#but it seems to work out okay using my phone

[chaotic-scraps]

You jokingly called it your little Trash Shrine.

Suspended from the window hung little earrings you'd picked up from the ground over the years.

On the sill, glass jars held marbles, seashells, buttons. A planter grew dandelions, henbit, and white clover. A little vase of blue jay, cardinal, and raven feathers. A decoupage box filled with magazine clippings and pressed flowers.

You were just adding to your little cushion full of yarn bits when you hear skittering on the kitchen floor. Something tugs at your pants leg and you flinch back. A raccoon stares up at you with unnaturally glowing eyes.

The little raccoon chatters and skitters up to the countertop. It promptly sits on top of the cushion you were just stuffing yarn bits into.

"Thank you, human," a voice says in your head.

You jolt. "Y-you're welcome?"

"I truly thought I was all but forgotten," the voice says. "Not many of your kind pay homage to the God of Discarded Treasures."

"Oh, well, I didn't know I was," you say honestly. "I mean, I would have if I did know. You seem like a cool God."

"I am the rain reclaimed from refuse," the voice says. "The rainbows left by gasoline spills. The flavor of raspberries left by castoreum--"

"I'm going to stop you there," you say. "I mean, I can't be the only person who likes to creatively use trash. What did I do differently?"

Silence.

The raccoon turnes and analyzes the shrine, and skitters over to the decoupage box. They nudge the lid off with their nose, and dumps out the little clippings that lay inside.

"It seems you invoked me accidentally," the voice concedes. "The clippings you have in this box just so happen to perfectly match the words to summon me, if left in the right order." It laid out the passage letter by letter.

"Deus Quisquiliae, exaudi orationem meam, benedic mihi thesauris abiectis."

"Well, no wonder no one summons you," you sigh, sipping your tea. "Most people don't speak Latin these days. Maybe some linguists, Catholics, or doctors. God of... I don't know that word. Hear my praises? Exaudi like, exhalted? Benedict Cumberbatch something me something something."

"There are others that would work. Discarded languages. Discarded treasures. The prayer asks that I bless you with the items that deserve a second life."

You took a picture of the Latin phrase in your phone. "Well, I could make this a daily thing. Do you show up every time?"

"Not in ways you might see, but yes."

"Well, okay. Thanks."

In the following days, you find money in the parking lot. A barista offers you a scone they couldn't sell. The persimmon trees drop their fruit as you come near. You find a discarded chair after yours falls apart. You slip down a hill and find a bed of natural clay that you form into shapes and bake in the hot sun.

Perhaps it's not what everyone would consider a blessing.

Some may even think of it as a curse.

Nevertheless, you set aside a little time each day to thank the little Trash God for their bounty.

You are a person who covers your counter space in clutter and inadvertently makes a shrine to a long forgotten god who shows up to thank you.

[httpknjoon]

suspects guilty | ksj

plot | the a-listers join in a tiktok trend (ft. more the a-listers lores).

word count | -

genres | humor, fluff, domestic au

pairing | actor!jin x famous!reader

main masterlist | the a-listers: confidential masterlist

Shot in the spacious backyard of their Massachusetts home, YN and Jin finally shoot their very first TikTok video. Of course, it was YN who asked the other to do it since she found the videos she watched hilarious. So, some time between breakfast and afternoon, the couple walked out to their quiet backyard to do it. All while their twins have their nap.

"So, I'll describe you with something mean and you'll do the same thing?" Jin asked, stretching his right arm over his chest.

You nod, "Yeah, we'll basically roast each other. But we'll start with the phrase: The suspect is. You know, like when cops look for their suspects."

"Okay, bub. I'm ready," he replied, this time, rolling his shoulders.

Your eyebrow raised while watching him warm up his body. A routine he usually does before working out.

"Why are you acting like you're about to run a marathon?" you scoffed.

The first one to be shown in the camera is Jin, in his favorite green hoodie, running while your voice can be heard in the background.

"Suspect claims to be a responsible drinker but posted his personal cellphone number online when he was drunk." Giggles were in between your words when you said that.

Jin stopped, "That was years ago! It was one time."

You laughed as he defended himself, remembering the time you witnessed Jin's manager stressed out the morning after Jin shared his phone number through Instagram Stories while Jin was guiltily nursing his hangover. It was around the time you two were doing press junkets for your second movie.

"Suspect had a very public crush over a co-worker when she was fourteen."

Jin grinned as you stopped from jogging. Your jaw dropped while the cringy memories of your past came running back to you.

"Oh my god! Stop bringing that up. It's embarrassing."

Everyone knew that you loved musicals, especially the movie Hairspray with Zac Efron in it. So when you were younger, you were never shy about expressing your adoration for the actor, mentioning him in interviews in teen magazines and television talk shows a handful of times. He was kind enough to surprise you one time during your appearance in Ellen. You were telling a behind-the-scenes story to the host and audience when Zac quietly walked behind you and sat next to you. Everyone laughed at your flushed reaction when you realized who was sitting beside you. Your hands were even shaking when he introduced himself to you. Up until now, you still see GIFs and memes of your reaction online being used in various contexts.

Before moving to the next clip, your husband was heard whispering under his breath, "It's cute."

"Suspect thinks he is slick every time he's shy. His red ears always give it away!"

Jin stopped and laughed at that, so hard that his hands are on his knees. You didn't stop, zooming the camera to his ears that are slowly turning crimson red.

"See! See!"

"Suspect claims to be a writer but has three thousand unfinished drafts in her computer!"

You stopped in your tracks and slowly looked back at the camera. Staring, you crossed your arms while acting really offended by that. Jin laughed at your dramatic reaction.

"That was personal, Jinnie! How could you say that?" you shook your head, feigning disappointment. "Writer's block is a worldwide issue. You know, five out of five writers get affected by it. It's a real problem."

"Suspect acts so innocent but likes to be called---"

"No! No! No!"

Jin stopped you before you could even finish your sentence. His tone seemed panicked. The camera was later focused on the ground while you two were heard whispering.

"We cannot share that online, bubba. It would generate articles."

"It's not like it's a bad kin---"

It was cut off to the next clip.

"Suspect called me the wrong name during our first and second date."

This time, it's your turn to laugh so hard that you fall on your knees on the grass. Jin was also laughing after mentioning that time.

"It was two different names!" he added, making you laugh even more.

To be fair, the names were his characters' names in two different projects he worked on. One is for his Netflix series and the other was his character's name in your second movie together. It was an honest mistake by you since you were really tired at both times it happened. Jin too. You two would just sneak in your first few dates in between your tight schedules.

"The suspect cannot tell his children apart."

Your husband was clearly taken aback by that, maybe dramatically offended. Knowing it was true, he didn't even deny it.

"That was only a few times--"

"Specifically, nine times!" you counted, trying not to laugh.

His eyebrows raised as he crossed his arms, "It was those days when they wore the same matching clothes."

"One is a boy and a girl, Jin," you told him, reminding him that your twins wear different colors of the same type of clothes.

"They are identical twins, bubba. You know that I have bad facial recognition!" he whined like a kid while you laughed.

"Suspect ghosted everyone for almost two years."

Although you stopped jogging, you just put your wrists together like you are surrendering, willing to be handcuffed. You walked back to him as you spoke,

"The suspect is guilty. She said she regrets nothing over it. She is happy with the choices she made."

Jin smiled upon hearing that. He remembered you two talking about your plans to have a hiatus in the middle of your piling projects. It was after you learned you were pregnant. As soon as you made sure that you indeed were, you immediately thought about taking a break since you already had your priorities straight. It was not just a decision you made in the spur of the moment. It was something you promised to do before you even met Jin.

As someone who grew up in a complicated family, you wanted different things when starting your own. You were willing to literally drop everything, leaving movie projects that you were dreaming of working on.

Jin wanted to do the same thing, so he could be with you. But you encouraged him to just finish his remaining commitments at the time. He was in a more tangled situation since he already started filming for those projects and couldn't afford to stress everyone with a sudden leave.

"Oh, bubba. I love you." he whispered.

He was about to lean in to give you a kiss. But you spoke,

"I love you too, si--"

"No!"

You laughed as he walked back to your house, enjoying his flushed reaction over your jokes.

note | unedited. not a comeback. this is just a random blurb in my head. sadly, I haven't written anything for months now. i feel bad leaving a lot of my works here on a cliffhanger but idk when will I update again. but thank u so much for reading and being here :)) hope ur having a great day.

THE A-LISTERS: CONFIDENTIAL TAGLIST

@xiumo @joonsbvtch @firesighgirl @qualityjoonie @lojocas @txtlyn @yoontaethings @zwiehe

PERMANENT TAGLIST

@dunixxd @cixrosie @jksjx @embrace-themagic @buttvi @starbtslove @missseoulite @vanntaesworld @kenqki @imajinthis @stopeatread @seolaquotes @greyrain23 @chimchimmarie @petalsofink @jayhope88 @moonchild1 @laylasbunbunny @nikkiordonez12 @misshale21

[saddled-on-stars]

Hellooo, may I request something Keatlejuice x reader ?

I was thinking of something inspired from the “do you think I’m qualified” scene from the first movie and basically the idea is: Beetlejuice keeps flirting with reader, which hasn’t been very successful so far… But at some point his voice switches back to his “normal” one and reader pauses because since when does he sound so good??

He notices the reaction and kind of uses it to his advantage to make reader swoon hehe

Thank youu :))

okay- don't mess this up, don't mess this up, don't mess this up... HI THERE MY LITTLE LOVELY CONSTELLATION! Okay, full disclosure, I've never watched either of the Beetlejuice movies. I don't really know how the model exactly works, so I'll make it to similar to the musical; where you just find him on the roof. (I HOPE THAT'S OKAY, DARLING) So yeah, I've never watched either of the movies... I KNOW THE PLOT OF THE FIRST ONE THOUGH, AND I WILL EVENTUALLY WATCH THEM BOTH I SWEA- As far as Keatlejuice goes, I don't know a thing about that scene, and nothing came up when I looked it up, so I'm just going to go off of what you typed. 😀 Please feel free to criticize if it's inaccurate. OKAY, HERE YA GO, LOVELY <3 Happy reading! - Star ★ -★-★-★-★-★-★-★- Trigger Warnings: Explicit Language, Suggestive Themes, Mentions of Break-Up -★-★-★-★-★-★-★- Key: ★ (Y/N) = Your Name ★ (L/N) = Last Name -★-★-★-★-★-★-★- - ★ - Spooky Smooth - ★ - Lying on your bed, listening to some music, it's about 2am. You have your earbuds in, connected to your phone, and are wearing some comfortable shorts and your favorite hoodie. You begin fiddling with the drawstrings, thinking of who gave it to you, then you frown in sadness. It was given to you by your now ex-partner, and they were a jerk. A TOTAL JERK. It all ended at dinner last night. But you hung on, and you still can't figure out why. But that's not why you're sad. You're angry and upset and heartbroken all at the same time, for letting yourself believe that they loved you. It crushed your heart into billions of pieces when they repeated to you that you just weren't good enough. They weren't the first ex, definitely not, and so, as usual, you thought they were the one. You poured your heart and soul into that relationship, only to have your heart shattered. You saw them in the bed with that fucking chick from some cheap-ass bar. You were so angry that you did things to them that you weren't proud of. You impaled all four tires on their small old Nissan Versa, to be specific. You wanted to do so much more, but your heart couldn't take it, and it crushed you in the most tragic way possib-

You drift back to reality as you hear something shuffling above you. It sounds like it's coming from the attic or the roof. You assume it's some sort of critter, and almost fix your earbuds back into your ear, until you hear something... sobbing, perhaps? Sniffling? Letting your curiosity get the best of you, you push your earbuds back in, still listening to the sad, yet comforting music, and you climb out of your window onto the roof. You climb up to the top, and quickly find yourself captivated by the stars. It seems to ground you for the first time you've felt content in a while. You pause your music, hearing something else. It's the sound of a small flyer blowing in front of you. Curiously, you grab it, wondering what it might say. Betelguese - The Bio-Exorcist. Speak my name three times. Betelguese? Like the star? Eh, sounds strange, and this flyer seems pretty aged and old. But how'd it get up high on the roof? You consider calling whoever this 'Betelguese' person is. If they're a bio-exorcist, then they could get rid of your nasty ex. After all, that bitch has some shit comin'. "Bettle-goose, Bettle-goose, Bettle-goose." You close your eyes, expecting something crazy to happen, but the only movement and sound are the stars twinkling and the crickets below chirping. You suddenly see another flyer blow by, and you pick that one up as well. Beetlejuice - The Bio-Exorcist. Speak my name three times. Now you understood. Whoever this person is, they must be here, and so, you put your earbuds back in their designated case, preparing for what's to come. You hold your hoodie in a self-hug, bracing yourself and you begin: "Beetlejuice, Beetlejuice, Beetlejuice." You close your eyes once again, fearing that something large might happen that might spook you, but instead you hear a raspy voice say, "It's showtime~" Suddenly, a giant puff of green smoke appears in front of you, and you're slightly startled, but your curiosity overpowers your fear. Standing there before you is some sort of creature? No, this must be the Beetlejuice guy. He's in a black-and-white striped tuxedo, complete with some typical black shoes. Though, it's all dirty, covered in green spots from here to there. His hair is a pale green, sticking out in all different directions, and his eyes are surrounded by black circles, and you can't tell if it's a fashion choice or not. "Hiya, Babes!", he says, his voice still raspy and rough. "H-Hello..", you reply, slightly still startled. He comes over and sits on the roof in front of you. "So, I heard ya' called m'name three times! Tre!", he says as he's holding up three fingers, his fingernails looking a little overgrown. 'He knows Italian? How strange...', you think. He puts his elbows on his knees, and lays his head on his hand, in a relaxed position. "So what's a pretty lil' thing like YOU doing, callin' a bio-exorcist?", he says, his eyes filled with flirtation. Damn. Straight to the point, you guess. "I-I've had my heart broken by some bitch, and I need you to get rid of them...", you say, while trying to avoid eye contact, as you can feel your eyes show your anger. His other hand comes up to his face as well, until he's resting in both of his hands. "Well then, who's the bastard, and we can make a deal, Babes! Don't worry, I don't bite-", he says as his hands come back to his knees and he leans closer.

"Unless... if you're into that sort of thing, Babes..", he says as he winks, his voice suddenly changed. It's no longer raspy and rough, but DAMN, it's smooth and gentle. You feel your cheeks flush, definitely flustered from his flirtatious remark. "I- uh, uhm-...", you stutter, trying to find the words to respond. He chuckles at your reaction, and he replies to you stuttering, "So, what do ya say, Babes? Wanna make a deal with the devilishly sexy?”.

He's so close to your face now, it's almost burning with electricity. You nod slowly, not knowing how else to respond. You've been holding your breath for a long time now, but your lungs are far from their limit. He winks, and brushes your thigh with his hand, and snaps his fingers. You release the breath you've been holding, as you realize that he's dissappeared into a cloud of smoke, leaving you breathless. "Damn, that voice..."

- ★ - Written by Saddled_On_Stars - ★ -

[stusbunker]

Spotless: Portato

Chapter Thirty Seven

Featuring: Dean Winchester/Reader

Other characters: Pamela, Charlie, Jesse, Benny, Kevin and Sam

Word Count: ~3250 with other media

Warnings, etc: Mutual pining, still unbeta'd, Tricia did read through the first scene, but all mistakes are still on me, Dean goes to confession, our reader's self esteem overrides all logic and prodding.

Series Masterlist

There have always been certain women in your life that you just didn’t click with. Some you wanted to, badly. Others you admired from afar, too shy or self conscious to really try to form any kind of bond, be it professional, educational or friendly. There were some you wanted nothing to do with. 

