#he's going to sleep so well. right now in fact

[mejaemin]

touch you, love you - choi seungcheol

(18+ mdni !!) wc: 1.7k summary: for my svt prompt event, cheol + dry humping saves lives. warnings: very slight somno, subby cheollie, dry humping (durr), body image issues, body worship, nipple play, sleepy cheollie, cumming w clothes on, cheol’s tummy 💕💗💖💞💘💝 an: okiii so i KNOW i shouldn’t turn prompt responses into oneshots.. but i started writing this when cheol posted about his cut.. and i just ran w the idea of smut + appreciating his tummy while we have it 😕 enjoy !!! 1 to 13 masterlist!

you don’t want to be up. your body is still so achy with sleep, but the burn between your legs pulls you further and further from your slumber. with one leg draped over seungcheol’s waist, you squeeze a little closer, sighing at the pressure his hip gives you.

you hum, pushing your hips into him a little further, feeling your cunt pulse at even the slightest movement. you look up at him, and he’s still sound asleep, eyebrows furrowed like they get when he’s frustrated. it sparks your curiosity for a moment, yet the need for him, to have him mend the restless ache in your lower half, runs stronger.

you run a hand over his torso, covered in the thick fabric of a hoodie that you don’t remember him falling asleep with. you pull it up to run a hand over his skin, fingers pressing lightly into the soft skin. you can feel the muscle underneath, hard abs hidden beneath a layer of fat, the healthy kind, proof that he works hard and comes home to be loved and fed well.

just the sight of it makes you even more desperate, dragging yourself the rest of the way over his body, straddling his waist, clothed pussy sitting right above his soft length. you push his hoodie up until it’s bunched up under his chin, hips moving a little more bravely as you lean down to press kisses to his skin.

he’s so.. thick, in every sense of the word. when your tongue glides over his chest, you can feel the weight of all the muscle that lays there, and it twitches when your tongue flicks over his nipple. you grind into him a little harder, whining as your hands slide down to his stomach, scratching at the skin in your dazed state of pleasure.

“baby-“ seungcheol grabs your hip with one hand, the other pulling his hoodie back down. “calm down..” he groans, stretching (yes, even with your weight on top of him).

you pout, leaning forward until you’re face to face. “i’m sorry cheollie, just-” you pause, whining at the feeling of him poking you through layers of clothing, “just want you so bad..”

with his arm over his eyes, he lets one open to look at you, body all tense. after a moment, one where he can feel you pulsating on top of him, and he wants to say no, avoid receiving all your attention, but it just feels so good. he can’t even think about the uncomfy attention you give his body when you’re mewling all cutely in his ear, whining as you grind against him so sweetly.

slowly but surely, he holds you by your shoulder to keep you steady, slipping your hands away from his stomach with the other. “go on..”

you hum, leaning down to kiss him gratefully, before pulling back with a pout. “but i can’t touch you..? why do you have this on?” you ask, referring to the hoodie you know he wasn’t wearing when you fell asleep.

“it’s nothing, i just don’t like how i look right now, okay? don’t worry about it.”

that whole statement has you freezing, completely still. he can’t be serious, can he? his beautiful, perfectly crafted body, the one that put you in this state, is something he doesn’t like? it almost makes you mad. in fact, it does, because you can’t believe someone could ever hate something so beautiful.

you look at him, face blank as you tell him, “don’t you ever say shit like that again.” it’s a statement so demanding, full of order, with zero tolerance for anything else. it’s genuinely offensive that he’d think negatively about himself, and you don’t miss the feeling of him pulsing against you at the direction.

he’s silent, and you’re sure it’s a mix of shame and speechlessness, so you use it as an opportunity to take control. slowly, your hand trails up his body, stopping to caress his cheek when you see his unsure expression, before moving up the rest of the way to reach his crown. you run your fingers through his messy hair, slowly and attentively to express as much of your love as you can.

“okay, cheollie.. y’know what we’re gonna do?” you look at him expectantly and continue when he hums in response, “you’re gonna lay here, and take this off..” the whole time that you’re speaking your hands are all over him, rubbing and massaging his muscles, taking his hoodie off to give better access, “and i’m gonna touch you, love you, until you think of yourself the way i think of you. no arguments.”

you know that inside, he’s shy, and his heart is more than fragile, so you make sure to leave room for him to argue, to tell you to stop, or how he doesn’t want you to be in control, but that never comes. you see his eyebrows furrow, his adam’s apple bob as he swallows, before his chest settles with a sigh.

“okay.” he says, voice breaking as it fights between a whisper and regular volume.

you smile, body relaxing at his acceptance, and lean down to press a kiss to his lips. it’s gentle, loving, a contrast to your firm tone, but it is well needed. the purpose of this may be to show him something, a little forcefully, but the goal is to make him feel loved nonetheless.

“my pretty cheollie,” your hands run over his chest, full of toned muscle, yet still soft and pliable. his hands lay on your hips, his own fighting movement against you. “why wouldn’t you like this body, mm..” you hum, the tip of your nose dragging over his chest as you inhale his scent. he’s so.. him, you can’t describe it any other way. he has an aura that never fails to drag you in, magnetizes you to him, and leaves you craving him, sexually and romantically.

you start moving your hips against him again, watching as his lip gets caught in his teeth. he’s still a little tense, fighting the urge to truly relax due to uncertainty. you just keep doing your thing, leaving wet kisses and marks all over his exposed skin, moaning in satisfaction at the sight of his plush skin, all littered in love bites and teeth marks.

“fuck, baby, i-“ he pauses, a moan slipping out when you get caught on his tip, hips bucking up into you, making you respond with one of your own.

“mm, cheollie baby.. so fucking pretty when you moan like that…” you whimper, pressing your hips against him harder as you lean forward, lips wrapping around his nipple.

“ah-“ his voice catches in his throat, back arching into you. his body burns, flaming hot with self consciousness, fading into something.. different, something that creates an uncomfy wet patch in his boxers, makes him hold your hips steady so he can grind into them.

your tongue swirls around his nipple, flicking back and forth against it as your fingers play with the other. maybe it’s his vulnerability, but he’s never been so reactive before, so vocal, and it genuinely makes your pussy ache, gushing and pulsing at how desperate he looks under you. he’s so sensitive, hips shaking with the force they rut into you at, eyes screwed shut as he moans out into the air, hands squeezing your hips like he’ll die if he lets go.

when he calls your name his voice cracks, shaky breaths escaping his lungs, “please, i wanna, hm- want it inside so bad..” he whines, looking at you with the sweetest pout, eyes watery and brows furrowed.

your lips detach from him with a pop, and you stare down at him as you wipe your mouth with the back of your hand. “no.” you swear he looks like he wants to cry, but you just chuckle, going to pepper kisses all over his frown. “cum like this first, agree with me when i say you’re a pretty boy, and maybe then i’ll let you fuck me.”

“hm- fuck, f- fine..” you can tell he wants to complain, put up a fight, but if you’re anything like him, he knows that would be counterproductive.

you smile coyly, leaning down to give him yet another kiss, this time of approval. “go on then, honey. make us cum.”

he wastes no time in picking up the pace of his hips, the fabric against fabric burning in the best way possible, your legs are burning, spread all the way out around his thick waist. you fucking love it, absolutely obsessed with how big and beefy your boyfriend is. he’s literally moving you, holding your whole weight above him as his clothed cock rubs against you with the feverish desperation of a dog.

it makes your eyes roll back, jaw hanging open as you let your hardness slip, gasps turning more and more desperate. your hands grip at seungcheol’s forearms, leaving cherry red scratch marks on the skin. it blends in perfectly, so pretty against all the other marks on his body. observing your work, you can see his stomach moving with every roll of his hips, and just the sight of his body, thick and beautifully built, brings you right over the edge.

“fuck, seungcheol-“ you let out a long, drawn out moan, body going rigid as your vision turns white. he’s right there with you, strings of white leaking through his boxers as he cums against you with a raspy moan.

you fall limp against him, leaving sweet kisses against his chest as you begin to relax. you roll off of him, falling onto your side, using a finger on his cheek to turn his gaze towards you.

“do you see what i see?” you ask, voice genuinely sweet, not a hint of that condescending, mean tone from before.

he pauses, hesitant, “..i’ll learn to. knowing you love it makes me feel better.” he props himself up on an elbow, leaning over to pull you in for a kiss. he’s too shy to verbalize it, but you can feel his gratefulness in the way his lips move against yours, and you can’t help but smile into it.

when he pulls away your hands reach for your panties, slowly sliding them down your legs and throwing them on the floor. “see? it’s that easy, baby. now you can have me.”

thank you so much for reading! please like + reblog to show your love and support ♡ and please give some love to the other prompts from this event !!!! mlist is linked at the top of this page ♡

1 to 13 🏷️ @markkiatocafe @ateez-atiny380

svt 🏷️ @cinnayomiroll @prettymoles @polarisjisung @ikozen @rivercattail @tinkerbell460 @lunaryoongie

[lymtw]

Sweetness

(Toji and His Shy Girl)

It's two in the morning when your eyes blink open from your very brief slumber. Your eyelids feel heavy as you hold them open, but it's nothing compared to the grip your strong craving for something sweet has on you. Toji's soft snores fill your ears, along with the rustling of the blanket as you flip over onto your other side to face him. You move slowly, careful not to make any disruptive movements.

Your vision is limited in the darkness of Toji's room, but the few minutes that you've been awake now has allowed your eyes to somewhat adjust. You can see how handsome he is, even while he sleeps. His lips form an involuntary pout, his dark eyelashes rest against the bags under his eyes. You don't feel as nervous to proceed with your plan of getting your early morning craving handled.

'He's not awake, he's not looking at you...' you think to yourself as you lean forward to press a light kiss on his cheek. Your heart stutters as you lean back to see if that did anything.

Nothing.

So, you go again, with less caution this time because he's in a deep sleep. You leave a few more kisses on his cheek, a couple on his chin, and then, one on the tip of his nose, before leaning back to see your progress. His quiet snoring has subsided, leaving only soft breaths to escape his nose.

You continue on with the soft butterfly kisses on his face. Your lips brush the point of his nose once more, and then you leave the ghost of a peck on his lips, before going to his cheek, again.

This time he hums, right before pulling you in and holding you like a bear protecting its cub.

"Toji," you whisper, tilting your head to try and look at him.

"Mm," he simply grunts, not opening his eyes.

"Can we go to the store?"

He sighs through his nose, a sound riddled with the sleep that held him just a couple minutes ago. "You sleep talking, baby?"

The thought makes a faint smile appear on his lips. You? Dreaming about going to the store with him? It's adorable.

"No, something sweet sounds really good right now. Like some fruit or... I don't know."

A soft hum is his initial response, before the fogginess of his sleep ridden brain clears a little more. "You can't wait a few more hours, doll? It's pretty early and you won't go back to sleep if we get you something sweet," he tries to reason.

He's right. The fact that you woke him up for this makes you feel a little guilty. "Oh... yeah. That's fine. I can wait," you mumble, ready to curl up and try to sleep off your want for something to snack on.

Now he feels guilty. You hardly ask him for anything, and though he feels strongly about you getting a consistent amount of sleep, he knows that it wouldn't kill him to let you have this.

A few seconds go by and you've settled in his arms, again. "Hey, baby," he calls, dragging his fingertips over your lower back. "Gimme a kiss." It's not a test or a way to persuade him. The delicacy of your sweet kisses is not to be taken for granted, but maybe it made him feel worse when you slowly scooted forward and met him halfway for a little peck. You didn't even hesitate to fulfill his request.

"Another one," he murmurs, allowing himself to be selfish with this seemingly endless fountain of your affection. Normally, you're hesitant or nervous, but with you being half asleep, you must not really be thinking about it. "One more," he hums, awaiting the feeling of your lips pressed on his, again. "Mm... that's good stuff, pretty baby. Always the sweetest thing for me, so I think..." he murmurs, his voice audible only between you and him, "...we should go get you something sweet, hm?"

"Are you sure? I really don't mind-"

He cuts you off with another chaste kiss. "I'm sure. You should wake me up like that all the time."

You laugh. "But I don't usually wake you up."

"Well, I like the way you did it just now. All kinds of soft. You wake me up like that and we can do whatever you want whenever you want."

"Okay, then," you agree.

"Put on the dress and we'll head out," he says, referring to his hoodie that you spent most of the night in before you climbed into bed with him. It looked like you were drowning in fabric and Toji was loving every minute of the view. The sleeves hid your hands, effortlessly, and the hem reached your thighs. It fit like a short dress on you.

Toji watches you after putting his shirt on, as you lift the almost heavy material over your head and pull it down, your arms not filling the sleeves once again and your shorts getting lost underneath the fabric. You pull the hood down and it sticks out behind you on its own.

"What?" You ask, in response to the smirk curled on his lips.

"You're not real," he says, stepping towards you. "You just get devoured by my hoodie." He tugs at the front a couple times, observing your face as it slowly deflates and presses against you again. "That's fucking precious."

You're speechless. Your cheeks feel like they've been scorched. You can still vividly feel the way he pulled on the front of the hoodie, gently grazing your stomach.

"I won't forget my sweater next time," you say, deflecting his affectionate words.

He sighs, heavy, pretending to be conflicted. "It'd be a shame if it just... I don't know, got lost when you thought you left it on my couch. Don't you think that would be so unfortunate, doll?"

You hum affirmatively, unable to suppress your grin at his mischievous plan.

"So, I think it's safer to leave your pretty sweaters at home and i'll keep you warm here. I'm doing a pretty good job so far, huh?" He says, letting his eyes roam over you from head to toe.

"Okay, fine," you agree, leaving the room with Toji to retrieve your shoes.

"Fine?" Toji says, entertained as he watches you float along in his enormous hoodie, towards the mat where your shoes and his shoes are. A low, amused chuckle leaves him as he slides into his slippers right beside you. "Sassy baby."

"What? I'm not sassy," you defend.

Toji loves how you look in this moment. Your tired eyes, the smallest, practically nonexistent tinge of hurt in your expression, like you can't stand the idea of being anything other than sweet to him. It's like he bopped you on the nose with a rolled up newspaper and called you a bad girl.

"Not often, but i've witnessed you in sassy mode a few times. You mimic people under your breath when they're being annoying, make a little face and everything."

You thought you were being sly, turned away from him each time you did it, too, but clearly you've underestimated how much of his attention goes to you.

"Oh," you utter, mildly embarrassed.

"It's funny," he says, reaching behind you to grab his keys from the hook they hang on. "You're still my sweet girl... even when you wake me up for snack runs." He mutters the last part, and grins when your expression goes guilty.

"We don't have to," you say, again, smiling softly to show that you really would be okay with him changing his mind and crawling back into bed.

"I'm just messing with you," he says, a playful grin tugging at his lips. "It's gonna cost you a kiss to get that door open, though."

You're tentative about the price. It's a trap. You know it, he knows it, even the walls know it.

"One kiss?" You ask, even when you see the deceit in his eyes and his sly smirk.

He nods. "Just one."

"Okay," you agree, voluntarily walking into that trap you had acknowledged.

The second you feel his arms around your waist, you know you were right. It starts out as promised, a single quick peck, but it quickly turns just as you thought it would. It's as if that single kiss activated his addiction, because one kiss turned to two, then three, until the fourth when you couldn't hold back your giddy giggles. You lean back, never really leaving the cage that is Toji, because he just leans forward and chases after more of your sweet kisses until you can't reciprocate them anymore, completely overtaken by his affectionate attack.

With a final elongated kiss, planted smack on your lips, he lets up and allows you to recompose yourself. It's one of his favorite things to do for a reason—you glow like the sun right in front of him, your unabashed laughter is fueled by something so pure and genuine. You know he's greedy with your affection, and yet you still take that chance every time he says "one kiss."

"W-Was that enough?" You tease, struggling to hold back your laugh.

"To open the door? Yeah. For me? Mm..." He smirks. "Not even close, doll."

So you do him one better, and stand on your tippy toes, a signal Toji picks up and acts on. He leans down again, doesn't cage you in this time, and waits. You close the distance between your lips and his, once more, holding it for a few seconds to ensure that your affection is properly sealed and felt by him. When those few seconds are up and your feet are flat on the ground again, you smile through the nerves. Your cheeks grow warmer as you wait for Toji to unfreeze and say something—anything.

"We're leaving, but when we come back, I want at least twenty more of those. Got it?" He says so seriously that anybody else would think he was scolding you for what you did.

"Got it," you respond, lips twitching amusedly.

"Alright, let's go," he says, nodding towards the door, feeling more motivated to get you that sweetness you craved than before.

[kxsagi]

Salutationsss, hiii, I'm the same anon that sent a request, something abt a nerd readerr, I'm sorry for requesting when you weren't taking at the time! I didn't see 😔. But could I req that same trope again?? Thank so much you for your time!

“𝐞𝐫𝐦 𝐚𝐬𝐜𝐡𝐭𝐮𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 🤓☝️”

a/n: hiii you’re all good, but unfortunately i don’t have that request anymore so i’m not sure what specifically you requested

bc of that, i turned this into headcanons and i hope you don’t mind! 

ft. isagi yoichi, itoshi rin, itoshi sae, kaiser michael, mikage reo, nagi seishiro, shidou ryusei, karasu tabito, bachira meguru

isagi yoichi

yoichi thought he was smart until he started dating you. like sure, he knows tactics, he’s got game IQ, but you? you’re out here solving riddles on a whiteboard like it’s nothing. 

he once asked if you wanted to watch a documentary with him and you said “only if it’s narrated by joe dispenza or has a plot twist at the 30-minute mark.” 

he genuinely thinks you have a superpower. how else do you know this much random stuff? 

"you know how many stars are in the milky way galaxy?" you ask. "no," he says. "good. neither do scientists. but i will ruin your sleep schedule by explaining dark matter." 

yoichi gets this glazed-over look when you go off, like he’s watching god speak through you. 

