotted up and almost forced you off the phone. “Hey, Y/n.” The voice was a new one, it pulled at certain strings within you. You knew him, but you didn’t recognize him. 

“Who’s this?” The spark of familiarity filled you with guilt. A car accident when you were 15 had stolen most of the memories from your childhood and left a bountiful amount of scars in their place. You barely remembered your own parents, if this man was an old relative, you definitely didn’t know who he was. As much as your family tried to be empathetic, you could tell it hurt them when you were none the wiser.

“God, it’s good to hear your voice.” The man was smiling as he spoke, you could hear it in his tone. “Your number was shockingly hard to find. Feds really don’t mess around, huh?” Your shoulders tensed, you looked around. Blinds were closed, your house was the same as when you left it. You're sure it wouldn’t be hard to find your address if he’d found your number. “I’ve been trying, believe me. I left those notes while I was looking, although it’s really not the same, is it? Phones are so revolutionary, I mean writing you a letter is one thing but it’s so underwhelming in comparison. A piece of paper doesn’t let me listen to you, doesn’t let me hear those little breaths you take when you get scared.” You didn’t even realize your breathing had changed until he called you out. 

“Do I scare you?” He sounded so domestic, the contrast between the genuinity laced in his words and the actual words themselves just about knocked you over. “I hope I don’t. I’m not trying to.”

“What are you trying to do?” Your mouth felt sealed shut, just barely managing to grate out the words.

“If you’re asking about my agenda, I’m afraid that’s a private affair for now.” He was so casual about this, sarcastically sucking air in through his teeth like he was telling you he couldn’t meet for coffee next week.

“What do you need with me, then? You don’t want to share and you aren’t calling to gloat. What’s the point?” 

You heard him click his tongue at the question. “Everything is so technical with you agents.” You could basically sense his lips quirk up, gaining some type of sick intuition for the man’s tendencies. “Maybe I just wanted a word with the pretty detective working my case.” 

Your knees were trembling, your grip getting looser on the phone as you struggled to keep your hold through the tremors of your hands. You had to focus, you could take advantage of this. “Why politicians? What happened to you?”

“Personal grudge.”

“How do you get their data so fast?”

“I know a guy” He knew a guy?

“So you have a partner?”

“I wouldn’t worry about it.”

“Why not?”

“It’s no one of importance.” Sibling, maybe?

“It’s important to me.”

He chuckled at that. You needed to hang up.

“Y/n-” Could he sense your fucking muscles tensing? “Don’t tell your friends.” He could hear your heartbeat from where he was, you were sure of it. 

“Why?” You were instantaneous, barely letting him finish before responding. “You gonna hurt me?”

“No.” He scoffed. “If you tell them, I’ll have to stop reaching out.” You swore you could feel the weight of his eyes on you. “Is that really something you want?” Cold sweat pierced through the skin on the back of your neck. You yanked the phone down from your ear and hung up. 

No, it wasn’t. 

–

You dreadfully greeted the sun as it peeked through the slits of your blinds. You’d slept maybe a half hour in total last night, sleeping in five minute increments while bearing through a paranoid haze only comparable to the first time you’d smoked weed. The world felt unreachable. You could see it like a screen but your true consciousness sat captive in his hands. He’d known you. That was the fact stuck in your throat, that’s why you couldn’t sleep. Does that mean you knew him?

“Jesus.” If you had to guess, the sight of your sunken eyes and hunched shoulders was the trigger for Morgan’s reaction to the sight of you. Walking into work wasn’t going to be fun, you knew that, but you hadn’t expected such an immediate acknowledgement. “Someone have a rough night?”

You wished you could banter with him. Morgan always made working here feel lighter, he was fun to be around, but you were guilty. If you were tired from a one-night, insomnia, even if you were drunk and puking your guts up all night, you would have joked back with him. Now, you had to force yourself to make eye contact. A childish part of your brain was scared he'd smell it on you. At this point, you were fraternizing with the enemy, and it’s repercussions were draped over you like a curtain. “Couldn’t sleep.”

“Clearly.” He handed you a mug of coffee. “Is it the case? If it’s bugging you that much, one of us can stay with you for a couple nights. It’s no trouble.”

“No, Morgan, that’s not necessary.” He was so kind it was nearly suffocating. If someone stayed, he either wouldn’t call or you’d have to decline it. Both of those options making an uncomfortable amount of unease stir inside you. “I appreciate it, but I’ll be fine.” 

“Just tell me if you need anything.” He nodded at you, you nodded back, then you both headed into the conference room. 

“Any leads?” You walked to your seat as you asked, unsure what you were hoping to receive as an answer.

“None.” Everyone else was gathered around the table, Hotch scanning through the file as he replied to you.

“We’ve pretty much ruled out the media workers.” Prentiss spoke up. “This guy’s most likely an anarchist. His previous victims haven’t belonged to a consistent party so he’s not lashing out at the opposing side.” She thought for a moment. “What path leads somebody to anarchy?”

“Maybe he’s been kept out of office.” Morgan started speculating, just trying to sweep together something they could pin to him. “If he’s been running long enough, maybe he gets angry, changes course. He could be jealous of his targets.” 

Your brain was half focused on the case, half focused on him. Two sides of you were fighting, one instilling a sort of protectiveness over him, one howling at you to do your fucking job. 

“I don’t think he’s an anarchist.” You leaned forward in your chair, revving up to present your theory. “He’s been described in the same outfit for every victim. Long Sleeve, cargo pants, gloves and a ski mask - all black. That’s as minimal as it gets. Some pretty low income areas are well within his safe zone.” You paused, looking around to see if they were understanding what you were getting at.

“He’s poor.” Hotch had a glint in his eyes. Almost. 

“So - what?” Morgan prompted. “He’s doing this for money? This is way too elaborate for somebody needing cash.” He shook his head as he spoke. “Hotch, there was evidence of Scopolamine injections. A man who either knows how to make the chemical or already has enough money to buy it wouldn’t be in a position that warrants this. Plus, the kind of tech it would take to get the information he steals? Way more than your typical Best Buy - this is Garcia level stuff. He injects them and probably forces them to help with the robbing, he beats them senseless - he’s getting some kind of kick out of this.”

“He’s not poor” You concluded. “But I’m pretty sure he used to be.” You sat up straighter to elaborate. “A lot of times, kids who grow up homeless or with no money feel wronged by politicians. Here they are going to school hungry while the mayor rolls in cash and lets them bear the consequences of a put-off promise to help the community.”

Prentiss sat back in her chair as she considered your words. “To build this type of anger, though? This is a vendetta.” She glanced down at the crime scene photos as a reminder. 

“Exactly. Anger is expected in normal cases. Something extreme clearly had to happen to explain this type of outburst.” Personal grudge, you remembered him saying. You felt like you were airing out his secrets as you spoke. A weak sense of betrayal tugged at your guts. “I’ve been thinking about this a lot, going over what type of event could cause something like this and I think I have an idea.” You pulled out your phone while talking to call Garcia, the woman answering immediately.

“Garcia, can you look up children in the Quantico to DC area who died from complications with chronic illness? Probably late 90’s to early 2000’s, I don’t think our guy is old enough to have been running for office.” 

“That’s gonna be a large list. Any more parameters you can give me?”

“Look for families making less than 20,000 a year.” 

“Got it. There were three families making under 20,000 that reported losing a child of illness. One was of stage 4 cancer with no plausible recovery and the other two said they couldn’t afford the medication needed for treatment. I just sent them over.”

“You’re the best.” 

“Don’t I know it.” You hung up the phone, pulling up the files she found.

“What exactly are we looking for here?” Morgan looked to you.

“We can rule out the first family. Dying of cancer wouldn’t create the effect needed for our unsub.” He looked like he was about to reiterate his question. “What we’re looking for is a sibling. If your family is struggling, you already have the seed of anger that this guy has. I think a family member dying from the lack of money might just give him the motive he needs.”

“That’s good thinking, he could be avenging someone.” Praise from Hotch always felt better than others. “The Bryson family was just the mother and the daughter who died. She worked in janitorial for the local middle school.”

“Doesn’t exactly fit the profile.” Morgan was right, all the testimonies had described a man. Plus the assumption of decent financial prosperity didn’t fit someone still working at a middle school.

“Who does that leave?” You were searching for the answer to your question, but Prentiss was quicker.

“Diana Reid and her two sons. Henry had type 1, seems like they could afford the insulin for a little while but something must have happened. He went into DKA and died a week later.”

Two sons. “What about his brother?”

“Uhhhh-” She scrolled down on her tablet. “That would be one Spencer Reid who…” She scrolled just a little bit further to find the whereabouts of the man, the hope in her eyes snuffing out with the information she read. “is dead. Says he committed suicide a couple years after his brother died.” The whole table deflated a bit as she said that.

“It was a good idea.” Hotch, despite being a monotone man, usually tried to keep things optimistic. “We’ll continue pursuing that angle. Morgan and Prentiss, I want you to go back to the first crime scene. I’ll call Dave and we’ll head to the latest.” The mentioned agents nodded their heads and started making their way out the door. 

Your eyebrows furrowed at your lack of instruction. “And me, sir?”

“Go home.” He looked you over for a moment. “You look like hell.” Then he was gone, calling Rossi on his way out. How mortifying.

– 

It had been three days since Hotch’s dismissal of you. You managed to get some sleep, convincing your co-workers of normalcy when you went back into the office the next day. In truth, you were anything but. You had been noticeably distracted but the others chose not to mention it until it hindered your performance, which it had yet to do. You were on a timer, counting down the seconds until your next call with him. You seemed to be endlessly tugged back and forth between excitement and pure dread. Everytime you got home, you took a moment to stare at your phone, almost like you could will him to call if you glared at it long enough. The day was just shy of a week since his last attack, and you were nervous as hell. Your phone buzzed once, then it buzzed again. He was calling. 

“You’re early.” You didn’t find it fitting to greet him. You knew who it was, why be friendly? “Is there another one?”

“Relax, honey.” His voice lit a fire in you. Jesus. “I didn’t know I was only permitted one call a week.”

“What are you playing at?” You tried to sound sturdy, but your voice hit your ears with more desperation than you’d ever expressed. 

“I could ask you the same.” You could hear the tilt in his words, he was so sure of what he was doing. “You didn’t tell them about us.”

“How would you know?”

“I’m not in cuffs, am I?”

“You think we’d catch you if I told them?” Was it your fault he was still free?

“No.”

“Maybe they’re listening.”

“Maybe.” He was so unbothered by the notion. You were never a good bluffer.

“It wouldn’t bother you?” You narrowed your eyes at nothing, staring at your wall as you tried to read him through the phone.

“You could bring in the whole nation, Y/n.” You listened more intently than you ever had. “It wouldn’t keep me from you.” You felt like you were choking on your own heart, feeling it beat at the confines of your throat. Jesus Christ.

“Do you know where I live?” Your lips were too weak to hold back the question. It’d been the only thing on your mind since the first note had been left on your car.

“Why?” His smile bled into his words. “Are you inviting me over?”

“Answer the question.”

“Why don’t you answer a question of mine?” He was so intentional, his MO proudly showing in the way he spoke to you. “Haywood or Clancy?”

“Are those your actual choices?” You tried to analyze him, justifying your actions with the ruse of investigation. He’d tell you more if he wasn’t monitored. “Or are you trying to throw me off your trail?” It was certainly plausible. Get you running after two men not of interest, leaving his real victim neglected by your team. 

He laughed, breathy and soft. “I don’t know.” You could almost picture him tilting his head, faceless and so enticing in your imagination. “Pick one for me. Maybe I’ll do him next in your honor.” 

“What do you know about honor?”

“Everything I do is about honor.” What did that mean?

“The only thing that would honor me is you turning yourself in.”

“What do you know about honor, agent?” His voice was taunting, you heard his body shift. “What do you think that team of yours would think about us, hm? Those are their words, not yours. You’re the one who’s waiting on calls from the enemy.” Shock paralyzed your tongue. You felt your head pulse with the blood rushing to your ears. “You don’t have to be guilty about wanting it, honey. You don’t fit with them.” 

“As opposed to what? Fitting with you?”

He chuckled. “You’ve thought about it.”

“Nightmares, maybe.” 

“That’s the angle you're going with?” He saw through you. “If you dreamt of me, I doubt they were nightmares.” 

“You didn’t answer my question.” 

“I don’t know where you are.” You didn’t feel relieved. “I have no interest in hurting or robbing you. Why would I want your address?.”

You slipped your hand under your shirt to trace the scar across your chest. Gift from the accident, now a nervous habit of yours. “What do you want?” God, you were a broken record.

“It doesn’t matter what I want, Y/n.” You could barely hear him over the thrum of blood in your veins. Your entire body felt tuned into his words. You’d never felt so far away while connected. “Only what I can do.”

“You take everything from them. More than just money. Clearly you lost something.” You were so sick of asking this question but you were getting farther from the answer with every conversation. “Why are you doing this?”

“They made the first move.” Jesus what did they do to this guy? “I’m not the bad guy, honey. I’m just defending my side.” 

“This isn’t a game.”

“It might as well be.” He was quick with his responses. “It’s all the same to men like them.” You stayed quiet for a moment. How did you reply to something like that? “Get some sleep. It’s late.”

“Give me less crime scenes to look at and maybe I’ll sleep more.”

He smiled, you could hear it in his tone. “Every mean has an end, agent.” You held your breath, and as if gaining consciousness, you hung up the phone. You felt the brick of the encounter sit heavy in your stomach. He wasn’t lying. You were guilty, and you wanted it beyond belief. 

–

You’d talked to him four more times over the past two weeks. There’d been two more victims corresponding with those calls, continuing his routine of a new one each week. Your understanding of your feelings had become less hazy as you talked to him more. Your guilt wasn’t from withholding information from your team, it was from the fact you wanted to. It stemmed from your instinctual desire to keep him to yourself. Let him exist differently in your home life than he did in your work life. It was difficult keeping something from profilers. It made you feel worse that they definitely knew something was up, but chose not to push it because they trusted you. Did this truly make you untrustworthy? You were only human. 

You’d spent what was meant to be your day off at the BAU working. When there was a case like this, rest time seemed to take the backseat. You were drained, more emotionally than physically. You were lying to your friends, but truly, you didn’t know how deeply you considered them friends. They were good people, easy to like and easy to work with. You were starting to wonder if that's where it stopped, though. Everything about their company was easy, but it lacked gratification. His company was hard on you, but it was so rewarding, so filled with feeling that you started to wonder what your morals even were. You wouldn’t find them here, you thought. You certainly tried. You stared into the chipped white paint aging poorly on the brick wall of the bar as if the pigment of the words would organize your thoughts better than your malfunctioning mind could. The liquid in your glass was nearing it’s end. The drink had loosened your joints, loosened your mind. You hadn’t come here to get drunk, you were basically still sober, you just needed the warmth of a drink. There was a certain coldness within you, there had been since the accident. You accredit the feeling with driving away any potential love interests of yours. There was always a sense of being stuck, like you were interrupted in the middle of moving on, and never fully got to close the chapter. This wasn’t hard for others to sense. You were as emotionally nonreciprocal and unresponsive as a corpse.

“Mind if I join you?” A man who’d immediately caught your eye upon entrance gestured to the barstool next to you.

You motioned to it. “Please.” A casual invitation. You didn’t know how to talk to random men in bars. You took a good look at him, something subconscious stirring beneath your skin. The minimal buzz of the drink you had making you write it off, preferring the focus of his eyes on yours. 

“What’s your name?” The smoothness of his voice could have rivaled the most expensive whiskey in that place. 

You told him your name. He nodded, murmuring a “pretty” under his breath as he took a sip from his glass. 

“I’m Matthew.” 

“Pretty.” You reiterated, raising your eyebrows slightly as you joked. He chuckled, and you asked if he was new to the area. 

“I’m a local, actually. I grew up here, surprisingly never been to this bar, though.”

“Really? I grew up around here too. This place is old as dust, been here forever.” You looked down, finishing the last of your drink. 

“I know. I’ve wanted to come here for a while because it’s so old.” Something about him was so off putting but so irresistible. You’d never encountered such an uncomfortable concoction. It was intoxicating. “I lost the knack for drinking I had in my teen years. Back then my friends and me would just buy a 12 pack and get drunk in the field on Fromage.” 

You lacked the memories to know if you related to the man, but you weren’t going to delve into why and kill the mood, so you lied. “That field used to scare the shit out of me. Everyone at my school said there were bodies out there.” 

