#set on fainting him just like they did all his team
Note
Rose is a little bitch. He'd might get along well with Belos.
Their plans are almost the exact same thing.
Belos just wants to murder everyone, while Rose is , albeit misguidedly , trying to save everyone's future.
Both try and bring about a special day (day of unity ,and darkest day) thinking it will further their goal , and the very dangerous thing they've been messing with isn't going to come back and bite them ( The Collector and Eternatus)
They also had a teen under their control that they were manipulating (Leon won his champion title in his teens) . And yeah Rose gives off the same vibes as Belos but even more. Because Leon is his little poster boy for strong trainers looking out for galar's safety . So of course Rose would want to keep him on a tight leash, and to keep him loyal, like what Belos did with the grimwalkers .
They're both idiots.
We should have sent Rose out onto the roof to deal with Eternatus . Yes I know he'd lose (he's a steel type specialist and Eternatus has a fire type move), but maybe if Eternatus uses Rose like a squeaky dog toy , maybe it would've calmed down.
I just don't like Rose . Honestly I just want Eternatus to wreak his shit.
Temporarily forgot about this guy and am now feral again (/pos but not in the way of liking the character, /pos in the way he's an v well written character and I enjoy despising him) I hate this little motherfucker so much I'm gonna ramble like no tomorrow in the tags
#Yes 100000% to having Eternus use Rose as a squeaky toy#But also consider: just throwing Rose off the building's roof before dealing with Eteranus the same way#Gotta say I love your way of making making him face the fucking consequences of his actions head on 💖💖💖💖💖#I want him to get seriously hurt 💖💖💖💖 I want him to try and fight Eteranus in a regular ol' pokemon battle#only for his team to get completely destroyed and for Eteranus to go after the only thing it still sees moving#Him.#I want his to tremble in fear knowing that he was completely defenceless up against power that he can't even fathom#And his only potential savior is the one who shoved him out to go deal with the problem#AND that he's been nothing short of creul to the player this whole time#>:3#I hope Eternatus sees him as nothing more than other pokemon in their confusion and rage#set on fainting him just like they did all his team#and I REALLY /REALLY/ hope Rose experiences the worst fear he's ever had in realizing that a human cannot withstand#even a SLIVER of what Eteranus would do to faint a pokemon#Poor little meow meow </3 (derogatory)#MAYBEEEEE the player can save Rose in the end#Not out care for Rose of couse#Maybe out of worry for Eternatus' mental and physical health if they were to continue on rampaging and frenzying#They can settle eith Rose just having SEVERE psychological trauma instead of death (◡ ω ◡)#And holy FUCK you are so right on all your comparisons between Belos and Rose#I also do not know how but this had made me hate (/pos) Rose even more O_o#Bastard gets the first place medal for ''biggest asshole in Galar''#And the idea of Rose and Belos getting along is so interesting to me!!!!!#I feel like they'd need to at least partially get over some of their own egos before they can tolerate a person so similar to themselves#however I am VERY interested at how sticking the two of them in a room with no escape would turn out#I have no idea how it'd end myself but I'm very curious#maddymayhearts#Hearts my beloved /p#asks#Apologies for going off probably a bit too much on how I want to see Rose suffer. ^^' Hope you don't mind!!
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you see when you did a fic abt reader getting a lil clingy when she’s tired , can we pls have it w aaron instead. like they’re all on the jet and he just puts a hand on her knee or keeps on giving her forehead kisses every second, or even he gets so tired to the point he falls asleep w his head on her shoulder
sleep deprived
clingy aaron my beloved cw; bau!reader, fluff <3
After many years of practice, Aaron's rather proud of his resilience to remain awake and alert despite extreme fatigue.
Some cases called for either little or no sleep at all. Was it his favorite thing to do? No - it knocked his body completely off schedule, worsened with time spent on the West Coast. Had he been exhausted? Absolutely. But he could ignore the feeling well, working just as diligently as if he had gotten a full night's rest.
Frequent helpings of caffeine also assisted.
But when a case resolved and the urgency was dismissed - it was like a switch flipped in his brain. His mind and body knew before he could fully process it, and he felt it. Sleep deprived brain fog, a newly significant heaviness to his body, more irritable if certain buttons were pushed.
He couldn't wait to be home. He couldn't wait to be in the comfort of bed. He couldn't wait for you to be at his side, secure and close in sleep.
Each one of those thoughts correlated to each heavy step as he trudged up the jet's stairs, his eyes latching onto you immediately upon entry.
You were stationed at the kitchenette, head down as you prepared your favorite soothing, nighttime tea.
A wave of affection rippled through him; simply seeing you made him long for you desperately, although you were near and already his. The love he felt for you was unfathomable already, but in a sleep deprived state, it was enhanced greatly. He wanted - no, had to be as close as possible, to be entirely consumed by you.
After storing his go-bag, he swiftly (and slightly clumsily) moved behind you, hands finding your waist easily.
"Hey," you greeted, steeping your tea. Your voice was soft, and he could hear the faint smile in your voice.
"Hey," Aaron echoed in a mumble, his hands sliding forward from your hips to your abdomen. "How are you."
You hummed gently, leaning back to lightly touch your head to his, closing the tiny gap that separated the two of you. "Better now that we're going home."
With your back to his chest, you felt his agreeable chuckle shake through him.
"You want a cup?"
"No, I'm okay." Truthfully, he was certain he would fall asleep before the rim of the mug touched his lips. His head turned, pressing a long kiss to your temple, speaking into it, "Thank you though."
His lips lingered while you finished prepping your tea, adding light honey and lemon. With you in his arms, matching your evenly distributed breaths, Aaron's hold wasn't only to hold you, but to keep him standing upright. The lights on the jet had already been dimmed, as everyone settled down for the red eye flight, so that wasn't helping his tiredness either. He was just as comfortable as if he were in his bed at home.
You felt him nodding off. His arms - unknown to him, as he thought otherwise - were loosening, his figure even swaying the smallest amount. You hurried, knowing he probably wouldn't claim his seat without you at his side. And when you made your way over, Aaron followed like a lost puppy, his fingers grasping onto the back of your shirt.
Your blanket was already at your seat; after setting your tea aside, you draped it over your lap, offering half to Aaron. You even managed to pry him out of his suit jacket and tie.
His hand started out in yours, before finding home on your thigh - enjoying the comfort of contact. His fingers were splayed across the width, keeping you as close as the seats could awkwardly offer. Part of him considered persuading Reid from his usual spot, allowing the two of you a turn to lie down.
But it was Spencer's favorite spot, the rest of the team would never let him live down visibly 'cuddling', and he was too tired to move, so the regular seats would have to do.
His thumb began brushing against the fabric of your pants, the lull bringing him closer to sleep. He placed a kiss on your shoulder, then your jaw, before nestling his head on your shoulder.
A faint blush trickled onto your face, feeling warm from both the tea and the open tenderness. "Aaron?"
A very drowsy, "Hm?" came from below your ear.
You simply leaned your head against his, a contentful sigh leaving you. Under the blanket, your hand rest atop his, giving his fingers a gentle squeeze.
Aaron's eyes remained closed, but a sleepy smile made its way onto his face. In the smallest of whispers, "I love you too."
#aaron hotchner x reader#aaron hotchner#aaron hotchner fluff#aaron hotchner x you#aaron hotchner x fem!reader#aaron hotch x reader#aaron hotchner imagine#criminal minds#criminal minds x reader#criminal minds x you#criminal minds drabble#aaron hotchner drabble#criminal minds imagine#criminal minds fanfiction#hotch imagine#criminal minds x fem!reader
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Would you be up for writing a fanfic with Lando or Max x reader where reader also races but due to the training and harsh training her team and trainer are putting her through develops an ED (common among competitive sports and I’ve got experience 😭) maybe Reader faints or her bf finds out? No problem if not 😘 love your writing!
Those inward struggles - Max Verstappen x Driver! Reader
Plot: After having to change you diet and do more work after struggling in Singapore you spend a year on strict training away from your boyfriends knowledge. What happens when a year on and people are noticing how much more exhausted your looking after each race.
Warnings: Eating Disorder, Reader Being Sick
Singapore and Qatar 2022 was extremely hard for you. Your body temperature in the car didn't regulate that well and you lost way more weight than any other driver.
You new that the 2023 season was going to be even harder with where the races were placed in the year.
Your physician wanted you to keep the weight off. The lower your body mass, the less you'd struggle with the heat. That was their thought process and that's what they deemed best for you as a woman. So of course, you trusted the team's decisions and you started to train more, and eating in a calorie deficit.
They'd come up with a plan for you to loose a safe amount in a safe amount of time, however it almost felt like a competition and you wanted to be as ready as possible.
At first it was hard, you craved sugar and grease the most but eventually once the majority was out of your system the vegetables and fruits started to taste like when you have a sip of that half stagnant water at 3am when your body decided to lower your thirst bar all the way down.
Max as a driver had also seen how much more you were with your personal trainer, and how it didn't just stop when you got home as you would often be in your home gym.
You'd serve yourself less and meals than him and he noticed these little things. Of course he did, he'd been obsessed with you since he was a 13 year old and both of you met in karting.
You started dating a year before he got into F1 quite literally being the definition of childhood romance. But this did mean that he knew you like the back of his hand.
"Baby, how about a sweet treat?" he asks holding up your fav type of cookie waving it in front of your face.
"I really shouldn't, I think the team wouldn't be happy if they found out I was eating more than i should!" you explain to him, continuing to wash the dishes from earlier that night.
"But... you didn't have much for dinner and you skipped lunch!" he asks remembering what you'd eaten throughout the day.
"Oh? So your keeping tabs on me now?" you ask looking him over with a soft yet teasing frown.
"Well, when your with me for a good portion of the day I notice" he grumbles making you turn your head to him at that tone, it wasn't one he used often.
"Huh?" you say leaving the dishes fully in the sink before placing a hand on your hip.
"Look, It's not just me noticing it but your not healthy right now!" Max offers and you turn back round to do the washing up.
Your trainer said you might feel a little tired and icky while you were on such a strict diet but once you'd got to your goal weight you'd feel better.
"Please just eat the cookie!" he smiles and you roll your eyes. You take the cookie and finish it off under his watchful eye. It tasted so good, but you almost gagged at how heavy the chocolate felt at the back of your throat and how you could feel the chunkiness of the chewed batter.
There wasn't that fresh aftertaste you been getting recently from the various fruits and veges you'd been relying on to get you eating something.
You gagged at something that used to be a delicacy too you, something that would excite you. However you finished it off to please Max. Once he was satisfied you had your filling he explained he was going out to a set with Lando, Daniel and Charles.
You'd already said you wanted to stay home today.
The minute he was out the door you were in the bathroom getting the sugary sweet treat out of your body, feeling disgusting from having had it.
The guilt was eating away at you the minute you had it, you knew just how unhappy the trainer would be. You spent the rest of the evening in the gym, weighing yourself before and after the session.
To your dismay there was no improvement and you sat in the gym crying over you predicament.
It was time for the 2023 Qatar Grand Prix, you were already struggling just walking round the paddock in the areas that didn't have aircon. When you'd done your track walk, you could feel the damp sweat on areas of your body you didn't know was possible.
However, you pushed and pushed yourself through the whole weekend, you drunk lots of water and made sure to keep up with the exercising and kept eating to a minimum.
When you'd got in the car for the first practice your hard work seemed to pay of, coming P4. Again in qualifying you'd had a fastest lap in Q2 and split the Mercedes up Q3 coming P3 behind Max and George. Both of these weren't too bad, it was in short bursts that didn't make you too hot.
However as the weekend moved forward, it was obvious to your team, to Max and to the media that you were becoming more and more exhausted. A lot of people noted that your tailored race suit was starting to bag in places it shouldn't and that you had sunken areas on your face, making you look all the more exhausted.
The Sprint shootout was awful, you placing 9th fastest overall, which compared to your earlier racing was no good for you or your team.
You only managed to move up one place to P8 in the Sprint, meaning you were in the points but you were taken to the medical tent after reporting feeling dizzy and your sight spotting.
Max had headed over to the Aston Martin garage asking for you, all the mechanics just saying you were still with medical. He rushed over, quicker than his car on a flying lap as no-body actually knew what was wrong with you.
"Y/N?" you'd heard as he'd come storming in looking around for you.
"I'm in here!" you said and he came over taking your hand in his.
"What's going on, what's wrong?" he asks looking over you.
"Nothing, just had a bit of a migraine. Apparently not enough water!" you lie, knowing the doctors were still doing tests but they said you were free to leave.
You'd left, he'd comforted you at the hotel making sure you had everything you could possibly need before you both slept away the tire of the day.
Sunday of course was a shit show. Medical still hadn't fully worked out what was wrong with you and they were debating pulling you from the race. You'd refused saying you were fine to race.
You were 20 laps in when your vision started to blur until ringing in your head occurred.
You tried to keep up with the fluids from your drinks tube but they were just heating up along with everything else in the car.
"Y/N are you okay. Medical have just deemed you should be racing. We want to retire you" your engineer comes through at lap 50.
"7 more laps, I'll be fine" you groan. You'd managed to stick to P4 for the majority of the race. But now that vision in your left eye was pretty poor you were taking turns a little more hesitantly meaning you were down in P6.
You defended from Ocon like your life depended on it, and finally pulled up to the area where the cars sit when the race it over. You sit in the car, in silence trying to get your vision back and stop shaking.
You body ran cold, you were shivering now and could feel the cold sweat in your suit, you wanted to reach up and take your helmet off more than anything but your arms didn't obey.
So you just sat there, until some Aston Martin mechanics came through with water. They helped you out and up handing you a bottle of water. But with the ringing not having stopped your vision completely went as you fell back onto the hard ground of the track.
Max once he'd found out his team and your team and pretty much everyone had kept you fainting from him a secret he had yelled, a lot, at anyone and everyone he could.
Even Lando and Oscar in the cool down room had to be at the receiving end of his wrath.
After his podium that he had tried to make as quick as possible he was right with you. Yelling at everyone while making sure you were getting the correct medical attention.
When he found out the reason behind you fainting and the fact that you drove the last few laps half sighted he was back to MAD MAX, and oh boy it wasn't a pretty sight.
He couldn't believe your team who were supposed to make sure you were in the best health had actually been hindering you and not helping you.
To say the he and Rupert his own personal trainer would be taking over from now on and he'd be hiring a private nutritionist to get you back on track to your starting F1 weight in 2022.
He loved you and would do anything for you.
Taglist:
@littlesatanicassholebitch @hockey-racing-fubol @laura-naruto-fan1998 @22yuki @simxican @sinofwriting @lewisroscoelove @cmleitora @stupidandunnecessary @clayra-g @daemyratwst @honey-belden @moonypixel @lauralarsen @vader-is-hot @ironcowboycopnickel @itsjustkhaos @the-untamed-soul @beebo86 @happylittlereader @ziejustme @lou-larcher5 @thewulf @purplephantomwolf @chasing-liberosis @chillyleclerc @chanthereader @annoyingmoonballoon @summissss @evieepepi08 @havaneseoger08 @celesteblack08 @gulphulp @fandom1ruined2me @celebstories @starfusionsworld @jspitwall @sierruhh @georgeparisole @dakotatankbig @youcannotcancelquidditch @zzonsbeek @tallbrownhairsarcastic @mellowarcadefun @ourteenagetragedy @otako5811 @countingstacksandpanicattacks @peachiicherries @formulas-bitch @cherry-piee @hopexcroc @mirrorball-6 @spilled-coffee-cup @mehrmonga @bigsimperika @blueberry64857959 @eiraethh @lilypadlover @curseofhecate @alliwantisadonut @the-fem1n1ne-urge @21stcenturytaegi @dark-night-sky-99 @spideybv28 @i-wish-this-was-me @tallrock35 @butterfly-lover @barnestatic @landossainz @darleneslane @barcelonaloverf1life @r0nnsblog @ilove-tswizzle @kapsylia @laneyspaulding19 @lazybot @malynn @cassielikereading @viennakarma @teamnovalak @landosgirlxoxo @marie0v @jlb20416 @yourbane @teamnovalak @nikfigueiredo @fionaschicken @0picels0 @seomako @urdad-hot @formula1mount @tinydeskwriter @butterfly-lover @ironmaiden1313
#f1 imagine#f1 x reader#formula 1 x you#formula one#formula 1#formula one fanfiction#max verstappen x you#max verstappen x reader#max verstappen imagine#max verstappen fanfic#max verstappen#mv1#mv33#mv1 x reader#mv1 imagine#mv1 fic#mv1 x you#mv33 x reader#mv33 imagine#mv33 fic#mv33 x you
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compression. (sakusa kiyoomi x reader)
summary: atsumu is the perfect person to feed your obsession with kiyoomi’s arms.
word count: 1172
warnings: swearing, very mildly suggestive (if you squint), detailed descriptions of kiyoomi’s arms in compression sleeves so it’s not for the faint hearted
tags: @keiva1000 @kindnessspreads @msbyomimi
When you studied Marketing and Communications in university, you didn’t exactly anticipate that your future would include you managing a V League Division 1 sports team. But every day when you went into work, you thanked the gods above that this is where your career path had led you, because that meant you could ogle Sakusa Kiyoomi and his infamous compression sleeves all day.
