#Had this in my mind for a split second and it just snowballed from their lol

[radiance1]

A random au thought that I barely thunk up before splotching it on here.

So basically, Danny, Sam, and Trucker are doing some bullshit thing and somehow manage to create a whole ass world out of a tabletop game they were playing or something.

Basically DnD I guess.

But anyways, the three create this world so that they can play and do whatever they want. All three of them have legends about themselves from the npc's they's inhabited the world with.

Tucker is the Pharaoh of the night less desert, known as Duulaman. Freeing the citizens from the rule of the Tyrant god Abanoub and brought peace and prosperity to all across the land.

Sam is the Queen of Nature known as Terra, directly on par and sharing interests with Mother Nature. Her legend is that she freed the Forest of Vita and defeated a powerful void entity who sought to use the powers of Gaia to further its own ends for power. Joining forces with Mother Nature who almost fell to its corruption to end the void being once and for all.

Danny, known as Astraeus, unlike the other two, have two different aspects to his legend. Prince of the undead, and the constellation Star Child.

The first one as you should know, is basically Danny being the prince of ghosts, wherein in the world they made the ghosts (and extending too other undead), were disorderly and running rampant among the other races in the continuation of a war that should have longed ended. So, he rounded then all up and took control because the person who was originally supposed to be doing it was... indisposed.

(Cough, real reason is that Pariah Dark somehow got his ghostly hands on the world cords and was like "Hmmm, my son's world is awfully boring time to spice things up" and then shit happened.)

Which in turn, ended the eons long war between ghost kind and the other races.

Constellation Star Child is one he kind of got on accident, his friends made a joke about him being the spawn of death and time itself and being molded from a star. Which the npc's took seriously.

Also doesn't help that he goes out to explore the void and space around their world on numerous occasions to identify any threats that would require his attention (Which is literally just an excuse so he can go and explore space to his hearts content.). And whenever he comes back, it's like a shooting star falling down to earth.

So, after they've done all of their adventures and when it was time for them to just scrap this world and move on. They just, couldn't.

This world grew extremely on them during their time in it (Despite the unexpected inclusion of Pariah Dark), and they just didn't want to destroy it so they just, stayed.

Not like stay stay, more so they come back to it a lot more than they should. Fermenting themselves as these deities or god-like beings who protect and care for their followers or something.

They created a space for the three of them to converse, known simply as the council. A realm sitting on the plane of reality between the world and the void, basically heaven but not really heaven?

Anyways.

So, continuing on with this, the trio splits apart, a feud in reality carrying into their game world that caused Danny to just leave and explore the calmness of the cosmos so he can clear his head.

Sam went to Mother Nature to talk about it and seek aid about the recent crack in three's friendship.

Tucker just went to take care of his kingdom and confide in one of his trusted advisors, much like Sam.

This is when something unexpected happened. Danny never came back to that world, not as if he went back to his reality.

He just never came back.

Something is keeping him from going back, some powerful threat that he's keeping at bay with all of his might while out in the endless nothingness that is the void.

With the absence of his presence, a powerful void creature who managed to slip between the cracks of Danny's notice suddenly sees he's not there anymore for an extended period of time and has its sights on the core of the world, Gaia, and the two goddesses protecting it. Mother Nature and the Queen of Nature.

To distract the one known as the Pharoah, it managed to find what remained of Abanoub and gave him some of its power to combat Duulaman.

Abanoub worked behind the scenes, slowly rising back to his prime state of power and with the added power of the void entity, he managed to corrupt the roots of Duulaman's kingdom and sow discord.

Unfortunately for Abanoub, it couldn't exactly kill Duulaman, so it instead caught him by surprise and put him into eternal slumber.

The void entity who named itself Akasa, just like the previous one. Sought to use Gaia as a power source, but not just the core, but the two goddesses as well.

And with Duulaman and the Star Child of death out of the way, it was free to do so however it wished, though not to say it wasn't extremely careful when it enacted this plan.

Sam didn't know that Tucker was sent into eternal slumber, nor that Danny was never going to come back as soon as she hoped he would. So, when she went to the council and found that she was the only one there, she knew something was wrong.

Mother Nature was attacked while she was on a different plane, with such a coordinated attack on both her and Gaia by Akasa, Abanoub's army, and a recent addition, Chiwa the undead duchess' pawns. She unfortunately fell and became nothing more than power source.

Sam tried, oh she tried. But in the end, after a drawn out battle between her, Akasa, Abanoub, and Chiwa. She fell as well, with the added power Akasa gained from Gaia and Mother Nature, now with the added source of the Queen of nature. He was basically unstoppable.

That didn't mean all hope was lost, with the last bit of her power, she managed to seal all three of them to specific areas.

Abanoub, the Night less Desert. More specifically Tucker's throne.

Akasa, the realm between the world and the void. The council.

Chiwa, the blood lake of the eternal lady.

Their forces were still at large however, with the ghosts under Chiwa's command wishing to continue the war from eons ago. Abanoub's armies spreading across the world to take over their various kingdoms and be forced under his rule.

All two wished to free their master's, who in turn promised to free Akasa when they were free as well.

The rest of the races didn't take this laying down at all, immediately going to war and managing to hold their ground relatively well.

Both sides were at a standstill, with Abanoub, Chiwa and Akasa sealed they lost a signifcant portion of power.

Whereas with the Star Child gone, the Queen of Nature captured, and the Pharaoh of the Night less Desert sleeping, they couldn't push forward no matter how hard they tried.

So, what did they do?

They came together and summoned people from another world of course!

And who did they summon?

The Justice League.

[awearywritersworld]

the three times gojo thinks he might be in love and the time he knows for sure

gojo satoru x reader summary: title says it all w/c: 1k tags/warnings: ft baby megumi. fluff, then some more fluff. gumi refers to reader as mom. one curse word. brief reference to canon typical violence. a/n: i am ridiculously soft for this man. he needs a hug masterlist check out my latest work for gojo here

the first time it happens, it's the dead of winter and you're both still teenagers. it's the year before the star plasma vessel mission, when everything in gojo's life feels like it's falling into place. he has friends, real friends, for the first time in his life.

you drag him, kicking and screaming (it's all for show, he'd go anywhere with you), out to a snow covered field. you innocently beg him to turn off limitless, and of course he acquiesces, only to be pelted in the face with a snowball.

he throws himself into the snow upon impact, arms flailing dramatically. "i'm dead! you've killed me!"

you join him on the ground, arms out stretched and nudging the fabric of his coat. "hm, then i guess i'll have to drink all the hot chocolate by myself-"

"i have returned to the living realm!!" he shouts, shooting up into a sitting position. "had to fight god for it, told 'im i couldn't bear to leave my (y/n)-chan!"

"oh, you are so full of shit," you accuse with an amused smile.

you gaze at one another as the snow falls around you silently, both somehow feeling warm despite the frigidness of the air. his glasses have slipped down his nose, giving you a glimpse at his eyes. you're thinking about how the flakes blend in with his lashes before melting away entirely. he's thinking that he might be in love with you.

~~~

some time passes before the second instance, which takes place in the spring. gojo makes his way around campus, looking for wherever you and megumi ran off to. the small boy has been attached to your hip ever since gojo brought him home two years ago.

when he finds you, you're both splayed out in the grass and pointing up at the clouds.

"that one looks like a dog!" megumi exclaims excitedly.

"and that one looks like it might be his ball, don't you think?" you question. he agrees wholeheartedly with an enthusiastic nod.

after awhile, megumi sits up, rubbing at his eyes. "can we go inside now, mom?"

there's a split second he doesn't realize what he's said, but when it dawns on him, he looks down right scared. "'m sorry!"

your features soften and your heart soars before you're gathering him up in your arms.

"oh, my sweet boy," you coo.

rocking him back and forth, you hold him for a few passing moments. he hides his face in your chest, his hands gripping onto your shirt as if it's his life line.

you pull away just enough to see his face. you'd do anything to stop the tears swimming in his eyes, just like any mother would. "you can call me whatever you like 'gumi."

"p-promise?"

"yup!" you assure, bopping his nose with your pointer finger. it earns a small giggle.

gojo watches as you rise from the ground, megumi's head now resting on your shoulder and his arms around your neck. you're humming as you walk back toward the buildings.

gojo's legs are like lead and his heart feels as if it's shifted up into his throat. for the first time, he thinks about getting married, about having a family. your face is at the forefront of every image that forces itself into his mind.

~~~

the third time happens in the dead of night. megumi is asleep and the two of you decide to watch a movie, but you're yawning before he even presses play.

you sit so close to him that you can feel the warmth radiate from his body and although you fight to keep your eyes open, you can't help but be lulled to sleep.

he tenses for a moment when your head lands squarely on his shoulder. it seems as if you're both frozen, but then you let out a soft snore as your body shifts and your hand moves to his stomach. he finally relaxes.

your hair had fallen across your face and he pushes it back behind your ear so that he can see you. he tries to ignore the urge to brush his fingers across your cheekbone, or over your bottom lip. he fails.

gojo remains still for hours, and it feels strange to the usually hyperactive man, but he's terrified of disturbing you. terrified that you'll pull away from him and he'll never get to feel like this again.

he lets that stupid movie play through twice, but he spends most of the time stealing glances at you. he does eventually turn the tv off and the only sounds that remain are the trill of summer crickets outside his window and your soft, slow breaths.