And then there was Pamela.

She was someone you had always admired, still slightly feared, but had resigned yourself to maintaining a simple and mildly judgemental, professional relationship. So when she woke you up, hungover and definitely disheveled as you were, on the bus to Phoenix, you were wary.

“Hey, sorry, but uh— could you come with me? Please?” She looked a little spooked and not exactly as apologetic as she sounded, but you nodded and tried to rub the sleep out of your eyes.

“What’s going on?” You said quietly, aware of all the other people around you as you shuffled after her to the actual bunk room in the back of the bus. Except no one back there was even asleep.

“Tell her what you told me. Or everything. Whatever comes last.” Pamela seemed pissed as she snapped at Dean and a sudden dread flooded your senses.

He sat on a bottom bunk, fingers rubbing over his lips in consideration as he glared at Pamela’s demands.

You knew something was up with the buddy system after the last show, but neither you nor Charlie had found anything substantial online. Which left in person or direct phone call threats. You’d been with the band long enough to have seen some shit, from overzealous fans to crazy ex’s and even a few stalkers. Benny’s team didn’t mess around when something had weight behind it. Outside of Vegas, you thought it was over.

By the look in Dean’s eyes, it was worse than you had guessed.

“Who died?” Was possibly the worst thing you could have said to Dean, by the journey his face went through.

He just gaped at you before Pamela dove back in.

“Wait— did someone actually die?”

“Will you let me speak for my damn self?! Christ, Pammy. Sorry, Trouble, this is not how I wanted you to find any of this out. Sit down.”

“Oh boy.”

There wasn’t any furniture back there and it felt oddly intimate to sit next to Dean on a borrowed bed like that. Every other bed was too far away. Instead, you slinked down to the floor and popped your knees up in front of you, like a child during circle time, but with something to hold onto.

“What’s going on? Is this about that guy outside of Wednesday’s show?”

“Kind of.”

Pamela exhaled and uncrossed her arms. “I’m gonna go– I don’t think I’m needed and it’s just gonna rile me up if I hear it all over again. But I’ll be up front if either of you need me, got it?”

“Good call— and, uh, thanks.” Dean looked up at her. Pamela nodded and left you and Dean alone.

The air grew thick and you had to get something off your chest before Dean got into whatever had Pamela so on edge. “Are you okay?”

Dean sighed and picked at the seam of his jeans. “I thought I was, you know? I’ve been putting in the work, but being back there, and then seeing Alastair— Having Cain at the fucking show. Really messed with my head.”

“Who are they?”

“Well, you’ve heard about Cain, Cain Charles. I used to box at his gyms all the time.”

You nodded into the pretzel of your arms.

“Well, I wasn’t really boxing— not most of the time. I was fighting in underground MMA type bouts. And Alastair, the slimy looking dude outside the first show? He was my trainer.”

Dean let that sit, but it didn’t take long for the pieces to start to fall together.

“The bruises— I remember how you were always hurt or stiff all the time.”

“Yeah, don’t miss that one bit either.” Dean rested his elbows on his knees and looked down at you, hunched as if he’s expected to get yelled at.

“So, what do they want? Why’s Benny got the guys on high alert?”

“Me.”

It was almost comical the way your mind looped around that simple word. Lots of people wanted Dean. And you couldn’t blame them, but those connotations didn’t quite fit the conversation so far.

“For what?”

“Back in the ring, at their beck and call, probably licking their boots while I’m at it.”

You straightened up, urgency starting to get the better of you. “Dean, I need more information here. Were you, like, an indentured servant? Do you owe them money? Why are they after you for real?”

“No, I, uh— I was there willingly. Started off with a fight at a club and when one of the goons came over to break it up, the guy didn’t kick me out. Instead he gave me a card, told me I had ‘promise’.”

“So you just decided one day to be a cage fighter? Being a rockstar wasn’t enough or something?” You balked, trying to figure out what drove Dean to that place. 

“Look, I’m not perfect, okay? And neither are you, so please, let me explain myself a little?”

You folded back in on yourself. “Yeah, of course, sorry.”

“No, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it like that— just give me the benefit of the doubt here, at least in the beginning.”

You twisted your fingers in front of your lips and tossed an imaginary key behind your back. Dean huffed out a laugh and cleared his throat.

“So, uh, do you remember before the fourth album we were kind of burnt out and Pamela and Lee were going through the last divorce and Bobby was kind of still AWOL because he’d just gotten married himself and Sam was fine by then and Adam was getting all those scholarships and shit?”

“You’re talking, like, almost back to the summer before the shit with Cas, right?”

  “There abouts, yeah.”

“Okay, vaguely. I remember being busy, Zacarriah had just been promoted and he was doing a lot of poking around. So I wasn’t doing much with you guys in person— since it was between tours.”

“Yeah, makes sense. Charlie and I played a lot of Call of Duty that break.”

“Okay?”

“I just— I was low. And then, finally, we got back into the studio and I could do something, be useful. I was able to sort of bury the darkness.”

“But it didn’t go away?”

Dean shook his head.

“Fast forward and I get this mafia-looking dude telling me I was worth more than just what my dad wanted me to be.”

“Dean—”

“It’s okay. I’ve been over that with Missouri too, just sayin’ why it was such a compliment.”

 Dean rubbed his palms against each other and kind of looked behind you as he kept talking. “So I checked it out, the fights were underground but not, like, dirty. I mean, they fought dirty as hell, but I didn’t feel like I was getting an STD just by walking in.”

“Okay, so you’re no Tyler Durden. What made you stay?”

Dean rolled his eyes.

“The rush of a fight. And you know— I’m hard up for praise— it’s why I love the spotlight and the fans. But it wasn’t like it is with the band. I didn’t even have to work as hard at it as I do with the music— it was only me up there. I didn’t have to answer to anybody else. It was just my hands and the other guys’ that I had to worry about. No harmonies, no compromises. It was easy. And I thought it made me free.”

Dean didn’t meet your eyes, he looked at the wall behind you or the floor. You had never seen him so ashamed, or so outright confessional.

 You inched forward, the need to comfort him tingled along your arms and into your useless hands. “What made you stop? Besides the last tour, obviously, you couldn’t be in two places at once.”

“Uh, so, Cas must have been following me because there was one night where it got really bad. I got really bad— just pummeled a guy to the mat. They— there’s not really refs, more like bouncers to hold back the crowds. But it took three of them to haul my ass to the showers. Cain has doctors on retainer, nobody was gonna call an ambulance and rat the place out. But, he wasn’t moving the last time I got a look at him.”

Dean looked up and into your eyes.

“I still don’t know if that guy is okay or anything. That was my last fight before we hit the road. And Cas called me out, eventually. Let me stew with the unknown and the guilt for a good month first. I didn’t know he needed me. He had his own shit with the kid and stuff then. I just thought— I don’t know. Anyway, you probably got a good handle on what happened after that.”

“So, they’re blackmailing you? Cain and Allistair?”

“Alastair.”

“Him.”

“No, but they’re watching you. They know— they know everyone I care about. Cain thinks I’m letting you guys save me from my true nature. He’s big on instinct and fight or flight crap. But he’s very logical about it all. Alastair—,” Dean blew out the breath he had been holding and dropped onto the floor in front of you, back against the drawers beneath the beds. “He’s a fucking sadist. He wants people to hurt, it’s not just about power—- it’s torture.”

You swallowed. “Don’t you think we need to go to the authorities? They sound dangerous. Really dangerous.”

Dean shook his head. “That’s not an option. Cain is too good, his business is airtight. Nobody talks or walks away. That’s why he’s so insistent. He thinks he can bring me back.”

You didn’t want to know, but you needed to know, so you asked, “do you— would you?”

“No. Not anymore. I’ve come too far. There’s days when I think about it. When it would be easier to just be the beast again. But I’ve got too much to lose. I have the band family, Charlie, Gibson, you—- So no, Trouble, I ain’t going back.”

You smiled at him, softly, not really letting him see how that sent your face burning with all the worry still hanging in the air.

“How can I help? Do I need to enlist Charlie and get our devices better hidden? Change reservations to keep people off our trail? The tour is set, we can’t cancel any dates—- but we can be more careful.”

“Uh, wow, I guess check in with Bobby and Benny? They’re already on top of things, but more eyes on it couldn’t hurt. I— is there anything you want to know? I feel like you’re taking this really well. Like instant problem solving mode. Not even flinching over what— the things I did.”

Dean leveled you with an unimpressed glare and cleared his throat. “Hit me. I can take it.”

It was your turn to roll your eyes as you resituated your legs and propped yourself up on your right hand. “It’s a lot, you know? We knew you were struggling. And we all had been on the receiving end of your temper enough to know not to poke the bear.---- But, I guess, it’s nice knowing, for sure. Like there was something there—- Someones there holding you back, keeping you from us. I’m sorry you had to go through that all alone.”

Dean bumped your knee with his. “Don’t need your pity. But, maybe, your forgiveness. Because I was fucking rotten to you—- more than once.”

“You sure were.” You looked him dead on.

“You’re a part of this band. Whether we say it or not. Even Kevin knows you’re in charge.”

“Pam’s in charge, she just lets everyone run things,” you quipped, an old Bobby line.

Dean chuckled. “Fine. But I am sorry for the things I called you. And how much I leaned on you after Sam and Bobby pulled my head out of my ass.”

“Don’t be.” Dean gave you a face. “Okay, the first part, yes. Be. But the after– that was— it meant a lot. It gave me something to look forward to. Made me feel like I was doing actual friend things instead of work things. Kind of miss the calls— the check-ins. It was a good part of my routine.”

“Yeah, me too.” He sounded so soft, like a favorite blanket waiting for you on the back of the couch. He was right there spilling his guts out and all you wanted to do was crawl into his lap and tell him it was going to be alright. 

You stayed put.

“Thank you— you’ve been— Christ, I couldn’t have done this without you, you know? You pulled me through— in so many ways.”

“Of course. You’d do the same for any one of us. Hell, you did it for Sam more times than I can count.”

“Yeah, but he’s my kid brother. It’s not the same.”

You hummed. “Yeah, but still. Anytime.”

“Hopefully not too soon.”

You huffed a laugh. “Agreed.”

You stretched and sat up on your knees, groaning at being on the floor for so long. “Okay— well, we’ve got like an hour before we get to the hotel. Do you need anything from me before we get to our rooms?”

Dean shook his head and stood up, quickly leaning down to help you the rest of the way. “I should be good, but yeah, check with Benny for the details. And, please, just watch out for Donna and the girls? They’ll be guarded, but I don’t want them thinking we’re neglecting them while we circle the wagons for our own.”

“On it.”

Dean put his hand on the ball of your shoulder and squeezed. You cupped his forearm and caught his weighted stare. It was like he was looking for something behind your eyes, or something there confused him, but either way he didn’t mention it. Instead, he just squeezed your arm again, gave you a guilty smile, and headed back to the front of the bus.

Charlie was invested in Operation Anti-Fight Club, her words not yours. Once you explained, very briefly, what had been going on, she immediately fell into a rabbit hole online. You even had to drag her out of her hotel room to get her to the venue in time for rehearsal the next morning in preparation for the Phoenix show. 

Somehow, she got sound and lights set up with a new venue in what felt like a flash, but was really two hours of back and forth with the band setting up cues and verifying the setlist. 

So when she started texting you during SPS’ set that night, about your conversation with Dean, you were a little worried she was distracted again.

You didn’t reply. From the moment you told her about Dean’s little heart-to-heart she had been asking leading questions and giving you knowing looks. Too worried she was either teasing you or getting your hopes up over nothing, you tried not to overthink it. Sure, Dean had broken things off with Bela with someone in mind. And it maybe, kinda, sorta seemed like he was waiting for you to do something before he left the bunkroom yesterday. But you could have been reading it all wrong. 

It was an emotional conversation.

It didn’t mean he wanted to kiss you.

Right?

Right.

Except now all you could think about was New Year’s. And how you wished you were sober enough to really remember what Dean’s lips felt like against yours.

You had never let yourself want him, not truly. You couldn’t help loving him, you were only human. But admitting to yourself that you wanted him and wanted him to want you back was a death sentence. There was no hope after that. There was not a chance Dean Winchester could be with you, or even someone like you. 

So why were you letting yourself think about it now?

You weren’t, you decided, and made small talk with Jesse instead. 

“You excited to get some days off at home next week?”

“You know it. I miss ridin’, miss sleepin’ somewhere far enough out, the city lights don’t keep me up.”

You smiled and nodded, you grew up somewhere close enough to the country to know what he meant. “Well, one of these days you’ll have to let us swing by. I’d love to see your land.”

The hulking man looked so fond as he reasoned out an uncertain invitation, “well, Matty keeps the place running while we’re on the road, so I’ll have to ask him how’s it all looking for the whole band to swing by for an afternoon. If not this trip, definitely after the tour.”

“Fine! But I won’t forget you said that.”

He chuckled. “Of course you wouldn’t.”

You turned back to the stage as Jodi wailed on their cover of ‘Crazy on You’. Donna was front and center giving it her all. You were once again mesmerized by their talent. Some people were just unreal, having both beauty and brains, strength and kindness. That old, familiar hollowness inched up your throat and twinged the corners of your eyes. You were surrounded by amazing people and all you could do was hover in their shadows. You were a supporting character, you could never exist at that level.

You were a fool to think you ever could.

SPS was phenomenal and they finished their set to whistles and cheers from both the fans and those of you in the wings. They beamed as they marched off stage, heading back to the dressing rooms for a breather before the main event. You cheered them on, knowing you were doing a bad job of masking the way your thoughts had plummeted. Luckily for you, Jesse was a professional and he said nothing as he ducked away to help with PT’s set up.

You rolled your eyes and punched out an annoyed ‘fine’ in the chat. You didn’t want to think about Dean singing about somebody at that moment. What you wanted was a stiff drink and maybe a foot massage. You thought about pulling up your hotel’s amenities, but were caught off guard by Sam and Kevin bellowing your name like a pair of foghorns.

“TROUBBBBBLLLLLLEEEEEE.”

“TRRRRRRRRRRROUBLLE!”

You turned while still looking down at your phone. “Uh, what’s up?” 

But as you glanced up, you got silly string-ed straight to the face. 

“MOTHER FUCKERS!” That had you spitting out air because the foamy substance had grazed your lips. Yuck! With one eye open you charged the overgrown idiots, forcing them to run behind the closest obstacles, gear cases and Benny, respectively.

Benny muttered over his shoulder to a crouching Kevin, “it’s your funeral, cher.”

“Thanks, Benny,” you huffed out as you dodged around the head of security and almost had a hand on Kevin’s collar. “You little shit!”

Kevin cackled as he ran away, too worried about busting your shit in your concert heels, you watched him go. Sam was smart enough to leave quietly amongst the fray, but you promised yourself some revenge down the line. You even knew who you could enlist for help, the last person they would ever expect…

Tagging:

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@mrswhozeewhatsis

@cosicas-cuquis

@fics-pics-andotherthings-i-like

@suckitands33

@ladysparkles78

@deans-baby-momma

@stoneyggirl2

@sassy-pelican

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@spxideyver

[spacejammie-eimmajecaps]

The first three scenes of chapter 30 are basically done, two more to go

[fingertipsmp3]

Friendship ended with google sheets, now filofax is my best friend

[onlythebravest]

.

