#which is the way it feels like it's going

[lymtw]

Toji invites you over with a simple text of:

You busy tonight, doll?

To which you respond:

I don't think so... Not that I know of. Why?

Toji laughs through his nose when he reads your message. Even the way you text him has your timidness imbued into it. It's precious.

Come spend the night at my place. You told me you're off tomorrow, right?

I am, but are you sure? Driving home is not a problem for me. I can hang out and go home after.

You're staying. I wanna try something with you and it requires you to stay the night. You can't go home.

Oh okay! I'll be there in 10.

Drive safe.

Toji likes that you're very precise about the time you'll be arriving somewhere, and if you're ever late when it comes to spending time with him, you apologize profusely, nonstop. You won't stop blubbering about why you're late and how sorry you are for making him wait, even after Toji's expressed that he's more than understanding. He's the king of showing up late to plans, so he can't be a hypocrite and scold you when you don't do it often at all.

You're so sorry, though, and you don't shut up about it until he makes you shut up with a kiss. You're helpless, and you can't for the life of you figure out where to put your hands when you're so focused on the grip he had on your waist to pull you up against him.

He releases your lips, cracking a grin at the look of wonder on your face. He can't deny the pride that swells in his chest at his ability to disarm you and prevent you from having a total meltdown over a three minute delay.

Toji has gotten so much better at handling situations like these with you. It's only fair for him to gain satisfaction out of making you feel better. After all, you are a first for him. You're emotionally fragile, you're a nervous wreck, and your voice competes with the wind just to be heard. Toji doesn't set aside the fact that you're also beautiful, warmhearted, and you try for him. He sees your attempts to be affectionate. You'll slowly reach your hand out to hold his and then bail the second he catches you. He ends up having to interlock his fingers with yours because your embarrassment doesn't allow you to try again. He still appreciates that you leave your comfort zone for him and allow him to guide you towards new experiences.

"Stop with the guilty feelings, ma. We have all night and all day tomorrow. What's a couple minutes to ensure you get to me in one piece?" He says, comforting your droopy self. You look like a sad, abandoned puppy, now sporting rosy cheeks from his surprising gesture.

"Okay," you say, feeling a little more at ease. "What did you have in mind for tonight?"

"Follow me," he says, leading you through his living room to his kitchen. He pulls out a stool for you and points at it. "Sit." You want to laugh at the way he says it like he's teaching commands to a dog, but you know he doesn't mean it that way, so you obediently sit down like one anyway.

"Have you eaten anything?" He asks, silently hoping you have because he doesn't have anything to make you dinner. He would have to order in or pick something up.

"I ate a couple hours ago. Still pretty full," you respond, watching him reach up for something in his cabinets. There's now a tall glass bottle with a red label and matching cap sitting on the counter.

"How 'bout it?" He says, a large hand wrapped around the neck of the bottle. "We could go to the couch and watch a movie or something."

He's never seen you under the influence of anything, but based on your reaction, maybe he'll get a show tonight. He's always wanted to know what you would be like if you were more extroverted and outspoken. There's nothing wrong with the way you are, but if things keep going the way they're going between you and Toji, he's bound to meet your chatty alter ego at some point in the future. What better way to have this experience than in a secure place with someone who can handle their alcohol and take care of you if it turns out that you can't.

"Okay, sure." You giggle, excitedly.

You're a lightweight. Even the fruitiest, sweetest alcoholic beverage will quickly take a toll on you while you're sipping on it. Wine is a step up, so you'll have to try your best to keep it together for the sake of not looking sloppy in front of Toji.

Toji brings down two glasses, and pours out the deep red liquid into them. One for you, one for him. He hands the glass to you, and nods at your quiet "thank you".

Toji watches as you immediately take a sip. He sees the way your nose scrunches at what you consider to be a funny taste, but the second you put the glass down, you smile like nothing. You don't like it at all. You hate the bitterness, and the fact that it's made with fermented grapes lives in the back of your head.

"How is it?" He asks, holding back a chuckle. You're too sweet for your own good, pretending to enjoy this for him.

"I like it," you say, pressing your lips together.

"Yeah? I think it's kinda gross. Guess I was expecting more from a fancy ass bottle, but brands are gonna brand, huh?"

You giggle, almost involuntarily. You're one gulp in, and already you're starting to feel the effects.

One of your worst habits includes chugging drinks that don't taste good, just so you can get them over with. You even do this when your drink is messed up at coffee shop. You're too nice to ask the barista to remake it, so you suck it up and drink the incorrect beverage solely for the caffeine you hope it has in it. This time is no different. You hate the taste of alcohol. You don't do plain shots, you can't stand hard ciders, and wine is no exception, but you're doing this for Toji. He cracked open the bottle to share with you, so you're going to drink every ounce of the liquid in the glass, whether you like the taste or not.

You bring the glass to your lips again, taking a much larger sip. The glass is a little less than halfway now, and your eyelids are starting to feel a little heavy. Not in a sleepy manner, but you can't seem to hold your eyes open as wide anymore.

You exhale through your nose, shut your eyes, and then blink them back open to take note of your altered state.

"That was a lot. How are you feeling?" Toji asks, noticing a shift in your demeanor. You seem a little more sluggish now. You turn your attention to him, your eyes rolling when they turn to meet his.

"I'm good, how are you?" You ask, like it was the start of a conversation rather than an ongoing one. Your eyes almost shut completely when you smile at him.

"You're tipsy already, aren't you?" He asks, with a grin on his face.

"Pshh, what? No, i'm not," you say, contradicting yourself with a giggle. "Answer the question, baby. How are you?"

"Fine," he responds, lingering on the pet name. You've got loose lips, now. In any other circumstance, you would address him by his name. Most of the time Toji is the one giving you pet names, for the sake of flustering you. He loves the way you look at him when he calls you doll or sweetheart, somewhat shocked every time the words leave his mouth.

"Yeah? That's good." You pick up the glass one more time, sighing before you mutter, "'scuse me. Gotta finish this."

With that last sip, the glass was now empty. Even Toji thinks you drank that too fast, but he still has the courtesy to ask you if you want more.

"Mhm, I'll have a little bit more. Just a tiny bit." Toji pours as much as he did the first time, chuckling when you nod in approval of the quantity. "That's perfect. Absolutely, perfect. You're a genius, my love." You flash him a smile before starting on the next glass.

Toji was considering having another glass, but that was before you called him "my love" in a tone so warm that he felt like he just had a bowl of hot soup that was now settling in his stomach. That was before you smiled at him in such a free spirited manner. It was too late for him to see you in this state while completely sober, but he sure as hell wouldn't be adding anymore alcohol to his system. He can't miss something like this, so instead he leans forward on the counter, and intently watches your every move.

"I got something on my face?" You ask, dragging your sleeves all over your face. You examine your sleeves and they're clean. "You liar. You're looking at me like that for nothing." You squint at him, a slight scrunch in your nose to define your defensiveness.

Toji laughs, his focus now on the small pinch in your brows. "Don't go picking fights over nothing. It's not a crime to look at my pretty baby."

Your faux tough exterior immediately crumbles, the irked expression on your face dropping to the ground, at the sugary words he uses on you. Your face feels very warm, and now there's an indefinite blush on it. You can't stop smiling at the look on Toji's face. He's so focused that he's gone speechless, and you eventually break into a laughing fit because of it.

"Hey... i'm usually the quiet one. Why aren't you talking, pretty boy? Need me to shut up?"

The pet name has Toji glancing at your glass, noticing that it was full for less than five minutes. This was new— you being flirtatious towards him. He didn't have any complaints about it whatsoever.

Once again, the quantity of the wine in your glass was below the halfway mark. "Nah, baby. Talk to me. You must really like the wine, huh?"

"Mmm..." you lean forward towards him, with your elbow on the counter and your chin in your palm. "What makes you say that?"

He actually snickers this time, earning a sly grin from you. "You're chugging it like it's water. It's either you love it or it tastes like ass and you're dying to spit it out."

You pick up the glass again, one last time. "Let's find out if I like it," you say as if you're not on your second serving. You let the liquid hit your tongue, and you are instantly repulsed by the flavor. The glass is tilted all the way up, signaling that you've finished two cups of wine in less than fifteen minutes. Your cheeks are filled with the drink, blown up like a puffer fish, which makes Toji smile softly with anticipation for your reaction. Your tongue stays on the roof of your mouth, keeping the wine in your cheeks separate, to give you a break for a few seconds. You release the bubbles of your cheeks and your mouth is flooded with the bittersweet liquid. You swallow the burgundy mouthful and smile with your lips pressed together once it's all gone. The mouth drying effect of wine is your least favorite thing about it.

"So?" Toji prompts.

"It's-" you gag, clasping a hand over your mouth with wide, slightly teary eyes.

Toji's chest and shoulders shake as he contains his laughter, his lips pressed together tightly to stifle the smile threatening to show itself, but his eyes tell you everything.

"Wooo, sorry about that," you say, chuckling through the embarrassment. "It's good," you repeat, still muffled by your palm.

"Yeah? Want more?" Toji asks, holding up the bottle with a teasing grin on his face.

You almost gag again but manage to control yourself. "No, thank you. Any more and I'll doze off, and we both know that's not what i'm here for." There was a hint of sultriness in your tone, something Toji was not sufficiently familiar with. It was a completely welcome shift from your normally tentative way of speaking to him.

"I know why you're here, but I wanna know what you think you're here for."

You stand from your stool and lean more of your body onto the counter. Your hand reaches for his, and for the first time, you don't pull back before making contact with his skin. "To love on you, of course," you say, with those pretty rosy cheeks. Your eyes remained glossy and your nose was still red from trying not to bring the wine back up earlier, but Toji thought you looked so cute.

"Is that right?" His thumb brushes over your knuckles, feeling the softness against his rough fingertip.

"Let's go watch that movie you were talking about and you'll see what I mean."

Toji was loving this. Your confidence, your lack of holding back anything you had to say, it was truly baffling how you could be someone else entirely with just a couple glasses of wine.

You keep his hand in yours, and as if it were your house, you say, "come on," and drag him along to the living room.

This time you say "sit" and point at the couch. This time he's the obedient dog and does as you say, sitting on the exact cushion you were pointing at with a smirk on his face. He moves the couch pillow aside to make room for you, but you had another seat in mind. You take two steps towards him before slowly dropping yourself into his lap, straddling him.

"I see you're finally taking your seat on the throne, hm?" He grins, resting his hands on your waist. This is the closest Toji's been allowed to watch you giggle without you burying your face into his neck and it's a trip. He can see the details of the creases around your eyes and the lift in your cheeks as you smile. He feels fuzzy, and he didn't even finish his glass of wine, so he knows it's not that.

"Stop making me laugh and pick a movie, will you? I'm here for that, too."

He picks up the remote for the TV and turns it on. "How are you gonna watch the movie while facing me?"

"Actually,.. can I tell you a secret, baby?" You ask, wrapping your arms around his neck. Your fingers play with the hair that reaches towards the nape of his neck, combing through it gently.

"What's that, princess?" Toji asks, vert eyes flitting between your eyes and that sweet smile of yours.

"I don't wanna watch a movie. I... wanna look at you... and that's it." Your nails gently scratch the back of his head, eliciting a tingly sensation that makes chills run down his spine.

"That's cool, too," Toji says, turning the TV off again, not caring that it was on for less than a minute before you changed your mind. He sighs, adjusting his position beneath you. Your thighs are secured around his hips, your knees touching the backrest of the couch.

"You're so handsome, my baby. God, look at those eyes," you whisper in awe, before giggling and bringing your hands to his face. You trace the bags under his eyes with your thumbs while admiring the haunting shade of green that scopes on you. Toji's hand comes up to loosely wrap around your wrist. He's not there to stop you, he just wants to move along with you as you observe his face.

"I know I don't say this to you enough, but I find you..." you sigh, blinking slowly, "enchanting..." You lean in and kiss the left corner of his lips—his right, and feel the smooth, tattered skin beneath your warm lips. "and I love you," you mumble into the cicatrix. "So fucking much, baby. And i'm sorry that you'll never know exactly how much because you aren't me." You're looking at him with so much adoration and touching him with a delicacy that can't be put into words. It's a deadly combination, one that has Toji in a chokehold and forces him to soften up even more for you.

He tightens the hold he has on your waist, pulling you closer until your stomach is pressed to his, as a result. You being so affectionate towards him is making him feel really good, and you have no idea because you're too focused on appreciating him. He's subconsciously leaning into your touch, his softened gaze meeting your lovestruck one.

"Fuck. I love you, too, princess," he murmurs, squeezing your wrist in his hand. He pulls your hand down to his chest. "Want you to aim for my lips, this time."

"Okay," you say, smiling before closing the distance between your lips and Toji's. He can still taste the remnants of the wine you inhaled minutes ago, but it tastes much better and a lot sweeter on you. Toji can hear your high pitched little hums as you kiss him, happiness pouring into your kisses. You're trying so hard not to laugh in his face, and trying is the best you can do, right now. You never were good at hiding your smile from Toji. He can't see it, but he can feel the way your lips widen, and he's occasionally kissing your teeth when your sluggishness keeps you from matching his pace. With little pants leaving you, you drag your lips away.

He sighs, frustrated by the loss of your softness against him. "Baby..." he groans, the sound almost whine-like to your ears. He wants more, so much more of you, and you're ignoring him. You're too busy kissing his chin, and his cheeks, and the tip of his nose.

You drag your other hand down to his chest and keep your hands splayed out on it as you let your lips trail his jaw, lightly sucking on the skin. Toji can't help but think about how this version of you will be gone in the morning. You won't be as outwardly affectionate, you'll go back to second guessing every move you make with him and shrinking every time he steals kisses from you, instead of confidently kissing him back like you did a minute ago.

You make your way down his neck, pressing kiss after kiss on him before you move towards his ear. "I love you, Toji," you whisper, kissing the shell of his ear after. "Love you, love you, love you soooo much," you barrage, before throwing him off with a bite to his earlobe. You giggle like a menace into his ear, the warmth of your breath luring goosebumps out onto his skin.

