#// you can tell kit i have a lot feelings for my muses

[blackbat05]

After Missions

Miguel O’Hara x Reader

Plot: Miguel rarely let’s anyone in after missions. But he does make exceptions.

Genre: PG-13

A/N: Movie was amazing! I would say more but I’ll stop myself. I see a lot of fics for Miguel but there’s few SFW ones, that needs to changed. Reblogs and comments are appreciated!

“You sure you don’t need to get yourself checked out?”

“I’m fine.”

“I can literally see a gash on your side, Miguel.” Jess deadpans.

“I’m fine.”

“Is that all you know how to say?”

“No-yes-argh! Just leave me alone please.” Miguel widens his stride, entering his private space. Well, almost private space.

“I can call her.” Lyla and her uncanny ability to pop up despite not being called for.

“You will do no such thing.” Miguel winces as he takes a seat. Peeling off his suit, he groans as the gash looks at him with a nasty red smile. This was going to take a while.

Lyla shrugs, “Suit yourself boss.” Her hologram switches off quicker than usual and Miguel knows that she’s up to something. Not that he had the energy to care.

Using his left leg, Miguel pulls out the first aid kit with difficulty. The gash was just all in a day’s work, but that didn’t mean he looked forward to stitching it up after every mission. You always did it much better.

“So, are you even going to sleep tonight?”

Miguel sees you standing at the entrance and curses internally.

“One of these days, I’m going to shut Lyla down.” He mutters, loud enough for you to hear.

“It was Peter actually. Thank god because he knew you would be to stubborn to call for help.” Despite your jab at Miguel, you didn’t seem to bothered at how grumpy he was.

Sitting across him, you take the needle from Miguel’s hands. “You didn’t think of taking some painkillers before I don’t know- you try and sow yourself up?”

“I don’t need it.” Miguel grunts as you prepare to clean the wound. He hisses loudly as the cotton touches the raw skin.

“Sure tough guy, keep telling yourself that.” You chuckle. “Here, take these.” You pass him a couple of painkillers before getting to work.

Silence takes over as you steadily work on his wounds. Pursing your lips in concentration, you finish the last bit, cutting off the excess string.

“Done!” You stand up slowly to stretch your body. You stand beside Miguel who is still sitting down, tossing on a grey sweater. You run your fingers through his curly hair, giving Miguel a head pat.

“What are you doing?” Miguel doesn’t seem annoyed. In fact, he seemed more confused at your actions.

“A head pat. I thought that would be obvious. For a job well done. Usually the people that I stitch up are way more fidgety.” You mused. “Besides, isn’t it nice?”

Miguel’s about to tell you that he isn’t a domesticated animal but your fingers somehow work magic on his scalp. He finds himself automatically leaning into your touch, letting out a soft purr.

“Not a word to anyone about this.”

“As long as you come straight to me after missions.”

“Deal.”

***

Afterword

“Did you guys see that! Miguel just smiled! Oh the world’s going to end soon.” Peter gasps dramatically as he paces up and down the room with a babbling Mayday.

“I knew our boss had some color to him! He’s not just multiverse business and all.” Pavitr grins. “Hobie come on, gimme my 10 bucks.”

“Damn it, I knew I shouldn’t have agreed to this. How was I supposed to know O’Hara had a soft side to him?” Hobie passes him a couple of bills.

“Alright guys, let’s get outta here before Miguel finds out.” Gwen ushers the group towards the exit before all four come to halt to see an unamused Miguel glaring at them.

“Oh shit.”

***

Feel free to explore my other Miguel works here!

#miguel o'hara #miguel o’hara x reader #spiderman: across the spiderverse #spiderman 2099

[marc-spectorr]

✨HELLO✨

one muse is patching up the other’s injuries which leads to intense eye contact,  lingering touches and them finally crashing their lips against each other’s + our fave flyboy Poe? 🥰🥰🥰

pairing: poe dameron x reader

warnings: mentions of blood & injuries. fluff 

“I need to take off your shirt.”

“Well, at least buy me dinner first, sweetheart.”

You narrow your eyes into slits at Poe’s remark. If he wasn’t already terribly banged up the way he is now, you would have slapped him into another galaxy. You may have a lot of patience, but at this second, it’s running extremely low, especially after your commander over here got himself shot by a stormtrooper after his attempt in a heroic stunt. 

You had things under control on your end. Poe apparently didn’t think that was the case.

“You know what, fine. Have it your way,” you huff out, pushing the first aid kit at him before rising back to your feet. “For someone at a high risk of bleeding out on the jungle floor, you sure have to make things difficult.”

“I was kidding, geez,” he grunts as he sits up straighter against the bark of the tree behind him. “I cope with humor, can’t you tell?”

“You call that humor?” Rolling your eyes, you kneel back beside him and make quick work of his buttons before carefully peeling the shirt open, revealing his lean yet defined body.

You swallow dryly, hoping Poe wouldn’t notice how quiet you suddenly are.

“See something you like, sweetheart?” 

You ignore Poe’s comment this time, focusing now on the blaster wound marring his side. Fortunately, it’s not as bad as you both had initially thought. This doesn’t mean that the pain isn’t excruciating, and he could still bleed out if you don’t fix him up right then and there.

“So what’s the prognosis, doc? Am I going to live?”

“Do you ever stop talking?” You question him, half-joking, half-serious. “I swear, sometimes I think you’re doing this on purpose just to annoy me.”

Poe lets out a hiss as you gently apply the bacta patch to his skin. It wipes that cocky smirk off his face, which was now replaced with a grimace. “Annoy you? Sweetheart, I promise that it’s never my intention to annoy you.”

“And why do you keep calling me that? Sweetheart? I’m not your sweetheart, not even close.”

He falls silent for a fleeting moment, allowing you to fully concentrate on bandaging him up the best you can. Poe winces as you carefully wrap the gauze around his waist. You could sense his unwavering stare on you, the sounds of his shuddering breaths filling the stillness in the air. 

“You didn’t need to do that.” Your words come out as a low whisper. Finally, you meet Poe’s gaze. “I saw it coming, that blaster shot. You didn’t have to jump in front of me and take the hit.”

“Hey,” he murmurs, closing a gloved hand over yours, adding a squeeze. “As much as it pisses you off, I’d do it all over again if it means keeping you safe, alive.”

“But why? Why sacrifice yourself to save me?”

Poe merely smiles, and it’s a genuine one that curls delicately at his lips. Soft and gentle, seeing it is like standing under a ray of sunshine after a storm. It makes you feel warm and gives you hope and joy. It stirs something deep inside of you, something that you’ve been denying for quite a while now.

“For the same reason why I call you sweetheart,” he answers as he draws circles in the back of your hand, his earthy eyes shimmering with the life still flowing inside him. “C’mon, you’re one of the best intelligence officers we have in the Resistance. Don’t act so naive; you’ve got to know it by now. You have to.”

And you do. You have always known but wouldn’t entertain the slightest thought of it. You and Poe? Please, you had more luck flying an X-Wing with zero experience than embarking on a relationship with the universe’s most arrogant pilot. 

Yet, it was damn near impossible to avoid Poe and your feelings entirely. Not when you’re always paired together in almost every mission Leia assigns to you. You swear that woman thinks there really is something going on between you and Poe, and that’s why she’s torturing you by having him accompany you often.

Perhaps, her plan is working after all.

“Sweetheart?” Poe calls out softly, and it’s irritating how gorgeous he looks even after getting shot. “Everything okay?”

“Oh, fuck it—”

You crash your lips to his, the force of the kiss nearly knocking him off balance until your hands cup his cheeks, holding him steady. Poe is quick to match your eagerness, deepening the kiss as his tongue delves into your mouth, brushing it against your own. 

A soft moan escapes him, and you abruptly pull away, believing that you had accidentally hurt him in some way. 

“Why’d you stop?” He breathlessly asks, his hand stroking your hair. 

“Sorry. I thought I pressed on your wound, and…” you trail off, not realizing that you’re grinning awfully bright at the lingering warmth on your lips. “We should— uh, get going. The ship’s not too far from where we’re at; think you can walk that far?”

“Yeah, I can,” Poe nods as you help him back up on his feet. Before you could start the trek, he spins you around and kisses you once more. This time, it’s much softer, slower, and sweeter. When it ends, you resist the urge to pull him back in for another. “Don’t think this is done and over with, okay?”

“I won’t,” you chuckle, throwing his arm around your shoulder, and Poe leans against you for support. “I’ll buy you dinner when we’re back on base.”

A kiss to your cheek, Poe then smiles. “I’m going to hold you to that, sweetheart.”

#poe dameron x reader #poe dameron #poe dameron x you #poe dameron imagine #callie's 2k celebration

[fitrahgolden]

WEARY MEMORY: 7 - FOUND A PHOTO OF YOU

Kit: I'm sorry I haven't reached out this week. 

>> I understand if you need space.

>> But we do need to talk about it.

Kit: I know.

Kit: Can you meet me somewhere for lunch? My schedule is open today.

>> Yeah, of course.

>> I could just come to yours if you're home.

Kit: Anthony. 

>> What? 

Kit: Terrible idea, considering, don't you think?

>> I can keep my hands to myself. Can you say the same?

Kit: Bullshit.

>> Someone's cocky.

Kit: Well, someone shouldn't have a problem meeting in public if someone doesn't have any ulterior motives.

>> …

>> I can't think of anything clever.

Kit: Shocking. A public meeting, then.

—

Anthony got to the café first, standing when he saw Kate approach the table. A hug was their typical greeting, and that's what Kate went for. But Anthony added a kiss on her cheek, evidently surprising her and causing her to falter as she backed away from him.

“Sorry,” he said, running a hand through his hair as they sat down. “Um, I clearly don't know what the fuck to do.”

“It's OK. It was nice. Or, it would have been, if I had known what the fuck to do.”

They shared an awkward laugh.

“Um,” Kate started, “What did you mean, exactly, by all the things you said on Saturday? I just… I don't want to assume or misunderstand. This is too important.”

Anthony nodded and cleared his throat. He'd been struggling all week with exactly what he wanted to happen, how he expected it to happen. How to explain it all.

“I think we should get married.”

Or, I could just say that.

Kate's eyes widened.

“Is that…? That's what I was trying to say, when I said we made a mistake. Did that not…? Are you surprised?”

Kate shook her head. “It’s just… Just hearing you say it like that. As if it's that simple.”

“What do you mean?” Anthony furrowed his brow.

“Well, there are a lot of steps to take before marriage is back on the table, don't you think?”

“Of course. I mean, I don't know about ‘a lot,’ but I know we'd need to decide how to tell the kids and everyone else, what to do about the townhouse–”

“No, Anthony. I'm saying that we can't jump straight to getting married. You have to know that.”

“Right,” Anthony said, feeling foolish. Kate, of course, seemed to read him perfectly. She reached across the table and put a hand on top of his. 

“Please, don't get me wrong. I'm not saying it can't happen, but… Look, whether it was a mistake or not, we got divorced for a reason. Things were bad, Anthony. We were bitter. And aimless. We were…just so sad.”

“I remember,” he said quietly.

“We are in such a better place now. And, who knows? Maybe we would have gotten there anyway if we stayed together. But… We can't take anything for granted. We absolutely cannot fuck this up.”

Anthony rubbed his thumb against Kate's hand. “Yeah. Of course you're right. So, are we, I don't know, dating?”

“Something like that,” she mused. “Exploring, maybe? I don't think we can really date properly until we tell the kids, and we should definitely hold off on that.”

“Yeah, for sure.”

They sat in silence for a while, both thinking. They ordered some food, and when the server walked away, Anthony spoke. 

“I guess we should get back into couple’s therapy.” 

“Yes, absolutely,” Kate agreed. “Not the same guy as last time, though.”

“Right. Last time we went to that guy, we got divorced.”

Kate laughed, and followed Anthony’s lead when he intertwined their fingers on the table.

“I was just… I don't know, Kit. I guess I was hoping there was a way for this to not feel messy.”

“Well, we made the mess. Can't change that now.”

“You're right,” Anthony shrugged. “So, step one…”

“...book a therapist.”

Anthony rubbed his chin. “Hmm, maybe we call that step one A.”

Kate chuckled as she bit into her chocolate croissant. “Why?”

“Because there's a one B. I hope there is, anyway.”

“And what would that be?”

“Well, what about what happened on Saturday?”

“That's…” Kate narrowed her eyes at him, “what we've been talking about this whole time, isn't it?

“We haven't gotten to one very important detail,” Anthony said as he looked her up and down, smirking.

“Ah.” Kate sat back.

“Is that on the table?”

“I thought you didn't want messy.”

“You just said the mess was unavoidable.”

“So, might as well? Is that what you're saying?” Kate was smiling, but there was something else behind it.

“Kit…” He leaned forward, taking her hand again. “I'm not taking you for granted. Or seeing you as some kind of convenience. I mean, shit, it seems to me like it would be pretty damn inconvenient for the time being, finding time to be together. But I want to. Do you?”

He flashed her a smile he couldn't suppress. Kate rolled her eyes, but Anthony reckoned it was because the answer to his question was yes.

“Perhaps I do…” she conceded.

Anthony waggled his eyebrows over his mug of chai.

“Nevermind, I definitely don’t.”

“I’m not allowed to be happy that my wife wants me?” he asked smugly before taking a sip, enjoying the way Kate’s pupils dilated a bit when he called her that.

“I’m not your wife,” she countered weakly.

“Eh, technically. We’ll see how much longer that’s the case.” 

—

In the weeks between that lunch and their trip to Scotland, part one A of their reconciliation plan was completed with relative ease. Of course, booking a therapist was easier than actually speaking with one. The first two sessions had Kate and Anthony recounting everything that had happened in their lives, together and apart, that they felt brought them to this point. Those sessions were a slog. They’d known they were going to have to do it, but there appeared to have been no way to prepare for going through all of that again. Kate and Anthony didn't speak much in the days following those sessions.

Mercifully, their holiday came up soon after, a much needed break for both of them, even more so than they had anticipated back when the trip had been booked.

All in all, by the time they got to their vacation house, Kate and Anthony had indulged in only a few stolen kisses and just one proper snog since the night of Edmund's birthday party.

—

“Anthony Sharma-Bridgerton, you did not pick the bedroom directly across from mine.”

After an afternoon flight, dinner out, and settling into the house, bedtime came early, and no one was complaining. The kids picked their rooms with relatively little bloodshed, and Anthony had been strangely evasive about which room he'd wanted. Now, Kate knew why.

“Oh, but I did.” He looked unfairly handsome, leaning back against his door, his smile shamelessly self-satisfied.

“Really subtle.”

“I just think–”

“Lower your voice!” Kate hissed in a whisper, looking towards where the kids’ room were, admittedly moderately far away. But Anthony was all too keen to get closer to Kate, stepping across the hall to the threshold of her room. Kate tried to keep her face neutral as he crowded her, putting a hand up on the wall next to her head.

“I just think,” he started again, “that we should take advantage of the fact that we're sleeping under the same roof this week. It'd be way riskier if I had to tiptoe across the house to get to you, wouldn't it?”

Kate scoffed, armed with her best poker face. “You're being awfully presumptive. Have I said I even want you to ‘get to me?’”

“Point taken.” He leaned in and ghosted his lips over hers. “Would you like that, Kit?” he whispered. “Come on. Let's make the most of this holiday, hm?”

Kate almost kissed him. Almost. And she enjoyed the thinly veiled frustration that washed over Anthony’s face when she moved away from him. She backed into her room a few steps, and cocked her head to the side. “Are you proposing a holiday fling with the woman with whom you share three children?”

Anthony’s face fell into something more serious, something darker, as he followed Kate into her room. He put his hand on the doorknob, and looked at her in question. She nodded, biting her lip as Anthony softly closed and locked the door behind him.

“You're more than just the mother of my kids to me, Kit.” He walked up to her and put his hands on her cheeks. “I mean, you are that, and that's fucking amazing, but…” He kissed her, slow and consuming. He pulled away, and Kate leaned toward him as he did, chasing his lips, but he resumed speaking, his eyes boring into hers. “That's not all I see when I look at you.”

“And, no, I don't want a fling,” he laughed, unbuttoning her shirt, doing the same with his own once hers was on the floor. “I want everything.” A kiss to her throat. “All of you.” Her sternum. “All the time.” Each breast, his breath gliding over her nipples.

Then, Anthony retraced his path until he was looking into Kate's eyes again. “We had it, we gave up on it, and then we lied to ourselves for over three years about it being the best thing for everyone. I refuse to fail us like that again, and I won’t let you do it, either.” His eyes flicked down to her lips, and he licked his own. “But if a fling is what you're offering, we can definitely start there.”

The next thing Kate knew, she was being hauled onto the bed.

—

Anthony could easily have been convinced he was dreaming, that his mind had gone back to a time when he was at his happiest, his most settled. It happened more times than he could possibly count since Kaveri was born, when it felt like he and Kate were well and truly drowning, and taking the kids with them. He'd dream about entire days, full of details, from back when they’d thought they had finally found their footing in life.

But after several blinks, Anthony readily accepted that this was indeed happening. He was waking up in bed with Kate. They were on their sides, facing each other. His arms were around her. Her head was buried in his chest. Her hair was tickling his chin. There'd been no fitful bouts of intermittent sleep. Kate hadn't passed out in the nursery after crying for hours. Their night had been blissful. It'd been easy. They could have these nights back, as a feature of their everyday lives. He was sure of it.

“You stayed,” Kate said, her voice a rough whisper.

“Of course, I stayed, Kit.” Anthony tightened his embrace. 

Kate fought to get her arms free so she could wrap them around his neck. “Good morning,” she yawned into his neck. 

“I think I can make it better.” Anthony kneaded Kate’s bum, and encouraged her to place her leg up to his hip.

“Too late,” she murmured, though she let him roll her onto her back, releasing a content hum as he settled between her legs. 

“Too late? The sun is just now rising, Kit.”

“Exactly.” She sounded more awake now. “It's getting light out. One of them could be up at any minute.”

Anthony laughed. “Have we not always prided ourselves on having kids who don’t wake up at the crack of dawn? We used to take advantage of that fact all the time. Do I need to remind you how?” He started to kiss his way under the covers, but Kate grabbed at his shoulders.

“No, no,” she whined. “You need to go to your room.”

Anthony sighed and crawled back up until they were face to face. “OK.” He gave her a quick kiss. “You're sure?”

“Well, it's not at all what I want, but yes, I’m sure. We just need to be careful, OK? If it's not annoying, we aren't being careful enough.” She pulled his face down for another kiss. 

“OK,” he pressed against her mouth.

It took about seven more minutes, but Anthony did eventually leave Kate's bed, and was well settled into his own by the time he heard the sounds of their kids emerging from their rooms. 

—

#bridgerton #kanthony #anthony x kate #kate and anthony #kate x anthony #kate bridgerton #kate sharma #kate sheffield #anthony and kate #anthony bridgerton #kanthony fic #kanthony fanfic #kanthony fanfiction #the viscount who loved me #kathony #kathony fic #kathony fanfiction #kathony fanfic #bridgerton au #bridgerton fic #bridgerton fanfiction #divorce au #co parenting au #weary memory au #weary memory

[wynterlanding]

get to know the author!

name : ash!

pronouns :  she/her

preference of communication : tumblr ims honestly. After some iffy experiences I no longer give out my discord to just anybody. I have to speak to you for a while on tumblr/interact/ooc chat (just make sure you actually wanna write with my muse & we gel) before I even feel comfortable doing it anymore. As unfortunate as that is BUT dms are always open here.

most active muse :  If you can't tell it's Landon lol He has his own solo space apart from his low activity connected universe multi. WHICH is only available to mains rn. But he lives in my head rent free so it's him.

experience / how many years :  Time to show my rp age. I kicked it on forum groups. NOW the bane of my existence and why I will never join any rp group again lolol Around 2008/2009 ish? I have seen a lot of shit. Which is why my rules are the way they are cause I ain't got time to put up with bs. I used to roll Hugh Dancy back in the era of H.annibal for an original and had the lovely experience of being forced shipped on LMAOO

best experience : Other than being able to meet and connect with cool ghosties now? A little private server I used to have with some people (one being one of my best friends now) that was fun until it faded.

rp pet peeves : anon hate. people following ( especially first ) but NEVER interacting with anything. inconsistency. pretending to have interest in me+muse and then banning my fc. YEP It's happened and it's a major blacklist!

fluff, angst, or smut : All? I mean I don't smut on first interactions or shit. It's gotta be established ships cause not my priority. But it's all good. Can I say horror and thriller? lolol Honestly someone burned me badly with a shit ton of angst non stop so I'm not always here for that. Good plot drama is juicy tho.

plots or memes : Plot! Plot! Plot! I don't prefer dropping into the middle of a plot either. I wanna build it. Not it being "they're already interacting at this pivotal point" when that makes no sense to me. Memes are fun if people actually send them but I wanna plot, create and expand on universes. I also have a tendency to lose interest/push replies back if my rp partner NEVER talks or plots with me in ims. It shows a lack of interest to me personally.

long or short replies : LONG OR GO HOME! I try to write shorter stuff but I can't even. It's hard for me. I'm long winded. I'm wordy. The fact Landon talks/thinks too much doesn't help this lmaooo But no I do write a lot but no one is obligated to match my length. I just ask for more than a little paragrah or two if I write a shit ton cause it totally makes it difficult for me to reply and I take longer which makes the thread sit.

time to write : Pfff you assume I have a schedule. When I feel like my brain can cooperate? But a lot of times when I have gone on reply sprees it's between midnight and 3 am. The witching and devil's hours respectively on this FINE part horror blog! I'm a vampire what can I say? I can write anytime but my most productive hours have sprang up there.

are you like your muses : Heck to the no. I guess the only thing is Lan's love for pop culture/movies/horror but everything else? Nope. Nobody on the multi either. ahshf I would hope not cause there are some crazy criminals in that city lol

tagged by: the incomparable @mutatedangels ! <3 <3

tagging: @awalkoflife @clemencetaught @depictedmorada @dcymcres @fcllederage @interxstitial @itsalltoobeautiful @godccmplex @kndaoverit @queenxfthedxmned @lavishbylaw @laviexenrose @mxlevolence @magicmadnessx @packagecfgirlyevil @smolcuriouskitten @ixonmaiden @thewolfruns @technopathicredhead @txnnesseehoney @wintxrx @kit-just-kit @svchasimp @velvetnviolentviolets @waveofstars !! & everyone else I follow - the whole dash!

