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mihsella · 6 days ago

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That other side of you.

Minors DNI!!

Bob Reynolds / Void x Female Reader

Summary: Void has been growing desperate, seeing how you and Bob fucked whenever you guys wanted to. He also wanted his turn with you, he wanted you to know how good he could make you feel.

Warnings: Shameless smut, vaginal sex, fingering, oral sex, dom and sub undertones (i think), rough sex, overstimulation (if you squint), small reference of substance abuse.

A little bit of cute romance Bob for like two lines lol!

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You had been dating Robert Reynolds for a while now. Ever since you first saw him, you felt pulled towards him, that weird gravitational attraction that you only get once in your life. His dark messy hair, his deep blue eyes, his charming good-boy smile, they melted your heart since day one.

You loved how he was when you two got intimate. He was soft, delicate, yet somehow desperate, almost submissive at times. He could be at your feet whenever you wanted him too, begging you to touch him, begging you for more. And you loved him like this, you loved how desired he made you feel.

You knew about the Void, he had told you about him after your first night together, expecting you to leave like everyone else did. But you? You stayed. You can't deny you were scared at first, you knew how hard it was for him to control it, to control him. Nevertheless, ever since he joined the Thunderbolts, things were actually looking brighter. Bob came into peace with Void, and Void came into peace with Bob. They even talked to each other and Bob even allowed Void to manifest himself and do everyday things. And whenever he did, he was surprisingly normal. You just chatted and kept him up with everything, he became like another friend to you, another version of the puppy eyed boy you loved.

You were already accostumed to seeing Bob speak to himself, you knew he was talking to Void. But lately he seemed jumpy, uncertain. Whenever he spoke to himself he made sure to leave the room, it was like he didn’t want you to hear him, to hear them. It wasn't until one morning, when you were sipping coffee, that your boyfriend approached you, eagerly sat down, and said;

"I want to talk to you about uhm....something."

"Oh, what is it babe? Everything ok? …..Is it something at work?" You asked shyly. His recent demeanor had you worrying that he may had relapsed, or had problems dealing with Void again.

"No, its just uhm. Its about Void" He said, fidgeting with his hands and avoiding your eyes.

"Oh. Is he making you upset again?" You asked, eyes widening.

"No, its not that its just. You know how he has feelings too and needs too, right? Like he is kinda human after all….I guess. And, you know, uhm, we are like at some level the same person, so if I like something or need something he tends to feel the same way. That's why I let him take the lead sometimes, and talk to you, and go for walks, and eat and stuff" He is jumpy, shy, acting like the first time he ever talked to you. You must admit it, Bob was extremely timid, but now, he looked almost ashamed.

"I know that baby. I get that and I've told you I'm ok with that. I understand." You look deep into his eyes, stretching out your hand over the table to grab his. You knew he was insecure about his "condition”, yet you had never seen him this way.

“It’s just well, he had this idea, well I guess we had it cause I agreed and all. You know I love you so I guess he loves you, so…”

“So…?”

“So….ugh how the fuck do I say this…god” He brought his hands to his head, and furrowed his eyebrows. “Uhm…well..”

“Bobby, babe, you know you can tell me anything. You know I am willing to help you as long as it means you can control him and you guys can be at peace.” You looked at your boyfriend sincerely, you were truly willing to do anything for him.

“Well, he wants to…uhh…..he wants to fuck you”

“Oh” Your cheeks turned red. “I…I don’t know what to say” You can’t say you hadn’t thought about it before. About knowing how this other side of your boyfriend was, how he would touch you differently, feel you differently. But it was always just a fleeting thought. You never thought Bob would allow something like this.

“I mean if you don’t want to it’s fine”

“No no… I’ll do it” You smiled at him.

“Oh thanks babe really, I can’t thank you enough. This guy, you know, he was driving me crazy” He stood up, reached over and kissed your forehead, cupping your face in his calloused hands. “I love you so much” He smiled, his eyes brightening.

“I know” You smiled back.

He reached for your lips, pulling you into a soft, delicate kiss. And suddenly, he stopped. His eyes, still blue, turned somehow dark, like if a fog had taken over. He pulled away, smiling, he was still Bob but, not your Bob. He smiled cockily, confident, and looked straight at your lips. “Hey there”

You stood up, now aware. “Void..?” You looked straight into his eyes.

“In the flesh, baby” He pulled you into a long, deep kiss. His lips grazed yours roughly, he was desperate, hungry. His tongue exploring every single part of your mouth. His hands were everywhere, he grabbed your hair, cupped your face, touched your waist. It was so different from Bob’s delicate kisses, yet just as delicious. You replied back, putting your hands on his torso and sliding down, keeping up with all that he was giving you. He was so rough, so desesperate, you felt your whole body aching for him, that familiar feeling building up between your thights.

Sloppily, in between kisses, you made your way towards your bedroom. Clumsily tripping over stuff as you did. You got to your bedroom and he stopped, looking into your eyes “You are so beautiful”. He hugged you and held you up as he kissed you, slowly moving towards your neck. His hot breath against your skin made you feel otherworldly, you felt his desire in every single kiss. You moved your hands towards his shirt, trying to take it off without breaking the kiss. He looked down at you and smirked “Pathetic..” He cockily took his shirt off with just one hand, and took yours off just as easily. (God, has he been practicing this??) In a couple of swift movements you were completely naked, and him in his in underwear, his torso glowing under the sunlight.

“so fucking pretty for me…” He whispered, out of breath as he laid you in the bed. He climbed over you, his eyes locking with yours as he trailed kisses from your face, to your neck, and then to your torso. “So, so fucking pretty” He said as he took his mouth to one of your breasts. He kissed it, sucked it, ran his tongue in slow, torturing circles around your nipple. Grabbing your other breasts with his free hand and pinching that nipple as he sucked. A moan escaped your lips as you felt his tongue in your breasts, alternating between each one, kissing and grabbing, making you feel so sensitive. You were sure your breasts were already sore when you felt him start trailing his kisses down, his hot lips grazing through your skin. “I’m gonna make you feel so fucking good baby, you’ll forget you’re even dating goddamn Bob”.

He got to your clit and started kissing it, so slowly, yet it felt like so much. You looked down, into his sweet dark eyes, he looked beautiful. His long hair framing his face as he looked straight at you, face buried between your thighs. He went slowly on your clit, he wanted you to beg him, to make him know how hard you wanted him. “M…more”

“What was the baby?”

“More… please” You whined. You felt pathetic, writhing under this man. You felt his tongue slide through your folds, teasing them before he went all in, alternating between sucking and kissing your clit, and sliding his tongue through your folds. You moaned and whined, you felt it through your body, his tongue was hot against you. You felt yourself get wetter, you needed him, all of him, everywhere.

Almost as if he heard you, he suddenly added a digit into you, expanding and pumping. You couldn’t keep up with everything, his finger reached deep, into that sweet spot your boyfriend would always reach. Instinctly, you reached down, grabbing his soft hair and pushing him deeper towards you. He looked at you and smiled, he was so fucking cocky and you hated it, yet he made you feel so good, so used.

He inserted another digit and you felt your boyfriend’s cold rings against your entrance, his fingers curling as his tongue kept torturing your clit. Your moans were almost pornographic at this point. Loud, whiny, pathetic sounds came out of your mouth. “Those sounds baby, keep making them.” He said as he smirked at you, fingers pumping in and out of you mercilessly. You felt the heat quickly building up, like you were about to spill in any minute. “M’gonna…gonna cum..” you managed to get out in between your moans. He smiled, and started sucking harder on your clit, keeping the same pace with his fingers. You quickly felt your core tensing, and with a moan came undone into his hands, breathing heavily and writhing from the pleasure. Your mind was foggy, and you saw stars.

“So good for me baby, aren’t you? Such a good girl” He took his hands towards your waist, and started trailing them through thighs, kissing them and caressing them. “That was so much..” You said, still slurring on your words. “Oh but it wasn’t enough for me baby.” You heard the smile in his words as he took off his boxers, carelessly tossing them to the side.

He climbed on the bed and aligned himself with your entrance, sliding his cock through your folds. You were so sensitive that it already felt like too much, and he hadn’t even entered you yet. He looked at you, grabbing your face as you felt him go in, causing you to moan. You were so wet for him that it just slid in, no pain. You were already used to your boyfriend’s dick yet seemed to always forget how utterly big he was.

He gave you a moment to adjust to his size, and started pumping into you slowly, his eyes praising you as he did. You felt him him hitting deep into your core. Slowly, torturing you, making you feel each and every trust. He slowly kissed your neck, leaving marks all over you as he steadily increased his pace. You felt how much he filled you, overwhelmed by how his cock felt against your folds, and how his mouth was nibbling the skin of your neck. “I’m gonna fuck you dumb” he shamelessly whispered against your ear as he quickly started on a pace, going harder and faster into you. You were already so sensitive and now just felt completely cockdrunk. You couldn’t control the moans that were escaping you, and couldn’t even keep your legs straight, going limp under him, completely vulnerable to his touch.

He took notice of your reaction, and moved his hands towards your waist, pinning you down into the bed as he mercilessly fucked you. Each thrust leaving you out of breath and making your mind foggier. You could only feel him, it was so overwhelming yet so good. You could only feel him going faster, harder, giving you everything he had. You closed your eyes, unable to handle everything he was giving you. “Open your eyes, I want you to see this” he said, as you looked up and saw his hair framing his beautiful face.

His pace quickly became erratic, small moans escaping his lips as you felt that familiar feeling growing inside of you again. He kept holding down your waist as you whimpered, choking out every single time he hit that spot. He looked down on you, mouth open as he fucked you. Then, with one last long thrust, he came undone into you, filling your insides so perfectly. And so did you. Feeling your mind go completely blank and your body get overpowered by that heat, legs shaking with one last, loud moan. He collapsed on top of you, rolling over as he took deep breaths.

He looked at you. Your mind still foggy and fucked out of comprehension. “God, now I know why Bob loves you so much” He said as he cupped your face in one of his hands. Leaning in to kiss your forehead, and smiling as he looked into your eyes. You smiled back, catching your breath.

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This is my first fic here!! Taking any recommendations or prompts. Lowkey thinking about doing a sub!Bob fic. Tell me your thoughts!! Love you guys!! <3

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crimsonspring · 6 months ago

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"What do you think our wedding will be like?" She asks, and Rafayel feels his heart still immediately. He gives it a second, letting the two opposing sides of his heart battle it out.

A part of him feels giddy - she wants to be his bride again. It will happen again, because they are fated mates! All of the worrying was for nothing because look - she wants to get married, bonded to him again! Sure, the "sanctity" of marriage amongst humans on this earth is laughable and ludicrous compared to the solemn oath he literally has embedded on his chest... but he'll take it nonetheless. He'll take anything she has to offer, honestly.

Albeit, the other part of him wants to sulk and throw a tantrum. Because this question is simply yet another reminder of what was left forgotten. The fact that she had already been his bride, but that fact to be so horridly and devastatingly taken away from him. Ripped away from his clutching fingers. Sea of God he may be, but the strength of fate has no competition. What a painful reminder that question is, to be reminded that... Oh yeah you were my bride... until?..

Rafayel doesn't realise that dancing between the two emotions has taken some time. Purple eyes swirling with mixed emotions as his lips pursed to the side in silence. This reaction causes her to shift nervously, afraid that she's made him uncomfortable with the question.

She clears her throat soon after, sitting up after spending hours on the couch with him, slouching against the backrest as his purple hair splays out against her chest. The movement shakes him out of his trance, a brief moment of confusion (and a dramatic look of "how could you!”) plastered on his face as he turns around, sitting up for the first time in 2 hours as well. He faces his blushing partner who is clearly flustered at his lack of response.

"Um.. I mean - I'm not saying we will definitely get married or like whatever, it was just a question! I don't even know if you wanna marry me. again, it was just a question, you don't have to answer it if you-"

He gasps dramatically, brows furrowed deeply as he scoots away from her in bewilderment. "Did you say you don't even know if I want to marry you?" He scoffs, standing up and begins to pace around the room. "Is my devotion - and quite frankly - obvious and constant yearning for you not enough? For you to even question that?"

"Rafayel, I-" "Maybe the hunter's association should put you on bed rest if your brain's not functioning properly. Oh perhaps, it's not the brain, it's your heart and its inability to feel the love I have for you. Is that right, hm?"

"Rafayel," she repeats louder this time, sighing. "That was not what i meant - I just.. You went completely silent on me when I asked the question, so I thought you felt uncomfortable with the topic of marriage." shrugging, the red on her cheeks deepens as a replay of the scene comes to mind. she shrivels into herself, crossing her legs as she begins to play with the loose threads of her sweater. "And I know we’ve never talked about it either, so I shouldn't have just sprung it on you like that."

His face softens immediately, guilt pricking his chest as he watches the vulnerability she was expressing. While she isn't exactly wrong - the topic of marriage does make him uncomfortable. As much as he wants her to be his bride, it’ll undoubtedly open new doors for pain all over again. But as uncomfortable it is, Rafayel knows that she is someone he'd carve his own heart out for (well....).

"You have nothing to apologise for.," He reassures her gently, the tone contrasting the loud rant he performed earlier, and he's back on the couch, crawling onto the space next to her. His fingers are careful, he reminds himself he's holding onto his reason of being, his kryptonite, the atoms of sunlight itself. He feels his stomach flip, and the soft warmth that begins to exude from the side of his chest tells him that if she peeked underneath his shirt, she'd bear witness to the physical embodiment of his sacred vow. "It threw me off guard, yes. But only because i've been keeping it myself for far too long, cutie," he smiles, still ever so gentle as his thumb caresses the smooth of her cheek.