He chuckles, repeatedly squeezing the soft skin of your waist between his hands. "Yeah? Tell me again," he murmurs snaking his hands beneath the back of your shirt. Your skin is very warm, and there's nothing to blame but Toji and that shitty wine for making your body react this way.

With uninterrupted hands, you course your fingers through his hair and lean in to bite him again, this time on his neck. Toji chuckles at how you instantly rush to soothe him with your tongue and a warm kiss, even when you inflicted zero pain on him.

"I love you, Toji," you repeat into the wet indentations you left behind. "My love... my handsome man... I cherish you, you know?"

Toji is practically purring at all the affection you're showering him with. The slurring of your words is blocked out and they remain clear as day to him. He manages to hum a deep little "mhm" to your last statement.

"It's just so hard to talk to you sometimes. You... you're so intimidating, sometimes. I don't expect you to understand..." you divert your gaze to his shoulder, not able to look him in the eyes as vulnerability takes sudden control of your emotions. "It seems like I don't appreciate you sometimes—all the time, but I do, Toji. I do appreciate you, and I can't ever say I love you enough to show it. Words aren't always enough."

Toji catches the waver in your voice and his eyes dart to yours. You're tearing up, and you're trying to still your quivering lips by pressing them together.

"Shit," Toji mutters under his breath. You have the saddest expression he's ever seen and it's messing with his heart. He pulls his hands out of your shirt so that he can swiftly pull you into his warm embrace. "Hey," he coos. You're shaking against him, holding your breath to avoid sobbing. Your lungs burn, but you'd rather feel that than make a scene of your tears. "Don't be sad, mama. What's with the tears, hm?" he murmurs. He can feel your tears dampening his shoulder, but the fact that you haven't made a sound is concerning. "Breathe or you'll die," he says, only half joking. He rubs a soothing palm against your back, his other arm around your waist.

You let out what sounds like a mixture between a choked laugh and a sob, slowly but surely regulating your breathing. You don't even feel like saying anything anymore because you know your voice will give way to even more pity.

"You're more than enough for me," Toji says, his chin resting on your head. "I know how you feel, you know how I feel. We're complete." He can feel the way you scrunch his shirt up into your fists. As if he would go anywhere without you. "I get you and you're stuck with me. Got it?" You silently nod against his shoulder in response. "Sit up and let me look at you."

You really don't want him to see you this way. Your eyes feel swollen and you don't feel presentable.

"I can't..." you say, barely audible. You release his shirt and let your hands go limp behind him.

"Why not?"

"I'm not pretty right now. Don't look at me."

"I'm gonna look at you," he challenges with a teasing grin.

"Toji, don't look at me."

"Too late, it's happening. Plan's already in motion," he says, sliding his arms onto your shoulders.

"Toji, don't-" He effortlessly pushes you off his shoulder and gives you a once over. You look defeated and you're unable to look him in the eyes, but at least he can see you now.

"Don't know what you were so worried about. You look the same but more blush-y." You finally give him your slightly reddened eyes, a soft smile appearing on your face. You look like your sober self. "Yeah, you look the same."

"Are you lying?" You ask, still not regaining the full strength of your voice yet.

"I wouldn't tell you if I was, but no, i'm not lying. You're so pretty." Toji wiped away tears that were stuck beneath your eyes, and you giggled. He washed away your sadness within a couple minutes. Toji always did this for you in exchange for your love and affection. He lifted your spirits when you didn't feel deserving of him, and with time, he got much better at recognizing the signs that came with this ridiculous idea you planted in your head.

"You're done loving on me? Already?" He asks in playful disbelief.

"You're not done with me? Do you actually want more?" You ask, hesitantly.

"Don't want more, I need more," he corrects, returning his hands to their rightful place on your waist. "Get all up on me, princess."

You giggle, leaning closer towards him to peck a kiss onto his cheek.

"Mhm, like that," he says, contently, when you pick up the pace and start smothering him. "Yeah, baby, there you go." His forearms go beneath your shirt, encircling around your bare waist and pulling you close to him like before. "Who's getting spoiled like me?" He says through a grin. You're holding back laughs as he continues to praise you for your affection.

"S-Stop," you say through a wheeze, not able to contain the sound any longer when you looked at him.

"What are you laughing at, huh?" He chases you this time, pressing his nose into your cheek before planting a light kiss into your jaw.

"You're so unserious," you say, turning your head as he keeps going with the kisses.

"Mmm... I'm serious about you," he says, feeling the vibration of your laughter against his grin. "So serious."

Your cheeks feel incredibly hot from how much you've been smiling. In this little drunken haze, things are so good. You're so happy, you're so affectionate, and you talk so much. This isn't like you at all, but it's not hurting anyone, especially not Toji. There was one minor slip, but you moved past it so quickly like the words never left your head to begin with. You're just so simple... so easy to take care of.

Toji notices the way your eyes are starting to lid with tiredness, and while he would love for you to doze off in his arms right then and there, you'd probably prefer waking up in a bed.

"Let's go to bed, yeah?" He suggests.

"What? No! I just got here... We can still talk, and kiss and- I'm not even tired."

Toji grins at the way you fight him on this, and he has half a mind to indulge you when you look so adorable, but he has to stand his ground. He's right.

"But, you are. You can't even hold your eyes open, anymore."

You feel sad again because the rest of the night would be going to waste if you both go to sleep early. You're there to spend time with Toji, and yet you feel like it's your fault your time is being cut short. You're thinking you shouldn't have drank the wine so quickly, if at all.

"Listen, doll," Toji says. He doesn't like the sadness that resurfaces on your pretty face. He doesn't think you should look that way because of him. "We're just gonna go lay in bed. We don't have to go to sleep. We can stay up as long as you want. Light on or light off, whatever you wanna do, let's just move it to the room."

You sigh, still not completely convinced that the night isn't over, but Toji managed to persuade you. "Will you carry me, please? My legs feel like jelly."

"Of course. What kind of person would I be if I let you stumble into the room on your own?"

You sigh, wrapping your arms around his neck and your legs around his waist, your face buried into the crook of his neck. "You'd still be my favorite person, but i'd be a little upset..."

Toji stands from the couch, humming in response to your quiet mumbles.

"...but not really upset. Just a little bummed. Not for too long, though, 'cause I love you, but I would expect an apology from you if I fell down," you draw out.

Toji cracks at your little ramblings. It's a ten second walk from the couch to the bedroom, and the whole time you were working through a hypothetical conflict.

"Yeah? You'd want me to say sorry?" He asks, setting you down on the bed.

"Mhm, and then I wouldn't be upset or bummed anymore," you mutter to yourself as you roll onto your back.

"That's fair. Want the light on or off?"

"Off," you blurt. "Let's tell scary stories," you trill, enthusiastically. You pull the blanket over your lower body until it reaches just below your chest.

Toji makes his way to the bed after turning off the light. He takes his shirt off, and out of habit lets it fall to the floor. "We're not telling scary stories this late at night," he says, joining you beneath the blanket.

"But, they're funny," you say, turning to face him. "I don't get scared, either."

"Depends on who's telling the story. I'm sure as hell not gonna feed you a nightmare, doll."

"Boo," you say, lowly. "Whatever, i'm over it already," you mutter, rolling your eyes.

Toji watches you grow more and more tired as you throw random, nonsensical topics at him. You're taking longer to respond by the minute, and you're dozing off while humming in thought. You shake awake each time it happens and try to keep the conversation going, but Toji just shushes you and tells you to go back to sleep.

"I can see the moon through the window," you mumble, looking past him.

"I know, shh..." he hushes you, again.

"There's only like... one star," you whisper, in awe.

"Baby, come here," Toji says, like he's about to lecture you about the rules of sleep, but really he's just thinking that if his body heat doesn't put you down, he's gonna have to stay up with you until you fall asleep on your own.

You scoot closer towards Toji, tucking your arms into your chest when he reaches out to pull you into him the rest of the way. His body exudes so much warmth, you feel like you don't need the blanket at all.

There was nothing left for you to say when you couldn't see or feel anything but him. It was as if you were gone the second he enveloped you in his arms. You were small to the brink of nonexistence, no longer there to tell him what your surroundings were, or to ask him thoughtless, silly questions. You were no longer there to fight off the sleep he only seemed to bring closer towards you. Feeling his warm skin against you made you change your mind about this invisible fiend that was pulling your eyelids down. You now welcomed the calls to rest from your steady heartbeats.

Your silence gave him the answer he needed, but for good measure, he poked at you with a whisper of, "Ma?" and waited a few seconds for your response. Nothing. He sighed and coiled around you tighter. Thoughts of the night ran through his head. Your soft, yet, occasionally bruising kisses and the imprints of your teeth on his skin, your unapologetic laughter, your certainty in using the pet names that claimed him as yours. He was weak for the amount of times you openly told him you loved him. It was a psychedelic dream, to say the least. One he hoped would continue once he followed you into slumber.

You woke up hours later, completely smothered by your bear of a man. All you could do was stare up at the ceiling, while you waited for Toji to wake up because he was literally breathing down your neck. His arm rested over your chest, his legs were tangled with yours, and his face was right beside your face. You weren't feeling the effects of the wine anymore, and luckily, you didn't have a headache or any signs of a hangover. You were back, which meant...

"What are you staring at?" A deep, raspy voice jolts you out of your thoughts.

You look at the handsome face next to you, and as if your heart can hear and see, it wakes up. "Nothing. Just woke up," you lie.

"Mm... you were staring hard at the roof. I thought it came to life or something," Toji chuckles. You smile, briefly, before looking at the ceiling again.

Toji releases you and flips onto his back, wanting to know what's so fascinating about the space you're looking at. "What are you thinking?" He asks, when he discovers nothing but blank space.

You take your time, not wanting to stumble over your words. Your heart skips a beat when he turns his head to look at you. In the time it takes for you to respond, you both could have gone back to sleep again.

"A penny for your thoughts?" he finally says, following the idiom with a question. "Did I even use that correctly?"

You can't help but laugh, nodding your head to answer his question. "I'm thinking about last night. Sorry if I said anything stupid."

Toji turns his body towards you again, thinking the only thing that's stupid is that he's still staring at the roof instead of staring at you. "You didn't. You were calm, from what I got to see, at least."

"So... boring."

"Not boring," he instantly catches. "You were perfect. You didn't have me running around chasing you, you weren't a brat—it couldn't have gone better, ma." He purposely missed something in his less than brief recount of the night to you. He can think back to the emotions that seeped through your little daze, and your insecurity about outwardly showing him love, all he wants, but there's no way in hell he's bringing that up to you, now. "You ramble a lot," he adds, a soft smile emerging on his face.

You can feel your cheeks warming up. "Oh god," you groan in embarrassment. "That's not- Sorry, that sounds... not so fun. Annoying of me, actually."

"Stop, it was cute," he assures, adding more fury to the blush creeping on your face. "Then you wouldn't go to sleep 'cause you kept seeing stuff outside the window."

You wanted to drown yourself in the blanket. Shame and embarrassment were winning their battle against you, as always.

"That was also cute," he says, watching the way your lips twitch as you bite back a smile. "You know my favorite part, though?" He says, grinning as he leans towards your ear.

"N-No, what?" You ask, trying so hard not to giggle.

"When you kissed me and told me you loved me," he murmurs into your ear like it's a dirty secret.

You snicker, the short sound of amusement evolving into laughter within seconds. You throw the blanket over your face and partially over Toji's face. The sight of your veiled body shaking with laughter lured out a couple chuckles of his own.

"That's funny?" He asks, pulling the blanket down, allowing you to see the sly grin he's sporting.

"A little bit," you respond, smiling— a remainder of your laughter.

"Silly girl. Come here," he says, dragging you back into his arms. There's no reason you should be awake at six in the morning on your day off. "Let's go back to sleep," he murmurs into the crown of your head. "We can go out for breakfast, later."

"Okay," you mumble, eyes shut already as you embrace the natural warmth of his body.

"One more thing," he murmurs. You don't raise your gaze, but your ears are open and you're listening closely. "Tell me you love me."

You didn't expect that, but you weren't going to deny him of such a simple thing. The words were easy to recite because you meant them with every fiber of your being. "I love you, Toji," you comply, immediately.

He sighs, contently, almost like hearing those words revitalized him. "Love you, too, mama."

That went out to every version of you.

[maxwellatoms]

In one of your last answers, you said “series reboots are usually pretty gross and sad”, and I was wondering if you could expand on that? Assuming “reboot” covers any kind of continuation of a currently cancelled or finished show (and maybe that’s the wrong assumption!), from the outside looking in it feels like a pretty mixed bag. On one hand, if I love XYZ Show, it’s cool that I get more stories with these characters and another chance to support XYZ Show and its creators. On the other, it definitely feels like a lot of ideas can only get funding if they’re tied to something already, meaning creatives are having to now tie whatever cool idea they have to some reboot/relaunch/retread, which can feel pretty disheartening if you don’t want to do a reboot/relaunch/retread. Is that a similar feeling from your side of the industry?

Thank you so much for all your answers and insight!

Usually reboots and spin-offs are just cash grabs. It happens a lot in animation. In fact, I would argue that the entire industry is just one big cash grab now. In the 80s, everyone complained that cartoons were just half-hour commercials for toys. And they were right. And we're right back there, but now that you can't legally push toys all day, it's just general "IP". Mugs, posters, more spinoffs, whatever.

I was offered three show running gigs over the pandemic. All reboots that I would consider unwise to pursue because they were "of a different time" and didn't (in my opinion) have anything more to say. Two of them were properties created by notorious sex pests, so there's also that. The animation industry loves to prop up its sex pests.

I turned all of them down, partially because I didn't respect the original creators but also because none of them had anything going for them except just being "more of the same".

I don't think any of those projects survived the intervening years, so in retrospect I maybe should've taken the job. I'd probably feel a bit gross, but at least I'd have floors in my house.

The entertainment industry is in a bad spot. The whole thing. I've had I don't know how many pitch meetings in the last few years, and they all start the same way:

"Hey! Before we start, we just want to let you know that we're not actively producing anything right now. We think maybe soon, but we won't be picking anything up today..."

