#his description of hot chocolate though

[mangotalkies]

1 episode in. it's stupendously wild and funny.

i was so busy that i forgot good omens season 2 was coming out yesterday.

[pucksandpower]

What’s the Worst That Can Happen?

Charles Leclerc x Reader

Summary: Charles convinces his unathletic girlfriend to join him for his annual winter training ski trip … what’s the worst that can happen?

Warnings: description of ski injury and mentions of surgery

Based on this request

“Pretty please?” Charles begs, giving you his best puppy dog eyes.

You let out an exaggerated sigh. “Oh come on, you know I’m hopeless at anything athletic. I’ll just end up faceplanting in the snow the whole time.”

Charles grins, wrapping his arms around your waist. “That’s what I’m here for, to catch you when you fall.”

“Yeah until I drag us both down a mountain,” you retort.

He laughs. “I promise I won’t let that happen. We’ll start nice and easy on the bunny slopes.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Bunny slopes? Mr. Formula 1 driver wants to ski the bunny slopes with his clumsy girlfriend?”

“Hey, everyone has to start somewhere,” Charles protests. “Even the great Charles Leclerc was once a beginner. And the bunny slopes are the perfect place to learn together.”

You snuggle against his chest, still not convinced. “But it’s so cold there. You know I hate being cold.”

Charles kisses the top of your head. “The hotel has an amazing spa with hot tubs and a sauna. We can warm up in there after skiing. I’ll even give you a massage if you’re sore from falling down too much.”

“Gee thanks,” you laugh. “But what if I really am hopeless at it? I don’t want to ruin your trip.”

“Impossible,” Charles declares. “You could never ruin anything. This is about us having fun together, not about expert skiing. Though I have no doubt you’ll be shredding the black diamonds in no time.”

You smack his chest playfully. “Okay now you’re just lying to make me feel better.”

“Never,” Charles gasps in mock offense. “I have complete faith in your yet-to-be-discovered skiing abilities.”

You bite your lip, smiling shyly. His enthusiasm is adorable, even if misplaced. “Well, I guess it could be fun to try something new together ...”

Charles pumps his fist in excitement. “Yes! That’s my girl, up for an adventure!”

You hold up a finger in warning. “But I get to pick my own skis, and a helmet with a cute design on it. If I’m going to be falling a lot, I at least want to look stylish doing it.”

Charles grins. “Of course, whatever you need. I’ll take you to the best ski shops in town. You’ll be the most fashionable beginner skier on the mountain.”

You smile, shaking your head. “You’re crazy, you know that? Most guys wouldn’t want to deal with their girlfriends being accident-prone novices who will just slow them down.”

Charles takes your hands in his, gazing into your eyes earnestly. “Most guys are idiots then. I don’t care if you’re the clumsiest skier ever, I just want to experience new things with you. We’ll take everything slow, stop for plenty of hot chocolate breaks, and I’ll catch you every time you start to slip. The most important thing is being together.”

Your heart flutters at his words. You lean in for a tender kiss. “How did I get so lucky to find a man as sweet and patient as you?”

Charles smiles, pulling you close again. “I’m the lucky one. Now come on, we better start packing if we want to make our flight tomorrow morning!”

You wrinkle your nose. “Tomorrow? As in, the day after today? Don’t you think that’s rushing it a bit?”

“Why wait any longer to start having fun?” Charles counters enthusiastically. “Unless … you’re trying to back out already?” He pouts accusingly.

“No, no, I already agreed!” You insist. “It’s just, my suitcase is a mess and I’ll have to dig through my winter clothes and shop for ski gear and ...” Your protests trail off at the amused look on his face.

“Excuses, excuses,” Charles teases. “Admit it, you’re trying to stall so you can change your mind.”

You smack his shoulder again. “I am not! I promise I’m not backing out. I’m just … nervous. I’ve never skied before, what if I really am a disaster?” You bite your lip anxiously.

Charles tilts your chin up. “Hey, you’re going to do great. I’ll be with you every step of the way. But if you really aren’t comfortable, we can rethink this.” His eyes search yours with concern. “I don’t want you to feel pressured into anything, even from me. We can pick a different winter trip if you would rather do something else.”

You shake your head, smiling softly. “No, it’s okay. You’re right, it’ll be fun to try something new together. I’m just psyching myself out cause I’ve never been skiing before. But with you there supporting me … I can do it.”

Charles’s face lights up. “Yeah?”

You nod, leaning up on your toes for another lingering kiss. “Yeah. I trust you.”

“You’re the best!” Charles shouts gleefully, lifting you up and spinning you around. You cling to his shoulders, laughing.

“Whoa there, save some of that energy for the slopes,” you tease.

Charles sets you down gently, though his eyes still sparkle with exhilaration. “I’m just excited, that’s all. This is going to be such an amazing trip.” He kisses your forehead. “Thank you for agreeing to come. It means the world that you trust me enough to try this with me.”

You smile, running a hand through his hair. “Of course. Any chance to spend time with you is worth facing my fears and clumsiness.”

Charles grins. “Remember you said that when I have to stop every ten feet on the bunny slope to help you up.”

You smack his chest playfully. “Hey! I might not be totally hopeless.”

“You’re right, I’m sorry,” Charles says seriously. “For all I know, you could be a secret skiing prodigy.”

You snort. “Yeah right. But I promise I’ll try my best not to plow into too many innocent bystanders.”

“That’s the spirit!” Charles encourages. “We’re going to have the best time.”

You smile up at him softly. “I know. Anywhere with you feels like an adventure.”

Charles’s eyes shine with adoration. He leans down for one more lingering kiss. “I love you so much. Now come on, we’ve got packing to do!”

He grabs your hand and you let him lead you excitedly down the hall, butterflies swirling in your stomach. You still feel nervous attempting something so out of your comfort zone. But Charles’s childlike enthusiasm is contagious. And you know without a doubt that by his side, you’re ready to try anything.

What’s the worst that can happen?

***

Famous last words.

This is the only thought running through your head as you stand at the top of the beginner ski slope, knees knocking together nervously. Charles had seemed so confident about this yesterday. But now, staring down the gentle incline covered in packed snow, you’re starting to realize how insane it is to strap slippery sticks to your feet and careen down a mountain.

Beginner slope or not, you’re certain to make a fool of yourself.

Charles must notice your trepidation, because he squeezes your mittened hand gently. “You’ve got this, mon amour. I’ll be right by your side the whole time.”

You smile weakly, comforted by his presence. At least when you inevitably crash and burn, it will be into his strong, steady arms.

Charles grins at you eagerly. “Ready to give it a try?”

You take a deep breath, willing your knees to stop quaking. “As I’ll ever be.”

“That’s the spirit!” Charles says brightly. He turns to address the small crowd behind you — his performance coach Andrea, best friend Joris, photographer Antoine, trainer Nico, and friend Antonio. “Okay guys, let’s start nice and easy so she can get the hang of it. We’ll take turns skiing slowly beside her.”

You feel a rush of gratitude for Charles’ patience and consideration. The other men cheerfully voice their agreement. With so many experienced skiers guiding you, surely you can handle gently sliding down this minor incline.

Charles volunteers to go first, expertly snapping into his skis and gliding to your side. “Just stay relaxed, bend your knees, and focus on keeping your tips pointing forward. The snow will do most of the work, you just have to guide the direction. I’ll stay right here if you need me.”

You wobble forward, mimicking Charles’ athletic stance as best you can. The slope doesn’t look nearly as gentle anymore now that you’re staring down it. But with Charles’ coaxing, you slowly push off.

For a moment, you feel triumphant. The icy wind whips past your face as you coast downhill, skis sliding smoothly. You’re doing it! This isn’t so hard after all.

But your small victory is short-lived. An unexpected bump jolts you, throwing off your tenuous balance. You pinwheel your arms frantically as the ground rushes up to meet you.

Before you can taste snow, Charles’ strong hands grip your waist, stabilizing you back upright. “Whoa there! I’ve got you, just regain your balance.”

Your heart pounds against your ribs. But the reassurance in Charles’s voice helps settle your nerves. With his support steadying you, you manage to get both skis back under control.

“Thanks,” you sigh in relief. “That would have been a quick first run.”

Charles grins. “What are ski instructors for? You recovered nicely. Want to keep going to the bottom?”

You eye the remainder of the slope warily. But so far with Charles’ help, you’ve managed not to cause a complete disaster. “Okay, but stay close please.”

“Always,” Charles promises, sticking to your side like glue.

With Charles’ hand hovering protectively behind your back, you make it the rest of the way down the slope with only a few wobbles. At the bottom, you collapse into Charles’ arms, exhilarated.

“I did it!” You cheer. Charles sweeps you up in a hug, spinning you around.

“You were amazing!” He proclaims proudly. “A natural.”

You smack his shoulder. “Oh stop, I would have face-planted in two seconds without you.”

“But you didn’t and that’s what matters,” Charles insists earnestly. “I told you this would be fun!”

You can’t help but smile, caught up in his enthusiasm. As the rest of the group takes their turns skiing slowly beside you for a few more timid runs, you start to relax into the motion. Having skilled athletes guide you step-by-step gives you the confidence to slide a little faster, turn more smoothly, and keep your balance over bumps.

With each successful run, Charles’ grin grows impossibly wider. “Look at you go!” He exclaims after your latest effort. “You’ve gotten so good, I might have some competition soon.”

You snort. “Let’s not get carried away.” But secretly, you’re thrilled by the progress. Maybe you do have some hidden athletic talent after all.

On your next run, you’re feeling confident enough to wave Charles forward. “I think I can make it one time on my own now. Just stay ahead in case I start to wobble.”

“You sure?” Charles checks, poised protectively at your side. At your firm nod, he smiles. “Alright, you’ve got this! I’ll just be a few paces ahead.”

As Charles slides effortlessly downhill, you push off after him, a fierce look of determination on your face. For a few moments, everything goes perfectly. You whoop excitedly as you zip down the slope, wind stinging your cheeks. Charles cheers you on from where he’s stopped halfway down.

But right as you reach him, disaster strikes. Your left ski hits a patch of ice and skids wildly sideways. You flail your arms, trying to stay upright, but it’s too late. Your legs fly out from under you and you’re airborne, the white ground spinning dizzily.

You slam down hard on your bottom with a painful whump. For a second, stunned silence fills the air. Then Charles is at your side, helping you up as raucous laughter echoes from the group gathered at the bottom.

“You okay?” Charles asks, barely contained mirth dancing in his eyes.

You groan theatrically. “Only my pride is bruised.”

Charles wraps an arm around your shoulders, joining in the laughter. “It was an awesome run up until that point!”

You lean your throbbing head against him for support. “Laugh it up, superstar. We can’t all be pros like you.”

Charles presses a quick kiss to your helmet. “Even the pros take spills sometimes. Falling is part of learning. And you really are getting so good!”

From below, Joris cups his hands to shout encouragingly, “We’re proud of you!” The rest of the group gives thumbs up and cheers.

Their support, combined with Charles’ steadfast pride, melts away your embarrassment. This mishap was simply proof you still have more to learn on your journey to skiing mediocrity.

After a few more cautious runs under the wing of Charles’ companions, you regain the courage to try solo again. Each time you stay upright a little longer, recovering from slips with increasing agility. The sun reflects brilliantly off the pristine white slopes, making you squint against the glare. But with the Dolomites rising majestically around you, icy air filling your lungs, and Charles’ voice urging you onward, you feel truly in your element.

By afternoon, the group decides you’re ready for something more challenging. Charles leads everyone to the top of a longer and steeper slope. It’s still rated for beginners, but looking down the incline makes your stomach drop.

“You’ve got this,” Charles says as you stare uncertainly. “It looks scary, but you’ll build up speed gradually. Just remember everything you’ve learned.”

You take a deep breath and nod, encouraged by his vote of confidence. As the others line up to follow behind you, Charles gives your gloved hand one last encouraging squeeze.

“See you at the bottom, mon amour!” He snaps on his own skis and glides smoothly to the base to wait. Heart hammering against your ribs, you push off.

The acceleration down the hill is alarming at first, icy wind biting your cheeks. But focusing on keeping your skis parallel, you manage to control your speed, leaning into smooth turns like Charles taught you.

Halfway down the slope you chance a glance over your shoulder. The group is fanned out behind you, following your path and whooping encouragement. Their cheers on this more difficult hill send a thrill of pride through you. Just wait until you tell your friends back home that you, Miss Uncoordinated Klutz herself, skied down an actual mountain!

But in your moment of distraction, disaster strikes again. Your right ski snags on something, jerking you off balance. Panicked, you spin your arms rapidly to recover. But it’s too late. You’re careening out of control, picking up dangerous speed.

“Look out!” You scream as you zip across the slope sideways. But the ground is racing too fast to stop. Other skiers scatter hastily out of your path as you barrel toward them like a runaway freight train. You slam through their midst in a spray of snow, not even having time to wince apologetically at the curses that follow your wake.

Up ahead, Charles’ figure grows rapidly larger as you hurtle toward him. He holds out his arms bracingly, but the impact when you collide sends you both tumbling head over heels in a tangle of skis and poles. Snow sprays violently in your wake.

When you finally roll to a stop, face down and groaning at the base of the slope, all is silent. Hesitantly you raise your head, blinking snow from your eyelashes. The sight that greets you is one of absolute chaos.

Skiers litter the slope, sprawled in your destructive path like fallen bowling pins. Poles, hats, and gloves are strewn haphazardly across the snow. Fresh scarlet tracks stain the pristine white from ski edges catching on now-shredded pants and jackets. Groans of pain and bewilderment fill the air.

Horrified, your gaze lands on Charles pushing himself up just a few feet away, covered head to toe in snow. He shakes powder from his hair, blinking dazedly. Then his eyes land on you.

“Mon amour, are you okay?” He asks, scrambling over in concern.

Mortified tears prickle your eyes as you stare speechlessly around at the scene of destruction. So much for impressing everyone with your burgeoning ski talents.

Some first day on the slopes this turned out to be.

***

As Charles helps haul you to your feet, pain suddenly explodes in your left knee. You cry out, leg buckling dangerously beneath you. Charles’ arms instantly wrap around your waist, holding you up.

“What’s wrong?” He asks, brow creased in concern.

You grimace, tentatively trying to put weight on your leg again only for searing agony to shoot through your knee joint. “Something’s really wrong,” you gasp through clenched teeth.

Charles’ face pales. He keeps you supported against his side as he quickly unclips your skis so you’re not stuck in them. The moment your left foot touches the snow though, you yell in pain, leg giving out dangerously again.

Charles sweeps you up effortlessly in his arms. “I’ve got you, don’t try to stand on it,” he urges worriedly.

Over Charles’ shoulder, you see his friends weaving through the dispersing crowd of skiers, fetching a medic. As they confer in urgent French and Italian, Charles holds you close, face etched with guilt.

“This is all my fault,” he murmurs, distressed. “I never should have pushed you to try skiing when you weren’t comfortable.”

Despite the fire burning inside your knee, you force a pained smile, touching Charles’ cheek. “Hey, don’t do that. I wanted to try, remember? You didn’t pressure me into anything.”

Charles just shakes his head bitterly. “But look what happened. I’m so sorry, mon amour.”

You open your mouth to protest further, but just then the medic arrives with a toboggan sled. Charles gently sets you down on the padded plastic. You recline back, trying not to jostle your leg as the medic examines your rapidly swelling knee.

At the lightest touch, you flinch away with a sharp cry. The medic frowns. “Possibile lesione al legamento crociato anteriore. Abbiamo bisogno di portarla in ospedale,” he says grimly.

Charles squeezes your hand, face pale. “He thinks you may have torn your ACL. They need to take you to the hospital.”

You blink back panicked tears. You’ve always been prone to clumsiness, but nothing this severe. As the medic gestures ski patrol over to help transport you, the pain throbbing inside your knee seems to mock your brief foray into athleticism. Maybe you just aren’t cut out for winter sports after all.

Charles refuses to leave your side during the bumpy toboggan ride down the mountain. At the base, an ambulance is waiting to take you to the nearest hospital. While the paramedics work swiftly to transfer you into the back, Charles cradles your hand, looking utterly distraught.

“I never should have let this happen,” he berates himself again. “What was I thinking taking an inexperienced skier down that slope?”

Despite your pain-induced haze, you glare sternly at him. “Charles, stop. This isn’t your fault, it’s mine for losing control. Please don’t blame yourself, you’ll make me feel even worse.”

Charles still looks unconvinced. But he forces a tight smile, brushing hair back from your face. “I’m sorry. I just hate seeing you in pain. Let’s just focus on getting you fixed up. The doctors will know how to help.”

You nod, trying not to let panic overwhelm you. As the ambulance wails toward the hospital, Charles keeps his gaze locked comfortingly on yours.

Once there, nurses whisk you immediately in for x-rays and MRIs. Charles paces the waiting room, refusing offers from his friends to bring him food or drinks. When the doctor finally emerges, Charles springs forward anxiously. “How is she?”

