#I’m cackling let’s see if this guy lasts | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

mooooonnnzz · 3 months ago

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World/Insured Part 3

Stanford Pines x Sibling!Reader/Stanley Pines x Sibling!Reader

☆ hope you guys r liking it so far!! :p

☆ 4,4k words

✶ “Can we talk about [Name]?” Ford suddenly brings up one day. The waves of tourists have been moderately slow for the day, allowing Stan and Ford to kick back and relax for once. And in the midst of sitting down on the couch, his mind dwelled over to the thought of you. Stan let out a long sigh as he sat down, pitt cola in hand. Stan was trying to break free from his alcohol addiction, Ford noted. “Sure, what do you want to talk about?” The causality held in Stan’s words made Ford uneasy. He was so unnaturally calm with his words, at least the last time he brought you up, he can sense the agitation in his words, but he couldn’t find any dripping anger from him now. Mustering up all the courage he had left, he asked; “How were they?” He felt his mouth run dry. Out of everything he could’ve asked, he asked that? All the questions he had were out the window and off into the woods, leaving him scrambling for words. Taking a sip from his soda, he said, “Do you want to know how they felt immediately after they left with me?” Ford nods. “Well, being fifteen and a rage of hormones, they pretty much hated you.” Stan’s eyes glance over to Ford whose face could visibly read hurt. “I’m just kidding!” Stan cackled, shoving Ford. “They were ripped apart. I remember they told me how they felt everything and nothing at the same time, real poetic than one.” He takes another sip. “They missed you so much while I hated your guts. I couldn’t think of you without seeing red and they couldn’t think of you without crying.” He swirled the drink in the can, looking down to his shuffling feet. “What did you guys do to survive?”

✶ “I enrolled them into a high school. I didn’t want them to be stupid like me, ya know? And while they were in highschool, I started my business which earned us money to get by.” Stan told him. “Would you even call what you did a business?” Ford said with his eyebrow raised. “Hey!” Stan rolled his eyes, placing the can of soda down on the floor. “Once we got banned from a few states, [Name] put their foot down and encouraged me to get a job. And guess what, I landed a pretty good job! My history of stealing peoples money was long gone, until now,” Stan quietly said the last part. “And we were living pretty comfortably. I got us a nice house, a good car and [Name] graduated highschool and they got a job as manager of some sort, can’t really remember.” Stan scratched his chin idly. “They were on their way to move out and take their business elsewhere when you decided to show your face.” Stan cleared his throat, looking at Ford. “They talked about you a lot.” He softly added. “I saw how they lit up when they saw me for the first time. They looked so much older.” Ford said. “I mean, yeah, that’s what happens when you miss, like, 10 years of their life.” Ford ignored Stan’s comments and mulled over his thoughts. After a moment, he spoke up. “Thank you for talking about them, Stan.” Stan shot him a smile. “Of course, talking about them wasn’t as bad as I thought it was going to be.” Since then, Stan would share stories of you whenever Ford asked, ranging from embarrassing ones, to one’s where it was a little harder for Stan to tell. But in the end, it brought them closer together and kept the memory of you alive.

✶ Much to Ford’s dismay, the whole shack was rearranged to be a tourist trap. By day, they were busy ripping people of their money and by night, they buried themselves in their work, fixing what they could while simultaneously searching for the second book. And before they knew it, they were in their late 50’s. Adjusting his fez, he smiles at himself through the mirror. “Stan!” Ford bursts through his room, starling Stan. “Geez, Ford! A little warning next time?” Ford stammers over to him. “No time for that!” He huffs out. “The book! I-I can’t find it!” Stan’s face falls. “What?! What happened to it?” Ford opened his mouth to answer when Soos yelled out; “Mr. Pines!” Stan curses to himself, that must be the kids. “Do you have any idea where it could be?” Stan asks. Out of all the days something could’ve gone wrong, why today? “I think maybe the gnomes took it?” Stan was ready to scream again when Soos called for them again. “I want you to go and look for the book.” Stan insisted, pointing a finger at him. “I’m not coming with you to get Dipper and Mabel?” Ford gasped out, his hand slapping on his chest. “No! Because you lost the book!” Stan pointed an accusatory finger at him. “I lost the book? It was probably a gnome who took it!” Ford defended. “How are you so sure that a gnome even took it?” Ford scratched the back of his neck nervously. “They may or may not have knocked me out just a few moments ago.” Stan was so ready to deck him in the face when Soos came into the room. “Mr. Pines!” He pointed outside. “The kids are here!” “We know that, Soos.” The twins spat out. “But there’s this wolf mailman dude, and I really don’t trust him and he’s probably like eating the kids right now at the bus stop!” Soos rambled out. While Stan carried an unimpressed face, Ford’s face twisted to one of horror. “We need to pick them up now!” Unfortunately for Stan, both Soos and Ford have a rising suspicion that the mailman is a wolf in a human disguise. But the man was just hairy! Ford pulled Stan along and got inside his car. Starting up the car, Stan let out an exhausted sigh. “How did puny little gnomes knock you out?” He asked, backing out of his parking spot and onto the road. “I was busy reading when they knocked me out cold! I don’t think they intended to steal the journal, when I was waking back up they realized and grabbed the nearest object possible and ran out of there.” Stan sighed, tapping his finger on the wheel. “I really can’t believe you sometimes.” He mutters. “It wasn’t my fault, Stanley!”

✶ Coming to a complete stop, Ford rolled down the windows, a large smile on his face when his eyes landed on his favorite great nieces. “Grunkle Ford!” They cheer, equally large smiles on their faces. “Hey, hey!” Stan watched as they stumbled into the car with their bulky backpacks skidding against the roof. “Where’s my love?” Stan exclaimed. “Right here, Grunkle Stan.” Mable giggled, wrapping her arms around Stan’s neck and nuzzling her face into his shoulder. “That’s more like it,” Stan grinned, gingerly patting her back. “Now where’s the sweaty one? I’m missing one!” Dipper sighed, a playful roll to his eyes. “I’m right here,” Mable pulled away from Stan and swiftly latched herself to Ford. “C’mon, give your old grunkle some sugar.” Dipper cringed. “Don’t ever say that again, Grunke Stan.” He said, hugging Stan. “I say what I want, kid! We live in a free country for a reason.” The drive home was full of conversation, the twins telling their grunkle’s stories from school and their home life. Stan and Ford made the conscious effort to comment and react to everything they said, if not Mable would make sure they did by repeating what they said over and over again. When the Mystery Shack came into view, they both shoved their face against the window, marveling at the shack. “Is this what Grunkle Stan is always talking about when we call him?” Mable’s hot breath fogged up the window. “Yup. And now you guys get to see it.” Ford gestured to the shack, smiling proudly. He had soon come to love the shack he and Stan worked on, he will never admit that out loud though. Parking in his usual spot, he turns to the kids. “Get yourself settled in, alright?” They wasted no time jumping out of the car and scampering off into the shack. “And don’t touch anything!” A jar crashing onto the floor was heard in the distance. “They don’t listen, do they?” Stan shook his head. “Alright, poindexter, what are we going to do about the book?” He started, looking at Ford who pulled at his turtle neck anxiously. “We have to wait till tonight to look for it.” Tonight came and they were too wrapped up with the twins that they couldn’t go out and search for the third book. Their schedules became so busy that a week had passed and they still were waiting to find an empty slot in their schedules to find the book but it never came.

✶ “Grunkles! Grunkles!” Mable came running at them at full speed. “Woah there, kiddo!” Ford swooped Mable up from the floor. “You almost bumped into me.” He laughed, putting her back down on the ground. “That was the plan.” She giggled. “But I have something to ask!” She shoved her hand inside the pocket of her skirt. She pulled out a photo, a very specific photo that Stan had kept in his room. She pointed at the person in the middle. “Who is this?” She asks. “Mable!” Dipper rushed to the living room. Bending over, he hoisted himself up by propping his arms on his knees. He wheezed out, his eyes locking onto the tense scene in front of him. “Did she already ask about the photo?” Silence was his response. Breaking out of his trance, Stan swiped the photo out of Mable’s hands. “Where did you find this?” Stan’s eyes flickered between the photo and Mable. “In your room.” A flash of emotions went through Stan’s face. Why was Mable in his room? Why did she pick this photo out of all the things in his room? He spiraled. He wasn’t expecting to speak of you to someone who had no idea of your existence. Stan’s heart crumpled into a pathetic ball. The twins had never met you. Ford took notice of Stan’s unnaturally quiet nature. “Kids, why don’t you go to your rooms?” Ford said, kneeling down to their height. “But why?” Mable whined, pouting. “Because we need to decide if we are ready to tell you, okay?” Ford gave a knowing look to Dipper who understood that this wasn’t an easy topic. Dipper told something to Mable and with a worried look, she dejectedly followed him up to their room. “Stan?” He looks over to Stan who was shakily pulling out a packet of cigarettes. “I thought you quit, Stanley?” Ford watched sadly as he walked inside the kitchen and searched for a lighter, when he did he pocketed it and walked back out. “It’s either I drink or I smoke.” Stan said, heading towards the porch. Ford followed after him, shutting the door behind him. “You want one?” Stan offered the pack and he debated for a moment before denying his request. Stan brought the cigar to his lips. He cupped his hand around the cigar as he lit it up with his lighter. Taking a deep drag of the smoke, he allowed himself to relax, welcoming the familiar feeling of the smoke filling his lungs. “We don’t have to tell them if you don’t want to.” Ford spoke, watching the puff of gray smog lighty cover his vision momentarily. “I don’t think we have a choice here.” Stan takes another long drag from the cigarette. “We can tell them we’re not ready yet.” Ford reasons. “I think it’s time they should know about [Name].” Stan stares at the late afternoon sky. “It was just all so sudden and I didn’t know how to react. It all went downhill from there.” Stan twiddled his cigarette between his fingers. “You don’t have to explain yourself, Stanley. I know how you feel.” A comfortable silence blanketed the both of them warmly. “Do you ever wonder what [Name] would think about the twins?” Ford breaks the silence, glancing at Stan from the corner of his eye. Stan wistfully smiled, stubbing out his cigarette on the floor. “[Name] would have loved the twins.”

✶ Stan looked between the twins. “So, whaddya wanna know?” He asks. “Who are they!” Mable shouted. “They are our younger sibling.” Ford said. Mable’s face exploded into shock. “We have a secret Great Aunt/Grunkle?” Mable couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “Where are they?” Dipper questioned. “They’re somewhere,” Stan said with a strained voice. “Where is somewhere?” Mable cocked her head to the side. “They’re out exploring the world.” Ford horribly lied. Mable frowned. “You can tell us if they’re dead, Grunkles. You don’t have to hide it from us.” Stan took a harsh deep breath in. “They aren’t dead, pumpkin. We just have no idea where they’re at.” Mable nodded her head in understanding. “Did you guys fall out?” Dipper asked with a tiny frown. “Yeah. A terrible fight broke out and they left.” Ford gazed at the photo of the three of them when they were young, clueless of the world and just happy to be surrounded by one another. “I’m so sorry.” Mable’s excitement was no longer there and was replaced by sadness for her poor Grunkle’s. “It’s okay, dear. No need to apologize.” Ford assured Mable with a smile. “[Name] is a wonderful person,” This was the first time Stan had talked about you in a present tense and he couldn’t tell if he liked that or not. “I hope one day you get to meet them.”

✶ Unbeknownst to the two older twins, Dipper had found journal three when Stan instructed him to go out and put out signs in the woods. But they didn’t find out that Dipper had it until he had shown the book to Ford and Stan after the events that had followed them the past few days. “Gideon nearly destroyed the whole town trying to find it!” Dipper said. Stan pretended to feign interest as he skimmed through the pages. “I don’t know what it means, or who wrote it, but after all we’ve been through,” He looks at Mable and smiles, directing attention to his Grunkle’s who were trying their hardest to hide their actual feelings. “Maybe you guys should finally know about it too.” He grinned. “I’m glad you showed us this, Dipper.” Stan shut the book closed. “Uhm, Grunkle Stan. Why does Grunkle Ford look like he’s about to crap himself?” Mable looked concerned for her Grunkle. Everyone turned their attention to Ford who weakly smiled at them. “Excuse him. He’s still shaken–” Ford yanked Stan by the sleeve and pulled him out of the twins room. “We need to go to the lab now!” Ford whispered. “I know that, Stanford! But at least let us pretend we don’t give a ratsass for this book!” He whispered back. “We’ll be back!” Ford awkwardly excused him and Stan. The twins heard their Grunkle speedily walk down the stairs. “Do you think I’m ever going to get that book back?” Mable shrugged.

✶ Placing the books right next to each other, Ford flipped to the pages containing the blueprints. He connected the books together, showing the full plan of the portal. Stan read the instructions and swung over to the controls, he flipped the exact switches that were told to be switched. The lights around the portal flickered on. “Oh my god!” Ford laughed out in surprise. “Is this actually going to work?” Stan and Ford rush over to the portal. Their hearts thrumming against their chest. Together, they pulled the lever. With a click, it moved to the other side and the portal hummed. Zaps of electricity emitted from the portal as it powered back on. A rush of wind blew by Stan and Ford as the portal swirled to life. Ford shook his head in disbelief. “Can’t believe we did it, huh?” Stan says with a smile. “I thought we were never going to get this portal turned on.” Stan claps his back. “Well, believe it!”

✶ Ford was so sure they weren’t going to get caught. He was so absolutely sure. The plan he made to steal the nuclear waste was perfect, there was no room for error. But it seemed like the universe had other plans. He never imagined himself getting pinned to a cop car with cuffs around his wrists. This was more of a Stanley thing, and yet here he is, getting arrested. “This is all just a big misunderstanding!” Ford cried out, his cheek squished against the hood of the cop car. “Guys, can’t I give you some money?” Stan approached them with his hands in his pockets. They all watched him nervously, guns aimed and men ready to tackle him down. “Grunkle Stan, maybe you shouldn’t!” Mable grabs Stan’s hand and pulls him back. “You guys got the wrong guy, my brother is innocent!” Stan argues. “Oh, we’ve been watching your family all summer and we have seen some pretty disturbing things. Whoever you think your brother is, he is not what he seems.” They shove Ford into a car. “Guys!” Ford calls, the door slamming shut on him. Stan watches as they drive off with Ford, his head spinning. “As for you guys, we were removing you off the property.” The guy with a mustache said, directing them to another cop car that was beside them. “No, you can’t!” Stan felt helpless. He just wants you back, why is this so difficult? The chaos spiraled into madness and suddenly, Stan was in the lab, begging the kids to not turn off the portal. “This’ll end the world, Grunkle Stan. Why can’t you see that?” Dipper had his hands hovering dangerously close to the button. “Just listen to me, kid. It’ll make sense later, just don’t press the button.” He walked towards them but was soon taken off his feet. “Brace yourselves!” They all rise up, twirling and thrashing around the room. “T-Minus, thirty five seconds.” The robotic voice said. Dipper had grabbed onto a beam and told Mable to reach for the button. Using the cable wrapped on her foot, she inched herself close to the button. “Mable, wait, wait!” Stan pushed him off the wall and tried reaching towards her. Soos dove straight for Stan and wrapped himself around him, apologizing to him. “Soos, what’re you doing?!” Dipper followed what Soos did and yelled at Mable to turn it off.

✶ “Stop!” Everyone looked around and they all gasped when their eyes landed on Ford. “Mabel, don’t listen to Dipper. Listen to me,” Ford pushed himself toward the nearest beam. He coiled his arm around it, securing himself. “Do you trust me and Stan, Mable?” Ford firmly asked, his eyes locked with Mabel. “I do!” She desperately said. “Then trust us when we tell you to not push the button.” Mabel looked to Dipper who was widely shaking his head. “Okay,” She raises her hands above her head. “I trust you guys.” She let herself float up, away from the button. “Mable, no–!” A white flash envelops them whole.

✶ They all roughly made contact with the floor. With a groan, Stan rubbed his head, his head lifting up towards the portal. The portal flickered with wandering electricity. Ford held his breath, eyes fixed on the portal as he waited. A black figure barreled out of the portal, their head whipping towards it. “Close the portal!” You yelled, your hand wrapping around a gun that was hoisted in their waist. You turned their attention back to Stan and Ford. “Close the portal!” You repeated louder this time. In the distance, they all heard a loud distorted guttural grumble. Ford got up from his feet and rushed over to the control panel, flicking all the switches down. “Switch the lever off!” Switching the gun to your other hand, you aimed it at the portal and with your free hand, you pulled the lever. Before whatever monster was chasing you could catch up, the portal sputtered close. You held your chest, catching your breath. The rush of adrenaline you felt passed and you were immediately struck with pain. “Thank you.” You whisper, clutching your side. You think you can manage and to prove it, you take one wobbly step forward. You tried to take another but you collapsed to your knees, blood splattering on the floor below you. “[Name]!” Stan yelled, he darted towards you. “Stanley?” You croaked out. You blinked in surprise. “Is that really you?” Your question falls on deaf ears as Stan yells for medical supplies. Ford comes rushing to your side, inspecting the upper half of your body. “Stanford’s here too?” You felt your body teeter from side to side. “Is Mom and Dad gonna pop up?” You joke, your body crashing onto Ford. “[Name], can….hear…?” Stan’s voice fades in and out. “What did you say?” Your eyes squint at Stan. “Here, Grunkle…” You could hear a high pitched voice and you go to look for it but your vision has gone hazy. “They’re slipping…out of…” You really wished you understood what they were saying. And without even realizing, your eyes closed on you.