#vintage villains and shocking sinners! dash games

[strudelbumsen]

“Dude, you’ve already taken two... I’m bleedin’ a lot. You do this a lot? You’d think you’d be-” 

“Buddy, talk big game, lose more blood, now hush hush and tell me if you feel it this time!”

Riley flinches, their bloodied hand twitching in the rope that ties it down, spread out along a dark oak table. The table has many puncture marks and slashes. Their arm is just as punctured and sliced, sutured and bandaged, kept carefully clean by their captor. Strade adjusts his cigar in his lips, humming along to an energetic heavy metal song playing from his computer.

A spare cigar rots in ash on the skull shaped ashtray, laid out for Riley by Strade almost 35 minutes ago. As the rolling paper burned to mess, Riley had been stabbed, sliced, and tested in any way Strade could think. Kidnapping is a step up from the usual reaction to sayin’ I can’t feel pain, that I’ll say, Riley muses as the large man positions a knife above the second knuckle on their ring finger. 

A firm chop of metal against oak, and that same feeling. Numb, wetness, and a sense of loss, a sudden emptiness. Riley flinches and groans, but not from pain. More from annoyance. More from the wriggling ghost of flesh where there once was a knuckle. Strade grins. 

“Feel it yet, buddy?” he teases, sounding good-natured and entertained as he taps out his cigar. 

“Nope,” Riley sighs. “Same as I told you before. I just feel all the blood getting on me, but not even that, much. Man- I mean, sir. I told you, I don’t feel pain, none.”

“None,” Strade repeats, giving a dumbfounded expression their way. “Buddy, you kill me, bahaha! You are a riot~”

“Do I wanna be a riot, sir?” they say, deadpanned and staring at the blood gushing from the joint. Strade pauses for a moment, then howls with laughter, hand pressed to his forehead. 

“Riley, liebling. You are just funny enough to kill a killer. Say, buddy. You want a break? Must be tired after a few days of fun.”

Riley’s face furrows into a frown. “Break... how? What, sir, another protein bar?”

Strade shakes his head, grinning, always grinning. “More like... a comfy bed, a home-cooked meal, and a cuddly pet!”

“Um... Well that does sound nice, but like you said, I’m not leavin’.” 

“What if I said... you don’t have to leave to get those things, hm?” Strade says casually, popping open his first aid kit and preparing to suture closed the gaping wound of a stub where a ring finger used to reside. 

“I’d say cutting me up turned you crazy, sir.”

“Maybe it just has, buddy, maybe it just has..” Strade scratches his stubble, looking them over with a smile soft enough for a bedroom. Riley shudders, cold coils up their whip-stung spine. “Say... You like collars much? You were all done-up in bracelets when you came to me. I can give you a gift. Made it just for you, just finished up yesterday!” 

“Gift? From you, man? I don’t know if I trust that.” Riley’s eyes feel heavy. No matter how little pain, a body is a body, and four days of blood loss and little food wears it down quickly. 

“Oh c’mon buddy, I’m a perfectly trustworthy guy! That’s why you told me all about yourself in that bar, yeah? All about how you’ve no friends, no family, no one who would look after you...” Strade strokes their tightly braided hair softly, coming to cup their face, almost loving. Almost possessive. “Riley. I can be that. I could tell, that night, all you wanted, liebse... was someone to finally look after you.”

Riley can’t help it, exhausted from days of torture, so much of them stolen, so much blood. They let the tears well up and spill over, and wail quietly into Strade’s palm. Strade lets out a soft “ohh” and hugs Riley to his chest, petting their dreadlocks in a mockery of care. But to Riley, to Riley it feels just like an old lover’s touch

“Come stay with me and my pet, Riley. Come stay, let me care for you and play with you. Come home and sleep.” Riley sobs and nods, face pressed to Strade’s bloodstained military shirt. Strade holds them until they’re done crying, but behind their back he is still grinning in that same crocodilian way. They are covered in sutured wounds. They are missing three fingers. They are so, so worn. 

When the cold, unforgiving metal of their gift settles around Riley’s neck, they do not kick or scream or fuss. When Strade leads them into the soft glow of a deceptively nice-looking house, they stumble and fall back only on Strade’s shoulder.  And, comforted into a warm bed beside a nervous fox and a kidnapper, Riley comes home to a pair of arms they will never leave again. 

#riley #strade #boyfriend to death #btd strade #btd mc #btd oc #btd fanfic #boyfriend to death fanfic #boyfriend to death strade #original character #murdersims #whump #whumpee #stockholm whump #whumpee oc #torture whump

[myths-of-fantasy]

Snippet 7 - A Place to Call Home Pt. 2

For a group of cats that live mostly separate, they sure group up a lot, Rusty mused to himself looking at the large collection of cats.

Myna had groaned and whined when Rusty had announced that they would be leaving to meet other cats upon her return but had eaten her prey and walked with them. They didn’t see any other cats as Willow led them in a seemingly random direction into the middle of the forest, but Rusty smelled a lot of them. He felt eyes on his pelt and concluded that they were being followed to this place where the paws dwelled.

“There are a lot of paw places,” said Willow. “But this is where the paws of the Kindra Sector and the Sector of Typhus usually meet. Cats from the Zephyr Sector and cats from the Umber Sector join them sometimes but we haven’t seen any umbers since Raggedstar was named Overseer.”

“Is that unusual?” Myna asked.

“A bit yes,” said Willow. “We older cats tend to keep our friends within the sectors unless we’re planning to move, but the paws are usually very friendly.”

“Oh joy,” said Kite dryly.

“Don’t mind her,” said Myna rolling her eyes. “Kite would spend everyday curled in a hole if we left her.”

“And I do wish you’d let me,” Kite said with a wistful sigh.

Gray snickered at her while Willow gestured with her tail to the clearing ahead. There were a collection of smooth gray rocks laying in what Rusty thinks might be the only sky visible section of the forest, soaking up sunlight with cats sprawled on every available surface.

“These are the Sunningrocks,” said Willow. “Bluestar and Stormstar negotiated an agreement near the beginning of their leaderships and it’s been neutral ground ever since. “

“There was a huge uproar when it was announced at the Gathering,” Gray said with a mischievous grin. “If you can find the elder’s district, you should ask them about it. Dappleri always tells the story so dramatically.”

“Let the elders have their fun,” chuckled Willow. “Sunningrocks has been a point of tension between Typhus and Kindra since the river tentatively rerouted - before The Separation, we used to fight each other over these stones.”

“Over some rocks?” said Kite, unimpressed.

“It was more of a boundary dispute,” Willow informed. “The area around Sunningrocks gave Kindra a significant amount more hunting territory - but the Typhus lost that territory. Kindra argued that the river was Typhus’ territory and the only reason they had Sunningrocks before was because it was surrounded by water. Typhus said that Sunningrocks had always belonged to them and therefore, they should keep it even though the river changed.”

“Seems silly but then again, I didn’t live through it,” Kite decided, flicking her ear.

“I’m certainly glad that Bluestar and Stormstar put a stop to all that,” Willow agreed. “Lives have been lost over Sunningrocks.”

Their conversation carried them the last few legs of the distance to Sunningrocks where cats glanced up at them curiously.

“I’m going to go sit with the adults,” Willow said, flicking her tail to a collection of cats near the river. “Stay within sight Gray.”

“Yes mom,” he agreed and started up the rocks.

“Hey Grayir,” purred a silver molly, lounging on her back.

“Hey Silverir,” he responded.

“Who are your friends?”

“I’m Rusty,” he spoke up. “And those are my sisters - Kite and Myna.”

“Odd one out with that name,” Silver giggled. “Two birds and a tarnished metal?”

“Two birds and a color,” Rusty corrected as Kite slumped down onto the warm rocks.

“Mmm…” she hummed. “Alright, I can see why wars were waged over these rocks.”

“They do feel nice,” agreed Rusty, settling beside her.

He purred lightly, enjoying the sun seeping into his pelt without the threat of a farcreature attacking him. Rusty had honestly taken their home sanctuary for granted when he was a young kit, naive and ignorant to the struggles of those who walk the world without magical borders and border wardens to protect them.

“Hey guys, there’s someone I want you to meet.”

Rusty cracked open one eye, “Does it require me getting up?”

“No.”

“Then I’m willing to meet him.”

Gray laughed prodding him into opening both of his eyes. Rusty at least gave him that respect, wincing when the sun hit his previously covered eye. As soon as his vision cleared, he noted a lanky brown tom with pale violet eyes and a white tipped tail.

“...he’s cute,” slipped out of Rusty’s mouth making the new tom yelp and hide his face in Gray’s pelt.

“He is, isn’t he?” Gray laughed. “This is Raven - he’s my best friend.  Raven these are my new friends - the tura I got in trouble for.”

“Woah,” said Silver, quickly sitting up. “You didn’t tell me you brought a few tura - can they do anything cool?”

“I don’t know,” admitted Gray. “I assume so - Bluestar seemed really angry so they must be strong in some capacity.”

“There will be no magic demonstrations today,” said Kite. “It’s way more peaceful here than out there and we have no intentions of getting kicked out if we can avoid it.”

“That’s fair,” Gray admitted.

“Well if you don’t want to do magic, but Raven is here, who’s up for a swim?” said Silver, grinning brightly.

“Ew,” said Myna even as Kite clambered to her paws.

“Sure,” she purred. “Rusty? You coming?”

“And leave these warm rocks? No way.”

“Alright, have fun!”

Rusty watched from his position laying down as Kite darted off after Silver towards the river, quickly beginning to splash about in the shallows and giggling loudly. Raven and Gray settled beside him and Myna, starting up a conversation.

He sighed happily and thanked his family’s sacrifice. It seemed now they had a place to rest.

#projects by ankh #the farlands #the farlands au #the farlands snippets #magic #alternate universe magic #the warrior cats au #warrior cat ideas #warrior cat au #warrior cats

[inanthesis]

"Oh yeah? Sounds like some stories to tell me about what took you out there more lately." As if Zhongli was ever hard up for things to tell Childe about, but catching him up on what was missed since their last time together was often what he wanted to hear about the most.

A few idle kisses were pressed along Zhongli's cheek and up his jaw while the consultant told him it wasn't necessary to get him a gift, and the smile on his lips would be felt as the last kiss was pressed right below Zhongli's ear. "Me getting you a gift is hardly unusual, this is just a good excuse to get you something more personal. The other things can be enjoyed later." Namely the Snezhnayan wine and tea he'd brought for them to drink at their leisure with meals while he was here. The more important present was what Childe (for now) removed himself from Zhongli's hold to retrieve.

The wrapped package was bigger than Childe's hand, but not overly so that it needed two hands to be held out to his lover. Inside Zhongli would find a leatherbound book that, upon closer inspection, was actually many sheets of paper bound together to become a book. What was most notable about the cover was the likeness of Childe's Tartaglia mask branded into the bottom corner; an image to showcase who the book was from for those who knew what it meant.

Inside were sheets of Childe's better practicings with the calligraphy kit gifted to him for his own birthday months back, writing full sentences out, a single attempt at a short Liyuen style poem, some pages containing whole notes for Zhongli with musings from the mind of his rascal thinking about his lover, some pages having recipes written out in great detail with a cheeky side note promising that none of them contained any sort of seafood, and another page had written out the story of Ajax the warrior that Childe himself heard more than a few times growing up about his namesake.

"I promised I'd show you more proof of me practicing with what you got me, a lot of the better times practicing are all in there, and some other things for you to read or try out. The recipes are all straight from my mothers kitchen too, so they're the best things I could make you that you'd like."

It was always far too soon to part for any reason at all in times where they were reunited, but Zhongli's curiosity held his desire to trap Childe in his arms at bay for now. He did quite enjoy receiving gifts, and this one was more of a surprise than he ever could have anticipated. It wasn't another fancy trinket to add to his collection or a promise to take him to the most extravagant restaurants in Liyue Harbor, it was something far more heartfelt, and as Zhongli found himself flipping through the pages he was struck with a feeling he could not name.

"I-..." When was the last time he's felt like this? Has he ever felt like this? He's received many a gift and offering in his thousands of years, some still holding great sentimental value for what they were or who they'd come from, but he'd never received anything quite like this.

"I am at a loss for words." That was a rare occurrence in and of itself, but the book would be clutched to his chest as he attempted to sort out his thoughts. This was sure to be something he would cherish for many, many years to come. It was something he would gladly peruse each and every time he felt that pang in his chest at not being able to see Childe while he was traveling for his work. It was something he would treasure, and memorize every stroke on every page of given time to read it all.

"This is a wonderful gift. You never cease to surprise me for better or for worse. I assure you, this book will be read cover to cover and it will find a home in the box where I have kept every letter you've ever sent me. Thank you."

#captivemuses #gen || asks #zhongli || interactions #zhongli || v: main #/ old man wants to kiss him but he doesn't wanna let go of the book he's getting all sentimental about it

[mushi-miko-unya-no-happypy]

Moona- Holy shitto moona is badass, she’s got summons that feel so smooth, her personal weapon feels great to use, her super is fucking phenomenal and she has support to let you get it off super quick, but I think my favorite of all is she has a singularity cc that actually fucking works too many games have singus that only have a tiny bit of pull or don’t work on bosses because it would hurt their feewings moonas shit says “we’re done when I say we’re done” it pulls in fucking everything 10/10 imo gold standard for characters

Risu- I uhhh wrote this before but didn’t save it so speedrun uhhhh she’s a shotgun surgeon, summons clones based on gold pickup, deals fuckign percent damage and in general fucks to survive definitely my new second favorite character after the rat, 10/10 I made a haste gold farm and ended a normal run with 20k gold and I didn’t even get the stamp till late like 15ish

Iofifteen- drew a dick with her ult, the rest of her kit is alright (I’d probs like it more if I watched her and got the jokes, but there’s just not enough synergy for me to enjoy) 7/10

Ollie- absolute speed FIEND you can haste and baste the FUCK outta this zombie in the refresher run I did before writing this I had her at like 110 haste 70 speed and it wasn’t even particularly optimal 9/10 great tanky speed fiend her lost point is from the fact I’m not in love with her ult and while I don’t have any gripe about her weapon it’s a smidge plain imo

Reine- critchad who actively benefits from the greed engine she’s really gunning for my heart gamers, I think she’s still under Risu but two indos weaseling their way into my hypothetical top five was not something I expected another really good character 10/10

Melfissa- single most tanky character in the game, might use her to afk farm who knows? I’m testing all these characters on stage one because I’m not tryna fight for my life on a character I don’t know but mel can literally just sit there on smol ame she can’t do shit to you cope and seeth 9/10 build like a brick wall

Kobo- pretty standard character only notable in the fact that I didn’t particularly enjoy her :/ her gimmick feels clunky her ult isn’t fun nothing against the girl herself or the oomfies who like her 6/10 her raincloud shaman skill is pretty cool her other skills just aren’t fun :/

Kaela- absolutely BADASS character I love all her skills, her ult is fun (and scales nutty with idol live which is badass), she has a hammer which all the oomfies know is one of the smoomfies top five weapons of all time she absolutely has it all, still under crat but she’s definitely tied with the squirrel for second absolute banger after banger 10/10

Vestia- Not gonna mince words on this one shes by far the weakest out of the group, her kit revolves around crits but only to get more exp, which I get kinda like I guess they want her to rely more on her weapons and items the only problem is that it doesn’t feel very good like I couldn’t help but think the entire time other characters could get more mileage outta the build I will say I started to enjoy the challenge of it towards the end and maybe if I built her different she could be more fun but these are just my personal thoughts and not like a guide or anything so :/ 7/10 still more fun then kobo

Closing thoughts- uhhhhhh it turns out playing 9 characters in a (semi) row was pretty taxing, who woulda guessed, as you can probably tell from my musings I had a lot of fun with all of them, the new items are really cool, if I decide it seems like fun I might do one of these for all the collabs in the game or smth (NOT doing every character tho that would fucking suck dm or ask me or smth if you wanna know about a specific character got dam)

#holocure #holy fuck this took forever #now to start working on all cheivos again #I had it at like 70% and then the update came out and I’ve been booted back to 50ish :(

[camellia-thea]

The most recent 69 character questions for Taralin!

9

15

26

38

48

aaaaaaaand

68!

oooh thank you! somewhere between musing, narrative, and my own personal answers here, so the style is wildly all over the place but! taralin. my favourite ball of angst. 

can you tell i have been having esther/taralin thoughts recently? i’ve also been thinking a lot about how the party dynamics have shifted with aisling and rhiann’s joining.

9 - when in their life were they most scared?

if you’d asked taralin this a few months ago, they’d look at you and raise a brow. aiden. the answer was obviously – and almost always – aiden. no matter the question. 

but now? their verbal answer would remain the same. perhaps the moments after, making their deal, realising the gravity of what had occurred. but underneath it, they feel feathers prickling through their skin, and blood and flesh in their mouth. they see paladins, they see their party, they see them injured, and they land. then, they see esther’s face. the fear that gripped them then was something else entirely. not the raw, panic fueled thing that led them running from place to place, nor the sinking, prickling feeling of dread settling in their stomach and prickling up their spine when paired with a familiar look in their lady’s eyes. this was something else. something sharp and cutting, a realisation that they’ve just lost her. and the fear sinking beneath understanding, acceptance even. it’s awful, in that moment. the fear of losing her, knowing they have, and knowing that they never really had her to begin with. it might not have been the most fear they've ever felt, but it was a different kind of fear, and one they never want to feel again. they dream of it now, possibilities where she might not have turned back. might have properly turned away. they wake in her arms, sometimes with feathers, sometimes without, and they breathe. she’s here. she didn’t go. they’re fine. it’s fine. 

they’ll never tell her how much it hurt.

15 - is there something that never fails to make them laugh?

nyral’s clumsiness, for a familiar supposedly meant to be useful, is something taralin treasures. the pseudodragon has never been particularly good at helping in fights – ironic, considering their patron – but afterwards? when taralin’s hands shake and the numbness sinks in? the little creature wanders his way into their lap, and rumbles so much that he startles himself awake. 

26 - what type of person pisses them off?

taralin hates willing ignorance. people who have every opportunity to learn, and choose not to. it rubs them the wrong way, why not learn, if not for knowledge’s sake, then for protection.

38 - do they see themselves as an important part of their party?

taralin sees themself as a valuable liability. someone with knowledge and a willingness to do what the others tend to baulk at. they’re a protector, under it all, and they’d rather die than let one of the party pass in their place; while they’re someone who is always looking out for themself, ready to abandon ship for their own safety, some of the party have wormed their way into their heart, and now? well. they’re a liability in their own right, and if they had to go to save the others? it would be done in a heartbeat. perhaps, at this point, they’d try and take aisling out with them, but they’d leave if they felt like they needed to. being the watcher, a vassal, and knowing that watchers specifically have a tend to… not last, it means that they do have an abundance of exit plans, should they need to go. but they recognise their value to the party, especially with kadana gone. they’re aware of the reality of war, and as much as they value kit, they’re very aware that in some spaces, it’s better if they speak, rather than him. but– well. aisling knows warfare as well as they do, and rhiann has already shown that they have capacity for speechcraft. gex, while lacking in knowledge of the fae, is intelligent, if not worldly -- those in recent days, they're beginning to doubt this assessment -- and kit keeps their allies – and the smallfolk – close in a way that taralin does not, and of course they have the cradle to support them, so perhaps… the party would not feel as many ill effects at taralin disappearing that they initially thought.

48 - do they relate to anyone in their group? conversely, which person do they relate to the least?

it would be wrong to say that taralin doesn’t relate to everyone they travel with, at least in some way. gex’s curiosity, his fear. it sits with them like a stone. true and unyielding, his curiosity is a boon, making way for hubris, and his fear? taralin knows a lot about fear. kit’s naivety reminds them far too much of how they were before everything occurred; they were nowhere near as friendly as him, but they were hopeful and full of life. rhiann’s desperation, hidden as it is, rings true to them as well. their desperate need to protect adda, mirrors their own need to protect kit and gex. their similarities to aisling, however, leave a bad taste in their mouth. they don’t know what happened to aisling, to make her hate so strongly. they know, of course, it was the morrigan, and that it destroyed aisling. the fae do not forget, taralin knows, and they do not forgive. but the morrigan destroyed taralin too, and that knowledge presses like a knife to their throat. but in their similarities, they have their differences too. aisling chose anger, and taralin? well, taralin chose fear. they both have their brands of hostility, of course, but aisling’s is hot and quick to spark, whereas taralin’s runs cold, and they are bitter at their similarities.

68 - where’s their home?

home is a nebulous space for taralin, it has been since they first entered the feywild. but home is the smell of fresh bread, the feeling of sunlight on their skin. it’s a woman, explaining arcane energy, and another explaining how to laminate pastry. it’s a not-quite-cat, curled up on their lap, rumbling his imitation of a purr. it’s fields of wheat, the sound of the sea. standing on a cliff’s edge and seeing chalk walls meet water. home is a metal child, asking to be carried, and a woman’s smile as she sees them lift her. it’s a woman wrapped in starlight, and it’s a bed to come back to. it’s nebulous, but it’s hopeful. home is a space to rest.

#feather speaks #feather answers #anon #ask game #taralin #i am still doing these! if you check out my ask game tag you should find the post! #some of these i'm a little uncertain on but don't worry about it #and hey! ended on a positive note hjkdgfjhkdgf #rare for my Creature Of Pain #yeah no i've been thinking about esther and taralin a lot recently because me as a player wants esther to talk to the party about taralin #taralin *does not* #and the party dynamics shifting have been so stark and interesting and i look forward to watching them grow

[ive-tumbled-down-a-rabbit-hole]

Hot Showers

This gets a little more risqué (nudity mentioned but that's it really) toward the end of the fic than I typically (or ever tbh) have written (from my point of view) so you've been warned. Probably "teen plus" as a result. (I'm not great at warnings/tags so sorry).

Masterlist

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Marinette giggled as she and Roy tinkered with the shower head and box. Their plan was fool proof, no flaws what's so ever. Jason would run out the scalding hot shower straight into Roy’s safe arms and they’d fall in love, then kiss and live happily ever after. That’s how it goes right?

As much as it pained her, to yet again fall for someone who wasn't interested in her, she wouldn't let herself get in the way of his happiness. Roy was her best friend. He deserved happiness. Even if his happiness was with Jason and not her. She got why he loved Jay. Jay was perfect for Roy with his leather, ruggedness, and wicked dark humour. Roy would always be her best buddy with Jay a close second.

