#and had a few shots for courage and excuses

[hidtired]

Love Burns

(Daryl Dixon x Reader) Masterlist

Description: Some way somehow you crawled your way back from death. All to get back into the arms of one man. Daryl and the rest of the group were taking your death hard, your death was gruesome. So your disheveled arrival back to them was unfathomable… (Duel POVs)

6.1k words

Fall felt like winter. In a place made of concrete it was decided something needed to be done before winter truly came. The prison still needed a lot of work but with the new people of Woodbury things were getting done a lot faster. Only thing lacking was supplies. So a team was round up to go to a near hardware warehouse. Glenn, Maggie, Rick, Daryl, You, Carol, Sasha, Tyrese, and a few Ex Woodbury people headed out for as much as they all could carry. It was Hershel who suggested that this was dire because someone could get sick and that was supplies we just couldn’t spare. So… this wasn’t all for nothing. This run was the greater good for the prison. Even if it all went wrong by dusk. Even if it cost your life.

Almost all the cars had been full of things. It was decided to send a few of the new people back to empty their trucks and comeback. The chill was numbing everyone’s hands as they moved things back and forth. A fire was started inside the chain link fence. The U haul parked close to it to blocked the wind. Daryl had taken his bike, the psycho. But you had to admit the leather jacket he now wore looked good on him. You and Daryl, still no label but something was there. If the time spent cuddling him every chance you got inside the cellblock said anything. Always using the excuse you were cold, which wasn’t wrong. You’ve both kissed but that had happened only a few times. The only reason you had both gotten so close was the time spent after the farm fell.

It was decided in your mind after this run you would put all your card on the table. So while you were in the warehouse grabbing future farm tools Daryl walked past you making you turn and speak, “Hey, wanna share what little whiskey I have left when we get back.” Daryl turned a small smirk barely noticeably, he grunted before speaking, “Bring out booze? Must be a special occasion.” You glance away then back to him, gathering courage, “Just thought maybe it was about time we talked.” You smiled and walked past him with your head held high mimicking confidence. Little did you know you made the hair on the back of his neck stand and his heart beat just that much faster.

Finally dusk was fast approaching and everyone was gathered around the fire discussing before getting ready to leave. You sat staring into the fire half listening to the chatter of everyone. You had your arms around yourself trying to stop the wind. You were playing out things in your mind to say to Daryl. Trying to develop a way to get your feelings across. Strange how things escalate to life or death. Your peaceful gaze into the now hot coals was interrupted with sounds of gun shots drowned with screams and sounds of the dead marching. It was damn unlucky to have had two herds merge into each other at the warehouse. It was frantic but quick. You had been left to put of the fires. You had waited by the last smoldering one to beat the cold before all of you departed. When the gun fire and screams started you hadn’t thought to look behind you with all the action in front of you.

You heard a thunk before you felt something fall on top of you pulling you to the ground by your legs. You kicked and thrashed killing the walker that snuck up on you. However you noticed a wave of walkers now pulled down a part of the fence with their eyes dead set on you. A few slipping out of through holes in the fence. You unhooked your side arm from its place on your thigh. Pulling the knife you apparently stuck into the walker that jumped you. You look all around you trying to navigate options. But the situation that had originally got your attention also seemed to escalate with another wave of walkers come from every direction. That’s when your awareness made you freeze all together. A pain to your side close to your back. Lifting the layers of your cloths a mark of teeth bleed.

You had been bite.

Ice filled your veins, fear. Your grip tightened on your weapons. You stare as walkers closed the distance. Your name rung in your ears. Daryl scream for your attention, you slowly turned to him. He was a distance away behind a fence with others who seemed to escape the first wave they’d met. Even if you hadn’t been bite to may blocked your way to run into any means of safety. Daryl waved his hands trying beckon you to run to him. He looked like he was going to jump the already bending fence to get to you. Other faces you recognized to be the family you had found yelling in panic along with Daryl’s. You slowly pulled your shirt turning to them. Blood ran down dripping into your pants from the deathly injury. Others seeming to realize what had happened.

“NOOOOOOO!”

The pained yell Daryl had ripped out from himself being followed by the snapping fence falling to the pressure of the herd. Daryl still stood even with the danger coming to him, Rick clearly holding him back with Glenn running over to help drag him away. You smiled at Daryl some tears running down your face, probably the last Daryl will see it as his face disappeared from your sight. You turned around to the herd closer to you. A few walkers had gotten closer to you than you thought. This was your last stand. You fired gunshot after gunshot while managing to kill some with your knife. You tripped on one of the bodys you had put down. You fell expecting to quickly get back up and continue your count down to death bringing any dead bastard with you. But a flare of unexpected pain at your landing made a blood curdling scream vibrate into the air. You had landed into the fire pit. Hot coals with little flame burning you. Ambers exploding around you with your fall. Your open wound on your side sizzles adding more pain to the specific area. You instinctively jumped up away from the pit. Groaning while you forced yourself to stand vision blurred and legs wobbling.

It’s funny… to know you’re about to die. You could never imagine the things to go through your mind until it happens. Your past didn’t flash before your eyes. More thoughts of the future. How will people take your death? Maybe If this didn’t happen then how would you fit into there future. What if you had that drink with Daryl… That pushed you to now. Right now. You woke up. Groggy cold and numb. The smell of death strong. You weren’t sure if maybe you were a walker maybe it was all a dream.

The haze lifted with a spike of your adrenaline as your eyes focus. A walker close to your face with your knife jammed into its head. A gasp filled your lungs, you weren’t dead? You were lying on your stomach under the U haul nearly freezing. The body of walkers all around you seemed to be your insulation. You take in the scene around you, then you do the only logical thing, cry. A sob ripped from you, tears streaming down your now dirt covered face that was laying in the dirt. You were scared, in pain, and alone. It seemed like the only thing you could really do and have the mind to do. In the small gaps that walkers didn’t cover a slight glow came. You pushed through the body’s crawling between them until fresh air hit you. Dark gray clouds hung above you.

The night had passed while you were under the truck. You caught sight of the littered bodys around the area. It was quiet. Not a soul or other wise empty vessel around. You attempted to stand but fell when you became light headed and unbalanced. Another attempt had lead you slowly to your feet. You were covered in dirt. You could only think you were rolling around in it while keeping walkers away from you under the car. The longer you were awake the more you came back to yourself. A hand slowly moved to your forehead. You were cold but shouldn’t you have a fever by now? At the thought you moved some of the fabric from your bite only stopping when your cloths were singed to your body. Were the bite was now was left with a deep embedded scorch marks. Coals had seemed to burned you up to your shoulder and down to your hip on you left side.

The sight of it made you gag but you couldn’t feel a thing from it. The burns must have destroyed the nerves. If the infection of being bite wasn’t going to kill you the infection sure to come from this wound would. A flare of life filled you. A broken chuckle passed your lips filling the dead silence. You need Hershel badly and soon if you wanted a chance to live. A chance was better than what you had thought. You slowly turn around to the U hale in hopes you could drive it back but the tires were blown and a rainbow like liquid had formed a puddle. You probably shot at walkers while under there damaging the car. Like damaging the gas tank and somehow not exploding so you’ll take that win. No that meant you just had to walk several miles back to the prison. Suddenly you remembered you weren’t bond to the roads so maybe you were closer then you thought.

So you took off north into the woods, hopeful and better yet alive.

Daryl POV

Of course nothing ever goes smoothly and this damn run was no exception. It was so close, they were all packed and ready to go. A herd coming didn’t seem like a big deal just alerting them there was no time to dilly dally. So after killing a few and saving people who got surprised by it they stood behind a chain fences that wasn’t going to hold for long the more that pushed against it. Daryl’s eyes flickered to everyone behind the fence. Panic now felt when his eyes didn’t meet yours. He turned back around frantically until he say you standing facing what looked to be another herd. His eyes widened and your name was flying out of his mouth before he even knew he was doing it. You just stood there, not even in a defensive posture, just casually. Your head turned to meet his after hearing him.

Tears ran down your face but your face remained to looked shocked. Maybe you froze in panic so he gestured for you to come quickly but you didn’t move. Soon others joined in calling for you. But when you moved and lifted your shirt he felt like he was sinking. Blood dripped down your side and teeth were imprinted in your skin. His eyes flicked back up to yours to see you smiling at him. He was screaming and moving without a thought.

“NOOOOOOOO!”

A hand grabbed his shirt and then the fence in front of them fell. He still tried moving forward even then but other sets of hands now pulled him backwards. He grunted and gasped still looking at you as he was moved away. The smile on your face directed at him. The look in your eyes saying so many words that he didn’t have the time to decipher in the moment. He didn’t know the words coming from his mouth but he was yelling. For whoever holding him to let him help you in curses and cry’s. When he lost sight of you is when he faltered. More people seemed to be dragging him now. A gunshot went off making him jump in his skin along with the others around him. Sound now processing in his ears. Maggie sobbing along with muffled crying from others.

Everyone had assumed that gunshot was you giving yourself mercy. Then more came making him start dragging his heels again. You were fighting, you were bring some of the herd on them back to you. He was going to fight to get to you. But he froze along with the people clawing him backwards. You were screaming. No you were dying and they all were hearing it. It was guttural and sudden like you were surprised. He was yelling in tears now, “NOOO PLEASE-“ his words jumping starting people again to pull him away. Your pained cries fading when he was pulled into a car. Tyrese was the one locking him in place. Rick driving with Michonne in the passenger side leaning over like she was going to be sick.

Daryl was now desperate to grab air in his lungs as has he went limp in Tyrese grasp. His gasps filled with the now humming engine felt like he was spiraling. Sounds muffled and thoughts racing. ‘Just thought maybe it was about time we talked.’ The feeling from the words originally was like butterflies, now it was hornets. You always wiggled your away into his arms. Excuses of ‘it’s cold.’ or ‘But you’re always so warm.’ He knew for some reason you had taken interest in him. You had lit some dumb teenage feeling in him. Thoughts of you always crossing his mind throughout the day. Hopes of you trying to make your way into his space later in the day. The first time you fell asleep on him was when you crawled in his lap during watch and shivered endlessly while he held you. He continued to watch gaze flickering through trees while holding you and he knew deep down he was screwed.

The fear that kept him away and doubting had come true. He watched trees go by through the window in silence. Tyrese still holding him as he was lying across the seats. Like he would jump out the moving vehicle if given the chance. Even though he didn’t act on his feeling he had still loved you. He felt cold inside. The cold that would have drawn you to him. He will never hold you to him again. His hands trembled to his face and covered his eyes. Your screams echoing in his mind, your sad loving smile played into his mind. His palms dug into his eyes and he cried. His tears breaking seemed to trigger those around him. He heard Rick holding his breath as he sniffled. Michonne would occasionally suck in a gasp. Tyrese trembled with sighs and coughs trying to break the growing ball in his throat.

Eventually making it back to the prison Carl swung the gate open happily for two cars and Carol riding on Daryl’s bike. The unsuspecting grief hadn’t reached the prison but when they got out of the cars it was felt in waves. They were still seemed lost in thoughts, or lost in a moment. Carl looked on to his father who held is head down and hands on his hips. Maggie making her way to her father and cried silently when he hugged her with Glenn close by eyebrows furrowed in pain. When looking at Daryl it was clear to who they lost. He was stock still and pale, in shock. Hershel practically herded them into the cell block. Carol tried to come near him while walking there but he just shock his head and pushed past her.

They sat in silence sitting at the tables they had their breakfast just this morning. Daryl leaned on the wall keeping his distance. Rick was standing and looking on to everyone hunched in to themselves. Judith in his arms was probably the only reason Daryl didn’t go into a berserk rage. Though when Rick started retelling what had happened to the other that weren’t there he was gettin close to it. Nails digging into his palms and teeth clenched he still listened.

“Y/n’s gone… We were just about ready to go when a herd spooked us.” Rick sighed now looking to everyone’s face. “We had gotten behind a fence and Y/N was putting fires out…” Beth had clear tears now growing in her eyes as she listened. “We think a separate herd flanked us but we were so busy with the first to notice. She was across from us with a herd closing in from behind and in front of her. She could have possibly made it… if-“ he cleared is throat starting again. “If she didn’t lift her shirt showing us she was already doomed. I don’t know when or how, but she was bite.” Rick paused then chuckled wetly, “She had to go out being a badass, could hear it in my mind ‘Was it cool at least?’ Always theatrics with that one.” The thought bubbles in Daryl’s stomach, ‘she always said if she was ever going out it was in a blaze of glory, nothing “lame”.’ Daryl leaned forward off the wall moving to pass by everyone. Everyone had stilled at his movement but he just walked into the cell block.

He needed a minute, to cope, scream, cry, yell, he didn’t know but he felt like he was dying. He found his way up the stairs and pushing past the stupid Dino sheets you chose for your room. ‘They’re not ugly! We have a lot more in common with are extinct friends now. Though I would have preferred a meteor…’ He stared at everything that had been left where you had it. He stumbled to sit on the edge of your bed looking around. You had so many weird thing… you were so weird. A now deflated happy birthday ballon he remembered you yelling, ‘JACKPOT’ when you found it scavenging. Then his eyes locked onto a bottle of whiskey. It was not even half full but when he saw it tears started falling quietly. He picked it up and held it to his chest.

“Just thought maybe it was about time we talked.” That sentence would haunt him forever.

Your POV

You groaned like the dead as you made your way through the woods. Speaking of the dead they didn’t much notice you. That had made you spiral in the whole am I really a walker?! But then you remember you were covered in dirt and blood and walking like you had a few to many. You were starting to feel warm putting you into a cold sweat. It was hard to not think that maybe the bite was still going to kill you. You had burnt it with the rest of your back to hell. You probably look like you crawled out from hell. The thought made you dazily laugh out loud. Ok so maybe you were delirious. If that manic laugh that bubbled from you wasn’t any indication. You weren’t thinking straight. Only moving in the direction you think is to the prison? God you could go for some pasta right about now, Olive Garden salad and bread sticks… damn. Little mint at the end. You trip out of your thoughts slamming into the forest floor with a groan.

It had snapped you back into a clearer head space. Your vision swam a little but you started to push yourself back up. So turns out your near death thoughts weren’t as epic as you thought they were going to be, just bread sticks and mints. You sighed looking around trying to gain your bearings. You could hear some water to your right meaning you were indeed going the right way. Just 20 more minutes and you were back to the prison. You wonder if you could have had a dinner date with Daryl. I suppose you still could if you didn’t die. The poor man had tried running into a herd for you. You were getting more unbalanced as you walked leaning from tree to tree. Wood splitting and jamming into your hands, only adding to a list of injures. The worst part was you didn’t feel much of anything pain wise. The cold numbed you and your lack of cognitive ability was no better help.

The stream broke off flowing into the direction of the prison. You saw the bridge that held the water pump before the prison. You somehow managed to get back here. The prison was still quieter than normal. You could see closer to the gate a few people were clearing walkers, vision to bleary to know who. A thunk sounded coming into the middle of the inclosed clearing. Rick was cutting wood with Carl moving logs for him to cut. Slowly making your way to the fence you didn’t realize your throat was so scratchy, nothing but a huff of air coming out. That’s right, you had been screaming…. and crying. You lean into the fence hands intertwined with the cool dewy metal.

A walker was pushed against the fence to your right staring to Rick and Carl too. You slowly push down to the floor grabbing a stick. You pushed back up using the fence to walk closer to the walker. Taking a deep breath you kicked the back of the walkers legs making it fall to its knees. The walker grumbled in shock or protest but it was silence with the stick shoved in its eyes. The constant noise of the walker was acknowledged by the Grimes so when it abruptly stopped they looked over to where it was. You were leaning into the side of the fence as you heard feet approaching, “Who are- Holy shit!” You heard them running and the sound got farther from you. The heavy gate door grunted open and the running sound came back toward you. You tried moving along the fence, tripping yet again on the walker, this time only to your knees.

A shadow fell over you causing you to look up seeing Rick kneeling in front of you, hands moving to pull you up. Your adrenaline was dropping now that the task you set for yourself was complete. The fall made your head swim, voices now muffled as blood pulled into your head. You saw Rick talking but didn’t comprehend anything he said. He soon pointed at Carl and your eyes moved over to the boy. Walkers had made their way out of the woods at the commotion. You suddenly were being jostled now. Rick had put an arm to the back of your shoulders and his other arm to the back of your knees and lifted you into him. You were slightly over Rick’s shoulder as he quickly moved. Then you realized what Rick was yelling.

“HERSHEL! HERSHEL! HERSHEL!”

That was right, you wanted Hershel to help you… help you? What for again? Your mind clicked as you watched the door of the gate close behind you. Some faces now appeared as Rick continued to carry while trying not to dig his hands into your injury. You had been injured, right. Some looks you caught while over Rick shoulder was nothing you’ve seen direct at yourself. The group formed shuffling to the gate to get into the court yard. You recognized Maggie gasping and her saying, “Oh my god is she alive?! H-how?” You rumbled out a deep noise. “Cause I’m a badass.” You were becoming slack and your vision was blurring. You were trying to remain awake. Maybe for the face you so desperately wanted to see, and the other part of you was afraid you wouldn’t wake back up. But at last you involuntarily relaxed as you heard him, “Y/N!” His voice was pained and dry, but it sent a smile to your face before you went still as Rick continued moving you.

Daryl POV

He fell asleep in your bed. Selfishly taking in what little smell was left of your space. The whiskey bottle was held to his chest untouched. He kept waking up ever hour. He felt wrong like something was missing. His body knew that you weren’t with him and it made him restless. He would think about your screams feeling like he still heard them. He would play back random moments with you. He just couldn’t seem to move. Stuck laying down holding the bottle you both were going to share, stuck going in and out of consciousness. He was depressed he realized. It was the norm for his sadness to spark rage but he just felt defeated. With Merle he got angry, upset even. But he could still move. His world was still moving then but now he wasn’t sure how it kept spinning with you gone.

Everyone was already moving through the day doing tasks that needed to be completed. He heard the shuffles and whispers of his friends- his family. He would hear someone’s breath hitch while talking about you. He was left alone with Glenn being the one saying, “Leave the man alone.” With other things like, ‘when Lori died-‘ or, ‘if it had been Maggie I’d be the same.’ He would thank the man on another day. So here he is still, morning coming to pass, in your bed staring at the ceiling. He tried to not think about how you might be a walker wondering or even worse your body was still there. He would have to push himself up to that. But the silence around the prison seemed to have broke.

The heavy door that lead in from out doors slammed opened and a panicked Maggie nervously yelled for her father. “D-Daddy somethings wrong Rick’s yelling for you!” Daryl’s hearing perked up feeling the pit in his stomach drop further. Dread seeping into him, ‘Another bad thing was happening.’ He heard the clicking of Hershel’s crutch’s as he moved through the door that Maggie’s had burst through. Daryl squeezed his eyes shut before sucking in a breath in and huffing it out. He got up.

He got to his feet moving down the stairs buzzing with adrenaline. Not sure if he was going to have to protect people or kill someone. As Daryl pushed through the metal door to the court yard an icy wind blew through him. The hair on the back of his neck stood. He turned over to the commotion gathering by the gate to the yard. Scanning the area he didn’t see danger so he made his way over to the group. “Oh my god is she alive?! H-how?” Daryl’s eyebrows furrowed as he got closer over hearing people now.

“Cause I’m a badass.”

Although the voice was deep and scratchy he froze at the familiar voice. He only paused for a moment before he started running the rest of the way there, “Y/N!” His voice was slightly harsh with dis use and the ball of tension in his throat didn’t help much either. You were being held up in a weird way by Rick but you sluggish turned drooping slightly as you did. When your eyes met you smiled but it slowly fell as you went slack. Rick was moving again with the demands of Hershel yelling orders to Carol and Maggie to gather things. Daryl saw your cloths, burnt holes and black and red covered you. Your skin stuck sticking to fabric as deep char marks riddled your back and side. He was speechless as the group passed him but he still followed. Maybe he fell asleep again and was dreaming all this.

“I need disinfectant and a bucket of clean water!”

Rick had set you down on your stomach in an unused cell. Your arm dangled over edge swaying. He stood the watching in shock. People were scrambling around him. He didn’t realize he had gotten the bottle still in his hands before he looked down and walked over practically shoving it into the man’s arms. Daryl was wide eyed as he watched your still form, “Daryl I need you to cut off her clothes. Be careful of her shirt.” A hand clasped to his shoulder finally clicking everything into place. His hand had moved for his knife and he slowly cut down right side on a seam. He slowly plead the shirt from you. It would stick then tug and pull off of you making him cringe. Hershel started talking again as Daryl moved to pull down your jeans.

“You said she was bite?” Daryl let your pants fall to the floor as he looked back up to the side he had seen it. Your entire side was indented and black. Some black circles were higher up to your shoulders as your enter left side seemed to have taken most of the burns. He pointed to were he had last saw the bite. “It was here- shit she fell into the fire pit.” The screams he heard played back into his mind. The pain and surprise that had ripped from you. Hershel now with a cloth and water started cleaning the area removing the grim, “That means she might have stopped the spread of the infection with how deep these burns are.” Hershel paused looking over her body. He then put a hand to your forehead, “She’s warm but not feverish…” Hershel grabbed the bottle of whiskey again turning to Daryl and popping the lid of,

“Get out of here Daryl. Maggie! Carol! I need hands!”

He watched as the two girls push past him and before he was out of sight from you saw Hershel dump some of the alcohol onto the area. He stepped out turning to see worried and confused faces. They stared at him silently with the background noise of Hershel making demands of his helpers. Sasha almost whispered her question to him, "How is she still alive?" Everyone turned to her before looking at him expectantly as the wondered the same. Daryl looked like he was visibly thinking before he sighed, "I don't know. She fell in the fireplace is all I know." Rick looked to the floor nodding thinking back to when he first saw you and struggled to pick you up around what looked to be burns. Daryl spoke again almost hopefully, "Hershel thinks there's a chance she stop the infection from spreading with how deep the burns are."

Hopeful gasps filled the air. Carl was the next to speak almost as a demand, "Then we going to use all are medical supplies we've got if there is a chance." Rick whispered, "Carl..." but Beth jumped in. "W-we have it for reasons like these! I know she is technically bite but we have no clue if she stopped it, its worth splurging to see if this could save others!" Rick looked surprised at the outburst mouth opening about to speak before Glenn jumped in also pleading to him, "Well find more!" Other silently agreeing and nodding. Daryl looked between the group so determined about your life smirking at it even but, he knew what Rick was trying to say. Sure enough the man had chuckled shacking his head, "Why are you all looking at me for, I'm not the leader anymore. This is a matter for the council. But I think that decision has already been made." It had only started not to long ago with Rick being the stand in while everyone settled on who the council consisted of. Michonne clapped her hands together, "Right is has been settled then, what ever cost to keep her alive." It was a waiting game now.

Days pass with the prison fueled with a hope. The once depressive air had lifted once Hershel declared you stable and with no fever. It was determined until a day later with still no fever you were not infected. The only problem now way you had yet to wake up. The girls had cleaned you of all the caked on dirt from your skin and hair they best they could with you unconscious and your injury. Daryl with any of his free time was by your side. He even took to sleeping in the bunk above you. He changed your bandage most of the time. You were on the your third IV by the 5th day. Daryl had a chair pulled by your side as he fiddled with his crossbow and bolts, your steady breathing having a calming effect on him. The breathing pattern faltered for a second making him look up to you. He stared for a moment before you seemed to grunt in pain. The hair was rising on the back of his neck. Hazy eyes open and your cuffed hand attempted to move but was halted by it be attached to the metal bed frame in the wall.

Daryl felt his heart race as he watched you slowly and groggily start moving. He reached to stopping your hand from moving with his own. "Hey, stay down." You groaned pain probably hitting you finally making Daryl call for Hershal. The clicking of crutch’s came closer but he looked back down to you at your sudden silence. Your eyes met with his and in that moment you saw straight into his soul making him feel exposed. All his nerves seemed to stand on end with your quiet gaze. A small smile creeping it way on your face. Daryl leaned down moving some hair from your face as you remained on your stomach. When he was crouched closer to you he whispered, “Hey darlin’…” You huffed out air and a tear ran down your cheek. He was smiling down at you feeling the weight of deaths grip finally releasing you back to him.

Hershel broke the moment but he never stopped holding your hand as the older man fussed over you. Your voice was rough to say the least. He winched at your first attempt at using it. “iM aLivE…?” Daryl squeezed your hand and the ball in his throat suck to his chest as he let out a chuckle. You seemed just as surprised of the fact just like them. You hissed before flinching forcibly relaxing your muscles but you still spoke again, “tHe BiTe?” Hershel had moved injecting something in your IV bag, pain killers hopefully. Your eyes barely following the movement as Hershel spoke calmly with a smile, “You’ve been out for a few days. No fever. We are working on the burns because they are festering but blistering. You killed the infection.” Your eyes squeezed shut and you sniffled a little tears poured from your eyes in relief. Daryl couldn’t help for his eyes to blur a little to. A hand fell to his shoulder, Hershel. “Her blood pressure is still low so keep her lying down. Try and fed her something small for now until she is up right.”

With that he hobbled away probably going to spread the good news that you are up. His attention snapped back to you when he heard a faint whisper of his name, “daryl.” You had a dopey grin as you stare up at him making the knotted ball in his stomach loosen. You smile falter and a harsh sounding, “woOaH-“ your eyes blinking like your vision got blurry. He intertwined his fingers behind yours as he keyed open the cuffs. “goDdaMn…. HaRdcorE dRugS hEllo~” Daryl chuckled seeing you sag in relief. Your eyes moved to something behind him a long, “hEeeY…” your lips pouting. He turned around questioningly at what you were staring at. The bottle of now empty whiskey, aah. He turned back to you running his free hand into your hair, “Don’t look at me I didn’t drink it.” You stare at the bottle softly saying, “How wiLl I woe a DiXon nOw?”

Daryl sighs feeling that ever burning in his chest when it comes to you. “Don’t think you need to worry to much about that, think he is beyond woed.” You dawn a familiar smirk he knows means trouble. ‘Mmm’ vibrates from your chest, “Good… been really laying it on thick as of late. Hell crawled back from death for the guy.” Your voice seemed to not rattle in your hushed tone. You seemed to struggle to keep your eyes open and focus you spoke once more before closing your eyes and falling to drugs and exhaustion, “So much for not using the med supply like Hershel said…”

Love burns with either the loss of them or the fact they exist in the first place, but you would say the fireplace hurt a tad bit more than loving your gruff hunter.

Feedback welcome and requests open!

[ponderingmoonlight]

Reader who has never gotten drunk and doesn't want to touch alcohol due to personal issues x Nanami who drinks her shot for her to avoid awkward situations

Honestly this hits 100% home. I don't drink alcohol at all and always get insulted by some dumb people I don't even know that well when I'm out here in my hometown. I'd love to have a supportive Nanami by my side :(

In Quiet Understanding

Pairing: Nanami x fem!reader

Word Count: 1,8k

Synopsis: At a lively work party, you're cornered by the pressure to drink - a personal boundary you’re not ready to cross. Just as the moment becomes unbearable, Nanami steps in, quietly taking the shot for you. In his calm, understated way, he shows that sometimes the loudest support is silent.

Warnings: Fluff fluff fluff, my man is the greenest flag on earth, you just gotta love him

The bar buzzes around you, a steady hum of conversation blending with the clink of glasses and the occasional burst of laughter. Warm lights cast a dim glow over the crowd around, softening the edges of faces that surround you. It’s supposed to be a casual night out, just a few jujutsu sorcerers celebrating the end of a particularly long week, but the drink sitting in front of you feels like a barrier more than anything else.

A shot glass, small but potent, sits in front of you. The liquid inside glistens, clear and harmless to anyone else.

But to you, it feels like something heavier. You’ve never been one to drink, and not because you’ve never had the opportunity. It’s more complicated than that. There are reasons, personal ones that don’t make for easy explanations in a casual setting like this. But now, with everyone gathered around, laughing and sipping their drinks, it’s hard not to feel the unspoken pressure to participate.

You glance down at the shot again, the tension in your chest tightening. You’ve managed to avoid alcohol for this long, always coming up with an excuse or dodging the question when it came up. But tonight feels different. The way people keep sliding glances at your untouched glass makes you think someone will say something if you don’t take it soon. It’s just a matter of time before someone asks.

The last thing you want is to be the center of attention for that.

You steal a glimpse at the others sitting around the table, hoping to avoid any prying eyes. Most of them are too wrapped up in their own conversations to notice your discomfort, their attention focused on the drinks in their hands and the jokes being thrown around. A few have already gone through two or three rounds, faces flushed from the alcohol and laughter. Especially Gojo, who you thought isn’t even able to get drunk, starts to talk with a numb tongue. You shift in your seat, trying to blend into the background, your fingers fidgeting with the edge of the glass but not lifting it.

That’s when you feel it: the presence beside you.

Nanami Kento sits quietly, just as he always does in these types of settings. He doesn’t participate in the loud chatter or the easy-going atmosphere as much as the others. His energy is different - steadier, more reserved. You’ve always appreciated that about him, the way he manages to be a grounding presence without saying much. It’s comforting, even if you’ve never told him so.

Nanami is not the type to drink heavily, either. He has a glass of whiskey in front of him, sipped slowly over the course of the evening. It’s as if he’s participating just enough to be polite, but not so much that he’s truly in the middle of the scene. You imagine that he already noticed your untouched shot glass, though he hasn’t said anything. He’s too observant not to notice details like that, right?

You’re trying to work up the courage to find a way out of this situation when, without warning, Nanami moves.

His hand reaches across the small table, fingers curling around the shot glass in front of you. You blink, taken off guard by the sudden action. He lifts the glass effortlessly, not making a show of it. But before you can say anything, he downs the shot in one smooth motion, setting the empty glass back on the table with a quiet clink.

You stare at him bamboozled, a mix of surprise and confusion flashing across your face.

“Nanami-san…”, you start when he cuts you off with a calm, measured response.

“You didn’t seem like you wanted it. I thought I’d save you the trouble” he explains briefly.

His words hang in the air between you, simple and humble. There’s something about the way he says it, so quiet, without judgment, that catches you off guard. He doesn’t ask why you weren’t drinking, doesn’t press for an explanation or make a joke out of it like others might have.

He just… helps. Without making it a big deal.

You feel the tension in your chest ease, the knot of anxiety loosening as you process what just happened. The relief is almost overwhelming, the weight of the situation lifting in a way you hadn’t expected. You didn’t even realize how badly you needed someone to step in, to save you from the awkwardness of having to explain yourself, until Nanami did exactly that.

“Thank you,” you murmur, your voice quieter than you intended.

Nanami simply nods, his expression unchanged.

“It’s nothing.”

But it isn’t nothing to you.