✶ You feel a warmth tickle your face causing you to stir awake. “Oh my gosh, it worked!” A voice spoke. “Mable!” A prepubescent voice filled your ears. “What is with all this talking?” You sleepily grumbled out, peeling your eyes open to see two tween kids staring right at you with big wondrous eyes. “Hi, I’m Mable! I’m your great niece.” She introduced herself. “Great niece?” You groggily got up. “Where am I?” You ask, blinking as your vision comes back to you. “You’re in the Mystery Shack!” She tells you with a chipper attitude. “Mystery Shack?” You look down to see that your original outfit you wore was now discarded somewhere and instead wore a large baggy white tee and heart pajama pants. “What am I wearing?” You pinched at your clothes. “Kids!” A gruff voice was heard behind the doors. “Oh shoot!” Mable looked around the room. “Where do we hide?” Dipper whispered, his eyes darting under the bed. “Go under the bed!” Dipper said, diving straight under. “Please don’t tell Grunkle Stan that we’re here!” She pleaded. “Uhm, yeah?” She beamed and hid right under the bed. In an instant, the door was pushed open and your eyes locked on your brothers. Your brain processed it for a moment, wait… “Stanley, Stanford?!” A gasp leaves Ford. “Why are you awake! You’re supposed to be resting.” Ford scolded. You didn’t pay attention to Ford’s scolding, wrapped up in the moment of seeing your twin brothers living and breathing right in front of you. “Are you guys real?” You try to blink away the tears that were obstructing your view. “Of course we are silly.” Stan laughed, sitting down on the bed right next to you and wrapping you in a side hug. “Stan…” You cried. You had spent countless nights, shouldering the knowledge that you weren’t going to see your brothers ever again. That haunted you every single day from the moment you woke up to the minute you went to sleep. Here you are, proven wrong for once in your life. And it feels so good to be held by Stan again, feels so good to have a familiar feeling wash into your senses again. “How?” You ask, peeling yourself away from Stan’s shoulder, wiping the tears away. “We just kept trying and trying.” Ford told you, a somber smile on his lips. “Oh, Ford. Come here!” You grab his wrist and tug him into the bed. The action caused you to drag and flop all of them on the bed with you. Tearful laughter erupts in the room. “I apologize for the scare earlier,” You say, your hand pressing against your side. “Don’t apologize. It wasn’t your fault.” Stan said. “No, really.” You begin to unwrap the gauze around your waist, ignoring Ford and Stan’s protest. “I heal quickly.” You point to your already sealed up gash. The only thing left to prove that you were injured was the thin scar that spread across. Ford gawks in awe. “You need to tell me an in depth story detailing every single thing you have been doing for the past thirty years.” Ford said with so much seriousness you laughed. “Bu-but you passed out. Ford said it was from blood loss!”

✶ “I only passed out because my body needs to shut down momentarily to heal up my wounds.” You tell him matter of factly. “Oh, great. Now we have another snobby nerd.” Stan joked. “Oh, stop it! You are too, considering you fixed the portal alongside with Mr. Branic over here.” You jabbed a thumb over to Ford who yelled out, “Hey!” in offense. “Hello family!” Mable popped out from under the bed. The three of you screamed loudly in fear, clutching each other. “Woah, didn’t mean to scare you guys!” She helped Dipper out from under the bed. “I just wanted to say that you guys are so adorable!” She squealed, pouncing onto the bed. “I can’t believe I have a Great Aunt/Grunkle who has traveled throughout dimensions. Isn’t that so cool?” She kicked her feet in excitement. “What kinds of monsters did you see out there?” Dipper asked, climbing onto the bed and settling himself between you, Ford and Stan. “A lot.” You respond with a smile. “I never caught your brother's name.” You say, booping Dipper’s nose. “His name is Dipper!” Mable pulls him close to her, cheek to cheek. “We’re twins.” She mentioned. “So it runs in the family, huh?” You elbow the two sets of other twins you had the misfortune to partially grow up with. “Guess so,” Stan smiled. “Let’s play a get to know each other game.” Mable offered. Everyone surprisingly agreed. “Okay, let’s start with Great Aunt/Grunkle [Name]. Tell us about yourself.” The rest of the afternoon was spent catching up with the family and when the game was over, the twins had left, leaving you with Stan and Ford. “Thank you guys for not giving up on me.” You say into the hug. “We’re family! How could we ever abandon you?” Ford replies. An awkward cough emitted from you and Stan looked off to the side. “Oh.” The last thirty years had been rough, for you and the twins, but it was nice knowing that it ended with the three of you once again reunited at last.

IT'S DONNE, and again if you guys want more i'll write more but till then i think this concludes word/insured YIPPIE

Taglist: @boredwithlifeatthispoint, @lovexsage, @teddycricketdream, @theilluminatidragonqueen, @raventeen @cedarmoonzz if you wanna be added to my taglist, dm me or comment! <3

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avis-writeshq · 1 year ago

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01 — better than revenge

summary: “she’s not a saint, no, she’s not what you think. she’s an actress.” pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader genre: best friends to lovers, mutual pining, slow burn warnings: fluff, angst with a happy ending, Lila is a real piece of work here, VERY CANON COMPLIANT, Spencer’s a bit of an ass :( wc: 10.4k a/n: special mention to @astrophileous for beta reading MWAH SPARKS FLY MASTERLIST // MAIN MASTERLIST

“Hey kid, wheels up in thirty.” Derek nods towards you, dropping a case file on your desk.

You raise an eyebrow, flicking open the case file to the first page. A small laugh of disbelief leaves your lips. “Ooh, Los Angeles, media capital of the world. What’s the occasion?”

“Three murders, all shot in the head executional style.”

Your face falls into a grimace as you grab your go-bag and tuck the file under your arm, following the rest of the team to the jet. “Spence and Gideon are there already, right? Talk about timing.”

Elle can’t help but grin at your words, slinking an arm over your shoulder. “Looks like you’ll see loverboy a lot sooner than you think.”

A shriek of betrayal leaves your lips as you throw her arm off of you. “I have no idea what you’re talking about!”

“Sure you don’t,” JJ all but cackles as she boards the plane, grinning the entire way.

“I’m gonna kill you,” you grumble, dropping your things on one of the seats in the jet. “Seriously, I mean it. I know how to get away with murder.”

Hotch raises an eyebrow at you, his gaze that of a disappointed yet amused father. “Not the brightest thing to say while you’re in a room full of FBI agents.”

Elle lets out a ‘hah!’ as she sits across from you, crossing one leg over the other as she grins. “Get comfortable, buttercup, six hour flight and you’re not going anywhere.”

“Assholes.” You roll your eyes teasingly, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear as you turn to your case files. “And it’s not like that.”

“Oh, of course not,” Elle snickers, “you’re just friends.”

You throw a pen at her and it bounces off her leg harmlessly. “I can smell the sarcasm.”

“You’ll be smelling more of it,” Derek laughs, ruffling your hair. “Sit tight, kid, we’re in for a long flight.”

Once everyone was settled and the jet was high in the air, the team began to look through the files with Garcia on speaker as usual.

“First two victims, Wally Melman and Chloe Harris,” You recite dutifully, glancing over the grotesque crime scene images. “Seems like they were both killed in public places.”

“Chloe was killed while walking her dog on the beach in Santa Monica which she did every morning, and Wally was killed outside of a massage parlour,” JJ reiterates, sitting down with a cup of tea in her hand.

“In Culver City,” Derek adds.

“Which he went to every Tuesday,” Elle continues.

Derek looks to the rest of the team, a thoughtful look on his face. “Well, if he knows their schedules, maybe that means he follows his victims for a while.”

“And not a single witness. So we know this UnSub can blend in,” Hotch mutters. “Regardless of the location, he has the ability to hide in plain sight.”

“So, he’s meticulous.” Elle nods, her eyes drifting from Hotch to the case file.

“The media is calling Natalie Ryan’s murder the biggest celebrity homicide since Sharon Tate,” JJ adds, looking through the images of the newspaper clippings that were sent to her laptop.

“Great,” You muse, although frustration is clear in your voice. “What does that mean for us?”

Hotch lets out a sigh. “That everybody will be watching.”

***

“This guy is an assassin?” Detective Kim asks with disbelief as the rest of the team reiterates their thoughts once they were in the police department.

“When you look at the victimology, there’s no obvious links,” Morgan points out. “All the kills were clean except in the instance of the last victim, Jeremy Collins.”

You nod, tucking a strand of hair as you reference the case files. “There’s absolutely no evidence left at the crime scene. Labs have found zero DNA, no manifestation of psychosexual release, and from what we can tell there’s no detectable signature of any kind. These kills are straight forward, almost like he’s on a mission.”

“Remember, our profiles are formulated not just by what’s present at the scene but also what’s absent,” Gideon says to Detective Kim.

“From all the evidence that we’ve gathered, we believe you’re looking for a Type Four Assassin,” Elle explains.

“Type Four?”

Spencer immediately jumps in to explain, gesticulating throughout his explanation. “Type One’s are political assassins like John Wilkes Booth. Type Two’s are egocentrics looking for simple recognition.”

“Type Three’s are psychopaths,” Hotch continues, “cold-blooded killers who leave far messier scenes. Type Four, our UnSub, suffers from a major mental disorder and is frequently delusional.”

“The closer we come to figuring out that delusion, the closer we’ll get to finding the UnSub,” Reid points out.

Everyone is left to their own thoughts and you look over to Spencer, a soft grin on your face. “How was your father-son bonding time?”

Spencer gives you a pointed look, but a soft laugh leaves his lips. “It was… fine.”

“Fine? Out of everyone on the team, Gideon chose you to present a talk about behavioural analysis and profiling to the LAPD. You love conferences. C’mon, give me something!” You nudge his shoulder gently.

“We uh.. we went to an art gallery the other day. We met a movie star, so that was cool…” his cheeks are dusted with a soft pink as he talks and your curiosity only increases.

“A movie star, huh? Look at you, mingling with the high and mighty.” You poke his cheek with a laugh. “Tell me about them.”

He flushes at the contact, clearing his throat. “Um… her name is Lila Archer. Have you heard of her? She’s–”

“Reid, (L/N), we’re meeting with someone,” Derek cuts in, nodding towards the both of you.

You blink in confusion as you follow him to another room. “Suspect?”

“Someone received a note,” Derek says quickly, glancing over at the note in Elle’s hands. “On a newspaper clipping of the latest murder.”

“Lila?”

A blonde woman was sitting in the next room over, her legs crossed over as she waits. Her eyes light up in recognition and she stands up. You can’t help but be impressed as you give her a quick once over. She’s gorgeous, exactly what you expect from a famous movie star.

“I’m Agent (L/N),” You say gently, moving from your spot next to Spencer and holding your hand out. “This is Agent Morgan and I’m assuming you already know Doctor Reid. I understand that you received a note this morning?”

She wearily shakes your hand, her blue eyes flitting between you and Reid. “Yeah.”

“We just have a few questions to ask. We know that these things are sensitive, but we promise we’ll try to make the situation as easy as possible for you.” You shoot her a kind smile, excusing her weariness for fear or anxiety. “Is that alright?”

“Sure.” She respond curtly, shooting a smile towards Spencer before walking past you.

“Uh… okay?” You let out a little laugh in confusion and Derek raises an eyebrow at you.

“What was that about?” He asks, frowning.

You shrug your shoulders, watching as Spencer leads her to an empty desk. “Trust me, I have no idea. Maybe she’s just nervous and wants to talk to a familiar face.”

Derek hums in thought. “Maybe. But usually victims like this are more willing to speak to someone of the same gender. It’s strange that she was so direct to you.”

“She’s been through a traumatic experience. If I got a newspaper clipping with a message written in blood, I probably wouldn’t be too thrilled meeting new people either,” You defend, pursing your lips. “She’s probably just… scared, right?”

He doesn’t respond, moving to follow Spencer and Lila further into the police department. A few questions were asks about her relationship with the other victims, only to find that she was in fact the connection between the other victims. Wally Melman was a producer who Lila met with a few times to discuss a role, only for him to cast Natalie Ryan instead. Chloe Harris looked an awful lot like Lila, so it was likely that the UnSub got rid of her in order to ‘ice-out’ the competition.

“(L/N), may I talk to you for a moment?” Hotch asks quickly, waving you over.

You blink in confusion but nod, walking over to where he stands by the desk. “Yeah, what’s up?”

“I want you to try and get as much information from Lila as possible.” He gestures to where Lila sits in one of the victim waiting rooms. “This is your area of expertise. Try and find out if there’s any distinct information that she’s given to anyone so that we can track the UnSub.”

“Got it.” You offer a smile, fixing your shirt as you agree. “I’ll update you if I get any new information.”

You make your way over to where Lila was sitting, trying to look as friendly as possible. “Hey, Lila. Are you alright? Can I get you anything?”

She glances over you for a second, looking you up and down before shaking her head. “I’m fine. Where’s Spencer?”

Your brows furrow at his words. “Doctor Reid…? He’s currently going through the timeline of events with our colleagues. In the meantime, I was hoping to ask a few questions, maybe shed some light on the entire situation.”

She raises an eyebrow before nodding. “Okay.”

“Alright…” you clear your throat, taking a seat across from her. “You mentioned that you receive a bowl of red anemones on the seventh of every month. Do you mind… telling me why you like those flowers so much?”

She shrugs dismissively, running a hand through her blonde hair. “They’re pretty. I like the colour.”

You nod slowly, writing that down in your notes. “Well that’s understandable; they’re very beautiful flowers. But they’re a little uncommon as a favourite flower, don’t you think? If you like the colour, a more common favourite flower would be poppies or roses… are you sure there isn’t another reason? The meaning behind red anemones is forsaken love and death… does that intrigue you at all?”

She scoffs, “are you trying to accuse me of something?”

“Not at all,” you say quickly, “I apologise if it comes off that way. I’m just trying to find out as much as possible about the entire situation. For all we know, those flowers could have been sent by the UnSub.”

A short silence lulls in the room as well as an awkward tension. So, you try to take things from another angle.

“I love hydrangeas,” you say gently, a small smile on your lips. “I like the way they’re always bunched together and the colours are beautiful. Only a few people know that I like them though. My close friend and colleagues, my family… do you remember telling anyone about your favourite flower?”

She’s quiet for a moment before shrugging. “I don’t know.”

Your face falls and you press a little more. “Are you sure you don’t remember? Maybe… maybe your manager, or a friend of yours?”

“I said ‘I don’t know’, okay?” She snaps, her hands balling into fists as she glares at you. “God, it’s not that hard to understand.”

You lean back in your chair, your gaze hardening. “I understand that this is difficult for you, but any information–”

“I don’t have any information!” Lila huffs, her hands placed in her lap. “Are you stupid or something?”

“The likelihood of these people being murdered because of you is incredibly high,” You say sharply, shutting your notebook. “If you’re withholding information from us it could prove detrimental to the investigation. I’m only trying to do my job. Asking you questions is part of my job.”

Her lips twitch at your words and she scowls. “I already told you I don’t remember.”

“Not remembering and not knowing are two different things, Ms Archer.” You place your card on the table. “If you remember anything, please give me a call.”

You get up from your seat, heading to the door, only to see that it was wide open with Derek and Spencer standing at the doorway. In seconds, Lila’s gaze softens and she runs out of the room, sniffling as she does. Your gaze follows her as she runs out of the police station, a look of disbelief on your features.

“What the…”

“Seriously (Y/N)?” Spencer demands, a frown on his face.

You gape at his words. “What are you–”

He cuts you off, running after Lila. Derek raises an eyebrow in their direction before turning to you.

“You okay, pretty girl?” Derek asks gently, patting your shoulder.

“Honestly? I have no idea,” You confess quietly, biting your lip. “I’ve never seen him get so…”

“Upset? Angry?” he finishes, a small laugh leaving his lips. “You and me both. Look, kid, it’s not your fault. She was clearly being dismissive of your questions and she needed a reality check.”

“It’s not like I’ve never spoken that way when interrogating someone before,” You point out, brows furrowed in frustration. “Even then, Spencer has never had an issue with it. I just– I don’t understand what’s got him so worked up.”

Derek can’t help but laugh. “You’re a profiler. Isn’t it obvious?”

You pause for a moment, thinking through their interaction. “He has a crush on her, doesn’t he? He likes her. Of course he does. Brilliant, now he’s involved.”

Derek pats you on the back sympathetically. “Come on, pretty girl. We’ve got a job to do.”

***

Despite your original hesitancy, Hotch asked you personally to go with the others, meaning that you had no right to refuse. Well, you could, but that would mean throwing Elle under the bus and she would be much more helpful at the precinct than on set. So, before you could fake being sick and bail the investigation, you, Derek, and Spencer went to check out the set of Lila’s movie, hoping to better observe her interactions with her costars and the staff.