"I’ve known that i have wanted to marry you for years now," and while she'll take that as a mere dramatisation (Rafayel being Rafayel), he means that as literally as it gets. Only he is well versed with the pain, humiliation and fear that comes with the wait and longing, and for a moment, he's almost grateful that she doesn't know. He doesn't want her to be burdened with such hardship-filled emotions, so he'll carry it for the both of them.

"You won't be in white - maybe a light shade of blue. I'll obviously wear the best suit ever to be worn. We'll have a ceremony by the beach," he's speaking straight from the vision he's replayed in his mind countless of times, the smile on his face unconsciously growing as he mindlessly twirls a piece of her hair. "You'll have your hair down, and it'll probably get caught in the sea breeze - but it just makes sense to me."

"and," he pauses for a moment, hesitating before he continues. "We'll say our vows twice. One for everyone to bear witness to, and one just for you and me." A vow so sacred and intimate, Rafayel refuses to share with the world. He refuses to taint it even a little bit, it should simply be meant only for his lover and him, and his pure everlasting love for her.

"Oh," he has rendered her speechless, and now it's Rafayel's turn to be nervous, fearing he has made her uncomfortable. Hiding the embarrassment behind a scoff, he pulls away with a pout. "Y-You were the one who brought it up first!" Immediately, she shakes her head and pulls him back into her chest and Rafayel doesn't fight his body when it relaxes immediately. "I was just a little surprised, Raf - in a good way. Didn't think you would've had all these little details in mind already." Her voice mirrors his previously gentle one, and Rafayel feels his eyes flutter shut, coaxed by her fingers running through his hair.

She hesitates, but braves herself to say it. time and again, once peeling off his layers, she's beared witness to his endless courage so why not walk in his footsteps? "I do hope we get married." Her voice is quieter, but it speaks volumes to him. He feels a lump form in his throat at the emotions that begin to overflow within him. He reaches out to catch onto her hand that's combing through his hair and brings it to his chest in attempts to quell the tears that threaten to form behind his closed lids.

Shakily, his lips whisper against her knuckles, "In my mind, we already are."

In his world, they already were. How lucky is he to get married to her, again and again, and again.

God, he'd do it a million times over.

#i find it hardest to write for rafayel but here's a first try!!!! hehe lmk what u think #love and deepspace #lnds #lnds rafayel #rafayel love and deepspace #rafayel fluff #l&nds #rafayel #rafayel x reader

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differenteagletragedy · 29 days ago

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Part four of Price being your neighbor who is not so secretly in love with you even though you have a booooyfriend

Part One — Part Two — Part Three

John is a man who thrives on routine. He has a certain way of doing things, and a certain time frame in which he does them. The fact that he's doing laundry on a Sunday night just to spend time with you says more about his feelings for you than he's said in words, at least so far.

But there he is, 6:45 on Sunday evening, basket in tow as he stands in the small little laundry room in the basement of your apartment building. You'd agreed to meet at 7:00 when you texted earlier, and he's a firm believer in being punctual.

(There's also a part of him that believes you've already done enough waiting for each other, but he doesn't need to voice that just yet.)

He didn't expect you to be as early as he was, but he is a bit surprised when 7:00 rolls around and you don't show. By ten after, he's a little perplexed, but when he sees you're 20 minutes late, he feels a pang of concern.

So he texts you. No answer.

His mind races, trying to form the best plan of action, but soon you’re walking through the door, cheeks flushed and your own laundry basket in your arms. You offer him an apologetic look before dropping your eyes back down to the ground, setting your basket on a nearby machine.

“You all right, sweetheart?” he asks, studying your expression. By now, he knows you just well enough to see that something’s wrong.

“Yeah, fine. I just thought it would be nice to … I don’t know, after yesterday. To hang out for a bit.”

"I'm not talking about that, love."

He watches you bite your lip, eyes still down, before you say it.

"He went through my phone and saw our texts, then got all ... well, we had an argument."

John raises his eyebrows, his lips a tight line and his mind playing through worst case scenarios, but he pushes them aside to focus on you.

"Truly, you all right?"

You nod, but he can see the tension in your shoulders and the slight shake of your hands as you start shoving clothes in one of the machines. Not for the first time since he's had the displeasure of meeting your boyfriend, he's torn between the primal urge to tear the man limb from limb and the softer but no less urgent instinct to tend to you.

And not for the first time, he chooses you.

"There was nothing wrong with our texts," you say after a beat. "He just thinks there's ... I don't know, something between us. Which I told him was silly."

"Is it though?"

"John ..."

He drops all pretenses of doing laundry and steps next to you, pulling a shirt from your hands and taking them both in his.

"Let's speak frankly, you and I. Can we do that, sweetheart?"

Another nod, and he smiles approvingly, his thumbs stroking the tops of your hands.

"Yesterday ... we shared a moment, didn't we?" he asks, his voice a low murmur. "You let me hold you. I would have kissed you, and I think you would have let me. Do you think you would have?"

"I ... yes."

He smirks, not in an unkind way, and squeezes your hands.

"Seems like there may just be something between us then, don't you think, pet?"

When you agree this time, your voice so soft and hesitant, he guides your hands to his shoulders, placing them there before, like yesterday, moving his hands to your waist. When you don't pull away, he looks at you, wanting to make sure you're still listening before he continues.

"You deserve better than this. Better than some small man who brings you down, and better than a man like me who's selfish enough to steal moments like this."

He sees the furrow in your brow, your fingers moving to the short hairs on the back of his neck, and you ask, "Then what do I deserve?"

"Everything, love. More than what I could give you, but I'd never stop trying."

He’s not sure who starts it, if he leans down or you reach up, but a split second later, he’s finally kissing you. And it’s not a gentle first kiss, some storybook thing with tender touches and a slow build. It’s hot and heavy from the start, but still, John wants more.

“I can’t,” you tell him as he begins moving his kisses along your jawline, down toward your neck.

But you can — you are. You can leave your boyfriend, get out of the relationship that’s no good for you, you can be with him. He meant what he said yesterday, all you had to do was make the step, take the chance. The second you take the leap, he’ll be there to catch you, and he’ll hold you for as long as you need. As long as you’ll let him.

He also meant what he said just now: you deserve the best. Much better than a heated moment in a basement laundry room. With some difficulty, he pulls back, giving you a small, warm smile.

“If you only let me, sweetheart, I’ll give you everything,” he says. “But you’ve got to trust me, you’ve got to let me do it.”

A beat passes, and he can almost see the wheels turning in your mind.

“I’m just scared,” you finally admit. “I’ve been with him for so long, it’s like … I don’t know. Like I don’t know who I am without him.”

“He doesn’t define you, love. It’s all right to be scared, but I wouldn’t let anything happen to you. You trust me?”

You consider the question for a minute, then there it is: a small, tentative smile. A confirmation.

Something he can work with.

#john price x you #john price x reader #captain price x reader #cod john price #call of duty price #price x reader #cod price #captain john price #john price #captain price #price cod

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pricegouge · 3 months ago

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shovel talk

it's not even six in the morning and yet the shovel grates across the walkway, grit of pebbles beneath its steel edge scraping and catching. it balks in unsteady hands, tries again with another drawn out rasp before meeting the wall of the bank. trembling as it rises, it spills a portion its spare load back across the pavers before being tipped meticulously atop the mountain of snow that runs parallel the walk. she lets the shovel fall carelessly ahead of her and grits her teeth, rises an inch and scoots forward minutely, dragging the cheap lawn chair she's been perched on along by a hand shoved between her knees, gripping the seat. it scrapes just as much as the shovel, heavy with implication. she's not even wearing a proper jacket, just a flannel over a zip up hoodie, the wool weave of her button up already beaded with melted snow.

she looks ornery and mulish, but so are you and you can't just keep walking past.

clear blue eyes turn on you when you call to her, ask if you can help. her hands might shake but her gaze is level, taking you in from head to toe before scooting herself along another inch. "shouldn't be doin' that," she advises, voice croaky in her old age.

"neither should you," you counter, nodding at her makeshift mobility aid. it teeters when she turns to chuckle at you, though she hides it in a cough. stubborn old bat, you can already tell.

"anyway my son will be here soon."

pursing your lips, you look the walk over properly. the poor woman's already done over half of it - how late is the son exactly? but you don't comment on it, step closer when her shovel catches on a shelf of ice instead. "give it here, please," you offer rather diplomatically. she frowns apprehensively but does as told, shuffling her seat back a smidge to give you room to work. it takes a couple tries but you catch the bottom edge of the ice, ply it back and huck it over the bank easily enough. it thunks as it sinks through the snow, a real ice breaker.

"and here i'd pegged you for some soft, sweet thing," she laughs, sheepish.

"must've loosened it for me," you shrug, and turn to finish the walk while she's distracted, laughing herself into a minor coughing fit. "should you go inside?" you offer, unsure if it's a good suggestion seeing as that would leave some strange woman alone on her front lawn.

thankfully she just waves you off as she calms herself down, heavy breaths clouding around her like the smoke that's probably catching up to her. "can't. gotta take credit for your work when my son gets here."

"oh, i see how it is," you snark, and purposefully leave a good quarter inch on the paver, a base level that will freeze solid soon enough and create another sheet of ice for her to struggle with in the future.

she just eyes you, thin eyebrow pulled low on a once-heavy brow. she may be old and frail but it's a sort of sternness that doesn't dull with age and you can only smile to yourself as you fix it. no wonder her son still comes by to help. "he running late?" you ask conversationally, nod up the path where she's already done most of the work by way of explanation when she hmm's at you.

"oh, no. he'll be two hours early, probably. which is why i'm out here three hours early. a woman's got to have her pride, after all."

you nod along as if that's reasonable. "well what's he gonna do when he gets here, then?"

"fix my water heater," she gripes. "say, you wouldn't happen to know anything about that, would you?"

it earns an unladylike snort from you, but you don't think she's the type to mind. "'fraid not."

the stoop is easy enough, just a quick swipe to clean the steps. you note the name above the door with some interest, a misplaced desire to keep tags on her, come back and check maybe. "got any salt, mrs. price?"

she motions you toward the open garage behind her but sticks a hand out for help as you pass. her grip is surprisingly strong on your forearm, the fingers of her other hand digging into your tricep almost cruelly when she uses you to drag herself up. you snatch the lawn chair up before she can even try it, nod toward the garage questioningly.

"next to the overhead, please," she agrees, and you find the bucket of salt right beside it, an empty coffee can already filled and ready for dispensing. when you emerge from the garage, there's a truck parked out front.

"give me that," mrs. price hisses and you jump to find her so close, already snatching the can from your fingers. old bat can still move.

the driver's door creaks when it closes. you can only see the top of a blue beanie from over the roof of it but mrs. price doesn't wait to see him before hollering at her son. "i thought you wouldn't be here until nine!?"

tall and burly with his mother's same stern brow, price junior rounds the corner of his truck and frowns between the two of you."and i thought you didn't like when other people shoveled for you," he counters before tacking on a quick hi pet towards you.

"hi -."

"who's shoveled for me?" she demands, motioning up the walk with another spray of salt. "did this all on my own."

he hums as he comes closer, boots crunching over the thin dusting of snow that still coats the driveway. you sincerely hope mrs. price didn't shovel all that, but judging by the banks that line the drive you suspect a service was likely hired. why they couldn't take an extra two minutes to clear an old lady's walkway you'd never know. you think maybe the son is wondering the same, the way he's inspecting the short stretch critically, but when he opens his mouth it's not at all meant to insult the snow removal service. "you're losing your touch, woman."

you're unsure who's more offended, yourself or his mother. "what's wrong with it?" you blurt, unheeding of the way mrs. price elbows you again.

"i've done a fine job," she supplies, trying to save face.

he just tilts his head at her patronizingly, rocks up onto his toes to appear unnecessarily bigger. "you've forgotten we're expecting more snowfall soon. you'll want to widen the walk to push the banks back, make it easier to shovel out the next storm."

this ass. "well if you'd wanted it done right, you should have shown up on time," you huff, unreasonably defensive of the quick job you'd done.

he's still got that insufferable expression on when he turns to you, but you think you see an edge of something playful glimmering in his clear blue eyes, that same expression his mother had worn when she'd asked if you could perhaps also take his job fixing her water heater. "'on time' would be hours from now," he reminds you. "would you have had this all fixed by then?"

the worst part is, calling him out on the insult would mean admitting you'd done it, and you're suddenly very aligned with this man's mother re: his versus her pride. instead you turn his own words back on him, leaning close to your new friend to ask her if she's going to take that.

she chuckles. "oh, don't mind him. john here's just scared because he knows his job is at risk."

you watch john frown between the two of you, the furrow between his brows deepening in a way which brings you too much pleasure. part of you wants to stay, keep carving away at his pride, but you're now running late for work and you still have a few blocks to walk. "well, it was lovely to meet you, mrs. price," you say with an overly formal shake of her hand.

"pleasure doing business," she agrees with a wry smile. "see you again bright and early next snow storm."

john doesn't budge to let you pass, instead squints down at you in open assessment. you note his cheeks are rosy with the cold and you briefly hope he gets stuck outside fixing the damn walk, cold wind stinging the chapped apples of cheeks which his ridiculous beard doesn't quite cover. they scrunch up when he affects a smile, lend a sort of disarmingly childish quality to the patronizing tone he still can't quite drop. it just pisses you off even more. "didn't actually catch your name," he prompts, gloved hand extended, as if attempting to continue the ruse.