Oftentimes you were certain Kiyoomi didn’t mean anything by them. For him, they were practical. They kept his arms taut and ready for the ball. They made his movements sharper. He received the ball better. He didn’t have to feel his bare skin on the dirty court. These were all reasons you had heard straight out of his mouth. When you heard him mention them so nonchalantly, it almost made you feel bad for the absolutely sinful- borderline deranged- thoughts you had in your head about the way those sleeves made his arms look.
You were well aware of the kind of thoughts Kiyoomi’s choice of athletic wear caused among his fans. To put it simply and bluntly, they went feral over it. There were whole Twitter accounts dedicated to just his arms, or his chest. And as someone who often managed social media profiles for some of the members, you got to see the most unhinged of these comments with your own two eyes. And you would be the first to (secretly) admit that you agreed with 90% of what was being said, because holy shit did those sleeves do something to you.
Most of the time during practice, you could feel your eyes drift back over to the man in question, wearing a black sports tee and those godforsaken sleeves, working up quite the set as they played set after set to prepare for their next game. As the hours passed, Kiyoomi would get more and more disheveled, curls becoming unruly enough that he would grab a towel, biceps flexing as he ran it over the nape of his neck and dipped into the collar of his shirt. Christ almighty.
You should’ve known that you would eventually get caught. But if it was anyone who would notice, you had expected it to be Meian or maybe Coach Foster. But the person who did bring it up to you happened to be the biggest nightmare in this scenario; Miya Atsumu.
“Ya should be a little less obvious ‘bout it.” He commented when he trudged over to the bench where you sat, grabbing a water bottle and beginning to chug. You tore your eyes from Kiyoomi who now had his back to you, the muscles under his shirt flexing with every movement. You raised an eyebrow at the blond, not yet correlating his words with your hidden obsession. He placed the bottle down and placed a hand on his hip, giving you a knowing smirk.
“A blind grandma could notice the way yer lookin’ at him.”
Your eyes widened and cheeks flamed when he nudged his head in Kiyoomi’s direction, and you knew you had been caught. You clenched your jaw hard.
“You say a single word-”
He threw his hands up as if in surrender, effectively silencing your threat in its tracks.
“I won’t, promise! But there is one thing…..”
You groaned loudly, throwing your head back. Of course, of fucking course he would blackmail you with this.
“What do you want?” You deadpanned, glaring at him and preparing for the worst.
Atsumu looked a bit affronted, as if the mere insinuation that he might want something was preposterous to him. You gave him another tired look, until he sighed and gave up, plopping down heavily on the bench next to you.
“A phone number. Ya know that cute girl who comes by once a month? From the Volleyball Association?”
“No.”
Atsumu’s mouth dropped like a child who just got slapped. “Hey c’mon! Ya didn’t even hear me out!”
You groaned and pinched the bridge of your nose, feeling a characteristic frontal headache begin to build, courtesy of Miya Atsumu. “I’m tired of setting you up with people, Tsumu! It won’t end well, as always-”
“I’ll get you a picture of Omi with his compression sleeves.”
You give him an unimpressed look. “I can get hundreds of those off the internet.”
“I’ll get you a picture of Omi with just his compression sleeves.”
That made you halt in your tracks. You searched Atsumu’s face for any form of mockery or lie, and you found none. Your eyebrows shot up when you realized he was being serious.
“In the locker room. I can get it for ya today.”
Oh my god. Instinctively, your eyes darted over to the man in question, who was talking to Hinata about something. It looked like volleyball tips since he had his arms before him in a receiving position, and Hinata was rapidly nodding to what he was saying.
“No.” You shook your head. “No, that’s wrong.”
“I’ll take a selfie with him, yeah? He will know there’s a photo. And I can send it in the groupchat.”
You look back at Atsumu, seriously contemplating his offer. He kept yapping, as per usual, thinking that the more he talked, the likelier it would be to convince you. And the bastard was right, it was working.
“No one else will bat an eye. We see each other in the lockers all the time. No big deal.”
You bit your lip in thought. The possibility of seeing Kiyoomi shirtless and only in compression sleeves had your pulse rising.
“And you just want her number in return?”
Atsumu nodded eagerly. You gave him a narrow-eyed glare.
“Send the picture. Then I will give you the number.”
His triumphant grin made it feel like he had already won. “Deal.”
That evening, when your phone pinged with a text notification, you nearly flew across the bed to grab it, opening the picture Atsumu sent in the groupchat with eager fingers and freezing as soon as you laid eyes on it.
Atsumu had held up his end of the bargain spectacularly.
He had taken the picture with Kiyoomi a little further in the background, so he could get the man’s full torso in it. He was facing slightly away from the camera, but his face was turned towards it, capturing the scowl between his eyebrows and the little pout of his mouth. He was gloriously shirtless, still a bit sweaty from practice, and he held his shirt in his hand, one arm flexed as he held it while the other was held carelessly by his side, compression sleeves hugging the cords of toned muscles just right.
There was another ping, pulling you out of your trance and making you realize just how dry your mouth had gotten. Atsumu had messaged you privately.
“My payment? ;)”
You rolled your eyes and sent him the number, immediately going back to the picture and starring it for future reference, a tiny smile quirking up the corner of your lip as you did so.
#msby sakusa#sakusa kiyoomi#sakusa x reader#haikyuu sakusa#sakusa kiyoomi x reader#sakusa kiyoomi x you#hq x reader#hq x you#haikyuu x reader#haikyuu fanfiction#sakusa kiyoomi fluff#sakusa fluff#haikyuu msby#hq sakusa#sakusa x you
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aventurine can't help but admire you from afar.
the way the wind flows with your hair, the way your eyes lit up when you smile, the way you just... ugh, everything! despite being bold, haughty and confident, the man was actually a bit nervous to talk to you—or confess, even.
why?
trust issues and trauma, of course.
"i suggest you try speaking with them. in reality, not everyone will constantly betray you or stab you behind your back. take a leap of faith, and test the waters, gambler."
dr. ratio says as the gambler slumps back against his seat, grumbling. aventurine's face was occupied by an open book, in which he definitely did not read.
"this is all too frustrating. really, i'm experienced with talking with women, bedding them—but it's rather annoying that i can't even talk to them." aventurine sighs with a sheepish smile, "perhaps this is a curse that was placed upon me. truly, a riveting way to die." he sarcastically says.
"you're not going to die," dr. ratio says, folding his arms across his chest, "you are merely confused with your actions at this point. i had already suggested you a few ideas, and i won't speak any further."
"oh, c'mon now, don't be like that~."
"you are being pesky, and stubborn. the door is behind you whenever you wish to leave."
the gambler sighed, rubbing the back of his head, "alright, alright. i will leave you to your... whatever you were doing earlier. i'm not opposed to your suggestion, but rather, i am... conflicted, as you say."
dr. ratio sighed again. he did say he wouldn't speak any further after that. but finally, aventurine left, leaving the man be.
days later, you were with the express team. as though aventurine had successfully guessed you'd temporarily depart ways with your crew, he approached you. you were visiting a cat café that time, and he first admired you through the windows of the building. you were happy, and it was a beautiful sight. you held a few cats, took a small nap with a few of them, and you began to play with them. that was when he finally approached you, letting the cats come to sniff him out.
"my, i didn't expect you to visit this kind of café," aventurine says, catching your attention.
like a cat, you perked up, gaze wandering towards the familiar voice before your eyes sparkled upon seeing him. "oh, 'ven!"
his heart skipped a beat, but he hid it. he had nearly forgotten that you gave him a nickname the moment you two first met. aventurine was too much of a hard word to say, you told him that one day, so you decided to give him a nickname.
"the one and only." he says, lowering his sunglasses. as he sat next to you on the floor, the cats came to snuggle up against him. one cat, in particular—a white one with a luxurious collar—came to sleep upon his lap. you cooed at the sight, lifting a kitten and setting it on your lap.
"what brings you here? i didn't expect you to be the type of person to visit a cat café, especially with how busy you are."
aventurine shook his head, "i just wanted to see you."
you blinked, tilting your head. "you wanted to see me?"
he nods, stroking the cat on his lap, giving you a faint smile. "... i was wondering. this request i am about to make isn't business related, or anything of the matter. i've no ill motives behind it—but would you like to... come join me for dinner sometime tonight? that is, if you allow it if you aren't busy. or your... friends allow it." he knows how protective the express team can be of you.
you paused for a moment, blinking. "... like... like a date?"
he nods again, "a date."
"oh! then sure!" you smiled brightly, and your answer was instantaneous too. "i'll just let the others know i'll be busy tonight. where are we going?"
"ah, nothing too fancy (a lie). i just wish to show you my favorite spots here in penacony."
"okay! well, i'll try to dress up nicely, then."
"no need," aventurine shakes his head, "i've already set up a whole schedule for us. let's look at various of clothing later, and see which one you like most."
you blinked. you didn't have that much credits to spend, honestly... "ah... but my budget—"
"who said you were paying?" he flashed a smile. "my dear, i will be the one spoiling you tonight."
"... oh. but wait, that's so much money! please, you don't have to do all of that for me..."
"ah, don't worry! i have all the credits in the world."
"... o-okay."
the night of the date, you were a tad nervous. you didn't know what to wear, and luckily enough, march was kind enough to dress you up a bit.
waiting at the designated location of the date, aventurine shows up wearing his sunglasses as usual. he smiles, taking your hand into his, before gracefully leaving a kiss atop of the back of your palm. you lightly flush, before following the gambler towards wherever he wanted to go...
... and the first stop was the expensive clothing store! it consisted of luxurious of dresses, suits, tuxedos and what not. throughout your time there, the man was practically dolling you up. letting you try on different sets of clothes, getting one custom made on the dot, and even trying to have you match with him.
you finally found the right set, and it was ungodly expensive... but aventurine paid it off like it was nothing, and waited for you to come out with the dress, or whatever you had on. and once you left the dressing room, aventurine's heart melted a bit. his eyes softened, but the color of his shades had hid his admiration for your beauty. he clears his throat, snapping himself back to reality (dreamscape) before rising.
"you look stunning, (y/n)." he says, taking your hand once more, "i adore seeing that on you. perhaps you should wear it more frequently, it suits you like no other."
you felt butterflies roam in your stomach as you look at yourself in the mirror. "you... think so?"
he shakes his head, "i know so."
the second stop was a fancy restaurant. it was built into a casino, so from there, he introduced expensive, five star meals to you and showed you how to play a few games. he won you a cute little plush of (insert favorite animal) through a game vendor, and proceeded to bring you around. he was showing you off like a trophy, too, bringing his arm around your waist to show the world you were rightfully his.
at least, not yet.
the third and final spot was a scenery.
it took a while for the both of you to get there, but the hike was worth it. once you got to the top, you saw the outstanding view of penacony, and you took a moment to admire the horizon.
the night sky, how the stars sprinkled and welcomed you into their sights, and how... aventurine looked stunning underneath the night sky.
you admired him for a moment. he was truly a beautiful man, and instead of admiring the stars, you were admiring your future lover. you felt your heart melt as you sat, staring at him so lovingly.
"hmm? is there something on my face?" asked-he, his smile widening as though to tease you.
you decided to get a little bold, "beauty."
he chuckled to himself, his heart racing. his pride won't admit that he literally felt the world around him explode as you said that. there was just something about you that was just so... perfect.
and yet, all in all, the man was still terrified of you. given his trust issues and everything, he wasn't sure of you - but he knew that he was happy being around you.
all it took was time.
"i can say the same for you," he says in a soft voice, coming closer to you, "did you enjoy tonight?"
you smile, brushing his golden locks away from his visage, "i did. when will we have a second date?"
you paused.
"w-wait, i mean... that's too far, right? i mean, don't get me wrong, i-i'd love to have a second date with you, but that is if... you're okay with it!"
he blinked, before smiling, a chuckle leaving his lips as he returned the favor for you. brushing your hair away from your face.
"... i wouldn't mind. let's have another one again soon."
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fatal dis|at|traction
Pairing: Hunter x AFAB!Reader
Words: 9774
Warnings: Unrequited feelings (in more ways than one). Touch-starved characters. Lots of sweet/dirty talk. Hunter likes to tease a lot. Oral Sex (female receiving). Fingering. Squirting. Just a bit of a knife kink (it's not everyone's cup of tea so it's a very short scene). Pentrative, Unprotected Sex (wrap it up folks). Creampie. Cuddling.
Summary: You have feelings for Tech who is now taken. Hunter notices your little predicament and decides to offer you a solution, one that you take enthusiastically. Little do you know that this could be the start of something new.
A/N: It's been a minute but I'm very thankful for the Life Day Gift Exchange by @cloneficgiftexchange because I finally managed to write something. This is for @intricatechaosofyou who gave a prompt after my own heart. I hope you enjoy this as much as I did writing it. Coincidentally, this also fits into one of the @clonexreaderbingo prompts I got which I am embarrsingly behind on.
With every little chuckle you heard from Phee, your heart beat in jealousy at not being Tech’s center of attention. You thought it wouldn’t be an issue in the beginning, assuming that Tech would remain uninterested in Phee’s flirtatious advances. But the more she hung out with the team, the more he warmed up to her subtle compliments and faint touches. Before you knew what was happening, he was hanging out with her whenever you and the batch had time off from the crazy missions Sid continued to send you on.
Then she took you to Pabu and things really spiraled. Their time together increased each day and you barely got to see him. You couldn’t blame him really, or Phee. You just wished you had more time or perhaps been a bit more brave about your feelings towards him.
Another random laugh fills the afternoon air, this time from Tech, and you can’t help but stop what you’re doing and look at the two of them enjoying the preparation for Life Day. You look with longing at the man who managed to captivate your heart with a simple, random fact, and you sigh heavily at knowing that you’ll never really have a chance with him.
“Do you want to talk about it?” Hunter breaks your sad train of thought, and you turn around to look at him, silently praying that he didn’t just notice you staring at his brother. You pack the decoration boxes and look down to the ground, pretending you don’t understand what he’s talking about.
“What?” You ask once, and when Hunter doesn’t respond right away, you glance at him quickly to try and gauge his reaction, hoping that you can fool him by acting as clueless as possible about his question. He stares at you silently, uncrossing his arms and heading towards you to help you out with the rest of the boxes.
“I- I’m not sure what you’re referring to, Sarge.” You say in passing as you make your way to the storehouse, already thinking of some lie to respond with in case he dragged this out. When you set down all the empty containers, you shut the door behind the two of you and head towards the center of the town.
“Don’t do that…not with me.” Hunter breaks the silence after a while, stopping you in your tracks and waiting until you acknowledge him. You ring your fingers nervously, gulping down the nervousness that built up in your throat before facing him. There’s another fake reply at the tip of your tongue but before you can say anything, Hunter beats you to it, stopping you from embarrassing yourself any further.
“Come on, you can’t lie to me.” He furrows his eyebrows, looking at the couple standing not too far from you before centering his attention back on you again.
“I’m not lying.” You’re more defensive than you’d like and Hunter sighs in irritation, shaking his head and taking those last few steps towards you. The last thing he wants to do is embarrass you but he knows this conversation won’t go anywhere unless you willingly open up to him.
“Then why is your heart racing? I can practically feel you shaking. You’re not even looking at me.” Your palms grow sweaty the more he reveals those little details about you.
“Talk to me.” You never thought you’d hear him plead for anything and when you finally look at him, you see a genuine, heartfelt expression on his face, one that makes you feel even more horrible about the predicament you found yourself in.
“It’s not important, don’t- just don’t worry about it.” You wave your hand around and turn around to walk away from him, only to feel a strong hold wrap around your wrist and stop you from going anywhere else.
“Tech is a genius, but he can be incredibly dense at times.” Hunter waits until you meet his eyes again before he whispers that last sentiment. The shock of the exclamation sends your heart racing, and your eyes widen in horror at the prospect of everyone else potentially knowing your feelings for Tech.
“Wha- how…how did you know?”
“I know mesh’la, I know.” He loosens his grip a little, but doesn’t let you go completely, not wanting you to run away from him. The two of you stand in quietness for too long to your liking, and you give up on trying to pretend you don’t know what he’s talking about.
You give up on trying to make it seem like you’re okay.
“Is it that obvious?” The chuckle is self-deprecating, and you avoid looking into his hazel gray eyes, afraid you’d cry if he continues to give you that horribly sentimental expression.
“Not to the others, although Echo guessed just as much a while back. But no, the others don’t know.” Hunter lets go of you then, but he doesn’t move away from you, wanting you to know that he’s here to help in whatever you’ll allow him to.
“How did you find out?” You move away from the crowd slowly forming around the town square, wanting to have some privacy from prying eyes, from Wrecker and Omega.
“I notice the way your eyes light up whenever he walks in the room, or goes on one of those rants about kriff knows what.” Anyone else would have laughed at you, but you feel at peace knowing that Hunter would never tease you about something like this. He was too kind to joke about such an intimate little secret.
“Hmm.”
“And your heart beats like you’ve just run across the whole of Coruscant.” Hunter adds as he comes to a halt in front of the house you reserved for yourself when you first got to Pabu.
