#where is my world cup pin up calendar?

[motleyistheonlywear]

Um what is this? 🥵

#luka modric #wc 2022 #croatia nt #where is my world cup pin up calendar?

[lifeofkaze]

A Dame Called Trouble

Katriona Cassiopeia x Murphy McNully, Dark Noir AU

A/N: Happy birthday, Kate! Here's @kc-and-co, my first friend here, my fellow sports enthusiast, my most aggressive cheerleader, and my idol in so many things, not only when it comes to writing. I can't drink a cup of coffee anymore or wear black cashmere without having to think of you. I had this short stuck in my head for over a year (I wanted to do it last year for your birthday, actually), but it took me until this year to finally put it to paper. I hope you enjoy (and see why I was asking the most impossible questions, haha).

Katriona Cassopeia obviously belongs to the birthday girl @kc-and-co

Warning: Mentions of smoking and alcohol addiction, mentions of gambling, serious world-weariness

Trouble has a way of finding me.

It always has, from picking fights with the kids in the village I grew up in, to the German shrapnel that bit into my spine and reduced my legs to useless scraps of meat and bone. It took me away from the battlefield and into my dingy little office in a rundown building on the edge of the River Thames. The medals once shining on the breast of Private Murphy McNully are now hidden behind a layer of thick and dirty glass, a showcase they handed Murphy McNully - the veteran - with a lukewarm handshake, empty words and a fuck-off as they kicked me out of the army and into the real world.

One war cripple gone, a million more left.

It is a rainy day when she enters my office. I haven’t expected her, and why would I? My calendar is full; nothing to keep a man busy like staring at a wall and sharing stories with his friends Jim Beam and Johnny Walker.

I can hear her steps before I see her, a short staccato of heels on the worn-out floor. A cloud of perfume enters before her. It smells like roses and amber, like the perfumes they sell to the men who can afford to treat their wives to anything better than the stink of diluted lavender dish soap. 

The first thing I notice when she steps into my office is her hair. It’s bright red, fighting for my attention with the lipstick she has put on. It isn’t pulled back in the prim and proper fashion women wear these days, secured by pins and hidden under quaint little hats in the hope of making someone think their lives are as neat as their appearances. 

No, the red hair of the woman in my office falls down her shoulders and back. It is discreetly pinned in all the right places to show off her white neck, around which two strings of pearls are hanging. She takes off her black coat to reveal an equally black dress beneath, sitting scandalously tight around her body. She must be very foolish or very confident to be wearing a dress like this. Or maybe both.

She sits in the once-beige leather chair facing my desk and looks at me expectantly. Her eyes are big, over-proportionally so, and of a disconcertingly deep blue. I clear my throat.

“What can I do for you, Miss…?”

“Mrs,” she says, without missing a beat. I notice a faint accent in her voice that I can’t place. “I’m astounded you don’t know me. You have been looking for me, after all.”

I curse my sluggish brain as I wreck my mind for the details of the jobs I have accepted in the past months. There are only three, but I can’t recall a red-headed dame with an air of glamour being part of any of them. She must sense my confusion because her blood-red lips purse as she smirks. 

“If it helps, where I come from, people call me Trouble.” 

I sit up straight, the fog in my mind from this morning’s whiskey suddenly cleared.  

“Mrs Cassiopeia?”

“The very same.” She gives me a smile and leans back in her chair with an air of effortless nonchalance. “It has come to my notice that you have been making inquiries about me.”

“I have, indeed.” 

I reach into my drawers without taking my eyes off her and pull out a crumpled packet of cigarettes. I offer her one, and she shakes her head.

“I don’t smoke, Mr McNully. How about you?”

“I have other vices.”

The look in her eyes changes as she sizes me up. “Let me guess. Your accent is Irish - faintly but still distinguishable. Your voice is hoarse, and your eyes are too red for it to solely come from lack of sleep. Or fresh air,” she adds, wrinkling her nose. “I would put my money on whiskey.”

“Then you’d lose,” I say, trying not to think about the half-empty bottle in the bottom-most drawer of my desk.

Katriona Cassiopeia chuckles. She tilts her head to the side, looking me up and down. “I never lose, Mr McNully. Contrary to you. How’s the gambling been treating you?”

My face hardens. “You must be misinformed, Mrs Cassiopeia. I don’t gamble.”

“Where I come from, word is that you do.”

“And where would that be?”

“Why, the race courses,” she says innocently. “Isn’t that why I am here?” 

“Right,” I say, adjusting my tie and touching the golden Royal Airforce pin hidden on my desk while I put my thoughts in order. “I have been investigating a number of suspicious incidents on the race courses surrounding London. Somehow, all clues lead me back to you.”

If Katriona Cassiopeia is surprised by this news, she doesn’t let it show. “How would that be?”

“You run a business, don’t you?” I abruptly change the topic. “A small company called ‘Rising Star Inc’. Is that correct?”

“It is.”

“What is it that you’re doing?”

“My dear sisters and I sacrifice our time to grace the side of any man who requires company and is willing to share his time with us.”

“You mean, who is willing to pay you.”

The corners of her red lips twitch. “To some, that is the same.”

I pull my notebook from my pocket and flick through the pages. It is more for show than anything else. I now recall all of the information to a fault. 

“Your ‘sisters’, as you like to call them. They have curious names. Trouble, Cherry, Phoenix, Fire… That doesn’t sound like a match-making service to me.” 

The smile she is giving me is sweet. Her teeth are whiter than my shirt. “Entertaining a man is an art, Mr McNully. Why shouldn’t we have artists’ names?”

“Does your husband know about this?” I change topics yet again. And like before, she remains as calm as I am after only my third drink of the day.

“My husband helped me set things up.”

“Where is he now?”

“Dead, alas. He met his demise when one of his racing horses hit him in the head.”

I pretend to check my notes again. “According to authorities, the head wound looked like he was hit with a bat.”

Her blue eyes narrow, if only slightly. “Well, he wasn’t.”

“I am sorry for your loss, Mrs Cassiopeia. A most unfortunate event.”

“Most unfortunate indeed,” she replies. Her words sound innocent, but there is steel behind them. 

We stare at each other for a long moment. It is pretence, and we both know it, a delicious dance between a hunter and its prey. Looking at her unsettling blue eyes, I’m not sure who of us is who.

She breaks me out of my thoughts when she uncrosses her legs and leans forward. “Mr McNully, my time is precious. I came here today because I was told that you are looking for me. If you want a witness report, you will need to tell me what it is that I allegedly have seen.”

“Oh, you must be mistaken.”

One of her eyebrows rises. “How so?”

“You are not my witness, Ma’am. You are my suspect.”

She makes a contemplative noise, almost like the purring of a cat. “Interesting. Do you really think me capable of being a petty member in a criminal organisation?”

“On the contrary, Mrs Cassiopeia. I think you capable of being the head of a criminal organisation.”

She holds my eyes for a moment longer. She leans forward, her elbows resting on the shabby wood of my desk. “You are not one to underestimate an opponent, Mr McNully. That is good. Otherwise, I’d pity you. But be that as it may, I don’t think you have any evidence against me.”

“There has been an accumulation of manipulated results whenever you or one of your employees have attended a race.”

“Chance.”

“You have risen to success ridiculously fast.”

“Sense of business. Or, seeing as I am nothing but a woman,” she adds with a fake innocence that can’t hide her bitterness, “probably luck.”

“Several of your clients have met an untimely demise shortly after being seen with one of your girls,” I try one last time, aware of how desperate I’m sounding.

“Bad luck. What would I gain if I went and killed my clients? That sounds like a terrible business plan.” She rises to her feet, picking up her heavy coat from the back of the chair. “It was nice talking to you, Mr McNully. We should do that again sometime soon.”

“You can’t go,” I blurt out, angry at myself when I see the amused look on her face. She raises her hands, holding her wrists out to me.

“Why? Am I arrested?” 

The smirk on her red lips is infuriating, but we both know that there is nothing I can do. I am certain that she is involved in whatever fishy business is going on in the world of glitz and glamour, but - as she has correctly pointed out - I have no evidence against her, only the uncompromising feeling in my gut that I can’t let her strut out my door. Gritting my teeth, I shake my head and force a smile onto my face. 

“You are free to go, Mrs Cassiopeia.”

“Pity.” She leans over my desk, her red hair brushing over its top as she breathes into my ear. “Until next time, Mr McNully.”

I have to swallow as I watch her walk to the door. “What makes you think there’ll be a next time?”

She doesn’t answer but leaves me staring after her, too dumbfounded to say anything else. My head is swimming with questions, but all I can think of is the blue of her eyes, the red of her lips, and the scent of rose and amber pervading the air. In the doorway she stops and looks over her shoulder, directly at me. 

“Something tells me that the chances are good, Mr McNully. Trouble has a way of finding you.” 

#hphm #hogwarts mystery #quidditch #murphy mcnully #writblr #katriona cassiopeia #dark noir au #happy birthday kate #private investigator

[ianmhill]

5.28

We nearly forgot we were going to the theatre last Friday evening - only remembered when I happened to glance at my calendar. The play was called POTUS at the Arena Stage, a comedy about a group of women supporting a US President. It was a) absolutely hilarious; b) well acted; c)well staged (in the round); and d) absolutely filthy in the language department - the first word uttered was a four-letter word beginning with "c"! All-in-all well worth going and to a theatre we haven't been to before.

Unintentionally, the place we went to for food beforehand was a Hank's, which was a branch of the restaurant we went to before the last play we saw. And although it was also a bit damp on Friday, not enough for us to need an umbrella.

Some of the weekend was again spent watching rugby, with the disappointment for some that England were pipped by a point by South Africa (15-16) so didn't make the World Cup Final tomorrow. But somehow Gloucester managed to win up in Newcastle, in truly horrendous, torrential conditions and Harlequins beat Exeter, so there was something for everyone in the family to be happy about.

We did manage to go for a bicycle ride on Sunday - twas a beautiful crisp sunny day, but my wife was struggling with a knee problem so we didn't go as far or as fast as we might have intended.

The Boy failed to get his driving licence changed to Virginia on Monday - although he had gone there equipped with multiple proofs of address, the one thing they really wanted was a signed copy of his lease and he had only taken the front sheet. Hey ho - at least he discovered that the dealer had ordered his Virginia licence plates, so that was one less thing to worry about, apart from where they will be delivered and how he will get them fitted. But he came over on Sunday and his car looks great, just perfect for what he needs. Though he did come back again on Monday evening because "something fell off when I opened the back door". Turned out to be the trim on the rear wheel arch was not fully attached under the door. It will be a simple fix, but I didn't want to do it in case I broke the plastic pin that should be holding it on.

[permanentcrossfics]

Twelve Hours In Miami // h.s.

You looked at the alarm clock next to your bed. “It’s 6:15.”

He had the grace to look at least a little embarrassed. “Yeah, but… it’s my last day here. And I haven’t seen you once.”

“You were busy,” you said automatically, a familiar excuse that had become rote at some point. “We were--”

“Yeah.” He rubbed his hands together and cleared his throat. Busy, busy, always busy. “But my flight’s not until this afternoon, so I thought… my morning’s free, and if you want to….”

“What time is your flight?”

Eleven, twelve, one…?

“Five.”

“Five!?”

“Thirty,” he confirmed. “That’s when I leave for the airport, anyway.”

He was not serious. He couldn’t be.

“You’re seriously--”

“Going to spend the next twelve or so hours with you, yeah,” he said in one quick breath. “If you’ll let me.”

Read NOW on Patreon // Tumblr // Wattpad

This took a minute (yes, I hate italicizing from Google and making a Wattpad cover that much. Yes, I will avoid it like the plague. Yes, there was a lot else going on, as well). Thank you to all of you who were patient! I hope you enjoy xx

The knock on your door was too loud, insistent, and rhythmic for it to be an accident, but it was too early for it to be anybody you’d want in your room. 

Whatever it was in the Miami air, it’d absolutely drained you of all energy. Every night since you’d landed, you’d passed out at 11:00pm, sharp, and slept until around 7:30 or 8:00 in the morning, and the only reason you got out of bed then was the only reason you were even in the city to begin with. 

“Work trip? To Miami?” 

Harry had brightened considerably when you mentioned when and where you’d be going for a quick turnaround, and you hadn’t understood why until he told you what wasn’t quite public yet. He’d be working, too, and his calendar was full (he’d absolutely deserved the ribbing you gave him when he told you that), but, “‘S’nice sometimes, y’know? To have a friend around?” 

Friend. You hadn’t seen your friend in the three days it’d been since you landed. Even despite being in the same hotel. Even despite having pockets of time in both your schedules that worked, and while part of it might be your fault and your inability to stay awake, part of it was just… timing. 

So much of what was between you could be boiled down to timing and lack thereof. Why would a weekend be any different? Why, on this weekend, would you be able to make it work when he had meetings and events jammed in and you had obligations of your own? Why would now work any better than the other opportunities that had fizzled despite every hope, effort, and intention? 

The knocking continued and you groaned, throwing the blankets you’d been huddled under down the bed as you twisted to look at the hotel alarm clock. 

Six in the morning. Six! And they were still going! They’d better be telling you something extremely good or extremely awful to be trying to break down your door this early, but when you glanced through the peephole, your annoyance was tempered with shock and a shot of elation. He was looking up and down the hall, suitcase on the ground next to him and already dressed for the day, and it was then you became aware of how little you were dressed. 

“Hang--” You cleared your throat and tapped the door. “Hang on, I’ll be right….” You scrambled back to the armchair you’d thrown your robe on last night to have something on over the camisole and underwear you’d crawled into bed with before twisting the locks and opening the door. “Is everything-- what are you doing here?” 

His shoulders rose and fell with his deep breath and you swore you thought his eyes took a quick trip up and down your body. “Morning,” he said, his own voice miles smoother than yours. How long had he been awake? “D’you mind if I…?”

You shook your head and stepped back and he and his baggage disappeared into your room as you closed up. When you rejoined him, he’d deposited his suitcase next to the luggage rack that held yours, and he’d taken off the tinted sunglasses that he had no business wearing so early in the morning, anyway. “Did they kick you out?” you asked, still struggling to grasp for real words that meant anything. 

He smiled halfway and shook his head. “No, nothing like that.” Now that he was in your room, you could pay attention to him. His hair looked like it still had a little bit of leftover product in it, but not in a dirty, greasy way. His loose-fitting trousers were fastened snugly right above his hips, but it was the t-shirt that made your mouth go dry and your mind wander. Tight and tucked into his trousers, gloves wished they could fit hands like this fit his torso. It was close, and you could see practically every line and indentation of his stomach and chest. 

“Hmm?”

He laughed once. “I didn’t say anything.”

“Oh.” You took a deep breath. “Why are you here?” you asked.

“Figured I’d come hang out.”

You looked at the alarm clock next to your bed. “It’s 6:15.” 

He had the grace to look at least a little embarrassed. “Yeah, but… it’s my last day here. And I haven’t seen you once.”

“You were busy,” you said automatically, a familiar excuse that had become rote at some point. “We were--”

“Yeah.” He rubbed his hands together and cleared his throat. Busy, busy, always busy. “But my flight’s not until this afternoon, so I thought… my morning’s free, and if you want to….” 

“What time is your flight?”

Eleven, twelve, one…?

“Five.”

“Five!?” 

“Thirty,” he confirmed. “That’s when I leave for the airport, anyway.” 

He was not serious. He couldn’t be. 

“You’re seriously--”

“Going to spend the next twelve or so hours with you, yeah,” he said in one quick breath. “If you’ll let me.” 

His eyes were wide and hopeful but guarded, you realized, anticipating the possibility that you might say no. 

“I’ve been trying for days.” The quiet confession almost drowned in the deafening silence of the room, and in that moment, you remembered every missed call, every text, every visit to your door that he’d stolen just to see you before he had to run off to an event and you had to crawl into bed. You remembered every fleeting embrace, every missed kiss to the corner of your mouth, every look that had lasted a second too long to be normal and lacked the ability to make him stay. “But we just never… s’never a good time, so I’m making the time for you now. If that’s something you want.” 

“Do I want time with you?” You clutched the neckline of your robe like an old woman clutched pearls, and your throat felt tight, full of words you’d swallowed again, and again, and again. Did you want time with him? Of course you wanted time with him. Five minutes, five hours, five days, five years, you wanted anything he could give, but you’d given up on that a little bit. Not on him, but on you. 

“Can y’make time?” His throat bobbed and the smile he gave you was crushingly vulnerable even with its self-assured charm. “For me?” 

Yes or no. In or out. Carpe diem. 

You nodded and it was like a pin had pricked the bubble around both of you, tension easing out in a whistle. Harry shuffled closer and you stood, glued to the carpet in your bare feet, as he lifted his hands. He hesitated for a moment and you saw a glimpse of his tongue held between his lips in thought before he cupped your cheeks. Together, you exhaled, and your eyes closed, heart racing uncontrollably. His hands were warm, sturdy, and soft in their own way, and your lips parted when he drew his thumbs along the apples of your cheeks. 

Days after weeks after months after who knew how long, and now he was standing in front of you in a hotel room of all places with less than twelve hours before he had to leave for the airport, but if it was all the time in the world you had…. 

He kissed you, then, and what little time you had left stood still. A distinct sensation of relief flooded through you, like a geyser that had been waiting to gush, and you sighed through your nose, leaning into his mouth. He’d shaved, but you could still feel the sandpaper of his chin against yours, and it was a sharp contrast to the soft sweep of his tongue into your mouth. For all of five seconds, you couldn’t think, or move, but when he groaned -- deep, throaty, and in a way only he could -- it snapped something in you. 

His chest and stomach were firm under your roaming hands, although you liked the softness around his hips best because of the way he sucked in a quick breath. You curled your fingers into the cotton and swayed when he stepped forward and tipped your head back to deepen the kiss further, showing both his hand and his greed, and it was your turn to whimper when he slipped one of his hands down your neck and over your shoulder underneath the robe you’d thrown on. Not anything like the friendly pats and lingering squeezes he’d given you in the past and that you’d returned in kind. There was intent for skin, skin, and more skin in this, and you’d no sooner put your hand on the knot around your waist than he’d joined your fingers with his to pull what you hadn’t realized you’d tied so well. 

You shivered when it dropped to the floor, but stretched yourself out against his body when he wrapped his arms ever so carefully around your back. It was like despite having his tongue down your throat (don’t think about it, or you’ll laugh and ruin the moment, you reminded yourself), he still wasn’t sure if he was allowed to touch you or where he could put his hands. It was sweet -- funny, but sweet, and respectful in a way you hadn’t anticipated but could have, maybe, expected? He was only a man, and common decency was a low bar, but if the situation were reversed, you didn’t know if you’d think or be able to do the same. His arms were crossed over your back at his forearms, but you could sense his palms hovering out to the side even as kisses grew increasingly frantic with nicking teeth and off center meetings of your mouths. Focusing very hard on not losing those, you clumsily squeezed his bicep until he relinquished his hold a bit, but before he could finish his mumbled question, you grabbed his wrist and, without preamble, placed his hand on one of your breasts. 

Despite not wanting to lose the kisses -- they were good kisses, needed kisses, kisses you’d waited a long time for -- you both broke and stood there, nose to nose, chests heaving with his hand cupped over your breast. This was….

“S’different,” he rasped and you nodded. Not just friends, not just kissing. You ran your thumb along the back of his hand, over tendons that were struggling not to flex and to squeeze and feel. He must’ve taken the pause as hesitation, because he started to pull his hand away, but you shook your head and held his hand in place before bearing down on it with gentle pressure. 

“Ok,” you whispered breathlessly, nodding slightly, and when he kissed you again, he caught your chin, then your jaw, your neck -- all the way down -- and then across your shoulder. You were glad he was holding onto you when your head tipped back as he pulled the strap of your camisole to the side to sponge eager kisses any and everywhere you’d let him, because honestly? If he didn’t have his arm slanted between your shoulder blades, your legs would’ve crumpled from underneath you. 

As it was, you both nearly tripped on your robe when you moved backwards towards the bed, and you landed harder than he did. Your laughs were welcome in the moment, though, and did nothing to alter the mood, and you were still giggling when he resumed his kisses. They only quieted when he reached your chest, and for some inexplicable reason, you tried very hard not to breathe as his own and his lips and the tip of his nose dragged and tickled your skin, but when he slipped his fingers under your neckline to tug it down, there was no need to try at all. 

“Holy shit,” he uttered under his breath in faint disbelief. You didn’t even have time to process the fact that he was in awe of you, before his lips were on your breasts, moving between them in a very careful, very attentive, almost laughably even way, like he didn’t want to miss anything. Your back arched slightly when he settled against you, body warm and mouth hot between your breasts as he nuzzled, kissed, licked, and sucked, taking his time to learn how they felt and what made you moan. As he explored, you did, too, if less so, but your hands found his hair, and petted his face, and ran up and down his shoulders, arms, and back. It was when his own reached between your legs that you clamped your thighs down over his wrist and he lifted up.

“Ok?” His eyes were dark and his hair mussed -- partially thanks to you -- and the pink flush in his cheeks had nothing on the color of his mouth. His forehead was damp and you belatedly realized your chest was, too, and you could feel yourself quivering with the heat of his hand pressed so intimately against you. 

“Yes.” You pressed your hand to his cheek and he turned into your wrist, breathing deeply and kissing your pulse point. 

“Is this…?” He swallowed. “I don’t-- we don’t have to do anything more, I only--” 

“No,” you rushed to say. “No, I just… wasn’t expecting--”

“I’m sorry, I should’ve--”

“It’s ok,” you said. “I’m ok. I want to, it just felt--” New, different, good, so fucking good, and it’d surprised you. 

