#yo i need a t shirt with that on it and maybe I’d have a love life lmaoooo

[simpforrooster]

but she’s my best friend

Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw x f!reader

you and rooster have been friends for years. growing closer over your summers spent with your aunt penny. over time, your feelings develop past platonic, but rooster doesn't seem to notice...that is until he notices another guy interested in you and he goes crazy. 

t/w: mentions of alcohol, jealous rooster, I think that's all. 

“Honey, I think that spot is plenty clean,” your Aunt Penny says, taking the hand towel from you. 

Your best friend, Bradley ‘Rooster’ Bradshaw, just came in from the beach with Hangman and Coyote. His denim shorts are slung low on his hips, and he's got an open Hawaiian shirt draped on his shoulders. No shirt underneath. Glistening with sweat. 

“Pretty soon, everyone is going to stop buying that ‘just friends’ shit,” Penny giggles. 

This finally gets your attention, pulling your eyes from undressing your so-called best friends. 

Friends can appreciate when the other looks good, right? 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you grumble, taking the towel back from her, tucking it into your back pocket. 

Before she can add anything, the man himself stalks up to the bar. 

“Barkeep! I need something to cool me off!” Rooster slams his hand down on the bar, his eyes sparkling with laughter. You meet his smile with one of your own. 

“Careful, Roos, you don’t want to be caught disrespectin’ a lady. Aunt P has been itching to ring that bell all day.” 

Rooster leans over the bar, giving you a sweaty kiss on the cheek. “I’d never disrespect you, boo.” He’s called you that for years, and every time is makes you melt a little. 

Shaking your head at him, you pop the tab on his beer and slide it over to him. He brings the bottle to his lips, and you have to distract yourself with an imaginary smudge on the bar to keep the thoughts of his lips on yours at bay. 

You and Rooster have been thick as thieves ever since your pseudo Uncle Maverick introduced the two of you during your first summer break here in Fightertown USA. It’s hard to pinpoint exactly when your feelings developed past platonic. It wasn’t like you saw him often growing up. Just over the summer until you graduated high school, and moved in with Peggy and Amelia. Maybe it was the way he always made sure to stay in touch. Or the way he hugged you real tight before leaving for a mission. Always whispering in your ear that he would be safe and see you soon. 

Rooster throws you a wink, and saunters over to Hangman and Coyote. Just as Hangman let go of the dart he was aiming with, Rooster smacked it out of the air, earning a “Fuck you” from Hangman. 

“Yeah, just friends my ass,” Penny shakes her head, counting bills out in her hands. 

~

Rooster has been watching you all night. After your shift, you briefly left the bar, and came back an hour later dressed to fucking kill. A red, oversized dress hung off one shoulder, and Rooster has always loved when you wear red. He thought it made your Y/EC pop. 

You paired the dress with your signature sneakers, and Rooster was having a hard time concentrating on his conversation with Bob and Phoenix. 

You throw your head back in laughter at something the guy who’s been chatting you up says. When you lean forward, your arm landing on his, Rooster is up on his feet. 

“Yo, Roos, what’s up?” Phoenix says, taken aback at his abruptness. Rooster doesn't say anything, but his jaw tightens as he looks at the guy. Phoenix’s eyes move toward you and realization hits her. 

The guys leans down to your ear, whispering something that makes your face flush. His eyes dart toward the door, and consideration settles in your eyes. His stomach drops, as he watches that guy’s hand settle on your waist. 

Why aren’t you shaking off that touch?

“What is she doing?” Rooster whispers to himself. He’s never known you to go home with any of the bar patrons before. You’ve always been close to his side, a constant, pleasant presence. 

His best friend. 

What’s this guy have that Rooster doesn't? 

Mixed emotions rush through his head, and it almost makes him crazy. He’s never felt this possession over you until tonight. No one has ever made him feel like he needed to compete. 

Not even Hangman. 

No, even Jake has kept his distance from you. And Jake isn’t one to back down from a pretty girl. 

You were absolutely a pretty girl. 

Rooster turns to Phoenix, and she gives him a smile. 

“What’s happening?” he asks no one in particular. 

Phoenix nudges Bob, “He’s finally realized.”

Confusion pulls Rooster’s brows together. “Realized what?” 

“Come on, man. You’re in love with Y/N. You always have been,” she gestures to you, still talking with that guy. He hadn’t gotten you outside yet. 

“But she’s my best friend,” Rooster says to himself, like he’s trying to reason with what is happening. 600 different emotions run through his head, but the only thing he can grasp is that there is no way he can let you leave the bar with that loser. 

~

You’ve been stalling for what feels like minutes with Aaron. He was nice enough, a coms guy for the base. Easy enough on the eyes, but he wasn't Rooster. You thought you’d be able to make a decision on giving him a chance or not, but you couldn't make yourself leave with him. 

Not when Rooster was staring daggers into the side of your face. Aaron slides you another drink, and you smile a thanks. He pushes his glasses up on his face and looks around the bar. You can tell he’s growing antsy. He only invited you to go onto the beach, where it was a little quieter. 

You notice Jake over at the jukebox. Slow Ride plays a few seconds later, and he gives a pointed look to Rooster. 

This seems to wake him up, because he’s no longer burning a whole into your cheek, but rather coming over to you. No, more like stalking his way over. 

Rooster comes up beside you, his chest heaving against your shoulder. His eyes move toward Aaron, and if looks could kill, Aaron would be Rooster’s first confirmed kill. 

“Can I see you outside, Y/N?” Rooster murmurs, his voice strained. The use of your first name catches you off guard, Rooster rarely uses it. 

Before you can agree, Rooster has a firm grip around your wrist, pulling you through the crowd. 

“What are you thinking?!” he lets out, totally catching you off guard. His breathing is heavy, and you’re so lost as to what is going on. “Do you even know that guy?” 

Confusion turns to anger. “What does it matter? I was getting to know him.” You cross your arms over your chest. After this afternoon’s exchange with Rooster, you knew you wouldn't be able to wait around for him forever. After all these years of friendship, if he felt different, he would have told you. 

“Yeah, I'd say. I haven't seen you all night.” 

What has gotten into him?

“Well, maybe I am sick of following you around like a puppy waiting for something to happen.” You hope your words hit him like you want them to. 

They do, because Rooster takes a step back, as if your statement shoved him back. 

“But you’re my best friend,” he murmurs more to himself than you. 

“I’m afraid that’s all I’m going to be to you, Bradley,” you whisper. Rooster’s eyes shoot over to yours at the use of his name. 

“When he put his hand on your waist, I almost lost it,” his voice is strained, like his is wrestling with something going on in his head. 

“Roos,” you start, but Rooster stops you. Closing the distance between the two of you, he brings his hands up to your face. You let yourself involuntarily lean into the touch. 

“I didn't realize it before tonight. You've always been a constant in my life. No body has ever threatened that before. Seeing you with him made me see red,” he says, his lips a breath from yours. “I don't want to share you with anyone else.”

“I didn't realize I was yours,” you whisper. 

“I’m in love with my best friend. I think I always have been,” he says softly. Those brown eyes that you've memorized over many years stare into yours. 

Bradley leans down, and closes the space between you. Your brain short circuits for a moment, before you come to. You grab the collar of his silly Hawaiian shirt and pull him closer to you, completely basking in the moment. 

“So all I had to do what make you jealous?” you grin when he pulls away. 

Rooster rolls his eyes. “Shut up,” he says, pulling you in for another kiss. 

masterlist

#top gun #top gun maverick #top gun maverick fic #rooster x reader #rooster x oc #bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley bradshaw x y/n #bradley bradshaw fic #Bradley Bradshaw x reader #bradleybradshaw #rooster #rooster x you

[orions-tears]

hi!! seb x reader fic prompt here- how about a trans (ftm) mc x sebastian and they’re making out for the first time? a confession of sorts perhaps

Confession - Sebastian Sallow

Pairing: Sebastian x Male!Reader

Themes: Fluff, slight spice, coming out

A/N: Hello! I hope I captured what you were looking for. I've come out to the people I know pretty cryptically so I don't have much experience just doing it, you know? Anyways, I hope it's okay!

P.S. The grading scale for NE.W.T.S and O.W.L.S is O, E, and A being passing scores and P, D, and T are fails.

“A P! I got a P! That’s a fail isn’t it?” you yell, smacking your forehead and pacing back in forth.

Sebastian is watching you, holding back a laugh as he leans against the library desk. He shakes his head and turns back toward his book. “I told you I’d help you study,” he replies, throwing his hands in the air.  You sigh and sit on the table next to his, looking down at him.

“I’m telling you it’s not fair. All I’ve done for this place and I still fail.”

With that comment he bursts out laughing, prompting Madam Scribner to yell at him to be quiet. He looks at her and apologizes in a sing-song voice, looking back at you with a smile. “She loves me I know it,” he says, shrugging. “Look, this just means we need to study more for your N.E.W.T.S.” He grabs his book and stands, winking at you. “And I know just the place.”

You end up following him to the clock tower to a corner of the walkway, away from normal traffic. You realize why he brought you here and you just stare at him, trying not to smile. “Do you think you’re funny, Sebastian?”

He leans against the railing and closes his eyes. “I think I’m quite hilarious, but this is no joke.” He opens his eyes and takes a step towards you. “It’s important to take a break from studying sometimes. You need to be prepared.” He reaches out and lightly touches your cheek. “You’ve been seeing your books more than me.” He places a hand over his forehead to feign being faint. You shake your head and grin at him.

“Sebastian, I know what you’re doing.”

He looks at you, shocked. “I don’t know what you mean.”

You tilt your head at him. It’s not surprising how forward he is about getting you alone. You’ve been waiting for this since fifth-year. The minute you met in Defense Against the Dark Arts, you knew you had to have him. You step forward, pushing him against the railing. He smirks as you take his face in your hands, kissing him harshly. You feel his arm wrap around your waist, the other moving to untuck your shirt. You think nothing of it until you realize he’s never actually seen you without a shirt. Panicking, you grab his wrist and pull away.

He looks at you, confused. “Everything alright?” he asks, concerned.

You flush red and turn away tucking your shirt back in. “I…uhm…maybe now isn’t the best time,” you say, scared of what he might say if you tell him the truth. He leans around you and grabs your hand. When you look up at him you see he’s smiling but he looks a little bit sad. You want to trust him with everything and you know he wants you to, but this? You know he’d never do anything to hurt you but he’s not always the best at keeping secrets.

“It’s alright, (Y/N). I’m sorry if I’ve made you uncomfortable.”

Your eyes grow wide as you reply, “No! No it isn’t you I’m sorry…It’s just…” you trail off. How are you going to say this? You pull him back into the corner and hold both of his hands, looking down at your feet. “Please don’t be upset with me,” you plead, quietly. He shakes his head and laughs a little.

“Why would I be upset with you? Are you confessing that it was really you that stole my other waistcoat? Cause I’ve been looking for it everywhere.” You laugh and put your hands on your hips.

 “No I didn’t steal it. How do you lose a waistcoat anyway?”

He shrugs. “Isn’t that the question.”

 You shake your head, your smile fading. “No, umm. I’m just going to say it, alright? Please promise me you won’t be upset.”

He nods. “I promise.”

You take a big breath and sigh. “Okay…” you say as you shut your eyes. “I’m trans.” You turn your head away from him, cringing while you wait for a response. After a moment he squeezes your hands and you look back at him. Your face is hot and you’re so scared of his response.

“Thank you,” he says. You blink a couple times. Thank you?

“What?” you manage to get out.

 He smiles. “I said thank you. For trusting me.”

You feel a tear run down your face and you quickly wipe it away. “I- your not mad?”

He laughs. “Mad? What a ludicrous thing to think. You trust me with a secret and think I’ll be mad? I would never.”

You hug him tightly, feeling a few more tears run down your face. Sebastian was the first person outside your family that you trusted with this information and oh how kind he was about it. He may be brash sometimes, but with you he was kind. You pull away from the hug and kiss him again. When you pull away, he smiles. “We should do that again. A few more times, actually.”

 You start laughing and shove him away. “I need to study, Sebastian, stop distracting me on purpose.” You start walking back to the library with Sebastian trailing behind you. You turn around to look at him and grin. “You know, maybe you can take my shirt off.” You grins and grabs ahold of your arms. You laugh and shove him to the side. “But, only if I pass my N.E.W.T.S.”

He groans and throws his hands up in the air. “It’ll never happen.” You scoff and punch him in the arm. When he yelps, you start running down the stairs of the faculty tower. He runs after you shouting vague threats he’d never follow through on. Finally, you knew someone loved you for who you were, no exceptions.

#hogwarts legacy imagine #hogwarts #hogwarts legacy mc #hogwarts legacy #sebastian sallow fluff #sebastian sallow imagines #sebastian imagine #sebastian x reader #sebastian sallow #sebastian sallow x you #sebastian sallow x male reader

[aki-i-guess]

ARG FIRST TIME POSTING SMUT

CW: Lucifer x gn reader with a pussy, no pronouns mentioned or anything! Use of the word cunt like twice, tying Lucifer up with his belts in his chair! Lucifer also cries a little but it’s a good thing! (Reader rides Luci until he cries, minors DNI!!!!!!!!🔞🔞🔞) under the cut because it’s kind of long

“Hey, Luci?” You knocked on his private study door, speaking out when you knew he would hear. “Are you in there?”

A muffled sound of “come in” was all the motivation you needed to swing the door open.

There he was, sitting at his desk. Papers filled almost every inch of his workspace. He looked tired and drained, with his clothes unbuttoned and slightly pulled apart for maximum comfort for the late night.

You sighed when he met your eyes.

“Come on, Lulu. Just because it’s the weekend doesn’t mean you can overwork yourself.” You locked the door behind you, stepping close to the sleepy demon.

He shook his head. “This work needs to get done, MC. I can’t just not do it.”

“I didn’t tell you not to do it, I told you to take a break.” You spoke gently, reaching him. Since he was still seated, his head came up to your chest. You wound your fingers through his dark hair.

He sighed and leaned into your touch. Lucifer gave in pretty easily, knowing that you knew what was best sometimes. After all, he trusted you with everything.

He pushed his head into your chest. You weren’t wearing anything other than your pajamas, which consisted of a thin t-shirt and some shorts. Lucifer seemed to like this style choice as his fingers crept over from his work and to your sides.

His bare hands traced up and down, all the way down your thighs and all the way back up to your elbows.

“Hmm, I can think of something that’s a little more… relieving than sleep.” He mumbled, looking up at you. His hands moved back to hold your ass and drag you forward.

You smiled and leaned down, leaving a kiss on his forehead.

“Absolutely not. You’re too tired for what I want to do.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Oh? Maybe I’m not tired anymore.”

Sure enough, the fatigue seemed to leave his body, leaving room for the lustful gaze that rivaled Asmo’s.

You let him lean upwards and stand. He tugged you into a kiss, and his mouth tasted faintly of black coffee.

Lucifer never grew tired of you; the way you tasted, the way you felt against him, the way you seemed to be the only one who would always understand him. You fit him perfectly, soft and sweet where he was rough and bitter.

He lazily let his mouth open, letting out a shakey breath when your tongue met his.

He was quick to take control, loving the way you squirmed in his arms. He trapped you against the side of his desk.

Your hands tugged his hair, pulling him back so you could get some air.

“Luci, can I ask you a favor?” You begged, eyes half-lidded and mouth pink from kisses.

He mustn’t have looked any better, hair in disarray as your hands scratched up and down the back of his head. He shivered with the stimulation.

“Anything for you, my love.” He whispered, leaning down again to capture your lips.

You spoke between kisses.

“Can I be on top?”

He pulled away with a raised eyebrow. “I never mind when you ride me, love.”

You flushed an even deeper shade of red. “No, I mean like… can I be more dominant this time?”

He hesitated.

“I don’t know, I don’t think you could.” He teased, kissing down your throat to leave small hickeys in the places you liked them. He was still learning everything you liked, and he adored the gasp you made when his breath hit your collarbone.

“Let me try. Please, Lulu.” You closed your eyes, pulling him closer to your neck. “Ah, fuck, please let me try tonight. And besides,” Your eyes met his in a fiery clash. You paused for dramatic effect. “I’d return the favor.”

He dipped down to meet your lips again.

“And what does that entail, exactly?” He played along, speaking between kisses.

“It means you can do whatever you want to me, whenever you want.” You opened your mouth and let him in again. He tasted like dark coffee, melancholic tones filled your mouth and moved down your throat. He filled all of your senses and left you craving more.

Lucifer breathed heavily, heart beating wildly in his chest. His head swam with the impact you had on him. His body reacted before his thoughts did, pulling you into his lap on his computer chair. Thankfully, it was big and expensive, so it was wide enough for you both and also able to handle your combined weight.

He kept his hands on your hips, guiding you into a grinding motion.

“Like this?” He asked, moving to lift your shirt.

You bit your lip.

“No, Lucifer,” You pulled his hands away. “My turn to be dominant.”