“Ahh, that is extremely embarrassing.” You turn away from him as you respond, not wanting to be at the receiving end of whatever comment he was going to throw your way.
“It’s not…it’s natural to react that way when you have feelings towards someone.” You’re a little surprised by his explanation, mostly because you never thought he’d be the type to speak so sweetly about something as awkward as emotions.
“Right.” You can’t help but smile when you see him shrug at you, and as you’re about to unlock your door, Hunter turns around and grabs the knob, preventing you from reaching for it, let alone turn around and get away from him.
“You know what you need?” He asks, and you shiver at the sudden drop in his voice, wondering why he was suddenly becoming so friendly with you.
“Please enlighten me, because this whole conversation hasn’t been humiliating enough as is.” You laugh in an attempt to diffuse the tension slowly building in between the two of you, but Hunter doesn’t crack a single smile, roaming his eyes down your neck and taking in a deep breath before meeting your gaze once more.
“You need to get your mind off of him, just for a little while. Find a distraction…sometimes you have to stay busy so you don’t feel.” You’re too distracted by the proximity between his body and your own to dwell on the true meaning behind his words.
“Yeah well, good thing we’re staying here. Helping rebuild the city will definitely take my mind off of him and…ugh, I guess make me focus less on seeing the two of them together.” Looking past him to the slowly busying town square, you completely miss the way he bites his lower lip as he studies you closely and shakes his head at your response.
“That’s not what I meant.”
“Oh yeah, what do you mean th-” Turning your focus back to him, the words die in your throat when you finally notice the way he’s looking at you. You part your lips in a gasp, finding it difficult to breathe as Hunter leans into your space and groans his intentions against your jaw.
“I mean…you need to get your mind off of him, and onto something else…perhaps someone else.” Your body freezes at the unexpected intimacy of the moment, and although you know you should push him away and tell him to forget whatever was happening, you tell yourself that this might just be what you need to forget about Tech.
“I s-see.” Hunter’s hand reaches for your waist, holding you against him until he’s sure you’re accepting his advances. He smiles at you, his eyes twinkling with mischief that sends a zap of lightning down your spine.
It was a warm day in Pabu, but having Hunter flush against your chest makes you even more heated, and you gulp down whatever nervousness was threatening to make itself known in the form of a rejection, allowing your fingers to dance along his forearm before you grab onto his shoulders for support.
“W-what do you have in mind?” He gets even more bold then, wrapping his arm around your back and pulling you in until you nearly bump your forehead against his nose.
“I think you know.” His voice is gravely, and it occurs to you then that he may have always had this deep baritone, but you just never truly appreciated it until now.
“Humor me, Sarge.” You smirk right back at him, eyes dancing from his lips to his piercing gaze in preparation for what he’s about to say.
“Well, you’ll first need to find someone willing to help you out, someone who knows all about distractions. Then, you take them somewhere private and…how should I put this, kindly ask them to fuck your brains out…take the edge off a little…and if you start thinking of him again, you get on your knees and have them dick you down real hard…till you can’t think straight.” His lips graze across the skin of your cheek, down to your neck, as he promises you the filthiest sentiments, and if you weren’t sure you knew the man standing in front of you was far beyond the average man, you would have asked him how he had you melting into his arms in such a small period of time.
“Maker,” you nearly reach up to kiss him but then quickly remember that anyone can see you. Before you can push him away, Hunter nudges you harshly to get your attention again, not wanting you to get distracted by your surroundings or if anyone might hear what the two of you have in mind.
“Hmm, I think your body agrees with me sweetheart. Why don’t you have that tired brain of yours catch up?” He nods at your head, tilting his head to the side as if he was asking you a silent question.
“Do you…do you know someone that can do all of what you just said?”
“You’re right in luck baby, I happen to be free for the next couple of hours.” Hunter responds right away, knowing that it would be extremely difficult to have you like this again.
“Ahhh, t-that saves me from looking then.” You smile when he rests against you and nudges your nose with his own, aquiline one.
“So, what do you want?” Again, his voice is smoother than honey, sending you spiraling in a matter of seconds out of anticipation.
“I thought you…don’t be cruel, please.” You kiss the corner of his mouth, feeling the rough stubble across his sharp cheeks burn you in the sweetest way. Hunter turns his head far enough to finally tough his lips with your own, the kiss ending far too quickly to your liking but leaves you begging for more.
“Never…never. I mean, how do you want it mesh’la? You want it slow, soft, sensual…” He slithers his hands across your body, leaving a trail of fire across your skin with each sweet touch he graces you with.
“Or do you like it hard and fast…till you can’t scream anymore?” He digs his nails into your curves then grabbing and squeezing your ass until you nearly fall against him.
“Oh fuck…I- Hunter, please.”
“You’re a big girl, use your words and tell me what you want!” Hunter combs his hand into your hair, tugging on it harshly until you throw your head back and give him access to your neck. He descends down on you like a madman, nipping and sucking on the soft expanse of your skin until you’re panting in his embrace.
“You want me to be sweet with you…or do you want to feel me with every step you take tomorrow?” He licks the bitemarks he’s left behind, chuckling to himself when he feels you shaking in his arms and practically begging him to fuck you right out in the open.
“Please Hunter, be- be rough with me. As rough as you want.” You reach for the collar of his shirt, fisting it in your hands as if you were holding on for dear life. You should have known that as everything else, Hunter would easily take you down without breaking a sweat.
“A girl after my own heart.” He chuckles then, the sweet sound shooting straight into your chest and making you wish he just pushed the door behind you open and took you somewhere more private.
“I’ll take my time with you next time baby, worship every fucking inch of your body as you deserve. But tonight…tonight I’m going to teach you how to take me…please me…open up for me and take my cum like the good girl I know you are.” He kisses across your damp skin in between words, finding it difficult to continue holding back when he could practically smell your arousal the more he whispers into your ears.
“I’m going to fuck you into the next galaxy sweetheart, till the only name your pretty little brain can remember is mine and mine alone.” Your heart beats so fast Hunter thinks you might pass out, but as you melt into his arms and pull him closer to you, he knows that you’re enjoying this as much as he was.
“And believe me when I tell you, I’ll know if you’re thinking of him. So be a pretty little sweetheart and focus on me.” He moves away to take a better look at you, raising a curious eyebrow when he finds you completely lost in every touch and every sweet word he was gifting you with.
“Yes,” you barely manage to breathe out, waiting for whatever he still has in stock for you.
“Yes?” Hunter asks, his expression turning more serious when you open your eyes and look right into his own. There’s something so erotic about how much he can sense every little reaction you have to his advances, but he sets his thoughts aside long enough to hear you openly consent to him.
“Yes, sergeant.” Those two words are music to his ears, and he steps away instantly, but not before making sure you can still stand on your own two feet. You snap out of your haze when you no longer feel the heat of his body against yours.
“Good girl.” He grabs your hand and leads you away from your home, down the tiled pathway towards the quieter side of the island.
“Where…where are you taking me?”
“Some place where you can scream my name without worrying about anyone hearing you.” He nearly stops in his tracks when he hears you moan in response to his words, but he knows that if he looks back now, he might never make it to his own place. If anything, the reaction he gets out of you makes him walk quicker, not caring for how you stumble several times as he continues towards the smaller, but more private homes at the bottom of the island.
You can’t look away from him, and as you follow him blindly, you find yourself surprised at not wishing he was someone else. Maybe because you’ve always found him objectively handsome, all the clones were if you were being honest, or perhaps because you’ve always wondered what it would be like to be with someone like Hunter, someone who you knew would be so attuned to every sound and every muscle twitch you’d have that he’d know instantly how to please you. But the longer you dwell on it, the more you realize that you’re lucky to have someone like him pay you this much attention, or even be willing to give you this favor.
Little did you know that while you were longing for Tech, Hunter was struggling to keep his own feelings at bay. He didn’t want to take advantage of you, far from it, but he figured that maybe, just maybe, if he showed you how much he cares for you, you’d look at him instead of his brother.
He can feel your eyes on him, and his heart skips a beat at the prospect of finally having your attention. Hunter wants to ask you if you’re sure about this, but as he approaches his residence, he finds himself less willing to break the two of you out of whatever cloud you’ve fallen under, afraid that you’d change your mind and leave.
The thought nearly breaks his heart, but as he slows down and unlocks his door, he feels your hands shaking even harder, and he knows then that he needs to give you an out because you may not be able to take it yourself.
“Sweet girl, you’re trembling.” He turns around and cups your neck, forcing you to look into his eyes so you’re sure he doesn’t mind if you walk away from him.
“If you’ve changed your mind…if- if you don’t want this anymore, we can stop. It’s- it’s okay.” The words sound less convincing to his ears, but he braces himself for the rejection he’s sure you’re about to give him.
“No, Hunter please.” Your instant response sends a wave of relief and reluctance through his chest, and his eyes widen for a fraction of a second before they soften again, knowing that if you noticed his expression, you might push through just to not upset him.
“I won’t have you against your will baby.” He leans over and kisses the small space in between your eyebrows, waiting until you relax against him before he pulls away and meets your gaze again.
“I want this, Hunter. I- I want you. I’d be lying to myself if I said otherwise.” You tug at his forearms, wanting him to not shy away from you, perhaps even afraid that he’d change his mind and tell you to leave. Your nerves slowly rise again and Hunter must sense your spiraling thoughts because he pulls you into the small space and shuts the door behind you, pushing you against the wall and stepping impossibly close to you so you can only feel him.
“Tell me what you need. Right this moment.”
“Can you just...hold me for a minute? I- I need to feel your arms around me.” You barely manage to breathe out the request, not because you think he’ll laugh at it but because you find yourself having a difficult time thinking of a single coherent thought.
“Sure thing ad’ika, come here.” Hunter slowly walks back to the small bed at the edge of the wall, sitting down on the soft surface of the covers before pulling you into his lap. You follow him quietly, finding it oddly soothing to have him in control of your actions rather than your own mind. You throw your arms around him and rest your head on his chest, willing yourself to relax as soon as you feel his hands roam across your back soothingly.
“I want you to focus on my heartbeat.” You do as he says, moving your head down a little further so you can listen to his heart. If you’re shocked by how much faster it is, you say nothing and dwell on the fact that he may be just as nervous as you are.
“Take deep breaths,” Hunter slides one hand underneath your shirt to test the waters, shutting his eyes and smiling to himself when your muscles relax deeper into him.
“Nothing else matters, little one. Only you, and me…right here and now.” He reminds you one last time, massaging your back and turning his head every once in a while to kiss you. Hunter shuts his eyes to commit this moment to memory, unsure of whether he’ll ever get to have you like this again or not. He says nothing after, wanting to ensure that you have all the time you need before the two of you do anything.
You’re not sure how long you spend in his arms but when you no longer feel nervous at being in his presence, you pull away and rest your hands on his chest, willing yourself to be brave enough to look into his eyes after experiencing such an intimate moment with him.
“Feeling better?” He reaches for your chin and moves it up softly to take a better look at you. As soon as he looks into your eyes, he smiles at you, waiting until you return the expression before doing anything else.
“Hmm.”
“Then why don’t you lay back for me.” He moves you off of him and studies you closely as you maneuver yourself around his bed. You’re less shy than before, that he’s sure of, but you do as he says more confidently, something that doesn’t go unnoticed by Hunter, and makes him imagine all that he can do to you.
“You know, I- I always thought you had a soothing voice,” you break the silence reluctantly, biting your lower lip when you notice Hunter smirking at the unexpected sentiment.
“Yeah?” He questions as he kneels on the bed and slowly crawls towards you.
“Yes, but now…now I’m realizing it’s your presence.” You waver in your response, finding it difficult to think of anything when he’s looking at you like you’re his prey.
“Tell me more.” Hunter demands, dancing his fingers across whatever skin he has access to and watching as goosebumps erupt across your body at the simple touches.
“It’s in your touch, your- kriff, your movements…your gaze.” You arch your back when Hunter digs his nose at the space just above the edge of your pants and takes a long whiff of your scent. You think that if anyone else has done something so strange, you’d be turned off by it, but this was Hunter, and scenting was important to him, especially since he must have been getting awfully close to you because he liked what he could smell.
“Glad to be of service,” he comments in passing, nudging your shirt up to get more access to the skin of your stomach. He kisses your navel, breathing you in with each new bit of flesh he came across.
“Gods above,” you can’t take it anymore, reaching for his shoulder and trying to pull him closer to you so he could speed things up a bit.
“No sweetheart, it’s only me.” He chuckles at the whine you send his way, looking up at you as he parts your thighs and makes space for himself in between.
“You’re d-driving me insane Hunter.” Hunter doesn’t move an inch as you try to bring him closer. If anything, he slows down even more and takes both of your hands into his own, softly kissing the wrist of each one before bringing them above your head.
“If you’re still coherent, then I’m not driving you insane enough.” He’s teasing you, and if you didn’t know better, you’d think he was pushing you to a point where you could do nothing but beg for him. So distracted with the patterns he’s drawing across your arms, you don’t realize where the other hand is reaching until you feel his grip tighten around your throat.
“Ahh, please.” You arch your back, grabbing the sheets beneath you in an attempt to keep your hands where he asked you to. You want nothing more than to wrap your arms around him and surrender to his lips, but you knew better than to disobey his orders. Hunter was a strict man in the field, and you were positive he wasn’t any different in this context. If anything, he was probably even more severe now. At least you hoped he would be.
“And remember baby, it’s ‘Sergeant’ for you. Got it?”
“Yes, sergeant.”
“Now, do me a favor and keep your hands there.” He taps twice on them, waiting until you nod in agreement before he sits back up and takes your wrecked form. He hoped you’d open up for him easily, but he never thought you’d be so needy, let alone greedy for him.
“But how will you take my clothes off?” You pout at him, the expression making Hunter wish he could flip you over and fuck you into oblivion. But he knew you needed him to be soft tonight, even if you were adamant in making him get a little rough with you.
“Let’s not spoil the fun.” He warns with a pinch to your hip, chuckling at the way you jump and your thighs unintentionally close around him.
“A bit sensitive, aren’t we?” He rests one hand near your head as he leans down and kisses the corner of your mouth, waiting for you to breathe before touching your lips with his own. It’s a chaste kiss, yet it sends your heart leaping through the roof because of how unexpectedly tender it is.
“I…haven’t done this in a while.” You whisper against his mouth, chasing him along when he begins to pull away again.
“Shame,” it’s such a simple comment, and yet you feel a string of butterflies in your stomach at the implication behind it. The fact that you held Hunter’s focus when so many on the island were begging for it makes you wish he could have approached you sooner.
“Hmmph,” the sound of your moan reaches your ear instantly, and you try to hide from Hunter out of embarrassment, but he doesn’t let you, moving down your body slowly and continuing to drive you mad with need for him.
“Go on baby, moan for me.”
“What if s-someone hears?”
“Everyone’s in town for the celebrations,” he reaches down and unbutton your pants, looking straight into your eyes as he pulls the fabric down your legs and throws it behind him. You try to close your legs quickly, afraid he could smell how wet you are. But Hunter is much faster than you, and he prevents you from moving another muscle, looking down once at the dark patch on your panties before meeting your eyes again, silently letting you know that he could smell you long before this very moment.
“No one’ll hear you, mesh’la. So beg all you want, you’re mine tonight.” He slips one finger beneath the edge of your panties, thumbing at the skin of your hips to get you to calm down a little before he does anything else.
“Only tonight?” You don’t mean to ask this question, not now at least, but you figured you may as well see if this was a one-time thing or not.
“Oh I don’t get to decide that, you do.” He surprises you with his answer, and the shock must be visible on your face because Hunter tilts his head to the side and stares at you until you realize you really were in control of what goes on between the two of you.
“So if I- oh kriff, if I want you to fuck me every night…”
“Then ask me nicely.” He slips one hand underneath your shirt, raising it above your stomach to your chest and laying it across your sternum to feel your heartbeat. When you don’t respond right away, he slides his hand a little further and draws random patterns just below your breast.
“Better yet, beg me sweetly…and I’ll give you my cock whenever you like.” He promises as he continues to edge you into submission, something that makes you wish you could yell at him about and thank him for.
“T-thank you, sarge.” Your breathing becomes erratic the longer he touches you anywhere but where you want him, and just as you begin to give up hope, he removes his hands completely from your form and reaches behind him.
“Do you trust me cyar’ika?” The question is asked with hesitance, and you’re not sure why he’s asking you this all of a sudden, but when you hear the sound of a clasp coming undone, you know why he’s being so serious.
“You know I do.” It’s the first thing you said since he dragged you behind him where you aren’t practically shaking beneath him, and once he’s completely satisfied with your response, he pulls out the blade from its holster and flips it around. You’re enamored by the swift movement of the weapon as it dances in between his fingers, and the faster Hunter plays with the knife, the more difficult you find it to breathe.
“Then look at me.” He demands as he stops swinging the knife around, and you obey him instantly, gulping excitedly as he leans over your body once again and places the sharp end of the knife at the top of your shirt, inches below your neck.
