#(and mutuals always know where to find me + ask box remains open)

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Fully Completely 5

Warnings: non-consent sex and rape (series), violence, mutual irritation, harassment, blood, cutting, general hatred

This is dark!Loki x reader and explicit. 18+ only.  Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Series Synopsis: There’s a new face in Birch and he’s come to haunt your door.

Sister series to Smalltown Bringdown, When the Weight Comes Down, and Little Bones

Note: Today, we have more Loki then tomorrow more Zemo and some Sam on Saturday. I might add in some Andy Barber after that but keep plucking away at this and Candy Coated. Anyway, I’ll see you in the comments and the asks.

Thanks to everyone for their patience and feedback. :)

I really hope you enjoy. 💋

<3 Let me know what you think with a like or reblog or reply or an ask! Love ya!

Chapter 5: Hang me long out in the sun

💀💀💀

You sat against the wall, flinching every time you leaned too heavily on the radiator and burned your arm. You were certain Loki cranked the heat before he left as it was stolid and stifling in the large room. Sweat dripped down your body and mingled with the drying blood along your chest. You were uncomfortable but you didn’t want to get comfortable in this place.

You pulled on your wrist until your hand throbbed and the cuffs showed no sign of wear and the radiator didn’t budge. You stretched across the floor until you could reach the edge of the bookshelf and kicked until some books fell, hoping for some hidden pin or tool to pick the lock. There were only musty old books and dust.

You stood, tried to at least, bent over as you stretched your legs. You did awkward squats and extended your arms to your toes, one at least. You rolled your head on your neck so it cracked noisily and settled back against the wall. You were tired, exhausted, but too worked up to sleep.

It hit you all at once as the stench of smoke clung to your shirt and skin. Your shop was gone, your home, everything you worked for. It was another sick joke played on you by the town of Birch. 

Bucky was just another bully. He was like that boy in ninth grade who asked you to meet him at the park for a ‘date’ only to stand you up. You remembered the Monday after when he planted a stink bomb in your locker. The men around there were all the same. Everywhere if you were to judge by Loki.

You closed your eyes and thought of your dad. You thought he would’ve been proud to see everything you’d done; a shop of your own, a life where you didn’t have to worry. He said to you, through his dying lungs, that he knew you would be alright, that you could take care of yourself and Jerome. What about your brother then? Shouldn’t he take care of you too?

For the first time in a very long time, you wanted to cry. You kept your eyes shut to keep the tears locked in and slowly your mind eased. You sunk down as the warmth of the radiator embraced you, unbothered by the unyielding heat against your arm. You could hear yourself snore as you succumbed to your fatigue.

You were woken by the clatter of the door below. The old Victorian house echoed every noise and shuddered at every gale without. You lifted your head with a snort and sidled away from the radiator. Your arm was tender from the constant blaze of the radiator and you winced as you touched it. Fuck, it was burned.

You braced yourself as you listened to the slow ascent. You heard him behind the door and watched the knob turn. You sprawled out and slid a book closer with your foot. You got up and grabbed it quickly and stood in a hunch. You flung it at Loki as he entered but he quickly blocked the hardcover tome with the door.

He carefully peeked around the wood and stepped back in with a sigh. He shook his head as he crossed his arms and nodded as Korg appeared behind him. The bigger man placed the collection of shopping bags on the table and left with a dismissive sniff from his boss. The door closed and you were left to simmer alone with Loki.

“Such a warm welcome,” he strode to the table and tapped his fingertips on the wood, “and after I went to all the trouble of replacing your wardrobe. A pity all those wonderful pieces you had were lost.”

“I don’t want any of it,” you sneered, “leave me here, I don’t care.”

“Darling, while I find your resilience admirable it is also rather irksome,” he said, “and you will find that in the end, it will only make all this so much more difficult. You needn’t suffer anymore.”

“‘You needn’t suffer anymore,’” you mimicked him, “just listening to you talk is suffering.”

He turned his face down and clenched his jaw. He turned and reached into a bag. He pulled out a swath of black fabric that unfolded to an elegant dress with subtle black gems along the neckline like stars. You pushed your head back and stared at the ceiling.

“I can understand, a woman like you, men aren’t lining up to give you nice things,” he said, “I wouldn’t exactly call this giving, more… trading.”

“Oh, shut up,” you grumbled as you closed your eyes again, “you know, you woke me up so why don’t you keep it down?”

“I did have to guess at the sizes,” he ignored you brusquely, “but I’ve always had a keen eye.”

“You can shove your dresses and whatever else you wasted your money on up your--”

“Darling,” he interrupted, “I will not warn you again. That lip does provoke me.”

You jutted your jaw out and exhaled. You bent your legs and crossed your arms over your knees. You were too tired to argue with him. Hell, it only seemed to make you feel more helpless as you could not act on your anger. You hated that feeling. It remind you of that stupid teenage girl again; so gullible and weak.

“You cannot remain as you are,” he continued, “and I will not have a slobbish hick on my arm--”

“Jesus Christ, is your dick so small you can’t find another woman?” you hissed.

He was silent. You opened your eyes and hit your head on the wall as you were startled by how quick he moved. He pressed his knee to your chest and pinned you to the wall as he reached into his pocket and plucked out the silver key. He bent and unhooked the cuff from your wrist.

He caught your hand as you clawed at him and coughed as he pushed his knee harder against the cut between your tits. He tore you away from the wall suddenly and thrust you up to your feet. He twisted your arm behind you as he spun you and kicked your feet across the floor. You struggled with him but each time he bent your arm further up your back.

He pushed you onto the bed and straddled you as he angled you along the mattress. You flailed with your legs as he kept you trapped beneath his weight and released your arm. You reached out as he shifted above you and quickly snatched up your hands. He wrapped his long fingers around your wrists and snugly wound his tie in their place before he let go.

He backed off of you so that you laid across your stomach, your hands bound above your head to the bedpost. You rolled over as he marched away and returned just as quickly. He unfolded the razor with the mother-of-pearl handle and you dug your heels into the bed as you tried to free yourself from the silken tie.

He grabbed your leg and held it down. You brought your other knee up and he blocked it with his shoulder, “if you continue on like this, I might catch the artery.”

He held your leg down and pressed the edge of the blade to your thigh. You froze as he sliced into your skin and you grunted through your teeth. He traced a line down your leg and mirrored it on the other. He retreated and looked you over as you glanced down between your legs, the red lines dripping onto the blanket.

“What the fuck?” you yanked on the tie, “you’re fucking insane.”

“You haven’t any idea,” he held up the razor and admired the crimson along the silver, “but if you insist on this little dance, I should be inclined to go deeper.” He closed the razor and winked, “darling, you are looking rather rough,” he remarked, “but scars will not deter me.”

He spun and strode again to the bathroom. He returned and wiped his hands on a white towel and tossed it over the back of the chair. He sat and continued to sort through the bags.

“You think I’m afraid of you, you prick?” you snarled, “you think you’re going to win? When I get free, I’m going to take that blade and cut your dick--”

He stood and his hand formed a fist. He was atop you in a moment but before he could bring his hand to your throat, you bit down on the webbing between his thumb and index finger. He exclaimed and retracted his hand for just a second before he smacked you across the face. Your head snapped to the side and you held in a groan.

This time his hand stretched over your neck and he leaned over you. His hot breath whispered along your cheek and you shivered in disgust. 

“Oh, darling, this will be fun indeed,” he purred, “but I have no doubt that you will be prancing around in pretty little skirts for me before long,” he squeezed until you croaked, “you can even keep them on as I fuck you.”

“Go… to… hell,” you rasped.

He snickered and sat back on his heels with you straddled beneath him, “haven’t you realised? We’re already there.”

💀

You laid there for hours after Loki left you. Even though the mattress was preferable to the floor, you didn’t sleep. You stared at the ancient ceiling and cursed every inch of that place. 

Your thighs ached and that cut along your chest. Your arm was sore and raw each time it rubbed against your sleeve or the bed. You were more enraged than ever and you could hardly contain it and frustration had you kicking the mattress.

The windows were dark when he returned. He turned on the lamp beside you as the aroma of food tickled your stomach. You were desperately hungry but didn’t realise it until that moment. You salivated and gulped it down as he pulled up a chair and cradled the box in his lap.

“I’ve brought you dinner,” he said as he opened the cardboard container, “but… you have to use your manners, darling.”

“Get fucked,” you rolled onto your side so your back was to him.

“I can hear your stomach so let’s not pretend I believe you for a moment,” he taunted, “you will realise soon how weak you truly are.”

You didn’t say anything, nor did you move. You sneered at the wall as your arms strained above your head. He let out a long breath and then hummed in delight, “mmm, you know, this is not bad,” he commented, “your little diner has been the least disappointing aspect of this shithole.”

You gulped hungrily but refused to look back. He tapped his foot on the floor impatiently and sighed again.

“You would do yourself a favour if you did one for me,” he said, “say, if you accepted this generosity I might allow you another, perhaps a shower. Those cuts cannot remain unwashed.”

“Maybe you should’ve thought of that before you cut me,” you spat, “I don’t want anything from you and I definitely don’t want you. I’ll go live in the rubble, I don’t give a fuck.”

“You will,” he said as he stood and dragged the chair away, “but only you will pay for your stubbornness.”

💀

After another tussle, Loki relocated you once more to the radiator. He slept blissfully as you spent another restless night both sweating and shivering. When he woke, he offered you a bowl of instant oatmeal and you flipped it over. He tutted and went on with his day, leaving you again to stew in your wrath.

By the end of the day, your body rebelled with hunger and you accepted the bowl of soup he brought from The Chipped Saucer. You drank it from the paper cup but felt more rotten as it burned in your chest. He smirked as he watched you and you tossed the empty cup at him.

He scowled and you spent another night in cuffs. On the fourth day, he let you shower but kept you cuffed to the curtain bar for the ordeal. All modesty was gone as you were allowed only a plain white robe after and sat in the same spot, metal at your wrist, and wood at your back.

But you didn’t stop. You bit, you kicked, you hit, you swore, you screamed. A week passed and you wouldn’t accept it. You could see you were wearing on him and comforted yourself with the irritation in his sharp green eyes. You laughed at him outright and it stoked him further. He truly thought you’d never dealt with assholes before. You lived among them your whole life.

But that day when he came in, he was quiet though not sullen or angry. He was almost boasting as he still wore his new leather boots and dark parka. He tramped around and pulled out a mauve coloured dress, some satin and impractical undergarments, and a pair of heeled boots. He placed them calmly beside you but kept out of your reach.

He stepped back and shoved his hands in his pockets and grinned. You shook your head at him and scoffed. He waited as you simply yawned into your palm.

“Don’t you want to go see your brother?” he asked.

“He can rot with the rest of you,” you hissed.

“So heartless,” he slithered, “but I shall relay the message to him, as hard as it may be.”

“What the fuck are you on about?” you huffed.

“Well, darling, I don’t know if he should hear me or even if he could, that it would put him in a worse condition,” he mused.

“Worse condition?” you grimaced.

“Oh, I didn’t tell you, my apologies,” he preened, “why yes, it seems he did have an unfortunate incident. Some suspect it was an attempt on his own life but you know how gossip is in a town so small--”

“What--” you bit down on your lip, “is he… is he okay?”

“Why, he is rotting just as you wished, yes?” he asked coyly.

“Don’t be fucking stupid. Tell me he’s okay!” you tried to stand but were kept in a crouch by the cuffs.

“If you get dressed and behave, then you can see for yourself,” he said evenly, “or I will alone and hope that he survives his injuries… I wouldn’t expect the healthcare around here to be very adequate--”

“You fucking touch him--”

“What? You are wasting time, darling, and visiting hours will be over soon,” he warned.

You clenched your jaw and squinted at him. You swallowed your derision and blinked.

“Fine,” you said quietly, “I’ll… behave. Just take me to see him.”

“Good girl,” he came closer and knelt to grab your wrist, “but let me be clear, one misstep and you will never see him again. I should hate for him to die alone.”

“Just fucking undo me,” you snarled and his lips curved in triumph.

#loki #dark loki #dark!loki #loki x reader #series #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #sequel #fully completely #birch #biker boys of birch #au #biker au #biker!au #thor #mcu #marvel #avengers #bucky barnes #captain america

[iliveiloveiwrite]

an artist’s eye // Benedict Bridgerton

Summary: Benedict Bridgerton was an artist, even if his inspiration had no idea of what he feels.

A/N: I promise to slow down with the fics! I go back to work in a couple of days anyway so I’ll definitely slow down. I hope you all like! It’s shorter than my last few fics so I’m sorry for that!! My taglist is open so if you’d like to be on it, let me know and I am considering opening my requests for Bridgerton fics... considering.

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x Fem!Reader

Warnings: mentions of food and drink, pining, mutual pining, sketching, art, drawing (I am not an artist, I cannot draw a stick man so I apologise in advance), kissing.

Word count: 1.8k

The graphite point sits heavy in his hand as Benedict struggles to remember the lines he needs. With only his memory to aid him, Benedict struggled more with the portraits he preferred to draw than the landscapes that were growing increasingly popular among the highest of London society.

Sighing, Benedict presses his fingers to his eyes as if it will help jumpstart his memory to bring forward the correct image he needs. He regrets the action as quick as he had done it when he thinks of the mixture of graphite and charcoal coating his fingers.  

Rubbing his face with the sleeve of his shirt, he feels a moment of pity for the servants who would no doubt grumble and complain at the state of it. However, as he glances down at the sketch – the arch of his subject’s smile, the depths of their eyes – he cannot bring himself to care too much.

It wouldn’t see the light of day. Once complete, the sketchbook would be tucked away in the drawer in his desk. If it was to fall into the wrong hands, then as much as he is confident of his artistic talent, he would not recover from the fallout. Benedict worries for the day that the look in your eyes changes; once you realise the extent of his feelings for you.

He hadn’t meant to fall in love with you, but he had. There were a lot of things in Benedict’s life that he hadn’t meant to do and has regretted completing such an action once done. However, he cannot find it in himself to feel bad about falling in love with you even when he had not meant to.

As much as he puts on airs and graces, he would not approach you with his feelings. He wasn’t ready though you made his heart sing like no other.

One day, he tells himself as he finally remembers the swoop of your neckline. One day he will tell you as he picks up his graphite point and charcoal once more.

Not yet, however.

------------

The drawing room remains quiet as Benedict silently adds to his sketch collection. His mother sits across the room, content with a stitching pattern for the arrival of Daphne’s new baby. Eloise lounges on the couch, a book in her hand and a box of chocolates on her stomach, eyes pouring over the pages hungrily.

The only sound in the room is the roughness of his pencil on the paper. It didn’t matter what angle he approached this drawing at, he could not get it to look right. It was going to vex him until he had bested it.

“Miss (Y/N) (Y/L/N) has arrived,” The Butler announces to which Benedict suddenly sits up straighter, closing his sketchbook, leaving it on the table.

“Wonderful,” Violet Bridgerton smiles, “Show them up, please.”

“I didn’t know (Y/N) was calling today,” Benedict comments lightly as the Butler disappears from the room, trying to sound as if his heart isn’t currently pounding in his chest.

“(Y/N) always calls on a Thursday,” Eloise states, voice puzzled. She shares a look of confusion with her mother when Benedict suddenly stands, announcing to them both, “I shall clean myself up a bit, make myself look presentable for our guest.”

The look of confusion soon turns into one of understanding as both women watch their son and brother dash from the room. As if at the same time, a smile crosses both their faces when they realise that their beloved son and brother has fallen in love and with a dear friend of the family too.

They do not get to discuss the topic, however, for you are shown to the drawing room, greeting both women with a large smile and buoyant conversation.

“Help yourself to tea and biscuits, dear,” Violet invites, gesturing to the tea service now being laid on the table. Your stomach rumbles at the sight of the biscuits, unable to turn down the buttery goodness.

“Thank you,” You reply, taking a seat at the table, reaching for a biscuit and the teapot.

It’s then that you see it. A leatherbound book left on the other side of the table, barely hidden by the cake stand of treats.

Curiosity being your besetting sin, you reach for the leatherbound book on the table and begin to flick through the pages. A sketch of a pair of hands at the beginning; they hold a single flower – a rose, though what colour is impossible to tell since the sketch remains firmly in shades of greys and blacks. Enraptured, you turn the page to find a detailed image of a parasol, still sketched in the same greys and blacks as the previous picture. The artist has captured the lace trimming perfectly. The longer you stare at it, you come to realise that the parasol is being held by someone, but it isn’t clear who.

It isn’t until you reach a sketch of your side portrait that you come to realise that the previous sketches – the hands, the parasol with just a hint of a shadow under it – they’re of you.

They’re all of you. Each stunning sketch is of you.

Your breath quickens in your chest when you see who the sketchbook belongs to; when you spy the initials written on the inside sleeve of the front cover. ‘B.B.’ written in his elegant script – an artist in every aspect of his life. Whilst you had observed that Benedict sometimes appeared with smudges to his fingers and paint stains on the cuffs of his tailored white shirt, you had never seen a sketch or a painting until now. He truly had a gift; a talent worthy of being displayed in Somerset House.

You hadn’t been aware of his feelings for you though, but you would not be the first to admit that you found yourself attracted to the Bridgerton. Taught at a young age, you knew it was not wise to share such feelings with others. Instead, you dampened them down, hiding them away where they grew unattended – they rooted in your heart, making it very difficult to find another love worthy.

Bringing a hand to your mouth, you hide your smile, not wanting to give too much away to ever observant Bridgerton matriarch. You turn page after page, letting yourself fall deeper into your feelings for Benedict now that you find there is hope of them being requited.

------------

Benedict’s breath leaves his body in one fell swoop when he returns to the drawing room and he realises exactly what you hold in your hand. He hadn’t moved it upon your announcement; he thought he had, but instead, like a fool, he left it sitting there on the table.

A fool. He was a fool. How quick, Benedict thinks to himself, how quick a life can change – mere minutes he had been gone and now he was to have his love for you outed.

You haven’t noticed his presence yet, and for that Benedict is thankful. It gives him time to come up with something – anything – to explain the numerous sketches of you. His mind is running too fast; he cannot come up with a thought good enough to excuse the sketches in his book. His heart continues to pound in his chest; it had not slowed down since your announcement though at this point it reminds him that is, indeed, alive and not suffering from a night terror.

As if finally sensing the extra person in the room, you glance up. Your eyes meeting the deep blue of Benedict’s, and you freeze in your spot. Violet and Eloise glance between the two of you. Violet, not one to usually ignore tradition, hurries her daughter from the room – knowing the conversation that was about to take place.

“I’m sorry,” You whisper at the click of the door shutting. You close the sketchbook, placing it on the table as far away from you as possible to keep your temptation at bay.

“I think I should be the one apologising,” Benedict confesses, taking one more step into the room. He tucks his hands behind his back, ever the picture of grace and elegance as he thinks of how long he has left without before your opinion of him changes forever – artistic talent or not.

“I knew you were an artist; I had seen the smudges on your hands, but I didn’t think…”

“What?”

“I didn’t think you were drawing me.”

“Surely you know?” He asks, voice loud in the quiet room. When you remain silent, he continues, “Surely you know of my feelings for you?”

You shake your head, eyes glancing between the taller Bridgerton and the leatherbound sketchbook lying on the table. “I didn’t know,” You whisper, voice breaking as you take in the distraught look on his face.

“Well,” Benedict murmurs, clearing his throat, “You know of them now.”

“I do,” You murmur,

“I hope I haven’t offended you,” Benedict remarks, “Those sketches were not meant to be seen by anyone else.”

“Only if I haven’t offended you by looking through them.”

Benedict shakes his head, “You could never offend me.”

“Then I am not offended either. I’m quite flattered, you’re very talented.”

“Thank you,” Benedict says graciously, nodding his head slightly.

“You need to know that your feelings are returned, Benedict,” You declare suddenly and plainly, displaying your feelings for all to see.

“They are?” Benedict asks, voice awed as if he didn’t take into account this reaction.

“They are,” You state firmly, meeting his gaze proudly as if you could ever be ashamed of your feelings for the brunette.

Benedict stalks across the room; tradition and etiquette be damned as he reaches for your hand to pull you from your chair. His hands settle on your waist as you tilt your head back to look at him. A silent question reflects in his eyes to which you answer with a nod of your head.

His hands move from your waist to cradle your face as he dips down, pressing his lips to yours. It isn’t hurried; it’s perfect as Benedict takes control of the kiss, groaning softly at the feel of your mouth and your body pressed against him. You smile into the kiss as your arms wrap around Benedict’s neck, pulling him ever closer to you.

Benedict’s mouth brushes against yours as he asks, “Would you like to accompany me to Lady Danbury’s ball next week?”

“As in you would court me?”

Benedict chuckles softly, “Yes. I would like to court you, is that okay?”

“More than okay,” You smile before pressing a kiss to the corner of Benedict’s mouth and stepping away.