“Sure?”

Wordlessly, you nodded, and forced your legs to open despite how tense with anticipation they were. You nodded again and let out a slow breath, but he watched you until your eyes closed and your body melted into the mattress. When he finally ran his thumb down your slit through your underwear, you clenched and bit your lip to muffle a sound, lips twitching. This felt… nice. Better than nice, this care and intention stoked something in you that you didn’t remember feeling since you were a frustrated and hormonal teenager raging out of control. He was going to fit the minutes and hours from days and months that had been squandered into every second of the twelve hours you had left, wasn’t he? 

Harry pressed his thumb into your clit and rubbed smooth, warm circles over it, and you touched the back of your hand to your mouth. “That’s good,” you mumbled, heartbeat quickening, face crumpling when he increased the pressure slightly. It was when he kissed your abdomen that you whimpered and pushed your hand into his hair, but he kept kissing along the waistband of your underwear, and your belly tensed when he took a deep breath. You weren’t quite aware of when or how he got them off you -- let alone how he’d managed to do so seamlessly and without awkward wriggles or kicks or knees to his face -- but you were very aware of when he finally had you spread open and he was on his stomach between your legs. You were very aware of how hot his breath was on your cunt, and you were very aware of the sound of that first delicate, velvety lick in dead silence. He got through three, maybe four, careful, languid strokes of his tongue in, with his eyes closed in steadfast concentration and his hair falling over his brow before he licked up your slit and finished it with your clit firmly suctioned into his mouth. 

Your jaw dropped in awe. “Oh my--!” His lips fluttered and your whole chest opened with your breath. “Ah…!” 

He groaned and your eyes watered, and you watched, unable to tear yourself away. He was ravenous -- eating you out like his life depended on it while simultaneously holding back and never giving or taking as much as either of you wanted. Each glide of his tongue was deep and smooth, and each suck hollowed his cheeks for only a moment. You whimpered and pulled your fingers through his hair uselessly to quell the jitters and need to do something. Every time you thought he was going to suckle for a little longer, a little harder, he’d break off abruptly and the inch you’d gained climbing would be erased by your backslide. You were sweating from the effort and duration it was taking -- your breasts and stomach had a sheen on them, and your thighs slipped against the side of his head. His roots were damp and hot, too, to the point where the air conditioner may as well have stopped working, but for all the world he looked like he’d never been happier or more content than he was to be eating your pussy. 

“H-Harry….” Your breath hitched, a muted cry caught in your throat when again he released the toe-curling suction too soon for it to matter. “Please, please,” you begged, fingers combing through his hair as your pelvis rolled under his mouth. “I can’t… I wanna cum.” Straight to the point, unable to wheedle or dance around the subject -- it wasn’t like he didn’t have his face pressed into your cunt right then or anything. “I wanna cum, I really--” 

His eyes, which had been closed up until that point, slowly opened and locked on you, darker than you thought you’d ever seen them. One of his hands unstuck itself from your thigh and he reached up your stomach and you clasped it in yours, fingers laced tightly with an almost crushing intensity between his as you nodded encouragingly, desperately, mouthing please, please to him. He shifted against the mattress, then, and, still holding your gaze and your hand, he puckered his lips.

The ugliest sound ripped from your chest, but you laughed in almost hysterical relief because he wasn’t stopping -- at long last, he wasn’t stopping, and the pressure and tension tickling your abdomen grew tighter, promising to live to its full potential. “Holy shit!” you breathed, smiling despite yourself. “Oh, God, I’m gonna cum… you’re gonna make me cum, I’m-- oh!” 

You cried out when he pressed his mouth closer, rutting his face against you in a steady rhythm. The last thing you saw before you closed your eyes were his, and you wheezed and whimpered your way through convulsions with their hunger burned into your eyes as you called out for him. You’d never felt an orgasm like this -- so thorough, deep, and full bodied, and entirely draining. 

“Fuck!” 

It wasn’t the guttural swear that made your eyes fly open even as the room spun, but the sensation of his teeth against your thigh. Not hard, but sharp, and when you looked at him you found his face screwed up against your leg, rutting against the mattress. Belatedly, your brain put the pieces together -- it wasn’t just his face in your cunt, it’d been his whole body, the whole time, driving himself against the bed in search of his own relief with his mouth full of you and your thigh when he wasn’t whimpering breathless apologies and confessions of how hard he was (“M’sorry-- oh, shit, m’so-- m’hard, m’sorry, love, m’so-- hurts, I just need--!”). He squeezed your thigh with bruising force, letting out keening moans as his shakes turned to shudders, and you knew he was finished when he let out a noise so deep your hair stood on end and he came to a sudden stop with his face still burrowed against your leg.

“Fuck,” he rasped. “F-fuck, s’so… sorry, that’s….” He pressed his forehead into your skin. “That was incredible,” he said, voice thick and unevenly pitched. “You were….” 

He picked his head up and wiped his mouth and the tip of his nose with his thumb before slipping it past his lips and sucking lightly, forehead lined in agony. With weak fingers, you tugged the back of his t-shirt, and he crawled on even weaker hands and knees up your body. It was a struggle to get it untucked from his trousers and even worse to get it off his torso from how damp it was, but eventually you did, and you threw it away with a whoosh and a thud. He kicked his worn in white Vans off his feet and they landed with a thunk off the side of the bed, and his trousers were next, and when they were gone, you flattened yourself against him, mouth on his shoulder and leg between his, desperately seeking skin on skin. 

“Alright?” He cupped the back of your head. “Ok?” You nodded and he kissed your forehead. “You’re ok,” he mumbled. “You’re good, honey.”

“Are you?” you asked against him. Because he couldn’t stop trembling -- his muscles kept jumping under your touch and his heart was giving its own big band performance in his chest. 

“L’be fine,” he said. “Be ok, just need… need a minute.” 

Gradually, his heart and yours both slowed and heavy breathing evened out. And the last thing you saw before you closed your eyes for good and slipped under was the time.

6:52. Ten and a half hours to go. 

#harry smut #harry styles smut #harry styles x reader #reader insert fanfiction #harry x reader #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles blurb #harry styles one shot #twelve hours in miami #twelve hours in miami 1 #permanentcross #permanentcross fic #original writing

[spencerspecifics]

HI HI HI PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE WRITE MOREID AT PRIDE AND SOME PINING AND SPENCER THINKS DEREK IS STRAIGHT BUT HE ISN'T AND THEY KIIIITTTTTHHHHH

I absolutely love your energy fuck yes!! I’m so sorry this took forever, ive got school, work and some other personal things happening so I appreciate your patience!

No TW, B u t, a creep hits on Spencer at pride, so if that is upsetting please note that! Thanks :)

———————————————————————

Pride

———————————————————————

Garcia had been pestering Spencer about going to pride for the past week now, and it was slowly driving him insane.

He used almost every excuse he could think of. When he first turned her down, he had simply said, “Sorry, I’m going to be busy that week.” And of course, Garcia being Garcia, she stole his calendar to see what he was busy with (spoiler alert: he had nothing. Except a reminder to go grocery shopping, and email some professors and research scientists back).

So, she persisted, and he came up with a dozen more excuses; “I was considering flying out to see my mom”, “The local museum has a new interactive archeology exhibit for adults, and I want to learn more about ancient structures”, “I have to do a presentation on thermodynamics”.

None of those excuses work, as she sniffed out every lie, “Spencer, you hate flying to Vegas last minute, that archaeology exhibit has been open for months, and your calendar is empty!”

So with her persistence, and legitimate bullying, Spencer found himself finally agreeing. “Fine, but come over to my apartment before we leave so you can help me.” After all, he wasn’t really familiar with pride parades, and what the scene was like there. He was going to be a fish out of water, he already knew that for certain.

~

True to her word, Garcia showed up an hour before the pride parade was set to start, carrying a coffee in each hand- how she possibly knocked on his apartment door, Spencer didn’t know.

“I brought you a pick me up, that way you have no excuse to be in a bad mood!” She spoke in her signature sing song voice as Spencer let her inside, she barreled in like a hurricane. God, Spencer wasn’t ready for this.

“Thanks..” Spencer decided to reply with that lame response, and not with what he was actually thinking. He took the coffee from her wordlessly as she stepped in further, going to sit down on his couch.

“You excited?” Garcia asked as she set her cup down on his cluttered coffee table. Reid just shrugged, “I don’t know. I don’t do great with crowds.”

“But you do great with disarming murderers?” “You know that’s different-” Spencer said, doing his best to argue, “Reid it is literally not. Both are anxiety inducing, but one is life or death, and it’s not pride. So you can do this.”

Spencer sighed, resigning himself to not arguing with Garcia. Because she was right, though at times her arguments sounded wild. He just had to get over this anxiety and show up at pride, he could do this, right?

~

Wrong. So, very, wrong. They had left his apartment with thirty minutes to spare, deciding to walk over to where pride was being held- as it was only a few blocks away in a public park.

And as soon as they got there, Spencer wanted out. There were so many people, more than he estimated (and his estimations were usually spot on.), and there was just chaos everywhere. Music, dancing, shouting, singing, drag queens running around happily. Spencer wasn’t sure what to do. He was out of his element.

Garcia seemed to sense that, though, as she dragged Spencer over to some stalls that sold pride flags, pins, and other miscellaneous pride related things.

“C’mon Reid, why don’t you look around and find something you like?” She offered up, something for him to do- something for him to stay busy with. He could do that. Spencer nodded simply, Garcia stayed by his side- looking at pride related wear for herself.

~

Spencer ended up deciding on a small pin that simply said; “love all”, planning to stick it on his messenger bag strap. Garcia bought a pin as well, but hers just had her pronouns on them; “she/her/hers”.

Looking at all the pride apparel was a good distraction for Spencer, he felt a lot more calmer now- though that didn’t stop him from feeling like he stuck out like a sore thumb. He’s just not familiar with this world, and it’s awkward to suddenly be in the middle of it.

Spencer was in the middle of looking at another booth that sold flags, possibly considering buying himself a small one to stick in his pencil cup at work, because Garcia left him to go compliment a drag queen- when a voice broke through.

“Hey, pretty boy!”

That was a voice all too familiar, what on earth was Morgan doing here? Spencer looked up at him as he made his way towards him. “Hey,” Spencer spoke awkwardly. Not sure what to say.

Spencer was gay. He was fine with admitting he was gay, but he hadn’t really told the team. He thought they figured it out on their own. And they probably had, but still, having his coworker see him at a pride event- it was anxiety inducing.

“What’re- what’re you doing here?” Spencer asked, stumbling over his words as he dropped the small flag he was holding back onto the vendors table.

“Oh, well I’m on the local PFLAG committee. I’m just here to hand out flyers and stuff. But I’m glad to see you’re here, I’m guessing Garcia’s here too?” He asked Spencer casually, as if he hadn’t just dropped a bomb on Spencer.

He was on the PFLAG committee? Why? To help queer people, obviously, but that had to mean he was gay or something- Spencer couldn’t stop his mind from coming up with every possible answer to why Derek was on the committee.

Spencer just nodded in response, he moved himself back from the vendors table to get out of the way, so other customers could look at the flags being sold.

“Yeah, she’s- there.” Reid pointed her out, as if on cue she came out of the thick crowd that had started to gather back up, the parade portion of pride had concluded by now, and people were coming over to the vendors section.

“Hey, Babygirl!” Derek called over to her, and Garcia somehow lit up with a smile brighter than the one she was wearing before, “Well, hey!” She responded enthusiastically, walking up swiftly to give Derek a quick embrace, which he happily returned.

“I wasn’t sure how long you were staying for, but I’m glad I caught you!” Garcia started rambling to Derek, about how the drag queen she met was so nice; “Her name was Mysteria Hysteria. Isn’t that genius?”.

~

Spencer just stepped back from them both, not sure what to do, not sure if he fully belonged. Pride was a nice event, it was. But the longer he stood around, the more he felt like he should be leaving. Everyone was laughing and smiling, everyone was just happy. And Spencer couldn’t stop racking his brain. In the beginning, he couldn’t stop thinking because of his anxiety, but now he was searching his brain for a reason why Derek was here and what it meant.

Of course, a stupid large portion of Spencer’s mind went to “maybe Morgan likes men”, and then an even larger and stupider portion of his mind had the absurdity to think; “maybe he’s interested in me”. Which Spencer did not even want to remotely entertain, because if he fell down that rabbit hole, he’d never climb back out.

Because yes, he did like Derek. He liked him a lot, the start for his liking towards the man was innocuous enough- which is why it was a problem for Spencer. He didn’t realized he liked Morgan until it was too late. And now he had been battling these feelings for years. Spencer wasn’t ever going to act on them, he just had to live with them- which he had been doing, which he has been content with. But this new information, about Morgan being here, being part of PFLAG- it was going to make Reid’s mind implode in on itself.

~

Reid decided the best thing was to say; “I’m gonna get some water, I’ll be back.” To which Derek and Garcia both nodded to, and Spencer was off, away from the vendors stand and the only two people he knew at pride.

And while that was a good thing, it was simultaneously not so good. Because now he was alone, overwhelmed, and thinking too much. And now he had a task to do, find himself some water.

~

That task seemed to be more difficult than anticipated, as the prides layout was a confusing maze, spencer had to pass in front of a group of drag queens in order to get to the food trucks that were on site- but he eventually got there.

He walked up to the first food truck he saw, it didn’t matter what they sold, he wasn’t getting it.

“What can I get for you?” The cashier asked him, “Just a water, please.” He ordered, the cashier nodded and pulled a bottle out from a cooler that was nearby within the truck, handing it over to spencer as they told him his total, a dollar twenty five. Spencer paid quickly, stepping back and away from the food truck, as he wasn’t sure where else to go now. He didn’t want to go back towards Derek or Garcia, he honestly wanted to go home.

He just needed a minute, some space and time to breathe and relax. He was stressing himself out. And about what? Nothing of goddamn importance, just a stupid crush he had been living with for a while now.

~

Spencer had been leaning against the back the food truck for not long, only a couple of minutes as he was absorbed in thought as he fiddled with the cap on the water bottle.

He was doing his best to follow the grounding techniques he had learned, something to help him calm down, when suddenly- a stranger emerged out of the crowd.

“Hey there, handsome.” The man said confidently as he strode up to introduce himself Spencer. Spencer looked up to meet his eyes, the man in question was a fine looking guy, chiseled jawline, long shoulder length hair, a bit of facial stubble. He was handsome. “Hello,” Spencer answered hollowly in response. In an ordinary situation, he would try and seem more lively- but he wasn’t in a normal situation, not at all.

The anxiety of attending pride was stress enough on its own, but now knowing the guy he had been drooling over for years was here- and worked as a PFLAG volunteer? It was enough to make him lose his mind.

The man didn’t seem to notice Spencer’s empty response, however, as he answered suavely in response; “I couldn’t help but notice you from across the way. I’m Fabian,” Thankfully, the man- Fabian, didn’t stick his hand out for a handshake, instead casually pushing his hair back a bit.

“I’m Spencer,” Reid replied simply, knowing it was best to ride this odd social interaction out, rather than try and fight it. “That’s a lovely name,” Fabian complimented, “Is this your first time at pride, Spencer?” He asked him casually, taking a step forward, closer to Spencer. He was all too confident for Spencer, he too comfortable with invading Spencer’s space. If Spencer could’ve, he would’ve stepped back.

“Uh, yeah. My friend dragged me along.” Reid explained, twisting the bottle cap back onto his half empty water bottle. Fabian nodded, “Your boyfriend didn’t take you?” Fabian asked him. That was a leading question, Spencer had alarm bells ringing in his head the second he heard it. “No. He- um- he met up with us here.” Spencer replied unconvincingly, Fabian obviously did not believe a word he said.

“Well,” Fabian took another step forward, practically blocking Reid in against the back of the food truck, leaning in farther to whisper in Spencer’s ear; “I don’t see him around. So, why don’t you and I get out of here? Hm?”

Spencer wasn’t sure of what to do. He wanted to kick this guy in the crotch and just book it, but he wasn’t sure if his FBI status would protect him in this scenario. He wasn’t sure what could protect him in this scenario.

“Pretty boy! There you are!” A saving grace broke through, and suddenly Fabian was stepping back, and Morgan was walking up.

Thank god, thank fucking god, that’s all Spencer could manage to think as Derek came to stand beside him. “Hey, babe.” Spencer said, cringing at his voice, at what he just said. But that feeling only lasted for a moment as Fabian was still standing right there, staring them both down now.

Spencer could only throw his wish in the sky and hope Derek caught it coming down, ‘please catch along to why I’m calling you babe’ Reid was trying to say.

And Derek caught it, “Hey, baby, was worried about you. Who’s your friend?” He said in his smooth voice, a voice Spencer couldn’t forget. He especially couldn’t forget now, being called ‘baby’ was something Spencer especially could not forget.

“I’m Fabian, you’re Spencer’s boyfriend?” Fabian asked, as if them both calling each other ‘babe’ counted for nothing. “Yeah, I’m Derek.” Morgan responded simply, sliding his hand around Spencer’s waist as if to prove a point. Fabian just nodded, looking between Spencer and Derek one last time before talking; “Well, it was nice to meet you, I’ve gotta get going. See you.”

And then, he was off, fast walking away from Derek and Reid, escaping the terrible situation he had created. Fabian quickly disappeared into the thick crowd, and by then Spencer had his hand squeezing his water bottle all too tightly- as evident by the terrible crunch sound it made. He was too anxious to let go.

“Hey, are you okay?” Derek asked him softly, pulling his hand away from Spencer’s waist. “Can we find somewhere else- can we go sit down?” Spencer asked him quickly. Reid didn’t want to talk about it right this second, right where it had happened. He wanted to leave, he wanted to leave pride and never come back.

~

Derek didn’t ask a single follow up question as he led Reid away from the food trucks, taking him back towards the vendors stands, and then a bit further back, into the normal-not-so-pride-parade-filled park area. Somewhere less stressful, less scary.

“What did that guy want?” Derek asked Spencer casually as they made their way towards a bench that was sat under a large oak tree. Spencer didn’t speak right away, instead he waited until they were seated to start talking.

“He was trying to flirt, but then he wanted me to leave with him.” Spencer explained as he took a deep breath in, just being away from all the loud sounds and sights was helping him calm down. Derek rubbed Spencer’s back in slow, circular motions as Spencer kept talking.

“He was a classic example of a narcissistic personality, it just made me so uncomfortable- he invaded my space.”

“He was a creep, Reid. Simple as that,” Derek kept rubbing Spencer’s back slowly, Spencer nodded. “I know. Sorry, it shook me up.” Spencer attempted to apologized, and Derek was immediately having none of that.

“Reid, no. Don’t apologize for that, don’t you dare. He was a creep, I’m sorry you got caught up with him. It’s okay if you’re shaken up. We can stay here until you feel up to going back, or we can leave. But I’m not leaving you.”

~

And so they sat for a good amount of time on that park bench, at one point Derek stopped rubbing Spencer’s back, instead just keeping his arm stretched out against the back of the bench and against Spencer’s back. Spencer loved it, but he knew if he thought about it for too long he wouldn’t be able to stop thinking. That was his biggest problem, he couldn’t stop thinking.

He had to know, he decided, he couldn’t just wonder why Derek was on the committee for PFLAG. He wanted to know, he had to.

“Derek?” He spoke up softly, sounds of laughing and shouting and music were still heard in the distance, but they were safe from the sounds under the tree. “Mhm?” Derek hummed in response, looking up at the aforementioned tree that was providing shade for them.

His eyes were tracing the way the branches curved and bent around each other, it was something he did to pass the time. Spencer thought he was extraordinary for it, Derek loved to see where things went; he was curious- after all these years, and all the bad they had seen together, Derek still loved to search and find the beauty.

“Why are you on the PFLAG committee ?” Spencer asked him, it was thankfully an innocuous enough ask to not draw too much of Derek profilings side out to pry apart his question. Derek shrugged, and was quiet for a second before responding, “I know what it’s like to be a scared kid, unsure of his identity. If I can help someone through that, that’s all that matters. Same reason I’m in the BAU, to help people.”

Spencer stayed quiet, Derek’s reason was so sincere and so sweet and kind- and only driving him to think further. Was Derek still unsure of his identity? Was he an ally? Why did he have to make Spencer swoon so hard without even trying?

“So, you’re just an ally?” Spencer approached Derek carefully with that question, not wanting to impose or be rude- but just feign simple curiosity, praying Derek wasn’t using his profiling skills right now to decode Spencer’s fake motive.

Derek didn’t notice, thankfully, as he chuckled lowly in response; “No, pretty boy, I’m bisexual. I don’t really tell the team, but it’s not confidential information. Plus, Garcia found Grindr on my phone. Can’t hide anything from that girl.”

Spencer nodded, mumbling something in response about how Garcia had hacked his email to make sure he was free for pride. And then, the two fell into silence again. But it didn’t last for long, because Derek wanted to know just as much, why was Spencer here?

“What about you, Reid?” Derek asked him cautiously, the way you approach a puppy you find on the side of the road. Calm and slow, trying to get him to trust him bit by bit. “What about me?” Spencer asked, not wanting to answer anything about himself unless Derek was specific.

“Are you an ally?” Morgan asked him, leaving the question open ended. Spencer could say as little or as much as he wanted. This is how you get him to open up, Derek knew that for a fact. “Um.. yeah, I mean- who isn’t? I just- I have to be. I’m.. gay.” Spencer admitted all too awkwardly, not at all in a normal fashion. But nothing about Spencer was in normal fashion.

Derek nodded slowly, not responding as he stared back up, tracing his eyes over the tree branches yet again.