The doctor’s solemn expression says it all. “Your girlfriend has sustained a complete ACL rupture. She will require reconstructive surgery as soon as possible to repair it.”

Charles sags back against the wall, color draining from his face. You fight back tears as the doctor explains your diagnosis — one of the worst knee injuries possible. It will require months of intensive rehab even after the surgery.

When the doctor leaves, Charles returns to sit by your side from where he was pacing back and forth. The pain in your knee has settled into a pervasive throbbing. At the sight of your obvious anguish, Charles’ stoic facade finally crumbles.

“I’m so sorry,” he chokes out, rushing to your side. “This is all my fault.”

You grab his hand fiercely, despite the IV of painkillers tugging at your skin. “Charles, stop. I already told you not to blame yourself. It was an accident.”

“An accident I caused by pressuring you to ski,” Charles argues miserably.

You level your most stern glare at him. “Charles Leclerc, you listen to me. I chose to try skiing. Me. Not you.” Your voice softens. “So please stop tormenting yourself over this. It kills me to see you like this.”

Charles searches your face silently for a long moment. Finally he nods, exhaling shakily. “You’re right. I’m sorry.” He gently brushes a strand of hair behind your ear. “I just hate that you’re hurt. But no more blaming myself, I promise.”

You smile weakly. “Good. Now come here.” Charles leans down and you tug him into a fierce kiss, trying to convey without words that you don’t hold him responsible.

When you pull back, Charles looks significantly less tormented. He caresses your cheek tenderly. “I’ll take care of you, I swear. You’ll get the best care possible and recover even stronger than before.”

You try for a teasing smile. “Guess you’ll have to find a new ski bunny next season.”

Charles shakes his head. “Never. No one could ever replace you.” His voice drops earnestly. “I don’t care if you never ski again, I just want you healthy and happy.”

Before you can reply, the doctor returns with consent forms for surgery. When he mentions performing the operation here, Charles’ brow furrows.

“No, she needs the best surgeon possible for this injury,” he argues. Turning to you, he adds, “I know a specialist at a private clinic in Austria. It’s where all the elite skiers go. I’ll fly us there tonight.”

Your eyes widen at the suggestion, but you know better than to argue once Charles is in protective mode. You have a feeling you’re about to receive world-class medical treatment fit for an Olympian.

Sure enough, Charles arranges for emergency transport to the prestigious clinic. On the flight, he sits vigilantly by your side, holding your hand through every painful bump of turbulence. By the time you’re admitted to the glamorous facility, you’re touched, but not surprised by the lengths he’s gone to in order to help you.

The surgeon Charles selected, Dr. Braun, inspires immediate confidence with his warm bedside manner and decorated credentials. After thoroughly examining your knee, he determines you are indeed a candidate for ACL reconstruction.

Charles listens intently as Dr. Braun explains the procedure, involving grafting tissue to replace your ruptured ligament. Though you try to follow along, exhaustion and pain medication make it hard to focus. All you can register is Charles rubbing your shoulder and reassuring you that Dr. Braun is the best there is. You trust Charles completely, so his confidence in this surgeon is enough.

Too soon, nurses arrive to prep you for surgery. As they wheel your gurney toward the operating room, Charles walks alongside, face etched with worry. He leans down to press a gentle kiss to your forehead.

“I’ll be right here when you wake up,” he promises. “I love you so much.”

You cling to his hand for as long as possible before the nurses firmly insist he can’t go any further. As the operating room doors swing shut between you, separating you from Charles, your heart clenches anxiously. But Dr. Braun smiles kindly down at you, patting your arm.

“Not to worry, we’ll have that knee fixed up nicely,” he says. “When you wake, you’ll be on the road to recovery.”

As the anesthesia mask descends and your vision fades to black, you cling to the doctor’s reassuring words. Maybe there’s still hope for a somewhat happy ending to this disastrous ski trip after all.

***

As you blearily open your eyes, the first thing you see is Charles’ worried face hovering over you. The moment he notices you stirring, his expression floods with relief.

“Thank god,” he breathes, grasping your hand tightly. “How are you feeling?”

You blink slowly, trying to clear the hazy fog of anesthesia from your brain. “Okay I think.” Your voice comes out scratchy. You glance down at the heavy brace immobilizing your knee and the events leading up to surgery come rushing back. “Did it … go alright?”

Charles smoothes your hair back gently. “Everything went perfectly. Dr. Braun said it was a very successful surgery.”

You exhale, tension easing from your shoulders. With the capable doctor and Charles by your side, you’ve made it through the first step.

Right on cue, Dr. Braun enters, smiling when he sees you awake. “Wonderful, you’re up. How is our patient feeling?”

“A little groggy, but not too much pain yet,” you report.

“Excellent. The pain medication should be keeping you comfortable.” Dr. Braun moves to your bedside, examining your knee closely. “Everything continues to look promising in recovery. You’ll need to take it very easy for the next few weeks to protect the graft while it heals. But if all goes smoothly, you’ll be back on your feet before you know it.”

You nod, stomach swooping anxiously at the thought of the long recovery ahead. Noticing your nervous expression, Charles gives your hand a reassuring squeeze.

“Whatever she needs, we’ll make sure she has the best care and recovers properly,” he tells Dr. Braun seriously.

The doctor smiles. “Her rehabilitation will be the most crucial part. I work closely with a wonderful physical therapist, Elisa, who specializes in ACL reconstruction recovery. I highly recommend continuing your physio with her once you return home.”

Your eyes widen, not having considered that aspect yet. But Charles nods without hesitation. “Just tell us where she’s located and I’ll arrange for her to fly out to stay with us as long as needed. Money is no object.”

“Whoa, wait a minute,” you interject, head still fuzzy but fairly certain booking a private international physiotherapist is overkill. “That’s incredibly generous, but I’m sure I can find someone local-”

Charles silences you with a stern look. “Not a chance. Dr. Braun said this Elisa is the best. I won’t risk your recovery with anything less.” Turning back to the doctor, he adds, “Just say the word and I’ll have a plane and a place to stay waiting for her.”

You sigh, but can’t help feeling touched at the lengths Charles will go to help you heal. Dr. Braun seems equally unfazed by the bold offer — clearly Charles’ wealth affords certain privileges in care.

“I’ll speak to Elisa immediately and make the arrangements then,” Dr. Braun confirms. “With around the clock support from both her and myself, I’m confident you’ll recover wonderfully.” He gives your other knee an encouraging pat.

Over the next few days in the upscale hospital, you begin to adjust to the restrictive new reality of your injury. While your knee remains heavily braced and immobilized, the rest of your body seems to ache from compensating. But true to his word, Charles sticks to your bedside attentively, keeping you distracted with games and books during the long inactive hours.

When Dr. Braun finally clears you for discharge, you’re armed with piles of post-op instructions, crutches, and medications. As Charles helps you hobble out of the hospital lobby, you eye the crutches nervously.

“I’m not sure I can manage these things along with the brace,” you admit. The awkward metal sticks feel precarious beneath your arms.

Charles frowns, glancing between you and the crutches uncertainly. Then in one swift motion he sweeps you up into his arms instead.

You yelp in surprise, wrapping your arms around his neck. “Charles! What are you doing?”

“Carrying you, obviously,” he states, as if this were the most natural solution in the world. When you open your mouth to protest, he silences you with a look. “The doctor said to stay completely off your leg if possible. So no walking for you until it’s healed.”

You know better than to argue with Charles in protective caretaker mode. So you simply chuckle, shaking your head in amusement, and let him carry you like a princess out to the idling car.

At the airport, he again insists on keeping you cradled securely in his arms the entire walk out to the waiting private jet. Normally you’d feel self-conscious being lugged around like this in front of staff. But the utter tenderness in Charles’ hold makes you feel nothing but safe.

Once settled on the plush leather seat, Charles hurriedly arranges pillows under your braced leg. “Here, keep it elevated like Dr. Braun said. Do you need more pain meds? Let me grab you an ice pack ...”

He fusses attentively until you’re thoroughly bundled up with your knee raised and iced. Only once he’s certain you have everything required for the flight does Charles take his own seat, lacing his fingers through yours.

“Get some rest if you can,” he says gently. “I’ll wake you when we land to carry you home.”

You roll your eyes but can’t help smiling. “My knight in shining armor.” Leaning your head on his shoulder, you nuzzle into his warmth. The steady rumble of the engines is soothing, and despite your lingering aches, you feel yourself beginning to drift off.

Throughout the flight, Charles continues diligently caring for you. He helps you hobble to the restroom with assistance. He ensures you take your next round of medications on schedule. When the flight attendant delivers meals, Charles only picks at his own, too focused on making sure you actually eat to remember his food.

You’re simultaneously touched and exasperated by his hyper-vigilance. But you know it comes from a place of love and residual guilt, so you endure his constant fussing without complaint. If doting on you helps absolve his conscience, then so be it.

By the time the jet begins its descent toward Nice, your eyelids are drooping heavily. Charles lifts the window shade, sunlight streaming over your face. “Almost home,” he says with a tender smile.

You blink groggily, glancing down to make sure your knee is still properly supported. Reassured that Charles hasn’t forgotten a single detail of your care, you nestle back against his chest contentedly.

As the jet coasts down the runway, Charles cradles you close, placing a kiss atop your head. “Get some rest, mon amour. I’ll carry you out and get you settled back home.”

His quiet promise fills you with cozy warmth despite the lingering chill from your ice pack. You let your heavy eyelids fall shut, lulled by the steady thump of Charles’ heart.

Tomorrow your intensive recovery begins. But tonight, safely encircled in your love’s arms thousands of feet in the air, you feel confident you have the strength to face whatever lies ahead.

***

When you wake a few weeks later, pale morning light is just beginning to creep across the blankets. Blearily, you glance over to see Charles already awake beside you, brow furrowed as he stares up at the ceiling.

“You’re up early,” you murmur sleepily. “Everything okay?”

Charles startles slightly, as if pulled from deep thought. He forces a smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. “Of course, just thinking about some things.”

You prop yourself up on one elbow, scrutinizing him in concern. His evasive tone is uncharacteristic. “What’s going on? And don’t say nothing, I can tell something’s bothering you.”

Charles holds your gaze silently for a moment before letting out a heavy sigh. “It’s nothing, really. I’ve just been thinking about the start of the season coming up so soon.”

Your brow furrows. The opening race in Bahrain is only two weeks away. As the realization hits, your heart sinks. With your still-mending knee, it will be a lot harder to keep up with Charles globetrotting to races worldwide. For the past two seasons of your relationship, you’ve attended every race possible together. The thought of that no longer being the case feels daunting.

“Oh,” you say quietly. “I guess I hadn’t thought that far ahead yet.”

Charles’ expression is conflicted. He gently takes your hand, “I just hate the idea of leaving you here alone when you’re still recovering. It doesn’t feel right being apart.”

You force an optimistic smile. “Hey, don’t worry about me. I can take care of myself and Elisa will still be here for physical therapy. I’ll be okay.”

But your reassurance doesn’t seem to ease Charles’ frown. “I know, I’m just worried about you re-injuring yourself with no one here. I can get my mother to check on you too ...”

As he spirals back into restless thoughts, you squeeze his hand firmly. “Charles, stop. I’ll be fine, I promise. This isn’t my first time on my own, remember?”

Charles grimaces. “I know, but you’re hurt now. I just hate leaving you when you’re still recovering. If something happened while I was gone ...” He trails off, looking stricken.

Your heart swells at his protectiveness. But you won’t let him torment himself with hypotheticals. Sitting up fully, you level Charles with your most stubborn expression.

“Well then, it’s a good thing you won’t be leaving me here for long, because I’m coming with you just like always.”

Charles gapes. “What? No, you’re injured, there’s no way-”

“Uh uh,” you interrupt firmly. “I’ve been to every race I could since we got together, and I’m not about to miss one now over a bum knee. I’ll agree to skip pre-season testing but then I’m going to Bahrain no matter what.”

Charles' mouth opens and closes wordlessly before he finally manages to argue, “But how will you manage airports and flights and crowded paddocks? You’re still on crutches!”

You wave a hand dismissively. “So I’ll hobble around the paddock looking pathetic, big deal. Better than moping here alone.” Crossing your arms, you fix Charles with your most unyielding stare. “Face it, you’re stuck with me.”

Charles searches your determined expression, clearly trying to formulate another protest. But he knows you too well, can recognize when your mind is made up. With a resigned chuckle, he pulls you against his chest.

“You are the stubbornest person ever, you know that?” He kisses the top of your head, a smile in his voice. “But I really shouldn’t be surprised. Nothing can stop you from being there to cheer me on.”

You grin, basking happily in his embrace. “Damn right. You should know by now that I’m going to be by your side every race, no matter what.”

Charles just shakes his head in amused exasperation, arms tightening around you. “Well in that case, it seems I have some calls to make to arrange for your care in the paddock.”

You kiss his jaw tenderly. “See? Problem solved.” Settling back against the pillows, you add teasingly, “Now stop stressing and let me sleep a little more. Unlike you, I need my beauty rest.”

Charles barks out a laugh, the last tension fading from his frame. As you drift back into cozy slumber cradled against his chest, his steady breathing lulls you like a soothing melody.

Later that morning, it’s time for your daily physical therapy session in the makeshift rehab space set up in your apartment. Elisa guides you through gentle range of motion and strengthening exercises, keeping up cheerful encouragement. The work is grueling, but Elisa’s optimism inspires you to push through the discomfort.

You’ve just finished up with an ice break when hushed voices drift in from the adjacent room. Craning your neck, you glimpse Charles sitting at the kitchen island, phone to his ear as he rifles through an open notebook. Though you can’t make out his full conversation, you catch snippets.

“Need to make sure she has somewhere to rest comfortably ...”

“Don’t want her trying to walk too far ...”

“She says she’ll be fine, but I need to be sure ...”

You muffle a laugh into your hand. Of course Charles is already contacting Ferrari about you joining him in Bahrain, planning every detail to accommodate your injury. Elisa raises a questioning eyebrow but you just shake your head with a smile. Charles’ protectiveness never fails to make your heart melt.

Oblivious to your eavesdropping, Charles continues speaking in a hushed but urgent tone. You can visualize his serious expression pinched with concern, wanting to arrange every detail to ensure your comfort during race weekends.

It’s hopeless trying to curb his caring instincts. So you simply shake your head in amusement and turn back to your exercises, resolved not to override the plans you’re clearly not meant to hear.

After your session concludes, Elisa helps you prop up your leg to ice before gathering her things. “You’re making great progress,” she encourages. “Keep it up and you’ll be back to normal before you know it.”

You smile through your fatigue. “Thanks for everything. See you tomorrow?”

Elisa nods, waving farewell as she heads out. Once she’s gone, you eye your crutches propped nearby. Normally you’d use them to hobble around, but mischief sparks inside you. This seems like the perfect time to test your boyfriend’s hovering instincts.

Bracing yourself on the workout table, you carefully rise to your feet, keeping all weight on your good leg. The short hobble to the living room leaves you breathless, but triumphant.

Rounding the corner, you spot Charles sitting on the couch reviewing emails on his tablet. Before he notices your approach, you boldly flop down to sprawl across his lap.

Charles yelps in surprise, tablet clattering away as his arms reflexively cradle you. “What are you doing walking around alone? Where are your crutches?”

You grin up at him impishly. “Must have forgotten them back there. But I managed okay for a short distance.”

Charles gapes, torn between horror at your recklessness and awe at your determination. You take advantage of his stunned silence to wrap your arms around his neck and tug him down into a kiss.

“Have I mentioned how amazing and caring you are?” You murmur when you finally separate for air. “Taking care of me even when you think I don’t notice?”

Understanding flashes across Charles’ face and his cheeks tint pink. “You heard that phone call earlier, didn’t you?” At your smug grin he groans. “I should have known I couldn’t get anything past you.”

You laugh, nuzzling your nose against his. “It was very sweet. But you really don’t need to go through so much trouble for me.”

Charles’ eyes lock earnestly on yours. “It’s no trouble at all. I want to make sure your needs are taken care of so you can be comfortable and safe.” He brushes your hair back gently. “I hate the thought of you struggling while supporting me at races.”

Your playful expression softens. You take his hand, intertwining your fingers against your heart. “Do whatever you have to do so that you can focus on driving your best without worrying about me. I’m a big girl, I can handle a few weeks of long flights and sitting in the back of your garage instead of standing. As long as I’m cheering for you, I’ll be happy.”

Charles searches your face, as if committing every detail to memory. “I don’t deserve you,” he says finally, voice husky.

You smile, squeezing his hand. “Sure you do. We take care of each other. It’s what partners do.”

Charles’s eyes shimmer with emotion. He cradles your jaw, kissing you deeply. When he draws back, the anxious creases in his face have smoothed away, leaving only tenderness.