And then later:

"The little we are doing is IP, so if you have a new take on our IP or a new IP you're connected to that you can bring in, that'd be great."

I always wanted to make original stuff. There came a time when I'd had my fill of Billy & Mandy and wanted to do something else new and original. That never manifested, and I was constantly being offered IP to produce. I turned too many of those down, maybe, before deciding that it was probably better that I run the IPs that mean something to me rather than having some hack do it.

But now those jobs have all gone to celebrities and fallen live-action writers, who are also slowly being eaten by the system. WB was hot for Scooby stuff a few years back, so I pitched some ideas. A few of them were turned down for being "off-brand" in a variety of ways. WB has now made (I think) all of those off-brand shows (or something close) with celebrity show runners.

I was going through a whole Midlife Impostor Syndrome thing recently where I was wondering if maybe I don't just suck. Like, it's weird that for a couple of decades I'd have people calling me trying to get me to run shows, and now nobody will call me back about the possibility of a design job.

Talking to some friends and realizing that they were in a similar situation helped me feel like I wasn't alone. That was nice. Talking to some of the most talented colleagues in my industry made me made me realize that those people weren't getting jobs either. That was unnerving. Talking to complete strangers in other parts of the entertainment industry now has me thinking that the whole house of cards is coming down. That's real concerning, yo.

It's hard not to think it's purposeful, when deranged billionaires own the entirety of our media and want to shape a society where they can't be criticized. We're letting wealthy tech bros firebomb the very heart of our culture, and it's weird that no one is talking about it. Because (for now) we still have that capability.

[luveline]

coworker!james and readers first kiss pretty pretty please? with cherry on top? i love these pining idiots in love so much!

ty for requesting <3 fem, 1.4k

“What are you doing?” 

A warm voice and a warmer hand pressed to your shoulder. You hide the mug under your palm and look up, finding yourself face to face with a grinning James. 

His glasses make his eyes a little smaller than they are in actuality. Closer, you can see all the different shades that surround his pupils, and his hedging of dark lashes, so dark it’s like he’s wearing makeup. 

“Nothing.” 

“It doesn’t look like nothing.” His hand remains on your shoulder, a brand as the other grabs at a torn corner of a packet you’d failed to throw away. Your lips part in horror, but he can’t be stopped now. “Um, excuse me, lovely girl, but you wouldn’t know what this is off, would you?” 

“Me?” 

“You, yeah.” 

“Um…” You squint at the packaging in mock confusion. “No, don’t think so.” 

“Well, there’s one way to get to the bottom of this.” 

He moves his hand, for which you’re thankful and disappointed at once. It had been close to a hug, that warmth lingering as James opens the kitchen cupboard and sorts through tens of boxes before pulling down a hastily returned cardboard box. ‘JAMES’ has been written across it in bold sharpie. 

He slips out a hot chocolate sachet from the box and compares the scrap he’d found to the corner. They are, unfortunately, an exact match. 

“Where do you get the audacity?” he asks plainly. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” 

“So what’s that, then?” 

“It’s nothing,” you say, sliding the mug further away from you both. 

There’s a silence. James puts the box back in the cupboard and peers at you where you’re curling in on yourself. He’s trying to intimidate you, at least for fun, something weighted and smiley about his gaze as he slides his arm between you and the counter. “If it’s nothing,” he says quietly, “then show it to me.” 

You angle your face up to explain yourself. He’d looked sad, tired even, and you’d hoped making him a cup of hot chocolate would cheer him up. Things between you lately are clearly different, not just to you but to everyone around you. All your interactions feel watched. James’ hand curling against your waist doesn’t even feel new, it just feels firm. 

A big hand, his thumb pressing into your soft stomach. 

Your breath catches as he moves you out of his way. 

“Is this my mug, too?” he asks, all tension draining, your relief a quick breath. (Your disappointment somewhere hidden beneath it.) “You’re the cheekiest girl alive. Shame on you.” 

You give him a strange look. He can’t ignore it, you’re too obvious. 

“What?” he asks, nudging the mug back toward your hand. 

For a second you…

“I’m just kidding,” he says, his eyes widening the longer you remain speechless. “You don’t have to panic. I’m joking, I don’t care.” 

“I was making it for you,” you say. 

James’ brows relax. “You were?” 

You give him the mug, and you don’t know what to do, what can you do? If you linger he’ll work out what you’re thinking, he has a detector for all your most embarrassing thoughts, you’re sure of it. You nod emphatically and weave around him without another word. 

“Y/N,” he says to your back. The door handle is cold in your hand. You almost walk straight into it. “Y/N, wait a second!” 

You turn around, weary of a scene. “I’m fine,” you say, startled by his reaction, “I just need a minute.” 

“What’s wrong?” he asks. 

“I’m fine.” You summon your most convincing smile. Your heart bends against your ribs. “Really.” 

You leave him standing in the kitchen, nonplussed, rushing out of the main part of the office and down the two flights of stairs. Out past the receptionists, down the concrete steps, where you stop at the bottom, and sit down hard. 

What are you doing? 

Where can you go? You can’t go anywhere. James is going to know exactly what it is that made you react like that, is going to realise you have feelings for him entirely outside of the common realm. And you’ll have to keep sitting at your adjacent desks pretending it’s not true. 

Why would he do that to you? His hand on your waist turning you toward him, your faces much closer than they’d ever been. James must know that’s an intimate touch. 

He’s messing with you. 

You spend five minutes glancing out at the car park before he comes to join you. It’s awful that you know that it’s him. The wind blows in pangs against the side of your face. 

“I’m really sorry,” James says, sitting on the second to last step beside you, a strange lack of space between your two bodies. “I didn’t mean to do that to you. To freak you out.” 

“It’s okay.” 

“I really didn’t. I know I’ve messed with you before, but you were looking at me like…” 

You rub your eye, a migraine brewing behind it. “Like what?” you ask. 

“I don’t know. Like that.” 

“How was I looking at you?” 

“I don’t know. Like I– Like I broke your heart.” He laughs ‘cos it’s stupid, but his laugh peters off strangely. 

“James, you were looking at me like you were…” What’s unsaid stays heavily between you. 

He looks off to the side, his hand coming up behind his hand to scratch his hair. Curls pull and plink as his fingers comb through them, he’s rough, but the lengths of his hair are shiny under what little of the sun floods through the cloud cover above. You watch him, stomach aching for an answer, some confirmation, but the more you look the less sure you are that you need it. Everything you feel for him wells to the surface. It’s hot, and urgent, and it’s getting too much for you to hold alone. 

“I don’t know what I’m doing,” he admits quietly. 

“James,” you say, wanting him like a palpable wound. Wanting him to need you too. “James,” you say again, putting your hand on his thigh carefully. 

He covers it instinctively. “What?” he asks. 

“Please, can I…” 

His eyes bore into yours, and follow your gaze when it tips down to his mouth. 

The skin between his brow creases with one deep wrinkle, his full lips twisted into a heart-hurting frown as he leans in. You close your eyes before he can close his own, waiting for him, to kiss you and to get this tugging yearning dealt with, but he doesn’t kiss you. His breath warms your lips and he turns to you completely, but he doesn’t kiss you. 

You want it so badly, you tip your chin up and press your lips to his. Terrified of him, because you really are in the palm of his hand now. It’s worse than when he hated you. 

He has the power to be a thousand times more cruel than he ever had before as you kiss him softly. 

James kisses back a second too late. He’s giving in to it and you’re pulling away, pins and needles in your hands. “Wait,” he says, his voice a shade of longing you’ve never heard, your eyes flashing open at the same time. His hand leaps for your waist. “Wait, please.” 

His fingers press into the dough of your side, holding you still, butterflies alive and riveted under his hand. 

You close your eyes on a whim, and he kisses you soundly. His lips part against yours to encourage a similar movement, his head tilted ever so slightly to one side and your noses smudged together. “Please,” he murmurs against your lips. 

You kiss him back like he kisses you. Soft, open-mouthed. 

His hand comes up to your face, pulling you forward, desperate to keep you close as he sighs against your mouth, the sound a vibration you feel at the back of your throat. 

Please, he’d said, like he wouldn’t get another go. 

Please. The tie on you snaps. 

You kiss him like you’ve never kissed anybody, hoping it isn’t just another obvious trick. 

[luuuuucyscorner]

𝐒𝐡𝐞'𝐬 𝐋𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐘𝐨𝐮- 𝐀𝐫𝐭 𝐃𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐥𝐝𝐬𝐨𝐧

Info: Tashi takes it too far with art and her protege

Tags: Angst I think? , Kissing, Tashi being a bitch, sort of reader x Tashi

Word count: 1,530

A/n: I'm rusty sorry if this is trash

Art and Tashi are greedy, and they know it. How else had their marriage come about, after all? If not greed, for one another—for different parts, different pieces, different people. And then, you had come along.

You'd practically dropped into their laps. Since Art had retired, Tashi had been itching for someone to sink her claws in, to sharpen raw talent into excellence. You—a pretty young thing, short-skirted and starry-eyed as you wielded your racket like a weapon in the Juniors Australian Open, to France to Wimbledon and all the way to a Grand Slam.

Tashi wanted you. Had to have you—and what Tashi wanted, Art wanted.

You melted like putty in their hands. Art's Career Grand slam was still fresh, and even if it weren't—you've known their names for as long as you've been able to hit a ball with a racket.

Its been a year since then, and under their tutelage; the world has become your oyster—the tennis world, anyways (which is the only world that matters). It's why, currently, you're sandwiched in-between Art and Tashi on the couch of a five-star hotel; TV replaying your game footage as Tashi gives commentary—harsh, but in-fucking-valuable.

Tashi's midway through an extensive analysis of your backhand, when her leg shifts and you're suddenly hyper-aware of the way her thigh presses into yours. Her words bleed away in the rush of warmth to your cheeks.

Art also seems more pre-occupied with kneading his hand in slow, tender circles down your back. It feels nice. Familiar. It doesn't help the way your thoughts are drifting, as if the two people crammed beside you are not literally married, and why would it matter that they're still leaning into your sides even though there's so much space on either side of the couch—

"Hey." Tashi's hand squeezes your knee, nails digging into your skin. "You want to be good or not?" She's sharp, scalding—but a smirk plays at her lips. Your cheeks burn. Art exhales, a low, breathy chuckle. Wife, husband and protégé.

"of course i do" you tell her nervously

'So easy', Art can't help but muse to himself, and his own eyes are drawn to the faintest pink flush of your cheeks. Tashi's face remains neutral. Her eyes fix on the screen. No expression, no expression. The only tells are in the slight, nearly imperceptible stiffening of her shoulders.

“So.” Tashi cocks her head, her dark brown eyes flicking to yours for a moment. “You’re not hitting as hard as you could be from your left side.”

"You know I've had an injury recently" you mutter.

“It’s been months.” There’s a tinge of impatience in Tashi’s voice now. “Do you want to keep making excuses, or do you actually want to fix the problem. Your game today was sloppy—your forehand needs work, L/n.”

your mouth presses into a thin line and you look away from her reservedly.

“C’mon, love.” Art tries to offer some semblance of assurance. His thumb strokes across the line of your shoulder blades, a touch that’s soothing and tender—but also possessive. Greedy.

Tashi’s nails dig just a little harder into your knee. “We’re only trying to help you out,” she adds. There’s a beat of silence. Then— “Do you think we like watching you lose, L/n?”

"I won today Tashi. I was good"

She scoffs sharply. “You were good? Don’t make me laugh. You know, I’ve seen your junior games. I’ve seen your first few grand slams since you started going big. This year? You’ve been—,” Tashi gives a short, dry laugh, shaking her head.

“You can’t even finish a game with less than five unforced errors. Your game today was so full of mistakes… it’s a wonder you even won the second set.”

She's still touching you. both of them are still touching you. tears begin to well in your eyes "I understand".

Tashi sees those unfallen tears, that first hint of fragility, and her expression hardens. “No, no, you don’t understand. You need to be hard—you need to be better. You’ve let too much get to you, L/n, and it shows in your game.”

"fine" you raise from the couch, their hands falling off of you, and walk to the door of the hotel, sitting in the hall outside.

They watch you walk out, and when Art makes to follow you, Tashi’s hand snaps out, latching onto his wrist. “Wait.”

Art raises a brow. The look in her dark eyes is hard and implacable as iron, with a hint of something dangerous flickering within. Tashi leans in, murmuring quietly so they can’t be overheard.

“It’s getting to her. You know it is. She’s too sensitive for her own good—not mentally tough enough.”

Then Tashi raises her eyes to Art's "she's like you"

At this, Art stills. The breath in his lungs hitches, his pulse stuttering in a flicker of panic. A million different insecurities and fears flash through his mind.

He manages a laugh—low, nervous—but Tashi’s expression remains implacable. It doesn’t even waver.

“She’s—she’s not like me,” he insists. "I made it to a Career Grand-slam"

Tashi scoffs again. “Yeah, on your second try. And Y/n’s on the fast track to the same. She’s good Art—great, even. But you know she’s not tough. You know she’s soft—she’s gonna break if we’re not careful.”

"if you're not careful" he says carelessly.

That makes Tashi give him a look, and it’s suddenly sharp, a little dangerous. The grip on his wrists tightens. “Art. Listen. You need to get tougher. Not just with her—you’ve gotten too soft, too. And that’s how you lose—that’s how you lose everything."

There’s something almost pleading under her words. Like she’s saying something more.

"cant you just let me be retired?" he begs, voice almost a whisper.

“No!” The word is sharp as a whip, and Art’s eyes widen in surprise as it rings out. Tashi stands, the line of her body stiff. Anger flickers in her gaze. “You don’t get to do that, Art. You’ve been retired less than a year, and you’re already slacking. Letting yourself go soft—slacking off on training, and working, and…”

She huffs out a sharp breath and turns away, clenching her fists. “I hate it when you do that.”

She turns away dismissively and Art walks over to the door and sits down next to you on the hallway carpet.

You're a pitiful sight. Curled up in the hallway of a five-star hotel, face buried against your knees, shoulders shaking in nearly silent sobs—and as Art settles beside you, the shuddering of your shoulders grows stronger, and your tears run more freely.