"that's because i didn't give it," you chirp in your best customer service voice. you brush past him when he can only blink in confusion, the contrast between your words and your tone evidently too much for him to process so early in the morning.

"she usually pays me with breakfast if you want to stick around!" he calls after you, far too late to start acting sweet.

you nearly slip in your haste to spin around and fix him with an overly saccharine smile. "oh, i already ate. got here at five," you lie, just to watch his face crumble into genuine concern.

behind him, his mother's thin mouth twists into a cheshire grin and you stumble away before she can solidify any real plans.

too bad she's just as stubborn and ornery as you.

too bad john's worse than both of you.

#idk i just wanna make him fall in love with someone who would absolutely hate him irl (me)#price x reader #shovel talk #captain john price x reader #john price x reader

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etheries1015 · 2 years ago

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Hello! I hope your having a good day while reading this but I was wondering if you could write a fic about the housewardens reacting to their s/o koala holding them when they sleep!

Awee that's a cute idea! The house wardens with their little Koala humans heuheu.

TWST housewardens react to their s/o holding them while they sleep

Warnings: Gender-neutral reader, probably shorter than you may have hoped, I'm sorry :( But I hope you still like it!

Riddle Rosehearts

The first time you two slept in the same bed, he was caught off guard when he was suddenly engulfed by your arms. I see him as the type to sleep on his back, still and quiet, and suddenly that is disturbed by the significant other grabbing hold of his arm and utilizing half of his body to be subjected as your personal body pillow. He may find it uncomfortable initially, however, he finds a happy medium by adjusting his form to work with yours whilst still giving him a full night of proper rest. you of course weren't in control of how you slept, and was rather grateful you trusted him as much.

"Were you aware you tend to hug me in your sleep?" He chuckled, "Huh? No, I do not mind. I found a comfortable position to sleep in so that we both got what we wanted. You don't need to sleep elsewhere, I feel...strangely comforted by your embrace..."

Leona Kingscholar

you don't even get the chance to do it first, he already has you beat. He is most assuredly the first to fall asleep between the two of you, his arms are wrapped around your waist and head propped against your shoulder before you had the chance to reciprocate. HE is the koala between the two of you. However, when you wake up in the morning you find that you're now facing him, a tangle of arms and legs as if during the night you both sought to be closer to one another. One big cuddle competition. Yet it was oddly comforting, how you both slept very similarly. Sometimes you're more aggressive than he is though, with your legs bent and holding him in your grasp on the odd days you fall asleep first. It restricts his movements from being able to adjust himself the way he wants, so he isn't shy to wake you up.

"Oy, wake up. I wanna move. Eh? You're comfortable like this? I don't care, let me hold you instead."

Azul Ashengrotto

I will die on this hill when I say that Azul sleeps kind of like an Octopus in his human form, with his arms and legs spread out on the bed. it's his highest form of vulnerability and trust in you for you to sleep in the same bed as him, so of course he will want to practice the same for you. Even when you grab hold of one (or a few) of his limbs and cuddle him as if you were the koala and he the branch, he doesn't mind whatsoever. He is a very still sleeper, so he doesn't feel his movements to be constricted whenever you cuddle him in such a way.

"Do I mind the way you grab hold of me while we are sleeping? No, not at all. If I am being completely honest, it's rather nice..." He falters, "I see it as a form of affection and trust, a sign that you feel safe with me. I rather that not change."

Kalim Al-Asim

He thinks it's the cutest thing in the entire world he has ever seen. The way you grab hold of him in your sleep as if you were claiming him to be yours, he thinks it's wonderfully splendid! It's as if you were being possessive, or you found him to be a soft pillow to grab hold of at night and cuddle with. Honestly, the first time it happened, he got so excited he had to hold in his squeals of satisfaction and joy to not wake you. He revels in this, his head leaning against yours as you use your entire body to hold him close to you. Kalim honestly can't think of a cuter habit for someone he loves to have.

"When you grab hold of me at night, it's the best feeling ever! Oh oh, tonight, can I hold you instead? let's reverse the roles! I want to hold you too- Oh, you won't get a good night's sleep that way? well, that's alright! I'll be your personal pillow as much as you want! Hehe!"

Vil Schoenheit

Vil always had a strong disposition to have a good night's rest. He had his reserves about sleeping in the same bed as you for a while, however, his desire to be close to his beloved outweighed his desire for model sleep. He finds it rather cute when you are in a deep sleep and your arms and legs automatically take him in your grasp. He never thought he would be able to properly sleep with another person by his side, so he is pleasantly surprised when the soft warmth of your body actually helps him get a better rest than ever. He feels safe and at ease in your arms, a strong contrast to the craziness of his everyday life. Being in the public eye he isn't fond of PDA, so at night when it is truly just the two of you, he savors every moment you bless him with your embrace. It's a truly peaceful feeling for him, the way you cutely cuddle into his body without a care in the world about who he is, how he sleeps, and what he looks like in his vulnerable state. It's just... you and him. Nobody else. It's a very intimate time for him.

"Your sleeping habits? Hmm...well, you grab hold of me every night. What? No, it doesn't obstruct my sleep. If anything, I have been feeling much more energized in the mornings...don't overthink it and come over here, my potato. It's time for bed, and I expect to be very thoroughly cuddled."

Idia Shroud

Oh my gosh. You have claimed him. Now he can't move a single muscle, like a cat you have made him your property. If he moves even a single inch, he knows it would ruin the flow and there would be a possibility of you moving, and he doesn't want that. It's like having a cat on your chest, and the second you move even a toe, the cat decides it's tired of you and moves on. Idia doesn't mind if he looses a little bit of sleep staring at the ceiling to allow you the majority of his body to cuddle, he's never been more elated about being in the same bed as someone before. He likes it a little too much, there was one time you were scrolling on his phone to find pictures of you cuddling him at night. An entire photo album in his gallery, in fact.

"N-n-nothing! that's nothing! Don't look, it's not...it's not what you think...oh jeez, you probably think I'm a total weirdo who takes pictures of people when they sleep-- no! not other people, it's just you! I- wait. That was a trap. You set me up for failure with that comment. Ahh, this is so embarrassing...please don't stop! I...I just like it so much when you hold me tight when you sleep...ugh. I can't believe I just said that, I sound like a corny male lead. Don't read too much into it, can't a man just enjoy his significant other's sleeping habits? Jeez..."

Malleus Draconia

You don't get the chance to cling to him, when you sleep with a dragon, they decide to do that for you. When you first slept together in the same bed, he was grabbing hold of you tightly, wrapping his body to be the koala and YOU the branch. There was only one particular night when he slept with his tail free, and you grabbed hold of it in your sleep. He woke up to feeling something pressed against his tail, looking back to see you had taken upon yourself to fully engulf your arms and your legs wrapping around to match. He was fully in your trap! After that, he found a way for both of you to be happy. Holding you in his arms, he adjusted his tail to fit snuggly in the middle of you two, enough for you to grab hold of it in your sleep whilst he was simultaneously holding onto you. Malleus would have preferred wrapping his tail around your body, however seeing you so at peace with it within your grasp, he made an exception.

"Be careful, my dearest. I wouldn't want my tail to hurt you by mistake, so you must be gentle. Ah- my lockscreen? Yes, I can't help but smile every time I gaze upon this photo I had taken, so I had Diamond assist me in changing my mobile device screen. Perhaps I shall take a few more photos, you are rather adorable grasping onto me like a babe to a blanket."

Link to my masterlist

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jinwoosbabyboo · 8 months ago

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“Will You Marry Me?"

How I imagine LADS Men would propose. This is part 2 of 2. I tried to do the sweet elegant writing, but that ain't me so here you go....

Xavier

Our lover boy Xavier is a literal prince. I feel as though he'd be very traditional with his proposal. The only unfortunate part is he can't ask for your fathers/family blessing because you know .... Anyway :)

He would definitely court you for a week even if you’ve already been together for over a year. The day of his proposal he would take you to a spot only he knows that has zero light pollution. Of course it’s deep in the forest.

MC: If I didn’t know any better I’d say you’re trying to kill me and hide my body Xavier: You have such creative thoughts MC: Seriously where are we going? Xavier: Somewhere special MC: So mysterious even after a year of dating

He’d bring you to a clearing that seemed like it was being lit up by a spotlight. It’s not though he chose to propose on a night with a full moon and clear skies so you could see how beautiful the stars are without all the city lights.

MC: It’s otherworldly Xavier: This was my favorite place to come when I needed clarity MC: Why didn’t you show me sooner? Xavier: I wanted to save it for a special day MC: oh what are you going to propose or something?

You’d be laughing and boom he pulls a ring out of his pocket shutting you right up.

MC: Oh shit! You’re really proposing Xavier: Yes im really proposing

His speech is so sweet it could give you cavities not only would he emphasize how much he loves you he’d let you know just how much he is solely yours. Even if you were to one day forget him and how much he loves you he would still always be yours and would do anything to keep you safe & most of all happy.

Xavier: My lady will you marry me? MC: I want nothing more

He might’ve been sweet and soft spoken during his proposal but that shy boy facade went out the window when you two got back home.

Sylus

It’s canon that Sylus gets nervous when he wants to ask you out. So just imagine how nervous he is getting ready to propose! He already constantly gifts you pretty gems and the gifts just keep increasing over the course of 3 months.

He second guesses himself thinking you may say no so he keeps putting it off but continues to shower you in gifts, quality time, full body massages, shopping sprees, dinner dates, lunch dates, you name it he’s doing it, you want it he got it. He’d be spoiling you so much you’d have to sit him down and ask him what’s going on. He would dismiss your concerns of course.

MC: Are you guys leaving for a while? Kieran: Why do you ask? MC: Sylus has been acting weird I feel like he’s about to disappear again Luke: That was one time and boss only did that because you asked him to leave you alone MC: I know but I’m worried now Luke: Relax miss hunter you’re overthinking

The twins would indeed gaslight you while Sylus worked up the nerve to propose. When he finally has the nerve to do it he goes all out. I’m talking he'd rent out the most exquisite restaurant money can buy. A whole staff at your beck and call. He'd wine and dine you with delicious food and expensive wine. By the time dessert comes you'd want answers.

MC: You're leaving me aren't you Sylus: Jumping to conclusions are we? MC: I'm serious Sylus you haven't been yourself lately you're worrying me Sylus: I guess this is the part where I explain myself

With two snaps of his fingers the twins would rush out; Kieran placing a giant box bouquet of red roses in your arms and Luke placing a crown on your head before rushing out leaving the two of you alone.

MC: What's this? and what am I a Princess? Sylus: You are and I'd love to change your title to Queen MC: Stop are you....

I don't picture Sylus giving a long winded speech. I feel like he would be the type to write it down so you could cherish his words forever.

Sylus: Will you marry me Miss Hunter? You can say no if- MC: Of course I'll marry you

Yet again I'm tackling this man as soon as he slips that ring on. Need to be in his arms immediately. Expeditiously.

Zayne & Rafayel here…

#love and deepspace #sylus love and deepspace #lnds sylus #sylus #love and deepspace sylus #lads #lads xavier #lnds xavier #lnds #xavier love and deepspace #nikaaaaimagine

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quantum1mmortality · 6 months ago

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Im so glad you're writing for Curly bc I'm so obsessed with him rn!! May I suggest (if you haven't done them already) some soft/fluffy post burn hcs? Like finally seing him again after a long drive to the hospital, mentally preparing yourself for what he might look like. Curly being so afraid about how you'd react, and just breaking down when you let out an "oh, Curly :(" and softly place a hand on his cheek, so worried that you might hurt him by accident that it's hardly even a touch at all. Curly leaning his cheek into your palm, having been so scared to see you and now so desperate for your touch.

Life returning to a new normal after a while, prosthetics and PT, skin grafts, so on. Lying in bed with him and being so relived and happy when he gets a spark of mischief like he used to and tries to tickle or play wrestle with you. Him quietly asking questions when the laughter dies down. if you missed his lips, or the blond hair you loved so much that now hardly grew at all. Reassuring him that it didn't matter what he looked like, or what he could and could not do anymore. He's still your curly.

Sorry this turned out so long 😭 I can't get him out of my head!

I LOVE what you wrote 🙏🙏 I'll be going off of these, taking bits and pieces of your hcs and then putting them in here. Overall just gonna be fluffy post crash Curly hcs :)

Of topic, but the way some people in this fandom treat post crash curly makes me nauseous. Finding out that some of you wouldn't treat him like I would makes me wanna cry. Maybe I'm too empathetic or maybe I'm a baby back bitch, either way, I'd care for this man so much. Y'all don't understand how much I love him.

Tw/cw; none!! One curse word but that's literally it (I think)

Not proofread

Extremely sensitive to touch for the first few weeks. I feel as though curly would be in incredible pain, but would try his best to keep your hands touching his cheeks, face, body in general. He'd even go as far as to whimper at how bad it hurt, yet still enduring it because he needed to know you still loved him.

He'd be so happy to see you anytime you were around. Just like pre crash, but it was more special. It got to the point where you would take off work for weeks at a time just to be with him, just so you could see him happy.

After the first two months of agonizing pain, you'd start touching him more. Not sexual, obviously, but just getting more physically affectionate. You'd be able to hug and kiss him goodbye, and hold on to his arm as you talked with him.