Turning back to the sketchbook, you open it to image that had kickstarted your heart into an irregular rhythm. Benedict stands by your side as your eyes pour over his sketch; each line and angle, each section of shading. “You truly have an artist’s eye,” You say quietly, tangling your hands together.

“Thank you,” Benedict whispers, bringing your entwined hands up to his mouth whereupon he lays a gentle kiss to the back of your gloved hand.

“Will you show me more?” You ask, turning to face the man that had turned you into a work of art.

“Darling, I’ll show you them all.”

***********

Bridgerton Taglist: @heloisedaphnebrightmore @dreaming-about-fanfictions @now-its-time-for-a-breakdown @janelongxox @aspiringsloth20 @wallwriterstuff​ @magicalxdaydream​

#benedict bridgerton #benedict bridgerton x reader #benedict x reader #benedict bridgerton fanfiction #benedict bridgerton imagines #bridgerton fanfiction #bridgerton #bridgerton imagines

[dandelionflower]

I saw on one of your post that said to send you prompts sooo... can I request A childhood friend AU either Felix or Marinette moves away and then reuniting in college in France at age 14 in Felix's school with the Quantic Kids.

It was a pretty normal day, which probably meant something was going to happen. If it wasn’t a normal day, something was bound to happen as well; life in Paris hadn’t been normal in months. It being a normal day meant that Marinette was late. Super late. Way, way, so very late she might as well be early for the next thing kind of late. So late that- (oh, she’s beginning to catch onto why she’s so late.)

She knew even as she was shoving toothpaste into her bag for Tikki and brushing her teeth with frosting (wait, switch that) that she would be late, and her erratic movements were enough to convince her parents to write her an excuse. Not that anyone could blame her; she had to deal with three akumas in one night. Three akumas. Who could blame her, or anyone for that matter, for being late when there were three emotionally-stunted teens each wreaking havoc upon the city? It was a wonder that anyone else got to class on time, except for Alya, who Marinette was pretty sure didn’t sleep.

Marinette kissed both parents goodbye, thanking them again for the excuse note. They shoved a box of pastries into her hands, as was their habit whenever she didn’t leave school fast enough.

They had done it since her first day at her new school, when she was tiny and frightened of new people; having the same best friend since birth would do that. Her father had shoved a box of macaroons in her arms and her mother placed a bracing arm on her back. They told her what to do and she tried her hardest to follow their instructions, standing up straight at the front of the class, introducing herself, and offering cookies. Unfortunately, that was the same day Chloe Bourgeois was joining public school, and compared to cookies, her offer of money to ten year-olds wasn’t all that effective. And Chloe was excellent at holding a grudge.

Of course, she ended up with friends: Alya, Nino, Adrien, and everyone in art class, but it was hard to go about her first couple years of school without anyone in her corner. Becoming Ladybug really gave her the boost of confidence she needed to break out of her shell and make new friends, and now she had a whole class full.

She stopped in the classroom to put her stuff away, pausing for a second to breathe. How was she out of shape? She’s Ladybug, for heavens’ sakes! Those three akumas really took it out of her. Luckily enough, she had gym class up next. (Can you hear the sarcasm?)

“Girl! Where have you been?” Alya smiled up at her from where she was stretching her hamstrings.

“Sorry Alya, slept in too much.” She fell into place beside her, choosing one of the more advanced stretches to accomplish instead. “Three akumas yesterday; couldn’t get much sleep.”

“You need to get over yourself, Mari. Ladybug and Chat Noir always win against the akumas, this fear of yours is ridiculous.” Alya glanced at her with an incredulous look, but when she saw her intense yoga pose, the look shifted and she yelled over her shoulder. “Adrien! Get over here! Marinette’s doing her physics-defying stuff again!”

Adrien joined them, laughing at Alya’s exaggerated despair. “It’s really not that hard. You just have to-” He fell into the position easily and began matching her movements. “There.”

“How on EARTH?” Alya shrieked and threw herself to the right, toppling into Nino, who was in a shaky warrior two. They ended up in a heap on the floor, Alya staring in horror at the two still upright and Nino staring bewildered at his girlfriend. “How are you two doing that?”

“Well, I don’t know about Marinette,” Adrien moved into an upward dog, “but father insisted that I be physically active in some way and my mother used to do yoga. So I picked it up.”

Nino leaned close to Alya’s ear. “I’m not sure whether to add this to the ‘reasons Gabriel sucks’ list or be happy he has this thing with his mom.”

“Both I guess?”

“What about you Marinette?” He moved into a handstand-like position. “Why do you know all this stuff?”

My superhero moonlighting requires me to be as stretchy as a rubber band, so my partner, who is also a furry, taught me yoga. “My first best friend and I learned tai chi, and this just felt like the next step.” Not a lie, just not why she chose yoga.

“Okay, you’re fine.” Alya pointed a finger between them both. “But next time you do something weird, I’m starting a cryptid blog about you.”

“You don’t have the guts.” Marinette leaned in and Adrien flipped down to join her. It felt familiar, like deja vu; not her crush, she killed that with fire once he started dating Kagami.

“Heey!” Nino opened his arms in front of them. “Let’s change the subject, what about that new student?”

“There’s a new student?” Marinette turned to the rest of the class, who were all stretching dutifully. No new faces whatsoever. “Where are they?”

“Not here, he went to the office over a scheduling conflict. Seems like a jerk.” Alya pulled an arm behind her head, glaring with derision in the direction of the office.

“Alya, don’t.” Adrien nudged her with a foot. “First impressions don’t mean anything, right Marinette?” He shot her a playful glance.

“Don’t remind me.”

“That one was a misunderstanding. Mister Ice Cold over there doesn’t even say a word, just nods and walks into the back of the class. At least Adrien did something and he asked for forgiveness afterwards. Frosty doesn’t even look at us.” With that final comment, Alya joined the rest of the class in dodgeball.

“Is she alright?” Adrien side-eyed her.

“Yeah, she just really hates people acting superior to her. Let’s go.” Marinette shrugged it off and joined her in picking teams.

Dodgeball was a mess; it always was. The entirety of the class had been akumatized at one point, and some of the strategic prowess remained. Marinette’s team always won, which everyone attributed to her agility, but it was really that Ladybug had more practice in strategy. The only way the teams could be considered even was if Adrien was against her.

She still won; she always won. When it was all over, each team, sweating and exhausted, gravitated to the center line to shake hands and congratulate one another on a game well played. Adrien met her in the middle with a weary smirk. His hair was disheveled, but there was a spark in his eyes that made him seem more familiar than he already was.

“I almost got you that time.” He gripped her hand tight.

“All that training with Kagami is really upping your game.” She quipped, shaking his hand. “Better luck next time.”

With that promise of another match, everyone vacated the gym to the locker rooms, where Alya continued to warn Marinette against the new student.

“Even Chloe doesn’t like him and he seems like the kind of rich boy that would be right up her alley.”

“Alya, I get it. You aren’t the new guy’s biggest fan.”

“And the feeling’s mutual too.” She griped.

“So just don’t talk to him; it works with Chloe. Why not this guy too?” She wrapped an arm around her shoulder and led her to their desk.

“Fine, but I don’t have to like it.”

“You don’t have to like him either.” She pulled out her notebook and began writing down the date.

Before Alya could make another passive aggressive comment about the mystery new boy, Miss Bustier walked in, the usual skip in her step. “Class, I know I already introduced you to our new student but since some of us weren’t here for the first period,” Marinette ducked her head with a sheepish smile, “I’ve decided there’s nothing better than a redo. So, here’s Mister Culpa, introducing himself again.”

Culpa?

A boy with pale blond hair and paler skin strode into the room. He wore what could only be called business-casual, all monochrome. His eyes were a one-in-a-million breathtaking ice blue.

Culpa?

“Hello.” His eyes scanned the room emotionlessly. “As I previously said, my name is Felix Culpa and I am from-” He stopped when he reached her. “Nette?”

“Felix.” She breathed, barely even daring to say it louder, lest he disappear.

He was a blur, climbing the steps and reaching her in the time it took her to stand. There were no words when they hugged, other than the other’s name. She was on the tips of her toes, pressing her forehead to his collarbone. Felix got tall.

“I missed you.” He whispered, squeezing just a little tighter.

“I missed you too.” She laughed, pulling back to see his face. He was crying. She was crying.

“What in Ladybug’s name is happening?” Alya’s shout broke them from whatever pocket dimension they were inhabiting together. “You two know each other?”

“Alya, this is Felix.” She turned to look at her, hand still on Felix’s shoulder. “He was my best friend from birth to ten.”

“Was?” He bumped her hip with his. “Didn’t know I’ve been replaced, Netta.”

“I couldn’t contact you after I moved! I was ten and your mom never told us what her new number was.” She punched his elbow. “What are you doing here?”

“My family moved. I didn’t know you were in this area too; imagine my surprise when I see what the current events in Paris are and find out that there are superheroes and my best friend is now a borderline celebrity.” He chuckled, running a hand through his hair.

“We have to catch up some time.” She grabbed his arm.

“Certainly, maybe not here and now, though.” He gestures to the class around them, avidly watching the exchange.

“Right.” She released his arm and rubbed the back of her head awkwardly. “Coffee and macarons later then? My place?”

“I would like nothing more.” He quirked a smile that would seem tiny to anyone else, but to Marinette was as bright as the sun. “Until then.” Felix squeezed her hand and moved to the back of the class with a little wave.

She returned it, a goofy smile definitely on her face as she sat back down.

“Well,” Miss Bustier coughed, “since Felix has been so thoroughly introduced to everyone else, I suppose I should start the lesson.” And she dove into a spiel about the first World War.

“Dang, girl. Is it just me, or do you have a date after class?” Alya whispered to her from behind her textbook.

“It’s not a date! We’re just catching up.”

“Sure.”

She spared a quick glance at Felix, who was nose-deep in his book, just like when they were kids. He had such sharp features, and upon reconsideration, his eyes looked even more beautiful than she remembered. Felix grew up just fine without her. Really fine, in fact.

It took Marinette a couple seconds to realize she was staring, and when she did, her head turned back to the front of the room so fast she swore she heard a snap.

This was... going to be complicated.

#felinette #ml felix #felix agreste #felix culpa #marinette dupain cheng #ml marinette #ml alya #alya cesaire #ml nino #nino lahiffe #ml adrien #adrien agreste

[apinktrashworld]

The Camp

masterlist

Jungkook x reader | angst,  fluff | friends to lovers au

wordcount: 2.4k

You and a few friends are going to a camp for a month, you find yourself growing closer to Jungkook though he’s your best friends ex.

For a long time, you and your friends had signed up for a camp to help volunteer. Works that needed help such as the environment, the old and homeless, hospitals and different orphanages etc. The list went on of what you could do to help. Wanting to help out as much as you can, you signed up for every possible thing on the list. The camp was set for a month. You scanned the brochure the camp had given out, you saw food was provided and the food schedule was written on the next page. There were pictures that showed people working and smiling, scanning every smile you could see you hoped to feel the same and to have a constant smile on your face throughout the camp. You had always cared about stuff like this and you wanted to help out as much as you could. You wanted to make a difference in the world and make it a better place. 

When you had told your four friends about the camp they looked like they were about to laugh, not quite thinking you’re being serious. You just stared at them waiting for them to finish so you could explain your reasons. As you did, they seemed to get more and more interested and wanted to come along with you. Now it was your time to laugh. Knowing them, they didn’t want to leave our little small town for an entire month to do volunteer work when you finally were free from school. You stopped laughing and stared at them with a smile on your face, meeting eyes with Taehyung looking dead serious. When no one said anything you made the biggest grin ever, in which they all returned. You yelled out how excited you were for this and they all started jumping and screaming with you, hugging and dancing in excitement.

That was two weeks ago, and now you had finally arrived at the camp. You and your friends stepped off the bus with your luggage and stood in a row, staring ahead. You felt ready for what was to come and looking to your side, you saw Jungkook, Jimin and your best friend, Irene gathering their luggage. Jungkook and Irene used to date a few months ago but stayed on good terms in order to keep the group together. You especially were thankful for that since you had grown so close with Jungkook and not wanting to choose between your best friend and Jungkook. 

The boys knew each other since childbirth and had stuck together ever since. Jungkook and Irene met through a mutual friend and grew close. As time went on, Irene dragged you with her to meet her new friends and Jungkook did the same with Jimin and Taehyung and just like that you hung out everyday. You thought you had found the best group you could ever find and would constantly thank them in your head. They made you happy and you could trust them with all your secrets. The more time the group spent together, the more did Jungkook and Irene take interest in one another and the two eventually started to hang out alone. One thing turned into another and suddenly they were a couple. You could tell how much Jungkook liked Irene and you were all for it, shipping them like crazy. Then Irene got in one's head and started telling you how Jimin had started to like you and tried to set up the two of you. It worked. Before you had never seen Jimin more as a friend but ever since your friend pointed out his interest in you, you suddenly noticed those quick glances he threw at you from time to time and his attempt in trying to flirt with you. Suddenly, you found yourself to like Jimin back, although not being as obvious as he was, you did not dare a single look towards him, being too afraid to meet his eyes and him seeing you blush. You did not dare talking to him more than a few words and a few attempts of flirting (though the flirting did not land whatsoever) in fear that your voice would shake or stutter. Irene noticed this too and practically forced you to talk to Jimin. You two agreed on a date and you shared a kiss or two, however the romance died pretty quickly after that, still, you care deeply for each other. Irene and Jungkook dated for three months before they broke up, Irene made the decision. She felt as if she wasn’t in a relationship with Jungkook alone and instead felt like she dated the whole group. When she told you this, you felt extremely guilty, you felt as if you were to blame for the relationship not working out. Irene is not one to open up about her feelings and prefers to keep them to herself in order to remain strong. Although Irene didn’t show her heartbreak, Jungkook however, got heartbroken. He loved Irene, and sometimes you think he still does. Wanting to help, your own heart breaking upon the sight of him, you tried showing him that you’re there for him. He refused to meet up with the group and started drinking up his feelings. This went on for a month. Irene broke him out of his bubble, talking out and listening to him, both crying and hugging and agreed to remain friends. It was hard for both of them at first, but soon it grew easier for the entire group.

Now, three months later, we’re here, standing with our hands full, Taehyung’s struggling to hold onto his bags but insisting he should take some of yours too because “a fine dame like you shouldn’t carry such heavy stuff”. Looking away from Taehyung, looking straight ahead to see where you’ll spend your life this month. Seeing people walking and laughing as they talk. Some are picking up trash and others are carrying boxes from a place to another. A huge smile spread across your face as you take the place in, you were happy you were to do this. Gathering your luggage you call for the others to get going. You all started walking towards the huge building that most likely was the barracks and the reception. It was a big white building with what seemed to be three floors. Walking up the stairs to the entrance you hear as the rest of the group are struggling to walk. Going in, you are welcomed to a group of men smiling and greeting you all. They’re wearing blue t-shirts with a text on the chest that says “Helping Hands”.

“Hi, welcome to Helping Hands!” one of the boys said with a big smile on his face, handing out four identical brochures as you had looked at before. Taking them, you hand out each of the brochures to your friends. “I suppose you are checking in?”

You nodded at his question. “Yes, it’s me, Taehyung, Jimin, Jungkook and Irene, we’re signed up for a month here” you say with an uncontrollable smile. You feel the rest of your group's eyes on you as they silently laugh at your excitement. 

“Alright, I just need all of you to sign this paper and then I will show you to your rooms” the boy informed you, gesturing to you to follow him. He stopped by a desk and placed papers with a lot of text on it. Quickly scanning through it, you signed it and handed the pen to Irene. You all signed the papers and moved on to get your rooms sorted out. Walking through a long white corridor with several doors on each side, you thought to yourself that it looked like some kind of mental hospital due to the empty walls. Not thinking too much of it, you walk through the corridor. The man stopped by one of the doors to your right and gestured for you and Irene to go inside. Inside you saw three other girls standing by each bed.

“This is your room girls, the boy’s room will be a few doors down the hallway.” the guide said and continued his walking.

The boys looked at each other then at you and Irene, thinking all of you were going to share a room. You simply shrugged your shoulders at them before turning around, catching a glimpse of Taehyung and Jimin who are both watching the girls behind you. When you turned around you saw the girls blushing and smiling. One of the girls snapping out of it, stepped forward and greeted you. Her name was Jiwoo and has a smile as an angel. Her hair was long and brown that framed her face in a way you never succeeded with, dark brown eyes which almost looked black and a voice which could make birds sing along with her. She was absolutely stunning. Jiwoo then introduced the two blushing girls behind her, Sun-hee and Mee-yon. All of them are beautiful and you found it hard to look away, your chin almost dropping at their beauty. Irene got you back to reality and introduced you to the girls. 

Getting to know each other, you learned you were all the same age and had a lot in common. You and Mee-yon especially loved taking trips and finding new places, Irene and Jiwoo got along due to them having the same major. You were really thankful for getting roommates such as them rather than girls who won’t share a single glance with you. You and Irene chose the bunk beds closest to the door, you being on the bottom bunk and Irene on the top.

A few minutes later, there were a few knocks on the door, opening up you see it’s the boys, all of them trying to squeeze through the door to look inside. Almost falling in, they stumble on their feet, smiling. Jimin and Jungkook turn to you and Irene while Taehyung gets busy trying to get acquainted with your roommates.

“Why did you get a much nicer room than we got?” Jimin whined as he turned to investigate your room again. “You even have flowers!” he exclaimed, pointing at the vase full of flowers on the table in the middle room.

“You should see ours…” Jungkook finishes as he looks down at you. Looking up at him and letting out a little chuckle. Not breaking eye contact, you quickly turn to Jimin who’s still scanning every inch of the room. “How are your roommates?” you ask, shifting your eyes between Jimin and Taehyung. Taehyung’s smoothly flirting with all three of the girls without them noticing. Jimin sits down on your bed, getting at home immediately. “It was empty when we arrived, have yet to meet them.” he says.

Looking out the window you see the sun is shining. Now that you’re here you’d like to get to know the place. So you suggest that you all take a stroll around the camp, in which Irene says she wants to do that later since she wants to sleep, Jiwoo, Sun-hee and Mee-yon agree with her, claiming they want to unpack their belongings. That brings you to Taehyung, Jimin and Jungkook, looking eager at each of them as they look back at you. “I’m down.” Taehyung shrugs and Jimin and Jungkook nod towards you.

Walking outside, the sun hits your skin. You’re wearing a white crop top with blue jean shorts that go down to your knees. Feeling the breeze pass through your legs you take some steps until you were stood on the grass. Turning around, you see three boys fanning their hands on their face, all three of them wearing black sweaters and hoodies with jeans. Sighing, you silently judge them for wearing such warm clothes in this weather and predict all the complaints that will come.

After the walk, you return to your room. You had met a few new people that joined your stroll and showed you around, telling you how stuff works around here and so on, hearing heavy breathing and small complaints about the weather here and there from the boys. They can only blame themselves for that. It had now become dark outside and a little cooler so you wanted to fetch a sweater. While back at your room, Irene and your roommates were sitting on opposite beds playing cards and talking. You greeted them and told them you were going out to the beach with the beach and asked if they wanted to come along. They said yes and now you all headed towards the boys room. Knocking at the door and opening it the same second, you were greeted with the boys along with two new unfamiliar faces. They all turned their heads towards you. You apologized for stepping in since you thought only Jimin, Taehyung and Jungkook were inside. The two new people just smiled looking at the group of girls which just entered their room. “No worries love, I’m Hoseok and this is Namjoon” one of the men said and pointed at his friends next to him. Not gonna lie, they both looked rather attractive and fun to be around so you asked them if they wanted to come along to the beach. When you did, Jungkook, and Jimin snapped their heads towards you with a stern look on their faces. Confused, you looked away from them and met eyes with Hoseok and Namjoon, seeing their pretty smiles. “We’d love to,” Hoseok said, seeming thankful for your invite. Returning the smiles with an even greater smile. Then you headed out, all of them grabbing a sweater to drag on, the boys oddly quiet while Hoseok and Namjoon tried getting to know you and the girls.

Arriving at the beach, you all sat down on the sand, kicking off your shoes in order to bury your feet in the cool sand. Namjoon and Hoseok sit on either side of you, perhaps a little too close but you didn’t mind. You talked about your life and they did the same. Leaning back on your arms, you look straight out into the water. Seeing Taehyung teasing Jiwoo and Mee-yon by splashing water on them, hearing them laugh made you chuckle to yourself. Jungkook and Jimin sat in front of you whispering to each other, every now and then glancing back towards you. It didn’t seem like Jungkook and Jimin liked their roommates very much, you had yet to figure that out but for now you just wanted to enjoy the moment and look ahead of what was to come this month. 

