#a whole other dea

[asteroidaffection]

taking hit after hit today and none of the good kinds

[thanakite]

Apparently DEA agents can unnecessarily hit people with cars and not face any repercussions for doing so as long as they are "working" when it happens

-_-

[fl3shm4id3n]

ii think I'm dyinggg plz do smut w/ 388 where he talks uuu through itttt

WHO SAID THAT

-Also can I be this anon if u do those ☄️

ɢᴇɴᴛʟᴇ

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: 𝐘𝐨𝐮'𝐯𝐞 𝐚𝐥𝐰𝐚𝐲𝐬 𝐛𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐬𝐡𝐲, 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐭𝐞 𝐨𝐩𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐛𝐨𝐲𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝 𝐰𝐡𝐨 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐦𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐬𝐨𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐥 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐤𝐧𝐨𝐰. 𝐇𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲 𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐝 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐥𝐞, 𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲 𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐥𝐞.

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: ᴋᴀɴɢ ᴅᴀᴇ-ʜᴏ x ꜰᴇᴍ! ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

Tw: SMUT, Dae Ho is a soft dom and very sweet, kissing/ soft make out session, eating out, slight hair pulling, missionary, back scratching, protected sex (if you're gonna get silly, wrap your willy), reader on the pill, aftercare, fluff.

A/N: Of course you can be my ☄️anon :D

Masterlist

ʙᴇꜰᴏʀᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ɢᴏ ᴀɴʏ ꜰᴜʀᴛʜᴇʀ, ᴛʜɪꜱ ɪꜱ ɴꜱꜰᴡ/ꜱᴍᴜᴛ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ, ɪꜰ ʏᴏᴜ ᴡɪꜱʜ ᴛᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ʀᴇᴀᴅ, ꜱ��ᴇᴅᴀᴅᴅʟᴇ, ɪꜰ ʏᴏᴜ ᴡɪꜱʜ ᴛᴏ ᴘʀᴏᴄᴇᴇᴅ, ᴛʜᴇɴ ʀᴇᴀᴅ ᴀᴛ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴏᴡɴ ʀɪꜱᴋ.

That evening, you had just got home. You took off your shoes in the doorway and placed your purse down on the table. You then headed to your bedroom. You saw that Dea Ho was in already in bed, asleep. You then began to change into change into your nightgown. Then you went to the bathroom to remove your makeup and do your skin care. Afterwards, you were done. You then headed to your bedroom.

As you lifted the covers and laid down on your side. You noticed how Dae Ho then got up from his current position and turned his body to face you. His arm quickly wrapped itself around you then pulled you so that you could lay down. Before you could properly react, Dae Ho processed to kiss you on the lips. You attempted to push him away, but you began to submit to his lips. His other arm went under you, holding your back and deepened the kiss.

His hand then snaked up to your chest, softly grabbing your breast and giving it a squeeze. You moaned softly against his lips. Then finally after some time, Dae Ho finally pulled away and then kissed your forehead. "I missed you." He admitted. "I thought you were asleep." You said, as you tried to catch your breath. "I can never go to sleep until you arrive." You said, kissing your forehead again. "How was work." He asked, while he looked down at you. "It was boring, super slow." You responded, while Dae Ho gently caressed your thighs. Listening to you. "I know what'll make you feel better." He said, with a small smile. You knew what that was.

Dae Ho carefully lifted your nightgown, then pulled it over your head. Leaving you completely naked, you didn't even wear underwear. He then got odd the bed, then pulled your legs. Dragging you down toward the end. He then got on his knees, placing your thighs over your muscular shoulders. He got a good grip on hips. He then drove down and gave your slightly wet folds a huge lick. You gasped and flinched. "So good." Dae Ho said softly, then processed to suck clit softly. Your back arched, and moved your arms over your head, slightly gripping onto the bed sheets.

He continued to lick and suck, taking his time with you. "Mmm... You taste so good." He groaned, as he continued to suckle on your folds. You whined, then you ran your hand down your body, all the way down and gently tugged at his hair. He moaned softly against your folds. He used his fingers to spread your pussy lips a bit more and licked you much more. You couldn't help but squeeze your thighs around head. Slowly, you felt how Dae Ho's tongue inserted inside you. "Dae Ho!" You moaned as your back arched, your toes curled as he licked your spongy insides. You bucked your hips, feeling how his nose brushed up against your clit.

Dae Ho pulled away to take breather, your juices and his saliva were connected to his lips. He licked his lips, taking in your taste. He quickly drove back down, taking your whole pussy into his whole mouth. His nose rubbing against your throbbing clit. "Ahh!" You moaned loudly, gripping harder onto his hair for dear life. It was like a switch had gone off in his head. He was licking all the rights spots. Making your whole body shake. You clenched your legs even more, he was nearly suffocating between your legs, but he didn't mind. He'd die a happy man if he went out between your tights.

He pulled away again, this time he was breathing a bit faster. Both his saliva and juices were on his chin. He leaned down one again, then gave your clit a small kiss. He got up and took off his shirt, then boxers. His cock sprung up, erect and precum leaking from tip. He leaned over to the night stand and took out a condom. He opened the small packet with his teeth carefully, then pulled out the rubber. He rolled the condom down his cock. It was a perfect fit. He always wore a condom when it came to sex. Even though you've told him that you were on the pill, he wanted to be safe. He was very responsible.

Dae Ho then lifted your legs, placing your calves on his muscular chest and your ankles were on his shoulders. Carefully, he thrusted inside your tightness. You bit your bottom lip softly and screwed your eyes shut as he stretched you out, carefully. As he carefully moved his hips. He kissed your ankles, softly. He then wrapped his arms around his your legs, holding them close to your body. "Oh! You're doing great." He moaned, sweat began to build up on his forehead. "So, good." He said, almost whining. He shut his eyes, tightly. His breathing quickened and so did his pace.

You whined loudly, throwing your head back as his pace quicken. "Please.." You moaned, he opened his eyes and looked at you. "Please what? Talk to me." He said, in a breathy voice. You couldn't form your sentence, so you just moved your hand down to your throbbing clit. "Oh. That's what you want?" He asked, then he reached down and processed to rub your clit with his thumb. He put light pressure and rubbed your clit. Your whole body flinched as you felt his thumb rubbing your clit. It felt good, you loved it. He knew you loved it.

Dae Ho continued to thrust even more fast. "That's it!" He moaned, still rubbing your clit. Feeling how your walls clenched around him tightly. He then spread your legs and placed them around his waist. Then leaned his body down, against yours. You took this as an opportunity and placed your hands onto his lap. Gripping onto him. Digging your nails onto his back. He continued his thrusts, except they became sharper and more harsh. It made your body slightly bounce due to his hard thrusts. "Fuck! That's-" He tried to say, but quickly stopped. Still thrusting and rubbing your clit.

You cried out, as your dragged your nails down his back. That made him thrust in you even more. "Dae Ho!" you whined his name. He leaned down and captured your lips into a loving kiss. Almost distracting you from the pleasure. As you kissed him, his thrusts became even more tense. He was literally hammering against you. It made you feel dizzy, your eyes rolled at the back of your head at this point. Your body was weakening, your legs began to numb. Out of nowhere, you felt your orgasm hit you like a ton of bricks. You saw a bunch of stars and little lights.

As you came, so did Dae Ho. He came into the condom. He leaned his forehead against yours. Both of you weak and out of breath. After a few moments of catching his breath. He carefully leaned up and looked down at you. "Are you okay?" He asked you, while you nodded as best as you could. "Yeah." You said as you tried to recover. He smiled, then kissed your forehead and carefully pulled out of you. He then picked you up bridal style and moved you to your spot on the bed. "I'll be back." He said, kissing your cheek. Then he went to the bathroom.

After a bit, he came back out. He was back in his boxers, he had also brought back a wet cloth. He sat down on the bed next to you, then carefully cleaned the mess on your thighs. When he was done, he threw the cloth in the laundry basket. He then climbed in bed, lying on his side. Next to you. Like always, you wrapped your arm around his waist and moved closer to him. Burying your face in his warm chest. You grabbed the thick cover and threw it over himself and you. He cuddled up close to you. Both bodies warmed each other, the silence was comfortable and enjoyable. Dae Ho gave you another kiss on the forehead, before closing his eyes.

[milla-frenchy]

The hounds of hell 3

Written with @aurorawritestoescape

2k2 | Javier Peña x fem reader x Steve Murphy | ao3 Summary: Javi and Steve can’t keep their hands off you. Even when you sleep. Even in the morning Warnings: dubcon somnophilia (reader fell asleep and didn't consent to it), threesome, rough sex, degradation, dirty tak, praise kink, size kink, dvp, fingering, some m/m action, creampies. No age specified

a/n: thanks for the love on this series 🙏 It's been a while since we've seen our two DEA agents, but Kate and I were really happy to play with them again. We have a fourth and final part planned. This part takes place right after part 2, we hope you’ll like it ❤️

@aurorawritestoescape, baby girl, writing with you always makes things easy 🫶💕 @toxicanonymity we love you 🫶🖤🐨 dividers @saradika-graphics 🙏

Kate's masterlist | Milla's masterlist | series masterlist | part 2

Javi woke up in the middle of the night. He was hard. So fucking hard. His hand was cupping your breast, his cock snuggly against your ass. He thought about the evening before, how Steve and him fucked you. They railed you so good. Filled you full with their cum. 

It wasn’t as wild as the first time, when they had spread your cunt with their two cocks, leaving you cockdumb like a good little drunk fuckdoll. But still, yesterday you took it good. Fucking good. 

He smirked. As soon as he had seen you dance that first night at the bar, swinging your ass in front of him, he had known you’d want to take their cocks. No need to get you drunk for that, but well… they wanted to have fun.

Now you were still sleeping, in Steve’s arms, one leg wrapped around him. Seemed like you really liked climbing him. 

But right that moment Javi just wanted to stick his dick in your cunt. To stick it really nice and deep. So he squeezed Steve’s arm, and as soon as his partner woke up and saw Javi’s look, a carnal smile twisted his lips. 

It took Steve seconds to get hard too. He breathed in your hair, your face buried in his neck, as you were sleeping peacefully. Unaware of what was about to happen. Javi nodded at his partner impatiently, and Steve placed his hand over your mouth, without pressing on it for now. He didn't want to wake you up before Javi filled you with his whole length. He wanted to feel your body tense, your breath hitch. 

Javi gripped Steve’s thigh for leverage, his other hand wrapped around his cock. He didn't take the time to brush his tip against your folds, didn't try to cover it with the cum that was still flowing from your hole. He thrusted in and bottomed out in one go, growling against your neck. You woke up instantly, your surprised whimper muffled by Steve's hand, now pressed over your mouth.

“Shhh… let us use you, baby.”

You tried to understand where you were, tried to regain your senses, hearing Steve's voice. You were in Javi's apartment where you had fallen asleep. And… Javi was lying behind you, fucking your sore cunt. As soon as you remembered everything, you moaned, already turned on by how they were using you, even when you were asleep. Your wetness flowed, covering Javi's cock, and Steve removed his hand.

“Rise and shine, little slut”, Javi growled in your ear, then grabbed your arm and placed it behind your back. He pulled away slightly, watching his glistening cock sink into your cunt in the moon light.

“Always so tight, even when we streched you all night. Even full of our cum,” he growled, spreading you deliciously. “We really can do whatever we want with you, mmm?”

Steve leaned in and kissed you, his moustache brushing against your lips, his big hands cupping your cheeks. You moaned into his mouth, tongues licking at each other, while Javi was still pounding in, grunting in your ear.

“She’s drippin’. Putita,” Javi gritted through his teeth and then pulled out. “Your turn. Fuck her.”

Steve lifted your thigh to open you up more, grabbed his cock and replaced Javi’s in your already sore hole. You whimpered as he slammed into you, before pumping into you relentlessly. Javi pulled you towards him, making you face Steve fully, who was stammering “fuck, baby…” continuously, his eyes fixed on yours. Drunk with the pleasure of his cock sliding into your pussy.

They were using your barely awake body as a fleshlight. A fuck doll. Javi’s cock slid between your thighs, and he started to hump you, rubbing himself between your legs and against Steve’s balls.

“Fuck,” he grunted before snaking his hand between Steve’s body and yours. Javi seized the other man’s cock and began jerking his shaft while only the tip was buried in you. Steve’s head tilted back in pleasure.

“Shit, Javi….”

“Don’t move, stay like that, just the tip in her…” he ordered.

You were breathless. Javi jacking Steve off while he was inside you was the hottest thing you’d ever experienced. Their way of using you was always so wild and filthy. 

Steve wrapped his hand around the back of Javi's neck and held onto it, his eyes fixed on him above your shoulder, feeling the warmth of Javi's hand on his cock, and his dick brushing against his balls. You felt yourself like an object. Something they used to get off with, and it was turning you on insanly. 

Then Steve looked at you and smiled. With his damn mischievous smile, that made you gush even more. 

“Fuck her with me, Javi. She’s drippin’.”

“ ‘Course she is. Always fucking soaked. Always ready to take our cocks. Right, little slut?”

“Shit… yeah… yeah.”

“I'm surprised you can still talk. But that's alright. In 2 minutes you'll be cock dumb again.”

“Fuck,” you managed to murmur. He wasn't wrong, and you didn’t even want to pretend otherwise. Taking them was too good.

“Is that right, baby? You’re gonna be on cloud 9, as soon as you're full of us?”

You nodded, waiting for them to do whatever they wanted to you.

Steve slowed down when Javi pressed his tip against his partner's cock, and used it to slide into your sloppy entrance. You whined when he pushed in and you squeezed Steve's shoulder, biting your lip. Even though your pussy was already stretched, even though you were still leaking their cum, welcoming them both, spreading you wide open, was a whole different thing. And like the first time they had fucked your cunt with their two dicks you weren't sure you could take them. You whimpered louder when Javi kept pushing.

“Shut her up,” Javi growled, still thrusting in, and Steve placed his big hand over your mouth to silence you, pressing the back of your head against Javi. You widened your eyes when Javi's fat tip spread your walls, your cry muffled by Steve’s palm. 

“You're gonna do it. Already did, right?” Steve said. You nodded, trying to relax and to make it easier. 

“Come on, let me in. Fuck, yeah! Just like that, good girl,” Javi praised you, when his whole shaft joined his partner’s soaking cock inside you.

“Shit, yeah, that’s it,” he growled, pushing Steve's palm away to hear your moans. He slid his hand down to your clit, his sweaty chest pressed against your back. “Now…you’re gonna come on our cocks. I wanna hear you whine and moan.. feel you clench on us.”

His finger twirled over your swollen clit, just like you needed it to make your climax rise. The slight pain was still there, but it was so insignificant compared to the heat and the sensations you were feeling. To the music of their groans filling the bedroom.

“You’re gonna be a good girl for us, baby? Shit… she’s gripping our dicks so hard.”

Steve’s hands were on your hips, using them to thrust in. Sometimes at the same pace as Javi, sometimes one after the other.

“Shit… you’re so hot baby. I’m gonna…”

“No! Not yet. Not before she comes.”

Their way of behaving, so different from each other, was turning you on since the beginning. Steve loved to praise you, hug you, you felt protected in his arms. Even if it could seem strange, considering your first night together. Javi was… wild. Elusive, degrading. Bossy. And since the first day, their “good cop, bad cop” dynamic was making you crazy.

“That’s it, putita. Come on, come for us. Don’t be shy, we already know what a slut you are.”

“Fuck, fuck… gonna come… gonna come,” you panted, feeling your orgasm building, until you began pulsating on their cocks, moaning.

“Fill her up now, Steve. Soak us,” Javi commanded, his hands now clinging to your waist, chasing his own climax.

“Oh fuuuuuck…” Steve moaned, just before he started spilling his cum into you, his cock twitching against Javi’s who exploded soon after, his lips pressed against your neck. You already knew you’d have a hickey the next day. 

Their growls echoed through the room, both holding on to your body, thrusting until their cocks and balls were fully milked.

When you woke up in the morning, the bed was empty. You smelled coffee, heard low voices coming from another room. You got up and went to the bathroom first. Your thighs were sticky and you were still dripping their cum. 

Then you put on someone’s shirt, lying on the chair, and went to find your lovers. 

Steve greeted you with a wide smile and Javi looked you up and down when you padded into the kitchen. 

“Morning, baby. We thought you’d sleep in… wanted to leave you a note before leaving,” Steve said with a playful smile and pulled you onto his lap. 

They were both wearing shirts and jeans, probably ready to head to work. 

“I smelled coffee,” you explained and immediately  melted against him when he pinched your chin and turned your head to give you a long soft kiss. Your back was pressed to his chest, his big arms wrapped around your waist holding you close. You whimpered when his hand slid down to your pussy and he gently cupped your folds. 

“Still wet,“ he smirked against your lips and you smiled back shyly. 

“Of course she’s wet. She’s been taking huge loads all evening and night,” Javi chuckled. You turned away from Steve and saw the other man standing next to you two, placing a fresh cup of coffee on the table. Then he bent over and kissed you. His lips were gentle, but his tongue possessively pushed between your lips. Steve softly laughed and began kissing the side of your neck, still holding you and cupping your pussy. 

Trapped between the men you were on the seventh heaven, smelling their cologne, relishing their taste on your tongue. You felt your pussy clench and gush into Steve’s warm palm. He took a sharp breath and murmured against your neck,

“Fuck, baby, your pussy’s crying into my hand. Javi, check her out.”

You didn’t know if Steve was talking about you or your sloppy cunt and you gasped when he took Javi’s hand and brought it between your thighs. They both started touching your folds, sliding their thick fingers between them and gathering the evidence of the previous night mixed with your fresh arousal.

“Putita’s gonna drip all over your jeans, Steve,” Javi smirked as he pushed his middle finger into your overflowing hole. 