He almost growled, unhappy that you had taken his hands off of your body. He reminded himself that it was a favor, and the look of satisfaction that stained your face was cute enough to make his resistance worth it.

“Don’t move.” You ordered, looked around frantically before settling on something behind his back. You leaned over his body to reach for it, meaning he was so close to your body but was unable to ravage you the way he wanted.

He flinched when you pulled a belt off of his desk. It wasn’t the one he was wearing, but one he took off the other day and forgot to bring back to his room.

You started to tie one of his wrists to the chair arm in such a way that he couldn’t move them, but that he could break free if he ever needed to.

You took his belt from his pants, purposefully teasing him by rubbing his clothed erection. His breath stuttered and his hips buckled, but your hands were gone before he could get any more stimulation.

You tied up his other hand, and when it was done, looked down proudly at your handiwork.

“So, now what?” Lucifer tried to verbally take control. If he couldn’t control you with his actions, maybe he could make you using his words.

You didn’t fall for it.

“Now I rock your world, love.” You winked.

You took his pants and underwear off first, not giving his weeping cock the time of day. He furrowed his brows when you passed right over his needy, growing erection and started unbuttoning his shirt.

He couldn’t get out a word before you moved on. He noticed your rush to keep the momentum going, and he chalked it up to you hoping to get to the good part before he changed his mind. It was adorable, the way you looked so excited. He couldn’t help the shiver that ripped up his spine. Your pants slid off and hit the floor, and Lucifer realized with an embarrassing flush that you weren’t wearing any underwear.

“Oh, fuck.” He whispered. You had perched back onto his lap, and within the moment had lined his head up with your sticky cunt.

He felt you wiggle around trying to find the most comfortable position. It was agony, the way he felt your heat but wasn’t allowed to dive into it. It took every inch of his willpower not to snap the measly leather belts and sink you on his cock.

“Hm? What was that?” You leaned forward, keeping his cock against you but not sitting down. You felt his muscles strain under your hands, and your chest swelled when a growl ripped from his throat. He vibrated with frustration and excitement, and you were suddenly very grateful he went along with your request.

“I’m starting to regret letting yo- oh!” He gasped when you let the head inside, slowly lowering down.

You whined, slightly squirming. You felt so full in this position.

You bit your lip to silence any more noises, keeping calm and steady.

“Sorry, dearest, I didn’t catch that.” You met his eyes again, and the fire held within them set you aflame, too.

He bucked up and into you, but your hips followed his, keeping him exactly where you wanted. He growled again, this time baring his fangs. Almost like a switch went off in his head when he was denied to do what he wanted. His sin clawed in his chest, demanding and painfully caught in Luci’s throat.

You kept your pace, slowly taking all of him in one fluid motion. To you, it was so nice. Lucifer’s cock would twitch and elicit a shiver up your spine. To Lucifer, it was torture. You teased him, giving the demon a taste but not letting him savor it.

“You can- fuck- you can move now.” Lucifer bit his lip, fanged teeth daring to break the skin.

You couldn’t help but smirk at him.

“I can do whatever I want, remember?” You mewled, lifting up fully before settling back in his lap. A sigh left your parted lips, and Lucifer wanted nothing more than to cut it off with a kiss.

“You’re awfully smug for being such a brat-“ You ground down on his cock, purposefully making him gasp in a breath. “You-“

“Don’t worry, Lucifer.” You lifted, shivering at the way his heavy cock slid inside you again. “I’ll take good care of you.”

He whimpered so quietly that you almost thought you imagined it. The blush that stained his pretty cheeks, however, left nothing to the imagination.

His hands gripped the armrests when you picked up your pace, feeling the head of his cock hit the sweetest parts of you before dragging out, just to bully its way back inside. You tried to be quiet to hear more of his voice, but damn did he feel good.

Your pace was good, great, but not enough for him. It left him right on the edge, so so close to cumming but never quite tipping over the edge.

He squirmed under your shaking thighs.

“Oh fuck-“ He whispered, trying desperately to buck into your wet heat but never allowed to. It drove him crazy. So crazy that hot tears pricked the edge of his eyes. “Please- I’m so-“

“I’ll take care of you.” You leaned forward to wrap your arms around his shoulders, allowing him a deeper angle inside your hot cunt. One hand came down to thumb along the warm tears that stained his red cheeks. “Go on, baby. Cum for me.”

That’s all he needed to tip over the edge, wrists easily breaking the flimsy leather belts and wrapping around your hips. A small cry came from the back of his throat, the softest sob as he was finally given permission. He pumped you on his lap once, twice, before cumming as deep as he could inside you.

He whimpered and shook as he held you tight. You came with a soft moan of his name as his hot cum spilled out from around his cock.

He held you like that for a while, panting heavily as his tears calmed.

“You…” He tried to speak, but his world was rocked so hard he couldn’t quite form the words.

“I’ve got you.” You finished, holding him just as close.

#obey me x mc #obey me x reader #obey me lucifer #lucifer obey me #lucifer x reader #lucifer x mc #omswd lucifer #lucifer smut #obey me smut #swd lucifer

[luvmarigold]

keep it hush (college!peter parker x fem!reader)

Summary: You find yourself crossing a line with Peter that you never intended to cross.

Pairings: fwb!peter x reader

WC: 1,086

WARNINGS: fluff, two idiots in love, mutual pining, slight angst (?)

important note: this fic has NOT been stolen! i, the original writer, am reposting this on my new blog as my previous blog (spiderl0rd) was wrongfully deleted. as always, reblogs and comments are appreciated! this is a part of @mermaidxatxheart ‘s Hot Writer Summer Challenge! this fic is based off of the song “Toothbrush” by DNCE. divider by @firefly-graphics

You were in heaven. At least it felt like you were.

Lying there with your head on Peter’s chest, his hand rubbing gentle circles on your back, legs tangled up in the warm sheets, you were the most comfortable you’ve ever been. Perhaps too comfortable.

You and Peter met during your freshman year. He and his friend, Ned, lived in the dorm directly across the hall from you. After learning that you were both from Queens, you became instant friends. It wasn’t until the Spring semester that you noticed something between you. A spark.

A lingering glance here. A flirty comment there. You both finally decided to give in to temptation and try your hand at being friends with benefits.

That was six months ago and against your better judgment, you felt yourself falling for him. Hard. You swore to yourself that for the sake of your friendship, you wouldn’t let yourself get attached. However, your heart had other plans.

You glance out of the window to see the sun setting, realizing your time with Peter has come to an end. You let out a sigh before moving to climb out of bed. Before your feet are able to touch the ground, you feel a gentle hand wrap around your wrist.

“Wait, you’re leaving already? It’s barely even 8 o’clock.” He says with a nearly imperceptible pout on his lips.

You let out a light chuckle, “I just figured I’d start heading back. I’ve been here all day. You’re probably getting sick of me by now.”

“Don’t say that. I could never get sick of you. I love every minute I spend with you.” He says with a slight frown.

You pause and look at him – really look at him. He’s dead serious. You attempt to laugh it off, ignoring the feeling building in the pit of your stomach. You ruffle his already messy curls before finally climbing out of bed, “Aw, thanks, Parker. I love spending time with you too.”

There is a moment of silence as he takes you in. Eyes follow you around the room as you free yourself from his t-shirt, changing back into your own clothes. 

“Hey, Y/N?”

You hum, urging him to continue.

“Y’know you’re always welcome to stay over if you’d like…right?”

You stop in your tracks and look at him, searching his eyes for any indication that he’s joking. Your search turns up empty. 

You just sigh and shake your head. “C’mon Pete, we’ve talked about this. You know the rules.”

“It’s just…you’re always in such a rush to leave after we hook up. I don’t want you to feel like you have to do that, that’s all.”

“I appreciate that. Trust me, I do. I just don’t think it’s appropriate.”

“What do you mean? You’ve slept over dozens of times. What’s one more?” He says crawling over to the edge of the bed to be closer to you.

“Yeah but that was before we started doing this.” You say gesturing between the two of you. 

“It’s just one night. It’s not a big deal.”

You frown, “Maybe not to you, but it is to me.”

A look of confusion flashes across his features. “What do you mean?”

“I mean that cuddling and spending time together after sex crosses a boundary that we both agreed we wouldn’t cross. We both agreed that we need to give each other space in order for this to work. Otherwise, it’ll start to feel like we’re more than just benefitting if you know what I mean.”

A long, uncomfortable silence hangs in the air as you go back to gathering your belongings. You almost forgot that Peter was in the room before he quietly spoke up again.

“…But would that be so bad, though?”

“Peter-” “Please. Let me finish.”

You nod sitting back down next to him on the mattress.

“I’m sorry, okay? I know it’s against the rules or whatever but I can’t help the fact that every time I see you walk out that door, you take a little piece of my heart with you. Every night we spend together just plays on repeat in my head, over and over, until I get the chance to see you again. Being around you is all I want to do, Y/N.”

You feel your heart rate pick up and your breath quicken. This is the moment you’ve been dreaming of since you first came to terms with the fact that you had feelings for Peter. So, why are you not over the moon about his confession?

Avoiding his gaze, you turn away from him, shaking your head. “We’re friends Pete. I would never jeopardize that.”

“Well can’t we at least try? Look at me, sweetheart.” You reluctantly let your eyes meet his as he grabs your hands, sandwiching them between his own. “I say to hell with the rules. I’d break every rule in the book if it meant we got to be together. I’m not saying we have to end up in a relationship if that’s not what you want. All I’m asking is that we have a proper go at it and see if we can make things work. I’m tired of moving around in secrecy. I want to take you out on a real date. I want to fall asleep next to you. I want to be able to show you off because that’s what you deserve, Y/N. Let me be the one to give that to you.”

Your brain is screaming at you to say “no, absolutely not” but your heart is screaming louder and it’s telling you that this may be worth the risk.

“If I agree to this, keyword: if, would you agree to take things slow?”

“Of course, whatever you want! Maybe you can start leaving a change of clothes here? I can empty out one of my drawers for you if you’d like. I can even get you an extra toothbrush or something that you can keep in my bathroom. That way, you don’t have to leave super early to go back to your place. Oh! How about we-” You cut off his rambling by grabbing his face between your hands.

“Parker!”

A deep red washes over his features, throwing you a sheepish grin. “…Yeah?”

“I’d be honored to leave a toothbrush at your place, you goof.”

Those are the last words you’re able to say before he pounces on you, smothering your face with kisses. “You won’t regret this, Y/N. I promise.”

#peter parker x reader #peter parker fanfiction #peter parker imagine #hotwritersummerchallenge #peter parker #college au #college!peter parker #peter parker fluff #song fic #tom holland #fwb!peter parker #tom holland fluff #spiderman #peter parker fic #tom holland smut #tom holland x reader #tom holland imagine #marvel #marvel fanfiction #writing challenge #marvel imagine

[msmoony7]

💘 can you pls write me an eli hewson blurb and it’s a meet cute at the airport? Also congrats!!

airport meet cute

Eli Hewson x reader

Word count: 770

Note: hope u enjoy it! Thanks for requesting :)

100 follower celebration!

feel free to send in more requests!

You’re late. You’re never late. And you hate being late. But the world seemed to be against you today and everything that could have gone wrong went wrong. Your alarm didn’t ring, causing you to sleep in. You knew you should’ve finished packing last night, but you were so tired from work that you couldn’t bring yourself to. You didn’t even have time for breakfast before you had to get out the door and get a taxi. With your luck, the taxi that you hailed got stolen right in front of you by someone who was seemingly in a bigger rush than you. You finally get in a taxi and the driver begins driving to the airport as quickly as they can.

You arrive at the airport and still need to get through security. You have hope that you might make your flight since you don’t need to check a bag. Security takes forever, as always, and you begin running to your gate. Just when you thought your day couldn’t get any worse, you see the boarding door close in the distance, not even thirty seconds before you get there.

“Oh come on, please let me on,” you beg the worker.

“I’m sorry, it's policy. Once the doors are closed, we can’t open them. The best we can offer you is a seat on the next flight. It leaves at 6pm tonight.”

It could be worse, you think to yourself. At least there was another flight today. You find the gate for your next flight and pull out a book to kill some time.

There’s about an hour left until your flight begins boarding and at this point, you’re so tired of reading you have to put your book away. You decide to stop at the airport bar for an overpriced drink. The bar is crowded but luckily there’s one seat at the counter. You sit down with a sigh as the bartender comes and takes your order, a vodka redbull.

“You sound like you had a bad day,” you hear the man to your left say.

“You could say that again,” you reply as you look up to meet his eyes. He’s attractive and probably around your age. He has big brown eyes and dark brown hair that is almost too long yet somehow, he makes it work. He’s wearing jeans, a long sleeve black t-shirt, and black boots. “Everything went wrong today, I missed my flight, and had to wait hours for the next one.” You’re not sure why you’re confiding in him, but you’re at your wits end and don’t have time to question anything you do.

“Wow, that sucks. Here, let me pay for your drink,” he says as he hands the bartender his card.

“It’s okay,” you say as you try to grab the card.

“No, I insist. Maybe your day will turn around from here,” he says with a smile as he grabs his card back from the bartender and leaves without another word. You’re thankful for the mystery man as you sip your drink.

The time to board the plane comes around and you’re feeling restless having waited all day for the flight. You walk down the aisles and as you get to your seat, you find the same man who bought you a drink sitting next to your seat.

“Never thought I’d see you again,” you say with a smile. He looks up and upon seeing who you are, gives you a smile in return.

“What’re the odds.”

“Thanks again for the drink,” you say as you take your seat next to him.

“Not a problem. How’s your day been since?” he asks.

“Nothing worse has happened, so I guess that’s an improvement.” Your day has taken a turn for the better, you think.

“Good to hear. What brings you to California?”

“I’m from there, I’m visiting family for the week. How about you?”

“I’m actually in a band. We’re doing some festivals out on the west coast for the next few weeks. I’m Eli, by the way.”

“Y/N.”

The two of you chat for the majority of the flight and get to know each other. Eli helps you get your bag down from the overhead bins and you both walk off the plane together.

“Hey, I’d love to see you again. How about you come to one of the shows?”

“That sounds amazing!”

“Awesome, I’ll text you the details. See you around.” He walks away, giving you a wink and leaving you smiling by yourself as you wait for your family to pick you up. Maybe missing your flight wasn’t a bad thing after all.

#ang’s 100 follower celebration #inhaler #inhalerband #inhalerdublin #inhaler x reader #inhaler dublin #inhaler band #inhaler fanfic #inhaler imagine #elijah hewson #eli hewson #elijah hewson fluff #elijah hewson one shot #elijah hewson x reader #elijah hewson oneshot #elijah hewson imagine #eli hewson oneshot #eli hewson fluff #eli hewson fanfic

[dmwrites]

“I cannot believe you forced me into this, Joe.” Cleo hissed, taking a swig of wine.

“Cleo, networking is important even for dead people. And please, it’s Joest for the evening.” Joe took a white powder compact out of his suit pocket and dabbed at his face and beard.

“I do network! With hermits! These beings are rotting.” Cleo put down her wine and fixed one of the straps of her satin black dress.

“You are also rotting.”

“That is besides the point.” Cleo muttered, taking another swig of wine. “I just can’t believe you got in here.”

“Cleo.” Joe put down the powder and picked up his whiskey. “The art of makeup and faking confidence does wonders for getting me where I need to be. Plus, the people who live beyond death are a group of people I feel would be a good resource and creative partners. I work with you, and we get along, don’t we?”

“I tolerate your existence.” Cleo told him, but was interrupted by a gravelly-voiced and brazen ghost swagging up to them.

“YO! Cleo and that idiot that I hate! I didn’t know you were coming to this shindig! Who let you two out of the trash cans you live in, huh?”

Joe sighed. “Hello, Beetlejoest.”

“Fuck off, Beetlejoest.” Cleo said conversationally.

“Hey, hey, hey!” Beetlejoest held out his hands defensively, green smoke coming out of his ears. “No need to get sassy, Cleo girly! Just making conversation with you and your masquerading friend here! I couldn’t help but overhear you making fun of good ol’ Joe here, and I couldn’t help but agree! I think you need some good ol’ Beetlejoest in your life, to add that thrill you know you need!”

Cleo bent down slightly and grabbed the knife she had strapped to her thigh. “Nobody makes fun of Joe except me, so you better go back to whatever corner of hell you slithered from and leave me and my definitely ghost friend alone.” She jolted forward, knife held out, and Beetlejoest jumped backwards.

“Alright, alright, I’ll leave the losers club alone. Hope no one finds out about the beating heart in the room.” Beetlejoest did his best attempt at a sneer and slunk off, grabbing an entire bottle of vodka as he went.

“For goodness sake, Cleo!” Joe slapped her her hand until she put the knife back. “You don’t want to upset that guy- he has the hermitcraft IP address!”

“I could take him any day.” Cleo muttered. She smoothed her hair and resumed her calm and bored expression. “Okay, I’ll behave. Who should we go network to then, hm?”