he has no idea what time it is when he falls asleep, but when he finally does, he dreams about that day in the snow.

~~~

leaves fall at your feet as the two of you make your way down the sidewalk. every now and then, your fingers brush against his and it makes his heart skip a beat. he wonders (hopes?) if anyone has mistaken you for a couple.

you come across a familiar mansion, one that the two of you exorcised together as teenagers. it feels like a lifetime ago. you stop at the gate, a bronze glint on the ground catching your eye.

crouching down, you brush away shades of orange and red to reveal a memorial for all the people who had died on the once cursed property.

"for the lives that were taken here, and for the lost soul who took them... may they rest now in the afterlife."

gojo scrunches his nose, about to make some comment about how pitiful it was to commemorate a cursed spirit, but the words die in his throat when you look up at him with watery eyes.

"this is so beautiful," you remark, turning back to the engraved words.

he shoves his hands in his pockets, peering down to read over the words once more. maybe he'd missed something?

"this community was so fearful, remember? people lost friends and family here." he nods even though you aren't looking at him, watching how your fingertips move across the words as if you're considering them further. "the spirit scared them and it stole from them, but they still regard it with sympathy and kindness.. it takes strength to do that, you know?"

he feels his chest tighten as he registers your words. for a fleeting instance, he feels like an asshole for ever finding it pitiful, but that was the thing. you have such an easy way about you, a sort of gentleness he had yet to find in anyone else. the time he spends in your company seems like the only respite he ever gets from the horrors of the world.

he hasn't answered you yet, so you look back to him expectantly. "don't you think it's beautiful, 'toru?"

god, he could fall to his knees right then and there. he could roll over and die on the chilly concrete and he'd consider it a privilege to have died by your side.

i love you. i love you. i love you. those are the only three words his brain can muster.

"yeah," he finally chokes out. "it really is."

[last-words-ofashootingstar]

DJANGO

Choi San x fem reader x Jung Wooyoung (heavy hints at ot8)

a/n: nobody talk to me nobody touch me nobody look at me i'm loosing my mind over this comeback you don't even understand

"Ain't nobody mess with Django, call me Django." -ATEEZ

✫彡wordcount: 5.5k (sorry?!?)

(>ᴗ•) genre: smut w/plot

ಠ_ಠwarnings/content: violence and injuries, dystopian/lore universe, lots of cussing, angst, poly relationship, brief mention of drinking as coping, extreme pda LMAO, woo is a bit of a little shit in the first half, dry humping, making out(lots of it), also lots of pet names, multiple rounds, threesome, light choking&degrading, snowballing, oral, boobjob, dp, overstim, teasing, orgasm control, praise kink teehee, dom san/sub woo/switch-sub reader, m x m, unprotected( don't do that🗣️), NOT EDITED

taglist: @calicanbeevil @pansies-garden @kissezfornamjoon @wisejudgedragonhairdo

MATURE UNDER CUT MDNI

The van shook as another vehicle passed, making San groan as you fell down onto him.

"I'm sorry, Baby," you cooed softly, kissing the bruise on his collarbone that you had unintentionally fallen onto. The soaked rag that you cleaned him with was handed back to you from its fallen place on the shag carpet by Wooyoung with a soft laugh.

"You baby him too much, he's a big boy," he claps his hand onto his shoulder, making him groan again- glaring at the younger man, "right, Champ?"

"I'll beat your ass, Woo."

"Oh, I bet you will, you beat up that scrawny little guy too!" He cackles, clapping and leaning away as San swipes at him tiredly.

"He was faster than I expected!"

"You two knock it off," you sigh exasperatedly as you wipe the grime from his swollen pec, rolling your eyes at your boyfriends bickering. Being stuck in such a small space had taken a toll on the three of yours relationship- especially the two men. They were at each other throats more often than not-even it was playfully. "I'll blow our cover just to tell Hongjoong."

"You wouldn't..." Wooyoung eyes you suspiciously as you smirk. "You wouldn't!"

"I will if you two don't give me a second of peace." You cock your brow at him, tossing the rag into the pile that is your dirty laundry, silently cursing yourself for choosing to hide out with them instead of with Yunho and Jongho in their shop. They even had a cool talking bird.

You place a gentle kiss to Sans eye, a healing bruise almost faded under your lips. "Stop getting hit in the face, yeah?"

"Yeah, I'll politely tell my opponents that my girlfriend likes her boys pretty~" he rolls his eyes and whines as your body heat leaves his sore body.

"So what if I do, pretty boys happen to be my type!" You shrug and crawl off of the spent man, over to the other side and into Wooyoungs lap.

He smirks at his boyfriend cockily as you rest your head on his shoulder, "that's why she's cuddling me right n-ow!" His smirk turns to a pout as you flick his chest.

"Can you two manage a peace treaty while I get some shut eye? It's four hours drive to the next town and it's my turn to drive in the morning."

"Of course, Darling." They chime together, silently scowling at one another but keeping quiet as you close your eyes.

--

     "Wakey, wakey," you shake the buff man softly, safely parked in the back alley of the abandoned building. Wooyoung stood just outside of the open van doors, abs on display as he changed into a better looking shirt.

      "Yah, wake up!"

   You glare at him as he startles San awake, who holds you close protectively in his delirium, still scared of the run in you had experienced with HalaTeez months ago. No matter how much he swears to the lot of you that he doesn't feel guilty, the way his eyes sadden when he focuses on the scar over your left brow for too long gives it away. Hala-San, as you call him to real-Sans dismay, had tricked you all too well and after that... you couldn't look at the real, loving, caring San for weeks. You had to split off with Mingi and frequented a bar, drinking away any memory of Hala-Sans torment until Hongjoong found you and picked up the pieces when the bottle ran empty.

     "You dick," San rasps as he rubs your sides, his gentle touch a contrast to the way he gives his cackling boyfriend the stink eye.

    "Rise and shine, Sannie~" he teases, buttoning up his shirt and soothing his long hair down, "time to get your ass whopped again."

     "Oh, like you'd do any better! You'd be demolished!"

     You let out a sigh and slide out of the van, soothing your dress- which in reality is Jongho's shirt with a belt around your waist. "I'll be signing in." You speak shortly before wondering off, leaving them fighting more than ever over how they upset you.

    San insists it's all Wooyoungs fault for being such a whiny shit.

    Wooyoung is adamant that San is at fault for hogging all of your attention.

     They go back and forth for a while until a Strickland patrol vechile speeds by, spooking the both of them into the building.

     Wooyoung immediately wraps his arms around your waist as they find you bent over signing Sans pseudonym, DJANGO, into the fighting brackets. San is busy eyeing everyone around you, both in suspicion of Halateez and Strickland and simply to scope out his potential competition.

     "Entry fee is three k," the woman on the other side of the pop-up table looks as if she's ready to kick your trio out in a single breath when you don't provide the money, eyeing up Sans messy tank top and your days old makeup with distain.

    "That's it?" You pout, tutting your tongue as you turn away from the rude woman, sighing dramatically as you dig into Wooyoungs pockets, grabbing hold of multiple tightly rolled wads of money.

    Both of them smirk at your antics, so clearly eager to prove this stranger wrong about her preconceived notions about you and your lovers as you count the wads, dropping a few down before skipping past her with a wave.

      The crowded arena does nothing for Sans anxiety, his eyes scanning at a million miles an hour as he keeps a possessive hand on the small of your back. Wooyoung has similar feelings as he drapes his arm over your shoulders in a way that clearly shouts, 'don't touch' to anyone who looks your way. You feel much safer on the other hand, both of your boyfriends touching you at once for the first time in what feels like ages, both ready to toss themselves infront of danger if it presents itself.

You all squeeze your way to the front, right up to the edge of the ring, where a fight is already taking place, one of the men nearly teasing the other with the way he bounces around on his tip-toes, not letting the other get a single touch in.

"She said not many fighters showed up," you practically have to yell for the men to hear you, "Strickland cracking down again!" You explain loudly, rubbing Sans lower back in an attempt to comfort his nerves as he stretches his wrists. Wooyoung has split off to make bets with other players, making sure to stick out like a sore thumb with his flashy shirt. "Might have to find a new income soon if they don't back off!"

He sighs, rolling his head back and stretching his neck out, letting you admire the freckles on his skin that he knows you love.

As the quick moving fighter finally wears out his opponent, he gets sloppy, and he starts getting hits in. You slide behind San and hide your face in his back, wrapping your arms around his waist and stroking his stomach softly. "I hate that you have to do this!"

He holds his hands over your own and rubs his thumbs over your skin, watching the man who will clearly be his opponent wailing on the other man.

"Got nine grand riding on you tonight, Babe," Wooyoung slides back into the conversation, cupping the back of Sans neck.

Although they had their on and off moments, he would always be in tune to his emotions and try to calm him. And trying to keep the peace was even more worth it when you were around. Usually, they had Yeosang as a voice of reason but he was off with Seonghwa doing God-knows what in preparation for your next mission.

Being apart was straining and stressful for every last one of you. But groups larger than three were banned by Hongjoong after four of you had caught Halateez's attention a few months back. He didn't want to risk it again and he certainly didn't want to risk a group of nine most wanted outlaws being together. The combined reward for your captures was the largest amount of money you had ever read. You weren't sure how to even pronounce it.

It was almost an entire year of being in hiding.

You didn't know how much more you could take.

    "- DJANGO!!" The name catches your attention over the blaring speaker. How was he up so early? You peek around San and see the fast man catching his breath in the opposite corner. Blood being wiped up and a limp body being carried out.

     "We can always find a new way to get money," you scream to San as he rolls out his stiff shoulders, whining as Wooyoung pulls you away gently. "Seriously, Sannie!"

    "He'll be okay, Darling," Wooyoungs chaste kiss to your head does nothing to calm your raging nerves as San bends down and slides into the ring. You pull away in a hurry and hop up on the ledge, grabbing his top over the ropes.

      "Forgot something?" You lean your torso over and immediately take San into a heated kiss, his calloused hands cupping your face firmly and pulling you close. People all around whistle and call loudly, a blush creeping up Wooyoung neck as he watches your lips meld together.

It been almost a year on the run. Almost five months since any of the three of you have touched one another in an intimate, primal way.

He doesn't know how much longer he can take it. When you crawled into his lap earlier he nearly took you right there.

You always do something after a needy kiss that makes every single one of them feral.

You lick up Sans lips to his cheekbone and moan.

   People start nearly howling, and his opponent looks antsy.

"Fuck him up, Baby," you cup his chin in your hand as you block out the world around you for a moment and take one last good look at him before you know you'll go away during his fights. You can't bring yourself to watch no matter how long he's been fighting. But that doesn't mean you won't hype him up while you can.

      You slap his shoulder softly, making sure to make it look harder than it was in reality before giving his fist a gentle kiss.

     "Fuck him up," you repeated before hopping down.

--

The van door opening makes your head snap, setting away the headphones that play Yeosangs violin melody.

"Hey, how'd ev-"

San jumps on you before you can finish greeting them properly, kissing you deeply and feeling you up like it's the first time he's ever touched you. The clotted blood on his lip doesn't discourage either of you, the pain only stirs him on as Wooyoung climbs in and slams the doors shut behind him.

The dull thud of the duffel bag he drops makes you look over, San letting you breath and nipping at your neck and jaw instead. "Holy shit, Baby, you won?!"

"Fuck yeah, I did, Beautiful," he moans breathlessly, holding himself up above you to speak with a sultry purr, "let me spoil you." He looks over to Wooyoung lustfully. "Both. Let me spoil you both."

Wooyoung smiles at him. Genuinely. For the first time in weeks.

    If there's one thing that makes him weak it's being spoiled by his lovers. So when San lifts you up and settles you in his lap and climbs into the drivers seat, he doesn't complain: he simply dives into your lips like a man starved.

     And he is, lips suctioned onto yours so deeply and passionately that neither of you notice as the van lurches to life and begins speeding away. You fall to the floor ontop of him and hold him tightly. Like he's an illusion that will disappear like smoke if you let go.

     He body feels so right on yours. Clinged together on the shag floor. Melting together. The outside world and all of its problems fading away as his hands wander your body.

       How you've managed to keep your hands off one another for this long is a world's greatest mystery.

       "Fuck," he moans as you lap at his lips, his hands sliding up the edge of your dress and cupping the round of your ass. "Fuck, Princess, please," he whines.

       You can hear the smirk in the way San chuckles from the front seat, but it doesn't stop him from speeding up. He loves how whiney Wooyoung gets just as much as you do.

     You clumsily undo his bottoms and pull them down just enough to press your heat to his growing bulge. The thin layers of cloth separating you doesn't stop the feral groan that he lets out, holding your hips with a bruising force as he grinds up into you. If anything, the soft fabric pressing into your clit with each of his uncoordinated thrusts makes it feel more euphoric.

     "Oh, God~"

    The soft moans you let out have Wooyoung rock hard and San palming himself. "Ffffuck, Baby," you groan, hugging his neck tightly as his hips buck below you.

      Everyone got the 'Babyyy' treatment when they were good or needed a pick me up. The way it rolled off of your tongue was like a drug to them. Even more so when it's so deep and passionate. Even more so when their cock is pressing against you.

     Sans eager left turn has the both of you rolling on the floor, laughing as he apologizes loudly from the driver seat. "Sorry, continue!"

     "You heard the man," you laugh from below Wooyoung, "continue."

      And he does, burying his face in your neck and biting and licking and sucking as he rubs his bulge against you like it's the last human touch he'll ever experience. "M'cum," your moan has him rolling into you with a new purpose in life, nearly growling as he holds himself back from painting his underwear white, "shit, Youngie!" You wrap your legs around his waist tightly as you release, shivering and shaking with your jaw slack.

      He isn't far behind by even a second, his gut clenching as he turns his bottoms sticky with his own pleasure, panting into your ear as he continues to roll into you, drawing out your euphoria and making you mewl out, clawing at his scalp.

      In your bliss, you fail to notice that Sans parked outside of a double story motel and ran out with a wad of cash, clearly in a hurry.

Yours hands are wrapped in each others hair, breathing deeply with your foreheads pressed together, almost as it trying to meld your souls together with passion.

    The doors behind the both of you open and flood you in the neon light of the motel signs, and you peek around Wooyoungs frame as he falls over you protectively from what he thinks is prying eyes. "Sannie~" you call, making Wooyoung relax ontop of you.

       "You alive, Foxy?" San teases as he climbs in and crawls to you both.

     "Mhm," he moans into your jaw, "very alive." He gasps as San pulls him away from you by his neck, taking him in a feverish kiss as you watch on in awe. You can tell San his slipping his tongue into Wooyoungs mouth by the way he holds his jaw open, the way Wooyoung grinds his bulge back into you.

     "Youngie, Baby," you whine as he rolls his self into your swollen clit, but it only makes him go faster, his hands finding purchase on Sans waist. "Ah s-" You writhe below him, stopped when one of Sans hands comes and holds you in place by pressing on your stomach: all the while he never opens his eyes or pulls away from your boyfriend. "Fuck, please don't tease!"

He chuckles into his lips, gently stroking his neck. "C'mon, I got us a room for a few days."

Wooyoung begrudgingly slides out of the van, gathering your few bags and bouncing in anticipation as he fixes his pants to the best of his ability. San scoops you up to his chest and you cling to him like a koala bear, kissing all over his face as he carries you up the stairs and down the balcony hall.

Wooyoung drops the bags at the entrance of the room and immediately goes to investigate the single bedded room and bathroom before urging San in, latching the door shut behind him.

You're dropped to the bed and bounce with a soft laugh, opening your legs wide to fit Sans large frame as he slots himself between them. Wooyoung slides next to you and is immediately latched onto your neck as he unbuttons your dress.

"Ah fuck," you mewl out, cradling his head close as your head spins, San slipping off your panties and shimmying down. He holds your thighs apart as he licks a slow, deep stripe up your soaking heat, reveling in the way you moan for him. He wastes no time diving in and eating you out like it's his last meal. His tongue flicking and swiping against every inch it can reach. His nose pressed against your clit as his head bobs.

You're lost in the pleasure between your legs so much so that you don't notice that you and Wooyoung are both naked until he climbs onto your stomach, his hot member gliding between your breasts. Despite how long it's been, your body has its muscle memory from how often you two would do this.

You cup your breasts and push them together, encasing his length in the soft flesh as he grips the headboard roughly, the tip of his cock leaking on the base of your collar bones.

It's hard to appreciate just how beautiful he is while San is ravaging your cunt with his tongue, but you manage. Looking up with blown irises, he's so pretty. His long hair softly framing his face, bouncing with each of his rough, slow thrusts against your supple skin. His swollen lips parted with moans. Toned abs expanding and constricting as he heaves.

"Foxy," you whisper out, catching his eyes with a deep blush on both of your cheeks, "so pretty, Baby."

He curses loudly and reaches one hand down, cradling your face so gently in comparison to how he fucks your tits. "My woman."

The words make your eyes roll back, a wave of your arousal coating Sans tongue as you cum, gripping your breasts tightly and whimpering out as the sensations continue well past your peak.

      Wooyoung wills himself to hold back from cumming until he's told, and San holds himself back as he laps up your juices-grinding his hardness onto the bed slowly. Both of your moans are a magic melody to him, and he can't help but crave more. He pulls away and joins Wooyoung over top of you, wrapping his arms around the younger man and spooking him. He slides his hands up his naked torso teasingly slow, grinding on his backside.

"Shit, Babe," he groans, tossing his head back on his shoulder and simultaneously trying to bury his cock in your warm skin and grind back on San's bulge. "Fuck, I ne-"

"Cum, Youngie." The command from the both of you at the same time has him painting your collarbones and neck in a millisecond flat, jaw slack as San continues to stroke him even as his hips stop.

"Fuck, fuck, please, oh my God," he stirs back to life from his void of pleasure as you bend your neck and lick his sensitive tip. He tries to back away only to bump right into Sans girth on his bare backside. "Oh God~"

        "Need a breather, Sexy?" San coos as he slowly moves Wooyoung off of you, already knowing that he can't cum back to back. He needs at least five minutes at that's all San needs to get you ready for what's about to come.

        Wooyoung comes crawling back into you, lapping up his own seed with a quiet moan as San slides down your body and hooks your legs over his hips. "Ready, Darling?"

      "Yes, holy fuck am I ready, please give it to me," you babble on, only silenced as he inches into your sopping core. He's by far the girthiest man you've even been with. And the stretch always feels so delicious.

       Wooyoung takes advantage as your jaw falls open, leaning over you to drip all of his release into your mouth. The moans and whimpers of pleasure are unstoppable as you swallow all of it down eagerly, hands wrapped up in his hair and pulling him impossibly close. His body follows his head, almost snuggling you as he presses his body flush to your side, one leg hooked over your hips as he grinds his hardening member into your hip.

It's all so warm and welcoming, a familiar and comfortable feeling washing over you along with the overstimulation of your third orgasm building up as San thrusts into you with a steady slow pace. "Fuck," you moan into Wooyoung, "so big," you whimper as your cunt uncontrollably clenches around him. He swallows up all of your noises as he moves his lips against yours zealously, and sneaky hand rubbing the column of your breasts and up to your neck, simply resting: bouncing with each of Sans increasingly rough thrusts that bounce your body.

  "Take me so well," Sans praise has you leaking onto the blanket, panting like crazy and slapping at Wooyoungs shoulders as he bites at your lips hungrily, "pretty Angel, made just for us, hm?"

       "Mmhmph-" Your affirmative moan turns into a yelp as Wooyoung tightens his hand over your neck.

     Damn them. When they decided to be on the same team they were almost scary at how well the schemed without even speaking a single word. San held your hips in place and drilled into you. Wooyoung assaulting your ear with kisses and bites, squeezing your neck in time with Sans hips.

      "Pretty Angel looks like she wants your cum," Wooyoung teases as you swirl your hips in Sans hold, holding you down securely with his hand pressing your neck into the mattress as he looks down at where you're connected.

      "Mmh, she does," San groans loudly, hips snapping into you needily, "looks like a bitch in heat." His words make both of you moan out, your eyes rolling into your skull for a moment before he buries himself to the hilt and stops.

    "No, no, no, please! I wasn't going to cum, pleaseee, Sannie Baby~!" If there's one thing that gets San off, it's when his lover begs him for permission. When their with someone else- cum as much as you like. But with him? Grovel at his feet and beg him for a release only he can give you. "Fuuuck, shit, please, I need you, fuck me!"

Wooyoung watches you with gazed over eyes, holding you still as you attempt to writhe and get more stimulation. "She wants it's so bad, Babe~" He smirks as San, a look that makes his cock twitch inside of you, You muster up your best begging pout and let go of him, reaching for San's hands that are gripping your hips with a bruising force as he holds himself back until he's satisfied with your begging.

"I want you to make me cum, please, Django?"

    All of the breath is fucked out of your lungs as he pounds into you. Fast and hard and nearly animalistic in the way he buries himself in your sopping heat with a string of curses, his fingers interlacing with yours in a soft intimacy that makes your head fuzzy. You can barely moan, how good it is. But he knows. Wooyoung knows.

    As you finally come to your senses and scream out with your release, the whole district must know how well Django is fucking you.

He stops himself with a deep groan as your walls flutter and clench around him, squeezing your hands to ground your soul to your body as Wooyoung dips his head and laps at your hardened nipples. You squeeze his hands tightly, arched off of the bed in pure ecstasy as he fills you with his warm cum.

San slips his arms under your arched back and holds you close to his chest as he flips the two of you, a squeal of pleasure leaving you as he hits an all new angle. He holds you securely as he looks at Wooyoung, almost silently communicating.

He slips behind you, the feeling of his leaking tip prodding at your stretched hole has you gripping Sans shoulders tightly, rolling your hips back into him. "Oh, fuck, yes yes yes yes y-" Sans lips catch yours and silence you as he ravenously slips his tongue into your mouth and licks at your tongue, feeding on all of your moans as Wooyoung slides in with him.

"So good, my woman," his mind is gone, unaware of how your walls grow slicker with his praise as he slowly sheaths himself into you fully.

He nowhere near as thick as San, but dear lord that man has length to make up for it. The both of them together is making your stomach feel hot, the hair on the back of your neck standing up.

San pulls away panting, his lips swollen and wet with your saliva. "Beautiful Angel," you official feel lightheaded as he cradles your face oh so gently as he moves his hips. Wooyoung follows suit, holding your back and fucking into you ruthlessly, rubbing against Sans girth inside of you like it's his favorite thing to do in the universe and it's about to be ripped away.

All you can do is moan and gasp with them, a melody that your neighbors must be cursing as the headboard bangs into the thin walls.

Your chest is pressed into Sans roughly, faces barely an inch away as you all move together. His hands cupping your cheeks and keeping you upright as your body threatens to give out. "Sannie, please, n'cum," he can just make out your slurs over the panting and slapping of skin in the humid room, the smell of sex already soaking into the air.

His brain is nearly gone as he feels Wooyoungs length twitch against him along with your cunt squeezing mercilessly, only nodding at the both of you for permission as he himself lets his soul float away in a wave of pleasure, squeezing you to himself possessively as he cums inside of you. Wooyoung isn't a moment behind, the second he feels Sans warmth flood you, his is joining. And the feeling of both of them soaking your womb makes you lose yourself, dunked in pleasure.

Wooyoung falls ontop of you, sandwiching you between their body warmth. San reaches around and hugs his arms around both of you, heavy breaths lulling you to sleep.

"Holy shit." Is all that can be said.

--

    The next morning you decide to take advantage of the running water that San must have paid extra for, washing away the grime that stuck to you despite how many bird baths Wooyoung have you on the side of the road.