His eyes held a certain glint in them when he looked at you, his lips perked up at the edges slightly, if you hadn’t been a profiler you might have missed it. “Really?” Maybe you imagined it all, that or he caught on to you, the look leaving his eyes after lingering for a moment. The slight promise of something more sinister pulsed throughout them. The hairs on your arm were standing. “Mine said the same thing.” He smiled, looking away, shaking his head fondly as he remembered. “My school was full of dumbasses though so I never really took it seriously.” And you laughed. 

You laughed a lot throughout the time you sat there with him. A few hours, you’d guess. He lowered your guard so easily, walking leisurely through the gates of you. You’d practically rolled out the red carpet for him. You wondered if he could see how easily he got in, how much you welcomed the feel of him in your veins. He didn’t seem to mind if he could. When he’d wanted to take you home, your lips parted, and you said you’d like that. You don’t really remember driving, knowing one of you did, both of you sober by the time you’d left. He’d been so gentle, so all-consuming. He’d run his thumbs along the scars he encountered, punctuating the sensation with his lips following close after. Mumbling praises against your skin and rhetorically asking “does that feel good, honey?” as your legs shook around him. He melted you down to pure liquid gold with just his touch, knowing exactly how to map you out. You’d felt him everywhere, his fingers burning their respective shadows on your skin, seeping slowly into your soul to leave marks there too. He’d felt so safe, the pure want joining the two of you together. A euphoric distraction from all the disaster you’d let befall you. He was gone before you woke up the next morning, but you saw him in your shadow, felt him in the soreness of your legs. He’d been a deviation, something put in your path to confuse you. What a brutal fucking night.

–

The same day, you’d gone to work, gone home, and then ended up back at the BAU an hour later. There had been another victim. Two days early. This was his eighth, and up until now he hadn’t strayed from his weekly pattern. This was a bad sign, if he was ramping up, who knows how many more he wanted to hit. The story had stayed the same, and that night you were arresting another board member, this time for solid ties to human trafficking. He really knew how to pick them. You’d give him that, at least.

The meeting post-arrest basically just shared what you were all thinking. He was ramping up, and you were getting no closer to catching him. Stating the obvious was doing nothing but wasting time. He was good. One of the best you’d ever seen. Nobody really knew what to do at this point. You watched their faces get more and more helpless and you felt bad. Nothing in your calls with the man would have helped you solve this case, you were almost positive. Any aspect that could have helped was one you explored. 

Emily had said the name ‘Spencer Reid’ and the way your stomach lurched made you feel like you had to be onto something. You’d never had such an intense gut feeling about something only for it to be absolutely impossible. You hadn’t told them, but you looked more into him. His death was an easy one to fake. As much as you hated speculating on what could very well have been just a heartbroken boy, you couldn’t deny the theory you were building. His mother had found a suicide note, they hauled a body out of the river a month later and just assigned Spencer’s name to it, marking it down as conclusive. You weren’t convinced.

–

You got home within the hour, locking the door and pulling out your phone. You hadn’t called him before, but it was the same number every time, and you needed to talk. The phone rang so long you were almost sure he wouldn’t pick up. Almost.

“Y/n.” He greeted you. “This is new.” 

“You broke your pattern.” You started with the topic at hand. “Why did you do that?”

You heard a chair squeak slightly as he leaned back. “What can I say? You being so interested gave me some extra motivation.”

“Interested?” What the fuck was he talking about? “This isn’t - I’m not fucking interested in anything. You’re a criminal.” You were slightly out of breath. When you lied to him, no matter how small the lie, air seemed to gain a disinterest in staying within your lungs.

“Mhm.” He was smug. That wasn’t a good sign. “I don’t believe that. You seemed pretty interested last night.” 

He had pulled a lever, and your stomach dropped to your shoes. “That was you?” You sounded as defeated as you felt. Your eyes were watering from the pure shock, feeling the drop of the bomb shake you down to your core. 

“You kept tracing that scar on your chest, you know that?” You hadn’t known that. “Almost like you could feel it.” Feel what? He didn’t elaborate. “You sounded so pretty when I touched it, when I kissed you. Been thinking about it all day.” He was breathy, sounding like he was trying to put himself back in it as he spoke. 

You steadied yourself before you opened your mouth. “You lied to me.”

“I’ve never lied to you.” He sighed. “You lied to me, though.” You hadn’t imagined it. “That field used to scare you?” He laughed slightly. “You were the one who told me about it. Took me over there once to look at the moon in the back of your dad’s pickup.” 

God, this was frustrating. “Who are you?” The tears were dancing the border of your eyes, begging to run down your cheeks. “I knew you?”

“You know me.” He was so sure of it. “I’m still in there. Everything is.”

You had to ask, at this point you were near certain of it. “Spencer?”

He sighed, relief intertwining with his words. “There she is.” It was such a soft delivery, the moment he took before replying had you wondering if you’d said anything at all.

What kind of situation even was this? “Is this about your brother?”

“You know, when we were younger, my mother knew the mayor. He used to babysit my brother and me when she worked nights.” His tone was humorous, bitter, like he couldn’t believe the stupidity of what he was explaining. “I listened to him promise us he would change the community when he got the time. Get us a house with more than one bedroom, get us into a school system deserving of us. He used to call me a genius.” He scoffed at the thought. “Then my mom couldn’t afford the insulin, and he let my brother die.”

You didn’t know what to say. “I’m sorry.”

“The payments wouldn’t have even made a dent in his pockets.” You could visualize him, alone in a room somewhere, that familiar crease between his eyebrows as he talked. You were going to be sick, you thought. “One man for every year my brother got to live. Seems only fair.”

“Two more to go, then?” You couldn’t identify a single thought in your head. All of them speeding past you like bullets before you could latch onto one. “Is it helping?”

“Yeah.” He sniffled, quiet and subdued. “It is.”

“I - um” A tear finally fell, breaking the dam. You wiped it away quickly, two more taking it’s place almost immediately “I have to go.”

“Y/n-” but you were gone already. You put your hand over your mouth, laughing into it slightly at the absurdity of your situation and sobbing into a moment later as you took the cold plunge into reality. You texted your parents, knowing they were asleep, asking if you could swing by when they woke up. If anyone would know something, it was them, and you had every intention of shaking them down to find out exactly how you’d known the man. You had to know. You spent the night preparing the questions you’d ask and trying to fall asleep. You were almost paralyzed with the weight of him on you. There was no getting out of it now.

–

The outside of this house always felt alien. You knew you’d grown up here, but it lacked any sense of home. You wondered as you stood out front how much Spencer had to have meant to leave more of a mark than the place you spent your first 18 years in. The sun was nearing it’s peak in the sky, it was almost noon. Your parents had texted back at eight am, worried and eager to know what was wrong, eager to see you. You’d fallen asleep barely an hour before that, waking up at eleven and quickly getting ready after seeing the text. You were scared. These were practically strangers to you, and you were betting an ungodly amount on them. That’s not fair, you thought. But honestly, nothing was fair, and you calmed your guilt with promise of filling the void in your gut. You broke your staring contest with the front door and leaned forward to knock, the thing opening almost immediately. 

“Hey.” You spoke before they did. You found that being the first to talk usually decreased the amount of warmth in their greetings. “It’s good to see you guys. Thank you for having me, I know my texts were sort of alarming. I just needed to talk about something.” You held eye contact to the best of your ability. They brought out a deep feeling of shame, knowing they didn’t blame you for the distance but still being responsible for it nonetheless. 

“Of course.” Your mother talked while your father looked down. “It’s good to see you too. Come in, please.” Your father broke from her side to go sit down, while your mother opened the door to usher you in. You stepped forward, nodding at her in thanks as you passed her, joining your father where he sat.

“Um…” You faced both of them as your mom took the place by his side. How did you even start this? “Well, in a case I’ve been working on, somebody came up.” You couldn’t tell them he was alive. “And he just…seemed familiar, I guess. Did I know a boy named Spencer Reid growing up?” You watched the sparks of recognition ignite in their eyes as you said the name. Your mother’s grew teary, while your father’s seemed to harden. 

“Knew him?” Your mother chuckled at the thought of it being so simple. “You two were more in love than your father and I.” She rolled her eyes as she held your father’s arm, the man laughing lightly at her words.

 “He was the first friend you talked about. I remember picking you up from the first day of kindergarten and listening to you rave about the boy who was ‘smarter than the teacher’.” Her tone got lighter at the end, seemingly trying to imitate the excitement of your adolescent self. “You two were always close, you know?” She seemed to remember him fondly. “When you got older, you would get so defensive if  I asked after him so eventually I stopped. But I knew. I knew you two would end up together from your first playdate.” She was on the verge of tears, giggling at her own words as the stories she told surrounded her, smiling at the past. 

“His family really struggled. Such a sweet kid, him and his brother both. They were over here a lot.” Your father took the role of speaker as your mother’s emotions got the better of her. “We went back and forth for a while after the accident on whether to tell you or not. It just seemed cruel to. He died the night before you got hit, and you were such a wreck we just -” He struggled to find the words. “We considered it a blessing you didn’t remember him.” Your father’s guilt was apparent, twisting his features slowly as he explained their choices. “You were so in love, sweetheart. You didn’t know who he was when you woke up and we figured, you know, what’s the point? When the only thing that could come from it was pain, it just seemed futile.” 

You don’t think you blinked the entire time they were talking to you. You only knew you were crying when your vision went blurry, completely neglecting the beading of tears down your cheeks. You remembered the day your mother was talking about, seeing the children you once were illustrate the world in front of you. You could almost see his face, how it would have looked when he died, how he used to look at you. Like he was staring at the universe’s secrets, easing his hands through the veil to touch them - to touch you. You remember the feeling he gave you, something warm and distinct, reserved for the two of you only. If you could have seen yourself in the moments you shared, you’re sure you would have worn the same look in your eyes. 

You started speaking, but couldn’t manage much. “Yes, yeah, you’re right.” Reassurance usually worked well. “It was a…a good call.” You had trouble with your words, remembering the feelings of him but lacking the visuals. “Do you have any pictures?” Your mother nodded in response, detaching from your dad and going to retrieve something that held the memories you sought. 

“I’m-” Your dad started. “We’re sorry.”

You shook your head. Your parents were the last people who owed an apology. “It’s ok, dad. I’m glad you did it.”

“I could never myself look back at these. Thinking about what happened to them I just…I can never look at them knowing they’re gone.” Your mother re-entered the room holding a camera, dark pink and cheap. “It was meant to document your childhood, but he was around so much, it’s basically just a compilation of you guys.”

You held the thing in your hands. It was everything you wanted to happen but you couldn’t force your fingers to move. Did you even want this? He was alive, sure, but you’re certain the boy next to you in these photos would never see the light of day again. All your birthdays for thirteen years, field trips, science fairs, even just the two of you sitting together reading. It was all here. All consumable. You felt the urge to boil them down and burn your skin with the residue. Anything to keep a semblance of this life with you. You had a right to them, they were yours. Your teeth clenched at the sting of the absence. He had been yours and you couldn’t even remember. “Can I keep this?”

“Of course.” You’re sure the thoughts in your head were obvious to them, spinning like a cyclone in your eyes zoning out on the camera. “I’ve thought about giving it to you for a while now anyway.”

–

They’d made you lunch, then dinner. They told you tales of your past and you let them glance into your present. It was dark by the time you left, setting the goal to talk with them more. You walked to your car, having parked down the street, and tried to shake yourself out of the trance that house put you in. You thought you were seeing things at first, squinting slightly to focus on the chunk of passenger door that was shrouded with out of place darkness. Someone was leaning against your car. You didn’t feel defensive. 

“Spencer?”

“Hey.” He pushed off the door and walked closer to you, facing you on the sidewalk. You could see him now, lit up by a streetlight. He took you in, too. Glancing at your hand and grinning. “I remember that thing.” You had forgotten you were holding the camera until now. 

“Why didn’t you just tell me?”

“I don’t know, honey.” He shrugged, matching your exhaustion at the situation. “I guess I wanted to see how much you remembered.” He looked at you, his eyes just as bright as they’d been a decade ago. “How much I could make you remember.”

You sighed. God, if only it worked that way. “Do you want to-” What the fuck were you thinking? “Do you want to come over?” You’d looked through every picture on that camera. You missed him. You missed him in your space, on your bed, waiting for you at the bus stop. That knot of feeling stuck only wanted to unravel if it were his hands tugging at it. “I can drive us.”

He raised his eyebrows, surprise blending seamlessly with the undiluted hope he carried as a kid. “Ok.” He smiled, just a tiny lift at the corners of his lips. The image of that smile resting on his teenage face struck you so violently you felt it in your bones. You looked at him, starstruck. His presence was a trance of it’s own. 

“Ok.” You repeated him, trying to elongate the moment. You weren’t sure when you’d be ready to look away. He’d have to move first, and he knew it, so he walked to the passenger door. You blinked, grounding yourself, and unlocked the car. 

You were preparing for an awkward car ride, but clearly your subconscious was more than familiar with him, being silent with him came as second nature to you. You took the long way back to your house, trying to enjoy the comfortability as long as you could. He added an elevation to your existence that you hadn’t been aware you were lacking. You pulled into your driveway ten minutes later, parking and turning off the car. 

“Did you really not know where I lived?”

“No.” He was looking out your windshield, taking in the sight of where you felt safest. “I meant what I said. I never needed to. 

You walked into the house first, hearing him shut the door softly behind him. You’d been listening to see how he’d close it, not sure what it would tell you, but deeming it important regardless. He’d been nothing but respectful of your space both times he’d been here. You sat down, nodding your head to the chair near you. 

He let a moment pass, waiting to see if you had something to say. You had too much to say, too much to articulate. “I want you to leave with me.”

“Spencer-”

“Don’t.” His eyes were pleading, glistening with his unique mix of hunger and control. “Don’t write me off, Y/n. Nobody would know. They’re not gonna catch me. You can quit, and we can leave.” You looked away, down towards your hands. “Don’t act like you haven’t thought about it.” It was all you’d been thinking about. Usually in dreams - obviously your mind was more up to date than you were. You were going to do it, you thought. Of course you were. You looked at him and knew you’d go anywhere he asked you to. Still, though, you had a life. One you needed time to wrap up before you could leave it. You were a federal agent, if you went missing, they’d send the entire nation to step on your heels. 

“Can I think about it?

He looked at you, suppressing a smile and tilting his head slightly. “Sure, honey.” He could read you so easily. He’d known he had you from the moment he asked. “I’ve still got two more.” The burning in your stomach wasn’t a resistance to the words. It was an admiration, a feeling you could wallow in. You weren’t an opposing force to him. Had you ever been? Truly?

“What happens if I don’t go?”

His eye contact had a way of transferring, enveloping any part of you it could reach. You were testing him. “Don’t force my hand, Y/n.”

You didn’t plan on finding out what that meant.

[askthestans]

Hey Stan, can you tell us stories about your brother Sherman being a total square?

Stan and Ford: At the same time. You mean Square-mie?

Both of them laugh, not in a harsh way, but the kind of lighthearted chuckles that usually come from one sibling teasing another. It's obvious they love their older brother, but... like most siblings, they'll always jump on a chance to make fun of one another.

Stan: Oh, he always hated that nickname! Look, Anon, lemme first introduce ya to the official scale of Pines fun-ness. At the top, there's me, for obvious reasons. Second best is Mabel, also for obvious reasons. And... He pauses, putting his hand to his chin. Damn, I gotta say, I think Ford's next-

Ford: I am as much of an adventurer as I am a scientist.

Stan: Yeah, definitely Ford, despite his dorkiness and obsession with... He gestures at Ford's honors and trophies for grades and intelligence related successes from childhood. That garbage. Good grades and other crap. And then-

Ford: Definitely our nephew, Dipper and Mabel's father. Works in IT, very smart, has a little bit more of Mabel's fun-loving nature. But far less adventurous than you or I. You and I could never live a boring suburban life like he does.

Stan: Grinning. Then, near the very bottom, you've got Dipper. No offense to the kid, but he's Ford's smarts but minus Ford's rebel streak. Walkin' wet blanket at times, always askin' how many laws we're breakin' while we're out havin' fun... although me and Ford are teachin' 'im to grow past it, as much as his parents will let us corrupt 'im. But he at least likes to have fun, I'll give 'im that. So that leaves us at-

Ford: Way at the very bottom of the Pines fun-ness scale, you have... Square-mie. He coughs. Shermie, sorry.

Both men howl with snorts and laughter again, barely able to explain why.

