#sorry this is an idea I’ve had for years

[ijustreallylovethem]

break up with him

i had this idea on my drive home earlier and i’m not entirely sure i like it but… it’s postable. let me know what you guys think!

luke hughes x reader

words: 2,401

masterlist

“hello?”

“hey, sorry it’s late but-“

“you know i’ll always answer your calls.” luke smiled at your reminder. very rarely had you ever missed one of his calls, because he knew your schedule almost better than his own. if he was calling during class or work, you knew it was serious. and any other time, well you would never pass up the opportunity to talk to your best friend.

“i know.”

“so what’s up? jack annoying you again and you need me to yell at him?” you honestly weren’t sure how the two had been able to live together for the past year with as much as they squabbled. in the two weeks since they had been back in michigan, you had already broken up more arguments than you could count.

“noooooo. why did i call you?” he asked the question more to himself, causing you to giggle.

“lukey, you been drinking?” you heard him scoff into the phone, as if that was a ludacris idea.

“me? drinking? absolutely not!” however, you only had to stay silent for a moment before he was telling the truth. “okay, maybe i’ve had a couple beers.”

“you know it’s a tuesday, right?” you teased.

“well, jacks the one that pulled them out of the fridge so you can take that up with him.” you rolled your eyes, picturing what luke was telling you exactly.

“anyway, you just miss me so much you had to call me? you just saw me a couple of hours ago.”

“i always miss you when you’re gone,” he said, maybe a bit to sincerely. your lips formed a pout, and you were about to open your mouth to speak but luke continued. “but no, i had a reason for calling you… what was it?”

“i don’t know, moose. i’m not in your mind.” you could hear jack yelling something faintly and luke gasped.

“oh! we were listening to music and it started playing that brad paisley song that you always refuse to listen to because it makes you cry.” jack spoke in the background again and then luke clicked his tongue. “right, two people fell in love.”

“and you called to tell me because… you want me to think about it and cry?”

“nooooooo. i called because it made me think about you and then i wanted to talk to you.”

“so you do miss me. that’s what i’m hearing.” you smile, loving how attached your best friend could be sometimes. you understood where he was coming from though. you had been attached at the hip since he moved to michigan and now you lived in two different states. now that he was back for the summer, you had been spending almost all of your time together catching up. the only reason you hadn’t stayed over there tonight was because of your boyfriend, peyton.

you and peyton had met in class at the beginning of the semester, but you had only been together for about four months. luckily, he understood how important luke was to you and had no problem with him. you had been worried at the beginning of your relationship that your friendship with luke would be seen as a problem, as you had heard many horror stories about boyfriends and guy best friends before. but the two had formally met the second day luke was back in michigan and seemed to have no problems with each other. since you had been spending so much time with luke, peyton had asked if you could both spend a night in together, and you were happy to grant his request.

“you know i’d be over there right now if i was allowed to be,” luke responded, as if it were obvious. you both knew it was though. you were always inseparable during the summer, and everyone only expected it to be worse this year since you had spent so long apart.

“don’t worry, i know.”

“speaking of which, where is he?”

“peyton? he went to go pickup food so we didn’t have to pay for delivery.” luke gasped dramatically, and you could practically picture the sarcastic hand he had brought up to his chest.

“you’re telling me he requested you all to himself and then left you?” you couldn’t help but giggle.

“he did, unfortunately. but he’ll be back soon.” luke hummed, but other than that, the line was silent for a few moments.

“hey y/n, can i ask you something?” his tone had turned serious, but you knew that didn’t automatically mean that his question would follow suit.

“always, lukey.” he didn’t ask right away, which had you believing whatever he was about to say was more serious than you originally thought. he took a deep breath and then rushed the words out.

“do you love him?” the question took you by surprise, and you weren’t sure how to answer.

“what?”

“because, you talk about him, you tell me things he does for you and such, but i feel like you don’t always sound… i don’t know, excited, i guess. like he’s there but you don’t truly care that he is.”

you’re stunned by his words. so stunned that you can only look down at your lap and pick at the little pills on your shorts. luke knows you well, and even though he can’t see you, he realizes you’re not going to answer.

“sorry, maybe i shouldn’t have asked. but i think the fact that you can’t tell me yes means that the answer is no.”

deep down, you know he’s right. you know that your relationship with peyton isn’t bad, but it isn’t amazing either. he’s a great guy, a good boyfriend, but something just wasn’t clicking for you. you had hoped that something would change as time went on, but you had heard of the three month rule and that time had come and gone. nothing.

“y/n?”

“he’s a good guy, luke.” you felt a tear run down your cheek and you were quick to wipe it away. “i hate that i don’t feel more toward him. he’s so amazing to me but-“

“but you don’t love him.” you shake your head, even though he can’t see you.

“no.” you reach up to wipe away another tear, taking a breath to steady yourself. “i don’t know why, but i don’t. no matter how much i probably should. which really sucks, because i don’t want to hurt him.”

“you’ll just hurt him worse by staying with him,”luke reasoned, and you knew he was right. you couldn’t lie to peyton about loving him and you couldn’t keep giving him false hope by hoping you somehow fell in love with him in the future.

“i know,” you whispered. you heard the door to your apartment open and close and you sighed silently. “i gotta go.”

“he’s back?”

“yeah, bye lukey.”

peyton looked at you concerned as he set the bag of take out on the coffee table in front of you. he slipped off his shoes and sat down, opening his arms to you.

“everything okay?” you just pulled your knees to your chest and wrapped your arms around yourself. peyton was quick to readjust when he realized you wouldn’t be moving closer to him. “what’s wrong?”

“um, i just… i finally am admitting some things that i didn’t want to admit for the past few weeks.” you closed your eyes and took a breath, trying to figure out how to break the news in the easiest way possible.

“you’re breaking up with me.” your eyes flew open, your jaw dropped slightly as well as you looked at him bewildered.

“how-“

“i really like you, y/n. which means i did my best to learn you. and it didn’t take me long to figure out that you like me too, but not as much. and not in the same way. but i don’t think i wanted to admit it to myself either.”

“peyton, i am so sorry-“

“don’t be sorry.” you had no clue how he was able to offer you a kind smile right now, but he was. he even reached out and gently rubbed your arm, trying to give you as much comfort as you would let him. “it’s not your fault you don’t love me. it’s okay.” the pout returned to your face as more tears welled up in your eyes.

“how are you being so sweet right now?” he pulled you into a hug now, rubbing his hand gently up and down your spine as he laughed slightly.

“to be honest with you, i’ve had about two weeks to let the information sink in.” you pulled away just enough to look up at him with glassy eyes.

“two weeks? why two weeks?” you began to wrack your brain. what had happened between the two of you two weeks ago?

“the day i met luke, and i saw the two of you together, i knew you’d never belong to me. i don’t think you’ve realized it yet, and i’m not sure if he has or not, but y/n, you can’t love me because you love him.”

his words hit you like a train. it was like you had been trying to put together a whole lego set without the base piece, and now that you had it, it was finally standing up straight and looking like it was supposed to. you were suddenly hearing what luke wasn’t saying on your phone call earlier, what he hadn’t been saying in all of your conversations for god knows how long. you were realizing why peyton felt like he was missing something even though he had been nothing but perfect to you.

“and now i think you’ve realized it,” peyton said quietly, a smile on his face.

“peyton… i am so sorry.”

“hey, don’t be sorry, remember? i want you to be happy, okay? and it sucks that that isn’t going to be with me. but i would never be selfish and keep you for myself when that’s clearly not what you want.”

you couldn’t help but surge forward, squeezing him tightly to thank him for the amount of clarity he had shown you. but just as quickly as you grabbed him, you let go and stood up.