[inbabylontheywept]

she was dead silent on the drive home, but that was okay. sometimes, after band practice, she was just out of words. it was a short drive to her house. the only part where it actually felt weird was after i pulled up her parent’s driveway. 

after that, the silence stretched so far it smeared and left a weird residue. she kept looking at the car door like she wanted to leave, so i looked at the door too, then she looked at me, and i looked at her, and my first thought was that she was going to tell me that the door was stuck. i was used to that car always doing some damn thing. it was the car me and all my siblings had learned to drive in, and it was really beat to hell. there were dents all over the body, which we’d unsuccessfully tried fixing up with spackle. it had looked nice for maybe a week, but then the sun wrecked it - the spackle cracked up like the mud on the bottom of a dry riverbed and turned a sort of off yellow-white that made the car looked like it had been molded out of chicken shit. it also had a bullet hole it through the cabin that whistled like a toothless old man whenever the car went above 40, so loud it could drown out the radio, and a cabin that smelled so strongly of bugspray that even the arizona summer we drove everywhere we could with the windows down.

(if you have kids one day, you will maybe, possibly, begin to understand how much i loved that car.)

anyway, i was thinking about what else could possibly be wrong with the chickenshitmobile, and she just kept looking at me, and then i wondered if there was something on my face, and she just kept looking at me, and then the penny dropped and i realized she was trying to work up the nerve to break up with me. 

now, i’d seen her work up the nerve to do things like this before – it could take quite a while. and knowing it was about to happen made the waiting immediately unbearable. 

so i said hey. 

and she looked at me, very startled, and said hey back real small. like she’d been caught. and in a way, i suppose she had. 

and i said it’s okay. you can just say it. i’ll be okay.

i’m always okay. 

and she said: i’m really sorry. 

i loved her, you know? it was highschool, but teenagers are capable of love. the way people love changes over time just as much as the way they stand, or the way they talk, but things don’t stop existing just because they're different. opposite really – a thing only stops changing when it's fully gone.

and i said, nothing to be sorry for, and i meant it. she looked a little relived, and i was happy to give her that peace. then she left. i watched her make it through the front door, because that was just habit at that point, and then i sat there a while afterwards, checking how i felt. and the answer was not good, but good enough to make it home. good enough to limp on. 

so i put my car in reverse, took my last look goodbye, and immediately backed into her neighbor’s car. 

crunch. 

air bags didn't go off, which was good. i left a decent dent in the bumper of the other car. genuinely couldn’t tell if i did anything to my car – anything wrong with it just kind of blended together into the general ecosystem of hand mottled, sun cracked, chickenshit spackle. 

i checked my glove box, and my car insurance info was, of course, out of date. my phone was dead too. as a teenager, my phone was less my lifeline to my friends, and more my tether to my parents, so i wasn’t particularly conscious of keeping it charged. both my fault.

i sat there a few minutes, trying to think of the best way to handle things, and there was only one answer i could think of, and i hated that answer, so i spent a few more minutes trying and failing to think of a better one, and then a few more coming to peace with what had to be done. 

then i went back to knock on my now ex’s front door. 

her dad opened, which i was very relieved over, even if he seemed less than thrilled. he looked me over, and in a firm, but slightly apologetic way said: she does not want to see you right now. 

(i think he assumed i was going to try and talk her out of the break up?)

and i said not here for her. i just backed into your neighbor’s car, and i need to call my dad, but my phone’s dead. could i borrow yours?

and he looked at me, then back at his neighbors car, which sure enough was dented, then he looked at the chickenshitmobile, and if there was something wrong with it, it just kind of blended into the general Wrongness of the car, then back to me, and i could see him imagining the last ten minutes from my pov: getting broken up with, backing into a car, having to walk up to your exes door and borrow a phone, calling my dad to tell him that i just reversed into someone.  

and his expression shifted from stern and apologetic to truly sad, which felt more kind that i deserved. things only got here because i kept fucking up - forgot to look behind me, forgot to replace the insurance forms, forgot to charge my phone. it was my mess, but his sympathy meant the world to me. i probably would’ve cried if he said sorry, or patted me on the back or called me sport, but instead he said

stay out here – i’ll bring you a phone.

and then he left.  

i found a nice spot on the lawn in the shade under a sycamore, then settled into his grass.i was trying not to freak out, and was doing an okay job. he came out a minute or so later, not just with a phone, but a juicebox and a jar of green olives, which really threw a wrench in the whole try not to cry thing. soon as i saw those, a few tears squoze out. i was still hoping i could pass them off as Manly Tears but then he told me that he’d gotten the olives a few weeks before and had been meaning to hand them off to me, and that this was his last chance for that. then i made a sound like a horse drowning in a bog, and he patted my back pretty rough, four solid thumps, like he wasn't sure if i was crying or choking on an olive, and was trying to cover both bases at once.

then he went back inside, and i made a few more bog horse noises while finishing off the rest of the entire jar of green olives, and then i called my dad.

he was about ten minutes away that day, and luckily was home. he drove over, and we went to the neighbor’s house, and from there things actually went quite nice. the neighbor was a retired man who actually said he could fix the dent himself, no need for insurance. he said he appreciated that i didn't just drive off, and i said i was really sorry about his car, and he said he was really sorry about my car, and then he gestured to the chickenshitmobile and i laughed because it really was a disaster on wheels.

then we left.

i thought we were going to head straight home, but instead we went to a gas station, and we both got several slim jims that we folded into thick enough coils that we could put them on a hotdog bun because the growing up mormon equivalent of having a sad brewski with your dad is just choosing to make bad decisions sober. then he took me to the canals and we watched the sun turn all orange and pink, and he looked over at me and said:

brains are good at remembering bad days. so you gotta make sure that a bad day has a good part in in, so you can remember that too. remember that when you have a kid. try to do a good job on days like that - they're going to be a big part of how they remember you.

and then he gave me a big hug and said he was never going to eat another slim jim again.

---

the year after that i went to college, which kicked my butt in new and exciting ways. and on a lot of those bad days, after a test that went sour, or a faux paus that was particularly embarrassing, or some other hardship of my new adult life, i’d stop by the gas station and pick up leathery, half jerkied hotdog before heading to the canals to watch the sun set. i’d take a bite and imagine my dad next to me, grimacing through the slim-jim wad, asking what good thing i was going use that time to remember. 

and in my head, i’d say you, dad. 

i’m going to remember you.

[eddiesxangel]

1-800-HOT-TO-GO | E.M

Anonymous asked: Can i request a fic where either the reader reveals during a pizza and beers hangout she was a phone sex operator for a brief time and everyone is shocked and one of them jokingly asks if she was any good and she whispers something dirty in their ear and it changes their friendship

Cw: fem!reader, allusions to male masturbation, dirty talk 1.7k words

“Come again?”

“I used to work a sex hotline,” you shrug like it was no big deal.

“No way,” Eddie shakes his head. “I don’t believe you.”

You hear Steve and the others giggle around you, also in disbelief.

“Wanna bet?”

“Try me.” He wants to call your bluff because no way in hell did he not know this about you. You always were reserved when it came to talking about sex; you never had you seemed promiscuous.

You hold up your hand to your ear, pretending it is a phone, and Eddie follows your lead.

“Ring ring,” he giggles.

“Hello.” You changed the pitch of your voice to be more sultry.

“Hi,” he smirks.

“Can I get a name, handsome?”

“ Eddie”

“Mmmm, hi, Eddie. I’m Candy.”

“Candy?”

He breaks character, but you don’t.

“the boys say it’s because I’m so sweet.” You fake giggle.

“This is my first time calling. I’m not sure what to do here.”

“That’s okay, I’ll walk you through it… you want to get comfortable for me?”

Eddie looks around the room at the others, who are trying to stifle their giggles. This night was supposed to be chill, with pizza and beers. He wasn’t really sure how you all ended up here.

“I’m comfortable.” He says without actually moving.”

“I wish I could see; you sound so sexy.” You sigh.

Another giggle leaves Eddie’s lips because who is this person who’s taken over your body?

“Yeah? you wish you could see be, Dollface?” Playing into it more.

You lean in to whisper so only he can hear it this time. “oh yeah, big boy; I bet your cock is already nice and hard for me. Such a good boy, I want you to fill me.” You sit back, take a loose tendril, twirl his hair around your finger, and watch Eddie’s eyes widen at what you just said.

“Oh-okay, that’s enough.” He chuckles, trying not to give away how turned on he just got. “I believe you!”

You sit back with a giggle and grab another slice of pizza like nothing just happened.

Everyone looked at you with shock.

Eddie quickly gets up and excuses himself to go to the bathroom.

“What did you say?!” Robin begs.

You shrug in response like it was another day at work… which it has been.

“Damn, is it hot in here?” Steve pops the collar of his shirt.

“You guys need to loosen up, my god.”

While you were still enjoying your pizza, Eddie was having a crisis. Never had he thought of you in that way until moments ago, listening to those filthy words slip from your lips.

“I bet your cock is already nice and hard for me. Such a good boy, I want you to fill me,” your words replayed in his mind while he tried to fight the blood rushing to his stiffening cock.

He can’t go back out there like this. Eddie splashed cold water on his face to try to snap him out of it, but it didn’t help.

A quick rap on the door startles Eddie out of his inner monologue.

“You okay, big boy? You’ve been in there fifteen minutes.” He hears you laugh from the other side.

Had it really been that long?

Eddie’s issue had not been resolved; in fact, it had worsened as he tried to push down the thought of you naked and spread out for him… talking to him like that.

“Yeah-I-uh- just a minute.” Eddie wanted to pull his hair out at how frustrated you had made him.

You were just pals, bubbies, amigos.

You weren’t attractive… were you?

Eddie never thought to look at you in that way; you’re just a friend, always had been, always will be… unless?

The more Eddie thought about it, the more he realized he did think your hair looked really pretty tonight. The way you always did your makeup really brought out your beautiful features…and when he got a whiff of your delicious perfume when you twirled his hair, he thought his.

“You sure?” You try to jiggle the door handle, but it’s locked.

“Shit,” Eddie curses under with breath.

“Come on, Ed, talk to me, please?”

You hear the lock unlatch and watch the doorknob slowly turn as Eddie pokes his head out.

“Hi,” he’s short and sounds a bit out of breath.

“I hope what I said didn’t make you uncomfortable.”

Ed saw the worried look in your eyes.

“No! Well, I mean, yes, but…no.”

“Yes, but no?”

Eddie let out a deep sigh. He didn’t see a way out of this. He stepped aside to let you in and shut the door behind you.

“Eddie?” You look up at him.

“Hm?”

His eyes snap to your concerned face.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t think it was a big deal! It did it all the time for work; I just… I don’t know. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay.”

“No, it’s not. clearly, I overstepped a boundary-“

“You’re not the only one.”

“What do you mean?”

Eddie moves his strategically placed hands to reveal the tent formed in his jeans and watches as your face falls into amused shock.

You cup your mouth to stifle an unexpected giggle.

“That’s not the reaction a guy wants when he shows a girl how turned on he is.”

“I’m sorry, I just!-didn’t think?”

“It’s okay. I’m just trying to get rid of it, but it’s not going away.”

“You mean?”

“I’m waiting it out.”

“Oh, ok.” You nod awkwardly.

An awkward silence washes over the both of you as you try so hard not to stare at his crotch.

“Don’t worry, I’m not going to ask for your help if that’s what you’re thinking.”

“I wasn’t!”

“Ok…”

Another very uncomfortable silence settled between the two of you as you fiddled with the hem of your shirt, trying to do everything in your power so as not to look down.

“I um… I guess I’ll just.” You point to the door that he’s blocking.

“Uh. Ok,” he nods and steps to the side.

You close the door behind you but don’t leave. You lean against the door and take a deep breath, trying to make sense of the evening.

Why did the thought of turning Eddie on excite you? He’s a friend. Just a friend. I always had and always will be.

With a deep breath, you go to push yourself up off the door, but before you’re able to, you hear your name being moaned from the other side of the door.

You froze. You knew you should move, but your feet were locked in place. More heavy breaths and the sound of muffled moans seeped from under the door gap, and you pressed your ear to the door.

Eddie was jerking off because of you… and you liked it?

Eddie bit back screaming your name as he finally released himself into the bathroom tissue. Finally, he could return to rejoin everyone without being physically uncomfortable.

He discarded his release, tucked himself back in, washed his hands, and unlocked the door, but he was ambushed when you fell onto him when he went to open the door.

You let out a squeak as you lost your balance, falling into Eddie as the door was opened from under you.

“Woah,” Eddie catches you before you’re able to fall. His rage hands wrap around your biceps, gripping tightly to brace your fall.

“Were you spying on me?”

“Oh god, sorry” you’re so embarrassed. The whole evening has been one shit show. You scramble to find your fitting to create space between you and Eddie.

“You were spying on me!”

“Shhhhh! Keep your voice down.”

“You totally were spying on me!” He accused.

“You’re the one who moaned my name!” You defend.

Eddie’s cheeks reddened.

“You’re the one who said all those… things!” his hands flailed.

“You’re the one who egged it on!”

“So!”

“So?”

“Yeah, so!”

“Woah, guys, what’s going on here?” Steve pops his head around the corner.

“Nothing,” you both glare.

“Ohhhhhkayyyyyyyy,” Steve turns a heel and walks back to the kitchen to grab a drink.

“Eddie,” you sigh, “I don’t want to argue. This is dumb, and we can pretend it never happened.”

“We could, but I gotta know.”

“What’s that?”

“Did you like it?” He took a step closer, filling the gap between you.

“What?” You look up at him.

“I asked if you like listening to me?” he brushed your hair behind your shoulder.

You gulp, not expecting Eddie’s demeanour to switch on a dime.

“I… I don’t know?”

“I think you did, and you’re too scared to admit it.” You can smell him. He is so close to you.

“Eddie, what are you doing?” You watch as he leans in closer.

“Just trust me.” His hands find the back of your neck, pulling you close.

“Eddie?”

“Let me try something.”

“Kay,” you whisper.

Eddie’s lips graze yours ever so lightly before he presses them fully.

A million and one thoughts run through your mind as Eddie kisses you.

You blame the cheap beer for letting this happen. You blame the beer for liking it. You blame the beer for kissing him back. You blame the beer for the tongue slip and the beer for how you wanted to moan when he pulled away.

“Woah”

“Yea woah,” you repeated dumbly.

“um… did you like it?”

“Yeah… did you?”

“Yeah.”

“cool… now what?”

“go out with me,” Eddie states confidently.

“Like a date?”

“what else would it be?” He chuckles.

“I don’t know?” You shrug, embarrassed that Eddie is getting you all flustered.

“You’re cute when you don’t know what to say.” He smirks.

“I’m cute?” You never thought hearing Eddie say those words would send butterflies fluttering through your tummy.

Eddie doesn’t answer verbally; he leans in to kiss you again to confirm his statement.

“We should get back to the others.” You sigh as you pull away.

“You didn’t answer me.”

“You didn’t ask me anything.”

“Yes, I did. I asked you out.”

“No, you said go out with me. That’s a statement, not a question.”

“Are you kidding me?”

“No,” Yes, you were totally messing with him.

“Will you go out on a date with me?”

“Just say yes! You’ve been gone for half an hour!” You hear Robin yell from the living room.

“Robin!” You hear Steve scold.

“What?”

You can’t help but laugh and can’t believe the next world’s coming out of your mouth.

“Okay, I’ll go out with you, Eddie.”

[honeypiehotchner]

Juno (Hotch x Fem!Reader) -- one shot

Hello again! This goes from zero to 100 in two seconds flat don't @ me!! Sabrina's new album came out and reawakened something in me (everyone say thank you Sabrina) (also this is not beta'd I wrote this in a short n' sweet haze)

Summary: Aaron is working from home but what paperwork he needs to do is the absolute last thing on your mind.