Wordlessly, he draws you into his embrace, wrapping you up in his broad, warm arms and pulling you against his chest.

Art lets you cry. Lets his hold tighten a little as you lean into him.

"I-I'm try-ing" you sob.

“I know. I know…shh…” Words soothe you gently, hands rubbing against your back and soothing the shivers in your spine in slow, tender circles.

Art's face is pressed into the top of your head, breath hot against your hair as you're half-curled into his lap. He's so careful around you, always, so gentle—because you're too easy to crack, too fragile, too inexperienced to know any better.

"We have to go back in" he mumbles into your hair, "We can't let anyone see you like this"

He doesn’t have to say the reasoning—it’s obvious.

If the press got a sniff of this? Of a junior player crying in the hallway? You’d be mocked to hell and back again.

Tashi would never let you live it down.

“Hey…shh, come on… it’s alright.” Art’s voice is soft and soothing. His breath is warm against your hair, every bit of him warm and gentle and caring.

He presses a soft kiss to the top of your head, a gesture you could almost mistake for affectionate—if he weren’t married, and you weren’t his protégé.

You begin to calm down and allow Art to pull you gently onto your feet.

Once you’re standing, Art’s hands are careful, guiding you back into the room and onto the couch.

Tashi glances at you for a brief moment; there’s no trace of pity in her gaze or emotion. It’s cold, analytical—but you notice the way she takes in the way you’re tucked under the protective shadow of Art’s broad figure. There’s something like jealousy in her eyes for a moment.

"Tashi, I'm sorry." you mumble tiredly "If it's alright with you, I'd like to go to sleep now, I promise to get back on track"

Tashi’s eyes are still fixed on you for a moment before she gives a soft exhale, nodding. “Go.”

Art offers no opposition, and a moment after she’s finished speaking, he guides you out. His palm rests on the small of your back, a hand far too large to be that delicate but still moving with a gentleness that’s almost reverent.

He sends an appreciative nod to his wife as he leads your tired body into the bedroom and helps you position yourself under the sheets. He runs his fingers soothingly through your hair until you begin to drift off, sighing heavily.

[reiderwriter]

🧺 Any More 🧺

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

For the CM Kink Bingo Challenge 2024

Requested: spencer realizing that he’ll never love someone as much as he loves you. (whether that be because of a case or what have you), his mind is absolutely blown with how much he worships you and how much you love and care for him and he shows you that with the softest most sickeningly sweet sex you and him has ever done. <3

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI! Discussions of case details, case burnout, very close friends to lovers, oral (f receiving), vanilla sex (p in v penetration). Discussions of mental health, and two idiots in love.

A/N: I'm hitting the prompt Vanilla for this one, so please don't be scared off by the KinkBingo tags! I had a lot of fun writing this one (and adding Pride and Prejudice quotes into the smut scene because HELLO). Let me know what you think in the replies~♡

Masterlist || Bingo Board

You hadn't seen Spencer in 100 days. Which in the grand scheme of things wasn't that long, trapped in the purgatory of a ‘what if’ the way you had been for the last eight years. 

You'd lived without him for longer than 100 days before. He'd been in prison, you'd been on assignments, you'd lived an entire life before meeting him, but now somehow 100 days was too much time, and you were exhausted. You understood why Spencer had to take some time away from you, from the team in an official capacity after everything he'd been through. You supported him even. 

But when even your free time didn't overlap anymore, you wondered if your relationship would ever be the same again. 

Spencer was a friend, your best friend, probably. You'd arrived on the BAU team, he'd rattled off some statistics, stammering the way through them, and you'd immediately warmed to the man. He was brilliant, funny, and fiercely loyal, and you tried your best to protect him even when the job seemed designed to break people like him into thousands of little pieces. 

You'd tried to convince him to leave before, after Maeve had died. You didn't want to see him heart broken again, but no one else had seemed to agree. 

“Reid needs purpose,” they'd said. “Reid needs something to do.” 

What Reid needed was to not end up dead before he had a chance to be happy, and happiness didn't come often in your field of work. 

You'd been almost vindicated a year later when he'd been shot again, almost fatally. Vindicated, maybe but distraught and inconsolable. Morgan had to carry you screaming and clawing out of his hospital room multiple times. It sounded stupid enough to yourself that it was only then you realized your feelings for the man. 

You wanted to be Spencer Reid's happiness, which was why you were so lost without him. 

He was coming back on Monday, and at least you had the weekend to sort your feelings out about everything.not just about him, but about the job you'd found didn't fit you well enough anymore, about the team you loved like family, about the relationship you knew would likely never come to fruition. 

You dumped your bags at your door when you'd arrived in your house that night, pushed yourself into your bedroom and let yourself collapse on your bed, balling up into as cozy a position as you could. You didn't even bother taking your jacket off, you just let your brain haze over and sleep rush in. 

Three quiet raps at your door lifted you up and out of bed again, not an hour later. 

You grabbed your phone, grabbed the second go-bag you kept at your house, put your shoes back on, and opened the door, expecting Emily and a new case. 

“Where are we going?” You said, rubbing the sleep out of your eyes, not even looking up at your guest. 

“Hopefully, nowhere? I brought takeout.” 

Your eyes widened then, taking in all 185cm of Doctor Spencer Reid, tweed jacket and plastic bag full of chow mein included. 

“Spencer,” you breathed out, like a sigh of relief, letting the bag drop to the floor next to the first one and letting yourself into his arms. 

He held you carefully there for a second before leading you back into the apartment, wrapping an arm around you and ruffling your hair. It was brotherly, and it made you sick to your stomach. 

“What are you doing here?” 

“Emily said you were back from a case,” he started, unpacking the takeaway from the containers. “And it feels wrong to eat this without you.” 

You rolled your eyes and followed him into the kitchen, pulling two forks out of the drawer nearer you and stabbing them in the top of your two cups. 

“Hey, I can use chopsticks now,” he said, defending himself against an inside joke. Spencer was always useless with his hands. 

“I don't care if you can use them, I care that they don't accidentally end up stabbing me,” you said, taking yourself back to your bedroom, Spencer following. 

“You'd hardly die from being stabbed by a wooden chopstick, maybe a papercut or a splinter but-” 

“But you're just bad enough that I don't want to risk it.” 

You kicked off your shoes again and climbed onto your bed. Spencer followed. 

“Remind me again why we aren't sitting on your couch?” 

“Uncomfortable.” 

“Or at your breakfast bar?” 

“Glorified filing cabinet right now. Eat.” 

He shook his head but complied, leaning back against your pillows as you both began carefully eating. Silently, you pulled your laptop onto your bed, opened it up, and pressed play on a movie, one you'd seen more than once, and you'd forced Spencer to watch before as well. 

In a comfortable, friendly silence, you finished your food. You stretched out in a yawn once and then curled into his side, letting his mumbling voice, repeating the movie lines as they were spoken, lull you softly into sleep. 

Spencer knew he had to leave, but he couldn't bring himself to wake you. The movie had finished hours ago, he'd closed the laptop and turned off the bug lights, but he couldn't leave. 

Unlike you, he hadn't counted the days that you'd been apart. He hadn't needed to. He knew you'd be waiting there for him when he returned, knew you'd give him a smile and a pat on the back, and immediately start bouncing ideas off of him. It was what he loved about you. 

As he laid next to you in your bed, a place he'd absolutely been before, his heart thumped. Just once, but hard. 

Even in sleep, you looked exhausted. Your shirt was crumpled, hair a mess, you were still wearing makeup, and he knew he'd probably get an earful for letting you sleep like that in the morning. You were a mess, and he still wanted you. 

The thought came to him suddenly, another painful thump of his chest echoing in his mind. He rubbed absent mindedly at his chest as if experiencing heartburn. In the dim light of the room, he let his head drop to the pillow and wrapped two shaky arms around you and pulled you in closer. 

The two of you were a picture - both in suits, both with badges still somewhere on your person, both dearly clinging to the person they feared losing the most. 

When you woke the next morning, it was actually the afternoon. 

“Spencer,” you groaned, melting under the heat of his embrace. Somehow, during the night, he'd rolled on top of you, pressing you into the bed with a delightful pressure, head nuzzled into your neck, arms tucked around your waist. 

“Spencer, we should get up,” you said again, forcing your eyelids apart as your mascara tried to glue them together. 

“Mmmmhh,” he groaned, moving to pick himself up off you for a minute but lowering himself again. If asked, he'd blame your hand in his hair, stroking the rogue curls gently, as if he were a prized pet and you their carer. 

“Spencer, its 2pm.” 

“On a Saturday.” You laughed at how pouty his voice sounded, but he complied and rolled off of you slightly, arms still wrapped around you. 

“Come on. Get up. I've got some clothes that might fit you, let's get you out of the tweed.” 

He huffed but nodded and lifted himself halfway to upright, eyes still closed lazily as he let in the light millimetre by millimetre. 

“God, my face feels horrible,” you said, itching at your nose. “How did we even sleep so long like this? My belt is still on, Spencer, my belt.” 

“If you were still wearing a weapon, then I'd be worried,” he smiled. 

You shot him a sarcastic look and finally detangled yourself, only to clasp his hands and pull him forward as well, letting him trail you to your closet. 

“Here, change in the bathroom,” he nodded and walked away, following directions with eyes still closed, as if it were really his apartment and not your own. 

100 days without him, and it was as if it had only been 100 hours. Your entire body chemistry changed when he was around, the stick holding your spine rigidly in place, dissolving into calm, into a smile and a free giggle. It felt right again, and you almost forgot you'd ever felt wrong. 

After briefly changing, you swapped place with Spencer, who'd exited the bathroom with a toothbrush hanging out of his mouth and wet hair. 

“Dry it for me?” He asked, sitting on your couch, and you nodded your ascent. A shower and a quick change later, and you were doing just that. 

As much as he tried to keep his head upright, it kept lolling onto your thigh, yawns stretching out of him as he nuzzled closer to you. 

“Spencer, you're like a big kid, keep your head up.” 

“I'm not a kid,” he laughed, hooking his arms behind your knees and nuzzling closer into your soft sweats. “I'm just tired.” 

“You're right. A child would probably be better behaved.” 

“Our child would be,” he sighed, but you'd already turned the hairdryer back on, drowning out everything. Everything but that thump again. A child, he was thinking about children, and more importantly, he was thinking about your children. With him. 

He'd always imagined himself with a family, knowing it would ultimately stay in his imagination. But for a second, his visions changed. It wasn't just a child or two. It was you. Thump. 

Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump. 

He only released the image when you finally pushed his head off of you and stood, turning away from him to get a glass of water from your kitchen. 

“So, any plans today? Books to read, papers to mark, undergrads to run away screaming from?” You let the ice water cool your hot cheeks, but kept your back to him. You were hot, embarrassed, and you were looking at him in a sickeningly sweet way that could only be described as love struck or struck dumb. 

“No, no, I finished all my obligations at the college yesterday,” he said, following behind you and picking up your cup when you set it down, taking a sip himself. 

“I was… I was actually hoping we could spend some time together? Unless you had plans, which is totally fine-” 

“No, Spencer, yeah, I have no plans, that's…. Well I have to do laundry, which is a bit boring but, no. No plans.” 

“Laundry?” 

“Two week case in Florida, I don't know how you didn't smell me yesterday, Spencer. I'd be running for the hills.” 

He laughed and stepped away again, grabbing the two go bags by the door and coming back into your space. 

“How about we get this done now so we can spend the day in a Who-Trek marathon?” 

“Make that a Who-Greys Anatomy Marathon, and you have yourself a deal.” 

He pouted again, and you snorted at the sight, taking another sip of water to calm yourself before you could react safely to that face. 

“Come on, you know you've been dying to know what happens next at the Grey Sloane Memorial Hospital.” 

“I thought it was called the Seattle Grace Mercy?” 

“Oh we better get to that laundry now. You have a lot to catch up on.” 

Grabbing a bag in one hand and his free hand in your other, you made your way down to your building's laundry room. But despite the man by your side and the relaxing day threatening to stretch ahead of you, a gloom caught you in the corridors. 

You'd worked for two weeks, practically solid. You'd killed a man two days ago, or at least someone on your team had multiple shots having been fired. Another day on your job, another unsub felled, and everyone else was content with this just being a part of the job description. 

It felt like each step towards the laundry room, each thing you did that was normal, that was regular, threw back in your face the pain you endured to save lives. 

The bag in your hand weighed you down, pulling you lower and lower by the second. 

You reached the laundry room, and you found the weight almost unbearable, stopping just before you could step in. You didn't have to think about what came next though, because suddenly the bag was out of your hands and Spencer was sorting your laundry for you. 

“It's a Saturday, so your neighbour's won't complain if we separate the darks and lights into two machines, will they?” He asked, not looking up at you as he worked pouring out the fabric softener and the detergent. “Y/N?” 

You hadn't noticed the lightness in your body until the tears hit your cheeks, the weight gone with his support. 

“Y/N, what is it? What's wrong?” He said, hands cupping your face, because of course he was immediately at your side. 

“I-I can't do it, Spencer…” your voice shook, pitching upwards, your vision blurring with tears. 

“Can't do what, Y/N? Talk to me please, let me help?” 

“I can't do laundry!” You said, finally bursting into a full fit of tears and burying your head in his waiting chest. 

“L-Laundry?” He said, trying not to laugh, but the smile slipping out anyway now you were holding him. 

You only sobbed again, nodding into his shirt, aware you were probably leaving snot all over it but not being able to care. It was your shirt anyway. You would just have to add it back to your laundry pile. 

The thought set you off on another wave of sobs, and Spencer set about comforting you again. Keeping an arm wrapped around you, he put his quarters into the machines and set them off before quickly ushering you back up the stairs into your apartment. 

“Y/N? Y/N, please talk to me,” he begged, smoothing your hair out of your eyes as you tried to gather yourself.

“I don't…. I can't….” You took a breath again, aware of the way your breathing hitched in your chest as you did. 

“I don't think I can do this anymore,” you said, and his eyes widened quickly. 

“This? Y/N, if you mean this as in us, then I can't-” 

“This job,” you clarified, hands digging into the soft flesh of his arms further as he held you, finally sitting back on your couch. 

