#// I have felt like shit since Tuesday morning

[gccdstories]

// yesterday was horrible. Started when I woke up with a headache. No (big) deal, I get them all the time. So I took my medicine and went to work.

Boy was THAT a mistake! Barely made it to lunch as it was, and I knew I had to be back to finish out the last three hours because it was just me and all. (At that point, I'm still just thinking it's a bad headache that isn't going away.)

Go home with an (extended) lunch to take a nap and immediately fall asleep. When I wake up, the head is a little better, and I think "okay, I can do three more hours."

Wrong, AGAIN!

I do make it to work, I do manage to finish the shift, but by that time, I'm exhausted, my head is still killing me, my throat is on fire and I can barely talk and every single part of my body just hurts. In that "I got hit by ten trucks" feeling.

Needless to say, I came home and immediately went to sleep. Slept all night, and well into this morning (b/c work had said I could come in late to get a bit more sleep, etc.) However I wake up feeling even worse (I wasn't sure how that was possible, but apparently it was) so I made a doctor's appointment.

They tested the usual -- flu, covid, strep throat, etc.-- all of which were negative. So... good? I guess.

I've been doing so much sleeping lately, and I did manage to eat a bit earlier which helped my head settle down.

And getting all the kitty love as neither Xaden or Sasha have left my side for the whole thing.

(It's also a good thing that I was off tomorrow anyway, so I have until Friday to get "all better" before dealing with work again.)

[paradiseprincesss]

imperfect for you | jonathan crane

i saw the moodboard @mothhball made for jonathan cranes mornings, and i was like i must write a fluffy fic about this immediately! also this is inspired by imperfect for you by ariana grande because as an ari stan, i had to write something based off her songs and this fit perfect with this song.

summary: you and jonathan spend the morning together, and you're feeling a little anxious from the stressful week you've had - but not to worry, your psychiatrist boyfriend knows exactly how to calm you down and cheer you up.

warnings: reader has a shitty week lol, minor age gap, kissing, jon spoils the reader hehehehe just fluff really

word count: 1.3k

masterlist

it was a quiet sunday morning, the sunlight beamed through the window of you and jonathan's shared apartment, and you stirred softly, waking from your sleep. you softly opened your eyes as you quietly awoke from your slumber - but you felt the absence of arms wrapped around you.

turning around, you noticed that the other side of the bed was empty, and you glanced over to the sunshine that was starting to peek through the curtains covering your big window; it was peaceful, serene.

you could hear water running in the kitchen, and some dishes being moved around as well as what sounded like utensils. with a yawn, you reached over to the bedside table and unplugged your phone, scrolling through the notifications. after a few moments of looking through your phone and replying to a few unanswered messages from your friends, you toss the phone on the pillow beside you with a quiet little huff.

the week you had with truly a week sent from hell. nothing seemed to be going right for you - nothing! true story. it all started on monday when your alarm didn't go off, and you were embarrassingly late to your lecture, which your professor wasn't too happy about. after the last half hour of the lecture you managed to catch, you had to beg your professor to extend the deadline for an assignment you had forgotten to hand in over the previous weekend, god it was humiliating.

then tuesday rolled around, and it was like the universe was punishing you. as you were driving to the gym, the check engine light in your car flicked on.

so, wednesday came along...and you didn't have a car since it was getting serviced in the shop, and jonathan was at work but you had to get groceries. you didn't want to walk to the grocery store because you'd have to carry the heavy groceries all the way back to your apartment, so you spent a ridiculous amount of money on getting your groceries delivered.

thursday and friday came and went, nothing too crazy happened until the end of the day on friday. as you were on your way home from the mechanics, with your repaired car (were not going to talk about the financial damage that did), you received a notification on your phone that your grade was updated for the late project you handed in, and the grade was...well, it wasn't the best mark you received, let's just say that.

when it came to saturday, you spent the day napping and wallowing in self pity, because after the week you had - why wouldn't you? jonathan was unfortunately working on saturday, which was unusual but he occasionally worked an extra shift on saturday if he needed to work through any extra patient files, intake forms, prescriptions and such. after he was off work, you were already curled up in bed and fast asleep, so he quietly showered and got into bed with you.

and now, finally, were here - sunday morning.

"sweetheart?" jonathan's voice snapped you out of your mental reflection of the shit week you just had, and you quickly looked up to see your boyfriend leaning against the doorframe of the bedroom.

jonathan wasn't in his usual suit and tie - no, he was in his grey sweats (don't even get me started on what those did to you), and his black t-shirt, and his glasses.

"i called out your name because i thought i heard you and i thought you had woken up, but you didn't respond. i came in here to check on you - are you okay, sweetheart?" he asks softly, looking at you with an expression that was mixed with him being both concerned but smitten at you in your sleepy state, bedhead and all.

as soon as he finished his sentence, the tears started to fall. you didn't even notice them really, but as soon as he saw you start to cry, he was rushing to sit with you on the bed, wrapping his arms around you in hopes to comfort you. jonathan placed a chaste kiss on the top of your head and spoke softly to you.

"oh, sweetheart..." he takes his hand and tilts your chin up to look at your pretty face, and uses his thumb to wipe the tears streaming down your cheeks, "what's wrong?"

you choked back a sob as he asked you that, and you looked away, embarrassed. "i've just had such a shitty week, jon. i feel like such a failure." you mumble, feeling yourself get worked up emotionally.

"hey," he says gently, softly guiding you to look at him again, "deep breaths, my love, deep breaths. you are not a failure."

you look at him with a pouty expression and teary eyes, his words always had an effect on you. "i barely passed on my last assignment, and i just- i just feel like i fucked up. it's so stupid."

"i understand, i can't imagine how stressful that must be." he softly says to you, even though he can imagine how stressful that is, he studied to be a doctor after all - but to him, your feelings were always a top priority, he always wanted you to feel validated.

"and," you say, tears overflowing again, "since the car was in the shop, i had to get the groceries delivered to the apartment and it was expensive - and don't even get me started on the car. that was a nightmare, it was expensive to fix the stupid thing."

jonathan just chuckles softly, "i told you to use my card for things like that, sweetheart. groceries, car payments, shopping, all that - i gave you my other credit card specifically so that you wouldn't have to worry about that kind of stuff." jonathan says softly, kissing the top of your head again.

"...well, i was stressed, okay? i forgot you gave it to me." you say, looking up at him innocently.

he just shook his head and laughed softly, pulling you into a kiss, and kept his arms around you, to hold you close, keep you there, be there for you.

after a moment, you pulled away to whisper softly to him. "thank you for loving me even when i'm a mess."

he looks at you lovingly, "i'll love you under any circumstance, darling, don't be silly." he says to you, brushing his thumb over your bottom lip, the little action making your heart leap.

"before i knew you, i was always fucked up - like, so anxious all the time. emotionally distressed, i'm not even kidding...but i'm not like that since i met you." you say softly to him, as he kept you in his arms.

"you're the love of my life, you know that?" he mumbles against your lips as he leans in for another kiss, which you gladly let him do.

"you make the bad stuff delightful. i love you." you say, breathlessly, between kisses.

after he heard you say that, he kept you wrapped up in his arms, the two of you tangled slightly in between the white sheets of your shared bed, the sun gently glimmering through the window. for a moment, the world was still, just the two of you - perfection in a world of imperfection.

"i made breakfast and coffee..." he says softly, and took your hand in his, "we should have it before it gets cold."

you giggle softly with a nod, and take his hand letting him lead you into the kitchen.

these were your favourite kind of mornings, the ones spent with the man you love, the ones where you could blissfully ignore the world as you were too wrapped up in jonathans warm embrance to care about anything else.

[dazed--xx]

SKZ Break up Reaction (Maknae Line)

A/N:so I’m uploading this on my phone cause my 4 year old decided to break my chromebooks screen but I wanted to get this posted so I can post the second part to both anyway if you guys have any requests my requests are open any group you want me to write I usually do lol so just let me know anyway hope you enjoy please like comment reblog I love hearing your opinions

Jisung:

“GET OUT!” You shout, as you feel Jisungs arms wrap around your waist. You can feel his tears leaking through your shirt as he begs you to hear him out. Your tears streamed down your face. “you need to leave Jisung” You growl taking his arms from around you. His head shakes in panic “No! NO! Im sorry okay?! It was a mistake it didn’t mean anything to me” he cries. His shoulders shaking rapidly. You scoff at his words “Yeah for you it was just a fucking tuesday of course it wouldn’t mean shit to you. But the fact that you didn’t even think about me or I don’t know maybe the fact that you werent even single, proves to me that everything youre saying is bullshit. You don’t just go and fuck someone and then say Oops I made a mistake. You made a fucking choice Jisung and just cause it doesn’t mean anything to you now doesn’t mean you didn’t fucking do it and proves how much I cant trust you.” You snap, gesturing to the crying boy. Grabbing the bags you packed for him, you shove them at your ex boyfriend.

“I don’t want to go” Jisung confesses, his hand wrapping around your wrist pulling you back into him; burying your face in his chest. “Please don’t make me go, I don’t want to wake up every morning without you. I don’t want to let you go. It meant nothing then and now please believe me I don’t want anyone else it was a drunken mistake and I will never stop regretting it. I can make it up to you, I-I c-can fix things please—fuck—please don’t make me go. I love you” His sobs take over his body as you begin to pull yourself away from him. You stare at him, wanting to remember every inch of his face. You caress his cheek. Your eyes locking with one another “Im sorry, but I cant trust you anymore and I cant be with someone I cant trust. I want to break up. Im sorry but if you don’t leave. I will” You confess pulling your hand away from him. “Please....” He whines “Im sorry fuck im so sorry theres nothing I could be more sorry about I don’t know how to fix it. But I don’t want to leave please don’t make me leave, I need you okay? I need YOU! No one else I don’t know how to convince you of that” You shake your head at his words “You don’t need to convince me, you never will be able to Jisung, there’s never an excuse and I wont be able to trust you ever again. It will always feel like a lie.” His eyes widen in shock.

“i-I-” You lift your hand, not wanting to hear anymore “Just go, Jisung! Im done you hurt me way to much and I don’t want to hear your lies anymore” You growl. Nodding in defeat, he picks up his bags and makes his way to the door. You hold the door open for him as he makes his way out as he turns to face you once more you can feel your resolve breaking “I will always love you” he cries as you close the door.

Felix:

NEW MESSAGE: LIXIE💕☀️

Hey baby, just wanted to tell you good morning and I miss you when can I see you again? Its been too long😞

Your heart races as you read his message. Biting your lip you contemplate replying before deciding to lock your phone and continue avoiding him. You werent sure why he even bothered anymore, you knew he was pretending, and whilst he didn’t know you had learned the truth about him, you felt stupid every time you thought about seeing him. You were torn between the Felix you had gotten to know a bubbly sweet and kindhearted person that would give up their last for anyone in need, and the one that, apparently, likes to make bets with his friends about how long it would take for you to sleep with him. Its been a few days since you had been told the truth by Minho’s girlfriend, and ever since you had avoided Felix. You couldn’t help but feel anxious and idiotic anytime you thought about being near him, apparently he had won the bet, you did sleep with him fairly quickly considering you guys have been going out for only a few months and have been actively having sex since about your third date; and the idea that right after he went and reported his win to the boys made you feel dirty, gross, and used.

Your phone vibrating in your hand pulls you from your thoughts. Staring at the screen youre met with a photo of your smiling boyfriend. Pressing the decline button, you toss your phone on the bed lifting yourself to your feet. You stare around your room, pictures of you and Felix laugh at you as you grab the stuffed bear Felix had won for you on your second date. With a newfound resolve you toss the bear on the ground. Your body acting on its own accord as you begin throwing every symbol and memory of your relationship in a large destructive pile on the ground. Sobs rack through your chest, nausea building in your stomach. You trusted him, you allowed him to knock your walls down and he lied, pretended and faked his way through everything. With determination in your heart you stomp your way over to your bed grabbing your phone opening your messages with him.

To: LIXIE💕☀️

Please stop calling me stop texting me just leave me alone you won your stupid bet just leave me alone we’re done.

Your palms were sweating as your phone began vibrating once more. You stare at the photo of Felix, your jaw clenches as hot tears run down your face. You watch as the photo disappears a missed call notification coming in before the photo pops up once more. You sit in place as a plethora of calls continue to come in as well as messages all unseen. With a shaky breathe you turn your phone off, opting to take a shower you trudge your way to the bathroom. Your movements halt at the rapid knocks on your front door. “Babe! Please—fuck—open the door!” Felix’s deep voice pleads. Your hand smacks over your mouth, as you hear your doorknob rattling ��Y/N! Open up please” he cries. “Let me explain!” The knocks continue in quick succession. “P-please! I-I c-can’t lo-lose y-yo-you, n-not like t-this please!” His voice is desperate, you could tell he was crying. “I’m sorry” the door begins to shake. You could tell he was trying to ram the door open. “I’m sorry! Please talk to me, we can’t be over we can’t Im an idiot but you mean so much to me don’t break up with me I’m sorry! I’ll explain I’ll tell you everything please” your sobs unable to be hidden anymore “Y/N?! Are you crying? Please—fuck—don’t cry please I’m sorry please open the door please! I need to see you. I need you to listen please open up!” He pleaded. You stared at the door as your heart pounded on your sternum as Felix pounded on your door. You apologized silently as you sat on the ground your arm wrapped around your waist as you held your hand over your mouth; tears steadily streaming down your face not being able to bring yourself to open the door.

Seungmin:

You stared blankly at the mahogany table, avoiding Seungmins bored stare. “Why did you ask me to meet you here if you weren’t going to say anything?” He questions confusion etched on his features You sat in shock at his words, you weren’t sure why you were so surprised at the cold stoic tone he used. It had always been the same with him anyway always leaving you to feel small under his judging gaze. You questioned the status of your relationship often due to the lack of affection on either part. You felt more like a close friend rather than his girlfriend or even someone he was dating, and whilst you two had never defined your relationship, you did assume from the fact that he had specifically told you that he had considered the time you two spent together as dates. You stared at your hands as your fingers continued to play with themselves in your lap. “I’m sorry…” you murmur, you hear him hum in response “it’s fine everyone has bad days” you shake your head in response “n-no…I’m sorry but I don’t think we should see each other anymore” your voice is almost a whisper but the widening of Seungmin’s eyes has you shocked. “C-Can I ask why? I thought things were going well…” he questions his hand reaching for yours sadness flashes across his features as you shift yourself further away from him “we’re more friends than anything don’t you think” you mumble disappointedly. “Friends?” He scoffs like the term was beneath him. “I’d like to think we are more than friends” he states calmly.

You wrap your arms around your waist “honestly can you name a single time we’ve done anything that could signify that we’re more than friends” you snap. Seungmin leans back in his seat, taking a sip of his coffee. “We go out on dates…umm I talk to you all the time…” he trails as he contemplates more answers only to come up with nothing and letting out a sigh. “It’s okay…you aren’t attracted to me Seungminie, not the way I am to you and I think you should find a girl you actually like” you state sadly as you lift yourself from your seat. “Goodbye…” you mumble as you make you’re way out of the café. Seungmin sat there in shock, a tear running down his cheek as you make your exit. He willed himself to say something, anything to get you to stay. He watched in horror as you made your way out of the door. His heart shattering in his chest as he wills you to turn around and just see him, see how he’s falling apart at your departure. He’s begged for every moment with you and in his idiocy you were wisped away, he felt lost what could he do?

Jeongin:

“You’re really wearing that?!” The disgust oozing out in his tone. You look down at your lilac skin tight dress and white thigh highs before nodding with confusion etched on your features a pout in your lips. “I-is there something wrong with what Im wearing?” You prod your eyebrow raising in offense. Jeongin scoffs, crossing his arms over his chest. You stood in your place, biting your lip in frustration “I mean you look really…..interesting.” He grits. You could feel the uncomfortable stares. You knew what he meant by interesting, reflexively you tug on the hem of your dress bringing it lower on your legs. “Don’t listen to him you look great!” Nayeon smiled as she rubbed your wrist comfortingly. You nod dejected, your eyes not leaving the ground. “I-I’m going to get something to drink” you state rapidly as you rush over to the kitchen. You stare down at your dress, you felt stupid and thanked god you had brought a hoodie. Taking a deep breath you grab a red solo cup pouring a small bit of vodka and adding pineapple juice before mixing the drink. You stare into the concoction, as used to Jeongins temperament and the harshness of his tone you are, you contemplate as to why you had even entered this torturous relationship.

You couldn’t think of many times when Jeongin would speak to you without insulting you in some shape or form. From your hair being the wrong way to you just being too annoying for his taste that day there was always something you did wrong. You thought today would be different, you thought for once he’d actually acknowledge you the way he used too when you first began. Your heart completely shattered considering it was your second anniversary. Your relationship was fantastic up until just a few months ago and now it feels like Jeongin would rather drop dead before even looking at you anymore. You don’t know why you had bothered anymore it obviously wasn’t working. You’ve done everything you could to try to save your relationship tonight being your final attempt and as much as you wanted to give the rest of the night a chance; he couldn’t even acknowledge your anniversary all day and then to greet you like that at a party you didn’t even want to be at. You weren’t sure if you could continue this, you missed your loving, sweet boyfriend. You didn’t know who this Jeongin was. You sighed as you take a sip from your drink. The mixture of alcohol to juice lacking so you grab the vodka bottle once more.