“bro, how do you know all this?” he whispers in awe as you explain entropy using a sandwich. 

he’s not even mad when you correct his grammar in front of people. in fact, he gets a little flustered. "did you just… teach me something in public? … hot. whatwhosaidthat." 

itoshi rin

rin fell for you after overhearing you quote dostoevsky and then immediately say “but also, the scooby-doo gang was gay-coded.” 

he will die before admitting how hot he finds your brain. like, he’ll glare at you when you start infodumping about the history of the guillotine, but that glare is just him trying not to fall for you. 

you send him 20-slide powerpoints at 3 AM about why light yagami was right, and he reads every single one. he’s unwell. 

once he saw you organizing your bookshelf by theme, subgenre, and emotional damage, and he just… stood there. watching. blinking. 

“you okay?” you ask. “… can i kiss you right now or is that, like, a breach of the fibonacci sequence or whatever.” 

he has an entire notes app folder full of weird phrases you say. once you said “i want to kiss you under the fluorescent lights of an abandoned lab” and he had to take a walk. 

god help anyone who tries to outsmart you because rin doesn’t even jump in to help. he just steps aside like, “yeah, go ahead. she’s got it.” 

itoshi sae

sae met you once and immediately started saying “shut up, nerd” in the most loving tone imaginable. 

like yeah he acts unbothered, but if you stop talking about your interests for five seconds he’s like “… why’d you stop?” 

you once brought a clipboard and a graph to explain how his sleep schedule is ruining his skin elasticity. he hasn’t eaten sugar since. 

he’s obsessed with how you argue. like, someone will say, “i didn’t really like that movie” and you’ll go, “well actually, the entire point of the cinematography was to mimic isolation, so your brain’s just too small for the themes.” 

and sae’s in the corner nodding proudly like “yeah. eat ‘em alive, baby.” 

he won’t ever admit it out loud, but if you ever stopped being smart? he would simply perish. 

also: he absolutely starts fights on twitter just to screenshot them and send them to you like “babe, look what this idiot said. go ruin him.” 

kaiser michael

oh he lives for this. the way you ramble about history and sprinkle in “violence”? he is down BAD. 

kaiser will interrupt you mid-rant just to be annoying. like you’re explaining molecular structures and he goes “explain it to me like i’m five… and make it sexy.” “the mitochondria is the powerhouse of the cell.” “well then i am the powerhouse of this relationship.” “please stop talking.” 

if you cosplay? he is fully in character. fake accent. dramatic monologue. he once spent $200 on a fake sword just to match your anime aesthetic. 

calls you “my little google doc” or “professor schatz” in public and refuses to stop. 

he 100% cheats off your notes if you take a class together. 

also once used your obsession with linguistics as an excuse to kiss you mid-sentence: “wait wait, how do you pronounce lo–” smooch “oops. distracted you. guess i win.” 

you're the only person on earth that can out-argue him. and he loves it. even when you humiliate him in a debate club meeting in front of six people. especially then. 

mikage reo

rich. nerd. simp. this man once bought you a whiteboard wall so you could explain conspiracy theories and niche film symbolism uninterrupted. 

he funds your hobbies like it’s a government project. need 72 highlighters in pastel? boom. got ‘em. a limited edition sailor moon notebook with gold foil? already shipped. “i just need this for journaling, reo.” “you mean world domination. say less.” 

he loves pretending he doesn’t understand what you’re talking about just to hear you explain it like a teacher. 

he’ll sit there all wide-eyed like, “woah, tell me more about black holes.” 

you once built a 3D model of the solar system for fun. he walked in, saw saturn, and said, “hey babe. just like saturn, i’ll adorn you with the most beautiful rings in the universe.” 

he once got jealous because you were paying more attention to your manga than him. “you’ve been reading for three hours.” “i’m at the part where they confess their undying love, you can’t interrupt now–” “… i’ll confess my undying love right now if it gets me eye contact.” 

nagi seishiro

nagi doesn’t understand a single thing you’re talking about, but he loves the way you talk. 

you could be explaining the lifecycle of a parasite and he’d just go “cool... say that again but slower. it sounded pretty.” 

he gets very attached to your reading time. you’ll be curled up with a book and he’ll just drape himself over you like a weighted blanket and nap while you whisper lore. 

you tried to teach him a game strategy once using chess pieces and he got bored halfway through and started kissing your neck. “sei, focus.” “i am focused. on the smartest person i know.” 

he secretly loves it when you make schedules, take notes, organize everything – he feels calmer with your brain leading the way. 

you once said, “i’d choose you even in a logic simulation.” and he got so flustered he forgot how to hold his phone for five minutes. 

shidou ryusei

you are the one person on earth who intimidates him. not because you’re loud, but because you’re smart and savage. 

he’ll say something like “gravity’s a myth” and you’ll deadpan, “so is your personality.” 

he flirts with you just to hear what kind of insults you’ll hurl back. 

you’ll be like “actually, that’s a misinterpretation of the theory of relativity” and he’ll be like “wow. you wanna kiss me or correct me harder, nerdzilla?” 

he once called your bookshelf a “nerd shrine” and you kicked him out. he came back with snacks and a post-it that said “i’ll behave if you teach me about the holy trinity”. 

he thinks it’s hilarious when you use big words. starts repeating them wrong on purpose. “you’re being extremely cacophonous right now.” “aw, thanks. i try.” 

he says he doesn’t care about your trivia. but the next week, he quotes you during a fight with a ref. “well actually, statistically speaking, you’re 73% more likely to suck.” 

karasu tabito

karasu walked in on you doing sudoku while eating spicy ramen and watching a documentary and went, “yep. that’s my girl.” 

he teases you constantly but don’t let that fool you – he brags about you to everyone. “yeah, she solved a murder mystery in two minutes. sexy, right?” 

he once found your annotated copy of crime and punishment and was like “damn, she’s not just a menace, she’s an educated menace.” 

he makes fun of your color-coded calendar, but then uses it religiously. 

calls your bookbag your “bat-nerd utility belt.” 

you once said “i organize chaos with knowledge” and he choked on his water because how are you both terrifying and hot at the same time. 

he 100% made you a trivia quiz as a date activity and cried when you got a perfect score. 

“i can’t even spell aesthetic,” he sniffled. “but you… you're a weapon of intellect.” 

bachira meguru

bachira thinks your brain is the eighth wonder of the world. he stares at you when you talk like you’re casting a spell. 

he mimics you when you start nerding out. “so actually, the evolution of language–” 

“babe, are you possessed again? blink twice if you’re still in there.” 

he brings you weird niche books from secondhand stores and is like “i got this because it looks cursed. i knew you’d love it.” 

he once watched you do a sudoku puzzle and got jealous of the numbers. “why are you smiling at that box like that.” 

loves playing study music and drawing you while you read. your “reading face” is his favorite thing ever. 

he doesn’t get half the things you say but if someone else calls you a nerd? he’s biting ankles. no hesitation. 

© 𝐤𝐱𝐬𝐚𝐠𝐢

[queersyourgender]

Robby is literally in love with Jack and reader’s relationship and loves hanging out with them, but doesn't realise they actually want Robbyto join in and try to woo him.

Dream Vacation — Michael “Robby” Robinavitch x GN!Reader x Jack Abbot

Notes: None here, just Robby getting rizzed up by Jack and Reader, like he deserves!!

———

“Hey Robby, what's your dream vacation?” You ask him casually as you hop onto the couch beside him, wriggling yourself underneath his arm as you're wont to do. Jack watches you fondly, mouthing a teasing very subtle in your direction, which you don't grace with a response as you turn to look up at Robby instead.

He's blushing, bless his heart, and you don't know if it's from the proximity or the affection, but you know it's absolutely adorable all the same. Jack grabs the fancy wine, the one you two keep tucked in the back of your cabinet for special occasions, and starts pouring glasses for all three of you while Robby computes.

The older man looks down at you with a smile, entirely pretending that his face isn't red. “Honestly? I've always wanted to go to Hawaii,” he says, shrugging his shoulders slightly and gently tapping your arm in a way that tells you doesn't even realize he's doing it. 

You gasp dramatically, shooting up like a bullet and looking at him with wide, incredulous eyes. “Am I hearing this right? Are you saying you've never been to Hawaii?” You demand, only lightly playing it up for effect, because you're genuinely shocked by this information. When the older man nods at you, you turn to your partner with a look.

“And you just let this stand?” You ask Jack, exaggerated horror lacing your voice, and he laughs as he hands you and Robby your respective wine glasses then takes a seat on the opposite side of him, squishing him between you two. You bury yourself back where you were and start aggressively tapping away at your, pulling up hotel-booking websites right then and there. “I can't believe you've never been when you know Jack and I have gone, like, a gazillion times!”

“It was twice,” Jack corrects you from the other end of the couch, leaning into Robby's side and not-so-subtly pushing the sides of their thighs together. Now it's your turn to mouth his words back at him, and all he does is wink at you in return. “But honestly, babe, you're right. How come you've never been, Robby?”

Robby snorts at the words, looking between the two of you in amusement. “Why would I go?” He asks easily, like it was just that simple. “What's the point in paying all that money if I'm just going to spend my time off sleeping anyway? I don't have anyone to go with.”

Both you and Jack look at each other above his head, your eyes connecting with lightning speed as you both notice the opportunity at the same time. Immediately, you seize it. “Well…” You start coyly, leaning further into his side and looking up at him through your lashes. “You could always come with us.”

You see his eyes widen significantly, and you see the way his pupils physically blow, as if the image of the three of you being on a romantic getaway is flashing before his eyes. He swallows and laughs nervously, cocking a brow at you like he's unsure he even heard you correctly.

“Oh yes, rather than go on vacation alone, I'll just go on vacation as a third wheel,” he jokes, and you can't help the way your face turns into one of pure exasperation. You turn to Jack like he's an invisible camera from The Office, and your man, the traitor, immediately throws his head back and starts laughing.

Robby glances between the two of you, looking more confused than he's ever been yet still smiling just because of the mere fact that Jack is laughing. It fills your chest with so much warmth that that's all it takes to make him happy, you two's happiness. If only he wasn't oblivious to the fact that it goes both ways.

“Oh, brother, you're hopeless,” Jack says, after finally being done laughing at your miserable expression. He puts his wine glass down on the table before the three of you and turns his attention to Robby. Very deliberately, he settles a hand on his knee, just medially enough to be practically between his legs, and looks him dead in the eyes as he corrects him. “Trust me, that is not what we meant.”

Robby's jaw drops in disbelief, his face turning an alarming shade of red as he looks down at Jack's hand then back up at his best friend's intense gaze, and you immediately leap forward and smack Jack on the shoulder. “Abort! Abort! That's way too forward!” You exclaim. “You're gonna scare him off!”

“Scare me off?” Robby repeats, once he finds his voice, glancing between the two of you like he's never seen either of you in his life before this moment. “What do you mean, scare me off? What's going on here?”

Jack looks gives you a deadpan look, as if to say see? And you can't help but laugh slightly. “What's going on is that we've been trying to woo you for ages,” you finally say, laying your cards out on the table for all to see as you look at Robby fondly. “We know you like us, and we like you, too.”

Robby's face radiates heat as he looks between the two of you. You place a hand on his chest, and grin hard when you find his heart racing underneath your palm. Jack hums and leans ever closer, placing his hand above your own. “What do you say, Robby?” He murmurs softly. “Wanna go on that dream vacation with us?”

“Yes,” Robby says quickly, so quickly he seems to startle himself with the speed he answered with. You squeal your happiness and wrap your arms around his shoulders, while Jack laughs brightly and pulls both of you close.

[pagesfromthevoid]

Spirit Week | b.b. | 4

Bradley Bradshaw x librarian!reader

Word Count: 2k

Warnings: None

Author’s Note: I got to put my surf knowledge to use here. Also went surfing before I posted this. Love when art reflects real life. This is her board!

Masterlist | Talk to Me! | Coffee?

She wakes up, bright and early, the next morning to two very distinct scents:

Fresh coffee and surfboard wax.

The coffee is the first and most immediate smell, and it’s what draws her out of bed. Reminds her that last night was, in fact, real and that Bradley is in her kitchen, starting his day like he lives there. Like he intends to stay there.

Except he’s not in her kitchen when she walks out, clad still in his shirt and now a pair of sleep shorts she’s pulled on. There is coffee in the pot, and it’s still steaming, so he’s there but as she pokes her head into the living room then checks the bathroom –he’s nowhere to be found.

Until she smells the very familiar scent of Sex Wax, and notices her garage door is open. Brow raised, she pushes it open further and leans against the doorframe. It’s such a strange sight before her; one that she hasn’t seen in so many years. One that, really, used to be common when she was a kid but she never imagined she’d see again.

It makes her heart ache in the best ways.

Bradley is sitting on his knees, longboard in his lap, and he’s reapplying wax to her board. There’s a pile of scraped off wax next to him, and he’s gone through at least one bar already redoing her favorite surfboard.

It’s the same board she had in high school, having never had a desire to replace it for sentimental reasons. Her dad had picked it out for her; a NSP Surf Betty that was too tall for her at one point but is the perfect size now –the girliest board imaginable, with its bright pink and purple flowers, but still her favorite. She’s rode several different shapes, sizes, and brands but she never could get over how well her silly Surf Betty fit her needs.

Seeing Bradley fixing it up for her –removing wax that’s probably a decade old itself –makes her smile fondly.

“Is this part of our date today?” She asks, pushing off the doorframe and sitting down in front of him finally.

He looks up and turns a bit pink in the ears, but nods some with a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “Mav called –invited us for a beach day for team bonding. I thought we’d bring your board so you didn’t have to sit and watch us play football.”

“So no date, huh?” She teases, but she doesn’t really mind. Not after last night.

“That’s not what I said,” he counters, and the way he’s working the wax onto her board is distracting as his arm flexes from the movement. It’s deliberate, and careful, and she has the sudden urge to kiss him again. But he’s speaking again. “And I told him I had to check with you first anyway. I figured we’d grab breakfast –a good one, at Denny’s just like you love for surfing –then head to the beach. Get you in the water again, take you out to lunch. Then we go to your school bonfire thing.”

There’s a moment where she’s just silent, staring up at him. Of all the things to remember, going to Denny’s most certainly wasn’t something she’d expect him to recall. Her dad used to take her right before every early morning session, and after every contest. It was just their thing, and she loved it. It bled into her sessions with her friends –with Bradley –soon after she started driving.

“Hey, hey, hey,” he’s saying suddenly, setting the board to the side and pulling her into his arms. It’s then that she realizes she’s misty eyed, and on the verge of crying. Now she’s letting out a watery laugh as he wraps his arms around her gently. “What’s wrong?”

“Oh, god, nothing,” she promises, wiping her eyes. “I was just…I was thinking about how nice it is that you remember something so stupid like going to Denny’s before going surfing. And how sweet it is that you’re fixing up my board for me.”

“Oh,” he sighs in relief, pressing his lips to her shoulder. Her hand finds the back of his head where she runs her fingers through his hair as she rests her head against his. “I thought I fucked up our first date already.”

“Opposite,” she promises as he looks up at her through his lashes. Then she kisses his temple lightly before pulling away. “Let me get dressed, and we’ll swing by your place to get your stuff.”

“Hey.” And he’s pulling her back, draping her arms around his neck and holding her waist gently. “I meant it last night. I’ve always loved you. Remembering you like to go to Denny’s is the least I can do to prove it.”

“I don’t think you need to prove it,” she reassures, pressing a quick kiss to his lips. Just as he’s about to return it though, she’s pulling back and standing. “C’mon lieutenant.”

Penny greets them as they walk down to the beach, eyeing both her surfboard and Bradley with a knowing grin on her face. Maverick does the same, but stops them before they reach the squad.

“Now that’s a board I haven’t seen in years,” he jokes, motioning to see it. She hands it over with a soft smile, and he looks it over fondly. “I remember when you got this thing. It was three feet too tall and you couldn’t even carry it.”

Taking it back, she shrugs with a small laugh. “Hard to get rid of something that works perfectly, even twenty years later.”

“Can’t argue with that,” he grins knowingly, looking at Bradley who just rolls his eyes. “Sorry for stealing him. It’s a tradition though.”

“No big deal,” she promises. “Gives me an excuse to get in the water for a bit.”

Maverick nods with another chuckle but returns to Penny’s side as Bradley and her join the others finally. Everyone is already shirtless, and the counselor is laying on the beach with a hat over her face. She can’t help but snicker at the idea that her friend took today off to be in bed all day —and now she’s sitting on the beach against her will at seven in the morning.

“So much for being in bed, huh?” She teases, setting down her board beside her friend.

“Fuck off,” the counselor groans, peeking up from under her hat.

“Hungover or horny?”

“Yes.”

“Double whammy,” she laughs as she takes out her sunscreen then slips off her shirt.

Her eyes drift to the group of aviators, who are all laughing and talking, picking out their teams. She can’t help watching Bradley as she works the sunscreen into her skin. Absolutely unfair how perfect he looks without a shirt on. Like very truly —all hard lines and angles, freckled and healed over scars, tanned and somehow already sweaty.

Their eyes meet, and he grins at her with a little wave. She returns the gesture and immediately sits on her board in the sand, working her legs now.

“They’re all disgustingly hot,” her friend comments suddenly, having sat up now. “It’s not even fair, honestly.”

“It really isn’t,” she agrees with a sigh. But she’s still staring at Bradley as their game starts. “How long did it take you to stop just staring at Jake?”

“Yeah, you don’t,” the counselor admits, and her eyes are on her pilot. “We’ve been dating nearly a year and I can’t stop staring at him. And he knows. Fucking attention seeker.” But the counselor turns and faces her now, giving her full attention to the librarian. “But we know that. Tell me about last night. You left. Penny said she had to stop you guys from ruining the parking lot.”

“Oh my god,” she groans, covering her face. “That’s not —okay, that’s kind of what happened. But not really! His truck doesn’t even have a cover on it!”

“Ooh,” her friend teases. “I didn’t think you were an exhibitionist.”

“Jesus, I’m not.”

“That’s good, I was worried I was losing my touch as a psychology major,” she laughs, throwing her head back. “What did happen, then?”

Recounting the story, she thinks she’s supposed to feel embarrassed. But there’s no embarrassment; just a giddy feeling in her chest and belly when she talks about how soft he was. How kind he was. How much love there is already, even after this time. She admits to ruining the moment, sitting half naked in her bed and suddenly telling him she’s always loved him. And the counselor is just staring, enraptured by the whole story.