“Fuck it. She’s so hot.”

You bit your lip at the mixture of praise and degradation and dropped your head to watch them play with your pussy. Soon the room got filled with your loud moaning and whimpering as Steve was drawing tight circles over your puffy clit, while Javi was pumping two fingers in and out of your drooling entrance. His other hand was pulling and twitching your hardened nipples under the open shirt. 

”Come for us, baby, give us one more,” Steve whispered against your temple when you rested your head on his shoulder. If he wasn’t holding you you’d surely fall on the floor, that’s how gone with pleasure you were. 

Javi’s face was hovering over yours as his fingers were working your pussy, his dark eyes taking in every sign of your ecstasy. 

“Mírate (look at you), little slut, can’t even have her morning coffee without getting fucked.”

You fluttered your eyes open and gave him a hazy smile. He cursed and his lips crashed against yours. Steve was nuzzling your cheek and then his lips traveled to your mouth too and the three of you started kissing. Your tongues danced against each other with passion and hunger and you were happy to taste them both at the same time while their hands were bringing you closer to the release. 

It didn’t take long before you began shaking in Steve’s arms, coming hard from your clit and g-spot being stimulated, clamping on Javi’s fingers and drenching their hands with your juices. 

Steve was talking you through it, his voice low and gruff in your ear, “Yes, yes, beautiful— like that— I’m here, I’ve got you—let it go.”

Javi kept kissing you, swallowing all your cries. He parted from your lips only when your walls stopped clenching on his digits and you relaxed in Steve’s embrace. 

Javi plopped in his chair and adjusted himself before taking a sip of his coffee. Through half lidded eyes you saw a huge bulge in his jeans and felt Steve’s cock stiff and big under your ass cheek. 

“You’re both so hard. Let me suck you off,” you offered with a breathy voice but Steve kissed your cheek and croaked, “Believe me, we’d want nothing else right now…but we’re already late.”

He kissed you and helped you to get up and sit on the chair next to him. 

“We’ll jerk off at lunch. Thinking about what we did to you this morning,” he smiled and gave you a wink. Your legs were still trembling from the orgasm but your slutty clit twitched when you heard his words. Javi got up and cupped your cheek. 

“Get some rest, hermosa. Gracias for the night and for this hard on,” he smirked before looking at Steve and motioning for them to get going. 

Steve quickly finished his coffee. “Close the door on your way out. We’ll call you, baby.”

Then he gave you a goodbye kiss and they left. 

Thank you for reading 🙏

Comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated ❤️

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[darkmatilda]

╰┈➤ HALLOWEEN TRADITION

in which one you and reid match your outfits every year for halloween

tw: mention of shoo!ing, dea!h of an animal

contents: spencer reid x fem!reader, they're both obviously in love with each other, time skips

words: 7.5k

a year ago

“Oh, I already ordered. Caramel cappuccino, almond milk, double amount of vanilla syrup and cinnamon sprinkled on top, am I right?

“Your photographic memory is sometimes just terrifying”

“Thank you. By the way, are you still afraid to order this coffee in front of Rossi?”

“Yep. I always take regular macchiato. The last thing I need in work is his judgemental, Italian look…”

Meanwhile, as Reid let out a short laugh, you quickly took in your surroundings: the brick walls and oak tables, the decorative pumpkins by the entrance, and the menu hanging above the barista’s counter, adorned with (artificial) leaves. Just like every corner of this trashy coffee shop was trying to remind you about autumn.

 One thing about you — you were an extreme autumn lover, who unfortunately was allergic to pumpkins, so you couldn’t fit the autumn white girl stereotype completely, by ordering a pumpkin spice latte. And you would rather die than wear a sweater. All of them were scratchy. 

“So” started Reid, hitting a notebook cover with a pen. "I spent all of last evening and more than half of this morning writing down ideas for our Halloween costume this year. I made sure none of them were too similar to our last year's outfits or anything our friends have ever worn to make sure we’ll be the best-dressed people at the party”

“God, Reid, you really took it seriously this year” you raised your eyebrows, shocked and full of admiration at the same time. “And how many ideas did you find?”

“143”

“143?!” you repeated, assuming that he was just joking. Spencer was looking at you with a deadly serious face. “Are fucking crazy? How are we going to choose between 143 ideas? I can’t even choose what socks to wear in the morning…”

“144” he corrected. “When you were saying that I came with another one, Tyler and Marla from Fight Club…”

You had this tendency to forget the names of fictional characters (though, somehow, you could name every American serial killer who ever existed and everyone from your high school class. It was both funny and slightly terrifying that, in two cases, those names overlapped) so it took you a moment to realize who Reid was talking about.

“A guy with a red leather jacket? And this woman who was always smoking?”

“Their names are Tyler Durden and Marla Singer. I don't mean to sound rude, but you made me watch this movie and claimed it was one of your favorites, yet you don’t even remember the main characters' names?"

You shrugged your shoulders. You could say nothing in your defense, that was just the way you were. A subtle smile danced on your lips.

“When I started working with you” you meant the whole BAU “I couldn’t remember all of your names. About two months later I slowly started to recognize them because of how you were addressing each other but because everyone was calling Hotch by his surname I didn’t know his actual name for, like, years…”

Disbelief showed on Spencer’s face but then got replaced with amusement.

“Years?”

“Don’t you dare laugh at me because of my memory problem, mrs. I know the moon signs of everyone around me…”

He raised his hands in a defensive gesture.

“How could I dare, ms. I don’t remember my boss's name even though we’ve been working together for five years…”

“I couldn’t remember it back then! Shame on you, Reid. I shared my secret with you and you immediately started laughing…”

“And what did you want me to do? Make you an appointment with a neurologist?” 

That's what our usual conversation looked like. Like a professional ping pong game. Year after a year, month after a month, day after a day you were just becoming better and better players. 

Waitress came along your table, setting your orders on the table. You always had to smell your coffee first, cinnamon aroma ticked your nose. 

“"Not that it means anything, but my memory problems have worsened since I met you." you said, taking the first sip of a coffee. 

“What do you mean by that?“

“Well, I don’t have the need to remember anything when you remember literally everything that comes your way. You've spoiled me a bit in this regard."

Spencer smiled softly, with a little bit of pride, caused by your words. 

“ Always at your service”  he declared. Suddenly his back went straight, as he probably reminded himself about something. ”Did you call your brother today? It’s his birthday… 

“ No way” you jumped on your seat and immediately started looking for your phone to check what day it was. 14 October. “God, Reid you’re right. I completely forgot…Have I already told you how much I love you? 

You standed up, ready to leave the coffee, declaring that you’ll be back in a moment. People around were having their lunch. The whole place became too noisy for a birthday phone call with your older brother, who lived in a different state. 

“Not today” He replied shortly. 

“So, I’m telling you now, Spence. You’re the best friend I could ever imagine…”

As you were busy with dialing the right phone number and trying to wear your coat at the same time, you couldn’t see how his smile faded after the last sentence. 

a week later

“It cost me like half of my salary” You said, tossing your dark hair back so it wouldn't accidentally catch fire while lighting the candle. A damn expensive candle, as you mentioned. “Another half goes for that little shit”

With a nod, you indicated the ginger cat that had already settled comfortably next to Spencer. He didn’t take his eyes off the laptop screen, checking something with a furrowed brow. With one hand, almost automatically, he gently scratched Mr. Cinnamon Roll behind the ear.

“It’s made only with fully natural ingredients. Vegan friendly. People with migraines friendly. Almost everyone friendly, except of your wallet” You continued your speech, agitated, recalling the guy in the store who refused to sell you a simple, cheap autumn candle, explaining its poor quality, and convinced you to buy the most expensive one he had.

Finally, the wick caught fire.

“So, you’ve got something?“

It was a late evening after work when you both felt exhausted, yet you decided to meet at your apartment to search online for essentials for your Halloween costumes. The idea of going as a couple from Fight Club had won.

You were supposed to be Marla, and he was to be Tyler. You weren’t a couple or anything like that, but for the past five years, it had been your tradition to wear matching outfits for the halloween party organized by your team. Usually, various other friends would join, and having more people allowed for a best costume contest, which you nearly won every year.

“Yeah, but you probably won't like that, considering that you’ve just confessed to spending your entire paycheck”

You set the candle down on the small coffee table in your living room and joined him on the couch, almost crushing Mr. Cinnamon Ball. He didn’t look offended by that — this cat would rather be crushed than leave Spencer’s side. Somehow, he loved him more than the hand that fed him. 

Sitting so close to your friend, your head nearly touched his shoulder, but neither of you minded.You had known each other for four years. You met regularly to watch movies or just to chat, and more than once, you had fallen asleep with your head resting on his arm, that was way more comfortable than any pillow. The rest of your team sometimes joked about your close relationship, but in your opinion, it was only because you were almost the same age! And maybe a bit because you felt the most comfortable in his presence, you understood each other the best, and he made you laugh the most…

For God's sake, why did you start thinking about that at that moment? When you were so close to each other and his gentle scent was slowly enveloping you...

Okay, you’ve thought of him as more than just a friend once or twice. Like that time he stayed over at your place, and you didn’t want him to sleep on the uncomfortable couch, so you shared your bed. You felt so good waking up next to him and regretted that it was just a one-time experience…

You realized he must have said something to you, but you were too lost in thought to hear it.

Instead of repeating himself, Reid pushed the laptop closer to you. On the screen was a website featuring an auction for….the original red leather jacket from Fight Club! You almost screamed. If you had won her over, the victory would have to be yours...

Your enthusiasm faded like a blown-out candle when you saw the final bid amount. 

“What the fuck? That's more than the total of our annual salaries…” 

 "Actually, it’s twenty thousand less than..."

You both fell silent in disappointment. Then, a very silly idea came to your mind.

“Reid” you started slowly. 

“"Oh no, I know this tone. You're either about to say something extremely absurd or something inappropriate, and I don’t know which one scares me more."

 "But listen. We'll wait for the auction to end and for someone to buy that jacket. Then we’ll talk to Garcia and convince her to track down the buyer. We'll go, knock on the door, and when they open it..."

"We’ll politely ask to borrow it?"

"No, sweet boy, we’ll show our badges and say the auction was illegal, and we need to confiscate the jacket."

Spencer burst out laughing.

"Your ideas are brilliant. But how are you going to explain this to Hotch afterward?"

“He won’t find out”

“He find out”

“Okay, you’re right. He’ll probably find out”

A silence full of smiles fell between you.

Spencer closed the auction page and started browsing something else when you let out a laugh at your own thoughts. 

“Okay, I have another idea that won’t cost either of us our jobs,” you said, capturing his attention. He tore his gaze away from the laptop and focused completely on you and your trembling lips, which hinted that you weren’t going to say anything serious “The beginning of the plan sounds the same but instead of showing our badges, you’ll give him a blowjob… “

“Fuck you!” he shouted, unable to stop himself from laughing. At the sight of his expression, a wave of laughter hit you so hard that Mr. Cinnamon Roll jumped off the couch and ran away from his sick owner. “I’m not giving any random guy a blowjob in exchange for a jacket. In exchange for the original diaries of Einstein, well, I wouldn’t say no; I would think about it, but not for a jacket!”

“But it’s the jacket from Fight Club, Spence. Brad Pitt was wearing it” you encouraged him, amused. "Besides, how do you know some guy will buy it? It could be a woman.” 

Spencer rolled his eyes and was ready to continue arguing on the topic, but suddenly it seemed as if he changed his mind. His expression grew more serious.

"Actually, it doesn't change much, but that's not the point. What worries me more is that I've lost my touch. Maybe you'd want to replace me in this? The buyer might not be satisfied."

He said it in a tone as if he were talking about a truly serious, real transaction, which only amused you even more. Also pretending to be serious, you patted him on the shoulder.

“Don't worry, Spence. I'm sure you'll manage just fine.'"

"Really? What makes you think that?"

You considered making a joke, but then you realized what you were talking about while studying him. After a whole day at work, he looked... surprisingly... attractive? With slightly tousled hair and two buttons of his shirt undone…

"‘Nothing,” you replied. For the first time in his presence, you felt slightly embarrassed to continue the topic. Your closeness on the couch didn’t help at all, and you regretted scaring off Mr. Cinnamon.

“No, something makes you think that” 

The tension between you escalated to the point where you weren't sure if he was still joking. You realized that in this silence, every change in your breathing would be audible, so you tried to control it. 

What makes you think that? Spencer just seemed that way. I mean, you often talked about your relationships, and you assumed that his potential partner would lack nothing.

Embarrassed, you wanted to say something when he suddenly burst out laughing.

"Jesus, we were talking about blowing somebody for a jacket. Why did you get so scared? 

You hit him on the arm so hard that he let out a groan.

"I didn't get scared! You just suddenly became so weird that I didn't know if you were joking or what” 

"‘Of course I was joking. Why would I ask you that seriously?” he asked, and you noticed that he also carried a hint of embarrassment.

"I have no idea. Maybe you wanted to know my opinion or something” You desperately tried to return to the atmosphere that had existed between you just a moment ago, one that felt more friendly.

Spencer swallowed hard. It was clear he also preferred to drop the topic. 

“I don’t know why you would have any opinion on that, but let’s get back to what we were talking about before you switched into perverted weirdo mode...’"

After his words, you had to hide your face in the sleeve of his shirt, unable to contain your laughter. He seemed surprised by your reaction.

“ What? What did I say this time?” 

“Perverted weirdo” you blurted it out, almost choking on your words.” You called me a perverted weirdo…”

“Well, considering your recent ambiguous comments…”

“I'm going to tell Emily about this. Hey girl, you know how Spencer called me last time? A perverted weirdo…Oh no, I got your shirt dirty with my makeup… “

Spencer looked at the sleeve of his shirt and shrugged, saying, "It's nothing."

"No," you shook your head, trying to rub the stain off his shirt with your fingers, but of course it didn’t work. "I spilled coffee on your pants last time. Take it off; I'll wash it today."

"It's late; you’re not going to deal with washing my shirt right now. Let's get back to looking for our costumes."

You agreed and once again found comfort leaning on his shoulder. He still held the laptop on his lap, and whenever you wanted to type on the keyboard, you had to rest your elbows on his body, on the lower part of his stomach. Why were you even paying attention to that? You shaked your head and leaned over the laptop when you found the perfect shoes for Marla's costume.

In that position, you couldn't see Spencer, but you felt he was almost completely still. After a moment, however, he slowly reached for your hair, gently brushing it with his fingers as if checking its texture.

"We don't need to buy you a wig, right? Your hair will do just fine."

You murmured in agreement as he continued to play with your hair, probably unaware of how much he was distracting you. You had been staring at the picture of the shoes for five minutes and couldn’t remember what you wanted to check. Ah, the size!

"Reid, we have a problem," you said. "They don't have my size. I checked to see if a larger size would be available, since I could stuff them somehow, but the smallest is a 10!"

"Your shoe size is 7; in such large ones, you'll either look ridiculous or kill yourself before even arriving to the party…Do they have to be those specific ones? Maybe you can find some others..."

"They have to be those! They're identical to the ones Helena Bonham Carter wore."

Spencer sighed thoughtfully. His breath tickled the back of your head, which distracted you slightly once again. Anyway, this one time, you came up with a solution faster than his brilliant mind…

You turned your head toward him — after he stroked your hair you were very, very close to each other. The flame from the candle on the table reflected in his eyes, filling the area with the scent of cinnamon that had lingered for a while. When your face unexpectedly came just in front of him, he looked at you with a surprise and a gaze that he had never given you before. It was as if he were trying to stop himself from doing something, while at the same time, a voice in his ear incessantly urged him to go ahead.

You looked away to avoid doing something foolish. You could feel warmth on your neck and cheeks. Finally, you remembered what you wanted to ask.

"Spence, what’s your shoe size?"

5 years ago

 It all started when the rest of your team found out about Penelope and Morgan's Halloween tradition. Every year, the two of them held a movie marathon of the scariest films they could find, watching them until sunrise.

 "Why didn’t you invite any of us? I love watching horror movies with friends!" Prentiss exclaimed indignantly.

You were on board a private jet. You had been working with this team for only a few days —  in fact, this was your first trip with them to work in the field.

The prospect of solving the case had you feeling stressed, and you were also wondering if you would find common ground with your team. You lagged slightly behind, pretending to read a book while actually listening to all the conversations around you. You wanted to get to know everyone better. Someone sat down beside you, leaning in to read the title of your book.

 "Rebecca. Have you gotten to the part where it turns out Maxim killed his wife?"

You looked shocked at the second youngest member of the team. You had a serious problem with remembering names, so you only knew his last name. Reid was a tall man with longer hair, dressed in a vest with a shirt peeking out from underneath. Until now, you hadn't formed much of an opinion about him, but that was about to change — he had just spoiled the ending of the book for you.

“No, I haven’t gotten to this part! “

An older man in a black suit chuckled quietly to himself.

"Guys, listen up," said the brunette with bangs, wearing a tight red shirt. "It just came out that Morgan and Penelope have their own secret Halloween tradition."

The woman mentioned was present only on the laptop screen. She was working with you remotely and seemed really nice to you. 

"Sweetheart, we weren't trying to hide anything from you; it just happened that we didn’t mention it..."

"That’s exactly what hiding is," Reid added, giving you an apologetic look for spoiling the book.

"What do you say to all of us getting together this Halloween? The whole team?" asked a muscular man dressed in gray, sitting across from Prentiss with his elbow casually resting on the table. "With a special invitation for you, newbie."

