#⸢ It's time to be broody let's go. ⸥ | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

daemonbrain · 2 months ago

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Part 1

3.5k, cw: ghosts a pervert and stalker, readers husband is a piece of work, brief mentions of sex, explicit, not proofread

Simon Riley wasn’t one for the romantics, he was a simple man. Wake up early in the morning just as he would on base, complete his training regimen, take a quick shower, and rot away in his one bedroom one bathroom apartment until he's recalled for a mission. A mundane life for the soldier who dealt with life-or-death circumstances just as many times as he’s brewed himself a cup of tea.

But even Simon had things to look forward to. After enduring the monotonous routine of his week he’d practically sprint to the butcher's shop, not for love of the finer cuts of meat one could find, but to see his bird.

Still the fittest thing he had ever seen, your relationship evolved from standing with your back turned to his debauched stares to you actually saying hello to him. Slowly hello turned to little conversations. By conversations, it mainly consisted of you prattling on about one thing or another while Simon grunted out a short “yeah?” or “hm.” Sometimes he felt bad that his pretty little thing who always had endless things to say spoke to him, someone who was pretty much a brick wall in conversation.

But, ah well. He couldn’t think of you banging on the headboard while he fucked you and fully pay attention to what was said in his defense.

At times he didn’t know whether to scold or praise your ability to dole out kindness to even a cold bastard like him. A stranger was what he was, and you still managed to speak to him as if he were any other man you’d meet on the street.

He didn’t deserve it, he knew that. Not with the things he has done to others. Things that would send your pretty little head toppling off your shoulders if you knew. Not with the way he prowled behind as you shakily made your way up the slippery sidewalk, plastic bag with groceries in hand.

He didn’t deserve it, but he was sure as hell certain your fuckwit of a husband definitely didn’t deserve it. That prick left you walking alone and cold the whole way home, letting you know minutes before he was supposed to pick you up from the butcher’s shop.

That pathetic guy didn’t want to take care of his wife? Didn’t want to pay attention to his girl? Well fine, he didn’t need to. Simon would.

As if it physically pained him to watch you have to lift a finger, he sped up his pace and loudly cleared his throat from behind.

Whirling around in fright, your tensed shoulder immediately relax upon meeting Simon’s eyes. Your body shivered from the winds, yet you beamed at him with the warmth of the fuckin’ sun.

“Simon! What are you doing here?” You chirped out in greeting, clasping your hands together as the bag dangled from your fingers. You waited for him to stalk up to you, broody as ever.

His pretty little songbird, who tweets out her hellos even when the frigid weather demands a more mellow tone.

In his usual unsettling manner, he stops right in front of you. “I live up this way.” He lied.

“Really?! I’ve never seen you coming up this way.” He was so close. He had to crane his neck downwards to look at your face, cheeks and nose probably frozen from the biting wind. Your brows furrowed in what he assumed to be suspicion, and he truly wondered for the first time if you actually had a semblance of survival instinct after all.

Raising a brow, he points to a random building in the distance. He picked something far enough away from your own home to quell any unease.You lived in that reddish-brown building about two blocks away. Though you’ve never told him that.

“Just righ’ up there. Usually don’t go this way, but the other route is closed off.”

Your furrowed brows quickly correct themselves at his words and you assume your resting expression, one much softer. “Well… we might as well head up together then!” You laughed in joy and Simon felt his cock twitch for similar reasons. It seems the concept of “stranger danger” wasn’t drilled into your head hard enough during your formative years.

He’d never dream of doing something to hurt your cheery demeanor, but he couldn’t say the same for others. People can be nasty and, if you survived this long without that bubble being burst, he’d be more than happy to tear apart the prick who’d try. Pricks like your husband.

Wasn’t it a soldier's duty to protect the peace? Something like that anyways.

He noticed the way your poor fingers stiffly held on to the bag, the weight harder to carry because of the chill in the air. His hands itched to help.

You quirked your head to the side due to his lack of anything to say and Simon merely jutted his head towards what you carried, “Give it ‘ere.” Your mouth opens to protest, but Simon doesn’t give you the opportunity as he easily plucks the bag from your hands. “Come on,” He began to walk again while ignoring his bird’s shrill whistles of objection to his help “You’ll catch a cold out ‘ere if we don get’cha inside soon.”

Catching up to his long strides, you approach from the right and sigh. You’re inclined to tell him it’s really not necessary, but the heat that bloomed in your chest as a result of his breathy chuckle interrupted you.

You didn’t even need to ask him to help... he just did.

You couldn’t help the way your eyes wondered about his large frame, and he was huge. You had to admit the first time you had spoken to Simon you were a bit rattled when you stuck your hand out to shake his. It was maddening the way he never made a sound, the way his steps quietly padded along the floor when he went up to the counter at the butcher’s shop to pay.

Occasionally you felt your skin prickle everytime he stood behind you. Whenever you gathered the courage to take a peek you would be met with the sight of him tapping away at his phone without a care, hood of his jacket concealing most of his face.

Though you could’ve sworn his phone was upside down once?

Cars whizzed past and you shook away those thoughts. Simon happens to be a quiet type, nothing to judge him for.

“... Thank you. You know, you’re a real nice guy.” Shoving your hands into the pockets of your jacket, Simon slows his steps just enough to move behind you. “Simon?” You turn your head side-to-side in confusion as he nudges his way to your other side.

“Wha’?” He huffed while putting himself between you and the road.

Odd.

The two of you got closer to the building and in a practiced stop you both pause at the entrance. About to speak again, you’re cut off by the loud ring of your phone. Looking down you see your husband's photo pop up on the screen. With a sigh, you hold up a finger to your companion and answer.

“Hey hun, is something wrong? You said you had a meeting?” You could hear the exhale of annoyance which escaped him before he responded.

“I’m working late tonight. I can’t make it for dinner. Make sure to leave me a plate before you go to bed though.” Of course. He was always late nowadays. One project or another he would say before rolling to face away when you asked him about his day before bed.

You were his wife! You’d make time for him no matter what, and normally you wouldn’t want to be a bother, but the way tears threatened to bead your waterline in frustration caused your voice to harden a fraction.

“Again? Really? They’re working you a bit hard, don’t you thi-”

“I have work. I’ll talk to you later.”

You blink owlishly at Simon who looks back in silence. You hear the beep indicating the call has ended. Slowly, you pull your phone away from your ear both saddened by your husband's cold words but also the humiliation of your new friend witnessing the way you were clearly hung up on by your own spouse.

You wanted to turn heel and retreat into the privacy of your apartment. Cook up a meal which will grow cold on the counter and curl into your bed while incessantly tracking the minutes until you hear the door open.

Simon’s eyes narrowed as if he wanted to burn a hole through your phone, and he waited for you to gather yourself.

“I- um,” letting out an awkward chortle, you scratch the back of your neck. “Looks like I'm alone for dinner tonight.” You managed a disingenuous smile. Simon didn’t seem like the type to be able to pick up on subtle social cues like that, you doubt he’d think anything of your words.

“Well I better get back inside… it's freezing out here. Thanks for your help with my bags I-I just have to get started on cooking right now, so.” You reached for your groceries and saw the strange look in his eyes soften a bit. As you pivot towards the entrance, you hear a gruff call.

“ ‘m pretty hungry righ now.”

…How could you be such an idiot! He carries your bags for you, probably chilled to the point of numbness, and you don’t even invite him in for something to eat. Not even a hot drink. All because of your own selfish discomfort?!

“Oh gosh, that was rude of me. Simon, you wanna come in? I have enough to whip you up a plate if you’d like. A ‘cuppa’ as well. Is that what you say?” You asked.

Simon was a kind man. He was intimidating, but surely it was okay to let him into your personal space. After all, the only person who would object to his presence was currently holed up at his office.

“Brought it up for a reason. That’d be great, love.”

You couldn’t help the way your heart pattered in your rib cage at the endearing pet name. Kind words from a kind man. That’s all. You willed your heart to slow with images of your husband, to whom you had the utmost respect for.

The two of you made your way up to the spacious apartment. You bent over to unlace your shoes and take off your coat. It doesn’t go unnoticed how it took Simon a moment to follow suit. When he stood to his full height, a gentle warmth swelled within you when met with the sight of his broad build in the now seemingly small walls of your home. He looked as though he crowded the room more than any of the furniture.

You felt a bit hazy when you moved to the kitchen. You shouted back to Simon who stood put at the door, “Feel free to make yourself comfortable! Go ahead and sit down anywhere.”

Like a flower, you needed your fix of sunlight. You had lots of windows in your apartment to let the natural light in, a giant one looking into your living room. Simon would see you watching your silly shows, tapping away at your laptop while snuggled under a blanket in this very spot. Soon he’d show you the value of privacy, closing the blinds, locking everything before bed.

There were shady people in the world. Those who’d feed off of your sweet carelessness like it was the best thing to touch their depraved mouths. That wasn’t fair to his bird.

“ ‘m gonna go to the loo.” and before you even had the chance to give him directions, you watched the Brit make his way to the restroom unprompted.

It wasn’t fair, but he would make it fair. He would keep those bastards far away from you, guard your blissful paradise. Keep you ignorant.

So what if his methods were unconventional? So what if he’s followed you home dozens of times. It was to keep you safe. So what if he spent any free time he had watching you through the windows from the building across yours.

Closing the door behind him, his lips quirked up at the sight of your things strewn about. Makeup, hair products, lotions taking up all the space on your side of the sink. In the mirror, his eyes caught on the laundry hamper sat in the corner. He had been here once before.

So what if he has come into your apartment during the late hours just to catch a whiff of your scent. Just to pull the blanket you had knocked off, deep asleep, while on the couch waiting for your prick husband. You needed someone. He could do good by you, or at least try his hardest to.

With practiced ease, he turns to open the hamper. Hands grabbing with the eagerness of unwrapping a present only to be met with a sorry sight.

“For fuck sakes” He whispered.

You and your cleaning. The damn thing had been emptied out of all things with your lovely fragrance, tossed in the wash. With the quick roll of his eyes, he quietly puts the lid back on to the stupid thing.

He had been much luckier last time. After taking it upon himself to sneak in and close a window you left wide open, he had the urge to explore around. Fast forward to when he arrived at his treasure chest (the laundry basket) he was rewarded for his considerate act. He had nabbed a dirty pair of panties with sheer ecstacy.

In the natural progression of things, his cock had hardened with urgency. He had stroked himself eagerly to the thought of your soft, snoozing breaths. A bead of pre-cum already poised to roll down his shaft. You drove him mad, only a few walls separating the two of you. He could walk over to you now, shove your legs apart and sink himself into paradise, in pure euphoria. He continued to jerk himself to the edge of his peak. He had taken in the sight of everything from your loofah to your robe to the pink toothbrush unobtrusively in the corner.

A shiver went down his spine as he looked at the very same toothbrush at present. He wondered how many times you had unassumingly used it since that night.

Images of his desperation flooding back, a hint of something akin to guilt. He had squeezed your panties to his face as if he was trying to suffocate himself, impatiently grabbing for anything else that could connect him to you when he felt himself begin to strain under the stimulation. He had grunted when your scent filled his nostrils, unlike how his balls emptied themselves, his release spurting all over your toothbrush.

When he came back to his senses, he had turned the coated thing over and over in his hand. You’d be none the wiser if he just… washed it off, right? No harm in something you wouldn’t know about. He couldn’t bring himself to do more than lightly run it under the tap.

“Simon! Food is ready!” You shouted. Breaking from his stupor, he steps out of the restroom and moves back to the counter overlooking the kitchen. You gave him that sweet grin while setting the food in front of him.

“Looks delicious, love. Thanks.”

You sat on the seat beside him with a plate of your own. You both tensed at the proximity for the same reason. Taking your first few bites, you look at Simon who blissfully closes his eyes and groans with satisfaction.

That warm feeling begins to simmer in your belly wrongfully so. You turn back to chew before breaking the silence. “I’m glad! It’s been a while since i’ve sat down and ate with someone… it’s a lot different to watch someone actually enjoy something you put effort into.” He didn’t miss the wistful expression you wore. He wanted to fix it, he never wanted to see that pretty mouth fighting stay curved upwards.

Whether it be unknowingly or not, you brushed your knee against and for a moment you both paused in that position. The touch was light but it felt as though Simon’s body was overloaded with only you. Your touch, your eyes, your everything.

It took himself a second to recompose himself, but when he realized your body stayed put; his heart just about soared. Taking another forkful of food, he casually glanced at you and nudged his knee unmistakably to yours. The sound of your cutlery clanging onto the plate gives him a degree of satisfaction.

You simply kept looking down to your plate, whatever was in front of you, anything except his intense stare. Simon was a stranger. Simon was unsettling. Simon was in your home. Simon was so strong, so large he could manhandle you in ways your husband could never.

Your husband. Your life partner who you’ve remained loyal to for years. This was so wrong. You should be leaping out of your chair and separating yourself by 3 meters at least in protest.

So how come you allowed his hand to grip your thigh? You frowned, yet surrendered to his fingers which tilted your face towards him. You didn’t know Simon, but you’d be dense to miss the dark glint in his eyes as he takes in your hesitancy.