“i need… i need to go. um, you can eat all the food and just, lock the door on your way out and-“

peyton stood and slipped on his shoes, shaking his head slightly as he laughed at you.

“need a ride?” your shoulders deflated as some of the stress left your body.

“yes please.”

“come on.” you grabbed your phone and slipped on the shoes by your door, following peyton out of the building to his car. from the moment that you buckled you were zoned out, biting at your nails as you tried to plan what to say.

how do you tell your best friend that you’re in love with him? what if he hadn’t realized he was in love with you too. what if he wasn’t in love with you? oh god what if peyton had gotten into your head and made you believe all of this as revenge for breaking up with him? no, he wouldn’t do that. would he?

it took you a moment to realize the car was parked in front of jack and quinn’s lake house. however, even after you realized, you stayed still.

“you gonna make me sit here all night?” peyton teased. you finally looked up at him, forcing a small smile through your worried state.

“thank you, peyton. for everything.” he gave a smile and a slight nod, then looked to the front door.

“go be happy.”

you were quick to unbuckle and climb out of the car, not sparing a glance behind you as you made your way up the sidewalk. you vaguely registered the sound of the car leaving and the way the night grew darker as the light from his headlights left, but your eyes stayed trained on the front door. usually you just walked right in, but that didn’t seem right for the moment. so instead you rang the doorbell.

you waited a moment, then realized the two boys probably wouldn’t be phased by someone ringing the bell. it wasn’t a common occurrence unless the person ringing it was a sales person or such. so you stepped forward and rang it again. it took a moment of waiting but finally the door opened to reveal your confused best friend.

“y/n? why did you… get in here.” but you stood in your spots taking a deep breath to steel yourself for what you were about to say.

“i don’t love peyton.” now luke looked even more confused.

“we had this conversation like half an hour ago. are you okay? come inside.”

“luke! i… i don’t love peyton because i love you.”

it was slow, the way his demeanor changed. but sure enough, his frown turned up into a smile and his eyes lit up as your words fully registered inside of his brain. his grip on the door handle fell and he ran his hand through his curls.

“god, i thought you’d never figure it out.” he was reaching for you then, cupping your cheeks in his palms and pressing his lips to yours. he kissed you like he’d never get enough, like he never wanted to let you go.

“god guys, get a room.” luke pulled away then, and you glanced around him to see jack standing there. his tone was disgusted but his expression was giddy. but before you could question it, he spoke again. “great timing though, i’m winning five grand on this. i gotta call trev.”

he walked away, and you looked up at luke, who was already smiling down at you. his eyes were bright and his cheeks were flushed, and his lips were just a little swollen. you were nearly sure you didn’t look much different.

“how about we go to my room and talk about this, yeah?” you nodded, considering the only thing you’d want more was for him to kiss you again. but seeing as you were still standing in the front doorway, maybe that could wait just a moment. well…

“kiss me one more time?” you asked, batting your lashes at him. his smile turned into a soft smirk for a moment before his lips were back on yours.

#luke hughes #luke hughes x reader #luke hughes fic #luke hughes imagine #Spotify

[cometkenji]

ghost in the machine

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Personal grudge.”

“How do you get their data so fast?”

“I know a guy” He knew a guy?

“So you have a partner?”

“I wouldn’t worry about it.”

“Why not?”

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

“It’s important to me.”

He chuckled at that. You needed to hang up.

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

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

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

No, it wasn’t. 

–

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re the best.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Two sons. “What about his brother?”

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

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

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

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

– 

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

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

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

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

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

“How would you know?”

“I’m not in cuffs, am I?”

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

“No.”

“Maybe they’re listening.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Answer the question.”

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

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

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

“What do you know about honor?”

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

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

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

“As opposed to what? Fitting with you?”

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

“Nightmares, maybe.” 

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

“You didn’t answer my question.” 

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

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

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

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

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

“This isn’t a game.”

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

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

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

–

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m Matthew.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

–

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

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

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

–

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

–

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

–

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

“Spencer?”

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

“Why didn’t you just tell me?”

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

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

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

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

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

“Did you really not know where I lived?”

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

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

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

“Spencer-”

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

“Can I think about it?

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

“What happens if I don’t go?”

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

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

#comet: SR #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds x reader #spencer reid #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #x chubby reader #x fat reader #x plus size reader #spencer reid x chubby reader #spencer reid x plus size reader #spencer reid x fat reader #spencer reid fanfiction #suggestive #probably ass #im sorry for this

[chaosandmarigolds]

Festival

based on this AMAZING ask!!

“Oi, Olls,” Simon looks down at the skinned arm and then back to the utterly unaffected five-year-old (who just took a rather nasty tumble off the slide). It was an easy back day at the county fair, which for the record he thought was a horrible idea with a five-month old yet Johnny said it would be fun for Oliver and his niece, Jane. Simon tried to get a good look at the wound, covered in dirt and pebbles, “Lad lemme-”

“Dad-dad, I got go- Janie! Wait up!” Oliver snipped in reply, pulling his arm away and trying to take off after his new friend, and he succeeded, taking off to the next ride wait line- where Jane was already standing among the groups of children and teens with the bright red balloon tied to her wrist. 

Of course, he watched the boy run through the crowds and only stood to direct his gaze to Johnny as he stood up, not saying anything but trying to see past the groups to get a good look at the kids- but he could see the red balloon. 

“Think the girls are havin fun?” Johnny asked, leaning onto the stroller. 

To that Simon shrugged looking down to Tess, who was thankfully very much asleep amidst the loud noises, “‘m sure they are.” 

“Shoppin, wine tasting annnn,” Johnny faltered as he thought, looking to the sky as Simon knelt down to fix the baby blanket. Though it was loud and the crowds were bustling it still had a sense of peace about it, small town, small fair but it was enough to make the two kids feel as if they were teleported to the best place on the planet. “An’- gah, Sarah said somethin else, can’t ‘member what though.” 

“Jus gettin dolled up or somethin,” Simon mumbled under his breath and then placed a chaste kiss against the baby’s forehead before standing up to his full height, looking around for the same bright red balloon. 

Only…the balloon was floating away. 

It took about five strides to get from where he had been to the line where Olly and Jane were supposed to be, yet there was a stunning lack of them both. 

He must have called the kid's names twice before Johnny had caught on to what was going on, yet the only thing Simon could think of doing was telling him to go get security, he asked the people if they had seen them- his voice harsh and causing the looks on the parent's face’s to pale. 

He couldn’t find them. 

No one seemed to even see them. 

“A little boy- he’s missin his front tooth, striped shirt with a dinosaur on it.”

   “I’m sorry man, that sounds like every kid I’ve seen today.” 

… 

“Jane,” Ollie said slowly following his friend reluctantly through the corridors of the ‘haunted house’ which they had snuck in through the back, since there was a thirteen-plus age restriction on the attraction, “Janie I reaaaalllly don’t think this is good idea.” 

To that the four-year-old frowns, her pigtails swinging as she looks at him, the blue light and fog doing nothing to ease his fears, “Uncle Johnny always say we got face fears! An you said you are scared of the scary ghosts.”

“Scary is literally in name, Janie!” Ollie countered crossing his arms, “Uncle Johnny and my dad are gonna be mad.” 

Jane shook her head, clawing up on the ladder to reach the main level, “Uncle Johnny doesn’t get mad at me, mum said it’s cus ‘m cute…Uncle Simon might get mad though.” 

Ollie frowned from his spot, looking up at her as she began to disappear from the view, he couldn’t leave her alone, he was older than her and his dad did ask him to look over her. So, he swallowed down his fear and followed behind her, the steam and fog making it a bit hard to see for a moment before he was able to stand up again- the lights dim and red and the floor underneath them seemed to be uneasy, red liquid smeared along the rotted wood and the low groan of something was enough to make him want to cry. 

