#in case you wonder the kind of company i keep

[chechecheer]

tgcf as things my friends and family have said

#Che's Art #tgcf #tgcf art #tgcf fanart #heaven official's blessing #heaven official's blessing fanart #heaven official's blessing art #mu qing art #hua cheng #hua cheng art #this one is entirely hua cheng woops #whatever i love him #all of these quotes came from the same person #in case you wonder the kind of company i keep #mu qing

[kenjakusbraincum]

can you pls write something about reader being sick and like not the cough and cold kind of sick- like really really sick, and sukuna realising how much he doesn't want to lose her to this sickness and how if she dies, he'll be alone again..🥺

You have NO idea how much I love this idea!!! I did go a bit overboard with it cause I love suffering though 👍 Still, this was SO much fun to write and I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it!

Vows

Sukuna x Reader

Word count: 4.5k

Tags/warnings: gn! reader, true form! sukuna, master/pet dynamic, fluff but most importantly ANGST, mentions of weight loss, mentions of violence, implied nsfw, reader dies in the end :( (sorry)

It's not the first time Sukuna has been made aware of your mortality. He recalls many instances when he's been reminded that you are human. Finite. The first time he wrapped his hand around your throat and squeezed with calculation while you were laying under him, and you looked up at him in fear for your life. Your little hand couldn't even wrap around his wrist, much less provide resistance. Or when he'd pull your hair a little too roughly, and hear a crack in your delicate spine. When you'd get sick, and humbly refuse his healing. So little as a tummy ache had you writhing on your bed.

You are so weak, so small, clinging to life like there was anything for you in it, beyond Sukuna. By all means he hates all of these things. So what witchery is this, and why does he care about you so much? Why does he keep you for years, and why does your company bring him comfort he hasn't ever known in his lifetime?

Still, as much as he cares, he doesn't notice when it starts. He's trained you to tolerate pain, after all. It's no wonder you hesitate to tell him. Little things like tummyaches and colds occur to you all the time anyways, and you never complain. Sure, you've grown closer to Sukuna, but he was still your master, and the rules he instilled in you from the start were always fresh in your mind, not to be crossed. Bothering him with everything that feels off always seemed inappropriate.

And Sukuna is just like that. If you're not screaming or crying, he won't know you're in pain. But he notices that you're acting off. And how he reacts really doesn't help your case, or encourage you to speak up about your condition. ''I don't have all day. What is wrong with you?'', he sneers when he catches you pacing too far behind him.

So you just sleep longer and preserve energy for when you are with him. You don't skip around as much anymore, or spend time doing your hobbies. Food doesn't taste so great anymore. You have a cough that gives you sleepless nights because it just won't calm down. And the time you owe Sukuna starts to feel like an obligation. You start to dread it. Dread slipping up, dread annoying him or failing to satisfy him. Dread being disposable.

When things start getting worse, it's hard to hide it even from him. He was taking you from behind one night, and you were grateful he couldn't see the look on your face. You thought you could do it. Sukuna was always demanding, but he would never force you to do anything. If only you told him before you felt yourself struggling for air, and your chest closing in on itself in tightness. You reached one hand back, frantically grabbing his wrist.

''Feathers, feathers!'', words came out as gasps, and you slumped forward when he let you go. You were panicked and crying by then, this kind of discomfort being foreign even to you, even after weeks of pain behind you. He hovered next to you with a puzzled look on his face. He wasn't even being that rough.

''What's wrong? Tell me.'', he said, and reached his hand to feel the warmth of your tears streaming down your face. He swiped your cheek gently. He didn't seem mad at all. Why didn't you say anything from the start?

''I just feel so sick.'', you muster up in between sobs, and shut your eyes. You were too embarrassed to even look at him.

''I see.''. His hand leaves your face, and he traces it from your neck down your spine. The pain subsided slowly, allowing you to relax and find comfort in his arms.

But the effects of his healing were short lived. Just a week later the feeling of fatigue creeps back into your life. Manageable, but lingering. And the cough persists. And it gets on Sukuna's nerves too. He's been quite patient with you, but his patience was reaching it's limit.

You're sitting by his throne as you often do, and as hard as you try to hold the cough in, you just can't help it. His hand finds the back of your neck and squeezes, turning you to him. And he looks at you with all four, terrifying eyes. ''Can you shut up?''

''I'm sorry, I'm trying -'', you stutter, but just end up coughing more. He doesn't wait for you to stop.

''Get out of here.'', and pushes you away. You stumble down the pile of bones and fall, landing on your hands and knees. You don't remember him being this cruel to you in a long time. You look back at him with teary eyes, and he looks back like the merciless monster he is. The villagers awaiting him moved to make space for your fall, taking note of the tense situation.

That day, Sukuna sends word that he doesn't want to see you until you get better. You're forbidden from going outside again, in fear that that is making your 'cold' worse. It's a lonely week in your room, until Sukuna starts to crave you again. It didn't take him a while, counting the couple days he spent convincing himself he doesn't miss you. He does. So when he sends word for you again, and the servants come back to him saying you're still not feeling well... he's worried. So worried he comes to see it for himself.

Sukuna rarely comes to your room. It's the only space you have for yourself, and he doesn't want to take that away from you. Your room is modest. You have a bed, a carpet, and a couple shelves to house the books he's gifted you. There's a desk where you can eat and read, and a doorway to the garden. There's an empty glass of water and a napkin next to your bed. You're still sleeping, but the door shutting behind him wakes you up, so he doesn't get to enjoy observing you in your natural habitat for long.

It's not the first time doors opening and closing woke you up. But you know this time is different. The servants are always quickly shuffling around the room, cleaning up and moving around. Uraume clanks with plates. There is no noise now, other than your strained breathing and a cough brewing in the back of your throat. Besides, the aura that Sukuna brings with him everywhere he goes is recognizable. Especially to you. Heavy.

You turn around, and meet the gaze of his four eyes. ''Master...'', you struggle to sit up, and even a little action like that has spots forming in your vision. Then a coughing fit hits you. You pick up the napkin and put it to your mouth.

Sukuna sees your whole body strain with the effort of coughing. And when you call him master, even your voice sounds different. He knows your morning voice. He missed hearing it, but this... this is not it. You sit with your head hung low, staring at the napkin between your hands. There's a fresh splatter of blood on it. But Sukuna scares you more than the progression of your illness.

''Are you mad at me?'', you ask timidly, meeting his gaze.

''I'm concerned.", he says and sits next to you. You curl up to make space for him. "Two weeks is a long time for a frail human like you to be sick.", he looks at you, scanning your form up and down.

"I rested and drank every tea Uraume told me to!", your defense mechanism kicks in, and you start babbling.

Sukuna dismisses you with a hand and a pained facial expression. "I know.", he says. His brows are furrowed now, and he's looking at the ground, lost in thought.

You feel guilty for annoying him again. You feel guilty for the whole thing, getting sick, draining the energy it takes him to heal you, robbing him of the time with you that he deserves. Owns. He is very generous with the way he treats you, having all that in mind.

You tug on his sleeve. "I'm sorry, Master... You deserve better.", and you're sobbing again. Sukuna gives you a pathetic look, but smiles as he pulls you into his embrace.

"Silly pet. I can survive a couple weeks without your assistance.", he says, rubbing your shoulder.

You run your fingers against the back of his hand mindlessly, not knowing how to respond. Caressing his knuckles, bones, veins... feeling his nails and their sharp tips against your sensitive skin. When you bring his palm up to your lips, your kiss stains it red with blood.

-

You still sleep with Sukuna sometimes. Less frequently, only on days when you feel well enough, and those are rare. You've lost weight by now, sickness making itself visible on your body. You're sitting on his lap and clinging to your robes, scared that he won't like you as much, that you won't live up to his standards. But Sukuna's demeanor about your illness has changed, as he seemed to sense something unusual about it. He flips you over so gently, like you're made of glass, and peppers kisses from your neck downwards, slowly undressing you as much as you allow him. When he takes you, he's so careful. Constantly checking you're comfortable and enjoying yourself. You feel so loved and relaxed, and pleasure comes so easy when you're in this state. It's not the first time Sukuna is this caring with you in bed, but this time is different. This time you can't help but feel like he's saying goodbye.

He holds you afterwards, tracing his fingers over the ridges of your spine and your shoulders. You were always little in his grasp, but now that he feels your protruding bones under his fingertips, you seem all the more vulnerable.

"Will you kill me?", you ask, breaking the silence.

Sukuna frowns. "Nonsense. Why would I do that?"

There's a gulp in your throat. "It won't be long before I can't even do this. I won't be of any use to you then...", you say.

"Stop.", he says sternly. "There's a lot more to you than what you provide me with in bed."

You smile to yourself, but there's still a hole in your chest. Your statement is still true, and you aren't comforted. But this is Sukuna, and you know that he's offered you quite a lot even with that little bit of reassurance. To your surprise, he speaks again.

"Don't upset yourself. It's been a long time since killing you crossed my mind.", he says. "Save the energy for something else."

You nod and thank him. Just moments later, you're asleep. Quicker than ever before, he notes. You usually love it when he lets you cuddle and talk to him. You would force your eyes open when you were sleepy, just to enjoy it longer.

He feels guilty. He's your master, he's responsible for your well being. Yet nothing he does seems to help you long term. Healing you is temporary and he knows that without accessing the source, it will never work. If he could, he would find what was making you sick and rip it out of you with his bare hands, crush it with the force of his palm. He would have to look deeper, open you, and for once, he thinks he can't open a human being. He thinks of you trashing, screaming, and worst of all, looking into his eyes. Just the thought of you like that makes his chest feel like a gaping cavity. Worst of all, he's sure you would let him. He's sure you would forgive him for spilling your blood, and find comfort in his arms again. If you survived, that is. What has he done to you? And to himself?

Now, your head rests on his chest, and you're snoring lightly. For once, a repetitive noise like that doesn't annoy him. For once, he wishes he could listen to it every night. One day, that noise will be the only thing audibly confirming you're still alive.

-

Months pass and you're only getting worse. You barely leave your room now, too weak to even do so. You eat little, and it's showing in your sunken cheeks and eyes. You feel yourself withering away, loosing color, drying like a dying flower. Sukuna is in grief. He struggles to look at you, and visiting you falls heavy on him every time. He always finds himself thinking afterwards. Regretting that he let himself get this attached, wishing that he could simply forget you. But it doesn't work that way.

He goes to see you, after avoiding you for a week. He's Sukuna, he doesn't have any shame. You're sleeping, like you usually are when he comes to visit you. Your snoring is laboured, and it sounds painful. This time, the doors and the silence don't wake you up. He watches you, curled up under a stack of blankets, rising and falling with your struggles to breathe. How foolish he was, to think forgetting you would be as easy as avoiding you for days. How evil he was, trying to forget you while you are still alive under his wing, still his responsibility. Still his.

He sits next to you and leans over you, fingertips ghosting over your face. The snoring stops and you flutter your eyes open, turning in bed and feeling his body next to yours. You smirk at him, eyes adjusting to the light, and smile when you recognize him. ''Master.'', your arms wrap around his neck as you welcome him, your voice dry, but lively as you beckon him closer. ''I missed you.''.

He comes down to plant a kiss to your forehead. ''I missed you too, darling.''. Oh, the things that escape his mouth when he's alone with you. He cups your face, enjoying how much healthier you look with a smile on your face. ''Feeling any better?'', he rubs your cheek, lingering closely above your face.

You nod, but both of you know you only feel better because you saw him. Still, the little surge of happiness that brings you gives you more energy than you've had the whole week. You wiggle to the edge of the bed, making space and inviting him to join you. Sukuna lies down, hooking one arm underneath your neck and pulling you flush against him.

You wrap your arm around him and lean your head against his shoulder. He's still as big as you remember him, unfaltering in the face of your illness. It's comforting. ''You didn't visit in a while. Were you busy?'', you ask, stroking his back. ''How were your days?''

''Monotone.'', he says. ''The villagers bring remedies for you every day, and wish for you to get well.'' It's no wonder. So many times, Sukuna found himself hesitating to kill just because you were sitting on his knee, dressed in something too pretty to be splattered with blood. In the local villages, word spread that you have ''domesticated'' Sukuna. As if such a thing was possible. Or was it?

''Oh?'', you smile. ''I didn't think they would notice my absence.''. You always were supposed to be Sukuna's accessory and nothing more. Remedies and good wishes make it sound like you're more important than just a pet. So it really is that obvious...

''They did.'', he says, and lowers his head, brushing his nose against your face. ''Some took that as an opportunity to gift me new pets.''

You blink at him, a bit taken aback by his honesty. You keep smiling anyways. ''Did you take any?'', you ask, and he sees nothing but genuine curiosity in your eyes. The truth is, you've had a lot of time to think about your place in Sukuna's mansion. You knew, especially in sickness, that you were never entitled to exclusivity with him. You knew that at some point you would have to be replaced, just by the virtue of being a mortal. A human, who would age and become ugly, wrinkled and useless. You were just unlucky enough to meet this fate sooner than you should've.

Sukuna sighs, the weight of the conversation shifting to him. ''Not to bed, no.'', he says.

You're quiet while you think of what to say. You still have a habit of picking words when you're with Sukuna, but the times when he would punish you for improper formulation are far behind you. "Why not?", you settle. You hope the implication is there, that you wouldn't be so mad even if he did.

Why not? Because he thinks it might break him. Because the image of someone else in your place, under him, feels unnatural and wrong. He thinks the guilt might eat him alive. For once in centuries, someone else's needs come before Sukuna's. He is gone, so far gone. You've raised his standards, and he's not sure anyone he takes now will be able to live up to them. Besides, training a new pet to fit your mold would take years, and even then... He couldn't train someone to love him. Not like you do.

''I wouldn't want you to hold back because of me.'', you say, and he realizes he's been quiet for too long. Years ago, if you dared to imply that Sukuna would do such a thing as hold back because of you, that he cared, you would've been minced meat ready for dinner. Now, he looks down at you tenderly when you say it. Well, a tender look from Sukuna is a docile one. You've gotten used to the way that Sukuna communicates love. Subtly, innocuously.

''Worry about getting well, pet.'', he shuts down the conversation, and moves away from you, sitting back on the bed. ''Any wishes? Food? Activities?'', he asks, and feels your forehead with the back of his hand.

Food? No, but... ''I'd like you to stay, please.'', you say, and take his hand with the two of yours, feeling it up with your thumbs.

Sukuna resists the urge to roll his eyes, knowing the thought of annoying him would upset you greatly. ''That's a given. Anything else?''

You pretend to think, then just babble your favorite food. Sukuna takes your order to Uraume. But when he comes back, you're already asleep again. He waits by your side, but you don't wake, so eventually he leaves. By the evening, the plate of your favorite food remains untouched.

-

You can't leave the bed on your own anymore. Sukuna carries you outside when you're feeling good enough. You barely have the strength to latch onto him securely. Still, it's hard to slip out of the grasp of his four arms. He says you've gotten pale. You lay in his lap and bask in the sun, while he tells you about his day or reads a book out loud for you to enjoy. You wish you could talk to him more, but your voice leaves you as days of endless coughing wreck your throat. No herbs and teas ease your condition anymore. You wait for your final day.

And Sukuna doesn't know when he's given up on the idea that you might get better. But he starts spending whole days with you, leaving your side only to sleep in his bed. He tends to almost all your needs personally. You think that if you asked him to get on his knees for you, he would. He is not familiar with this ache that brews in his chest when he looks to his side and doesn't see you there. It feels violating. To be as powerful as he is, and yet completely helpless in the face of the sickness that drains you in front of his very eyes.

He plays with your thinning hair one morning, and you look at him from his lap, as adoringly as always. ''Isn't it funny?.'', you say, and he snaps out of his thoughts to look at you. ''I always imagined dying by your hand.'', you kiss his hand again, planting your dry, blue lips against his knuckles. ''Who would have thought?''.

You, you little human. You made him feel like a fool, like a coward. You made him feel powerless. Who could ever get away unscathed with making Sukuna feel like this? The thought of killing you now, even out of mercy, fills him with horror. He thinks he couldn't live carrying the burden of your death on his back. It's already hard for him as is.

When he's not with you, he withers away in his room, waiting. And when the servants finally come, and tell him you're at your last strengths, he feels as tense as he feels relieved. The servants shake in fear of his reaction, and he simply dismisses them. In a thousand years of his existence, he doesn't remember having to prepare to enter a room. His hand trembles as he brings it up to push the door open. He dreads what awaits him inside.

He expected blood, hysteria, chaos, yet there's none of it when he walks in. Just the pained noises of your breathing. A servant, your favorite, sits by your side and wipes sweat off your forehead. She talks to you in a comforting tone and pats your head gently. When he walks in the room, she lowers her head and moves to leave. It's only a second, but he sees the sad look on your face. ''Stay.'', he orders, and the servant bows and thanks him.

You move your attention to him, raising your hand to greet him weakly. He picks it up and bends down to kiss it. There's tears in your eyes as he settles into a seat next to you, and you open your mouth in an attempt to say something.

''Easy now.'', he shushes you, and helps you into his lap. You lean back, looking at him through a blur. His features appear even more doubled through the tears, and you still find his beauty mesmerizing. Your master. Your own little god and protector. Although he regrets it, you've never claimed the title of his spouse. Yet, he still stuck by your side, until parted by death. In sickness and in health.

He wipes your tears, and the mouth he conjures onto his hand kisses your forehead. One set of his hands caresses your face, the other massages the tension out of your bony shoulders. Sukuna knows how important it is for you to pass in peace. He doesn't want to curse you, or have despair turn you into a curse. "Relax now.", his voice is so soothing, as if lulling you to sleep. "It won't be long". You weep. What did an ordinary human like you do to deserve this honor? To be comforted on their death bed by a god. To be guided to death by him.

"Master.", you sob. "I'm so scared..."

Delicate touch against your skin. Sharp nails grazing your cheek ever so slightly, just barely enough to make their presence known. "Have no fear.", Sukuna looms over you like a snowdrop. "Where you go now, pain won't follow.". You speak to him a little longer. Tell him all the things you always wanted to tell him, but were scared of the consequences. Dangerous words, ones that were rarely associated with Sukuna. Love. And Sukuna is attentive, so human. Your blinking slows and you find comfort in his voice, as he returns every loving word back to you. Your pained breathing follows, and your eyelids are so heavy. But the sight of him is so hypnotizing, you wish you never had to look away. "You are so brave, my little dove. Go now, be free.". You were too good for this wretched palace anyways. The sight of him is etched in your memory as you close your eyes. "It was a pleasure to have you by my side.", you listen, feeling control over your body slip through your fingers. When you can't move, or feel his touch, you still hear his calm voice. "When you're ready, come back to me. I'll be waiting for your return.". Then everything is quiet, for you and for him. The servants cries are muffled by the sheets, where she has her head pressed by your side.

The hallways, silent except for the busy tapping of feet. Outside, the wind blows petals off of blooming flowers, leaving them bare and stranded. Autumn is here to carry you away.

Servants hold their breath when Sukuna walks by. One wrong look at him and the walls would be painted red. Just like before. Before you. And it's not long before Sukuna looks like a monster again - red eyes and a permanent frown etched on his face. Villagers bring bouquets, and lay them to the right of his throne, where you used to sit. He stares them all down, and only for a moment thinks that maybe, humans are not the scum he thought they were. But then he remembers, they only mourn you because you held him back from his destructive tendencies. Scum.

And he kills again. The first is a villager from afar, where news of your passing hasn't reached. Ripped to shreds for mentioning you. The women who screamed, their blood soaks the carpets and seeps through the wooden floor, dripping down to the cellars. He feels like himself again, unhinged, unbeatable.

Until the day is over, and he goes back to his empty room. His cold, empty bed, and the old habit of reaching for you in his sleep, only to grab nothing instead. And the crocheted figures of the two of you on his nightstand, watching him as he struggles to sleep alone. He can't bear it. So he leaves, and doesn't come back for days, weeks, months.

Smoke clouds the skies on the horizon once again, after years and years of peace and clarity. As far as the eye stretches, the world will know of Sukuna's wrath. But as thrilling as it feels to conquer again, when the village is burned and ash covers the grass on the ground, the thought of you still lingers. Your devastated eyes the first time he's killed before you. The first time he's felt guilty about his monstrous nature. When he comes back, no one's warm embrace awaits him. No one's there to brighten up his day. No amount of blood shed and villages burned replace the emptiness you left behind in his heart.

The grief settles, and sits heavy in Sukuna's chest, as he assumes position in his lonely throne again, and gazes at the row of people waiting to beg, talk, offer... bore him. Another eternity of boredom. An eternity of picking through thousands of humans, in vain hopes of finding you again. In vain hopes of recognizing you, even if it's lifetimes from now, when the last memory of your face has already faded from his mind. When generations change, and the thought of a monster like Sukuna being capable of tenderness vanishes. When the fire in his chest, ignited by love, is already a memory so distant, that recalling it feels surreal.

Maybe he will forget you by then. Maybe times will harden him again, and the idea of a pet becoming his lover will make him laugh. But for now, the thought of finding you in a crowd, taking you in his arms and never letting go, is his comfort and safe place. For now, he will wait for you. As long as it takes, like a stone, unyielding against the passing of time.

#sukuna x reader #ryomen sukuna x reader #ryomen sukuna #jjk #jjk x reader #jjk angst #jjk fluff #sukuna fluff #sukuna angst #sukuna #soft sukuna #i love bastardizing sukuna in my fics #also this is totally leading me into a part 2 w reincarnated reader #yes weve heard it a thousand times #idc it makes me happy

[call-me-strega]

Dc x Dp Prompt #10: Inter-Dimensional Bake-Off

Alfred was checking the mail the manor had received that day when he found it. In between bills, fan mail, and company missives was a regal purple envelope addressed to one Alfred Thaddeus Crane Pennyworth. Intrigued, Alfred set aside the rest of the mail and sat to open the letter.

Inside was a high quality cardstock invitation of a metallic silver color decorated with luxurious midnight green script. It declared on the front:

“You Are Cordially Invited”

Alfred raised an eyebrow and flipped open card.

Dear, Alfred Thaddeus Crane Pennyworth You have been cordially invited to participate in the first annual inter-dimensional bake-off to celebrate the coronation of the young, King Phantom, age 21, Ruler of the Infinite Realms, the Great One, Protector of Souls, Keeper of Peace, The Perfect Balance, The Infinite King, Ancient of Space and Reality. We have discerned that you are among the top 25 bakers in the 11 most stable and prominent dimensions with an open connection to the Infinite Realms. Thus, we would like to offer you the opportunity to show off and test your skills against talented competitors. Should you accept, all transport, accommodation, amenities, materials, and potentially needed medical care shall be provided by the King and his court. If you would like to bring any specific ingredients or tools you are welcome to file a request for them when you arrive and they shall be summoned to you at the start of the competition. You are allowed one plus one either as an assistant or moral support. Should you have any questions please write them down and place them on the sigil on the next page and recite the incantation bellow: “bonvolu respondi mian demandon” The event shall occur in a fortnight upon the weekend before the kings official coronation ceremony. In order to confirm your participation in the competition please burn this letter with one of your most recently made baked goods. In order to decline simply dissolve this message under running water. Please confirm your attendance or absence within a week’s time. Kind Regards, the Council of Ancients Advisors to the Good King Phantom

Well, it seemed like Alfred had earned a place in a rather prestigious event. ‘It seems a finally have a reason to make use of all those vacation days Master Bruce keeps insisting I must utilize.’ He smiled to himself, tucking the letter into his pocket. ‘I wonder if Master Jason would be amicable to accompanying me for a weekend of baking in a magical dimension?’

~ Just in case anyone has trouble reading the letter:

Dear, Alfred Thaddeus Crane Pennyworth You have been cordially invited to participate in the first annual inter-dimensional bake-off to celebrate the coronation of the young, King Phantom, age 21, Ruler of the Infinite Realms, the Great One, Protector of Souls, Keeper of Peace, The Perfect Balance, The Infinite King, Ancient of Space and Reality. We have discerned that you are among the top 25 bakers in the 11 most stable and prominent dimensions with an open connection to the Infinite Realms. Thus, we would like to offer you the opportunity to show off and test your skills against talented competitors. Should you accept, all transport, accommodation, amenities, materials, and any potentially needed medical care shall be provided by the King and his court. If you would like to bring any specific ingredients or tools you are welcome to file a request for them when you arrive and they shall be summoned to you at the start of the competition. You are allowed one plus one either as an assistant or moral support. Should you have any questions please write them down and place them on the sigil on the next page and recite the incantation bellow: “bonvolu respondi mian demandon” The event shall occur in a fortnight upon the weekend before the kings official coronation ceremony. In order to confirm your participation in the competition please burn this letter with one of your most recently made baked goods. In order to decline simply dissolve this message under running water. Please confirm your attendance or absence within a week’s time. Kind Regards, the Council of Ancients Advisors to the Good King Phantom

The Esperanto translates to “please answer my question"

Edit: now with possible contestants

#long post #dc x dp #alfred pennyworth #jason todd #danny phantom #interdimensional bake-off #to celebrate Danny’s coronation #ghost king danny #alfred is a good baker #this spawned from the idea that Alfred should have a cook off with the Lunch Lady #potential dead on main #but not 100% necessary #Strega’s dc x dp prompt

[musicfeedsmysoul12]

Our second DCXDP au has Danny hiding in Gotham with the cores of Dani, Dan and two other clones who survived. They need DNA to be able to reform but it's in a ‘it doesn't have to be now’ kind of way. Not just Danny’s DNA but another to to balance out their genes.

They'll become babies and be raised up. Dani was melting but forced Danny to promise he wouldn't find someone right away he'd take his time to fall in love first. Dan did the same and the twin clones did to.

Danny decides it's a good idea but keeps the cores safe. He ran to Gotham in the DC universe because the GIW were to close to killing him. His parents, Jazz, Sam, Grandma Ida and the Foleys all followed. Grandma Ida is running some gang down in crime alley having a blast with Sam, constantly trying to hook Sam up with Jason who Ida is in a turf war with. Tucker is happily running a tech company that will soon outstrip it's competitors., his parents helping Jazz is terrifying in Arkham as she tears our corruption.

Maddie abd Jack found out about the Leauge of Assassins and went: study time. Danny, knowing its corrupted ecto and also not wanting to deal with assassins lets then have fun. So Ra’s is dealing with liminal mad scientists who keep stealing the Pits and also have uncovered two Damian clones they kidnapped. Their kids now.

But we’re focusing on Danny who is in college and living a peaceful life which is what he wants most of all. The cores of his kids are always on him just in case and he's casually dating. It's great. He can just be Danny the guy who is super into space and plans on being a mechanic for the watch tower.

