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sundrop-writes · 2 months

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Careful - Chapter Two

(Dad)Spencer Reid x (Mom)Fem!Reader

Chapter Two: Liar

Why should I deny what's all at once, so crystal clear?

Summary:

Spencer is eager to talk to you - to find out if your son is actually his. But there are more important matters at hand, like the fact that you might be the next target of a serial killer who is actively stalking single mothers.

The two of you get locked in a battle of wills when you stubbornly refuse his protection and Spencer remains determined to keep you safe.

Dad!Spencer Reid x Mom!Fem!Reader. Exes to Lovers. Angst and Smut.

Word Count: 8,900

Criminal Minds Masterlist | AO3 Link | Series Masterlist

Detailed warnings and author's notes below the cut.

Warnings: again, general warnings for a Criminal Minds episode - mentions of killing/murder, mentions of the reader being a target for a killer; mentions of the reader buying and using a vibrator (does not take place during the fic, more so mentioned as the reality of the ‘sex life’ of a single mom); the reader and Spencer parted on very bad terms (but the details of the situation are not yet revealed); the reader is very angry towards Spencer; the reader and Spencer argue; the reader is in denial that she is the target of a killer; there is some mention of Sebastian having similar hair to Spencer - but I don’t want that to describe or exclude the reader’s race because in the next chapter, there is a mention of Sebastian having the reader’s skin tone; mention of the reader ‘shoving’ Spencer out of anger (not hard enough to cause harm); mention of the reader owning a gun (registered with gun training) as a form of self defense; mention of the reader character celebrating a birthday - but there is no mentions of specific dates or months when the fic is set, so you can easily imagine that this takes place around your birthday (aside from mentions of holidays or seasonal weather); mentions of JJ x Will; JJ talks about her trauma regarding dogs after being attacked in 2x15; this ends in another flashback, this time including flashback sex (smut); Spencer cuts off foreplay to give the reader a birthday present - mentions of heated kissing and some groping; Spencer calls the reader ‘Princess’ (not during sex - in the context of ‘I am here to serve you like royalty’); the smut basically consists of Spencer eating the reader out. And I think that’s it for this chapter.

A/N: Okay so something I did not intend to happen - a lot of this chapter is from JJ's perspective. It just naturally started happening while I was writing it, and it was really interesting to me to write about Spencer and the reader's relationship through her eyes (especially to keep the conflict between them vague to the audience, because JJ doesn't know the details of what happened), and it's not something I did intentionally, but I really loved how it shaped the chapter, so I kept it in. Also, I really wanted to include a lot of JJ x Spencer friendship and comfort moments in the fic because (as a lot of people in the fandom have discussed) - the writers love to have the characters say that JJ and Spencer are best friends, but they don't often show it. They just show a lot of conflict between them. So I wanted to show the potential of their friendship. And I had a lot of fun exploring that. So - I hope you guys enjoy the second chapter, and definitely hope to see you come back for chapter three!!!

...

When you heard someone knock on your door, you thought it was a delivery.

You had ordered Sebastian some new educational coloring books, and some new CDs with Mozart concertos to fall asleep to, because he was getting bored of his current ones. You often felt like you couldn’t keep up with him - Sebastian was so damn smart, and you always tried to provide him with the best resources to learn. Even if he was getting to a point where he was asking for high school level chemistry text books and actually seemed to understand the material in them and you were confused about how he could comprehend any of it.

The package also could have been the new vibrator you had ordered. You weren’t sure if that package was small enough to be left in the mailbox or not. You had to roll your eyes when you thought about how pathetic your sex life had been since having Sebastian. But you couldn’t risk bringing random men through the house just for sex when you had Seb around. So battery power and smut novels, it was.

“Sorry!”

You called out, hoping the delivery person would wait, as you raced to get to the door. You hoped they wouldn’t just slip one of those ‘failed to deliver’ notes into your door handle and force you to run an extra errand with a kid under your arm. You tripped over a toy truck and cursed yourself for procrastinating cleaning up (again).

“Sorry, I almost didn’t hear you. I was-”

‘I was in my office, in the back of the house.’

The sentence died off on your tongue when you finally fumbled the door open - your mouth going numb from shock when you saw him.

Spencer Reid.

The father of your child, the man you had once loved.

Your heart raced inside your chest, your body so overwhelmed so quickly that you couldn’t even decide on an emotion.

Happiness. Joy. Lust. Longing. Sadness. Relief.

Shock.

You lingered on shock for a while as you stared at him, your eyes locked on the sight of him - wondering what the hell he was doing standing on your porch. How did he know where you lived? Why was he here?

Was he here because of Sebastian? Was he angry? He had to be angry that you hadn’t told him about Sebastian for all of these years. He had to be angry that you had given birth to his child and not told him about it.

You flickered back to lust for a moment as your eyes traced over him.

He looked good.

Somehow, he had grown up so much in just four years. He had gone from a gangly, boyish man to a full blown man. But he was somehow still so much the same. His hair had grown out a lot since you had last seen him - instead of the neatly combed, short cut you had last seen him with, it was downright wild. The chocolate brown locks were sprawling out into the thick curls that you had come to see sprouting from your own son’s head. It wasn’t a look that you were used to on Spencer, but it looked damn good on him.

He was wearing his usual leather messenger bag - probably the exact same one from years ago. And he clearly had the same dress sense, but these clothes in particular made you want to jump his bones. A lavender cardigan that complimented his skin tone so well - and his usual button up shirt and tie, along with his usual gray slacks.

You desperately wanted to blame the sting of attraction that you felt for him on the recent lack of male suitors in your life; the fact that you hadn’t gotten laid in a long time. But you knew it was something else, too. Your previous attraction to him - the fact that because you had slept with Spencer before, you could still feel the ghost of his hands and tongue on your body.

How did he look so good?

He made you feel like a slob in your casual ‘work from home on a random Tuesday’ Mom clothes. If it had been your choice, he definitely wouldn’t be seeing you for the first time in years while you were wearing jeans and a sweatshirt that you were sure had raspberry juice stained on it somewhere, and eyeliner that you had slopped in between traffic lights in the car that morning.

(You hated it.)

“Y/N,”

He finally broke the silence, speaking your name in that honey-sweet way.

Unfortunately, it brought you rocketing back to that night all those years ago. Your stomach dropped, and you felt like you were standing in that apartment all over again, tears in your eyes as you faced down the crashing reality that the best relationship you ever had in your life was over.

This chased out that tiny splash of lust and brought on a whole new wave of confusing emotions.

Anger. Rage. Sadness. Bitterness. More longing. Regret.

Like your brain was a spin wheel, it whirled around for a few hectic moments, and then - you landed somewhere between anger and pure rage.

And that was when you finally spoke.

“Spencer Reid.” You hissed out his name like it was pure venom, your neck aching as the blood pumped hard through your aorta.

Immediately, Spencer’s features fell from looking at you with nostalgic fondness, and fear took over his face.

“What the hell are you doing here?” You asked fiercely, this question rocketing back to the forefront of your mind.

Spencer opened his mouth, seemingly to answer this question, and the rage pumped harder in your system. You found that suddenly, you didn’t want to hear whatever it was that he had to say.

You stepped through the door, easily stepping into his personal space as you came onto the porch. Without even thinking, you gave him a hard shove in the middle of his chest as you spoke your next words - much louder than you intended.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” You screeched.

You let your emotions carry your actions before any sense of logic or common decency could kick in. It was resentment and heartache that you had locked away four years ago - and apparently, it had been aging like wine, only becoming more potent with time.

“You think that you can just magically show up in my life again after I specifically told you not to contact me?” You screamed. “Do you think that order has a fucking expiration date on it?”

You gave him another hard shove. Perhaps expecting to prompt an answer out of him, or wanting to shove him off the porch entirely and get him out of your life once again. Which of those it was, even you weren’t sure.

Spencer just looked at you with wide-eyed shock. Clearly, for once in his life, at a loss for words.

“You better have a good fucking reason for showing up here!” You screeched, your voice becoming so loud that it wore out your throat.

“Look, Y/N, I-” He stuttered out.

“Don’t say my name.” You hissed, cutting him off. “Don’t say my name like we’re friends.”

You glared at him, crossing your arms over your chest, and Spencer shoved his hands into his pockets, now finding himself utterly speechless.

He definitely was not expecting this kind of reception.

The two of you became locked in an icy staring contest, neither of you speaking. Spencer found his throat too dry, and for once, his head far too empty. You were simply too angry and too stubborn to speak in those moments.

This stalemate was only broken up when JJ walked around the corner.

“Spence, Hotch just told me that the first woman doesn’t even match the-”

“JJ!” You cried out her name happily, your entire demeanor changing when you saw her.

She grinned, completely forgetting whatever news she had to report to Reid as you practically flew off the porch and ran to meet her. JJ eagerly opened her arms to hug you, and you squeezed her with all the warmth and kindness of an old friend.

Spencer felt a pang of jealousy that he wasn’t being greeted with as much affection. He knew that the last argument between the two of you had been bad, but he didn’t know it had left such a distinct impression on you. He didn’t know it had been enough to make you hate him.

When you pulled away from JJ, you looked between her and Spencer, and then it suddenly struck you.

If Spencer wasn’t here alone, that meant this wasn’t personal. He wasn’t just here to see you over some lost love, or - maybe he didn’t know about Sebastian at all. You felt a pang of guilt twist your gut because of that.

“What - what are you guys doing here?” You asked, now entirely confused, directing the question toward JJ.

JJ looked toward Spencer, and according to his ill-concealed frown, his reunion with you had not gone well. She doubted that you would take the news that you were possibly being hunted by a killer well on top of that.

“Is it alright if we come inside?” JJ asked, her voice tentative and soft. It was the same voice she usually used with victims and their families.

“Yeah.” You said, knowing there must be something big that you were missing, and hoping that you would be filled in soon enough. “I’ll put some coffee on.”

You walked back up the few steps of the porch and breezed right past Reid. You didn’t even spare a glance in his direction as you went back in through the open front door, leaving it open for the two of them with the expectation that they would close it behind themselves.

“So - I take it things didn’t go well?” JJ whispered to Spencer as she moved up onto the porch.

“Not quite.” Spencer mumbled in return before moving into the house, waiting for her to follow.

This made JJ even more curious about what had gone down between you and Spencer all those years ago.

What could have possibly made you so cold and distant toward him?

But she couldn’t just come out and ask. They had a job to do. They were there to ensure your safety against a man who had already killed five women and orphaned five children.

JJ walked into the house and closed the door behind her. She wasn’t surprised that she nearly tripped over a plastic toy truck in the entryway. Even though your son didn’t seem to be here (it was far too quiet for a small boy to be around), this was definitely a house where a child lived.

The first space that was visible to her eye - the living room, was clearly a space that belonged to a young child. There was a large, colorful play mat underneath the coffee table, and a few toys scattered over across the floor, showing that he clearly liked to have hands on play. In the corner, there was a child-sized desk with a small chair, which seemed to be surrounded by art supplies, and advanced textbooks? Some of them opened and were dotted with bright, colorful stickers. One glance told JJ that the reading material very advanced for his age clearly belonged to him.

So he very likely was Spencer’s son.

She wasn’t sure why, but that did bring a cluster of joy through her. Likely because she knew he would be so excited to have a child of his own.

JJ couldn’t help but to notice that many of the toys were Paw Patrol themed - it was a favorite show of Henry’s, too. In the back of her mind, she wondered if your son and Henry might be friends.

“Ugh, I’m so sorry.” You huffed, rushing around with your arms half full of toys now - distracted from getting the coffee, as you had mentioned. You were clearly rushing to pick up some of the mess now that you had realized how it appeared in the eyes of your ‘guests’. “All the - stuff.”

You hesitated to say ‘toys’. Clearly, you didn’t want to bring up the subject of your son, even though the evidence of him was so visible all around. You didn’t want to give Spencer the smallest opening to start asking questions about him. It was something you wanted to avoid speaking about for as long as possible.

Spencer looked at you with a mournful look on his face as you dodged around him, purposefully avoiding eye contact while you picked up a coloring book and a handful of crayons off the couch. You still refused to look his way at all as you rushed off to stash the items away somewhere.

Clearly, he wanted to ask you more about your son, and simply ask that penultimate question: was he the father?

But now wasn’t the right time.

“It’s alright.” JJ assured you. “You can just come sit down. We really need to talk to you.”

You heaved out a sigh, defeated in your effort to clean up, and then came back from one of the other rooms. (JJ could only assume you had stashed the toys in a playroom or a closet, because much like her own home, all areas had become a domain for toys and playtime). You motioned for them to sit on the couch, and you scooted over a rocking chair from the other side of the room to sit in front of them, blocking the shut-off TV on the other side.

“So, what is it?” You asked, clearly eager and curious to know what they were doing in your home - why they had contacted you now after so many years apart.

JJ and Spencer exchanged a look, and with a gentle nod from him, JJ took the lead.

“Well, um… there’s no easy way to say this, but we believe that you might be in danger.” She told you, introducing the topic gently, while wanting to be honest and direct. “Perhaps you’ve seen it on the news? But if you haven’t… several single mothers have been killed in the area recently, and we have reason to believe that you might be the killer’s next target.”

You looked at her, entirely observant, quietly taking in her words. Your face was still and expressionless, and JJ was unsure if you were going to take this calmly and logically - if you were going to panic after you had fully absorbed the news, if you were going to cry.

After a moment of silence - you burst out laughing. Your laughter was harsh and nervous, a sound that cut through the air like the rip of a chainsaw. Clearly, it was the stark opposite of someone taking the news with tears.

“Oh my god.” You sighed, taking a breath from the non-humorous laughter. “You know that you didn’t have to make up some excuse just to come and see me, right?”

Spencer’s face curled into a deep frown. He was upset that you weren’t taking this seriously. JJ found herself in shock. Usually when people found out they were potentially on the radar of a killer, they were paranoid, afraid, questioning why.

But it was very rare to see denial.

She did take notice of the fact that you didn’t immediately ask about what kind of evidence or reasoning they had to believe that you were the killer’s next target. Perhaps if your brain let you assess that reasoning for yourself and found it to be valid, then fear would take over. And you couldn’t let that happen. So this laughter, this posturing and not taking things seriously - it was an unconscious way to protect yourself from that fear.

But JJ could only theorize about that.

“I did miss you, JJ.” You said, very pointedly looking at her while you said it. “But you could have just sent me an email or something.”

You continued avoiding Spencer’s harsh gaze as he bored holes into the side of your face with his intense, intrusive eyes.

“Look, this is serious-” Spencer began, and you cut him off.

“Okay.” You shrugged. “Let’s say for argument’s sake that there is someone trying to kill me,”

You spoke of this lightly, the words entirely condescending on your lips, as though Spencer’s theory was entirely wild and imaginative to begin with.

JJ saw the movement in his jaw as he grinded his teeth out of the corner of her eye, and she was surprised that he let you continue.

“I have an alarm system that I set every night before I go to bed.” You informed them. “I am a proud gun owner. I have a registered revolver that I keep in a lock box beside my bed and I renew my gun training every single spring.” You told them, not seeming the least bit worried at the idea of a killer hunting you down. “If someone wants to kill me, let them try. I’m sure you guys have much better ways to spend your time than sitting around here, chatting with me when there are people out there, actually in danger. People who probably need your help.”

You said this, trying to dismiss them. And then you moved to get up from your seat, looking to escape the conversation entirely. But once again, Spencer stopped you.

“That’s it?” He fired back, entirely indignant, standing from his place on the couch.

This caused you to roll your eyes and let out a hiss, your lungs deflating like an annoyed balloon as you paused in the middle of the room.

“Yes, that’s it.” You groaned back. “Look, I know it’s your job to see problems everywhere, but-”

“It’s my job to protect people.” Spencer replied, cutting you off. “And-”

“Funny!” You scoffed, your voice escalating in volume. It had turned into a full-blown argument now - you were entirely uncaring that JJ was there to witness it; Spencer was locked in your sight like the crosshairs of a scope, and you were ready to fire. “You give a shit about ‘protecting’ me now, but what the fuck happened four years ago?”

You glared harshly at Spencer, and he locked his jaw, staring right back. It turned into a poisonous silence as neither of you spoke - he didn’t have a good answer for this question. And it made JJ all the more horribly curious about what had happened between the two of you. But she didn’t need to be a psychic to sense that the two of you needed some privacy.

“Do… do you mind if I go get myself a glass of water?” She asked, tentatively standing up from her place on the couch.

“I’ll get it.” You huffed out, moving to leave the room.