Warnings: smut! 18+ only! this is so filthy! in no particular order: multiple orgasms, cockwarming, choking, brat tendencies, stoplight system, unprotected sex, breeding kink (briefly), face fucking, overstimulation

WC: like 3,400 I lost my damn mind clearly

You’re not sure what’s gotten into you. Blame it on period hormones (probably) or the fact that Aaron looks absolutely delicious right now in his tight black t-shirt (most likely), but you’re going to go insane if either of you have clothes on for another five minutes. 

The problem is, Aaron is trying to focus. It’s one of his days where he works from home, an idea you gave him when you realized how easy it would be for him to do the same paperwork just from the comfort of your living room. It was a brilliant idea at first. You got to see him more, and were able to do your own thing around the house while he did his work. You got to have lunch together, and offer a genuine mental break in between his mountain of paperwork. 

Now, though, you can’t find it in you to give a single fuck about whatever needs to be signed, who needs to clear what, and what phone calls he still needs to make. 

“Honey,” you call sweetly from the kitchen. You watch him from over the island, your thoughts going all sorts of ways -- namely, deep into the gutter. “Want to break for lunch?”

You see Aaron shake his head, still typing furiously on his laptop. “It’s not even noon yet.”

“Brunch?” you try again, walking out of the kitchen. You lean against the doorframe, crossing your arms over your chest in the way you know he loves because of the view it gives him of your cleavage. And you’re wearing a v-neck shirt today for that exact reason, too.

Aaron still doesn’t look up. “I’m sorry honey, maybe in an hour?”

You let out a huff that you know he hears because he finally looks up, eyebrows raised just so. It’s a look that you love. Curious, veering toward that playful annoyance that you can’t seem to go a few hours without his undivided attention. 

Which, you can, by the way. You’re more than capable. It’s just that right now, it’s a crime that his eyes have been looking at paperwork when they should be looking at you.

“Are you okay?” he asks, and there’s some hesitation in his voice. You know he’s assuming the worst. That you’re not okay mentally, and that’s why you need him to take his lunch break now or maybe for the rest of the day. He’s done it before on your darker days.

But you’re okay. You’re perfectly fine. You’d just be even better if he put the damn laptop away and put his fingers to use somewhere else.

Which is exactly why you come to a stop in front of him and reach forward, tilting his screen down and down until it closes. He lets you.

He lets you take his laptop and put it on the table beside the couch. He watches you, his fiery brown eyes taking in every second. He lets you straddle his hips, your arms circling his neck.

“I see now,” he smirks, his hands finding their rightful place on your waist and squeezing lovingly. “By ‘lunch break’ you mean…”

“Put a baby in me,” you blurt, rocking your hips against his.

He stills, his hands making you stop your movements, too. His eyes are darker now in a way you haven’t seen in a while. “What?”

“Please,” you say, leaning your forehead down onto his, trying to move your hips again. “Need you.”

“Honey, we can’t have--”

“Yes I know the semantics, Aaron,” you mutter, now annoyed and lifting your head to glare at him. He has a vasectomy, you get that. “I mean fuck me like you’re putting a baby in me.”

His hands squeeze again. “I see.”

You frown. “Don’t tease me.”

“I’m not,” he smirks, one hand leaving your waist to stroke your cheek. “You’re adorable when you’re horny.”

You roll your eyes, peeling yourself off his lap. He lets you go, albeit with a curious look. You turn and head for the bedroom.

“Where are you going?” he calls out after you, still with that damn smirk lacing his words.

“To get myself off,” you reply in a deadpan. “Since someone--”

You don’t have a chance to finish your sentence before Aaron is right behind you, hands on your hips, spinning you around to face him. That look full of fire is back again, stern this time.

“Did I say you could do that?” he says in a low tone.

“Did I ask?” you retort, backing out of his grasp and darting into the bedroom. 

Now there’s a smirk on your lips. It’s quickly approaching shit-eating grin territory, which you know will only egg Aaron on further. This little game of cat and mouse happens to be your favorite, and he knows it.

You’re barely two steps into the bedroom when Aaron is attached to your back yet again, this time wrapping his arms around your waist, locking you in.

“Color?” he whispers, his lips right at your ear, sending shivers straight down your spine.

You groan. “Green. Neon green. So green, I need you to--”

He spins you again, this time backing you into the wall and attacking your lips. Finally, you think, though you know you’re in for it now. The thought has a grin crawling up your lips, and you’re unable to stop it.

“What’s so funny, hm?” he scolds, moving his lips to your neck instead, to the exact spot he knows makes you weak in the knees. Like clockwork, he has to wrap an arm around your waist to keep you upright, your knees buckling when he bites down just so.

“Nothing,” you manage through a moan, tipping your head back onto the wall. “Shit.”

“You’re ridiculous sometimes, you know,” he says, but he’s smiling against your skin. “Can’t let me focus on work because you need me to fuck you.”

“In my defense,” you try, your hands scrambling for his shoulders, for something to ground you. “You didn’t fuck me this morning.”

“I fucked you last night,” he reminds you, as if you needed the reminder. It’s the reason you slept so soundly. “Was that not enough?”

You can’t help it; you laugh. 

He lifts his head, raising an eyebrow at you. The same question as before on his lips.

“Sorry, I thought you were joking,” you say. 

“You’re insatiable.” 

“Guilty,” you grin, grabbing his face and pulling him back in for another kiss.

You make out against the wall for too long like two teenagers behind the bleachers at school. You hook one leg around his hips, pulling him in and grinding against his obvious erection. It’s enough to have him groaning into your mouth, pressing you against the wall with renowned vigor. 

You can feel how wet you’re becoming and fuck, neither of you have even taken a single article of clothing off yet.

Aaron notices, one hand traveling south without you paying attention, too busy relishing the way he licks into your mouth, stealing your every breath. The kissing becomes increasingly sloppy when he works his hand into your leggings, under the waistband of your underwear, and into you.

“Oh my god,” your back arches against the wall, pushing his fingers deeper. He doesn’t bother with one, starting right away with two, curling them when you grind harder.

“You’re soaking my hand,” he practically growls into the next kiss, adding a third finger after only a few thrusts. Your body accepts it willingly, always ready for him. “Jesus.”

“More,” you gasp, pushing him deeper. “Aaron, more, I’m serious--” Your words break off as he scissors his fingers, making your eyes roll back instantly.

“I can feel you already,” he smirks against your cheek, pressing a kiss there, an action so sweet and gentle compared to what the rest of him is doing. “Come on, honey. You’re cumming as many times as you want.”

That makes you inch closer to the edge at a frightening speed. He says you can cum as many times as you want, but what he means is he’s going to force as many orgasms out of you as he can. Until you tell him to stop or he decides you need a break. 

The thought of being an overstimulated mess in his embrace later has you climaxing against his fingers, your head falling onto his shoulder as his movements never cease, milking every last wave out of you. 

You lift your head in search of his lips again, which he willingly gives to you, his fingers slowing to soothing strokes as you whimper into his mouth. You’ve only had one orgasm and you already feel ruined. He can tell the way you tremble against him, so he checks in once more.

“Green?” he whispers, kissing your forehead.

You nod. “Green. You?”

He smirks. “Absolutely.”

He picks you up into his arms, inelegantly tossing you onto the bed behind you. You giggle as you bounce on the mattress, tugging your shirt over your head as he does the same to his. His hands move for his belt and you practically jump to the end of the bed, swatting his hands away.

“Since when is that your job?” you frown up at him, unbuckling his belt without looking.

He laughs, petting your head gently. “So sorry, you’re right.”

“What was that?” you tease. “I don’t think I heard you.”

“Don’t push it.”

“I have no idea what you mean,” you smirk, pulling his belt out of the loops and tossing it somewhere. You don’t wait for him to reply before you unbutton his jeans, yanking them down with his boxers.

There’s just something about his dick. You hate that you love it, or maybe you don’t hate it at all. All you know is you need it in your mouth right now.

So, you do that, without any warning. Aaron thrusts forward into your mouth on pure instinct, not expecting you to wrap your lips around him so soon. You slide down the edge of the bed onto your knees, pulling him back to you by his thighs. 

You take your time, pushing his jeans and boxers down further. When you pull back for air, he steps out of them and kicks them elsewhere, returning to you quickly, knowing better than to keep you waiting. 

You swallow him down again, moaning around him in the way you know he loves. It takes all of two seconds before he gently holds the back of your head, asking silently for permission that you were already about to grant. You look up at him, batting your eyelashes as you squeeze his thigh twice. Go ahead.

The thing about Aaron fucking your face is that it took a while for him to do it as hard as you really wanted. He’s always so gentle, a quality that drew you to him initially. You love how gentle he can be. But you love it equally as much when he is rougher with you.

Like now, when he has you pinned against the bed, one hand on the back of your head as he fucks into your throat. It’s blissful, quite frankly, the way he feels, and you thank the universe every time for your lack of a gag reflex. 

He holds you there with a deep groan, and you feel him twitch in your throat once before he pulls you off entirely. You frown up at him, once again not getting what you wanted, but he doesn’t have any time for that.

He picks you up by your armpits, hauling you back onto the bed. Your leggings and underwear are gone in a single second, along with your bra. He’s crawling up your body and crowding your space before you have a second to protest that he wasn’t down your throat for near as long as you wanted him to be. 

All frustrations leave your mind the second he pushes inside of you, immediately sliding home, his hips flush against yours. 

It’s a feeling you’ve grown to love, the way he hits you so deep. Another thing it took him a while to be comfortable doing.

He’s not average sized by any means, and you’re the first to admit it made you salivate the first time you saw. The first time he fed himself into you and worried that he was hurting you, meanwhile you were clawing his back because you wanted more. It hurt for a moment, only an uncomfortable pressure because he was bigger than your vibrator, but as soon as you were used to the size of him, you wanted all of him.

He stays there, deep in you without moving for a moment, grinding against you. His lips attack yours again before he pauses to lean his forehead on yours, trying to catch his breath.

“You drive me crazy,” he says on a shaky exhale.

You wrap your legs around him, thrusting your hips up to take him a little more. His hips stutter, pushing in the way you wanted him to, the way you know you can make him do involuntarily.

“Fuck,” he bites out, turning his attention to your neck again.

You thread your fingers through his hair, tugging. “Exactly. So why aren’t you moving?”

He nips at your neck. “Because if I move, I will cum right away.”

“Who said I only want you to cum inside me once?”

He groans again, fingers digging into your hips as you circle them, though he doesn’t try to stop you. “Greedy” is all he says, but he finally moves.

The thrusts are slow at first, Aaron clearly trying to pace himself. You can’t say you’re doing the same, already chasing your second high as he slams his hips into yours. Your hand reaches down to rub your clit, but is promptly smacked away by Aaron’s hand as he glares at you.

“Since when is that your job?” he echoes you from earlier, only this time, there’s more heat to it. He grabs both of your wrists, pinning them above your head to stop any other temptation. “Not this time.”

His thrusts pick up speed and depth, his body moving against yours in the exact way that makes you fall apart. It’s not often that he doesn’t let you cum from added clit stimulation -- not that you can’t without it; it just makes the high feel that much better -- but sometimes he does. It’s an ego trip for him as much as it is for you.

It also adds an unpredictable nature to it, which is why your second orgasm takes you by such surprise. You seize against him, your hands doing all sorts of squirming to try to break free of his grasp, but he doesn’t let you, and he doesn’t let up. You don’t realize why until you feel the warmth spreading into you as he reaches his own peak. 

You’ve clearly worked him up as much as you worked yourself up because his thrusts barely slow down, and he doesn’t soften inside of you. 

Instead, he pulls out only to flip you on your side, sliding in behind you and pulling your leg up and back over his hips. The action causes some of his cum to spill out of you, but you don’t have any time to focus on that before he fucks back into you. 

You’ve ceased to have any coherent thoughts as Aaron whispers dirty nothings into your ear, one arm wrapped around your body to keep you pinned against him. The pleasure doesn’t stop and at one point, you question if your second orgasm stopped at all or if it has continued this entire time.

Aaron reaches underneath the pillow where he knows he’ll find one of your vibrators because he heard you using it this morning. No, he didn’t fuck you this morning, but you fucked yourself, and truly, at 8am, he should’ve known you’d end up like this by eleven. 

Your mind doesn’t register what the sound means until the vibrator is pressed against your clit. Your body jerks, scrambling for some grounding, your hands finding it in wrapping them around his arm. 

He switches hands on the vibrator, so one hand is free to wrap around your throat. Your eyes roll back as soon as you feel the gentle pressure, your body practically going limp against him. 

“Come on, sweetheart,” he murmurs directly into your ear, his thrusts slowing to deep strokes. “You’ve got a couple more in you.”

“A couple?” is all you manage to say, your hand squeezing his wrist so he knows to squeeze your throat a little more.

“Mhm,” his voice rumbles in your ear, sending goosebumps all over your body. “Is it too much?” His question is laced with just the right amount of pity that makes you shake your head against him. “I thought so,” he replies, switching the vibrator to a higher setting.

It sends you into your third orgasm instantly, squirming violently against him as he pushes into you deeper. He knows how much you love that, and loves how much you squeeze around him as he slides inside, fighting against your muscles that threaten to force him out. You’ve done it before, a mesmerized look on his face and yours when you both realized what happened. Since then, you told him you liked it more when he fought to stay inside. 

He takes the vibrator away as you calm down, his hips also pausing, keeping himself deep inside you. The pressure is soothing, and you take a moment to take a deep breath. His palm falls away from your throat, instead propping underneath your cheek.

It takes a few seconds before you feel yourself spasming around him. He chuckles against your back, pressing a kiss to your neck. “Still?”

You nod dumbly, rocking your hips again. “Yeah. I don’t know, I just-- Need more.”

“I’ve got you,” he soothes, pulling out again to roll you onto your stomach instead, one of your favorite positions.

You’re floating as you settle into the pillows, letting Aaron manhandle you wherever you need to be. You groan in your happy, blissed out state as he slides home again, draping himself over your back.

He is gentler now, knowing that’s exactly what you need at this point. The last orgasm he pulls from you is just as gentle, and he pushes deeper into you, letting you ride it out. 

He pulls your hips up and thrusts once, twice before he’s spilling into you. You didn’t realize he was that close again. The warmth is soothing this time as it spreads through you. 

Aaron leaves you only to settle behind you, spooning you once again. Your hand reaches behind you to find him, and he catches your wrist. 

“You need to rest,” he chides softly.

“I know,” you whimper. “Need you inside me.”

“Okay, okay,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to your neck as he slides in again, still half-hard, but it’s enough. You settle down as soon as the weight of him is tucked inside you again. “Better?”

“Mhm,” you sleepily nod, pushing back into him so he holds you tighter. “Do you have to go back to work?”

He chuckles against you, sighing. “No, I’m done for the day, I think,” he says. “I’ll tell them you weren’t feeling well.”

That makes you laugh. “We need a better excuse.”

“Or I need to go back to working in the office.”

You roll your eyes. “Like that’ll make a difference.”

He shakes his head, his mind remembering the same memories that you are. The many lunch hours when you went to eat with him, and ended up with your back pressed into the couch, his tie stuffed in your mouth to keep you quiet.

“Go to sleep,” he says, pulling you impossibly closer. “I’ll make us lunch when we wake up.”

“Perfect,” you smile, nuzzling into him. “Love you.”

“Love you too, honey,” he says, pressing little kisses to your neck and cheeks, wherever he can reach. “Now sleep.”

You’re already halfway there. The combination of him nestled inside of you and the post-orgasm exhaustion is enough to lull you into a restful sleep.