Then one day Two-Face attacks the cafe he's at (because of a sale it was having where it was two for one on some sort of new treat). Danny has to run for his life. He gets hit and the bag he has the cores in is harmed. One falls out and he freaks, diving for it. He grabs it just as Black Bat swoops in to save him. She flies him up to a roof.

They land and then she moves to grab one of the cores that fell out. Danny gets antsy but it requires skin contact so it should be okay, she's wearing gloves after all. It'll be fine!

On her part, Cass is wondering why her hand feels tingly but there isn't anything malicious in the mans face so she thinks it might just be the orb she caught being weird. She swings off, noting that she has a hole in her glove.

Danny goes home and doesn't think about it until he realizes that the core the hero touched is growing. And it's getting sick without the touch of its other parent.

Cass on the other hand feels strange. Like she's pulled somewhere. She instantly thinks of the guy and alerts the others to him. They hunt him down to find him on a rooftop. He's surprised to see them, holding an Orb that’s glowing.

“I thought it would take longer…” the man says. He shakes his head. “Umm… rip the band-aids off- I'm nottotslly human.”

The Batfam kinda pauses cause he's giving this info up for free. Cass is eyeing him closely. It's just her, Batman and Robin in front of the man. Everyone else is listening in or in the shadows.

“I ran away from my home dimension cause they were hunting me down to kill me because they believed I was non-sentient. You know sad trench- I mean, John Constantine? I think he put in the word we’re friendly,” the man babbles. The orb shines. “Okay, okay. I need to… Black Bat did your glove have a hole in it when you touched this?”

Cass hums but nods. Barbara has Constantine on the line (and no one wants to know the blckmail she has to make him answer) and he's confirming it's a friendly.

“Okay, okay… this is a Core and it's the heart, soul, brain, everything of an ecto-entity like me. And it… it’s my child. But it needed a second set of DNA. It's fine dormant, it doesn't hurt the baby. But it…” the man swallows. “Skin touch.”

Cass knows in a second what he's leading up to. She touched the orb. It needed DNA.

That's her baby in his hands.

Que the chaos.

#dcxdp #dpxdc #Cass and Danny get together #she spends a lot of time with him for the baby’s health #also it's Dan #slow burn time #Bruce is blue screening cause his daughter is having a baby #the bets did not account for Cass who is ace as fuck #Alfred even lost #Fenton parents roll in with their clone sons talking about stealing them #Bruce has a headache

[sehya]

✧˖°. ࣪𖤐 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐋𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐫 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐓𝐚𝐥𝐤𝐞𝐫

✉ ʟɪᴋᴇ ᴛʜᴇ ᴛɪᴛʟᴇ ꜱᴀʏꜱ.

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫(𝐬): 𝐋𝐮𝐜𝐢𝐟𝐞𝐫 𝐌𝐨𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫 × 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

Loneliness has accompanied Lucifer for years. Year after another, his company was filled with inanimate objects with neither the ability to speak, move or feel. While he could manipulate the actions of the objects, it doesn’t change the fact that he has no real company to speak of.

So it felt strange when there was suddenly someone sitting on the same table set up for a tea party that he normally shares with just a group of rubber ducks.

The feeling was….phenomenal.

Lucifer doesn’t even know why you’re tolerating his ramblings. He wonders if it’s out of politeness, but he dismissed the idea halfway upon witnessing the way your eyes shine with interest, the way your eyebrows moved depending on what he’s talking about and the small smile hanging firmly on your delicate face. He has your full attention and for Lucifer, he feels happy being the sole focus of your attentiveness. Heck, he’d take your hums and nods over other people’s company.

“You know…” Lucifer smiled, cheek resting on his palm as he leaned against the table with eyes never leaving yours even for a second. “I have to thank you for helping me pack. It’d be a totally boring process without you.”

Your eyes softened, placing down the tea cup slowly before you reach out and held his hand, smiling. “Anything for you.”

Lucifer grin and giggled, completely enamoured with your kindness and understanding. It took so much from him to let go of his hesitations and apprehensions, too scared to enter yet another relationship after his heart suffered from the first. Now, however, he was glad he did.

You’re like the brightest of star that burned down his walls and willingly fell in his hands, melting his heart and mending it anew. Lucifer loves the fact that you don’t mind his too much chatter, and even more when you listened with such genuine interest.

“I mostly stayed here, so the things in my room isn’t as much as the things in here. I hope you don’t mind helping me out in unpacking, too. I mean…If that’s alright with you, ahaha. I don’t want to take up too much of your time just in case you have something to do.”

That's a lie.

If he could, Lucifer would like──no, he would love to have all the time you could possibly give him.

“Oh, right, before I forgot. Remember when you mentioned about the duckies that looks like us, wellllll…” Lucifer stood up, and without letting for of your hand, he summoned a box and placed it in front of you, opening it with an excited grin. “Ta-da!~ A personally made ones by the hands of the big boss of hell. Ah-hm, what do you think?”

Lucifer watched with a touch of nervousness despite the big grin on his face as your eyes widened, staring at the pair of rubber ducks that has obvious traits to you both.

Then he saw your face erupted in red. Your eyes were staring at his gift. “You…really made it?”

It was just a random comment.

Lucifer giggled, “I made it for you.”

“You made it for me.” You whispered, feeling extremely touched. “You mean…these are for me? I can keep them both?”

Lucifer saw your eyes brightened, picking up the rubber duck that looks like him with such gentleness, as though it’s made of porcelain that could easily break. His breath hitched when you turned to him, then back to the rubber duck, then back at him, then you smiled at him.

“Lucifer…”

“Yes?” he answered hoarsely upon noticing your eyes goes lower. He somehow has an inkling what you’re going say.

“Can I kiss you?”

Lucifer grinned, he was right. Licking his lips in anticipation, he answered. “I, yeah, of course. You always can.”

With a smile, Lucifer felt your gentle hand on his face as you stood up to capture his lips in a gentle kiss before pulling away, smiling softly as you ask. “They look amazing, our little figurines. I'd like to hear their little quirks, I'm sure you did something like that back-flipping one that spits fire. Can you tell me about it?”

Lucifer was put in a daydream by your kiss, but upon hearing your words, his eyes lit up as held the hand on his cheek, squeezing it a bit. “Oh boy, how’d you know I did a little something? You’re in for a lot of talking, because trust me, these two have lotsss of amazing little quirks. Be ready to waste your time on listening to my chitter-chatter.”

The rise in the corner of your lips was enough to tell Lucifer you don’t mind and that you’ll spent however much time needed just to listen to everything he wants to say, and that, for Lucifer, is something he would forever be thankful for.

✧˖°. ࣪𖤐 𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫

✉ Hope you enjoyed ᥫ᭡

#hazbin lucifer #hazbin hotel #hazbin x reader #lucifer #lucifer morningstar × reader #lucifer morningstar #fluff #xreader #hazbin lucifer morningstar #hazbin hotel x reader #lucifer fluff

[venus-haze]

Lay All Your Love on Me (Homelander x Reader)

Summary: A communication breakdown has unintended consequences, but it’s all because Homelander loves you.

Note: Gender neutral reader and no descriptors are used. This is based on a request from @judyfromfinance and the ABBA song which is so Homelander coded. Do not interact if you’re under 18 or post thinspo/ED content.

Word count: 1.6k

Warnings: Jealousy, possessive behavior, violence (not toward the reader). We love miscommunication for plot reasons here! Do not interact if you’re under 18.

Homelander had no reason to believe you were hiding from him. Your job kept you busy, and ironically enough, working for the same company didn’t guarantee that you’d see each other nearly as much as he’d like. When his texts went unanswered and he couldn’t so much as hear you during the day, though, his mind went into overdrive presenting him with every worst case scenario it could possibly conceive of.

Cheat. Cheat. Cheat.

His gloved hands balled into fists at his side. You would never cheat on him. He knew that. He did. But sometimes, it seemed like your heart didn’t ache for him the way his did for yours. You had a life outside of him, and as much as you tried to include him in it, he resisted. Things would be easier if it were just the two of you.

Trying your phone again, he called you, frustrated when it went straight to voicemail.

“Hey babe, it’s me. I’ve been trying to reach you all day. Give me a call back as soon as you can. I love you,” he said, adding a quick. “Call me back" for emphasis.

He groaned, throwing his phone aside and folding his arms over his chest. It was fine. He didn’t care that much anyway. At least that’s what he told himself as he glanced at his discarded phone every few seconds in hopes you’d call or text back. No dice.

As a last resort, he headed to the crime analytics department. You managed a small team of analysts who consulted with the state and federal government on Vought’s behalf. The two of you had met when Vought was trying to get supes in the military, and as far as Homelander was concerned, it was love at first sight.

Never mind that it took a few weeks to win you over, frustratingly committed to your job and hesitant to date a coworker. Even though he’d hardly consider the two of you coworkers. Sure, you both worked for Vought, but that was it as far as he was concerned. In his determination to woo you, he’d made some valuable connections in your department. At least, people who he knew would have some kind of scoop on you when he needed it.

“Hey Annika,” Homelander said, startling the young crime analyst as he approached her desk. “How’re you doing, pal?

“Hi Homelander,” she said, not quite able to keep eye contact with him. “Sir. I’m good. H-How are you?”

“You haven’t seen Y/N around today, have you?”

She shook her head. “Sorry.”

“Alright,” he said tensely, a painfully fake smile spreading across his face. “Keep up the good work.”

His smile faltered as he heard your name come up in a conversation on the other side of the room. A masculine voice, younger than his, far too much mirth for his liking when he spoke about you.

“Dude, I was in Y/N’s office for like an hour yesterday. I could barely concentrate. They are so fine.”

“You’re insane,” someone else laughed.

“What? Have you seen them?”

“They’re dating Homelander, dumbass.”

“Whatever. It won’t last. He and Maeve will get back together, and yours truly will be there to pick up the pieces.”

“If you say so.”

Homelander hadn’t noticed his eyes glowing red until Annika squeaked. Letting out a breath he didn’t even know he was holding, he looked at his…acquaintance.

“See you around,” he said, his chipper tone clearly strained.

Since you weren’t answering your phone and he still had no clue where you were, Homelander had all the time in the world to wait around for your sleazy subordinate to take a bathroom break. He wondered if you were aware of the man’s interest in you. It was a possibility, but he had to assure himself that you wouldn’t do anything to encourage it. He knew you wouldn’t bother with a miscreant like that, of all people, but the point needed to be made. No one could speak so vulgarly about you and expect him not to do something about it.

Fifteen minutes or so had passed, and Homelander spotted his name badge. Josh.

“Hey Josh! You have a minute, buddy?” Homelander asked, voice booming through the hallway, causing Josh to flinch. Homelander smirked a bit.

“Homelander! Is there something you need?”

“Yeah, actually, I just have a question about the crime analytics office.”

Josh nodded. “Sure, anything.”

“Did you see any Greek letters in there?”

“Wh-What?”

“Did you see any Greek letters in there? Maybe a keg and some drunk idiots wearing togas?”

“I don’t—“

“Did you?”

“No.”

“Then why were you in there talking about my partner like you were in a fucking frat house?” Homelander asked, cornering the slimy analyst. “You know Y/N and I are dating, right? Your idiot friend told you as much.”

Josh’s mouth flopped open and closed like one of the disgusting fish The Deep crusaded for. “I—I didn’t mean—“

“So either you’re incredibly stupid, or you have a death wish. Which one is it, buddy?”

“I’m so sorry, Mr. Homelander.”

Homelander chuckled, empty and hollow, reveling in the way he could practically smell the fear radiating off of the man in front of him. “You will be.”

With the way Josh was carrying on, Homelander would’ve thought he’d actually killed the guy. All he’d done was snap his arm and throw an elbow to his nose. He’d just bought the asshole a free rhinoplasty, far more generous than he deserved after what he did. 

Homelander sneered at the blubbering crime analyst, work shirt covered in his own blood. Pathetic, really. And he had the audacity to act like he was worthy of you. Throwing one final glare Josh’s way, Homelander walked off, wiping the blood off his gloves and onto his suit. It could be dry-cleaned out.

The outburst made him feel better than he had all day, though it didn’t answer the question of where the hell you were and why you weren’t answering him. Besides, he swore he heard the familiar sound of your footfall in the lobby. 

He supposed you wouldn’t be too happy if you came back to see one of your subordinates brutalized in the hallway. Just his luck, he spotted an intern in one of the unoccupied offices.

“Hey,” Homelander said, pausing a moment to read the intern’s badge, “Sammy, there’s a mess over by the crime analytics office, can you get someone to clean it up?” 

“Sure,” Sammy responded cheerfully.

“Thanks, it’s the little things that make this place run. You’re doing great,” he complimented, giving her a friendly pat on the shoulder.

Sammy returned his smile, obviously not questioning his sincerity. Homelander knew if he framed the whole thing as a favor, she’d be more likely to follow through. It was always good to have reliable people in his back pocket for things like that, worker bees who thought they were friends or something. She walked off, strides purposeful as she set off to complete her personal mission from Homelander.

Rushing over to the elevator, he listened for you, getting out on the fifteenth floor where he saw you just as you walked out of the bathroom. 

As soon as he made eye contact, he melted, making a beeline for you.

You smiled, wrapping your arms around Homelander. “Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes.”

“Where were you?” he asked, almost painfully returning your embrace.

“I told you I was presenting for the security council at the UN all day. No phones, remember?”

He huffed, releasing you from the hug. Fuck. “I guess—maybe that rings a bell. You shouldn’t tell me something so important while I’m distracted.”

“How much did you miss me?” you teased, holding up your pointer finger and thumb to pinch the air. “This much?” You spread your fingers wider. “This much?” Wider again, except before you could ask, Homelander scooped you up in his arms.

“Why don’t I show you?”

“Please do,” you said, tilting your head up to kiss him.

He retreated into the elevator with you, his lips capturing yours in a desperate kiss laced with longing. You giggled at him. You’d only been gone for a few hours, yet he was acting as though it had been days. 

You missed him too, resolving to focus your attention on him for the rest of the night.

Until your phone rang.

“I should get this.”

“Now you’re able to pick up a call?” he grumbled, setting you down.

“One minute,” you whispered, grabbing your phone, “then I’m all yours.”

He pressed the button to his suite, having forgotten to do so in the heat of passion. “You better be.”

You picked up your phone, amused at Homelander still clinging to you, kissing your neck. “Hello?”

“Josh from crime analytics?” you asked, tensing a bit when Homelander grazed his teeth on the crook of your neck. “I haven’t heard from him since he gave me the homicide report yesterday.”

Homelander hummed against your skin, and you let out a whimper only he could hear at the way it vibrated through you. He was smug, and it took you a moment to piece together why.

“Okay, talk to you tomorrow,” you said before hanging up. “What did you do?”

“Something chivalrous to defend your honor,” he mumbled, his lips unrelenting on your shoulder as he pulled your shirt down to expose it.

“I guess I should thank you properly, then? My knight in shining armor?”

He lifted his head, grinning, “If you insist.”

#homelander x reader #homelander x you #the boys x reader #the boys amazon #the boys tv #the boys #homelander

[animeshotsh]

Im going to eat you! (No) | V's x Kid!Reader HCS |

Hcs of your time with the V's during this.

Warnings: HH violence-cursing- Kid!Reader hates Valentino - Veelvet its mentioned but for just a moment - Vox inner thoughts of you - Vox has a crush on Alastor on this - Vox its down bad for Alastor and Lucifer -

Note: Because I saw one user saying reader did not bite Valentino and tbh valid.

When you saw what they were doing (well only the strange insect sinner the TV head had decided to be a by stander and to also catch you) what he was doing to Angel you were furious.

Oh, how you desired you could transform like your dad, sis or uncle but you were weak.

Fuck you for sending me to hell with no power.

However, you can still move as crazy as a sinner can and more with the sugar in your system thanks to the ice cream from earlier.

"W-wait a minute" The tv head tries to catch you again only to be head butted by Lucifer's lamb.

Who is also weak and is going to ask his creator for an update on its powers.

However back to you, you are running now towards that insect sinner who is not paying attention to no one but the poor Angel on the floor.

And so, you end on the sinners shoulder and bite hard on his arm. Your teeth getting sharper thanks to your angry feelings. In fact when Valentino tries to remove you, you are quick to go to his other arm and bite down again.

"FUCKING BITCH"

"Im going to eat you" you say with the most dangerous voice no one ever hear from you.

Angel its suprised for a second then almost loses his heart when Valentino pushes you off towards the floor. However, you are not done and end biting his leg too.

"THIS FUCKING BITCH, I SWEAR JUST WAIT TILL YOU GROW UP IM GOING TO PUT YOU IN SO MUCH PAIN DO YOU KNOW-"

"VAL!!" Vox calls his companion getting you off from the floor, having to use so much Force to prevent you from running again. "I need this one alive and mentally sane" when Vox sees that you are not getting any weak he sends a small shock of electrecity to you making you sleep.

"The fucker bite me, look" Valentino says offended showing the marks and blood you left.

"Its Alastor's kid, of course its going to try any sinner they can"

Again, Lucifer felt a shake in the Force.

Fast moving, they get to the V's tower. Valentino wants you away from him so he decides to take his anger on the poor souls that works for him.

Vox decides to tie you up just in case.

Seeing your sleeping form almost makes him go soft. You are not as terrible when you are not biting his companion's flesh off.

Also, he kind of claps to that, Val needs a reminder every now and then.

Vox wonders if Veelvet would like you, sure she does not make kid's clothes but maybe she could make something for you?

And maybe now Alastor would finally accept being part of the company because they have you hostage.

And no, Vox its not thinking about him and Alastor raising you....

Really he is not.

Ok maybe a little.

Later once you woke up and you two bond he can tell he is fucked because even if Alastor beats him up till death (oh pls do it he wishes) he want to keep you around.

You can watch Barney all you want, and you can bite Val anytime of the day. Really, you have his permission.

He cant remember if he ever wanted to be a father when he was alive but now the need to raise you is there.

Is this a demonic Power? Making overlords want to raise you and be your relatives? Who knows.

Later once its discover that you are Lucifer's kid, and how you still try to get him to show the king of hell ducks....

Fuck stop helping him!! He does not want to see you go but he cant fight hell's king.

Oh, and when Alastor treated him finally.

He thanks you for that.

He later has to deal with Val and Veelvet because they cant do business for 2 weeks.

And so, Vox ends sleeping hugging his Alastor's pillow and also thinking on getting one of the king himself.

Would you mind 3 dads ?

#hazbin hotel x reader #alastor x reader #hazbin hotel x you #lucifer x reader #hazbin hotel lucifer x reader #vox x reader

[isuckatwritingsobenice]

Hello! May I request some romantic headcanons (if it is possible) or headcanons of Alastor from Hazbin Hotel beginning the courting phase with a tinkerer!gn!reader who can fix almost anything and entrusts the repairs of his very few electronic devices, including his microphone, to them?

Thank you for taking the time to read this and have a lovely day/night! :)

A/N: tysm for your request!! This started as courting and then developed into the actual relationship so two in one i guess!

Warnings: none! fluff all the way through + Alastor being dramatic

Navigation!! // Masterlist!!

𝐀𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐚 𝐓𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞… him wondering if you’re actually going to be useful to the hotel or if you were just here for the free room

𝐀𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐚 𝐓𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞… him keeping an eye out on you for a while, cautious but still acting normal nonetheless

𝐀𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐚 𝐓𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞… him ready to use his magic to fix the hotel right back up when one of the rooms flooded because of a client

𝐀𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐚 𝐓𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞… a surprised Alastor when he sees you, work clothes drenched and toolbox in hand when you tell Charlie it’s all fixed

𝐀𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐚 𝐓𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞… him doubting your abilities at first thinking you’re an average handy-man who can just fix small things

𝐀𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐚 𝐓𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞… so what does he do? he pretends his microphone is broken

𝐀𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐚 𝐓𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞… he takes a trip down to you’re room which doubles as the basement and boiler room. you’d insistes staying there in case anything happened you could fix it right away

𝐀𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐚 𝐓𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞… him telling you what’s wrong with his microphone while you examine it, telling you he wants it done by the time he gets back to the hotel tonight

𝐀𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐚 𝐓𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞… a short-circuited Alastor when you tell him you fixed it and tuned it as well.

“Well, Dear I didn’t need you to tune it.”

He says faking gratefulness, because the thing is, you really can’t tune it…

So that leaves him thinking, if you didn’t tune it, what else did you do??

𝐀𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐚 𝐓𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞… an embarrassed Alastor when you tell him you know he lied about it being broken and that you didn’t actually do anything to it.

𝐀𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐚 𝐓𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞… a huge sigh of relief on his end, asking how you knew it wasn’t broken. you tell him you knew the moment he walked in it was perfectly fine.

𝐀𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐚 𝐓𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞…him confessing he was just trying to see your abilities, but brushing it off saying it was pointless in the first place so you don’t press the matter further

𝐀𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐚 𝐓𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞… him stopping by to chat while he watches you fix things, keeping you company and playing music for you

𝐀𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐚 𝐓𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞… Alastor going to you to fix anything even if it isn’t an item

“Y/n dear, would you be so kind as to fix my button? I believe it popped off earlier.”

“Alastor I can’t sew.”

“Well you’ll learn today!”

𝐀𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐚 𝐓𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞… him being dramatic when you tell him youre too busy, he’ll groan and whine about it tossing himself onto your bed and acting like he’s dying

“ Alastor you’re already dead…”

𝐀𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐚 𝐓𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞… him watching you while you work if he has nothing else to do

𝐀𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐚 𝐓𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞… him bragging about you in random bars about how you can fix anything

𝐀𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐚 𝐓𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞… him complementing you on your skills tenfold when he breaks something you’ve already fixed for him multiple times

𝐀𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐚 𝐓𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞… hanging his head low as he tells you he did in fact break it after you fixed it and told him how to avoid it

𝐀𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐚 𝐓𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞… alastor asking you to take things apart and explain how to put them back together so he knows too

𝐀𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐚 𝐓𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞… him putting aside his own skills, he’s not that bad of a fixer himself, but prefers to go to you for quality time

𝐀𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐚 𝐓𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞… you picking up and fixing things after he goes overboard with his powers

𝐀𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐚 𝐓𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞… Charlie and Vaggie calling you from the hotel saying Alastor broke something arguing with Angel again

𝐀𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐚 𝐓𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐞𝐫𝐞! 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞… you two being the perfect pair, he breaks things and you fix them <33

#hazbin hotel x reader #alastor x reader #hazbin alastor #hazbin charlie #hazbin angel dust #hazbin vaggie #hazbin demon #hazbin vox #hazbin hotel rosie #alastor

[wardenparker]

New Year's Surprise

Jack Daniels x plus size female reader Co-written with @absurdthirst

Rating: E for Explicit! 18+ Word Count: 18.7k Warnings: Cursing, alcohol, internalized fatphobia, self esteem issues, pining, meddlesome friends, unwanted attention from a male coworker, light spanking, praise, fingering, vaginal sex, unprotected sex, rough sex, Jack likes being scratched up, reader is described as having fingernails long enough to scratch (no specific length given), the love is requited they're just idiots. Summary: Ginger has a plan to get you and Jack to admit you have feelings for each other. She did not anticipate just how well it would work... Notes: Happy almost New Year everyone! Enjoy a little more winter seasonal smut and fluff from us to you 🥂🍾✨

"You're sure it's not too much, Ging?" Turning in front of the full-length mirror in Ginger's apartment, you inspect the glittering black cocktail dress that your friend helped you pick out at the mall during all those after-Christmas sales she promised you that you would find something at. She was right, like she always is, but now that the dress is on you, you're wondering if you haven't made a mistake. If it's not too revealing, or too short, or too tight.

Whoever in HR came up with this insane Cowboys and Flappers theme for the company New Year's Eve party deserved to have their head examined. You're not the femme fatale agent that gets sent out to seduce men and collect their secrets. Few men out there in the world are ever really seduced by the chubby girl in any given scenario, but it did tend to make you invisible. Invisible women can slip in and out of buildings in literally any kind of uniform and get through security without ever being harassed, and that works to your advantage on almost every case. Unfortunately, it also means that for the five years you've been a Statesman agent, you've also been fairly invisible to the man you've developed feelings for.

It’s perfect.” No matter how many times Ginger Ale tells you that you are sexy just the way you are, that insecurity gets the best of you. “I’m telling you, you will have every eye in the place.”

“I doubt it.” You sigh in the mirror and smooth your hands over the sequined dress one more time. “But that’s okay. I don’t want every set of eyes…”

“I know what set of eyes you want on you.” Your taste in men is your own, and Ginger won’t fault you for it, but she wonders why Jack. “It might do the man good to know that he’s got competition.” You don’t believe her when she says that it’s more telling that Jack doesn’t hit on you, but it’s the truth.

“He doesn’t, though.” Shrugging, you turn away from the mirror and decide to just go on with the night. Wishing won’t make it real and Jack Daniels barely looks at you. Even though you’ve partnered on cases, spend time together in and out of the office, and are arguably friends in every true sense? You’ve always wanted more with him. The only person who knows is Ginger, though, and you prefer to keep it that way since Jack will never return your affection. “And that’s…it is what it is. Even if you’re the only person I dance with tonight, it’ll still be fun.”

“Wearing that dress?” Ginger snorts as she pushes her glasses up the bridge of her nose. “I’ll have the faith for both of us, how about that?” She knows that Jack won’t be able to resist you tonight, not when she’s lined up a few of the junior agents to dance with you already. It’s time that Jack settles down and finds some happiness, and what better time than the New Year?

******

While you easily could have had the party at Statesman considering the size of the grounds, Champ wouldn’t hear of it. He’s hosting the damn thing himself come hell or high water, in his favourite suit with his wife dressed to the 9’s in her flapper dress, and more caterers than you’ve ever seen in your life all making his early twentieth century coal baron’s mansion look as resplendent as the day it was built. The place is palatial, with a ballroom so big that the band he’s hired looks tiny in one corner despite being six-men strong. It’s music and liquor and appetizers passing by on trays when you and Ginger walk through the door, and you gasp at how nice it all looks.

“I know he does it every year,” you sigh to your best friend. “But the theme is always different and I swear somehow the house always looks better on new year’s.”

“Champ does know how to throw one hell of a party.” She agrees, snagging two glasses of champagne from a waiter as she walks by. Her own sleek flapper dress is a vivid purple, making her beautiful skin glow and for tonight, she’s wearing contacts. Her short hair is perfectly styled, a cap like illusion, highlighted with the crystal headband she’s picked. “To a New Year we will never forget.” She hands you one glass and adds, “or regret.”

“You’re certainly optimistic.” You flash her and grin and tap the rim of your glass against hers. “Finally going to talk to Alicia or is this just positive vibes?” It’s been two years since Ginger started crushing on the woman who supervises Statesman campus tours and visitor experience, but she hasn’t made a move yet. Being frozen in place with someone you care about is something the two of you have in common.