For a few moments, the noise of the bar fades into the background, the laughter and voices becoming a distant hum as you focus on the man beside you. Nanami returns to his usual posture, resting back in his seat with his glass of whiskey, his eyes drifting over the crowd. He doesn’t expect anything from you, doesn’t expect a conversation or even a thank you beyond what you’ve already offered. He’s just… there, in the quiet way he always is.

“And it’s Kento for you”, he adds after a long pause.

The group around you starts to settle down a bit as the night wears on. The initial excitement has given way to a more comfortable rhythm, the laughter still present but less harsh. People are leaning back in their chairs, enjoying their drinks at a slower pace now. The pressure to keep up, to drink shot after shot like the others has lessened, and you’re grateful for that.

Nanami saved you from having to participate in that part of the night, and now, with the glass out of your hands, you feel more at ease. You glance at him again, catching the way his expression remains calm, unreadable to most.

But you know better. You’ve worked with him long enough to notice the subtle shifts in his behaviour, the tiny flickers of thought behind his eyes that most people miss.

He’s always been like that: quiet, composed, but aware. Aware of the little things, the unspoken discomforts that others might ignore. It’s something you’ve come to respect deeply about him, even if you’ve never found the right moment to say it aloud.

As the night progresses, more rounds are ordered, but no one pressures you anymore. The group is too absorbed in their own drinks and stories, too comfortable in the haze of alcohol to notice that you haven’t touched another shot. You blend in easily now, sipping on a glass of water you quietly asked for earlier, content to just be part of the atmosphere without feeling the need to explain yourself.

“Are you feeling better now?”

The raising of his voice catches you off guard and leads to you almost choking on a sip of water. To be honest, you always admired that man from afar. So far away that you always made sure he doesn’t catch the way your eyes follow each and every move of his well-toned body. So far away that you never dare to say a single word to him, not even when he’s sitting right next to you. So far away that he isn’t able to tell that you have a huge crush on him.

“I do…Thanks to you.”

Instead of answering, he simply nods while taking another sip of his whiskey.

“You’re welcome.”

Eventually, the group begins to wind down. A few people are noticeably tipsy, their voices louder, their movements less coordinated. Others have begun to check their phones, signaling that the night is nearing its end. You find yourself feeling a sense of relief, knowing that you’ve made it through without any awkward confrontations or unwanted attention.

As the table starts to clear out, Nanami stands up, finishing the last sip of his whiskey before setting the glass down. He glances at you briefly, catching your eye.

“Ready to go?”

With him? Your heart almost beats out of your chest, palms already starting to get sweaty. Does he…really want to take you home?

When he gives you another look you finally nod, grateful for the out. The two of you say your goodbyes to the group, exchanging a little chit-chats as you leave the bar. The cool night air hits you as soon as you step outside, a welcome contrast to the stuffy warmth inside and your burning-hot cheeks. You take a deep breath, feeling a weight lift from your shoulders now that the evening is over even with your long-time crush by your side.

Nanami walks beside you in silence for a few moments, his hands tucked into the pockets of his coat. He’s not the type to fill the air with unnecessary conversation, and you appreciate that. The quiet between you is comfortable, familiar.

“About earlier…” you begin, breaking the silence.

“I just wanted to say thank you again. I didn’t-”

“You don’t need to explain,” Nanami interrupts, his voice gentle but firm.

“I didn’t do it expecting anything in return.”

You stop walking for a moment, turning to face him fully. There’s something in his expression, something softer than usual.

“I know. But it means a lot. I just… I don’t really drink. And I didn’t want to make a big deal out of it.”

Nanami meets your gaze, his eyes steady and understanding.

“You don’t have to explain yourself to anyone. Not about that, or anything else.”

The weight of his words sinks in, and you feel a warmth spread through your chest. He’s not just talking about the shot glass anymore, and you know it. There’s a depth to his understanding that goes beyond the surface, beyond the simple act of taking a drink for you. It’s the kind of quiet, unspoken support that feels rare.

You offer him a small, genuine smile.

“Thank you, Nanami. Really.”

“It’s Kento, (y/n).”

The second his tongue pronounces your name so delicately, you can feel your heart almost burst in sheer excitement.

“Right…Kento.”

He nods once, and without another word, the two of you continue walking, the city lights casting long shadows as you move forward together.

In the end, it wasn’t about the drink. It was about the quiet understanding between the two of you, the kind of connection that doesn’t need words to be felt.

And as the night fades into memory, you can’t help but feel a sense of gratitude for the person beside you - steady, reliable Nanami, who always seems to know exactly what you need, even without asking.

Tags:

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@okay-it-is-ivy @paridoliaaa @cupcaketeddybehr

[joelslegalwhre]

drunk confessions

word count // 2.056k

pairing // jake “hangman” seresin x f!bradshaw!reader

summary // You’ve had enough of hiding your relationship with Jake, so you drink yourself a little courage and just screw it

warnings // established relationship. (slightly)drunk!reader, mentions of alcohol, lightweight reader, nicknames for reader (bubbles, sweetheart, etc.), Bradley is in big brother mode, the mission I mentioned isn’t from the film, the pilots still live in their own apartments (all near the base) for this fic, soft!hangman (that man alone is a warning but him being soft???), affectionate Jake and a ton of fluff

a/n // This is the new version of "drunk confessions" from '22! I just changed the wording a little, but nothing of the plot has changed. I loved writing this two years ago and if anyone wants more Hangman, don't worry I have more to come because same haha Thanks to @saradika-graphics for the beautiful dividers ❀

(as always, please tell me if I missed a warning)

Masterlist

You and Jake started dating almost a year ago when Bradley and him were together at Top Gun. 

Rooster and Hangman had never been the best of friends, everyone knew that, so it was never the right moment to tell him about the two of you. The risk of Bradley being angry or perhaps even disappointed was too big. At least that’s what you thought. 

Jake understood why you didn’t want anyone to know. And although he’d love to just scream it out into the world, that he was dating the younger Bradshaw, that he was without a doubt the luckiest man on fucking earth, he respected your decision. 

Jake knew that you’d do the same for him without a question.

You wanted to tell Bradley eventually, just right now wasn’t the right time. But the real question is, when was it really? 

Jake had a hard time keeping away from you whenever you were at the Hard Deck with the team. You mostly spent your time at the bar with Penny, to keep her company and to catch up with the latest news - often involving your godfather. 

She and Maverick were so obvious sometimes it made you chuckle, but you really hoped he wouldn’t let her down this time. But Amelia and you would ensure that. 

From your seat at the bar, you also had a perfect sight at the pool table. A lame excuse to stare at a certain blonde pilot all night. 

Jake would always be the first to voluntarily get a new round of beers for the group, and no one complained about it. They were all so caught up in what they were doing, that no one noticed how he eyed you all night, ready to be by your side in seconds if anyone were to bother you. 

-

“Hey Penny, sweetheart. Another round please!” he gave her a wink and shot her one of his handsome grins. Penny nodded with a smile in return and turned around to get seven cold beers for the young pilots. 

“You look smokin’ hot, baby.” he whispered to you as his bright eyes met yours. They had this glow in them every time he looked at you. 

“You don’t look too bad yourself, Seresin.” you teased him with a wink. 

“I can do way more than look good. Whatever you want, Bradshaw.” he grinned while his hand secretly found yours on the bartop, his broad frame shielding it from preying eyes. 

You chuckled lightly, “Oh really?”

“Oh yeah, babe. You better wait for me when everyone’s gone. I need to take ya home with me.” he flirted shamelessly in his southern accent you loved so much. Jake knew you’d do exactly that anyway, since you basically lived at his apartment at this point, but where would be the fun?

-

Not even Phoenix knew about the two of you, so you could say both Hangman and yourself did a rather good job. 

This time was different though. 

They were all going to meet up at the Hard Deck tonight, for another night of pool, darts and what not. The next mission was in less than a week, and you just wanted to spend as much time with Jake as possible. Just like he wanted to with you. 

Jake hated to keep his hands by himself when you were just a few feet away, playing darts with Fanboy or Bob. You never hid from them, after all, Rooster was your older brother. If you weren’t talking to Penny, you spent your nights with them, laughing, drinking and chatting. 

Not tonight… tonight would be different.

You met Penny at the bar in the late afternoon, to help her get everything ready before the first guests would come in. Amelia was staying at a friend’s house, so you gladly took over her part. 

When everything was ready for the Hard Deck to open, you sat down at your regula seat at the bar. 

Penny looked at you from the side while she turned on the lights underneath the bar. “Can I get you anything?” She asked, a hint of worry in her voice. 

“Can I get a beer?”

“Sure, sweetie.” Penny smiled gently. She put the bottle down in front of you, and you took a large sip. 

“So,“ Penny started, putting her hands on the bar, arms on each side of your beer. “What’s on your mind, sweetheart? You’ve been out of it today.“ You looked up at her, and she had this look on her face that gave you so much comfort. You knew you could tell her everything and she’d keep it safe. 

„I… I’ve been thinking about…„ Yeah, what exactly was it that you thought about ever since opening your eyes today? 

You didn’t even know. Not really. 

You thought about telling Bradley about your relationship with his rival, screwing everything. But you’ve also thought about keeping it to yourself just a little longer. The upcoming mission was creeping into your mind at every thought; What if they didn’t make it? You didn’t want to think about that more than just a second. Not about your brother nor Jake. 

He would come back, and he’ll be fine. This wasn’t his first mission.

“I don’t even know Penny, I’m so confused.” you sighed and let your head fall into your crossed arms. 

“You’ll figure it out, sweetheart. I know you will.” she said, caressing your hair. You lifted your head to look into her eyes, her kind smile calming your racing thoughts a little. 

Not enough, though. 

That night, you kind of ignored your limits of how much alcohol you could handle in one night. You got pretty much drunk. Not to a point where you could throw up or blackout, Penny was in charge of the bar after all, but the kind you’d be rewarded with a nice headache the next day and your mind to be pretty foggy. 

Drinking wasn’t one of your strengths. That’s why Jake liked to jokingly call you a lightweight, and he couldn’t be more accurate with it. 

You’ve been sitting at the bar for a good part of the night now. The team had already greeted you when they came in, asking you to come with them, but you declined, telling them you’d maybe join them later.

“Penny.” you tried to get her attention, a sudden certainty in your voice, “Please excuse me. I have to go and get some kisses now.“ 

“That’s his boyfriend duty,” you said with a confident nod. “You know, happy wife, happy life.” 

Penny had no idea how no one of the team could see the glances Hangman gave you. How he couldn’t tear his gaze away from you even if he tried. If anything happened, he’d be there in a heartbeat. And those poor guys who tried to flirt with you were quickly intimidated by his death stare. 

Penny just laughed. She had kept a close eye on you since your third drink of the night, the last two she gave you were non-alcoholic, but you didn’t have to know that. 

She ignored your choice of words at the saying, not changing ‚wife‘ to ‚girlfriend‘ with a chuckle and motioned you to go. “Go and tell Jake then.” You looked at her with wide eyes, “How did y‘know I’m talking about Jake?” 

Penny tilted her head with a smile, “Sweetheart, I notice things.” she winked, “Now go and get your man.” 

The next thing you knew, you were trying to your boyfriend at the pool table. 

“Hey, Jake!” 

His head snapped in your direction at the use of his first name. You were the only one calling him that. And the first name basis got everyone else’s attention as well. 

“Yeah?” he tried to not be too obvious. But his concern about how you were feeling was rising with every second. 

You didn‘t stop at the pool table, but walked up to him. Until you stood right in front of him. You looked up into his bright eyes, filled with curiosity.

“I need kisses.” you told him with a pout, wrapping your arms around his neck. He was so thrown off by what you were saying, that he almost forgot the others around him.

Jake unwrapped your arms from his neck and placed his hand on your lower back. “I think you need some water and sleep, bubbles.” he couldn‘t suppress the small grin that grew on his lips.

„Kisses?! What the fuck is-„ Rooster started but was quickly interrupted by you, “Oh for god’s sake shut up Bradley.” you hushed your brother in honest annoyance, turning to him. 

“I love you, but I’m sick and tired of hiding something from you that’s important to me, just because I’m scared of what you’ll think or do.”

Hangman’s gaze was a mix between shock and pride. That you just straight out told your brother and all of your friends standing around you, about the two of you. Not keeping it a secret anymore. He knew it took a toll on you, and he’d told you multiple times to just tell Bradley for your own sake.

“Oh my god” you heard Phoenix breath out a laugh, while the others couldn‘t find words, still shocked, while some of them were exchanging amused looks.

Bradley didn’t. He looked back and forth between you and Jake, not able to process it all quite yet.

„Sorry man, listen I-„ 

“Just give me a second, okay?” Rooster cut Hangman off, stomping to the bar. 

“Let him be,“ you said while curling yourself into his side, hugging his arm close to your body, “He’ll be fine by tomorrow, the old drama queen.” Sober-you would probably be scared Bradley would be angry or disappointed. 

Good thing you weren‘t sober right now. 

“Babe, how much did you have to drink?” Jake whispered, as he bent down a little until his lips reached your ear.

“Ohh, not that much.” you assured him as you tried to sound sober, looking up at his face, only inches away from yours.

He looked back to the bar, finding Penny’s gaze. She mouthed something like “water” easing Hangman’s concern about your drunken state.

“Let’s get you to bed, huh, sugar?” he softly smiled at you. A real smile, one he had reserved for only you. 

You instantly shook your head in disagreement, “I swear, I’m not-„ you yawned, “that tired.” 

“‘Course you aren't” he mockingly smiled down at you.

“C‘mon, on my back.” he ordered, putting his hands behind his back, ready to hold your legs for support. He bent down, and you tried your best to hop on his back. You wouldn’t win anyway, and sooner or later - you preferred later - he’d carry you out the bar. 

You rested your head on Jake’s shoulder and wrapped your hands around his body. Your eyes already closing as the exhaustion betrayed you.

“Wow, Hangman, nice one.” Coyote teased him, the others joining in with laughter. Who would’ve thought Hangman had a soft spot.

“Shut it, Coyote.” Jake said with a look that would make anyone run for the hills.

“See you tomorrow, lover boy!” Phoenix joked. 

You giggled on Jake’s shoulder, “That’s a good one!” you lazily turned your head in her direction and smirked, Phoenix and the others laughing back at you.

“You’re supposed to be on my side.” Jake complained, giving your ass a little smack.

“Hey.” you giggled, but did nothing in response. Your head ached a little, and you hadn‘t had the strength nor willpower to do so. Just relived to be carried, you let your head sink back on Jake’s shoulder. 

“I love you.” you whispered to Jake as he carefully sat you down on the passenger seat of his car. He stopped in his tracks, his eyes finding yours. Jake bent down to place a soft kiss on your lips and he smiled. 

The slight smell of alcohol was surrounding you, but Jake couldn’t care less. „I love you, and I’ll never let you go, that’s for sure. You’re all mine, baby.“ he whispered back between small kisses, giving you goosebumps. His scent surrounded you as you wrapped your hands around his neck to bring him even closer. “Good.” you grinned and pulled him into another, longer kiss.

Masterlist

[runa-falls]

cocktails

gif from @pirateherokillian

pairing: jake lockley x shy!reader

summary: you finally gain enough courage to make a move on your best friend

cw: explicit (18+), dub-con (reader is tipsy), afab!reader, dry humping to piv pipeline, fingering, multiple orgasms, longing/pining losers, love (?), push-over!jake, needy!reader, 'just the tip' is never just the tip, alcohol consumption, pet names, daddy kink, creampie, fluff :3 -- not beta-read

wc: 5.1k

a/n: pls, it was never supposed to be this long. i'm sorry for taking FOREVER to write this. anyways, this is based off my blabbering in discord -- i dedicate this to my whores (affectionate) <3

mk masterlist | main masterlist

----

You don’t drink. 

At least not in front of Jake. 

Alcohol makes you…indulgent, to say the least, and that’s a side you’ve been holding back from your best friend. 

Yes, you’ve had a drink or two at some group hangouts in the past, but this, you, Jake, and a few bottles of gifted wine, surprisingly has never happened in the past. You’ve made sure of it.

What almost makes it worse is that Jake’s always been a sweetheart about your choices to avoid drinking around him. After your first few bouts of excuses and timid declines, he doesn’t pressure you to keep up with him when he’s knocking back shots or drinking pitchers of beer. 

Whenever your other friends press another drink into your hand, he subtly takes it for you, drinking it in large gulps before returning the glass from your hand. And when he pulls away, his fingers always find a way to graze against yours. Thankfully the bars are usually dimly lit so he can’t see the blush heating at your cheeks. 

He doesn’t realize it’s because of him. He’s the reason bartenders give you weird looks when you ask for watered-down vodka cranberries or why you’re always the last one standing in your friend group whenever you go out. This restraint around alcohol has gone on for years all because you harbor an intense attraction for your best friend. 

It didn’t start that way. He crashed into your quiet life and obliterated the dynamics of your friend group. When you first met him, you thought his cocky and blasé attitude was overcompensating for something.

He’s always been a natural sweet talker, not afraid to approach people and get what he wants, but it seemed too good to be true. He’s too charismatic, too interested in the dull life you live, how did he dig out a hole and place himself so easily in your life?

Easily, too easily, you fell for his sweet words, words that would inevitably draw you into his orbit and leave you hanging off of every syllable. 

You learned that no matter what he says, or does, he’s just being friendly. He’s just like that with everyone. It means nothing when he gives you a cheeky grin from across the bar or when he consistently insists on walking you home at night. Sure, he might stick closer to your side than anyone else's, but it’s just because you’re best friends. Right?

Of course, girls have tried and failed to lock down your best friend, misinterpreting his outgoing personality as him propositioning them. And they always come to you – whining over his lack of interest, the sudden and unexpected rejection of their advances, and grappling for any advice from his girl best friend. 

“He’s single, isn’t he?” The words are said over the thin rim of a martini glass. She glances over at you with hopeful eyes framed by beautifully dark lashes. 

You barely knew the girl’s name, but she offered to buy you a drink (a shirley temple) so you stayed for the conversation, however, you weren’t expecting the topic to circle back to Jake. But after watching her down a couple of martinis, gushing more and more about the man you’ve been pining after for an eon, you felt too bad to leave her. 

“Um…as far as I know.” It’s a little uncomfortable, talking about Jake like you’re his keeper.

“Then – then why won’t he go out – or even hook up with me?” Her voice has gotten louder with the exasperation of her inquiries. You look around at the bar, hoping she can keep it together before you’re kicked out for causing a ruckus. 

“Look, I don’t know if I’m the best –”

“But you’re his best friend, right?”

“Yes, but –”

“What’s his type?”

His type?

God, you wish you knew. It would make things a lot easier for yourself (and the world). But you genuinely don’t know. You’ve never seen him with a girl. Sure, he could be hooking up on the side, but why would he tell you?

You look down at your glass. All that’s left is ice, melting into an amalgam of pink-tinted liquid around the one maraschino cherry you refuse to eat. 

“I don’t know.” You mumble.

—

You’re already through a bottle and a half, lounging comfortably on the overstuffed couch in your living room. Something is playing on the TV but it’s all a blur behind the feeling of his thigh pressing against yours. 

Jake has never been afraid of showing his affection through physical means, whether it’s greeting ladies with a friendly peck on the cheek or ruffling one of the guy’s hair when he goes by. It’s natural to him. Casual.

But with you, he’s mostly hands-off. 

It’s not that you deign to feel his touch, to feel the scratchiness of his whiskers rub against the edge of your hairline, or lower against the sensitive skin of your throat, you just can’t control your reactions when he does it. Even the light touch of his hand against your lower back when he guides you has you standing straighter. 

He noticed your strong reactions to him and backed off, assuming you were uncomfortable or unused to friendly touches. And it was fine until you would do anything to feel him against you again, just one more time. It’s desperate, really, but you don’t really care when he looks at you with those cocoa-butter eyes. 

And now, he’s closer than ever but still hands-off. He politely sits next to you, one arm slung over the back of the couch and the other in his lap. But not touching you. 

He’s been making commentary about the dumb hallmark movie you impulsively rented, pointing out all the unrealistic plot conveniences and bright red flags that the main character blatantly ignores. He seems relaxed. 

You aren’t.

Two stained wine glasses sit on the coffee table, dangerously close to the edge, still holding a sip of liquid. You can barely make out the intricate print of his lips on the edge of the cup, highlighted by the brightness of the hallmark snow scene. 

You want so badly to steal the glass away and lick up the residual bitter-sweetness of the wine that’s touched his lips. To taste him, even indirectly. Or directly. Lick the sweetness straight from the source, tongue intermingling with him as he takes just as much from you. You feel yourself pulse from that image alone.

“Bunny?” Heat prickles against the back of your neck as you realize how far away your brain is, thinking such filthy and depraved thoughts of the man who is sitting right next to you. 

He dotes on you like a person would their favorite pet cat. He calls you pet names, ones that make you bite your tongue and hide your face in your hands. Bunny was the first one and the one he uses the most. 

It came out of nowhere, really. You were both at a small house party and Jake convinced you to join his team in a game of beer pong. You were still a bit nervous around him, still surprised when he’d seek you out for a conversation or to get your opinion on something entirely irrelevant. 

You told him upfront that your hand-eye coordination leaves much to be desired, but he was determined to teach you. The first few throws were pitiful, so pitiful, in fact, that the other team gave you a freebie to make up for it. 

“Here, lemme give you a hand.” You couldn’t even react before he was sidled behind you, his chest nearly flush against your shoulder as his hand wrapped around your wrist. Your body is frozen, soaking in the overwhelming closeness.

You can barely decipher the individual cups of beer with his voice low behind your ear as he directs you, “Keep it right….there” He lets go of your arm and you already miss his touch, “and put a little more power into your throw.” 

He steps back, giving you space to take a breath and refocus. 

You throw it, more mechanical than you would’ve liked, but it – miraculously – goes in. 

Immediately you turn around to get his reaction, the praise that you secretly crave from a man you barely know. 

He grins down at you, “You’re a natural, bunny.” 

And the nickname stuck.

You look over at him, lazily blinking up to meet his fond gaze, “Hm?” You feel all fuzzy inside, overexcited yet pinned down by the unexplainable need to stay close to him. 

He smirks down at you, arm subtly lowering to barely touch the back of your head, “What’cha thinkin’ about, sweetheart?” You try to lean into the feeling of his arm, hoping that if you ease into it, he won’t notice. “You had this… faraway look in your eyes for a moment.”

Oh, he noticed. But there’s no way he knows what you were thinking, right? A flash of embarrassment stings hot in your cheeks. You don’t think when you shyly nuzzle your face into his bicep to avoid his curious eyes, “I think I just zoned out or something.”

He hums, “You tired?” You turn your face to look at him, cheek resting against him. God, he smells so good. You never want to move from this spot. “Want me to tuck you in?” His voice coos teasingly, but you soak in the sweetness of it. He can be so soft sometimes.

Scrambled words echo in your mind: But if you go to bed, you’ll leave. You’ll take your arm out from under me and leave me here to think about you, all alone. Why can’t you just – Your thoughts quickly dissipate when he pulls you closer to him, hand at your waist to press your body against his.

Your hand presses delicately against his chest in surprise and you can barely feel the soft thrum of his heartbeat underneath the firmness of his muscles.

You softly shake your head, “Not tired.”

“Sure, baby.” 

Baby. 

That’s new. 

Your thighs involuntarily press together with how good it sounds coming from his lips. Directed at you. Somehow, even with all the pet names he’s given you throughout the span of your friendship, this one hits home.

He says it with the casualness of a boyfriend and tenderness of a lover. You can almost feel him panting it against the crook of your neck as he pushes inside of you, hand clutching yours as his hips roll perfectly against yours. 

You don’t even realize your legs are rubbing together like a cricket at dusk until a warm hand wraps around the top of your thigh. He pulls them apart, spreading your legs like you’ve always dreamed he would. Despite the suggestive position, you still whine at the loss of friction, thoughtlessly fighting against the insisting tug of his hand.

He hushes you gently, a soft tone barely easing your frustration. You latch your fingers onto his wrist, attempting to guide him to the spot that you really need him to touch, but he barely budges. His grip on your thigh tightens when his name drips brokenly from your lips. 

“J-Jake…” 

“Sweetheart, stop.”

“But –”

“Please.” Jake looks down at you with a pained expression, all past chivalry betrayed by the darkness pooled in his eyes.

You look up at him with misty eyes and flushed skin, innocence in the palm of his hand. “I need you.” You bite your lip at your admission, stained red from the wine, and he can’t take his eyes off of you. You pull at him again and this time he lets you. Both of you look down as his hand cups you over your shorts.

“You’re too drunk right now.” The whispered attempt of resistance falls on deaf ears as you arch your hips into his touch. Neither of you notice that the movie ended, leaving you in a silence where only the exchange of breathless pants can be heard. 

“Touch me.” You whine, desperate for anything. Desperate just to be accepted by him.

His gaze briefly flicks up from where he’s touching to regard your eagerness with half-lidded eyes. He shakes his head and looks away like he’s looking for answers on the blank wall next to him. “I…shouldn’t.” 

You start to panic when you feel his hand pull away. It can’t end like this. You hold onto his wrist when a particularly needy idea pops into your mind. If he doesn’t want to ‘defile’ you, then fine. You’ll do it yourself.

“I…c-could i just rub myself against you?” You berate yourself for sounding so meek, so unsure, but you’ve never done anything like this before, never had to take control of the situation. “Like, if you don’t want to…um, touch me.” He looks at you wordlessly, gorgeous lips parted at your suggestion.

His tongue brushes over his bottom lip, “I– Okay, sure…” 

With his permission, you push up against the couch to get up and straddle over him. Clearly, he wasn’t expecting it with how his hands barely hover over your body like he’s unsure whether he wants to pull you closer or shove you off his lap. “Is this okay?” 

“Yeah.” He sounds strained, “But just for a little bit, alright?” 

“Ok.” You promise though you’re sure that once you get a taste, you’ll never want to stop. You have to make this good for him so he’ll want you back.

You settle against him, body thrumming with anticipation when your clothed cunt meets the prominent hardness under his jeans. So he does want it. His hands clasp onto your waist when you start to move over him, hips experimentally rolling against his.

Jake watches you move over him with a look of deep hunger and awe. It’s endearing how shy you are, even now grinding on his lap. Your movements are clumsy – unpracticed as you desperately try to chase that spark that’ll satisfy the heat buried deep down inside of you. 

“That good, baby?” 

You nod, mewling quietly as the seam of his jeans drags perfectly against your clit. Pleasure pools in your stomach, nudging you closer and closer to the edge. You hold onto his shoulders as you work yourself over him, panting from your effort. He starts to cant his hips upwards to meet your thrusts, pressing his erection roughly against your core to show you just how much he wants you. 

All you can think of is how good it would feel to have him bare against you, skin to skin. When you meet your peak, body hot and trembling as you rub against him, the end never comes. It’s not enough. You’re just left teetering at the top with no drop in sight.

You huff, “Jake, can I – just…please.” You let your hands drop from his shoulders to start working on his belt.

“What is it bunny, what do you need?” He looks so good under you with his wrinkled shirt unbuttoned just so to give you a peak of his collarbone and the newly open belt hanging from the loops in his tight jeans. You undo the button, fingers briefly fumbling as your knuckle brushes against his bulge.

“Just need to feel you.” You paw at the waist of his pants, trying to subtly indicate that you need his help to take them off. But he sits there and smiles sweetly at your frustrated huffs. 

“And what about me?” He says in a teasing drawl. He drags you closer to him and cups your face until your lips nearly meet yours. He’s so close that you can make out the light dusting of freckles that grace his nose and cheeks. Amber eyes bore into yours as he whispers, “You’re using my body and haven’t even given me a kiss yet.”

“Oh.” Your gaze drops to his lips, “Sorry.”

“Don’t apologize, baby.” He leans in, “just kiss me.” Your eyes flutter close when you meet the softness of his lips. You immediately melt into the gentle caress of his hand on your jaw with a sigh as he desperately keeps you close. 

Jake groans, drinking in the sweetness of your lips, a taste of pure heaven melting on the tip of his tongue, before hungrily deepening the kiss. He licks against the seam of your mouth, begging you to open yourself up to him. You surrender yourself to him, letting him slide in and taste you from the inside out. 

Your hands move up from his shoulders to his soft curls, tugging eagerly in an attempt to hear the soft groan that rumbles in his chest. He nips at your bottom lip, suckling it until it’s pink and tender, wanting to leave a mark so you’ll always think of him. He can’t help but press against you when you whimper for him, grinding eagerly against your center, wishing he was inside of you instead.  

“Just the tip.” You mumble it against his lips. He’s too far gone to clearly hear what you said, lost in a thick fog of awe, lust, and…love. At his silence, you pull away to look at him, scared you’re asking for too much. “Jake.” He nods thoughtlessly, chasing your lips, already missing your taste. He almost whines when you pull away from his touch, but quickly comes back to reality when he sees the way you’re nervously looking at him. 

He squeezes your waist comfortingly, “Anything you want, bunny.” You smile at the pet name and gratefully peck his lips. He tries to deepen the kiss, hand already pressing against the back of your head, but you cheekily pull away before he gets too far. You stand up, ignoring his objections and clingy touches as you get off of his lap. 

You fluidly slip your shirt over your head before carelessly dropping it to the floor behind you. There’s fire in his eyes as he sits back on the couch and watches you reveal the cute bra that cups you so perfectly. You tease the edge of your waistband as you look down at him, “Off, please.” You gesture at his jeans. He follows your directions, quickly shimmying his pants off, eyes on you the whole time.

You follow him, tugging your shorts off to show him the matching panties. You squeak when warm hands abruptly pull you to the couch, eagerly wandering over your waist and hips as he buries his face against your neck. 

“Can’t help it, baby,” His touch drifts up to cup the underside of your tits, trailing carefully over the curve to memorize the shape of you. “You’re just so fucking pretty.” He groans hot and heavy against your neck as he squeezes your softness. 

You’re back on top of him, naked thighs draped over his, skin against skin, and now, you can feel all of him. He’s pressed so deliciously against your core, pulsing with pure desire and heat. The only thing separating the two of you is fading self-control and a pair of thin panties.

His mustache tickles against your throat as his lips drift over your pulse point. He presses heady kisses against the edge of your jaw, gauging where your most tender spots are. 

“Oh–!” Your thighs clench around him when he touches a particularly delicate area near your ear. He gently nips at the spot, holding you tighter when you moan at the feeling.

Jake lets out a broken groan when you reach between your bodies and take him into your hand. He tries to continue giving your body loving attention with his lips, but his kisses get messy, dragging lazily over your shoulder and collarbone, with how distracted he is by your touch. He has to pull away for a breather and hold himself back from thrusting into your fist when you squeeze him teasingly at the base. 

“Bunny…” You both look down and watch as your smaller hand slowly strokes him. His cock is flush with need, leaking so prettily as you try your hardest to make it good for him. You slip your other hand under his shirt, running your fingers against his coarse happy trail to his rippling muscles. The couch groans next to you as he harshly grips the arm, barely holding himself back with white knuckles. “Oh, f-fuck.” His body stiffens under you as you brush your thumb against the sensitive underside of the tip. 