“Sure get drunk so I have to take care of you tonight” you hear from behind you, you roll your eyes. “What? I’m literally just making my first drink” you scoff before turning and shoving past your boyfriend his hand wrapping around your arm “oh and thanks for embarrassing me tonight by the way” he spits. An embarrassing heat fills your cheeks “how did I embarrass you?” You growl a fire burning in your eyes. “You’re kidding right?” His lips are formed in a tight line, you press your chest against his in defiance “No! How did I fucking embarrass you Jeongin?”

“So dressing like a slut to a party where you know your boyfriend and his friends are going to be isn’t a fucking problem? It’s not embarrassing?” He snaps, the glare in his eyes challenging you. The rage filling your stomach you toss your drink in his face. “I can’t believe you! You fucking prick” you shout, Jeongins eyes grow wide at your action. He stood there shocked, covered in your drink, his hands reaching for you quickly with a call of your name. You put your arms up preventing him from touching you. “No! I’m done! I’m so fucking done with you Jeongin! For months I’ve put up with your shitty attitude all because I loved you and you obviously don’t feel the fucking same anymore! You made me miserable and I still loved you! Don’t call me don’t text me just leave me alone. Happy anniversary Jeongin, I’m giving you the best gift I could…you’re single congratulations” your resolve completely breaking as tears stream down your face. You can see the panic in Jeongins eyes, his mouth sits agape in shock. With a scoff you turn to make your exit. “W-wait! Where are you going?” He calls, his voice is shaky. “Babe?!” You can hear him following after you “wait! Y/N!” His voice is shaky as you make your way out the front door, you knew if you turned back just one look at his face would break you. You had to keep going; you picked up your pace as the cold air kissed your skin.

Your car was only down the street a bit you just had to make it there and you were home free. Your heart raced as your legs moved rapidly. You felt arms wrapped around your waist pulling you back into a strong frame. The familiar cologne fills your nostrils, you could feel his shaking figure. “Don’t go, I’m sorry” he pleads. You sigh “please let me go Jeongin” pulling his arms from around you not turning to look at him. “I’m sorry please don’t go im an idiot I didn’t mean to forget but I don’t think it’s something you should break up with me over” he scoffs slight annoyance in his tone. A scowl forms on your face as you whip around to look him in his eyes “you know what?! Yeah! You ARE indeed a fucking idiot! If you think I’m breaking up with you over this bullshit ass anniversary then you’re wrong! You treat me like shit and a burden and I’m just done you obviously don’t love me anymore and as much as I do love you I deserve better just…please leave me alone…” tears stream down your face at a rapid pace, your heart shattering at every word. Your eyes drifting to the floor as your bottom lip finds it’s way between your teeth. Your eyes never once lifting to meet his as you turn away from him and make your way to your car. You don’t see Jeongin standing there in horror as you ultimately walk away from him. You don’t hear the sound of his heart shattering in his chest as you don’t look back at him. His jaw clenched as tears stream down his cheeks willing himself to not chase after you because like you said, you did deserve better

[the-guilty-writer]

Work The Case

Request from @doctorsteeb: This may be too sensitive a topic but just an idea— Hotch!daughter taking out a school shooter?

Aaron Hotchner x daughter!reader

Summary: A normal Tuesday takes a turn when you come face to face with your father's work.

A/N: Not going to lie I wasn't going to write this because I felt like the idea was too sensitive but then I remembered that I'm the queen of writing too sensitive things in real life so I may as well do that here too (within limits of course. I still have ethics). So here it is!

CW: school shooting, fatal gun shot, talks of foyet, talks of dead mothers, talks of car crashes, talks of drunk driving, talks of divorce, Jackson Pollok slander

---

The morning started out like any other Tuesday: you got up and ready for the day before having breakfast with your dad and brother- oatmeal and orange juice- then your dad drove you and Jack to school. Jack always got dropped off first at the elementary school, and you at the high school. The ride between the two was short, but it was always long enough for a small, private conversation between you and your father.

“You okay?” he asked you. 

Ugh. Profilers.

“I’m…” You thought about saying ‘fine,’ but you knew he wouldn’t take that as an answer. You sighed. “The teacher let the class vote on what chapter we would cover in class next, so we started on abnormal criminal psychology yesterday.”

“Oh.” You’d never heard your dad sound so uncertain.

“It’s an extra chapter. Since it’s not listed in the curriculum we aren’t being tested on the material. The teacher told me I could spend that period in the library if it was… too much,” you finished.

You dad pulled in front of the school, leaning over to kiss you on the forehead goodbye. “Whatever you need, sweetheart.”

“Thanks,” you told him. 

“Try to have a good day,” he said before you shut the car door.

You nodded. “I’ll try.”

---

You took your teacher’s offer and went to the library instead of their classroom. The space was large, but mostly empty of people- there was just the librarian behind her desk and a few students scattered amongst the tables. You took a seat and pulled out your homework, trying not to think about what they were learning back in the classroom. You’d honestly overheard enough phone calls that whatever they were learning about you already knew. There was a buzz in your pocket, which automatically made you freeze. You kept your phone on do not disturb through the school day. The only reason your phone would buzz would be if your dad was texting you… and if your dad was texting you it was an emergency.

You pulled your phone out and you were right- it was a text from your dad. Three words: Work the case.

Shit. That was code for you and Jack to hide- to hide somewhere that you wouldn’t be found unless you wanted to be. You looked around the library, but the area was like an open plain. You shoved your work in your backpack and hurried towards the doors-

BOOM!

A gunshot.

Boom! Boom! Boom!

People began to scream. Through the glass windows of the library you could see students running, but it wasn’t because they were late to class. The lockdown alarm sounded and you scrambled under one of the tables, hoping it would be enough cover.

There was a stillness and a silence for a minute and you hoped that it was over, but gunshots rang out again- this time they were louder than they had been before. Someone was getting closer.

Your heart was pounding in your chest, making it feel as though your entire body was thumping to its too-fast rhythm. You wanted to cry, but you didn’t shed any tears. You wondered if this was what it had been like for Jack when Foyet had killed your mother and then tried to kill your father. As part of WISTEC, you had been sent away to a private boarding school with an alias while Jack and your mom were sent elsewhere. In the end, sending you away had saved your life, but now you were wondering if you were going to die soon anyway.

That was, until the library doors burst open. From your view under the table you could only see old shoes and baggy jeans but you heard the shots that were fired into the air.

“Get up! All of you!” It was a male voice.

You, along with the six other students in the library that had all dropped to the floor, looked around at one another- who would make the decision to stand up or stay down? Who would make that call?

More shots were fired. “I said get up!”

You thought about your dad- what would he do? And so you were the one to make the call, the first student to crawl out slowly from under the table and rise, your hands held up to show that you were no threat. The rest of the students followed your lead. This was your team now- if one of them died, it was on you.

You looked at the shooter and you knew who he was- Timmy Rogers. He’d been in some of your classes in middle school and high school. He had always been quiet- the kind of kid who did well in class but never answered any questions. The person who put their share into a group project and didn’t complain about having to pick up the slack if someone else bailed. He was nice enough of a person that you wouldn’t have expected him to be holding a firearm in the middle of your school, but then again most unsubs could keep themselves hidden for years- that much you knew.

“Line up against the wall. Now!” he shouted.

You walked calmly to the wall while some of the other students scampered. One girl was crying. Another boy’s fists were twisted with fear. The librarian was on her knees, pleading with Timmy. “You’re a good boy. You always have been. Your mother-”

“Don’t talk about my mother! Don’t talk about me! You don’t know me!”

“Yes I do,” the librarian was crying. “I do know you and your mom wouldn’t have wanted-”

Timmy pulled the trigger and she was gone. He marched over and grabbed the girl who was crying, dragging her out in front for the rest of you to see. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry!” She fell to her knees. “Please, I’m sorry-”

You thought quickly about everything you knew about Timmy. He wasn’t an athlete by any means but he joined the wrestling team anyway, he liked art and his project last year was based on his parent’s divorce, his father was a marine, and his mom…

Oh. His mom had died in a car crash last week. She was hit by a drunk driver.

“You never cared about me!” he yelled. “Nobody cares about me. Nobody cared about her-”

“I did.” You didn’t know where the words came from- they were solid and bold and half a lie, but they made Timmy let go of the girl.

“And who are you?” He pointed the gun in your direction. You wanted to scream, but you didn’t.

“I’m (Y/N) Hotchner. W-we had art class together last year.” You hoped your stumble wasn’t too obvious.

“Yeah, and why does that matter? Why should I let you live? Why should I let any of you live?” He waved the gun around in the air, making some of the students shriek, but somehow you stayed calm even though you wanted to explode. 

“Y-your mom died in a car crash last week. But it wasn’t her fault. It was the other person who was driving drunk and it wasn’t fair that they got to live and she had to die,” you said.

“Why do you care?” He spat.

You reached deep down… really deep. “My mom died too. She was murdered by a serial killer. She deserved so much better, just like your mom did.”

Timmy paused, the gun in his hand was shaking but still pointed at you. From your view, you could see that through the glass there were officers moving into the school. No. Not just officers- they were wearing FBI vests. Help was almost there, you just had to stall.

“My parents got divorced too,” you said. “Your final project last year really spoke to me- your dad was away all the time and your mom got tired of it, even though they still loved each other.” That was a total lie- the guy was about as talented as Pollok, but you had to find something. “My parents were the same way.”

Now Timmy was crying. You could see behind him that agents were moving towards the library, but you were too focused on stalling Timmy that you weren’t focused on their faces.

“And I was at a boarding school when she died so I was alone- all alone, just like you, Timmy. My mom died and nobody was there to comfort me. My dad wasn’t with me, just like your dad isn’t here right now.”

He was so distracted by your words that he didn’t even notice that the library doors had opened behind him allowing Agent Morgan, Dr. Reid, and your dad to come in unnoticed.

“He- he didn’t even come for her funeral-” Timmy’s hand was getting weaker. He was crying harder. “I-I can’t reach him-”

“I know. I couldn’t reach my dad either since I was still in WISTEC. They couldn’t tell me anything about him until I got home. It’s not fair. I know it’s not fair. I care that it’s not fair.”

Timmy dropped the gun, crumbling to the ground in a fit of tears. Agent Morgan tackled him, pulling his hands behind his back while Dr. Reid disabled the firearm. Your dad ran straight to you, gripping you in a bone crushing hug and you sobbed into his chest.

He pulled you in tighter, stroking a hand down your hair. “It’s over, sweetheart,” he whispered. “I’ve got you. It’s over.”

“I worked the case, dad,” you managed to get out between your sobs. “I worked the case.”

[phthalomushroom]

The Family (4)

last next

pairings: modern!mafia!aemondxreader

summary: You had left Kings Landing and the Targaryen family four years ago. Now back and living with your old roommate you realize that the life you had thought you escaped had seemingly been waiting for you. But will the family really let you go? Will the people you left behind forgive you? Can you forget the past and look to the future?

warnings: language, mentions of trauma, stalking?

word count: 1.4K

note: I thought I had the rest of this planned out but my brain keeps finding new ways to change it on me. Next chapter though, we got some tea coming! Hope you enjoy!

You had felt like you were going to throw up.

Once you had left the party you had headed home and downed at least half a bottle of tequila. To say the hangover this morning was a difficult one was an understatement. You pulled yourself out of bed, grabbed your phone that you had discarded somewhere on the floor in your drunken haze and looked through the messages from Baela and Rhaena who were asking where you went.

It seems your drunk self was responsible enough to text back something that resembled that you had made it home.

You moved across the room, barely missing stepping on your shoes as you headed to the kitchen. You needed something to eat that you wouldn’t regurgitate right away. .

“There’s nothing to eat.”

You turned to see Baela lounging on the couch, a rag shielding her eyes from the light.

“We need to go to the grocery store.”

“No shit.” She sat up taking the rag from her face, she looked like she also got hit by a bus. “Glad you drank my tequila, if it was here when I got back I probably wouldn’t be alive right now.”

You frowned, joining her on the couch. “I take it you didn’t enjoy the party either.”

“I take it the talk with Aemond didn’t go well.”

“He was drunk and an asshole.”

She tilted her head. “Aemond doesn’t drink… he is an asshole though.”

“But he was never an asshole to me.”

She smirked. “Then I guess you’ve officially joined ‘Aemond’s an asshole club,’ I’ll get you one of our t-shirts-”

“Baela I’m being serious.”

“So am I, we meet every Tuesday to talk about the new assholey thing he’s done.”

You rolled your eyes, a headache starting to form. “I really thought that there might’ve been something left, but he’s changed since the last time I saw him.”

She shrugged. “He’s gone through a lot. Aegon’s death, Otto being locked up, and now you coming back. There’s been a lot of change happening.”

You rolled your eyes. “So because of all that he’s marrying Alys? I mean he couldn’t have picked someone with a little bit of, I don’t know, humanity?”

Baela chuckled. “I know this won’t be easy but things will get better, I promise. Besides, you’ve got your first encounter down which means you never have to talk to him again.”

“We live in the same city, I doubt I will never talk to him again.”

“Yeah but this time you don’t have to be so civil.”

You smirked, pride flaring in your chest a bit. “I was civil, wasn't I? 

Baela wrapped her arm around your shoulder. “I thought you were going to burn the place down, but you didn’t.”

You let out a long breath. “I need food and I need something to take my mind off all this shit.”

Baela smiled. “Shopping?”

You nodded in agreement. “Shopping.”

********

You and Baela had managed to stomach a little bit of breakfast at a cafe before making your way to the East side of the city. You decided on going to a well known store that was big for its unique couture.

You scavenged the racks trying to find some good purchases that matched your style. Baela had managed to find a few and had left you to go try them on in the fitting rooms. You had offered to go with her in case she wanted some feedback but had declined on the premise of not wanting to hog the fitting room.

You were currently looking through some sweaters when you heard an all too familiar voice.

“Well, look who's back in town.”

You stiffened, casting a glance over your shoulder to see Daemon Targaryen. He had his hands in his pockets and a sly smirk on his face.

“Daemon.” Was all you said before turning yourself back to the rack. You pushed yourself closer to the clothes, concealing your hand going into your bag to pull out your mace. You made sure to put it in your pocket so that it was easily accessible. 

“A cold greeting is not meant for family, sweetheart.” He moved around the rack so that he was in your line of sight. 

“We aren’t family.”

He sighed. “I have to say I was disappointed when I heard about the failed engagement. Aemy was so excited, nearly killed him to see you go.”

You swallowed the lump in your throat. “I thought the Targaryens no longer accepted you in the family, after your little coup with Rhaenyra.”

“A misunderstanding, Rhaenyra and I have been welcomed back. My lovely nephew saw to that.”

“Bullshit.”

“You’ve missed a lot since you left.”He leaned against the rack. “You shouldn’t have come back, (Y/N).”

You straightened. “I’m not involved in whatever shit you have going on. So leave me alone.”

He frowned. “I’m just reminding you that despite your disagreements with Aemond you are still seen as part of this family.”

You glared at him. “Aemond never told me anything about the family business. He never wanted me involved.”

“I was talking more in the literal sense.” He held his hands up. “I like you, (Y/N), which is why you should leave town.”

You raised a brow. “Are you threatening me?”

“No, I would never threaten you, I’m just giving you some advice. There are still bad people wandering around and I would hate for something bad to happen like last time.”

You crossed your arms. “That sure seems like a threat, Daemon.”

“If you don’t want to take my word for it, why don’t you ask the man who's been watching you since you and Baela left the cafe.”

You looked to where he gestured with his head to see the man in question. He wore a red baseball cap with a plain t-shirt and jeans and was staring very intently at a pair of tailored pants. 

He looked up briefly, catching your eye. He noted that you and Daemon were staring at him. He set the pants down and wandered towards the front of the store out of sight. 

“Who was that?” 

Daemon shrugged. “Ghosts of Aemond’s it seems, but I guess yours too since you shot their boss.”

You stared at him, unflinching. “That wasn’t me.”

He grinned, pointing a finger at you. “You are a good liar, I’ll give you that.”

Your hand drifted to your pocket with the pepper spray.

“Don’t worry too much,” Daemon said, taking a step back. “Aemonds gave his instructions in regards to you.”

“And what instructions are those?”

“Don’t let you die.”

You huffed a laugh, shaking your head in disbelief. “So he’ll assign a protection detail but he’ll treat me like a mistress.”

He took a step back. “I’ll be watching you, (y/n).”

“Creepy.”

He turned away, heading towards the front of the shop no doubt in hunt of the man in the red baseball cap.

“Was that Daemon?”

You jumped at Baela’s voice, nearly knocking down the rack of clothes you had spent too much time at. 

“Yeah,” you answered. “Just coming by to tell me he’s watching me.”

Baela shook her head “The family guard dog is back at it again.”

“Tell me about it.”

Baela had seemed to find some clothes she wanted to buy so you two headed to the registers. 

“Can I ask you something?” you asked before Baela could check out.

“Yeah?”

“Daemon mentioned that he was part of the family again. Is that true?”

“Yeah, I don’t know the specifics but about a year after you left Aemond had announced that he and Rhaenyra were no longer enemies of the family.”

You shook your head. “You’re kidding me, even after they killed Aegon?” 