“Don’t,” Hunter warns slowly, nicking small holes into your shirt until the article of clothing rips down the middle, “move,” his voice is somehow even more gravely than before, and you stop breathing altogether, not because you think he’ll hurt you but because you can’t help but feel turned on by how focused he is on you and how safe you feel with something so dangerous, “a muscle.” He continues to ruin your shirt and you can’t find it in yourself to care one bit, knowing that being at Hunter’s mercy was worth far more than any shirt you could own. When he completely separates both sides of the fabric, he slips the wide edge of the knife beneath the fabric and pushes it to the side before grabbing the other with his fingers and displaying your nude skin to his hungry eyes.
You let out a deep breath and refuse to look anywhere else but his dilated pupils, clenching your thighs tightly at knowing that you were the reason behind such a dramatic reaction from him.
“I can smell you, little one. Does this turn you on?” He finally looks away from your heaving chest to your eyes, and when he finds you already staring at him, he smiles to himself and places the knife down gently on the small table near his bed. You’re disappointed that he clearly won’t be using it anymore, and Hunter notices the small expression because he trails his fingers down your front and pinches one nipple to get your attention.
“Use your words and tell me.” You arch into his rough ministrations, whispering your response and moaning for more.
“Y-yes, it does.”
“I knew you’d be fun.” He soothes the heated skin of your breast, drawing small circles around one nipple just as he leans down and takes the other in between his teeth. You whine his name over and over again, and Hunter growls his approval against you, lapping up the bitemarks he left around your hardened peak before sucking harshly on it again.
“Fuck, I do love how sensitive you are.” He manages to say right before diving for the other nipple and tasting your natural scent along with the soap you use to shower.
“And how hard your nipples perk at the touch of my fingers.” He thinks you’re about to move one hand so he reaches quickly for it, gripping it tightly and keeping it against the bed while he leaves angry marks across your chest.
“Ahh maker, please sergeant.” Your moans are becoming louder, and Hunter decides then and there that if you were going to scream for him, it should be his name falling from your lips, not his rank. The only warning you get before he descends down your body is his hand slipping underneath your panties and instantly pushing two fingers into your cunt. You’re dripping for him, and his thick fingers rub against your tight walls with an embarrassing ease.
“Kriff, I know I asked you to call me that, but forget it.” Hunter looks into your eyes as he lets go of your wrist and grabs the back of your neck, not bothering to say anything else as he lunges for your mouth and swallows your moans. You part your thighs and your lips for him, not caring for any rule he’s given you as you throw your arms around his neck and pull him closer to you. He fingers you slowly, but as begin to clench tightly around him, Hunter can’t hold back anymore and he moves off of you with a wet smack before crawling down your body. You’re shocked by the sudden urgency of his movement, and as soon as you reach for his hair and tug on it, you feel his warm lips close around your clit and his tongue aggressively lap at the engorged bundle of nerves.
“I want you to scream my name, mesh’la. Scream my name as you come on my tongue.”
“Hu- ahhh g-gods!” You’re not aware of what you’re saying, and the harder Hunter thrusts his fingers into you, the quicker you feel your release coming along.
“You smell…so sweet.” Hunter manages to breathe in between his assault on your pussy, and you let go of his hair to grab for the sheets beneath you, not wanting to hurt him by how hard you’d pull on his hair.
“But you taste so much sweeter.” He feels his cock harden as the taste and scent of you fill his nostrils. Normally, he’d find it overwhelming to be surrounded by so many strong scents, but the more you gush for him, the more he wants to dive into you and make you soak him with your arousal.
“Hunter, oh right there…please.” You reach for his hair again, but this time, you pull so hard that his red bandana comes off in your hand and reminds you to loosen your hold so as to not overwhelm him with too many sensations.
“Sorry, I-” You try to apologize but the words trail off when Hunter looks up and shakes his head at you.
“I don’t mind, sweet thing. Go on, pull as hard as you want.” He leans down and kisses the hand near his head, nipping at your thumb to let you know that he was feeling more than okay.
“But won’t that-” You don’t want him to feel like he needs to do this for you, but Hunter distracts you again, rubbing at your clit with his thumb to get you to listen to him.
“Please cyar’ika, let me feel you…everywhere.” Hunter begs you, pushing your thighs apart even more in an attempt to get you to do as he says. He doesn’t wait for a response then, descending down on you again with more passion than you thought him capable of in such a setting, and before you know it, he has you right at the edge with his expert hands and his enthusiastic mouth. You should have known that he’d know what you like quickly, but something about him being so attuned to your responses pushes you closer to your orgasm, and before you know it, you’re shutting your eyes and letting the flood of sensations overtake you.
“Hmm fuck, that’s it.” You scratch at his scalp as you pull on his hair, the action driving Hunter nearly mad and making him grab at your stomach to keep you planted to his face.
“Hunter…I- I’m co-” His harsh breathing and how hard he continues to lick at your clit is all you need to fall apart, and as soon as he coils his fingers inside you and rubs your tight walls, you come around him instantly, shaking violently beneath his firm body and screaming nonsense into the damp air of the room. It’s becoming nearly too much, and although you want him to stop, you can’t find it in yourself to push him away, a part of you sensing that he may need this as much as you. So you let him continue his assault on your cunt, and before you realize what’s about to happen, Hunter pulls away and watches as you soak his arms and his bed with your juices. He doesn't let up once, plunging his fingers into you so quickly that you manage to wet even his thighs. When he hears your heart beating impossibly rapidly against your chest, he slows down and removes his hand from you, pulling away and watching as your panties hide you from his eyes again.
He waits until you look at him before he slowly sucks on each of his fingers, smirking to himself when you hide behind your arms and close your thighs immediately.
“I changed my mind.” His voice is rough, and you’re not sure if it’s because he’s turned on or because he’s having a difficult time breathing just as you. Then the words settle in your remind and you move your hands away to take a better look at him.
“W-what?” You don’t have time to grab him as he gets off the bed and reaches for his shirt, throwing it away as well before unzipping his pants and pulling them down his thighs and stepping out of them before kneeling on the bed again.
“We can do rough later. Right now, I want to watch you come undone…slowly.” He grabs your ankles and pulls them apart, not caring for how blatant he’s being with his staring as he moves towards you again.
“Fuck baby, you’re gushing for me.” His disbelief sends a shiver down your spine and you softly smack his thigh to get his attention away from your heated core.
“Hunter, don’t- don’t say stuff like that.”
“And why shouldn’t I?” He narrows his eyes at you, daring you to say anything in disagreement.
“It’s…embarrassing.” You manage to whisper out, only to have Hunter shamelessly wipe the wetness over your legs with his hand.
“No, it’s fucking sexy mesh’la….and if I had known taking my shirt off would turn you on this much, I would have walked around naked since you came on board.” He reaches for your hand and you squeal suddenly when he tugs you harshly until you nearly smack his chest. Looking down at you, Hunter bites into his lower lips as he pulls the rest of your shirt away and throws it away, not bothering to push you back into bed when you rest your hands against his naked chest and feel his muscles flex and unflex.
“Speaking of taking things off…” You try to grab your panties but Hunter stops you, shaking his head and bringing your hand back to his skin.
“No, keep’em on.”
“But-”
“These are mine now, and I want nothing more than to smell your cunt and my cum on them…when I take them.” Hunter nods down at the wet article of clothing as he swipes your hair away from your face and softly grazes your bruised lips.
“Hmph, you’re a shy little thing aren’t you?” He wonders out loud when you turn away from and rest your forehead against his stomach, once again feeling a sense of pride wash over him at being the one to bring such a reaction out of you.
“Do the honors.” He takes your hands and moves them down his rigid form, not missing the way your breath hitches when you feel the muscles on his stomach flutter at the soft touch of your palms. You don’t dare look up at him as you drag his boxers down his hips until his cock juts out from beneath the elastic.
“Oh fuck me.” You stop what you’re doing as soon as you see the size of him, and Hunter uses your moment of distraction to his advantage, pushing you back into the bed and moving away to step out of his boxers before returning to you again.
“Since you asked so nicely.” He remembers the biosheath and finds one in his drawer instantly, but before he can take it out, you take his wrist and bring it back to you.
“Wait-” You stop him, unsure of what to say now that he was looking at you with such an unreadable expression.
“You don’t have to- like I said, I haven’t done this in…in a while. And I’ve-” Your attempts to explain to him that you don’t have anything and that you wouldn’t mind it if he didn’t use a biosheath with you evaporate into thin air, and as you give up on trying to relay the message, Hunter shuts the drawer and lays on top of you. One look into his eyes gives you away and you turn from him to avoid whatever embarrassing words you’re sure he’s about to relay to you.
“You want me to fill you with my seed, little one?” The question is asked in such a low voice that you nearly miss the playfulness in between. You refuse to acknowledge him, afraid of how much he’d drag this out if you told him outright that you wanted to feel him leak out of you.
“You want me to fuck my cum deep inside your pretty little cunt?” He asks again, this time as he slips his hand in between your bodies and wraps his palm around his hard cock, lazily stroking his length while teasing your clothed clit with the tip of his dick. He goes on for too long, and when you can’t take it anymore, you moan in agreement, hoping that the outburst pushes him to finally, finally, fuck you.
“O-ohh gods, please…please.” The way he cups himself and teases the both of you nearly sends you into overdrive, and just as you begin to give up hope, Hunter tugs aside your panties, and pushes his cock against your wet folds, giving you a taste of what’s to come.
“Keep begging baby.”
“Please Hunter…I need you. I- I want you to come inside me, want to feel you all night long.” He was planning on making you cry for him, but the sound of your voice telling him everything he’s heard a thousand times in his dreams sends him reeling and before he can warn you, he pushes his cock into your slit, arms nearly giving out at finally feeling your cunt welcome him in. You arch your back as soon as you feel his thick, hard cock fill you, and although you should be embarrassed at how easily he slides into you, you don’t bother thinking about it, not when Hunter was finally giving you what you’ve been craving.
“Kriffing hells, you feel so good mesh’la…so tight and hot for me.” He stops moving, the heat of your cunt making him nearly lose his mind and whatever bit of control left in him.
“Hunter-” You don’t like the fact that he’s stopped pushing into you, but then he moves and you realize that maybe you needed a second to get used to him after all.
“I know, love. I know, just a little bit more.” Hunter kisses your forehead, lips quivering at the thought of being too much for you to handle. He waits until you’re relaxed a little before he gives you more of his cock, and when you drag your nails across his arms and grab onto his shoulder, he stops again to soothe you.
“You want to be a good girl for me, don’t you?”
“Yes…oh maker yes.” Your voice breaks, making Hunter wish you weren’t so kriffing sensitive to him.
“Then open up for me…take me.” He leaves a trail of wet kisses down your neck, licking and nipping at the taut skin in an attempt to distract you from whatever discomfort you were feeling.
“Haa…ahh, you’re- so fucking hard.” Your words are unexpected, and Hunter fists his hands tightly into his pillows so he doesn’t do something he’d regret. He unintentionally thrusts the rest of his dick into your pussy, the action knocking the breath out of the both of you and sending a strike of pleasure down your spine.
“Only for you, sweetheart. O-only for you.” Hunter breathes against your chest, cursing at how much better you felt now than in his dreams. He could feel every inch of you squeeze him, and if it weren’t for the fact that you told him it’s been a while, Hunter would have begged to fuck you like he wanted. But it has been a while, and the last thing he wanted to do was to hurt you. When you wince at the slightest of movements, Hunter pulls back and studies you, carefully listening to your heartbeat and looking over you to see if you were too uncomfortable to do this now.
“Are you okay?” He should be the one asking you this question, not the other way around, and even though a million compliments run through his mind, he barely manages to respond to your question.
“Fuck, I’m more than okay.” He hisses out as you clench around him, and before he can let you know that he’s not reacting out of pain but of indescribable pleasure, you reach for his hair and tug him down, begging for him to do anything besides remaining still.
“Then move…” You cross your legs behind his back to tempt him into moving against you, but Hunter remains impossibly still, resting his forehead against yours as he tries to tell you why he’s having a difficult time moving.
“N-not yet, just let me feel you. Let me…feel all of you.” He hopes it’s enough for you to stop asking him to move, but he should have known better.
“Is- is it too much?” Your shyness makes itself known again, and Hunter swears beneath his breath because he genuinely didn’t mean to come off so strained in his response.
“No, it’s- you’re perfect.” It’s both everything he’s feeling and barely an explanation of what he’s reserved for you for so long, but he can’t find any other word to describe what he’s experiencing with you now. You’re about to ask him to keep talking when he finally listens to you and pulls out a little before thrusting back in.
“Oh.” The simple word riles him up more than he cares to admit, and he sets a slow and sensual pace to calm himself down and give you what you desire. The small room fills with sounds of your harsh breathing and Hunter’s controlled growls, and before you know it, he’s hitting every inch of you in a way that makes you see stars. Then you look at him, and you find his eyebrows furrowed and his eyes shut tightly, and you just know that it’s because he wants to do more with you.
“Hunter,” you call for him, soothing his back with your hands to let him know that you weren’t going anywhere.
“Hmm?” His eyes flutter open instantly and you wonder if their color was always so intense and dark, or if this was just a product of what the two of you were doing.
“Don’t h-hold back.” You cup his neck and pray to the maker that he listens to you.
“I already told you cyare, I want you to fall apart for me…nice and slow.” He pronounces each word with a soft push of his hips against you, and you know then that this would definitely not be the last time you sleep with him. It couldn’t be.
“But I-”
“I want to commit you to memory. The way your heart skips a beat when I kiss your shoulders,” he leans closer against you and leaves a trail of wet kisses across your sternum to your shoulder, biting it playfully when he notices you trying to move along with him.
“The way you bite your lips when I pinch with your nipples,” you throw your head back in ecstasy as he pinches your nipple and rolls it in between his thumb and his index finger.
“The way your eyes shut when I sink my teeth into your skin,” Hunter takes one last look at the pleasure etched on your expression before taking the other hardened peak into his mouth, rolling his tongue around your nipple before biting down harshly just below the reddened skin.
“The way your cunt clenches around my cock when I pull your hair,” you wrap your arms around his back and pull him flush against you when you feel him comb his fingers into the hair at the nape of your neck and pull harshly on it, the action letting you know that Hunter was most certainly capable of being rough with you, but was choosing to get your body used to his soft touch first.
“And- fuck…ah fuck, the way your tight walls invite me in deeper when I play with your clit.” He lets go of your hair and slides his hand down your body, squeezing your hips and scratching along your thighs to leave his mark. As soon as you open your eyes and look at him, he begins to draw small circles around your clit, all the while picking up his pace just a little to get you closer to your climax.
“I want it all baby,” he begs for you, roaming his eyes across your body to get his fill of you before he brings the two of you to the edge. You’re so sensitive from before, but something about having Hunter pay close attention to you makes you welcome whatever he has to offer you.
“I- I’m close.” You manage to whisper to him as he continues to play with your body, and you realize the mistake you did in your claim when you hear him laugh and pause in his ministrations.
“Already?” He doesn’t expect you to answer, but you whine his name and roll your hips around to get any form of friction. Hunter is distracted by the movement, and he resumes his attention to your clit, grunting with need when you reach down and scratch his stomach to urge him on.
“D-don’t tease.”
“Never…never.” He responds immediately, thrusting into you with shallow pushes, already feeling the knot in his stomach slowly unwind the more he feels your heat pull him in.
“I can feel your fucking heartbeat, can feel it singing for me the harder I fuck you.” Hunter cries out in a mixture of pain and pleasure, sitting up and moving the hand on his stomach down to your clit to get you to touch yourself.
“Please Hunter,” as soon as you start teasing your clit, Hunter grabs both of your hips and fucks into you with slow, languid movements, knowing that if he picks up the pace any further, he’d have you screaming so loud that the rest of the batch may actually hear you.
“What do you want? Tell me.” There is a layer of sweat covering your body and making Hunter lose his mind. Your scent is more pronounced now that it has ever been, and he’s not sure if he’ll be able to interact with you normally now that he knew what you smelled like as you prayed for him to fuck you harder.
“I want you to come with me.” Your request storms into Hunter’s mind, making him wish he could just tell you how he feels, how he’s felt for so long.
“Kriff,” he throws his head back and looks at the ceiling, knowing that tonight would replay in his mind until you came to him and asked him to take you to bed again.
“So close…so fucking close. Hunter, please…let me feel you come with me. Come inside me.” You grab one of his wrists in an attempt to remain grounded, and Hunter can’t help but whine at the desperation you were trusting him with. Never in his life did he think he’d have you so unabashedly wanton, but here you were, telling him that you wanted nothing more than to feel him come with you.
“You’re killing me baby.” Hunter growls and looks down at where you’re joined, not caring for how crazed he must appear to you as his hair swings back and forth, and his face shines with sweat.
“Oh-hhh f…fuck right there-” you scream into the darkening room, no longer able to hold back the pleasure from seizing you and showering you with a most beautiful distraction.