Stan: Wiping a tear from his eye, wheezing a bit. Okay, okay, Anon, picture this: take Dipper and his dad's wet blanket crap and crank it up to 1000. This guy? Our brother? Good ol' Saint Sherm? Guy's never even had a parking ticket his entire life! He won't even jaywalk! He never goes even one mile per hour above the speed limit! He's like the human equivalent of white bread. Of unflavored oatmeal. Got average grades, got a boring old suburban house with a literal white picket fence, had an average job-

Ford: Shudders. I have no idea how he worked as an IRS accountant for decades.

Stan: Ugh, don't remind me. He's always barkin' at me. "Stan, you pay your taxes yet this year?" this. "Stan, you need to contribute to your civic duty.", that. Cripes, ol' Sherm is like the anti-Pines. A Pines is supposed to laugh in the face of rules and authority. This guy huffs whatever authority's smokin' like he's part of a cult. Even when we were kids, he'd always do chores even when he wasn't asked. Kept his room clean as a whistle. Barked at me to do my homework and foiled our pranks when he could. Pure goody two shoes, so much he'd make an angel blush. I think all of our Ma's rebellion genes went to us, and Pa's strictness went to Sherm.

Ford: Yes, so after I returned and we explained to him what had happened, he...

Both men fall into a snicker fest again, unsure who will stop laughing first long enough to tell the story.

Stan: Holy mackerel, he... he... Snort. Picture Dipper at, like, seventy years old, but with an even bigger stick up his ass and even less muscles somehow. Gets told this long, convoluted as hell tale about me fakin' my death and pretendin' to be Ford for three decades, Ford gettin' lost in sci-fi sideburn land for just as long, the world almost ending with Sherm's grandkids along for the ride... just mind bendin' stuff... and the first words outta his mouth... and for reference, this guy never swears, and he never has thrown a punch at anyone... he's so square he's a cube! But he just says...

He wheezes, so Ford has to finish the story.

Ford: Snort. He raises his voice a bit, likely to mimic Shermie's. "I just knew I shoulda kicked your asses more when we were kids."

The two howl and cackle with laughter, leaning on each other for support.

Stan: And then he just... walked away, out his door, down the street to the gas station, bought beer for the - and I'm not kidding - the first time in his life, and sat back down in his old man chair and faced us as we just stood there, gobsmacked, while he cracked one open and drank it with an expression like a man betrayed. And he said-

Ford: "You two knuckleheads are lucky I'm even older than you, 'cause if I wasn't, I'd plant my loafer up your ass! You're gonna sit down, shut up, and let me drink this crap while I process whatever the f*ck I just heard and how many goddamn taxes you owe. And then maybe I'll think about huggin' your sorry asses."

More laughing.

Stan: I'm not sure if he was more mad about the taxes, or the fact that I'd faked my death all those years ago, or... the world ending part where Dipper and Mabes coulda been hurt... or maybe because we drove him to drink and swear and threaten someone for the first time in his whole goddamn life, all in the same day, he... Chuckles. He never really said. All I know is, is I don't think I've ever had my jaw that close to the floor in my life.

Ford: Honestly, I think we just kind of... broke him. Even still, I think he blew our minds more than we blew his.

Stan: He laughs a bit more, then shakes his head. Pfft, can you imagine Sherm kickin' our asses, anyway? He'd probably gently nudge one of our shins and give up. He's too nice for anything worse. That's the thing with our brother: he may be boring as sin, but... he's a good guy.

Ford: He always protected us from bullies when we were kids. Carried us home whenever we sprained an ankle or broke a bone.

Stan: And bought us ice cream whenever we asked, and fixed our bikes, and patched us up, scared the "monsters" outta our closet, and taught us most of what we know. Kind of like a second Dad, honestly, and one a lot less grumpy. A bit more somber. And he helped our parents out in their old age when we weren't around, until the... well, you know. 'Til the end.

Ford: His smile fades, then he sighs, expression a bit bittersweet. And he did actually hug us.

Stan: He scratches the back of his head, a bit embarrassed, but smiling fondly. For three hours straight.

[bro-atz]

all tatted up— back tattoo

in which: there's a really good reason why san never called you after you hooked up

pair: san/afab!reader

word count: 3.8k

content: smut, san gets tipsy/drunk but in this world he's a horny drunk... not a cute drunk..., bedroom sex, unprotected (consensual) sex (remember to wrap it up irl!), tattoos, he calls you kitten a lot, creampies, spanking, a lot of what happened the last time but more?, completely consensual!

author's note: yes i saw the performance yes i stopped breathing yes i cried. two things: 1. help; 2. let's pretend that san didn't have all the brushstroke tattoos in the previous ff yeah? he has the wolf, the hand tattoos, the warrior across the ribcage, and the bands around his arms (i also edited the ff to reflect that...) and yes this is definitely a continuation of all tatted up you're welcome

tag list: @k-hotchoisan @eyeryis apply for the permanent taglist here! part one | part two | part three

“Hey, Y/N. How’s it going?” your bouncer friend greeted you with the most irritating smile.

“Why is your face like that?” you asked with a frown.

“Well… Remember that one guy? The guy who was standing next to you when we had that big birthday party call in?”

Your blood immediately began to boil. San. Choi San. That asshole.

“Tell him to fucking get lost.”

The bouncer flinched and looked at you with slight fear in his eyes.

“W-why? I thought you’d be happy… He was like asking for you, and he was super sweet while—”

“Dude, just shut up,” you took out your irritation on the poor guy. “You don’t know anything. I don’t wanna deal with him, so just get him the fuck outta here.”

“Sorry, hun, but until he comes onto you, I can’t kick him out.”

“Ugh! Fine. Just keep him away from me then.”

He opened his mouth to say another thing, but you were done. You needed, like needed, that drink stat. You greeted the bartender, who was a little busy since the bar was busier that day, and sat your ass down in one of the bar stools and waited for your drink instead of conversing with them like you usually did. And, just as your drink arrived, so did the one human being you didn’t ever want to see ever again.

“Hi, Y/N,” San greeted softly, a gentle smile on his face.

“No.”

You turned away from him, but he just walked to the other side of the stool. You should’ve just gotten up and walked away, but you were stubborn— you were there first, so why the fuck did you have to move? You turned away again, hoping that he would give up the more you kept turning.

“Come on, don’t be like that…”

“What the fuck? You don’t get to fucking say a thing, you prick! I haven’t heard a single word from you since that night, so what the fuck dude?”

You turned away again, but San appeared right in front of you again. He reached out to you as if he wanted to hold you to keep you from turning again, but he stopped. He knew his place.

“I’m sorry, Y/N,” his apology sounded pretty sincere (which it was). “I have a reason why, but I’m sure you don’t wanna hear it.”

“Yeah, I don’t.”

You turned away once more, only to turn yourself back this time because you couldn’t resist the urge to confront him. You were pissed, and you seriously wanted him to know that.

“Why the fuck are you here, anyway? What happened to not wanting to go to a bar?”

“My friends wanted to go drinking, so I chose this place in hopes I’d get to see you again.”

“Hah!” you scoffed and crossed your arms over your chest. “You could’ve called, San. You could’ve even texted. You even fucking said that you wanted to go on a date— you were the one to ask that, not me, so what the fuck happened man?”

“I know. I’m sorry, kitten, I know I should’ve called or texted, but I just got so caught up in my own world.” You held your breath and nearly hiccuped when he brought his face near yours, his warm breath hitting the skin on your neck as he whispered, “But I never stopped thinking about you.”

“I seriously doubt it,” you responded while pushing him away.

“I promise you I seriously did think about you all the time and loved every moment with you! Tell me. How can I prove it to you? How can I make it up to you?”

“No idea. You can try, but I doubt you’ll succeed.”

With that, you stood up, took your drink with you, and fully walked away from him. Truth be told, if you really didn’t want to interact with him, you would’ve just left the bar, and even though it had been a whole fucking month since you last saw him, he still made your pussy tremble. You challenged him already knowing he’d win, but you wanted to see how he’d try to win you over.

So, it completely took you by surprise when you saw him order a beer from the bartender. You thought he didn’t drink, so this was… New. It kind of excited you in a way— you knew how he fucked while he was sober, but drunk? Definitely something you wanted to explore.

San didn’t come to you as soon as he got that beer. No, he stayed at the bar. He finished one beer, then two within thirty minutes. When he got his third beer, he finally approached you. You turned away from him, but then decided that was the worst fucking idea because he could grind into your ass. So, you faced him. He didn’t utter a damn word while he was standing before you. Even as the bar got more and more packed, he just remained standing, but the distance between he and you closed fairly quickly. Then you were pressed up right against him. You could’ve moved away, taken a step back, or fully left, but shit. San was built like a soft but firm wall and you just wanted to lean against that wall all the live long day.

The other reason you didn’t move was because he was so turned on. You looked up and saw that his face was flushed red (most likely because of the beer), but he was acting so nonchalant despite the fact that his cock was ready to burst at any given moment. He was looking away from you and somewhere, God know where, into the bar. Just that side profile and what he looked like drinking his beer while his tight, black turtleneck showed his muscles rippling from the side could’ve knocked you out from the beginning.

San noticed you staring and looked down at you, a slight smirk on his face.

“Will you let me prove and make it up to you now?”

San’s apartment was the same as it was a month ago, but this time things were a little different— you and San slammed his front door open, kicked your shoes off haphazardly, and tore through his place until you reached his bed, your lips locked with his the entire time. His tongue was annihilating yours the more he shoved it into your mouth, his hungry, animalistic kisses wrecking your lips as well.

San tossed you onto the bed and immediately started stripping. He pulled his shirt off incredibly fast, flung it to some place in his studio apartment, and pinned you down, his lips yearning for yours once again. And just as quickly as he tossed his shirt away, he tossed your shirt and bra as well, a short gasp leaving you as you wondered how the fuck he was able to strip you down so quickly.

“Do you want me to prove it first?” he asked you breathlessly in between kisses.

“How?” you barely managed to get out.

You whined slightly when he stopped kissing you to sit up. His hands grabbed onto the waistbands of your pants and underwear, bunching the fabric up in his hands before pulling down and sending them flying at the speed of light. San was a fucking magician when it came to stripping, apparently.

A loud cry of pleasure left your soul and echoed throughout the apartment the second San rushed two of his thick fingers into your pussy. They immediately target the g-spot, and before you could even think straight for one second, he had you cumming, squirting all over his bedsheets.

“Fuck, that was quick, kitten,” there was a hint of a laugh in his words.

“Well, it’s been one fucking month, San.”

“What, you haven’t fucked anyone else since then?”

“Do you think anyone can compare to you?” you shot back. “No one will ever compare to you, you fucking beast.”

San shivered— hearing you call him beast was such a turn on, a turn on he didn’t even know he had— and grinned.

“Well, I’ll make it up to you, but first, lemme prove myself.”

With that, San dove right into your cunt, his nose pressing against your clit as his tongue pushed its way through your entrance and inside you. You gasped loudly and pushed your head back into the mattress. You were still recovering from the high of your last orgasm, still raw, so him just going at you ruthlessly had you squirming, writhing, crying.

“Oh! Oh, fuck! San-ngh, I’m—”

You couldn’t finish your sentiment. You cried loudly as pleasure washed over you, your pussy convulsing and staining the sheets with your slick. You were practically sobbing at that point, tears trickling down your face, the pleasure simply becoming too much for you to handle.

Just as San pressed his tongue flat against the lips of your pussy and dragged upwards, you reached for his hair and grasped it tightly, pulling him up and away from your pussy.

“You,” you panted, still recovering from the high of back to back orgasms. “Proved your fucking point. You proved yourself. Now make it up to me.”

“How would you like me to do that for you, kitten?” San asked while wiping the tears from your eyes.

“Fuck me senseless. I want to feel your fat cock pile-drive me into next year. I want you to fill me up until I’m overflowing and spilling everywhere. Make those tattoos dance again, lover-boy.”

San raised his eyebrows in surprise first, then smiled with a slight smirk. Wordlessly, he got off the bed and turned around to take off his pants; and that’s when you saw it.

“Woah, wait, stop,” you told him as you pushed yourself up and crawled over to him.

“W-what?”

You grabbed the waistband of his pants and sat his ass down on the edge of the bed before running your palm over and down his spine. You seriously thought the tattoo was going to rub off, so you were completely taken aback when it did not.

“When— What— How— Huh?!”

“Oh, yeah, that,” San let out a light laugh. “That was part of the reason I never called.”

“What the fuck? Why?”

“I got that tattoo like two days after we slept together. It was healing, kitten. I wanted you to scratch my back and show me how fucking good I make you feel.”

Your face got hot red as he explained himself, your entire body flushing with lust and desire.

“And you can’t really scratch a tattoo while it’s healing,” he continued to explain. “Otherwise it won’t turn out as pretty as it did.”

“Fuck…”

You, at first, were going to tell him that he still could’ve fucking called, but knowing you, the second you heard his voice, you want to fuck him immediately. He definitely played it safe.

“It’s all good and healed now, though, so go ahead.” San smirked as he quipped, “Scratch away, kitten.”

The horrible pun made you want to not fuck him anymore, but once he finished stripping down entirely, that opinion immediately changed. God, his cock. You dreamt about it ever since you slept with him the first time, and you even told yourself you’d do anything to have this cock in your life again.

Turning around so that you were on your hands and knees, you looked over your shoulder and wiggled your ass, making San’s dick twitch and rise higher. Running his tongue over his lower lip before biting his lip, San got on the bed and knelt behind you, his hand resting on your asscheek.

“Raw,” you stated the second you felt his hot touch on your skin.

“Of course.”

San rubbed the tip of his cock along your folds before swiftly thrusting into you, his cock gliding in because of how wet you were. You cried out when his waist hit your ass with incredible force, the sound of the slap drowning in your moan.

Quickly and without remorse, San pounded away. He would slap your ass sporadically, and you would yelp every single time. Your asscheeks got redder with every slap, and the stings of his slaps immediately subdued when he gripped your ass so fucking hard that his fingers were digging into your skin.

“You like that kitten, don’t you?” San bit out, his voice low and nearly growling. “You like this beastly cock ripping your insides into shreds, huh?”

“Yes! Fuck! Oh, God! Ye-es!” you responded in between each slap of his waist against yours.

San pushed your upper back down so that your ass would raise and your back would arch with a slope that made his dick go insane. His thrusts sped up when your ass was in the air and you were pressing your breasts on the bed. Your hands gripped the sheets tightly as you cried out for the man more and more, the pleasure making your eyes fog up and your tongue nearly loll out of your mouth.

“S-san!” you cried loudly, trying your best to overpower the sound of his thrusts into your red, sore pussy. “I wanna— Angh— Hold your hands.”

There were two things San could’ve done: one was to bend over you and press his hands over yours as he continued to fuck you from behind, and the other was to flip you around and lace his fingers with yours properly. He opted for the latter.

You were on your back, your legs splayed out so your pussy was on fully display. San filled your pussy so quickly and pushed himself in between your legs with such force you felt like he was going to split you right open. Lacing his fingers with yours, San had your hands resting on either side of your head, pinning you the same way he would even without your hands tight in his grasp.

San wasn’t thrusting as fast as he was earlier, but God, he was slamming his pelvis into yours so fucking hard that your ass was digging into the mattress. The harder he thrust, the closer he got to your cervix— he was going so deep into you that you were losing your sanity with every slam. Your eyes were rolling to the back of your head, and you were chewing on your lower lip trying so desperately to at least keep your words sane since the thoughts in your head were anything but sane.

“Kitten, don’t do that,” you heard San say in that baritone voice with tiny pants in between word.

Your eyes were barely able to focus on his face as you tried to make eye contact and see what it was he was telling you not to do. It wasn’t until his thumb pulled on your lower lip and he quickly sucked on it did you realize he didn’t want you to keep quiet.

“Don’t hold back. I want you to scream my name, make me go deaf.”

“FUCK!” you immediately cried, moans and groans and other profanities tumbling out of your mouth. “SO GOOD! SAN! HARDER, OH GOD I’M SO FUCKING CLOSE!”

“Oh yeah, there we go kitten,” he said with a slight grin, satisfaction laced in his words. “That’s what I’m talkin’ ‘bout.”

San sped up the tiniest bit, and you fucking lost it. You flung your head side to side as the pleasure made you writhe entirely. San grabbing and squeezing your breast did not make it better at all. You so badly wanted to cum, but you weren’t quite there yet. So, you did as he told you to. You wrapped your legs around his waist, then your arms over his shoulders, your nails immediately digging into the skin on his shoulder blades. You clawed at him, yearning for more.

“FUCK! FASTER!”