Baela shrugged. “Jace said Aemond never does anything without a plan and I guess he needed them back in the family.”

You shook your head, watching as Baela put her clothes on the counter. It didn’t make sense, Aemond’s own brother being poisoned at the hands of those two. The Aemond you knew would never have sided with the people who murdered his big brother. Sure, Aegon and him had their differences and Aegon got on Aemond’s every nerve but he would never disrespect his brother like that.

And now you were being followed by some mystery guy and Daemon.

What the hell happened since you were gone?

Tag List: @dixie-elocin @liannafae @toodlesxcuddles @watercolorskyy @zenka69 @bellaisasleep @namelesslosers @tssf-imagines

[thefallennightmare]

HC Tuesday request

Reader gets pregnant from a one night stand with Noah months later sees Noah again after a show. Upset she didn’t tell him he realizes he never gave her his number and feels like a fool after confronting her.

@missduffsblog @hayleylatour @sleepyomens @loeytuan98 @artificialbreezy @marvelousmal @bngurngheart @lma1986 @dsireland86 @wild-child-7747 @calleyx13 @illmakeyousaywow @jaded-and-hollow-souls @exitwoundsx @shayzillaaaa @badomensls @princesspeach-00 @blueskylinesx @shadowseve @collective-heartbreak @klutzy-kay24 @sorrowsofsilence @sweetlittlekitsune @shilohrosechicken @itsafullmoon @toospooktocute @niicoleleigh @thatchickwiththecamera @hoe-for-daddywise @whenthesummerdies @cookiesupplier @thisbicc @sammyjoeee @pathion @flowery-mess @tashka @Karenfranco @its-inourblood @amelia-acero @xxkittenkissesxx @cncohshit @xserena-13 @collidewiththesavannah @meekahy

Noah stood in disbelief as he watched you with intent eyes from across the venue.

The last time he saw you was six months ago after a night filled with sex and early morning goodbyes from you before he woke.

You met him at a party and the tension between you two was thick; in the best way.

You mentioned how you needed to get over an ex and Noah offered to help.

There wasn't an ounce of alcohol involved. You both wanted this.

But when you woke up from your post sex sleep, you realized that your one night together was supposed to be just that. So you slipped out of his room without a single goodbye.

Now, six months later, you stood in the back of the venue after Bad Omens finished their set. You came with a friend as support, you never listing to the band. But the moment your eyes landed on Noah on stage, your hand immediately went to your bump.

The same bump that Noah couldn't take his eyes off of.

He'd been helping tear down the set when his eyes landed on you, waiting for your friend to return from the merch booth and bathroom.

The crowd had dwindled away, leaving a few stragglers; you included.

After that night, you got pregnant. You'd just started birth control a few weeks before that night so you thought you were protected.

Wrong.

The moment you found out you were pregnant, you knew you wanted to keep it. You also wanted to tell Noah since he was the father but you didn't know anything about him besides his name.

The second you saw him on stage tonight, it felt like everything fell away and you couldn't catch your breath.

You thought you had gone undetected and would be able to slip away.

WRONG.

"Y/N?" Noah called your name, jumping down from the stage.

Your eyes widened as he came towards you and you let out a shaky breath.

"H-hi." your hands rested against your bump.

Noah blinked rapidly, still not being able to take his eyes away from you.

It was silent for a long moment until finally, not being bale to take it any longer, you spoke.

"It's yours."

He snapped his head up, eyes narrowing in on yours. "Why didn't you tell me?! Were you ever going to?"

The slight edge to his voice made your brows furrow. "How would I have? All I know is your first name. You didn't give me your number."

The tension and anger resting on his shoulders dissipated as he let out a long breath, realizing his mistake.

"Shit," he ran a hand through his long hair before resting both hands now on his hips. "You left that morning before I even could."

You shrugged. "We both agreed for a one night thing."

Noah took a tentative step towards you, gauging on how you would react.

You had to admit, you missed him terribly. The one night you shared together was enough to keep you wanting him more. His essence stained your skin, making it hard to forget him.

Now that you were carrying his child, you knew that he would always be apart of you.

Noah also couldn't stop thinking about you. The girl that changed his life from that one night. He regretted not giving you his number before you left.

"You do realize now that I'm not letting you leave here alone, right? I'm not letting you do anything alone now. You're carrying my child, Y/N."

You swallowed the nerves forming low in your gut. "I don't want to make you be in my life, in our child's life, if you don't want that. Bad Omens is just getting started."

Noah snorted. "I don't care about that. Bad Omens isn't going anywhere. I care about you and our baby. So, will you let me be apart of its life?"

You immediately nodded, already deciding that if you ever ran into Noah again and he wanted to be apart of the baby's life, you wouldn't stop him. Its his right.

"First things first though," you started.

"Anything," Noah rushed out.

"Give me your number first," you gave him a teasing wink.

He reached into his pocket to fish out his phone. "Something I should have done that night."

[munsons-melody]

sick day

summary: eddie cuts class to come help you get over your cold

pairing: eddie munson x female!reader

cw: none + established relationship

word count: 1.5 k

a/n: i thought this was a v cute concept

masterslist

i do not consent to having any of my works republished, translated, or posted to any other site except here. if you see my works anywhere but tumblr, it has been republished without my knowledge, consent, or permission.

—

you were undeniably, undoubtedly sick.

what started out as a sniffle from the day before turned into a full-blown-out nasty cold. you could only blame the weather for the illness.

it was a gloomy tuesday morning, and upon hearing your groggy voice and horrific cough in the morning, your mother sent you straight back to bed and called the school to tell them you weren't coming in.

you ended up falling back asleep for a handful of hours, trying to avoid the torture of being awake with a headache, a sore throat, and uncontrollable coughing. however you were soon woken up by your phone ringing.

"hello?" you sleepily croaked out, your voice hoarse from the amount of coughing you had succumbed to

"hey y/n, why aren't you in class?" you heard eddie ask, the sounds of people talking behind him. he was using the school phone to call you.

"i'm dying," you told him, sniffling a little bit. "what?" he asked in confusion

"i got the worst cold ever and i'm dying" you said again, feeling a cough coming on

"oh shit, how are you feeling?" he asked and you rolled your eyes

"actually I'm doing great thanks," you responded sarcastically

"sorry, that was a stupid question" he said. you heard the bell ring in the background and some shuffling noises

"i gotta go babe but i love you, feel better" he told you, making you smile. "i love you too" you said as you heard a click and the dial tone ring out.

you coughed a couple more times, causing your throat to burn with pain. you groggily pushed yourself up from your laying position and sat on the edge of your bed

you caught a glimpse of yourself in the mirror and your looks had mirrored how you felt; like shit

your nose was bright pink from the countless times you had to blow your nose, cheeks were flushed, hair was in the messiest braid ever, your dark circles engulfed your eyes from the lack of sleep you got the previous night. you were wearing a giant shirt with garfield on it, some baggy pj pants, and you knew if anyone were to see how you did now, they would be disgusted

you went and used the bathroom, then went to the kitchen to search for something to eat that wouldn't make you more nauseous but failed to do so 

the house was quiet, the only thing you could really hear was the birds chirping and cars passing outside. you stood there, enjoying the silence, sipping on your water

you headed back to your room in attempts to fall asleep again, but after tossing and turning for a good 10 minutes, you sat up with a huff

just as you resigned yourself to the rest of the day filled with solitude and sniffles, a knock echoed through the house. startled, you slowly made your way to the front door, your stuffy nose adding an extra layer of annoyance to your condition.

you looked through the peephole to see eddie standing there with a large brown bag in hand. he looked so good wearing his black sabbath t shirt and ripped black jeans, his white reeboks giving a pop of white.

you slowly opened the door, only leaving a little bit of it open to avoid him from fully seeing you. it’s not like you always wore tons of makeup, just enough to boost your confidence, and eddie had seen you completely without makeup only a handful of times, but you didn’t want him to see the horrific sight which was you with the worst cold

"eddie, what are you doing here?" you asked with a raspy voice

eddie flashed his trademark grin, holding up the bag in his hand. "since you're sick, i thought i could be of some assistance. i brought you some homemade chicken soup. wayne swears on it" he said sweetly

"thank you baby that's so sweet," you said with a smile, before furrowing your brows

“wait where did you get homemade chicken soup?” you asked and he blinked

“oh well technically it’s campbells… but it works just the same, i swear, scouts honor” he smiled, lifting three fingers

he started to walk in but you shut the door more

"i don't want to get you sick" you told him and he shook his head 

"i have the immune system of an ostrich!" he declared and you let out a giggle which turned into a nasty cough 

"oh baby," he said sympathetically, standing up the next stair to the doorway 

"c'mon let me take care of you please, just until your parents get home?" he asked with the sweetest tone

"eds i have to be honest, i look absolutely disgusting right now, i don't want you seeing me like this" your voice faded into a whisper

"y/n, i can promise you that nothing you do or have will make me less attracted to you, i love you in every conceivable way now can i please just come in and heat your soup up for you?” he begged, giving you puppy dog eyes

you slowly opened the door, revealing your sick state to eddie and he smiled, walking in to your house and immediately giving you a kiss on the forehead

“jesus you’re burning up” he said taken aback and you rolled your eyes

“no shit sherlock” you huffed as he walked into your kitchen

“well i guess the first symptom of this cold is hate” he joked with a smile and you shook your head at him, shutting the door

“so how come you were able to come here in the middle of the school day?” you questioned, leaning against the kitchen counter as he poured your soup from the can into a pot

“i just went to the nurses and told them i was feeling sick and apparently there’s something going around the school so they believed me and sent me home” eddie shrugged, turning up the heat on the stove

“so that’s what i got” you said, crossing your arms

“maybe” eddie said, eyes staying on the soup to make sure it didn’t boil over

“wait what did you mean you have the immune system of an ostrich?” you asked, realizing what he said earlier

“yeah they have one of the best immune systems, it’s a fact” he said nonchalantly and you laughed

“and how do you know what?” you asked as he turned off the stove

“well when i was growing up, wayne had the day shift and after school i’d go to the library to read before he’d come and pick me up, i learned it from some nature book” eddie smiled, and handed you the steaming hot bowl of soup

“thank you” you said, your stomach suddenly making countless noises and rumbling, since you hadn’t ate anything all day

you sat at your kitchen table and ate your soup, and eddie munched on a couple saltines you had from your cupboard

“yeah and luckily i had a test i didn’t study for at all for 7th period so i get more time to study” eddie said and you nodded, not really caring in that moment if you secretly knew you had to help him study because you were so hungry, the soup vanishing in front of you

“mhm” you mutter out, finishing the rest of the soup and chugging some water

“feel better?” eddie asked and you nodded. honestly you did. now that your stomach had shut up and power of chicken noddle soup was finally coming to fruition, you felt the tiredness loom back over you

you yawned and stretched your arms out and eddie could see the sudden drop in the little bit of energy you had earlier

“now back to bed young lady” he said in a not so stern voice and you listened, getting up with your bowl in hand and placing it in the sink

eddie followed you into your room and shut the door. you put some of the tissues that were discarded on the floor and put them in the trash, and then instantly cuddled into your sheets, pulling them around you

eddie took off his jacket and shoes, walking over to the other side of the bed

“ed’s what are you doing? i told you i don’t want you to get sick” you said, and he just smiled, taking off his pants and then crawling into the empty space next to you

“i don’t care sweetheart, all i care about is you feeling better and i know that you’ll sleep better with me here, it’s a fact” he said, pulling you in close

“oh really? did you learn that in your nature book as well?” you asked with a slight laugh and he kissed your head

“no, i just know you that well” he said, letting you lean your head against him

you felt the sleepiness wash over you like a wave on a beach, and you just let your eyes close, feeling eddie’s chest move against your back

you were a little jealous he could breathe through his nose without the annoyance of it being stuffy but you didn’t care because he was right, you do sleep better with him near

fin.

[strstab]

𝐬𝐭𝐮𝐟𝐟𝐲 𝐬𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐝𝐚𝐲𝐬 - 𝐣.𝐦

summary ; kie’s fever got to you so jj helps you feel better

pairing ; jjaprilbank x fem!reader

notes ; sick readerrr, bath w jj, besitosssss, body lovin, cuddling, our beloved sock, & tinkerbell 🧚

a/n ; so this was actually meant to be out earlier this morning but then got caught up in a family function.. so sorry abt that. ALSO. i was going to post something tuesday but instead of posting it i accidentally deleted it… so shopping w the girls probably won’t happen 😭

after a sleep over at kie’s last weekend, you’ve felt yourself feeling more like shit by the day. on wednesday you were coughing up a storm and now you couldn’t feel your throat or stop sneezing.

you called off of work right after another restless night. jj was at john b’s and kie was the reason you were sick so you couldn’t hang out with her. you were on your third tinkerbell movie with a pile of tissues next to you.

you tried sleeping the sickness away during the day but even with the large amount drowsiness that was killing you slowly, you kept waking up with the same sore throat that wouldn’t seem to disappear. it had been like that since you were feeling symptoms so now you’ve been sleeping like 4 hours a night. or day.

you blew your nose into the tissue and then threw it into the pile. you felt soft fur rub against your neck which meant your cat had joined you in bed.

“sock, please help me. don’t you have powers to make your dear old mom feel better?” you whined just for your cat to give you a blank stare. you huffed and sat up, stretching your arms. you hadn’t gone up to do anything since the second movie started.

you dragged your feet all the way to the kitchen, grabbing a banana off the counter and peeling it open. you took a big bite as you searched the fridge for something else to munch on. there wasn’t much in it. the last person who did groceries was jj. the only things he usually brought home were beer, hot pockets, cookies, an 8th of weed (which he definitely picked it up from his dealer on aisle 10), and cat food. all of which only lasted a week in your house.

you found a cup of strawberry yogurt and decided to diy your brunch. you grabbed a bowl and poured the yogurt into it, then cutting up the banana you got from the counter and placing the bits into the bowl. ‘what a chef i am’ you thought.

you ate your ‘meal’ over the counter while scrolling through instagram. you were watching an interview from a netflix show when you felt strong arms wrap themselves around your waist, pulling you into their hold. you squealed and looked above to see blonde hair making it’s way to your neck.

wet kisses were placed all over your soft spot. “baby, i’m sickk” you whined pulling away from him.

“i know. and?” he pulled you back, this time holding you tighter.

“i don’t wanna get you sick,” you sniffle and he shrugs. guess getting sick wasn’t a big deal for him. but to be honest, he’s always had a strong immune system.

you were conversing about each other’s day, yours sounding quite boring. he was ranting about how john b wouldn’t let him redecorate the cats ass and how pope smacked the shit out of him while waxing his board.

your responses were short. your throat hurt too much to be talking a lot, so did your stomach to be honest. everything ached. you hopped up from your seat on top of the counter and went to get a bottle of pills. jj watched as you took two pills in your hand and swallowed them with a small cup of water. “what hurts mama?”

“more like what doesn’t hurt.” you sarcastically answered. he stared at you for a minute before smiling and picking you up bridal style. “jj what the hell?!”

your feet were kicking air and your arms wrapped themselves around jj’s shoulders, holding on for dear life. his hand was supporting your back as he made his way to your bedroom.

he placed a kiss on your lips and sat you on the edge of the bed. “did you get any sleep last night?” he asked rubbing the eye bags that were forming below.

you shook your head as he peeped the pile of tissues that sat next to your laptop. “stay right here i’ll be back okay?”

“i mean.. where else would i go” you grumbled as he ran off to the bathroom.

you sat there on your phone, continuously sniffling while he did his thing in the bathroom. quickly after, he ran back out to you and picked you up swiftly, dropping your phone on your bed.

you laughed out loud (lol😜😜😜) as he brought you to the sink in your candle lit bathroom. he stripped you of your clothes, eyes taking in your body that was perfect in every way.

you felt your face heat up when you noticed him, arms quickly trying to cover yourself. “stop staring.”

he chuckled and kissed your lips softly. “just appreciating what’s mine, princess,” he murmured.

you let out a sound of annoyance. “c’mon baby, you know you’re prefect.” he picked you up and placed you in the tub. your muscles immediately relaxed as the heated water touched your skin.

“too hot? cold?”

“‘s perfect, j.” you smiled at his thoughtfulness. he really didn’t have to do this, but it made you happy knowing he cared enough to do so.

everything about the room right now was just calming.

you inhaled the steam and aroma from the cookie scented candle that followed it. as jj massaged your back with soap you let out a hum of pleasure. he peppered kisses on your shoulder and upper back while you relaxed in the water. “mmm, i could fall asleep right now,”

“yeah? seeing how tired you’ve been it seems like you could fall asleep anywhere.”

after your bath you guys cuddled up in bed. his request obv. you protested because you didn’t wanna get him sick but he still didn’t care. he went on a rant while drying you up about how all he wanted to do was be close to you.

so now, you laid head on his chest as his fingers were tangled in your hair. there was still a pinch of guilt in you for having him this close knowing you could get him sick but you couldn’t deny the fact that this felt amazing.

tinkerbell played on the tv instead of the laptop but you weren’t even watching either way. your eyes were half lidded as sleep tried taking you over. you tried fighting it, wanting to appreciate the time you were spending with your boyfriend, but it was winning by a lot.

even though all you were doing was watching a movie in comforting silence, it still meant something to you. so, you wanted to be up for it.

he moved his hand to the side of your thigh and rubbed his thumb against it. “you’re falling asleep on me, love.”

there was no response from you but your eyes were still half open. he patted your side and you perked up. “sorry, what’d you say?”

you felt jj’s chest abruptly shake as he giggled above so you got up fully to look at him. “what’s funny?”