How the tables have turned. It was always you who initiated interaction with the morose giant, but as he held you firm in his clutches, you could only sit in wait for his next move.

Testing your reaction, he slowly brought his face closer to yours. Braving his gaze, you could only recognize want. He pressed a gentle kiss to your jaw as you tilted your chin upwards. You weren’t sure whether it was to avoid his lips or grant him better access to your neck.

“No no no come back to me. Come back.” He urged you carding his other hand through your hair, tugging you back. He had to see his bird's face, commit her to memory. Would her expression be like what he imagined? Better?

With a shaky raise of your arm, you caress his face with uncertainty. He needed to fuck you. The most depraved, wicked parts of his mind demanded it. His blood went straight down south at your gentle touch. He needed you to feel him, to feel all of him.

He would protect you from all the perversions those other tossers had to offer, with only one thing in return. To corrupt you from the inside with his own special brand filth. His fingers tightened ever so slightly in your hair.

“I wanna fuck you,” he leaned closer to your ear and nipped it “and I have a feeling my pretty bird wants the same thing, yeah?”

Simon’s words sent a jolt to your brain to sink further into the daze. Your lips parted and you turned to him with round eyes hiding the temptation swirling behind them. Your eyes wildly roved across his face, searching

He carried your things, he called you pretty, he ate your food, he talked to you, he wanted you, he wanted to fuck you, he wanted you to want to fuck him, you want to fuck him, you want to fuck him, you want to fuck him-

His impatience got the better of him when he pulled you into a frantic kiss. His lips were warm and the feeling of his hands holding you secure and upright only added fuel to the fire. How would they hold you when he took you to your bed? Would he be so kind?

Had Simon known your phone would ring loudly moments before finally getting what he wanted, he would have broken it with his own bare hands.

Your eyes cracked open to only be met with the sight of your husband’s contact photo and all at once your guilt hurtled at you. Sensing you pulling away, Simon couldn’t help but try and keep you to him for even a moment longer. He knew it was over when you pushed at his chest to break the connection.

“I’m- oh my gosh. I… i’m a horrible person! Shit! Shit!” You spiraled as you hurriedly got up from your seat and backed away from Simon as if his touch had burned you.

“Hey, hey it’s okay-” He attempted to console you, but was sharply interrupted with a tone he had yet to hear from you.

“No, no! You need to leave. Get out, please!” You screeched in shame. As Simon once again tried to approach closer to placate you, you only put a hand up with a hard look. “Leave. We shouldn’t have done that, it was a total betrayal of trust!”

“Okay. Okay. Don’t worry, ‘m gone.” His arms went up in surrender as he mirrored your own backward movements.

Your mind really went blank as you took deep breaths to calm yourself, Simon’s heavy footfalls receding and eventually fading from earshot entirely.

While you focused on calming yourself from your “mistaken” judgement, Simon could only think of one thing.

If his bird couldn’t be happy because that fuckin’ asshole was still in the picture, he’d have to weed out the problem from the root.

He was a dead man walking.

#simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley #simon riley x you #cod fanfic #ghost mw2 #ghost x reader #ghost cod

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suksatoru · 2 months ago

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sixth sense! ⋆˚୨♡୧˚⋆ rin itoshi x you

rin itoshi has a very special skill, one where he can predict when you're about to spew absolute nonsense. he says he has a sixth sense reserved just for your antics, and he also swears you're going to be the reason he has a full head of gray hair before he turns twenty.

"rinnie," you try again—pouting when rin exhales sharply from his nose, refusing to meet your gaze. rin sits on the ground at the end of his bed, and you sit perched on top of his blankets—hanging your head upside down to stare at him like the cheshire cat.

"no." he replies, short and curt as you drape yourself over his shoulder with a sigh. he shifts the slightest bit so you can comfortably curl your head against his form. you nose at his throat before speaking up again, quieter this time.

"pretty please? it's really all i want, rinnie. it would make my day—no, my life! please?"

rin thought you were the idiot in this relationship, but he knows he's the real lovesick fool. it wasn't impossible to say no, he says it to other people all the time. but your eyes are hopeful and round. and truthfully, the sight of your frown was truly his undoing.

rin lets out a dramatic sigh, loud and annoyed—and you know he accepts his defeat when he hands you his hair brush with a grumble. you roll off of the bed, sitting criss cross on the ground across him in an instant as you grab the nearby rubber bands laying on the floor with a dopey grin

"you just relax while i work rinnie! i promise, you won't even know i'm here!"

rin's deadpan expression only makes you laugh quietly, and you lean forward to place a gentle peck onto his lips. you hover over his mouth after pulling away an inch, taking a moment to admire his face before grinning

"grumpy," you muse as you gently brush your nose against his. rin mumbles something about you knowing nothing about personal space as he tugs you onto his lap

"if i'm bald by the end of this—"

"oooh rinnie your hair's so soft! i'm stealing your shampoo later," you interrupt with a giggle, pressing soft kisses onto the crown of his head as his shoulders slump. his broody expression is far too adorable to not kiss, and after peppering enough kisses onto his cheeks to leave them tinted pink—you get to work.

rin doesn't know why you want to style his hair. he regards your sparkly pink hair clips with an eye roll. but your fingers are gentle and soothing as they work to brush and style his hair, and he can feel the exhaustion slowly dispersing from his muscles as he leans into your touch.

"it feels...nice. thank you," he murmurs softly, gently rubbing your thigh as you hum in response. he moves to take a glance at you, and his heart skips a beat when he sees your tongue poked out in concentration as you work on tying his hair. cute.

it takes another fifteen minutes for you to finish your assault on his head. rin's practically putty beneath your fingers now, and there's a barely visible furrow between his brows when you pull your touch away from him.

"you look like a prince... you should totally let me style your hair more often, rinnie!" you gush, smiling softly as you admire your work on him.

"i'll be the judge of that," he mutters with a small smile, reaching onto his bed to grab your phone. he bites the inside of his cheek to keep himself from smiling when he sees your wallpaper being his back and jersey number, but the smile is wiped off his face in an instant as he lets out a startled yelp—staring at his reflection in the camera app.

"yeah. not happening, you cheeky brat." he scoffs, pointing at his head with a scowl

"y/n, tell me where you got five hundred charms of hello kitty clips... what damned store did you rob? and why are there pink extensions in my hair? are they—is that fucking glitter in them?"

rin eventually fell victim to a photoshoot, though he shouldn't be surprised. did he really think he'd escape you that easily? he's not very amused by your new wallpaper of him afterwards, but he can't even try and stop the amusement glimmering in his emerald eyes.

"not a soul will see those pictures. or i swear, i'll stick you in a gold fish tank y/n." rin mutters later that night as you two lay in bed, pressing feather soft kisses onto your shoulder blades as he silently admires the way your lips jut out in an adorable pout. his threat isn't very scary when he holds you like you're the most precious thing in his life, but you nod anyway.

"okay," you sigh in defeat. rin's eyes narrow suspiciously as he wraps his arms around your waist, settling in for the night as he turns off his bedside lamp.

"night, y/n." he whispers gently, his lashes brushing against your cheek as he kisses you softly. your hand gently brushes his bangs away from his eyes, and his face softens at your giggles

"night, rinnie. tomorrow you can style my hair! and then, we can be twins..." you affirm quietly. it's dark in the room, the night outside blanketing you two. there's a sliver of moonlight pouring through the window, and it's the only reason you're able to see the gentle smile on rin's face before you fall asleep.

blue lock masterlist :P

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surftrips · 1 year ago

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ABOUT YOU | LUKE CASTELLAN

pairing: luke castellan x aphrodite!reader

request: luke x reader fluff w like an aphrodite!reader? reader is all sunshine and flowers and makes luke all soft/campers teasing luke abt the way reader changed him 🤭

word count: 1.6k

a/n: this is probably my favorite luke fic that i've written so far thank u so much anon for sending this request in! writing aphrodite!reader is so much fun, i'm such a sucker for the opposites trope. hope you all enjoy 🤍

You were the human embodiment of sunshine, a real life angel. Gentle, kind, and lovely— in other words, the complete and total opposite of Luke Castellan. He was dark and broody, strong and rough, and not totally unfriendly, but definitely intimidating.

But even if you weren’t the daughter of Aphrodite, Luke believed that you would still be just as beautiful. There was something in the way you carried yourself that had made his heart surrender the second he laid eyes on you. You became the one and only exception in his long list of grievances.

So it came as no surprise to anyone at camp when the two of you started dating, just to the dismay of many of your admirers and a few of Luke’s as well. If there was one thing you had in common, it was your beauty. With his puppy dog eyes and curly brown hair, Luke was a sight for sore eyes, almost as much as you were.

One day, you were walking hand in hand when one of the younger campers accidentally bumped into Luke. On any other occasion, Luke might have started an altercation, but today, he simply smiled and said, “Just be careful next time.” The camper stared at him, wide-eyed and shocked into place as you softly giggled.

“What?” he smiled, looking over at you as the kid took it as an opportunity to run away.

“Nothing,” you mused. “Just that I think you’re getting soft, Luke Castellan.” You poked a finger at his chest playfully.

“What?” he shook his head. “No, I’m not.”

Though he attempts to keep a serious face, you could see the amusement in his eyes. He often looked at you like this, ready to go along with anything you said— no matter how silly or whimsical your remarks.

“Okay, lover boy. Whatever you say,” you shrugged, offering him a kiss on his cheek that instantly causes color to rush into his face. Ignoring that he’s just proven your point, he attempts to hide his expression by seeking solace in the crook of your neck. He would never admit it to anyone, but he often thought his favorite place at camp was the spot in between your jaw and collarbone.

Even though most of the campers were still a little frightened by the idea of approaching Luke, his closest friends were not afraid to speak their minds.

“Dude, you’re like, totally whipped for her,” Percy remarked over lunch once.

“And you’re like, totally fourteen years old,” Luke said.

“I think the fourteen year old’s right,” Chris jumped in.

“Dude! I thought you were supposed to have my back,” Luke throws up his arms in mock aggravation.

The two boys snickered, causing Luke to speak up again. “I am not whipped for Y/N.”

“Oh, sure,” Chris began. “So the reason you’re practically skipping around camp and letting whatever team Aphrodite cabin is in win Capture the Flag is because…?”

“Oh, and don’t forget the constant checking his phone to see if she texted back and sharing his blanket with her at the campfire!” Percy pointed out. “Meanwhile, I’m over here freezing…”

“Maybe,” Luke scrambled to come up with an answer. “Maybe, I was just in a really good mood those days. It could have absolutely nothing to do with Y/N.”

He barely believed the words himself, and Chris and Percy were certainly not convinced. Luke wasn’t even sure why he felt the need to defend himself.

“Dude, it’s okay if you are, she’s literally your girlfriend,” Chris said.

“Hey! I have an idea, let’s ask Annabeth!” Percy declared.

“Annabeth? Why her?” Luke furrowed his brow.

“Because, she’s a girl. And she’s known you the longest, she can give us a real answer,” Percy said matter-of-factly.

Luke thought it over. The young boy was technically right, Annabeth was like a little sister to him. If anyone could tell if he had changed since dating you, it would be her. This came as both a good and bad realization to him, because what if he had changed? Gods, was it that obvious?

Before he could agree to asking Annabeth, the young girl was already at their table. Percy must have called her over while Luke was thinking.

“What’s up?” she asked, sitting down across from him with her plate of food.

“Oh, nothing, just talking about how soft Luke has gotten since he started dating Y/N,” Chris explained with a grin on his face.

“Oh?” Annabeth said, seemingly amused.

“Yeah, we actually wanted to get your opinion,” Percy continued. “Would you say you agree or disagree, that you know, Luke is nicer now that he’s with Y/N?”

Annabeth seemed to think it over for a second. “Gods, you guys are such children,” she scoffed.

“Thank you!” Luke cut in.

“I mean, all of you,” she looked at Luke pointedly. “Why do you care what a bunch of kids think about you anyway? And not that it matters, but you, Castellan, are most definitely whipped for Y/N.”

That shut Luke up immediately, and caused cheers to erupt from Chris and Percy, who were clapping each other on their backs as if they had just won Capture the Flag.

Annabeth smiled and shrugged her shoulders, as if to say “Sorry, Luke. It’s true.”

Later that night, Luke snuck over to the Aphrodite Cabin to find you. You were surprised when Luke woke you up, it had been a while since he came seeking your comfort in the middle of the night. He used to have bad nightmares, but you noticed he had gotten better since you started dating. You’d like to think it was because of you, but perhaps that would be thinking too highly of yourself.

In an effort to clear his mind, you suggested to go on a walk together. He agreed, and you climbed out of bed as quietly as you could.

You allowed him a few minutes of silence until his heavy breathing had slowed down and his grip on your hand had loosened.

“What’s on your mind, hon?” you asked softly.

Luke didn’t respond at first, distracting himself by tracing the lines on the palm of your hand. You were happy to give him as much time as he needed, placing your other hand on his back and gently drawing circles.

After a while, he did speak up. “Uhm, do you think that I’m, like, unapproachable?”