Saying this, he winked at you. You were surprised, but still smiled. Are there better circumstances for getting to know your team than a party? Everyone around you approached this idea. 

a week later

You stared at your phone in fear after just ending the call. JJ said something came up and she wouldn’t be able to make it to the party. You knew her best out of the whole team and had hoped that with her there, you would feel more at ease. Most importantly, you were supposed to wear matching outfits. You realized your breath had quickened slightly. You weren't sure if anyone else besides you planned to dress up. After all, they were mostly older than you —  maybe they weren't into that anymore?

 Back in high school, you were the only one who showed up in costume, and you felt embarrassed the whole evening walking around in a zombie farmer outfit while all the other girls wore mini skirts and beautiful, subtle makeup. You didn’t want to go through that again, but making this costume had taken you a lot of time. Recently, you and JJ had been enchanted by the animated movie Corpse Bride, and you planned to dress up as the title character and her rival, Victoria. Since you loved dressing up for Halloween, you chose the more challenging costume. You bought a cheap white dress that you styled to look more tattered. You applied pale blue makeup and heavily contoured your cheekbones. You even managed to get a veil.

In fifteen minutes, you were supposed to be at Morgan's house. If you removed the makeup, you wouldn’t have time to do anything else. You contemplated what to do. Ultimately, you decided it would be a shame to waste your hard work, and soon you found yourself in the car, heading to the address you were given. As you parked, you felt stress start to take control of you.

You needed to sit in silence for a moment, so you turned off the engine and stared at the empty sidewalk in front of you. Morgan lived in a large house in a quiet neighborhood, where all the homes were spaced far enough apart to host small gatherings without bothering anyone.

Suddenly, someone appeared by the driver's window. You screamed in surprise, your thoughts racing back to all the cases when women were killed in their own cars. 

You quickly realized that it wasn't another UNSUB. That one wouldn’t have screamed alongside you.

“Damn it, Reid, you scared me!”

“You scared me too” he managed to say, placing a hand on his chest. He glanced toward the house. "Weird that Morgan hasn't come out to help yet."

“Maybe the music is too loud and he didn’t hear. There are quite a few cars. Did they invite that many people?” you wondered as you got out of the car. 

Reid glanced at your costume. He wasn’t dressed up at all, just wearing a plain dark gray blazer and a shirt.

"Is that some fashion trend, or are you dressed as a zombie bride?"

“Neither, actually,” you replied, feeling stressed about being the only one in costume. “It’s from the cartoon Corpse Bride.”

“I haven’t seen it,” he admitted as you both headed toward the entrance of the house.

“It’s a great animation,” you recommended. “You should check it out. Although, from what I’ve noticed, you prefer reading more.”

“Not entirely. I like movies too, but I rarely choose cartoons,” he said, ringing the doorbell.

“You don’t know what you’re missing,” you replied.

A very short girl you'd never seen before opened the door. She seemed slightly tipsy, confirming your suspicions that people from outside the team had also been invited.

"Oh, you dressed up! How cute!" she said, delighted to see you both, even though she didn’t know you. "Wait, I think I even know who you are. Emily and Victor from Corpse Bride?"

She pointed at the two of you, at your dress and his gray blazer. You exchanged glances, realizing she must have mistaken his usual clothes for a costume.

"No, we’re not…" Reid began to explain.

"Actually, I was supposed to match costumes with JJ…"

But she wasn’t listening. She let you in and shouted through the whole house,

"Look at their matching outfits!"

Everyone gathered around to see you, and you endured the whistles and applause with growing embarrassment.

Penelope appeared right beside you, placing her hands on your shoulders and inspecting your makeup closely. "Oh, sweetheart, you really went all out. This must have taken you ages."

"Which is more than I can say for you," joked Prentiss, holding a beer bottle and pointing it at Reid. "You decided to keep it a secret for a better effect, I assume?"

Reid tried once more to explain that it wasn’t intentional, but you stopped him with a nudge. He looked at you, puzzled.

"Let’s go get a drink," you suggested.

Not waiting for a response, you grabbed his wrist and pulled him along.

"I’m not going to be the only one in costume, so you’re going to stick with me and pretend we planned this all along."

He let out a surprised laugh, thinking you were joking at first.

"Wait, seriously? So… I’m Victor now?"

"Yes, you’re Victor, and you accidentally proposed to me. By the way, I’m dead."

"Okay," he blinked, processing the information. "I definitely need to watch that movie."

You spent almost the entire evening sticking close to each other. Without you by his side, Spencer looked like he wasn’t wearing a costume at all. And without Spencer next to you, you felt a bit awkward.

A few hours later, the two of you were sitting alone in the kitchen, drinking non-alcoholic cocktails and talking about… psychology. Not exactly a party topic, but somehow that’s where your conversation about favorite sodas had ended up.

“Next year, we have to do this again. I mean, plan a costume together. On purpose this time."

Spencer nodded.

"I think I even have an idea."

And that was how your tradition began.

now

He said Halloween is for kids. 

Starting from the beginning, everyone always asks how you met Travis. Well, your story has some potential for a romantic comedy — if only you were a bit more attractive and funnier to make it more watchable on screen. And maybe if there were some breathtaking plot twist. But real life has little in common with a romantic comedy, and you didn’t meet under any crazy circumstances. You only had potential. It happened during your rehabilitation.

Perhaps we need to go back a bit further. Six months ago, Emily passed away, and you weren’t even there for the funeral because, in the rescue attempt to free her from Doyle’s hands, you were shot. Seriously wounded. You spent two weeks in a coma. That might not seem like a long time, but when you woke up, it felt like years had passed. Everyone around you seemed so distant, changed, almost as if you’d suddenly appeared in an entirely different reality.

The following weeks were even more blurred, like rain hitting fiercely against the window with such frequency that the droplets slowly merged into a single cohesive stream. You weren't accepting visitors while in the hospital; something was wrong with you. Perhaps it was due to the grief and shock from Emily's passing, along with the trauma. You didn't want to return to that job; you were too afraid of the risks. Of dying yourself or losing someone from your team and having to relive it all over again. Fortunately, you quickly received an offer for a transfer. An office job, terribly boring, but there was something in that monotony that filled you with a sense of safety. You hated it, but you were afraid to engage in anything else.

Before you took the job, you had to go through rehabilitation. It was led by Travis, eleven years older than you, which stunned your older brother when you introduced them. “You’re dating a guy older than me?” he asked, shocked. They didn’t hit it off, but you didn’t worry too much about that. Everything in your life had changed, and being in a relationship with an older, more mature guy made you feel more stable. And since so many things had changed, why not go all in? You moved in with him. Just as you were starting to climb out of the pit, another tragedy struck. Mr. Cinnamon Roll was diagnosed with stomach cancer and passed away despite treatment.

Since that moment, you almost stopped talking to your old team. You still loved them — they were like family to you, but whenever faced with life's struggles, you felt that burning need for isolation. On the day Mr. Cinnamon Roll died, you received a message from Spencer, asking how you were doing and suggesting a meeting. You stared at your phone for hours, and ultimately replied to him only the next morning with a brief, "Sorry, I didn't notice you wrote." He responded just as briefly. He was also suffering due to the circumstances and probably didn't have the energy to chase after his friend who openly refused to give him any attention.

You pushed him away because you weren’t ready to confront what you were feeling. Something had happened between you during that Halloween party, shortly before Emily's death. After that, you acted as if nothing had occurred, but both of you knew that you needed to talk about what to do with your relationship. But before you had the chance, there was Doyle, your accident, then Travis, and it seemed that everything that had ever been between you was lost. A new agent, Ashley, joined the BAU. You knew her —  you were around the same age, and sometimes you caught yourself wondering if something might blossom between her and Reid.

You thought that if you accepted the loss of your previous life, it would be easier to move on. It was the opposite. Day by day, you felt more and more depressed, empty inside. This morning, you went into a café to buy coffee. While waiting for your order, you looked at the tiny pumpkins on the counter and realized it was Halloween—the holiday you used to love so much. This moved you, and for the first time in a long time, you felt a spark of life within you. You felt like you wanted to do something. Dress up as a character from a cheap horror movie, have a few drinks. Maybe even go trick-or-treating, hiding behind a mask like kids do. You did that with Spencer two years ago, but no one wanted to give that tall guy any candy.

You shared this idea with Travis.

And he said that Halloween is for kids. 

a year ago

“How the fuck I’m suppose to walk in these….”

As soon as you saw him in a black dress that reached mid-thigh (it should have been longer, but you bought it when you still assumed you would be the one wearing it), a short fur coat of the same color, and sunglasses, you nearly choked on your laughter. And when he added black heeled ankle boots and started cursing their practicality, you fell onto the couch, unable to stand on your legs any longer.

Mr. Cinnamon Roll watched his antics with curiosity.

“Run away, little one,” Spencer advised him. “Those heels are so sharp I might accidentally kill you.”

“Don’t exaggerate. I wear shoes with higher heels every day.”

“Your spine will thank you for it in ten years.”

“Alright, mom.”

The deadly shoes landed on the floor. You were planning to leave in an hour and a half, once you finished perfecting your costumes. Until then, Spencer had no intention of risking his life by parading around in them. He lay down on the couch next to you, the dress ungracefully riding up.

“Now it’s your turn to change,” he said, pointing to the Tyler Durden costume lying on the table. “And mine to laugh.”

“First, I wanted to do makeup.”

“Is that necessary?”

“Are you kidding? What kind of Marla Singer would it be without a bold smokey eye?”

“Fine by you,” he muttered, looking at the watch on his wrist. “One hour and thirty-three minutes. Will we make it?”

“Relax. Remember, for a better impression, we need to be a little late.”

You disappeared for a moment into your bathroom, only to return with a makeup bag in hand. You had bought a new eyeshadow palette specifically for this occasion. Tilting your head to the side, you looked at your friend, wondering in which position you would be most comfortable working on him.

“Okay, lean against the couch,” you instructed, feeling like a professional makeup artist. “And don’t look at me like I’m a mad scientist trying to perform some dangerous operation on you.”

“From my perspective, that’s exactly what it looks like. A mad scientist and a dangerous operation. Just don’t accidentally poke me in the eye.”

“God, Reid, I’m not going to do this with a knife…”

You stood in front of the couch, facing him. Following your instruction, he rested his head, but as soon as you tried to apply the first product on his eyelid, you felt that you weren’t doing it precisely. You sighed.

“It’s uncomfortable for me to work this way. I have a better idea. Lie down.”

Reid looked at you with raised eyebrows but obediently lay down on the couch. You sat on a free spot next to him, leaning over his face. You were glad he closed his eyes. It would be awkward to be this close and still have to endure his sharp gaze. Your hair brushed against his neck. A gentle smile appeared on his face as soon as the brush touched his skin.

“This is quite nice,” he said.

You didn’t respond, focused on turning him into a doppelgänger for Marla Singer. You would sooner die of embarrassment than admit it out loud, but you deliberately prolonged the entire process. You felt as if you were working on a painting. Additionally, you enjoyed the awareness of having him beneath you, so defenseless and completely unaware, that you wondered what it would be like to kiss him.

You would simply press your lips together to see what would happen. There was a possibility he would push you away, but even considering that, you were ready to do it. You didn’t even try to push those thoughts away. They had completely dominated your mind, and you were just observing them from the sidelines, wondering where they came from. Throughout your years of friendship, you had never experienced them. Or rather, you had experienced them so rarely that you didn’t consider them significant. After all, everyone sometimes feels like kissing their friend. The problem was that for quite some time, the only thing you had been thinking about was his lips on yours.

Spencer opened one eye. You felt as if he had caught you doing something wrong.

“What are you thinking about?” he asked, his voice slightly husky.

You brushed aside the one strand of his hair that had strayed onto his forehead.

“About one of my friends.”

“You look worried. Can I ask why thinking about this person makes you feel that way?”

You let out a quiet laugh. You wondered if he knew you were talking about him. He should have.

“I doubt you want to hear about it,” you replied evasively. However, after a moment, you broke down and added something more. “Do you ever feel like you want to do something stupid so badly that you feel like you're physically shaking, even though you know it’s wrong?”

He frowned slightly. You accidentally applied too much eyeshadow, licking the tip of your finger to wipe away the excess product from his skin.

“Can you give a specific example of such behavior?”

You shrugged.

“I don’t know. Kissing a friend, for example.”

He smiled gently.

“Well, in that case, yes. All the time.”

You exhaled through your nose, feeling a painful tightness in your chest. You didn’t know what was happening to you.

“Done,” you said, abruptly rising from the couch. “I need to change. We don’t have much time.”

“There’s still an hour and eighteen…”

You grabbed your costume from the table and hid in the bathroom, not hearing the end of his sentence.

one hour and eighteen minutes later

Usually, nighttime drives had a calming effect on you, but this time it was completely the opposite. You were in a small space with Spencer, with whom you had just had… let’s call it a complicated conversation. You felt every part of your body tense.

You hated yourself. You hated that you didn’t understand what you were feeling. You hated that you didn’t know what you wanted. You felt like banging your head against the steering wheel. Maybe the sound of the horn would bring you back to your senses.

Reid just stayed silent, inscrutable.

“I’m afraid we’ll be right on time,” he said after clearing his throat. “And you wanted to be a little late.”

“So what should I do now, drive around the city for the next ten minutes?” you asked, slightly irritably.

He shrugged stiffly.

“Or stop and wait. It’s a much more environmentally friendly option.”

In the end, you pulled up outside Morgan’s house, where the annual Halloween party was set to take place for the fifth year in a row. You sighed with nostalgia and turned off the engine. You might have been in the middle of an emotional crisis, but you still intended to win that contest. And that meant waiting out those ten minutes.

You adjusted the sleeves of your red leather jacket.

“Remember when we dressed up as Harry and Voldemort?” you asked suddenly. That had been your first intentional costume pairing.

Spencer let out a short laugh.

“For the next two days, I couldn’t wash off all that white paint,” he muttered, reaching into the black purse you had lent him. Spencer had been outraged that mini dresses had no pockets, leaving him with nowhere to keep his things. You frowned when you noticed he had taken out his wallet. From it, he pulled out a photo taken on that memorable day, showing the two of you standing in front of the fireplace at Morgan’s cabin. You had your arms around each other, Voldemort and Harry Potter.

“You carry our photo in your wallet?” you asked, touched, admiring the picture with delight.

Slightly embarrassed, he nodded.

“And not just ours,” he reached into his wallet again, this time pulling out a photo of Mr. Cinnamon Roll curled up on your lap. You leaned closer to Spencer to get a better look, almost forgetting about your earlier conversation.

You extended your hand, but instead of taking the photo, you just grabbed his hand. He squeezed it tightly and briefly kissed the back of it.

“It’s been ten minutes,” he announced, letting go of your hand. “We can go inside now…”

He trailed off as you suddenly grabbed a piece of his fur and pulled him as close as possible. You felt as if someone stronger had taken control of your body and finally did what you had wanted to do for a long time. You were kissing him.

At first, he froze as if spellbound, completely surrendering to the pressure of your lips. You pulled back a little, unsure if you should continue.

“Why did you stop?” he asked softly.

“I wasn’t sure if you liked it.”

He laughed right into your mouth and resumed the kiss in a hungry way.

“I wanted to do it earlier,” you admitted after a moment. His eyes were shining, and yours probably were too. “When I was putting on your makeup. You had your eyes closed, and it was all I could think about.”

His hand rested on your neck, his thumb gently drawing circles on your sensitive skin. You had your arms around his neck, entwined like strands of hair in a braid.

“Good thing you didn’t,” he said. You raised your eyebrows in surprise. “I’d venture to guess we wouldn’t have even made it to this party.”

“Don’t get too bold with your assumptions. I wouldn’t let such good costumes go to waste…”

He kissed you one more time, pulling you close by the chin. Okay, he was right. If you’d done this earlier, you’d probably still be at your apartment, entirely wrapped up in each other. In fact, you’d lost all interest in going to that part

You spent a good few minutes smiling at each other, foreheads touching. You felt the need to talk to him — to make sure this wasn’t just a release of the tension that had been building between you recently, but something more. Before you knew it, though, you were walking arm-in-arm toward Morgan’s house.

“This year, you’ve outdone yourselves,” he commented as he finally came out of his shock at seeing Spencer in heels. He, too, was in costume. For the past four years, it was almost impossible to find anyone there without one. You could say you were the ones who started the trend.

Without letting go of his hand, you encouraged him to spin around in a circle. All evening, you wondered if people noticed that something had changed between you or if they just assumed it was all part of the act. His hand almost never leaving your waist, your conversations with faces close together, the prolonged disappearance in the bathroom under the pretense of fixing his makeup.

“Have you thought about what we’ll dress up as next year?” he asked, pinning you against the upstairs wall, his hand slipped under the fabric of your loose shirt.

You looked into his eyes thoughtfully.

“I liked the idea of Mia and Vincent from Pulp Fiction.”

“Mia and Vincent. White shirts and fake blood. Don’t you think it’s a bit too simple? We should raise the bar each year.”

You rolled your eyes.

“So, what is your suggestion?”

now

 You lay in bed next to the sleeping Travis, staring at his bare back.

Every day, he started with a run around six in the morning, so he didn’t let you drag him anywhere in the evening, despite it being Friday. You tried to fall asleep, but you knew it was useless. You’d always been a night owl. Besides, it was Halloween—your favorite holiday, and for the first time in years, you were spending it with your head on the pillow at 10 p.m.

You sighed and quietly, so as not to wake him, went to the living room to watch some show on TV and maybe have some ice cream. Sitting on the couch, you constantly felt the urge to reach out and pet Mr. Cinnamon Roll, who used to keep watch by your side. Each time, it ended with you touching the cold leather of the couch instead. You buried your face in your hands, stretching the skin on your cheeks.

You couldn’t live in this emptiness any longer.