Speaking of talking, he wouldn't be able to, so you would talk for him. Basically telling him something, then answering any questions he may or may not have. You've known him long enough, you know how he'd react and question things, so it was practically a no brainer for you.

Now that he doesn't feel as much pain as he used to from your touches, you'd begin sleeping with him. NOT SEXUAL!!! Just cuddling up next to him in the hospital bed, laying your head on his shoulders and kissing him goodnight. Just like how you used to.

Eventually he'd start getting prosthetics, and aside from the physical therapy he's usually getting, you'd bring board games and playing cards so he could learn to use his new hands while still spending time with you.

Curly used to kick your ass in uno and honestly he still does. The trembling in his hands would slowly go away over time, and you were helping him with that much more than his physical therapist was; because at least he wanted to actually be around you.

After months and months, he'd finally be ready to take home. New prosthetics and a bunch of skin graft surgeries later, he's in good condition again. Not perfect in his eyes, but it is in yours.

He wouldn't be able to work, but Pony Express sends him checks as if he was. He gets enough from them, you could quit your job, but you don't want to be dependent on them. So you keep working.

Getting home from work is your favorite part of the day, having Curly be so happy to see you makes everything so worth it.

Your home life goes back to normal with a few exceptions, but nothing too drastic. Curly being in a wheelchair and still not being able to speak, but it's nothing you can't handle. You love him, you're willing to make sacrifices. He'd do the same for you, and you know that.

Bonus content; if you guys were married before the crash, once he got his prosthetic hands, he'd have you help him make a little beaded necklace for his ring to go on; that way he could still wear it :) he'd never take the necklace off once it's done

A/N; I've been pretty busy recently so sorry for the delay on requests; I have a lot of ideas for them though so hopefully they'll be out soon

#mouthwashing #curly mouthwashing #mouthwashing curly #mouthwashing x reader #captain curly x reader #curly x reader #captain curly #i love him so much you guys dont understand id sell my nephew for him #AND my nieces

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hunny-beann · 1 year ago

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I am literally having the worst day ever, do you think you could write some insanely fluffy Dream for me? I'm talking tooth rotting levels of fluff here.

Rest Now, Wife, Mine

Dream of the Endless x f!Reader

Note: Hi anon! Thanks a ton for the adorable request, I had a lot of fun with it and really hope it helps make your day feel a bit better <3

Synopsis: Morpheus' wife finds their bed far too lonely without him in it, and seeks out his presence to remedy this so she may finally succumb to slumber for the evening.

Thankfully, he is all too happy to oblige.

Warnings: None! Just pure and unbridled fluff :)

Word Count: 1,298

Her steps are silent and her pace slow as she approaches the familiar throne room, sensing even from outside of its walls that it is as close to empty as it is going to get for the evening.

That said, as close to empty as possible for the throne room of an Endless such as Dream was not nearly as empty as one might think, with it being a rarity that he not be found there.

She fights back a shiver as she steps across the threshold, her bare feet suddenly far colder than before, and her majority uncovered shoulders beginning to undergo horripilation at the seemingly inexplicable shift in temperature.

That said, being easy to explain was not a rule that the Dreaming followed, so this was nothing new, and certainly nothing unexpected.

Though, the sudden voice that split the once heavy silence in twain on the other hand, was.

"And what could possibly have you awake at such an hour, dear wife?"

The voice asked quietly, laced with both amusement and even a twinge of concern that had the wife in question smiling softly in spite of her best efforts to not appear excited at the mere sound of her love's voice.

Oh, but she had never been that strong, had she?

He had her wrapped around his finger just as he did the entire realm that he ruled, though he notably reserved the one with the ring for her and her alone.

She padded up toward his throne quietly, not willing to answer his question until she was close enough that her voice might not reverberate so loudly off of the palace walls.

Some words, she had decided long ago, were for her husband and her husband alone.

Upon her eager approach, the Lord of Dreams could not help but raise one of the corners of his mouth at the mere sight of her, holding his hand out at her nearness to guide her to stand before his crossed legs as he reached gently to take her other in his own as well, making a mental note of how chilled her extremities felt due to the cool night air of his throne room.

He watched as she slackened slightly at his familiar touch, her body always so happy to find him near in a way never ceased to have his heart all but melting at her feet.

What a disastrous little thing she was, truly.

He could never love another.

As her form relaxed at the feeling of his hands on hers, so loving in spite of the power that they held, she could not help but yawn softly, eyes growing teary as her ease allowed the weight of the day to truly set in.

Her dearest Dream Lord smirked up at her, his brow raised knowingly and his eyes twinkling as he watched her fight off the eternally tempting wiles of sleep.

What a sweet little thing, so helpless in her battles against her own biology that it was entirely too amusing to ignore, and always far too entertaining to neglect to bear witness to.

"You are tired, my dear."

The Lord of Dreams stated matter of factly, tugging his beloved closer using his soft grip on her hands so he could properly brush some of her hair behind her ear, a gesture which caused her eyelids to flutter closed briefly before they snapped open once more, her fight against herself not yet over in her eyes (though Dream could see clearly in the way that she swayed on her own two feet that there was already an obvious victor).

He chuckled quietly, shaking his head,

"You need to rest, sweet stardust. Let me bring you back to the bedroom."

He spoke gently, rising to guide her back to their soft and familiar bed only to halt when he heard her reply.

"No, I don't want to go back, you're just going to leave once you think I'm tired enough not to follow."

The Dream Lord faltered upon hearing this, raising a questioning brow in response before lowering himself down upon his throne once more, though this time he pulled his wife right along with him, sitting her on his lap in order to get a better look at her exhausted expression.

He frowned.

"Have you been staying awake on purpose, my love? Lying in wait for me as you promised you would not do?"

She shook her head, but he could see the way that the blood rushed into her cheeks as she tried to explain, embarrassed to admit the things that she had to in order to quell his worries of any intentional harm having been done.

"No, of course not, I just..."

The Lord of Dreams hummed and brought one hand to her back, rubbing up and down along her spine and feeling her lean against him unintentionally in response, her bones heavy and all too prepared to sink into whatever comfort they could find.

"You just what, dearest?"

He urged, causing his lover to nod blearily in response, slowly coming back to reality again.

"I just find that sometimes I cannot bear to sleep alone, that the bed feels far too wide and empty without you in it."

Dream fought back a slight smile upon hearing this, feeling more than a little bit proud to know that his wife could rely upon him enough to truly need him so (though he was notably unhappy to hear that this was causing her any amount of unnecessary strife).

"And is tonight one of those nights, beloved?"

He asked, watching as she nodded, her head lolling slightly upon her neck as her overworked muscles struggled to remain in control over her all too tired body and mind.

"Poor thing,"

Dream all but purred in response, adjusting his love upon his lap until she was leaning against him, breaths warm on his neck and body seeming to grow heavier by the second as the feeling of his familiar closeness drove her into a type of ease that was felt only at a lover's closeness.

"That will certainly have to be remedied, won't it?"

He murmured against her ear, feeling her shiver in response, nuzzling closer with a nod as he gathered his coat that had been hanging on the back of the dais behind him with just one hand, draping it over her body and pressing a soft kiss against her head as he felt her begin to drift off into a much needed and far too well deserved slumber.

"Rest now, wife, mine."

He said softly, feeling his dearest love smile gently against his skin at his familiar words and the use of his favorite (and almost sickeningly sweet) nickname for her,

"I will see to it that no one interrupts you as you do."

If she had been more awake, perhaps the woman would have rolled her eyes or even offered a sarcastic retort in response to her husband's dramatics, but instead she simply nudged herself closer, pressing a gentle kiss against the pale flesh of his neck before she drifted off for the very first time that night, feeling truly safe in the arms of her most adoring love.

And when morning arrived, and the throne room became far less uninhabited, the two of them made for quite a sight, indeed.

After all, who would have thought that the Lord of Dreams might choose to sleep simply to live life as his dear wife did, his cheek pressed gently against her head and his arms wrapped around her as slumber found them both, pulling them closer together, ever still, in the very same way that they belonged now, and always would for the remainder of eternity, and perhaps even beyond that.

ao3 link

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hcneymooners · 3 months ago

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⋆ up until the very last ember of my heart extinguishes, i will be thinking of you.

dj!mel x best friend!fem!reader. men & minors dni.

synopsis: you & mel have always been thick as thieves, and things have yet to change. but lately, you've been thinking of mel differently and, well—maybe you want more. cw: dj!mel, best friend!reader, female!reader, no age gap i fear, you guys are in your twenties, modern!au, resolved sexual tension, pining, friends to lovers, clubbing, not actually unrequited love, explicit sexual content, dom!mel, sub!reader, lowkey y'all are switches, wall sex, tender sex, vaginal fingering, edging, cunnilingius, oral sex (r!receiving), couch sex, mel is actually insane about you, obsession, possessive behavior, squirting, face riding, pet names, you guys are very soft for each other.

notes: i love her so much guys; i'm gonna be sick. hope you enjoy. this is really rough for my first time back in a while but it is what it is, hmm?

“you’re loyal to her. i’ve never gone a night without seeing you here.”

the words are screamed directly into your ear and you stumble a bit, already off kilter thanks to the lychee martinis you’ve been sipping since the beginning of the evening. the world is beautiful like this: slurred into soft strobes of turquoise, gold, green that caress the sweaty gleaming bodies of the people spinning within it. the set for tonight is still danceable but decidedly slower than usual, honing in on the loneliness and escapism other people may desire on valentine’s eve.

you blink blearily at the girl vibrating next to you. she shakes with a jitter you know belongs either to ketamine or cocaine—or perhaps both. ck-ing was a popular method of dressing up a club night in london. you stop swaying to the beat, body still as you focus on her completely. mel once told you that this was your pull—this ability to make whomever was in front of you feel as though they were the most important thing in the world to you.

“sorry, what?” you finally push out.

“mel,” the girl shouts again, gesturing to the stage way up front. “whenever she’s performing, you’re here!”

you glance up at the woman in question, face softening as you watch the way her body flows into her highly practiced routine of dance. tonight the movements are more minimal, courtesy of her dress—a masterpiece of fanned peacock feathers that catch and scatter light with every subtle movement. the feathers are arranged in a mesmerizing spiral from the jeweled clasp beneath her arm, each eye seeming to watch the crowd as she moves. it's shorter than her usual style, ending mid-thigh in a flutter of iridescent tips that make her look like some rare, exotic bird. every time the bass drops, the feathers tremble in response, creating a hypnotic dance of green-blue shadows across her skin.

it’s not typical for a dj-ing outfit, but mel has cemented herself as a rich girl with a talent. everyone knows who she is, who her mother is. they love that she comes down to their level during the weekends, covers herself in glitter and spins together a beat like some kind of opulent spider.

"yeah," you shout back, your voice still managing to sound tender. "she's my best friend."

the words feel both true and incomplete in your mouth - they always do. you've been "best friends" since you quite literally crashed into her at university, spilling your coffee all over her white hermès sweater. instead of the fury you'd expected, she'd laughed, dragged you shopping for a replacement, and somehow ended up buying you three sweaters instead.

that was mel all over: excessive, generous, impossible to refuse.

"lucky!" your momentary friend shouts back and your mouth dips into a smile that doesn't quite reach your eyes.

lucky. right. lucky to be the one who holds her hair back after bad nights, who listens to her practice sets until dawn, who knows exactly how she likes her tea when she's stressed (earl grey, splash of oat milk, two sugars). lucky to be the one who gets to love her from this careful distance, never quite close enough to risk everything.

the girl disappears into the crowd, leaving you alone with your thoughts and the music again. mel's current track winds down, bleeding into something slower, more haunting. you recognize it immediately—it's one of her original pieces, the one she'd made you listen to first, cross-legged on her bedroom floor at 3 am, her face anxious and hopeful in the low light.

the memory makes your chest ache. up on stage, she's different from that vulnerable version of herself. her movements are precise and controlled, even in that impossible dress. you watch as she adjusts something on her deck, the feathers shifting across her back like ripples in dark water. when she reaches up to adjust her headphones, the dress catches the light in a way that makes your breath catch.

you're not the only one watching. the crowd around you is entranced, and you hear snippets of their whispered appreciation. the warmth of your tipsiness is starting to wear off. you’re suddenly so much more aware of yourself, of the differences between you and the luminescent girl on stage.

tonight you’ve chosen a simple black midi dress with a scoop neck that cups your chest gently. the tops of your breasts swell up softly at the mouth of the fabric, gleaming with a golden sheen that could only belong to your beloved diamond shimmer bath and body works mist. your hair has been longer by a copious number of extensions, the bundles pooling together at your lower back. tinsel is strung artfully in-between some strands, a careful layering courtesy of mel.

as you look around at the people around you, you feel boring and a bit underdressed. everyone is suddenly so much cooler than you and the thought brings a rush of warmth to your cheeks, the embarrassment strong in its resurgence. you shift in place as the song changes to something a bit more fast-paced. there’s a chorus of screams, shouts of pleasure, and the floor begins to shake as people flood it to dance. you smile tightly as someone slams into you rather harshly, their apology half-assed and unfocused.

you clutch the top of your mother’s vintage ysl clutch, the chain a bit rusted and the body bulging with a combination of your house keys, your lip combo, some shit from work you didn’t take out in time, and the normally slim body of your phone which as been made bigger by the chunky sides of your artisan bedazzled phone case. the multiple polaroids of you and mel in the back didn’t help the situation in any way, the glossy memories slightly distended by the rolled bills you’ve tucked back there for emergencies.

as you turn to navigate the sudden pit of people, the music lowers just enough so that mel’s soft steady voice bleeds through. the lights flash once, twice, a third time; the bulbs are hot and pink. you know what’s coming, but you still don’t turn around, though your mouth twitches in a smile.