You tenderly massage the spot, watching in awe as he continues to spill over your fingers, making a mess that drips onto your inner thighs and the edge of his shirt. He groans at the sight, his cock throbbing desperately in your hold.

As beads of white paint your fingers, your mouth waters just thinking about how he tastes. You feel ravenous to see him cum, to watch how easily you can ruin him. “H-hold on, cariño. Give me a second.” Jake chokes out. His hips stutter under you before he pulls your hand away.

"Whyy." You whine, pouting up at him with starry eyes. You reach for him again with the hand he isn’t holding onto, brushing your fingers against his sensitive cock. He shudders for you with a broken groan. 

“I'm close-- just – stop for a moment –” Both hands are pinned to your side as Jake’s chest heaves under his shirt. He rests his head back against the couch, eyes closed as he struggles to hold himself back. 

“But…I want you to.”

“I know, baby,” He lifts his head, dark eyes boring into yours, and pulls your hands behind you. You squirm in his lap, back arching at the position, suddenly remembering your own desperation. It feels good to be bound by his hands, to let him do whatever he wants to your body. “But I don’t wanna finish if it isn’t in you.” 

Your face heats in embarrassment. “Oh.” 

Jake picks up on your sudden shyness immediately. 

“You like that, don’t you, bunny?” He smirks, “The thought of me filling you up, then dripping out of you?”

You bite your lip, “A little bit.”

“A little, hm?” He ponders, “Well why don’t we try it out and see.” Your thighs clench around him at the idea.

“Ok.”

“Sit up, let me see how wet you are.” He helps you raise yourself on your knees so you’re hovering over his lap. Letting go of your wrists, he drags his thumb against your clothed cunt; The fabric has a darkened splotch along your opening, teasing him with evidence of your lust. “Aw, sweetheart, you’re soaked…” He nudges your panties to the side, slipping his fingers against your wet opening. “Gonna ruin these pretty little panties, hm?” You nod wordlessly, hips desperately pushing against his touch.

He gently slides against your dripping entrance, making a mess of your cunt with teasing circling motions. Wet, decadent sounds fill the limited space between you as his fingers prod ever so slightly against the spot where you need him most.  A helpless sound is pushed out of you when he finally eases two fingers inside of you.

“Is that good, bunny?” He coos as he slowly fucks his fingers into you. It’s only his fingers, but he’s already filling you up so deliciously. His dark eyes are hungrily locked on how he fills you up over and over again, slick dripping down his knuckles and over his palm. “Hm?” 

You nod again, brain foggy with pleasure. “Yes, J–” You can barely get a word out when he curls his fingers up, pressing so sweetly and deep against the sensitive walls of your cunt. You have to stop yourself from wrapping your legs around his wrist, it feels so good. “Uh–!” You almost fall over and have to hold onto his shoulders for support as he begins to speed up. 

“That’s it, baby…” Your grip on his shoulders tightens as he rapidly presses against your g-spot. You’re already hurdling towards the edge and he can feel it with how you start to clench around his fingers. “Make a mess of my hand..” Within a handful of thrusts, you’re gasping out with pleasure, your thighs shaking over him. He takes his hand away and holds you against him to keep you sitting upright as your body is overtaken with euphoria. You pant against his shoulder, trying to gather your senses. 

You can feel him under you, hard and wanting, throbbing as you whimper and arch against him, letting the pleasure work through your body. Even when you’re barely coming down from an orgasm, you’re still longing to be filled with something more. But he ignores his own needs, instead focusing on you, softly pecking the top of your head and rubbing comforting circles against your arms. 

You lift your head from his chest to look at him, taking in his flushed cheeks and dark eyes. Jake stares right back, unabashedly, in awe. “You’re so good to me, bunny.” You shiver at the praise. At the comfort. You shyly divert your eyes to stare at the marks you’ve left on his shoulders. 

“Only for you, Jake.” You don’t see it, but his lips lift into a small smile at your words. 

His hands drift down from your arms to hold you by the waist. “Only for me.” He echos, solidifying the statement. 

You gasp when he suddenly presses you down against his cock. Looking back up at him, he meets your wide eyes with a mischievous grin, hips rolling teasingly against yours. “And I’m all yours.” You position yourself over him all while keeping eye contact, wanting to drink in every microexpression on his face. 

“Yes.” You both sigh as he barely brushes against your wet opening. He takes a deep breath, clutching your hips as you begin your descent.

Your body slowly manages to swallow the first inch of him. And – oh – it’s so much better than you expected. He stretches you so fully, even barely inside of you, filling you exactly how you need him to. 

You let out a strained whimper from the back of your throat as you slowly lower yourself onto his lap. You whine as your body desperately clenches and stretches to accommodate him inside of you. His hold on your hips tightens as your thighs meet his, now fully impaled by his hard cock.  

“I thought it was ‘just the tip’.” Jake tries to tease, his deep voice gravelly with lust, but it comes out as more of a groan than a taunt.

You slowly shake your head, body trembling as you get used to the feeling of him inside of you. 

“You said you’re all mine, daddy.” The words practically melt from your lips, lethargic with heat. It catches him off guard. You moan, hips slowly moving over him to feel him deeper inside. “M-mine,” You repeat with a pant, so lost in desperation that you don’t even notice the way he’s looking at you, frozen in place. 

“I-I did say that, didn’t I?” He doesn’t know what else to say, brain overheating from your ministrations. You’ve never called him a pet name before, let alone used the word ‘daddy’ anywhere near him. You’ve always been a shy little bunny around him, always preciously out of reach, a tease to fantasize about, but now you’re wrapped around him, moaning beautifully destructive words. 

What really surprises him is the way he’s eagerly throbbing inside of you from that word. Desperate thoughts float in his mind: She wants me to take care of her, she needs me.

“Fuck me.” He groans to himself, willing his body to hold back from cumming inside of you right then and there. 

“P-please.” You beg with a broken voice, thinking he’s talking to you. Jake just nods understandingly and holds you closer with an arm wrapped around your torso, wanting to feel your whole body against his. He starts off slow, pressing up into your kneeling body with measured thrusts as he dots kisses along your neck and shoulders. You sigh something wistful before meeting his movements, eagerly lifting your hips against him. 

“God, bunny, you feel so good.” He can't help it, you’re all-encompassing like this, with your pretty little sighs and panted breaths, it’s everything he’s ever wanted, so he starts to speed up, projecting his desperation into his actions. Your back arches at the change of pace as he pumps into you, and it only makes him feel deeper. “So tight around me.” He pushes against your front wall on every thrust and you swear it makes you see stars. 

Your clit inevitably rubs against him as your bodies move with each other and it takes your pleasure to another level. You’re sure the sounds you’re making verge on embarrassing, but he seems to eat them up anyway. “Ah, right there--! Jake –”

“No, bunny,” He grits out, “It’s daddy.”

You whimper, “Daddy – ” He feels you flutter deliciously around him as your head begins to lull backward. He groans as your cunt sucks him deep inside, desperately milking his cock as you’re seized by ecstasy.

“Fucking take it, sweetheart.” 

“I-I think m’gonna…” Your eyes roll back before you can finish your sentence and white fills your vision. You let out a keening sound as you gush over him, thighs clenched around his as your second high moves through you. 

His eyes squeeze shut as he gives in and starts fucking you at a punishing pace. Your mouth drops open around an empty moan. You can only hold onto him as he takes what he wants from your body, intensifying your orgasm with sloppy thrusts. With a few more upward pushes, he lets out a breathy grunt and finishes inside of you, painting your walls with his warmth. 

You both stay in this position for a little longer. 

You can feel Jake’s heart beat rapidly against your chest as you cuddle against him. He’s still recovering from the onslaught of sensations and emotions. Both of you are sticky with sweat and slick, but neither of you care. His cock is still inside of you, keeping his cum locked inside as you dutifully warm him with your cunt. 

“Such a pretty girl…” He croons, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear. He looks down at you with such sincerity in his eyes, that it’s almost overwhelming. You bite your lip nervously at the compliment and attempt to look away, but before you can, he’s tilting your face up with the light touch of a finger, “Really? You’re gonna act all shy with my cock still in you?”

His words only make you squirm on top of him. He nearly chokes at the accidental stimulation. 

“You can’t just say stuff like that.” Your voice is small and cute.

“Then how am I supposed to fluster my girl?” 

Your eyes widen. His girl? 

“Your girl?”

“My girl.” He hums with a small smile before placing a soft kiss on your lips.

[ladymochimochi]

✦♡✦ Need To Know - Part Two ✦♡✦

Katakuri x Fem!Reader [AO3 Link] Part One Description: Katakuri's fantasies become reality. Tags: Clothed sex, Face sitting, oral sex (F!Receiving), Multiple orgasms, Dirty talk, Desk sex, Size difference (Reader is slightly sized up to better fit Kata), Come shot, Facial, Come swallowing, 18+ MDNI Words: 3.6k ₊˚ ‿︵‿︵‿︵୨୧ · · ♡ · · ୨୧‿︵‿︵‿︵ ˚₊

It truly was getting to be too much. You could not get the sound of him saying your name that way out of your head. So desperate, so needy. It made your stomach flip and your blood run hot. Ever since that day, it was like you were stuck in a haze - floating through your daily routine around Katakuri’s estate, his moans on repeat inside your head. It had definitely spiced up your private time in your bed chambers at night as well. 

The only issue is that you would never bring this up to him. How were you supposed to go up to your huge and intimidating boss – who you also had a crush on - and casually tell him, “Hey, by the way, I was totally listening in on the other side of the door the other day. It was really hot. Should we...?”.  

Yeah. Not happening. 

So, you had kept your head down and worked diligently while trying to avoid bumping into Katakuri. But that could only last so long and you felt your face go pale when you were told it was your duty this week to clean up his office. 

Not only could you potentially see him in there, it was also the scene of where it all happened. How were you supposed to do your job and not want to die the whole time? 

₊˚ ‿︵‿︵‿︵୨୧ · · ♡ · · ୨୧‿︵‿︵‿︵ ˚₊

Fortunately, luck had been on your side and when you had entered his office after knocking, it was evident Katakuri was out at the moment. You quickly got to work, wanting to get your chores done in here before he could return. His office was quite large but not much was in it. Just a large desk and chair and a chaise lounge with a low table, along with a rug, some decor and bookcases. The chaise lounge you always figured was just a part of the decor since there was no way Katakuri actually used it. 

Just as you were wrapping up, you heard the door open behind you and you froze. Of course, your luck could only last so long. You heard Katakuri say your name like he wasn’t expecting to see you and hearing your name from his lips again sent a shiver down your spine. Gathering your courage to face him long enough to get out of here, you quickly turned and grabbed your bucket of cleaning supplies. 

“I just finished, my lord,” you told him. “I’ll be out of here in a moment.” With a small bow, you attempted to leave but he shut the door behind him before you could even cross the room. Panic flooded your senses and you could only watch as he strode up to you. Certain bloodlines within you made it so you weren’t tiny next to him, but you still only came up to about his abdomen. You shyly looked up at him to see him looking down at you and his gaze made it feel like he was analyzing you.  

“M-My lord?” You stammered out, unsure of what to do.  

“I feel like I haven’t seen you around that much these past few days.” Katakuri told you and you felt a lump form in your throat. You swallowed it down and looked away from him. 

“Oh... W-Well, you know, I’ve been so busy cleaning all over the place. So... So many rooms, you know?” You rambled out, your face going the color of crimson. It was a stupid excuse but you couldn’t just tell him the truth outright. You had been avoiding him but you never expected him to notice. He was an important and busy man and you were just a maid that worked for him. It was clear from the other day that he was attracted to you but the fact that he noticed your absence from his presence made your heart flutter. 

His stare only continued and he made no reply to your excuse. It was evident he was not buying it at all and your odd behavior only piqued his interest even more. You began to fidget, hoping he would just let you go and die from shame in your bed chambers. His eyes drifted down to where you were white-knuckling your cleaning bucket and after a second, he visibly stiffened. 

“...You overheard, didn’t you?” His question was so quiet but you heard it all the same. A knot formed in your stomach and you felt tears prick at the back of your eyes. You could have tried to play dumb and say you didn’t know what he meant but you knew it was pointless and also cowardly. Words bubbled up your throat and you couldn’t stop yourself from speaking out. 

“I’m so sorry, my lord. I truly didn’t mean to but...” You started to confess but you trailed off, not knowing how to excuse your spying on him. Not able to face him anymore, you turned your back to him, still death gripping your bucket. You knew it was rude to do, especially to your boss but your heart just couldn’t take it. “It was wrong of me.” You whispered. 

“No.”  His reply stunned you. “It was wrong of me to do that and then put you in this position.” You turned slightly back to him and while you couldn’t see half of his face due to his signature scarf, you could see the tips of his ears were a dusty pink. The sight made your heart beat faster and it was something you wanted to burn into your brain. You turned away again, staring at his desk. This whole situation was awkward for the both of you but here you were and this needed to be taken care of.  

It was time to be honest. 

“It’s alright... I actually didn’t mind at all.” You said, your face burning hot. He stepped closer and you could feel the heat of his body right behind you. 

“Is that so?” He rumbled out, right by your ear. It sent a shiver down your spine and you finally dropped your bucket. Him being so close was making your head spin.  

“Yes. It was...” You trailed off, feeling too shy to say it aloud. But he wasn’t going to let you off like that. 

“Tell me.” He ordered as he stood back up to his full height and put his hands on your shoulders. You lost your breath at having him finally touch you. Your heart was beating so fast you felt like it may just burst from your chest. Was this really happening? Where was this even going? If it was going where you thought it was, you weren’t going to say no.  

“It was really hot. Hearing you say my name like that, knowing what you were doing on the other side of that door.” You whispered, your skin burning. He didn’t immediately reply and the silence was killing you. 

“What were you thinking about?” You breathlessly asked him and he gripped you tighter. You needed to know. What had been going through his head while he stroked himself to the thought of you? 

A beat of silence passed before he replied. 

“How about I show you?” 

You stared up at him over your shoulder with wide eyes and slowly nodded your head, your mouth now gone dry. With that he turned you around and lifted you up, hitching your legs around his waist. You let out a small, startled noise and clung to his broad shoulders. You didn’t expect him to move so quickly after how slow the two of you were going just a moment ago.  

He brought you over to the chaise lounge and sat down on the edge of it. You were now straddling him and could feel his arousal press into you. It was quite large and it made you swallow while wondering how you were going to take it – if this even went that far. 

His large hands moved to your waist to hold you in place and - to your surprise - he laid back onto the large rectangular cushion.  

“Wh-What are you doing?” You asked him startled. Katakuri was the man who never laid on his back and here he was now laying beneath you. Not that you minded really. Having this huge man now pinned under you made heat coil in your lower stomach. 

His eyes roamed over your body and his hands moved down your waist to your ass, pulling your short dress up to bunch around your hips. He then grabbed your ass roughly and you gasped.  

“I’m going to let you in on a secret.” He said as he kneaded your ass. His movement caused your hips to start rocking, grinding your core against his cock still confined to his pants and you panted lightly. “I do lay on my back from time to time. Especially when I’m about to have my hot maid ride my face.”  

His words stunned you to silence and you could only stare down at him wide eyed, mouth slightly agape. You were most definitely wet at this point and you could feel your pussy throb at how seductive he was being. 

“Now, I’m going to need these off.” He said as stopped kneading your ass and he snapped your panties against the skin of your hip. It jolted you out of your stupor. Biting your lip, you continued to grind yourself down on his arousal. You didn’t want to have to get off of him for even a second.  

“Rip them.” You told him like a soft command and his eyes widened, pupils dilating and he let out a growl as he promptly ripped both sides of your panties. You lifted your hips enough to get the ruined cloth out from under you and he tossed them across the room. 

“Close your eyes.” He rasped to you and while the sudden command left you confused, you did as he said. “Don’t open them until I tell you to.”  

“Yes, my lord.” You whispered in response, darkness the only thing you could now see. Not being able to see what he was going to do to you next added another level of heat to the situation and you could feel your heart beating rapidly in your chest. Then you felt his strong hands on your hips and he was lifting you again. A small gasp left you as he brought you up and set you back again. You felt the soft fabric of his scarf on your thighs and you put two and two together that he had you hovering over his face. Knowing your bare pussy was right in front in his face made you feel so light headed, you were worried you may pass out. 

There was a small sound of fabric shifting and then you felt it. His large, hot tongue licked up your slit and you threw your head back as you let out a loud cry. One of your hands went backwards to brace yourself on his broad chest while the other fumbled to find his hair and you gripped it tightly, earning a grunt from the man below you. His fingers dug into your thighs and then he went to work on you like a man starved. 

You moaned loudly as his tongue lapped at your clit. It was an extreme pleasure you had never felt before and you gripped his hair tighter. Katakuri let out raspy groan in response and flicked his tongue faster. You cried out again and began to move your hips. As you rocked your hips in time with his licking, you could have sworn you felt...fangs? Your mind was in such of a sex haze though that it quickly left your thoughts.  

You could feel your orgasm building quickly and you quietly begged him for more. He started to switch between licking and sucking on your clit and it wasn’t long before your orgasm ripped through you. You let out a high-pitched moan and squeezed your eyes shut, trying not to snap them open. You rode out your orgasm on his face while he kept licking and sucking.  

Once you were able to catch your breath, you started to shift away from him. But he only gripped your thighs tighter. 

“I’m not done yet.” He growled beneath you and you were about to question him when his tongue plunged into your hole. You screamed out at the hot, wet intrusion. Your hand on his chest pressed down harder and you dug your nails into his flesh. You wished you could open your eyes and watch him go to town on you but you didn’t dare disobey him. His tongue repeatedly went in and out of you and you could nothing but moan, pinned down to his face.  

“Holy shit, holy shit, holy shit.” You gasped over and over, another orgasm coming quickly. “It’s so good.” You groaned out, now having found your voice. Katakuri moaned in response and went even faster in and out of you. Your thighs began to shake and you pressed yourself down onto his face harder.  

“Yes, yes, yes!” You squealed out as you rode out your second orgasm. Once this one passed, you let out a harsh breath and doubled over, still keeping your eyes closed.  

You lifted yourself from his face and this time he let you. His own haggard breathing could be heard and it made your walls clench. It reminded you of him jerking off and you hoped you could hear more of his noises. 

With your eyes still shut, he lifted you again and put you back on his lap. His erection felt even harder than before and you bit your lip. There was shuffle of fabric again and you waited for his next order. 

“You can open your eyes now.” He told you and you slowly did so, getting adjusted to the lights again. You looked down at him and drank in the sight of him.  

His hair disheveled, large chest heaving, half covered face flushed red, eyes absolutely hungry. You could come again just looking at him. It must’ve shown on your face because he swiftly sat up, wrapped your legs around him and stood once more. This time he took you over to his desk and set you down on your feet. But your legs were still shaking and you had to grab him before you collapsed to the floor. 

“I got you.” He said as he held you up. “You doing okay?” He asked you gently and you nodded back. “We can stop if you need to.” He said but you shook your head. 

“No, I’m good to keep going. Please don’t stop.” You told him softly, looking up at him. His gaze over his scarf turned hungry again and then he turned you around, placing a hand on your back. His large hand on your back slowly pressed you down so that your front was pressed down against the top of his large desk. The hand still there gently rubbed your back as it slowly made its way down to your ass.  

He pushed your dress up so that you were exposed to him and he turned his hand to slip two fingers into your wet cunt. The sudden intrusion made you cry out as you rocked your hips back to ride his fingers. He large fingers dipped in and out of you at a brutal pace. It stretched you out good and you knew this was in prep for his large cock.  

After everything he had done to you, it wasn't long before you reached yet another orgasm. You were a stuttering mess of oh yes and please as your third orgasm ripped through you. Your breath was ragged as you rode your high. 

“Please...” You started to beg. “I need your cock, my l-lord.” You couldn’t even catch your breath but your body needed him and needed him now. You could feel yourself dripping wet and your thighs slick. 

He removed his fingers from you and you heard the clink of his belt coming undone. Your mind was fully hazy again with lust and all that was on your mind was his cock. You wiggled your ass at him, excited at the prospect of getting fucked. His hand came down and smacked against one of your cheeks causing you to cry out. 

“Stay still.” He ordered huskily and your eyes rolled back.  

“Yes... Yes, my lord.” You panted, the side of your face pressed against his desk. Then you felt the head of his cock as he notched it at your entrance. One of his hands gripped your hip as he slowly directed his cock into you.  

You moaned loudly at the stretch; he was much bigger than you ever expected but you were determined to take it all. His thumb rubbed circles onto your hip as he entered you inch by inch.  

“You’re doing so good.” He gently said to you and you clenched around him, whimpering in reply. Soon he was seated fully within you and you were breathing rapidly at being so full. Once you were fully used to the stretch, you gave him the go ahead to start moving.  

He started out slow, pumping into you with control. Your body was slowly giving into the pleasure, every thrust feeling better and better. You started to mewl and moan and he went faster, fingers digging into your hip. 

“You’re so big.” You said breathlessly. “It’s so fucking good, yes, fuck me.” You pleaded to him, starting to see stars across your vision. 

The hand that had been leading his cock into you slammed down onto his desk next to your head and you gasped. 

You felt his large frame press onto your back as he bent over to be on top of you and your walls clenched ever tighter around him. He started to drill into you and you could barely catch your breath. To be taken in such of a feral fashion made your eyes roll back into your head. 

“This... is what I was stroking my cock to the other day.” He seductively said down to you, his thrusts unrelenting. “You crying out for my cock while I fuck you like this, after I ate my fill of your sweet pussy.” 

His words alone were about to send you into another orgasm. You cried out again and dug your nails into the wood of his desk. At this point, words were beyond you and you were just a crying, mewling mess. The hand on your hip suddenly moved and he brought it between your body and his desk so he could play with your clit. You started to scream out, your legs shaking violently. It was too much, way too much. The feel of his fingers moving against your clit, the harsh thrusts of his huge cock inside you, the press of his body against you. 

Your vision blacked out for a second and yet another orgasm crashed into you at rapid speed. He picked up his pace, fucking you faster and faster through your orgasm. You were screaming so loud you were sure the whole estate – maybe even the whole island – could hear you but you didn’t care at all. Never in your life had you been fucked like this and you were going to enjoy every second of it. 

You were slowing your rapid breathing down when you realized you had been drooling on his desk. As you were going to lift your head, Katakuri grabbed your waist and brought you up himself so the two of you were standing against the desk.  

“There’s one more thing to this fantasy.” He rumbled out to you, slightly out of breath himself. You couldn’t fathom what else he had in store for you but you were willing to go along with anything at this point. “On your knees, mouth open, tongue out.” He ordered and slipped his cock out of you.  

His words made your whole body shiver and your pussy throb yet again. He stepped away from you and it didn’t take much effort for you to get onto the floor. Your body basically thanked you for doing so. You faced him on your knees and this was the first time you actually got to see his cock. 

Your brain short-circuited as you tried to process how the hell that had fit inside of you.  

What brought you out of your thoughts was his hand stroking his huge cock and you remembered he was waiting. Looking up at him, you opened your mouth and stuck out your tongue just like he told you to. He groaned and pumped his fist faster.  

This was really what he fantasized about? Holy shit.  

You placed your hands on the floor in-between your spread knees and hefted your chest up, cleavage on display and stuck your ass out, wanting to give him the best view. His face, still half hidden by his scarf, flushed at you doing this and his eyes had a look of desperation in them. His fist went faster and faster until he let out a guttural moan and his cum shot out onto you. 

You closed your eyes as most of it landed on your tongue but some ended up on your cheek and even the top of your breasts. Slowly opening your eyes, you made eye contact with him and then drew your tongue back into your mouth and visibly swallowed.  

“Fuck.”  

It was all Katakuri could mutter after seeing such a display. You tilted your head to the side while still looking up at him, smiling softly but with wicked look in your eye. 

“Was it everything you wanted, my lord?” 

[donatellawritings]

rafe x latina!reader who backs it up on him teeheheheee

i’m blushing :3

obnoxiously loud trap music blared through the speakers of topper’s house, the intense vibration of the bass, coupled with the multiple shots of tequila you’d taken earlier tantalizing you as your every inhibition ceased to exist in this very moment. your smudged and glossy mouth expanded into a drunken grin as you rolled your lace miniskirt-clad hips, your french manicured nails cascading over your the swells of your perky breasts, tracing the lining of your matching lace bandeau top, its hem neatly wedged underneath the plump curve of your boobs. a tipsy giggle left your lips as you grabbed ahold of kiara’s hand, swaying your hips side to side as you beckoned for her to dance with you.

your cousin had solely accompanied you with the intent to keep a watchful eye over you, she didn’t miss how rafe had kept his bright blue eyes on yours throughout the duration of the night — he’d been the one to invite you to the party, eager to see just how you let loose after your initial introduction just a few weeks prior. much to kiara’s distaste, you had accepted rafe’s invitation with a cheesy smile, of course flaunting your body in the skimpiest outfit you could find. you loved having an excuse to show yourself off like the doll you were, your face painted in glittery and smoky makeup, your wispy eyelashes perfectly curled, blown-out hair perfectly tousled, and swollen lips glossed in dior.

a dramatic gasp escaped your lips as the music continued to vibrate through the speakers, your doe eyes widened in excitement, “kie, s’my favorite song,” you slurred for about the tenth time in an hour, pulling your lips into a pout as you cousin forced a tight-lipped smile at you, “why don’t y’wanna dance with me?” you whined, dismissively rolling your eyes at kie as she parted her lips to spew a lame excuse. your glazed over eyes widened as a cool hand rested firmly against the exposed small of your back, a dopey smile pulling on your glossy lips as rafe came into your hazy line of vision.

flashing his million dollar smile at you, rafe kept the palm of his hand against your warm skin, leaving you a blushy and tipsy mess as he acknowledge kie’s presence with a curt nod of his head, before returning his attention to you as he tapped his ringed finger against your lower back, “what’s wrong, princess — a pretty girl like you, shouldn’t be pouting at a party,” he teased, bringing his bottle of beer to his pink lips as you bit down into the fat of your bottom lip with a coy shrug. rafe’s hand smoothly slid to rest on the curve of your hip as his staggering height leaned in closer to you, his warm breath hitting the shell of your ear, “y’can dance with me, if you want to, mama,” he spoke, loud enough the cut through the music, but low enough for only you to hear.

nodding your head, you rested your small hand on rafe’s flexed arm as you leaned up on the tips of your toes, “only if you let me finish that,” you pointed to his quarter-filled bottle, eager to fill yourself with some more liquid courage as rafe glanced at his bottle, a smirk playing on his lips as he nodded in agreeance, swallowing thickly, his tanned neck adorned by his gold chain that peeked from underneath the collar of his t-shirt.

suddenly, rafe’s hand gently grabbed ahold of your jaw as he angled your head back, a flustered sigh leaving his lips at the sight of you wet and inviting mouth, “stand still, a’ight?” he huffed, his lips parting as he poured the remaining beer from his bottle, straight into your mouth, his tongue sliding over his bottom lip as you held onto his waist, a victorious chuckle escaping your throat as you swallowed down the bitterly frigid liquid. “y’took that shit like a pro,” he praised, a dopey grin painted on his handsomely structured face as you brought your tipsy gaze to meet his, your glossy lips now shining from the stray drips of beer.

swinging an arm around the back of your neck, rafe pulled you in close, his lowly hung eyes meeting kiara’s displeased gaze as you stumbled into his side, “m’gonna take her to dance — i got her tonight,” he decided, craning his neck back to search your eyes for any signs of displeasure, his chest burning with pride as you wordlessly nodded, before excitedly grabbing his large hand and dragging him away from your strictly unamused cousin.

“i love you, kie — besitos!” you called out, quickly mouthing a ‘sorry’ to your cousin before dragging rafe to the nearest corner you could find, your bright eyes widening as you found a dark and secluded corner in the back of topper’s living room.

it only took a few seconds for rafe to spin you so that he leaned against the wall, his long legs spread as he snaked his toned arms around your front, pulling you flush against him. your eager pussy ached at the feeling of his bulge pressed against your ass, the thin lace material of your skirt failing to properly conceal you. this is what it feels like by banks began to hum through the speakers, a content hum vibrating through your supple lips as you slowly rolled your hips to match the rhythm of the song, your nose exhaling a content sigh as you rolled your hips harder against rafe’s clothed-erection.

“shit,” rafe sighs, running a hand over his shaven face as he watches the plush curve of your ass rub perfectly against the thick tip of his achingly hard cock. so much so, that he’d pulled up his shirt, exposing his hard stomach as he held the hem of his shirt between his sharp teeth. “y’so fuckin’ pretty,” he huffs, biting down into the fabric as you rolled your hips just a bit faster, a mischievous smile playing on your smeared and swollen mouth as you leaned the back of your head against rafe’s shoulder, pressing your ass harder against him.

if you continued this, rafe knew that he’d pathetically cum in his pants, placing his heavy hand on your hip in a failed effort to at least, pause your movements. “m’gonna cum, if you keep doin’ that,” he warned, his voice strained as he allowed the hem of his shirt to fall from between his teeth. rafe’s stomach tightened as you looked up at him through your wispy lashes, a bit back moan leaving your lips as you pressed firmly against rafe’s strained cock. shaking his head, rafe flipped the two of you, pushing you up against the wall, mushing his lips against yours in a greedy and sloppy kiss.

“been watchin’ you shake your little ass all night, mama,” he moaned, his breathing heavy as you hiked one of your legs around his waist, your acrylic nails scratching at the buzzed hair at the nape of his neck. rafe mindlessly rolled his hips into yours, his sensitive tip aching at the friction as you bit down into his bottom lip with a throaty moan.

there was a damaged part of you that got off on knowing that you were about to make rafe cameron cum right in his pants. yet, you couldn’t deny the delicious friction that came with his clothed cock pressing right against your wet panty-covered pussy. “keep going, papi, please,” you moaned, swallowing as rafe’s tongue slid flat against yours, his hand now cradling the back of your head as he pressed his forehead to yours, both of you still engrossed in your messy kiss as rafe rolls his hips into yours a few more times, letting out a strained moan into your mouth as you lowered your now jellylike leg.

rafe continued the kiss for a few more seconds as he came down from his high, his blown pupils meeting yours as the two of you shared a knowing laugh. “did me calling you papi, make you cum?” you asked sweetly, your bright eyes wide with anticipation as rafe playfully mushed your cheeks together with one hand, adjusting the hem of your ridden up skirt with the other.