Joe clicked his tongue, looking around the room. The dead were standing or sitting at high tables scattered about, all dressed up in their nicest business attire, chatting with one another and handing out their business cards. Of course, for the dead, business attire was mostly ballroom clothes or rotting t-shirts. The dead aren’t very good at caring.

“What about that being?” Joe pointed out a smaller blond figure wearing a dirty and tattered red sweater.

“Wow, that looks exactly like Grian from behind.” Cleo said. “Grian isn’t dead, is he?”

“No I think he’s a bird, although some birds do have death imagery associated with them.” Joe said, stroking his beard and getting white powder all over his hand. “We could talk to him. Maybe it’s his secret twin brother, Groan.”

So the two gathered their drinks and ventured from their table at the back of the room and made their way over to the red-sweatered fellow, who had their back to them at a table by themselves.

“Pardon me, can we join you, fellow dead person?” Joe asked.

The being sat up straight and turned to face them in a disjointed, jerky way, and Cleo couldn’t help but to gasp.

“I’d love company!” The being said.

It was Grian. But it was very much not Hermitcraft’s Grian. Yes there was that blond hair and the red sweater and those black eyes. But this Grian had papery, pale skin and a wicked oozing wound in the side of his neck. And, most horrific of all, this parody of Grian had a black felt Mumbo Jumbo style mustache sewn to the rotting skin of his upper lip and cheeks.

Cleo grabbed two nearby stools and sat a stunned-looking Joe on one before settling herself down on the other.

“Um, hi there. What’s your name, fella?” Cleo asked, trying to sound as normal as possible.

“Well howdy, I’m Grien! That’s G-R-I-E-N!” Grien pointed at a little nametag he’d attached to sweater that said just that.

“Grien.” Cleo said in disbelief, eyes narrowing slightly. “No relation to a guy named Grian, I suppose?” As she said it she knew it couldn’t be true- no one with working nerves would sew something into their skin like that.

“Grian? Oh, no, no, that’s not me. Who is that? Haha!” Grien’s eyes looked everywhere but at the two of them. Cleo’s mouth fell open. So was this actually Grian? “And who are you two?” As Grien spoke, the mustache began to droop, pulling on the string and the holes in his face they were looped through. The effect was horrible, and Grien didn’t seem to notice.

Joe took over speaking for them. “I’m Joe H- I mean Joest, and this is my friend ZombieCleo. We live on Hermitcraft, you may have heard of it?”

“Hermitcraft… no, can’t say I have!” Grien’s mustache was completely covering his lips now.

“You got something…” Cleo whispered, gesturing to his lips.

“What? Oh!“ Grien felt for the mustache and chuckled. “Ah, this thing, always coming loose!” He opened his mouth and stuck his fingers behind his lip, pulling on a black string and tightening it.

“Here’s our business card, we gotta go now!” Joe’s voice was at least an octave higher, and he threw a business card down on the table, grabbed Cleo’s hand, and took off into the crowd.

“Holy shit holy shit holy shit!” Cleo whispered, eyes wide, as they got back to their corner.

Joe shivered, putting his hands to his eyes as if to block out what he’d just seen. “There’s no way that’s Grian.”

“But there’s no way it’s not!” Cleo replied. “Like clearly ‘Grien’ was hiding something related to Grian, he was being so cagey.” She downed the rest of her wine. “Ugh! You would think dead things wouldn’t get to me anymore, being dead and rotting myself, but that was alarming to say the least.”

Joe shivered. “It’s like Grian and Mumbo had a person baby and it went very wrong.” He took a sip of whiskey. “Let’s never work with that guy.”

Cleo snorted. “Agreed.”

——

Interested in this headcanon of Grien from 100hrs in hardcore? I wrote another fic involving him!

#September 10 2022 #fic #grien #grian #joe hills #zombiecleo #body horror tw #long post

[bullet-prooflove]

Hey it’s me again the person who asked about the song request fic thank you so much for being willing to try that’s really freakin’ awesome of you I really appreciate it❣️

The song is “Us” (acoustic) by James Bay beautiful song it’s become a fave of mine the song was featured in the movie “After” don’t know if you’ve seen it but if you haven’t I highly recommended watching there are sequels available as well and they’re all amazing.

Anyhoo I’d like it to be Antonio Dawson x fem reader I don’t have a plot line but I figured the purpose of the song request was that it gives the writer inspiration for something and you’re an excellent writer I have no doubt it’ll be a real hit.

Hi! Firstly Iove the song! I think it has the right balance of softness (the piano) and edginess (the drums) to be a great song for Antonio. I ended up adding it to my Antonio playlist!

As for the imagine, this is what I came up with! I hope you like it.

Antonio’s face was bloody, he could feel the hot liquid streak from the cut above his eyebrow and down the side of his face as his hand gripped the banister that led up to your home. His ribs were aching, every breath felt like a knife jabbing into his side. It took everything in him to drag himself up those final steps, to hit the buzzer.

It had been a while since he had taken a beating like this, his head span as he lurched against the wall waiting for you appear. It could have been worse he reasoned; it could have been much worse. They could have killed him; they were supposed to have killed him, but he’d managed to get hold of the gun and shoot them both before they really started in on him.

Now he had a mess to clear up because it was apparent that someone had leaked who he was and there were only a few people who had known that he was undercover. He wasn’t sure who he could trust at the moment and his head was too battered to try and his phone had been smashed up at some point during the beat down. When he’d managed to get himself out of the warehouse and into the streetlights, he realised he was only a block away from your place. Right now, you were the only person he could trust, the only place he felt safe.

You were dressed in shorts and one of his t-shirts when you answered the door, your hair pulled up in a messy bun. You were the most beautiful sight he had ever seen; he felt his heart ache in his chest as your eyes fell upon him startled. It had been a long four months without you in his life, his stint undercover had been extended when they had discovered that the trafficking ring had extended much further than they had anticipated. What was meant to be a few weeks turned into a month and then longer. You were patient but he was aware that four months was a long time, that things could have changed, that maybe you had moved on.

“Antonio, what on hell happened to you?” you asked, ducking under his arm as his knees buckled. Between the two of you, you managed to get him into your small kitchen and seat him down at the small circular table.

“Cover blown.” He told you as you grabbed the medical box from underneath the sink and placed it on the table, before snatching up a clean cloth and filling up a bowl of hot water and setting it alongside it. “You’re the only one I could trust.”

He squinted at you through his good eye, the one that wasn’t swollen shut.

“Jesus, you’re a mess.” You told him, dipping the cloth into the bowl and tipping his chin up with gentle fingertips so you could figure out where to start cleaning. You smoothed his dark hair away from his forehead before dabbing at the cut on his forehead.

“God, I missed you.” He murmured, closing his eyes as you washed the worst of the blood away from his face.

“I missed you too.” You told him, soaking the cloth, and watching the blood plume in the clear water. His hand captured yours before you could retrieve it. You turned your attention back to his face.

“I need to hear you say it.” He told you, his voice trembling. “I need to hear you tell me that you still love me, that four months apart hasn’t changed anything between us.” You couldn’t imagine what it was like to be in his position, to have to leave your life behind and pray that it would still be there when you returned. He was vulnerable right now, emotionally, physically and you would do everything you could to sooth the fear deep down inside of him.

Your hand cupped his cheek, your thumb grazing over the corner of his mouth as looked into his eyes. “Antonio Dawson.” Your murmured tenderly. “I love you and being apart for a few months won’t change that.”

He sighed into your touch, his hand covering yours as his lips brushed the pulse point of your wrist.

“I just needed to hear it.”

#antonio dawson x reader #antonio dawson imagine #antonio dawson #chicago pd

[artemiseamoon]

A Little Bit Of Hope 2

* F reader x Santi (past?) | * F reader x Omc

Words: 2,544 | warnings: mention of panic attack

An: male oc is a healthier non-bad guy Billy Russo & runs a security firm. You know how i very briefly mentioned a Miller brother may have feelings? Well, we see more of that this chapter.

Fic info || previous || next

Flashback - 4 years ago

Walking into the boxing gym, you let your eyes wander, taking in all the renovations. The last time you were here was years ago. It was during a party celebrating your Grandfather taking over the lease. He did some boxing back in his day, and made this place his pride and joy over the last few years.

“There she is!” Your grandfather rounds the desk, leaving the front desk attendant mid sentence to greet you. He draws you into a hug, “I heard you were moving back.”

“It’s true, I’m here.” You replied.

When the hug breaks he takes a good look at you. “Looking strong, healthy. I’m so glad to have you back, kid. Come to my office.”

You walk together toward the office. The place looks good. As you pass by the boxing ring, you feel a set of eyes on you, eyes that feel different than the other guys checking you out. You turn to steal a glance of your admirer and capture a pair of sultry brown eyes with your own.

He’s standing outside of the ring, hyping up a blonde guy. To his left is a tall muscular blonde, to his right, a guy with dark curly hair tucked under a hat.

As the handsome stranger takes you in with his eyes, the gym suddenly becomes hotter. You tear your eyes away first, and continue to follow your grandad to his office.

After catching up for a while, you decide to leave and check out an apartment you liked online. The gyms emptied out a bit and the group of four you saw earlier is now dispersed, everyone doing their own thing.

Slowing your pace, you take in the view ahead of you. It’s the dark haired man, working out with a punching bag. He looked good, real good, and worked the punching bag with fluid mastery. His form, his body, his muscles, you even steal a glimpse of his ass in his shorts. The grunts he’s making as he goes do little to calm your quickened pulse.

Just before you pull your eyes away, he catches you. In response to your voyerisum, he flashes a heart stealing smile while continuing his work out. You smile back and head for the door.

The air feels good as you step outside and close the door behind you. Still thinking about the hottie, you head to your car and fish your keys out of your pocket. Then you hear someone behind you.

“Hey,” he catches up, out of breath and dripping in sweat. The sleeveless shirt and exercise shorts he’s wearing leave little to the imagination, “wait up a sec.”

You lean against the car and twirl your keys, locking eyes with him. He’s even better upclose.

“I’d like to take you out sometime.”

There it is, that smile again.

“What if I have a boyfriend?”

He smirks, leaning in a little closer, “do you?”

“Maybe.” You replied.

“Santiago, call me Santi,” he extends his hand. It's hot when you shake it. Before he releases your hand, he brings it up to his lips and kisses it, his soulful eyes locked on yours.

“Okay Santiago,” you continue to admire the sight before you, “I’ll sleep on it.”

“Please do.” He inches a little closer. He was hot, hot as hell but at the same time you were a little weary of these types, they were usually playboys and that's not what you wanted.

Still, you were tempted. You move toward the driver's seat door and open it. “See you around Santiago.”

He chuckles and stops leaning on your car. “See you around hermosa.”

…

Two weeks ago

This would be the perfect time for your phone to ring, or to get a text and you can pretend it’s a phone call. A co-worker set you up on a blind date. Normally, you’d say no. But Santi was creeping up in your mind again. You needed a distraction.

You were doing fine, great actually, until you found that damn shirt. The frayed, vintage Metallica t-shirt he had for years. The one you’d slip on and wear so much, he just let you have it. The one he swore he would never, ever give away. You were going through some boxes in the back of the closet the other day, and found it shoved into the farthest box.

That triggered a rollarcaoster of emotion and memories for the last two days, and led you to say yes to this date. The guy was okay but there was no spark, no connection. You found yourself listening to the music in the background, even singing the lyrics in your head.

“So you work with Jen?” Your date asks.

“Yeah, we work together.” You respond, trying your best to make eye contact with him.

He starts talking about his work and your eyes drift again. You missed that feeling, the one Santi gave you. How, even across a crowded gym, he took your breath away. As your thoughts drift to Santi again, you hear a laugh that catches your attention. Your eyes scan the room until you find the owner. Across the way, at a table of 4, you match the laugh with the handsome man facing your direction.

When he notices you noticing him, he grins and you nearly forget to breathe. He was handsome, really handsome. Even though he was sitting, you could tell he’s tall. He was well dressed, with dark features and a 5’oclock shadow.

To your surprise, the man doesn’t look away, he keeps his eyes on you. Feeling nervous under this intense gaze, you break eye contact first. Over the course of your date, you and the stranger steal glances of eachother. Each one makes heat rise in your body, your heart beats faster.

When your date draws to a close, the handsome man is still engaged with his group. On the way out, you steal one more glance of him before leaving.

…

The following day, your work plans take a detour. Instead of working at the office, your boss asks you to fill in for her. You take the client meeting and head to the address. The place you worked handled events, your specailty was designing the look and feel. However, you were also one of the few she trusted to step in for her, even if the negotiations part wasn’t really your job title. Since the upcoming event is for some big names, the decision was made to hire private security.

Arriving at Anvil, you pass security and take the elevator to the 14th floor. After giving your name to the front desk attendant, you take a seat. This building was fancy, even the couch you were sitting on looks expensive.

Feeling your phone vibrate, you pull it out of your jacket pocket and take a glimpse at the screen. Your eyes are cast down when the glass doors open again, followed by the receptionist's voice.

“Good morning, Mr. Russo. Your 9 am is here.”

Lowering your phone, you look up and offer a small smile.

“Good morning Ellen,”his words are addressed to her, but his eyes are focused on you. He lowers his coffe and takes a step closer to you, “You following me?” He asked with a grin.

Your full smile breaks through, “you wish.”

He chuckles, licks his lips and nods his head toward his office door. “Come on. Follow me.”

When you enter the office, you notice how nice it is. If it was possible for an office to be both sexy and professional, this was it. As soon as you both are seated, you get right to business.

The meeting moves along, the two of you finding an easy back and forth as you discuss the event and security package your boss had in mind. During the meeting, his gaze is just as sultry as it was last night, it makes it near impossible to focus.

By the end of it, he signs off and offers you a discount.

“Why the discount?” You asked.

“I’m hoping you’ll join me for dinner.” He smirks, “ I know. Unprofessional but,” he shrugs, “what do you say?”

Pretending to mull it over, you bring your finger to your chin, “hmm.”

“Anywhere you want, anywhere.” He gets up and circles the desk to move closer to you. You watch as he leans back and crosses his arms casually.

Then you think of it. There was a new place that opened in town. You weren’t really one to hunt down fancy places but everything you passed it, you peaked through the window. There was no way in hell you’d pay those prices for dinner, but…

When you mention the name, Billy laughs, “I can get you in. I can get you in tonight.”

“Wow, you have it like that?” Impressed, you lean back, smiling at him.

Billy chuckles, “I’ll pick you up at 8.”

…

Today (after seeing Santi at the cafe)

The wait for your ride feels like it takes forever, but in reality it wasn’t that long. While you waited, you kept looking back to see if Santi followed you. One of the things about letting him in over the years, meant he knew all of your favorite spots. Including the bench outside of your favorite bookstore.

When the car pulls up, you feel instantly relieved. You had a great support system in the guys, and you knew, even with the Santi drama, they’d take care of you. While in the middle of a panic attack, there were only two people you’d call, Will or Benny Miller. Frankie had a family and you’d feel guilty calling him up, while knowing if you needed him, he’d show too.

Though you could count on all of them, your first call for emotional support was usually Will. Trusty and reliable as ever, he picked you up and drove you home. Back at your place, you and Will sit in the living room.

“You want anything to drink?” You asked him, while sitting across from him.

“I’m good,” Will leans forward, resting his elbows on his thighs. His blue eyes full of concern, “how you feeling now?”

“Better. Thank you, “ you lower your gaze and busy yourself fixing the necklace around your neck, “i was just freaking out you know, I didn’t know what to do.”

“It’s okay, “ Will assures you, “it’s a lot, him being back. You were overwhelmed.”

You nod and sign. “He can’t keep doing this to me.”

The way your voice cracks causes Will to frown. It was a tough place to be, he was their brother, and you were family. Seeing you hurt crushed them.

Everything falls silent for a while. Though you feel Will’s eyes on you, you keep your eyes down. Feeling a mix of embarrassment over the panic attack and dragging him away from his day.

“I appreciate you coming to my rescue,” you force a smile and finally look at him, “thank you.”

“Anytime, I’m here for you. All of us are…” he trails off like he wants to say something else but doesnt. He keeps the rest to himself, leaving you curious about what could have been said.

When your phone vibrates, you contemplate ignoring it. It could be Santi using a new number. After the third buzz, you reach for it. The smile on your lips as you read the message catches Will's attention.

Your eyes move over the words.

Billy: found another ridiculous place to eat, you down?

(he sends a photo)

When you glance up at Will, he stands and excuses himself. You watch him disappear down the hall, toward the bathroom.

You feel a little bad, the look of disappointment on Will’s face is hard to ignore. Before you can think about it any further, your phone dings again with another photo from Billy. The prices on the menu nearly make you drop your phone. You reply,

You: Omg there better be gold in the food. I don’t think I even own anything for a place like that.

Billy: Fuck it, let’s go. You, me, a bunch of rich snobs. I’ll buy you a dress.

You: You don’t have to do that.