It happened so suddenly. One moment, you were curled up on the couch, and the next, you were slipping back into the bedroom to grab one of Travis’s plain white shirts from the closet. Just regular black jeans. The only thing missing was fake blood, but you decided you’d just be a more polite version of Mia.

Your heart felt like it was about to burst from your chest as you drove. Doubts crept in, and the absurdity of your behavior caught up with you. It was highly likely that your previous team had stopped organizing those events due to circumstances. And even if they were still happening, why would you feel invited? You had limited your contact with them, almost cutting it off in recent months.

Your breath was painful as you pressed your hand against your side, where a scar from a gunshot wound marked your skin. The red light of the traffic signal turned into the flashing lights of an ambulance. You were inside, bleeding, the whole world blurring around you.

You tried to calm yourself so as not to accidentally cause an accident. However, that tragic feeling didn’t leave you even when you found yourself there again. For the fifth year in a row, on Halloween night, at Morgan’s doorstep.

Derek opened the door for you, wearing a plain t-shirt. No music was coming from inside, and no cars were gathering around. He blinked in surprise at the sight of you.

You greeted him sadly, ready to throw out some excuse, though none came to mind. You had shown up unannounced, unwelcome, when he was probably spending the evening at home working or resting. A flush of embarrassment covered your cheeks.

Before either of you could say anything more, Penelope appeared behind him. She wore a headband adorned with little pumpkin decorations.

“Morgan, we have a serious problem with picking a movie because Hotch…”

She stopped, stunned by your presence. But a moment later, she shouted your name and swept you into her embrace.

“Oh, why didn’t anyone tell me you were coming!”

Over her shoulder, you could see Derek’s gentle smile.

“We went back to basics, and instead of throwing a party, we’re just watching movies,” he explained, eyeing you closely. “But costumes are always welcome. You’re not even the only one who thought to dress up.”

Both of them pulled you into the living room, where the rest of the team was arguing about which movie to watch. As all eyes turned to you, you felt like someone had forcefully shoved you onto a stage and blinded you with a spotlight aimed directly at you. Lost, you didn’t know what to say.

Then your gaze landed on that one person sitting alone in an armchair. Dressed in an identical white shirt and a black blazer draped over the arm of the chair.

You managed to smile at your Vincent.

[toxicanonymity]

The Raid.

2.7k, dark!Javi P x f!reader | SERIES MASTER

There's now a HOT GIF by @iamasaddie and HOT ART by @bonezone44. PT. 2. | THE RAID masterlist

Your gaze falls down his tac vest to his tight jeans and a bulge you didn’t see before. Peña follows your eyes, looks down at himself, then sighs.  "Ay, pobrecita" (poor little girl), he whispers insincerely, putting on a frown. He uses his gun to nudge your chin up and bring your eyes back to his. 

WARNINGS: I8+, canon-typical violence, drug abuse, dubcon blow job (power dynamic / transactional / drugs), jacking off, fingering, cumplay, manhandling, handcuffs, gunplay, degradation, kidnapping

A/N: Yes, it's raider Javi. . . inspired by the original raider Joel fic (not the whole series and it will not progress the same way). Tysm 🖤

-------

You're lying on the sofa in your boyfriend Jack's slum house while he and a buddy count stacks of cash on the kitchen table and bitch about their street dealers. It’s a typical night. One friend is still playing grand theft auto on the floor. Every surface is littered with bottles, takeout boxes, crumpled up foil, and baggies.  You're laid out on the sagging sofa, scrolling your phone, about to drift off.  

There's a loud rap at the door. "DEA." Your heart jumps to your throat and you jolt upright. 

"FUCK," Jack yells and grabs his gun off the table.  "Go to the bedroom, you'll be fine," he tells you as he heads to the kitchen and out the back.  You sit there in disbelief that he's leaving you. The DEA doesn't knock again before busting down the door.  "DROP YOUR WEAPONS."  

Several agents swarm the house, wearing bullet-proof vests, crouching as they prowl around, pointing their guns. 

Two men approach you while a few more agents mill around the house. 

"Don't let anyone leave," says a mustached man on his way through the house. 

"Got it, Peña," confirms one of the men standing in front of you. Peña nods, glances at you, then sees Jack running away and rushes out after him.  

Both of the men in front of you are big. One taller, one more muscular. They look at you like you're a piece of meat. They guard you for a few minutes, keeping their guns trained on you.  They talk about you like you're not there. 

"Pretty girl,” the tall one says. 

The other man takes a step back, craning to see out the window before answering, "we got time, Ed." Ed, the taller one, puts his gun in his vest and unbuckles his belt. Meanwhile, you bolt off the sofa and try to dodge the other man on your way to the door. A third agent catches you and shoves you back to the original two, asking "Lose something'?" He sticks around.

Ed, with his pants still unbuckled, slaps you across the face with the back of his hand. It stings, but you laugh at him as if it doesn’t hurt. 

With that, the newest man steps forward and raises his gun to your head.  You flinch and your courage drains away. "Clothes off, he demands." You look to the door for help, but no one's coming. Yet another agent is making his way over. Your'e shaking as you strip down to your underwear with four men now facing you. 

Ed lewdly grabs his crotch. "Woulda been a whole lot happier with this." Then he brings his gun to your face and prods your cheek. "But let's see what this pretty mouth can do." 

. . .

A few minutes later, you’re relieved to hear voices and footsteps outside. Peña skids through the door, panting. He removes a pair of aviators as he takes in the scene. Under his green bullet proof vest, his tan shirt is darkened with sweat. His brow furrows at you in your underwear with the barrel of a gun in your mouth. 

"Dejenla, pendejos," (leave her alone, assholes) Your heart flutters with appreciation as they slowly back away. 

"She tried to run," one says. Peña points his gun at them, arms straining his sleeves.  The men back away obediently. "Outside. All of you," he tells them calmly but sternly. They disperse, slowly and sheepishly. "NOW," he booms. They leave the door cracked. “Cerrado” (Closed), Peña snaps, and they shut the door. 

When the door closes, it’s just you and Peña. You reach for your shirt on the sofa to put it back on, but he points his gun at you. "No. Don't fucking move." He’s still catching his breath.  He walks backwards, keeping his gun fixed on you as he makes his way to the front door. He reaches behind himself and locks the deadbolt, then holds the gun with both hands again. 

"You wanna go to jail?" He asks and you shake your head no. He approaches you in no hurry, still aiming the gun at you."Cause that's what's s'posed to happen."

You look into his big, brown eyes, trying to connect with something. 

"Here’s what happens," he starts, his breath still somewhat labored. "I take what’s mine and the DEA’s. . .” 

You nod. 

“and when I let them back in, they take what they want.”  He gestures to the drugs and money on the table, then wipes his brow. "So. . ." He takes a moment to breathe, then raises his eyebrows. "you want them to take what they want," he gestures his gun down your body. "Or want me to take you in?"  He wets his lips and his eyes fall to your bra for a moment. 

"Neither,” you plead. 

He sighs and finally lowers his gun. He uses his left sleeve to wipe his brow but the sleeve is almost too short. His hairline is matted with perspiration.  He bends forward and braces his hands on his thighs to look at you, right hand holding the gun against his jeans. 

"Here's what we're gonna do. . ."  His face is tense, but his voice is low and soothing. "We're gonna make a deal, aren't we?"  He nods. He wets his lips and looks you over. You nod back, just barely.  Your gaze falls down his tac vest to his tight jeans and a bulge you didn’t notice before.

Peña follows your eyes, looks down at his pants, then sighs. 

"Ay, pobrecita" (poor little girl), he whispers insincerely, putting on a frown. 

He uses his gun to nudge your chin up and bring your eyes back to his. 

"Be a good girl for me," he says. "And we'll see what I can do." 

You nod. 

“You can call me Javi,” he offers, and you tell him your name. Your wallet is right there anyway. 

"Can I put this away?" He asks, holding up his gun. You nod.  "Nowhere to run," he warns you as he slips the gun into his vest. He adjusts himself then braces both hands on his thighs again and hardens his face. "Try something, and I'll let them back in for an hour, then cuff you myself. ¿Comprende?" 

You nod again. 

"Dime que comprendes" (tell me you understand).

"Yes," you confirm. "Entiendo." (I understand).

"Que bueno, pobrecita" (Good). He lets his eyes fall down your body hungrily. "How should we make this deal official?" 

You reach for his pants. He puts his hands out of the way and rests them loosely on his hips. His pelvis pushes forward as you palm the warm, ample bulge in his tight jeans. The front of his shirt has come slightly untucked from his foot pursuit, exposing a sliver of tummy that expands with his breathing as his cock hardens under your palm.  You catch a waft of his sweat and it sends a pang between your legs. You give him a slow, sensual rub with pressure. 

“Mm, good girl.” 

His massive hand comes to your face.  He grips your jaw and makes you look at him. You pause your hand then continue rubbing him and you feel yourself getting wetter. Then he squeezes your mouth open and looks at your teeth. His face is inches from yours and he reeks of tobacco.  "Not bad. . . at least you stay away from the pipe,” he raises an eyebrow. He looks at the side table of the sofa, littered with empty prescription bottles. "How long have you been using?" 

You don't answer. You slowly rub him and let your mind escape to a world where this is just a nice dick hardening warmly under your palm. 

"When's the last time you were clean more than a week?" 

Unsure what he wants to hear, you say, "Maybe a year."

"And how long have you been with that jackass?"

"I'm not."  You're not.  Not anymore. Not after this. 

"Mm-hm," Peña nods judgmentally and you feel a wave of shame when you see things through his eyes - a trap house and a loser boyfriend. "How does he fuck you?" 

You don't answer.

"Does he make you cum?"   His hips push forward and the outline of his tip presses against your palm.

“What do you want,” you snap defensively and his dick twitches under your hand. 

“You need to figure that out,” he says flatly. You meet his eyes and see desire. In different circumstances–like if he wasn't such an asshole–you'd hop on this man's dick in a flash, so you try to pretend he’s just a guy.

You reach for his belt buckle. His lips pout and his eyebrows go up with a tilt of his head. “Not a bad idea.” You unbuckle his belt, then unbutton and unzip his jeans. He’s not wearing underwear. His dark hair is trimmed close, almost shaven. His cock is thick, tan, and gorgeous. You work to free him from his restrictive pants, and it’s quite a package you’re looking at. 

His dick bobs heavily right in front of you, almost grazing your nose.  You take it in your hand, thumb resting on its crown.  You gently squeeze and admire it and it’s not long until he’s fully hard. Then you glance up at him and he’s looking at your mouth. You hover your lips near the tip and glance up at him again. He gives a go-ahead nod.  You suck the tip into your mouth.  Your tongue flattens under his shaft, then curls around the smooth, veiny skin. Holding his dick in your mouth, you tug his pants down lower and take out his balls before returning a hand to his cock. His balls are on the bigger side of average, symmetrical and only a little fuzzy. 

“Ohh, pobrecita.”  His voice is soft and dark, like Duvalin (nutella). 

Desire stirs between your legs.  He sucks in air through his teeth as you suck more of him into your mouth, and his tip nudges the back of your throat.  You cup his balls in your free hand and he lets out a low, quiet moan.  

“Tan suave, tan mojado. . .Tu boquita inmunda” (So soft, so wet, your unclean little mouth). 

You give his balls a light squeeze and his hands go to the back of your head, one following the other. He pulls your head down on his cock.

"You're a good little slut," He pants and thrusts his hips, his length sliding down the back of your throat– you try not to gag. "Just need somethin' in this mouth to keep you outta trouble." Tears sting your eyes from the gag reflex.  "Look at me, pobrecita." 

It's not easy but you try to look up. You watch him study your face for a few seconds as he fucks it.  Then you can't suppress it anymore.  You gag and pull your head away, afraid you might actually retch. His grip relaxes, but one hand stays on the crown of your head. He takes his cock in his hand. He kneels down on the floor and with his free hand, begins to take your panties down. You're suddenly very aware of how wet and throbbing you are from having his dick in your mouth.  He's soon aware, too, but he doesn't make a move to get on the sofa with you. He strokes himself with your saliva. "Open your legs." 

You obediently spread them but not far enough. He grabs breast and shoves your upper body back into the couch cushion, then he turns his attention to your cunt. He looks at it studiously and knits his brows.

“Que lástima” (what a shame), he mutters as he admires your glistening hole. “I’m a generous lover, too.” 

“¿Que lástima?” you ask. 

He shakes his head apologetically at your pussy, then meets your eyes. "Won't stick my dick in junkie cunt, sweetheart." 

He returns his gaze between your thighs and wets his lips.  “Juicy as it looks.” You huff and begin to close your legs. He places his massive hands on your knees, spreads them again, then runs his hands up your thighs and spreads them more.  He tilts his head as his thumbs reach the creases of your thighs.  Then he plants his thumbs on your outer lips and spreads you open to the cool air.  His nose twitches as he examines you.  Your clit throbs and you gush wetness. He puffs his cheeks out with an exhale. His dick is still hard between his legs, and he’s not touching it – his composure and self control is a little psycho. 

He gathers your slick, sniffs it with a barely visible snarl, and adds it to your saliva on his cock.  Then he fists his cock while staring between your legs. His free hand reaches up to tear your bra down on both sides, and he lets out a quiet moan at the sight of your tits. He jerks himself with his right hand and his left hand goes  between your legs. 

You're laid back on the sofa with your hips at the edge and he's kneeling between them.  He runs the backs of two digits through your folds, then inserts his thick middle finger and rotates his hand palm up. He pumps it twice and adds a second finger. 

He pumps himself and fingers you and when he's about to cum, he points his cock right between your legs.  He cums all over your mound, dripping down through your folds. He wipes his tip off on your inner thigh.  Then, his massive left hand returns between your legs, sliding through his own mess.  He fucks it into you with two fingers. He watches your face with a subtle, devious flicker behind his stare as he keeps fingering his cum into you. 

The lewdness ofi t makes your walls tighten around his thick digits. He curls them so his hand is rubbing your clit and his brow furrows as you begin to come undone. Your body tenses and your hips lift into his hand. Your back digs into the threadbare cushion. You bite your lip but fail to suppress a moan. He sucks in a deep breath watching you cum. 

“Good girl.” He withdraws his fingers and brings them to your mouth.�� You suck off the salty, tangy blend and swallow it. 

He gently pats your cunt. "This is mine, now," he nods, then clenches his jaw and looks back and forth between your eyes.  "We’re gonna get you clean, pobrecita.  Entonces puedo usarla" (Then I can use it). Then he stands up and puts his cock back in his pants. "Put your clothes on, let’s go," he says. He picks them up off the sofa and drops them in your lap. 

Javi is watching you get dressed when someone knocks at the front door. Peña moves toward the door, and on instinct you start to make a break for the back exit, but he sees you in the corner of his eye.  “Ay, putita,” (little slut) he mutters as he bolts toward you.  He catches up just as you'ved opened the door.   His massive hands grab your arms roughly from behind, and he shakes you. "You were doing so fucking good," he spits through gritted teeth as he wrangles you back into the kitchen. He slams you face first up against the fridge and pins you with his left forearm while he grabs his cuffs. 

"You asshole. You're really taking me in? On what??"

He regains his composure and brings his mouth to your ear in a near whisper.  "Not to jail.” 

"Then where are you–" 

His voice is deep and quiet. "Callate, pobrecita." (Be quiet). He closes the cuffs, then tightens them. "It's for your own good." 

—---

If you like this, consider raider Joel (read warnings).

------

Thank you so much for reading and engagement!! Your support and interaction really keeps me going when other things drain me and drag me down. I love you guys.

Note: In general, if someone else’s work inspires yours, please share their work and give a shoutout.   

—----

[amongemeraldclouds]

not being romantic

Jess Mariano may be cute, possibly charming, but he is most definitely annoying. He certainly can’t hold a candle to your secret pen pal who’s smart, loves books, and aspires to be an author. Or can he?

Jess Mariano x f!Reader

Warning: no use of y/n, mostly fluff, some angst, cursing, suggestiveness. This fic is set after he left Stars Hollow.

✿ Masterlist | 3.3k words

The cafe buzzed with the rush of customers lined up for their afternoon caffeine fix. Coffee machines droned on churning coffee as sunlight streamed through the windows and the smell of baked goods wafted through the air.

You smirked at Jess Mariano before you called the customer to hand them their drink. You proceeded to add another point to your scoreboard, waving your arm for emphasis. He rolled his eyes at your dramatics and hurried up, adding whipped cream to the drink he was preparing. 

Everything was always a game with him. Who could get the highest amount of tips? Who could guess the new customer's coffee order? Who could make the most convincing foreign accent?

Today’s game was: who could make the fastest coffee order?

“You’ve gotten better,” he observed as you grabbed a cup for the next customer. “Aren’t you glad to have had an incredible instructor like me?”

You scoffed, “more like an incredible loser if you don’t hurry up with that order. Just because you taught me, doesn’t mean I’d go easy on you, Mariano,” you taunt, narrowing your eyes for emphasis.

He shook his head with a smile, “I expected nothing less from you.” He made his way to the other end of the counter to call the customer and handed them their drink.  

Another busy shift flew by and before you knew it, it was time to close down the cafe.

You grabbed the scoreboard, beaming with pride. “I won! You can now call me the Queen of Speed, Barista Extraordinaire. Bow down before your queen.”

Jess looked up from where he was wiping the counter with a flat expression. “I’ll call you the Queen of Clean if you help me with these last few tables?”

You frowned at him and stuck your tongue out, of course he had a whole arsenal of retorts with him at any given moment. You grabbed the towel and disinfectant spray from behind the counter and moved to wipe down the tables. “You’re no fun, but I’ll let it slide since you now owe me a favor.”

“As long as I don’t have to help you dispose of a body then it’s fine,” he replied, eyebrow raised. 