“Positive vibes.” She huffs, rolling her eyes and trying to change the subject. “Look! There’s Tequila!” She waves the younger agent over to where you are standing. “You made it! Didn’t think you were ever gonna get back from Brazil, or if you wanted to.” She adds with a grin.

“Those are two very different questions.” Tequila agrees with a suggestive waggle of his eyebrows. Did he have to come back? Sure. But did he want to leave the comfort and luxury of that beautiful woman’s bed? Not at all. “But I would not have missed dancing with you ladies for the world,” he adds with a wink. He’s very much in on Ginger’s plan, after all, and is looking forward to the fireworks it will bring.

You fluster slightly at his words, but Ginger knows that you don’t have your cap set on Tequila. You just don’t handle compliments well. “You’ll have to get in line.” Ginger warns him with a smirk. “As good as Rye looks tonight, every man in here is going to want a dance. After I dance with her first.”

“Well I reckon I’ll have to be second, then.” Tequila puts in a playful pout. “But only because I would never deny Miss Ginger Ale gettin to be first.” He smiles again and tips his hat, having opted to wear his best Stetson with an elegant Kingsman suit. “You don’t have to,” you insist, knowing Tequila always has more choices of dance and bedroom partners than he could ever feasibly make his way through. “I’m sure you have other people you want to dance with tonight.”

“No one important.” Tequila smirks as he drags his eyes up and down your outfit and whistles slowly. “And no one nearly as pretty.” He promises.

“Liar.” Though you roll your eyes at him, you don’t protest anymore than that. He’s your friend, after all. And if he wants to waste his time dancing with you, you’ll just enjoy it. Tequila’s a fantastic dancer, after all.

“Never lie to you, honey.” Tequila croons, taking your hand and lifting it to his lips. “Lie about what?” The voice comes from your left and all eyes swing that way.

“Jack!” Normally you know he’s coming. The smell of earthy, expensive cologne and the tap-click-shuffle of his boots on polished floors. The soft humming he gets up to when he’s pleased with himself, not quite melodic but endearing because it means he’s happy. But you sensed none of that just now, too caught up in the band playing and the fragrant flowers and the tickle of bubbly in your nose and throat. “Nothing. We were just talking about dancing…” He looks like a dream, and it makes you sick to your stomach and elated all at once. Another night of watching him fawn over every woman but you is what you’ve resigned yourself to putting up with, but it’s just rude of him to look so damn handsome in that black velvet double breasted suit and sleek black Stetson while he does it.

“Dancing, hum?” His eyes narrow slightly at the grip Tequila has on your hand and he wants to reach out and slap it away, but he just shoots everyone an easy grin. “Ready to cut a rug tonight, eh?”

"I guess so." The shyness that threatens to shoot straight through you is knocked off kilter by Ginger, who hoots in response. "She's got her dance card all filled up already, Whiskey. Should've gotten here earlier," she tells him with a smirk.

His mustache ticks, it’s the only change to his facial expression. “I’m sure Rye can squeeze me in.” His dark amber eyes slide over to you and swipe up and down your body. “Can’t you, sugar?”

"Of course." You'd throw over the whole goddamn list for him. Besides, you have no idea what Ginger could possibly mean by saying your 'card' is full. One dance with her and one with Tequila isn't a full anything. "Of course I can."

“Good. Then how about I refresh you ladies’ drinks?” Jack asks, slapping Tequila on the back a little rougher than necessary. “Come help me with that.”

"Sure." Tequila grunts, throwing you a confused expression like he can't figure out why the hell Jack needs help getting champagne when waiters with trays are everywhere, but he shoots Ginger a secret smirk before following Jack into the next room where the open bar is set up.

“Tonight will be perfect.” Ginger predicts with a smug grin as she watches the two men walk towards the open bar. .

“What the hell are you doin’, flirtin’ with Rye?” Jack’s easy grin falls away and his brows knit together as soon as his back is turned to you. “You know that girl ain’t your type.”

"I can't be nice to my friend?" Tequila asks, pretending to be positively aghast that Jack would suggest he's up to anything else. One hand ever goes to his chest with a dramatic gasp.

Jack’s eyes cut towards the other agent, a frown on his face. “It’s one goddamn thing to be nice, it’s another to flirt.”

"When did I flirt?" The younger agent counters, knowing full well that's what he was doing but not about to admit it because he wants to make Jack stew.

“You were flirtin’ the second you can outta your momma, but you gotta learn there’s certain girls you don’t do that shit with.” Jack growls, stopping in front of the bar and holding up two fingers. “Double 62 Triple Barreled.” He orders, wanting one of the rare whiskeys that Champ had broken out tonight. “And two champagnes.”

"Now, why is that, Jack?" Tequila hums, looking down at his friend. Jack isn't too much shorter than him, but just enough to annoy the older agent on occasion. "Why is Rye one of those girls?"

“Because…” that’s where his argument ends, because there’s not really a reason beyond his own feelings. “It’s…unprofessional.” He decides. “She’s an agent for Christ’s sake.”

Tequila snorts at this string of logic, accepting his drink from the pretty bartender with a wink and sliding a large bill into the tip glass on the bar top before looking back at Jack. "That's a load of horse shit and you know it, Daniels. You fucking know it."

He does know it, but he snatches his own drink up and rolls his eyes. “Whatever.” He hates that his stomach twists and he wonders if you had been flirting back. Looking over his shoulder at where you are standing, he clenches his jaw at the tassels that are swaying every time you move. “Don’t get her damn hopes up.” He takes a sip of his whiskey. “We both know you ain’t gonna fuck her.”

"Nor does she want me to." This is gonna be a hell of a lot easier than he and Ginger thought, if Jack is always so fuckin wound up over you and he only just arrived for the night. "I ain't the one she has her eye on and everybody with eyes knows it."

Jack ignores that, huffing to himself as he tries to hid the fucking jealousy that curls in his gut at whoever you do have your eye on. Lucky son of a bitch. “No fuckin’ talkin’ to you, hardheaded S.O.B.” The champagne glasses are in front of him and he downs the rest of the drink to slap the crystal glass down and snatch up the flutes. Turning around without another word and stalking across the room towards you and Ginger.

It's only one room he has to cross, but by the time he gets there, Agent Brandy has sidled up beside you and Ginger and has his fingers ever so subtly on your elbow while bends his head and puts all his focus directly on you.

Halfway across the room, Jack jerks to a halt and growls, shaking his head as he resumes the walk and forces a moderately friendly smile on his face. “Didn’t think you’d be back from Korea, Don.” He interrupts as he arrives back at your group.

"Two days ago." Brandy flashes a smile in Jack's general direction but keeps his focus on you. "Glad I made it back in time, too. Champ throws a hell of a party."

His eye twitches but Jack nods. “Yeah he does. Shoulda brought that little gal you were seein’. Brandy. Brenda right? Or was it Bambi?” He shrugs. “Maybe all of them at once, knowin’ you.”

"Now don't be unkind, Jack." Brandy's eyes cut over to the older agent and Brandy offers what could be considered a modestly dramatic pout. "Or Rye might think the worst of me and throw me over for that dance I just got promised."

Jack seethes beneath the smile on his face. “Would hate for that to happen.” He lies, handing Ginger one of the glasses and then offers the other to you.

The glass is offered with a smile and you thank Jack, savoring even the tiniest moment of contact between brushing fingers as he hands it over. It's probably bordering on pathetic, how long you've carried this torch for Jack, and it seems like Ginger is really trying to encourage you tonight to come out of your shell tonight but you just don't know. As nice as everyone is being, it doesn't feel right. The only thing that feels right is when you're around Jack. It's just a damn shame that he doesn't feel the same.

It’s almost painful how the simple, innocent touch affects him. Now visceral his reaction is. Only the training that Statesman has given him keeps him from showing anything. “Well,” he hates to tear himself away, but he can’t be around you for too long. “I better go talk to Champ about some cases he wants worked tomorrow.” He offers.

"It's a party," you remind him, smile flickering as he steps back. Obviously the small touch that you'll be savoring for the rest of the night has had the opposite effect on him. But there's no need to show that. Not when it's fully expected that he doesn't want to be around you when there are plenty of other people to talk to and women to dance with. "Don't work too hard, okay?"

“Never do,” he nods at everyone and turns around and skedaddles over to Champ like his pants are on fire.

"Come on," Ginger loops her arm through yours and lends Brandy a smirk that you don't notice — you're too busy trying not to look after Jack. "Let's go dance, honey. The night is young and we are looking far too good not to show off."

Champ eyes Jack as he stops by his side. “Figured you’d have a gal in your arms by now.” He huffs as he reaches out to shake Jack’s hand. “Losing your touch?” Jack snorts. “When have I ever lost my touch?” He asks, pointedly refusing to look back over towards you. “Just surveying my prospects.”

"And how is Agent Rye this evening?" Champ doesn't even have to look to know that that's where Jack has just come from. He blew into the room so quickly that it's the only explanation for the fire in his heels.

“Don’t you start with me.” Jack groans, shaking Champ’s hand and huffing. “Far as I know, she’s dandy.”

"Why should I not start?" Champ knows damn well why not, but he enjoys riling up his friend. "Somebody beat me to the punch?"

“Every-goddamn-body here tonight is actin’ like they’ve never seen the woman in a dress.” He snorts, complaining about it even though he has already memorized the way the damned sequined dress clings to your curves and enhances them in ways that should be criminal. “It’s damned ridiculous and borderline workplace harassment.”

Smirking, Champ pours two glasses of his preferred Statesman 1972 Select, savoring the smoked cherry notes from that particular year. He hands one cut crystal glass over to Jack with his tongue set firmly in his cheek. "You know you'd be a hell of a lot less mad if you just asked the lady to dance your damn self."

The glare Jack cuts Champ is withering and he turns his head as he takes a sip, refusing to rebuff the remark. It seems like everyone is taking the piss with him tonight as Eggsy would say. (edited)

"She's allowed to have fun, ya know." Champ goes on, humming the thought as though the glare Jack just shot him wouldn't have struck a lesser man dead in his tracks. "Damn shame she hasn't set her cap on anyone. Big family dreams, that gal has. Always has. It'll be a damn shame when she finally decides to hang up her pistols and have a family, but I won't let her get farther than the training ring. Too good of an agent to just let her retire."

“Is there a point to your ramblings?” Jack grumbles. “Or are you just spouting shit tonight?”

"Do what I want in my own house." The older man chuckles heartily and claps Jack on one shoulder. "Got a couple of jobs to start the new year with. Come see me tomorrow and we'll figure out which one's yours."

He’s being dismissed and since Champ is also giving him hell, Jack quickly nods and walks off. Trying to walk around the ostentatious ballroom without looking at you. “Hello handsome.” A perfectly manicured hand drapes itself over his shoulder and the scent of gardenias and sandalwood fills his nostrils. “Tiffany.”

Like a bloodhound on a trail, you spot it from across the ballroom without even trying to. Twirling around with Ginger, your eyes catch sight of the gorgeous, skinny, leggy blonde who has let herself drape over Jack's side and you sigh. Deflate is probably the right word, but you remind yourself it was never going to happen anyway and just hold on to Ginger as the song comes to an end.

“What’s a tall, dark, handsome drink of water like you doin’ all by your lonesome?” She purrs, making him hide the wince he had at the put on accent of hers. She’s as southern as tofu and yet she tries to make it sound like she’s grown up around here. Still, she’s a distraction and the best part about it is that there’s no emotional strings. “Looks like I should be buyin’ you a drink, darlin’.”

"I wish you would," she puts on a too-high giggle and bats eyelashes heavy with mascara and augmented with false hairs. Laying it on thick, she pushes in even closer and lets her body fit against his with nothing left to the imagination.

Jack doesn’t feel anything but he paints a cocky smirk on his face as he turns to her. “Then let me go get something for you, what do you want, darlin’?”

“Champagne, of course,” she simpers, never once considering the fact that she’s at a party for a whiskey distillery. Hell, she hadn’t even dressed for the theme.

Tiffany hangs out at the bar Statesman regularly hangs out at. A groupie because she knows everyone there makes good money. He’d bet his bottom dollar she conned Scotch into bringing her.

“Some party.” Is her attempt at conversation, putting more effort into showing off her cleavage than completing sentences. “You distillery boys sure know how to treat your gals.”

“Of course we do.” Jack’s smile is wicked, but it’s a part of the persona he adopts when he is working a target, it’s not real. “Any gal of mine deserves to be treated right.”

“Is that an invitation?” She knows who Jack is. Knows the civilian job title he’s been at Statesman Distillery. Even if she knew what it was all a front for, she likely wouldn’t care. She might just try harder if she knew the real wealth being flung around between a lot of these people.

“Now sweetheart, I’m good for a night or two.” Jack drawls. “But I’ve got a lot of leavin’ left to do.” He hums, quoting the country song.

The pout on Tiffany’s face is both dramatic and pronounced, but seeing that he’s immovable in that point — and knowing his reputation — she makes a small sound of frustrated disgust before flouncing away. Apparently annoyed at having wasted her time on a line cowboy.

The huff that Jack lets out is one of pure relief. Happy that he won’t have to deal with her again for at least half the night. She might make her way back around depending on successful she is. It’s shameful to say, but most of the agents here have dallied with her, including Jack. However, he had only taken her home to satisfy a physical need. He slowly makes his way back to the bar to order another drink, not champagne.

His line of sight is unfortunate as he saunters back toward the open bar. Looking back out to the dance floor, he can see Tequila twirling you around and the two of you laughing as the younger man holds you close and mock-sings along with the band.

Jack’s frown is deep, furrowing his brow as he cuts his eyes away in a jealous huff.

It goes round and round like that for most of the night. One dance partner after the next sweeps you across the dance floor but never the partner you want. One beautiful woman after another sidles up to Jack and bats their eyelashes but none are the woman he actually wants at his side. It’s a three-ring-circus. A whirlwind. But you never seem to get close enough to each other to see that neither of you is actually having any fun.

It’s easy to have an arm around a woman, easy to smile and flirt. His eyes continuously find you on the dance floor. Ginger had been right apparently, you had a damn dance card that was slap full. He hisses under his breath, wondering how many of those men knew you bit your thumb when you were working out a problem or that your eyes changed to a lighter shade when you were feeling slightly bashful.

There isn’t a single night of your life where you’ve gotten this much attention from this many different men — or this many different people period — and while it’s fun in a whirlwind sort of way, you do find yourself clock-watching. Wondering why your fellow agents all seem to be paying you so many compliments tonight and why you sort of feel like Cinderella at the ball without a hint of the real Prince Charming, the closer it gets to midnight the more you’re thinking of just going home. The last thing you want is to glance across the ballroom at midnight and see Jack tangled up in a midnight kiss with some petite redhead or statuesque model with perfect curls. You’ll be happier skipping out early and being in your pjs with a book at midnight than you will be witnessing that.

It’s fucking infuriating to have so many people come between him and you. Every dang time he untangles himself to break in on your dance with some partner, Ginger, Tequila or Champ waylay him. He’s never had such a hard time getting to chat with you and it’s making him slowly unravel his temper. “Ah Jack, there you are.” He sighs and paints on a smile when Champ claps his back and shoves a drink in his hand. “Forgot to mention somethin’….” His eyes slide away from you laughing as you are spun around, bitter to be stonewalled again.

“Well if it ain’t the gol’dern Belle of the Ball.” The voice you hear behind you is the one person you were hoping to avoid tonight, and as you’ve just finished dancing with one of the guys from the technology department who you didn’t even think knew your name, there’s no escaping. Agent Vodka is one of those older men who doesn’t realize that James Bond is just a character and that no one drags that persona into their everyday life. He routinely ‘flirts’ with you like he’s bestowing you a huge goddamn favor for even looking in your direction, and you were genuinely hoping to avoid him tonight.

Vodka is handsome in a classical sense, some would say a silver fox, if he had a better attitude. As it stands, there’s a confused tilt to his Stetson adorned head and he rakes his eyes up and down your body in a very calculated gaze. “You musta cleaned up for hours. Getting ready for a good night.”

“Sure. I guess so.” You nod, tone polite but dismissive. Vodka has a tendency to interpret friendly as begging for hands to be put on you, and the last thing you want to do is encourage him. “Happy new year, Vodka.”

“Seems like Whiskey and I have been the only ones not with you tonight.” He intones, smirking slightly. “Guess you was savin’ the best for last, huh? Since Jack’s hangin’ all over the ladies, I’ll step in and claim this dance.” He doesn’t ask for permission, just stepping up to you and grabbing your waist.

“That’s really okay.” Reeling backward, Vodka is strong but your self-defense training is a hell of a lot better, and you twist in his grip to make sure he can’t get a solid hold on you no matter how hard he tries. “Appreciate the offer,” you huff, trying to push him away. “But I was just heading home.”

“Oh don’t be that way.” Vodka huffs and manages to pull you close. “Believe me, dancin’ ‘s just a prelude to what we can do later.”

“Which is exactly why I don’t want to dance with you.” You push back against him again, leveraging your elbow against his side to loosen his grip with a sharp shot to his liver. This has gone too far and is hovering on ruining the night — which has been fairly fun despite its lack of your favorite cowboy and coworker.

“Jack-“ Ginger doesn’t bother apologizing as she taps his shoulder and points out to the dance floor. “Why don’t you go save Rye?” She huffs.

At this point it’s obvious that it’s a struggle. People are giving you extra space on the dance floor as they realize what’s happening but for whatever godforsaken reason, no one has stepped in yet. Probably because they’re too shocked that Vodka has finally crossed the line into being physically inappropriate instead of just saying uncomfortable things.

“Sugar, I’m sorry I’m late for our dance.” Jack slaps his hand down on Vodka’s shoulder and digs his fingers into the fleshy muscle. Getting satisfaction from the immediate change in the man’s stance. “Don’t mind if I interrupt, do ya?” His tone is friendly, but there’s a warning woven in the words. Dark eyes turn towards you as you quickly step back from the other man’s grasp.

“Wouldn’t have thought you’d keep a dame waitin’.” Vodka mumbles, all sheepishness and apology now that he realizes he’s infringed on another man’s territory.

Jack doesn’t rip into the man like he wants to, everyone else is starting to relax and resume the party. “You probably need to lay off the liquor.” He tells the other agent, not really caring for the man either.

“You forget who we work for, Daniels?” Vodka huffs, giving Jack the stink eye. “Not like you go easy, either.”

“Last time I checked, I took no for an answer, Robbins.” Jack turns his back after letting Vodka go and sweeps you into his arms, effectively dismissing him.

The room damn near erupts into applause, chattering all around you erupting out of uncomfortable silence, but you don’t hear it. You don’t even see Tonic and Champ escorting Vodka out of the ballroom with the utmost immediacy so the dressing-down can be vocal and private. All you see is Jack, and all you hear is Jack. Even as quiet as he is, the huff he gives as he scoops you up and twirls you away speaks volumes. “Jack, you—you didn’t have to—” Of course, if he hadn’t, you’re not sure you could’ve gotten away so cleanly. “Thank you.”

“Don’t think a thing of it, sugar.” Although he has a few harsh words rolling around for everyone who didn’t step in. It’s like they were waiting for something. Alcohol’s done made their brains addled. “Although my own apologies for manhandling you to get you outta that sticky situation.” Even though he’s apologizing, he starts to lead you in a dance.

“I really don’t mind.” And that is the understatement of the goddamn year, as you instinctively melt against Jack the second he starts to move.

“Still…..” There’s finally a bit of happiness to the evening and he smirks down at you. “Now you can say your dance card has been filled.”

“Could’ve left Vodka off it completely,” you grumble lightly, but you still end up smiling. When Jack looks at you in almost any way you just light up from the inside. It’s instinctual.

“Don’t know what got into him.” Jack huffs, even though he’s saved you from encounters like that before.

“His namesake, most likely.” He had smelled like it, at least. A fact which added no charm whatsoever to your encounter. “Really, Jack. Thank you. I appreciate it.”

Jack nods. “Sugar, you know that I know you are a capable agent. You coulda mopped the floor with him, but I’ll always give you whatever help you need.”

“I prefer not to bring hand-to-hand combat to Champ’s front door if I can help it.” If you let yourself really chew on the fancy, you could imagine Jack as rescuing you like a knight in armor. Like you were his to protect. “Not sure how much he’d appreciate that, regardless of how capable I am.”

“I think you’d find Champ more forgivin’ than you think.” He snorts, reminding himself of his own major fuck up just a few years prior. Champ had forgiven him and allowed him to regain the trust and confidence that he had destroyed through his own bling grief and rage.

“Maybe.” Jack certainly knows your boss better than you do even after several years with the agency, so you’ll differ from him. “But I’m glad to not have to find out. And…” The rest of the thought gets swallowed, and you cut your eyes away from him in embarrassment. There are some things better left unsaid and normally you’re so good at keeping your mouth shut.

“And?” Jack frowns slightly, not liking that you are holding back with him. “You can tell me anything, you know that.”

“It’s nothing,” you promise him, shaking your head and acting like it isn’t the biggest, most honest confession in the world from you that sets your cheeks on fire and makes you even more bashful around him. “I’m just…glad I got to dance with you. That’s all.”

“You didn’t think you were going to dance out the old year without ole Jack now, did ya?” He sounds pouty that you would even think that.

"Honestly?" Shrugging slightly even with one of his hands splayed across your back and the other holding yours tenderly against his chest, you wonder how ever you ever manage to keep a damn thing to yourself with him around when your mind just sort of seems to melt in his presence. "I was going to split and ring in the new year in my bed with the book I've been reading."

Jack frowns and shakes his head, not agreeing with your plans in the slightest. “Now that seems like a waste.” He draws. “Mighty fine night to spend readin’ a book. You should be doin’ other things.”

"Not a lot of other options to pick from," you mumble, trying to force your mind away from immediately conjuring the mental images and repeated daydreams of doing just about everything under the sun with — and to — him.

Jack wants to protest that, but the song starts to close out and you almost stop in your tracks. Obviously believing that he will end the dance now that Vodka is gone and the set is done. Instead of dropping your hands, he pulls you tighter against him. “Is that why you wore a dress like that, sugar? ‘Cause you didn’t have any options?”

"Ginger picked it out." Wrongly assuming it to be an indictment of the choice, you frown reflexively and wonder why he's still holding on to you. The trouble is over and the song is done. Shouldn't he be finding someone better to spend his time with? "I know it's...it's not right. Flapper dresses are designed for women who look the opposite of me. But she insisted on sticking to the theme."

“Opposite of you?” He makes a face of utter confusion. “What are you talkin’ ‘bout? Dress looks good, fits you.” Maybe you have a shit ton of pins in the dress? His sweet wife would always have to pin her dresses to get them to fit right. Nearly every night they went out, he was helping her pin it just so.

Skinny is what you meant, but instead of saying so you just chew your lip and shake your head. Voicing that out loud would really just cement the ruination of the night and you don't want to do that. "Never mind," you insist instead. "I'm glad you like it." Even if he's just saying it to be nice, which you're sure he is, it's still nice to hear.

There’s something bugging him about the way you continuously quit talking and get around what you mean. The next song starts to play and Jack moves to that slightly faster tempo. “No one’s breakin’ in yet, sugar. So I’m keepin’ you unless you need a break?”

"No." Not from him. You would never, ever ask for a break from him. "No, I'm good." In fact, you've been so distracted by the rescue that you haven't noticed midnight creeping ever-closer. "I don't want a break."

Jack smiles, not the cocky smirk he adopts or the charming playboy facade that he uses on women like Tiffany. This is a genuine smile, one that makes his dimple show with a flash of white teeth and the crow’s feet around his eyes appear. “Then let’s dance, sugar.”

Champ chuckles when he sidles up beside Ginger with a fresh glass of champagne for each of them and his wife on his other arm, all ready to lead the midnight countdown after this song is over. "Took all damn night," he laughs to his co-conspirator. "And ya had to pull out the big gun with Vodka. But look at 'em."

“Man huffed and puffed at being used.” Ginger rolls her eyes and curls her lip. “But I promised him the Antarctic assignment. It will seem like punishment to everyone else and apparently he’s romancing one of the scientists down there.” Personally, she doesn’t see why anyone would be romanced by Vodka, but to each their own.

"It's for a damn good cause." Champ stifles a guffaw and even his wife looks amused at the way everything went down. "Everybody deserves to be happy, don't they? Even Vodka." It earns another snort from the older man and he aims a smirk at Ginger. "So what's the plan from here, Ging?"

“If Jack will get off his ass, there should be a kiss at midnight.” Ginger grins. “And maybe, just maybe, the dumbass will realize that it’s okay to want her. She wants him too.”

"Of course she does." Everybody knows that. Everybody with eyes and sense in their head, anyway. "He's just been stuck in the whole of his own grief for far too damn long. It's about time he broke free. Which is exactly why I went along with this plan of yours."

“I’m glad you did. Jack’s felt so guilty about actually developing feelings for Rye that he’s convinced himself that it’s wrong to flirt with her.” She takes a sip of her champagne. “When he breaks, it’ll be entertaining.”

"Entertaining for all of us." Grinning, Champ holds his glass out to his partner in crime in salute. "I sure as hell hope it happens right here for all of us to see."

Unaware that he’s being plotted against, Jack continues to hold you in his arms, taking you around the dance floor and trying to keep from asking too many questions that would potentially ruin his easy relationship with you. “Have you had fun? Other than Vodka? Your feet have to be killin’ you, all the dances you’ve been movin’ to.”

“It’s alright, I’ll have a hot bath and soak them. Aside from the one little interruption, everything’s been so nice.” This is the best part, without a doubt. Attention from other people is a novelty, the compliments and laughter a kind change of pace. But any time spent with Jack will always out do any other experience.

“A nice hot soak and a drink is always good to unwind.” Jack hums. “If other activities aren’t available.” The comment is warm, almost suggestive as he twists you around and then pulls you close again, feeling your softness against him and enjoying it.

It’s the worst kind of gut punch, hearing a comment like that from Jack, and your eyes are downcast when you curl back into his arms. It’s too unkind to be deliberate, but at the same time it’s such a careless comment that you just want to scream. He would never be intentionally cruel to you but the flirtatious tone of the comment is too much. “Maybe I should’ve gone with Vodka, then.”

Jack stiffens, frowning immediately and his blood pressure rises in anger. “What the fuck?” He hisses, the moment making him grip you tighter, almost the point of hurting you. “Why- you?” He’s at a loss for words right now.

“Well it’s the only offer I’ve gotten in…a year? Maybe more?” You shrug dismissively but his grip on you doesn’t allow for it, making your tone turn even more bitter in the process. He doesn’t get to get mad about who offers when he has no interest in himself. “Definitely more than a year, now that I think about it.”