Billy: I want to. Choose.

(he sends three links, all to clothing places you’d never shop at. You made good money, but not that much money.)

Billy: Pick whatever you want, I’ll order it tonight.

A giddiness takes over you. You’ve only been dating Billy for a few weeks now but everything was going smoothly. You even pinched yourself once, to make sure it was real.

When Will returns, he doesn’t sit down.

“Are you leaving?” You asked, standing and leaving your phone on the couch.

“Yeah. I’m going to head back to the gym. Unless you need me to stay.”

“You’ve already gone out of your way, I don’t want to hold you.”

Will offers a half smile and opens his arms. You step closer and hug eachother.

“Be gentle with yourself alright.” Will says before stepping away.

“I will. Thank you, Will.”

Will grins and heads down the hall, he closes the door gently behind him.

…

That night - at a local bar - Santi and Will POV

Santi leans forward, looking at Frankie from under his baseball cap.

“Is she seeing anyone?”

Frankie glances over, then back ahead at the bar. He didn’t want to get involved in this. Santi’s his best friend and you’re the sister he never had, he was highly protective of both of you and mad as hell at Santi for putting you through all this. He often wished the two of you never got involved, everything would be so much smoother.

Frankie spins the beer in his hands, ignoring the penetrative stare of his friend. He keeps his eyes on the bottle in his hands.

“I don’t know man.” He answers honestly.

He didn’t. If you were, you didn’t tell any of them. Though the guys had their suspicions, you seemed pretty upbeat lately and harder to hang out with over the last few weeks.

“I know she is,” Santi says darkly. He picks up his shot, knocks it back, and slams it down on the counter, “I can feel it.” He frowns then pulls his cap off.

“Maybe it’s better Pope,” Frankie looks at his friend, “you and her, it’s never been …” Frankie sighs, trying to find the right words, “smooth, not for long man. I love you both, but it’s a mismatch. What she wants, you don’t want - “

Santi cuts him off, “ No. Not true. Not anymore. I do want those things, “he keeps his eyes steady on Frankies, “I want them with her.”

Frankie parts his lips, starts to reply, then stops. Instead, he brings the beer back to his lips.

“I fucked up Fish. I gotta make it right. For real this time. I’m not leaving until I do.”

Frankie observes the seriousness of his friend, and knows he’s not lying. “And what if she doesn’t want that? What if she wants to move on, with someone else?”

Santi shakes his head and breaks eye contact. Frankie observes him, then takes another swig of beer.

Next & final chapter

Tags (those who interacted with chapter 1) @princessxkenobi @peoniarose @nicklet94 @corrabell @kailan-sunshine @soft-persephone

#santiago pope garcia #Billy Russo #fic: a little bit of hope #Santi x f reader #Billy x f reader #Will miller #Frankie catfish Morales #friend Frankie x reader #triple frontier guys

[eievuimemes]

THE BAD GUYS BOOKS SENTENCE STARTERS

“[name] is in danger!”

“[name]...you’re shape-shifting.”

“[name]? Can you hear me? Just keep at it!”

“A little piece of my old life.”

“All this power…I know it’s great and everything, but…”

“As nice as it would be to run away from all this…I have no choice. I have to go straight toward it.”

“Back off, man!”

“Be thankful I’m letting you live.”

“Deep down you’ve always known what you are.”

“Does he seem…different to you?”

“Don’t feel sad yet, soldier.”

“Dude, that’s harsh.”

“Get up here.”

“Hang in there, [name].”

“He loves you. Just…talk to him.”

“He shot straight through the concrete ceiling!”

“He’s too far away.”

“I could just die.”

“I do worry about you. We all do.”

“I don’t want to hurt you!”

“I have to get out of here.”

“I hope this doesn’t have anything to do with that button I pushed!”

“I hope you can hear me!”

“I like your T-shirt.”

“I might have an idea.”

“I must have had a dream or something.”

“I need you to cut it out.”

“I really hope this is safe.”

“I really wouldn’t worry.”

“I RULE WITHOUT MERCY. But at the same time, I’m super fun to be around.”

“I tend to annoy him.”

“I think you might be wrong about that one.”

“I will destroy them all!”

“If there’s one thing I know about dinosaurs, it’s this - if you don’t move, they can’t see you.”

“If you don’t mind me saying, you seem very troubled.”

“Is that him?”

“It certainly seems a little intense in there.”

“It feels like I’m being…drained…”

“It seems that none of you fully understand how much danger you’re in.”

“It’s like he’s become the leader.”

“It’s like if our life was some kind of series, then that part probably would have happened around Book Six.”

“It’s time to play outside for a bit.”

“I’d like to ask a favour.”

“I’d rather die good than live bad.”

“I’ll see you on the other side.”

“I’m afraid things are going to be a little more difficult than we thought.”

“I’m exactly where I need to be, and so are you.”

“I’m going to throw up.”

“I’m going up there to help [name].”

“I’m SO EXCITED you’re here, [name]!”

“I’m the answer to your prayers.”

“I’m up here and you’re down there.”

“Knuckleheads. Everywhere I look, knuckleheads.”

“Let’s just wait until morning.”

“Like this isn’t hard enough!?”

“Maybe we should get moving if we can.”

“Oh, c’mon. Lighten up.”

“Oh, man. You must have hit your head hard.”

“Oh. Cool.” [pause] “WHAT!?”

“Release my friends.”

“Sit back, relax, and enjoy this globally televised event.”

“Snap out of it, buddy!”

“So we just have to get to the basement?”

“So, what’s the play?”

“Sometimes the scariest-looking creatures can be the kindest and best of all.”

“So…you probably have a few questions.”

“That probably makes you nervous, doesn’t it?”

“They call me [name] around here.”

“This is a VERY bad idea.”

“This is what I was afraid of…”

“This place is pretty horrible.”

“This was YOUR idea.”

“Time to take a bow.”

“To us, he’s still a kid.”

“Too much power for one little room.”

“Trust me now.”

“Trust your instincts.”

“Try not to die, I guess.”

“Warning, schmorning. Do your worst, you dimwitted hero wannabe!”

“We are just, like, totally over him.”

“We sat up all night trying to think of the stupidest name in the history of stupid names, and - bam! - there it was.”

“We should all be careful not to judge others simply by the way they look.”

“Well, it’s a bit more complicated than that…”

“We’ll annihilate them for you.”

“We’re just doing our thing.”

“We’ve been over it a MILLION times.”

“What!? That’s not even a thing!”

“Why are you even HERE!?”

“Yeah, he’s here. Geez. Get over it.”

“You don’t need them.”

“You seemed like you were in a pretty good place!”

“You tell us, fur-brain. What’s your next big idea?”

“You there! Freeze!”

“You will return to normal.”

“Your entire life, you’ve felt destined for something more.”

“Your power drains you, doesn’t it?”

“Your spending is totally out of control.”

“You’re going to move around a whole lot.”

“You’re not mad about all the bad stuff we’ve done in our lives?”

“You’ve still got it.”

#rp meme #sentence starters #( big batch incoming!! ) #( i did 8 of these books & got 1000+ lines out of it so KGHFKG )

[dallas-owns-my-ass]

i don’t think people understand how COMFORTABLE it makes me when they roll the r in my name

#Like respectfully all the white teachers I have say my name kinda with like a southern accent even tho we in ny idk why 😭 #But my Spanish teacher even tho he’s a whole gringo always rolls the r in my name and it makes me so happy #So basically if you want me to love you just say my name right and play with my hair #That’s it #yo i need a t shirt with that on it and maybe I’d have a love life lmaoooo

[storiesforallfandoms]

a bit of excitement ~ bucky barnes;mcu

word count: 1811

request?: no

description: in which he feels responsible for dragging his wife into a dangerous mission, but she loves a bit of excitement

pairing: bucky barnes x female!reader

warnings: swearing, smut

masterlist (one, two)

I pulled the hair brush through my still wet hair as I stood in front of the full length mirror. Everything about being in that place felt wrong to me. Maybe because it was owned by the man that ripped my friends apart, but more likely because that same man had been in jail for killing a literal king and framing my husband for it.

So yeah, it wasn’t a great living arrangement currently.

I hadn’t been on a mission in five long years. It was strange to be back in this situation, but at the same time it felt weirdly comforting. Like coming home after so long away. Although, being on the run with a bounty on my head, not to mention the eventual “conversation” we were going to have with the Dora Milaje, wasn’t my dream way of going back to work.

Placing my brush aside, I changed from the towel that was wrapped around my to one of Bucky’s discarded t-shirts. It smelled like him, and it wrapped me in warmth, almost like he was actually there.

As if reading my thoughts, I felt someone lightly brush my hair from my shoulder and Bucky’s soft lips place light kisses there. I smiled and leaned back against him as he wrapped his arms around my waist.

“I love seeing you in my shirts,” he said, meeting my gaze through the mirror. “Especially when I know there’s nothing underneath.”

“Then you’ll be delighted with the information I have for you.” Bucky smiled and continued to kiss my neck. “Any word on Karli or her band of terrorists?”

Bucky groaned as he buried his head in my neck. “Ruining the moment, babe.”

“Sorry, but yo know this is how I am when I work. Especially when my life, and my husband’s life, is on the line.”

Bucky raised his head to look at me again. “Nothing yet. Sam thinks he has a lead, but convinced me to go to bed so we can work on it in the morning.”

“I have to agree with him. You need rest, Buck.”

His face was sullen then. He couldn’t bring himself to look at me and his thumbs were absentmindedly tracing circles against my stomach. I put one hand against his, which finally brought his attention back to me.

“What’s on your mind, soldier?” I asked.

A small smile crept on Bucky’s face at the too familiar nickname I had taken and made more loving. “I’m sorry I dragged you into this.”

I turned in his arms to face him. “What do you mean?”

“If it weren’t for me you’d be home, safe, not having to worry about this mess I’ve caused - ”

“Stop.” I cupped Bucky’s face, making him look down at me. “Don’t talk like that. I’m here because I want to be. If you weren’t involved I’d still be here with Sam if he had called. I want to stop Karli, to save whoever else I can save. That’s who I am. Having you here with me is just the icing on top of the cake.”

Bucky nodded and pulled me in so my body was pressing against his. He rested his forehead against mine, his face so close that I could feel his breath against my face. I just wanted to kiss those soft lips until I physically couldn’t anymore.

“Besides,” I added, “the past five years have been too boring. I need a bit of excitement in my life.”

Bucky chuckled and finally closed the space between us, pressing his lips against mine. I wrapped my arms around his neck and got onto my toes so I could reach him. I had forgotten the lack of anything underneath his shirt until I felt Bucky’s flash hand squeezing my bare ass cheek.

“Jump,” he breathed against my lips.

I did as he said and jumped into his arms, wrapping my legs around his waist. I could already feel his boner poking through his jeans against my naked core. He cradled my back effortlessly with his metal arm as his flesh hand was still cupping my ass, He carried me over to the bed and gently laid me down on the soft mattress.

Bucky broke away from the kiss long enough to sit up and pull his shirt over his head. I couldn’t help myself from reaching up and running my hand over his muscular chest and torso. He chuckled before leaning down to kiss me again.

I shivered as I felt his cold metal hand slowly trailing up my thigh and slipping under the shirt I had on. Bucky had always made sure to be gentle with his left arm, especially in these intimate settings. He was always worried about being too rough and accidentally hurting me with it, but honestly, I thought it was really hot. The first time he had wrapped his cool metal fingers around my throat, forgetting that it wasn’t his flesh arm, I nearly came from the action alone.

He placed soft kisses against my neck again. His body was pressed against mine and I could feel his boner desperately trying to pop free from his jeans. He was pulling the shirt over my head, leaving me completely bare beneath him. I reached between us to pop open the button on his jeans and desperately attempt to pull them down.

“Need some help?” he asked, his voice husky with lust. My words stuck to my throat, so I just nodded in response. He smiled and pulled away from me again so he could pull off his jeans and his boxers.

His body was warm as he pressed against me again. I could feel the tip of his dick poking at my entrance, but he wasn’t pushing all the way in just yet. One hand slipped underneath me, holding me, while the other took hold of his shaft and started to tease my already slick hole. I whimpered, trying my best to keep quiet. The last thing I needed was for Sam, or worse, for Zemo to hear the two of us having sex. Sam would never let Bucky live it down, and Zemo would probably use it as some form of leverage over us.

I wrapped my arm’s around Bucky’s neck and my legs around his waist, my hips bucking in a desperate attempt to finally feel him inside of me.

He chuckled. “Someone’s desperate.”

“And here I thought you were going to be fair this time,” I retorted.

“Oh, I’ll be fair, doll. I just like to see how needy you get for my hard cock.”

He seemed pleased with himself as he felt me becoming even wetter.

I gasped as I finally felt his tip push past my folds and into me. I buried my head in his chest to muffle the pleased moans that were spilling from my lips. Bucky had his bottom lip pulled between his teeth to try and muffle his own sounds of pleasure as he pushed himself all the way inside of me.

He wrapped his arms around me and lowered his head onto my shoulder as he slowly began to grind himself into me. One of my hands clawed at his back, no doubt leaving thin lines that would be blood red against his skin in the morning, while the other ran through his soft hair. I kept my legs wrapped around his waist, keeping him buried deep inside of me.

Contrary to the numerous jokes Sam liked to make, Bucky was still old school in his ways of love making. He would always prefer to be slow and gentle, to savor every moment he was inside of me, and I never complained about it. Bucky always made me feel so much pleasure every time we were intimate. There was one time I swore I saw stars from how hard he made me orgasm.

Bucky’s arms slipped out from underneath me so he could prop himself up on his elbows and look down at me. I was captivated by those beautiful blue eyes that I had fallen in love with that I couldn’t look away.

“You’re so beautiful,” he said. “Fuck, I’m so lucky to have you.”

I tried to respond, but once I opened my mouth all that came out was a breathy moan. Bucky smiled and leaned down to capture my lips with his.

“I love you,” he mumbled against my lips.

“I love you, too,” I responded. “F-Fuck Bucky, I’m so close.”

“Let me feel you cum around me,” he encouraged. “Tell me when, doll, I’ll have to muzzle you.”

That was enough to make the pressured feeling building within me finally break. I tried to stutter something out, but my mind went completely blank as I felt myself clutching around him. Bucky put a hand over my mouth as he increased the speed of his thrusts just enough to get himself off as well. He groaned softly as I felt his warmth filling me, causing my eyes to roll back into my head.

Bucky laid on top of me for a while, the two of us breathing heavily as we were still tangled up with one another. I ran my hands through his hair and kissed whatever skin I could reach as he rested against me. It was hard to let him get up when he finally pulled away, but I knew we couldn’t exactly stay like that all night.

He got up long enough to turn off the light, leaving the room dark except for a slight light coming from the full moon outside. When he slid back into bed next to me, I immediately curled up into his side.

“You’re right, I should take you on missions more often,” Bucky joked. “If I’m gonna be partnered up with Sam so much, I may need someone around to help me blow off a little steam.”

“I don’t think you’re the one who’ll be blowing if I’m around,” I said. “But I do like the idea of working with you and Sam. We could be a little trio.”

Through the dim light I could see Bucky screw up his face at this. “Nevermind, I don’t like the idea of being partnered up with Sam and my wife. I can’t handle that much bullying.”

I giggled and rested my head against Bucky’s chest. I listened to his steady heartbeat as my eyes began to grow tired. I felt myself starting to lull off to sleep when a thought crossed my mind.

“Hey Buck?”

“Yeah baby?”

“We’re gonna have to wash these sheets, or burn them or something. Zemo’s gonna kill us if he finds out we had sex in one of his beds.”

I could hear the amusement in Bucky’s voice as he responded, “He’s going back to jail soon, he doesn’t need to know.”