   San, despite you and Wooyoungs best begging, went off on his own to meet with Hongjoong after he got a call on the prepaid flip phone in the middle of the night.

    Wooyoung noticed you eyeing the bag of dirty laundry when you woke up and immediately offered to go wash them and grab some food for the both of you.

      You're so wrapped up in the welcoming feeling of the warm water pelting your body that you fail to notice the door opening, letting the steam rise to the ceiling of the motel room. You sung one of Jongho's songs sung softly, the sound echoing on the fiberglass and acrylic shower wall.

"Darling?"

You grab the knife you left on the edge and swipe the shower curtain back. "Jesus!" Both of you yell. Wooyoungs hands fly up in a defense position as you aim the knife at him for a moment.

You flip it in your hand and hand it over to him by the handle, visibly relaxing as you see it's only your sneaky boyfriend. "Perv~" You tease before sliding the curtain shut dramatically. You can hear him shuffling around, and the sound of his zipper confirms your suspicions.

     He steps over the tub edge and joins you, hugging you close from behind and kissing your neck gently. "Did you-"

     "Mhm, foods on the bed, Princess." You laugh softly before turning in his arms and hugging his neck loosely.

     "You're the best, you know?"

     "I sure do~"

     He reaches over you and grabs the travel size bottle of shampoo, cursing them silently because he will most definitely have to go get some more from the main desk before your stay is over. He lathers it up in his hands a bit before massaging your hair tenderly. "You miss them, don't you?"

     His question catches you off guard for a moment, wondering just what he means until you realize that he must have heard you singing the song Jongho wrote all those years ago on The Illusion.

     Those times were so much simpler. A group of pirates and the open sea. Beautiful blue water and all the time together that you could ever ask for.

    "Don't you?" The way your eyes glaze over is enough to tell him. You miss them just as much as he does. You wish this would end just as much as he does.

     "It hurts like hell."

     "I know, Baby."

     "I want to kill them."

     Hala-Teez, the Strickland officials? All of them. "Me too, Baby."

     He leans your head back carefully and rinses away the coconut scented soap from your hair gently. "I love you." You speak. Just  above a whisper. But he catches it even over the raining water.

  

     "I love you, Darling. This will all be over soon." He doesn't promise because he knows he can't. He doesn't know how long this situation will last. You could be on the run from Strickland and looking over your shoulders for Hala-Teez until your last breath.

      "Joong will figure something out." You don't promise. Because Hongjoong hasn't. He can't. He won't promise something that he doesn't know he cant follow through with. He could be trying to come up with a plan for decades.

      You stand in silence for a moment as you wash his hair gently before he speaks again, "don't cry, Love."

     "What?"

    When you look up, he's blurry. When did you start crying? How did this happen?

   He closes his eyes and hugs you close with his head under the stream of steaming water.

     After a small cry-session in the shower together, you and Wooyoung curled up in the bed and ate your takeout, watching one of the decade old dvd's on the laptop that Yeosang managed to get to you guys a few weeks ago.

The ban from being together for safety didn't stop small run ins with a familiar looking delivery man. Be it disguised as a food delivery man, a mailman, an exterminator- Yeosang always found a way to travel around the city and deliver small gifts from one member to another along with messages from Hongjoong when the phones were down.

A wave of laughter is cut off by a knock on the door. His hand immediately grabs a small hand gun on the nightstand as he stands, your own going to your knife that's sandwiched between the mattress and bed box as you slam the laptop closed.

      "Delivery!" The voice makes you relax.

    "Fucker," you huff as you jump over the bed and beat Wooyoung to the door and smile at the helmeted man. You can't see him, but you know who it is. "Goody~" You peek out into the halls and spot a few suspicious looking people, so you pretend to slip him some money before taking the box and take one last look as he walks away.

     "Open it," he urges impatiently, nearly knocking you over to get to the pizza box as you set it on the small table.

Ontop of your favorite pizza. A small piece of paper. Sans handwriting.

let's bounce

--

[blindmagdalena]

Okay so on the topic of John being so fast to cum, I like to think he’s got a thing for overstimulation. So, realistically it’s not an issue if he cums fast because he’s certainly going to make up for it. It literally lights my brain up to think about him coming in you and fucking you through it. Just imagine the faces he’d make. It could definitely go hand in hand with his need for praise. He’d be practically sobbing by the time you were done 🤤 I am a whore for desperate, unraveled Homelander

18+, overstim, oral sex, praise kink, sublander.

By the time Homelander sinks into you, he's already on the verge of losing it. He's been waiting for this all day, edged by your promises of what was to come. It started with just a suggestive text this morning, and snowballed into you sending him photos that had him clenching his fists tight enough to split the leather of his gloves. Even now, your breath is hot in his ear, whispering filthy praises.

"Faster," you moan, arching into him. "I wanna come on your cock. Can you do that for me, baby? Fuck me until I come?"

Homelander keens through his teeth, head bowed to your chest, face locked in concentration. "Y-yeah, I want-I will, I'm-" He wants to. More than anything, he wants to pound you senseless, but he's been so worked up all day, if he moves any faster he knows he's going to come. You're doing nothing to help his cause, tangling your fingers in his hair and speaking so sweetly to him. He hates the way it makes him whimper.

"I'm gonna come," he finally confesses, face buried in the crook of your neck, the shame of it thick in his voice as he stops, buried deep, throbbing from his head to his toes. He wants so badly to be good for you.

Without missing a beat, you tell him, "It's okay, baby. Come in me, but don't stop until I come, too."

Bracing your feet on the bed, you thrust up against him, shocking a needy little gasp from him. Grabbing a handful of his hair, you kiss and lick at his ear, rocking your hips, egging him on. "Go on. It's okay. You're gonna be so good for me, aren't you?" You ask, like you've yanked the thought straight from his mind. "Yes," he moans, rutting against you, fucking in such shallow bursts he's barely leaving you, turning frantic as his orgasm immediately swells back up to a near peak. "Yes, yes, yes, fuck, nnngh!"

Everything turns white hot. Homelander screws his eyes shut, slamming his load deep into you on a final thrust. He's still like that for a couple of seconds, gasping wetly against your skin, but a sharp tug at his hair brings him back to reality. "Don't stop," you tell him, your own words breathy and thin with desire. "Fuck me, sweetheart. Fuck me messy." Without a thought, Homelander begins thrusting again, holding you to him as if for dear life. Sensitive, he makes a wounded noise, riding the razors edge of too much pleasure. The sound of it is obscene, sloppy wet and fucking delicious. His come is dripping out of you with every deep thrust, coating your thighs and your ass, the slap of your bodies loud and wet. Homelander's expression twists in exquisite agony, more and more of those simpering noises escaping the back of his throat as he fucks you with increasing urgency. Where most sensations, like pain, are dulled to Homelander's super senses, pleasure in the extreme is not. You've quickly learned how to use this to reduce him beyond words, strip him down to nothing but a needy little pet, desperate to please you. "Oh, there, that's it, don't stop. Just like that," you pant, arching your back. Homelander grabs hold of the headboard, gritting his teeth, watching you through half-lidded eyes. The whole bed slams into the wall with every thrust. "Harder, oh god-"

Your body locks up like a vice when you come, wringing a choked noise out of Homelander. It hurts so fucking good, makes his skin tingle all over, but he doesn't stop. He fucks you as you come, even as you squeeze him through your orgasm. His eyes are bleary, and he feels every ripple of your pleasure. It yanks a second orgasm from his core, an eruption so intense and unexpected he hits an abrupt halt, muffling a noise against your neck that's nearly a sob. The two of you lay like that for several moments, you basking in the aftermath while he recovers with shaken breaths, his weight warm and heavy against you.

"Sweet boy," you murmur eventually, stroking your hand up and down his back. "You were incredible. Made me come so hard," you praise, words slightly slurred as your fingers move to his hair, stroking along his scalp. He may not have broken a sweat, but you can still feel his heart racing in his chest from sheer overwhelm.

"I came again," Homelander says quietly, almost sheepish. "I know," you say with a smile, curling his hair around your finger. "That felt good, too." "I'll do better-" "Sshhh," you interrupt, combing his hair back. "You did exactly what I asked. You were perfect," you assure, earning a contented little sigh from him. "But..." Homelander's gaze flickers up, lazy and worn out, but a slight furrow between his brow. "You made a big mess, my darling," you say, drawing your words out languidly. With a smile, you flatten your hand atop his head, and give a guiding push down. "I want you to lick it up."

Without an ounce of hesitation, Homelander goes down, eager to make up for this perceived imbalance. He shoulders his way between your legs and nuzzles in between your thighs, immediately lapping and sucking at you. He doesn't miss a drop, dragging his tongue from your thighs to your core. He uses his fingers, pumping them in and out, licking up whatever mess drips from them, savoring the taste of his own release on your skin.

Inside and out, you're his.

Relaxing against the bed, you continue to pet his hair, sighing your pleasure as you rock your hips, grinding up into his mouth and down onto his fingers. He's gotten good at pleasuring you exactly the way you like it. You barely have to instruct him, holding his hair more for encouragement than guidance. Your second orgasm rolls in slow, building up until it crashes down on you like a tidal wave while Homelander continues to lap at you like the ocean tide against the shore, chasing your pleasure through the aftershocks. Homelander pushes his fingers in deep, nuzzling at you until you finally push him away, whispering his name breathlessly.

Crawling back up the bed, he settles heavily down against you. You kiss him, licking your mingled taste from his lips, sucking it from his tongue. The two of you spend awhile just kissing, bodies slotted together like they were made to fit. You whisper reverence between presses of your lips, and he soaks it up like rays of the sun, coiling his arms securely around you.

Sleep follows easily, the reprieve thoroughly earned.

[sserpente]

A/N: I’m baaaack! Sort of, haha! I’m gathering my forces to get back into posting lots of new Imagines from next week but for now, please enjoy this silly thing I wrote. I’m still healing from Loki Season 2 and I already have a festive idea for that too… and on that note, if you have any Christmassy prompts in mind, throw them my way! Have fun reading!

Words: 1185 Warnings: winter silliness, fluff

“It’s three snowballs, Astarion. Three. And stop nibbling on that carrot, you can’t even eat it!”

“They make them with two in Baldur’s Gate!” A crisp sound tore through the ice-cold air, followed by an indignant gasp from Gale.

“Stop nibbling on the damn thing!”

It truly was a sight to behold. Gale, wrapped in a purple scarf and a hat that practically screamed wizard and Astarion, not bothered by the cold, wearing no jacket or gloves with his white shirt and those sleeves rolled up to his elbows to reveal his strong arms; and the white new layer of snow that had come to rest in camp overnight.

Upgrading those tents with magical heating and enchanted fire had been a brilliant idea judging by how you sank into fresh powdery flakes knee-deep as soon as you stepped outside. The cold greeted you by biting at every inch of exposed skin it could find.

Gale ripped the carrot from Astarion’s grasp who spat out the tip he’d just bitten off with a disgusted expression. In between them sat two differently sized snowballs stacked on top of each other, and another small one next to the wizard’s boots on the ground.

You crossed your arms before your chest, holding back a laugh. “What in the hells are you two doing?”

“I am trying to build a snowman. Astarion is trying to sabotage me.”

“I would do no such thing!” With a shit-eating grin, he raised his arms in defence. “A snowman has two snowballs as I, kind as I am, have made Gale aware of. I was trying to help.”

“Well… Alright, I see. We went from fighting mind flayers to arguing over snowmen’s body parts?” You raised an eyebrow, still attempting your very best to keep that hysteric laugh bubbling up your throat down.

“Building snowmen is a perfectly acceptable way to pass the time in winter,” Gale argued as he heaved the last snowball up and sat him on top of the other two. The carrot slipped from his hands as he did and it took Astarion only a split second to snatch it up and plunge it into the snowman’s “face” with so much force the snowball almost broke in half.

Both Astarion and you watched soundlessly how Gale retrieved a handful of coals from his tent and proceeded to give the snowman eyes, a mouth and buttons.

“He looks a little thin, don’t you think?” Astarion suggested all of a sudden. You blinked as they both contemplated the snowman with tilted heads and then got to work, scooping up more snow from the ground to pat it on. If only you had Oskar with you right now to paint a picture of this—no one would ever believe it.

“Now… go on… give him your scarf and your hat,” Astarion said. You chuckled. The cold was all but forgotten now—you were invested. Hells, this was better than your morning coffee.

“I think I’ll pass on that one, thanks. I certainly need them more than the snowman does. Besides, I could just do that—“ Gale waved his hand and snapped his fingers in a fluid motion. Out of thin air, he materialised a miniature scarf and hat to complete the snowman’s appearance.

You clapped your hands. “Bravo! He looks adorable. Now… has either of you thought of making some coffee before you got to work with this masterpiece?”

“I can’t say that I did,” Gale announced. “I’m more of a hot chocolate guy around this time of the year.”

Chuckling once more, you stepped closer and shivered. You’d need a jacket soon. The cold was starting to take a toll on you, not even the hot flushes Astarion’s presence gave you could help with that.

“Then go work your magic and make us some, will you? Please?”

Astarion hummed, regarding the finished snowman wordlessly as Gale nodded with a smile and returned to his tent.

It was a beautiful winter morning indeed. You bent down to shovel some fresh snow in your hands and formed a snowball before joining Astarion for a good morning kiss.

“You know…” He breathed a laugh. “It’s almost funny. I’ve never bothered playing with snow before. I never had the time.”

You cupped his cheek with your free hand when his gaze became distant, gently forcing him back to the present. “But you do now. We can make a whole snowman army. And have snowball fights.”

“Snowball fights?” The confusion in his voice was palpable, teasing almost.

“Snowball fights,” you repeated. With that, you brought the hand holding the snowball above his head and smashed it on top of his hair.

Astarion’s jaw dropped, feigned indignity paired with real indignity as the snow trickled through his hair and on his shoulders. You laughed, almost slipping on the snow campground when you turned on your heels and made a run for it. There was no need to look back to see if he was following you. He was—and with his vampiric reflexes, he had his arms wrapped around your middle in no time.

You both went down before your brain could even process you were falling. Astarion cupped the back of your head to keep you from hurting yourself as he landed on top of you, his free hand snatching both your wrists to pin them down above your head.

“How dare you, pet.” It wasn’t a question, that much was for sure. You laughed, your weak and half-hearted attempt to wriggle yourself free all but failing before it properly started.

“Ahh, oh, gods, it’s cold! It’s cold!” You arched your back to escape the snow but were promptly blocked by Astarion’s body weight on top of you. He chuckled—the mischievous sound immediately sent a pleasant shiver up and down your spine.

“Well… that’s what you get for attacking a vampire,” he mused.

“Hmm, and quite vicious it was.” There was a proud and smug hue about you but it didn’t last long for when Astarion pressed his cold lips against yours, you became putty in his awkward embrace in the snow. Your eyes fell shut, body welcoming him in and for a moment, his affection even chased away the biting cold of the fresh flakes underneath you.

“Hey, lovebirds! The hot chocolate is ready!” Gale’s voice came echoing across the entire camp. If your remaining companions hadn’t been awake yet, they certainly were now.

You licked your lips when Astarion broke the kiss, reluctance shimmering in his red eyes.

“Hot chocolate… you know… I wonder what would happen if we poured you a mug and then mixed it with some of my blood. You think that would taste good?”

“Well…” A smirk. “I am open to experimenting.”

“Speaking of experiments, I’ve always wondered what it would be like to have sex in the snow.”

Astarion laughed. He rolled off of you and offered his hand to help you up. “I could be persuaded,” he said when you walked past him to get your hot chocolate. You grinned in response. You knew he already was.

[aibloomie]

GOING ON A DATE WITH THEM

✧ featuring — xiao, childe, thoma, and kaveh x gn!reader

xiao’s and childe’s are way longer because yes </3 this is what my short lived motivation brought me to write so I'm pretty happy WOOO ignore any typos HELP

xiao, who would not complain about taking you up one of the tall hills residing in the huaguan stone forest upon your idea for a date with him there. feeling the sturdy ground of the hill would make him feel serene, and his ecstasy would be tripled because he's accompanied by his precious lover. you have him wrapped around your finger, and he finds himself accepting gestures that he never imagined he would have. you could adorn his hair with lovely qingxin petals, trace his light tattoo with your fingers (which will definitely make his cheeks flush), and even request to wear the seemingly dangerous necklace that hangs around his neck. he’s all yours <3

“your sources of happiness are quite odd.” xiao comments, watching as your fingers toy with the pearl colored beads of his necklace. contentment fills your features, your eyelashes fluttering in what he views as a dreamy manner, and your smile seemed almost everlasting as it made no effort to leave your face. you seem happy by simply touching his necklace as if it was a long lost treasure, more happy than if your favorite food were to be presented right in front of you at this very moment. 

his statement made you snicker, “xiao, are you calling yourself odd then?”

“what do you mean?” xiao scoffed, cluelessness clear in his eyes as he stared blankly at your amused ones for a couple seconds before he realized what you were indicating. his eyes widened for a split second. the seed of pure and blissful love that you had instilled in him was nurtured by each and every moment he spent with you, by every realization he had of how dearly you loved him. 

“oh.” a second of silence as he tried to say something- anything. “I see…you make me happy too.” his last words were quiet, but certainly ones that made your heart jumping with joy since xiao usually had trouble vocalizing such thoughts.

once the date is over and the sky turns a midnight blue, xiao cannot get you off of his mind. his company every night is the moon— who listens to the lovingly sweet thoughts xiao has about you, the memories that replay over and over in his head and contribute to his pounding heartbeat, and feels the longing for you that courses through his veins. the moon is his witness to his overwhelming love for you. 

childe who would want to travel to dragonspine, welcoming the bittersweet feeling of the snow that reminds him an awful lot of his home nation and family. he’ll make sure you’re all bundled up, warm, and safe so that the weather does not make you sick. he is an expert at this, given that it is something he used to do frequently back in snezhnaya to make sure his loved ones never got sick. he thinks you’re really cute, looking at him lovingly while he wraps a scarf around you.

“where did you even pull out that scarf from? I didn’t see you take it when we left to come here."

childe feigns disbelief, dramatically placing a hand over his heart, though his next words were laced with delight. “oh, how you wound me. how could my own lover forget that I always come prepared?”

with a roll of your eyes, you shake your head. “yeah? mind telling me about the time that you so heavily insisted on paying for our meal at liuli pavilion and ended up somehow forgetting your mora?”

this time, childe let out an authentic gasp. “hey!” he didn’t even have a comeback. 

with that out of the way, he of course wants to have some sort of battle with you. he’s a competitive individual, after all. so yes, expect him to suggest that you guys hold a snowman competition. just because he loves and adores you does not mean that he will go easy on you </3 snowball fights are not out of the question either, though he does make sure to tone down his strength for it so he doesn’t hurt you

you’ll be spoiled by the end of a night full of thoma’s company, walking alongside him through the well lit streets of inazuma city. you might get teased by a few of the merchants who have known thoma for a long time, making comments on how much of a fitting couple you are. the more elderly people openly describe the two of you as the embodiment of what it feels like to be “young and in love.” all of that just makes thoma’s smile grow and his hold on your hand tightens momentarily, not bashful at all over how clear his feelings are for you. 

on dates like this he really enjoys buying you what you want. see some food that makes your mouth water? within a second he’s already ordering, unintentionally getting a discount since he has helped the cook out in the past (and yes he will want to feed you the food if you let him, and likewise, would love to be fed by you as well)

kaveh, who guides you to a well adorned boat floating idly on a river that circulates a beautifully built city. his attentiveness shows by the dishes with your favorite foods and beverages that are nicely laid out within the boat, accompanied by the decoration that makes the interior of the boat anything but dull. any compliments crafted for him on your end make his mind feel fuzzy, evident by the way his face flushes perfectly. 

the opposite is also true. usually kaveh would more carefully bask in his surroundings, but you captivated his eyes way more than any intricately designed building could, and he makes that known. 

“even with all this impressive architecture surrounding us, I can’t seem to take my eyes off of you.” kaveh’s tone was tender, as if his heart was speaking on its own. his auburn eyes soften as he reaches out a hand to gently caress your cheek. “your unmatched beauty and kindness is breathtaking.”

the date is definitely going to be stuck in his head </3 kaveh already knows he's going to arrive back at alhaitham's home once the date is over, so immersed in his own daydreams of you that he won't even be in the mood to bicker with his roommate (you have kaveh burying his face into a pillow and swinging his legs /hj)

[ink-on-the-brink]

Obsessed Engie x GN Reader ~ Dark Nights Come With A Cost [PT 12]

Chapter Selection

Darkness had fallen on the winter roads, streetlights starting to pop on as the air temperature dropped further. The only thing keeping you warm was your thick coat and moving body, your pocketed hands a reminder that you had forgotten your gloves before you left. However this mild annoyance faded into the background as you took a deep breath in, relishing in the calm silence of the night. You wished you could see it more, though the thought of ever doing so alone felt like a death sentence in itself.

"So, how's your studies goin'?" Dell's voice finally spoke as he ended the silence.

"They are uh...well they're going. You've certainly helped if that's what you're asking," you responded naturally before taking a second to untuck your hands to blow warm air into them.

"Well that's good ta hear. Ya said you were graduatin' this year right?" He asked, his eyes turning over to you. In the distance you heard a small flutter before spotting a bird flying just a little bit past its bedtime.

"Yeah. What about you?" You asked, his face slightly scrunching at the question.

"Me? Well I ain't too sure. Was hopin' ta maybe get a few more studies in before quittin' college altogether. There's a lot ta learn y'know? Though I don't think I'd be doin' it full time. Probably just do it online or somethin'," he responded genuinely, so he was surprised to hear a small snicker from you.

"Right. Because nine PhD's isn't enough," you teased in a lighthearted but slightly mocking tone, quickly catching his attention. Upon seeing the small smirk on your face and a light roll of your eyes he found his own smile growing, seeing that you were now in a better mood than before.

"Well now a man can't know too much can he?" He retorted, only to earn a tsk from you.

"He most certainly can mister Conager. I've seen it with my own two eyes," you responded just before turning to him, a light chuckle falling from him as you did so.

"That's Dell ta you sweetheart," he quickly replied, his brain mildly short-circuiting at having let the nickname slip out. Though the poorly hidden look of minored shock on your face made it almost worth it. It was short-lived as you quickly turned back to looking in front of you. However he was surprised to hear a quiet laugh from you afterward.

"Yeah? And what are you gonna do about it mister Conager?" You emphasized the name this time, taunting him with it. A wide smile broke on his face as you did so, his eyes lighting up at the fact that you felt comfortable enough to be this playful with him. Even with this sudden joy he was also very aware that he couldn't let you get away with this. And, glancing towards the snow that laid on either side of the sidewalk, he knew just what he had to do. He swiftly dipped down, grabbing a handful of it before he stopped walking. You didn't notice for a few seconds, taking those extra needed steps away before you realized he wasn't there and, in almost a panic, you turned around.

Only to be met with a snowball to the chest.

The world paused for a moment, your mind trying to register what just happened. That was before you looked over to Dell, a wide grin plastered on his face and a second snowball in his hand.

"Oh. So we're playing dirty now huh?" You quipped.

"Well s'only fair. Considerin' I asked nicely the first time," with his grin only growing he wound up the second throw. Seeing it coming this time you ducked behind a nearby fence, the packed snow disintegrating on contact.