"hey, london," mel croons and the crowd screams back at her, eager to greet the woman soundtracking what is probably just another tuesday evening. "i have a question before i finish up. i don't want to forget."

your heart stutters in your chest. she does this sometimes, turns you into an unwitting participant in her performances. you remember the first time she did it, six months ago, how your knees had gone weak at the way she'd claimed you so publicly, so casually. how dangerous it had felt, how thrilling.

"has anyone seen my girl?"

the crowd goes crazy and you lift a hand to your mouth to hide your smile, heat flooding your cheeks. you hate how easily she can undo you, how these little moments of possession—even if they're just part of her show—make your pulse race. your free hand unconsciously touches the delicate gold chain around your neck—her birthday gift from last year, a tiny hextech crystal pendant that she'd said "reminded her of home."

"i came in with her. you know her, right? gorgeous little thing in a short black dress. kind of looks like…"

you close your eyes, remembering how she'd fussed over you earlier tonight, her fingers gentle as she wove tinsel through your hair. 'perfect,' she'd murmured, her breath warm against your ear, and you'd had to suppress a shiver. now, surrounded by strangers who are about to echo what you've felt for years, the irony isn't lost on you.

she trails off, holds out her mic to a group of girls right below her who giggle out the finishing portion of her sentence.

“…the love of my life!” they sing, drawing out the ‘i’ for a long while.

mel’s laugh echoes through the speakers, the sound throaty and raw. on cue, the music begins: “please don’t be love of my life” by caitvi, (calvin harris mix). they were a rock band that accidentally stumbled into becoming the summer muses for every edm fiend in existence.

you clutch your empty martini glass with a renewed strength, fighting until you manage to clutch a hand on the bar. the bartender smiles at you, complimenting your perfume which you don’t even think is still on your skin. you say thank you anyway, laughing openly as they tease you about your fondness for lychee. you’ve always been this way, you want to say, always holding on to what you know in the hopes that it’ll eventually love you back.

instead, you look over your shoulder at mel’s far off silhouette. there’s a moment where she looks up, seems to look at you. you don’t know if she really sees you, given your distance and the disorienting nature of the club. you smile regardless, raise a hand to wave lightly. the chrome bow on your acrylics flashes meanly, signaling your position.

she looks way, smiles earnestly at the crowd, and you drop your hand. the moment is broken, like always. as you move to pull your refreshed martini by the stem, mel’s dj tag sounds: sounds of birds of paradise, interwoven into one another over a damagingly sad violin sample. it’s her way of letting the people know that this will be her last couple of songs for the evening.

the birds’ calls fade into the melancholy beginning of “healing” by gordo featuring drake. the opening notes reverberate through you and you press your lips together, body thrumming with the effect of being noticed. she had seen you. that was the only reason she was playing this song. it had been your favorite for the past month, and now here it was on blast at one of the most elite clubs in the city.

‘i want to see you dance to this,’ she’d told you one evening, her mouth trailing against your shoulder. you were twisted together in your bed, the blankets plush around you as the two of you shared her airpods. ‘i want to see you have fun, lose yourself.’

‘i can’t lose myself,’ you’d said back, mouth rising in a secretive smile.

mel had lifted your hand teasingly, bit it gently, and then interlinked her fingers with yours.

‘don’t worry. i’ll find you.’

you look back at her, find her leaning over her deck with a finger pressed pensively to her mouth. she quirks an eyebrow and gestures to the crowd, as if asking why you’re not inside of it. you smile despite it all and abandon your martini, wiggling through the gaps of people until you're up front.

the bass drops and the crowd surges forward, but you hold your ground, eyes locked on mel. she's watching you now, really watching you, her movements more deliberate as she works the deck. you recognize this version of the song; it's her own remix, the one she'd been perfecting for weeks in her home studio. she'd added layers of ethereal synths that make it feel like you're floating, like you're the only person in the room who really understands what she's trying to say.

she gestures to her security guard, a subtle movement that you've seen countless times before. within moments, strong hands are parting the crowd, creating a path to the booth. your heart pounds as you're ushered up the steps, into her domain of switches and lights and pulsing energy. the peacock feathers of her dress brush against your arm as she pulls you close, her free hand settling on your waist.

"dance with me," she murmurs into your ear, her voice carrying despite the thundering music. her fingers trace patterns on your hip, and you wonder if she can feel you trembling. "show them what this song was made for."

you let your body move with hers, falling into the rhythm she's created. the feathers of her dress catch the light with each movement, creating a private light show just for the two of you. she keeps one hand on the deck, maintaining the perfect flow of music, but her other hand never leaves your body, guiding you through the dance like she's afraid you might disappear if she lets go.

the crowd below is going wild, but you barely notice them. all you can focus on is the way mel's breath catches when you press closer, the way her fingers tighten on your waist when you roll your hips. the tinsel in your hair catches the light, mixing with the iridescent shimmer of her dress until you're both wrapped in a cocoon of glitter and sound.

"see?" she whispers, and you can hear the smile in her voice. "i told you i'd find you."

the words send a shiver down your spine, and you turn your head slightly, catching her gaze. there's something different in her eyes tonight, something that makes your breath catch in your throat. maybe it's the valentine's eve atmosphere, or maybe it's the way the lights are hitting her face, but for a moment, you let yourself believe that the look she's giving you means what you want it to mean.

she transitions into the next song seamlessly, but keeps you close, as if she's forgotten that this isn't how she usually ends her sets. as if she's forgotten that you're supposed to be just her best friend, watching from the crowd like always. as if, just for tonight, you could be something more.

the spell breaks when you catch a glimpse of your reflection in one of the booth's chrome panels. you see yourself pressed against her, see the way you're looking at her: desperate, obvious, completely transparent. the music suddenly feels too loud, the lights too bright, your skin too tight. you're acutely aware of every place her body touches yours, and it's simultaneously too much and not enough.

"i need—" you start, but can't finish. mel's hand tightens on your waist for a fraction of a second before you pull away. you gesture vaguely toward the floor, not meeting her eyes. "sorry, i just—"

you don't wait for her response, practically stumbling down the booth steps. the crowd that had been watching your dance parts easily, perhaps sensing your urgency. you hear the next dj's tag start to play—some remix of a taylor swift song—which means mel's set is over. which means she might follow you. the thought makes you move faster.

you trip over your feet, your heel catching on the bone of your ankle as it lifts and you fall. your knees crack against the ground, but you regain your momentum. your neck is warm and you lift your hair with one hand as you spin, eventually locating the flickering neon sign denoting the bathroom.

the bathroom is mercifully empty when you burst in, all perfectly-cut marble and deep blue lighting that makes your reflection look expensive and almost admirably tragic. you press your palms against the cool counter, letting your head hang down as you try to steady your breathing. the bass from the club thrums through the walls, muffled but persistent, like a heartbeat.

“you’re always so fucking stupid,” you whisper to yourself, watching a tear splash onto the marble. you'd let yourself get carried away, let yourself pretend. but mel is mel. this is the girl who turns heads when she walks into rooms, who has fashion houses begging to dress her, who could have anyone she wants. and you're just… someone else.

her best friend, you suppose. the girl who’s responsible for holding her hair back when she's sick, who listens to her practice sets, who loves her so strongly that it feels akin to having a spear sunk through your chest.

the bathroom door opens with a soft whoosh, and you know it's her before she speaks. you can smell her perfume. it’s something custom-made in paris, a mix of lily, amber, and caramel. you don't look up.

"hey," mel says softly, and you hear the click of her heels on the marble floor as she approaches. "what happened up there?"

you close your eyes, trying to ignore how the marble feels like ice beneath your palms, how your body still burns where she touched you in the booth. "nothing happened, melly. i just needed some air."

you use your nickname for her as a way to disarm her, but mel has always been immovable when it came to getting something that she wants. the silence that follows feels incredibly long, but you know it hasn’t even been ten seconds. you lean forward, splash water on your face. blindly, you search for a paper towel but you’re handed a small hand towel instead. your makeup transfers onto the fabric, staining it with the traces of your exhaustion and loneliness.

"[name], look at me." her voice is gentle but firm, the same tone she uses when she knows you're lying. when you don't move, you hear her sigh, the sound followed by the soft rustle of feathers. then her hand is on your shoulder, turning you around.

she's closer than you expected, close enough that you can see the individual glitter particles scattered across her collarbones, catch the faint sheen of sweat at her temples from performing. the peacock dress seems alive in the bathroom's soft lighting, each feather shifting with her breath. you try to step back, but the counter prevents your retreat.

"you were crying," she observes, reaching up to brush her thumb beneath your eye. her touch lingers longer than necessary, and you hate how your body betrays you, leaning into her hand like a flower seeking sun. "why were you crying?"

"i wasn't," you lie, even as another tear escapes. "it's just the vodka. you know how i get."

"yeah," she says, and now both her hands are cupping your face, forcing you to meet her gaze. her eyes are dark, intent, stripped of their usual playful gleam. "i know how you get when you're drunk, and this isn't it. this is something else."

you try to laugh but it comes out choked. "melly, please—"

"when you were up there with me," she interrupts, one hand sliding down to rest against your neck, her thumb pressed gently against your pulse point, "what were you thinking about?"

the question hangs between you, heavy with possibility. you can feel your heartbeat racing beneath her thumb, wonder if she can feel it too. the bathroom suddenly seems smaller, the air thicker. somewhere outside, the music has changed to something slower, more intimate. the bass line crawls up through the floor and into your bones.

this is how love always finds you, corners you. it's a snake that's flat enough to slide underneath the door. you always watch it passively as it slides up your body, only crying out when it bites.

"i was thinking," you start, then stop, swallowing hard. her eyes track the movement of your throat. "i was thinking about how great you were tonight, how—how beautiful you are. ‘nd i was thinking about how some things can look real without being real. like stage lights. or club nights. or best friends who—"

you cut yourself off, but her grip on your neck tightens slightly, just enough to make your breath catch. the feathers of her dress brush against your thighs, a whisper of sensation that makes you shiver.

"or best friends who what?" she prompts, her voice low, almost dangerous. she's close enough now that you can feel her breath against your lips, can smell the champagne she'd been sipping between sets.

the door to the bathroom opens, the sound of the club surging in, and you both freeze. mel doesn't move away, doesn't drop her hands. instead, she leans closer, her lips brushing your ear.

"we're not done with this conversation," she murmurs, the words a promise that distills heat through your body. "come on."

she pulls back just enough to meet your eyes, and the look in hers makes your knees weak. you open your mouth to respond, but—

the bathroom door swings shut again, leaving you both in that suspended moment. your "okay" comes out barely above a whisper, but she hears it. of course she hears it. she’s always heard you, even when you chose not to speak.

♤

the ride home is thick with unspoken words.

mel's driver, marcus, keeps his eyes professionally forward as you slide into the back of the bentley, the leather seats cool against your bare legs. mel follows, close enough that the feathers of her dress spill over onto your thigh. neither of you speak, but her pinky finger finds yours in the darkness between your bodies, hooking together like you used to do in university when one of you needed grounding.

london slides past the tinted windows in a blur of neon and shadow. you watch the reflections of passing streetlights play across mel's profile, catching the sharp edge of her jaw, the elegant line of her neck. she’s removed her performance jewelry, but missed a spot of glitter near her ear. without thinking, you reach up to brush it away.

she catches your wrist before you can retreat, her thumb pressing into your pulse point again. the car feels smaller in a matter of minutes, the air between you charged with electricity. she turns to fully face you, bringing your hand up to her mouth so that she can slide your pointer finger into her mouth. the suck of her lips is gentle, tender. you watch her head bob as she slides down further, then pulls off.

she doesn't let go of your wrist for the rest of the ride.

when the car pulls up to her mayfair townhouse, you feel like you're moving through a dream. the click of her heels on the steps echoes in the quiet street. to you, they're like gunshots and you have the irrational thought of the neighbors coming out to complain, to tell you that your desire is choking them in the same way you feel now. your own steps are less sure, thanks to the martinis and the way your whole body seems to be humming with anticipation.

she fumbles with her keys briefly, something you've never seen her do, and then you're inside. the door closes behind you with a soft click that seems to echo in the darkness. neither of you move to turn on the lights. the moonlight filtering through her floor-to-ceiling windows is enough to see by, casting everything in shades of silver.

she looks unreal, like a figment of your imagination. you pinch the inside of your thigh, letting out a hiss of air from in-between your teeth. she moves closer, fingers the indentation where your nails had dug into the skin.

you shake, but she only steadies you.

"melly," you start, but she shakes her head, settling both hands on your waist.

gently, she maneuvers you until your back meets the wall. a hand lifts to settle at the base of your neck, her lithe fingers threading into your hair so that she can cup the back of your head. she’s making sure your head doesn’t hit the stone, sacrificing her own skin to ensure your comfort. the thought makes you warmer than before.

mel watches your face, her eyes almost erratic as she searches for whatever sign she needs. she comes flush against you and your legs part instinctively to make room for her, spread to accommodate the whole of her.

she lowers her head, mouth coming to burn against your neck as she presses a kiss there. you let out a small, weeping sound as if her lips have enabled a release inside of you. in a way they have. you soften, melt into her and find the strength to touch her.

your hands grasp at mel’s neck and she hums in satisfaction, working her teeth into the meat of your neck like a vampire. she pulls back only to look down, freeing a hand from your waist to inch the hem of your dress up.

you moan brokenly as you grow more exposed, your cunt wet against the baby blue lace that holds it. the moonlight sneaks between the both of you and renders the fabric practically translucent, the blue so light in its glow that it seems closer to white.