~

A few hours had passed, Spencer and Derek eventually left their peaceful bench under the large oak tree, and instead moved back towards the parking lot.

“Garcia’s got a ride home already- I think she got that drag queen to get her home.” Derek explained as they approached his truck, Spencer nodded as he followed Derek. “Anyways,” Derek continued speaking, “I can give you a ride home. Let’s get going.”

“You don’t have to-“ Spencer started, Derek immediately shut him down. “I want to, c’mon. It’s late, you’re tired. I know you are. Let me take you home.” Spencer just nodded in agreement, he couldn’t argue with Derek, even if he did try. Morgan was a stubborn man.

So, Spencer followed Derek into his truck, and they sat in comfortable silence as they started on their journey back to Spencer’s safe space, his apartment.

~

By the time Derek pulled his truck into the apartments parking lot, Spencer knew something was just the slightest bit wrong. Derek had barely spoken for the entire ride, and usually he loves to say something, to make Spencer smile or laugh, or even just nod and mumble in agreement. But he had done none of that on the way to Spencers.

“Are you alright?” Spencer asked, turning to face Derek as he put the vehicle in park. Derek didn’t meet his eyes, staring at the steering wheel instead as he spoke; “Yeah. Sorry. I’m just thinking.”

“About what?” Spencer pried, absentmindedly unbuckling his seatbelt as he spoke, “About today.” Derek said, not explaining further. “Was today bad?”

Derek shook his head, “No. It started weird, it’s ending pretty good, though. But I’m gonna regret today forever if I don’t do something right now.”

Now, Spencer was confused. Not sure at all what Derek could be talking about, “What do you mean?” He asked, voice quieter than before.

Derek said nothing as he unbuckled his own seatbelt, turning to face Spencer as well, and then he leaned in- closer than they had ever been before. Their noses were almost touching, and Spencer didn’t move. Instead, he watched Derek’s eyes expectantly.

Then, Derek broke through, they were no longer intersecting each other’s personal space- now they were fully destroying each other’s atmospheres. Derek’s lips were on Spencer’s, a chaste, soft, quick kiss- something Spencer would have wanted to go for a lot longer. But then, he pulled away just as fast.

“...That’s what I meant..” He mumbled after a second, looking back towards the steering wheel, looking away from Spencer- and more importantly, not seeing the smile on Spencer’s face.

Spencer couldn’t help it. He knew it was terrible to be smiling right now- he should jump and say something to fix what was happening. But he had to smile, he couldn’t believe that had actually just happened, his brain was still computing and re-circuiting, trying to savor the memory and not forget how Derek’s lips felt against his.

Spencer dragged himself out of his own head quickly, though. He did all he could think of to do in the moment, get Derek back. “Morgan.” Spencer said, tugging on Derek’s sleeve as he did so, forcing him to look back at Spencer and meet his eyes again.

But Spencer didn’t say anything, and he didn’t give Derek the chance to speak, either. Instead, he leant forward, pressing his lips against Derek’s. This is all he had wanted to know for the longest time, and now he had it.

~

Maybe pride wasn’t so bad after all, you just have to be with the right people for it to work out.

———————————————————————

#criminal minds #cm #spencer reid #derek morgan #aaron hotchner #emily prentiss #Penelope garcia #pride #moreid #fanfiction #ask #jennifer jareau #dave rossi #Tara lewis #dr Spencer reid #mlm #gay #writing #angst #slow burn #boyfriends #love them lol #og shit #Spencer Specific Fics #fanfic #oneshot #user penemily

[sleeperswakewriting]

For the advent calendar event: Post-canon events with wheelchair Levi and Petra celebrating the holidays in Marley (can be be horny porny or wholesome i'm game with any)

Rivetra Advent Calendar: Day 6

Last of the Advent Calendar! It's been fun 😘I have two longer fics for the Rivetra Secret Santa. If I have time, we'll get How the Captain Stole Christmas, but we'll see how busy I am!

Rating: E

Word Count: 1.4k

Out of all the holidays Petra has come to love in Marley, Christmas is her favorite. While the lore behind the event sounded far-fetched (something about a man and his followers? Sounded like a cult to her!), the whimsical traditions, the festivities that lined the streets in decor and merriment, it gave her something to look forward to every winter season.

The best part was that it landed on her husband’s birthday, though Levi would say it made his day even more of a headache than it needed to be.

“I want some damn peace and quiet for my birthday,” he said every year since they moved to Marley. One lost eye, several scars, and wheelchair-bound, Petra liked to joke to him he had become an old man after they defeated Eren.

Retired from the Scouts, Levi had taken to becoming a househusband, first by buying a house in Marley, and second, marrying Petra. They had been an item for some time, solidified after the Female Titan incident and grieving from their lost squad. Levi told her he wasn’t the marrying type and to not get her hopes up, and Petra happily agreed. It would be a miracle if they survived to see the end of it everything.

But they did, and as soon as reparations were made under the leadership of the remaining Scouts, Levi popped the question on the boat ride over.

“Thought you weren’t the marrying type,” she jeered, though red-faced and teary-eyed.

“Tch, I need to lock you down before some brat steals you away. There’s a whole world of men out there.” Petra rolled her eyes, but under his bravado, she knew Levi was insecure about losing his Ackerman abilities. Going from lifting five times his weight to nothing at all, she knew he longed for days when he could fly through the air and pin her to the nearest wall.

Speaking of her husband, Petra called for him to help zip up the remainder of her dress. Petra emerged in a dazzling dark green dress, glittering from head to toe. A sweetheart cut-out accentuated her breasts and off-the-shoulder chiffon sleeves highlighted her collar bones.

Marley was hosting their holiday party to commemorate three years of peace within the nations, and she and Levi were invited as special guests. People rarely recognized Levi, but Petra was actively involved in the Eldian rights board after they purchased their home in Liberio.

“Shit, I think I think my bowtie is lopsided,” Levi grumbled, wheeling himself into their bedroom. He fiddled with the collar of his white dress shirt, then raised his gaze to find Petra. Slack-jawed, he took a moment to collect himself as he took his wife in, her skin radiating in the candlelight. Though it had been nearly ten years, he still found her utterly breathtaking, her laugh lines a reminder of everything they had been fighting for.

Petra giggled. “Like what you see, Captain?”

The honorific slipped out more than he cared for, but Levi didn’t bother correcting her. When she was being particularly bratty, he would call her Ral and they would slip into their old banter.

Levi eyed her cleavage and licked his lips. “You’re really gonna go out in that?”

“Mhmm,” Petra hummed and squatted to his level so he could zip up the remainder of her dress, but Levi’s eyes darted to where the zipper stopped at the small of her back. “It’s all the rage in Marley right now. They’re called rhinestones.”

Long fingers trailed down her spine and Petra shivered under his touch. Goosebumps rose, not from the chill in the air, and Levi continued his ministrations while moving to caress her waist. A lithe, but powerful grip signaled his desire, and he brought his hand to cup a breast while he leaned over to kiss her bare back.

“Levi,” Petra sighed, and her back hit his shin while he pulled her closer. “We’re going to be late.”

“Don’t care,” Levi hissed and nipped her ear lobe, earning a cry. “I hate these shitty events and listening to geezers talk about bull.” Being mindful of the material, Levi removed himself from his wife but nudged the tip of his shoe into her ass. “Take this off.”

“Yes sir,” Petra purred and wasted no time in discarding the dress and placed it onto the bed. Her makeup was about to be ruined, the red lip she spent minutes applying about to be undone with Levi’s kisses, and she suddenly regretted the amount of mascara she was wearing.

Naked, wearing nothing but a thong under her dress, Petra felt desire pool in between her thighs as she took in Levi’s fully clothed state. He parked himself against the wall, the brake of his wheelchair in its stopped position, and she sashayed towards him, making sure to dip her hips with each step forward.

Her husband raised a finger to beckon her closer, and not needing to be told twice, she sat in his lap. Arms immediately wrapped around her while he hungrily kissed her, his lips begging for attention. Levi’s kisses were always filled with passion, needy, and Petra loved him for it. Years of peace hadn’t changed her Captain’s demeanor, but in the moments where he felt free, they were unbridled.

“So. Fucking. Sexy,” he huffed between sucking the pulse points on her neck. “Shouldn’t let you go out looking like that.”

“But I’d be on your arm,” she gasped.

“Everyone thinks I’m a dirty old man anyway, this would confirm it.”

“Well, aren’t you a dirty old man?” Petra teased, and that earned a slap on her ass. Eyes darkening, Petra moaned while slickness stained Levi’s dress pants.

“Touch me,” she begged. Despite Levi’s lack of fingers on one hand, he was still an expert in dexterity, and riding his digits felt like heaven. He knew just how to enter her and add in fingers, his dirty talk edging her further as he asked how many more fingers she could take. His breath was hot on her ear as Petra pressed herself to him, legs spread apart, and her tits squished against his neck while she unraveled in his arms.

Levi tweaked a nipple, earning a cry, and Petra shook with pleasure as he swallowed her bliss with a kiss. Her walls clenched around his hand, and she bobbed up and down on his lap, needing more friction.

“More, baby.”

He knew what that sound meant, and with a drag of his ring finger down the curve of her ass, he slipped it into her hole, earning a wild cry. He stretched her, not a new sensation to either of them and as Petra felt fucked from both ends, she came with sweat rolling down her temples. Lipstick ruined, hair disheveled, Levi cradled her softly until she caught her breath.

“Your turn,” she whispered, unclipping his belt. The shape of his cock outlined his pants, his perfect length begging to be released. His clothing was ruined, her desire soaked on every seam and stitch, and she would have been embarrassed if this were the first time.

Levi palmed her breasts as if they were gifts, and he took a nipple into each mouth, suckling and biting until he softly requested, “Can you fuck me like this?”

A regular position for them, Petra let his length spring free, fully erect, and sat on his cock to take him to the hilt. Levi choked out a gasp, his eye wide like he was in a dream. Petra held up her tits, her gaze sultry while she encouraged him to rest his face between them.

“All yours.”

Levi groaned, thinking he would be muttering a prayer if he were religious, but Petra was a goddess in herself and buried himself in her chest. She set the rhythm, knowing just what he liked. Every time she moved, it was like he was becoming reborn again. His light, his everything, Petra, he wanted to drown in her plushness and never return.

The wheelchair squeaked and groaned beneath them, the wheels thudding against the wall, and Petra braced herself with her hands on his shoulders.

“Use me,” he sighed, only for her.

And she did, her pace pounding to ensure he saw stars when he came. The grip on her tits bordered on pleasure and pain, his nails digging into the suppleness of her skin. Each crescent was a reminder of his devotion, his love, and Petra savored the little marks along her body.

Their grandfather clock struck the hour, reverberating throughout the house. The couple stilled, and Petra didn’t move from his cock while she threaded her fingers through his hair.

Voice hazy, she giggled, “We’re officially late.”

#sleeperswakewriting advent calendar #rivetra #rivetra fanfiction #levi x petra #my fics

[spicyspencerreid]

The Wonderful Benefits Of Physical Touch

A Spencer Reid Imagine

Female!Reader, BAU!Reader// A whole 4939 words

Warnings// Mentions of domestic abuse (not inflicted on reader or involving Spencer), kissing, A SHIT TON OF FLUFF, language, lack of spellcheck, this is just so so so so so soft like- I know it’s long, but it’ll make your heart warm

Summary// Reader’s had trouble sleeping for the past couple of nights and Spencer notices something’s off with her, it comes out when they have to share a hotel room and he helps her fall asleep.

Key// Y/f/n- Your first name, Y/m/n- Your middle name, Y/l/n- Your last name

Not my gif: I hope you guys enjoy, I love this one and spent wayyyyy too much time on it!!

You woke up in a cold sweat, your least favorite way to wake up. You were shivering, but you could feel sweat slowly dripping down your face. You took a second to catch your breath before trying to remember where you were. You noticed the sun, then your light blue curtains, then your alarm clock. 5:00AM. You sighed, having finally fell asleep at 4:30, you hoped you’d get more than a half hour of sleep before you needed to be up at 6:00, but it looks like that wasn’t in the cards for you. 

You were exhausted, and there was nothing worse than being exhausted and not being able to sleep. Luckily, coffee had been enough to keep you going for the past couple of weeks. You weren’t exactly sure why you couldn’t sleep. At first you were having nightmares, but they’d gone away. 

 A month ago, your older sister, Hailee, went missing. A week after she showed up at your doorstep, told you she was running from her abusive husband.

You heard a knock on your door, causing all the hairs on the back of your neck to stand up. You reached in the drawer of your entry table, pulling out your gun. To be completely honest, you hated guns, probably because you’d blamed them for a good amount of the problems in the world, but as the communications liaison, you were required to have one for your job. 

You peered through the peephole of your apartment, dropping the gun on the ground when you saw who it was. You pulled open the door as fast as possible, pulling her into a hug as tears poured out of your eyes.

“Never, ever scare me like that again Hails,” your sister was in charge of public relations for Givenchy in Paris, and every time she visited you she brought you an exclusive portfolio of their latest designs. So when you felt a book up against your chest, you weren’t surprised, and didn’t give it a second thought, “What’s this?” You opened the book to scroll through the pages, only to gasp at what you saw. Broken ribs, broken legs, broken everything. 

“My medical records...” you looked up at her to see you hadn’t made eye contact this entire time, meaning you hadn’t noticed the dark purple under her eye. You knew instantly, having seen it too much in your line of work, “I wanna put him in jail, but I had to get out of there first. I checked the calendar you sent me looking for your next day off and booked the quickest flight I could get. I wanted to tell you, I’m so sorry-” You and your sister were closer than ever, and you cursed yourself for not picking up on it when she wasn’t coming to many more family events. She probably knew if you saw her with him in person you’d pick up on it instantly. 

“Stop apologizing, we’re gonna put that asshole in jail, okay?” She nodded and you pulled her back into another hug. 

“I-I have recordings. Of him yelling at me, do we need them?” She choked out through tears. All your life she’d been your protector since you were kids, but more importantly, she was your best friend, only two years apart from you in age, which is why you knew something was off when she hadn’t called to check up on you in a week like she normally did. Your parents refused to report her missing, not that you tried to get them to or anything, they just assumed she was in between countries and not able to answer her phone. Spencer and JJ could both tell something was up with you at work, but didn’t want to push you. You ended up telling them you could feel something was off with your sister, and you hadn’t slept, but if anyone could work on no sleep, it was you. 

“That would be good, go sit down. Does he know you’re gone? I’m gonna get you water.” You went straight into your kitchen, filling up a glass. 

“I don’t think so. I told him I had to go on a business trip, even bought a plane ticket to London and everything. I was gonna call mom and dad, but I didn’t know if he could tap into my phone or something.” You handed her the glass.

“I’m gonna make a couple phone calls, you need sleep,” you reached for the blanket on your couch to lay over her.

“Y/n/n,” she grabbed your wrist, “you look like you need sleep,” she wasn’t wrong, you hadn’t slept for more than four hours after the first missed call of hers. You thought you’d covered it up fairly well, but if anyone could tell, it was her.

“I’m fine, you can sleep in my bed if the couch is uncomfortable, but really, get some rest.” You called Hotch, who was in the office, and faxed him copies of Hailee’s medical records, telling him it was an emergency and you needed him to contact the police in Hailee’s county and arrest her husband. He was arrested that day, and pleaded guilty after more and more women started to stand up. 

You were thankful Hailee came to you, but since then, you still hadn’t gotten a full night of sleep. Even after he was put in prison, even after everything was settled with your parents, even though you knew Hailee was in bed safe, you still felt off. The nightmares faded, but the bad sleeping habits stayed. And you had no idea why. You’d tried everything, herbal remedies, meditation, ice baths, etc, but none of it worked. 

You got in the shower, got dressed, and made yourself breakfast, jamming out to music to try to improve your mood before getting on your way. You arrived at work at 7:00, usually arriving at 7:15, you were hyper-organized, so you always liked to have the case out and ready at 7:20, giving you ten minutes to prep in your head. Since you were early, you turned on your favorite audiobook and closed your eyes for a couple seconds, taking in the calm before going to look at dead bodies. You opened your eyes after a couple minutes, your body realizing you fell asleep. You checked the clock in your car. Shit. It was 7:25. You grabbed your bag and walked into the building, grabbing the file off of your desk and walking as fast as you could into the conference room. Derek and JJ were already sitting in the conference room chatting amongst themselves. You walked in and rapidly started pinning pictures up to the board, you already knew the case, but needed to have everything ready to present.

“Derek I can’t reach that thumbtack can you grab it.” It was barely out of your reach, 

“Wow Y/n, no ‘good morning my sweet Derek, how are you on this fine day”?” He was right, you weren’t exactly your chipper self this morning.

“You don’t wanna fuck with me right now Morgan,” you turned to glare at him, earning a laugh from JJ. 

“Damn, okay, put those daggers away, I’ll grab the thumbtack...,” Derek handed you the thumbtack and you pinned up your final picture. You closed your eyes and started to go over what you were going to say in your head. You could feel JJ and Derek judging you, now joined by Emily who walked in while your eyes were closed, “A single word and I will hurt all of you, slowly but effectively.” Spencer walked in the room tapping your shoulder and slightly startling you, causing you to jump. He put one hand on your shoulder causing heat to rise to your cheeks. Spencer was your best friend, your adorable, undateable, best friend. You could practically feel JJ giving you a look, you were so undeniably lucky Spencer wasn’t exactly the best at social cues and wasn’t always trying to profile you, because you were the absolute worst at hiding your innocent little crush. 

“Woah...I just brought you coffee, I saw your mug was still in the cabinet and assumed you didn’t arrive here at your usual 7:15,” he handed you a cup of coffee, and you took a deep breath.

“Spencer Reid, you are my knight in shining amour,” Spencer smiled and you sipped your coffee, thankful he knew just how you liked it. 

“What do we have?” Hotch walked in and you went into formation. 

“Three dead in Seattle,” you pointed to the board, reading through their names and ages.

“They’re all the same age, but there’s no specific type here?” JJ asked.

“Yes, about that, their...um...” you swallowed, tripping over your words just a little, “ring fingers are all cut off.”

“Do we know what with?” Emily motioned for the picture and you handed her one of the extra copies.

“M.E. said they’d contact us when we arrive.”

“Alright, wheels up in 30,” everyone head out of the conference room while you took a second to clean up your files. You sat down in one of the empty seats, drinking your coffee and taking a deep breath before heading back out into the bullpen. You sat at your desk and pulled out Pride and Prejudice, deciding to reread it for the fourth time this month. You starting sucking on your lower lip, feeling tears start to well up in your eyes, you body was on override from lack of sleep, and being off schedule was putting you over the edge. It had never been an issue before, but at the moment, you just wanted time to not look at dead bodies, but you didn’t feel like that plane ride to Washington was gonna be long enough. You took a deep breath, knowing you could stop yourself from crying if you tried hard enough. You felt that familiar hand on your shoulder.

“Come with me I wanna show you something,” Spencer lightly pulled your shoulder.

“Spence,” you looked up at him, something was off, “I’m reading,” you smiled at him with furrowed eyebrows, motion to your book. Spencer grabbed the book out of your hand and scrolled through the pages.

“I will literally recite the first ten pages for you later,” he raised his eyebrows at you and you caved, he was lucky he was your one weakness.

“Okay, okay fine, will you at least tell me where we’re going?” You walked with him only to end up in an empty office. An agent had transferred last week leaving an empty office in the back hallway. Spencer pulled you in and closed the blinds, “Am I being held hostage?” you joked, not getting a laugh in response.

“What’s going on with you?” Shit.

“Nothing’s going on with me?” You were good, really good, at masking emotion, even for a team of profilers, but apparently you weren’t good enough today. 

“Y/n...” you stared at him, standing your guard, “Okay fine, you’ve started doing that foot-tapping thing again, you forgot your coffee this morning, and you’re blinking more rapidly than average, which means you’re either dehydrated or trying to stop yourself from crying,” you felt your eyes start to water again, “and you're probably the most well-hydrated person I’ve ever met, so what’s going on?” When you didn’t respond with words, but a sniffle and a tear, Spencer wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you up against him. You knew he did this because studies showed skin to skin contact was the easiest way to calm any negative emotion, but your heart still stopped beating for a second as your wrapped your hands around his neck, “I-I didn’t mean to make you cry, I just wanted to know if I could help,” he whispered, as if talking too loud would only make you more upset. Once you calmed down a little, you pulled away, “Do you want to talk about it?” You shook your head, you didn’t really have anything to talk about, you were just so tired. 

“Sorry,” you wiped the leftover tears from your face, “I’m just having a bad day, didn’t sleep much last night,” you hadn’t slept much in more than just last night, but you didn’t feel like worrying anyone right now.  

“It’s okay,” his voice was still gentle. 

“Do I have streaks on my face?” He shook his head, “We should probably go to the jet.” You motioned to the door.

“We have 17 minutes if you need another second...”

“Nope, I am all good, but thank you, seriously Spence,” you reached for his hand and squeezed it, “thank you,” you speed walked back into the bullpen, putting on your best smile. When you got on the jet, Spencer sat across from you. You played chess most of the flight while debating over movies with Emily. 

The case went by extremely quick, considering the fact that the Unsub’s maid found a box of fingers with wedding rings on them in the Unsub’s closet. You only had to hold one press conference to get someone to come forward, which was lovely because all you wanted to do was get home.

“Bad news,” Hotch walked into the room you and Emily were sitting in the Police Office, “Jet can’t come in until sunrise, they’re expecting a big storm,” you threw your head back, damnit, “I was able to get four rooms at the hotel, so double up. Oh and Y/n, good work on the press conference, if it wasn’t for you, we’d probably be stuck here a couple more days,” you smiled. A couple seconds later Spencer popped his head into the room.