You heard San’s throaty chuckle in your ear as he dropped his head and gave you exactly what you wanted. He was moving so fast that the whole bed was shifting back and forth with his power. You clung to his back and cried his name when he finally rammed just hard enough into your cervix. You came loudly, your cunt clenching as you entire body trembled, your orgasm fully wrecking you.

San fucking lost it when you clenched that hard around his fat cock. After quickly grabbing both of your arms, the insatiable beast was pinning you down and hovering over you, sweat dripping down his face, neck, abs, and arms. His eyes were hazy, and his jaw was clenched tightly. With the way he was holding your arms, you felt like could snap them in half at any given moment. That look of his— that incredible intense version of San— made your cunt tighten.

His eyes got sharper, and he definitely dissociated. He held both your arms up above your head with one hand while choking you lightly with the other. Just seeing him grit his teeth and look at you with such intensity while constricting your breath made tears roll down your face because it felt so fucking good.

Your mind went blank when San slammed his waist into you without remorse, his cum rushing heavily into you. You felt his cock twitch and throb as he came, a deep groan leaving his body.

San pushed himself up and held onto your waist, raising it up slightly as he continued to move in and out of you, cum still spurting out of his cock. Finally, he pulled out, and along with his soft, thick cock came a flow of his cum. He caught his breath and watched his white stickiness trail down from your red, raw pussy in between your asscheeks and over your hole— and just like that, he’s hardagain.

You felt his cock stiffen and rub against you as it rose up. Before the man could even say anything, you were moving (pretty slowly because your hips and waist were on fire) towards him. You lightly pushed his shoulder back, and it was his turn to lie down on the bed.

Spreading his thighs out, you knelt in between his legs and took his firm dick into your hands. You stroked him up and down with both your hands and watched as the man ran his fingers through his hair and held it back, gasps and grunts leaving his lips with every stroke. But you wanted more— you wanted to hear him beg and leak profanities from his rosy lips.

Slowly, you took him into your mouth. Your tongue swirled around the head of his cock briefly, the man’s breath hitching. You slowly lowered yourself, taking more and more of him in. But, you took in a little more than you were able to. The tip of his penis hit your throat, making you gag.

“Ngh, yes, kitten. Just like that.”

You pressed your hands into his thighs as you continued to blow him. You wanted to mix it up when you gave head— for instance, you took him in completely, then would release as if you were sucking on a lollipop, or you just moved quickly while moaning and humming. Regardless of what you did, San fucking loved it. When you moved your head all the way up gasping for air, the mix of your spit, your cum, and his cum all mixed together and trailing from your mouth and tongue to his cock was too much for him to handle. You took him back into your mouth once more and moaned, the vibrations finally getting to him.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck— kitten, I’m—”

San couldn’t finish what he was saying because you pushed yourself all the way down on his cock once more and gagged, the gag sending him to pure bliss. He immediately reached out for your head and pushed you down as he came into you mouth with a loud groan.

Seconds later, the high wore off, and San looked at you to see him gazing at him with the glazed, wide eyes of yours that fucking turns him on, your cock still in his mouth. You waited for him to calm down before gulping down his cum, his eyes locked on you. You sat up and wiped your lips with your thumb to lick the rest of his cum that lingered on your face off.

“Oh my fucking God,” San groaned and squeezed his eyes shut before immediately sitting up and pinning you down.

You let out a little giggle as you felt San’s grasp on you tighten, his eyes and lips quivering as he said, “Goddamn it, kitten! Why are you so naughty?!”

All you do in response is run your tongue over your lower lip, bite it sensually, and then let out the tiniest giggle, provoking him once again to completely demolish you.

San woke up mildly confused. He usually got morning wood, but he was extremely turned on— how was his morning wood that intense?

Then, he blinked the sleep out of eyes to see you pressed into his chest, your arms wrapped around his torso. He looked a little closer and saw that you were fucking cockwarming him this early in the morning. You planted a little kiss on his chest before moving away from him slightly to gaze at his dazed and confused face.

“Good morning, handsome.”

“Fu-uck kitten, you… You’re really…”

San couldn’t find the words after that— he was speechless. So, he did the next best thing and showed his gratitude by grabbing you by the neck and kissing you roughly this early in the morning, his thumb pressing into your neck a little too much, so much that it turned you on and made you roll your body against his, making San take in a deep shuddering breath.

“Just saying,” you purred into his ear. “If you ghost me again, this is what you’ll miss out on forever.”

You then swung your leg over his waist and intentionally rolled your body into his this time. Then, you took his hand and moved it to your ass, the man immediately rubbing and clenching your ass cheek.

“So, will you ghost me again?”

“Fuck no,” San said definitively. “God no.”

“What about if you get another tattoo?”

“Even if I get another tattoo, I’ll let you scratch the shit outta it— Fuck, Y/N. You’re so fucking perfect. I will never ever ever let go of you now.”

He leaned in to whisper, “You’re mine, kitten.”

“Good boy.” You grinned and kissed his chest lightly. Then, you brought your finger to his neck and trailed a line while saying, “Now, about that neck tattoo…”

[hyperblue]

okay i got around and actually wrote it all down, so please enjoy: timkon clone twins au lets fucking go

— they are not technically twins, they're just two clones who happen to develop back to back at the same time, but those are just semantics since they were raised like brother and sister anyway; wendy is considered oldest but only because she was the first outta test tube (tim had to have a little breakdown moment while holding her in his arms before he was able to get jackie out too; wendy is the only person who actually cares about being oldest, jackie is not thrilled because "you're literally only 10 minutes older can you maybe chill")

— wendy's full name is gwendolyn stephanie drake, bc i believe that if tim Has to honor someone by giving their name to his child it should be steph, plus i am cackling at the thought of wendy naming all her social accounts "gwen stefani"; no one really ever calls her gwen tho, the only reason she's not just wendy in papers is because tim was a little pretentious; i also quite like gwendolyn lois but i don't think tim would actually go for it (kon could tho, if he were alive at the time)

— jackie is jackson bartholomew drake. i personally prefer to think that if tim gave it some time he would probably choose a different name, but he just really missed his dad at the moment (he missed everyone, really), and by the time he actually had enough mental stability to sit on it the kid was already pretty much established as jackie withing the family, so yeah. no one ever calls him jack btw, so it's fine

— they both quite like their names although they can't help but nudge their dad a little from time to time, being like "gwendolyn stefanie, dad, really? it's like you picked up a name on pinterest or some shit" ("language"); they are both referred to as "ducklings" within the family (dick was the first to do it, tim started doing the same by pure accident and then it just kinda stuck)

— wendy took a lot after janet drake genetic-wise, to the point where it almost rubs tim in a wrong way sometimes when she gets older — her hair is much lighter than her father's or brother's and doesn't really curl that much, although she's not as pale as tim and has a distinguish golden undertone to her skin; she also gets freckles in summer. tim is one of few people who can actually see kon in her without deliberate searching, especially when she smiles. she has his eyes though, and she leans more on a shorter side (short queen supremacy)

— jackie is pretty much kon in miniature, or at least he is if you don't know where to look. kon himself insists that jackie is a perfect mix of both him and tim, it's just that distinguish curly hair and golden-brown skin throw people off most of the time — jackie for sure has tim's nose and cheekbones, tim's high forehead, tim's sheepish smiles and tim's cunning smirks. he's also a bit leaner that kon as he gets older and also a little bit shorter, although he's still taller than both tim and wendy

— wendy is a certified horse girl, she took horse riding lessons since she was like five (she was begging tim for y e a r s really, at first he insisted on waiting till she was at least six but i guess her kryptonian powers kicked in a little earlier and it doubled down some of tim's parental anxiety, although he definitely was there for a first few lessons just to keep an eye on her). damian got her her own horse eventually, because of course he did. he is her favorite uncle ever since

— she's a true crime videos/podcasts enjoyer (that's how she bonds with her dad)

— jackie is very much into making paper collages since he was around eight years old and has made his first one in school for fathers day (tim has framed it immediately and set it on his table in the WE office; it's still there after years); he used to have a lot of social anxiety as a kid because of being homeschooled 'till first grade and being very attached to tim, and has found the process of making paper collages very soothing

— jackie graduates college eventually (alfred: "thank god. at least one of them")

— they both eventually got into photography like their dad, but jackie is taking more of a professional approach, whereas wendy is mostly doing it for the sake of keeping the memories; that's why she has a small digital camera that she always carries around (it's covered in cute sparkling stickers because duh)

— they are both pan and demisexual

— as i mentioned, the kids were homeschooled for a while, by which i mean that they never went to kindergarten because tim was too paranoid about any potential kryptonian superpowers kicking in anytime; the other reason was that tim's kind of a helicopter parent, especially after coming back from his brucequest, and he's very dependent on both of his kids

— yes it backfires later

— jackie loves his dad more than anything else in the world, and has spent most of his early childhood following him around and throwing tantrums the second tim was out of his sight (which was quite rare, to be fair, at least until tim had to get back to his job at the WE); tim is 90% sure that it has something to do with him being gone for a while to find and save bruce. it evens out a little as jackie gets older and starts going to school and then college, but he's still pretty much codependent, and any decision that he makes about his life ties back to "what would dad do; will it make dad proud/happy; what would dad want for me"

— wendy on the other hand is kon's daughter through and through, she admires him and looks up to him but she has a very complicated, conflicted feelings about her and her brother's circumstances of birth, making her anxious in a way that is like "oh my god am i being annoying what if he doesn't like me what if he looks at me and only sees a living proof of his humans rights violation should i consider never talking to him again god i HATE my dad", so most of her actual interactions with kon are quite awkward on both ends

— tim and kon do not get together until kids are around their late teens, so neither of them calls or really considers kon dad, even tho he definitely played a significant part in their upbringing as soon as he came around with the whole child-cloning situation. wendy was the first to call him dad not long after she moved to the kent's farm, which was an accident, really — she was trying out vigilantism for the first time and got her ass kicked bc lack of experience, and her first instinct at being cornered by a villain was to literally just call for dad (at the back of her mind she meant tim, because to their family kon was always just kon, but the moment he pulled her in and put his hand on the back of her head and said "it's okay, sweetheart, dad's here", nothing has ever made more sense to her than kon being her father. the thought was both thrilling and terrifying)

— tim is "dad", kon is "pa" (if that wasn't already obvious)

— also, yes. wendy eventually moves to the kent's farm to live with kon; more on that in some other post

— kon kind of inherited the kent's farm after both john and martha passed away; technically clack is still the one who owns it, but his and his family's life is mostly in metropolis and he didn't want the place he grew up in turn into an empty memorial of it's better days + he also knew how important it was to kon at the time to have a place he could always return to, so yeah, everyone won in this situation

[stinmybubs]

"Do It For Us." Pt.4

AN: I LIED SHE IS IN UA CUZ SHIKETSU IS TOO STRICT AND SHE NEEDS CREATIVE FREEDOM.

Summery: quirkless and weak, two words treat have defined this girl for too long. She can be useful to her friends, she can finally carve out a way into the hero life. From the sidelines. But…Izuku has a quirk? When? How? He’s a liar….

M. Izuku x AFAB! Reader x B. Katsuki

Pt.1 | Pt.2 | Pt.3

Being an inventor had opened your eyes, so many possibilities with creating things you realize heros will need. Some quirks can’t be regulated without support items which means you would be a vital part of history!

And some quirks weren’t hard to replicate. In a way you could research quirks and make your own. You had so many plans and ideas to share, especially after taking your first step in your classroom.

You felt your heart racing, transferring a month into school was stressful, everyone already knew each other and probably had clicks.

The support course, you were able to branch off after your main classes into the little indoor laboratories or whatever they’re called to create. Of course of of them were taken, two people in one garage.

Of course you were lucky enough to have one more spot so you didn’t have to walk across the entire school to get to an empty one. The teacher had told you that your partner will be a girl since of your record.

You nervously approach the lab, a box of blueprints and tools in your hands and you push the door open to see a girl with a big smile on her face laughing maniacally while creating her creations.

“My babies will be perfect! After I showcase these babies they’ll have to recruit me and buy my precious babies!” The pink haired girl cheered holding one of her ‘babies’ in the air.

You simply sneak into the room, making your way to the long desk across the room. Surprisingly it was empty, you thought since she was alone she’d take up the whole space.

“Hiya!” You felt a hand suddenly on your shoulder making you scream. “Oh my god!” You drop your box on the desk turning around to see the pink haired girl who had grime all over her face smiling at you.

“I was told a female transfer student will need space! So I kicked the guy who was in here outta here!! Of course I wanna work with a girl! We can create precious babies together! By the way the names Mei Hatsume! Wanna see some of my babies!? Oo what’s in here!” The girl was spouting so much you couldn’t even comprehend anything she was saying, everything was happening so fast.

It kind of reminded you of Izuku.

“Oh! That’s just my blueprints…I wanna see if I can replicate complicated quirks maybe even see if you can like I dunno…change some? An example would be if Mount lady could control her size! It would be super useful especially when navigating a large city with cramped roads. Mount lady would-“ you cut yourself off as you saw the girl listening intently, you face flushing realizing you were rambling like Izuku normally would.

“That’s a brilliant idea! Me and you are gonna get along just fine! You’re also just in time for the sports festival! It’s literally in 2 days!” She cheered helping you set up your side of the room.

Mei was a doll, you loved her bright energy and her ability to create was grand! You two spent the day going over blue prints and possible tools you could bring to the sports festival.

This is where you heard that class 1-A was the most popular class right now, the hero course. That’s where you could assume where Bakugou and Izuku was, well either 1-A or 1-B.

“Yeah that Bakugou guy is a real snob!” You flinch at the name, currently you were fetching some history books with a fellow classmate to stock up in your home room class.

“Yeah should’ve known class 1-A would be to egotistical. Only a select few get into the hero course.”

Class 1-A huh? You thought, spacing out at the thought of visiting Bakugou. He’s only a few halls away, you could totally just pop in. But we’re you ready?

“Ah!” You didn’t know what was happening, one minute you were walking with a stacks of books the next you were falling. Turns out a whole group of students starting bombarding the halls.

“What the hell!?” You look around, picking yourself up noticing the group of students making their way down the halls. “They late for class or?”

“Nah, they’re checkin out class 1-A, not only did they survive a real villian attack but in the sports festival they can switch you into the hero class if they see you fit for it. Meaning some kids, gonna get moved out.” Your class mate stated, helping you pick up your books that you had dropped.

“It’s not like I wanna get in so…-“ your class mate continued talking while you stared down the hall. Thoughts racing through your mind. You hadn’t seen Bakugou in months.

I wonder how he’s doing…

I’m just not ready.

The days before the sports festival past quickly, you told mei that you didn’t think you could participate in the sports festival due to your anxiety. She understood right away and told you she will represent your babies at the festival in your steed.

Mei was such a sweet girl, she always knew exactly what to say to you and how to make you feel better. You felt so lucky.

You watched from the area your class was assigned, you were basically the only one there as all the classes walked into the large stadium. You heart raced, you immediately could see the two you longed to see the most.

They haven’t changed. You smile watching as the classes line up to listen to the hero Midnight announce the rules and who’s going to sing the pledge.

“Bakugou Katsuki!” The skimpy suited hero yelled, unexpected. You thought that Katsuki would be the last person to represent a class, due to his very aggressive behavior. You simply watched as he walked up into the podium, hands stuck in his pockets.

“I just wanted to say. That I’m gonna win.”

Oh my god…

Your jaw drops and you cover your mouth, trying to hold your laughter in. God damn it Katsu! Honestly you should’ve known he’d do something like this, his bold confidence was something I’m you used to admire. Come to think of it you were doing fine seeing him.

MaybeI am ready…

But you just didn’t want to risk it, ruining your own life after another episode, you don’t think you would ever recover from another episode. Especially after finding your calling.

As the games went on, you watched the first event intently, seeing Bakugou fighting for first place gave you a rush of your own. You couldn’t help but be internally rooting for him.

Until you saw Izuku flying past the the two boys fighting for first place. Your eyes widen, like in slow motion you saw the boy you admired all your life. Izu..

You stood up in your chair, now you had no clue who to root for! Woah! Izu is so smart…he used the bombs to propel himself in front of the rest of them. He always was the smart one, you know instead of a hero he couldn’t taken the support course. With that brain he could make fine equipment for hero’s.

Your smile fades, how did he get into the hero course..? Only the best of the best, with quirks can get in…

Before your mind begins to race, you quickly calm yourself down, settling back in your seat to continue watching the race play out.

As the games went on, the Calvary battle gave you a good laugh watching Bakugou fly around and angrily yell at his teammates.