The inside of Lila’s small trailer is hot. Incredibly hot but relatively empty. As you look around, you gather that she’s either a minimalist or just didn’t have to spend a lot time in the trailer at all. Lila sits in front of the little group, wearing a robe to cover her costume: a cyan sequinned bikini set that she looked absolutely criminal in. Her hair has been styled in a classic blowout and you wonder how much time it took to get it to look so effortless.

“I’m not stopping my life,” she says, her voice almost stern as she steps out of the trailer and back onto the set.

You purse your lips as you glance at the paper in the plastic pocket, now labelled as ‘evidence’. Apparently it was taped up to the door of her trailer. Your eyes shift to Spencer who’s gaze doesn’t leave the door that Lila just walked out of for much longer than necessary. Neither of you have spoken since yesterday’s incident.

You hum thoughtfully, as you pull out your notebook, glancing at the notes you’ve been making. “Well, I guess the only thing we can do is talk to the people on set. Maybe they saw something. I’ll see if I can find out who has access to Lila’s trailer.”

Spencer nods in your direction. “Yeah, that’s… that’s a good idea.”

One of your eyebrows quirk up. “Okay…? Why do you sound so surprised?”

He flushes under your scrutiny, clearing his throat as the three of you begin to walk out of the trailer and towards the set. “I’m not! I– I’m not surprised. You’re good at your job.”

“You didn’t seem to think that yesterday,” You respond lightly, your tone petty and passive aggressive, gaze flickering between the cameras and lights on set.

Derek coughs awkwardly before excusing himself and entering further into the set leaving you and Spencer alone outside by a vending machine. Spencer falters at your words and he runs a hand through his hair. The harsh Los Angeles sun beats down against your skin and you fiddle with the notebook in your hands. In turn, he fixes up his sleeves, rolling them up to his elbow, giving you a clear view of his forearms and large hands.

“I’m sorry,” He says softly, chewing on his bottom lip. “I didn’t– I was out of line.”

“You were,” You agree, your gaze shifting between the chilled bottled drinks in the vending machine and him. “Buy me a drink and we’ll call it even.”

A boyish grin grows on his face and he nods, pulling out his wallet. “Yeah. Yeah, okay, awesome. Iced coffee?”

“You know me so well,” you respond with an equally large smile, poking his cheek. “Thank you!”

He presses a few buttons, grabbing a Cola for himself. You can’t help but laugh, giving him a pointed look. He quickly moves to defend himself, “It’s a hot day, okay? An exception.”

“An exception,” You repeat, trying to hide your smile as you crack open the lid of your drink and take a sip. “What happened to ‘Cola has 50 grams of sugar in it. That’s the equivalent of eating two full bars of milk chocolate’?”

He pouts at your words, opening his drink and you watch as a few bubbles rise to the top of the bottle. He takes a swig of his drink, sighing in content. “Shut up.”

You laugh again once you officially enter the set, nudging Spencer with your arm teasingly. He nudges you back, rolling his eyes and poking your cheek. You retaliate by doing the same, swinging your drink as you walk.

Before you could do or say anything else, Derek taps your shoulder. “Hey, I need to talk to you about something.”

Spencer’s brows furrow. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah, just wanted to cross reference answers,” Derek dismisses.

“Let me pull up my list,” You respond helpfully, grabbing your notebook. “Hey, Spence, do you mind canvassing the rest of the crew? See if anyone pays any special attention on Lila?”

He nods at your words, moving towards Lila, sipping on his drink. In the meantime, you turn towards Derek, a curious look on your face.

“Little Miss Madonna has been glaring at you since the moment you entered the set,” Morgan says quietly, his gaze flitting to where Lila was making coffee.

You practically snap your neck as you look up in her direction, watching as she quickly fumbles to make herself a cup of something. You turn away and you could practically feel her gaze burning against your scalp. A frown makes its way onto your face and you resist the urge to roll your eyes. You glance over to where she and Spencer were talking, blanching when you watch as she takes a swig of his Cola.

“You don’t mind, do you?” You hear her ask as she drinks and Spencer hurriedly shakes his head.

A quiet scoff leaves your lips and Derek nudges you with a look that reads ‘behave.’ You lift your hands in surrender and follow him over to where Spencer now stands by himself, Lila gone to talk to some other staff member.

“An exception, huh?” You ask Spencer, referring to his aversion to germs and sharing food. Your tone is mostly teasing despite the underlying bitterness beneath it.

“Shut up.” He mutters quietly, cheeks hot from embarrassment of being caught.

Derek snorts, clapping his shoulder before moving on.

***

The next day, you were going over the evidence that was provided by the LAPD. Considering that it was a relatively young case, there weren’t copious amounts of evidence, meaning that there were still untied strings to go through. The entire situation proved more difficult than necessary; no one seemed to notice anything amiss when it came to Lila and her relationships, and considering that the actress wasn’t very forthcoming with the information she knew, you were hitting dead-end after dead-end.

Although geographical profiling was more of Spencer’s expertise than yours, you figured it wouldn’t do anyone harm by triangulating the previous three murders. He was standing beside you, his presence not unwelcome as he guides you step by step on how to plot an understandable and accurate profile. Hotch had asked him to coach you through the entire situation and explain his point of view, as well as his thought process when it came to geographical profiling. With a comfort zone now clearly expressed, you were discussing probable suspects on the phone with Garcia.

“Will Hunter… currently the town hermit, previous criminal record of armed battery and robbery,” Garcia recites, and you pull up his file.

“Mm… maybe? No, I don’t think so. His crimes don’t match the UnSub’s profile. He seems to be messier, uh, tending to use bats and knives than a clean shot to the head. And the profile suggests that the UnSub is able to blend in with the crowd.” You hum in thought, turning to Spencer.

“Hermits like Will Hunter wouldn’t be able to do that,” He explains to Garcia, putting his file into the ‘unlikely’ folder.

Garcia sighs in frustration and you can hear her furiously type away on her computer. “How about–”

“Hold that thought,” Elle says quickly, cutting Penelope off apologetically. “(Y/N), did you know Lila’s here?”

You blink in confusion, slowly shaking your head no. “She’s here? I didn’t get any calls from her.”

Elle shrugs at your words. “She looks like she’s going to burn a hole through your head.”

Your brows furrow and your gaze shifts to the blonde woman through the office window. She has her arms folded over her chest, a scowl on her face, before her cheeks burn in embarrassment of being caught. Spencer follows your gaze, his face lighting up at the sight of the actress. It’s almost as if he has selective hearing when it comes to his celebrity crush, clearly not hearing the part where Elle points out that Lila has been glaring at you the entire time.

“Can we talk outside?” You ask Elle quickly, getting up from your seat, not taking no for an answer.

Spencer opens his mouth to say something before he shuts it, watching as you drag your other co-worker out of the room. Your attention shifts between Lila and Elle, your brows furrowing.

“What is it?” You ask, your back turned towards the actress. “Why is she here?”

“She gave me a list of people who know what her favourite flower is,” Elle says quietly.

Your ears go red at her words, your eyes practically bulging out of your head. “Excuse me?”

“She called me yesterday,” she explains, handing you the list of people. “She said that she remembers who they were and came in today to give me a list of people.”

You scoff in disbelief, throwing your hands up in the air in frustration. “I gave her my card.”

“She called and asked for me.”

You scoff again, rolling your eyes. “Oh, so suddenly she can remember everything when she talks to you, but nothing when she talks to me? She’s not very slick.”

The door behind you opens, revealing Spencer who has been listening in the entire time. His jaw is clenched and a frown is etched upon his features as he looks at you accusingly.

“Maybe she just didn’t remember,” he points out harshly as you and Elle re-enter the room.

An incredulous look makes its way into your face. “Excuse me?”

“She didn’t remember, and now she does,” Spencer says, and from the corner of your eye you watch Elle slowly leave the room once more. The door closes with a soft click.

“That doesn’t change the fact that she went to Elle and not to me,” you respond, trying to keep your voice even and your words clear. You take a deep breath in an effort to calm yourself down.

Spencer scowls at you. “Maybe she has every right to go to Elle after you snapped at her the first time you tried to talk to her.”

“Are you– are you being serious right now?” A humourless laugh leaves your lips as you glare up at him. “Look, Reid, I’m sorry that I’m not her biggest fan and that I don’t kiss the ground she walks on, but I was doing my job. A job that I believe I am quite good at. It’s not like speaking harshly is unheard of when it comes to the retrieval of information.”

He flinches when you call him by his last name but he stands his ground. “If you were so good at your job, you wouldn’t have to speak to her that way,” he argues, and you can see the vein in his forehead begin to protrude.

His words sting and bite you and suddenly you feel your resolve snapping. “You know what?” The words are slow and deliberate as they leave your lips, and you jab a finger against his chest. “I get that you have a crush on her and that you’re finally going through puberty but that does not mean that you can ignore the job you are currently on.”

He swallows thickly and he opens his mouth to retaliate but you push your finger against his chest once more.

“I am not finished.” Your voice is low with frustration and annoyance as you scowl, glaring up at him. “I don’t care who you’re attracted to or who you want to sleep with. I don’t give a damn if that someone is victim in the investigation because it’s not my problem. I do, however, have a problem when you undermine my ability to do my job and do nothing to fix it.

The worst part is the fact that you’re my friend. You’re supposed to be supportive and helpful and– and– and understanding.” Your mouth is moving quicker than your brain can register and you’re stumbling over your words as you snap at him. “I’m supposed to be able to go to you if I’m going through something. I should be able to talk to you if someone or something is bothering me, but now I’m just afraid that you’ll call me crazy and then criticise me all over again.”

His face falls and he looks at you like a kicked puppy as the words slowly sink in. He reaches out to you, his hazel eyes searching your face but the only emotion that you’re showing is anger. You push his hand away, the frown set on your eyebrows. It’s only then when you realise that Garcia has been listening into the conversation the entire time, your heart lurching to a stop when you hear her cough on the other side of the line.

“Um… is now a bad time to say that I didn’t get any other hits for the profile?” She asks tentatively through the speaker, and you feel your face burning.

“I need air,” you announce to no one in particular, before grabbing your files and storming out of the room.

Elle catches your arm on the way out, her eyebrows knitted together in concern. “(Y/N)-“

“Hey. Sorry.” You bite your lip, loosening the grip you have on your papers. “Where’s Hotch?”

“With Derek and Gideon,” she says gently. “Lila got another note and we’re going to check on her manager. Do you want to come with?”

You exhale before nodding. “Yeah. That’d be good.”

“Okay.” She squeezes your arm gently, her eyes flitting between you and Spencer who was inside the conference room, pacing back and forth. “Is… everything alright?”

“Honestly? No.” You offer her a wry smile, shoving your files into your bag. “But it’s fine.”

She chuckles a little in disbelief, leading you to the black SUVs outside. Derek and Gideon were already there, waiting patiently for the two of you while Hotch has already left in another SUV. Apparently the ‘no profiling each other’ rule was thrown out the window as soon as they saw the state you were in, and Derek quickly makes his way over to you.

“(Y/N), are you–”

“I’m fine,” you snap, before closing your eyes tightly and letting out a deep breath. “Sorry, Morgan. I’m okay, just had an argument with Reid.”

At that, his eyebrows shoot upwards. “Since when did you call him ‘Reid’? And what do you mean you had a fight with him? He literally can’t say no to you.”

“Yeah, that was before a Miss Archer walked into the room,” you mutter bitterly. “Shot a literal arrow through his heart. She put her name to good use. I never stood a chance.”

“Hey now, don’t say that,” Elle says, climbing into the SUV. You follow closely behind and she continues. “He’s just confused right now.”

You can’t help but scoff. “I really doubt that.”

Gideon starts the car, looking at you through the rear view mirror. “You’re a profiler. What do you really think?”

The words die at your tongue and you deflate into the seat of the car. You hate to admit it, but Gideon is right. You should be able to figure out exactly what Spencer is thinking. After all, he’s your best friend– you shouldn’t have to be worrying about guessing games when it comes to him.

Hotch is the first to arrive at the manager’s office, watching as your group pull up in front of the building. Once everyone clambours out of the car, they enter the building, a sigh of relief leaving them as they enjoy the air conditioned lobby. With a flash of a badge, the receptionist is quick to tell you which floor and room number Michael was in.

“Floor 11, Room 03,” you mumble to yourself as you scribble it down in your notes.

The elevator ride is silent and you rock back and forth on your feet as the lift begins to rise. Your head is spinning with thoughts and regrets as you consider the harsh words that you spat at Spencer’s face less than an hour ago. You must not have been hiding your frustration well because Hotch finally says something.

“Is everything alright?” He asks, much like a father would when their child is having a tantrum. It’s fitting.

You shrug. “I will be.”

“Is it to do with Reid?”

You cough awkwardly, glancing back at the notes in your hand. “That obvious?”

Derek snorts from behind you. “Yeah, a little.”

“Everyone knows you’re in love with him,” Elle adds, a teasing lilt to her voice.

“I am– I am not in love with him!” You all but shriek, shooting her a half hearted glare and you stutter out a response. “I mean, I– uh– I like him but–“

“You are a horrible liar,” Derek cackles and you groan.

Hotch and Gideon watch amused at the interaction, and the latter finally pipes in.

“Profiling isn’t something you can just turn off,” he explains to you, his tone gentle. He reminds you of a grandfather giving advice to their youngest grandchild, and a small smile makes its way onto your face. He continues to speak, “it’s subconscious and it becomes a habit. The only time it stops is when you either need it most, or when you don’t want to see anything.”

The elevator comes to a stop on the eleventh floor and Michael’s office wasn’t far away. The writing on the frosted glass reads ‘1103, Michael Ryer & associates, talent management’ and Elle raps on the door.

“Hello?”

“Mr Ryer?” Gideon calls.

She knocks a few times again before opening the door entirely. “Michael–”

You’re met with Michael Ryer, dead in his arm chair and shot to the head, just like all the other victims. Despite having faced these circumstances before, you still feel sick to the stomach as you stare at Michael’s lifeless body and soulless eyes. It’s unnerving.

“Up until now every victim was a person who could be perceived as a threat to Miss Archer,” Hotch comments as they enter the room, pulling out his phone.

“Yeah, but Michael was a friend,” Elle says with a frown.

You look up from your notes. “He was a threat to the stalker.”

In less than twenty minutes, the LAPD dispatched forensics and evidence teams to the office. Lila and Spencer were on their way back to her house, deciding that it was best to deny the stalker access to her. You rifle through Michael’s belongings: his schedules, his files… everything until you come to one particular manila envelope.

“Morgan, Elle, look at this,” you murmur, pulling the photos out of the envelope. “Pictures of Lila… nude.”

A flash of a grimace passes along Elle’s face, but it’s gone as quickly as it appears. “He was probably paying someone to keep them out of the press.”

“The name on the file says Joe Martinez,” Derek mutters, turning the envelope over.

The name must have struck a chord, because Detective Kim’s head immediately snaps around to look at you. “Paparazzo?”

You blink. “You know this guy?”

“Yeah, I deal with him a lot,” Kim responds, his face stoic.

“We should follow that lead,” You comment, tucking the photos back in the envelope and looking over at Detective Kim and Derek. “I’m ready to go when you are?”

After an okay from Hotch, you, Derek, and Detective Kim make your way over to the Joe Martinez’s place. After knocking on the door to his place multiple times, Derek decides to open it in the way he knows best: by kicking it down. You grip your gun, holding it out in front of you as you travel through the hallways.

“Clear!” You yell out upon pushing another door open, seeing nobody inside.

“(Y/N), you need to check this out,” comes Morgan’s call, and you follow the direction of his voice

Pinned above a small desk are picture upon pictures of Lila Archer. When she has lunch, when she’s out with her friends… it’s almost as if this person has completely documented her life. It’s a little nerve wracking, knowing that someone could follow you and take photos without anyone even realising.

“Hey is that–” you pause, pulling a piece of paper off the wall. “This is Lila’s schedule.”

Derek blinks in surprise. “I’m guessing he’s not supposed to have that?”

“No,” Detective Kim responds, and your gaze shifts to the table.

“Hey, isn’t that–” you feel your heart practically stop as you see who’s in the photos.

“That’s Reid,” Derek mutters.

Kim shifts through the photos. “There’s a whole bunch of them,” he says, pulling out at least five or six print outs. “Is he a target now?”

Derek scoffs, throwing the photos on the table and pulling out his phone, making a beeline for the exit. “Not if I can help it.”

You and Detective Kim follow him out, making your way to the SUV.

“Reid? Hey, it’s Morgan. Listen, you gotta watch your back over there, we just found a bunch of close-up photos of you at this guy Joseph Martinez’s studio. It looks like he could be the UnSub.”

As he speaks you feel your heart pound in your ears. Your head is dizzy with fear and you’re following after Morgan who’s walking unbelievably quickly.

“He has a ton of photos of Lila and Nathalie plus a call sheet for Lila’s show,” Derek continues, the speed of his walk not wavering. “(Y/N) and I are on our way right now but I need you to be real careful until we get there, all right?”

You look down to shove your notes back into your bag when you hear it. The distinct vrooming of a motorcycle engine. You don’t think too much of it, only turning your head to look over your shoulder, your hand finding the handle of the car door. That’s all it takes for the motorcyclist to drive straight toward you and the others, pointing an arm out.