“Penelope called Morgan, and JJ’s got Emily, so that leaves you and me,” of course it did. 

“Sounds good,” you smiled, feeling Emily’s eyes on you as he turned around and left. 

“Wow, complimented by Hotch and getting a night alone with Spencer, it’s like all your dreams are coming true at once,” you playfully slapped her arm. 

When you got back to your hotel you all split off into your rooms. You argued with Spencer over who got to use the bathroom first, but you eventually won. Won meaning you got to the bathroom before him. You put on a sports bra and shorts, following it up with a loose tee-shirt when you remembered you were sharing a room with Spencer and not Emily and JJ per usual. Usually Penelope didn’t come on trips unless necessary, which in this case she was, so instead of the usual three rooms, Hotch got four. You washed your face with cold water hoping the internet was right and it would help you fall asleep.

“Don’t use up all the hot water,” Spencer yelled in from the bedroom.

“I take morning showers,” you opened the bathroom door and reentered the bedroom.

“Good, Derek takes forty-five minute showers.”

“Yeah, that sounds about right,” Spencer took a pretty quick shower, and you rested yourself in the queen-sized bed, grabbing your copy of Pride and Prejudice and returning to your page. You were pretty into the story when Spencer came back in.

“So...I can take the floor,” you’d totally forgotten once again that these was not your usual sleeping conditions, but you still trusted Spencer enough to share a bed with him, you’d fallen asleep next to him on the couch in his apartment on multiple movie nights, how is that any different?

“Spence, how long have we known each other?”

“209 days,” you giggled, expecting a much less specific answer.

“Okay then I’d assume our 209 day friendship is enough to allow us to share a bed together without it being weird?” You marked your page and closed your book.

“Are you sure you’re comfortable with that?” 

“You are quite the gentleman, but yes, I swear. Unless you snore like Emily, then I might kick you out of the room completely,” you pointed finger guns at him. He laughed and laid on the opposite side of the bed, grabbing a book of his own. He finished his book in a couple minutes, closing it and grabbing a manual from the desk. 

“I know you are not about to read that microwave manual.”

“What? It’s interesting,” he looked so cute perusing through all of the different manuals spread out on the hotel desk.

“That is a bad, bad idea,” you closed your book shut, “actually, we should both probably try to get some sleep,” you were exhausted, and while you knew you weren’t going to get much sleep, you still wanted darkness and quiet to revel in. He shut off the lights and pulled the covers over his head, whispering a goodnight to you before drifting off into sleep. You were about two hours into your nightly routine of staring at the ceiling when Spencer’s voice brought you back into reality.

“Why aren’t you sleeping?” He muttered, you glanced over at him to see his eyes were still closed and decided to pretend you were asleep, “Y/n, I know the length of space between breaths when a human is sleeping, therefore, I know you’re awake.” You turned your head to face him.

“You got me,” you yawned. He sat up against the headboard of the bed, and you did the same.

“You wanna tell me what’s going on now?” You continued to stare at the wall in front of the bed, but you could feel his eyes on you.

“I haven’t been sleeping for a while,” you leaned your head back against the wood.

“I thought that got better?”

“I’ve been trying, but I can’t sleep for more than thirty minutes at a time, I haven’t been able to since Hailee went missing. I thought it would fix itself when I found out she was fine, but nope.” 

“You...” he reached out to poke your leg, making you giggle, “should’ve told me sooner, I am very well versed on ways to help sleep.”

“Spence, I’ve literally done everything, it’s hopeless,” you laughed, “but I might take you up on your offer to recite those Pride and Prejudice pages for me.”

“That’ll be our last resort. Have you tried eating bananas, they contain-”

“Tryptophan. Yeah I only drank warm milk and ate bananas and cherries for three days straight, nothing, but is it possible to become lactose intolerant from drinking too much milk?”

“There are many studies on why raw milk doesn’t cause lactose intolerance, but for legal reasons, not much has been studied about processed milk and how the differences relate to lactose intolerance, but really to answer your question, lactose intolerance is caused because of the enzyme lactase which splits the-,” he stopped once he heard your giggling, “...and you were kidding. Y/n, I am trying to help here, what about herbal teas?”

“Tried, didn’t work.”

“Um...meditation?” You nodded, “What about lowering your apartment temperature?”

“I literally can only sleep in the cold,” he was about to interrupt but you already knew what was coming, “...and I already tried the opposite, raising the temperature, which sucked by the way.”

“This might sound a little strange, but what are the colors of your bedroom wall?”

“I already looked into the impact of cool versus warm colors on sleep, my walls are white and I have blue curtains, my lights are led, so they aren’t yellow, and I don’t use any electronics for an hour before I get in bed,”

“Then it’s not physical, it’s mental, you know talking about what’s bothering you helps. Compartmentalizing really doesn’t.” 

“I haven’t been compartmentalizing though, I’ve even been journaling and stuff, even though I absolutely hate it.”

“Hmm,” he went quiet for a second, you opened your mouth to ask and he stopped you, “I’m thinking...,” it was like a lightbulb turned on over his head, “I got it what about-” He stopped.

“What?”

“It’s just...”

“What? Spencer? I’d literally try anything at this point.”

“Serotonin.”

“We’re not all super geniuses, please don’t make me ask,” you pleaded. 

“Serotonin’s a monoamine neurotransmitter...um it’s a large contributer to feelings of well-being and happiness, but a study I read last week actually talked about how involved it is in the regulation of sleep...um it has sort of a calming effect when activated,” sounded like pure bliss to you. 

“And how do I activate it?”

“Yes that’s the um...” he looked over at you before continuing his explanation, “...so the most effective way is through deep touch pressure, which is a form of tactile sensory input. It’s mostly provided by firm holding, firm stroking, hugging, and cuddling.”

“Oh,” it clicked in your head. 

“It’s actually really interesting, if you think back to the times you’re most relaxed, or just times that are coined as relaxing in general. Spas have done really well with this in general, with the hot stone massages especially, the heat combined with the cool temperature of the spa, mixed with the weight of the stones, it mimics a beach so well, which also is coined for relaxation considering how the heat acts as a blanket in some pretenses. Being in your mother’s arms, cuddling with a significant other, all good examples of serotonin, which is why weighted blankets are so popular now, they mimic the feeling of being held, they mimic that deep touch pressure...,” you let him ramble on about weighted blankets while you thought about what he was actually talking about. You’d been thinking about the events that would occur if you and Spencer shared a bed for a night, and while you might’ve thought of more explicit things than cuddling, the thought of anything more than a hug with him made your heart race, “Are you still listening?”

“Sorry, I got,” you cleared your throat, “distracted.”

“Sorry I didn’t mean to-”

“No it’s okay, it’s a good idea,” you stammered, wanting to slap yourself. You sounded way too excited, which you were, but that excitement was coated with nerves. It was silent for a minute before Spencer spoke up again.

“When Hailee first went missing, it had only been three days, so I asked you how you knew something was wrong, and you said you just knew. It’s like with baby cheetahs, baby cheetahs always know when there’s something wrong with their older siblings because they are their protectors, it’s their instinct, just like yours,” He turned to look into your eyes, and brought his voice down into a whisper, “You told me a story about how when you were younger and you’d get nightmares, instead of running into your mother’s room, which is the natural instinct, you’d run into Hailee’s room and she’d hold you instead. When I asked why, you said it was because she was a room closer, but I think it really was because of your independence. No matter how independent you were, you still needed someone, and no matter how independent you are now, you still crave that serotonin, you crave that physical touch. You’re human. It’s just like earlier today, I didn’t want to bring it up because I’m sure you feel embarrassed about crying during work, but it’s completely normal. We aren’t sociopaths like these people we go after, we have empathy, and it’s part of the reason we’re so good at our jobs. No matter how many gruesome cases we see, we aren’t robots, so we all sometimes just need a moment to break down and compose ourselves in an emotional release, it’s just another human necessity. It’s science. And you can replicate it with a weighted blanket when you’re alone, but when you get the opportunity, you really just need more physical touch, that’s all,” he reached over to rub your shoulder, and a tear fell onto your check.

“You’re right,” you sniffled.

“Oh no,” he chuckled, wiping your cheek with his thumb, “I made you cry again.” 

“No,” you placed your hand on top of his on your face, “you’re just the sweetest person I’ve ever met.” He didn’t respond, just opened his arms, nodding with his head for you to come closer. You scooted over and nestled your head into his chest. He pulled you into him, wrapping his arms around you and squeezing you tight. His hand slowly made its way to your lower back, peeking under your tee-shirt to draw light circles on your bare skin. You were close to falling asleep when you felt warm lips touch your forehead, causing you to immediately snap back. 

“Sorry,” he whispered. He must’ve felt you stiffen in his arms. You tilted your head back and looked up at him, placing your hand on his jawline as you connected your lips with his, softly and slowly. You were hesitant, knowing part of your action was based off of exhaustion, but you were just sick of having to look at his lips everyday and long for them to be on yours without doing anything about it. 

“Goodnight Spencer,” you pulled away quickly, returning you head to its spot on your chest.

“Goodnight Y/n,” he whispered back a minute later, and his hand resumed his circular motion, lulling you to a full night of sleep for the first night in many, many days.

You woke up a little lower on the bed then you were when you fell asleep, and your position changed. Spencer was laying on his back, and you were on your side, one of his arms under your waist and resting on your stomach. You were facing the alarm clock and gasped when you saw the time. You sat up out of Spencer’s arm, completely dumbfounded. It was 6:00AM, and the last time you checked the clock it was 11:00, you hadn’t woken up once. You started to get up when you were pulled back  onto the bed.

“Spencer it’s 6:00,” you whisper yelled, “I just slept for seven full hours.”

“Mmm, think you can sleep for one more,”he turned onto his side so your back was now pressed into his chest.

“Seven hours, wow, and it’s all thanks to this incredible guy I know. He’s like a super-genius who taught me the wonderful benefits of the magical enzyme called ‘serotonin’, have you heard of it?”

“He sounds like a great guy,” he grumbled into your neck, “I’m so very happy for you,” he pressed his lips to your neck, giving you goosebumps and reminding you of your impulsive decision from the night before, “but shhh.” It had been decided, groggy Spencer was your new favorite Spencer.

“Spence...” you had to talk about this. If you didn’t, the whole team would be able to read you the second you got on the jet. 

“No. Sleep.”

“Spencer...” 

“Okay, I’ve officially been awoken from my peaceful slumber,” you wiggled so you were now facing him.

“Hi,” you whispered. His eyes opened slowly and he smiled at you, “you have very pretty eyes, they’re like honey.” 

“You’re nice when you’re sleepy,” his hands shifted again to your lower back, drifting under your shirt to stroke your skin once again. 

“I’m nice all the time,” you pouted.

“You were extra nice last night,” turns out groggy Spencer and confident Spencer were the same person, you rotated your body so you weren’t facing him, “How long?”

“How long what?”

“How long have you felt this way about me?” This was not a good question for you.

“How many days did you say we’ve known each other?”

“210 counting today.”

“Then 210 days,” you sighed out, you’d liked him since the first day you’d met, it wasn’t love at first sight or anything, but from your first conversation, he’d been giving you butterflies, “I’m really sorry if I ruined things between us.”

“You’re kidding right?” You leaned up, and furrowed your eyebrows at him, “I just thought you didn’t feel that way. If I knew, I would’ve done something about it, or I would’ve gotten weirdly distant until you forced me to tell you what was wrong,” he smiled and your heart melted.

“What’re we gonna do about the team?”

“Derek’s gonna be relentless,” he sighed out and you giggled, “but we’ll figure it out, just not right now, because I’m cold, and I want your body heat.” He pulled you back into him.

“I have to shower,” you mumbled.

“You smell fine,” you gave him a look, “okay, okay, go.” He released you from his tight hold, not before you gave him a quick kiss, and you ran to the bathroom. You took a quick shower, then put on your makeup and got dressed. You both decided to eat on the plane instead of charging the bureau for room service. When you arrived on the plane you said quick hellos to the team and took a seat right across from Derek. You didn’t say anything when you sat down, you just opened your book. You looked up to see Derek’s eyes shifting back and forth between you and Spencer, who was playing chess with Rossi a couple seats away.

“Y/f/n Y/m/n Y/l/n,” you looked up from your book, “Did you get laid last night?” 

“Oh my god Derek! I spent the night with Spencer,” you shut your book closed fast.

“This is the first time I’ve seen you look genuinely relaxed in over a month,” he whispered at you, “did you spend the night with pretty boy over there or did you spend the night with him? Because you didn’t hear this from me, but pretty boy’s got it bad for you.”

“Oh really?” He was right, pretty boy did in fact have it bad for you.

—

I was just really in the mood for some more Spencer fluff, if you liked this please check out Making A Move, it’s a lot shorter, but still cute. 

Here’s my masterlist

 Love you all!!!!!

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer x reader #spencer reid smut #spencer reid fic #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fluff #spencer imagine #spencer fic #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds spencer #criminal minds #criminal minds fic

[oikawaplssteponme]

sweet creature

pairing: Hajime Iwaizumi x fem! reader

warnings: swearing, a little bit suggestive

genre: fluff, childhood friends to lovers, soulmates (?)

word count: ~2k

synopsis: Tying the tie between you and him took longer than it should have.

a/n: hi hi! here is some well over due fluff for you all!! this isn’t directly based off of the song ‘sweet creature’ but i felt it fit the vibes and since the song makes a little appearance ;) [ also shoutout to the anon who wanted some iwaizumi fluff <3 ] reblogs are greatly appreciated! enjoy xx

Looking back at it all, you never expected things to turn out the way they did. You never expected to find yourself in love with him. It was cliche, cheesy even. Everyone around you saw it before you did, saying you two were soulmates. In reality you were just clueless kids, unable to see that the universe had put you together perfectly. You needed him, no matter what form of him. He was your best friend after all, and a platonic soulmate was still good enough in your eyes.

But no, you were destined for something more.

Iwaizumi Hajime and you were two peas in a pod. From elementary school to now, you and him were inseparable. Scraping your knees together, attending everyone of his volleyball matches, you were always by each other’s side. It was no wonder why people assumed you were dating. Iwaizumi’s face would flush pink every time, insisting that the two of you were just really close friends. You would whisper in agreement, every time.

Was it wrong of you to want to be more?

It was the last week of high school, graduation just days away. You were over at Iwaizumi’s house as usual. You laid on his bed as he rummaged through his closet.

“Did you figure out what you are wearing for graduation?” he asked. You looked up from your phone.

“I think just a dress? I have two to pick from that I bought,” you explained.

“Okay, what colors are they?”

“One is blue and the other is white. Why?”

“I thought I could match my tie to your dress,” he said. Your eyes widened.

“Oh, o-okay.”

Iwaizumi grabbed a few button downs from his closet and laid them down on his bed, followed by the ties he owned.

“Help me pick.” You moved to the edge of the bed, scanning the clothes.

“I like the blue tie with the light grey shirt. You’d look like a waiter if you wore the black shirt and white tie,” you chuckled. Hajime huffed.

“Alright alright.”

Iwa grabbed his t-shirt and pulled it over his head. Your eyes darted to the floor.

“Uh what are you doing?”

“I’m gonna try it on dummy. I have to make sure it actually looks good,” he laughed. You looked back up at him. His perfectly chiseled figure standing before you as he tried to button up the shirt. You prayed that he couldn’t see that you were terribly flustered.

“These damn ties…” Iwaizumi groaned as he attempted to tie it. You chuckled.

“Come here.”

You hopped off the bed and stood close to Iwa, helping fix his tie.

“What are you gonna do when you go to college and I’m not gonna be there to tie your ties?” you smiled.

“I’ll call you and force you to come over and tie it for me.”

“I’ve been tying your ties since we were kids. I thought you would’ve learned by now.”

“Why would I bother learning when you can do it for me?” he teased. You chuckled.

“There, perfect.” You flatted the tie down, smiling.

“Thanks Y/N.”

You tilted your head back up, locking eyes with Hajime. You could stare into his eyes for hours, no issue. He chuckled.

“What are you staring at, huh?” Your face grew hot and you turned back around.

“Nothing…”

As the night drew on, you found yourself back at your place. Even though Iwa was just a house away, you wished you were still with him. You peaked out your window, hoping to see Iwa looking out of his. His curtains were open but the lights were off. You assumed that he was with Oikawa.

You looked at the calendar pinned to your wall. Two days of high school left. It was a strange feeling. The mix of anticipation and nervousness all into one. You were excited for summer. Day in and day out you could be spending time with Iwaizumi, just like every summer before. Of course, you’d much rather spend summer with him a little differently, but you knew that was unlikely.

You heard the familiar buzz of your cell phone, as the ringtone began to play. Your face lit up, as you recognized the noise. Only one person in your phone had this ringtone.

“Hello?”

“Window-”

The call ended quickly. You smiled, rushing to your window and opening it up.

“HI Y/N!” shouted Oikawa. You chuckled.

“How was studying?” you asked. Iwa sighed.

“This idiot barely finished his chemistry. He was busy blabbing about his graduation party.”

“I expect you to be there Y/N!”

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world. It’s this Saturday right?”

“Yeah, I didn’t want to have mine on the same day as yours and Iwa-chan’s,” explained Oikawa.

“Good choice,” teased Hajime. You and Iwa decided to do a small party for graduation together. Just family and close friends.

“Hey show me your dress,” insisted Iwaizumi. You grinned, heading to your closet and picking it out. Due to Iwaizumi’s blue tie, you decided to go with the blue dress.

“Woah there Y/N, you’re gonna take Iwa-chan’s breath away-”

“SHUT IT SHIT HEAD-,” Iwa smacked Oikawa upside the head, “don’t you have to go home?”

Oikawa checked his watch, before scrambling to get his things.

“Shit my mom’s gonna kill me- BYE!”

You chuckled, looking back at Iwaizumi. He cleared his throat.

“You’re gonna look beautiful Y/N.”

You tried to hold back your smile, but the heat rising in your face made it nearly impossible.

“Thank you.”

“I mean, you always are beautiful, but that dress might just set a new record for you,” he smirked. You pressed your lips together.

“Iwa…”

“Well we should both get some sleep,” he said. You nodded.

“Yeah, you’re probably right.”

“Goodnight Y/N.”

“Goodnight Hajime.”

You closed your window, then your curtains. You placed your dress back on a hanger, before plopping onto your bed. You felt all giddy inside, like a little kid. The butterflies in your stomach could fill an entire room. Did he mean those words in a ‘best friend’ sort of way? He had to, right? In all honesty you didn’t care about the context. After all, he still said it. Your smile was the same regardless.

~

“Smile you two!”

Iwaizumi’s mother had been taking pictures for the last thirty minutes, and you were honestly getting a little exhausted from posing.

“Mom that's enough-”

“One more! Hajime, stand behind Y/N.”

Iwa sighed. He did as he was told, moving behind you. He placed his large hands onto your waist, hugging you from behind. You tried not to react, still smiling at the camera.

“Okay okay now look at each other.”

You looked at Iwa, staring into those deep dark eyes. His face was so close to yours, you could smell the mint he had earlier.

“I’m sorry about this,” he mumbled. You giggled.

“It's okay.”

“Alright I got all the pictures I need.”

You keep looking at him, but more relaxed. Iwa didn’t move a muscle, as if he didn’t wish to let go of you. You weren’t sure if it was your imagination or not, but you swore that Iwa looked as if he was leaning in to-

“ALRIGHTY LETS GO! Grad party time!” cheered Oikawa. You and Iwa broke away from each other. You cupped your burning face as he cleared his throat.

“Y-Yeah lets go.”

You all headed to the Iwaizumi residence. There, you opened graduation gifts, jokes with friends, and even reminisced a bit on yours and Hajime’s childhood.

“I remember when you would make me catch bugs with you all the time! I hated doing that,” you joked.

“Okay but I always let the bugs go, didn’t I?”

“Aw Iwa-chan can’t hurt a fly-”

“But I can hurt you-”

“WAIT-”

You watched as Iwa and Oikawa fought as if they were kids before going to grab something to drink.

The night escalated to Toru finding the old karaoke machine and challenging Makki to a sing-off (which he declined). You sat on the couch with Iwa as the commotion in the room elevated.

“Do you want to go upstairs?” he asked you. You let out a sigh of relief and nodded.

Hajime opened the door to his room, allowing you inside. He shut it, helping to keep things quieter.

“Wait a minute-”

You rushed over to the corner of his room.

“You can play the guitar?”

You picked up the instrument and examined it carefully. The guitar didn’t look new. In fact, it had to be a few years old.

Iwa took the guitar from your hands, holding it to his chest as his face grew in color.

“I-I can’t really play…”

“I have known you my entire life yet I never knew you had a guitar. Guess I’m a pretty shitty friend.”

“No not at all. I just- I don’t tell people that I can play…” he mumbled. You smiled, taking a step towards him.

“Could you play something for me? I won’t tell.”

Iwa looked at you, his eyes widened. He swallowed harshly.

“Of course.”

The two of you sat down on his bed. Hajime began to tune the guitar, his hands a little shaky. You placed your hand on his cheek. He looked at you intently.

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to. I kinda put you on the spot there…”

“No I want to...I have a song in mind that I’ve been meaning to play for you.”

You smiled, nodding. You took your hand away, placing it back in your lap. Iwa took a deep breath, before carefullying picking at the strings.

He played a calming melody, one that you’ve heard before. Your heart melted the minute you realized what song he played.

“Sweet creature...had another talk about where it's going wrong…”

His voice was low and quiet, yet smooth and soft. You tried to hold back a smile and a few tears.