"Oh, what a gentleman!" You mockingly yelled before picking up a ball of your own, appearing for just a split second from the fence before throwing your newly made weapon. Disappointment was all you felt when it hit the ground.

"Gonna have ta try harder than that!" He retorted, sending another set of white flurries your way, eventually compromising your position. So you went further down the street taking shelter behind trash bins and lampposts as he continued advancing, though not without a few hits of your own. You could never have contained your joy upon having actually hit him, especially as he turned with a feigned look of shock. You found yourself laughing, genuinely full-on laughing, for the first time in years. You had never been in a snowball fight before, yet now you wished you would have grown up doing so.

As this one-on-one middle of the night snowball fight between the two of you continued he began to inch closer and closer, gaining more ground than you could keep between before, eventually, he stood only a little more than an arms length away, snowball in hand as you found yourself without one.

"Seems like you've met the end'a the line," he teased, his small step forward sending you a step back, your hands slightly raised, a pretend mark of surrender.

"Awww come on we can talk about th-" before you could finish your sentence you took another small yet unwise step backward, your balance immidiately lost on a thick sheet of ice that covered a decent chunk of the continuing sidewalk. With widened eyes Dell dropped his snowball, both hands reaching out to catch you, only to lose his own balance. It wasn't even a full second before you both met the earth while just barely managing to keep your head high enough to not hit it on the ice that you both almost comically slid down before coming to a complete stop a few feet down the sidewalk.

Silence enveloped the world for a moment, the shock running through your system before you slowly opened tightly shut eyes, revealing how he had landed on top of you. He went into an immediate panic.

"You alright?!" He asked as he pushed up just enough to not have his full body weight laying on you, leaving inches between his face and yours. You took a few seconds before you allowed a deep breath to fill your lungs, the world coming back to you. Besides having the wind knocked out of you and a bruise that future you would have to deal with, you felt relatively fine. Nothing felt broken at least.

"Yeah, just lost my breath," you finally spoke, his panic dissipating with the response.

"You okay?" You asked with slight breathlessness. He took a second to make sure but besides bruises he was also perfectly fine.

"Yeah. I think so," he answered. There were another few seconds of silence as you further caught your breath before speaking again.

"It uh...might help if you get off," you pointed out, knocking him back to reality as a look of embarrassment took hold. He quickly rolled off to which you finally sat up. You winced, another shock of panic rolling through his system at the sound. Though when nothing came from it he calmed again.

It was then that both of you turned to look at each other, smiles creeping onto your faces before being followed by at first small but soon howling laughter. The both of you shared the same moment of pure joy as if nothing in the world could be funnier than this. Surrounded by cold snow in the isolation of the night, both of you couldn't have felt happier in each other's company.

When the laughter died down and the quiet crept in, peacefulness fell. The stillness was no longer able to produce discomfort around each other. You both locked eyes, your smiles smaller now.

Staring at Dell you felt your worries disappear. Not a single thought of the past crept into your mind while around him, just the joy of the moments he always seemed to bring. And it was then you felt your heartbeat a little faster in your chest, though you quickly explained it away as a slowing of your adrenaline.

You were taken away from this peace when you lost Dell's eyes as he turned to stand. Upon making it to his feet he turned back to you, outstretching a hand.

"Best get back to movin'. Gettin' a lil' too cold out here for my taste," he suggested, his smile still visible. You took his hand to which he pulled you up almost effortlessly.

"Woah!" you exclaimed, surprised at the sudden speed that you were pulled to your feet. His smile fell back to poorly hidden worry.

"You okay?" He asked again, his eyes looking over you for any injury you might not have spotted the first time.

"Yeah no I'm- I'm fine. You're just stronger than you look," you pointed out, your eyes turned to your hands as you brushed off bits of snow and dirt, unaware of the wide grin that showed on his face at the compliment.

"Well movin' metal boxes might do that to ya" he pointed out, to which you nodded in agreement as the two of you continued on with your walk. Though there wasn't much of it left.

Less than ten minutes later the two of you finally arrived back to your apartment and as you did your reality was slowly coming back to you. A few steps away from the complex you turned to Dell with a question.

"It really is getting cold out here. You should uh, come warm up a bit. Wouldn't want you to freeze on the walk back," you offered, your eyes not looking at him even though you had tilted your head his way. Turning to you he almost immediately caught your apprehensive eyes, your wavering smile and tense posture. It was enough for him to know what you were really getting at.

"Sure. Though chances are I probably will anyway," he spoke in a flippant tone, trying to keep the mood light. Something he knew he succeeded in when you couldn't force away the small smile that tugged at your lips.

"Yeah well we can at least make sure you make it to your car as a slushy rather than an ice cube," you responded, another small chuckle falling from him.

Walking into the complex the soft ding of the elevator swiftly caught your attention, your eyes falling into a group of people filing out of it. Not recognizing any of them you continued walking, only noting their matching black clothing and baseball caps. Dell gave a passing hello to the group who didn't so much as turn to him. You were more focused on getting into the elevator though, Dell not far behind. Once he made it in you clicked the button, not noticing how his eyes narrowed towards those you had passed.

"Up we go," you whispered to yourself as the doors slowly closed, both of you soon ascending up the floors. It was quiet again and, though you weren't sure why, something didn't quite feel right. You looked over to Dell, his expression not too different than before, though you noted that he stood a little taller. You gave a smile that he returned but it did little to comfort the sudden unease that you felt. Even as the two of you left the elevator and began your short walk down the hall, silence remained.

Suddenly though you were stopped, Dell ceasing your movements as he laid a hand in front of you. To help come to a sudden stop your hands grabbed his arm, slowing the inertia of your body. Unable to move further confusion crept onto your face before you looked over to him, a suddenly serious stare consuming his features.

"Dell-?"

"Your door's open," he pointed out. Your eyes immediately turned back to the door, utter terror falling on your features when you noticed it was held slightly ajar. Your hands tightened onto his jacket as your stomach dropped. You both didn't make any other move for a long while, instead staring at the door, waiting for anything to leave. When nothing happened Dell then went to take a quiet step forward. Your sudden vice grip pulled him back.

"What are you doing???" You whisper yelled in an obvious panic. He turned back to you, now seeing the fear held in your eyes which only led to his furthering need to keep you safe.

"I'm gonna go see if someone's in there," he stated quietly, though your tightened grip didn't loosen in the slightest

"Are you insane?!? Dell what if- what if there is someone in there!? What the fuck then huh?!" Your voice held deep worry, your eyes now begging him to listen. And in those pleading eyes he found guilt bubble within him as he knew he wouldn't be able to listen. If he learned one thing growing up it was how to deal with scenarios like this and right now he either had to one, call the police (which wouldn't happen in any world what so ever) two, call someone from his family (which he truly did not want to do and would likely seem strange to you) or three, go see what it is. The third seemed like the most reasonable option. After all, it wasn't as if he was defenseless.

"M'just gonna look alright? Ya might'a just left it open on accident. I'll be right back," he tried to calm you with an explanation as he gently pulled away once again. This time your grip only gave slight resistance before you finally let go, instead watching him walk closer to your door from a few feet down the hall.

Making it to the door he situated himself to the side of it, slowly pushing it open and remaining ready to bolt at a moment's notice. The door creaked slightly, the sound almost ear-piercing in the silence. Looking in through the small opening he had made, his eyes widened at what he saw.

Flipped furniture, holes in the wall, shattered glass from sources he couldn't quite identify, flipped chairs and torn apart tables, it was all in a huge mess around your apartment. Curiosity and dread drove him to open the door further, soon finding that everything within sight was trashed, as if whoever did this aimed to leave nothing behind.

"Mary above," he muttered, catching your attention.

"What?" You asked, his head turning to you as his hand moved to his lips, his pointer finger held to silently shush you. You went silent again and so his head turned back over to the door, pushing it open the last bit out of the way and taking slow, hesitant steps in. His hand found its way to his hip as he readied himself for anything that might happen. He continued to slowly walk, staying near places he could quickly duck behind as he scanned for any sort of movement. He continued like this further into the apartment, his senses on high alert. His breathing slowed and his eyes sharpened into icy daggers as he didn't let a single crevice of place go unchecked. What felt like hours to you passed in minutes as he realized there truly was no one here. Even with that comfort his posture didn't change, nor did he let his guard down in the slightest, but he was at least sure that no one was here at the moment.

Unable to take waiting any longer, you slowly poked your head around the corner into your apartment, your jaw dropping and your stomach churning at the sight in front of you.

"What the fuck," you whispered to yourself, both fear and devastation fighting for the expression that fell on your face. Dell looked back, his eyes softening slightly as he saw you look around the room, taking in the damage that had been done. He gave a sympathetic stare. He couldn't begin to imagine what was going through your mind right now. He moved the hand on his hip to make his grip look a little more natural in hopes that you wouldn't notice or draw attention to it as he took a few steps toward you.

"Don't seem like no one's here, though I ain't sure if anyone's comin'," he spoke, the loud echo of his voice in the deathly silent room almost unbearable to his ears. You slowly began to step in, your head turning to look at what had once been your home, now lying in pieces around you. Your eyes welled with tears, the pure sense of loss and weeks of piled-on stress breaking you down further. You didn't look at him, in fact he felt almost as if you had forgotten he was even there as your eyes passed him.

As you moved you began to slowly wander into the kitchen, the heaps of glass under your feet recognized as every breakable item that had laid in your cabinets. Though among the wreck you found that your eyes drifted to the place your photo had been, only to find that it wasn't there. Instead it sat among the shattered glass, its frame ripped apart, its see-through covering lost among the piles of similar material, and the photo barely visible under certain piles of it. You slowly crouched down, carefully pushing the pile away before pulling the photo out only to notice it had been singed. The faces were burnt out, a black color covering most of what was left.

You felt the wet streaks of tears begin to fall down, the overwhelming situation taking you over. You felt almost unable to think, to even fully understand what was going on. All you could register was the destruction of it all.

After a little while Dell followed you into the kitchen, his senses still on full alert. This didn't feel safe. Even in the silence and with no current discernable threats he didn't feel at any sort of ease here. And with that feeling bubbling its way up his body, he knew one thing rather clearly.

You couldn't stay here.

"It's uh..." He started, your face staring at the photo for a second more before turning to him.

He almost couldn't talk once you faced him, the radiating pain of your expression almost silencing him.

You looked so tired. Not the type of tired you get from an all-nighter or a busy social event, no. It was a look of pure exhaustion he couldn't begin to describe. The type you would expect to see when an immovable object finally loses against the unstoppable force.

Yet somehow he was able to eventually find his words, his deep concern and general paranoia winning against his immediate thoughts of falling with you.

"It ain't safe here..." He spoke up, his body standing only a step into the kitchen. You looked back to the photo, its state irreparable and irreplaceable. You eventually sat it back on the ground, knowing that keeping it would be useless. Silently you stood, your arms held against you in a self-soothing hug as your eyes stared at the floor.

"What am I supposed to do Dell? What...what do I do?" You asked, resignation found in a now hollow tone. You were at a loss, completely and utterly defeated. You had given everything you could, there was nothing left in you to fight anymore. There was no spite or anger or even thoughts of self-preservation. You had nothing. No knowledge of when or even why the world had decided you were deserving of this, no power to fight back against it. You were a leaf of pain set to sea in a hurricane. It was inevitable you would be torn apart, your soul splayed in broken pieces the world would forever ignore. How futile fighting had seemed now, how fruitless.

It would have been less painful to have let the storm take you...

Dell didn't move, didn't speak, didn't act. Your voice had explained even when your words didn't. He could only stare as you lost yourself, asking him to solve what you had failed to. He didn't know what to say, what to feel. There was a swirl of so many meanings in your words. To choose one was to choose wrong and to remain idle was to let you fall apart in front of him- but there was no answer! No solution, no problem he could solve. There was nothing he could say, no righteous way to act.

There were only pieces.

"Y/n..." He started, hoping that any words would come to him, that his tongue knew something he didn't. He instead found that it fell dead in his mouth, vowels of answers nowhere to be found. He stepped closer, the glass on the ground further breaking at his feet. You finally looked back to him, streaks of hollow agony flowing down your face. And it was then, with nothing else he could think to do, that he slowly pulled you closer, his arms wrapping around you, hoping that he could bring any sort of comfort. That somehow his arms could pull against the waves of stormy sea and find your lost pieces.

You froze a moment, your body tense under his touch. Slowly, almost apprehensively, you returned it. Your arms wrapped around him, your hands soon balling up the fabric of his clothes as you fell into him. You didn't crumble in his arms as you had done before. Not a sob left your lips as you held him. There was nothing left to crumble, nothing more to break. You could only hold on to him in hopes that he somehow held a piece of you with him.

However you didn't find yourself in his arms. Instead your focus fell onto the light smell of oil and pine that surrounded you, the texture of the worn jacket that wrapped him, the natural warmth his body freely gave to you. There was no judgment in his eyes nor annoyance in his hold. He didn't dismiss you, he didn't ask you to pull yourself together, to push your emotions back into the dark void you usually kept sealed. No, he held you. His arms didn't hang loosely or ask for anything from you. He held you. And even as the shattered glass began to resemble your lost will, he held you. He- He felt...

Safe

"S'alright...you're gonna be okay," he mumbled just as he began to rub circles on your back. You squeezed him a little tighter, trying to remind yourself that he was real. That in your desperation you hadn't just imagined such kindness. Afterward you took a deep breath, calming down from the strange state of mind you had been in only seconds ago. His words ingrained in your head, your body relaxing as you took his word for truth, his arms for comfort, his presence for safety.

"Thank you," you whispered back, a response that caused him to relax as well, knowing now that he had somehow helped, if only a little bit. After that realization he slowly pulled away, each other's hands hesitating to let go, but doing so in the end. A few tears had streaked down your face once he did, though you quickly wiped them away, taking another deep breath to further calm yourself. Silence lingered for an extra second, Dells eyes a mixture of unease and worry

"My-..." He started again, his thoughts not fully collected and his apprehension for the idea he was about to propose slowing him down a moment. But with a quick glance at the surrounding area and flashing images of your shattered state, he didn't feel like there was another option.

"My family's got a house 'bout fifteen minutes out from here. We got a couple'a spare rooms. You can stay there for the night if ya need to," he finally offered, an incredibly serious expression on his face. Your eyes once again averted from his as you thought on it, hesitance found in the moment of silence you prolonged.

Then again, it wasn't like you had anywhere else to go.

"Yeah um...If you- If you think they would be okay with it," you accepted, your answer greatly relieving to hear, though the relief didn't outshine the doubt that was beginning to grow in his chest, especially with the words you had chosen to respond with.

"Course...we should get goin' then. S'gettin' a little late and we gotta walk back to get my truck" Dell pointed out to which you nodded along.

The two of you left the destroyed apartment, standing closer to each other than you had previously. Dell looked over to you, only one thought repeating through his head as he did so.

'Ain't no one allowed ta treat you like this'

Next Chapter

[readerstories]

Body Heat - Aaron Hotchner x male!reader

Summary: Been re-watching Criminal Minds lately, and ofc reading fanfics, and I see that there are very few male readers out there so here’s at least one. Some classic bed sharing because something breaks during a snowstorm and it’s freezing, so time to share body heat ;) (AO3)

Warnings: nsfw, smut

Wordcount: 3891

A case in a small and remote part of North Dakota during the middle of the coldest winter in memory was not ideal to say the least. 

You liked snow and the cold, but even you had your fill by now. Everything is frozen, the ground, the bodies of the victims, even the snow was crunchy and no good to make snowballs with. (All of you had at one point or another almost face planted before getting wise and buying shoe spikes.)

At least the case was over and you had caught the killer alive this time, so that was good.

What was not good, was the snow storm currently raging outside the cabin door, causing the whole team to be stuck waiting for it to clear so you could take off. Because of course, this being a small town, there was no hotel, only small cabins to rent. But at least there were beds to sleep in, a small desk with a chair, a small bathroom (and a fireplace that you had yet to use), which was really all you needed.

The team had split up, since there only were two queen sized beds in each cabin. You had ended up with Hotch, which you really didn’t mind. He was always a quiet roommate, very polite and proper. Didn’t talk much, mostly went right to sleep when he got in, or stared at case files all night.

He was doing the latter right now, while you try to read a few more pages of your book before planning to go to bed for the night. You are trying your hardest to keep your eyes open, determined to at least reach the end of the chapter before sleep takes you. The only lights in the room were the one above your head, and the one on the desk Hotch was using which made it actually kind of cozy, which made your goal even harder.

That coziness disappears in seconds however, when the lights flicker, and then turn off.

Silence, then the both of you try to turn the lights back on a few times. Hotch’s cell pings with a new text, which he quickly reads, the cold light of the screen now being the only light source. 

“Seems the power is out, Morgan is going to the reception house to ask the owner about it since he’s in the cabin closest by.”

“Okay, good, at least it’s not only us.” A few beats of silence, and then another text. Hotch frowns as he reads it.

“Seems like the whole town is dark, the storm has taken out the power, but this place has generators.”

“Great!”

“But it only covers the essential stuff so no pipes will freeze, so we need to keep everything else off.” You nod, forgetting he can’t really see you in the dark.

“So only heat on in the bathroom I’m assuming.”

“Yeah.” You both eye the fireplace, and you sigh. 

“The owner told Morgan they are fully usable.”

“Well, let's see if I remember how to light one, it’s been a while.” You get out of bed, walking over to the fireplace to start trying while Hotch texts with someone, presumably Morgan again.

Stacking wood and finding some old newspaper curled up in the firewood basket, it only takes two tries and a few minutes to get a budding fire going. Proud of yourself as you watch the flames slowly catch while crouching in front of it, you feel Hotch’s eyes on you.

“Did Morgan say anything else?”

“He suggested we move to fewer cabins. I told everyone to stay in their respective cabins, we don’t need anyone risking going out in this weather when we all have good heat sources.” You nod, getting up and stretching.

“Well, I’m going to brush my teeth then try to sleep, and you should too.” Hotch opens his mouth to say something, but you interrupt him.

“You can look at those casefiles tomorrow, a fire is not the best light source when reading and making notes.” Hotch sighs, knowing that irritatingly you got a point. You smile a quick smile before going to the bathroom. While you’re in there the lights you had turned on before come back to light, but Hotch is quick to turn them off, two small clicks following right after one another. You check the oven in the bathroom, turning it down to half, knowing that should keep the temperature above freezing at least.

Neither you or Hotch speak another word to each other before going to bed, curled up almost fully clothed in your respective bed in the already colder room, even with the fire now going quite well in the fireplace.

You close your eyes, sure that sleep will come easy, as it was not that long ago you had almost fallen asleep while reading, nodding off between each sentence on the page.

But sleep doesn’t come.

Instead, you lay there, head empty of any thoughts, calm, but still you just can’t sleep.

You hear the wind blowing outside, each gust of wind making the cabin creak and groan quietly, barely there, but noticeable in the quiet of the night. The fireplace crackles, giving back at least some of that cozy feeling from earlier.

You can also hear Hotch toss and turn, which is unusual for him. The few times you had seen the man sleep or just been in the same room as him while he did so, he had been still, almost never moving other than his chest going up and down with each breath.

It takes an audible shudder coming from the other bed for you to realize why.

Hotch is cold, very much so. You can’t help the little smile that grazes your lips, almost a quiet laugh in its own right. So the cold is what does the big bad unit chief in huh?

You don’t feel good about it for long however as it’s clear that some solution to the problem is needed, as Hotch sounds no nearer to sleep than you are, and you are certain that like this neither of you will get any rest soon. So you cast a glance over at the fireplace before quickly getting out of your bed. Hotch quietly speaks your name, a question more than anything else. You drag your mattress, your pillow and duvet in front of the fireplace and put it down, turning to face Hotch, who has propped himself up on an elbow, confusion in his knitted brows.

“Come here.”

“What.” The tone is deadpan, not really a question in the word.

“I can hear your teeth clatter, I know you’re cold, so take your duvet and get in front of the fire.” Hotch slowly does as he’s told, surprisingly without asking anything. Or maybe he just sees your point. He drops his duvet next to yours, farthest from the fire, but you tut, moving it closest instead.

“You’re the coldest one, so you can sleep closest to the fire.” Hotch quirks a brow, but sits down on the floor as close to the fireplace as he can.

“Are you sure there is no ulterior motive? Maybe you just want it to be me to catch fire if things go wrong.” You grin, loving when Hotch lets his humor shine through his normally stoic facade.

“Maybe.” You get down on the floor too, laying down at the same time as Hotch. Before he can really react, you pull him close to your chest. It’s the surprise of it all that lets you drag him so he’s tucked under your chin, his hands on your chest.

“What are you doing?” You feel his whole body stiffen, even his words come out like that.

“Body heat.” You hum. Hotch stays stiff for a little while, but then there’s a big sigh as he relaxes a little. Slowly, one of his arms goes over your sides, still slightly unsure about this situation. You smile, resting huffing out a small laugh.

It’s already a lot warmer this close to the fire and though sleeping on the mattress on the floor like this isn’t the best, it’s better than being cold at least. And you’re not complaining about having an excuse to hold Hotch close like this, feeling him shift as he tries to get comfortable.

You feel your eyelids grow heavy, sleep creeping up on you as you get warmer. The last thing you hear before slipping into dreamland is the crackling of the fire, and a faint snore coming from Hotch.

----

Sadly, you wake up just a few hours later needing to pee. You somehow manage to get up without waking Hotch, so you are as quiet as you can be while doing your business. He’s still asleep when you get back, face relaxed.

You stop briefly to watch him sleep, as weird as you know it is. It’s just that you rarely see Hotch without a frown or a face made of stone, so you drink in the sight as long as you dare. Which is only a few seconds, but you stop yourself when you yawn.

With quiet steps you walk over to the mattress, slipping under the duvet and back to the shared warmth. This time it’s you that are dragged into Hotch’s arms as he mumbles something in his sleep. You try not to make any sound of surprise, as not to wake him still. You don’t mind this turn of events at all, as Hotch mumbles some words into your hair before they yet again turn to occasional soft snores. Letting out another yawn, you slip an arm over Hotch’s waist and let sleep take you.

----

It’s still dark out when you wake next, although this time of year it doesn’t say much.