“you’re so beautiful, baby,” mel whispers and you blink at her, your throat tight. “you always say it about me, and i never understand it. when i look at our pictures, i don’t see anyone else.”

your eyes slip low, going tender, and you cup her face.

“you’re perfect, mel.”

“i guess we’re a good match,” she murmurs and then she’s in you.

the motion is so smooth, so quick. you hadn’t realized she’d peeled the fabric of your panties back, pushed them to the side. you know nothing now except for the steady pump of her fingers. there are two working deep into the heart of you, searching and spreading your slick heat.

you cry out, eyes wide like a doe’s. mel only smiles, predatory and slow. her teeth gleam, two rows of perfect pearls. you feel out of your body, but she brings you back in with every stroke inside of you. her breathing is becoming heavy, labored. her eyes seem a little wild and the hand on your neck moves briefly to squeeze tightly at your waist until you let out a deep “unh.”

mel grins again at the sound and it makes you surge forward, crushing her mouth into a bruising kiss. you bite at her bottom lip until she opens and lets you in, your tongue lapping all over as if to consume her. she slips a third finger inside of you, curling at the walls of your cunt to make you clench down.

you continue to kiss her, tilting your head so that angle is better. you slot together perfectly and she moans into your mouth, increasing the speed of her thrusts. you break away from her and study her face, taking in the way her lip gloss is smeared wickedly around her mouth. her lips are swollen and dark and she takes one in between her teeth as she works deeper into you.

your head falls back and she returns her hand to the nape of your neck, catching you before you can hit the wall.

“you’re okay, mama,” she murmurs and you nod, eyes focused somewhere distant on the ceiling.

she knows how you get, how disassociative you can become when you’re overwhelmed with emotion. she watches as you go somewhere she’s unable to follow. your chest heaves with every exhale and she leans forward to press a kiss to the top of your tits, then another right in the middle of them. her mouth is dusted with glitter when she pulls away.

you fuck down on her hand, an animalistic moan crawling from somewhere deep in your chest. mel fucks you harder, grunting as she shifts you bodily up and down with the effort. you keen as she uses her thumb to rub your clit, the circles tight and concentrated. pleasure arcs white and hot up your spine and you close your eyes, mouth falling open silently.

“that’s it,” she says. “come on, baby. come on.”

“mel,” you gasp and she laughs lowly.

“what happened to melly?” she teases and you whine, a foot kicking out as she presses against your g-spot.

“melly, please,” you whisper. “fuck, please.”

“please what?”

"just please.”

nothing changes. she only watches you squirm and beg like a whore, her face impassive. it was moments like these where you were reminded of her mother. the thought sends another shot of arousal to your cunt and it drools down mel’s wrist, sticky and warm.

“mel, fuck. fuck, i can feel it. i’m almost—i’m right there. just please, baby.” you’re crying now, disoriented and breaking apart with every push of her fingers. “please. please, melly, please."

you drag your eyes from the ceiling to her face, your pupils dilated and bright like stars. her face suffers through a range of emotion before she curses and yanks her fingers out of you.

“no,” you sob, and she sushes you.

“just hang on a minute, mama. hold on,” she soothes, her hands coming to lift you from beneath your thighs.

mel moves quickly and you take comfort in the fact that she needs this as much as you do.

you find yourself draped over the couch, your stomach resting on the arm of the chair. there’s a slight application of pressure as mel forces you into an arch, your ass and cunt pushed up. she nudges your legs apart and then gets on her knees, her hands coming to rest on the back of your thighs as she leans in and puts her mouth on you.

“oh,” you moan and she hums into you.

she’s methodical and precise, her tongue slipping into the mix and filling you as best she can. her pace increases as she licks you front to back, twisting so she can suck and nip on your clit. you let out a high mewl as she grips the plush flesh of your ass, rocking you slowly until you’re able to continue the rhythm on your own.

the heat returns, spirals up from your stomach into your chest and throat. you whimper, letting your head fall forward and down. your eyes squeeze shut as you focus on riding her face, swiveling your hips in small circles to better grind your clit against her nose.

again you can feel it, that call to somewhere distant. mel feels the way you tighten around her tongue, the sudden stiffening of your thighs. she knows you’re just there, right at the golden gate of your private paradise so she removes her mouth and focuses completely on stimulating your clit with her fingers.

“mel,” you breathe. “melly—”

“i know, mama. you can do it. cum on my face. cum all over me, princess. mess me up, hmm?”

you reach down and she reaches up, instinctively understanding what you’re aching for. just as your fingers intertwine, you fall apart. your arch drops and mel hums, closing her eyes as you squirt over her. she can feel you trembling and she opens her mouth lazily, letting your cum drip into it as if it was some sort of sacred rain.

her fingers lace with yours properly now, no more tentative pinky holds. you grip back with the strength of a soldier at war, your eyes rolling shut as you hump against her face and ride out your high. mel only lets you use her, dragging her other hand down to grope at her throbbing pussy.

eventually, you settle and she tugs you down so that you’re sitting dazed and lax in her lap. her hands squeeze your ass as she noses at your cheek, slipping a light kiss onto your cheek.

"hey. hey, baby, look at me. are you with me?”

“ye—yeah,” you get out. “‘m with you.”

“let’s go upstairs," she says softly, and it's not quite a question. "unless—"

"yes," you interrupt, squeezing her hand. "yes."

mel makes no move to get up, however, and you watch her face.

“melly?”

"i need you to know," she says, a hand coming up to trace your jawline, "that whatever happens next… this isn't just because. this isn't just because we were dancing, or drinking, or—"

"i know," you whisper, even though you don't, not really. but you want to believe. god, how you want to believe.

mel shifts, tilts you so that you’re on your back. her braids have fallen from her signature bun, and they block out the little light spilling in from the window.

“baby, i want you. i love you, i need you, and i can’t—i can’t tell you enough how much i’ve wanted this. nothing matters to me more than you.”

“i know, melly. trust me, i understand.”

she shakes her head, opens her mouth. you lift a hand, dig your nails into the sides of her throat as you clutch at it for just one second.

“i understand.”

it feels like she’s been the only thing on your mind since the day you were born. you’ve been waiting for her ever since.

⚚ wife tag: @s-4pphics

#mine ; 🐎.#mel x you #mel x reader #mel medarda x you #mel medarda x reader #mel medarda x female!reader #mel x female!reader #female!reader #fem!reader #f!reader #arcane smut #arcane fanfic #arcane x y/n #arcane x reader #arcane x female reader #arcane x you #wlw smut #lesbian #sapphic

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softtdaisy · 1 month ago

Note

Congratulations on 2k followers 😊 May you have many more followers to come!

To celebrate, may I please request the song I Won’t Say I’m In Love by Susan Egan with Aaron Hotchner?

https://open.spotify.com/track/03wwl6PnZyltRjeMkxWzUQ?si=BzkUEAyUTTWX8a1w-f__vw

summary. 5 times Hotch almost learned about your crush + 1 time you realized he already knew

words count. 5 358

song. I Won’t Say I’m In Love by Susan Egan

a/n. I never thought this one would be this long but I couldn't resist doing a 5+1 my love for hotch was to strong and I have to thank bee for giving me some of the ideas!! so thank you for your request it was a pleasure doing it and I will you love it 🩷

2K CELEBRATION MASTERLIST

criminal minds masterlist | F1 masterlist | general masterlist| request

1. The staring

“Ok guys,” you put both your hands on the desk to get up. “Don’t be jealous, but I’m done.”

You watched as they looked up with confusion and, well, some kind of jealousy.

“How is it possible?” you heard Emily grumble, trying to type more quickly on her computer. You also didn’t miss the cheating allegations coming from Derek. You laughed at their reaction, collecting the papers you had just printed to complete your file.

“Well, I didn’t sleep on the plane,” you started, pointing at Emily. “Didn’t plan my next date,” you pursued, looking at Derek. “Nor did I play chess with my boss. But I won’t lie; I'm surprised I’ve finished it before you, Spence.”

Especially because you had been a little too interested in that chess game during the flight. It wasn’t your fault. Why did Hotch decide to roll up his sleeves to play? All you could focus on was the veins on his arms or how delicate his fingers seemed with the piece in his hands.

“Run before they get too mad,” you heard JJ say behind you with a laugh. You listened to her advice, took your bag and file, and walked to Hotch’s office.

The door was closed so you couldn’t hear a thing, but you could watch as he walked around his office with his phone in hand. Out of respect, you decided to wait. Of course. And the fact you could appreciate the view was just a reward for your respect. Sure.

Having a crush on your boss wasn’t ideal, you had to confess. You tried to fight it as hard as you could. But you soon realized it was impossible. Every time Hotch entered a room, with his suit always perfectly fitting and his serious expression yet a little and brief smile on his lips when he saw his team and his bossy walk, your heart stopped.

Needless to say, you probably had some commanding kink because you felt something in your chest—and below—anytime he gave you an order.

And seeing him right now, with his tie undone around his neck, was even hotter. You got lost in the view and the idea of relieving the stress of the day for him. You let out a loud sigh right when you heard someone calling you behind you.

“Chief Strauss?” You jumped, turning around to look at her. Yep, having a crush on Hotch was definitely not ideal. Especially when you could get caught so easily.

“What are you doing here, agent?”

“Well, I have to give my file to agent Hotchner, but he’s on the phone, so…” You pointed at him, like it wasn’t obvious.

She stared at you for a second before entering the office anyway. “Aaron, you…” you simply heard before she closed the door again. You mimicked her way of saying his name but stopped when Hotch turned his head to look at you. You blushed and waved at him discreetly.

Two minutes later, Strauss was out of the office, and Hotch opened the door for you. “I’m sorry for making you wait,” he said with a very soft tone and a genuine apologizing smile. There was something so welcoming in the way he kept his arm up to let you walk in and how he watched you, making sure you followed him inside.

You stopped in the middle of the room. “I…just have to give you this actually. The file, I mean.” you said, handing him the folder.

He took it, but you noticed the surprised look on his face. “You did that quickly.” You watched as he leaned against his desk and he flipped through it with an impressive smile. Just before looking at you again. “Good job.”

You bit your lip to avoid saying something you would regret. “Thank you…sir,” you said, with some kind of confident tone that actually made your voice shiver. Hotch looked amused at this but didn’t question it. “I guess I will go now.”

But he didn’t take his eyes out of you while you walked out of his office way more quickly than when you got in.

You heard the team questioning your presence when you walked past them, but you didn’t answer. You needed a cold shower right now.

2. The ride

“I’m fine!” You complained, trying to get up from the stretcher you had been put on.

Hotch gave you a judging look. “You’re bleeding.”

“That means I’m alive!”

Apparently, your argument wasn’t well received. Which, honestly, you could understand. His agent got attacked by the unsub the team was chasing; this usually wasn’t something that made him happy.

Maybe you’ve been inattentive, but you clearly didn’t expect that stupid idiot to stab you in the ribs when you caught him. The pain wasn’t too loud, so you guessed he didn’t touch any organ. Yet, you were still bleeding a lot, and Hotch didn’t hesitate a single second before calling the paramedic.

He put a hand on your shoulder, either to comfort you or to keep you in place—or both. “You’re going to the hospital, am I understood?”

That wasn’t fair, you thought, how he gave you a look you couldn’t say no to. He probably didn’t do it on purpose. But you could see the worry of losing a member of his team in his eyes. They were shiny. Not like he wanted to cry or anything, but like he cared. About you. And that, you could tell from the little hint of softness in it. Or maybe it was from the way his eyebrow frowned, but not in a mean way.

Or maybe you just got lost in his eyes, again, and decided to create your own scenario.

You stopped dreaming when he looked up at the paramedic in front of him. “I’m going with you.”

“What? Why? No,” you complained, trying to get up again. Before being pushed back on the stretcher by Hotch’s hand again. His fingers pressed so hard on your shoulder that you wondered if they would leave a mark. Not that you minded.

“I don’t trust you,” he said with a little laugh. “You will try to run away if I don’t stay with you.”

Hotch didn’t talk to you until you were both in the ambulance and sat next to you. When his head turned, giving instructions to JJ to give to the rest of the team, you noticed the tiredness on his face. You felt bad that because of you he wouldn’t come home until later. Probably wouldn’t get to see Jack tonight.

And with the help of the adrenaline leaving your body slowly, you started to cry. It was one of your sobs that warned him.

“Are you ok? Is something wrong?” He asked, leaning closer to you and looking for an injury he would have missed. But you shook your head.

“I’m sorry you can’t go home to Jack.” You hid your face to cry. But the movement of your arm hurt you even more, so you cried…even more. This was even worse than you thought.

Hotch had a little giggle, one he didn’t control. Because that was definitely not what he expected to hear. Sure, he was a little sad that his son would go to bed before he came home one more time. But that was something he could make up for. Not something that deserved to be cried about, especially not by a member of his team.

He brought his hand closer to your face so he could take one of yours away. “This is my job.” You looked at him with confusion, so he added, “To take care of my team.”

He said that with a bossy tone that pushed away the idea of contradicting him. But mostly, he looked at you directly in the eyes to emphasize how important it was to him. Because it was. He didn’t hesitate a single second to follow you to the hospital to make sure you would be ok. And nothing could explain the terror he had when he heard you scream earlier.