She’s waiting for her friend to comment, to pick apart telling him she loved him still. But the counselor just smiles at her softly, sitting up.

“I’m glad you found him again,” she says, then she’s looking over at the group playing. “I hated Max anyway. He was a dick with so many red flags.”

“Oh, I know,” the librarian sighs, but then she’s standing up and picking up her board. “You made it so very clear every time you talked to him.”

“You’re distracted, Rooster,” Phoenix complains as Hangman makes another touchdown.

She’s right, of course. Bradley is distracted. His best friend —girlfriend? He’s going to go with girlfriend, fuck it —is right there, in the water. Skin slick with salt water and the sun reflecting off her like she’s a goddamn siren or something. Every time she sits up past the break, Bradley can’t help himself as he pauses to watch her. Doesn’t matter that she’s just sitting there, bobbing over the waves.

It’s just…surreal. How many times did he sit on the beach and watch her, just like this? Staring, waiting for her to look at him so he could do this exact same thing?

Only now, she’s his. He doesn’t have to look away and blush, or feel like a creep. He can stare freely, because she’s his and he doesn’t even care that he’s pissing off his teammates.

“Aw c’mon, Phoenix,” Hangman interrupts, clapping a hand on his shoulder. “Man’s in love. Can’t blame him for watchin’ his girl.”

“Yeah, so are you though and you’re not staring at your girlfriend,” Fanboy points out, laughing now.

“My girlfriend is much meaner when I don’t win,” Hangman counters, though he’s looking over at his girl, who is flicking him off from under her umbrella. “I can’t afford to be distracted.”

Bradley rolls his eyes, but he’s distracted again as he watches her paddle into a wave. Then he’s standing there, arms crossed over his chest as she pushes up on the board and drops into the wave like it’s the most natural thing in the world for her to do. He’s just so enamored by her movements —the swing of her hips to pull the board up to the lip of the wave then snapping them back down to keep going, the way she’s able to step forward quickly to keep the momentum going. It’s nothing short of graceful.

“She’s always been a natural,” Maverick suddenly says. Bradley isn’t sure how long he’s been standing there.

“Yeah.” There’s a pause then he turns to Maverick. “How soon is too soon to marry someone?”

Maverick lets out a bark of laughter, putting a hand on his shoulder. Bradley looks at him with a shit eating grin but he’s serious. And he’s waiting for an answer as Maverick finally stops laughing.

“Rooster,” he says, and for a moment, Maverick isn’t looking at him. It’s like he’s looking past him. “Your dad asked me the exact same question when he met your mom.”

Bradley suddenly knows why Maverick isn’t looking at him. It’s because he’s looking at Goose —at his father. Lost in the past; almost too painful for Bradley to ever understand. And there’s an overwhelming feeling in his chest as Maverick finally comes back to the present. There’s a softer smile on his godfather’s face; it’s sad. Like there’s still guilt that is just simmering below the surface.

“And what’d you tell him?” Bradley asks, voice soft. Almost trembling.

“When you know, you know. There’s no such thing as too soon.”

———

Taglist: @bowchickawowowww

[goorgeousz]

tattoo your name across my heart (so it will remain) | aaron hotchner

18+ MDNI

pairing: aaron hotchner x wife!reader summary: you surprise your husband by having his signature tattooed.  content/tw: SMUT (mdni), p in v sex, unprotected sex, cum play, incorrect use of a tattoo (well…), fem reader, reader has a tattoo, brief mentions of masturbation, lmk if i missed something! word count: 3.8k a/n: based on this request ! i got carried away with this smut ngl… anyway hope you enjoy it 💗🪽 dividers by @uzmacchiato

masterlist

It has been about three weeks since Aaron had any alone time with his wife. And it’s safe to say – he came to terms with that – it was going to kill him.

In the jet, on the plane ride home, he watched the hours on his phone turn into midnight, adding another day to his already too long count. Between cases, consults and politics that unfortunately came with the job, Hotch found himself spending more and more time away from home. He hated every second of it.

It wasn’t just that he was tired – which he was, so damn exhausted–, on top of it all, he just missed you. After all those years, all of the horror he faced, he found you. To say you were his confort was an understatement. You were his solace. And he was fine working late hours, double shifts, sleepless nights, cases after cases. He could handle it like a pro. As long as you were by his side.

Because of this, a few hours later, as soon as he opened his front door to face your sleeping form – in a position that if he tried, he would pull probably all the muscles on his back – on the sofa, with the tv playing your favorite movie, he finally felt like he could breathe.

Even though he tried his hardest to walk in without waking you up, as soon as he set his keys on the table you snapped your eyes open, your sleepy face morphing into a smile instantly as your eyes landed on him. He chuckled as you stood up quickly and awkwardly, stumbling on your way to meet him. In a second he picked you up in a tight hug, and you wrapped your legs around his waist as he carried you back to the couch, settling down with you straddling him.

“Hey, honey” he whispered, and you tilted your head back from his neck to take a better look at him.

“You seem tired.” you whispered, tracing the dark circled on his eyes. He nodded in agreement, a smile still playing on his lips.

“I’m sorry I woke you.”

“You don’t look too sorry.” you tease, playing with the flesh of his bottom lip, referring to the blinding smile he still failed to stifle.

“I just miss you.”

“I miss you too, baby.” you say, leaning in to finally kiss him. You almost how it felt, to have his tongue exploring your mouth, his big calloused hands roaming everywhere, the heat of his body pressed against yours.

Almost.

But not really.

Even if you tried, you could never forget it. Actually, the real struggle was to stop thinking about it. You spent three weeks apart, and you thought about this, about him, every single night. And days too. You waited anxiously but patiently – barely – for this moment.

Now that was finally here, you wouldn’t postpone it anymore.

So, as much as it hurt to pull back from the kiss – that was already too heated for you to think properly –, you gathered all your strength and did it, holding him by the shoulders to keep his mouth away from you. The sight of his red and swollen lips, contrasting with the small stubble he managed to grow because of the lack of time to shave, was distracting enough, and if you weren’t so excited to surprise him you would’ve just pulled his pants down and showed how much you missed him.

“Are you free?”

“What?” his voice was hoarse, and his eyes were a mix of pure lust and confusion, and you almost laughed.

“Like, right now. Are you free? Do you have time?”

“Is this a trick?”

You giggled, kissing the tip of his nose, trying not to swoon too much on the fact that he tilted his head to try and steal a kiss from you as you did it.

“No, baby. I’m just asking.” your tone made him stop for a second, his eyes narrowing in suspicion.

“Why?” you rolled your eyes.

“Just answer.” “Yes, I’m all yours. Now, tell me what you’re up to?” you laughed, enjoying teasing him a little too much.

“Nothing!” and you purposefully high pitched your voice, and he crossed his arms in front of his chest.

You laughed loudly when he said your name like a warning tone “Tell me.”

“I have nothing to tell you” you started in a fakely-innocent tone “But I’ll show you…” he sat up straight, fixing you on your lap, curious and impatient to find out what you were talking about. Having too much fun torturing him, you bit your lower lip to stiff a laugh and settled a little further away on his legs for him to face your torso properly. He raised his eyebrows, not having any idea about what you were going with but not taking his eyes off you.

“Are you ready?” you asked, teasingly.

“Honey.” he whined, squeezing your hips. Laughing a little more, you slowly reached for the hem of your sweater, and in a pace that could qualify as torturous you lifted it slowly. Hotch’s lips curled into a smirk, and you almost laughed in anticipation.

You stopped right when your shirt reached the base of your breasts, not fully putting them on display but enough for part of your nipple to be seen. Aaron’s face went from sly to shocked to fully in awe in a matter of five seconds.

Between your left rib and your chest, on the exact part where the flesh becomes softer and fuller, you had his name tattooed in black ink and in his hand write, from his signature on a letter he wrote you out of nowhere.

“Holy shit.” he muttered as his eyes roamed between the little spot under your tits and your face, like he was unsure if you were pranking him “Is this… real?”

“Yeah, it is.” you laughed, trying not to make too much fun of him. He was in shock, after all.

Still watching it closely he asked, his tone soft and low “When?”

“Almost three weeks ago. I was supposed to surprise you when I got it done, but we never had the time.” you explained. He watched you with that apologetic expression, which fortunately didn’t last, since he immediately dived back into his study. “Do you like it?” you asked, trying to hide the nervousness in your voice. It seemed like it didn’t work, the way he looked at you like you were crazy for asking, and immediately pulled you into a kiss full of passion.

As much as he wanted to kiss you, and he truly did, he pulled away with a mumbled “Sorry” and went back to staring at your new accessory. “Did it hurt?”

“Yeah, like crazy . It’s a very bone-y part.” you explained, repeating the words your tattoo artist told you “I’m lucky you have a short name.” you joked, kissing the tip of his nose.

“I’m the lucky one.” he answered, not taking his eyes from the ink, completely hypnotized by the look. “Thank you, honey. I love it. I love you.”

“I love you too.” you whispered, blushing.

His fingertips grazed the ink, feeling its subtle hump against your soft flesh. It only lasted a second, though. He immediately pulled his hands back, looking at your face with worry “It’s healed?”

“Oh, yes. Fully healed.” you guaranteed, touching it to prove your words. He nodded, immediately going back to his caresses.

“I can’t believe it. This is… Wait…” he stopped, reaching for his phone on the armrest of the couch “can I?” you giggled.

“Of course.” you posed as he took about a dozen of pictures: with and without your face, holding your waist and your hip, pushing your sweater higher and in a more family-friendly — as much as it could possibly be with the placement of the tattoo — height. 

“Are you making fun of me?” he asked boredly at you about your laughing fit. You swore to god you didn’t make fun of him, but it was really hard to remain serious when he held out his phone and took pictures of you like an old man — which he was.

“No!” you answered, not sounding even remotely real.

To your surprise, in a matter of a second or less, Aaron threw his phone back on the couch and placed you on your back on the couch, hovering above you.

“Oh, hi.” you whispered weakly. He smirked down at your figure, pushing your sweater off of you, leaving you with nothing but your pajama shorts.

“Still can’t believe you did this.” Aaron distributed kisses all along your face and neck “Do you have any idea how much this means to me?”

“I think I can see that you liked it.” you giggled, feeling your voice trembling as he reached your pulse point.

“Then I’ll make you be sure.”

And just like that, you felt the temperature of the room rising from the heat between the two of you. After all that time apart, without having time even for conversation, there was no single cell in your body that didn’t want to be completely surrendered by him. It’s not just physical anymore: your body, mind and soul craved Aaron Hotchner.

He wasn’t any different, you could see by the urge on his touch, the neediness on his kisses and the way that every time he moved away from you, even for a second, even if just to take the remaining clothes off, his eyes glistened in panic a little, like not feeling your skin on his caused him literal pain.

When his fingers dipped down your folds, hungrily chasing that sweet spot that made your toes curl, you saw stars. Usually he would tease, play, test your patience and his strength, but not tonight. Not after all that time. Not when he just found out you had his name tattooed on your skin.

“I need you so much, sweetheart.” he mumbled, desperately, his rock hard cock weighing down against your upper thighs. Just as he was about to apologize for not taking things slower, you hooked your legs around his waist, pressing your calves against his lower back and guiding him into your entrance.

“Aaron, I swear to god if you don’t fuck me right now…” you hissed, pulling the short strands of his hair, in a light hearted threat. He chuckled darkly, not daring to go against your commands, and thrusting his cock inside of you.

The first stretch, even if it was just his tip, always felt something out of this world. The feeling of having him inside of you, invading your space, was so delicious it quite literally took your breath away. It was the only moment you could afford to take it slow, to savour it. Staring deep into each other’s eye to take in that contact, both your breaths already wrecked, chests heavily moving with each exhale, trying to collect as much oxygen as possible.

Aaron spent almost a minute like that, just enjoying the feeling of your spongy walls evolving him, completely hooked on your wet eyes, already watering up at the unbearable pleasure of having him inside of you again. A slow smirk made its way on his face, and you involuntarily clenched in anticipation.

“How healed is this?” his tone was husky as he graced the pad of his calloused thumb on your tattoo.

You gulped, arching your back in his direction “Completely.”

“Are you sure?”

“Mhm.” you agreed anxiously, trying not so subtly to urge him to just get on with it. He chuckled, amused by your desperation – as if he wasn’t just as needy, if not more.

“Enough for me to… play with it?” that made you stop for a second. You were yet to find a thing that Aaron did in bed that you didn’t like, but you couldn’t even come up with a way for him to play with your tattoo. Either way, your body reacts before you, shuddering in excitement at whatever he wanted to do to you.

“What do you…” you tried, curiosity overcoming the pleasure and neediness you felt. As in defy, he thrust himself deeper into you, and you immediately forgot any questions you could possibly have formed “Yes!” you yelped “Do anything. Everything. Please.”

He chuckled again, but you couldn’t find it in yourself to care about his smugness “As you wish.” he murmured, kissing you languidly.

His hands were everywhere, pinching, squeezing and massaging every possible surface of your body he could reach – which, to sum up, was all of it – and his touches, his kisses combined with his cock now completely bottomed out on you was pushing you dangerously close to the edge already. If the way you were moving slowly under him wasn’t enough of a tell, your needy moans definitely did the job.

In a movement that made you yelp in surprise, Aaron sneaked his arms under you and picked you up, pulling you back to the previous position – you straddling him – without even pulling out. Instead of properly sitting, now he leaned back against the back of the couch, his legs spreaded in that way that screamed dominance, with his hands propped firmly on your hips while he watched you with half lidded eyes.

The new angle made him reach even deeper, bumping that sweet spot with each thrust that made your toes curl. Pressing your knees on the fluffy couch, you planted your palms on his chest for leverage and started bouncing up and down on his shaft, your eyes rolling back with pleasure.

“My pretty, pretty wife. So devoted to me.” he whispered, caressing your tattoo once again. The touch made your back arch, angling your chest closer to his face like a magnet “So fucking beautiful.”

“A-Aaron, I don’t think I’ll last…” you whined, stopping moving up and down and rolling your hips, pressing yourself further into him and getting off on the feeling of his tip against your cervix.

“Don’t hold back now, honey.” he smirked, tightening his grip on your hip and grinding your core against him, his dick still buried deep inside of you. With his permission and the overwhelming stimulation, it didn’t take long until you came, your whole body shaking with the strength of it “Thaaat’s it, baby. So good.” he coached, still rolling your hips until a tear streamed down your face in overwhelm.

Your head was heavy, leaned against his shoulder as you felt your whole body limp. He was still inside of you, not pulling out but not moving either. He kept still, whispering sweet nothings to your ear, his fingers drawing lazy patterns on your waist. As soon as you came down from your high, you laughed weakly.

“That was embarrassing quick.” you muttered, feeling yourself blush.

“You can never last when I fuck you after days with just your fingers.” he stated, matter-of-factly. You yelped in surprise, burying your face on his chest, giving a light smack on his arm.

“Aaron!” you whined, embarrassed. He chuckled.

“It’s true.” you groaned in protest, and he pulled you back up “Don’t you dare hide from me.” he warned, pulling you back into a sitting position. You moaned at the shift, still too sensitive. “I’m not done yet.” he stated, and you involuntarily clenched at the promise, making him smirk under a moan at the feeling “And neither are you, I see.”

Before you could scold him again, he pulled your torso into his direction, softly touching your tattoo with his mouth, with a light kiss that was barely there. “Oh” you whispered, surprised at how soft it was, and how much it turned you on. He smiled against your skin, his teeth grazing on your flesh right before he deepened the kiss, licking and sucking the sensitive spot and fully making out with the base of your tit.

He was the only one to blame as you tilted your head back, moaning and pushing your chest fully into his face, rolling your hips again. Aaron wasn’t far behind, placing one hand on your back to pull you even closer – as if it was possible –, while the other massaged your other tit with intent.

“So fucking pretty.” he chantet, looking up at you like you were a statue belonging to a museum “My beautiful baby, with my name signed on her tits.” he dived back to your tattoo, and you hummed in agreement, thrusting yourself up and down on his shaft in shallow movements, not wanting to compromise his passioned kisses on your skin. “You’re mine.”

“I’m all yours, Aaron.” you moaned the agreement, fastening your pace.

“Can you give me one more?” he asked, and somehow it sounded like a command. You nodded, biting your lower lip, already feeling the second orgasm close. He smirked, not even needing your confirmation to know it was “Good girl.” and he chuckled as you moaned at the praise, already too gone to even care.

He kept kissing, licking and sucking the ink on your flesh, but when his hand dived into the point where your bodies intertwined and pressed his thumb against your clit in fast circular motions, you lost it. Grasping on his hair for dear life, pulling it and pressing him deeper into your chest like you wanted him to melt into you, you moaned as you felt your body losing its composure. 

“You’re coming for me… Hmm? Come all over my dick again.” he coached, and you had nothing to do but moan his name. “I’m not fucking asking.” he snaped, shutting his teeth in your tattoo. The sharp sting made its way directly into your clit, and you came immediately after, with nothing but whines and moans.

“Aaron, fuck.” and when your second orgasm crashed into you, your vision blurred, tears streamed down your face and your ear rang.

This time. He wasn’t being tender with it. With his lips still latched under your tits, he placed both his hands firmly on your ass cheeks, pressing you so hard against him that you could feel his cock twitching on your cervix. He snapped his hips on yours, thrusting himself up to you in quick and desperate motions, moaning and groaning on your flesh.

Feeling your orgasm dragging more than what you thought it was possible, you were a dizzy mess, absolutely loved being used by him. If you weren’t so spent, you’d probably come again just because of this. Just as you felt your pussy clenching like a claw around him, he pushed your torso away from him, making you sit straight.

“Get off.” he commanded, tapping your hip urgently. You were dizzy, your brain watching everything in slow motion.

“What?” you asked, confused. He groaned, losing his patience and picking you up by the back of your thighs, pulling yourself against him. Your brows furrowed in confusion, not understanding why he wanted it to stop before he could come inside you – his favorite way of coming, mind you.