“Mesh’la, I-” whatever he’s about to say is cut off by your lips as you pull him into you and mold your lips with his own. It’s a hungry kiss, and Hunter prays to the Force that you’re desperate for him out of necessity and not out of simple, physical attraction. He gives you what you want regardless, slipping his tongue into your mouth and surrendering himself to the pleasure just as your walls flutter around his cock and signal your orgasm. Feeling you tighten even harder around him is almost too much, and he doesn’t realize he’s thrusting so violently into you until you break the kiss and scream his name. He fucks into you without abandon, growling your name over and over again until he lets go and falls over the edge with you. You’re aware of how harshly you’re dragging your nails across his back, and before you can apologize for accidentally sending him into a sensory overload, Hunter is falling against you and sinking his teeth into your shoulders, shooting his cum so deep inside you that you feel the warmth of his seed spread across your body. Neither of you stop moving, wanting the other to reach absolute pleasure before you finally slow down. As you come down from your highs, you wonder if you should ask Hunter what he was going to say right before he came, but you get distracted by the way he begins to slowly move off of you.
“No wait,” he’s about to move off of you when you throw your arms around his neck and keep him flush against you. You can almost feel his heartbeat sound against your chest, and you’re sure he can hear your own singing for him, but you pay no mind to it, instead focusing on the heat of his skin as it slides against yours.
“Stay.” You ask once, hoping that he’d listen to you without wondering why you wanted to have him crush you with his weight.
“Wrap your arms around me tightly.” He says after a while, and as soon as he knows you did as he said, he slips his hands beneath you and holds onto you as he rolls around. The action shifts his cock inside you, and both of you moan out in unison at the shock of oversensitivity that strikes across your spines. He is careful when he moves again, and once he’s comfortable on his back, he slides his hand up your body and grabs your neck. You pull back to look into his eyes, offering him a lazy smile before resting your cheek on his chest again.
“Does this feel good?”
“I- I liked your weight on me…but yes, this is nice.” You decide not to lie to him, knowing that he may misunderstand your answer if you didn’t give him the whole truth.
“Noted.” You can hear the smirk in his own voice and snuggle closer into him, not realizing that your playing with his hair until he nuzzles closer into your hands.
“Stay as long as you like, ad’ika.”
You make a mental note of asking him what all of those words mean later, but for now, you surrender to his embrace and the gentle touches he continued to grace you with. Neither of you say anything else as you relish the sweetness of the moment, and before long, you notice that Hunter’s heart was beating much faster than it should. You’ve been sitting without much movement for a long time, so you wonder briefly why his heart was threatening to leap out of his chest. The thought of being the reason behind such a reflex makes you think differently of Hunter, and you hope that your hunch is right or else you’ll end up making a fool out of yourself when you ask him to take you to bed again.
Just thinking of doing this again with Hunter sends your spiraling and you unintentionally clench around him, but this time, you realize that he’s grown hard again. In fact, you could feel him pulsing inside of you, and you hope he doesn’t sense the shift in your body or else you’d have to explain to him why you were getting wet again.
“Don’t forget our little agreement sweet girl. I told you I’d know if you were thinking of him.” Hunter breaks the silence suddenly, and you frown at the sentiment, not because it was far from the truth, but because Hunter thought you were thinking of Tech and not him.
“I didn’t forget.” You pull away and pout at him, wanting him to see that you clearly weren’t lying to him.
“Then what’s making your heart race so suddenly?” It’s the first time Hunter asks a question that he clearly doesn’t know the answer to, but when you look away from him and draw strange patterns over his chest, he knows instantly what it was you’re thinking about.
“Interesting…” You roll your eyes at him, unable to hold back from giggling along with him when he cracks a smile and laughs at your obvious irritation.
“H-Hunter,” you break the moment and gulp nervously when he meets your eyes and gives you his undivided attention.
“Yes, mesh’la?” If there was ever a moment where Hunter was at his most peaceful, you think it may be this one.
“Kiss me? Please?” You’re reluctant in your request, unsure of whether he’d draw the line here now that you weren’t actively trying to fuck each other. But as he’s done so many times in the past few hours, he surprises you with an answer that you’d later pinpoint as the first time you truly felt something deeper than attraction for him.
“Never ask for what’s already yours, cyare.”
#LDE23#cloneficgiftexchange#hunter x reader#hunter/reader#the bad batch#hunter tbb x reader#hunter tbb/reader#the bad batch/reader#sergeant hunter/reader#sergeant hunter x reader#hunter the bad batch#hunter tbb#the clone wars#star wars#the bad batch fanfiction#the clone wars fanfiction#star wars fanfiction#clones x reader#CFB2023
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First things first Happy New Year, dear 🫶🏻✨️✨️
Since you're writing for Spencer Reid, may I suggest something that goes along the festive date?
I was thinking of unfinished business between the reader and Spencer, and when the whole team (who is suspicious about you both) stays at someone's place to celebrate the new year, you two end up drinking a little too much (nothing that makes you incapable of giving consent nor forgetting what happened) and what's just a cuddle session ends up with both tangled in the bedsheets, trying your best to keep the noise down.
<3
hii bby!! happy new year to you too lovie <33 love love love it🫠 thank you for requesting, hope you like it💌
NEW YEAR’S KISS.
spencer reid x fem!reader
word count. 531
warnings. 18+ only!! pinv, soft lovey dovey sex, readers roommate is home. mdni
For this New Year's Eve, you decided to keep it simple.
Rather than celebrating at Rossi's like every year, you and Spencer opted for a quiet evening at yours - deciding that you wanted to drink cheap wine and cuddle on the couch as you see the New Year in. It was the only way you wanted to spend the occasion, with the only person you wanted to be with when the clock strikes twelve.
However, things don't always go as planned.
Your roommate changed plans an hour before Spencer's arrival, and instead of going out to a bar, she decided to stay home - inviting a group of friends over for drinks and board games.
You and your special friend were still figuring things out, everything new and foreign to the both of you, so you wanted to keep your situation private - at least, until you could put a name on it. Inevitably meaning, you and Spencer were cast away to your room for the night.
You were in your dimly lit room, candlelight flickering on your nightstand, warmth casting a green hue through the half-empty bottle of wine. Spencer was hovering atop - his thin frame slotted between your spread thighs, your ankles crossed over his lower back. One of his hands nestled on the side of your face, carefully holding your cheek in his palm, the other anchored beside your head - elbow resting by your shoulder. His lips merely shadow yours, soft murmurs falling past each of your lips as he slowly winds his hips into you - cock rubbing against your insides ever so perfectly.
You extend your hands up to his face, fingers grazing the sides of his ears as you reach for his hair. You carefully comb through his soft curls, raking the stray hairs back, keeping your eyes locked on his pretty hazels as he continues to knock the air out of your lungs.
"Spence," you coo, lips parting as your head falls back into the pillow behind. "Gotta be quieter— they're next door."
"I know," he murmurs, his voice hoarse. "You're just too beautiful."
You bashfully smile up at him, brows knitting and eyes softening, your features growing pliant under his attention. You brush over his lips, kissing him soft and sweet, letting your strangled whines slip - your faint moans muffling against his tongue.
His thrusts remain leisured, winding into you unrushed - working into you like he had all the time in the world. The curve of his cock hitting all the right spots, veins grazing the ridges of your walls so nicely. No one had ever made you feel as good as you did right now - no one had ever taken the time to ensure your pleasure. And whenever you were with Spencer, that was always his main priority.
Spending the night with Spencer in your sheets is probably the best end to your year, and it just might be marked as your new favourite holiday. As the fireworks set off around your street, indicating the arrival of the New Year, you reach up to brush your lips over his, giving him the first kiss of 2024.
#request#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid smut#spencer reid#spencer reid x fem!reader#spencer reid x fem!reader smut#spencer reid x you#criminal minds#criminal minds smut#criminal minds spencer reid#dr spencer reid#spencer reid criminal minds#reid x reader
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Trailer park Steve AU part 23
part 1 | part 22 | ao3
cw: alcohol, recreational drinking
Steve fusses with his hair in the side mirror again, tugging awkwardly at his borrowed clothes. He feels stupid, standing here fidgeting in the parking lot like some kind of nervous freshman, but half of Hawkins seems to be here tonight and Robin’s got him dressed like a loser — worn green flannel and a ripped black tee with a faded picture of The Smiths. Jesus. “Did you really have to dress me like this?”
“What? You look cute!”
“I look like I raided Jonathan Byers’ closet.”
“No, you look like someone a certain neighbor is going to be drooling over all night.” Steve’s grateful for the dark then; for the blush it hides on his cheeks. “It’s not my fault you don't know how to make a deal; if you wanted to borrow a specific shirt, you should have said so before we shook on it.”
“Besides,” she ignores him when he rolls his eyes at her, “you wouldn’t even let me smudge eyeliner on your lower lash line like I wanted to, so I really don't feel like you’ve earned complaining privileges.”
“I’ll complain if I fucking want to,” he grumbles under his breath. He runs a hand through his hair one more time, then forces himself to look away from the mirror. Rolls his shoulders back and down. “He’s not even here, anyway.”
“Ah-ha! So you did check.” She links their arms together, starts dragging Steve across the uneven gravel, her ankles wobbling in her low-heeled boots. “‘Just looking for a good parking spot,’ my ass. God, I’m always so right about everything. I'm, like, cosmically correct. I should really play the lottery next time I visit my grandparents..."
“Uh huh.” He’s not sure what luck and correctness have to do with each other, but sure.
She stumbles over a rock; pushes into his side, grinning, “I’m serious! I’ll play the lottery, and I’ll win big, and then you’ll see. Might even split my winnings with you if you’re nice to me.”
“I’m literally so nice to you all the time, but okay. Can’t wait to take half your earnings when you get ten bucks off a scratcher.”
“Hey, five bucks is five bucks! That’s like an hour and a half of our lives.”
Jesus Christ. “That’s just depressing.”
They walk arm and arm down the narrow footpath to the party — ferns brushing their calves, dry dirt beneath their shoes kicking up tiny clouds of dust — and as the path opens up Steve sees the place is packed. More packed than the overstuffed parking lot let on. There are people scattered over the picnic grounds in groups of fours and fives, a full dance floor under the main pavilion; a DJ set up at the front with food and drink stands to the side; a giant bowl of spiked punch; a tower of solo cups; a couple of coolers filled with beer.
In the surrounding grass he sees more tables, more people. A couple of guys he remembers from swim team rally around an arm wrestling match; another group plays beer pong on a brown fold-up table that they definitely stole from someone’s church. There's a circle of burnouts playing hacky sack behind a tree.
The bonfire burns brightly on the hillside in the distance, and beyond that he spots the faint glow of trail lights leading up to a bridge under the falls.
Part of him wants to follow the trail. Shake Robin off, pretend like he’s going to take a leak. Find a nice rocky overhang to camp under for a while.
Listen to river sounds. Gentle slosh; cricket buzz.
Maybe he gets drunk up there alone. Maybe he just enjoys the solitude; lies on a rock on his belly by the icy river’s edge, swirls his hand in frigid water and doesn't dream of dark brown curls.
“Steve?” Robin nudges him. “You good?”
Another, much less annoying part of him reminds him that he’s Steve Goddamn Harrington. He knows how to have a good time at a party.
Who cares if he feels too old to be here, or if it’s weird to see so many faces that used to call him Captain or King? Who cares that he's one smudge of eyeliner away from looking like a full-blown new wave art freak?
He’s not about to slink off to do depressed weirdo wallflower shit when the DJ’s playing Wham!
“Yeah.” He squeezes her shoulder. “You want a drink?”
“Yes, please.”
—
The drinks are strong.
Steve’s pretty sure the punch bowl is a lot more hunch than punch, but there’s still no sign of Vickie, and Robin’s getting that sad little stress wrinkle between her brows about it, so Steve says bottoms up and starts chugging.
They wince their way through two cups each. Robin plugs her nose on the second one like she’s about to do a high dive, and Steve laughs and takes her hand, leading her into the crowd just as Take on Me comes on. The lights all blur together as they shimmy and shake and twirl, moving like a couple of dorks, but Steve’s having a great time. Bobbing his head to the beat; a big, dumb grin on his face as he moves his hips. Robin shouts “Watch this!” over the music, and the next thing he knows they’re competing to see who can bust the worst dance move.
He brings out all the big guns, the full-groan dad maneuvers.
The sprinkler, the lawn mower, the fucking disco finger.
Robin answers with a sloppy attempt at the robot, so he makes up a new move he calls be kind, rewind, and she laughs like a horse and pretends to walk down a flight of stairs.
She’s crouched into a goofy lunge, two steps into the ascent back up, when the song fades out and a ballad takes over. The crowd presses in to slow dance; Robin steps on someone's toes.
“Hey, watch it!” the person hisses.
Robin startles hard; knocks herself off-balance when she tries to stand up straight, babbling, "Oh, my god, I'm so sorry! Are you- are you okay? I'm such a klutz, oh, my god, I'm—"
Steve snatches her up under the armpits; puts her back on her feet. Then he looks up and realizes who exactly she just stepped on.
Well, shit.
—
part 24
tag list part 1 below the cut, let me know if you want me to add you tomorrow (21+ only, please confirm your age if you're asking to be tagged)
@a-little-unsteddie @ahsokatanoss @aliea82 @alyelf @anne-bennett-cosplayer @aol19 @awolfstudio @bambibiest @bananahoneycomb @bookbinderbitch @bronwenmarie @cheonsazu @cinnamon-mushroomabomination @courtjestermunson @cuips-not-cute @dauntlessdiva @dawners @dontwasteyourchances @eddie-munsons-missing-nipple @eriquin @estrellami-1 @fandomfix8 @gregre369 @griefabyss69 @grtwdsmwhr @hallucinatedjosten @hellion-child @hiimlevi @honoragreyskull @hotluncheddie @jackiemonroe5512 @kas-eddie-munson @kingelyx @lifeisacrisis @littlebluejane @marvel-ous-m @melonmochi @messrs-weasley @milklechee @mrsjellymunson @mugloversonly @munsonslure @nburkhardt @nerdyglassescheeseychick @notsopersonalcharlie @novelnovella @nuggies4life @phoenixtheone @questionablequeeries @runninriot
#trailer park steve au#steve harrington#eddie munson#steddie#steddie fic#st fic#robin buckley#jonathan byers#my writing#my fic
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[part 1] part 2 of touch-starved where Ghost and you have been distant ever since that night.
you do not have to read part 1 in order to understand this part btw
a/n: you guys, i am down so incredibly bad. my entire pinterest and tiktok is covered with this stupid mask-wearing man. and i don’t even play the game so it has everyone around me like 🤨 also super annoyed that part 1 glitched or sumn because it posted my unedited version. edited version is on my ao3. anyways, enjoy the smut <3
masterlist
cw: ptsd, smut, p in v, reader described as small and referred to as a woman and blushes once
simon “ghost” riley x afab!reader
wc: 3.3k
𝐍𝐒𝐅𝐖 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐔𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐂𝐔𝐓
It was late in the compound, the silent night echoing through the hallways. Ghost and you had, in fact, been awkward the moment you released one another from your embrace. You had shuffled uncomfortably beside him as you both stood up. Ghost cleared his throat and his eyes danced across your face, his eyes unreadable. He shied away and motioned you to follow as you continued heading to base.
It was weeks after that mission and you hadn’t really seen all that much of Ghost since. You had come up to train with Soap while Ghost was in the room. He swiftly exited, grumbling in annoyance as he left. Soap had raised his brows, noticing the (extra) grumpiness in Simon.
You tossed and turned in your small room, a tiny bed and a chest of your things filling the space. You usually shared the room with another woman on your team but she was offsite at the moment.
You grumbled, shoving your boots on as you got up in the dark. You decided you needed to walk it off. Maybe then you could sleep.
In just a tank top and tight black leggings, you left your room.
You immediately collided with a large, firm object. You tripped, off balance from your boots not being tied, and fell backward. Two strong arms caught you, making you finally look up and coming face to face with Ghost. “Oh. LT,” you said embarrassed.
Ghost set you upright then removed his hands from around your arms, leaving a lingering warmth in their absence. Ghost was busy making his rounds as usual when your small frame came bustling into him. Always so clumsy.
Ghost’s blue eyes scanned your face. He was about to walk away and continue what he was doing, but halted. “Have you been cryin’?”
You felt your face warm. Why did he always have to be so blunt?
You shifted uncomfortably between your feet. He tried to get a glimpse of your face but you had shied away, staring at your boots. He could see the dark circles around your eyes from exhaustion. The same that he saw in his own reflection every morning. “Oh, uhm…” You rubbed the back of your neck.
“You still thinkin’ ‘bout that night?” You looked up at him and gave a meek nod. Of course, Ghost was referring to the close call a week ago where you almost got Gaz killed. You all had made mistakes that night, but Ghost had watched as your hand slipped from Gaz’s grip because you had failed to properly secure the rope holding you up. He had seen the horror spread across your face.
Honestly, you were surprised Ghost hadn’t kicked you off his team yet. Soap and Gaz had reassured you that you were a crucial part of the team and any one of them could have made that mistake.
But they didn’t. You did.
You watched as Ghost rolled his eyes and gripped his gun on his hip tighter before pushing you back into your room and closing the door.
He sat on your roommate's bed and pointed at yours. “Sit,” he commanded.
You did as you were told and closed your eyes. Here it was, the big moment where your Lieutenant finally ripped you a new asshole for being such a fuck up.