It was inevitable that she’d fall for Roy. How could she not fall for the goofball of a roommate. He was charming, caring, chaotic and smart. His humour matched hers as well as he also adored Jagged. He dealt with the admin mistake amazingly as she ended up being placed in the male dorms. She doesn't really regret using Marin instead of Nettie on the forms to shrink her name to fit as she'd never have met the crazy man next to her.

Ok, that might be a slight stretch of the truth given they both had taken the same university course. But she'd never have guaranteed that they'd have worked together.

Also, his looks were nothing to be scoffed at… she's never forgotten bumping (literally) into his toned chest, damp hair and piercing green eyes as he walked out of the bathroom in first year.

She really was a sucker for green eyed Adonises who put her as 'just a good friend'.

"Wha'd'ja think? The mechanism seems ok? It's a little sticky though."

Roy's voice broke through Marinette's musings, giggles and reminiscing of topless moments, knowing he will never be hers. Stealing Roy's hat Marinette to place it on her own head to keep her overgrown fringe out her eyes (she really needed to cut it) she stuck her tongue out to focus on the mechanism Roy referred to.

"Can you grab me a nail file and tweezers Roy? I have an idea on getting it to move smoothly."

Handing Marinette the tools requested, Roy wrapped himself around his roommate, resting his head over her shoulder to watch her tinker with the contraption.

Marinette groaned inside her mind. It was times like this that made it so much harder adoring Roy and not acting on it with his sweet oblivious behaviour.

"It'll work right? This plan is fool proof, right?"

"Yeah yeah, the contraption is perfect. Look, I got it to work without sticking now."

"Nets!! That's not what I meant." Roy hugged her closer, "Course the fucking thing will work. It has us working on it. This stuff is a breeze. I meant, like, Jay will come running into my arms and I can declare my feelings."

"Roy… I love you…" Marinette grimaced internally stating that. Roy will never take her seriously or the true depth it meant with how often she said it, but at least she got to say how she felt even if it was never returned. "I'm $h1t at knowing whether it will work. My dating history and setting up is appalling. I never told the guy in lycée that I liked him. The girls set up loads of ridiculous situations for me to fail at. The only major success I had was setting Al's up with Nino by trapping them in a cage. This fits in with the crazy plans perfectly and it's you. You're not a coward plus how could Jay hate you?"

"Love ya too Nets. Thanks for the prep talk. I can do this. Jay will love it… afterwards."

"As this part is finished, do you want to assemble it together?"

"Yeah yeah, I get ya hint. Get the giant to put the shower together. I got this you little Pixie."

Marinette flipped him off as he let go of her allowing her to stand up and move away from him.

"I'm going to the gym. That way at least I can have a shower without issues. When's Jay over? I can grab take out on the way home."

"In an hour, I think. Have I told you I love ya Nets? Pizza and beer night!!"

"Not enough Roy, not enough… and for that I'm grabbing Chinese"

She stuck her tongue out at Roy and dashed into her room to grab her gym kit.

°~°~°°~°~°°~°~°°~°~°°~°~°°~°~°°~°~°°~°~°

As Jason lounged on the sofa, Roy attempted to watch the trash film he selected nursing the beer he was drinking. There was a reason he let Marinette chose films. She seemed to have an endless knowledge of them and about the directors. Though she said she was just reciting information she’s heard over the years from an obsessed friend and would be in the same boat as him otherwise.

Roy was struggling to keep his cool without Marinette around. He was so close to Jason, he could smell Jason's aftershave and something distractedly Jason. It was sending his mind into over drive. The plan was all set up ready and he just needed to wait. He didn’t like the waiting and now his nerves were all over the place like his mind with how Jason kept looking over at him.

“So what madness were you and Nets working on today?"

Jason’s deep voice caused Roy to jump and his attention to scatter.

"What?! No madness. We've had a quiet day. Nothing dangerous at all."

"Bullshit Roy. Nets tools are still in the living room. They'd be in her room if she wasn't working on something and *you* would have joined in. You're practically joined at the hip."

‘$h1t!’ ran through Roy’s head at Jason’s observation, very little escaped the 'not a bat' attention. "Errr….", Roy eloquently replied. He could hear Marinette’s scolding in the back of his head at his lack of words and distraction technique.

Jason threw a pillow at him, which Roy manages to catch. He resisted the urge to bury his face in the pillow, to look at Jason. Roy felt his ears start to heat up under Jason’s all knowing stare.

"Harper, you're a $h1t liar. I really haven't a clue how Nets hasn't figured you out yet."

Before Jason could continue grilling Roy about his latest project, a loud thumping of what sounded like someone kicking the door.

“Foood!! Nets is home!!” Roy cried jumping over the sofa to let his saviour in, ignoring Jason shaking his head at his behaviour. He finally got what she meant with the nerves she felt before each of her friends' crazy plans. He couldn’t do it. He couldn’t tell his friend about how he fantasised about his thighs. His arms. How he loved and hated the showers at JL post mission. How when they sparred, that one shifted move and it could turn into something... something more.

Roy dragged Nets into the building and manoeuvred her to the kitchen neglecting to help by taking some the tower of food out her hand focusing complete to the panic ringing in his head. “Help me... he’s so fucking cute today.” Roy whispers into her ear.

His roommate and best Wing Girl looked at him with a sigh. “Chill Roy, just chill! The more you work yourself up the worse it’ll be. Forget the future. Focus on food so we can put phase one into action yeah!?”

Roy smiled. He could do this. This was why he adored his Pixie companion. She really was perfect friend. He dragged her into a hug with relief that she was here rushing through him, chuckling at her antics to escape his grasp.

“Grab the plates and make yourself useful instead of smothering me Roy. Jay! You gonna help too?!”

As the three navigated the small kitchen dishing up food. Every time Jason’s hand brushed his, Roy felt his heart flutter. Heat rushed through his body. His nerves were fried by the time they all were seated, from Jason’s heated touch and the desire for more contrasted with Marinette’s soothing balm calming his soul.

°~°~°°~°~°°~°~°°~°~°°~°~°°~°~°°~°~°°~°~°

Jason tried to focus on the food in front of him, but fu©k, it was hard especially with having a few drinks with Roy before Marinette turned up. He might have been harbouring a minor, not so big, little (HUGE) crush on Roy’s roommate and keeping it in check was hard, especially with alcohol. She was hot! Especially with the loose crop top and joggers she was wearing from her post workout. The hint of her abs and wet hair dampening the white top gave him all the wrong ideas. Her morbid humour match is his dark one and her love for rock music sold it for him. Roy was a strong man to be able to resist her, that is if he was resisting… with how Roy draped and snuggled close to her it was hard to tell.

Jason’s issue was he wasn’t sure if Roy was overprotective and physical close of Nets due to seeing her as a little sister or there was something more was under lying. He’d seen the pair try to hide their blushes. Their cosiness and whispered conversations. The fact Roy was often tactile with him made it harder to work out as maybe that was just Roy with his best friend's. With his attempts to find out Roy’s affections, it felt like getting a straight answer from B was easier. Roy always responded with lots vague responses and misdirection.

It was driving him insane, Jason desperately wanted to know where Roy stood so he knew whether it was green to maybe… possibly… make a move on Nets… without violence form Roy.

Lost in his own musings as Nets and Roy chatted animatedly about a potential 'illegal' modification to their bikes Jason didn't notice the downpour of beer which flew his way.

"WHAT THE FU¢K NETS?!?!!"

Jason jumped out of his seat as beer drained down his top onto his jeans. Roy rushed to pat him dry with napkins he'd grabbed, red faced to match his hair as he pat down the beer from Jason's head. Nets looked at him with her soulful doe eyes that peered out partially hidden by her lashes and overgrown fringe.

"$h1t!! Mon dieu!! I'm *so so* sorry Jay!"

With a pout and sorryful expression she looked up at him, melting his anger with her innocent look.

"It was an accident. I really didn't mean for that to happen. Are you ok? Did ya want a shower?? I'm *sure* Roy has some spare clothes he can loan you?"

She spoke with such a saccharine voice that shivers went down Jason's spine and whatever anger that remained disappeared.

"Errr, Yeah! Look, I'll, I'll go grab some spare clothes and towel for ya Jay."

Roy gulped as he exited the room to get the items leaving Jason suddenly feeling flustered, standing in wet clothes that clang to his body, with only Marinette left in the room.

"I'll just, I'll go be in the bathroom if Roy asks."

Marinette sent him a beguiling smile as he wanders out the room.

°~°~°°~°~°°~°~°°~°~°°~°~°°~°~°°~°~°°~°~°

Screams echo the apartment as Jason dashes out the bathroom flames licking behind him as he runs towards Roy who had grabbed a fire extinguisher and covers him in the water before panicking as saw the shower curtain was still alight.

"Arghhhhhhhhhhh!!! Nets! NETS!!! THE BATHROOM IS ON FIRE!!"

Marinette quickly comes into the hallway to find Jason naked, Roy hopping foot to foot holding the fire extinguisher and not doing anything. Grabbing the item off the flapping man and ignoring the nakedness of the other, Marinette tackled the flames and quickly put them out. Thankfully it wasn't as bad as she thought and easy to get under control. Before turning to Roy and Jason raising her eyebrow at the pair while chucking a towel at Jason.

"You b@$t@rd!! What in hell?! what you thinking Roy?!?! What was that?!"

"I'd call it a hot shower … "

Marinette gave Roy a pointed look at that comment.

"A hot shower Roy?! Where was the shower bit!"

"I might have forgotten to reattach the water element…"

"Might?!?! Might?!?!"

Jason felt the green fire in him growing as he stepped closer and closer to Roy. His friend was a madman. He was bonkers. He was going to kill him. Whether the him being Roy or himself he wasn't sure.

Roy suddenly grabbed Jason's shoulders, dragging him closer and kissed him. Roy poured all his affections into a heated kiss, hoping Jason would understand what he was trying to say. Jason paused in shock. That… that wasn't what he was expecting. His eyes blew wide as he processed what was happening. He saw Marinette give a bittersweet smile at the pair before she turned and left them to it as she re-entered the living room. His attention snapped back to Roy as he quickly let go to step back.

"Ummm, I like you… a lot… this was an attempt to ummm well… kick start telling you maybe…"

Roy's face was flushed vibrant red. Partly due to finally kissing his crush, partly from admitting his feelings and a lot due to remembering Jason before the kiss was angry and likely to kill him for the flamethrower shower and that he had kissed him unasked plus on top of that Jason was still in the hallway in only a towel.

"You like me?!?! Me?!?! What about Nets?!?! I thought you liked her … how can you not like her. She's a walking goddess?"

"Yeah I like you, like really like you…why wouldn't I? and Nets well, I love her too, but you're you Jay. I've liked you since forever."

Jason stared at his friend semi gormlessly, blinking slowly, as he tried to understand what was happening. His friend. His best friend. Who had just tried to kill him via fire. Had just said he liked him. Liked him more than a best friend. Roy had just kissed him. Given it was mostly one side, it still managed to be a decent kiss. Roy said he loved Nets, but from what he said it implied he loved him, HIM, more.

Did he like Roy like that? Jason knew he liked Nets but Roy was something he never considered...

"I err.. $h1t I fu¢ked this up. Forget it. I made this awkward. We can stay mates Jay….this never happened 'i can't believe I let Nets talk me into this'"

Jason grabbed Roy face in both hands and kissed him back heatedly, surprising Roy causing an ‘eeeps’ to escape his mouth. Especially as Jason now had his towel in his hand at Roy's face, not around his waist and his tongue requested to entry to his mouth. A second later Roy melted into Jason’s grasp, memorising the feeling he’d longed for. Moments later came too soon for Roy’s liking, as they slowly broke away to breathe again, Jason stared deeply into Roy’s eyes.

"Do you like like Nets? Be honest with me Roy!"

"I guess…"

"Not guess. Yes or no?"

"Yea…"

"Awesome. Ditto. I never considered you in the equation before. Always Nets but maybe… maybe do you think… did you want…?"

It was Roy's turn to look at Jason like he was the madman. Maybe he was mad, he was standing in his hallway, after almost being burnt, naked. He contemplated what Jason was trying to say and his eyes glimmered in understanding finally. God damn bats being as clear as mud with their emotions.

"Yeah," Roy whispered out, "yeah that sounds good. Shall we go ask her?"

Grabbing Jason's hand, the pair walked back into the living space to find Marinette tidying the mess they had made earlier. She looked up and squawked at the sight of Jason still wearing nothing as she threw a cushion at him.

"Clothes, Jason, clothes!!! Oh kwami's help me!"

Her face was brilliant red as she gazed up at the ceiling to avoid looking at the muscular men before her.

"Cack! One mo, Roy!"

Jason ran out of the room to put something on… anything… other than the towel which was lying on the floor in the hallway.

"So it went well then Roy?"

"Yeah Nets it went good."

"I'm so happy for you. I knew he couldn't resist you. So proud you did it. However unconventionally."

"About that…"

Marinette paused and finally looked at Roy standing awkward in their home. She tilted her head in confusion as to what Roy was worried about as he nervously fiddles with his cap. She walked up to him and brought him to the sofa to sit down.

"Talk to me Roy. What's wrong? I'd thought you'd be happy. This is what you wanted right? I didn't push you into something you weren't ready for, did I? Oh god I did, didn't I! I'm so sorry Roy. I'll take the blame. Don't worry we can fix this."

"What no!!! That's not it Nets. Promise."

Jason finally rejoined them, wearing a pair of Roy's shorts and a t-shirt that was a size too tight. Which left nothing to the imagination causing a flustered look dance across Roy's face.

"Nets," Jason sat beside her, and not Roy, adding to her confusion. "Can you answer this honestly this question? Please..." Marinette slowly nodded hesitantly, shifting to look at Jason, unsure what was happening with her friends. Jason gently took her hand and asked, "Do you like like Roy?"

The new blush that rushed to her face answered the question really, but Jason waited for the woman to regain her senses and answer him. Ducking behind her hair Marinette nodded at Jason. Roy hand darted up, before his mind had caught up, too tucked some of her hair behind her ear.

"Oh Nets… I'm an idiot. A major idiot."

Roy pulled her close to rest his forehead against hers, leaving Jason stroking the back of her hand.

"Nets, I adore you too." He kissed the tip of her nose, "Can you answer my question now. Do you feel the same way about Jay?"

"Wha…" she pulled away from Roy to look at the men before her, glancing between them like they were insane.

"I like you, Nets. God's know I like you, since I met you and your sadistic humour at Roy's misfortune. But I think l like Roy too. Roy well, the dense tool says he likes me, but I've seen the looks he's given you too. I'm pretty sure the feelings were mutual, just he never entertained it."

"Thanks Jay!" Roy grumbled before grabbing Marinette's other hand and kissed her fingers. "Did you wanna try with us?"

Roy looked at her earnestly. Hoping. Wishing she said yes. Her large, pretty eyes gazed into his, then to Jays. Slowly she licked her lips before opening her mouth.

"Just so I'm clear. You both want to date each other. But you also want to date me??"

Roy beamed at her, "Yes!" He leant forward and gently kissed her lips, savouring the taste compared to his heated, frantic outpouring with Jason.

"Dude! She didn't say yes. She just clarified what you were saying!" Jason exclaimed facepalming at his ?boyfriends? enthusiasm.

Roy quickly pulled back, "Oh, ooops!", only to witness Marinette looking up at Jason with wide eyes as if asking a silent question from him to nod in response. Carefully, as if uncertain of what will happen, Marinette kisses Jason slowly, easing into it before retreating. Shyly, as if she hadn't just kissed the pair, she smiles coyly at them.

"This wasn't the outcome I was expecting from this evening, but, I'd quite like to give it a go."

#maribat #maribat au #ml crossover #dc x mlb #ml x dc #dc x ml #mlb x dc #jasonette #roynette #marinetteXjasonXroy #poly #semi risqué writing #jasonXmarinette #marinetteXjason #marinetteXroy #royXmarinette #maribatJasonXroy #maribatRoyXjason #JayRoyNette

[boydiisaster]

It's so awesome there's blogs like yours out there trying to provide content for GN and Male fans. It's so hard to find anything even GN, and as a nonbinary person I just want you to know how much it's appreciated! If you're okay with taking requests right now, I have an Obey Me one? Do you have any headcanons on a poly/throuple relationship between a GN MC, Satan, and Solomon? Those two are surprisingly good friends in canon and alike in a lot of ways, I love them both so much!

throuple satan and solomon headcanons

reader: gender neutral, they/them pronouns

tw/cw: a bit of spoilers and fighting/blood mentions

author's note: AWW YOU'RE GONNA MAKE ME CRY YOU'RE SO NICE, ANON :,) i'm trying my hardest to provide more content for other male and gender neutral readers out there, so i really hope that what i write is enjoyable for yall <33 also i haven't the slightest idea of satan and solomon's canon relationship because i'm only at like lesson 30 smth and don't keep up with my messages so i just pulled most of their dynamic for this out of my ass ( ._.)

It was like a cat just met a dog when Satan and Solomon started dating. They have similarities, sure, but whereas Satan is cold and calculated with his spells, plans, and pranks, it's as if Solomon doesn't think. Like, ever.

How was someone so smart so insufferably stupid at the same time? It's as if Satan is his babysitter more than he's his boyfriend.

Oh god and when Solomon ropes you into doing something with him-

"I hate you both," Satan grumbles, checking your temperature and seeing how it's well above the normal temperature for humans. "Solomon, you can't just drag MC on all your dangerous adventures. They're much more human than you are."

"Just because I accidentally made a spell that cursed me with immortality doesn't mean I'm any less human than they are." Solomon crosses his arms at his boyfriend's hurtful words. "Besides, MC wanted to come with me. Isn't that right, MC?"

You didn't speak. That was probably because you had passed out from how incredibly fatigued you were. Your skin was sticky and noticeably sweaty, eyes closed shut while letting out painful whimpers.

"Tell me again just what happened to them?" Satan groans as he opens a spell book. God knows where he got it. He did that a lot. He was like a video game character or something the way he'd just pull books or spell jars from out his ass. He was always the one Mammon would ask for a pencil, because hell he had like hundreds on him at all times.

"Well," Solomon cheekily smiles and scratches the back of his neck. "We went looking for some herbs for a new spell I concocted."

"Uh huh?"

"And MC sort of... fell."

"What did they fall on, Solomon?"

Said man falls silent. "Solomon?" Satan drags out his lover's name, threatening him, to which all Solomon can do is smile again, this time more nervous.

"They kind of, maybe, fell into a bush of what could have been poisonous flowers...."

"What kind of poisonous flowers, Solomon?" Satan glares at him.

Solomon thinks for a moment, then clasps his hands together. "Let's just say that if we don't get Diavolo or Lucifer in the next," he looks toward a clock, "fifteen or so minutes, MC might fall asleep for probably a whole millennium."

That earns the sorcerer a big thwack to the back of his head by Satan's spell book.

That was probably the first major incident where you were dragged into Solomon's dangerous plans, but it certainly wasn't the last. Most of the time you either ended up with several scrapes or bruises, things Satan or Solomon could easily patch up on their own. But sometimes you'd come back missing a shirt or as a cat.

(It's hard for Satan to be mad at Solomon for accidentally turning you into a cat, but he manages it because you were furious.)

... You were a really cute cat though, MC.

A cat was frantically trying to climb up Satan's pant leg. He was out in the garden tending to his flowers when a kitty he'd never seen before made their way through the bushes and crashed into his leg.

"Hello little one," he smiled at the cat. "Are you lost?"

The cat let out a pitiful wail and latched themselves onto Satan's leg. Satan frowned a bit and started to get worried. "Are you hurt? What's wrong?"

He picked up the cat to examine them. They were a cute little thing with [eye color] eyes and a sleek fur coat. Satan couldn't see anything physically wrong with them. Their paws looked fine, and there was no blood anywhere.

"Did you lose your mom? Maybe your kitten?" he began to muse, then Solomon exploded through the bushes looking frantic as ever.

"Have you seen a cat?" he gasped for air. "About this tall, [eye color] eyes, clearly upset?"

"You mean this one?" Satan held up the cat he found.

"Yes! Give them here-"

The cat hissed and clawed at Solomon's hand, burying themselves further into Satan's grasp. They growled, then looked toward Satan to let out another pitiful whine.

"MC, I'm sorry! I didn't mean to!" Solomon cried.

The cat hissed again.

"I'm sorry, did you just say MC?"

Solomon stiffened. He started to laugh nervously, fiddling with his cuffs. "Uh... would you break up with me if I told you I turned our darling MC into a tiny cat...? If so then no, I didn't say MC."

"You did what?!"

"Oh would you look at the time! I have a meeting with Lord Diavolo I must attend to right now, goodbye Satan, I love you!"

And then Solomon left, leaving Satan to fix whatever spell he put on their partner by himself. Satan wasn't angry about it, but the look of pure rage on your little furry face was enough to let Satan know that if he kept you as a cat for a moment longer you'd raise hell upon everyone in the vicinity.

Having a pact with a demon means that pretty much everything you do is shared with said demon. You feel emotions stronger, god forbid if you feel their specific emotions. You could be angry at Mammon for swiping a bag of candy you bought for yourself, but you act as if Mammon robbed you of every last thing you had just because of the pact you share with Satan. He feels awful about that, even though you reassure him time and time again that:

1.) It's not his fault, and

2.) You wanted a pact with him

Even so, please give Satan cuddles and kisses after he gets all sulky. He acts composed, but on the inside he's so incredibly self-conscious of both his sin and his pact with you.

"You need to be more careful," Satan quietly mused as he bandaged your hurt hands and face. You had gotten into a fight at school because a demon shoved you, and now you were currently inside Satan's room, getting blood all over his pretty carpet.

"I know," you softly sighed and hissed once the rubbing alcohol came into contact with the cuts on your face. "I just, I don't know. It set me off for some reason."

Your boyfriend hesitated for a moment, then applied a bandage to your cheek. "It's because of the pact."

"Satan-"

"You know I'm right, MC." Satan didn't look at you when he talked. Instead he looked at his lap, which had the first aid kit he was using to fix you up in it. "I know I talk about this a lot but... I am truly sorry for doing this to you."

"Hey," you cupped his cheek. "It's not your fault. I can learn to live with this. I learnt to handle my greed, envy, and gluttony when I built pacts with your brothers, right?"

"You shouldn't have to though. Maybe it's best if I-"

You silently kissed him. It was a bittersweet kiss, one filled with love yet unspeakable sadness and hurt. Satan was so self-conscious of his sin, yet you loved him still anyway. You wished he could see that.