#bts #bts x reader #bts x you #bts x imagines #bts scenarios #bts reactions #bts reader insert #bts fanfic #bts fic #bts angst #bts fluff #bts smut #bts fake texts #bts au #bts fic rec #bts fake chat #bts texts #bts jungkook #bts jimin #bts taehyung #bts namjoon #bts yoongie #bts seokjin #bts hoseok #jungkook #jeon jungkook #jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #jungkook imagines #jungkook fanfic

[bookishofalder]

The Bet

Hotch x Fem!Reader

Request: @honeyshelley - ‘Hiii, I just discovered you and I hope to read soon your work ! And i hope you are safe and healthly ❤ i wondered if you could write something for Hotchner, the reader can be a police officer who call the bau for help to catch a serial killer or something, a bit of angst maybe and write only of you are inspired ! Don't force yourself, 🤗’

Warnings: Panic attack description, mild CM content. 

A/N: Man, I love Hotch. They did him DIRTY on CM because he stood up for his cast mates and I’ll never forgive CBS for it. 

Hotch was annoyed.

Though a regularly occurring emotion for him, it was rarely so focused upon himself. Today he stood in the conference room of the D.C. FBI Field Office, where they were assisting on a local case. And he was irritated with only himself.

Because of you.

He didn’t blame you in the least, of course. He wasn’t irrational, wasn’t one to deflect or project his emotions onto others-least of all someone entirely innocent and unaware. It was just exhausting, though, working this case. You were a new addition to the field office, having just transferred from Seattle in hopes of further advancing your already impressive career within the FBI. Hotch had heard of you before, details of your more prolific cases and intense work ethic were often relayed by Spencer Reid, who was one to stay up on fellow agents that might one day suit the BAU team.

And while Hotch had been impressed, mildly interested, happy to get a chance to work with you, he had not expected the woman who walked through the front lobby and extended her hand to him three days prior. No, you had caught him entirely off guard, and he was still reeling. He hadn’t felt this way about a woman in...probably ever if he was honest with himself. Hailey and he were high school sweethearts-that kind of love was different, steady and safe and expected. Beth had caught his attention, her kindness and overall different lifestyle an alluring escape from the realities of his day to day. But things never really took off with her, despite their mutual respect.

But you, well you had him captivated the moment he met your friendly gaze, your eyes wide in clear excitement for getting a chance to work with the BAU. Your hand grasped his and he’d felt like time had slowed, just enough that he could take in every single detail as he introduced himself. The way your hair fell, the curve of your hips, the small pout of your lips. Your posture, head held high to convey the message that you were a leader, not one to be overlooked. It all struck him at the moment, and when you repeated his name in your breathy voice, he knew he was done for.

Three days later the case was going well, though there was an uphill battle, progress was progress. Hotch was happy with how his team was performing. They’d worked plenty of cases with the staff of the D.C. field office. With different sections, and even interacted with many of the agents in social settings and workplace functions, given the proximity to Quantico. But Hotch felt he wasn’t working at his best, behaving entirely unlike himself as he was completely distracted by you every time you stepped into the room.

It had been three days of variable torture, his mind continually informing him of the why not’s-the age gap, that you probably already had a partner, that Hotch was damaged and cursed and certainly didn’t deserve a woman like you. And then you’d bring him a coffee, or stand closely next to him as you both surveyed a map provided by Reid, or tuck your hair behind your ear with a little smile when the conversation turned away from work, and Hotch would feel hot and bothered and not at all like himself.

“Agent Hotchner?” Your voice pulled him from his thoughts, his gaze lifting from the tablet he’d been pretending to read, and meeting yours. You smiled down at Hotch, leaning against the table where he sat. The scent of fresh linens and honeysuckle wafted toward him, delighting his senses further.

Hotch returned your smile automatically, something he was aware was rare for him. He hadn’t needed Derek mentioning it last night as they made their way out the doors, calling attention to his sudden eagerness to smile around the beautiful, strong new agent. But Derek had always enjoyed teasing him when he could get away with it.

“I’m sorry, Agent (Y/L/N), did you say something?” Could you hear his heart right now, as it beat against his chest? The thrum, thrum, thrum signalling just how you affected every cell within his body-could you sense it?

You smirked, extending a coffee you’d been clutching toward him with a small shrug, “I think you need this more than I do, sir.” You giggled, and Hotch’s cheeks flushed in response. His fingers brushed yours when he gratefully took the proffered beverage and he felt a shiver of electricity across his skin.

Hotch nodded in thanks, “Cases like this always seem to require extra coffee.” He admitted, taking a sip and noting how you enjoyed your coffee much sweeter than he did, but at that moment he didn’t mind. It was quality coffee, hot and given by you.

Sighing, you crossed your arms and Hotch kept his gaze level with yours despite the captivating way your breasts pushed out. Inwardly, he chastised himself for his train of thought. You were his colleague. His colleague. His very beautiful, disarmingly charming colleague.

“I agree, though they come along often enough that it’s starting to become a poor excuse for overindulging.”

Hotch glanced down at his mug as he laughed, then back up. When he met your eyes, he noticed they widened slightly, a faint flush dusting your cheeks. This captured his attention fully, but before he could begin to consider how to move forward, how to find out what your blushing meant, Derek and Emily walked into the conference room, heads low.

Another victim had been found.

+

“I really hate alleyways. I think society needs to eliminate them entirely,” You said, your hand clapped over your nose and mouth to ease the intensity of the scent of rotting flesh from the victim that you, Hotch and Reid were staring down upon. “After this case, I’m petitioning for it here-at least within my jurisdiction.”

Hotch laughed aloud. Reid glanced up from the victim, brows furrowed and opened his mouth to no doubt educate you on everything and anything he knew about alleyways. Which you assumed was a lot, because you’d known the genius a few days now and already understood there was little he didn’t know. But you shook your head, resting a hand on his arm as you laughed.

“She’s joking,” Hotch supplied, giving you a warm smile as Reid nodded in understanding. Your knees trembled every time this man looked at you, and you were surprised you didn’t just collapse the moment he flashed you that gorgeous grin. Fuck, you had it bad.

You’d always had a thing for older men, though you hadn’t dated any. You had had a few previous relationships with men your age, either fellow students in college or agents at the academy, but they were all short-lived. You counted some of those men amongst your closest friends. But you focused instead on your career and hoped one day a suitable partner would appear.

You hadn’t expected Agent Aaron Hotchner to tick every single box on your list the moment he introduced himself and those dark, warm eyes searched your face, as though he was seeing something unexpected. You’d spent the last few days finding any excuse to work with or near him, even going so far as to join him and Reid at this most recent crime scene despite how much you really, truly hated alleys.

Nothing good ever happened in an alley, as far as you were concerned, and though you tried to hide your discomfort behind humour, you were eager to assess the scene and get the hell out of the narrow, stifling gap carved between two old buildings.

It was a short while later, when the crime scene photographer was following your instructions, you and the two men on either side of you discussing the case from the vantage of the latest victim, that the discomfort began to fester. It evolved, so slowly you hadn’t realized until suddenly your spine felt tight and your level-headedness seemed to disintegrate. You swallowed, setting your jaw and working to disassociate yourself from your surroundings, hopeful the renowned BAU agents were too focused on their work to recognize your sudden internal struggle for composure.

Though, it seemed that Agent Hotchner had been paying attention, and you couldn’t fathom why. At first, you saw his eyes sweep over you from the corner of his own, taking in your stiff posture, the way your hands clenched at your sides. You thought he would leave it alone, be embarrassed for you when suddenly his large hand was slowly pressing into your lower back. Your shirt pressed to your skin and it was then that you realized the layer of sweat that had broken out over your body as your panic attack raged within.

You closed your eyes briefly, focusing on that hand, but it wasn’t enough. The alley was too narrow, too damp and hot, the odour in the air foul and suffocating. “Come with me.” He suddenly murmured in your ear, and you didn’t hesitate to comply, moving with Hotch as his hand remained on your back, guiding you to the mouth of the alley. Once you were on the street, he moved toward the SUV that you’d all driven over in.

Using the keys, he opened the trunk and gestured for you to take a seat. Again, you followed his instructions, lifting yourself, legs dangling slightly. You still couldn’t breathe, even though the air out here in the open was moving, fresh, a soft breeze dancing across your skin.

You felt like the air wasn’t meant for you anymore, your lungs incapable of pulling it in.

Hotch leaned in front of you, his warm eyes full of concern, “Can I touch you?” He asked you, voice low. You nodded, and his hands found your shoulders, grasping gently. After a moment, during which he gauged your reaction to his touch, his grip tightened and his hands slide up and down your upper arms, grounding you somewhat. “Close your eyes, breath with me, sweet girl.”

His words sent a shiver down your spine, but you followed his suggestion and began to take deep breaths as your eyes closed. Your hands lay flat on your thighs, applying your own slight pressure. He took exaggerated breaths to ensure you could hear him and match your own.

You weren’t sure how long you and Hotch stayed like this, but his movements never ceased, and you could feel his eyes watching you. When your breathing evened out, you focused instead on the cool air, the strength behind his hands on you. Slowly, you opened your eyes and met his. “I’m sorry, I-“

Hotch shook his head, “You have nothing to apologize for. We’ve all been there.”

You smiled shyly at his words, nodding. “Well, thank you. This...it really helped.” You watched as he returned your smile, his right hand releasing your arm to brush falling strands of your hair over your shoulder. The gesture alone was enough to make you shiver again, your mind and body reconnecting as your panic attack diminished.

He seemed to notice your reaction this time, and pulled his hands back, appearing surprised. He didn’t move away, though, for which you were grateful. You weren’t ready for the moment to end.

“I hope I didn’t overstep, Agent.” He muttered, his serious frown returning. You shook your head quickly, eager for him to understand just how much you appreciated what he’d just done for you.

“You can call me (Y/N),” You replied quietly, considering your next words carefully. “Although...I didn’t mind sweet girl if I’m being honest.”

You had held his gaze as you spoke, which allowed you to bear witness to the emotions that played across the usually stoic man's face. Shock morphed into a small smile that met his butterscotch eyes, a blush creeping across his skin and his right hand moved to rub the back of his neck nervously. After a few moments, which you could see he was using to come up with a reply, he sat down next to you, your sides touching. He sighed with a smile.

“Could I take you to dinner once this case wraps up, (Y/N)?”

A grin spread across your face at his words, and, feeling bold, you took his hand into yours as you looked up at the handsome man. “I’d love that, Aaron.” You squeezed.

His eyes lit up at your reply and he returned your pressure as he smiled down at you. You stayed like that for a long while, grinning at one another like lovesick kids, so enamoured that you both missed Reid pulling out his phone to snap a picture.

He sent the photo to the team, conceding defeat to Derek and Emily, who had both bet it would take only three days for Hotch to ask you out. Spencer had bet on four days, JJ on a week, and Garcia on a week after the case would wrap up.

Now he was out forty bucks, but it was worth it to see the smiles lighting you both up as you gazed at one another. The rest of the world was background noise.  

Did you enjoy this story? Please consider reblogging or commenting to ease my inner turmoil as a writer. Likes are basically just a bookmark!

#reader insert #fanfic #aaron hotch x reader #hotch x reader #aaron hotchner #bau x reader #fluff #criminal minds #hotch x y/n #requested #feedback appreciated #spencer reid #olderguy #comfort

[mrsgiovanna]

A Dream Realized (Don Giorno x Fem! Reader)

The cutest request from a nonnie mouse, I had too much fun writing this and may have gone overboard😅

This takes place many years after the events of Vento aureo.

No warnings, just pure, self indulgent fluff😍💜💭🐞

“Giorno! Get out! Get out! Get out! You’re not allowed to see (y/n) in the dress!” Trish ran across the room to slam the door before Giorno could see you while you tried on your stunning designer dress and shoes in front of your excited bridal retinue.

“But I just want to talk to her, I’m leaving in a moment and I’ll only see her at the wedding now,”

“Gio, please wait, I’ll be out in a minute,” you call out, hurrying to get out of your dress so you could see him one last time before your wedding tomorrow,”

“Of course tesoro, don’t worry, I won’t leave without seeing you first,” Giorno paced outside the master bedroom, amused at the laughter and muffled conversations he could hear from the other side of the door. As soon as you step out of the room, you run into his arms, and give him the warmest, tightest hug you could with all the energy you could muster, almost as if you wanted to memorize the way his body felt against yours.

“I’ll miss you tonight my love, not that I’ll be able to get any sleep…” you say as you look up into his sparkly emerald eyes, interlocking your fingers around his neck.

“No, no bella, you need to rest, I want you to be well rested and alert for tomorrow, don’t want people to think I’ve tricked you into marrying me when they see your dopey, sleepy face,” teased Giorno, masking a mischievous laugh by burying his face in your hair.

“Whatever… my sleepy face is adorable, you just don’t want anyone else to see it,”

“Yes bella, you’ve caught me out, only I should be able to see you like this. Giorno locked his fingers around the small of your back and pulled away to look at you, “you know, the next time we hold each other like this, you’ll be Mrs. Giovanna, you ready for that? It’s your last chance to run away…”

“Oh you guys are so annoying, Giorno, come on, its only one night, (y/n), we’ll… try to have him back in one piece for tomorrow, can’t make any promises though,” said Mista as he slung an arm around the young Don’s shoulders trying to drag him off. With a few chaste kisses, Giorno had left and you went back to the room to go over the final details of the wedding and just have a moment to relax with your party.

 You both spent your evenings recounting stories of your childhoods together, you knew the boys were out somewhere making the best of Giorno’s final moments as a bachelor, but you weren’t worried, you wanted him to have a normal experience for once, well as normal as one can conjure while being the don of Passione.

Yours was a classic “childhood sweethearts” love story- little boy meets little girl, they become the best of friends and a mutual escape for one another from their painful realities, boy goes on an epic journey and attains a supernatural, almost godlike power and ousts the menacing don of the most powerful mafia in Italy for the betterment of society, boy then pursues girl after years of mutual pining for each other- just your usual love story…

Reforming Passione was not easy, and it took years of painstaking work to get to a point where Giorno could focus on his personal life, and be the man he thought you deserved. You never doubted that he would realize his dream, and you cheered for him silently from your position in the shadows, staying hidden for your own safety.

­ “Everything looks beautiful outside- here, I’ve brought over your flower crown and the bouquets that Giorno had sent over, I’m convinced this was made with GE, I haven’t even seen some of these flowers before,” marveled Trish as she helped fix your headpiece to your hair. “Giorno is already here, he looks like an absolute dream, well, he always did look great in black.” You smile at Trish, thankful that she was your maid of honor, she really has been the best friend you could have asked for during this entire planning stage, and you were excited at helping her in the same way when her time came.

As you give yourself one last look at your reflection in the gilded mirror, a little butterfly flutters through your window and lands on your outstretched hand, slowly transforming into a small note. The girls all gather around you as you unfold the letter and begin to read it. You recognize the immaculate penmanship immediately-

My beautiful (y/n),

To say that I’ve been looking forward to this is an understatement. Thank you for always being the source of my strength and my sense of calm in this crazy world. I’m usually a man of few words, so I’ll keep this short and save the rest for my vows to you. I just want to say that I love you and I’m ready to embark on this new adventure with you. Today you will take my name, and in exchange I get everything I could ever want- I get you…

P.S. look for a little blue box on your nightstand, please wear that when you walk down the aisle.

All my love, Gio

One of your bridesmaids hands you the box, and you open it to find a beautiful, elegant jeweled necklace, perfectly matched to your look for the day.

The ceremony was beautiful, romantic and lighthearted- everything you could have hoped for, and the sight of Giorno beaming as you walked towards him is one that will remain imprinted in your memory forever. Your reception was the grandest soiree you’ve ever planned and you were elated that everything was going according to plan, and that the guests were having a wonderful time.  Despite your exhaustion, you danced the night away with your handsome husband, until you both could barely stand. Finding a quiet corner, you decide to sit down and just observe the cheerful scene.

With glossy eyes and flushed cheeks, you both look at each other affectionately

“I can’t believe this is happening Gio, it feels like a dream and I’m scared I’m going to wake up…” Giorno looks at you while twirling a lock of your hair in his fingers, drinking in your loveliness, “It is a dream amore mio… one that we have realized. Nothing and nobody will be able to take this from us now…” he says as his gaze shifts from your eyes to your lips, claiming them in a soft kiss, the first of countless more to come.

#giorno giovanna x reader #giorno x reader #jojo x reader #don giovanna #don giorno #giorno giovanna #giorno #jjba #vento aureo #golden wind #giogio #jjba fluff #my writing #jojo's bizarre adventure #jojo no kimyou na bouken

[hopeisour4letteredword]

don’t play with your food

Summary: Apollo brings snacks with him to hang out with—to go over case files with Klavier. The snacks are for eating. Eating is what the snacks are for.

According to Apollo, of course. Now if you ask Klavier, on the other hand...

Read it below, or here on AO3.

"You know, there's a game people play with that biscuit."

Apollo, who had been crunching along on a piece of pocky and minding his own business, stops and looks at Klavier suspiciously. Klavier smirks back. They're supposed to be going over old case briefs together, which Apollo has increasingly realized is just their mutual excuse for hanging out. Not that it's not fun to argue about old cases with Klavier, not that it doesn't keep Apollo's critical analysis warmed up between cases, not that he doesn't learn from it, but... well, earlier today he'd thought to himself I should pick up snacks on the way over to Klavier's office. And snacks are usually a hanging-out-with-Clay thought. Not a professional-visit-with-my-colleague thought.

Apollo and Klavier are friends, not just colleagues. This is not news. Apollo—mortifyingly, horrifyingly, to Ema's great disappointment in him—likes Klavier. This is also not news. But there's still some weird tingle of embarrassment he gets every time he realizes how much space he's making for Klavier in his life.

Maybe it's because he can't pin down how Klavier feels in turn. He knows Klavier thinks of them as friends, too. That's not in question. It's just that Apollo thinks he might have to dig a hole through the Earth's crust to throw himself down if he finds out Klavier's flirting is just humoring his pathetic little crush. How's Apollo supposed to know if it's sincere? The guy has a rockstar persona to maintain. And if Klavier isn't the same way with Ema, Apollo kind of figures Klavier knows she would resort to violence if he was this heavy-handed with her.

For instance, he's pretty sure Ema would beat Klavier senseless with the box of pocky if he brought the pocky game up to her.

"I know what the pocky game is," Apollo finally says. He fishes another stick of pocky out of the box. Klavier's smirk grows. "It's a waste of a snack."

"So cynical, Herr Forehead. You don't think it's even a little cute?"

"It's either a game of chicken, which you could do without wasting good food," Apollo says, pointing the pocky at Klavier emphatically, "Or it's a stupid excuse to kiss someone you would have kissed anyway, which you could also do without wasting good food."

Klavier props an elbow on the corner of his desk so he can prop his chin on one hand. "I would have thought someone who bluffs as much as you do would be more tolerant of creative games of chicken."

"Rude," Apollo says. He waves the pocky sternly at Klavier. "They're boring. I always win."

He's too prideful to back down, after all. That's why the bluffing works too. He'll win because he has to win, because he refuses to lose.

"Always?"

Klavier is grinning now. Oh, no. Apollo has made a mistake.

Too prideful to back down, indeed. He jerks his chin up, haughtily, and repeats, "Always."

Klavier slowly, maintaining eye contact, reaches over and plucks the piece of pocky out of Apollo's hand. As Apollo watches, Klavier tucks the tip of the pocky between his own lips. He leans forward in his chair and raises his eyebrows at Apollo again. A challenge.

Fuck. God dammit. Bastard.

Apollo's face burns. He fights to keep a stubborn expression, not as mortified as he feels when he shoves himself up from his chair to step over to Klavier's. Klavier has to sit back, now, with Apollo looming over him while he remains seated. Apollo tosses the rest of the box of pocky to the side on Klavier's desk and braces his hands on the armrests of Klavier's chair, leaning in.

It's just chicken. It's just a game of chicken. Apollo always wins at chicken. This is fine, it's fine, he's fine—

He gets his mouth on the other end of the stick of pocky. Inches away from Klavier's own mouth. Three inches, maybe. Tops.

He is not fine.

But Klavier challenged him. And if there was ever anybody Apollo was not willing to lose a game of chicken to, good grief, it's Klavier. He would be so incredibly annoying about it. He hasn't even won yet and he's already being annoying about it, that cocksure smirk a vivid pink where it wraps around the other end of the pocky.

No. Apollo won't back down. He can do this. He's fine.

But following through will mean—

Apollo inches forward. Klavier's blue eyes are dark in the shadow of his eyelashes, blond and fine though they may be. Is Apollo imagining it, or does his smirk soften, just a bit? That sharp pink curve of his lipstick gentled to something more like a real smile.

The thing is—the thing is. Klavier is also not willing to lose to Apollo. Apollo knows that. It's why they work well together in court. Klavier will not give him a victory he hasn't earned, even if he believes in Apollo's client too, because he knows Apollo can do better than that. Klavier doesn't roll over and let him win. So Klavier isn't going to back down, either. In fact, he nudges his mouth further along the stick of pocky, now, too.