“just don’t call anyone else that, y’understand?” he spoke sternly, thankful for the dark environment of topper’s house as he grabbed ahold of your waist, placing you to stand directly in front of him, concealing the sticky mess he’d left on the fabric of his khakis.

with a blushing smile, you nodded compliantly, “understood, papi.”

now donning a prideful smirk, rafe nods to himself, “m’gonna take you home with me,” he decided, his tone firm as you wordlessly agreed, rubbing your small hand against the warm and sticky patch that darkened rafe’s pants with a shit-eating grin on your face.

[miniwheat77]

Bunny. (Dark!141 x Reader)

*REPOST* (A comment if this reached your feed would be amazing.)

!CW! NSFW, Smut, Gang bang, 141 being creepy and dark, Virgin!reader, reader being innocent, implied consent, oral sex (m&f receiving), coercion, drugs & alcohol, roofies, double penetration, unprotected sex, pure filth. (Sorry if I missed any.)

GET A WATER BEFORE YOU READ 🥵

You were excited to be chosen to be apart of Task Force 141.

You felt special because you know only the most skilled are chosen for the team.

Your first few weeks on the base was awesome. It was pretty hands on, missions every week. There was always something around every corner, but once Hassan had been eliminated, there wasn’t much to do other than your chores around the base. You did your fair share of research but there weren’t any new leads on the next target. It was boring and most of your time you spent inside your room on base.

You noticed that everyone was pretty quiet on base. They didn’t do much talking and they seemed to have this dark look in their eyes when they looked at you.

You ignored it and always made conversation with them anyways, not wanting any tension between you. You noticed sometimes they made jokes about you right in front of you, mostly about how innocent you are. You didn’t like that they made fun of you, but you always just laughed it off.

You did your best at being patient with them.

Sometimes you didn’t like what they had to say about other women on base or had previously been on it with them. They usually said pretty derogatory insults. Or gross ones you didn’t want to cause any trouble so you stayed quiet, usually just excusing yourself from the table. You didn’t want to hear it.

You sat at your desk in your assigned room. It was quiet. You were looking through a stack of paper, looking for any leads on a next target. A knock at your door brought you out of your thoughts, turning to look at the door. “Come in!” You called.

“Hey. We’re playing a drinking game. You want to play?” Gaz asks. “Uh.. I don’t know about that.” You laugh. Knowing that something like this probably wouldn’t go too well. He crosses his arms. “Oh come on.. don’t be such a prude.” He rolls his eyes. You sigh. You had a bad feeling about this. He continues to pressure you for a few minutes before you finally cave in. “Alright fine.” You stand up from your desk, following him out.

Everyone is already waiting. They have everything laid out on the table. It’s the large oak table in the meeting room. They’re all sitting around it. “Alright. We’re starting with one on one. You and Ghost will go against each other first.” You look confused. “Just so you’ll get used to it, yeah? You have to throw the penny into the shot glass while blindfolded, if you don’t make it, you have to drink. Whoever drinks all 5 shots first loses.” You nod your head. They pass you a blindfold, Gaz helps you tie it behind your head. The small shot glasses are lined up in front of you.

You don’t see that they never put a blindfold on Ghost.

Ghost takes the tiny vial of white crushed powder out of his pocket, he’d come prepared. This had been planned out for some time.

He taps the vial until it’s empty into the first shot glass, allowing you to go first. You miss the first shot, and they pass you the shot glass. Evil smiles playing at their lips. You had no idea what was about to happen. You tip it back, flinching at the taste of the liquor as it burns your throat. You miss all 5 of your shots and somehow, Ghost doesn’t miss one. You’re 5 shots in, feeling out of it. They catch up a little bit, taking shots here or there just to give themselves a little bit of liquid courage. “So. How long have you been in the military?” Soap asks. You smile. “Few years.” Your words are slurred and you’re almost exactly where they want you. “Yeah? You were on bases before this obviously. Got a favorite?” He asks. “Not really. Aside from this one.” You shrug. “Yeah?” He smirks. “You a barracks bunny Y/N?” He asks. “What’s that?” You ask, confused.

He laughs, he just can’t help it. “So innocent..” he mumbles. “It’s a girl who has sex with everyone on base.” He smirks. Your eyes go wide. “Oh.. no. No I’m not.”

“Hey, I’m not judging.” He laughs. “I’m not a… barracks bunny.” Your cheeks are on fire. “I’m just fucking with you darling, relax.” He places his hand on your thigh. “Here. Drink more. Loosen up.” You start to notice the amount of pressure they’re putting on you. “I don’t know. I think I’m done.” You laugh nervously. “Oh come on. Don’t be such a buzz kill.” He rolls his eyes. He convinces you to take another few shots, your face is hot and the heat between your legs is becoming too much to bear. You notice they’re passing around a joint.

When they offer it to you, you shake your head. “I don’t really think we should be doing this.” You breathe, going to stand up. You find it’s pretty hard to move. “All is good here. It’s my base after all.” Captain Price reassures you. You’re so close to where they need you.

After about an hour of passing around the joint, convincing you to take more and more shots of liquor. You’re ready.

“You ever met a barracks bunny before?” Soap asks. You shrug. “Heard rumors.” You giggle. “Yeah. Must be pretty fun I imagine. I mean.. getting to fuck that much in one day.” He smiles, tipping back a shot. “You ever fucked more than one person in a day Y/N?” He asks. You shake your head shyly. “No.. I’ve never had sex.” You mumble. “Why not?” He asks. “Religious?” He smirks. “Oh no.. it’s nothing to do with that. Just.. never crossed paths with the right person.” You shrug. “I was always bullied for being ugly in school too so..” you laugh. “Really?” Gaz gathers your attention. You nod your head. “Jesus.. that’s fucked up. And not true, you’re stunning.” He smiles, resting his hand on your thigh. “Oh.. thank you.” You smile. “Yeah, I’d fuck you.”

Your cheeks burn and you avoid his gaze. “Yeah I’d fuck you too.” Soap winks. You laugh, looking away from them. “Maybe you should let us.” Gaz lifts your chin to make you look at him. “W-what?” You ask. “Yeah. Maybe you could be our little barracks bunny hm?” He smiles. “I… I don’t know about that.” You breathe. “Oh come on.. we’ll take good care of you sweetheart. Nothing to worry about.” He moves himself closer to you. “I just.. I don’t know. I thought maybe I’d start slow for my first time.”

“We can start slow. Come on.” He tilts his head. You take in a deep breath as he takes your hand, helping you up. “Gaz.. I’m really not sure about this.” You swallow hard, your words are unstable and you’re unsteady on your feet as he lifts you up onto the wooden table. “Hey. Just relax alright?” He brushes your hair back behind your ear. You’re so far gone you can barely think straight. “Nothing to worry about. We’ll be real gentle with you.” He pushes you back by your chest gently. You’re tense as he reaches for the waistband of your pants. You can’t help but like the attention you’re getting from them. Maybe it’s the weed or liquor. Your blood feels hot in your veins, body warm and fuzzy as they surround you. “Fuck.. look at you.” Ghost mumbles. Running his fingers down your chest. You look up at him, the sweet look in your eyes has his stomach curling. It’s almost as if you have no idea what they’re about to do to you. The filthy things running through their heads, about to play out like a film.

“So pretty. Such a good girl.” Ghost mumbles. You close your eyes, biting your lip lightly as you relax into the table. He grasps the hem of your shirt, pulling it up and over your head.

You’ll be the perfect bunny after this.

Gaz has your panties at your ankles and they’re drooling, like a pack of wild dogs. “Captain. She was your idea, get in here.” Gaz nods at his Captain.

John smiles, moving between Soap and Gaz. He moves himself up until his clothed crotch is pressed up against your bare pussy. He sighs. Running his hand over your chin. “You are pure sin my darling. So fucking pretty.” He breathes. He slides a finger into your mouth and you take it, sucking gently at it. He groans out. He pulls away from you, Unzipping his pants just enough to where he can free his cock. "Are you ready darling?" He asks. His cock is standing at attention. The tip is blushing red. Begging for release. He's huge. You don't know how he's supposed to fit. You're looking up at him, he can tell you're nervous. "It's alright. Relax for me okay?" You nod your head, resting on your arms.

Not only are you about to give your virginity to your captain, but your entire task force is watching. Waiting to be next up. A whimper leaves your lips when he glides his tip up through your folds. You’re dizzy, everything feels fuzzy.

Your reaction speed is off, only feeling the tightness from his cock after he’s already buried himself inside of you. You shift uncomfortably, whimpering and trying to slide your hips away from him. “Hey. You’ll get used to me. Calm down.” He soothes. He holds your hips steady. Another whine leaves your lips, tears filling up your eyes. Ghost is quick to soothe you, helping you lay back on the table. Soap is running his fingertips over your stomach, soothing your skin. Ghost cups your face, his warm breath on your face distracts you from the tearing you feel from your Captains massive cock. You weren’t ready but you would be. “Shhh. S’alright. Should start to feel good soon.” Ghost mumbles, kissing your tears away.

They’re evil. Devils standing around you, waiting to devour you whole. They’d had this planned from the start. They planned it all out. What they’d do to you, how they’d get you to give into them.

You’re starting to pant, your legs are numb but you can feel the pleasure of him sliding into your pussy. “Cmon, prop yourself up.” Ghost helps you. “Watch him. Watch him fuck your pussy.” You gasp out, clutching at the sides of the table as you see it. He’s slid his shirt up over his hips, and you can get a good look at the way he slides into you. Hands gripping at your hips. It’s intense. You tilt your head back, moaning out. Your brain is a blur, all you can think about is how good he feels. You wince when you feel something building, pushing your hips into him more. “F-feels weird.” You whimper. “S’alright. Just get used to it.” You whimper, holding yourself steady so that he can get the perfect angle. “Feels.. it feels- ah!” You cry out.

You soak your Captain’s jeans, and his eyes are wide.

You’re panting, pulling away from him. “I.. I’m sorry.” You whimper. He grasps your thighs, pulling you back down. “Fuck.. didn’t know you could do that.” He breathes.

Their eyes are blown wide with lust, cocks throbbing behind cargo pants and jeans. They all want a piece of you. They all want to make you squirt on them.

“Didn’t take long to make her do that Cap.” Gaz laughs. “Course not. I know exactly what girls like her like.” He smiles. You’re looking up at him, a look in your eyes they haven’t seen yet. Your chest is rising and falling with every deep breath you take. “Did you like that baby?” He asks. You nod your head lazily. He smiles, sliding himself back inside of you. Seeing your eyes close. You tilt your head back, moaning out at the way he fills you up. Eyes are burning into you, the tension in the room is thick. John is not as gentle as he was to start, thrusting into you with more force than before. It was clear you were going to be a wreck when they were finished with you. He’s got a tight grip on your thighs, head tilted back as you wrap so tight around him. “Fuck.. so fucking tight-“ he hisses. “Not going to last long with you darling.” He chuckles. You’re gripping the table hard, knuckles turning white. He lifts your legs up onto his shoulders and you cry out as he bottoms out, your lower stomach cramps up slightly from the new angle. “Ah- fuck!” He growls. He pulls out of you, pumping his cock fast with his hand. He pushes your legs apart slightly, finishing on your stomach with a groan. You tilt your head back, panting out. “Did so good.” Ghost mumbles, brushing your hair out of your face.

“Sit up.” He breathes. He helps you adjust yourself. You’re propped up on your hands and knees. Feet hooking over the edge of the table, ass on display for them all to see. “W-what now?” You breathe. “Just going to get you ready darling. Calm down.” He rests his gloved hand onto your back. He’s trying to soothe you. You hear what sounds like a cap clicking shut, turning to see Ghost putting lube on his aching cock. He’s massive.

Thank god your Captain stretched you a little bit.

“Cmere.” Ghost pulls you back into him. Pushing your back down until you’re low enough to be lined up with his cock. You feel him nudging at your ass, jumping away from him. Your reaction time is slow. “I- woah. I don’t think I’m ready for that-“ you breathe. “It’s okay.” He grasps your hips again, pulling you back. “Be a good girl and be still.”

“Ghost I-“

“Simon.” He growls. “Simon I don’t think I’m ready.” You whimper. “Relax. I won’t hurt you.” He breathes.

You suck in a sharp breath, feeling his bare fingers circling your tight hole, nudging into you deeper with each pump. At least he’d ditched his glove. You flinch away from his touch as he seeps deeper into you. You take in a deep breath. “S’alright. Doing so good lass.” Soap moves next to Simon, circling his fingers over your clit at an attempt to make you relax. It works and you relax into Johnny’s touch, body relaxing slightly. You make it easier on Simon as you relax, his fingers sliding easier into you. The feeling is foreign. It doesn’t hurt and it’s not bad. You relax into him more. Johnny keeps rubbing gentle circles over your clit. You’re a mess already.

You feel Simon’s cock nudging at your entrance and you’re nervous. He’s much bigger than his fingers. A whine leaves your lips when he pushes into you, cock burrowing deeper into your ass. The feeling is too much. You lean forward away from his aching cock, but he follows you with his hips, reaching forward to stop you and hold you still. “Relax into me.” He breathes. “Keep rubbing her clit Johnny.” He spits on the base of his cock, working himself deeper. Johnny does, keeps rubbing gentle circles into your clit so that you’ll relax more. You let out a mewl, the sensation was too much. “Halfway there darling. Just.. a little more.” He breathes. You’re clutching the table, whimpering with each small circle Johnny runs over your entrance. It’s so good. They’re pushing you so much. When your ass finally presses against Simon’s front, he groans out. You’ve taken him all of the way.

You whimper, moving your hips forward and back into his cock. “Oh fuck baby. You want it that bad huh?” He smirks. “Don’t worry. Me n Johnny are gonna fill you up real nice.” He breathes. You can’t say anything, your vision is blurry and you’ve got tears in your eyes but all you know is that whatever this is, it feels amazing. Simon lifts you up off of the table, Johnny moving to your front and grasping hold of you by your thighs. Sliding his cock into your pussy. You straddle Johnny and Simon still had his cock buried inside your ass.

You tilt your head back with a cry, so completely full of them.

Your eyes roll back when they slide out of you, starting to thrust themselves back into you. You’re a mess, can barely stay quiet as they fuck you. “Fuck.. you’re so tight.” Johnny growls. “Been waiting fucking months for this sweet pussy.” He chuckles, teeth gritted. “How does it feel hm?” He mumbles, lips right by your ear. “Went from a body count of 0 to 3 in just a few minutes Hm?” He taunts.

You’re sobbing. Hands are clutching Johnny’s shoulders and your body is shaking. You’ve absolutely soaked them both in your cum, unsure of where you even are anymore. You probably can’t even say your own name at this point. Everything is blurry and fuzzy, you can’t move your body anymore. They’re holding you exactly where they want you. You wrap your arms around Johnny’s neck, laying your head on his shoulder. “Can’t be done yet sweetheart.” He chuckles. “Gaz hasn’t had a go at you yet. You don’t want him to be deprived so you?”

You shake your head, looking over his shoulder at Gaz. He’s pumping his cock, you lock eyes with him. You lick your lips and he nearly cums right there. “Ah- getting tired.” Soap complains. “Here.” Ghost grabs hold of you. Johnny slides out of you and you whimper. “Relax.” Ghost smirks. He lays you onto the table, pushing your face into the cool wood. His hips are hammering against yours, thrusts getting sloppy. He’s close. “Oh yes- fuck I love fucking this tight ass of yours. So fucking good.” He growls. His hand slapping against your ass makes you want to jump forward but you can’t. A whimper leaves your lips, tightening down around Ghost. “Oh fuck- I’m going to cum.” He pants. “Fuck- oh fuck!” He gasps. His hips halt and you gasp, the foreign feeling of something flooding inside of you. You finally raise your head to look at him. His hands resting on your hips. Cock nestled inside of your ass.

He slides out of you, watching his filth spill back out of your hole. He smiles at the work he’d done. Soap is quick to flip you over, burying his cock back inside of you. “Just one more. And than you’re going to treat Kyle very well darling.” He smirks. You nod your head lazily. Johnny pinches your nipples, smiling at the way you cry out. “Fuckin tight pussy baby. Give me one more hm?” He smiles. He rubs circles over your clit with his thumb. A whine leaves your lips and you try to wiggle your hips away from him but he holds you still. You can feel another orgasm building. Right on the edge. You push his hand away from you, running circles over your own clit. You’re going quickly. “Yeah that’s a good girl.” He grips your hips, pounding into you. “You rub that little clit for me. Nice n fucking wet for my cock.” He tilts his head back, swallowing hard. His skin is sweaty and red and he’s right on the edge. Your moans are getting louder and more frequent. Your hand is moving quickly as you rub your clit. “Fuck yes!” He growls. Your eyes roll back, body lurching as you cum again. Soaking him completely. He holds you steady until you’re worn out, sliding out of you and finishing right on your stomach, just like his captain had.

He’s panting, and your eyes are droopy.

“You can’t sleep yet.” Soap tries to shake you awake. “It’s fine. I’ll get it out of her one way or another.” Gaz laughs. Soap nods his head.

“I’ll take her to her room, get her cleaned up.”

Gaz made sure to do a good job. You were already undressed so running a bath for you and using a small towel to clean your skin was easy. Washing your hair was a bit harder. You were out cold. He redressed you in one of his shirts, helping you into bed.

When the light just began to show through your window, he knew it was his turn.

You’re still out cold but he knew this would wake you.

His face buried between your thighs, tongue lapping at your entrance. Sucking your clit and flicking his tongue over your clit. You’re stirring in your sleep, moaning. Your eyes open and you’re still dazed, but you know whatever you’re feeling is amazing. You push your blanket back, whining out at the sight of him between your thighs. “Gaz?” You whimper. He draws himself away from you. “You still owe me princess.” He breathes, returning to devour you. “What do you want me to do?” You whine. Your pussy is sore, but he’s soothing you. “M’gonna fuck this pussy. Nice n slow.” He pulls away for a second, sucking your clit between his lips and drawing away from you. “Show you who you belong to.” He breathes. You nod your head. He sits up, his cock is throbbing hard.

He pushes his sweatpants down his legs, pumping his hard cock as he lines himself up with your entrance. “Actually..” he mumbles. Pulling away. “Why don’t you show me what you’ve gone hm? Get up.” You listen, standing up. He lays down. “Get up here. I’ll help you.” He mumbles. You nod your head, straddling his hips and sinking down onto his cock. Your thighs shiver at the size of him, a mewl leaving your lips. “Ah- too much.” You whimper. “You’ll get used to it. Ride my cock baby.” You nod your head, rocking your hips into him. You rest your hands on his chest, raising your hips off of him. He circles your clit with his fingers, he needs to cum soon. He’s been waiting all night for this, he’s not going to last long.

You’re rocking into him faster, moaning out. You’re enjoying yourself and that’s exactly what he wants. “Who do you belong to darling? Who’s barracks bunny are you?” He smirks. “Y-yours-“ you whimper. A sharp slap to your ass has you whimpering. “Wrong, who do you belong to? Who’s barracks bunny are you?”

“141.” You whine. “Hm? I didn’t hear you.” He breathes. “Task Force 141, I’m task force 141’s barracks bunny!” You cry. Your hips halt as you soak him, and he cries out, pushing your hips off of him as he finishes. “Shit!” He growls. Pumping his cock quickly, costing your ass in his cum.

You relax into him, panting.

He once again helps you clean up, but leaves you alone this time. You needed to rest.

While you were on base with them, you were always going to keep them busy.

[shu-porang-porang]

First Love / Late Spring

Your first time with Minho (I wrote the whole thing just to picture that last paragraph!)

Pairs: Lee Minho (Lee Know) / fem!reader

Theme: fluff, explicit

Warnings: smut, oral (female receiving), unprotected sex (do not try at home!!), fluffff, not proofread, 18+ NO MINORS

Word count: 2 k

It’s only your fourth date and you’re nervous around him. He’s not exactly easy to approach, he’s guards are up, he talks politely as if you’re a coworker, and he doesn’t initiate nor seem comfortable with any type of intimacy. If he hadn’t asked for another date, you would’ve thought he wants to have nothing to do with you. But the fact that he wanted to see you again assures you that he’s interested and is doing his best, so you decide to be more understanding and give him time to open up. That’s how you ended up having a movie date with him at your place. You realized he tends to stiffen up way more when in public, probably he’s afraid of rumors and whatnot, so you offered to just stay in, order some takeouts and watch a movie, which he gleefully accepted.  

It's indeed a chill date. Although you’re both kinda awkward, you manage to ignore the awkwardness and enjoy your meal and the movie. Not much is said during the movie, just a few comments on the characters and hard-to-grasp story line, yet these few exchanges reveal more of his true personality and make you wanna kiss his beautiful brain.

You started the movie sitting apart, neither of you confident enough to invite the other for hugs and cuddles, but towards the end, you summoned all the courage in you to reach for his hand, place it in your lap and mindlessly play with it. You see the tiniest smile in the corner of your eye that encourages you to keep going. Oh how bad you wanna bring it to your lips and kiss those gorgeous veins but you control yourself. You have no idea how the movie ended; you were too lost in holding his hand to follow the rest of the story.

He untangles his fingers from yours to fish for his phone in his pocket and checks the time.

“Oh it’s quite late, I better get going.”

Really? Was that it? Has he never heard of Netflix and Chill? Was he really here to just watch a stupid movie? You try your best to hide the disappointment but your expressions always give you away easily, you’re not the type to act. You try to think of sth to convince him to stay for a bit more, but there’s really no excuse that wouldn’t make you seem so desperate. Now that your brain cogs are running fast you realize the constant tapping of the rain that your ears had tuned out, so you give it a shot.

“You didn’t drive your car here, right? And I think it’s quite a heavy shower from the sound of it, you can stay till it’s over?”

“It’s alright, I can just get a cab or sth…” he says but he doesn’t seem so persistent. Maybe it’s just your desperation fooling you, but you sense he might not hate the idea of staying a bit longer.

“Anyways, I don’t mind, you can stay. I’ll prepare some tea!” You mentally face palm! TEA? Is that the best you could do to convince him to stay?

“Tea sounds perfect!” Turns out that was good enough!!

“Alright then!” You say a bit too excited, then get up to hurry with making the tea coz you don’t know how long the unpredictable spring shower is gonna last. 

To your surprise, your little tea party gives way to talking about everything and nothing for hours, the rain long forgotten. It’s like in a night, you got 10 years’ worth of information about him. If he didn’t know any better, he’d say you put a spell on him with that tea! He opened up to you more than he’d like to admit, so did you. You’re both private people but something just clicked tonight. You feel much closer to him now and hope he feels the same.

When you both finally fall silent and seem to have run out of stories for the night, you bring your hand up to his cheek, caressing it gently with your thumb. “Let’s go to bed, you had a busy day, need to get some rest.”

He leans in to your touch, holding your hand and turning his head to kiss your palm. “If we go to bed, resting is the last thing I wanna do.” It brings a shy smile to your lips, he’s suddenly bold and it makes your heart flutter. You get up and lead the way to your bedroom.

Once in the bedroom, his hand cups your face to bring it close for the sweetest kiss. His lips lock on yours and he takes a deep breath inhaling your scent before kissing you. He slowly pushes you back till the back of your knees hit the edge of the bed. He lays you down on it gently, never disconnecting his lips. Each kiss is planted with utmost care, as if you’d break under his touch if he’s not careful. It’s sweet and at the same time annoying. You want him to devour you, to act bolder, to do what he really wants to do. You pull the hair at his nape and tilt your head to deepen the kiss. Thankfully, he gets the hint and his kisses get sloppier and more aggressive as he enters his tongue in your mouth. His hand roams over your clothed body, yanking at the fabric of your dress, you’re too distracted by his tongue and teeth assaulting your mouth that you don’t realize he wants it gone.

He breaks the kiss to ask: “Can I take it off?” to which you manage to answer: “Yes please” while panting.

He helps you out of your dress, lying there in your lacy underwear you feel exposed under his intense gaze, his eyes darker than usual and hooded with lust. The blush that creeps up to your cheeks is visible even in the dim lights of the room. After taking in the sight of your somewhat naked body for a few long seconds, he lowers his body back onto yours while removing his shirt. He kisses a trail from the column of your neck down to your chest. He reaches a hand back to unclasp your bra and you shuffle out of it, giving him access to your soft breasts. He covers them in playful kisses before taking a hardened nipple in his mouth sucking gently which draws a yelp from you and your hips jerk into his involuntarily. Your reaction encourages him to suck harder and his fingers take care of the other nipple, twisting and pinching the sensitive nub to demolition. He’s quite satisfied with your little whimpers here and there; he hums in approval which reverberates through your entire body.

You open your legs wider to fit him in between. As he adjusts himself between your thighs, he slides down, leaving butterfly kisses on his way to your panties. His face is only millimeters away from your throbbing core, he can feel the heat radiating from it. He looks up at you, silently asking if he can proceed. You hastily nod, how could you say no to those gorgeous feline eyes? He flashes you a little smirk before dipping his nose to your covered core and taking a whiff with his eyes closed, as if he’s taking in the scent of a flower bouquet. You’re embarrassed and turned on at the same time. Finally, he removes your panties and discards it somewhere on the floor, and without hesitation darts his tongue out to lick a fat stripe from your hole to your clit. You feel your orgasm building up as he keeps alternating between lapping at your entrance and sucking on your clit. Your grip on his hair gets tighter and your thighs close around his head. To bring you to completion, he inserts two fingers in so he can dedicate his mouth to your clit. Soon after you cum moaning his name, like how you imagined you would. He helps you ride your orgasm and kisses your inner thighs as you’re coming down from it, trying to catch your breath.

He crawls up and moves the strands of hair away from your face so he can kiss you and give you a taste of yourself. “You taste so good; you should try it.” he says before closing his lips on yours and shoving his tongue in, you suck on it, tasting the remnants of your arousal.

“Do you think you can keep going?” he whispers against your lips.

“I sure can.” you reply, closing the gap to kiss his swollen lips again.

He sits back up and you watch him with anticipation. You felt his bulge multiple times tonight, but still have no idea what’s coming for you. He’s fast to unbuckle his belt and rid himself of his pants and boxers. His erection, hard and proud, slaps against his stomach. You certainly did not expect this. It scares you a bit, even though he worked you up well you’re afraid you might need more preparation to fit it in. His hand wraps around it pumping a few times and smearing precum on the tip before hovering back over you, he slides it between your folds to cover it in your juices. You wrap your arms around him and bring him closer for a kiss, no matter what, you can’t get enough of those soft lips. You feel his tip poking your entrance and your mouth falls slack once it finally enters you. Your grip around him tightens and breath is knocked out of your lungs as the stretch overwhelms you.

“Are you okay baby? should we stop?” he asks once he notices how tensed you got.

“No… just… a second” you don’t want it to end there, you want him, all of him.

He peppers kisses all over your face while waiting for you to adjust, telling you how perfect you are and how well you’re doing in between the kisses. It melts your heart how gentle he is. You ask him to move and he sinks a bit deeper, and deeper, and deeper until there’s no more room for him to go, yet he manages to rearrange your insides and bottoms out. He stays still for a while, brows furrowed, eyes screwed shut, enjoying the warm hug of your velvety walls around him, then he starts with slow thrusts, testing the waters. Soon the room is filled with lewd sounds of skin slapping and moans. He shakes the bed with each thrust, you hold onto him for dear life, years of dance practice and workout have given him unmatched strength, his precision is remarkable as well. You’re about to fall apart for the second time tonight.

“Min…. cumming..”

“Cum for me…. Don’t forget to… say my name…”

And you do so as your walls flutter and cream around his cock. He keeps pounding into you chasing his own release, your insides are on fire. Finally, the forceful thrusts turn into ruts, his teeth dig into your shoulder as he comes. He bullies his cock into you milking it dry while riding his high, and you hear your name in between the groans leaving his agape mouth. He pulls out and drops next to you. you feel your mixed juices gushing out, soaking the sheets.

He props up on his elbow, his other hand caressing your cheek. “I hope I wasn’t too harsh. You did so well baby.” he says and then leans in to kiss your forehead.

“No, it was great… thank you.” you cup his face and give him a sweet lingering kiss.

You need to get up and clean up, but something about this moment is so pure you don’t wanna disturb it. So, instead, you hug his head, pressing it to your chest. He wraps his arms around you and snuggles closer, leaving no gap between the two of you. You grab a blanket you can reach and cover your sticky bodies.

 You watch the sky grow lighter as your fingers play with his soft locks. Your slightly ajar window lets in the scent of rain mixed with something flowery, it’s jasmine you decide. Birds are chirping but his steady breathing is a far better melody to your ears. The cool breeze and his warmth are the perfect combination that eventually put you to sleep.

[dinodaweeb]

LIES, SPIES, AND HOT GUYS |

Gn!Detective!Reader x Batman

summary: as a detective you make sure you prioritize Bruce Wayne’s safety but he assures you he doesn’t need it, prick.

You never expected to find yourself at one of Gotham's most glamorous events—a gala at Wayne Manor. Awkward and out of place, you struggle to fit in among Gotham's elite.

The moment you stepped into Wayne Manor, you felt like a fish out of water. The grand chandeliers, the polished marble floors, and the glittering gowns of Gotham's elite were a far cry from the gritty crime scenes and dimly lit precincts you were used to.

Far different. The air felt too expensive to breathe.

Why had you even agreed to this?

Oh right, the Commissioner insisted on having "a few of Gotham's finest" at the event, just in case. And with your gruff demeanor and awkward social skills, you had drawn the short straw.

Awkwardly, you stood near a large ornate column, sipping a glass of water and trying to avoid eye contact with the crowd. Despite the suit and tie—or, in their case, a somewhat ill-fitting tuxedo—they felt utterly out of place. The pants felt too tight around your rear and you got this done at the shop. How could they screw that up?

Your eyes scanned the room, taking in every detail, searching for anything—or anyone—out of the ordinary.

Just as you were beginning to try to relax, you spotted a group of familiar faces. The Wayne kids—Dick Grayson, Tim Drake, Damian Wayne, and a few others—stood near the large windows, looking far too at ease in the luxurious setting.

Summoning a bit of courage, you approached them. After all, if they were going to be stuck here, they might as well make some polite conversation.

"Grayson, Drake," You greeted with a nod, trying to sound casual but polite.

Dick smiled brightly. "Detective! Didn't expect to see you here!"

"Yeah, well… duty calls, I wasn’t exactly invited by you but..” You muttered, feeling a bit more self-conscious than you intended. Tim gave a small nod of acknowledgment, while Damian looked as uninterested as ever.

Why do you even try at this.

Before the conversation could go further, a familiar voice cut through the air.

"Detective, welcome to Wayne Manor."

You turned to see Bruce Wayne approaching, his signature charming smile firmly in place. The billionaire looked every bit the part, effortlessly exuding wealth and charisma.

His looks lived up to the legend, pretty punk.

"Mr. Wayne," You greeted, doing their best to mask their awkwardness. Which probably failed. "Thanks for having me.”