"Don't finish that thought," you whispered as you pulled away. Resting your forehead against his, you continued. "I love you. Despite your sin, despite how you were born, despite everything; I love you. I chose you, and I wanted a pact with you." You smiled, and Satan couldn't help but blush at your next sentence.

"You silly demon. You really can't see how amazing you are, huh? It's okay though, because both me and Solomon will always be here to remind you."

Solomon touches all your pact marks constantly. When you take off your shirt it's hard to stop him from touching Leviathan's mark located directly on your back. He's always rubbing his fingers over Beelzebub's symbol on your stomach, always outlining Mammon's mark on your wrist. Sometimes he kisses Belphegor's symbol on your throat. When meeting your eyes, he never fails to stare into the one that holds Lucifer's mark, and even though you cover your thighs almost all the time, it's like Solomon can tell where Asmodeus's mark is. It's his favorite place on your thigh to touch.

You sighed whenever you felt Solomon's lips touch the small of your back. A smile made its way onto your own lips as you giggled.

"I didn't expect Satan to place his mark somewhere so... subtle," he admitted as he popped up to press a kiss to your cheek.

You looked at him out of the corner of your eye. He was playing with your wrist again, looking at the symbol of greed that adorns your skin.

"Solomon," you started.

Your lover hummed. You could tell he was beginning to grow drowsy. His eyes were closed and his movements slowed.

"Are you... jealous?"

That woke him up. He made you face him, and the expression he wore was unreadable. It worried you. Maybe you shouldn't have said that.

"I just mean, like," you grew embarrassed. "Um... you're always touching my pact marks, or always looking at them, and I don't know. Are you mad at me for them?"

The sorcerer gently grasped your hands. His fingers were weirdly soft considering how much he uses them. He sat there for a moment, just running his thumbs over your palms before speaking.

"I am a little," he admitted. "But I'm not mad at you. If anything I'm proud."

You smiled a bit. It was a lopsided and awkward sort of smile, but to Solomon it was the most beautiful thing in the world, as cheesy as that sounded.. He loves seeing his partners happy. He loves seeing you happy.

"You're much stronger than you think," Solomon continued. "Being able to hold seven different pact marks, ones belonging to Avatars, as a human with no sort of prior knowledge on magic?" He beamed. "You're incredible."

That only embarrassed you more. You groaned a bit and tried swatting Solomon away to hide your face, but your lover only pulled you in for a short yet loving kiss.

"You're cute, you know that?"

"You're cuter," you retorted. Solomon just smiled.

"Whatever helps you sleep at night, dear. Speaking of which," he leaned back on your bed and made grabby hands at you, indicating that he wanted you to lay next to him. "I'm tired. Cuddle me."

"So needy," you joked, but instantly complied to Solomon's request. He was never like this in public. It was nice seeing him so open and vulnerable... and cute.

#THANK YOU SM FOR CLARIFYING YOUR HEADCANON REQUEST!! #i'm not poly myself so i never know if i should like- #make the feeling of romantic love be mutual between every person in the relationship? #or just have the two characters love the same person and not each other [weep] #i always feel like im disappointing the poly readers out there writing stuff that way #anywho tho i hope you enjoyed this!! it was a blast to write <3 #obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me solomon #obey me satan #solomon obey me #satan obey me #solomon x reader #satan x reader #solomon x gn reader #satan x gn reader #obey me x gn!reader #obey me x gender neutral reader #ethan.writes

[watercolorfreckles]

Thanks for the Ride - Part 2

Part 1 Here

TW: asthma attack, slight angst, mention of blood and sc*rs

((Civilian’s name is now Kaira. Villain doesn’t have one yet.))

Kaira pushed open her apartment door and stepped inside. A flurry of snowflakes gusted in after her, dusting the welcome mat in her entryway as she shoved the door shut. She shivered and slid her boots off, shrugging off her coat next and hanging it up. She leaned heavily against the door to catch her breath, digging her inhaler out of her pocket and taking two puffs.

It had been a month since the incident, and she was left without a vehicle right as the weather turned frigid and biting. Just her luck, as well, that cold air triggers asthma. Kaira coughed and wheezed her way to the kitchen, putting the kettle on to make herself some eucalyptus tea. Her doctor had recently told her that it might help alleviate some of her symptoms. Still struggling to breathe, she dropped herself into a chair at the kitchen table, squeezing her eyes shut. She tucked the inhaler back into her pocket without opening her eyes.

Kaira stayed there until the kettle squealed, forcing her lead-heavy limbs to get up and finish making her tea. She took a few sips though they scalded on the way down, and bent down to scoop some of her cat’s food into her bowl. She coughed and took another sip of tea, shaking the bowl a bit as she ventured further into the apartment. “Missy! Here, kitty.”

No response. That’s odd… Her stomach sank as she realized the tv was on in her bedroom. The muffled chatter and buzz were unmistakable. Had she forgotten to turn it off before going to work? 

She padded across the space, inching closer to the bedroom--though it was barely any use trying to be quiet. The ragged wheezing noises probably gave her away rather unceremoniously. Finally approaching the door and just about to cross the threshold, her cat hopped down in front of her, startling a yelp out of Kaira. The mug and food bowl in her hands crashed to the floor.

Kaira slapped a hand over her face, heart pounding all over again. “Missy. What did I do to deserve that?” she mused between strained breaths. 

She picked the remote up off of the dresser, lifting it to turn the screen off when she noticed what was playing on the news, and listened. More about the villain. The media coverage was constant, barely wavering since the villain’s “death” a month prior. The city clung to the hero’s victory, celebrating with parties and rallies and parades and barbeques. “Superhero finally managed to inject Supervillain with a revolutionary new toxic serum that drained his powers away and rendered him helpless. Superhero triumphed over the monster and fulfilled his duty in keeping our city safe! The crime rate perpetrated by powered individuals has decreased significantly as they all now live in fear of the hero’s new bioweapon. Let’s hope they stay underground where they belong.”

“The thing about Hero’s little serum,” a second voice cut through the silence, making Kaira jump and whirl around, “is that its effects are temporary. Poison a villain, take his powers, incapacitate him, kill him while he’s down. It’s quite the cowardly approach, don’t you agree, Kaira?”

Kaira froze in place like prey, staring at the villain sprawled out casually on her bed. He lifted a hand and lightning crackled over his palm like a second skin. Her mouth had gone unbearably dry and all she could do was stare and try to squash down the harsh rasps of her wheezing.

Villain flashed a smile, looking thoroughly pleased with himself as he sat up, leisurely. “Your firstborn and I have gotten acquainted.” He wiggled his fingers and made kissy sounds, drawing the orange tabby closer to him.

Kaira inhaled sharply and took a step closer, freezing again at the look Villain cut her as he scooped Missy into his lap. “Do you truly think I would harm your cat?” He tsked. “You must truly think me a monster.”

She swallowed again but it did nothing to aid the dryness scratching her throat. “How-How do you know where I live?” she whispered.

Villain stroked Missy’s back, who purred and curled up on his lap. “You had some bills in your glove compartment--your insurance is overdue, by the way. You might want to pay that.” His lip curled in a teasing smile though his gaze rested intent and unwavering upon her.

Panicked, she fished her inhaler out of her pocket without taking her eyes off of him, inhaling a third puff. “I...I haven’t told anyone about you. I swear I haven’t. I-I didn’t even want to raise questions about where you left me, so...I didn’t call a cab until I, um, walked back to the main road. No-Nobody knows what happened, or that you’re alive, I promise.”

The villain hummed, straightening all the way. 

Kaira’s gaze flicked down to his torso where she could see a deep red seeping through his shirt. “You’re...bleeding.”

“And you’re the only one who knows I’m alive, so. Do be a dear and bring me a first aid kit?” His smile widened, all amusement for now.

Kaira blanched and stepped toward the door when Villain lifted a finger to halt her. “Ah-ah, better have you toss your phone over to me first. The best relationships are built on trust, you know?” he purred, blatantly relishing in the glow of pink that spread over Kaira’s freckled cheeks.

She pulled her cellphone out of her other pocket and tossed it onto the bed, waiting for his nod of approval before staggering wide-eyed into the kitchen to fetch her first aid kit.

Oh my gods, oh my gods, the villain is in my house, oh my gods…

Kaira’s hands shook as she returned, easing herself lightly onto the edge of the bed beside him. She gingerly lifted her cat off of him and set her back onto the floor. “You’re bleeding on my bed,” she murmured. She carefully reached for his shirt and flushed red. “Um...can I?”

The villain grinned, wolfish. “Wishing to undress me so soon? By all means.”

Kaira spluttered, floundering briefly before reaching forward again, unbuttoning the bottom half of his shirt. No need to expose more of his chest than necessary, especially after that comment. Wow, he has a lot of scars…

She traced a finger featherlight over one of the pale slices of skin. When she realized what she was doing, her gaze snapped up to meet his. His laser focus made her feel like a bug splayed on a corkboard. “S-Sorry....” She looked away and opened up the first aid kit and gently examined his bloody wounds. “It...looks like you need stitches...is that okay?”

“Ah, what’s a couple more scars. Just clean them and bandage me up.” Kaira could feel the sudden electricity sparking the air as the hair on her neck stood on end. He smiled prettily, though his eyes were sharper, edging on dangerous. “Please.”

Kaira nodded quickly. “O-Okay, yes. Sure. No need to get, um...zappy.” She smoothed down a few pieces of hair that had been suspended by the static thick in the air like smoke. The energy released suddenly once she agreed, expelling like a popped balloon.

She released a breath through her teeth and got to work with trembling hands. “If nobody knows you’re alive, then who hurt you?”

Kaira jumped as the villain brushed a stray lock of hair out of her face. “Sorry, dear, I don’t kiss and tell.”

Her face burned all over again and she avoided his gaze, focusing on the task at hand. When she was done, the villain abruptly stood and crowded close, stealing the breath from her lungs.

Villain bracketed her in place with an arm against the bed on each side of her. “Thanks for the patch job.” He flashed another predatory smile, eyes twinkling, and dangled her car keys in front of her face. “Care to give me another ride, dear?”

Part 3

Thank you for reading!

Tiny taglist:  @writing-on-the-wahl , @ vlerlove , @valiantlytransparentwhispers. If anyone wants to be added, let me know :) 

#writing #creative writing #civillian x villain #hero x villain #writing snippet #flash fiction #my writing #supervillain

[idreamofplaid]

Whiskey and a Cabin

Square Filled: Skinny Dipping for @spnkinkbingo; Free Space for @spnfluffbingo; In Vino Veritas for @spndeanbingo

Characters: Dean x Reader; Sam mentioned

Rating: Explicit

Summary: The right mood, the right place, the right woman, and some whiskey help Dean realize the truth about what he wants. 

Word Count: 3628

A/N: It took me weeks to deliver the fluffy Dean smut I promised to everyone who voted for it. Life intervened. My muse left, and then she returned. So, here it is.

Whiskey is not my friend. I mean, yeah it’s gotten me through some tough spots. Hell trauma, an apocalypse or two, and boatloads of guilt. But last night, it turned on me.

This wasn’t the first time you helped Sam and me on a case. You’re the best damn psychic I’ve ever seen, even better than Pamela. You’d think I’d learn after what happened to her, but there’s no denying your kind of skills are helpful.

It was just a celebration of the end of another case and everybody still alive. That’s all. A few beers that turned into a few shots. Sam bowed out, like he usually does, after a couple of drinks. I should have known when I gave him the car keys, and sent him back to the motel, that I’d wake up in your bed. Hell, who am I fucking kidding? I did know. I knew, and it’s exactly what I wanted. 

This is the hard part. It’s time to leave town, and I don’t know when I’ll see you again. This could have happened before. I’m surprised it didn’t. Well, I’m surprised I didn’t try. I’ve gotten hard more than once watching you move, and thinking about the way you moved with me last night is making me hard again. 

I can’t do this. I can’t think about wanting to see you again. I can’t think about those sounds you made while I was buried deep inside you, and your body was tightening around my cock milking every single drop out of it. 

I stuff my hands in my pockets, and my fingers hit my cell phone. Damn it. I at least want to hear you again, maybe set something up for the next time I’m in town. I scroll through my list of contacts and stop when I get to your name. My thumb hovers over it, and I remember the way your hair smells like strawberries and flowers. I tap the phone against my forehead a couple of times. 

What the hell am I doing? My life is on the road with Sam killing monsters. There’s no room in that for a girlfriend. What woman in her right mind would sign up for that? I fling my cell phone on the bed and get up to finish packing. 

I’m shoving my shaving kit into my duffle when there’s a knock at the door. I zip my bag up, roll my eyes, and head for the door. “C’mon, man, you gotta do better than this. You’re slippin’ Sa…”

My mouth probably fell open. I’m pretty sure it did. It’s not my brother standing there; it’s you, and you walked into the room like you belonged there, like you’d been invited. I mean I would have asked you in, but….you were already there.

“Don’t look so surprised, Dean.” You got right up next to me, so close I could smell the sweet fragrance of your skin.

I watched you run your fingers straight up the center of my chest and play with the top button on my shirt before you let it go and dropped your hand. “Did you think I was just going to let you leave without even a good-bye after last night? And I know you would have. Don’t try to deny it. I’ve known you too long.”

I didn’t know what to say. Words usually just roll out of my mouth around women. Sometimes it’s too easy, but I had no idea what the hell to say to you. I couldn’t just stand there looking like an idiot though. I didn’t want you to think I was dumb.

I ran my hand through the hair at the back of my neck. “I wasn’t gonna just...leave. I was about to call you.” You smiled at me, nodding your head in that silent “Uh, huh. Right.” kinda way. “I was, Y/N..because I want to see you again.”

You sat down on the bed next to my duffle, looked at it and ran your hand over the canvas. When you turned back to look at me again, you had that irresistible flirty smile on your face. “Are you saying that because I took advantage of you last night, Dean?”

I swear I felt the beginning of a blush making my cheeks warm. “You...you didn’t…’take advantage’ of me, Y/N.” If there was anything left that I could have pretended to pack, I would have, just to give my hands something to do, but you were too close to the bag.

Last night was a little hazy, but I remembered all of it. I could pretend I didn’t remember, but I doubt you’d let me get away with that, and I don’t want to. I don’t want to pretend that things weren’t the way they were between us, like I wasn’t the happiest I’ve been in a long time. Maybe it was the happiest I’ve been ever.

There was no flame burning in the fireplace, but the logs were still there. We were deep enough into spring that it wasn’t cold enough for a fire anymore, but it was still nice sitting on the floor in front of it with you. The logs might not be burning,  but I could smell the earthiness of the hickory. I liked it. It made this place you’ve created for yourself seem even more like a home somehow.

You poured more whiskey into my glass, and the bottle clinked when it touched the rim. The sound seemed almost festive, if those kinds of things happened in my life. For me, it was a little sad. It reminded me I didn’t have moments like that, couldn’t have them.

I let my mind wander for a second, longer than I should have. You looked so pretty sitting there on that rug that I know you picked out special just for this spot, just so the floor wouldn’t be bare. Uncovered floors felt temporary. They were as is. Nothing about them said “I’m going to stay here. This is my home.”

Being in a place that felt like this, like it had some roots, and being here with you, was making me feel things I usually kept buried deeper than the bones in the graves me and Sam dug up, but I couldn’t salt and burn this feeling away.

I should have stopped drinking, but it felt so good being here with you. It felt comfortable, and all those things together were enough to get me to start talking. You asked an open ended question, the kind I usually deflect in a heartbeat, but I didn’t this time.

“What are you thinking, Dean?” I watched your lips close around your glass as you took another sip of your whiskey. It was the Crown Royal kind you like with some flavor in it, but I didn’t even care that it was something I’d never drink, and why do I remember the kind of whiskey you like?

“Dean?” You were smiling at me and I was way too lost in this moment for my own good. “I asked you what you’re thinking”

I smiled back at you. It felt good to be smiling, for real, not pretending to be okay or trying to be funny to make myself think I was okay. This really felt good. “This is nice.”

It wasn’t the most original thing I’d ever said, but it was true. The next thing I said was better. It was so much better. I opened up that vault inside me where I keep my more complicated life feelings locked up and let them pour out.

“You’ve really made something for yourself here, Y/N. It’s the kind of place a  guy could picture himself staying for awhile.” You didn’t say anything. If you had, that might have stopped my grand confession, but you didn’t; and I kept going.

“I think about being somewhere like this, a lot.  I think about having a home and somebody to share it with. Somebody like you.” My eyes found yours, and for the first time I noticed just how pretty they are. I mean, I knew. You’re a beautiful woman, but I don’t think I’d ever seen you before like this. You weren’t just a potential one night thing, or at best a string of nights. 

I’d never thought before about waking up beside you for something really wild, like a whole week, because I was never anywhere long enough for that, much less something, permanent. And I knew, even though I never admitted it, that permanent was something I wanted. It was something I wanted, and right now you were making me ache for it.

You put down your glass and scooted closer to me. The way you were biting yur bottom lip made me want to taste it.

I tasted your lips last night and most of the rest of your body too. The memory of just how sweet you are is still on my tongue if I think about it, and it makes my mouth water wanting more of you.

I swear you can read my mind. That look in your eye, it’s like you know what I’m thinking. Not that it’s all that hard to figure out. I hope you’re remembering last night the way I do.

You lean over to the nightstand between the two beds, open the drawer, and pull out the motel’s notepad along with the pen they provided. Then you start to write something on the top sheet. That’s one of the things about you that makes me absolutely crave you; I never know what you’re going to do next.

I move a little closer, trying to see what you’re writing. Finally, I give up and ask, “Who’s the note for?”

You keep on writing while you answer me. “It’s for Sam, so he knows I’ve taken his brother for a couple of days.”

When you finish writing, you hold the pen and notepad out to me. “Now, tell him you’ll see him back at the bunker.”

I look at the page and what you’d written there. “Sam, Dean’s going to be staying with me for the weekend. Don’t worry. He’ll be well taken care of.” Y/N.

That last sentence was making my cock twitch. I took the pen and wrote: See you back at the bunker, Sammy.

You tore the sheet off the pad of paper and put it on top of the table where Sam would be sure to see it. We both knew it was rare for my little brother to miss anything. I stood there not moving, a little in disbelief about what was happening.

The smile on your face was indulgent and a little amused. You were enjoying this, enjoying me not quite knowing what to do. You closed your hand around my chin, fingers on each side of my face, and kissed me. I could still feel the warmth of your mouth on mine after you pulled away.

You gave my ass a pat as you walked by me on your way to the door and said, “C’mon, lover, I’ve got plans for you.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Your house is off the main road, surrounded by trees with a lake out back. It’s a cabin, but not like any cabin I’ve ever been in before. You’ve got a real kitchen with real cabinets, instead of rough shelves some hunter nailed to the wall just to be functional. There’s a place to eat in the kitchen too. As in, there’s an actual table where you have home cooked meals, instead of something just dumped out of a can.

Your bed is like a dream. You don’t sleep on cheap motel sheets that can be more accurately described using the word threadbare than thread count. Add you, naked and beautiful, to the mix; and it’s better than a dream.

I’m still lost in memories and possibilities of what we could have here together when you walk up behind me, put your arms around me, and rest your hands flat on my chest. I feel you lay your cheek against my back for a few seconds before you turn your head and put a kiss on my shoulder blade.

I turn in your arms and pull you up against me; it feels like you’re even closer than when you were behind me. Maybe because my cock is more than a little interested in resuming last night’s activities when it’s pushed into you like this. I lean down to kiss you, knowing exactly where I want this to go.

The way you kiss me is warm and soft, but there’s fire behind it. You’re everything I want, even the things I don’t let myself think about. Sex is the easy part, but you make me feel. You make me want to hold you always, and that’s a dangerous thought.

You’re the first to break the kiss and take my hand in yours. “C’mon, Dean. I didn’t get to show you the deck last night.”

I follow you outside, and the view out there is unbelievable. It’s hard to believe you live here; you get to see this every day. This is your life.

Your hand is still in mine, and I can picture us sitting there on your deck, sipping a couple of beers and watching the sun go down. Something else is on your mind though, and I don’t have the first objection to that.

You push my flannel back off my shoulders and drag it down my arms. It falls to the wooden floor behind me. You’re looking me up and down, making a big show of licking your lips.

“You’re wearing too many clothes, Dean.” You pull at the front of my t-shirt, and I get the hint. I strip out of it, and you make a point of running your eyes over my naked chest. “Still too many clothes.” You say it with a certain gleam in your eye that I’ve seen there before.

I look around, feeling self conscious, like I’m expecting people to appear out of the trees. There’s nothing but pines and water. This is a private show.

I take off everything I’m wearing until there’s not a stitch left on my body. You run your hand down my side. As it gets lower, you move it around to my back so you can cup my ass and squeeze.

My body likes that. It likes that a lot. “Are we going to do this right here?” I ask you.

“Yes, Dean, we absolutely are.” You bite your bottom lip. You’re being all flirty and seductive with me, and I love it. Your teeth let go of your lip, and your tease your fingertips across my chest. “Just not yet,” you say.

I watch you taking your clothes off while my cock gets harder. You’re going to make me wait, and that’s hot. I’ll wait to come for you. I can’t believe I just said that, even in my own head.

You take my hand and lead me down the wooden steps of the deck. When my toes hit the grass, it feels good; but not as good as you look. Your hips curve just right, and your ass is so full and round; I can’t wait to get my hands on it. The way you walk, almost like you’re drifting over the ground, is so graceful. Fuck, but you are beautiful.

Just watching you has made me completely hard by the time we get to the lake, and I follow you into the water. It’s warm enough that my dick and my balls stay full and heavy. When we’ve reached a place where the water is up to my chest and lapping at my nipples, making them hard too, you stop and turn to me. 

The water has completely covered your breasts so I can’t see them anymore, but I can feel them. I cup them in my hands below the waterline and flick my thumbs over your nipples. The sound that comes out of you is breathy, needy, and one of the sexiest things I’ve ever heard. It makes my dick bob in the water.

“Kiss me, Dean.” You say it through those beautiful hot moaning sounds you’re making. I wouldn’t deny you anything, and this is such an easy thing to give you. I want you so bad right now. There’s nothing but the feel of you in my arms as my lips close over yours, and the warmth of the sunshine on my shoulders.

The taste of your tongue is sweet on mine, and the deeper the kiss goes, the more I want you. You jump up and wrap your legs around my waist, and I grab your ass with both hands to hold you up. Your kisses are getting more intense, and I want you so much now, my cock is throbbing. I’m sure I’m leaking a steady stream of pre come, but it’s impossible to tell. You grind your hips against my aching cock, and I let out a groan louder than I meant to, but who’s going to hear us? We can make all the noise we want.