“That wasn’t a goddamn offer.” He snorts. “It was a cowboy playin’ grab ass when his partner wasn’t willing.” He reminds you, dark eyes flashing angrily. “Otherwise known as assault.”

“And yet it’s still the only time any man has looked at me twice in more than a calendar year,” you hit back, practically hissing under your breath as embarrassed tears sting at your eyes. “Nobody’s exactly lining up to spend time with the fat girl except tonight which is Ginger’s doing. I know it is.” (edited)

The two of you are hissing back and forth, so preoccupied with your emotions that neither one of you are aware of the fact that the countdown for midnight has begun. The crowd around you starts to chant down from ten but Jack's too busy growling at you in anger. "Why are you so fuckin' quick to insult every goddamn person who decided to dance with you?"

“Because I know I’m right.” The two of you have never once torn into each other like this and while it breaks you’re heart, you’re so angry that lashing out is happening by instinct. It hurts so much more to be doubted by him and you can’t even express why. It’s devastating. “Do you even know what assignments they give me, Jack?” You hiss back, not hearing the shouts around you. “The ones where they need someone to be invisible! If they need someone plain and ignorable, they come straight to me. Do you know how much that fucking hurts? Because I’m good at it and that’s even worse than them just assuming. I’m excellent at not being noticed. At not being desired. It’s my fucking superpower. So no, I don’t think for a second that any of these dances were genuine moments of interest or offers for literally anything else. Because why would they be?”

His heart breaks and he's simultaneously enraged that you view yourself that way. "Five! Four! Thr—" He reaches up and grabs the back of your neck to yank you forward so your nose is less than an inch from his own. "You want a goddamn offer?" He snarls, losing all sense of reason when it comes to you and ready to prove how wrong you are. "Here's your fuckin' offer." Without another word, he drags you forward to plaster his lips against yours in an angry kiss.

It should feel terrible. It should make you so angry you slap him. It should make you feel a hell of a lot of nasty things, but instead what you feel is the undeniable melting of your own self against him, finally getting the only thing you’ve wanted since the day this infuriating cowboy sauntered into your life. Jack is firm under your hands, burning hot and intoxicatingly inviting in the way he does not pull away. You must have gotten so mad you blacked out, because this is impossible.

When you don’t push him away, when you don’t slap him, Jack growls. Using the soft sigh that you give to deepen the kiss, sliding his tongue into your mouth with another groan as the cheers and sing of Auld Lang Syne happens all around the two of you.

Either you’ve burst a blood vessel from being so angry and ashamed or this is the best dream you’ve ever had. Jack wraps both of his arms tight around you and you cling to him, fists dig into the arm of his suit jacket and the hair on the nape of his neck as you silently beg this hallucination never to end. You can live and die in this moment and tell yourself that it was more than a dream. You can imagine this is exactly how fiercely Jack kisses when he really wants to. When he wants someone.

The kiss has turned from an angry mashing of his lips against yours to a passionate mingling of your breath and tongues. You whimper and his entire body tighten with need. Overriding the portion of his brain that is screaming that this is a bad idea, that he is bad for you and continuing to kiss you as everyone else has moved into dancing now.

Neither one of you has realized that his hat has been knocked off, or that he’s drawn you so close your back has bowed, or even that you’ve entirely given up on needing to breathe in order to never have to stop kissing him. Years of repressed desire and soul-crushingly unrequited love are just being poured into every second you spend drowning in this impossible fantasy.

“Well damn.” Champ chuckles from his position on the dance floor with his lovely wife. “Didn’t expect that long of a show. Boy don’t stop soon, he’s gonna devour her right there in the middle of the floor.”

“That’s what happens when you repress your feelings for six goddamn years,” Ginger snorts in amusement. “Should I go interrupt them?”

“No.” Champ decides with a shake of his silvery head. “Leave ‘em. Don’t want the boy to get spooked before he makes up his mind what’s gonna happen next.”

“And he will.” Ginger agrees with that completely. Jack spooks faster than a newborn foal.

“He would, where she’s concerned. Boy has his heart in it and he’s been fightin’ it.” Champ agrees as his wife chuckles. “He will figure it out.” She promises. “Rye won’t let him walk away from this with a smile and a handshake.”

“I think she’d rather die than let him go, at this rate.” The smile on Ginger’s face is soft. Glad that her friend is finally getting everything she — you — have ever wanted. It really is only oxygen that makes the two of you pull apart, panting for breath with fingers curled into each other’s flesh and clothes like you’re hanging on for dear life.

Jack’s eyes are dark and searching as he looks at you. Looking for the answer to a question and when he finds what he’s looking for, he grabs your hand and starts to drag you off the dance floor.

“Jack?” The realization that that really just happened ignites a small panic in your chest and a riot in your mind, and the fact that Jack hasn’t let go of you or run off in disgust is only confusing you more.

He doesn’t speak, he can’t speak right now. The people on the floor just seem to part, moving out of his way as he guides you off the floor. He does squeeze your hand though.

“Jack?” The longer he goes without saying anything the higher the panic rises, but you cling to his hand all the way to the front door of Champ’s house where the front room has been transformed into a coat closet.

Jack doesn’t answer and spins you around to press you up against the wall, kissing you again. “Get your fuckin’ coat.” He demands roughly.

It’s a much briefer kiss but it leaves you breathless all the same, and the determination in his eyes makes you shiver and rush to obey. If this is what you’re going to get with him — just a few demanding kisses before he decides it was a mistake and turns you away? Then you’ll take it.

His hat is missing, Jack realizes when he goes to readjust it and frowns. Patting his head and looking around to see if it fell off around here, but it’s nowhere in sight. It’s a small price to pay, but he runs his hand through his hair as you rush back to his side. “We’re leaving.”

He doesn’t seem angry, but for the life of you there is no version of tonight that goes any further. Not in your mind. A conversation about how you shouldn’t have kissed him — or at least kissed him back, since you have a dim memory of his hand pulling you to him right before your mind went blank — or at least about how it was a mistake is bound to follow.

The second your hand is in his again, Jack is dragging you through the doors and down the stairs of the house to his Bronco. He’s parked close, thank god and he can barely get the door open before he’s grabbing your waist and practically throwing you up into the seat.

It shouldn't be a thrill to be lifted up and tossed around as though you weigh next to nothing, but there is something in Jack's singular determination and focus that tells you not to question or fight it. If he wants to manhandle you a little before whatever uncomfortable confrontation is bound to happen? Well, it's not as though you haven't literally fantasized about that scenario. At least now you have a frame of reference.

He’s holding onto his control, barely. Racing around the front of the vehicle and jumping in beside you. He can’t even talk to you as he starts the engine. Thankful that his place isn’t too far away as he throws the Bronco into gear and slings gravel as he spins out.

The most surprising part might be that he reaches for your hand as he drives. His fingers curl through yours and hold onto you on top of the gear shift, not letting you do your usual thing of shifting away or curling in on yourself in uncertainty.

There’s only two miles left to go. He grunts as he slows down to make the turn and your hand moves the shifter with him, making sure that he doesn’t squeeze it too hard as he goes through the gears.

He's driving to his own house. You've done this route yourself more times than you can count for a thousand different reasons. The apartment that you rent with your ample Statesman salary is well on the other side of Louisville and Ginger lives closer to you than to Jack, so it's not like you have any doubt where he's headed. When he pulls the Bronco down his long and winding driveway toward the large farmhouse he's called home for a decade already, your hand tightens slightly in his, nervous and wondering what will come next.

When he cuts the engine, there’s a half a second before he opens the door. Almost speaking but he doesn’t. Instead, he’s climbing out to walk around the truck to open the door.

"I wish you would say something." Even if he's helping you out of the car and holding onto your hand, you can't figure out what's going on in his head. Not having any clue is making you a little panicky the longer it goes on.

Jack stops, two steps away from the path to the front door. “Do you want to come inside?” There’s a fear that you don’t want this. That you are not on the same page as he is.

He's not angry. Or upset anymore, that you can tell. But the determination in his gaze is still there for something that you can't quite put your finger on. "Yes," you decide, nodding as you step toward both him and the house. "I do." Whatever happens, you're hopeful it won't be bad.

You said yes. Your words spur him on again and he’s off like a shot, dragging you behind him. The biometric lock is a godsend. There’s no fumbling for a key at the door as he hustles you inside and slams it behind you both, pressing you against it as he attempts to devour your mouth once more.

This was not the reaction you expected. Not in any way. Not even when he had kissed you twice at Champ’s house before hauling you over to his place with the fires of hell scorching his toes. Anybody else might have read the signals, but not you. Not with the surprised squeal you let out or the soft moan that follows it — both completely outside of your control.

You’re alone now and this time, Jack doesn’t keep his hands on your waist. Both hands grab firm handfuls of your delightful round ass and squeezes as he presses into you. His painfully hard cock grinding into the soft pouches of your hips.

Because of the complete blanket of disbelief you're living under, it takes you longer than you're proud of or will ever admit to realize what is pressing against your hip. It's the first throbbing twitch from under his perfectly tailored suit that has your eyes flying open and both of your hands pressing firmly on his shoulders, breaking the kiss as you gasp in surprise.

“What- I thought-“ Jack’s frown is one of utter confusion as he drops his hands and steps back from you. Hating the feeling of rejection and suddenly wondering if he’s made a fucking fool of himself by getting twisted in knots by a woman who doesn’t actually want him. “‘m sorry.”

"Why?" The incredulous question is out of your mouth before you can stop it, and the confusion marring both of your faces makes you suck in a deep breath. "I—I just—I'm surprised," you admit, as damned foolish as that makes you sound. Fucking shocked is what you are, but you don't want to be labor the point and ruin whatever is happening.

He feels foolish and embarrassed, like he’s been caught with his hand in a candy jar. Reaching up and running his hand through his hair, he blows out a breath. “You said you wanted to come in.” He reasons. “I- what did you think would happen?”

"I—I don't know," you admit, feeling even more ridiculous than he does. Your back is still against his front door, crying out loud. "I ruled out you still being mad at me after you kissed me again but I didn't think..." Gesturing at him lamely, you blow out a breath and rub at the back of your neck. "I'm not saying I want to stop, I was just surprised." If this is the only chance you're going to get with him? You're going to take it and run with it as long as it lasts.

He frowns again, wondering how you could want him and yet be surprised when he wants to take you to bed. “So what do you want, sugar? Because I’m feeling like a penny at the bottom of a pan, rattled.”

The expression cracks the tension, at least for you, and an unexpectedly bright and beaming smile graces your lips as you reach for him boldly and find to your own delight and continued surprise that he doesn't draw away. "What I want is...a long shot." It's more than that, but you're downplaying your own fears to a rather extreme degree right now. Trying to be brave. "But...what are the odds you were thinkin' about taking me upstairs?"

“House odds.” Jack rasps out, knowing that the odds are always in the house’s favor when playing at a casino. “Pondered the idea of strippin’ you down right here and making you squeal against the door, but then tossin’ you over my shoulder and haulin’ you to my large, luxurious bed also has its merits.”

You genuinely have to shut your eyes to steady yourself, exhaling long and deep and praying you aren't actually moaning out loud like you are in your head. As it stands, both images he paints have your knees weak and your body shivering. "Eith—um—either one," you manage to stammer out, eyelashes parting so hesitantly that they flutter like wings. "Either one is good."

“Sexy as you look, sugar….” Now that he knows that you are on the same page as him, a little bit of the cocky swagger is back. “Thinkin’ it’d be a goddamn shame not to spread you out.” Despite your stature, Jack tucks his shoulder and scoops you up over his shoulder like you weigh nothing, bolting for the stairs.

"Holy hell, Jack!" A nervous shout and a squeak escape you when he picks you up, and you cling to his jacket as he carries you through the house you've visited innumerable times before.

Chuckling, Jack slaps your ass with his free hand as he ambles up the stairs easily. “Don’t be nervous, sugar, I won’t drop you.”

This time you definitely do moan out loud, too taken by surprise to stop the sound or swallow it before it can come out of your mouth and you know Jack heard.

He grins to himself, slapping your ass again and is rewarded with another moan. “Mmmmhm.” He chuckles. “Rye likes a little bit of light spanking. Noted.”

"Pretty sure I'll like anything you do," you admit ruefully, though you're quickly feeling the constraints of embarrassment fall away as he reaches his bedroom door. This is real. This is really happening.

"I'll keep that in mind when I hogtie you to the bed and lick whipped cream off your body." He teases, kicking open the slightly ajar door and striding into the room to toss you down on the bed like a character in a romance novel. Right now, he doesn't know if he's supposed to be the hero or the villain, feeling a bit like both as his rough handling of you as him immediately reaching for your ankles to pull off your shoes in his eagerness to see you naked in his bed.

“See?” You huff at him, heavy breathing coming from nothing but an undeniable surplus of desire. “That actually sounds sexy coming from you.” Everything does, but his quick fingers are divesting you of your shoes and that reminds you how your Spanx is part of this undressing process — which is the single least sexy thing in the world.

Jack rips off his tuxedo jacket and tosses it down on the floor. Climbing up onto the bed and over you to press against you fully, pinning you down to the bed with a groan. Quickly capturing your lips again in a frenzied kiss.

It makes no damn sense to you, but you’re not going to question it anymore. If Jack could have literally anyone in the world but for tonight he chooses you, then you’re just going to make sure he doesn’t regret it. That decision on your part sort of pulls you out of your nervous shock, and all at once your hands are pulling open his tie and fumbling with the buttons on his shirt with enthusiasm.

“There we go.” Jack groans when you stop acting shocked and start acting. Your hands on his body makes him shake and he can’t help but rock his hips forward. “Sugar.”

He could probably call you whatever he wanted and you would just go with it, but hearing him call you Sugar — that sickly sweet name he favors so much yet seems to bestow on you so rarely? It feels like you might melt so deeply into his plush mattress that you will never get up again.

Moving from your lips takes sheer willpower but he wants to explore more of you. One hand bracing on the bed and the other sliding up to squeeze your breast as he kisses down your chin and to the soft, vulnerable skin of your throat. “Driving me crazy, baby girl.” He coos, voice rough and lusty. “So goddamn pretty.”

No one who has ever met Jack would be surprised to learn how mouthy the cowboy is in bed. He’s mouthy in every other aspect of his life so frankly it would be pretty strange if this was the exception. Still, to hear those words said to you is beyond your wildest dreams. It’s surreal in the most sensational of ways. Even when you had dreamed of being with Jack, you had never dreamed of him praising you.

He groans when your fingernails bite into the skin on his chest as you hastily push the shirt opened. “Tigress, huh?” He growls, squeezing your tit again, a little harder this time and his hard cock pulses against your inner thigh. “Don’t worry, sugar. I’m just as goddamn eager as you. But ‘ole Jack likes a bit of wildness.” He bites down on your shoulder as he chuckles. “We’ll have ourselves one hell of a rodeo tonight.”

If you even knew where half this boldness came from, you might be a little embarrassed. But given the fact that you never thought this would happen, it mostly just feels like you're telling yourself not to waste the chance. Lightning never strikes the same place twice and this is your lightning strike, so you're going to lean into the whole thing if that's what he really wants. Your nails strike a path down his chest but get caught in his undershirt, a fact which makes you huff in frustration and search blindly for the hem to tear off that layer of clothing as well.

Jack groans and finally decides to give you what you want. Pulling back long enough to finish pulling his arms out of the shirt sleeves, he tears the undershirt off and throws it off the side of the bed to reveal his chest. Unable to resist pulling your dress down to pop your breast out and diving back down to wrap his mouth around a nipple.

"Oh fuck." It's a move you weren't expecting, but your back arches off the mattress instinctively to push your chest up and invite him to take and take and take — just as much as he wants to. If you were coherent enough to suggest it you would try to start wiggling out of your dress but as it is the only thing you can focus on is the heat of him surrounding you and the way every place he kisses you seems to catch on fire immediately at the press of his lips.

He suckles, bites and then licks the hard nub in his mouth like he’s gorging himself on you. Because he is. Hands searching for the zipper to your gorgeous dress. It’s beautiful, but it needs to be beautiful on his floor.

"If you want it off, you have to let me sit up," you manage to huff out, barely able to do more than pant at the way he's clearly trying to devour your tits first.

Groaning in protest, his lips are twisting in a pout as he pulls away. Panting breathlessly as he itches to launch himself at you again. “Hurry up, sugar.”

Your hands are shaking when you reach for the zipper, pulling it down and carefully undoing the clasp at the top before letting the heavily sequined cocktail dress slip off of your arms so you can maneuver it over your head. Half-naked in Jack's bed with panties so soaked you could probably wring them out is not how you expected to end this night, but here you are.

“Fuck.” Jack frowns at the tight shapewear he’s met with. “My present’s a little too wrapped for my liking, baby girl.” He hisses, curling his fingers under the layer to start stripping it off of you. “Want you naked.”

"It was the only way that dress was gonna look halfway decent," you mumble, shifting under him and definitely avoiding looking him in the face while he peels the Spanx off of you. It's a little bit too intimate even for the man you've wanted to be intimate with for years — to the point of making you feel completely naked even when you still have your bra and panties on.

He scoffs, nearly ready to whip his knife out and start slicing the material. “Bullshit.” He huffs, happy there’s just the bra and he uses two fingers to flick the four hooks open. “You don’t need nothin’.” Instead of explaining, he’s diving back into your tits while one hand dips into your panties.

“Fuck, Jack!” Instead of a tight reaction of shock, this time he’s rewarded with a moan and your legs falling open for him as the fingers of one hand dig through his thick hair to scratch along the base of his scalp. If he wants you to be bold, you’ll be bold. You’ll be whatever Jack wants as long as you just get to be in his bed for one night.

Jack moans against your tits, incredibly turned on by the pure moxy he’s always loved in you. Despite your utterly untrue view on yourself, you are sassy, sweet and sexy. That’s why he’s unable to resist now that he’s tasted you. Once he’s teased one breast enough, he switches to the other. “Gonna eat you up, sugar. Devour you whole.”

"All yours." It's sort of unintentional, the vow-like nature of the thing, but you're just being honest. You've really been Jack's since the day you met him. Even if it's taken so many damn years to get the two of you into this situation together, it's still the truth. "Whatever you want, handsome."

He groans, fingers sliding through the sweet slick that is covering your folds. “Want you.” He mumbles as he starts to slide his finger deeper, pressing against your entrance.

It's not even in your mind to ask why when he's splitting you open on two thick fingers like that, and you swear if that's how this night is starting you might actually ascend directly to some higher plain if you get to actual sex. "Ha—fuck— you have me."

“Mmmmmm.” He licks your nipple “Not yet.” He pouts, pulling his fingers back out of you to plunge them in again. “But I will, sugar. Cum for me and then I’ll have you like I’ve been dreamin’.”

The curse you groan out is nearly incoherent, more of an agreement than anything else but you'll be damned if you let this moment be anything less than memorable for both of you. Jack hovers over you and you wind your arms around him to encourage him to continue sucking on your tits while his fingers piston in and out of your pussy with determination. You know it won't take too much longer before your legs start to shake, and as if Jack knows it just as intuitively, he curls his fingers inside you and you gasp out a moan of his name.

His teeth nip at your sensitive flesh as he hisses. Feeling how tight your pussy squeezes his fingers and imagines his cock inside you. Tight and fucking scorching hot, just like he had imagined with his hand wrapped around his cock in the shower. “That’s it, pretty girl.” He coos before he sucks on your nipple again. Moaning when you arch up, writhing under him and making the prettiest, most desperate sounds he’s heard in a long time.

No one who has ever been in this bed has ever left it with any remaining doubts about Jack’s skills as a lover, and while you knew that before? Now you understand it oh-so-very deeply. His fingers pump into you mercilessly, curling at just the right angle to make you cry out in pleasure in every pass, and yet somehow he’s managed to keep the angle of that curl perfect while still holding them apart — stretching your eager pussy open and making sure you’re ready to take every inch of him. All of those intricacies combine with the dedication attention he is lavishing on your tits, and when the tense coil of restraint in your belly snaps it explodes into a thousand white-hot stars behind your eyes as you cum for him.

You’re gorgeous when you fall apart, just like he knew you would be. Keeping his fingers moving, he watches, enthralled with you as you cry out his name in a pitch that has his cock throbbing. The hot gush of your pleasure makes his fingers squelch inside you and he groans out your name while he starts to slow down the rhythm of his hand, letting you float down from your orgasm, drawing it out for you.

“Holy hell…” When your eyes open again you’re completely boneless beneath him, giggling softly at the light-as-air feeling in your body that never ever feels lighter than anything.

Dragging his wet fingers out of your cunt is his own personal kind of hell, but the urge to taste you is too great. Watching you with dark eyes as he slips his two fingers into his mouth with a lusty groan.

“Take your pants off.” The way you groan it is nearly an order but you definitely meant it to be begging, though at this point you don’t care. Especially when he arches an eyebrow at you and smirks. “Take your fucking pants off, Jack.”

Chuckling, he shuffles off the bed to oblige you. “Never let it be said I don’t follow orders, sugar.” He winks as he kicks off the tuxedo pants and hooks his fingers into his boxer briefs. “These too?”

“The fact that you even wear underwear is a shock,” you tease, motioning for him to continue stripping and trying — but probably not succeeding — to not stare.

He smirks. “Had to contain the beast for once.” He winks as he drags the tight material down. “Don’t wear ‘em normally.”

The Beast is probably as good a name as any, and you have to swallow a groan when he frees his throbbing cock — already damp with precum. It’s a wonder he can contain it, and you’re caught in between wanting to bend forward and taste him or just lying back for him to have his way with you. Curiosity and a curtain of lust win out on the short struggle, and you lean forward to take the purple head of his cock in your mouth just after he climbs back onto the bed.

“Fuck!” Jack moans out loudly and pushes your head away gently after a moment. “Baby, baby…” he pants. “You keep that up and this rodeo will be over before it starts.”

“Sorry…” Embarrassment burns your cheeks, and you shift back to get under his blankets. “I just had to know…”

“Nothing to be sorry for.” Jack huffs. Kneeling on the bed and pulling the covers away as you hide your body away from his eyes. “Just don’t want to embarrass myself by blowing my load because of your pretty mouth before I can hear you scream my name.”

“I already have,” you remind him, a softness in your tone belied by the heat in both of your eyes. “Guess I might have to be a little louder this time.”

“Only if it’s right in my ear.” Jack wraps his hand around his cock and strokes it as he reaches for your thigh. “Buried deep inside that little cunt and feeling like I’ve died and gone to heaven.”

It goes without saying that you’re both clean. All Statesman agents are required to have clean bills of health in order to be on the roster for missions and you’re both active agents. “I—have an IUD.” Is what you tell him instead, shivering a little at the reality of what is about to happen.

Eyes lighting up in delight, Jack’s lips curl up. “Oh sugar, it’s not my birthday yet, why are you showerin’ me with presents?” He coos, sliding his hand up and down your ample thigh. “Pretty as a damn picture.”

The real answer is that you’re desperate to feel him, but you just smirk instead, not wanting to get your heart more involved than it already is. “Because I don’t have a condom and I’ll be damned if we stop now because of it.”

“If you want me to get one…” Jack motions back to his pants. “I have one in my wallet.”

“I don’t want the barrier,” you admit, biting your lip at the extremely vulnerable nature of that confession. “If it’s okay with you.”

His smirk turns into a wicked grin. “You read my mind, sugar. I want to feel all of you.”

You could make a joke about how much of you there is to feel, but just this once you stifle the urge. Opting instead to reach out and gently cup Jack's cheeks in both of your hands before pressing a soft, earnest kiss to his lips. "Then what are you waiting for, Cowboy?”

As you lean back, Jack follows you. Climbing up your body and groaning as he settles between your thighs. “You want to cum again, pretty girl?”

"Not without you this time." The reality of Jack is better than anything you thought so far. Since this miracle is surely once in a lifetime, you want it to be as amazing as possible.

Jack groans your name, pressing his lips to yours in another hot, wet kiss. Passionate and consuming as he pushes an arm underneath you. “I’m right here with you.”

As impossible as it seems, he really is. He is right there with you, taking you in his arms and making you feel delicate and desirable for the first real time in your entire adult life.

He doesn’t rush, although he wants to. Every kiss is slow and thorough. Reaching down between you to take hold of himself to notch at your entrance. “Hold on, sugar. See if we can ride for longer than eight seconds.”

“I’m not gonna buck you, Jack.” You can promise him that, because you know damn well you’re going to hold onto this moment for dear life and not question the gift that it is. This one little shining moment is just for the two of you and you’re never going to forget a single second of it.

His eyes are watching, burning into yours as he starts to slowly rock his hips forward. Breaking you open with the first inch of his cock and swooping in to kiss you again when you gasp.

The world slows down, motions stretching into time and blending together in ways that you can’t quite wrap your head around so all you know in this moment is Jack. Every time he thrusts forward again your moans get that much deeper, until on the final experimental rock of his hips, he is seated fully inside you and you feel so spellbound and grateful for the moment that you’re all but sure you could cry. Instead you pour yourself into kissing him, rocking your own hips slightly to take him more comfortably and adjust to the weighty feeling of having him inside you.

“Fuck, baby girl.” Jack inhales sharply, stealing your breath as he tries to rein himself in, throbbing violently inside you. If it weren’t for the fact that he had promised you a rodeo, he would be cumming, overwhelmed by how hot and tight you are. You’re perfect, just like he always imagined. “You be a good girl and take my cock, m’kay?”

Good girl is another one of those sticking points for you just like getting your ass slapped, and if Jack had no idea before, he certainly does now, from the way your cunt just spasmed around his length and you moaned like you were coming all over again.

“Ohhhhhh.” Jack’s eyes nearly cross and he gives a particularly sharp thrust when you clamp down around him. “You like that.” He pants out. “You’re my good girl?”

“S’not fair,” you huff, throwing him a playful pout that gets cut by another shaky moan. “You’re finding all the buttons I like pushed way too easily.”

“You haven’t - fuck - figured out my buttons yet, sugar?” Jack ducks his head down and slides the arm not underneath you down your hip and thigh to pull it up higher. Sinking deeper into you with a moan of your name.

“Liking to have your cock sucked doesn’t—fuck!— count,” you tell him, back arching as he hits a new angle inside you.

He chuckles and licks at your pulse before he nips at your skin with his teeth. Fingers digging into your pillowy flesh and groans when you clench around him again.

Finding a rhythm is as easy as breathing. Being with him is so much more natural and intuitive than you dreamt it would be. Your natural tendency to be a little rougher is equaled by his enthusiasm for making the bedroom a loud and raucous experience. There’s no hiding from each other or demurring, not once you get going. It’s like something inside you has finally been unlocked after a lifetime of waiting — waiting for Jack to come along with the key that would open you up.