“I promise I’ll do my best not to worry,” he concedes. “Just promise you won’t push yourself too hard.”

“Deal,” you agree easily, then smirk. “Now, how about carrying me back to the crutches you claim I so desperately need?”

Charles laughs, once again sweeping you effortlessly into his arms. You cling to his shoulders, perfectly content to let him fuss over you just a little longer.

***

“We should all go skiing together!”

Pierre’s enthusiastic suggestion makes you freeze mid-bite, forkful of pasta suspended comically halfway to your open mouth. Across the table, Charles goes completely still, face draining of color.

Oblivious to your boyfriend’s reaction, Pierre barrels on with growing excitement. “There are some amazing resorts in the Alps we could visit over New Year’s. Epic mountains, fresh powder-”

“No!” Charles interjects forcefully. He looks mildly ill at just the thought. “Absolutely not happening.”

Pierre blinks in surprise at the vehement refusal. Even his girlfriend, Kika, appears confused by Charles’ sudden change in demeanor. You have to press your lips together to keep from laughing at their bemused expressions.

“But why?” Pierre asks, brow furrowed. “I thought you loved skiing.”

Charles shudders. “Not anymore. Not after ...” He trails off, eyes darting to you meaningfully.

Understanding dawns on Pierre’s face. “Oh! Right, of course.” He smiles apologetically. “Sorry, I didn’t think-”

You wave a hand, unable to contain your amusement any longer. “It’s okay, Pierre. I know you didn’t mean to bring up traumatic memories.” You cast a teasing glance at Charles. “But I think skiing might permanently be off the table for us.”

Charles nods emphatically. “Absolutely. Never again. From now on, we take beach vacations only. Somewhere warm, with no snow, mountains, or treacherous icy slopes.” He shudders again for effect.

By now, you’re laughing so hard you have to set down your water glass to avoid spilling it. You knew Charles was still sensitive about the topic of skiing, but you hadn’t anticipated him having such an extreme reaction tonight. His overprotective dramatics are too adorable.

Still chuckling, you lean over to smack a kiss on his cheek. “You’re being ridiculous, but it’s very sweet that you’re so traumatized on my behalf.”

Charles wraps an arm around you, some tension easing from his shoulders. “After what you went through, can you blame me for swearing off anything to do with skiing forever?” He shakes his head vehemently. “Never again. It was the most terrifying experience. I thought I might have permanently damaged the love of my life.”

Your heart melts. “I’m completely fine now, thanks to you. But I can understand preferring to avoid ski trips in the future.” You smile teasingly. “We can find a nice beach to lounge on instead.”

Pierre chuckles. “Yeah, that’s probably smarter. Sorry for bringing up bad memories.” He smiles sheepishly across the table. “A tropical vacation does sound nice though!”

The group dissolves into easy laughter, the awkwardness forgotten. The conversation meanders to warmer destinations and the approaching off-season. Charles eventually relaxes his grip on you, seeming reassured that skiing is off the table.

You make it through the rest of the amicable double date without incident. As you all exit the restaurant into the cool night air, Pierre turns to you and Charles apologetically.

“Really sorry again for that ski trip suggestion earlier. Definitely wasn’t thinking.”

You wave off his concerns with an easy smile. “Don’t worry about it! No harm done.” You pause, then add impishly, “Though from now on, Charles may vet all vacation plans just to be safe.”

Charles nods, face comically serious. “It’s true. I take your physical safety very seriously now.” His grave expression cracks into a grin. “So expect lots of beach vacations in our future together!”

Everyone dissolve into laughter again. After final farewell hugs, you and Charles head to your car, his arm wrapped securely around your shoulders.

Once home, Charles tucks you into bed with an amount of care bordering on reverence. As he curls up behind you, you lace your fingers through his against your heart.

“Have I told you lately how amazing you are?” You murmur into the darkness.

You feel Charles smile against your hair. “Maybe, but feel free to say it again.”

You snuggle deeper into his embrace. “You’re pretty much the best boyfriend on the planet. I love how protective you are over me, even when it’s a bit dramatic. It just shows how much you care.”

Charles presses a kiss to the top of your spine. “Of course I care. You mean everything to me.” His voice drops lower. “I never want to be the reason you get hurt again.”

You roll over to face him, gently cradling his jaw. “You could never hurt me. What happened was an accident, and I recovered just fine. So no more feeling guilty, okay?”

Even in the dim light you can see the sincerity in Charles’ eyes as he searches your face. “You really are too good for me,” he murmurs. “I’ll try to stop feeling overly responsible. Though I make no promises on vetoing future ski trip suggestions,” he adds with a teasing grin.

You laugh, snuggling happily against his chest. “Now get some sleep.”

As his breaths deepen into slumber, you reflect on how lucky you are to have found someone so devotedly caring. With Charles’ fiercely protective presence heating the sheets beside you, the future — filled with sandy beaches rather than ski slopes — looks bright indeed.

[januaryembrs]

hot chocolate!

(last one i promise)

reader & spencer who aren’t exactly enemies but they’re def not friends but reader always double checks if spencer’s fbi vest is secured correctly which in return makes spencer check her over as well and they’re always like ‘stop checking up on me and worry about your own safety’ and it just happens every single time and they swear up and down that they dislike eachother deeply (they need to make out)

BANE OF MY EXISTENCE | Spencer Reid x reader

description: Spencer hates you, and you hate him, until it comes to protecting each other in the field

length: 0.7k

His fingers wound through the back of your vest as you made a move to dart past him, trailing after Hotch as you loaded your glock. 

You felt a yank at your neck, his obnoxiously long arms giving you a firm tug back with little to no effort, all but making you stumble backwards as he forced you to stop, and his fingers were at your hip, adjusting the strap before you could ask him just exactly what he was doing. 

“Wha- Reid, let go, my vest is fine,” You snapped, huffing when he ignored you, in the interest of fixing your belt, his brow turned down into a frown. 

“Don’t come crying to me when you get shot in abdomen and suddenly you’re bleeding out, and you lay there and thinking, dang if only the smart FBI would have told me to adjust my kevlar, and I’ll be right there to point and laugh and say I told you so,” He huffed, his fingers making light work of the fiddly strap, tightening it until he couldn’t see a single inch of your shirt to the point he heard your breathing constrict, but he thought he’d rather you be a little uncomfortable than shot. 

“I mean, if I’m laying bleeding out I won’t really have much to say other than, Reid, get medical, I think they hit something serious, please don’t come to my funeral, you were insufferable enough when I was living,” You said, allowing your body to be tugged back as he started on the other side, because there was no use fighting it when he got in those moods when he always needed to be right. 

He paused, his brain catching up to your words and he drew in a silent breath, wondering if the other side of your jacket needed tightening even more, or better yet, if there was any way Hotch would make you stay in the car as back up. 

Spencer yanked the strap with a vendetta, ignoring the way you whined it was too tight, and his lips pursed together. 

“Would you relax, I was clearly kidding,” You said, thinking his mood had come from your teasing, because you seemed to know exactly what to say to push every one of his buttons, “What I would probably be thinking however is if you’ll be able to flag down a medic with your shoelaces untied,”

His gaze snapped to his converse, and sure enough the double knot he relied on seemed to have failed him, and his strings were hazard material as they dragged along the pavement, already mucky where they’d probably been undone for hours. 

“Make sure you do them before we move in, I’m not carrying your bone head out of there if we start taking hits and you trip over your own feet,” You snipped, and he finally released you, immediately leaning down to fix his own issues, completely missing the way your eyes trailed down to make sure he did the loops tight enough because you were being serious when you said it would loathe you to be the one to carry him away from the danger, though probably not in the way he thought. 

He huffed, standing back to his full height and giving his feet a wiggle in their shoes to make sure they were comfortable, and he looked back at you where you were watching him carefully, catching the split second where something close to worry pooled in your eyes. 

It snapped back into your usual cold demeanour when you realised he was looking straight at you, and you whirled you keep your back to him, inspecting your loaded gun some more as a way to busy yourself. 

“Try not to miss, it doesn’t look good on the reports when I have to save your ass twice,” Spencer snarked, and he practically heard the scoff before you even gave it. 

“That was one time, Reid, and it was only cause I couldn’t see past your stupid fluffy hair. You’re a cop, Reid, not a poodle, you don't need that much volume,” You snapped back, the two of you squabbling the entire walk to the building, until Hotch separated you for the sake of his growing headache. 

He just wished you two would talk things out before he seriously considered Emily’s proposition of locking you in the broom closet together.

[thelightsandtheroses]

Sweater Weather | Joel Miller x female reader

Summary: When you pick up a hobby again as the seasons turn in Jackson, Joel wonders why you won’t make him a sweater. Word Count: 2k Warnings: established relationship, pure fluff, copious references to knitting and crafting, references to the ‘sweater curse’ , post season Jackson domesticity, no description of the reader beyond her hobby. Notes: This is just a cosy autumnal piece of fluff to ease back into the fandom a bit. I’ve been struggling with writing and my place in the fandom bit recently but I wanted to take part in @jolapeno and @goodwithcheese ‘s jolabrew with cheese autumn challenge and I’ve recently been crafting a bit and trying knitting and crochet so couldn’t resist this silly little idea,

You used to love autumn. You thought it would be your favourite season forever. You were intoxicated by the foliage in all its glorious shades of red and mustard yellow, even the browns seemed richer then. You remember jumping through leaves in your childhood, a mug of hot chocolate waiting when you got home.

That was Before though.

Before the colour red reminded you of blood rather than leave. It was before the dark meant risk, meant the chance of an infected hiding away and a rational fear of death.

After the outbreak, all of the moments you clung to, the memories you used to savour, it all felt so pointless in this new world where death was always so close, always a shadow around you.

It’s different here though.

Jackson is like something out of a postcard. It’s simultaneously stuck in another time and fully adapted to the outbreak and the need for security.

You sit on the rocking chair on the porch, hands occupied by knitting needles as you try and turn what was once a too small jumper into something useable for you, or Joel, or Ellie. You’re thinking a scarf maybe for Ellie, as the weather turns more, perhaps even a matching hat if you can salvage enough, or remember how to make one.

“Whatcha makin’?” Joel asks, one arm casually leaning against the wooden jamb of the porch. Sometimes he seems to appear from nowhere and you take in his appearance, eyes slightly tired from patrol but still bright and there’s a small smile on his face as he takes in what you’re up to.

“Not sure yet. It was a sweater before I frogged it, could be good for a scarf or hat, maybe even socks if I can … I don’t know if I can make those.” Before Jackson, it had been a while since you picked up a pair of knitting needles or a crochet hook, or even a decent skein of wool but now you can finally indulge in the hobby again. Back in Boston, you can hardly imagine how many ration cards this would have gone for.

“You’ll figure it out, you always do.” Joel says with a smile.

You remember you used to make Tommy, Tess and Joel whatever you could from scraps of wool or ragged jumpers whenever possible. Your proudest accomplishment was a patchwork blanket over several months for winters in Boston. There was no heating in the apartments and it could get cold.

Now you’ve made a number of sweaters in varying levels of success, for the first the arms were so long in you had to start again, but you’ve also made a scarf and an acceptable number of hats - the latter of which you’ve proudly given to Ellie and Joel.

It feels domestic, normal even. Jackson is just different.

“How was patrol?” you ask.

“Tommy and I went up to the lookout, there were a few infected but-” Joel shrugs and runs a hand through his hair in a motion that still turns to your bones to jelly every single time. “It was fine.“

“Good.”

You take a moment to drink in Joel’s appearance. He looks better here. His clothes fit again, his eyes are brighter. There’s part of you that can’t believe either of you are here now, that he came back. That either of them did.

When you all left Boston, you noticed the way he made sure you and Ellie had supplies, had food when it was in short supply. The closer you’d got to Jackson, the more you’d noticed how he started using a tighter notch on his belt, so you tried to share more with him, make it subtle so he didn’t catch on to your intentions either.

He had taken Ellie on from Jackson alone, insisted he’d only be a couple of weeks, but he’d asked you to stay. There was an unspoken promise to wait for him to come back. Two weeks turned into a month and you’d begged Tommy to send a group to find him and Ellie, you’d begged the town meeting every week but they said no.

Tommy thought Joel was dead, you realised. Him and Maria were trying to subtly prepare you, to help you build a life in Jackson of your own. You knew they were alive though, you just knew it.

After a while, you weren’t so sure. You just weren’t sure what it would mean if they didn’t. Your life was in stasis, waiting for an answer that might never come.

The day Joel came back with Ellie, you’d hugged them both before joking that they stank and tried to wipe away your tears when neither was looking.

That was months ago and now the three of you are settled into Jackson, almost. There are secrets between them about the time they went to Salt Lake City, but they’re here. They’re safe. There’s time for that later.

Hey,” Joel says, “you want to get lunch at the hall?”

“Sure.” You place your wool and knitting inside the hallway of your, Joel and Ellie’s home and walk down the porch to meet him.

The two of you stroll down the street towards the main town hall and dining area. It’s cool, crisp and the sound of leaves crunching under your boots is a balm. Joel’s hand is tantalising close to yours, skimming your fingers as the two of you move in tandem.

“Weather’s turning, we’ll need warmer clothes. I think the stuff I made for Tommy and Maria’s baby went down well.” You pause. “Think I could get a sweater for Ellie and new socks for you outta that.”

“Huh?”

“The wool - you asked what I was making.”

“Oh, right.”

“Seth asked if i can make him a sweater. This wool is for you and Ellie though, if you come across anything on patrol, could you- ”

‘Sure.“

Joel pauses, he’s wearing the expression you’ve noticed whenever he wants to say something but he’s not sure. A slight frown, one brow lowered, concentration on his face.

“Is everything okay?”

“Sure.”

“Joel, I know that face.”

“Seth asked if you can make him a sweater.”

“For trades, Joel, could be useful. I think he mentioned a certain bottle of wine that I’ve been eyeing up.”

“Okay.”

“What is it?”

“You’ve made me some lovely things, darlin’, and I truly appreciate the hat, but I -I know it sounds selfish, but I -”

“You want a sweater,” you say in realisation. You should have known, the last time you knitted a jumper you couldn’t help but notice how Joel had watched you doing it.

“I mean, not necessarily. It just feels like half the town has sweaters you’ve knitted ‘cept -”

“You.”

“It’s stupid, I’m sorry.”

“No. No, it’s not. It’s just, I can’t make you a sweater, Joel.”

“You can’t make me a sweater?” Joel asks.

You nod solemnly. “Honestly, I would, but I really can’t.”

“Well, why not?“

“Sweater curse.”

“Sweater curse?”

“Sweater curse.”

The two of you reach the dining hall and you kiss Joel lightly on the cheek before you open the door. “We’re okay, right?”

“Course we are,” he says firmly, squeezing your hand and putting an arm around you. “Sweater curse?” you hear him mumble to himself.

You should elaborate, explain things but in all honesty this is a moment you’ve dreaded. It’s as close to defining your relationship as you and Joel have come in some time. Mostly, the two of you are together and you’re exclusive and that’s enough. There’s no need to put any firmer labels on things than that because the two of you just work.

By the time the two of you have selected your lunch and are sitting at the table.

Tommy’s wearing a sweater you’ve made. Joel scowls for a second.

“What the fuck is a sweater curse?”

Tommy bursts out laughing.

“Rally?” He laughs, raising an eyebrow at you.

“I’m not messing with that shit. Not in this world.”

“This world?”

“There are people essentially infected by a mushroom, Joel, I will play ball with any superstitions I need to.”

“That sounds sensible actually,” Tommy says thoughtfully. “So … the sweater curse, huh?”

“How do you know about the sweater curse?” Joel asks.

“Dated someone into crochet some time back.”

“You dated someone … Jesus, Tommy. So what is it?”

“Well you know if you give someone you’re dating a homemade sweater, the curse is you’ll break up.”

”Oh.”

Joel scrutinises you and you feel your face heating. “It’s an old wives’ tale, but I - I would rather not chance it.”

“I’m not goin’ anywhere.”

“I know, I know. It’s just I know someone who did make their girlfriend a sweater and then she broke up with them. Do you remember Tamsin back in the QZ?“

“Tamsin was a smuggler and dating a woman in FEDRA, it was doomed before the sweater,” Tommy says.

“Nonetheless.”

“But okay, if you’re really worried, I get it,” Tommy says, earning a scowl from Joel.

“It’s just an urban legend, baby,” Joel says.

“That might be true, but with you? Nope, I don’t want to risk it.”

“I’m not goin’ anywhere,” he repeats calmly, looking into your eyes and squeezing a knee as he slightly moves you so you’re both facing each other. The distractions of Tommy and the dining hall melt away. It’s like a balm over your body, the fact that Joel is here with you, that he still wants to be with you. The connection between the two of you runs deep and it’s certainly not always run smoothly. This town has been a true second chance for the two of you to achieve something close to normal, and maybe, you realise, Joel can see that.