So the thing is: if Apollo isn't going to back down, and he knows Klavier isn't going to back down, what the fuck is he doing agreeing to play if he doesn't want his heart broken?

And the other thing is: if Klavier isn't going to back down, and he knows Apollo isn't going to back down, what the fuck is he doing by challenging Apollo to the pocky game?

There's a single inch, if that, between them now.

This is fine. This is totally fine.

Klavier leans a smidge forward, barely any pocky left separating them, metaphorically placing the last move in Apollo's hands. Finish it or don't. Chicken out or don't. Kiss Klavier or don't.

It's fine, he's fine, he's fine—

Apollo's hands tremble where they grip Klavier's armrests as he pushes the rest of the way forward and his mouth nudges against Klavier's.

Klavier exhales. Not a sigh, but a soundless, steady thing, like settling into place. His mouth is softer than Apollo would have expected. Clay made them both try lipstick in their teens, and Apollo remembers hating how tacky it felt, but whatever Klavier's wearing doesn't feel that way. Just silky smooth. And he smells nice. Apollo mostly ignores his cologne, since it isn't too intrusive from a respectable distance, but it's—it's good.

Kissing Klavier is good.

...This is really weird with pocky still in his mouth.

Apollo bites down. Klavier startles at the soft crunch of it, blinking with confusion when Apollo pulls back to chew and swallow. For a brief instant, his expression flashes hurt—in the next moment, it smoothes over. He swallows his own mouthful of pocky and gives Apollo a new smirk that doesn't reach his eyes. So this isn't a joke to him. This was—this was the second thing Apollo said, this was an excuse to kiss him.

"So much for always—"

"Shut up," Apollo says, and dives in to kiss him again. Klavier makes a sound of pure relief. The hand on Apollo's bicep jerks down to his waist, and the next thing that Apollo knows, he's being dragged sideways into Klavier's lap. Apollo instinctively scrambles to stay stable so he doesn't topple out of the chair. He shouldn't have worried, though. He's not going anywhere with the way Klavier clutches at him. Klavier's other hand tangles into his hair to keep him close, like Apollo would get up and leave now.

They stop to breathe after a minute, foreheads resting against each other. Klavier looks about as dazed as Apollo feels. The gentle smile is a lot better than that shitty fake smirk had been.

After a few beats, Klavier says, "I still won."

"You are so fucking insufferable," Apollo says, ruefully. He can't believe he likes this idiot so much. Klavier laughs with unrestrained delight. "You didn't win. Neither of us backed down."

"You did back down—"

"I did not! I wanted the stupid pocky out of the way. And I'm still right about it being a waste of food, what's wrong with you that you couldn't just say something—"

"I've been flirting with you for months and you weren't picking up on it!" Klavier pouts. He shifts his hand out of Apollo's hair to stroke knuckles over his hot cheek. "Besides, you were cute about it."

Apollo wants to protest that assessment, but he has the sinking feeling that insisting he isn't cute will open a can of worms he isn't emotionally prepared to deal with right now. Instead he says, "If that was your master plan, I definitely won, because you were counting on me not backing down for it to work."

"Maybe so," Klavier says, airily. He pats Apollo's cheek. Apollo can't help but lean into the touch. "Your stubbornness is a sure bet."

"I prefer determination."

"Semantics."

"You don't get to lecture me on semantics, you pretend to be German to look cool."

"That's not sem—mmph." Klavier laughs at him again when Apollo retreats from his haphazard attempt at a kiss, muttering an apology. He'd come in too aggressive and more smushed their faces together than anything else. The hand on Apollo's cheek shifts to cup his jaw. "Here, Schatz, let's try that again."

Loathe though Apollo is to admit it, things are easier when he lets Klavier guide him in. Apollo has tried not to imagine what it would be like to kiss Klavier, but if he was pressed, he would have guessed it was a moment of one of them giving into frustration. Fueled by passion and restless leftover energy from courtroom antics. But this isn't Apollo grabbing fistfuls of Klavier's ridiculous popped collar and shoving him back against the nearest wall. It's too gentle for that. It feels strange to insist that it's chaste, what with Klavier pulling him into his lap, but it is. It's just the soft pressure of lips on lips. Apollo's eyes drift closed as he presses into it.

"Should've brought pocky to the office sooner," Klavier mumbles.

"...Me or you?"

"Either. Both." Klavier steals another kiss. "Or you could've just stopped being so clueless. Where was that incredible perception of body language this whole time?"

Apollo splutters, red-faced again. "It doesn't help with this stuff! Insincere flirting isn't lying!"

"Poor baby," Klavier says, with absolutely zero sincere sympathy. "If only I had been completely blatantly obvious, or something—"

"You could have just asked! What's wrong with just asking?!"

Klavier pulls him snug up against his body with both arms wrapped around Apollo's lower back, and kisses him soundly on the mouth. Apollo growls with frustration and throws his own arms around Klavier's neck. This is more like his reluctant daydreams.

It's a good long while before they pull apart again. Apollo has to rest his forehead against Klavier's and pant for breath. Klavier says, softly for all that he's amused, "Please don't yell like that. I'd rather not inspire my colleagues to come check on us."

"They don't come check on us when I'm yelling about cases," Apollo argues, although the idea of another prosecutor coming to see what the fuss is about only to find him in Klavier's lap does make him want to die a little. Volume modulation is not his strong suit, but he'll give it some extra effort to avoid that.

"Your impassioned yelling about cases sounds less distressed," Klavier says. He squeezes Apollo around the waist. "Are you really so annoyed with me?"

"You are very annoying," Apollo says, as sourly as he can manage with Klavier's breath huffing gently against his mouth. "Don't make fun of me for not being able to tell whether you meant it. You're always like that, how am I supposed to know?"

"Always like that with you, maybe."

"Oh, just shut up!" Apollo slumps again him, face well and truly burning now. Klavier laughs quietly. "That's exactly what I'm talking about."

"I don't know what to tell you," Klavier says. He strokes a hand over Apollo's back. "I really don't know what else I could have done to make myself clear. Fräulein Detective was already irritated with me for being, in her words, 'gross' about it."

"Ema's always irritated with you," Apollo says, half-heartedly. Hell. No wonder Ema has been so exasperated with him about Klavier, if even she thought Klavier was being that obvious. And Apollo's going to have to tell Clay he was right, too. A losing round on all counts, aside from the fact that he gets to kiss Klavier now, apparently. "That doesn't mean anything."

"She's very mean to me, it's true." Klavier steals yet another kiss. "Well, if you want to be asked in plain words so badly, consider this my offering: I like you quite a lot, Herr—"

"Finish that nickname and the answer will be no."

"Herr Justice," Klavier finishes, innocently. Apollo laughs despite himself, curling forward to drop his forehead against Klavier's shoulder. His face still feels hot. He doesn't think it's going to cool off any time soon. "Would you like to get coffee sometime, and perhaps kiss some more?"

"We already get coffee all the time," Apollo says, into Klavier's collar. It's true. They have been on astounding number of coffee not-dates for two people who aren't dating.

"Is that a no?"

"Course not, idiot."

"...Of course not as in—"

Apollo kisses him again to make him stop talking. It works, but only temporarily. As soon as Apollo breaks off, Klavier pouts again and says, "All that whining about me not using my words and you won't even say yes."

"Yes," Apollo says. "Yes, ja, hai, sí. How else do you need me to say it? I let you challenge me to the stupid goddamn pocky game, asshole. Yes, I'll date you."

It turns out Klavier can still be insufferably smug even when he loses. Apollo already knew that, though.

#klapollo #klavier gavin #apollo justice #ace attorney #long post

[tommyspeakycap]

Would you write for John McGinn? anything at all for him haha

you got me

a nasty breakup brings you to the door of the aston villa player, ready to welcome you once again with open arms full of love.

Whistling to himself as he walks from his bathroom to the kitchen of his home, John towel dries off his hair when his doorbell sounds through the house. His immediate reaction is one of question. He tilts his head, furrows his brows and wracks his brain for a memory of potentially making plans that he had then completely forgotten about. Instead, he begins to wonder if there was a chance he had leaked his address and would be met with paparazzi or fans standing on his doorstep. The villa player draws blank on both of those thought processes, and is snapped from them when the a harsh knocking accompanies the sound of said doorbell.

His feet hurry him towards the door, taking the opportunity to look at the doorbell footage he could access from the little alarm box on the wall just next to it. His eyes are met with you standing on his porch dripping from the rain, shivering in soaked clothes and very possibly crying.

He reaches for the door immediately, tugging the heavy thing open with eyes wide, "Bloody hell, you have a key!" He exclaims, ushering you in as he removed his hair towel from around his neck to drape over your shoulders while you close the door behind you. Your lips are a little blue from the winter chill that had blown the cold rain through your clothes. "Forgot it." You chitter, entire body shivering with the painful force to try and conserve some form of heat.

John grabs a bigger towel, one that's much softer and warmer. "Strip off," he orders hurriedly, turning his back to go back into the kitchen and see if he left any clothes in his dryer from the load he put in earlier. "Sh-shouldn't you take me t-t-to dinner first?"

Your half hearted, shivering attempt at a joke doesn't make him laugh like it usually would. He turns around to shoot you a disapproving scowl. "I'll get you some warm clothes, get dried."

You do as told, or attempt to. It's hard when you can't feel your fingers to get a grip on anything more than the zipper of the zip up hoodie you'd had on. You try to shake the material from your shoulders, but your whole body is stiff with the tight muscles that the freezing temperatures had inflicted upon you.

"You'll end up with hypothermia," John rushes, dropping the warm clothes down on the cabinet by the door where you still stand, surrounded by a puddle of rainwater. He works quickly, but carefully to shed you of the zipper, then looks to you for permission to lift your t-shirt over your head. He hands you the warm, dry towel to cover yourself with so he can unclip your soaked bra. Shoes off next, he discards them off behind him as water literally pools from them. You keep that towel around you, patting at your skin as he tries to get your leggings off as painlessly as possible, but every touch still hurts. Your pants, you insist on doing by yourself even if it is a struggle while John holds up the towel.

He didn't bother to even make an attempt at pulling the hair bobble out of your hair, John just snaps the thin black band wordlessly, easily between his fingers before he orders you to flip your hair so he can tied it in another warm towel.

"Why were you out in that?" He asks as he sits you down in his cosy living room with a new, drier towel. You're still chittering, which is worrying but John had learned a lot from coaches behaviours towards the teams when they come off after games played on nights like these. "It's negative 6 degrees."

Warming up was the most important thing, just not too quickly.

You avert your eyes from his, chewing slightly on your lip. "(y/n)," John presses, moving to occupy the space on the couch next to you. You sit forward on the couch so you both sit shoulder to shoulder, his head turns to you while yours faces the floor. "David kicked me out, I didn't have my keys and my phone wasn't charged so I couldn't call you. Busses were off for the weather and the snow covered the train lines yesterday, plus I don't have any money with me so I was scuppered there too. I did some grovelling at the door then I walked here when he wouldn't let me back it."

John's jaw all but hits the floor as anger infiltrates the worry coursing through his veins.

"Don't..." you sigh, trailing off as you stand up with a loose shake of your head. "Don't look at me like that John. I'm gonna go get changed."

The sound of your bare feet padding off through his house holding the warmed pile of his clothes he gave to you was one that he would certainly like to get used to, but you had both done this dance so many times he knew it wasn't something he could count on. Usually you'll call him though, or he'll go and pick you up after a mutual breakup. You've never come on no notice and it's never been because of something like this. John hadn't heard from you in a few weeks either, you had his mind reeling.

Even more so when you reappeared, dry hair tied back out of your face with his grey joggers and black t-shirt drowning you in its size. They were him homebody comfy clothes, so they were bought to be even a little big on him. He had to admit they looked a lot better on you, though.

In the time you were gone, John had made hot chocolate and brought through his biscuit tin to sit on the couch between you both. Words weren't deemed necessary to find a movie he knew you would like. That and he knew you didn't want to talk, so even if he tried it would have been like trying to have a conversation with a brick wall.

He keeps looking over at you, trying to do so discreetly by flicking his eyes over in your direction. Those little giggles at Hugh Grants exasperated facial expressions while James Can disposes of a body in a trunk in the 1999 rom com you loved so much. The movie is good, but your reactions to every time you watch it just like each time is the first time. John can't understand why a man would ever do anything that would wipe that little grin off your perfect lips. How anyone could ever put anyone out on their doorstep in a  storm like that, but least of all someone who was supposed to love you. If it were up to John, you would have been wrapped in a blanket the second the rain pour started, curled in his arms falling asleep to the sound of the thunder rumble and the rain pattering against the street. That was his dream, the one he couldn't keep a girlfriend because of. All he wanted was you and nobody else ever lived up to that.

He wishes he could scream at you, tell you that those very sorry excuses for men that you end up with and what you have with them isn't love. Or maybe you do love them, but they do not love you. They like the idea of you, someone free spirited and always ready to fall in love.

It truly seemed as though you could fall in love with anyone but the one man who wanted you the most.

Watching you fall asleep on his couch, head resting on the high armrest with knees curled up and his blanket still tucked around you with a tiny little bit of chocolate on the corner of your lip sends his heart racing a mile a minute. It feels so right to have you there. He feels guilty for enjoying it. Your heart was broken even if you wouldn't say a word about it and here he was enjoying it.

He uses his foot to push open the spare bedroom door just along the hall from his room. John lays you down carefully on top of the duvet, letting your head nuzzle into his plush pillows as your eyes remain shut in soft sleep. He grabs another blanket for you and makes sure the heating is right up in the room before he leaves you there with an ache in his chest.

He goes to check on you in the middle of the night, finding you not in the room but instead standing in his kitchen still shrouded in blankets with crazy sleep hair and tired eyes.

“Can’t sleep?” He asks, startling you ever so slightly. You shrug, moving to take a seat at his kitchen island. “Woke up and got all messed up thinking about how i have literally nothing.” You mumble in response, your voice thick with the desire to burst into tears. It breaks his heart to see you so defeated, your eyes never meeting his as they stare pointedly down at the marble surface. “I’m sorry.” John says, “Really. He’s an arsehole. I can go round and grab some stuff for you tomorrow if you want.” He offers, his apology as sincere as they come. But you shake your head with only a quick glance up at him. John isn’t hot tempered at all. He’s mellow, easygoing and funny. Never quick to anger and never the type to get into a fight but by god is he protective of you. You worry about the kind of blow that would come to his career if he gets an assault charge against your ex when he inevitably doesn’t let John into the house to get any of your stuff while probably barraging you with insults.

“It’s not worth it.” You admit. “It’s less physical. Just leaves me empty, i guess. ‘Cause i gave everything to that relationship and how i have nothing left to give.” The heartbreak and the weight of your words will weigh on John’s mind probably for years to come. How someone could do that to you he will never understand. There’s nothing he wants more in this world than for you to be his to love. He wants to shower you with praise, make you realise how strong you are and remind you every single day that he loves you. That’s what you deserve. You deserve kindness and encouragement and support. He wishes more than anything to be the guy who could give that to you instead of watching you enter into relationships with the worst men he’s ever known only to see you torn down at the other side of it.

“You’ve got me.” He offers. He knows that’s probably not what you want to hear and it might not give you the kind of relief he wishes he could give. But you smile softly and stand up, shuffling over to him under blankets and his warm clothes until you reach him. You don’t really hug him, just lean against him with your cheek on his chest. John wraps his arms around you tightly and feels you sigh contently. He’s your John. The burly Scottish lad who makes you laugh when you feel like crying, who looks after you and keeps you pushing forward when life feels like it’s stacked against you. “Yeah. I love you, John.” You hum softy. John can feel the small smile on your lips against the thin material of the shirt he wore to sleep in because his house was like a sauna with the heating to keep your warm. He can tell you’re about to fall asleep there because he supports most of your weight. He holds you to him, rubbing your back soothingly as you nod ever so slightly against him.

“Even when i’ve got nothing, i’ve got you.”

#john mcginn #john mcginn x reader #john mcginn imagine #john mcginn imagines #footie fics #football fics #footballers fics #football imagines

[hxwks-gf]

ー don’t make me beg

pairing: bakugo x reader

summary: you run into bakugo, your ex-boyfriend, at a party. heated confessions ensue. 

warnings: swearing, mentions of drinking, some suggestive themes, bakugo is a subby simp at the end lmfao i couldn’t resist. everyone is 21+ because drinking

w/c: 2.7k 

a/n: so this thought actually came to me randomly in the middle of the night last night and i just now got around to writing it out. for optimal reading experience, listen to these songs as you read (i’ll put another link in the actual fic as a reminder, idk you don’t have to i just thought it would be fun) 

♫  outre lux - onism

♫  fire for you - cannons

♫  all your love - jakob ogawa

9:27 PM

“I don’t know,” you sighed into the phone, rolling over on your back and kicking your feet up against the wall of your bedroom. You wiggled your toes in their mismatched socks and pouted. “I’m not really in a party mood tonight, Mina.” 

“C’mon,” she whined on the other end, in that strange “Mina” way that almost always got you to say yes. “Just for a little bit! We’ve been working so hard at the agency, we deserve a night off for once!” 

You sighed again and sat up normally, resting your chin in your hand. She had a point: you were both worked to the bone from the seemingly endless patrols and stacks of paperwork. Who knew that this is where you would end up at after graduation? Your eyes flickered over to your closet, already putting an outfit together in your head. “Alright, fine. But only for a little bit.” 

Mina squealed in excitement. “Perfect! This will be good, I promise.” 

♫  outre lux - onism

Not long after the call had ended, Mina came and picked you up and drove you to a different part of town you vaguely recognized. She led you up the steps of an apartment building, and you could already hear the bass of the music reverberating through the walls. The room was a few floors up and at the end of a long hall with the door propped open. Mina carelessly let herself inside, dragging you with her by your hand. 

“Mina!” a familiar voice called over the music. Your eyes wandered along the various groups of partygoers, admiring the glow from the neon signs that decorated the walls. There were a few people you recognized: Midoriya and Ururaka were awkwardly dancing together, with Iida not too far away from them. There were others from your graduating class, including Kirishima, who was walking towards you and Mina with a wide grin on his face. 

“You made it!” he said, stopping in front of you. “Thanks for coming, you guys! Help yourselves to some drinks, there’s also some pizza left, I think.” 

Mina hugged him. “For sure! But right now, I just really want to dance.” She turned towards you and raised her eyebrows. “Wanna come?” 

“I’ll be okay,” you said as you ushered her forward. “I’ll find you later, alright?” 

She nodded and disappeared into the group of people, leaving you alone with Kirishima, who awkwardly rubbed the back of his head. 

“It’s awesome that you came, y/n,” he said, flashing another grin. “Wasn’t sure if you were going to.” 

You shrugged your shoulders. “Mina has a way with words, you know?” 

Kirishima laughed. “That she does.” 

“So if this is your party….” Your words trailed off as your eyes slid across the faces of everyone in the room, feeling like everything was slowing down around you. A slow, bass-boosted song started playing. “...does that mean Katsuki is here?” 

Your gaze answered your own question once they landed on your ex-boyfriend standing off in the corner with Kaminari. He was arguing with him about something, his hand tightly gripping the red solo cup and the other pointed menacingly at Denki’s goofy expression. God, he looked good. He was wearing your favorite shirt of his: a simple black v-neck, paired with his nicest jeans that hugged his ass perfectly. For a brief moment, you met Kaminari’s eyes, and his face changed. He leaned over and whispered something in Bakugo’s ear. 

Bakugo’s head turned and his crimson gaze landed on you standing near the entrance with Kirishima. You swallowed nervously, staring right back at him, and it felt as if the entire room melted away and left just the two of you. 

“...sorry, I should’ve told Mina ahead of time,” you heard Kirishima saying to you. You squeezed your hands into fists at your sides. 

“It’s alright,” you found yourself replying. You broke your gaze from Bakugo and offered Kirishima a reassuring smile. “We’re adults here, right? I came to relax and have fun.” 

The lie almost sounded believable. But Kirishima said nothing about it and simply returned your grin, pushing you towards the kitchen. “Get a drink or two in you,” he said, blocking Bakugo from view. “I’m sure Mina needs a dance partner soon.” 

♫  fire for you - cannons

“Right,” you laughed, and he left you alone in the kitchen. Once he was out of earshot, you released the nervous breath you had been holding and tried to still your trembling hands. It had been just a few months since you and Bakugo had “mutually” split, but in reality, it had been his idea. He wanted to focus on his career and you wanted to get more serious. As you opened the refrigerator, you remembered the teary, sniffling goodbye you gave him on the steps of your apartment building as he carried a box of his stuff. He didn’t so much as bat an eye. 

“You’re an adult, you’re here to have fun, just don’t think about him,” you muttered to yourself as you cracked open a bottle of cider. 

“Think about who?” 

You jumped in surprise and nearly dropped your drink. “Jesus,” you groaned, and then glared at Bakugo standing in the doorway, his hands tucked into his jeans. “Don’t fucking sneak up on someone like that.” 