If it surprises Jack that you are wild in bed, it’s probably the best goddamn surprise he’s ever gotten. His back burns from the raking of your nails when he hits deep. He fucking loves it. Your wildness makes him go absolutely feral over you.

It’s the opposite of who you are in everyday life. A version of you just for him. A version of you that leaves your worries outside the circle of your bodies and embraces sex as something carefree. Which, if you’re honest, isn’t really how you’ve felt about sex with anyone besides Jack. (edited)

His lips and teeth map every inch that he can reach as he pumps in and out of you frantically. Trying to keep the pace hard and fast because every time your cunt clenches, his hips stutter from how fucking tight you are. “Fuck, my good girl.” He growls. “So fucking tight.”

“So fucking big,” you give back, starting to pant heavier and more unevenly. There’s a whine forming in the back of your throat that you can’t hold back and you bite down on the juncture of Jack’s shoulder as your legs threaten to shake all over again. You’re so close to cumming but you don’t want this to end.

Jack changes the tempo, slowing down and grinding his pelvis against your clit. “You gonna cum for me, baby girl?” He rasps out. “Cum on Jack’s big ‘ole cock and soak me?”

"So—oh, fuck—close, baby." The way you feel right now, you might actually fall apart at the seams when you cum again, but it will be worth it. It will be worth just knowing first hand how gorgeous Jack looks when he follows you over the edge. "Don't stop. Don't fucking stop, Jack."

“Never.” Jack growls, smashing his teeth together and hissing at the way you claw and writhe under him. It’s like taming a feral cat in a pillowcase and he loves it. Your thighs are crushing his hips and all he can do is imagine them around his head. “Cum for me.”

A half dozen thrusts later, your cunt is clenching down on his cock and pulsing with a fierce orgasm that has your thighs tensing at his waist and your back bowing off the bed. Everything seems to be happening at the top of however it possibly could, and that includes the way you cry his name into the night before collapsing back into his sheets with your arms and legs still around him, willing him to follow you to bliss.

Jack moans your name, pants it again against your lips. His brow knitted in concentration as he tries to last. His body tightening and tensing as his pleasure builds to that almost painful precipice. His heart pounding, but not because of the physical exertion, but because of the almost loving look on your eyes. “Love you.” He moans, right as his lips crash against yours and he breathes it into your mouth again. “Love you.”

You freeze under him, but Jack is too caught in his bliss to tell. Like a bucket of water has been splashed over the bubble of this night and popped that shell keeping you separate from the world. Did he just...? There's no way. There's just absolutely no way at all. You must have imagined it. Wished for it so desperately that you hallucinated the words. Because otherwise you're not quite sure what you'll do — because Jack has never lied to you. But he's also never given you any reason to think your feelings might be requited.

Caught up in his orgasm, Jack rides wave after wave of complete bliss as he empties himself into you, metaphorically and physically. Giving you every bit of himself as he finally acknowledges the truth of why he has always kept you at arms length. His love for you terrifying him, but right now, he’s flying. Collapsing into your arms and panting out your name as he catches his breath.

There's nothing you can do with this shock except bury it, holding him and gently stroking his hair while he catches his breath with his head on your chest. You imagined it, you remind yourself silently, blinking back tears at how much you wish it was true.

The whiskey, the emotions and the exertion have Jack cuddly and sleepy as he comes down from his orgasm. “Fuck, baby girl.” He hums, kissing your neck as he slowly pulls out of you and shifts to your side to roll you over with him. “Wore me out.” He chuckles. “But gave a hell of a ride.”

He tucks you into his arms to be his little spoon, not letting you get away for even a second. Any other time? This would have been thrilling. "Get some sleep, baby." Returning the pet name seems innocent enough, and you reach back to run your fingers through his hair gently. "You earned it."

His eyes are closed when he shoots you a sleepy grin. “Talk when we wake up, sugar.” He promises, fingers stroking your skin softly.

That promise might be why you sleep so fitfully in the night to follow. Why you're so wound up that when your Statesman issued phone chirps from your purse on his floor around 6:30 in the morning, your eyes open immediately. Jack has turned over in the night, sleeping on his back now with one arm still around you but not so tightly that you can't extract yourself to answer the message. That phone is used only for missions and confidential communication, meaning you absolutely cannot ignore it. Incoming Message: Agent Rye report immediately for mission briefing. CODE BLACK. Code Black. You curse under your breath, careful not to wake Jack, and rub one hand down your face in dismay. That level of secrecy in a mission assignment means you can't even wake him up to say goodbye. You're supposed to speak to no one, just proceed immediately to the nearest Statesman branch for your mission briefing. With a sigh and another, more colorful curse, you shake your head and glance back at the bed where Jack is sleeping soundly. There's nothing to do but get dressed and Walk of Shame your ass into the office. You just wish you could wake him up to say goodbye.

It’s been years since Jack has slept so well. Deep and dreamless, none of the nightmares that often plague his rest. The soft scent of you surrounding him and soothing him like nothing he’s had in a long time. When his eyes open, he’s feeling like he’s had the best sleep of his life. Frowning when he doesn’t feel you next to him. Calling out your name softly in case you were in the bathroom. “Rye? Sugar?”

There's no trace of you anywhere. He may as well have come home alone last night, except for the scent of you in the air and the scratches on his back. It's almost an insult when he sees a fallen sequin on the rug where your dress had been tossed.

“Fuck.” Jack’s slipped out of plenty of beds, ducked out and kept walking. The walk of shame was never shameful when there was a little bit of pep to his step, but right now, he’s pissed. Pissed you didn’t have the fucking balls to wake him before you slipped off like a thief in the night. Snatching up his pants, he digs into the pocket for his phone, dialing your number and ready to have it out with you.

"Hi! Sorry I can't come to the phone right now. Please leave a message and I'll call you back as soon as I'm able!" Your voicemail message is insultingly chipper when it picks up right away, almost taunting him. Like you aren't willing to talk, when nothing could be farther from the truth.

“Fuck!” Jack shouts, throwing the phone and scowling angrily. Pissed that you aren’t here, that you apparently don’t want to talk to him. “Fine, you regret it? Fuck you too.” He growls and stomps into the bathroom to shower. If you wanted nothing to do with him after he had let down his walls last night, he wants nothing to do with you either.

******

"What's got you all chewed up and spat out today?" Tequila raises an eyebrow at Jack when he comes huffing into the office, a little late and a lot pissed off. He had expected Jack to be in a stellar mood.

“Not a goddamn thing.” Even though his feathers are ruffled, Jack practically refuses to even think about you. To the point where he had thrown the sheets and the costly Tom Ford tuxedo away. “Whadda we got?” Desperate to concentrate on a mission, he jumps straight into business.

"Wingman prep." Tequila tells him, tapping the folder on his own desktop. "Somebody got tapped this morning and Champ wants us to comb some old mission files to prep for an extraction. Plan B sorta shit." And since all of the mission-ready agents on the Statesman payroll are top notch with years of experience under their belts, anyone potentially needing an extraction from a mission is a big fucking deal.

“Who got tapped?” Jack asks, grabbing a file and flipping it open with a frown on his face. “Scotch?”

"I thought you'd know already." Tequila's eyes snap back up to Jack in concern. "It was Rye."

Jack freezes and slowly lifts his eyes from the file to find Tequila frowning at him, confused by how he doesn’t know. “Why would I know that?” Jack asks after a moment. It explains why your phone was off, but you had still slipped out without saying a fucking word.

"Because...you went home with her last night?" Everybody knows that you and Jack left the party. Absolutely everyone. There was a whole extra celebration after you left. "Figured you woulda known by her getting up this morning and all."

There’s a split second where Jack wants to snap that you had left him to wake up alone, but he doesn’t. What comes out of his mouth instead, is to deny the whole thing. “Took her home.” Jack shrugs, lying easily as if he couldn’t care less. “She wanted to soak in a bath and read some book.”

The frown on Tequila's face deepens measurably, pure confusion marring his usually chipper face. "Bullshit," he huffs, leaning back in his desk chair. "I saw you kiss her. No way."

“Believe what you want.” Jack snaps flatly. “Where are we in planning the back up plans?” The hurt is soothed slightly by you being called away, but it doesn’t make it nonexistent. You hadn’t even left a goddamn message for him. He could have seen not waking him if you had left some sign that you didn’t regret the night even happened.

"Early stages." Knowing better than to poke the dragon when he's mad about something, Tequila defers to work like Jack clearly wants. "Tell me what you think, but I think me on the ground and you in the Silver Pony is the best bet." Whatever happened between you and Jack, the man is clearly hurt, and Tequila makes a note to go and talk to Ginger when he gets his next chance. If you had said anything to anyone, it would be to her.

“Whatever.” Jack practically rolls his eyes and shrugs. Usually he loves the opportunity to fly and show off in the Silver Pony, but he’s so worked up over you that he doesn’t even bat an eyelash. “Guess that’s the plan. If needed.”

“If needed.” All Tequila does is nod, but damn he really needs to talk to Ginger.

******

Jack holes up in his office, barely answering the phone and not leaving it all day, not even for lunch. Catching up on paperwork that is normally never done as he works through not being at home. Not remembering how you tasted and sounded last night. He’s even refused to pull up your camera footage, not wanting to see what you are doing. He’s miserable and is determined to stay that way.

“Thought I’d find you in here.” Champ’s gruff voice cuts through the silence long after everyone else has gone home for the night. He knew exactly where Jack would be. Especially after Tequila said the senior agent was out of sorts. “Come up to my office, Jack. We’re gonna have a drink.” It’s not a suggestion or a request. This is a direct order from this commander, and Champ turns around and heads back down the hall knowing Jack will follow.

Jack sighs and sets his pen down, ripping the reading glasses off his face and tossing them down on the folder. He had stayed cooped up in his office so he didn’t take his bad mood out on anyone so he doesn’t see why he needs to be called out onto the carpet. Still, he pushes back from his desk and follows the older man to the conference room Champ preferred over his official office. The bar cart in here was better stocked.

“Pick your poison.” Champ tells him, motioning for Jack to sit down at the conference table as he strolls over to the cart to grab a bottle and two glasses.

“Whatever your havin’.” Jack wonders what this is about, but he doesn’t ask. Just waits patiently for his boss to get to the reason in his own sweet time.

Champ grunts slightly, grabbing a bottle of ‘74 Reserve, and brings it to the table. He pours two fingers in each glass and slides one over to set in front of Jack before sitting down beside him and taking a sip from his own glass. “You’ve been hidin’ today,” he assesses after a moment of silence. “But I hear you damn near took Tequila’s head off this morning when you got in.”

“Can’t have a bad day?” Jack asks, picking up the whiskey and staring at it before taking a sip. “Woke up wrong, that’s all. I’ll apologize to the crybaby later.”

“He’s not a damn crybaby,” Champ huffs, covering his own amusement with a scowl. “I walked by your damn office, fool. And when he did come talk to me about it, it was because he was worried about you.”

“Jesus Christ.” Jack scowls and shakes his head. “I had a bad morning. I’m fine. Not gonna go off and try to kill all the drug users again.”

“Not saying you would.” Holding up his hands in a show of innocence, Champ leans back all the way and stares down his nose at Jack for a second longer before he shakes his head and shrugs. “But between you and me just these walls? Just thought you might wanna know that Rye got sent off Code Black, is all.” He isn’t supposed to say. Black is black. It’s too priority and top security. But you’d been so torn up this morning and Jack’s been so out of sorts in his own way that Champ has rightfully assumed that something fairly big must’ve happened after you left the party.

His jaw nearly drops. Champ never gives information away like that. He frowns, looking back down at his glass again and feeling relieved. If you had gotten a Code Black, you couldn’t wake him up. It would have been against protocol. He swallows and finally nods. “Good to know.”

“Just don’t want you stewing over it.” The older man says, watching carefully as he sips from his glass again. “You wanna be upset with anyone, it’s me. Not her.”

“Right.” Jack drains the rest of the whiskey and the crystal hits the table slightly harder than normal. “Anything else?”

“Nah. That’s it.” There’s nothing more that Champ can really say, and now Jack needs to process. That’s just how these things work. “See ya in the morning, Daniels.”

Jack stands. “‘Night, Champ.” He walks out of the room and back down the hall towards his office, looking down at his feet as he goes.

******

It’s two weeks before Tequila and Jack are given a stand-down order and told their rescue mission won’t be necessary. Mission success, they’re told with authority, even though it took longer than expected. They don’t get more than that, though, and Jack is walking past Ginger’s lab on his way out of the office late that night when he hears your voice again for the first time in weeks. It’s tired, and quiet, but unmistakable. “Can we just get this over with, Ging?” You ask your friend quietly, knowing that decontamination and a full physical are extremely necessary considering where you’ve been and what you’ve been doing. But you want to get the hell out of here and finally go talk to Jack.

He would never admit it, but he’s been living at Statesman. Barely going home to change and often refreshing the outfits that he keeps in his office for unexpected late nights. On call the entire time in case you needed him. Now you are here and Jack feels like running away. So much self doubt had built up over two weeks, he’s driven himself crazy over every little thing. Obsessing over the details of New Years.

“Once you have a clean bill of health, you go storm the ranch or whatever it is you’re going to do.” Ginger teases, full of warmth. “But I would try his office first.”

Jack frowns slightly and wonders what the hell Ginger is talking about, storming the ranch. He almost pushes the door open, but he doesn’t. Just wants to see what you will say if you know that he’s not listening.

“It’s been two weeks, Ging.” The pops and hums and beeps of her equipment punctuate your voice from inside the lab. “Every single second I haven’t been thinking about this mission I’ve been reliving that night. And I could kill Champ for sending me away Code fucking Black before I could even tell Jack how I feel about him.”

“I know it was bad timing.” He hears Ginger sigh. “But hopefully it gave you some time to think about what you’re going to say?”

Jack’s stomach twists and he feels nauseous. Wondering if you’ve decided that it was a mistake. He swallows harshly and whirls around, not wanting to hear how you plan on letting him down or friend zoning him.

“I’m going to tell him the truth,” he misses hearing you say. “That I’ve been in love with him for six years, and that I’m done being a coward about it.” This mission so easily could have killed you every single day that it became something of an eye opener. Getting back to Jack had become the most dominant and driving force in your mind at times.

Walking down to his office has Jack twisted in knots. He’s never been a coward before but he damn sure feels like running. Playing back that night in his head over and over had made him realize what he had said. More importantly, what you hadn’t said back. Walking over to his bar cart, he pours himself a heavy double and bolts it down. He’ll get wasted after you crush his hopes but that was needed so he doesn’t beg like a pathetic wretch. He needs to keep his pride somehow.

It’s twenty more minutes before he hears footsteps in the hall and hears your tentative voice calling his name. “Jack?” There’s nerves in it, anxiety hovering around you despite your triumphant mission. But you appear in his doorway looking worried and chewing your lip. “Hey…you’re still here.”

“Work’s never done.” Jack huffs, plastering on a friendly but not too friendly expression. “Haven’t seen you around in a few weeks. Mission go alright?” It’s painful to see you in that doorway, looking tired and beautiful. Reminding him of how you looked before he had fallen asleep and lost you.

“I’m home and in one piece.” It’s what you always say, but at least it’s true. He doesn’t exactly look happy to see you, though, and that makes you falter a little. Not enough to shake your resolve, but your optimism that he’ll respond with joy cracks right away. “Do you…can we talk a little?”

“Sure.” He takes off his reading glasses and stands. Moving over to the alcohol again. “Want a drink?” He asks, not looking over his shoulder at you. He sees the worry on your face and knows you are concerned about your working relationship. What he will do will be accept your wants, wish you well and promise that he will not let what happened affect your professional relationship. Then he will demand a transfer to the New York office, permanently. You nod and he pours out two drinks. “What’s on your mind, Rye?”

“Well…you are.” It seems like such an obvious answer that it almost feels silly saying it, but he won’t even look you in the eye so staring at the beginning seems like a good idea.

“Oh?” Turning around is hard, but he manages to look curious instead of sick to his stomach. “Now why would I be on your mind, sugar?” The endearment slips out and he nearly bites his tongue as he carries them over to the small sofa area.

The message is loud and clear: it really didn’t mean anything to him. Regardless, though, you have to power through. If he really didn’t mean what he said and has no interest in being with you, you’ll request a permanent transfer. Chicago, Dallas, Los Angeles — anywhere but here or New York. Swallowing a sigh, you accept the glass from him but just hold it in your hands while you gather your thoughts. “I’m sorry we didn’t get to talk before I had to leave,” you start, trying not to let the warmth and proximity of him get under your skin so easily. But you can’t really help it. “I did the best I could for a message to let you know what had happened, but it wasn’t much. And I’m sorry for that, too.”

His facade cracks, the scowl as quick to vanish as it appears and he scoffs. “Message received, Rye. A lone sequin on the floor. Practically like it was a dream, except for that.” He tosses back the whiskey. “Can you just get to the part where you tell me it was a mistake, you don’t want to ruin our friendship or work relationship? Or whatever bullshit excuse you’ve settled on to tell me you regret it?” His eyes are dark and pained when they finally land on you, barely resisting the urge to flee.

“On the floor?” Your brow furrowed instantly, a frown painting itself on your lips, and you set the glass in your hands aside to shift closer to him on the little couch. “Jack, I left a sequin on your nightstand.” The choice was even more horrible than you had worried it would be, apparently, because he looks so hurt he could actually cry. A fact which makes you instantly want to cry as well. “A black sequin was the best I could do for a signal. It—it must have…blown off. Stupid fucking flapper dress with all that fringe. It must have gone flying when I left the room.” There was no other breeze, no window open or fan blowing. Only you could have sabotaged yourself like that.

He doesn’t believe you and shakes his head. “Why would you leave a black-“ he trails off when it hits him. Black sequin - Code Black. Trying to tell him that you had wanted to leave a message but couldn’t. Champ had broken protocol by telling him about the Code Black and apparently you had tried to signal the same thing. “Really?”

“Yes, really.” You shake your head in resignation, blowing out a shuddering breath. “I didn’t want to leave. Especially not after…” Another shaky breath leaves the rest of you shaking in turn, and you shove your hands under your legs on the couch. This is the most terrifying thing you’ve ever asked a person in your entire life. “Did you…mean it? What you said?”

Jack bites his lip, wanting to ask you what you’re talking about but he can’t do that. You look distraught that he had thought you had just disappeared. “Yeah.” Jack admits quietly. “Look, I know that it’s not something you were expectin’ ta hear, and you don’t feel the same.” He rolls on with the emotions that he needs to get out. “I won’t be mad, or take it out on you. But that night….fuck.” He blows out a breath. “I got to touch you. Just like I fuckin’ dreamed of. And I couldn’t just let you think it was a heat of the moment thing for me.”

“Why do you think I don’t feel the same?” With your heart beating wildly and your shakiness only increasing, there’s a sort of explosive quality in your mind and body that you can’t quite figure out how to control. Like all you want to do is launch yourself at him for a kiss but you know you need to talk first. To get it all out in the open. To be honest with each other. “I—I honestly had no idea you thought of me as anything but a friend. I was…well…shocked is a bit of an understatement.”

Jack snorts. “I know my reputation. Hell, I crafted it. But I couldn’t flirt with you. It’s too- shit- you had me from the first time we met. I was fucking hooked and it wouldn’t have been right. You were a junior agent and -“ he shakes his head. “I was running from the kind of commitment you were made for.”

“Your reputation was built by a man who had loved his wife so deeply that he couldn’t bear the thought of loving and losing again,” you remind him quietly. You sure you hadn’t known that right away, but when you had learned about his wife and son, you understood implicitly. “But it…it never stopped me from falling in love with you. Even when I thought I’d never be more to you than an acquaintance. I considered myself damn lucky to eventually become your friend. I just thought…I thought the fact that you never, ever flirted with me…meant that it was unrequited. So I made myself okay with it. Until two weeks ago.”

“I respect you, Rye.” Jack murmurs quietly. “I didn’t want to make it seem like you were everyone else, because you weren’t.” It’s backwards and twisted, but no one ever said that he had defeated all his demons. “When I broke- I gave you everything.”

“More than you know.” A soft huff of a laugh escapes you and you shake your head again, willing your nerves to calm down even a little. “Just…please understand, Jack. That I’ve been in love with you since the second I met you. And the only reason I didn’t say it back the night we slept together is because I was so shocked to hear it from you in the first place. I thought I’d hallucinated what I wanted to hear, and then before I knew it we were asleep…and then I woke up to a Code Black.”

“I was upset.” Jack admits quietly. “Really upset.” He flushes slightly. “May have been thinkin’ some not-so-polite things until Tequila told me it was you who was slated for the mission.” He won’t tell you that Champ had broken the rules. “Convinced myself that you had run off to go save the world so you wouldn’t have to tell me that you’d had too much alcohol and that’s why you let me take you home.”

“Not at all.” Taking a chance, you reach for his hand and practically sigh in relief when he slots his fingers through yours. “I pretty much thought I’d died and gone to heaven, if I’m honest. I just kept thinking…if this only happens once, I never want to forget a single thing.” You squeeze his hand gently, wishing you could have said all this two weeks ago. “I’m sorry my message didn’t work. That’s…you have every right to think nasty things about me. I’m so sorry.”

“No I don’t.” Jack protests. “Not if you meant to be here. Not if you wanted to be here the next morning. Then it’s just a bad misunderstanding and I’m sorry.”

“Then I guess we’re both sorry.” He’ll never know that you cried all the way to the office that morning at having to leave him, you decide right now. It would only make him feel even more guilty and he doesn’t deserve that. “But I’m not sorry about what happened between us.”

“You aren’t?” He tightens his grip on your hand, relaxing slowly as you talk and he understands that this was one giant cluster fuck. He’s used to those, he can handle those. “That’s good, sugar. Because New Years was probably the best night of my life.”

“God, I hope you mean that.” Your shakiness is for more than one reason, although you needed to have this conversation first. Whatever the two of you decide will happen next is a decision made by both of you, not just you alone. “Because…Ginger couldn’t clear me…after my physical. I can’t go back on the list.”

Jack frowns, brows pulling together. “Why can’t Ginger clear you? What’s wrong?” There’s a number of things that can be fixed by Statesman tech and he’s worried that it’s something bad.

Your stomach churns with worry, but there’s nothing to be done about it now. The unmistakable advances of Statesman tech can do things that most doctors absolutely cannot, thanks to Ginger Ale, and you’re not sure whether to thank her or curse her. “It’s not that something’s wrong, technically,” you admit, giving another worried squeeze to his hand. “But we probably ought to have used that condom…”

Jack’s eyes widen and they drop to your stomach, discerning the meaning of your comment. You aren’t a liar and Jack would believe you if you said you didn’t sleep with someone else, but he’s confused. “Sugar- how?” He chokes out. “I got snipped when I joined Statesman.”

“When was the last time you had your sperm count checked?” You had made Ginger do the test three times, but the result was always the same. Your birth control failed and Jack’s second kid is already growing, if very slowly. “The chances of a vasectomy failing are less than one percent, but it can still happen.”

Jack frowns and then rolls his eyes and groans. “The chamber.” He remembers. “When I got shot and then- uh, put back together.” He shakes his head. “Ging said I might need to get it checked but I dadgum forgot.” He bites his lip and tries not to freak out over the fact that you are pregnant after your one and only time together. “What do you want, sugar?” He asks.

“Not more than you’re willing to give freely.” The answer is that you want all of him. Every single bit. Love and a life and a family. But you know that even if Jack does love you, he’s never loved anyone the way he loved his wife. And losing Maria nearly destroyed him, so he may not be willing to take that chance again. “But I…unless you really object…I’m keeping the baby. Even if you don’t want a commitment or anything. I just…you’re right about me. I want a family and if this is my only chance I don’t want to give that up. Especially not if I get even the littlest piece of you with it.”

“You think I would-“ he shakes his head. “No, I would never force you, one way or the other.” He frowns. “I was asking if you wanted to have a baby. And if you think I’m gonna sit back and let you raise it by yourself, you must have hit your dadgum head.”

“I want this baby.” It had only taken about ten seconds after learning it existed to determine that, even if you’re still grappling with the reality of it. “And I want you.” You inch closer to him on the couch. “However you want to be together. That part is up to you.”

“It’s been a long damn time since I’ve thought about being a daddy, sugar.” There’s a slight smirk on his face but he doesn’t make the obvious crude joke. “But I’m pretty traditional when you break it down. I’m not gonna want to be apart from you and our baby.”

He might not have made the joke but you still laugh, having made the sugar daddy connection in your mind easily enough. “I know it’s a lot, Jack. And we didn’t plan it. But…” All you can do is shrug your shoulders slightly, looking up at him with such obvious hope and even more obvious water behind your eyes. “But, I love you.”

“I meant it, baby girl.” He promises you, reaching out to caress your cheek and then cup it. “I love you. I love you so much, sugar.” Licking his lips, his eyes drop down to yours. “Can I kiss you?”

"I wish you would." practically beaming at him, you lean in and let the moment wash over you. Jack's lips against yours. His hands on your skin. His baby - your baby - is already starting to grow.

Jack pulls you close, pressing his lips against yours and groaning softly. “Sugar, you’re gonna have my baby.” He whispers against your lips in awe. “Just the one time, one time between your thighs and you are carrying my baby.”

“One time is all it takes.” You can’t help the broad way you smile, giggling softly against his lips as you steal another kiss.

“I don’t regret it.” He promises. “I don’t regret you.” He smiles as he kisses you again. “We really did shake things up for New Years, didn’t we?”

“Just a little bit.” Another laugh escapes you, and you lean into his side only to be rewarded with Jack’s arms encircling you and holding you close. “I don’t regret any of it. Except maybe not making my message a whole lot clearer.”

“We’ll get better at communicatin’.” Jack promises with a smile. “We’re partners now.”

“Do you want to go get dinner, maybe?” The end of a mission can be crazy even when it’s successful, and you just want to try to relax tonight. Especially with everything changing in your personal life too, apparently. “My treat?”

Jack scoffs and shakes his head. “You ain’t paying, sugar.” He huffs. “Not while you’re with me. If you want dinner, we can go out, or I can take you home and throw some steaks on the grill.”

“I kind of want to celebrate,” you admit, feeling silly about it even though it’s the truth. “If that’s okay?”

“Then we’ll go out and celebrate.” Jack promises before he frowns at something you had said. “Why would you have thought I would never be interested in you?”

“Because…” It feels sillier than the celebration thing now that you know the truth. Silly and even a little pointless, but he asked so you’ll tell him. “Because you flirted with every woman in the world besides me. Which Ginger said is how she knew you were interested in me. But I didn’t believe her.”