#Bucky Barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes smut #james buchanan barnes #Sebastian Stan #sebastian stan imagine #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan smut #The Falcon and the Snowman #tfatws #marvel #mcu #the winter soldier #Winter Soldier #imagine #one shot #smut #fanfiction #fanfic #fandom

[hornime]

home workout | bokuto koutarou x gn!reader

“i’d let you do- do anything. anything you wan’ to me. i’m yours. all- all,” his voice raised a few octaves as the inside of your thighs brushed past his cockhead, “yours. all yours.”

warnings: 18+, sub!bokuto, jealous!reader (i mean who wouldn’t be when bokuto, your goddamn boyfriend, is perceived by other people the fuck), also lowkey possessive!reader, lotsa licking and sucking, nipple play, some praise (from reader) and some begging, brief mention of dacryphilia, kinda soft at the end

w/c: 1.5k sheesh

a/n: bokuto brainrot has me in literal tears. him being completely clueless to people flirting w him cus he doesn’t recognize romance from anyone but you has me so soft. i luv this man w my whole heart !!!!! ALSO THANKS FOR ALL THE LOVE ON THE BAKUGO FIC I JUST ABOUT SHIT MY PANTS WOOWWOWO

you weren’t an idiot. you knew that your boyfriend was attractive in literally every aspect of the word. he was sweet, patient, and kind, and what he lacked in academic smarts was made up tenfold in his emotional maturity and ability to read people. big and beefy, bokuto was all yours and all you wanted to stay trapped within his arms forever. unfortunately, to maintain the figure you adored so much and stay in shape for the volleyball season, he had to leave the four walls of your shared bedroom far more than you liked, having a daily obligation to spend a few hours at the gym.

once again, you weren’t an idiot. the few times that your work schedule and his training schedule aligned, you’d been able to work out together. and despite your knowledge of just how good-looking bokuto was and the fact that other people could perceive him (much to your chagrin) you were shocked at just how much people shamelessly flirted with him. 

cute girls with matching leggings and sports bras practically clung to his biceps, gushing about how strong he was and how he could probably pick them up with just one hand. their incessant giggling, mesmerizing hair twirling, and teasing touches pissed you off to no end, and you’d tug your boyfriend away before their breasts got too close to him for your liking.

something else you noticed was that, no matter how blatantly obvious the girls seemed to be, the guys were somehow worse, flirting through terms you couldn’t even understand. they compared deadlift weights, bicep curls, hip thrusts; you gritted your teeth thinking about whether they’d ever compared cock sizes in the locker room—you wouldn’t put it past those thirsty gym rats. sneaky bastards.

and bokuto, of course, was oblivious to it all. how could you blame him—he was so used to being adored! you knew that, to him, all of their praises paled in comparison to yours, but you couldn’t help but feel jealous. he was all yours—should be all yours—and you hated sharing him with the world.

you woke up saturday morning with a ringing in your ears, hand smacking the nightstand trying to turn off that god-awful alarm noise, bleary eyes barely able to focus on the text notification from your boyfriend.

[5:33 AM] kou: gm babe!!!! i didnt wanna wake u up cus u looked so peaceful! im heading to the gym rn. text me when ur up! love uu

[5:34 AM] kou: should be home around 9!! gym bud wants to show me something so i might be a little late for breakfast.

just to reiterate, you weren’t an idiot. for all the annoying flirting you noticed when you were with bokuto, there was no doubt in your mind that there must be a lot more when he was at the gym alone, which, unluckily for you, was most of the time since he was a freakin’ pro athlete and all.

you couldn’t prevent the pool of envy from swirling in your gut. gym bud? are you serious? who could that be? the girl with the arm tat or the dude with the dreads? no, maybe its that yoga instructor with the ass—

you shook your head, clearing your brain. you’d be here for hours if you went through everyone at that stupid gym that had ever shown interest in bokuto. the clock read 9:53 AM and the green flame in your body only burned brighter. just as you were about to call him and ask where he was, the front door slammed open.

“babe! i’m home!”

you silently put your phone down, teeth still clenching in jealousy. for some reason, hearing his voice only exacerbated the tension in your shoulders. you needed him. now.

“babe?” his voice creeped closer as he tread through the hallway towards the room. “you up?”

you peeked your head out of the doorframe, cheery voice masking your devilish intentions, “kou!"

his eyes brightened as he made eye contact with you and flashed his trademark smile. “hey! what’s u-” he took in the mischievous glint in your eyes “-p?”

you grabbed his burly forearm, yanking him behind you and walking towards him, forcing him to stumble and fall back on the bed. “wait! i’m all gross and sweaty,” he said, “gym showers were broke-”

“i don’t care. take off your shirt.”

“wow, someone’s eager. missed me that much?”

“watch it,” you glared. “i’m not in the mood, kou.”

he gulped at the dominance radiating from your voice, scrambling to take off the t-shirt that stretched between his pecs perfectly. with the fabric off and throw haphazardly to the side, he looked to you expectantly, the epitome of innocence.

your eyes wandered over his sculpted chest, the remnants of a soft sheen of sweat from his workout making it shine in the sunlight pouring through the blinds. your heart stuttered in your chest—he looked like an angel. coupled with the way with his bottom lip was tucked under his front teeth and the wide, anticipating look in his eyes, fuck. you almost smiled how blessed you felt in that moment, to see him in such a raw, alluring position, before a jarring thought caused your lips to twitch back into a frown.

everyone else can see him, too.

your eyes hardened. maybe they can see him all big and strong, you thought, but they’ll never get to see him like this: submissive.

and so fucking sensitive.

within an instant, your lips were latched on the soft spot above his collarbone, causing him to whimper in pleasure. you continued to travel along his throat, slowly working your way to the other side of his neck and crossing back to nibble at his adam’s apple.

you unexpectedly pulled away, drawing a short whine from him, before repositioning yourself so that you were straddling his outstretched legs. slowly, starting from the hem of his shorts, you dragged your tongue between the ridges of his abs, moving up towards his pecs, tasting the saltiness of his sweat and feeling the muscles tense underneath.

“fuck,” he groaned. as your lips puckered around one of his peaked nipples, he uncontrollably jerked his hips up, inadvertently rubbing his sensitive cock between your legs. overwhelmed by the sensation, he moaned. “fuck.”

“you taste good,” you muttered, grazing your teeth over his other nipple. “just wanna taste you all the time. you’d let me, right?”

thoughts muddled by just how good everything felt, he nodded mindlessly. “i’d let you do- do anything. anything you wan’ to me. i’m yours. all- all,” his voice raised a few octaves as the inside of your thighs brushed past his cockhead, “yours. all yours.”

you paused. raising your head from his chest, you made eye contact with him, so intense he almost closed his eyes to shield himself from the blaze burning in your dilated pupils. “why’d you stop,” he begged, “i want more. feels so good and i wan’ mor-”

“say it again,” you demanded. “tell me that you’re mine.”

his eyes, glossed over and prickled with tears precariously close to falling, squeezed tightly as he spoke, unable to control the growing volume of his voice. “’m all yours. always. all yo- yours.” he gasped as you resumed your movements, pinching the sensitive skin around his v-line while fervently leaving sloppy kisses on his chest. 

“good boy.”

he keened at your praise. another light touch to his cock combined with the passage of your mouth had him trembling, and his breath hitched as he cried out in warning, tears now flowing freely over his flushed cheeks. “m’ gonna cum, ‘m gonna, gonna cum.”

“yeah?” you whispered, lips brushing against his strained abs. “go ahead then.”

“fuck!” he whined, blabbering as you sat back and watched in awe of the beauty before you, a big strong man like him reduced to nothing more than a moaning mess. “fuck, fuck—you always make me feel so, s-so go-od, fuck i love you.”

with soaked shorts and an exhausted sigh, he dropped his head back onto the plush comforter of the bed. you flattened your palms on his quivering body, reeling from the aftershocks of his orgasm. he panted, running his fingers through your hair before nudging your face to look at him, staring at you with an expression of pure bliss and adoration. he studied you for a bit before declaring with a soft smile, “you’re the best. so fuckin’ happy that i’m yours.”

driven by affection, he sat up and reached his arms around your waist, snuggling his chin over your shoulder and mashing your chests, yours clothed and his naked, together. “kou wait!” you shrieked. “you’re all sweaty again! it’s gross!”

he chuckled. as if you hadn’t been spoiling him by licking it up just a few minutes ago. “you’re right. i‘m probably sweating more now than i was after my workout.”

at that, your ears perked up. “well maybe you should do home workouts more often then,” you teased.

“you’re right,” he repeated with a grin, “maybe i should.” if it meant more mornings like these, he’d forego the gym in a heartbeat. 

that night, he canceled his gym membership. after all, he reasoned, it’s offseason anyway.

© property of hornime 2021. do not plagiarize any of my writing and do not repost/copy my writing onto any other sites.

#i jus wanna lick him clean #sue me #kinky.inky #haikyuu smut #hq smut #haikyuu bokuto #bokuto smut #bokuto x reader #koutarou x reader #bokuto

[there-must-be-a-lock]

Play Pretend

Spencer Reid x (gender neutral) Reader

Word Count: ~4170

Warnings: I don’t think there are any? Some language. Egregious amounts of fluff. A blanket fort and a Star Trek onesie. Gratuitous descriptions of Spencer Reid’s bone structure, because apparently I can’t help myself. 

A/N: For the “treat yo’ self” square on my @cmbingo​ card, and also for @railmereid​‘s 2k challenge! Prompt for the latter is bolded.

It’s been a godawful case, and in the BAU, that’s saying something. At least nobody ended up in the hospital this time? But as you all troop onto the jet in a straggly line of wrinkled clothes and puffy eyes, that’s about the brightest spot you can find in this whole fucking week. 

As you get settled, though, Hotch clears his throat. “Your attention, please. We’re taking a long weekend, Strauss’s orders.”

“Oh thank god,” you mutter under your breath.  

“Once we get back and grab our things, you are not to return to the office for a full seventy-two hours.” Hotch looks sternly (well, even more sternly) at Spencer, who’s on the couch next to you, curling up for a nap. “Understood? And you are not allowed to take case files home, Reid. I mean it this time.” 

“Understood,” he says grouchily. You can’t help but laugh at the pout on his face. 

“Seriously?” you ask. 

He shrugs, lips quirking up like he does actually realize what a ridiculous human being he is. “I have many talents, but ‘taking it easy’ is not one of them.” He does the air quotes, even.

“All those PhDs and you never got a degree in relaxation?” 

“That’s not—” He realizes you’re teasing and grins. “No. No I did not. I just… never really know what to do with myself, I guess?” 

“Shocking.” 

“What are you going to do, then?” 

“I am going to have a treat yo’ self day,” you declare proudly. 

“A what?” 

“You know, like in Parks and Rec?” He gives you a blank look. “No, you totally don’t know. Of course you don’t. But there’s this one episode where two of the characters have a ‘treat yo’ self’ day, and they go shopping and get, like, really self-indulgent things that they wouldn’t ordinarily buy themselves.”

He frowns. “You’re going shopping all weekend? You’ve never struck me as a particularly materialistic person.”

“Fuck, no. It’s more about indulging in experiences. Self-care. Things that make me feel relaxed. Just… whatever makes me happy.”

“Like what?” He still has this totally puzzled look on his face, with his nose wrinkled up. It’s so much more endearing than it has any right to be. 

“I like painting. I’m not good at it, but I like it, so I’m gonna get some new paints and a big canvas and make a mess, because it makes me happy.” 

“Huh.” 

“What about you, then? What do you do to relax?”  

“That’s… a good question, honestly.” 

“Well, what’s your idea of a perfect day?” 

Maybe it shouldn’t surprise you that self-care is a foreign concept to him. You wait patiently as he overthinks it.

“Perfect seems unrealistic,” he concludes wryly. 

“So, like, remember when you were a kid and you walked into a really awesome toy store?” you prompt. “Just feeling that sort of carefree, giddy kind of happy?” 

“Not really.” He shrugs. 

“What did make you feel like that, though?” you ask. “When you were younger? There had to be something.” 

“I think I just — I didn’t do much normal kid stuff.” He lets out a huff of a laugh and runs his hands through his messy curls, suddenly self-conscious. “Didn’t get to play pretend, or… I don’t know. Didn’t have time.” 

“Right,” you say softly. “Sorry.” 

“Nothing to be sorry about.” 

You nod, throat suddenly tight. “Yeah. Get some sleep, Spencer. Sweet dreams.” 

He gives you a tired half-smile and tugs his blanket up to his chin, tucking his hands under his cheek, and the dark hollows under his eyes are hidden by his long lashes as he falls asleep almost immediately. You need to rest too, but it takes you a while; you sneak a glance at him every so often, feeling that twist under your breastbone that happens all too often when you’re around Spencer. 

By the time the jet lands, though, you have a plan. 

* * * * *

You second-guess your plan approximately a thousand times on your way over to Spencer’s the next morning. When you get to his door, you almost convince yourself to walk away before you manage to knock; is this totally presumptuous? Is Spencer going to think you’re ridiculous? Is the whole thing just plain stupid? 

Then again, you were stupid enough to fall for Spencer in the first place, so. What’s another stupid decision on top of that whole mess? 

When he opens the door, he’s wearing pajama pants, a t-shirt, and a phenomenally hideous bathrobe, and he’s all messy-haired and sleepy-eyed, and for a moment you’re panicking because oh shit I woke him up. It’s almost noon, to be fair, but he did have some serious sleep to catch up on. Then you notice the coffee mug in his hand, and after a moment of relief, that morphs into more of a oh shit he’s so fucking beautiful type of panic. 

You’re used to that, though. 

Then you realize he’s staring at you, smiling but puzzled, and you haven’t explained yourself. Oops. 

“Um. Trick or treat yourself day?” you blurt out, hoisting your shopping bags and giggling at your own lame joke. “I… brought you something. Sorry, I didn’t mean to surprise you — I should’ve texted, I just—”

“You’re always a good surprise,” Spencer says shyly, and then seems to shake himself. “Come in. Sorry. Coffee?” 

“Please.” 

You set down your shopping bags and follow him to the kitchen, where he fixes you a mug of your own — exactly how you like it, because of course he remembers. Then he takes a couple deep gulps of his own sugar-sludge and tops it up, and by the time you go back out to the living room, he’s starting to look vaguely awake. 

“What’s all this about?” he finally asks, head cocked to look curiously at the bags. 

“Well,” you start slowly. Now that you have to say it out loud, it sounds even more stupid. “I was thinking a treat yourself day would be a lot more fun with company, and it seems like… maybe you’re overdue for some of that? For… self-indulgence, and just, like, enjoying yourself without worrying. And you deserve it. So. You wanna?” 

His eyes are soft and bright, oddly vulnerable, and a smile spreads slowly across his face, twitchy at the edges like he’s not sure he’s allowed to smile yet. 

“Really? I don’t know what to do, though.” 

“Well, I have some ideas about that. But first, you gotta make a deal with me.” The way he’s beaming makes you feel a whole lot more confident as you tell him, very seriously, “This is the sacred covenant of treat yourself day. You have to solemnly swear to do whatever you want. Anything you can dream up. Indulge every whim. Take an oath to give in to every one of your silly, random, frivolous desires, without any form of self-denial or doubt. Can you do that, Spencer?” 

“I can try,” he says, and his voice cracks. It’s like he can’t shape the words, with the way his smile has taken over his entire face. 

“Okay, good enough. And… I have a few ideas.” 

“Like what?” 

You shrug. “Like… some things I thought maybe you didn’t get to do as a kid? Here, let me—”

You rummage until you find what you were looking for, and then you turn around, holding it out like an offering. Spencer’s mouth drops open. 

“Is that a Captain Kirk costume?” he asks squeakily. 

“It’s a Captain Kirk onesie,” you correct. “And it’s for you.” 

“Holy—” 

He shucks the bathrobe and sets down his coffee hastily, and he’s zipping the onesie up before you can say “Beam me up,” looking down at himself with this joy on his face, totally giddy in a way you’ve never seen him before, and holy hell, even if he hates the rest of your ideas, this will be one hundred fifty percent worth it for the memory of that smile on Spencer’s face. 

“I have one too,” you admit, and pull your Chewbacca onesie out of your backpack. Once you’re both appropriately attired, you tell him, “Next order of business is cartoons.” 

“I don’t actually have TV?” he says apologetically. “I mean, I have a TV, but it’s only for —” 

You grin. “I came prepared, though!” 

Spencer’s the only person you know who still has a VHS player, but you’ve been holding onto some things you rescued from your parents’ attic a while back; you find your VHS of Tom & Jerry cartoons and wave it at him triumphantly. 

“I’ve never watched that before.” He examines the cover, bemused. 

“It’s essential viewing.” 

“Okay,” he says slowly.

While he performs whatever arcane ritual makes his ancient TV work (there’s like a rain dance and an animal sacrifice involved, you’re pretty sure) you settle on the couch, nesting in all the blankets and sipping your coffee contentedly. Spencer presses play and sits down next to you, but you can feel his uncertainty; he’s holding himself stiffly, and he keeps sneaking glances at you. 

“Spit it out,” you tell him, a few minutes in. “If you hate it, you can just say so, Spence. I won’t take it personally.”

He shakes his head. “It’s not that! I just — is this really how you want to spend your Saturday?” 

“What do you mean?” You have a Chewbacca onesie, a perfect cup of coffee, and great company; you’re not entirely sure how this could get any better. 

“Doing nothing,” he mumbles. “This is… there are so many things you could be doing. Don’t you have a whole list of things you wanted to do? But instead… I don’t know. You’re here. With me.” 

Sometimes you want to scream until he realizes how awesome he is, but the screaming is probably not the best way to convey that particular message. 

Instead, you keep your voice very quiet as you tell him, “There is absolutely nowhere else I’d rather be right now.” 

It’s a little too true. Your cheeks burn as you turn back to the TV, trying not to dwell on the way you can see him watching you in your peripheral vision. 

“Okay,” he says hoarsely. He settles himself more comfortably into the blanket nest, and before long, he’s giggling along with you. 