This time it was Hotch moving that woke you, as your arms have made their way around his chest like he has done with his, holding him close and feeling his every move. You can tell by his breathing and movements that he’s awake, so you slowly talk, more or less asking the only question you have right into his chest.

“What time is it?” Another movement, most likely checking his phone.

“6:30 AM.” You groan, his deep and sleep laden voice doing things to your heart and brain you don’t have the awake awareness to think about right now.

“Back to sleep it is.” Hotch chuckles.

“This is past the time I would normally get up.”

“Is the storm still going on outside?” You both listen, and yes, over the low crackling of the now almost dead fire you can still hear the wind taking a hold of everything around it.

“Sounds like it.”

“Great, more sleep for us Aaron.” You can’t see the raised eyebrow, but you can almost hear it in his voice.

“Aaron?” You nod, trying to get in the perfect position to go back to sleep.

“Yeah, it feels weird using your last name when I’m cuddling with you.”

“Sharing body heat.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever.” Aaron chuckles, and weirdly enough he ruffles your hair a bit. Your heart aches at the familiarity of the motion, but again, not awake enough for any of that.

It is then that it happens. In your effort to get comfortable, you shift your leg a little to high, and suddenly your thigh rubs against a clothed, but very obivous, erection. Aaron draws in a small sharp breath as you turn to stone for a few seconds.

“I’m sorry, I, uh-” Suddenly more awake, but still not quite there yet, you say nothing at first. You could have made some lame joke about it you suppose, but instead you are just as awkward as him.

“It, it’s uh, fine, um..” Silence for a few beats, then you come to a mutual and unspoken agreement to just ignore it.

However, you find that no matter how hard you try, you can’t.

You’re not pressed up against his crotch or anything anymore, you moved your leg way too fast out of the way for that to still be the case.

But you are still in Aaron’s arms, which makes it hard not to think about it. He’s warm, a little soft, strong, and you can smell his cologne this close. His breath is steady, but too steady, like he’s trying to will himself to sleep. Your head almost spins by the feeling of it all, and your thoughts are no help either, replaying the moment over and over again in your head.

The noise he had made had made you stiffen, perhaps from other reasons than you would like to admit.

You don’t know how long you both lay there, trying to or pretending to be asleep, but you know it feel like forever and torture of the slowest kind.

An idea slips into your mind before you can really stop it, making everything else go quiet.

What if you did it again?

You had for a long time admired Aaron, perhaps in more ways than you were willing to admit to yourself or anyone else. And in some fleeting and weak moments you had thought he might be too. A lingering glance or two during a case when he thought you wouldn’t notice, him letting small smiles slip onto his face more often when you were around, him bringing you coffee from time to time.

Taking a deep breath, you steady yourself as you move your leg again.

Another sharp breath from Aaron.

“What are you doing?” He asks as you still with your thigh pressed up against his still there erection.

“Trying something.” A beat where neither of you move.

“Stop me if you want.” Aaron says nothing and does nothing, so slowly, oh ever so slowly, you use your leg to rub against him. His breath deepens, and one of his hands moves to your hip, but doesn’t push you away, simply letting it rest there. Your own hands roam across his back, shifting, fluttering, trying to find purpose. In the end you grasp the back of his t-shirt as you slowly start to try to move him too.

Aaron groans, something that makes your own dick start to stir, and then he’s moving, and oh.

He seems in no rush, just rocking his hips ever so slightly forward, pressing himself against your thigh.

His breath is speeding up, and so is yours, almost panting in the quiet of the room.

As good as you are sure it feels, you want more, you almost need more. Removing one hand from his back, you replace your thigh with your hand, rubbing and fully feeling Aaron’s dick strain against the front of his pants. A hitch in his breath, an audible swallow, him continuing to move, now into your hand, spurs you on.

As far as you can tell through the fabric, Aaron is rather large, and certainly excited. You let your hand wander, squeeze, and rub as you please, every so often pausing to grab at his thigh instead, teasingly letting your fingers drag and dance along it.

A thought, and then your other hand is in front of you, gently touching his chest. You back away a few inches, careful to keep your touch still on him. Casting a glance upwards as you start to push his t-shirt up from his stomach, you’re met with intense eyes watching your every move. You swallow, Aaron’s eyes shift to follow the motion, then to your lips as you lick them.

He lets you push his t-shirt up under his armpits, and only then does he do any of the work himself, lifting himself up slightly so he can take it off and drop it on the floor behind you. You don’t let your eyes or hand linger on his scars, instead focusing on his chest.

He’s less hairy than you imagined, but you don’t care at all.

And you had imagined it.

But nothing could compare to the real deal. Feeling him turn to putty in your hands as you rub him through his pants, hear him groan as you let your hand brush against a nipple.

“God, fuck, you-” Aaron stops himself, letting out another groan as you you lean forward and plant a kiss on his chest.

“Ah, fuck, come here.” Before you can ask what he means, there’s a hand in your hair yanking you up, and then you’re kissing him.

You’re kissing Aaron Hotchner.

Fuck.

Fuck yes.

In less than a second you’re kissing back, mouths uncoordinated and messy as they meet. Your hand which had stopped rubbing him, starts up again while you kiss, and he moans into your mouth, which, fuck, that’s hot.

Both of his hands tangled in your hair pull you even closer as you both almost forget you need to breathe, only breaking apart to gulp down some air before diving right back in, lips moving firmly against each other.

Aaron is the first to add tongue, which makes you let out a little gasp, giving him full access.

He takes the opportunity, and not to be outdone, you move your hand from his bulge to the button on his pants. A noise of disappointment turns into a small moan as he realizes what you are doing. With all the noises he is making against your lips, it’s hard to concentrate, so you break the kiss so you can concentrate on zipping him down, and getting into his pants. Aaron moves forward so he can kiss along your throat, letting his teeth nip along the little skin that is showing from under your shirt.

“Fuck!” You groan, feeling the small smile Aaron can’t hide as he kisses your skin.

“Could get used to hearing that more often.”

“Yeah, good, fuck.” You curse whoever invented zippers as you fumble with it as if you were a fucking teenager.

Finally, a few seconds later, you are able to shove your hand into Aaron’s underwear and the smug smile you could feel against your skin turns into a moan.

“Fuck.” It’s low, but you hear it, glancing at him with a grin.

“I would like to hear that too.” You say as you start to pump his length, using his pre-cum as lubrication. Another nip to your skin makes you moan.

“At least your shirts have higher collars.” Aaron teases as he moves his hands from your hair to the hem of your t-shirt, dragging it up. You let go of him only so you can take it off fully, then your hands are right back on him. One on his dick, the other tugging slightly at a nipple.

Aaron drags you in for a kiss, and you moan into his mouth as he lets his hands wander all over you. Up your sides, over your chest, down your stomach. Your breath hitches as you think you know where he is going, but instead his hands settles on your ass, pulling you even closer, so close you can barely move your arm, but fuck, he raises his leg a little and now your hard dick is rubbing against his thigh. He rocks forward, seeking friction for you both, and you can’t help but moan into his mouth.

His cock is heavy in your hand, heat radiating from all off him were you are pressed close, still under the duvets. Your movements aren’t rushed, neither of you in a hurry to finish, but fuck, it feels good. Every rock of Aaron’s hips moves his dick in your hand, and presses him against yours, building up on the desire you feel taking over you.

One of his hands move from your ass to your hair, pulling at it as he stops kissing you briefly to moan into your throat.

“I’m close, fuck.” Your eyes flicker all over his face, greedily drinking in the look in his face. The normally stoic Aaron coming apart in your hands  is a sight to behold. Hair sticking in every possible direction, breathing heavy trough kiss-bruised lips is a sight you will carry forever.

You nod quickly, diving on for another kiss.

“Yeah, yeah, come on, don’t hold back on my part.” Aaron groans as he comes, cum seeping trough your fingers as he shakes apart in your hold. You keep gently stroking him as he comes down from is orgasm, stopping when a shiver runs trough his body.

You’re still pressed close, so you you notice quickly when one of his hands moves down your front. He squeezes your cock trough your pants, and you buck your hips into his hand. He chuckles, and then he’s unbuckling your pants, and within seconds his hand is around your cock and moving. You moan, trowing your head back, giving him ample space to lean forward and kiss along your neck.

“Fuck, ah, no marks.”

“Good for you that it is scarf season.” Like the fucking tease that he is Aaron lick a long stripe along your throat, but he does move further down, sucking and biting bruises into the skin on your chest as his hand moves up and down slowly on your cock.

You can’t help the noises the escapes you, moans and groans mixing with heavy breaths. his hands is firm on you, taking you closer and closer with every second, building up until your toes starts to curl.

“Fuck, A-Aaron.” He hums against your skin, placing a last kiss on your collarbone before moving so you’re on eye level once more, a hand in your hair tugging lightly.

“Don’t hold back on my part.” The words are said with a small grin his face, and you div in to kiss him as you cum, spilling all over his hand.

For a few minutes, neither of you move, just catching your breath together in silence. You are the first to move, twisting around so you can get your t-shirt back. Aaron frowns, but you just use it to wipe his hand off and yours. You kiss his knuckles after you clean them off, getting a single laugh as a reaction. Discarding the t-shirt once more, you tuck yourself back into your pants, Aaron doing the same.

A few beats more of silence, both of you not really knowing what to say.

“That was-” Aaron breaks first, but stops himself.

“Yeah...” You can’t help but slowly break into a grin, then a little laughter. He does the same, quiet laughter and a smile making your heart warm as he pulls you back into his still shirtless chest.

You let him, content and almost ready to fall asleep again, but not before you get out some last words.

“Next time I would prefer a bed though.”

“Next time?” He questions as his hand settles against your back.

“Mhm.”

“Alright, I’ll remember that.” He ruffles your hair, placing a single kiss on top of your head. Within minutes you are asleep, back to dreamland in your arms, for once content with sleeping in.

(You don’t take your scarf off on the whole way home, but if anyone in the team notices, none of them mention it, but you can see a smirk threaten to break out on Hotch’s face every time he glances at it.)

[spencersimp]

12 Days of Christmas with Spencer: Day 4

Day 4: snowball fight

Pairing: Spencer Reid x GN!Reader

Warnings: just a little bit of cursing. fluffy fluff!

A/N: did I skip yesterday yes I absolutely did but here is day 4 a day late!

12 Days of Christmas with Spencer Masterlist

“Y/N! Y/N, wake up!”

You were shaken awake by Spencer, not an uncommon occurrence given that he was your very best friend in the world and he often slept over.

You totally weren’t in love with him though.

Blinking at the harsh light, you squinted your eyes open and tried your best to give Spencer a glare. “What?”

He was grinning—it was way too early to be grinning. He looked like a damn kid in the candy store about to explode out of his skin from excitement. “It snowed overnight!”

You blinked again, this time your eyes opening wide. “Really?” It hadn’t snowed in Quantico in a couple years, and you hadn’t seen anything on the forecast lately to indicate otherwise.

“Yeah! Come look,” Spencer urged, beckoning you to come follow him to the living room.

You did a nice, big stretch to fully wake yourself up before tip-toeing behind Spencer. A gasp left your mouth when you looked out the window and saw the sparkling white blanket of snow covering everything outside of your apartment building.

Spencer was beaming. “I know, isn’t it beautiful?”

You shared a smile with him, unable to ignore the ridiculously sappy, intrusive thought that he, actually, was more beautiful. “Yeah. We should go outside!”

“You read my mind.”

The two of you quickly bundled up in thick layers complete with hats, scarves and gloves before rushing outside and damn near frolicking. Spencer was giddier than you’d seen him maybe ever, and it made you feel surprisingly warm in the freezing temperatures.

“I think I’m gonna attempt my very first snowman,” you announced. You never had much snow growing up, and even when you did, it was never enough to build a snowman. This snow, however, was more than enough, and you were going to take advantage.

Spencer’s eyebrows raised in shock. “You’ve never built a snowman?”

“Nope.” You knelt down and began gathering snow in your hands.

“Well then we are definitely building snowmen.”

The two of you worked in silence with Spencer a few feet behind you when suddenly it got…too quiet.

And that’s when you felt a cold blast hit you in the back of your head.

You whirled around, mouth falling open in shock as you stared down a very guilty Spencer. He looked like he felt bad, but also like he was about to bust out laughing any second.

“I’m sorry,” he rushed out, failing to hide a grin as he raised his arms in surrender. “I’ve—I’ve just never hit anyone with a snowball before and I kind of always wanted to because it looked fu—“

Too busy rambling out an apology, he wasn’t quick enough to stop you from gathering a ball of snow of your own and throwing it at him. Luckily for you, you had great aim. You got him right in the face as he was mid-ramble.

Spencer sputtered, wiping his face and furiously blinking away the wet snow in his eyes. “You did not.”

You bit your lip in an attempt to stifle a laugh but failed miserably. “Oh, I think I did.”

The grin on Spencer’s face only grew. “Oh, you’re so gonna get it.”

And then he was running at you.

You squealed, taking off in the opposite direction and running as fast as you could from him. Both of you were in hysterics, spitting taunts at one another in between pants as he chased you.

“Gotcha!” Strong arms wrapped around you from behind, causing you to squeal in surprise. He twirled you around as the two of you giggled wildly, but then he slipped, bringing the two of you onto the cold, cushioned, snowy ground. He landed on top of you.

You both stared at one another with smiles wide enough to split your faces in two, still panting from all the running.

“I got you,” he breathed out, his cheeks flushed.

You subconsciously licked your lips, the action not going unnoticed by Spencer. “You got me.” The two of you stared at each other in silence, finally catching your breaths. Your heart was beating wildly in your chest, and you brought your voice down to a whisper. “What are you gonna do now?”

His eyes searched yours, looking for any hesitation but finding none, and then he leaned in. Spencer Reid, your best friend and the secret love of your life, was kissing you in the snow, and it was nothing less than perfect. You wrapped your arms around his neck, keeping him close. He was kissing you like he was making up for lost time, and it left you breathless. He reluctantly pulled away when you began to shiver from laying on the snow, and he softly nuzzled your nose.

“I’ve been wanting to do that since I met you,” he admitted quietly.

“I’ve been wanting you to do that since you met me,” you replied with a grin, and he matched it.

“It sounds like I should’ve hit you with a snowball a long time ago.”

You cackled, hitting him playfully on the shoulder.

Spencer stood and helped you up, wrapping his arms around you. “Well, it looks like I’m stuck at your place for a while, not that I’m complaining. How does hot chocolate sound?”

You sighed happily.

“Sounds perfect.”

[ikwhatyouaremikewheeler]

Love story: Lucas Sinclair and Max Mayfield

Note: okay so the next few things I post will be after Taylor swift songs, mainly because I get all of my ideas from the same person, so enjoy, this is also somewhat canon compliant but Max doesn't die-

_______________________________________________

'We were both young when I first saw you I close my eyes and the flashbacks starts, I'm standing there on a balcony in summer air'

The snowball, a school sponsored winter dance right before Christmas. It was boring, with terrible music, but Max couldn't be having a better time, dancing with Lucas, talking to El and (somewhat) managing to get along with her. It was close to perfect, if you ignored the fact that a few days before that they were all Fighting some weird monsters from under the town's pumpkin patch.

'See the lights, see the party the ball gowns, see you make your way through the crowd and say hello, but little did I know.'

Max had been at the mall with El, to help her find her style. Outside of Mike, and outside of Hopper. Which has gone better than expected (even blowing up a milkshake in Stacy's face). The whole trip had ended in another sleepover, and a shirt lived break up between Mike and El. Which Max couldn't say she was disappointed in, especially since her breakup with Lucas also didn't last, neither did the last five times.

'that you were Romeo, throwing pebbles and my daddy said stay away from Juliet and I was crying on the staircase begging you please don't go.'

The mall fight was over, The mind flayer had been destroyed, along with the rest of the mall. Billy was dead, and Max was grieving, over someone she couldn't exactly save, and it was horrible. So she turned to Lucas for comfort, familiarity. And he held her through the whole ordeal, promising everything would be okay. And for a while...it was.

'and I said Romeo take me somewhere we can be alone, I'll be waiting all's there's left to do is run, you'll be the prince and I'll be the princess, it's a love story baby just say yes.'

Until everything wasn't fine, Chrissy Cunningham, the queen of Hawkins high was folded like a pretzel, and then Fred was, and well; chaos ensued. Max had been cursed, and when she had finally been set free in the graveyard, she fell into Lucas's arms. Holding onto him like if she didn't Max would go away again, or maybe they'd be separated. Lucas couldn't bare to see Max die, to be gone forever, so he held her tighter, to make sure she was okay, and still here.

'so I sneak out to the garden to see you, we keep quiet because we're dead if they knew so close your eyes, escape this town for a little while.'

The final battle was finally over, Eddie was alive, Vecna was defeated, and everyone was exhausted. Steve had drove Max home, who had been gripping onto Lucas's hand the whole ride. The danger was over, at least for now, but she was still too scared to let go, just in case it was all in her mind. But it wasn't, and she knew that, because Lucas had saved her, from joining Patrick, Chrissy and Fred on the pillars.

'Cause you were Romeo I was a Scarlett letter and my daddy said stay away from Juliet, but you were everything to me and I was begging you please don't go.'

Three years later, on Hawkins high junior prom night, Max had sat on the bleachers most of the night. She wasn't really a big dancer, and despite Nancy and her mom's help, she didn't like how she looked. Her hair was too curly and her dress was too tight, but regardless; Lucas sat with her, making jokes and just enjoying the time.

'And I said, Romeo take me somewhere we can be alone, I'll be waiting all there's left to do is run you'll be the prince and I'll be the princess, it's a love story baby just say yes.'

It was the final song of the night , which was 'Every breath you take' and it brought back all the memories from the Snowball of 1984, which was 4 years ago. So, in a split second decision, Max Pulled Lucas off the bleachers, taking him to the dance floor, putting his hands on her waist and wrapping her arms around his neck. It was clumsy, and uncoordinated, Max practically had to stand on the toes of her sneakers to not pop her shoulders, but it was still perfect.

' Romeo save me they're trying to tell me how to feel, this love is difficult but it's real, don't be afraid we'll make it out of this mess, it's a love story baby just say yes.'

Okay so, I didn't want to go too far into their life's, so it ends here and I apologize, but the end and I hope you enjoyed!!

[hockeyforthefirsttime]

Speechless- Nolan Patrick

AN: Is the ending literal trash? yes, do i care at this point? also yes, but not enough

Word count: just over 3k

TW: none that I can think of, but let me know if i need to tag something:)

i

Nolan is definitely bored at the bar. He is out and supposed to be celebrating a win, but third wheeling with Tavis and Karly, simply is not fun. Not that it ever has been, but as he watches them laugh at each other on the dance floor.. well he takes a deep sigh and an even deeper swig of his beer. Some of the team is gathered around the bar ordering another round of drinks, and as he is scanning the crowd a woman walks in front of him, making him look up at her. 

And stop dead in his thoughts. 

She is wearing jeans that cling to her curves just right, a deep magenta top that seems to wrap around her stomach, before it reveals a little more than he can handle, and he looks up at her and sees the ghost of a smile on her lips. She isn’t looking at him though. She seems to be looking into the crowded dance floor, and Nolan desperately wants to know who she is looking for. 

In any other situation like this, he would have swept her off of her feet and wouldn’t have put her down until they’d reach his bed. But her obliviousness to him has knocked him off balance it seems. 

“Hey Patty, me and Karly are gonna head home. Want a ride?” 

Travis comes up to Nolan, Karly in tow and the mysterious girl moves with a quiet sorry and a fleeting smile. Nolan can feel his eyes drift after her before he meets Travis’ eyes, which are brimming with amusement. 

“Nah, I’m good.” 

He answers, and Travis bursts out laughing. 

“What, so you can sit here and stare like some kind of creep the rest of the night?” 

Nolan sees Karly gently shoving on Travis, also having noticed Nolans lingering gaze. 

“As opposed to going home in the same car as you two rabbits? No thank you.” 

Travis and Karly bid their goodbyes as the rest of the team and their significant others appear back at the table. Nobody seems to take notice of the Nolans distantness though, pinning it down as just his Philly personality. Nobody really sees him staring at this girl dancing in vans and a pink top. 

As the song ends he watches her go up to the bar, so in normal Nolan fashion he gets up and heads in that direction. He takes a look down at his watch and in a second, a split fucking second, she is gone. 

ii

He’s so fucking tired. The game last night had been decent. They’d won in overtime and Nolan had the assist, yet he keeps going over the chances he had and the chances he missed making in his head. Driving to the rink is dreary but even more so than usual. It’s not until he stops at a red light that he wakes up. He’s supporting his head on his left arm and looking out the passenger seat window. His eyes widen when he sees who is in the beaten up truck next to him. 

The girl from the bar three weeks ago. She has her hair down her shoulders and is looking at him through her own window. When she catches his eyes, she gives him a wink. As if she recognizes him. And if this was anyone else he might have given her a half smile, or even a wink back. But no. He can feel his cheeks heating up and getting rosy. God how he wishes he could be as confident as he usually is. The girl in the other car seems to be laughing a little, a smile on her lips. Nolan swears she starts slipping away from view, and in that second he remembers. He’s at a fucking red light. Except it isn’t red anymore, made obvious by the boisterous truck behind him, basically laying on his horn. 

Quickly he presses his foot down on the gas pedal and looks for the beaten up truck, which is nowhere to be seen. 

iii

It’s still winter and Nolan for some reason unknown to him decides to take a walk in the park not far from his apartment. He blames it on his restlessness, which stems from sitting inside the entire weekend. It’s nearing Christmas time and the main section of the park is covered in fairy lights and christmas decorations. There’s even a stand that sells hot chocolate. 

He buys a cup, puts in his earbuds and starts walking. It is nice out, he decides, with all the people out enjoying the snow on the ground. There are even some kids out rolling big snowballs, which turn into snow men and women. He feels a sudden wave of content roll over him. And a smile subconsciously finds its way onto his lips.

Nolan walks a little further, and doesn’t really stop, until a ball of golden fur is at his feet, almost making him trip. The wagging tail is making the entire body of the dog move and he catches himself smiling and taking out one of the earbuds. Immediately he hears the voice of a girl shouting. 

“Akira!”

The dog at his feet, looks around eagerly as her owner sprints up to him. And Nolan can hardly believe his luck. It is the bar girl. 

“I’m so sorry, she usually doesn’t run off like that.” 

And judging by her attire she is out for a jog, which would explain how out of breath she is. Quickly she pulls a leash out of her pocket and hooks it onto Akira’s harness. 

“Oh there’s no worries.” 

Nolan manages to stutter out. He sees a little smirk on her lips and curses his reddening cheeks for being so obvious. He bends his head a little and scratches Akira behind her ears. The golden retriever leans into his touch and a soft chuckle escapes the girl standing in front of him. 

He is just about to ask the girl her name when a phone starts ringing. It’s hers. Quickly, from another pocket, she pulls out a phone and answers it. He watches with steady eyes as a frown starts to grow on her face. 

“Fuck, okay yeah, I’ll be home in a few.” 

She hangs up the phone and pockets it, before she turns to look at him again. With a wink she turns around and Akira follows. 

“See you around Shy Guy!”

And just like that she’s gone. His chocolate is no longer hot, so he tracks back to his apartment, with discouragement sitting in his chest like a rock.

iiii

The Starbucks is so full, the line goes through the door and that’s the reason why Nolan doesn’t even consider entering it. He turns and treks back a block until he sees this quaint little cafe he’s never really noticed. Which is no surprise, because it seems to be mostly inhabited by students. With the amount of computers and books up at the cafe tables and its location closer to UPenn it should come as no surprise. 