"Of course. I always appreciate Gotham's finest keeping an eye on things," Bruce replied, his tone friendly yet distant. There was a glint in his eyes, something that set you on edge. Before they could respond, Bruce offered another smile, then excused himself, moving on to mingle with other guests.

You watched him go, your brows furrowing. Something about Bruce seemed… off. But before you could dwell on it, your attention snapped back to the task at hand: scanning the room for any potential threats.

As the evening wore on, you couldn't shake the feeling of unease. You kept a close eye on Bruce from across the room, noting how the billionaire seemed to glide through the crowd effortlessly, charming everyone he spoke to. But that nagging feeling in the back of your mind wouldn't go away.

And then it happened.

A loud crash echoed through the grand hall, followed by the panicked screams of guests. The doors burst open, and a group of armed robbers stormed in, weapons raised. Chaos erupted as people dove for cover, and the orchestra’s music was abruptly silenced.

"Everyone down! Now!" one of the robbers shouted, firing a warning shot into the ceiling.

Instinctively, you reached for their gun, but the crowd's panic made it impossible to get a clear shot. People were scrambling, pushing, and shouting. In the confusion, you caught sight of Bruce Wayne, who had been near the doors moments before. Now, he was nowhere to be seen.

Damn it!

You pushed through the crowd, your focus entirely on finding Bruce. If something happened to Gotham's golden boy on your watch, you would never forgive yourself.

Thankfully, you managed to slip away from the main hall, only to find Bruce backing into a nearby room, the door clicking shut just as you reached it. They shoved the door open and rushed inside, finding Bruce standing calmly by the window, looking far too composed for someone who was supposed to be terrified.

His fingers twitched when he heard the door open though, so maybe he was alarmed. You couldn’t blame him, it was a scary situation for anyone.

"Mr. Wayne, are you alright?" You panted, closing the door behind them and locking it.

Bruce turned to face them, an almost amused expression on his face. "I’m fine, Detective."

"Good. Stay here," You ordered, pulling out their gun and moving to stand between Bruce and the door. "I’ll handle this."

Bruce raised an eyebrow, a hint of a smirk tugging at his lips. "That won’t be necessary."

You frowned. "What do you mean it won’t be necessary? There are armed robbers out there! You need to stay put, or you could get hurt."

"I assure you, I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself," Bruce said, his tone calm and almost… teasing.

The detective’s frustration flared. Here you were, trying to protect this man, and he was acting like it was no big deal. "Look, I get that you’re used to getting your way, but right now, you need to let me do my job!"

Bruce’s eyes narrowed slightly, the playful glint fading. "And what if I told you that I could handle this situation better than you think?"

You were about to snap back, but the words died in their throat as they realized what Bruce was implying. "You’re not seriously thinking about playing hero, are you? This is my duty.”

Marching up to him, you poked your finger repeatedly into his chest.

“I’m here to protect you, Mr. Wayne.”

Before Bruce could respond, a loud bang echoed from the hallway, followed by heavy footsteps approaching the door. With precision, you pulled Bruce by the waist and forced him behind you. You stiffened, turning their full attention to the door. "Stay behind me."

"Detective—"

"I said stay behind me!" You hissed, cutting Bruce off as you aimed your gun at the door. Your heart pounded in your chest, adrenaline surging through your veins.

The door burst open, and you were ready to fire, but the figure that entered the room made them hesitate. It was Nightwing.

"Hold your fire!" Nightwing ordered, raising his hands as he stepped inside.

You lowered their weapon, exhaling a shaky breath. "What are you doing here?"

Nightwing glanced at Bruce, then back at you. A cheeky glint in his eyes. "I’m here to get him out of here.”

"Wait, you know him?" You asked, confused.

Nightwing’s lips curled into a half-smile. "You could say that."

Bruce stepped forward, placing a hand on your shoulder. "Thank you for your concern, Detective, but I’ll be safe with him."

You opened their mouth to argue, but the calm, assured look in Bruce’s eyes stopped them. For some reason, you believed him—despite how absurd it all seemed.

But did you seriously suck that much at your job that he felt safer with masked vigilante than a GCPD officer? You felt your pride shatter.

With a bitter taste in your mouth and the slightest pout on your lips, you nodded. Giving Bruce a pat on the back.

Nightwing took Bruce by the arm, guiding him toward the door. "Come on, let’s get you somewhere safe."

You watched them go, their mind racing. None of this made sense. Why would Nightwing, of all people, be protecting Bruce Wayne? And why did Bruce seem so… unconcerned?

As the door closed behind them, You finally allowed yourself to breathe. The realization hit you like a freight train: Batman was out there, hunting these criminals, and Bruce Wayne was likely his next target.

"Idiot," You muttered to yourself, rubbing your temples. "Of course, Batman would want to protect him."

Then you felt your heart sink.

“Or harm him.”

But deep down, you couldn’t shake the feeling that there was more to Bruce Wayne than met the eye. Something you couldn’t quite put you're finger on.

As you exited the room, ready to join the fight outside, you couldn’t help but wonder: Just who exactly was Bruce Wayne? And why did they feel like they were in way over their head?

One thing was for sure: you were going to find out.

And when you did, you had a feeling it would change everything.

Red Hood stopped your inner monologue. “Yo, Hey, Dude— C’mon. Snap out of it.”

You blinked, your eyes reaching up.

“Now, are you going to stand there looking like a rookie, or are you going to help me with these goons?”

You snapped out of your thoughts, turning to see Red Hood leaning casually against the doorframe, his helmet tilted slightly as if amused by your daze. You cursed inwardly—first Nightwing, now Red Hood. How many of Gotham’s vigilantes were going to show up tonight?

“You’re here too?” you asked, exasperated.

“Yeah, and lucky for you. Looks like you could use the backup,”

Red Hood quipped, pushing off the doorframe and stepping into the room. “Now, are we gonna take these guys down, or do you need a minute to process whatever conspiracy theories you’re cooking up?”

You shot him a glare but nodded. “Fine. Let’s get this over with.”

Red Hood grinned beneath his helmet, drawing his guns. “Hell yeah.”

a/n: guys, asks r open :3 I wanna write more for my boysss 🫶😔 (no cursed shit plz)

[ssa-dado]

9 - Folie à Deux

Aaron Hotchner x bau!fem!reader Genre: fluff, slow burn, so much tension it hurts. Summary: After being called to Houston to solve a gruesome case involving a dancing, folie à deux couple, you and Hotch are forced to go undercover, posing as a couple at a dance event. The operation brings you closer, revealing unspoken emotions as you navigate dangerous waters both on and off the dance floor. Back at Quantico, a matchmaking mission further blur the lines between partners, friends, and something more, solidifying your unique bond. Warnings: The case in this one is very graphic! Mentions of blood. Word Count: 14.1 k - I know, but trust me on this one Dado's Corner: My job with this one was simply to make your heart flutter, and I hope I’ve succeeded. I’m especially proud of this chapter (I secretly titled it “the ovulation chapter.” in my drafts). Unintentionally, it also works as a stand-alone one-shot. Consider this a small treat for all the suffering you’ve endured so far. Please comment and let me know what you think!

previous chapter ; masterlist

A few months had slipped by since you had finally admitted to yourself that you had a crush on Aaron Hotchner - your stoic, impossibly composed coworker but also your unexpectedly humorous friend. Accepting it didn’t make it any easier, though; it only sharpened your awareness of him, turning every stolen glance and fleeting smile into a secret thrill you could never quite tame.

His voice, deep and steady, lingered in your mind long after meetings ended, and every accidental brush of his hand felt electric, sending your heart racing in ways you couldn’t control. You found yourself memorizing the little things: the way his brow furrowed in concentration, the rare warmth of his smile that made the room feel lighter, and the quiet strength he carried that drew you in without trying. Working alongside him became a careful balancing act, a daily routine of holding back when all you wanted was to lean closer, to let your feelings spill out in ways that terrified and thrilled you all at once.

That day especially felt different, it wasn’t just any morning at the BAU; it was the day Hotch would owe you his 200th coffee - a milestone you had secretly been counting down to with a mix of excitement and fondness. What had started as a friendly wager between two competitive colleagues had evolved into a cherished ritual of ‘ constantly reminding you of your failures’, a small but meaningful connection that gave you an excuse to be near him, to share something uniquely yours in the chaos of your demanding jobs.

You stopped by your usual coffee shop on the way to work, picking up two cups of your favorite blend to mark the occasion. And because you couldn’t resist, you brought along the book you’d bought for him months ago but didn’t have enough courage yet to hand him due to the reminders of the dreaded night at Peter’s welcome back party - Hegel for Dummies. You couldn’t wait to see his reaction. Every detail, every inside joke felt like a small victory in your ongoing, unacknowledged crush on him.

As you walked into the bullpen, the morning light was filtering through the windows, casting a soft, golden glow over the quiet office. The light caught Hotch just right, illuminating him like some kind of ethereal portrait, and for a moment, you couldn’t help but marvel at the sight. He was sitting at his desk, engrossed in a stack of case files, the crease between his brows deepening with concentration.

His hair, usually so meticulously combed back, was already starting to rebel, a few strands falling loose and grazing his forehead in a way that made your heart skip. You loved how those little imperfections softened his usually sharp, composed appearance, making him look a touch more human, a little less like the untouchable rising star agent and more like the man you admired.

His eyes, a deep, rich brown that turned to liquid gold when the sunlight hit them just right, glanced up from his work as you approached. The way he looked at you, warm and attentive, made your breath catch. Those eyes, so often serious and guarded, held a softness that in your delusional mind he seemed to reserve just for you. It was like he saw you, really saw you, in a way that only a few else did, and that small, silent acknowledgment never failed to make your heart flutter.

“Good morning, partner,” Hotch greeted, his voice low and rich. It was a voice that always wrapped around you, grounding you in a way you couldn’t quite explain. The way he said “partner” felt special, loaded with a meaning you were too afraid to fully unpack.

“Good morning,” you replied, setting the coffees and the book down on his desk with a playful smile. “Today’s a special day, so I thought we’d celebrate.”

Hotch’s eyebrow quirked, his mouth curving into a teasing half-smile that made your stomach flip. God, you lived for that smile. It was so rare, so fleeting, and every time you saw it, it felt like a personal victory. “Special day? What did I forget?”

You rolled your eyes, biting back a grin as you watched the subtle play of emotions on his face - curiosity, amusement, that faint twinkle of mischief that always caught you off guard. “Come on, Hotch. Today’s the 200th coffee you owe me. Two hundred times you’ve somehow managed to beat me at this ridiculous game, and I’m starting to think you have a secret strategy you’re not sharing.”

He chuckled softly, a sound that was low and quiet, but so genuine that it made your chest tighten. There was something about the way his face softened in those moments that made you want to memorize every line, every subtle shift. “I’ve been wondering when you’d bring that up,” he said, his voice laced with that familiar, dry humor you adored. “At this rate, you’ll owe me another 200 before you even come close to winning.”

The banter between you was effortless, filled with a warmth that made every exchange feel like a private little world the two of you inhabited. You leaned against your desk, studying him like you always did - quietly, reverently, as if each glance was a stolen moment.

There were so many things you loved about Aaron Hotchner, so many small details that made your crush feel like a living, breathing thing. The way his tie was just slightly askew, hinting at the frantic rush of his morning. The way his hands moved as he spoke, precise and deliberate, fingers that always seemed to know exactly what to do, whether they were flipping through case files or adjusting the cuffs of his perfectly pressed shirt.

“You know, by now, you owe me more than $200 worth of coffee,” you teased, unable to suppress the smile tugging at your lips. “I think it’s about time you start paying up.”

Hotch’s eyes gleamed with that playful challenge you loved, the one that said he was always three steps ahead but still enjoyed every second of sparring with you. “Only if you can actually manage to win, which -let’s be honest - could take you an eternity. A philosopher I know once told me the story of Achilles and a turtle”

The lighthearted exchange was cut short when something on your desk caught your eye: a small, neatly wrapped box nestled under your lamp. It was a simple package, wrapped with an almost meticulous care, and you felt a surge of curiosity as you picked it up.

Hotch watched you, his expression softening, as you carefully unwrapped the box, revealing a sleek, elegant gel pen - the same kind he used religiously, except this one had a small “200” engraved near the clip.

Your heart skipped a beat, the significance of the gift hitting you like a tidal wave. It was just a pen, but it was also so much more than that: thoughtful, personal, and unmistakably him. You held it delicately, almost reverently, as if it were a secret you weren’t quite ready to share with the world.

Before you could find the words, Hotch spoke, his voice gentler than usual, tinged with that rare, intimate tone he reserved for moments like this. “I know Gideon never remembers anniversaries,” he began, his eyes flickering with the inside joke you shared, “but I’m not Gideon. And this is my promise that you won’t ever have to storm around like Rossi did on our first case together.”

It was such a simple statement, but the way he said it, so earnest and sincere, made your throat tighten. You couldn’t help but focus on the way his mouth moved, the slight pull of his lips that revealed just the faintest hint of dimples when he smiled. “Hotch, this… it’s perfect. You didn’t have to do this.”

He shrugged, effortlessly brushing off your gratitude in that casual, understated way that always made your heart ache. "I wanted to. It's my favorite kind of pen, and I thought you should have one too. The only difference is the ink color," he added, a teasing smile tugging at his lips. "I've noticed you always use blue... a bit of an unusual choice, but hey, if it works for you."

You couldn’t stop staring at him, your chest fluttering at the way he noticed your quirks and habits. His attention to detail, his thoughtfulness, made you feel seen in a way that was both exhilarating and terrifying. It was as if he’d quietly gathered the pieces of you - those you tried to keep hidden and the small, silly traits that made you who you were - and somehow found them all worth celebrating.

“Thank you,” you managed, your voice barely more than a whisper. “I don’t know what I’d do without you, Hotch. You’re… you’re the best partner I could ever ask for.”

He smiled, that small, almost imperceptible curve of his lips that felt like a reward, and it made your heart soar. He leaned back, crossing his arms in that familiar, confident way that somehow made him look both commanding and completely approachable. “I could say the same about you,” he said, his voice carrying that rare sincerity that made you feel special. “Though I’m still waiting for the day you actually beat me.”

You laughed softly, your gaze locked on his. “This is so thoughtful, it almost makes me want to kiss you on the cheek… if you weren’t so against physical contact, of course.”

Hotch’s smile turned mischievous, a rare twinkle lighting up his eyes that made your heart flutter uncontrollably. “Well, unlike Rossi and Gideon, we’re not married, yet.”

Though it was meant as a joke, it felt layered with something deeper, like a hidden promise disguised as banter. “Yet?! Are you planning on proposing? Because after all this thoughtfulness, you just might get a yes out of me,” you teased, your tone playful, even as your heart raced with the weight of your own words.

Hotch’s gaze lingered, his expression softening into something almost vulnerable. “I’ll make you another ‘lawyer’ deal,” he said, leaning forward, his voice dropping to that low, intimate register that made your skin tingle. “I’ll propose by the time I owe you a thousand cups of coffee. So, you’d better start winning, or you might just be stuck with me forever.”

The words were light, meant to tease, but there was a sincerity in his gaze that made your breath hitch. Your heart pounded, the beat echoing in your ears as you tried to think of a witty retort, but all you could focus on was the way his eyes lingered on you, the faint curve of his lips, the way his presence filled the space between you.

“Be careful what you wish for,” you managed to say, your voice wavering slightly despite your best efforts to sound composed. “You know that if you give me a deal like that, I won’t be able to help but accept.”

Hotch’s smile softened, and for a split second, his expression was almost tender, a quiet vulnerability that he rarely allowed himself to show. “Forever,” he murmured, as if testing the weight of the word, as if it were something fragile and precious.

“You’re a lawyer, Hotch,” you teased, though your voice was softer now, tinged with something you couldn’t quite name. “You should know better than anyone that divorces exist.”

Hotch’s gaze held yours, steady and intense, the faintest hint of a smile playing at his lips. “Forever,” he echoed softly, the word hanging in the air like a quiet dare.

You tucked the pen into your pocket, feeling its weight like a promise, a small, tangible reminder of the connection you shared, the quiet care that threaded through every interaction.

As Hotch turned back to his files, the brief flicker of vulnerability and humor slipping into the familiar stoic composure he reserved for work, your thoughts couldn’t help but drift to that thousandth day. A small, impossible hope lingered in the back of your mind, quietly daring to imagine what might happen when that moment finally came.

☐ ⬛

“Well, if it isn’t my two favorite night-owls gracing me with their presence,” Rossi greeted, his voice carrying its usual mischief as he glanced up at you and Hotch. “Hope you’re ready to pack up, we’ve got a situation in Houston. Local police just found a second victim, and it looks like this one’s escalating fast.”

There was no hesitation. Within hours, you, Hotch, Gideon, and Rossi were on a train bound for Houston, the rhythmic clatter of the wheels on the tracks a relentless echo of the urgency ahead. The details of the case gnawed at your mind, filling the air with a heavy dread that clung to you like a second skin. This wasn’t just another case, it was darker, more depraved than anything you’d encountered in recent memory. Two victims in two weeks, seemingly random but bound by the sheer, almost ritualistic brutality of their deaths.

The first victim, Lauren Fields, a 21-year-old English literature student with bright eyes and a future full of promise, had been found hanging from the ceiling of a derelict warehouse. But it wasn’t just the fact that she was dead, it was how she had been killed.

Her body was marred by deep, deliberate cuts, as though the unsub had taken their time, savoring the act. He had let her bleed out slowly, cruelly drawing out her final moments. The scene was a nightmare of gore: blood sprayed across the walls, congealed in thick pools on the floor, smeared in what almost seemed like purposeful patterns. The blood on the floor told a grim story of its own, scattered in ways that suggested not just violence, but movement.

The second victim, Eric Watts, a 36-year-old plumber, had been found in much the same state. Another warehouse, another scene of calculated carnage. His body hung from the ceiling, suspended like a grotesque puppet, slashed with the same cold precision. His blood had pooled beneath him, the same sickening patterns left behind, as if the killers found joy in the desecration of human life.

There were no obvious connections between Lauren and Eric: no shared history, no common threads, but the horror they endured bound them together. The only connection was the sheer sadism behind their deaths, the terrifying reality of what they had suffered.

When you and Hotch arrived at the latest crime scene, the atmosphere was suffocating, the heavy stench of decay mixing with something far more sinister - a creeping, invisible darkness that seemed to pulse from the walls and seep into your bones. The warehouse was cold and damp, every step echoing in the cavernous space, amplifying the feeling of dread that settled under your skin. The scene before you was like stepping into a nightmare: blood was smeared across every surface, splattered like a grotesque and violent artwork that told the story of terror in a language only the twisted could understand.

The victim’s body still hung from the ceiling, pale and lifeless, suspended like a gruesome puppet left to rot. The stark contrast of crimson against the cold concrete created a macabre impressionist masterpiece, each streak and spatter of blood capturing the chaos and suffering of the final moments.

But it was the floor that truly made the scene unbearable: bloody footprints crisscrossed the entire space, overlapping and swirling in erratic patterns, turning the ground into a nightmarish dance floor painted in red. It wasn’t just the sight of the blood; it was the story those prints told, a sickening ballet of violence and madness performed by the killers who saw their victims as props in a twisted dance of death.

Hotch moved through the scene with his usual composed intensity, every step deliberate, every glance calculated. He had a way of grounding you even in the most horrifying moments, his presence a constant reminder that you weren’t alone in facing this darkness.

You watched him closely as he crouched near the center of the room, his dark eyes scanning the bloody prints with the kind of focused calm that never wavered. There was something impossibly magnetic about his concentration, how he could look at chaos and find the patterns hidden within it. It was reassuring, and you couldn’t help but feel even more attracted by him every time you watched him work.

Hotch leaned in closer, tracing the jagged, uneven edges of the footprints with the tip of his pen, his expression hardening as he took in every detail. “There are two sets of footprints,” he observed, his voice steady and sure, cutting through the suffocating silence. “One left by a man, the other by a woman.” His focus was absolute, as if he were piecing together a puzzle only he could see.

You stepped closer, feeling the coolness of the blood-slicked floor through your shoes, the sticky sensation almost making you shudder. As you looked down at the prints, your mind raced, trying to make sense of the bizarre choreography. The shapes and patterns were hypnotic against the blood-stained concrete, swirling and merging in ways that felt oddly deliberate, almost purposeful.

You could feel Hotch beside you, his presence a steady anchor amid this violent tableau, and you leaned into that unspoken support, drawing strength from his calm.

“They’re not just walking around,” you said softly, your voice almost lost in the vast emptiness of the warehouse. The realization struck you suddenly, sharp and undeniable. “It’s almost like they’re dancing.” The prints weren’t just random; they moved in loops, turns, and steps that followed no logical path but instead mirrored something more fluid, more rhythmic. It was as if the unsubs were performing, dancing in the blood of their victim as they died above them.

Hotch’s head snapped up, his eyes meeting yours in an intense, electrifying moment of shared understanding. You could see the same chilling realization dawning in his expression, the pieces clicking into place with a horrifying clarity. You were both thinking the same thing, and when you spoke, the words tumbled out in perfect, uncanny sync: “It’s a folie à deux.”

Folie à deux - madness shared by two. The way the killers had moved around their victims, the sickening dance in their own blood, it all pointed to a couple lost in their own twisted world, feeding off each other’s delusions.

Hotch’s gaze lingered on yours, his expression a mixture of determination and something deeper, something that mirrored your own emotions, an unspoken acknowledgment of the darkness you were about to face.

The air between you felt charged, every breath heavy with the weight of what you had uncovered. In that brief moment, you felt a rush of warmth that cut through the chill of the crime scene, a reassurance that whatever horrors lay ahead, you would face them together, side by side.

You turned your attention back to the scene, but the connection lingered, a silent promise that neither of you had to say aloud. This wasn’t just about catching killers; it was about understanding the twisted minds that had found solace in each other’s madness.

☐ ⬛

Back at the police station, the atmosphere was tense, the air thick with the urgency of finding a connection that seemed maddeningly out of reach. The four of you were gathered around a large conference table, the crime scene photos spread out like pieces of a jigsaw puzzle that refused to fit together.

You watched as Hotch leaned forward, elbows on the table, eyes fixed on the images before him. You couldn’t help but steal glances at him, admiring the way his brow furrowed in concentration, the way he absentmindedly tapped his pen against the table, little quirks you had memorized in the quiet moments between the chaos.

“They have no connection,” Rossi said, frustration evident as he flipped through the victim profiles. “One’s a student, the other’s a plumber. Different neighborhoods, different circles. There’s nothing that ties them together.”

Gideon nodded, his usually sharp eyes clouded with concern. “Lauren was outgoing, well-liked in her classes, no known enemies. Eric kept to himself, lived alone. They were single, no significant relationships that would tie them together. No overlap, no common link.”

You studied the crime scene photos, trying to piece together the senseless brutality into something that made even a fragment of sense. The killers weren’t just murdering—they were performing, re-enacting something deeply personal.

A thought struck you, a theory that felt like it was teetering on the edge of insanity, but you couldn’t shake it. “Maybe the connection isn’t between the victims,” you said slowly, your voice trembling slightly as you spoke. “Maybe it’s about the killers. They’re choosing substitutes, victims that represent something to them. They’re killing themselves over and over, using these people as stand-ins. It’s the only way they can keep their bond alive.”

Hotch leaned back, his gaze fixed on you, piecing together the fragments of the theory you’d just laid out. There was something about the way he looked at you - sharp, attentive, and with a hint of pride that sent warmth flooding through you. “If that’s the case,” he said thoughtfully, “then the unsubs must have a significant age difference. At least ten years, maybe more. One victim is young, the other is older, they’re acting out their issues, punishing each other through these surrogates.”

Gideon’s expression tightened, urgency pressing down on him. “But now we’re running out of time. The pattern is clear: they’ve killed one victim every Friday. Today is Thursday. If we don’t catch them soon, we’ll be looking at another body tomorrow.”

Silence filled the room, heavy with the weight of the ticking clock. The profile was solidifying, but you were still searching for that key piece that would lead you to the unsubs before they struck again.

Rossi tapped his pen against the table, drawing everyone’s attention. “They’re not picking these people at random. The way they kill, it’s theatrical, ritualistic. It’s personal. It’s like they’re putting on a show for each other.”

You pointed to the photos of the bloody footprints, the twisted dance steps that had been burned into your mind since you’d first seen them. “The dance. The way they move around the bodies - it’s coordinated, like a rehearsed routine. Both victims had connections to dance events in the city. Lauren was part of an improv dance group, and Eric attended open dance nights with his niece. They’re targeting couples who, in some way, remind them of themselves.”

Hotch nodded, the pieces clicking into place. “The unsubs are drawn to these events. They’re either participants or observers, targeting couples who challenge their twisted ideas of love and connection.”

Gideon and Rossi exchanged knowing looks, their expressions shifting from grim determination to something almost playful. There was a hint of amusement in their eyes, a rare break from the tension as they turned their attention back to you and Hotch.

“You know what that means,” Gideon said, his tone laced with a sly undertone that hinted at more than just strategy. “We need someone who can really get under their skin, challenge their so-called ‘love.’”

Rossi leaned back in his chair, a smirk spreading across his face as he glanced between you and Hotch. “And who better than the two of you? You fit the victimology like a glove - twelve years apart, just like their preferred targets. Plus,” he added, his voice dripping with mischief, “you two have pulled enough late-night sessions over case files. Now you get to do something a little more… interactive.”

He gave a wink, clearly enjoying the irony, and you could practically feel the teasing energy radiating off him. It was all too clear that Rossi and Gideon were having far too much fun at your expense. They knew exactly what they were doing, and the thought of you and Hotch going undercover as a couple was like handing them a golden opportunity to poke at both of you.

They didn’t just see partners, they saw the unspoken chemistry, the way you worked together like a well-oiled machine, and they weren’t going to miss the chance to play matchmaker, even if it was in the guise of catching killers.

Rossi’s grin widened as he saw the look on your face, and you could tell he was reveling in every second of this. “It’s fate,” he said with a chuckle, barely able to contain his amusement. “Out of all the things you two have faced, this might be your greatest challenge yet.”

Gideon nodded, barely suppressing his own smile. “So, go on. Pack your dance shoes. Time to see if you can keep up with the unsubs.”

The suggestion hit you like a freight train, sending your thoughts spiraling. The idea of going undercover as a couple with Hotch was equal parts thrilling and terrifying. It wasn’t just about pretending, it was about pretending with him.

Every time you looked at him, you felt the undeniable pull of your own feelings, the crush that you’d tried so hard to keep hidden, now bubbling dangerously close to the surface. Being this close to him, touching him, dancing with him… it was everything you wanted and everything you were afraid to confront.

Hotch caught your eye, a small, almost teasing smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “Out of all the things I signed up for when I joined the Bureau,” he said, his voice edged with humor, “I never thought I’d end up dancing.”

You tried to suppress the nerves fluttering in your chest, forcing a playful smile in return. “Be careful what you wish for, Hotch. Remember the deal you made back in Quantico? That you’d propose when you owed me a thousand cups of coffee? Well, here we are—on our anniversary, rehearsing for what could be our first dance.”

Hotch chuckled, his smile widening, eyes twinkling with mischief. “Guess we’re ahead of schedule, then. I might have to get that ring ready sooner than I thought.”

You both laughed, but beneath the banter, there was a flutter of something real, something that made your heart skip. The weight of your joke hung between you, laced with the kind of unspoken longing that you’d been trying to ignore for far too long. If only he knew how much you wished those playful words were true.

☐ ⬛

Later, back at the hotel, you found yourself in the lobby, staring down at the dance steps outlined in the file Gideon had handed you. It was a romantic routine: timeless, intimate, and designed to draw attention. As you studied the sequence, you felt Hotch approach, his presence warm and grounding.

You looked up to find him leaning casually against the wall, jacket draped over his shoulder, his sleeves rolled up to reveal the strong lines of his forearms. You couldn’t help but notice how his hair was starting to fall loose, framing his face in a way that made him look almost boyish, at how he was effortlessly handsome.

“You ready for this?” Hotch asked, his voice a low, comforting rumble. There was a lightness in his tone, but you could see the hint of nerves in his eyes. It was oddly reassuring to know that he was feeling the same strange mix of anticipation and anxiety that you were.

You shrugged, trying to keep your voice steady. “The Bureau never prepared me for undercover ballroom dancing. I think the last time I slow danced, I tripped over my own feet more times than I care to admit.”

Hotch’s laugh was warm, genuine, and it sent a ripple of something achingly sweet through you. “Well, it’s not exactly standard training. But you’ve got rhythm, you’ll pick it up. And hey, if we can survive a shootout together, we can handle a dance floor.”

You arched an eyebrow, teasing. “I’m starting to think you’ve been hiding some secret dance skills. Were you secretly moonlighting as a dance instructor?”

He shook his head, grinning. “Not quite. But I did take a few lessons back in college. Thought it’d be a good way to meet people. I was terrible at first - tripped over my own feet more times than I’d like to admit.”

You laughed, the image of a younger, awkward Hotch struggling through a dance class making you smile. There was something endearing about the thought, something that made you feel like you were seeing a part of him that few ever got to see.

Hotch extended his hand, his eyes meeting yours with a gentle challenge. “Ready to give it a shot?”

You took his hand, the touch of his skin sending a rush of warmth up your arm. “Not even one bit.”

The song Gideon and Rossi chose for the two of you was ‘It’s All Coming Back To Me Now’ by Celine Dion. The music began, soft and slow, filling the lobby with a melody that felt both timeless and intimate. As you moved together, each step felt like a tentative exploration of something more than just a dance.

Hotch’s hand on your waist, the subtle strength in his hold, the way his eyes never left yours, it was all so much more than you’d expected, and you couldn’t help but feel the weight of every unspoken feeling between you.

“Careful,” Hotch teased as you stumbled slightly, catching you effortlessly. “Can’t have you falling for me on the dance floor.”

You shot him a playful glare, your cheeks burning with the double meaning behind his words. “If I do, it’s entirely your fault.”

Hotch’s smile softened, his thumb brushing against your hand as you continued to move in sync. “I’ll take full responsibility.”

The song played on, each step bringing you closer, each touch making it harder to ignore the truth you’d been hiding. Dancing with Hotch felt like stepping into a dream you didn’t want to wake from, a dangerous, beautiful dance where every move whispered of what could be, if only you were brave enough to reach for it.

As the song ended, Hotch pulled you close, his voice low and teasing. “Guess we really are rehearsing for our first dance.”

You laughed, trying to ignore the way your heart pounded in your chest. “Yeah, and just think, you’ve still got 800 coffees to go before you have to propose.”

He smirked, a twinkle in his eyes. “Better get to work beating me, then. I’m not planning on waiting forever.”

The words hung between you, playful yet laced with an unspoken promise. You knew it was just banter, just another layer of the teasing that had become so natural between you. But standing there, wrapped in the lingering closeness of the dance, it felt like so much more.