“It’s okay.” JJ told you. “I can get it for myself. Just point me in the right direction.”

You motioned toward the kitchen and JJ left, and she heard Spencer hiss out something about you being stubborn, which turned into another cluster of voices. The argument turned even more personal and sour now that the both of you didn’t have a witness.

When JJ made her way into the kitchen, she was happy to see that your backyard was full of toys. A pair of sliding glass doors let her peek out to see a colorful swing set and a large playhouse, and a scattering of other toys meant that your son obviously spent a lot of time outside. She smiled to herself, trying to ignore the rising, angered sound of voices from the other room as she found a glass in one of the cabinets. When she moved to the refrigerator’s water dispenser, something along the way caught her eye.

A vase of fresh flowers was sitting on the counter.

White carnations.

It made her stomach churn ominously. It felt too perfect to be a coincidence.

She abandoned her half-full glass and grabbed the vase, walking back to the living room with it.

“You just can’t accept help from anybody, can you? How can you not understand that your life is in danger here? This man is not going to stop until-” Spencer ranted on.

He was still trying to convince you to take the threat seriously - but you were still boiling with rage over the past, blind to anything else.

“I can’t accept anyone’s help?” You scoffed, crowding into his personal space to hiss the words closer to him. “That is so rich coming from someone who-”

JJ cleared her throat loudly, cutting you off.

“Spence.” She got his attention from the intense gaze he was keeping on you - anger hot in his eyes even though he was staring heavily at your lips.

When Spencer looked over and saw the vase in JJ’s hands, his entire face shifted in a blink. His expression went from tight-knit anger and annoyance to ‘shit-your-pants’ worry. The danger went from being theoretical to being very real in that moment.

“Where did these flowers come from?” Spencer asked.

“What?” You gaped, so entirely confused.

“Where did you get the flowers?” He asked, rephrasing the question, his tone more urgent and demanding now.

“Why does that matter?” You replied, exasperated. You didn’t see how it was at all relevant.

“All of the women who were killed received these exact same kind of flowers within days of their death.” JJ told you. “Do you have any idea who sent them?”

“I thought my mother did.” You shrugged. “There was no name on the card. It just said ‘Happy Birthday’. She didn’t get to see me in person for my birthday, she’s traveling right now. She’s one of the only people who would send me flowers for my birthday.”

“Yes, but your mother knows that your favorite flowers are lavender and baby’s breath. Why would she send these?” Spencer replied.

Naturally, he remembered your favorite flowers.

You couldn’t get stuck on that, though. Instead, you pondered the question he posed.

Why would your mother send you white carnations without even signing the card?

It wasn’t something you had thought about. At the time, you had just thought it was considerate, and sweet. When you had called her to thank her for the flowers, you had gotten her voicemail. You had left her a message thanking her. She was away on a singles cruise with shoddy reception and she hadn’t gotten back to you yet.

“They’re just flowers.” You said, letting out another nervous chuckle - but your voice broke over this one.

Obviously the reality of things was truly starting to set in with you.

“We need to set up protective custody for you.” Spencer said, taking out his phone in order to get this done.

“No!” You snapped. “I am not having some random cops follow me around because you think I might be in danger.” You hissed angrily.

Spencer paused and stared you down, debating if he was going to go against your wishes or not, his phone still in hand.

JJ hated the look in Spencer’s eyes. That deep, bitter fear. Whatever had happened between the two of you, there was still enough care lingering there that he would fight for you no matter what. He was terrified for you. He wasn’t going to let you meet the same fate as the other victims. She knew he wasn’t going to let this go.

JJ put the vase down on the coffee table, and turned to you.

“It doesn’t have to be random cops. We can stay with you, in order to-” She started to explain, only to be disrupted by the digital ringtone of your home phone echoing through the house.

You rushed to grab the phone, and JJ heard some of the quiet conversation from you on one end.

“Yeah, okay. Yeah, I’ll be there soon. It’s no problem. Thank you so much. Yeah, twenty minutes. Bye.”

You hung up and then rushed back into the living room - and before either of them could speak further on the matter, you rushed past them. You went to the entryway, taking off your slippers to exchange them for sneakers.

“Look, guys, I would love to stay and hang out, but I have somewhere important to be.” You huffed out.

“Seriously?” Spencer replied, entirely frustrated with you. “This isn’t some tea party. We aren’t just hanging around here for fun. Call whoever that was and tell them that you’re gonna be late. Or call and cancel, or-”

“No!” You yelled back, entirely frustrated with him. “Dammit, Spencer! People have responsibilities, you know! I have responsibilities. I am an adult, I’m not some child you can talk down to. Now get the fuck out of my house so I can lock up, and get to the important things that I have to do. Things that don’t involve wasting my time talking to you.”

You said the last part so snidely, resenting that Spencer’s unexpected visit had been part of your day.

He opened his mouth to argue against this, but JJ put a gentle hand on his shoulder, nudging him toward the door. He sighed and flexed to this movement. He angrily stormed past you to leave through the front door, which he left wide open like a toddler having a tantrum.

You grabbed your keys and your purse from a side table near the door and JJ moved to leave as well. On her way along, she put a gentle hand on your shoulder, capturing your attention.

“We’ll check back in with you later, okay?” She said, using her most gentle, non-confrontational voice.

“Sure.” You easily agreed, unable to be angry with her. “But just call, or something. There’s no need to bang down my door over some stupid flowers. It’s nothing.”

She stepped through the door and you followed. As you used your keys to lock up, you added on:

“I would give you my number, but I’m sure Penelope can find it for you in five minutes flat.”

JJ chuckled at this.

“More like two and a half, I’d say.” She replied - it was a joking tone, but she did truly think this highly of Penelope’s skills.

You smiled over your shoulder at her and she nodded before she began to walk back to the car, where Spencer was already sitting in the passenger’s seat, stewing in his anger.

When she got in beside him, they watched you pull out of the driveway and drive off before either of them spoke.

“What the hell happened between the two of you?” JJ asked, the question finally unleashing from her lips.

“It’s complicated.” Spencer huffed out in reply, tired.

In order to distract himself from all of it, he was staring down at some files in his lap - some of the case files of the other murders that he had pulled out of his bag. He needed something to do to keep his mind from churning more on the fact that you seemed to hate him. He wanted to find a way to protect you now, instead of focusing on the past.

But JJ seemed hellbent on walking backward - getting him to look back on what happened between the two of you.

“I can do complicated.” She said. “We’ve got plenty of time. We should just sit here and wait for her to come back.”

“You should go check in with Hotch.” Spencer told her, dodging around the question once again. “I’ll come back after.”

“After what?” JJ questioned, finding this wording particularly strange.

JJ started the car and pulled away, hoping that you would be safe during the time they didn’t have eyes on you. The UnSub had a particular routine - he liked to stalk his victims for a few weeks before he broke into their homes and killed them. So she hoped that he wasn’t ready to make contact with you yet. She hoped that if he did, your gun and your alarm system would be enough to deter him.

“I - I wanted to get her something nice.” He answered, sounding rather shy about this proclamation. “Like she mentioned, her birthday just passed. And, according to the preschool forms, her son’s birthday was a week ago. I want to get something for him too.”

“They have the same birthday?” JJ asked.

“Not exactly the same, but their birthdays are only five days apart.” Spencer replied. “I missed his birth.” He added on, a quiet sigh, entirely melancholic. “I missed the whole pregnancy. I - I missed everything.”

“You still didn’t answer my question.” JJ reminded him. “What happened?”

Spencer knew she was asking as a friend. He knew that of all people - she was the one to talk to about this.

“It - it was right after Hankel.” He admitted quietly. “That was when Y/N and I broke up.”

“Oh.” JJ said quietly.

The air in the car became thick as the heaviness truly overtook her.

So, it was complicated.

But she definitely couldn’t understand your rage toward Spencer.

“When I came back from Atlanta, she knew I wasn’t the same. And things - we - we fell apart.” He admitted this barely above a whisper, hesitant to even voice the words as a reality. “You knew what kind of person I was back then. I wasn’t good to her. I wasn’t good to anybody.”

Spencer let out a harsh chuckle - a defense to all the hurt he was feeling about it.

JJ spotted a sign for a shopping center, and pulled into the parking lot. She knew that Spencer likely had a good idea about buying into your good graces with a late birthday gift. Even if it wouldn’t instantly make up for everything that had happened all those years ago.

“Yeah, but you’re sober now.” She reminded him.

“She doesn’t know that.” Spencer replied.

JJ ruminated in thought for a moment.

“You know, I met Will afterwards, right?” She said.

Out of the corner of her eye, Spencer nodded.

“It was only a few weeks after everything happened, when we were working that case in New Orleans.” She explained. “And he looked at me like I was a hero. Because I helped him finish what his father couldn’t. He didn’t look at me like I was fragile or broken. He didn’t tip-toe around me. He didn’t see me as some ghost. And that is part of the reason why I fell for him. He always saw me as this goddess. Like Superwoman.”

Spencer smiled at this.

He wanted to be that person for you. He wanted to be your Superman. (But he feared that he couldn’t live up to that. That he would fail you when the time came.)

JJ found a parking spot, and parked, but Spencer lingered - sensing there was more to the conversation.

“You know… Henry wants a puppy.” JJ’s voice shook, her throat clenching up around these words.

Spencer’s stomach shook.

He hadn’t been there, but he had seen the scars on JJ’s arms. He had seen the footage of the other poor woman being torn apart by those dogs.

“And I had to tell Will everything. How I was chased down, how I had to shoot two innocent animals - the stupid fact that I still feel guilty about it, even though they would have killed me if I hadn’t done it.” She said, her throat becoming more closed off with each word. She cleared it before she spoke again. “How I lost you, how it was all my fault.”

“What happened to me wasn’t your fault.” Spencer felt the need to say this aloud, reaching over and putting a gentle hand on her knee. She nodded at him before she continued.

“Just - it was all so overwhelming. The idea of having a dog in our house. But… I told him that I wanted to try, at least. For Henry.” JJ explained. “But when we went to the animal shelter - the sound of dogs barking… I couldn’t stop myself from flinching. And next thing I know, I’m sitting on the curb outside with my head between my knees and Will is putting a bottle of water to my lips.”

“Henry seems more like a cat person anyway.” Spencer replied, hoping this slightly humorous comment would offer some comfort to his friend.

JJ let out a tired laugh.

“He’s three and a half, I think we’re still in the stage where a goldfish is more than enough for him.” She added on.

“I - I never told Y/N.” Spencer said, suddenly shifting the conversation. JJ raised her brow, prompting further explanation of this. “I never told her what happened to me. What happened with Hankel.”

JJ gave him a sad look.

“Why not?”

“I - I didn’t want her to view me as weak. I couldn’t fight him off. I accepted the drugs. At certain points, I…. I even pitied him.” Spencer replied. “I didn’t want things to change between us. Even though they did anyway.”

“Do you still wanna be with her?” JJ asked.

“What?” Spencer gaped, not expecting the question.

“If the kid is yours, obviously you wanna be in his life. But co-parenting as separate, single people is one thing.” JJ explained herself. “Do you still want to be with Y/N? Do you still love her?”

“Yes.” Spencer replied shyly.

“Then you have to tell her everything.” JJ said firmly. “Being with someone for the long term isn’t about creating some fantasy. I fell in love with Will because he looked at me like I was Superwoman, but I stayed in love because he takes care of me when I’m powerless. You have to be weak in front of her and let her take care of you, so that you can be strong everywhere else.”

Spencer sighed - letting this wisdom fully penetrate him.

He knew that being a genius sometimes meant that he wasn’t the smartest person in the room. Apparently, this was one of those times.

“You’re right.”

Then, he reached for the car door’s handle, feeling like JJ had taught him a lot with that conversation and he needed some time to think alone.

“You want me to come with you?” JJ asked. “You might need a woman’s opinion on what to get,”

“No thanks, I know Y/N pretty well.” He replied. “At least I hope I still do.” He opened the door fully and stepped out. “And I wanted some alone time, to… think all of this over. To think about what I’m gonna say to Y/N. I’m gonna walk back afterwards, the house is only a few blocks away.”

JJ nodded.

“I should check back in with Hotch.” She noted. “See if they found anything with the other women on the list. Otherwise, all we’ve got is the flowers.”

Just as he moved to close the door again, JJ spoke up one last time.

“Rubble.” She said suddenly - which sounded very strange with no context.

“What?” Spencer asked, ducking his head down to see inside the car to potentially hear her words better.

“Rubble - it’s a character from the kids’ TV show, Paw Patrol.” She explained. “There was about five action figures of him sitting on the living room floor back there. So I would assume that he’s your son’s favorite character.”

Spencer’s chest jumped at the way she said ‘your son’ - so casually.

He could really have a child in his life. This could really be his future.

If he played his cards right, this could be his future with you.

“Thank you, JJ.” Spencer grinned at her.

She smiled back and he stood up to his full height and closed the car door, walking off into the shopping center by himself.

And of course, his thoughts drifted back to you.

He thought back to the last time he had spent your birthday with you. Before Hankel, before all the madness. Before everything good in his life slipped through his fingers and he was left feeling so alone.

…

For someone with basically no serious relationships under his belt before you came along, Spencer was excellent when it came to romance.

Perhaps it was because he spent his time reading the classics - he could recite Elizabethan poetry off by heart, he could whisper epic romantic ballads in your ear before kissing you with such intense passion that it left your head spinning. He had such a perfect picture of what romance should be, and it meant that he knew how to plan a date that left you feeling like a queen.

Every single time he took you out, he made you feel like you were the only woman on earth - like he would move the seas and the sky just to show you how much he cared.

And because he insisted that your birthday should be a day all about you - a day dedicated to celebrating you - then this was certainly no different.

The night had been a whirlwind of perfection.

After dinner at a gorgeous fine dining restaurant downtown, Spencer then drove the two of you to an art gallery to stroll around. He cited that he wanted you to have some down time for your food to settle before he gave you your present. From the spark in his eye, you had a feeling that you knew exactly what that present would be. The whole evening was so utterly beautiful and peaceful. And like everything with Spencer - it was a pleasant enrichment of the mind, looking at art while he told you things about the artists or the origins of the paintings.

Before you got halfway through the gallery, he checked his watch and told you that it was ‘just about time’ for your present, and then he drove you back to his apartment.

The two of you barely made it through the door before you had him pinned against it, your mouth enveloping his in a hot, desperate kiss. You were so utterly grateful to have such a romantic, thoughtful man in your life.

The entire evening had been nothing but a reminder of that - the way he looked at you with love so pure in his eyes. Him opening doors for you, keeping his hand on your lower back to usher you gently around, speaking lowly to you as though his words were precious and only meant to be yours.

You needed him. You needed to show him how much you appreciated all of it. You needed him to know how much of a treasure he was in your life.

You reached for his belt and Spencer let out a choked off moan into your mouth.

You were surprised when he reached for your wrist, gently pulling your touch back - stopping you from unfastening the belt as he pulled his now slightly swollen lips away from your kiss.

“As - as much as I want to,” He huffed out against your mouth. “I - I still have to give you your present.” He noted, flashing you a smile.

“I thought this was my present.” You replied, reaching down to grope Spencer’s half hard cock through his pants.

He let out a groan; but then he reached for your wrist again, pulling your touch back.

“I - I promise - later - afterwards? Later tonight.” He stuttered out, hard pressed to focus as more blood rushed to his cock.

Spencer puzzled you. You had never known any other man to interrupt foreplay for something other than sex, unless it was life or death. But it made you very curious about what your present was and why he was so desperate to give it to you.

And sex was still on the table, so that panging need between your legs would be taken care of eventually.

You hummed in ascent and stepped back, releasing Spencer from where you had him pressed against the door. He gulped in a large breath of air before he moved across the room.

You were surprised when he didn’t move to turn on any lights in the apartment, leaving the two of you settled in comfortable darkness. The only lights being the light from the bathroom that he had left on before leaving, shining down the hall, and the dim lighting coming in the windows - some street lights and the occasional passing car’s headlights.

Spencer shrugged off his blazer and tossed it over the back of the couch on his way toward the window. He yanked up the blinds in front of the space where he had set up a very expensive, advanced, gorgeous telescope - one that had been there the last few times you had visited. Astronomy was one of his many hobbies, and he often invited you to view different stars or passing comets. It was just one of the many things you learned from him - knowledge you absorbed from being around him that made you feel infinitely smarter.

You always indulged in the joy of feeling smarter just from being in his presence. You loved that Spencer was someone so gifted who loved to share his knowledge, rather than gatekeeping it or being snide toward others who weren’t as privileged as him. It was just another thing to love about him - the fact that he was so kind in sharing his big brain with others.