“You know you’re wrong, don’t cha?” Jack asks you. “When you said that you get sent on assignments to be invisible? You’re sent on the assignments you are given because you get the job done. Champ knows that if he gives you a task, it will be done.”

“Whatever the reason is, he’ll have to do without me for about a year.” It isn’t worth having a debate over your lack of self esteem with him right now, and you especially don’t want to ruin the mood by crying anything other than happy tears, so you just redirect the conversation altogether. “This baby is my top priority.”

“Our top priority.” He corrects you. He’s nervous, terrified really, but there’s no one he’d rather have a happy accident with than you. “Our New Year’s baby.”

______

Master Tags: @pixiedurango @chattychell @winter-fox-queen @lady-himbo @artsymaddie @princess76179 @paintballkid711 @missminkylove @pedrosbrat @ew-erin @sarahjkl82-blog @sharkbait77 @justanotherblonde23 @lv7867 @recklesswit @mylittlesenaar @f0rever15elf @gallowsjoker @steeevienicks @athalien @sherala007 @skvatnavle @thatpinkshirt @jaime1110 @girlimjusttryingtoreadfanfics @goodgriefitsawildworld @greeneyedblondie44 @katheriner1999 @littlemousedroid @harriedandharassed @churchill356 @ajathegreats-blog @haylzcyon @beardsanddetectives @kirsteng42 @ladykatakuri @adancedivasmom @madiebear @tanzthompson @emilianamason @bigsdinger @xocalliexo @pedr0swh0r3 @avaleineandafryingpan @charlyrmv @avidreader73 @iceclaw101 @loveslide @elegantduckturtle @becsworld @julesonrecord @its-nebuleuse @itsrubberbisquit @mikeyswifie @guelyury @lizzie-cakes @for-a-longlongtime @vabeachazn @purplerain04

#Pedro Pascal #Pedro Pascal character fanfiction #Pedro Pascal fanfic #Jack Daniels #Agent Whiskey #Jack Daniels x reader #Jack Daniels x you #Jack Daniels x female reader #Jack Daniels x f!reader #Jack Daniels x plus size reader #Jack 'Whiskey' Daniels #Kingsman Golden Circle #new years eve #new years fic #idiots in love #pining #the love is requited they're just dumb

[justawritterwithideas]

Who's your daddy? | s.r

summary: After a long day's work, the BAU returns to the head office where they find a stroller with a small baby sleeping and a child very determined to surprise his father… But who's his father?

warnings: too much fluff, spencer!dad, my best attempt at Spencer dad because it's 24/7 on my mind. I REALLY ENJOYED WRITING IT, AAAAAAAAAAA. This story is not spencer x reader, i wanted to try something different so i created a character. I hope you guys like it.

words: 4,241.

a/n: I decided to surprise myself and try the family/family found challenge from one of my favorite writers in the whole universe, @imagining-in-the-margins. I used, I think, one of my favorite concepts which is "secret family/spouse/child" for this little au.

i want to remind you that English is not my first language, so if there are mistakes I hope you will forgive me :( I hope you like it, plus I really enjoyed being able to try something new and outside of what I usually focus my writing on. THANK YOU, TQM.

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Catching criminals is a good way to kill time.

The BAU team knew this perfectly well, that's why they were dedicated to it. Every day was a new experience trying to find and capture the worst of the worst of humanity. Even though sometimes they just wished those freaks would take a day off.

The last case had sent them all the way to Silicon Valley, successfully catching the unsub and making it safely back to the FBI offices.

What they didn't expect was to find their technical analyst and friend, Penelope, gazing in amazement at the inside of a stroller.

"What is that, Penny?" asked Emily, walking up to the blonde figure who was totally engrossed by what she was seeing in that baby carriage. The group approached silently, after seeing the woman's signal for them to come as quietly as possible, and saw inside it.

A small baby was sleeping comfortably inside. They estimated that he was about eight months old; they could see a few strands of thin brown hair that were tousled falling down his forehead, his little nose was puckered and his little hand clenched the tail of a fluffy lion. His outfit was as cute as possible: his body was adorned by a white long-sleeved T-shirt with an iguana on it and a leaf-green overalls, but much of his body was covered by a gray blanket.

"Isn't that the cutest thing you've ever seen?" Penn looked up, feeling her heart stir. "I went out to greet you and found this beautiful creature. He was sleeping and alone, so I decided to keep him company until someone came to claim to be the father of this beautiful peach." J.J couldn't fall for the charms of that baby, after becoming a mother her Achilles heel was children.

"Was he alone, Penelope, are you sure there was no one with him?" Luke couldn't help but wonder how it was possible that they had left a baby, alone, in the middle of a hallway in a federal building. "Positive, I've been there for about ten minutes and I haven't seen anyone approach him."

The team brought their full attention to the mysterious stroller, looking for some sign of what would be the perpetrators. Hanging there was a gray-colored bag with a small giraffe keychain; inside it was the necessities for any kind of emergency that might happen. Diapers, change of clothes, some food, powdered milk, a bottle, everything necessary for a baby.

"We should check the cameras to see who brought him here" Matt suggested, feeling his nose being invaded by the smell of baby cologne, a very mild and almost hypnotic one.

"It's a blind spot, Matt." Tara replied, noticing how the little guy rolled over and let out an adorable yawn, falling back asleep. "He's too cute." Penelope's eyes seemed to shoot hearts.

"We should move him out of the hallway, it's drafty and he might catch a cold." J.J brought her hands up to the carriage and began to push it, being followed by the rest of the people back to their cubicles.

Despite the movement, the little boy, who was now nicknamed "peach" thanks to Garcia, remained in that deep sleep.

"I wish I had that deep sleep" Emily smiled, looking at peach's features.

He looked like someone.

Who was it?

"I want to go back to those times where my only problem was sleeping and eating" Rossi commented, causing his colleagues to laugh.

"I don't understand how a baby could have gotten up there without anyone seeing him. It's a building full of federal agents, there's no way no one saw anything." Matt nodded at Luke's words. "Let's jump to conclusions, how did a sleeping baby get here? There's no way he pushed his own car to get here." J.J peeled his gaze from the car, feeling a light bulb in his head turn on.

"In the bag there were juice boxes, it is unlikely that they are for him. It is recommended that at twelve months they can only have juice, so they may be from the parent or he has a brother or sister accompanying him" Rossi smiled, nodding at the words the young woman was saying. It was quite logical coming from the mother bear.

"If that were so, where is this responsabl-"

"Excuse me," A high pitched voice interrupted Luke's sentence "I believe you have my brother."

The group turned to see where the voice was coming from. A small figure was standing behind them, he looked quite calm and was running his hands down his brown pants.

The small glasses were drooping down the bridge of his nose, his hair was disheveled just like his little brother's and his hands were arranging the sleeves of his blue hoodie.

"I-is he your brother?" Emily stood at the height of the youngest, who was nodding before he approached the baby carriage and took to watching the little one, inwardly thankful that he remained in his deep sleep.

"I just went to the bathroom and when I came back he was gone." The little boy drew an elongated smile, taking in the faces of everyone around the stroller. " You're federal agents, so I didn't panic too much when I didn't see him."

The boy settled on the floor, taking off the backpack he was carrying and pulled out of it a book, which had in golden letters the title of "The Little Prince." Apparently, it was in French.

"How do you know we're federal agents?" Luke seemed just as surprised as the others, who didn't understand how the youngest could remain calm after taking his brother away, and besides, he knew they were federal agents.

"It says so on your badge, sir" The small hand pointed in the direction of the badge hanging from his pants, causing everyone to turn their gaze to it. "Besides, my mom told me."

"And where is your mom?" Rossi was the one who took the word, smiling at the confidence the young man possessed.

"That's a good question, sir. I'd like to know where she is, too." He shrugged, trying to remember what the woman had told him before leaving him in the hallway of the BAU office. "I know she told me, but at the moment I can't remember. It was too noisy when she said it."

The rest were silent. The little boy was handling a rather formal vocabulary, one that is very strange for his age, plus he looked quite interested in reading his book than paying attention to the rest of the stares.

"Excuse me, sweetheart… But how old are you?" Penelope smiled friendly towards the young man, who took his eyes off his interesting book.

"Five and a half, but many say from the way I talk I'm older."

Luke opened his mouth, surprised at the young age he possessed and that, moreover, he was in charge of his brother.

"What about your brother, how old is he?"

"He's eight months and two weeks old, he's still not close enough to say he's nine months old, so I'd rather be exact."

Emily was increasingly sure that he looked like an exact copy of someone she knows, but she couldn't associate it.

"Even so," Continued the young boy "there's something you guys haven't asked me" the book took a step back, closing it and setting it down on his lap.

"What's that, kiddo?" Tara asked.

"My name or my brother's" The group looked at each other. He was right, they had been so preoccupied with finding out about the person in charge of them or their age that they had overlooked asking his name.

"You're right, that was rude of us, what's your name?" Matt fixed his gaze on the young figure, who was giving them a smile where one of his front teeth was missing.

"I'm Alex, well… Actually my name is Alexander, but my mom and dad call me Alex, except when they're mad." A small giggle escaped Jennifer's mouth. "And my brother's name is Oliver, but we call him Oli."

"Well, it's nice to meet you, Alex." Matt's hand extended in the direction of the little boy, who shook it with a smile. "What about you guys, what are your names?"

The group smiled, introducing themselves to each other so that the young boy could remember each name without a problem. After this, the little boy began to repeat the names, making sure he could remember each one well and be able to get each name right.

"Okay, Alex. Now that we know each other, I want to ask you a question" J.J addressed the little one, who gave him his full attention.

"Shoot, Miss J.J" His answer caused everyone to laugh, letting the little guy's charisma win them over.

"What are you doing here? I don't think you decided to come here at nine o'clock at night with your brother and mother just to see the place."

"Well, we actually came to see my dad." Admitted the little boy, adjusting his glasses.

"Your dad? And where is he?" Penelope searched with her gaze, as if she were on her computer looking up the information on her servers.

"It's a surprise! Dad doesn't know we're here, it's the first time we've come to see him at work. I wanted to surprise him so I asked Mom if she could bring me here, and since I've been good, she agreed." Proudly, Alex reached into his backpack for a neatly folded piece of paper. He opened it and held it out to J.J., who was surprised at the grades on that slip of paper.

"Wow, I see only A's here" The printout passed from hand to hand, noting that every course had been passed with the highest grade.

"Yep, even sports! Mr. Adams, my teacher, said I'd been the fastest in the class. Even though I prefer literature, I got along better with letters than balls."

Emily was sure she was a clear copy of the youngest on her team, Spencer Reid.

Wait, where was Spencer?

"Where is Spencer?" Emily turned her gaze to her buddies, who were handing the paper back to Alex so he could put it in his backpack.

"He said he was going to do some stuff on the fourth floor, then he'd be on his way here." Tara replied, turning her attention back to the little boy. "By the way, what's your dad's name? Maybe we can help you look for him, we're the best profiling group in the whole FBI, so we can find him fast."

"His name is Dad!"

"And what's your mom's name?"

"Mom?"

The group went blank. It was clear that a five-year-old wouldn't know what his father or mother's name was. Despite being quite intelligent, to him his parents were called "Mom and Dad."

But it seemed they had managed to summon something, for after mentioning the progenitor of both, little Oliver interrupted their conversation with a whimper announcing that his bedtime was over, plus his beloved mother figure was missing.

"Oh no…"

Alex moved in the direction of the backpack, opening it to look for his brother's pacifier.

The longer they lingered, the louder and louder the little boy's crying got. J.J tried to cuddle him, trying to soothe him while Emily rocked the stroller back and forth and Tara hummed a lullaby.

Luke and Matt were trying to distract him, waving their hands in front of him and making funny faces. Rossi was trying to help Penelope and little Alex with the search for the pacifier, who would occasionally bring his hands to his ears to stop the sound of his brother for a couple of seconds.

But silence came in surprise, causing everyone to stop their actions. Their gazes turned to the baby, who was giving a giggly laugh and wiggling his feet, babbling something. It looked like Oliver was feeling something.

"What's going on here?" a female voice interrupted them, again directing their gaze back.

A tall woman, who was wearing a simple beige sweater and black pants plus black converses, was approaching the stroller. The group of people moved away from her, who was leaving a plastic bag with a box in it on one of the desks and holding the baby in her hands.

She made sure to settle him on her shoulder, stroking his back slowly. Alex smiled, moving closer to the young woman and hugged her side, letting his glasses lift a little from being so tight against her.

"Mommy! Where were you, I thought you'd left me alone forever! Well… Not alone, I was with Oli but you know what I mean." The woman let out a giggle, bringing her free hand to the younger one's disheveled hair and stroked it, feeling the younger one squeeze tighter and tighter.

"Alex, love, I told you I was going to the store to buy Daddy's donuts, don't you remember?" She pushed little Oliver away so she could kiss his forehead and settle him back into the stroller. Her hands, now free, went to Oli's side and took a small pacifier, bringing it up to the baby's mouth, which he immediately accepted to begin sucking on.

"Oh… That's what you told me."

Thewhole group let out a laugh, noticing the little one's rosy cheeks. The woman, now recognized as "mommy", turned to look at the group who had taken it upon themselves to care for her two children.

"Gee, sorry for ignoring you guys." The girl giggled, giving them the same look Alex had given them a few minutes ago, fixing on each one. "Thanks for watching them, I know Alex is responsible, but I'm glad to know there were older ones around."

"You don't have to, Alex was a sweetheart. We were nosy and took his little brother, it was our mistake." Emily admitted.

"That's right, Mommy! I went to the bathroom and they had taken Oli" The young woman simply laughed, kissing the younger boy's forehead before speaking again.

"It's okay, kiddo. They did the right thing, they did the reasonable thing."

"We tried to find out who his parents were, but he told us their names were mom and dad" Alex nodded, looking at his progenitor who seemed quite amused by the whole situation.

Alex took her mother's hand, motioning her to come closer to tell her something. The female complied, listening intently to what her young son was saying before she let out a giggle and nodded, returning to her position.

"Well, actually called me mommy. But before I was called mommy I had another name, pumpkin. My name is Amanda, but at home they call me mommy or baba." Alex opened his eyes, surprised that his mother had another name besides "mommy."

"It's a pleasure, Amanda. I see all your names start with a vowel." Rossi was the first to speak, reaching out to shake Amanda's hand. "Your husband's too?"

"No, he's the exception." The femme admitted, beginning to wave to the round of people standing there.

For a couple of minutes, the group began a pleasant conversation where they talked about the time she was missing. They had jumped to the wildest conclusions, but they knew that at some point they would meet the mother of those two angels.

"Oh, I bought a lot of donuts now that I remember, do you like them? They're my husband's favorite." The woman walked over to the bag, from which she pulled out the box and smiled.

The group appreciated the gesture, beginning to receive and distribute the pastry among those present.

A chocolate-covered doughnut with sprinkles on top was received by each person.

Wait… Her husband's favorite?

Emily looked at the two little ones, then her gaze went to the young woman, then to the doughnut and her eyes went back to the little ones.

Emily could feel her head smoking from the way she worked.

No, it wasn't possible.

Spencer would have told her if it was.

"Excuse me, Amanda…" The mentioned one looked up, fixing her gaze on Emily as little Alex took small bites of his donut and shared it with his mother. "What-what did you say your husband's name was?"

"Oh! I didn't say it, actually." She admitted, taking a bite of the donut she was sharing with Alex. "His name is Spe-"

The answer interrupted by the shout Alex gave, turning away from his mother to run down the hallway for the new presence.

"Daddy! Daddy!"

Spencer peered down the elevator, noticing how the small little man ran into his arms and pounced on him.

"Alex! What are you doing here, little one?" He carried the little guy, leaving a resounding kiss on his cheek and looked him in the face. His cheeks were covered with chocolate and his glasses were drooping gracefully down his nose. "Are you alone, who brought you?"

"Mom did!" The youngest was smiling happily, playing with his progenitor's hair. "Dad, did you know Mom has another name besides Mom, her name is Amanda!"

"Yes, buddy. I knew mommy's name was Amanda, but I affectionately call her Mandi."

"I thought you called her Mommy, not Mandi."

Spencer carried his little boy over to the cubicles, finding his work group/friends staring at him with stupefaction on their faces. He was sure their faces were perfect for being part of a surreal painting.

"Spence, surprise." Amanda approached the man, leaving a kiss on his lips and received her husband's kiss back.

"What are you two doing here?" Spencer looked at his family with some surprise.

"Three, daddy. Oli's here too" The little hand pointed toward the stroller, where the movement of the youngest of the Reid family could be heard.

Spencer walked over to the baby carriage, leaving the eldest of the Reid brothers on the floor and peeked out so he could see his little boy, his newest devotion.

"Hi Oli, are you awake yet? Daddy's here." Oliver watched his father with his big hazel eyes, moving his hands so he could reach one of his father's curls. "Hey, buddy. How big are you." The man took the little guy in his hands, drawing him into his body so he could carry him, smiling at the feel of his son's movement stopping as he began to pet him.

The whole group was silent, unable to believe that the youngest of their team had such a well-kept secret.

A wife and two children! How was it possible that even Emily hadn't known about this?

"Spencer…w-what is this? When did you intend to tell us? About your wife, about your children, about-about this!" Emily waved her hands around trying to take in the situation, feeling the pieces of the puzzle coming together on their own.

"I thought Hotch was going to tell you before he left." Spencer looked at the group of people, stopping his gaze on his wife who lifts her shoulders, trying to tell him "don't even look at me, I didn't say anything."

"Clearly he didn't say it" Jennifer looked at her best friend, trying to look as relaxed as possible, but it was impossible, I guess no one was trying to "act cool" at that moment.

"Well, I guess it's time to introduce you to my family." Amanda smiled, leaning against one of the desks as she watched Alex approach her. "This is Amanda, Amanda Reid, my wife" The young woman waved her hand, crossing her arms again with a smile on her mouth. She loved that he said my wife. "This is Alexander Reid and Oliver Reid, Alex and Oli of affection." Little Alex smiled, again waving to everyone with his hand and took what was left of the donut his mother offered him.

"How long have you been married?" Next to speak was Rossi, who felt Hotch had betrayed him by keeping that secret so long.

"Well, married… we've been married for five years. Dating we've been dating for seven…" Amanda turned to look at her husband.

"Seven years, five months and thirteen days." Spencer nodded, looking down at the baby who had just fallen asleep in his arms.

"So…" Matt looked over at Alexander, who looked amused eating the sprinkles on top of the donut.

"Yeah, Alex was a surprise. We knew we wanted to be parents, but we wanted to live together first, and well… The first night of living together caused Alex's arrival." Amanda laughed with her cheeks flushed, noticing how Spencer's cheeks were also filled with that crimson red. "Oli arrived after a couple of tries. We didn't want Alex to be alone and have to read all the books to himself."

"Now he reads Oli to sleep, like the good big brother he is" Spencer smiled, placing little Oliver in the most comfortable place to sleep.

After that confession, the pair settled in at the desk where the woman was sitting.

"I have so many questions I can't process, I really don't understand. So…how come we didn't see this in your apartment when you went to jail? We'd be completely blind if we hadn't noticed." Penelope had gotten to a good point, causing the friends to nod and the pair looked at each other before they could respond.

"It's because you guys went to Spence's old apartment." Amanda replied. "When we had Alex, we outgrew the apartment. We tried to look at an apartment in the same building, but they were all the same, so we pooled our paychecks and managed to rent a slightly larger apartment down the street from there. After Oliver came along we had to move to a bigger place." Spencer nodded, wiping the corner of his son's lip, which was full of chocolate. "But when Spence needs to focus, he goes to his old apartment to work. Diana was living there for a season and then she came to our house." The young woman pushed her hair back, feeling her husband's warm hand wrap around her hip.

The group was attentive to what they were saying, nodding at every word and concentrating on the story they had for them. Like little children, they formed around the young couple to follow their narrative.

"When Mexico and jail happened, it was really an ordeal. Hotch called us to get into the program with him and Jack, we had to go into hiding because we were Spencer's immediate family. Before Diana could hide she was kidnapped and, well, you know the rest of the story." Amanda's hand went to her son's hair, playing with the unruly locks of the scalp. They were exactly the same as his father's.

"But we would have known, I would have figured it out! H-how did you…?" Penelope was utterly convinced she would have found that information.

"It wasn't in the system." Spencer admitted. "I begged Hotch not to release it, it's manually, on paper. But online it's not, it was more likely to endanger my family." The young couple looked at each other and gave each other a smile. Sighing, Spencer continued. "Something like Foyet and Hotch would have happened, it was too dangerous. I wasn't willing to lose them and place them in danger."

Finally, the group of people began to understand, nodding at what he was saying and relaxing after that news.

"Spence had intended to tell them, but after Cat Adams, Scratch, Mexico, jail, Diana… I don't know when the time was right, to be honest with you." A collective chuckle filled the room echoing at that moment.

"Wow Spencer, you sure had this secret well hidden." Luke smiled, patting the younger man on the back, who was grinning broadly after breaking free of that secret that had him gnawing inside.

"Well, it's never too late to throw a welcome home party for the new family." Rossi smiled, moving closer to Amanda so he could hug her.

Mandi smiled receiving greetings from everyone, feeling like she was home.

"Good, then I'll start buying presents from now on. For both Oliver and Alex." Penelope smiled, receiving a wide smile from Alexander, who was the most excited to receive gifts. "I've missed so many birthdays and Christmases already."

"So…" Alex stole glances at everyone, who looked quite intrigued by his words. "Can I tell you aunties and uncles?"

That was the straw that broke the excitement level in the entire group, causing everyone to nod and smile broadly, feeling their chest heaving with joy.

"Did you see, Alex? Now you have lots of aunts and uncles to share, plus cousins." Spencer fell into step with his son, who was hugging him by the neck with a smile.

"That's right daddy, lots and lots!" The little boy turned to look at them all before stretching his arms out to hang around Luke's neck, who was greeting him with a smile that went so far as to make his cheeks ache.

The entire group stayed talking for a couple more minutes before deciding to head home to relax after a full day full of excitement.

Before she could get on the elevator, Emily smiled in the direction of the group of people.

"I think we know who his daddy is." Tara's whisper caused Emily to laugh and step onto the elevator, letting the doors close and signal the end of the work day.

The day had closed on a high note, not only for the capture of a criminal, but also for the discovery of a new family.

And Spencer couldn't be happier to finally reunite their families.

︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶︶

If you like it, don't forget to like and repost it.

kissesssss, bai. 💕

#spencer reid #spencerreid #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #spencerreid!dad #mentioningmargins #spencer reid fanfiction #fluff #criminal minds imagine #omg this is so cute spencer!dad is absoluty cute #spencer reid fanfic

[heartfullofleeches]

angel darling whos a bit disconnected from modern terms walking up to c.c and saying "yas girl slay. so cunty girlypop" with not contexr because they saw it online and thought it was a normal compliment

Yan Incubus + Angel Darling blurb

-

The human world is such a fun and interesting place.

Everywhere you look, you learn something new. Things have changed so much since the last time you interacted with the mortal realm, but with the help of the kind demon you met during your travels you've had an easier time at processing everything at a beginner's pace. Your superiors always warned you to steer clear of his kind, but he hardly seemed like a threat. Not only had he given you bed and board, but as an added gift for staying away from humans as he instructed the demon had given you a cellular device to use while he was away.

There was a lengthy list of restrictions on the device, his number was the only one you could call under these boundaries, but that hardly put a damper on your fascination with it. You haven't seen one of these since they were just buttons and dials attached to a cord on the wall. It's amazing how much human technology has advanced in such a short time. Regardless of setbacks you're learning new facts about the modern world left and right, and you owe it all to your new companion.

You felt as if you owed him for his kindness, despite him insisting your company was payment enough. If that truly was the case, what better way to thank him than with gentle adulation using words you've picked up during late night binges scouring the internet. He always teases you for your "grandma speech" when you've complimented him in the past, despite the flush of his cheeks reaching his ears everytime. You wonder what his reaction will be when you call him by terms more fitting to the times.

C.C poses in front of his mirror - balancing on his toes as he bends to get a better look at the curve of his skirt over his rear. "So what do you think, babe? Am I cute enough for your first night out on the town?"

It's about the sixth time he's changed his skirt alone, but you think he's looked lovely in all of them. Nevertheless- it's your time to shine. Clearing your throat, you straighten your back as your eyes meet his from the mirror.

"Slay, Queen - you are serving so much cunt, girlypop."

C.C blinks - expression drain from his face. "What?"

"I said - Sla-"

"No, I heard what you said. Where did you pick up that kind of language?"

"Aside from you, online, I suppose."

C.C rounds the side of the bed, extending his hand with a few dramatic gestures forward. "Gimme your phone."

"Huh?"

He huffs and leans in close. "Now, Y/n."

"Have I don't something to upset you?"

Eyes flashing red, C.C grips your shoulders - hissing through his teeth as he speaks. "You aren't supposed to say things like that. You're supposed to call me beautiful or "a grace among man" or any of that other cute dorky shit you normal call me."

"Oh.... my apologies. I didn't mean to offend."

C.C sighs, throwing his arms around you in a tight hug. "No.. it's alright, I just really like what you use now. It's cheesy, but it's you and you are the most adorable your God ever had a hand in creating." He kisses your cheek, lips curled into that mischievous grin he's known for as they draw up to your ear. "But - I'll gladly be your Queen any day so I don't mind if we keep that one.... I'm still blocking the sites you picked the rest of those words off of."

#yandere #yandere x you #yandere headcanons #yandere x reader #yandere blurb #yandere insert #yandere imagines #yandere oc #yandere scenarios #male yandere #yandere incubus #C.C my oc

[stellar-constellations]

Hey, your work is just phenomenal I'd love to see some more headcannons. I was wondering if you could do some falling in love, or dating headcannons for these characters.

Demon Slayer

Sanemi Shinazugawa

Muzan Kibutsuji

Spy x Family

Yuri Briar (as your most popular he has to be here. <3)

The Disastrous Life of Saiki K

Kusuo Saiki

Toritsuka Reita

Kusuke Saiki

Danganronpa

Kazuchi Soda

Bungou Stray Dogs

Dazai Osamu

Assassination Classroom

Nagisa Shiota

Karma Akabane

I hope I'm not asking to much of you! Have a great day! <3

No problem! I've been waiting for a request!

Reader is female!

WILL CONTAIN SPOILERS FOR DEMON SLAYER, SPY X FAMILY, THE DISASTROUS LIFE OF SAIKI K, DANGANRONPA, BUNGOU STRAY DOGS, AND ASSASSINATION CLASSROOM!