[januaryembrs]

YOU WERE LIKE AN ANGEL TO ME | Spencer Reid x Sunshine!Reader

Request: my DARLING @avis-writeshq says- i’m a menace but i ADORED the spencer fic u posted 🥹 UGH THEYRE SO CUTE YOUR HONOURRRR 👹if it’s okay, may i request another fic with the same couple 🙈 perhaps one day reader is not as sweet or chirpy as she usually is, or she gets injured or threatened in the field? much love and lots of kisses xoxo 🫶

Description: Spencer swore he wanted to hate her. She was too happy, too chirpy, too much for a guy who spent months rotting in prison. But how could he ever hate her when she cried in his chest like that?

Length: 5k (I'm feral for these two)

warnings: post prison reid. Angst. depiction of suicide from the Unsub. gory language used. guns mentioned. mention of $nuff video and other murders. Nothing that hasn't been done on CM already.

authors note: if y'all want to see more with these two just SAY because I am all ears I would die on this ship

There were a lot of times in his time at the BAU that Spencer had wished he could have changed the outcome of their bad guy, surprisingly enough. There was the time they found their UnSub a few minutes too late, and one of the victims fathers decided to take him out then and there with a shotgun to the head. He was just a kid. There was the entire time he was with Tobias Hankel, and he lived in a state of both fear and sympathy for the boy trapped in his own body after years of abuse. There was Nathan Harris, the kid who had stopped him at the subway station and practically begged him for help to stop his urges to murder, only to slit his own wrists before Spencer could get to him because he thought he was tainted. 

He could see how it was easy in their job to get wrapped up in saving the day, in saving everyone they could. He just had hoped, on some stupid grace of a god he didn’t even believe in, that she would have at least remained untouched by the bad luck. 

Spencer had always thought, since the first day he had arrived back into the office after his stint in prison, that she seemed to just waltz through life easier than anyone else. He knew the concept of luck was not quantifiable, that it was just a coincidence that good things happened to some people, and bad things happened to others. He always grouped himself in with the latter, because what was his entire life if not one bad hand of cards after another?

Part of him had been seething with vitriol jealousy when he first met her. He hated how the elevator doors seemed to open without hesitation for her, no waiting required. He hated how her hair never seemed to fall out of place, while his required primping and preening to upkeep. He hated how she was always so happy, whether it had been she’d been given an extra cookie at the bakery for free, or her coffee had just tasted super delicious that morning, or the road works clogging the city had been put on hold the one day she needed to drive into the office. She was one of those people, he had decided, that life just seemed to smile down upon, and she beamed back in that dazzling grin. 

He felt sick to his stomach for ever wishing it gone, especially when she looked like she might never smile again. 

They never liked to say that they had easy cases and hard ones, all of their cases were difficult to process. But this one had been a handful above the rest. 

“UnSub has been killed on site, all units stand down,” Luke said into the radio, and the entire squadron took a sigh of relief, all of them except him. 

Because he saw that look in her eye, the way everything sparkly about her seemed to have vanished.

They had been following Bobbie Wrids for a week. Five bodies in, five men shot between the eyes execution style, almost six by the time they’d arrived on the scene. 

She’d gone with Tara around the front of the abandoned building; Penelope tracked their newest victim, Henry Frond, through his phone pinging off the nearest satellite towers, and it had been straight forward from there. Or at least it should have been. 

Because by the time Spencer and Luke arrived in their own SUV, Penelope had time to access the rest of Henry’s phone, and it was clear to see the victimology behind all six men. 

They were distributing snuff videos of women, some between themselves, some to other usernames on the darkweb, and Bobbie Wrids’ daughter had been one of them.

Bobbie had become somewhat of a vigilante, but he was a grieving father above all. He was a wounded animal chomping at the bit to soothe the ripping pain of his daughter's murder, the same one those men were getting off to. 

Tara and her exchanged a glance as Penelope relayed the information over their headsets, her once serious expression falling into something sombre and sorrowful. How could she arrest a man she couldn’t help but feel sorry for, one she couldn’t help but think wasn’t entirely wrong in his actions. 

“Bobbie Wrids,” Tara’s voice was stern, cutting through the silence of the desolate building. Their footsteps were careful as they made their way through the hallway, down to what had once been a rec-room, or perhaps a staff room, where they knew Bobbie had Henry, “This is the FBI, we’d like to talk,” 

They heard nothing, and she looked up to the older woman hesitantly, her finger hovering over the trigger the way Spencer had taught her. Tara took a minute, knowing she was leading the charge here with the girl being so inexperienced, before she nodded to the door knob and the rookie twisted the handle, pushing the peeling wood open gently. 

Bobbie Wrids stood in the centre of the room, moth eaten couches either side of the damp rug, the ceiling tiles half caved in from wear and tear. Henry Frond was already a pulp in the UnSub’s arms, and yet it was Bobbie that her eyes shot to first, sympathy shooting through every fibre of her being when she saw the distraught look on the father’s face. 

He was grieving. He was grieving his little girl’s death. He was looking for a solution, and this seemed to be his best bet. 

“Bobbie,” Her voice was shaky, her and Tara frozen in the doorway as the man brought the pistol to Henry’s beaten face, cocking it towards his temple before they could even explain themselves. “We’re going to come in, is that okay? We just want to talk, just let us talk-”

They had only edged closer by three paces between them as she was speaking before his knuckles turned white and he squeezed the gun tighter to Henry’s skin, the barrel contorting the flesh, “Don’t come any closer, this pig isn’t worth your mercy,”

“We know,” She said, her and Tara slowly stepping over a fallen ceiling tile, cracking under her boot as she met his desolate gaze for the first time, his head snapping to her. “We know what he did, Bobbie. What they all did.”

His throat bobbed, his bottom lip quivering and the sight of it, a man so broken, forced a frog into her oesophagus, and she willed herself not to cry. 

“They hurt my little girl,” Bobbie choked out, his face turning mauve as the tears began to build behind his eyes, “She was my girl. She was only eighteen.” 

She nodded, his wetted hues seemingly permissive when she stepped closer to where he held Henry hostage. 

“I know, I’m so sorry for what happened to her,” She said, her voice croaky, unstable as she wrenched it into something audible, “I’m so sorry,” 

“He doesn’t deserve mercy, none of them did,” Bobbie spat, his forearm crushing against Henry’s trachea in a vice-like grip. The man floundered, a wheeze coming from his lungs, not that she felt much sympathy for him. 

She sprung into action, flicking her gun onto safety and holstering it, Tara doing the same as she lowered her weapon to her side. He profiled as a vigilante; he had no reason to hurt them. 

“Bobbie, listen, I know they didn’t deserve to walk free, okay?” She said, taking the smallest step towards where the men stood, “But she wouldn’t want this for you, would she?”

The man flinched, his jaw hard as a rock with how he clenched his teeth together, as if holding back a sob. 

“Come on, Bobbie. Let him go, we have enough evidence to get him sentenced. We can get you a plea deal, I know a good lawyer,” She begged, because she wasn’t beneath it, because she knew he was a good man backed into a corner, “Please,”

Maybe it was the way her eyes were soft when she looked at him, or the fact two more agents burst into the room from the hallway, Spencer’s eye immediately falling to where she was stood so close to their UnSub, her gun out of hand. Tara stood by, but that wasn’t good enough for him. He edged with light footsteps until he was behind her, his gaze cautious, never leaving the gun in Bobbie’s hand. 

“Please,” She repeated, and Spencer saw Bobbie’s shoulders drop, every sliver of resolve draining from his body at her gentle tone, a deer approaching a hunter. 

Henry was thrown to the floor, the man practically dead weight as he gasped, almost retching at the feeling of air sucking back into his chest frantically, and Luke and Tara were quick to wrestle him into cuffs, the woman reading him his Miranda rights. 

Spencer almost made a grab for her then, because she was still creeping forward towards the man who had a loaded gun still live in his hand. He didn’t care for one second that the statistics said Bobbie wouldn’t lay a hand on her since she wasn’t part of his list. He didn’t care that every sign pointed to their UnSub being benevolent towards women, especially younger ones, that she fit his daughter’s description. Spencer didn’t care, he wanted her as far away from that gun as possible. 

His heart lurched into his throat when Bobbie did in fact make a lunge for her, just not the way he’d feared. Because she had grabbed him. She’d pulled him into an embrace, a hug, kind and sweet as she always was. 

Spencer cursed her for being so soft. It was going to get her killed. 

“Agent,” His voice was terse, worried if you dug a little deeper than the sharp surface, but she didn’t listen to him. She held Bobbie tight as the man unravelled on her shoulder, falling into heart breaking sobs and it was then Spencer realised she was crying with him. 

“It’s going to be okay, you’re okay,” She was shushing him, the killer, reassuring him he was safe, as if the killing thing wasn’t still between his fingers that clutched at her back with rough hands. 

“They killed my girl, they took her from me, and then they laughed about it,” He wailed, and she nodded, squeezing him even tighter if that was so possible, “No one would listen, the police didn’t listen, I had to do something,”

“I know, I know, I’m so sorry,” This was wrong. She wasn’t supposed to be sympathising with the criminals. But she couldn’t help it, she couldn’t help the gasping urge to comfort the man who had lost his whole world, “I’m listening. Tell me about her,” 

“She was so beautiful,” Bobbie whimpered, sniffling into her shoulder. Spencer felt his chest twinge at the scene. He hated that she was so soft. “She never hurt a soul,”

She cried with him, though hers were choked down as much as she could get them, her wet cheeks the only proof she had ever let them slip. 

“I’m sorry,” She said again, because no matter how many times she repeated those two little words, it would never bring his daughter back, “I can help you,”

He pulled away from her shoulder, and it was only then that Bobbie Wrids even noticed Spencer, his face taut in anxiety as he watched the man’s hands still holding onto her body as if she was the only thing that kept him upright, which Spencer wouldn’t be surprised if it were true. 

He fished the cuffs out of his back pocket, his finger never leaving the trigger as he stared down at their UnSub cautiously. He knew he may be being cruel, knew that ten years ago he would be just as caring as her. But that Spencer was long gone. And what remained was screaming in terror that she was in the line of danger, that she was holding the danger in her bare hands like she didn’t see the jeopardy she was putting herself in. 

Bobbie pulled away to look at her, the creases around his eyes deep chasms, and even with the smattering of grey hair, the stubble, the cold, empty look of someone with nothing left, she thought he might have been a handsome man once. He looked at her with a ghost of a smile, and one of his callused hands came up to tuck her hair behind her ear as if it had been second nature to him for eighteen years. 

“You’re a sweet girl,” He murmured, and she blinked at him, her chest easing at the way his wails had subsided into something quiet. She could help him, she swore she would help him. He was a good man beneath it all. “But no one can help me anymore, sweet girl,”

And with that he lifted the pistol beneath his chin and pulled the trigger.

—

She heard someone scream before she realised it was coming from her own throat, but her ears were ringing and she couldn’t open her eyes. Her face was wet and hot, and for a second she thought it was tears, but she was beyond crying now. She felt arms pulling her back into a strong chest, and someone was murmuring to her, or perhaps they were speaking normally and the sound of the gunshot had knocked her hearing. Either way, it was like someone had pulled a bag over her head as she brought her shaking hands up to her eyes to wipe. 

She managed to crack her lids then when the sludge was gone, only to see the room still a blurry mess. She could make out, in the haze of blobs and crimson tint, Bobbie’s body slumped to the floor, a dark puddle seeping into the rug as those long arms tugged her out of the room. She only then looked down to her hands where she had rubbed her face and she caught the same claret plasma coating her fingers, her white shirt, her pants, her arms. It covered her head to toe. 

It was in her eyes, she realised when she saw the ichor coating her fingertips. It was blocking her vision, turning the world a vivid wine colour, and she thinks she whimpered, or perhaps it was a moan of horror seeing the puddle beneath Bobbie’s body growing larger by the second. 

“I don’t understand,” She said out loud, her head spinning, and she brought her fingertips up to her eyes again, maybe to get the blood out, god there was so much blood on her face, or maybe because she hoped to everything out there that she would clear her sight and find it all a terrible hallucination, the product of one too many nights of sleepless tossing. 

But when she rubbed her lids again, this time seeing the scene a little better, Bobbie was still dead. She had still been too late. 

“You’re in shock, you need to breathe,” A voice instructed her over her shoulder, and it was from the same person who had their hands around her waist, pulling her away from the crime scene, as CSI filed in from behind them. 

She tried pushing the arms off her, weak because she couldn’t feel anything that wasn’t the horror in her stomach, and it took her a second before she listened to their words and realised she was holding a breath in her chest, the way a toddler does when they’re overwhelmed. 

“I don’t-” She gasped, the air rushing through her lungs, so fast it made her cough, “I don’t understand, I was going to help him- I don’t understand- why?”

“I know, just breathe for me, sweetheart,” Spencer. She only just realised it was Spencer speaking, because he had never called her that and the gentle tone he’d taken was nothing like his usual, civil cadence. He had been dropping a few jokes the past few weeks since she’d driven him home, had been more touchy feely with correcting her form when she was at the shooting range, had delicately touched the small of her back when they were navigating a crowd together. He was slowly cracking from his statuesque expression that hadn’t left his face since he’d gotten out of prison, but the softness with which he held her waist was entirely new. 

“Spencer, I don’t- I don’t get it,” She said, her voice bubbling into a sob as she allowed herself to be pulled away with no fight left in her. He took her into the hallway, turning her body from the sight of his hand lifeless on the floor with little to no effort. She was damn near limp in his arms, “Spencer, I don’t under-understand, I was going to h-help him, why would h-he do that-”

“Shhh, you need to breathe,” He murmured into her hair, trying to lead her out the front of the building and far away from where she’d just been front row seats to a messy suicide, “Come on, just breathe for me, baby, and then we can talk,”

But she wasn’t listening, and he wasn’t offended. Spencer knew it was the shock. He knew the symptoms by how her respiratory system had picked up in a matter of seconds and it was like she had gone from zero to a hundred. She let out a long whine, tears collecting the blood on her lash line and her chest seized into action, gulping down air, too short to do anything for her lungs, and her legs began to buckle beneath the two of them. 

Spencer stopped in the hallway, realising she was in more shock than he must have thought. He knew she was sensitive, hell it was one of his favourite things about her. He knew she felt everything so deeply, burned too easily, like a daisy wilting in a dry heat, or candyfloss melting in his mouth. Spencer knew, as awful as watching death up close was for any agent, it would hit her hardest of all of them. 

He moved around to her front, his hands migrating from her waist up to her shoulders, brushing over her upper arms soothingly. But her body felt numb, her head felt heavy, and her eyes were glazed over, down a rabbit hole entirely away from him, even when one of his hands cupped her wetted cheek gently. 

“Just breathe, hey, look at me,” He tried a firmer tone, and she bent to his will too easily. It was a punch in the gut seeing everything shining and pretty leached out of her eyes, as if she had become soulless in a matter of minutes, as if she had lost all hope in the world the second Bobbie pulled that trigger. She looked like hell, blood still fresh on her cheeks, in her hair, smeared around her eye sockets where she had scrubbed so hard to get it off her skin, “You need to calm down, you’re going to faint if you don’t breathe,”

She nodded, or something close to it, her eyes falling down to the floor, and she seemed to wrestle for control over her chest then. But what came after was worse, Spencer thought. Her brows screwed together, her eyes welling up with more of those fat tears, and her lips dropping into a devastated pout, her eyes trailing over the mess on her uniform, on her hands. 

“Spencer, I don’t understand, I tried to help him, I wanted to help him,” She sobbed, sniffling to herself miserably, and he barely even thought about it when he pulled her into his chest, not caring that her skin would dirty his shirt. 