You’re kissing along my jaw and squeezing your thighs around me. “Take me, Dean. Right here. Need to feel you inside me, stretching me open.”

“Baby girl, you’re gonna make me crazy if you talk like that.” I’m almost gasping for breath at this point, at least if feels that way.

“Then stop talking,” you tell me. “Fuck me right now. Here. Under the sky with nature as our witness. Do it, Dean.”

I lift you up higher; you take my cock in you hand and position me at your entrance. Then I lower you down onto me. You’re so tight and feel so good I could almost cry from the relief and rightness of it.

I’m lifting you up and down, helping you ride my cock, while the water sloshes around us. You reach down between our bodies to stroke your clit and throw your head back, urging me on the closer you get to coming. “More, Dean. Harder.”

For once, I’m glad Sam nagged me about using the gym in the bunker. “We have it” he kept saying. Right now, I’m damn glad I wandered in there on a few occasions. I need all the balance skills I have to navigate the uneven bottom of the lake while I thrust up into you for all I’m worth.

Your pussy is grasping at my cock, choking it, challenging me to last a second longer. I will because you’re gonna come all over me before I let myself go. When I feel your walls start to clench around me and your nails start to tear at my back, I know I’ve got you.

“That’s it, baby. Mark me. Show me how good it feels.” I drag across your sweet spot and push into you as deep as I can. Your body shakes in my arms when you come.

The sound of you saying my name while you come undone is more than I can take. I fill you up, shooting my load inside you; and when I’m done, I drop my head onto your shoulder. “Y/N...that...you...are incredible.” I’m talking into your skin because I haven’t raised my head yet.

Time passes, I don’t know how long, with us wrapped around each other just like that. The next thing I’m aware of is your fingers combing through my hair. Ilift my head to kiss you again, and I can feel something shift inside me. It clicks into place.

Everything I said last night is the total truth, but there isn’t a drop of whiskey in me now. I could stay here with you, want to stay here with you. With that thought in my head, I walk out of the lake carrying you all the way back to the deck.

When we get there, I notice the folded up quilt and the pillows stacked beneath one of the windows. You had this planned all along. “Can you stand, sweetheart?”

Your head has been laying on my shoulder, and you turn it to kiss me right beside my neck. “I can make it,” you answer softly. 

My body has been separated from yours for awhile now, but when I put you down to spread out the quilt and pillows; I feel the loss of that contact in my gut. I need to hold you again.

I get things set up as fast as I can, sit down on the quilt, and pull you down with me. You lay back and put your head on a pillow first, and I can only hope you’re as eager as I am to feel our bodies wrapped around each other again.

It’s probably been less than two minutes since I let go of you, but that still seems like too long when I take you into my arms again. For a little while, my life is perfect. The warm sun overhead dries our skin while I run my fingers lightly up and down your back. Your head is on my chest where it belongs, and a bird singing is the only sound. I want to freeze this moment forever.

“Dean?” I kiss the top of your head.

“Yes, baby.” My fingers are still moving on your back while I wait for you to ask your question. “Do you think Sam would be okay in the bunker by himself for the next week?”

I feel a big smile spread across my face. “Oh, I know he will.” This is definitely the start of something. 

Everything: @gambitwinchester @princessmisery666 @peridottea91 @logical-princey @beenlovingromansincedayoneish @fangirlxwritesx67 @waywardbaby @atc74 @tumbler-tidbits @fandom-princess-forevermore @crashdevlin @jules-1999 @cosicas-cuquis @queenoftheunderdark @dean-winchesters-bacon @timelordy-fangirl2 @sweetness47 @hobby27 @awesomesusiebstuff @kickingitwithkirk @becs-bunker @sandlee44 @supernaturalgrandma @volleyballer519 @kdfrqqg @lizette50 @sorenmarie87 @lovealways-j @mrswhozeewhatsis @spnbaby-67 @wayward-and-worn @asthesunwentdown @vulgar-library @thinkinghardhardlythinking @petitgateau911 @calaofnoldor

Dean/Jensen: @deansyahtzee @flamencodiva @deanwinchesterswitch @feelmyroarrrr @focusonspn @akshi8278 @ladywinchester1967 @sgarrett49 @wingedcatninja @coffee-obsessed-writer @adoptdontshoppets @ellewritesfix05 @weepingwillowphoenix

Voters: @just-call-me-kim @siospins @jamzm @deandaydreaming​

#spnkinkbingo #spnfluffbingo #spndeanbingo #dean smut #dean fluff #dean x reader

[blu-joons]

He Comes Home From Tour ~ Mark Lee

Your body jumped as you walked out from the kitchen to see Mark stood in the doorway, stretching his arms out immediately for you to walk into. You happily obliged, snaking your arms around his waist as he pulled you nice and tightly into him.

“Have I told you how much I missed you yet?” he whispered into your ear, “it still doesn’t feel real that I’m home yet, it’s like a dream someone is about to wake me up from.”

You could only smile as he began to sway you side to side and list off once again all the things that he missed about you. In just two hours of having him home it had been a list he’d reeled off at least three times to you.

“How long are you going to be like this?” You chuckled, tilting your head up to look at him, “how long until the novelty of being home wears off for you?”

“I reckon it’ll be a few days,” he blushed, “I’m just enjoying being back in your company.”

It had been a good couple of months since the two of you had last seen each other with Mark’s tour of America. He’d made sure to call you every day, but it never compared to him being around for you to hold and physically be able to touch.

“I might have to send you into another room soon so I can call you, I’ve got quite a little routine going on now since you’ve been on tour,” you joked.

His head quickly shook, twirling you around. “There’s no way I’m letting you go tonight, wherever you go, I’m going to be there too, right by your side.”

“There’s two months for you to make up for,” you reminded, as you felt his lips press several times against the top of your head. “Now that your home, does that mean I have to take the teddy out of my bed that you bought for me? He’s actually pretty good at giving me hugs.”

A loud gasp escaped from him as you quickly reassured him you were joking. As much of a comfort as the giant teddy bear Mark bought you had been, it didn’t compare in the slightest to the real thing.

The whole house was kitted out the night before he left for tour with things that would be able to keep you company whilst Mark was away. Several shirts had been left out for you, perfume bottles scattered around the house, and letters to read whenever you felt down had been placed at your beside.

With each day that passed on tour, Mark would worry more and more about you. He always imagined being on tour that things would get easier, but for him, the longer he was away from you the harder he found it to carry on with a smile.

“Do you know how international you’ve become,” he whispered down to you, “I think more fans were asking about you then they were me whenever we had a meet and greet.”

“Maybe you should go on tour more often and let people know how amazing I am,” you joked, watching as yet again his eyes widened. “I’m kidding, don’t worry, I don’t want you to go.”

His eyes rolled; his heart was still too fragile to deal with all your jokes. “If I went back on tour now, you’d be crying for days, don’t even pretend that you want me to go.”

Your hand pushed gently against his arm as he reminded you of the state you were in the morning of the tour, you couldn’t even go to the airport in case anyone saw your tears.

He quickly clutched against his muscle, shaking his head gently. “I didn’t realise I’d come home to be beaten up, aren’t you supposed to be all over me right now?”

“You tell me, I can’t walk anywhere without you being right by my side.”

His head immediately nodded, making sure you knew yet again that he was not going to let you out of his sight for a good couple of days whilst he made up for lost time.

He craned his head down, pressing a kiss against your cheek before whispering into your ear, “I’m never going to let you go for this length of time again, I don’t think I can do it.”

“What about the next tour?”

“Maybe I’ll find a way to take you with me,” he suggested, “it’s something I thought about a lot whilst we were on the road, I reckon I could make it work.”

Your eyes rolled, as nice as a thought as it was, you had your own life too. “If you’re willing to convince my boss to let me have two months off, I’m all yours.”

“Well, you always tell me how charming I am,” he mused, kissing the lobe of your ear, “so maybe I could try and use a few of those charms on him too.”

“He’d probably ring security if you tried to charm him.”

Mark’s shoulders shrugged, “you underestimate how effective my charms can be. It managed to keep you here waiting for me to come home for two months.”

“I waited here because I love you,” you reminded him, “and this place was getting very lonely all by myself. I just wanted you to come home and fill up the space.”

“I’m here now, this house won’t be empty for a very long time. I’ll make sure of it.”

You twirled carefully in his arms, so your chest pressed against his. “There’s still so many stories you have to tell me rom the tour that I want to hear all about.”

You’d been sent plenty of photos and videos over the last two months whilst Mark tried to maintain contact with you, each one was sent with a message letting you know that he’d tell you all about it when he finally got home.

“I’ll tell you soon,” he assured you, “but I just want to make sure you’re alright first, everything else can wait for a while.”

“I’m alright now that your home,” you grinned, resting your hands against his cheeks, “you don’t need to worry about me now that you’re here.”

His head shook, regardless of wherever he was in the world, he always worried about you. Even if he was just down the road, he still wouldn’t be able to help but think about you and wonder if you were doing alright.

“Let’s focus on us for a little while longer,” he chimed, holding onto a lock of your hair. “We have all the time in the world to talk about everything now.”

I was thinking maybe for dinner I could make the stew you like, seeing as you were complaining about the one you had in California,” you proposed.

Immediately, his eyes lit up, squeezing you tighter yet again. “That is the best thing anyone has said to me in two months, it’s actual music to my ears.”

“I can’t do anything though unless you let go of me.”

“I’ll come and help,” he cheered, smiling widely, “or I’ll just sit at the table and wait, I just want to be in the same room as you.”

“I’m sure I can find something for you to do if you want to help?”

“I’ll do anything, just as long as I’m with you.”

---

Masterlist

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[ssahotchhner]

like real people do

PART TWO

hi! this is my first criminal minds fic, i haven’t watched the show all the way through in several years and while doing a rewatch discovered that i HAD to write hotch. this will be two parts, here’s the first! let me know your thoughts please, i love talking to my readers (:

words: 5837

pairing: hotch x reader

warnings: usual criminal minds nastiness, rape mention, death, curse words

Everyone knew that SSA Aaron Hotchner has been emotionally unavailable since his divorce, so everyone was that much more surprised when he kissed you at the bar in front of all your colleagues at the BAU. You wouldn’t lie, you had had a crush on Aaron for years now, but you had imagined your hypothetical romance much differently. As it was, Aaron had immediately left the bar in a flurry of embarrassment, murmuring a hurried apology on his way out leaving you to the unabashed teasing of your coworkers that you had pretended to brush off. Now, days later, Aaron still refused to so much as look at you.

“Y/N,” Morgan rolled his chair over to your desk, “I’m dying to know, is Hotch a good kisser?”

You sigh, “Fuck off, Derek.”

“Leave the poor girl alone, Derek,” Rossi says as he passes by, “Don’t you think it’s bad enough Hotch is giving her the silent treatment now?”

You tried to hide the way the tears pricked the back of your eyes at his comment, but you were surrounded by FBI profilers.

Morgan lowered his voice and reach out his hand to touch your arm, “Hey, babygirl, I’m sorry, I was just teasing, maybe you should try talking to Hotch--”

“Talking to me about what?” Aaron had been so quiet walking up on you and your head had been low, so focused on not crying that you hadn’t heard him.

“Nothing.” You say quickly, and as expected he avoids making eye contact, “Do you need something, sir?” You don’t miss the way he flinches at the formality. Good.

“We have a new case.” He says simply and walks away.

Morgan let out a low whistle, “You really hit him with the ‘sir.’” You started to get up from your desk, but Morgan put a hand on your arm again, “Seriously, Y/N, I’m sorry. If you need to talk I’m here.”

You sighed and stood up again, forcing a smile, “There’s nothing to talk about Derek, I’m fine. Now come on.”

“We have a serial rapist in Milwaukee, Wisconsin.” JJ starts immediately as everyone files in. You feel Morgan’s gaze on you the entire time and try not to get frustrated. He’s been like a brother to you since you joined the BAU a few years ago and you know this overprotectiveness was just him being a good friend, but it was bound to drive you nuts. “Victims are all white women ranging from their late teens to early twenties at a local university.”

“Why are we being called in for a rapist on a college campus?” Reid asks, “I don’t mean to be insensitive, but we all know the statistics. There are dozens of serial rapists on college campuses.”

“Because this one is torturing them while he rapes them and leaves them notes leading up to the attacks.” Hotch says as Penelope begins to pull up pictures on the screen of these women. “Slut, whore, bitch, cunt. All carved on their chests.” You do your best to hide the nausea that rises in you as you look at the pictures. Do your job. You remind yourself.

“What do the notes say?” Emily asks.

“They seem like thinly veiled threats,” Reid begins, “They sound romantic at first glance, but if you read closely you can see the context.” 

“He breaks into their dorms when they’re at class or at parties and waits for them to come home and then he holds them at knifepoint so they won’t scream.” Penelope says, trying not to let her voice shake.

“Risky to do in a dorm building and no one’s seen him?” Morgan says.

Rossi ponders this, “That means he must blend in, someone no one would think twice about being inside. A student, an RA, or a university official.”

“University officials don’t normally enter student dorms unless there’s an issue, they’d be more likely to stand out and students would talk about them showing up.” Hotch muses.

“Y/N, you’re awful quiet today,” Emily nudges your elbow, “What do you think?”

You can feel everyone’s eyes on you, but Aaron’s. Still looking at his manila folder as if Emily hadn’t addressed you. As if you didn’t exist. You clear your throat, “I think the RA or student theory makes sense. We should probably interview the RA of the first victim, assuming he’s a man. It would make sense to me that he would start with one of his own students and then begin to branch out. Maybe he thought he could stop, get that release he needed after just one, but the need only grew stronger.”

“Wheels up in thirty, we’ll discuss more on the plane.” Hotch says and stands, walking out of the room without another glance.

“Did something happen last night at the bar?” Emily murmurs, the only member of the team who didn’t make it out the night before, “Hotch is acting really weird around you.”

Derek snickers on the other side of you and you elbow him, “That’s it, I’m going to talk to him.”

Reid winces, “Good luck.”

“It’ll be fine, kid.” Rossi says and squeezes your shoulder as you pass.

You take a long breath before you finally build the courage to walk into Aaron’s office where he’s packing his briefcase. “Sir, can I talk to you for a moment?”

“Can it wait until we’re on the plane, agent?”

Agent. You roll your eyes toward the ceiling, “No, sir, it can’t.” You can’t hide the bite in your words this time. He finally looks at you, really looks at you. You wonder what he sees.

“Close the door.” He says quietly and then sits behind his desk.

You walk slowly to the seat in front of his desk. This time, he watches you. “This is the first time you’ve looked at me all day.”

“I wasn’t aware you were analyzing me.”

“Are you telling me you haven’t been analyzing me all day?”

“Agent, what is this about? We have a plane to catch.”

You stare at him for a few moments longer, “Fine,” You stand, “If you want to pretend nothing happened, I’ll do the same. But if you could at least stop ignoring me, that would be great.”

“Agent--”

“And use my goddamn name, for Christ’s sake.”

He stares at you and you know he hates your emotional outburst and that in turn makes you hate yourself. “Then you stop calling me ‘sir.’” He says quietly.

Your eyes soften for just a moment and then you storm back out of his office nearly plowing over Rossi as you leave. Rossi walks into Aaron’s office to see him rubbing his forehead, “Well that doesn’t look like it went well.”

“I screwed up, Rossi.” 

“Oh, come on Hotch, it was just one kiss. It didn’t mean anything--”

“It did mean something. To me. Maybe not to her.”

Rossi shakes his head, “Then why are you giving her the cold shoulder?”

Hotch sighs, “Because we work together, because she doesn’t feel the same, because she’s the first woman I’ve kissed since Haley. Pick a reason.” Rossi looks like he’s going to interject, but Hotch stands, “We don’t have time for this, Rossi, let’s go.”

Rossi sighs as he watches Aaron walk out of his office and follows after.

***

You’re quiet most of the plane ride, conscious of the looks everyone is giving you as you read the information in the manila folder over and over, trying to be good at your job instead of thinking about your boss.

“When we get off the plane, JJ and Prentiss, you go talk to the victims. Rossi and I will touch base with the police. Morgan, Reid, Y/N, you go talk to anyone you can find at the dorms, see if anyone’s seen anyone suspicious.” You make it a point not to react, but everyone else reacts anyway, watching you carefully. Hotch almost always assigns himself with you. 

“If you guys don’t stop psychoanalyzing me I will eject myself from this plane.” 

Everyone looks away except Aaron and when you meet his eyes, he’s smirking. Those smiles are so rare and you can’t deny how it satisfies you to know you were the reason he did so. You quickly look back down at your work, careful not to reveal anything you’re feeling.

***

“Do you have feelings for Hotch?” Reid asks without preamble when you’re in the car with Derek.

“Spencer!” You exclaim in outrage. Derek just laughs from the driver’s seat.

“What? You both wouldn’t be being so weird about one kiss if it wasn’t something more.”

“Okay, Romeo, remember that she’s armed.” Derek cautioned.

“He’s my boss, Reid. It’s weird because he’s my boss.”

“Well, sure, by definition Hotch is our superior but we all know--” Reid cut himself off when he saw the look Derek was giving him in the rearview mirror, “Yeah, you’re right, it’s weird.” He said quickly.

You sigh and turn to the window and ignore Derek and Spencer the rest of the ride.

***

“So you mean to tell me that ten women have come forward about being raped in their dorms and you told them to consider themselves lucky they weren’t murdered and sent them home without doing a rape kit?” Aaron’s furious. Furious with himself for the previous night and he’s more than happy to take out that anger on the local Milwaukee police department.

“Look, man, we get a lot of he said she said in here, we don’t have the time or the man power to follow up on every one.”

Just then his phone rings. It’s you. He wishes he could ignore the pang that goes through him just from reading your name. “Hotch.” He answers.

“Sir-- I mean, Aaron.” You correct yourself quickly, and then realize you should have called him Hotch, but it’s too late. “They’ve found a body.”

He frowns, “A body? That doesn’t fit his MO.”

You swallow, “Yeah, well, everything else does. He seems to have gotten a little carried away with the carving this time.”

“We’ll be right there.”

You hang up your phone and then turn back to Reid and Morgan who are looking over the crime scene. You sit with Victoria’s, the victim’s, distraught roommate and try to calm her and maybe get some actual information out of her. You don’t hear or see Aaron walk in until he’s already next to you, “Did you get anything from her?”

His closeness makes it hard to focus, “Just regular roommate stuff, she might be more useful once she calms down. I asked if her roommate had a boyfriend or anything like that and she said she was quiet, kept to herself. Boys were out of the question.”

“He’s escalated. Why?”

You shrug, “Could be because we’re here, that might have upset him and he lost control. But it could have been an accident, roommate says Victoria had a heart condition. The stress of the situation might have killed her.”

Hotch nods, “Good work.”

He was trying to be normal, you could tell. And he was trying so hard. “Thank you.” You said softly and then you excused yourself. Everything about him set you on edge and over and over the moment he kissed you plays in your head.

***

You’re both laughing to near snorting while sitting at the bar and Aaron can’t stop watching you, “You have an incredible laugh, you know?” He says softly when you’ve both settled down. “Sometimes when I think this job isn’t worth it, I’ll hear your laugh outside my office and just that sound…” He realizes what he’s saying suddenly and turns his head away from you smiling at his drink now.

“You make it worth it for me too.” You say and his eyes are back on you, “You so rarely ever smile, but when you smile at me… It makes it all worth it. The long hours, the horrible cases… all of it.”

When you look back at him he’s suddenly serious again. You can see his eyes calculating as he searches your face and you realize with a bit of shock that he’s trying to see if you’re lying. When his eyes finally settle back on yours, he gently reaches up, almost without thinking about it and curls a loose piece of hair behind your ear.

And then in the next second, his hand still on your face, his mouth is on yours.You forget that there’s anyone else in the world for those few seconds that he kisses you. Until everyone on the team starts jeering and Aaron pulls away like he’s seen a ghost.

“Aaron?” You say, frowning as he jumps up from his seat, not looking at you and gathering his things.

“I’m sorry.” Is all he murmurs and then runs out.

Derek’s laughing as he walks up to you, “Damn, princess. You broke Hotch! I gotta say, you’re incredibly out of his league.” You glare at him. “What? You’re out of my league too.”

You smile at that and try to act like everything’s normal, but you’re sure Spencer notices that you drink more and laugh a little too loudly.

***

You’re pulled back from the memory as JJ walks toward you, “Hey, you alright?”

“Yeah,” You nod, “Fine, just needed a second alone to think.”

She stops in front of you and rests her hand on your arm, lightly squeezing, “You can talk to me, you know, about men. Even Hotch.”

You smile, “I appreciate everyone’s concern, but I’m fine, really. It’s not that big a deal.”

“It’s a big deal if it starts interfering with the job, and I can see it on both of you,” She’s stern all of a sudden, “I know he’s our boss, but underneath that he’s just any other man, Y/N. Don’t let him fool you into thinking otherwise.”

“Guys,” Derek interrupts, sticking his head out into the hallway, “You’re gonna wanna see this.”

When you come back in the room, Spencer is crouched over the body, gloves on, examining the carvings in her body, “There’s hesitation in the cuts this time and you can tell they were done after she was dead. And if you look a little bit closer…”

“‘Sorry…’” You read the small script, astonished. “Remorse. It was an accident.” Your eyes dart back and forth as you lose yourself in your own thoughts while the rest of the team discusses, “I think we can deliver the profile.”

***

“We’re looking for a white male in his early to mid twenties.” Hotch starts, “He most likely is able to gain the women’s trust, maybe he’s a student RA or a student tech worker, but they let him in without a second thought.”

“I thought he breaks into the dorms and waits for them?” A cop asks.

“He does,” You say, “But the initial access is how he chooses his victims. He’s a loner, doesn’t have many friends, certainly no girlfriend. It’s possible that he asks these girls on dates when he first meets them, and when they refuse he feels entitled to them anyway which is why he comes back for the rape.”

“What about the murder?” Another cop asks.

“We believe the death of the last girl was an accident.” Reid responds, “She had a heart condition and the medical examiner has confirmed she died from sudden cardiac arrest. The unsub even seemed to show remorse when he defiled the body after, carving the word ‘sorry’ into her body.”