“You go on patrol, Joel, it’s not as simple as that.”

Tommy looks away and Joel swallows. You watch how he tries to work through his answer, lips slightly pursed as he ponders the rich approach. There’s a freckle on his neck, one that whenever you see it instantly transports you to nights with him and moments between the sheets. You’ve catalogued every freckle, every mark, every scar now.

“I won’t push you on this,” he says quietly. “The gloves and hats are real nice.”

You smile softly, kissing him on the cheek before turning your attention back to your food. The water jug is empty so you decide to go and get a refill.

As you walk away, you can hear Tommy and Joel’s voices still.

“Now I think about it, there’s a way around the curse anyway,” Tommy says quietly, clearly in the hopes you won’t hear them. The years together have led to your hearing becoming attuned to them, to Joel’s voice in particular. You could pick him out of any crowd.

“Oh yeah?” There’s a lightness in Joel’s voice now, that slight teasing edge you love.

“Marry her. That’s the workaround. Honest.”

Joel chuckles. “For a sweater? Can’t marry her for a sweater. That ain’t right.”

“You said you were going to marry her anyway, Joel. Isn’t a sweater just a bonus?”

“Tommy!”

“I’m just sayin’, you said you had a plan.”

“I do and shut up, will you? She’ll hear.”

You freeze momentarily. Joel’s talked about marriage with you to Tommy? You take a deep breath before returning to the table.

“Is it true?” Joel asks in a whisper to you. “I know you heard Tommy and me.”

“Reckon I could ask the same question.”

Joel swallows. “Guess you’ll have to wait and find out.”

“Same.” You pause and smile mischievously, “Say it was true, I take it you have a colour preference for a sweater then, Joel?”

Tag List

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[murdrdocs]

I've been thinking non stop about Mike liking Abby's new daycare teacher but is too shy to do anything so Abby just casually mentions that her big brother has a crush on you and is doing weird things like checking his hair and only wearing the same pants two days in a row instead of four. So when u spill that Abby told u he doesn't know whether to be mad at her or not bc if ur wasn't for her he would have a date

I LOVEE THESE TYPES OF THINGS GN! READER

you’re sweet, patient, professional while managing to slip in some casualness to the conversations that you and mike have (short and cordial always) that make him feel like you’re more of an acquaintance and not just someone he indirectly pays.

you’re young, around his age he assumes, and he confirms his assumptions when he’s questioning abby.

“your, uh, new teacher,” he starts as he’s finishing up dinner (spaghetti again).

abby hums from behind him. “what about them?” mike turns to glance at his sister who sits on the counter, her feet thudding against the cheap cabinets with the way she kicks them.

he turns back to the stove, shrugging and scratching at his ear. “nothing i was just wondering about them. like … are they … cool?”

and mike is so glad that abby has always been the more talkative one out of the two of them because she’s immediately thrusting herself into an analysis of your quirks and how you really care about the children.

long story short, abby likes you just as much as mike does. even more, actually.

she’s always running to hug you when mike drops her off and picks her up, and he distantly wishes he could do the same. he thinks he’s playing it cool, sending you tight lipped smiles and waves that are a little too disjointed.

but abby is more perceptive than he thinks.

each time he tells himself he’s going to have an actual conversation with you. maybe mention the band tee you wear on a casual friday or ask about the song you were humming before he’d arrived. there’s intentions for him to get to know you and eventually ask you out.

but he backs out each time.

leaving abby to play matchmaker.

when mike comes in one thursday afternoon, hoodie soaked from the thunderstorm outside, he greets you and notices that your smile is a little more bashful than usual. abby is running around with her friends inside, playing an intense game of indoor freeze tag, and mike is trying to get her attention but you stop him.

“they can play for a while longer. i couldn’t let both of you go out in that storm.”

he looks out the window and notices that somehow, it’d gotten stronger.

“uh, do you want something hot to drink? hot chocolate? tea? coffee?” you sound shy, maybe, but mike can't figure out why.

he's just grateful for a chance to spend time alone with you.

“coffee would be great, actually.”

you and mike end up in the kitchen of the small cafeteria, each drinking your respective drinks in silence, until you speak.

“um, i hope i’m not overstepping.” mikes ears perk up because that’s never a good start. “but abby told me that you have a crush on me. is that true?”

fucking abby.

his ears redden immediately, head dropping as he considers how to play this. but before he can even decide, you’re speaking again.

“because if so, i just want to let you know that i feel the same.”

he lifts his head too quick, a little bit of his coffee spilling out of the loaned mug with the movement. he doesn’t care about that, though, at least not immediately. instead, he focuses on you. he searches your face for a joking smile, maybe a little bit of mischief in your eyes. but there’s nothing but honesty in them.

he takes the plunge.

“would you wanna do something … sometime?” not very descriptive but you smile at him anyway.

“i would love to.”

god bless abby.

[moonstruckme]

Ik you're probably busy rn and you don't have to write this ir you don't wanna-

So remus with. Sensitive reader? Like i, personally, get teary any time someone yells at me or is angry ot condescending and i feel like even though Remus is th sweetest person ever when it comes to scolding, being reprimanded by my favourite person would so make me cry.

And we all know that Remus can get abit hot headed around the full moon so maybe smth along hurt/comfort w that ❤️

Thank you for requesting lovely <3

cw: weed, mention of vomit (no description of any kind, just a brief reference)

Remus Lupin x fem!reader ♡ 755 words

You steal the blunt from between Remus’ lips, holding out your bag of crisps as a trade. 

He accepts, side-eyeing you in a way you choose to interpret as playful. Although you know the days leading up to the full moon are hell for Remus, neither of you mind this part so much. You’d prepared last weekend, stocking your shared flat with lavish quantities of chocolate and weed which you allow yourself to sample as payment for your efforts and general good-girlfriend standing. You think you’ve done a decent job; your boyfriend is lax on the couch next to you, the space between his brows wonderfully smooth and free of the wrinkles that accrue there when he’s having one of his migraines. 

“Alright, you’re done after that,” he says as you inhale.

“What?” You let your mouth drop open in faux indignation, a giggle building in your chest. “No fair.” 

“Mhm.” He crunches noisily on a crisp, mindless of your pouting. “You’ve had enough, dove.” 

“Fine."

He leans forward for the blunt and you hold it for him as wraps his lips around it, exhaling the smoke with an insouciant expertise. He reaches forward to take it from between your fingers, but you move quickly, leaning away from his reach to take a swift hit. You imagine the smoke curling and winding in your lungs as you suck in a great breath. You blow it out the corner of your mouth, your lips twisting into a grin. 

Remus isn’t smiling. 

“Are you serious?”

His tone is incredulous, and your giggly high fades as you realize he’s not joking. 

“I just said you’ve had enough,” he fumes, snatching the blunt from you and squashing it into the ashtray on the coffee table. “Are you trying to green out? Because I’m not in the mood to clean up your vomit.”

Your mouth has gone dry. “I’m sorry,” you whisper. 

Remus huffs, closing his eyes and tilting his head towards the ceiling. Your face burns. He’s exhausted with you.

“Why would you do that?” he asks, and though his tone has cooled slightly, the exasperation is almost worse.

“I don’t know,” you say. Your voice comes out squeaky and wrong. “I’m really sorry.” 

He looks over at you, some of the storminess clearing from his expression. 

“I thought we were playing, I—I wasn’t trying to—“ You take a shuddering breath, trying to keep the wetness in your eyes from escaping. “I won’t throw up, I promise.” 

“Hey.” He sounds almost confused, but it morphs quickly into alarm when you blink and a tear skids down your face. “Hey, don’t cry.” 

“I’m sorry.” You push your fingertips into your eyes as if you can forcibly dam the flow. Your skin is hot to the touch. “I’m not trying to.” 

“Dove, come on.” Remus’ hands encircle your wrists. He pulls them towards him. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to be so harsh.” 

“No, you’re right.” Your voice quavers. “I wasn’t taking you seriously.” 

“I didn’t need to be stern with you,” he says, tone firm but soft as he raises your hands to his lips, brushing a kiss across your knuckles. “It was a misunderstanding. I shouldn’t have gone off on you like that.” 

You press your lips together, unsure how to respond but resolute on stopping your tears. 

Remus frowns. He sets your hands down carefully, using his thumbs to soothe over the hot tracks on your cheeks. 

“Sirius always says I get bitchy this time of the month,” he murmurs. A little laugh startles out of you, and he grins. You get the sense that was his aim. “Thank you for dealing with me when I get like this.” He kisses the tip of your nose. “I know you don’t have to, and I appreciate it. I’ll try to keep a better leash on my temper.” 

“I always want to deal with you,” you laugh, following it with a sniffle. “I think I need to keep a better leash on my delicate sensibilities.” 

“I love your sensibilities,” Remus argues. He mushes your face affectionately between his hands. “I’m sorry for scolding you, sweetheart. Do you feel sick?” 

You take hasty stock of yourself. You’ve definitely reached the point just past too much, but you’ll be okay. “Nope,” you report back happily. “But I do feel like I’d like some snacks, please.” 

Remus passes you the bag of crisps, then some chocolates, then a tin of biscuits. And you feast on kisses for the rest of the night.

[strawbeerossi]

Let Me Love You

Pairing: Fem!Reader x Unsub!Spencer Reid

Description: You've always thought Spencer was a sweet guy. What happens when he shows up to your apartment unprompted?

Content/Warnings: Dubcon, mention of stalking, oral (f rec), some crying, obsessive!Spencer, perv!Spencer, mentions of past panty theft.

Word Count: 1.5K

Kinktober Day Twenty: Dacryphilia

Navigation || Kinktober Masterlist || AO3

Hearing a knock on your front door at ten in the evening pulled you out of your movie, deciding on having a ‘Scream’ marathon with the rumors swirling about a seventh and final film coming out. You didn’t think anything of it, pushing yourself to stand before heading to look out the peephole. 

You were met with Spencer Reid, one of your neighbors standing with his hands in his pockets while glancing around the hallway. The both of you had talked a few times, however it wasn’t enough to build up a friendship to the point he could feel comfortable randomly showing up though. 

“Spencer?” The sound of the door unlocking inside had him letting out a soft breath of relief. He couldn’t kick down a door like Derek so that idea was out. “Hey, I was stopping by to talk to you about something important. Do you mind if I come in?” You were letting your shoulders bounce. Why not? You stepped out of his way before gently closing the door behind him. “What did you need to talk about?” You asked while sitting back down on your couch with a smile, hand reaching for your mug of hot chocolate. 

“I know it’s none of my business but I was worried about you. I noticed you’ve had a new guy in the area, he just had a sketchy look about him. He already knew it was your ex boyfriend, doing his research via Penelope as she unknowingly helped Spencer fuel a delusional relationship between himself and his neighbor. Hey, if she didn’t like him, then why did she always talk to him when she saw him? She would bring him coffee sometimes or share any left over treats she’d made the night before. 

Nobody was that friendly unless they were interested. 

“You mean Josh? Oh, Spence..” Spence. The nickname was like music to his ears. She said it so sweetly, her words like honey. “He’s just a friend. I know it seems shady how late he leaves but I promise it’s nothing. You have nothing to worry about.” He knew that he didn’t. Spencer wasn’t intimidated in the slightest. “I just worry about you, you know?” He spoke while heading over to cup your cheeks. It had you a bit stunned, you never had him get this close before. Your heart was threatening to beat out of your chest as you gently pushed him away. “You should get going.”

It wasn’t that you weren’t interested, you just didn’t like this newfound confidence and forwardness towards you. “No, I’m not going anywhere.” His voice was low as he was moving to rest his hand against the couch as you were quickly leaning back. “Just.. I don’t know why you fight it, you know? We have a connection. A special one.” 

“I-I don’t know if I’ve given you any false intentions but I’m not-” You’d been cut off by the frustrated huff coming from Spencer’s lips. “Just let me love you, bunny. You won’t even need Josh to come around here anymore. You have me. Consider Josh taken care of. He isn't gonna come bother us at all, I promise.” The words had your eyes brimming with tears. “What are you talking about?!” You’d asked, trying to push him back again although this time he was gripping both of your hands.

“Come here.” He murmured, now closing the gap to let his lips smear against yours. You were trying to hold back from returning the kiss, yet your body was betraying everything your brain was yelling at you not to do. He’d let go of your hands as he pulled away slightly, pressing a few kisses across your jaw before moving to your neck. 

“See? No woman lets a guy kiss their skin if they aren’t interested. Do you believe me? You want me just as bad as I want you.” He spoke while bringing his hands down to grip your hips. The force had you squeezing your eyes shut. “Let’s move this to your room. Don’t worry, I know where it is.” He’d paused your movie before lifting you in his arms, your arms draping around his shoulders quickly while you were looking around. “H-how do you know where my room is?” It was a dumb question, making Spencer laugh. “The key under the mat trick is so old. You’re lucky that I have the key, after all, a random person could come in at any time if they wanted.” 

He’s been inside your apartment. 

Your brain was screaming at you to use your bedside lamp to smash over his head once you’d made it into your bedroom, however your stunned state had you as stiff as a board, body being tossed on the mattress as you watched the male with wide eyes. “I’ll take care of you. Let me prove it, bunny. Please? Let me show you that I can do what Josh can’t.”

You didn’t make an effort to stop him or shove him away, instead letting him tug the fuzzy Halloween themed sleep pants down your legs. “These are so cute, by the way. I really love the ones you have for Christmas though. The one with the reindeer on them.” He clarified while he was tossing your pants somewhere behind him. He looked over your clothed pussy, a soft sigh of content leaving his lips. “These are my favorite pair. I’ve always wanted them but you wear them every time I get a chance to swing by.”

He’s been stealing your panties. That is where they are all going, the washing machine hasn’t been eating them like you thought.

The thought of him stealing your panties was enough to make your eyes well up with tears. What if this man tried to kill you? You didn’t see him doing it but you also didn’t expect for him to break into your apartment and steal intimate articles of clothing from you either.

“Oh, bunny. You look so beautiful when you cry.” He gushed, one hand wiping the tears escaping your eyes. The sight of tears in your eyes had his cock swelling in his pants. He could just imagine making you cry as he fucked you deep into your mattress, you sobbing from overstimulation and the need for more. He didn’t skip a beat as his hands were going to the waistband of your panties now.

“Here we go.” He spoke as he was pulling the red underwear down your thighs with a soft hum, lips pursing as he blew cold air on your glistening cunt. Your body worked against you in this case, pussy being wet and ready for what was to come after the kiss you’d shared in the living room. He didn’t waste time as he leaned down, lips pressing sloppy kisses to your inner thighs. His tongue was licking a stripe up your slick folds, taking in your essence while groaning lowly. So much better than he could’ve ever imagined. Your hand was moving to tangle in his hair, head tilting back against your pillow as his tongue was licking your skin. His mouth had soon after wrapped around your throbbing clit that was begging to be touched, his tongue lapping over it before he was hollowing his cheeks and suckling.

“Oh,” You moaned while letting your eyes flutter shut, hand shoving his face into your cunt more once Spencer was diving in. He ate you like you were the last meal he’d had, drinking up every ounce of arousal that you had flooded his tongue with. “I told you,” He spoke, two fingers delving into your pussy as he was curling them almost immediately in an effort to brush against the button inside of you that you so desperately needed him to find. “You like this, don’t you? Such a dirty girl, letting your neighbor tongue-fuck your pussy.” He growled, a shiver going through your body as you were thinking about the situation now. 

However every ounce of thought was out the window as his fingers prodded against the sweet spot he was in search of. “Fuck,” You whined while letting your hips roll against the thrusts of his fingers. Your slick was running down his hand now, a third finger being added to give you a pleasurable stretch as his tongue was lapping and sucking at your throbbing clit. “I’m gonna cum!” Your nails were digging into his scalp, shoving his face more against your cunt even if it did nothing in the long run. 

As his tongue was greedily licking and sucking your clit, it wasn’t long until you were letting your back arch with a moan of pleasure. You could swear that you saw stars as you were orgasming on his tongue, the male not skipping a beat to lick up your mess while sighing dreamily. 

“See bunny? Didn’t you like that? I know exactly what you like.” He spoke while pushing himself to sit up on his knees.

“Why don’t we keep this going, hmm?”

[loveanton]

memories | lee anton

ꕤ DESCRIPTION:  the weather is finally starting to warm up and so to kick off the start of your summer vacation, your boyfriend plans a cute picnic date only for his friends to crash it…

❥ 𝑝𝑎𝑖𝑟𝑖𝑛𝑔: boyfriend!anton x f!reader

❥ 𝑤𝑜𝑟𝑑 𝑐𝑜𝑢𝑛𝑡: 2.6k

⟶ 𝑤𝑎𝑟𝑛𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑠: kisses, and light teasing not much i think but pls let me know if i missed anything

⏤ 𝑎/n: another self indulgent piece hehe ^-^

“It's so freaking hot, oh my gosh,” you complain, wiping the sweat from your brow. Anton looks up from where he’s spreading out the picnic blanket, a playful smile dancing on his lips.