You stepped back slightly, breaking the intimate proximity but not the connection that buzzed between you. Hotch’s hand lingered at your waist for a second longer than necessary, and you felt the warmth of his touch sear through the fabric of your blouse, leaving a ghost of a feeling that you knew you’d carry long after this moment was over.

The silence stretched, not awkward but charged, both of you caught in a rare moment of vulnerability. Hotch’s gaze remained fixed on you, his dark eyes searching yours as if trying to read the unspoken words that hovered just out of reach. For a moment, you thought he might say something, something real, something that would bring down the walls you’d both so carefully built. But instead, he broke the tension with a soft, knowing smile.

“You did good,” he said, his voice a low, comforting murmur that sent a thrill down your spine. “I think we’ve got this.”

You nodded, trying to muster your usual bravado even as your heart thudded in your chest. “Yeah, well, it’s not every day I get to dance with a lawyer. I’d say that’s worth at least a few points in my favor.”

Hotch chuckled, a sound that was all warmth and affection, and you couldn’t help but bask in it, soaking up every second. “Just remember, you’ve still got a long way to go before you catch up. But I’ll admit,” he said, tilting his head with a playful glint, “you’re getting closer.”

The lightness of his words belied the heaviness in your chest, the way your feelings for him felt like a secret you could no longer keep hidden. You wanted to say more, to let him know just how much these moments with him meant to you, how every joke and every stolen glance was a lifeline amid the chaos.

But you couldn’t bring yourself to risk the delicate balance of your partnership, the friendship that had grown into something far more complex than you’d ever imagined.

Instead, you settled for a smile, one that you hoped conveyed at least a fraction of what you felt. “I’ll take that as a compliment, Hotch. And who knows, by the time we hit a thousand coffees, maybe I’ll have you dancing circles around me.”

Hotch’s smile turned softer, almost wistful, and for a fleeting second, you thought you saw a flicker of something more in his eyes, something that mirrored the quiet longing you carried for him every day. “Maybe,” he said, his voice tinged with a kind of quiet sincerity that made your heart ache. “But if you ask me, you’re already leading the way.”  

The moment passed, but the unspoken sentiment lingered between you, a promise wrapped in uncertainty, an almost that hung just out of reach. As Hotch turned back to the files spread out on the table, his focus already shifting back to the task at hand, you couldn’t help but steal one last glance, committing every detail of this moment to memory. It was hard not to get lost in the fantasy of it, to imagine that maybe you and Hotch were dancing for yourselves, not just to catch a pair of killers.

Because even if it was just banter, just a playful dance of words and what-ifs, it was enough.

For now, it was enough to be by his side, to share the weight of the cases and the late nights and the stolen moments of something that felt almost like happiness.

For now, you’d keep dancing around the truth, holding onto the hope that someday, the steps would lead you to something more.

☐ ⬛

The atmosphere in your accommodation felt charged with an energy that was hard to ignore. You and Hotch had just finished a long day of preparation, your bodies still buzzing from the adrenaline of the evening.

This was the first time you had shared a room with him since you realized your feelings for him had deepened into something more, and you were painfully aware of the tension that hung in the air.

You were both drenched in the aftereffects of your undercover mission. The dance had felt so intimate, so dangerously close, and now you found yourself grappling with those emotions in a more personal setting. The idea of showering was both a relief and a distraction, a way to wash away the sweat and tension from the evening.

As you stepped beside the bathroom, you couldn’t shake the feeling that the moment was significant, that it marked a turning point between you and Hotch. You had shared hotel rooms on countless occasions, but this felt different. This time, there was an awareness, a hint of vulnerability that made your heart race.

“Do you want to go first?” Hotch asked, ever the gentleman, as he leaned against the wall, arms crossed over his chest. You nodded, grateful for the moment to gather your thoughts, to shake off the lingering tension of the evening.

After your shower, you dried your hair and slipped into a comfortable shirt and your usual pajama shorts, taking a deep breath before reentering the main room. As you emerged, you found Hotch sprawled out on the bed, a bemused expression on his face as he flipped through the pages of the book you had given him, Hegel for Dummies.

You couldn’t help but laugh, the sight of him attempting to wrestle with philosophical concepts a delightful surprise. “Look at you, and I thought I was the official philosopher of our duo,” you teased, crossing your arms and leaning against the doorframe. “I never thought I’d see you actually reading a book about philosophy. I was sure you were too serious for ‘Hegel for Dummies’.” you emphasized the word “dummies” with a smirk, savoring the rare chance to poke fun at his usually serious demeanor.

Hotch glanced up, his dark eyes twinkling with a rare spark of amusement. “What can I say? I’m already feeling a bit wiser,” he replied with a dry smile. “But hey, who wouldn’t want their mind expanded by ‘Hegel for Dummies’?” He emphasized the word with a smirk, playing right into your joke. “Though, I’ll admit, this wasn’t exactly how I envisioned unwinding after a long day on the job.”

“Just promise me you won’t start quoting him at me,” you said, dropping into the chair opposite him with a playful grin. “I’m not exactly in the mood to have my brain twisted around philosophical notions of love and duty - especially not whatever version of that ‘Hegel for Dummies’ is peddling. That sounds like a headache waiting to happen, that could get overly-simplified.”

Hotch stood up and stretched, his muscles flexing beneath his shirt as it rode up slightly, revealing a teasing glimpse of the firm, toned skin at his waist. You caught yourself staring, heat flooding your cheeks as you quickly looked away, caught between admiration and a surge of embarrassment.

“I’ll do my best to keep the heavy philosophy to a minimum,” he said, his voice low and slightly teasing as he moved toward the bathroom. “But I can’t promise I won’t slip up.” The way he glanced back at you, a subtle challenge in his eyes, left you feeling a little breathless, as if his words were more than just about Hegel for Dummies. 

As he stepped into the bathroom to shower, you couldn’t help but stare at the closed door, the lingering warmth of his presence still in the air. It was a mix of nerves and excitement, and you were acutely aware of how much you wanted to cross that invisible line between partnership and something more.

When Hotch emerged from the bathroom, his hair was still damp and tousled, messy in a way that made him look effortlessly handsome. Droplets of water clung to his skin, trailing slowly down his neck and disappearing beneath the collar of his shirt, drawing your eyes to the strong lines of his throat and the hint of muscle beneath. For a moment, your breath hitched, and time seemed to stretch as you took him in - disheveled, raw, and undeniably attractive.

He exuded a quiet confidence, his body a blend of strength and subtle elegance that was captivating, even in his exhaustion, you couldn’t tear your gaze away, admiring the man who, even at his most worn-down, was impossibly magnetic.

“Are you okay?” he asked, catching your gaze. His voice held a hint of concern, a gentle nudge back to reality.

You shook your head, trying to focus on the task at hand. “Yeah, just… lost in thought.” Your voice sounded distant even to you, the weight of everything lingering in the air. “Oh, and Peter just called. He’s in Los Angeles on a case, and he wanted to know if we’d be up for grabbing drinks when we get back.”

Hotch raised an eyebrow, concern and curiosity mingling in his gaze as he studied you closely. “Are you okay with that?” he asked gently, his voice softening with genuine care and a quiet, almost protective undertone. He hesitated, his eyes lingering on yours, as if trying to unravel the emotions you kept hidden just beneath the surface. “And what about the date you had with him? How did that go?”

You sighed, feeling the weight of the unspoken truth bubbling up before you could stop it. It wasn’t easy to admit, especially to Hotch, but something about his presence made it impossible to hold back. “Honestly, it just reinforced what I already knew,” you confessed, your voice tinged with a mix of frustration and resignation. “We’re compatible as friends, but when it comes to being a couple, there’s… something missing.”

Hotch leaned against the doorframe, his posture relaxed but his eyes locked onto yours with an intensity that made your heart race. His expression was open, his concern genuine, and it was clear that he wasn’t just asking to be polite; he wanted to understand. “Missing how?” he pressed, his voice low and full of quiet curiosity that pulled you in.

You hesitated, grappling with the vulnerability of sharing the deeper truth, a truth that you hadn’t even fully admitted to yourself. “I don’t know,” you said slowly, searching for the right words. “It’s like there’s no spark, no real connection that makes me feel… grounded. I keep trying to find this balance within myself, this sense of who I am and what I want, before I dive back into dating. With him, I just felt like I was going through the motions, hoping for something that wasn’t really there.”

You watched as Hotch absorbed your words, his expression shifting with a flicker of understanding. There was a look in his eyes that told you he got it, maybe more than anyone else ever could. “You’re being honest,” he said softly, his tone filled with quiet respect. “That’s important. And it sounds like you’re making the right choice, prioritizing what feels true to you instead of forcing something that doesn’t fit.”

A small smile tugged at your lips, warmth spreading through you at his validation. “Thanks,” you murmured, feeling the comfort of his support like a gentle embrace. But beneath your gratitude, there was a lingering ache, a nagging wish that you could tell him the other real reason you were so hesitant to start something new with anyone else. The truth was, it wasn’t just about finding balance within yourself, it was also about him.

Hotch studied you for a long moment, his gaze never wavering as if he were searching for something deeper, some hidden truth that you hadn’t yet found the courage to voice. “Just remember,” he said, his voice gentle and laced with a sincerity that made your heart flutter, “it’s okay to take your time. There’s no rush to figure it all out, and no rulebook you have to follow.”

His words were simple, but they carried a weight that hit you straight in the chest. Hotch wasn’t just talking about your reluctance to date; he was offering you the space to breathe, to heal, to find your way without pressure or judgment. It was the kind of reassurance you hadn’t realized you needed, and it made you feel seen in a way that was both comforting and terrifying.

You offered him a grateful smile, feeling a surge of affection for him that was impossible to ignore. “Thanks, Hotch. That means a lot,” you said softly, and you meant it more than he would ever know.

“And, by the way,” you added, trying to lighten the mood, “Even if you are the philosopher now, I don’t think you have to worry about being proposed to anytime soon.”

Hotch chuckled, his voice playful  “You never know. A thousand coffees and a philosophical debate might just seal the deal.”

You laughed, trying to shake off the weight of your feelings. “Well, I’ll just have to make sure I’m ready for that day, then.”

Hotch turned away, rummaging through his bag for a fresh shirt, and your eyes couldn’t help but follow the movement. As he pulled off his damp shirt, you caught a glimpse of the toned muscles in his back, the way they flexed subtly under his skin. The faint sheen of moisture made his skin glisten, his hair clinging damply to his forehead in a way that was both rugged and impossibly enticing. Your breath hitched, heart pounding as you watched him, captivated by the effortless grace of his movements.

You were drawn to him in ways that you could hardly admit, even to yourself. It wasn’t just his looks - though the sight of his broad shoulders and the curve of his spine definitely didn’t help your situation - it was everything he embodied. He was stability, strength, and an unwavering presence that grounded you even in the darkest moments. He was everything you craved, everything you told yourself you shouldn’t want, and yet here you were, heart racing and pulse quickening at just the sight of him.

You shifted on the bed, trying to focus on anything but him, but it was useless. Every movement he made drew your attention. The way he absentmindedly ran his hand through his wet hair, ruffling it in a way that left it messier than before. The subtle tilt of his head as he absorbed your words, genuinely invested in what you had to say. He made you feel seen, and that was more dangerous than any undercover mission.

“So,” Hotch said as he slipped his arms into his shirt, the fabric hugging his shoulders in a way that made your heart race, “do you ever regret it? Not… dating, but just how all of this can make things so complicated?”

You looked up, surprised by the question. The vulnerability in his tone caught you off guard, and for a moment, you didn’t know how to respond. “Honestly? Sometimes,” you admitted, your voice soft. “But I think it’s normal to feel that way. The job… it demands so much. And sometimes I wonder if it’s worth the trade-offs. But then I remember why I started, why I wanted this, and it keeps me going.”

Hotch nodded, his gaze distant as if he were sifting through his own set of regrets. “I get that,” he said quietly. “It’s easy to lose sight of things, to get caught up in the job and forget what you wanted in the first place.”

You swallowed, feeling the weight of his words settle over you. It was a rare, intimate glimpse into Aaron—the man beneath the stoic exterior, the version of himself he reserved only for moments like these, moments shared with you outside the rigid confines of work.

It was moments like this that made your feelings for him feel far deeper than a simple crush. It wasn’t just a fleeting infatuation; it was something profound, something that had quietly grown over time through every shared late night, every unspoken understanding, and every instance of mutual respect and unacknowledged care.

“Hotch,” you began, hesitating as you searched for the right words, “I don’t think I’ve ever told you, but… I really look up to you. You’re the reason I push myself every day. Because you set this standard that I want to live up to. Not just as an agent, but as a person.”

Hotch glanced at you, his eyes softening with a hint of something you couldn’t quite place. Gratitude? Affection? Whatever it was, it made your pulse quicken. “You don’t need to live up to anyone but yourself,” he said, his voice gentle but firm. “You’re… you’re better than you realize. And I’m glad to have you as my partner.”

The sincerity in his words settled over you like a warm blanket, soothing the frayed edges of your nerves. You wanted to say more, to tell him how much his opinion meant to you, but the lump in your throat made it impossible. So instead, you just nodded, hoping he understood the depth of your appreciation.

Hotch finished to dry his hair with the towel, and for a brief moment, you allowed yourself to imagine a different scenario. One where this wasn’t just another case, where you weren’t just colleagues sharing a hotel room for the sake of the job. You imagined lazy mornings, quiet dinners, and dances that were just for the two of you, moments untethered from the weight of your work.

“You know,” Hotch said, breaking the silence with a teasing smile, “for someone who’s supposedly my biggest competition, you’re pretty soft.”

You rolled your eyes, grateful for the lighthearted shift. “Don’t let it get to your head, Hotchner. I’m still gunning for that 1,000th coffee win, and when it happens, you’ll be the one stuck making breakfast every morning.”

He laughed, the sound rich and genuine, and it made your heart swell. “If that’s the price of losing, I think I can live with it.”

He sat down on the edge of his bed, picking up the book again, flipping through the pages as if searching for something to focus on. The sight of him engrossed in philosophy, his brow furrowed in concentration, was both endearing and a little surreal. You hadn’t expected him to take to the book so earnestly, but here he was, deep in thought, as if dissecting the nature of existence itself.

“Never pegged you as the type to dive into Hegel,” you teased lightly, hoping to steer your thoughts away from the yearning you were struggling to hide. “I thought you’d find it too abstract.”

Hotch glanced up, his smile small but genuine. ”Hegel for Dummies” he corrected you “Well, you did say it’d make me the official philosopher of the team. Besides, it’s… interesting. Challenging. A good distraction.”

“A distraction from what?” you asked, curious but careful, not wanting to pry too much.

Hotch hesitated, his eyes briefly clouding with something unspoken. “Just… life, I guess. It’s a lot easier to focus on someone else’s theories than to get lost in my own head sometimes.”

You nodded, understanding the sentiment more than you could say. “Guess we all need a distraction every now and then.”

He smiled at that, and for a moment, the room felt lighter, the heaviness of the day lifting just enough for you to breathe a little easier. Hotch stood up, stretching his arms up again, the hem of his shirt lifting slightly to reveal a glimpse of toned muscle beneath. You quickly averted your eyes, focusing on anything else, the artistry behind the pattern of the carpet, the flowers motives taking inspiration from 1800’s Art Nouveau… anything that wasn’t him.

Hotch caught your flustered expression and chuckled, the sound warm and unexpected. “If there’s something you want to say, you can just say it. I’m not a mind reader, you know.”

You fumbled for words, desperately trying to mask the fact that you’d been caught staring. “No, it’s nothing,” you stammered, your mind scrambling to come up with a quick distraction. “I was just thinking… once this case is over, maybe we should figure out a way to hand this undercover gig back to our two lovebirds. You know, let Rossi and Gideon get a taste of their own medicine. They’ve had way too much fun at our expense.”

Hotch paused, a mischievous smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “You mean like turning the tables on them?” he asked, his tone light but carrying a hint of something more devilish beneath it. “Maybe set them up with a little undercover operation of their own. I bet Gideon would look great in a dance ensemble.”

You laughed, enjoying the image of the two seasoned profilers stumbling through a dance routine. “Oh, definitely. Maybe we should get them to ‘rehearse’ with us. A little late-night surprise choreography. We could even record it, strictly for case review purposes, of course.”

Hotch’s eyes sparkled with amusement as he leaned in, clearly enjoying the idea. “We’ll make them pay for every smug look and every teasing comment. Let’s call it payback with a side of public humiliation.”

“Partners on the job, partners on the dancefloor, and partners in crime,” Hotch said, his voice laced with a mix of playful mischief and sincerity.

You grinned, feeling a rush of warmth at the thought of plotting with him. “The unholy trinity. They should have known better than to pair us up in the first place,” you said, savoring the moment.

Hotch’s expression softened slightly, his smile still lingering. “We would’ve found our way, no matter what,” he said, his voice laced with a quiet conviction that sent warmth flooding through you.

☐ ⬛

The next evening, the dance hall was alive with a soft, romantic glow, illuminated by chandeliers that cast a warm, golden light across the polished wooden floors. The air was filled with the soft murmur of conversations and the gentle strains of a live band playing in the corner.

Elegantly dressed couples moved gracefully around the room, their easy smiles and carefree movements masking the dark reality that lingered just beneath the surface. But for you and Hotch, this wasn’t just another night out, it was a hunt, and the dance floor was your stage.

Hotch was dressed in a tailored black suit that hugged his frame perfectly, exuding both authority and elegance. The crisp white shirt beneath his jacket added a touch of classic sophistication, but it was the open collar and the absence of his usual tie that gave him an air of relaxed charm that was rarely seen. His presence was magnetic, drawing eyes even in a room full of polished strangers.

You wore a sleek, simple white dress that softly hugged your curves, the fabric flowing with every step and catching the light as you moved. It was elegant yet daring, a statement piece that matched the confidence you needed to exude tonight. The neckline dipped just enough to be provocative without crossing the line, and the slit at your thigh gave you the freedom to dance with ease, a pair of dance heels completing the look.

Hotch’s hand rested lightly on your lower back as you entered the dance hall, his touch warm and firm, a silent reassurance that anchored you in the moment. You could feel the heat of his hand through the thin fabric of your dress, and every gentle press of his fingers sent a shiver up your spine that was impossible to ignore.

It was part of the cover, you reminded yourself, just an act to make you look the part. But every time he leaned in close, every whisper of his breath against your ear, it felt like so much more than that.

“Remember, stay close,” Hotch murmured, his lips brushing your ear as his voice rumbled low and intimate, almost sending a shiver straight to your core. “We need to blend in, keep it natural. And if you see anything—”

“Signal you,” you finished, your voice steady despite the pounding of your heart. You shot him a teasing smile, trying to mask the way his proximity made your pulse race. “I’ve got it. Just don’t step on my toes, okay?”

Hotch’s smile was quick and genuine, his eyes twinkling with a rare playfulness that made your breath catch. “No promises,” he said, his tone light but laced with the familiar seriousness of the job. “But I’ll try to keep the damage to a minimum.”

The music shifted, and the opening notes of “It’s All Coming Back to Me Now” filled the room, the familiar melody wrapping around you like a soft embrace. You took your places on the dance floor, and as Hotch’s hand found yours, a current of electricity passed between you. This was the routine you’d rehearsed endlessly, designed to lure the unsubs into revealing themselves. But as you stepped into the familiar movements, it felt like more than just a strategy.

Hotch’s grip on your waist was firm but gentle, guiding you effortlessly across the floor. His other hand clasped yours, fingers interlacing in a way that felt both intimate and natural, as if you’d done this a hundred times before – and actually you did last night.

Each step was precise, each turn fluid, but it wasn’t just the choreography that made your heart race, it was the way Hotch’s eyes never left yours, dark and intense, as if you were the only two people in the room. His movements were smooth, confident, and you couldn’t help but be drawn to the quiet strength that radiated from him.

With every spin, you felt the brush of his suit against your dress, the closeness of his body sending heat coursing through your veins. You were acutely aware of every touch, every shift in his posture as he pulled you closer, his breath mingling with yours in the space between.

The dance was supposed to be a lure, a means to an end, but in that moment, it was easy to forget the purpose behind it. It felt like an unspoken conversation, every movement a confession of the emotions simmering beneath the surface.

As Hotch twirled you around, your back pressed against his chest, the world seemed to narrow to the rhythm of the music and the warmth of his touch. For a brief, dizzying moment, you weren’t just undercover agents, you were two people lost in each other, sharing something that went beyond words.

He leaned in, his mouth hovering near your ear, his voice barely audible over the music. “You’re doing great,” he murmured, and the sincerity in his tone made your heart flutter. It wasn’t just praise; it was a reminder that he was with you, that you were in this together, not just on the dance floor but in everything.

As the song built to its powerful crescendo, you felt the weight of the room shift. Eyes were on you - some admiring, others envious, and two pairs watching with a chilling intensity. The unsubs had noticed you, just as you’d hoped. But in that moment, it was hard to remember that this was all a performance, that the heat between you and Hotch was supposed to be an act.

“Doing okay?” Hotch asked, his voice low and steady as he pulled you closer, his hand resting at the small of your back.

You nodded, meeting his gaze. “Yeah. I think we’ve got their attention.”

Sure enough, as you continued to dance, you noticed a couple standing off to the side, watching you with an unsettling intensity. The man was tall and rigid, his expression dark and brooding. The woman beside him was younger, with a delicate, almost ethereal appearance, her eyes flickering between you and Hotch with a mix of curiosity and thinly veiled hostility.

Hotch’s grip tightened ever so slightly, a silent signal that he’d seen them too. “They’re watching us,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. “Don’t make it obvious. Just keep dancing.”

You nodded, trying to maintain your composure as the unsubs edged closer, their movements purposeful and predatory. The woman’s gaze lingered on you with a kind of disdain that made your skin crawl, as if she were sizing you up, looking for weaknesses. You felt Hotch shift slightly, positioning himself between you and the male unsub, a subtle but deliberate move to protect you.

As the music swelled, Hotch spun you in a graceful arc, his hand firm against your back, guiding you effortlessly. The dance felt like an extension of your partnership: fluid, unspoken, each movement a testament to the trust you’d built.

“This is it,” Hotch whispered as he dipped you low, his face inches from yours. You could feel the tension in his hold, the urgency mixed with something else, something that made your breath hitch. “They’re coming in. Just a little longer.”

You nodded, eyes locked with his, feeling the weight of the moment. When he pulled you back up, you spotted the unsubs moving toward you, their expressions dark and taunting. They joined the dance, circling you and Hotch with a menace that was palpable. The woman moved erratically, her steps sharp and aggressive as if mocking your movements, daring you to falter.

The man sneered, his presence looming as he matched Hotch step for step. “You think you’re good enough to keep up with us?” he spat, his voice dripping with disdain. “This isn’t just a dance.”

Hotch’s expression remained calm, but you could see the fire in his eyes. “It’s not about being good enough. It’s about knowing when to stop.”

The tension reached a breaking point as the woman lunged at you, but Hotch was faster, pulling you back and shielding you with his body. The room erupted into chaos as undercover agents moved in, surrounding the unsubs with practiced precision. You were yanked out of the way, Hotch’s hand never leaving yours as he guided you to safety.

The man fought back viciously, but the agents overpowered him quickly, wrestling him to the ground. The woman was dragged away, her screams echoing in the dance hall as she cursed and spat, her eyes wild with fury. It was over in a matter of seconds, but the adrenaline coursing through your veins made it feel like an eternity.

Hotch stood beside you, his breathing ragged but controlled, his eyes fixed on the scene unfolding before you. “You did great,” he said softly, his voice tinged with a mix of pride and exhaustion. “We did it.”

You turned to him, the weight of everything hitting you all at once “Yeah,” you replied, your voice unsteady. “We did.”

“Guess our partnership does extend to the dance floor after all,” Hotch said with a faint smile, echoing your earlier banter. His eyes held yours, warm and familiar, and you couldn’t help but feel a flicker of hope for whatever might come next.

You laughed softly, squeezing his hand in return. “Yeah, but I’m still holding you to that deal, Hotch. A thousand coffees, remember?”

He chuckled, his expression softening in a way that made your heart skip, he teased. “You just might get it.”

And for the first time, you let yourself believe that maybe, someday, you would.

☐ ⬛

Back at the hotel, the adrenaline of the night had finally worn off, leaving you both drained. Hotch was seated at the small table in your shared room, his usually sharp posture softened by fatigue, sleeves rolled up. He had his jacket carelessly tossed over the back of a chair, his face illuminated by the soft glow of a desk lamp as he flipped through the case notes one last time. The quiet rustle of paper filled the room, a familiar sound that normally calmed you, but tonight, it only reminded you of how much had happened in the span of a few hours.

You sat across from him, cradling a cup of coffee that had gone cold a while ago, but you didn’t care. Hotch glanced up, his eyes meeting yours, and for a moment, the exhaustion in his expression softened, replaced by something gentler, more personal.

“You handled yourself well out there,” he said, his voice low but filled with a sincerity that sent warmth rushing through your chest. “That wasn’t easy, but you kept your head, and… I couldn’t have asked for a better partner.”

You felt your cheeks warm under his praise, the knot of tension in your chest loosening ever so slightly. There was something about the way he said it, the way his gaze lingered on you, that made you feel seen in a way you rarely allowed yourself to feel. “Thanks, Hotch. I couldn’t have done it without you… literally,” you said with a soft smile, trying to keep your voice light despite the emotions stirring within you.

Hotch chuckled, the sound low and warm, a rare softness that made your pulse quicken. “I think we made quite the team tonight. I’d say Rossi and Gideon were right for once.”

You both laughed, the sound easing the lingering tension in the room. You could almost hear Rossi’s smug voice ringing in your ears, the playful teasing he’d surely throw your way once you were all back at the office. But as the laughter faded, the reality of the night settled back in, leaving you with a quiet, contemplative moment that was all too fleeting.

“It was strange,” you said softly, your gaze dropping to the coffee in your hands. “Being that close to… everything. To you.”

The words slipped out before you could stop them, vulnerability lacing your voice, and you quickly tried to cover your tracks with a joke. “Especially because you’re not the most physical person I know—and this comes from another relatively not-so-physical person.”

Hotch raised an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at his lips as he leaned back in his chair. “Well, as I’ve already told you, you’ll have to wait until the 1,000th coffee before you get any kind of physical contact.” His eyes sparkled with amusement, the joke a reminder of your earlier banter, but underneath it, you sensed the deeper acknowledgment of the closeness you’d shared on the dance floor.

“Be careful what you wish for, Hotch,” you teased, your voice light but tinged with genuine affection. “With the way things are going, we’re not just approaching our 1,000th coffee; we’re practically rehearsing for our first dance.”

Hotch shook his head, his smile widening as he leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. “Maybe it’s all part of Rossi’s master plan. Get us so tangled up in undercover work that we forget how to do anything else.”

You laughed, rolling your eyes at the thought of Rossi’s meddling. “If this is his idea of fun, then I’d hate to see what he has planned for our next assignment.”

The teasing between you felt like a lifeline, something solid and real to hold onto amid the chaos. But even as you joked, there was a flicker of something deeper in Hotch’s eyes, a quiet recognition that this was more than just another case, more than just another day on the job.

Eventually, Hotch set the case notes aside, his focus shifting entirely to you. He leaned back, studying you with an expression that was equal parts admiration and something softer, something you dared not name. “You should get some rest,” he said gently, his voice carrying a note of concern that tugged at your heart. “We’ve got a long day tomorrow, and I think we’ve both earned a break.”

You nodded, feeling the exhaustion tugging at your limbs as you stood and made your way toward your bed. But before you turned off the light, you glanced back at him, unable to keep the small, grateful smile from spreading across your face. “Goodnight, Hotch. And… thank you. For not having stepped on my toes.”

Hotch returned the smile, his eyes lingering on you in the dim light. “Goodnight,” he replied, his voice soft but resonant. “And thank you, for the dance.”

☐ ⬛

When both of you were back to Quantico, the bar was buzzing with the lively hum of weekend chatter and soft music playing over the speakers. After the intensity of your recent cases, you, Hotch, and Peter had agreed to meet up, seeking some semblance of normalcy amid the chaos of your jobs.

The three of you were seated at a circular table, dimly lit by the glow of a nearby lamp. Peter was talking animatedly about his case in Los Angeles, recounting the details with a mix of exasperation and pride, while you and Hotch listened, nursing your drinks.

You watched Peter with a fond smile, grateful for the easy camaraderie you shared, but also feeling the weight of recent revelations about your own feelings. As he talked, you couldn’t help but notice how animated he became when he was excited, the way his eyes lit up when he was deep in a story. It was moments like these that made you value his friendship so much, but also reminded you of why things between the two of you could never be more than that.

Your gaze drifted absently around the bar, soaking in the low-lit ambiance and the scattered patrons enjoying their evening. The clinking of glasses, murmured conversations, and soft laughter created a comforting buzz in the background.

But something else caught your attention: a woman at the table next to yours, just out of Peter’s line of sight, was eyeing him with a mix of curiosity and barely concealed interest. She was attractive, with an easy smile and bright eyes that flickered over to Peter whenever he wasn’t looking. Her body language screamed intrigue—subtle glances, a quick smoothing of her hair, and the nervous excitement of someone contemplating making the first move.

Instinctively, you glanced over at Hotch, who was already watching you with a knowing smirk, as if he’d been waiting for you to catch on. His dark eyes gleamed with the unspoken mischief you both shared, reading your thoughts without a single word.

It was one of those moments that felt like a silent conversation, a shared understanding you’d perfected over years of working together. You both knew what this was: Peter deserved someone who saw him, who could give him the attention he deserved, something you were too tangled up in your own unresolved feelings to offer.

Hotch leaned in, his voice low and conspiratorial, his breath warm against your ear. “We should give him a chance,” he murmured, his lips twitching into a subtle smile that sent an unexpected flutter through your chest.

You nodded, catching on to his plan immediately, your own smile mirroring his. “We just need to find a way to leave him alone. Got any ideas?” you asked, your voice playful yet filled with anticipation.

Hotch’s eyes sparkled with a mischievous gleam, and you could practically see the wheels turning in his head. He had that look—the one that told you he was already five steps ahead, crafting a plan with the precision of a seasoned strategist. “Follow my lead,” he said, amusement lacing his tone. Hotch stood up, stretching casually, his movements drawing subtle glances from the surrounding tables. He made it look effortless, but you knew it was all part of the act.

“I’m going to grab us another round,” he announced, loud enough for Peter to hear but casual enough to keep up the ruse. He glanced back at you, a hint of challenge in his eyes. “You want anything, Y/N?”

You caught on without missing a beat, slipping into character with practiced ease. “Yeah, I’ll come with you,” you said, shooting Peter a quick, reassuring smile. “Keep our spot warm, okay? We’ll be right back.”