His hand wound into her hair, stroking her sweetly as she buried her wails into his vest. He used his other arm to pull her close to him, which she seemed to have zero qualms about as she clawed at his back to keep him close, as if she didn’t want to face what was going to happen when they left that building. 

Spencer regretted ever thinking her sunshine was too bright for him. 

–

She hadn’t smiled in a whole week. Well, that wasn’t entirely true. She had given Penny a very forced smile when she had fussed over the younger woman the first day she got back, had said thankyou with downcast eyes and a fragile grin when the blonde presented her with a framed picture of a puppy to keep on her desk ‘incase she needed something nice to think about,’

She hadn’t looked at it once, because they both knew it wouldn’t do anything, no matter how much she pretended for Penelope’s sake that she would put it to good use. 

He had taken her out for coffee on him that first day, but by the time they had got to the front of the queue, he had been doing almost all of the talking, which had become rare nowadays since he had come home from Mexico. Usually, it had been her filling the silences, because he knew in her right mind she hated the sound of static nothingness, she found it awkward and unnecessary when she could talk to anyone without thinking about it too hard. 

They had got to the desk, the barista smiling up at him as he ordered his usual, before he turned to look at her as the woman serving asked her what she would like. But she wasn’t listening, she was watching out the window, nothing particularly invigorating beside a bird cleaning its feathers on top of a stop sign. 

He said her name, putting his hand on her back and her head whipped around, her eyes empty as they looked up at him expectantly, “What do you want to drink?” 

She blinked, waking herself from a stupor, and looked at the barista with an embarrassed expression, “Hot chocolate, please,” 

And that was all she really had to say until lunch rolled around, and she excused herself to head home early. Emily smiled at her reassuringly, her eyes wary as she watched their happy-go-lucky rookie head for the elevators with a desolate look in her eyes. 

Spencer hoped she would come around on her own, or maybe even be brave enough to talk to someone about the thoughts rattling around that head of hers, but she just didn’t. She stayed as silent as possible, only ever speaking when spoken to, asking Emily if she could finish off her reports at home, to which the Prentiss woman never protested. 

But Spencer had had enough. He’d worried himself sick over her, and where all thoughts of how endearing and lovely and charming she was had sat in his head before, now it was all just ways he could think to make her smile again. 

It was the following Tuesday by the time he braved action. She had gone home after their midday briefing, apologising to Emily with tired eyes that seemed to be growing more and more heavy by the day, like she hadn’t slept a wink in a fortnight. Which Spencer thought was entirely possible. 

He pulled up to the house Penelope had not so discreetly told him was hers, definitely not because he’d asked, and definitely, definitely not breaching any human resource policies about distributing fellow workers information (meaning Spencer had almost certainly not begged Penelope for the address with those puppy eyes of his he knew could bag him anything). 

The peonies in the window bays were wilting but her house was something out of a fairytale. He wasn’t sure why he was really so surprised. It screamed her, everything about it, from the toadstool post box to the little green, cast iron bench that sat in the garden, the metal forged to look like florets of ivy holding the sitter upright. 

He rapped the brass knocker, the metal cold under his long fingers. Brushing invisible dirt off his shirt, he hoped she would answer as the present squirmed at his feet. 

“Just a second,” He hushed, and as if she heard him, the front door swung open to reveal her bare face he hadn’t seen since he’d helped her wipe the blood from her skin in the back of the ambulance. 

She looked at him with furrowed brows, before they quickly shot to the floor, to her cobbled pathway that had clicked under his shoes, and her face washed with a shock. 

“Oh my god, Spencer!” She crouched to her knees, a slobbery lick immediately meeting her cheek as the Spaniel rubbed his wet nose up to her ear, sniffing her unique smell, as if it was a bag of Class A’s, “I never knew you had a dog,” 

“I don’t,” He replied, kneeling with her to ruffle the soft fur behind the canine’s ear, “This is Ace. He retired from the Bomb Unit a month ago and Penelope sent me his handler’s number. They said he’s the happiest dog in the world,” 

 “I would be too if I stopped so many people from blowing up,” She said, but before he could ask what she meant exactly by that, Ace had jumped up and attacked her entire face with kisses as if he too thought that statement was worth silencing. 

And she laughed. She laughed louder than she had in days, weeks, her eyes crinkling in joy as the little pink tongue stole away her sorrow, tickled away the traces of the blood that had tainted her skin. 

Spencer smiled, his eyes watching her face scrunch in a squeal, hands eventually coming up to the elderly dog’s jowls to gently push him down. 

“Oh, you are the sweetest guy,” She said, and the words had him tugging at the leash to lick her all over again, “Yes you are, you’re the sweetest little guy around, huh?” 

She chuckled, scratching down the mutt’s neck, and her eyes flicked back up to Spencer, who watched her with more intent than she’d realised. 

“Petting and receiving affection from pets causes spikes in serotonin in our brain and reduces anxiety, did you know that?” Spencer said, Ace pushing his muzzle into the palm of her hand to prove a point. 

Her smile wavered slightly, and she looked at his hazel hues that seemed to see right through her, “Look, I’m sorry I’ve been so off lately, I just can’t sleep at the moment-”

 “Don’t apologise,” He cut in, though his tone was kind, and the two of them stood back up to their full height, “What happened was horrifying, even some of the longest serving agents I know would struggle seeing that,” 

She scoffed, unusually pessimistic coming out of her mouth, “You wouldn’t,”

His head tilted, not quite understanding what she meant, because she hadn’t sounded cruel when she said it. Then again, he didn’t think she was actually capable of that emotion. 

She looked at him, a flash of something vulnerable in her eyes, something like that day he’d held her in the hallway; too fast he almost missed it.

“You’re so brave, Spencer, you’re like invincible. I mean, you survived prison and your mom getting kidnapped and you bounced straight back to work like it was nothing. I can’t even watch a murderer die without spiralling out of control,” She huffed, rubbing the bridge of her nose and before he could respond on just how wrong she was, before he could tell her that that was exactly the opposite of what had happened because he had damn near changed every inch of himself in prison to stop himself from breaking, he caught her murmuring and he thought he might just have been punched all over again, “I wish I was like you,”

His jaw clenched, eyebrows furrowing into a frown as he stepped towards her, and her head shot to him, worried she may have said the wrong thing by mentioning everything that had happened, everything Pen had specifically said was a touchy subject, and she opened her mouth to apologise. 

“Do you know how unbelievably glad I am that you are nothing like me?” Spencer said, his voice bordering on furious and her fumbled for a reply, worried she had truly pissed him off. 

She wouldn’t blame him for hating her. She’d always worried, until perhaps that day they’d gotten into her car and she’d driven him home, that her very essence annoyed him. 

“I’m sorry-” She started, but he shook his head.

“Stop apologising,” He said, his hand reaching up to grab where her fingers tugged together nervously, his hold featherlike, his face softening when he saw her expression, “I don’t want you to be anything like me. I like you just how you are,” 

She sighed, eyes doe like with emotion as she looked at him, “Really?”

He smiled, a rare and genuine smile as she seemed to glow under his words, “Yes, really.” Spencer allowed himself to enjoy the way that the twinkle returned to her expression when he smiled at her with something almost like the old Spencer in him, before he cleared his throat, “We all like you. Everyone on the team likes how you are,”

She paused, nodding to herself as if knocking herself out of a silly daze, and Ace bounced on his hind legs trying to get her attention again. 

“You don’t think I’m too sensitive?” She asked, holding her palm out for the dog to nuzzle at with that wet nose of his. 

Spencer shook his head, “Sensitive is good. It means you feel something. Means you feel the good things deeper too,” 

Her smile was blinding, because she’d never thought of it that way before, and she looked like her old self again. Spencer wasn’t stupid enough to think she was never going to think about Bobbie again, he still thought about that first UnSub he’d tried to save. He still thought about Tobias Hankel. He thought about them all. 

But he was going to make sure she never turned into him. He didn’t think he’d ever forgive himself if she did. He’d protect her sunlight even if it burned him to know he could never have her the way he wanted. Because she was everything good, and he was him. 

She looked down at Ace, the life returning to her as she stood aside for the two of them to enter her house, “Tea?”

Yep. Spencer felt something run hot knowing she would always be out of reach. Didn’t stop him from thinking about it, though. 

[teapartyprincess4two]

On Stream- M. Sturniolo

pairing: gf!reader x bf!Matt

classification: fluff

warnings: use of y/n, short, slight cursing, some suggestive comments

summary: Matt mentions you on stream, causing the chat to go crazy.

—

Nowadays it seems that Matt and Chris have an abnormal amount of free time.

The pair have spent the past few days running errands, catching up on chores, spending quality time together, and unwinding. But two energetic young men can only do so much relaxing before it becomes unbearably boring, especially without you and Nick around.

Nick’s somewhere across the globe, relishing in the perks of having good friends. He’s experiencing the world with a sense of individuality, having been apart from his triplet brothers for over a week.

Without Nick around the house is quiet and boring enough, but Chris and Matt can usually count on you to keep them company. But it seems that they see you less and less every day.

You aren’t somewhere far away, not physically at least, you’re just very, very busy. As you enter the fall semester, you’re juggling a multitude of responsibilities including school, work, your social life, and your relationship. But as you adjust to your crazy hectic schedule, you spend less time at home with Matt and more time nose deep in a book.

So, just as the brothers grow accustomed to the eerie silence that haunts the halls of their home and the boredom that settles into their everyday lives, they decide enough is enough and take up a new hobby. Streaming.

Today, as Matt anchors himself in his rolling chair, his eyes skim through the endless chats that flood his screen. Chris sits next to him, a vibrant and excited smile adorning his features.

This is their third consecutive day going live on Twitch. At first they went live to entertain and chat with their fans, but now they’re doing it to occupy their bored minds.

Chris’s eyes skim the chat, fixating on one message in particular. He subconsciously reads it aloud, “Is Y/n on tour with Nick? We miss her.”

After reading the comment, the chat was flooded with similar messages asking for you. Matt slumps into his chair, the mention of your name reminding him that it’s been a week since he’s seen you.

“Nah, she’s just busy with school right now,” Chris replies mindlessly, skimming for another comment to read.

A lot of the viewers noticed Matt’s mood shift. They noticed the way his eyes drooped and the way the corners of his mouth turned into a frown. They especially noticed the disassociated look he wore, mind traveling to a place only you could bring him out of.

“Matt,” Chris says, waving a hand in front of his brother’s face. No response. “Matt!” He tries again, louder this time. Matt still doesn’t respond, only coming back into reality when Chris violently shakes his shoulders.

“What, dude? What?!” Matt asks, annoyance evident in his tone.

“Your phone’s ringing.” Chris replies with an eye roll and a small scoff.

Suddenly the blaring ring registers in Matt’s mind as he pats his pockets in search of his phone. When he finally finds it, your name illuminated the screen.

“Who’s calling?” Chris asks, stretching out his neck in hopes of catching a nosy glimpse at the caller ID.

“Umm be right back chat. Y/n’s calling,” Matt says, words spewing out a mile a minute. He disappears from the room faster than ever, immediately pressing the phone to his ear.

“Hello?”

“Hey, baby.” Your voice is music to Matt’s ears. It feels like forever since he’s last heard it.

“Hey,” he murmurs, “everything okay?”

You hum in response, followed by a soft yawn.

“You sound tired. When are you coming home?” Matt asks, softly leaning against the wall. You’ve been at school all day stuck in lectures and studying, so Matt knows you need some well deserved rest.

“I’m on my way now. That’s why I called, wanted to see if you guys were hungry so I could pick up something to eat.”

The excitement that courses through Matt’s veins is unreal, winding him up with enough energy to last until tomorrow. He can’t wait to see you, hold you, kiss you, and make up for all the lost time.

“Whatever you want, baby,” he replies, pausing for a second to compose himself, “I just wanna see you.”

A warm smile graces your features and if Matt could see it he’d mirror your expression.

“I’ll be home soon don’t worry. How’s the stream going?”

“Huh?” For a second Matt forgot that he and his brother were live streaming for thousands of people.

“The stream. Aren’t you live with Chris right now?”

“Ohhh. It’s going… it’s going good.” Matt replies with a soft sigh.

Your smile is momentarily replaced with a frown. “It doesn’t sound like it’s going good. What’s wrong?”

Matt’s fingers pinch the bridge of his nose before gliding across his eyelids and massaging the tense nerves and muscles on his face. “It’s going fine. I just can’t focus. The chat keeps asking about you and it’s honestly making me really sad.”

A small chuckle escapes your lips. “Aww my poor baby. Can’t focus on Fortnite?”

“Not Fortnite.”

“Oops, sorry. Fall Guys?

“Y/n.” Matt warns, though he finds it slightly funny too.

“I’m joking, I’m joking. I’ll be home soon with some good food and open arms. We can cuddle and watch a movie, or do anything else you wanna do. Okay?”

Matt feels his spirit lighten up again, a cheeky smirk forming on his face. “Anything?”

“Don’t push it,” you laugh.

Just as Matt’s about to respond, he’s cut short by Chris calling his name from inside the room.

“Get back to your stream. I’ll be home soon, handsome.”

Matt’s lips form a silly pout you can’t even see as he replies, “But I wanna keep talking to you. Miss you so much.”

“MATT!” Chris calls again, this time much louder than the last.

“We’ll talk all you want when I get home. Now go! I have the stream pulled up on my computer and I think Chris is gonna start twerking,” you say, trying your best not to laugh.

“Holy fuck this kid,” Matt groans, face palming. “Alright baby, I love you. Drive safe.”

“I love you too,” you say through small giggles before hanging up.

When Matt renters the room, he’s not surprised to find Chris dancing for the camera. He pushes past him and settles back into his rolling chair wearing a huge, toothy smile.

“What did Y/n want?” Chris asks, briefly glancing at Matt as he switches from doing the griddy to shuffling across the room.

“Just asked if we were hungry,” Matt shrugs, attempting to act nonchalant, but there’s no hiding the newfound pep in his step.

“And it took you that long?”

“I was catching up with my girl. —Why the fuck are you still dancing?”

“Someone gifted,” Chris says, slightly breathless as he bops from corner to corner.

“Alright…” Matt shifts towards the computer, “What did I miss?”

He reads comments, expecting most of them to be about Chris and his absurd dancing skills, but he’s surprised to find that they’re all about you.

Some fans ask where you are, others ask what you’re doing, some speculate on the conversation you and Matt had, and others simply comment on how much happier Matt seems since talking to you.

All Matt can do is smile and patiently wait for you to arrive, ready to bombard you with kisses as soon as you step through the door.