Ghost’s husky voice filled the already cramped space, threatening to overfill it. “I lost one of my best men back in the beginning.” Your eyes opened. You could see him in the faint glow of your room’s light. His eyes were heavy, surrounded in black, as he looked at you. “It was because of me.” Ghost felt his fist squeeze harder. You stared at him, realizing he was trying to make you feel better. To tell you how he had done something similar in the past. Though, he wasn’t great with words. You smiled at Ghost’s first kind words to you. “What?” His voice boomed with annoyance.
“Nothing.” Your smile sank as you thought of Gaz and you felt tears begin to well in your eyes again. “I’m not used to all this,” you said, gesturing around you.
“The military?”
“Being alone.” Your voice was quiet. You had always had your family. Friends. And for all of it to be taken from you destroyed you. You felt a strange sense of relief finding family with these men. They filled the void that you tried to stuff with whatever you could. But there was always that one part that never quite filled.
Your knees brushed against Ghost’s. He reached out without thinking and grabbed your hand. No. You weren’t alone. They were your family now. This was your home.
Ghost was solely wearing his balaclava mask without his usual hard skull addition, which felt more intimate. You could see the instant regret in Ghost’s eyes when he realized what he was doing. As he retracted his hand, you reached out and stopped him. Just like before, your name left his mouth in a faint whisper. You slowly stood, still gripping Ghost’s gloved hand, and pushed him back onto the cot. Maybe it was the way you now knew perfectly well that Ghost was feeling the same absence you were. Or maybe it was the darkroom that gave you confidence. You slowly crawled up beside him, your heart pounding in your ears. You moved dramatically slow, like you were attempting not to spook a feral cat—and in a weird way, you were.
Ghost’s eyes were burning a hole through you as he just let you touch him like this. He had half a mind to push you away, but his body knew how alone he felt as well. He craved this.
You rested a hand on his chest and Ghost felt your touch burn him through his clothes. He gently moved his shoulders so he was sliding his tactical gear off. Your small fingers helped, throwing his vest onto the floor. In one swift motion, Ghost decided what he wanted and he pulled you on top of him, your body flat against his. A small yelp had escaped your lips. You were afraid Ghost could feel your heart racing. His arms tightened their grip around you, suddenly overflowing with the need to connect with another human. To have your delicate hands caress him. To feel the warmth of your body against his.
He slipped his gloves off and he placed his calloused hands on your exposed arms. You held in a tight breath as he gently touched you.
You felt his chest move as he let out a painful breath. You peered up at him finally, faintly making his eyes and mask out in the dim light. Ghost looked down at you as he felt your eyes lock onto him. You gulped, unsure of what your next moves would bring.
You trailed your hands up, making Ghost’s own slip from your arms and rest on your waist. You propped yourself up slightly as you reached out to Ghost’s mask. He flinched backwards before stilling. Taking that as consent, your fingers pulled the bottom of his mask up from its spot under his black shirt. Ghost was breathing loudly through his nose as you edged the hem of it up slowly. You finally pushed it up, just enough to expose his jaw and the tip of his nose. You stopped there to much of Ghost’s relief. If you had tried to remove his mask any further, he would have likely thrown you off of him.
“I get it,” he said softly.
“Hm?” Your eyes traced his lips as he spoke, his thick accent pooling from his mouth that you could finally see. He had quite a bit of stubble coming in. “Being alone,” he finished.
“And do you like it, LT?” Your eyes darted up to his, almost challenging him. Did he like being alone? He had told himself yes for years. Every void he felt didn’t matter. He filled it with violence and bloodshed from striking down his enemies.
But now, having your warm body flesh against his own, your tiny fingers brushing against his jaw as you pried his mask up, he wasn't so sure. He wanted you. Desperately.
Ghost’s silence was deafening as he contemplated. Finally, he pulled you up into him, a small “Wha—“ leaving your lips before they were locked with his. Ghost didn’t begin to move until you reciprocated. Then, he deepened the kiss. His mouth attacked yours fervently. Your hand slid up to his chest to hold yourself steady. One of Ghost’s hands tightened on your hip, the other moving into your hair. He pulled you closer, his tongue sliding against your lips. His fingers clenched your hair, a feeling he hadn’t felt in so long.
As fast as it began, it ended. Ghost pulled back, both of you breathless. His hand didn’t leave its spot behind your head as he spoke. “No. I don’t fucking like it.”
Your eyes widened in reaction to something you couldn’t quite explain. Your body tingled as he stared at you. You moved your fingers to the hem of his t-shirt, edging it up. You wondered if you were going too far. Before you could finish your thought, Ghost pushed you back onto his thighs and tore his shirt off, careful to not catch his mask in the process. At this angle, you could make out the details of his partially exposed face. You saw old, faded scars that trickled across his face. One slid down his neck to his shoulder.
You pulled your tank top off, your breasts exposed, though he could hardly see in this lighting. You tentatively leaned forward, your chests colliding. You hugged him as close as you could, your body flat against his once again, but without the fabric. Ghost’s arms came up to wrap around you, pulling you into him. You felt a sigh of relief escape his mouth as you held each other, your fingers tracing smooth circles on his side.
You could hear his heartbeat. You smiled lazily. How much you had missed having someone you trust this close.
You turned to him and leaned up to kiss again. You could see his hesitation, but he concluded his thoughts by softly kissing your lips. You felt a chill run down your spine. This was the man who could scare a grown man with just a look. The man who gave you orders. The man who couldn’t be killed. A man filled with such rage that it came out in bursts of humor here and there. A man who hadn’t shown anyone his face is God knows how long.
And then here he was, pressed against you, kissing you so delicately like you might break. His rough fingers ran along your back, the heat from your body making him sweat.
He should be worried about what this meant for the two of you. How wrong this was since he was your lieutenant. But Ghost’s mind was so preoccupied, he wasn’t sure he had the strength to think about anything other than the way you were consuming him in this moment.
He felt your fingers fiddle with his belt. A wave of heat ran to his crotch. He pushed you back and you pouted, suddenly embarrassed. You had gone too far. Of course, Ghost wouldn’t want to—
You were cut off when you saw Ghost lifting his hips to push his pants down. You gulped, a blush spreading across your chest.
He reached out for you. He knew how pathetic he was acting, but he didn’t care. He was drunk off your touch and fuck, did he need more. He wouldn’t let himself ruin this.
His fingers played with the hem of your leggings and he tried to pull them down. You stood up and tore them off before settling yourself on his thighs once again. Your hands rested on his strong shoulders, looking into his eyes shyly. He was breathing deeply as he stared at you. Both of you were shocked at what you were doing.
“We can stop if…” he started, but you reached out and dragged your fingers along his scruffy jaw, making his words get trapped in his throat. Your finger pads tickled him as they slid down his slightly hairy chest and traced over his faded scars.
“Do they still hurt?” You asked timidly, afraid you were really pushing things now. Maybe all he wanted was the feeling of a woman in his bed after not having one for so long. You bringing up his battle scars was sure to kill the mood.
“Not physically.” You felt goosebumps rise on your skin, his voice far deeper than you’ve ever heard him before. You leaned down and placed a kiss against them. Peppering him with your soft lips. Ghost felt his eyes shut as he focused on the way your lips felt against him. Your wandering hands tracing his side and thigh.
You looked back up at him and his hands immediately went to you. His hand slowly skimmed your thigh, edging closer to your throbbing core. He hesitated before stroking his knuckle against your underwear, making you bite your lip. He was so slow with his movements, wanting to be gentle with you. Shit. Had it really been this long since he got laid?
He watched as your eyes squeezed shut, your nails digging into his shoulder as he continued to drag his knuckles against you.
Ghost had reached his breaking point when he saw your face drowning in pleasure. He grabbed your hips and flipped you around so you laid sprawled beneath him. You let out a tiny yelp, your eyes wide open now as you stared at a hovering Ghost above you. His hands gripped your panties and slid them down your legs and threw them on the floor. He looked down at you, his mouth all but watering. You tried to squeeze your thighs together feeling flustered at his gaze. He pried your legs apart and settled himself between them so you couldn’t close them again. “Don’t get shy on me now, pet.”
You took in a sharp breath at the name he just called you. Unsure if you liked it or not, Ghost halted movement before you were prying at his waistband. His husky chuckle vibrated through his chest.
He pushed his underwear down just enough to free himself and he rubbed himself against you. You gasped and grabbed onto his shoulders again. You wanted to look down and see if he was as big as you thought but it was too dark in your room to tell. You’d find out soon enough.
Ghost’s pupils were blown as he pressed against your soaking entrance. He crashed down on top of you and held himself up with his elbow, his chest pressing against yours, his other hand lining himself up. As he began to push himself into you, his hand came up, getting lost in your hair.
You both groaned as he stretched you out, slowly filling you. He really was big.
After a few painfully long moments, he bottomed out, his breath hot on your neck as he panted against you. His hands continued to wander across your body, grabbing the fat around your thigh and hips every so often. Then moving up to caress the swell of your breast. Ghost pulled out and then pushed himself back in rather roughly. “Simon,” you gasped. His name in your voice had his eyes honing in on yours. He sounded gruff as he spoke, “Am I hurting you?”
You shook your head, desperate for him to slam into you again. You bucked your hips against him and he got the message.
Simon began at a steady pace, growling each time his cock hit your cervix. You dug your nails into his back, Simon painfully stretching you out.
Simon’s face sank into the crook of your neck, leaving little kisses against your skin as he rutted into you. He smelled of mint and gunsmoke. His hand slid along your body and up into your hair, giving it a slight pull. You mewled, your eyes fluttering. “Like all the lil’ noises you make,” he grumbled between grunts.
Your walls clenched against him and he swore under his breath, his hands gripping you tighter. His body laid flat against yours, your nipples pressing against him. You were completely engulfed by this large man; you never felt so safe.
You began muttering incoherent words as he filled you up, completely drunk off him. Ghost pulled away and looked down at you. Your eyes met his. Your face was glowing with sweat as the two of your bodies intertwined in the small quarters.
Ghost gripped your thighs and pushed them towards you so he could get a better angle, all while never breaking eye contact.
“Fuckin’ hell,” he moaned. Your hands clenched the bedsheets, your walls tightening in on him. You both were dangerously close.
One of his fingers began to rub circles on your clit. Your eyes rolled into the back of your head as you repeated his name again and again. “Look at me,” Simon demanded. Your eyes flew open and locked back with his as you came, your walls clenching Ghost’s cock painfully tight. He moaned as he watched you gasp in ecstasy.
“Fuck. Simon,” you mewled. That was enough to push him over the edge. He pulled out of you before stroking himself and coming against your lower belly, leaving ropes of his come dripping down you.
You both struggled to catch your breath. Simon rubbed his cock against your slit, riding out both of your highs.
Your orgasm floated away as you came down from your high, relaxing into the pillow. The dark makeup around Ghost’s eyes were smudging from the heat, but it just made his eyes even more captivating.
Before you could speak, Simon leaned over and grabbed his t-shirt, wiping his mess off your belly.
Ghost’s eyes analyzed your face, trying to read your expression. He pulled his mask back down and silently got dressed. You did the same.
You looked up at him as he towered over you, he seemed a lot shorter when you were both horizontal. He had everything on except his shirt, which he held in his hand. You’d be lying if you said the sight of Ghost’s exposed chest wasn’t sending a rush of warmth between your thighs again.
He stood there, lost for words. You shifted between your feet as he intently watched you.
“I, uhm. If you want, you can…well. You can lay here with me. For a bit. If you wanted.”
Your face was red hot as you babbled like an idiot. But you desperately wanted Simon to lay down and hold you as you fell asleep, so you didn’t care about acting like a fool at this very moment.
Simon pushed off his tactical gear instantly as if he was just waiting for the invite. He loomed over you before pulling you down with him into your tiny bed. Ghost took up most of the mattress so you were forced to lay flat against him, his arm gripping you close like he never wanted to let go. Your back pressed into his chest and your eyes felt heavy at the rise and fall of his breath.
You felt him reach up and take his mask off, clutching it in his hand as he held you, his mouth next to your ear as he shared your pillow. You fell asleep to his warm breath and nose nuzzling you. You’d worry about the awkwardness tomorrow, especially when you realized Ghost would have to somehow exit your room without getting caught.
Ghost’s hand clutched you against him the entire time he slept. He hadn’t slept this well in years.
#ghost#simon riley#ghost x reader#simon riley x reader#cod#ghost cod#ghost fanfic#simon riley fanfic#ghost mw2#ghost call of duty#fluff#angst#ghost angst#cod mw2
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"Can't we just stay like this?" (blurb)
jamie drysdale x reader
summary - 465 words. waking up with Jamie in the morning
author's note - I've been avoiding all my uni work... just getting all my daydreams written down
warnings - just pure fluff
As the soft ring of Jamie’s alarm pierced the morning calm, it gently roused him from his slumber. Wrapped in the comforting embrace of the soft duvet, his entangled body felt the warmth of sunlight filtering through the curtains. Beside him, Y/N stirred as Jamie’s arm, heavy with sleep, reluctantly left her side to reach for his phone. “Just a few more minutes,” he mumbled, silencing the alarm with a sleepy press of his finger. Reclaiming his position, his arm found its way back around her waist, drawing her closer. She nestled into him, seeking solace in his embrace. With a gentle kiss on her forehead, Jamie savored the moment, knowing he’d soon have to leave for early morning practice. “Do uo have to go?” she murmured, her voice carrying a silent plea. Jamie chuckled softly, his fingers tracing patterns in her hair as he looked down at her sleepy face. Her eyes met his, still glazed with remnants of sleep, yet undeniably beautiful. He couldn’t help but smile at her plea, leaning in to pepper her face with kisses, earning a giggle from her lips. “I don’t think the team would appreciate my absence,” he teased, Y/N pouting playfully giving him puppy eyes. “I’m sure they wouldn’t mind,” she countered with a chuckle, pulling him even closer into their shared warmth.
As Jamie’s gaze shifts to the faint imprints left on Y/N’s face by the pillow, he gently inquires, “Did you sleep well?” Y/N responds with a soft “mhm”, confirming her peaceful slumber. Jamies fingers delicately trace the marks on her skin, earning a playful swat from Y/N as she chuckled, “I can tell.”
With a gentle touch, Jamie brushes a few stray strands of Y/N's hair away from her face, his actions reflecting his affection and care. He begins to rub gentle circles over Y/N's back, soothing her with his touch as they linger in the intimacy of the moment. "Can we just stay like this?" Y/N whispers, her voice laced with a plea for more time together. Jamie's heart softens at her request, but he knows his commitment to practice awaits. With a sigh, he gently reminds her of his impending departure, his reluctance mirrored in his eyes as he reluctantly prepares to part ways.
With a tender smile, Jamie reassures Y/N, "I'll be back before you know it." Leaning in, he places a soft, lingering kiss on her lips, conveying his affection and promise to return. Reluctantly, he detangles himself from their embrace, his heart heavy with the prospect of leaving her side. With one last loving look, Jamie gathers his things and heads out the door, carrying the warmth of their shared moment with him as he sets off for practice.
#nhl fanfic#hockey fanfic#hockey fic#jamie drysdale#jamie drysdale x reader#jamie drysdale imagine#jamie drysdale fic#travis konecny#philadelphia flyers#flyers fanfic#jd9#nhl fanfiction
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2nd Chances
Nico and I have been friends since we were kids. We did every single thing together. From coloring in kindergarten to joining the wrestling team in high school, we were ceremonial twins essentially despite are vastly different racial backgrounds. Hell we even came out as Bi to one another at the same time.
We were always on the same page until we got to college. It's so silly in retrospect. I could have never foreseen that we would like the same person and that it would lead to such a big fight that we both stormed off to cool down. He went for a run on campus and I got in my car and sped off, but so did this speeding truck that ran a red light.
I was in the hospital for 3 months and every day Nico would stop by and stay by my side crying, pleading, wishing for me to wake up. But when that 3rd month ended, so did doctor's hope that I would ever wake up.
I remember hearing Nico hysterically crying telling the doctors to fix me. There was no fixing me.
The night before they were set to take me off life support, Nico layed in my hospital bed with me. That's when he made the wish.
"I don't want to lose you Emil but I'm going to live out everything you've wanted to accomplish. I just wish I could do more so you could be the one to live our your dreams."
I woke up the next day and picked up my phone...what? How am I picking up my phone? Wait this isn't my phone? But it unlocked to my face? I fiddled my fingers to open up the selfie camera.
"Nico?" I gasped.
The bed I was in was empty. Someone from the hospital came to break the news to me that "Emil" passed away at night ahead of them disconnecting "him" from life support. They had staff place me in another bed while "his" family mourned.
"If I'm Nico does that mean...no....it can't"
I couldn't believe this he didn't make a wish to die, but then I sensed I wasn't alone. I got up and searched the room. But no one was there. Instead I heard a voice but it was inside my head.
"Hello? What's going on?" the voice said.
I couldn't wrap my head around all of these new developments. I felt like I was about to faint and honestly thought I did. But then the body I'm in braced itself and spoke out loud without me doing it.
"Woah. What just happened? I was like watching myself move but not controlling?" Nico's body said.
That's when it clicked
"Nico is that you in here?" I yelled in an exasperated glee.