Your heart sank and you stopped in your tracks. “What makes you say that?”

“I don’t know, it’s just something that’s been on my mind recently.”

“Luke, is this about what I said to you the other day? Because I didn’t mean it like that—”

“No, baby,” he rushed. The last thing he wanted was for you to think you had done something wrong. He wasn’t sure that you could ever do wrong, not in his eyes. “I was just talking to Percy and Chris at lunch today and they were kind of teasing me.”

You couldn’t help but giggle at the thought of your boyfriend, Mr. Tough Guy, being teased by a few kids younger than him. “I’m sorry, babe. Continue,” you placed a supportive hand on his chest as you regained your composure.

“They said that I’ve changed since we started dating.”

Though you were an expert in human emotion, there were still times you couldn’t read the expression on Luke’s face. You couldn’t tell if he thought of this as a bad thing, or if he was just curious to see what you thought. You decided on the latter. “Changed how so?”

“They think I’m soft now because I’m always in a good mood and stuff…” he trailed off. Even now, in the dark of the night, you could tell he was blushing.

“Well,” you started, trying to find the right words. “You know, I was just teasing you the other day, babe. I think you’ve always been this way.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, I think you’ve always been a giant teddy bear,” you grinned, unable to contain yourself. “Luke, you’re not as bad as everyone thinks you are.”

By now, both of you had stopped walking. Ever since Luke arrived at camp, he had been characterized as the tough, stony, and slightly antagonistic guy. All because of a scar he carried and the stories of what he had gone through with Annabeth and Thalia. Many people were still intimidated by him, despite his position as the counselor in Hermes and his job to welcome newcomers. It had been so long, he wasn’t sure if this was the way he was, or the way that he was made to be.

As if reading his thoughts, you said, “You don’t have to be what they tell you to be. Do you know the words I use to describe you when someone asks me about you?”

Unable to speak, Luke simply shook his head.

“Gentle, kind, and lovely.”

Luke wasn’t sure what he was expecting, but certainly nothing close to the words you had chosen. “You do not,” he objected.

“I'm serious, baby,” you placed your hands on his cheeks and pulled him in until your foreheads were touching. “I think you’re the most wonderful and caring guy I’ve ever met. I think you always have been, you just don’t always show it.”

He stared at you intently before pulling a loose strand of hair out of your face. You kissed the top of his head, “I must be one lucky girl.”

“Hey, if there’s one thing I’m sure about, it’s that I’m the lucky one,” he said, before pulling you in for a kiss.

#luke castellan #luke castellan x reader #percy jackson series #percy jackson #pjo #charlie bushnell #charlie bushnell x reader #luke castellan imagine #percy jackson x reader #pjo x you #luke castellan x you

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alinathinkstoomuch · 12 days ago

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1-800-CALL ME, FAKE FIANCÉ

pairing: aaron hotchner x reader summary: (part of my mini fake-fiancé series) the fbi agent you met at the bar helped you out of a jam so you decide to pay him a visit at work. warnings | a/n: unhinged reader, rossi being a lil instigator, reader has no shame in her game at ALL & makes the first move, the usual banter & chem, channelling all the rom-com feels word count: 3.3k

✧ masterlist | first part can be found here

It had been a week since your little fake fiancé fiasco, and while it had been enough to satisfy your mob group of fake friends and stop them from asking questions, it wasn’t enough to satisfy your questions.

Because now, you were curious – dangerously so.

You couldn’t concentrate on much else. It was ridiculous. Absurd. Completely unnecessary. And yet��

You had googled him.

You had googled Aaron Hotchner.

And oh boy did you find things.

FBI Unit Chief Aaron Hotchner. Head of some ultra-serious-sounding department in behavioural analysis. There were articles. Court cases. Mentions of serial killers – plural. You even found a grainy news clip of him giving a statement outside a police station, looking all important and broody.

And as if that wasn’t enough, there were forums. Entire internet threads dedicated to the man. Debates on how often he smiled. Speculation on his past. A truly unhinged corner of the internet where a small but passionate group of people seemed convinced he had once been a male model.

You may or may not have spent a questionable amount of time scrolling through that last one.

But none of this answered the real question: why did an FBI Unit Chief go along with your ridiculous fake fiancé charade without hesitation? That was not normal federal agent behaviour. You were pretty sure actual government employees had policies against indulging unhinged strangers.

Which led you here. More specifically in the FBI headquarters parking lot.

Okay, you were actually insane. But you had good intentions. Intentions of thanking him properly for the night of madness he had endured.

So, you had baked him cookies. Because, according to your mother, the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach – which was a wildly inappropriate saying to be applying to an FBI agent, but here you were.

You took a deep breath, staring up at the intimidating glass doors, clutching your box of cookies like it was a ticking time bomb. This was fine. Completely normal. People brought cookies to law enforcement all the time… right?

Swallowing your nerves, you marched inside, heels clicking against the polished floor as you approached the receptionist’s desk. The woman behind the counter barely glanced up as she typed away at her computer.

“Hi! Uh, could you do me a favour and give these to an Aaron Hotchner?” you asked, setting the box down with a nervous smile. “He’s, um, Unit Chief of something very official and serious, which I’m sure you already know, but I just wanted to thank him because he helped me out of a situation – not like a legal situation, nothing weird, I’m not a criminal or anything – oh my God, that sounded suspicious –”

The receptionist finally looked up, blinking slowly. “Ma’am?”

You let out an awkward laugh, waving a hand. “I mean, technically, everyone is a criminal in some way, right? Like, who hasn’t jaywalked or taken a pen from a bank? Oh my God, I’m not confessing to anything, I just –”

“Ma’am,” the receptionist interrupted, her voice flat. “Are you delivering something, or…?”

“Wow, you guys are really strict on the whole professionalism thing, huh?” You huffed, then quickly corrected yourself. “Not that I’m not professional. I can be professional. I wore a blazer once.” You paused, glancing at her name badge. “Clarissa! I am delivering cookies. They are divine, you can have one if you’d like?”

Clarissa squinted at you, clearly debating whether or not to press a panic button – one that, realistically, would probably result in you being swarmed by tactical agents in full riot gear.

Was that even the FBI? Or was that, like… SWAT? Was SWAT part of the FBI? Were you about to go down for cookie-related crimes?

“Are you cleared to be here?” she asked.

“Depends on your definition of cleared –”

“Alright, sweetheart, let’s take a breath before you actually incriminate yourself.”

You spun around to find none other than David – if you recalled correctly – standing behind you, looking just as entertained as he did back at the jazz bar, his eyes bouncing between the cookies and you. “Well, well. If it isn’t Hotch’s fiancée.”

“Not his fiancée anymore!”

“Sure. And I’m not Italian.”

You shook your head, exhaling dramatically. “I just made him some cookies as a thank you. Do you mind passing them on to him, please? And then I can get out of yours and Clarissa’s hair. You have fabulous hair, both of you, by the way.”

Clarissa stared at you like you were personally responsible for every inconvenience that had ever befallen her. Rossi, on the other hand, grinned like you had just made his entire day.

“You know what? No,” he said, shaking his head. “You should give them to him yourself.”

Your stomach dropped. “Oh, no, that’s not necessary –”

“I insist.”

Clarissa folded her arms. “She’s not authorised to be here.”

Rossi rolled his eyes. “Clarissa, I’ve worked in this building longer than some agents have been alive. If I say she’s authorised, she’s authorised.”

Clarissa let out a long-suffering sigh but didn’t argue further.

“Come on, sweetheart. Let’s go surprise Hotch.”

You let out a weak laugh. “Oh. Yay.”

Rossi led you through security and about four different hallways before you found yourself in an elevator. You barely had time to process what was happening before you were stepping into a bullpen that made your brain go fuzzy. There were far too many people in suits, all looking intimidatingly competent.

A woman with blonde hair and a bright cardigan – finally someone who understood the power of colour – shot you an intrigued glance over the top of her glasses.

“I really don’t think this is necessary, David,” you whispered. “You guys look like busy, busy people, and I just wanted to bring some cookies. I don’t think Hotch will appreciate being called out of his very legitimate FBI career just for me.”

“Oh, I know he won’t.”

“Okay, now you’re making me panic, and I have a habit of jumping to conclusions when I’m under a lot of stress. Please, really, it’s no big deal –”

“Yeah, Hotch mentioned something along those lines,” Rossi hummed as the two of you came to a halt in front of a door, to which he knocked before stepping inside.

You followed hesitantly, barely making it over the threshold before you locked eyes with Hotch, who was standing behind his desk, looking very confused.

Rossi gestured at you grandly. “Look who I found wandering the FBI headquarters.”

“Okay, that makes me sound like a stalker and – wow, okay, I guess maybe I am a stalker, but the good kind, I promise! I come in peace. And with cookies… as a thank you.”

“I’ll leave you two lovebirds to it,” Rossi grinned, giving you a nudge as he sauntered out, shutting the door behind him with far too much enthusiasm.

Hotch, still staring at you like you had just crash-landed into his office from another dimension, slowly folded his arms. “Should I be concerned?”

“Not until you try one of these,” you said, flipping open the lid of the cookie box, only for your smile to falter the second you actually registered what was inside.

Heart-shaped cookies. Pink frosting. Extra sprinkles.

Oh no.

You stared at them. Then at Hotch. Then back at them.

He was still staring too, looking at the cookies like they were an active FBI case file he wasn’t quite sure how to classify.

You let out half a laugh. “Oh. Oh, boy.”

Hotch raised a brow, arms still crossed, looking every bit the intimidating federal agent he was.

“Okay, I know what this looks like,” you groaned, snapping the box shut like that would somehow undo the visual catastrophe. “I got slightly carried away – as I tend to – and my mind just kind of… took its own course when I was making them. I wasn’t thinking about you – well, I was thinking about you, but not like that, I swear. I just – ugh – I put a little bit myself into them.”

Hotch tilted his head. “Yourself?”

You nodded, slowly reopening the box as if the cookies might suddenly jump out and throw up edible glitter all over his office. “You know… they’re kind of chaotic but well-intentioned, possibly too much but ultimately harmless –”

“How did you find me here?”

“Oh. That.”

He just stared at you.

You cleared your throat, suddenly very interested in the cookie box. “Well, it’s not that hard, you know? I have a great memory, and I did get a pretty solid look at your badge – after I thought you were going to murder me, of course – so I just… searched you up.”

His brows lifted.

You panicked. “But only to figure out where you work so I could bring you cookies! That’s it! I had every intention of leaving them with Clarissa but your friend David saw me and said I should bring them up myself. And well… now I’m here.”

Hotch’s hand pinched the bridge of his nose. “Of course he did.”

You rocked on your heels, watching him carefully. “Sooo… does this mean I’m officially on an FBI watchlist, or is that, like, a separate process?”

Hotch exhaled, lowering his hand. “You’re not on a watchlist.”

“Oh.”

His brows furrowed. “Would you like to be?”

“I feel like I shouldn’t answer that without a lawyer present,” you mumbled, setting the cookies down on his desk.

“So, let me get this straight. You looked me up, managed to talk your way into a federal building without authorisation all just to bring me heart-shaped cookies?”

You lifted a finger. “Okay, first of all, let’s not make this sound like an obsession – I googled you. That’s a normal thing people do! It’s called being informed. And second, the hearts were an accident. I only had one cookie cutter. You think I wanted to show up here looking like some lovesick lunatic?”

Hotch glanced at the cookies, then back at you. “…Yes.”

“Okay, well, this has been fun,” you said, dusting your hands before adjusting your jacket. “Enjoy the cookies, and thanks again for the other night,” you continued, already backing toward the door. “I have not had my name mentioned once in the Veronica Posse group chat since, and for the first time in years, I have actually known peace.”

“Wait,” he called just as you reached for the door handle. You spun around to face him. “Why did you really come here?”

You paused before speaking.

“I need a fiancé again,” you blurted out before you could stop yourself. “Yup. Need one again, preferably the same one, but this time it’s my parents hounding me, and they’ve already arranged a dinner and everything.”

Hotch opened his mouth, then closed it. A second passed. Then another. Finally – “You’re joking, aren’t you?”

“I am,” you beamed, completely unbothered by the scowl on his face. Hotch looked like he was about to reply, but his phone began ringing. He glanced down at it on the desk.

“Alright, really leaving now. I’ll let you get back to all this serious business,” you said, but then a realization dawned, making you pause.

Hotch looked back up, brows raising slightly. “What is it?”

You shifted, glancing toward the door, then back at him. “So, funny thing… I don’t actually know how to get out of here.”

Hotch sighed, shaking his head as he pressed a button to silence his phone before slipping it into his suit jacket. “I’ll walk you out.”

“Oh, no need,” you replied quickly, waving him off. “I’ll just ask David – he loves helping me.”

Hotch gave you a flat look. “Absolutely not.”

You blinked innocently. “Why? He was so excited to see me earlier. You should have heard him, all like Oh, if it isn’t Hotch’s fiancée! He really sells it.”

“That’s exactly why,” Hotch muttered, already moving toward the door.