You smile as both your childhood friends made it to the finals, Bakugou was fighting a cute girl! And Izuku was fighting a todoroki. Well the only fights you were interested in paying any attention to, you kind of spaced out for the rest of the fights until theirs came.

Well of course you had a very good laugh when Mei toyed with that glasses guy!

Finally it was Bakugou’s fight, of course you were voting for him. Watching as he basically bullied the girl, her quirk…they said it was gravity right. Yknow if I had it I would. Then you realized what she was doing, looking up to see the broken pieces of the stage floating above the stadium.

I fucking love her. You thought excitedly, you kind of hoped this would work, the girl was tirelessly charging herself at your blonde haired friend. Hearing the crowd booing Bakugou broke your heart, not only for Bakugou but the fact that they’re totally underestimating this girl!

One of the announcers lectured the heros booing him, as the rocks came falling down, it was an amazing sight. Woah! The hero course is so…amazing. But with one blast Bakugou countered her attack basically ending the fight there after the girl collapsed due to exhaustion.

You felt a hand land on your shoulder startling you as you realize it was just Mei. “Did you see our babies Y/n! They did so good! Don’t worry if any agencies ask about them I’ll let them know you helped me too! And of course some of them are your design.” She cheered giving you the biggest hug as you watch Izuku step out onto the stage.

You tuned out the world during this fight, there was no way he was going to win. Especially without a quirk. Your memory remembered the time where he told you that he had a chance to get in. Does that mean…? No…so was he not quirkless? Did he find out he had one?

So he wasn’t like you?

As the fight when on, he managed to counter every attack which made your heart sink. Confirming your thoughts as you watch his bones break with each powerful use of his quirk.

He had a quirk? When? Since when did he get a quirk?

You didn’t know how or when. All you knew is that he wasn’t like you anymore, he wasn’t quirkless. A weakling it be pushed around all your life, a defenseless bug to be squashed underneath everyone’s feet.

Or was he just lying…did he lie about not having a quirk? Laughing behind your back all these years as he pretended to be your friend? Your alley? Your only hope? Your mind raced with thoughts you didn’t even know you had streams of tears rushing from your eyes down your face, Mei calling out your name.

Since you weren’t budging, staring at the fight as she Mei quickly rushed you out into a waiting room. “Is everything okay Y/n!?? What happened?” You snap back to reality, just breaking down in tears.

You felt like a fool. You felt so betrayed, your heart felt so broken in that very moment. You couldn’t be here anymore, you couldn’t.

“Did you hear?”

“Yeah some girl from the support course was in tears over this fight.”

“Heard it was a quirkless transfer.”

“I wonder what that was about.”

Katsuki rolled his eyes at the bumbling rumors going around the students, watching as Izuku and todoroki fought.

“Her name I think was.. Y/n L/n?” He immediately perked up, turning to the class that was sitting above them to try to listen closer. She must’ve saw Deku usin that stupid quirk. What a fuckin idiot. Katsuki clenched his fist, getting out of his seat to fines you.

He needed to see you.

At least one more time.

AN: maybe this will be a long term series I keep cutting off the romance 😭 IM SO SORRY I LOVE YOU GUYS Xoxo Stinmybubs

[twisted-wonderland-but-gayer]

Hello there. I've seen your blog for a while but I'm finally requesting. What about a male yuu who has the personality of someone who looked into the eyes of God and fist fought him? A yuu who will kick someone's ass for breathing the same air as him. Azul and Leona don't stand a chance.

Fighty yuu to Idia and Malleus- Oh dear. Oh dear, gorgeous

Fighty yuu to everyone else- You fuckin donkey. *beats them with a chair*

Fighty Yuu

Oh yeah I also made Yuu stupid strong for the memes. I did the first 3 dorms cause I ran outta ideas. He him pronouns used

Ever since you first arrived at NRC, you have given zero fucks. After all, having constant visions about coming to NRC combined with the fact that you were woken up in a mysterious world after being kidnapped had already got you on edge. What really set you off, however, was the fact that nearly everyone around you was an asshole.

No seriously, you can't even have a good relationship with someone at this school without people thinking you're weird. On top of that, there's one dorm dedicated to being "alpha males". It doesn't help that everyone's mentality here is kill or be killed and the strong should rule the weak.

It only makes sense for you to try and blend in, right?

You truly tried to pick your battles sparingly. Truly. After all, fighting everyone would be a waste of time and energy, and yet on the very first day here, you had already gotten into your first big fight.

Forced to go to some dumb cave all because a trio of dumbasses already soured your mood. On top of this, there was now some sort of monster in the mines you were now in that wants to kill you, and unlike those three idiots Deuce, Ace, and Grim, you will have nowhere to go if you get kicked outta NRC.

This is how your main friendship trio soon learned about your fighting skills and knew even better not to mess with you. They even tried joking about it with their other dorm members who just brushed it off as an exaggeration… oh how wrong they were

Heartstabyul

It took everything in you to not jump Riddle the second he started insulting you. He wasn't worth it. Not in the slightest, so when given the opportunity to finally get back at him, who were you not to take it?

"Everyone evacuate the dorm right now!" Trey yelled out, guiding dorm members out of the front with Crowley as everyone ran from cover. "What's happening?!" Grim shrieks as Riddle's visible veins start to become black, a shadowy figure looming behind him as he changes shape.

"Overblot! It's an overblot!" Cater yelps, pulling Ace and Deuce by their sleeves to guide them out. "How do we stop it?" Deuce asks as he fights against Cater's tug. "You aren't seriously thinking of fighting it are you?" Crowley practically demands. "No, I'm with Deuce, we have to save him!" Trey pleaded with the Headmage as Ace butted in. "Yeah! I'm not letting him off the hook that easy!" Cater stared at his dorm mates, closing his eyes before sighing loudly. "Oh fine! I'll guess help, cay cay?"

"Wait…" you paused, thinking for a moment. "If we knock him out we can save him," you asked, glancing over at Crowley as the wind swirls and blows harder. "Well yes essentially—" The headmage didn't get to finish his sentence.

"Yuu what the hell are you doing?!" Ace squawks as you immediately charge Riddle. You practically pummel into the dorm leader, making him stumble back before swinging, getting a few quick jabs on him. You didn't even register the insults he spewed at you as he began summoning spell after spell to fire at you, which you dodged by sliding and flipping over.

The group behind you immediately acts as support while trying to get you to calm down. The battle was over quickly, much more quickly if you decided to try Trey's plan. Once the blot left Riddle's body, Trey immediately got to his side to start healing up every single bruise on his body…

"Who has the shitty upbringing now?" "Really Yuu? Right now?" Grim glared at you. "I'm just saying!"

***

Not many dorm members were there to witness your aggression, everyone sort of just thought of it as a joke. You're magicless, right? There's no way you did that much! Yet little did they know you were just getting started.

The Unbirthday Party afterward was a pretty good success, and you did apologize to Riddle for going a little overboard. (The group with you now knows to never cross you) and was an overall pleasant experience… up until someone invites you to play croquet against them…

There were many casualties that day.

Savannaclaw

"Sorry, you can't play with us Yuu, you don't have magic shishishishi!" Ruggie cackled as you sat down on the bench. "Beat their asses for me you four" You nodded your head over at Ace, Deuce, Grim, and Jack who were now fighting for your honor, investigation be damned.

Watching the boys was depressing. The four were completely uncoordinated. Running into each other and fumbling the disk. Idiots. It was their own faults they were so competitive. Through all the running and the spells, you overheard some snide remarks from the other team. Them insulting you is disrespectful. Them dissing your boys is a violation.

Ruggie flicks the disk over to Leona, who is poised ready to catch it. Merely inches away from his casting range, you snag the disk. Almost amused, Leona smirks. "You realize you're only allowed to use magic to make the disk float, Scavenger." The smugness in his voice was beyond irritating.

To prove a point, you slammed the disk through the air, sending the disk flying across the field and into the scoring ground, creating a small crater. "I don't need magic." You sneer at the lion whose eyes were wide before he narrowed them. "Come on guys, we're wasting our time."

Walking off with your squad, you don't miss how all the all Savanaclaw students you played against, especially Ruggie, gawk as you guide your homies off. The whole way, Jack asking how the hell you did that.

"Oh hes just like that Jack, shoulda seen what he did to Riddle!" Grim beams as Jack makes a mental note not to cross you.

****

The overblot incident with Leona was solved within minutes. Leona got got.

Octavinelle

You would think that Floyd, who is surrounded by two of the most informed people on campus, would know not to mess with Yuu. Chances are, however, that even if he did know, he would have actively sought Yuu out to mess with him anyways.

Floyd smirked down at your usual trio. "Crabby… Mackerel… and Baby Seal, ehe..!" The eel chuckles, satisfied with the name he has created for your group. "And then you…" Floyd turns to you, standing there with your cafeteria tray. The eel interrupted you before you were even able to sit down.

You keep your blank and tired expression as the eel approaches you in an attempt to intimidate. "You're a weird one, huh, little prefect?" You take a step back from him, trying to create a comfortable distance between the two of you. "Floyd, don't be rude to the Ramshackle Prefect now, that's unprofessional." His brother Jade gives his usual sadistic smirk as he places his hand on his chest politely, standing next to his brother.

"Aww but Jade! I'm just trying to give 'em a name… mmm…" You took another step back. "Hehe, the way your backing up reminds me of a lil shrimp!" Floyd laughs to himself. "I think I'm gonna call you Little Shrimpy hehe!"

"Um… OK... can I go eat now dudes? I have class after this…" A mischievous glint appeared in Floyd's eyes as his grin started to show his sharp rows of teeth. "Aww little Shrimpy is trying to be tough! How cute~"

"Don't call me that." "Oya? What's that?" Jade asked, his eyes narrowing at you as he smirks. "I said stop calling me that." Jade glances over at Floyd who absolutely beams. "Oh yeah, whatcha gonna do about little shrimpy?" You gripped your cafeteria tray tighter.

The twins looked at each other, chuckling, thinking you wouldn't do anything. Floyd leans in, voice dropping lower. "Well?" And like that, you slammed your tray into the side of Floyd's head.

The entire cafeteria turned to watch as you grab onto Floyd's hair and hit his head on the cafeteria tables and dragging him across the whole thing sending food trays flying in the air. The second Floyd got back his bearing he immediately started to kick and swing. You admit he did hit you pretty good a few times.

Your grip on his hair tightened as you continued to swing at him. The people in the cafeteria cheered at the sight, many chanting fight over and over. Every time Jade tried to step in both you and Floyd pushed him away.

It took a good amount of staff and your friends to separate the two of you. Even Azul had to hold back Floyd as he snarled fiercely, thrashing in an attempt to get at you. You ended up pulling out some of his hair as you both were forced away, he nearly lost his entire black locks of hair.

The Octavinelle trio will have to keep your personality in mind when it comes to future negotiations… Azul must make sure that his right-hand men stay by him when it comes to it…

Also congratulations! You unlocked a sparring partner!

[jeansplaytoy]

Complaining - Ony. 5

<<part four part six>>

arguing, sexual themes(?), language, drinking, smoking, etc.

sorry for the wait yalllll . proof reading later , short bcus a lot happens in the next chapter 🤲🏾

that same night, ony led you into a party. probably the last one you planned on going to for the week if somebody pissed you off tonight.

you smacked your lips. “ian even feel like coming to this dumbass party, ony. you always gotta make me do some shit.”

“stop complaining befo’ i make you stop.” he muttered in your ear. you rolled your eyes and looked away with a small smile.

as he went to the main living room, he dapped a few people up, spoke to a few people, before finally sitting down, sitting you down beside him.

“so yo ass finally got his mind straight about what he shoulda chose?” connie tilted his head, taking a drag of his blunt. ony scoffed. “man, you acting like i was actually finna be wit that girl for that long. we already done.” he smiled to himself.

“yeah, he knew better.” you shrugged, making ony roll his eyes at you. “ony go get me a drink.” you mumbled. ony smacked his lips playfully and stood up. “ight, hol up.” he mumbled, walking towards the kitchen

“so y’all back together?” sasha tilted her head with a grin.

“no.” was the first thing you said. and quick. “we just sorted things out now he think he got me.” you shrugged.

“y’all toxic as helllll. so y’all finally talked shit out and ain’t argue over every little thing?” mikasa raised an eyebrow. “surprising.”

you sighed loudly. “oh my-, y’all never enjoy things how they is y’all always gotta push it.” you rolled your eyes.

“it ain’t our fault we expected less outta you-“

before connie could finish egging the shit on, someone else appeared.

“y’all know where ony at?” onys ex girlfriend appeared out of nowhere. you raised an eyebrow and glanced back at the kitchen. “why?”

“because he was just texting me telling me he wasn’t bouda come to this party and ion believe it.”

all eyes went directly to you. big and bold.

“the fuck?” you squinted.

-

the quietness in the car on the way home was unbearable.

not to you, but to ony. you were being weird ever since you first showed up to the party, now you didn’t wanna say anything to him, and for what?

“if you ain’t wanna go to the damn party then you shoulda said that. ion know why you acting weird all of a sudden because i went to get a drink.” he said, unlocking the door to his house, since you sadly agreed to stay the night. what a coincidence.

“you a weird ass nigga, you know that? to sit here and lie in my damn face about a bitch you said you ain’t want but was texting her the whole ride to the party, ony you a damn joke.” you said, kicking your heels off and stomping upstairs.

“y/n… what is you talkin bout bruh?” ony frowned at you went in his room where you were. you took your dress off as ony leaned on the doorway. “everyday it’s something new witcho stupid ass.” you pointed at him.

he smacked his lips and groaned. “sum new wit’ me? you sittin here complaining and ion even know what the fuck i did.”

“and you still wanna sit here and lie in my face?” you squinted and tilted your head. rummaging through the personalized drawer he had for you and your clothes to find something to sleep in, you frowned, huffing.

“how would i lie in yo face and i ain’t even said nothin?”

before you should even get your shirt all the way on, you froze. “you told me you was done wit’ that bitch. you know what she told me? she told me you told her to go to that fuckin party. how the fuck you invited two different bitches to one party?”

ony stared at you for a second before opening him his mouth to say something, but you cut him off.

“ion wanna hear it. when i see that bitch, we talkin to her. together.”

[sleepyhollands]

Omg can u pls do a blurb ab Demon!Harry finds Angel!Y/N being bullied by some other demons and he stops them before they go too far?? 😇😇😇

harry was just on his way home after a terribly long afternoon of making sinister deals and collecting the souls of the damned when he heard the commotion across the street. normally, it being literal hell, he wouldn’t expect much differently from the world around him, but he happened to take a fleeting glance toward the whooping laughter and mocking voices, and saw something that made him do a double take.

now, there is no place in hell for the color white, save for the teeth of the few demons who care for dental hygiene and the whites of their eyes before they’re consumed with inky blackness. so imagine harry’s surprise when he thought he spotted an array of ivory feathers, scuffed as they may be, flutter behind a wall of burly demons whose backs were turned to him. but no, that couldn’t be right… right?

call it the pull of curiosity (months later, he would call it fate), but harry felt like he should go over there, if only to confirm his suspicions. so he did.

harry walked up behind the group, quietly so as not to be heard, with his arms crossed and his jaw set. he was still many meters away, but the closer he got, the better he could hear, and suffice to say he was becoming concerned. now, harry’s all for roughing someone up— it’s quite literally in his job description, right under ‘hijacking high school slumber party ouija sessions’— but something about the whimpers of pain and pleas for mercy weren’t sitting well with him.

“please, i-i’m sorry, i don’t know how i—,” the voice cut off with a sharp cry.

was that a girl’s voice? surely they didn’t kidnap a girl from the surface? harry may be a demon, but even he had some morals.

“aw, is it scared? you scared, sweetheart?”

“how did a pretty little thing like you get all the way down here, huh? ’s like you’re beggin‘ for us to grab you by the neck and—”

“quiet, dumbass. don’t want anyone to know about this. don’t wanna have to share it, do we? fuck, we’re so fucking lucky.”

harry saw the demons shuffle around a bit, seemingly manhandling whatever girl they were tormenting. when they turned and harry’s view was no longer obstructed, his eyes widened momentarily as his wildest suspicion was confirmed. but how in satan’s name did an angel get to hell?

one of the demons had his arm wrapped around the terrified girl’s middle, his broad chest to her back, her wings crumpled in what harry assumed could only be quite painful between them, free hand clamped over her mouth. another grabbed both her wrists in one of his, squeezing tight and causing her knees to buckle as she sobbed into the first creature’s palm. harry could’ve sworn he heard a muffled “please!” from beneath it.