With a sly grin, he pumped himself a few times under your attentive eye, your mouth agape open in realisation. He bit his lip to stifle a groan, aiming his cock to your tits and making himself come on them. You didn’t realize you were moaning until the sound reached your ears, but you couldn’t find it in yourself to care.

You watched in awe as he painted your tits and rib white, his cum covering the dark ink of your tattoo like an art of his own. You waited until the ropes of his seed stopped pumping out of him, wiping his tip with your thumb and earning a hiss from him. You giggled as you pressed your thumb on your thumb, humming at its salty taste. Aaron’s half lidded eyes didn’t miss a single movement of yours, watching like his own personal porn as you spreaded his cum all over your tits like a lotion, bringing your sticky fingers to your mouth from time to time.

He laughed, rubbins his hand on his temple like he had no idea what he did to deserve that.

“I missed you.” you pouted. He laughed again, shaking his head in disbelief.

“I missed you. I don’t deserve you. I love you so much.” he said between kisses, wanting nothing more than to never be apart from you again. You felt yourself melting with his words and his tenderness.

As he carried your limp body upstairs to the shower, both of you giggling and kissing like teenagers, you sighed satisfied.

“You good?” he asked, already out of breath.

“Much better, thanks.” you answered, shifting your hand tighter on his arms. He chuckled. “Don’t ever do that again?”

“No?” he arched his eyebrows, his gaze falling to your sticky chest. You rolled your eyes, blushing.

“Not that. That you can do any time. I meant, don’t stay away from me for that long.”

“Oh, sure. I promise.” he dipped his head quickly to give you a kiss as he placed you on the bathroom counter. “For starters, I’ll work from home for the rest of the week.”

You laughed loudly “That’s all it took? A tattoo and now I have my husband home for a week?”

He rolled his eyes, waiting for the water to warm up. “Stop it.” “If I’d known,” you started teasingly, hopping off the counter and stepping up beside him into the shower “I would’ve done it sooner. Maybe I’ll pop off a few more when you start to act out again.”

That made him stop, glancing back to face you with puppy eyes.

“Really?”

You laughed again, smacking his arm “Don’t be greedy, Aaron.”

Aaron pouted, hugging you and pressing his head on the crock of your neck as he dived with you under the warm shower “For you? Never.”

[makingspiritualityreal]

Ketu is associated with the idea of purpose.

Anyone can take some form of action, anyone can be part of a social system and adhere to it, which right now manifests through a job, but took various forms throughout history. It takes a little more guts to be an actual hard worker, which, notice, isn’t about a job, as there are housewives who work hard and CEOs who have jobs through nepotism and don’t know how to really do anything worthwhile. It is indeed a bit harder to focus your mind in order to get some result, but that doesn’t mean your result will be aligned with something actually meaningful. Because in order to get practical results, that have a higher meaning, you need to first find that purpose of who you are inside yourself.

This is the reason, why Ketu exalts in Jyeshta Nakshatra, because Jyeshta takes skills of a man and provokes a desire to direct them towards a concrete, meaningful result.

In order to study, how this works, let’s observe Richard Gere, a Jyeshta Moon, and a couple of his roles.

In “The Perfect Knight” he is a skilled warrior, that has a technique for disarming any opponent, but wanders around aimlessly. He has no allegiance to an army or a King, everyone comments on his loneliness, and when he takes an oath of loyalty to a ruler, he ends up breaking it by seducing the Queen. He only finds himself, when he discovers purpose through really embracing Knighthood and realising his fighting skills can save people’s lives, and he dedicates himself to protecting Camelot, as he views it as something to believe in. As a result, he finds aim for his martial aptitude and is no longer floating in the void.

In “Pretty Woman”, he is a rich businessman, but he makes his millions by squeezing lesser companies for money and taking advantage of others and it doesn’t really bring him happiness. He only turns around, when his love interest comments on how all his hard work doesn’t really build anything concrete, and he meets a superior, who inspires him, because he protects his company with his last breath, as an example of a beautiful creation he believes in. He ends up changing his business practices and investing in the constructive company in trouble, using his money to do good for the first time in his life, and with that finally feeling fulfilled.

In “Runaway Bride”, he is a frustrated journalist, who writes gossip columns for the entertainment of the masses, not even bothering to check on his work integrity, since his cheap tricks sell well. His life turns around, when he trips up and makes a serious journalistic faux pas by not checking his facts and endangering his employer with a potential lawsuit. He rightfully gets fired, and although he is first only interested in rehabilitating his status, as a result of his journey he questions the integrity of his writing so far, meets his love interest on the way, and gets inspired to become a serious writer.

Knowing all that, knowing how important purpose is and how Ketu directly translates to it, and why Jyeshta is the best Nakshatra of direction towards purpose, why is it such a bad place for the Moon?

We look for answer to this in what the Moon represents. The Moon is our basic state of mind, the background music that we have playing while we go through life. It is our attachment to our avatar and how we feel about it. In some Vedic theory, the Moon exalts in Krittika, and that being the first Nakshatra would give a person a motivated mind state, that gets up every day to start fresh and be alive, and then goes to sleep knowing it’s going to wake up energetic the next day all over again. But since Jyeshta represents our purpose and drive through Ketu, placing the basic mindset there makes one obsessive and extremely restless, as the mind never really shuts down.

In fact, looking back at Richard Gere, you can see it in his roles, how his characters always talk about sleeping very little or not at all. He works, he pretends to work, he thinks about work, he runs around restlessly with his sword, but his mind is never still. I also have a Jyeshta Moon parent, that has always given me quotes like “I’ll sleep when I’m dead” or “I don’t want to sleep through life”. With another Jyeshta planet, it may actually motivate the native towards taking action on their purpose, but with the Moon it makes for a restless mind and a lot of non-productive empty efforts.

The truth is, our purpose, just like Ketu itself, is karmic and thus can’t be controlled and manifests itself to us gradually, at the right time. It takes patience, persistence, dedication and trial and error to really find yourself instead of going along with what’s easily available and following the crowd. But following your purpose, truly, is the only path to greatness in human life.

What keeps you up at night? What makes you feel restless but inspired, to the point you even forget about your physical needs, because you’re excited to dive into it? For me, that has always been and still is research, sharing meaningful conclusions from my observations of the world, which led me to astrology. But there are no two astrologers who do things the same way, and the way I do it comes directly from my purpose.

[chara-cat5]

lads isekai au ch 9

reader is gender neutral, warning: swearing, mdni

masterlist

first 1

previous 8

next 10 (not out yet)

you had been avoiding it for a whole week. "it" of course being a certain dragon and his kitten. every mission jenna brought up? you volunteered. mia wants to walk home together? sorry, i have training with xavier! you came home late and left early all in the name of avoiding her.

how? how are you gonna have this conversation? to explain why you know so much? how you know sylus? and the twins? hell, everything about all of them??

you let out a huff as you shifted in your seat, feeling mia's eyes on you from her own desk. it wasn't fair to her really. she didn't do anything wrong. if anything, she probably felt betrayed by your silence... but you had just started this life here. just settled into to a rhythm with the world around you. and then sylus had to fuck all of it up!

a folded note fell on your desk and looking up, you spotted mia walking away, a frown on her face. you were hesitant, but you unfolded the note, chewing your lip as you read it.

'i get that you want space right now, but i miss you... we don't have to talk about it. i can wait till you're ready. just come home after work? please?'

fuck... how do you say no to that? you felt like a shitty lover who was always out cheating or some crap. bouncing your leg, you glanced up, meeting her gaze as she stared at you. she perked up like a freshly watered flower when you nodded slightly, a half smile tugging up her lips.

oh boy.

mia did as she promised, ignoring the elephant in the room and instead filling the silence with what she's been doing. it was nice hearing her chatter after avoiding it for a whole week. she talked about her missions, a doctor's visit, a chat she had with rafayel, normal things. once you got home, the two of you got caught up on your show, two episodes having come out since your last watch party. at some point you fell sleep, head dipping into the couch cushion, despite your fight to stay conscious.

---------------------------------

"... be quieter! you'll wake them up!"

you caught yourself before your eyes could flick open, mia's hissed whisper yell drawing you from the drowsy embrace of sleep.

"it's fiiiiinnnee. you know they sleep like a rock."

"not lately..."

you felt a wave of guilt, well aware that you've been stressing mia out all this time. if it wouldn't ruin everything, you really would come clean. trying to so as casual as possible, you stretched your limbs, eyes still screwed shut as you shifted from your place on the couch.

"oh shit-"

"see! you dumbass!"

you opened your eyes, feeling your blood run cold at the sight. another wench in your plan.

caleb.

mia didn't seem to catch it, padding over in a rush, blocking him from sight with her body.

"sorry for waking you up, i tried to tell a certain someone to stay quiet, but you know he never listens."

she shot a glare over her shoulder, caleb giving a playful shrug. his sunset gaze met yours, a smile tugging up his lips, his gaze almost soft.

"hey poppy, sorry 'bout waking you up."

you sucked in a breath, eyes wide and owlish. right, shit- you have history with him.

"o-oh it's fine, how are you doing, caleb?"

the two seemed a little surprised by your reaction, caleb slowly putting down his bag on the counter.

"how am i doing? thats your greetin'?"

mia bit her lip, leaving you to go back to the kitchen.

"they just woke up, give them time to process."

you blinked, eyebrows furrowing. what did that even mean. caleb pouted, shooting mia a look.

"first time they see me since i 'died' and they don't even care."

oh.

"don't you dare say it like that, caleb xia!"

"what? it's true!"

before they could full on squabble, you bit the bullet and jumped up and hugged caleb. he let out a soft oof as your arms squeezed around his waist, a smell of applewood and warm cotton wrapping around you. it really wasn't so bad. in fact, it felt really nice, especially when his arms came down to wrap around you too. you had been forcing yourself to be distant to these men you romanced in the video game, but there was a real comfort in letting yourself bask in your feelings. in just receiving attention from someone you gave so much attention to. your shoulders slumped as you squeezed him tighter. god, you hadn't let yourself really relax all week and it really had built up. you basked a little too hard in your feeling though, walls tumbling down as tears pricked your eyes.

"oh- hey, hey, it's okay."

you felt his voice rumble up from his chest, his hand rubbing over your back. you pressed yourself closer, hiding your face and feeling ridiculous for crying.

"look what you did! i told you not to say it like that!"

you heard mia's scolding and pulled away, wiping at your eyes.

"s-sorry..."

"don't apologize."

mia and caleb spoke over each other, both full of gentle scolding. mia came up behind you, her arms wrapping around your waist and chin resting on your shoulder.

"it's okay, poppy. you should've seen mia when she saw me."

mia let out a huff and you just knew she was glaring at him.

"they don't need to hear abou that. i think, what they need is an apology."

he sighed, slumping against the two of you. you let out a squeak, squashed between their two bodies.

" 'm sorry, poppy flower. i have my reasons, but i didn't mean to hurt you."

"i-i forgive you. now can you let go? i'm being crushed here."

he let out a chuckle, instead lifting you up entirely. you let out a scream while mia let out a sound of protest, her hand catching your arm.

"hey!"

"sorry, pips. they're mine now."

"no! give them back!"

what is going on???

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entity [user] e̵n̸- encounter entity [caleb]

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affinity level [2̸̧̦̬̺͇̮̟̎͜0̸̙̼́͆̋͂̋̂̒̐̈́]

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taglist: @sleepisfortheweakpooh @plzdonutpercieveme @young-adult-summer @mentaltrouble2201 @noxus123 @asakiyu @leftpoetrymoon @hon3yydew @anemobabygirl @clandestienly @crimsonrubie @beaconsxd @yuurisfavblog @cutiesgaloree @udejoenrlddo

heya!!

i made a q & a post (didn't taglist cause i didn't want it to go like, "oh new chapter 😁... this isn't a chapter😔)

but heres a link

hopefully it makes a few things clear and i'm happy to answer anything else that isn't coming across!!

i by no means see myself as a skilled writer, so it makes sense holes are already popping.

[edit] misclicked mature content apparently??! idk

thank you for reading!!

-chara <3

[0and0its0doctor0]

C O F F E E

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female!Reader Summary: Spencer Reid is starting to crack under the pressure of his work. Constantly stuck in fight or flight headed straight for burnout. A chance encounter at a coffee shop leads him to a messy artist who slows him down. Shows him it’s okay to sip your coffee and watch the pigeons. He has to decide if he wants to let the color into his grey world. Warnings: Awkward fluff. Little angst. Overuse of pigeon facts. W/C: 5.8k

Author Notes: hi! I have a few blurbs of them going on more dates written for this. All the way up to an engagement! Let me know if I should keep going or hold it here. Thanks!

Spencer hated to admit it but he was getting buried under his workload lately and he was headed straight for burnout. 

One morning when he was getting his coffee his hands were trembling from lack of sleep so bad that the liquid sloshed over the side of his cup and spilled onto his hand. 

“Dammit.” He instantly stepped away from the coffee cup. Letting out a heavy sigh as he checked his watch. He was going to be late if he didn’t hurry up. “Can I help?” A voice came from next to him. He turned to see you standing there, hair pulled into a messy bun, your clothes had faint marks of charcoal smeared in a couple places. A smudge on your inner right wrist. 

“With what?” He asked, losing his bearings for a second. “Your hand.” You said pointing to the growing red spot. “Oh it’s fine, coffee really only burns the skin severely at temperatures above 130 degrees. I doubt this is that hot, just some minor discomfort I mean it could be at least a small burn…” He paused when he realized he was rambling. “Sorry. I uh I have to go. Thanks for the offer though.” And with that he turned and left in a bit of a rush. 

The door closed behind him with a soft jingle of the bell, but you didn’t move right away. You just watched the spot where he’d disappeared, brows furrowed and lips pursed like you were debating something within yourself.

Spencer didn’t stop moving until he was a block away, halfway to his car, heart still racing. Not from the burn, but from the way you’d looked at him. Like you saw through him. He rubbed his palm against his coat as if trying to erase the sting, both physical and something else he couldn’t name.

The next morning, he skipped the coffee shop.

And the one after that.

By the third day, he gave in. Habit, routine—whatever it was—pulled him back in. The coffee shop was warm, familiar, too woven into his daily rhythm to avoid forever.

He kept his eyes low as he approached the counter, slightly embarrassed by his abrupt exit days prior. But as he stepped up to order, there you were again except this time behind the counter. Your hair was still a mess, colored strands falling out of the bun like wild threads. The smudge was gone from your wrist, but a new one bloomed faintly on your collarbone, likely graphite or charcoal.

“You didn’t come in for two days,” you said simply, not accusing, not curious just… noting it. Spencer blinked. “I…uh. Got caught up.” You nodded like you understood more than he’d said. “Let me see your hand.” He instinctively started to protest, but you just held out yours, palm open, waiting.

After a pause, he offered his. It felt oddly intimate. Your fingers were stained but soft, and your touch was light, gentle in a way he hadn’t felt in a long time. “Doesn’t look too bad,” you murmured. “But maybe take it as a sign to slow down. You look like you haven’t slept in a week.”

“I haven’t,” he admitted before he could stop himself. Then a flicker of vulnerability flashed across his face. “Sorry, I don’t usually…talk to strangers like this.”

“Maybe that’s the problem,” you said, handing his hand back with a faint smile. “I’m not a stranger now.” You gave him your name, that smile growing just a little. Even though it felt foreign on your cheeks. “Spencer,” he said automatically. “Dr. Spencer Reid.”

You smiled at the “doctor,” but didn’t tease. “Well, Dr. Reid. Maybe today you don’t burn yourself. And maybe tomorrow, you try sleeping.” He huffed a quiet laugh, surprising himself. As you turned to make his order, he didn’t rush off this time. He just stood there, watching the smudges on your skin and thinking maybe he could make time for coffee again tomorrow.

When he did come in the following day for his coffee he was a little disappointed to find you not standing behind the counter. But when he turned towards the area with the couches he noticed you focused on a sketch in your lap. As the pencil glided across the paper, your legs folded underneath you, he felt a smile cross his lips but quickly replaced it. He approached the couch hesitantly. 

“Do you actually work here?” He asked inquisitively. You grinned and shook your head. “I help when they need it. But no. I don’t actually work here.”

Spencer shifted his weight from one foot to the other, standing just beside the couch like he wasn’t sure if he was intruding. “Right,” he nodded slowly, eyes flicking from your face to the sketchpad in your lap. “So… you just camp out in coffee shops drawing strangers and diagnosing burnout?”

You smirked, not looking up from your sketch. “Only the really twitchy ones who talk about skin damage thresholds while spilling coffee on themselves.” A quiet huff of a laugh escaped him despite himself. “That tracks.” You glanced up at him now, tilting your head, pencil paused. “You look slightly less like you’re about to collapse today. Slightly.”

“That’s because I went to sleep before midnight for the first time in… too long.” You nodded with an approving hum. “And the hand?” He held it up, palm-out like he was presenting evidence. “Healed. Mostly.”

“Good,” you said softly, and for a moment the sarcasm in your tone faded, replaced by something gentler. You tucked a stray strand of hair behind your ear and finally set the pencil down, the edge of the sketchpad tipping just enough for Spencer to catch a glimpse of the page. His brow furrowed slightly as he leaned in. “Is that…?”

“Yup.” You didn’t even let him finish. “It’s you.” The drawing was unmistakable…him, hunched forward at the coffee counter, head down, one hand stretched out like he was mid-reach. Even in the loose, expressive lines, the tension in his body was painfully accurate.

Spencer blinked. “You drew that from memory?”

“I have a good one,” you said lightly, mimicking the understatement he so often gave when referencing his own intellect. Then you looked at him, really looked. “You’re interesting, Spencer. Most people are just… going through the motions. But you’re like a violin string wound too tight. One more wrong turn and you’ll snap.”

He stared at you for a moment, unsure what to say to that. No one ever said things like that to him. Not people who barely knew him. Not people who saw him. After a pause, he asked, “Do you always talk like that?” You shrugged, leaning back into the couch cushions. “Only to the ones who stop running long enough to listen.”