—

MASTERLIST

a/n: hi babies! Hope you enjoy this short oneshot! I know I haven’t updated or posted much in a longggg time but I honestly had writers block :P I’m trying to get into the habit of writing again, so bear with me pls. I have a lotttt of drafts (some that just need to be edited) so be expecting that soon! Luv you all 😚

- L.A.M.B🪽💝

—

taglist: @nickgetsmewetter @sturniololovers @raysmayhem-72 @worldlxvlys @gnxosblog @meg-sturniolo @creamoncreamoncream2 @mattnchrisworld @sanyi5 @lustfulslxt @whicked-hazlatwhore @tworosesblackthorn @mxqdii @fawned01 @junnniiieee07 @sturniolololover @missriddle03 @k-l-a-w-s @maryx2xx @biggesthat3r @herxyzblog @getosuckers @sturnioloarchive @tillies33ssss @fratbrochrisgf @rxeae @riasturns @sturnikitty @sturnrc @sturtriple16 @sillyfreakfanparty @imwetforyourmom @mattslovelygf @certifiednatelover @cartiiwannagotoplutoo @luvr4miya @somegirlfromasgard @l0vergrlll @pepsicolapussy333 @unbruisable @sugrhigh @khxna @wh0resstuff @jnkvivi @callsignwidow @sturnstvr @inkyray-deactivated20240729 @stasiesturn @poopiepantsworld @cvnt4matty @eleanore2204 @jhutchismyl0verb0y

note: if you want to be tagged in my fanfic related posts, you can access my TAGLIST and comment 💐 if your user is striked through, I wasn’t able to tag you :(

[miserycanary]

DEFINITELY NUTS ᡣ𐭩 ⤷ next

pairing: Simon 'Ghost' Riley & model!fem!reader

synopsis: Ghost mentions you but 141 doesn't believe that he got a wife

tags: crack (well, attempted), fluff

Ghost’s strict rules for privacy are something the 141 has known for years now. He’s not the type of person to blab about his personal life and often chooses just to keep quiet. So, imagine their surprise when he suddenly says that he’s going to take a day off because his wife asked him to watch a play. 

“Price, ‘am not gonna be here tomorrow. Got a date with my missus.”

All eyes are on him, everyone stills. “WIFE? Since when?!” Soap exclaimed, finally breaking the silence. His eyes were almost bulging out his eyes. “Never told you about her?” Ghost hums, unamused by the Scottish’s exclaim. “Johnny here does have a reasonable reaction. You never tell us anything ‘bout you, mate,” Price joined, chuckling and pulling out a cigar. The man just contemplates before brushing it off and bidding farewell, leaving the group confused. 

“Ain’t no way he’s telling us the truth. That man ain’t got no bone in his body to bag someone,” Soap voiced out, looking for anyone to support his disbelief. “I mean..” Gaz whistles out, crossing his arms over his chest and tilting his head as if he’s agreeing to some extent. That’s when, unbeknownst to Ghost, he got the reputation of being delusional and a liar. 

Soap, still doubtful days later, watches the lieutenant with a vision like a hawk. “Hey, lieutenant.” Ghost snaps his head up, looking at him. “How was the date with your wife?” Immediately, everyone else stopped what they were doing, silently listening. It was obvious he was baiting Ghost, emphasizing the wife as if putting on quotes. They weren’t as nosy as Soap but each one of them still held a bit of doubtness that the brick wall of the team managed to get a girl, and even marry her.

“It was okay. The missus had fun,” Ghost chuckles, fondly remembering how you were beaming on the way, rambling about the plot of the play. “Can we see pictures?” Soap smirked thinking he finally got the lieutenant but was taken aback when Ghost only shrugged and pulled out his phone before freezing. “Ah, we didn’t take pictures yesterday. Said she wanted to live in the moment.” 

Soap whipped his head to signal to Gaz, seemingly saying ‘See? He’s definitely lying! How convenient he has no pictures.” 

“How about just a picture of your wife?” Kyle suggested, now invested while Price seemed to be shaking his head in the corner. “I have none with me but..” With a few clicks, Ghost holds up his phone for everyone to see. Like birds, everyone flocked around him, curious to see. For a while, everyone was surprised and sure the man was lying. I mean, he just showed them a picture of a drop-dead gorgeous model from a magazine! 

‘He's definitely lost it’ everyone seemed to think, offering pity glances at the man who had this prideful shine in his eyes. Walking up to his superior, Soap patted him on the back. “It’s fine, mate… we understand how difficult it must be.” ‘not having a lady at all’

Thinking Johnny meant about your hectic schedule, he agreed. “It’s quite tough but we make it work,” he chuckled which made everyone wince.

‘Definitely nuts!’

Weeks passed after that and the topic never got brought up, until Ghost came in with a bento in hand covered with a handkerchief with frilly ends. When asked about it, he replied, “Ah, wife’s testing out recipes for an upcoming TV show. ‘S been practicing and asked me to bring one.” Once again, he was given pity glances and even heard a defeated sigh from Soap. 

‘He’s too far gone’

“How’s work?” you ask, dazedly paying attention to the movie you guys put, more invested in burying your face in Simon’s chest while he drapes both arms on your waist, completely engulfing your torso under his muscles. “Been getting a few weird stares,” he mumbles, playing with your hair and pressing kisses on your forehead. “Why?” you peer up, resting your chin on his shoulder. “I don’ know, princess.”

Meanwhile…

“Should we just… finally set the lieutenant on a date? I feel bad. I mean, he even lied about his “wife” making him lunch,” Johnny sighed.

“Probably the best idea,” Kyle nodded.

Now Price… he knows the truth. He met you before when you dropped by, asking for Ghost— which ended horribly— but he’ll lying if he said he’s not getting a kick out of this.

꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱: probably won't be posting for a while :] Did you guys notice the hint to my previous work? Please do. 😔

dividers by @cafekitsune

Please reblog!! Ask is open!

check out my other works in the masterlist: ୭!

[nosyrobin]

Batboys when their unaffectionate best friend texts them “I love you” out of no where.

Tw: suicide mentions but not done. Reader is gender neutral.

Dick

As soon as he got that text, he either felt happy you started to be affectionate or he felt worried as you never really texted him that. He goes to text you “are you okay?”

And if you don’t answer he’s leaving work and going to your house. His anxiety is eating his stomach alive when he reached your house, he opens them with the spare keys you gave him.

You were just watching tv when you turned at him confused. “Dick?” Immediately dick hugs you, tightly. Now you’re concerned . “Dick?” You said again, worried. “I was worried…thought something happened to you.” He stays at your home until he gets called back to work.

Jason

Just try and do the same shit to him like dick. Don’t answer him? This man’s pulling up to your house immediately when you said “I love you.” Scared that maybe someone who knows him and wants to hurt Jason is after you.

He knows you, more than you know yourself. Literally he’s already at your window banging on it, cursing himself when you don’t open it he goes and bust the window open wide. He can pay for it, don’t worry.

As he stalks around the house holding his gun, he sees you standing in the kitchen holding a knife. This big ass fridge of a man just grabs the knife out of your hand. You scream shocked before seeing it was just Jason.

“What..were you doing?…” he asked firmly. You scoff and grabbed the knife, well tried to as you explained yourself. “I was gonna cut onions before you came in Jay..” you said pointing to the onions Jason had clearly hadn’t seen due to adrenaline.

“Oh. Well love ya too, ima go now. I’ll see you in the morning.” Jason says leaving, that was before he turned around. “Oh yeah and Uhm…your window is broken.” Jason leaves quickly as you gasp and go check your bedroom window. “JASONNNN!!” You yelled in anger.

Tim

It’s late at night, he on his computer doing a report when all he sees on his phone is an “I love you” text from the most unexpected friend ever, you. Immediately Tim is getting up, calling you as he gets dressed to go to your house.

He’s scared, “pick up, pick up, pick up.” You don’t answer. “Fuck!” Tim hangs up and calls again. He knows you had some thoughts of suicidal tendencies, but he’s been by you in your darkest days. So when you just text him that, he doesn’t realize he’s crying when he finally reaches your house.

He’s using a spare key he secretly copied off of your own home key, don’t ask. It’s for procedures like this if you are in danger.

Anyways he immediately screaming your name, if you don’t answer immediately as he screams your name. He’s gonna run up to your room.

But if you immediately yell back his name, he’s running towards your voice. You were in your room relaxing when you see a tired and scared Tim rush at you into a hug. Crying softly as he holds you tight.

“You’re okay right? Why didn’t you answer my calls?!” He says immediately. “My phone died when I texted you…” Tim immediately stopped crying just to give you a “wtf” face. “….are you serious.” Tim had forgotten that you had a terrible habit of having your phone dead at times.

“Yeah.” “..just for this night scare. I’m sleeping here.” Tim says, his body soon gave out easily. Making his heavy body fall on your smaller frame. “Tim! Tim! Get up dude..I’m sorry!? Damnnit!!!”

Damian

The moment that text got sent, it takes him 6 minutes to get to your house. Quietly like the damn ex assassin he is.

His expression and face are hardened holding a katana, bro’s lip in sunken in as he looks around your house. “I don’t know what games you are playing. But it’s not funny L/N.” He says as he then sits on your bed. Katana flat on his lap staring at you intensely. “What, I can’t say I love you to my best friend.” Damian’s glare hardened. “You can, I was just surprised when you texted me those 'words'. Seemed unlikely of you to say that so I had to come to make sure you were secured.”

You deadpanned at the tanned boy in-front of you. “Okay fine, I just wanted to say it incase you felt like you didn’—” “I know you love me, and I …love you too. Now that I know you are okay, I must go.” He says quickly. Looking away to hide his slight flustered face, he lifts up your window sill and jumps out the window. You walk over to see the boy is immediately gone.

[vanteguccir]

── ୨୧ !　𝟴 𝗠𝗜𝗡𝗨𝗧𝗘𝗦 𝗢𝗙 𝗖𝗨𝗧𝗘 𝗠𝗢𝗠𝗘𝗡𝗧𝗦

　　　　　　　　𝒄𝒉𝒓𝒊𝒔 𝒔𝒕𝒖𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒐𝒍𝒐 x reader

SUMMARY: Where a fan made an 8-minute video with a compilation of Chris and Y/N being in love.

WARNING: None.

REQUESTED?: Yes, by @lightsgore

AUTHOR'S NOTE: That is my work, I DON'T authorize any plagiarism! | English isn't my first language, so I'm sorry if there's any grammar error.

　　　༻✦༺ 　༻✧༺　༻✦༺

The fans of the triplets simply adored Y/N and Chris together, and that wasn't news. The number of comments and likes doubled whenever the girl appeared with her boyfriend in a random picture in a photo dump on Instagram or when her voice sounded in the background of a video.

But what they loved most was when a cute moment of the two of them together was captured during a video on the Sturniolo channel or in a fraction of seconds on Y/N's TikTok, and they made this clear by making thousands of compilations of these little moments, long enough to even post on YouTube.

　　　༻✦༺ 　༻✧༺　༻✦༺

8 minutes of cute moments between Chris Sturniolo and his girlfriend, Y/N.

1st minute:

The triplets and Y/N were walking down the sidewalk near the arena in Boston, where they played hockey with Nate.

Nick was recording himself with his phone, talking about how he had almost slipped on the ice several times, when Chris and Y/N's voices sounded, interrupting him. He focused the front camera on the two behind him, surreptitiously recording them.

"... But baby, it wasn't my fault." Y/N complained, her lips forming a pout as her eyes focused on the floor.

"Babe, I asked you to record the game, right?" Chris asked, an amused smile on his face.

They walked side by side, the girl's right arm around her boyfriend's slightly sweaty waist, while Chris's left arm rested on Y/N's shoulders, his fingers caressing her left bicep lightly.

"Yes, and I recorded it!" Her voice came out high-pitched.

"Okay, and how many times did I make a goal?" The boy asked again, raising his right eyebrow.

"Three." Y/N replied in an obvious tone, raising her eyes to look into the blue ones she loved so much. "You kissed me every time you did it." She smiles proudly.

"Yes, and how many of those three did you record?"

"None." She looked down again, her pout deepening. "But-"

Chris threw his head back, his laughter echoing through the night, interrupting his girlfriend's defense.

He leaned down slightly, sealing his lips over Y/N's head, an amused smile still on his face. Oh, how he loved his girlfriend.

　　　　　༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

2nd minute:

The triplets were filming the video "A night at the North Pole with Larray and Nai!". The camera was positioned in a strategic point so that the lens captured all the camping items around the room, as well as the brothers and the two guests.

Y/N was in her shared room with Chris, already dressed in her - his - pajamas and with her skincare done, ready for bed. But sleep never came.

She knew she had trouble sleeping without Chris after her body got used to the boy's presence pressed against hers every night for 5 years, so her mind didn't seem to give in, begging for the warmth that Chris's larger body provided.

After a few long minutes of turning from side to side, Y/N gave up trying. Sleep was taking over her, and she was feeling more and more stressed for not being able to go into dream land, so she decided to just go to her boyfriend.

Y/N rose from the bed, their duvet wrapped around her body like a cape. Her hands reached for the handle of the white door, closing it behind her and climbing the stairs in slow, silent steps caused by the fluffy socks that covered her feet.

Larray was the first to notice her - sitting facing the top of the stairs. He smiled, amused by his friend's condition; her eyes slightly closed from sleep, her hair high in a messy bun, and her hands gripping the edges of the duvet tightly.

Not many seconds passed, and Y/N's figure was finally caught by the camera, the girl having entered the frame.

"Hey, zombie girl." Nick joked when he noticed her, raising his eyebrows in amusement.

Y/N completely ignored him, walking towards her boyfriend from behind the triplets, not wanting to step on the food that was on the floor between the five of them.

Chris's face automatically lit up when he noticed her after hearing his brother, a big smile taking over as his eyes sparkled. He opened his arms, already waiting for his girlfriend's next move.

The girl smiled lazily back, planting her feet on the floor on either side of her boyfriend's hips, before lowering herself with Chris's help, sitting on his lap.

The brunette quickly wrapped her in his arms, surrounding her torso covered by the fluffy duvet. He hugged her tightly, laying his head in the crook of her neck and exhaling the sweet scent of her shampoo momentarily, before resting his chin on her shoulder, being able to see everything in front of him.

"Sleep, pretty girl."

　　　　　༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

3rd minute:

Chris was playing Fortnite live on Twitch. His camera was on and focused on his upper body. His head was covered by the hood of his hoodie, pressed against his ears by the headphone, from where muffled sounds from the video game were coming out.

Within 30 minutes of streaming, Y/N's figure shyly appeared behind Chris. Her hands held a tray with some snacks and an already opened can of Pepsi.

She walked towards her boyfriend, curving her spine slightly forward so that her face came into his field of vision, alerting him to her presence.

The boy's blue eyes widened in excitement almost instantly, a smile stretching across his face as his right hand worked on pausing the game, using the soles of his feet against the floor to turn his body towards her.

"Hi bubba, I just came to drop off some snacks for you. It's been a while since you had dinner, I thought you could be hungry." Y/N counted in a low tone, momentarily forgetting that Chris's headphones were of the highest quality, meaning it caught her every word.

The couple didn't notice the chaos in the chat, too focused on each other.

Chris bit his lower lip in an attempt to stop his smile from growing any wider, taking the tray from Y/N's hands and placing it on the free space on his computer desk.

He lifted his chin slightly in the air so that he brought his lips closer to hers, sealing them in a quick kiss, his eyes shining with intense love.

"Thank you, babe." Chris thanked in an equally low tone, adjusting himself in his chair again, ready to go back to playing.

Y/N smiled, caressing his shoulder lightly before turning to leave the room.

"I love you." The brunette shouted quickly before his girlfriend could close the door, receiving an "I love you more" in return.

　　　　　༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

4th minute:

The triplets and Y/N were at an Italian restaurant, having decided to go out to dinner together that day.

Y/N was talking to Matt about one of the random facts that the boy knew and blurted out of nowhere, the two deeply involved in the conversation.

The dishes had just been delivered by the waiter, who placed them respectively in front of the person who ordered, leaving shortly afterward.

Chris quickly pulled Y/N's plate towards himself, grabbing his own knife and fork and cutting the sirloin steak into small pieces and separating them from the pasta, knowing how much his girl hated cutting meat and how she always ate too quickly.

What he didn't notice was that Nick took out his phone the moment he started the gesture, closely recording his brother cutting his girlfriend's food, practicing the act of service.

After finishing, Chris lightly pushed the plate in front of his girl, turning around to start eating his own.