“The killing has most likely set him on edge. He’s remorseful, upset, overcome with immense guilt, but he blames the women. If they had just said yes to him, he wouldn’t have to do this. She wouldn’t have died.” Derek continues, “You should be looking for someone who was soft spoken, but as the rapes started he became more assertive, maybe he had an altercation with a professor or supervisor.”

“You’ve probably interviewed him already,” You say, “He inserts himself into the investigation because he feels guilt and watching the investigation play out validates that he was right for doing what he did.” You sigh, “There’s one more thing. He didn’t intend to kill Victoria, but… He spent time with the body after she had passed. He mutilated her as well as continued his rape of her afterward. It’s possible that he enjoyed the kill and will kill the next time as well. So stay vigilant and… please tell the girls not to let any men in their dorms. Thank you.”

Aaron comes up to you, “Can I speak to you alone for a moment?”

You nod and follow him into a conference room and he closes the door behind you, “You’re really an incredible profiler, agent.”

Again with the ‘agent.’ “Thank you, sir.”

“I just wanted to assure you that I will remain nothing but professional around you from here on out.”

You tilted your head to the side and you knew the pain was evident on your face as you didn’t try to hide it, “I see.”

“You’re upset.”

You laugh, “Did you mean anything you said at the bar, Aaron, or were you just drunk?” You’re aware of how vulnerable you’re being in front of him now as you can hear the tears in your own voice.

You see him calculating what the best response is and this just infuriates you more, “Forget it, you’re just going to talk to me like some unsub, trying to best figure out what to say to calm me down.”

He shakes his head, “That’s not what I’m doing.”

You start to walk out and stop to stand next to him, “You just said yourself I’m an incredible profiler, so please don’t profile me and think I won’t notice.”

He closes his eyes as you continue walking out, “Y/N, wait.” Despite yourself, you do stop at the sound of your name. “I’m sorry, I-- I meant the things I said at the bar, I’m… But I’m your boss and I don’t want to make it difficult for you to do your job.”

You force a smile and look up at him, “Don’t worry, Hotch, won’t be a problem.”

And then you’re gone and he gets the feeling you won’t call him Aaron ever again.

***

Spencer walks in the entrance of the dorm you’ve been staking out, two coffees in hand. He hands one to you wordlessly, “Have you gotten any sleep?”

“Obviously not.” You sigh and happily guzzle the coffee, “Thanks.”

“Hotch is upset.”

“About what?” You murmur, half paying attention, half going over the case again on the papers in front of you.

“About you, obviously.”

You don’t look up, “I don’t know what you’re talking about. How do you even know Hotch is upset? He always looks like he’s pissed at something.”

“Because I’m a profiler. Everyone knows he’s off, no one will say to his face that it’s because of you.”

You sigh and look up at him, “Spencer, we’re fine, okay? We’re adults.” He’s quiet, but he won’t stop staring at you, “What?”

“I know that I’m… not the most perceptive when it comes to emotions, but… I think he’s in love with you. And I’m pretty sure you’re in love with him.”

You smirk, “And what makes you think that, Mr. Profiler?”

He smiles back, “Well, Hotch is always watching you, mostly when you’re not looking and when he does his expression sort of… softens. He almost always assigns the two of you together when giving the unit assignments, which I think is partially because he likes to be around you, but also because he’s trying to protect you, especially after that hostage situation a few months ago. He was a wreck when you were in there. Screaming at everyone, I really thought he would kill the unsub when he found him.”

“He would do that for any of us, when any of us were in danger.” You said, quickly shaking your head to dismiss the idea.

But Spencer shakes his head, “You didn’t see him. It was different.”

“Spencer, he barely gave me a pat on the back when I left that hostage situation alive.”

“That’s because he doesn’t trust himself around you. Why do you think the only time he’s ever given you a hint at the way he feels was when he was drunk?”

Your head is spinning as you look at Spencer, “No, that doesn’t make any sense--”

“It makes perfect sense and I know you know that.” Spencer’s phone rings, “Reid.” He sighs and lowers his head, “Where? Okay, we’ll be right there.” He hangs up the phone, “There’s another body.”

You sigh, “I really hate being right.”

***

“You were right,” Hotch says from behind you, “He’s discovered he likes killing.”

It was never easy looking at bodies, but somehow it was always worse when you had predicted it and still not been able to stop it, “How did he do it?”

“Manual strangulation.”

“Has anyone checked for skin or blood under her fingernails? Sign of a struggle?”

Aaron nods, “Already scraped off and sent to Garcia.”

“Even if she can’t find a match, we’ll be able to narrow down suspects by the injuries she left.”

“The school is panicking, they want to evacuate the campus.”

“If they evacuate we’ll never find him, he’ll just start again somewhere else.”

“That’s what I told them.”

You sigh, “Why are the girls still letting him in?”

“Maybe they’re not,” Hotch mused, “Maybe he’s starting to pick the girls from his classes now that we’re here.”

“The last two victims, do we have their schedules? Their majors?”

“They were both nursing majors,” Emily interjects, “Third year.”

You nod, “Okay, so by that point, third year, majority of their classes are restricted to nursing majors only.” You flip your phone open and dial Penelope.

“Hello my delightful fairy princess, what can I do for you?”

“Garcia, the last two victims, can you cross reference their class schedules and tell me if they had any classes in common?”

“Yes, just a second… Three classes in common.”

“Okay, cross reference with the remaining victims.”

“Um, okay, wow, all of them had two classes in common.”

“Shit.” You mutter, “Can you send over the class rosters of both those classes, but just the men. And also send pictures.”

“You got it.”

“Thanks, Penelope.”

You shake your head, “They were all nursing majors.” You say as you hang up, “How did we miss that?”

Reid was shaking his head, “We didn’t have a lot of time to interview the victims before the first body turned up.”

“Alright, we need everyone looking through those rosters, rounding up every male we can and interviewing them.” Hotch starts, “Y/N, you’re with me for interviews, the rest of you keep in touch with Garcia and find out anything you can.”

You try to ignore the shock you feel that he picked you this time, noting Reid’s raised eyebrows as he left the room. “You sure you want me on interviews?” You ask when you’re alone.

He’s looking at all the evidence on the corkboard, “Why wouldn’t I?”

“Wasn’t sure if you would want to work closely with me anymore.” You say, standing next to him now and also looking over the evidence.

He looks at you now, “You have the same features as a lot of the victims, I’m hoping it’ll get a rise out of our unsub if we find him.”

You nod, “Makes sense.”

“And,” He says pointedly until you meet his eyes, “As I’ve said already, you’re an excellent agent and I could use your help on this.”

You heave a big sigh, “Okay, how do you wanna play it?”

He shrugs, “I think you already know what role I need you to play.”

***

This is maybe the tenth or so interview you and Hotch had done with no success. You were tired of playing this role, especially in front of Hotch.

“Jordan.” You smile sweetly at him, making sure to lean over the table just a little to give him the view he wants, “Did you know either of these girls?” You lay the pictures of the last couple victims on the table, wait to see his reaction. He brings his hands up to rest on the table and you see the shallow scratch marks on them, you share a discreet look with Hotch who barely nods in acknowledgement.

He stares for far too long. Hotch notices his hands clench into fists. He’s excited by the bodies.

“Yeah, I knew them.” He’s still looking at the pictures, “They were in two of my classes.” He finally looks up and gazes at you hungrily, “You seem awful young to be an FBI agent.”

You smile again and then look away, a sign of submission. “Stop flirting with my agent.” Hotch says placing his palms abruptly on the table. Jordan doesn’t flinch at Hotch’s presence, not taking his eyes off you. He’s more confident than either of you anticipated. Was the profile wrong or is this the wrong guy? “How did you know the victims?”

“I just told you, from class.”

“Did you ever see them outside of class?”

He shrugs, “I don’t know, maybe, to do a project, not in a while though.”

“Jordan, do you know if either of the girls had a boyfriend?”

“Boyfriend?” He frowns, “Those two? No.” He practically scoffs.

You tilt your head to the side, “Why do you say it like that?”

“Those girls aren’t the boyfriend type. They’re whores.” There’s the bitterness in his voice.

You try to make your face as empathetic as possible, “What do you mean by that, Jordan?”

“Well, you know, they slept around… Wouldn’t give a nice guy like me a chance. You must know their type, you’re the FBI.”

You nod, “It must be so hard for a handsome, smart guy like you to get rejected. I can’t imagine why anyone would dream of missing out on that,” You shake your head, “Their loss.”

Hotch audibly scoffs and you watch Jordan glare at him. He’s getting angry. Good. “Hotch, why don’t you go get Jordan a water?”

Hotch blinks at you, trying to figure out if you had really just given him an order, “Agent, I am the lead interrogator on this case, I’m not leaving you alone in here--”

“Agent Hotchner,” You turn in your seat to face him, hoping he’ll read your expression, “Please get the young man a water, he’s been in here for hours.”

His eyes search your face for a few moments and then he leaves the room without another word. He won’t be getting Jordan a water. You know he’s watching carefully from the other side of the glass. “Sorry about him.” You say, “He doesn’t understand men like you.”

“Men like me?”

“Men who know how to get what they want.”

His face transforms as he watches you and he leans back in his chair, relaxed, legs spread to assert his dominance. “And you understand that?”

“There’s nothing sexier than a man who goes after what he wants… No matter what.”

He leans forward and whispers, “Even when they beg me to stop?”

You swallow past your disgust and, though you hate to admit it, fear, “Did they beg you to stop? Victoria and Erica?”

His smile widens as he watches you, “You remind me so much of them.”

“Can you tell me what you did to them? How you killed them?”

He licks his lips now, you think he’s lost all sense of where he is, falling for the delusion you’ve set in front of him, “You’re just like them, a dirty little slut. You want to be punished, don’t you?”

“Please.” Is the last word you whisper before he practically jumps across the table to grab your throat. Your chair falls backwards and he’s on top of you, crushing your windpipe. How could you forget that he was uncuffed? Hotch rushes in, he yells as he pulls Jordan off you, but you’re not sure what he’s saying. Then he’s cuffed Jordan and taken you out of the room.

“Sit.” Aaron says, ushering you to a chair that you practically fall into. You’re still coughing and you’re shaking a bit as Aaron gives you a water.

“I forgot,” You start, your voice hoarse, but Hotch brings the water cup to your mouth, insisting you drink before talking. You take a couple swallows, “I forgot he wasn’t cuffed.”

He shakes his head, “It’s my fault, I shouldn’t have left you alone with him.”

“No, I needed you on the other side of the glass. He wouldn’t have fallen for the delusion otherwise. I needed him to forget who I was and just see me as a potential victim.” Aaron wouldn’t meet your eyes, not wanting to admit that you were right, “I’m going back in there.”

“No, you’re not, that’s out of the question.”

“Is that an order, sir?” He scans your face in frustration, “You know it has to be me. He won’t talk to you. I’ll be fine.”

He sighs and rubs a hand over his face, “Fine. Ask him about Erica, don’t ask about Victoria.”

“Why?”

“Because he didn’t kill Victoria himself, it’ll ruin the fantasy and he might lie to you to try to impress you. The details of the murders weren’t shared with the public, only the unsub would know how each of them died. He needs to reveal how he killed Erica to you and then we’ll have him.”

“Okay.” You stand and hold your hands behind you so he won’t see them shaking, but he’s a profiler. The attempt is mute.

He takes a step closer, “You don’t have to go back in there,” He says softly, “No one will think less of you.”

When he’s this close, looking at you with such concern, it makes you want to melt in his arms. But you had a job to do, “I can do this.”

And before he can make you think about it more, you turn away from him and march back in the interrogation room.

“Sorry about that,” You sit back down at the table and smile at him, “My partner gets a little jealous sometimes.” You lean in and whisper, “He’s usually the only one I let handle me like that.”

Just like that he’s back, “Why don’t you uncuff me so we can continue?”

You bite your lip, “I’d like to hear more about the other girls first.”

***

“Why is she in there by herself?” Rossi came up behind Aaron who was watching the unsub’s every move, ready to jump in again if needed.

“She insisted.” Hotch says simply, “She almost has him.”

Rossi sighs, “She’s stubborn. Like someone else I know.”

Hotch is quiet for a moment, “I can’t be with her, Rossi, it could ruin her career.”

“You can’t know that. And besides, don’t you think that should be her decision to make?”

Hotch doesn’t answer, he just continues watching you.

***

“Does it turn you on hearing what I’ve done to them?”

You’re sitting on your hands now, trying to stifle the growing panic in your head that was telling you to get out. He’s unarmed, he’s cuffed, Aaron is right there. He can’t hurt you. “You have no idea.” It came out breathless from your fear, but he interpreted it as desire.

“First, I knocked her out, tied her to the bed. Then I waited for her to wake up before I began. I stripped her clothes off her at that point and then I fucked her while she cried,” He’s smiling at you and you’re doing all you can to keep your expression neutral. “I took out the knife and started carving her up. You should have heard her beg. And then, when that’s all finished, I strangled her while I came inside her.” He leans over the table to get closer to you, and it takes everything in you not to move away, “Have you ever watched the light leave someone’s eyes, sweetheart?”

You calmly scoot your chair back and stand, buttoning your shirt back up and then resting your hand on your gun, reminding him of who you really are, “Thank you, Jordan. You’ve been incredibly helpful in this investigation.” And then turn to leave ignoring the way he calls after you.

When you exit the room, Aaron and Dave are both waiting for you and you sit down, exhausted, resting your head in your hands.

“Nice work, kid.” Dave says with a squeeze on your shoulder, and then he’s gone.

Then, there’s another touch on your back, more gentle and hesitant. You look up to see Aaron watching you, concern masking his face, “I’m fine, Hotch.” You say, shrugging him off.

His hand drops and you immediately regret it. “When you were taken those months ago, by that unsub…” His words are slow, as if making sure this is what he really wants to say to you. You know exactly what he’s going to say before he says it, “He raped you, didn’t he?” Your eyes snap up to meet his. “You would never tell us what actually happened, all those hours he had you, a sexual sadist.” He shakes his head, “There’s no way he would’ve been able to control himself.”

You shake your head just lightly, “I can’t do this now, Aaron.”

“Then when?” He’s frustrated now, borderline angry, “You lied at your psych eval, you said nothing happened, we let you come back after just a couple of weeks--”

“And I’m doing just fine, aren’t I?” You stand so you’re nearly eye level with him.

“You think I didn’t notice the way you almost fell apart in there?”

“But I didn’t. I finished it and I did a damn good job and you know it.”

Hotch erases all traces of emotion from his face as he stares you down, “You’re suspended for two weeks, effective immediately. Hand over your badge and gun, agent.”

You nearly stumble back from him as if you’ve been hit, “Aaron?”

“What’s going on?” Prentiss has entered the room now followed by the rest of the team, all watching with confused and worried expressions.

“You heard me.” Hotch says, never taking his eyes off you. You make no moves to take out your badge or gun, “Now, agent.” There’s bite to his words this time.

You feel humiliated. With the whole team watching, you place your gun and badge on the table and brush by Aaron without a second glance. Pushing past the team, even Spencer who reaches for you.

“What the hell was that, Hotch?” Derek says once you’ve left.

“She lied in order to pass her psych eval. I did what I had to do.” Everyone’s staring at him, but he walks by, seemingly unphased, “Good work, everyone. Get some rest, we go home tomorrow at first light.”

#criminal minds #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner fic #hotch x reader #aaron hotchner fanfic #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds fic #hotch fic #hotch fluff #hotch angst #hotch imagine #mine

[flourgirl]

Sleepyhead

Pairing: Peter Parker x Reader

Summary: Peter will try just about anything to help out the very pretty insomniac from his math class.

Work Count: 11.2k

Warnings: Just some sweet, pure fluff with a few curse words every now and then.

A/N: Either the tags aren’t working for me or you guys just didn’t like it, but the final part of “Even If It’s a Lie” has been out for a few days now if anyone’s interested in reading it 🥺 Anyway, I hope you guys enjoy this super long piece I’ve been working on to help me get through finals <3

“Touch you softly I call you up late at night No doubt it isn't right But you could be my one and only” -Softly, Clairo

Peter had seen you around campus a few times, but it wasn’t until you started sitting two rows ahead of him in his linear algebra class that he really started to notice you. 

He thought you were really pretty, and he liked how cozy you always looked in the puffy winter coat you kept on in the perpetually freezing lecture hall. You took a lot of notes, which told him that you cared about the class, and never showed up without a giant cup of iced coffee.

You’re being a creep, Peter told himself. He had thought about switching seats to somewhere in front of you, so he could actually listen to his professor discuss permutations instead of staring at how you chewed on the end of your pen when you were thinking.

It was even worse when you started sleeping in class, your soft hair falling around your shoulders as you leaned your head against your desk. It seemed like all the coffee in the world couldn’t keep you awake, and Peter wondered if he should ask if you wanted to borrow his notes or something. But that would mean him admitting to looking at you way more than he needed to, and that was weird, so he quickly dropped the idea.

Still, he was worried about you. So when he came back from patrol in the middle of the night and bumped into you outside of the dorm kitchen, he figured it would be the perfect opportunity to introduce himself and maybe even find out why you were so tired all the time. 

The only problem was that he had accidentally knocked your pan of banana bread out of your hands, and you were currently staring at it laying on the floor with your sleepy eyes, not saying anything.

“Shit, uh, I’m so sorry,” he told you, crouching down to scoop up the remnants of your late-night snack into the pan. “Were you really up baking at 3 a.m?”

You blushed a little, starstruck that the cute guy from your math class was talking to you. “Um, yeah. I couldn’t sleep, so I figured I’d come down to the kitchen while nobody else was here and make something. Baking always helps me calm down, and so here I am. And here we are. And there’s my bread, all covered in whatever kind of dust the custodians refuse to sweep down here.”

He offered a soft smile, and it made you feel better about the fact that you were rambling way more than you wanted to.

“I’m Y/N,” you continued, gently taking the pan from his hands. “You’re in linear algebra with Professor Meyers, right?”

“Yeah, you, um, you sit right in front of me. Well, not right in front of me. Two rows in front of me. Shit. I’m not creepy, I promise. It’s just… uh… My name is Peter and I’m going to stop talking now.” 

That couldn’t have possibly gone any worse, he thought. You were probably thinking he was a serial killer or something.

“It’s okay. I know you sit behind me,” you reassured him. “You answer a lot of questions.” He was cute and smart, and you hoped he couldn’t notice how flustered you were to be this close to him.

“What are you doing up so late?” he asked, which made you laugh at how ironic his concerns were, considering he was also wandering around the dorm basement at this hour.

“I could ask you the same thing,” you replied, sitting on one of the benches that jutted out of the walls of the corridor. “I mean, you’re here too. At least I was baking. What’s up with you?”

You had a point. “I had an emergency… with my internship. I work for Stark Industries, and Mr. Stark rang me in the middle of the night to come to the lab immediately for something, so, yeah. That’s why I’m awake right now.”

“Okay,” you said, not buying his story. “So that’s why you have a black eye and you’re lurking in the basement hallway? Did Tony Stark punch you?”

Fuck. Did he really have a black eye and not notice? He didn’t think that Doc Oc’s stupid mechanical arm had punched him that hard, but apparently, he was wrong. And now he had to come up with some reason as to where it came from, although he could already tell that you were about to call his bluff.

The only solution he could think of was to change the subject. “Why are you always asleep during class?” he blurted out, causing you to give him a funny look before frowning down at your slippers.

“Isn’t it obvious,” you yawned, stretching your arms out in front of you. “I’m an insomniac. It’s actually kind of funny. I never really had any problems with falling asleep until I moved here. Maybe it’s the cold weather or the constant pressure to get good grades, but I just can’t sleep anymore. It sucks.”

Normally, you’d never tell this much about yourself to somebody, let alone a complete stranger. But somehow, you felt really comfortable around Peter. There was just something about him that made you feel warm and fuzzy inside.

Peter caught himself staring at you again, your baby pink pajamas a far departure from how put together your usual outfits were. Even without your makeup or hair done, you were still the prettiest girl he had ever seen. For some reason, even the dark circles under your eyes were really cute to him.

“You never answered my question,” you reminded him, hoping that he’d say something to fill the awkward silence. “What’s with the black eye and wandering around in the middle of the night? Are you some kind of superhero?”

“What? No! That’s crazy. Me, a superhero,” he laughed awkwardly, wondering if you had somehow figured out his secret identity. Had you spotted him that one time he made sure that you and your friends got home safely from a late-night study session? Even so, you totally couldn’t have known it was him, right?

“Relax, I’m just joking,” you giggled, thinking about how cute he looked when he was flustered. “Although my friend did tell me she thought she saw Spider-Man a few weeks ago on her way back from a party.”

“Haha, yeah,” he breathed out, a wave of relief washing over him. It was times like these that he really started to appreciate how well-hidden his muscles were underneath all of his oversized sweaters.

“Does that hurt?” you asked, bringing your hand up to lightly brush his lip, which was bleeding. He flinched instinctively before settling under your touch, your eyes focused on the small cut. “I have a first aid kit in my room if you want some help cleaning it up.”

“Oh, no, it’s cool. I wouldn’t want to bother your roommate,” Peter told you, scooting further away on the bench, nearly falling off the edge of it. Ned hated it when he stumbled in at some ungodly hour after patrol and woke him up. 

“Don’t worry about it,” you said, standing up and gesturing for him to follow you. “I have a single.”

Peter looked at you in awe. Freshmen never got rooms to themselves, and yet somehow you had one. “Okay, fine. But only because I’ve never actually seen a single in this building before.”

“That’s cool with me,” you smiled, reaching for his hand so he could keep up with your pace. He noticed that you were chewing some of the banana bread, which he really hoped was from the part that didn’t fall on the floor. To be fair though, it did smell really good.

Not only did you have a single, but you lived on the first floor. Peter couldn’t believe how lucky you were, considering the building that the two of you lived in didn’t have any elevators to traverse its seven floors.

He was even more shocked when you opened your door, revealing the coziest dorm room he had ever seen. How on earth did you transform the glorified prison cell into something that felt so... comforting? From the twinkling lights that were wrapped around everything and the soft rug under his feet, Peter found it really hard to believe that you had trouble sleeping here.

“Sorry, it’s a bit messy,” you apologized, piling your many throw pillows and blankets into a basket to clear up some space on your bed. “You can sit here.”

If this was messy, then Peter and Ned’s room needed some serious help. “No worries,” he said, watching as you rummaged around your drawers in search of your first aid kit.

Eventually, you found it hidden under a bunch of graph paper and colored pencils, untouched ever since your overprotective grandparents had helped you move in. “Here we go,” you mused, now looking inside it for alcohol wipes and band-aids.