And the idea of being important to him did something to your heart you couldn’t explain. “Oh boy, this isn’t helping,” you sighed for yourself.

Then there was silence.

The confusion grew on Hotch as he didn’t quite understand what you meant by that. He caught the paramedic's look too, who wasn’t sure he heard right. Then Hotch said, “helping for…,” so low that you also missed it out.

But you didn’t. Because it sounded like an alarm warning you, you almost told him about your crush.

“Nothing,” you said with a tired smile, moving your hand like it would erase what you said before. “Thank you for staying, Hotch.”

He didn’t add anything but patted your shoulder nicely. You truly hoped that he would take into consideration your pitiful state to forget your comment.

3. The chart

“Thank you, Penelope,” you said, with a hand on your heart, when you walked into her office.

“You, my friend, are always welcome in my kingdom.”

You laughed at her answer but gladly accepted the chair she had prepared for you.

After the last case and your very nice trip to the hospital, the team went on the field without you. This was for the best for many obvious reasons: you needed to rest, and you would be better here on your computer than being a burden with them.

And you clearly needed to work on your crush for Hotch. You were this close to letting him know about your feelings, and this couldn’t happen again.

You can’t imagine how awful it would have been if your boss learned that you had a fever dream about him. Nope. No way.

“Are you sure I’m not disturbing you?” you asked Penelope again when she sat down. She gave you a judging look, and you put your hands up in defense.

She was the one who offered for you to stay with her during the case. “It would be stupid that we both stay at her office when we could have fun working the case together,” she argued. Which was true; you loved when she was around, and you wouldn’t mind having a little company to forget you weren’t with the team.

Even if you wouldn’t have used the word “fun” to describe your work.

“If you ask this one more time,” she warned you with her fluffy pencil. “I will tell you-know-who about you-know-what.”

You rolled your eyes, already regretting telling Penelope about your stupid crush.

It wasn’t even entirely your fault. When she came to see you at the hospital, you were crying. Because of the medicine, first and foremost. Which made you feel guilty and stupid about the situation with Hotch. You needed a friend and a shoulder to cry on, and when she appeared in your room like the angel you needed, well, you couldn’t keep your words for yourself.

“Fine, you win; I won’t ask anymore.” You laughed nervously. Not really a fan of mentioning the subject in public. Or in private. Or ever, actually.

You started working with your computer on your lap, looking for information about past victims. With the music playing and Penelope basically talking to herself most of the time, you loved the dynamic here.

Until papers fell on your keyboard. You took them in hand, assuming these were about the case, when you saw your birthdate.

And Hotch’s.

“Penelope,” you called her. When you looked up, she was working like nothing happened. Like she didn’t literally put these in front of you seconds ago. “What is that?”

“Ok, listen,” she said suddenly, rolling next to you. She looked way too excited about whatever it was. “After you told me about your crush, I realized that this wasn’t so stupid. You and Hotch would make a great couple.”

“Penelope!” you shouted. Nobody could hear you from this, thankfully. But saying this out outloud was…too real.

She put a hand on your mouth. “Let me finish.” How ironic she was the one shutting you up when you were the one begging her to stop. “I work around your birthdate, your astrological chart, your past, and all that stuff. Tada,” she finished. She put her hand behind the paper to lift them up and bring them closer to your eyes.

“You realized you’re feeding my delusional hopes right here?” You laughed, still refusing to give a look at the paper.

“I’m just helping a friend realize that the crush she has isn’t that stupid.”

“Who has a crush on whom?”

You both jumped hearing Derek’s voice. And when you turned, you noticed the team had appeared on the screen. As much as you loved the automatic answers she had put on her computer when you were away, you kind of hate it right now. Especially with these stupid papers still in hand.

You watched as Emily bent to get closer to the screen. “Are you analyzing some astrological charts? That’s serious business.”

Of course you caught Hotch’s look. And of course you immediately blushed at the thought that he would understand what the hell was going on. Maybe he recognized the pattern; maybe the team was on before you noticed; maybe he heard; maybe… you had to calm down before fainting. Or hitting Penelope, who was biting her lip to not laugh.

So you put the papers away. In your bag. To read them peacefully once you got home.

4. The drink

“To another case done, my friends!” Rossi claimed

You all cheered, bringing your drinks up to toast.

The past week has been pretty rough. LA’s sun couldn’t save your mood from the atrocity you’ve seen there. And the heat clearly didn’t help make this hard. You had a particular aversion to the smell of blood when it gets too hot.

The simple idea almost made you throw up at the bar.

“We need holidays.” Penelope sighed, putting her head on your shoulder in a dramatic movement that made everyone laugh.

She looked directly at Hotch, who brought his hands up in a defensive gesture. “I’d love to give you a break. But it’s not only up to me.”

You all started to discuss what your dream holiday would be right now. Going to Europe, renting a cabin away from the city, spending some time with their kids…

You loved hearing about each other’s needs and wishes. This was what made you a family. If you could find a genie, you would wish to give each member of this team the break they deserve.

And maybe you would also wish to share the holiday with Hotch. Maybe not the one he had planned—because that man clearly needed to spend some time with his son by himself. But the idea of changing towns and having full days together without the pressure of being seen was nice.

Oh, and the idea of getting to know him in private…

“Earth to little sunshine,” you heard Penelope call you, stopping you from dreaming. Which was for the better. Who knew where your brain would have taken you if you kept thinking about it? You couldn’t resist giving Hotch a little look, and you noticed the little smirk on his lips. Did he know you were dreaming about discovering his body?

Penelope showed you the empty glasses in front of you, yours and hers. “Do you want another one?” she asked, offering to order. But you got up before answering.

“I’m getting you a new one,” you said, kissing her hair. You needed to leave this table before reaching for your boss in front of you and letting your dirty thoughts speak.

You laughed, hearing her giving you lovely nicknames and sharing her love for you. The bar wasn’t big enough so you could still hear her when you ordered your drink.

“You seemed like a great person to have your friend compliment you like that.”

You turned around, confused about who was talking to you. And even more surprised when you saw the name standing next to you. Tall and very handsome with a charming smile that leaves you speechless for a second. He offered his hand, telling you his name, but you didn’t quite get it. Lost in the beauty of his eyes and the reality of getting hit on at the bar.

“Yeah, I’m quite like that,” you replied with a laugh before telling him your name too.

You chatted while waiting for your drinks. It was freeing to speak about something not FBI-related, you won’t lie. You enjoyed it for the few minutes you had in front of you. But then you got your drinks and asked, “Do you think I can be lucky enough to have more minutes with you? For a date?”

The way you turned around, ready to go back to your seat, gave you the perfect view to see the man of your dreams. Hotch was talking to Rossi about god knows what but something apparently very funny. You loved the wrinkles around his eyes when he was smiling, how his laugh was so contagious even from afar that you had to fight against your own smile. How he was relaxed in his navy blue shirt, looking like any other man. Well, not any other man. Just not the FBI agent he was.

“I’m sorry, I already have someone in mind.” You simply replied, giving him a sorry smile before going back to your table.

You tried to reconnect with the conversation, but Emily stopped you…and everyone. “Tell me you got this gorgeous man's number in hand.”

“Well, no, I don’t,” you laughed, sitting back. And to the massive Why that escaped the girls’ lips—pretty impressive that they said it together—you had to find an excuse that didn’t involve the man in front of you.

“I just…” You sighed. You clearly wished you could say he wasn’t the one you wanted, but how could you without explaining that Hotch was the one you couldn’t stop thinking about? “I don’t know.”

The next five minutes were followed by everyone around this table giving their arguments on why you should get back to the handsome stranger, get his number, go on a date, and do whatever you wanted to do with him. Hearing how important it was to get laid was not the main subject you expected tonight.

When it was Hotch’s turn, you kind of wished he would tell you that this wasn’t a good idea. Don’t talk to strangers; you’ve seen so many dark cases you should be careful about anything. But he didn’t say any of that. He shrugged with his drink in hand. “Do whatever you want; nobody would blame you if you go on a date with him.”

The following minute went almost silently for you. Sure, everyone around the table kept talking. Everyone but you. And Hotch.

You looked at him with confusion. Maybe something broke in your heart at that moment. But you couldn’t escape a man to fight for you when he didn’t even know about your feelings. When you didn’t even know what he felt for you. It wasn’t fair for you to be mad. Yet you couldn’t resist the feeling growing in your stomach.

You tried to look for one single hint that he meant something else. But Hotch was great at keeping a straight face. His eyes stayed on you, sure, but they didn’t say a thing. His mouth was a straight line, and not for one second did he give you the impression he wanted to say something.

“Fine.”

You gave up. With the applause from the team, you walked to the man’s table.

And agree to go on a date. At least you could pretend this was what you wanted.

5. The date

“You look…exhausted.”

You turned around to look at JJ, who stayed at the kitchen’s door, pretending to be scared to come in. You rolled your eyes, which caused her to laugh. You couldn’t blame her. When you arrived at the bureau five minutes ago, you threw your bag and coat on the desk without saying a single word—maybe making some groans—before walking directly to the kitchen.

You needed a coffee. Or ten.

“That’s an understatement, Jennifer,” you replied, taking a sip of your drink. You even had some headache at the idea of being here after the awful night you had. Why couldn’t you work from home today?

No. Why couldn’t you make better decisions?

“Want to talk about it?” JJ offered after taking a cup of coffee too. She leaned on the counter next to you and gave you a nudge.

You sighed, throwing your head back at the idea of reliving the past hours. But you couldn’t keep it to yourself, or you might explode at some point today.

“I had my date last night. The man was handsome; you saw him, right? He was so hot I couldn’t say no when he asked me out. But he was a pure douchebag. The worst you can imagine, JJ. He made sexist comments all night about me, about my work, about the other women in the restaurant, and it was just…beh,” you said, miming a puking reaction.

You weren’t a date hater. You actually loved the idea of getting ready to go out; the flirting and seducing part was fun, and you were not complaining about how most of them ended. You loved company. The problem was that most of the time, the company wasn’t great enough. You couldn’t even count the number of dates that you left before the end because these men were awful.

A little voice in your head had a lot of fun explaining why you might have a hard time finding great candidates for your heart. Or why you seemed to actually look for men that are the opposite of the one who was on your mind.

“I’m tired of these failed dates, and I decided to give up on love,” you said with a proud voice. “That’s my decision.”

JJ listened to everything. And when you turned your head to look at her, you caught her amused look. She was hiding behind her mug; she was trying to hide something she knew. But you knew that woman way too well, and it didn’t take her long to speak. “And that has nothing to do with a man from here you have a crush on?”

The sigh you let out was so loud you probably made the papers on Spencer’s desk move. “I'm going to kill Penelope.”

Of course JJ laughed at your answer. “It’s not her fault; I wanted to know about the chart thing, and well…you know Penelope. She didn’t say anything, but she showed me a copy of…”

“She had a copy?” you shouted before putting a hand on your mouth, realizing too late that you spoke too loud. You didn’t need the whole team to come over here and learn there were copies of the secret you were trying hard to keep.

Well, not hard enough apparently, since two of them already knew.

You started walking around the room with your coffee in hand. You didn’t need to add that to your problems of the day. But when you looked at JJ, still standing here, you felt comfortable. You had a trusting friendship. She told you about her problems with Will one night away for a case. And made you promise that if you ever needed to, you could call her back.

You didn’t think you would turn to her, but “You’re right,” you mumbled. “This has something to do with him.”

It would be a lie to say you didn’t think about it a lot since this stupid little crush started to grow. You’ve seen Hotch in different and different moments of his life since you arrived. You’ve seen him as a single father; you’ve seen him with Beth. You’ve seen him being amazing with victims and with kids. You’ve heard great stories about him.

And as you felt yourself falling for him, you started to notice even more silly details.

How he always held the door for the others, how he paid attention to the person who’s speaking by looking at them and making sure they felt appreciated. How he remembered what each member of the team liked so he could give them little attention when they had a bad day. You could have cried the day he offered Penelope a figurine she missed from her collection.

“Maybe I romanticized him in my head, JJ, maybe.” You started, putting your mug on the table to get closer to her. “But I’m not totally dreaming about it. There can’t be only one man on this earth like him, right? Why can’t there be more men like…”

“Like who?”

You froze at that voice. That deep voice that you get to hear every everyday at work but also in your dreams at night. You looked at JJ, whose eyes had an apologizing look. You wanted to believe she didn’t see him coming.

When you turned around, Hotch was looking at you with an amused look. There was something so fascinating about how he looked so serious in his look yet had this playful expression on his face. This man loved the situation a little too much. And still he had no idea how implicated he was in it.

“A man from a book I'm reading,” you replied. “Some kind of dark romance. I’m probably crazy reading about this type of stuff with the job we are doing, right? Yeah right.”

You heard JJ’s laugh in your back, and you were pretty sure you saw Hotch trying hard to contain his laugh too. But you didn’t care. Nope. You had to get out of this room before you said something stupid. Or worse.

“See you later, buddies,” you shouted with your coffee back in your hand and ran to your desk. But when you turned around to give them one last look, you saw Hotch’s back bouncing. And that melted your heart, a little. At least you made him laugh today.

You didn’t realize you stayed this long at the bureau until it got dark. And silent.

And you noticed there was absolutely nobody else in the room.

You didn’t mind. You actually loved these moments of calm here. The bureau was always such a crowded place with all its agents and the cases that drove the day. And as much as you loved your job, you had to admit it wasn’t a lighthearted one. So sometimes, it was nice to appreciate the simplest moment.