“The job. Okay, the job. That's okay. We all feel like this at some point.” 

You sniffed again and refused to meet his eyes. 

“But this isn't like the other times this - It's like my whole b-body is protesting, and I can't sleep, and if I don't, then I might get sloppy and an unsub could-” 

“Y/N, focus on my voice. You're spiralling. Listen to my voice, let's take some breaths, and think about this for a second.” 

He guided you through some breathing, a hand on your back tapping out beats even as his voice grew quiet. 

When you finally relaxed, you were sat on top of him, his hand rubbing circles into your back. 

“I think it started when you left,” you whispered. “When you went to Mexico, and then, you know,” you've voice thickened, and you couldn't get the words out. 

“And then these last 100 days they've just been…difficult.” 

“100…difficult,” he echoed, almost breathless as he listened to you. 

“It's like I can't do it without you. I never had to try to do it without you, and now I get what people say when they say this job is shitty, because it is when your best friend isn't there.” 

You gave him a weak smile and wiped away your tears, trying to climb from his lap. But his firm arms held you still, and you didn't really want out anyways. 

“When I get home, everything is different, and I can't make myself do anything. If you weren't here, I wouldn't have done that laundry. I'd let it sit and avoid it for weeks. Do you understand?” 

“Y/N, lots of people feel depressed sometimes-” 

“It's not - Spencer, I don't think this is something I can medicate my way out of. I don't know what to do because I can't do my job without you, and I can't be happy doing my job, and if I leave my job I'll be without you and then-” 

Your voice cracked again. 

“And then I still won't be happy.” The words were barely a whisper, but they were a plea, too. You weren't sure what for. 

“You can't be happy without me?” He asked, but it was more a statement than anything else. Spencer felt horrible in that moment as his chest rattled, gleeful that he was your happiness. 

“I love you,” he said, outloud finally after eight years. 

“I love you, too, Spencer, but-” 

“No, Y/N. Listen to me. I. Love. You.” The thumping of his heart set the tempo for the choir that was his senses to begin singing, as he finally leaned forward and kissed you.

“I love you, and I don't care if you're working at the BAU or if you're avoiding laundry at home. I, god, you're amazing and wonderful, and you're a human being, and you've our yourself under so much pressure for the last decade to keep me alive, to keep all of us alive really and….” 

He took another breath, leaning into kiss you one more time. 

“And you deserve a break.” 

“W-When we take breaks, people die.” 

“Did anyone die when I was teaching for the last three months? When JJ went on maternity leave?” 

You shook your head, but your brain was still a mess. 

“You all had reasons, I-” 

“You have reasons, too. Y/N…. Y/N, let me be your reason.” 

For a moment or two, Spencer truly thought you were going to say no. He thought you would get up and walk away, or better yet, ask him to leave and never come back. 

So when you pressed your lips to his, he was sure that this was a dream. 

But to you, it was salvation. Spencer Reid's love was the lifeline you'd been thrown, and it was buoyant enough to make you start floating. 

His hands kneaded the flesh at your hips as he pulled you closer still to him, his tongue slipping into your mouth to explore every part of you there. 

“Y/N… love…you,” he mumbled with each spare breath he caught, and you only detangled your lips to hear him say it again as he pressed similarly heated kisses against every inch of your exposed skin. 

When Spencer's mind lost its ability to create original speech, he leant back on a lifetime of information, of learning love through books and people and marathons with you. 

“I know that all I know right now is that I love you. And I know that I always will,” he whispered, lifting you and carrying you back to the bed you'd only crawled from an hour hence. 

A hand slid under your shirt, and slowly pushed it over your head, letting it slowly drop to the floor as he held you tenderly. 

“To me, you are perfect.”

His mouth found one nipple, and he gently kissed, then suckled at it, hands softly caressing your stomach, feeling along every ridge of you as you writhed under him. 

“Of all the FBI Units, in all the towns, in all the world, she walks into mine.” 

“Spencer,” you said, voice still thick with tears, but these ones more tender, more joyful. 

His hand eased your sweats over your ass and off, his hips settling between your legs as if he found the place he was made to lie forever. 

“The truth of it is, I’ve loved you from the first second I met you.” 

His mouth trailed lower until his tongue hit your clit, brushing against it languidly, as if it was his deepest desire to taste you and nothing else ever again.

His tongue flattened and flicked and pushed inside of you as you replayed his words again and again and again. You found yourself repeating them with him. 

“I love you,” you echoed as he pushed a finger inside of you. 

“I.. love you,” you gasped as he added another. 

“I love you,” you screamed as your back arched up off the bed, finding your pleasure in his tongue, just ad you'd found love in his words. 

“You have bewitched me body and soul, and I love….” He freed his cock from his pants, and took it in hand.

“I love…” With another kiss, he pressed the tip of it against you, asking for permission silently as you nodded your head. 

“I love you.” He pushed in slowly, but it wouldn't matter how he did it because now you knew how he felt, and you didn't want to return to a time of not knowing. 

Hooking your legs around him, Spencer dropped his forehead to yours and looked you directly in the eyes as he began moving. In and out, he thrust, mouth open in a moan of pleasure, likely mirroring your own.

The poetry, the movie lines, they were gone now, and Spencer was left with nothing but you, and love, and love for you. 

“Spencer,” you moaned out, and he felt his chest swell. Pride. His name on your tongue, his body pressed to yours, claiming you as his ad you claimed him as yours. 

He came with a shudder and you were not far behind, his undoing sending a shiver up your spine as his fingers grazed your clit again. 

You sat panting for a minute, still attached, still forehead to forehead. 

You weren't sure if it was him who giggled first or if it was you, but you were glad it was one of you. 

You spent the rest of the night, the rest of the weekend, wrapped in his warmth, dressed in his love, taking each day a step at a time as you basked in his adoration.

[itsmrshamilton]

That's My Wife! | LH44

Summary: lewis & reader get married and make an instagram reel displaying their shock. (PLEASE check out this👇 reel cause it inspired me.) //www.instagram.com/reel/C6Wxj_zR_l1/

a/n: this is my first time writing on here. Im excited but nervous cause I feel like someone will judge me or call me out for copying (which i would never do). Let me know what you think & requests are open.

• • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • • •

You laughed loudly as Lewis' arms wrapped around you and pulled you back into his chest. The elevator you were in was bright and empty so your giggles bounced off the walls.

"Oh my gosh, Lew. We're going to fall over!" You exclaimed as he nuzzled his head into the crook of your neck and rocked the both of you side to side. You weren't actually worried but your intoxicated state did mean that if you went down, Lewis would have to bear all the weight.

"You smell amazing," he mumbled. "You look amazing, you feel amazing. God, I love you." He pressed kisses onto your neck, ear, and temple as you hummed in contentment. You and Lewis had left your wedding reception to get some time alone and rest before tomorrow's big brunch. The reception was somehow still in full swing at midnight with uncles and aunts from both sides tearing up the dance floor. It had been the best wedding you had ever attended. Gold and ivory fabric adorned every table, chair, and wall with large crystal chandeliers hanging from the high ceilings and fairy lights in the rose garden to top it all off. The wedding planning had taken months and left you with many sleepless nights, but in the end, it all came together and was worth the hassle.

Now, in the elevator on the way to your room, the two of you took a second to breathe. You reached up to stroke Lewis' head on your shoulder. "I love you more. I can't believe I get to spend eternity with you." You said to him. He straightened up just as the elevator dinged and opened it's doors, allowing him to lead you out by your hand. He stepped into the empty hallway of the hotel, walked over the wall and whipped out his phone to fiddle with it.

"What are you doing?" You asked as you stood there with the train of your big white dress draped over one arm and your silver heels in the other hand. "Give me a sec." His brown eyes connected with yours as he glanced over his shoulder before he quickly set his phone up against the wall. Lewis stepped back to take your shoes out of your hands and pull you closer to him in front of the camera. "I'm just introducing everyone to my wife, baby." He smiled at you.

Your breath hitched and you grinned back. Lewis calling you his wife was thrilling and you felt butterflies in your stomach. He pecked your lips then turned to his phone. "Hey! What are you looking at? Are you eyeing my wife?!" He said to the camera as he took on a threatening stance. You giggled at his antics before giving the phone a stink eye and leaning towards your reflection in it. "Yo, are you really trying my husband? You've got to get through me first." You were both boisterously laughing at this stage.

His beautiful brown eyes sparkled with pure joy when he looked you. He would never stop thanking his lucky stars that he had met you. You were truly the most etheral being he had ever laid eyes on. With your hair done up, your make-up accentuating your best features and your beautiful lips gracing him with a smile. You wrapped one arm around his shoulders and raised your diamond-clad left hand at the camera sassily. "You see this ring? I'm his wife! That's right." You laughed. He lifted his hand too to show off his diamond crusted ring as well.

"I'm her husband so you better back up" he placed his hand over yours so that both rings were on display for the phone still recording your shenanigans. "I'm a married man. I'm a hubby, now. So watch yourself."

You dissolved into more laughter at that. The glasses of wine you had drank all evening were definitely working through your system right now. "We're married! We're a married couple! I'm your wife! " you were yelling and laughing at the same time. Struggling to keep yourself upright, you leaned into Lewis more. He caught you and reciprocated your energy. "I know, baby! Oh, man. I can't believe it! How is this allowed??"

You looked at the man of your dreams. Looking beautiful in a white suit bedazzled with expensive jewels. His bright eyes, pinks lips, sweet dimple. All of him was yours. Yours to love and to hold til death do you apart. Facing you, he lifted his hands to your face and gently pressed a kiss to your lips. You smiled into it and wrapped your arms around his waist.

"I love you so so much, Mrs Hamilton." He whispered against your lips. He kissed you again, deeply this time and you groaned into his mouth. Feeling electricity run straight to his groin, Lewis pulled away to quickly turn to the camera. "And, now we're off to do married couple things!" He snickered.

"Lewis-" You exclaimed as he cut the video.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Thanks for reading. Be sure to interact with this post before you leave. 💗

Please do not translate, repost or alter my writing because I do not consent. If you do, I will send evil shongololos to bite your toes off at night.

[inkdrinkerworld]

Spencer and sunshine!reader have to go undercover as a couple at like a bar or something to catch an unsub!!!! The team would be like “make it believable!”…but they’re literally not pretending. Just acting how they usually would with more ‘free-spirited’ hands. 😭

“Just make it believable okay?” Was the only instruction Emily had given you both. 

You’re currently in a bar with Spencer, a strawberry vodka in your hands as he sips on a coke. 

“Spencer, are you scared to put your hands on me?” you ask when your shoes brush the toes of his, trying to get Spencer to hold onto you as you scan behind him for the unsub. 

“You know that I’m not,” he only steps a little closer, his hand falling to the middle of your back. 

You don’t say anything for a moment, trying hard to find the man you and Spencer were sent to ensnare. 

The unsub you’re trying to catch has a thing for voyeurism that turns into him wanting to insert himself in a couple’s dealings which had a funny way of turning into a very sex and murder type of party. 

The minute your eyes lock with his, Spencer’s hand falls into the back pocket of your skin tight jeans. Even through the thick denim you can feel the warmth of his palm. 

“Too much?” he licks his lips as you shake your head, eyes still locked on the unsub. “Do you see him?” you nod again and Spencer smiles. 

“He’s near the restrooms, blue polo and khaki pants.” you whisper the information hoping that Emily hears you. There’s a bit of static then her affirmative and you nod.

“Look up at me,” Your heart races when you look up and find Spencer’s eyes darker than usual. He leans down, nose brushing yours and you’re only vaguely embarrassed by the surprised squeak that left your lips the moment Spencer’s hand groped your bum. 

“Spencer,” you gasp, lips brushing his. You can feel your heart in your throat. All you can smell is him. That godforsaken cherry and spiced chocolate cologne that he wears filling your head.

“Sweetheart,” he murmurs, eyes leaving yours for a brief moment. “Is he coming this way?” 

Who is Spencer talking about? 

“Blue polo,” he reminds you, it takes a moment for your eyes to land on the moving man but when they do you nod. “Good, kiss the corner of my mouth.” 

You find your voice then, “Are you usually this bossy?” Spencer smirks but instead of an answer he just taps beneath your chin forcing you to tilt it further up. 

“Would you prefer it if I do it?” Spencer Reid is on his own private mission to end you, you’re sure of it. 

“Yeah,” when you tell Penelope of what happens later on tonight, you’ll be sure to leave out how breathless you were when you agreed. 

The kiss is chaste and sweet, a quick little nip. It gives the unsub enough time to reach you both and try to put his hands on you before Spencer is pulling out his badge and you’re attaching handcuffs onto his wrists. 

“FBI, we’d like to ask you some questions.” 

You can’t look anyone in the eye when you walk back into the precinct, flushed and flustered and fighting the urge to touch the corner of your lips where Spencer’s had been.

[hhughes]

♯ 𝐌𝐎𝐍𝐀𝐂𝐎◞ 𝑴𝑩¹³

✰ 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 ⤫ leclerc!sister x mat barzal

✰ 𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬 ⤫ in which the paddock’s favourite sister arrives at the Monaco GP with a new guest

✰ 𝐜𝐰 ⤫ none.

✰ 𝐚/𝐧 ⤫ ngl. . . this is very self indulgent 🤷‍♀️ but I hope you enjoy anyway <3

f1wags

f1wags: our favourite girl has returned to the paddock; and this time it’s with a guest! Y/N leclerc shows up to the monaco track with who I presume to be her bf, and sits down for lunch with her brothers. the first time we’ve seen the entire leclerc family together in a while since Y/N has been in New York for work.