You watched him with intrigue while you took your wrap off your shoulders and tossed your purse onto the couch. Enjoying the quiet and the peaceful darkness and watching him work, you moved to sit on the arm of the couch to begin unstrapping your heels.

He checked his watch again, and then looked to a small side table he had near the telescope. He flipped open a notebook that he had there, and you supposed that the minimal light coming in through the window was enough for him to see whatever it was that he had written there. He adjusted the telescope slightly, then looked at the notebook again, then adjusted the telescope again.

Then he said ‘aha, there you are’ under his breath, grinning widely to himself.

The entire thing made your insides glow with curiosity.

Spencer then turned back to you, still grinning widely. When he noticed your shoe half-hanging off your foot, he stepped over to you and softly grabbed your ankle, sliding your shoe off the entire way before gently rubbing the sole of your foot.

“Let me help you with that, Princess.” He said quietly, before moving to take the shoe off your other foot.

Again, your insides tingled as he made you feel like you were the most important woman on earth.

“Thank you.” You replied, almost speechless at the action.

“If you’ll step right this way, I can show you your present.” He said, motioning toward the telescope with a dramatic flare.

You let out a giggle as you stepped over your abandoned shoes and moved to look into the telescope.

You wondered if he had written some poem and taped it onto the other end of the lens or something like that (it was Spencer, it must have been something epically romantic). But as you bent down and closed one eye to get a good look, it was entirely ordinary.

The telescope was focused on a single, tiny star.

It was beautiful, but it was very… plain. And more than anything, it was confusing.

Your present was… a star?

“Spencer, I don’t really get it?” You sighed, standing up to your full height once again.

“I got you a star.” He said proudly, grinning even wider now.

When you stared at him with more intense confusion, Spencer reached over to the notebook and pulled something out. After he handed it to you, you leaned into the light of the window and studied it carefully.

It was a certificate stating that Spencer had paid to name the star after you.

He had literally changed the night sky for you.

“Oh my god.” You gasped quietly.

You felt so overwhelmed.

If he had made you feel like the most important woman in the world before, then now - you felt like the most important woman in the galaxy.

“Spencer, this is - this is too much.” You said, your throat clenching up slightly due to the intensity of the emotions.

“No, it’s not.” He said firmly, reaching out and putting a hand on your jaw, tilting your face up from looking at the certificate to look at him.

There it was again, all of it spelled out in his eyes - the adoration, the pure, overwhelming affection that he felt for you. It bloomed nothing but those same feelings in return from you. It was almost so overwhelming that you felt like you could have exploded from how much love you felt for this man, all of it swelling inside of you so quickly that you felt like your body couldn’t contain it. Like it was a sickness that was going to overrun your body if you weren’t careful.

“Spencer.”

His name swelled in your throat like that throbbing love, and you couldn’t help yourself from reaching out and grabbing him by the front of his shirt, pulling him into another kiss. Because of course, words weren’t enough. You smothered him with your mouth, trying desperately to communicate every ounce of passion and gratefulness you were feeling with the heat of that kiss.

Spencer held you, engulfing both your cheeks with his large, warm hands, kissing you back with just as much intensity.

Both of you lingered there for a few moments, savoring each other’s lips, mingling in each other’s breath.

You were disappointed when Spencer pulled away.

“There is something else.” He told you, a bit of glee edging on his voice.

“What?” You gaped, shocked by this.

“There’s something else I have to give you. Another part of your present.” He clarified, pulling back completely - likely in order to fetch this thing.

You let out a breath. You weren’t sure how this magnificent man could possibly do more.

You placed the certificate for the star down on the table where Spencer had kept it. Later, you would take it home and have it framed, wanting to display it proudly. You could imagine yourself putting it up in the front of your home when you eventually moved in with Spencer. You could put it next to your marriage certificate; eventually, put next to wedding photos when the two of you eventually got married. (And sometime later, it would be hanging alongside photos of you and Spencer with your kids. You tingled, realizing that this was the first time you had ever thought of having kids with him, but it fit so well. It seemed right.)

The thought made you tingle.

You could truly imagine yourself having a life with Spencer. Standing proudly because this was just the beginning of it. He truly felt like ‘the one’ you had always been waiting for.

“Here.”

Spencer’s voice pulled you from your plethora of dreamy thoughts, and you turned to see him holding a velvet box. Your heart skipped a beat at the passing thought that it might be the box - but no. Now wasn’t the time. The two of you had only been dating for a year and a half. And while you were so deeply in love, you knew that it was a bit haste to assume that he was ready for marriage when you were his first serious girlfriend. You were still both so young.

He opened the lid and you let out a small gasp when you saw it.

It was a simple, elegant silver necklace. The pendant was a four pointed star, with a small, dainty stone in the middle. You easily recognized it as your birthstone, meant to represent the fact that he had given it to you on your birthday. And obviously the star pendant as a whole represented that he had also gifted you a literal star in the sky on that same day.

“Spencer, it’s so beautiful.” You said, utterly breathless.

“Traditionally, the four pointed star is believed to represent the designation of a goal. It marks one’s great endeavors, because it seems to point to the four cardinal directions. This star is meant to guide someone, like a map - the way that sailors used the stars to guide their path.”

Spencer explained, knowledgeable as he always was.

“I - I chose this for you because… well, because when I met you, I felt as though I had accomplished great things in all areas of my life, except for one. Academically, I was satisfied. In my career, I was happy. But when it came to matters of the heart… I was utterly clueless. And when I found you… it felt like you were my guiding star. Like you were the person I had been waiting for to finally show me - show me the meaning of love.”

“Oh, Spencer.” Your voice cracked around these words, barely able to form them. “Oh, honey. I love you so much. Thank you.”

It was all your mind could gather at the moment. It wasn’t the first time you had said it to him, but it was certainly one of the most intense.

“I love you too.” He replied. Through the dimness, you could almost see tears forming in his eyes. “You truly make me so happy.”

Spencer then cleared his throat harshly, wanting to clear away his intensely emotional tears.

“Can - can I put it on you?” He asked shyly, motioning with the necklace in its box.

“Of course.” You grinned. “I’d love that.”

You turned around and Spencer took it out of the box, fiddling with the dainty clasp for a moment before he put it around your neck and then did it up for you. It felt so right around your neck. It felt like his love was being carried with you. You had a feeling that you wouldn’t want to take it off anytime soon. You could easily imagine yourself feeling so proud to answer whenever random strangers or your co-workers asked where it was from.

When it was secured around your neck, Spencer leaned in and laid a gentle, open-mouthed kiss against the chain. This simple act reminded you of that needy throb between your thighs; of what you had been wanting so badly the moment you had come in the door.

“So…” He whispered against your neck. “What else does the birthday girl want?”

“I can think of a few things.”

That was how you ended up with your back pressed against the softness of the couch - too impatient to even make it to the bed - with your dress pushed up around your waist, your panties tossed somewhere in the middle of the living room rug. Spencer’s glasses were pressed up onto his forehead while his knees dug into that same rug, his fingers splayed across your thighs, holding you open to makeway for his tongue.

He ate you out with all of the intensity and passion that he had kissed you with - moaning into your pussy as though he was singing directly to the gods.

“Fuck, Spence.” You moaned, raking your hands through his hair, holding him close - not that he would want to pull away for even a second.

He loved your taste more than anything in the world, and he savored every second that he got the privilege of being on his knees for you. He moaned into your pussy, loudly, almost pathetically - hot echoes coming from his lungs as though he was the one being pleasured. He laved his tongue across you with an open jaw, drinking in as much of you as possible while your thighs quaked around his head. Your nails dug into his scalp and he only moaned harder, loving the sound of your needy whines and your gasping breaths as your clit throbbed under his tongue.

Spencer hummed in delight while he bounced your clit on his tongue, loving the feeling of that sweet little bead throbbing against him; loving your taste, loving your echoing moans. Loving how much he could bring you pleasure.

“Fuck, Spence, so close!”

He put his lips around you and sucked then, holding you gently against him by the hips. He couldn’t help but to enjoy the feeling of your body quaking against his face while your orgasm overtook you. It was overwhelming and beautiful and warmed your whole body - just like the love you felt for him.

He pulled away after a moment, when he was sure that he had seen you through to the satisfying end, and he grinned against the mound of your pussy.

“Happy birthday, pretty girl.”

…

After the break-up, Spencer often looked up to the sky and thought about you.

On the nights when your star was in place overhead, he felt a particular pang in his chest. He wondered where you were and what you were doing. He wondered if you were safe. He spent many nights staring out his telescope, wondering if you were happy, blanketed under that inky sky.

You thought about the star sometimes, too.

You thought it was a lot like your relationship with Spencer. Placing all of your hopes and dreams onto something already dead - something where the light had died out long ago.

...

Continue reading: Chapter Three - Turn It Off

#sundrop writes #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds #criminal minds fic #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #dad!spencer reid #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid smut #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you

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seeingivy · 11 months

Text

never grow up

satoru gojo x f!reader

tsumiki’s first date doesn’t go so well.

**part of my satoru as taylor swift songs series

content: megumi + tsumiki kiddos, mentions of heartbreak, reader says she wants to murder a child at one point, reader and gojo are soulmates, written for my girlies who are still waiting for love (I am the target audience)

an: my other gojo fic is personally victimizing me. like physically giving me pain in my soul its making me very mad. anyways here is a consolation prize (very old draft) while I try to revive that dumpster fire and not rip my hair out in the process. apologies to the gojo girlies im sorry :(((

You press down the ends of Tsumiki’s hair, setting her hair against the hairband that she had picked out. You feel her reach up, squeezing your hands as you give her hair one last spray lean down to press a kiss to the top of her head.

She turns around, pressing herself against your legs as Satoru and Megumi walk in, leaning against the doorframe. They’re both irritated - not big fans of the whole ordeal.

Tsumiki’s going on a date.

Satoru was very adamant about it at first. Tsumiki can’t go on a date. She’s only thirteen and she has no business looking at boys, let alone going out with one.

But she was just so excited, her tiny little eyes looking up into yours as she pleaded with you to convince him. So you did - his favorite dessert, a few kisses, and batting your pretty eyelashes until he gave in. And he always does.

Megumi wasn’t one to exactly stop it per say, but he had made his opinions clear. He’s not a nice guy. Dates are stupid. Love isn’t real. You chalk it up to the fact that he’s a morbid nine year old.

The three of you clump by the door as you watch her walk out the door, shooting you one last toothy smile before locking her fingers with the boy, Hiro she said his name was, and skipping down the walkway to where his parents were waiting.

Megumi trails off immediately, running up to his room as you and Satoru watch the car drive away. He reaches over, locking his fingers with yours, as he cranes his neck out the doorway to watch the car disappear down the street.

“She’s too young to go on a date, Y/N. What if he’s an idiot?”

You wrap your arms around him, squeezing his arms as he deflates against you.

“They’re thirteen, Toru. I bet they’re just going to awkwardly hold hands during the movie and freak out about it. It’ll be fine.”

“And what if something else happens and she comes home crying, love?”

“She’s growing up. Stuff like that will happen. We just have to be here to catch her, that’s all.”

You and Satoru are standing outside the movie theater, the rain pouring against the shade, as you wait for Tsumiki to leave the theater. She had texted you - two hours earlier than she was supposed to, much to Satoru’s dismay - and had said that she wanted to come home.

And when she comes out, you know you made the wrong choice by letting her go. Because there she is, crying puddles like Satoru said she would. Her eyes are swollen, her cheeks tinted pink, and the look on her face is just about to make you cry. She looks heartbroken.

She holds her hand out to Satoru, the two of them walking off to the car as you trail behind the time.

You feel horrible. You pushed her too hard, too early - letting your own past get caught up in what you were doing with Tsumiki. You remember it vividly. Pining in your room, saying no to dates because you knew your parents would never let you go. Getting stuck wondering about what could have been, how much love you lost out on just because someone stopped you.

You didn’t want to do that to Tsumiki. Let her lose out on feeling special, having someone hand her flowers, and making her smile just because she was only thirteen.

This is somehow worse. She’s only thirteen and she knows. The soul crushing feeling of someone not returning your feelings, thinking you’re weird, having love to hold onto that no one wants to return.

The three of you return home, not having uttered a single word the entire ride home. Megumi was still over at Yuji’s, having ran over to his house across the street the second the two of you went to pick up Tsumiki.

“Want me to go get him, Toru?”

“Not yet, love. We have to talk to Miki first.”

You press your hands against your sides, awkwardly ambling into the kitchen where she was sitting at the table. She had unwrapped the plate you had made her - that she was supposed to eat when she told you about how great her date was. Instead she looks deflated, pushing her fork across the sides as she picks out the smallest bites of food.

You sit next to her and watch Satoru zip around the kitchen, placing items in front of you. Three spoons, strawberries, and the industrial tub of chocolate ice cream that Satoru bought against your protests.

He leans forward, taking the plate in front of Tsumiki onto the side and pushing the ice cream in front of her. He hands the two of you spoons, taking the third, and opens the lid.

“Alright Miki. Let’s talk, yeah?”

“No.”

She lowers her head, digging her spoon into the ice cream as you and Satoru stand at her sides. He leans over, slinging his arm around her shoulder as he gestures to you to do the same. You both lean your heads against hers, the three of you still digging into the ice cream.

You’re not sure when she started, but when you look over, Tsumiki’s crying, her hold on both of your hands so tight you can feel the blood stopping. The three of you wordlessly eat the ice cream, until Satoru breaks the silence - nearly an hour later.

“Want to talk about it now?’

“I just got sad. When we got there, he asked me if one of my friends liked anyone because he liked her. Not me.”

You can feel the bitterness sticking in your throat - a heavy mix of guilt and anger. You never really understood child violence, but you think you’re starting to get it. Because why would he take her all the way there just to say that? Hold her hand on the pavement just to ask about her friend? You’re going to throttle him.

“I just wanted someone to like me like you guys like each other.”

You and Satoru look at each other over the top of her head, your heart squeezing in your chest at her words.

“Someone will, Tsumiki. I promise, okay?”

She crushes her hand in yours, nodding as she leans closer into you. You can see the gears in Satoru’s head moving as he looks over, shaking his head at you.

“Can I tell you something, Tsumiki?’

She looks up at him, the two of you looking into his bright, blue eyes.

“No one liked Y/N when she was younger.”

You glare at him, rolling your eyes. He can’t be serious.

“Really?”

“Yeah. She went months, years on end waiting for someone to like her back, you know?”

“Thank you for the reminder, Satoru.”

He ruffles the top of your hair as Tsumiki laughs, shaking his head at the two of you.

“What I mean is, Y/N and I had to wait for each other. We didn’t get it right on the first try or even the third, fourth, or fifth try. Y/N dated guys who were mean to her, I dated girls who didn’t even really like me, and we both were really, really sad about it.”

Now you get it.

“I waited for Y/N. She didn’t just come around super easy, okay? You’ll have to wait for your Y/N too.”

“Waiting for Satoru made it all the sweeter when I got to him, you know?”

She looks up, a questioning look in her eyes as she angles her neck upwards.

“The thing you’re waiting for is worth it. And you don’t have to worry about it not coming, because it will. And when it comes, you won’t even remember that you had ever waited, that you ever felt this way.”

You and Satoru both watch her wipe her tears with the back of her hand, nodding as she gives the two of you one last hug and pads off to her room. You and Satoru stay in the kitchen, your hands locked together as you eat the tub of ice cream Satoru left out.

You lean over, pressing your forehead against his shoulder as you groan. He places his free hand in your hair, soothing through the tangles at the ends of your hair.

“What are you groaning, love?”

“I should have just listened to you. She’s all sad now because I let her go.”

“That’s not your fault. It was right to let her go now because it was bound to happen one day.”

“I know that, Toru. I just…I don’t want her to grow up. I don’t think I really realized it before but people can hurt her. The bad way. And we can’t really protect her from that.”

He lets go of the spoon, circling his hands around your face as he lifts your head up. He’s looking down at you, stupid blue eyes glimmering, as he gives you a soft smile.

“She’s growing up. Stuff like that will happen. And she won’t be alone, because we’ll be there to catch her.”

“Don’t quote me back to me dumbass. I hate you.”

He laughs in response, leaning down to press soft kisses to your face - your forehead, cheeks, the tip of your nose. You shrug him off, pressing yourself against his shoulder again, his hand rubbing small circles into your side.

“Thanks for waiting for me, Toru.” you whisper, leaning closer to him.

“You’re so dramatic.”