“Gun!” You manage to scream, just before the UnSub open fires, hitting Detective Kim.

You dive behind the car, grimacing when your knee collided roughly against the pavement. By the time you manage to recover and grab your gun out of its holster, the UnSub is long gone. You stare as Morgan fires a couple shots before watching the motorcyclist ride off into the LA traffic, and you turn to Detective Kim.

“You got hit. Where?” You ask, shoving your gun back into its holster.

He grunts in pain, his entire weight on the car as he groans out, “yeah, it’s fine. Just my shoulder.”

“Derek, call for help,” you order, pressing firmly at the wound with your hand to lessen the bleeding. He lets out a cry of pain and you wince. “Sorry, it’s bleeding a lot. Gunshot wound to the shoulder, no exit wound. Seeing as you’re not already dead, I don’t think it hit any major arteries, but it might have busted your collarbone. You’re lucky if that’s the extent of the damage. The shoulder contains a bunch of important and major bloodlines, as well as nerve endings.”

Derek turns to you with a wry smile. “You’re starting to sound like Reid.”

“You spend four years with him, you’ll start to learn a few things,” you respond with a humourless laugh. You continue to press against Detective Kim’s wound, murmuring an apology.

“You should talk to him,” Derek prompts.

You scoff, “we have a detective bleeding in front of us and the thing you’re worried about is my love life?”

“Isn’t the first rule of relieving pain through distraction?” He asks. You shoot him an unimpressed look and he quickly nods his head. “Okay, sorry.”

Ten minutes later, Detective Kim is hoisted into the ambulance. You cringe as you wash his blood off your hands, once, twice, then a third time to make sure everything is gone. Your shirt has a couple of blood spots and you can’t help but frown; you liked that shirt. At least the stain isn’t too big– just a few splotches here and there.

“It’s a good thing you held the wound,” an EMT praises, working quickly to secure Kim’s shoulder. “He shattered his collarbone, but you seemed to have managed to control the bleeding.”

If it weren’t for the circumstances, you would have shouted a clear ‘I told you so’ to both Derek and Detective Kim, but you keep your mouth shut.

Hotch, Gideon, and Elle arrive moments later, speaking to Derek about the detective’s injuries.

“You okay?” Elle asks gently, squeezing your shoulder.

“Yeah,” you murmur, wringing your hands together. “Just a little jumpy. I’ll be fine.”

“We need to get to her house,” Gideon mutters, glancing at the group.

Without another moment to lose, you’re clambering into an SUV, gripping the steering wheel until your knuckles turn white. Elle climbs into the passenger seat beside you, her brows knitted together in concern. She opens her mouth to say something but shuts it, watching as you start the car and speed off into the direction of Lila’s house.

After slamming the door shut and gripping the gun firmly in the palm of your hand, you follow Derek through the back entry of the house. You weren’t even sure if it could even be counted as a ‘house’; the place looked like it had at least five bedrooms on both floors. Derek glances at you, signalling to be quiet, then another to keep your eyes on him. A quiet splashing in the pool alerts your attention, and despite his attempts of getting you to not look, you do. And as soon as you do, you really wish you hadn’t.

You are met with the sight of Lila Archer in her bikini-clad glory, in the pool with Doctor Spencer Walter Reid. Doctor ‘pools are incredibly unhygienic, harbouring more than 50 million different types of bacteria’ Reid. And as if it couldn’t get any worse, you watch as their lips touch again and again, his hands cupping her face and her hands arms around his neck.

Spencer pulls away from the kiss, his breath heavy and his head spinning. This is wrong. He’s not supposed to being do this. His brain is short circuiting and it’s even worse when he considers all the germs that could be in this pool. His head spins with the names of viruses and bacteria that could be festering in the waters he was currently in, and then he remembers he has more pressing matters to attend to. Namely the girl who was literally pressing her lips to his.

He pulls away, stammering over responses. “We can’t– we shouldn’t. I’m a federal agent and you’re–”

Lila stares at him, amused, with her hands cupping his neck. “There’s no one here.”

“I’m supposed to be protecting you,” Spencer tries again, anxiety gnawing at his stomach. This is wrong. Unprofessional. Then his mind wanders to you and the nagging voice in the back of his mind urges him to do something.

“There are police out front,” Lila says, kissing him again before continuing, “there are coyotes out back.”

“This is completely inappropriate,” Spencer stutters out, his hands reaching for her shoulders. Her skin is cold from the summer night’s breeze, even more so considering how they’re submerged in disgusting chlorine-filled pool water.

“This?” She presses her lips to his once more. “What’s this?”

“This isn’t–” he swallows thickly, his cheeks flared. “No, there’s this thing called transference–”

Lila pulls away, her stare drifting from his eyes to his lips as she asks, “you don’t like me?”

Spencer blanches at the question. “What?”

“You don’t like me,” Lila repeats, more sure of herself now. “It’s because of her, right?”

He frowns at the insinuation. “‘Her’? Who’s ‘her’?”

“The other person on your team,” Lila says, her words bitter. “You like her don’t you?”

His mouth goes dry and he opens and closes it like a fish out of water. “What?”

“Let me change your mind,” she whispers, bringing her lips to his for the nth time.

Spencer barely has time to react, his hands moving to the side of her face and he imagines that she’s you. But she’s not you and you would never kiss him in the middle of the pool. You would never pull him in by his tie and cut him off when he’s speaking. He pulls away.

“Stop. Stop, Lila, I’m sorry, I have to– I have to tell you something.” His mind is blanking. Why is it that when he needs it, his brain shuts off?

“What?” Lila asks, her lips moving to his cheek and then to his jaw.

“I didn’t want to tell you this before because I was a bit worried.” He’s screaming at himself in his head, kicking himself because ‘why the hell did he just say that?!’ Regardless of the way he wishes he could shut his mouth and run out of the pool, he continues, “I don’t know how to say it but I can’t not tell you.”

“What is it?” She finally pulls away and Spencer lets out a breath of relief.

The relief is short lived because he starts to blab, “Your manager, Michael–”

“What?”

“Gideon went to check on him but he got there too late.” Spencer thinks he’s going to hurl, his mind running a million times an hour and screaming, ‘No you idiot! No, no, no! Out of all the things you could say–’

Lila scrambles out of the pool, clearly distraught, and he reaches out to touch her arm… only to be swatted away with her sobbing and telling him not to touch her. He figures he deserves that and follows out of the pool after her.

“How could you– how could you not tell me?” Lila demands, her tears mixing with the pool water already on her face.

“I was afraid you’d be upset,” Spencer says lamely, water dripping from his trousers and he just wants a towel.

“You– you knew what you knew and… how could you not…?” She’s on the verge of hyperventilating and she looks at him before looking away.

“I’m sorry,” Spencer says quietly, not knowing what else to say.

Lila retreats into her house, shutting the glass sliding door behind her and Spencer can only watch as she throws a pillow at the wall before going up the stairs to her room. He stands there, in the cold, dripping wet from the pool water and he wipes his face with his hand. His gun sits on the table, damp, and he has the urge to scream. Before he could do something exceedingly stupid, the sound of footsteps alert him and he spins around.

“Elle?”

“We found him in the bushes,” she says to Spencer, nodding to the guy being cuffed by Derek.

“I told her she should cut those.” He says dismissively, wiping his gun with a towel. He looks at her and then at you. He swallows thickly, noticing the way your eyes look him up and down, the disapproval oozing in your stare. “I– uh– I fell in.”

“Yeah,” you respond, holding the camera up and a sarcastic smile blossoms on your face. “I’m sure there are plenty of photos of it.”

He sighs, “(Y/N)–”

“Hey, stop shoving me, man!” Joe snaps as Derek pushes him to walk forward.

“You’re a suspect in the murder of Wally Melman, Natalie Ryan, and Jeremy Collins.”

You watch as Joe’s face comically contorts from annoyance to confusion as he jumps to defend himself. “Murder? What? Whoa! Whoa, whoa, whoa–”

“Just shut up with the ‘whoa’. We know for a fact that you have hundreds of photographs of Lila Archer and Natalie Ryan on the walls of your studio. You have Miss Archer’s daily schedule on your desk. You’ve been stalking her.”

“Look, guy, hold up. Every paparazzi’s a celebrity stalker,” Joe says and the rest of the group turn to look at him incredulously. He continues to speak undeterred. “If you don’t stalk them, you don’t get the shot, and if you don’t get the shot, you don’t sell no pictures.”

“Yeah, well this one’s gonna cost you,” you hum, holding the camera in your hands and ripping the film out despite his yells of defiance.

Derek steps forward, pushing Joe to keep him walking. “Tell it to your lawyer.”

“Wh– I’m still being locked up?”

“That’s right, at the very least you’re trespassing.”

Elle and Derek walk Joe out of the premises, and you push the pulverised film against Spencer’s chest. He grips it in his hands, a soft ‘oof’ leaving his lips at the contact.

“You’re welcome,” you mutter, albeit a little bitterly, as you turn to follow the rest of your team out.

“(Y/N), listen, it didn’t mean anything,” he says softly, squeezing the film in his fist tightly while the other hand reaches out to you.

You roll your eyes, opening up the sliding door. “I told you, Reid, I don’t care who you sleep with.”

He splutters a little, pushing his hair away from his face. “We didn’t– I didn’t– we didn’t sleep together, you know that.”

“Even more reason why I shouldn’t care.”

His hand grips onto your shoulder, turning you around so that you’re facing him. “But you do. ‘Shouldn’t’? You care. You clearly obviously care, (Y/N).”

“I don’t,” you deny, pushing his hand away. “Reid–”

“Stop calling me that.”

“–it doesn’t matter. I don’t care. I’m leaving.”

He grabs onto your arm, stopping your retreat. “Why are you being like this?”

“I am not ‘being like’ anything!”

“(Y/N).”

“Doctor, this is highly unprofessional.”

He has to stop the frustrated groan that was moments away from leaving his lips as he stares at you. His eyes ghost over your frame, stopping directly at the dark red splotches on your shirt.

“What happened?” He demands, taking a step closer. “Are you hurt?”

“I’m fine.”

“Who’s blood is that?”

“Detective Kim’s.”

“What– were you shot at?”

His hands fly to your face, trembling and cold, and you would have thought it was romantic if he didn’t do the exact same thing less than twenty minutes ago with another girl.

“It doesn’t matter,” you dismiss quietly.

“Don’t say that.”

“God, you act as if we’re dating or something!” You snap, pulling away from him.

He stops short, his cheeks and ears reddening at your words. His mind goes blank and suddenly he feels very warm at the idea. Dating you? Every moment he had with Lila in that pool is nothing compared to the idea of dating you.

He watches as you roll your eyes before tugging your arm out of his grip. He wants to cry out again, to say something, but his head just seems to repeat the words ‘we’re dating’ over and over again.

“Just forget it, Reid.” You look to the house and your gaze grows steely once more. “Your girlfriend is calling.”

***

“I want to try and talk to some of Lila’s close friends,” you say to the others after getting off the phone with Garcia. “According to Penelope, there’s a girl named Maggie Lowe on the list that Lila gave us and they’ve known each other since college. Apparently, they spent a lot of time together and Lila helped her get a job.”

“I’ll go with you,” Elle says instantly, climbing into the car. “Why Maggie?”

You start the ignition, backing out of the driveway and onto the main road, following the GPS directions. “They spend almost all of their time together. I mean, she must have noticed something off, you know?”

Elle nods slowly in understanding. “She knows about the red anemones, right?”

“Yeah. And she was the one who found the note taped to the door.” You pause, thinking through the evidence again. “Her apartment is right in the middle of the comfort zone.”

“You think she could be the UnSub?”

“It all seems too convenient. But then again, we didn’t profile the stalker as a woman. There have got to be some inaccuracies or things we overlooked because of the gender,” you murmur, stopping at a red light. “Call Garcia for me.”

The phone rings once before Penelope’s unmistakable voice chimes through. “Speak my pretties, and you shall be heard!”

“Hey, Pen, can you check what vehicle is registered under Maggie Lowe’s name?” You ask into the speaker, parking in front of the apartment.

“Checking, checking… aha! It’s a Honda Motorcycle, she just got it serviced six and a half months ago.”

“That’s the vehicle that the UnSub was driving when they shot at us,” you mumble in realisation. “Call the others, the UnSub might be Maggie Lowe. We’re checking the apartment now.”

“Gideon and Derek are at the art gallery to talk to Parker Dunley,” Elle points out. “I’ll let them know we’re at her apartment.”

There’s a typing on the other side of the line and Penelope chimes in once more. “Bad news, my loves. The cameras report Lowe’s motorcycle leaving the apartment complex half an hour ago.”

“Garcia, call Reid and tell him what we know. Elle and I are going into the apartment. We might find evidence or clues on who the next victim might be.”

With that, you hang up, getting out of the car and running up the stairs with Elle hot on your heels.

“Maggie Lowe?” You call through the door, knocking once then twice.

You’re met with silence and you grimace, deciding to do Derek’s favourite move: kicking the door down. With a crash, the door slams open and you grip your gun a little tighter in your hand. Bathroom, clear. Kitchen and pantry, clear. Lounge, clear. Bedroom, clear– you stop short. Pictures– framed pictures– of Lila hung around the wall. A cork board with newspaper clipping and magazine cut outs were pinned meticulously to the cork backing, each one with Lila’s face and name circled with bold red marker.

“Holy shit…” Elle whispers, holstering her gun and staring at the wall. “This is… this is beyond obsession.”

“You’re telling me,” you respond, putting on a blue glove and flipping through the cork board. “Call the others, Maggie is definitely the UnSub. Someone this obsessed must have…” you pause, filing through the desk on the other side of the room, “… a diary. Each murder was described to detail in each entry, as well as her feelings towards Lila.”

Elle grimaces as she looks over your shoulder to read the diary entries. “Grim.”

You huff out a laugh. “Yeah.”

Above her desk are images of Lila. Every single show she’s been in since Julliard, every time she was mentioned in an article, posters, newspaper clippings of the murders… the entire ordeal makes you feel sick.

Elle sucks in a breath, staring at the desk. “She’s got Lila’s entire life documented.”

“And she’s probably already at Lila’s house,” you mutter, grabbing your phone. “We need to get over there, now.”

***

“The city of angels everything you thought it would be?” Derek asks amusedly, leaning against the wall of the jet as he watches you pour your third cup of coffee in the past three hours.

It’s a couple days after Maggie Lowe was apprehended and the team were on the jet home getting some much needed rest. The aircon was put on full blast and you couldn’t be more grateful for it, enjoying the coolness on your skin in contrast to the hot Los Angeles weather.

“I’m never coming back here,” you quip, your gaze shifting to where Spencer sits. He’s reading a book but he hasn’t turned a page for the past thirty seconds. “If I were to overthrow America, Los Angeles is the first place to go.”

Derek snorts, his eyebrows raising. “You don’t mean that.”

“I do,” you huff, finally looking at him. “I’m serious!”

“Sure kid. Totally believe you.”

He’s teasing, a knowing smirk on his face as he watches you chug the coffee with a grimace. Your tongue burns and you fill the cup with water and chug that as well, ignoring the amused look Derek keeps sending you. From the corner of your eye you see Spencer reading his book. At least, it would appear that he was reading to someone who didn’t know him. But you know him. He’s been staring into the pages for the past minute now and that alone was enough to let you know that he was paying more attention to your and Derek’s conversation than to the words on the page.

You resist the urge to roll your eyes as you sit beside Elle who is already fast asleep. You envy her for a moment as she leans against the plane window, blissfully unaware to your mental torment. Stupid Spencer and his stupidly pretty face. From where you’re sitting you can see the back of his head and you glare at that the ridiculous mop of brown on his head.

The rest of the plane ride is uneventful and by the time you make it back to the office it’s already late. It’s nearing one in the morning and everyone begins to head home. Derek is yawning as he leaves the office and Elle has a look that screams ‘Don’t talk to me’. Gideon is long gone and Hotch was in his office, packing up the last of his papers and files.

Spencer is sitting at his desk, combing through the paperwork and stashing a couple pages into his satchel. He bids farewell to Derek and the others before shoving his train pass into his pocket.

“You’re taking the train?” You ask, finally speaking to him.

His eyebrows raise in surprise and he shifts on his feet, gripping the strap of his bag. “Um, yeah. I took the train here, so...”

“Oh.” You nod, glancing at the clock. “No you’re not.”

He huffs out a laugh. “What?”

“You’re crazy if you think I’m letting you get onto a train at one in the morning,” you say, pointing with your chin to the elevator. “You might be a man and all, but it doesn’t change the statistics.”

You know his weakness. Statistics. Facts. Spencer hates the fact that you know him so well.

He relents, getting into the elevator with you. “I thought you were mad at me.”

He hears you scoff, pressing B1 on the elevator. “Just because I’m mad at you, doesn’t mean that I’m going to let you do something potentially dangerous.”

He hates the way your words makes his heart flutter and he continues speak. “I didn’t mean to make you upset.”

“It doesn’t change the fact that you did,” you respond curtly, watching as the elevator doors open. “Come on, my car is that way.”