You rolled your eyes, “if I ever need to dispose a body, it would probably be yours.”

“Are you confessing to something you’ll commit? I don’t think that’s very wise.”

“I’m not planning anything,” you sighed, pinching your nose. The conversation was getting more and more off topic by the second. “You, however, will be the dea*h of me.”

“I’ll add you to the waitlist,” he nodded as he set aside the towel and grabbed the key, ready to close for the evening. Of course that wasn't the first time that line was directed at him.

“You’re just trying to avoid what you owe me. Stop deflecting, Mariano,” you accused, heading towards him to return the cleaning materials. “I need your help with my toaster, it stopped working and I can’t afford to get it fixed or replaced. Can you help me with that?”

“Of course, anything for the Queen of Speed,” he replied.

“You forgot Barista Extraordinaire,” you added helpfully.

Jess just shook his head as if to say, I can’t win with you. He fought the smile that threatened to break across his features. Perhaps you too had your own arsenal of comebacks.

With the final turn of the key, the door swung in and you and Jess headed into your tiny apartment. It was a studio that’s three steps away from the kitchen, five steps away from the bathroom, and ten steps away from the bed. You liked to keep it simple, minimalistic. It definitely had nothing to do with the cheap rent.

“Welcome to my apartment. It’s not much but it’s home,” you said, gesturing around the place.

“It’s cozy and it’s very you,” he remarked.

You folded your arms and stared at him, “I can’t tell if that’s an insult or a compliment.”

“Let me see. Second hand furniture, potted plants around the area, and the artwork looks similar to your napkin doodles. Don’t think I didn’t notice them. It’s a mosaic of different things, but you managed to tie it all together and make it work. It’s just like you to make good out of a potentially bad situation,” he observed.

“Slow down there or you’ll end up hosting shows about house tours,” you teased. “And hey, I’ll take the compliment. Who knew Jess Mariano could be nice?”

He shrugged, “I just call it like I see it.”

You took the three steps necessary to reach the kitchen. “Here’s the troublemaker, by the way. Not you, well, aside from you,” you amended and pointed to the toaster. “Not sure what’s wrong, it just stopped working.”  

He approached you and it struck you just how small the kitchen was, certainly not big enough for two. When you turned to speak to him, all the words left your mind as you realized you’re only inches away from him. Heat crept up your cheeks and you blinked.

Jess smirked at your reaction, keenly aware of the effect he had to you. That cocky bastard. He leaned in a bit closer and your breath hitched. “You know, if you just wanted me over at your place, there’s a lot of other fun things I can help you with.” You scrunched your nose and took a step back, immediately transported to the area you considered your bedroom. “If that’s your way of confessing your feelings for me, it’s not very romantic at all. Thought you’d have more game than that, Mariano,” you hedged.

“Oh, that’s because I’m not trying to be romantic. If I were trying....” he said, taking a step forward, closing the distance you tried to place between you. He brushed the hair away from your cheek, the touch so unexpectedly tender coming from Jess. You took in how soft his lips looked up close.

When he touched the side of your face, your attention returned to his soulful eyes. “...I’d do something like this,” he concluded, his breath against your lips like the ghost of a kiss. That’s all it took for him to steal the breath from your lungs.

You’re disoriented when cool air greets you again as he took a step back and the only trace left is the fading warmth from where his hand caressed your cheek. “But like I said, I’m not trying to be romantic,” he shrugged.

You cleared your throat, brushing off the lingering heat of the interaction. You ignored the pang of disappointment that hit you. Besides, someone else already had your heart, this was nothing but a silly little crush. “Well can you please try to fix my toaster?” you asked, trying to stay on topic as always.

“Sure, I have tools at home. I can take it with me and bring it back when I’m done.”

You nodded, “okay thank you. Let me just grab a bag you can carry it in.”

He scanned the room while you opened the cabinet to grab a reusable bag.

“Why do you have lots of mail?” He asked, thumbing through the pile of opened envelopes on your kitchen counter.

You mulled over the question, unsure how much you wanted to share with Jess Mariano and risk a round of his teasing. Then again, you could handle Jess. “Well, there’s this guy I really like. We send each other letters. If you really want to know what romantic is, Mariano, it’s hand written letters. No one bothers to write them anymore. There’s something sweet and sincere about it.”

“Who’s the lucky guy?”

“I’m not really sure. I got his first letter from the bookstore I frequent, the employee handed it to me and I asked him to hand back my reply. We just kept going from there, I think the mystery just adds to the romance.”

Jess shot you a worried look. “You mean to say, you’re corresponding with a complete stranger? For all you know he’s hiding his identity because he’s a stalker or a serial killer.”

“Please, he is not. He is smart, funny, and he’s writing a book. I just don’t feel like he’s that type of person.”

“You’re going off this based on your feelings? I don’t think that’s wise or safe.”

“Jess, it’s fine. There’s nothing to worry about,” you replied, having had enough of him for the day. After handing him the bag with the broken toaster, you shoved him towards the door and out from your apartment, wishing him a good night.  

“That was quick,” you said as you headed out of the cafe and walked towards Jess’ apartment to retrieve your now functional toaster.

Jess shrugged, “it was no big deal, just had a few loose screws to reattach. Speaking of loose screws, how about that imaginary boyfriend of yours? Finally decide to reveal himself?” 

You sighed, Jess had been on your case the whole week since you told him about your mysterious crush. Needless to say, you regretted telling him about it. “No, but he hasn’t written to me recently,” you pondered. “He must be busy writing his book.”

“Or planning your untimely demise,” he retorts.

“Jess, I swear,” you grit your teeth, “I’ll be planning your untimely demise if you don’t drop it. Why do you care so much? Are you jealous? Is that what this is about?”

“Well I’m trying to look out for a coworker, why does this have to be about me? But hey, I’ll drop it,” he relented. “Besides, I won today so you owe me a favor.”

You groaned, but don’t say anything further. He won fair and square, you were ready to accept your fate.

Jess continued, “My uncle sent some food last night and I have a lot more than I can finish myself. Help me with that before you leave with your toaster?”

“Jess Mariano,” you narrowed your eyes at him, “are you asking me out for dinner?”   

“No,” he quickly said and then caught himself. “We’re not going out, we’re dining in. Besides if I were being romantic, I might bring you flowers, pick you up, take you somewhere nice. So this,” he said, pointing between him and you, “is not me being romantic.”

“And there goes Mr. Defensive,” you smirked. Of course he was not being romantic, not to you. He had a hundred and one ways to tease and annoy you but never to charm you. Still, you couldn’t help the way it killed you just a little inside.

“I swear if you tell me this is where the magic happens, I will smack your head,” you deadpan as Jess opened the door to his apartment.

“Why does that turn me on?” He teased. Your face twisted in confusion and disgust and Jess laughed triumphantly, having drawn out a reaction from you. You had no idea you were adorable, he thought.

“Just welcome to my home then,” he said. 

You stepped in, admiring his cozy space. You imagined a messy home with leftover containers and soda cans strewn about reeking of old laundry and faded furniture. You had little to no expectations at all.

Instead what greeted you was a small space, similar to yours. The bed was made, blanket tucked in neat corners and the furniture, while undoubtedly secondhand, was well maintained. If anything, the mismatched pillows against the pale blue sofa and the sanded down wooden table gave it personality. It smelled like subtle household cleaners and carried the scent that is so distinctly Jess, a mixture of soap and sweat, plus a hint of cologne he would never admit to wearing.

“It’s very you,” you remarked, “and I don’t mean that as a bad thing.”

He shrugged, handing you your toaster, “I’ll take it as a compliment.”

“Thanks again for the toaster. Now there’s only one troublemaker here in this room,” you quipped as you move towards his kitchen to help him set the dinner table.

“That’s definitely you,” he replied, handing you the plates and utensils while he moved to heat up the food from the fridge. “Hand me the glasses over there?” He asked, pointing to the drawers on the opposite end.

You nodded, setting down the plates on the table and headed towards the drawer. “Well, I’ll let it slide just this time because you’re feeding me and I can’t say no to free food. Thank you Jess,” you said, a small hint of affection blooming in your chest.

You opened the first drawer and found only papers. You were about to close it to check the next drawer when the familiar edge of stationery caught your eye. It was exactly the type of paper you smiled at for hours on end, trying to memorize each word. Curiosity got the better of you and you lifted a half written letter to your eyes. A half written letter addressed to you.

A storm of emotions struck you then: confusion, hurt, and anger. All this time. The boy who weaseled his way into your heart, who called you cute in his first letter and wanted to get to know you. Who charmed you into the romantic idea of secret identities like spies undercover. Who shared your love for books and had the best recommendations that made you feel seen like no one ever has. Who spoke about his love for writing with a passion that inspired you. 

All this time it was Jess Mariano.

All this time it was a lie.

Just another one of his games.

“What about those gla—” he stopped mid-sentence when he turned back and saw you reading his letter.

“Fuck,” he exhaled softly as heat crept into his cheeks.

You looked at him, fire burning in your eyes. “Is that all you have to say, Mr. Fantastic Writer?” You huffed, trying to quell the tears that threatened to choke you. 

Jess opened his mouth and closed it, wanting to say a million words and failing. You watched the war raging in his head.

“Well then indeed, fuck!” You exclaimed in frustration. “And fuck you too. I know you love your games Jess, but you can’t just go around playing with other people’s feelings.”

You retreat and grabbed your things, shaking your head. “God, I feel like such a fool.”

You threw the door behind you and was a few steps away when you realized you left your toaster. Shame and betrayal marched with you as you opened his door again and found him still frozen where you left him.

“I’m just here for my toaster, which I actually need. Unlike you, I don’t need anything from you, Jess. I’ve read and heard enough,” you said, your voice wavered at the end and tears spilled down your cheeks.

You turned away from embarrassment, toaster in hand, and ran the rest of the way home. He didn’t deserve to hear your sobbing. He didn’t even deserve any of your tears. He was just a stupid boy that your stupid heart fell for. No big deal.

The next week passed in a blur. Unable to switch shifts with anyone else, you called in sick at the cafe and lived life between your university, the library, and your apartment. Never mind that you needed the pay, you could drown in instant noodles for all you cared. It didn’t matter anyway. A broken heart never cared for a full stomach.

That Friday, you were about to call it a night when the doorbell rang. The was odd, you thought, you weren’t expecting anyone. 

“You’ve got the wrong—” you stopped mid-sentence when you saw the last person you ever wanted to see, Jess Mariano holding a bouquet of flowers and books. If it were any other day, it might have sent butterflies to your stomach. Now all it did was fan the flames of your anger because it was much easier to be angry than hurt.

You slammed the door close but Jess stopped it with his outstretched arm. “Are you trying to get yourself injured?” You accused and you hated it, how much you still cared.

“Please, I just need to talk,” he said, pain and sincerity etched in his handsome face.

You sighed and let him in, not wanting to cause a scene at the hallway. “You have five minutes,” you held up your hand for emphasis.

“Fine, five minutes,” he breathed, steeling himself. "Here’s a story for you: I met this girl working at a cafe. She’s smart and quick witted, she never runs out of comebacks. Her smile makes my day and I needed to see more of it so I came up with these games. And damn it, I looked forward to going to work every day because of her.

There was a nagging at the back of my mind to get to know her better. I wanted her to get to know me too, but I have a track record of screwing things up so I sent a letter. Just one couldn’t hurt, right?

Clearly, I underestimated her. One letter was never going to be enough. I loved hearing about her dreams, her stories, the inside jokes we created along the way. Without meaning to, I fell for her. I fell for you. It was never a game for me, all of it was real. Is still real.

When I heard you liked your secret pen pal too, I didn’t know if I should reveal myself or just disappear, let you forget me. Of course, I screwed things up again. I’m so sorry, I never meant to hurt you but clearly I have. Would you give me a second chance? I’m not good at this but I want to try."

He’s breathless by the time he ends his speech and you take a moment as the words settled in. No wonder he discouraged your interest in your secret pen pal, which also turned out to be him.

You sighed, “you really screwed it up.” Your heart broke all over again only to come back whole together because he did like you. All those silly gestures he brushed off really did mean something. And the boy you loved through letters and your cafe crush turned out to be the same person.

You pondered his question. The way he went about it was all wrong, but a second chance might be worth a shot. “Fine, we can start over, but you’ll have to make it up to me. You owe me unlimited favors.”

“I'll fix all the toasters you need,” he said, presenting you with the bouquet of flowers and books.

“Oh you’ll have to do more than that. I have a broken bulb on the ceiling, the heater needs fixing, and the microwave will definitely break tomorrow,” you taunted him, accepting his bouquet nevertheless.

He just smiled, “I have a lot to make up for, but I’ll do it for you.” He moved closer to you, bringing the bouquet to rest on the kitchen counter, so he can wrap his arms around you. “You’re worth it,” he whispered in your ear and you hugged him back, fighting off the delicious chill that ran through your back from his words. Being in his arms felt so right.

“You like me,” you sing, teasing him like a child and you enjoy the way his chest rumbles against you as he laughs.

“Don’t let it get to your head,” he said, kissing your cheek. “Besides, you like me back.”

You removed yourself from his hug, already missing his warm embrace. “I never said I liked you,” you teased. 

Mock hurt danced across his features, “what’s not to like?”

You laughed at his arrogance, the need to touch him overwhelming everything else. “Fine,” you relented, “we can call it even.”

You closed the distance this time, “just to be clear, this is you being romantic?”

He smirked, wrapping his arms around your waist again. “Yes, this is me being romantic and I will show you so much more,” he said, bringing his lips to yours with a thousand unsaid promises you were about to discover.

✿ Masterlist

Author's note:

✿ When I came across a Jess Mariano fic, I just knew I had to write one too. Jess and his sarcastic ass in a (sort of) rivals to lovers trope, heck yes. ✿ Thanks to my lovely wife @pizzaapeteer for encouraging me to write this all those weeks ago ♡ ✿ Published this fic from a cafe, very on brand for the story.

[ifimdreaming]

come over?

luke hughes x reader

summary: you and luke have a secret/not so secret relationship

a/n: no warnings really, this is cute i think and very cringey fluff tbh. not proofread.

word count: 1.3k

-

Keeping your relationship with Luke a secret from your friends was a hard enough task as it is, but having to keep it a complete secret from your family was proving to be an even more difficult task. It has been over 6 months of you and Luke being together now and everyday you just want to shout from the rooftops just how much you love him.

Although you knew being in the spotlight was 100% not what you wanted, it was so much harder than you thought to have to sneak around and pretend to be single around some of your very closest friends. And Luke knew how much it meant to the public for you to be known solely as ‘Luke Hughes’ Girlfriend’ so you had both agreed on the whole keeping-things-a-secret thing until further notice.

Because of this, It had been almost 2 weeks since you had last seen your boyfriend. Both you and him being respectively busy, and also having absolutely nowhere to spend time together as your two roommates had not been out of the house for any extended periods of time lately. And in the midst of that, Luke and Jack had a guest staying at their condo since the beginning of the month, making it nearly impossible for you to spend any time there at all.

This had you up late at night thinking about Luke for what felt like the millionth night in a row. wishing he was beside you instead of just your childhood stuffed animals. Wishing he was rubbing your back, soothing you to sleep, kissing your neck gently, tracing shapes on your skin - there were so many little ways he showed you his love and you missed every single one of them. And as much as you hated what was at risk with you sneaking him over - laying in bed dreaming about it caused absolutely no harm at all.

Pulling you out of your daydream, you hear buzzing begin to come from your phone that is left charging on your nightstand as you are trying desperately to fall asleep. You look over to see that it is Luke calling you, at almost 1:00 in the morning. You wonder if he had been up thinking about you too.

You reach over and grab your phone to answer him, “hi baby” you whisper into the phone, not wanting to wake up anyone else in your apartment.

“baby I cant sleep. I miss you so much” he says with a tired rasp in his voice. He lets out a sigh on the other end of the phone and its almost like he is right beside you. You can hear the longing in his voice and can just sense how frustrated he is with the single sigh.

“I miss you too lukey. I literally cant sleep either - ive just been up thinking about you” you say honestly. 

You have always been super honest with him about everything. Weather it be you telling him every single detail about how horrible your period is that week, how you absolutely dread doing the dishes and let them pile up for days before getting to them, how you refuse to go out past 5pm by yourself because you are terrified of being kidnapped, or explaining to him word for word why you love the movie ‘love rosie’ so much and how much it means to you when he agrees to watch it with you. Luke knew you so well and you knew him just the same. Because you always communicated with each other. about everything. No matter what. 

Thats why what he said next came as such a shock to you.

“Ive been thinking too..’’ he trails off, his tone quieter than before

You stay quiet on the other end of the phone, curious about what Luke is about to say and suddenly extremely aware of the fact that it is so late at night and he decided to call you without warning. After your silent thinking, you hum a quiet ‘mhm’ in response, urging him to continue.

“Ive just been thinking.. maybe I regret keeping things, with us, a secret for so long. I know I- We agreed to hold off, especially because of how it would affect your life and everything. And I know thats a really big deal. I dont want you to think im being selfish..” he begins, but waits for you to chime in with your thoughts.

Things have worked well this way for so long, that it surprised you he felt this way. Especially because Luke is a very private person in general, you assumed this is how he wanted things. It broke your heart if you made him feel like this was all your idea in the first place. You just thought it would be best for the both of you.

“Luke I dont know what to say. Honestly i thought we were on the same page so I didnt offer to change anything…” 

“How long have you felt like this?” you add, trying to speak loud enough but still with your voice in a whisper.

“I mean. I dont really know?” he says almost as a question

“Luke…” you urge him, hoping he will answer your question honestly.

“Well I guess - about a month now I guess? I know i shouldve said something sooner but I just didnt want to ruin anything. I know thats kind of..shitty..” He says regretfully

Theres the honest boy you know.