He leans down, pressing kisses all over your face till you’re smiling so big you have to push him off. He always does this - tickles, kisses, squishes you to death until you smile at him again. He stops, pulling you close again as you both swing your legs against the chair.

“Thanks for waiting for me too, love.”

You and Satoru drag Tsumiki and Megumi to the bookstore the next day, much to Megumi’s dismay. You tell Tsumiki that she can pick anything she wants out and that the two of you will buy it for her.

She joins the two of you at the front, holding a laminated purple calendar in her hands. You crouch down, turning it over in your hands, as she looks at you. It’s a fifteen year calendar - which you didn’t even know they made.

“You picked…a calendar?”

“I want to count down the days. Till I find my you.”

She skips off, entering the line as you and Satoru follow, your hands locked together. He squeezes your hands three times, giving you a soft smile, as you return his three squeezes.

One squeeze for each word. I love you.

the satoru as taylor swift songs series masterlist

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simpliao · 2 years

Note

Hi! I just started following you and oh my god you JSchlatt fics are so good, I can’t get enough!!! If you’re taking requests right now, I’d like to ask for a little protective Schlatt! With the internet being what it is, I can imagine that maybe it wouldn’t be to kind to Schlatt’s SO. Or maybe you might have another scenario in mind? Again, thank you so much for all your writing, it makes my day!!! ❤️

i will shoot you dead ; (irl) schlatt x reader

summary : he couldn't give a shit what people say about him; what actually irritates him is when those assholes involve people that have nothing to do with whatever they're bullshitting about. he's made it a point not to involve his personal life, but when it gets leaked and his s/o gets targeted; he isn't fucking happy.

info : swearing, protective schlatt, pet names, she/her, afab reader, mentions of harassment and death threats, and fluff.

a/n : this was such a good idea i couldn't pass up ah, thank you so much for enjoying ! i am and attempting to post around every two/three days but school is just starting so i'm unsure how well i'll manage. to everyone else that requested, still working on it so apologizes that they are semi-late ! hope this also lives up to your expectations.

Being rich at twenty-three was a blessing and a curse, since he acquired all his wealth from being an Internet personality so to speak. Having what should have been a hobby bare so much fruit wasn't without its issues, and the drawback was most definitely the fame. People in his business, attempting to figure out his name and address, outraged from jokes and pretending that they understand him to a personal level; he was grateful for the normal ones, but one outspoken psycho made him rethink all his life choices.

It was never the audience's right to know or interact with his private life, to the creators that do let their fans have that window into their life was a privilege, not a right. So he never did tell anyone past his close circle of friends of his lover, Y/n, a blue collared worker not high up within her company but making good money to be independent. To Schlatt, she was his own little slice of heaven, always giving him the right kind of realistic advice while could always acknowledge and take in account his own feelings.

To some: she might be considered perfectly average, but he saw beyond the rest, she was more than just a pretty face anyways. He adored her ambition to work her hardest and larger than life aspirations. Despite knowing of the kind of money her boyfriend possessed, she never dared asked for a penny; he appreciated that she wanted her own individual success that came from her and not from outside sources. Being that she was also probably one of the most appreciate human beings he's ever had the chance to meet just added to her charm; she never let him so much as pay for a coffee without him hearing a thousand and one thank yous. She was his to love and adore, no one else should have been mixed up in their lives.

She had absolutely zero internet presence, and he liked it that way. Since she wasn't big into the public sphere she wouldn't be caught up in all the bullshit that followed him. Many people despised him despite not having spoken to or even knowing him beyond his flamboyant internet persona; it was fucking stupid, usually they never really bothered him no matter how much they so desperately wanted to cancel him and throw him off the internet. That's where he thought it ended, they despised him, they couldn't logically harass people that possible know him, right? Wrong.

'uh, schlatt? I'm getting a lot of emails about you coming to my work email. Did you tell people about my job or anything?'

Being that for almost the past decade most if not all of his friends had taken to calling him by his last name it eventually became used more or less so by everyone in his life more than his real one. It wasn't that his girlfriend didn't know his name or hadn't asked, she also enjoyed the sound of it and ended up being the default thing she'd call him.

The text itself was unusual, he wasn't even sure if he knew her work email let alone tell it to other people.

'What? No. I don't even know your email. What are they saying?'

'I have it in my LinkedIn profile, they're asking what's my relationship to you. Some are threatening to message my higher-ups claiming I'm a racist? They keep linking me back to Twitter. I can't work when my important emails are drowned out in this. I had one threatening to come where I work and hurt me.'

'Listen, sweetheart, I'm so sorry I really didn't think that they'd find you. I'll do my best to fix this, I'll come pick you up from work today too so don't leave the building until I arrive.'

A spark of rage ignited from within him, he was sure to be careful about not revealing her identity or even mentioning much about her. He knew how bad these people could get and how low they would stoop because they had no lives and just wanted to get the better of him; he wanted to protect her and now all he felt like was a failure. He was quick to log into Twitter and type in 'Jschlatt Girlfriend' and it was almost immediate that he found the thread of the asshole that went as far as to dox him and figure out who and where Y/n was. "He is a bad person that deserves all the things coming to him." It was written with such conviction, as if dragging unrelated people into a stupid ass controversy about another testing-the-line joke he told. He didn't care what they did to him, but threatening to hurt those closest to him struck a nerve that made him want to do some... Fairly illegal things to these people.

So he hoped that most people had some common sense left, screen shotted the thread and the text from his lover and was quick to make a comment about it.

Say whatever the fuck you want about me. But actively try to dox and threaten my girlfriend when she has nothing to do with any of this bullshit online and I will shoot you dead. Fuck you.

He knew these saggy fuckers wouldn't dare try anything, not when they'd know he'd be right there waiting for them. Was he serious when he said he'd shoot them dead? Only half so. He wasn't scared to use the firearm that he kept at home for protection, and neither was he scared to do what he needed to for the sake of protecting the only bright spot in his life. She didn't deserve this. He knew the hate for him could get damn strong, and who knows who amongst them would be crazy enough to act on those words. He wasn't going to test it and he would clearly set the boundary; don't fuck with him in real life, or you have to deal with him in real life.

It can be said he was not in a good mood as he waited outside the glass skyscraper building for his girl, since the few hours that he tweeted out about the situation public opinion turned more into his favour. Although he still had those that were adamant that he was said bad person, vast majority agreed that the original poster of her information was the biggest asshole. The thread was deleted but he saved all the screenshots and had the username burned into his mind, may god save that asshole's soul should Schlatt ever get his hands on him.

Once he saw her exiting the azure-tinted building he was quick to slip his phone into his pocket and get out of the car, running up to the door to greet her. A sheepish smile graced her lips as she gave him a soft wave, he noticed how she wore his favourite blazer and skirt set and how gorgeous she looked in it, but a more important question left his lips first. "Are you okay?" A worried one captured her features, "yeah I am, you look so stressed out. I'm sorry if I worried you." He shook his head and took hold of the hand that reached up to cup his face, "don't apologize, if anything I should. Being involved with me got you in this." A sympathetic look flashed her features as he walked side-by-side with her, a soft smile growing to her own face.

"Don't beat yourself up about it, I reported it to HR and although it took a while to explain they made sure to notify security about it and I had one guy follow me around when I went out for lunch, he was nice about it too. I had to ask help how to set it so they'd all go to spam but we worked it out eventually. So, please, don't worry too much; I'll be okay I promise." He looked down to see her reassuring smile, he knew she'd worry more over him than her own safety. He knew working himself up was an overreaction, he doubted anything would happen; but should something do he wouldn't ever forgive himself. "So, don't shoot anyone?" His eyebrows shot up at this, "you saw my tweet?" Last time he checked this girl had an issue figuring out how to change her profile picture on instagram.

"Well, other people did. A lot of people caught wind that I was getting death threats so I ended up having to explain who you were and they found your Twitter. Please uh, don't kill anyone on my behalf?" An airy chuckle left him, as he knelt down to kiss her temple, "and leave you behind to go to jail, toots? You're gonna have to try harder than that if you want to get rid of me." Seeing his ease and cheeky grin come about, a sense of relief washed over her. "So then, you wanna go out to–" "no." "Huh, why?"

She separated from him for just a moment so she could get into the passenger's side of the car. "We can go out when this whole thing blows over. Until then I don't want you running out of sight." It may have sounded slightly demanding, but she knew that his anxiety must have been through the roof; overthinking was one of his flaws that they worked through together. It wasn't like it was all that big of a deal, chilling out at the apartment sounded just as nice. "Movie night then?" Her enthusiasm was infectious that he couldn't help but break a smile. "Yes, please."

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alwaysinstyle · 7 days

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A Long-Overdue RANT Girlies Appreciation Post

Tonight feels like the perfect night to tell you how much I love you all, and I apologize in advance for the length of this post.

~ Nina ~

My precious Pastel Woods outfit hype-woman who’s always ready to Style Carry™️ me onto the battle field, deceive the enemies with her iconic mermaid hair extensions and then KICK SOME ASS for the both of us. Darling, if your Pinterest board is any indication, you have me absolutely figured out and it is both hilarious and iconic. You are for real my Kenny-coded friend’s evil twin and I know without a doubt that you two would go full GTA mode on the NPC bad drivers to bring me an iced coffee (from ANYWHERE but the Bad Vibes Café). Speaking of which, I hoping you’re treating yourself to an iced chai, because you deserve it, you gorgeous and talented REAL author who I adore. Thanks for climbing up on stilts to give me a kiss on the cheek whenever I’m feeling down. Your constant kind words mean so much to me and yes, you did make me cry actual tears when you called me your IRL Superhero. Your dear Wal-Mart Taylor Swift sends all the love in the world.

~ Teri ~

Scary Teri, my favorite Ten Ferrets Stacked in a Trench Coat, my fellow road rage gal who loves screaming in the car as much as I do. I can’t even tell you how much I appreciate you for biting the bullet and being the Cartman friend with whom I can make THE darkest jokes and tell THE darkest stories (and, of course, exchange graphic jump-scare surgery pics) without scaring you away. At the end of it all, you still tell me I’m vibrant and resilient, and that warms my heart more than I can express. Thank you for allaying my fears of becoming a Cynical Asshole (formal diagnosis as you all know). Thank you for making me feel strong when I feel weak. I look forward to many, many more unhinged conversations and overly analytic beta reads of your spectacular fics. I do, in fact, still expect to receive a package containing the buckets of tears I have harvested through Hourglass.

~ Riley ~

My dearest WARRIOR, sword-wielding protector Riley, co-sponsor of the Style Carry™️ who makes me spontaneously combust with everything she writes. We come together to form one joint Whump Deity as the Queen of Injury Fics and the Queen of Sickfics, and I love that everyone on ao3 GENUINELY lumps us together as one being. I don’t blame them since we really do be sharing one brain cell. It kicks ass being each other’s target audience because even with our most self-indulgent shit, mark my worms, the other WILL be absolutely blended. Whenever I’m feeling down, you’re ALWAYS locked and loaded with lizard pics and not to mention graphic illness and injury for my viewing pleasure. Your fics, bedtime stories and sneak peeks that are ALWAYS tacitly solicited bring me such an incredible amount of joy. I mean it. It was the sweet siren call of OJV that brought me to Tumblr in the first place. I am so glad to have come to the dark side and to have become a RANT girly, and I owe that all to you. You are the heart of RANT, dear. Without you we’re just ANT, and ants aren’t even that cool. Thank you so very much for being the ultimate hype gal, for being THE world’s best commenter, for reminding me to take care of Ye Olde Flesh Prison when I’m being terrible about it, and for worrying about me when I’m too stubborn to worry about myself. Your support means the world to me, my dude. Our chats and headcanon dumps have actually been the grounding force keeping me sane (ironically, since we’re so insane about Style). Keep kicking ass and avoiding creepy pizza men, okay? I love you so much and I love being NOT normal together.

@1moreoffkeyanthem @asteria7fics @boxwinebaddie

All three of you, and everyone else on this crazy website who makes me smile, THANK YOU.

#rant girlies #rant park #okay i’m crying move along everyone #ilysm #you slay my dudes

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jyx-ns · 2 years

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needed to get this off my chest b4 i rot from the inside out

i dont know if this will reach the target audience that i want but (t) at this point nothing is going to stop me

===

basically i've seen a lot, and i mean a lot of drabbles or fics or whatever they are called, of perv! eddie munson, and steve harrington, and like a few billy hargove pieces. and maybe one or two perv! reader pieces that aren't meant for me, because i am a girl (of age! to be reading and writing this) and the pieces are meant for guys.

but whatever.

the point is that how can anyone write smuttty pieces of billy without ever mentioning his spectacular butt. just look!

how can you just not want to bite and suck marks at the cheeks and praise and love and show off this whole bakery!

and okay enough of that.

i want to get to the horrible (not as bad as i thought) stuff that i need to put down. so tags and warnings will be added here!

SEMI CONTENT WARNING: penetration for the reader

tag: perv! reader, mentions of exhibition (basically wanting to get caught), gross! reader, bathroom s*x (no touching the cake yet :/ unfortunately), s*x without a cond*m, plse have safe s*x peoples!, mentions of drinking, smoking, han*jobs, bl*wjobs, stealing clothing items, watching someone sleep, almost getting caught at peeking (ha), 3-4 am writings, lowercase intended, not proof read, somehow it ended up with me praising him, OOC! billy (maybe idk) (most likely, dialogue sucks)

to those interested, what i had in mind was a reader (totally did not decide to finally write this when writing a fic with a similar sort of reader) that has a friend with benefits deal with billy. haven't decided on romance (maybe no romance cus it kills the vibes)

just imagining getting to know the californian transfer better than anyone else (not completely, he's keeping you at football field length of his home life) seeing him as a close friend, and maybe he sees you at the same wave but he ain't admitting anything

just like you won't ever admit that the whole reason you even started to talk to him (you totes made the first move on the new guy which was not appreciated by many) was because you just saw a glimpse of the cake on him. you don't even want to talk about having the same p.e. class as him. getting to see him in those sickening shorts on him, and without a shirt! a so added bonus on your book

you can ogle and stare, not too much tho, can't show yourself as a creep just yet! or ever, but your stare can never be hidden too long

and after befriending him over whatever you could to get close to him, the both of you are at a party (even if you weren't exactly keen on going to tina's party but he was going to be there, how much more convincing can it get?)

so after bumping into him on accident, the two of you are now in a bathroom. lips and bodies practically glued together with an arm of his on your waist and the other on your neck to prevent you from pulling away (as if, oh and the taste of the beer that still lingered in his mouth had your knees weak which he could mistake you being turned on by the hand that used to lay on your waist that is now settling on the front your bottom half)

which yeah that too has you weak in the knees, but getting a taste of something that was already in his mouth, it was just... it made butterflies explode in your stomach

but the feeling could only last for so long, as you both had to pull apart (read billy) for air. you obvi chased after his mouth, and he could have laughed if it weren't for the fact that you were able to last longer than him in kissing

you are severely desperate for something, and he is so not going to give it to you easily now. and that's fine, you could play the desperate brat he could be into (at least until you get just the one nibble on the cake)

you're moving your hips against one of his jean cladded thighs of his, he's letting you with what you can assume to be light blush (probably due to the lack of oxygen a moment ago, but it gets you going, having built a fantasy of him getting the blush differently) on his face and a smirk that has you begging (vocal) him to just take you. like now. like right now

and okay maybe you underestimated his size, and if either he would be rough or gentle (you thought you had garnered positive points for being a friend of sorts to him) but it doesn't matter anymore. you had pushed yourself to sit on the sink with your legs wide open (who knew your legs can stretch that far? you didn't) underwear somewhere on your ankle (i didn't know if i should have mentioned pants or shorts or if imagining a dress, considering the latter gives easier access, but you had undies)

you feel him moving, and all you could do was throw your head back with a darn smile on your face. he's sweaty and using your hole like a fleshlight and the only thought in your head was that you are a step closer to your goal.

his lips are on you again and he's getting aggressive as you get loud. you might as well become the music. geezus

he's stuffing two fingers in your mouth, saliva running down your lips as you gag and tighten both mouth and hole as he angled his hips to go deeper when you are moved to be a little closer to falling off the sink

you hear him tell you stuff but you can't answer. he removes his fingers and wipes them on your cheek and you can't help it when your eyes roll to the back of your head as he wraps both arms around your upper torso. you nearly came when you got a whiff of his sweaty musk

you hear him say if you want to be caught like this, to which you can only reply before tightening around his dick

"let them! let them see that you're the only that can make me feel this good!"