“I know when we started, just two hearts in one home…”

He sang to you. He was playing for you. Pleading that you understood what he was trying to say. Everyone fights, everyone has disagreements, it’s normal in every relationship. It was as if the letters of the lyrics were rearranged to say: “lets just try”.

You two would be leaving for university soon, that was inevitable. However, Iwaizumi never felt happier than when he was by your side.

“When I run out of road, you bring me home.”

Hajime played the final cord, before falling silent.

“Haj-”

“I know how to tie my ties. I just say I don’t so that you’ll do it for me. So that you’ll stand a little closer to me. So that I can smell the same perfume that you’ve worn since middle school. So that I can look into your eyes, and see the world within them. I’ve known how to tie my own ties since I was eight years old, but that's also the same age that I realized that I was in love with you.”

You couldn't seem to find the words. Your mouth hung open a bit, causing Iwa to get even more nervous. He set the guitar down on the floor, before burying his hands in his face.

“God I’m such an idiot-”

You took Iwaizumi’s hands and moved them from his face.

“Look Y/N I-”

He was unable to finish his sentence, as you had crashed your lips into his. His eyes were wide before he shut them tightly, cupping your face and kissing you hungrily. You wrapped your arms around his neck, running your fingers through is dark hair. Iwa couldn’t seem to get enough, bringing you impossibly closer to him as he deepened the kiss.

“Hajime…” you whispered, catching your breath. Iwa placed another peck on your lips.

“Yeah?”

“I love you.”

You were shaking, the familiar sensation of nervousness and anticipation rushed through your veins. Iwaizumi took your hand, placing a kiss on top of it.

“I love you.”

Looking back at it all, you should’ve known it was bound to happen. Maybe it was the fear of rejection that blinded you from the truth. Maybe you had to hear that it might not always be easy in order to realize that it was still worth it. It certainly was worth the risk. Love is the strongest adhesive, keeping people together no matter distance, disagreements, or destiny. Luck for you and Hajime, your destiny was the one you had always hoped for.

[general taglist: @lealofsblog @iwaisa @bakugousmymassa @evivn1 @bokutory @vangoghmusings @moonlightaangel @misszenin @marajillana @sopesmin @alaina-rose13 @shotoful @katlingclaw ]

#willow.🌸 #hqcorenet #haikyuu!! #haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #hq #haikyuu x y/n #iwaizumi hq #iwaizumi x reader #haikyuu iwaizumi #iwaizumi hajime #hajime iwaizumi #iwaizumi oneshot #iwaizumi scenarios #iwaizumi x you #iwaizumi fluff #iwaizumi x y/n #hajime iwaizumi x you #hajime iwaizumi x reader #Haikyuu fic #haikyuu one shot

[descendantofthesparrow]

Encore - POYW - Harry Hook x reader - Part 24 - Sisters

=

you and Harry woke up to loud knocks on Harry's room door, you had decided to stay the night at the ship since your room was just so damn warm and Harry's room was nice and cool. You glanced at the clock on Harry's wall and sighed, it seemed you had slept in a bit as the clock read 12:30 pm.

Harry sighed and sat up, standing from the bed and walking over to his door, creaking it open and yelping as he was pushed back by a blonde and red blur “Hi CJ” Harry grunted out, CJ laughing as she pushed off of him and skipped over to you, Harriet entering the room a moment later “Harriet, what do yeh want?”

“We’re stealing your fiancé, (y/n) get dressed, CJ keep Harry down” CJ leaped over your body and slammed down onto Harry, trapping him to the mattress.

“Oi!” Harry snapped, ripping his arm out of CJ’s grip and pushing her face, glaring at Harriet as she walked over to you and pulled you out of the bed “No! She's mine! Leave ‘er alone!”

CJ and Harriet shared a dangerous smile and CJ pinned Harry to the bed again “Quick get her dressed so we can escape!” Harry let out a snarl as you quietly laughed, grabbing a red shirt and black jeans. Stepping into your bathroom to quickly get dressed, popping your head back out to grab a bra and socks.

You sluggishly got dressed and stepped back out to the bedroom to put your shoes on, laughing again as Harriet and CJ held Harry down to the floor, CJ sitting on his back and arms as Harriet held down his legs.

“Okay okay, don’t kill him, he is a good pillow, and I’d rather not lose the warmth” Harry pouted at you as his sisters snickered and got off him.

“Oh, no ‘oh please don’t kill Harry, I love him’ or ‘please don’t kill Harry, I'd rather not lose him’ no all I get is ‘I’m a good pillow’? really?” you let out a quiet laugh and finished zipping up your boots, leaning down to kiss Harry's cheek and ruffling his hair.

“Yep, and I’ll be back later, bye!” CJ dragged you out of the room, Harriet closing the door behind her as Harry continued to pout.

-

A few hours later, you sat outside an ice cream parlor, spooning (fav ice cream) into your mouth as CJ sipped at her chocolate and mint shake with Oreos. Harriet walked out of the shop with her fresh waffle cone strawberry cheesecake and sat down next to you, licking her lips slightly.

“You’re welcome” you chuckled, smiling teasingly as Harriet glared at you before she stuck a spoon into the ice cream and shoved it in her mouth, CJ continuing to enjoy her shake. “So other than the reason you gave earlier” that being them just wanting to hang out because they hardly got to hang out with you “Why did you want to hang out with me today?”

“We have to pick up my suit and CJ’s dress from the tailor, thought you might want to see ‘em or something” Harriet muttered, keeping her eyes on her ice cream.

You hummed and nodded, you would like to see them, to make sure they worked with what you had planned. “Sounds fun, what time is pick up?”

Harriet pulled out her phone “at two, it's one now so we got about an hour but the place is pretty far away from here, so-“ Harriet turned to you and raised her brow “-you mind driving us there, after we finish?”

You nodded, spooning the last of your ice cream in your mouth and tossing the cup into the trash “Sure”

-

You couldn’t help the grin on your face as CJ stepped out of the dressing room, she admired herself in the tall mirror, spinning around and her scarlet skirt flaring with her. Her black top was detailed with lace and was separated from her high waisted skirt that stopped just above her knees. “Look’s amazing CJ, I think we picked the perfect one for you” you hummed, laughing as CJ bounded over to you and slammed into your side as she sat next to you.

“I think this is the first time she's worn a dress and actually liked it” Harriet huffed, smirking at you and CJ as CJ discovered the pockets on her skirt. The tailor came out from the back, handing Harriet a maroon and black suit and gesturing to the dressing room.

The tailor gave you and CJ a smile and went back to the front to tend to her other customers. You and CJ talked about the wedding plans as Harriet changed, and a few minutes later Harriet emerged from the dressing room. her suit jacket was maroon and her dress shirt and pants were black. CJ wolf-whistled, standing and bounding over to her sister, grinning up at her “Wow Hettie, you look amazing!”

Harriet gave a shy smile and nodded, looking down at her jacket and pulling down the sleeves “Thanks, I think it turned out good” you grinned and that and stood, walking over to the girls and tugging at the lapels of Harriet's jacket.

“It turned out great, it's perfect…thank you, both of you. I know we don’t really interact much but thank you for trusting me with your brother, I know how protective you both are over him” Harriet and CJ smiled, Harriet pulling you in for a side hug as CJ wrapped her arms around your waist.

“Thank you for taking care of him, I never thought he’d find someone like you, but I’m glad he did. I can't wait to call you our sister” CJ nodded in agreement, and squeezed your waist, pulling back and walking to the dressing room to change back into her clothes.

“Let's go get something to eat! Im starving!” You and Harriet shared a look and shook your heads.

“That’s CJ for ya, always hungry” Harriet laughed, sitting down on the couch and waiting for CJ to be done changing so she could do the same.

“yep…Taco Bell sound good?”

“Hell yeah”

-

Harry started as a cold sensation pressed against his cheek and he quickly sat up, looking behind him to see you, smiling down at him and holding a cup filled with Pepsi “I got Taco Bell for you” Harry grinned and took the soda, drawing his legs in from the couch to let you sit down next to him and taking the paper bag from you as you handed it to him.

“Thank yeh love” Harry purred, taking out the cheese rolls and humming, he hadn’t eaten yet that day so he was very happy to finally have something in his belly.

“You’re welcome~” you sang back, taking (food) out of the bag and unwrapping it, biting down on it and turning to pay attention to the tv, where Harry had turned on Captain America; The First Avenger. “Good choice”

Harry just hummed around his food, pulling you into his side and the two of you settled down to watch the movie.

-

“hard ta believe we’re getting married in twenty days” Harry chuckled, helping you put away the washed dishes from dinner. You stopped, looking up at the calendar on the wall and laughing.

May 2nd, wow it really was only twenty days from today. “Well how bout that” you murmured, closing the dishwasher and starting it, walking over to Harry and wrapping your arms around him, setting your chin on his shoulder “Only twenty days till you’re mine forever” Harry laughed and turned in your grip, pressing a soft kiss to your lips and nose.

“Only twenty days till I can finally call yeh Mrs. Hook” Harry purred back, lifting you off your feet and spinning you around, setting you back down and pressing one last kiss to your nose. “I love yeh” Harry whispered, closing his eyes and pressing his forehead to yours.

“I love you too” you hummed back, kissing his jaw and slipping out of his arms, going over to the fridge grabbing two ice cream sandwiches, and tossing one to Harry, nodding towards the living room “one more movie?” Harry grinned and nodded, walking in and jumping over the couch, bouncing his leg as he waited for you.

“Oh, by the way,” Harry started, curling his arm around your shoulder as you sat next to him and curling into his side “All the invitations got sent out.” You perked up at that and swallowed down the bite of ice cream.

“Awesome! Did you keep one?“ Harry smirked and nodded, standing from the couch and walking into the kitchen, grabbing a card from the counter and walking back over to you, handing you the card and sitting down as you admired the invitation.

“I still love it, I think we picked a good design” Harry nodded in agreement, leaning over your shoulder slightly to look at the invitation.

The top was printed with watercolor waves at sunset, the bottom blocked with gold with white lettering detailing the date, time, and place of your wedding.

 “only twenty days” Harry hummed, picking up the remote and turning on another movie, curling his arm around your shoulder and pulling you into his side, smiling as you cuddled into him and rested your head in the crook of his neck. “twenty days” you echoed, raising your brow slightly as the movie began to play. “Hook?”

“aye…what it’s a good movie!”

-end of part 24-

Note; I was writing this on the 2nd so that’s why the fic says “twenty days” instead of nineteen

24 parts! Woow!!! And the next part will be on the 22nd! The wedding! After the wedding, this series will officially be finished and the OG part of your world will be over! 😊 thank you all so much for coming with me on this journey and sticking with me through my horrible 2018-2019 writing. Again I will be rewriting Part of your world and Reprise because I want to (and rewriting some parts of Encore because the first 10-15 parts are fucking awful) and I’ll be starting on it after I finish encore, but I probably won't start posting until Rewrite(AU) D3 is finished so im not working on a thousand stories at once.

So Part of your world 2.0 will be coming after Finale - Rewrite is concluded so I can focus solely on POYW 2.0 :3 again thank you all so much for reading and soon, Mr. and Mrs. Hook will soon be introduced~!!!

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@musicarose​ @verboetoperee​

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@rintheemolion​ @thecaptainsgingersnap​ 

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#Descendents #descendants #disney descendants #harry hook #harry hook descendants #harry hook x reader #harry hook imagine #encore #part of your world #reprise #wedding prep chapters

[jesuisgourde]

Mildly interesting things I own:

-a broken pocketwatch with two really pretty spots of wear on the face -the cover of a 100+ year old german bible -a ton of old vintage photographs, a dmv card from 1918, a brochure for the world’s fair from 1889, a bunch of old newspaper clippings etc, all acquired by not quite nefarious means from my old job -the components of a stained glass mobile that once belonged to my grandmother. she was part of an art exhibit and her poetry was printed and displayed along with this mobile. it includes orange sun-circles, blue waves, rectangles of green and clear glass, and two large white-and-mirror eyes. i haven’t put it together because i want some nice driftwood to attach it to. -a empty glass bottle with “knoxit” embossed on the side. apparently it was gonorrhea medication in the 1950s. -a globe which i bought from goodwill for ~50 cents and turned into a lamp -a heart-shaped pin made from abalone with the letter “p” on it in wire and a little red gem where the curves of the heart meet. i found it in a bowl of free trinkets on the street. -a jar of bent spoons -a jar of large dried up pieces of honeycomb taken from an abandoned beehive -a new york magazine from the 70′s with a main article about andy warhol and a smaller one about monty python’s new movie, holy grail -a small collection of letterpress blocks -a long robins egg blue wooden chest. i went to goodwill to buy an end table in 2017. there was no end table, but there was this chest and it spoke to me. it was $8. i never bought an end table -a working royal royalite typewriter -loads of old foreign stamps acquired from a local maker store -some pysanky eggs -a pair of porcelain hands i found in an alley in chicago -a pocket book (? i don’t know any other word for it) from 1923 by the nixon livestock commission company. the inside includes a 1923/24 calendar, an “identification” page to record your name, license plate, height and weight, etc, a “help in case of accident” page with handy tips if you get hurt or poisoned, a page on calculating interest, a bunch of pages about postage and mail, a few pages on the populations of various cities, space for addresses, a bunch of grid pages for notes, a page on anniversaries/holidays, etc. -a vintage wooden cigar box without a lid. i keep my packs of incense sticks in it. -a pair of old art deco-ish salt shakers that have oxidized a bit -a glass that was specifically made to look dimpled and bent out of shape, like it has a cramp and is bending over. it was given to me by a coworker who didn’t want it anymore. -a smallish turtle shell -a pair of old victorian-style wire sunglasses. i found them tangled in a dish rack full of dirty cups at my old job as a dishwasher. i have no idea how they got there.

#with the exception of the pocketwatch and the typewriter everything was free or under $30 #mostly free

[ugly-crying-over-bucky-barnes]

The Name Written on My Heart

Sequel to Name on a Coffee Cup  requested by Anon. Happy Valentines/Galentines Day my darlings! 

Modern!Tommy and Ava continue their relationship outside the cafe.

             After his first date with Ava, Tommy felt like his heart was slowly being restarted. After Grace passed, he assumed that the rest of his love would be given to Charlie. But even then, he felt like he was failing.

            Oftentimes his son would much rather go spend the day with his aunts or uncles or have playdates with friends. Polly assured him that it was natural for the young boy to want to be independent as he got older. But still, Tommy felt like he was always the second pick for Charlie and he was afraid it was because he just wasn’t enough for the boy. 

            When Ava began to spend time at Tommy’s flat, Charlie gravitated toward her like a magnet. Not that Tommy could blame him. She was much better at interacting with him. She wasn’t afraid to get down to his level to play and go along with his wild imagination. Still, Tommy was a bit dismayed he wasn’t the kind of father Charlie needed.

            Until he subconsciously took cues from Ava to relax a bit. He wasn’t as strict and felt like his relationship with Charlie was getting better and more natural.

~~~~~~~~~~

            On the other hand, Tommy was easing back into a serious relationship. There were a few roadblocks along the way. Around Halloween one year, Ava came over to carve pumpkins and bake some sugar cookies in the shape of bats and ghosts. Charlie had a ball and demanded that Monster Mash be played over and over again as he darted around the living room on a sugar high. When he finally crashed, Tommy carried him to bed before helping Ava clean up the mess in the kitchen.

            “It’s late.” She noted.

            “Yeah, I’ll drive you home. Don’t want you taking the tube this late.”

            “Oh.” Ava glanced by the door where she’d left her bag. The bag that she had packed a change of clothes and her toothbrush in. Her face went red as she realized how stupid it was that she thought it would be the first night she might sleepover.  

            Tommy read her expression and paused. They’d been dating for quite some time. Almost two years at that point. He was even beginning to think that maybe they would spend the rest of their lives together. He could certainly see it happening, even if it was a bit soon to know for sure. And yet, there was always that hesitation that he felt. The protectiveness he had for Charlie. The thought that Tommy didn’t deserve love. The fear that he would lose someone else that he cared so deeply about.

            “I understand, it’s alright,” Ava said as if she could read his mind.

            Tommy didn’t move for a moment. Half of him wanted her to stay, half of him wanted to just drive her home so he could be by himself. Something he thought he deserved. She was far too kind and forgiving for him. Far too sensible. Far too sweet. Far too understanding.

            “Stay.” The word came out before Tommy could realize what he’d said. “I want you to stay. You belong here…you’re perfect with Charlie and you get him better than I do. I know I don’t deserve you but I would do anything to have you here, even if it’s just for a night.”

            Ava hugged him close and kissed his cheek. “I think you’re selling yourself too short.” She murmured. “Charlie adores you and so do I.”

            Tommy took a deep breath and held her for a moment before she slipped away.

            “C’mon, let’s take care of this mess so we can go to bed.” She smiled at him.

~~~~~~~~~~

            It was what Tommy loved about her so much. She made having emotions so much easier. There was no big spectacle of it, she never called him out for feeling upset or depressed. She always knew exactly what to say.

            The next year, once Ava’s lease was up, she moved into Tommy’s flat. Charlie was overjoyed that he had there every day. And she meshed perfectly with their schedules. On the days that she was opening the café, she woke up early, around the same time Tommy did. They went about their morning routines and welcomed in Charlie’s nanny who would wake up the boy for school. When Ava worked later shifts, she took care of getting Charlie to school on time. It worked exceptionally well.

            Almost to a point where Tommy expected things to go wrong. Everything was going too well and he became very suspicious. About a year after Ava moved in, Tommy self-sabotaged.

~~~~~~~~~~~

            One night, Ava had gone out with friends from uni that she hadn’t seen in a while. Tommy was up late working at the flat when she came home. Although a little tipsy, she was coherent as she kissed his cheek and wrapped her arms around him from behind.

            “I take it you had fun then.” Tommy chuckled.

            “It really was. Of course, we didn’t close the pub like we did back in those days. My ex-boyfriend wanted to stay but we were all so tired.” She laughed softly.

            It set off a trigger inside Tommy. “Didn’t know your ex would be there.”

            “Our whole friend group was. We’ve been planning a little reunion like this for a while.” Ava didn’t immediately pick up on his icy tone.

            Tommy set down his pen and leaned back in his desk chair with his arms crossed over his chest. “Just something I thought you’d tell me.”

            “I didn’t think it would matter.” She frowned and withdrew her arms. “It doesn’t bother you, does it?”

            He didn’t answer, looking ahead at his laptop on a home screen.

            “Tommy, honestly.” Ava tried again to make him talk with no avail. “We dated years ago. I’ve been dating you longer than I’ve ever dated anyone else. You really think I’d throw that all away?”

            Tommy simply shrugged.

            She scoffed at his attempt to be blasé to the issue when she knew he was stewing inside. “You’re impossible.” With a huff, she stormed out of the room and went to the bedroom, locking the door behind her.

 ~~~~~~~~

            The next day was even worse. After spending the night on the couch, Tommy felt like an ass for what he’d done. Although it wasn’t an argument like they’d had before, it still cut deep. He had basically spelled out that he didn’t trust her. It wasn’t entirely true. Tommy trusted Ava because it was unlike her to be unfaithful. But he didn’t trust the world. He’d seen what could happen to good people. In his eyes, Ava had a target on her back because of her tendency to be so warm-hearted and vulnerable.

            That morning, Ava had left before Tommy could even get a word of apology in. She didn’t answer his texts throughout the day and it drove him insane. He had to settle for the breakroom coffee because he couldn’t gather up the courage to go down to the café and face Ava.

            The rest of the office picked up on the fact that he was in a sour mood. All but Arthur, who walked in whistling to himself.

            “So, what’ve you got planned for Valentine’s Day?” The eldest Shelby asked.

            Tommy looked up from his paperwork, then to the calendar on his desk. Indeed, Valentine’s Day was that weekend. He’d ordered a custom bracelet for Ava and had it hidden in his desk drawer. But other than that, he’d completely forgotten. “I’m not sure.” He mumbled. “I upset her last night.”