However Janie was walking forward, so he quickly followed, moving to walk just a bit in front of her- grabbing her hand and doing his best to act brave when in reality he was not. 

Ollie stopped walking when they heard a voice from behind, and he turned to look around for a split second, only for Jane to let out a shrill scream and he turned his head to look ahead again- to only mimic her scream. Shoving her behind himself as what seemed to be a literal monster jumped from behind a barrel. 

“Oh SHIT! CUT IT!!” 

A voice suddenly yelled, and then the monster ripped off the mask, revealing a normal-looking kid, probably sixteen, “Whoa-hey-hey, you guys- JERRY FUCKIN CUT THE LIGHTS.” The kid screamed at the ceiling for a moment for the overhead lights to flicker back on and the noises stopped. 

“Hey,” The kid knelt down to look at the now sobbing children, “Hey, my name is Kyle. How’d ya-oh cmon…it’s okay, I’m not scary.” 

“You-you ghost!” Ollie screamed. 

“No! No, it’s just a costume, ya know on how on halloween you dress up? I’m jus dressing up, I’m not gonna-oh okay, you’re crying…again, okay…” Kyle tried to explain, then looking to his coworker, Margo who was dressed as a zombie, utterly hopeless about the now two screaming and sobbing toddlers.

…

“Called security,” Margo huffs out as she sits down to look at the toddlers, who were much more relaxed once they offered slushies, and she looks to Kyle, “They said two creepy guys said they lost their kids but thought they were lyin.” 

Kyle frowns and leans back in his chair after he and Margo had made a lazy attempt at cleaning off their makeup and explained to the kids it seemed to calm them down, plus the slushies of course. “Hey kiddo, can you tell me your name? So the nice people-

“My dad says to not talk to strangers.” 

Margo gives the kid a look and leans forward on the table, “He’s smart, that’s smart- but we need to-” 

“Margo-” 

“OLIVER.” 

It would be an understatement to say Kyle and Margo picked those kids up within a millisecond, because what they saw were two men that could break them both in half within a second and who did not look like father material walking towards them. 

“That’s my kid.” One of them barked out, pointing to the little boy, who was just happily sipping his slushy. 

Kyle scoffs, “And I’m the fucking king of England.”

To that Margo tried to then play damage control, “Listen, I don’t want to have to call sec-” 

“Uncle Johnny we saw scary ghost!!” The little girl exclaimed happily. 

“See? That’s my niece and the boys mine. Give me my kid.”

Margo and Kyle exchanged looks and then looked to the little boy, who only caught on when he saw the man’s look and he nodded eagerly, messy hair falling in front of his face. 

“That’s Ister Riley he and my mom are married. He’s my dad.”

… 

“I jus wanna be brave ‘ike you Uncle Johnny,” Jane said as they drove home, still sipping her oversized slushie. 

Johnny and Simon had agreed to not mention this, to act like it never happened, for their sake. “I know, princess, an’ yer so so brave.” 

“I no longer scared of ghosts.” Ollie said mindlessly, staring out the window. 

That caught Simon’s attention and he looked back through the rearview mirror, checking on Tess with a quick glance and then to Olliver, “Oi? Yeah?”

“Mmmhm, cause ghosts are jus nice people wearin costumes.”

(annnnyway that's it!! feedback and comments are the easiest way to let me know you liked my work!! thanks to everyone for their support!)

#simon riley imagine #simon riley fanfic #cod x you #simon riley x reader #cod fluff #simon ghost riley #simon ghost x reader #simon riley x you #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost x you #mw2 ghost #dad!simon riley #ghost call of duty #dad simon riley #dad!ghost #coco's chaos <3 #coco’s pre k universe! <3

[burntheedges]

Passing Notes: Cake

Joel Miller x gn!reader | 1.2k words | Passing Notes masterlist

summary: It’s May and you’re on the hunt for a cookie cake for your niece.

a/n: @trulybetty happy @swiftiscruff gift exchange! Listen — I have no idea where this came from, I was aiming for a meet-cute. Then I thought about how I had to get a cookie cake for a friend’s kid’s dance recital and I couldn’t find one anywhere – where did they go? are we out on cookie cakes, now? – and then this happened. (I did find one in the end but we didn’t even eat it.)

tags/warnings: flirting, cursing, pet names (beautiful, darlin’, handsome), food mention, reader walks and pushes a shopping cart but is otherwise not described

...

You turned the corner towards the bakery section, saying a quick prayer to whoever might be listening that you’d find the thing you needed without having to visit another grocery store. You needed a cookie cake for your niece’s elementary school graduation party – your sister had forgotten to order one, since there was already going to be an actual cake. But your niece and all of the other 11 year olds loved cookie cake, and so here you were, three hours before the party, on the hunt. 

You tried to take a deep breath as you pushed your cart past the bakery displays. If you didn’t find it here, you’d probably have to get something else. Could you make a cookie cake in three hours? How hard could it be? You hoped you wouldn’t have to find out. 

As you approached the last display before you reached the dairy case, you saw them – a display with only five cookie cakes left. You locked your eyes on them, quickly checking the selection for the one you needed. Your heart rate picked up when you saw it – there, at the far end of the row, one cookie cake with sprinkles and icing balloons decorating half of it. It was perfect. You started to smile as you reached for it – finally, you thought – but your hand never made it. You made contact with something else instead.

You found your fingers suddenly tangled with larger, tanned fingers that accidentally slotted between your own as you both reached for the same cookie cake. You startled and whipped your head to the right, accidentally curling your fingers around the stranger’s and, in your surprise, locking your hands together.

The man was looking at you, too. He had broad shoulders, dark curly hair, a scruffy beard, and soft brown eyes. You blinked. Shit, he’s hot. You felt his arm pressed up against your own and realized he was strong, too.

He cleared his throat and tugged on his fingers where they were tangled with your own. “Ah, sorry, darlin’. Didn’t mean to bump you.”

Darlin’. You blinked again.

“Oh! Er, sorry.” You realized you were still holding his fingers and released them suddenly. “I didn’t even see you, I was just trying to grab that cookie cake.” You reached forward again and stopped. 

You both had a hand on the plastic box of the cookie cake. You’d reached forward at the exact same time. You looked at your hands, holding onto opposite sides of the circular box, and then looked back at the (extremely handsome) man.

“Um,” you started, not sure what to say. “Sorry, I’m just getting a cookie cake for my niece.” You tugged the box a little bit towards you, hoping he’d give in.

He sighed and shook his head. “Sorry, darlin’, but I’m gettin’ one for my daughter.” He tugged lightly on the box, too.

“It’s for her graduation party,” you argued, tugging again.

“My daughter’s graduatin’ too,” he returned, tugging back.

“She’s obsessed with cookie cakes,” you tried.

“She said it’s not a real party if she doesn’t have one of these,” he replied, eyebrows raised.

“This one is perfect, though,” you complained.

“This is the third store I’ve been to today,” he said.

You stared at each other, unmoving. Against your will, you felt the corner of your mouth start to lift into a smile. This is ridiculous, you thought, a bit hysterical. The perfect cookie cake was within your grasp, and apparently you now had to face off with the most attractive man you’d ever seen in order to keep it.

As your smile grew you watched him start to smile back at you, eyes crinkling. 

“Well, darlin’, it seems that we are at an impasse.” He was outright grinning now, and you tried not to be dazzled by the effect of it.

“It seems we are, stranger.” You bit your lip and his eyes dropped to your mouth. “Any chance your daughter would be happy with one of these other cookie cakes? My niece gave me strict instructions to get one with balloons on it, because balloons are for parties.”

He laughed and nodded. “Same problem. Sarah requests one of these for every birthday and holiday, and she has strong opinions about the right kind of cookie cake, with just the right amount of icing.”