He sat down in the chair across from you without thinking, coffee still untouched in his hand. And for once, he didn’t feel the ticking of the clock or the pressure of the next crisis. Just the sound of pencil on paper, and you…half-wild, quietly bold, and utterly unapologetic, drawing the world like it was something worth noticing.

Spencer watched you and tried his hardest not to profile you. Just to observe like a normal human. So he observed. The way your fingers twitched slightly sometimes along with a small twitch in your right leg. Slight scarring along your collar bone that he noticed as your wide neck shirt slipped off one shoulder. He quickly pulled his eyes away as they started to travel lower. 

He found himself feeling…comfortable sitting in the careful hum of the coffee shop with you. But then his phone buzzed incessantly in his pocket. Checking his watch he cursed quietly. “I am so late for work I’m sorry I have to go.” You didn’t flinch at his sudden shift in energy, just watched him with a curious kind of softness as he stood, fumbling with his phone and trying to gather himself.

“You apologize a lot,” you said lightly, brushing a wisp of hair from your face. He paused, blinking at you, caught off-guard. “I…I do?” You nodded once, still seated comfortably, sketchpad now resting against your thigh. “Like you’re afraid taking up space is some kind of crime.” Spencer opened his mouth to reply but didn’t know what to say. No one had ever put it quite like that. He gave a breath of a smile, almost sheepish. “That… might be accurate.”

You tilted your head, studying him again. “Well, try not to apologize for leaving. You’ve got stuff to do. But…” You pulled a small charcoal-smudged scrap of paper from the edge of your sketchpad, scribbled something down, and handed it to him.

Spencer looked down. A phone number, messy handwriting. And beneath it, just two words:

Slow down.

He held it a moment longer than he should have. Something about it felt heavier than paper. Like an invitation. Like a lifeline. He looked back up at you, surprised by the sudden flutter in his chest. “Thank you.” You gave him a slow, knowing smile. “Go save the world, Doctor Reid.” And with that, he turned and left, your voice lingering somewhere between his ears and his ribs, like a song he didn’t want to forget.

When he arrived at the BAU he couldn’t help the fact his cheeks were a bit red when he stepped off the elevator re-reading the scrap of paper in his hand like it held the secrets to the universe. 

“You’re late.” Aaron said, looking at him with his stoic stare but slightly worried. “Is everything okay?” He asked. Last time he had been late to work repeatedly and was acting off was when he was hiding his dilaudid use. 

“Oh uhm yeah I just. Got stuck at the coffee shop.” Spencer said with a smile that seemed out of place on the doctor's face. 

Spencer got busy again. 

He was nervous sitting on the jet before it took off, his finger hovered over the send button on his cell phone. A text created. 

‘Hi this is Doctor Spencer Reid from the coffee shop.’ Was that too formal? He didn’t know what to say. A sigh and he hit send. What was the worst that could happen?

The moment he hit send, Spencer felt that familiar, fluttering rush of panic like he’d just jumped off something high and wasn’t sure if there was a net below.

He stared at the screen for a second, half-expecting it to burst into flames in his hand. Then he forced himself to set the phone down and refocus. They had a case. People’s lives were at stake. This wasn’t the time to be thinking about charcoal smudges and sharp-eyed girls who saw too much.

And yet… his thoughts kept drifting.

By the time they landed, his phone still hadn’t buzzed. He told himself it was fine. Maybe you were busy. Maybe you regretted giving it to him in the first place.

Or maybe I’m just overthinking again, he thought.

Still, when the team finally got to the hotel that night, Spencer found himself checking his phone before he even unlocked the door. Nothing. He let out a quiet sigh and tossed the phone onto the bed, running a hand through his hair.

But then—

Buzz.

He spun back toward the bed so fast he nearly tripped over his own feet.

One message.

“Hi, Doctor Spencer Reid from the coffee shop. I was wondering if you’d ever text. Thought maybe you were allergic to casual communication.”

He stared at the message, a stunned laugh escaping his lips. He dropped onto the edge of the bed, fingers flying over the screen.

“It’s possible. I also might be allergic to not overthinking literally everything.”

The typing dots appeared almost instantly.

“Good. I’m allergic to boring people.”

And just like that, a smile broke across his face, unfiltered, genuine, rare. He leaned back against the pillows, something in his chest loosening just a little. Maybe this wasn’t such a bad risk after all.

Spencer wasn’t proud of it, how his phone had become a lifeline in the middle of a nightmare.

The case was awful. They always were, but this one was a particular kind of cruel: children, families, a pattern rooted in trauma so thick it clung to everything like smoke. The air in the conference room felt heavy. The team was quiet, tired, all their edges dulled by the weight of it.

Except Spencer. He kept checking his phone. He told himself it was for updates from Garcia. For case data. For relevant leads. But he knew better. It was you.

Your messages were small moments of color bleeding through the grayscale world he was in. The way you joked, the odd but charming sketches you’d text him. One of a pigeon wearing a lab coat, another of a crooked coffee cup with wild flowers growing out of it. Your words didn’t demand anything from him. They weren’t loaded with fear or expectation. They just… were.

“How’s the violin string today?” You’d asked one night, and he nearly laughed out loud in the hotel hallway.

But even as you brought lightness, a conflict started churning inside him. You didn’t know what he did. Not really. You knew he worked “long hours” and that it involved “a lot of travel and stress.” But he hadn’t given you the truth, not the full weight of it.

He told himself it was because he wanted to protect you. That he wanted to protect himself. That if you knew… you’d see the same look in his eyes he saw in mirrors during cases like this. And maybe, just maybe, he didn’t want you to see him like that yet.

But the cracks were starting to show. Morgan caught him zoning out during the briefing, twice. Emily gave him a side glance when he didn’t notice the unsub’s timeline didn’t match the victimology. And Hotch? Hotch said nothing. But his silence was the loudest.

Later, back at the local precinct, Spencer leaned against the wall in the hallway, phone in hand. He knew he shouldn’t. He knew he should be pouring over files, cross-referencing data. Instead, he was staring at the last message you had sent:

“You ever feel like you’re running on borrowed time? Like the days are made of glass and someone’s breathing too hard near the edges?”

He read it three times before typing.

“Yes. All the time.”

He didn’t send it. He deleted it, shoved his phone deep into his pocket, and walked back into the conference room. He’d made a promise to himself to keep the lines clean. But you were already bleeding into places you shouldn’t.

And Spencer wasn’t sure if he wanted to stop you.

Back in the conference room, the air was saturated with tension. A new victim had just been found. Another child. The kind of detail that used to make Spencer feel physically ill. Lately, though, it just made him… tired.

He blinked hard, forcing himself to refocus on the board. Timelines. Geography. Psychological patterns. He could do this in his sleep, and maybe that was the problem, he was doing everything in a haze now. Half in the room, half with you.

That little slip of paper was still tucked into his wallet like a secret. The idea of you sitting in that coffee shop, sketching something that made you smile, felt impossibly far away from the blood on the concrete and the tear-stained interviews he’d just sat through.

But your words were still echoing inside him: the days are made of glass…

“Reid?” Emily’s voice cut in, sharp and low. He looked up. The team was staring. His hands had been still too long, eyes glazed. “Sorry,” he muttered. “Just…fatigued.” Hotch gave him a look that meant later, but nodded for him to continue. So Spencer pushed through. Made it through the rest of the day. Made it through the arrest. The tears of the parents. The end that never felt like an ending.

When they finally boarded the jet that night, he sat by the window. The stars outside blurred like streaks of cold light. It was quiet. Everyone was half-asleep, emotionally wrung out. He pulled out his phone. Opened a new message.

“It’s been a long day. Longer than most. Thank you for texting me. I don’t know if you realize it, but it helps.”

He stared at the blinking cursor. His thumb hovered, then added:

“You help.”

And he sent it.

For a few moments, nothing came.

Then:

“I don’t know what kind of storm you’re in, Spencer, but I’m not afraid of rain. You can talk to me. Even if it’s messy.”

His eyes closed slowly, your words washing over him like warmth against the cold landscape of his job. And for the first time in what felt like months, he let his body relax into the seat. Not completely. Not safe. But a little less alone.

Aaron waited until everyone had cleared out of the jet.

It was nearly 3 AM by the time they landed, the kind of quiet that only settles over exhausted people who’ve seen too much. Spencer was slowly gathering his things, mind clearly elsewhere. He didn’t notice Aaron watching him until he looked up and found his boss standing near the door, arms folded.

Spencer froze, bag half-zipped. “Is something wrong?”

Aaron didn’t answer right away. His eyes searched Spencer’s face. Red-rimmed eyes, shoulders tight, the tired tension of someone stretched thin. “You’ve been distracted,” Aaron said evenly. “Zoning out. Missing details. That’s not like you.”

Spencer straightened defensively, mouth tightening. “I’m fine.”

“You’re not,” Aaron replied, calm but firm. “And I’m not accusing you of anything. I’m just trying to figure out what’s going on.” Spencer shoved his tablet into his bag a little harder than necessary. “I’m not using again, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“I never said you were,” Aaron said, watching him carefully. “But you thought it.” Spencer’s voice cracked, edged with something unspoken…hurt, maybe. Frustration. “You saw me checking my phone and got worried. I get it. History repeats, right?” Aaron was quiet for a moment. Then, with a gentler tone, “I thought maybe you were overwhelmed. You’ve had more on your plate than usual.”

Spencer exhaled slowly, running a hand through his hair. “I’m just… I’m trying to let myself have something good. Something outside of this place. Someone. And I don’t want to have to explain it or justify it like it’s a weakness.”

There was a long silence.

Aaron stepped closer, his voice quieter now. “No one’s saying it’s a weakness. God knows you deserve something good, Spencer. But you don’t get to push people away when they notice you’re struggling. You’ve been off. And if this… person is distracting you so much that it’s affecting your judgment, you need to figure that out.”

Spencer looked like he wanted to argue, but the fight softened out of him. “She doesn’t even know what I do. I didn’t want to mix it. I didn’t want her to look at me like everyone else eventually does…like I’m broken, or dangerous, or…” His voice caught.

Aaron studied him for a long moment. “Then you need to decide what you want from her. Because if she’s important to you, she deserves to know the truth. And if she’s not… then you need to stop pretending she’s a lifeline.”

Spencer flinched at that. It hit too close. Aaron reached for his go-bag, shouldering it. “We’re all trying to find pieces of light wherever we can, Spencer. Just make sure you’re not using it to avoid the dark.” He turned to walk away, then paused. “For what it’s worth,” he said without looking back, “I hope it’s real.” And then he was gone, leaving Spencer alone on the jet, the hum of silence settling in like a familiar weight.

The phone in his pocket buzzed.

“I don’t know what you’re doing right now. But I hope you’re okay. I sketched a fox drinking coffee for you. He’s wearing glasses. Obviously.”

Spencer stared at the screen for a long time, then sat down, letting himself smile…just a little.

Maybe it was real.

And maybe, just maybe, he needed to stop hiding.

A few days later you sat at the window in the coffee shop. It had become your window and your couch. You didn’t look away from the window. The pigeons fluttered and bobbed along the sidewalk, pecking at invisible crumbs, occasionally startling at a passerby. Your pencil tapped in rhythm with your humming, something soft and vaguely familiar, maybe a lullaby, or maybe just something you made up.

Spencer sat with his legs crossed in the armchair, one arm draped across the armrest, the other wrapped loosely around a lukewarm coffee cup. He hadn’t slept. His shirt was wrinkled, his eyes sunken in that particular way they got when his mind had been running all night.

“There are over 350 breeds of domestic pigeon,” he offered quietly, his voice softer than usual, stretched thin around the edges. “They’re actually incredibly intelligent. Can recognize themselves in mirrors. Have excellent memories. And, uh, they were used during World War I and II as messengers, carrying vital information across enemy lines. Some even received medals…”

His voice trailed off, not because he ran out of facts, Spencer never ran out of facts, but because you had turned to look at him now, your head tilted gently to the side. “You okay, bird boy?” You asked, voice just as soft, but without the teasing you usually laced into your words. He hesitated. Swallowed. “I didn’t sleep.”

“I guessed.”

“I couldn’t stop thinking.” Your pencil stilled. “About what?”

He didn’t answer right away. His eyes flicked down to the cup in his hands, thumb tracing the edge of the lid. Finally, he said, “I don’t usually tell people what I do. Not really. I give them a version of it…something that makes sense in small talk. Easier that way. Safer.” You leaned back slightly, arms folded across your sketchbook. You didn’t push, just waited.

Spencer took a slow breath. “I work for the FBI. I’m part of a behavioral analysis unit. We build profiles to find people, usually the kind who’ve… done terrible things. Serial offenders. Killers. The worst kind of people.”

Your expression didn’t change.

Spencer continued. “It’s hard. Sometimes I think I can handle it, and other times… I don’t know. It feels like I’m absorbing it all. Like it sticks to me. I didn’t want to tell you because I didn’t want you to look at me differently. Or to see all the broken things I carry around and decide I’m not… worth knowing.”

There was a long silence. Spencer stared down into his coffee like it might offer absolution. But your voice came softly, steady.

“Okay,” you said. His head snapped up. “Okay?” he echoed. 

You nodded once. “Okay.”

“You’re not… shocked? Worried?”

“I mean, the pigeon facts were a dead giveaway you were a weirdo,” you said, a ghost of a smile tugging at your lips. “The FBI part? That’s just… more complicated layers. You’re still you.” He blinked, the weight behind his eyes threatening to break loose.

You reached forward and lightly nudged his foot with yours under the table. “Spencer, I don’t care what you do for work. I care how you look at the world. I care that you listen when I talk. That you ramble about birds and still somehow listen better than anyone I know. That you looked me in the eyes and didn’t flinch at the mess I carry around.”

He swallowed hard.

“I’m not scared of the dark,” you added, voice low now. “Not yours, not mine. So stop trying to shield me from it like it’s something I haven’t already danced through.” Spencer didn’t say anything. He couldn’t. His throat was too tight. You picked your pencil back up and began sketching again, eyes returning to the pigeons outside.

“Also,” you added casually, “I’ve decided the next sketch is you in a trench coat chasing a pigeon that stole government secrets. You’ll be holding a coffee and yelling something about federal jurisdiction.”

Spencer laughed, and this time, it was real. The tension bled from his body little by little as he leaned back into the chair, letting the moment hold him. He was still tired. Still scarred. But maybe he wasn’t hiding anymore. Not from you.

It had become ritual, sacred in its simplicity.

The soft chime of the coffee shop door. The earthy scent of roasted beans and old books. You, always on the couch or tucked into a corner booth, sketchbook in your lap and hair never quite the same twice. Spencer came almost every day now, sometimes with case files in his satchel, sometimes just with tired eyes and a need for something quiet.

Sometimes you guys talked for hours. Other times you didn’t say much at all, just shared the same space, drinking in the calm like it was something vital. It scared him how much he looked forward to it. It scared him more how much it hurt when he had to leave for work, even more for long cases.

He hadn’t said anything about how he felt. Not directly. Not really. But it lived in the small things: the way he always brought you a second muffin without asking, the way your sketches had started to include a gangly man with wild curls and a distinct coffee addiction. The way your knees would sometimes bump under the table and neither of you moved away.

But today was different.

Spencer stood just inside the doorway, fingers curled into the strap of his messenger bag. You hadn’t noticed him yet… you were hunched over a page, tongue peeking out slightly between your lips as you tried to focus. You were wearing that oversized flannel shirt again, sleeves rolled up, charcoal smudged on your cheekbone like war paint.

He took a breath. Then he walked over.

You glanced up when he approached, eyes lighting up the way they always did when you saw him. “Hey, Bird Boy.”

“Hi,” he said, voice catching a little. “Uh. Hi.” You blinked. “Are you okay? You look like you just got off a roller coaster and realized you left your wallet in the seat.”

“I’m fine,” he said quickly. “Just, um—thinking.” An eyebrow arched, amused. “Dangerous.” He laughed, nervous. Fidgeted with the strap. Then blurted out, “Wouldyouliketogooutwithme?”

You paused, both eyebrows arched now. “What?”

Spencer felt his cheeks flush. “Would you like to go out?” You blinked once. “Go out?”

“On a date,” he clarified, voice just above a whisper. “With me. Like, a real one. Somewhere that isn’t here. Or the sidewalk outside of here.” There was a beat of stunned silence. Then your mouth curled into a slow, warm smile. You leaned forward, arms resting over your faithful sketchbook. “Well,” you said, pretending to ponder. “Do I get to pick the restaurant?”

“Yes,” he said immediately.

“And will there be at least one awkward silence?”

“Guaranteed.”

“And if I get nervous, will you give me some weird pigeon trivia to distract me?”

He smiled, a little more himself now. “Did you know pigeons can detect cancer cells with about 85% accuracy?” Your laugh bubbled up before you could stop it. You reached out and placed a hand over his, steady and sure.

“Then yes,” you said softly. “I’d love to go out with you, Doctor Spencer Reid.”

He felt something loosen in his chest…something that had been locked away for a long time. “Okay,” he said, almost breathless. “Okay,” you echoed, squeezing his hand once before letting go. And as you went back to your sketch, and he sat down beside you, closer this time, Spencer realized something that maybe life didn’t always need to be compartmentalized.Maybe, just maybe, some good things were worth letting in.

That Friday Spencer stood outside a quiet little restaurant with its brick walls, ivy curling up the side, soft golden lights strung across the awning. It was cozy, intimate, tucked just far enough off the main street that it felt like a secret. He’d chosen it because it wasn’t overwhelming. Because it reminded him of you in a way…kind of quiet but full of character.

He checked his watch nervously again, even though he knew he was early.

And then the taxi pulled up.

He wasn’t sure what he’d expected. Maybe jeans. A band tee. Boots and a flannel tied around your waist. Something you. But when you stepped out of the cab, time seemed to stutter.

The black dress fluttered slightly around your knees with the breeze, simple but elegant in a way that punched all the air from his lungs. The halter tie left your shoulders bare, a curve of collarbone visible in the amber streetlight. Your skin looked soft in a way that had nothing to do with appearance, just something vulnerable and real.