The corner of his mouth lifted up in a smile. “You were always so easy to scare.” 

A blush crept into your cheeks and you looked away from him. “What do you want?” you asked, taking a sip of your drink. The floor of the kitchen suddenly became incredibly fascinating as you avoided meeting his eyes. 

“Didn’t think you’d be here tonight,” he said. “Did Raccoon Eyes con you into it?” 

“Don’t call her that,” you said sharply, looking up at him again. “And no, she didn’t con me into it. I wanted to come.” You gave him a once-over. “What are you doing here, anyway? You hate things like this.” 

Bakugo leaned against the doorframe and shrugged. “Kirishima said that if I came, other people would too. Guess I’m just popular.” 

“Right,” you said sarcastically, rolling your eyes and fiddling with the bottle in your hands. “I don’t think popular is the right word I would use.” 

He took a few steps closer to you and you could smell his cologne. It was the scent he knew you loved the most, you noticed. Interesting. Wearing your favorite shirt and your favorite cologne? It was almost like he knew you were planning on coming tonight. 

“What’s the word you would use then?” he asked, his voice low and gravelly as he leaned back against the sink, his hands bracing on the edge of the counter on either side of him. You didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of being overpowered, so you stood your ground and refused to move from your spot, taking another drink of cider. 

“What are you talking about?” you asked, risking a glance at him. You instantly regretted it. He was looking at you with that rare expression of admiration that only you ever had the privilege of seeing behind closed doors when the two of you were still together, but it still made your heart beat faster and faster, even now. 

“The word you would use,” he said, blinking slowly at you. “Or do I still have that effect on you? That makes you forget what you were saying?” 

“You’re so full of shit, I need a plunger,” you snapped, turning away from him and escaping to the other side of the kitchen. “What are you doing? Why are you talking to me?” 

For a moment, Bakugo actually looked….hurt. His Adam’s apple bobbed in his throat as he swallowed, but a brief moment and it was gone. “I’m sorry,” he said tightly, crossing his arms. “Enjoy the party, y/n.” Without letting you reply, he stalked out of the kitchen and disappeared from view, leaving you all alone, confused and trembling and….sad. 

“Jesus Christ,” you muttered, and you stared at the bottle in your hands. You blew a raspberry at it and tipped it back, downing the rest of the cider in a few, full gulps. He wasn’t allowed to ruin the fun you were supposed to be having tonight. You tossed the bottle into the recycling bin and left the kitchen. 

“y/n!” Mina called to you from the middle of the living room, where most of the dancing was. She was swaying and shimmying to the song that was playing, her hands in the air and her face in a state of perpetual happiness. “Dance with me!” 

“Alright,” you laughed, slipping into the midst of the dancers and following her movements. After a while, you felt yourself slowly beginning to relax, nearly forgetting your awkward encounter with Bakugo in the kitchen. You deserved this. You deserved to have fun, and he wasn’t going to take it from you. 

“I hear that He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named is here,” Mina said into your ear over the music with a comedic grimace on her face. “Did he talk to you?” 

You nodded. “Yeah, in the kitchen. He was acting weird.” 

“Probably because you looked hot as fuck tonight and he realized what exactly he’s been missing,” she said. Her eyes lit up with mischief. “What if you made him jealous?” 

“I don’t want anyone getting wheeled out of here on a gurney,” you laughed, but the thought remained in the back of your head. You did look good tonight, and there was bound to be someone who wanted to have a couple dances with you. But what would you gain from it? It would just be sending Bakugo the message that you weren’t over him yet (which was true, but he didn’t need to know that). “I think I just want to dance, have a few more drinks, and that’s it.” 

Mina rolled her eyes but nodded. “Fair enough.” 

But as hard as you tried to forget, your mind kept going back to Bakugo. His scent, his voice, his warmthーyou fucking missed him, you missed him so much it hurt. Seeing him for the first time in months from across the room had hit you like a truck and flooded your mind with memories of his kiss, his touch, and his love. The harder you danced, the heavier it weighed on your mind, until a pit of nausea bubbled in your stomach. 

“I think I’m going to take a break,” you said to Mina over the music. The room suddenly felt cramped and small, with too many people and too much noise. You needed fresh air. But as you slipped out of the group of dancers, you saw that the patio was full of people standing around and mingling. 

“Shit,” you muttered, and turned around to make your way to the bathroom. It was so loud. Were there this many people when you first came here? 

♫  all your love - jakob ogawa

As you moved past bodies standing in the hallway, you were sure you heard someone call your name, but you didn’t stop until you were safely behind the door of the bathroom. The music was muffled and shook the walls as you leaned against the sink, glaring at your reflection. 

“Get it together,” you hissed at yourself. “It’s just a fucking party.” 

Someone knocked outside, startling you. “In use!” you called out. 

“It’s me,” Bakugo’s voice came from the other side. “Can you let me in?” 

You felt your heart drop. He was the last person you wanted on the other side of that door. But somehow, you found your hand twisting the knob and cracking it open, meeting his eyes through it. 

“You alright?” 

“I’m fine,” you lied, trying to keep your voice level. 

“You sure?” Bakugo knew you weren’t telling the truth.  

“Yes,” you replied, but your voice cracked on the word. You squeezed your eyes shut and inwardly groaned. You could smell his scent again, as well as feel the ever-present warmth that never seemed to leave him. 

Before you could protest, Bakugo was pushing the door open and letting himself in, careful to close and lock it behind him. You backed away and sat on the edge of the bathtub, not wanting to meet his eyes. However, he knelt in front of you and tilted his head to the side, bracing his hands on either side of you. 

“What’s going on?” he asked, and his voice rumbled through you like a waterfall. 

“Rich of you to ask that,” you muttered, feeling the shameful sting of tears in your eyes. 

He sighed. “I really am sorry for what happened, y/n.” 

This wasn’t like him to apologize so brazenly. You risked a glance up at him, and he was looking at you so intensely, you immediately averted your gaze. But a brief moment later and you felt his index finger beneath your chin, slowly lifting it so you were forced to look at him again. 

“Why are you doing this?” you whimpered, a single tear slipping out and sliding down your cheek. “We broke up, Katsuki. You wanted to break up.” 

His jaw set. “I know,” he growled, his thumb reaching up and swiping the tear away. “But I just...I can’t imagine you with anyone else. I can’t imagine being with anyone else.” 

“Stop it,” you sniffled, pulling your chin away and swatting at his hand. “Stop. You don’t get to do this. You don’t get to hold me on the end of a leash like this, and tightening it whenever you’re in your feelings. At the end of it all, you were the one who left, Katsuki. And it’s not fair to me.” 

He stared at you with wide eyes. For a minute, he looked like the regular Bakugo. But it passed, and he dropped his eyes in shame. 

“I know it’s not fair,” he muttered, sitting back and resting his arms on his knees. He stared at his hands. “I don’t know why I’m doing it. It’s just...seeing you tonight for the first time in months, you looked so fucking beautiful and I felt so fucking stupid.” 

You looked down at him from where you sat on the edge of the tub, your eyes blurring with tears. “What do you want from me, Katsuki?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper. 

“I want you to come home!” he exploded, looking up at you with a fierceness in his eyes, it almost frightened you. “I fucking miss you, alright? I hate waking up in an empty bed in the mornings.” He ground his teeth and glared at his hands again. “I miss your laugh. I miss those goddamn stupid songs you would play when you did the dishes. I just miss you.” 

You closed your eyes and took a trembling breath. “So what are you saying?” you asked, feeling your fingernails dig into your palms. “Do you want to get back together? Is that what you want?” 

“Don’t make me beg,” you heard him mutter. 

Oh. Oh. Your eyes opened and you looked down at him again. He saw the wicked glint in your gaze and he ran his hands through his hair with a scoff. 

“No,” he said, glaring at you. “I didn’t mean it like that.” 

“That sucks,” you simpered. “I’ll see you around then, Katsuki.” You made to get up and leave the bathroom, but his hand shot out and wrapped around your wrist, forcing you to stop. 

“y/n,” he growled. 

You arched an eyebrow down at him. “Yes?” 

A moment passed and he forcefully exhaled through his nose, as if working himself up to something. 

“Please,” he finally spoke through gritted teeth. 

“Please what?” 

“Can we please try again?” Bakugo asked, his fingers tightening around your wrist. 

You reached down and lifted his chin with an index finger, much like he did with you. His crimson eyes burned so hot as they met your own, and you smiled at him. 

“I like it when you beg,” you murmured, and a furious blush blossomed across his cheeks. “You should do it more often.” 

“Is that a yes?” he asked as he got to his feet, now towering over you. 

“Perhaps,” you mused, taking your bottom lip in between your teeth. “I’ll decide in the morning after you’ve made me breakfast.” 

“Breakfastー?” Bakugo stopped and grinned. “Oh, you think you’re funny, do you?” His hands wrapped around your waist and he pulled you into his chest, dipping his head to brush a gentle but sultry kiss across your lips. “Good enough for me.” 

#bro i'm living for simp!bakugo #i need more of him #anyways tell me what you guys thought of incorporating music into it #bakugou katsuki #bakugo katsuki #bakugou x reader #bakugou x you #bakugou x y/n #bakugou fanfiction #bakugou fanfic #my hero academia #my hero academia fanfiction #boku no hero academia #boku no hero academia fanfiction

[winterscaptain]

constellations.

Aaron Hotchner x Gender Neutral Reader

a/n: as usual, an ajf fic that requires very little context. i’m so sorry this took so long!! i was busy thinking about how to quit my job this week and then KIRA CAME TO VISIT ME (we’re being safe and covid-conscious!) so this took a couple of days longer than expected. also - i see your beautiful messages! i will keep chipping away at them :)

you can expect the route 66 fic on tuesday at 11pm pdt!

words: 4.4k warnings: canon-typical discussions of violence, some mention of canon-typical sexual assault, language

summary: as hotch recovers from the explosion in new york, you find yourself more concerned than you expected. (au!2008)

masterlist | a joyful future master list | requests closed!

“The Angel Maker. I remember the case.” 

It’s a fairly normal start to the week, with a case packed and ready for you at 10am. Aaron was out of the field for a week or so with his injuries, but his presence at the round table and the go bag you spotted beside his desk this morning warms you. 

He’s back. Not completely, but that’s better than not at all. 

“They caught that guy.” Reid’s flipping through the case file, but you know he’s got one ear open. 

Rossi’s on the same page, and finishes Reid’s thought. “And executed him.” 

“That’s right,” JJ says. “He was put to death by lethal injection a year ago yesterday.” 

You release a little breath you were holding. “Yesterday?”

That’s a clear enough trigger for a fanatic. It wasn’t the first time you’d seen something like this, either with your tenure at the BAU or in previous case studies at the academy. It was always a little shocking - the lengths people go to complete the work of the devil they romanticize...

Derek throws a finger at you as if to say Exactly. “So we’re looking for a copycat.” 

“Honoring the anniversary of his hero’s death.” Dave sits back in his chair, almost satisfied. You smile a little. 

The confidence of a seasoned profiler. 

Aaron catches your smile, and his lips pull just the barest amount. You shake your head, suppressing a wider grin. 

Funny, isn’t it?

His brows tug. What?

It’s so...normal. And so predictable. You sit back, peering at Aaron over your copy of the file. He huffs (you recognize it as a laugh, though the rest of his face remains exactly the same) and turns his attention toward Reid, who’s still flipping through the file. 

“It says here they found semen at the crime scene. Perhaps locals will get a DNA match through VICAP?” When you follow Aaron’s gaze to Spencer, you’re not surprised to see him already absorbed in the latter half of the report. 

“See, that’s where things get weird.” Her face screws up. “They already ran it, and got a match.” She throws the file toward you, and you open it. 

“If they already have a name, why’d they call us?” Emily’s confusion is swallowed up in your own. 

“You’ve got to be kidding.” You look over at Hotch, who takes the file from your hands. “The match they got back on the DNA is to Courtland Bryce Ryan -” 

Hotch lets out a sharp huff. “The Angel Maker.” You meet his gaze again. 

This is going to be a weird one. 

“Wheels up in thirty.” 

+++

You lean against the back of Hotch’s chair, peering over his shoulder as ideas bounce around the cabin. He’s focused on Reid along with the rest of you as the younger agent spins a theory. 

Derek’s the first one to question his particularly amusing line of thought. “Reid, you’re not seriously floating the idea of an evil twin, are you?”

“No. I’m floating the idea of an eviler twin.” Reid looks dead serious, and Hotch glances up at you. You shake your head a little, and he shrugs before restoring his attention. “Traditionally the concept is good twin and an evil twin. But in this case, it’s evil twin, eviler twin.” 

You swallow a laugh as both Derek and Emily look at him like he’s grown three extra heads all at once. 

Before any of you can say anything, Aaron’s hand rises to his forehead and his face scrunches up in pain. You place a hand on his shoulder from over the seat, patting him for his attention. “Hotch?” 

He hums something that sounds like, “Yeah?”

“Are you cleared to fly?”

He sucks in a breath to cover a wince, and you take that as a no. 

You sink your hands into his hair as he tips his head back against the seat with his eyes closed. The tips of your fingers find the little pressure points around his head, and you lean forward, keeping your voice soft. “Does that help?”

He nods, just a little, and you’re satisfied. You look at Derek over Hotch’s head, and he looks just as concerned as you feel. 

+++

“I give you a legacy. A breath of life from the Angel Maker himself. Those who prayed to forget me will one day see my face and shrink in fear.” Reid recites aloud from the letter, and you listen with your head propped on your hand. 

The sheriff sighs and crosses his arms. “That’s the last thing people need right now.” 

“Reid, how does that compare with the original correspondence?” Derek ignores the sheriff, redirecting his attention to the letter and the genius holding it. 

You jump on Derek’s line of thinking. “It can’t be authentic, can it?” You drop your hand from your chin and lean toward Spencer, feeling Aaron hover over your shoulder. 

“They share some compelling characteristics. I’d obviously like to look at it under a magnification under a better light…”

Obviously.

Hotch’s voice almost startles you, right by your ear. “Best guess, Reid?”

“I’d say it’s authentic.” Rather than looking at Hotch, he looks at you. Your furrowed brow speaks for everyone present. 

“How can it be authentic if the guy’s been dead for over a year?” Looking over at Hotch, you hope he has something better than paranormal speculation. 

He doesn’t disappoint. “It could be an elaborate forgery.” 

“Or,” Reid adds, “it could be a genuine article, just written before his death.” 

You hum. “That's my favorite of the theories so far.” 

The sheriff shakes his head, coming up on your other side. It’s almost comical the way you’re all crowded around the letter. “Mail here isn’t that slow.” 

Derek’s the only one who hasn’t joined you. He’s still happily posted up at the desk, leaning against it with his arms crossed. You glance at him before offering, “Could have been released through an intermediary.”

“You mean the copycat?” Reid asks. 

Nodding, you suggest, “He could be buried in those visitor logs - we’re checking them out now to see who visited Ryan and how often.” 

Derek finally joins you. “That’ll narrow the suspect pool.”

Hotch flinches again and his fingers press to his brow as the front door opens, allowing the rush of a truck to sound through the room. 

“Hotch?”

He waves you off. “I’m fine.” 

Liar. 

There’s nothing you can do. 

+++

You’re with Derek in one of the interrogation rooms, going through letter upon letter from Ryan’s time in prison. “What happens if Hotch actually loses his hearing?” You can’t help the overwhelming notes of concern coloring your voice. “I mean, what are we going to say to Strauss? ‘Excuse me ma’am, if our unit chief goes deaf because he won’t fucking slow down, can he still be our unit chief?’ I mean - “

You shut your mouth as Hotch walks into the room. Shame floods through you. It was more than unkind to talk about him behind his back as it was, and here you were - broadcasting your worst fears about his condition to one of your closest mutual friends. 

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean -” 

Aaron once again waves you off. “It’s alright.” He comes to rest beside you, and you reach for his arm in apology. 

“How are you feeling?”

He shakes his head, and Derek leaves the two of you alone, closing the door behind him. Hotch looks over his shoulder, satisfied that you’re on your own. 

“Dizzy. Nauseated. Tired.” It’s like a checklist - matter-of-fact and without bias. 

You take stock of him. The cuts on his face are healing nicely, and the bruise on his cheek is fading. The bags under his eyes, though, betray the lack of sleep. “What can I do?”

He shakes his head with something that isn’t a smile if you don’t know him. “Nothing. Just keep doing good work.” 

“I’m sorry,” you blurt. “I didn’t mean to be insensitive earlier.” 

“I know.” 

“I’m just worried, is all.” Your voice tapers off at the end of your thought, just a little embarrassed. 

A little breath leaves his nose, and you know it’s sort of a laugh. “I know.” He presses a hand to your shoulder for a moment before diving into one of the boxes himself.

+++

Hotch walks quickly, and you keep up as best you can as he informs the sheriff, “I have to advise against this.” 

“All due respect, this isn’t your town. I have to convince them that Courtland Ryan is dead and buried.” 

Hotch glances back at you, and you shrug. 

Small towns. Serial killers. What are you gonna do?

The cemetery is relatively quiet, the sleepy town waiting for something to happen with bated breath. It’s not like anyone would be taking late-night walks anytime soon. 

His head tips, and you know he agrees. Nevertheless, he turns back toward the sheriff. “You’re indulging the killer by perpetuating the ruse he’s created.” 

Nice. Five dollar words for the two-bit sheriff. 

“He’s right. It may embolden him. Prompt more murders.” Emily says, watching the proceedings with a discerning eye. You can only agree. 

The sheriff shakes his head. “Celia lost her only daughter to that murdering bastard. We met when I was working the case and had gotten close. I thought we were past all this, but...I guess I was kidding myself.” 

The crane starts up, and there’s a sinking feeling that you’ve forgotten about something as the chains tighten and begin to lift the coffin. All at once, you remember and turn as Hotch steps away, his hand over his ear and the other pressed against his brow again. 

You hover beside him, not sure what to do. Pressing your hands to his forearms, you do your best to shield him from some of the sound with your body. 

He makes a weak attempt to wave you off, but his voice startles you. It’s so small as he insists, “I’m alright. I’m fine. Just -”

“Hotch -”

“I’m okay I’m okay I’m okay. Yeah.” 

You don’t believe him for a second, but as the noise decreases, so does his agony. He removes his hands from his ears for a moment. He’s blinking rapidly, looking simultaneously dazed and far too aware. 

“Aaron…”

He shakes his head. “Don’t. I’m fine. I’m okay.” 

Your lips press into a thin line and you remove your hands from his arms. “Take it easy. I can’t make your life hell if you can’t hear me, alright?”

Your teasing has the intended effect, and he levels you with his signature glare that’s only halfway playful. 

+++

“The victim is Maxine Chandler. The neighbors say she’s lived here her whole life. All twenty-eight years of it.” 

The house is infused with the presence of children - play structures, toys, the whole nine. Aaron voices your thoughts. “How many kids does she have?” 

“None of her own. She runs a daycare. The guy who called 911 came here to drop off his toddler and found Maxine in her bedroom.”

That’s an eventful morning. 

“Well,” you note, “now that we have more than one victim, we can compare victimology.” 

Hotch nods, and you meet his eyes for a moment. “Different data points should help us significantly narrow the profile.” 

“I’ll get JJ to bring us the files on the first victim.” Morgan says, his phone already in his hand. 

“What did you find?” 

The coroner runs you through his findings, and they’re not much different from the first murder, but there is one notable difference. 

“Nine puncture wounds,” Emily notes, her dark eyes roaming over the body. 

You’re close to Hotch, watching them bounce off each other. It’s always inspiring to watch them. As close as you and Aaron are, you were deeply impressed but his professional relationship with Emily. There’s part of you that chalks it up to your age - they are only two years apart. They form their own little age bracket on the team while you, JJ, and Spencer make up the younger strata. 

More often than not, the three of you were able to keep up with each other just like Emily and Aaron. 

“Can I have your pen?” Emily asks.

“Yeah.” Hotch pulls the pen from his inside pocket, handing it over into her eager hands. “What is it?” 

You wait as she doodles something into her notepad before her head whips up. “She did this.” 

“What do you mean?” You’re not following, and you can tell Hotch isn’t either. 

“The unsub. She made this before she made the puncture wounds.” 

Hotch tips his chin, understanding. “That’s why the coroner found paper in the wounds.” 

“It was a template. The Angel Maker did it from memory, but she needed a guide to get it right.” 

You pull your phone out, already dialing Reid as Hotch says. “We need to go back and re-examine each of the patterns. Where’s Reid?” 

“Spence. Hey. We have something for you.” You pass the phone and a little smile to Hotch, who takes both with a grateful look. 

Emily watches the exchange, feeling suddenly like an outsider - almost an intruder. There’s something between you two, always has been, but this moment is such a clean-cut outline of it. You’re constantly anticipating the needs of the other, ready with a warmth and fondness at a moment’s notice. 