Sanemi Shinazugawa

If you're a Demon Slayer like him, expect to live in his estate. If you're a normal civilian, also expect to live in his estate. Even if you're a part of the Slayer Corps or not, he wants to make sure you're safe. 

I hope you like bugs because he owns a Japanese Rhinoceros Beetle. He'll let you hold if it you like bugs, if not, he understands and will keep him in his cage.

You'll most likely meet Genya and get along with him well, Genya might be shy with you at first since you're a girl, but he'll want to talk to you since you've caught his older brother's eye (which really seems impossible). 

All of the corps and even the Hashira were shocked when word spread that you and Sanemi were dating. The corps most feared Hashira and the sweet girl?! Some believe it's a fake relationship to steer girls brave enough to chase after Sanemi away. When Sanemi heard the rumors he tracked down who started them and gave them the beating of their lives.

All of the corps is scared of Sanemi more than demons. If you're placed on a mission with someone other than Sanemi, they're placing your life at utmost importance. It doesn't matter if they're bleeding out, letting the demon escape, or having a whole village burn down, there is nothing too big to sacrifice other than your own life when facing Sanemi's wrath.

Sanemi likes ohagi, please make some with him. Not only is it a cute bonding experience together, but it'll make him fall more in love with you. 

You can't make him wear collared or buttoned-up shirts. It's a proven fact.

Despite popular belief, Sanemi is very kind with his partner. He does his best not to yell at you and if he does he'll immediately apologize for it. He doesn't care if he has to swallow up his pride, your relationship together is more important to him than a mere title. He doesn't want to be seen as his father.

Sanemi will always be gentle to you. He knows he has a scary appearance and while he's proud of his figure and scars, he doesn't want them to scare you, they're supposed to scare demons!

Sanemi would never say it, but he likes when you and Genya get along together. It makes him happy knowing two of his favorite people are enjoying each other's company like how he enjoys theirs.

Sanemi is a jealous man and he'll make it known to you and everyone around him immediately (especially if Giyuu is around). He's always picking a fight because he knows he can kick anyone's ass that he feels is getting a little too buddy-buddy with you. 

If you pet his hair or gently trace his scars, he'll consider marrying you. 

Muzan Kibutsuji

If you're a human, he'll have one of the Uppermoons supervising and protecting you if he's not around (it'll most likely be Kokushibo). 

If you're a demon, he'll trust that you take care of yourself. He'll give you his blood every now and then so you can grow stronger as a demon (but not strong enough to defeat him in case you'd ever try to defy him. But you wouldn't do that, right?) He cannot have a weak demon as a partner, that'd be insulting to his image.

Muzan would regularly buy you expensive kimonos and jewelry and act as if it isn't a big deal. Not only is it to flaunt you around to demons and humans, but it's an indirect way of showing his wealth and power to others.

It's canon Muzan had six wives in the past (all who committed suicide because he was verbally abusive or he just killed them) but he wouldn't treat you like that. Those wives were a cover for his human disguise so he felt no attachment to them, however with you, he'd do just about anything you tell him to (as long as it doesn't ruin his image).

Muzan still has a hard time with emotions. If you're a demon, he'll simply just read your mind to figure out what's wrong. If you're a human, he'll straight up ask you what's wrong. Either way, he's finding out so you might as well just make it easy and tell him, don't even try to beat around the bush since he's an impatient man when it comes to unpredictable things. 

When you're alone together in peace and you're reading and he's doing research to find a cure to the sun, there's always a slight smile on his face. He enjoys the tranquility of the moment. 

Muzan doesn't like physical affection, in fact he hates it because it makes him feel all weak, but if you're having a bad day he'll rub the back of your hands or give you a few head pats and threaten you to never speak of this to anyone.

You wear red lipstick the same shade as his eyes, another indirect way of saying you belong to him, just don't kiss him with it in front of others because it's not transfer-proof.

If you're a human, he'll try to convince you to be a demon with him so you can be immortal forever. If you reject, he understands and wouldn't push on about it until probably a couple years later. If you accept, he'll have a small smile on his face (don't point it out or he'll make your transformation a little more painful than necessary). 

He's thought of having a kid so there can be a heir for his bloodline, but he quickly crossed that idea out when realizing that kids not only are bothersome, but he's a demon so he'll live forever (he believes). 

Yuri Briar

You have to really be quite the person to catch his eye! 

If you're a normal civilian, Yuri probably grew feelings for you because you're a stranger that's suddenly appeared in his everyday life. Same coffee place. Same bus home. Same breakfast sandwich order. Same grocery store. Even the same apartment complex! At this point Yuri's convinced you're either an obsessed stalker or a spy so he'd be keeping a close eye on you, only to end up falling in love with your simplicity. 

If you're an agent of the SSS, you often helped Yuri with his work since he tends to overwork himself. Yuri greatly appreciates your help since you're his superior and even though you have way more work than him, you still put in the time to help him with his less complicated work. He's always got your back when it comes to raids or shootouts, can't let his favorite superior getting hurt! You treat him for his good work by getting drinks after work. One day you got drinks together and Yuri realized that this is basically like a date. Ever since then his feelings just grew for you.

If you're a spy you and Yuri really have a complex dynamic, but one things for sure is that he falls the hardest. His always chasing you on the clock and off. Yuri doesn't exactly know when he caught feelings for you. Maybe it was when he first met you when you bumped into him wearing a disguise. Or maybe it was when he saw you later that day without your disguise and recognized your voice as you beat up him and his co-workers in a desperate attempt to escape from the SSS. It doesn't matter how you guys met, just remember he fell really hard.

Yuri always knows when there's something up with you. If your sad he'll comfort you with anything you need; a hot drink, blanket, comfort movie, a eight-foot-tall teddy bear, he has it all for you.

He likes buying you little trinkets such as necklaces or little keychains. He swoons whenever he sees that you're putting his gifts to use.

He loves your cooking! You can be a terrible or great cook; any food is better than Yor's. 

Memorizes your schedule then perfectly plans a coincidental encounter between you two where you both can hang out. 

If you ever get in a fight with someone, he'll always have your back (physical fight or verbal). Even if you're in the wrong, he'll never even think of retreating. He doesn't believe you can do anything wrong once you guys get into a relationship.

Will drop down on his knees and ask to marry you when he sees you and Yor laughing together.

Saiki Kusuo

You were a new student at PK Academy, so of course everyone got riled up to meet you. The girls wanted to know if you were smart or kind and the boys wanted to know if you're prettier than Teruhashi. 

At first Kusuo tries to stay far away from you, but that never works for him as well all know. He has no choice but to accept you as Kaido and Nendo has already taken a liking to you (you were nice to Kaidou and Nendou considers everyone a buddy). 

He's not as annoyed with your company as he is with the others and after a lot of thinking and rejecting his feelings, he finally comes to terms that the almighty Saiki Kusuo has fallen in love with a mere mortal. 

Your relationship is extremely normal and low-maintenced that nobody would've known you guys were dating until they realized you were with him 24/7. It's to the point if somebody needed you, they'd go looking for pink hair in a crowd or go to Kusuo's house.

Three months into the relationship everyone in the friend group finally found out you were dating when Nendou asked if you're dating because you were always around each other. Teruhashi ended up heartbroken while all the guys were dumbfounded but supportive.

Kusuo isn't very romantic as his whole life he never had feelings for anyone and always thought love was bothersome. Now he thinks it's "meh" (that's the best you'll get from him). 

If you're able to distract Teruhashi from him then he'll smile at you, maybe even thank you. 

He wouldn't even realize how much he exactly liked you until Kusuke was in town and decided to poke fun at his brother for having a girlfriend, always third-wheeling you both and sneakily flirting with you (Kusuo almost slammed Kusuke's head into the wall for that). 

If his headpiece controllers somehow get pulled out, broken, or lost, he'll steer clear from you. He doesn't want you to get hurt from his powers because he can't control them in that state.

You guys go on coffee jelly dates regularly. 

His family loves you. His mom teaches you recipes and cried the first time you met her. His dad asked if Kusuo brainwashed you, but was very welcoming nonetheless (brainwashed or not). Kusuke, as said earlier, loves to use you to mock Kusuo and get a reaction out of him. 

The relationship you two have is very comfortable and little pressure. 

He doesn't like PDA but he'll hold your hand every once in a while if you're in a big crowd or long line (never in school though, he doesn't need that type of attention). 

Saiki Kusuke

He is as obsessed as he is towards trying to win against Kusuo. 

You're most likely dumber than him (not in a mean way), he just likes knowing the power imbalance you two have.

He's a moderate level of romantic, giving you flowers and chocolates every once in a while or for a special occasion, but he kicks it up a few notch when he's visiting his family so he can rub it into Kusuo's face that he got a girlfriend before Kusuo could. 

He's an evil genius, you might be used as a test subject.

He'll really appreciate and love if you help out with his experiments or theories, even if he's just telling you what to do. 

He asked you out by doing a survey.

"On the scale of 0-10, how much do you love me?"

"Uh, 9?"

"Close enough to 10. We're now in a romantic relationship, you cannot resist."

"Okay...?"

While his life goals and motives are questionable, he'll at least make sure that you're safe while committing his chaotic plans.

Sometimes you have to force-feed him sleeping pills so he can finally take a break from his work. Instead of being mad, he's so enamored that you would go so far as to drugging him to make him relax and care for his wellbeing. When he wakes up he'll take the day off and spend time with you.

He likes when you wear his scientist coat.

His parents also love you. His mom cried joy and hugged you when she saw you, and his dad thought that you were brainwashed from one of Kusuke's experiments (Kusuke thought of it when he first met you, but he didn't want your personality to change so he didn't go through with it). Kusuo doesn't care about you, even if Kusuke is mocking Kusuo about not having a girlfriend, all of Kusuo's anger is directed towards Kusuke. 

He'll make you a mood necklace so he knows how you're feeling (a real one, not the 1-5 dollar ones you'd find in gift shops). Of course, he can just look at your body language and listen to your tone, but the mood necklace just makes things so easier (and he wanted to make you something sweet). 

He has no shame holding your hand or kissing you in public. He'll treat you to expensive restaurants and clothes because he makes a lot of money with his job. 

Toritsuka Reita

We all know he's a pervert. The first encounter you guys had he told you your guardian spirit as well as what color panties you wore thanks to the ghosts. After doing a quick check of your panties in the bathroom, you were very impressed instead of being grossed out like the other girls were.

You guys became friends pretty quick. Toritsuka has a very likable and funny personality when he's not being a pervert.

When you guys eventually started dating after Toritsuka's 100th confession, Saiki silently betted how long the relationship would last. It's lasted longer than 24 hours, so he lost.

Toritsuka is over the moon that you agreed on being his girlfriend. You can never be alone now, he's always with you.

He tried doing a small show for you by having the ghosts use his body but the ghosts got too carried away and wouldn't give his body back. After a scolding from you and Kusuo he didn't do it again.

Surprisingly, his perverted tendencies died down with other girls but increased with you. Your reputation in school is rivaling Teruhashi's because you saved every girl from Toritsuka's harassment. 

He plans dates with you but he's really clumsy so they always fail somehow.

You thought he insulted you once but he was talking to his guardian spirit, Nendou's dad.

If you help him with his chores at his family's temple, he'll get down on his knees and do anything you want.

He convinces you to join his club, the Occult Club, solely in hopes that you'll cling onto him whenever you get scared (sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn't). 

Sometimes he gets jealous when you're hanging out with Saiki or Kaido (Kaido took Yumehara from him). You'll have to hit him to quiet his pouting since he's being very hypocritical at the moment. 

He may be a pervert, but you love him and his energetic side. 

He's golden retriever energy. If you have black cat energy he'll be head over heels for you because of your chill and laid-back personality. He'll still be obsessed with you if you also have golden-retriever energy because you go along with his stupid plans and pranks and actually entertain his dumb questions a real thought-out answer.

Support him and his band. It may be terrible at first, but practice makes perfect. 

Kazuichi Soda

Another man who is also obsessed with you. You have to be amazing to break his infatuation from Sonia and instead have it directed it towards you. 

If you're an ultimate in the killing game, he's going to be around you 24/7 to make sure you're okay and not dead.

Insists on sleeping in the same cabin so you don't get murdered in your sleep.

He finds flowers on the island and brings them to you with heart eyes.

When someone tries to place blame on you as the killer Kazuichi will defend you tooth and nail, blood and sweat to prove that you're not the blackened. He's surprisingly backed up by mountains of evidence to prove that you were with him the whole time and that you're both not the blackened.

Will defend you against Hiyoko's relentless teasing (bullying).

He'll shield your eyes if you both discover a dead body. 

If you knew him before the killing game, he's full-on obsessed about you. He knows all of your hobbies, likes and dislikes, all of it. 

He tries to learn more about your ultimate (if you have one) with you.

If you're a normal high school student with no ultimate, he'll probably grow to loving you because of your interest in machines. You often asks him questions to the point he brings you to his shop and teaches you himself how to fix an engine or identify a problem. It's great bonding time.

You'll never have to pay for a mechanic again.

His smile is precious. Please compliment him.

He'll be shopping and end up buying at least ten things because they reminded him of you and he wants to gift them to you.

One of the most loyal men out there. He doesn't know other women exist on the world once he met you. 

He loves it when you take off his beanie and wear it, or even better, pet his hair.

Playful love bites are exchanged between the two of you in private.

Help him braid that one piece in his hair. He's in paradise being so close to you while you brush and braid his hair.

He's definitely the guy to buy matching shirts or pajamas. 

Fuyuhiko has almost punched Kazuichi multiple times by hearing Kazuichi obsess over you as his brain melts. Whenever Fuyuhiko hears your name now he panics a little inside because he's afraid Kazuichi is around and will start another obsessive rant.

Dazai Osamu

You definitely get frustrated with him a lot. Especially when he tries to kill himself.

If you don't like his suicidal tendencies, he'll tone it down a tiny bit when he's around you.

Dazai's an interesting character because of his obsession with death since he believes it'll help him discover the concept human nature. Once you understand this, distract him with ideas and hobbies that make life worth living.

Read some books to him. Dazai might complain about it at first, but at night he'll listen to the stories and fall asleep dreaming about them instead of death.

In private, he's a little more quiet and worn down. The events at the agency tuckers him out so at night he'll peacefully lay down with you and tell you about his day. Please pet his hair and tell him how much he means to you. He really needs to hear it. 

Cook him breakfast, bring him some nice breakfast in bed. Dazai would be so touched at this because you care enough to make sure he's fed that you woke up early to cook for him. 

If you're an agent in the agency, he'll always be watching your back. He might be playful and make a bunch of jokes, but he's very serious about you being injured in battle. He knows you can fend for yourself, but he'd rather himself be in bandages than you.

Dazai realized he fell for you when you both were taking a train to a town for your next case. It was dusk outside and you were starting to fall asleep on the window. He swore nothing looked more beautiful than orange on you as your reflection showed two of you, both nodding off to sleep.

Dazai is always excited when he sees you. Injured or not, he'll raise his hands and run to you for a hug, engulfs you in his chest as he goes on about how much he missed you and how mean Kunikida was to him. 

He likes PDA. He'll always been seen either holding your hand, waist, or having an arm slung around your shoulder. 

When you both have time off he'll take you around town for some window-shopping. It's just nice to be out of the house with you. 

If you're out to eat, you should go to a seafood restaurant. He loves crab. He'll order alcohol but you have to put a limit to it so he doesn't try to give himself alcohol poisoning. 

Sometimes he has nightmares about Oda, be there to comfort him. 

He knows it's hard to date him. You being able to put up with him just makes him fall even more in love with you. He'll never let you go.

"Til death do us part" is no such thing with him. Even after, you both will always be together.

Nagisa Shiota

Reframe from calling him pretty. He very much is pretty, but it brings up bad memories with him and his mom.

He'll very much enjoy it if you gently brush his hair. When he cuts his long hair after graduating from high school, he'll still allow you to brush his hair.

Help him with his notes on Korosensei. It's a fun little hobby of his so he enjoys sharing it with you (and it helps prevent the extinction of the end of the world, or at least that's what class 3-E is under the impression of).

Speaking of class 3-E, however you ended up in the End Class, Nagisa will help you improve on whatever it was that got you there in the first place whether it be grades, delinquent activity, or just sleeping too much in class.

If you dislike English, he'll help you with it since it's his favorite subject. If you're good at science, he'd really appreciate your help because it's his least favorite subject.

Every weekend you and Nagisa meet up and have a coffee date, talking about each other and how to kill Korosensei.

You both train with each other. Nagisa helps you with hand-to-hand combat and you help him with his marksmanship. 

After graduation, you and Nagisa end up moving in together. You're very supportive of his decision to become a teacher for delinquents. 

He's not very big on PDA, but he will occasionally hold your hand or hug you.

Whatever your dreams are, he's really supportive and helps you to succeeding.

You both like to people-watch and put genuine thoughts in their lives. It's a fun little thing to do and it's very entertaining.

You'll stand up to Karma's and Rio's relentless teasing about Nagisa's androgynous looks, he really appreciates it and thanks you for coming to his defense.

Your door is ways open if he needs to get away from his house and mom. You guys spend a lot of nights sleeping together in the same bed and talking about life.

Karma Akabane

You need to keep him on a leash the way he's always disappearing and starting trouble. 

If you're shorter than him, he loves to tease you about your height. If you're taller than him, he'll grab your shirt and pull you down to his height and make a teasing comment. 

He likes superhero movies and will watch them with you. You'll have movie marathons on his couch as he explains to you some backstory about the characters, their powers, and etc.

He'll try to have you ditch class with him. Sometimes he succeeds, sometimes he doesn't.

Because he gets into fights often, he has quite a few enemies, so he'll always have a watchful eye on you in case they try to target you.

He invites you to his house often. You guys hang there a lot because his parents are wealthy and traveling a lot. 

He might make stupid decisions like getting himself into fights for fun, but he's smart academically and he'll help you study (with a cost, of course). 

When you train with Karma, he'll point out your weak spots. He's ruthless when you're training but he just wants you to be prepared in case you're in a sticky situation and have to end up fighting. 

He'll convince you to help him do pranks on Korosensei. 

Canonly, his most prized possession (other than you) is a collection of spices from around the world. By having this, there's a good chance he's a good cook and will cook food for the both of you (maybe even lunch if he doesn't feel like buying it from the school). 

Since he works as a bureaucrat as an adult, his schedule is tough and crowded. On his days off he'll make sure to spend every second of it with you. 

Compliment his eyes, it'll get him flustered. 

If you retort with your own teasing comment when he decides to mess with you, he'll be slightly impressed and bark back, resulting in a little friendly competition between the two of you.

Sometimes he won't pay attention in class (or ditch entirely) so give him your notes. He'll act like he doesn't need it but he's more grateful than you think. 

        Thank you for requesting! I really enjoyed making this!

        I hoped you enjoyed this fanfic and thank you for your requests and support! Feel free to ask for anything else or any other characters from my masterlist! This applies to everyone reading, follower or not!

#stellar constellations #x y/n #x you #x reader #x yn #yuri #yuri anime #yuri briar #yuri manga #yuri spy x family #yuri x reader #yuri briar x reader #spy x family yuri #sxf yuri #demon slayer muzan #demon slayer sanemi #kny muzan #kny sanemi #sanemi x reader #muzan x reader #saiki kusuo #kusuke saiki #disastrous life of saiki k #saiki x reader #toritsuka reita #karma akabane #nagisa shiota #nagisa x reader #karma x reader #kazuichi soda x reader

[bettyfrommars]

Okay. An idea. Eddie and you, drive in, b movie monster marathon, nice crisp autumn night.

I’m over summer, sue me.

🧡🖤

Hope this puts a smile on your face Meg 🧡

Eddie Munson x Reader

18+ONLY, mature themes, smoking the devil's lettuce, b-movie references, friends to lovers, use of "baby" but no she/her or y/n, pure fluff, just some cute nonsense, Eddie and reader are in their early 20's. wc: 1.4k

I'm just a sucker (for you)

“Got it,” you crawled up into the squishy van seat with Eddie’s infamous drug lunchbox in your hand, plopping down with a theatrical smile on your face.  “I knew I felt its presence.”

Eddie sat there looking so proud, as if you’d just pulled it out of a magic hat.  “My baby is a bloodhound when it comes to the devil’s lettuce.”

You took a sharp inhale and choked a little at the use of the pet name.  You and Eddie were not romantic like that, you’d only ever been weed buddies who met through Reefer Rick.  Recently you’d discovered that he also enjoyed getting stoned or buzzed at the drive-in on Wednesday nights when they offered the cheesy, cinematic glory of b-movies by the likes of Burt I. Gordon and Roger Corman.

You’d both showed up alone to the drive-in, and on your way back to your car with a popcorn bucket almost too big for the crook of your arm, Eddie whistled to get your attention.  It was a wolf-whistle, the likes of which made you frown as you searched for who the dead man was.  His arm lolled out of the van window in a wave, and he gave you a finger gun.  

“Oh, it’s just you,” you snorted, shoving a few kernels in your mouth, fingers glistening from all of the butter.  You didn’t mind that kind of attention from Eddie because you knew he was harmless. Wasn’t he? Neither one of you had any attraction to each other, whatsoever, as far as you knew.

But then, you stopped in your tracks a few cars down, thinking about how you’d smoked your last bowl earlier, and Eddie would for sure have a decent supply on him.  Maybe it wouldn’t kill you to hang out with a fellow freak for a bit.  

The October nights were chilly, and you thought to grab a hoodie out of your car before you made your way back to his van.  The grass at your feet was scattered in burnt orange and gold leaves, and the air was crisp, yet warm, with the smell of rain and freshly cut wood.

Eddie saw you walking back and jumped out of his vehicle this time, determined to get your attention.  He held his hands behind his back, lifting up on his toes, tentatively.  “Did you come back to give me a kiss?”

His mannerisms made you chuckle.  “Keep dreaming, Munson,” you pushed the popcorn tub into his chest, and he grunted, taking it with both hands. “I thought you might like some company.”

Eddie squinted at you, whispering, leaning in, “you came to smoke all my weed like a little feral, stoner raccoon.”

The movie started —Attack of the Crab Monsters—and Eddie feared he’d left his lunchbox at home. You weren’t sure why, but you were about to stay and watch the movie with him even without the weed, but then you decided to take a chance and check around his messy van, just in case.  

“Why is there a bed set up in the back?” You asked, wondering if maybe he was in between living situations at the moment.  You’d been staying with your mom since you dropped out of college, and most days, you wished you were living in your car.  

Eddie wiggled his eyebrows at you as he fingered a joint and slipped it behind his ear, snapping the lunchbox closed.  “Wouldn't you like to know.”

You rolled your eyes.  “Please, you have about as much game as I do.  There’s no way you’re getting laid that often in this van.”

“You know what they say,” he looked around, making sure no one was walking by as he passed you the lighter.  “If the van’s a rockin’, don’t bother knockin’.”

You checked around too, and then sank down in your seat to take a long drag, passing it back to him, fanning the smoke away, coughing a few times, while the scenes from the black and white film flickered across your face. Just beyond the movie screen stretched a line of trees dressed in fall colors, and a big, bright, dark blue sky that burned purple over the hills.  

You shared sneaky pulls off of the joint for the rest of the movie, each of you getting progressively invested in the loose plot, and giggly about it all at once. Eddie asked you a few personal questions, which you weren’t expecting, and sometimes you could feel his eyes on you.  It was a double-feature night, and right after the crab monsters they were showing a personal favorite of yours: The Monster Club with Vincent Price.  

It also happened to be one of Eddie’s favorites. 

“There’s no way,” he shook his head dramatically, brushing his bangs off his forehead.  “Nope. It’s impossible you love this movie, too.  No one I know has ever even heard of it.”

“Well,” you had one foot hanging out the open window, sucking from your straw. “I feel bad for the ones who haven’t heard of it.  It’s a masterpiece.”

You let him know that you had to run to the restroom but that you would be right back, because you didn’t want to miss the beginning, and you asked if you could get him anything.  As you said it, you could tell he was doing his best to contain the smile yanking at the corners of his mouth, but his efforts were fruitless.  

“So,” he crossed his arms, tilting his head sideways to give you a curious look.  “I guess you do like spending time with me?”

“Absolutely not,” you teased, slamming his door shut on your way toward the concessions.  

There were butterflies in your stomach as you returned to the van, though; an undiagnosed thrill in your veins that had something to do with seeing his face again. 

With Vincent Price’s face looming over the parked cars, Eddie cleared his throat.  “Do you, um,  have any plans for Halloween?”

“I never have plans,” you gave a self-deprecating bark of a laugh.  Your favorite holiday was in a couple days and the most you had done was carve a few jack-o-lanterns.  “I mean, used to, when I was kid, but these last couple years have been…rough.”

Eddie kept his eyes on the screen, plucking at the steering wheel with his thumb.  “Do you, um, think you might want to come see a band with me?”

You snapped your head to look at him, but his eyes only flicked to you once before returning to the movie.  

“A buddy of mine is in a cover band and, um, they’re playing at the haunted maze,” he pressed his lips together and then blew them out on a puff of air.  “But I totally understand if it’s not your scene.  I’ve got a shit ton of old horror movies at my place, too, or I’ve got friends at Family Video, we could—”

“Eddie Munson,” you had a funny feeling flopping its way from your stomach to your heart.  “Are you asking me out on a date? Or are you just asking me to join you as a friend?”

 “Now that all depends,” he lowered his chin, wiping something imaginary off of his jeans.  “What would you say if I did ask you out? Would you, um, be into that sort of thing?”

“Shhhh,” you halted, eyes straight ahead.  “Hold on, I love this part.”

You used it as an excuse to reach over and grab his forearm, to touch him, to give the type of reassurance that words couldn’t.  You squeezed him through his leather jacket a few times, only a couple seconds, and Eddie watched it in slow motion, aching to take your hand.  The distance was suddenly too far.  

It was a song sequence with a vampire band on stage at the Monster Club singing “I’m just a sucker for your love.”

“You come from Pennsylvania

I’m from Transylvania

And I’m a pain in the neck...

When I kiss and fondle her

It’s like making love to a 

Colander”

You could hear Eddie mumbling the lyrics and tapping his thumb, because he knew the obscure song by heart.  

 “Yes, Eddie,” you kept your attention on the screen, and now it was you losing the battle with a smile so big it pushed up your cheeks.  “I think I would like to go on a date with you.”

#Eddie munson #Eddie Munson fluff #eddie munson x reader #October #Halloween #drive-in movie #fall #eddie x reader #requests

[themillsdaughter]

a privilege I deprive myself of

Synopsis: you would rather chew glass than see Melissa yearn for something and not have it delivered to her. the thing, however, is that your life is a shitshow, and what was meant to be an act of kindness upends any effort you've made throughout the years to keep your feelings hidden.

or slightly insecure! Melissa and traumatized! reader in a Valentine's Day au inspired by this prompt.