Spencer flinches at your tone. “I’m sorry.”

You laugh. “You don’t even know what you’re sorry for.”

“I–” the words die on his tongue as he wracks his brain. “I thought it was because you didn’t like Lila.”

“That’s true,” you murmur, unlocking the car. “Look, Reid–”

“Please,” he cuts you off, his voice cracking as he practically begs. “Please stop calling me that.”

He doesn’t miss the way your eyes flicker to him as you tug the car door open. “You want me to stop calling you by your name?”

Spencer’s nostrils flare as he gets in the car. “You know that’s not what I mean.”

You laugh again as you start the engine, glancing at the mirrors. “Everyone calls you Reid. It shouldn’t be any different for me.”

He huffs. “But it is different. You’re… different.”

“How?” You challenge, backing out of the parking spot and getting onto the main road. You’ve memorised the route from Quantico to Spencer’s apartment in DC– an almost one hour drive and you understand why Spencer hates driving to and from work.

He falters before shaking his head. “It doesn’t matter. Just please don’t call me by my last name again.”

“Spencer,” You try again, missing the visible relief in his eyes, “I’m not mad at you because of something as miniscule as a girl. You’re entitled to your own relationships outside of work.”

“I don’t under– oh.” The realisation dawns on him when he recalls all the words you threw at him at the precinct. “I wasn’t a very good friend, was I?”

“No, Spencer, you weren’t.” You don’t hesitate to say it and Spencer winces at how quickly you agree with him. “You were unfair and let your emotions get in the way of the case. You criticised me and undermined my authority and then you had the absolute nerve to act as if nothing was wrong.”

“I’m sorry,” he croaks out, the lump in his throat getting bigger.

“It hurt, Spencer,” you say, and your voice cracks as well. “It hurt because you’re my best friend and I would have supported you through everything. You know that. And I get that friends fight, but I thought that we wouldn’t fight about something as stupid as who you hook up with.”

“I didn’t hook up with her,” Spencer says quietly, and he thinks he might cry. “I’m serious, (Y/N), I didn’t hook up with her. She kissed me–”

“It doesn’t matter.” Your gaze shifts to him for barely a second before it’s back on the road. “Like I said, it doesn’t matter who you’re attracted to. I just didn’t think it would effect our friendship.”

“I’m sorry,” Spencer says again, holding onto his bag.

You’re quiet before continuing, “ I know you are. I know that. I’m sorry that you thought that you needed to justify your feelings to me.”

He swallows thickly, watching your face carefully. You didn’t do anything to make him feel like he had to justify himself. If anything, it was Spencer’s conscious that made him feel the need to explain himself. The guilt that he felt after kissing Lila was enough to get him to feel sick. The guilt that he felt after knowing how badly he hurt you was enough to make him want to grovel at your feet.

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” He mumbles, wetting his bottom lip. “You had– have– every right to be upset.”

“I don’t want to be upset anymore,” You say as you continue to drive down the freeway.

He’s quiet before he finally says, “I miss you.”

“I miss you too.”

He swallows the lump in his throat and he presses the pads of his fingers into the corner of his eyes. “I’m so sorry.”

You finally park in front of his apartment, leaning against the chair. “I know. I know, I’m sorry too. I said… a lot of things.”

“I deserved it,” he says, a small laugh leaving his lips as he finally looks at you. “You’re right, I wasn’t being fair.”

You hum, leaning over the console to give him an awkward hug. He presses his nose into your shoulder, breathing in your vanilla perfume. His arms wrap around your middle and he realises how much he missed this. How he missed being close to you.

“I won’t do it again,” he promises.

“I know.”

“I really am sorry.”

“You need to stop apologising.” Your words come out like a laugh and he realises how much he misses that sound too.

“I’ll make it up to you,” he says into your shoulder. “Coffees for a month. I’ll even get you those croissants you like, even though they’re really overpriced.”

You laugh again and he smiles.

“You apologising is already good enough,” You say, squeezing his arms. “Now go get some rest, Spence.”

His smile widens at the nickname and he finally pulls away. “Good night. Thank you for driving me home.”

You smile back. “Good night. Don’t mention it.”

The next morning, you find a steaming coffee on your desk and a freshly baked croissant in a brown paper bag. Spencer waves at you and you can’t help the goofy grin on your face as you take a bite into the croissant.

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literaila · 8 months ago

Text

jealousy

gojo satoru x fem!reader

summary: satoru doesn't like the way the barista is looking at you

a/n: figured i'd give you all a little fluff (save me from this void)

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year five.

“megumi, go get your mom.”

satoru and megumi are sitting in a crowded cafe, saving your spot, waiting for you to come back.

while the sun coming in through the window satoru is sitting across from is partially blinding him, he can still see you.

you, trying to order, being ogled by the barista who's been granted the pleasure of speaking to you. your smile is normal--to satoru's obvious disdain--and you don't even seem to mind the man's obvious flirting.

(not that it really means much. when satoru leans in like that, you just push him away. when he swoons at the way you've done your hair on any specific day, you just roll your eyes.

so maybe you're not the best judge of flirting. or attraction. or how to reject a tiny schoolboy, like the one you're talking to.)

satoru's only been watching this interaction for thirty seconds, but he's had enough.

“why?” megumi turns, looking back at you. “she’s getting us hot chocolate.”

satoru sighs, no care in the world. can't the kid ever listen to him? “go hold her hand then.”

“why?”

“because.”

“but why?”

satoru gives megumi a (pathetic) glare. “listen to me, young man," he tries to say it like you would--if megumi ever denied any of your requests--but it doesn't work. satoru has to try not to laugh directly after the words are out of his mouth.

so what if he doesn't want you talking to that kid? he's just looking out for you.

megumi's brows raise. he looks... almost amused. “what’s wrong with you? you go hold her hand.”

satoru hangs his head. you told him to sit here and keep the table for all of you, told him to watch megumi and not do anything stupid--which, to be fair, is difficult for him. so he can't go get you (save you).

and plus, he doesn't want you to know that he cares. if you like that kid--with his stupid dark hair and eyes and soft smile and obvious heart eyes--then he doesn't want to know.

and if he goes up to you, he'll know.

“i can’t," he tells megumi, instead of saying any of that. the boy would just cackle in his face.

“are you scared?” megumi asks, very seriously, as if satoru is afraid of anything.

(besides you falling for someone else, of course. but that doesn't count).

he looks over to the kid again, who you're chatting idly with as you search through your purse. he wonders if you're telling the barista that you spend every night in his bed, making out with him until your lips are puffy.

if he keeps smiling at you like that satoru is going to get up and tell him himself.

satoru scoffs, looking away finally, back to megumi who looks thoroughly entertained by his father's pain. he crosses his arms. “no.”

megumi shrugs, looking back again. seriously, satoru should've kicked him out when he had the chance. he probably would've been fine with the zenin clan. probably.

“well, i’m not doing it," the boy says, with obvious satisfaction.

if only tsumiki was here. satoru never should've let megumi ditch school, or let him come with you both to get coffee. tsumiki would help him. she probably would've asked you to get yakitori instead and satoru could listen to you try to make small talk with a waitress instead of that guy.

“megumi fushiguro,” satoru begins, voice rough. “do you want your mother to live in a rat-infested apartment with a random, cesspit man, and several tiny babies running around all of the time? tiny wimpy babies? normal, human babies. you’ll have to stay over there and share a bed with multiple infants who will spit up on you.”

megumi blinks. “what are you even talking about?”

“go stand next to her," satoru hisses, because he swears he can hear your laugh from across the cafe, and honestly he's never wanted to destroy an establishment more.

and that's saying something.

at least the man would be without a job and satoru would never have to see him push his hair back and tilt his head at you again.

megumi looks back again like it's going to explain anything satoru does, and he smirks. “that guy doesn’t look too bad.”

satoru's jaw clenches. “i will mismatch all of your socks.”

megumi scowls at him. "all of my socks are the same, after last time."

satoru huffs and leans back against his chair, pouting. "what did i do to deserve this?"

“do you think mom likes him?” megumi asks, voice so innocent it makes satoru want to shave his hair off.

“go.”

megumi blinks at him, tilting his head. yeah, he's really putting on an act now. “but she said to wait here," he reminds satoru like it matters.

“tell her you missed her, or something," satoru goes to wave a hand, but his hand only clenches when he physically sees you laugh at the man. you're not even ordering now, you're just standing there (waiting for their drinks) talking to the guy.

“you tell her you missed her," megumi retorts, enjoying satoru's one and only weakness.

"no."

"she's laughing," megumi points out, resting his chin on a hand. "and it's rude to interrupt grown-ups when they talk."

“megumi,” satoru begs, hating the weird, annoying feeling in his chest. he wants to dig his own heart out and yell at it. “please.”

megumi is basically smirking at him now, waiting for a beat longer for satoru to really break--and seriously kill every person within a ten-mile radius--but eventually, right before it happens, the boy sighs. his eyes are evil, evil things.

"fine," he tells satoru, rolling his eyes. he stands up from his hair and pats satoru on the shoulder like it will make up for anything. the boy has the worst smile satoru's ever seen in his life.

and then he makes his way through the line of people--seriously, this guy is a terrible barista--and taps you on your waist, going to stand right up against the counter. megumi says something to you--you will all of your charm, and your irresistible smiles--and you hold a hand out to him, which he grabs immediately.

your smile, satoru notices with immense relief, shifts on instinct. it goes from something formal and polite to something genuine. you look down at your son and the barista you've been talking to for the last minute is completely irrelevant.

and satoru takes great satisfaction in the way the kid's eyes widen, and the instinctual step back he takes--like he knows that satoru is going to hurt him if he continues to lean over the counter towards you.

satoru relaxes, watching you ask megumi something, but only slightly.

and after a second you turn your head, raising a brow at him.

the little brat.

satoru just smiles--offering you more than some shotty barista ever could--and leans back in his chair.

“why are you being so weird today?”

satoru’s chin is on your head, and even though you can’t see his smile, it falters, just a little bit. "don't know what you're talking about."

"you're sticky."

"i just showered."

"okay," you say, turning and rolling your eyes at satoru's pout. instantly his hands go to your waist, keeping you right there with him. "first of all, no you didn't. and i didn't mean literally. you're... clingy. more clingy than usual."

"i can't want to be around you?"

you give him a blank stare. "not when you're being weird about it."

"how am i being weird?"

"how aren't you?"

satoru grins, leaning his head down to push his nose into your cheek. you smell like something sweet--something he'd devour in an instant--but he's not sure what. he doesn't even care. he doesn't answer that question, only hums into your skin.

"see what i mean?"

"it's not my fault that you're comfy."

"oh, im so sorry," you say, fake pity in your voice. "let me just turn myself into stone real quick."

satoru rolls his eyes, pulling back just so he can see the amused look on your face--yeah, he knows that you don't actually care. but the more he hangs onto you, the more affection he shows, the warier you get.

and that's perfectly fine with him, actually. as long as you don't push him away.

"please do," he says, so genuinely. "it would make this a lot easier."

"make what a lot easier?" you ask, voice a bit softer. maybe it's because he's looking at you now, actually looking.

and satoru knows, really knows, that there's not a single other person in the world who you look at like this. there's not another man that you'd let sniff you, no other man that would dare to irritate you the way that he loves to.

satoru's worked several years to get you to be this comfortable, this easy around him. and even if there was someone else--he wouldn't give you up without a fight.

you're his in a way that transcends labels or reality.

still, he doesn't answer that question (because you already know). he only smiles a bit more, leans in, and basks in the way your lips mold to his immediately.

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breannasfluff · 2 months ago

Text

Running the flower store is a nice break. Danny’s got to do a bit more math than expected–no, Mr. Lancer, that doesn’t mean percentages were useful–but Harleen didn’t lie about the job. He sells the odd book, waters the plants, and moves the bouquets in and out of the flower fridge.

On the second day, someone comes whirling into the shop, slamming the door behind him.

“Hi, can I help you?” Danny has on his best customer service face.

The guy spins around and does a double-take like he wasn’t expecting to see Danny. “Who are you?”

“I work here. Are you looking for a book or flowers?”

The guy has dark hair, almost black with a hint of brown in the sun and blue eyes. He’s bulky enough that he likely works out. Laugh lines are starting at the corner of his eyes. “Where’s Harleen?”

“She’s on vacation for a few days. I’m watching the store for her in her absence.” Danny can’t help but tense, keeping a sharp eye on the stranger. What if he intends to rob the store? Danny’s got his taser, but that won’t help from behind a counter. Subtly, he reaches for intangibility, keeping it ready on a moment’s notice. He’s not about to get shot–again.

“I’m Dick,” the guy says. “Sorry about the interrogation. It’s just…Harleen never takes a vacation. She must trust you to watch the shop.”

Danny shrugs because he really has no connection with the girl. “It’s just a job. Can I help you with anything else?” He’d really prefer Dick finish his maybe-or-maybe not legitimate business and leave.

“Right!” Dick swings back to look at the rest of the store. “I am going to see my friend later, it can’t hurt to bring some flowers. Got a suggestion?”

Normally, Danny would join the customers as they look at flowers, offering what suggestions he can. Now, he stays firmly behind the till. “The daisies are a nice pop of color. We have a few bouquets of dry flowers if you want something that lasts longer.”

Dick hums and considers the flowers. “Maybe the daisies.”

Danny rings him up, still keeping an eye on Dick. “I’ll let Harleen know you dropped by looking for her.”

“I’d appreciate it. Do you know when she’ll be back?”

He does, but there’s no way he’s telling. Who knows why Dick wants to know–if that’s even his name? “She’ll be back soon.” He defaults to his blandest smile.

Dick wilts slightly under it, pulling the daisies toward him. “Okay, thanks. See you later.”

Not if Danny can help it. Maybe he should stay late tonight, just to make sure the guy doesn’t come back and try to break in. Explaining how he fended off a burglary might be a little difficult, but Harleen doesn’t deserve to have her shop trashed. And if she’s a friend of Pam’s, then she can be an acquaintance–friend?–of Danny’s.

Harleen laughs so hard she’s wheezing when Danny warns her about “Dick” and his off-vibes.

“I’m guessing you know him,” he says, giving her a scowl. He’s been practicing his scowls. Batman’s famous for them.

“Do I ever!” Harleen cackles, half lying across her counter. Finally, she hauls herself up with a grin. “No wonder Pam likes you.”

“Couldn’t let this place get robbed.”

“You did good, Dan, don’t worry. I appreciate you watchin out for the store.” She glances around at the plants and books with a soft smile. “This place is my baby. It’s nice to just have a…normal job. I’m laughin because Dicky is probably the most harmless person to come into this store and you clocked him as a robber.”

Danny sniffs and looks away. He’s learned to listen to his instincts and his instincts said that guy was Trouble with a capital T. Maybe it’s the kind of trouble Harleen likes, but he’s not about to get mixed up in it.

Read the rest here!

#What Binds Us #dpxdc #dp x dc #dc x dp #dcxdp #poison ivy #dick grayson #richard grayson #danny phantom #danny fenton #harleen quinzel #harley quinn #batman #dcu #breannasfluff #my writing

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jamminvroomvroom · 9 months ago

Text

ruined.

LN x fem!reader - 4k celebration

based on this request!

in which, why wouldn’t they fall in love?

back with another celebration request! thank u anon, love this one sm! so tempted to make something longer form outta this one omg... lemme know what you think of this, hugs hugs hugs

i had to reupload this! sorry if you already interacted :(

songs to set the mood: let’s fall in love for the night by finneas, you are in love by taylor swift, sofia by clairo, till forever falls apart by ashe and finneas

warnings: 18+!! minors go away dni!! smut, fluff, swearing, alcohol consumption, voyeurism? kinda? friends to lovers, mutual pining

3.4k words

“i bring gifts!” you call out, throwing the keys on the side. you shuffle your feet against the doormat, awkwardly balancing the bottle of wine you hold in one hand and the box of pizza in the other. it doesn’t help that you feel like the michelin man, bundled up in a jacket and a scarf. you kick off your boots, leaving them haphazardly in the hallway.

“in the kitchen.” lando shouts back, and you trudge towards the sound of his voice, sliding around in your fluffy socks.

“i hate all of those stupid little cars that everyone in monaco seems to drive.” you tut, sliding the pizza box across the counter, the bottle of wine clinking against the granite.

“even my jolly?” lando pouts. he’s waiting with two wine glasses, even though you’ll drink most of the merlot while he scrunches his nose up in distaste, but this is routine, standard procedure.

“i do miss the jolly, to be fair.” you give him that much, grinning playfully.

five minutes later, your coat and scarf are long forgotten, slung over one of the high chairs that line his breakfast bar. you’re in the living room, sprawled on one end of the couch, him on the other. your feet rest in his lap and the pizza box rests across your knees. some series you’ve been trying to watch for weeks is playing on netflix, but you aren’t really paying much attention.

“so, you’re telling me,” you pause to take another bite of pizza, swallowing between giggles, “you’re telling me that you heard oscar through the wall?” you choke.

“yeah, i’m telling you! little oscar is definitely not… little, from what i heard.” he cackles. “and then afterwards, bless them, they were all dishevelled and he would not make eye contact with me.” lando explains, both of you a mess of giggles.