            Arthur sighed. “Tom, we’ve talked about this. You don’t think you deserve happiness so you ruin your own life. You can make it up to her. Just put on the ‘ol charm, aye?”

 ~~~~~~~~~~~` 

            Ava was giving Tommy the silent treatment for most of the week. He felt it was deserved and just prayed Arthur was right and that he could redeem himself.

            Come Sunday, Ava came home from work. She still felt hurt, especially since Tommy appeared to have forgotten it was even Valentine’s Day. But then Charlie rushed to the door.

            “Ava, Ava!” He was bouncing up and down. “C’mon!” He grabbed her hand and pulled her into the kitchen.

            Tommy was chopping up vegetables. He glanced up and smiled sheepishly.

            Ava looked a bit confused. “What’s all this?” There was an array of items all laid out on the counter. Balls of dough were resting on cutting boards next to little bowls of toppings.

            “I asked Charlie what we could do special for Valentine’s Day.”

            “And I wanted pizza!” The little boy piped up. “Look, he climbed up onto a stool and patted the dough.

            A small smile formed on Ava’s face. “Well, that looks fun.” She said and walked over.

            “Here, Charlie,” Tommy handed his son the rolling pin. “Try to flatten it, but not too thin.” Then he turned to Ava.

            “So, you were scheming today, huh?” She asked.

            “Av, I’m sorry.” He took her hands in his. “Whenever I have a good thing, I never think I deserve it. And you’re one of the best things I’ve ever had.”

            “I don’t want you pushing me away.” She replied quietly. “If you have an issue, tell me. I’m here to be your confidant.”

            Tommy nodded and took a deep breath. He kissed her softly.

            “Daddy, s’a square pizza!” Charlie exclaimed.

            The two pulled away and chuckled. Indeed, the little boy had rolled the dough out into a square.

            “I guess it’ll taste the same.” Ava smiled and went over to help him.

            Tommy lingered to the side a bit, watching her with Charlie. The two laughed as they made a mess with the sauce and cheese.

            This was a good thing. He would hold onto the good and keep it close to his heart. Everyone deserved love. Tommy was just thankful that he had Ava and Charlie.

            “Daddy, look,” Charlie called.

            Tommy chuckled when he saw a smiley face made of pepperoni on the pizza. “Why don’t you make it a heart? It’s Valentine’s Day.”

            His son made a face. “That’s yucky.”

            “Oh, Charles, you won’t be my Valentine?” Ava pouted.

            “No, gross. Girls are gross.”

            “Are they, then?” Tommy raised an eyebrow then went to give Ava a big dramatic kiss.

            “EW!” Charlie pulled his shirt over his head to hide his face.

            They laughed. “Alright, alright. I guess your dad will be my Valentine. And maybe we can add a nose to the smiley face.” Ava put another piece of pepperoni on the pizza. “Go on and add some peppers and onions. I’ve got to get your Valentine gifts.” She washed her hands and went down the hall.

            Tommy took the cue and grabbed Ava’s necklace from his briefcase.

            Ava returned with two wrapped gifts. “Charlie, love, this is from dad and me.” She gave him a box which he happily tore into to find an art supply kit.

            “Wow, cool! Thanks!” He beamed.

            Ava and Tommy exchanged gifts as well. He opened his to find a photograph of his newest racehorse with his name, Kingsman, carved into the silver frame.

            “To add to your collection.” She smiled knowing that Tommy kept a photo of all of his winning horses in his office.

            “I love it.” He remarked at the stunning picture of the pure black stallion.

            Ava didn’t answer. She had opened the jewelry box to find the silver necklace with a teardrop diamond pendant. She had never owned anything so beautiful before. “Tom…” Her eyes welled up with tears.

            “D’you like it?” He asked hesitantly.

            “Of course.” Her voice shook. “It’s gorgeous, thank you.” She touched his cheek and kissed him deeply.

            “Daddy, I don’t like mushrooms, I’m not putting mushrooms on the pizza.” Charlie interrupted them.

            “Alright, it was worth a shot.” Tommy sighed and went back over to the counter.

            “That looks very nice, Charlie.” Ava praised. “Why don’t we let dad put it in the oven and we can check out your new art supplies.”

            “Okay!” Charlie hopped down from the stool and carried the box to the kitchen table.

            Ava kissed Tommy’s cheek. “Happy Valentine’s Day.” She said softly.

//It felt so funny writing the tube. Like I feel like it’s some sort of slang that Americans think British people use but they don’t? In my city we call the subway the T. That’s also stupid but our subway lines are bastards who don’t deserve full names or loving nicknames. Fuck you T. 

Permanent Tag: @papa-geralt-of-cirilla @biba3434 @kimmietea @karmezii @enrapturedbythemoon @vampgirl1997 @tarafaithe @evelynshelby

PB Masterlist

#tommy shelby #tommy shelby fanfiction #tommy shelbyxoc #tommy shelbyxofc #peaky blinders fanfiction #peaky blinders #one shot #cillian murphy

[stereksecretsanta]

Merry Christmas, theydraggedmein!

For @theydraggedmein. I hope you like this story!

Fic inspired by Melsephant's Monster of the Week Comic, specifically Solidarity and by the freedom of creation from my Secret Santa giftee

Tags: Supernatural is somewhat known, Stiles is a Selkie, Alive Hales, Friends to Lovers, Quickburn, Workplace Setting, Light/Background Angst, Communication

Read On AO3

*****

Selkie Solidarity

Stiles’ alarm doesn’t go off when it’s supposed to and he wakes up about two hours late for work.

Thankfully, he has an understanding boss with even more understanding bosses, so when he calls in, they just tell him to get himself there safely and don’t worry about it.

Stiles hops in and out of the shower so fast his suit doesn’t even have time to dry before he stuffs his clothing into a waterproof bag, chucks his phone and wallet in too, and leaps off his balcony to do a perfect seal dive into the water below.

He makes good time swimming, but nothing changes the fact that he’s late and he and his office mate were supposed to be running expense reports all day today.The final step before the merge negotiations happening next week.Thankfully they got most of it done this past week, but still, Stiles feels bad about slacking when his office mate is such a good sport. Without him there, Derek’s probably gone a little grumpy around the edges, the way he always does whenever Stiles is inevitably late.

Stiles passes a delicatessen and backtracks. He’s already late, so a few minutes more isn’t a huge deal, and Derek does love everything bagels.

Stiles climbs out of the water, ducks behind some brush, and sheds his suit. He tugs on his clothes, checks his phone for messages—none—and grabs a twenty out of his wallet.

Then, bag slung across his back, he troops into the deli and orders three everything bagels, two for Derek and one for him because he hasn’t had breakfast yet.

Then, it’s an exchange of his clothes for his suit, making sure the bag with the bagels is secured in his bag, and then leaping back into the river to finish his commute.

He’s already apologizing when he races into his and Derek’s office.

“Dude, I know I’m so, so late, but, look, I got us bagels!”

He stops short at the sight of Derek, shifted into his full werewolf form, hunched over his computer and poking at his keyboard.

He looks miserable, his snout long and dripping with saliva where his teeth are too big to retract anymore. His claws keep catching on the keys and he stares at them sadly before huffing out a sigh and starting again.

Stiles digs out the bagels and plops the bag onto Derek’s desk. Comically, Derek’s nose twitches. He looks at Stiles with his baleful eyes before gently opening the top of the bag and with far more care than Stiles is used to seeing from Shifted-Derek, he plucks out a bagel and pops it whole into his mouth.

As Derek chews with the power of a ravenous wolf, Stiles glances at the little calendar Derek keeps pinned to his side of the office.

“Oh man,” Stiles remarks, tracing the outline of the day. “Full moon? That’s rough, buddy. I’m sorry.”

Derek shrugs and picks out his second bagel. “s’okay,” he mumbles, spraying saliva and crumbs everywhere. “T’nks for bagels.”

His over large teeth and flopping tongue make his words nearunintelligible and kind of fascinating. Stiles wishes Derek would talk more during his shifts, but he also knows that Derek doesn’t like making messes even though he’s good at cleaning them up, so he tries not to make messes. And talking with his shifted mouth is about the messiest Derek can be. Second only to eating while shifted.

Stiles takes his bagel and sits down to boot up his computer. Derek hasn’t eaten his second bagel, and instead seems to be waiting for Stiles to start eating his. A quick bite confirms this, and Stiles smiles at Derek.

“So, shall we get those expense reports done?”

No argument from Derek, who seems to be trying to savor his second bagel.

Whatever. It’s cute. That’s why Stiles got them for him. He likes doing things like that for Derek, even when he isn’t almost two and a half hours late.

After a few more minutes of Derek struggling to type with his claws, Stiles turns to him. “Should I shift too?” he asks, gently. Derek barely moves his head, but Stiles feels stared at all the same. “I mean, if you’re stuck in your form, wouldn’t it be less awkward for me to be shifted too?”

“Work?”

Stiles shrugs. “I was late today. How productive am I really going to be?”

Derek looks at his keyboard. It isn’t really functional, and he’ll probably just keep tapping at it and then replace it on Monday when he can shift back. “Broken?”

Stiles waves his hands. “They’re flippers, dude. I don’t think they can do that much damage.”

Derek tilts his head while he thinks about it. It’s such a cute pose that Stiles has to physically turn back to his computer and enter his password before he accidentally squees out loud or something equally embarrassing.

“Okay,” Derek finally says. “T’nks.”

“Be right back!” Stiles grabs his bag and skips off to the bathroom where he exchanges his clothes for his suit and then happily bounces back to his and Derek’s shared office.

Derek straightens for a few minutes when Stiles gets back. At first, he thinks it’s because Derek is laughing at him. Stiles isn’t the most graceful in his human form, but in his seal form, he’s simultaneously better and worse at moving. If the office were water, he’d be grand.

Derek huffs a few times before slowly stepping off his chair and motioning Stiles to his chair. And, whoops, yeah, Stiles forgot that he’d have to climb all the way up there.

He gives Derek a hopeful bark and Derek nods. Together, mostly because of Derek’s brute strength, they get Stiles situated in his chair and ready to do as much work as his flippers can manage on his keyboard.

Surprisingly, despite Derek’s general malaise of being a werewolf in the midst of an uncontrolled shift, and Stiles’ selkie solidarity, they get a lot of work done. And surprisingly, Derek just holds half of the second bagel in his mouth for a long time before it disintegrates into mush and he swallows it.

Their boss pokes his head and shoulders in around lunchtime, some request dying on his invisible lips.

Stiles gives him a happy bark, and Derek follows it up with a less-pained wuff than he’s been giving lately.

“I just wanted to see how those reports were coming along, but I guess never mind.” Kindly, he adds, “If you ever need time off something like this, just let us know. We have a secondary set of time off for supernatural afflictions.”

Derek growls lowly before nodding. He stands up, hands his ruined keyboard to their boss, and walks out.

Stiles waits a few seconds to see if Derek will come back. It’s insulting to call their supernatural abilities afflictions, but Stiles can kind of see where their boss gets it from. He is invisible after all. There’s so many things he can’t do anymore because he inherently gets called a creep. In fact, he has to wear clothes on top of his invisible clothes constantly or risk being called out for being naked.

To him, being invisible is an affliction. To Derek, being a werewolf is like being human: natural.

Same with Stiles and his selkie side. He doesn’t even think of it as an affliction.

Derek doesn’t return, and Stiles decides that he might as well shift back and actually get something done, so he bounces off to the bathroom, tucks his suit away, and walks back to his office.

He finds Derek’s sister Laura standing by his desk. She has a note in hand and a tray of coffees. Stiles doesn’t think he was gone that long.

“Derek wanted to apologize for running off,” Laura says, thrusting the coffee tray at Stiles. One cup is already missing.

She hands him the note after he selects a mocha cappuccino. Then she installs a new keyboard at Derek’s computer and heads out.

Stiles opens the note. It’s a shaky apology written by Derek. Stiles flips it over and, avoiding the tears made from Derek’s claws, writes an acceptance of the apology and leaves it on the brand new keyboard. He’s not insulted by Derek needing time off. This full moon seems rougher than normal.

If Stiles really thinks about it, Derek’s tolerance and control during the full moons has been getting less for a long time. Almost six months. Something to think about.

He decides that he’ll bake Derek some of his prize winning double chocolate chip cookies when he sees him again.

It’s Friday today, so that means that Stiles won’t see him until Monday, and they have a meeting, so maybe he should do the cookies thing on Tuesday?

For now, he focuses on his computer and manages to complete all the expense reports they had planned.

5:00 rolls around and Stiles all but dances into the bathroom, switches into his suit, slides his bag on, and bounces out into the river for his commute home.

~ * ~

All weekend, Stiles does his normal routine, which involves staying up way too late and playing online games with friends halfway across the world. Then, he takes a quick, two hour break to make his apology-accepted-sorry-your-full-moons-suck cookies, because why not?, and clean his apartment.

Monday, he makes sure he has everything, including an actual suit for the meeting with their new clients, the ones he and Derek were doing expense reports for, slides into his suit, and speeds off to work.

He barely gets to greet Derek with the tin of cookies before they both have to change into their suits for the meeting. Stiles slings his bag on his back. He doesn’t like leaving it out of sight for too long, his mom and dad impressing upon him at a young age that selkies can’t trust people with their suits when they’re not in them. In fact, Stiles has a cousin who only just got away from her abusive partner that kept her suit locked away the whole time they were married.

Their boss is standing at the door to the conference room. He is made up to look as if he’s got an actual face for once. He’s wearing gloves and is dressed fully in the required suit. It’s a little uncanny valley, but has the desired effect of making all of him visible.

“Sorry, Stiles, you need to leave your bag somewhere secure.”

“What? Why?”

One of Derek’s ears twitches as he squeezes past them and sits next to Laura, who in addition to being Derek’s sister, is the head of their IT department.

“The clients. They’re human. We’re presenting as human today. I’m sorry, but you have to leave your bag off for this meeting.”

Stiles wants to bite out something about discrimination, but he knows how hard the supernatural world has worked for this. Their firm is the first human-supernatural merger, and if it goes well, there will be others.

“Isn’t this the meeting we reveal ourselves?” Stiles asks. That was the rumor around the water cooler a few weeks back.

“No.” His boss shakes his head. “We merge. Business goes on as usual. Another, more visible, supernatural business merges with another human business. The humans are told at that merger, and if there are any uprisings, we represent cases of discrimination.”

“What if our partners end up being discriminatory against us?” one of the more timid department heads asks. Stiles thinks his name is Boyd. He’s a werewolf, like Derek. It’s a good question, and it’s good coming from Boyd. He was rescued from a hunter farm where they bred and-slash-or forced werewolf creation so that they could “find out what makes them tick.”

Thank fuck that had been shut down right quick.

That’s what these mergers are all about: eliminating the humans’ natural instinct of being afraid of or hurting their supernatural counterparts.

“This firm has been heavily vetted. There can be no room for error here,” Stiles’ boss says. “Unfortunately that means that, for the press release, there can be no evidence of supernatural. Stiles, I am so sorry, you have to leave your bag somewhere. You will be compensated for your time without it.”

Stiles scoffs. “You think you can name a price and buy off my anxiety about my suit?” He looks at Derek, who looks murderous, at Laura, frowning, one hand on Derek’s arm, like she’s restraining him, at Boyd, who looks terrified. He sighs. “Fine. I’ll go hide my bag. But,�� he adds, vehemently, “only because not doing so would endanger more than myself.”

“Hurry back,” his boss says. “The meeting starts in fifteen minutes.”

Stiles mutters a curse under his breath as he heads back to his and Derek’s office. There’s no place here at work that he feels safe enough to hide his suit, and there’s not enough time to call his dad to guard it for him.

Then he thinks about the file cabinet. It’s kept locked all the time. Paper copies of all the files he and Derek work on. He and Derek have keys, as does their boss. If he locks it in there, it should be safe for the meeting.

And he can check on it at lunch to make sure it’s still safe and sound. Stiles unlocks the top drawer, shoves the bag as deep as it can go, and heads back to the conference room, pausing to sneeze as some scent tickles his nose a little much. He slinks to his seat next to Derek and sits down.

Derek pats his arm, whispering, “I’m sorry,” without moving his lips.

Stiles shakes his head, turns to watch as the merging firm marches in, and the meeting begins.

~ * ~

Four hours later, Stiles heads back to his office under the guise of a quick refresher break.

When he gets to the room, he stares in shock at the destruction he sees there.

His and Derek’s computers have been knocked over, the towers scratched and smashed. Thank goodness for external servers. At least their work won’t be too disrupted while it’s fixed.

He turns to survey the rest of the room and his heart freezes in his chest.The file cabinet is leaning against the wall, all the drawers jimmied open, their contents spilled everywhere. Derek’s meticulous filing system ruined in a few moments.

But most heart-stopping of all is the fact that Stiles’ bag is gone.

It’s not anywhere in the mess and it isn’t still in the drawer he left it in.

Stiles runs around, digging frantically, in case he missed it. He also sneezes again and again, and finally pauses. He’s been gone too long. He’ll be missed at lunch, which they’re having catered in the conference room.

No. This is too important. Stiles isn’t hungry. He feels rather sick and on the verge of a panic attack.

He knows his nose is good, better than a human’s, but he knows better noses. He remembers when he first met Derek, and Derek was an awkward co-worker who claimed that Stiles stunk of the river even though, at that time, Stiles only went swimming on the weekend and used regular transport like his less aquatically-inclined counterparts.

Stiles hurries back to the conference room, grabs Derek’s arm, and drags him out, muttering something about a number or some shit.

Derek reverses their grip, holding onto Stiles as he leads him back to their office. Derek stares at the mess.

“What happened?” He doesn’t sound like he’s asking Stiles, so Stiles doesn’t bother to answer. He just goes to the file cabinet and points at the drawer where he’d stashed his bag.

Derek nods sharply, inhales deeply, and then points back out to the hallway. Stiles follows him as he goes through the building until they’re out on the street.

Lunch is probably being served now, but Stiles can’t find it in himself to worry about it. He and Derek already presented their expense reports. They’re clear for the rest of the day. It’s just that the firm wanted representation from all departments to be there for the whole of the negotiations. And lunch is also negotiations for some reason.

“Here,” Derek says suddenly, jerking Stiles into a coffee shop down the block from their building.

There’s a few customers in line and they all jump, muttering angrily as Derek budges.

He stops in front of the barista, a woman in her twenties, with long brown hair pulled into a requisite ponytail, green visor “protecting” her eyes.

“Sir, the line starts back there,” she says, bored.

“Where’s your girlfriend?” Derek asks.

Stiles frowns at him. Girlfriend? He leans closer, catches a whiff of something spicy on her. It tickles his nose, and he stifles a sneeze into Derek’s back. Oh hell. They’re both still wearing their suits. It makes a hysterical laugh bubble up in his throat. Derek pats at him clumsily but comfortingly.

The barista blinks. “My girlfriend is none of your business,” she snaps.

“She is when she steals something from my boyfriend,” Derek snaps back.

Stiles chokes on his spit. Boyfriend?News to him.

Derek gives him a quick, apologetic glance, before turning back to glare at the barista.

She caves rather quickly then. “Sorry. She’s in the back. What did she take?”

“A green bag, waterproof. Everything that was in it had better be in it when you get it back. My boyfriend will confirm.”

“I’m sorry about this. I thought she’d gotten over it.”

Derek just points to the back.

Behind him, the line takes a collective step back, some of the people mutter about being late, but for the most part, they all look too intrigued to leave. Shame.Stiles really doesn’t want to reveal to a whole roomful of people that he’s a selkie.

Derek grips his elbow and steers him to the far side of the counter so that they’re no longer in the line’s way. Another barista steps up and things start flowing again. No one leaves even after they get their orders. Crap. It’s like daytime TV, so hilariously bad as to be completely riveting. Stiles could do without the starring role though.

The first barista comes back, leading a pinkish-tinged woman with bright pink hair and cat ears headband by the hand.Stiles sneezes as soon as he catches her scent, the same spicy one on the barista, and definitely the same one in his and Derek’s office.

The pink woman has Stiles’ bag clutched tightly in one hand, the other is still being held by the barista.

“She’s sorry about taking your bag,” the barista says. She squeezes her girlfriend’s hand, and wordlessly, she offers Stiles his bag. Stiles grabs it, digging through to see that everything he’d left in there is still in there, including his suit. He strokes it before hugging the bag to his chest.

The pink woman nods at him. “Soft,” she says, voice low, sweet.

“I’m so sorry about that,” the barista says. “It’s just, she’s a pixie, y’know? She has compulsions.”

“Soft,” the woman says again.

“Yes,” Derek agrees. “It is soft. But it’s his.” He draws his eyebrows down, but it’s not his mad face. Stiles has become quite the expert on Derek’s faces after a year as office mates.

He knows they’re friends now because Derek doesn’t make his I-hate-you-and-want-to-rip-your-throat-out-with-my-teethface anymore, but he hadn’t known Derek thought they were dating. They haven’t gone on any dates. It’s an oversight Stiles will have to correct, and soon.Unless, a stray thought mocks, Derek only said that to get the bag back quicker. Stiles’ stomach drops. They’re still friends, so whatever direction Derek decides to go in after today, Stiles will respect his choice, even if it doesn’t include him.

“Soft,” the pixie repeats, making a gimme motion with her free hand.

“I’m so sorry,” the barista says again. “I used to have a coat like that, but it got lost.”

Derek’s brow furrows. “Where did it ‘get lost’?” he asks. Stiles leans closer. Derek has his I’m-going-to-solve-this-even-if-it-means-an-international-incident face on. Stiles has seen that face exactly once: when he ousted a hunter cell that was operating near their firm. Derek’s mother, high level ambassador in the supernatural-human merges, had come down swiftly and kept other hunter groups from retaliating. Stiles surreptitiously slides out his phone and picks out Laura’s number. He doesn’t dial quite yet though.

Derek’s faces, while always a clear sign of what Derek is going to do, are not always indicative of the trouble they may or may not cause. Mostly, it depends on the other parties’ reaction to 200 pounds of pissed off werewolf suddenly appearing in their faces.

The barista makes a face. “My ex-boyfriend stole it one night. And I couldn’t exactly tell the cops what it was, so he’s still got it. I’m unharmed for the most part. Sometimes,though, I can feel him stroking it.”

“That’s good that he hasn’t hurt you through it,” Stiles says. He hasn’t really gotten into dating specifically because of the horror stories from his mom and dad. From the look on Derek’s face, this ex-boyfriend is going to be dead when they meet him.