You snorted, charmed. “Well, shit. What are we going to do?”

Joel eyed you, still smiling. You realized your arms were still touching all the way from shoulder to wrist as you stood next to each other, hands on the cookie cake box. It probably looked absurd to any shoppers passing by but you didn’t want to move away. You leaned against him a little bit and his smile grew wider.

“Well, let me introduce myself, first. Joel Miller, darlin’. I am very pleased to meet you.” He nudged your shoulder with his own and winked. “Even if we are in a bit of a tussle, here.” 

You laughed and introduced yourself. “Pleased to meet you too, Joel. Even under the circumstances.”

He tilted his head and seemed to make some sort of decision. “I have a proposal for you.”

You raised an eyebrow at him. “I’d love to hear it.” 

Joel turned his body towards you as much as he could without moving his arm or releasing his grip on the box. “I’ll let you have this cookie cake if you’ll give me your number.”

Your eyebrows raised. You were surprised he’d give up that easily, even if you were interested. “Oh yeah? But what about Sarah?”

He shook his head, smiling. “I can get one of the other ones and bust out my cake decoratin’ skills. I did it last time, was just hopin’ not to get made fun of by my daughter for my wonky balloons again. But I’m happy to take the teasin’ if it means I might get to see you again, beautiful.”

You smiled at the line. “Well, Joel Miller, I do not have any cake decorating skills to speak of, and so I am desperate to buy this cookie cake. I’ll take your deal, as long as it doesn’t mean I’m depriving your daughter of the perfect icing-to-cookie ratio.”

He laughed and released his grip on the box. You slid it towards you on the shelf. “If you ask me, she likes way too much icing,” he said. “Not a lot of cookie under there.” Joel seemed to hesitate for a moment, and then said, “you know, you don’t have to give me your number, if you’re not interested – don’t give it to me just because you need this cookie cake.”

You tucked the box safely in your cart, and then turned back to Joel and grinned. “Let me say that again. I’ll take your deal, as long as it doesn’t mean I’m depriving your daughter of the perfect amount of icing, and because I think I’d like to see you again too, handsome.”

He grinned back at you and leaned against the display table, arms crossed. “Well, darlin’, that’s the best news I’ve heard all day.”

You nodded, agreeing. You had a good feeling about this one.

...

a/n: this is sort of what I was picturing for the cookie cake, only the ones they sell without the message so you can pipe it in yourself. And more balloons. 🤷🏻‍♀️ please consider this a thank you for sequins which I love with my whole heart

#PPCUGiftExchange2024 #joel miller x reader #joel miller x gn!reader #joel miller x you #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fic #tlou fic #x reader #bte friendship exchange

[goldenseresinretriever]

False Confidence: Chapter 3

Pairing: Javy “Coyote” Machado x Reader

Part of the San Diego Dogfighters universe

Summary: The Athletic named Javy Machado the fifth sluttiest player in the NHL last year. He’s a known playboy who leaves every game with a different girl. As far as he’s concerned he’s living the dream, playing his dream job with the dream lifestyle. Unfortunately his friends and bosses don’t agree. At 33, they think it’s time for him to settle down. You’re a kindergarten teacher at an esteemed private school. You don't expect much when you finally accept your colleague’s invitation to attend her husband’s hockey game but when you accidentally get separated in the post-game rush, you find yourself in a compromising situation with the last person you’d ever expected to meet. When his PR rep suggests a mutually beneficial agreement, your hands are tied. How long will you have to keep up the act? And how long will you be able to?

Series CW: 18+ ONLY, swearing, angst, fluff, fake relationship, suggestive language, school system inaccuracies, hockey inaccuracies etc. There will be individual chapter warnings. No use of Y/N.

Word Count: 3.6k

A/N: Welcome back, y’all! Sorry it’s been so long, I’ve been busy 😭

Previous Chapter // Series Masterlist // Next Chapter

You feel the butterflies that have finally settled in your stomach flutter to life again, a jumbled mess as your breath catches. You know it makes sense. His simple request. You’re the one who said you were out of practice. And he’s right, the media caught you with his tongue down your throat. They’re not going to be fooled by chaste kisses on the cheek and pecks on the lips. You need to get comfortable around Javy, and while you hadn’t come here with the intention of kissing him tonight, the sooner you rip off the bandaid, the better. “Okay,” you say and you hate how small your voice sounds. Javy gives you a mysterious smile as he leans in. Your heart beats quicker the closer he gets, and your eyes flick down to those full lips of his and you’re so fixated on them that you don’t realize that he’s stopped. When you realize that his lips haven’t moved in quite a while your eyes flick up to his deep brown ones and your cheeks heat at the intensity of his gaze. “What?” You sputter as you do your best not to pull away from his closeness. Your hands are trembling and you can feel discomfort settling in your bones. He leans in closer suddenly, lips barely a breath from yours and his nose brushes yours and you let out an indignant squeak, jumping slightly.

“Relax, Meep.” His voice takes on a lower timbre and you feel a shiver run down your back.

“Meep?” You squeak and he chuckles. You feel the vibration of the air on your lips. He reaches a hand up then, making sure to hold it in front of your gaze for a solid five seconds so you process it before he runs a knuckle across your cheek.

���My overexcited little roadrunner,” he muses. “Always squeaking.” Your brow furrows as you realize what he’s referring to.

“You’d be squeaking if you were surprised too.” You stutter out, irritation seeping into your tone even as anxiety continues to claw at your heart from his closeness.

“Oh, would I?” He asks, quirking an eyebrow playfully and then just as you’re choosing your next words carefully, he closes the gap and presses his lips to yours.

The first time you’d ever been kissed you were in the bed of Andrew St. James’s truck. You’d felt completely alone even with dozens of cars and trucks parked around you. The movie playing up on the giant screen was background noise as Andrew’s lips pressed against yours. Your lips were slightly parted in surprised pleasure. It had all felt so surreal, being curled against him as you experienced a first that you’d awaited giddily your entire life. Even your wildest dreams you’d never imagined that it could be like this. Even when Andrew had invited you to the movie, butterflies fluttered in your stomach at the idea. Even when you’d nervously picked out the soft yellow sundress that you knew you’d get chilly in with the cool spring evening air, dancing through your bedroom full of whimsy and hope.

Javy tastes like blueberries. The tart taste of the berries scattered through the loaf that the two of you had just indulged in making your lips tingle as he eased you into the kiss. This kiss was different from yesterday. While yesterday’s kiss had been hungry and desperate, this one was soft, delicate, and simple. A press of lips against lips and you can almost smell the rust and grass from your first kiss. It’s sweet, and you almost convince yourself that it’s real but the tart taste keeps you grounded in bittersweet reality. When he pulls away, he studies your face curiously and you struggle not to squirm under the intensity of his gaze. He leans in before you can react and kisses you again. You start, surprised and he’s pulling away before you can adjust to the feeling. You scowl at him and he chuckles.

“What was that for?”

“You need to not tense up so much when I kiss you. Right now you’re practically jumping out of your skin, Meep.” You feel your lips pout even as you know that he’s right but you can’t focus on that when he dips his head to kiss the pout on your lips. You’re expecting this time and you barely tense under the quick touch. “Good girl,” Javy praises you as he pulls away again, pressing a quick peck to your cheek and you jolt, surprised by the change in direction. He gives you a look of faux disappointment. “Come on Roadie, loosen up for me.” You feel your cheeks heating rapidly under his constant attention and the anticipation of the next kiss. You’re not expecting when he reaches a hand up and cups your cheek and then your cheeks are heating even more in embarrassment at the realization that he can probably feel their heat. He stokes the apple of your cheek with a calloused thumb and you shiver involuntarily. “I told you Roadie, I’m not gonna hurt you, sweetheart.”