Nico and I headed to a cafe where he got a coffee and we spoke in our weird new internalized way. I told him to put his headphones on so no one would think he was crazy.
We never thought a wish would lead to something beyond scientific explanation. It felt like we were always hugging one another, just surrounded by each others platonic love. I was so glad I didn't have to lose him even though it meant I lost my body.
Weeks went by and it was hard for me. Anytime I took control of Nico's body I felt like I was putting a show on pretending. But that's not me. I think the best perk of being in the same body was Nico being present and co-experiencing my emotions.
"You don't have to pretend to be me. We can just make a new 'Nico'. The last thing I want is for you to feel like you're unhappy or trapped Emil." Nico said giving me the closest thing he could to a consoling hug.
Over the next few days we talked about boundaries about our new Nico.
No partners without both agreeing. No major tattoos and piercings without both agreeing. You might be sensing a theme here. The new Nico was a democracy, but at least I didn't have to be hyper masculine like I thought he wanted me to be. If anything my flamboyant nature was something he said he always wanted to channel more but felt too insecure to do.
Becoming one person felt like we were actually 2 halves finally returning together for the greater good.
But at the end of the day, we're still 2 college aged bi dudes. When we went out it was the best of both world times 2. We turned looks that channeled both our vibes but also our drive was insatiable. It may just be one body but partners had to please 2 sex drives.
In the semi-rare occasion we both agreed on one person to go home with, we destroyed them, especially men. Those became our favorite interactions only because it was easier to flip and f*ck.
I'd start leading them on letting them think they'd get to top such a beefy and submissible bottom which was true. Nico's body was not a bottom before I got here but he absolutely should have. His butt was almost asking to be spread and eaten. These thighs from years of wrestling and collegiate sports allowed me to just ride for an hour if I wanted. By the time they were done and we're glistening in sweat and panting, Nico tagged in.
He's the definition of a fuckboy with the way he lays pipe. He knew all the right ways to treat you before impaling you with his sizably thick dick. I'll never forget the face of the first guy we flipped. He was looking at us so surprised with eyes that almost look like he was hungry for us. Back and forth, thrusting until they moan unbelievably loud from the lengthy sessions. I don't know how NIco was cumming before but he's definitely cumming enough for 2 people with the way we climax now.
We're glad to be together now....no more than anything I'm glad to be Nico now, too.
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I do love the idea of an unhinged reader. Not like brutally unhinged but... like the kind that is harmlessly annoying and is just a brat to Task Force 141.
Like the mother fuckers nickname is Menace and they're somehow still alive after everything so they make it everyone's problem.
They're great at what they do, amazing even— but no team wants menaces like Menace, not even the heavens nor the hells want the damn person.
This is the same Menace who wears a devilish half-mask, but only above their mouth so people can see their shit-eating grin (think similar to the ghoul mask above) as they leave small firecrackers under the lids of toilet seats, or so people notice the way their lips curl up in mock disgust when someone is talking.
Menace who only goes through with the SAS training to one up another soldier they despised, enough to have sicked a pack of squirrels on that they personally hand fed a few days after— they even bonded enough with the little fuckers that when they were finally transferred out to be someone else's problem, the squirrels would steal the remaining soldiers foods.
Laswell, whose grand idea of knocking the boys down a peg since she's tired of their shenanigans includes getting this Menace of a person to join 141 with faint threats of blackmail— to which Coporal Menace respects, leading Kate to being the only one who is not subjected to the dumpster fire that is about to happen, but is only encouraged by her wife.
Price, who in his right mind, nearly rejects the idea of this misfit joining because of their turnover rate but gives in when Laswell tells him it would be worth it— that her wife likes them and they're an excellent solider after all.
Immediately upon arrival, Menace lives up to their name— pissing on the side of the building as if to mark their new territory before deciding it would be a good idea to rile up the behemoth of a man by asking Price: "Didn't anyone tell the poor bastard that Halloween was four fuckin' months ago? Look at 'em he looks emo."
It wasn't until then that the poor Captain realized how much of an untamed brat his new corporal was— only to be further set in after the first two weeks on base.
Sure Menace got along with Soap, but they were far too alike for Menace's likings and Gaz, sweet sweet Gaz, gave them a few too man odd glances and playfully snide remarks for their liking— meanwhile Ghost had made them scrub the bathroom from top to bottom with a small sponge, and well they could already see the forming regret in Price's eyes.
So Menace did what they did best.
It started out simple: silently attaching balloons on strings to the back of their clothes without them noticing, flipping all of the furniture upside down during the middle of the night, purposefully mocking every single move of one of the operators for a full day, sugar in the salt shaker or salt in the sugar dish, you name it they did it.
Glitterbomb the captain? Oh yeah, and there's still glitter in his mustache.
Tied the two sergeants' doors together so that neither could open it? Done and done, they were locked in their rooms for a good hour until someone cut the rope.
Move the lieutenant’s furniture two inches to the right so that he would constantly stub his toe? Yeah, you can practically see him fuming after every trip to his office.
And what irked the lads the most? Menace kept getting away without being caught— managing to even out sneak Ghost, which the only reason for it is: Menace knowing they don't know what they look like without that mask. So obviously they take it off and blend in with the many other people on base.
They made a fool of their sergeants, their lieutenant, and their captain and it was time to get back at the cunning prankster— but Menace grew suspicious. Usually they would have been booted out by a normal team by then, but what Menace came to realize a bit too late was that Task Force 141 was not normal.
And reality came to a head when Menace was called to Price's office to collect something— only for that something to be a bucket of ice cold water falling onto their head and for the captain to tell their now soaking wet and cold Coporal: "Game's on, brat."
#cod mw2#gaz cod#ghost cod#john price#kyle gaz garrick#john soap mctavish#soap cod#price cod#call of duty x reader#cod x male reader#john price x reader#simon ghost riley x reader#honestly can turn this into smut#menace reader#task force 141#tf141 are totally brat tamers while also being brats#tf 141 x reader#drabble
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could we maybe get some momfriend!reader and jack dynamics, maybe from before her and Aaron were even together?
something special
<333 cw; fem!bau!reader, very tiny blood description (& yes i know you're supposed to wash a paper cut right away but for the sake of the setting and aaron being cute i didn't include that step 😭), mentions of haley, mutual pining
"whatcha drawing?" you asked mid-writing, your pen flying across your paper but still finding the opportunity to peek over.
"spiderman and superman." jack replied happily, switching from a red to a blue crayon. "see, they're teaming up to fight the bad guy because he keeps doin' crimes."
about an hour or so ago, jessica had dropped off jack at the bau. long story short; she was called into work urgently and with aaron in a meeting, you were quick to volunteer yourself to keep him company. rather than cramming into the small space of your desk, and jack potentially hearing conversations or details not fit for a six year old, you've made home in the roundtable room. you could work, jack could color.
you had also fired off a quick text to aaron; letting him know jack was with you, a brief synopsis of the situation and where he could find you both once his meeting concluded. it had, and he was about to join, but found himself pausing outside the door, listening to your easy, lighthearted conversation for just a moment.
when it came to you and jack, there was just something about it. something extraordinarily special.
"i see," you nodded along to jack's words, an encouraging smile on your face. "that's really good. since when did you become an artist?"
"since always." jack grinned proudly.
"then you have to promise you'll make me a drawing soon. my desk is pretty boring, i need something to brighten it up." you held out your pinky, eyebrows raised. "promise?"
"i promise." jack linked his pinky with yours, and turned back to his masterpiece with renewed vigor.
a sense of warmth filled aaron's chest, the ends of his lips turning upwards into a faint smile at the natural bond you and jack had developed so quickly, over the course of a few weeks. deciding it was as good a time as ever to join, aaron reached out to fully open the door when a wince-gasp came from jack, stopping him.
"oh no," your head turned. "paper cut?"
jack nodded meekly, grimacing as his gaze shifted to you. his big, sweet eyes were tearful, "it stings."
"can i see?" he offered his hand limply, hanging downwards at the wrist. you cradled his small hand in yours; it was just a tiny cut - no more than a few centimeters, a faint line of red gradually seeping to the surface.
"hm, well," you huffed a breath, turning his hand face-up face-down - vaguely exaggerating the examination. you got up to retrieve the first-aid kit stationed in the room, aaron sidestepping a bit to keep out of potential view. "i think luck was on your side today, i don't think we'll have to amputate this time." you spoke with an airy tone, quick to bring light to the situation. it worked, jack stifling a laugh as you retook your seat. "nothing a bandaid can't fix."
there was the click of kit opening, a slight shuffle of what sounded like paper.
"and don't tell anyone i told you this," you applied a bit of ointment onto the bandaid before wrapping it onto his finger - not too tight or too loose, all to avoid cutting off circulation and to let the wound breathe. "we gotta keep extra band aids around because your dad always seems to get one himself."
"dad gets paper cuts? really?" jack's eyes widened in surprise.
just as his son, a breathless chuckle exited aaron; that wasn't necessarily true, but your intentions were clear: cheering jack up.
in addition, the last time he had heard someone talking to or interacting with jack like this - empathetically, attentively, motherly, was, well... haley.
it touched the usually unattended part of his heart that had been vastly empty since the divorce. since that one, horrible day. while the emptiness still lingered, you had made a pull at it. for a moment, you had healed it, even.
again, there was just something special about you. and again, the only way aaron could describe it was extraordinary.
"really." you nodded convincingly, tossing the little plastic scraps into the nearby trash bin, giving top of jack's hand a consoling pat. "it happens all the time."
aaron mentally rolled his eyes at that, a smile itching at his lips.
jack picked up his brown crayon, pain forgotten, eager to get back to his drawing. "i'm gonna draw daddy and put a bandaid on him. he's a superhero too, y'know?"
"yeah," your smile was rather bashful, your tone of voice so admirable it caused a blush to rise in aaron's cheek. "i know."
#aaron hotchner x reader#aaron hotchner#aaron hotchner fluff#aaron hotchner x you#aaron hotch x reader#aaron hotchner imagine#aaron hotchner x fem!reader#criminal minds#criminal minds x reader#criminal minds x fem!reader#criminal minds drabble#aaron hotchner drabble#criminal minds imagine#criminal minds fanfiction#hotch imagine#criminal minds x you
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hobie green
— hobie brown x gn!reader
summary: You never knew punks could be into gardening — or into you.
word count: 2.9k
warnings: mentions of underage drinking, brief mentions of politics, fluff, not very edited
a/n: based on a silly headcanon me and @qiuweyballs came up with. 99% identical to my tag team fic arrest me i love friends to lovers (just lovers in my drafts prommie)
There were a lot of things you didn't expect about your friend Hobie. The first thing was that he was Spider-Man (but you kind of figured after all those patch-up sessions at your place.) Second, was that he lived on a boat — not the most outrageous thing; somewhat non-conformist, somewhat Hobie-like — he wasn't the only boater in Camden. The third thing you didn't expect, however, was that this “hero”, non-conformist, punk, anarchist and whatever other label he'd projected, would have so many… plants.
“You're lookin’ at me funny.”
The “hero”, non-conformist, punk, anarchist and now plant dad in question sat with his feet propped up against one of the many windows of his canal boat, an unassuming eyebrow raised.
“…Nah, don't worry about it,” you muttered, shifting awkwardly on your feet as you tried not to knock anything over, taking in the overflowing greenery of the room.
There was pretty much every plant you could think of: regular household plants under the windows, a tomato stalk in the corner, small cacti in odd places — he even had a pretty well-maintained chilli plant, bathing more gloriously in a patch of sunlight than you ever could. The boat felt more like a disorganised plant shop than a home, if it weren't for the rowdy radical posters and punk collages peeking in-between. Maybe these plants were as much like your friend as all the anarchy-themed decoration he’d made himself — or Hobie had just stolen a boat with a lot of plants in it.
Squeezing past some more foliage, you sat beside Hobie on his tiny canvas couch. He gave you a glance of acknowledgement before reaching for his guitar, setting it between his kicked-up legs as you tried to get more comfortable. The red coating of the instrument had almost entirely peeled off, instead covered by loud stickers and scratchy writing. You weren’t sure what any of it really meant, or why his guitar wasn’t tuned in the first place (it never seemed to be when you two were hanging out) — but right now, you were wondering why he was being so quiet. The silence was nice, though, so you didn’t let yourself think of anything else to ask.
Swaying gently from time to time, the canal boat hummed with the splashing of water and faint strumming of Hobie’s guitar. These quiet, almost tranquil moments were unexpected for someone as spontaneous as Hobie, but they were also welcome, you decided. The world was falling apart, but it was nice to be away from that in the middle of a canal with your best friend — even with his many plants.
You felt a tug behind your back, realising Hobie was trying to get something. Mumbling a quick sorry, you moved to let him get the thing you were sitting on. It was a pink jumper — much too small to be his. After carefully draping it over the backrest, he cracked a smile at you.
“Gotta give that to Gwendy,” he told himself, nails tapping on the back of the guitar neck.
Gwendy (Gwen? Wendy?) was a friend he'd made recently, and you’d never seen a trace of her despite the fact that they supposedly lived together. That was until now; the sweater looked nice, soft, high-quality — nothing like anything you could afford here. Maybe she was well-off. How old even was she? Did Gwendy like plants too?
“Yeah? Is she your roommate?” you inquired, leaning forward to look at him. “Boatmate?”
“You sayin’ this isn’t a room?” Hobie set his guitar against the wall as if the conversation was suddenly more important.
“More like a garden.”
He tilted his head to the side at your response, finally meeting your eyes with his own glinting with amusement.
“You want a tour, then? Private — totally elitist.”
“Have you got more plants or something?”
He crossed his arms at you. “You’re actin’ like it’s a problem.”
It wasn’t a problem, per se, you just couldn’t imagine living with so many plants. Maybe it was his superhuman reflexes that kept him from slipping and smashing his face into a plant pot; you almost tripped on some dead roots earlier.
“Nah nah, it’s not. You got uh… free oxygen.” Clearly there wasn’t enough oxygen going to your brain at that moment if that's the only thing you could come up with. You held back a sigh; you’d never be as fast as Hobie. He just snickered.
“They privatise oxygen too?” Not his most clever quip, you thought.
“Maybe. Is that why you have so many plants? To breathe better?”
Hobie gave you a frown. If you didn't know better, you might've felt bad. “You don’t want the tour?”
“Go on,” you beckoned, dryly.
“Get up, then.”
“Can’t be bothered.” The sofa creaked as you leaned back on it, folding your arms as if you were going to sleep. If it was still quiet, maybe you could’ve actually fallen asleep to the gentle rocking motion of the boat.
“You come over to have a snooze?” he teased, leaning over until you pushed him away — one of his usual ways of driving you mad; you wouldn’t have it. “Want to be my boatmate too?”
“Wouldn’t mind.” The words came out by themselves, but you figured they might be true.
“Gwendy’s only here sometimes — you could.”
“I’d miss my place,” you objected, feeling slightly uncertain at the idea now. It was probably better if that weird feeling in your chest whenever you saw Hobie wasn’t a constant in your life anyway.
“Your place is only good for the pub down the road.” Maybe so — you two certainly weren’t good for the pub, though. All you did was shrug in response.
Hobie tapped his foot for a moment, appearing to muse about something. Before you knew it, he slid his hand between your back and the sofa and you were suddenly your feet in one swift motion.
“Hey—” The floor creaked as he started walking you out to the front of the boat, arm slung around your shoulder. You sighed reluctantly at him, but his grin just widened.
“You starting the tour from here?” Despite the cool wind now rushing past the two of you, your tone came out less energetic than you’d like.
Your heart dropped for a moment as Hobie let go of you, suddenly jumping up backwards onto the barriers. He crouched easily on the edge as you let out a small breath of relief. Even if there was no chance he’d fall into the water, you’d never get used to that.
“Nah, no tour,” he replied, hands on his knees as he looked down at you with squinted eyes. “I ain't no elitist.”
The lingering fear in your chest from Hobie’s stunt died down, and the way the late-day sun was hitting his face replaced it with that weird swishing sensation you could never get used to.
Honey-gold sunlight reflected off of his skin, his face shimmering where there were angles and glowing softly where there weren’t. His eyes glistened like copper, your own face in the reflection like the rich people on coins as you searched for any trace of amusement in his expression. You couldn’t find anything; he was just looking at you. The swishing became more like a crashing tide, your chest growing tighter. Maybe you should’ve feigned interest in the plants when you could.
“…Okay,” you managed, after realising that you’d been staring for a while. Tearing your eyes away from the tall, glistening silhouette of your best friend who was sitting like the figurehead of a sailing ship, you looked back into the boat house before another little plant caught your attention. It was the only plant sitting outside — a young rosemary with a paper tag attached to it.
You squatted down to look at it, figuring that Hobie had nothing to say right now. Taking the tag in your hands, you read “Helen”, written in lovely cursive writing.
“Helen… you name your plants?” It was too nice to be Hobie’s handwriting, but you decided to joke a bit anyway.
“Yeah,” he answered, deadpan, and you tried not to let him catch your eyeroll. “Some lady comin’ through Regent’s gave it to me.”
“People give you plants?”
“All the time, actually.”