you so messed up by saying that because now he's slamming his hips against your ass and kissing you and you return the kiss with whatever sense of control of brain you had left. goal long forgotten

this time you pull away when you cum and a second later he does too. your arms wrapped around his shoulders, his neck becoming so inviting as his sweat glistens under the bathroom light

now you're pulling your underwear up, letting the band snap against your skin as you get down on your knees in front of him. feeling him getting hard again as you give him a handjob because you never thought you were this dirty. your thighs rubbing together as you practically drool at the sweat that was on his thighs

giving a kitty lick on his tip before he's grabbing the back of your head and making your mouth take all of him. you're moaning (gagging first if you got gag reflexes) when your hands are perched on his very slight hairy legs. you don't even care about tasting yourself, your goal back in action

spoke too soon. the grip on your head was stilled (he was moving your head, now becoming a literal fleshlight) as he moved his hips to his liking and he's cumming down your throat

you swallow every last bit as if it were your last meal and licking his dick as he pulls away from your mouth. you finally (reluctantly) pull your head away from him. you're opening your mouth to show him that it's all gone (of course it is, it's his)

he seemed to have softened up a bit, and so have your legs as your try to stand. like the real gentleman that he is, he laughs then helps you up. you so won't tell him that you came a second timr at the thought of being an inanimate object to him

===

fast forward weeks, it's now the second day of christmas break and you've had more than once some special fun with billy. speaking of him

he was on your bed, on his stomach with shorts cus there is no way you are going to wait until summer for the heat to make billy wear shorts (you made sure your house was slightly warmer for his standards)

you stood at your doorway, admiring the absolute unit of an ass that he has. he takes notice of you and raises a brow at your outfit. and okay so maybe it was hot for him, but it was warm for you. and now you're dressed in a pair of egg sweatpants and a "kiss the jock" sweater that was pink and unfortunately tight around your torso but loose and long enough in the sleeves. now you can line up and smack all the empty beer cans that he leaves behind

you, still in a daze of finally seeing him in shorts outside of the school, could only mutter the one single word that can be taken at a completely different path with zero context

"ass."

and you do exactly what you wanted to do (not goal), you picked up all the beer cans and have them stand on the bed frame at the end of the bed and you so want to line a few on him

and as if all the winds were against you, he had turned over to lay at his side to stare at whatever your sleep deprived brain wanted to do

there's a trash bin on your right and you manage to get a few in (as in few as in like five) and billy watches you for a hot minute before he obnoxiously yawned and stated that he was going to take a nap, with a smirk on his face as you glared

because who does he think he is! does he think that he can make fun of you by saying that he's going to nap when you've gotten a full day of no sleep (granted he does not know that, and he's not going to) and expect you to not do anything to earn negative points? then you're absolutely right. you wouldn't disturb this man when the scrunch of eyebrows is finally relaxed. not even a scowl to the face (an angel face if you will)

he's baby and you get out of your room to do laundry (cough cough something that is only seen by men, and you totally understand like about 3% on why it's done) with the laundry bin, both yours and billy's clothes in it. you rummage through to find the one thing you've been hoping to find since all the others were already washed and cleaned, every thursday because it's two people and you're not that messy)

you hide the briefs in a space that no one knows about (as you should) and continue as if you hadn't stolen another clothing piece of his. well, it's his fault really. leaving his clothes behind as if he wanted you use the already used pieces of clothes for your own pleasure (first step is acceptance)

when you're done loading the washing machine, you move back to your room. billy is still asleep, in a fortunate ballerina sleeping position. his feet covered by a blanket that reaches just his calves (is it that hot? nah)

now you wish you had a camera. you need to keep this moment forever. how has he gotten comfortable enough around you, to... to sleep in such a way! (making a mental note to get one)

you're quietly groaning in your bundled sleeves at the way the shorts stretch on his ass and thighs. how his shirt is lifted a little and you could see a small part of his happy trail. it's really almost like he knows what he's doing

well, he could. he's not dumb. but that's a thought for another day

you move quietly to stand at the foot of your bed. spectacular. magnificent. marvelous

maybe you shouldn't leave the thought for another day, and leave the room before he completely wakes up. you say this because he's moved around as if to get comfortable, but you already know that he's waking up

it comes with the added benefits when staring at someone sleep at every chance you could get (you never know what could happen)

you go to leave your room to go to the kitchen... for something. you definitely needed to leave

"now where do you think you're going after staring at me for an hour?"

his voice caught you off guard, you don't jump (because you knew), now you're at your doorway again, staring at him with a relaxed expression

"it was not an hour."

the words leave your mouth before you fully see where this was going. cursing under your breath before taking a full glance at him. at his whole body. at him lighting up a cigarette

"you're just a little freak then, huh?"

crossing your arms and you walked towards him with no stutter to your steps. he's no longer lying down; his back is leaning on the headboard and his eyes don't leave your form

you sat on your bed, besides his outstretched legs. a knee under you as you pluck the cigarette that he's already using

"you have no idea what your body does to me."

you blow some smoke towards his face and there wasn't much of a reaction on top. down below though, your response definitely woke something up

"you are so fucking attractive, hargrove. so so attractive."

your face inched closer to his

"from the way your eyelashes frame your sky-blue eyes to the way your mouth stretches in that tiny smile of yours."

ignoring the way a few recognizable (albeit still different) butterflies return as your hands are on his shoulders after he took the cigarette back. only to burn it out and his arms stayed at his sides. with a roll of his eyes, he huffed

"and there is definitely something you love more about me than what you are saying."

you smiled and lowered your hands to his chest before wrapping your arms around his torso. bringing your head down to where his heart should be

"i really, really like the way sweat looks on you. and your chest. and maybe i do love your ass more than you, but i call it even when you are always putting your baby above me."

it brings out a short laugh and you hugged him closer

"i actually like that laugh of yours, where i know you are totally having fun. i like your music taste, and somehow the volume too. i like the fact that my room is becoming ours. and i like being your friend. and that you left me a seashell on my nightstand one day."

he had stiffened and you tried to cool your rapid heartbeat. this is so much worse.

"and i kind of really like you." (I LIED! ROMANCE FOR THIS MAN. I was sucked in the billy hargrove deserves better hashtag earlier today and he DESERVES ALL OF MY LOVE)

"of course you do."

he pulled you closer as you straddled his hips.

"i could list off all the things i like about you as a friend."

you suggested with a small sniff on his neck. one that he ignored in your eyes. (totes not unnoticed)

"do not."

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typewriteringalaxy · 10 months

Note

for the new game!

2. Do you read/reread your own fics? 3. What’s your favorite fic that you’ve written? 6. Are there any fics from others you reread all the time? 14. If you could see one of your fics adapted into a visual medium, such as comic or film, which fan fic would you pick?

aaaand I will stop so I don't use up all the questions lol

thank you for playing along💕

2. Do you read/reread your own fics?

Hell yeah. I am their target audience after all (and for some of them, perhaps the only audience lol). I like observing changes in my writing style too, or fixing typos I didn't catch before posting.

3. What’s your favorite fic that you’ve written?

Making me choose among my children again😭 The top 3 is definitely everything's better with a friend , With Less Inhibition and howling hearts, each for different reasons. The latter two were lovely writing experiences, particularly because of @hypernovaesx 's involvement. Everything's better probably wins though. As readers' reception, as an idea that flowed so easily swept after the show, as the first multichapter fic I actually completed, it just sweeps all categories

6. Are there any fics from others you reread all the time?

Yes! Manacled by senlinyu first and foremost. I was so obsessed with it that I did a meme log for it and my friend printed it as a birthday gift lol. And there's many reylo fics and authors that stayed with me for years.

14. If you could see one of your fics adapted into a visual medium, such as comic or film, which fan fic would you pick?

everything's better with a friend as a movie !! Not only does it provide a full script, but there's also a mention of Piltover making a movie about Ekko and the bombing spirit in it so it would be very meta and fun ! and i may have comic ideas for the future lol

#typewriter asks #timebomb #reylo fanfiction #manacled

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mavspeed · 1 year

Note

I won’t lie I haven’t exactly been doing too many deep dives into the tag, but these are Recent-ish Bangers, in my humble (but 100% correct) opinion:

- You are my life, my pride, my joy by Neoptolemos on ao3 - Icemav are raising young Bradley, who wishes on a star for a younger sibling. Not A/B/O, is an mpreg but it’s really, really sweet. That being said if pregnancy is a squick, I would tread elsewhere

- you got the peaches, I got the cream by Saturn on ao3 - Mav, Goose, and Carole own a bakery, Ice owns the heart of a true simp and a pilot’s license. Super cute one-shot

- today, again, and tomorrow by Lacerta - fellas, is it gay to get stuck in a multi-day time loop with ur rival? Asking for everyone’s favourite disaster aviators. Admittedly, I am the target audience on this one, given that I go bonkers for any time travel trope known to man, but I recommend this one for everyone bc it SLAPS slaps AND GOOSE LIVES (eventually)

- ICE - In Case of Emergencies by thenofutureshoe on ao3 - to be fair I don’t know if this one counts as recent perse, since it has been going since November, but I love it so much that I don’t even care. Is it obvious that the top gun fandom has turned me into an exes to lovers stannie?? Is it??? (Ice and Mav are exes. Mav ends up in the hospital. Ice is still Mav’s emergency contact. Hoo BOY.)

- Watch his Six by Shearmouth on ao3 - I know it’s not technically icemav but it’s pre icemav. the universe itself (the authors notes) told me. Safe to say, I am never getting over this fic!! Mav gets Beat TF Up following Hop 31, and with Goose out of commission, Ice and Slider step up to the plate!! This fic has everything: the whump!! The pining!! The Goose living!! The Ice introspection!! The protective Slider!! That’s what it’s all about, baby!!

- additional rewards earned by mavissed on ao3 - IF YOU READ NOTHING ELSE ON THIS LIST, READ THIS ONE. Ice is a waiter at TGI Fridays. Mav is a reporter testing just how far their unlimited appetizers thing goes. Somehow, this forms the beginning of what I can only imagine will be a beautiful relationship, and what I do know is hands down the best crack the top gun fandom has to offer. I nearly peed myself while reading this and I have no regrets.

- the Back Full Of Scars Series by CaptainTucker and Wingwyrm on ao3 - Set in an au where corporal punishment is the norm in the military circa the 1980s, and Mav has an unfortunate habit of being designated as the go-to whipping boy. It hurts so bad AND so good. The Cain in this is probably my second most-hated in the entire fandom, the whump is delicious, and the protective everybody??? Oh yeah, that’s what it’s all about.

- Flowers For Sale By Owner by aelibia on ao3 - Mav gets hanahaki disease. Mav intentionally exacerbates the symptoms of the said hanahaki disease to sell his lung flowers for money. Goose and Ice both think Mav is an idiot. They are Right (it’s so funny. It’s so damn funny).

- By Night, My Love, Tie Your Heart to Mine by SOBERHYUCK on ao3 - And they were bunkmates! (Oh my god, they were bunkmates)

- Summer Rain by TunaSupremacy on ao3 - au where Ice and Mav didn’t go to top gun together, but did do the Layton rescue. Years down the line, they have to get into a fake relationship for Military Reasons. It’s only three chapters in, but the au is super intriguing and I’m very excited to see where they go with it :)

Honourable mentions go to the as lions update by qin-ling. Is it recent? No. Does it slap? Yes. Am I telling everyone I know about it? Also yes.

Pls enjoy my offerings lmao. I am in a foreign country where I know nobody, and have way too much time on my hands :D

OOOHHH thank you so much!! yeah I’m familiar with some of these I actually love watch your six and as lions omg although I haven’t been keeping up with the most recent updates ☹️☹️ but I’ll def check the rest out!

#ask

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midchelle · 1 year

Text

thank you @raylangivins for tagging. putting this on here because when it comes to beatles rpf, i follow the policy of containment

ao3 first lines tagline

Rules: Share the first lines of ten of your most recent fanfics and tag ten people. If you have written fewer than ten, don’t be shy and share anyway (spoiler alert: rules are made to be broken…)

i haven't written ten fanfics but instead of just sharing the three I've uploaded i am going to take this opportunity to be self-indulgent and pad this list out with other little fragments I've had lying around for a while

“Oi!” John shouts. “What’s going on here?”

“You are not supposed to be here,” the man says. His English sounds like that of all Europeans of his ilk: almost RP but far more enthusiastic about his consonants than any limey. “Jacky and the Strangers were booked to play tonight,” says Lord Kraut, “not the Beatles.”

John squints. “What Beatles?”

“You Beatle, John Lennon.”

people (@aquarianshift) have been saying that this is the greatest opening in English literature. you decide.

2. What did they say in a tale of two cities? The best of times, the worst of times, the age of wisdom, the age of foolishness. Et cetera, et cetera. Heaven and hell. England and America. How could a few lines in black ink read business as usual on side of that narrow ocean and read bonfires and death threats on the other? The best of times. The worst of times. At the moment, the latter seemed more apt.

3. "This album," George said dryly as the slide guitar trickled away, "has the distinct honour of being the first effort by an ex-Beatle to be rejected by a record company."

"They're good songs --" said Paul.

"'We don't hear a single.' That's what Warner Brothers said, " George lit a cigarette. "Do you know what a single is these days? The radio stations have been going around doing polls and they've decided a hit single is a song about love gained or lost aimed at fourteen to twenty year olds. What chance does that give me?" Paul picked at the remains of his toast and waited for that's your target audience, not mine -- something else along those lines -- but what happened was George ashed his cigarette, stood, and said, "Alright, break's over. Let me try that guitar bit again."

4. Morning dawned in a flushed glow. Sunlight picked out red and gold veins hidden within the sandstone of the temples. The carved blocks, tapering into pointed domes, were darkened by a rain that had tempered a balmy evening the night before.

this is from the george harrison being sad in india fic i havent finished because i have a beginning and ending and haven't figured out how to knit them together yet

5. No matter how swinging London got, it could never beat Paris. There was just something in the air, the attitude, the cant of light. The food, the romantic old cobblestone streets, even the grime on the townhouses had a dignified, artful quality.

from paul and john in paris 1966 fic i probably won't finish because the paul voice in this is sooo pretentious jesus

6. The letter reads:

Dear Mr & Mrs Starkey

John Winston Lennon has had Paul McCartney erased from his memory. Please never mention their relationship to him again.

Thank you.

At first, when he finds out, he’s relieved.

from mclennon eternal sunshine of the spotless mind au that i will. probably finish. sometime in the summer

fini! i'm supposed to tag ten people but i don't feel like it so i tag: @thetomboyeffect @scurator and idk anyone else who wants to do it

#midposts #just realised that i tagged the same person on two different blogs in this post. how about that #was going to pad out the list with bits of my own horribly pretentious short fiction but #thats a bit too much vulnerability for a tuesday night methinks #mid.txt

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zannolin · 10 months

Note

2, 3, 6 (for three's a crowd), 15, 17, 18 for the fae au, 23, 28 for the ask game!

2. Go to your AO3 “Works” page, to the sidebar with all the filters, and click the drop-down arrow for “Additional Tags.” What are your top 3-5 most used tags? Do you think they accurately represent your writing habits?

screaming @ how accurate these are and also the jump between the first two. i'm such a hurt comfort girlie.

3. What are some tropes or details that you think are very characteristic of your fics?

oh look i made a bingo for this that basically sums it up. throw in a little religious trauma and aro confusion. for flavor.

6. What’s one fact about the universe of [insert fic] that you didn’t get a chance to mention in the fic itself?

ohhh three's a crowd ur my fav person ever for asking this. there's actually a lot of little details and content that got cut from it while i was writing simply because it was so damn long and stuff that i liked conceptually didn't end up fitting in by the time i got around to writing. a couple things would be that riley has a lucky hoodie (the one he's wearing most of the first movie); as more time goes on, unless he's at some kind of event, he actually goes back to wearing hoodies and his glasses more than suits and contacts because (in this fic universe anyway) he was dressing professionally to try to be taken more seriously and eventually gave up/realized his friends care about him whether he's in glasses or not; and also, regardless of if emily and patrick got remarried after BoS, emily did not change her last name (back?) to gates. FUCK canon. canon is so wrong for that. that is dr. emily APPLETON. i stand by this.

15. What’s your favorite AU that you’ve written?

oh it's so harddd to choose. i think the award still has to go to without anesthetic bc man. i love my silly little fey worldbuilding. i love it so much. but the polar express au remains beloved in my heart.