“You’re cute when you pout like that,” he teases, his eyes twinkling. You stick your tongue out at him, but can’t help the blush that creeps up your cheeks.

“Am not,” you mutter, though your expression softens as you watch him work.

Anton chuckles and reaches up, grabbing your hand to pull you down onto the blanket beside him. “Come on, sit with me,” he says, wrapping an arm around your waist as you settle down. He reaches for the picnic basket and begins to unpack it, revealing an array of your favorite snacks.

Your eyes widen in surprise. “You remembered all my favorites,” you say, your voice filled with awe. “Even the chocolate-covered strawberries?”

“Of course,” Anton replies, his smile growing. “I know how picky you are, so I wanted to make sure everything was perfect.”

You feel a warm rush of affection for him, leaning in to plant a soft kiss on his cheek. “You’re the best, you know that?”

“I try,” he says with a wink. “Besides, I love seeing you happy.”

You begin to munch on the snacks, chatting about your plans for the summer. “I can’t wait to plan more cute dates like this,” you say, popping a grape into your mouth. “Maybe we could go hiking, or have a movie night under the stars.”

Anton’s expression falters for a moment, and you notice the brief flicker of worry in his eyes. “What’s wrong?” you ask, your voice tinged with concern.

He sighs, his shoulders slumping slightly. “I’m going on tour for most of the summer,” he admits. “I’m going to miss you so much.”

Your heart sinks at his words, and you feel a lump form in your throat. “Oh,” you say softly, looking down at the half-eaten strawberry in your hand. “I didn’t realize it was going to be that long.”

He reaches out, gently lifting your chin so you meet his gaze. “Hey, don’t be upset,” he says, his voice soothing. “I promise I’ll always make time for you. We’ll have video calls, and I’ll send you pictures from every city. It’ll be like you’re with me.”

You nod, blinking back the tears that threaten to spill over. “I know. I’m just going to miss you, that’s all.”

“I’ll miss you too,” he says, pulling you into a tight hug. “But think of all the stories we’ll have to share when I get back. And in the meantime, we’ll make the most of every moment we have together.”

You smile against his shoulder, feeling a sense of comfort in his words. “Okay,” you say, pulling back slightly to look at him. “But you better not forget to call me every day.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he promises, kissing your forehead. “Now, let’s enjoy this picnic. We’ve got the whole day ahead of us.”

You lie back on the blanket with Anton, his arm wrapped securely around you as you both gaze up at the sky. The clouds drift lazily, forming and reforming into various shapes. You reach into the basket, pulling out a handful of cherries, and begin to feed them to Anton one by one.

“Look at that one,” you say, pointing to a fluffy cloud above. “It looks like a bunny.”

Anton chuckles, chewing thoughtfully on a cherry. “I see it! And that one over there looks like a dinosaur.”

You squint, trying to see the dinosaur shape he’s pointing out. “Hmm, more like a lopsided giraffe, if you ask me.”

He laughs, the sound warm and familiar. “You’re blind.”

You smile, feeling completely at ease in his arms. You pop another cherry into his mouth, then take one for yourself. As you’re about to eat it, you notice Anton looking at you intently.

“What?” you ask, the cherry hovering just before your lips. “Why are you staring at me like that?”

He doesn’t respond immediately, just smiles softly. Then, he leans in and pecks your lips, his kiss sweet and tender.

“You’re just so beautiful,” he murmurs against your lips. “I can’t help it.”

A blush creeps up your cheeks, and you feel a rush of affection for him. “You’re pretty amazing yourself,” you whisper back, feeling the cherry's sweetness mixing with the warmth of his kiss.

He pulls you closer, his arm tightening around you. “I could stay like this forever,” he says, his voice filled with contentment.

You snuggle into his side, feeling the same. “Me too. Let’s not think about anything else, just this moment.”

As you both continue to point out silly shapes in the clouds, the world around you seems to fade away, leaving only the two of you in your perfect little bubble.

You turn your gaze back to Anton, meeting his eyes. There's a moment of shared understanding, a deep connection that doesn't need words. He leans in again, this time more slowly, giving you the chance to close the distance. His lips capture yours in a kiss that's both gentle and insistent, drawing you into him. You can taste the cherries, their sweetness mingling with the warmth of his breath. The world seems to melt away as you focus on the sensation of his lips moving against yours, his hand gently cradling the back of your head.

When you finally pull away, you’re both breathless, your foreheads resting against each other. “Wow,” you whisper, a shy smile tugging at your lips.

“Wow,” he echoes, his eyes sparkling. He kisses your forehead, then turns his attention to the people around you. “Look at that,” he says, pointing to a little girl wobbling on her bike while her dad steadies her. The mom stands a few feet away, recording the whole scene on her phone.

You watch the family, a warm feeling blooming in your chest. “It’s so sweet,” you say softly. “She’s doing so well.”

Anton nods, a soft smile playing on his lips. “I can’t wait to start a family with you one day,” he says, his voice full of quiet conviction.

Your heart skips a beat, and you turn to look at him, seeing the sincerity in his eyes. “I feel the same way,” you say, squeezing his hand. “I can’t wait to share all of that with you.”

As you both get lost in thoughts of the future, a small figure approaches. A little boy, no older than five, stands before you, tears streaming down his cheeks. “I can’t find my mommy,” he sobs, clutching a small toy in his hand. “I was playing hide and seek with my sister, and now I’m lost.”

Your heart goes out to the boy, and you immediately reach out to him. “Hey there, it’s okay,” you say softly, lifting him into your arms. “We’ll help you find your mommy. What’s your name?”

“Ethan,” he sniffles, wiping his nose with the back of his hand.

“Hi, Ethan. I’m ____, and this is Anton,” you introduce, giving him a reassuring smile. “We’re going to find your mom, okay?”

Anton stands and takes your hand, the three of you forming a little chain. As you walk through the park, you can’t help but feel a pang of something as you hold the boy on your hip, Anton’s hand warm and steady in yours. For a moment, you almost feel like a family, but neither of you says it out loud.

It doesn’t take long to spot a frantic woman scanning the park, her eyes wide with worry. “Ethan!” she cries out as soon as she sees him, rushing over.

“Mommy!” Ethan wiggles out of your arms and runs to her, burying his face in her neck.

The relief on her face is palpable as she hugs him tightly. “Thank you so much,” she says to you and Anton, her voice shaking. “I turned around for one second, and he was gone.”

“It’s no problem,” Anton replies, his tone gentle. “We’re just glad he’s safe.”

As you watch Ethan and his mom walk away, Anton turns to you, his expression thoughtful. “You were great with him,” he says softly. “I think you’re going to be an amazing mom one day.”

Your heart swells at his words, and you smile up at him. “And you’re going to be an incredible dad,” you reply. “How many kids do you think we should have?”

Anton laughs, pulling you back down onto the blanket. “I don’t know, three or four maybe? Enough to keep things interesting.”

You laugh along with him, resting your head on his shoulder. “I like the sound of that. I always imagined having a big family.”

He presses a kiss to your temple. “Me too. I can’t wait to make all those memories with you.”

Just as you lean in to kiss him again, a soccer ball rolls to a stop in front of your blanket. You both look up to find the boys approaching. All six of them. You make eye contact with Seunghan who's smirking, leaving you to believe the ball belongs to him.

Anton groans as he recognizes the culprit. “Oh no,” he mutters, burying his face in your neck, his ears turning red out of embarrassment.

Seunghan arrives first, grinning broadly. “Well, well, what do we have here?” he teases. “Our baby is all grown up and on a romantic picnic. How adorable.”

Before you know it, the rest of the group—Sohee, Wonbin, Eunseok, Sungchan, and Shotaro—are descending upon your blanket, each with varying degrees of amused grins.

“Look at him, all lovey-dovey,” Sohee says, making exaggerated kissy sounds.

Anton groans louder, his face buried deeper in your neck. “Can you guys just go away?” he mutters, trying to sound stern but failing miserably.

“Not a chance,” Eunseok laughs, grabbing a handful of your snacks. “These are ours now.”

Anton shoves Eunseok’s hand away. “Hyung! I bought those for ____, not for you.”

Wonbin plops down on the blanket, making himself comfortable. “Aww, how sweet,” he mocks. “Protecting her snacks. What a gentleman.”

You can't help but laugh at the antics, even though you feel a little sorry for Anton. “It’s fine,” you say, patting Anton’s back. “They can stay.”

Anton lifts his head, his face flushed. “But this was supposed to be our time,” he protests, though there’s no real heat in his words.

“Come on, Anton,” Sungchan says, nudging him. “We’ll be good. Promise.”

“Yeah, we won’t bite,” Shotaro adds with a grin.

Anton sighs, clearly resigned. “Fine, but if you touch the strawberries, you’re dead to me.”

The group laughs and settles down, making themselves at home on your blanket. They start chatting and joking, making the atmosphere lively and fun. Despite the intrusion, you find yourself enjoying their company. They tease Anton mercilessly, but it's all in good fun, and you can see how much they care about him.

“So,” Seunghan says, turning to you. “How are things with this guy?”

You smile, squeezing Anton’s hand. “He’s perfect,” you say simply.

“Aww,” Sungchan coos, making more kissy sounds before scowling. “Look at them, so in love. Makes me sick.”

Anton rolls his eyes, but he’s smiling too. “Yeah, yeah, keep it up, guys. See if I invite you to our wedding.”

The group erupts into laughter, and Anton pulls you closer, pressing a kiss to your temple. “Sorry about them,” he murmurs. “They’re like this all the time.”

You smile, leaning into him. “It’s okay. I like seeing this side of you.”

The teasing continues, but eventually, the conversation shifts to more casual topics. You find yourself talking about your summer plans, their upcoming tour, and reminiscing about past adventures. It’s clear how close they all are, and you feel a warm sense of belonging just being around them.

After a while, Shotaro stands up, stretching. “Alright, lovebirds, we’ll leave you to your date. We’ve got a game to finish.”

The others groan but follow his lead, slowly getting up and saying their goodbyes. “See you later, Anton,” Sohee says with a wink. “Take good care of ____.”

“I always do,” Anton replies, his eyes soft as he looks at you.

Once they’re gone, you and Anton lie back down on the blanket, the park seeming much quieter without the boisterous presence of his bandmates. “Well, that was something,” you say with a laugh.

Anton sighs in relief. “Finally, some peace and quiet.”

You cuddle closer to him, your head resting on his chest. “You know, they’re really great. I can see why you love them.”

“They’re a handful,” he admits, “but yeah, they’re great. It’s just... sometimes I want to keep things just between us.”

“I get that,” you say, tilting your head to look up at him. “But they’re part of who you are, and I love every part of you.”

He smiles down at you, brushing a strand of hair from your face. “I love you,” he says softly, his eyes full of emotion.

“I love you too,” you reply, feeling the sincerity of those words deep in your heart.

You both lie there, content in each other’s arms. 

After a few moments, you sit up, looking around at the park. “You know what? I kind of miss their presence. How about we join them and play a bit of soccer?”

Anton smiles, appreciating your positive attitude. “Are you sure? I don’t mind just laying here with you.”

You hum, “I’m sure. It’ll be fun, let’s do it.”

You both get up and make your way over to where the guys are kicking the ball around. When they see you approaching, they cheer.

“Look who decided to join us!” Sungchan calls out.

“Ready to get your butt kicked, Anton?” Wonbin taunts, laughing.

Anton smirks, grabbing the ball. “We’ll see about that. ____ and I are a team. You guys don’t stand a chance.”

The impromptu soccer match is filled with laughter, playful banter, and a few competitive moments. You find yourself having a great time, running around and kicking the ball with Anton and his friends. Despite their teasing, you can see how much they respect and care for each other.

As the game winds down, you all collapse onto the grass, breathless and happy. Anton lies beside you, his hand finding yours. “Thanks for going along with this,” he says softly. “I know it wasn’t what we planned.”

You squeeze his hand, smiling up at him. “It’s perfect. I love seeing this side of you, and I love spending time with you and your friends.”

He leans in and kisses you, a sweet, lingering kiss that makes your heart flutter. When you pull away, you see the warmth and gratitude in his eyes. “I love you,” he whispers.

“I love you too,” you reply, feeling the sincerity of those words deep in your heart.

As you all lie there on the grass, chatting and laughing, you realize that these are the moments that make life special—the unexpected, the unplanned, the times spent with the people you love. You wouldn’t trade these memories for anything.

[novasintheroom]

123. Desire

♡ Pairing - Vash x Reader

♡ Word count - 1.4k

♡ Warnings - none

♡ Description: Vash slowly realizes that he wants to be yours.

Part of the 150 Bullets drabble series on AO3 (will post there and add link once AO3 is back up)

It comes up first one hot day in the town of Gargantan.

The bag of doughnuts crinkles in your grip as you weave through the morning bustle, heading toward the column of red at the end of the street. Vash knows he’s in trouble as soon as he smells it. You walk up to him, already giving a strange look. “What’s did you get?” You ask.

Vash laughs nervously. He keeps the two bags of doughnuts he already bought behind his back. “Just some bullets!”

You sniff the air. Lean forward and brush his cheeks with your fingertips. It comes away with powdered sugar. “Vash, did you get more doughnuts?”

He feels his stomach clench with guilt and hunger. Looking down, he gives a sheepish smile. “I just…wanted to try that other shop too.”

“Vash,” your mouth works, words forming and dissolving as you think of what to say. You’re fighting a smile. “We agreed we only had enough fun money for one bag of doughnuts.”

“I know.”

“We have three bags of doughnuts now, birdie.”

“I know,” he says again. He pouts, wondering what got into him. He’s usually much better about his money, but, lately, being with you…he feels…he doesn’t know. Like it’s okay to get food again. Even if it hurts the wallet a bit. “Hey, we don’t have to split a doughnut now, though! Look,” he pulls out a chocolate glazed doughnut, then another. “Two for one! BOGO!”

“You’re such a problem,” you groan.

He knows you’re joking. He knows. But something inside him shudders, and he wants to fix it. Make you feel better after his mistake. “Well, I’m your problem.” He says it as a joke. Tests the waters. See if there’s blood in them.

Your smile is genuine as you punch him in the shoulder, hitting the plating of his arm. “Yeah, you are. Heaven help me, but you are. Now give me a doughnut.”

The stirring of crickets in his stomach is the only warning he has of what’s to come. Your problem, he smiles, handing you a jelly-filled doughnut and eating his second with you. He likes the sound of that.

--

He toys with the idea. Handles it around and around in his head like a child with a very delicate antique, so clumsy with his hands but knowing how special it is.

It comes up again.

Nothing goes right all day, and by the end of it, you’re both tired and in a bad mood. Camping out in a buried, derelict ship is the last thing either of you want right now, but the ghost stories will keep the locals away. You set up your sleeping gear nearby. No fire tonight; there’s too many eyes searching for you two.

Vash can feel the breeze blowing through the holes of the ship. Cool, cool air that will turn to ice once the suns fully set. He looks over at you and sees the goosebumps rising on your arms, eyes picking out each individual hair standing on end. Vash chews the inside of his cheek. “Wanna sleep closer?”

It takes a moment for you to register he’s talking. Blinking, you look up. “Hm? What?”

 “Do you want to sleep closer tonight? For warmth, I mean.”

Your eyes flit across his face. You’ve always been a fan of your personal space. Vash isn’t sure you’ll accept. Then, you shrug. “Sure. Why not.”

The day must have really taken it out of you for you to say ‘yes,’ but Vash isn’t complaining. You drag your stuff over to his and set up sluggishly. “I’m mad about what that mayor said to you on the way out,” you say, baring your feelings like you do, always an open book. “He shouldn’t have called you that. Especially after we saved his daughter.”

He doesn’t feel like talking about it, a fresh wound on his heart that will heal anyway. So he hums and lays down. “I’m just glad we got away before they pulled out the whips. That was…weird.”

You laugh and scoot over to his side, and Vash can feel your warmth. “You think they’re into the freaky stuff?”

He laughs with you and shakes his head. He’s about to respond when you curl up next to him and place your head on his shoulder. Mouth drying out, a strange feeling in the back of his throat forms. You press your side shyly closer into his.

“You don’t mind being my pillow for tonight, right?” You mumble it, and he can hear the embarrassment in your tone. This is hard for you.

He clears his throat and says, “Nah, it’s fine. I’m all yours.”

It goes quiet, and Vash wonders if he said the wrong thing. But then your breathing evens out, and he realizes you’re asleep. The day really took it out of you, then. Carefully, he brings his arm around your shoulders and pulls you closer. He doesn’t want you getting cold. “Yeah,” he mumbles, “all yours.”

--

What exactly is it that he wants?