“the things we’re gonna do to you, doll face…,” mused one of the demons who wasn’t grabbing the angel, instead groping his crotch, squeezing and moaning, “fuck, i’m hard just thinking about it.”

their poor celestial victim’s eyes went wide with unmistakable fear, and she squirmed harder in their grasp, kicking her legs and subsequently having them restrained by the fourth and final gang member. she wasn’t touching the ground anymore, and had no more leverage to move in their grip.

“c’mon, let’s get outta here before someone—”

“what’s all this about, gentlemen?”

harry hadn’t even realized he’d come up to the edge of the scene until the demons before him shot their heads up in surprise, their leader (crotch-groper) leveling out to just about an inch shorter than him.

“harry!” he said with a grin, flashing harry his yellowing teeth as if they’d been friends for years, “what brings a demon of your standing down to this here part of hell?”

“answer the question or i’ll deliver you to lucifer myself.” harry didn’t spare the angel a glance, not wanting to alarm her further, but from the corner of his eye he could see her begin to tremble in her restraint.

crotch-groper, who harry soon recognized as lyle, a rather young and distasteful demon, clenched his jaw before responding. “found her all curled up an‘ alone in the alley. we were gonna go have some fun with her at sanjay’s, if you know what i mean. you want in? i just got a batch of new devices i haven’t had the chance to try out yet, and a fuckin‘ angel’s guaranteed to be a vir—”

“enough,” harry held up a hand to silence lyle, who only shut his mouth (albeit begrudgingly and with a huff) due to harry’s higher ranking— he really didn’t want to get reported to the boss… he quite liked his legs and wasn’t fond of the idea of them bending the other way.

harry finally took a good look at the angel, keeping his face stoic. her eyelashes and flushed cheeks glistened with tears, her body was shaking like a leaf, and she looked on the verge of hyperventilating. he couldn’t explain it, but harry found himself itching to smooth out the crease between her brows with his thumb.

he wished he could signal to her that he was handling this.

eyes meeting lyle’s again, he said, “an angel’s presence in hell is a grade six security violation. in other words, above your pay grade. she is hereby relinquished from your custody and into mine to be dealt with accordingly.”

“the fuck she is!” shouted one of the lackeys holding the girl, “we found her first!” and with so much as a tilt of his head, harry made it so his ribs snapped inwards and punctured his lungs, effectively ending the creature’s existence and his grip on the angel’s legs, allowing her to stand as he crumpled to the ground.

four pairs of eyes widened at harry, and then one of them squeezed so tightly shut he worried they might never open again.

“any more complaints, then?”

the three remaining gang members shook their heads, releasing their hold on the celestial, causing her to scrape her palms and knees on her short trip to the asphalt with a pitiful “oof!” if harry had blinked, he’d have missed their instantaneous dissipation from the scene.

fucking finally.

crouching to the ground where the innocent being was curled up into herself, harry reached out a hand to gently touch her shoulder as he began, “hey.”

but he didn’t get very far, because the second his skin made contact with her own, the girl scrambled backwards into the nearest alley wall with a gasp. dirt was collecting under her fingernails, at least one of her wings was definitely broken, she had no idea how she ended up in satan’s domain, and she was just so scared.

harry noticed how she couldn’t even look him in the face, her hands covering her own for fear he would attack her. he felt a pressure in his chest at the thought.

“’s all right, love,” he reassured. “’s all right, ’m not going t‘ hurt you.” she didn’t move an inch, so he patiently continued. “i’m harry. what do they call you?”

and while she was terribly afraid to speak to him, she was more afraid of what he might do if she continued to ignore him.

“y-y/n.”

harry smiled at the pretty name. “it’s nice to meet you, y/n.”

y/n kept her hands in front of her face as she responded. “nice… nice to meet you too, harry.”

he thought it was endearing, really, how her manners were so ingrained into her being that she could be polite to him even now. harry wanted to move a little closer, but he didn’t want to spook her. so he asked her if she could move her hands and open her eyes.

y/n shook her head so fervently, harry worried she might give herself whiplash. “he’s still there,” she sobbed, upper body shaking with her cries.

“’s just us here, love.”

“n-no… the man. the… the one you…,” she couldn’t bring herself to say it, but harry caught on. the one you killed.

oh, right. harry had forgotten him before he’d even hit the dirt. he waved his hand and the corpse disappeared from sight.

“he’s not, promise. no one to be seen for miles.”

tentatively, y/n lowered her hands, but they still hovered over her mouth, prepared to shoot back up at any moment. her eyes opened up to him again, and this time harry could admire their beauty without having to pretend to be indifferent.

“hi,” he smiled a gentle smile, settling his palms on his knees so she could see them still and empty. “can you tell me what happened, sweetheart?”

y/n flinched at the pet name, which didn’t go unnoticed by harry, and it took him a few moments to understand.

“aw, is it scared? you scared, sweetheart?”

“oh. sorry, um, about those blokes. they’re right big twats, they are. they won’t bother you again.”

y/n slowly began to relax, ever so slightly. but she still had a million unanswered questions, and her guard was still way up. why was this (rather handsome) demon being so kind to her? was it true he was going to be ‘dealt with’ by him? and why… what was that warm feeling she got in her tummy each time he called her ‘love’? she figured she should start with the most important question.

“what are you going to do with me?”

harry could literally feel the fear flowing through her veins, could practically hear her thoughts running a mile a minute. his face softened.

“well. first, we’re gonna have to take care of those wings, and any other injuries you may have. after that, we’ll try to find a way to get you home.”

y/n didn’t look convinced. “you’re… you’re not gonna… lock me away?”

“did you commit a crime in heaven? did you sin?”

“no…,” y/n tried to think back, tried to remember the moments before she wound up in hell, but it was like she was missing part of her memories. “i-i don’t think so.”

harry stood up, wiping his palms on his trousers and holding out a hand to help her up. “well, then there you are. it might be hard to believe, but there is a system for punishment in satan’s kingdom, too. if you haven’t done anything, we’ll get you right on home.” he didn’t say it aloud, but a small part of his heart twinged at the idea of letting her leave.

why was that?

y/n gratefully took his hand, but wasn’t able to help pull herself up. she was too weak, and her whole body ached. she figured she was only feeling it now from the passing of adrenaline as harry helped her relax. a whine tumbled from her lips as she struggled to stand.

“here,” harry spoke in a quiet voice. he stepped closer to her, and on instinct she shied away. he paused for a second, opening up his palms and facing them upwards as he approached to show he meant no harm. “y‘ can’t walk, love. let me help.”

hesitantly, the angel nodded, and harry swooped down to pick her up under the knees and shoulders. a small squeak escaped her lips as he pulled her off the ground, and he cooed, “i’ve got you. i’ll be careful.”

once she was securely in his arms, y/n asked the next biggest question on her mind.

“why are you helping me, harry?”

harry looked down at her big doe eyes, subconsciously pleading for him to protect her from the unknown horrors of this underworld she’s never hoped to find herself in. her small fists gripped his shirt like a vice, crinkling the well-pressed material, though harry found he didn’t mind.

“well,” he breathed, “this isn’t your home. and you’re hurt. and i know if i was confused and alone in a scary new place, i’d want some help, too.” then, to lighten the mood a bit, he added, “though, truthfully, it’d be hard to get me to admit it.”

y/n mirrored his small smile, uttering a breathy, “thank you.” her fingers still clung to his shirt just as tightly, but she relaxed enough to let her head fall to rest against his collarbones, and harry counted that as a small victory.

his wings, long and dark and somewhat ashy, extended fully behind him, and began wrapping themselves around the sweet girl in his arms, a barrier between her and the dark secrets of hell. then, generating no noise or wind as though nothing had occurred at all, the pair dissipated from sight.

taglist: @fahsey @caswinchester2000 @lmaotshollandd @jackiehollanderr @nervousdadmode @amii-nyc @skitmix @auggie2000 @voguesir @yourgoldengirls @hunnybunimdun @lolooo22 @atoris-fantasy

and also @cherryjuiceblues <3 :D

[shadowuponstorm]

You're F*cking Joking

Like everyone in the X-Mansion, Reader is a mutant with the ability to manipulate minds telepathically and have regenerative healing. She and a certain Wolverine have been butting heads since Reader joined the mansion, and everyone has had enough, so what will happen when Charles Xavier pairs the two up for a mission?

"No," Logan said from beside me as Charles voiced that Logan didn't know what he was going to say, "I already know because you have her in here."

"Geez, thanks asshole," I telepathically put in his head, making him jerk his head in my direction with his famous scowl.

"Hey, no telepathic manipulation," Charles said as I turned to him and told him, "I was simply telling this broody bear of a man what he already knows."

"Why I outta-" Logan responded as Charles cut him off, "This. This is what I wanted to talk to the two of you about."

"What do you mean?" I asked as Logan and I looked at Charles in confusion.

"You two have been going after each other's necks since Miss L/N's arrival at the mansion and frankly, everyone's had enough of it," Charles tells us as I felt my blood freeze.

I didn't know it had gotten this bad between us, but it isn't my fault Logan's been an ass to me since the very first day.

"Charles, I-" I started to say before he raised a hand up, "I just wanted to apologize for my behavior."

"Apology accepted, but that's not going to be enough for everyone else," Charles responds as Logan quirks an eyebrow and asks what would be enough, "You and Y/N are going on a mission together. Not an official one, but it should be long enough for the two of you to hash out your differences."

Before I could respond, Logan grunted out, "You're fucking joking, bub."

"I am indeed not joking. You both are going somewhere and will not return until this issue is resolved. Do you understand?" Charles said as I confirmed my understanding while Logan gave a small nod.

After the both of us exited Charles' office, and before we headed to our rooms to pack for this "mission," we both gave each other a look that said, "This is a stupid idea."

Where the "mission" takes place...is in the fucking woods. Great idea, Charles, stick two of your dangerous mutants together among the trees for a bonding exercise. After we arrived, Logan was already ahead of me gathering wood for the fire we'll need to light later tonight while I set up the tents, except there's only one tent in the duffle with a note from Storm saying, "Good luck."

"Damn it Ororo," I muttered to myself before I heard Logan drop the wood into the pit before he asked why I was cursing Storm, "She packed only one tent, we have to share."

"Of course we do," Logan mumbled as I glared at him and said, "Well, if you have a problem with that, you're free to sleep outside in the wilderness."

"Just put the tent up," Logan grunted as he stomped away to grab more firewood, leaving me alone yet again.

"Ugh! Why must he be so infuriating?!" I shouted in my head as I kicked the ground in frustration.

Once I calmed down, I started building the tent, which, thankfully, wasn't that small so Logan and I wouldn't be squished against one another. The sun began to set, and after Logan lit the fire pit, I started cooking dinner. A few minutes of silence passed, and Logan was smoking a cigar before I said, "Why do you hate me?"

"What do you mean?" Logan asked, but it was muffled by the cigar in his mouth.

"Take the damn cigar out of your mouth if you're going to talk. I can hardly understand you," I snapped back as Logan rolled his eyes and took the cigar before asking me what I meant by my question, "I mean, why do you hate me so much to the point where you want to bicker with me every day."

"I don't hate you," Logan said as I scoffed and told him it was funny that he said that, but his words and actions indeed said differently.

Logan sighed before explaining, "I don't want you to get close to me." Before I could ask why, he continued, "Whenever I get close to someone, they either get hurt or die, and I refuse to let that happen to you."

"Like Scott and Jean?" I asked as Logan nodded his head and mentioned how his first night in the mansion ended up with him stabbing Rogue with his claws from a nightmare, "So you don't want me close to you like a friend, gotcha."

"I didn't say like a friend," Logan said as I looked at him, confused, before he expanded, "Ever since you came to the mansion, I've felt some way about you. I don't know what it could be, but if something happened to you, I couldn't live knowing you're not here anymore."

"Logan," I started to say as I saw the stew was ready and decided to quickly fix the bowls before it gets too hot for the both of us.

"You don't have to get theatrical and tell me I'm not right for you, I get it," Logan responded as I rolled my eyes and telepathically told him to shut the hell up.

"You want to know what I thought about you the first time I saw you?" I asked as Logan gave me a slight nod before taking a bite of the stew, "Guarded, not wanting to give too much about yourself away, and putting the tough guy act on."

"But I also saw someone who cares a lot about everyone around him, even when he thinks no one notices that part of him, but I do. I admire that so much, and yes, while it is infuriating that we keep bickering back and forth, I'm hoping that will change someday," I telepathically told him as I feel his eyes back on me and see him put his bowl down.

Logan gets up from his seat and leans over me, his dog tag hanging between us, our lips inches apart, before he whispers, "Can I kiss you?" I nodded before I felt his hands go into my hair to move my head back so he could turn his head to the side, and we kissed.

"God, her lips are so soft, I could kiss them all day," I hear his thoughts come through, making me pull away with a smile to whisper to him, "You can kiss me anytime you want."

"Good," Logan whispered back with a smile and moved back onto my lips, swiping his tongue on my bottom lip, and I allowed him in.

After what felt like hours kissing, we pulled apart to get air back into our lungs, and I start laughing.

"What's funny?" Logan asked with an amused look on his face.

"Do you think Charles saw this as an outcome?" I asked as Logan shrugged and told me maybe he did, or he just saw our true feelings toward one another through all the fighting and bickering.

-Back at the X-Mansion-

It's been two days since Logan's and mine's mission, and it feels good not bickering or fighting like we used to. Now, it's just playful and joking between us, and of course, Logan has to keep his stone-cold demeanor up around the students so they don't call him a softie. I come down the stairs and go towards the kitchen to see Logan sitting at the table with Rouge and Bobby.

"Morning, guys," I said as I grabbed my mug and poured myself a cup of coffee before I heard Logan's voice, or his thought, come through, "I'm damn lucky she's mine, and her ass looks great in those jeans."

"Down boy, not in front of the kids," I telepathically shot back at him before I turn around to see him with a smirk on his face, "Smug bastard."

"What were you guys talking about?" Rouge asked as she and Bobby looked between us before I shook my head with a laugh and said, "Nothing you need to know."

[mrs-kmikaelson]

01| The Tribrid

Pairing: Klaus Mikaelson x daughter!reader, Marcel Gerard x reader (platonic) Summary: While you're away on an impromptu break, Marcel comes to try and get you to come back to help him face the Mikaelsons who just so happen to be your long lost family (but no else knows that). Warnings: none Words: 3.2K

Masterlist | Part 2

a/n: i guess this kinda fits in with season one, but it's more of an AU than anything. so, it has elements of the s1 plot, like the marcel and klaus feud, the hope plot, but the villains from s1 won't really be present. like i said, AU. but without further adieu, on we go.

New Orleans was a land of plastic beads and festivals for days–a tourist attraction, which basically meant a blood bank. I knew what lurked in the shadows, what whispered through the grapevine behind the music, but Originals... I didn't know they were back.

Word travels fast around the Quarter, but I haven't been there; I was in Mystic Falls, too busy following up on a lead about the Mikaelsons to even realize that they were at the place I started, my home. 

Marcel wouldn't stop talking about it. As soon as I got back, I was flooded with information and, as soon as I got back, I could hear the whispers from a mile away. Most reactions to the arrival of such a family were scared, livid, shocked, but I was none of the above.

I didn't have a thing to say back to Marcel, not a thing to say to the people who were suddenly confusing me with Rebekah Mikaelson. I didn't have an inch of emotion about it, not surprise, not fear. I mean, how could anyone be surprised? How could I be surprised, scared?

How could I be surprised by my own family?

"Klaus needs to learn his place." I internally rolled my eyes at Marcel's, basically, monologue, continuing to sift through pages of the magazine in my hands. "He's outta line." 

Klaus Mikaelson was always out of line– he had no line, no boundaries. He was Klaus Mikaelson and that was the only line there was, but I didn't say that. When Marcel was having one of his tantrums, I learned to just listen to him; interrupting or putting my own two cents in just made the conversation longer and I only wanted it to end. 

"He thinks he can just kick me out of the Quarter, out of my home, the bastard. Who does he think he is?" Rhetorical question, I had to remind myself, holding my tongue. The former king of New Orleans was sitting across from me at a coffee shop in New York. A coffee shop.

He was calling this his 'vacation' but we both knew that the only reason he was here was because boss man told him to leave. Honestly, I don't know why I'm here. I'm supposed to be in a university class, but it doesn't really matter if I can just compel the grade, right?

I was doing psych this time; Cami's always saying all these things to me about how she thinks my brain works and I honestly want to learn how it does. Saying I have a PhD might actually get me a significant other, but, knowing myself, the whole triangle of creatures thing might freak them out. 