“oscar piastri, what a minx.” you shake your head in disbelief.

“as if that’s what i needed, by the way! the dry spell was not helped by whatever him and lily were getting at.”

“dry spell? you? don’t lie to me, norris.” you kick him gently.

“what? i’m serious! start of the season has been so busy, haven’t had time to… get busy.” he wiggles his eyebrows and you roll your eyes.

“welcome to my world, you prick.” you tease, kicking him again. you catch his ribs as you do, knowing full well you’ve hit the prime tickle spot.

“what’s your excuse?”

“excuse you, i’m a busy gal! we can’t all be famous jet-setting f1 drivers.” you feign offence, and he grins toothily.

“i meant,” he starts, speaking slowly as if you’re stupid, and for a third time, you kick him, a tad harder than the last two times. “you’re a catch, how are you not getting laid?”

you pray he can’t see the way you’ve gone pink.

truthfully, he’s the damn reason. how can any man live up to the one and only lando norris? how can anyone compare to your best friend? world famous, beautiful, down right hilarious, beautiful!

lando’s the guy that picks up the pieces every time some loser breaks your heart. he’s the guy who’s key you keep on your overflowing keychain, the guy who buys duplicates of the skincare products you use, so you can keep them at his place - you still laugh every time you remember the first time he tried to pronounce salicylic acid. he’s basically your guy, but after 10 years of friendship, you’re not willing to tell him that.

“just… not.” you shrug, tucking your hair behind your ear. he hums in response, sounds like he doesn’t believe you, but he drops it.

you sink three glasses of red, the pizza box is on the floor, and your eyes are drooping, heavy.

“bedtime for you, methinks.” lando whispers, gently shifting your feet from his lap. you frown, missing his touch already. you make grabby hands at him, too comfy to move on your own. “want me to carry you?” you nod lazily, a smile stretching across your face.

he slides one hand under your legs, the other under your back, and hoists you up. he holds you close to his chest, your head resting against his heart, so close that you can hear the soft thrum that keeps him warm.

“thank you.” you murmur as he places you softly on your- his guest bed.

“anytime, honey.” he smiles down at you. he thinks you’re so pretty like this, so sleepy and cosy. he fights the demons that tell him to crawl into the empty space beside you. “there’s some water here, sleep well, love.” he walks away, reaching the door when:

“love you.” you coo. he shivers. you always say it, and he always says it back, but lately, it pains him.

“yeah. love you too.”

lando pulls the door to quietly, leaning against the wood for a moment trying to compose himself.

it’s been an hour, and you’re sobered up, wide awake in the dark.

you try to fall asleep, really, you do, but your mind is moving a thousands miles an hour, and all you can think about is his dry spell. your dry spell.

how can you sleep when you know he’s on the other side of the wall, as needy as you are for a warm body. you also know that you’ve soaked through your underwear. you’re wildly uncomfortable, restless, desperate for a sweet release, whether that be of sleep, or something else.

you can’t ask him, it would be a step too far, despite how torturously close you already are. so instead, you drive yourself insane with the thought of him; the image of him, head thrown back, slick and sweaty, cock hard in his hand.

what’s the harm in helping yourself out?

you’re throbbing, hot all over. you lose the war with yourself and your hand trails shamelessly down your body. you’re so sensitive that you’re instantly stifling moans, hand slapped over your mouth. you can’t get the earlier image out of your head, and you pray he’s on the other side of the wall thinking about you. you’re desperate, bucking your hips into your hand, aching for a release. you wish your hands were lando’s, big and rough, toying with every quivering part of you.

you have an idea, a twisted one, the kind that almost sends you over the edge. what would happen if you let yourself be as loud as you wanted, if you tore your hand away and cried out like you wanted to? every shred of rationality leaves your needy body.

you’re whining, clear as day. your resist calling out his name as your high builds, tweaking your clit between your fingers. you’re so dangerously close, hovering right on the edge. that’s when you hear it.

on the other side of the wall, your vision of lando has become a reality. your faint whines through the wall have him rock hard, fucking his own hand. he wishes it could be yours, and with the way you’re crying out, he doesn’t think you’d oblige to sitting on his lap, wet and pretty, and letting him sink his cock nice and deep.

but he can’t cross that line. not with you. it doesn’t matter how badly he wants you, how he’d go to the ends of the earth for you. one night wasn’t worth ten years of friendship, washed down the drain.

his hand speeds up, his head thrown back, at the same time as you slip two fingers inside of yourself. you fingers curl, hitting deep when you hear a throaty groan sounding from the other side of the wall.

you’d think a millionaire would have thicker walls.

he hears the exact moment you cum, a noticeable change in your sounds. they’ve gone up an octave, breathless, and before he can even register, he’s spurting thick white ribbons that land hotly on his skin.

you clean yourselves up, rooms apart but the same exact things running through your minds.

i just got off to the sound of my best friend.

you nibble the crusts of your toast. the kitchen is quiet, painfully so, and the air is still.

lando has his back to you, making you another cup of coffee. he’s forgone a shirt and you try your absolute best to ignore the warm glow of his skin. he looks radiant. you know why; orgasms can do that.

“lando-“

“we don’t need to talk about it, honey.”

“um, i was just gonna tell you that you’re burning your toast.” you snicker.

“oh, fuck.” he slides along the floor to the toaster, burning his fingers on blackened bread.

when he turns to you, he’s tinged red, grinning bashfully.

“moving on.”

“i need to get home but dinner later? i won’t stay the night.” you wink. you crave the normalcy that once was, the light, teasing nature of your friendship.

“i’ll cook.” he’s still blushing.

“ooh, on second thought.” you suck air through your teeth, pulling a face.

“get outta here.” he sticks his tongue out at you.

dinner was… well, it was edible.

he made spaghetti and some kind of sauce, one that you couldn’t quite work out the contents of but it was good enough.

“thanks, lan.” you smile softly, helping him clear the few plates off the table.

“anytime, honey.” he replies.

you’re standing at the sink, placing the cutlery down when you feel him behind you. you spin around, instantly regretting it, because you’re caged in. he’s leaning up to reach into a cupboard, frozen. so, so close. his panicked breath fans your face and you can feel the heat of his body.

you lean in, because why wouldn’t you? and so does he, so, so close. your hand that rests on the edge of the sinks moves so that you can reach out and cup his disgustingly perfect face but then-

a knife that had been hovering between the counter and plunging into the soapy hot water gets nudged over the edge by your clumsy hand and clatters against into the bowl.

the irritating noise springs you both back to reality and he jumps away like an orange cat. you grimace at the awkward tension, and he scratches the back of his neck. and then you’re laughing, hard, and of course he joins in because this situation is utterly ridiculous and your laugh is so beautifully contagious.

“oh my god, what is wrong with us?” you wheeze through the laughter, leaning back against the counter.

“last night was… insane. and now everything feels weird so, let’s just go back to basics.” lando smiles gracefully. you nod.

“that sounds absolutely perfect.”

“netflix?”

“and chill?” you chime in sarcastically. he glares at you. “couldn’t help it.” you hold your hands up in faux surrender.

you don’t know when you fall asleep, but you conk out, head lulling against his shoulder when you do.

he haunts your dreams, fingers thick between your thighs while you whimper his name. you must be out of it, so deep in your slumber that it takes lando a good few coos of your name to draw you out of it.

when your eyes shoot open, he’s looking down at you, a single curl falling over his forehead, taunting you.

“you dreaming of me?” he grins, something in his eyes that snaps you out of your grogginess.

“wh-why?” you splutter, sitting up. he’s still so close to you, coy smile pulling at the corners of his pink lips,

“kept making these little sounds, panting my name. got me thinking.”

“about what?” you whisper.

“how much i wanted to pin you to that bed last night and make you cry for me.”

“is this gonna ruin us?” your voice trembles with a unique blend of fear and anticipation.

“after last night? baby, we’re already ruined.”

his lips meet yours, tentative for just a brief second, and then it’s passionate, warm, lightning. his hands are firm on your body, pulling you impossibly closer until there’s no other option but to clamber into his lap. your hands find his hair, tugging wildly until his curls are a disheveled mess, pulled every which way.

“you’re so beautiful. want to tell you all the time but-“ lando mumbles into your mouth, urgent and hushed.

“but friends don’t do that.” you cut him off.

he pulls away from you, his nose bumping yours. his eyes are so blue today, sparkly.

“i think we’re more than that.” he mutters, lips brushing yours. “i think we have been for a while.”

“yeah.” you pant. “yeah we have. yeah.” your eyes dart between his and his kiss swollen lips.

and then you’re licking into his mouth, sighing at the relief. he paws at your waist, warm hands sliding under your jumper, gliding over your hips and up, up, up, until he’s dragging the material over you head and tossing it carelessly to the side. he kisses over your collarbone, licking and nipping while his hands smooth over your bra. he plucks at the fasten, and you relax as it snaps open, and the straps slide over your shoulders.

“is this okay, angel?” he whispers.

“perfect.”

his thumbs trace over the curve of your breasts, teasing your nipples gently, enough to send shockwaves through your body. you’re subconsciously grinding down on him, dragging your hips over his crotch, mouth dropping open when you hear the way his breath catches in his throat.

“driving me insane, honey.” he gulps, rolling your nipples between his fingers. “need to get inside of you.”

“hurry up then.” you sound desperate to your ears, delicious to his.

“do you know how hard it was to stay in my room last night? when i could hear you making those pretty little noises? you’re so bad.” he tuts, lifting you off of his lap and laying you back against the couch.

nimble fingers undo your jeans and you jolt as he slides them down your thighs, intimate touches on intimate skin. you lace your fingers through his hair, pulling him down to kiss you, and you moan into his open mouth when his fingers trail beneath your underwear.

lando dips his fingers between your folds, groaning as soon as he feels where your wetness has pooled in your panties. you’re intoxicating, he thinks, and he’s starving for you. he pries his hand from between your legs, lapping at his soaked digits. his eyes fall shut, eyelashes fluttering over his cheeks.

your taste sparks something within him, and he wriggles onto his belly, resting in between your thighs. he toys with your panties, just for a second, and he can’t help but latch on. he laves his tongue over the growing wet patch, eyes fluttering shut. he drags your underwear to the side, lapping over your cunt messily.

“taste so good.” he slurs into your pussy, depraved and ravenous. you buck your hips, the sensation of his words sending rumbles of vibrations to every one of your nerve endings.

you writhe against the plush couch, sinking deeper between the cushions as he fucks his tongue deeper and deeper, burrowing his face as far between your thighs as he can go.

“lando, ‘m so close.” you gasp, tugging hard at his curls, taking your nails across his scalp. he whimpers, whimpers, at the sensation and that’s enough to finish you off.

he keeps going, kitten licking you through your orgasm and you pant, nothing but white behind your squeezed shut eyes. you have you drag him away, overstimulated and twitching against the silvery grey fabric of the sofa.

“fuck.” you laugh, breathless.

“good?” he smirks.

“shut up and come here.” you make grabby hands at him, and he clambers over you, smiling wide, his lips coated shiny and red.

“you’re pretty.” he coos, licking his lips clean.

“so are you.” you whisper.

he collapses on top of you, urgently slotting his lips over yours. he slides his hands all over your frame, memorising every dip and curve, while your hands find the waistband of his joggers. you push the material down his hips gently tracing his hip bone; he shudders at the graze, kicking the fabric away and wrapping his hand around his cock.

you glance down, taking in the sight before you. he’s thick in his own hand, red and slick already, as he runs his hand over himself.

“you want me?” he manages to ask through gritted teeth.

“please.” you whine, reaching to replace his hand, but he bats you away.

“patience, baby. wanted you like this for so long, you can wait a few seconds.” he scolds, condescendingly.

you don’t get a chance to talk back, because he’s sliding inside of you, nice and slow. your eyes roll back at the delectable stretch, he’s bigger than you’ve had in a while, and you hum lowly. he kisses over your throat and you can hear his shaky breath fanning your ear. you’re fluttering around him, adjusting to him with small circles of your hips.

“do something.” you beg, hushed and breathless.

“you think you can take it?” lando taunts, but you can hear the way his voice waivers as your walls spasm around him.

“can you?” you whisper, giving as good as you get. something inside of him snaps and pride kicks in, because before you can even truly gloat, he’s barrelling into you.

you cling onto his shoulders greedily, digging your fingertips in to whatever part of him you can get hold of. he thrusts so deep, all the way in, before dragging fully out, leaving you aching for him to fill you up again. he’s going quick enough that you can’t really complain, but slow enough to tease, to drive you insane beneath him. it feels too good to hurry him up, he knows what he’s doing and you want to take it, feel him like this. you’re quivering, his cock hitting every single spot that makes you tick and you think you can die happy now that you’ve had him.

“i’m so close.” you warn, overstimulated from your first orgasm. he ups his pace, just enough to send you spiralling, and you can’t keep your eyes open as you let go, your legs kicking out.

it’s too much when you open your eyes and find him staring down at you, sleepy and sweaty. he’s gorgeous like this, pupils blown, bronze skin glistening in the low light. he feels the way you throb around him, still buried so deep.

“not done with you yet, angel. c’mere.” lando sits back, pulling your limp body along with him until your right back where you started, sprawled over his lap.

he’s so close to his own release, pained and restless, and you can feel the head rubbing against your clit. even in your state of pure exhaustion, you can’t help but grind down against him, and he lifts your hips enough for you to sink down on him.

your sounds of pleasure ricochet off of one another’s, animalistic contentment spilling from between two sets of equally swollen lips. you’re so full like this, rocking tiredly, backwards and forwards.

“just like that, baby. just like that.” he’s breathing heavily, brows furrowed. his head tips back, neck thick and flexed, and you’re thrown back into the deep end of your fantasy.

“oh my god.” you choke, tears of satisfaction building. “lando!” you cry, meeting his shallow thrusts. he’s guiding your hips up and down, just enough to hammer against that special spot that makes you whine his name.

“cum for me, baby, last one. know you can do it pretty girl.” the praise knocks the last bits of air out of you and you collapse forwards into his arms. he holds you tight, groaning sweet nothings and your name like a prayer, right in your ear.

“you’re definitely staying tonight.” lando laughs softly, coming down. you think back to your earlier refusal, grinning lazily.

“guest room?” you joke, kissing his shoulder.

he pulls you back so that he can look at you, cupping your face.

“you’re never staying in that room ever again.”

he kisses you, then. soft. warm. home.

it’s natural, everything you’ve been missing, and somehow the only thing you’ve been missing in your relationship with him. he already gave you everything you could ever need, tonight was the cherry on top.

“are we gonna be okay?” you whisper, so quiet that you can barely hear yourself. fear pools in your belly.

“i hope so. ‘cause i’m never letting you go now.”

i feel so warm inside hehe

taglist

@thegirlinthefandoms @mcmuppet @japanesekel @vinvantae @ggaslyp1 @dr3lover @smiithys @rachstash @infinitebells @fizzpopsnap101 @gaily19 @icecoldtires @mysticalnightenthusiast @thatchickwiththecamera @oyesmendes @disneydaydreameralways @canyouseethesainz @ferrarifwendvale @fcbformulaeri @tony-stank3 @maih23 @soleilgrec @carolineworld @anthonykatebridgerton @allywthsr @iamasimpingh0e @ophcelia @lovelynikol16 @coffeehurricanes @jennx03 @blueflorals @lqvesoph @sidcrosbyspuck @better-dead-than-smeg @buendiabebeta @pjofics @kovalcin @wintergilmore3 @for-writing-shit @youdontknowmeshh @im-an-overthinker @jule239 @darleneslane @jazzy722 @weasleyswizarding-wheezes @therealone4r @pleasecallmeunhinged @theonlyadrienne @spideylovin @charli123456789 @ln4norizz @formulaal

lemme know if you wanna be added or removed :)

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blackknight-kai · 2 months ago

Text

Nobody asked for this one but it came to me so I’m gonna share. It’ll be my last post for the day since I’ve kinda bombarded you guys all day LOL! Sorry not sorry….

You lose a bet with Bajie and have to kiss Wukong/DO on the mouth. The pig man KNOWS of your feelings for the monkey, while Wukong/DO is oblivious to it.

And so, you stalk over to the handsome monkey, your cheeks absolutely on fire. He’s distracted so he doesnt know what’s coming to him. As you approach though and call out to him he innocently turns his face towards you and that’s when you act, wanting to get this embarrassing thing over with.

Quickly before he has a chance to do anything about it you put your hand on his cheek, noting in the back of your mind how soft and warm his fur and skin is. Your heart is so damn loud in your ears as it tries to hammer its way out of your chest. With every ounce of courage you have you squeeze your eyes shut and press your lips against his for just a blissful moment before tearing yourself away and very, very speedily make your exit.

Bajie bellows out a loud thoroughly amused cackle at your plight and you rudely flip him off as you stomp away and out of sight through the trees making your way to a nearby stream, hoping that splashing your scalding face with cold water will help calm you down. You feel like you could just DIE. On one hand, you’d gotten to kiss HIM. On the other, now you’ll have to try to explain WHY that happened when he inevitably asks and try not to spill your guts regarding your apparently not so well hidden feelings.