You followed Hotch out of his office, barely managing to keep up with his long strides. “Wow, you walk fast,” you huffed, adjusting your purse on your shoulder. “Is this an FBI thing? Do you all just power walk everywhere?”

He slowed his pace ever so slightly so you could catch up. As you glanced around, you noticed several pairs of eyes discreetly watching the two of you – one of them being David who had zero shame in making his interest known. You offered him a small wave to which he responded with a not-so-subtle wink. When your eyes landed on Hotch he was watching the exchange.

“Keep walking.”

“I am,” you whispered back, trying not to laugh. “I just happen to also be social.”

“That’s unfortunate.”

You gasped, doing a light two step jog to catch up. “Gosh, what happened to ‘Marry me, sweetheart?’”

“You called it nonsense, remember?”

“I did,” you admitted. “But that was after you said something that was incredibly true about me.”

Hotch threw you a curious glance. “And what was that?”

“That I’m too good to consider that group of women my friends, especially ones I feel the need to impress.”

Hotch didn’t say anything right away, just reached for the door, pushing it open and holding it for you. As you stepped past him, you caught the smallest trace of something in his expression, something very close to approval.

Stepping into the hallway, you glanced around, already feeling disoriented. “This place is like a maze,” you muttered, spinning in a small circle before looking back at him. “How do you manage to not get lost here?”

“Spatial awareness.”

Before you could question him further, you felt his heads on your arms, gently guiding you to the left just as you were about to head right.

“Oh. Wow. Okay.”

His lips twitched. “You were about to walk into a closet.”

You glanced back at the door you had almost pushed open. “That’s not a closet. That’s –” You squinted at the sign. “Okay, that’s definitely a closet.” You sighed dramatically, walking ahead this time – making sure to pretend like you totally knew where you were going. “See? This is why I need a fake fiancé. Navigation assistance.”

His voice followed you, dry as ever. “That’s what Google Maps is for.”

You turned, walking backwards now, arms crossed. “Yeah, well, Google Maps doesn’t have your spatial awareness, does it?”

“You’d rather rely on me for directions?”

You stopped walking, tilting your head. “Huh. Good point. Maybe I should just take my chances with the closet.”

Hotch sighed, stepping past you. “Come on. I’ll make sure you get out of here without accidentally locking yourself in a supply room.”

You grinned, following him. “See? Fake fiancé duties are still active.”

This time, you definitely didn’t miss the half-smile he tried to hide.

After what felt like literal hours of navigating the endless, identical floors and hallways of the FBI, the two of you finally stepped outside. Freedom at last, you thought, basking in the sight of the actual sun – something you’d only glimpsed through windows you were convinced had some kind of tint designed to make the inside of the building feel even duller.

“Do you know where you parked?”

You scoffed, waving a dismissive hand. “Uh, duh. What do you take me for?”

Hotch just looked at you.

You blinked.

Then, very slowly, you turned your head, scanning the parking lot.

Oh, no.

Where did you park?

You wracked your brain, desperately trying to retrace your steps, but the problem was… you hadn’t exactly been focused when you arrived. You had just parked somewhere and hoped for the best. But now, with Hotch watching you like a disapproving parent, the pressure was on.

You pointed vaguely toward a random row of cars. “It’s… that way.”

Hotch didn’t even bother looking. “No, it’s not.”

You spun back to him. “Excuse me?”

“You’re guessing.”

“I am not.”

“You’re stalling.”

“I am not!”

Hotch arched a single, knowing brow.

You huffed. “Fine. I may be stalling. But in my defence, I had a lot on my mind when I got here!”

Hotch inhaled, glancing at his watch. “Just describe what your car looks like and what you remember seeing when you got here.”

You frowned, thinking. “Okay, so, my car is… car-shaped.”

His stare was unmoving.

You cleared your throat. “It’s, uh… blue. Or, like, bluish. Depends on the lighting.”

“Anything else?”

You squinted at the parking lot, hoping for divine intervention. “I think I was near… a pole?”

“There are multiple poles.”

“A very specific pole.”

“Right.”

You groaned, rubbing your temples. “Ugh, this is so unfair. I have many talents, okay? Parking lot navigation is just not one of them.”

“Shocking,” he muttered before moving toward one section of the parking lot. “Let’s start from here.”

You followed, chewing the inside of your cheek.

A few minutes later – after much grumbling, a completely unnecessary debate about why all parking lots look the same, and one slightly humiliating moment where you tried to unlock someone else’s car – Hotch finally spotted your actual vehicle.

“Would you look at that! There she is, in all her glory!” you sang and this time, when you hit the unlock button, the lights actually flashed. Progress.

You pulled open the driver’s side door and tossed your purse inside before turning back to Hotch. “Thank you… again.” You let out a laugh. “It feels like that’s all I ever say to you.”

Hotch gave a small shrug, hands finding his pockets. “You do seem to require a lot of rescuing.”

“Alright, alright.” You pointed a manicured finger at him. “Despite what you might think, I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself. I just happen to have a mild navigational deficiency and… questionable taste in men. And friends, apparently – according to my ex fake fiancé.”

“Sounds like you’re finally learning.”

You rolled your eyes, sliding into your seat. “I hate that you’re good at this.”

“Good at what?”

“Reading people.” You gestured vaguely in his direction. “It’s very annoying.”

He smiled at you, one hand slipping from his pocket to rest against the edge of your car door. “I’ll try to be worse at my job next time.”

You leaned forward, placing your arms on the steering wheel with a playful spark in your eye. “Listen, Hotch, Hotchner, Aaron – I have a slight confession to make before I go.”

“That sentence doesn’t exactly inspire confidence.”

“This one’s harmless. Promise.”

Hotch stood there, shaking his head like he could not believe he was still standing there entertaining this conversation.

You tapped a finger against the wheel. “So, if mid-cookie bite you accidentally choke on a piece of paper, do not be alarmed – well, actually do be alarmed. I don’t want you to die before you’ve asked me out on a date.” You flashed him a pointed look. “But it’s my number – since apparently, having my address isn’t enough.”

“You hid your number in food?”

“Listen, it was either that or carve it into your desk with a knife, and I figured that would raise some concerns with your co-workers.”

Hotch pinched the bridge of his nose again, muttering something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like why me?

“But, you do have my number now, so really, the ball is in your court, Hotchner.”

“Is it?”

You nodded, sitting up straighter. “Mhm. And just so we’re clear – I expect a dramatic, over-the-top use of it. Maybe a cryptic, we need to talk text. Or a mysterious meet me at midnight type of situation.”

Hotch’s lips twitched. “You’d rather I text you about urgent matters than, say… just a normal conversation?”

“Aaron Hotchner, are you saying you want to have a normal conversation with me?”

He sighed, stepping back from your car. “Drive home, before I change my mind about letting you leave.”

You smirked, finally turning on the ignition. “Oh, so you let me leave now? That is so controlling of you.”

Hotch shook his head as he shut your door—just in time for you to lift a hand, making a finger phone gesture and mouthing Call me.

tags - @fandomscombine @dohmeti

divider by cafekitsune

#aaron hotch x reader #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner fanfiction #aaron hotchner one shot #criminal minds #hotch #ssa aaron hotchner #Spotify

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kingkat12 · 7 months ago

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pornography (eric draven x reader)

WARNINGS: 18+, foul language, groping/fondling, dry-humping lol, mentions of substance abuse

summary: when you finally talk to Eric Draven in rehab, it doesn't take long before you get drawn together by a force stronger than anything you have ever encountered. it doesn’t help the situation that you eventually find out Eric has been drawing pictures of you… nude

word count: 2,337 PART 1, PART 2, PART 3

a/n: this is for all the girlies like me that just came home from watching The Crow and got their mind blown by how hot Bill was in it... holy fuck. had to write this blurb because I am so shaken up, I can't feel my face. enjoy!! there will be more parts hihi...

"I fucking hate pink,"

I couldn't believe that was the first thing I said to him-- the dark and broody stranger I had been eyeing through my first few weeks in rehab. He stared back at me, confusion swimming in his big green eyes, probably pondering why I had sat down next to him in the cafeteria. "Pardon?"

"It's a little ridiculous," I tried, watching as he put down his cutlery, pushing his food away as he gave me his full attention. Tugging at my pink sweater, which we were all wearing, I let out a nervous chuckle. "Whose idea was it to put a lot of addicts in pink, anyway?"

My eyes darted down to his hands as I waited for his answer-- they were huge up close, and completely covered in tattoos. I hadn't noticed them from afar; I had only noticed the ones peeking through the top of his shirt when he would pass me by in the hall, or the big eye he had on his chest that I had seen while passing by his room. I knew it wasn't nice to peek into his room while he was changing, but I was quite frankly starved of any male contact-- any girl would go crazy in here.

He eventually shrugged, giving me the answer I least expected; "I guess pink is supposed to be a calming colour. It's not that bad," I watched as the corners of his mouth tugged upwards, giving away hints of amusement. "Aren't you girls supposed to like pink?"

"Maybe," I mumbled, nudging food around on my plate with my fork. "I just don't like to wear it. It doesn't suit me."

The handsome stranger didn't seem to agree, another shrug following accompanied by a shy laugh. "I can't figure out whether you're being sincere or searching for compliments,"

This was most definitely not how I wanted to come off. I straightened up, resting my elbows against the table as I cleared my throat. "I'm just trying to make conversation,"

"... Why?"

"Because you've been staring at me almost as much as I've been staring at you," I put down my fork, hoping he didn't see how nervous I was. In truth, he had been staring-- it wasn't all purely one-sided. I had caught him staring at me in the courtyard, on my way to the shower, and I had also caught him lingering outside my room several times. He would usually leave when I came out, disappearing down the hall with speed I wouldn't even dream to catch up with.

He finally gave in to a smirk, nodding to himself as he lowered his head. "Sorry," It was clear that he hadn't thought he'd be called out like this. However, something told me he wasn't too upset about being caught either.

"Don't be," I said, feeling my anxiety ripping through my veins. Why was I indulging? "I just--"

It was at this moment that a guard appeared behind him, yanking him away from the table with a harshness that made me gasp. I clasped my hand over my mouth, watching as he barely reacted to the brutality.

"Guys and girls eat separately!" the guard yelled at me, slamming his fist down on the table.

My eyes widened, looking back at the handsome stranger. "But I-- I was the one who sat down here, he didn't do anything!" I protested, watching as the guard grabbed him and led him away. Groaning, I ran my hands through my hair, frustrated with the rules at this place. Why was it so fucking strict?

I eventually looked up just in time to see that the man had managed to turn around, smirking my way; "I'm Eric!" he said, holding back a laugh as he was shoved along the cafeteria for everyone to see.

Despite the horror washing over me for getting him in trouble, I managed to croak out my name as well. It seemed that he appreciated that I had at least tried to stick up for him-- What was it that I had just started?

My question would be answered a lot quicker than I had expected.

A few days passed, and more looks and stares were exchanged. I was dying to talk to Eric again. I knew I hadn't been sent to rehab to make friends or get feelings for someone, but something was gnawing at me to talk to him again. I wanted to be around him constantly; what was happening to me? I recognized this feeling-- it was the same feeling I got when I really, really craved something... Fuck, how I missed drugs. Maybe Eric was turning into a substitute?

It wasn't often that the door to Eric's room was open, but today it was. I wouldn't have noticed it if I hadn't taken the extra lap around the institute as usual, hoping to get a glimpse of him through the small window in his door. But today, I didn't have to get on my tippytoes to get a look-- there he was, picking up several drawings that had been scattered around the floor. His room looked like a mess, completely unlike how I was used to seeing it through the tiny window. This looked like the result of one of those raids that the prison guards sometimes did when they suspected there were hidden drugs in a patient's room.

I felt sorry for him; I knew how horrible it could feel to have someone rip through all your stuff. But as I bent down and picked up a few drawings that were at my feet, my lips parted in surprise.

It seemed I wasn't the only one caught off guard; Eric noticed me standing in his doorway, letting out a relieved sigh as he watched me inspect his drawings. He called out my name, leaning against the wall as he sized me up and scanned me, crossing his arms over his chest.

I cleared my throat; "Is this... me?" I held up the first drawing of the bunch. It was a sketch of me sitting in the courtyard, and I was sure that it was me-- I suppose it was my shock asking for confirmation.

Eric snickered, kicking off the wall. "Yeah... Sorry,"

"Stop saying sorry," I shuffled through the drawings, finding he had drawn me in multiple settings, and it was clear that I had been watched the few weeks I'd been here. "These are beautiful, Eric... I guess I'm honoured--" My words trailed off as I finally approached the last drawing. Was that...?

He didn't even try to take it away from me. Eric sighed, looking away as his cheeks flushed a light pink, similar to our uniforms.

Judging by his reaction, I had a feeling he wasn't so against me seeing this. It was a sketch of me, after all-- nude.

I had to swallow rather hard for anything to go down. I couldn't pinpoint why I wasn't absolutely horrified at this. "So... this is what you've been up to in here, huh?" There was no stopping the smirk that spread across my lips, holding back a flustered giggle. "This is next-level pervy, do you know that?"