You ask him this on the road. The suns are cresting some cliffs to the side, fall season turning the temperatures just a bit cooler – only just. And he says, “For love and peace to rule.” Typical.

“But what do you want? When love and peace is achieved and everyone’s happy?” You walk ahead of him, minding your steps, toeing an invisible line, kicking pebbles off to the side. “What do you want to be?”

He watches. Your figure curves as you bend over to pick up a white rock, throwing it up in the air and catching it again. You handle it, looking at the tiny crystals within that make it sparkle in the light. A habit of yours, he’s noticed – how you handle everything and everyone carefully, twisting them this way and that to find their hidden facets. You do it with him all the time. You’re doing it now, digging into his psyche, making him wonder about his own desires and wants. His eyes trace the shape of your lips as they purse.

Vash shakes out of his stupor when you glance at him, waiting for an answer. “I’ll probably be some kind of Plant engineer. Keep my sisters safe and healthy.” After all, what else is there for someone like him?

“Do you want to be an artist? An historian? You can’t just be an engineer all the time. What else do you want to be?”

His lips curve up. “I’ll still be with you, right? You’ve got the historian and artist bit down for the both of us.”

You groan and throw the rock away. The sands eat it up instantly, lost once again to the dunes of time. “Without leaning on me, Vash.” You look at him, eyes roving over his face for something he isn’t sure of. “When everything else is stripped away and accomplished, what do you want to be?”

Something in his chest erupts into butterflies. He knows the answer, cheesy as it is. Yours, yours, yours, his heart murmurs. I want to be yours.

--

It comes out in the quiet hours of the night, between dusk and midnight.

Your kisses are slow, sensual. He can’t get enough. The soft sand underneath, the cave overhead, the glow of worms in the distant sky through the mouth. You’re safe. He’s safe. His hands rove your sides, traveling under your shirt to massage the tender skin at your ribs. Your own hands travel from his neck to his stomach, back to his hair, feeling, feeling.

In a pause, a way to catch your breath, you look up at him in the blue gloom and grin. Your eyes are so full of love, twinkling like close stars. “Vash,” you murmur, petting your hand through his hair, tugging at the ends, his growing undercut. Your chests heave together, touching then retracting. Your nails scratch gently behind his ear, and goosebumps hike up his neck. “My Vash.”

It sends a shiver up and down his spine. Yes, this is what it is; this is what he has been searching for. And he should say something like ‘my mayfly,’ but what tumbles out of his kiss-swollen lips is, “Your Vash. Yours.”

Your laugh is deep and happy. He surges forward to catch it, feel it in his mouth as he kisses you again and again. “Yours,” he keeps murmuring, settling it in his own head, his own heart. “All yours. I’m yours.”

This is what he wants to be.

A place to belong. A place in your arms.

Yours.

[incorrectbatfam]

dickie and jason headcanons pretty please

Everyone thinks Tim and Damian are a nightmare to have in a room together, but it's actually Dick and Jason. Tim and Damian still need to work through a thing or two and subconsciously pull their punches because of that, but Dick and Jason have no such thing. They've been siblings the longest and at this point it's an undisputed fact that they love each other, so there's zero limit to them being absolute menaces

They've been in a Toy Blast standoff since last year. Dick keeps speedrunning the levels and Jason keeps deleting the app from Dick's phone until he catches up

The bathroom switch in the Bludhaven apartment is outside the bathroom. Barbara kept telling Dick to get it changed and he kept procrastinating, so when Jason broke in and turned the lights off in the middle of Dick's shower, all Babs said from the other room was "Told you so"

Jason: "Alfred, tell Dick to quit breathing over my shoulder"

Dick: "Tell Jason to quit blocking the screen with his big helmet"

Alfred: "Sort it out yourselves, this is not in my job description"

Dick wrestled Jason for an Oreo but also gave him the comfier sleeping bag in the span of five minutes while they were on a stakeout

Jason is absolutely the sibling that chases Dick around the house with a knife for fun when Bruce and Alfred aren't around

Dick: "Get out of my room"

Jason, lurking outside the windowsill: "I'm not in your room"

Dick's outfits aren't truly considered nice until they pass the Jason Test, which is getting a "meh" instead of "you look like you were drawn by a fourth grader"

To brag that he got the last slice of pizza, Jason slapped it across Dick's face

The most accurate ruler in the world is the one they use to split the last candy bar (but Dick secretly lets Jason have an extra millimeter)

And the most accurate measuring cup is the one they divide the last of the apple juice with (though Jason generously gives Dick a few drops more)

The tension is palpable—even the Subway guy cutting their sandwich can feel it

Alfred sends them out to do yard work and they start sword-fighting with increasingly bigger sticks until Dick grabs a rake and Jason whips out the All-Blades

Jason: "I was here first!"

Dick: "I was born first!"

Jason: "I was adopted first!"

Dick has two Instagram accounts—Dick Grayson and Nightwing. Jason has three—Jason Todd, Red Hood, and the verified Nightwing

When the Cave is colder than usual, Jason brings Dick his favorite peppermint hot chocolate but always takes the first sip

Together they stole the bat-plane, flew to Lebanon for food, received a hefty fine after nearly colliding with a fighter jet, got a huge scratch on the side, paid someone under the table to fix it, and put it back where they found it in the span of Bruce debriefing the Justice League

Dick will go through Jason's leftovers, pick out what he likes, and leave the rest. Later he'll hear Jason walk out of the kitchen shouting "Who the FUCK took the shrimp out of my shrimp fried rice?!"

When they were kids Jason's bedtime was half an hour later than Dick's. Dick still has beef with Bruce about that

Dick is Player 1. Jason is Player 6 because the first time they played he grabbed a random controller from a box of dozen

Jason: "Help me bury this body"

Dick: "Sure"

Jason: "Also I need to delete all record of this guy's existence"

Dick: "Will do"

Jason: "And can you get me a drink?"

Dick: "Get it yourself"

When he first arrived, Jason was resistant to the idea of having an older sibling until he realized he has Younger Brother Privilege

Dick hides the remote with a sword swallowing trick and Jason hates it

They use texts for personal conversations, WhatsApp for vigilante business, and Snapchat for unhinged memery. It's like talking to 3 separate people

They also have their own text abbrevation: DTB (Don't tell Bruce)

They don't apologize, they just sulk in their rooms for a couple hours until Alfred calls them down for dinner and they forget all about it

Goon: "Who's that blue fella? Youse was fightin' real loud"

Jason: "Nightwing. He just pisses me off sometimes"

Goon: "I can take care of him"

Jason, lighting a cigarette: "Go ahead, I'll be here when you get your ass handed to you"

[slvtforfiction]

Short imagine + Headcanons for Schlatt :)

☆ Schlatt X Reader

☆ Headcanons

☆ Fluff/suggestive

☆ If you are going to request: please check at the pinned post if requests are open,otherwise I will delete your requests which I have already been doing

☆ Creds to @cafekitsune for dividers :)

Masterlist | Pinned post

☆ Schlatt is going to announce your relationship by posting a photo of you two cuddling (you cuddling him because he doesn’t want to seam “weak”) and saying something like “I’ve bagged a woman”

☆ Schlatt is honestly so sweet off camera,the different personas really making a switch. Like if you came onto his stream he would make constant jokes about you but if he’s not streaming let’s be honest,he cuddling up to your chest.

“Ignore that it was a moment of weakness chat.” He’d say if you came into stream

☆ “Guys I hate Valentine’s Day it’s all bullshit-“ Buys you roses,chocolate and a small necklace for you

☆ If you ever joined one of his streams and got hate in dms,twitter etc he would definitely post something on twitter like ; “I love my girl and if you don’t fuck off,fucking idiots hating on someone you don’t know,get a life.”

☆ “Schlatt come to bed it’s late” You know what he would do? Mock the shit out of you before coming to bed to cuddle with his little girl ; “Awh does baby want some hugs?” || “Awh can you not sleep without me?”

☆ Honestly I feel like he wouldn’t actually go too far with his jokes, he knows the limits and boundaries of what he can say/joke about and wouldn’t cross them to save himself.

☆ Honestly a sweetheart but tell him that and he’s immediately a tough guy ;

*You and schlatt laying in bed together with schlatt on your chest*

“You’re such a pretty boy.”

“Don’t push it.”

☆ And adding to that,he secretly loves every nickname you have for him because he knows that it’s special to him and you don’t share that nickname with anyone else.

☆ The dominant one in the relationship,massively,not just in bed but all around the house he’s a very masculine presence. Need help with something? He’s on it immediately. Need help getting off?he’s going down.

☆ Will constantly let you have your way with his hair,though he would sit there and complain in actuality he has all the time in the world for you and so if you want to fiddle with his hair,put it in small pony tails etc. go ahead.

☆ If you needed it he would definitely help you with more feminine typical things such as hair,makeup and nails. (Disclaimer: I’m not saying these are feminine things I’m just saying it’s feminine typical!)

☆ If you are on your period he’s immediately by your side. “What do you want? Chocolate,hot water bottle?” || “I heard that *insert thing* helps”.

☆ He’s not letting anyone talk to you the way he talks to you,at all. If someone calls you a nickname he uses he’s making his presence known in the most intimidating way. Jealousy.

☆ He has the best music taste,long road trip? Turn that shit up !! Definitely the type of person to listen to any genre of music,as long as he likes the tune,he doesn’t care.

☆ Would help you with stream/youtube set ups. Would buy you lights/leds/cute little toys he’s found etc. Just to add a bit of himself to your set up.

“Babe I got you some more Leds for your room!”

“Awh you didn’t have to,thank you.”

☆ Would definitely brag about you to his friends. Ted has heard every single positive description of you along with multiple pictures of you whilst he brags about how pretty you are.

☆ Would absolutely spoil you. You know when you mentioned 3 months ago that you wanted a new pair of converse in that new colour you saw? They’re now at your door

“Jay you have to stop buying me things!”

“You’re my girlfriend,I’ll do whatever I want.”

☆ Would definitely call it weakness whenever he showed affection on stream. He would joke about it enough on stream but the moment he’s off camera he’s showering you with affection and praise.

“Chat you didn’t see that,that was weakness.”

☆ “Schlatt + His girlfriend,cute moments!” They come up more regularly on your YouTube feed than Schlatt himself.

☆ He isn’t a huge fan of PDA but he will wrap a light hand around your waist,kiss your forehead etc. he wouldn’t do any big gestures in public.

[januaryembrs]

Hi! May I have a hot chocolate with Aaron Hotchner and a splash of angst please?

OVERPROTECTIVE | Aaron Hotchner x Reader

description: keeping your relationship with your boss is difficult when he gets so damn overprotective

length: 2.5k (Em doesn't know how to go small on things)

warnings: mention of a knife? mention of feeling sick? mention of a wound?

“Sit down, Agent,” His voice was a growl that made you stop loading up your gun, Emily and Derek freezing in their seats to witness the catfight when they caught the heated glare exchanged between the two of you. Your fingers paused on the cartridge, clicking it into the ammunition vault before switching your glock onto the safety, turning to face your boyfriend with a sneer on your face. 

“Agent?” You tested the water with a raised brow, seeing if he would double down with his attitude once he seemed to have realised he had crossed some sort of line with his words. 

“Prentiss and Morgan are going after the suspect, I want you here with Reid mapping out the geographical profile,” He ordered his teams, though you were quick to catch how he couldn’t meet your eyes as he turned to Dave, his fingers fixing his cuffs the way he did when he was thinking about something, “Dave, I want you with JJ at hostage negotiation, he still has the girls and might not be willing to give them up so easily-”

“Surely we’d be more use in the field, I mean, we’ve gotten pretty much everything out of the profile that we can.” Reid tried to point out, only for Hotch to turn to him with a scathing frown. 

“Is there something wrong with the orders I’ve given, Reid?” Aaron asked, his tone particularly cold, and Spencer was quick to look flustered, ever the teachers pet who loathed being told off. 

“N-no I just thought,” He spluttered, quickly packing up his files as Hotch gave him a sharp look, “We’ll stay here, it’s fine,” 

Your Unit Chief barely acknowledged him as he huffed, turning and heading for his office, “Wheels up in ten,” 

But you weren’t going to let him slip away that easily, especially not with an attitude like that. 

“Baby girl, think about what you’re doing here,” Morgan tried to call as you paced after him, your expression ruthless as you stalked behind the man, “Starting a fight with the boss is not going to win you any favours, sweetheart,” 

Except he wasn’t just your boss, only they didn’t know that. 

Aaron could tell you were hot on his heels even without hearing Morgan’s desperate attempt to help. To them, it must look like one of their colleagues was about to make a huge misjudgement on just how harsh their boss could be when he wanted to. Every single one of the BAU had gone head to head with Aaron at some point, it was only natural for eight people who spent day in, day out with one another, but not one of them had left the interaction feeling good about themselves. 

As a boyfriend, Aaron was almost a complete antithesis of who he was at work. His words were butter smooth, his touch gentle as lace, his heart surprisingly tender for a man who had seen the worst humanity had to offer. And he respected you, he was kind, he was soft and mallowed out, and it had started bleeding into his demeanour at work in the five months you’d been dating. He’d come to work with a skip in his step, you showing up around five minutes later now you guys had coordinated sitting in his car for a little longer to avoid suspicion. Aaron seemed to find your eyes in moments of worry, and it usually only took a small smile or a passing touch of your hands that could easily be explained as an accident to calm him down. 

But he had changed last week, when an UnSub had managed to catch your shoulder with a knife.

It was a surface scratch, nothing a few stitches and a dose of painkillers hadn’t cleared up, and you could already feel the scab peeling off, but since then Aaron had been stiflingly overbearing at work. 

You shut the door behind you, already seeing the way he rubbed at his temple with calloused hands, and you knew the sigh was coming even before you heard it, low and tired, like he didn’t want this argument here. 

“What the hell was that?” You said, your tone clipped as you stared furiously at his broad shoulder blades where he still had his back to you, “Spencer did nothing wrong, he was just trying to help, and he’s totally right, we’d be so much more use with Morgan and Prentiss-”

“If you have an issue with how I run my unit, you can take it up with Strauss,” Aaron snapped, barely looking over his shoulder, “Until then, I expect my orders to be followed, agent,”  

You crossed your arms over your chest, and he knew by the way you’d gone quiet you were staring daggers at him. Taking a shaking breath, he looked at you finally, and felt his resolve crumble almost immediately when he saw how truly seething you were. So much so he didn’t even catch the hurt in your expression until you began speaking. 

“Is it just ‘agent’, now?” You asked, your voice cracking as you swallowed quickly, “It’s not honey, or love, or sweetheart? Or is that only when you want the girlfriend version of me.”

Aaron stopped, whatever witted and crass remark that had about to fly out of his mouth vanishing, and he wished the rest of the team would just clear out of the floor, because he wanted nothing more than to pull you in for a tight hug and tell you in every way he thought possible that he was sorry he was being so cruel. 

But he couldn’t. Because he could feel their eyes on the two of you from here. Here he had to be SSA Aaron Hotchner. Here he couldn’t protect you when creeps were coming at you with knives or stalking women who could easily be your twin. Here he had to stop himself from being so pliant under your touch. 

“You know why I can’t,” He said coldly, his eyes begging and weak, yet they were the only thing that gave him away. His jaw was tense and his brows furrowed, and to anyone else on the floor it looked like he was giving you a stern talking to. 

Except you just scowled, “Can’t be my boyfriend or can’t stop worrying that something is going to happen to me in the field?” You said, and his lips pressed together tightly, because sometimes he hated not being the only one in the relationship that was a profiler. Of course you knew what it was about, you’d seen it in his face when the two of you were being intimate and he caught sight of the bandage, how he’d been completely distracted and tense for the rest of the evening, “That’s what this is about, right? All of this for a tiny cut on my shoulder that’s going to be gone within a week?” 

“Two inches to the right and that guy could slashed your throat,” He snapped, the truth a sore spot for him, and you shook your head, throwing your hands up in despair. 

“How many hits have you taken, Aaron, huh?” You bit back, and he ground his teeth for lack of response, “It’s an occupational hazard, it’s not a big deal, I mean Reid and Penelope have taken bullets for us, I just think you’re being a little overprotective here,”

“I can’t lose you, can you not see that?” He snarled back, his voice rising so high with his frustration he felt his cheeks warm, and in a split second he looked like a wounded animal stuck in a bear trap, cornered and scared and waiting on the inevitable. 

Your mouth dropped in guilt, the fight dying out of your chest because you got it then, you got it why he was being so defensive. He was too slow to stop something from happening to Hayley, and here, right in front of him, was his sparkly new girlfriend risking her life like that wouldn’t be anyone’s worst nightmare. 

You felt terrible, and judging by the way he seemed to bite the inside of his cheek, he did too. Perhaps for shouting at you, perhaps just for being too intense for a relatively new relationship, but before you could attempt to come to an understanding, Spencer opened the door, his eyes shooting between the two of you as the silence became a medium for your tension.