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user15: family reunion🥺

user19: my royal family of Monaco fr

user77: I’m so happy to see them all together again. I just know Charles missed her so much🥲

user66: I read an article that said Y/N came straight from the airport so this is the first interaction they’ve had in months!

f1wags: he hugged her for a good ten minutes before he let anyone else get a chance

user51: um- are we gonna skip over the bf part??

user16: how do we know it’s her bf tho…

f1wags: they were very affectionate since the moment they got out of the together. the car that arrived from the airport, so assume he’s american and flew with her. they also kissed and it looked like he was meeting her family (charles, arthur, lozenzo, pascal) I mean we won’t know 100% until she confirms it but it sure looks like they’re together. . .

user77: nooo… my wife is taken 😔

user11: I really wanna know who her bf is tho cause I’m sorry but he’s fineeeee

user62: I expected nothing less from a leclerc sibling. they always bag the prettiest people

lando.jpg

liked by charlesleclerc, ynleclerc, matbarzal and others.

lando.jpg: boat day with the bestie(s?) 🛥️

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user23: DID HE JUST—

user65: HE DID😭😭

user21: did lando just hard launch Y/N’s relationship?

user57: yep. tagged the guy and everything💀

user66: he’s such a little menace

user22: I’m not complaining I’ve been trying to figure out who it is for days🙏 thank you lando

ynleclerc: oh lando🫤

landonorris: don’t “oh lando” me, you didn’t say it was a secret????

ynleclerc: what do you think the words NOT PUBLIC means??

landonorris: the lad had his hands ALL over you in the paddock, it was gonna be public news by the end of the weekend… at least this way it came from a reliable source🤷‍♂️

user62: don’t let the fact that Y/N is dating some hot hockey player from New York distract you from the fact that the besties are reunited!!! I’ve been missing this duo so much

user90: and they’re causing chaos as usual🥲

ynleclerc

liked by charlesleclerc, matbarzal, and others.

ynleclerc: since we were little, I’ve always been your biggest supporter and that will never change charlie. watching you achieve a dream you’ve worked your whole life to achieve is something so magical and all I could ever wish for you as a sibling. congratulations C! I love you endlessly❤️💌

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user13: “watching you achieve a dream you’ve worked your whole life to achieve is something so magical and all I could ever wish for you as a sibling” UM— EXCUSE ME WHILE I GO SOB😭😭

charlesleclerc: I couldn’t possibly do any of this without your love and support. my lucky charm, always. je t'aime❤️❤️❤️

ynleclerc: ❤️

user76: he finally did it😭🙏

user66: these are so beautiful… did you take them?? @.ynleclerc

ynleclerc: I did! I’ve never been so grateful that I carry my camera with me EVERYWHERE. I feel so honoured that I got to capture this entire weekend. I’ll cherish it forever😚

matbarzal

liked by charlesleclerc, jackhughes, and others.

matbarzal: starting the off-season right ❤️

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noahdobson: just casually posts a picture with charles leclerc and lando norris 🧍‍♂️

matbarzal: I’ll still remember you when I’m famous😘

user72: what. the. fuck.

user77: all of us rn cause this is the wildest crossover I could ever imagine between F1 and hockey😭

user11: they’re both so hot it’s kind of unfair

ynleclerc: ❤️

matbarzal: je t'aime❤️

user55: I wonder if she made fun of Mat’s awful canadian french 😭😭

mattymarts: you expect us to believe you did laundry? I don’t think you even know how

charlesleclerc: I won. guess you’re gonna have to come to every race now 🤷‍♂️

matbarzal: should’ve never told you about superstitions 😔you don’t need them, that win was all you bro😉

charlesleclerc: miss you guys already. gonna have to come to a hockey game next season

matbarzal: you should! we’d be honoured to have you

user77: did someone say bromance??

user19: someone check on beau

ynleclerc

liked by charlesleclerc, matbarzal, and others.

ynleclerc: monaco❤️

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matbarzal: red is definitely your colour baby❤️🥵

scuderiaferrari: we agree😌🏎️

charlesleclerc: thanks for coming sis❤️

arthurleclerc: miss you already🥺❤️

sydneymartin: so iconic😍

ynleclerc: says the ms. iconic herself 🥰

user21: UM— Mat looks so good OMFG

user72: she definitely dressed him

user62: YN please keep the Mat content coming🙏

user14: if I was YN leclerc all my life problems would be solved

ynleclerc: If I had your lashes all my problems would be solved. you’re stunning 😚

user16: you know those couples that just make sense? they’re definitely one of those

user88: can’t wait to see her at games and stuff

[dolimiu]

ATTACHED AT THE HIP !

katsuki bakugo  ×  fmr   𝞋𝞎   synopsis ;   someone as rough around the edges as bakugo makes it hard to believe that there's more to him than just a loud and vulgar mouth. however, whenever you come into the picture, he tends to ease up a bit. ──  ❪   fluff  childhood bsfs pre war arc  0.7k  mutual pining,  cw  none   ❫

soft is not a word anyone would use to describe katsuki bakugo. in fact, if someone tried to call him that, they'd be met with a vulgar insult — one that would likely make them gasp.

he hates nicknames (which is ironic, since he rarely calls anyone by their real name), despises people who get in his way or talk too much, and also those who talk too little. he loathes unwarranted smiles, excessive selflessness, and countless other things. bakugo hates a lot; that's no secret. in fact, he might hate people who pretend to be perfect the most. katsuki bakugo is rough in all aspects. he's extremely athletic and smart, with an abrasive and improvement-hungry personality that is loud and unyielding. he doesn't need anyone in his life to set him apart or help him on his journey to the top.

however, you're different. not in a way that he needs you, but you might be the only person he wants with him. people cock their heads in surprise when they see you two together, wondering how anyone could manage a conversation with bakugo without being screamed at. whispers circulate about the two of you. "they must be dating," denki whispers to mina, who nods quickly in agreement. the yellow-haired teen leans on mina's desk, side-glancing at the unlikely pair. "i mean," he continues, "he gets pissed if i so much as glance at him the wrong way. but look!" his finger points across the room to you, standing in front of bakugo's desk, smiling and chatting during the break. the craziest part might be that bakugo isn't even glaring at you; he's just listening with a straight face — something not even kirishima has experienced.

"i think they're talking about us again," you say, feeling slightly dejected about the not-so-subtle stares from mina and denki. they were wrong, though. you and bakugo aren't dating — just old childhood friends who have grown and gotten stronger together. you watched bakugo pull himself out of his ego and mature, while he watched you solidify your resolve and overcome obstacles.

"eh, let 'em… annoying ass extras," katsuki grumbles, his regular hardened glare returning as he glances at the gossipers. you chuckle at your best friend's response, watching as his eyes soften once they land back on you.

you smile at him. "wanna go grab lunch, katsu?"

katsuki groans quietly as he stands up. "yeah, sure." you follow him out of the classroom, walking down the hallway in silence. you let yourself mull over the whispers of "dating" and your names in the same sentence. on one hand, it was crazy. both of you have your own goals and ambitions, with no time to waste on love. you are strong, driven to grow even more powerful to save others. romance has no place in a hero's life.

and yet… a part of you aches. maybe it's the hopeless romantic in you or just wishful thinking, but being with katsuki makes your face feel hot. the thought of not being there for him as more than a friend stings, your stomach twisting in knots at the idea.

"hey, whatcha thinkin' about?" katsuki's raised eyebrow and intense crimson eyes bore into you. "better not be somethin' stupid again," he says as you line up for food.

you panic slightly; katsuki has a knack for picking your brain better than you'd like. "oh, it's nothing! just thinking about how a lot has happened lately." you gulp, glancing at the menu. "sounds delicious! i can't wait to eat!" you laugh, hoping he won't notice it's fake.

"but it's your least favorite food," katsuki's eyebrows furrow. "you spit it out once in fifth grade and complained the rest of the afternoon about how it 'ruined your day.'" your mouth goes dry, mind blank. "i don't know what you're thinkin', but," he pokes you between the eyebrows, "everything's gonna be fine, 'kay? so don't go thinkin' you're all alone and shit — 'cause i'm always right by ya, idiot." his eyes drift away. "now let's go grab somethin' else. don't wanna hear ya complain later."

butterflies rampage in your stomach. are childhood best friends supposed to make you feel this way? the way katsuki bakugo does as he grabs your wrist and leads you down the hallway? your other childhood friend izuku doesn't, so maybe this is different. maybe the way you feel is different. or maybe, you two were just born to be attached at the hip.

© dolimiu kinda wrote this half awake so sorry if it is straight garbage !!!! but hope u enjoy anonnie, congrats on being my first request >< lots of love 2 u and all the other readers :3

[ghcstao3]

something something civilian AU. something something johnny ends needing an ambulance after breaking his leg and they put him on painkillers that make him woozy and even more bold with his speech than usual.

something something the emt that helps him is tommy, and johnny flirts with him the entire way to the hospital because all he’s thinking beyond the dulling pain in his leg and the floaty feeling of his body is wow, blond. tommy just laughs him off, used to having been flirted with by patients before, only entertaining johnny’s advances to get him to cooperate with their checks. it’s as he’s wheeled off to get proper care that he asks for tommy’s number, to which tommy shakes his head and says sorry, i’m taken, flashing the gold wedding ring now that his gloves have been removed.

johnny frowns at that. goes quiet a long moment. then asks, d’you have a brother then?

tommy snorts but doesn’t dignify johnny with an answer, merely sending him on his way. but johnny clings onto the fact that this emt never said no to his question.

and apparently tommy telling simon the story later is enough to have him intrigued, only half joking when he offers to visit johnny in hospital before he’d likely be discharged the next day—but tommy won’t give up the man’s name because he’s still professional, and besides, johnny likely wouldn’t remember the interaction just a few hours from when he had made it.

but he does, of course. he still wonders if the emt would do him a kindness and send his brother johnny’s way, but it never happens. what does happen, however, is days later at a grocery store, as johnny struggles on his crutches to reach something on a higher shelf, simon ends up helping him as he is coincidentally wandering down that aisle. johnny thanks him, then does a double take, squinting.

aren’t you the emt that brought me to hospital the other day? i asked about your brother, right? he says. i’m really sorry about—

i’m not, simon interrupts. and just as johnny’s face falls, but i do happen to be said brother.

oh. johnny’s eyes go wide. oh!

simon grins, his smile endearingly shy as it is lopsided. yeah. here, i’ll help you out. in the meantime you can repeat everything you told my brother.

johnny goes bright red, initially sputtering out his responses, not at all confident like he was while on painkillers. but by the end of the shopping trip, as simon helps load bags into johnny’s car (he’d been so lucky to break his non-driving leg), his flirting has returned full swing, this time with simon’s reciprocation. of course, they plan for a first date.

(and years down the line, much to johnny’s chagrin, tommy already has his best man speech fully prepared with the story that started it all.)

[lynnielovestlou]

ellie fucking you in the middle of the night <3

cw: smut , nsfw , men dni , strap usage , reader sits on ellie's face , dom! ellie , sub! reader , kinda vanilla , reader and ellie's relationship is a secret , y/n used (im sorry) , sitting on ellie's face

masterlist

daily click

☆⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠄⠄⠂☆

the problem is, you dont want to keep things casual. you said it because it felt like a thing you should say when you start fucking your best friend. now, you're lying in bed wearing ellie's shirt, wishing shed sneak down the stairs and crawl in with you.

you try to talk yourself out of it so many times. you'd already almost got caught once. but your body doesn't care and neither does your heart. you want her hands in your hair, her warm skin against your own.

which is why you creep through a dark house and up the stairs, keeping to the edges to avoid any creaking that might wake up joel. one peek into his room at the top of the stairs and you see him sprawled like a starfish. your lips curve up at the sight and then you very, very gently shut his bedroom door before padding down to the secondary bedroom as the opposite end of the hallway.

the door is closed and no light shines from beneath. you twist the handle and walk right in. her curtains are open and ambient light from outside filters in through the massive windows. the door clicks shut behind you and you walk across to the king-sized bed. much like joel, she is all long, muscular limbs stretched out in the middle.

unlike joel, you don't turn away.

you press one knee onto the mattress and crawl in her direction. ellie's breaths are deep, and the entire bed has a faint sandalwood smell. you think you'd settle for just lying here beside her, breathing her in.

instead, you kneel at her side. soaking her in, so relaxed. she looks younger—more carefree—like this.

with one hand, you trail the tip of your fingers over her lips—just like you did every time joel had his back on the two of you. a simple gesture, just to remind her you were there, even if it was for a moment.

ellie's big strong hand flies up, steely fingers wrapping around your wrist, "y/n."

it's not a question. she knows it's you.

"hi."

"what are you doing?" she asks from behind closed eyes.

"touching you."

her lips curve up into a sinful smile, "i thought you wanted to keep things casual in front of joel."

"right." you whisper, "it's just that i thought about it and decided being casual is overrated. i want you to touch me too."

a raspy chuckle spills from her as her green eyes open and dive into your own. chills erupt from the back of your neck, racing down your spine and over your arms.

"so, what now?" she asks beneath a quirked brow.

"i don't know." you suddenly feel nervous. you snuck up there with no plan, only knowing you wanted to be close to her, "do you want me to leave?"

she stares at you extra hard now. it's borderline unnerving. the weight of her stare. the way your stomach flip-flops under her attention. you've never felt this way before.

"no, y/n. i want you up here." her voice is soft and deep as she reaches for you. broad hands circle your waist and you squeal as she hauls you on to her, so you're straddling her torso.

"gonna need you to be quiet, baby." she murmurs as her palms slide up over your quads, tips of her fingers dipping inside your underwear at your hips.

all you can do is nod, lick your lips, and watch how good her hands look roaming over your body.

"n-now what?" you practically stutter.

"now you're going to hold on tight to that headboard, sit on my face, and try to keep your mouth shut while i make you come."

before you can respond, she's moved you up, yanked the gusset of you panties to the side, and has her tongue in your pussy.

you gasp and fall forward, holding the headboard like she instructed, more out of needing something to hold on to than because you're good at following directions.

your head falls back when her teeth graze you clit. she palms your ass and holds you close, like she's eating her favorite fruit. her eagerness does nothing but drive you even more wild.