At least I haven't gone as low as Marcel.

"Y'know, just because that ass is an Original doesn't mean he's suddenly the shit." 

This time, I didn't bother trying to hide the roll of my eyes, continuing to flip through my magazine as I responded. "Uh... it kinda does." I could feel his glare on my forehead as my eyes widened at Kim K's ass. Not even being a Vampire gives you that- "And, Marcel, I don't know if you've realized it yet, but he isn't just an Original."

I looked up at him for the first time since his rant started and gave him a pointed look. Sometimes, he didn't think with his head. 

Marcel shrugged like he was saying, 'so what' silently. "Tyler what's-his-name is a hybrid, too."

I raised a brow at him. "A hybrid turned by Klaus, and wasn't he the guy who tried to kill Klaus' wife or whatever, inadvertently but intentionally trying to kill himself, and then failed?" 

"Not the point, Y/N/N." The fuck it isn't- "The point is that the man is such a dick because his is so small." Gross. Didn't need to hear that.

"Didn't he adopt you or something?"

"Is that all you're getting from what I'm saying?"

I made a face at him, putting my magazine down on the table. "Can I be honest and say I don't get anything from this conversation?"

He deadpanned, "You're annoying."

"Glad you're just now figuring that out, Cellie." I got up from my seat, patting him on his back. "Please, though, go have this talk with Camille instead."

I started walking away, but Marcel only got up and began following me out, making me hold in a groan. God, men, they can never take a damn hint.

"Hey, where you headed?" He asked, but he dismissed his own question just as quick as I would've. "And aren't you supposed to talk to me and help me figure out my problems? You're studying psych, aren't you?"

I scoffed, "Yeah, people usually pay for a psychiatrist to talk to them." Honestly, I don't know why Marcel was here. With a God complex like his, you'd expect him to stay and, y'know, get himself killed. It's not like him to use his brain so suddenly.

He could've gone to damn Vegas, maybe LA, but he just has to come to where I am, right after I leave. He's getting a break from his 'Kingly' duties; Klaus is taking that off his hands, so why isn't he enjoying it and taking an actual vacation instead of visiting me and calling it a holiday? I'm not the Eiffel Tower, for Pete's sake.

It's a power struggle. People like him, came from the bottom and wanted nothing more than to be at the top, fighting against people like Originals, who had been where my friend wanted to be since the beginning of time. 

Marcel didn't want to admit he was playing a losing game.

"You telling me to go home, Y/L/N?"

I rolled my eyes. What gave it away? "Precisely, Gerard."

I was just about to make it to my car when Marcel sped in front of me. I looked up at the sky and pinched my eyes. God, he was insufferable. Honestly, it shouldn't have surprised me that he came all this way just to bitch. But what he said next did surprise me.

"Come back with me, then."

My eyes snapped open and I stared at him incredulously. What the fuck.

I rubbed my eyes to make sure I wasn't hallucinating and Cellie slapped my arm. "C'mon, Y/N/N. It'll be funnnnnnnnn." The way he dragged out the word did not convince me in the slightest.

I got over my shock and voiced my thoughts. "You want me to come back because you think drama with the Mikaelsons is- fun?"

He was quick with his response. "It could be." He then snorted. "Hell, I'd love to see Klaus' reaction to a girl like you, stronger than him-" I cut him off with my magic, his lips slamming shut immediately. It was only a temporary thing, just stops a person from speaking for a second, so he'd be able to continue right after, but he got the point and shut up.

I've known Marcel for close to fifty years. Met him in the seventies. He tried to kill me and I knocked him off his feet with a classic telekinesis spell. Since then, he's known about who I am and he's also decided that he's better off having me on his team. Whatever the hell that means.

I usually like to keep the whole tribrid thing under wraps, hence why I got Marcel to stop talking.

I gave him a look. "Klaus wouldn't have any reaction what I am, because he wouldn't know." Apparently, my gaze conveyed my message well enough because Marcel raised his hands in surrender. 

"Okay, okay," he conceded. "No one's gotta know. But you should come back anyway."

I can't say I haven't thought about it. I know I can't stay out in New York forever. 

I rolled my eyes. I can't believe I'm actually giving thought to something Marcel says. "Okay, gimme time and I'll think about it."

He grinned and pointed finger guns at me, walking backwards away from me. "Think it over and we'll talk about it tomorrow." He turned around and walked away with a kick in his step before he disappeared completely, moving too fast for the human eye to detect.

I sighed and shook my head, the smallest of smiles growing on my face. Ah, Marcel. 

I pulled out my keys, walking to my car and thinking about what he asked. 

It's sorta odd, I suppose. Considering how long I've been watching the Mikaelsons, you'd think I'd be the first one there in New Orleans, keeping tabs on them, but the only way I knew about their escapades was from Marcel who told me voluntarily.

That was one thing he didn't know about me; no one did. No one knew about my connection to the Mikaelsons, not even the Mikaelsons themselves, which is partially why I don't wanna go back to NOLA just yet.

My apartment's in the Quarter, way too close to the Abbatoir and, according to Marcel, that's now Original HQ. It's too risky, my rational side said.

Yet, the other part of me that spent almost my entire life tracking them, being infatuated with them, thinks that being so close to them would be favourable. 

And, like most times, the irrational part of my brain wins the battle in decision-making.

Fuck. Marcel's gonna have to buy me a lot of alcohol for this one.

Walking through the quarter again is like that human expression 'like riding a bike.' I've obviously never ridden a bike, but I get what the expression is meant to say. It's referring to doing something that comes naturally to you.

That's what this is.

Marcel is beside me as we walk past both all the tourists and locals. It's easy to tell the difference between the two. I compelled movers earlier to unload all my stuff back into my apartment so I have nothing to worry about other than getting reacquainted with my city.

The path we took eventually led us to Rousseau's and as soon as we entered my eyes scanned the bar for Cami, who I know for a fact Marcel is obsessed with. But she's way too good for him.

I went and sat down at the bar and waited for her to come our way. She wasn't paying much attention when she came over, wiping down some glasses. "Hey, what can I getcha?"

"The usual." Her head shot up when she heard me and a smile broke out on her face. "Y/N/N?" She put down what she was holding and came around the counter, embracing me in a hug. "Oh my God, I thought you were gonna be stuck in the big apple for a while still."

I chuckled. "Yeah, well Marcel happened to- no, nevermind, Marcel just happened." She let out a laugh and went back around the counter, greeting Marcel and getting to work on our drinks.

"Well, I'm glad you're back," she said.

Marcel inserted himself into the conversation and I tuned them out after that, letting the two of them flirt. Cami probably didn't define it as flirting, but she definitely was.

I think she liked Marcel, but she was in denial about it. I get why though. She didn't wanna fall for a guy that was bad news and she had doubts about him, reasonable doubts.

But beyond the vampirism and ego, I knew Marcel would treat her right. That's why I got up from my seat straight after downing my drink, catching their attention. 

"Hey, I'm gonna head out, It's getting late anyways and I still have to unpack." Marcel rose a brow at me, knowing I didn't have to unpack shit, but he should be grateful. I'm basically cupid and I'm shooting them both right now.

Cami gave a little sigh. "You just got here, though-"

"I'll be back tomorrow morning, promise!" I smiled at her for emphasis and she untensed and reciprocated the action.

"Okay, I'll see you tomorrow then." Her and Cellie both waved bye to me and I walked out the door. God, I was just itching to get out of there. The tension between them was suffocating me. 

I put my hands into my pockets and glanced at the sky that had darkened significantly from when Marcel and I entered the bar. I guess we were there for longer than I thought.

There weren't really any tourists left walking around, only a few people that actually lived in the area. No vampires were allowed to fuck with the locals and, besides, most of the locals were witches, anyways. 

Even humans like Cami should be safe walking through the Quarter at night, but even then, if you didn't know about the supernatural while living in NOLA then you were in a whole other kind of danger. Knowledge is power.

Even if you were a witch, that was still risky. And if you were a werewolf, then forget it. Vampires were the only people without fear nowadays, it seemed.

Luckily, or unfortunately, I was all three creatures. 

"Back off," My ears picked up the sound of a girl growling. My eyes hadn't found her yet, but my nose worked faster. Werewolf.

Whoever she was talking to seemed to have that ability as well and murmured, "You're a werewolf." He was shaken but then he laughed, "Oh, I'm gonna have fun with you." Vampire.

Damnit, my first day back in the Quarter and, already, I'm dealing with the remnants of drama caused by Marcel. I sighed, thinking it's none of my damn business. But I could hear the sound of that girl's heart pitter pattering and I knew I couldn't just ignore it.

Motherfucker.  

I rolled my eyes and strained my ears a little more to guide me to where they were, my senses leading me to an alleyway where the wolf girl and the vampire stood. His back was facing me so he couldn't see me, but the girl caught my gaze and her eyes widened.

The vampire's head cocked. "What are you looking at?" Just as he turned to face me, I ran up to him and snapped his neck. His body fell to the floor with an ungraceful thump and I pushed a lock of hair away from my face, looking up to the girl who wore an expression of shock.

I had a sarcastic comment in my head that I felt like saying, but honestly, I just wanted to go home so I pushed it to the side and gave her a serious look. "You shouldn't walk all alone in the Quarter at night. It can be dangerous."

She shook off her surprise and stood taller, scoffing, "I can handle myself." Oh, for sure, I thought. This time, I was gonna speak my thoughts, but a heartbeat caught me by surprise. I held back a stagger and looked down to her stomach where the little thumping was coming from. 

A pregnant werewolf.

My stare remained on her stomach as I cautioned, "You really shouldn't be out in the Quarter on your own. Especially if you're pregnant." I looked back up to her when her arms quickly wrapped themselves around her stomach. 

She was a little more reserved now, stepping away from me a little and saying, "Trust me, I've got people looking out for me."

I snorted. "And where are they?"

She didn't reply, instead she only wrapped her arms around herself tighter. I get it; werewolves oughta be careful with vampires in this city and she thinks I'm a vampire- or just a vampire, rather. She pulled her phone out of her pocket and waved it. "I'll call the baby's father now and he'll come get me." She kept staring at me for a few more seconds before adding, "So thank you, really, but I'll be fine now." Translation: please go away. 

I nodded at her and turned around as she began dialling. I wanted to get home anyway and I didn't need to stick around to see any baby daddy drama. Since that girl was a werewolf, baby daddy was probably some form of supernatural and therefore huge ego. Entertaining, but could get annoying.

I continued back on the route to my apartment per usual, passing by a few people and a few other neighbours I waved to. I knew all the locals, and I know for a fact girl doesn't live in the Quarter for two reasons. One, I don't know her, and two, werewolves aren't exactly welcome in the Quarter.

Of course, I'm a werewolf too, but no one knows that.

Knowing that werewolves aren't welcome here makes me wonder if she knew that, makes me wonder why she's here in the first place but as soon as my mind starts wandering, I steer myself back, reminding myself it really is none of my business. 

I'll probably never see her again, anyway.

Sooner than not, I make it to my townhouse. Just before I'm about to go up the steps to the door, I stop and turn to the side, staring out at all the other houses and little shops. If I walked a little further, I'd make it to the compound that was no longer Marcel's territory.

If I walked a little further, the Mikaelsons would be right there. And should they ever walk this way, they might just see me.

I shook my head and walked up the steps, opening my door. 

The Mikaelsons are a problem for another day. Right now, I'm going to bed.

When I wake up the next day, it's noon and someone is calling me. I picked up the phone without checking the caller ID, knowing who it was anyway. "Yes, Marcel?" I rubbed my eyes with the back of my hand and turned over so the sun wasn't fucking my eyeballs.

"Ooh, you sound happy to hear my voice."

"Just elated, Cellie." I stuck my head into my pillow and grumbled, "Elated."

Marcel snickered. "Well, good because we have a party to go to."

My head moves up from the pillow. "What?" Marcel threw parties all the time, but since he lost his power, he didn't have anywhere to throw one.

"It's a Mikaelson bash." My breath got caught in my throat at the mention of the name, but Marel didn't notice, continuing on with bitterness in his voice. "It's to show the city who's in charge now."

I quickly got over the Mikaelson name drop like usual and probed, "But aren't you supposed to be banished from the Quarter?" I got out of bed and walked to the bathroom. "Going to that thing just sounds like a recipe for disaster."

"Sure, you could view it like that, but Klaus won't try anything while we're there."

"And why's that?"

"Because the party's supposed to be a symbol for peace, too. We'll be fine. Plus, I need a date."

I held back a snort. "What, Cami's busy?"

"She's working the bar tonight," he replied. "So you've gotta come with me."

I felt a sigh coming on. For fuck's sake, I just got back. I wasn't expecting this to happen yet.

I was gonna contemplate for a while longer but Marcel didn't give me that time. Instead, he just quickly told me he'd be picking me up at 8 and hung on me, making me gasp.

Son of a bitch.

[heavyhitterheaux]

New Life Partner

First Lady of Private Garden Instagram AU

Liked by dualipa, saweetie, jaysontatum, quiiso, urbanwyatt, y/ninsta, and 2,394,723 others

jackharlow: my man, ty to my man

y/ninsta: thank you to your WHAT?! aight that's it. everybody getting they ass beat and jayson is first druski2funny: oh so, you're cheating on me again? dualipa: y/ninsta you know where to find me saweetie: oh lord here they go again jaysontatum: now y/ninsta..... I had nothing to do with him writing that caption y/ninsta: jaysontatum lies you muthafuckin tell smh jackharlow: y/ninsta now you know how it feels when you leave me to go out with the hot chips and bad decisions crew blancahood: now why am I in it? jessicakelce: we are literally just sitting here minding our own business and then mullet boy over here wants to call us out jackandy/naremyparents: NOT MULLET BOY blancahood: y/ninsta did not let this man live for 24 hours when she saw his hair, the jokes kept coming and then jumped his bones when she was finished jackharlow: y/ninsta and you wonder why I left you and druski2funny I thought we were taking time away from each other? seeing other people? lilnasx: I'm just here waiting with my popcorn to see y/ninsta kick your ass

Liked by jackharlow, blancahood, saweetie, generationnow, brandisimmons, urbanwyatt, and 3,183,996

y/ninsta: full of hot chips and bad decisions 😜

jackharlow: can't take yall asses anywhere smh and wait a damn minute, is that brandisimmons?!? blancahood: I still don't remember half that night smh jessicakelce: blancahood now I see that the both of us have switched places, that's usually me lol brandisimmons: jackharlow maybe, maybe not urbanwyatt: now why wasn't I invited? I like hot chips softtcurse: urbanwyatt and you like bad decisions smh y/ninsta: urbanwyatt idk urby, we got to take a vote and meet with the president which is me. we'll get back to you shortly about our decision jessicakelce: I vote yes because he can tolerate hot food while jackharlow absolutely cannot jackharlow: jessicakelce will you leave me alone for five damn minutes?!?! jessicakelce: jackharlow no. jackharlow: y/ninsta do you remember what happened the last time you wore a short ass skirt out the house? y/ninsta: jackharlow I'm single now so it doesn't matter jackharlow: y/ninsta don't fucking play with me smh y/ninsta: call jayson

Liked by y/ninsta, jaysontatum, urbanwyatt, druski2funny, 2forwoyne, and 3,184,816 others

jackharlow: my baby girl is so gorgeous 😍

y/ninsta: jackharlow don't fucking post me, you cheater. jaysontatum is your baby girl now. a bitch do look gorgeous tho 🥰 jackandy/nupdates: all I need is one night. ONE. jackharlow: jackandy/nupdates you might get to have it if wifey don't stop playing urbandjack25: jackharlow is lucky he got to her first because if I did, he wouldn't have even been thought of y/ninsta: urbandjack25 not too much on my man now! even though we're married but separated, I still claim him druski2funny: well I don't claim him dualipa: drop his ass claybornharlow: little baby is here y/ninsta: clayyyyyyy, the one Harlow that I can count on to never disappoint me jackharlow: Y/N!!!! and dualipa claybornharlow don't start with me today and druski2funny you'll always claim me. I'm the ex that keeps you up at night urbanwyatt: my best friend is prettier than yours 😍 jaysontatum: I mean urbanwyatt she's pretty, but she obviously doesn't compare to me since jackharlow is ready to leave her y/ninsta: jaysontatum your ass got one more muthafuckin time to act out and then I'm bringing you down to my height jaysontatum: y/ninsta how tall are you because you barely come up to jack's knee saweetie: OUTTA POCKET 2forwoyne: not his knee lmaoooooo jackharlow: jaysontatum she's 5 feet on a good day claybornharlow: jackharlow your mouth is always getting you in trouble smh jackharlow: claybornharlow and it always gets me out of trouble too 😏 jessicakelce: I don't see how it took this long for her to get pregnant smh y/ninsta: jaysontatum I'll be on your doorstep at 8 am tomorrow jaysontatum: y/ninsta have fun trying to reach the doorbell urbanwyatt: jaysontatum well, she is little 😭 y/ninsta: urbanwyatt just for that, I made an executive decision, you can't be a part of hot chips and bad decisions. THAT'S FINAL urbanwyatt: y/ninsta wait! I want a redo!