“nothing. just how cute you look half asleep.” he smiled and pushed your head back down to his chest. “jus get rest babe. you need it.”

you buried your face in his hoodie and dozed off while his thumb caressed you softly. maybe all you need was your boyfriend with you to get the rest of a lifetime.

yeah yeahhhh ooohhhhaahahshiegsksba

hey yall. hope u enjoyed thatttt. so if you read my a/n you’d know this was meant to be up earlier this day. (april 1st) but i got caught up in a family reunion kinda thing so yeah..

also i had shopping with the girls (cleo, kie and sarah) in my drafts but i accidentally deleted it bc my fingers tend to touch before reading what it’s going to touch… so yeah that’s gone. -(edit) i tried editing my notes and ALMOST deleted this post too…

y’all know my requests are always open so feel free to request!! or just talk to meee. entertain me guys i’ve been bored

but anyways… i’m cuddling with my cat so i’ll catch you guys laterrrr.

[nolita-fairytale]

make my heart surrender | carmen berzatto x fem!reader | chapter seven: tuesday, again

pairing: carmen berzatto x fem!reader

warnings: lots of swearing, tooth-rotting fluff, use of she/her pronouns, friends to lovers, references to sex, no use of y/n, second person pov, happy ending

word count: 3.8k

summary: you left your heart in chicago, so the only logical conclusion you've come to, is that you have to go back.

a/n: ok this author's note may be a long one. WOW. can i just say 'wow' holy shit?! i wrote this story in a week because inspiration struck and i couldn't get these characters, or this story, out of my freaking head. i am beyond grateful to any and all that read, liked, reblogged, or commented. thank you for being cheerleaders for me, carmy, and this story. i am truly so in love with these characters it hurts, so thank you for encouraging me to continue this love affair.

that being said, i am not done with these two at all. i have a few companion pieces i'm working on right now: a playlist, a headcanon, and maybe even a oneshot (or a few but who's counting)? thank you again for reading. please enjoy.

read: part six | masterlist

Tuesday, again. 

It’s Tuesday again and your time in Chicago has come to an end. Carmy had stayed the night with you at your airbnb. But morning came, and he left early to start his morning at the restaurant. Truthfully, he just hadn’t wanted to watch you pack – couldn’t get out of there fast enough when you’d opened your suitcase. You noticed how much it bothered him, letting him know that you’d stop by the restaurant before heading to the airport. 

And that was that. You’d gone your separate ways before, and you’d go your separate ways again – just for a little bit. And it wouldn't be like last the last time. It’s bittersweet – leaving today – but you keep reminding yourself of the conversation you’d had yesterday about the future of your relationship. You wanted to be with him, and Carmy wanted to be with you. The rest, you’d figure out as you go.

Your boyfriend.

It felt strange – even if he’d basically already been your unofficial platonic boyfriend back in New York. Adding a title to it was a whole other ball game. 

New. 

Never did you think, as you were preparing for this trip, that you’d return back home with Carmy as yours. You thought maybe you’d talk about what happened -- smooth things over -- but that would be that, and you’d go back to being friends. After this week, you were starting to believe you were never supposed to be just friends. 

You had a feeling none of your friends would be surprised when you shared the news – not in the least. 

You finish packing up your things, double checking that you haven’t left anything behind before heading to the restaurant. It’s about thirty minutes to lunch service, and since they’re not open just yet, you enter through the back door one last time for what feels like could be a while. 

And there it is again: that bittersweet feeling. 

“Chef!” Tina says, her eyes lighting up as she sees you. “You headin’ out today?”

“Hey, T,” you reply. “Yeah, I’m heading to the airport after this. Just wanted to stop by before I go.”

“Well you better come back soon,” she says almost as if it’s a threat, and you laugh in response. 

“Of course.”

“There she is!” Marcus hollers across the kitchen, as soon as he spots you. “Damn. What am I gonna do with you?”

“Uh… keep doin’ what you’re doing and kill it?” you reply, eliciting a proud smile from him. 

“Seriously. This last week… I’ve learned so much from you. Thank you,” he says, his gratitude evident in his voice. 

“No, thank you, Marcus,” you answer, genuinely. “I haven’t felt this inspired in… well a while. I want to be kept up on all your new flavor pairings. Just remember. I’m only a text away.”

“Yes, chef,” he replies, moving in to give you a hug. 

He wraps his arms around you and you hug him back. Boy, is it bittersweet. How, in one week, have you gotten so attached?

“Hey! I want in!” another voice chimes in, as you and Marcus’ hug comes to an end. 

“Syd!”

You smile, greeting Sydney with a hug – a hello goodbye kind of hug.

“You better come visit me in New York,” you insist. You’re not sure how long you’ll be there, but you say it anyways, just in case it’s a while. 

You watch as Sydney and Marcus exchange glaces. 

“What?”

“Nothin’, chef,” Marcus answers, almost too quickly. 

Sydney shrugs, “I don’t know. Just uh, wondering how long you’ll be there for.” She’s prodding and she knows it. You decide not to ask what she means by it.

“Well, if it ends up being longer… than I expect, you better come up,” you clarify. 

“Okay, yes. I definitely will,” Sydney agrees with a nod, before pulling you in for one more hug. 

“Hey, cousin said you’re headin’ out so Ebra’s made you a sandwich for the trip, babe. We’ll see ya around soon,” Richie greets, interrupting your moment with Sydney and Marcus. 

Richie, whose affection seems to catch you off guard, slings an arm around you, handing you the sandwich that Ebraheim has so kindly wrapped up for you. 

“Cousin!” Richie shouts, in search of Carmy. 

“Jesus Christ, it’s ten in the morning. Are we already starting the yelling this early or-?” Carmy calls back to him. He bursts through the doors from where he’s been fixing something up in the front of house dining area. He stops as soon as he sees you. 

“Hey.”

“Hey yourself,” you reply, taking in the image of his unruly curls, white t-shirt, and blue apron you've gotten so used to over the last few days.

It’s almost as if everyone else but Richie tries to make themselves as busy as possible – to give you two a chance to say goodbye. You can hear Marcus and Sydney making themselves scarce as Angel and Manny turn the sink water back on. 

“I just uh-, wanted to stop by before heading to the airport,” you say, unsure of just how much everyone else knows about you and Carmy’s current relationship. “Say goodbye to everyone.”

It’s clear that they know something’s up, but you still have your reservations about kissing him in front of everyone. 

“What do you mean?" Richie asks, glaring at Carmy. "This asshat’s not takin’ you to the airport?”

Richies practically shouting for the entire kitchen to hear, causing you and Carmy both to take a breath. You exchange a ‘here we go again’ look as Richie continues on.

“What kind of-, I swear to god, cousin-.”

“Richie!” you hear Tina snap, looking up from her prep station. “Shut the fuck up and give them a minute, you old bitch.”

Richie throws his hands up, before bowing out of the conversation, leaving just you and Carmy in the middle of the walkway. You can hear Richie and Tina bickering in hushed tones over by the stove, earning a quiet laugh from you. 

Your heart aches in the best way as you commit this moment to memory.

God, you're going to miss this. 

“You wanna..?” Carmy asks, nodding his head in the direction of the back door. 

You nod in agreement, letting him lead you back out to the alley. 

And now it’s really just the two of you, and while it’s not the most romantic of backgrounds, you’re going to work with what you’ve got. Carmy seems nervous as he fidgets with the ties of his apron. 

“You uh, you sure you don’t want me to take you to the airport?” Carmy asks hesitantly, thinking back to Richie’s earlier comment. 

“Yeah, I’m sure,” you answer with confidence. “Besides, I’d never want to take you away from these guys. You open in a few anyway.”

He smiles, accepting your answer. It’s something he loves about you: that you get it. You understand that sometimes the food’s gotta come first. 

You didn’t know why it felt so weird – so challenging, awkward, strange – to say goodbye to him. Because it wasn’t really a goodbye. And it also was and you’re not sure if you have a name for this feeling yet. 

“Carm?”

“Yeah?”

Instead of answering with words, you just reach over, grabbing that beautiful head of hair of his, and you kiss him. He tastes of the cigarette he smoked on his walk to The Bear and the Altoid mint he had later in his office in anticipation of your arrival. You want to memorize each and every part of this: the way he smells, the way he tastes, the way his hands feel on you. He pulls you in, wrapping his arms around you as you continue your passionate make out – your passionate goodbye kiss – in the alleyway behind the restaurant. 

Your kisses begin to slow down, and before you know it, you’re pulling away from him. 

“Text me when you land, okay?” he asks, a hopeful look in his eyes. 

You nod, “Yes. Yeah. I will.”

And you want to turn to go, but you can’t yet, so you add, “Thanks for inviting me out here.”

He laughs dryly, leaving one more kiss on your lips for the road.

“Thanks for coming to see me. I’ll see you soon.”

A few Tuesdays later

It takes exactly five minutes of being back in New York to realize that Chicago is where you need to be. You don’t regret asking for time to think, but you almost felt silly to worry that you wouldn’t come to this conclusion. You have to go back: to the restaurant, to purpose, to Carmy.

You let yourself think through every little detail, and in each scenario, you know that Chicago is where you’re supposed to be. It had, afterall, been everything you’d felt you were missing. 

Your heart was there, and for once, you were going to let yourself follow it. 

You’d just needed some time to let your head and your heart catch up – get on the same page – and wrapping things up in New York gave you that time to get clear that this was your next step. 

Not that you mind letting the man you adored and some very hot sex cloud your judgment. 

It takes a few weeks, but you and Carmy text every day, even on the busy days. Some days you text a lot, and some it’s just a few exchanges: a ‘good morning’ text, a ‘thinking of you,’ and a ‘goodnight’ text when he’s wrapped up at the restaurant. But it doesn’t bother you. You know what it’s like. Other days, you’re able to sneak in a phone call… maybe even a FaceTime… and if you’re really lucky, you get to talk for hours before either of you realize it’s two in the morning and you should’ve been asleep a long time ago.

People are always coming and going in New York City. It’s why it’s not hard to find a sublet for your apartment, and once you’ve set the ball in motion, it feels impossible to backtrack. After you find the subletter, you tell the restaurant that you’re not coming back and they’re not happy with your decision. You tell them you’re moving to Chicago and only a few people left on staff understand why. Your friends who know you and Carmy aren’t surprised – just as you expected – and by the end of your happy hour catch up, they’re halfway to booking you a ticket to Chicago for that night.

Your parents on the other hand are less than ecstatic. They have more questions, more hesitations, and they want to make sure you’re thinking things through. You tell them that you have, that you’ve combed through every possible scenario, and each time you come to the conclusion that this is what you have to do. 

But they’re happy you’re happy. They say they’ve never seen you like this and you agree. You’ve never felt this way before either. 

You’ve got to stay just a little longer – make sure you can get all your shit sold or moved. Because you’re a responsible adult even when you hate being a responsible adult. It takes a few more days to get an available U-Haul, and you’re all packed up. You’d called Carmy earlier to tell him, but he’s not answering his phone. Sydney hadn’t been in touch either, so you figured they were slammed at the restaurant.

Holy shit. This is really happening, you think to yourself. 

With one foot over the ledge already, you’re off. 

Wednesday, again.

You’ve set him up so well that if he blows it, you’re gonna be pissed. All he has to do is be his normal, annoying, crass self. 

C’mon, Richie, you think to yourself, pleading with the gods that this goes the way you hope it will. 

As you’d told him your plan, he seemed more than happy to oblige. Just rile him up a little just to make the surprise that much better. Richie wouldn’t miss out on an opportunity like that, would he? You can hear shouting coming from the kitchen, and can tell your plan has been set in motion.

“Richie, what the fuck are you talking about? They said what? Who?” Carmy asks, frustratedly.

Yesterday’s dinner service was a shitshow. It’d been slower for lunch this afternoon, and he berates himself for being naive enough to think that he could catch his breath today. The last thing he needed after yesterday was some food critic coming into his restaurant to pick apart all of their hard work. 

“I don’t know, cousin,” Richie shouts back defensively, as if he has no other volume level than that one. “I don’t know if she’s a fuckin’ food critic or not but she sounded like one. Somethin’ about an overseasoned juice or whatever the fuck!” “Jus,” Carmy corrects. “It’s pronounced, ‘zjhoo,’ fucko. Not ‘juice.’ How many times do I have to tell you?”

“Yeah, yeah, fuck if I care,” Richie mutters. “All I’m saying is you should go out there and give the pompous jack hole a piece of your mind.”

“Alright, if it’s going to get you off my back, I’ll do it!” Carmy snaps, having had enough of Richie’s shouting. “Just tell me where she’s sitting so I know who to talk to.”

“At the bar. Christ,” Richie sighs, removing himself from the conversation entirely as he steps away from Carmy. 

Carmy sighs in frustration. He removes his apron before hanging it on one of the wall hooks, then makes his way through the swinging doors that lead to the dining area. It’s still slow, even after the small lunch peak they’d just experienced, and there’s only one woman sitting at the bar. 

You.

It’s then the Carmy realizes he’s been set up. This was all just an act to get him out here – out to the front of house. His breath catches in his throat as he sees you sitting at the bar of his restaurant. You lock eyes with him, and he’s suddenly feeling much more nervous than he previously was. 

“Surprise,” is all you manage to get out, half apologetically.

He makes his way to the open side of the bar, stepping around it so that he can stand on the same side as you. 

“Hey,” he says, even though he’s practically speechless. 

“So uh…” he stammers nervously. Out of all the things he could say to you all he can think of is, “What’s this I hear about an overseasoned jus?” 

You shrug, a devious smile on your face and a sense of mischief in your eyes, “Well I had to come up with something that’d get your attention.”

“It worked. Consider it gotten,” he nods, a blush running all the way down his neck. “Wh-, What’re you doing here?”

He doesn't mean for it to sound so abrupt, but what he really wants to ask is: what does this mean?

You wait, taking half of a beat. 

“I… heard you might be hiring another pastry chef to… you know… help out around here,” you reply, nodding towards the kitchen. Carmy has no idea how you’re playing it so cool, and you’re not sure how you are either. 

“I-, I’d have to talk to Marcus first,” he stammers, matter of factly. His head is spinning, and he can’t breathe, in a good way this time. He can’t believe you’re here and half expects to wake up and realize he’s only dreaming. 

“Of course,” you nod in agreement. 

You pause again, wondering if he’s surprised in a bad way.

“I uh… I called,” you offer up, almost as an apology. 

“We’ve been slammed,” Carmy replies, taking a step closer to you. “And I passed the fuck out last night after service. I’m sorry.”

“No, it’s okay! I-, I figured…” you chuckle, beginning to explain yourself. “I just wanted you to know that-, I mean the rental company had a last minute opening and it was gonna take a few more weeks to get another a U-Haul if I didn’t-. I didn’t intend on making this like… you know this big surprise or anything…”

“... but then I saw Richie first and uh, well, I couldn’t help fucking with you a little bit.”

He laughs, shaking his head at you, “So this was a set up?”

“Oh yeah.”

You stand up, out of the bar chair, taking a step towards him. You look around, noticing that the restaurant is mostly empty, save for a couple in a booth over by the window. 

“You never answered my question. About you. Being here,” Carmy starts, redirecting the conversation back to you. He doesn’t want to get his hopes up – needs you to say you’re here for good before he lets himself feel all of this excitement that’s bubbling up in his body.

“Right. I just came here to tell you that uh, I found someone to take over my lease in New York,” you start, seeing Carmy’s eyes light up. 

God, you’ve missed the way he looks at you. 

“And the urban garden I've been volunteering with… they got me connected with a spot here. Keep my head out of my ass,” you continue, eliciting another laugh from Carmy at your crude comment. 

“Natalie’s-, she and Pete are gonna help find a place too.”

You take another step towards him. 

“You talked to Natalie?” he asks, surprised. 

And he, towards you. 

You shrug, playfully teasing him, “She picks up her phone.”

“Right,” Carmy says shyly. 

If he had picked up his phone you would’ve told him that you were coming and he’s not sure what he would have liked more: knowing ahead of time, or this surprise. Fuck it. He doesn’t care how it happened. He’s just glad he gets to have you.

“I… had a lot of time to think on the drive and-,” you tell him.

“Uh oh,” he interjects, playfully. “That’s never good.”

You shake your head with a laugh, “Will you just shut up and let me get through this?”

He concedes to you, a soft smile on his face as he waits for what you’re going to say next, as you continue your whole boombox over head, throwing stones at the window love confession thing.

“I was thinking that maybe I’d stick around for a while… get a cat or something to keep me company on the days we just can’t stand each other,” you say. 

It’s not what he’s expecting to hear but he understands what you’re really saying. You want to be here. With him. You want to plant roots. 

With him. 

“A cat?” he questions.

“Well, yeah neither of us have time for a dog. We’re both gonna be too busy with the restaurant,” you answer, continuing this scenario you’ve got in your head.

“We?” 

“We.”

Another step. 