Destined One:

- [ ] Does not understand what the hell just happened

- [ ] He is frozen solid in place, his usual determined frown going slightly slack as his mouth hangs open just a little.

- [ ] His heart starts stuttering and he takes a sudden shocked breath not realizing that he’d literally stopped breathing

- [ ] Slowly, still staring at the trees you had disappeared behind, he raises a claw tipped hand and brushes his fingers against his lips. It tingles strangely and he feels weirdly twitchy

- [ ] His brown furrows deeply as the sounds of the forest and Bajie’s deep laughs start to register to him

- [ ] With flaring nostrils he finally moves, stalking with purpose after you, not knowing exactly WHY but that he NEEDS to. the pigs laughter echoing loudly starts to fade as he uses his heightened senses to locate you

- [ ] His heart is still racing, as though he’s in a particularly harrowing fight, when he finds you crouched down by a stream splashing water on your face

- [ ] Not stopping, feeling determined but not sure why, he clenches his fists and makes his way over to you with stiff shoulders and a flicking tail

- [ ] Hearing his loud footsteps on the grass you turn, your eyes wide and your cheeks pink

- [ ] Seeing that expression on your face makes his fur ripple and he barrels right up to you as you stand and take a step back from him putting your hands up

- [ ] His chest hits your hands and you give him a strangely vulnerable look opening your mouth as though youre going to explain yourself

- [ ] He doesnt let you.

- [ ] Pursing his lips he gently reaches up, pressing his chest heavily against your palms and wrapping his tail around your waist securely, his hand cups your cheek

- [ ] His hold is gentle but firm and he shuts his eyes as he leans in and puts his mouth against yours

You:

- [ ] You’re confused, nervous, and kinda freaking out as he suddenly gets into your space

- [ ] It all moves so quickly that you don’t have time to react as his strong chest presses against your hands and his tail anchors itself around your waist pulling you into him as his claw tipped hand gently angles your face

- [ ] You suck in a surprised breath as his mouth is pressed firmly against yours for a moment, your heart racing and your eyes wide

- [ ] His lips dont move, in fact the touch is kinda strange as he just holds his face against yours and as he pulls back you blink at him completely stunned and speechless

- [ ] His brow has a deep furrow to it and he seems to contemplate something before he pulls your face against his again and you squeak as he does this very quickly several times

- [ ] As he pulls back one more time, you hear a frustrated and pained monkey sound coming the back of his throat, its almost like a whine, his expression that of confusion and frustration you realize very quickly that he just simply doesn’t know what to do

- [ ] Swallowing thickly, you try your best to calm your heart and find your voice. “D-did you want me to show you?” You whisper in the small space between your faces

- [ ] He slowly jerks his head in a nod and looks at you imploringly

- [ ] taking a shuddering breath you slowly slide your hand up from his chest, he seems to shiver as your fingers glide across the skin on his neck and he tentatively leans into your touch as you cup his cheek. His eyes wide, curious, and searching.

- [ ] You pull gently and he leans down towards you again and this time when your lips touch you can help but smile just a little at how stiff he is

- [ ] “Do as I do” you tell him lowly as you pull back only a hair before kissing him again, this time you gently put pressure on his lips with yours, moving just a little

- [ ] It takes him a second but then he tentatively copies you with a sigh through his nose and a pleased monkey noise rumbles in his chest

- [ ] You both take a few moments just testing the waters, him following your guidance and slowly gaining confidence with his lips

- [ ] You know you’ll have to explain yourself soon, but for now, you enjoy the slow exploring kisses and his gentle hold keeping you pressed tightly to him

Sun Wukong:

- [ ] As soon as your lips touch his, Wukongs body does its best impression of turning into a statue, living up to the name “Stone Monkey”

- [ ] Everything stop for him

- [ ] He only vaguely notices your lips leaving his and your touch being gone

- [ ] No sound or smell reaches him. His sight doesnt register and all he can do is stand there for a moment as his body tries to understand the unfamiliar sensation he’d just experienced

- [ ] His lips twitch first and then a high pitched, curious, and surprised little monkey sound leaves his throat as everything comes crashing into him all at once

- [ ] His tail is still frozen in place slightly curled at the end. The furry tip of the appendage starts to wiggle though as his senses return to him

- [ ] Bajie’s cackling being the first thing he hears and the trees you’d scurried off behind being the first thing he sees.

- [ ] His lips tingle and his heart hurts with how hard and fast it’s pounding in his chest

- [ ] Another instinctive monkey sound leaves his throat and he licks his lips flaring his nostrils at the faint taste of the pear youd eaten just a bit ago

- [ ] Bajie, hearing Wukongs little primal vocalizations laughs harder and falls backwards off the log he was sitting on

- [ ] Wukong ignores him in favor of latching on to the rising instinctual feeling in his gut, needing to give chase to you

- [ ] He tightens his body and in an instant hes off, the dirt where he had been standing is displaced with the force of his movement. The leaves on the ground fly up as he disappears and bushes and trees sway dramatically as he rockets himself through the forest towards you

- [ ] Seeing you crouched by the stream he stops only half a step from you and you jump to your feet in fright at his sudden presence

- [ ] Any other time he might have found that amusing

- [ ] Instead he reaches out to you with both hands, a needy instinctual monkey sound ripping from his throat, cupping your cheeks and his claws gently grazing the back of your head as he pulls you up and dives down to meet you in a fiery kiss

You:

- [ ] You dont have time to even breathe as his strong calluses hands grip your face and yank you up towards him

- [ ] His lips slam into yours causing you to gasp and fall into him with your hands against his chest as he practically starts to devour your mouth

- [ ] It’s completely uncoordinated and messy, as though he’s impatient and inexperienced

- [ ] His claws grazing the back of your head and neck make you shiver and you try to keep up with his passionate kiss

- [ ] You both are breathing heavily through your noses and you have to turn your head with all your strength to dislodge his lips from yours

- [ ] He thankfully allows it and pulls back only a breath away to look into your eyes, something desperate and vulnerable in them

- [ ] After a moment he tries to dive back in but you stop him by putting your the tips of your fingers softly over his mouth

- [ ] He frowns obviously pouting at you and you huff a breathless laugh

- [ ] “Slow down a little,” you say with a racing pulse and excitement running through you

- [ ] Wukong makes a little frustrated grunt but you lean up and softly kiss his lips once and then pull back “Like that,” you say

- [ ] He squints at you before giving a short, sharp nod, and you laugh to yourself as he dives right back in for another kiss

- [ ] He’s still impatient. Still too quick and messy but he moves slower and as you guide him he learns to follow your movements - of course with his own over confident spin on it.

- [ ] You cant complain though, not even as he licks sloppily into your mouth and pulls you tightly against his warm sturdy body, his tail wrapping tightly around your thigh just under your ass cheek.

- [ ] You kissed the Monkey King and he came back for more

#black myth wukong #sun wukong x reader #black myth wukong x reader #destined one x reader #bk kai writes #I was thinking about this while taking a nap today #Monkey on the brain is real my god #The fact I have to limit myself for posts is kinda crazy LOL

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heart-eyed-love · 3 months ago

Text

Love is Embarrassing

Summary | You and Eddie embarrass yourselves in front of each other a lot, but that’s okay, it only seems to make your relationship stronger

Contains | Fem!Reader, Established Relationship, Embarrassing Moments, Cursing

Word Count | 1.8k

Currently, You, Eddie, Jeff, Gareth, and Grant, all stand outside the fence surrounding one of the abandoned houses in Hawkins. It’s not a very tall one, but it did slightly ease you, putting distance between you and the sketchy house.

“Do you guys really think this is a smart idea?” Jeff asks, looking over to you and the boys.

“No, actually. I think this is really fucking stupid.” You answer in return, agreeing with Jeff on the fact that this wasn’t the one of the smartest ideas your boyfriend has had. You’re not entirely sure what good could come from this.

“It’ll be fine… It’ll be fun.” Eddie reassured you, lightly putting his hand on your shoulder and giving it an affectionate rub. You only side eye him.

Grant is already making his way closer to the fence when he asks, “Who’s going first?” And when no one answers you narrow your eyes at your boyfriend.

“Wasn’t this your idea?” You ask

He rolls his eyes, “Fine, whatever…” He approaches the fence. And in an attempt to impress, he begins climbing over the fence with ease. Trying to be all slick and suave about it, he’s about to jump off the fence, and be successfully on the other side. But once he does, his jeans catch on the fence… and they rip.

And you cringe once he’s back on the ground, having unfortunately ripped his go-to jeans. His face falls immediately when he notices, but the boys behind you are giggling.

“Dude…” Is all Jeff mutters out between giggles, but Gareth has always been one to make it worse.

“Are those Bats?!” He’s now cackling at his boxers, and even though Eddie's glare would usually make him shut up, the fence between them has made him brave.

“Shut up.” he doesn’t dare look at you yet, cheeks aflame. It’s nothing you haven’t seen before, so you’re not sure why he’s so flustered.

“Maybe it’s a sign.” You shrug your shoulders, looking over to your boyfriend, who’s now currently trying to get a better view of his ass, trying to make the rip less noticeable.

Without looking up at you he says, “We’re going in.” You roll your eyes and make sure way over to the fence. Climbing up carefully as to not be in the same predicament as Eddie. He holds his hands out for you, helping you get down safely.

“Let me see…” You say, now that you can get a better look, hand on his back to turn him so you can see. The other boys begin climbing over the fence as Eddie lets you examine the rip in his pants.

“Is it fixable?” He asks softly.

“Oh, Yeah. We’ll have these fixed right up…” You pat his shoulder, “But for now…” You place your hand on his ass right over the rip with a smirk, “This will have to do…”

Last night was the first night sleeping over at your boyfriend's house. It was a domestic night of bliss, dinner was eaten at the table together, skin care was done, and you both brushed your teeth as you looked at each other through the mirror with a smile.

It was perfect, and the night was concluded by snuggling into his side, head resting on his chest as you both passed out, faster than you ever had. It felt right.

But the next morning was a different story.

You were woken by a soft shake to your shoulder, with eyes scrunched almost closed, you lifted your head from Eddie's chest and felt a stickiness on your cheek. Cracking your eyes a bit more open you’re able to see a wet patch on his shirt. You now know what the stickiness was as you violently tried to wipe the embarrassment off your cheek, then the same to the patch of drool on his chest.

“Shit, I’m so sorry…” You grumble, and Edide can’t help but smile at the pleasant sound of your morning voice.

“No, don’t worry about it, I just was wondering if you were hungry? I thought I could go get some breakfast…?”

“Yeah, that sounds nice…” You say softly, cheeks a little flushed.

“K, let’s go get dressed and brush our teeth and get rid of that morning breath.” He says with a smile, and your eyes go wide and to your mouth in an instant.

“Oh my god.” You whine out turning away from him, and he chuckles, following right behind. Pushing himself up against your back.

“Hey! Don’t be embarrassed, at least it’s not as bad as mine…” He says, lifting himself onto his elbow to get a better advantage on you as he begins blowing his breath into your face. You can’t help but giggle as you squirm away, cause yeah, at least it’s not as bad as that.

“Eddie, stop!” You now move your hand to cover your nose, a smile evident on your face now.

“Let’s go brush our rats' nests out and our morning breath away together, Baby…” He smiles cheekily as he takes your hand to pull you up with him, as he attempts to rake his other through your hair.

He then leans in to try and kiss you, and you pull away with a scrunch of your nose, “Is that really a good idea right now?” You tease.

“I can’t think of a better one.” Giving you the sloppiest kiss you had the honor of receiving.

You and Eddie had been in his bedroom when he acted upon his urges. He always thought it was so much fun to wrestle and play around with you, and he was happy to find out you had just as much fun.

But today, he took it to another level. An unfair level.

He had you pinned down on the bed, and he was tickling you relentlessly. And after having a pretty fulfilling dinner that wasn’t really going well with your stomach.

Giggling as you beg him to stop, losing your breath as he continues, the unfortunate happens. And a small fart escapes you.

You freeze under him, and he’s frozen too as he hovers over you. You can only imagine the shade of your face as Eddie stares down at you. He’s not even laughing, honestly that would feel better than the intense staring he seems to be doing right now.

Wanting to get out of this vulnerable and embarrassing position faster you sit up quickly and shove him off of you.

He’s falling onto his butt on the bed, with a slightly offended, “Hey!” And he’s pushing you back down so he’s on top of you again, moving down to kiss you fiercely.

He pulls away with a teasing smirk, “That was your first fart with me, Babe. Feel proud.”

You roll your eyes, but feel the blush rising to your cheeks again, and he’s leaning back down to kiss you again.

Tonight was special. Usually when Eddie invited you to his shows it consisted of his band playing covers of they’re favorite artists and bands. Lately, they’d been feeling bold enough to start playing some of Corroded Coffin's originals.

Those were your favorites.

But tonight Eddie wanted to do something special for you.

He had made the guys practice ‘Head Over Heals’, he knew it was your favorite. He hoped you’d think this was a romantic gesture, cause he’d never play such a song for anyone else.

He was putting his metalhead dignity on the line for you.

The guys had tried to tease him about it, but he was quick to remind them that he was the only one who actually has a girlfriend and that shut them up pretty quick.

That Tuesday as he saw you sat in the record breaking crowd of 10 drunks, he felt his nerves start getting the best of him. There was a small pit in his stomach at the thought of making a fool of himself.

And when he starts playing the song that has had him worked up since he started practicing it, his eyes find yours, widened and surprised. That doesn't help his nerves much as the first words he sings are slightly high and scratchy, and he cringes to himself slightly. Pulling himself together for most of the song, but unfortunately a few more voice cracks and off tone notes were sung.

After they had finished and went backstage, he plopped himself down on the rickety couch with a loud groan.

“That was totally shit man.” Gareth said as he made his way backstage too, earning a punch to the shoulder from Jeff, big eyes signaling him to shut up. But Eddie was feeling too distraught to give a single ounce of a shit about what Gareth thought.

“I think you sounded sweet…” Grant admits, trying to make him feel better.

“Yeah, don’t listen to Gareth, he’s a dipshit.” Jeff glares over at the boy.

Eddie, only wanting to be romantic for you, but who would swoon over a nervously high pitched, scratchy rendition of their favorite song?

He lets out a groan into his hands. “Eddie…?” A soft voice causes his head to snap up. There you stood, a sweet smile on your face, and he watched the other guy scramble out of the room as you approached the couch he was sitting on.

You sat yourself down next to him, so close, your bare thigh pressed to his denim clad one. “You sang my favorite song…?” At your words he looks over to you, and your eyes somehow are able to hold the most affection that's ever been directed to him. He knew you would never judge or make fun of him for something like that, but that doesn’t mean it wasn’t a humbling experience for him. “I thought you said you’d never stoop so low?” You smirk.

“Yeah well, look what that got me…” He scoffs and looks straight forward, and you can tell by his tone this might be a bit more serious.

“I thought it was great…”

“I sounded like an idiot.” He looks over to you.

“No, you didn’t. I thought you sounded sweet…”

“Sweet? I sounded tone deaf.”

“Well, we both know that you aren’t, I think you were just nervous, Eddie. But, just because it was a little pitchy doesn’t mean I didn’t think it was the best thing I’ve ever heard anyone sing.”

You’re smiling so sweetly at him, and he can’t help but chuckle, “Don’t be a suck up…”

“I’m not, like really, that was the sweetest and most romantic thing anyone’s ever done for me. I loved it… I Love you…” You admit, feeling your own rush of nerves. It was the first time either of you had said it, but it felt fitting. He was vulnerable for you, you can be vulnerable for him.

He stares at you for a second too long, and you look away nervously, “Sorry, that was weird.” You say, but he vigorously shakes his head.

“No! No, it’s not weird… I just didn’t expect that shitty performance to pull an ‘I Love you’ from you…” He chuckles again, “I Love you too…” And he’s leaning in now, kissing your lips softly.

#eddie munson #stranger things #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson oneshot #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson blurb #heart-eyed-love

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inupibaldspot · 11 months ago

Text

Sunglasses

Paring : Gojo Satoru x Reader

Note: My Blue Eyed King is indeed handsome without his glasses, it even makes you who is so oblivious realize your feelings for him.

“No Shoko.” Gojo’s face had as frown on his face as he stands near the alley way. Shoko really needed a smoke break but then the closest smoking zone was still a considerable distance away so here they were, in an alleyway Shoko smoking with Gojo as company. “I think I have been very obvious by now.”

“No shit, I think even Yaga knows by now”Shoko let’s out a chuckle. “Buts it’s also funny how oblivious y/n is.”

Shoko smiles as Gojo’s face contours in a frown further. She remembers when Gojo took a sip from your drink followed by a wink and despite Shoko giving a snide remark of ‘Wow~ An indirect kiss!’, you were pouting saying Gojo was after your drinks and scrambled away, hiding behind Geto.

“Even yesterday, we were in Harajuku.” Gojo huffs as Shoko takes a final drag from her cigarette and crushes the item beneath her feet. “I won a pop-ring from the pachinko and put it in her ring finger; RING FINGER!”

The duo starts walking back to where you and Geto were sitting at, Gojo still yapping away recalling the recent incident. “You know what y/n did? That idiot pulled it from their finger, bit the candy from the handle, threw the ring handle away and said it was inconvenient to eat candy that way.”