“I..I didnt know” you say. Honestly you ddnt know where to go from here. You wanted to tell everyone everything about your relationship at this very moment, but werent sure if thats where Luke was going with this.

“I- What are you thinking? I understand if you want to keep things the way they are. I wanna be clear that I really dont want to force you into changing anything. I just i couldn t keep it to myself anymore” 

It was so exciting to you knowing how much Luke cared about you. The way he cares for everyone around him has always been something you admire about him. He has the biggest heart in the world and you only hoped to be at least half as caring as him. Clearly this has been on his mind for a while and he cared so mch about your feelings towards it that he didnt want to let his feelings ruin what you have.

“Luke I love you, obviously as long as you know that, thats enough for me. But i do want everyone to know that too.” you say as the lump in your throat grows and tears well in your eyes. 

You honestly didn't know why this was making you emotional. But the combination of missing him, hearing him so delicately approach you with this, and knowing this might be the moment you get to share your love for him with the world, is making it hard to get your words out right now.

“I love you so much. and I want everyone to know I do too” he says matter of factly and your heart melts completely. 

You both sit in comfortable silence over the phone for a moment as your slight sniffles fill the quiet air. 

“I dont know why im crying..” you say through quiet laughter and hear Luke share laughter in response. He was so used to you being emotional over the most random things, this not surprising him one bit.

“What can i do baby?” 

You dont even have to think twice of your next response but pretend to be contemplating anyway,

“hmmmm, come over?” you respond hopefully. It thrilled you to think he might actually say yes. Even at 1:00 in the morning.

“Absolutely,” he says with a laugh and you grin ear to ear with giddy excitement, 

“give me 20 minutes”

-

-

[millervrse]

❝ BY THE COFFEE MACHINE ❞ javier peña x reader

summary: Javier Peña doesn’t like you. You’re too nice, too bubbly, and you get on his last nerve. He didn’t get how anybody in this line of work could be so goddamn cheery all the time. Though aside from your, in his eyes, forced and fake kindness, you had no bad features, and perhaps that, added to your beauty, is what ticked him off so much. Could he learn to like you the more time passes, or would you do this dance of hatred forever?

pairing: javier peña x afab!reader

warnings, notes: EVENTUAL 18+ smut, r! has a bit of an established backstory, a few uses of y/n but only when necessary, r! has a dog, references to narcos and thus real life people and occurrences (pablo escobar, the cartel, dea, etc), ENEMIES TO LOVERS but it’s one sided because javier hates r!, r! has an established personality, grumpy x sunshine, workplace setting, javier and r! are coworkers, use of cigarettes

word count: 2.6k+

LYN SPEAKING! so this is the first chapter of, again, a finished piece that was written nearly a year ago. you can read the prologue here! and again, this is all from javier’s pov, but i’m going to throw in some nsfw chapters using second person for the economy so, yeah! enjoy! lyn out!

DO YOU WANNA KNOW? @bishtrouille @axshadows @troubledsoul-black let me know if you’d like to be added!

“Coffee,” I said simply. Her smile softened a little, and she raised her eyebrows in confusion. “What?” she asks. ❝ YOU'RE BLOCKING THE COFFEE MACHINE ❞

CHAPTER 1: FIRST IMPRESSIONS

COLUMBIA, SEPTEMBER 1982

For once in our lives of chaos, the madness had died down, and there was no new news regarding the man who had been the focus of our missions for months now.

Pablo Emilio Escobar Gaviria: A drug dealer, and a major pain in my ass.

In the years that I’ve worked Escobar’s case, the man has put the DEA, and the whole of Columbia, for that matter, through hell and back. A war of drugs has been going on under our noses, and the man behind it is an evasive ghost.

We haven’t found him because he doesn't want to be found.

Days in the office have been passing by slowly. With no new leads, and little for us to do, we’re at a loss here. Can’t tell you how much time I’ve used clicking my pens or looking through the same case files over and over again, just to see if something appears that wasn’t there before.

It hasn’t happened yet.

For the third time that morning, I got up from my seat to get a cup of coffee, since having drained mine. Murphy’s eyes snapped to mine from where he sat across from me, and he raised an eyebrow.

Murphy was the guy I’d been working with on the drug cases for a few months, and we’ve come to be pretty friendly with each other during that time. Thus, his first words when he sees me get out of my seat.

He let out a small chuckle, shaking his head at me. “You’re gonna give yourself a heart attack with all that damn caffeine,” he remarked, crossing his arms as he leaned back in his chair.

I shrugged, throwing away the paper coffee cup that I’d been drinking out of. “Murphy,” I scoffed, crossing my arms to mirror him. “If there’s a damn thing in this world that’s going to give me a heart attack, it’s going to be Escobar, not coffee.”

Murphy sighed in response. I could tell the guy was just as done with Escobar’s shit as me, even if he was better at not discussing it than me. He shrugged and rubbed his forehead before responding, “Yeah, fair enough. Drink away.”

I nodded at him, then made my way to the door.

As I made my third journey that day down to the coffee machine, I passed by the hallway where the ambassador’s office was. What was already a shitty day only worsened by the feeling I got in my gut only by looking at her door.

It was hard at the DEA, Murphy and I being the main people assigned to this case, the only two men in the world who knew as much about Escobar and his cartel as the man himself.

And regardless of that, what we knew was minimal.

While the ambassador wasn’t really our boss, just walking by her office was enough to remind me of the drug cases: And that we weren’t getting a damn thing out of them.

I shook off the feelings that crossed over me then and there, and just went on walking.

I was veering the corner to go to our break room, where the coffee machine was, when I heard and saw a view I surely hadn’t when I clocked in this morning.

“Where can I put my things?” a feminine voice rang out from down the hallway, the voice filled with a sort of cheer that wasn’t very common from those who worked here in the DEA building.

My eyes snapped to the speaker before my brain could even process it.

There was a woman at the very end of the hallway I was in, holding a brown box, presumably the “things” she had been referring to mere seconds ago. My eyebrows raised fairly quickly: I had never seen her in the office.

Because I’m sure I’d remember a face like that.

It was impossible to miss her. Her eyes seemed to mesmerize the man she was speaking to, because he was looking at her with an expression usually saved for old, married couples.

He wasn’t the only one.

I couldn’t take my damn eyes off of her: I was drawn to her appearance, and she wasn’t releasing her hold. There was a serious and assured, yet honeyed way about her. Her eyes and smile spoke volumes to what I assumed was a kind persona, but her attire, a white collared shirt, black slacks, belt, and tie, vouched for her professionalism.

It made me uneasy to get so much from her based on her appearance alone. So that was when I whirled on my heel, all but jogging back to where Murphy was.

I loped back to the room with a concerning pace, closing the door quickly behind me. Murphy’s head snapped up, and he looked at me with a concerned expression.

“Hey, hey, hey, Murphy,” I said in a hoarse voice, a little out of breath from getting here so quickly. I took a second to relax, then asked, “Who’s that girl?”

Murphy’s eyebrows raised up, and he looked at me like I’d just asked him to marry me. “What girl?” he asked as his face scrunched up in cluelessness.

I let out a huff and opened the door again to see where the woman had gone. Then, I came back in the room and waved to the window. “That girl there. All the way down the hallway,” I clarified.

Murphy got up and looked through the window that showed the hallway outside of it. His eyes landed on the woman’s, and a look of realization crossed over his face. “Oh. Oh, yeah. That’s the new girl. I think her name is Y/N,” said Murphy.

I looked at Murphy with a furrowed brow when he said that. “You knew?”

Murphy shrugged and nodded, walking back to his chair and sitting down. “I heard some folks whispering about her. She was pretty popular in her old job, I think, skilled in her field. That’s why everyone’s talking about her,” he shrugged, like the fact was common knowledge.

“And no one was gonna tell me?” I asked, crossing my arms over my chest.

“Uh, no, I guess not. Why would it matter, anyways? She won’t be working with us that much,” he responded.

“She won’t? Why not?” I asked curiously. Why was she up here, then?

“No, she’ll be working with the coaches, training the dogs for drug sniffing. She’ll be around, but—” Murphy explained, but then he suddenly cut himself off. He cocked an eyebrow. “Wait a second, why does this even matter to you, Peña?”

That got me to shut up real quick.

For one of the first times in my life, I was at a loss for words. I licked my lips as I tried to pick my brains for a response that would make sense.

But my mind was abandoned, way too preoccupied to give him a reason. Sooner or later, I just shook my head, giving myself a way out of this conversation.

“It doesn’t,” I shrugged, walking over to my desk. I ruffled through the drawers for a second, before grabbing the final cigarette from the box that I always had with me.

I took a deep breath as I made a note to myself to get more, before saying, “I just wanna know who I’m working with.”

Murphy nodded, though he didn’t really look convinced.

But the good thing was, if there was one thing Murphy knew about me, it was to never push my words. He picked up the case file that he’d been working on when I walked in the room and simply mumbled, “Yeah, okay.”

I sighed in relief, glad that he had just dropped the issue; I seriously didn’t want to talk about this right then and there. Talk about a woman.

I left the room without so much as another word, perching the cigarette in my mouth before I had even made it out of it. I usually smoked in the office, not giving much of a shit to our boss’ wish for me not to. 

But today, I obliged, making my way down the lift to go outside.

When I walked through the lobby and through the doors to exit the building, I mulled over the morning that I’d just had. Escobar’s doings may not be in plain view now, but a new sense of chaos was clearly ready to take the podium.

I lit the cigarette as I leaned on a pillar in front of the building, rubbing my forehead as a migraine began to form there. I exhaled puffs of smoke from my nose and lips, praying that it’d ease all the tension in my figure.

Fuck, what was even going on with me? Who was this girl, and why the hell was one glance her way driving me crazy?

She was just a woman. That’s all she was. And I’ve had countless experiences with women, an art that I knew like the back of my hand. I knew my way around them, and I wasn’t looking to get wrapped up in one at any point, at any time.

I’d just have to pray that this wouldn’t cause any problems in the workplace for me.

I’d have to have hope, and a hell of a goddamn lot of it.

I was walking back up to the breakroom after I’d got back to the building half an hour later. After all, I hadn’t even gotten that cup of coffee I’d been craving before leaving to have a smoke.

But when I walked in the room, I didn’t envision the first person I’d see inside of it.

The new girl.

There she was in front of me again, the same vibe that had emitted from her earlier in my presence once more: Only, it was closer to me now. She was conversing with a male coworker of mine, and they seemed to be engaged in some happy go lucky discussion, because the woman was grinning from ear to ear.

“Yeah, I figured, why not? My dog is my best friend, and I don’t want to leave her home all of the time while I’m working, you know?” she giggled as coffee poured from the coffee machine she was next to.

The man, whose name I didn’t even know, chuckled in response. “That’s crazy. So they just let you bring her, huh? And you’re gonna train her up with the other dogs?” the man asked her.

She nodded, flashing him a smile that seemed to glare off the walls. “Yeah! Pretty cool, isn’t it? I’m glad they let me. I wasn’t really sure they would,” the woman laughed, picking up her cup and taking a long sip out of it.

The man was about to answer, when his eyes finally met mine, acknowledging my presence for the first time since I’d walked in the damn room. This caused the woman to look at me too, only smiling at me.

“Yeah, well, I’m sure your dog will do well. Shepherds are pretty big, and the ones we already have do a good job,” he murmured, looking down at the ground. “Anyway, I should get back to work. You have yourself a good day, Y/N. And good luck.”

So that was her name. Guess Murphy didn’t lie.

“Peña,” he said with a professional nod and awkward smile. Then, he left the room.

When it was just her and I in there, we looked at each other for several long seconds. My eyes glazed over her, fully analyzing her appearance now that she was so much closer to me.

I furrowed my eyebrows. 

I don’t know what it was about this girl that was seriously getting to me.

She was just different. 

And I couldn’t tell if that was a good thing or a bad thing.

“Hi, I’m Y/N,” she smiled widely at me, putting her coffee cup down to offer her hand to me before giving me her last name. “I’m new to the DEA, if you couldn’t tell. It’s my first day. What’s your name?” she asked.

Her kindly demeanor unsettled me, being both refreshing and alarming. Most of the men and women on this job worked with somber faces. No feelings, small talk, laughs or smiles. Just work, work, work. It was bizarre to see someone in the DEA building beaming, like we worked in some candy shop.

Didn’t she have any idea what this job encompassed?

“Coffee,” I said simply. Her smile softened a little, and she raised her eyebrows in confusion.

“What?” she asks.

“You're blocking the coffee machine,” I clarified for her. Sure enough, she looked to her side to see that I wasn’t lying about that. She murmured a quick, “Sorry,” then moved out of the way.

“Yeah,” I groaned in response. I grabbed one of the paper coffee cups near the machine, then got to fixing myself a cup.

To my surprise, she didn’t leave the room. She crossed her arms behind me, and I could see her looking over me out of the corner of my eye. I could tell she had the urge to speak, but didn’t know how to do so.

Black coffee poured from the maker when she finally opened her mouth. “I haven’t gotten your name yet,” she murmured.

I let out a sigh, wondering why she even needed to know it. “What does it matter?” I replied without a care in the world, looking for creamer in the drawers below the machine.

“I don’t know. It doesn’t, I suppose. I just want to know,” she answered. Then, she perked up, looking at me with a new sense of hope in her eyes. I craned my head towards her for only a second, just to see that same pearly white smile she’d been wearing across her face earlier. “Do you work on this floor, too?”

I closed the paper cup with a lid as she spoke, not even realizing that I’d forgotten to add creamer to it. “Name’s Peña. Javier Peña. And I don’t do small talk,” I replied composedly, turning my body to face her. Clearly, I had yet to get used to her appearance. I’m pretty sure my heart dropped down to my ass when I laid my eyes on her again.

However much I didn’t want to talk to her, there was a fact that remained true, regardless of how it was I was feeling.

She was fucking gorgeous.

Even with my semi rude remark, she smiled at me nevertheless, giving me a little shrug. “Fair enough. It’s not everyone’s thing, especially early in the morning. I get it, Peña—”

“Agent Peña. And no, it’s not,” I said back to her. I was just about ready to leave the room, when she grabbed me by the arm, causing me to pause in my tracks.

“Wait,” she said, clearly doing her best to cling to this conversation for as long as she could.

“What?” I snapped. Though, I didn’t move her hand away.

“Do you know an Agent Murphy? I’ve been looking for him,” she asked very quickly, tilting her head. I raised an eyebrow: She had my attention with that one.

“Murphy? Yeah, he’s my partner. Why, what do you want with him?” I asked curiously, facing my body back towards hers.

“He was supposed to give me some case files on drugs, mainly cocaine. I’m going to be working with the dogs, training them on sniffing out drugs and things like that, so I kind of need them.”

I sighed, trying not to roll my eyes at her. “He’s in the office down the hall. I’ll take you there,” I annoyedly offered. That’s where I was going, anyways, so I didn’t have much of a choice.

“Great! Thank you so much. Lead the way,” she grinned in a brilliant smile, signaling to the door. I grumbled and nodded, before making my way down the hall to Murphy and I’s shared office.

What was it I was saying earlier about hope?

if you made it to the end of this, i really hope you liked it! please consider leaving a reblog, as they help my work immensely <3 kisses!

[creedslove]

TASTING 🍑

Javier Peña x f!reader

Summary: Javi teaches you something new

Warnings: smut, rimming (f!receiving), masturbation (f!receiving), dirty talking

A/N: soy tímida 😳🪭

1.2k words

“Mmm, I don't know Javi…” your voice wasn't much more than just a whisper spread in a dark room, muffled by the pillow underneath your face, eyes flickering every so often as the man all over you worked his magic in your body, claiming it as his.

Javier chuckled against your skin, always so smooth and inviting, always feeling like butter melting under his rough fingertips, the result of years working on a ranch before engaging in an equally rough police training until he made it to DEA agent and the rest was history. His hands caressed your sides, his head rested on your flesh, while you lay on your stomach, he admired your naked figure, your curves always an enticing flame to him, the way your gorgeous ass was at a display for him. It brought a powerful yearning and desire within. You felt the way Javi moved his hands over your skin, always coming back to your cheeks, stroking, caressing, slapping them and leaving a delicious burn behind.

The way you also felt his lips, dragging over your skin, light ghostly kisses on your cheeks, going all the way up the small of your back, how that devilish mustache of his scratched you all in the right places, revealed Javier's true intentions. You were so sure, you wanted to try it, but at the same time you felt embarrassed about it.

“It's okay cariño, we can stop if you don't like it… just trust me, alright mi mariposa? I just want to make you feel good” his voice wasn't much more than a purr, the same kind that would convince you to do anything he wanted; that was the problem with Javier Peña, he was a menace to you, and you loved every bit of him. Your heart pounded and your wetness flooded your cunt, feeling the familiar, tingling sensation as you reached for some friction, moving your hips towards nothing, as his hands held you in place. You wanted it, so why was the embarrassment making you so prude and stuck? It didn't make any sense, it was Javi, your Javi, and he always made you reach the sky however he could, you had nothing to fear or be ashamed of, the way a knot of longing and desire was forming down your core was driving you nuts, you could feel beads of sweat emerging from under your hair. It was time to make a decision, and to Javier, your answer would always be yes, no matter what.

“Mhmm, okay…” your voice was shaky and he chuckled, sensing how nervous you were. There was no reason for that, he'd promised to make you feel good and he was going to do it. You trusted each other, if something was a ‘no’, it would be a ‘no’. No questioning and no whining, just pure and simple respect.

“Relax, cariño… I'll take good care of you”

Javi's reassurance was more than enough, he'd always taken care of you and above all, he was an experienced man who had quite a few tricks up his sleeve, ready to show you. You closed your eyes as you felt his lips ghosting over your ass cheeks once more, his hands moved from your hips to the curve of your ass, the anticipation and anxiety building up more and more, as you couldn't wait.