He waits for you to say more, but you both understand that anything else would be overcomplicating it. And suddenly you’re standing so close to each other that you’re grateful that there’s only two other people in this restaurant. 

“Does this mean-?” he begins to ask, trailing off toward the end. He looks down at the floor, wondering why he feels so shy. 

“That I packed all my shit up to move here? Yeah,” you reply, confirming his assumptions about where this was going. “When I got back, it took me about five minutes to realize that what I’ve been looking for-, I had it. For a week. Here.”

He looks back up from the floor, to you, his blue eyes staring into your soul. 

You take a pause once more, mustering up all the courage in your body to say what you need to say next. 

“I want to be here, Car. With you. If the offer still stands.” 

He looks at you, you speechless, because he can’t believe this is real. 

But this is real. You’re not dreaming, he reminds himself.

He opens his mouth to say something and all that comes out is, “You hungry?” And you’re shaking your head and laughing, hopelessly in love with the man standing mere inches away from you who can barely get out the words he needs to tell you how he feels. 

“Because I’m sure you’ve had a long trip and I can-,” he continues to ramble, his face inches away from yours.

“God, I fuckin’ love you,” you blurt out, impulsively closing the gap between the two of you. You press your lips to his, giving him the most passionate kiss you’ve perhaps given anyone, and he kisses you back.

Because he loves you too. 

And he never wants to let you go ever again. 

Your kiss is suddenly interrupted by the sounds of voices, cheers, and a few claps, splitting the two of you apart. You both turn to find the entire staff of The Bear, crowded around the door that leads to the kitchen, and peeking out. Tina’s got a proud smile on her face, while Richie is most certainly the one clapping. Marcus is saying an ‘oh shit’ to Sydney while she’s practically squealing at the two of you. 

You and Carmy exchange a look. He looks away, his face turning redder by the second, as you laugh. 

“I called it! What did I say? Did I say three weeks? I think I fuckin' said three weeks." Richie cries out in celebration, his fist pumping into the air in triumph, earning a groan of disappointment from Gary.

"Pay up, fuckos!"

“Wait, what?” Carmy asks, his brows knitted together in confusion. 

Sydney rolls her eyes, beginning to pull a few ten dollar bills out of her apron as Tina mutters an insult in Spanish

“You guys were-,” you start, searching the faces of your future colleagues.

“Betting on how long it would take for you to come back? Yes, chef. Yes we were,” Marcus answers, cheekily. “I said two weeks. Syd put her money on a month, but Richie said three.”

“I just meant that it’s not that easy to move! Not that you wouldn’t come back,” Sydney adds, justifying her guesstimate.

“I said she’d be back in a week,” Tina chimes in.  

“It was clear to us you’d be back. We just didn’t know when,” Gary informs, leaning up against the bar. 

“Well, that’s news to me,” you laugh, shooting Carmy a look that says ‘did you know about this?’

He shakes his head ‘no.’

“You two are also idiots. That was also clear to all of us,” Tina points out, earning a laugh from you and Sydney. 

“Never even cleared your work station, chef,” Marcus adds, nodding back towards the kitchen. “You can uh-, come join us when you’re ready.”

You watch as Marcus disappears, back into the kitchen, hearing the sound or Richie’s more than jovial chants that he was right. Tina’s yelling at him in Spanish and Sydney’s telling Richie to shut the fuck up. 

You’ve missed this. 

“I uh… gotta get back to work,” Carmy says, pulling you out of your head. The blush permeating his face has spread all the way down to his neck and he's not sure how he's supposed to continue the day like this. “Gotta wrap up lunch and prep for dinner.” But he gets to do it with you, so he's gonna figure it the fuck out.

He turns to you, holding out his hand. 

“You comin’ or what?”

You’re beaming as you take his hand, your heart pounding out of your chest. It feels like a beginning of something you don't have the words for, and you're very much okay with that. You're ready to throw caution to the wind and fearlessly dive in -- to take a leap -- as long as you get to do it with him too.

“I thought you’d never ask.”

the end.

taglist: @lazypeachsoul @bookwormvoyageuse @allthefandomstogether @gaysludge @sobshoney @harrysmatcha

[writing-whump]

Sensory overload

☕️-anon wished to see how Hector and Arnie were doing in the meantime, so here we go. A bit of Arnie and Hector plus Olive and some emeto.

Arnie found Hector glaring at his phone on the couch at 7 pm.

"I don't think you can make it bend to your will that way," Arnie said as he rubbed at his eyes.

Since Sunday he had trouble sleeping for some reason, waking up at 5 or 6 am although he was never a morning person. He would turn in bed for two hours, trying to get himself back to sleep, but to no avail. It left him tired and grumpy, cause he wanted to sleep but couldn't.

To compensate, he took frequent naps during the day, like the one he just woke up from. Probably worsening the problem by not being tired enough to sleep through the next morning again.

Hector grumbled something, leaning back with his coffee only for his eyes to return to the phone screen 10 seconds later.

"Who's not answering?"

Hector scoffed, like the name wasn't worth saying out loud. Arnie kept quiet and watched him until his older brother finally caved. "Isaiah."

"Oh? It's so rare for you to message him." Arnie sat down behind the table, still disoriented from sleep.

"Yeah. And just when I do he ignores me. Isn't it weird?"

"I told you he planned some special anniversary thing with Seline on Saturday. That's why we weren't meeting. And then she likely stayed over so he had his hands full over the weekend."

"It's Tuesday," Hector protested.

"It's summer break," Arnie reminded. "More busy with free time with his pack and stuff."

"That's why I..." Hector turned his head away to scowl at the twilight behind the window.

"What was that?" Arnie gave up on the table and went to sit down next to Hector instead, grabbing his untouched coffee from his hand. "Look, you have been super busy during the holidays. You work 25 hours from 24 each day or train or claim some new territories you don't need. Isaiah can't be waiting around for you to make time for him."

Arnie didn't mean himself at all when he said it. He felt more than a little neglected by Hector's constant 'work' excuses. It was his last holiday before starting university and Hector was nowhere to be found.

Hector growled at the cup being taken out of his hand but said nothing. "That's why I wanted...never mind."

Arnie took a sip and grimaced at the taste. No sugar. "Wanted what?"

Hector bared his teeth at no one in particular. "I thought we could plan a trip, okay?! Just the three of us. I'm fed up with the city, so I thought we could do mountain climbing or some shit in nature. And when I suggest it, he doesn't respond. Asshole."

Arnie sighed. "That's really nice, Hex. I'm sure he will like it once he sees it." The younger blond leaned back on the couch. "You know how Isaiah is with the phone detox thing. He likes to take breaks from screens and being available."

"It's the girl," Hector spit out angrily. "Just when we get him back he has to have a girlfriend and a new pack to piss me off."

Arnie rolled his eyes. "We are not losing him to Seline, come on."

"Women always destroy families. Especially brothers. And wolves."

"I'm sorry, how many experiences do you have with that?" Arnie said with a snort.

"Oh, not you too!" Hector crossed his arms on his chest, sliding farther away from him on the couch.

Arnie chuckled. Delaney and Hector's other closest wolves have been bringing it up from time to time now. That Hector should be looking for a partner soon, ideally a witch to cement his position as branch leader.

Everyone knew wolves couldn't rule alone. Stability came from relationships, from functioning compatibility. A leader should have a witch to lead with, to offer to the pack, to bring them all together.

Hector, who had zero interest in dating since Arnie could remember, saw this part as particularly annoying.

"So. You gonna be in this splendid mood for the rest of the evening or we putting on something on Netflix?" Arnie yawned, putting the coffee away.

Hector got up, pacing the living room. "Can't sit still. I'll go for a run."

"You gonna leave me here alone?" Arnie pouted. Free evening and Hector was gonna spend it away again?

"You can join me," Hector said with a knowing smirk.

Arnie groaned. Hector knew he was not very keen on exercise. Being around a superhuman you could never hope to keep up and who would never let you win even knowing this was rather demotivating.

"I thought so. Enjoy wasting your life on useless Netflix shit, I'm leaving."

Arnie huffed and slid down on the sofa into a more comfortable position. Agitated Hector needed the exercise to keep his shadow calm. It was for the best.

...........

If you looked for a piece of quite in a crowded city such as Vienna, school grounds were the safest bet during summer.

It was tiring for wolves to be this surrounded by humans, noise and scenes all the time. Hector felt like the proximity of the buildings got only smaller, squeezing the air out of him.

He needed open space. Nature. Something green with a free view of the sky and the horizon.

Hector ended up back at the university campus at the bench near the ditch he found Matthew passed out not that long ago.

Of course he wanted the campus for himself now. He spend so much of his time there because of the uni that it felt like a base to him.

It was surprisingly lively on the way to the Messe, lights and people coming and going like fireflies drawn to light of the giant exhibition building. None went through the dark space around the bench though, for which Hector was grateful.

Not until his name suddenly echoed through the whole park.

Olive pushed her way through the crowd, which was quite an achievement since she was so small. "Hector! I didn't expect to see you here!"

Hector shrugged. "Just passing by." It always fascinated him how happy Olive seemed whenever she saw him. Her whole face lit up, her smoky gray eyes so big like a doe's.

"Oh." She stopped at the bunch, a cute little pout to her mouth. "So you are not coming to the expo?" When he looked perplexed, she continued, "Illusion and light play exhibition! It's just here for a few weeks."

Ah. That explained the liveliness.

Olive shuffled her feet. She wore a white button-up that hugged her slightly chubby figure, an orange-red necktie, short black hair hidden under a red beanie, and bright red shoes. Hector internally shook his head. Artists had the weirdest tastes.

"Would you...like to come too? I have been there several times, I know the best parts!"

She got excited so easily about the smallest things. If an exhibition or a nice sunset or a collection of crayons could make him so happy...then again, why not? He was not managing to stop thinking about Isaiah's unread messages and he could use a break from thoughts about his duties and goals before they started turning in circles too much.

"Whatever." He got up to his feet, which made Olive almost bounce on her feet.

"You are going to love it!" She actually grabbed his arm, dragging him forward.

Hector blinked at the contact. He wasn't sure how he felt about her being so comfortable touching him. On some level, he suspected she didn't realize he was a wolf or who he was in that world, but he couldn't bring himself to tell her. It was amusing how relaxed she was, how she treated him with such friendliness. Was that normal with girls around guys?

Besides, it made him feel all smug he managed to throw people off his scent as a wolf. Managing this degree of control to not be recognized by the energy and danger wolves emitted or the thickness and reactiveness of their shadows was a point of pride for civilized wolves.

As they got inside and he automatically paid the ridiculously small tickets for them both, he wondered if there wasn't something else. Hector liked who he was. He was proud of who he was, and he never pretended to be anything else.

He was the Executioner's younger brother. He was Vincent Wolfson's son. He was the pack leader's nephew and chosen branch leader in a city as big as Vienna, in the heart of Western and Eastern Europe. Destined to achieve something big, to take over one day. That was his aim—he wasn't secretive about it.

But with Olive he was...just a guy. A stuck-up economy student who could be too blunt at times, but that she, for some reason, found amusing.

The exhibition's theme was the universe. There were seperate rooms projecting different light plays, from infinite space to exploding suns, kinetic installations, Milky ways changing colours, labyrinths of mirrors and light sculuptures.

Olive kept dragging him around, showing him her favorite pieces and projections, flooding him with background information and cool facts he didn't have the vocabulary to understand.

His eyes were beginning to hurt. The constant onslaught of lights that were actually everything but regular, the flashing patterns and ever-changing chaotic rooms...there were no points of reference. And worse, there were so many people—smashed together in an even tighter space, like a city, but smaller.

Hector felt a dull, throbbing headache building behind his temples. It reminded him of the subway, but worse. The lights were too much, the noise was too much. The rooms were spinning and turning, blending together and then spitting him out in confusing directions.

His stomach felt unsettled, waves of queasiness coming and going. Sweat was forming on his upper lip and at the back of his neck.

"O-Olive..." he blinked and screwed his eyes shut, stopping where he was, reaching with his hand in search of something solid. A wall or a door, something that wasn't moving.

"Hector? Hey, wait, what's wrong?"

"G-..." he gulped, his stomach feeling impossibly heavy. Heat went to his face and chest, intensifying the nausea. He gagged, slapping his hand against his mouth. "Get me out-"

He couldn't see in the confusion, the hall was too dark to contrast the effect of the rooms.

"Okay, just a second." A small hand closed around his. Hector squeezed it, maybe too tightly in his disorientation, mouth overflowing with saliva. Damn, he needed to sit down. The claustrophobic feeling was back and he gagged again, splash of acid against his throat.

Her small hand and trace of scent led the way and he let her, the only familiar focus point in the chaos of people and lights hurting his eyes. He crashed against the door on the way and cursed, but the pain of something solid against his side was a relief.

"Just a couple of steps," Olive said, tugging at his arm. "Almost there, I promise."

Hector unglued himself from the door with great difficulty, one more door coming up, when finally, finally he was hit with a wall of fresh air.

He gulped down on the semi-clean night wind greedily, panting to breathe against the nauseating sensation. Almost winning the round, if his stomach didn't cramp that moment and he groaned.

"Okay, okay, let's sit you down, okay?" Both of Olive's hands were wrapped around his arm, using all her weight and strength to steer him to the side of the entrance.

He couldn't tell where the bench was or where they were going. The ground was tilting again, all wrong and his knees buckled, sending him to the ground. Olive didn't let go, going down with him.

"I guess not. Okay, let's stay here, it's fine-"

Hector gagged, the world going deaf for a second and then retched as his dinner came out with a splash against the yellowed grass. At least it wasn't the pavement, that would have splattered more.

Olive was still under his arm, pressed into his side. Her hand snaked around his shoulders, tapping gently. "Feel better?" Her eyes were so wide again, glittering with concern.

"Sorry," he rasped. His body heaved with another retch but he fought it down. "Don't know what-"

"The lights. I'm sorry, I didn't know. The movement and lights can be overwhelming for more sensitive people-"

Hector scoffed, rocking up and down in attempt to catch his bearings. Why was he always throwing up around this girl? "I'm not sensitive."

"I didn't mean it like that," she said sharply, indignant now. "I mean, prone to motion sickness or with senses like shadow wolves. You can't say they are sensitive, can you? But there is even a warning at the entrance that it isn't good for them, cause there is a higher risk of sensory overload."

"Ah. That makes sense, then." He let himself fall back to sit on the ground properly, spreading his hands out. The world was still spinning, but it was slowing down a little.

Olive let go of him, kneeling at his side. "Huh?"

"I'm a shadow wolf too, Olive." Hector focused his eyes on her, wary of her reaction. "You really had no idea."

Her mouth made a little o, looking even more winded than he was. "Oh wow."

Hector cleared his throat. "So what? Scared of me now?" He shifted away. Normally, he enjoyed people being wary of him, of respecting his power, but the idea of Olive being scared of him wasn't appealing at all.

Maybe that was also one of the reasons he was in no hurry to correct her.

A flush crept up her face. "No, I'm not! I'm..."

"I wasn't hiding it, you know?"

"Right. The turf talk, and the people always behind your back. And how sick you felt at the subway...I just didn't...I never spoke to a wolf before. What does that- what does that mean now?" She covered her mouth with both hands. "Does that mean I was breaking all the rules of interaction? I'm sorry, I didn't know-"

Hector chuckled dryly, which turned into a cough and into another small gag. "Damn it."

Olive lifted herself up on her knees, gripping his shoulder. "You still feeling icky?"

Icky? What kind of word was that? He felt comforted by her unconscious touch though. On some level, he still didn't feel like a wolf to her. "Nah, almost good." He closed his eyes for a second, breathing through the sudden heat wave, letting out a loud burp against his hand before letting it fall to his side again.

"What does that mean for me?" Olive asked in a small voice. "You are not going to kidnap me or eat me or something, right?"

Hector had to laugh again. "No. That's not in our rules either." He looked at her hand on his biceps, realizing for the umpteenth time he didn't mind her touch as much as he should have. Not at all. Somehow she had touched herself into his shadow's graces and sense of space. "You don't have to follow any rules. Not with me. I'm too high up to mind," he reassured her.

She ducked her head, and when he tried to straighten up to catch her eye, he lost his balance and flopped right onto his back.

"Oh, so high up," she said with an involuntary giggle, leaning over him. "You okay?" Her hand climbed higher on his arm all the way to the top of his shoulder. "You are so sweaty."

"And dizzy," he admitted with a grimace. His arm shot up to grab onto her hand that was touching him. "A little warning, Olive. Wolves tend to think anything they are touching is theirs. You keep doing that," his eyes rose slowly over her arm to her body, "and I might forget how to let go."

Olive blushed even more, her round cheeks furiously red. Oh, he could get used to that expression.

Part 2

[thotofthecentury]

fuckboy!angela x reader college au

could be read as a part 2 to my last one, but isn’t required to read this

TR: dubious consent, briefly

“You haven’t said anything since you last spoke?” Mariah whispers from across the library table.

“No!” you whisper-shout back. “I’ve done everything I can to avoid her! I am out of the room when she doesn’t have class, I go to bed before she gets back-“

“God, just ask her out already,” Chanse groans into his hands at normal volume.

You and Mariah both shush him, looking around, perhaps a bit paranoid.

“Not yet!” Mariah replies at the same time you say, “Are you crazy?”