She sees it again when he presses your phone back into your waiting hand. You take it and brush past him as he turns over his shoulder to follow you out the door. It almost looks choreographed. In fairness, you’d both done it what feels like thousands of times before. 

When you pause in the living room, both turning at the same time when Derek calls for Hotch, a shadow of a thought crosses her mind. It’s gone before it’s truly there, and she lets it go. 

+++

Reid’s finally cracked it, and you’re all crowded around him again as he explains what he’s found. He profiled the author, figured out the cypher used by the Aryan Brotherhood, and generally made use of his insane brain. The patterns themselves are constellations, woven into every aspect of their relationship. 

You find a smile breaking out over your face as you listen to Spencer spin. Hotch leans over and whispers, “He hasn’t let loose in a while, has he?” You’re standing on his left, of course, just in case. 

Shaking your head, you laugh a little. Emily’s looking at Spencer like he’s from another planet. She pokes him and voices the thought you’ve all had at least once. “He’s so lifelike.”

Her comment gets a laugh out of you and a smile out of Aaron. You’re warmed by it. 

+++

You clear and search Chloe Kelcher’s house, staying firmly attached to Aaron’s seven o’clock position, right off his left shoulder. 

“Alright. We all know what the endgame is. She’s looking for her final victim. She may have already chosen one.” Hotch looks around, suggesting assignments with the flicker of his eyes around the house. “Let’s tear this place apart, look for anything that might tell us who she’s targeted.”

You follow Hotch and Derek into the nursery, noting the stars on the ceiling. The crib captures your attention - the carefully placed onesie indicating the pain of a woman in denial. Your brow crumples, and Aaron steps up beside you, nudging a couple of stuffed animals out of the way as a cursory search. 

“You okay?”

“Yeah, just...thinking.” The trigger is as clear as a neon sign, and you’re sure much saner people would break down like this at the loss of a child. There’s a silent prompting as he stands beside you, waiting for you to elaborate. “I dunno. I can just see how someone close to reasonable would be in bad enough shape after something like this, not to mention someone as unstable as our unsub.” 

He sighs. “It must have devastated her to think that she could hold on to Ryan by having his child and then lose the baby.” 

Derek hums from across the room, joining the conversation. “Completing his murders became the only way she could hold onto him.”

Something strikes Aaron then - something intangible. He turns and opens the trunk in the corner of the room. Its contents pull your upper lip up in disgust.

With a dubious pair of eyebrows, Aaron notes, “Not the only way.” 

“Guess that answers that.” 

+++

You reach the final victim’s house, and you can only hope you’ve made it in time. Hotch immediately assumes authority, leading collaboration between the BAU and local law enforcement. He assigns Derek to find an opening into the house, while he directs the sheriff to bring all the cars to the front, no lights. 

He finds a megaphone for Emily, and you take your place at his left side, crouched to take the low firing point through the car’s open window. 

“Hit the lights,” he directs, and they do. 

All at once, it’s bright - nearly daylight. Emily starts talking, and you’re singularly focused on the front of the house. The windows, the door, and the curtains are all within your purview. You glance up at Hotch, who glances down at you. He unholsters his weapon, and you bump his hip with your elbow and return your attention to the front of the house

“Go into the pouch next to my extra magazines.” 

You can sense rather than see his frown. 

“Just trust me. Open it.” 

His left hand finds your belt while he continues to scan the area, unclipping the pouch without looking. You hear a huff of laughter as he finds what you left for him. 

“Put one in your right ear and don’t argue with me.” Your voice is still low, but you dropped into the tone you learned from him, only half-joking. 

He rolls his eyes and stuffs the foam earplug in his bad ear before unholstering his weapon. 

“Door,” you warn as the front screen opens.  

“Chloe. Drop the gun.” Aaron’s voice is heavy with authority, and the sheriff backs him up. 

The world slows down when she raises the gun toward you all, and the sheriff fires. Despite the earplug, Aaron immediately collapses, dropping his service weapon at your feet and covering his ears with his hands. You holster your weapon and turn toward him on sheer instinct. 

You retrieve the gun, checking the safety and slipping it into your waistband. When you return your attention to him, he’s almost folded completely into himself, pained groans leaving him. Rossi beat you to him, half-holding him up, but he shifts Aaron to you when you reach them both. 

“Aaron.” You wrap him in your arms and he takes some of his weight as his feet get back under him. He leans into you, and you do your best to support him. “Hotch, are you okay?”

He reaches out, finding your arm and gripping tight. You stay steady, almost in tears. It’s agonizing to see him in pain. 

“I’m okay. I’m okay.”

Liar.

+++

The next day, it’s decided he’ll drive one of the cars home, instead of taking the plane. 

You laugh as Derek throws the keys at Spencer. Hotch steps up beside you, throwing his go bag in one of the cars. Going out on a bit of a limb, you ask, “Want any company?” You keep your voice low, just in case anyone’s listening. 

First of all, you don’t want to out yourself in front of your colleagues - they all know how much you care about him and you don’t want them getting any ideas. Second of all, you know how Hotch gets when he’s alone too long. 

He raises his eyebrows for a second, but Dave interrupts his thought before he can share it with you. “Why don’t you two drive together? It’ll be a better trip with some company and you can’t stand the rest of us for more than three hours at a time.” 

Hotch snorts. “Fine.” He looks over at you and you shrug and throw your go bag in the backseat with his. 

“I’m good with that. What are you thinkin’? Straight through, or are we taking a the scenic route?”

Dave pipes in again. “I think a couple of days could do you both some good. It’s been a long few weeks.” 

You and Hotch look at each other. You look back at Dave. “Good idea. See you Tuesday?”

He nods and joins the rest of the team in the other car, slipping into the passenger seat. 

+++

The car is quiet for the first half hour or so. You’re driving - it’s the only way Aaron can hear you in the car, so you’ll probably nap or post up in the backseat when it’s his turn to take the wheel. 

You glance over at him before you hit the state line. “You’re thinking very loudly over there.” 

A smile pulls at his lips. The heel of his hand supports his cheekbone as his elbow rests on the window ledge. “Am I?”

“Mhmm.” 

He shrugs a little. “It’s weird not driving.” 

“Ah. So that’s why you’ve been silent for the last…” you check the clock on the dash, “thirty nine minutes.” You’re teasing him and he knows it, but it’s also loaded with questions. 

There’s silence, and you wait for him. It’s another thing you’ve learned about him in the last year. Sometimes he’s quiet, but he never avoids you for long. 

“I’m thinking about Kate.” 

There he is. 

You prompt him a little, intrinsically knowing he needs a direction. “Did she have family?”

He nods. “An older sister. She’s flying in from London for the service, but their parents are gone and she wasn’t married, so...that’s it.” 

Still looking at the road, you reach out, wrapping your fingers around his forearm. “I’m so sorry, Aaron.” 

His hand covers yours for a second. “Thanks.”

You pull back, adjusting your grip on the wheel. A question pushes at your lips, but you roll it around in your head before you really consider asking it aloud. 

“You can ask.” 

Your head whips toward him for just a moment. “What?”

“You can ask,” he repeats, the shadow of a smile crossing his face. “I know you want to.”

You concede with a little chuff. “Fine. What happened between you and Kate?” 

“In what sense?” He’s totally fucking with you, and you shove at his shoulder. 

“You know exactly what I mean.” 

He shakes his head. “Alright, fine. There was…” he searches, “a moment when she and I were finished working together on the Scotland Yard case that something...happened.” 

“Something?”

“Well,” he amends, “nothing actually happened, but let’s just say she had a couple too many and made her intentions very clear.” 

Can’t blame her for that one. 

Yeah, and that’s why we don’t get drunk with everyone else. Shit happens. 

You glanced at him, suppressing a smile. “So what happened?”

He shakes his head, and there’s a sort of dry humor in his voice when he answers,“Obviously, she was pretty out of it, so I took her back to her place and made sure she was settled for the night with a glass of water and some aspirin.” A smile cuts through his huff of laughter. You’re not surprised to hear mourning in it, too. “She was miserable in the morning, and called me to ask what happened the night before. I may have...very loosely implied that something small might have happened, just to save her the embarrassment.” 

He pauses, and you know he’s a little reluctant to be this vulnerable - you’re almost sure he never expected to tell this story to anyone, let alone you. 

“The attraction was mutual, so I didn’t feel too bad about omitting the consequences of her…” he searches for a word again, “forwardness. It was - is - something I respect about her both personally and professionally.” 

“Did you ever tell Haley?”

He shook his head. “I told her the truth - that she needed some help getting home, I set her up for the night, and came right back. She wasn’t thrilled, but she and Kate got on well enough that she didn’t mind too much. I think she was more annoyed that I got home so late even without a case, now that I’m thinking about it.” 

You laugh a little. “That sounds like her.” 

“She wasn't always like this, you know.” His voice takes on something a little more pensive, and you settle deeper into your seat to let him know you’re listening, even if your eyes hardly stray from the road. “We had a ridiculous amount of fun together when we were younger - first married, I was fresh out of law school, everything ahead of us, and all that.” He heaves a sigh. “It’s really only since Jack was born that things got...bad.”

He pauses, thinking for a moment. “I wish I could explain the work to her - I sometimes wish she could see it, even though I never actually want her to see the things we see every day.”

You keep your voice light, understanding. “I get that. It can’t be easy knowing that we’re your family, too, and even that’s difficult to explain.” 

There’s silence, and you know there’s a tacit agreement in it. 

His next comment comes a little from left field, but it makes you smile. “She likes you, by the way. She really does.” 

“Good.” You glance over at him. “I’m glad.” 

There’s something he wants to say, and you raise your eyebrows expectantly, knowing he can see it in your profile. 

“Would you want to come over sometime and spend some time with Jack? I -” he exhales, and tries again. “It’s sometimes...weird to have him all to myself.” He laughs a little. “I almost don’t know what to do with him all day when it’s just the two of us.” 

A real smile breaks across your face. “I’d love to.” 

He nods, satisfied with himself. “It’ll be nice for Haley to see you as well. I know she feels a little cut off these days.” 

“Understandable.” 

Another bout of silence fills the car. It’s comfortable. Safe. 

“Thank you,” he says, after a long while. 

You look over, letting your eyes wander down his profile for a moment. “Of course.” 

+++

You stay at a little motel off the highway, pulling over after about four hours on the road. It’s only a little ways back to Fairfax, where you’ll drop him off at home before returning the car to Quantico, but Rossi’s right - it’s nice to take some time. 

In two separate double beds across the room from each other, you wish each other good night in the dark. 

+++

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[tweedlydumbtweedlydoo]

Lovers Leave | Bucky Barnes x reader

Requested by anon // Summary: Everyone you’ve ever loved leaves you with a broken heart. Was it something to do with you? Will you ever find true love? 

A/N: anon, thank you for requesting! I changed the request up a little, so it’s not exact to what you requested but I hope you enjoy and I hope I broke your heart lol. xx 

***TRIGGER WARNING: possible trigger warning; anxiety/panic attack, mentions of dying, depression and starvation; **** 

Tag list is at the end. Let me know if you want to be added xx

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********************************************************************************************NOT MY GIF, CREDIT TO OWNERS

Bucky sits across from you at the table and all you want to do right now is reach across the table and shake him. He’s just dropped a bomb of bad news; he wanted to break up but due to working together and having mutual friends, he’d like to remain friends with you and be civil about this break up.

“You want to be friends?” You ask in disbelief. You’d given a whole year to the man sitting across from you. Not to mention the year before that when he was only a crush.

“Yeah..” He sits up a little straighter and clears his throat, “I don’t want this to end on bad terms, y/n.” He reaches for your hand, “I still love you.. I always will. But this isn’t working for me right now.”

You pull your hand from his and stand, “This isn’t working for you right now?” You repeat back, venom laced in your voice, “This isn’t working for you right now?! What the hell Bucky! What kind of sick excuse is that! I’ll always love you, but oh it’s not working for me right now!”

He lets his shoulders slump from the words of your outburst, “y/n please..” He follows your movements and stands, “I don’t know what I want right now.”

“you haven’t known what you wanted for years. You left me wondering the past two years. Wondering if I was good enough. Wondering if today would be the day you’d leave me.” You laugh with a shake of your head, “And look here you are leaving me.”

Bucky reaches for you but you pull away from his grasp, “Y/n please.”

You hold your hand up, signaling him to stop talking, “Just.. just leave me alone, Bucky.” You rush out of the room and make it to yours just before you bursted into heartbreaking sobs.

~

It had only been a week later when you saw Bucky sneaking a girl out of the compound in the middle of the night. You’d been in the kitchen getting a glass of water when you heard their whispering and peeked around the corner to see him guiding her toward the door; her shoes in her hands. You knew living here in the compound being around Bucky wasn’t going to work.

You wondered if he’d been lying when he said he still loved you and always would. How could you mean that and only a week later of breaking things off be in bed with another woman? It only made the heartbreak hurt worse, if that was even possible.

“You’re leaving?”

You glanced over your shoulder at the sound of his voice in the doorway, “Yes.” You let your suitcase slam shut, “I can’t be here while you bring your new whores around.”

He had hoped you didn’t know about the numerous girls he’d brought home. He knew it’d been a bad idea; using random women to help him move on. It was stupid of him and he didn’t know why he was doing it. You were perfect for him, everything he’d ever wanted in a woman, yet there was a piece of him that knew deep down he wasn’t good enough for you.

Being the winter soldier broke him in ways you could never imagine and he wondered if that had something to do with his doubt of being good enough for you.

“Where will you go?” He steps into the room as you tug your suitcase off the bed and onto the floor with a thump.

“Somewhere far away from you.” You finally pull yourself to look at him, “One week. That’s how long it took for you to let another woman into your bed. All that I still love you and always will..” you take a step toward him, eyes narrowing, “ You can shove it up your ass, Bucky Barnes.”

~ 

**possible trigger warning ahead: panic attack/anxiety, talk of starvation, depression ** 

It had been a year since you’d left the compound. You found yourself a new start in a nice town where you’d met a wonderful man who’d you’d be marrying in only a few moments from now. Nat held your bouquet as you made your way into the venue. There at the entrance was Steve and Tony who quickly stopped talking as you entered. You could tell on their faces something was wrong.

“What’s wrong with you two?” you let out a nervous laugh and fixed your dress.

They exchanged a look.

“Someone tell me what the hell is going on.”

“He.. he’s not here.” Steve says softly.

“What do you mean he’s not here?” you glanced at Nat and then back at Steve and Tony, “We’re 45 minutes late.. What do you mean he isn’t here?”

Tony who’d took over as your mentor, put his hands on your arms in a calming matter, “He’s not coming..”

Your bottom lip trembled as you stared up at Tony. You wondered for a moment if this was life’s joke on you. Maybe Tony was messing around. He had to be messing around, right? “Tony..” You whimpered, “Please tell me..”

“He sent his brother and told us he wasn’t coming.. He didn’t want to do this with you anymore.” He wiped a tear off your cheek, “I’m so sorry..”

You let out a sob and the bouquet fell to your feet. He wasn’t coming. After months of planning this wedding, numerous I love you’s and forever promises, he sent his brother to tell someone that he wasn’t coming. He didn’t have the nerve to come to you directly and talk to you. It was the Bucky Barnes heart break all over again as you let the flood gates open. This couldn’t be happening again.

“I-I can’t breath.” You sob, pulling at the front of the dress. It felt like a box closing in on you, like you had no where to go. You’d lost Bucky. You recovered, found someone knew. Fell in love and now you’d lost another. What made it even worse was he’d left you at the alter on your wedding day and had been such a coward that he couldn’t tell you himself.

There were voices all around you and you felt overwhelmed; You tried to decipher who’s voice was who’s.

“Breath.. just breath..” Tony’s voice.

“You’re okay.” Nat’s voice.

“I’ll tell the guests.” Steve’s voice.

You stumbled back, “I.. I can’t..” You tried to focus on your breathing and get it back to a normal pace. You don’t know why, but Bucky crossed your mind and all you wanted was Bucky to be the one holding you, calming you down. How could you want someone who did you so wrong? Your mind was in overdrive and you couldn’t calm the multiple thoughts running through your mind.

You stumbled back again, but this time you fell to the ground as everything around you went black.

~

“She won’t eat.. she won’t drink. She won’t even talk to us.”

“We didn’t know what else to do. We’ve tried everything but she’s.. she’s just. She’s checked out.”

You could hear Nat and Tony speaking amongst each other at the door. You were curled in bed and had been for days. You couldn’t find the energy to eat or even talk. All you could do was sleep.

“She’s going to kill herself.” Tony whispered quietly, “If she doesn’t get something in her system soon.”

You were laying on your side facing the wall when a body appeared in front of you, moving a chair to sit in front of you. It wasn’t Tony or Nat. “Bucky.” You whispered softly, your voice cracking as tears pooled your eyes.

He gave a small smile and caressed your cheek with his knuckle, “Hi, Doll.”

~

Bucky sat at the edge of the bed and held the spoonful toward you, “Y/n, you need to eat a little something.”

“Why do you care?” You force yourself to sit up in bed.

“Because I care about if you die of starvation or not.” He pushes the spoon toward you again and you finally oblige.

“Hey there you go.” He chuckles softly, “See, it’s good right?”  

Tony and Nat didn’t know what else to do and their mind drifted to Bucky. They wondered and hoped seeing him would spark any kind of reaction. A reaction to pull you from the slump you’d been feeling. And after they called him, he’d shown up within the hour.

You watch as Bucky fixes another spoonful and whisper quietly, “Am I really that unlovable?”

Bucky’s eyes snap up to yours, “What?”

Tears prick your eyes, “Am I really that horrible that no one loves me? You left me, he left me at the altar. Everyone leaves me.”

Bucky’s heart broke at your words and he let his shoulders slightly slump, “You are not unlovable.” He sets the spoon back down on the plate, “It’s quite the opposite and has nothing to do with you and who you are.”

Your bottom lip trembled as he stared at you with soft eyes, “Then why? Why does everyone I love leave me?”

He cups your cheeks with his hands making you look directly at him, “Because no one is worthy of receiving everything you have to offer them. They aren’t worthy of all the love you can give them. Boys are stupid. I should know, I’m one of them.” He wipes a stray tear, “You deserve someone who is going to love you like you will love them.”

~

Bucky watched with a sad heart as you stood by the man who was more than worthy enough for your love. He’d never seen you as happy as you were in this moment. It was a smile he would never be able to give you and a smile he’d never seen when he was yours.

“Do you, y/n take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband?”

“yes, I do.” You smile, gently squeezing his hands.

“And do you, Steve Rogers, take y/n to be your lawfully wedded wife?”

Steve’s heart leaps at the words. Wife. “I do.”

Bucky watched the two of you exchange those sappy and tearful vows. At one point, Steve reached over and wiped a tear from your cheek and you’d thought everyone would die at how touching the moment was. Bucky on the other hand had to look away.

“I now pronounce you, Mr. and Mrs. Steve Rogers.” The priest smiles, “Steve, you may now kiss your bride.”

“Finally!” Steve cheers with a grin which earns a laugh from you and the guests.

Bucky stood as everyone else did, clapping for the happy couple. You were happy and that is all that mattered to him. Even if it meant he wasn’t the reason for your happiness anymore.

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[justcourttee]

MariJon, where Valentine's Day is coming up and both of them are trying to figure out how to ask each other out without making it weird and turn to their mutual best friend, Damian. Lots and lots of awkwardness and pining please 😊

This is so cute and so fun to write. I hope you like it!

Damian Wayne: The Love Doctor

Valentine’s Day.

It’s the day that initiates feelings of romance and longing in people across the globe. For couples, it’s a day to spoil each other and gorge on chocolates and fancy dinners. However, for the singles, it’s a day of anxiety and stress hoping that someone returns their feelings or risk sitting dejected for another year alone.

For Jon, it was the latter. This year though, he was determined for it to be different. Thanks to Damian, Jon met Marinette this year. They were always hanging out in one of the League’s hideouts and after several months of begging, Damian finally introduced him. To say it was love at first sight almost felt like an understatement.

So if he felt this way, it should be easy to step forward and hand her the box of chocolates that he had clutched in his hands as he moved to the store’s checkout. Except it wasn’t easy, after all, he had no way of knowing how she felt and Jon wasn’t sure he could handle the idea of Marinette rejecting him.

“-and that’s how I found myself here. How am I supposed to ask her out if I don’t know if she’ll say yes?”

“Yes, that does sound quite perplexing.” Damian flipped the page in his novel, his eyes glued to the words. Jon was positive he wasn’t paying attention, but he had no one else he could go to. Taking a deep breath, Jon darted forward snapping the book from his best friend’s grasp.

The look that Damian gave him would usually be enough to send Jon running leaving the book in his tracks, but he was so worried about asking out Marinette, he honestly had no value for his life at the moment.