“Prove it.” You’re as surprised as he is by the bite in your words, but the proximity and flurry of kisses have your brain in a tizzy. You’re overstimulated and exhausted and you don’t have the energy for Javy’s antics right now. His eyes widen before he sits back, his hand falling away from your face and you take a shaky breath as your heart rate tries its best to settle. His expression is unreadable as he nods.

“You’re right.” His gaze is steely as it meets yours. “I will.” Like it’s that simple. You’re too tired to push him so you just nod back.

“We need rules,” you hate how tired your voice sounds and you reach for your glass of water, sipping and hoping the cool liquid will give you the energy that you need. “If this is going to work, we need to be on the same page about what’s okay and what’s not.” Javy nods again, eyes calm and earnest.

“That’s good with me, what did you have in mind?” He asks and you fiddle with the hem of your shirt as you think.

“No sex.” You say after a moment, words form so he knows you’re serious.

“No sex, got it, Roadie.” You nod absently as you think harder.

“I need at least a week’s notice if you need me to come to an event, whether that’s a game or something else. That and my job will always come first. I’m not missing school for this, I’m not leaving my kids out to dry.” He nods again.

“That’s only fair. I’ll talk to Zam and work out a schedule of some kind and get that to you as soon as possible.

“Next, if I’m going to be coming to your events, I need you to come to some of mine.” You’re nervous about asking this but Josie’s voice in your head reminds you that this is supposed to be mutually beneficial.

“It’s only fair,” he says casually. “As long as I’m in town, I’ll be there. You can get me a schedule too, but just give me a basic idea now if you can.”

You think for a long moment before you answer. “You need to make a few appearances at the school to really sell it to the administration. There’s a faculty banquet in April. If you’re here, you’d probably be expected to attend.”

“Consider it done.” He says easily. Something else is itching at the back of your mind so you steel yourself and ask before you lose your nerve.

“Career day,” you sputter and Javy arches an eyebrow at you and you clear your throat. “It’s not a requirement per se but I think the kids would really enjoy meeting a real hockey player.” His eyes soften and you give him a shy smile.

“Yeah, Roadie, I’d love to come to Career Day.” He smiles back as you relax in relief. He waits for you to continue but you’re drawing a blank as to what comes next so he speaks up. “You need to figure out how to relax around me. If there’s something I can do to help, I will, but it’s going to come down to you.” You nod, embarrassment sending heat to your cheeks.

“I know it’s not always going to be possible, but if you could ask or give me a heads up when you’re going to kiss me, that might help?” You say after a long moment. He considers your words thoughtfully.

“What if we had a signal?” He asks and your brow furrows.

“What kind of signal?” You ask warily. He reaches out a hand for yours and you tentatively surrender one. He takes it in his absurdly warm palm, and then he brushes two fingers over the inside of your wrist before tapping three times.

“How’s that?” He asks. You glance down at your linked hands. It’s subtle enough. It could work. You nod, slowly and Javy smiles.

“Yeah, that could work.” You whisper and he releases your hand. You study your hand when it comes back to your lap like you’ll see some kind of mark of his touch. Like a piece of him will linger.

“One last thing,” he says and you look up from your lap and he waggles his eyebrows playfully. “You’re not allowed to fall in love with me.” You barely suppress a derisive snort as you scowl at him. It just makes him laugh and the sound takes your breath away. If his smile is the sun, his laugh is its rays. You feel your nerves melt away as the sound fills your ears and spreads warmth throughout your body from head to toe. He pauses his laughing to fix you with a firm look even as his eyes dance with mirth. “I mean it, Roadie, no falling in love with me.” You roll your eyes.

“You don’t have to worry about that.” You won’t be the fool twice. You know better this time.

***

The next morning as you’re walking into school when your phone buzzes and you open it to see a message from Big Sexy ;), “I know you’ll probably be teaching so you can’t watch, but just so you know, the press conference is at 8 this morning. Speak now or forever hold your peace.” He’s giving you an out. While you appreciate it, you didn’t let him kiss you in his kitchen to lose your nerve now and you type back a quick negative response before steeling yourself and making a beeline for your classroom. You don’t feel like fielding Jeremy’s questions before the press conference. You’ll let someone else control the narrative. You’ve settled in and you’re going over your lesson plan when Josie knocks on the edge of your doorway and you look up, waving her in. She perches on the edge of her desk, studying your expression carefully.

“Reuben said they're holding the press conference this morning. How are you feeling?” You shrug.

“He’s not my real boyfriend. I don’t really feel anything.” Josie gives you a skeptical look.

“You know Jeremy and the others are going to start hounding you the second they find out, don’t you?” You sigh, then, taking a moment to take a long sip from your coffee mug.

“If they hound me that means they buy the story and that’s what we want, right? Sure, I’m not exactly looking forward to it, but there’s not much you can do to disprove an official statement from one of the parties, especially the one with everything to lose.” Josie regards you skeptically and you know she doesn’t buy your cool as she leaves the classroom and while you’re more nervous than ever you can’t focus on that right now. Any minute your students will be arriving and you need to be ready for them. They need you right now.

***

By the time lunch rolls around you’ve forgotten all about the press conference so when you step into the teacher’s lounge and Jeremy automatically calls out to you, you’re taken by surprise.

“Damn Roadie, you’re just full of surprises aren’t you?” You turn to see a smirk pulling at his lips as he regards you. “How on earth did you manage to land yourself a big bad NHL player boyfriend?” You ignore the subtle dig in his words as you struggle to clear your mind. You’d gone over your cover story with Javy last night until you were almost convinced it was true yourself. You take a breath to center yourself before you answer Jeremy.

“We met at Thanksgiving, I went with Josie to the Dogfighters’ Thanksgiving dinner.”

“That right, Josie?” You turn to see Josie standing just inside the doorway, a cool look on her face.

“Yeah, friends and family were invited so I invited Roadie since she didn’t have anywhere else to go.” You wince at her words. That part of the story is true. Josie had invited you except you’d turned her down and had spent the holiday curled up on your couch watching old movies and eating spaghetti and turkey meatballs followed by ice cream straight from the carton. In hindsight, you’re glad you hadn’t gone since Josie had arrived back at school on Monday recounting the chaos that had ensued at the event. None of your colleagues knew that, however. “Oh hey, this is a pleasant surprise.” You’re jerked out of your thoughts and you turn back to Josie as Javy appears in the doorway, carrying a bouquet of flowers and a takeout bag. You do your best to school your expression of surprise at the unexpected visit. You’re sure some of it seems believable enough, though as you unglue your feet from the floor and cross over to where Josie’s ushering Javy into the teacher’s lounge as the other teachers gape. You shuffle over to him, a nervous smile plastered on your face. You will your voice not to shake as you greet him.

“Javy! I didn’t know you were coming by today?” You hide your wince at the light accusation in your tone and try to compensate by carefully pushing up slightly on your toes to press a kiss to his cheek. The gesture feels strange and his skin is warm under your lips. The skin pulls under your touch as Javy smiles and when you pull away you see the mirth dancing in his eyes as leans down to reciprocate the action, smooth lips pressing to your heated cheeks.

“Hey beautiful, thought I’d come by and surprise you.” You try to ignore the way your stomach flutters at the term of endearment as it falls easily from his tongue. “I thought we could have lunch together?” He holds up the paper bag in his hand and you nod, trying to make your earnestness to escape the prying eyes of your colleagues seem lovestruck in nature.