The last time you spoke to your roommate, Angela, was Tuesday. Today is Friday. Your suddenly super hot, sexy, and very flirtatious roommate.

“You can’t avoid her forever,” Chanse whispers like you didn’t know that. Like that hasn’t been on your mind since she found out you were a virgin. To face her… now that she knows…

The words ‘you can’t avoid her forever’ loom over you like a cloud. Or more like a loaded gun. It’s nighttime and you suspect Angela’s going to stay over at a girl’s dorm, being Friday night and all, but you never know.

You’ve never felt more vulnerable or practically humiliated than when she called you out for being a virgin. When she called you out for not-so-secretly masturbating while she hooked up with a girl in the next bed! But it was just a one time thing. It’s over. There’s nothing more you can do but to coexist with her.

An hour passes and you’re ready for bed. It’s 2:30 in the morning. Just because you’re a bit of a prude doesn’t mean you don’t have fun on Friday nights. If ‘have fun’ means watch reality tv for hours on end instead of doing homework. Angela’s called you lame for it, but at least you’re having fun.

You turn out the lights and lay down, getting all comfy to go to bed, knowing you won’t have to get up uber early to leave the room before Angela wakes. No way she’s waking up from whatever hangover she’s about to suffer from anytime before lunch.

You wake with a start to a soft thud on the outside of your door. Probably someone drunk stumbling to their room.

“Shit,” you hear from the hallway along with a keycard hitting the tile floor. It’s Angela’s voice.

Fuck, fuck, fuck. You look over to the clock. 3:43.

You are not letting this ruin your very peaceful slumber. You roll over and pretend you didn’t hear a thing. Surprisingly, falling back to sleep wasn’t a challenge. Must have taken her a while to figure out how to unlock the door completely wasted.

You feel your hand grab your own boob under your shirt. Your hips rock slowly into… something. The pressure between your legs grows. Your eyes open to a pitch black room. 4:17, the glowing red digital clock reads. Both of your hands are suddenly back to your sides. The wetness between your thighs is obvious. You’ve had sex dreams before, but this was different. There was no dream part. Out of nowhere, your body reacted. To something? You guess you bunched up part of your blanket in your sleep and shoved it between your legs.

There’s warmth still on your boob and when you go to touch it, you touch a hand. Your heartbeat quickens. Then you feel a body beside you, touching you, leaning against you to not fall off the twin size bed. You know who it is.

You gasp and raise yourself onto your elbows.

“What the fuck?” you whisper. You hate yourself for whispering. This is not a time to whisper.

She shushes you softly, moving her hand from your boob to your face. One finger presses over your lips.

“Don’t,” she whispers. “It’s ok.”

“What are you doing?” you say quietly, obeying her.

“I wanted to help,” she whispers into your ear before kissing your neck. Her hand goes between your legs, toying with the hem of your underwear. You never bunched together your blanket. Her hand’s been there before. How much before?

“I-I don’t-“ you start but cut yourself off with an unintentional moan as she pulls a finger up over your clothed clit.

“Wait, stop,” you try.

“I don’t think you really want me to,” she hums into your neck.

“Y-Yes I do-“ you moan again.

“Fuck, stop it,” you try to sit up, pushing her hand away with one of yours. You’re out of breath and so insanely turned on.

She places her hand on your inner thigh.

“Y/n, let me help you. I’ve seen the way you look at me,” she swipes her tongue from the base of your neck to your ear. “I’m doing this for you. It will be quick, I bet you won’t last long.” Her breath is directly on your ear, her hot, hot breath. There’s a faint smell of alcohol coming from her.

“Angela, I don’t-“ you want to say you don’t want her to but yes you do. She’s ever so slightly pulling your thigh, spreading your legs, and you clench around nothing.

“Say the word ‘no’ and I’ll go to bed,” her hand squeezes your inner thigh.

“I-“ you moan again.

“Mmm, what was that?” she teases, licking your neck again.

“God, just fucking do it,” you say. It felt like another person said it. But you know it was you because her fingers push your underwear to the side and she plunges a finger deep inside you.

You swallow, hard.

She wiggles the tip of her finger against your g-spot and you grasp her wrist. You push her in deeper.

“Angela, more,” your whispers are strained.

“How can I deny you?” she whispers back. She adds another finger and roughly pushes into you to her knuckles. She leaves her fingers there for a moment. Her fingers are larger than yours, that’s for sure. Your knees threaten to close.

All while leaving her fingers inside you, she positions herself between your thighs with her other elbow next to your head to keep herself up right.

“Does that feel good?” she asks, the streetlight reflects off her big brown eyes that now look down at you.

“M-mhmm,” you whimper.

“You’re going so good, honey,” she says as she starts to finally thrust her fingers in and out. Her wrist lines up with her pelvis so she begins using her hips as well, to drive her fingers into you. The palm of her hand digs into your clit with every thrust.

The bed begins to make the smallest thump against the wall behind it.

You’ve never felt your g-spot and clit be used at the same time and it’s making you crazy. The leans all her body weight into you creating the best pressure imaginable. Her mouth surely leaving marks along your neck.

“I think I’m-“ you try but it comes out as a moan.

“It’s ok,” Angela whispers without relenting her pace. “You can come, y/n.”

“Fuck, Angela,” your legs squeeze her waist and your hands scratch her back as you come. You grind into her, reveling in your aftershocks. Once you relax, she pulls out of you and brings her fingers to your lips. You take them into your mouth, licking between her fingers. She doesn’t break eye contact. You’ve tasted yourself before but never on someone else and you’ve obviously never had Angela’s fingers in your mouth before which is really what you’re loving about this.

Angela leans down to connect your lips, tongue darting between them. Your tongues meet and it’s like heaven. She pulls away and you’re certain you saw a string of spit in the faint streetlight.

“You kissed me,” you say softly.

She raises an eyebrow at you before flopping onto her back beside you. “Yeah, I also just fucked you, keep up,” she laughs.

You turn over to look at her silhouette. “Yes, but you didn’t while you were…”

“Fucking you,” she provides nonchalantly.

“Yeah,” you sigh and you are so glad there’s no light on. Your cheeks are undoubtedly bright red.

“Be grateful because I usually don’t kiss a girl until the third hookup,” she adds. Ah, there’s your roommate Angela.

You close your eyes, meditating for a moment instead of lecturing her on treating women with respect.

“Hey, so that was really hot and I’m really turned on now,” Angela says. “I don’t expect you to do the same for me, but would you mind if I took care of it? I can go to my bed-“

“Don’t go,” you cut her off.

She smiles a stupid half smile. “You can, y-you should,” you stutter. “I want you to do that… here… I want to watch.”

[cheeeeseburger]

Dream girl Part 7

Next part

Sidney Crosby x Reader

Masterlist

A/N: What is this, another part on the same night, with a third one on the way? I'm on fireeeeee. Anyway, English is not my first language, enjoy!

Quickly, you and Sidney fell into a routine. He made you breakfast in the morning; you packed him snacks with a little note. The note was usually a joke, and it always made him smile.

At night, when he was not busy playing in another city, the two of you would cook dinner together. He knew you hate touching raw meat, so he cut the chicken while you seasoned the veggies. Sidney thinks his life was meant to look like that.

But he also noticed the way your eyes watered when you looked at your cellphone, or how you avoided attending his games in person. It didn’t take a genius to figure out who the texts were from and who you were not looking forward to see again.

So far, you had managed to hide to your boyfriend that you were living with Sidney. The rookie still thought you were living with your friend. The captain just wanted to scream it to the world, but you wouldn’t let him, afraid of creating drama, especially since the playoffs were soon approaching. The rookie still thought you were living with your friend, and you let him believe that.

Sidney’s feelings were as strong as ever, but he wasn’t sure about yours. He knew for a fact they were there because of your promise to him, but also because he noticed them in the heat charged gazes you sent him and the way your eyes would trail his mouth, his jaw, his chest.

For his sake and the sake of your relationship (which was nothing but your two names on a dotted line because of the condo), you two established nonofficial limits. Of course, there had been moments when those rules were nearly broken, but how could they not, when two consenting adults were crazy for the other and living under the same roof?

The Penguins had just won the game, and Sidney was on fucking fire. It felt good to win, but it felt even better knowing you would be waiting at home for him.

When he did come home, though, you were not waiting for him in the living room like you usually did. Instead, he heard vague noises coming from upstairs.

“Sweet? Are you okay?” He nearly ran upstairs and knocked on your door.

“Uh, yeah. Just a second, please!” After a minute or two, you opened the door, a slight flush on your cheeks. “Hey, Sid. Congrats on the game. You played so well. That second goal was phenomenal.” Okay, you were definitely blushing and avoiding looking at him.

Suddenly, he recognized those sounds. You had made similar ones back when you and the rookie were still living together in his basement. The noises, the light layer of sweat, the blushing, it all made sense: you were touching yourself, and hopefully, you were thinking about him while doing it.

“Thanks, sweet. Glad you saw it. I just wanted to check up on you. I’m going to let you finish now.” He said that last part with a wink. Busted. You turned crimson. He was grinning from ear to ear.

“Um, yeah. I’m going to do that. Goodnight!” You nearly shut the door in his face. He heard you say “oh my god” repeatedly under your breath. Sidney chuckled. He was secretly glad you closed the door so quickly because he wouldn’t have been able to hide his erection any longer.

He entered his own bedroom, not fully closing the door. His hand was immediately in his pants. Knowing that you were doing the same thing basically next door did it for him. None of you knew, but you finished at the same time.

Sidney avoided the rookie at all costs in the locker room without it being too obvious. It took all of his self-control to not punch the defenseman in the face when he talked shit about his girlfriend that refused to talk to him. In his mind, he had done nothing wrong. Fucking idiot.

One Tuesday, while he was brushing his teeth, you came into the bathroom and sat on the counter. It was clear it was a rough night for you. Your phone had been blowing up all night and he heard you curse your boyfriend’s name. Sidney just wished you would break up with him. He did not know why you refused to, even though you would clearly never get back with him ever again. You acted like you were taken anyway, never daring to cross a line with Sidney. It was not his place to comment, but it was starting to burden him. He wanted to understand, but the old posts on your social media of your perfect relationship were a constant reminder.

“I wish I could be your mistress.” He nearly spit out his toothpaste. “What?”

“Yeah. That way, I wouldn’t be cheating on anyone.” Honestly, that was a pretty cheap thing to say. It was selfish and you only said it out of misery.

“But I would have to cheat on someone, and I would never do that to anyone.” Maybe his tone was cold, because your eyes misted immediately.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that, Sid. I just meant that I want us to be together, but I can’t cheat on him either.”

“Then why don’t you break off with him?” The words came out harsher than he intended them to.

“I don’t know, I don’t know, I don’t know! It’s so stupid, but I can’t bring myself to, and he only wants to have me back. I know he’s awful to me, but he was my first love, and I always imagined we would get married someday, you know? I guess I’m waiting for a good reason, even though I have an endless list of reasons why!” Tears welled up in your eyes.

“Hey, hey, don’t cry, okay? I’m sorry for saying that. I guess I’m just impatient, and maybe a little bit hurt.”

“Oh Sidney, I’m so, so sorry. You have to hang on to my promise, because I will stay true to it. I never wanted to hurt you. It won’t be long, I swear. I want you, Sidney Crosby. Will you wait for me a while more?”

He sighed softly. “Of course I will, my love. I’ll always wait for you.”

To seal the deal, you softly pressed your lips on him. At first, he was too shocked to do anything, but Sidney quickly returned the gesture with a soft kiss. He shared the taste of the toothpaste with you. A few seconds or minutes later, you pulled away shyly.

“Goodnight, Sidney.” You jumped of the counter and Sidney watched you leave the room in awe, his feelings even more conflicted than before. At least, you had given him hope.

The next day, the note on his snack was a kiss. Like an actual kiss made with your lipstick. He pinned it proudly in his locker.

[phillippadgettwrites]

So. Any chance of a Dropped Call 3??

Dropped Call, Chapter 3

Rated X / 4743 words / posted on AO3 / Tagging @today-in-fic

She thinks of it like a little toggle in her brain, like a switch. Or maybe more like a curtain that she can open and close at will. It’s something she developed as a teen, when her desire to remain pure of mind and body was in direct conflict with her desire to imagine what it might be like if Tommy Warner felt her up under her school uniform. Saturday night she’d stay up late discreetly discovering the hidden pleasure points between her legs, and then on Sunday morning she would simply flip the switch and go to Mass, her indiscretion so completely obscured behind her mental curtain that she felt no connection to Father Malone’s sermon on sins of the flesh. 

Over the years, she’s found many uses for this mental trick. In school, in jobs, in relationships, she avoids being overwhelmed by her own emotions by simply setting them aside, behind the curtain, and pretending as though they don’t exist. It doesn’t always work, but she’s found that the more intense the emotion is or the higher the stakes are, the more effectively she can ignore it, at least until she’s alone. In a psychology course at UMD she learned that the term for this strategy is compartmentalization, and that when done to excess it can become maladaptive. Rather than examine whether her own compartmentalization was doing her more harm than good, she stuck that behind the curtain, too. 

This whole bizarre situation with Mulder is taking up an increasingly large amount of space behind the curtain. So much space that she worries it could become uncontainable, that it could all burst through some Tuesday afternoon and ruin everything. She’s had to pull back on their friendship out of fear that the dam won’t hold, and the dichotomy of it all makes her feel like a stranger in her own life. She powers through each workday, counting down the hours until she can go home and stop using all her mental energy to hold the curtain closed. When she walks through her apartment door it hits her like a sneaker wave, and she spends the rest of the evening reading trashy romance novels, masturbating, or deep cleaning something just to keep herself distracted. 

The worst part of it is that it’s just so stupid. She knows that they both want the same thing, knows it with absolute certainty, and yet she’s too cowardly to let it happen. She can cross all kinds of boundaries with a phone line between them, but the second his physical form is proximal to hers, the curtain swings shut and her walls go up, and she truly doesn’t know how to stop it from happening. As it turns out, defense mechanisms aren’t entirely voluntary. 

It’s Friday, a week or so since their last sordid phone call, and Mulder is wearing his charcoal suit. He’s being excessively charming and she can’t stop smiling at him, despite her very best efforts not to. Not that she doesn’t want to smile and laugh with him, she very much does, but when he meets her eye and smiles at her like that, and she feels herself smiling back, the curtain strains against the weight of everything behind it and she begins to panic. 

“What are you up to this weekend?” he asks when she starts to pack up her things a few minutes before five. 

“Not much,” she says, not looking at him. “Grocery shopping. Maybe Mass with my mother.”

“Would it be okay if I gave you a call?”

She freezes. Mulder calls her all the time, near daily, and he’s never asked for permission to do so. The curtain bulges, threatening to split open, and she clears her throat. 

“Sure, that’s fine,” she says, her eyes still downcast. 

“Tonight?” His voice is so hopeful, and it makes her feel like shit. 

“Okay.”

She puts on her coat and slings her bag over her shoulder. Before leaving, she forces herself to look at him. 

“Have a good weekend,” she says with a polite little smile. 

Mulder’s eyes narrow in that way that means he’s psychoanalyzing her, his head tilted increments to the side. 

“Likewise,” he says, his tone unreadable. 

She escapes into the hallway, holding the curtain closed with both hands. 

Once inside her apartment, the weight of anticipation sits heavy in her pelvis and her ears tingle with the effort of listening for the phone. She changes into comfortable clothes and conveniently forgoes panties, barely registering the fact that she’s doing so to give herself easy access. 

He could call at any time. It could be in five minutes, or five hours. When 8:00 pm comes and goes she entertains the idea of just calling him instead, but she doesn’t have any room for that behind the curtain so she decides to wait. Wait. Wait. Wait. 

He finally calls at 8:57. 

“Hello?”

“Hey,” he says brightly. “Long time no talk.”

Is he being facetious since they just saw each other a few hours ago, or is he referring to the last time she played the role of Electra?

“It’s good to hear your voice,” she says, then makes a face at herself. Electra is supposed to be sexy, not sweet. 

“Ditto. What are you up to?”

She’s standing in the middle of her living room, piqued and nervous, but that’s probably not what he’s hoping to hear. 

“I’m…talking to you,” she says. “What are you doing?”

“Well,” he says with a sigh, “I have a bit of a conundrum.”

“Oh?” Scully paces slowly around her couch and coffee table. Where is he going to take this?

“I was hoping you could help me out,” he says. 

“Okay. What’s the conundrum?”

“Well, it’s about my partner,” he says. 

Scully sinks slowly down onto the couch. 

“Okay.”

She hears Mulder swallow thickly. 

“So I think,” he begins, “that she might be interested. That she might…share my feelings.”

Scully’s heart leaps and begins to pound against her ears. 

“That’s…that’s good news, right?” she says, reminding herself that she is Electra right now. 

“It is, absolutely. Phenomenal news,” he says emphatically. 

“So what’s the conundrum?”

“I think she’s too afraid to take the next step. I know she is, actually,” he says. She can hear the way the sunflower seeds in his mouth change the shape of his words, and she imagines him spending the hours leading up to this phone call munching on them and thinking about how to have this conversation. “And I think maybe she needs me to be the one to do that. But if I’m wrong, I run the risk of fucking things up between us.”

“That sounds difficult,” she says, her head spinning. 

“So what should I do?” he asks. 