"hmmm," you hum, trying to cover for the string of expletives currently sitting on the tip of your tongue. your thighs shake with the strain of holding yourself over her and fingers dig in hard.

ellie pulls away, only to grumble at you in that deep tone. "baby, i said be quiet. and stop being polite. i told you to sit on my face." the hand gripping your underwear yanks you down hard so that you're fully seated.

she sucks your clit and your body bows into him. her hand slides up from your ass, over your hip, stomach, and up to your breast, where she gently caresses you. she holds you. touches you.

she gives your nipple a good, firm twist that has you gasping and grinding against her mouth. all the response you get is a satisfied growl against your core as she continues to lick, and suck, and tease.

you ride her shamelessly. she told you to stop being polite, and so you do. you lose yourself in the sensation, the feel of her skin on yours. the smell of her wrapped around you.

there's something empowering in asking for what you want. to be touched when you want. and you're drunk on that—drunk on her—when everything inside you clenches. when that pressure builds so quickly, so intensely, you can't hold back... you shatter.

you feel like you blew apart into a million little pieces. your skin is hot, your eyelids feel heavy. and as much as you try to stay quiet, you can't.

her hand shoots up over your mouth and you slump into it, using her arm to prop yourself up while you cling to the headboard.

"ellie," you whisper as she moves you down. her limbs are moving and there's fabric rustling around you, but you're too incoherent to keep up, "ellie."

"y/n, baby. i told you to stay quiet."

your brain is too addled to care. "more." you fold yourself over her, dropping your head into the crook of her neck and kissing her there. your teeth graze over the lobe of her ear, and you realize she's removed her boxers while you blacked out. and, she had put on her strap that she conveniently kept in her nightstand.

"more?"

you nod, feeling her throat move against your forehead as he swallows. "more."

her hands move firmly, all business, as she removes your underwear. then she sits up, leaning against the headboard and taking you with her.

you can feel her hard length propped against your ass as she positions the two of you.

her eyes stay on your face as she reaches down to grip the hem of her shirt. the one she gave you to sleep in when she walked you to the guest room door and told you it might help you miss her less. right before she smirked that annoying, i'm-right-and-you-know-it smirk of hers.

she wasn't, though. which is why you're here.

your body coils with anticipation again as ellie's gaze rakes over your bare skin.

her hands roam slowly yet purposefully. over your arms, your collarbones. reading you like braille. you think she's always been able to, and you just didn't know it.

"i'm not sure you can handle more, baby." she kisses your chest as your hands move in tandem, feeling her in a way you didn't get to earlier. "you're not very good at keeping quiet."

"i'll be good," you murmur, grinding your pussy back on her and feeling her steely silicon dick twitch against your ass.

suddenly her lips are on your nipples and your hands are raking through her hair. she reaches between the two of you, urging you up onto your knees, you move obediently, and in return, you're rewarded by the sensation of her faux cock sliding against your pussy.

back and forth. back and forth. your eyes flutter shuts she tortures you. one hand grips your shoulder while the other is fisted around her length. you swivel your hips, feeling her crown notch inside you.

"goddamn, honey. you're even better than i fucking dreamed," she mutters roughly. then she shoves herself in, and you bite your lip to keep yourself quiet. because no one and nothing has ever felt this good.

your eyes snap open as your body adjusts. the light sight of her taking you so roughly has the blood thrumming through your veins at a rapid pace. your heart pounding even harder than before.

you stare at each other. her cock is buried deep inside you his.

"move, y/n. show me how bad you want it."

your pelvis undulates because you do want it. you lift and you drop back down, feeling every thick inch of her as you do. reveling in the way her eyes widen before taking on a more hooded appearance.

what starts off slow and deliberate comes apart at the seams. hands that were searching are now gripping.

breathing that was even is now choppy. everything is hot and damp as you writhe together in silence.

you don't need words. they wouldn't do justice to something that feels like this anyway.

"you're gonna come on my cock now, aren't you, baby?" she growls roughly, breathlessly, against your ear. your body shudders in response. "i can tell. your eyes give it away, even in the dark. then every muscle on you goes all tight. you ride me so damn hard. so eager. so warm. so fucking tight."

you're so full of her. her words. her body. it's too much, and right when youre about to go barreling over that edge again, she kisses you soundly, swallowing the sound of you screaming her name as you come.

with a fist full of your hair, she pumps into you hard.

spilling herself, filling you up thoroughly right as your orgasm rocks you. flays you. leaves you slumped in her arms, desperately trying to catch your breath.

you don't know how long the two of you stay like that. you straddling her lap, her cock snugly inside you, clinging to each other and kissing. slow, languid, deliberate kisses that make your throat ache with their tenderness. eventually they slow and ellie tolls you off her carefully.

always carefully. even when she's rough with you, shes so damn intentional. you feel nothing short of pampered with her. and when she gets up to retrieve a warm washcloth, the point is only driven further home.

"what are you doing?" you breathe the words, trying to stay quiet as she comes to kneel between your splayed legs.

"taking care of you."

the warm cloth swipes over your swollen core and you let out a soft moan. "you don't need to do that."

she continues wiping you gently. "but i want to."

you're struck silent by such a simple sentence.

you lie in ellie's bed, letting her take care of you. and when she's finished, she lifts the covers, crawls in behind you, and holds your body against hers all night long.

[emacrow]

Orphan's baby

Cass was in the middle of helping the Batfam along with Batman raids through the the hidden base they had found underground lab in an abandoned hospital messing with a neon verison of lararus pits liquid.

Red Robin had already adjacked the security and was going through the files with Spoiler. Nightwing and Red hood beating up the guards while batman was battling with the main boss behind it all.

She was with Robin as they were taking some samples and destroying the remaining ones.

She had already crack through most of seemingly important hidden rooms that seem to be hiding completely full with containers full of lararus pits with tags of PH4N70M, and a winter blue colored marble in a container sealed to the safe that was spelling out electricity every minute in the container.

It looked important, but why a marble..?

She broke the container holding the marble, taking most of the lararus pits containers as well while destroying the remaining unaware of the glow that pulsed in the marble.

By the time is was to retreat, everything was in the clear as Spoiler needed to unscramble hidden files that were behind multiples firewalls.

They were at the batcave when they were securing the containers of lararus pits for later sampling, only for the marble to be missing..?

She was sure that she place it in her bat waist pouch, but it wasn't there anymore..

Did she dropped it accidentally while collecting the containers of larausu pits?

It was already too late to check back now, so she decided not to tell anyone yet.

Until 2 months later, she started feeling downright sick nauseated. Right after Dinner of Alfred's infamous lasagna Tuesday, but.. it tasted a bland which was throwing her off completely.

She was only dropping down by the batcave to just self analysis herself.. only to stop walking half way the secure containement holding all the lararus pits that they brought back..

She couldn't stop herself from staring at it with vast hunger before the swirl of neon green filling her vision and blank her conscience out the window..

Only to wake up in her room on her bed, 3 empty containers with not a inch of lararus pits left inside as if it was wiped-or licked clean. She hide the containers under her bed and stood quiet later on as nobody had noticed yet what she had done.

She doesn't know what had happen, but the nausea and sick feeling went away as if nothing happen.

Hopefully it would be a one time thing...

Bruce and his long lines of lawyers had disbanded the GIW completely over the illegal experimentally on sentient aliens of another world which they tried to label them as ghosts until they tried to accused Superman of being one of them which quickly label their entire Government supported work as hate crime and was steady being searched, along finding a couple of missing traumatized teens, adults and children that had vanished the months before in the other hidden labs.

...

....

.....

She had her head in her hands as she silently groaned when she peak her eyes between her fingers to see several dozen empty containers and immediately close her eyes to try and pretend she didn't see them.

It only been 5 months since that incident and she had seemingly got away with it, but then nausea came back with vengeance like no other, and the increased appetite was new, but yet it didn't filled her belly with the bland taste or satisfaction even though she did felt a bit feint during the couple of night patrols despise feeling energized earlier.

Something was wrong and she know it as she went to the only person who could help her right now.

She went to Alfred straight away silently explaining the situation going on because she honestly have no idea was going on with her and she know she loves his food, and the feint spells, and the monsterous appetite and the insatiable need to swallow a crapton of lararus pits with twelve milkshakes and fourteen bags full bat burgers.

Alfred could only stared with his eyebrows raising slowly with every word spilling out of her mouth.

Alfred helped her get examined in the batcave medbay, and 2 hours later the blood result came in.

Case was pregnant, but It was a almost cryptic pregnancy.

Alfred didn't had the equipment out for a ultrasound at all yet, but from he know from Cass it was during the Raiding of that hidden lab and her being in contacted with this 'marble' that seemingly disappeared after she grabbed it.

That was 7 months ago, but luckily Alfred caught it in time before it literally became a cryptic pregnancy.

Oh the ultrasounds pics of the little baby fetus with his fast beating lil heart beating were precious as he got tiny misty eyes a bit compare to Cass's awestruck look staring at the screen then back at her belly.

He does help get extra vitamins pills, and call her off of Crime duty until further noticed . Bruce on the otherhand was concerned but all he got from Alfred was the You Better not investigate this because I have major blackmail of embarrassing toddler photos against you.

This is Alfred moment that he been waiting for since Bruce became a new adult but not yet sired a baby at the Wayne Manor at all. He is savoring this for the memories and scapebooking time. He is cranking opened that forgotten but clean baby nursery of forlorning hopes.

2 months later, By the time Cass was ready to deliver the baby on February 11, and at February 12th, 12:01am.

Wren Alf Cain was born premature yet crying softly into the word.

[ilyhaitanii]

both ends || toji f. kong s.

nsfw. pure filth sorry. i had a dream abt this and i needed to write about it // oral (m!receiving) implied overstim (?) penetration, reader is implied to be married to shiu not proofread sawrry

shiu’s not very fond of sharing you. his sweet little fawn, twitching and sobbing underneath his closest friend makes him a tad bit angry. sure, it’s not your fault inherently. shiu did agree to this, but something about watching the two of you fuck like rabbits and shiu’s inability to even whisper in your ear or tuck your hair behind your ear has him feeling a bit desperate.

there’s a obvious difference in the way toji and shiu fuck. neither one is very rough, but the manner in which how they handle you, the filthy words that spew from their lips come out in very different tones. shiu’s is light, playful even especially when he gets a good look at your fucked out face, he grins and chuckles. and toji? oh he’s a whole different breed.

his words are the dirtiest that flith could be. worse than gum stuck to the bottom of your shoe. he never says anything inherently degrading, but it’s that sultry, raspy voice of his that just makes even the simplest of words sound downright filthy.

“there ‘ya go, mama. stick your tongue out for me,” toji’s fingers slide against the warm muscle of your mouth, your tongue instantly swirls around his digits. the muffled, muted sounds of your mewls has shiu’s cock throbbing. it’s almost painful how hard the man is.

“atta girl. let’s keep that pretty mouth busy, yeah?” the thin curl of toji’s lips has your pussy fluttering around his thick cock. the scar on his lip makes him ten times more attractive. not to mention the scars that covers his chest and biceps. you try not to ogle too much at his body as you don’t want him to laugh at you again. shiu chimes in,

“push it down more. she’s cuter like that.” the older gentleman stands up, finally having enough. he needs to feel you against him. even if its against the tips of his fingers or the palms of his hands, he needs you. “her throat gets real tight. makes you wanna put other things in here, huh?”

he doesn’t exactly speak to toji. shiu’s eyes are locked onto your hazy eyes. a soft hand comes down to your forehead, wiping any sweat and stray hairs away. toji chuckles, pinching your sides as his fingers delve deeper into your mouth.

“why don’t ‘ya turn her around and shove something in there. would save me fromm having to choke her.” toji’s quick to flip you onto your tummy as you land with a small huff. he pulls your hips flush to his, cock pushing itself back inside your soaked pussy.

“good idea,” shiu mutters, watching as you shakily put your weight into your arms. toji’s quick to pin your arms behind you, pressing your body into a harsh arch. when you whine and struggle against him, shiu’s hands tangles itself into your hair.

“open wide, honey.” he says in a soft voice as his tip leaks pre onto your lips. you open big and wide for your husband, enjoying the heavy feeling of him inside you. behind you, toji wastes no time, nails dug into your skin.

he snaps his hips back and forth, fucking deep into your soaping hole. it’s downright disgusting how thick the white rinf around the base of his cock is. shiu on the other hand is too distracted by how hot and wet your mouth is. your to gue swirling around his shaft, pressing the tip of your tongue against his tip makes shiu go wild.

you can feel the slight brush of his balls against your chin when he tilts your head backwards. shiu’s cock hits the back of your throat, almost making you gag.

“fuck, baby. you’re so tight,” shiu groans, snaping his hips in and out of your mouth.

“you should invite me over more often, shiu.” toji grunts, his thrusts becoming sloppier. he tugs you closer to his hips just as shiu pushes your head down further. you feel like you’re being ripped in half with the way both men want your closer to them. “best fucking pussy i ever had,”

© ilyhaitanii - do not repost, translate, plagiarize

[swampjawn]

Dungeon Meshi episode 21, being heavily dialogue-driven, was pretty straightforward animation-wise and let Ryoko Kui's stunning art speak for itself for the most part, but that doesn't mean that there aren't still some GENERALLY-INSIGNIFICANT-DETAILS-TO-SCRUTINIZE-AT-ARGUABLY-UNNECESSARY-LENGTH.

There was a strong emphasis on hands in this episode, particularly the second half, starting with this cut of Laios resting his on the Minotaur's snout.

The animators have taken this simple little panel (on the right) from the manga (btw, people who know more about this than I do, is there a name for this type of panel, which in film would be called an "insert shot"?)

and turned it into this highly detailed tracking shot that heightens the emotional impact of this moment for Laios. It feels very similar to the shot of Kabru bringing a piece of fish to his mouth that introduced him to the series!

The theme comes up again when Laios does a little bit of blair-witching in the corner after being rejected by house-kitty-pilled Izutsumi,

and once again a few seconds later with this added close-up of Marcille's hand when she tries to read the magical aura of the area.

This one clearly makes heavy use of reference footage, to the point that it almost looks rotoscoped until you notice little details like this line that warps unrealistically at the heel of her palm.

But with smooth, realistic motion like this, little details like that are much less important than the overall feeling of authentic shape and movement. This can be seen in a lot of Masaaki Yuasa's work, which often favors consistent motion and more frames over super polished individual drawings. Here's a thematically appropriate cut from Ping Pong for example:

(This one might actually be rotoscoped, I'm not sure)

If you pause on any individual frame, the lines look wobbly and inconsistent, but it comes together as a whole to create something that feels authentic - real.