You watch in peaceful silence for a little while, but at some point, Spencer’s stomach growls, and you pause the tape to make food — chocolate chip pancakes with whipped cream, as per his verdict on “ultimate treat food.” As it turns out, he knows a lot about the science of cooking, but not a whole lot about the actual practice, so he sits cross-legged in a chair and directs you to various cabinets as you measure and mix and whisk. When you get the batter poured out on the griddle, he’s pattering on about the chemical differences between baking soda and baking powder. 

He looks utterly dismayed when the first chocolate chip hits his forehead. Turns out his lack of hand-eye coordination applies to mouth-eye coordination too, and the floor is littered with semi-sweet projectiles before he actually catches one, but he’s laughing, so you really can’t bring yourself to care. 

The pancakes are a total success. When you’re both stuffed and sugar-high, you grab the syrupy plates and bring them to the sink for a quick rinse. 

“You don’t have to,” Spencer protests. You ignore him. His next words are much softer, scratchy and hoarse: “Thank you. I don’t — just — thank you.” 

“Nothing to thank me for,” you say briskly. Then you turn around, and you freeze, because he’s a whole lot closer than you thought he was; he’s right there, close enough that you could reach out and run your fingers through his hair, or trace the sharp line of his jaw. 

He has a tiny streak of whipped cream at the corner of his mouth, right where his lips curl up as he smiles, and for a second you can barely breathe with how much you want to stand up on your tiptoes and see if he tastes as sweet as he looks. 

For a second he looks like he wants you to. He’s frozen too, for a moment, and you can hear his breath catch, but then he scoops you up in a hug, squeezing tight. And yeah, it’s just friendly, but it’s a hug from Spencer, and that happens rarely enough that it feels like a treat of its own, so you go with it, forehead pressed to his shoulder, heart racing.

When he releases you, you tell yourself you’re not disappointed. 

“Right,” you say, bossy to cover how flustered you feel. “Back to business.” 

“I think I need more practice sitting still,” Spencer confesses, following you back out to the couch. “It feels weird just… not doing anything.” 

You pause, deliberating. “Well, we could keep our hands busy?” 

With a quick rummage, you produce paint and an extra large pad of paper, holding them up for Spencer’s inspection. He frowns. 

“I don’t have any paintbrushes.” 

“They’re finger paints,” you say, grinning, and he laughs. 

“Of course they are.” 

You set everything up on the coffee table while Spencer presses play, and the two of you sit down on the floor, side by side. Spencer looks down at his onesie, then at the paint, frowning. 

“It’s all washable, Spencer.” 

“Still,” he mumbles. “I don’t want to take it off, but —” 

He unzips the onesie halfway, peeling the arms off and letting the fabric bunch up around his waist. 

“There we go, putting that genius brain to work,” you tease, but you’re touched that he cares enough about your present to worry about stains. 

It’s hard to ignore how close you’re sitting. You do your best, keeping your eyes on either the TV or your masterpiece of Abstract Expressionism, but Spencer’s knee is pressed to yours, a constant warm pressure, and your hands keep brushing as you both reach for containers of paint, and you can smell him, like vanilla and maybe old books. The whole thing has you feeling flushed. 

Other than that, though, it’s comfortable. It’s always been easy to talk to Spencer, which makes sense considering how much he knows about every subject imaginable, but it surprises you sometimes how easy it is not to talk to him, too. Silence isn’t awkward, with him. Neither of you say anything for the next hour or so. You just giggle at the TV and paint, wordless and companionable, and it’s the happiest you’ve felt in… longer than you care to admit. 

Life is rarely perfect, especially not in your line of work, but this? This is pretty close. 

As the credits start to play, you stretch, and then you look at his paper. It takes you a second to recognize yourself, but the likeness is unmistakable. Spencer’s got the exact angle of your eyebrow when you’re looking at him skeptically — apparently you do that often enough that he’s memorized the expression. He somehow managed to capture your smile, the curve of your lips, all in tiny delicate pinky-strokes of purple and turquoise… trust Dr. Spencer Reid to bring that level of precision to finger-painting, and oh god you are not going to think about his fingers any more. 

“Do you like it?” 

“Yeah,” you manage. You clear your throat. “Yeah, I really do.” 

Then he makes it worse by rubbing the side of his neck, bashful and self-conscious, smearing blue-green paint from his collarbone to the sharp line of his jaw, and he’s so busy smiling at you that he doesn’t seem to notice. He swallows, and his Adam’s apple dips, shifting a streak of color, making it flicker. It’s such a silly thing, but it draws your attention to his skin — makes you want to touch. Worst of all, it reminds you that he’s already art, that the shape of him, the delicate precise way he’s put together, is more beautiful than anything you’ve ever seen in a museum. 

It reminds you that you want some things you can never, ever have. 

“You’ve got — um,” you say, gesturing helplessly. He blinks at you, slow like he’s coming out of a trance, and tucks his hair behind his ear, smearing more paint there before he remembers. You giggle, sharp and nervous, and it breaks the tension all at once. Spencer laughs too, rolling his eyes at himself. You get up clumsily to go grab a wet paper towel from the kitchen. 

The moment is gone, but your heart is still racing. 

“What’s next?” Spencer asks softly, once you’re both cleaned up. 

He missed a tiny spot; there’s a blue smudge right at the corner of his jaw, and you want to touch it, feel it under your fingertips, see if the skin is as soft as it looks, right there where the bone stretches it thin. 

“Blanket fort,” you blurt out, before you can do anything embarrassing. 

His eyes light up. 

It really shouldn’t surprise you that Spencer and his engineering PhD make quick work of a pile of sheets and clothespins. You’re pretty sure that he could revolutionize the entire field of blanket fort construction, if left to his own devices, but you keep poking him when he gets lost in his head or starts muttering calculations to himself. The point is having fun. 

The end result is a lot more Frank Lloyd Wright than any of your childhood creations, but Spencer looks absolutely gleeful, so. It’s the spirit of the thing. 

“One more thing,” you say. “Do you have any Christmas lights?” 

Spencer frowns. “I don’t — oh! Wait!” 

He runs to the closet, and he ends up halfway inside the closet, digging around on his hands and knees. You’re about to make a crack about Narnia when he comes out, holding up a box with a triumphant smile. 

You read the label: “Halloween decorations 3 of 4.” 

Because of course Spencer Reid has Halloween lights. He pulls out several long ropes of them; a couple are shaped like tiny skulls, one is strung with Jack-o-Lanterns, and two could pass as Christmas lights if they weren’t orange and purple. You help him detangle the knot of them and drape them over and through your fort, and when you turn out the normal lights and draw his heavy curtains, the whole thing glows in patches of orange and purple and white. 

“After you,” you tell Spencer, and he crawls in without any more prompting. 

There’s more than enough room to sit up, but Spencer is lying down on his back in the nest of blankets and pillows that you’d relocated from the couch. He’s staring up at the “ceiling” in silence, eyes glittering with some unreadable expression where they catch the twinkling shards of light. You make yourself comfortable next to him, looking up and wondering what he’s seeing. 

“I always wondered what the appeal was,” he whispers. “Of blanket forts. And… childhood in general, I guess.” 

“You grew up pretty fast, huh?” you say quietly. 

“Yeah. And I never — I feel like most of the team doesn’t take me seriously sometimes. Like I’m still a kid to them. I always feel like I have to prove myself.” 

Your instinct is to deny it automatically, but you know what he means. They laugh him off for his quirks, for the way he gets excited about things and for the things he gets excited about. That’s what’s so incredible about him, though: that dichotomy of knowledge and curiosity, the breathless excitement when he makes a discovery.

“I liked pretending I had my own little world,” you tell him. “Blanket forts. Felt like I could actually shut all the bad things out.” 

“Still feels like that,” he says, and you can hear the smile in his voice. 

“Nothing wrong with acting like a child, sometimes. We need that. Even if it’s just pretend.” 

“I think I get it now.” 

“Hmm?”

He’s silent for a long moment before he says, “In here, everything’s perfect.” 

“Or we can pretend it is.” 

You turn your head to find Spencer looking at you, and he doesn’t look away when your eyes meet. You barely want to blink for fear of breaking whatever spell you’re under. 

There’s something raw and earnest and almost scared shining all over his face, like you’re catching a glimpse of the child he used to be, before the world taught him to put on a brave face and keep his most intense feelings to himself. It makes you feel shaky in ways you were really not prepared for. 

There’s a heavy moment of silence. You’re painfully aware of how loud your breathing sounds. 

It’s a hell of a thing, to have his focus like this. You fell in love with him watching him work; you know how intensely he can devote himself to a task, to a puzzle, to a map… and every so often, when the two of you talk, he focuses all that brilliance on you, and he listens so completely that you feel his attention like a spotlight. 

That’s when he usually looks away, dropping his gaze like it’s something to be embarrassed about, because too many people have told him to stop staring. 

He’s not looking away now. He turns onto his side to completely face you, curling up in that sweetly childish way with his hands between his cheek and the pillow, and you mirror him.

“Feels like we’re alone.” 

He’s right; there are no distractions, no excuses to be made, no interruptions. It’s just the two of you, and it’s terrifying. 

“Feels safe,” you whisper, because that’s true too. Your heart is racing, and it’s like you can hear your pulse in your ears, but it’s the quietest sort of panic you’ve ever felt. “I think that was exactly what I wanted, after the last couple weeks. To get away. To feel safe.” 

There’s an orange light throwing most of his face into shadow, but you can see the corner of his mouth a little too clearly. You’re maybe a foot apart. It would be so easy — 

“We don’t get that often.” His voice is barely more than a breath. 

“Safety?” 

“That too, but —” His breath hitches, and he clears his throat. “What we want. I don’t usually get what I want, but this was — this was very close to perfect.” 

“Yeah, well, when is life ever perfect?” You manage a smile. “What would make it perfect? If you could have anything.”

“It’s not something I can have, though.” 

“So pretend. It’s just us, and there are no rules today. What would it be?”  

He bites his lip. “I don’t think —” 

“For once in your life, Spencer, stop overthinking it,” you half-laugh, and then he’s propping himself up on one elbow, shifting forward, leaning closer, close close close until he’s all you can see, and —

He kisses you. 

It’s the most gentle, feather-light brush of a kiss you’ve ever felt, barely more than a graze of his parted lips over yours. It’s there, and then it’s gone again before you can even begin to process the sensation. 

As your eyes flutter open you can already see the fear setting in, dark intense gaze fixed on you as he inhales sharply. 

You’re still trying to remember how to breathe; you’re too stunned to react beyond blinking at him. 

“I’m sorry. Can we just —” He shakes his head, hand over his mouth like he’s trying to hold onto the kiss. “Do you think we could pretend — can we pretend I didn’t do that? I’m so sorry.” 

“I don’t want to pretend,” you say shakily.  

He stares. 

This doesn’t seem real. It’s such a strange moment that you might as well be trapped in a Dali canvas. There’s fingerpaint on his face, and he’s wearing a Captain Kirk command uniform onesie, and there’s a tiny Jack-o-Lantern glowing over his head. If you’d imagined the “perfect” moment, this would not be it. 

But you reach out, running your fingertips over the dark smudge of paint on his jaw, and the skin is hot and smooth. He shivers at the touch. It’s real. 

“Spencer?” Your throat is tight, but you manage a choked, “I want you to kiss me again.” 

He does, with a careful hand cupped to your cheek and a smile curling his lips when they meet yours. You run your fingers through his hair, and you both laugh when they catch on dried paint. 

“Perfect,” he whispers. 

It really is. 

.

.

.

#renswritingchallenge #cmbingo21 #criminal minds fic #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fluff #cm fic #criminal minds #spencer reid

[oreomonsterhunter]

“Now get your shoes on, you big idiot”

Pairing: Johnny x reader (or OC)

Word Count: 1259

Genre: fluff

Warnings: language?

Summary: Johnny accidentally confesses his feelings for his best friend

You hadn’t seen Johnny in ages, so when he called you, even though it was almost midnight and you were so ready to go to bed, you answered without a second thought.  “Hello handsome,” you grinned, blinking sleepily.

“Oh sh—it’s late, I’m sorry,” Johnny grimaced.

You waved him off.  “I missed you,” you said simply.

“Missed you too, dork,” he said, smiling through the screen.

“Ok, so tell me everything, are you eating enough?  Sleeping enough?  Do I need to come and beat up your manager?”

There was that laugh you’d been missing.  “I’m fine, it’s the usual song and dance.  You know how it is—just packed schedules these days.”

You frowned at him, “I know, we haven’t met up in weeks.  Some bestie you are.”

“Hey, you better not replace me,” Johnny narrowed his eyes.

“If I did, I’d replace you with Mark,” you teased.  “Maybe Doyoung.  Or do you know BTS?  Can you introduce me to Jimin?”

Johnny groaned, “I know I’m not your bias, but you don’t have to rub it in every chance you get.”

“Shut up, everyone’s a Jimin stan, they just refuse to admit it.”

“This is what I get for having friends outside the industry.”

You snorted, “I’m your only friend outside the industry.”

“Are not.”

“Am too.”

Johnny grumbled, resigning himself to changing the subject, rather than engaging in another argument he had no hope of winning.  You smirked at your victory.

Thirty minutes later, though, your eyelids were drooping.  Johnny noticed right away, nose practically pressed to the screen.  “Hey, sleepy, time for bed,” he whispered dramatically.

“Nuh uh,” you shook your head, snuggling back into the pillows.

“Hang up, come on.  It’s late, you’re tired, I’m tired.  But you can sleep in tomorrow and I can’t.”

You pouted, “No fair, I’m coming to yell at SM.”

Johnny just laughed at you again.  “Alright, seriously go to bed.”

“You first.”

He sighed, shaking his head, “You’re so annoying.  Hang up and get some sleep.”

“Nope, you first.”

Johnny glared playfully, “No, you.”

You giggled back, “No, you.”

“I love you.”

“No, yo—what?” you blinked.  Johnny gaped back at you, face turning redder by the second.  His mouth opened and closed, and then he made a face and ended the call.  “Goodnight,” he muttered, and then your screen went dark.

You gaped at the screen.  He really just hung up on you?  After saying...wait, wait, hold up.  Had Johnny seriously just said he loved you?  Was that a confession?  A shitty confession, you deserved better.  Was it an accident?  Oh my gosh, what if he never meant to say that, had you imagined it?  No, he was way too nervous for that—

You shook your head, ignoring the thoughts spiraling in your tired brain.  How could you sleep now?  Only one thing to do—go to the source.

That’s how you found yourself at Johnny’s door sometime after one in the morning, wearing mismatched socks and sweats with holes in the ankles, and your shoe half falling off.  You smashed the doorbell again, sure that Johnny must be awake, he was just ignoring you like all the texts you’d sent on the way over.  He had his read receipts on, for goodness sake.  You could tell he was ignoring you, that big lug.

Finally, the door cracked open.  You opened your mouth to yell at him, but the look on his face stopped you.  And you knew.

Everything you wanted to say dissolved, and you couldn’t do anything but smile at him.  Those damn butterflies were back, you felt like you’d float away.  “Wanna go on a walk?”

That got Johnny to open the door.  He whipped it open, glaring at you, totally different from the unsure expression a few seconds ago.  “Are you crazy?  It’s late, go home, okay?  Actually no, it’s late, you shouldn’t walk on your own.  You can sleep on the couch.  Heck, I’ll take the couch and you can take the bed.”

Your smile only grew, watching him ramble the way your brain hadn’t stopped rambling since he hung up on you.  And you felt your thoughts drift into silence.  “I love you, too.  Now get your shoes on, you big idiot.”

For a moment, neither one of you moved, and you wondered if you broke him.  Furrowing your brow, you opened your mouth to ask him, but that’s when he moved.  Large hands cupped your jaw the way you’d been dreaming about, and his nose brushed yours oh so gently, and then your lips met.

And Johnny proceeded to, for lack of a better phrase, kiss the snot out of you.

Your knees wobbled, and Johnny walked you backwards without breaking the kiss, backing you up against the wall.  You gasped, trapped between the brick and the solid mass of Johnny in front of you.  Johnny pressed his advantage, diving deeper into the kiss.  He tasted like toothpaste, you noted distantly, too distracted by the feel of those lips.

He was only wearing a t-shirt outside, and the heat of him threatened to burn you, yet you couldn’t keep away.  You fisted the thin material, fingers brushing up against rippling muscle beneath, and pushed impossibly closer to him.  What you would give to just melt into him.  Johnny groaned softly, rocking forward and biting your lower lip.  His thumb brushed over your cheekbone, softer than you thought possible.

Then Johnny tensed, pulling away from you.  “I’m sorry, wait a second.  I should have asked,” he started to ramble again.

You shook your head at him, sweet boy.  Mama Suh had raised him well, but he was still dumb sometimes.  That’s why you loved him so much.

You didn’t bother trying to explain; you simply twined your arms around his neck and yanked his lips back to yours.  This time, it was your turn to nip at him, insistent that he resume that steamy kiss immediately.