Electra wants to answer the question, but Scully is frantically shoving things back behind the curtain, tugging at the edges in an attempt to keep it all hidden. 

“I think you’re right,” she blurts out, closing her eyes. “I think she does need you to be the one.”

There’s a beat of silence. 

“But should I wait?” he asks. “Maybe she’s not ready.”

“I imagine she’s as ready now as she’ll ever be,” she says, eyes still closed. The curtain is tearing right down the middle, the contents spilling out, and her stomach lurches. 

“Okay,” he says. “Thank you. I appreciate your help.”

Scully sits up, opening her eyes. Was that it?

“No problem.”

“Hey, can I call you right back?” Mulder says, his tone much lighter. 

“Sure, okay.”

Her heart pounds painfully hard in the roughly thirty seconds that she waits for him to call back. Maybe he’s going to call Scully this time. Maybe he’s going to put it all out in the open and force her hand. Even though it’s what she just told him he should do, she’s so terrified that she considers not answering. 

“Hello?”

“Hey, me again, sorry about that,” he says. 

So…she’s still Electra?

“It’s fine,” she says, then waits for him to speak. 

“I was hoping we could try something different,” he says. “Bit of a role reversal.”

“Um, okay,” she says, curious but worried. “What did you have in mind?

“I’ve told you about my fantasies.” A pause. “I’d like to hear about yours.” Her entire nervous system short circuits, and she briefly loses touch with reality. “Electra?”

“Yeah,” she sputters, shifting around on the couch uncomfortably. “I’m here. Is that…allowed?”

Mulder laughs nervously.  

“The arrangement is that I pay you to talk to me. There aren’t really rules beyond that.”

“Oh.” Her mind is going a million miles an hour trying to figure out how to sidestep this. “That’s, um…that’s quite private, though.”

“True. But I’d argue that you’ve been given unfettered access to my private thoughts, so it’s an equal exchange,” he reasons. 

She can tell that he won’t push much further. He knows her too well to do that. But he does have a point, and she still harbors some guilt for not stopping him when he shared his fantasy with her in that first phone call. 

“Yeah, that’s true,” she says. “What do you want to know?”

She senses his excitement, and she’s so conflicted between feeling excited herself and feeling terrified. There will be no coming back from this. The curtain is practically in tatters. 

“I would be ecstatic to hear literally anything you’re willing to share,” he says carefully, tempering his eagerness. 

Scully leafs through her mental file of fantasies, the ones she’s prone to revisit. Her cheeks get hot as she considers the idea of sharing any of them with Mulder, in no small part because he stars in every single one of them. But right now he’s talking to Electra, and Electra would be fantasizing about someone else. She finds an intact corner of the curtain and draws it up, separating herself from the situation. 

“We’re in my kitchen,” she says, jumping right into it. “We’ve just had dinner or something and we’re cleaning up. He’s helping me with the dishes.”

“Who is he?” Mulder interrupts. 

“He’s…a friend.”

“A close friend?”

“Yes. A best friend.” She can’t leave him to wonder if she’s talking about him. That feels too cruel. “A coworker,” she adds. 

“What does he look like?”

Scully lays back on the couch, propping her head on the armrest. She pictures Mulder earlier that day at work in his charcoal suit, smiling at her over his desk. 

“Tall. Dark features. Handsome.”

“You think so?”

She smiles and allows this brief break in their role play. 

“I do. Very much.”

“So you’re in the kitchen,” he prompts her.

“We’re in the kitchen and we’re kind of joking around, laughing. He’s teasing me, but not in an unkind way. And there’s a moment where he’s looking at me and smiling, and something passes between us. Moments like that happen all the time, but I always look away.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m afraid,” she admits. 

“Of what?”

She takes a moment to consider the question. As conflicted as she is when it comes to her relationship with Mulder, she’s never allowed herself to think too deeply about what exactly she’s conflicted about. 

“Of being hurt, I guess. Of being vulnerable.”

“You think he’d hurt you?” he asks, maybe a bit wounded. 

“Not intentionally,” she says. “But I think it could easily happen.”

She senses that he’d like to explore this line of thought, but that would completely derail the fantasy. She hears a beeping sound and then a soft thud. Maybe the microwave. Leave it to Mulder to get hungry at a time like this. 

“I’m sure he’d do everything possible to avoid that,” he says somberly. “So do you look away?”

“No,” she says, jumping back to the kitchen in her mind. “I don’t look away this time, and it becomes…intense. He steps closer and I realize he’s going to kiss me.”

“And you want him to?”

“Yes, very much. He kisses me and it’s sweet at first, but quickly becomes more…intense. Sorry, I can’t think of a different word to use.”

“Intense is a good word,” he says, encouraging her. 

His connection is a bit muffled, like the phone isn’t quite lined up correctly to his mouth. She wonders if he’s in bed, and what he’s doing.

“He picks me up and puts me on the counter, which makes things much easier because he’s quite a bit taller than me. And we just kiss for a while. I guess…I guess more accurately it would be making out.”

“Do you think he’s a good kisser?”

“Yes,” she answers immediately. 

“You’ve given this thought?”

“Yes,” she says again. 

“And then what?”

Scully swallows. This is where things go from PG-13 to explicit. 

“And then he pulls me down off the counter so I’m standing on the floor, and he turns me around.” Mulder is silent on the other end of the line. All she hears is a mechanical hum. “And he, um, he pulls my pants and underwear down. And then he sort of pushes me forward so I’m leaning over the counter.”

Her heart simply cannot take this. It’s been in overdrive so long she’s starting to sweat, and she’s lying completely still on the couch. 

“What does he do?” Mulder finally asks. 

“I think he’s going to…to take me from behind, but he doesn’t,” she says, her voice shaking. “He kneels on the floor behind me.”

“Tell me.” His voice is commanding, not pleading, and it’s effective. 

“He, um, he eats me out from behind. He makes me orgasm that way,” she says. 

She hears the rush of Mulder’s sharp inhale through the phone. 

“Is that where it ends?” he asks. 

She barely registers another set of beeps and another soft thud.

“No,” she continues. “After that he does take me from behind.”

“He fucks you?”

The sharpness of the word, from Mulder’s mouth, in reference to herself, makes her clit jump. Scully slides her free hand under the waist of her pants and swirls her middle finger around it languidly. 

“Yes,” she breathes. “He fucks me.”

“Do you come again?”

“Yes.”

“What about him?”

“He comes inside me.”

“You want him to?”

“I do.”

“Are you touching yourself?” he asks, his voice a near whisper.

“Yes,” she whispers back. 

“Open the door,” he says. 

“What?”

“Open the door.”

Her confusion gives way to horror as she recognizes the soft murmur of his voice in the hallway. She’s frozen in place, her hand down her pants and her widened eyes on her front door. 

“Mulder, what are you doing?” she hisses, pulling her hand out of her pants as she slips down to the floor and attempts to hide behind the couch. 

“Please let me in,” he implores, and she hears his voice in stereo. 

“I can’t,” she whimpers. 

It feels true. She feels physically incapable of walking to the door and allowing him to look at her after what she just told him. 

“Then I’m going to let myself in,” he says. 

He waits a beat to see if she’ll object, but she says nothing. She hears the scrape of his key in the lock and then the pop of the deadbolt. The door opens and she slowly stands up from behind the couch, the phone still pressed to her ear. 

He’s standing in her entryway, his cell phone in one hand and his keys in the other, wearing jeans and a white T-shirt. He catches her eye and holds it for a beat, and she pulls the phone away from her ear, breaking eye contact to end the call. And then she just stands there, shell-shocked, staring at the phone in her hands. 

She hears him slip off his shoes and pad across the room towards her. There’s nowhere for her to hide, physically or emotionally. The curtain is toast, and her fingers are coated in her own arousal, and Mulder is in her living room with full knowledge of what she wishes he would do to her. This is either the best or the worst moment of her adult life. She’s afraid to find out which. 

He takes the phone from her and sets it on the coffee table. Next she feels his hands on her jaw, forcing her to look up at him. She complies reluctantly, and a few seconds tick by as the familiar intensity builds. She sees in his face how much he wants this, wants her, and it reaches that point she can’t bear where she always looks away. Just when she can’t take it any longer, when she’s about to avert her eyes to the fireplace, he kisses her. 

At first it’s sweet. He presses his soft lips against hers again and again, a series of firm but chaste kisses that begin to devolve when she opens her mouth and he runs his tongue across the inside of her upper lip. He’s bent down and she’s on the tips of her toes, and it feels like she just can’t get close enough. 

She squeals with surprise when her feet fly out from beneath her and Mulder tosses her down on the couch, quickly covering her body with his own. Their height difference compensated for, he kisses her deeply and intensely, and he is every bit as skilled at kissing as she imagined him to be. His hips are tucked between her open legs, and the more they kiss the smaller the gap between their bodies grows until she feels the hard ridge of his erection press against her clit. She whimpers into his open mouth, and he pulls back a little to look at her. 

“Do you want this?” he asks breathlessly, and she nods. “You’ll tell me if you want me to stop?” She nods again. 

He shifts his body to the side to free up one of his hands, then resumes kissing her. His hand drifts up under her shirt, and she feels like she could come just from the knowledge that he’s going to touch her, that this is happening. He kneads her breast, gently pinches her nipple, all the while grinding against her hip. It feels so deliciously forbidden, like they’re two teenagers necking in a basement, until his hand slides down her belly and under the waist of her pants. 

He pauses, giving her time to adjust or object. She just keeps kissing him as his fingers comb through her pubic hair and then trace the seam of one leg, and then the other. She remembers his fantasy, and she shifts one of her legs to the side to let him know she’s ready. That she wants it. 

“Jesus christ,” he mumbles against her mouth when his fingers slide down her slick lips. 

His touch, his words, his presence, have her on the edge already. 

“Mulder,” she breathes out. “I—”

He pushes a finger inside her and she gasps as her cunt squeezes it tightly. 

“Oh, Scully,” he says, grinding against her with his face tucked into the crook of her neck. “You need this.”

She can’t stop it. She’s coming with hardly any warning, with hardly any effort on his part, and with such intensity that she stops breathing. Mulder whispers things to her that she will recall later and blush, gently fucking her with his fingers all the while. It is absolute euphoria, and she’s so high on dopamine that she can’t bother feeling embarrassed for being so easy. 

Mulder slips his hand out of her pants and she turns her body so that they are face to face, somehow both wedged onto her tiny couch. She runs her fingers through his hair and then cradles his jaw, and he watches her face with awe. 

“That was unexpected,” she says quietly, and a grin breaks out over his face. “Thanks for coming over,” she adds, averting her eyes to his mouth. 

His smile suddenly falls. “I don’t want to hurt you,” he says, and she lifts her eyes back to his. 

“I know,” she says, and then she kisses him. 

The kissing goes on for a delightfully long while, and she finds that she very much enjoys the way that Mulder kisses. At the realization that she has the long awaited opportunity to get her hands on the everpresent bulge in his pants, she runs her palm firmly over the front of his jeans, and he groans. 

“You don’t have to do that,” he says, extremely unconvincingly. 

“What if I want to?” she asks. 

She feels him lurch under her palm. 

“Then I’d say we probably need to take this party to the bedroom,” he says tightly. 

They scramble off the couch, and he walks her backwards into her bedroom as he works her shirt off over her head. He removes his shirt as well, and they stand at the foot of her bed, his fingers tucked under the waist of her pants. A lamp in the living room is still on, but the bedroom is dark, giving them enough light to see without feeling exposed. 

“I can’t help but notice that you’re not wearing panties,” he says, and she feels herself blushing. 

“They just get in the way,” she admits shyly, and he makes a little sound that’s somewhere between a whine and a moan. 

“Can I take these off?” he asks, and she nods. 

She feels his eyes on her, but he’s very respectful. He doesn’t stand back to gawk at her or say anything lewd, he just kisses her face, the tops of her shoulders, anything he can reach without sitting down. Before he does so for the sake of getting his mouth on her breasts, she pops the button on his fly and he sucks in a breath. 

“Easy, loaded weapon,” he quips. 

“I’d be a hypocrite to judge you,” she points out. 

“That’s, uh, not quite the same,” he says as she lowers his fly and slips her fingers under his boxers at his hips. “But I appreciate the sentiment.”

She pushes his jeans and boxers halfway down his thighs and then wraps her hand around his cock. Her eyebrows shoot up, and that’s before she runs her palm over the length of him. 

“You know that I hate to inflate your ego,” she says, sliding her hand down to cup his balls, “but color me impressed.”

He chuckles and it dissolves into a groan. He sits heavily on the end of the bed, tugging her down with him, and she climbs into his lap. His cock brushes against her clit and she sucks in a shuddering breath. 

“What do you want?” he asks, steadying her with his hands on her naked hips while he works his feet the rest of the way out of his jeans. 

“...I don’t know,” she says, which is a lie. 

“You don’t know, or you don’t want to say?” he asks, reading her mind as always. 

She reaches between them and takes hold of his cock. 

“I want this,” she whispers, feeling like she might burst into flames. 

They start kissing again and she’s still stroking him, brushing him over her clit. She pushes up onto her knees a little and drags the head down over her lips and across her opening. She’s obscenely wet and Mulder is making all kinds of greedy, hungry noises: groaning and humming, grabbing at her ass and sucking on her breasts. He’s right there, and they both want this, and when she presses the head of him against her cunt and he starts to sink in, the energy in the room shifts. 

“Oh, shhhhhhhhhhit,” he groans, his breathing suddenly ragged. 

She feels proud, and sexy, and powerful as he stretches her open inch by inch. It hurts a little, but not near enough for her to even consider stopping. They’re both panting like they’ve exerted themselves and they’re only just getting started. 

She lifts her hips again and sinks back down before she’s even managed to take him in all the way; she just can’t wait any longer. He has one hand on her hip, the other braced against the mattress behind him to keep them from toppling over, and his hips are eagerly flexing up to meet her. Each time she lowers herself back down she takes in a bit more of his length, until they are pressed tightly together and she feels the poke of his pubic hair against her swollen lips. 

She stills and immediately he’s kissing her, sucking at her lips and humming noisily. She loves the sounds he’s making and how eager he is, how openly enthusiastic. God, she wants to make him come. Wants to feel him throbbing inside her, running out of her. 

She starts to shift her hips forward and back, slipping him tightly in and out and running his shaft across her clit on each downstroke. 

“Fuck,” he says under his breath. “You feel…incredible.”

His compliment goes straight to her cunt and she flutters around him, making him moan. 

“I’m gonna come,” she whispers shyly against his mouth. 

“Shit, you’re gonna make me come,” he says harshly, like this is bad news. 

But the idea of him coming inside her is enough to send her over the edge. She digs her fingernails into the back of his neck and presses her forehead against his as she clamps down on him, her mouth open and her eyes squeezed shut. 

“Oh my god,” she wails as a tsunami of pleasure crashes over her, sweeping her out to sea. 

Mulder lets loose a stream of obscenities and she feels a hot rush deep in her belly. She rides him roughly as it just keeps coming and coming, and he falls backwards onto the bed, taking her down with him. He keeps thrusting up into her from below, and the wet slosh of both of them is almost embarrassing, had she the faculties for embarrassment. He finally becomes too soft to continue thrusting and there is a second hot rush when he slips out of her. 

She collapses against him, her cheek pressed to his sweat-damp chest, and waits for the inevitable surge of shame and regret, even though she knows it’s not shameful and she certainly doesn’t regret it. Without warning, Mulder wraps his arms around her and rolls her to the side, which does nothing to contain the mess between her legs. He hovers over her, searching her face, knowing her well enough to predict that she’ll struggle in the immediate aftermath. 

“You okay?” he asks, trailing the back of his knuckle across her cheek. 

She gives him a weak smile and nods, though tears are pooling in her eyes. She’s not even sure why. 

“Please don’t take my demeanor as an indication of anything,” she says, touching his waist. “It’s not about you, I just…this is difficult for me.”

“I know,” he says. “Take as much time as you need.”

She nods, waiting for the tightness in her throat to subside before she tries to speak again. 

“I’m sure Electa doesn’t require this much emotional maintenance,” she jokes, swiping a finger under her eye to clear a way a tear before it has a chance to fall. 

Mulder smiles at her and sighs. 

“I haven’t called her in weeks, just so you know,” he says. “And I don’t plan to.”

“You can call whoever you want, Mulder, I have no right to an opinion on it,” she says quickly, panicking at the idea that he feels beholden to her. 

He rests his head on her chest just above her breast and curls up around her, which feels a bit backwards but also feels very nice. She strokes his hair and he splays his hand out over the scar on her belly, and they are quiet for a beat. 

“I’d like you to have a right to an opinion on it,” he says suddenly, quietly, and it takes her a moment to follow. 

“...You would?”

“Doesn’t have to be right away, but yes.”

“Okay,” she says. 

He doesn’t ask what that okay means, which she’s grateful for because she doesn’t really know. And even though she’s not brave enough to ask him to stay over, he seems to know that she wants him to, and he stays. She has absolutely no idea what she’s doing, but she trusts that they’ll figure it out together, like they always do. 

[just-another-siimp]

Surface Pressure 141 x Reader HCs

Just a dumb bunch of thoughts about the 141st members reacting to their S/O giving them a massage, i crave fluff so i'm writing it for myself. If you guys like this please reblog! It gives me my daily serotonin boost.

word count: 1.3k Warnings: Unsure, if you find any let me know <3.