The boots still grounded you. Not heels, you would never. But those slightly scuffed black boots said don’t forget who I am, even as the rest of you shimmered in a way he’d never seen.

Your hair, usually an unruly wildfire, had been tamed into a messy but intentional updo, the kind that said you’d tried, really tried. A few strands framed your face, curled just so. And for once, there were no charcoal smudges on your wrists or your cheek. Nothing to hide behind.

Spencer didn’t realize he was staring until you stopped in front of him, a nervous smile playing at your red lips. “Well?” You asked, suddenly self-conscious. “Too much?” He opened his mouth and absolutely nothing came out. His brain refused to process language. Words were foreign.

You tilted your head, teasing. “You forget how to speak, Doctor Reid?” He swallowed, hard. “You’re…” He paused, cleared his throat, started again, softer. “You’re stunning.”

The smile that shifted from nervous to something softer on your face was something that Spencer wished he could have taken a picture of to keep forever. It was real. “Thanks. You clean up pretty well yourself.” You said taking in his appearance. 

Spencer glanced down at himself. Button-up shirt, dark slacks, jacket slightly too big on his frame, curls as tamed as they ever got. He shrugged, smiling crookedly. “I tried.” You stepped in a little closer, tugged gently at a stray thread on his sleeve. “So did I.” The moment held between the two of you.

Then Spencer, awkward, brave, offered you his arm. “Shall we?” he asked. You looped your hand through his elbow, your fingers light against his jacket. “Lead the way, Professor Pigeon.” He laughed, heart fluttering like the very birds you always teased him about.

And as the two of you stepped inside the small restaurant, the door closing behind you, he realized something simple and terrifying and beautiful. He hadn’t just survived all the darkness. He had made it far enough to feel the light again.

The hostess greeted you with a polite smile, leading the two of you through the restaurant to a small table by the window. The lighting was soft, golden, and your eyes, usually half-hidden behind wind-tangled curls, caught the glow and turned warm amber.

Spencer pulled your chair out for you before awkwardly sliding into his own across the table. You watched him with a half-grin that said you’re adorable, and you have no idea how much. His fingers fidgeted briefly with the edge of the cloth napkin before he folded his hands in his lap and looked up at you.

“So,” you said, resting your chin in your hand, “what exactly does a date with Doctor Spencer Reid look like?” He blinked. “Um. Mostly me overthinking everything and wondering if I should have brought flowers. Or if I’m talking too much. Or if the restaurant I picked is too casual. Or if you’re…”

You reached out and placed your hand gently over his. “It’s perfect.” He blinked again, quiet for a second. “Okay.”

The waiter arrived with menus, and after some brief back-and-forth about entrees (you teased him when he ordered his pasta in exact, clinical terms), you guys settled in. Conversation flowed easier than he thought it would.

He told you about a case from years ago…one that had a bittersweet ending but wasn’t graphic, wasn’t too heavy. You listened, eyes fixed on him, only interrupting once to ask, “Does it ever stop feeling like it’s too much?”

“No,” he answered honestly, “but some days… it feels worth it.”

You nodded and, in turn, told him about an art class you once took in a tiny attic studio where the instructor played old jazz records and made everyone paint with brushes taped to the ends of yardsticks. “It was ridiculous,” you said, laughing, “but I made the best painting I’ve ever done. Complete chaos. Beautiful chaos.”

“Like you,” Spencer said without thinking. You raised an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at your lips. “Excuse me?”

“I mean…uh…not that you’re chaotic in a bad way. Just, you know. Beautiful. And… unpredictable. And real.”

You stared at him a moment, then said softly, “I’ll take it.”

By the time dessert arrived, something chocolate that was split even though Spencer insisted he wasn’t really a dessert person, you had both stopped pretending to keep any emotional distance.

You leaned forward, spoon between your fingers. “So, tell me the truth,” you said. “Was this your first real date in a while?” Spencer hesitated. “…Years.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

You didn’t make a joke. Didn’t press further. You just nodded, finishing the last bite of dessert and setting the spoon down.

When you guys stepped outside, the night air was cool. Spencer shrugged off his jacket without thinking and draped it around your shoulders. “Thanks,” you murmured, tugging it closer. “You really are a good guy, huh?”

“I try to be.”

You looked up at him then, your face half-lit by the streetlamp. Your voice was steady. “You are, Spencer.” He smiled, slow and quiet. “Would it be inappropriate to kiss you?” You grinned wide. “Only if you don’t.”

So he leaned in, tentative but sure, and when your lips met his, it wasn’t fireworks or sparks…it was something gentler. Something that felt like being seen. Like a door slowly unlocking.

When you pulled apart, you kept your hand resting lightly on his chest. “So,” you whispered, “next time you bring up pigeon trivia, you realize you’ve officially lost the right to pretend it’s not flirting.” Spencer laughed, breathless. “Deal.”

And as he watched you walk back toward the waiting cab, his jacket still draped over your shoulders, he realized with aching clarity that he didn’t just want this once.

He wanted every version of it that came after

[hearts4sturn]

CAUGHT IN A LIE — M.STURNIOLO

pairing: heartthrob!matt x fem!reader synopsis: y/n was forced to attend a fraternity party after losing a bet to her friend. she was awkward—never quite sure how to handle parties like this. when a guy (who clearly couldn’t take a hint) kept flirting with her, she found herself unable to say no. matt, thinking he was doing her a favor, stepped in and claimed they were dating. but word spread fast around the university, leaving them no choice but to keep up the lie. warnings: lowercase intended, angst, alcohol, mentions of sex

masterlist | series masterlist

ONE: HELPING HAND

i don’t even know how i ended up here. one second, i was at home, tucked into the couch with evelyn, playing a heated game of uno, the kind of game where every draw of a card feels like the weight of the universe is in your hands, and now here i am, shoved into the corner of some god-awful frat party i never wanted to attend in the first place. the air is thick with noise—people shouting, stumbling, laughing—the kind of chaos designed to make any thought feel like a luxury. one minute, i was laughing over a stupid card game, completely in my element, and the next, i’m desperately trying not to get knocked into the bathroom wall by a group of guys who can’t even stand straight, let alone respect personal space.

and the bathroom... jesus. i’m pretty sure i just heard someone violently puking, or worse, a group of people going at it like the walls aren’t even there. honestly, i’m really hoping for the former. but who knows at this point? this place is so far removed from anything resembling comfort, i’m not even sure i remember what it felt like to be at ease anymore.

evelyn vanished the moment we walked through the door. she’d made some excuse about grabbing us drinks, and just like that, she was gone—swept away by the sea of bodies that moved like waves in the night. before i could even blink, she was gone. now, i’m left here, alone in this mess, surrounded by noise, spilled beer, and the occasional burst of laughter that seems to slice through the chaos and leave me wondering if i’m supposed to laugh too. but i’m not. i’m not laughing.

a few hours ago, evelyn and i were sitting at her kitchen table, doing what we always did—playing uno, fiercely competitive but also completely ridiculous. we were so into it that we started betting on the outcome. if i won, she’d owe me ice cream the next day. if she won, i had to come to this godforsaken party. guess who lost?

i glance down at my pink-banded apple watch. 1:48 a.m. the glow of the screen is a small beacon of normalcy in the otherwise dim room, a momentary escape from the pandemonium that surrounds me.

i should be in bed by now, under my blankets, the comforting weight of my pink bunny jellycat—daisy—clutched to my chest, lost in the warmth of sleep. but no. i had to lose that stupid bet, and here i am, dragged into a house full of strangers, unable to escape. evelyn keeps telling me i need to "get out more," like one night of forced socializing can make up for the fact that i’m more of a "stay-in-and-watch-movies" kind of person.

i sigh and adjust my grip on my phone, as if it could somehow make me blend into the background. since i’m already here, might as well make the best of it, right? free drinks and all that… not that they matter. i’m not much of a drinker. the last time i had alcohol was sophomore year, when i was trying way too hard to fit in with a group of people who, in retrospect, weren’t even worth the effort.

i make my way over to the "bar area" (which, realistically, is just the kitchen) and scan the cooler for something that won’t make me immediately regret every life decision. i settle on a can of seltzer, the safe, boring choice. i know, i know—seltzer at a frat party? it’s practically a joke. but the other options are beer or straight vodka, and neither of those are even remotely appetizing. just thinking about them makes my stomach twist in protest.

i crack open the can of grapefruit seltzer and take a sip. it’s not terrible. fruity, refreshing, but with that aftertaste of something faintly bitter—something that reminds me of why i don’t drink. i can live with it, though. no rush to finish it. no rush to do anything.

i lean back against the edge of the kitchen island, trying to ground myself in the scene around me. the place is packed, like sardines in a can. people are everywhere, weaving between each other like they’re moving to the beat of the music. the bass is heavy, vibrating the very air around me, making everything feel a little too close. i watch a group of people in the middle of the room, swaying and jumping, their movements messy but carefree. they don’t seem to care about anything—who’s watching, how they look. it’s almost impressive, the way they can let go like that, as if there’s nothing to hold them back.

in the corner, there’s a small crowd gathered around a few people slumped against the wall. some are puking, the aftermath of too many shots, while others either try to comfort them or laugh way too loudly, as though this is just another funny party moment. it’s not. but you wouldn’t guess that by the way they’re acting.

a few feet away, another group is playing the usual party games—spin the bottle, truth or dare, all the clichés. it almost feels like a movie scene, like this is what people do at parties when they want to have fun. for a second, it looks like it might actually be fun. but then i remember—i’d rather not end up doing something humiliating in front of a bunch of strangers. not tonight. not ever.

and then, of course, there are the frat guys. the ones who think they’re the life of the party, yelling "oh!" and "woo!" every time they sink a ball in beer pong. it’s obnoxious, like they’re competing to see who can be the loudest, the most noticeable. i don’t even get it. it’s just a game. but whatever. they’re probably compensating for something.

i take another sip of my seltzer, just as a guy steps into my line of sight. i don’t even have to see his face to know exactly what he’s going to do. god, please, not now.

“standing here all alone? this party not fun for you?”

well, fuck.

“uh…” i look down at my shoes, hoping he’ll get the hint and move on.

i’m not great at talking to strangers. that’s always evelyn’s job. but right now, she’s nowhere to be found.

“you’re a shy one, aren’t ya?” he says, his smirk annoyingly self-satisfied. he hooks his finger under my chin and lifts my head, forcing me to look at him.

“sorry, ‘m not interested,” i mumble, swatting his finger away, hoping he’ll take the hint.

“oh, come on, sweetheart,” he whines, his teasing tone dripping with too much confidence. “just follow me, and i’ll show you a little fun,” he winks, and it’s so cringe-worthy that i almost physically recoil.

before i can even respond, a voice cuts through the air, sharp and commanding.

“yo, daniel, back off of my girl.”

my girl? what the hell is this guy talking about? since when did i become anyone’s girl? who even claims people like that?

i glance around, searching for the source of the voice.

there, behind me, stands matt. as cliché as it might sound, he and his brothers have a sort of legendary status around the university, each of them distinct in their own way. take nick, for example—he was the kind of guy everyone gravitated towards. always smiling, always talking to someone, with that easygoing personality that made him approachable. he was the guy you could go to if you needed a favor, someone to listen to your problems without judgment. he was, essentially, the human equivalent of a shoulder to lean on.

then there was chris. the classic “bad boy” type, except he wasn’t really a bad boy at all. well, not in the conventional sense. he had this charm that was magnetic, effortlessly pulling people—especially girls—into his orbit. he wasn’t looking for anything serious, of course. just casual flings, making people feel special and then vanishing when things got too real. the word “player” practically followed him around. everyone knew it, and somehow, they still fell for it. it was as if he had some kind of unwritten permission to break hearts, and he never seemed to care.

but matt? matt was a different kind of guy altogether. he wasn’t like nick, who made friends with anyone and everyone, or chris, who made a game out of relationships. matt had this quiet, magnetic energy about him. people noticed him—no doubt about that—but not in the same way. he wasn’t the loudest in the room, or the one with the most outrageous stories. instead, it was his presence that commanded attention. there was an air of mystery around him, something unspoken, but heavy. the kind of guy who could walk into a room and suddenly make everything feel a little quieter, a little more intense. people were drawn to him, but no one seemed to really know him. there were rumors, of course—whispers about past relationships, glimpses into his life that only fed into the mystery—but for the most part, he was a puzzle no one could quite solve. and now, he was here, calling out the guy in front of me like he was protecting something—me, maybe?—that he had no business protecting.

and now he’s here, standing right behind me, calling me his girl. 

what is my life.

"shit—sorry, man, i didn’t know she was yours," daniel mumbled, his voice dropping an octave as he stepped back, his eyes darting nervously between me and matt.

matt didn’t even blink, his gaze as sharp as ever. his eyes locked onto daniel’s with an intensity that made the air in the room feel thicker, heavier. "don’t do it again," he said, the words clipped but firm, enough to make the warning crystal clear. then, without another syllable, he placed a hand on my waist—light but commanding—and began guiding me away from the chaos of the kitchen, pulling me out of the mess without a second thought.

i couldn’t tell if it was the warmth of his hand or the sudden shift in the room’s energy, but i could feel the tension dissolve the moment we started moving. matt was effortlessly cutting through the sea of bodies, through the noise, through the chaos of this ridiculous party. we wound down a narrow hallway, past rooms that were loud and disorienting, until he finally pulled me into a quieter corner, away from everything.

there was a worn-out couch shoved against the wall, not the most inviting, with sagging cushions that threatened to swallow us whole. still, it was a refuge compared to the madness outside. matt settled next to me, close enough that i could feel the heat of his presence without it being too much, but not so close that it felt overbearing.

"you alright, kid?" he asked, his voice softer now, though there was still that edge beneath it. "i know daniel can be… pushy." there was something in his tone that felt different—softer, maybe a little protective, in a way i wasn’t used to hearing from him. it caught me off guard for a second, making me wonder if i had misunderstood him entirely.

i didn’t look up. i couldn’t. my eyes stayed on my hands, my fingers nervously twisting together, looking for something to anchor me, something to focus on, anything to hide the nerves that crawled up my spine. i nodded slowly, barely a movement, hoping that would be enough. i didn’t want to talk about it. didn’t want to admit that daniel’s touch had unsettled me, or that i could still feel the lingering smirk on my skin.

matt sat still, watching me for a moment, probably expecting me to say something. but i couldn’t. the words were stuck somewhere in the back of my throat, tangled up in all the things i wasn’t ready to confront.

"you sure?" he asked again, his voice gentle now, but there was a curious undertone to it. "if you want to talk about it..." his words trailed off, leaving the offer there, unspoken but still there, hanging between us like a lifeline.

i shook my head, barely enough to be noticeable. "it’s fine," i whispered, the words almost lost in the air between us. it wasn’t fine, not really, but it was easier to say that than admit the discomfort i still felt, the way my heart was racing despite how calm i tried to act. pretending i wasn’t rattled felt like the only thing i could do.

"‘kay, if you say so," matt replied quietly. his voice held no judgment, just an observation. he leaned back slightly, eyes still on me, but his expression had shifted—it wasn’t the usual indifference. no, it was something different. softer. "you don’t look comfortable here," he added, his voice almost like a quiet realization. "you should get home. did you come with anyone?"

i shifted uncomfortably on the couch, my fingers once again finding their way to my nails, picking at them absentmindedly. i didn’t know how to answer. "um, just my friend... but, uh, i’m not sure where she is," i said quietly, my gaze still avoiding his. i didn’t want him to see just how out of place i felt, like a lost ghost in the middle of this party that didn’t belong to me, surrounded by people i barely knew.

matt’s eyes followed my hands, watching them for a moment, before he made a subtle move closer. his hand rested gently on top of mine, stopping my nervous fidgeting. "hey, don’t ruin your pretty hands," he said softly, a little teasing but there was something kind in his tone, something that threw me off guard. the warmth of his touch grounded me for a moment, and for a fleeting second, it felt like we were in our own little bubble, away from everything else.

i pulled my hand back instinctively, not sure how to respond to the sudden shift, but matt didn’t seem fazed. instead, he stood, running a hand through his hair as he moved to stand up. "give me a pic of your friend, i’ll find her," he said, his tone casual as if helping me find evelyn was just another thing to check off his list.

without thinking, i grabbed my phone, opening the picture of evelyn and me from earlier in the night. our smiles had been so carefree, so full of life, so different from how i felt now. i tapped the screen, airdropping it to him without meeting his eyes, too nervous to see if he was looking back at me.

he took the phone, glancing at the screen, and flicked through it with practiced ease. "you stay here," he said, his voice calm but firm. "i’ll be back."

 just like that, he was gone, disappearing into the party like he was made for the noise and chaos. i barely noticed the minutes pass before matt returned, guiding evelyn through the crowd. she was stumbling, barely able to keep her feet under her, but somehow still grinning like an idiot.

"y/n! my babyyy!" she slurred, her hands going straight to my face, squishing my cheeks in a way that would’ve been cute if she weren’t so far gone. "look at how cute you areee!"

matt chuckled behind us, and i felt my cheeks heat up instantly. i pushed her hands away gently, trying to keep her from falling into my lap. "eve… how much did you drink?"

she blinked at me, struggling to focus, before just giggling. "hmm… dunno… maybe one, two, ten?"

i sighed, rubbing my forehead. "c’mon, eve, let’s just get you home." i draped her arm around my shoulder, bracing myself for her weight, though it felt like she might collapse in the opposite direction at any moment.

"do you need a ride?" matt asked, his voice cutting through the chaos. he was holding up his keys, a knowing glint in his eyes. "i can drive you."

i hesitated for a moment. i didn’t know matt. barely spoke to him before tonight. getting in a car with him wasn’t the smartest move, but when i looked at evelyn, barely able to stand, there didn’t seem to be another option. "yeah, if it’s not too much trouble, that’d be great," i said, trying to sound confident.

"no trouble at all," he replied casually, already turning toward the door, but then he stopped and glanced back at me. "wait, do you need help with her? i mean, she looks like she's... uh, about to pass out."