He winced as you rubbed the little cloth against his lips, and you made sure to be more gentle as you cleaned up the other cuts on his face. Thankfully, nothing was bad enough to require stitches, something you were seriously under-qualified to do.

All Peter could focus on the entire time was how close you were and what it would be like to just kiss you right then and there, but he knew that was way too forward of him. Plus, he didn’t even know if you liked him like that. Surely you were just being nice.

Still, the way he caught you staring into his brown eyes after smoothing a band-aid on his forehead made him think otherwise.

“You’re going to have to tell me eventually who beat you up,” you sighed, gathering up wrappers to throw away and tucking the first aid kit back into its place in your drawers.

“It’s a long story,” he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck and avoiding your stare.

“I’ve got time,” you replied, climbing onto your lofted bed to sit next to him, innocently brushing your bare leg against his jeans, which made his breath hitch. “Tell me about it.”

“Uh, how about another time?” he stammered, hopping off the bed and running his hand through his hair. “After class tomorrow, or something. It’s getting pretty late. We should, um, go to sleep.”

“You can stay here if you want,” you offered, his eyes widening at your invitation. “On the bean bag, I mean. It’s actually really comfortable. You mentioned something about bothering your roommate and I figured that maybe you’d like to avoid the trouble tonight.”

“Oh…” Peter hesitated, looking for a reason to say no. He knew he’d never be able to sleep knowing that you were in the same room as him. “I don’t have any pajamas.”

“True,” you agreed, a little disappointed that he wasn’t interested in sticking around.

“I don’t actually even wear pajamas to sleep,” he continued, making you look back up at him instead of playing with the hem of your shirt. “It’s just… I sleep in my boxers.”

“I’m sorry for asking. I didn’t mean to put you in an uncomfortable situation,” you sighed, your face hot with embarrassment.

“It’s not that! I mean, I do want to stay here. But, uh, you… well, you make me really nervous, Y/N,” he muttered, his glance bouncing around the room.

“Why?” you asked, your brows furrowing. “Did I do something?”

“No, no! Nothing at all. I promise, okay?”

“Okay. You can, um, get ready for bed, I guess. I promise not to look,” you assured him, turning on your side to face the wall.

“Thanks. Yeah, alright.” You heard him fumbling with his clothes, his sneakers making a soft thud on your floor. You did your best to resist the urge to glance back at him.

“Can I just use any of these?” he asked, although you had no idea what he was talking about.

“Peter, I’m not looking, remember? You’re going to have to be a little more specific than that.”

“The blankets. Do I just pick one, or are you particular about them?”

“Oh. You can use whichever one you want to. But the coral one’s the softest and my personal favorite.” Peter stared at the basket in confusion. To him, they were all just pink. But based on touch alone, he pulled one out that he figured was a little more orange than the others.

He walked over to the light switch and flipped off the overhead fluorescents, letting the room be illuminated by the warm glow of your fairy lights, which weren’t too bright, but still twinkly and beautiful.

“Goodnight, Peter,” you whispered, snuggling into your comforter in the hopes that your heartbeat would slow down and let you fall asleep for once.

“Goodnight, Y/N.” In a matter of minutes, you could hear his soft snoring, and you figured that it would be okay just to take a quick peek since he’d probably be bundled up in one of your blankets.

His hair was perfectly messy, and he looked so cozy wrapped up in the blanket you had recommended. Still, as much as you could stare at his adorable face all night, you were exhausted. Burying your face under the covers, you did your best to calm your nerves and get some rest before class tomorrow.

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

“Peter,” you whispered, jostling him lightly by the shoulders in the hopes of waking him up. “Uh, we have an hour before class. I was thinking that it would be enough time for you to go shower and change, and then we could go get coffee or something.”

He blinked back up at you, amazed at how well he slept on your bean bag. You had already gotten ready for the day, doing your makeup and picking out one of your many fluffy sweaters to keep you warm in the New York snow.

“Thanks, that sounds awesome,” he yawned, accepting the hand you held out to help him up. The blanket fell, and you stared at each other in shock, having forgotten that Peter was in nothing but his underwear.

You dropped his hand as fast as you could, covering your eyes. “Oh my god! I’m sorry. Shit, I completely forgot, Peter. I’m so sorry. I’ll let you get dressed.”

Peter watched as you stumbled around the room, your eyes squeezed tightly as your hands attempted to guide you away from him.

“Y/N,” he started, catching your attention as you nearly ran into your bed frame. “You can open your eyes. Really, I don’t care if you see me like this if it means I can keep you from breaking your nose.”

You hesitantly opened your eyes, relieved that Peter had already managed to pull his pants back on. Still, he was completely shirtless, and you found yourself staring at the abs you would have never expected to be hiding underneath his clothes.

Moments later, you averted your gaze, although you knew that he probably noticed you looking at where was now covered by his plaid button-down and dark blue sweater.

“I’ll, um, be right back,” he muttered, before practically sprinting out of your room and up the stairs. You groaned in embarrassment, burying your face in a pillow before attempting to take a quick twenty-minute power nap.

Peter couldn’t believe it. Sure, he had thought one time about you seeing him without clothes on, but this wasn’t how he thought it would go at all. Still, the image of you staring at him shirtless, your face flushed, made him feel like he was going to have a heart attack.

“Dude! There you are,” Ned screamed, startled at his roommate’s unexpected entrance. Peter panted, having run up four flights of stairs as fast as he could. “Wait a second. Did you finally get laid? Is this a walk of shame?”

Before Ned could praise him any further, Peter was grabbing a change of clothes and sprinting towards the bathroom. Don’t think about her, he begged himself.

The memory of your leg touching his last night immediately came to mind, and Peter was so angry at himself for being this starved for physical intimacy. To be fair, though, you were the most beautiful girl he had ever seen, and so he cut himself some slack.

Shit, he told himself, making sure the water was set to cold. He needed to calm down, but instead, his thoughts were stuck on how good you looked in your pajamas, but also how good you would look without them and—fuck it. 

Peter liked you a lot, and if thinking about you like this in private kept him from being a complete weirdo in person, then maybe he just needed to get his feelings of desperation over with.

When he came back down to your room about thirty minutes later, you were still super tired. You trudged your way towards the door, your hair now noticeably messier than earlier, but at least that meant your nap had been a success.

His hair was still damp and this time he was wearing yet another blue sweater, which made you wonder if he ever wore any other color. He had his backpack slung over one of his shoulders and a nervous smile on his face as he locked eyes with you.

“Hey,” he said, pushing some of his hair out of his face. “Are you ready to go?”

You leaned against the doorway a little bit, letting out a yawn that was literally the cutest noise Peter had ever heard in his life. “Yeah, let me get my backpack.”

“It’s so heavy,” you continued, rightfully complaining as the weight of all its contents practically pulled you downwards. “I think it’s so stupid how almost every professor bans computers from class. Like, it’s not fair that I have to lug around three textbooks every day. I don’t have time to run back to my dorm in between classes like some people!”

Peter frowned. Three textbooks were nothing to him, but he knew that you didn’t have spidey-strength and that you were also pretty tiny compared to him. It must’ve been hell on your back to be carrying all that stuff around every day.

“I can carry it for you,” he offered, holding out his hand to switch with you. “Here, you can take my backpack if it’ll make you feel better. I have a lot of programming classes today, so I’ve only got my laptop and a notebook in there.”

You gave him a look of gratitude as he traded bags with you, literally taking the weight off your shoulders. He was right. His backpack was much more manageable for you, even if the dark grey contrasted with the light colors you always wore.

In contrast, it looked kind of odd for him to be walking around with a backpack that was covered in a soft pink floral pattern, much like everything else you owned, but the sight of him carrying your books brought a smile to your face. 

It was one of the sweetest things a guy had ever done for you, and Peter wasn’t even your boyfriend. He probably didn’t even think of you in that way.

“Uh, where do you usually get coffee?” he asked, slowing his pace so you could keep up. He felt bad seeing how tired you were, no doubt due to the lack of sleep you got last night.

“The Starbucks next to Hendrie Hall,” you replied, rubbing the sleep out of your eyes. “You?”

“I don’t drink coffee,” he admitted. “I’m actually more of a tea person.”

“Oh,” you hesitated, wondering if it was worth it to walk all the way across campus just for a caramel ribbon crunch frappuccino. “We could go somewhere closer then.”

“It’s okay,” Peter reassured you, grabbing your hand and pulling you along to your destination. “I like walking.”

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

You hadn’t really talked to Peter since that morning before class, but sometimes you would peek behind you and catch him stealing glances at you. Eventually, he had started to feel brave enough to give you a little wave whenever you caught him looking at you. Well, at least the times when you were awake.

One day, not even the loud shuffling and growing chatter of your classmates exiting the lecture hall could wake you up, and Peter figured he better do something before you got chewed out by one of the TAs.

“Y/N?” he said, leaning closer so that you could hopefully hear him. “Y/N. You gotta wake up. Class ended three minutes ago.”

He shook you a little bit, nervously hoping that you wouldn’t mind him touching you. Your eyes fluttered open, and you smiled softly as soon as you realized it was Peter. 

“Oh. Thanks,” you said, standing up to slide your empty notebook into your backpack. Your hand brushed the side of your mouth, making sure you hadn’t drooled onto yourself.

“You can borrow my notes,” he offered, glancing at you sheepishly as you gathered up your coat and fixed your hair. “If you want to.”

“That’d be great,” you sighed, wondering whether you should skip your next class and just go take a nap. At this point, you weren’t even bothering to put on makeup and you basically wore whatever clothes you had that weren’t already sprawled across your room.

“Are you alright?” Peter asked, walking close to you to make sure you didn’t fall over. He knew you were an insomniac, but you looked seriously sleep-deprived today. “Have you been sleeping at all lately?”

“Nope,” you huffed, lugging your perpetually heavy backpack along. “But I’m skipping the rest of my classes today. I’d rather lie that I’m sick through an e-mail than have to explain to my professors why I was sleeping during their classes.”

“Fair enough,” he agreed, stopping you in your tracks to take your backpack from you. “I’ve actually got some time before my next class. I can walk you back to your room and give you my notebook if that’s okay with you.”

“You don’t have to do that,” you told him, reaching to take your bag back from him, although he didn’t let you. 

“Y/N. Come on, you’re exhausted. At least let me carry your stuff, alright?” He had such a kind look in his eyes, and you certainly didn’t have the energy to keep arguing for no reason.

“Okay.” You crossed your arms, the cold air slowly waking you up as the wind hit your face. Your ears were super cold, but you were glad you had pulled your hair into a quick braid to keep it from flying everywhere.

It wasn’t long before you were kicking your boots off in your dorm room, your teeth chattering as you wrapped yourself in a blanket. 

“Do you want some tea?” you asked Peter, inviting him to sit down wherever.

“Sure, but I thought you drank coffee,” he reminded you, watching as you pulled an assortment of tea bags for him to choose from.

“I do,” you said, handing him the box and running to your bathroom to fill up the electric kettle. “But you drink tea.”

Peter’s ears suddenly felt hot. You had gotten tea just for him. Or maybe you were just a really good hostess and kept some around for all of your visitors. Probably the second option, he thought.

“Are you even allowed to have one of those?” he asked as the two of you waited for the water to boil.

“No,” you laughed, sitting next to him on your bed. For someone with so much space to themselves, you really needed to invest in more places to sit. “But you can’t have candles or fairy lights either, so I guess I’m just a rule breaker.”

“Guess I’ll just have to report you to the RA,” Peter teased, getting up to make himself a cup of earl grey. “Do you have any sugar?”

“Top drawer on the right,” you replied. “Do you have a sweet tooth?”

“Yes.” You watched as his lips blew on the tea to cool it down before remembering that it was weird to stare.

“You should let me bake something for you. What’s your favorite dessert?” You were kicking your dangling legs, suddenly feeling a lot more awake than this morning.

“Chocolate cake. With chocolate frosting,” he said in between sips, walking back over to you. With you on the tall bed and him standing, your faces were level with each other.

“I’ll have to make you one to thank you,” you smiled, peering into his eyes. Peter felt your heartbeat quicken, and the grin on your face as you stared at each other made him weak in the knees.

“Can I get those notes?” you asked, making him remember that people don’t just look at each other and say nothing like that.

“Oh! Yeah, definitely.” He quickly set the mug down on your nightstand to rummage through his backpack, flipping one of his notebooks open before handing it to you. “There are the ones from today, but all of the ones I’ve taken this semester are in there too.”

“Wow,” you laughed, making a worried expression form on his face.

“What’s wrong? Are they not good?”

“No, it’s not that. They’re just, uh, very thorough.” He had basically transcribed your professor’s lectures onto the pages. “You must write really fast. But thank you, Peter. I really appreciate it.”

Peter nodded before nervously gulping down the rest of his tea, not even noticing how hot the liquid still was as it nearly burned his throat. 

“I should go now,” he started, looking around the room for his things. “I want you to get some rest, Y/N. Please.”

He had this look in his eyes that was so genuine—so full of care and concern—that it made you want to do whatever he asked you to.

“I’ll try,” you told him, awkwardly rubbing the top of your arm in the hopes that you could actually fall asleep after he left. “Have a nice day, Peter.”

“Bye, Y/N. I’ll stop by later,” he said, already halfway out the door. “For the notes, I mean! Uh, bye. Again. Okay. I’m going to go now.” 

You giggled, giving him one last wave before he left. Like magic, the more you thought about how Peter was worried about you, the easier it was for you to drift off into a peaceful sleep, finally feeling at ease for the first time in weeks.

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

You woke up later that day to Peter knocking on your door, this time standing next to some guy in a brightly colored Hawaiian shirt.

“Hi, Y/N,” Peter greeted you. You looked a lot less tired than when he saw you this morning, which relieved him. “This is my roommate, Ned. He just wanted to know who I’ve been hanging out with, so I hope it’s okay that I brought him here to prove you’re real and not a figment of my imagination.”

Ned leaned closer to you, your hair still a little messy from your nap. “Blink twice if he’s paying you,” he whispered, causing you to giggle. Peter looked on nervously, unsure of what his best friend had just said to you.

“What did you say!?” he asked, lightly pushing Ned on the arm, knowing that it was probably something meant to embarrass him.

“Ow! Okay, now I’m really not telling you,” Ned replied, rubbing the spot where Peter had just hit him.

“Y/N, what did Ned say to you?” He turned to you, a worried look on his face as you and Ned held back your laughter. Peter’s face turned as red as a tomato, making you instantly feel a little bit bad. 

“It was nothing, Peter. Really,” you said, pulling him into the room with you. “It was nice to meet you, Ned. I’ll make sure he’s back before curfew.”

Ned laughed, offering a quick thumbs up and mouthing “I like her” to Peter before you shut the door on him.

“I knew that was a mistake,” Peter sighed, his back against the door. You were still a bit giddy from the exchange, giggling softly as he slowed his breathing.

“You don’t need to be embarrassed around me,” you reassured him. “We’re friends, right?”

“Yeah, of course. It’s just that…”

“What?” You could barely hear him as his voice trailed off.

“Well, uh, not all of my friends are, you know…”

“Spit it out, Peter,” you said, leaning closer so that you could hear him better.

“They’re not as pretty as you,” he muttered, making you blush at his words. Did he really think you were pretty?

“Oh. Thanks,” you smiled, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear. Peter lifted his head up, relieved that you didn’t think he was a creep or something.

“Your notebook’s on my desk,” you continued, stepping back a little to give him some space. You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding as the distance between you and him grew. “I just took a bunch of pictures, so I can look at them on my computer whenever.”

“Alright, awesome,” he said, walking over to collect it before turning back to you. “How’d you sleep?”

“Pretty well, actually. The best I’ve slept in a while. I think you’re some kind of good luck charm.”

“Really?” he asked, a little surprised that he had been helpful.

“Really. You know, I’ve been thinking…”

“Yeah?”

“Maybe it’d be nice if we hung out somewhere that wasn’t my room all the time,” you said, a hopeful look in your eyes. “If you want.”

Peter had never noticed it before, but the two of you really did spend most of your time together in your room. It really was a nice room, but it made sense that you’d want to get out of it every once and a while.

“I’d like that. What did you have in mind?” Play it cool, Parker, he told himself. You can freak out with Ned later.

“How about ice cream on Friday?” you suggested, which came as a bit of a surprise to him.

“In the middle of winter?” As far as Peter could remember, you were always cold.

“Yeah. I really love ice cream,” you added, smiling up at him.

“Okay, then. Ice cream it is,” he agreed. There was absolutely no way he could ever say no to you when you looked at him like that.

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

“May! No, it’s not a date. She’s just a friend. Yeah, I got it. Open the door, pay for her, don’t be an idiot!” Peter sighed into his phone, hoping his aunt’s unwarranted crash course on first dates would be over soon. “Yes, I’m wearing the green sweater. Thanks, love you. Bye!”

“I have no idea who told her I had a date tonight,” he groaned, slumping down onto the couch next to his best friend.

“I texted her,” Ned replied nonchalantly, not even looking away from whatever video game he was playing. “Knew you’d need some kind of pointers. Y/N is way out of your league.”

“Hey!” Was he right? Yes. Did Peter need to be reminded of it right before his not-a-date date with you? Definitely not.

“Come on, you know I’m right. It’s Liz Allan all over again. I have no idea how you keep pulling all of these pretty girls, but hey, credit where credit is due.”

“You’re so mean.”

“I keep it real and you love it. Good luck, man.”

“Bye,” Peter grumbled, slipping on his coat and walking out of their room. Four flights of stairs later, he was at your door.

“Hi!” you squeaked, wrapping your arms around him. This was the first time the two of you had ever hugged and Peter was not going to forget about it anytime soon. “Come in. I have a surprise for you!”

“Here,” you continued, holding out a blue and white beanie for him. “I made it for you. To match all those blue sweaters you wear all the time.” Except this time, he was wearing a forest green one, which brought out the slight hazel tinge in his eyes.

“You made this for me?” he asked, eyeing the different stitches you had used and fiddling with the pom-pom on top. It looked store-bought.

“Well, yeah, silly. I just said that,” you replied, hoping that he liked it. With all the time you didn’t sleep, you were knitting anyway, but this was a special present for him. “Try it on.”

“I didn’t get you anything,” he sighed, pulling the hat onto his head. He looked really cute, the ends of his wavy hair peeking out from underneath the brim.

“Don’t worry about it,” you said, pulling him out of your room and towards the front of the dorm building. “Getting to hang out with you is good enough for me.”

“Where’d you learn how to knit?” Peter questioned, walking alongside you on the snow-lined sidewalks. With how cold it was, and considering he didn’t have a hood on his coat, it seemed like perfect timing that you had given him a hat.

“My grandma taught me,” you shared, taking in the twinkling of the streetlamps and how they bounced against the snow. In New York, that was practically the closest you could get to stargazing. “My, uh, grandparents actually raised me.”

“Oh. I was raised by my aunt and uncle,” Peter confided. It made you feel not so alone to find out that he didn’t grow up with his parents either, even though you knew firsthand just how hard it was.

“Do they live around here?” you asked, stealing glances at him and how rosy his cheeks were in the cold air.

“Yeah, my aunt lives in Queens,” he told you, staring at his feet to both avoid eye contact and make sure neither of you accidentally slipped. Not that he wouldn’t catch you, but he wanted to be safe. “My uncle actually passed away a couple of years ago.”

You stopped walking, immediately feeling a sense of regret. “I’m sorry, Peter. I shouldn’t have asked.”

“It’s okay, Y/N. There was no way for you to have known that,” Peter reassured you, his warm breath coming out in clouds, and he reached for your hand to run his thumb across your knuckles. He gently pulled you along, keeping you from dying of embarrassment in the middle of campus.

“What about you? Are you from around here?” he asked, hoping to break the silence and make you feel a little bit better.

“No, I just moved up here for college. I grew up in Texas but moved to North Carolina when I was 13, so I finished school down there,” you explained, Peter suddenly noticing a slight Southern twang to your voice. “I just really wanted to go to school in a big city and not next to a farm for once in my life.” 

“That makes sense,” he laughed, wondering what it would be like to live somewhere else. “I’ve only ever lived in New York City.”

“Do you like it here?”

“I love it. Wouldn’t want to be anywhere else, to be honest.”

“Me either,” you sighed, squeezing his hand tighter as the two of you enjoyed your walk in the snow.

It seemed like forever before you reached the ice cream shop, but you didn’t mind. That just gave you and Peter more time to get to know each other better. Turns out you both competed in academic decathlons, although you were more of a math person and he preferred science.

“Okay, you’re wrong. Night at the Museum 2 is so much better than the first one. I mean that kiss between Ben Stiller and Amy Adams? The Jonas Brothers as little cherub angels? Name one thing from the original that tops that,” you ranted in between spoonfuls of peppermint ice cream.

“I just really like when the little cowboy and gladiator are driving that toy car around,” he reasoned, subtly admitting defeat.

“Don’t even get me started on why the second Shrek movie—”

You were interrupted by the sound of Peter’s phone ringing, and you immediately recognized his ringtone as the Coconut Mall theme from Mario Kart. He peered down at his phone screen, sighing and mouthing an apology to you as he accepted the call.

“Uh, hey, Mr. Stark. Did you need something?” Well, at least you knew he wasn’t lying about his internship at Stark Industries. “Toronto? Tonight? I’m kind of busy.”

There was a long pause as Peter mentally kicked himself for talking back to Tony, resulting in an earful about how being an Avenger should always be at the top of his priorities.

“Okay, okay. I’m sorry. I’ll be right over… but I need a favor. Could you send Happy to pick my friend up? Yeah, it’s the ice cream shop on 1st. Thank you so much, Mr. Stark. Bye.” He frowned at you, and you could tell from what you had heard that he had to go.

“I’m sorry, Y/N. It’s just, something came up last minute and Mr. Stark really needs me to go on this business trip with him,” he apologized, pulling his coat on. “But, uh, he’s sending a car for you. So don’t worry about walking back alone, alright? I’m so sorry. I’ll make it up to you when I get back, okay? Bye!”

“Oh, okay. Bye!” you managed to call out before he was running out the doors and down the street. Lots of customers were staring as you awkwardly gathered your things and went to go wait on the sidewalk.

A few minutes later, a shiny black car had pulled up to the curb in front of you, a man rolling down the window.

“Miss Y/N? I’m Happy Hogan. Mr. Stark sent me to drive you home,” he called from the driver’s seat, before getting out to open your door for you. You stepped in, a little starstruck at how nice the car was. You had never been in anything this expensive before. 