Liked by jackharlow, urbanwyatt, maggieharlow, brandisimmons, theestallion, shloob_, and 1,297,192 others

y/ninsta: since jackharlow is out being a whore, this is who I'm left at home with smh

claybornharlow: my girl autumn 😍 jackharlow: y/ninsta what is she even doing?!? and not you calling me a whore smh y/ninsta: jackharlow idk, she your baby since she look like you so come figure it out smh theestallion: this baby absolutely knows no chill y/ninsta: theestallion she is on 1000 every damn day as soon as she wakes up. she has now learned how to get out of her crib and I wasn't ready for that jackharlow: I definitely woke up to her face smushed up against mine and was confused on how she got in there smh y/ninsta: jackharlow she can now escape out of Harlow baby jail so we have to hire security. claybornharlow you got the job, congratulations. claybornharlow: she is literally always on her best behavior when she's around me maggieharlow: grandma's baby! y/ninsta: maggieharlow well come get her! you wanted these grandkids so bad and now they're here! I need a drink AND a blunt smh saweetie: y/ninsta damn they got you down bad lol maggieharlow: y/ninsta tell her father to come get her jackharlow: and suddenly something came up that needs my immediate attention y/ninsta: JACKMAN THOMAS

Liked by claybornharlow, jackharlow, urbanwyatt, saweetie, sza, normani, generationnow, and 3,240,286 others

y/ninsta: my big baby and my little baby

since jackharlow wants to act like a husband and show me some attention today, I agreed. he just didn't tell me that I would be at the studio with him and a million other people smh

at least I have my little baby who is not so little anymore to keep me company

like a bitch cried when he turned 21

claybornharlow stop fucking growing up on me 😭

jackharlow: yeah, that was something. but you don't pay me any attention smh y/ninsta: jackharlow I cried when he got his license too lmao and you are a got damn lie smh saweetie: y/ninsta you literally cry at everything lmao y/ninsta: look to be fair, I met little baby when he was eleven and now he's a grown man and me no like that. in my eyes he will always be my little baby so look at this as an appreciation post so if one of these little fast ass girls break his heart, there will be hell to pay. mark my words. claybornharlow: y/ninsta we would have been amazing together jackharlow: claybornharlow AHT AHT! get back to work and stop trying to steal my wife for the millionth time claybornharlow: jackharlow your kids love me, your wife loves me, I'm the favorite child, the list goes on and on jackharlow: claybornharlow I will kick you in the throat y/ninsta: yall better get yall shit together before I tell maggie maggieharlow: too late y/ninsta: welp I tried, get your kids. I'm about to send the oldest back to you. maggieharlow: y/ninsta keep him jackharlow: maggieharlow WOW smh

Taglist:

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@fantasywritersstuff

[artiststarme]

Wayne deserves way more credit

Just a little snippet I came up with for an interaction between Wayne and the boys. I hope you guys like it and please leave your thoughts in the comments!

~*~*~*~

Wayne didn’t get paid enough for this shit. It had been a long week and an even longer shift with him pulling doubles while one of his coworkers was off on disability. He just wanted to head to bed after a nice cup of coffee when he got back home. What he didn’t want was to be roped into yet another tedious argument between his nephew and his boyfriend. He was over their ridiculous spats and their meddling in his morning coffee time. Yet, here he was. 

“Wayne, Wayne, tell Eddie you’d adopt me if he broke up with me! I’m becoming a Munson whether you like it or not, you fucker!” Steve shouted, pointing an accusing finger at his nephew. 

“I’m not threatening to break up with you. I’m just saying that I’m not some damsel in distress that you need to protect. You need to stop!” Eddie tried to reason. 

“That’s not what you were saying twenty minutes ago, asshole!” 

“Uncle Wayne, tell him that he needs to stop beating up everyone that looks at me wrong or he’s going to give himself another concussion!” Eddie shouted back. 

Wayne just sipped his coffee. He was only on cup one but this was turning out to be a three cup day. This happened more than he liked but that just meant he had a system in place. He would let the boys rant it out with one another before he ended it. 

“Oh, that’s rich coming from you, Mr. ‘almost eaten to death by demon bats’! If I want to kick someone’s ass for calling you a murderer, I will!” Now, Wayne couldn’t argue with him there. He wasn’t sure what the bat reference meant but if Eddie’s boy wanted to stick up for him, Wayne wasn’t going to stop him. Anyone protecting Eddie got a gold star in his book and Steve Harrington was in first place. 

“You can’t get another concussion! You need all the brain cells you have!” Eddie yelled angrily. 

“Are you calling me stupid? You know how I feel about that, Eddie. What the fuck?! Wayne, defend me!”

Wayne heaved a deep sigh before turning to Eddie. “Eddie, we don’t call people names in this household and you know that.”

“But he-”

“Steve, you need to stop picking fights because Hopper’ll kick my ass if you get another head injury on my watch. If you’re gonna be fighting, give ‘em a sucker punch so they can’t hitcha back.”

“Wayne! Don’t tell my boyfriend to pick fights over me. What the hell?” Eddie sputtered. 

“I’ll tell your boyfriend whatever I want! And he’s right, if you try to break up with him, I will adopt him. He’s getting the Munson name one way or another and if you’re not gonna do it, I will. Now get the hell outta here, I’m going to bed.”

Both boys grumbled but grabbed their things and left regardless. Eddie gave him a short hug in goodbye as he left. Wayne just sighed, another crisis averted. If they kept this up though, he was going to need way more coffee than his daily allowance.

[yuurivoice]

Do you have any sort of dislike toward autistic people?

No??????

This is a wild question, but I'll bite.

I interact with multiple autistic people in my day to day life, and that expands beyond my inner circle of friends and into the broader community as well. As an ADHD haver, we're sorta rubbing elbows here and I wonder what would have turned up had I been tested for autism myself. We spoke about it during my screening and it came up as a "huh, maybe" but we didn't pursue it and it didn't get diagnosed.

In the course of my eight years of doing this whole YuuriVoice thing, I have dealt with a wide variety of internet strangers. Unfortunately this includes people who are purposefully rude, entitled, or some flavor of shitty and I have taken a firm stance when certain attitudes and language smacks me in the face. It has saved me a lot of grief from jerks.

Even more unfortunate is that sometimes there are autistic folks who for no fault of their own might come off that way when dealing with me anonymously, when I have no clue who a person is, what their intentions are, or what tone they are trying to take. So they end up getting bonked when they didn't need to be, and I wouldn't have bonked them in the first place had I known.

As it turns out, when someone is a random anonymous message in a sea of hundreds, I cannot actually decipher who is who or what is what. In any interaction I have had with someone I am familiar with and have even a slight understanding or inkling that they may be autistic, it's a whole different story because I can use my understanding and experience to manage my own expectations and comprehension of the interaction we are having.

It is sort of a strange phenomena because it's not like there's been some sort of sudden spike in autism amongst my audience, that's not how that works. They've been here the whole time. If I had to hypothesize, the latest batch of young adults who've found me might have folks who have not had the same experiences online that us older folks have had that sorta trained us differently. Not to sound like a boomer, but I think most millennials dealing with a variety of cosmic mental gacha rewards could probably attest to this. So we might have a lot of people having new types of interactions in new spaces.

I think on my end, I need to start assuming the best of people's intentions instead of the worst. I had to be hard in the early years, and there were genuinely people who would behave in ways that would bug the shit outta me and it had to be called out and dealt with in the light so people understood the expectation. It could also turn off people, and that was a loss I was willing to accept if it meant people didn't treat me like a content machine to be bent to their will and poked with sticks if their favorite blorbo didn't want to have a damn pet...for example. I swear to you, that exact interaction could happen with someone neurotypical who just wanted to kick my shins and give me a hard time because they didn't like the way I was writing my character. We've seen it happen plenty over the years, I've lived it, it's a thing.

So no, I have no issue with autistic folks. I cannot immediately diagnose someone based of the flavor of their text and assume the nature of their intentions. Through years of being an online person, I've been conditioned to be on the lookout for certain flags and unfortunately there are times where a completely innocent person ends up bumping into a guardrail.

Much like how I cannot control how people react and behave, I would caution against expecting me to not also react and behave in my own ways. I'm a person who struggles with my own shit too, and have had to manage it and purposefully adapt to my situation.

My little comfort characters I cooked up for my own delight ended up getting popular, and at any given moment they're loved, hated, slandered, adored, hyperfixated upon, not good enough, the best thing ever, absolute abominations, or just ALMOST okay but I didn't do it exactly how they would have done it. It's obviously a wonderful thing, that's the dream, people give a fuck about my work! But the downside is, that shit has my head in a blender constantly and is why I try to step back from wading into the deeper waters of the community, because I'm managing my own shit and trying not to make it everyone else's problem.

When things land in my inbox, anonymously, it's a big ol soup of everyone who could at any point be either my biggest hater, biggest fan, or just a troll who wants to piss in my cheerios.

So again, I will endeavor to try and assume the best intentions instead of the worst, and when in doubt I can just...STFU and not respond. It's that easy, so I should probably keep that in mind.

Hopefully that helps explain some of what's up in that regard, and certainly if anyone has felt like they've burdened me or been a nuisance, they should know that I understand and immediately recatagorize that interaction in my brain. So for example, the Finn Pet thing, I responded by stating that I was uncomfortable and understood and accepted that they did not have ill intentions. I'm not going to pretend I liked the question or the tone, but I respect that it was not coming from a place of trying to give me a hard time and I don't hold it against them. I like to think that is how moments of unintentional friction should be handled among adults. Apologies do not suddenly make things okay or undo your discomfort, but there is an understanding of the intent and an acceptance. I don't want to infantalize people, if I said "awww it's okay you're not dumb here let me indulge your headcanon" that not only sends the wrong message about how to respond to people who self depricate in response to negative reactions, but...no, I'm not just going to double back and treat the question differently.

Alright, I gave this a whole lotta energy and genuine care. I hope it is taken as such and we're all square.

[fandomzwriterk]

We need a continuation to f.r.i.e.n.d.s, I honesty don't know what is going to happen next, this fic was so good

A/N: you ask and I shall provide! Aw shit, here I go again!! Also I was playing Cult of the Lamb when I was writing this so it got a little dark😱😨

Warnings: sorta non-consenty, Remy sorta watching, Hostage Reader and Remy, sorta NSFW under cut, cursing, MDNI

F.R.I.E.N.D.S pt2

“Come on Y/n we have to hide somewhere!”

“Where?!”

“Here!”

It was the warehouse from where they rescued Roberto months ago from those cruel Liberators. You had wanted to kill them yourself, but Scott stopped you. Death was too easy of a punishment for them. So, they were thrown in jail, the Sentinels scrapped and the building being closed for repairs. You both remembered a window that could be opened up on the roof, so Remy lead the way up the side of the building, walking and carefully climbing over boxes.

“Shh. Right here.”

Remy crouched, walking quietly through the window and up into the walkway above. He moved his arm past you, holding up the window as you crawled through. He could’ve easily gone first, but he needed to make sure that you weren’t in view from outside in case Scott was somewhere near you two.

“Brings back good memories eh?”

“Remy now is not the time.”

“Cherié I’m just trying to calm you down.”

“Sorry.”

You bit your tongue, knowing the last couple of months have been confusing for everyone. You fooled Remy into thinking you were in love with Scott, and Scott did the same to Jean. For Scott, it was real though. What was he to you now? An ex? A friend? A… murderer? No. It wasn’t possible Scott wouldn’t… would he?

“I know you’re in here! Come on out Remy let’s settle this like men!” Scott taunted as he rammed down the wall

Remy put a finger to his lips, telling you be quiet so you both wouldn’t be heard. He slowly stood up, but you grabbed onto his arm, making him stop. He kissed your cheek, staring into your eyes as he turned to slowly and carefully walked down the stairs. If you stopped him it would just delay the inevitable, that Scott was going to kill Remy and take you from him.

“Up ‘ere fucker!” Remy shouted as he flung a playing card at Scott’s head while Scott walked into the center of the room

“God I’ve always wanted to beat the shit outta you and your ego.” Scott retorted back as he dodged it

“And I’ve always wanted to put you in your place for hurting my friends.”

Remy and Scott swung fists at each other, Remy dodging to making sure that Scott wouldn’t see you. You noticed his eyes went up to you, him giving a wink to you as a way to tell you to run.

“I know she’s here Gambit.”

Scott was quicker by just a second, grabbing Remy’s throat and slamming him down in the concrete. Remy still clung onto his rage and urge to protect you, desperately trying to take a swing at Scott’s head with his staff. You could see Scott’s grip was iron tight, almost crushing Remy’s throat with his own hands. And that was it, Remy’s eyes glancing to you as Scott did it one more time, as you watched Remy go unconscious in front of you. You hope he is unconscious and not dead.

“Come on out Y/n in know you’re here darling.”

You put a hand over your mouth, seeing Scott drag Remy over to a concrete pillar, leaving him there as he went to look for something. You debated on going to save him, but doing that would destroy the sacrifice Remy made to get you to run away unharmed. You watched as Scott came back, dragging a half ruined chair to Remy, picking him up and sitting him on it. Remy’s hand were tied behind him, and you watched as Scott pulled out a Liberators Mutant Collar and put it around Remy’s neck.

“Come on out Y/n~ Come on out and I’ll let Remy live. I’ll even consider leaving you two alone as an agreement.”

You felt your skin crawl, the hair on the back of your neck rising as you watched Scott kick Remy’s chair over and start to push his foot down on Remy’s neck. You stood up slowly, raising your hands in the air as a surrender. You were not going to let Remy die for your sake. You walked down the metal stairs, making Scott turn his head to face you. His evil smile widened as you walked slowly up to him.

“Let him go.”

“Y/n don’t do it cherié. Don’t ‘cha let him take you!”

Scott kicked Remy, making Remy groan in pain while Scott had a cruel smile on his face.

“Now… come here my darling~”

He stretched a hand out to you, waiting for you to grab it. There was a small hesitance, slowly moving it to grab it. You stopped when your finger tips touched. Your face fell, and Scott didn’t like that. So, he grabbed you, put an arm around your neck and having a hand covering your mouth. You tried to scratch at his arm, but Scott was faster, his grip on your arm almost crushing it with his hand.

“You son of a bitch when I get out…”

“And you won’t. I made sure of that.”

Scott pulled you backwards, your heels dragging on the floor while Remy struggled in his chair. Scott stopped once he had you moved a few feet away from Remy, making him face towards you two.

“You are so dead Scott. I’m gonna make sure you suffer for this.”

You could see out of the corner of your eye, Scott’s eyes glaring and staring at Remy. Then, his attention went to you.

“And now my darling… why don’t I show him who you really belong to.”

Scott’s other hand traced your thigh, slowly going up and tracing your hip, your chest, and then ending with it moving towards your ass. You clawed against Scott’s skin, but he was so much stronger than you. Remy wasn’t happy either. He was pissed and wanted to save you.

“So beautiful darling~”

His hand went back up, reaching your chest. His big hands started squeezing and playing with your breast. You screamed into Scott’s hand, his grip getting harder with each scream and kick against him.

“I don’t want to hurt you but if you don’t listen…”

“I swear to god Cyclops I’m going to fucking kill you myself.”

“Try me mother fucker.”

You were scared, Scott touching you in places even when you were fake dating you wouldn’t let him touch. Hell you never even kissed the man. Only just a hand on the thigh or hand holding. Where did it all go wrong?

“You son of a bitch!” You heard being shouted from above

Logan and Morph came crashing through the roof while Jean flew through a broken window. Scott gripped you like his life depended on it.

“I’m going to kill each and every one of you if you get in my way.”

Jean slowly flew down to the ground. She now knew this wasn’t the real Scott.

“Scott please let them go. They’ve done nothing wrong.” Jean begged

Scott’s other hand was still over your mouth, now his free hand moving up to his glasses.

“Run!” Remy shouted

And just like that, the building came crashing down.

A/N: hope you enjoyed!