“What’s his name? Where does he live?”

Derek is speaking lowly, but even the pixie draws back, a look of fear on her face.

Stiles pats at Derek’s arm. “The full moon was just yesterday,” he explains. “He’s really good with control, but it might still be affecting him.” He shows the barista his phone. “This is his sister. His whole family will help you get your coat back.”

She covers her mouth, tears already running down her face. The pixie turns to her and starts swiping at them, making little distressed noises.

“No, no. they’re happy tears. They’re going to help us get my soft back.”

“Soft?” The pixie gives both Stiles and Derek a long, assessing look before nodding fiercely. “Friends.”

They get more information from the barista before she checks her watch, flinches, and says, “I have to get back to work. Thank you for doing this. Bye.”

Stiles checks his own watch. They’ve used up all their lunch break and if they don’t leave right now, they’ll be late for the other half of their meeting.

Derek seems to realize it too, because he deflates a little. “I’ll call my mom. She and my uncle can go get her suit back.”

“Coat,” Stiles corrects. “I call mine a suit. She calls hers a coat.”

Derek smiles then. “Remind me that I have to tell you something when all this is over.”

“What?”

Before Stiles can attempt to get it out of him now, Derek starts running, and Stiles has to run to keep up with him. As much as Stiles knows Derek, Derek knows Stiles too. It’s frustrating sometimes, like now, when they’re running half a block back to their firm.

When they get back to the conference room, their boss, looking a little less visible with some of his makeup worn off, ushers them into the room. Derek fakes needing the restroom, promises to be back in two minutes, and runs off. Stiles sits down and pretends to pay attention.

Derek comes back in the promised two minutes, sits next to Stiles, and together they just listen as the finer details of the merge are finalized and suddenly, they’ve doubled in size.

Derek and Laura both get a call as soon as the workday ends, and before Stiles can ask what’s up or what Derek needs to tell him, they’re both shifted and gone.

Stiles sighs. There’s always tomorrow.

He changes into his suit, glad to have it back, and swims home.

~ * ~

Tuesday dawns bright and early without sun and with a dripping wet werewolf sitting on the end of Stiles’ bed.

Stiles screams and throws the first thing he can grab—his alarm clock—at the werewolf, and Derek tumbles to the floor with a muted oof.

Stiles flicks on the light and points at Derek. “Explain,” he says. “Why did you try to give me a heart attack in the middle of the night?”

Derek rolls his shoulders in a self-conscious shrug. “’snot the middle of the night,” he mutters, pettily.

Stiles points at his clock. “Well, I wouldn’t know. I had to use my timepiece as an improvised weapon.”

“I’m sorry. I’ll go. I didn’t mean to—” Derek spreads his hands in a helpless gesture. Stiles can’t read it. He’d gotten so good at reading Derek’s facial expressions and tones but he forgot to learn his body language as well.Mostly because Derek doesn’t use body language. He sits still and doesn’t give clues. Stiles takes a metaphoric step back, studies Derek for a long, solemn moment, and then offers his hand to pull him up on the bed.

“Why are you wet?” he asks, more gently.

Derek rolls his shoulders again, like he’s trying to work out a kink, but it’s probably embarrassment that’s pinching his nerves.

“I wanted to update you on the pixie and the selkie,” he says, eyes fixed on his lap. “I only know you smell like the river a lot, so I followed it up.” A flush creeps up his neck, and he ducks his head down more. “I fell in,” he says miserably.

Stiles can’t help the laugh that comes out of him. He slaps his hand over his mouth, but the damage is done. Derek shakes his head once, and moves to get up. Stiles grabs his wrist.

“No, I’m sorry. I’m not laughing at you—well maybe a little. I mean, you’re a werewolf and you fell in the river?”

“I wasn’t paying attention,” Derek says.

“Why not?”

“Because,” Derek says, and then mumbles the next part too low for even Stiles’ selkie ears to hear.

“What was that?”

Derek repeats himself louder and faster. It’s still just a jumbled mess of syllables that mean nothing to Stiles.

“Couldn’t catch that, dear, repeat again please. And enunciate.”

Derek lifts his head, determination burning in his eyes. “I said,” he speaks slowly, more, Stiles gets the feeling, to get the words out, than through annoyance at having to repeat himself for a third time, “that I fell in because I caught your scent and got distracted.”

Stiles doesn’t know how to respond to that, because, aside from the pretend-to-be-boyfriends to get Stiles’ suit back, Derek has expressed zero interest in Stiles like that. So why would he fall in the river after catching Stiles’ scent?

Stiles decides it’s too early and goes with a less confusing topic of conversation. “You said you wanted to update me on the pixie and the barista?”

Derek nods, grabbing the offered opportunity gratefully. “My mom and uncle found the ex-boyfriend easily. And because werewolves, they were able to locate and secure the coat quickly. Turns out he’s just a regular human obsessed with selkie lore and just wanted to have control over her.”

“Is he in jail?”

Derek shakes his head. “How can we arrest him? Humans aren’t exactly aware of the supernatural yet. My mom is going to keep an eye on him, and my uncle promised to put the fear of Peter into him.”

“‘The fear of Peter’?”Stiles raises an eyebrow. “That’s awfully cocky of your uncle Peter.” He gets a quirked smile in response. Stiles has met Peter once, and that was enough for Stiles to realize that Peter, if he didn’t like you, could make your life miserable.

Thankfully, Peter seemed to like Stiles, and he hasn’t been subjected to more of his particular brand of Peter-ness.

“Anyway,” Derek continues, “I wanted to tell you that Ari got her coat back, and Livie is sorry for taking yours.”

“I get it. She probably thought it was Ari’s.”

“Yeah, and one more thing: I think I love you.”

Stiles blinks at the confession. Blood rushes in his ears and it’s a little difficult to breathe.

“What?” he manages to whisper.

Derek makes eye contact with the wall past Stiles’ head. Choked, he says, “I think I’m in love with you. It’s why my full moons have been getting worse. My anchor is shifting. It’s you.”

“What?” Stiles repeats. Derek’s head drops, his shoulders droop. Confused, Stiles just stares at him.

“My anchor isn’t what it was before. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have told you. It’s too much. I’m sorry.”

He stands up almost too fast for Stiles to grab him again. “No!”

Derek looks at where Stiles is gripping his wrist. “No?” he asks, and it sounds so, so hopeful.

“No,” Stiles says, settling back, tugging Derek gently until he’s back on the bed. “Don’t go. Tell me more about your anchor. Tell me more about you. ‘Cause, Derek, you’re not the only one who thinks they’re in love.”

Derek’s eyes go to Stiles’ chest—his heartbeat. “I love you,” Stiles says, and the skip in his heartbeat isn’t from a lie. It’s because he’s realizing the truth. He may have been able to reason with himself at the coffee shop yesterday, and even explain away all the little anomalies of being attracted to his officemate as being friends, but he knows with certainty, he wants to be actual boyfriends with Derek.

He wants Derek here, in his space, wants to help him get his wolf back in control during the full moons, wants to get him bagels every morning, wants, wants, wants, so steady, it’s like his heartbeat.

And when Derek leans in, asks, “May I?” so gently and carefully before kissing Stiles’ like he’s the most precious thing in the world, Stiles knows, Derek wants too.

Warmth surges in his veins and he deepens the kiss, holding it like a breath, kissing like their lives depend on it, and trying to climb into the space in Derek’s heart that is already calling his name.

~ End ~

#theydraggedmein #stereksanta20 #*fic20 #*gifts20

[sweater-daddiesdumbdork]

We Should Probably Fix That

Summary- 2k Bucky Barnes x Y/N. Bucky and You meet up in the Locker room. SMUT. NSFW. written for Kristens 2020 writing challenge. Thanks for hosting, it was alot of fun! My Prompt- “Oh dont mind me. Just enjoying the view.”

Here it was a fine Saturday morning and you were staring up at the ceiling of the compounds gym. Having just gotten your ass rolled by Natasha. Her hand stretched into your vision and grasping it, she hauled you back to a stand. "Good try, but you got to expect me on either side. And you favor the left."

"Yea, Bucky bruised my left hip" Nats lips turned into a smirk "not like that! Okay... Maybe like that. Worth it though. Try one more time?" The red head nodded and the two of you separated, going to separate corners of the mat.

As the two of you started sparring once more, you tried to stay focused on Nat, she isnt past pulling out a special move if she doesnt think your paying attention. Successful in blocking her, a quick duck on your part allows you to swing in closer, hooking a leg though hers and knocking her off kilter. Hey one out of three tries isn't bad and this time your the one helping her up, accompanied by "thats my girl!" You two glance over to see Bucky had come over from where he had been working out. “Oh dont mind me, just enjoying the view.” he winked at the two of you. 

"Yea well dont worry Barnes, I happened to see on the calendar were due for a match up, so next time you can participate." Natasha quipped as she went to grab a towel, grinning as she wiped the back of her neck "Y/N was at a disadvantage. Something about a bruise on her left side? Otherwise she probably gotten me more times."

You blush, but your face is already flushed and Bucky glances at you with a bit of worry, when you reach him, he handed your towel to you, then his vibranium hand touched along your hip, the coolness of his touch immediately noticed. "I thought that went away?"

"Dont listen to Romanoff, shes only teasing" you whisper back and lean up to kiss him. “Im not sore, and not favoring my left hip.” Behind you Nat is shaking her head yes, and you can see the way Buckys face changes that she must be doing something. “Nat, I swear, you and I will go back on the mat, and I will kick that tight ass of yours.” You turn around and toss your towel at her, and she snatchs it from the air and smirks. 

“Promises promises Y/N” she states as she gathers hers stuff and starts to head to the locker rooms. Bucky slings an arm around you and the two of you head that way as well, passing Steve and Sam as they came in to use the gym after there morning run. Turning the corner, Bucky veers off to go into the mens section, and Natasha waits patiently holding the womens door open. Once he goes inside, you veer back towards the mens, winking at Natasha. “Go on, Im gonna catch a shower elsewhere” and she gives you an approving thumbs up before going inside and leaving you to make your sneak, listening for Bucky to start the shower. After a few minutes you hear the groan of the pipework and the premium pressure shower heads Tony just had installed start, and you went inside. 

So you started stripping off you shoes and clothes, tossing them aside as you went down the row of lockers, honestly you didnt care if Steve and Sam stumbled upon them when they came in. They knew Bucky was a grown ass adult, and in a relationship. Once you reached the showers, you could see Buckys form through the frosted glass door, on a nearby bench were his everyday clothes, nicely folded, waiting for him to exit. You were a chaotic energy compared to his ritualistic ones. Why you two just worked. 

You decided to make yourself known, it never really pays off to sneak up on a super soldier, and you respected Buckys past to know that there was certain things he just didnt care for, sneaking up on him was one of them. So you knock on the glass door, giving a soft tune to his name as you spoke it. “Oh Barnes, mind sharing that hot water?” You could see him turn in the shower, and the silver of his arm stretch out to slide the glass aside. A billow of steam escaped when he opened the door, and his face emerged from it, his hair plastered to his head and droplets of water running down his the tip of his nose. His eyes rove down your form and your cant help but tilt your hip, folding your arms over your chest, leaving him growling playfully “Why you covering your self up sexy? Fuck come on in.” 

You giggled as his hand snaked out and wrapped around your waist, bringing you in. Tumbling against his chest, your arms sliding up around his neck as his lips claimed your neck, nibbles and flicks of his tongue speeding your pulse underneath it. His hands slid down your back and clasped your ass, arching you to grind right into him. “Something get you riled up today Buck?” You ask against his ear, sliding your tongue along the shell and tugging on his lobe, sucking on it. Your fingers dug into his shoulders as he backed you up into the tiled wall just under the spray. It cascaded down his muscled back that was taunt in his lust.

“Mmmhh watching you and Nat might have got me heated.” A roll of his hips showed you just how turned on it made him, along with the harder kiss marking your neck now, making you hiss and grind yourself back against him. Releasing your hands, you slid them down his chest, the mere touch of your hands left his muscles flexing underneath, along those V lines you so loved, and wrapped your hand around his erection, stroking just lightly enough to hear his breath hitch, and his vibranium arm pushed with some force against the wall beside your head. He was throbbing in your palm, and you relished holding him, stroking him into pleasure. “I can feel that Bucky... “

You leaned forward, husky voiced whispers “Your so big and hard, Its gonna feel so good pounding in my pussy.”  A slight twist of the wrist and as you slid your hand down, you slipped to roll his balls in your palm, moaning as you bite your lip. You tipped your head to glance at him, his breathing had started to turn shallow, rushed, and his pupils blew the further along you brought him. 

“Fuck, faster Y/N” In which you obliged, jerking your hand faster and faster, his hips jutting to keep pace. You could hear his hand tighten in the tile and the distinct crack of it, making you smirk. Oops, another one they busted, Tony was gonna see the repair request and give them shit later. His other hand, his warmth seeping from his palm as he pushed into your wet plastered hair, fisting into it and dragging your lips to meet his, possessively harsh kissing, a clashing of lips, forcing them apart with his tongue and dragging yours to his mouth. 

Dragging away from you, he gasped. “Stop, stop Baby” and you still, for a second before giving one more slow tempting pump, and he groaned, his dropped head to your shoulder giving a sharp bite, in which you yelp as his hands grasped behind your thighs and had you part your pretty thighs and fold around him. The wall kept you upright, leaving your hands free to explore all on there own. Weaving fingers right against his scalp, bringing his mouth back to your skin to work its magic. Following along your collarbone with worshiping kisses, his cock was slicked between your dripping folds. The moment his head slipped into your aching channel, you urged him to continue calling his name. “Fuck yes Buck, make me yours” 

Bucky Barnes was by all means a well endowed soldier, and you gasped feeling him stretch you the more he pushed in, rotating your hips, and tightening your legs around his waist to pull yourself closer, you gasped softly and a whimper was exhaled against his open mouth. “Fuck baby, your so god damn tight.” You giggle and kiss on the corner of his mouth, flexing yourself around him. 

“And all yours, we already broke the wall, lets really break some tiles.” You teased and he pulled back to start thrusting into you, definitely not disappointing, your ass bounced off the tile and his mouth traveled back to your collarbone. You leaned back, giving him access, cause you really wanted him to play with your bouncing breasts. 

“Think Tony is gonna start charging us?” He grunted and cupping a breast, teased it with his teeth, pulling the nipple with a pop between his teeth and swirling his tongue around it till it was nice and firm. Loving how your perky tits bounced in his face, lavishing his tongue down the valley, a mix of your salty skin and fresh warm water cascading from overhead his new favorite taste in the world. “I would pay whatever he wants as long as we continue shower sex” 

A roll of your body viced around him, screaming his name rather loudly and scratching down his back, while he continued powering through. His thrusts got harder, your channel slick with your arousal followed along with him, and reaching up to grasp the shower head to brace yourself. This was exactly why you loved being with Buck, he knew when to be gentle, and when to be rough as fuck. You pulled on his hair when he bit the curve of your breasts, knowing once more you were going to spot many bruises, underneath all your clothes. He was sure never to mark you within sight of the others.” Bucky, fuck im about to come again.... “ It hadnt been that long, and you were still clenching and coming down from the previous ones high. 

“Dont worry, Im fucking going to fill you up when you come... “ He cussed against you as you thrusted yourself harder, the both of you rushing towards your ending, and you screamed his name a second time, his body pushing to pin your between him and the wall, milking his cock for his seed, which throbbed in your channel, shooting thick streams to coat your walls, making you moan coming down. Reaching around you and feeling along the wall, you felt for the handle and twisted it to stop the water streaming down the two of you, and you both just panted against one another. 

Rubbing your hips as he pulled back so he wasnt crushing you against the wall, he reached up to brush your hair from your face, and kissed you softer this time. Not driven by lust, this was an affectionate kiss, trailing across your face and down your neck. “Ready to stand baby?” He questions you, and your hand smooths against his chest, nodding lightly. “Yea, just dont let me go right away, I think my legs might be a bit shook.” 

Laughing, he eased your thighs down and pulling from you, he continued you to your toes, sliding your arms around his neck and resting your head against his shoulder, still humming from your orgasm. You tip your head up, chin resting against his chest, admiring the little things going on, the way he had throughy fucked you in one of the best ways possible, that you both seemed to enjoy these quiet satisfied moments. His hands eased up your back and he looked down at you just staring up at him with a overall look of a loved woman. “everything alright babygirl?” You were unusually quiet. 

“Oh dont mind me. Just enjoying the view” you grin and lean up to kiss along his jaw line, mimicking him from earlier. 

“Well we dont enjoy the view! Could you two hurry it up!” Sam must have been waiting to get into the locker room, and you bust into laughter as you reach to grab a towel, poking Buckys side and pointing up at the shower head you were holding onto earlier. Apparently without realizing it, you happened to yank it out of the wall, leaving it crooked and wrenched. “Shit babes, we should probably get that fixed to, huh?” 

@peterman-spideyparker

#peterman-spideyparker2020 #kristen2020 #marvel #marvelchallenge #smut #bucky barnes #buckybarnes x reader #natasha romanoff

[bird-in-a-cage]

Found the ones with the horniest vibes for me! 39, 62, 103, 114, 127, 149. You know e x a c t l y what I want bby 😌😏 -CockAsInTheBird

Hi bby!

As one of my biggest supporters, and with how many prompts you gave me, you’re getting two fills. For the first one, well, you’ll see. Hope you enjoy!

Also a quick thank you to everyone who has sent in a little request so far. It means the world to me. I’m slowly making my way through them all and will get to each one in time. Having a full time job really does take up vaulable writing hours let me tell you. There’s still plenty of prompts available from the list here, or if you wanna just spin me your own ideas that’s totally okay too. My ask box is always open.

#62 - It’s okay, they’re he’s gone now. #149 I just want to look at you

2k | dead dove do not eat | murder ahoy. 

Part I is here

Serial Killer AU Part II

“If you could kill anyone, who would it be?” Steve asked casually, passing back the shared cigarette, smoke filling the air between them like barely there fog. Billy was laying down, plaid sheets bunched around his middle, looking up at a popcorn ceiling, shaggy brunette hair and dangerously calm amber eyes. Billy took what was left of the cigarette and inhaled slowly, but he didn’t have to think of an answer. He knew. Had known for years, if given the chance, who he would kill without a second thought. Had spent nights thinking about it over and over again.

“My dad.”

Those dangerous eyes twinkled in the dark, the only light coming from a lamp sitting on the nightstand, casting the room in a too bright orange glow. A smirk started to grow on Steve’s face, half hidden by shadows, the wheels starting to turn. He shifted, sank more under the sheets from his sitting position up against the headboard until he was on his side, propped up by an elbow, reached across the small space and thumbed Billy’s jaw tenderly like a lover would. It was little touches that pulled Billy more under his spell, little soft words here and there. Affirmations he was doing something good for the first time in his life.

He was good. After all this time.

“I think that sounds like a fun date night, don’t you?” Steve’s hand crept up to hold Billy’s cheek, cupping it softly, brushing his fingers over the bone underneath, tracing his skull like that’s all Steve could see. Was all he was interested in. “And you were so helpful with my little Hagan problem, I think you deserve it.” 

Tommy had been three days ago. Billy drove. That’s what he did now. Drove Steve around wherever he wanted to go. Helped whenever he needed it. Mostly loading and unloading. Holding people down. Being the muscle. Keeping people quiet. Making sure their eyes were open. Steve liked that. Liked people watching him work. Liked to see the will to fight turn limp and tearful upon realisation.

Tommy never locked his door. Never had apparently. Steve had been in his house many times. Knew exactly where to find him, knew his mom was working out of town for a week after a little reconnaissance. Steve was still the town’s darling after all. Tommy put up more of a fight than most. Almost got away if Billy didn’t stop him at the door. Because he did that now too. Kept watch. Kept watch for cops and onlookers. Nosey neighbours. Made sure no one got away. No possible loose ends that would need to be tied up.

He'd looked up at Billy so betrayed.

Steve stabbed Tommy fourteen times in the kitchen of the Hagan house. One for every year they had been friends. The last one was in the heart, so powerful Billy heard a rib crack from the other side of the room.

Disobeying the King had broken Steve’s heart. So he had to break Tommy's in return.

Blood was everywhere. Steve was covered in it as he panted over Tommy’s body, choking and gurgling on the last few moments of life. Looking up at them both helplessly, like maybe this was just a nightmare and he'd wake up soon. Steve waited until all was silent, got to his feet and set the knife on the kitchen table, regained his composure and swept his hair back with a bloody hand and a deep sigh. During the act he looked manic. Possessed by pure evil. Eyes wild and crazy. Unblinking. Not missing a single moment of his own handiwork.

“I don’t want Mrs Hagan to find this, she was always nice to me," he said calmly, eyes never leaving Tommy’s body. It was an order without the words.

Clean this up.

So Billy did, without question. Grabbed rubber marigolds and bleach from under the sink and scrubbed and scrubbed until the kitchen was sparkling again. Tommy was rolled up into a bedsheet and dumped like old luggage in the trunk of the BMW. Billy drove them out to the outskirts of town when it was nearly dawn, a little side road Steve had picked out especially. He liked to display. What he was doing was art at the most carnal level.

"We used to come here when he was wanting to experiment," he explained calmly, like he wasn't propping up the body of his former friend against a rock for a hiker to stumble across on their morning trail. "Wasn't gay if it was out of town. It's not gay if you don't take it Stevie."

Billy had just smoked. Kept the engine running for the headlights and watched. He could have ended everything right there. Crushed the maniac under the wheels and ran. Someone would surely believe his story. He was innocent. But he didn't. He just stood and smoked. Waited. 

Internally, he'd been trying to convince himself this was all for self preservation. Billy knew he was on Steve's imaginary list. He had to have been. Everyone else had been picked off and there wasn't a single hope he wasn't next. But Steve never said a word about it. Never gave off a look or an attitude that he was even contemplating it. He gave Billy smiles and compliments, reassurances that everything was okay, Billy was good at this, that he needed Billy's help, couldn’t do it without him. And something deep deep down clung to those kind, blood soaked words. 