“Sure, baby.” The word feels strange and foreign in your tongue and you have to hold back from grimacing in discomfort. “We can eat in my classroom,” you nod towards the hallway and Javy takes your lead. Once you’re in the empty hallway, the kids all herded into the lunchroom for the next hour, you glance at him to see him grinning at you. You roll your eyes and lead him to your classroom. You hold the door for him as he enters before leading him to your desk. You realize quickly that yours is the only adult-sized chair in the room but Javy seems unfazed as he sets the flowers and bag on your desk and snags one of the tiny chairs from the nearest cluster of desks. You don’t manage to stifle your giggle as he folds his giant body into the tiny chair and his eyebrows raise, the corners of his mouth crinkling at your reaction. You feel your cheeks heat as you take your seat across the desk from him. He’s tall enough that he manages to reach the height of your desk well enough and he starts to unpack the paper bag, the smell of Thai food hitting your nostrils.

“So…” he says as he passes you a foil-wrapped packet that smells simply heavenly, “how’s your morning been, baby?” He smirks and your cheeks heat even more as you duck your head to escape the humor dancing in his eyes.

“I panicked, okay.” You sputter as you focus on keeping the noodles in the foil from spilling across your desk as you break the chopsticks that Javy passes to you. He chuckles.

“Well practice makes perfect, I guess.” He digs into his food and the two of you eat in silence for a moment before you can’t hold your question in, anymore.

“What are you doing here?” You ask and hate how blunt it sounds.

Javy raises an eyebrow at you as he finishes chewing. “I figured after this morning’s announcement, there would be damage control to do, so I figured I’d get ahead of it. What better way to sell a fake relationship than to bring my girlfriend lunch?” He shrugs. “Plus I figured you could use the backup. People are bound to have questions and actions speak louder than words.” You nod, taking another bite of your food.

“Well, thanks,” you say, trying to fight off the awkwardness as he waves you off.

“This is much better than eating in the conference room with dozens of sweaty guys, believe me.” He looks around your room, taking in the bright decorations and your students’ art hung on the wall. “So, do you teach art too?” He asks.

You shrug. “It’s kindergarten, I teach everything.”

“Damn, Roadie,” Javy looks genuinely impressed. “Even math?”

“I mean, math for Kindergartners usually just consists of counting, shapes, and basic addition and subtraction but yeah,” you giggle a little as he laughs.

“Right, I almost forgot. But that’s still important, though, they need that to be able to do the rest.” He says, giving you a pointed look and you smile shyly.

“That’s why I love it so much,” you admit. “You get to make such a big impact on these kids’ lives.”

“It’s a big responsibility,” he points out.

“It’s a privilege.” You say, a soft smile on your lips and he gives you a look that you can almost convince yourself is pride.

The two of you fall back into silence as you eat until Javy speaks up again. “Do you still make octopus stew in kindergarten?” You can’t help the laugh that jumps out of your throat. Javy regards you curiously as you nod through your laughter.

“Yeah… yeah we still make octopus stew. We’re actually doing that next week.” His eyes brighten and you hesitate before you offer. “You could come if you wanted to? I mean just for the octopus stew part? We usually ask a couple of parents to come help out since there’s cooking involved, we could use the extra hands.” You can’t help the nerves that blossom in your stomach but Javy’s wide grin makes them worth it.

“I’d love to,” he beams before his brow furrows. “What day is it? We’re leaving on a road trip next Wednesday.” His face falls slightly and you can’t help the pang of sympathy that laces through you. You’ve seen it on Reuben’s face before. The realization that his job is stealing yet another special moment from him. He’s missed class plays, dance recitals, and more and it doesn’t get easier.

“Octopus Stew is on Tuesday,” you say with a soft smile, mentally running through the emails you’re going to need to send to the parents volunteering to successfully move around your lesson plans. The grin on Javy’s face is like the sun and you can’t help but feel relief, knowing that your slightly selfish plan is going to be worth it.

“Perfect, I’ll be there!” He announces and you can’t help the smile that his excitement brings to your lips. “By the way, are you doing anything after work today? The rest of the guys really want to meet you, and I thought maybe you could swing by the arena?” You hesitate and his gaze softens. “They’re not all assholes, I promise, you just got stuck with me.” You feel your cheeks heat at that.

“S-sure I can be there,” you murmur and he reaches a hand over, brushing your fingers with his. Somehow you don’t flinch away from his touch. “I’ll be there.” You say with more conviction and he squeezes your fingers gently.

You hear the bell go off in the hallway and glance at the clock, surprised. The moment is broken and you hurry to clear up your lunch trash. Javy stands, taking your lead, and carefully returns his chair to its desk. He holds out a hand to take the lunch trash and you pass it to him, appreciatively. Your eyes fall on the flowers, they’re a simple but bright bouquet of seasonals. “Thanks for the flowers, by the way,” you say and Javy turns to look at them from where he’s almost at the doorway.

“Oh, you don’t have to thank me. You’re my girlfriend, after all, flowers are a given. Do you have a vase?” He glances around the room, looking for one. You shake your head.

“Not here, no. I have some at home but I’ll probably get something plastic for the classroom in case of accidents.” Javy nods, his eyes thoughtful.

“Noted, I’ll bring a vase next time. I’ll see you this evening, Roadie.” He’s gone before you can comprehend his words and a soft smile graces your lips as you gather your lesson plans for the afternoon before heading down the empty hallway to pick up your students from the lunchroom, Javy long gone.

A/N: Sooo Day 1 of the ruse is going well so far! How do we think the rest of the guys are going to react to Roadie?

#false confidence // sdd #fc // sdd #san diego dogfighters au #san diego dogfighters #san diego dogfighters hockey au #top gun maverick hockey au #top gun #top gun maverick #tgm #javy coyote machado x reader #javy coyote machado x you #javy machado x you #javy machado x reader #javy coyote machado #javy machado #coyote x you #coyote x reader #no use of y/n

[dreamwatch]

I tell you folks, it's harder than it looks

Written for the @corrodedcoffinfest April warm-up round.

Prompt: Taxed | Word Count: 996 | Rating: T | CW: Language, description of injury, hospitals | POV: Steve | Pairing: Steddie | Tags: Exhaustion, Eddie Munson needs a hug, arguments, but it all works out, workaholic Eddie Munson

(So... I forgot to get something written before today, so this is a bit of a speed write and I hope I got as many typos and redundancies as possible. For anyone interested, the idea came from another fic I wrote a while ago, where you can see Wayne's POV.)

****

Kangaroos. That was the reason Steve had picked Australia to join the tour. Eddie called from every continent, trying to tempt him with far-flung locations, but in the end it was the kangaroos that got him. And thank god, because if he’d got the call that Eddie had collapsed on stage, or worse, saw it on the news, he’d be losing his mind right about now. So yeah, thank fuck for kangaroos. 

They’re holed up in a hospital in Sydney, trying to keep the press away from Eddie. Jeff and Ben hover near Eddie’s bed, Gareth standing as close to the door as he can, arms crossed and eyes firmly fixed on the floor. The atmosphere is uncomfortably tense.

“I’m sorry.”

“Oh, that’s okay then. I mean, as long as you’re sorry—”

“Gareth,” Jeff interrupts. Always the peacemaker.

“Don’t ‘Gareth’ me, man. I’ve been saying for months, for fucking years, we need to slow down before one of us gets hurt. And here we are. But hey, I’m just the drummer, no one fucking listens to me. Or any of us for that matter. Just him.” He gesticulates at Eddie. 

Steve feels like an interloper and it’s a little uncomfortable; he’s got no desire to be the Yoko Ono in this situation but he’s not leaving until Eddie tells him to. His eyes drift back to Eddie who’s staring out into the Sydney skyline. The fierce bruise on the left side of his face has come out in anger now, gauze and tape covering stitches. It makes his heart fucking ache.