The two of you were sitting in silence until you finally got the courage to speak up. 

“Mr. Hogan,” you started, causing him to turn down the smooth jazz that had been playing on the radio. “Do you know why Peter has to go to Toronto?”

“Yes,” he replied, glancing at you in the rearview mirror. “But I can’t tell you that.”

“Oh, okay,” you accepted, shifting to look out the window at all of the places in the city that you hadn’t yet gotten the chance to explore. 

Eventually, he was dropping you off in front of your dorm, and you were trudging inside to your room to sulk about how your not-a-date date with Peter had gotten interrupted. You stared at your ceiling all night, wondering when the next time you’d see each other would be, and whether or not he’d come back with the same cuts and bruises as when you had first met.

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

Peter had been gone for six days and counting, and you were starting to worry that he might never come back. You had already started missing him the night he left, and now it was just some agonizing waiting game for him to return.

You must have spent hours in the basement kitchen before deciding to visit the fourth floor where Peter lived. You knocked on the door and was quickly met with Ned’s shocked expression.

“Uh, hi, Y/N. Peter’s not here right now. Did you need something?”

“I know,” you acknowledged, holding up the plate in your hand. “It’s just, well, I’ve been baking a lot and I didn’t really know who to give all of these cookies to, so I was wondering if you wanted any.”

“Oh, in that case, sign me up!” You watched as his face lit up as he noticed the assortment of chocolate chip, sugar, and snickerdoodle cookies all still warm from the oven. He offered his hands out to take the plate from you, which you happily relinquished. 

“These are really good,” he complimented, his mouth full of a sugar cookie. “Can I keep the rest of them?”

“Yeah, of course,” you answered, doing your best to smile despite how much you wished it had been Peter opening the door. “I’ll see you around, Ned.”

“Hey, Y/N,” he called out to you, making you turn around on the stairwell. “Don’t worry. I’m sure Peter’s going to be back any day now.” You nodded, offering him a wave and walking back down to your room.

Turns out Ned had been right. The strange noises outside of your window were masked by how loud you were jamming out to We Didn’t Start the Fire by Billy Joel, jumping around and listing off the lyrics that had never made much sense to you. Peter knocked louder on the glass, startling you as you quickly switched off the music to investigate.

“Holy shit,” you whispered, squinting your eyes to make sure you weren’t hallucinating. “Spider-Man? Is that really you?”

You fumbled to push up your window, extremely confused as to why one of the Avengers was outside your bedroom this late at night.

“It’s me, Y/N,” he explained, his voice suddenly becoming extremely familiar. Your eyes widened as you realized who was behind the mask.

“Oh my god! PETER?” you screamed as he slipped through the window, pulling off his mask and clapping a hand over your mouth.

“Don’t freak out. It’s okay. It’s just me, okay?” he stammered in an attempt to get you to calm down before an RA heard. “I’m sorry, Y/N. I really wanted to tell you, but we were in public when I left, and I couldn’t risk it. And I didn’t want to text it or do it over the phone because it’s kind of a big deal, so I figured I’d just come to see you as soon as I got back and Mr. Stark said that you have to promise—”

“It’s okay, Peter,” you interrupted, wrapping your arms around him and burying your face into the very weird material of his spider-suit. “I won’t tell anybody.”

He softened under your touch, resting his head on top of yours. “I like your dance moves,” he whispered, making you glare up at him, your face suddenly very red.

“How long were you watching?” you groaned, dramatically throwing yourself onto your bean bag, your face covered by your hands.

“Only for about a minute,” he answered, pulling your hands down so you could see him grinning at you. “I especially liked how you used your hairbrush as a microphone. Plus, I thought we agreed to stop being embarrassed around each other?”

“Well, that was before I knew you were freaking Spider-Man!”

“Okay, fair enough,” he agreed, nudging you to scoot over and make room for him.

“So, that’s what that whole Toronto thing was?” you asked as he sat next to you, your knee touching his.

“Yep. There was this thing about aliens and these guys that could shapeshift. It’s a lot to explain.”

“Are you going to keep that thing on all night?” you asked, gesturing at his outfit, which was very tight and very distracting from whatever alien story he had to tell.

“Oh. Yeah, I guess so,” he shrugged. “I don’t have anything on underneath it.”

“How scandalous,” you teased. “Not so family-friendly after all, huh, Spidey?”

“Oh, shut up,” he quipped, rolling his eyes as you let out a long yawn.

“Have you been sleeping much?” he continued, suddenly remembering the issue that had brought the two of you together in the first place.

“Of course not. I’ve been too busy worrying about my classes and, oh, just some idiot I know that abandoned me in the middle of an ice cream shop. Pretty sure he said he’d make that up to me, by the way.”

“Okay, okay. Message received. What would you like?” Please say a kiss. Please say a kiss. Please say a—

“Can I meet them? The Avengers, I mean. It’s not like anyone else really has a secret identity except for you.”

“Oh. I mean, I’d have to ask Mr. Stark and the rest of the team and see if they’re cool with it, but I’ll see what I can do.”

“Awesome! You’re the best,” you chimed, wrapping your arms around him and planting a kiss on his cheek.

It was then that Peter decided he would just never be able to wash that side of his face again, his heart nearly skipping a beat.

“Peter,” you said, breaking the silence he had left the two of you in. “I’m tired.”

“Me too,” he sighed. “I should head up to my room. Gotta make sure Ned knows I’m still alive.”

“Yeah, of course,” you agreed, standing up to see him out. “Aren’t you worried somebody will see you, though?”

“Y/N, it’s 4 a.m. I’m pretty sure that you and I are the only people on campus that are awake right now.”

“Oh, right. Still, be careful, okay?” you told him, slightly worried at his secret identity being found out by some college kid that just couldn’t stay off Twitter.

“Will do,” he said, smiling and giving you a little salute before leaving.

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

A few days later, before you could even greet him, Peter was already walking into your room. It was 10 p.m., a little earlier than when he usually came over, but by now you were used to him showing up at your door unannounced.

He was already wearing his pajamas, a t-shirt with a science pun and some flannel pants that he had invested in to avoid any more awkward moments between the two of you. You were dressed in leggings and a sweatshirt, the clothes you usually threw on after class just in case you fell asleep on accident. There had been more times where you had woken up sweaty with your jeans stuck to your legs than you were willing to admit.

“Okay, so I asked Mr. Stark about your request and he told me he doesn’t think now is a good time, but…” he grinned, holding out a giant cardboard box with some kind of minimalist home appliance on the front for you to look at.

“Am I supposed to know what that is?” you blinked back, trying to figure out what the hell you were staring at, considering that all of the text written on it was in a language you didn’t know how to read.

“It’s some fancy white noise machine from Japan. If I remember correctly, Mr. Stark said he made Pepper order it because I wouldn’t shut up about you, and it would be in everybody’s best interest if you got some sleep, so I could stop annoying him and the rest of the team.”

“Oh. That’s pretty thoughtful, I guess,” you said, gathering things off your floor to make space for it.

He set the box down on your rug and got to work opening it. Meanwhile, you were busy translating what exactly Tony Stark had so generously gifted to you.

“Peter, wait. This thing is like $300. Doesn’t he know that you can just look up whale noises on YouTube for free?”

“Yeah, but this one adjusts its volume based on the noises around it, has a light that simulates the sun rising, and has an alarm noise that’s supposed to support healthy cortisol levels.”

Peter peered up to see your arms crossed and brows furrowed, it suddenly becoming clear to him that the things he had just listed meant very little to you.

“Plus, he’s a literal billionaire, so I don’t think it was that big of a loss for him,” he added.

“Fine. Let’s just hope this thing works,” you sighed, watching as Peter leafed through the instruction manual before tossing it behind him. “It’s a little early to go to sleep, though.”

“Y/N, plenty of people go to sleep at 10. Not everybody is nocturnal like you.”

“I guess you have a point,” you agreed, kneeling down beside him as he fiddled with all the settings.

“I know,” he said with a smirk as you rested your chin on his shoulder to get a better look at what he was doing. “What time do you want to wake up? 7 a.m. would give us time to go get breakfast before class, but we could do 8 if you wanted to sleep in.”

“We?” you mused, liking the sound of that. “I guess that means you’re staying here tonight?”

“Well, yeah. I’m not letting you have all these overpriced rainforest noises to yourself.”

“Do 7. We can go get those blueberry muffins that you like,” you decided, standing up to get Peter’s makeshift bed on your bean bag ready. “Do you actually like sleeping on this thing, or were you just trying to be polite the first time I asked?”

“Dude, that thing is awesome. It’s like I’m on this little cuddly cloud, and then you add all those warm blankets and the twinkly lights and it’s the perfect recipe for me to fall asleep.”

“Wow,” you nodded, looking around your room to see all of the things that Peter was talking about. “I wish it worked that way for me.”

“Maybe it will, tonight.”

It didn’t. You were tossing and turning for nearly an hour to the agonizing sounds of birds cawing and the occasional monkey chatter, all set against the backdrop of a heavy thunderstorm. To be honest, it was something that would’ve given you nightmares when you were little.

“Y/N?” Peter whispered from the floor. “Are you sleeping?”

“No.”

“Me neither.”

“Could you turn that thing off? It’s really distracting me.”

“Yeah, of course,” he said, leaning over to switch the noise machine off. “Can I ask you something?”

“You can ask me anything.”

He hesitated, not really sure if he should ask the question that he had been thinking about for a while now. “How old were you when your parents died?”

You had to think for a moment, not really sure about the answer. For as long as you could remember, you just lived with your grandparents. “Um, well my mom left when I was a baby. And I think my dad passed away when I was four.”

“Oh,” Peter mumbled. He couldn’t imagine what it would be like to have a parent leave you, but he didn’t want to pry just in case it was a sensitive topic. “Are your grandparents from your mom or dad’s side?”

You rolled over to rest your head on the edge of your bed so that you could see him better. He looked so cute bundled up in all of your blankets, his hair already a bit messy. “They’re my mom’s parents. It’s weird. I see a lot of pictures of her from when she was growing up, and I look so much like her, but she’s basically a stranger to me.”

Peter opened his mouth to say something else, but there was a long pause and he decided not to.

“What about you? How old were you when your parents passed away?”

“Five or six. They met while working at the C.I.A. together, but most of my memories are from the stories my aunt and uncle told me when I was growing up.”

For a moment, neither of you could find the right words to say to each other.

“Peter,” you spoke up, interrupting his thoughts. “I’m really glad I met you.”

“I’m really glad I met you too.”

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

Peter’s next plan of action involved even more advice from his fellow Avengers, and you were not looking forward to trying out any of their suggestions. 

“Okay, so, Steve—I mean Captain America—said that when he was little, you know, in the 1940s, all he had to do was drink a glass of warm milk before bed.”

“I’m lactose intolerant,” you groaned, crossing your arms.

“I just saw you eat an entire pint of Ben and Jerry’s in one sitting the other day.”

“Regular milk has almost 15 times more lactose than ice cream. You’d think a science nerd like you would know that.”

“I’m a geek,” he scoffed, clearly a little bit offended. “Not a nerd.”

“Yeah, I can see that now. It’s okay, though. At least you’re pretty,” you said, pinching his cheek.

“Just try it,” he grumbled, handing you the warm glass and waiting impatiently for you to take a sip. If anything, the milk did a better job at keeping you up that night than putting you to sleep. Not even thirty minutes after you had gone to bed, you were feeling sick to your stomach.

“I hate milk,” you gagged, Peter holding your hair back as you kneeled over the toilet bowl. “My grandpa could never get me to drink it as a kid.”

“Is that why you’re so short?” he laughed, helping you up. You glared at him as you moved to the sink to wash the acidic taste out of your mouth.

“Shut up, Parker,” you quipped, tired and grumpy from how terrible you felt. “Let’s just go back to sleep.”

“Alright, munchkin,” he smiled, pulling you out of the bathroom and back towards your bed.

Somehow, the warm milk wasn’t even the worst of Peter’s ideas, because a few days later, he was standing at your door with a bottle of some Asgardian sleep aid from the lightning god himself.

“Are you sure this is safe for me to drink?” you asked, your eyes widening as you stared at the silvery liquid that was almost shimmering.

“Uh, I’m about 87% confident you’ll live,” he said, “But I’m 100% sure that it’ll work.”

“Gee, thanks. Now I really want to drink this weird alien potion,” you sighed, looking at him nervously.

“Just drink a little bit and see if you feel anything,” Peter encouraged, leaning over your shoulder. You nodded, hesitantly bringing the drink up to your lips to take a sip.

“This stuff tastes amazing,” you mused, taking a bigger gulp this time. “Like a blue raspberry slushie.”

“Whoa, that’s enough,” he warned, taking the bottle from your hands before you could drink any more of it. “We don’t want you to go into a coma.”

“I don’t feel anything,” you shrugged, frowning back at him. “Maybe I should—”

You stopped mid-sentence to let out a loud yawn, the potion starting to take effect. Peter caught you as you slumped down in your chair, helping you into bed.

“Okay. I definitely feel it now,” you admitted, already half asleep. Peter tucked you under your blankets, placing a kiss on your forehead as your eyes fluttered shut.

“Sweet dreams, Y/N,” he whispered, turning off your lights and softly closing the door behind him. 

For a moment, Peter had thought he had finally found a solution to your insomnia. At least before you slept through class the next morning. And then the day after that. But it wasn’t until the third day that he really started to freak out.

“Where’s Thor!?” he panted, having run all the way from his class over to the Avengers Tower. Wanda and Vision stared back at him from the kitchen, very confused at what he was so panicked about.

“He’s in his room,” Bucky called from the couch, his mouth full of popcorn as 13 Going on 30 played on the big screen. “What’s going on, kid?”

“No time to explain. Gotta go!” Peter called, sprinting up the stairs towards Thor’s room. He knocked frantically until the door finally swung open.

“Greetings, young Spiderling. To what do I owe the pleasure?” Thor smiled, his long, golden hair shiny as ever.

“I think I killed my almost-girlfriend!” Peter blurted out, practically sweating from how stressed out he was. “She drank that stuff you gave me and she hasn’t woken up in three days now!”

Thor chuckled, patting Peter on the head. “Do not worry, my brother. I’m sure she will wake up given time. It was a very potent drink, after all. Calm yourself.”

“Okay,” he sighed, relieved to know that he hadn’t poisoned you to death. “Cool. Cool, cool, cool. She’s fine. Everything’s fine. Thanks, man. I’ll, uh, I’ll see you around.”

“Farewell, Peter. May we meet again soon,” he grinned before closing the door in Peter’s face.

On the way back down the stairs, Peter figured he’d give you a call and see if you were still sleeping.

“Hello?” you groaned, your throat dry from just waking up. “Peter, what the hell happened to me?”

“THANK GOD YOU’RE ALIVE!” Peter yelled into the phone, making you recoil from the volume of his excitement. “You’ve been asleep for three days, Y/N. I thought you were dead.”

“I am very much alive,” you laughed, slowly feeling the potion wearing off. “Where are you?”

“Uh. I may have run all the way to Midtown to ask Thor if I had killed you,” he admitted, feeling you roll your eyes through the screen. “I was worried, okay?”

“Now you know how I feel whenever you leave for a mission,” you countered, glad that Peter couldn’t see how much you were blushing. “Hurry up and get your butt back over here. I have the weirdest dream to tell you about.”

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

Even if you still weren’t getting a full eight hours of rest at night, it was obvious that all of Peter’s efforts had vastly improved your sleep schedule. Over the past few months, you had gone from staring at your ceiling all night to actually being able to stay asleep for small periods of time.

“Your eyelashes are so long,” you mused, playing with Peter’s hair. He was sitting in between your legs and How the Grinch Stole Christmas was playing on your TV.

“Really?” He tilted his head back to look at you, batting his eyelashes and making you giggle.

“Yes. It’s not fair that boys get all of the pretty eyelashes,” you pouted, watching as the Grinch explained his plan to steal all of Whoville’s presents to his dog.

“I think yours are pretty,” he replied, a soft smile on his face. “But there’s a rogue one just hanging out on your face right now.”

“Can you get it?” you asked, your eyes still glued on the TV screen. Peter nodded, twisting around to gently brush the eyelash from your cheek.

“Do you want to make a wish?” he laughed, holding the little eyelash on the tip of his finger in front of you.

“Okay,” you agreed, squeezing your eyes shut and blowing it away. When you opened them, Peter’s face was only inches away from yours.

“What did you wish for?” His gaze shifted downwards to look at your lips for a split second, before returning to look into your eyes.

“I can’t tell you, dummy. Then it won’t come true.” You weren’t about to tell your best friend that you wished for him to kiss you. At least not now, while the two of you were stuck in this really weird “not dating, but more than just friends” limbo.

“Fine,” he frowned, crossing his arms and pouting in a way that you recognized had been mimicked after you.

“Don’t make fun of me,” you said, mirroring his stance. Your puppy dog eyes were definitely a lot more convincing than his.

“I’m not.”

“Uh-huh, sure. You smell really good, by the way. Well, your hoodie does. I could just wrap myself up in it and fall asleep.”

“How come you’ve never mentioned that before? You could’ve been out cold every night months ago!”

“Guess I was just too distracted by your dreamy face,” you teased, causing Peter to blush.

“Whatever. Seriously, though. Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I don’t know. I think it took me a while to realize how sleepy I got whenever you were really close to me,” you shrugged. “You’re not mad at me, right?”

“Of course not. But if I had known sooner I would’ve just given you one,” he said, slipping the hoodie over his head and handing it to you. “Here, put it on. You better fall asleep instantly or I’m calling bullshit.”

“You caught me, Peter. This was all some elaborate plan for me to steal one of your hoodies.”

“Just put it on. The suspense is killing me.”

You rolled your eyes and pulled his hoodie on. Just from looking at Peter and how slim he was, you never would have guessed that it would be this oversized on you.

“How do I look?” you asked, striking silly poses in front of him. Peter involuntarily licked his lips and he knew he’d be replaying this image of you in his head for the next few weeks.

“You’re going to have to keep that,” he stammered, doing his best to hide how much he really liked seeing you in his clothes. “It looks a lot better on you. I, um, have to go do my homework. And call my aunt. And walk my roommate.”

Peter stumbled to his feet, staring at his wristwatch to maintain his act that he was late for something before grabbing his things and heading out the door, making sure to hold his backpack in front of him. “Let me know if the hoodie thing works. Bye!”

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

Brushing off Peter’s strangely abrupt departure from last night, you nuzzled into your pillow, the warm morning light spilling through your curtains. Last night had probably been your best sleep in months, and you even got to wake up late since it was Saturday. Things probably couldn’t have gone any better.

Before you knew it, you were running up to Peter’s room and banging on his door. He opened the door on your fourth knock, right after Ned had chucked a pillow at him, and you were met with his sleepy eyes and messy hair.

“It worked!” you yelped in excitement, twirling around and still wearing his hoodie. “Well, kind of. I fell asleep after about an hour, and then I slept for maybe three after that. But I had to pee in the middle of the night, and when I got back into bed I couldn’t fall back asleep until 6 a.m.”

“That’s some good progress,” he yawned, stepping out into the hallway to keep your little celebration from bothering Ned too much. “If only we could get you to sleep the entire night.”

“I know right. But I’m so happy!” you cheered, wrapping your arms around him. “We finally did something right!”

“We need to celebrate!” you continued, grabbing Peter’s hand and dragging him down the stairs. “Come on. We’re making you a chocolate cake!”

You stopped by your room on the way to the kitchen, piling a bunch of ingredients into Peter’s arms from your mini-fridge and various shelves.

“Okay, eggs, flour, butter, sugar, chocolate. Damn it. We’re all out of milk.” You side-eyed him, remembering the whole Captain America induced fiasco from a couple weeks ago. 

“I think we might have some in our room,” Peter laughed. “Ned drinks a lot of milk mixed with Milo powder. It’s some obsession he picked up when his family took a vacation to Australia. I’ll go get it.”

He set all of the ingredients you had given him on your desk and sprinted back up the stairs to raid Ned’s stash, already thinking of ways to apologize for it later.

A few minutes later he was knocking on your door, out of breath, and dressed to brave the many inches of snow that had fallen overnight. 

“We didn’t have any milk,” he panted. “But I can run to the dining hall and get a few cartons.”

“I’ll go with you.” You quickly pulled on your snow boots and layered your puffer coat on top of Peter’s hoodie, wrapping a hand-knit scarf around your neck just to be safe. “All ready.”

Getting the milk was the easy part. Making sure you didn’t die of frostbite was another story. By the time you and Peter got back to your room, your nose was super red and you couldn’t feel your toes.

“Okay,” you said, your teeth chattering. “I thought I was used to the snow by now, but that was something else.” You dropped your coat on the ground and climbed into your bed, burying yourself under your comforter.

“I thought we were making a cake,” he laughed, walking over to see you peeking out of the pile.

“Cake will have to wait,” you whined, your voice slightly muffled by the blanket. “Come here. I need some of your body heat.”

“Okay,” he stuttered, kicking off his sneakers and climbing in beside you. He had sat on your bed a lot since the two of you met, but this was the first time that he was actually laying in it. You snuggled up to him, and he hesitantly wrapped his arms around you.

“This is nice,” you sighed, nuzzling your head into his chest. “Is this one of your superpowers? Spidey-warmth?” Peter let out a soft laugh. It was silly but true. Ever since the bite, he never really noticed how cold it was outside anymore.

“Y/N,” he whispered, tightening his grip around your waist. Your head was nestled underneath his chin, and he could smell the faint citrus scent of your shampoo. “I need to tell you something.”

“What is it, Pete?” you yawned, your eyelids heavy from how comfy Peter’s cuddles were.

“I love you.” He held his breath, nervously waiting for you to respond.

“I know,” you giggled, intertwining your legs. “Sometimes, you talk in your sleep. You’ve probably professed your love for me at least eight times by now.”

“Oh.” Peter had no idea how he was supposed to respond to that.

“Don’t worry. I love you, too,” you assured him, grinning and placing little kisses on his jawline. “I thought that was obvious.”

“Maybe you could make it a little more obvious,” he mumbled, his heartbeat getting quicker as you shifted up to kiss him on the lips, your hand running through his hair.

“I will,” you smiled, your forehead resting against his. “But after we take a nap, okay?”

“Okay,” Peter agreed, snuggling as close as he possibly could to you, never wanting to let go. In no time at all, he watched happily as you fell asleep in his arms, wondering how the two of you hadn’t thought of this sooner.

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

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