Peter, engrossed in his latest story about a wild case from the past, barely glanced up as he waved you off, too wrapped up in his own world to notice the unfolding setup. As you and Hotch made your way toward the bar, you risked a glance over your shoulder, just in time to see the woman take her chance.

She moved quickly, sliding into the seat next to Peter with a confident smile, striking up a conversation as though she’d been waiting all night for this moment. Peter’s expression shifted from surprise to a genuine, pleased smile, his posture straightening as he turned his attention fully to her.

Hotch watched the scene unfold, his smile turning smug with satisfaction. “Another mission accomplished, partner” he said softly, his voice carrying a quiet pride that mirrored your own. It wasn’t often you got to play matchmaker, but seeing Peter’s face light up made it all worthwhile.

You stifled a laugh, feeling the thrill of a plan executed perfectly. “I think he’ll thank us later,” you quipped, sharing a quick look with Hotch that was filled with conspiratorial delight. It was a simple moment, but one that cemented the bond between you.

Hotch returned with two glasses of whiskey in hand, the amber liquid catching the dim light as he handed one to you. He raised his glass, a playful glint in his eyes. “For love at first sight,” he toasted with a grin, the humor in his voice unmistakable.

You couldn’t resist adding your own cheeky touch. “And maybe to something a little more… physical happening tonight.” You clinked your glass against his, the sound crisp and satisfying, and took a sip, savoring both the taste and the success of your little scheme.

Just as you settled back, the familiar, haunting opening notes of “It’s All Coming Back to Me Now” began to play over the speakers, the dramatic chords filling the room with a nostalgic charge. The coincidence was surreal, almost eerie, and you both froze, exchanging a look of incredulous surprise, as if the universe was nudging you with a playful elbow.

“What are the odds?” you laughed, barely able to contain the mix of surprise and amusement bubbling up inside you. Hotch shook his head, smirking as he read your thoughts with ease.

“No,” he said firmly, though the smile playing at his lips betrayed his resolve. “I don’t think we’re going to do another show tonight.”

You leaned in closer, teasing him with a sparkle in your eyes. “Oh, come on, Hotch. Can you imagine the looks we’d get? It would be priceless. Plus, I bet drinks would be on me for the rest of the night.”

Hotch raised an eyebrow, his expression a blend of challenge and barely restrained laughter. “You don’t even have to ask me twice, then” he said, his voice low, filled with that familiar warmth and a hint of mischief that made your heart skip a beat.

Without another word, he set down his drink and extended his hand to you, his eyes gleaming with a mix of playfulness and something deeper, something that had been simmering between you for longer than either of you cared to admit. You hesitated for just a second, your gaze locked with his, before taking his hand, the contact sending a rush of exhilaration through you.

Hotch led you onto the dance floor, his grip firm but gentle, guiding you into position with a confidence that made it easy to fall into step. The music swelled, and suddenly it was just the two of you, surrounded by the soft glow of the lights and the muted conversations of the crowd. There was no case to focus on, no killers to catch, just you and Hotch, moving in sync to a song that seemed to echo every unspoken feeling between you.

His hand settled on your waist, his touch warm and steady, and you couldn’t help but lean into it, your body responding instinctively to his. Every spin, every step felt like a conversation without words, a silent dance of emotions that had been building between you for longer than you cared to admit. When he pulled you closer, his breath mingling with yours, the rest of the world seemed to fade away.

As the final note of the song hung in the air and the applause continued, you found yourself still standing impossibly close to Hotch, your breaths mingling, his hand still warm against yours. There was something thrilling about the moment, something unspoken passing between the two of you as the crowd around you slowly came back into focus.

Hotch smirked, his gaze flicking briefly to the bar. “Well, I believe someone owes me at least two rounds of whiskey,” he said, his voice teasing yet still carrying that low, rough edge that made your heart skip a beat.

You chuckled, your chest still heaving slightly from the dance. “A deal’s a deal,” you replied, your own grin widening. “And I’m nothing if not a woman of my word.”

He let go of your hand reluctantly, the absence of his touch leaving a small void that you couldn’t quite ignore. But there was warmth in his eyes, that familiar sense of playfulness that had surprised you earlier in the night, and it softened the space between you. As the two of you made your way back to the bar, you glanced around, catching sight of Peter and the woman still deep in conversation. A small part of you felt a sense of satisfaction, your matchmaking mission had been a success.

Rossi, ever observant, caught your eye from across the room and raised his glass in a mock toast. You couldn't help but laugh under your breath, giving him a subtle nod in return. He’d undoubtedly have something to say about the impromptu performance on the dance floor.

As you approached the bar, Hotch leaned casually against it, his presence commanding even in the relaxed setting. He waved the bartender over and ordered two whiskeys, his expression calm but his eyes still gleaming with the aftereffects of your shared moment. You had seen him in so many different roles - coworker, partner, friend - but this side of him, lighter and more playful, felt like a rare gift you hadn’t quite expected.

“So,” Hotch began, turning toward you as the bartender placed the glasses in front of you both, “think the unsubs would’ve been impressed with that performance?”

You raised an eyebrow, smirking as you lifted your glass. “They would’ve been running for their lives,” you quipped, taking a sip of the smooth whiskey. The warmth of it spread through you, mixing with the buzz of the evening. “You should see the way you move out there. If profiling doesn’t work out, I’m sure Broadway could use you.”

Hotch let out a soft laugh, shaking his head as he lifted his own glass. “I’ll take that as a compliment,” he replied, his voice still low, but there was an unmistakable amusement in his eyes. “But I think we should leave the dancing to the professionals.”

You clinked your glass against his, grinning. “Agreed.”

Before you could say anything more, Rossi sauntered over, his trademark smirk firmly in place. “Well, well, well,” he drawled, swirling his drink in his hand as he looked between you and Hotch. “I never thought I’d see the day. You two make quite the pair on the dance floor. I’m starting to think we missed our chance to send you undercover at a ballroom competition.”

You rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t hide the smile tugging at your lips. “You’re just jealous you didn’t get an invite.”

“Jealous?” Rossi feigned offense, his hand over his chest. “I’m just glad I got a front-row seat to the show.” He winked, clearly enjoying himself far too much.

“Don’t worry, Rossi,” Hotch chimed in smoothly, his voice dry but full of that subtle humor you’d been seeing all night. “I’m sure there’ll be another opportunity. We’ll make sure you’re prepared next time.”

Rossi chuckled, clearly entertained. “I’ll hold you to that, Hotch. But next time, I expect a full routine, choreography and all.”

As Rossi took a swig of his drink, Peter wandered over, his face flushed with a combination of excitement and, likely, a couple of drinks. “Hey,” he said, slightly breathless, his eyes darting between you and Hotch. “That was… something. I didn’t know you two could move like that.”

You exchanged a quick glance with Hotch, both of you trying to suppress smiles. “Just trying to keep things interesting,” you said lightly, noticing how Peter kept glancing back toward the woman he’d been talking to earlier.

Hotch, always perceptive, raised an eyebrow. “Seems like you’ve had a good night yourself.”

Peter’s grin widened, and he rubbed the back of his neck, clearly pleased with how things were going. “Yeah, actually. I’m kind of surprised, but… she’s great. I think we’re going to grab dinner next week.”

You felt a surge of satisfaction at that, knowing that your little matchmaking effort had paid off. “That’s great, Peter,” you said genuinely. “She seems like a good match for you.”

Peter beamed, clearly grateful, before excusing himself to rejoin her. As he left, you turned back to Hotch, the playful energy between you simmering just below the surface.

“Well, look at us,” you mused, swirling the remaining whiskey in your glass. “We’ve played matchmaker, stolen the show, and now I owe you drinks. I’d say tonight’s been a success.”

Hotch tilted his head, that familiar smirk making an appearance again. “Not to mention you’ve proven I can dance without stepping on your toes,” he teased.

You laughed, the sound genuine and light. “I’ll admit, you exceeded expectations. Though, if I remember correctly, you said something about ‘no promises.’”

He raised his glass in mock defeat. “Guilty.”

As the night began to wind down, the bar’s atmosphere softened around you, the conversations fading into a gentle hum beneath the dim glow of the hanging lights. You found yourself more at ease than you had been in a long time, just sitting here with Hotch, sharing drinks and easy laughter, without the shadow of a case looming overhead. And in those quiet minutes, you felt the undeniable bond that went beyond your roles as agents, reaching into something more personal, more real.

Hotch seemed to sense your thoughts, and he turned toward you, his expression softening in a way that was so rare for him—vulnerable, unguarded. “Thanks for tonight,” he said quietly, his voice low and filled with sincerity. “For playing along… and for everything else.” The weight of his words lingered, filled with unspoken appreciation for the comfort of your presence, both on and off the field.

The simple, heartfelt acknowledgment made your chest tighten with warmth, a feeling of closeness that was hard to describe. “Anytime, Hotch,” you replied softly, meeting his gaze and feeling that familiar rush of something deeper between you. “A philosopher I know once said, ‘partners on the job, partners on the dancefloor, and partners in crime.’”

Hotch laughed, the sound rich and genuine, his dimples making a rare appearance that you couldn’t help but adore. “I wonder who that wise man might be,” he mused, his tone playful and self-deprecating.

You grinned, leaning back in your chair, savoring the moment. “Oh, just the real advocate of the ‘Hegel for Dummies’ philosophical current,” you teased, your voice dripping with mock seriousness. “The man who’s mastered the art of the unholy trinity.”

Hotch chuckled, rolling his eyes but playing along effortlessly. “Ah, yes. The esteemed ‘Hegel for Dummies’ dialectics—a groundbreaking philosophy,” he said, putting on an exaggeratedly thoughtful expression that made you laugh. “It’s all about the triad, right? The unholy trinity: partners on the job, partners on the dancefloor, and partners in crime. A revolutionary approach to teamwork.”

You couldn’t contain your laughter, enjoying the easy back-and-forth. It was moments like these that made you feel like you and Hotch were more than just friends, you were partners in every sense of the word, sharing in the lighter side of life that was often overshadowed by the darkness of your work.

As you sipped the last of your whiskey, a mischievous thought struck you, and you leaned closer to Hotch, your voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “What do you say we sign Rossi up for the karaoke list? A little payback for all his teasing.”

Hotch’s eyes gleamed with delight, his smile widening at the suggestion. “I thought you’d never ask,” he said, his voice filled with that familiar blend of amusement and quiet mischief that you loved. “I’m sure he’s got a rendition of ‘My Way’ just waiting to be unleashed.”

The two of you moved with quiet stealth, slipping over to the karaoke sign-up sheet while Rossi was engrossed in conversation with a couple of admirers at the bar. You exchanged a quick, mischievous glance as Hotch scribbled Rossi’s name onto the list with a flourish, choosing the most dramatic ballad you could think of, something that would make Rossi’s grand, showman personality shine, but also give you and Hotch a much-needed laugh.

Rossi’s name was called moments later, and the surprised look on his face as he stepped up to the microphone was priceless. Hotch leaned in close, his arm brushing yours as you both watched Rossi take the stage. “This might be the best decision we’ve made all night,” he whispered, his breath warm against your ear.

You nodded, unable to keep the grin off your face as Rossi launched into a hilariously over-the-top performance, complete with exaggerated hand gestures and dramatic pauses that had the entire bar captivated, and you and Hotch doubled over in laughter.

It was the perfect end to an unexpected evening, a night that reminded you of the simple joy of being around people who knew you deeply and cared without question. And as you stood there beside Hotch, sharing in the moment, you couldn’t help but feel grateful for the twists of fate that had brought you here, partners on the job, partners in crime, even if you always hoped for something even more.

[demonpiratehuntress]

steal the show

Trafalgar Law x F!Reader

summary - Based on 'Steal the Show' by Lauv. Law has seen many women before, but had never paid any attention to them. you, however, have him staring as soon as you walk into a room or when you do anything basically

warnings - none

Trafalgar Law is not a man known for being good with women. He is, in fact, not, and has never felt the need or want to be. He's never expressed interest in romance, and didn't even entertain the idea of one-night stands.

Then you came into his life and flipped it upside-down.

The whole crew notices when Law develops a crush on you, because suddenly his cheeks are just slightly more pink than they were a few seconds ago because you had just smiled at him. Suddenly his eyes are only on you when you enter a room, as if magnetically drawn to your figure.

"Captain!" You called cheerily as you slipped into his room without knocking, something he seemingly only allowed you to do.

At once, Law's eyes shot up to greet your figure. He cursed himself silently, annoyed that he would instantly gaze at your beautiful figure gracing him with your presence. You hadn't done anything to your clothes or hair, but you looked absolutely radiant and Law had to try his hardest not to blush when you gave him your sweetest smile yet.

"Happy to see me, captain?" You teased, unknowingly hitting it spot on.

"You called, (Name)-ya," he coughed, trying to keep the lovesickness out of his eyes and voice. He apparently failed, because you smiled more.

"We're approaching an island."

Suddenly, your babbling has become very interesting to Law, even if it isn't anything scientific and is actually completely useless information.

"And then Nami told me Luffy got them stuck on this sky island, and..." As you rambled on and on, Law listened intently, despite the fact that what you were saying meant absolutely nothing to him. "Sorry, captain. I must be boring you."

"And then what happened?" Law asked, tilting his head slightly. He ignored your comment, because you could never bore him.

You were surprised, but smiled again and then launched into an even longer explanation of the Straw Hats exploits in Thriller Bark, as told to you by Robin. But then your smile faltered a little, and Law frowned.

"What's wrong, (Name)-ya?"

You sighed, "Robin's so smart and so pretty. Just your type." You thought you'd murmured the last part, but Law heard it. Before he could question you or say anything, you excused yourself.

And Law wanted to so badly stop you and tell you that you're his type, but he was frozen, unsure what to actually do.

Law can't help it. He's never had a crush on anyone before. He's never been in love before. This is completely new to him, but somehow because it's you, he feels okay with it.

But he's afraid to tell you.

He tried to bring it up in another conversation you had with him a few days after you'd said Robin was his type, but he was interrupted by Bepo coming to get you to finally teach him how to make cookies shaped like him, just like you'd promised. And Law watches you go, pained by the fact that he can't tell you how he feels.

So he asks the bear for help.

And a few days later, he finally gathers up the courage to follow Bepo's plan and invite you to a private dinner in his room, set up and arranged by Shachi, Penguin and Bepo because Law himself had no idea what to do.

And when you walked in wearing the prettiest yellow sundress, braving the cold of the submarine just to look nice for him, Law ends up staring at you for so long that you get nervous and think he thinks you look weird. Or that he's going to reprimand you for not wearing your boiler suit. But he says something you never ever expected.

"You always manage to steal the show, (Name)-ya," he blushed as he said it, looking a tiny bit flustered, as if he couldn't believe he said it.

"Thank you, captain," you smiled at him, a blush of your own dusting your cheeks. Butterflies bloomed in your stomach, but despite your nervousness you were so incredibly happy that this was happening.

Law was thinking about what to say as you both ate. You looked so cute when you got food on your face and quickly apologised, flustered, making it hard for him to concentrate. Again, he couldn't help but stare and his heart beat wildly in his chest just looking at you.

"I want you to be mine, (Name)-ya," he finally spoke, slowly. Then his eyes widened, "Not because I think I own you-"

"It's okay, Law," you giggled, "I know what you mean. And I've always been yours."

He relaxed and smiled at that, before leaning over to kiss you sweetly. It was unlike anything you'd ever felt, and you immediately wanted more. You kissed him deeper, longer, dreading the minute you'd have to let his warm, soft lips go. It came all too soon, but he cupped your cheek in one of his hands and affectionately brushed his thumb over your warm, red cheek with a soft smile.

"Good, because I've always been yours too."

[fanfictionismyaddiction]

Whispers of Rome

Word count: 2.3k

Pairing: Toto Wolff x reader

Summary: On a summer night in Rome, Y/n and her friends meet Toto Wolff and his friend at their favorite bar. Despite exchanging glances, neither Y/n nor Toto can initially find the courage to speak. When their friends' coincidental bathroom trips lead to introductions, the two groups mingle, sparking deeper conversations.

Warnings: Older male younger female, age gap, size difference, soft smut

One Shot Masterlist

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It was a warm summer night in Rome, the kind that wrapped the city in a golden glow and made every moment feel like a scene from a movie. Y/n, 24, was out with her two best friends, Sarah, 30, and James, 26. They had just finished a delightful dinner at a quaint trattoria and were now headed to Y/n’s favorite bar, a cozy little spot known for its charming ambiance and exquisite cocktails.

Unbeknownst to Y/n, Toto Wolff, the legendary Formula 1 team principal, was also in Rome. He had come to the city for a brief respite, accompanied by his friend, Mark. After a day of sightseeing, they decided to unwind at a bar that had caught Toto’s eye earlier in the day—the same bar Y/n and her friends were headed to.

As Y/n and her friends settled into their seats, Toto and Mark took a table opposite them. The instant Y/n spotted Toto, she recognized him from the numerous races she had followed, but she never imagined she’d see him here. Throughout the evening, Y/n and Toto exchanged glances, each too shy to approach the other. The air between them crackled with an unspoken connection, a palpable tension that neither could ignore.

"Did you see that guy?" Y/n whispered to Sarah, nodding subtly in Toto's direction.

Sarah turned slightly and then back to Y/n, her eyes widening. "He looks familiar, but I can't place him. Who is he?"

Y/n leaned in closer, her excitement barely contained. "That's Toto Wolff, the handsome guy from Formula 1 I've been telling you about!"

Sarah's eyes lit up in recognition. "Oh really? Now I see what you mean. He does look good!"

Meanwhile, James, oblivious to Y/n’s secret glances, eventually excused himself to the restroom. Coincidentally, Mark did the same. In the restroom, the two men struck up a conversation. James, always the sociable one, mentioned their table and invited Mark and his friend to join them. Mark, sensing an opportunity, agreed.

When they returned, James announced, "Guys, I’ve invited these two gentlemen to join us. Hope you don’t mind."

Y/n’s heart skipped a beat as Toto and Mark took the seats next to them. Despite the shyness that lingered between Y/n and Toto, the group quickly fell into an animated exchange of stories and laughter. Toto introduced himself and Mark, and soon they were all sharing travel stories and favorite places in Rome.

As the conversation flowed, Y/n found herself stealing glances at Toto, admiring his easy smile and the way he listened intently to everyone. She gathered her courage and turned to him. "I have to confess, I know who you are," she said, her cheeks flushing slightly. "I've followed Formula 1 for years."

Toto smiled warmly. "And I have to confess, I noticed you the moment I walked in. There's something about you, Y/n. I just like you."

Y/n's heart fluttered at his words. "Well, that makes two of us then," she replied, feeling a bit braver.

As the night went on, they continued to talk, their conversations becoming more personal. They discussed their passions, their dreams, and the serendipity of their meeting. Despite the shyness, a genuine connection was forming between them.

After a few rounds of drinks, Sarah suggested, “Hey, how about we go to the beach? It’s a beautiful night and the bar’s about to close.”

It was already 2 AM, but the idea of parting ways was the last thing on Y/n and Toto’s minds. Fueled by the courage from the evening’s libations, they all agreed and ordered an Uber.

At the beach, they laid out their jackets on the cool sand. The moon hung low, casting a silver path on the waves. Y/n and Toto found themselves sitting next to each other, the silence between them filled with unspoken words. Y/n broke the silence, turning to Toto with a mischievous grin.

"You know, we should go for a swim when the sun comes up," she said, her eyes sparkling.

Sarah and James eagerly agreed, but Toto hesitated. "I don't know, it's pretty cold," he said with a reluctant smile.

"Come on, it'll be fun," Y/n encouraged. Seeing his hesitation, she stood up and began to strip down to her underwear. "I’m going in!"

Toto watched her, captivated, as she confidently headed towards the water. Her boldness was infectious, and after a moment, he stood up as well, laughing. "Alright, you win," he said, quickly stripping down and following her.

As they waded into the water, the cool waves lapping at their legs, they continued their conversation. "So, what do you love most about Rome?" Toto asked.

"I think it's the history," Y/n replied. "Every corner of the city tells a story. What about you?"

"For me, it's the atmosphere," Toto said. "It's different from anywhere else. The people, the food, the energy—it's all so vibrant."

Y/n nodded. "And tonight has been...unexpectedly wonderful."

Toto smiled, moving closer to her. "It has been. I'm glad we decided to come here."

As they ventured deeper into the water, the coldness of the sea contrasted sharply with the warmth between them. The conversation flowed effortlessly, and as the first light of dawn began to creep over the horizon, the tension that had been building all night finally broke.

Y/n turned to Toto, her eyes reflecting the dawn light. "I've never met anyone quite like you," she said softly.

"And I've never met anyone like you," Toto replied, his voice husky.

The world around them faded as they leaned in, their lips meeting in a tender but electrifying kiss. The kiss deepened, becoming more passionate as the waves gently lapped around them. Their hands explored each other’s bodies, the water making their skin slick and the sensations more intense.

They finally pulled back, breathless. "This is crazy," Y/n whispered, a mix of excitement and disbelief in her voice.

"But it feels right," Toto replied, his eyes locked onto hers.

Y/n nodded, agreeing. "What happens now?"

Toto hesitated for a moment before speaking. "I don't want this night to end. Would you like to come back to my hotel? We can watch the sunrise from there."

Y/n smiled, feeling a thrill of anticipation. "I'd love that."

As the sun rose, casting a warm glow over the beach, they emerged from the water and rejoined their friends. Sarah and James smiled knowingly, glad to see Y/n so happy. The group sat together, drying off in the morning sun, exchanging phone numbers 

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The early morning air filled with the sounds of their laughter and chatter. Y/n found herself standing a little apart from the others, lost in her thoughts.

Sarah noticed Y/n's distracted demeanor and walked over to her. "Hey, you okay?" she asked, a knowing smile on her face.

Y/n looked at her friend, a blush creeping up her cheeks. "Yeah, I’m just thinking about everything. It’s been... a lot."

Sarah chuckled. "I can imagine. You two were pretty cozy in the water. So, what’s the plan now?"

Y/n sighed, glancing over at Toto, who was talking to Mark and James a little further down the beach. "He invited me to his hotel. I want to go, but... I don’t know. What if this is just a one-time thing?"

Sarah placed a reassuring hand on Y/n’s shoulder. "Listen, Y/n. You’re one of the most confident and sexy women I know. You went after what you wanted tonight, and it paid off. Don't second-guess yourself now. If you want to spend more time with him, go for it. You deserve to enjoy this."

Y/n smiled, feeling a surge of confidence from Sarah’s words. "You really think so?"

"I know so," Sarah replied firmly. "And honestly, from what I saw, he seems really into you. Just go with the flow and see where it leads."

Encouraged by her friend's words, Y/n nodded. "Thanks, Sarah. You always know what to say."

"That’s what best friends are for," Sarah said with a wink.

Feeling more assured, Y/n walked back over to Toto, who smiled as she approached. "Ready to head out?" he asked, his eyes hopeful.

Y/n glanced back at Sarah, who gave her a supportive nod. "Yeah, I’m ready," she replied, her heart racing with excitement.

______________________________________________________________

The ride to Toto's hotel was filled with a charged silence, both of them acutely aware of the night's possibilities. The early morning light cast long shadows across Rome's ancient streets as their Uber navigated the winding roads. Y/n's heart raced with excitement and anticipation, her hand still entwined with Toto's, feeling the warmth and strength of his grip.

When they arrived, Toto led Y/n through the opulent lobby of the hotel, the grandeur of the place reflecting his stature. The staff greeted him with respectful nods, and Y/n couldn’t help but feel a bit awed by the whole experience. They took the elevator to the top floor, where Toto’s suite offered a breathtaking view of the city waking up under the rising sun.

Once inside the suite, Toto closed the door behind them and turned to Y/n. “Can I get you anything? A drink, perhaps?”

Y/n shook her head, stepping closer to him. “No, I’m good. I just want to...” She trailed off, glancing up at him. The height difference between them was more pronounced now, Toto towering over her with his 6'5" frame. Y/n, at 5'4", had to tilt her head back to look into his eyes, the difference making her feel both small and protected.

Toto smiled down at her, his eyes softening. “I’ve got you,” he murmured, closing the distance between them. He cupped her face in his large hands and leaned down to kiss her, his lips meeting hers with a mix of tenderness and hunger. Y/n responded eagerly, her arms wrapping around his neck, pulling him closer.

They slowly made their way to the large, plush bed, shedding the remnants of their damp clothing along the way. When they finally fell onto the bed, the feel of the soft sheets against their skin was a delicious contrast to the firm touch of their bodies.

Toto paused for a moment, looking down at Y/n with a mixture of desire and tenderness. “Are you sure about this?” he asked, his voice a low whisper.

Y/n nodded, her eyes locked onto his. “I’ve never been more sure of anything.”

With that, they surrendered to the moment. Their lovemaking was both urgent and tender, a perfect blend of passion and connection. Toto’s experienced touch and Y/n’s eager responses created a rhythm that felt both new and timeless. As they moved together, they spoke in whispers, sharing secrets and desires, each word deepening their bond.

Afterward, they lay tangled in the sheets, their bodies still humming from the intensity of their encounter. The sun had fully risen, casting a golden glow into the room. Toto brushed a strand of hair from Y/n’s face, his eyes filled with a softness she hadn’t expected.

“What happens now?” Y/n asked, her voice barely more than a breath.

Toto sighed contentedly, pulling her closer. “I don’t know. But I want to find out. I want to see where this can go.”

Y/n smiled, feeling a warmth spread through her chest. “Me too.”

They spent the rest of the morning wrapped in each other’s arms, talking and laughing, exploring the depths of their connection. They ordered breakfast to the room, savoring the simple pleasure of sharing a meal together. Each moment felt like a discovery, every touch a promise of something more.

As the city buzzed to life outside, Y/n and Toto remained in their bubble, oblivious to the world beyond the walls of the suite. 

______________________________________________________________

As noon approached, the reality of the world outside began to seep back in. They reluctantly dressed, but the ease between them remained. Toto watched Y/n as she moved around the room, a soft smile playing on his lips.

“You know, you could stay,” he suggested, his tone casual but his eyes hopeful.

Y/n turned to him, considering. “I’d love to, but I should probably get back to Sarah and James. They’ll be wondering what happened to me.”

Toto nodded, understanding. “Of course. But maybe we can meet again tonight? Dinner, perhaps?”

Y/n’s heart fluttered at the thought. “I’d love that.”

Toto walked her to the door, their fingers reluctantly parting. “Until tonight, then,” he said, pressing a gentle kiss to her lips.

“Until tonight,” Y/n echoed, stepping out into the hallway.

As she made her way back to her friends, she couldn’t stop smiling.

When she finally reunited with Sarah and James, they bombarded her with questions. Y/n laughed, sharing the highlights of her night, though some details she kept just for herself.

[jeankirsteinsgrlfrnd]

playing excited & exhausted with them

ft: levi, erwin, bertholdt, jean, connie, annie, sasha, mikasa, eren

a/n: excited & exhausted is card game made for couples to play when they’re drinking. it is an explicit card game so this post is 18+. NSFW MDNI ! however, this does not go into details. it’s very light on the smut side, if you can even call it that. i’m not 100% comfortable writing full smut yet soo :) this request is for/from @ricebowl768 - also, this is not proofread :)

levi ackerman

it’s a pain to play this game with levi. he insists on doing all of the tasks on the card, resulting in you being the only drunk one. he says, “what’s the point of playing if i don’t do any of these?”

you tell him, it’s supposed to be fun and he doesn’t have to do any of the dares that he doesn’t want to. charmingly, he responds, “well, you’re my girlfriend. i want to do these things.”

erwin smith

he’s curious when you present him the deck. he didn’t think you’d be interested in something so explicit. honestly, he’s quiet shy about most of the cards. he gets a nice buzz going pretty fast, giving him the courage to do all these things.

the night ends up quite wholesome as you two share bursts of drunken giggles. you two wind up sweetly entangled in bed.

bertholdt hoover

you have to convince bert to play this game, given he’s on the shyer side. you both take two shots before playing just to ease any anxiety. the first card he draws reads, “drink if you want to have sex after this game.” his eyes widen and he downs another shot. he tries to hard the cards from you but you are dying to know, so you lunge across towards him and wrestle him for the card.

you laugh at his embarrassment when you read it outloud. you reassure him he doesn’t have anything to feel embarassed about by kissing him all over his red cheeks.

jean kirstein

jean thinks you’re the best girlfriend ever for buying this card game. he mainly teases you about drinking whenever you don’t want to do the action on the card. he calls you a few names just to rile you up. tired of his shit, you start doing everything on the cards just to prove a point. no matter how provocative or exposing they are, you do them. he both hates and loves you for this but he can’t wait for the game to be over.

connie springer

he’s enthusiastic about playing this game, he actually was the one who had picked it up at the store while you weren’t paying attention. he reveals it by slamming it down on the table and insists you two play. you both end up sloppy drunk for some reason despite doing everything on the card. honestly, it was just a good excuse to get sloppy drunk and be horny for each other.

annie leonhardt

she’s sort of…rough when you bring up the idea. annie’s a pretty shy, reserved person so when you present her with the game, she gives you a shrug. no wanting to press her boundaries, you forget about it.

she brings it up later on, on a random afternoon. she wants to deepen her bond with you, so she steps outside her comfort zone. she blushed at nearly every single card, choosing to consume a bunch of liquor.

she manages to hold herself together well, until she gives into her desires and chooses to do the sexual tasks on the cards. this side of her is refreshing. you keep telling her she doesn’t have to do anything, but she insists the liquor has given her courage to do these things she’s wanted to do all along.

sasha braus

sasha giggles at every single card! she barely takes anything seriously, especially when she’s drinking. she doesn’t quite understand the circumstances of the game until you draw all the promiscuous cards. she tries to keep a cool about tasks such as kissing her thighs. but since you know her so well, her gasps of surprise are considered more gasps of arousal. overall, she winds up enjoying the game.

mikasa ackerman

mikasa looks to please you, and only you as their partner. of course, this urge doesn’t dismiss her shyness. she starts off the game with a high confidence, dismissing with each card. she wants to do each, to please you but ultimately, she’s too embarassed. it winds up with her having a bunch of shots and it makes you laugh. you tell her, “baby, you don’t have to do anything, we can stop playing this game.”

she counters back, “i want to! it’s just so…vulgar? how do people do this sober?!”

it’s not that she’s a prude, but this game is impossible to play! that’s what she insists.

eren jaeger

this game was made for eren, or so he thinks. he‘ d play this game with anyone but for him, it’s a pleasure to play with you. he doesn’t shy away from any task, no matter how filthy it is. he enjoys teasing you and seeing you flustered. he wants you uncomfortable, in a consensual way of course. eren wants to take you further than you’ve ever been. both physically and mentally. he’s a menace, testing your limits until you’re begging for him!