And maybe he gets a little hopeful that the bar girl will be there, so despite his logical mind, he enters through the glass doors and goes straight to the counter. The boy has to be around his own age, but a fair bit skinnier and with glasses on. It makes him look a bit too young in Nolan's eyes, but it doesn’t really matter. 

“Hey, what can I get you today?” 

The young boy asks as he wipes down the counter. 

“Ehh, just a large black coffee, please.” 

Nolan says and pulls out his wallet. He doesn’t completely register the bell over the door ringing, not until the gust of cold air washes over him. Instinctively he turns and spots a smaller frame entering the cafe. A hoodie over their head and a black jacket, lightly dusted with quickly melting snow.  And a pair of beaten up, black vans on their feet. His hopes rise, and yet again he is rewarded with the presence of the bar girl. She shakes out her hair a little as she pulls the hood off of her head. Nolan could swear his heart stopped right there. The evening sun shines through the window, making her hair appear as a halo around her. 

She hasn’t noticed him yet. So he turns and tries to calm his blush. The guy behind the counter has begun making his coffee so he doesn’t really know what to do. The bar girl comes up behind him. He can tell by the way the barista nods at her with a smile. 

“Hey Dylan, how are you today?” 

And Nolan is instantly a bit jealous of this Dylan, who gets to hear his name falling from her lips. 

“I’m good Rory, thanks, how are you?” 

Dylan answers, and it feels like his heart is in his throat. Her name is Rory? It suits her. 

“Could be better to be honest, this paper on existence due next week is really kicking my ass.” 

She answers as she comes closer, and Nolan moves further up the counter to give them room. 

“Tell me about it, you want the usual?” 

She nods and slings her backpack off one shoulder to unzip a pocket, and pulls out a card. Dylan finishes Nolan's order and places it on the corner of the counter. Nolan can feel his chance slip through his fingers and begins to panic a little. 

Until he spots a pen on the counter near his cup. Quickly he grabs it and scribbles his name and number on the cup. And he couldn’t have cued it better for AV to call him. He puts the cup down again and picks up the call. 

“Nolan, have you looked over the videos yet?”

Alain, straight to the point as usual. 

“Yeah, saw them yesterday, and I have some ideas in mind for me to improve.” 

He speaks into the phone, while he puts a hand on the back of his neck. 

“Good good, I will see you tomorrow then?” 

“Yes, sir. Bright and early.” 

And then they hang up. He sees that another cup has appeared beside his. He throws a quick glance at Rory, who is still talking to the barista,  and turns his cup the other way so the writing isn’t visible and grabs her cup. Then, he nods a goodbye to Dylan and exits the door. 

He’s almost half a block away when his phone rings. He hasn’t drunk out of the cup, but it smells a little sweet and enticing. He looks at the phone and sees an unknown number. He lets it ring twice more before answering.

“Hey, this is Nolan?” 

He tries to sound nonchalant. 

“Hey, Shy guy. This is Rory. You didn’t by any chance grab my coffee on the way out?” 

Despite the fact that he doesn’t actually know her, he swears he can hear a smile over the phone. And he is a little bit shocked by the nickname. 

“Oh, so this is who it belongs to?”

She lets out a little chuckle, before she answers. 

“Yeah, mind returning it?” 

He smiles at the laugh. 

+1

Nolan is different, not that he will admit it, but the team can tell. He seems to be more patient, more focused on practicing drills and getting them right, and also for some reason, more ready for practice to be over. At first it’s a subtle change, but after a while and two games where he plays over all very well, it seems to be more than just determination. It seems like he wants to impress someone. 

At first they shake it as him wanting to prove himself to.. well everyone. But one day when Oskar asks him who he is texting so frequently, Nolan can feel his cheeks and ears tint even more than usual. Damn her and the effect she has on him. He tries to play it cool with a casual shrug, but half the locker room seems to burst out laughing. Quickly he puts his phone in his pocket and heads for the door. 

“Have a good weekend guys!” 

He calls out behind him out of habit, as it is a weekend without games and he is taking a short trip home. Various chirps get called out behind him, but Teeks seems to be the loudest one. 

“Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!” 

And all hell breaks loose as they all start on chirping Travis about how he can do anything then. With a fond smile, Nolan heads for his car, where he has a pre- packed bag as well as his passport and a carryon. 

He parks his car in the airport parking lot and he swears, there is something familiar about the truck beside his car. He shoves it to the back of his mind and starts crossing to the terminal. He’s late tho, and only half an hour to get on his flight, so as he anxiously stands in line for check in he pulls up his phone and sees a new text from Rory.

Hey, I’ll be gone for a couple of hours, text when I can:)

It was sent five minutes ago, and he groans a little at the fact that he has to wait faster, very bored. Finally he has checked in his bag and been cleared to enter the airport all the way to his flight. 

In a half jog, half sprint he manages to make it just shy of ten minutes before the gate closes. He pulls his cap further down on his head and puts his ticket and passport on the desk. The hostess scowls at him but lets him enter the already boarded plane. 

The smell of too many people and bad flight food smacks him in the face as he enters the plane with another nod to a different flight hostess. 

34B seems too far away, but he bites his tongue and keeps walking. He looks at the bald man in 34C and the hooded figure in 34A. He swears, there is something familiar about this too but his mind is a little fuzzy and he can’t quite place it. 

“Scuse me.” 

He mumbles to the man and he politely moves so Nolan can find his seat. The girl in the seat next to the window turns and looks at him, and finally it seems that he has steady ground under his feet. 

“Well, seems like I won’t text you in a couple of hours then.” 

Rory smiles at him. And he smiles back. 

“Nope you’re stuck with me for the next five and a half hours.” 

He teases and plops down in his seat. 

“What the fuck are you going to Winnipeg for though?” 

Nolan asks as he fastens his seatbelt and ignores the security instructions completely. 

“Oh I haven’t told you? My family lives there.” 

He feels flabbergasted, how in the living hell has he forgotten to ask? He always assumed she was from Philly.

“Why are you going there anyway?” 

Rory asks, but he sees the twinkle in her eyes, she’s just joking with him.

“I’m visiting my girlfriend.” 

He decides to reply dead serious. And the twinkle in her eyes disappears, a frown begins to form between her eyebrows and he instantly feels a little bad. 

“I’m- sorry, that was a really bad joke.” 

This time it seems, it’s her turn to get embarrassed. Neither of them get time to think it over though, because the plane starts accelerating and her hand immediately lands on his. He sees her jaw tense and feels her hand tighten around his knuckles. Nolan doesn’t want to comment on it though, and just lets her hold on. 

As they lift off the tarmac her hand slowly starts easing up and when they level out in the air, she seems to have realised that she’s holding his hand. Quickly she lets go, and Nolan already misses it. 

“Sorry about that, I get a little nervous about the take off.” 

She seems a little nervous to admit it, but he asks anyway. 

“How come?” 

“Oh, ever heard of the irresistible force paradox?” 

He shakes his head no, and that launches her into an explanation of what happens when an unstoppable force meets an immovable object. It’s obvious she loves theories like this, with the way she talks and moves her hands. 

“- which stems from both a chinese and a roman legend. The roman is about Zeus and how he fixed the Teumessian fox, who can never be caught, and the hound Laelaps who never misses what he hunts to the sky in constellations.” 

She stops, and Nolan really wishes she wouldn’t. Her voice is so calming yet enchanting at the same time, he could listen and learn every day for forever. 

“But wouldn’t that mean that the fox wins? because it never gets caught?” 

He questiones. 

“Exactly! I’ve been thinking about it for days now.” 

And the plane ride goes on like that, until Rory has heard of most of the flyers and Nolan knows the name of almost all her professors. It’s closer to night time when she starts to slur her words, because of tiredness. She ends up with her head on his shoulder and his hair a little bit in her face. But the weight of his head leaning against hers is priceless.  

Nolan wakes up a little bit before her and sees that they’re landing soon. So he shakes Rory awake with a promise of a date in the morning. Since they don’t live too far away from each other. And she agrees. 

They step off the plane together, collect their luggage together, Nolan’s arm slung around Rory’s shoulder, and hug each other so long, before departing to their own separate families. 

“Hey, see you tomorrow shy guy!” 

She winks at him, rendering him speechless in front of his family. His sister glances at him with a questioning look as she watches the other girl walk away. Usually few people render Nolan at a loss for words. 

[fandom-monium]

For the Holidays - Part 2

Summary: In which Spencer doesn’t want to go to his high school reunion, but you tagging along changes things. “It’ll be nice... having a friend there.”

WC: 1.8k

Tags/Warnings: Spencer Reid x GN!Reader, fake-dating trope, pining (so much pining), insecure and in-denial Spencer, light cursing, (tbh with all the shit that happens in CM they should be cussing way more)

Spencer doesn’t text you. But he’s tried.

First thing he got home, he tossed his bag aside and ripped off his blazer before he threw himself on the couch, digging through his pockets for his phone. Screw reading, taxes, dinner. There are more important things at stake here.

But he’s been sitting there for an hour, glaring at the empty text box with disdain, willing for words to appear.

No such luck.

Spencer writes essays and academic journals in an hour but formulating a simple text? He curses the universe for only making him academically gifted.

He runs a hand through his hair. Maybe he should call? No, you said text. And he doesn’t trust himself enough to have a verbal conversation with you. He will get tongue-tied.

Shit, what does he even say?

It’s not entirely his fault, alright? He’s never been put in a position like this before, except when he goes undercover. And even then everything is planned for him with little contribution on his part⎼he makes small edits to better fit the profiles but that’s about it. All he has to do is scan the file once and in seconds he has his fake identity, his fake backstory, and whatever fake details make up his fake life.

But this. This is different. He has to be brave because it’s you, and he has to chill out because this is supposed to be fake, he reminds himself. Both are tasks within themselves. And yeah, he’s a genius but as Albert Einstein once said, knowledge has its limits.

Shit, his thoughts are so jumbled he can’t even quote properly. This is all your fault.

You.

He still has to text you.

Spencer groans and flops on the couch, the phone clattering to the floor. He doesn’t bother, laying there until there’s an imprint of his butt in the cushions. He stares at the ceiling.

He remembers that you were the one to say yes. He hadn’t directly asked you but you agreed anyway, which means you are willing to spend time with him. Which means you like him (enough). Which means you are friends, and friends help friends out when they are in trouble.

Like needing a fake date.

He rolls onto his stomach, lips pursed as he stares over the edge of the couch. His phone glints in the lamp light.

Just friends helping each other out. Nothing out of the ordinary.

Spencer takes a deep breath and picks up the phone.

He can do this.

⎼

He can’t do this.

“I’m so excited,” Next to Spencer, you nestle into the seat and adjust the fuzzy blanket over your lap, eyes gleaming. “It’ll be nice to see where you grew up.”

Spencer only offers you a tight smile. His eyes dart about as the other passengers settle in, switching seats and fiddling luggage into the overhead compartments. Some of them already requesting for airplane food. Who in their right mind actually wants airplane food?

Spencer really wants to be as excited as you, and he is; he finally gets to spend some time with you outside of work, without the rest of the team hovering (waiting for one of you to make a damn move). It’s almost nice.

If only he can enjoy himself.

His knee bounces nonstop. Against the armrest his fingers tap a rhythm matching the thrum of his heart. And his hair is even more wild having run his hands through it repeatedly before meeting up with you.

He isn’t used to this, being alone with you. Sure, you partner up at work, in cases⎼hell, you've even accompanied each other to a few events. But those were as friends.

Technically, you’re his date. His romantic partner.

Spencer’s never let himself delve deep into his fantasies; he’s imagined (more times than he’d like to admit) taking you on dates to your favorite places, you in his arms, him in your arms⎼you know, minus the imminent danger. All the sweet things that couples do. But they always seemed out of reach. So he’d cut them off, squash the ideas before they went any further. False hope only hurts if you give in.

But now you’re on a plane, rocking in your seat as you hum to yourself, genuinely thrilled at the prospect of seeing his hometown.

This is more than he’s ever imagined. He feels like his heart’s about to burst.

Someone needs to call the bomb squad, real quick.

“Reid.”

"Hm?"

"Are you alright?" You're looking at him, voice drenched in so much concern his stomach twists. He made you worry. He feels guilty.

“Yeah-uh-” He clears his throat, attempting a smile. It’s a sad parody of the real thing. ”I'm fine.“

You raise an eyebrow and scoff, "Okay, I think I know why you're being weird. At least, weirder than usual."

Spencer’s heart drops. He leans back as you lean across your shared armrest, catching the sympathy in your eyes. He stiffens, bracing himself for the rejection. He should have known sooner or later you’d notice his not-so-friendly affections towards you. Of course you did, he isn’t exactly subtle; all the lunches, the museum tours, the stars in his eyes when you wrestle down unsubs⎼

"You’re nervous about seeing your old classmates again."

⎼Or, he’s much better at hiding it than he thought.

Spencer can only watch in awe as you continue, “And it’s totally natural. I mean, I haven’t been to a reunion, but I’d feel weird too if I got to see my classmates after all these years. But have no fear, (Your Name) is here.” You cringe, suddenly abashed. “Unless I’m completely off the mark and now you regret bringing me along. Oh no, that’s it, isn’t? You’re uncomfortable with the whole couples act.”

Spencer shakes his head, and for the first time since take off, he chuckles, “What? No, I’m happy that you’re here. And I couldn't think of anyone better to play my partner.” A relieved smile from you and he shrugs, feigning nonchalance. He fiddles with his sleeve. “But yeah, you got me. I am nervous.”

Which isn’t exactly a lie. You're here, next to him. That's more than enough reason to be.

If he had to be honest, between you and organizing the trip, he almost forgot about the reunion. Then again, he never liked reflecting on his high school years. For obvious reasons.

But your perception is a bucket of ice water over his head. Now he’s wide awake.

You’re doing this because you’re friends. You just want to help.

Friendship never hurt so much.

“I didn’t mention it before, but I’m sure you’re aware I wasn’t exactly the most popular kid in school, being 6 years younger and all,” Spencer swallows the ache. You nod in understanding.

Bright, brown eyes meet yours. He bites his lip. “So, I appreciate you coming with me. It’ll be nice... having a friend there.”

A split second.

Spencer glances away as he says 'friend'. The word leaves such a bittersweet taste he has to hold back a grimace, look anywhere else but you. The word just doesn’t sit right with him.

If he hadn’t looked away, he would have caught the way your smile dropped.

You nearly forgot, though you’re on holiday, this is a mission of sorts. This isn’t about you or how you feel. This is about Spencer. You berate yourself, remembering you're not a teenager anymore; you're a fucking adult and mature adults don't squee at their coworkers.

No matter how cute and adorable they are.

“Of course,” You plaster on a smile and finger the edge of your blanket, unintentionally mirroring him. "Your welcome."

Spencer gives you that white-person smile you love so much. You have to bite back a laugh.

To distract yourself, you pull out your phone and open the Chess app, holding it out to him. "Now, how about that rematch?"

Spencer's face lights up like a Christmas tree.

And as you immerse yourselves into another close match, you feel your confidence grow with every move, chuckling as Reid grumbles about you cheating (you’re not, he’s just a sore loser). You’re an FBI agent, for fuck’s sake. You played spouse and romantic partners for weeks, months. A weekend is nothing.

You can manage playing pretend with a coworker. Just operate like this is any other undercover assignment.

You can pretend you’re in love with Spencer Reid. You can handle it.

You can handle it.

⎼

You can’t handle it.

As one would expect, it’s hard to not fall in love with Spencer Reid. Just as it’s hard not to show it.

It feels like only yesterday the lanky man quite literally stumbled his way into your world and you decided, ‘Him. I will protect him with my life.’ And while you’d totally do that for anyone on the team, with Reid, it hits different.

After you landed in Las Vegas, you had a couple hours to kill before the reunion started, and as the good friend and partner you are, you suggested he show you all the places he frequented when he was little. For research, of course. After all, you’re playing his partner, so the more you know the better.

It’s definitely not because you’re invested in his life. Because that would be unprofessional.

(The way he beamed at you was totally worth it though.)

Then one step in the direction of his favorite eatery and he slipped on a patch of ice. You caught him in time, but the way he looked at you, brown eyes wide and filled with awe, made you feel things you shouldn't feel for a coworker.

It only snowballed from there. Everything about him is just so… endearing.

But you’re at your limit.

Love and affection threatens to spill out of you. Your hands flex in your coat pockets, itching to grab Spencer’s pretty face. Even your chest aches from your heart having swollen twice its size. You feel like you’re about to explode.

This might be the most difficult mission you’ve ever worked.

But this is it, you realize as you stand in front of the closed auditorium doors. This is the final lap. Where everything you’ve practiced really matters. You just have to keep up the charade for a few hours, then you won’t have to struggle to fight back the hearts in your eyes.

Although, your clothes fit tighter than you remember and you’re trembling. Why the fuck are you trembling?

Next to you Spencer eyes the double doors, almost like he’s daunted by them.

Multi-colored lights filter into the dark hallway, silhouettes flickering and shifting from the crack under the door as cheery holiday music faintly streams from behind them, accompanied by shouts and laughter. From his old classmates. Who are most likely making jokes at his expense.

Spencer already wants to go home.

“Ready, Doc?” As if sensing his hesitation, you offer a smile and an arm to him. Your eyes gleam with resolve. It’s more than enough for the both of you.

You can do this.

A deep breath, he slips his arm into yours. “Yep.”

He can do this.

Together, you open the doors.

AN: 2/4?? 

note: don’t expect part 3 to come out as quick. it’ll contain panic/anxiety descriptions and id like to take my time to write it best :))) i hope you enjoyed the last bit of happiness for a while :))))

also i apologize that i havent gotten to all the requests!! the ones posted on my masterlist are the ones currently being dealt with, but i’ll get through them eventually thx for the patience :D

i remember seeing a post ab Hotch x Prentiss and I didn’t get it but watching CM over again 

i get it i so get it. when theyve both gone to each other’s homes? *tears up*

and my hate for seaver has been reinforced :)))))

[rainydaydream-gal18]

(Clone Wars- The Bad Batch) Snow Day: Crosshair’s Ending

  Link to Intro

    “I’m definitely overthinking this,” you muttered aloud, turning away from the mirror.  With a sigh, you faced the door.  At the very least, you would be spending time with your favorite team, and that included him.

   The end of the snowball fight replayed itself in your mind.

   “I think we can win this,” you exclaimed with a laugh.  It really did seem that way.  Despite Wrecker’s strength and Tech’s brains, your team was successfully overwhelming the two of them.  The strategy was working.

   Or at least, it was working until a certain point.

   In the heat of the moment, all you could think about was escaping the latest giant snowball that Wrecker chucked at you.  Fortunately, you dodged it with a laugh.

   “Nice try!” you joked, stumbling through the blanket of snow.  It took some effort because it was so deep.  In fact, it was so deep that from where you stood, you couldn’t see it dip down significantly a few feet in front of you.  You were so focused on the fight that you didn’t hear Crosshair’s warning as you took your next couple of steps.

   You yelped as the snow dropped down beneath your boot.  For a split second, it felt like you’d go down with it.  An arm wrapped around your torso and pulled you away from the edge of the drop with ease.  Your eyes travelled up to meet the gaze of its owner right next to your face.  All of a sudden, you were aware of how close the sharpshooter was.  His arm was still firmly wrapped around you,  securing you to his chest as he breathed in and out.

   “Oh my goodness,” you breathed.  “That could’ve been a twisted ankle.”

   Crosshair acknowledged your statement with a grunt and a nod.  He didn’t release you until he had pulled you further away from the drop so you wouldn’t accidentally fall in again.  “Just be careful next time, okay?”

   You smiled gratefully.  “Yeah, I will.  Thank you.”

   Crosshair gazed at you, muttering a “you’re welcome.” He was looking at you so intently in a way that gave you goosebumps, like the frosty air.  You had to admit that it was enjoyable to watch him lock onto a target, but being the recipient of such a focused gaze made your heart flutter.

   “What?” you asked, swiping a gloved hand across your cheek instinctively.  “Is there something on my face?”

   “No.”  He paused.  “You just... look pretty in the snow.”

   It was a simple statement, and he said it somewhat casually, though his eyes betrayed stronger feelings behind the words.  It left you unable to think of a response, and so you stood there, returning his gaze in surprise.  The moment was interrupted when Hunter tossed a snowball in your direction.

   “Do we need to give you a minute?” he asked.  Though his tone was playful, his eyes were incredulous, as if he wondered if perhaps he did mean the question.  Crosshair grumbled under his breath, and you quickly shook your head.  “Alright then, let’s end this snowball fight once and for all.”

   It ended pretty quickly after that.  Your thoughts were filled with the encounter with Crosshair, and he seemed unusually distant from the game- like his mind was elsewhere too.  Your team suffered a crushing defeat, but that was the least of your problems.

   You stood there facing the door, happy to be in warm clothes, but nervous about facing him again.  Crosshair hadn’t said much to you since then.  He normally wasn’t much of a talker, but he was usually nearby.  You usually felt his presence remain close to you, but this time there was a distance.

   Finally, you mustered up some courage and decided to leave your quarters.  The others were waiting for you, and you realized there was an incoming transmission.  It was a short one, but it required immediate action.  Fortunately, there was still some time before the Bad Batch’s ship would arrive at the mission location, so there was an opportunity to enjoy some peace and quiet in the meantime.

   Crosshair was as quiet as ever as he sipped his caf in his seat.  Tech was tinkering at his workbench, and Hunter and Wrecker were in their respective spots on the couch with their own cups of caf.  You grabbed your favorite hot drink and got settled on the couch, casting an occasional glance at the sharpshooter.

   At some point, you noticed Crosshair gazing at you.  When you offered a smile, he tipped his head slightly in acknowledgement.  That was a good sign that caused your smile to widen.  As the night went on, the others engaged in idle discussion about a variety of topics.  Eventually, Hunter announced that he was going to turn in early to get some rest.  Next, Tech went to his own quarters.  Then Wrecker.  You nearly shivered at the realization that it was just you and Crosshair.

   “Well, I guess I’m going to get some sleep too,” you yawned, standing to your feet.  Rather than deal with a potentially awkward situation, you figured you’d escape.  You dumped the remaining (favorite drink) that got cold and started for the hall to your quarters.  “Goodnight, Crosshair.”

   “Wait.”

   You halted, surprised at the firm statement.  You turned around to see Crosshair approaching, eyes trained to yours.  He got really close quite fast, and your first instinct was to take a few steps back.  Only, you were backed against a wall.

   “There’s something you need to know.” His eyes searched your face and he took in the proximity.  “Is this... okay?”

   Without your eyes leaving his for a second, you whispered, “yes.”

   He nodded then, and braced a hand against the wall beside you.  “There’s something you need to know, _________.  I’m not...I’m not good at this.  Talking about my feelings.”

   Your heartbeat quickened as he paused, tipping his head to observe you again.  “Well, you could give it a try,” you said quietly.  “I’m sure I’d like to hear what you have to say.”

   His generally sharp gaze had softened more than you’d ever seen in him before, and it made your heart do flips as he reached a hand up to tenderly cup your face, as if you’d break.

   “I was hoping you’d let me show you,” he said.

   “And how would you do that?”

   “With a kiss.”

   You smiled at that and gave a small nod.  “I’d like that.”  Your eyes fluttered shut as he slowly leaned in, lips hovering over yours for a moment.

   Someone cleared their throat in the hall.  When you and Crosshair quickly pulled away, you saw that the someone was Hunter.  “Oh, um.”  The leader’s brow quirked while a smirk was plastered on his face.  “Sorry to interrupt.  I lost my chrono.  Thought it might be in the couch cushions.”  You ducked your head in embarrassment while Crosshair rolled his eyes.  Hunter did a quick search of the cushions before shrugging.  “Huh.  Guess not.  Well, ‘night.”  He gave you one last look with a raised brow before disappearing down the hall.

   “Oh my goodness,” you mumbled.  “He totally did that on purpose, didn’t he?”

   “That...honestly wouldn’t surprise me.”

[spicykoreantatertots]

Warmth