It didn't take long before Eric's big hands ripped the drawings out of my hands, turning away as he shook his head. "Every artist needs a muse, no?"

"A muse? How can I be your muse if we don't know each other?"

"That's not how it works," he mumbled, throwing away the drawings into a heap on the bed. "Your beauty is all I need to get inspired."

This was enough to shock me into silence. I inhaled a sharp breath, stepping into Eric's room despite knowing it was forbidden. "So now you think I'm beautiful?"

Eric hummed, finally turning to meet my eyes. "It hasn't been the biggest secret, has it?" There was something playful about him, shameless, as though it didn't matter to him that I had just found his handmade porn. "It gets a little lonely in here, I guess. These drawings just... run out of me like water. Can't control it."

There was something so unimaginably tantalizing about Eric. Everything about him made me want to jump him then and there-- was it maybe the result of my withdrawals that were turning my brain into further mush? In a normal setting, this would have creeped me out to infinity and beyond, but knowing this was coming from the man I had been lusting after from afar for several weeks made me excuse it in a heartbeat.

I had no idea what possessed me to close the door to his room and lock it, knowing the repercussions could be severe if we were caught. But Eric didn't seem to mind; his green eyes widened, watching my every move like a hawk.

"It was really pretty and all... The drawing, I mean," I said, inching closer to where he had sat down on the bed. "But would you maybe want some inspiration for the next one?"

Eric's plush, pink lips parted, eyes rounding out in surprise. Despite his shock, his big hands reached out for me as I came closer, and he pulled me in between his legs. I could feel him caressing my back through my shirt, holding me with the utmost gentle touch. "I'll take all I can get," he murmured, looking up at me through his brows, a knowing smirk spreading across his face.

I let out a giggle as he pressed his lips against my stomach through my shirt, enjoying the intense feeling of someone against my skin again after all this time. Eric pulled away, glancing at the door before slowly trailing his fingers under my shirt, testing the waters.

It didn't take long before that wasn't enough for him-- my breath hitched as Eric grabbed my waist, pulling me down with him on the bed. I barely had time to think before the euphoric feeling of being kissed engulfed me. Our lips met in an open, soft kiss, almost as though we were scared to break the other if we were too needy or harsh. As I straddled him, I felt his hands tugging at my shirt, dipping back under the fabric once more. His fingers gently ghosted over my lower back, eventually ending up trailing small circles with his thumbs along the underside of my bra.

If I hadn't been so starved of any human contact in here, I would've never jumped the opportunity like this. But none of us knew how long we had until the guards would bust us, and it only fueled the adrenaline pumping through our veins. Our kisses became desperate, hungry, and I let out a whimper against his lips as he took the liberty of cupping my chest, feeling me up to his heart's delight. I knew I had been waiting for this moment since the first time I saw him, and I wasn't about to let it slip through my fingers-- I decided to let him do whatever he wanted to me, no matter what.

I could feel Eric's cock twitch beneath me, clearly aroused. It was also at this moment that he made me sit up, tugging my shirt off of me before laying back down to scan me. Was he memorizing my body for his next sketch? It wasn't every night that I had a handsome stranger beneath me like this, so I allowed him to trail his hands up and down my body, lips parting in delight. "Fuck... Yeah, this will do," he murmured, pupils dilating at the sight before him whether he wanted them to or not.

"You sure?" I asked, giggling to myself. My hands rested against his broad chest, letting out a sigh of delight; God, he was sexy. As I shifted in his lap, Eric's breath hitched as I seemingly sat down in the exact right spot. Almost as though he was possessed by instinct for a moment, he grabbed my hips, rocking me against him through the fabric of our clothes.

Who would've thought I'd be dry-humping this stranger and enjoy it so much? My hands gripped his shirt, a quiet moan spilling past my lips-- I had forgotten this feeling. This was mostly something I did when I was a teenager, before I figured out how to have proper sex with my high school boyfriend. But it felt so damn fucking good, desperate; it didn't take long before I leaned back down, capturing his plush lips in another kiss.

I craved him like water. I wanted him against me, in me, for him to take me in every possible position ever-- a deep, dark part of me knew I would be insatiable from now on.

But our moment of ecstasy was interrupted when a guard started banging his fist against the door, his muffled yells barely registering through my arousal. Despite my dazed state, it didn't take me long to drape my shirt back on, climbing off Eric with wobbly knees. "Shit," I mumbled, turning to him with wide eyes. "I'm screwed. We're screwed."

Everything about him was so damn beautiful. The kiss-swollen lips definitely didn't help how gorgeous I thought he looked right now. Despite the situation, knowing we were in deep shit, Eric let out a soft chuckle; "I don't think you're screwed enough, actually. We'll get to that another time,"

My eyes widened as I gave into a light giggle. There was no way this was happening-- had my naughty rehab dreams come true? The guard banging against the door was drowned out by the incessant ringing in my ears that festered through my mind as Eric leaned down to kiss me one last time; "I hope to see you around, if they don't kill us,"

"Yeah," I breathed, only now realizing how tall he was as I looked up to meet his gaze. This man was towering over me. Holy shit. "Can't wait to see your next masterpiece."

I couldn't wait. I really couldn't.

(a/n: PART 2, PART 3 here!! enjoy<33)

#the crow 2024 #eric draven x reader #the crow x reader #the crow fanfiction #eric draven fanfiction #the crow #oneshot #fanfic #fanfiction #smut #bill skarsgård #bill skarsgård x reader #bill skarsgard #eric draven

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maplesyrupsainz · 1 year ago

Text

˖⁺｡˚⋆˙private, not a secret | MV1˖⁺｡˚⋆˙

pairing: max verstappen x wife!reader y/n (she/her)

genre: social media au, established/secret relationship

warnings: very fluffy :))

summary: in which you and your husband like to keep things on the low so much so that none of his fans know about the family you have together

a/n: i luv this req tbh i lowkey luv writing kids in it's sooo cute im lowkey broody af atm too 😭 helllll

request!!!: Hi!! Could I request an smau with max where he has a secret family or something idk I just think it could be really cute !

fc: various blonde girls from pinterest

my masterlist

twitter ->

instagram ->

yourusername

liked by maxverstappen1, carlossainz55, and others

yourusername my beautiful life

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maxverstappen1 my girls

yourusername 💓

carlossainz55 god i look so cool

yourusername hahahhh yeaaa

carlossainz55 ???

yourusername nothing mate��

yourbff aww i need to come see you guys

yourusername yes please omg 😧 alice said she misses her fav aunt !

only accounts that follow yourusername may see this post

messages ->

instagram ->

maxverstappen1

liked by yourusername, danielricciardo, and 88,928 others

maxverstappen1 beach day

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user7 omg hi y/n

user8 YES A Y/N FEATURE

user9 omg he let her out of the basement

user10 💀

danielricciardo go off

maxverstappen1 yessss!!! whatever that means

user11 lol

charles_leclerc tell y/n we want her at the next race please

maxverstappen1 she will come if the babysitter is free 👍

*comment deleted by maxverstappen1*

maxverstappen1 she said she'll think about it 🧠

user12 WHAT

user13 Urmmmmmmm did you guys see the deleted comment

user14 do max & y/n have children?

twitter ->

instagram ->

yourusername

liked by oscarpiastri, maxverstappen1, and others

yourusername let's ignore max's deleted comment slip up shall we

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charles_leclerc i am sorry on his behalf y/n 🙏

yourusername hahah dont worry about it charlie

oscarpiastri get him on a time out asap

liked by yourusername

yourbff aww the world deserves to know about little alice

yourusername they will soon we're keeping her childhood safe for now

maxverstappen1 you already know she's gonna come watch her dad race soon 😎

yourbff im sure she'll find that very fun max

yourusername hahah that's what i said

maxverstappen1 😒

only accounts that follow yourusername may see this post

interview ->

transcript (sorry if it's hard to read😭) ->

there is always going to be rumours ahout my relationship considering we keep things to ourselves, neither of us find it necessary to comment on them very often. *laughs* i've never heard anyone say i'm hiding y/n, no. we have always been private but never ever a secret and that's how it will remain for the most part

twitter ->

instagram ->

maxverstappen1

liked by yourusername, charles_leclerc, and 1,124,293 others

maxverstappen1 a small insight into our (family) life

tagged: yourusername

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user21 NOOOO WAYYYYY

user22 this is so so so so precious

user23 omg i feel so honoured that this is being shared with us even tho it's only a small piece of their lives 🫶

user24 max being a girl dad JUST MAKES SENSE

liked by yourusername

yourusername i love you!!

maxverstappen1 i love you more ❤️

user25 this is so special

charles_leclerc love you guys

liked by maxverstappen1, yourusername

danielricciardo congratulations again bro you have a such a beautiful family

maxverstappen1 thank you daniel 😄

twitter ->

instagram ->

yourusername

liked by maxverstappen1, oscarpiastri, and others

yourusername this account will never go public gang dont worry!! especially because im pregnant again 🤫

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oscarpiastri omg congratulations y/n

maxverstappen1 and me?

oscarpiastri oh right yea sorry max forgot, congratulations mate

danielricciardo congratulations guys 🫶

liked by yourusername, maxverstappen1

charles_leclerc so so happy for you guys

yourusername ❤️❤️❤️

yourbff 🤰 ur glowing

yourusername i heart you

maxverstappen1 you are so beautiful

yourusername stop it you im blushing

maxverstappen1 i love making you blush

yourusername i love you

maxverstappen1 i love you my girl 💗

only accounts that follow yourusername may see this post

THE END ❤️

#f1 #f1 fanfic #f1 smau #f1 fic #f1 x reader #smau #f1 imagine #max verstappen #mv33 #mv1 #mv1 imagine #mv1 x reader #mv33 x reader #mv33 imagine #mv33 fic #mv1 fic #maddie's smau

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marvelstoriesepic · 6 days ago

Text

Home With You

Pairing: Rommate!Bucky x Reader

Summary: Bucky and you visit the animal shelter to choose a kitten for adoption.

Word Count: 4.3k

Warnings: lots of kittens; Bucky being a dork; pining

Author’s Note: Literally nobody asked for this but I needed it anyway. In my head this plays in the same universe as Soft spot, so we’ll get to find out what she feels for Bucky, but you can also read this as a stand alone. Hope you enjoy! ♡

Divider by @kodaswrld ♡

Masterlist

“Oh my god, Buck, look at this one,” you gush, for about the fifth time since stepping into the animal rescue shelter, voice pitched high with the delight you can’t contain.

Bucky, who’s been trailing beside you with his hands stuffed into the pockets of his worn leather jacket, watches with a smirk on his lips. “Y’know we’re only takin’ one, right?” His voice is that deep rumble, smooth but laced with enough teasing for you to shoot a look up at him over your shoulder from where you are crouched down to greet the next feline in the row.

The small tabby you’re pointing at lets out an exaggerated yawn before rolling onto its back, fluffy belly exposed like an invitation, making you forget all about Bucky’s remark by the cuteness of it all.

You press your fingers against the cage, wiggling them slightly, and the cat swipes playfully, its little paws batting at you.

“Don’t go gettin’ attached to every damn cat in here, doll. We ain’t got the space for a zoo,” Bucky speaks up again, an amused smirk still in his voice.

You huff, dramatically rolling your eyes as you reach into another cage, letting a fluffy gray cat sniff your fingers before it headbutts them affectionately. “I am not getting attached to all of them.”

Bucky snorts, but you ignore him, continuing to throw those sweet cats little heart eyes.

The shelter smells faintly of clean hay, warm fur, and just a hint of that industrial-strength cleaner they probably use to keep everything sanitized.

The air is filled with meows, distant yips, and you hear some dogs bark from the kennels further down.

But right now, all you care about is the row of metal enclosures filled with cats of every shape and size. Some are stretching their little paws through the bars, whiskers twitching as they observe you with differing levels of curiosity. Others lounge lazily on their beds, tails flicking idly.

Bucky steps closer, peering into a cage somewhere above you where a sleek black cat watches the two of you with eery intelligent green eyes. “This one’s got a whole attitude,” he mutters squinting as the cat swishes its tail, unimpressed.

You hum, looking up at it as well. “Seems to be a little broody. That means you’d definitely get along.”

Bucky throws you a look and you grin back at him before a tiny calico presses its body against the door of his cage, eager for attention.

You scratch behind the ears of the sweet fluffy baby who immediately starts purring like a motor. Bucky watches you for a moment, with something softened in his eyes as if he’s already resigned himself to the fact that whatever cat you fall in love with is the one you’re taking home.

And honestly, you think he’s just as excited as you are.

You have been living with him for nearly two years now and you talked about getting a cat for quite some time.

You work well together, found a great dynamic in sharing an apartment.

You go grocery shopping together a lot. You watch movies together, you cook together. It’s never a discussion, never an argument, except for when either of you is trying to get a rise out of the other.

It started as a practical decision. You were already friends before that and it was easier for you both to just go looking for an apartment to split rent, save money, without having someone who would leave passive-aggressive notes about unwashed dishes.

It was meant to be temporary, but things just clicked and worked out and you never talked about moving out. No awkward transition period, no frustrating quirks that made you want to strangle each other. It was easy. It still is.