Words: 3.9k

Warnings: Talks of body image.

Also, my first time dabbling in this fandom and character, so... Hope you like it!

This isn’t ideal.

Valentine's Day has never been your favorite. Truthfully, you think it’s only yet another excuse for Capitalism to suck some extra cash out of millions of pockets.

You’ve thought this your entire life, regardless of being in a relationship or not. The thing, however, is that you live in a capitalist society and escaping the emotional reliance on the holiday is damn near impossible. So, throughout the years, you’ve come to terms with at least doing something for partners on the day.

Well, that is, until you’d walked in your apartment one day and found your girlfriend straddling a woman you’d never seen before.

This year, you’re single, so the whole thing had just slipped into the background, a red and pink festival more than anything else, really.

“You’re not doing anything?” Janine had asked a few days before in the teachers' lounge, brow furrowed, pity shining in her eyes. Dear God. “You know, Galentine’s Day is really popular now.”

“Honey, I barely want to celebrate the day when I have someone. Why would I make a fuss now that I have an out?” You’d gone back to grading, trying your damnest not to roll your eyes.

“Well, Tariq used to be like that, too. Even though we were together. Sometimes he would forget and go on trips, and those times were pretty lonely… You know, with all the hearts and chocolate and candles and couples around. Not that that’s the case this year, you know. I’m with Maurice, and he’s super attentive.” Her uncomfortable fidgeting had made her chair squeak. As sweet as she is, she should really learn how to stop projecting. “Anyways, I just worry about you. I don’t want you to feel lonely.”

“I don’t.”

“She doesn’t.” Melissa had said, at the same time as you. Looking up from the papers, you’d shared a grin with her. “She has enough wondering thoughts to keep her company.”

Finally, you’d given into your urge and rolled your eyes.

So this really isn’t ideal.

“I think this one is too tight, though.” The voice coming from your phone said. You turned the heat from the stove down, placed a half-lid over the pan, and picked up the device from the counter. On the screen, you saw something that made you pull out a stool from your island and thank God that the woman on the other side of the line was too busy looking at herself in the mirror, brows furiously furrowed, to notice.

Melissa had her hair up in a messy bun, her old pair of glasses hanging in the middle of her nose, and a dark red dress on that stole the breath from your lungs.

The material was soft, with satin-like finish, puffy long sleeves, a square neckline that showed her cleavage to perfection and a skirt that hit her a few inches above her knees.

Nervously, her hands tried to smooth over the creases formed on the dress by her belly.

“Maybe I could wear some spanks” she sighed. “It’s too tight, right?” She turned back to where the phone was, asking you directly.

For a few seconds, you struggled to think of something other than ‘uh’ to say. Melissa is stunning and, in those moments, you wished you’d been braver back when you’d had the chance. Maybe, she’d be asking Barbara this, getting ready as a surprise for you, not for somebody else. 

In a breath, you swallowed that feeling, locking it away with all the ones of its kind, somewhere deep, deep in your soul.

“Hun? It’s too tight, isn’t it? Who the fuck do I think I am trying on something like this.” She’d taken your silence as disapproval, and if she only knew you’d only want to see that off of her if you’d taken it out yourself…

“Shut up, will you?” You finally said. “It’s gorgeous, it looks awesome on you.”

“Yeah?”

“It’s the nicest one of the bunch.”

“I don’t know if I have spanks short enough for it, though. And I need something to get this under control.” She pushed her belly in again, and it enraged you.

“Anyone who doesn’t find that hot is not someone you should listen to.” You said, holding back the rant that always appeared on the tip of your tongue when she said shit like this.

Honestly, the struggle of straight men to like women is mind-boggling.

“You might just be too gay for this.” Melissa snorted, going into her drawer in search of the spanks.

“Well, fuck you very much.”

She barked out a laugh, and you let go of your phone to stir the food you were cooking, glad for a break from the glory of the woman you did not love like that.

Which is yet another reason why this isn’t ideal.

You don’t really care for Valentine's Day, but on the morning of the 14th, Melissa had seemed off. You tried touching on the subject while you two got coffee, as weak as Abbott’s brew always was, however, Gary walked in in all of his mustached glory and her attention immediately shifted to him.

He’s her boyfriend, it’s Valentine's Day, it was only logical.

She gave him hint after hint, pushed her shoulders a bit back, highlighting her breasts just slightly, cocked her hips some while leaning against the sink, licked her lips more than usual, everything to get an ounce of attention back. The absolute idiot fussed over the vending machine, mumbled a few words to her, eyes not even moving in her direction, before leaving with a “see ya later” tossed behind him.

The look that had taken over her face then had made your heart sink.

“He’s been like this all week.” She said during lunch break in your car. “Barbara thinks he might be planning something, says he’s not cheating, but I don’t know… I tried fooling myself with getting the perfect outfit, getting my hair and my nails done, but he hasn’t mentioned any plans, and he’s been so fucking distant, he doesn’t even seem like himself. And I really can’t handle another Joe situation.” Taking the last bite of the Shepard’s pie you’d brought her, she leaned her head against the rest.

To nearly everybody else here, she shows her angry, reactive, gray side. It’s easier for her, something that still makes her an outcast, but firmly protects her inner-self. But some magical, all-powerful, incredible being out there had made it so you were the one she chose to show her other side to, the one that is not always confident, not in her worth or her looks or her ability as a teacher.

The one that loves so intensely it scares her, and the one that has so many scars she spends half her time trying to heal them, or, at the very least, stop them from bleeding all over the place and being visible to the outside world.

“What do you think?” She said, bringing you back to the inside of your 2010s Honda. “You’ve always been better at these things.”

“Do I think he’s cheating on you?”

She nodded.

“Well, first of all, if he is, he is an absolute deepshit who doesn’t know how to count his blessing for you even giving him the time of day.”

You looked into her eyes while you said it, and she turned her head after, staring at the Tupperware in her hands. You thought you saw a blush creeping up on her cheeks.

“But I don’t think he is. Hey, maybe he’s just seen Valentine’s Day for what it is!” You nudged her arm with the back of your hand. “Maybe you’re the one who has to get on board.”

She relented a smile then, but it didn’t last.

“Mel, I think you’ll just have to ride this one out. Wait until the end of the day, so then you can actually have a conversation with him. If he really forgot or if there’s really something wrong, you’ll find out, but, honestly, me? I think he might just have some goofy-ass surprise planned.”

Melissa nodded while keeping her gaze out the window.

There’s a beat, then another, and you thought perhaps you’d convinced her, and she was only taking some time to absorb it.

“You know, you may not feel lonely with this kind of stuff, but…” She paused, voice tired, heart bearing all those tender scars, “I think I’m more like Janine than I’d thought.”

So, hm, this isn’t ideal.

You’d be damned if you let a man who didn’t realize the one in a million he had found ruin Melissa’s day.

Even if Valentine’s Day was traumatic for you, even if it was silly and forced and the world would be better off without it, Melissa was Melissa, and she deserved everything she wanted out of life. You’d thought Gary would see it, but if he didn’t, it’s up to you, even with all your emotional limitations.

So you wrote a little card. Nothing much, just made out of a fancier piece of purple paper you’d had lying around the classroom, with a heart-sticker you’d found at the bottom of your purse decorating the front page. Inside, the note wasn’t all that special, just enough for her to know she would never be alone. That you loved her. That she’d always have you, even if one day she didn’t have anyone else. That she’s your favorite, and if she wanted to, you’d take her out for dinner yourself.

As a friend, of course. Truly.

The fact she made your chest inflate and your pressure drop and a flock of butterflies run a full marathon in your stomach were not things that were included.

After sending the students home, saying goodbye to everyone else (Gregory and his Legos, Janine and her designer bag she knew nothing about, Ava and her many flings and Jacob and his slam poetry), you’d walked to the lounge, where you’d seen Barb and Mel walking towards only a few minutes earlier.

On the way there, you’d seen a bouquet of gerberas discarded on the hallway floor. You’d wondered if a poor kid had gotten broken up with on that day of all days, or if the bouquet held any card of its own. You’d picked it up, deciding to bring it to the compost pile later.

You hadn’t realized how it looked until it had been too late.

“Hey, Mel, I have something for…” You’d started, rounding the corner to enter the room.

“I love you too.” She’d said, looking into Gary’s eyes. In a split second, you’d registered there was something off about her voice, something lacking.

And now here you are, in this less than ideal situation.

All three look at you, standing in the doorway with a card and flowers, calling after another person’s girlfriend. Shit.

“What do you have for her?” Gary’s hand tightens on her waist just so.

So, yeah. Not fucking ideal.

“Hey, look at that. I uh…actually forgot the… ah… The book I was lending you.” You mumble. Spinning on your heels, you walk as fast as humanly possible without breaking into a sprint.

Stupid-ass, invented, asinine holiday.

******

You’re more than half-way through a bottle of Merlot when your doorbell rings.

“Fucking finally!” You shout, jumping from your couch, your belly clenching painfully. Opening up your front door, though, your shoulders drop. “You’re not Postmates.”

“No, I am not. You know what else I also am not? Enjoying this beautiful night with my husband.” Barbara floods you with words, walking past you into the living room.

“Why is that, exactly?” And maybe you’re starting to get drunk, because she seems furious with you, and you can’t remember the last time that ever happened.

“Because I cannot possibly enjoy what was supposed to be a romantic moment with Gerald when I get a desperate phone call from my best friend’s partner asking me if I know where she is.”

It’s too many words too fast, so you sit back down and blink hard, trying to focus.

“What are you talking about?”

“Gary called me. He doesn’t know where Melissa is.”

Melissa. Suddenly, the reason you’d started drinking comes back to you. Shit. Shit shit shit.

“Have you seen her?” Barbara seems to take pity on you, be it for your drunkenness or the way your face scrunches up at the name.

“Not since this afternoon, no. What happened?”

“Gary says she went after you, came back in a different mood. Then they got into an argument in the middle of dinner, because she didn’t seem to be enjoying it, which is strange considering she spent the day worrying he wouldn’t do anything special, as we both know.” She sits down on the futon in front of you. “He says she broke up with him right then and there, and left.”

What?

“What?”

“I don’t understand it either. What did you say to her in the hallway?”

“Nothing, I didn’t talk to her in the hallway, or at all.”

Barbara looks away, shaking her head with an incredulous smile on her lips.

“You two are… God forgive me, but infuriating.” She turns back, sighing. “Did she text you? I’ve called and called, but she hasn’t picked up. She’s not at her house, either.”

“I don’t know.” You pull your phone from the middle of the cushions. “It’s been on focus mode the whole night, I only got notifications for my food.”

“Can you try her? Maybe she’ll pick up if it’s you.”

“You’re starting to freak me out.”

“Yes, well, at least we’ll be on the same page.”

The line rings three times before going to voicemail. Then, there’s someone pressing your doorbell again. Your stomach aches.

Again, not Postmates.

“You’re an asshole!” It’s the first thing out of Melissa’s mouth. As the second person today pushes her way into your home, Barbara jumps up from her seat.

“You’re alive, you’re whole?” She turns Melissa over, taking advantage of the woman’s confusion at seeing her here. “Are you stupidly drunk?”

“Uh… No. Why…”

“Are you going to make any decisions that might land you in jail?”

“No.”

“Thank you, Jesus!” Barbara shouts, letting go of the redhead, lifting her hands in praise, and walking to the door. “Please, resolve your issues and let me have my steak in peace. I’ll call your boy-“ She looks Melissa over. “I’ll call Gary, let him know you’re okay. Goodbye. Also, you’re both on probation until further notice.”

She closes the door behind her with a bang, and the two of you are left alone, staring at each other.

Her make-up is smudged, as if she’d been crying, and that beautiful, beautiful red dress shines under the light. The vision worries you at the same time it sets the butterflies off.

Once more, with feeling: this is not ideal.

It feels like forever goes by, just like this, with neither of you moving or speaking or looking away.

Until she unclenches her fist, and you see your card, the one you’d lost on your rush to leave.

“You couldn’t have picked a better moment?” Melissa asks, placing the piece of paper on your entrance table. Her anger, so explosive moments ago, is low and dangerous now, simmering with the hurt in her eyes.

“Listen, I know how it looked-“

“Any other moment.” She keeps going, incapable of stopping now that she’s started. “Maybe one of the endless times when we sat on that fucking couch watching those boring movies you like. Or… Or maybe one of the nights when we spent hours pouring over project ideas or education strategies. Or really any other time before I made the decision to move on.”

Her heart is there, right in front of you, in the tears that drown the gorgeous green of her irises. Somehow, you feel like this is the cataclysm of thoughts and words and feelings you had both held back for years. 

“What?” You mumble for the second time tonight.

“I found every excuse in the book to avoid this, to avoid looking for someone else. And some of it was true, really. Joe did a number on me, which you know – which is why that just hurt worse.” She points to the card, bent in half and slightly crumbled. “But most of it was crap, and I knew it was crap, but I convinced myself it wasn’t because you weren’t ready, but you are amazing, and maybe it was better to wait just a little longer to see if you ever got your shit together, if you ever got over what that ex of yours did. But you never, ever did.”

“Melissa, the flowers…”

“Yeah, gerberas, my favorites, I know. That was a nice touch. You probably knew he wouldn’t remember that detail.”

“No, Mel, I didn’t buy them.” You step forward, past the table, close enough to reach out and touch her arm, if you were brave enough. You never are.

“What, are you gonna tell me you grew them too?” She snorts, humorlessly. “You know, the worst part is that you encouraged me. You told me to go after him, to let him woo me. Even this morning! You told me to wait for him, just to pull this crap.”

She raises her hand, wipes her eyes, and Christ, what the hell have you done?

She breathes in, and it would be wondrous if it weren’t terrifying, how she puts her heart away, takes the part reserved just for you to see and hides it from view.

“I’ve been in love with you for longer than I know, and this whole time you’ve been leading me on, never really letting me go, no, but still pushing me away.”

In love you with you. In love you with you.

I’ve been in love with you for longer than I know.

It reverberates inside your brain as if an echo in a museum. In love with you.

The person who lights up your days without a fail, the woman who’s made every single potential partner pale in comparison, a staple in your life so important that the mere thought of risking something that could make you lose her had forced you to bury all warm and fuzzy feelings. That woman. This woman. Melissa. Your Melissa. In love with you.

You feel your past is too broken to believe her, but still the thought of her being this hurt is unacceptable.

“Mel, I didn’t write the card to steal you away.”

You risk it now, because you feel her slipping through your fingers, and not seeing her heart when she looks into your eyes makes you feel the loneliest you ever have. You risk reaching over, placing one hand on each of her upper arms. The fabric there is so soft it surprises you.

She flinches, but allows it.

“Just to keep me from giving up, right?”

“You know me better than that.” You try, throat tight. You damn sure hope she does. “I wrote it because you seemed really hurt, and just in case Gary messed up, I wanted you to know you at least had me. You’ll always have me.”

She shakes her head, eyes welling up again.

“What a great pal you are.” Melissa whispers.

“I found the fucking flowers on the floor, I was gonna take them to the trash.” You lose your patience for a split second, because maybe you were tactless, but this is a bit too far, even for such a stubborn woman.

She raises a brow.

“I’m not trying to cover my ass.”

“’You’re the person I think about the most’” She quotes the card. “Did you mean that?”

“Of course.” You say without a thought.

“As a friend?” She challenges.

No. Yes. Maybe. It’s on the tip of your tongue.

If you risk this next step, will you lose her eventually? Like you have every other woman you have loved like this? Will you lose yet another person, yet another soul you feel you can rest beside?

You let your hands travel down slightly.

“Mostly.” She breaks eye contact, frowning. “I cherish our friendship so much, Melissa. But part of me wanted to say more. To say things that weren’t purely platonic. I didn’t mean to steer you around.” You sigh. This is… a lot. “I want to see you happy, Mel. More than anything in the world, you deserve that. And I just felt like allowing myself to feel all those things for you would jeopardize that. You’re an explosive, hot-headed, weird, outlaw Italian with a great mind and a huge, huge heart, and you’re definitely too good for me.”

She shakes her head again, but looking at those amazing, gorgeous, breathtaking green orbs, you find a glimpse of that other side of hers, even if the tears are still there, hiding underneath the surface.

“Today, I only wanted to make sure you would be okay. And I’m sorry about the misunderstanding. I truly didn’t want to ruin that moment for you.” Finally, you reach her hands, and she holds yours back. You fit. “And I have only ever encouraged you to go out there because I really believe you deserve to have the fullest life you can possibly have, and that’s probably with someone… less damaged. Someone good and kind. Someone like Gary.”

Melissa mumbles to herself in Italian.

Forse sarebbe più facile.

“But I don’t love Gary.” She says simply, in English, relaxing into your touch, sending your blood pressure through the roof.

I’ve been in love with you for longer than I know.

“I know.” You say.

You had seen it in her eyes when she’d returned his declaration earlier, the emptiness, the masking, the guilt for lying. She wanted to love him so badly.

She’d looked at you back then and, for a split second, before the confusion and embarrassment that had followed, she’d seemed relieved, as if saying there’s the one who sees me. And something more.

Now, the something more is clearer.

“I know you’re scared.” She whispers again. “And you always, always try to protect me from these things. Never when I get myself mixed up with family business or get into fights…”

“Well, I trust your right hook for that.” You can’t help yourself. She snorts very, very softly, and maybe there’s hope yet.

“But you always try to keep me safe from this, even from you.” Melissa lets go of one your hands, placing a palm against your cheek. Oh, so that’s what it means to have a heart attack. “But I have never, ever, been afraid of your baggage, you jackass.” The spark of defiance that flashes through her expression pulls a smile from you.

If someone had asked you yesterday if this happening was something you thought possible, you’d have laugh them out of the room.

“I just wish you’d given me that god-damn card before I’d wasted this dress on somebody else and had broken a man’s heart for nothing.”

“Poor Gary,” you whisper.

“Yeah… Poor Gary.”

So, perhaps it’s not ideal, with the tears and heartache and being on Barb’s bad side, but she leans up on her tip toes, squeezing your hand, palm migrating down to hold your neck, and despite not being ideal, it does feel oddly right.

“I don’t give a fuck if you hate Valentine’s Day and you think this is corny. You better kiss me before I lose my nerve, or I swear to…”

For the first time in your adult life, you forgo your mind, trying something with risks that may far outweigh the good. With a tug, you pull her in, leaning down, breath catching in your throat when your lips connect, and you find you don’t give two shits about the risks.

Heaven.

Of course, your doorbell rings not five seconds later. Fucking Postmates.

#melissa schemmenti #melissa schemmenti x reader #abbott elementary fic #angst with a dab of humor (if you squint) #can anyone tell I am really into sarcasm as a form of comedy? ANYWAYS #themillsdaughter writes #‘hey shouldn’t you be trying to finish that wyp you started 3 years ago?’ #yes yes i should but that’s not how the muse works apparently

[moonstruckme]

Lavender

I liked this better as an idea than I do now that it's written, but here it is anyway

summary: after Sirius has a hard day, you try to help him relax

Sirius Black x fem!reader ♡ 940 words

When you hear the front door to your shared apartment open and shut, your physical reaction is both immediate and habitual. You get a rush of dopamine and straighten in your seat, not quite looking up from your book but not able to tamp down the smile that tempts your lips upwards either. 

Sirius Black is a fairly spontaneous creature, but every day after he gets off work, it’s the same: he comes straight to your room, sighing in exaggerated exhaustion and relief, says something along the lines of “there you are, gorgeous” or “I missed you today, sweet thing” or “can’t I stick you in my pocket and keep you with me all day, angel?” and rains kisses upon every part of you he can get at. 

But now, ten seconds go by, and you’re still waiting for his usual melodramatic entrance. Twenty seconds. At thirty, you leave the bedroom to investigate.

The house is eerily quiet, and for a moment you wonder if you’d imagined the sound of the door, or if it might have come from one of your neighbors. Then you spot Sirius, lying on the couch with his shoes still on and his arm slung across his eyes. Your heart plummets. 

“Siri?” you say quietly, afraid to disturb him in case he doesn’t want company. “Are you okay?”

Sirius lets out a long breath, and this exhaustion isn’t for show. “Sorry,” he says, voice ragged. “I’m alright. Just had a really, really long day.” 

You crouch beside his face, feeling like you could cry but knowing that wouldn’t be very helpful. “Baby, I’m so sorry. Do you want to talk about it?”

He moves his arm so you can see the apology in his eyes. The gray irises are unusually dull.  “Not really,” Sirius says, imbuing his tone with as much gentleness as he can. His kindness, when he’s so obviously miserable, makes your chest ache. “Honestly, I just want to go shower and wash this day off me.”

That gives you an idea, and you smooth his hair away from his cheek, pressing a kiss there. “I’ll do you one better,” you promise, cheered at the opportunity to help restore your boyfriend to his usual jovial temperament. “Just give me a minute.” 

You go into the bathroom and turn on the tub, getting the water to a comfortable temperature before adding your lavender bath oils, hoping the scent will provide the same calm for Sirius as it does for you. And some bubbles, just because you know he’ll think they’re fun. After some more thought, you light a few candles, too. You want everything to be as conducive to relaxation as possible after the day he’s had. 

“Okay,” you call to Sirius. “You can come in.” 

You hear the padding of too-heavy footsteps, and then, “If you’re trying to seduce me, gorgeous, you really didn’t have to go to all this trouble.” 

You turn, feeling your face warm. Sirius grins at you, seeming to have recovered some of his good humor. “Right.” You roll your eyes, flustered, and Sirius switches gears. 

“This is for me?” he asks softly. “Thanks, angel.” 

You beam, because this is how you love him most; when he meets you all the way, unchecked in his softheartedness. 

Sirius isn’t one to be embarrassed and you’re well used to each other by now, so neither of you make a fuss as he strips down and eases into the warm water. You watch him relax slowly as his body adjusts to the temperature, admittedly feeling rather pleased with yourself. Rather than letting him lay his head back on the hard edge of the tub, you cradle it in your hands, ignoring the way his eyes raise to yours in question. 

You take your lavender-scented shampoo, beginning to lather it in Sirius’ thick, dark hair. 

He murmurs, “Are you washing my hair for me?” like it’s a joke, but you only hum in confirmation, and he goes silent after that. 

You take your time, letting your fingers work over every inch of Sirius’ scalp before moving to the nape of his neck. His muscles are taut there, but you knead at them tenderly until the tightness eases away and Sirius is pliant in your hands, finally letting the entire weight of his head rest on you. By now, most of the tension has melted from his features. 

He opens his eyes when you begin rinsing the shampoo from his hair with a cup of water, running your fingers through it to work out the few tangles. Neither of you seems to want to disturb the quiet, the tranquil atmosphere that’s settled in the humidity of your bathroom, and so Sirius’ voice is uncharacteristically hushed when he says, “You’re too good to me. How do you always know what I need?”

“Sixth sense,” you whisper back. “And you deserve every bit of good.” You say the words lightly, an admonishment against his self-deprecation, but you mean them. Deeply. Sirius has already experienced enough of the bad things in this world; if you could cast a spell to ensure that only happiness and comfort would find him for the rest of his life, you would. But until that becomes an option, you’ll do whatever you can to help him cope with his rougher days. 

Sirius smiles at your response, eyes pitch-black and sparkling in the candlelight. “Yeah? Think you could give me one of these massages every time I get off work?”

You smile at him, knowing your eyes are probably embarrassingly heart-shaped and not caring at all. “Every night, handsome.” You mean that, too.

#sirius black #sirius black x reader #sirius black x fem!reader #marauders #sirius black fanfiction #sirius black fic #sirius black drabble #sirius black oneshot #sirius black scenario #sirius black imagine #sirius black hurt/comfort #sirius black fluff

[super-who-locked-me-in-here]

Okay I need people to look at these two gifs together:

This gif made by @lousolversons

And this gif by @not-psychotic

THAT IS THE SAME SMILE. THAT IS HUGH DANCY'S ROMCOM SMILE AND I HAVE SO MANY FEELINGS ABOUT THE DIFFERENCES IN THE WAY HUGH PRESENTS IT FOR EACH MOMENT.

First of all, the moment presented in the first gif is why I believe Will did love Molly. Yes, I'm a firm believer that Will still held feelings for Hannibal while he was with Molly, but I don't think she was a placeholder. The way I think Will's love for Hannibal and Molly works at the same time is like when you meet a widower who remarried.

Yes the widower (Will) still loves his first spouse (Hannibal), and it's terrible that they were ripped apart the way they were, but he can eventually move on. And he loves his new spouse (Molly), but there will always be a part of his heart that belongs to his first spouse. Except in the case of this analogy Hannibal isn't actually dead and he will come back.

And I mean, honestly, if the love of your life died and came back completely in one piece and still loved you after years of separation, what would you do? Would you tell them to move on because you've found someone else that you love almost as much as you loved them? Or would you discard your new spouse for the one you had always imagined you'd stay with? It's a really difficult decision.

But anyway I do wanna analyze these smiles. Obviously in the second gif Will is smiling at Hannibal, but in the first gif, Will is smiling at Jack while talking about Molly. They're the same smile but they're also so different.

In the first gif, the "romcomness" of the smile almost feels exaggerated. It's the way he smiled and kind of laughed but especially it's the way he broke eye contact. He breaks eye contact but the smile stays. It says "Molly and I can't see each other completely, but I'm happy enough." It reads as coy in a way we know Will Graham is not. It's a performance, but it's a performance based on a truth.

On the other hand, in the second gif, Will's smile is there but more subdued. Of course it could be just that he's tired and/or in pain as he's obviously injured, but to me it's lesser because it's just him and Hannibal. He doesn't need to wear his mask for Jack or for Molly or for anyone else. And he keeps eye contact with Hannibal even as his smile falls away because he and Hannibal can see each other. They accept the good (the smile) and the bad (the loss of the smile) in each other but that's okay for them because they're true to each other like they are to no one else.

The way Will smiles at Hannibal in the second gif is so much more intimate than the way he smiled about Molly in the second gif, and I can't help but wonder: if we got more scenes where Will and Molly were interacting face to face (because let's be honest there's not many), would Will smile the same way he did in the second gif? Would he even smile at her the same way he does talking about her in the first gif, or is that just him trying to appear like the happy/satisfied husband in front of company? I know Will loved Hannibal, and I know Will loved Molly, but these two gifs side by side just confirm for me that what he felt for Hannibal was so much more impactful for Will than his love for Molly.

#god bless hugh dancy's acting abilities #also god bless molly foster for putting up with all of this nonsense #hannibal #hannibal analysis #hannibal meta #hannibal gifs #hugh dancy #hugh dancy's romcom smile #will graham #molly graham #hannibal lecter #hannibal season 3