“Well, Y/N doesn’t like having things around their fingers and wrist.” Shoko smiles as Gojo huffs in frustration. “Have you maybe tried confessing?”

Gojo looks as her as if she had grown two heads. “Why do you think I was ignoring them for 2 days last month?”

“Pfft… You sulked only for two days?”

“Yeah, they called me over to their room to play Mario kart.”

Shoko cackled thinking how Gojo really can’t ever be genuinely upset at you,ever but smiles as she sees Geto and you not too far away. You were standing behind Geto and your hands were combing through his hair, Geto sitting comfortably with his eyes closed,undoubtedly a bit drowsy. “Your love of your life is being taken away though.”

Gojo follows his friend’s line of sight and sees what’s was going on making him screech. “Geh!”

You were combing your hands through Geto’s hair. Geto who always had his bun high and tight in the morning would always start to slouch and become slightly messy towards the evening, so you being a good friend offered to help.

Geto denied it at first. Gojo would blow a fuse if he sees his crush so close to him. But on second thought, Gojo did eat the yogurt he had saved up so it was a good chance for a payback so he agrees.

“Suguru!” Gojo slides infront of him in great speed, a trail of dust behind him. “That’s breaking bro code!”

To which Geto just sticks his tongue out with a smug look on his face. You tilt your head in confusion. What’s Satoru going on about? You think as your hands still. “I’m fixing his hair,Satoru.”

“Let me help you then.” Gojo scoots your away gently, as he then takes over making Geto’s hair as his hands swiftly takes over. “Done!”

Geto stills frozen for a second as he sat with his hair in a twin tail, his bangs covering one side of his face as usual with a proud looking Gojo beside him. He looks stupid. This make you and Shoko burst out laughing.

A nerve pops from Geto’s forehead and he swiftly swings his fist.

*Smash!*

“Ah!”

That’s how you guys ended up in a glasses shop, after Geto swings his fist on Gojo his fist collided with his face which in turn breaks the Gojo’s sunglasses.

“How about this?” You stand on the ball of your feet as your outstretched your hand to put on a sunglass on Gojo.

Gojo stops breathing for a second on how close you were to him, the tip of his ears felt hot. You put him a heart shaped pink glass, stupid he know but when sees you slump back and giggle, he thinks it’s worth it.

Geto and Shoko looks away from the pair. We’ll give you two space. Shoko has whispered to him and they walk around the store keeping a distance.

“Yeah yeah.” Gojo sings and you still continue laughing; he brings his hands to the frame of the glasses and removes it. “I know I look handsome but let’s get serious.”

You nod at him, your face still had a dust of red due to laughing. “Fine I’ll pick out a good one.”

“Ah! Look at that guy~”

“The white hair one…He is so tall!”

“Kyaa~ He looks so dreamy.”

Gojo puffs his chest in pride. This wasn’t old news at all as he always knew he was a good looking guy. He may have actually missed this kind of attention since no one at Jujutsu High would react like that.

“Try this one.” Your stiff voice breaks him from his thoughts as you once again put him a glasses; another stupid one where the frame was shaped like a flower.

“Listen.” Gojo says. “Let’s pick a proper one.”

“Why?” His heart skips a beat as your lips turn into a pout, your eyes look at him as if you were a puppy. “You like the girls fawning over you?”

“Wha-“

Before Gojo could respond, you held the cuff of his shirt as you pull him towards Shoko and Geto.

“Ehh~ He had a girlfriend.”

“That’s boring.”

Gojo gulps loudly as he racks through his brain. No way? But then you- Damn I really don’t want to get too confident. He thinks as Gojo then opens his mouth.

“Hey? Don’t tell me you’re jealous?” He tries to keep his tone in his usual teasing one but there was a slight tremble at the end.

“I-“ You swiftly turn around, your eyes was nervously wandering as you try to look into his eyes, face increasingly red ; Gojo wished he could kiss you then and there. “I just- I guess I am.”

Gojo stills as he then breaks into a series of laughter. What the hell, all these time of him pinning on you, trying to make you realize the Gojo Satoru loves you and all it took was some random group of girls gushing over him?

“Fuck.” Gojo covers his huge grin on his face with his hands, and maybe the blush aswell as he then warps his hand around your waist and twirls you around . “You’re so fucking cute.”

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk #jjk x reader #gojo x reader #gojou satoru x reader #jujutsu kaisen imagine #jujutsu kaisen x reader #gojo imagines #gojo imagine #gojo satoru imagine #gojo x you #gojo fluff #gojo saturo

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ikinremu · 5 months ago

Note

I don’t know if your still doing story rqs or not but I would love a possessive!tommy shelby x innocent!reader.

idea: thomas saw a guy flirting with reader but was to innocent to know it, or notice it—reader does know about sex and other shit, just didn’t really understand it.

Hi anon! Tysm for requesting, hope you enjoy! Also, just to let everyone know that if you have requested, I will be working on it I’m just working through a lot of requests atm so bear with me!! <3

My Property

Tommy Shelby x Fem!Reader

! Smut Warning !

Tags: Innocence, Virgin!reader, Fingering, Unprotected sex, P in V, Multiple orgasms, Praise, Possessive/jealousy, Praise, Cream Pie

"What can I getcha, miss?" Came the low, hoarse voice of the bartender, burnt cigarette faltering in his mouth.

"An Old Fashioned, please." You smiled politely, shuffling a little atop the rickety old stood, resting your hands upon the bar's scuffed surface.

The man returned the smile, accompanied by a nod of understanding. His gaze seemed to linger on your face for a moment, fingers swiping the cigarette from between his lips. His eyes never once faltered from your own as his mouth puffed out a cloud of foggy smoke, and he stubbed it out on a nearby ashtray accordingly.

"Rough day?" He inquired, the broad span of his back facing you as he reached over the bar's vast array of contents, seizing whichever components he needed.

"Not particularly, no." You smiled.

"Just figured somethin' had to bring a beautiful woman like you 'ere." He spun to face you once more, laying all intent to the way he studied your expression. He leant forward quite the distance, pouring out your requested drink, gaze never leaving yours.

His words caught you rather off guard, making you stumble over your own slightly, "Oh- um, just fancied a drink, I suppose."

At that, he slid the glass into your open hands, "Here you are."

"Thank you." You gave a honey-like smile, raising the glass to your lips.

As you did so, the man turned once more, slotting the previously retrieved bottles back into their correct places. Glass clinked together, and one particularly large bottle slipped from the shelf, just barely saved from smashing by his splayed hands.

He let out an exhale of relief as he seized the bottle, assuring it remained firmly in place this time.

"That's not like me." He chuckled to himself, pivoting back round in your direction, "I'm usually good with my hands."

He followed the sentence with an obnoxiously bold wink, which you unknowingly ignored, allowing it to fly right by.

There was a moment of drawn out silence as you nodded politely in response, "Well I'd hope so in a job like this."

His brows creased ever so slightly, and he cleared his throat once more.

"Guess I must've been.. distracted." He accentuated the very last word, wetting his lips. You felt his eyes roam over your entirety, lingering over your chest specifically.

With a small nod, you indulged in another sip from your drink, brows furrowed slightly. You could feel his gaze trained upon your mouth as your lips met the top of the glass.

It only then became apparent that you ought to return to your table - you'd become entirely too caught up with polite conversation.

"I best get back." You smiled, hand cupping your beverage as you shuffled atop your barstool.

His disappointment was blatant, "Leavin' so soon?"

Your gaze spun back to the table you'd been at until only recently. John and Arthur were cackling about God knows what, and Tommy sat beside, smirking, although it appeared he was a little more focused on yourself than the accompaniment of his chortling brothers.

"Ah, I see." He observed, voice a low rumble as your swivelled back toward him, "They seem like they're coping." He chuckled, "Maybe I can convince you to ditch them for the night, hm?"

"No need for that." Tommy's voice cut through like a blade from behind you, making you jump out of your skin for a brief moment. He stepped close beside you, the scrutiny of his stare channelled upon nothing but the bartender.

An obvious, frustrated exhale escaped the man, "I think the lady can make up her own mind, don't you?"

From the very corner of your eye, you observed the tight tick of his jaw.

"Listen, darlin, if you want a good time you know where to find me." He bargained on.

Irritation painted Tommy's face - although you couldn't quite resolve the puzzle as to why he was so agitated by the man offering you company; he seemed nice enough.

He was practically glaring at the bartender by now, his eyes struggling to leave as he nodded in the loose direction away from the counter, signalling the pair of you should make your way back.

As you hopped off the rickety, wooden stool, your eyes travelled back and forth between the two men, "Uh, thank you for the company." You offered a sweet - more so polite - smile, followed shortly by yourself and Tommy heading back.

"I think we should leave." He spoke, monotone as ever, "Arthur and John will be fine."

It was as though he knew you'd ask of them.

It wasn't particularly late, however you didn't fancy bargaining and in all honesty, you had no problem with leaving early.

Tommy's hand planted suddenly upon the small of your back, guiding the pair of you to exit out into the cool evening air.

A chill whisked over your face as you walked, "I don't understand why you're so upset."

"I'm not upset." He exhaled as the both of you ambled into the familiar, locked door of the betting office.

"Well, judging by the way you're jamming that poor key into the lock, I'd say otherwise." You mumbled, stood uncomfortably beside him, watching as he forced the key over until the lock finally clicked, turning it and shoving the door open, "You looked like you wanted to throttle that bartender."

He let out a scoff, raising a brow a little as he turned to face you specifically, shutting the door the very moment you strode inside.

"I thought he seemed nice.." You uttered, accompanied by a genuine sense of confusion, "Friendly."

Tommy's eyes flickered across your face, from feature to feature; practically drinking you in, "You weren't gonna entertain the bastard, were you?"

You simply furrowed a brow, "What do you mean?"

He wet his lips, another blatant sigh escaping him, "Clearly thinks he was in with a chance, I don't want you doin' something you'll come to regret, eh?"

Somehow, his words were rather sudden to your ears, and it was a secret to no one that you were confused.

"He was gonna use you to get off, we both know you deserve more than that, don't you?" He leaned in a little as the words floated from his lips, the heat of his breath caressing your skin.

Your breath caught in your throat, hitching at the utter proximity of it all, and his hand found your waist suddenly. You were stunned, losing a single, soft gasp upon the feeling of the possessive squeeze he offered.

"Tell me you want this." His mouth mumbled, a mere inch from your ear.

An ambush of butterflies fluttered through your stomach, and you just couldn't deny his words, "..I want this."

"That's right, my fuckin' girl." Tommy grumbled, snaking a callous hand beneath your skirt, sliding slowly up your thigh, "Mine to touch, eh?"

A shiver coursed down your spine; intoxicated by the way he looked at you with such possession. Greedily, his fingers splayed over your thigh, inching nearer and nearer to the place you were most sensitive.

Your teeth sunk into the pillow of your bottom lip as one single, gentle finger brushed over your silken underwear.

"Acting so innocent, but you're fucking soaked." Tommy chuckled, beginning to trace subtle circles around your clit through the material, "Needy, eh?"

The way his fingers moved felt unbelievable, like nothing you'd ever experienced before. It was entirely new, and you didn't want it to end.

As though reacting to the unfamiliar sensations, your back hollowed an arch from the door, drenched cunt pressing against the motions of his hand, drawing a chuckle from his lips.

"Feels good, hm?" He taunted, lips curving into a prideful smirk as his digits crept beneath your underwear, hooking the silk hand and tugging it aside quickly.

A loud, breathy sound left your mouth as his fingertips came in contact with your bare, sensitive pussy.

"You want more, love?" He raised a brow, aware and deliberate of the question he knew the answer to, the strain of his own arousal increasing as he watched the way your face twisted in pleasure.

You nodded, "Mhm."

Tommy trailed his touch down your soaked cunt, pulling yet another gasp from your lips as he slipped one finger between your folds. You cursed under your breath, unable to resist as he slid a single, skilful finger inside you.

He watched your eyes flutter shut, overwhelmed and pouring heavy breaths. Your cunt twitched around him as he so slowly slipped another finger beside the first.

"That's it, fucking feel it, eh?" He whispered, voice low and raspy.

Easing in, Tommy began to move his grouped digits inside you, reaching a spot so sensitive it was made simply impossible to restrain your whine.

"Oh fuck.."

"Look at that sweet little cunt squeezing my fingers.." He breathed, "Mine."

Your arousal further soaked his hand as his fingers thrust at a tortuous pace, finally beginning to quicken, gaze focused solely on yours; the way in which you reacted.

The warm, though rough, pad of his thumb pressed itself to the swell of your clit, toying with the pressure as his digits moved faster, curling and pumping in and out in a way that had your chest heaving.

"Please.." You murmured. You weren't at all accustomed to this new feeling, rather like a knot building in your stomach.

"I know, love," Tommy encouraged, "You like the way my fingers fuck that tight little cunt, hm?" He smiled, only further fuelled by the sight of you losing composure at his touch, "Come for me."

His words snapped the tightly-wound knot in your stomach, and a wave of intense pleasure stormed your entirety - no trace of mercy.

Tommy's hand didn't halt, maintaining his pace as you came undone, guiding you through the release.

Your thighs trembled desperately around him, the feeling dying down, an air of euphoria about you.

Slipping his fingers from the heat of your pussy, he pressed his forehead against your own, eyes flickering and locking onto yours. Finally, his mouth connected with yours, lips soft and warm - enticing your body to the feel of his as he deepened the kiss. His hands gripped at your waist, stumbling back without shattering the embrace, the pair of you shuffling into the centre of the betting office.

The kiss grew hungrier by the second, his tongue gliding between your lips, he assisted you in perching atop his - usefully - wellkept desk. His hand snaked a path between your weakened thighs, parting them.

As you moved your mouth desperately against his, you felt the movements of his dark, certainly costly trousers being unclasped, followed immediately by the sound of fabric crumpling. He tore back from the kiss, breathing ever so heavily as he wrapped his fist tightly around his cock, throbbing against his palm.

"Going to let me ruin that sweet fucking cunt, aren't you?" He grumbled, to which you gave a delicate nod. "Ready?"

The subject of your gaze switched, roaming downward to the sight. Tommy's large, veiny hand grasping his erection. To say you couldn't quite process it would be a vast understatement.

"Yes." You nodded, fingertips digging firmly into the desk as he stood before you. He lined up the thick, pulsing head of his cock with your sopping entrance, one hand planted loosely to the small of your back.

With a low, hoarse sounding groan, he slid inside the warmth of your cunt. At a volume you hadn't yet reached, you gasped, adjusting to the feel of him inside you, a sharp moan rolling off your tongue.

"Fucking hell," He exhaled, "You feel incredible."

His cock twitched within you, your hands instinctively flying to the broad of his back for support. Tommy pulled his hips back, then forward, thrusting so very slowly into you as floods of soft whimpers fled your throat.

"You're mine, eh?" He groaned, controlling his hips at a divine pace, "And I take care of what belongs to me."

Clutching helplessly onto his waist-coat clad shoulders, your breaths grew shallower and far more frantic as he picked up the pace. The desk wavered beneath your bodies, suffering from the impact of the pair of you working with one and other.

"My property." He whispered, bare hips bucking hungrily against yours, as though a craving overcame him. "No one touches my property."

A shiver shot down your spine, pussy squeezing greedily at his length, his cock reaching perfectly deep.

"Fuck.." You practically heaved out, unable to prevent your whimpers as his tip struck repeatedly against your g-spot.

"That's it." Tommy praised, bright eyes rolling back for the span of one brief moment as he slammed his hips against yours, "You take my cock so well.."

Your cunt soaked his cock further as it stroked back and forth at a fulfilling pace, room swarmed with the sound of skin colliding and frantic breathing.

The thick, pulsing head of his cock struck repeatedly against your g-spot as his pace fell sloppier, clearly losing composure as you squeezed him.

"Fuck.." He grumbled, "So good."

Fingertips digging into his lower back, you felt Tommy tremor beneath your touch, his hips bucking with far less control. Once more, his fingers crept toward the heat of your pussy, pressing the perfect level of pressure to your clit.

A newly familiar sensation began to build in your stomach, bringing your teeth to bite down on your lower lip; overwhelmed by the combined feelings of Tommy’s thrusts working with his fingers to bring you closer to a second release.

“Shit,” He groaned, “Gonna fill up that sweet fuckin’ cunt, hm?”

“So good.. Please..” You practically babbled out, mouth falling open with a breathy moan.

Abruptly, the very same tidal wave of pleasure washed over your body, although far more intense this time. Your soaked, overstimulated cunt twitched around his deep, pulsing cock.

“That’s it.” He encouraged, jolting his hips at a divine pace as he fucked you through the release, feeling your nails push down against his waist-coat.

Eyelids fluttering over his eyes, Tommy slipped a raspy, broken groan. A spurt of warmth filled you suddenly, pooling within your drenched pussy as he breathed heavily. The pair of you struggled to catch your breath.

He stroked one warm, callous palm over your cheek ever so softly, though contrasted with possession, “Mine to ruin, eh?”

Thank you for reading and hope you enjoyed! As I said, I’m working through a lot of requests so thank you for your patience if you’ve sent one in <3

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