Javi adjusted the pillow under you, so you could be in a comfortable position, your hips slightly lifted up as he parted your cheeks carefully. He squeezed them, they were so soft underneath his touch, his cock was already throbbing on its own only at that simple motion, but spotting your tight back home and your glistening pussy sent a whole new wave of arousal straight to his cock and he couldn't help but moan at the sight. Fuck, it was sexy, inviting, and now, it was all his. Your holes, both of them. Javier was about to show you how good having fun with the two of them could really be.

“Fuck, hermosa, you are so beautiful… such a tight little asshole” he praised you so explicitly it made your face heat up with embarrassment. Javi was so obscene and dirty and you loved it.

As he kept your cheeks spread apart, he got closer, his lips kissing them internally, as they made their way towards your core. Your pussy was already soaked, he could see how turned on you were and he just knew it was time to act. Javi ran his tongue over your pussy, loving to taste your sweet honey, exactly the way he enjoyed it, always welcoming your whimpers and purrs, but this time, he wasn't just going to pay attention to your addictive pussy, instead, he dragged his tongue over your rear hole, wetting it slowly, while he felt your muscles clenching at his soft tongue. You, on the other hand, didn't expect to feel it that way. It was good, more than good actually, it felt so intense. The way you simply spread your legs wider, wanting to give Javier more access, so you could experience it again. And at that slight movement, Javi understood your message perfectly, as he repeated his motion once more, this time faster and more intensely. Holding you spread apart, his tongue circled your asshole, licking it hungrily as all the tension in your body had dissolved. You were so at ease, grinding your hips against the pillow, feeling the slightest friction against your clit, each time you moved more, you could feel your wetness dripping down your inner thighs. Burying your fingers into the sheets, your mouth letting you the dirtiest words, moans and pleas. You called Javi's name as a prayer, because no man in the world could make you feel that way, no man would ever make you feel the way he did, it was unique, he was unique. You loved him, you wanted to tell him that, but you didn't have to, not with words when your body did all the talking, when you arched your back in pleasure and looked backwards at him, taking your free hand to his head, sinking your fingers into his messy hair and pressing his face even more so against your ass. He loved to see how good the experience was; he loved to see how hungry your holes were for him, they were all pulsating, clenching and gaping for you. He decided you deserved more than just his devilish tongue in your asshole, your needy juicy pussy also required his attention, so while he wouldn't take a break from eating your delicious ass, he took his fingers to your folds, his digits toying between them, feeling up the wetness and spreading it all over. Your clit throbbed, puffy and sensitive to his touch, as Javi rubbed it a few times until he finally inserted his fingers inside. Your cunt was so slippery, your walls squeezing his thick digits as you were already used to their presence inside of you. You'd always been so good to him. Javi didn't waste time and began moving his hand, fingering you at the same pace his tongue worked his magic in your ass. And all you could do was to give in to him, offer yourself on a silver platter for Javier. He owned you, even more so when he made you cum that hard. After showing you how good it felt to have both holes involved in your fun. It was just the beginning, you knew it. Javi would take you entirely as his, but you wanted more and more. He was capable of giving you the pleasure you never dreamed you could get one day and you loved him for that.

_____

[toomanystoriessolittletime]

OMFG all those six sentences fics are so hot 🥵

Could you do one with "I want to fuck you for the last of my life, marry me" by our favorite DEA agent, Javier Peña.

awww thank you! I have so much fun writing these!

Pairing: Javier Peña x fem. reader

Warnings: accidental marriage proposal?, implied smut, the beginnings of a handjob?, it's not that smutty tbh I think

"I want to fuck you for the rest of my life, marry me," you heard Javi say against your ear.

You were laying in bed, him spooning you from behind, you both still out of breath, his cock still inside of you, having spent the whole Sunday morning in bed with each other.

You were pretty sure he could feel the way your heart started beating faster, his hand still groping one of your boobs, arm wrapped around your chest. Slowly, you felt his cock slip out of you, you turned in his arms so you could look at him.

He was biting his lip as he looked at you, eyes hesitant as you cuddled yourself against him, one of his hands coming to rest on your cheek.

"Didn't actually plan to ask like this but, fuck your pussy makes me dumb," his eyes widened again and you laughed, kissing him softly.

"Ask me again," you mumbled against his lips and he took a deep breath.

"Marry me?" he whispered and you smiled as you kissed him, one of your hands running down his chest, until it wrapped around his half hard cock.

"Yes, Javi," you slowly pumped his cock, "I'll marry you so you can fuck me for the rest of your life."

[elizaleclerc]

epiphany 📠 ⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩

"just one single glimpse of relief / to make some sense of what you've seen"

summary: fem!reader and javier deal with the aftermath of a traumatic mission

song: epiphany by taylor swift

word count: 2.6k

author's note: first javi fic yippie. hella angst / nightmare trope / mentions of death / hurt/comfort / 18+ but no smut just fluff / established relationship / DEA agent reader / translated spanish

The car ride back to your apartment was suffocatingly quiet, the weight of grief hanging heavily in the air. The familiar streets flew by as Javier drove, but you couldn't focus on anything other than the images burned into your mind. As a DEA agent for over a year, you had seen your fair share of horrors, but never before had you witnessed something so gruesome right in front of you. It was easier to read about these things in paperwork, detached and removed from the reality of it all. But now, the memory of it all was haunting and raw, replaying in vivid detail with every passing second.

Your head felt numb, as if a thick fog had settled over your thoughts. Your whole body felt heavy and weighed down, as if invisible chains were holding you back. The sensation in your stomach was nauseating, like being on a rollercoaster that never seemed to end. Even though you wanted to vomit, you knew it would be futile - your body was too weak to even try. Even Javier, known for his stoic demeanor and ability to handle tough missions, was uncharacteristically quiet. The only sound filling the car was the low muttering of the engine. Not even the radio provided any source of distraction or comfort in this tense moment.

Javier expertly parked the car in the driveway of your shared apartment, the smooth engine purring to a stop. The dim yellow glow of the streetlights illuminated his face as he turned to you, concern etched into his features. But you didn't move to get out of the car, your gaze fixed on something far off and unreachable. Javier's gentle touch on your hand jolted you back to reality. "Hey," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper, "let's get inside where it's warm." His words were like a lifeline, pulling you out of the depths of your thoughts. He understood the weight that was pressing down on you - he was carrying it too.

You nodded, and languidly pushed the car door open and scooted out of the passenger seat. Your legs felt like noodles, weak and wobbly from the energy you exerted on today’s mission. Javier put his arm around you, his thumb delicately circling the top of your shoulder.

Javier's keys jingled in the lock as he turned the handle of the front door, and the familiar scent of the apartment enveloped you like a warm embrace. After hours of feeling disoriented and disconnected since returning from the mission, this was the first sense of comfort that washed over you. The office had been a blur, with memories of sitting at your desk attempting to file paperwork but unable to even type on the typewriter. But now, as you lazily walked into the apartment, everything slowly started to feel real again. Javier set his keys down on the sleek kitchen island, and you followed him aimlessly, your mind finally starting to settle from its chaotic state.

“I’m gonna assume you aren’t hungry?” He asked, his voice still soft. You shook your head no. He nodded, “What do you need?”

As you lifted your gaze to meet his, you couldn't help but notice the deep brown pools of concern gazing back at you. But beneath that concern, you could see a deeper turmoil brewing - the weight of today's mission and countless others weighing heavily on his shoulders. "I don't know," you croaked, your voice hoarse from screaming and covered in dust. You weren't even sure if Javier could hear you over the ringing in your ears. Tears welled up in your eyes as flashes of today's horrors replayed in your mind like a never-ending nightmare.

“Listen, you have to talk about what happened today,” he said urgently. In his experience, keeping everything bottled up inside only made things worse. He leaned across the counter, his elbows propping him up as he reached out to hold your hand in his. His touch was warm and comforting. “Tell me, cariño, what's going through your mind right now?” His dark eyes searched yours with concern and empathy as he waited for you to open up to him.

More images flashed through your head. Your throat burned trying to hold back more tears. “I should’ve done more to save them…”

He sighed, “Mi amor, you can’t think that way. You and I both know we did our very best today. The ‘what ifs’ will only haunt you if you let them.” Javier’s voice was persistent yet comforting. This wasn’t his first rodeo, so you knew he was probably telling the truth.

“How do we go to work tomorrow like nothing happened?” Your voice cracked out, and Javier squeezed your hands.

“Everyone in that office apart from the damn secretaries have experienced days like this. They know what we’re going through. We take as much time as we need to get back into the swing of things, and we persist. That’s all we can do, querida.”

You stood in silence, the words caught in your throat as Javier moved around the spacious apartment. The soft glow of golden lights flickered against the dark walls, casting shadows across his face. He poured two glasses of whiskey from a crystal decanter, the sound of clinking ice cubes filling the room. He slid one glass towards you and you reached out to take it, feeling the coolness of the glass against your fingertips. You brought it to your lips and took a slow sip, letting the warm liquid spread through your body and soothe your racing thoughts. In the background, Javier shuffled around the living room before the smooth melody of an oldies music vinyl began to fill the air.

As you made your way into the room, the smell of Javier's cologne mixed with the remnants of cigarette smoke enveloped your senses. You could feel his warmth radiating from the couch as he sat there, whiskey glass in hand, waiting for you. As you slouched down beside him, your body immediately relaxed, finding solace in his comforting presence and scent. The tension in your muscles began to melt away, and silent tears escaped your eyes once again. The weight of the day's events was finally settling in, and you were now more aware of your memories and surroundings than ever before. With each passing moment, you were forced to confront the aftermath of the mission and all that it entailed.

You sniffled as Javier scooted you closer to him. You laid your head down next to his chest and he caressed the side of your arm. “I know, I know.” He whispered as your tears wet his shirt underneath you.

He wasn’t just saying that to comfort you, he really did know. His own memories of tough missions flashed through his head. He remembered when he witnessed his first death on the job. He knew the feelings of regret and guilt that now lingered inside of you. He had gotten better at coping with the aftermath and trauma of missions, but that’s one thing that the DEA doesn’t teach you.

Once most of your tears had subsided, your mind was back to feeling blank. However, you recognized the song that was now playing from the record player. It was a soft oldies song that you and Javier once slow danced to. You thought it was cheesy at the time, but Javier convinced you to dance with him. He could persuade you to do just about anything.

Javier shifted and got up from the couch, your body sinking into the cushions slightly with his absence. You looked at him curiously as he held out his hand, “Dance with me, amor.”

You almost huffed out a laugh, but couldn’t muster up the energy. “Really, now?” He simply nodded in response. You sighed, and slowly got up from the couch.

You moved closer to him, relishing the warmth and strength of his embrace. His arms encircled your waist, pulling you in close as his fingers traced gentle patterns on your back. You closed your eyes, sinking into the feeling of being held by someone who loved you. In the background, the soft melodies of the song played, transporting you to a distant memory. It was the first time you had heard this song, dancing with Javier in this very apartment. The room was filled with cardboard boxes waiting to be unpacked, but Javier was too eager to set up his treasured record player. A fond smile graced your lips as you swayed together, lost in each other's presence.

“Te quiero mucho (I love you so much)” Javier muttered as he placed a kiss at the top of your head. His hands slowly moved up your arms, holding you tightly to him. It was as if he was so worried he could’ve lost you today that he didn’t want to ever let go of you.

“I love you too Javi,” You rested your head onto his chest. You were finally feeling a sense of peace, a sense that you could go on tomorrow and be almost okay.

“Cmon, let’s call it a night.” Javier sighed and you looked up at him and into his brown puppy eyes that held so much love for you. His lips placed a soft kiss onto yours. A kiss that wasn’t meant to lead to anything else. A kiss that stated he was here, just for you to love.

As the minutes ticked by, you both showered and changed into fresh, cozy clothes. Finally, you found yourselves snuggled up together in bed, with Javier's strong arms wrapped around you from behind. His soft lips pressed against your neck and shoulder, leaving a trail of gentle kisses that sent shivers down your spine. The soothing tempo of his breathing next to yours was like a lullaby, easing you into a peaceful slumber.

That was when the nightmare started. You were back inside the shabby house from earlier. Windows were broken and wooden boards were rotted. You couldn’t believe that anyone actually lived there. You held your gun down tightly by your thigh, just the way that Carillo had taught you. Javier was leading in front of you, and Steve was following behind you.

You heard a glass shatter from upstairs and immediately turned your head towards Javier and Steve, knowing looks shared between the three of you. Your mind seemed to fast forward this awful dream. There were three small children being held as hostages, and two men who the DEA had been trying to track down for months. You had your gun pointed at one of the men, Javier and Steve pointing theirs at the second man. Steve was trying to reason with them, but this was an impossible scenario. Your mind was racing but also laser focused. How could you get them to surrender to the DEA and also let the children go? From what you could tell these children were just pulled off the street, their innocent souls only being used as collateral for a scheming drug cartel.

Before you knew it, guns were firing and you lunged back behind a piece of furniture. You heard the voices of Steve and Javier yelling and trying to fight the men, but it was too late. You stood up and scanned the room, your eyes shifting from Javier to Steve, who were trying to catch their breath, then to the three small bodies lying on the ground.

Your own blood-curdling scream tore through the silence, jolting you awake. In an instant, Javier's strong arms enveloped your trembling body, soothing and comforting you in his warm embrace. Your chest heaved with ragged breaths and tears streamed down your cheeks as you struggled to regain control of your emotions. "Shh, it's okay, I'm here, you're safe," Javier murmured tenderly, gently stroking your hair and rubbing your back. Gradually, your breathing slowed and your heart rate returned to normal as the nightmare faded away. But the fear lingered, a palpable presence in the air. It took several minutes before you could calm yourself enough to speak.

You sat up and put your head in your hands. Javier rubbed your lower back as he sat up with you. “Do you want to talk about it?” He asked, and you thought for a moment.

With teary eyes you looked over at him. “They were just kids, Javi. They didn’t do anything wrong.” Your throat burned and more tears fell. Javier pulled you into him so that your head laid on his chest.

“I know. We are gonna do everything we can to get the bastards who took those kids from their families.” He massaged the side of your arm.

“Javi…” You whispered slowly and moved away to look him in the eyes. You grabbed his hand, running your fingers lightly across his knuckes. “You always talk about raising a family. I always loved imagining a bunch of little Javis running around,” a smile tugged at your lips but disappeared in an instant, “but after today…” Your voice trailed off but Javier was waiting for you to continue. His sad eyes were locked onto your face as you stared at his hands in yours. “I want a family, I really do. But I just think about those kids today. What if those were our kids. Kids who just wanted to play out on the street, and now…”

“Oh angel,” His voice was raspy and you looked up to see tears in his own eyes. “I love you so much, and I know your pain, because it’s mine too. Not a day goes by that I don’t worry about our future, about our family. When we get to that point, where we’re ready to settle down, I’ll take an office job. I won’t care what I’ll do at that point. We’ll move anywhere we want, as long as I have you, and any little ones we bring along.” He smiled lightly as his hand came to rest on your jaw. His words brought tears to your eyes. You didn’t realize how much Javier thought about the future between the two of you. He had a plan for every scenario; he would quit his job tomorrow if it meant having you by his side.

“I love you Javi,” You whispered and planted a small kiss to his cheek.

“Eres mi vida (You are my life), I don’t know what I’d do without you.” He moved his hand down to the back of your neck, pulling you in for a soft kiss. It was so gentle, like he knew how fragile you still felt. His lips felt like the softest silk and the warmest blanket. “Let’s get you back to sleep now.”

“I’m sorry- for waking you up,” You apologized as you laid back down on your pillow. Javier laid facing you, his arms shifting you closer.

“You didn’t wake me. I remember my first nightmare from a mission. I wanted to be awake to help you through yours.” He explained in a low, tired voice. He sacrificed his own sleep just so he could console you when yours was interrupted.

“Oh,” you muttered. You wrapped an arm around his torso. God, you thought, you would be totally lost without him.

You saw Javier smiling to himself, “You’re stronger than you think querida.”

You just shook your head, “I don’t know that I did to deserve you Javi…”

His hand lightly massaged the side of your hip, “You’ve got the purest heart of anyone I’ve ever met, cariño.” He kissed the top of your head, and before you knew it your eyelids felt heavy and you were pulled into sleep again.

Javier sighed to himself, “Dulces sueños mi amor. (Sweet dreams my love.)”

[crickets-aphtism-space]

Line ups!!!

i have my reasons as to why they're in vacation attire, i swear these aren't just starlight redesigns LMAO

more hcs + alt versions below the cut!!

Aph shaved the right side of her head with Zane, cause he was nervous of doing it by himself (but if anyone asks, she did it cause she thought it looked cool.)

Katelyn and Dante both have phoenix tattoos, they aren't matching or anything they just both thought they were cool. Katelyn's is small just above her right thigh but Dante's is one that goes over his back.

Aaron always wears his bandana. in my brain he's never been able to control his eyes.

Kim works at a library with Zane, and they have this weird friendship where they don't really know each other but talk every so often while the library's quiet.

Lucinda was born with feint markings all over her body, but they grew more vibrant as she developed her witchcraft

Travis was also born with witchcraft markings, but he chooses to hide them. you know, until starlight.

Aaron has absolutely no sense of style

Zane has a tramp stamp tattoo he got when he was drunk LMAO. hes also got a semicolon tattoo on the left side of his neck

This isn't even a headcannon, I was gonna put Garroth and Katelyn in matching shirts but then I realised that it would probably just look like Garroth stole her shirt KJFSJKDF

zane straightens his hair. and the head damage is BAD he has like 2C hair that hes been straightening WET.