Steve had been there at the edge of the stage watching the show when Eddie wobbled and went loose-limbed, watched him just drop, the sickening snap back of his head as he hit the drum riser. Ben had got to him first, Jeff signalling for help, while Gareth stood behind the drums, frozen. He had looked terrified. Steve stood there watching helplessly, heart in his throat the whole time. 

Eddie’s eyes go wide with panic. “Shit. Wayne.”

“Taken care of,” Steve tells him. “Called him a few hours ago. He’s fine. Getting your room ready as we speak.”

“Press too,” Jeff chips in. “You don’t need to worry about anything, it’s all taken care of man.”

“Shouldn’t need to be,” mutters Gareth.

Jeff sighs, “Jesus Christ, man, will you quit it?” 

Gareth finally looks up, first at Jeff, and finally at Eddie. But there’s no anger there. Steve can see the worry in his eyes and he gets it. He’s spent years of his life worrying about bad things happening to his friends and being powerless to do anything about it. It fucking sucks. 

Ben puts his arm around Gareth, leading him outside. “Let’s go rustle up snacks, dude, I’m fucking starving.” 

Eddie picks at the edge of the tape holding the IV in the back of his hand. “Well, that went well.”��

“Hey,” says Jeff, shaking Eddie’s ankle to get his attention. “He’s not angry, okay? He’s just scared. We all were, but… you know what he’s like. He’s our sensitive little flower.”

A little ghost of a smile settles on Eddie’s lips and it unlocks something in Steve, eases the worry just a tiny bit. 

“Yeah, I know. I am sorry, you know? I didn’t want this to happen, man. I just… I just thought it was the right thing to do for us. The tour. All of it.”

Jeff sighs. “Listen, when we get back, a few things need to change. Firstly, we’re taking a fucking break. A long one. We’re all burned out.”

Eddie nods softly. “Of course.”

“And we are never doing a tour this long again. Non-negotiable. Strict date limits going forward.”

“Absolutely.”

“And one last thing.” Jeff shifts uncomfortably. “He didn’t say it the right way but… Gareth wasn’t wrong. About no one listening to us. To Phil, specifically, not listening to us.”

Steve knows Eddie has a near-pathological fear of losing everything, but he’s since learned that their manager, Phil, has preyed upon it, tapping into the fear, pushing for more albums, more interviews and appearances, and longer tours. And Eddie just can’t say no. “You never know when it will stop,” he told him once. 

Steve would love to get his fucking hands on Phil right about now. 

“He’s got to go.”

And Eddie agrees, just like that, because it’s Jeff. To the public, it’s Eddie’s band, but to everyone who truly knows them, it’s Jeff who keeps them together. It makes Steve smile to think about the nerdy kid from high school, comparing him to this man who stands at Eddie’s side in front of thousands, night after night, confidence oozing from him.

The door clicks open, and Ben wanders in with a Coke, Gareth slinking in behind him. Gareth shuffles forward and Eddie reaches up with his free hand, and Steve finds himself letting out a huge breath when Gareth takes it. 

“You scared the shit out of me,” Gareth says, softly.

“I know. I know man. I was an idiot.”

“Yeah.”

Steve is expecting a snappy comeback, but Eddie’s starting to wilt, and he’s struggling to keep his eyes open.

“I think we should let Eddie get some rest,” he says. “Long flight tomorrow.”

The boys say their goodbyes, and Steve pulls his chair as close to the side of the bed as he can manage. Eddie smiles at him, their fingers entwined.

“Close enough there?” Eddie says, smiling fondly.

“No,” he replies, smiling back. He never wants to let Eddie out of his sight again. “How you doing?”

Eddie drops his head back onto his pillow. “I feel like shit.”

“Maybe I’ll need to move to LA to keep an eye on you.”

A soft blush blooms across Eddie’s cheeks. “Maybe you do,” he says shyly.

“Go to sleep then. I’ll be here when you wake up.”

As Eddie drifts off, Steve thinks about how to tell Robin he’s moving to LA.

#corrodedcoffinfest #eddie munson #steve harrington #corroded coffin #ccf warmup: Taxed #steddie fanfiction #corroded coffin fanfiction

[xandertheundead]

How would you feel about a high school au with The Three Caballeros in it?

Sorry this took so long to answer! I had a work deadline that consumed me for a bit!

So, I already have way too many ideas about their college years so I never really gave a HS AU much thought. I think HS AU, if I was to ever write one, would have to be less about the actual going on in school and more about adventures they would go on mainly because it has been a long time since I’ve been in HS and there are so many things that have changed that I wouldn’t even know where to start 😂

I think Panchito and José would have to be exchange students because I can’t hand wave how a Mexican and Brazilian are somehow in a US high school. Also you can take the birds out of their countries but you can’t take the countries out of them so I can’t just go “Oh well! They just American!” So I would make them exchange students and since the Duck family is Aces about communicating and taking care of their own kids there could be hijinks or confusion where Hortense signs up to be a host family but at Scrooges residence because that’s where Della and Donald stay a lot of the time even during the school year. Since the manor is so large, it can house not only one exchange student, but TWO!

That’s how you would get the teenage crew of Della, Donald, José & Panchito under one roof.

And of course among death defying and amazing adventures around the world, you would have the teen birds learn their way around each other. Of course with all of that comes with feelings and confusion because they are just learning who they are. Becoming friends, having crushes, squabbling, sharing a love of music and just trying to figure out how to pass Algebra II.

Scrooge will probably want to kill either all of them or himself at least nine times a week and give his sister weekly rage calls about how if she wants extra kids she can come over here and take care of her own kids first.

#asks #panchito pistoles #josé carioca #donald duck #della duck #scrooge mcduck #uncle scrooge #the three caballeros #three caballeros #three gay caballeros #ducktales #ducktales 2017 #high school au #anon ask

[sukunasdirtylaugh]

Addicted to the idea of an ex!convict geto who is on the run. You married him young at the fresh age of 19 in Vegas, only for him to ‘abandon’ your marriage never to be seen again. Nearly 4 years have passed and you’re now a moderately prestigious singer at mafia!gojo’s club, the blue dragon.

audiences stack up on weekends until Satoru introduces you to an associate of his called Kento. He’s tall, handsome, and mature in ways you didn’t know you wanted or needed. After a few visits to the club, he asks you out for dinner. A relationship instantly clicked with the businessman that suddenly everyone knew you were his. Until a mysterious letter appears on your doorstep one day. Attached is a familiar pink ribbon and all black lighter.

“My men wouldn’t do that,” your now boyfriend shakes his head. “No one knows about him but me.”

“Ken, you’re the only one to know about him. No one knows about him except you and Satoru. So please, if this is a prank, tell me.”

“I’m quite offended you think I would casually play with the emotions of the woman I have invested all my time in.” He says, “I’ll go talk to Satoru if he knows anything, but it’s for the best if you cancel tonight’s show.” You pull away from the protective hold he has on your waist and hiss. “I won’t cancel a show. Tonight’s the premiere, a lot of Satoru’s clients have invested thousands in tonight’s event.”

“Cancel it,” your blond partner whispers, “I’ll pay the difference, stay the night at my-“ but your agitated nature makes you turn him down.

“I said no! I’ll continue the show, and you can’t say anything about it. It’s my career, kento. And you can’t decide when to sing for me.”

He should have known it had to do with your hyper independence, your need to still depend on your own income after depending on what Nanami considered a reaction of yours after your relationship with a cowardly no good for nothing scum bag who left his wife.

After his disappearance, search warrants for him went on the national level until his presence was declared inconclusive 3 weeks later. Months later, it was rumored he was found dead.

But no body was found.

Now in tonight’s stage, everyone is dressed in the 9’s, with kento leaning against a wall with crossed arms, looking over the audience as you sing prettily. That is until you see a dark figure, long black hair with a familiar silver wedding band on his fourth finger. What sets him apart is the drink on the table.