You cook, he cleans. Or the other way around, depending on the day.

If you make a mess in the kitchen trying some new recipe, he’s there ten minutes later, exaggerating frustration by rolling his eyes but then gobbling down your food in a matter of minutes.

You do laundry together sometimes and you had to rescue a few of his shirts already since he doesn’t always bother with separating colors properly. Or perhaps that’s just his excuse to do it with you.

And when you catch him watching reruns of Friends - even though he swore he hated that show - you plop down next to him on the couch, steal a bite of whatever snack he’s got, and make fun of him.

Bucky used to be all grumbles in the morning before you moved in together, but now he grins at you with a sleepy smile when you come into the kitchen, two cups of coffee already done - one black for him, one with just a bit of cream for you. You even got him to start drinking tea.

So when you both decided to get a cat, it seemed to be another thing that just made sense. An agreement that you would take care of it together.

The apartment is already cat-proofed, the corner near the window cleared for a cat tree, food bowls sat up neatly in the kitchen. A small box of toys sits by the couch, next to a ridiculously soft bed that you both know the cat will ignore in favor of napping wherever it pleases.

You both know you should probably talk about the logistics. Who takes the cat if one of you moves out? But you don’t. Because neither of you plans to go anywhere.

When the cat starts to lose interest in you and moves further back into its cage, you turn back to Bucky.

He has his arms crossed, stance solid, with an expression of determination on his face. And directly in front of him is that black cat, staring back with an equal amount of intensity. Its emerald-green eyes are locked onto Bucky’s baby blues with an impressively unfaltering focus. A long tail flicks behind it as if it has all the time in the world to assert its dominance.

It takes you a second to process what exactly is happening here. But then Bucky is narrowing his eyes, leaning closer in.

“Oh my god,” you breathe, amusement bubbling up so quickly it nearly makes you laugh outright. “Are you having a staring contest with a cat?”

Bucky doesn’t move, he doesn’t blink. His jaw tenses just slightly, but otherwise, he stays frozen in place, eyes locked onto his opponent.

“This little guy thinks he’s got the upper hand,” Bucky mutters, tone flat, but the muscles in his cheek and jawline tick.

You step closer, tilting your head, hands on your hips. “Are you serious?”

“I ain’t about to let a cat punk me, alright?”

The cat narrows its eyes as well. Just slightly. Like it understands exactly what Bucky is saying and is challenging him even harder.

You bite your lip, trying and failing to contain your laughter. “You do realize this is literally what they do, right?” You gesture at the cat, who remains unmoved, tail swishing from one side to the other. Even that looks dangerously deliberate. “This is, like, their thing. Hate to break it to you, Buck, but you don’t stand a chance here.”

Bucky huffs. “Watch me.”

A full, delighted laugh spills out of you as you lean against the enclosure, shaking your head at your best friend.

And the second your laughter bursts out, Bucky’s head snaps toward you. As though he couldn’t help himself. As though it is just pure instinct.

His stare-off with the cat, which has been going strong for nearly a minute, is instantly abandoned. And his eyes are softer again when they fall on you, something fond hidden beneath the humor.

“Well, now you lost, Buck,” you exclaim, still giggling.

Bucky’s brows immediately knit together, looking back over to the black cat, who looks thoroughly unbothered. It’s already stretching itself into a position of absolute superiority, head resting on its paws like it never once doubted its victory.

“Shit,” Bucky mutters under his breath, only now realizing his mistake. Then, he straightens back, rolling his shoulders, as if shaking off the loss. He gestures vaguely at the enclosure and shakes his head almost petulantly. “Yeah, nah. We sure as hell are not gonna take this one. Too much attitude. He’s gonna hold this over me forever.”

You snort, crossing your arms over your chest, peering into the cage at the cat who just effortlessly bested your six-foot-something, broad-shouldered, best friend in a silent battle of wills. “Oh, now you don’t want him?”

Bucky huffs, jabbing a thumb at the feline. “Look at him! He’s judging me. I can feel it.”

The cat blinks at him slowly, almost intentionally, before closing his eyes entirely like it has officially decided Bucky’s not worth any more of its energy.

You laugh again and Bucky groans.

You’re having the time of your life.

“Aww, Buck, don’t be like that,” you coo, nudging him playfully as you both start to walk away from the cage. “You guys had a moment. I think deep down he liked you.”

Bucky scoffs, shoving his hands into his jacket pockets. “Yeah? That why he looked at me like he was calculating how long he’d need to take me out in my sleep?”

You grin smugly. “Or maybe he just saw himself in you.”

Bucky gives you the flattest look and stops in his tracks. “You serious?”

You shrug. “I’m just saying, two grumpy boys with trust issues? Sounds like fate to me.”

Sighing profoundly, Bucky runs a hand down his face, tilting it backward a little. But you catch the slight tug at the corner of his mouth. You know he is actually enjoying your little banter. He always does.

And just as you are about to push a little further, Bucky glances back at the enclosure and exhales a sharp breath, shaking his head with a kind of amused disbelief.

“Oh, well, would you look at that,” he drones out, walking back a few steps to tap a sign with two fingers. A sign that says this very cat is already been adopted and is to be picked up shortly. “Guess someone else already called dibs.”

You lean in to read it yourself, eyebrows raising slightly. “Huh. Guess so.” Then, with a slow and knowing grin, you turn back to him. “Aw, Buck. You disappointed?”

His head snaps toward you, eyes narrowing. “What? No. Not even a little.”

You purse your lips, nodding like you definitely believe him. “Mhm.”

“I’m not disappointed, doll,” he emphasizes, but despite his words, his gaze moves back to the black cat for a brief second. “Little guy was too full of himself, anyway.”

You don’t argue. Just bite back another laugh and link your arm through his as you keep walking.

The two of you move further into the shelter, eventually arriving at what might be the most magical place on earth.

A kitten playroom.

The volunteer leading you here smiles knowingly as she opens the door. “You guys are welcome to go in and sit with them,” she says. “See if any of them take a liking to you.”

Bucky leans in slightly toward you, murmuring in your ear, his breath on your skin. “See if they like us?”

“Shh,” you whisper, barely containing your excitement. “This is how it works.”

He huffs but doesn’t say more, only watches as the woman steps aside to gesture for you both to go in.

The second you do, it’s like stepping into another world - a tiny, chaotic world made up of soft meows, little squeaky chirps, and the soft thump-thump of tiny paws hitting the floor as kittens dart around like hyper little gremlins.

The space itself is cozy, set up like a playroom with various cat trees, beds, and soft blankets scattered across the floor. Toys are everywhere - feathery wands, crinkly balls, and those little springy things that cats lose under furniture within minutes. There’s even a small bridge leading to a cubby system mounted on the walls, where a few sleepy kittens are already curled up, watching the room like tiny overlords.

You are in heaven.

Practically squealing and bouncing on the balls of your feet you drop to your knees without hesitation as a little orange kitten stumbles toward you. “Look at them.”

Bucky lingers near the entrance, eying the herd of kittens with cautious skepticism. “Jesus. It’s like a damn army of ‘em.”

You reach out and gently scoop up the orange one, who immediately starts purring, so little paws kneading at your sweater. Your heart melts on the spot.

You don’t see the way Bucky is staring. Not at the kittens. Not at any of them. At you. At the way you light up, completely glowing, giggling softly as a brown-white little ball of fluff bats at your fingers. At the way you coo at them all, speaking in that soft voice people only use when they are utterly smitten.

He is in heaven too. Just for a slightly different reason.

“Oh, we are absolutely taking one home,” you declare, beaming as another one - a fluffy gray sweetheart - climbs onto your lap and starts attacking the drawstrings of your hoodie. “Maybe two.”

Bucky clears his throat, exhales, and steps closer, careful of the small balls hopping around between his feet. “We’re not gettin’ two,” he states, but then crouches down beside you, just as a small, round tabby kitten ambles over to investigate his boots.

You watch, biting back a grin as the little thing lifts one paw and bonks it against the toe of Bucky’s boot. Just a soft little tap, like it’s testing to see if he’ll react.

Bucky tilts his head. “What’s this guy doin’?”

You rest your chin lightly on top of the orange kitten’s head, amused. “I think he’s trying to fight you.”

Bucky continues watching the not-even-remotely intimidating little cat lift its paws and bonk him again.

“Yeah?” Bucky muses, raising a brow. “That so?”

Bonk.

Bucky shifts slightly, considering this challenge, then reaches down with his index finger extended. The small tabby immediately latches onto it with both paws, kicking at him with its little back feet.

You see the grin slowly forming on Bucky’s face.

The kitten lets out the tiniest, most ridiculous little mrrp, still clinging to Bucky’s finger like it’s the most important battle of his short life.

Bucky sighs. “Jesus Christ.”

You nudge him fondly. “Come on, you love him.”

Bucky chuckles softly and pries his finger gently from the round tabby’s grasp.

“So,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck. “You makin’ any decisions here, or we just movin’ in?”

You beam up at him, cradling the sleepy grey kitten in your hands. “This isn’t just my decision, you know.”

“I know, doll,” Bucky replies easily. “But I’m sure whoever chooses you is the right one for us.”

Heat wanders up and down your back and you avert your attention back to the little fluff balls in your arms.

You are giggling at a white kitten pawing at your sleeves when you feel something tugging at your hair.

But before the sharp claws of the cat that ambushed you from behind can loosen any strands of your hair, Bucky’s hands are there to save them.

“Alright, alright, relax there, tough guy,” Bucky says, voice low and amused.

You go still when Bucky’s fingers brush the nape of your neck, untangling a mischievous ball of orange-white fluff from your hair. He makes quick work of it, grumbling under his breath as he carefully pries the kitten’s tiny claws from where they’ve latched on.

His touch is light, but enough to send a sharp little shiver down your spine.

You can smell the familiar scent of clean laundry and cedar and something that is just undeniably Bucky and you are not sure why your senses are so adamant about picking it up instead of the smell of the room and the little cats.

Your breath stays lingering in your throat a second too long before finally coming up. Long enough that when he finally leans back, you are suddenly well aware of just how intently you’d been focusing on the sensation of his fingers brushing through your hair, his voice close to your ear.

You swallow, blinking as he gently sets the kitten down in front of you, its tiny tail waggling like it’s still considering another attack.

Bucky just scoffs, shaking his head. “Gotta watch your back in here, doll. They got no mercy.”

You exhale a breathy little laugh, trying to ignore the way your heart is pounding like you just ran a mile.

The feline blinks up at you and you narrow your eyes.

“You did that on purpose,” you chastise it lightly.

It chirps in response, tail flicking.

Bucky chuckles warmly and you fight the urge to look at him, to turn and watch him like you always do.

Until you acknowledge a tiny, fluffy white kitten with bright blue eyes hop down from a nearby cat tree, landing in a little pounce before trotting straight over to you.

Your eyes go wide at the confident stride of the little one, lips parting just slightly in surprise as the kitten reaches you, then immediately climbs you and settles right in your lap as if finding a new home.

Bright blue eyes stare up at you for a second, then she lets out a little meow, head tilting slightly.

You freeze, feeling Bucky’s eyes on you.

And then, without hesitation, the kitten curls itself into the perfect little ball right in the center of your lap.

Your breath catches.

Bucky watches the shift in your expression, the way your body goes soft, the way your hands hover, hesitant, before finally pressing gently into the little thing’s fur. The way your entire face seems to melt, something delicate and awed settling into your features.

“Well. Guess that’s that, huh?” Bucky says softly, a fond smile on his face.

The kitten lets out a tiny meow and rubs her cheek against your palm, then promptly starts purring loudly.

Your heart is a puddle.

Looking up at Bucky, your eyes are bright, but careful. “Like I said, Buck. This isn’t just my decision.”

You don’t want to rush this.

This moment, this decision - it matters.

Because despite all the playful teasing and the cooing over the tiny kittens crawling over your legs, this isn’t just some random choice. It’s not like picking out cereal at the grocery store or deciding which movie to watch on a Friday night.

Bucky looks at you, seeing the way you already seem to have made up your mind, but needing him to want it too.

This isn’t just your home. It’s his too. It’s both of yours.

This choice - this little life curled up in your lap, soft and warm and trusting - has to be made together.

Bucky exhales, long and slow, seeming even a little nervous, before reaching out.

It’s careful at first, cautious, like he doesn’t want to startle her. But as soon as his fingers brush over the soft fur at the top of her tiny head, she leans into him, unafraid.

His fingers graze yours as you continue to scratch her belly.

And you feel it everywhere.

It’s a sharp heat that sizzles up your arm, fizzles through your chest, and crackles along your spine.

You will yourself not to react.

But the warmth of his hand is right there, just the shiest touch against yours, and it takes everything in you to stay perfectly still, to pretend like you don’t feel your pulse quicken, and don’t suddenly forget how to breathe normally.

Bucky’s hand stays, fingers brushing yours in a way so soft, so casual, that it feels anything but.

You almost pull back, but you don’t. Because he doesn’t either.

You force yourself to focus on the kitten instead.