Kim's had long hair her whole life, and never really wanted to change it. but then one day Lucinda offered to get it cut and dyed for her to 'up her confidence' and honestly she really likes it :3

Travis can shapeshift, he's always been able to but pre-starlight it was just simple things, like changing his hair hiding certain aspects of himself. but after he's able to do a lot more (he just doesn't really like to.)

Dante can dance he does hip hop mainly (NO I AM NOT BIASED!!)

now, for last names. Katelyn Fortin - Fortin, meaning Strong. Dante Leto - Leto, meaning hidden. or Forgotten. Lucinda Hawthorne - I feel like this ones self explanatory LMAO Kim Navon - Navon, meaning Wise. Aphia Dea'Matrona - Aphia; excellent, most important. Dea'Matrona; Dea matrona is the spanish translation of 'The Matron'

Alt Drawings!!

[luvpedropascal]

the light

summary: javi rethinks his position at the DEA after you are put in danger because of his job.

pairing: older!javier peña x gn!reader

contents: talks of minor injury, reader is put in danger, javi has an anxiety disorder, intrusive thoughts are depicted

wc: 853

an: okay so i know i disappeared off the face of the earth for like over a year but i’ve been lurking and waiting for inspiration to hit me and! it finally did! i’m hoping i won’t go right back into writers block after this, bc i have soooo many fic ideas for you guys. this is just a little one to start, so i hope you guys enjoy!

—

“Javi, baby, look at me. I’m okay.” You said, taking his hands into yours tentatively. They were trembling slightly, almost like an extension of his quivering lips.

You got caught between him and a cartel member. Stupid, yes, but you had just gotten nicked, the injury so minor that you didn’t even need stitches. He got to you just a fraction of a second later. Soon enough to you, too late to him. His team took down the guy immediately, while Javi froze for a second, looking between you and the body laying across from you. Running over to you, he cursed when he saw the blood, his eyes wide with fear. A mixed string of anxious questions, apologies, and curses was spilling from his lips, so incoherent that you were worried he would pass out from the stress.

“Javi.” You repeat firmer this time, giving his hands a gentle squeeze. His eyes finally landed on yours for more than a second, filled with a look of pure guilt you had never seen in them before.

His fear of losing all of this, you, was consuming him. Already, he was picturing himself losing your future together, the possibility of kids, building a home together. It was swallowing him up so quickly that you wondered if you would even get a chance to show him that it was just a little scratch on your shoulder, thankfully. The only reasoning he could find for this whole situation was that he was at fault. He was too slow. Too old. Too distracted.

Before you could calm him down, he was rushing you over to the paramedics, demanding, rather harshly, that they treat you immediately. They cleaned the tiny wound, applying a bandage no more sophisticated than a normal bandaid. You were free of any other injuries and within a few minutes, you were turning to Javi again. He had that look in his eyes still, and without another thought you wrapped your arms around him. He let out a deep breath, pressing his nose into your shoulder.

“Let’s go home, yeah?” You murmured.

Javi carried that guilty look home with him. You had both taken deep breaths together, grateful that your injury was so minor. Both of you had calmed down for the other, making yourself available for comfort. But even now as you laid on the couch with him, your legs curled underneath you and your head resting on his chest, you could feel how tense he was against you. The arm he had wrapped around you had a certain weight to it, like he was scared to let you go but just as scared to touch you.

You could tell he was thinking about something, his expression looking so distant and unfocused. There was a space between the two of you as you let him sit with his thoughts, not wanting to disturb him just yet. He took his time, holding you close, purposefully entangled.

“I’m taking the job,” he said, after a long silence.

Looking up at him, you furrowed your brows a little in confusion.

“The lead agent job. The 9-5. M’done chasing around these guys for leads, putting you in danger.. I’m too old, too tired, too slow.”

You looked at up him with worry, parting your lips to speak before he interrupts you, “Baby-“.

Javi shakes his head, “I’ll be home for dinner, making more money. We could save up, get a new place.”

“Baby” you reach up to cup his cheek, “If this is because of what happened, please don’t quit. I’m okay, you’re okay. Everything’s okay, these things happen.”

This look flickers through his eyes, something you’ve never seen in him before. He looks younger for a moment, just a boy. A scared- No, terrified, boy. His eyes gloss over the slightest bit, and he shakes his head again, weaker this time.

“Once was enough. I just- I c-can’t, okay? I can’t do this anymore, not after today.”

His voice shakes a little this time, your heart breaking as that fear becomes more obvious. For a second, you consider countering him, but there’s no point. Javi’s about as avoidant as they come when it comes to his anxiety, but this was different. This was visceral and rooted in logic, and you quickly realize that there was no way he’d change his mind.

Nodding softly, you sit up and hug him around his neck, “Okay. You’ll take the job.”

He nods quickly, desperately into your shoulder, those words reassuring him, “M’taking the job.”

You repeat it back to him a few times, processing this change with him every time he repeats it. Running your hand up into his hair, you stroke his short curls, soothing him. Javi’s mind shifts from obsessive images of you, injured or worse, that his brain creates just to haunt him, to a future he can now guarantee. A safe, predictable future. One where he can be home every night for you, and hopefully your kids one day. The new thoughts calm him and he lets out a deep breath, sighing against you.

“Thank you.”

[crossingthedreams]

falling stars — javier peña x f!reader

masterlist | day 18 (@angstober) — falling stars

word count: 1.4k

warnings: angst, trauma, car-bomb, break-ups, no use of y/n, not proofread. 

“You see, the whole shooting star concept has nothing to do with an actual star”, your monologue about astronomy began several minutes ago, and Javier was listening patiently, with a small smile on his face, “It’s a misconception. A falling star is actually just dust or rocks falling into the Earth’s atmosphere and burning up”.

“So you could say they’re all… dust in the wind?”, Javi's eyes widened with his joke as he smiled and you laughed. 

“Wow, you really are witty. Congratulations for all this brain power, Javier Peña”, you mocked him, one hand coming up close to his face and making a circular motion. He chuckled, and looked back up to the night sky. 

This was your second date with the DEA agent living in Medellín. You had been reallocated to the United States Consular Office in Medellín after sometime in Austria and, afterwards, East Timor. Being a career diplomat in the lowest rankings, you had less attributions than the Ambassador. But in Medellín, there were no safe positions in politics, diplomacy or law enforcement, regardless of ranking. 

You didn’t feel safe, but you didn’t deal directly with drug lords like the DEA folks did. It was easier for you to go about your day, and focus on communism other than drug trafficking. 

As the only other woman in the Diplomatic Mission in Colombia, you were used to dealing with self-important pathetic jerks. One day, though, you were so pissed off you were stomping through the hallways when you bumped into a tall brown-eyed man with a gorgeous suit, which made you drop your coffee, and when he began to apologize you just yelled at him with some profanity in German. 

Your time in Austria really paid off. 

The man next to him, a cute blond guy, was open-mouthed staring at you. When you realized you were being the jerk now, you apologized and introduced yourself. 

“I’m not used to this place just yet, it’s quite different from the other Consulates I’ve been”, you tried to explain yourself without accidentally cursing high-ranking officers who could make your life hell. Maybe tossing your hair and blinking your eyes would make that man, whoever he was, let you get away with being an ass to him before 10a.m.. 

The shy flirting always worked, as the man had no reaction other than to smile at you. He introduced himself as Javier Peña, from the DEA, and asked what you were doing after work that night. 

The rest was history, and that’s how you ended up strolling through the gardens of the nice Hotel you were staying as the touch-ups your place needed were being finalized. You were pondering inviting Javi up when you saw a shooting star, and, thus, the astronomy monologue. 

Strolling in silence for a little while, the two of you didn’t meet one another’s gaze. It was a typical end-of-date dance, and the ball was in your hands as you both approached the entry of the hotel. 

You stopped and turned to look at him better. He was such a beautiful man, and yet, he was all alone. What must it be like to grow up this beautiful?, you thought. You had to fight the urge to pass your fingers through his hair, which seemed softer than cotton. 

The words “do you want to come up?” were practically coming out of your mouth already when a loud sound came from the streets. 

Javi’s body was shielding yours before you could even realize what was going on. From the corner of your eye, you saw fire. There were screams coming from the outside too, and a part of you had to contain yourself from walking towards the chaos and try to help out somehow. 

Your hands were protecting your head, and Javi was protecting you. The both of you squatted down and waited as the sounds died down a bit.

From the looks of it, and from your experience in these situations, a car had blown up. 

“Are you okay?”, Javi half-yelled, his hands cupping your face and scanning for any bruises. You nodded yes as he lifted you to your feet. His hands moved from your face to your hips, and he guided you inside with care. 

Even amidst this terrible scenario, he made your heart flutter. 

Javi mumbled something about being right back and for you to stay put, and went to the reception to borrow their phone. Probably calling his office or his partner. You turned to watch the streets, and your suspicions confirmed themselves: a car blown up, still in flames, in the middle of the street. 

No one seemed to be hurt badly, at least there was that. You look around the lobby to try and find someone you could help, something you could do, but you were much too stunned still. 

That couldn’t have been for you, could it? 

As your eyes wander the venue, the realization this might very well be some sort of warning for Javi hit you like a wall of bricks. The man who held your hand and laughed earlier today at the hotel’s restaurant was also a DEA agent working to catch some really bad guys. Your job was talking and writing legal documents, whilst his was on the field, with a gun, actually chasing drug lords and their minions. 

What the fuck were you getting yourself into?

You watched Javi walk back towards you, hands on his hips. He was so handsome, and you wanted him in a way that would make even the devil himself blush. But you couldn’t have him, could you? Not like this, with men who put bombs in cars lurking in every corner. 

When Javi was close enough to hear you, you opened your mouth to speak, and he motioned to a quieter corner. Without saying anything, you accompanied him and watched him as he sat and let his head fall to his hands. 

He let out a deep sigh, not meeting your gaze, and pulled a pack of Marlboro from his pocket.

“Our being here is much like those falling stars of yours, y’know”, he looked defeated as he lit his cigarette. “We’re small rocks, dust, falling in this strange environment and burning ourselves up, and everything near, in the process”. 

The smoke he let out made twirls in the air before disappearing, in quite a mesmerizing manner. 

You did want to see him more, but what future was there between the two of you?

You didn’t want to be at his funeral anytime soon, and Javi was driving himself into an early grave. You were sure he knew this, and you had your suspicions he only took you out because he wanted to fuck and thought you’d be casual, and comfortable with his lifestyle. You were fine with being a hookup, but it wasn’t okay to spend a Friday night wondering if he didn’t call, not because there might be some other girl in the picture, but because he was dead. 

You wouldn’t deal with this again. Life had already taken too much from you too soon. 

There was a part of you that didn’t want to let Javi go home alone tonight. Not because of the sex — you weren’t in the mood, and most likely, neither was he — but because he might need a friend. 

“You should maybe hang out with Steve”, you suggested, trying to play the dismissal as care. Because you did care. 

His brown eyes looked up at you, cigarette still burning between his fingers. His eyes gazed down and he let out a small and sad smile.

He stood up and kissed you on the cheek, the smell of smoke and of Javi intoxicated you. “I had fun”, he mentioned, one hand holding your arm. He squeezed once before letting go. “Stay in touch, okay?”.

You didn’t find the strength in you to reply. Instead, you watched him walk away, into the busy street. You thought he’d go straight home, but no. He went to the policeman who was around the burnt car. 

Men like Javi, like your father… They had this need to act at all times. Never prioritizing  themselves or their loved ones, always with the big picture in mind, hurting all the individuals to protect the vast majority. Being a new version of your mother, going through sleepless nights worrying as she did, that would never work for you. 

You turned around, and went to your room. Javier stayed, and helped out the police. Simple as that, and yet, somehow, it was more complicated than ever for you. 

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a/n: i’m posting day 18 on day 22 because not only was i terribly sick, i also ran out of ideas, lol. so, if you happen to have any ideas for the prompts of this angstober, i’d love to hear them, on dm or ask. this IS a cry for help, because i want to write more, i just dunno where to start.

[kairiscorner]

he is me and i am him (also i updated my masterlist, i put a jjk section !!)

(reblogs are greatly appreciated, it helps get my content out there! if you guys like what you see, please reblog it too <:D)

he's so sorry he made you cry... kinda. – teen!satoru gojo x reader

summary: he was never a nice guy, you knew that, but even so... he does have a heart, a literal anatomical one; he's just never shown you how much you make it beat like crazy. pairing: teen!satoru gojo x reader genre: lil' bit of angst and a whole lot of comfort and fluff 🫶🫶🫶

satoru gojo is a little shit. well, a head and a half taller than you piece of shit, but who cares? you do, a little bit, but the fact he's so much taller than you isn't what bothered you—it's the fact that he effortlessly makes you feel shitty about yourself.

satoru gojo was the worst guy you ever met, and you've met all kinds of douchebags in your life—but he definitely takes the cake. he's insensitive, crass, lazy... he's everything you hate in a person. you had no idea how anybody could like him. the only reason you hang around him is because you're friends with shoko and geto, no other reason. you'd kick him out if you could, but you didn't wanna hurt the two of them so you just... had to bear him and his shitty attitude.

satoru gojo was so boisterous, he always filled the silence with his stupid jokes and gags that you were surprised anyone would laugh at. he was so noisy... it was like he wanted his voice to be remembered by everyone, especially you.

satoru gojo doesn't know when enough is enough when it comes to you, he assumes that your angry, annoyed face is a face you make when he's doing a good job at riling you up–and it is, but he's yet to understand just how mean he can really be towards you. he thinks that a lot of his jokes towards you always come across the way he wants them to; they're just harmless little jabs at you, no biggie... until he jabs you a little too hard that tears start falling from the corner of your eyes.

satoru gojo knows nothing, nothing, about comforting people when they're crying–he's unsure why you're even crying in the first place. if he wanted to make you cry, he'd've done much worse than just poke some fun at you and tease you for a few of your shortcomings, but he never meant to make you cry. he teased you that you were a crybaby, a sensitive little cutie that gets pissed about everything. turns out, he was partially right, you were indeed expressive with your emotions, but only when they reach the boiling point, and you just... can't take his bullshit anymore.

satoru gojo had never seen you so vulnerable before; he had always thought you were the type to not get so affected by some guy's unsolicited opinion, but he wasn't just some guy to you... he was satoru gojo for crying out loud; and you didn't care if he was some hotshot sorcerer or womanizer or anybody else important or well-known or liked–he was an asshole, he... he shouldn't have affected you this much. you weren't angry at him, at least not anymore, you were more angry at yourself for letting his words get to you.

satoru gojo felt awkward and a bit unsure of what to do as he watched you cry, with you trying your hardest to wipe your tears away amidst you sobbing a whole new batch of tears. it was like his words had cut so deep into your heart that you forgot how to close the faucet of your tears. you were so mad... how could a jerk like him get to you that well?

satoru gojo would've left you right then and there for you to deal with the aftermath of his overstepping, like hell did he want an earful from shoko and geto from his idiocy and insensitivity again, but there was just something about your pathetic little self that gojo felt compelled to deal with, to... console.

satoru gojo hates this feeling, he hates feeling responsible for feelings that aren't even his. you would think that for a guy who gets a lot of praise from people for his looks and abilities, he'd know how to deal with them and get them off his back–but he doesn't. he sighs as he looks away from you, his brows furrowed together in agitation as he tries to settle with himself that he shouldn't stay, he shouldn't try comforting you when he doesn't even have the faintest idea on how to even start.

satoru gojo sighs and groans loudly as he crouches to level with you, rubbing the back of his neck as he tried to collect his thoughts. "oi, crybaby, look at me." he said to you in a snappy voice as you looked up at him with angry eyes, your vision being blurred as the tears obscured your sight. if your goal was to make gojo feel bad, well you were doing a semi-bad job; he doesn't yield to anybody's tears, or at least, he didn't until he became the reason you cried for the first time.

satoru gojo sighed again as he took off his sunglasses, wanting to face you fully, show you he isn't kidding around. you looked away from him again as you buried your face in your palms, your muffled sobs getting louder as gojo approached you. "c'mon now, crybaby... y'know i didn't really wanna make you weep–crying doesn't look good on you." he muttered as he gently grabbed your wrists and pulled them away from your face, seeing your eyes dripping with tears and your nostrils wet with snot.

satoru gojo chuckled as he saw your usually prim and proper face being all disheveled and wet, to believe he was the first guy in a long while to make you sob isn't that unbelievable–and though he felt a small pang in his chest that urged him to cheer you up, he kinda found this other side of you as... kinda adorable.

satoru gojo gently wiped your tears away with the pads of his thumbs, chuckling lowly as he did; muttering how swollen your eyes look now, how they–despite him saying that crying didn't suit you–you looked really pretty with this more somber look on your face. "for a crybaby, you sure look kinda pretty after sobbing. it's pathetic, sure, but... kinda hot as well." he said in a hushed voice that was laced with mischief as he stuck his tongue out at you as you looked at him all angrily, as if you were about to hit him for what he said.

satoru gojo laughed loudly when you said you weren't a crybaby, you just... you just felt a little vulnerable. "yeah, yeah, say what you want to feel better, crybaby. and, so i can see you smile that impish little grin again..." he uttered as he leaned closer to you–his aquamarine blue eyes locking with your own as he stared into the pretty hue of your irises–and says with a wide smirk on his face: "i'm sorry..." and he blows a raspberry at your face and chuckles. "kinda." he ends as he pulls away from you, pinching your cheek all the while. he dons on his sunglasses as he pinches your cheeks again, noticing how bite-able they are. some things just never change, do they? well, at least you heard the satoru gojo speak an apology, even if it was fake, or semi-fake.