~~~~~~~

Pairing: Jungkook and Female Reader

Word Count: 900

Rating: R, 18+

Genres: NSFW, Established Relationship, Fluff, and Smut

Warnings: Flirty Jungkook, Oral (female receiving), Unprotected Sex

A/N: Merry Christmas @jjungkooksthighs​!! I am SO sorry this took FOREVER to post!! As you know I was visiting my girlfriend for Christmas and that included two 22 hour road trips! I hope you can enjoy this little Jungkook Christmas drabble. I hope it leaves you feeling warm. Lots of love, Dasher!

Shoutout to @thesoftsoobin​ for the AMAZING mood board. ily

~~~~~~~

Breathe in the frigid air, watch your breath dissipate into the evening sky. The sun has almost finished setting, creating a picturesque view in the park. Snow has settled gently on top of the grass, the trees, even the bench you’re now sitting on. Jungkook had cleared a spot for you to sit before he left to get the two of you some hot chocolate. 

Your mind begins to wander... thinking about Jungkook. The two of you have been together almost a year now. He’s the best thing that’s ever happened to you, hands down. He’s kind, thoughtful, talented and... sexy.

A loud thud brings you out of your thoughts. A snowball landed on the back of the bench next to you. Looking up, you see Jungkook standing a few feet away from you balancing two hot chocolates in one hand, a second snowball in the other. 

He cocks an eyebrow and launches the second snowball at you. It hits your chest and shatters, leaving a dusting of snow on your jacket. You let your body go limp, tongue flopping out of your mouth to play dead. 

“No! I’ve killed her!” Jungkook shouts and he jogs over to your limp body. “If only I knew a way to revive her!”

You peek your eye open just in time to see Jungkook, still balancing two hot chocolates, reaching for your abdomen. He tickles your side and your body jolts, a loud squeal escaping you and tearing through the silence of the snow covered park. 

Jungkook sits and hands you your hot chocolate, both of you laughing. Steam is rising from the cup and you can smell the rich chocolate. The first drink shocks your tongue, the hot liquid a stark contrast from the freezing temperatures outside. But the second drink warms your body from the inside out. 

Jungkook places his arm around your shoulder, leaning in to kiss the traces of chocolate off your lips. Something catches his eye, the snow splattered across your jacket. 

“Here let me help you with that.” Jungkook smirks, a familiar look forming in his eyes. He dusts the snow from your jacket, intentionally grazing your breasts. And even through your thick winter jacket, you can feel the electricity in his touch. 

The two of you share a look and within a split second you are up from the bench and sprinting through the park, your half full hot chocolates discarded in a garbage can. It’s just a few blocks until you get back to Jungkook’s apartment.

Jungkook, ever the athlete begins to pull ahead of you, but he grabs hold of your hand, pulling you along with him. The cold air whipping through your lungs burns, but it can’t compare to the burning desire racing through your veins. 

At his apartment, you leave a trail of clothes behind you as you make your way to the bedroom. Your jackets are thrown on the couch rather than carefully hung by the door. Beanies and scarfs strewn about. Boots kicked off near the dining table. Jungkook’s sweater and black jeans discarded on the floor in the kitchen after you boldly pushed him against the counter. 

You struggled to get out of your leggings, too flustered to pull them off correctly. The moment you finally stepped out of them he leaned down to grab your waist and carried you the rest of the way to the bed.

He doesn’t bother with your dress, instead opting to slide his still cold fingers up your legs to pull off your panties. As he removes them, both of you can already tell how ready you are. But, it doesn’t take long before his cold fingers find their way to your warmth, his tongue following shortly after. 

Not long after he begins tasting you, he has you panting and creeping toward your climax. He pulls away, however, and in the dim lighting of the room you can just make out his silhouette. He’s removing his boxers now and a wave of anticipation washes over you. 

Jungkook crawls on the bed, coming face to face with you to leave a kiss on your lips. He positions himself over you and leaves a few more kisses on your neck before he slowly enters you. After months of incredible sex, you’re adjusted to the girth but it still feels so good when he fills you up. 

His pace begins to quicken, his hands are firmly planted, one on the bed, one on your waist. He buries his face between your breasts as he continues with his rhythm. The fabric of your dress is fairly thick, but you can still feel his hot breath. 

When he comes up for air you can see how flushed his face is, a familiar look of determination on his face. He’s close, but he wants to feel you come first. His hand leaves your waist and travels down between your thighs. It doesn’t take much for you to finally reach your climax, a gasp followed by a loud moan escaping your lips lets him know he’s succeeded.The pace of his hips meeting yours slows down and soon his climax takes over him as well. 

After catching your breath and a quick shower, you and Jungkook climb into bed together. Abandoned hot chocolates long forgotten, his embrace more than enough to keep you warm.

~~~~~~~

Thank you for reading! I love getting asks and DMs, so hit me up! Check out my masterlist here and @jjungkooksthighs​ masterlist here.

[maria-scribbles]

we’re just like kevin bacon!

prompt: for @bricksatanakinswindow​ ‘s halloween writing challenge! this was initially inspired by "mortal enemies accidentally showing up in matching costumes every fucking year" but once i started writing it kind of snowballed from there and i ended up with this lmao

ship: jj maybank x fem!reader

word count: 4.6k+ (i think this is the shortest thing i’ve ever written lol)

warnings n stuff: childhood enemies to lovers, swearing, mention of underage drinking, halloween shenanigans, makin' out, smut (not too explicit but i still think it's spicy enough to need an 18+ warning), jj and the reader being cute lil nerds and quoting movies back and forth, the author blatantly using some of her personal favorite movies/shows as inspiration for costumes, the author also making her opinions on ghostbusters clear (instead of the human trash can peter venkman, stan the adorable dork known as ray stantz for clear skin)

a/n: this was hella fun to write and i already have so many more halloween fic ideas bouncing around in my head (it's spoopy season, y'all!). title of this fic comes from guardians of the galaxy 😊

Of three things in life you were certain.

One, you loved Halloween more than any other holiday of the year; after all, you and your twin brother Mason were born just after one AM on October 31st so you could say a penchant for all things spooky was in your blood.

Two, Sarah Cameron was your best friend. Being neighbors your whole lives, the two of you were thick as thieves and spent almost every day together, much to the annoyance of both your brother and hers; as much as you loved Mason, sometimes you wished Sarah was your twin instead of him and you knew without question the blonde girl would trade Rafe for you in a heartbeat (with little to no guilt, in fact.). 

And three, you absolutely hated JJ Maybank. You'd been at the top of each other's shit lists ever since you were both six years old, when he made fun of you for the stutter you'd had back then and you dumped a full milkshake over his head as payback, and even as time passed and you grew out of your stutter, your disdain for the blond pogue only grew stronger. He was infuriating, plain and simple, and the mere mention of his name made steam come out of your ears. 

The boy was just good at being annoying and seemed to love pushing everyone's buttons, yours especially, and always found ways to get under your skin without fail every single time your paths crossed (which was way too often for your liking, but running in the same friend group made it hard to avoid each other). It became an unspoken thing, the great Y/L/N-Maybank feud, with both of you trying your hardest to piss the other off until one of your mutual friends or your brother broke it up and pulled you to opposite corners of the metaphorical ring to take a breather before the next round.

You'd never admit it but deep down you kind of liked it. You liked being at the center of his attention (granted, it was antagonistic in nature but it was attention all the same), his bright blue eyes following your every move whenever you were within his sights and you liked that you were in his thoughts even when you weren't around, a fact proven to you by the tiny notebook Kiara carried around in her pocket recording how many times he mentioned your name. Knowing you lived rent free in his mind brought you an embarrassingly high level of satisfaction that you'd absolutely deny feeling if anyone ever asked, just as you'd deny the fact that he lived rent free in your mind, too.

...At least for most of the year. Everyone, including JJ, knew that to you Halloween was a damn-near sacred time. He knew never to mess with you during the weeks leading up to the holiday and definitely never on the day itself, lest he want yet another milkshake dumped over his blond head. He knew that, the whole damn island knew he did and yet...somehow, some way, he managed to get your blood boiling every. single. year. And you, like a masochistic idiot, let him. 

It all started when you were twelve.

You, Mason, and your friends were finally old enough to go to the annual youth party held on the sprawling lawn of the Island Club, an event you'd been looking forward to attending every Halloween since you were eight. Of course, you were excited for the dancing and games and food but the thing you couldn't wait the most for was the costume contest, a chance to show off your skills and prove to everyone on the island that Y/N Y/L/N was the undisputed queen of Halloween.

So what if your hopes were a little too high (considering you were only twelve and going up against kids ranging from your age to fifteen), you were still gonna give it your all; you spent weeks perfecting not only your costume but your brother's as well with your mom, helping her cut fabric and sew zippers, styling wigs and painting props until everything was perfect. 

"Oh my God, Y/N!" Sarah, dressed as Cinderella, yelled from the passenger seat of her dad's SUV when they swung by to pick you up. "You look amazing!"

"So do you!" You said, slipping into the back seat in between a miserable-looking Rafe as Sarah Sanderson ("I lost a bet," he explained with a scowl) and Mason, holding your mini R2-D2 on your lap. Was it kind of cheesy, dressing up as the most iconic twins in movie history? Probably, but you really didn't care because Leia Organa was a total boss bitch and Mason was practically over the moon that he got to be his ultimate silver screen hero and swing around his very own lightsaber as Luke Skywalker.

"The Force is strong with you two." Ward joked, earning an eye roll from both of his children as he drove to the Island Club to drop you off. Rafe immediately disappeared into the crowd to meet up with Topper and Kelce and the three of you went off to find your own friends, skirting around the edge of the party toward the snack tables, also known as the most likely place for them to be.  

You spotted Kiara first, looking like an actual princess in her Tiana costume and waved, smiling when she waved back and beckoned you over as she said something to Pope, dressed as Albert Einstein, that made him start laughing hysterically.

"What's so funny?" You asked, reaching between them to grab two handfuls of pretzels and immediately dropping one into your brother's outstretched palm, careful to keep the sleeve of your white dress away from the bright orange-iced cupcakes on the table. 

The two of them exchanged a look that instantly made you realize something was Up™ but before either of them could answer, Mason asked around a mouthful of pretzels, "Where're Tweedledee and Tweedledum?"

"J, why didn't we think of that?" John B's voice came from somewhere over your shoulder and when you turned to face him, you nearly dropped both the droid cradled in the crook of your elbow and the snacks in your hand. Not because of John B and his hilarious Chewbacca costume but because of the fact that JJ Maybank, the one person you hated the most on the whole entire island, was dressed as Han freakin' Solo. 

"Yikes." Someone muttered behind you -it sounded like Sarah but you weren't really sure- and Mason nearly choked on his pretzels as he tried and failed miserably to keep himself from laughing. 

"You've gotta be kidding me." You huffed, rolling your eyes as JJ crossed his arms and glared in your direction, blaster hanging from the holster on his hip.

"Listen, Princess, I'm not too happy about this, either."

"Oh, shut up, you nerfherder."

"Who you calling-" Mason and John B cut in and pulled you both in opposite directions before either of you could turn it into a shouting match, your brother physically grabbing you around the waist and carrying you off while the latter caught the back of JJ's vest and dragged him away. Despite their best efforts to keep you apart, you ran into each other more times than you could count and spent a minute or two squabbling like cats and dogs each time until one of them intervened once again. It was childish, it was immature, and it was fun, even though you'd never, ever admit it. Ever.

You didn't win the costume contest that year in the way you'd imagined at all. Still, first place in the group category was a win in your book and it felt good, even if one of the members of your unintentional Star Wars posse was someone who tested every bit of patience you had. The four of you split the cash prize and you went home 25 bucks richer, stashing it away for next year's costume and pushing the thought of accidentally matching with your mortal enemy from your mind. 

You had no idea this thing was only just beginning.

The next year, you let Sarah and Kiara convince you to match with them and the three of you rolled up to the party as the Pink Ladies -you as Rizzo, Sarah as Sandy, Kiara as Frenchy- only to run right into the boys, your brother included, dressed as the T-Birds. John B, perfectly in character as Danny, immediately whisked Sarah off to dance while Pope, the most adorably awkward Doody you'd ever seen, went to grab some snacks with Kiara, leaving you stuck with the bane of your existence as, of course, fucking Kenickie (Mason, as Sonny, dipped sometime before then without you noticing). The two of you spent the whole evening glaring at each other and hurling insults back and forth at breakneck speed, more in character than either of you'd ever want to acknowledge and for the second year in a row, you won first place in the group costume category.

At fourteen, you went as Princess Buttercup and JJ showed up as Westley, fake sword in hand as he followed you around all night like an annoying fly, sarcastically drawling "as you wish" every time you so much as glanced in his direction. Your brother, dressed as Inigo Montoya, nearly pissed himself laughing and you wanted to snatch both of their prop swords and shove them up their asses. You came in first again in the group costume contest and begrudgingly split the prize three ways. 

At fifteen, you worked hard on a Dr. Ellie Sattler costume from Jurassic Park, he strolled in as a disheveled Dr. Alan Grant with mud splattered boots and tattered clothes, and you really regretted not taking the offer to be the Tai to Sarah's Cher and Kiara's Dionne. Once again, Mason laughed so hard his face turned red and you were tempted to grab the sword he was holding and beat him over the head with it, not just for laughing at you but also for the completely atrocious Jack Sparrow costume he wore. To your absolute horror, you and JJ won the contest in the duo category and you wanted to melt into the ground when they called you onto the makeshift stage to collect your reward. 

When you were sixteen, you and your friends "graduated" to the party held for the older teens inside the club itself. With costume rules a little more lax than they were for the younger kids, you decided to go as (an only slightly sexy) Janine Melnitz, complete with a prop telephone you answered every so often with a loud "Ghostbusters, whaddya want?!" much to the embarrassment of Mason, who was once again dressed as Luke Skywalker, this time in the fatigues he wore while training on Dagobah in The Empire Strikes Back.

You strutted into the party in your heels and pencil skirt only to nearly fall flat on your face when you caught sight of JJ in a terrible black wig and glasses, proton pack strapped to his back and 'Spengler' printed on the front of his jumpsuit. Your brother winced when you all but screeched "Again?!" right into his ear and grabbed your elbow, dragging you over to an empty table and depositing you into an open chair.

"There's no way this is a coincidence anymore! He could've picked Venkman, with all the womanizing and lowkey being a creep and thinking he's God's gift to mankind? It would've been the perfect choice! He's not nearly adorable or dorky enough to be Stantz or sassy enough to be Winston-"

"Jesus, you have a lot of feelings about Ghostbusters," Mason muttered, rolling his eyes when you shot him a withering glare.

"Shut up! Listen to me, there's no way in hell Maybank randomly decided to be, out of alllll the 'Busters, Egon fuckin' Spengler, okay? He had to have somehow known I was coming as Janine and did it just to piss me off!"

Your brother heaved a deep, heavy sigh that made you want to smack him and fixed you with a deadpan stare. "Or, have you pulled your head out of your own ass long enough to think that maybe you're just becoming...predictable?"

You really did smack him then, hard on his exposed shoulder and he yelped, scowling as he rubbed at the red mark you left behind. "Ow! What the hell, bitch?!"

"Don't you dare call me predictable, you dickhead! I pride myself on my costumes being very unique and unexpected -you know, out of the box!"

"Hate to break it to you but they're not really out of the box if Maybank shows up in a matching one every single year." He said with an infuriating, shit-eating grin, patting your shoulder before straightening the plush Yoda strapped to his back. "I'm gonna go get some food, wanna come with?"

Still miffed at his comment, you shoved his arm away and glanced down at your lap, ignoring your brother's sassy "your loss" as he headed toward the snack tables. Not even a minute passed by before his empty seat was taken and you groaned when you looked up to see who it was, your eyes meeting a pair of bright blues behind tacky, oversized glasses. 

"Hi, Janine."

"...Egon."

The two of you sat in silence after that, watching the dancing crowd under the flashing neon lights and sparkling disco ball until you saw him turn to face you out of the corner of your eye.

"Why Janine?" 

"Huh?" You turned to face him, too, one eyebrow raised in a perfect arch as he gestured toward your costume.

"Why did you dress up as Janine, Y/L/N?"

"I've always liked her sassiness and 'I like to play racquetball.'" You offered a casual shrug of your shoulders and carefully stuck a finger under your wig to scratch an annoying itch above your ear. "Why'd you pick Egon, Maybank?"

"He's my favorite." He answered simply with his own shrug, shooting you a genuine, real smile that you, for who knows what reason, found yourself returning without a second thought. "Smart, hilarious -plus, 'I like to collect spores, mold, and fungus.'"

For the first time in your life, your eyes rolled out of amusement and not annoyance at something that JJ Maybank said and, to your complete surprise, it kind of felt...right. "Really? I'd have pegged you for a Venkman stan."

"Are you kidding? He's the worst!" 

Never in your wildest dreams did you ever think you'd sit across from your hated enemy, not only having a civil -hell, downright enjoyable- conversation but actually smiling right along with him, laughing at his jokes and doing your best to ignore the sudden flutter in your stomach each time you caught sight of his slightly crooked teeth when he grinned. You didn't even notice when your brother returned with Kiara, dressed as Moana, at his side and two heaping plates of snacks in his hands until his chair scraped gratingly across the hardwood floor. 

"Kie, are you seeing this? Pigs must be flying 'cause they're actually smiling at each other." Mason said, cackling as Kiara turned to squint out the window.

"Yeah, I think I see one or two soaring around out there." She giggled and sent a mischievous wink in your direction. With your face feeling like it was on fire, you flipped them both the bird and took off, disappearing into the crowd and leaving all your traitorous, confusing thoughts about JJ behind with the boy himself; it was Rafe's last party at the Club and he owed you a dance anyway, but even as your best friend's older brother, cute as hell in his Thor costume, playfully twirled you around the floor to the Ghostbusters theme song, you felt more than your partner's blue eyes on you.

To no one's surprise, you and JJ won the duo category for the second year in a row and when you joined him onstage to collect your prize and didn't feel like you'd rather die than be up there by his side, you suddenly realized you were only certain about two things in life instead of three. 

At seventeen, you were confident you and JJ wouldn't be matching for once (after last year, though, you were kind of thinking it wouldn't be that bad of a thing). You'd gone cult classic for your costume, pulling inspiration from your mom's favorite move, 1999's The Mummy, and put together a screen-accurate Evelyn Carnahan in her iconic black dress, including a handmade Book of the Dead and matching key. You blackmailed Mason with pictures of him, drunk as a skunk and dressed in your Janine costume from the previous year, and got him to go as Jonathan, complete with a pith helmet and prop bottle of The Glenlivet.  

But, as always, JJ managed to surprise you. You literally ran right into his chest and if it wasn't for his arms instantly wrapping tight around your waist, you would've bit it hard.

"Whoa, careful there," He said, one hand keeping you close while the other moved to help you hold the book in your arms. "'The Book of the Dead? Are you sure you wanna be messing around with this thing?'"

Of course he'd make the perfect Rick O'Connell, you thought as you playfully raised one eyebrow and curled your fingers around the strap of the gun holster draped over his shoulder. "'It's just a book. No harm ever came from reading a book.'"

Mason was a little too in character as well as he dramatically rolled his eyes and wandered off, muttering "puh-lease" under his breath and shooting Sarah a conspiratorial wink that you didn't see. The blonde girl glanced between the two of you -arms still around each other and identical smiles on your faces- and grinned. The party flew by in a blur of movie quotes, laughs, and more dances than you could count and by the time you made it home, 50 bucks in the pocket of your dress and another group costume win under your belt, you were almost positive you never actually hated JJ Maybank in the first place.