She tilts her little head, her hot, pink tongue darting out and then she licks at the tip of Bucky’s finger, the tiniest little sandpaper kiss.

You laugh softly, and Bucky does too. So low and bright and genuine. It shines in his eyes when he looks at you.

“She likes you.” You don’t know why you are whispering, but this feels almost intimate.

Bucky scoffs, shaking his head, but his mouth is pulling into a wide grin. The softness of his smile lingers in the lines around his eyes.

“Yeah, well, she likes you too. So she’s gotta have taste.”

It’s so simple, the way he says it. And you are glad that his eyes are on the kitten in your lap because he surely would have seen what it did to you.

You two keep stroking her white fur while she relishes in the feeling, hands continuing to graze since her body is still so small. Something electric hovers in the air between you, something neither of you has ever really acknowledged but you - for your part - have always felt.

“Seems like we’ve been chosen,” Bucky states, voice quiet, thoughtful.

You giggle softly, feeling his eyes move up to your face, hand stilling momentarily against the fur. The purring continues and you feel the weight of the little baby press further into your lap, into your warmth as if she already feels at home.

You grin at him before moving your attention back to her. “Yeah,” you whisper. “Seems like we have.”

For a moment, there really seems to be nothing else. You don’t acknowledge another kitten bumping against your shoe or one attacking the sleeve at your elbow. It’s just you, and Bucky, and this little white sweetness cradled between you both.

“Well, isn’t that just the sweetest thing.”

The voice comes from the doorway, warm and delighted, and you glance up to see the same volunteer who led you in earlier - a woman seeming to be in her late forties, smiling so fondly you can feel it in your chest.

Bucky leans back slightly, shifting to rest his arms on his knees, but he doesn’t move his hand away from the kitten. He keeps his fingers right where they are, lightly against yours, grazing her fur, as if he doesn’t want to let go just yet.

“She’s a lucky little thing,” the woman says, stepping further into the room. “She’s going to be so loved with you two.”

Something about the way she says it makes something pull at your gut - pleasant but dangerous.

And then she beams, hands coming together in a light clap.

“Oh, you make such a lovely couple.”

Your insides feel like they’ve flipped. It’s so sudden. A weightless drop that leaves you momentarily breathless. Your lashes flutter and your brain scrambles for literally anything.

But before you can get words out, Bucky lets out a short, breathy chuckle, shaking his head. You didn’t notice the way his hand froze between white fur. Because yours did, too.

“Nah, we’re not-” he starts, seeming a little awkward. A little nervous. He lifts his free hand, and gestures between you. “-Y’know. Together.”

The woman’s brows lift. “Oh?”

You clear your throat, shifting slightly, suddenly hyper-aware of everything - the heat of Bucky beside you, the way his knee nearly brushes yours, the bashful way he looks down at the kitten.

“Yeah,” you manage, forcing a smile. “We’re just- We’re roommates.”

“Friends,” Bucky tacks on, nodding as if that settles it.

The woman hums, clearly amused. “Huh.”

She doesn’t say anything else for a second, just looks between the two of you, smiling like she knows something you don’t. Maybe you should try harder to suck in the rosy color on your cheeks.

Then she crouches down in front of you both and reaches out to run a gentle hand along the kitten’s tiny back.

“Well, couple of not, I can tell she is going to be really happy with you two,” she says, her voice softer now, sincere.

You smile at this small life in your lap who somehow fits perfectly into the world you and Bucky have built together. She definitely is going to be loved. She already is.

Bucky exhales and when you glance up at him he is wearing a fond smile as well.

He watches how the kitten seems completely at ease in your lap, her tiny body rising and falling with deep breaths.

“We’ll take good care of her,” he assures, voice quiet but certain. He swallows.

You lift your head and your eyes lock.

Something tender passes between you before you avert your eyes again and you nod at his words. They do something to you, you can’t even explain. Because there is no doubt, no hesitation. It’s not even a simple promise, it’s a commitment.

A vow that whatever happens, this little baby girl will never know loneliness, will never go without warmth, without love.

“We’ll try our best,” he adds, voice a little rougher now.

You know that as sure as you know the feeling of his presence in your life, the way he’s always there, something solid and good, something grounding and doting.

You find yourself smiling so wide, you have to bite your lip.

“Oh, I don’t doubt that,” the woman in front of you says, watching the two of you with sparkling eyes.

She seems so confident.

Bucky huffs out a laugh, and there is something sheepish in the sound.

You glance down at the kitten, who lets out a yawn, stretching her small claws before rolling herself further into you.

This is really happening.

And for some reason, it feels right in a way you weren’t fully prepared for.

“Sometimes, the smallest things take up the most room in your heart.”

- A.A. Milne

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wendichester · 13 days ago

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⋆˚𝜗𝜚˚⋆ best friend's brother²,

summary. sam's crushing hard on dean's best friend aka you

pairing. sam winchester x reader ft. dean winchester

wordcount. 688

notes. easily one of my favorite drabble series of all time! to my girlies that asked for a part 2 on this: i love you 🩷 and a big ass ps. i think I'm writing 2 more parts lmao

⋆.˚ ★— read part 1

Sam Winchester has a bigger problem.

Because now, you know.

And instead of laughing it off and letting it go, instead of making this easier for him to shove down and ignore, you’re playing with it. Testing the waters, pushing his buttons, tilting your head in that way that makes his brain short-circuit.

Dean, of course, is not amused.

“Oh, come on,” you say, leaning against the library table like you have all the time in the world. “It’s just a little crush. No big deal.”

Dean scoffs. “No big deal? No big deal?” He points at Sam like he’s caught him committing some kind of crime. “It’s a huge deal.”

Sam exhales sharply. “It doesn’t matter,” he says, as evenly as possible. “We work together. We hunt together. We don’t need to—”

You arch a brow. “Explore it?”

Sam groans. You’re doing this on purpose.

Dean rubs a hand over his face. “Oh my God, I hate this.”

You just grin. “I don’t see the problem here.”

Dean gapes at you. “The problem? The problem? You, sweetheart, are my best friend. You know, the one who moves into my motel room every time we’re in the same town? The one who borrowed my flannel and never gave it back?”

You wave a dismissive hand. “That flannel looks better on me.”

“That’s not the point!” Dean groans, looking heavenward like he’s asking for patience. “You’re my best friend, and Sam’s my brother. Do you know how messy that is?”

You hum, pretending to think about it. “I mean… maybe. But not necessarily.”

Dean lets out a strangled sound. “Not necessarily?”

Sam sighs. “Dean—”

“No. No, no, no. You do not get to stand there and look all tall and broody like some damn romance novel hero.” He points a finger at you next. “And you do not get to encourage it.”

You smile sweetly. “Encourage what?”

Dean stares at you, incredulous. “Oh, I don’t know. Maybe the way you’re looking at him?”

Sam stiffens. Because, yeah. You are looking at him. Differently. Curiously. Like you’re actually considering this now.

And that? That is dangerous.

Dean sighs dramatically. “Look, I just—I know you. Both of you. You’ll think this is cute for two seconds, and then you’ll remember you’re both emotionally constipated and don’t do feelings well. And then it’ll be weird. And guess who gets stuck in the middle when it all falls apart?”

You roll your eyes. “Oh, please. You are so dramatic.”

Dean glares. “Tell me I’m wrong.”

You open your mouth, then hesitate.

And Sam? He tries really, really hard not to be offended by that.

You turn to him instead, a slow smirk creeping across your lips. “You know… I never really thought about it before.”

Oh, no.

Sam already knows this is going somewhere dangerous.

But he can’t look away, can’t move, can’t breathe as you lean just a little closer, tapping a manicured nail against your lower lip.

“Sammy is kinda cute,” you muse, tilting your head like you’re examining a puzzle. “Tall. Built. He’s got that whole soft-but-secretly-deadly thing going for him. It’s kinda hot.”

Dean makes a gagging noise. “Nope. Nope, I am shutting this down right now.”

Sam swallows hard. He should say something. Stop this. Keep it from spiraling.

But then you grin, all mischief and slow-burning heat, and it’s like every reasonable thought he’s ever had just evaporates.

“What do you think, Winchester?” you murmur, voice softer now, like it’s just the two of you in the room.

Sam’s pulse jumps. His mouth is dry. This is not what was supposed to happen.

But the way you’re looking at him? Like you want him to take the bait, like you’re waiting for him to cross that line?

It’s undoing him, piece by piece.

And suddenly, for the first time, he’s wondering what would happen if he just… let himself have this.

His voice comes out rough, unsteady. “Think I might be in trouble.”

Your smirk deepens, a little victorious.

“Yeah,” you say, eyes flicking down to his lips before meeting his gaze again. “I think you are.”

⋆.˚ ★— read part 3

ꔛ. navigation 𓂃˖ ࣪ all drabbles ; compatibility readings ; support my work .ᐟ

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#sam winchester #sam winchester x reader #sam winchester x you #sam winchester fluff #sam winchester fic #supernatural #.docx

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yourcutelittlegayfriend · 3 months ago

Text

✧✦✧ Chapter 2 ✧✦✧

A New Reset, An Old Story

Yandere Platonic Bat Family x Neglected Regressing GN Reader

Warning this part contains: low qual English + corny/cringey usage of it, lots of cursing, emotional stuff, weird hallucinations, and bad editing I guess? was someone there before? Can someone pick me up? MC is being weird.

Note: a bit longer part this time

MASTERLIST Pages ↻ 1 , 3 ...➣

NOW PLAYING ↻◁ ||▷↺ Mona Lisa - Nat King Cole lıılıılılılıılıılı

✧✦✧✦✧

How do you act when you feel like your day keeps repeating?.

Would you be content? to just go with the flow? to memorize each of your steps, actions or words?.

Or, would you go crazy? lose your mind and sanity? to see red dancing on the edge of your eyes if you keep remembering the shit that keeps happening to you?.

I would, especially if you went through what I did, all effort I did just gone with one bullet from a gun, from a high fall, a kidnapping gone wrong, get killed by a villian, a sword, a freak accident or maybe just one very very bad day.

Gripping my seatbelt I wait for Commissioner Gordon to open the car's door and let me out, stepping out of the police car with it's siren and lights off, I stand on the graveled road that leads to the stone steps of the old and dark mansion I knew too well.

A little scribbles pops in my vision roughly drawings and crossings on the mansion as if it's giving it an evil and snarling look of a giant man eating beast.

The older man gently stir me up to the porch and I watch as he ring the doorbell - The tiny mean words and drawings floating around the door flew away from the sound - on the side of the giant doors as we wait for anyone to answer.

Tensing when I heard someone's familiar shoes thudding on the otherside of the closed entrance, I step back as I grabbed Gordon's coat and braced myself to put up a new face again.

'By now Alfred should open the doors and be surprised to meet us'. a little tiny voice said by my ear as they hide behind my back- peeking over my shoulder as if they were scared even though they're not the one confronting them anyway.

As soon as they're guess was right, I observe the old event unfolding in front of me seeing Gordon hand Alfred a manila folder and show him what I knew was my DNA test, citizen papers and profile inside.

I stare blankly at Alfred who looked at me with slight pity and worry after he heard that Gordon personally escorted me here because I was supposed to be relocated to my biological father custody more than a few months ago.

'Would have prefer to stay there as well but the broody asshole insisted on one of the last resets and got my hopes up just to go back to becoming #1 fucked up dad on my list'

'Yeah! he's such an asshole!' The voice pipe up with a snort and a laugh while leaning on my shoulder.

I turn back to Commissioner Gordon one last time as he drove off as I sadly wave goodbye from the door before side eyeing the butler who was already watching me.

"Would you like some tea young master?". He kneels down and hold out a hand to me.

I stare at his face as I see glimpse of scratches around the air and scribbles on his face - crude lines to circle around his only slightly older look - a wobbly arrow to point at the small cracks of wrinkles on the edge of his eyes and a small older doodle of him from my old memories comparing his age before a glitch switching between a golden halo to devil horns floated above his head.

Blinking two times suddenly everything turned back to normal as I look at him again properly and I study his white gloved hand before grabbing it in a practiced motion as I keep on with the old scrip that I memorize long ago.

Walking close to him I follow as we pass long dark hallways that was only illuminated the flashing of lightning during the current storm and a few dark oakwood doors each one seemed taller and more menacing than the last as we entered a fairly large kitchen that I grew to love and spent most of my time in before.

He led me to an kitchen island with a marbled top so shiny I can see my face's reflection clearly along with a few stool chair with actual leather covers and I carefully climb before proceeding to watch him prepare me a tea and some of his prized cookies.

While waiting I got lost in my thoughts as I re-assess on what to do in this reset.

'What do I do now? does it even matter?'

'Do we even matter?' the small voice questioned in my ear.

I remember the times I try to use the past knowledge I have to get closer to them but........

'nothing really works for us anyway' again they reply with a murmur and lean on my shoulder.

No matter how hard I try, everything I sacrificed, anything I do nothing happens, sure there were some................. progress but I always get cut off by another death.

'We're just born to do this shit all over again' they spit out now with anger in their voice while I hear their teeth grinding together and their sharp nails digging on my skin.

If nothing else works then.......