Finally, who knows how many minutes or seconds or years later, you broke apart to breathe.  Johnny pressed his forehead into yours, and you grinned, feeling a bit drunk.  On the lack of sleep or his kisses?  Gosh, you’d just kissed Johnny, your best friend.  And you realized you’d happily kiss him forever.  How had you waited this long?  Or rather, why had you waited?  Apparently you’d been missing out on Mr. Pillow Lips for years.

As your breathing calmed, you opened your eyes, looking up to meet Johnny’s gaze.  He blinked at you, and your smile bloomed.  “Should we go on that walk now?” you asked, surprised to hear that your voice was a bit hoarse.

Johnny smiled at you, leaning back to look at you properly.  “You and I both need to sleep more.  I promise we’ll go on a walk another time.”

“Just sleep?” you asked innocently, fluttering your lashes at him.

“Just sleep, you menace,” he laughed, slinging an arm around your shoulders and pulling you inside his apartment.  Your grin widened, thrilled that your best friend hadn’t gone anywhere.  You should have known better than to think that Johnny would let things get awkward.

You hummed thoughtfully as he led you through the apartment.  “I could exchange a walk for more kisses, I suppose,” you said, biting your lip.

“I just bet you could, princess,” Johnny smirked.  He let you go to flop on the bed.  When you stood in the doorway, a bit unsure, he propped himself up on his elbows, a twinkle in his eyes.  “But you’ll have to come and get them.”

* * * * *

Masterlist

#johnny fluff #johnny headcanons #johnny imagines #johnny scenarios #johnny x reader #johnny drabbles #johnny fanfic #johnny fic #nct drabbles #nct headcanons #nct imagines #nct fuff #nct 127 imagines #nct 127 headcanons #nct 127 fluff #nct 127 fanfic #nct 127 scenarios #nct 127 drabbles #nct johnny #I’m literally in love w this gif #plain tshirts are sex c and no I won’t be accepting arguments #Johnny+princess

[yanderecrazysie]

Hii Bestie !!

I wondering if I could request the Yandere Alphabet for Bokuto if you haven’t done that already.

💜

HEY BESTIE! I'd love to! Bokuto reminds me so much of an overeager puppy- it's precious-

Bokuto Koutarou (Haikyuu) -The Yandere Alphabet

🦉🦉🦉🦉🦉🦉🦉🦉🦉🦉🦉🦉🦉🦉🦉🦉🦉🦉

Warnings: yandere themes, slight mentions of marking and spanking

A is for Affection: How do they show their affection for their darling? How often do they show it? 💖 Bokuto is the epitome of affectionate. This boy wants to cuddle, kiss, hold hands, WHATEVER he can do 24/7. 💖 Although he'll want to cuddle against you and hold you bone-crushingly close, this boy can also get a little rough. His kisses can be kind of bruising and he'll want to mark up your neck a lot. B is for Blood: How messy are they willing to get for their darling? Why? 🔪 Although I can picture Bokuto being willing to fight anyone who wants to hurt you or take you away, I actually can't see him trying to kill anyone. He's pretty sure he's the best of the best, so it's not like any of those other guys can steal you away from HIM! C is for Care or Cruelty: How would they treat their darling when they kidnap them? Would they mock them? 💔 Bokuto wouldn't mock you. In fact, he'd just be over the MOON about having you with him. You'd be smothered in kisses and crushed in his hugs. He's not going to want to make you feel bad! 💔 Bokuto is the BEST at taking care of you! He knows everything you love and he's willing to get/do ANYTHING just for you! D is for Delusion: How delusional are they when it comes to their darling? Do they believe their darling loves them? 💭 Bokuto is very, very delusional. Like, this boy sees a perfect future with you and he has no doubts that you're both going to get there soon. 💭 He's like the greatest??? You couldn't turn HIM down! He's the amazing ace- Akaashi thinks he's great so you do too! Right? Of course! E is for Expose: How much of their heart do they bear to their darling? How vulnerable are they when it comes to their darling? How much time will it take to trust them? 💧 Bokuto doesn't shut up about his feelings. Going into emo mode? Check. Whining about how much he needs your attention? Check. Letting you know just how much he adores you? Check. 💧 They talk about being an open book but Bokuto is a book you'd want to CLOSE after a while. Like seriously- he. Won't. Shut. Up. F is for Fight: How would they react if their darling fought back? 👊 Cue "kicked-puppy" noise. He's going to stare up at you with wide, watering eyes. You've gotta be completely heartless if you don't feel the TINIEST bit of guilt when you see his heartbroken expression. 👊 "I-it's okay (Y/n), I forgive you, I love you, please don't fight me, please..." he's all but begging you, even after you stop fighting. He's clinging to you and sobbing into your shirt. 👊 Your flailing fists and feet aren't actually going to do any damage to that buff man but just the idea of fighting against him leaves tons of emotional scars in your wake. G is for Guilt: What would it take for them to feel guilty about their actions? Or do they feel guilty from the start? 😔 Bokuto feels bad that he went to the extremes. He KNOWS it's so so so wrong... but it feels so so so right. He LOVES you and that's the best thing, right? That makes up for everything, right? 😔 He won't ever regret his love for you though. If he has you in the end it'll be worth everything and more! No regrets, WOOO! H is for Hell: What would be their darling’s worst experience with them? 🔥 Bokuto can be a little... well... his emotions are extreme and can flip quickly. So if he's angry enough, you could get hurt. Like, he's not going to seriously injure you, but he'll be rough. You'll be shaking in your shoes for sure. I is for Ideals: What kind of future do they have in mind for/with their darling? 👩‍❤️‍👨 If Bokuto has his way, you'll be his pretty little wife and mother of a bunch of his runts. This boy will want at LEAST 3 kids. Like I picture him being that "cool dad" that roughhouses with his little boys and carries them on his back and just jokes around with them. He's practically a giant kid himself sometimes. J is for Jealousy: How easily do they get jealous? Do they lash out or find a way to cope? 💢 Bokuto gets jealous if your attention is taken away from him. Platonically, romantically, whatever. If someone's

taking your attention and it's not him, he's gonna be PISSED. 💢 Suddenly, Bokuto is 10x needier than he's ever been. He's trying to catch your gaze, interrupting your conversation, clinging to you, etc. 💢 I mean, this boy will get jealous of a video game or TV show or book you're invested in. Not just humans. Animals too... Your attention should be solely on him, ya know! K is for Kidnap: How would they go about kidnapping their darling? How much do they plan it out? 🔒 Bokuto doesn't plan- it just kind of happens. He knew he wanted to take you away from all those attention hogs (ironic) and keep you with him and him only, but he didn't really THINK about it. It just kinda happened. 🔒 Okay, but seriously, I think he might even be more surprised than you when he kidnaps you. Like this guy's just kinda like "WOAHHH This isn't a dream? I actually did this? HEY HEY HEY" L is for Love Letters: How would they go about courting or approaching their darling? 💌 One moment you're living your normal life, the next moment there's Fukurodani's ace cooing at you and you forgot to say your last goodbyes to that normal life you'll never see again. 💌 I don't think Bokuto knows how to court, to be blunt about it. Like, Akaashi might try to give him some pointers ("You're overwhelming her." "Give her room to breathe." "Try never saying that again. Ever." "Stop, you're crushing her.") but Bokuto's pretty sure he's got this in the bag. M is for Mask: Are their true colors drastically different from the way they acted before? 🎭 Bokuto's emotions are so over the map that no one's going to really tell that he's kind of losing it. Akaashi might be able to tell, but no one else will notice a difference. 🎭 Other than his overwhelming happiness and affection for you. I mean, you'd have to be blind and deaf to not realize Bokuto has a huge crush on you. He's not even remotely subtle. N is for Naughty: How would they punish their darling? 🚓 Bokuto might try to isolate you a bit but if you make him angry- like really piss him off- I think he'd literally just bend you over his lap and spank you. Like, maybe that's weird, but I can really picture him trying to brat-tame you a bit. O is for Oppression: How many rights would they take away from their darling? What rights can be earned with time and trust? 📜 Although Bokuto's kind of overbearing and suffocating, as long as you're in his line of sight and, preferably, being touched by him, you can do whatever you want. Which... isn't a lot when he's hanging on you 24/7. P is for Patience: How patient are they with their darling? 🕊️ Patience is not one of Bokuto's virtues, unfortunately. If you take too long in the bathroom, he'll come bursting through the door. Like, this boy can't stand a full 5 minutes away from you. Having privacy is not realistic, so don't get your hopes up. Q is for Quit: If their darling dies, leaves, or successfully escapes, would they ever be able to move on? 🏃‍♀️ If you die Bokuto will go into emo mode for the rest of his life. He will be completely broken without you. He's so lost without you. You know that story where the dog waited by his owner's grave for the rest of his life? That's Bokuto. 🏃‍♀️ "Escape"? Yeah, no. Bokuto gets it, you wanted a little freedom, but it's time to come home, okay? You've already had more than enough time to yourself, so he'll come find you. And once he does, you're sure as hell never leaving again. R is for Rage: How do they act when angry? How do they calm down? 👿 "Explosive rage" is the best way to describe Bokuto's anger. You CANNOT calm him down, so it's best to book it and barricade yourself in a room until he cools down. 👿 If he's mad enough, he could hurt you, so stay the fuck away from him. He'll be throwing and breaking things and just generally yelling his head off. Again, barricade yourself in a room, it's honestly your only hope. S is for Soulmate: What made them fall in love with their darling? How did they first meet? When did they realize they loved their darling? 💍 Bokuto truly is a

love-at-first-sight kind of guy, but he fell in love with you even more as he got to know you. You either met at one of his games or in some sort of shared class. I think that you would have stood out to him in a crowd. T is for Tears: How do they feel about seeing their darling scream, cry, and/or isolate themselves? 😭 Each tear falling down your face is another crack in Bokuto's heart. He really does want you to be happy and he can't understand why you aren't. His solution is to just hold you tight until you calm down, which may not help all that much... U is for Unique: Would they do anything different from the classic yandere?

👌 Bokuto is already kind of different from the others in the way that he's not afraid to put you in your place and he has plans for the future that don't really require your cooperation. He's not changing his mind, no matter how strong your feelings are one way or the other.

👌 Not to mention, he's SUPER clingy. You can't pry him off of you. There's a strong possibility that you'll end up being very, very miserable with Bokuto. He loves you but he isn't willing to compromise or meet halfway on anything. His love is kind of selfish... more so than the average yandere.

V is for Visit: Would they allow anyone else to visit their darling? Do they trust their darling to talk to their loved ones (in person, on the phone, etc.) or not at all?

🧳 Akaashi will be over often. Like, I'm not even going to pretend like Bokuto will doubt his BFF. I really don't think Akaashi will be there to save you, unfortunately...

🧳 But Akaashi doesn't get to touch you. Sorry. You belong to Bokuto and, any attention you give Akaashi, you better give 10 times that to Bokuto.

W is for Weakness: What weakness can their darling exploit in order to escape?

❌ You're lucky enough if you can detangle yourself from Bokuto's grip for more than 5 minutes, but, if you do, you can use very few things against him anyways. He's nothing but determined.

❌ If you're delicate and careful about it, you may be able to take advantage of his emotions. Fake sadness to gain his pity or get him so happy that he'll be less likely to deny your requests.

X is for Xoanon: How much would they revere or worship their darling? To what length would they go to win their darling over?

🛐 He's a bit of a worshipper, but not the classic type. He ADORES you and thinks you're absolutely perfect but... he doesn't exactly put your needs above his own. Like I said, he's a bit selfish.

Y is for Yearning: How long do they pine after their darling before they snap? 😍 It depends on how receptive you are to him. If you're trying to distance yourself from him and keep your freedom (or you just aren't interested in him that way), he's going to snap FAST. You'll find yourself in his house before you can say "HEY HEY HEY". 😍 Otherwise, if you start dating him, it'll depend on if you realize the toxicity of your relationship. If you try to break up with him or loosen his suffocating grip, you're in the same boat as if you denied him in the first place. Z is for Zero Tolerance: What is the thing that always makes them snap? What things will they not allow their darling to do under any circumstances? 0️⃣ Leave him. If you deny his affection and love, he will not be happy at ALL. He wants to wrap you up in his arms and never let go. And he really doesn't care if you don't want that. 🐣🐣🐣🐣🐣🐣🐣🐣🐣🐣🐣🐣🐣🐣🐣🐣🐣🐣🐣🐣🐣🐣🐣🐣🐣 THAT TOOK SO LONG I'M SO SORRY- I feel like I portrayed him to be a little worse than he is- he really does love you!

#yandere #yandere haikyuu #yandere bokuto #yandere alphabet #haikyuu!! #bokuto

[honeypiehotchner]

intelligence & issues (Hotch x Fem!Reader) -- chapter eighteen

Helloooo I almost posted this yesterday as a thank you gift and then I totally got caught up in schoolwork. Gotta love finals season am I right

Anywho, thank y’all so much for 1.7k followers <3 Here’s a long ass chapter that’s a good ol’ mix of fluff and angst xx.

Chapter Warnings: waking-up-together kinda fluff, no sexytimes but there are some ~suggestive~ comments of course, ANGST at the end (i’m so sorry), the end of this case is very near on the horizon

Previous chapter || Fic Masterlist

Aaron wakes you when his first alarm goes off at 5a.m. It’s way too fucking early in your opinion, but you know he wants you to have time to go back to Emily and JJ’s room to get ready for the day.

Still, being woken by a kiss on your forehead is something you can see yourself getting used to. Not to mention using his chest as a pillow all night.

You tilt your head to capture his lips in a sweet kiss, not caring that the both of you probably have disgusting morning breath right now.

He pulls away first, nudging your nose with his before he rests his forehead on yours, looking deep into your eyes. “Good morning, sweet girl.”

You can’t help the smile that splits your lips. “Good morning.” You close your eyes in your flustered state, burying your face down into his chest. “I don’t want to leave.”

“I want you to stay,” he whispers, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “But we’ve got a job to do.”

“I know,” you sigh, opening your eyes to bring yourself back to reality. Then, you hook your arms around his neck, starting to grin. “Same thing tonight?”

He smirks, wrapping his arms around your waist. “Depends on how much of a good girl you are today.”

“Ooh, a challenge,” you tease. “I dunno…I’m feeling pretty bratty this morning.”

You feel his arm tighten around your shoulders, drawing you closer to him in warning.

“I’m just teasing,” you murmur, propping your chin on his chest, giving him your best eyes.

But he isn’t fazed. “I know. I’m keeping track.”

So, naturally, you pout. “Fine.”

“Strike two.”

“I have a feeling this isn’t like baseball. Three strikes and I’m out?”

“Are you trying to find out?”

“Mm, maybe?” You grin, but, as always, the FBI Agent part of your brain comes back to life. “If we didn’t have to be downstairs soon, I’d say yes. But I probably should go get dressed.”

“Understood,” Aaron replies, a small grin on his lips too. “I suppose even as your boss, I can’t keep you here.”

“As my boss, we’re technically not even supposed to be in the same bed together,” you remind him with a snort, but seriousness comes over him. “What?”

“We still need to talk,” he says quietly. “Really talk about this, but right now I just want you to know...I don’t regret this. I want this. No matter the consequences.”

“Me too,” you whisper, fingernails gently scratching the base of his skull, your weak attempt at comfort. “Do you think there’ll be consequences?”

He sighs, and you rise and fall with his chest. “I don’t know.” He pauses. “If Strauss finds out somehow, maybe. I don’t know if keeping it from her until she inevitably finds out is better than telling her ourselves, but…”

“We’ll figure it out,” you assure him with a small smile. “But you wanna do this?”

Instead of answering you verbally, he pulls you closer for a soothing kiss, coaxing all your worries away.

“I want to do this,” he says, knowing you need to hear the words from his voice.

“Okay,” you murmur, taking a deep breath. “What do we do about the team?”

His eyebrows furrow. “What about them?”

You give him a tired look. “Come on. They know.”

“What?” He blurts, sitting up a little, taking you with him. “Rossi knows.”

“And Emily and JJ and Garcia,” you chuckle. “I didn’t even tell them. Emily saw us at dinner one night. JJ figured it out from the phone call a few days ago. Garcia just...knows.”

“What about Morgan and Reid?”

“Are you kidding me? Morgan knows. Have you seen how he irritates the shit out of me every day?”

“Exactly,” Aaron says. “He does it every day.”

“Have you noticed how he’s been doing it especially when you’re around?” You raise an eyebrow. “Come on, you’re our supervisor! I thought you were a better profiler than that!”

“We have a rule not to profile each other,” he says sternly, obviously a little butthurt that he didn’t see that everyone else knew.

“A rule that none of us stick to, by the way,” you laugh. “We just don’t voice it. But we do. Trust me.”

“I didn’t think you’d figured that out yet,” he admits.

“Eh,” you shrug. “It wasn’t hard. I caught myself profiling everyone. I figured I couldn’t be the only one who does it by accident.”