You were organizing your desk—something you would be very grateful for when you came back on Monday—when you heard the steps of someone walking closer to you. Apparently you weren’t as alone as you thought you were.

“Should I be worried about you doing extra hours?” Hotch asked with a subtle laugh. He put a hand on your desk, and you kind of wished this was the missing piece of decoration you needed to get. Not sure about his reaction if you asked to keep his hand, though.

“It’s for JJ,” you replied. You looked away, a little shy about the reason you stayed over. Not that you were embarrassed, not even a little. You were proud of being a good friend to people on this team. But you didn’t want to sound like you were bragging about it.

But Hotch followed your look, tilting his head so he could see you. You were always so impressed by how he was able to speak with his eyes. Like now, encouraging you with a simple look.

“It’s their anniversary with Will. So I offered to finish her file so she could leave early and enjoy a moment with him.”

You turned around at the same time, not ready to face him. And so you missed the affection in his eyes. He wasn’t surprised about your attention. It wasn’t the first time you did something for someone here without looking for anything in return.

Landing a jacket or a scarf without questioning if you would be cold in return, baking cookies for someone’s parents-in-law, thinking about the birthday gifts and often buying them yourself because you loved wrapping them, and of course staying late to finish files.

All your little gestures grew on him. And if there wasn’t a lot he could do on the professional side to reward you and thank you for them, he knew he had another solution. “We could have dinner, if you want,” he offered.

He bit his lip as he watched you freeze. You were definitely not as smooth as you thought you were about him.

“You deserve it with all the hard work you’re doing for this team,” he added. And he meant that.

You finally faced him again. You couldn’t explain how, but you got the feeling it wasn’t really Hotch in front of you. More of Aaron. The serious posture stayed in the office. Here, he looked more relaxed. Like the other day at the bar. Maybe it was the slightly undone hair or the rolled-up sleeve, or maybe it was the lazy smile that was a sign the workday was over.

And you wondered if this was a good idea. Going out with him when you knew your silly crush could explode at any moment. You didn’t want to make things weird. Not with him. Especially not with him.

So you opened your mouth, ready to refuse his offer for your own good—and his.

But he caught you off guard by saying with an amused tone, “And I heard you have some astrological chart explanation to give me.”

Maybe you died when you heard him. You probably did because you couldn’t see or hear anything for a moment.

Until he laughed. And his sweet and genuine laugh was the thing that brought you back to life.

Yes, you clearly had more than just a stupid crush on your boss at that point.

You sat back on your chair in a very dramatic gesture that made him giggle even more. “You… is there one person in this office who didn’t see that?” You sighed. You can’t believe that this silly joke with Penelope went this far.

You were already thinking about your resignation letter and who you would ask for a recommendation letter. Clearly, Hotch wasn’t an option. So Rossi? Yeah, probably. Strauss wouldn’t do it. Maybe Spencer could…

“Well, it’s the first time I've learned I'm compatible with someone before I get to ask them on a date, so I would have been a fool not to take advantage of it.”

All your thoughts stopped when you heard him. Did you even hear right?

“You’re asking me on a date?” You heard your voice coming up and down, but that was the last of your concerns.

You watched as he grabbed the chair next to him, from Derek’s desk, and sat in front of you.

You watched as one of his hands moved to grab yours. It wasn’t the first time. Hotch was the biggest advocate on how holding someone’s hand was a way of making even more important whatever you were saying.

“Yes, I do,” he replied. Then his smile grew a little bigger, just for a second, before he tried to take a more serious tone back. You could clearly see the glimpse of his prosecutor’s past. “Don’t see this as an arrogant position, but I think you want it too.”

“I’m afraid to ask, but…since when have you been aware of this?”

You could die for this smile. The way his eyebrows were lifted, how the wrinkles in the corner of his eyes were showing a little more, how his cheek looked fuller. There were so many details you loved about Hotch’s smile that you could spend hours looking at it.

And thankfully, that was something he was ready to give you.

“How about we discuss it around dinner?”

Tag List: @kiwriteswords @monzabee @raysmayhem-72 (if you want to be in it, ask me and I’ll be happy to add you x)

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starmaidengarden · 5 days ago

Note

HIIIIII I love your writing so much I’ve only found out about your page recently but you really did impress me! And I specifically loved the cute headcanon and I discovered your page from them so can you please make cute headcanons with Scarabia? XD

𝐟𝐥𝐮𝐟𝐟𝐲 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬 | 𝐒𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐛𝐢𝐚 !

note : thank you so much!! I'm so glad you that you liked them!!

contexts: just some adorable headcanons about the Scarabia boys

— Kalim : Jamil : x gn!reader. no cw/tw. cute headcanons. pt4! Pic: Leo08ph on twt, dividers: uzmacchiato

Kalim Al-Asim ༉⋆｡˚

⭑.ᐟ He crafts exquisite, handmade invitations to various hangouts, even though you see each other every day. Each invitation is uniquely designed, often featuring detailed drawins or personal touches that reflect shared memories. It's as if he believes that every moment spent together, no matter how ordinary, deserves a special reason to celebrate, changing ordinary days into cherished ones.

⭑.ᐟ He has an endearing habit of wanting to hold your hand constantly—literally all the time. Whether you’re strolling down a street, enjoying the peace of a quiet park, or just lounging together on the couch watching a movie, his fingers are always intertwined with yours.

⭑.ᐟ He writes songs about you, pouring his heart into every lyric. Although his voice may be a little off-key, the joy that shines from him makes it impossible not to smile. Each offbeat note carries genuine affection that melts your heart.

⭑.ᐟ No event is too small for him to want you included. If there’s a festival happening nearby, he’s already grabbing your wrist, excitement glimmer in his eyes as he plans your matching outfits. His uncertainty makes even the most ordinary outings feel special.

⭑.ᐟ When it comes to hugs, his are truly something unique. Each embrace is warm and tight, enveloping you completely. You can feel the steady rhythm of his heartbeat against your chest, and in those moments, the world outside fades away, leaving just the two of you.

⭑.ᐟ He even surprises you with food deliveries, accompanied by handwritten notes that say things like, “I thought you might like this! Hope your day is as amazing as you are!” It’s these little gestures that showcase his thoughtfulness and make you feel incredibly special.

Jamil Viper ༉⋆｡˚

⭑.ᐟ When preparing your meals, Jamil always considers your favorites, selecting ingredients that reflect your taste. He packs your lunches with care, often adding little hearts drawn in the corners of the notes, each one a lovely reminder of his love that brightens your day.

⭑.ᐟ Jamil is extremely careful to your well-being. He gently nudges you towards healthier habits with soft-spoken advice—“You didn’t sleep enough again, did you?” His voice is laced with genuine concern, making it clear that he deeply cares about your health and happiness.

⭑.ᐟ when he cooks, he occasionally hums traditional melodies, lost in the rhythm of preparing a meal. It’s a sweet little quirk of his that he’s often unaware of, until you bring it to his attention. When you point it out, he smiles shyly, a hint of embarrassment sneaking into his behavior.

⭑.ᐟ Jamil has an impressive ability to mask his emotions, so much so that he sometimes seems to forget they exist. He carries a calm exterior, but beneath that surface lies a well of feelings that he struggles to express.

⭑.ᐟ However, once he allows you a glimpse into his inner world, it’s a profound experience. He becomes incredibly intense and protective, his demeanor shifting to reflect a deep emotional connection. Soft-spoken yet emotionally charged, he reveals a side of himself that is rich and complex.

⭑.ᐟ You comfort him after he burns out from taking care of everyone but himself? You find yourself comforting him after he’s exhausted from taking care of everyone else but himself, his vulnerability glistening in the moments of honesty.

⭑.ᐟ Cuddling in his room—a safe space filled with the remnants of his dreams and a few scattered fears—he finally opens up about pursuing those aspirations. You listen as he lays bare his thoughts, the weight of his ambitions mingling with his apprehensions, and in those intimate moments, you realize just how deeply he feels.

#twisted wonderland #twst #twst wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #twst headcanons #twst x reader #kalim al asim #kalim al asim x reader #kalim x reader #jamil viper #jamil viper x reader #jamil x reader #twst kalim #twst jamil

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drtyelvisfantasy · 2 months ago

Text

SAVE YOUR LOVE

LINEMAN!RAFE X STRIPPER!READER AU

note: this is my first one-shot for this AU so I hope you all enjoy it. please feel free to give any feedback. please reblog and like this post, I also suggest you read this post to get more information about Rafe and the reader. enjoy <3

summary: Rafe doesn't like it when you bring up his family

warnings: angst, mentions of sex but nothing explicit, mentions of domestic violence, infidelity, Rafe being an asshole, biggg age gap, manipulation, let me know if I am missing anything!!

the reader is 19 and Rafe is probably in his late 30s

Rafe let out a contented sigh from the comfort of the hotel bed, his shirt lying around the room, exposing his muscled chest for me to see. This was our routine every time Rafe came down to Las Vegas for "work." He would come to the club to watch me dance, we'd make love in the hotel room, and then we'd lay there in silence as shame and guilt ate us alive.

He watched me with his intense blue eyes as he sat against the headboard, lazily smoking a cigarette, never breaking eye contact. This time, he was in no rush to leave—he had already booked the hotel room for a couple more days.

"When are you leaving?" I asked, a touch of sadness in my voice.

Rafe took another drag of his cigarette, blowing out a cloud of smoke as he smirked—amused that I even had the nerve to ask, as if I wanted him gone.

"I booked the room for two more days," he replied, his Southern accent laced with irritation.

"Oh," I said, shocked. Usually, when Rafe came to visit, he only stayed for a day before leaving. It was rare for him to stay longer.

Rafe's eyes roamed over my body, appreciating the way my silk robe hugged my curves, the soft flesh that was left bare exposed. His fingers twitched, his patience thinning, and he took another deep puff from the cigarette to calm himself.

"Um… I have to ask you something," I said hesitantly.

"What is it?" Rafe replied, but this time, his tone carried a hint of annoyance.

"Are you ever gonna leave Sofia?"

Rafe's irritation was instant. This was a conversation he refused to have. He flicked the ash off his cigarette and took a long, deep drag before answering.

"This again? Damn it, I told you to stop bringing her up."

His voice was sharp, annoyed, yet somehow still calm. Rafe knew better than to raise his voice at me.

"I'm sorry—" I started, but he cut me off.

"Why do you always have to bring her up? You know I don’t wanna hear her name."

His tone grew harsher, his grip on the cigarette tightening. He avoided looking at me, staring up at the ceiling instead. He didn’t want to think about his wife and children—not while he was here with me.

"Well, you said you’d leave her for me, that we could have a family and—"

Rafe cut me off again, his irritation quickly turning into anger.

"Quit it. I never said anything about leaving her and starting a family with you. You're being delusional if you think that."

"You said it, Rafe. You told me—"

"No, I didn’t. You’re imagining things."

Rafe’s voice was low, his patience wearing thin. He stubbed out the cigarette with more force than necessary.

"I may have said that I love you. I may have whispered stupid, sentimental shit when we're in bed together, but I have never, ever said I’d leave my wife for you."

I sat there on the bed, looking stupid—helpless, even. I always felt bad for making Rafe upset like this. He sighed and ran a hand through his hair, pushing it back from his face, frustration evident in his movements. He was growing tired of this conversation, and it was quickly killing his mood.

"Why do you keep bringing it up? Why can't you just be happy with what we have? I thought you loved me too, but here you are, getting all emotional and clingy."

Rafe was right. Why couldn’t I just be happy with the time we had together? But the thought of sharing him with another woman ate me alive. He got to go home to a beautiful house, a loving wife, and children—while I was left here, searching for happiness in any man who showed me the slightest bit of attention.

"I do love you, I really do. I just want us to be happy—" I pleaded, trying to ease the tension in the room.

Rage flared up inside Rafe, his fists clenching as though he wanted to punch a wall.

"Stop it! Just stop it, damn it! I don’t want to be reminded of my family when I’m here with you! They are irrelevant and have nothing to do with this—nothing to do with us!"

"I’m sorry," I whispered, tears threatening to spill from my eyes.

Rafe ran a hand over his face, trying to calm himself. He took a deep breath and let out a frustrated sigh.

"You should be. You know how sick it makes me feel when you bring them up? I don’t want to remember them when I’m with you. I only want to think about you. Isn’t that enough?"

"Yes, Rafe. It is."

Rafe studied me closely, his gaze softening slightly. He hated when things got like this, hated the tension and hurt he saw in my eyes. With a sigh, he held out his hand, gesturing for me to come closer.

"Come here."

I eagerly crawled into Rafe’s lap and started to cry.

"You know I hate fighting with you, baby…" he whispered, his breath warm against my skin as his fingers traced lazy circles over my hip.

"I do too."

Rafe's grip tightened, his hand sliding up my body, his touch possessive. He brought his lips to my neck, placing soft kisses along my skin.

"Then promise me—promise me you’ll never bring up my wife and kids again. Just keep them out of your pretty little head when I’m here with you, yeah?"

"Okay… I promise," I murmured softly.

Rafe nipped at my neck, his teeth grazing my skin gently before sucking on the sensitive spot there, his hands roaming my body.

"Good girl…" he murmured against my skin, his voice thick with desire.

We made love that night.

This was the continuous cycle every time Rafe was with me. No matter how many times we argued, or when he left a handprint on my face, I always ran back to him—because the thought of being alone would forever haunt me.

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