Captain John Price

We all know that as Captain, John is under a lot of pressure to not only keep his team alive but to get results.

A lot of the stress that he has is held in his shoulders, it doesn't help that post mission he spent a lot of his time hunched over a desk completing reports.

Massages often helped.

You often bought him coffee in the early hours of the morning, strong and dark the perfect combination to get him through the rest of his reports.

Even with exhaustion hanging over you, you'd stay by his side. Keeping him company until he joined you in bed.

You sat on your phone, idly scrolling through the news trying to catch up on the normal of aspects of life you missed while deployed. In the three months since you'd been away there was another royal scandal, the clicking of keys stopped drawing your attention away from the click bait article you'd been occupying yourself with.

Looking up you noticed how John rubbed his shoulder, sighing as he checked over his work before turning to you. When your eyes met he smiled and you practically melted, rolling the chair closer to his side in order to steal a kiss to the cheek before you lost him to his reports again.

"I'm almost done, love. Won't be long now." Your hand reached out to his, squeezing gently as you stood fingers sliding up his arm and the shoulder he'd been rubbing just moments prior. Wordlessly you added a small amount of pressure, both hands now gently massaging the tension away. John leaned back in his chair, head lulling to the side as his hands reached up to hold yours. In a matter of seconds he'd completely melted in his chair, blue eyes staring lovingly up at you.

"You've been sitting at this desk too long, dear." "Hmm if you keep this up I'll never get the reports done."

"That's the point."

Kyle 'Gaz' Garrick

Gaz always has an air of 'calm' surrounding him, it's the reason why you'd fallen in love with him. Even under pressure he never seemed to crack, though that didn't change the fact that even he could grow angry and frustrated.

Anger was often a result of exhaustion, nightmares, aching limps keeping him awake or the worst possible thing. Your young neighbours throwing a house party at 2am on a tuesday.

You'd hate to admit it but even you were growing tense with the near constant thudding of bass boosted music. The party did eventually end, only with police intervention. Which was probably for the best, because if either of you had gone next door it would not have been a nice encounter.

Even after the nights drama Gaz couldn't sleep, he'd continued to toss and turn next to you. No amounts of spooning able to quench the frustration he felt.

Gaz had gotten up to get a glass of water from the kitchen, you sat up listening to the sound of footsteps padding back into the room. He gave you an apologetic smile as he placed the glasses down, that's when you realised. He'd bought you water too. This man was far too sweet to be real.

"Sorry to wake you Sweetheart."

"Come 'ere"

Your voice was coated in sleep, soft and sweet as you reached out for him. As he knelt down on the bed he pulled you into a kiss, something soft and sweet hidden within all of his anger and frustration.

"Lay down."

"Is that an order?" He's smirking at you, you're rolling your eyes at him. Despite the sass he still lays down, on his stomach. Fingers tugging lightly at the shirt you wore, it belonged to him once upon a time. Doing your best not to accidentally knee Kyle in the ribs you straddled his back, hands running down his back.

"Don't be a shit, Kyle."

"Yes ma'am."

In a matter of seconds he was putty in your hands, muscles relaxing under your expert hands as they pushed out the knots in his back. Fifteen minutes later he was fast asleep, with you laying on his back like a weighted blanket. Both finally sleeping peacefully.

Simon 'Ghost' Riley

Ghost isn't the type to enjoy a massage, or any form of TLC really. The feeling of hands on his shoulders send him back to the battlefield, the weight on his back makes him feel like he's suffocating.

Even with you he's not fond of a massage, if you start to rub his shoulders or back he'll guide you into a a hug. Often smothering you in a cuddle, or returning the favour and offering to give you a massage instead.

What he does like however, is his hands being played with.

Simon can't explain it, but the feeling of your fingers gently pinching the pressure point between his thumb and forefinger is relaxing.

The movie had long since been abandoned, yet it still played softly in the background. You and Simon hadn't moved from the couch since dinner, takeout containers sitting empty on floor instead of being disposed of immediately. 'It won't hurt for the floor to be messy for a few hours' Simon had said, his attempt at keeping you on the couch successful. He'd sat with his back against the armrest, you between his legs so he could stop you from leaving. So you wouldn't have been able to say no either way.

Your hands had taken one of his, gently massaging away the ache that had settled in during the cool evening. He told you he was starting to get old, you rolled your eyes and reminded him that you're both the same age.

As the ending title began to play you shifted, releasing his hand as you attempted to get up. The same hand you'd been holding moments early snaking back around your waist and pulling you back to him.

"Where are you going?"

"To pee"

"I'm coming with you." At that comment you smack his hand, standing up.

"Clingy are we?"

Johnny 'Soap' MacTavish

Johnny is very much a head rub kinda guy, he would start world war three if it meant getting a head rub.

that's an exaggeration, he wouldn't.. unless- jk

He likes to sit in front of you on the couch while you play with his mohawk, normally he pulls your leg over his shoulder and will massage your calf or foot.

He doesn't want you to feel left out

but when he's stressed tho? like mega stressed all of the tension in his body goes to his neck. He ends up getting Migraines so bad he sits in a dark until they go away. When on a mission it's worse.

As the sun went down the chill in the safe house grew, huddling closer to the fire you waited for Soap to come out of the shower. He'd been in there for longer than usual, you could only assume that it was as a result of the exhaustion that had overtaken both of you.

If it wasn't for the chill that had set in you'd probably have fallen asleep in bed, but you'd wait for Johnny first. After all snuggling was the best way to achieve warmth, or so he liked to remind you. The door swung open behind you, footsteps skipping right past you as he flopped down on the bed.

It was clear as day and you knew the signs, he had one of those Migraines again.

"mo ghràdh.. I'm so tired."

"Come get into bed properly, love. Then you can sleep."

Once you were both snuggled up under the covers, your hand rested on the back of his neck. Thumb sliding up from his shoulder just to the base of his ear, adding a little pressure before going back to it's starting position.

"Y/N-"

"Shh, go back to sleep."

"Thank you.."

Within a few minutes you'd both drifted off to sleep.

[milkws-world]

Bitter// Simon “Ghost” Riley

Pairing: Simon “Ghost” Riley x fem!reader

•Readers call sign is Circe!

Warnings: ANGSTTT, descriptions of burn out and sad feelings, ghost being a little bit of an ass, two adults sorting their shit out

Summary:

“I’m sorry doll, I really am” he was pressing his forehead against yours now. “I’m not any good at this either, if you couldn’t already tell. But I wanna try, wanna try for you.” Your hands reached up to wrap around his wrists, you felt like you were about to burst. You knew how rare it was for him to say stuff like this and the fact that he wanted to try was pulling at your heart. “Don’t even wanna think about losing you and the fact that I made you doubt that-.” He cut himself off, he looked like he was trying to regain his composure.

A/N: Heyyy lovelies, long time no see. This can be read as a stand alone or as a Pt.2 to Cold Hands. There is a second part to this one with all the spicy stuff so don’t worry😋. I’ll probably be posting that next Monday or Tuesday.

It had been a month since the night he had stayed over at your flat. The night he touched and caressed you like it’d be the last time. You had been intimate before, there was no denying that, but the fact he stayed that night changed everything. You had feared it’d been too much too soon; your mind was a mess compared to the tidy and organized side of the bed opposite you, his side.

He had been deployed with Price and Gaz onto some mission you were only given brief details about.

Urzikstan. Massive cargos. Illegal weapons. Capture the target.

You were on R&R(rest and recuperation) by the captain. Usually, you would have been at the door of his office as soon as you received the news, but it had been a long fucking time since you’d gotten some proper rest. The dark areas underneath your eyes, scars that were still in their healing process, rough hands that could barely be flexed all the way due to the death grip you constantly had on your gun, and the tightness in every single muscle were all indicators towards the fact you needed a break.

The physical aspect of it all was only the beginning to the burn out you had felt coming long ago. You felt like shit to put it quite plainly. This month had you feeling empty and mentally exhausted beyond belief, when these long missions were finally done you no longer felt any sense of accomplishment just relief that it was finally over. It had been hard to get out of bed alone that morning no warning, no note, no nothing. You couldn’t exactly say you were surprised but anything at all would’ve been nice, because it’s what you would’ve done for him.

Now maybe that’s just you going out of your way or falling too hard for a man whose face you had never even fully seen. But it’s also just basic fucking respect from your point of view. Not having much to do was really starting to take its toll on you, too much thinking and reading into things you were sure weren’t even there was driving you insane. But it was only a couple more days before they’d come back to base, before he came back.

Meeting debriefs after missions is always quick, everyone just wants to get out of that room and cleanse themselves of all the horrors and grief that comes with the job. It was coincidence really; you didn’t even know they had gotten back. It was when you and Soap were on your way to the mess hall that you saw him, and he saw you. He had to have. You were right fucking there; you swore your shoulder even grazed a bit when you passed by.

“Glad to have ya’ back Lt.” the Scottish man said. You could tell he was hanging onto that last bit of sanity by the sag in his shoulders and the dragging of his feet, but his eyes said it all for him.

“Soap” the word came out dry and curt, a vocal representation of the man himself.

That was it, no nod or a glance of his eyes over to you to acknowledge that you were there. Just skimmed right past you. That was fine you tried to convince yourself, it’s probably what you were like after coming back from a mission. But it hurt, yet again you knew you shouldn’t expect much from him. You were a grown woman you shouldn’t be thinking about such a short and simple moment like a teenager in high school who can't wait to pass by her crush in the hallways.

Soon enough it had been two weeks since they’d been back, and everyone had gone their separate ways to recover from possibly the longest past 6 months of their lives. Those two weeks on base were hell though and you had never been gladder to be in your own plain and undecorated flat by yourself. He completely ignored you, and you had tried to come up with reasons or justifications but there just wasn’t any that were good enough for you.

It was the third day after the group returned when you tried talking to him for the first time. You figured you’d give him some time alone to gather his thoughts and recover from the long mission, but he was not up for your antics. You had caught sight of him leaving the mess hall and decided to excuse yourself from the group. Your small and quick steps making work to catch up to his long strides.

“Ghost” no response. At this point you were starting to get annoyed.

“Simon” you said more quietly as you were now only two feet behind him. He turns around and meets your soft gaze with a plain one. He looked almost bothered, you could feel it in the way he turned around with the slightest bit of hesitation. “Hey, are you alright or-”

“Fine” his answer was simple as always never a man of many words, at least not in public. You were starting to blank out under his cold gaze. He didn’t make you nervous but with the way he was looking at you right now you couldn’t necessarily say you felt at peace either.

“Ok um, well just wanted to check up on you really quickly” you felt like you had set yourself up. The air was thick, and you could feel your thoughts racing at 100 miles per hour as you waited for a response.

“Look sergeant, whatever you think is going to happen it’s not going to. I’m not here for hugs and cuddles, I'm here to do a fuckin’ job” to say you felt shocked was an understatement, he looked unfazed. “I'd suggest you do the same.” He walks away and you stay rooted in your spot, still processing his bitter words.

To say you were pissed was an understatement, who the fuck did he think he was? The rest of those two weeks were filled with awkward tension and silent fury from your side. It was to the point you couldn’t even stand being in the same room as him for more than a couple seconds, partly because the sight of him made your blood boil and because as much as you didn’t want to admit it you were upset. To have something build up little by little then just have that snatched away like it was nothing was horrible. He had gained your trust just as you had his, not just over a couple of nights but years of knowing each other and protecting one another with your lives. Holding each other at the depths of night and piecing each other back up with kisses and soft yet rough hands.

You couldn’t sleep, the fatigue had been slowly pulling at your bones like a tide pulling you in to the comfort of a vast sea. It was too much though; his words had been taunting your brain over and over again. So, you got up, ripping off the soft sheets which were a blessing compared to the coarse ones back at base. The need to get some fresh air and freeze your thoughts with the cold night air was starting to sound more pleasant than sulking in bed.

As soon as you open the door your reflexes take over for you, reaching for a gun in a holster that was long forgotten in the backpack you had left in your room. You soon realized there was no danger though, just a mass of black with jeans, a hoodie, and a black surgical mask with a hand raised midair. Was he about to knock?

“Ghost” you sounded breathless, even to yourself. Like the wind had been knocked out of you at just the sight of those eyes. Those god damned eyes. So responsive to everything around him, shifting at the slightest sound and showing emotions that could only be understood if one knew him. Knew him like you did. He looked tired, the bags underneath his eyes with no paint to cover them up were exposing him. “Are you alright?” Your question suddenly brought you back to your brief conversation a couple weeks earlier. You couldn’t help yourself though, worry taking over as there were very few reasons for him to be here.

“Fi-” he exhaled through his nose suddenly stopping himself, ah so he also remembered your conversation. “I was in town just wanted to come check up on you.”

“At 2 in the morning?” you were holding back. You wanted to say how shit he had made you feel for the last two weeks.

“Yeah I know, look can I come inside? I wanna- I need to talk to you.” He sounded desperate, and you considered it for a second, hesitating. “Please” to say you felt defeated as you opened the door wider for him to come in was an understatement.

You waited for him to start; he was the one that had come to you first not the other way around. He looked nervous almost, his tense posture making you feel more uneasy as well, he had that effect on you.

“Circe, I didn’t mean what I said back at base” he was looking at you with pleading eyes. You knew where this was going. “I pushed you away and I was an arse, I didn’t mean to fuck up what we had going on.”

“Simon” you could tell hearing his name took him by surprise by the way his pupils widened “what you did and what you said it fucking hurt.”

“I'm not a good at any of this especially trying to read you when you won’t even look at me but if you don’t want this anymore just tell me.” You continued, “Don’t destroy my trust, don’t leave me to pick up the pieces by myself after you say shit like that.” You could feel your eyes watering a bit, you don’t know why you were getting so emotional, although it was probably because the thought of losing what little you had built with him felt grim.

He couldn’t help it, especially when your eyes were getting that glossy look and your lower lip was pouting out a little. So he reached out, slowly, like a child dipping their feet to test out the waters. He wasn’t wearing any gloves and his hands felt cold as they held your face delicately, as if he was bearing the world's most fine China. He tilted your face up so you’d look at him and fuck, he knew he had screwed up, and if he was going to make it up to you he had to do it fast.

“I’m sorry doll, I really am” he was pressing his forehead against yours now. “I’m not any good at this either, if you couldn’t already tell. But I wanna try, wanna try for you.” Your hands reached up to wrap around his wrists, you felt like you were about to burst. You knew how rare it was for him to say stuff like this and the fact that he wanted to try was pulling at your heart. “Don’t even wanna think about losing you and the fact that I made you doubt that-.” He cut himself off, he looked like he was trying to regain his composure.

“Simon, it's alright” you knew he was being sincere, and you also wanted to try, “just please, don’t do this to me again. Because you know I won’t tolerate it, not even from you.”

“I know, I know” he was pulling you closer to him by wrapping an arm around your waist.

“Alright” he takes you by surprise with his next action though. He pulls back only slightly to tear off his mask, and heavens above he is gorgeous to you. His jaw, sharp and stubbled with short hairs. His nose sharp and straight with a slight bump, and his eyes. Those beautiful eyes that brought his face all together.

“Hidin’ all this from me under a mask?” you were smiling up at him now. “Not anymore” he responds with a sly smirk on his face. His lips are brushing against yours and you can't resist anymore. So, you bring his lips to yours and close the gap. It was gentle, starting off with short kisses but you were greedy it had been far too long. He can sense your eagerness and slowly slips his tongue into your mouth, swiping it over your own and over the roof of your mouth. He tasted like Marlboro reds with the slightest hint of Whiskey, his favorite of course.

You felt whole again, the missing puzzle piece was finally found. You kind of hated how much you were relying on him already, but God was it addicting, like the poison you could taste in his mouth. He was grabbing at you slowly bringing his hand down from your face to your neck to keep you in place. It was getting messy, both of your spit was collecting at the corners of your mouth and you felt like you’d asphyxiate from the lack of air but what he was giving you was more than enough to keep you going. His hand grabbed at your jaw to tilt your head and his hand on your waist dragged you closer making you arch up against him. His mouth slowly trailed down to your neck leaving soft kisses and sucking marks onto your neck as you leaned your head to the side. Then he went up right behind your ear, your soft spot. He pulled back to look at your face, you already felt disoriented form all the affection and he could tell.

He then softly placed his mouth right by your ear, “Let me make it up to you.”

A/N: hey there, hope you enjoyed that😙. In case you didn’t see the note on the top just know that there will be a second part to this with all the spicy stuff🌶️. I’ll probably be posting that next Monday or Tuesday, happy new years!

[barbwritesstuff]

barb i bought a southern book club's guide to slaying vampires around this time last year and just never got to it, but i finally cracked it open on friday and finished it this morning (tuesday) and holy shit it was amazing!!! its been a minute since the plot of a book gnawed that hard on my brain when i wasnt reading it!!!!

I know! It's so... I don't even know the word. Gnawed is good. That's how I felt after reading it. Gnawed on. It's so creepy and weird and visceral and violent. I also just love that the housewives aren't treated as a joke (by the narrative, their loser husbands and the vampire certainly do think of these women as a joke... to their folly). I also like that the main characters have some actual intense flaws that they have to overcome.

A great book.