Aaron only smiles. He’s amazed by you every single day. Sometimes he wonders if you even know how intelligent you are. If you even know the full scope of your mind. Maybe you don’t, maybe no one does.

“But anyway,” you swerve back on track. “I feel like it should be unspoken, but just...no PDA, you know? It’s fine that they know because honestly I think they knew before we knew, but let’s not make it a big deal.”

“Agreed,” he nods. “We still need to be professional.”

“Exactly,” you breathe, glad to be on the same page.

His second alarm goes off, the one for 5:30, and you groan, dropping your forehead to his chest.

“Why does it have to be so early?” You mutter, your lips brushing against his skin as you speak. It sends a hot wave through him, one that causes him to promptly shift your body off of him. “What are you doing?”

“You need to go get dressed,” he says. “And if you stay here wrapped around me any longer, I won’t be able to let you leave.”

You grin. “Point taken.”

You roll off the mattress, fully aware that he’s looking at your ass, and at your entire body, marveling at the way you look in his shirt.

“Oh,” you say, doing a dramatic turn, watching his eyes very quickly move back to your face. “Do you have any boxers? I probably shouldn’t walk down the hall in just a shirt.”

He’s scrambling for a pair of his boxer briefs, the thought of anyone else seeing you just like this making his blood boil frighteningly fast.

“Thanks,” you smirk when he hands them to you. And you put them on in front of him, partly for a show and partly because the look he was giving you demanded it. “I’ll see you in an hour or so?”

He nods. “Try not to spend too much time gossiping.”

“Oh, please,” you shake your head. “They’re getting all the details.”

You’re out the door before he can even catch you, and you just know you’re going to get it later.

+++

Emily and JJ are on you as soon as you open the door, both of them dressed and ready, arms folded over their chests like Moms whose daughter stayed out too late last night.

In a way, that’s completely accurate.

“And where have you been?” JJ asks, fully entering her Mom persona.

“Uhm, a friend’s house?” You play along, trying to inch your way to the bathroom.

But Emily knows your move, and stands in front of the bathroom door. “Is this friend named Aaron?”

“...maybe.”

And the façade falls, because they both cheer, pulling you into a hug.

“Finally!” Emily screams.

“Finally, what?” You laugh. “The night before I was also in his room.”

“Oh, we know,” JJ assures you.

“Finally, you admit it,” Emily clarifies. “So...details?”

“So...we have to be downstairs soon and I need to get dressed,” you walk past them to your bag. After grabbing your clothes, you turn back around to find them still staring at you. “What?”

“You’re in his shirt,” JJ says, still smiling.

“And boxers,” you laugh, pulling the hem of his t-shirt up a little. “Guys, don’t make this a big thing.” You pause, heading toward the bathroom. “He was a little upset that I knew everyone knew, and he didn’t.”

“How did he not?” Emily scoffs. “He can be so dense.”

You shake your head, shutting the bathroom door to get dressed.

When you emerge from the bathroom, now dressed and looking more presentable, Emily and JJ are finally getting ready, too. They still watch you like a pair of hawks stalking prey, though. You just hope they won’t make any comments later.

That’s wishful thinking and you know it. But hopefully the comments will be held in at least until you’re all on the jet, heading back to Virginia.

+++

When you walk out of the elevator with Emily and JJ, you find Hotch standing with Rossi, the former looking much more grave than you left him. And he’s on the phone.

“Shit,” you mutter under your breath, picking up the pace. You glance at Hotch, silently asking, and he nods. “There’s another body,” you fill in Emily and JJ, ignoring the strange look that Rossi gives you.

Once Hotch hangs up, he looks immediately at you. “There’s two bodies. Male and female.”

“What?” Emily blurts. “In the same location?”

He nods. “Same house.”

About this time, Morgan and Reid step out of the elevator, jogging over when they see the team’s faces.

“What’s going on?” Morgan asks.

“Two bodies this time, same house, male and female,” you explain briefly.

Hotch jumps in. “JJ: you, Reid, and Y/N head over to the precinct and get Garcia on the phone. Get her to find everything she can on these new victims.”

You nod, glad he’s not sending you to see anymore bloodied bodies. Just the thought has a chill running down your spine.

You don’t want to admit it, but it’s hard not to picture Trevor’s face. It’s hard not to feel the thrill of the possibility of revenge. But you know that’s only the irrational part of your brain. You know you wouldn’t really act on those thoughts.

But they’re still there.

+++

Back at the precinct, you’re dialing Garcia and stirring a cup of shitty coffee. When she picks up, she sounds about as frizzed as you feel.

“Good morning, my angel sent from Heaven,” she sings, sounding far too bright for seven in the morning. “What can I do you for?”

“Good morning,” you chuckle. “We’ve got two new victims.”

“Mm, I know,” she groans, and you begin to hear typing. “Morgan texted me their names, I was waiting for your call.”

“Yep, we just need you to work your magic, that’s all.”

“That I can do,” she replies, no doubt through a smile. “Speaking of magic…”

You already know where this is heading. “Seriously? Who told you?”

“JJ and Emily texted me,” Garcia admits. “But you know I was going to weasel it out of you eventually, anyway!”

“Yes, I know,” you roll your eyes, tossing the coffee stirrer and empty cream and sugar packets in the trash. “Listen, how about this: Once this case is over, we’ll all have a girl’s night at my place with a bunch of junk food and wine, and I’ll give all the details -- whatever they might be at that point.”

You can’t let yourself believe that you’ll still be together because who knows what could happen. Anything could happen. The universe has a bad habit of getting in the way of your love life.

“You know the way to my heart,” Garcia sighs dreamily. “It’s a date. Speaking of dates, it looks like our two victims were married.”

“Married?” You nearly yell. Talk about a plot twist. “And the guy brought our unsub home for a one-night stand?”

“Looks that way so far,” Garcia says with a grimace. “Caroline Merritt, 35, was the CEO of her own company and traveled a lot. It looks like she changed flights yesterday and landed around eleven p.m. She checked her car out of the airport parking lot at eleven forty-five.”

“Great, so she might’ve walked in on our unsub.” You rub your forehead from the stress. “What about the other victim?”

“Jasper Rhodes was 34 and a part-time worker at the local Walmart,” Garcia lists off. “They had been married for three years, but Caroline never changed her last name.”

“Don’t exactly blame her,” you remark. “Alright, which one had allegations?”

“I’m about to burst your bubble, babycakes. Neither of them.”

“Really?”

“Really,” Garcia echoes, just as solemn. “Caroline has a squeaky clean record, aside from one speeding ticket when she was seventeen for going forty-five in a school zone. Jasper also has a clean slate for a record, but he does have one DUI from when he was twenty-two. Nothing else since.”

“It’s been twelve years, so for all we know, he could be sober for a decade now,” you mutter. “Okay. Do they have any connection at all to our other victims? Please say yes.”

“Cross referencing as we speak,” Garcia says, typing furiously. “Almost done… Negative,” she sighs. “I’m sorry, babe.”

“Don’t be sorry,” you shake your head. “Thank you for being such a wizard, as always.”

“It’s my specialty,” she quips. “So...do I get some details about you and Hotch now?”

“Goodbye Garcia…” You chuckle, ending the call before she can ask anything else.

You walk back into the conference room, shaking your head sadly at JJ who looks up with hopeful eyes.

“Garcia found virtually nothing. Caroline got a speeding ticket at seventeen, and Jasper a DUI at twenty-two. Nothing since. And no connection to any of our other victims,” you relay the information, ending it with a sip of your coffee.

“This unsub is good,” JJ says, exasperated. “How is she always three steps ahead of us?”

“She’s not, really,” Reid says, and you can feel something else coming on. “It’s like she knows we’re closing in on her, so she’s going after those who have no reported allegations. She’s not as far ahead as we think, but maybe that’s what she wants us to think.”

“Reid, dude, you’re sounding like a fortune cookie right now,” you laugh. “I get where you’re going with this. But unless they find some DNA at the crime scene, we’re back to square one again.”

“Maybe…” He trails away, getting up to look at the map.

Something is going on in his head, but you’re not sure what. He’ll tell you when he’s finished with it, you’re sure.

In your pocket, your phone starts buzzing. Thinking it’s Garcia, you pull it out and answer without looking, but Garcia’s voice isn’t what you hear on the other end.

“I’m heading back to the precinct,” Hotch says.

“O...kay,” you furrow your eyebrows, mouthing, ‘Hotch’ to JJ. “Why just you?”

“I need to show you something,” he says slowly, like he’s struggling to get the words out. “The unsub left a note.”

“What does it say?” You ask, wondering why it’s like pulling teeth to get him to speak.

“It’s addressed to you,” he finally says, and all the blood drains from your body. “It’s in an envelope and sealed. Your… Your name is on the front.”

You’re not sure what to make of that at all.

“Okay,” you say, your brain unable to really process it. “Okay, we’ll look at it when you get here.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Aaron,” you whisper, pinching the bridge of your nose. “Don’t say that to me. You’re scaring me.” You pause. “What are you sorry for?”

“For this note,” he replies, voice quiet. “For this unsub targeting you, and now for scaring you.”

“What does the note say?”

“I don’t know,” he says. “I didn’t open it.”

“Okay. Just...hurry, I guess.”

“I’m turning into the parking lot now.”

“Okay, see you in a sec,” you murmur, ending the call.

You look up from the phone to find both JJ and Reid staring at you, concern swimming deeply in their eyes. You don’t even have the energy to offer them a reassuring smile. Nothing about this is comfortable for you.

Why would the unsub leave a note addressed to you?

Hotch walks through the precinct doors a few moments later, a man on a mission as he walks directly to the conference room. You’re explaining to JJ and Reid about the note when he walks in, and you fall silent upon seeing him.

He hates that he even called you to warn you, but he had to do something. His mind was racing on the drive. He had to hear your voice, and he knew you were bound to ask why he was coming back on his own, what’s so urgent, so he knew he’d have to tell you.

But the fear in your eyes right now is something he never wants to see again. Ever.

“Where is it?” You say, your voice wavering.

Slowly, Hotch pulls the envelope out of his jacket pocket. It’s in a plastic bag, which is standard protocol for evidence, and you begin searching for a pair of gloves.

You find a pair and start to slip them on, grimacing at the way your hands shake, and using your peripheral vision to see that Aaron is watching you closely.

Once you’re gloved up, he hands you the plastic bag. It feels much heavier than it should.

Carefully, you pull out the envelope, swallowing down the nausea you’re feeling. As Hotch said, your name -- Agent Y/N L/N -- is scrawled on the front in messy handwriting. Fortunately, Reid can examine that, and this letter if it’s handwritten.

You break the seal on the envelope, flinching slightly, and ignoring that you did. But Aaron saw it.

You pull out the note and half of you cries in relief because it is handwritten, and the other half of you feels sheer terror because your business card is taped to the top left hand corner.

“Shit,” you cuss, closing your eyes.

“What?” Aaron asks, taking a step closer, lowering his head to meet your eye level.

“My business card,” you say, opening your eyes again, hating the way things look blurry for a moment. JJ and Reid are just fuzzy figures at the table when you look around the room. “It could’ve been anyone at the meetings. I handed my card to as many that would take it. There’s no way I’ll remember everyone, or even half of them, I mean, I ran out of cards, I had to go stand by Morgan because--”

“Okay, okay, slow down,” Aaron stops you, putting both hands on your arms. “Look at me, please.”

Slowly, the world comes back into focus and you meet his brown eyes, finding your peace there like you have so many other times before. You focus on the weight of his hands on your arms, grounding you, bringing you back.

“I know it’s difficult,” he says. “But you need to breathe.”

You nod, sucking in a deep breath a little too abruptly, not even realizing you had been taking shallow breaths in the first place.

“Good girl,” he whispers, so low that he’s almost mouthing it, careful not to let JJ or Reid hear. And it’s not sexual or sensual this time. It’s comforting. “Can you read the rest of it?”

You nod. “I can help you end your suffering. I can help you avenge. I can help you heal. It doesn’t have to be this way.” You pause, looking up from the note, looking between Hotch, JJ, and Reid. “What does that even mean?”

“Did you talk about your experience during the meetings?” Reid asks.

“A little bit, but I barely scratched the surface of it,” you admit. “And I didn’t mention any names. I might hate him, but...I’d never send a serial killer after him.”

“I know,” Hotch says. “We’re not accusing you of that,” he adds gently. “It’s clear our unsub feels a connection to you now. Something you said must’ve resonated deeply with her.”

“But all I said was that he was my fiancé and that I didn’t report him, so that still gets us nowhere. She’s still a ghost.”

“She’s not a ghost,” he says sternly. “We will find her. You’ve already seen her once.”

“Yeah, but I don’t remember seeing her, Hotch.”

“That doesn’t matter. What matters is she’s reaching out. Which means we’re close.”

“Not close enough,” you protest, tossing the letter back on the plastic bag on the table. “I need to take a walk.” You move toward the door, and he’s following you, so you add quietly, “Alone, please.”

Hotch nods, and watches you go, more worried than he’s ever been in his life.

+++

When Rossi, Emily, and Morgan return to the police precinct, they spot you sitting alone on a bench outside the front doors.

“I got this,” Morgan says, hopping out of the car and heading to you, gesturing for Rossi and Emily to head inside. They share a look and nod, disappearing into the precinct to leave Morgan alone with you.

You don’t even look up from your hands when you see Morgan coming over from your peripheral vision.

“What’s up, kiddo?” He asks, standing in front of you.

“I’m really not in the mood right now, Derek.”

“Too bad,” he shrugs, sitting next to you on the bench, stretching his arm out behind you. “What’s going on? You know I’m just gonna keep buggin’ you until you tell me.”

You snort. “I know.”

“So…” He pauses. “Tell me. It’ll save us both a whole lotta time. And it’ll save you a whole lotta stress, sittin’ there with all that in your head.”

You know he’s right. And you know he’s the only one who really gets it.

So, you tell him what’s wrong.

“The unsub left that note just for me. My card was taped to it, Morgan.”

“And?”

“What do you mean and? It means I laid eyes on her, maybe talked to her, handed her my fucking card, and I still didn’t know it was her.”

“We’re not superhuman, Y/N. We only see what they show us. She probably put on a mask while talking to you.”

“Well now she’s still out there--”

“Listen to me. I ran out of cards too, remember? We started using yours. I easily could’ve given her your card. Hell, I was there with you, I probably looked at her a dozen times, too. Are you gonna yell at me for not recognizing her?”

“No--”

“Then stop doing it to yourself, you hear me?”

“I just… She feels a connection to me. What does that say about me?”

“That you’re a relatable person,” Derek offers, causing you to glare at him. “Hey,” he raises a hand in surrender. “I’m just being logical. It doesn’t say anything about you. Because a serial killer’s view of you is not who you are. You are who you are.”

“Thanks for the fortune cookie.”

“Don’t get that tone with me, kid,” he replies tiredly. “You know you’re not really mad at me, so don’t take it out on me, okay?”

“I know, I’m sorry,” you rub your forehead. “I’m just…”

“It’s not your fault, Y/N.”

“I know that.”

“I know you know that, but you still need to hear it,” he says. “And I’ll always be here to tell you, got that?”

You look over at him with a small smile. “Got it.”

He smiles too, glad to see you’re feeling better. He shoves your shoulder lightly, playfully. “Come on. Let’s get back in there.”

“Yeah,” you nod, standing up.

He walks ahead, but you stay still, wondering if you should even ask what you’re about to ask. But Derek notices your hesitation and turns back around, studying you.

“Spit it out,” he says, knowing there’s something.

“The unsub is trying to talk to me,” you say, shrugging your shoulders nonchalantly. “So...what if we set up a trap.”

“What?” Morgan deadpans, raising his eyebrows, turning his body to completely face you.

“What if we--”

“Use you as bait?” Morgan finishes, incredulity coating his words.

You nod. “I wasn’t going to word it like that, but--”

He scoffs, looking more and more pissed off as the seconds go on. “Hell no. Are you outta your damn mind?”

“No, I’m not. I’m--”

“No,” he stops you, holding up his hand, pointing at you. “Don’t you dare finish that sentence. Don’t go there. We will find this unsub, and we will do it without you sacrificing yourself.”

“I wouldn’t be sacrificing myself!” You protest. “You guys would be there. You’d have my back.”

“We can’t predict everything this unsub will do, Y/N, you know that,” Morgan fires back. “And I’ll be damned if I let you throw yourself into danger like this. It’s not happening. You hear me?”

SIghing, you nod. “I hear you.”

“Have you even told Hotch about this?”

“No.”

“Good. Don’t,” Morgan replies. “You’ll just get a lecture and you and I both know you don’t need that right now.”

“I know.”

He pauses, shaking his head. He steps forward, wrapping you in a hug, eyes closing when he feels you burying your face in his neck. “I love you, kid,” he whispers. “And I know it’s hard, but you got this, we got this. And it’s gonna be okay. Okay?”

“Okay,” you nod into his neck, taking a deep breath. “Yeah.”

Next chapter

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