“What is it that you think I can do for you, Jon? I myself have never been interested in relationships. They are quite meaningless if there is nothing you can obtain through the partnership.”

Jon scratched the back of his neck as his eyes clung to the ground. Damian was right. He never had a relationship and never seemed to be interested in them so for Jon to ask him advice on how to ask out Marinette, well, it wasn’t his smartest move.

“It’s just-you see-I know that but-”

“Kent, for the love of whatever being may be out there, spit out your sentence.”

“You’re my only friend Damian!”

He hadn’t meant to shout it, the volume even earning a raised eyebrow from Damian’s usually stoic face.

“I’m just-I’m just desperate. I really want this to go over well.”

Damian’s stare sent a shiver down his spine as they stared in silence for a moment and then two. Just when he was sure his friend was about to snap, he did something that surprised him even more.

“Violets.”

“Excuse me?”

Breaking their stare, Damian reached behind him tossing Jon a notebook and pen without a second look.

“You better write this down Kent because I’ll only say it once. Her favorite flowers are violets so that’s where you’re gonna start.”

Jon’s eyes widened as he scrambled to open the first page of the notebook jotting down the words that were spilling out of Damian’s mouth. By the time his friend had sent him away, Jon was almost confident that this plan could work. Maybe, just maybe, he could finally find the courage to ask out Marinette Dupain-Cheng.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

It was barely a day later when Damian Wayne found himself cornered yet again.

He was just trying to finish the last few pages of his book when the blob curled up on the other end of the couch uttered its first noise since it collapsed.

“Damian, can I ask you a question?”

“That’s counterproductive Dupain-Cheng, you already did even though you didn’t hadn’t had my permission.”

Using his book as a shield, he was able to block the incoming pillow assault before it made contact. “I apologize. Was the correct response; what can I do for you my liege?”

This time a shoe flew toward his face, one he narrowly missed.

“Jon. Is he single by chance?”

Damian couldn’t help the smug smile that pulled at his lips.

“What’s it to you whether he’s single or not?”

The red that crept up her neck confirmed his suspicions before her blubbering even began.

“It’s nothing to me! It’s just that Jon never talks about a girlfriend and it’s not because I don’t think he can get a girlfriend, I mean he’s a very attractive guy, but not that I think he’s super attractive, that’s just stating facts that everyone knows and-”

“You’re rambling.”

Closing his book, Damian turned his attention to his red friend, who’s pout brought a smile to his face.

“Damian, I think-I think I want to ask Jon to be my Valentine.”

Damian couldn’t help the snort that escaped earning a groan from Marinette as she buried her face in her hands.

“There were nicer ways to tell me it wasn’t possible you little demon.”

“Hey now, if you start pulling out cruel nicknames like that, I won’t help you.”

Instantly her head popped up, a doubtful expression monopolizing her face.

“Why would you want to help me, huh?”

Reaching down into his bag Damian bit back the sigh as he sacrificed another notebook to his friends.

“Let’s just say, I’m very invested in the outcome of this Valentine’s Day. Now get to writing.”

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Two days had passed; Valentine’s Day arrived and Damian hated to admit how curious he was to if the two love-struck idiots had followed his advice.

He got his answer as he entered their favorite hangout spot only to find it covered in bouquets.

“Damian Wayne, you have some serious explaining to do.” Damian ducked on instinct as a batarang flew over his head impaling itself on the nearest wall. “If you were setting people up with the stunning Marinette Dupain-Cheng, why wasn’t I at the top of the list?”

“Sorry Steph, I didn’t think she was all that into blondes.”

“Wipe that shit-eating smirk off your face!” Damian moved to the side as Stephanie lunged at him, her fist dusting the side of his shirt. “You know good and well she used to be into blondes!”

“Jon beat you to asking.” With a shrug of his shoulders, he gently pushed her backward watching as she dramatically flung herself into the couch. “Now will you please shut up? Marinette will be here at any moment.”

As if on cue, the whirl of the Zeta tube echoed through the hangout snapping Jon’s attention into place as he fumbled with the gift bag in his hand. The soft click of Marinette’s heels confirmed her presence as Damian slapped his hand over Stephanie’s mouth.

“Oh mon Dieu, what is all this?”

Damian could feel the nerves rolling off of Jon slamming into him. It was almost as if he was begging him to swoop in and explain why the place was covered in her favorite flowers. He really was hopeless.

“Uhm, well, uh, you see, I-uh-I heard that you like violets. Which I thought was strange because your favorite color is pink but then I also heard that they are one of the few flowers you can always find inspiration from and I wanted you to have as much inspiration as you could ever need.”

It was quick like he was trying to spill his every thought in one breath, but at least he got it out of his mouth.

“That was very nice of you Jon. I’m sure I’ll never run out of inspiration now.” Marinette’s chuckle was soft and Damian was sure he could hear the blush from where he and Stephanie remained crouched. “I, uh-well-I got something for you.”

Without waiting for a response, Marinette shoved her gift box into his arms causing Jon to half chuck his gift at her as well. Their nervous laughter was too much, Damian felt like he was going to die of second-hand embarrassment for them. The sound of tearing paper and tissue flying earned enough of a curious glance from the boy.

Their gasps were in sync earning a small smirk from the boy. With the power of observation, he was able to read both of his friends like an open book.

“You made me a leather jacket? Marinette this is so cool! It looks just like Conner’s! How did you know?”

“How did I know? How did you know that I had been eyeballing this thread set? You’re amazing Jon.”

The noise died down and for a moment, Damian was worried they had reverted back to their awkward selves. Just as he was about to turn back for another look, two shadows loomed over his hiding spot.

“Holy shit! You guys are so quiet!” Stephanie fled from her spot, grasping at her chest. Damian allowed himself a second to exhale as well.

“Damiboo,” he cut his eyes at Marinette sending her a warning look, “did you perchance give both of us advice for Valentine’s day?”

“Tsk, I did no such thing.”

As if on cue, they both raised their matching notebooks, matching smirks on their faces.

“Aww, Dami does love us!” Marinette flung her arms over his shoulders, Jon followed close behind.

“Get off of me you delinquents. I only helped you so that you two would go out and let me finish reading my damn book!”

The two of them were a giggling mess as they finally released him, comparing their notes as they moved toward the zeta tubes. Damian watched precariously as his two friends slowly intertwined fingers, their laughter fading with them as the tube closed. Ensuring they would not pop right back in, Damian finally released a breath he didn’t even realize he was holding.

Moving to the couch, Damian fished for his book that he left hidden underneath the cushions. Just twenty more pages. The end felt like it would never come.  Just as he slipped the bookmark out of place, the weight on the couch shifted as Stephanie exhaled loudly.

“If you like playing Love Doctor so much, why don’t you ever set me up with anyone?”

“Perhaps it’s because I don’t hate anyone enough to set them up with you.”

Damian didn’t even bother to dodge the pillow that knocked his book from his hands. With a huff, he pulled out his final notebook making a mental note to have Alfred pick up some more.

“Here.”

The way she looked at him made him feel as though he had grown a second head, but she accepted the notebook, opening it to a fresh page.

“Who do you hate-”

“Don’t talk, just write. I really would like to finish my book today.”

Permanent Tag List:

@ash-amg @rebecarojas07 @heaven428 @long-lost-peace @thequeenofpotatoeunicornss @moongoddesskiana @nach0ava @iamablinkmarvelarmy @seraphkitty @clumsy-owl-4178 @pawsitivelymiraculous @mialuvscats @leagrey @smolplantmum @animegirlweeb @glitterflowercat @ladybug-182 @maskedpainter @remy-289

#marijon #maribat

[moon-kn1ght]

stay. 

Pairing: Marcus Pike x Reader

Word Count: 1.8k

Warnings: mentions of high school, mentions of shrek the musical (i’m sry), fluff, pining, 

A/N: this is for @emmikmil! I’ve had so much fun writing this for you and dropping by your ask box often. I hope you enjoy! thank you to @wyn-dixie for the beta! 

listen to a similarly vibed playlist here || masterlist

“I just don’t get how I was able to spend so much time away from you Marcus!!” you laugh at your friend on the couch next to you, “Eight years later, and your movie commentary is still making me laugh my ass off.” The credits roll on the movie that you two had been watching, and even though the movie had not originally been a comedy, Marcus Pike had made you laugh so much that your abs hurt.

“Now that we’re both in D.C., I can tell you that you’re going to get tired of it. I may be older but my time in the FBI has stunted my humor level back to where it was in high school,” Marcus jeered. His smile had the same youthful exuberance that it did when you two were kids, working for the government hadn’t taken that away yet. His eyes still held that warm kindness that had drawn you to be his friend all those years ago.

You and Marcus were best friends back in your shared hometown of Troy, Ohio. You two had bonded at age fourteen over a desire to get the hell out of your small town. While your friendship was built on a mutual distaste of home, it grew to be much more than that. Your high school years were remembered with moments of utter joy with Marcus by your side.

There were summer adventures into the countryside to find streams to swim in to beat the unbearable heat. There were late night ‘study sessions’ that routinely involved borrowing Marcus’s older sister’s car to go get McDonald’s and sit and talk for hours. You went to every single one of his football games (even though he was third string). And you were there the one game in four years that he was on the field and caught a pass that resulted in a game-winning touchdown.

He was there for your break-out role as the Gingerbread Man in the school’s production of Shrek the Musical. He saw it every night. And he was there when your date to junior-year homecoming didn’t show up, and even though he vowed to not go to a school dance that year, he stepped in as your last-minute date (and funny enough, your original date showed up with a black eye on Monday, but you never heard the details…).

Maybe you’ve been apart for longer than you two actually knew each other, but the friendship that you two shared in those years could have been enough to last a lifetime. Luckily, with both of you now working in D.C., it doesn’t have to be. Maybe now you can experience another lifetime of friendship, but this time as adults.

You have been silent for a moment too long when Marcus interrupts, “Hey, you still here?”

“Sorry, yeah,” you respond. “I was just thinking about how you never told me how my ex-homecoming date, Brian, ended up with a black eye after he stood me up?”

The memory makes him laugh, “That information is on a need-to-know basis.  But what I can say is that conversation was quite helpful to draw on when I was learning interrogation skills at Quantico.”

“I KNEW IT!!” you yelp. You grab the throw pillow from your side of the couch and reel back to playfully hit him with it, but he’s too quick—he reaches and yanks it out of your hands, landing his own solid thwack against your stomach. This elicits a squeal from you, “HEY! Not fair, Mr. FBI. You can’t use your super-agent skills against me, that’s got to be a ground rule.”

“I was only acting in self-defense,” he contends, but releases the offending pillow from his grasp. “But if you insist, I will let you take a retaliatory hit at me, to keep things fair.” 

“Hmmm. Now I don’t trust you, Pike. I’m pretty sure you’re the type that would remember where I’m …” You were going to finish the sentence with the word ‘ticklish,’ but you can see the shift in Marcus’s eyes, meaning he knew the end of your sentence before you said it. He lunges towards you, and you’re able to call out an “OH NO!” before he’s on top of you, hands attacking the spots on your body that, of course, he does remember are ticklish.

Everything devolves into laughter. Radiant joy fills your living room, joy that you haven’t experienced in so long.

When you’re able to squirm away and catch your breath, you release a thought that had been on your mind all night, “Marcus, I missed you. I missed you so much.”

You could live forever in the incredibly tender way that he looks at you.

“I’ve missed you too, Ging” he says, reminding you of your high school nickname that formed from your silly but wonderful role in the musical. Like old times, Marcus can still sense the melancholy that hides behind your smile, “hey, we both did it. We made it out. And now we’ve found each other again. Nothing is going to take you away from me now, friends for life, remember?”

You two hug, and time could stop for all you care.

—X—

“I can’t believe I let you drag me to a Quantico bar!” you grumble humorously as you slide out of the Uber you and Marcus shared back to your place. “I know So Many great bars in D.C. proper, and I let you drag me to the suburbs, just to be ogled by a bunch of middle-aged men in ill-fitting suits. I’m never going to forgive you for this one.”

You both are laughing in earnest at your condemnation of the rather dive-y establishment you both got probably a little too toasted at for a Thursday night. You were right, the place was filled with the Special Agent-type that Marcus worked with every day, which is likely why it was tinted in rose-color in his memory. 

“In my defense, I am not a woman, so how could I…” the words drunkenly tumble from Marcus’s lips. “Wait I take that back, let me rephrase…”

You spin around to shoot lasers into Marcus as his drunk ramble verges on being problematic. You wag your finger at him, “Hey, watch it captain.” He stops in his tracks and you, tipsy as well, step towards him, maintaining eye contact and continuing the silly motion of your finger, until you two are a breath apart.

He doesn’t back up, in fact, he leans into the proximity of your bodies. “Yes ma’am, I’m gonna shut up, I promise,” he blathers. You rest your palms against his chest, fingers grabbing at his wrinkled dress shirt. The alcohol coursing through your veins is giving you a confidence that you weren’t quite ever able to manifest in all those years ago. His hands come up to rest against your upper arms, not pushing you away but also not yet closing the remaining distance between your bodies.

“Yeah, you better. If you don’t, I’ll have to…” your thought stops short from completing as what’s left of your sober brain starts to comprehend how much contact you have with Marcus. Heat and energy pass through each junction of your bodies, his fingers on your arms, your hands against his muscled chest. Were your feet touching too? 

“Or you’ll have to what?” Marcus probes, finally releasing the breath he took in the moment your bodies touched.

His voice prompts you to look up from where you had been staring intently into the wrinkles of his once-pristine dress shirt. His eyes are boring holes into where he’d been staring at your head, desperately waiting for you to do something.

Gods, you want to kiss him so badly right now. You want to kiss him hard and desperate to make up for all the years apart. You want to kiss him soft and tender, so he’ll never leave again.

But what if he doesn’t feel the same way? You can’t destroy this absolutely magnetic friendship that you’ve regained after all these years, just for one kiss. But what if he does feel the same way?

You break away from Marcus. You can feel the energy that’s been coursing through your body from his break as you sever each individual point of contact. You can feel each finger leave the surface of his chest and travel through the suddenly chillier D.C. air. His hands slide down your arms. The last of the contact of your bodies breaks as he squeezes his thumb and pointer finger against your pinky.

“I should go,” Marcus says, fracturing the prolonged eye contact by looking down to the pavement. You look down too, your energy shattered by the sudden loss of contact. “Let’s do this again.” The sound of his voice still holds the joy that filled you both tonight, even as his eyes search the ground for something better to say.

—X—

He always smelled like cedarwood. You can still smell it around you as you close your front door and lean back against it. You know you're going to feel this emptiness tomorrow, a different kind of hangover than the tequila sitting in your stomach threatens you with. 

Suddenly, there’s a knock on the door and you jump out of your disappointment. You look out the peephole and it’s Marcus, fidgeting awkwardly. You open the door, “Hey, did you forget some...” you start to ask but he cuts you off.

“Hey sorry for probably scaring you, but I felt something back there. I don’t know if you felt the same thing, but I was wondering if I could kiss you? And if the answer is no, we can forget …” Now it’s your turn to interrupt him. You grab a hold of his shirt in the same place you held him in the parking lot. You pull against him and he leans down and kisses you.

It’s like something in each of you breaks. A floodgate of emotion opens, channeled through this kiss. Your lips search each other for answers you’ve been longing for since the beginning of time.

One of his hands holds your face, while the other finally roams your body. It’s almost as if he’s charting himself a map, so he’ll never lose you again. It traces down your neck, across your shoulders, phantom fingers on your breasts. You’re not sure if his hand is leaving icicles or flames in its wake, but he has every nerve in your body standing on end.

You break from this kiss, but you don’t travel further than to just murmur against his lips. “Marcus are you sure?” you whisper.

He looks down at you and his eyes shine with more joy than you’d ever seen. You cup his cheek in your hand and all his words, all his ability to profess his love dies in his throat because of the simple gesture. He smiles and nods and whispers your name. You could get used to this, the feeling of his lips on yours and your bodies locked together.

“Let’s stay like this forever,” Marcus says, reading your mind.

“Yes. Forever,” you reply and kiss him again.

fin.

#sl fic challenge #marcus pike x reader #marcus pike x you #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal #the mentalist fanfiction #the mentalist #my writing

[fleshbarbie]

Same, but different.

Summary: Billy and Reader don’t particularly like each other, Billy thinks you’re a snob with a perfect life, you think Billy is an asshole with anger issues. That’s until the party starts to hang out more at your house, meaning Billy is there more often than not (because of Max) and thats when you both find out you’re more alike than you think.

-

“Can you guys keep it down?” You called out to the group, barely being heard over the sounds of the kids arguing and the obnoxious banging on the door. 

The only response you received in return was an apologetic smile from Will who seemed to be the only person who had heard you. You shook your head, unable to fight off the amused smile as the rest of the party continued to fight over who was currently winning whatever game they had decided to play for the night. Knowing they weren’t going to shut up until they came to a mutual agreement, you moved on and continued your journey to the front door, where whoever stood on the other side knocked again.

Gripping onto the cold handle, you opened the door with little effort, almost rolling your eyes at who you were now face to face with. Billy Hargrove.

You despised the teen for many reasons, the main one being that nobody stopped talking about him and it only seemed to boost his already over-the-top ego. Wherever you went, you either heard his name or saw his face and it didn’t take long for it to irritate you. It had only gotten worse once the party started spending most of their free time in your living room. The bunch had recently developed a friendship with your younger sister Alice, they shared the same interests and enjoyed her sass and quick wit (which you always argued she got from you).

But that meant that Max Mayfield, Billy’s step-sister was always over at your house - most times you found out she was over without anyone in her household knowing. You always scolded her for it when you found out, telling her that they need to know where she is at all times because, what if there was an emergency? But she didn’t seem fussed, only rolled her eyes and promised that she’d tell them from now on but she never did so you gave up with your lectures. 

“Is the little shit here again?”

Billy didn’t bother with a hello, getting straight to the point but you didn’t care. You wanted to get him away from your house as quickly as possible.

“If you mean Max then yes. But I’m only willing to go and get her for you, if you ask me nicely.” You crossed your arms over your chest, raising a brow as you awaited his next response. 

He shot you a dirty look, taking a cigarette out of the box he had been holding since you opened the door.

“I don’t have time to play your games (Y/L/N). Just go get her, tell her she should’ve been home an hour ago.” He grumbled, lighting the cigarette that now hung from his lips.

You didn’t move, not an inch. You stood in the same place and stared back at Billy. It only took him a second to realise you weren’t doing what he had told you to do and your stubbornness annoyed him more than he already was when he first arrived.

“Jesus Christ, can you go get her please?”

You smiled at your achievement, it wasn’t something many people could do: get Billy Hargrove to use his manners. You nodded your head, holding up two fingers to signal you’d only be two seconds. He didn’t say anything back, only puffed at the poison stick blowing the fumes into your house.

Half jogging into the living room, your eyes focused on the kids who had stopped arguing over who was winning - only now they were arguing over who was in last place. Sometimes it amazed you how they managed to remain friends.

“Um... Max? Billy’s here. Said something about you being an hour late.” You interrupted their heated debate, they all fell silent at the mention of Billy.

Max threw her cards down on the table, sighing at the thought of leaving her friends and having to put up with Billy for the next half an hour as he drove her home. She said bye to the others, to which they all responded to with their own ‘Goodbyes’ and ‘See you laters’. You smiled at the redhead when she approached you, which she gladly returned. You hadn’t known her for long, maybe two months at the most? But she had quickly become like another little sister to you. She always came to you when things were bothering her. You let her rant and gave her any advice you could manage and she adored you for it.

You led her to the front door which was still open, and you leaned against the doorframe whilst you patiently waited for her to put on her shoes which she had kicked off as soon as she got to your house over three hours ago now. 

“Are you coming by again tomorrow?” You asked her.

“No.”

“Yes.”

Both Billy and Max answered at the same time, you looked between the two wanting to laugh at the fact they both wore the same annoyed expression on their faces.

“You think I’m gonna let you out again after the shit you pulled tonight? Do you think I enjoy coming all the way out here for you Maxine? At this time? You’re a pain in my ass.” 

Billy finished his small rant by throwing down his cigarette, squishing it into the concrete with the heel of his boot. Max didn’t respond, only pushed past the two of you with an empty look which tugged at your heartstrings. 

“Hey, don’t be a dick to her Hargrove. She’s just a kid, they always lose track of time when they’re with their friends. I’m guessing you don’t know what that’s like considering you’ve never had any?” You fired, sending him the meanest glare you could manage.

He chuckled at the insult at first, taking a quick glance into your house. “You’re the one with a house full of kids (Y/N). Don’t have any friend’s your own age?” 

With that, he winked at you and strutted away over to his infamous blue Camaro, probably thinking he was amazing for the comeback he had thrown at you. You didn’t bother to waste your energy saying anything back, you knew he’d only enjoy the fact he’d gotten under your skin. Instead you slammed the front door shut, mumbling about how much you hated the mullet haired bastard under your breath. 