17. What highly specific AU do you want to read or write even though you might be the only person to appreciate it?

i want to take the characters from the man from snowy river (1983) and i want to put them into the scorpio races universe. as a treat. for me. world's most bonkers niche fic i am the ONLY person in the target audience the target audience is when i look in the mirror. and i don't care i love it. some honorable mentions would be megstine (meg/christine from phantom of the opera) paranormal investigator au where christine is haunted and goes to meg for help; a truman show au for shazam; there was literally another that was so wildly unhinged and i forgot what it was while typing the rest of them out...rip me. it was good tho. maybe some qibli/winter/moonwatcher fic idk.

18. If you wrote a sequel to [insert fic], what would it involve?

oh for the fey au that's easy. i'll never write it since those days are gone but i told moth the one thing that i thought about writing but never got a chance to was wil meeting cornerwitch q. there just wasn't a very logical place to fit it into the narrative so they never actually interacted which is kind of a bummer but also it wasn't necessary for the story, so.

23. What’s a trope, AU, or concept you’ve never written, but would like to?

[chanting] timeloop timeloop TIMELOOP

28. Does anyone read your fics before you post them? If so, who?

no beta we die like i do every time i clock on at work. the only people who read my fics before they're posted would be whichever friend happens to be interested in the fandom i'm writing for and thus gets snippets dropped in dms on occasion. usually that means it's blu lol.

thank you for the asks <3

ask game!

#answered asks #anonymous

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h2bakugou · 3 years

Note

hi i really like your stories! can i request a bakugoxfemreader where bakugo gets hit by a love quirk and it kinda lingers for a bit and everyone teases him. then it goes away and he kinda humiliates y/n and she goes off on him and he feels bad? fluff ending please? <3!!

a/n: hiii!! thank you so much hun! of course, this idea is actually really cute omg skfkdjh yes lets do this

summary: after getting hit by a love quirk that makes bakugou a little more interested in you which only makes everyone tease him. when its effects begin to wear off, however, he insists on teasing you.

key: (y/n) - your name / (f/n) - first name / (l/n) - last name / (e/c) - eye color / (h/c) - hair color / (y/q) - your quirk

warnings: swearing, fluff, some angst im so sorry what is it with me making like borderline love angst fics lately yall-

wordcount: 2.2k

;cut for length;

»»————-　★　————-««

“We’ll just have to wait for the effects to wear off, there’s nothing we can do.” Recovery Girl was telling the truth, whether Bakugou believed it or not. He was fed up with this.

“You’ll return to the dorms, be thankful we have tomorrow off.” Mr. Aizawa instructed, letting Bakugou leave to head back to the dorms. Grumbling something under his breath, Aizawa shook his head as he watched Bakugou leave past the doors.

“Look after him.” Mr. Aizawa stated to the few class members that had come to see if he was okay. Those few students consisted of Deku, Mina, Sero, Kirishima, Kaminari, and you.

You were worried about Bakugou. Not only that he’d be dealing with the effects of a quirk for however long it lasted, which Recovery Girl estimated up to 72 hours.

But because the blast that hit him was hard. He’d took a pretty good beating from the villain alone, but he sure showed them who was boss. But not before declaring his love for you.

It was an effect of the quirk.

Bakugou was now feeling the effects of being madly in love with you. You happened to be right beside him when he was hit, making you the first person he saw when you helped him up off the ground, making you the target for his feelings.

Of course, he was under influence of the quirk, so you knew not to get ahead of yourself.

It felt awful. You felt worse than you could’ve felt. Watching your crush parade around calling you ‘his’ and acting like you really were an item, all while the rest of your classmates teased him, finally calling him soft and vulnerable.

But for the sake of not letting anyone know how you truly felt, you kept a smile on your face. You kept your head up, and only let it fall when you were in the privacy of your room, all while Bakugou blew up your phone with texts.

The effects of this god forsaken love quirk were at it’s peak on the second day when Bakugou attached himself to you. Holding you, hugging you, holding your hand, he had to be touching you or he claimed he was in agonizing pain.

So you just let it slide. You didn’t mind it, or mind his warm breath on your neck when he laid on you in public. His breath against your neck only made your face hotter, but you knew it was just the quirk.

You had to remind yourself that it was just the quirk.

“Kacchan’s all soft for you! How cute.” Kaminari teased. You shook your head. Then you heard the snap of a phone camera.

Kaminari now had a collection of pictures, all consisted of Bakugou clinging onto you somehow.

Sending it in the group chat shared between the Bakusquad, Mina was the first to respond, quoting that you should take him out on a date while you had the chance.

You didn’t feel right taking advantage of him. None of it felt right. But you couldn’t peel him off of you. You wanted this to actually be him, to actually be Katsuki Bakugou holding you close, whispering that he loved you in your ear just loud enough for you to hear.

“I’m gonna head up to my room.” You mentioned, finally pulling Bakugou’s arms off of you, but he quickly stood up.

“Where are you going, Babe?” Bakugou’s voice was the same, and it made chills run down your spine as you heard it.

“Awe!” Kaminari smiled, already shipping the two of you together.

“Shut up dunce face.” Bakugou turned to Kaminari to insult him. Kaminari just smiled and hugged him, Bakugou hugging him back for once.

You took the opportunity to run to your room.

Looking through the group chat that included Bakugou, you saw nothing but photos of Bakugou being nice. Being kind, being not himself. Hugging you, and others, being nice to Deku, like without screaming at him.

Most of the photos included you and him somehow, whether it be like just now where you were cuddling together on the couch, or how he’d held your hand.

There was still a bit of Bakugou that hadn’t completely disappeared, that was beginning to show up more and more as the effects of the quirk began to wear off.

But the pounding on your door was more than enough to keep you out of your thoughts.

Kaminari and Sero were lurking around the corner, keeping an eye on Bakugou as he knocked on your dorm door.

You quickly opened the door thinking something was wrong.

“Bakugou-”

His lips slammed onto yours, with just enough time for Kaminari to snap a picture.

Pushing him off of you, you could feel your heart racing. You shook your head and just stared at the blonde as he smiled at you.

“Go to bed, Katsuki.” You showed him your phone to indicate that it was way past his usual bedtime.

“Let me kiss you one more time idiot.” Bakugou’s voice was still so eerily familiar. It was the same one that called you a dumbass on the regular, the same one that you heard yelling as you sparred.

You didn’t know Kaminari and Sero had seen the kiss, let alone taken a picture of it.

“This isn’t you. Just go to sleep.” You were hurting, more than you should’ve been. Why couldn’t you just tease him like the rest of your friends? Why did it have to be him? Why did it have to be Bakugou?

You stayed in your room the following day, asking Jiro to politely bring you some food during lunch and dinner.

She didn’t ask questions, but she had a feeling she knew what was wrong. But she didn’t bother you, she just told you to feel better and went along with her day.

Bakugou’s texts eased up and by the end of the night, they had completely stopped.

Finally, after about two and a half days, the effects had completely worn off and the usual grumpy, egotistical, and crass Bakugou was back.

Class had gone by fine, you sat in your seat beside Bakugou, knowing he knew. Knowing he’d seen the texts, the pictures, all of it. He was a bomb waiting to go off, quite literally.

As the time dwindled down, you were on edge.

And finally it happened.

Heading to the stairs to go back up to your dorm for some alone time, to hopefully get your mind off of Bakugou entirely, he stopped you, slamming you into the wall near the stairs.

“We need to talk.” Bakugou’s eyebrows were knitted together, his red eyes were glaring into your own (e/c) ones.

“What’s there to talk about? I know you’ve seen it all already.” You looked away, taking interest in the floor.

“I know you know I know. Don’t think that it was actually me.” Bakugou didn’t want to say that. Despite being under the influence of some love quirk, those were his true feelings.

Sure keeping it all bottled up was his way of doing things, but that quirk freed up a lot of his emotions. How he felt toward you.

He didn’t want to be saying all of this, but he was.

“Don’t you think that I already know that?” You looked back up at him, hurt written all over your face.

Kaminari and Kirishima peeked their heads around the corner watching as the two of you talked. More classmates came over, watching the exchange.

“You should. I don’t like you.” Bakugou was lying. He just couldn’t say the truth. It was easier to lie about it, it was easier to keep it all inside, but seeing you like this was destroying him.

“I have liked you since we met back at the entrance exams. Do you know how awful it was to sit and watch you act like you were actually caring for me? Like you had even just the tiniest bit of interest in me? I knew it wasn’t you. I knew it was just some stupid quirk. I knew it wasn’t fucking you. Do you know how bad I wanted to kiss you back when you kissed me? Do you know how bad it hurt t shove you away like I didn’t fucking love you?” You shoved Bakugou back, now painfully aware of the audience watching you.

“Hey-”

“Save it. It’s time for you to go to bed right? Eight-thirty?” You turned and began to walk up the stairs, leaving him behind.

You picked up your pace once you were out of sight, tears beginning to flood from your eyes as you clenched your chest, your heart finally shattering into a million pieces.

“Woah dude.” Kaminari approached Bakugou.

“What?” Bakugou stared at the blonde, watching as Kaminari just sighed.

“You might want to go talk to her.” Kirishima stepped in.

“I know.” Bakugou mumbled, proceeding to head up the stairs after you.

Bakugou had his hands tucked in his pockets as he approached your dorm door. He didn’t know what to say, or how to say it.

In the middle of searching for the right thing to say, all he could think about was how he hugged you, how his hand fit perfectly in yours. How your lips felt for the few seconds they were on his.

Knocking quietly, Bakugou looked away as you pulled the door open. You didn’t say anything as you stared at him, your eyes red and puffy as tears still fell from them.

You went to close the door but Bakugou stopped it, pushing it back open as you took a few steps back into your room.

You were silent save for the muffled sounds of your crying which you cushioned with the sleeve of your sweater. You didn’t face him either.

Bakugou stared at your back. He stood quietly as he searched harder to find the words to say, to fix this mess that he’d made. Or at least had a hand in making.

“I am an asshole.” Bakugou started. Whether it bruised his ego or not, it was the truth. He couldn’t believe he’d actually said that.

You didn’t reply, despite wanting to agree with him.

“But I am so fucking in love with you.” Bakugou raised his voice just enough so you could hear the strain behind his words. Your eyes widened as you froze in place.

“And I can’t explain how I feel. I’ve never been good at it. And I was heavily influenced by that stupid fucking quirk but I swear, behind it all, I wasn’t doing it absentmindedly. I love you.” Bakugou admitted.

“And I saw all of the shit that happened and I just wanted to erase it. Because I didn’t know how you felt. I felt like an asshole even more for acting like a dumbass.”

“And I know I am an asshole but just please look at me.” Bakugou pleaded. His voice was soft again. You slowly turned around and met his eyes.

“I don’t regret anything. And I certainly don’t regret this.” Bakugou took a few steps, almost like he was running at you, and cupped your wet cheeks, bring your lips to his.

It was perfect. The feeling of your lips on his. The way they fit against his. The familiar feeling that Bakugou recalled the first time he felt your lips.

He savored it, even the vaguely salty taste from your tears. He didn’t stop, he couldn’t. He needed this. It was his antidote. You kissed him back, your hands slowly rising to meet his.

And when your palms cupped his hands, he pulled away, holding your face still as he butted his forehead to yours.

“I fucking love you, dumbass.” Bakugou smiled, the same smile he wore whenever he was being a jerk, the same smile he taunted all your classmates with, the smile that you knew belonged to Katsuki Bakugou.

“You are an asshole.” You cried, more tears falling from your eyes as you shook in his hands. Bakugou’s eyes widened, not knowing how to react.

“I love you too.” You smiled. It was all Bakugou needed to pull you into a hug, wrapping his arms around you, holding you like you were going to slip away.

After a few hours of explaining and talking, the two of you were on the same page, completely understanding of how one another felt, despite it being difficult to open up about it.

Waking up the next morning in each other’s arms was not how you expected the school day to start. You rubbed your eyes as you stared at a sleeping Katsuki hugging your side.

“Hey, wake up.” You smiled, nudging his shoulder. Bakugou quickly opened his eyes at the sound of your voice.

“Oh shit.” Bakugou glanced at the clock that sat on your bedside table and darted up.

“I’ll see you in class, love you.” Bakugou gave you a quick kiss before running out of your room and over to his.

You smiled, feeling so much better. Talking about it helped. And Bakugou was now proud to call you his. And even more so, he wasn’t ashamed of the pictures taken of him, or the dozens of messages he’d sent to you.

He was going to fill his camera roll with dozens more of pictures of you and him. Ones that allowed both of you to be open and loving toward one another, without some second-hand quirk getting in the way.

And it started with one picture of Bakugou kissing you while you laid together.

»»————-　★　————-««

masterlist

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1kook · 4 years

Text

Hi Everyone, please read

tw// racism

First of all, I just wanna say I’m so grateful for all the nice anons and interactions I get to have with people here everyday. I live in a densely populated city so quarantine regulations were super tough when this all started in March and remain strict even all the way into October. I haven’t been able to see my friends a lot or anyone outside of my family and job, which really sucked, but it was fine because I had my blog! The beginning of September I had two fics that did so amazing and of which I am so thankful for their response, because with that came a lot of new anon friends!

I have been on tumblr since 2012, but I have never received the same amount of interaction as I do now. I’m so happy I can interact with people on here be it anonymous or not. I enjoy hearing ideas and doing my best to fulfill them, hearing about someone’s day, and laughing about stupid jokes. It’s gotten to the point where some have picked names and further fleshed out our friendships because of how close we’ve gotten!! I have had so much fun everyday asking stupid questions and getting equally as silly answers and it’s all because I was able to make people feel comfortable on my blog.

However, people are not always nice. That’s fine! It’s the internet, this will always happen. Rarely do I get hateful anons and rarely do I post the few I do get. Sometimes they’re funny and I laugh and go about my day. Most anons have been about my style as an author, the types of fics I put out, and for the most part, the similarity in all my fics. I’ll address this now. if you feel my fics are all the same then consider this.

1. I write fics FOR MYSELF about ideas I have and want to see, and post them FOR MYSELF. I don’t mean to sound cocky but at the end of the day every fic i have ever posted is just me filling my own imagination in a self indulgent way. They’re all the same because they’re all things I like??? Things I want to read??? No offense, but unless I am filling a requests, you’re GONNA SEE jk college au. jk boyfriend. jk dom/sub. jk this and this. Why? Because it’s my blog and I post what I like.

2. If you don’t like my fics.... don’t read them? I am not holding you at gunpoint to read these fics nor is anyone else. If you appear on my blog to complain about my fics ... okay?? I’m not gonna change them lmao. You’re not the target audience, so move along.

But truthfully speaking, this is not the main reason I am making this post. Do I care what people online think about my fics? Mmm not really. Writing fics is something I do in my free time as a hobby. I’ve never wanted to do this professionally lmao. I do it for fun when I’m bored or procrastinating. I have other hobbies I do too. I journal i paint i play soccer I listen to music. I frankly am not offended when people critique my work, especially not when they chose to do it through an anonymous message.

What DOES offend me is when people abuse the anonymous option to be spiteful and hateful, and use my ethnic background against me... OVER KPOP. OVER FAN FIC ABOUT KPOP.

Am I offended about the first part of the ask? No I don’t care. What I am disgusted and disturbed by is that you have been blatantly racist and ignorant not only to ME but to ALL OTHER POCS with the second half of your message. Being a POC writing for BTS is bad?? What do you prefer I write about? Shawn Mendes? Niall Horan? I’d rather choke. What do you even mean??? Am I supposed to write Can fic for completely unproblematic people?? Give me an example?? Furthermore, I am not black so for you to come in here and disrespect black people with your last comment is immature, disgusting, and racist. Go to hell.

I deleted the message. I always delete excessively rude messages. I was hoping it was a one time occurrence but nope. A few hours later.

My status as an undocumented immigrant is something I have shared on tumblr because it is my safe space and somewhere where no one in real life knows me. Did you think this was funny? Did you think I actually laughed? I didn’t. I won’t lie. This ask terrified me. You’re threatening to call ICE on me.... OVER KPOP? OVER FAN FICS OF KPOP? How old are you. How immature do you have to be to take it this far.

I deleted this message and turned off anon. I am not gonna let some anonymous grey sunglasses orb abuse the anonymous option like this. Honestly, I knew another message was bound to follow up and it did 🤗

thanks for showing me your face, doll. I reported your account and so did a bunch of friends of mine. It’s funny that you mention writing better content but your blog is only ten posts? 9 of which are reblogs of fan fics? What do you write babe? What do you do? Where do you post? As I’ve said before I frankly don’t care for writing advice, this is just a hobby. But if you’re going to claim you’re some modern day Shakespeare maybe have the proof to back it up. Also your first posts says you’re a black woman, but your first ask to me says POC shouldn’t enjoy BTS.... honey all your posts are about BTS. So what’s the truth? Do we enjoy them or not? Next time you feel some type of way towards me as a Mexican woman, don’t start off by hiding behind anon until I force you off, don’t disrespect me or other POCs, and don’t use a burner account like you did. And for the record. I barely believe you’re black, and honestly speaking, everything about your asks have racist undertones only a white person could carry out.