"no, it’s fine," i said quickly, adjusting evelyn’s weight again so she wouldn’t topple over. she was mumbling nonsense now, too far gone for me to make any sense of her words. but all i could think about was getting her home. "i’ve got it," i added, even though i wasn’t entirely sure if i did. but pretending i had it together was easier than admitting how much i didn’t.

matt gave me a skeptical look but nodded, walking ahead, leading the way to his car.

the walk to the car was slow. each step was calculated, careful, my focus completely on keeping evelyn upright. her arm slung over my shoulder was the only thing holding her up, but i kept steady, making sure we moved together, one step at a time. the world felt quieter now, as if the noise of the party had faded into the background, leaving just the steady rhythm of my breath and evelyn’s soft mumbling.

we reached the car, and i opened the door carefully, helping evelyn into the backseat. she slumped against the window, her head resting heavily as she drifted into unconsciousness. i slipped into the seat next to her, keeping an eye on her, making sure she was safe.

"you can drop us off at the south dorms," i said quietly, glancing at evelyn, who was already out like a light. her breathing was steady, peaceful, and for a moment, i felt myself start to relax.

matt nodded, his hands gripping the wheel. the car hummed softly as he pulled away, the world outside disappearing as we drove into the quiet of the night.

the silence between us was comfortable, not awkward like i’d expected. it felt almost natural, like we were in this little bubble together, separate from everything else. matt’s car wasn’t anything special—just a regular kia minivan—but there was something unassuming about it that put me at ease. it was the kind of car you could forget you were in, the kind that made you feel like you weren’t being watched.

"hey, we’re here," matt finally spoke, pulling into the parking lot of our dorm. the headlights illuminated the building, casting long shadows on the pavement.

"thank you so much for the ride," i said, my voice wavering a little. "um, is there anything i can do to repay you?"

"it’s alright," matt replied easily, his voice casual. "just knowing you guys got back safe is enough for me."

i nodded, feeling a little guilty. "well, still... i really appreciate it."

“no problem," he said, glancing at me one last time before turning to help evelyn out of the car. “have a safe night.”

"you too," i said quietly, watching as he pulled away, disappearing into the night.

the air felt colder as i walked into the dorm, evelyn’s weight leaning heavily on me as we moved toward the entrance. the building felt strangely empty, the buzz of the party still lingering in my mind, but the quiet of the dorm was a relief.

once inside, i helped evelyn to our room, the weight of the night finally starting to lift off my shoulders as i closed the door behind us. my heart was still racing, but the relief was palpable. i had made it through the night. and i had gotten evelyn home safe.

"eve, you’re never dragging me to another party again," i muttered, half-laughing, half-sighing.

she just smiled drunkenly, barely able to stay awake. “yeah, yeah. i get it,” she mumbled, already half asleep as i helped her to bed.

as i tucked her in, making sure she was comfortable, a wave of exhaustion hit me all at once. i moved through my evening routine in a daze, washing up, changing into something more comfortable, trying to shake the remnants of the chaos from my body. the night had been a blur of responsibility, of taking care of things i hadn’t planned on. but now, at last, there was peace.

i climbed into bed, the cool sheets offering a comfort i hadn’t realized i needed. i grabbed daisy, clutching the stuffed animal to my chest, as i let the exhaustion pull me under.

and as the quiet of the room settled around me, i let myself drift off, hoping that tomorrow would feel a little lighter than today.

the next morning, i was jolted awake by evelyn shaking me frantically, her hands tugging at my arm with an urgency that yanked me from the deep fog of sleep.

"y/n, y/n, wake up!" she kept repeating, her voice higher now, insistent, as she shook me harder. the sound of her words was the only thing that managed to cut through the thick haze of slumber.

"mm... eve, what time is it?" i groaned, my voice muffled by the pillow as i buried my face deeper into it, trying to ignore the world pressing in around me. daisy was clutched tightly in my arms, the soft, familiar feel of her fur the only thing keeping me tethered to the comfort of my bed. i wasn’t ready to face reality. not yet.

"it’s 9:24, not that it matters—what matters is, why am i getting messages from people asking if you and matt, the matthew sturniolo, are dating?" evelyn’s voice was filled with confusion, disbelief, a touch of something i couldn’t quite place. i could hear the shock in her words, and for a second, i wondered if i was still dreaming, if this was just some wild scenario my mind had cooked up.

"WHAT?" i shot up immediately, my eyes wide, my heart thundering in my chest. i stared at her, half-convinced that i’d misunderstood, but the serious look on her face made it clear this was no joke.

"yeah," she said, pulling out her phone and thrusting it into my face. "look at this." she swiped through a few messages, holding up the screen to show me a series of texts from people i vaguely recognized. i blinked, my mind struggling to process the absurdity of it all.

"is y/n and matt together?" "wait, is y/n and matt sturniolo a thing?" "i heard matt call her 'his girl,' are they a thing?"

the messages came at me in rapid succession, each one more baffling than the last. i blinked again, my heart pounding even harder, and a wave of panic washed over me. how had this happened? my mind scrambled to remember the events of the previous night, but it was a blur—nothing more than a ride home, some light conversation. how had people already started jumping to conclusions?

"i—i don’t know," i stammered, my voice shaky, my chest tight with anxiety. "we didn’t do anything—i mean, there was nothing between me and matt. nothing like that."

"are you sure?" evelyn raised an eyebrow, her gaze shifting from my face to the phone in her hand. "because from where i’m sitting, it sure looks like something's going on." her tone was curious, almost too curious, like she was trying to read between the lines.

i ran a hand through my tangled hair, the weight of the situation sinking in. it felt like everything was crashing down on me all at once. "eve, i swear, i’m not dating matt. this has to be some kind of misunderstanding. i have no idea how they got that impression."

she sighed, dramatically flopping back onto her bed with the kind of flair only she could pull off. "well, looks like someone needs to clear this up before it spirals even further. you don’t want rumors like this spreading, trust me."

i groaned, collapsing back into my bed, pulling the covers up over my head like a shield. "this is so messed up. i’m not even ready to deal with this. i just woke up, for crying out loud."

"i know, i know," evelyn said, her voice softening as she sat next to me, her presence offering a small measure of comfort. "but you’ve gotta handle this, or it’ll just keep snowballing. and you really don’t want to wake up one day with the entire school convinced you’re dating someone you’re not."

i closed my eyes, the weight of everything pressing in on me. i didn’t have the energy to argue. i just nodded, too exhausted to do much else. my mind was already racing with a thousand questions, all tangled together. how had this even started? what was i supposed to do now?

"this is a mess, eve," i muttered, my voice muffled by the blankets. "i can’t deal with this right now."

"i know, but you will," she said gently, her hand resting on my shoulder. "we’ll figure it out." her voice was calm, like she had everything under control, but i could hear the underlying tension. even she wasn’t sure how this was going to play out.

i didn’t respond. i just lay there, feeling the weight of everything closing in around me, unsure of how to untangle the mess my life had somehow become.

wc: 4.2k author's note: please bare with me i haven't written for fun in so long T^T dividers: @toastray

taglist: @courta13 @tits4matt @backwardshatnick @emely9274 @mattspillowprincess

© HEARTS4STURN 2025

[velvetcake96]

Okay, so I’ve stepped away since last night because I wanted to sleep and now this is probably the last thing I’m gonna say about the Junhan situation so it’s gonna be long.

1. What he did was wrong, he spoke from a place of ignorance about things that are factually wrong and harmful. Beliefs that he shared on a public platform is linked to harmful stereotypes and because of this “information” many people are harmed.

2. He needed to apologize, what he did was wrong, attacking Villains who were saying he needed to own up to what he did is frankly unacceptable and shows you’ll put your idols over your morals and that’s sick. It shows that your morals could be shifted and that is a huge reflection on your character.

3. Trying to remember how Junhan usually talks and behaves I believe the two personal apologies that he gave were sincere and that he will try to educate himself on the matter and not do this again. That is my hopeful thinking given the fact he acknowledged the lack of historical and social understanding from the comments he made. And remembering that he didn’t just hurt one group of people, he hurt multiple and it’s addressed to them. I am not part of any of the groups he hurt directly, so it isn’t my place to say if he’s forgiven or not.

4. I study human behavior as well as the mind, that’s what I do, and part of that is understanding the human experience and mind is flexible, people can change, even once they’re an adult. (A little harder but you see it all the time.) I want to believe he is really going to learn from this and grow as a human. I want to give him that chance, but also I can understand people not wanting to do that because his words were ignorant as hell.

5. It’s not okay to spread hate for Villains who decides to stop supporting them or don’t forgive right away, that’s okay, that’s more than okay. It’s also okay to watch at arms length and see how he goes from here. It’s okay if you are apart of that group of people and decide to forgive him and hopes he does better. However it’s not okay to harm any of these individuals no matter what. People are still humans behind screens, and it’s not right to attack anyone.

6. It’s not okay to say he should end himself, sending threats of harm, calling him @bleist as well as r@cist terms, because you are just as bad, I said what I said. Especially the people who throw N@zi around like it means nothing, like you’ve been waiting for that moment. It’s not okay.

7 Will I still post about Junhan? He is my art muse and I love drawing Tyonen and Gaebabz, but for now, because he’s a sensitive topic I won’t be. Not forever, just for a while, I will still post about Xdinary Heroes because I love the music and I love the members. I will show more love for them atm and will see how Junhan goes forward.

8. This is such a small detail so it’s not as important but people saying he’s autistic and it’s a special interest will see under my shoe because what the hell? That’s… not how it works and is frankly ridiculous and harmful to the autistic community. He hasn’t even said if he is or not, while yes I have also made a joke or two because he shares some of my own actions when it comes to that I don’t actually believe that he is.

Let’s use this situation to educate and grow. Hate doesn’t equal criticism. Criticism doesn’t equal hate. And allow people the chance to change, and if they truly believe what they did was wrong, time will reveal that and proper change will be made.

[kellykadesperate]

Number 4 or maybe mix it with number 3 if you feel like this? Robron of course.

i went with number 4!

“Yes there’s one bed. No, I won't be sleeping on the floor.”

“One weekend. Two nights.” 

Aaron pulls this face but keeps typing. “I know how a weekend works.” He says, just to be his difficult annoying self.

“I’ll make it up to you.” Robert begs. He’s really not short of doing that right now.

Aaron finally looks up at him. Robert feels a little weak against it but he can’t get into that right now. He can’t mix real feelings with the ones he’s going to be asking Aaron to fake. 

“You have no one else to ask.”

“No.” Robert is adamant. “Please, I’ve already mentioned you to Vic before so she knows –”

“You’ve mentioned me to your sister?” Aaron says and he makes it a thing. Robert squirms against it a little. Yes, Aaron’s name has come up. It’s not a big deal. They work together. Aaron’s fit. He’s also gay. He’s also someone Robert has probably been a little crazy over for a few years but again, it doesn’t matter.

“Will you come?” Robert asks.

Aaron answers with an eye roll and a nod. It might as well be an enthusiastic agreement and Robert makes sure to tell Vic he won’t be there alone, that he has a plus one. She squeals with excitement over the fact that it’s Aaron. The Aaron she actually says.

It’s going to be a long weekend.

It turns out the way as soon as they arrive. The line is, they’re colleagues but it became something more a few months ago. Robert is going with the whole relatively new thing so that they don’t trip each other up at all. 

“And we’re doing this because Vic’s worried about you?” 

It sounds genuinely sad when Aaron puts it like that but it’s true. His little sister seems to think he can’t hold anyone down considering his last real relationship ended with Chrissie kicking him to the curb. 

He mentioned Aaron in passing, once, then twice and Vic soon realised he was halfway in love with him. It was easy to pretend until she was asking him to visit over the weekend and bringing Aaron was naturally brought up.

“It’s so amazing to finally meet ya, Robert’s mad about you.” Vic squeezes Aaron who blushes bright red.

“Feelings mutual.” Aaron says and Robert swoons a little. Especially when Aaron pulls his hand over Robert’s back. 

As soon as Vic disappears into the kitchen, the hand is gone and Aaron scowls at Robert. 

“You told her you were mad about me?” Aaron questions Robert. 

Robert genuinely wants the ground to swallow him up.

“No she – I didn’t –”

“Right, your room is up here boys.” Vic sounds so happy. The room is smaller than Robert remembers. He keeps a smile on his face until she disappears and says she’ll let them settle like there’s much to do. 

Aaron stares down at the bed. 

“Aaron …”

“Yes there’s one bed. No, I won't be sleeping on the floor.” Aaron plonks his bag down on the bed and Robert feels a little lightheaded at the thought of sleeping next to Aaron.

“Uh.” Robert runs a hand through his hair. “Well. I can.” 

Aaron sniffs, has a hand on his hip and shrugs. “Do what you like.” He says. Then he scowls. “You so owe me for this.” He points out. Like he really bloody needs to.

Later, they’re sitting by a fire Vic’s made in her little garden and Aaron’s listening to Robert and Vic swap stories about their childhood. Robert can see that Aaron doesn’t look angry anymore, he’s looking between them both and genuinely smiling. He looks relaxed, beer in hand and a small smile on his face. 

The moon is high in the sky by the time Vic calls it a night and says she’ll see them both tomorrow. Before they head up, Robert watches as Vic talks quietly to Aaron, hand on his arm and everything. It makes him panic for a second, think about Aaron slipping up and saying they just happen to work together. 

By the time they both walk up to their room, there’s a little buzz between them. He’s sure it’s the beers. 

Aaron slumps down on the bed and sighs. Robert stands up by the door and then decides to sit on the little chair near the wardrobe. 

“She’s lovely.” Aaron says. 

Robert smiles, genuine and bright. “She’s the best of us.” He says.

Aaron gulps hard and looks at Robert. “You’re not so bad either.” He whispers. “At all.”

Robert dips his head a little and decides to be honest. “You don’t have to – I don’t know, indulge me or whatever. I know I practically begged you to come here but –”

“I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t want to be here.” Aaron says, like it’s obvious. Then he stands, and suddenly he’s right in front of Robert. “Vic said …”

“Oh God.” Robert stands and feels so embarrassed he wants to cry. He covers a hand over his face and hopes that Aaron legs it out the room or just disappears into thin air or something. “Look, Aaron I –”

“Can I kiss ya?” 

It’s probably the last thing he expected to hear. Aaron’s eyes are so blue, and determined and he’s so close to him.

“Yes.” Robert says, and then Aaron presses him against the wall and runs a hand over the back of Robert’s hair, holds his neck and brings him even closer. When they part, Robert thinks he’s entered another universe or something. “Uh – that wasn’t pity right?”

Aaron laughs a little, keeps a hand snaked around Robert’s waist. “I think.” He genuinely does look like he’s trying to work it out himself. “That was me realising I’ve always fancied ya. Giving the whole kissing you thing a go and not bottling it.”

Robert gulps hard. He feels like he’s under water.

“You –”

“And you like me. We’ve caught each other up yeah?” Aaron tilts his head. 

Robert nods. 

“So you don’t mind sharing a bed then? I don’t think my back could handle the floor.”

Aaron nods. “I don’t mind at all.” He says. 

“That’s good to know.” Robert is so nervous. He feels it rush through him and Aaron probably picks up on it because he kisses him gently.

“Stop staring at me.” Aaron’s eyes are closed an hour later but he has a small smile on his face that won’t budge. 

Robert shakes his head. “I should have told you to pretend to be my boyfriend ages ago.”

Aaron peaks an eye open. “You’ve liked me for a while?”

Robert feels braver suddenly. “Yeah.” He whispers.

“Should have said something.” Aaron says and he scoots a little closer. His leg hangs over Robert’s. “I thought I was reading into things until you asked me here.”

“I didn’t ask you here to win you over.”

“You didn’t need to win me over.” Aaron kisses Robert. Robert doesn’t ever imagine himself getting used to the feeling. “We don’t have to pretend anymore. You up for that.”

Robert can’t think of anything better.

[crispys-records]

so... what are we?

notes: i think more men should have confusing erotic situationships with other men

pairing: sentryagent

synopsis: John’s libido is terrifying, no thanks to the serum, so he has to rely on Bob, who has a weirdly high stamina. But having sex all the time isn't a healthy coping mechanism.

you can read it here! (sneak peak under the cut)

-------------

What?

“What?” John said outloud, turning to look at Bob, who blinked like he had said hello and got a ‘fuck you’ in response.

They were literally just outside John’s bedroom. John had exited his bedroom early in the morning, like always, shirtless and horny and unable to satisfy the stupid itch deep down in his gut. So he was about to make his way towards the training room, thinking that if he couldn’t jerk the feeling away, he might as well try just hitting a punching bag until the feeling was gone. And then he made eye contact with Bob, who was very clearly waiting for him to get up despite the fact that it was 5 in the morning and most of the others would rather sleep in than have any kinds of conversations before 11.

“I said if you wanted me to help, I was always-”

“No, I- I heard you the first time.” John scoffed. “Help with what?”

“Well, you looked like you were frustrated, and I don’t want to sound like a creep, but I’ve heard you, um, relieve yourself late at night and-”

“What?” John asked, louder.

“Listen, Walker, if you need someone to help you… get off, I could-”

“Are you seriously offering to have sex with me right now?”

Was he drunk? Was he high? Was John really having this conversation with Bob, the guy who once drunk 14 margaritas during a team-bonding night to avoid answering any questions about his sex life? That Bob?

“Hey, look, I’ve- I’ve taken some weird shit in the past, I get what-”

“No, I don’t think you could help me if you tried.” John muttered, then coughed out, “No offense.”

“...I could try.” Bob whispered as he walked closer, as if people were going to listen.

John didn’t even think about it. Actually, John was shocked at how readily he agreed to it.

[thecrocthatstoleurshoes]

There's a heatwave rn, and I can't sleep, so have shitty headcanon/incorrect quotes/scenarios I will never be able to fit into a fic/AU:

Tim, eating bowl of icecream: I can't believe he cheated on me :(

Jason: yeah, cheaters are the worst, right Dick?

Dick: ... First of all, how dare you-

--

Damian: no matter how hard I try... no one at school wants to... be friend with me

Jason: yeah I literally can't relate to that at all, but you know who no one likes?

Jason, fingerguns: OH TIM!

Tim: you're the only two who don't like me.