[wlntrsldler]

song challenge with Jamie tartt ! The just friends one please ☺️❤️

just friends | jamie tartt

based on just friends by virginia to vegas

description: you meet jamie tartt at a gala and he can't help but fall for you.

warnings: language-- it's ted lasso, what did you expect? angst! miscommunication! drinking! making out!

length: 4K words

ted lasso requests are open | main masterlist

When your uncle Trent invited you to a "work party," you expected maybe a private room in a restaurant in Tooting, or at most, a cocktail hour on a boat with snooty, businessmen. You did not expect a full-on red carpet gala with paparazzi, and famous footballers, and well, you got the snooty businessmen part right at least.

You knew your uncle had worked with AFC Richmond in the past. You weren't completely out of the loop. You read the book he wrote-- which was marvelous-- and watched a few of the games last season, but you didn't think he stayed in touch with the Richmond crew. Especially not to the point where he's still invited to their annual charity gala with a plus one.

Because of your lack of preparation, you felt severely underprepared for the event. You stood beside the open bar while your uncle walked around and mingled. You made the excuse that you needed some liquid courage to loosen up before you started chatting with folks who could buy half of England if they wanted to.

"Y/N?" You turned around to find a woman dressed in a gorgeous, sparkly dress, smiling at you. She outstretched her hand, which you gladly accepted. "I'm Keeley. Trent has told me so much about you."

"Keeley Jones!" You exclaimed, a smile overtaking your features. "So nice to meet you."

"Likewise," she beamed, "What ya doin' all the way over here? Come on, have you met the boys yet?"

You didn't have a chance to say no before she was pulling you towards a crowd of men dressed to the nines. You saw your uncle talking to one of them and he shot you a comforting smile as you approached.

"Lads, this is Y/N! Trent's niece."

"Nice to meet you, Y/N!" The boy beside your uncle called out, raising his beer bottle in a hello, "Name's Colin."

Then, the one next to you turned his body to introduce himself, "Hello, my name is Sam. It's a pleasure to meet you."

This caused a domino effect where all the men began introducing themselves to you. It was overwhelming, in a good way, but you knew that you would not be able to remember all of their names.

Finally, there were two boys left to introduce themselves. One had a glass of champagne in his hand, grinning brightly as he waited for his turn to speak. The other was wearing sunglasses indoors--prick-- and looked like he would rather be anywhere else but here.

"Hello, Y/N. My name is Jan Maas." The happier of the two grinned at you. "Trent did not tell us you were this pretty."

"Oi, bruv," Isaac, who you learned was the captain of the team, smacked Jan Maas on his arm, "You don't have to say everything that pops into your head all the time."

You blushed, laughing at the two men bickering. "No worries, I appreciate the compliment, Jan Maas."

The circle was hushed as they waited for the last man to speak up. When it became evident that he was not gonna say anything-- again, prick-- Roy spoke up. "And that's Jamie."

Ah. It made sense now. Jamie Tartt. You heard a lot about him from your uncle and from the sports blogs you read last season when you were trying to get caught up on all things AFC Richmond. You knew Jamie Tartt was the real deal. It suddenly wasn't so surprising that he felt like he was too good to engage in conversation with you.

But you would be a liar if you said that you didn't find him attractive. If he put in the effort to be decent, then you'd definitely be crushing on him already. He looked good. His jacket was discarded somewhere. He had the sleeves of his dress shirt rolled up to his elbows with a gold chain peeking out from under the collar. You had to give credit where credit is due.

You awkwardly moved on from the situation and mingled with the boys. You met Rebecca, Coach Beard, and Nate later in the night. As the gala progressed, your ability to function properly in society deteriorated with every free drink from the open bar. Before you knew it, Keeley was hanging off your arm, giggling over a stupid joke that Richard made.

Wiping your tears of laughter from your eyes, you untangled yourself from Keeley, "Okay, I'm gonna go get us some water."

You walked to the bar area, careful not to trip over your own feet. You sighed a breath of relief when you made it to the counter in one piece, "Two waters, please."

You looked to your left and couldn't help but scoff when you saw Jamie beside you. You rolled your eyes, "Prick."

He furrowed his eyebrows, "Are you talking to me?"

It was definitely the alcohol talking. And boy, was it running its mouth. "Yeah, you're bein' a prick."

"I haven't done anythin' to ya," he complained, taking a sip of his water. "What are you callin' me a prick for?"

"Where do I start?" He motioned for you to continue so you did. "First of all, who the hell wears sunnies indoors? There isn't sun in here! And it's nighttime, you don't even need it outside! Oh! And we're in bloody England, when do we ever get sunlight? Sunnies are useless."

He opened his mouth to respond, but you beat him to it, "Second, you didn't have the courtesy to introduce yourself to me. Made Roy do it. Like I get it, you're Mr. Jamie Fucking Tartt. Star Player of AFC Richmond and Golden Boy of the Champions League and gorgeous with amazing hair and I'm just Trent's niece. But would it hurt ya to say hello?"

"Sorry," he mumbled, taken aback by your bluntness. Drunk you could give Jan Maas a run for his money. He couldn't focus on anything else besides the fact that you called him gorgeous.

"'m not done," you continued, taking a deep breath. Ranting about Jamie made you lose your breath, "Lastly, you've been avoiding your teammates, your friends! I literally saw Dani frown! I didn't even think that was possible. You should be ashamed of yourself."

Jamie was stuck staring at you. He hoped you were too drunk to notice the blush on his cheeks. You were wrong about one thing, the sunnies were useful. If he didn't have them on, he was sure you'd notice the way his eyes have been heart-shaped since you first introduced yourself to the group.

He wasn't sure when he stopped being able to talk to pretty girls, but when he saw you approach with Keeley, his knees buckled and suddenly he forgot his own name. He didn't mean to be rude earlier. He wanted to introduce himself but he physically couldn't. By the time he remembered who he was, it was too awkward.

He's spent the rest of the night anxiously replaying the interaction in his head. If he had a sip of liquor, he would, no doubt, yak all over the dance floor so he stayed on the outskirts of the party, dead sober.

Before he could properly apologize for the terrible first impression, you'd already retrieved the two glasses of water from the bartender and began walking toward Keeley.

The day after, Jamie texted Keeley for your number. At first, he tried to play it off as just wanting to apologize to you for being rude the night before, but Keeley could read him like the back of her hand.

She smirked and sent your number over to Jamie.

That's how you found yourself nursing a hangover, cursing whoever texted your phone because it dinged so loud that your headache increased tenfold. When you checked your phone and saw an unknown number, you didn't think much of it at first. You knew you exchanged numbers with a few people last night so it wasn't out of the ordinary to get random texts. But when you saw the follow-up texts, you quickly sobered up.

From: Unknown

"Hi, Y/N. Got your number from Keeley."

From: Unknown

"Just wanted to say sorry for bein a prick yesterday. Promise, I'm not like that."

From: Unknown

"This is Jamie, btw."

From: Unknown

"Jamie Tartt"

From: Unknown

"From Richmond"

You laughed at his texts. Did he seriously think you wouldn't be able to deduce that it was him? You didn't know many Jamies. In fact, he's the only Jamie you knew. Plus, the prick thing gave it away.

To: Jamie Tartt From Richmond

"Figured it was you, Jamie. But thanks for the clarification. - Y/N Y/L/N, Trent Crimm's niece."

That was the start of your friendship with Jamie.

--

"Jamie fucking Tartt!" Your voice boomed throughout the locker room, easily drowning out the hum of conversations that the boys were having. "You're dead!"

A chorus of "oooohs" rang across the room with all the boys patiently waiting to see what Jamie did this time. You and Jamie have been engaged in a month-long prank war. How Jamie managed to be a professional footballer (who is leading the team in goals and plays a large part in the team's 5 game-winning streak) and still have time to meticulously plan pranks was beyond your understanding.

Jamie was halfway done with getting dressed when you walked in. His shirt was still folded neatly in his cubby when he turned around to greet you with a smirk, "Hey, love. Are you wrapped up?"

You couldn't help but let your eyes roam down his chest and his torso. On your scan back up, your eyes stopped at his arms. God, his arms. For the most part, you were able to control your attraction for Jamie, but sometimes, the universe tested you. This was one of those moments.

Jamie bit his lip when he realized you were checking him out. He cleared his throat, breaking you from your trance, "So, you wrapped up and ready to go?"

You remembered why you were pissed at him. "You wrapped my entire car in plastic wrap! How the hell am I going to get home?"

At your explanation, the team chuckled at Jamie's latest prank. You turned around to shoot daggers at all of them. The laughter stopped.

"Someone wrapped your car in plastic wrap?" He faked a shocked face, "That's horrible."

Two can play that game.

"Is that why you invited me to watch training today?" You gasped, acting like your feelings were hurt. You pretended to cry, sniffling as you lowered your head, "Thought you wanted to see me. Whole time you just wanted to prank me."

Jamie's eyes widened. He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you towards his chest as he began to mumble a million apologies, "No, no, Y/N. I did want to see you, promise! I just thought that it would also be fun to pull a prank, but you know I wanted to see you. Always want to see you, love. Please don't cry."

For a while, you forgot you were playing a bit. All you could focus on was that your head was laying on Jamie Tartt's bare chest while his arms were wrapped around you. He was kissing the top of your head and apologizing to you for a stupid prank.

You'd been in these situations before. After a few months of being friends with Jamie, you found that he was extremely touchy and clingy, which you did not expect from him. When he'd come over to hang out and watch movies, he'd end up with his head on your lap while you played with his hair. After games where Richmond won, you'd meet him in the car park when everyone's gone home where he'd run to you, hug you, then spin you around while you giggled and told him to put you down.

But this time was different. You were in front of people who were staring at you. Their hushed whispers, traces of smiles in their voice, brought you back to reality. You pulled away from him, red-cheeked, and stuttering. You saw Bumbercatch from the corner of your eye, sending you a wink.

"Jam," you said, "I'm just kidding. I'm not really upset."

"Oi," he frowned, finally putting a shirt on. "That's not nice. I thought I actually made you upset."

"Well, I am upset because you wrapped my car in plastic wrap." You reminded him. The room started to clear out, the boys bidding you a goodbye as they exited. You waited for Jamie to get his things together before walking out with him. "Can we call it a truce on the pranking?"

"You givin' up?" he raised his eyebrows, "Didn't peg you as a quitter."

"Not giving up," you shoved him lightly, "Just don't want to hurt your feelings again. Seriously, Jamie, you nearly cried and got on your knees when you thought I was upset! Embarrassing for you."

He was about to argue when he saw your teasing smile. He shook his head, blushing. It was embarrassing, really. It was so embarrassing how he was so gone for you. The idea of making you feel bad, even on accident, killed Jamie. He never wants you to be upset.

There was something magnetic about you. No matter how hard he tried-- and he did try-- to stay away from you, or at the very least ignore his romantic feelings towards you, the stronger your pull was. Jamie can't remember the last time he woke up without thinking of you or the last time he went to bed without the thought of you in his dreams.

Ever since the night of the gala, Jamie only fell harder for you. At first, it started out with just finding you attractive. Jan Maas was right, Trent did not mention just how beautiful you were. Even if Trent did try to explain it, Jamie didn't think the English language could do your beauty any justice. As he got to know you, your goofiness, kindness, and gigantic heart, he knew he was a goner.

With you, he could act like a stupid little kid. He can have fun with you, laugh at everything, and do nothing but sit on your couch eating junk food. But he can also be vulnerable with you. He hasn't mentioned all of his past to you, half afraid that you'd run away once you get a deeper look into who he is and what he's gone through, and half nervous that once he lets you in completely, he'll never recover if you ever break his heart.

He wasn't ready to lose you. Not yet. Not ever.

"Let me help you get your car untangled," he offered, opening the door to leave the facility. "Least I can do."

"How the hell did you do this while you were at training? I literally watched you the entire time and you were on the pitch."

"You were watching me?" he asked, looking at you with a glimmer in his eye.

You scrunched your nose, feeling caught. You had a joke ready as a response but it never made its way past your throat. You looked at him, a small smile on your face. You leaned over and placed a hand on his bicep, "Always am."

Jamie gulped, the feeling of your touch making his brain short-circuit. He felt his heart beating out of his chest. He really was pathetic. He backed away from your touch before he could do something he would later regret, "I paid Kenneth to do it while we were trainin'."

Your jaw hung low, a look of disbelief now on your face. Jamie, knowing you too well, sensed that you were about to tackle him and ran away from you. You chased him around the empty car park, with your plastic-wrapped car and his obnoxious sports car as the only inhabitants, while yelling, "I'm going to get you back so good!"

This, you thought, this is a life you could get used to.

--

You shouldn’t have gotten used to it. 

You didn’t know how things changed so quickly. One minute, you were leaning your drunk self on Jamie as you sang a horrible rendition of “When He Sees Me” from The Waitress, the next, he was ignoring your calls and avoiding every event where you’d be in attendance. 

It’s been a week since you last heard from Jamie and you were tired of it. You marched on the pitch, ignoring Roy’s complaints. The boys halted their movements, glancing at each other with worried looks, before staring directly at Jamie. 

“Stop being a fucking prick!” You exclaimed. He huffed, continuing to ignore you. He continued the drills he was doing before you showed up, though none of his teammates joined him. “Tartt!” 

He rolled his eyes, finally stopping to look at you, “What?” 

“Oi! Tartt, Y/L/N, can you settle your lover’s quarrel in the tunnel? We have trainin’!” Roy yelled. 

“Start walking, Tartt,” You weren’t going to let him off the hook that easily. You walked behind him as he made his way to the tunnel behind the coaches. You were really glad today was a closed practice. 

By the time you made it to the tunnel, your initial anger had subsided. You just felt bad. Why did he stop talking to you? Was it something you did? You knew that he was avoiding you given how he just reacted on the pitch. What you didn’t understand was why. 

“What do you want, Y/N?” There was venom in his tone. 

You blinked, not used to that tone from Jamie. “Why’re you bein’ such a prick all of a sudden? What have I done?” 

“Seriously?” he let out a humorless laugh. 

Now it was your turn, “What are you on about? You’re the one who’s been avoiding me and I don’t even know why!” 

“Don’t turn this on me.” He ran his fingers through his hair, messing it up just enough for a few loose stands to fall in front of his face. It took all the strength in the world not to reach over to fix it for him. “You’re the one being cruel and mean. That little prank you pulled.”

“Jamie, what prank?” you took a deep breath, pinching the bridge of your nose with your fingers, “I have no idea what happened! Please do enlighten me!”

“No, I’m not going to recount the most embarrassing moment of my life for your enjoyment.” 

“Enjoyment?!” You yelled, more confused than ever. “I don’t know what you’re talking about!” 

“Right,” he shook his head, looking at you. Tears were pooling in his eyes. He bit his bottom lip before continuing, “You don’t remember being in the back seat of the Uber after karaoke where you were playing with my feelings.” 

“I don’t.” 

“Oh, come off it, Y/N,” he sighed. He shut his eyes, blinking away his tears. “You know how I feel about you. Everyone does at this point! Like, I’m so pathetic when it comes to ya. So when you look at me with that look in your eye like you might actually feel the same way as I do and tell me that you want to kiss me, just to remind me that we shouldn’t because we’re just friends, you’re just being plain cruel. It’s mean, Y/N.” 

You were speechless, which Jamie mistook as another rejection. He continued to ramble on. “I’ve been so in love with you since I met you. I’ve never met anyone like you, never felt this way with anyone. And I haven’t really been discreet about it, either. Even fucking Beard have said somethin’ about how I look at ya. The lads haven’t stopped teasin’ me about you since you showed up in my kit at our first home game.” 

“Jam,” you began, out of breath like the wind was just knocked right out of you. “I don’t remember this happening in the car.” 

Jamie finally looked at you, as if the mist of anger dissipated from his vision. He looked at you intently. Your bottom lip was quivering and your eyes were trying to desperately make sense of the situation. 

“Oh, fuck,” he gulped. He scratched the back of his neck with his left hand, rocking on the balls of his feet. “You really don’t remember, huh?” 

You shook your head, “No, I don’t. I blacked out after I sang that last song.” 

“Now, I feel awkward.” 

“Yeah, you should,” you chuckled. You walked closer to him, reaching out to fix his hair. You felt him stop breathing for a second. He closed his eyes for a moment before opening them back up to see you so close to him. So close. You cradled his face in the palm of your hand, letting your thumb run across his cheekbone. “You love me?” 

The tips of his ears turned pink, “Yeah, I do.” 

“Hmmm,” you hummed, inching closer to him. “For the record, I probably did want to kiss you then even though I can’t remember it now because I always want to kiss you.” 

“Oh?” 

“Yeah,” It was your turn to stop breathing. Jamie placed his hands on your waist, pulling you closer to him. “Also probably only said we shouldn’t because I was too scared to lose you, but I don’t want to be just your friend, Jam.” 

“Don’t wanna be just your friend either.” 

“Well, we should probabl-”

“For fuck’s sake,” The two of you jumped apart at Roy’s voice from the pitch. “Just fucking make out already!” 

You both looked at the pitch to see the entire team, coaches and Will included, staring at the both of you in anticipation. Jamie laced your fingers together and led you inside the facility, the sound of groans and boo’s from the team echoing through the tunnel. You laughed heartily at their reaction. As he was leading you to the boot room, Jamie looked over his shoulder and sent you a shy smile. 

He opened the door and turned the lights on with his free hand, never once letting go of yours. Before you could say a thing, Jamie pressed you up against the wall and kissed you like his life depended on it. You sighed into the kiss, tangling your fingers in his hair, and gave it a soft tug. He grunted in approval, slipping his tongue swiftly into your mouth. As things started to get heated, you felt him smile against your lips, causing you to pull back. 

After you’ve separated, he pressed a soft kiss on your lips, looking as content as ever. He gave you one last peck before giving some space between both of your bodies, “So does that mean that you fancy me too?” 

“Jamie, come on,” you pressed your head on his shoulder, unable to stop the blush from your cheeks from spreading, “You know I love you, too.” 

“Yeah, I kinda figured with how you kissed me.”

“Hey!” you protested, glaring at him playfully.

He laughed, tucking a piece of your hair behind your ear. His hands found your waist again. He was drawing shapes with his thumb on the small piece of exposed skin on your stomach. “I love you.” 

“So what does this make us?” 

“Well, you’re my girlfriend now.”

You pushed him away a bit, raising one eyebrow, “I don’t recall being asked to be your girlfriend.” 

“Fine,” he conceded, “I’ll ask, but it’s going to be so over the top and so ridiculous that you’ll regret that you had me ask.” 

You giggled, pulling him closer again, “Don’t think I’ll ever regret that, Jam.” 

He placed his lips on you again, slowly and passionately. When he pulled away, he had a serious look on his face. “You may not be my girlfriend yet, but I am 100% your boyfriend. I am taken. I’ve already been taken for a while, but it’s official now.” 

You grabbed his face in your hands, placing a kiss on his nose, “Of course, boyfriend.” 

[writeyouin]

Swerve X Reader – Quiz Night

Description: When Swerve is exploring Earth in his holoform, he finds a movie quiz where he meets you and quickly falls in love. Set in a Transformers Prime AU wherein Swerve went to Earth with the Autobots. LIGHT SMUT BELOW THE CUT.

A/N – Okay, so every fortnight, I go to my local cinema’s movie quiz and I’ve had this scenario in my head since I started going to that. I just wanted to write this for me to try and get back into writing on my days off from teaching.

Also, there is a Steve who wins every week. I am determined to beat him just once.

Warnings – MILD SMUT / NSFW.

Rating – M

Swerve looked around the small café, wringing his hands anxiously. He felt all too aware of his holoform, sure that any minute now, every human in the room would see him for what he really was and that his life would turn into a B-Movie wherein the FBI and CIA would chase him down, shooting everything they could at him until he was captured and tortured for information. And why not?

Something similar had happened to Bumblebee before he met Charlie. Why not Swerve too? Then again, the Autobots had a base on Earth now, and Swerve was confident in the use of his holoform… though this was the first time he’d tried it outside his hab-suite in the base.

Then there was the other thing. If Optimus knew that Swerve was wasting precious energon to maintain his holoform all because he just had to get out and see some humans up close- Well, sufficed to say, the big guy would be pissed.

But it was just one night. Surely, Swerve could justify that. Even Cinderella got one night out. Alright. For tonight he would be Cinder-Fella. Or at least he would be if he could find somewhere to sit.

Honestly, when Swerve jumped into the little cinema on the promenade, he hadn’t expected much, he’d just wanted to see it. Then, he headed upstairs and saw that they were setting up a movie quiz, and he just couldn’t resist entering. It was only a dollar to enter and he’d found the occasional bit of cash on the street, so why the hell not?

Yet, as Swerve looked around the café on the second floor, he realised that he was not a part of this community. There were several friend groups, most of who seemed to be regulars and who were riling up the other teams obviously used to the atmosphere, and there were no empty tables, just a few spare seats.

Gathering up his courage, Swerve loped towards your table, seeing that you were the only person on it.

“Excuse me, do you mind if I sit here? I sorta came here on impulse and well- Y’know,” He gestured around at the lack of available tables.

“Oh, sure,” You said agreeably, putting your phone down. “I’m (Y/N).”

“Swerve,” He introduced himself, feeling less shy at your friendly demeanour.

“Huh, unusual name,” You commented, not unfriendly in tone.

“Oh, y-yeah. Unconventional parents.”

“So, no team, Swerve?” You asked, changing the subject to make him more comfortable.

“No, uh, first time. I didn’t even know there was a quiz till I got here. How about you?”

“I had a teammate but she just texted that she can’t make it. So, I guess I’m on my own tonight unless you wanna team up.”

Swerve stared blankly at you. He couldn’t believe that you were being so nice. Then again, you barely knew him. He was certain once you got to know him, you would find him as annoying as the other Autobots did.

Seeing his hesitation, you held up your hand kin a Scout’s promise, “I promise to share any prizes we win.”

Swerve felt his human obsession taking hold and his energon pump thrummed excitedly, “Yeah, that sounds great.”

When the quiz started, you thought you were good at movie trivia, but Swerve shot you out the water. He was even better than the quiz champion Steve, who generally won every week. The only thing Swerve seemed to struggle with was the years movies came out, though that was because Cybertronians measured time differently, and you did well enough at those, getting most right.

“Wow,” You chuckled at the first break between rounds. “You’re insanely good at this. You’re even beating Steve.”

“Steve?” Swerve asked, worried that he was someone you were interested in, even though he had no reasonable claim to be jealous.

“Yeah, he’s the old guy by the counter. He wins a lot, but he’s a good guy. Always shares his prizes. I think he’s just in it for the social aspect, y’know? A lot of people here are. It’s a nice little community. Plus, this is the only thing we have against the big cinema… There’s no heart in that place.”

“No kidding,” Swerve hummed, fascinated by you and your energy. “So, (Y/N), tell me about yourself.”

You smiled, thinking about how comfortable you felt around Swerve. He seemed like a nice guy. You filled him in on a few details of your day-to-day life. In return, he responded with a few facts about himself, though he was sometimes vague, unable to tell you the truth behind his Cybertronian life.

He told you that he was a scientist in a government base; this wasn’t a massive stretch from the truth since he was a metallurgist, using his skills to help the Autobots against the Decepticons, though he stayed far from any battles, generally being a house-mouse.

You were impressed with his work, feeling somewhat overwhelmed by the high-status job. Then, the next round of the quiz began and the two of you were back on the same wavelength as teammates.

The quiz questions were set in a bingo card formation, giving everyone a fair shot at winning, so despite Swerve’s movie prowess the two of you didn’t win anything until the third round, wherein you were awarded two cinema tickets, free to use for any film.

At the end of the night, standing outside the cinema, you held the tickets out to Swerve, “Here, you can take these. You answered all the hard questions.”

“No, no. I can’t take them. I mean, it was your table and you helped a lot, and you come here all the time and I’m just-” Swerve began nervously babbling and you grinned, finding him cute.

You grabbed his hand, handing him one of the tickets, “Alright, fifty-fifty split. But hey, if you’re not doing anything next week, I was gonna come and see the seven O’clock showing of the new fantasy flick. You could join me for that if you wanted.”

Swerve nodded dumbly, thinking how warm your hands felt atop his.

“Great, it’s a date. See you then.”

You walked away with a bounce in your step. Meanwhile, Swerve stayed there, unable to move while he wondered whether you meant a date as in a real, romantic date or whether it was just a turn of phrase. Either way, for the rest of the week, he was quiet and distracted, unable to get you out of his processor.

When Swerve next snuck away from the base, using his holoform once again to meet you he fell in love. This was not the first time he had fallen in love, since he formed attachments quickly, but it was the hardest he had ever fallen, fascinated as he was by your world and species.

The two of you sat down to the film, and Swerve felt his brain freeze when you rested your head on his shoulder halfway through the film, grabbing his hand and entwining your fingers with his. It took him a few seconds before he stiffly let his cheek rest against your hair which was so, so soft.

“I had a really good time with you tonight,” You said quietly as the two of you filed out into the cool night air.

“Me too,” Swerve replied almost giddily as he drank in the sight of you.

You pulled a slip of paper from your pocket, offering it to Swerve, “Here, call me.”

Swerve unfolded the paper, finding your number with a little heart doodled next to it. He flushed red, becoming even more flustered when you pecked his cheek, lingering for a second before you said goodnight and left him there again.   From there, you and Swerve went on several more dates, though he always avoided dinner dates, being unable to eat, and then things between the two of you got serious.

Swerve knew this was wrong. When you’d asked him back to your place, he should have said no. He should have never started any kind of relationship with you in the first place, but now things were getting serious and beneath all the excitement, he was ashamed of himself. What would you do if you knew who he really was? What he really was? Yet that didn’t stop him from sloppily kissing you, listening to you gasp when his erection pressed against your thigh. He was addicted to you and he was being selfish. Worse, as the intimacy built and you gave yourself to him completely, Swerve couldn’t stop himself from saying, “I love you,” repeating the phrase as he kissed your neck, and again when your body was pressed against his, and again as the two of you cuddled afterwards. He held your body against him during the night, stroking your exposed skin while you slept. He loved you. He loved the idea of a relationship with you. He loved that you had said the words back to him that very night. But ultimately, love wasn’t enough. Yes, he loved you in a million ways, but he couldn’t trust you. He wanted so badly to, but after he had betrayed your trust so thoughtlessly, he was too scared that if you found out what he was all of your love for him would evaporate. In the twilight hours, nearing early morning, Swerve received a communication from Prime, demanding his presence back at the base. Swerve sighed. First and foremost, all Cybertronians had a duty to their faction, and though Swerve wanted to put you first, he had to go back. If he stayed out any longer, he would have to explain his many long absences. He was a scientist and his duty was to the Autobots. He kissed the back of your shoulder, took a minute to find a paper and a pen, then left a note on his pillow stating that he wished he could stay but an emergency at work had come up. Then, glancing longingly at you before leaving, Swerve felt one last flush of shame and disgust at himself. No matter how much he loved you, he was using you to make himself feel better, and he knew he wouldn’t stop. He couldn’t.

[thegettingbyp2]

Hello! New to your account but i love your spencer reid x reader!!! 💕

Saw ur requests are open so im grabbing this opportunity to request a jealous spencer reid hehe something like they’ve been friends and then something happened, jealous!spencer appears lmao idk how to explain things lol

Thank you tho! Love lots!

The Way I Love You

Spencer Reid wasn’t someone who inherently hated anybody. But he hated your boyfriend. At first, he thought that it was because the two of you had been best friends for so long, he was the only person you fully confided in, and then you met James and, all of a sudden, everything changed. You’d spend more time with him and then you’d go and see a film that Spencer thought the two of you were going to see together. However, it really clicked for him the first time he saw you kiss him.

Spencer Reid was in love with you. And he hated that James plucked up the courage to ask you out first.

However, the longer you were with James, the more Spencer could see just how one-sided your relationship with him was. More and more, you’d come into work disheartened because he’d cancelled yet another date night and then whenever you’d bring him to the infamous dinners at Rossi’s, you’d be the one trying to sit with him only for him to find an excuse to wander away. It broke Spencer’s heart to see you quickly shake off the feeling of disappointment to follow him, and how you’d be glowing with happiness as soon as he showed you the slightest bit of affection.

It was when you came into the office for the fifth day in a row, with your eyes red-rimmed, that he felt all of the anger and jealousy he’d been feeling for the entirety of yours and James’ relationship bubble over the top.

‘He cancelled again, didn’t he?’ Spencer asked when you sat at your desk next to him, not really needing an answer.

‘Just drop it, Spence,’ you replied, sounding exhausted.

‘What was his excuse this time? Couldn’t be bothered? Too tired?’

‘Spence, please.’

‘When are you going to see that he’s only around when he wants to be, (Y/N)? That he only wants you, uses you when he wants to get his dick wet!’ Spencer’s voice had risen as he spoke and the volume of his voice paired with what he said caused your eyes to widen and to be thankful that the two of you were the only ones in the office at the moment. You’d been friends with Spencer for 7 years and not once had you heard him speak like that.

Not knowing how to respond, all you could think to do was to get up and leave the room. You heard Spencer call out your name as he got up from his own seat to follow you but you refused to turn around. The only thing that stopped you was Spencer’s fingers wrapping around your wrist, pulling you to a halt. ‘How could you say that?’ you asked, your voice a barely there whisper as tears filled your eyes when you looked up at Spencer. His eyes softened and he tugged you into him slightly closer.

‘(Y/N), I’m sorry, I didn’t mean for it to come out like that. I just hate seeing you accept the way he treats you. You don’t deserve to be with someone who loves you like he does. His love’s like a disease, (Y/N), and if you let it carry on for much longer then you won’t be able to step back and you’ll be stuck with him.’

‘Yeah? If he doesn’t love me the right way, what is the right way someone should love me?’ you asked, lowering your eyes, not wanting to get your hopes up.

‘You should be loved by someone who loves you the way I love you,’ he blurted out and your head shot up to look at him. ‘You should be loved by someone who knows how lucky they are to be loved by you. Someone who would bring you flowers just because he saw them and thought of you. Someone who wants to be around you all the time, even if it’s just to sit in the living room together and watch TV and - ’

Spencer’s words were cut off when you stepped closer to him and wrapped your arms around his neck, burying your face into his shoulder as you felt a few stray tears fall from your eyes. As he had been speaking, you’d realised that not only did you want a love like that, you wanted a love like that with Spencer and you felt yourself relax when his arms wrapped back around you like a vice.

‘Ask me,’ you said, your voice muffled by the fabric of his cardigan.

‘What?’ Spencer asked, wanting to be sure of what you were asking of him in order to avoid making a fool of himself.

‘Ask me what you want to ask me?’ you repeated, pulling back slightly to look at him, a small smile playing on your lips.

‘Leave him? Go on a date with me?’ Spencer asked shyly, knowing that what he was asking of you was a lot.

In response, you reached up on your toes and pressed your lips gently to his. ‘Consider him left,’ you said against his lips, making him sigh happily against you as he deepened the kiss.