The girl smiled shyly, turning to Chris momentarily, sealing her lips over his cheek before murmuring a "thank you, babe" against his skin, turning her attention back to Matt.

　　　　　༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

5th minute:

The triplets were in their car, recording another car video. Y/N was their special guest, sitting in the backseat next to Chris, who chose to sit there just to be close to his girlfriend.

Y/N had just taken a bite of the pepperoni pizza that Nick took from the trunk, finishing chewing quickly so she could bring her point of view on something Nick was saying, gesturing with her right hand while her left held the piece carefully.

Chris watched her closely, his eyes fixed on her side profile as he listened, nodding his head.

Something the fandom loved was how Y/N was the only person Chris didn't interrupt all the time, showing himself completely interested in hearing anything his girl was saying, regardless of whether it made sense or not.

At one point, the boy lowered his eyes, stretching his right arm and taking one of the napkins that was on the car console, bringing it to Y/N's mouth, lightly wiping the corner of her lip that was dirty with sauce, but without interrupting her.

Chris folded the napkin, leaving it on his lap, knowing he would have to use it again soon.

　　　　　༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

6th minute:

"Look, boys, learn from Chris how to treat a girl right." Nick whispered from behind his phone.

He was standing behind the kitchen table, holding his cell in his right hand, the rear camera focused on the living room couch, where Y/N was.

The girl was lying on her side, her knees bent so that her thighs touched her chest. Her back was facing the room, while her face was lightly pressed against the back of the couch. A Fresh Love sweatshirt set covered her body, keeping her warm.

Small sighs escaped her half-open mouth, her eyes moving behind her eyelids, showing how deep her sleep was.

Chris, who was sitting with her feet on his lap seconds ago, was now standing in front of the couch, curving his spine down so that he could reach his girlfriend, slowly passing his arms under her neck and bent knees, pulling her up.

On instinct, Y/N raised her left arm, surrounding Chris's neck and laying her head on his chest, waking up for just a few seconds, caressing his covered skin with the tip of her nose.

"Shh, sleep baby. I'm right here." Chris murmured in a low tone, sealing her forehead lightly, stopping his movements as he watched her close her eyes again, falling back to sleep.

Chris moved slowly, hugging Y/N's body against his as he walked towards the stairs, not noticing Nick recording them from afar.

　　　　　༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

7th minute:

Y/N was sitting on the puff in front of her makeshift dressing table. Her phone was resting on it horizontally while her front camera recorded herself.

She was talking about the new trend in the fashion world, having as a hobby making videos for TikTok about fashion and makeup. While the girl explained in detail, her hands worked on doing her nighttime skincare, gesturing, and changing products alternately.

Chris's figure appeared behind her a few seconds after she started it, his hands holding Y/N's hairbrush. He was already ready to sleep, his eyes half closed with sleep and his hair slightly messy.

A habit created by the couple was that, while Y/N did her skincare before bed, Chris would carefully comb her hair, having always had a great love for her locks.

The boy approached his girlfriend, smiling quickly at the camera before stopping behind Y/N. His free hand parted her hair so he could comb it without hurting her or leaving any part behind.

Chris raised his hand with the hairbrush, starting to do it gently, untangling the knots created throughout the day and aligning the strands.

His eyes met Y/N's from time to time through the mirror, a small smile resting on his lips, adorning his passionate features.

　　　　　༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

8th minute:

It was the Versus Tour; Matt, Chris, and Nick were playing the last round of Giant Jenga when Chris spotted a fan with a sign held up.

"Wait, before we continue, can I read a sign from a fan real quick?" The brunette interrupted the group, holding his microphone with his right hand and pointing at the crowd with his left one, receiving absurdly loud screams in response.

Matt shrugged, looking at Nick, who nodded, making a go-ahead gesture with his hands.

"Hi! Can I read your sign?" Chris turned back to the audience, pointing to a specific girl. The girl's eyes widened, her mouth opening in shock at being noticed by her idol, taking a few seconds to finally nod her head repeatedly. "Your sign says, "I'm only here for Y/N"-"

Loud screams interrupted Chris, fans going wild at the mention of his girlfriend's name. The brunette took the microphone away from his mouth, laughing in disbelief and looking at a specific area on the right side of the stage.

A fan, who was in the audience and recording the moment, focused the rear camera of her phone on the place where Chris looked, being able to capture the figure of Y/N, who was laughing loudly and clapping her hands in amusement, shaking her head.

"Well, I can't judge you. Everywhere I am, I only go for Y/N, too." Chris muttered into his microphone again, laughing as he received even louder screams in response.

His eyes met his girlfriend's, throwing an air kiss and an "I love you" with just a movement of his lips, before turning his attention back to the game.

　　　　　༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

Extra minute:

The triplets and Y/N were at their house with Nate and Madi. Everyone was in the living room, talking about random topics while a movie played on the television at low volume, serving as ambient sound. Some board games were scattered on the floor, next to unopened or already eaten snacks.

Chris was sitting on a puff in front of the big windows while Y/N was on his lap. She had her legs thrown to one side while her torso was on the other, sitting sideways on Chris's thighs with her right shoulder resting on his chest.

Chris's arms encircled her body, his right one holding her waist while his left one caressed her thighs lightly.

The girl was talking about a situation she witnessed between a group of third-party friends, always keeping her boyfriend updated on the gossip.

What they didn't know was that Madi was recording their cute moment.

As Y/N spoke, Chris looked into her eyes intently, his gaze so full of love that Madi thought she could see hearts in the place of his pupils.

The brunette nodded from time to time, making it clear that he had his attention on her and understood everything she was saying, an almost imperceptible smile resting on the corner of his lips.

The two seemed to be surrounded by a bubble created just for them, the entire outside world completely forgotten.

That was their dynamic, and the triplets fandom loved it.

taglist:

@lustfulslxt @ladybunny44 @worldlxvlys @earth2starkey @remussbitch @freshloveforthefit @il0vebeingdelulu @sturniolowhore @mimi-luvzyu @alorsxsturn @urfavgirllyyyyy @domizzzsstuff @sturnizd @hearts4chris @cupidzsq @dracoflaco @leah-loves-lilies @tylerthecreatorsrealwife @rootbeerworshiper @junnniiieee07 @elliesturniolo1 @sstvrnioloo

(If you want to be added to the taglist, go to this post)

[snowballseal]

Tipsy Tricks

Sylus X Reader

Summary: You and Sylus agree to focus on work for a little bit, meaning you don't have time to see each other. That is...until you get a panicked call from the twins saying their boss is drunk and needs someone to cuddle with.

Word Count: 1836

Note: FLUFF - Sylus is drunk, but honestly, I feel like he can handle his alcohol well so he does a bit of acting. It's all just to get your attention and he's a little more clingy. Also, Luke and Kieran my beloveds.

---

“Miss, we need your help!”

You blink at the sudden shout that comes through your phone the moment you answer it.

“Luke?”

“Please Miss! Boss is not acting himself!”

“Kieran? Wait- hold on, just-”

“Ah! We’re too late!”

“Please Miss, come save us!”

You blink again as the call ends just as abruptly.

What the-?

You stare at the now dark screen for a long moment, just trying to process what happened. It’s late, late enough that you’re already dressed in your pajamas and winding down in bed. The last thing you were expecting was to get such a panicked call from Luke and Kieran.

What were they even talking about? Why do they need saving? Is something wrong with Sylus?

The thought wedges into your chest like a thorn, sharp and uncomfortable. You hadn’t heard from the Onychinus leader - your lover - in a few days due to his busy schedule. Neither of you liked it, but you agreed it was best he just focus on work, and you’d do the same to keep yourself occupied.

Getting a call like this only makes your anxiety skyrocket.

You don’t even bother wasting the time to change, throwing a coat over your pajamas and snatching your keys as you hurdle out the door. 

---

“Miss!!! Oh you’ve come to save us, thank you!”

Luke and Kieran throw the door open before your knuckles even touch it. You jump back, chest heaving from having run all the way from the transport station. They look just as frazzled, well, as frazzled as two men in masks can look. 

“What’s wrong? Is Sylus okay? Why are you guys freaking out?” You shoot out questions quickly, grabbing one of the twins by the shoulders. “You guys were infuriatingly cryptic over the phone! Seriously, who calls in the middle of the night like that?”

“We’re sorry,” Luke leans in, trying to rescue his brother from your vicious grip, “We just didn’t know what to do. Boss hardly ever gets like this!”

“He kept talking about you so we figured you could help us,” Kieran insists, ducking away with the help of his brother.

“Okay, but what’s wrong? Is he hurt?” You press for more details, concern only growing. “What happened to make him act weird?”

“He’s drunk.”

…

Your jaw shuts with an audible click, going tense as you stare at them incredulously. Seriously? All of this, all of the panic, the urgency, because Sylus got drunk? You take a deep, slow breath, trying to ease the immediate desire to knock their heads together.

“Let me get this straight. You’re telling me that you called me. In the middle of the night. After I had settled down for bed. Screaming bloody murder over the phone. Because Sylus had too much to drink?”

“...yes.”

“That’s right.”

You close your eyes. Another deep breath. Slowly, the panic that had washed over you recedes, leaving a sliver of irritation and amusement. You really should expect nothing less from them.

“Okay,” you sigh and prop your hands on your hips. The two seem to relax, like they had actually expected you to smack them. Which you might have, if they hadn’t sounded truly distressed earlier. “So why is this such a bad thing? Sylus is an adult, he can handle being a little drunk, but you two are acting like the world is ending. Why?”

“Well you see-”

“Boss gets incredibly physical when he’s drunk-”

“Not in a violent way-”

“Unless he’s around people he doesn’t like.”

“Right.”

You blink slowly at them, “...so?”

“It’s scary!” Kieran crows.

“It’s like having a kodiak bear trying to give you a hug!” Luke adds, curling his fingers in a gesture you’re sure is meant to mimic said bear.

“We love the boss, but we can’t handle him like this.”

“And he kept asking for you! So we called.”

Ah.

You take a moment to really process all of it. Sylus is drunk. Sylus is a touchy drunk…

It’s too good to pass up on

“Alright, boys,” you hum, an excited grin slowly spreading across your lips. You clap both of them gently on the shoulder. “I’ll take it from here. You can go hide wherever you usually do.”

“Thank you, Miss.”

“We knew calling you was the right decision. Please take care of our boss.”

“I’ll do my best.”

The twins skitter off as soon as you let them go, leaving you alone in the foyer. You quietly slip your coat off, hanging it up properly before making your way further into the base. Not knowing exactly where Sylus could be, you check all the obvious places. The bar. His bedroom. The kitchen. All of which are empty.

Finally you come to the den. Each step makes your heart race a little quicker, the thick silence putting you on edge. A drunk person shouldn’t be so hard to find. But as you step into the room, looking over every nook and cranny (despite how large the man in question is), you once again find it empty.

Where on earth could he be?

“My, my, a kitten’s wandered into my home.” You nearly jump out of your skin when an arm curls around your waist, drawing you back against a solid chest. The familiar warmth of his touch is like a balm to your nerves. You glance over your shoulder, gaze meeting a pair of sleepy vermillion eyes, their depths hazy and dark. “You broke our agreement, sweetie.”

You bite back a smile, “Maybe I wouldn’t have had to if a certain someone hadn’t gotten tipsy and scared the boys.”

Sylus huffs, his face dipping to nuzzle into the crook of your neck in an uncharacteristically soft show of affection. His breath is dizzyingly warm against your skin, his nose tracing featherlight along the column of your throat, like he’s breathing you in. It makes you feel dizzy. You clutch onto his arm to anchor yourself, breath hitching when his lips press tenderly against your racing pulse. 

“I’ve missed you.” 

The words are a mere whisper, the sound rumbling through his chest, so deep you can feel it with how his body leans into yours. You let out a shuddering breath, eyes flickering shut.

“I missed you too, Sy.”

So much. You didn’t want to admit to yourself just how much his absence had been wearing you down. Little by little until you could feel the gaping emptiness, like a stream carving a canyon. You were homesick. And it makes your heart flutter to know he felt the same.

“How about we sit, huh?” You suggest softly, and his arms tighten. Turning your head, despite the awkward angle, you press a reassuring kiss to his silvery locks, “I’m not going anywhere, love. I can’t support your weight much longer, though.”

Seemingly appeased, Sylus lets out an understanding hum. In a puff of black smoke, you find yourself settled on the couch, your back pressed into the soft leather with Sylus laying on top of you, his arms still curled around your waist, head resting on your chest. He nuzzles into you like a cat, letting out a long, drawn out sigh.

It’s adorable really. And jarring. While Sylus has never shied away from being affectionate, it’s always been in his rough, teasing way. This feels tender. Vulnerable. While you were originally planning to tease him to no end, you find yourself overwhelmed with a gentle kind of adoration for the man, your fingers softly fussing with his hair.

“You know, I think I like this side of you.”

“Hmmm, is that so?” Sylus mumbles sleepily, his eyes barely open as he gazes up at your face.

“Yah,” you breathe, tracing the relaxed line of his brow, fingers skimming down his cheek to brush the corner of his lips, “You’re acting so cute and docile. Maybe I should start calling you kitten.”

Even sleepy Sylus won’t let that stand. The second your fingers graze his lips, he nips at them, not enough to hurt, but enough to make you snatch them back, inhaling sharply. Heat curls in your chest, matching the heat burning behind his gaze as he flashes you that lazy yet dangerous smile.

“Don’t mistake my affection for passivity, sweetie,” he rumbles, pushing himself up just enough to graze his lips against yours, the smell of expensive alcohol and his rich cologne clouding your senses. “You should be more wary of a man when his restraints are loose. There’s no telling what he might do once you fall for his trap.”

Ah. You hold back a giggle, eyes narrowing up at him with mirth. So that’s what this was all about.

“Trap, huh? Is that what this was? Did you get tipsy and scare the twins on purpose so they’d call me?”

Sylus doesn’t look ashamed for even a second, offering a nonchalant shrug. The way his ears go red, though, tells you that you’ve hit the nail on the head.

“Aw, you did all that just cause you missed me?” Reaching up, you loop your arms around Sylus’ shoulders and draw him even closer. Your lips brush his as you murmur, “You could have just called, pretty bird.”

“And what fun would that be?” Sylus tilts his head, eyes flickering down to your lips. 

He wants to kiss you breathless, the sensation of your lips ghosting against his driving his already muddled thoughts wild. The way you look under him, hair a mess, dressed in such cute pajamas, is a perfectly tempting image, but it’s the fact that he can’t quite think straight that makes him hold back. While getting drunk was certainly a good way to get you here, it was not conducive to anything else he might want.

And simply having you by his side is enough.

You sigh as Sylus presses a sweet kiss to your lips. Unlike most of your kisses, this one isn’t about passion or hunger. Intense, yes, but intense in a way that feels like devotion. It’s reverent and slow, leaving a lingering hum under your skin as he draws away.

“Will you stay?”

Fondly, you rub your nose against his ever so slightly, “Of course.”

“Good.”

Sylus lowers himself back into you, face nuzzling into the crook of your neck. Your arms loop around him, fingers going back to his hair. The silence that envelops you is comforting, the only sound being that of your mingled breath. His warmth covers you so completely, you can’t help but relax, eyelids growing heavier with each second that ticks by. Sylus’ breathing steadily grows deeper, lulling you further and further into sleep. Until you slip under, your lips pressed to his temple as you fall asleep.

And that’s how Luke and Kieran find you the next morning. Cuddled up, with their boss curled around you protectively, like two lounging cats.

You wake up to a notification on your phone.

The picture immediately becomes your new background.

(And secretly, Sylus also makes it his, too.)

---

Hope you enjoyed, my lovely fishies!!!