“Rossi wants to know if you guys are ready to head out?” He asked sheepishly, waiting for another snarl of anger from his boss, only to see Hotch looking more like he had a sour gummy shoved in his mouth as he avoided all eye contact. 

“We’re staying to do the profile, Spence,” You said solemnly, and he seemed to not want to poke at a sleeping bear, nodding and leading the two of you out to the drawing board, flicking one last look at Aaron where he was sorting some files around his desk, most likely looking for something to keep his shaking hands busy. 

Sighing, you closed the door behind you and tried to ignore the pain in your shoulder. 

–

He thinks you’ve probably caught the subway home with Spencer by the time they get back. The sixth floor is quiet, his bag heavy with the reports he could easily leave for Monday morning, except he wants to take his mind off the fight the two of you had. He cuts through the middle of the desks, Emily’s coffee cold and stale, Spencer’s cardigan stranded on his chair. He thinks about how he could show the youngest agent he’s sorry, because he shouldn’t have snapped like that, shouldn’t have made him feel small just because you were so totally in the right to be looking at him like that. 

He was immediately confronted with your coat and bag when he opened the door to his office, the two of them leaning against his filing cabinet like they were waiting for him, and he thought it was strange until he saw the culprit, or more so saw your shoes placed neatly under the sofa, your socked feet peeking over the end of the cushions. 

His gaze trailed to your face, calm and smoothed out, like he hadn’t seen the way a frown marred your face that moment he’d left the office as you’d been consulting the giant map he’d pinned up in the round table room. You were fast asleep, one hand tucked beneath your head as a pillow, your knees squishing out to accommodate your body on the two-seater.

Aaron drew a deep breath, gently sliding his bag off his shoulder and letting it sit on the floor beside your shoes, his hand immediately reaching for your calf with a gossamer soft embrace, his fingers squeezing you lightly and dancing up the length of your leg up to your hip. His other hand found home on your head, caressing the roots of your hair as he murmured your name. 

He said it again, a little louder, when you didn’t stir, and it was only then that your eyes fluttered behind your lids. Blinking slowly in the low light of his office, his desk lamp the only source of beige glow, you smiled on instinct when you saw his brown, puppy-dog stare, kicked and hurt as he looked down at you. 

Which was when it came back to you in a shooting pain, the last time you’d spoken, the tone and formality, as if he didn’t know you at all outside of these four walls. 

“You waiting for me?” He asked, his hand continuing its rhythm over your crown, and you nodded under his attentive gaze. 

“I didn’t want to go home alone, I wanted to make sure we were okay, and I knew you’d come here,” You said, and he smiled with an exhausted expression like he had the weight of the world bearing down on his back.

“Of course we’re okay, honey,” He replied, his hand migrating from your waist to grab your knuckles, bringing them to his dry lips to kiss softly. He sighed softly, looking down to where your fingers meshed together, “I shouldn’t have spoken to you like that. Or Reid. But especially not you,”

You let go of his rough fingers to bring a hand up to his face, cupping his cheek gently so he would look at you with those mournful noir hues. 

“Aaron, I’m gonna get bruised sometimes. This probably won’t be the last time, and it probably won’t be the worst one either,” He grit his teeth like the thought of it being even deeper, in an even more lethal spot, made him physically ill, “But I need you to trust in me, trust that I’m going to do everything to come home to you at the end of the day, the same way you do everything to come back to me. Alright?” 

Aaron sighed, leaning in to press his forehead to yours as you nudged your nose against his. 

“You make it so difficult for me to think straight when I’m meant to be your boss, you know that?” He murmured, and there was something boyishly teasing in his tone as he did so, so much so you smiled with him. Leaning in, you kissed him softly on the mouth, your hand moving to the back of his head to pull him closer 

“You will apologise, won’t you? For hurting Spencer’s feelings,” You implored, breaking away from the embrace for a moment, until Aaron tried to dodge your question by kissing over your jaw. But you stood your ground, despite the fact you felt your eyes fluttering in pleasure, “Aaron, he’s sensitive,” 

“First thing Monday morning, I promise,” He said, though you half guessed it was just to please you, since he was already aiming for your neck, his hand grazing the hem of your shirt. 

“So, I know we’re in work, but I take it this is boyfriend Aaron I have now,” He hummed in confirmation, your skin pliant and warm under his lips, and he caught the splutter in your breath when he kissed your jugular the way you liked, “Okay well seeing as you’re boyfriend Aaron, I got to tell you, honey, my boss was being a total worms-for-brains today,” 

Aaron stopped, drawing away to look you in the face where you hid a snicker, and he quickly found the humour in it too as his fingers gripped around your stomach, “Oh, so it’s like that is it?”

You went to say something in rebuttal, only to feel his hands quickly start tickling your stomach, and you squealed in protest, grabbing at his wrists in an attempt to stop him. But it was no use. Aaron’s laughs, tired and groaning as they were, filled his office, and yours quickly symphonied them.

You didn’t even get a chance to tell him that Spencer definitely, definitely knew you two were dating.  

[soxcietyy]

Ghost Face

Yuta Okkotsu x fem reader

18+ minors dni

Description: You decide to watch a horror movie without Yuta being home. Though things go completely wrong. (Not good with descriptions)

You sigh heavy as you hear Yuta telling you over the phone that he won’t be able to make it to your house for Halloween.

"The guys want to go around and scare kids tonight and apparently they need me to drive them around. Plus you wernt even planning on celebrating today, your in a bathtub and had plans to sleep while kids bang on your door." Yuta said.

He wasn’t wrong but he did need to know that. You couldn’t believe that he ditched you for his friends. "Obviously I was going to do something, I was planning on watching a horror movie with you but since your so busy I guess I’ll do it myself."

"Don’t be like that, I promise I’ll make it home before midnight." He said as if that was going to make things better.

"Right"

"Common y/n you know I can’t leave the guys alone, don’t tell me your scared." He said the last part in an amused tone.

"Of course not, have fun Yu." You said before hanging up.

The sweet smell of your cinnamon and apple body wash filled the bathroom. Your body was completely covered in bubbles that filled the tub. The candles lit the place up dimly creating a cozy environment. You could doze off to sleep if you really wanted to but knowing your boyfriend wasn’t going to be here stopped you from it. Yuta was a people pleaser and since he didn’t go out with his friends much he sometimes prioritized them more than you. Not that you were jealous or anything but being alone on Halloween didn’t feel right. You couldn’t even call a friend over because they all had plans tonight. Hopefully tonight would go by like a breeze.

Stepping out you grab the towel and proceeded to dry yourself up. The quiet ringing filled your ears making you feel uneasy. Should it be this quiet on a Halloween night? Peering out the window the see the sun setting. Young kids ran door to door for candy that will be giving them a stomach ache if they ate too much of it. Blowing out every candle in the room somehow gave you an idea. You were going to make him feel bad for leaving you alone tonight.

Walking into your closet you looking through your selection of pajamas. You could go on theme or you could go for something he would want. You knew the perfect one, you pick out a silky black night gown. As basic as it was you knew this was Yutas favorite thing to see you in. This would surely make him run back home like a dog. You did your makeup as natural as you can, brush your hair and slip some sock on before going down stairs.

Digging in your pantry you find orange sugar cookies, Halloween candy, and other spooky things that would have him drooling over the phone. You place them in a tray neatly and bring them into the living room. You set the goods on the coffee table with a cup of Yutas favorite hot chocolate. You couldn’t help but giggle to yourself knowing how he would react when he came back home.

He would have a pouty face and drag his feet towards you. Being the clingy boyfriend he is he would wrap his big arms behind you and rest his head on the crook of your neck. Trying to convince you to have another scary movie night nonverbally. Yuta tends to not really say what he wants but would hint on it with his actions. You had to admit it was cute.

Jumping on the couch you cover your legs with a brown blanket that had silly ghost’s on it. The last thing you needed to make this perfect was putting on the movie obviously. Scrolling through the selection on your smart tv had you decided to watch a classic. That being the move "Scream". Being honest you wernt that great with horror movies, especially when watching them alone. Yuta would hold your hands knowing well that you would have them covering your eyes for half the movie.

Grabbing your phone you quickly snap a picture of you, the tv, the treats and the mug of hot chocolate. You wondered how long it would take him to respond. You send the picture and throw your phone on the other side of the couch. The second your click play on the movie a loud ding echos. You jolt from how loud it was and groan loudly as you pinch the bridge of your nose. If he was here he would of definitely be laughing his ass off.

Picking up your phone you look at the message to see his response.

Yuta <3: Your evil :( your going to regret doing that without me.

You let out a chuckle as you take a bite of a sugar cookie. Turning your attention to the window you see that it has gotten dark quick. Looking back at your phone you see that it was 10pm already. Maybe tonight was going to go by fast.

Forcing yourself to watch the whole move through was hard. You were tempted on changing it to something more cheerful. Something that wouldn’t have you paranoid at all.

When the movie finished you didn’t know if it was good or bad because you covered your eyes for the gory parts. You just couldn’t bring yourself to look at the tv. You really wanted to be brave and it through the whole movie without hiding away but you couldn’t. You weren’t made for this type of stuff. Maybe you should watch a cartoon to lift up your mood. Looking down at your mug you see that you needed a refill. Slipping out of the blanket you made your way to the hot chocolate machine and pour some milk in. Yuta would be home in a few minutes so that meant you had to clean up soon.

As you wait for the machine to warm up the milk and chocolate your phone begins to ring again making your heart jump out of your chest.

"For the love of god" you sigh as you snatch your phone from the counter and answer it.

"Hello?" You say not even bothering to see who called

"Hey darling how is it going?"

You pause and look to see that it has no caller ID.

"Who is this?"

"Does that really matter?"

"Yes it doe-"

"What are you doing?" He cuts you off

You hesitate before answering, it was probably some teens prank calling. Maybe you should humor them and go along with it.

"Making hot chocolate." You say as your pour the hot liquid in your mug.

"Isn’t that a Christmas thing?" He asks.

"Yea Im more of a Christmas girly but I’m about to watch a movie. Nothing goes better to watch a movie than hot coco on a cold Halloween night."

"Let me guess, a scary movie"

"Maybe, why do I need to tell someone who doesn’t want to identify themselves?"

"Do you like scary movies?"

You roll your eyes seeing he was ignoring that questions.

"Not really but I’m always up for anything depending on the mood."

"Do you have a boyfriend?" He asks.

"Yes I do kiddo, how even old are you to be asking me that? You don’t even know my age." You laugh as you set the mug down on the table.

"You look around my age."

You pause to process what he said. How would he know how you look…? Darting your eyes to each window made heart heart race. Scared to know if the next one would have someone standing in front of it. You look at the tv and then suddenly remember this scenario happened in the movie you just watched.

"Hahaha very funny asshole, how about you get a life and don’t ever call me again." You hang up and sit on the couch. Teens now clearly had a different sense of humor from back then.

You felt very uneasy after what just happened so you put on a cartoon. Things like this shouldn’t get to you. It was just a dumb little joke they where playing. Grabbing your cup you take a big sip of the warm drink and sink into the couch. Everything is going to be fine. Maybe you needed to rest, going to bed sounded great right now. Standing up you go around the house making sure the doors were locked and the curtains where closed. It wasn’t until you reached the last window where you noticed something strange. Looking out you saw something looking right at you. They sat on one of your lawn chairs as they faced your window. It was a person wearing a ghost mask.

You shut the curtains and make a run for it upstairs, stupid stupid teens playing pranks and stupid you for letting them work on you. You slam your door closed and quickly dig in your pocket. You were absolutely going to call the cop on that asshole. Digging your hand in your pocket caused you to gasp seeing you left your phone down stairs.

"Fuck, how am I so stupid” you mumble to yourself.

You sat in the corner contemplating on what to do next. You could open the window and start screaming. Maybe wait for Yuta to get home so he can scare them off. Or lastly grab your phone from down stairs. As bad as the last one sounded it was the most logical and fast option. Thinking about it the person was outside and had no way of getting inside. You were safe inside here so getting it shouldn’t be no big deal. Opening the door you peek down the hall and slowly make your way down. You vision began going in and out from the stress pooling in your head. You doubted you could reach your phone on time before something bad happened. On the last step you look into the living room, looking for your phone you spot it on the coffee table. Making another run for it you snatch it and unlock it with your shaking hands. You couldn’t believe that you actually did it. Before you could press any number you feel a presence behind you. Slowly turning around you see him standing there. The man with the stupid ghost face mask.

You let out a scream as he grabs your arms throwing your phone across the room. The both of you start wrestling causing you both to fall too the ground.

"Get the hell off of me!" You yell as your attempts became weaker. He held your arms over your head and brought his face closer to yours.

You let out a shaky breath as you felt him wrap his hand over your neck. Closing your eyes you began to pray. This was how you were going to go out, being chocked to death. Yuta would come home to your lifeless body. Just because you couldn’t defend yourself from an intruder That’s when you heard a soft cling above you. Opening your eyes you see a necklace with a ring on it over you.

Necklace+ring=Yuta.

"Yuta, you asshole. You scared the living hell out of me." You say breathing heavily with your chest rising up and down. That’s when you felt something hard in between your legs. Of course he had to get a hard on right now.

You watched as he unbuckled his belt and unzipped his pants. Pulling them down to reveal his length. You could tell he’d been thinking about doing this for a while seeing how his tip was leaking.

"Did I scary you that bad?" He asks, still not taking the mask off.

"Yea you made me scream" you lay under him trying to read him by his eyes only. As the both of you watch your breaths you began rubbing yourself against his shaft.

He let out a groan as you moved. "Fuck" he exhaled. "I think I can make you scream louder though"

He gripped your neck harder but not enough to completely cut your air flow. His other hand slipping under your silky gown. You could feel as his fingers intertwined with the string of your panties giving it a hard tug down. Taking them off of you he brought you closer to him so you could sit up. Doing so you felt how he directed you to turn around on all fours, making you look at yourself in the living room mirror. Looking in it you could see how he props himself up.

The mask still being fully on him made you excited. This was something new to the both of you. The way he was handling you, talking to you, and exhaling made you so desperate for him to enter you. You watched as he leaned over your back and forced you to look at him through the mirror.

"What did we learn today?" He asks.

"No movie night without you?" You say not breaking eye contact with the black holes that looked at you through the ghost mask.

"No darling” he grabs a fist full of your hair. "Never answer the phone to strangers, especially on a Halloween night." He said as he slammed right into to you.

You let out a cry as he rammed into you forcefully. Tears collecting in the corner of your eyes. He didn’t bother stretching you out nor warning you. He then proceeded to slam into you repeatedly. You could hear him panting in the back. How he gripped your hips and hair. How his balls smacked against your cunt. How you slowly began to forget how to think straight. All you could feel was the amazing pleasure. How he was using you however he wanted. His member reached places only his could touch. It wasn’t girthy but it was surely long.

He rolled his hips trying to find your g-spot. Still pulling your hair back all the way so he could see your face once he found what he was looking for. He mumbled under his breath saying how good you feel. How tight and right you were for him. How you were such a dumb girl for going down stairs to get your phone. Now having to suffers the consequences of a murdered fucking the hell out of you.

In the mirror you saw how he took his mask off. You could see his damped face and the sweat that rolled down his face from wearing the mask. He ran his fingers through his hair as he still kept it moving. He still wore the pants and black hoodie he left with. You couldn’t help but stare at him as he looked at you with a small smirk.

"Hope you like what you see," he says as he continued ramming into you. Your arms began to shake not being able to hold yourself up for any longer. You collapse like a baby deer In front of him. That putting no stop to what he was doing. Splitting your hair into two sections he held each with his hands. You felt close to orgasm as he abused your cunt. You claw at the carpet as your mind started to go completely blank. All you could find yourself doing was moaning his name out and feeling the pleasure.

Suddenly you hit you climax making you scream his name for him to stop. To let you cum all over his member. With a final slam he lets go of your hair causing you to collapse as you rode your orgasm.

"Let’s do that again." He said with a grin.

[thyme-in-a-bubble]

the water heater

lilac, chapter three

a/n: ...don't ask me how late it got when i wrote this.... i was on a roll that day and time just turned into a weird soup.

summary: “Dad, please, for the love of god, just–,” you spun around, though the unexpected figure that stepped into the low light caused your fury to fade away in an instant, “oh, uh, you’re not–, uhm, h-hi.”

warnings: lumberjack!frank castle x reader, lumberjack AU, pete castiglione era, past domestic violence, crazy ex trope, slow burn, renovating an inn, totally inaccurate description of tinkering with a water heater just for the sake of making them fall in love

word count: 1137

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“Well, maybe if you just–”

“Dad! Just–…” you swallowed the rest of the heated statement that nearly escaped your lips, mentally counting to three before glaring back at the man who was breathing down your neck, “do you remember when I was 12 and you had the clever idea of attempting to install that new sink in room 5?”