Billy had never been told he was good before. Always a bad kid, a troublemaker, only fit for a chain gang. Even in elementary school. Good grades but a poor attitude. Constantly in the way of everyone's good time, fit for nothing. So many times he'd heard his father's rage towards him, both in front of and behind his back. Cruel words snarled like Billy was nothing but an old dog that just wouldn't die. Didn’t fit in with the new family. A ghost from the past.

Steve told him he was good. Almost constantly. And he’d never really liked Tommy that much anyway.

With how those dark eyes glittered in the dark of Steve's room, looking directly into Billy's very soul, calling to him like a siren in the middle of a storm, a date night sounded like a great idea.

***

Max and Susan were away for the weekend. Billy remembered it being on the family calendar pinned to the wall by the door the last time he was home. The day of Nancy. Written in bold black ink and circled three times. They were visiting some aunt or cousin or whatever. Billy hadn't really been paying attention to the conversation other than when the phrase 'boy's weekend' innocently left Susan's lips and Billy's very core turned the ice at the thought of there being absolutely no barrier between him and his father’s rage for three whole days.

A lot had changed since then.

For as much as Billy detested his father, he knew his routine. An ex military man. Always kept impeccable timing. It had gotten Billy in trouble more than once. Being a minute late for curfew and having to spend the night freezing in his car, shivering under a leather jacket and not much else.

He could feel Steve practically vibrating with excitement in the passenger seat as Billy cut the engine pulling up to Cherry Lane. He squeezed Billy's thigh firm but tender. Reassuring but serious.

Don’t back out now.

"You ready for this stud?"

Billy could only nod looking up at the house and what he knew what inside. It was late and a Saturday night. Neil would be passed out on the couch in front of whatever movie was on tv, half drunk on warm beer if Billy wasn’t there to be the punching bag.

He wasn't scared. Wasn't really thinking about the consequences of all of this. This was revenge now. Payback. For years of abuse both mental and physical. For being beaten down and made to feel lower than dirt. For every foul word and sharp backhand. For every dinnerless evening and night alone willing himself not to sob into a pillow because boys don't cry William. For being made and twisted into a creature that was now beyond human, beyond all control, but Steve understood.

They shared the same soul, the same creature. It rattled around them deep inside. Jerked and pulled and warped and swelled and became unstoppable. Billy just needed someone to unlock the cage. Steve had the key that fit perfectly.

Billy squeezed Steve's hand before they left the car. Billy still had keys even though he hadn't been home in close to a month. No one came looking for him. He didn't expect them to. He very well could have been dead in a ditch the way the body count was growing and the cops were being incompetent. But it all just added fuel to the fire.

The entire time Steve's grin was delicious. That same manic look back in his eyes that was always there when they did this. Like a shark when there was blood in the water. It made Billy’s heart flutter. For this one they swapped places. Managed to get the surprise swoop and have Neil pinned with a hand over his mouth before he could properly register what was happening. Before he could spit one last drop of venom in Billy's direction.

Steve had given him back his switchblade. A present for being so loyal and helpful. A sign of trust that it would never be used on himself. Billy twisted it into his father's neck with no remorse. Buried the blade so deep it hit bone. The gush and waterfall of blood was warm on them both. Billy stepped back from it to watch realisation and anger and then abject hopelessness wash through steely eyes that had been nothing but cruel his whole life. Steve laughed. Cackled towards the ceiling, biting his lip like a schoolgirl. Made sure to get blood on his hands like he was washing them under a wild spring. Billy felt some drip off his cheek, stain his shirt as he just panted, heart hammering in his chest and thrumming through his bones as Neil was let go to twitch and die on the carpet. Finally gone.

Steve took Billy's head in his hands gently, cupping his jaw and thumbing up to his cheeks. Everything was slick and warm. Spreading blood everywhere that had been clean. Marking his teritory.

"Oh baby, I just wanna look at you, I'm so proud of you!" Steve spoke comfortingly. Like a mother would after their kid won a third grade spelling bee. His eyes sparkled like diamonds. He was genuinely proud of what Billy had done. And that made Billy warm inside. Emotions mixed and twisted as it sunk in what Billy had done. He was crying a few solitary tears before he knew it, but they were gently brushed away by caressing thumbs.

"Hey, hey its okay, he’s gone now" Steve cooed. "The first is always the hardest. Especially if it's family." 

That had been Steve's first. His own father. He'd confessed one night in bed, both of them sweaty and hard. Like talking about this kind of thing was a turn on. It certainly was for Steve. Made him hard as a rock. He muttered his sins into the back of Billy's neck as he fucked into his protege so vigorously the headboard slammed off the wall and threatened to snap. Scraping his teeth over tanned skin as he let memories fly. About how he'd poisoned his father and just watched him convulce on the hallway floor. Just watched as the man begged for help but received nothing but the cold eyes of his own sixteen year old son.

He always came hard to that story, knuckles white, fingers digging into Billy’s hips and leaving bruises for days.

Billy tucked his head into Steve's neck, wrapped his arms around the thinner waist and let himself be held in return. Let himself be kissed. Let himself taste copper pennies and iron and smoke and spearmint gum from an hour before. And excitement. Let himself be pushed up against the wall of the hallway he'd walked through countless times and feel his partner hard against his hip. Let thighs slot together and bodies start rutting. Both running on adrenaline and excitement as a slain monster lay defeated on the floor. No longer part of the story. Groans being eaten. Hair being pulled. Bodies running tighter and tighter until the inevitable conclusion and cum soaked denim aftermath.

Steve panted warm against Billy’s temple, lips stained and swollen. Before this would have never been allowed. Never ever. Now Billy was free. Unchained. Knew deep in his heart and his head he would follow Steve to the ends of the earth as thanks for this wonderful gift. Words would never be able to describe how grateful he was. 

It was the best day of his life.

#harringrove #my writing #serial killer au #billy x steve #dead dove do not eat #tw: murder #tw: blood #tw: horror #tw: gore

[snowdice]

Gaps in His Files (Part 1) [Relabeled; Refiled Series]

Fandom: Sanders Sides

Relationships: Logan/Patton

Characters: 

Main: Logan, Patton

Appear: Remy

Summary:

Logan Berry has learned many things the last 10 years: a lot of math and physics, a bit of humility, and how to be a hero being just a few. Through his education, his experience teaching, and his exploits as the superhero Bluebird, he’s changed in a lot of small and large ways. He has recorded these changes in well-organized documents and files. He’s even had to create two new file designations: a red one for files about his moonlighting at Bluebird, and a light blue one dedicated to his boyfriend, Patton.

When Bluebird is targeted by a memory device and all of those 10 years of progress suddenly disappear, Patton Sanders and Logan’s extensive files are left as his only resource to get those memories back. But what is Patton supposed to do when there are clear gaps in his files? And what does he do when he is one of them?

This is set 25 years before Sometimes Labels Fail though it’s story is completely independent of it and it is not necessary to read that one first.

Notes: Superhero AU, memory loss, past child abuse, past child neglect, unhealthy ideas about ones place in relationships, emotional suppression, self-deprecating thoughts 

There are a few background stories for Logan and Patton’s relationship that are also unnecessary to read, but expand their backstory a bit. They can be read before or after this story. Coffee Shop Meet Cute and Coffee Shop Incident Report deal with their first meeting, The Things We Never Mentioned talks about how Patton figured out Logan was bluebird, and Logan’s 25 Step Plan to Ask a Boy Out is how they started dating.

Logan woke slightly colder than he should have been with a presence in his bed that had not been there when he’d fallen asleep. He squinted at said presence in the dim light of his bedroom. “You are a blanket thief,” he informed the sleeping form as he carefully brushed a bit of hair out of his face. He stirred a bit, pressing back against the touch with a soft sound. Logan glanced over at his bedside table and quickly reached over to turn off the alarm that was set to go off in 4 minutes. Then, he turned his attention back to the bed invader.

“Patton,” he called softly, leaning forward to brush a soft kiss across his brow. He puffed out a breath in response and shuffled closer, still mostly asleep. Logan smiled. He appreciated Patton in any state, but sleepy Patton held a special place in his heart. He started peppering kisses down his cheek to his jaw causing his nose to twitch as he started to stir. “Good morning dear.”

“Uhm nuh humba na ha.”

“Ah yes,” Logan replied seriously, “a compelling argument.”

He was still not quite in the waking world, but he was conscious enough to recognize the mocking. He whined and slapped Logan’s shoulder softly. Logan took that as a cue to roll on top of him and lean forward to kiss his neck.

“No,” he whined and wiggled. “Annoying.”

“Annoying huh?” Logan asked into his neck. “Big words for someone guilty of breaking and entering.”

“No breaking,” Patton complained, “I have a key!”

Logan hummed in response. “When did you get here?”

“About 4am,” he mumbled.

“Hmm,” Logan said and gave him a slow kiss on the lips. “I’ll close the curtains when I get up.”

Patton’s legs wrapped around his waist and he yawned. “Thanks.”

“I am going to have to get up pretty soon dear,” Logan pointed out.

“No,” Patton whined, “snuggles.”

“I think my students may not be happy if I do that,” he said.

Patton snorted. “They would too.”

“Well, at least my supervising professor wouldn’t be happy.”

Patton just grumbled and snaked his arms around Logan’s neck before pulling him down for another long kiss.

It took much effort for Logan to pull himself back. “This is entirely unfair,” he said, fingers tracing patterns over his cheeks. “You are far too adorable to resist.”

Patton giggled which was even more unfair and Logan surged forward for another kiss, though it was a quicker peck this time.

“And yet you resist me,” Patton said when he drew back again, a finger tracing his brow.

“Duty calls,” he responded.

“Yeah,” he replied softly.

“I love you,” Logan said. The hand on Logan’s shoulder clenched into the fabric of his shirt.

“I love you too,” he said, a bit of a shake to his voice before lunging forward to kiss him thoroughly once again. Logan was breathless by the time they finally drew apart.

“I do have to go now,” he said regretfully.

“Yeah, I know,” he said, and released his grip on Logan’s shoulder.

Logan regretfully pulled himself from the warmth that was Patton and stood. He went to his window and pulled the curtain to darken the room before going to his closet. The suit he’d picked up from the store yesterday was front and center, and he touched the outside of the white plastic covering it with a soft smile. Then he grabbed his outfit for the day. When he turned back around, Patton had already closed his eyes and curled himself around an extra pillow. Logan paused and leaned forward to kiss him on the cheek before going to change and get ready in the bathroom.

Once he was dressed, he entered his kitchen and his eyes immediately found the note on his countertop. Don’t forget to eat breakfast! :) <3 was scribbled in Patton’s messy scrawl on one of Logan’s sticky notes. Logan puffed out a laugh and went over to start the coffee machine. He reached for his coffee cup and caught sight of another sticky note inside it. Don’t ignore me. >:( it read. Logan shook his head and went about organizing his school supplies in his bag. He pulled out his planner to check his schedule for the day and another note fell out. Logan…

“Fine, fine,” Logan said aloud and walked over to his cabinet to grab the loaf of bread there. A note was taped to the top. Thankyou! <3<3. “Absolutely incorrigible,” he said fondly. He gathered up that note as well as the other three while he waited for the bread to toast and stuck them in his pocket. He spread peanut butter on his toast and poured himself a cup of coffee before taking his breakfast and his planner into the extra bedroom he’d converted into an office.

There was a pen sitting on his desk out of place and Logan bit his tongue in agitation, picking it up and sitting down on his chair. He took a bite of his toast and opened his planner to his to do list for the week. The calendar next to it had his class schedule in black pen, his personal appointments in green, and his study schedule in dark blue ink. His Saturday had been blocked off from 3pm to 11pm with a lighter blue inked pen. He went to check off one of the tasks he’d finished last night, and nothing happened.

“I’m going to kill him,” he told the empty room before rolling his chair over to the trashcan to throw out the empty pen. It clinked against the two already in the trashcan. He swore Patton had the latent superpower to summon inkless pens and the more time he spent at Logan’s apartment, the more accumulated despite Logan’s best efforts. It was a source of endless torment for Logan but still a small price to pay for his boyfriend’s presence.

Once he’d grabbed a functioning pen from its place in his pen holder and finished editing his weekly task list (Though there were a few important exclusions in this week’s list in fear of prying eyes. He would have to remember to call the photographers to confirm between his first and second class without a note to remind himself.), he reached into his pocket for this morning’s notes. He glanced up at a spot on the far wall that was too high for him and, more importantly, Patton to reach without buying a ladder. Well, at least, it would be too high for Logan except for one important fact. He flicked his finger and a small hidden door slid up. The contents of the secret compartment shot into his hand with barely a mental nudge.

He opened his desk and found the stack of different colored paper he kept there. He flipped past the dark blue and red to get to the pieces of light blue paper in the exact shade of the cover of the binder he held in his hand. He selected one of those pages and used the hole puncher on his desk to prepare it to go into the binder before he carefully arranged the notes from Patton on it in chronological order. Then, he pinned each of them down with pieces of tap and wrote himself quick notes next to each to remind himself of where he’d found them. Once finished, he turned to the binder. He touched the cover with a large amount of fondness and a bit of mortification because honestly, he couldn’t believe he was still doing this.

He’d started taking notes on Patton the moment they’d met in a coffee shop over three years ago. Later he would learn that Patton had just gotten off of a long shift at the hospital and was utterly exhausted, but all Logan had known at the time was that a strange man bumped into him and would have spilled an entire cup of hot coffee on him if it hadn’t been for Logan’s own quick reflexes. Unfortunately, those quick reflexes had not been of the physical variety; he had accidently used his powers to stop the cup and its contents in midair. He’d turned wide eyes to the stranger, dreading a reaction. There weren’t exactly many supers with telekinesis who lived in the state after all, but he’d just said “good catch” as though he hadn’t noticed Logan’s attempts to ruin his own secret identity. Logan hadn’t known whether or not to believe him when he acted as though he’d seen nothing, worried about who this man could be and what he could be planning. (Patton would later tell him that Logan probably could have floated into the coffee shop upside down and kicked Patton in his face, and he wouldn’t have noticed that day.) So, he’d written up an incident report for his red files with all the details he could remember and then resolved to keep an eye on the man in case he was lying and plotting to take action against Logan (he hadn’t been). And well, he had certainly ended up keeping an eye on Patton.

Later the binder had become a cumulation of frankly embarrassing records of his crush along with a failed list of steps to get a date (failed because while executing the third step, Patton had asked him out.) Then, once they’d started dating, it had been a sort of crutch, filled with hypothesizes and observations about Patton as though he were some sort of science experiment. Logan had never had any type of romantic relationship before (barring the two embarrassing incidents where his parents attempted to set him up with dates for school dances). He’d vowed when he first put on a mask that he would never date anyone who did not already know his superhero identity. The nice Catch-22 was that Logan had never told anyone that he was Bluebird. Then Patton barreled his way into his life with no regard for Logan’s emotional walls. Logan had been going in blind and the binder had been his way of dealing with the confusing, though wonderful, feelings.

He was better now, more settled, and more comfortable with the peculiarities of sharing so much of your life with another person. Now he only really referred to the binder for specific, important events. Other than that, it was used more like a scrapbook anymore. Logan had trouble throwing away things Patton gave him.

He flipped to the correct section of the binder and placed the page with this morning’s notes in it. His finger traced the smiley face and heart on the first one. Then, he flipped to the back of the binder briefly, tapped the baggy hanging there with his finger, just to double check, before closing the binder and replacing it back in the hidden compartment with his powers.

He drank the rest of his coffee and packed his bag before leaving to get to his 8:30 am class on time. It was Tuesday now. One more normal day today and three more after that.

Want to read more? Click below!

AO3 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

Labeled Master Post.

My Masterpost.

#sanders sides #logan sanders #patton sanders #logicality #tsss #superhero au #memory loss #past child abuse #past child neglect #emotional suppression #self deprecation #gaps in his files #labeled universe #relabeled; refiled #adriana writes

[knives-out20]

A Peaceful Birthday - Erik Lehnsherr x Male!OC

Fandom: X-Men

Pairing: Karmel Rosenstein (OC) x Erik Lehnsherr

Warnings: Gay, Fluff, OOC Erik but that’s just because he’s happy, Swearing, NSFW insinuations,

Notes: If you’re seeing this, that means it’s September 16. In other words, Karmel’s birthday! So happy birthday to this dumbfuck, I love him so much. Hannibal references below.

Karmel stared down at the desk calendar on his bedside table, tugging the sleeves of his grey sweater. “September sixteen...” He barely whispered the date, re-reading it again and again. “Birthdays are overrated.”

An arm wrapped around Karmel’s waist from behind, Karmel feeling someone’s chest press up against his back. Their other hand cupped his face, turning it to make him face the right.

Karmel met eyes with Erik, smile shining like the sun.

“Happy birthday, my love.” Erik greeted, quickly kissing Karmel.

“Birthdays aren’t that bad.” Karmel immediately thought. “Thanks, buttercup.” He giggled against Erik’s lips, then feeling something cool slide onto his finger. Karmel looked down, seeing a silver, metal ring on his right ring finger. He cooed softly, looking back up at Erik.

Erik, who had pulled away from Karmel and was now offering him a rose. “I also have George Orwell’s 1984 and Animal Farm waiting in your library, along with a few of William Faulkner’s works; I know how much you like them.” explained, tugging on the collar of his black turtleneck. “With pretty covers.”

Karmel took the rose, twirling it between his fingers. “You’re doing too fuckin’ much.”

“I feel like I’m not doing enough, actually.” Erik shrugged, sitting down on the bed. “I don’t know how many gifts could amount up to what you’re worth-”

“Erik,” Karmel laughed, turning away for a moment.

“I’m serious, Karmel” Erik urged. “I don’t know if any will ever be enough.”

Karmel looked down at Erik. “Y’know what, no amount of gifts in the entire fucking world will ever be enough. But y’know what would be enough?”

“What?”

“You.”

Erik blinked his gaze up at Karmel, a slight smile growing onto his face. It was just barely noticeable. “Now you’re the one who’s doing too much.”

Karmel put the rose down on the bedside table, moving to stand directly in front of Erik. He started to slowly crawl onto him.

Erik leaned further and further back, stopping when he was leaning on his elbows. He looked up at Karmel. “I quite enjoy this view,” Erik flirted, using Karmel’s suspected embarrassment to his advantage by flipping them so that it was now him pinning Karmel down. “But I like this one so much better.”

Karmel kissed his teeth, covering his face with his hand in a poor attempt to hide his blushing state.

Erik chuckled and got up, outstretching a hand to pull Karmel up with him. He slid an arm around Karmel’s waist, his other hand holding Karmel’s. 

Karmel tossed his free arm straight over Erik’s shoulder. Though he always enjoyed holding Erik’s hand, he pulled his hand away to snake around the back of Erik’s neck and hold his own forearm.

Erik had both hands around Karmel’s waist, but both of his eyes lay on Karmel’s lips.

Long enough for Karmel to notice. “Are you staring at my lips again?” He questioned.

Erik grinned lazily, dropping a hand.

“Honestly, Erik-” Karmel’s tone sounded either annoyed, tired, used to it, or somewhere in between. No matter how negative he may have sounded, he didn’t mind where Erik’s attention was currently focused; he never did.

Erik let go of Karmel, sliding past him and sitting on the bed.

Karmel turned around, watching Erik lean his back against the headboard, his legs straight out. He still couldn’t believe that this man in front of him was the reason he’s finally having a peaceful birthday for the first time since before his parents died.

His feet almost touched the foot of the bed.

Karmel crawled onto Erik, straddling him and putting his hands on his shoulders. He slowly rubbed Erik’s shoulders, “y’know what else would be enough?”

“What?”

Karmel looked at Erik with blue puppy-dog eyes and a pout, hands slowly dragging down Erik’s chest. He watched as they got closer and closer to Erik’s crotch.

Erik caught on quickly, swiping Karmel’s hands away. He tutted softly, wagging his finger. “We’re saving that for later, darling.” Erik told, kissing Karmel’s neck. “Riling you up throughout the day is fun, I consider it free entertainment.”

Karmel whined, automatically tilting his head up. “C’mon, Erik. It’s my birthday, I shouldn’t have to wait.” He complained. 

Erik repeated his earlier actions by flipping them, pinning Karmel down once again. “Keep whining and pouting, dear, see where that get’s you.” He whispered, holding Karmel down with a mischievous glint in his darkened eyes.

Karmel’s eyes went wide with what could be fear; mark him down as scared and horny. His lips parted a bit, breath becoming heavy as he stared up at Erik. “Sh-Should I fuckin’ say ‘please’ or something?” Karmel suggested. His experience of Erik’s attention is so profoundly harmful, yet so irresistible, it undermines his ability to think rationally.

Basically, Karmel likes Erik so much it actually makes him stupid. 

Erik had an amused grin on his lips, eyeing Karmel intently. He raised his eyebrows, a knowing look in his eyes.

Karmel rolled his eyes, groaning silently. “I need you, Erik.”

Erik waited patiently.

Karmel huffed. “Please.” The begging in his tone was crystal clear to both Erik and himself, only making him that much more needy to get what he wanted today.

Erik scoffed. “There, now was that so hard?”

“You shouldn’t be addicted to riling me up, you should be addicted to shutting the fuck up.” Karmel grumbled.

“You wanna fuck me so bad, it makes you look stupid.” Erik teased.

“Now c’mon,” Karmel whimpered, “I said please, give me what I want.”

“And also because it’s your birthday?”

“Duh, because it’s my birthday.” Karmel reminded.

Erik smiled. “How can I say no to that, darling?” He rhetorically asked. “You can relax, now, Karmel; you’re in good hands.”

#X-men OC #X-men #xmen #xmen oc #Erik Lehnsherr #erik lehnsherr x male #erik lehnsherr x oc #erik lehnsherr x male!oc #karmel rosenstein #male oc #oc #male x male #male x canon #male x oc #oc x male #oc x canon #canon x oc #canon x male