Huh… It made enough sense. You did see your fair share of plants in other boats; maybe people wanted to give Spider-Man a thanks or something, or just get rid of some plants they get lying around. You recalled aloe plant you saw earlier, having almost slipped on the pile of dead roots beside it — interesting to gift a rotting plant. It looked like it needed a lot of care; you wondered who could get an aloe to that point.
Deciding to sit by the much nicer rosemary plant with your back against the doors, you caught the faint aroma of the leaves. If Hobie already had vegetable plants, he’d probably make good use out of this one once it got a little more mature. Maybe as a seasoning, or make it into an oil somehow, or just leave it as decoration. There was a lot you could do, you realised, and having plants was starting to look just a little cool. Everything Hobie did was cool — as much as you didn’t like to admit it.
“…What’s up with you?”
Hobie’s voice caught you off guard. You looked back to see that the figurehead was now sitting opposite you on the floor of the little outdoor cockpit, hands loose between his bent knees.
“What do you mean?” He couldn’t just tell like that, could he? Nothing was different… until recently. Until you realised you had that feeling.
“You're quiet,” he stated, though his tone wasn't all that serious. “Y’don’t come over, or come see old Hobie.”
“Old Hobie,” you repeated, half of a laugh coming out of your mouth. “Like Old Tom?”
Tom was the bar owner of the pub you frequented — if your antics could be considered “frequenting”. The two of you were probably the reason why he was “Old” Tom.
“Need to see that geezer,” Hobie mused, leaning back against the wood with a creak.
“A lot of people you’ve gotta see.” It came out far too sardonic, and you held your breath like you’d just placed a bet.
Hobie stuck his bottom lip out, lip ring catching the light. “Like you.”
The sun had faded by now, but that feeling hadn’t, you realised.
“I'm right here,” you replied.
“I brought you.”
“It’s not like I knew which out of the hundred boats was yours. Half of them’ve got plants anyway.”
“You do now.”
“I guess.”
Stretching a little, you shifted to sit more like Hobie, leg brushing against the rosemary leaves for a moment. Hobie cracked his knuckles in the meantime, and you realised you hadn’t really seen him in a while. It wasn’t all your fault, he just kept disappearing. Maybe you should stop waiting for him to come to you all the time.
“I’ll see you again before you have to go to the care home, Old Hobie,” you muttered, getting a snicker out of him.
“They’ll never get me in one of those.”
“You don’t wanna be an elder punk?”
“Not in them institutions — I’ll bail you out as well.”
You never imagined the thought of growing old with someone would go in this direction. Well, it was Hobie.
“I appreciate it, Old Hobie” you replied, though not too enthusiastically. Hobie smirked.
“Come pub with me, then. Don’t need ID if I’m retired.” Despite your best efforts, you smiled just a little.
It wasn’t like you gave Tom ID anyway, but you found it amusing regardless. Maybe it was the idea of being like those old people at the pub: loud, obnoxious, opiniated… Nothing much would change, actually.
“Don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“How come?” Hobie leaning forward on his knees, as if to taunt you. “Scared you’ll get pissed like last time?”
“I did not get pissed!” you retorted, face aching with an incriminating smile. Your stomach churned with the memory of that night — or lack thereof.
“Had to actually peel you off me. My Spider Powers didn’t even help.”
You groaned and laughed at the same time, trying to ease the embarrassment by putting a hand on the plant pot; it was cool, and you felt a chip near the rim.
“Don’t lie.”
“Never did.”
“Fine, yeah.” It sounded like a bit like an admission to a crime; maybe getting that drunk was a crime. “Don’t wanna get pissed like last time.”
Hobie’s smirk faded a bit, before he let out a sigh — those were rare for him, you thought.
“Seriously though, we gotta go again sometime — it’s on you, yeah?”
You frowned at that, but it got no reaction out of him. “You’re the worst.”
“Like I don’t know.”
“You don’t know the half of it.” You weren’t exactly sure what you meant by that, but Hobie didn’t seem to question it.
Maybe he did actually know what was going on with you, even if you never tried to make a move. It was possible — the observant prick. A prick with a green thumb and looked like he’d been kissed by the sun itself and that you couldn't get out of your head.
If he did know, you wished he'd say something, at least.
Your hand lingered on the pot, and the paper tag found its way into your hands again.
“Helen,” you stated, glimpsing at the nice handwriting.
“You gonna call it that now?”
“Got a better name?”
“Yours,” he replied, too easily.
You weren’t sure what a rosemary plant was like, but it sounded enough like a compliment. Did rosemary have a meaning? Hobie wasn’t thinking that deep, of course. Not about things like labels, no matter how many you had for him.
“Am I like a rosemary?”
“Dunno. If you were a plant, I’d keep you though.”
That made you laugh, albeit awkwardly.
“…What are you on about?” you muttered, shaking your head. “Random… You keep like, any plant anyway.”
“I keep the ones I like.”
“Your boat's a greenhouse. Maybe you just like every plant.”
“Maybe I just like you.”
A jolt of pain ran in your mouth, eyes almost squeezing shut — you’d bit your tongue. Hobie was silent, so you couldn’t be.
“Maybe,” you murmured through gritted teeth.
“Maybe,” he repeated, with his usual unbothered amusement that drove your feelings back into hiding. Hobie Brown — “hero”, non-conformist, punk, anarchist — your best friend.
You’d get over it, you told yourself — not for the first time.
Now with a weird attachment to the plant, you tried to seem interested in the tag again — you could say it’d… grown on you. Would he make a joke like that? You wanted to crumple the tag. It looked too nice to do that, so you turned it around to look at the back instead.
“ROSEMARY — remembrance, friendship, love.”
A dry laugh escaped your mouth; even this plant was mocking you. Maybe it felt sorry.
“What’s got you laughin’?” You almost forgot about Hobie; that would’ve been nice. No, you’d get over it soon.
“You better name this plant after me,” you joked, more so to yourself, and in a very much self-pitying way even though he wouldn’t get it. As Hobie’s gaze trailed to the tag, that feeling in your chest threatened you, so you ripped it off before he could see it.
Thwip! Mistake. In a second, the tag was in Hobie’s hand. His face was unreadable as he looked at the back, no longer gold with sunlight.
“Yeah,” he mused, folding over the edge with his nail as his eyes met yours. You tried not to bite your tongue again.
“Yeah…?” You couldn't even give him an awkward laugh.
He held up the tag to show you the folded bit. There was a single word, the rest cut off — “love.”
“Your name fits pretty well.”
Your mouth was so dry, not even a cactus could live in it.
“I’d rather you not be a plant, by the way,” he continued, despite how lost you must’ve looked. “Be yourself, at the pub, tomorrow — opening time. Dress how you want.”
No words were coming out of your mouth. Hobie didn’t need you to say anything, though.
“It’s on me.”
You couldn't leave him hanging. You also couldn’t shy away forever, not when it was right in front of your face. Not when he'd just asked you out.
”…Like a date?”
“Better than a date.”
A smile formed on your lips. After that feeling had been buried under the soil for so long, it was starting to blossom, like the little blue flowers on a rosemary bush.
“Okay,” you replied, winning something that was neither a grin nor a smirk from him — a smile, warm like sunlight, and just like yours.
“Okay.” Hobie chucked the tag back to you, the edge still folded over as you took it in your hand.
“ROSEMARY — remembrance, friendship,”
“love.”
“I’ll let you keep it, if you want.”
Your smile turned into a grin as you brushed your fingertips over the leaves. “I’ll think about it.”
Spice, oil, decoration — this plant had one more use: getting you a date.
Maybe you liked plants more than you originally thought.
🕸️🔭🎸
thank you for reading !! honestly the friends to lovers thing was so not planned i just wrote this for fun (intended to be a drabble / imagine but it turned into this) less friends more lovers in the future hopefully?
thank you again to my friend chewy ^^ tom is actually his chr + the aloe plant detail
reblogs & feedback are super appreciated <3 catch the rest of my atsv stuff here!
#hobie brown x you#spider punk#hobie x reader#hobie brown#hobie spiderverse#hobie brown x y/n#hobie brown x reader#atsv hobie#hobie brown headcanons#atsv fanfiction#across the spiderverse#atsv#atsv x you#vee at 3am#vhstown
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↪ day six. perfectionism — #marchhotchness
ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ ❝ wool to brave the season ❞ ─ a choiceless hope blurb
pairing: aaron hotchner x bau!reader.
summary: but as you sat down on the floor of the crappy hotel, sharing bad coffee and feeling his warmth by your side, you knew that you wouldn’t have him any other way. even if you don’t really have him.
content warnings: set before the first part. you can read it without reading the rest tho. just a bit of angst and idiots in love and partnership and criminal minds canon descriptions of crimes.
word count: 800+
You woke up to the faint sound of shuffling of paper, the room was mostly dark and chilly, the clock on your bedside strikes two in the morning. You didn’t have to look to know, but still, you checked the other bed finding it empty, a source of light coming from steps ahead on the small hotel room showed you the prettiest scene.
Your partner in his pajamas, coffee pot and cup next to the lamp on the desk, his eyes were glued to the files and the thick book under them, which you imagined to be the crime classification manual.
The team had been briefed on the way there, but arriving in Seattle after dinner time made the plan of getting to the scenes as fast as possible change, and you were both told to rest for the night.
Hotch promised you he would go to bed in a bit, three hours ago.
You scoffed, getting up and taking the blanket you were just cozied up on with you, dropping it on his shoulders swiftly, he jolted in the chair in surprise, smiling when he noticed it was just you. “Did I wake you? Tried not to make any noise.”
His voice is raspy from how tired he is and from not speaking for a while and weirdly it brings you comfort, hearing him speak so quietly in the almost full darkness of that room, no outside noise coming in, as if only the two of you existed, as if he was yours.
“It’s cold, Aaron. Go to bed.” You don’t answer his question, instead you sit on the edge of the bed you were just sleeping on, waiting to hear him justify the ungodly hour of his work.
“I’m not cold anymore.” His attempt to not make it obvious the way he took a deep breath while tightening the blanket around him fails, and he knows you know he was trying to smell you through the fabric.
“Alright, I’ll bite. What you doing?”
“Building a profile.” He says matter of fact, shrugs as he does so but makes sure to hold the blanket so it doesn’t fall, he feels cozy in it, basking in the smell of your body wash and by how soft the fabric was. It was your blanket after all, you took it on every trip.
“We didn’t even–” You start, trying to argument that you hadn’t gone to the crime scenes yet, but he had recently become one of the lead profilers, promoted before you which made you just about 5% jealous and 95% proud because you knew how hard he worked, and how this case had to come out perfectly. The result had to be perfect.
Aaron was like that, he was a perfectionist, a controlling freak perfectionist, and his first case as lead profiler had left him empty handed, not enough to build the profile before the BAU was sent away. Since then he had become more and more obsessive, you had to deal with it during work and imagined his fiancee had to deal with it at home.
Although you reckon she might have better outcomes on making him relax.
You, on the other hand, don’t have as much freedom to do something about it, so you do what you can as his partner and friend. You get up, turn the lights on, get your glasses and sit on the floor across from him, opening your hand and waiting for him to give you some of the files.
“What?”
“Pass me some of those, let’s bounce some ideas back and forth, you know profiles can’t be built solo, you might be biased.” You sighed at his reluctance, the guilt from waking you up clear on his eyes. “I’m already up, just do it, stop being so annoying.”
You were bossy when you wanted, too bad he actually liked that, so he just smirked and threw half the files on your lap. The first you open are filled with photos from the autopsies, you whine, something about the cold lab atmosphere and the dead almost blue bodies always creeps you out, and Hotch knew it too, “oh fuck me–” Trying my best not to, he lets the intrusive thought come and go quickly, ignoring it, “autopsies, really?”
He shrugs, “I’m looking at the crime scene ones, the whole scene is organized, clean, but the bodies are torn apart, disorganized, personal, there’s too much disconnection.” Hotch slips down from the chair, sitting on the floor by your side and putting the pictures in front of you both to analyze.
The coffee is starting to get cold, so he grabs his cup from the table, sharing it with you as you worked on writing the discrepancies you both found between the scenes and the bodies.
Aaron is a perfectionist. He needs his plans to go exactly as he schemed them, he doesn’t like change and he likes to be prepared for what the next day will bring.
But as you sat down on the floor of the crappy hotel, sharing bad coffee and feeling his warmth by your side, you knew that you wouldn’t have him any other way.
Even if you don’t really have him.
#lari writes sometimes#marchhotchness#lari march hotchness#aaron hotch x reader#aaron hotch x you#aaron hotch imagine#aaron hotchner x reader#aaron hotchner x you#aaron hotchner imagine#criminal minds x reader#hotch x reader#hotch x you#hotch imagine#hotch scenario
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slow mornings | quinn hughes
a little dad!quinn blurb for your sunday evening <3
The house was quiet. Too quiet for a Saturday morning.
Usually, Saturday mornings started early with Sophie climbing into Quinn and I's bed. This morning, though, I was the only one laying under the duvet. As I racked my brain, trying to remember if there was a reason I had been abandoned in the bed, I remembered that I'd never seen Quinn last night. He was supposed to get home after midnight, flying home from a five-day road trip.
The panic began to set in when I realized that I had no messages from Quinn, his phone wasn't on his bedside table, and -- most importantly -- he wasn't lying in bed next to me. Flinging the covers off, I made my way down the hall to Sophie's room, where I discovered that she too was missing. Deciding to venture downstairs, I could hear the faint sounds of music coming from the living room.
As I entered, my heart swelled at the sight in front of me. Laying on the couch, both asleep, was Sophie and Quinn. Sophie was cuddled into her dad's side and didn't appear to be waking up anytime soon.
I quickly snapped a picture of the two of them before leaning down and placing a kiss to the top of Quinn's head. His eyes fluttered open and a lazy grin came over his features.
"Hey," he mumbled. "Can I have a real kiss?"
I smiled at his request.
"You want me to give you a kiss after you abandoned me in our bed?"
He just continued smiling at me, knowing that I'd give in eventually. And I did, leaning back down to give Quinn a 'real kiss' before walking around the couch and sitting on the unoccupied side of Quinn's body. I leaned onto his side as his arm came to wrap around my waist. I was looking at the movie currently playing on the tv; Winnie the Pooh was currently one of Soph's favorites. She especially loved Eeyore.
"Eeyore's actually such an underrated character," Quinn said, as if he could read my mind.
"You and Soph are too much alike," I replied, earning a nudge from my husband.
"Who's your favorite then?"
I didn't reply, which was an answer enough for Quinn.
"There's nothing wrong with liking Eeyore, you know. His grumpiness is funny. And realistic."
"Fair point."
We both laid in comfortable silence for a while, watching the children’s movie, when I figured I’d bring up the potentially touchy subject of Quinn’s road trip, during which they’d lost two games and won one.
"How was the trip?"
The involuntary sigh that escaped his lips was all I really needed to know. Quinn had already confided in me about how frustrating it was for his team to be having such an awful season, especially compared to Jack's, but to also have to see so many of his teammates and people he considered to be good friends get traded away. He didn't talk about it in front of his parents or his brothers, specifically Jack, because he didn't want to make everyone listen to his pity party when he knew they really just wanted to be basking in the glory of Jack's first really good season in the NHL.
"It sucked," Quinn admitted, his arm gripping my waist a little tighter. “But it’s over now, so it’s whatever.”
I looked up to him, communicating with just my look that it, in fact, wasn’t whatever.
“Fine, fine. It just wasn’t fun overall. I didn’t play very well, and I missed you guys.”
Quinn had a pout on his face when I looked up at him. I couldn’t help myself but to lean up and kiss his jaw.
“We missed you too,” I informed him. “Soph watched every single minute of every game.”
As if she could hear us mention her name in her sleep, Sophie stirred. Wiggling around and rubbing her eyes. Upon her opening her eyes fully, she looked at Quinn, then at me, and did a double take back to Quinn, letting out a little gasp.
“Daddy!” she squealed and wrapped her arms around Quinn’s neck. Quinn chuckled but pulled her closer to his chest.
“Hey sweetheart. Have a good nap?”
The massive smile on Sophie’s face and the hands that were still clutching onto Quinn’s shirt were enough indication that she was more preoccupied with her father than to answer his question.
“Daddy, are you home now?”
The grin that graced Quinn’s features wavered slightly. While Soph was asking if Quinn was home, she was really asking if he was going to stay home.
“No baby, not yet. I’m home this week, and then I’m going to see Uncle Trevor.”
She tried to mask her disappointment. After a moment, though, her features changed to one of curiosity and excitement.
“Oh. But can you ask him to bring me some candy? He always brings me candy when you see him,” she informed us.
I raised an eyebrow and side-eyed Quinn, who looked guilty.
“Uncle Trevor always brings you candy?”
“Yes!” she exclaimed. “Daddy brings it, but Uncle Trevor gives it to him to give to me.”
“Ah, I see.”
I decided to leave the subject of Trevor and Quinn conspiring to sneak our kid candy another time. Right now, though, I was going to spend the morning watching Disney movies.
#quinn hughes#quinn hughes x reader#quinn hughes blurb#nhl blurb#vancover canucks#canucks hockey#quinn hughes imagine#dad!quinn hughes
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