Damian: No, Drake, in fact the writers forget about you all the time

Tim:

Tim: what.

--

Damian:

Dick:

Damian:

Dick:

Damian: You gay?

Bruce: DAMIAN-

Dick, cackling like his days as robin: XD

--

Jason: you're a bitch

Tim: but... you're my hero 🥺

Jason:

Jason: that is more emotional than I am willing to go

--

Tim: stop being homophobic!

Bruce: I'm literally a bisexual whore, but continue-

--

I also love the idea of Bruce trying to hide his identity by pretending that Batman isn't an orphan (or smth idk). But also like... Alfred as a father figure to him (because yes and I said so).

Therefore:

Justice League, trying to comprehend the batfam: okay, so we get it, you're all without fathers-

Batman: not me!

Batman: I fucking love my dad.

I'm aware that he's probably too emotionally conspitated and traumatised for this to happen but I found it funny

--

Tim, watching Dick & Jason panic: What's going on?

Damian: Grayson is having a midlife crisis and Todd is just having a crisis.

--

Steph: Okay guys! If you were a fruit what would you be and why?

Duke: I'd be a tomato because no one accepts me as part of the group.

Steph: ...

Duke: ...

Steph: OKAY GUYS-

--

Jason: I'm going the fight the next person who insults Dick.

Dick: I hate myself.

Jason: Alright, square up

--

Jason, holds a gun out to Dick:

Dick: I-I don't believe in guns.

Jason: Well, trust me, they're very real. Now take it.

--

After Spyral:

Jason: So, you lied to me?

Dick: That depends on how you define lying.

Jason: Well, I define it as not telling the truth. How do you define it?

Dick: Um, reclining your body in a horizontal position?

[dark-lord-of-awesomeness]

Hi! I just read the sequel of PPBB and it’s amazing! Stan’s just really not there and even with the Mood Stone Ford just has no idea what his brother is really like after 10 years. He saw his scars! What happened to him? Is Stan really “my” Stan still? Who is this stranger?

another question - Stans emotions are starting to “peak through” now, is that one of the reasons he removes the abundance charms and bracelets and gets eaten again on the way to his car? :) Because he actually realizes he looked less stupid as a hobo? At least then he didn’t look like a homeless hippy :)

ooh look a phone :)

Fiddleford is trying his best but one guy is like >:( and :,( and the other guy’s just :|

Thank you! Even though PPBB has a happy ending I couldn't imagine Stan getting out of it unscathed, and it was sort of a background thought since it was eating his misery anyway it led to 'Yeah it just ate all of Stan's feelings'. Mostly :) He's not anything like himself without his big heart, which breaks Fords even more. He's a totally different person, which will become evident as the story goes on.

Hmm. Less 'peaking through' and more 'leftovers'. Remember it was eating his negative energy, so everything else is like. Extra? Like you need to eat all your food groups but some people don't like vegetables? Eat enough to get you going but you're not worried about if you miss some? Thats all of Stan's positive feeling here. Sure it needs to eat to get a balanced meal but they don't taste as good as Stan's anger, depression, sadness, and melancholy. Lick those off the plate and just side eye the few pieces of broccoli before moving onto desert (Stan's physical body).

So Stan's feeling flickers of happiness, little moments of amusement or confusion, but he's not angry, or scared, or sad.

More on that later :)

Why he gets gobbled again? Well, why should he be scared of a payphone thats identical to the one that he was eaten at. Ignore the fact that he's not really scared at all, its just a phone, and he has change, and needs to call someone :) why not use the phone thats right there.

Fiddleford came up to help his friend punch a hole in reality a week ago then came to work to find him sleep deprived and threatening people over the phone that somehow lead to him assisting in punching a different kind of hole in reality and summoning his friends half digested twin brother (and he's gonna talk about the fact that he didn't know Stanford's forbidden brother was also his twin one) from a monsters stomach and his friend is a little emotionally unstable about it but the brother is, uh. not. Pillar of emotional strength right here and he's hyperventilating about monsters that can just snatch and eat you off the street. Not pictured (because Stan did not care enough to pay attention) is Fiddleford also wearing a bunch of wards because Ford freaked him out over it.

[liliesonthego]

Knight in Shining Armor

Summary: Scared to walk home alone at night by yourself, you call the one person you know will come help you.

Pairing: Park Humin (Baku) X reader

Genre: fluff

Word count: 2.7k

Authors note: I suck at writing kissing so bare with me

—

Your hand hovered hesitantly over the call button next to Baku’s name. Gravity felt heavy resting against your thumb, willing it to drop to the screen, but your mind found the willpower to hold it up.

Was it really that serious? You knew Baku wouldn’t mind coming—in fact, he’d probably prefer it. But still, you hesitated.

You lifted your head to glance out the window of the convenience store, eyes glazing over the poorly lit street. Your heart lightly thudded again.

You had been walking home from the library late at night after a study session that left you so focused, you lost track of time. Once you realized it was 11:30 p.m., you quickly gathered your things into your bag and rushed out of the building.

When you were in a time crunch, there was a shortcut you liked to take. Yes, it was a little sketchy—you had to go through a few backroads and alleyways—but it usually saved you 20 minutes compared to taking the main road. Granted, whenever you took the shortcut, it was still light out.

Now, in the dark, you realized how many places there were where someone could be standing just out of sight. Corners you couldn’t see around, narrow passageways tucked between buildings, and long stretches where the streetlights flickered—or didn’t work at all. Every rustle behind a dumpster or shadow moving behind a fence made your pulse quicken.

You had taken refuge in a small convenience store managed by a kind old man, debating your next move. You had no doubt you could defend yourself against one person if anything were to happen, but the worst scenarios kept popping into your head. And lately, with all the Union drama, you were more than a little on edge.

So you should just call him, right? Was it silly to worry about inconveniencing him when your life could potentially be in danger? You could almost hear his voice in your head screaming at you to call him. So why did you hesitate?

With a deep sigh, you pushed your ego aside and pressed the call button.

It rang three times before Baku’s voice came booming out of the speaker, yelling your name.

“What are you doing awake at this time? Shouldn’t you be getting your beauty sleep?”

You rolled your eyes, already regretting your decision. “Hey, asshole, it’s only 11...” you trailed off, already regretting the call.

Distant laughter echoed through the phone. You frowned slightly.

“Are you with the guys?”

“Yeah, we’re at the school. Playing basketball,” he said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “Remember? We told you to come, but you said, ‘Yah, I have to study! Being around you guys is making my IQ go down! Dumbasses...’” he imitated in a cheesy high-pitched voice.

“YAH, I don’t talk like that.”

He ignored your complaints. “By the way, where are you?”

“About that...” You hesitated. Why was it so hard to ask for help? Were you being dramatic? This was literally Baku you were talking to. Why was it so hard to ask for help? Plus, he was at the school, which wasn’t that far from where you were now.

He could practically sense the anxiety through the phone. He stepped away from the court, voice dipping low and serious now.

“Hey. Just tell me. What is it?”

Well. It was now or never.

“Well, I was at the library studying and I accidentally lost track of time. And because it’s nighttime, I wanted to get home as soon as possible. So I took the shortcut to save time. But then I felt like someone was watching me. And it was so dark, I started getting creeped out. So I found this convenience store and—” you took a breath between your rambling. He whispered your name so gently.

Ah, fuck it.

“I’m scared. Can you come pick me up?”

He was already walking. “Send me your location right now. You should have called me from the library. And why would you take the shortcut at night? I thought you were supposed to be the smart one,” he scolded.

“Sorry.” He could practically hear the pout on your lips. “It’s okay, you don’t have to come if it’s too much—”

He instantly cut you off.

“YAH! Don’t be stupid. Just send me the location. I’ll be right there. Just stay put.”

Right before he hung up, you heard him yell out to the others, “Gotta go save a princess, guys!”

You regretted calling him instantly.

—

It took him 10 minutes to arrive at the convenience store, which was odd because the school was 20 minutes away according to maps. How he got there so quickly, you chose not to question.

As he entered the convenience store, he bowed deeply to the old man manning the counter and thanked him for keeping an eye on you. The old man smiled with a twinkle in his eye. Baku quickly turned to you. You were standing with your bag on your shoulders, hands clasped together in front of you, fingers twiddling nervously.

He placed his hands gently on your shoulders and softly asked, “Are you okay?”

You nodded at him with wide eyes and whispered, “I’m fine. Thank you for coming.”

He could tell you were embarrassed by the situation, especially now that the older man was observing the two of you. Unbeknownst to Baku, before he got there, the old man had asked if your boyfriend was on his way, to which you stuttered out that you were just friends.

The second you confirmed you were fine, Baku’s serious expression dropped, replaced by that familiar, smug grin.

“So,” he said, tilting his head, “is this the part where you kiss me and thank me for being your knight in shining armor?”

You blinked at him, expression flat. “Absolutely not.”

“Aww, come on,” he cooed mockingly, stepping closer. “You called me in the dead of night, trembling in fear, desperate for me to come save you. Feels pretty fairytale to me.”

“I was not trembling.”

“Right, right. And the ‘Baku, I’m scared, please come save me,’ wasn’t real either? You should hear yourself.”

You shoved his hands off your shoulders, face burning. “I should’ve called literally anyone else.”

“Yeah, good luck finding someone else who’d run to rescue you at 12 a.m.”

You stepped away from him, feet planted firmly on the ground. “I hate you.”

“No, you don’t,” he said smugly, reaching toward you.

“Don’t touch me,” you warned, stepping back.

He lunged anyway, grinning. “Come on, let your hero walk you home.”

You immediately started swatting at him—open-palmed slaps to his chest, shoulders, wherever you could reach—as he dodged your attacks.

“Hey—ow—what the hell are you, a cat?!”

“You deserved it!”

“I’m trying to help you!”

“This is not helping!”

The two of you scuffled in front of the snack aisle like unsupervised children, and the old man behind the counter let out a long, amused sigh.

“I told you I can walk myself—”

“Oh, forget it,” Baku muttered, and before you could react, his arm wrapped tightly around your waist. In one smooth motion, he lifted you off the ground and tossed you over his shoulder.

“Park Humin! Put me down!”

“Not a chance, princess.”

You flailed, fists pounding weakly at his back. “I swear to God—”

“Swear all you want,” he said, completely unfazed.

He turned to bow to the old man again—the picture of politeness despite the kicking girl slung over his shoulder.

“Thanks again, ahjussi. Appreciate you watching over my very violent, very stubborn friend.”

The old man chuckled, shaking his head. “She’s got fire. You’ll have your hands full.”

Baku smirked. “Yeah… I know.”

Outside, the cool night air hit your face as Baku carried you down the steps of the convenience store and into the street. You’d stopped struggling now, arms folded and cheek pressed stubbornly against his back.

He noticed immediately.

“Oh? Done throwing a tantrum?” he asked, cocking his head over his shoulder. “Are you gonna be good now?”

Your face immediately heated up at his words, and you scoffed loudly. “You started it.”

“Whatever helps you sleep at night.” He paused, then added with a grin, “So, are you gonna behave or am I keeping you like this the whole way home?”

You rolled your eyes and mumbled, “I’ll behave.”

“Swear it?”

“Yes, Baku,” you whined.

With exaggerated care, he lowered you to the ground, steadying you before letting go. You adjusted your bag, brushing off your clothes like he’d ruined your dignity forever.

Just as he was about to say something smug, you raised your hand suddenly—fast.

He instinctively flinched, shoulders tensing and head turning, hand coming up to shield his face.

You froze, hand hovering inches from his cheek… then slowly pulled back and smirked.

“Relax,” you said, already turning on your heel. “I'll get my revenge.”

Baku blinked after you, then scoffed, catching up with long strides. “Did I do anything though?”

“Yeah, you’re annoying.”

“Fair enough,” he grinned.

You walked beside him, dragging your feet a little as the adrenaline wore off. The weight of your backpack suddenly lifted, and you looked up to see Baku slinging it over his shoulder like it was nothing.

“Hey—” you started.

He shushed you instantly, and you rolled your eyes but didn’t argue.

A few moments of silence passed, your footsteps the only sound on the quiet street. Then he spoke, voice low and more sincere than usual.

“Thanks.”

You blinked up at him. “For what?”

“For calling me.”

You slowed a little, confused.

He shrugged, gaze fixed ahead. “It feels good, knowing you thought of me first. When something felt off. That I was the one you trusted to show up.”

You stared at him, caught off guard by the honesty. Your cheeks warmed, and you looked down quickly, trying to hide the blush creeping in. “But... shouldn’t I be thanking you?”

He glanced at you briefly. “No.”

“What?”

“I don’t expect gratitude from you,” he said simply. “This kind of thing—looking out for you—it’s the bare minimum. If you ever feel unsafe again, no matter the situation, you call me. Got it?”

You nodded slowly, still taken aback. “Got it.”

“Good,” he muttered, eyes forward again.

You looked ahead, eyes wide with shock.

How could he say things like that so easily? No, how dare he just make your heart beat and your face flush so easily? Were those regular things friends said to each other? Had he somehow found out that you harbored a small—no, tiny—minuscule-at-best crush on him? You had only told one person, and you were confident Sieun had kept that information to herself.

Gotak, however, would always tease you. “Yah, you guys fight like a married couple,” or, “You guys should kiss and make up already.” He technically didn’t know for sure if you liked Baku, but that little shit liked to piss you off regardless.

“Who’s a little shit?”

Your head whipped to the side to look at him.

“What do you mean?”

“You just said, ‘Aishh, that little shit.’”

“Did I say that out loud?”

He looked at you like you’d grown two heads.

“Oh, you’re actually starting to scare me now. Are you okay? Did you hit your head or something? Here—let me check it.”

You immediately ducked away, sidestepping him and picking up your pace.

“Stop being dramatic,” you muttered, walking ahead.

But you didn’t get far.

Baku reached out and grabbed your hand—not rough, but firm enough to stop you. Before you could protest, he tugged you gently into his side, your shoulder bumping against his.

“Stop trying to run off every time I get a little close,” he said, voice quieter now. “It’s starting to hurt my feelings.”

You blinked up at him, surprised by the softness buried under his usual sarcasm. This couldn’t be just friendly. Even you weren’t that oblivious.

“Hey, do you like me or something?” you asked, half joking, half serious.

“Yeah,” he said without hesitation. “I do.”

Your whole brain short-circuited.

“YAH!” you blurted, yanking your hand out of his and immediately smacking him in the chest with the side of your fist. “You can’t just say that!”

“Why not?!”

You kept swinging, light punches landing against his jacket. “Because—! You’re not supposed to be so straightforward! Who even does that?!”

He groaned dramatically and caught both your wrists in one smooth motion, holding them up between your bodies to stop your assault.

“Can you not hit me every time I’m being emotionally honest?!”

You squirmed in his grip, huffing. Now you were standing way too close, barely a breath of space between you.

“…Are you serious?” you asked, eyes narrowing a little. “Like actually serious?”

His voice was calm. “Of course I’m serious. Couldn’t you tell?”

Your heart stuttered. “But… do you know if I even like you?”

He smirked. “Yeah.”

Your eyes widened. “How?! I never said anything, and I’m literally always mean to you.”

He shrugged, still holding your wrists. “I like girls that are mean to me.”

You gawked at him. “You’re insane.”

Then you tried to hit him again.

He dodged, laughing, and twisted your arms gently behind your back, locking your hands in his like it was a game.

“Stop!” he laughed, eyes crinkling. “Ahh, you’re so cute when you’re mad.”

“Let me go!”

“Not until you admit it!”

“Admit what? That you’re insane?!”

“That you like me back.”

You stilled for a moment, glaring up at him.

He just stared back, waiting.

You sighed through your nose. Wasn’t this what you wanted, technically? Was there a point in resisting? It was mildly frustrating that he had the situation all figured out, but your heart leapt with joy under all the fake anger.

“…Fine.”

“Fine?”

You rolled your eyes. “I like you, okay?”

“Say it again,” he grinned.

“Let go of me first!”

“Say it properly.”

“Ugh, I like you, you idiot!”

His grin softened into something more serious.

“I’ve been waiting a long time for you to admit that,” he said, voice low.

Your breath caught.

His gaze dropped from your eyes to your lips, lingering for a beat too long. The teasing was gone now, and his whole focus was on you. Still holding your hands behind your back with one hand, he raised the other, brushing his fingers gently along your cheek.

Your heart thudded so loudly you were sure he could hear it.

His face inched closer, his breath brushing against yours. He tilted his head slightly, eyes flicking back up to meet yours.

“Can I kiss you?”

You swallowed hard.

And nodded.

His face dipped closer, his eyes never leaving yours. You felt his hand shift against your cheek, the warmth of his palm grounding you as his lips brushed gently, almost hesitantly, against yours.

You leaned in, pressing your lips back to his. His lips were warm and soft, caressing yours with the slightest of movements. You could practically hear your heartbeat pounding in your ears.

When you both pulled apart, your eyes fluttered open to meet his.

Neither of you said anything at first.

You smiled up at him instead, cheeks flushed, eyes bright.

Your hands slipped from his grip, and before he could question it, you wrapped them around his neck and pulled him back in, kissing him again—this time with all the feeling you’d been holding back for what felt like forever.

He laughed softly against your mouth, and you giggled too, lips breaking apart just long enough to catch your breath before you kissed him again.

And again.

Goosebumps littered your body with the undeniable feeling of him.

Then you pulled back—just slightly—but he leaned forward instinctively, chasing the kiss.

He looked at you like you’d just broken his heart in the most unforgivable way.

He licked his lips. “Please, why’d you stop?” he asked, genuinely offended.

You smirked and reached up, gently booping his nose with your finger. “Because we’re still in the middle of the street.”

He blinked, then scoffed. “Yeah, but you feel safe with me, right?”

You smiled softly. “Yes, of course. You’re my knight in shining armor.”

He looked at you then like the words genuinely caught him off guard—like he didn’t expect you to say it after vehemently denying it earlier. His expression softened.

You leaned in and kissed him one more time, quick and sweet.

Then you grabbed his hand. “Come on.”

And you ran off down the street, tugging him behind you—your laughter echoing in the night.

And he followed, grinning like an idiot the whole way.