Anyway. I am posting this because I want to highlight just how difficult it is to be a POC in this fandom. Army preach about being this or being that. We love each other. We look out for each other. ARMY is family blah blah blah.

No we’re not.

I have been an ARMY since 2015. The only places I have ever found comfort within this fandom are with other POCs, and even then it is only a few people here and there. This random ass hoe that I have NEVER interacted with before decided to take the fact I am a POC and taunt me, attack me, harass me, whatever you want to call it, and didn’t come off anon until I forced them off.

I am so beyond tired of being a POC in this fandom. When will you all recognize that one “I stand by” post is never enough to support us. “I can’t be racist I support BTS’s message💜” shut the hell up. You kiss these men’s feet for being your woke kings but then turn around and say things like this. Was it fun? Was it cool parading around in your ‘I do whatever BTS does’ cloak? You guys pick and choose when you want to be a model ARMY, and then turn around do things like this. Over kpop. Your allyship means nothing when there are still people like this in fandom who try to bully me OVER KPOP. OVER JUNGKOOK. OVER A MAN WE DONT KNOW AND NEVER WILL KNOW.

Please don’t interact with this person. Please just block and report them.

Anon’s gonna be off for a while, thanks for reading.

#please read #negative

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here4theheartbreak · 3 years

Text

An Erudite Brick Wall (myg + knj)

AO3 Link Here!

Relationships: Namjoon x Yoongi Genre: fluff, slice of life Rating: General Audiences Word Count: ~1.9k

Tags: Fluff, Slice of Life, College Professors, Drabble

Summary: Yoongi is a brick wall professor. His spouse, on the other hand, is a blabbermouth.

A/N: This fic is for @aroseforyoongi who asked for a NamGi college professor au based on this twitter post and this one, and this tumblr post

“Professor Min?”

Yoongi looked back from the board he was writing on, searching a moment to find the source of the voice that called for him. He spotted Jimin looking at him, hand partly raised. “What’s up, Mr. Park?”

“I had a question.” Jimin hesitated, chewing his bottom lip.

Yoongi lowered his marker, waiting. “Something wrong?” He asked.

“Well, no… I just…” Jimin sighed. “Look, I like this person.”

Yoongi cocked a brow, his mouth curving up into a confused smile before he hid it. “That’s very nice for you, Mr. Park. Now, if we can get back to the lesson…”

“No, it’s… Well I wanna get him something. But we’ve been talking so much about needless spending and the capitalization of romance, I don’t want to just buy him a new headset or flowers. How did you impress your husband when you two were starting? Did you make things, or did you end up buying things?”

“I would buy when I had to, from small shops or independent places, and then just spend more time creating. He—” Yoongi paused. He looked at Jimin, narrowing his gaze. “How’d you know I had a husband?” He asked.

Jimin’s brows furrowed. “Well, he told me.”

Yoongi nodded slowly, confusion still written on his face. “Anyways, you bring up a very good point. Because romance has become such a target of capitalism, we really do have to be creative when we’re thinking of ways to combat it.” He turned back to the board, continuing to write as he spoke.

Yoongi didn’t think much about the incident for the next few days. His husband was a professor in the university – maybe he’d let it slip to a student or two that he was married to Yoongi. Though, the likelihood of said student taking any of Yoongi’s courses was slim – they were in such different departments that overlap was nearly impossible.

“Hey, Professor Min.”

Yoongi glanced up. He smiled softly at Jungkook, a bright student that he thoroughly enjoyed teaching. “What’s up, Jungkook?”

Jungkook entered, smiling sheepishly. “I know it’s a few minutes before your office hours, but I wanted to bring you this.” He set a small jar on Yoongi’s desk.

“What is this?”

“It’s a salve that I use after games.”

Yoongi’s brows furrowed. Jungkook rubbed the back of his neck. “Namjoon—Ah, Professor Kim. He mentioned you went pretty hard a couple of days ago, playing basketball and your knees were hurting a lot still. I—Uh, He too, uh… We thought this might help.”

Yoongi nodded in understanding, picking up the jar. “Thank you, Jungkook. That’s very thoughtful. It will certainly make standing for lessons less painful.”

Jungkook smiled brightly. He turned to go.

“Oh, wait—” Yoongi called him back. He steepled his fingers and rested his chin on them. “You have a class with Kim Namjoon?”

“Yeah, I take his water ecology course.”

“Aren’t you a social justice major?”

Jungkook chuckled. “I am, yeah. My um… My roommate is an environmental science major. We wanted to learn more about each other’s majors so he took a class in my degree field and I’m taking one in his.”

“Ah, okay. And… Just how much does Namjoon talk about his marriage in your class?”

Jungkook laughed brightly. “Oh he loves talking about you two.”

“Does he?” Yoongi laughed without much humor.

“I mean, it’s not like it’s a secret or anything,” Jungkook said, waving his hand. His smile drooped when he realized that Yoongi wasn’t smiling. “It’s… Not a secret, right?” He asked.

“Apparently not,” Yoongi said. He smiled. “Thank you for the salve, Jungkook. I’ll see you in class this evening.”

Jungkook smiled nervously, his eyes wide as he backed out of the office.

***

A knock sounded at Yoongi’s door late in the evening. He glanced at the clock on his computer; it was well past office hours. If he wasn’t mistaken, the doors were mostly closed to students at this hour. “Yes?” He called.

“It’s me,” Namjoon’s voice echoed through the thick glass.

“Ah, it’s open.”

Namjoon pushed open the door and slipped inside, shutting it. “I’m finished up with my office work for the day. Are you about ready?”

“Just about,” Yoongi said, looking back to his computer. Namjoon settled into the couch he had in the corner of his office (not for midday naps at all, nope), and pulled a book from his bag.

Yoongi glanced up, his interaction with Jungkook drifting back into his mind.

“So I learned you have Jeon Jungkook as a student, I had no idea.”

Namjoon looked up over his book, his glasses slipping a little down his nose. His brows furrowed in thought, then widened. “Ah! Yes, he’s a great student. Promising young man when he’s not distracted by that boy he likes.”

Yoongi smirked. “His roommate?” He asked, making air quotes around the word.

Namjoon chuckled. “The very same. I’m quite confused as to how they haven’t gotten the picture yet.”

“If I recall it took you a good year to ask me out,” Yoongi said casually, sipping his coffee as he looked back at the computer.

“In my defense, I assumed you were taken for a good portion of that time.”

“Hm,” Yoongi pacified. “But you also didn’t bother to ask.”

Namjoon grinned, his dimples carving into his cheeks. Yoongi smiled helplessly. “You’re lucky you’re cute.”

“What do you mean?” Namjoon asked.

“I should be mad at you.”

“Me? Why?”

Yoongi clicked out of the document he was finishing up and shut down the computer. He spun in his chair to the center of the desk, beginning to gather his things up and tuck them into his own backpack.

“You have been a bit indiscrete lately.”

“Regarding…” Namjoon questioned.

“Us. I heard you love to talk about our marriage. Namjoon, we decided early on that we would do our best to prevent bavadarge about our relationship.”

“B—Bavadarge?” Namjoon laughed as he spoke. “Pulling out the big guns.”

“Joon,” Yoongi pleaded.

“I get it, Yoongi. But seriously, it doesn’t matter. We’re not… I mean – We’re definitely not closeted by any means.”

“No, of course not. I just…” Yoongi shrugged. “You know how private I am.”

Namjoon smiled softly. He rose and went to Yoongi, circling around the desk and crouching beside the chair. “I know. And I’d never do anything to make you uncomfortable on purpose, you know that. We don’t usually have overlapping students. Most of the time my talk about our marriage and home life is irrelevant.”

“I know. We just happen to this time, so it’s… Come to my attention. Makes me wonder what you’ve told your classes about us.” He shrugged sheepishly. “I don’t want to become the dunce around here because you’ve said something accidentally incriminating.”

Namjoon chuckled. “The only incriminating thing I’ve let slip about you is that you’re a total softie with our dogs.”

Yoongi laughed a little at that. “Fair enough… But still.”

Namjoon nodded. “I’m sorry I violated your trust. I didn’t mean to, Yoongi. I love you so deeply. And sometimes I just want to shout from the rooftop how perfect we are together, how perfect you are for me. We’ve been lovers for a decade now, marriage was just a formality and we both know it. I’ve always been wholly dedicated to you. I’d never hurt you.”

“You haven’t,” Yoongi assured him, taking his hands. “I was just taken aback. I speak so little about my personal life to students, let alone the ins and outs of my marriage… I had just assumed that you were the same. I should have considered that you wouldn’t be. You’re so open and honest about everything.”

“And you’re a bit of a brick wall,” Namjoon joked. Yoongi laughed and nodded.

“Yeah, a little bit. I’m not upset. We don’t usually have student overlap, like you’d said. It isn’t normally even a point of discussion.”

“The boys are good students,” Namjoon said. “They both adore you – I know they’d never violate your trust or do anything offensive.”

“Both? Ah… Jimin as well, right?”

Namjoon nodded. “Yes, he’s the object of our Mr. Jeon’s affections it seems.”

Yoongi chuckled. “He asked me a while ago how to best get a gift for a crush without falling prey to the capitalism of romance. I assume he was likely talking about Jungkook.”

“Probably.” Namjoon leaned forward, kissing Yoongi’s mouth. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you I was open about us in my classes.”

“No need,” Yoongi said, squeezing his hand. “It just took me by surprise. I’m fine with it.”

“I’ll be more discrete, if you’d prefer.”

“No, it’s fine. Share away. Just keep the gory and graphic details between us… No need for your students to learn how amazing my oral sex skills are.”

Namjoon snorted, laughing a little. “Your ego is as big as this campus.”

“Rightfully so.” Yoongi rose, helping Namjoon stand. “We’ll go home… I’ll prove those skills once again, if you’d prefer.”

“Never going to turn that down,” Namjoon rumbled. The two left the office. On the way to their car, Yoongi slid an arm around Namjoon’s middle, pulling him closer. “Don’t be so tense,” he murmured. “You’re acting like a shy Freshman again.”

“You’ve never held me on campus in public like this,” Namjoon said. He leaned into him a little, relaxing. “It’s nice.”

“It is.” Yoongi agreed, slowing their walk to a leisurely pace. The night was cool, but not uncomfortably so, the stars were visible over the buildings and trees of the campus.

“I meant to mention,” Namjoon began. “The pride club is having a fundraiser next month for Halloween. It’s a costume party. They’ll be putting on a contest for best costume and having a drag show, as well as screening some cheesy horror movies.”

“That sounds nice. Any particular cause?”

“A local queer youth center in the city. They’re always in need of funding and volunteers. They’ve helped a lot of the students, I guess. Jimin… Is one of the leaders of the club.”

“Ah, I see.”

“And he’s inquired… About having some professor support there.”

Yoongi chuckled. “Why do I feel a question coming?”

“He asked if we’d be willing to make an appearance together. It would do wonders for the students to see two of their professors out and happy. I’m going to be going anyways and will be speaking. You’d be under no obligation to speak, of course, but…”

Yoongi smiled. He pressed a kiss to Namjoon’s cheek. “Do you have an idea for costumes?”

Namjoon looked over, his brows rising in surprise.

“What? You expect me to go to a costume party with my husband not wearing a costume? What sort of saturnine jerk do you take me to be?”

Namjoon chuckled. “Fair enough. How about a brick wall?” He suggested. Yoongi glared over at him playfully. “Well, then you’ll need to find a way to dress as a blabbermouth, won’t you? A giant mouth, perhaps. You can dress in red and be the tongue.”

Namjoon glared, wrinkling his nose. He stuck his tongue out. Yoongi scoffed.

“Juvenile.”

“You started it.”

“I will withhold sex tonight, Kim Namjoon – don’t test me.”

Namjoon grinned then, and Yoongi broke as well. They began to laugh together, a bright sound in the quiet night.

“You’ll really go with me?” Namjoon asked as they separated to go to the appropriate sides of their car.

Yoongi nodded. “I will. It’s for a good cause, and Jimin’s a sweet kid. We’ll of costumes for us.”

Namjoon nodded. They got into the car and headed back to their home, throwing out costume ideas that ranged from obscene to absurd, and laughing the entire time.

#thebtswritersclub #networkbangtan #bangtanarmynet #namgi #namjoon x yoongi #slice of life #fluff #mywriting

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multi-fandom-freak0221 · 4 years

Text

The Shell of a Girl that I Used to Know Well

Inspired by "Love of three" by @misashabunbun

Thank you @thestressmademedoit and @maleive07 for helping me find the fic.

So this turned out to be longer than I thought it would be (probably because I based it around like 5 songs) so I'll break it into parts and post each part separately. Oh and did I mention this is songfic? Because it's a songfic! No Felix yet, but you guys do see Peter but I surprise surprise I turned this into an OT4 pairing. Anyone wanna guess who the other lucky person is to date Mari, Peter and Felix? Also bonus points for anyone who can figure out Mari's stage name.

The song in this part in Stitches by Shawn Mendes and The Lonely by Christina Perri is where I got this parts title from. Also the song mentioned at the end is Partners in Crime by Set It Off ft Ashley Costello.

Marinette Dupain-Cheng was grateful for the quiet she found in what she was pretty sure was some kind of presentation room. There was a raised platform which she believes is supposed to be some kind of stage and a couple of tables with chairs surrounding them. She still has no idea how she got here, she was just trying to find some peace. She knew her pseudo Uncle and her friends meant well but they were suffocating her. It's been over a week since she left that bastard, not likely that he even noticed. Since Marinette has gotten to Stark Towers everyone has been treating her like she's about to break and she can't stand it. Yes she's hurt, but like give her a chance to fall apart before trying to shove her back together again! Marinette took a deep breath to calm herself as she sat on the little stage to work on the embroidery she was putting on the back of the blouse. She already had a full heart there but it was kind of plain. She wanted to add something but she didn't know what.

She sighed softly. At times she really missed Tikki being around to be her second opinion.

Ever since the defeat of Hawkmoth the kwamis asked to be renounced and to have their respective jewelry return the Miraculous box. They were working together to heal poor Nooroo and Dusuu. Even though Marinette had been able to fully fix the peacock Miraculous, as well as heal Emilie Agreste and Nathalie Sancour from the effects of using a broken Miraculous, the two kwamis had to deal with a significant amount of emotional trauma from the whole affair.

Even though the final battle had been won quietly without casualties it had taken a lot out of everyone who had been a part of it. Adrien's relationship with his father has been very strained to say the least. Even though Gabriel is doing his best to right his wrongs, it goes to say that the only reason Adrien even speaks to his father at all is because of his mother who is desperately trying to make up for years lost between the two of them.

While Marinette was trying to think of an idea for her embroidery she started humming a song she had heard recently on the radio. In her eyes it fit her past relationship with Damian Wayne perfectly. Soon enough she was singing softly.

I thought that I've been hurt before

But no one has ever left me quite this sore.

Even on their worst days Lila's lies, Alya's beratings, hell even Mlle. Bustier's looks of disappointment never hurt half as much as Damian's total disinterest did. She had cooked him a nice romantic dinner yet he barely acknowledged her. More interested in whatever, or should she say whoever, was on his phone. After 5 mins of trying to carry the conversation alone Marinette sighed and just decided to eat the meal she worked so hard on. After 10 mins of stiff silence in their shared apartment, only filled with the sounds of Marinette eating and Damian texting, the latter got up. Grabbing his coat he made his way to the door, barely turning his head towards his fiancee to call out "I've got to go. Something came up at work."

Marinette wasn't even shocked anymore, just resigned. Still she tried to reason with the man she no longer recognized. Sometimes she wonders if she ever truly knew him at all. "You just got here. Isn't there someone else who can handle it? You haven't even touched your dinner."

True to her words, the young heir's meal sat completely untouched, quickly cooling in the AC.

"Mari, you know these things are important. Not just anyone can handle them." Damian's words were patronizing at best. It frustrated the young designer, but she didn't let it show.

"Will you be back tonight?" She knew the answer but she asked anyway.

Damian hummed noncommittally as he walked through the door still looking at his phone and not the beautiful young lady in front of him. "Most likely not. Don't wait up for me." He quickly walked out, closing the door behind him. Marinette quickly placed her ear to the door as he walked away from the humble abode. She could hear him on the phone.