Looking down at my bandage hand filled with little doodles from the other children in the orphanage and some cute yet old sticky cartoon bandaids, I relaxed my small hands on the flat marbled surface and breathe out.

I got nothing to lose, 2790 resets made me understand how dumb and starved I am for attention and love.

'So hungry and leaving us Starving-!' They groan and wail in pain before vanishing away.

Snapping my head up I see Alfred gently pushing a nice steaming cup of tea in front of me as well as some cookies on a plate.

I slowly reach out and take the cup before blowing on the warm tea then taking a tiny sip and relish the hidden memories that this tea have brought me.

As I stare at my reflection I see it ripples as my hands shake and my body soon followed as I sniffled and hiccup, Alfred the ever gentleman that he is carefully took a hold of the tea cup as I cry finally cry out.

I cry till my eyes are puffy, I cry as let all the pain I have endured for so long, I cry out and childishly try to wipe off my snot as I asked for my mother to come back.

I cry because

I can.

--- ✧✦✧ ---

After finishing my tea and the cookies Alfred asked me if I wanted to wait for 'my father' before I go to my 'new' bedroom.

I see them in the corner as the shadows collects on that side and rise up to reach the ceiling 'They' shook their head and blared a large rough 'X' in the air then disappear with a flash of lighting coming through from the large windows.

"No,...... it's fine maybe tomorrow". I said looking down before turning up to Alfred and set my plan in motion.

"Mr. Alfred?". I asked as I gently tugged on his slacks making him look down to me.

"Yes young master?". He angles down to me as he put away the dried dishes.

I see 'their' wide and sharky smile behind Alfred's shoulder before popping back down his back.

"Can I stay with you?". I asked tightening my hold on him.

'From now on, nothing else matters except you.........If we can't get a family out of this shitty one then We'll make a new one' They murmur down while twirling a small baby hair on my nape.

But first-

We'll have to prepare for a little reunion.

✧✦✧✦✧

U I A U I A A U U I I A

Taglist later because I'm now entertaining food coma bleh *dies*

#No More Chances #yandere batfam #x reader #batfam x reader #yandere batfam x reader #yandere #yandere batman x reader #Yandere batboys #yandere Platonic #yandere platonic x reader #yandere alfred pennyworth

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augustjoy · 1 month ago

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The Nanny

Based on the following ask: @itzvenus04I was thinking of like sunshine soft girl reader x cloudy and broody serious Aaron meet as he hires her as Jack nanny because Jack liked her the best and of course Jack thinking his nanny is perfect he tries everything he can to get his dad and nanny together which ends up working and Jack is happy because he has another mommy now, not to replace Haley but to love him like a mom because a kid always needs his mom no matter what age

Aaron Hotchner x Nanny! Fem Reader Fluff Word count: 2185

REQUESTS ARE OPEN - not edited - please be kind. Requests are open and feedback is welcome if it's constructive!

Warnings: My blog is 18+, minors DNI, significant age gap (non-specified, but legal), Sunshine! Reader, Grumpy! Hotch, reader is a nanny, Jack being the ultimate match maker, boss-employee relationship/blurred lines, let me know if I missed anything.

I do not consent to having my work translated or reposted to any other site. That being said I do not own the characters portrayed in this story.

You had been working for Aaron Hotchner for the last six months. You’d gone out of your comfort zone and signed up for one of those nannying sites, the ones where parents would go on and select your profile…almost like online dating. The only thing is, you were looking for a live-in nanny position, see, you’d just graduated college and had been living on campus and now that you had graduated, you needed a place to stay until you found a permanent residence. You could only stay in your friend’s studio apartment for so long.

Aaron hadn’t been too sure about hiring a nanny, especially a live-in one. Jessica had suggested it, seeing as she’d become increasingly busy helping her dad and taking on additional shifts at the hospital. She told him that it would be good to have someone at the house taking care of Jack, running him to and from school and soccer, someone who’d cook and clean and…the more she described it, the more Aaron thought it would be like hiring a 50’s housewife.

He sat on the idea a while; he hardly thought it would be appropriate for a man of his age to hire some young woman to come into his home and play wife while he was out working all day. He figured the best thing he could do would be to look into one of those sites that match nannies to families based on needs.

That is how he had chosen you and honestly, you couldn’t have been more grateful for that fact. Jack had been the best kid and getting to watch him felt more like hanging out with a child of your own…he’d made you feel so welcomed and it filled you with joy. You’d enjoyed the Hotchner boys, although you didn’t see Aaron all that often, when you did, it always stirred up a fuzzy feeling within you.

Aaron was out of town at least once a week each month, those weeks were hard on Jack, but you’d made sure to fill the time with building Legos, coloring, baking, and soccer practice in the yard. You’d made all of Jack’s favorite meals and read him and extra bedtime story on nights Aaron was out of town. Anything it took to make things easier on him.

Truthfully, you liked the weeks when Aaron was out of town, it made your life a little easier, because despite that fuzzy feeling Aaron gave you…he wasn’t always the sweetest person in the world. He was kind of a grump.

In the six months you’d been working for him, you had learned that Aaron was an FBI agent, more specifically the Behavior Analysis Unit. You knew he was in charge of the team he worked with and that they travelled quite frequently. Jack constantly referred to him as a superhero. You learned that he loves the Beatles and the most important thing in his life is his son.

The other thing you had learned in that time was that he detested you. He’d made an effort to learn as little as possible about you, promptly changing the subject any time you’d said anything, even remotely personal. Little did you know, Jack was sure to fill his dad in on all the wonderful things he’s learned about you.

Jack had formulated a plan; he was going to get you and his dad together. In the short time you’d been working with them he’d been able to see that his dad was happier and less stressed out. His dad had more time to spend with him when you were around. He also loves you; you are sweet, and you take care of him, and it reminds him of his mom. That had made him sad at first, but very quickly, he came to appreciate it.

So, he decided he would help you by giving you insight into his dad’s favorite things. On the other hand, he’d talk you up to his dad in hopes to break his walls down just enough to let you in.

“Alright Jack, your lunch is all packed, can you run and grab your shoes and your backpack?” You asked him.

“Okay! Did you put one of our brownies in there?” He asked, jogging down the hall.

“Of course I did!” You called after him. “Mr. Hotchner, I packed your lunch as well. I was planning on going to the grocery store after I drop Jack off, was there anything in particular you’d like for dinner this week?”

“Whatever works.” He huffed.

“Okay, well I will email over the menu I had in mind then and if there’s anything you don’t like, just let me know.” You offered.

“Will do.” Aaron grabbed his bag and turned away. “Bye buddy, have a great day today.” Aaron pressed a kiss to the top of jacks head before ruffling his hair and heading out to work.

“You ready bud?” You asked.

“Make a pot roast with mashed potatoes.” Jack said.

“What?”

“It’s dad’s favorite.” Jack smiled.

You were putting the finishing touches on dinner while Jack was working on his homework at the kitchen island. You had taken his suggestion and went with a pot roast for dinner, figuring it couldn’t make matters worse.

“Alright bud, go wash your hands and put your homework in your folder.” You requested.

“Okay!” Jack made his way down the hall.

You set the table with three perfect place settings, you’d poured jack a glass of chocolate milk, yourself a small glass of wine, and Aaron his usual scotch. You plated up the food, mashed potatoes, pot roast with carrots, and a small salad. It was moments like this, waiting for Aaron to some home that your mind drifted to thoughts of truly sharing this domesticity with him.

You imagine him walking through the doors, placing his briefcase down, coming up behind you, snaking his arms around your waist as he presses a gentle kiss to your shoulder. Complimenting how good the food smells and asking you about your day. In these little daydreams, he was warm and sweet, not his usual grumpy self.

The door opens and you immediately hear the huff that escapes him. Exhaustion surely seeping in after a long day of work. This is part of why you loved this job, despite his coldness, you enjoyed taking care of the Hotchner boys. It made you happy knowing that he could come home after work and not worry about anything.

“Daddy!” Jack hollered.

“Hey buddy.” Aaron knelt down and lifted Jack into his arms.

“It smells good in here, what’s for dinner?” Aaron asked.

“Well, Jack informed me that pot roast is one of your favorites, so I changed up the menu a bit and made that for dinner. I uh – I hope that’s okay.”

“Oh, that’s – that’s fine.” Aaron let out an awkward cough.

So, the three of you sat and ate dinner. While you ate, Jack rambled on and on about his day and all the things that happened while he was at school. You were desperately trying to attend to the conversation, but you couldn’t help but be distracted…Aaron’s gaze had been lingering on you for the last ten or so minutes.

“Hey jack, why don’t you put your plate in the sink and go get ready for bed huh? I’ll come up in a bit to read a story with you.” Aaron said, his gaze never leaving yours.

Jack nodded his head and followed the directions his dad gave him. All the while Aaron continued to look at you, surely profiling you. You were becoming uneasy, sitting there under his gaze.

“What is it?” You asked.

“Nothing. Thank you, for dinner, it was delicious.” He complimented.

“Oh, um of course! I’m glad you liked it.” You blushed.

It was a rare day that Aaron had off, on these days he likes to let you off the hook. This allows you to shop, go out with friends and get lunch, get your hair and nails done, the whole nine yards. Jack thought that a day out with his dad would be the perfect time to talk about you. They had been talking about how you helped him study for his spelling test this week which led to him getting 100%.

“Hey dad?”

“Yeah buddy?”

“Why do you hate her?”

“What I don’t – I don’t hate her. I just, I ugh…I don’t know bud. I don’t hate her, she’s great.” Aaron stumbled over his words.

“You aren’t very nice to her though. Which is weird because she’s really nice and she makes us both happier, I can tell.” Jack smiled.

“I’m nice to her!” Aaron defended.

“No, you’re not. But you can be! Her birthday is coming up, we should have a party!” Jack suggested.

It was your birthday, you had been thankful it was on a Saturday this year, and Aaron was off which meant he’d likely give you the day off and you could spoil yourself a bit. So, after sleeping in a bit later than usual, you made your way to the kitchen only to be met with the Hotchner boys making pancakes.

“Well good morning!” You greeted.

“Happy birthday!” Jack shouted, wrapping his arms around your neck from his position on the counter.

“Thanks bub! Are you making chocolate chip pancakes? You know those are my favorite.” You teased.

“Yeah! It was dad’s idea to make them.” Jack informed.

“Oh – um thanks.” You were caught by surprise.

“Of course. Happy birthday.”

“Thank you.” You shyly smiled.

The three of you sat and enjoyed breakfast together, it had felt different than usual. Aaron had been different today, happy almost.

“So, I figured, since I’m home today, perhaps you could take the day off?” Aaron suggested. “I do have something to do around 6 though so if you could be back by then?”

“Really? That would be awesome, I really need to get my hair and nails done.” You laughed.

You had texted a few of your friends and met them at the nail salon, getting your fingers and toes done while filling them in on the latest…more specifically Aaron’s new kind side that he’s been showing.

They had told you it was because he likes you, to which you were quick to shut down. They all knew you had a soft spot for the older man, and they were sure he liked you back, especially when he was pushing you away. One of your friends claimed it was because he probably didn’t want to “corrupt” you.

After getting them to finally relent in their teasing, you had suggested lunch. The girls treated the whole day, nails, lunch, hair and lastly a new dress from your favorite boutique.

“You should wear that one home.”

“Why?”

“For Mr. Hotchner…show off your hot self. Maybe get some for your birthday!”

“Oh my gosh, stop! It’s not like that.” You shook your head.

“Girl maybe it could be…just wear the damn dress!”

And so, you did. You changed into the new dress and had your hair perfectly styled and your nails done. You knew Aaron had somewhere to be at 6, but you figured you could at least catch him off guard prior to then.

You parked your car and made your way around to grab your bags, then headed up the two little steps that led into the house. Before fishing your key out of your bag, you paused, inside you could hear Aaron and Jack talking…something about balloons and streamers. You smiled to yourself, quietly letting yourself in.

“Hey guys! What’s all this?”

“You’re early!” Jack said.

You looked around and felt nothing but warmth radiating through you. There were balloons and streamers decorating the living and dining rooms, sat on the table was a birthday cake along with a few gifts. Pizza from your favorite place was sat on the coffee table and the living room had been rearranged so the guestroom mattress was laid out with cozy blankets and pillows, while your favorite movie was queued up on the TV.

“You did all this…for me?” You gasped.

“Yeah! We wanted to show you how much we love you.” Jack said, hugging you.

“You do?” Your gaze met Aaron’s.

“Yeah, we do.” He said.

That night the three of you ate pizza and laid on the mattress in the living room, watching movies. Before it got too late the boys made sure you had cake and opened your gifts, Jack had picked out a paint set for you, knowing you enjoyed watercolors. Aaron, well, he’d gotten you a first edition of your favorite novel. You’d been rendered speechless.

The three of you made your way back to the living room and laid down to watch a final film. Jack had been snuggled up to you, quickly falling asleep, and you fell not long after. Aaron smiled at the sight of you two, it had gotten him thinking that having you around may not be so bad after all.

Taglist: @bernelflo@pastelpinkflowerlife@just-moondust @khxna

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