The heavy detail in the hand anatomy and the way the skin wrinkles around the knuckles in these cuts feels like a hard departure from Studio TRIGGER's signature heavy stylization, but these realistic cuts have popped up here and there since the start of this show, and I think they fit Dungeon Meshi really well! It can be jarring go straight from wacky bombastic cartoonsmanship to realism, but while it is a show about the hungriest hungriest himbo and his family of weirdos, it's also simultaneously a show about anatomy, ecology, and the horrors of the human mindbrain.

This was expanded from an excerpt from this video where I break down the whole episode, so if you want to continue wallowing in the sludge with me, consider checking out the video!

Thanks for reading.

[ao3commentoftheday]

How many words is considered plagiarism?

I write for a small ship, and there's a new author (new to the ship but not to fanfic, they say) who not only takes inspiration from plots and headcanons of mine and other authors (which could be flattering for the writer and 'two cakes' for the reader actually) but plain reuses the exact same sentences. I am well aware that writers don't own words, but we're talking about full 10ish word long strings of text here. As I said, small ship, so all these 'similarities' stick out like a sore thumb. We never even saw this person commenting on our works. So, should WE say something? And how? It's a peaceful community, and I'd hate it if we broke that peace.

Generally speaking, plagiarism is directly copying something like 10% of another person's work and claiming it as your own. This is very much a ballpark figure and not a number that you can apply to all cases by running the word counts and doing the math. For example, with song lyrics, it's something like 2 or 3 lines.

Whatever the percentage might be in the cases you're talking about, they're very much feeling like plagiarism (rather than an homage, for example) and that's a really negative situation to find yourself in, especially when you want to keep the peace.

You have a handful of options for what to do, I think, and I'll leave it to you which one to choose.

Pretend it's not happening. Bite your tongue, grit your teeth, clench your fists and just be silently annoyed/frustrated/pissed. This will basically be your current situation, continued.

Block their works from showing up on your feed and mute their comments. The person may likely continue with what they're doing, but there won't be any fandom drama about it - at least not because of you. This way, you don't have to see them doing it.

Vague (or not-so-vague) post about it. The fandom is small and the author or a reader will likely be able to identify who you're talking about. Once the author is aware that you're calling them out, they might disappear from the fandom or it might start that drama trashfire you want to avoid. Less likely, they might edit their works and stick around.

Reach out to the author and accuse them of plagiarism one-on-one. This will probably have the same results as option 2, with the addition of maybe having screenshots of your conversation floating around your fandom.

Reach out to the author and welcome them to the fandom. Let them know that you're glad to see another writer for your small ship. Ask if they're new to AO3 and/or how long they've been writing fic. If they're new to fic or to AO3, you can let them know that they're creating an unfortunately bad first impression amongst the other authors. You can then help them navigate their new fandom waters. No fandom drama should result, and you'll get to keep an additional author for your small ship without the current frustrations. With this one, you really do want to go in with an empathizing mindset rather than a manipulative one, otherwise you'll end up screenshotted in drama like in option 4.

You can report their fic(s) to the Policy & Abuse team. PAC keeps all reports confidential, so the author would never know your name. If PAC investigates and decides it's not plagiarism after all, they'll let you know and the author will never know you sent in a report. If they decide it is plagiarism, they'll reach out to the author (still keeping your name out of it) and request that they edit their work to remove the plagiarism. The relevant fics would be hidden from view while the author edits them. If the author fails to edit them, PAC will delete them from the Archive. Whether this results in fandom drama will depend entirely on how the author reacts. Some people will make a public show about "false accusations" and others will quietly edit or delete their works. The quiet authors will likely end up leaving the fandom. The loud ones? Harder to say.

For more information on the PAC side of the plagiarism report (and how to write a report with all of the relevant info), I'll link two answers from PAC takeovers of the blog: answer 1 | answer 2

Are there any options anon has that I might have missed? What would you do in a situation like this?

[b14augrana]

'Scrubber'

Your first time versing Lyon was the match of your dreams

Barça Femení x teen!reader

pt. 1 masterlist

Warnings: lots of happiness and not proofread as per usual … 😁

A/N: i forgot to mention that mapi's knee is 100% functioning and not crippled in this series!!!! i’ve decided to turn it into a series because i love our hay day obsessed reader so much.

also, reader takes alexia’s place in scoring a golazo because our wonderkid needs her time to shine and what better time to shine than in a uwcl final 🪄🪄 (peep my reference in the fic to the gif im so smart)

we need a nickname for little miss wonderkid so i dont constantly refer to her as reader so plz suggest some in my asks 🥹

You were way too nervous for the final to function. You regretted eating breakfast that morning because it felt like you were about to throw it all up.

Honestly, you were even nervous to look at the players. You stood timidly between Lucy and Irene in the line, secretly hoping you never had to leave the tunnel. You did not want the likes of Ada Hegerberg charging towards little 16-year-old you.

You glanced down at the ‘NV15’ written on your wrist in black. That forever-present question of 'What would Vidić do?' loomed in your mind.

He wouldn’t be worrying about anyone on the opposition. He’d just be worried about breaking the Brexit tackle world record and keeping everyone in white as far away from the goal as possible.

The officials at the end of the tunnel signalled to both teams, which meant it was time. As you emerged out of the tunnel, walking out to the sound of a stadium full of culers, you didn’t feel scared. The cheers from all around the stadium deafened you, but also made you feel an insane amount of pride.

As you stood beside your teammates, the Barcelona anthem blasted on the speakers and the crowd became a choir as they sung the anthem loud and proud. Your attention was in the stands, looking at all the people that had come to watch. You almost teared up when you spotted a little girl and her older brother wearing a jersey with your name on it. Your name. Just having a mascot blew you away, so seeing people you probably weren’t much older than, wearing jerseys with your name on the back, was a crazy concept.

It made you think about the future. It made you hope that one day, you’d grow up to be some little girl’s idol the way Vidić is yours.

“Get ready to shake hands, (Y/N),” Irene reminded you, noticing that you looked a bit spaced out. You brought yourself back to the present and nodded, sticking your hand out to shake the long line of Lyon hands.

When Alexia asked you to bend down and hold the match day pennant, it almost felt like blasphemy. Your mouth was slightly agape as she thrusted it into your hand. “But why me?”

“My knee is no good, it’s better if I stand,” she explained.

“But why m–”

“Just hold it, nena!” Alexia laughed, getting back in the line. You crouched down, holding the pennant in one hand and bracing the ground with the other as you smiled gingerly for the camera.

As soon as the photographer lowered his camera, you sprung to your feet and gave the pennant back to Alexia. “There you go, capi!” you said happily, motioning to Renard who was approaching with their own pennant to exchange. Alexia laughed and patted you on the back, mumbling a quick ‘gracías’ before turning away.

You walked over to the bench and shrugged your jacket off, folding it neatly for one of the team management to take to the locker room later on. With one last meaningful glance at your wrist, you ran onto the field to take your position. Irene was with you in the center and Lucy covered the right while Ona took care of the left. Jona had told you to be prepared for Mapi to come on, so you kept that in mind too.

As soon as the whistle was blown, you were relieved to see that Aitana, Mariona, Caro and Salma had already gotten things under control. That gave you time to scope out the Lyon front three and think about how to handle them.

You thought about what Lucy said. ‘Don’t get hurt trying to do extreme tackles.’

At the end of the day, it all came down to instinct. When Dumornay started running at you with the ball, her feet moving too quick for you to focus on, you knew what you were going to do next had to be purely instinctual. This wasn’t the match for calculated tackles.

It was a fearless tackle. It wasn’t even much of a tackle, actually; you had just gotten to the ground right in her path and made contact with the ball first before she even touched you. When she did touch you, the top of her boot got caught on your abdomen, knocking her over. It was the consequence of her own speed and momentum.

With the ball at your feet, you did what you always did best — kick it as hard as you could and hope it goes well. You must’ve hoped extremely hard or hoped to the right deity, because the ball landed right at Aitana’s feet. Not an inch in front.

With one touch, she had beaten her marker. When Aitana got the ball, it was almost always a goal, and this time was no different; before you could even register that your ball had been kept in play, let alone found a player of your own, it had beaten Endler’s desperate hands and hit the back of the net. The stadium has the loudest atmosphere you’ve ever experienced after Aitana’s goal.

She came running to you, her arms outstretched. You threw yourself into her, hugging her tightly. The rest of the team came shortly after, suffocating you two in a big team hug. You heard some muffled voices praising you and Aitana, but you were too stunned by how quickly it all happened to even register their words. There were many pats on your back and side hugs before the game reset and you were back to your centerback position, kissing the writing on your wrist.

“Aparejo increíble (Y/N), and the pass! Magnífico!” Irene said, pulling you close and ruffling your hair (to which you huffed and slicked it back down) before running back to her position.

You didn’t actually intend to make that pass, so was it that special? Aitana did score from it, but she just has magical feet.

The match had flown by, both teams only separated by one goal at the 90th minute. Lyon were desperate for a goal. Barcelona were desperate for another. Many changes had been made, including Mapi and Pina coming on.

You watched as Diani came down the left wing and somehow managed to beat Lucy and Mapi, which meant you were going to have to try tidy up at the back and not let Diani get to Cata, the last hope.

At first, you just jockeyed. You held her off and tried to delay her, which worked; her stepovers were useless and she couldn’t get past you by tapping and running… but then she did.

She took a touch just wide of you, giving herself heaps of space to dribble up to goal if she was quick enough to retrieve the ball. The big underlying issue was, your jockeying had led you two up to the box. You could either get a card and risk her scoring from a penalty or worse — not do anything and let her put it in. You would rather break your Hay Day login streak than let that happen.

As she lurched forwards to get another touch on the ball, it was like everything was in slow motion. Time slowed down as you extended your leg and thrusted your entire body forwards, cushioning your fall by sliding on your arm across the damp grass and towards the ball. You closed your eyes as she got closer to your face, hoping that if you didn’t see it happen, the collision wouldn’t hurt as much. If this tackle went wrong, it would be over for you, for Barça.

Diani’s opening had been a gift from God himself, so you prepared yourself to see her celebrating happily, the ball rolling into the net when you opened your eyes, but when you finally did open them, the ball wasn’t in the net. Diani wasn’t celebrating.

She was lying on her chest, scrambling to get to her feet. The ball was out, discarded somewhere near the barriers as a ball boy passed a new one to Lucy to throw in. Cheers had rung through the stadium upon your last-ditch tackle, but you had been too distracted to pay attention to them. You had been too focused on trying to execute the perfect tackle that would either make or break the game.

The only thing you guys needed was another goal to really seal the deal. Lyon were getting dangerously close, you needed a goal.

When Lucy had played the ball in, you moved a bit further up the field, watching the play. You noticed Caro receiving the ball, and then you noticed the absence in the middle of the box. You scanned for Aitana or Pina or anybody, but they were all marked by figures like Renard and Carpenter or in other words, brick walls that were not letting them in any time soon.

It was all, pure, instinct. You ran– no, sprinted up the field, flailing your hands in the air. “Caro, Caro!” you screamed, motioning to the middle of the box, begging for a cross.

The cross she delivered from the right wing was set to land just in front of you. You couldn’t reach it for a volley and you sure as hell couldn’t bicycle kick it in. It was travelling fast and getting nearer by the second, but that was the advantage.

Without a second thought, you jumped up. Your body was basically horizontal in the air as you flew forwards, forehead connecting with the ball. It was a shame you couldn’t watch it shoot past Endler, burying itself right in the bottom left corner. You flew into the net as well, and the only way you realised you had scored was when you sat up and looked to your side to see the ball. That’s also the only way you realised you were in the goal.

You had never stood up faster or yelled louder. You zipped past Endler and ran down the field towards the nearest camera. Your first goal of your career couldn’t have been more perfect, so you needed a celebration to match.

Aitana appeared by your side, and as you two ran side-by-side, you pointed to the people in the stands. It was a simple but meaningful celebration; it was the same celebration Vidić had once done, and you remembered it vividly. In fact, it was one of your favourite moments.

You ran to the corner flag where the rest of your team were, and you all fell into another affectionate huddle. Lucy squeezed your side. “You’re in the wrong sport, I think you’d do well as a professional diver!” she jeered, having to yell her words over the noise. You grinned at her and hugged the woman tightly right before being instructed to reset.

The ball had barely started moving again before the referee blew the final whistle. Everyone from the sidelines jumped from their seats and ran onto the field, and the people on the field ram towards your goal. Cata booted the ball into the air and jumped on top of the big hug, and then Pina followed. There was singing and dancing and flags being thrown and tears and hugs for days.

It was happy moment upon happy moment for everyone as it all sunk in — you had finally, finally beat Olympique Lyonnais in a Champions League final for the first time in your history. You had helped beat Lyon and make history with this team, and you had won your first ever Champions League and quadruple, but you had to give credit where it was due.

You knew if you never had a role model like Nemanja Vidić, nothing would’ve happened the way it did for you against Lyon.

Being a 16-year-old girl with such a fiery passion to defend and hold it down at the back wasn’t easy. There wasn’t many defenders that played for the badge the way Vidić did. The reason you loved him so much was because he exerted such an immense sense of pride and dedication to his club, and that was the type of defender you wanted to be.

That was the type of defender you had been today.

You couldn’t believe Keira and Patri when they ran up to you saying that the officials wanted to see you so you could receive the Player of the Match award once again. Your jaw was dropped and you went red as they basically dragged you away from the locker rooms and towards the officials. Your cheeks were still red from embarrassment as you took the photo.

You learned that you couldn’t just slink away into the locker rooms after such a big match, so you spent a solid 10 minutes talking to fans all around the stadium. It was a bit awkward for you at first because most of them were either as old as Alexia or literally your age, but you figured you’d have to get used to it.

The best part about the whole day was, when you eventually got back to the locker room and picked your phone up, you had reached level 300 on Hay Day.

As if one major achievement wasn’t enough.