-

It was now just past 10:00pm and you had waved goodbye to the last member of the party, Mike’s Dad had disappeared down the street after spluttering a wide range of apologies at you for being late. Something about how he thought Karen was coming to collect him, but when he’d gotten home after a late night shift he realised she hadn’t bothered. Maybe if she knew Billy came over for Max every now and again she’d be more than eager to come get her son. 

With an exhausted sigh, you returned to your living room for what felt like the 50th time tonight.

“Come on Alice, you need to get ready for bed now.” You told your sister, her back was towards you as she continued to clean up after her friends.

You joined her on the floor, picking up the cards that Dustin had launched across the room in anger after Lucas had accused him of cheating for the third time. 

“Is Mom gonna be home tonight?” 

Her voice was quiet, you almost thought you had imagined it until you glanced over to her, only to see her already looking back at you. 

You could only shrug, looking back down at your hands, trying to distract yourself by putting the cards into a neat pile.

“I don’t know. I don’t think so, I’m sure she would’ve stumbled in by now.”

You kept your tone light and easy, not wanting to upset Alice.

She sighed but nodded. “You’re probably right.”

Putting the cards back into the box, you opened your arms gesturing Alice to come in for a hug. She didn’t waste any time and launched herself into your comforting embrace. You rubbed her back, pressing a gentle kiss to her head at one point.

“Don’t worry about it too much bug, she’ll probably make an appearance tomorrow like she always does. You know what she’s like.” You paused letting her soak up your words before you spoke again, “Go get into bed, I’ll finish up cleaning. Can’t have you being grumpy at school tomorrow, you’re already on thin ice.”

“That wasn’t even my fault! Miss Richardson is just overdramatic!” She exclaimed, pulling back from your embrace.

You laughed at her reaction, now standing up and helping her do the same. “Oh I’m sure she is, but still.. you need to make sure you don’t get into any more trouble. Can’t have people calling around here.”

You knew at her young age she wouldn’t understand how serious it would be if a teacher came over to speak to your Mom, only to find out she’s not at home and that, honestly, she’s hardly ever here. But she wasn’t stupid either. She knew it wasn’t a good thing that you were practically raising her yourself at this point, and that if people found out changes would be made. Changes that neither of you would enjoy.

So with a sigh, she nodded. “I’ll try.”

—

The next day you made your way to your locker, pushing past a few people who seemed to be walking as slow as they could just to annoy you. You eventually arrived at the same dull coloured locker you looked at almost every single day, and began exchanging the books you no longer needed for the ones you did need. Concentrating on the books, a loud thud beside you made you jump, your hand pressing against your chest in shock.

Looking to your side, you frowned at the sight of Billy leaning against the locker next to yours with a smug grin.

“Should be paying more attention to your surroundings, sweetheart. I could’ve been here to attack you.” He tutted, shaking his head.

“What do you want Hargrove?” You asked, now closing your own locker to focus all your attention on him.

He slipped his hand into his denim jacket, pulling out a slip of paper and holding it out to you. You stared down at it in confusion, focusing on the messy handwriting that was scrawled across it.

“Why are you giving me your number?”

He stood up straighter looking a tad bit annoyed at the fact you hadn’t taken it from him yet, so instead he just shoved it in your pocket, keeping his hand inside whilst he explained so you couldn’t take it out.

“It’s for when Max decides she wants to sneak over again. I need you to call me when she does, so I’m not looking like an idiot searching all over Hawkins for the little brat.” He told you, which was half true.

He hated driving around from house to house trying to figure out which friend she had decided to sneak off with, but he also hated the verbal and sometimes physical abuse he received from his Dad whenever Neil figured out Max wasn’t in her room, or anywhere else in the house - though of course he’d never tell you that part.

“Fine.” You agreed, “I’ll let you know, but don’t come storming over in one of your moods when you have to come get her.”

“Fine.”

After that was said, both of you fell silent not really knowing what else to say. He removed his hand from your pocket, but remained pressed up against the locker beside you. You zipped up your bag, placing the strap back over your shoulder and made a move to get to class, but a grip on your arm prevented you. You planned on tugging yourself away, and giving Billy a harsh glare with a few not so friendly words. But then you realised the grip was gentle and all of a sudden everything you had planned vanished from your mind and instead your were looking back at the taller boy waiting to see what he wanted.

“Are you okay? You look exhausted.”

Now this stunned you. His voice, which always held a hint of annoyance or amusement had been stripped of both and instead he sounded both genuine and concerned. He had never been this way towards you, the pair of you were always throwing insults to one and other, it was weird but the fact that you didn’t mind it made the situation even more bizarre. Recovering from the initial shock, you nodded in response.

“I’m okay. I just had to stay up a little later last night, the kids left me a mess to clean up but I don’t mind.” You told him, which was half true.

The party had left your living room and even a little bit of your kitchen a mess: things had been thrown, drinks had been spilt and half eaten food had been left behind. It took you just over an hour to get it all spotless and back to normal. But you also had a younger sister to look after, and exams to study for, and a part time job that you got in order to help with looking after your sister. All of it left you with not that many hours to sleep and so you attended school with five hours of sleep if you were lucky - though of course you’d never tell him that part.

He didn’t seem to buy it though, staring at you for a few seconds longer before finally nodding, accepting the fact you wouldn’t be telling him anything else. Not that he blamed you. You weren’t exactly best friends. He released the hold he hand on your arm and you didn’t spare him another glance, instead you just sped down the still semi-busy corridor not wanting to be late to class.

Billy watched you, he was intrigued. And he made a promise to himself to find out what you were hiding.

-

hi! this is my first time writing on tumblr, i usually post my stuff on wattpad but recently i’ve been obsessed with this app and i’ve been reading almost everything steve + billy related. this mini series is something i’ve been wanting to write for awhile now and i’m finally getting it done! i hope you enjoy it, sorry if there’s any mistakes i missed!

#billy hargrove x reader #billy hargrove imagine #billy hargrove fic #billy hargrove fanfic #billy hargrove one shot #stranger things fic #stranger things x reader #billy hargrove angst #billy hargrove fluff #dacre montgomery imagine #dacre montgomery x reader

[dekuspet]

Oblivion - Part 1

Deku/Izuku Midoriya x Reader x Kacchan/Bakugou Katsuki

Part II here!

Genre: Angst, Fluff

"He told me he'll never leave. He lied."

-

"I love you. You're the most beautiful thing I ever laid my eyes on. I'll never leave you.", he said to you as he speaks between your kisses.

"We will make a family. We will make little Bakugous. How many kids do you think will we have?", he smiled.

You laughed sarcastically as tears started falling down your eyes.

"Why are you laugh-crying?", the man who's eating your pussy was shocked. Who is he? You don't know either. You just fuck around. Fuck with strangers. Then leave. No strings attached.

Afterall, they'll all just leave you. They will, you know that.

You continue laughing sarcastically. The man who's about to fuck you isn't horny anymore.

"Damn, kid. Go see a doctor. You're creeping me out.", he left right away.

Ah, fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. You did it again. Is it because of the alcohol and your low tolerance?

Why do you keep remembering that shitty asshole? Earlier, you're horny. And now you're left, horny and sad.

You laughed again. Maybe you're really crazy. It's been five years. Five. Goddamn. Years.

You sighed. You force yourself to get up and move your ass to go home. Or maybe find another fucker to fuck? Afterall, you're still horny.

You have no problem getting fuck again and again. As long as there's condom.

No, it's not because you don't want to be pregnant.

Hell, you would want to be pregnant. Really.

"Little Bakugous"

Ah, again. You're real shit. You keep pitying yourself.

"You're infertile. You can't have babies. I am sorry Mrs. Bakugou."

You covered your ears as tears fell from your eyes.

Make it stop. Please. Make it stop.

"Aah babe, faster.", you stopped crying for a little as you heard your door bang. The two persons look like their about to fuck. You really can't see them clearly. You're to lazy to wear your eyeglasses.

Ow, maybe wrong room? Well, you don't give a fuck. You're leaving anyways.

You're about to leave, muttering sorry but not bothering to look at them. But the guy held your arm.

"Y-y/n wait!", you turned around. Now closer. You saw who is it with your puffy eyes.

Those curly green hair partnered with green caring eyes.

"I-Izuku! H-hi!", you smiled forcefully.

"Hey babe. Who is she? Aren't we going to fuck? Or will this be threesome?", the other gurl said.

"I-I am sorry. I am not in the mood to have sex. I-I can find you another partner.", the girl looked at her with disbelief and she slapped him as she called him asshole. She left right away.

"I didn't know you can be an asshole sometimes, Izuku.", you laughed a little. Izuku scratched his head.

"I-I just want to comfort you. You looked like you just cried.", he said. You smiled. He's still the same caring, innocent boy. You both sat at the corner of the bed in the private room at the bar.

They know what happened five years ago. Well, not really everything. They don't know you're infertile. They just know the decision for your relationship is mutual.

You laughed sarcastically again.

"Hey, are you okay?", You looked at Izuku as he held your shoulder. Am I okay? It's been long since someone asked you that. You got teary eyes. It's like all your emotions are triggered to be released.

"I am not, Izuku.", you cried loudly. He is hesistant at first but he hugged you. You told him the whole story.

"I am sorry Katsu, I can't give you a child", Katsuki is silent. He is confused.

"Give me space.", he said as he left. He didn't return for days. You let him.

Your eyes sparkled as you heard the doorbell. It's probably Katsu.

You opened it and you saw Katsuki holding a paper.

Divorce papers.

"I am sorry. I want to have kids.", he didn't look at you.

Your heart clenched but you didn't cry. You signed it rightaway. When he left, you cried until you had enough.

"I am here. Ssh. I am here.", those comforting words. Damn. You don't know you need those. You acted tough when you and Katsuki separated. So no one will worry about you.

But not until now did you realize that you need someone to lean on.

It's been hours of you crying. And Izuku patting your back. Izuku's clothes are wet with your tears. Then you stopped. You looked at him and you raised your hands so he'll face you. He looked at you with troubled eyes, like he don't know what to say. You kissed him fast.

He's shocked. So he pushed you lightly.

"What are you doing, Y/n?", he asked as he looked at you with different emotions. He is sad, confused. You rubbed him down there as he moaned.

"I know you're horny. You set it aside to comfort me. I am horny too. Let's just follow our bodies. This will just be for one night. We will forget it afterwards. We will remain friends, okay?"

"B-but I don't have condom."

"Ssh, as long as you're not sick.",you didn't let him respond as you pushed him on the bed.

-

"Oh fuck.", you held your head. It hurts so much.

"Good morning, Y/n.", you heard Izuku said as you muttered 'morning'.

Eh?

Eh? Izuku?

"I-Izuku!", you jumped out of bed as you remembered what happened last night. The blanket on your body fell and your body is exposed to Izuku. Izuku's jaw fell and he hurriedly turned around.

"I am sorry, Y/n!", you laughed at him. He is still innocent. He acted like nothing happened to both of you last night.

And you must admit, he isn't innocent in bed.

You quickly picked up your clothes and you moaned as your head hurts again.

"I bought medicines for your hangover. Let's leave afterwards and let's eat breakfast.", he turned at you and he smiled.

Izuku has a simple car. Of course he'll have a simple car. Even though you know Izuku makes lot of money because he is the number 1 hero, you expected this. Afterall, he doesn't like being flashy.

And maybe he bought lots of All Might Action Figures, even he is the current number 1 hero.

You both reached a restaurant. He removed his seatbelt and muttered a wait to you. He'll probably open the door for you. As he run to open your side of the door, a guy wrapped his hands around Deku's shoulder. You look at the smiling blonde with that red eyes. Bakugou Katsuki.

You know Katsuki and Izuku are in good terms now. Katsuki isn't bullying Izuku, and he didn't hold grudge for Izuku being the Number 1 Hero.

"Oi! Who are you with? You got a date?", Katsuki said.

Izuku is hesitating if he should open the door so Katsuki opened it. His grin fell as he saw you.

"Y/n."

You gulped. You feel like your legs are becoming jelly. You can't move. Izuku held his hand for you so he can pull you out.

"Kacchan, we are just go-", you stopped Izuku.

"Why are you explaining Izu, you're so funny.", you playfully hit him and you wrapped your hands around his arm.

"I'm so sorry, Bakugou, but I gotta snatch your friend. We're really hungry.", you smiled at him as you didn't let him say another word. You and Izuku entered the restaurant. You are glad Izuku let you drag him.

Katsuki is staring at you as you walked. You called him Bakugou. And you are with Deku. He is confused.

Why?

He has lot of questions. He felt like he is betrayed, even though you two already separated.

Deku doesn't know the bro rule.

Katsuki sighed as he left confused and angry.

You and Izuku ate and bid farewell after.

Afterall, you agreed that it's just one night stand.

-

Izuku become closer to you. And now you're somehow angry. He pitied you. That's why he's caring. You don't want to be pitied.

"Hey Y/n.", Izuku showed again at your agency with a bento box. You admit, you love his homemade food but you're both getting rumored dating as he always show at your work.

You pulled him and you brought him where no one can see. He is looking at you, confused.

"Look Izuku. Stop this.", you looked at him seriously. He looked hurt. He stare at the floor.

"Okay. Just, take this. I'll not bother you anymore. Call me if you need someone. Bye.", he left looking sad. Then you became guilty. You can't hurt this Cinnamon roll. So you run after him.

"Okay, Izuku. I am sorry. I just, don't want to burden you. You have problems too. And I don't want to trouble you with the rumors.", you told him sincerely. He held your shoulder.

"You will never be a bother to me. I am your friend, Y/n.", you smiled at him. You muttered a thank you. He smiled before he turns to leave the agency you're in.

"Let's meet at friday! Let's drink! Usual place!", you shout and he turned back to nod.

You both part ways. Your friendship with Izuku became stronger.

-

People gasp as Ground Zero attacked Deku. Kirishima and Kaminari stopped Bakugou. They all work at the same agency.

"Man, what is wrong with you.", Kirishima glared at Bakugou.

"That fucking traitor don't know bro rule. Deku, you don't date your friends ex!", Bakugou is loud. Fortunately, they're still at the agency and all heroes here will not betray them, probably.

"I am not doing anything! We are just friends!", Deku whispered.

"Fuck that friendship. What kind of friends meet early at the morning and eat breakfast? Remember Deku, bros before hoes. We are in good terms, man.", Bakugou is still angry.

"Y/n isn't a hoe. Stop being an asshole. She needs a friend. What you did isn't nice, Kacchan. She needs a friend.", Everyone's surprised as the Number 1 Hero glared at Bakugou as he left right away. Bakugou avoid his eyes as his guilt eats him.

-

You wake up feeling nauseous. It's Sunday. You know you didn't drink alcohol last night. You ran to the bathroom and vomit. You breathe heavily. Realization hit you after you vomited.

No this can't be. How?

-

"Congrats, you're 2 months pregnant.", you looked at the doctor, horrified. The doctor sense it.

"Is it an unwanted child?", she asked.

"No. I want to have a baby. But I am diagnosed as infertile.", you said.

"Did you get second opinion? If not, maybe the doctor's wrong. We have checked it Miss Y/n, you're really pregnant.",she sais as she smiled. She left you alone.

Ow what the fuck. You didn't have sex with anyone in the last 3 months.

Just Izuku.

You're confused. You are glad that you are fertile. But, what would Izuku's reaction will be?

You know he'll accept it. He's kind. But what if it'll hinder his work and dreams?

You shrugged the thought off. You walked to your car to visit Izuku.

-

"Deku!", Katsuki is knocking at Izuku's apartment.

"Kacchan!", Deku opened the door and let Katsuki enter.

"I'm sorry. I doubted you. And I understand that I became an asshole with Y/n. I thought I needed kids. But after we broke up, I can't find a wife. They're not y/n. I don't want kids. I want Y/n. But she is distant to me after we broke up. I didn't have time to apologize.", Izuku rolled his eyes internally.

"Kacchan, you should apologize to her.", I'm glad you're a dick so I can have chance with her.

"I-I don't know how." Figure it yourself, dick.

Both Katsuki and Izuku turn around the door as the doorbell rang.

Who could it be?

-

You rang the doorbell. You planned to say it at his face right away. You held your breathe as he opened his door and you pushed him in right away.

"Izuku, I'm pregnant.", Izuku looked shock. You saw blonde hair behind Izuku. Oh fuck.

"B-Bakugou."

-

Bakugou when he found out that you are pregnant with Deku's child even though the reason that you two broke up is you being infertile, add up with the fact that Deku said you two are just "friends":

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[mk-wizard]

Graham Burns: Analysis of the Nerd of Action

Hello, friends. Today’s character analysis is at the request of a dear reader @petrichornial​ who wanted an analysis of Graham Burns who is the genius of the Burns rescue operative family from Rescue Bots as well as Boulder’s partner and good friend.

As far as character biography goes, it is pretty simple. Graham Burns is one of the Burns kids and is younger than Kade and older than Cody, but it is never confirmed if he is older or younger than Dani though is is very likely that he is older than her because he is a university graduate though it could be that he skipped some grades from being an exceptional genius. When he was Cody’s age, he was also a Lad Pioneer and was good at it, but after getting lost in the woods one time, he left out of embarrassment. While he is a licensed and expert engineer, it is clear that he is still studying either for a Masters degree or even possibly a doctorate.  When he is first introduced to Boulder, it is under the impression that he is just a machine though after learning that he was a person, he still had some trouble respecting him as such. Graham was initially more concerned with analyzing and learning about how Boulder worked as an alien life form which made the bot very uncomfortable if not insulted. Graham quickly realized that this was not right and respected Boulder as a person for the rest of the series. They even become best friends. Amy would later develop a crush on a newcomer and fellow loveable nerd Amy though he had trouble talking to her and even made several goofs along the way before finding the confidence to just say hello to her. It isn’t known how much their relationship progressed though or if anything did become of their mutual attraction since their first meetup. At the end of the Rescue Bots series, the rescue team was separated though Graham and Boulder remained partners as they were assigned to the west coast. While Graham never made an appearance on Rescue Bots Academy, it can be concluded that he is still fulfilling that duty alongside Boulder when the bot isn’t teaching new recruits and like Cody Burns, he remains in touch with the rest of the gang.

As a character especially of his type, I have to admit that Graham really got underrated as he breaks several molds for it. Most obviously, he may be the brains, but is not without enough brawn to hold out on his own. In both the action figure line and the cartoon, Graham has work boots, a construction helmet and for the toy only, a vest. We even see that Graham does get his hands dirty, is in shape, likes to camp and he even plays sports meaning that unlike most geek characters, Graham is not physically the weakest of the team. He also doesn’t have any of those stereotypical setbacks like a plethora of dietary limits, allergies to everything (just cats) and he isn’t asthmatic. Moreover, while he does struggle with his communication skills and talking to girls, he is not so socially inept that he is consistently insensitive or says inappropriate things that make people feel uncomfortable. Graham is a gentleman, he has enough sense to think before he talks, he is not oblivious to feelings and he does like people. Yes, he’s an introvert, but he is willing to open up when the chance presents itself.

Another thing about him that is noteworthy is that his genius never becomes a drag or the only reason for his character. His knowledge of things doesn’t go beyond his industry and he never pretends to know more than he does. And there have been times where Graham had to ask for help. Back in the day, geek characters were always expected to know everything and solve problems by reading a book then becoming experts overnight. In Rescue Bots, Graham shows us that even geniuses have limits and need time to get the hang of skills that are new to them. Furthermore, Graham doesn’t have the annoying speech stereotype of talking with the tone of a book or in this snobbish way. He talks and walks like a regular person. Most notably, Graham is not even the biggest genius in Griffin Rock. That title is reserved for the scientists who reside there or have made contact with it. Nor does he ever get competitive with them or jealous of their knowledge.

The most important aspect of Graham is that he acts his age and human. Even with all his genius, Graham has the same interests as most people his age and does the things we expect him to do when in certain situations. Like eating at his desk while doing homework and he enjoys things like pizza. He is also not above making bad decisions like eating the Magic Meat/Fo-Foo just because it was there even though it smelled awful and seemed off. Or going to Kade for advice on how to approach a girl or coming up with a cologne to solve his problems with his confidence. The most notable bad decision he made though was years ago when he left the Lad Pioneers before being given his last badge out of shame after getting lost in the woods. He is a good balance of capable, but human which is good.

In short, Graham is definitely a sign of the times in how the media does still follow tropes, but now, it does so respectfully and it no longer stereotypes its characters. Graham is Graham first and a geek second. And being the geek doesn’t make him weak and he shouldn’t be if he does rescue missions.

So what do you all think of Graham Burns? Anything you want to add to this analysis?

If you have a Transformers theory or character analysis you want explored, please let me know in my ask box. And please, support me through Patreon or Ko-fi if you want me to make Transformers merch and videos. Or if you want a commission of your favourite bot, let me know in my shop. All links are on my profile page.

Thanks for reading and please, stay safe.

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