"Yeah. I'm on my way, gorgeous. I just left." Silence. "No, she doesn't suspect a thing." Nothing but his footsteps as he continues to leave unknowing of her distress behind the apartment "Perfect. The less you're wearing, the better."

Marinette crumbled to the floor after she could no longer hear him. She had suspected as much but that didn't make hearing it less painful.

Your words cut deeper than a knife

Now I need someone to breathe me back to life

She remembers the first time he truly yelled at her. The way he looked at her with disgust. The way she flinched away from his imposing figure and his cutting words. If tried hard enough she could delude herself that he was doing this out of her best interest. The illusion made even easier to believe by the way he apologized and hugged her after he stopped yelling. The way he told her he was worried about her going out and being made a target to Rogues because of her connection to him. The way he feared that he disguises wouldn't be enough even though he himself didn't recognize her at first when she walked back through the apartment door the day. She believed she was safer staying in the apartment because he said so and he only wants what's best for her. So eventually the walls of their apartment was all she saw 24/7. For her safety of course.

Got feeling that I'm going under

But I know I will make it out alive

If quit calling you my lover

And move on

Marinette's head was spinning. Or was it the room? Was she even breathing? She couldn't focus on any of that. All she could focus on was the picture sitting on the screen on her phone. The phone Damian had bought her. The idea made her feel sick now because all those gifts he was giving her now seemed to have double meanings. Especially when the picture filling her screen was of a naked Lila whose body was hidden behind a sheet lying on Damian's bare chest while he slept. She didn't even think to process how the lying bitch managed to get her number. Instead all she could focus on was tears streaming down her face as she felt her heart shatter. She didn't even process the fact that she left the phone right there with the picture still on the screen and started packing her stuff. She grabbed everything that was hers that she bought herself, later on she'd be surprised at how little that was. She stuffed her things in a small suitcase, put the miracle box in a duffle bag wrapped in her leftover fabric from commissions, grabbed her purse with her wallet and left. After locking the apartment door she slid the key underneath the door so he could have it back. He could have everything back he ever gave her. She was done. She was so distressed she didn't even notice that she had put on the one disguise she had and taken a train to New York until she was standing in the lobby of Stark Tower with her Uncle Tony and her Aunt Pepper holding her while she sobbed.

You watch me bleed until I can't breathe

I'm shaking, falling onto my knees

And now that I'm without your kisses

I'll be needing stitches

Tripping over myself

Aching, begging you to come help

And now that I'm without your kisses

I'll be needing stitches

Marinette was so engrossed in the lyrics, in her feelings, that she didn't notice the tears falling from her eyes, nor the way she was furiously embroidering the shirt in her hands. And she definitely didn't notice that she had gained an audience.

Just like a moth drawn to a flame

Yeah you lured me in and I couldn't sense the pain

The first time she met Damian it had been an accident. She knew when her classes started she wouldn't have the time to get the fabrics she needed for her last commissions that she agreed to before going on hiatus. She knew juggling her business and school would be hard so told her clients she'd be on break for the unforeseeable future. She was so focused on her phone trying to make sure her list was complete, that she didn't notice the man right in front of her.

"Oh!" She fell back with a little yelp and when she saw what, or who, she ran into she hurried to help them up as well. "I'm so sorry monsieur. Are you okay?"

The man yanked his hand away from her and growled, "You wouldn't be having to ask if you weren't caught up in whatever idiotic nonsense is on your phone."

Marinette fumed silently. "Well excuse me sir, I don't know who you think you are, but that is uncalled for. I apologized and helped you up. All you had to do was walk away. No need to be so rude."

Damian raised an eyebrow at her curiously. "You don't know who I am?"

Marinette crossed her arms still annoyed. "Am I supposed to? You could be the president for all I cared and I still would say you were being rude and disrespectful."

Damian's expression changed slightly to a bit of amused intrigue. "I apologize. I thought you were another fangirl with some kind of ruse to get my attention. If you don't mind me asking, what is a girl like you doing in a city like Gotham? I can tell from your accent you are not from here."

Marinette relaxed a little bit. "I'm here going to college when the semester starts, but right now I was out doing some shopping."

"Perhaps I could join you as a way to apologize for my rude behavior. I could give you a mini tour along the way." Damian smiled softly at her.

"I don't know," apprehension was clear on Marinette's face. "I don't even know you let alone your name."

Damian chuckled lightly. "I assure you, even if you don't know me, the rest of the city does. I won't be able to get away with doing anything to you without being plastered across every newspaper and magazine in town, Angel. But my name is Damian by the way. Damian Wayne." He grabbed her hand and kissed it softly after his introduction.

"A-angel?" Marinette stuttered as she blushed.

"Well, I still don't know your name."

Marinette smiled before introducing herself. "My name is Marinette. Your company would be much appreciated, Damian"

Your bitter heart cold to the touch

Now I'm going to reap what I sow

I'm left seeing red on my own

Sometimes on nights like these Marinette wondered what she did wrong. Because it had to be her of course. Why else would Damian go from her caring, charming, wonderful, Dove to Gotham's very own cold, unfeeling, ruthless, Ice Prince.

"Hi, Damian. You're home early." Marinette tried not to let the hope seep into her voice. She had a feeling she wasn't successful.

Damian barely grunted at her as he continued to their room. "My idiots brothers dragged me into spending some time with them so I'm forced to change into something less formal."

"Oh okay." She knew she did an even worse job of hiding her disappointment. "You know I finished Uncle Jagged's outfit the other day. He loved it."

Damian hummed noncommittally. She knew he wasn't paying attention, he never was but she kept trying.

"You know how he's doing that "World's Greatest" Tour. Celebrating the hero's of the world in their respective cities. Luka's been opening for him. His career has really taken off. Hell I'm sure half the tickets Uncle Jagged sells are people just trying to see Luka. He'll have to tour solo soon."

"I bet." Damian's voice was muffled from being the closet, but she could still hear the disinterest in his voice.

She sighed as she leaned against the doorframe of "their" room. It was only theirs in name the fact that his clothes were there. She spent almost every night there alone. She took a deep breath trying to gather her courage for what she was going to ask. "Well they wanted to thank me for the outfits. Claimed the tour would have been half as successful without them. They invited me to take me out to dinner tonight to catch up, then for me to hang out backstage during their show. They said they missed me." Marinette hoped he still wasn't paying attention, but as soon as he settled his famous glare on her, she knew she wasn't that lucky. She flinched into herself under his gaze.

"Marinette. You know what would happen if you left this apartment. The famous Wayne Heir's sweet vulnerable fiance. The one never seen in the media anymore. You would get off this block before your picture would be on every media outlet in the city. Then you would be the Rogues target for the night. They would go anywhere you would be. Including the concert. Would you really be so selfish to endanger hundreds, possibly thousands of innocent concert goers just to 'hang out' with people you can see any time you please?" The disappointment on his face and the coldness of his delivery had her feeling ashamed. She hung her head low trying to hold back the tears.

"I'm sorry." She knew her voice was barely above whisper, but if she tried to speak any louder she knew she'd open the flood gatesp.

Damian brushed past her. "You should be. I'll be heading to the concert with my brothers. I'll inform Jagged of your apologies for not coming."

"Just telling him I'm sick." She offered weakly still not looking up from the floor.

She could feel his judgeful look on her. "Of course not. He'll insist on coming to check on you then he'll see your lying. I'll tell him you're busy with commissions." He left her standing there as headed to leave again. She heard his phone ring and he answered it harshly. "I'm coming down, Todd!" "Of course not, you imbecile! She's a serious designer who can't be bothered out of her schedule to spend time with my idiotic brothers, especially when she's up to her nose in commissions!" She heard the door shut after that statement. I guess her soon to be brothers in law didn't know the real reason behind her lock down either. She stood there for a few more moments before she broke down into loud heavy sobs. She collapsed to her knees and just cried. Not for the first nor last time in that prison she called an apartment.

Got feeling that I'm going under

But I know I will make it out alive

If quit calling you my lover

And move on

You watch me bleed until I can't breathe

I'm shaking, falling onto my knees

And now that I'm without your kisses

I'll be needing stitches

Tripping over myself

Aching, begging you to come help

And now that I'm without your kisses

I'll be needing stitches

Needle and the thread

Gotta get you out my head

Her hands were moving furiously as she was trying to rid her mind of her cruel ex.

Needle and the thread

Gonna wind up dead

She wanted to forget everything about him.

Needle and the thread

Gotta get you out my head

His smile, his laugh, the loving look in his eyes.

Needle and the thread

Gonna wind up dead

His kisses, his hugs, the way he held her like he was afraid of losing her

Needle and the thread

Gotta get you out my head

His scowl, his glare, his need to hide her from the world

Needle and the thread

Gonna wind up dead

His distance, his apathy, the way he was happy in any other girl's arms but her's

Needle and the thread

Gotta get you out my head

Get you out of my head.

She wanted to forget loving him and hating him. She wanted her happiness back

You watch me bleed until I can't breathe

Shaking, falling onto my knees

And now that I'm without your kisses

I'll be needing stitches

Tripping over myself

Aching, begging you to come help

And now that I'm without your kisses

I'll be needing stitches

And now that I'm without you kisses

I'll be needing stitches

I'll be needing stitches.

As she finished singing she awoke from her haze. She felt the tears on her face and wiped them away before looking to see what she had made. The simple heart from before now had a jagged line down the middle that stopped a quarter of the way to the bottom to represent a break. From the bottom it looked like the heart was dripping. The most noticeable change was the crude yet tasteful stitches that laid over the break in the heart. They weren't neat as if she were suggesting they were professionally done. The way she laid them subconsciously represented as if they were self done by someone trying their best.

While she was studying her impromptu embroidery a voice surprised her. "It looks nice."

She looked up in shock to see a brown haired boy around her age, 21 maybe 22, sitting at the table closest to the stage she was on. He looked as if he had been there for a while.

"Sorry I didn't mean to scare you. I heard you singing so I came to see who it was because you have a beautiful voice, but then I saw you crying and I wanted to make sure you were okay, but you seem really focused and I didn't want to interrupt, but I didn't want to just leave you either, but- I'm sorry I'm rambling. My name is Peter. Are you okay?" The boy, Peter, asked her softly, looking concerned. For Marinette it was enough.

She had sat in the chair next to him and finally let out everything she was holding in. The tears were flowing freely now "I don't know. I'm so mad, so hurt, so confused. Where did it go wrong? One minute I'm getting my business degree at Gotham University, the next I'm in a relationship with Damian Wayne. It was amazing he was so kind and sweet and loving and he made me so happy. Then next thing I know after dating for about a year and half he proposes. I'm on cloud 9 and I say yes and I'm so excited for what's to come, but suddenly everything changes. Next thing I know he's saying I can't leave the apartment because he wants me to be safe from the Rogues and I accepted it. Then he's yelling at me for trying to sneak out and I'm thinking I deserve it. I should have just stayed home and he's already apologizing for yelling. Then suddenly he's gone more and more. He's never home and I'm alone and it hurts. Then suddenly I'm selfish for asking to go out to see my friends because how can I put everyone at risk just to go see some friends who I can see anytime I want. Yet nobody is ever allowed over. But I still believe he's right. How can I be So now I'm alone and miserable and it hurts because he keeps getting further and further from me and I'm starting to suspect what's going on but I'm too scared to ask him because if he confirms it, then everything I believed in is a lie and I couldn't live with that. But I didn't even have to ask because soon someone is sending me a picture and it's the girl who made my school life hell by taking everyone I thought was my friend away from me with a few far fetched lies, and here she is laying naked on my fiance's naked chest as he sleeps. And I know he knows who she is and what she did to me because I told him. Yet he doesn't care because here he is fucking her while I'm at home all the time because he told me to be. So I grabbed my stuff and left everything he ever got me and just left. So here I am miserable staying with my Uncle Tony trying not to think about the asshole while my friends try to help me feel better yet I feel terrible because I loved the jerk and I still kinda do and I still have the engagement ring which I should pawn, but it was Bruce's mom's ring and that would be wrong and Bruce would be devastated. Why do I care so much about him and his family when he couldn't be bothered with me?" She felt better after finally letting it all out. She hadn't cried since she came to Uncle Tony. Not when Adrien arrived with Kagami, Marc, and Nathaniel, not when Luka arrived with Uncle Jagged and not even when Chole and Alix arrived. All her friends and pseudo family were there yet she hadn't cried once, nor had she actually told them the full story. But here this stranger asked if she was okay and she let it flow like Niagara Falls.

If Peter was shocked by her rant he didn't let it show. Instead he placed a hand on her before speaking softly "Because you are an amazing person who is a million times better than him. He is insane to choose anyone over you especially someone so foul as a desperate liar. I just met you, but I can already tell that you are a kind hearted, talented girl and anyone would be lucky to have you in their lives and I can tell by the crowd over there by the door that you have many people standing with you who already figured that out." Marinette looked up at his words to see her friends and pseudo uncles and their respective wives standing in the door.

"Hi guys." As soon as Marinette finished speaking they all rushed towards her. Adrien reached her first pulling her into a tight hug.

"Oh bugaboo, I'm so sorry you had to go through this. Are you okay? Why didn't you tell us, princess?" He buried his face in her neck purring slightly in a way that calmed her.

"I guess I was still processing everything kitty. He really had me thinking he loved me and to find out he didn't was a hard blow." She confessed quietly.

"He'll meet my blade for hurting you, Mari," Kagami seemed to have Chole, Alix and surprisingly, Marc ready to back her.

"No, Gami, I just want to get over him. He's not worth it." Mari remarked sadly before smiling at her friends. "But thank you, all of you, for having my back."

There were various "Of course" and "Always" that were heard among the group before Tony Stark cleared his throat. "Marinette let me properly introduce Peter Parker, my intern. Peter, this is my niece Marinette Dupain-Cheng also known as MDC owner and head designer of Miracle Designs."

Peter looked star struck. "I love your work. You make the coolest clothes on the planet."

Marinette blushed lightly. "Thank you, Peter. Uncle Tony told me much about you and I was always impressed. You're nothing short of a genius." Marinette missed Peter's blush as she started introducing her friends to him, but Tony didn't.

"This is Adrien Agreste, former model and Physics major. This is Kagami Tsurugi, world champion fencer. This is Luka Couffanie, singer songwriter signed under Jagged Stone. They're dating. This is Nathaniel Kurtzberg and Marc Anciel creators of Miraculous Tales comic. They're engaged. This is Chole Bourgeois, the best lawyer in all of France and probably Europe. And this is Alix Kubdel, X Games Winner, and famous archeologists. These two are also engaged. I'm sure you know Jagged Stone and his manager and also his wife, Penny."

"You guys are amazing! None of you look much older than me yet you're already so successful! What is in the water in Paris? Some kind of talent steroids?" Peter was amazed.

"Speaking of talent," Luka turned towards Marinette. "Melody why didn't you tell me you could sing like that?" Soon everyone was agreeing that she was an excellent singer.

Marinette was bright red. "It's no big deal guys. I was just singing to myself, I wasn't expecting an audience."

Jagged took his chance to pull his pseudo niece into a hug. "Nettie, my girl you have got to let me sign you. It would be so rocking to have talent like yours produced under my label!"

"No way Uncle Jagged! I'm not even that good!" Marinette began protesting before Luka put a hand on her shoulder.

"How about this? I need some vocals for a song I wrote and no matter how much I love them, my dear boyfriend and girlfriend can not sing." Adrien and Kagami looked at each other before shrugging. No point denying it. "How about you feature in my new single under an alias and if it's hit you'll give an album a try?"

Marinette looked around at some of the most important people in the world to her before sighing and agreeing.

"Alright. But no promises that this will be hit. I'm really not that good. You guys are just biased."

Alix ruffled Marinette's hair. "Whatever you say, DC. Now let's go play some UMS3!"

As everyone was heading out to find a room large enough for all of them Peter prepared to go back to work on a project until Marinette turned back to him with a huge smile and bright eyes. "Come on Peter! Come play with us."

How could he say no to that? So he came along.

A couple weeks later Luka's single "Partners in Crime" featuring Neon Titanium hit number one on the charts. And the most searched inquiry on Google for 3 days following was "who is Neon Titanium?" Needless to say Marinette was busy for the next couple months. Especially after Luka dropped a music video which she starred in as well wear a full face mask to stay hidden.

#maribat salt #maribat #spideybug #felinette #past Mari x Dami #marivenger #ex daminette #neon titanium #moving on

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