Now at eighteen, you pulled out all the stops for your last party at the Island Club. You'd spent the last few months slaving over your costume, sewing custom pieces, hand-crafting your prop, and spending way too much money on body makeup and a wig but when you saw the final product in the mirror, you knew it was all worth it. You were ready to slay the competition this year and take home first place for the final time.

Mason, indifferent as always about the contest but willing to do anything to keep those pictures from seeing the light of day, didn't protest one bit when you forced him into the matching costume you'd made for him -in typical Mason fashion, he liked that he didn't have to wear a shirt and could show off his muscles- and spent a few hours perfecting his makeup.

You felt on top of the world when you walked into the party that night as Gamora, a replica of her Godslayer sword in hand and skin painted a perfect shade of green, followed by your brother as Drax, already flexing for anyone and everyone looking his way. The rest of your friends came to win as well: John B and Sarah as Flynn Rider and Rapunzel, Kiara as Eleven, Pope as T'Challa, and, of course, JJ as Peter Quill, Baby Groot perched on his shoulder and twin blasters at his hips. 

"Lookin' good, Gamora!" He called over the music, shimmying his way over to you with some dance moves that would impress Star-Lord himself.

"Flattery will get you nowhere, Quill." You replied in a sing-song voice, even as you took his outstretched hand and let him pull you into the crowd of bodies hopping up and down to some terrible EDM beat under the twirling disco ball.

"It got you out here with me, didn't it?"

You rolled your eyes and hooked the sword to your belt before stepping closer and draping your arms around his neck, twirling your painted fingers in his hair. "Just remember, 'I know who you are, Peter Quill. And I'm not some starry-eyed waif here to succumb to your pelvic sorcery.'"

You should've known you spoke too soon the second you saw the spark in JJ's eyes that all but screamed 'wanna bet?'

And that's how you found yourself in the middle of the single hottest make out session you'd ever had the pleasure of participating in an hour later: back pressed against the locked door of someone's deserted office, legs wrapped tight around his waist and his hands hooked under your ass, both your sword and his blasters abandoned on the floor at his feet, and he was either a sinfully good kisser or trying really, really hard to blow your mind.  

"I'm not gonna end up green after this, am I?" He mumbled against your mouth before trailing his lips along your jaw and you breathed a laugh, tightening your grip on his hair.

"This is professional makeup, dumbass. It's gonna take more than some kissing to smudge it."

"I'm down for some smudging if you are." 

You pulled him back for another kiss in response and gasped into his mouth when he walked across the room, one strong arm reaching out to sweep whatever was on the desk to the floor before setting you down on it.

"Confident, are we?" 

JJ smirked at your breathless question and the way you hooked your ankles around the backs of his thighs to pull him closer. "So is that a yes to the smudging?"

"Just shut up and kiss me." 

He did -very well, you might add- and you kissed him back, untangling your hands from his hair to slide them under his jacket instead; you helped him push it off his shoulders and it had barely hit the ground along with poor Baby Groot before your fingers were tugging his shirt from the waistband of his pants.  

"Someone's impatient." He teased, leaning back just far enough to let you pull it over his head and toss it somewhere behind you.

"Someone doesn't know how to stop talking." You whispered your reply low in his ear and then trailed your lips down his neck, smiling in satisfaction at the tremble in his voice when you kissed the purple mark you'd left behind earlier.

"N-never was very good at that." 

"'You should've learned.'"

"'I don't learn, it's one of my issues.'"

One of his hands gripped your wig, pulling your head back a little roughly -you'd have so been into that if it had been your real hair he pulled- and you winced at the way the bobby pins holding it it place tugged painfully at your roots. "Ow, not so hard!"

"Wait, what the fuck? I thought you were wearing a wig!" 

"I am but it's still pinned to my actual hair!"

"Sorry, but how the hell was I supposed to know that?"

The sight of JJ's face slowly turning red made the butterflies in your stomach go haywire and so you just shook your head, mumbling "don't worry about it," before pressing your lips to his once again. He was gentler this time with the pulling and you dug your nails into his bare shoulders at the thrill of his mouth against the exposed column of your throat, leaning back further and further until you laid flat on the desk.

His fingers had just unbuttoned your pants when your phone started to ring from your pocket, blaring the Star Wars theme you had set as your twin's ringtone. 

"Mason's timing is impeccable," JJ said sarcastically, chuckling as you clamped a palm over his mouth and answered the call.

"What the hell do you want?"

"Jesus, no need to be pissy!" Mason loudly replied over the applause crackling through the phone's speaker. "I just thought you'd like to know that we just won best group costume with Maybank. Again." 

The blond winked at the mention of his last name and pulled your hand away from his mouth, pinning it to the desk beside you with one of his while the other started tugging your pants down over your hips.

"Oh, that's cool, Mase-" You inhaled sharply when his lips touched the edge of your underwear, so close to where you wanted him most but at the same time so far away, and your fingers held your phone in a white-knuckled grip. "But I-I'm kind of in the middle of doing someone -something!- right now."

"Smooth," JJ said, not even trying to be quiet as he released your pinned hand to finish pulling your boots off, along with your tight leather pants that he casually tossed aside. "And I knew you weren't green under these!" 

Your laugh quickly turned into a gasp when his fingers hooked under your panties and pulled those off, too, and the touch of his tongue against the skin of your inner thigh sent white-hot lightning racing through your veins; the phone slipped from your grip, falling with a clunk onto the desk as your fingers tangled in his hair and he lifted one of your knees over his shoulder.

"Okay, I'm hanging up now! I already know you're getting laid but I don't need to hear it." Mason's loud grumble drifted up through the speaker and if you weren't so preoccupied with the boy between your thighs doing some downright wicked things to you with his mouth, you might've noticed that your brother didn't actually sound that grumpy before he ended the call and your phone's screen went dark, right as you lost control of your voice.

"Fuck me."

"Funny, I thought that's what I was doing?" You felt more than heard his response against you and a shiver ran down your spine when his bright blue eyes flicked up to met yours in the dim light of the office.

"You know what I meant, Maybank."

"Trust me, Y/L/N, I know. Question is: where do you want me?"

You tugged on his hair, grinning wolfishly at the way his eyes fluttered closed and a low moan rose from his throat. "Everywhere in this damn room, starting right here."

"I was hoping you’d say that.”

- Back at the party, Mason looked up and met Sarah's gaze, both of her eyebrows raised expectantly as she asked, "Well?"

He took his time slipping his phone back into his pocket before giving her a quick nod, grinning triumphantly when she immediately burst into gleeful giggles.  

"Yes! I just knew they had a thing for each other! Mortal enemies, my ass."

"I think that was the very first time in my sister's life that she didn't give a shit about the contest." Mason said and reached over to snag a cookie from her plate, chuckling when she pushed his hand away from the chocolate chip ones and toward the peanut butter. "We couldn't have pulled this off without you. I mean, making sure they showed up in matching costumes every year? Genius, Sarah. Absolutely genius." 

The blonde girl grabbed her own cookie with a wink. "Think they'll ever figure it out?"

Your brother just threw his head back and laughed. "I hope not! I wanna save that story for my best man speech at their wedding."

taglist: @sinkbeneathwaves @cordeliascrown @maysbanks @jjpogueprincess @jiaraendgame @alexa-playafricabytoto @sexualparkour @agirlwholovescoffee​ 

[storytellerofuntoldlegends]

to see the sun again i’d give anything

A/N: if you couldn’t already tell, the dream smp has definitely taken over my thoughts lately. also hello and welcome to my "c!philza needs to process losing his son and his wings in the span of ten minutes instead of deflecting with laughter and destruction" agenda. title is from Bird With A Broken Wing by Owl City! enjoy!

Warnings: past character death, trauma, past injury, emotional repression, flashbacks, crying, minor violence, emotional hurt/comfort, teasing/banter, hugs

Summary: Phil tries to get some work done around Techno's house. The only problem with that is that his mind ends up wandering into darker thoughts than he'd like, leaving Phil to shatter. But luckily, someone is there to pick up the pieces.

-

Beware the Angel of Death, who cackles while cities burn. That was what they said about him, that was what everyone expected of him. That or they expected wisdom and fatherly care from the man whose wings died with his son. But the truth was that the great Philza Minecraft was neither of those things. Well… to be fair, the moniker “Angel of Death” was well deserved, the rubble of L’Manburg made that fact absolutely certain. But Phil didn’t want that to be who he was. He wanted to be safe and at home with no war or fighting, preening his wings while Wilbur’s music drifted through the house- but he had ruined all of that on his own, hadn’t he?

Phil squeezed his eyes shut and let out a shaky breath. He was in the middle of checking over the bee farm, why were all of these thoughts hitting him now? Maybe it was because the yellow of the bees made him think of Wilbur’s sweater, their buzzing resonating at a frequency similar to the sizzling of TNT-

Okay. Maybe Phil should leave the bee farm for later. There were other things he could do… like gathering supplies for the Syndicate! Yes, that would be good, having something monotonous to work on always helped. With that plan in mind, Phil spun on his heel to head to Techno’s house to check and see what they needed- and smacked right into Ranboo. The two stumbled away from each other, Phil ending up falling onto his back- and therefore onto his permanently damaged wings. Phil hissed in pain as the fragile, half-there feathers made crushing contact with the snow and cold ground beneath it, and Ranboo’s expression twisted in a mix of guilt and sympathy.

“I’m sorry! I thought you knew I was there,” Ranboo said, holding out his hand to help Phil up. He took the offered hand and shook the snow from his wings once he stood up.

“It’s alright mate, I was just… lost in thought, I guess,” Phil said, trying for his usual smile. Ranboo didn’t seem to buy it, if the worried frown was anything to go by, but he didn’t directly comment on it.

“Oh. Okay! How’s the uh, bee farm?” he asked, clearly trying to keep things casual, which Phil was grateful for (even if it was painfully awkward).

“Giving me difficulty, I keep getting… frustrated. Think I’m gonna deal with it later,” Phil replied with a shrug.

“I can do it!” Ranboo blurted. Phil startled a bit at the outburst from the usually mellow teen, blinking in surprise.

“I, uh- thanks mate, but…”

“Really, I can do it! You showed me how to take care of them once, and I put down what you said to do in my memory book! I can handle it, promise,” he said, pulling out his memory book and flipping through the pages. Phil smiled, a true smile this time, at Ranboo’s eagerness to help.

“I- thank you. You let me know the minute you need help though, okay?” Phil insisted, tone leaving no room for argument. So of course, Ranboo argued against it.

“I think I can handle taking care of some bees, Phil,” he scoffed with a grin. For a split second, the snarky reply felt so reminiscent of Wilbur. If things had been different, would Wilbur be there with them? Phil could practically see the alternate reality play out in front of him- Wilbur helping out with the farms, getting into snowball fights with Ranboo and then egging on Techno and Phil to join them, or sitting on the porch and strumming his guitar and humming half-worked out melodies. A bittersweet smile came to Phil’s face, and he blinked away the sudden mistiness in his eyes.

“If you say so, mate,” he said softly, then walked away from the bee farm and to Techno’s house.

Once up the stairs and safely inside, Phil let out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding. His wings sagged, their damaged tips lightly brushing against the floor. Saving face in front of Ranboo… that took more energy than he had thought. That combined with how much he had seemed like Wilbur for a moment… well, Phil wasn’t exactly in the mood for gathering supplies anymore. But he didn’t want to be idle either. Being idle meant being alone with your thoughts, and Phil’s thoughts often weren’t that kind to him. They’d be filled with accusations of him being a terrible father for killing his son, for letting Wilbur twist and become such a darker version of the bright young musician Phil once knew, for destroying the thing his son had built to rid himself of the memories of Wilbur’s screams begging Phil to kill him-

Before he realized it, Phil crumpled to the ground, knocking something over as he went, hand clamped over his mouth to stifle his sobs. What on earth was he doing? He had to get up. He had to stop crying. Wilbur, his wings, and L’Manburg- those tragedies were in the past. He should be over it now. Right?

Phil’s feeble reassurances to himself did nothing, as he remained on the floor with his wings shielding him like a fragile cocoon and shoulders shaking with sobs he was stubbornly trying to hold back. He was so lost in his sorrow and denial that he hadn’t realized that someone heard something crash in the house, and now had come inside to investigate. They tried to get his attention, but upon garnering no response, they put a gentle hand on Phil’s back, right between his wings.

The touch, no matter how gentle or well-meaning, caused something inside Phil to snap. Some strange, almost primal instinct took over and replaced the mournful sorrow. No one touched him anywhere near his wings and lived. He shot up from his curled up position on the floor, drawing his sword in the same motion and lunged at the person behind him. He tackled them to the ground, sword edge at their throat- and froze. Because he saw eyes wide with fear and shock, and for a moment all he could see was Wilbur. Then he blinked, and registered the heterochromic red and green eyes of the person he just attacked- Ranboo. He broke eye contact and scrambled away from Ranboo like he had been burned, tossing his sword aside and hardly registering the clatter it made over the thundering of his heart.

“Ranboo, I’m so sorry, I didn’t-”

“It’s okay, you clearly didn’t realize I was there or who I even was, it’s not your fault and I’m not hurt anyway,” Ranboo said, voice low and soothing as he shifted into more of a sitting position on the ground, not standing up quite yet. Phil felt way out of his depth. Not only had he been caught crying by a teenager, but his immediate reaction to said teenager trying to comfort him was to kill him. Some father figure he was.

“I-I-”

“You don’t have to talk about what’s bothering you if you don’t want to, but… something tells me that this is something you’ve been keeping to yourself for a while. And trust me, I know that bottling things up is never good. So when you’re ready to talk about it… I’m here,” Ranboo said softly. Phil let out a sigh.

“Ranboo, you’re just a kid. I can’t be putting all my problems onto you,” Phil said, his voice a hollow echo of the cheerful kindness it usually held. A mildly irritated expression crossed Ranboo’s face.

“In case you haven’t noticed, this server is full of kids and people who are basically kids to you anyhow. So who exactly else would you be able to talk to about this?” he said, a bit more blunt than he probably meant to, but beating around the bush certainly wouldn’t help things either.

“I don’t need to talk to anyone about anything,” Phil huffed, sounding a bit like a stubborn child.

“Uh huh. Says the guy who made a loud crash when having a mental breakdown, and then startled so bad that he instinctively attacked someone. You’re right! You don’t need to talk to anyone about this at all,” Ranboo said flatly. Phil winced, and let out another sigh.

“I… you’re right. I shouldn’t be keeping this all bottled up. It’s just that everyone here is so young and already has had so much struggle and heartbreak. I couldn’t bear to add to that,” Phil said softly.

“Misery loves company,” Ranboo pointed out with a smile. Phil couldn’t help but smile back.

“I suppose so,” he said. Ranboo’s smile grew wider, and he stood up, then offered a hand to Phil to help him up (again).

“I’m capable of standing up on my own, y’know,” Phil chuckled, but took the offered hand anyway.

“And yet I’ve found you on the ground twice today, old man,” Ranboo teased. A surprised laugh burst from Phil’s lips.

“Oh you little shit, I thought you were trying to comfort me,” he said, still laughing.

“Okay hold on, first: there is nothing ‘little’ about me, I’m a lot taller than you. Second: I got you to laugh, didn’t I? Seems like the comfort is working pretty well,” Ranboo said, sounding unreasonably smug. And yet again, Ranboo reminded him of Wilbur. It was strange- upon first meeting the half enderman, Phil saw so many similarities to Technoblade in him. But now, the more he got to know him, the more he noticed a remarkable similarity to Wilbur as well.

“Maybe so,” Phil sighed. Ranboo squinted at him suspiciously, and Phil kept his eyes trained on the floor.

“You keep getting that wistful tone in your voice and a faraway look in your eyes. Do you… wanna talk about that?” Ranboo asked, fidgeting with his sleeves and looking otherwise unsure of what to do with his hands. A smile tinged with bittersweet memories came to Phil’s face.

“I suppose I should. Let’s sit down by the fire, this isn’t a conversation I want to have standing or feeling cold,” Phil said, taking a seat in front of the fireplace with Ranboo quickly following his lead. One of Techno’s dogs, who somehow had stayed snoozing by the fireplace throughout Phil’s mental breakdown, instantly perked up and trotted over to sit in Phil’s lap.

“Dogs are good for comfort too,” Ranboo pointed out. Phil agreed with a chuckle, gently running a hand through the dog’s fur. After a deep breath to calm himself, Phil delved into the story of his son, his wings, and L’Manburg. Ranboo listened with a patient and understanding expression, reaching out every once and a while to put a comforting hand on Phil’s arm whenever his voice wavered.

“And that’s it, I guess. I’ve tried to put my focus into working on farms here or gathering supplies to keep my mind off of it… but as you can tell, that hasn’t entirely worked,” Phil said after he finished his story. Ranboo was quiet for a few moments, taking in what Phil had said.

“In theory, I guess trying to distract yourself isn’t the worst idea, but… you haven’t really given yourself time to… process anything, have you?” Ranboo finally asked. Phil laughed bitterly.

“Unless you count what happened earlier? Not really,” Phil replied, keeping his eyes on the dog dozing in his lap.

“Phil,” Ranboo said reproachfully.

“Oh, because you’re the champion of processing emotions?” Phil shot back. Ranboo winced, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. Phil immediately felt guilty.

“To be honest, I don’t really remember many things to process them anyway,” he said, voice low. Phil sighed, and reached out to put a hand on Ranboo’s arm, much like Ranboo had done for him earlier.

“It’s alright mate, I shouldn’t have snapped at you like that. You were just… entirely correct, and I didn’t want to admit it,” Phil said with a soft, apologetic smile.

“Hey, if I were in your shoes, I probably would have lashed out too,” Ranboo said, smiling back and affectionately nudging Phil’s shoulder with his own. Once again, Phil was reminded of Wilbur. He had always been so dependent on touch- things like shoulder bumps, hair ruffles, playful punches on the arm, hugs- and it seemed Ranboo was the same way, albeit a bit shyer about it. Phil must have had that “faraway look” as Ranboo put it, as the half-enderman was regarding him with a puzzled expression.

“There’s… probably something else I should explain to you. But I don’t want it to affect who you are as a person, and I don’t want you to think that anything you do makes me feel… bad,” Phil explained, internally wincing at the way his words came out. “Uh… okay? Gonna admit, you’re scaring me a bit there,” Ranboo said with a nervous laugh, looking a bit startled. Phil took a deep breath, then reached out to take Ranboo’s hand and squeeze it comfortingly.

“When I first met you, you reminded me so much of Technoblade. A little standoffish, skeptical of everything and everyone, and a bit stubborn. But the more I’ve gotten to know you, the more you make me think of Wilbur. You have this snark to you like Will, but at the same time you have the capacity for cheerful optimism like he did. Sometimes your mannerisms even remind you of him! So that’s why I get a little… wistful, every now and then,” Phil explained. Ranboo’s expression brightened at the comparison to Techno, but the Wilbur comparison clearly threw him off a bit.

“So… I remind you of the power-hungry revolutionary leader who is now a bizarrely cheerful ghost?” Ranboo asked, head cocked to the side in confusion. Ranboo’s puzzlement startled a laugh out of Phil, and he shook his head fondly.

“I forgot that you never knew the real Wilbur- I don’t know if anyone in this server ever really knew the real Wilbur. Maybe some of the original people of L’Manburg did, but creating that nation… it corrupted him. He was so far from the person I raised… I should have gotten here sooner. Maybe things would be different now,” Phil said, voice soft and tinged with regret.

“Well… I think you did the best you could, considering what you had to deal with when you arrived. And if what you say is true, about no one really knowing the true Wilbur… I don’t know if coming sooner would have helped anything. But I guess none of that really matters, all we can do now is focus on our present actions,” Ranboo replied, sounding much older than he actually was.

“Pretty wise words for someone your age,” Phil said, unable to keep the impressed tone from his voice. Ranboo’s eyes widened, and an awed smile came to his face.

“Huh… yeah, I guess so. And for what it’s worth- I think Wilbur sounds like he was a pretty neat guy. I would’ve liked to know him, the real him,” Ranboo said, squeezing Phil’s hand before letting go of it again.

“I think you two would have gotten along well,” Phil said, finding himself a bit misty-eyed. He wiped at his eyes quickly before any tears could fall, and Ranboo frowned sympathetically. He scooted closer to Phil, then slowly and cautiously leaned his head on Phil’s shoulder and wrapped an arm around him in a half hug. Phil initially stiffened at the contact, but quickly melted into the touch, his arm going around Ranboo’s shoulder while his fragile wing gently covered the hybrid like a cocoon.

The two of them stayed by the fire like that for a while, leaning against each other with Techno’s dog in Phil’s lap. Neither one said a word- not that they really needed to. It felt so nice to be the one being comforted for once, to not be looked to for answers, or to be looked upon with fear. Sure, he was the Angel of Death, the great Philza Minecraft, and a fatherly figure that those could rely on for guidance- but for once, it was nice to just be Phil.