Suguru.

(wrote this part one and this part two as a result^)

#I’m sleep deprived I should delete this but I’ve had this idea for over a year I need to post about this in order to shut up #so suguru didn’t die but he’s back #and his now ex wife is with a protective kento #it’s so messy I’m sorry but someone please understand the concept of mf #it #***IT #jeez #okay that’s it thank you for coming to my Ted talk #gojo #geto #Nanami #kento #Nanami kento #geto suguru #gojo satoru #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #mafia Nanami #mafia kento

[saturnaous]

I think. Alphonse has a lot of dealings with disassociation and being in a body without nerves.

#fullmetal alchemist brotherhood #fma brotherhood #fmab #fullmetal alchemist #fma #alphonse elric #spenxer lou art #lou is an artist #sigh. this took three days despite the quality of it. I’ve honestly debated about posting it. #I’m not really great with comics but I’d like to get better so I’m pushing through it #grr. you can tell I desperately need to do a new hand study + actually use reference. but I don’t think they look. TOO terrible #all things considered. I had to change up one of the fingers in the third panel last minute so it looks. wonky. but whatever. #grr. . . I need to figure out new ways to lineart and render that like. . .look better #this is soo shoddy and thrown together for how much time is in it. grrr #moving on from my places to improve. I think Alphonse was heavily disassociated when he got bonded from both a lot of that trauma and #not being able to feel things properly as a big suit of armor but he’s gotten better over the years #And it’s another reason he got so shaken up by the idea of not being real. because he already doesn’t feel real so what if he truly isn’t? #anyways. sorry for all the tags. kiss kiss

[cadaverousdecay]

i’m so overwhelmed by things that shouldn’t be overwhelming...

#among them‚ i’ve fallen behind on drscula dauly for the first time this year and it’s stressing me out cuz i really really wanted to keep up #this year that was the one goal i had for the year is keep up with it. last year i fell way behind when my brother died and it was so hard #catching up and the entry on the 30th was a little longer than they’ve been recently and i’ve been busy and also slipping back into depressi #on real bad and i’m just not in the mood for it and i feel like it’s just gonna snowball #and this is such a non issue. it’s a book. that i’ve read before. but still it’s just stressing me out. among other things #like library books that are overdue and i haven’t finished or journal entries i want to write or a letter i’ve been wanting so badly to writ #e and a short story idea that i wanted to write down but is escaping me and fucking. tumblr notifications #these are non issues!!! but it feels like there’s a timer for the world to end again all the same. #ugh #and i should be able to focus on one thing and get it done! these things shouldn’t be hard! they’re even meant to be enjoyable! but i can’t #get myself to do anything lately #and on top of all that i’m not able to fall asleep even with my sleep meds. #what even ever‚‚‚ #anyway sorry for the rant i’m basically fine

[novelconcepts]

The fucking choking noise I made when I tuned into a podcast for my run and heard a recent favorite actor go, “I’m still on Tumblr, don’t tell anyone.”

#me frantically looking at the date: #‘right this was 2021. what are the odds they still are? I mean. 14 years for MY gay ass. so. soooo.’ #'do you look at your own tags? at your character? at your ship? SURELY Not. but i would. so could i even blame you? welcome? sorry? help.' #I’m honestly so much less alarmed at the idea of favorite actors finding me NOW vs the truly horrendous idea #that they might have found me back in like 2011-2015 #like. I hate that person. the person who ran my blog back then suuuuucked #which is great cuz it means I’ve grown and matured and experienced life enough to improve #but also like. imagine your favorite actor knowing your tumblr blog from Before #and just loooooathing you #finding out you’re the one writing a ton of fic for their character now and being like ‘THAT one? really?’ #'i've had your URL blacklisted since the GLEE DAYS' fucking imagine #anyway. all of this is moot certainly. like there is just no way. it's all good. #but it did make me make the most unholy noise mid-run so thanks for THAT

[bookwyrminspiration]

if young Sophie had any social media I think it might’ve been tumblr, but what would she post? destiel? Sophie fanfic author au, she logs on to ao3 like “hey sorry this chapter has taken like 3 years, turns out I’m not actually human and I had to leave my whole life behind and I keep getting hunted down by these pyromaniacs and I’ve been hospitalized over a dozen times. but I saw the Spanish dub and just had to get something out, sorry it took so long, enjoy xx”

#kotlc #sophie foster #comes home from a long day of being the class freak logs on and reblogs a sad emo staring at a mirror saying no one gets them or something #book fandom shit? or was she too sad to find fandom and instead moping #I don’t know!! #and then what would her tumblr look like now… #wait I just had an idea #Sophie fanfic writer ao3 authors note like haha sorry this chapter is so late it turns out I’m not actually human #and I’ve spent the last 3 years #actually wait I’ll putting this in the post this is funny #GOD I think I’m so funny

[sammygender]

i hate it when people put angel low on their character ranking what are you DOING that’s ANGEL thats angel :( hes the og spike except he’s like a different type of loser. i know he’s kind of creepy in btvs sometimes and he’s a shit boyfriend but we all have our regrets. this is hilariously ironic because i really did not like angel when i first watched btvs and now, a year later, i am a die hard bangel divorce fan

#the divorce is important there i couldn’t really endorse an endgame bangel it’s just. too juvenile for them #Idk…. because i suppose like. in a bunch of years. there’s something sweet about the idea of them coming back to each other #<- God listen to me i’m crazy. words of someone who went through a very emotionally intense breakup #but yea like angel was a Meh i was so happy when he left in s3 #then missed him in s4 cause of Riley…. #then when i watched ats for the first time which was just s1 i gained a real appreication for him. #hes so silly in s1 (in general ats). guys do i look intimidating? :/ #but anyway then i stopped #then i rewatched btvs from s2 onwards and just honestly had a Deep appreciation #NOW i’ve rewatching ats s1 and am watching ats s2 and i just love him. #sorry. he’s everything to me. he’s LITERALLY a vampire with catholic guilt like what more do you want?? #oliver talks

[1moreoffkeyanthem]

Y’all ever had a panic attack so bad that you pass out in front of the manager at your new day job and also a full line of customers?

Yeah so I have a Tweek oneshot idea now

#personal? #but also #south park #for reference I started picking up random shifts at a smoothie place and get really fucking overstimulated during a rush #and I’ve been up for far too long #fully Tweaking on caffeine #and this poor sweet 19 year old kid had to HELP ME TO THE BACK #I am so fucking embarrassed #but Tweek oneshot idea tho #fic ideas #very sorry to everyone who saw that #unfortunately I lived #Stan will be in the role of the manager #and Tweek as me #i hate it here

[spineless-lobster]

I need to commit murder I think that would fix me

#sorry my brain is screaming and scratching at me for no reason #I haven’t even had a full week of school yet I don’t know why I’m so stressed #like there’s a lot of stuff but I have it all under control so I have no idea why my brain is so angry and stressed #like the simplest things are setting me off like my parents are just talking to me normally and I feel like screaming at them #and the fact that I’m stressed for no reason just makes me even more angry because like why?!?!? #girl there is nothing wrong why are you upset??? #I have no idea why school is affecting me so much this year I’ve done this for like eleven years you think I’d be used to it #whatever it’s my last year I can do it #if the captain can survive a war I can survive school lmao

[skyward-floored]

I got hit by sudden love for a fic I barely talk about because I haven’t even published any of it at all and I just

hngh

#rambles from the Floor #sorry #the problem is that I’ve had the idea for it even before I was writing fic #so it’s been living in my head for like five years #I do have some of it written but it was just daydreams for a solid 2-3 years #anyway all that to say botw dark link au my beloved