Already knowing where this story was gonna go, Harvey quietly replied, “…yeah…”

“And just who, pray tell, fixed it after you made the pipes uncontrollably spurt out water, consequently flooding the entire room?”

“…you did…”

“That’s right,” you sucked on another tense breath before continuing, “so, unless you’ve somehow improved that skill since then, which, I’m sorry dad, but I highly doubt that you have, please, just let me handle it alone.”

“…alright, fine,” he ultimately backed off, nearing the basement stairs, “but I’ll be right up by the front desk if you need me.” 

“I won’t,” you called over your shoulder as you redirected your attention to the hopeless pipes, “but thanks.”

Letting the illuminated spot from the small flashlight clutched in your palm guide your vision, you checked each and every rusty tube. 

After too many pokes and prods, you finally found the source of the problem. Stepping over towards the main pipeline you bend down and reached through tickling cobwebs to turn the paint-chipped knob clockwise, shutting all of the water off.

Before your spine managed to straighten back out, you felt your blood begin to boil as you heard the sound of heavy footsteps once again ascending the crooked staircase.

“Dad, please, for the love of god, just–,” you spun around, though the unexpected figure that stepped into the low light caused your fury to fade away in an instant, “oh, uh, you’re not–, uhm, h-hi.”

“Hey,” Pete’s deep voice echoed throughout the dim space, sounding the way that hot chocolate felt. 

“Uh, not that I’m not thrilled to see you here, in my basement of all places, but, um, what are you–, what can I help you with?” 

“Nothing ma'am,” he took a step closer, “it’s what I can help you with.”

“Excuse me?”

“Well, Harvey sent me down here to take a look at something.”

“Oh, did he now…” that was the last you needed in order to lose your patience.  

“Yeah,” Pete’s eyes tracked your form as you riffled through the open metal toolbox and yanked out a wrench. 

“Well,” you huffed as you began to loosen the various hexagon-shaped fittings snug on the pipes spiderwebbing out from the bulky water heater apparatus, the labour of the task presenting itself in your vexed voice, “you can tell my dad that I’m still just fine and don’t need any help!” the tool on your palm then inadvertently slammed against one of the pipes, the clanging and therapeutic blow snapping you enough out of your ire to take a step back. Squeezing your eyes shut a moment, you let out a deep sigh before parting your lips once more to speak, “I’m sorry, it was very kind of you to offer your help, but I’m okay.” 

Fully expecting him to just take off, his stationary stance caught you off guard, “so, the water heater’s acting up?”

“It’s fucking ancient, that’s what it is,” you replied as you returned to twist the remainder of the fittings, “should have updated it long ago, but no, no, that never happened,” you continued to grumble mostly to yourself at this point, “of course it’s much more fun to let me handle it down the line when the hot water outlet is completely rusted over and clogged up to the point of no return, you know, that’s just so much more fun…” your words then faded away as you attempted to turn a knob that in no way wanted to corporate.

Quietly cursing underneath your breath, you tried to put all your weight into it as you strained to turn the stuck fitting. 

But just then, from out of nowhere, you felt the wrench begin to turn, but that victory wasn’t the only thing you suddenly felt. Engulfing your own, the comparatively massive hand of Pete enveloped yours as if it wasn’t even there to begin with, helping you turn it as though the metal was made out of butter. 

Blinking up at him after it finally twisted completely, his intimidating stature seemed even more towering up close. 

“Uh,” you slipped your hand out from under his calloused palm, “thank you…”

“No, problem,” you promptly whirled around to avoid his piercing gaze, busying yourself by riffling through the toolbox without any purpose whatsoever, “so your old man’s not helping you out in renovating this place?”

“Well, he’s brilliant at a lot of things, but those skills in particular have never really been in his bailiwick–, wait…” you kept your back turned to him as you asked, “how do you know that I’m renovating?” 

“People in this town like to talk, a lot,” he breathed out the essence of a laugh, “and that includes your father.”

“Ah, okay…”

Spinning around once again, you kept your eyes steadfast on the dusty pipes, though after what only felt like a second, Pete unexpectedly proposed, “hey, what do you say I lend you a hand?”

“What?” 

“Well,” hands clasped together in front of him, the digits on one of them dug into the palm of the other as he spoke, “I’m no stranger to fixing things, so it might help make it fly by a bit faster than if you try and get through it all on your own.”

Unable to detect if this was just some strange joke or not, you verified, “I’m sorry, but are you legitimately offering me your help in renovating this place right now?”

“Yes.” 

“Seriously?” you bellowed a little louder than you’d intended, earning just a small nod from him in confirmation, “I–…” you blinked back at him, downright dumbfounded, “that’s incredibly generous of you, but I can’t really afford to hire you right now…”

“Oh, I’m not asking you to hire me, just let me help out a bit.”

“Pete, I can’t let you do that, not without any form of compensation.”

“Well, then just pay me in free coffee till it’s done,” he attempted to joke, though it didn’t manage to crack a smile on your lips. 

“This is not funny, Pete.”

“No, it’s not,” he continued, still in a startlingly light-hearted tone, “you clearly don’t know yet just much coffee I tend to drink on average every day,” seeing you not budge an inch, he then dropped the attempt with a gentle nod, “fine, how about we just take a look at a price at a later date? Decide on it later when it’s all done, and you start making a profit again?” 

© 2023 thyme-in-a-bubble 

[yonseibananamilk]

content ahead: hurt/comfort w/ dazai x reader, descriptions of public meltdown, just a drabble but yes it does have a happy ending, relationship can be up to you but they are very close

NOT betaread + ~700 wc

An eraser had rubbed away at your eyes. Puffy and hot and sticky.

With labored breaths, your feet trudged toward what you hoped was the way to your home. Alas, you were still in public and under the scrutiny of passing strangers.

Various shouts by those familiarly warm yet irkingly bitter stirred a pot of bile in your tummy.

You needed to get out of there. Fast.

Sounds thundered in your brain with rapid-fire speed. Every ring. Every footstep. Every voice — especially the ones growing louder and louder behind you.

Flimsy palms cracked against your ears. Once. Twice. Thrice.

Too much attention.

Then shook to your hips. Instinctively to your chest after. Then back to your hips with a forceful grunt.

You couldn’t be seen like this.

It was already bad enough that you broke down in front of your friends — now you had to deal with side-eyes.

On one hand, pity felt like a dream come true. On the other, it made you gag yet again.

Trembling fingers flitted everywhere; Thigh. Shirt. Hair. Grabbing at anything and everything within reach that could keep it from making the truth most obvious.

As you heard yet another shout — words undetermined — your heels spun you into a right turn.

Hard brick thumped against the meat of your shoulder. Ouch.

Stumbling forward, you weren’t quite sure how you manage to catch yourself — but you ended up safely landing anyway. Still standing too.

Lukewarm. Likely some fat water pipe. Though it was far too soft to be metal.

Searing and glossy eyes swung your vision side to side. Settling on an enigma of chocolate hair and widened eyes.

Your hands palmed themselves into the tan of his trench-coat.

Everything from your neck and down slumped against his front. And if you weren’t so frenzied, you would’ve giggled at his lanky body magically keeping you up.

Passing cars filled the air of your body against Dazai.

His gaze traveled all over the tears that cradled your face — more shocked than you by the fated unprecedented meeting.

“You’re crying.” He whispered. Another droplet ripped from your tear ducts.

“I’m sorry.” You tried to redeem yourself. ‘Muh-muh sowwy’ was probably what he heard instead.

No one could understand you like this.

Despite the snot gurgling in your babbling throat — the brunette slung an arm around your waist. Slowly. With intervals of internal battle in-between.

The second arm came quicker.

“You shouldn’t be out like this.”

Captain Obvious murmured, staring at the ground behind your hiccuping back.

Another string of gasps and sobs replied.

“I guess it happened while you were out then, huh?”

Sympathy never came easily to him. Still, it was hard not to feel at least a little bit for someone in a state like yours…

Plus it was easier to feel the sensations of life when you came around. Good and bad.

Your lower lip trembled under its upper twin. Stuck in a weighted pout despite all your efforts to keep a straight face.

Another loud car zoomed past the alley.

And despite all your efforts not to bang your head against the wall.

“Do you wanna go home?”

You nodded.

“Are you able to speak?”

Strings of thick saliva, thanks to mixing in with the marathon of snot in the back of your throat, strained your voice until —

“Yes. Wanna go home.” A wisp pleaded.

“Can I touch you?”

“Uu-uuh.” Unsure of whether or not he understood that — you opted for another nod.

Bandaged hands, awkwardly lukewarm like always, coaxed your body to follow him.

The walk home was quiet.

Dazai’s hand cupped over your ears whenever passing by streets.

Spiky sensations lingered, but most had fizzled away into an annoying, but much more tolerable fuzz.

A humming voice vibrated against your back.

After an eternity in that caving world of unreadable smiles and endless scraping, the walk home zoomed by in a second.

Soft cotton fell against your otherwise quiet frame.

Your hands, growing stabler, smoothed over the light green top. Another lump of human joined you not long after.

‘Warm…’

Chocolate eyes locked onto your glazed gaze.

No longer sticky, the still-damp shine of your lips parts to coo with an adoring touch along his cheek.

Black pupils blended into the color of his irises, even more so when they dilated into saucers.

“Dazai…”

Bandaged hands wrapped surely around you.

“Yes, darling. It’s me. Dazai.”

[the-kr8tor]

KATY AGAIN, CONGRATULATIONS, HONESTLY I FEEL LIKE A PROUD LITTLE SISTER 🥳🤭💕💕 , YOU'VE COME SO FAR, I KNEW YOU COULD DO IT! I just wished I'd met you sooner, then I could call myself an og 💪 *sigh*

Feel free to ignore my rec if you have no inspiration, or there are other recs that need tending to 🥺

Can I get a ❣️ shaped bottle full to the brim of epsom salt and Baby's breath, please! - a short fluffy drabble consisting of the twins helping their father out during his day to day tasks on the ship

Thank you ml ❤️❤️ you're an honorary og in my heart 🩷

Pairing: Pirate! Hobie Brown x fem! Reader

Word count: 3k

Tags: No use of Y/N, no specific physical description of the reader, cw pregnancy talk, cw food mentions, dad! Hobie, mom! Reader, an au of my BDAS series, Billie and Ramona AU, Twins AU. Fluff!

Katy's one year celebration 🎉

“Wake up, guppies.” Hobie whispers, hands placed on Billie and Mona's shoulders, rocking them awake. It's easier when they prefer to sleep on the same bed even though they have their own right next to each other. He traces each of their noses, and they wiggle it in their half sleep state. “Thought you two wanted to help the captain today?”

Ramona is the first one to wake up, yawning, similar grey eyes cracking open. “Hi, dad.” She gives him a soft smile that Hobie reciprocates.

“Hello, guppy.” He gently rubs away sand from her sleepy eyes. “Good dream?”

“Yes, it was the mermaid dream again.” She whispers, ever so polite. “Bee and I were reading under the water while you and mum were making us hot chocolate.”

Hobie tilts his head with endearment. “How could you read underwater when the books would get wet?”

Her eyes shine, “mermaid magic.”

“I wouldn't have thought that, lovie.” She giggles, stretching on the mattress. Her hand smacks Billie to wake, groaning and frowning while she stirs.

Hobie senses an early tantrum. “G’morning, shark.”

She smiles at the ‘menacing’ nickname. Crisis averted. “Morning, daddy.” Turning towards Mona, she flicks her bicep. “You hit me.”

“Sorry, mon.”

Again, Hobie senses a fight. He's getting good at this. “What did you dream ‘bout, guppy?” He tucks away curls that have fallen in front of her face. That seemed to soften the twins away from fighting.

“I dreamed that grandad Miguel visited us on the ship and he was wearing a duck costume.”

“A duck costume?” Hobie and Mona ask at the same time.

Billie giggles with a shrug, “maybe he likes ducks.”

Hobie chuckles, too loudly. He quickly twists around to check on you. Thankfully, you still lay asleep, drooling on the pillow. Satisfied, he returns his attention towards his girls. “You two know the drill. Get dressed, brush your teeth—”

“And eat breakfast, then help the crew and captain dad.” They finish his sentence for him with a grin, twin telepathy working its magic.

He gives them a proud smile, patting each of their cheeks. “That's my girls.”

—

All three of them sit and eat outside with the ever rambunctious crew. Loaves of bread are being tossed around as people ask for them, jams are passed to and fro while Billie and Mona happily chatter with Yuri and Ned. Hobie smiles as the sun shines down on the long table, everything seems perfect with only Gwen, Miles, Pavitr and a handful of the crew with them are away on the second ship. The twins miss them dearly but after a few restless nights of them bawling their eyes out, they're counting down the days until they return back on the main ship.

The only person who isn't miles away but is very much missed on the breakfast table is you. Hobie resists the urge to wake you up, to pepper your face with saccharine kisses until you wake. But you need the sleep, especially that you're carrying the youngest crew member in your growing belly.

After breakfast, Billie and Mona help take down the dishes to the galley where Finn waits for each plate and utensil with a mountain of patience since the tiny crew members could only carry two plates at a time with some help from James. And James distracts them a lot with his stories. One time, Finn has been waiting for the next batch of dishes to be brought down, only to find the trio sitting on the stairs while James turns into their personal storyteller. Thankfully this time though, the only hang up is that Billie and Mona have small legs that don't cover much ground. With the combined help of James and Hobie (even though he needed to talk to Yuri) helped with the dishes.

Next on the agenda is a meeting with his navigator and a few of the crew members inside the captain's office. The twins seem to hate this only thing on the schedule. They sit and wait, and wait some more. With boredom etched on their faces, Ned had a brilliant idea to place a blanket down over a free table where the girls could hang out with their books, toys and drawing notebooks that Miles gifted them. Their giggles and own meeting about which biscuit is the best can be heard under the table while Hobie talks about strategy, he couldn't help but smile the entire meeting. Now it's their favourite part of the day until they see you awake that is.

Hobie brought them back on the deck with the sole purpose of teaching them how to tie knots. Or rather, they begged him to teach them. His calloused hands tie a simple ribbon around a bannister using a silk ribbon instead of the usual rough rope so that their hands wouldn't be irritated by it. His mind wanders back to the day that he first taught you how to properly secure a knot, it seems like forever ago now. But it's not so much a distant memory for him everytime he looks at you, and traces the scars on your palms— it's as if it happened just yesterday.

Waking up from his thoughts of you, he turns around to check on their progress. “Let's see what you've done then.” He's greeted by Mona's curly hair tied around the silky ribbon while Billie's curls are almost identical to hers. All tied around a cute ribbon. Though the pigtails are a bit wonky, they look absolutely adorable. He wishes that Miles could draw the moment so that he could show you later.

“Did we do good?” Mona smiles hopefully, Billie gives her dad the biggest, most adorable grin that could rival the brightness of the sun. Upon seeing this, Mona does the same, even making her eyelashes flutter. A trick that she must've gotten from you.

Hobie crouches down to their height, hands running along their hair and checking the neat ribbons. Surprisingly, they're pretty good at it. Wait till you hear your daughters are better at tying ribbons than you.

He exhales to compose himself from all the cuteness lest he scoops them up in his arms and scream into the sea, telling neptune himself at how adorable his children are.

“Brilliant, you're both brilliant.” They giggle, puffing their chests proudly.

Lo and behold, Hobie still scoops them up in his arms, giving them a squeeze. Both girls shriek happily, legs kicking about as Hobie rises to his full height. He has an idea, which might make Ned pop a blood vessel.

“How about we steer the ship?” Their eyes widened, excited screeching echoing around the deck as they nod furiously.

—

You wake up to the quiet lull of the sea. Waves lapping at the great ship, wood creaking, and blankets falling off your body when a tall wave meets the side of the ship. Water splashes against the porthole, stirring you awake further.

“—Bie?” Your throat scratches with sleep, eyes still heavy as you pat his side of the bed. “Hobie?” Finding it cold and empty, you prop yourself up by your elbows, sniffing at the cool air. “Billie? Mona?” Looking over your girls' toddler beds, you disappointedly find them both empty.

Their rooms aren't quite ready yet according to their standards, the walls aren't pink enough, and their desks aren't big enough. But you and Hobie think that they're still a little bit afraid of sleeping in their own room without the comforting presence of their mum and dad. You don't mind it at all, you also don't think you can sleep without their soft snores across the room. They are still your babies after all.

It's not unusual to find the captain's quarters devoid of your little family, not when both girls are starting to get used to their sea legs after spending the first three years of their life waddling around the shores of your shared home. They were beyond ecstatic when you and Hobie told them that it's the right time to go back to sailing the seas, something that you thought that they wouldn't even care about. But of course they would be excited, after all, their father is the greatest pirate to ever sail the seven seas (according to him and his girls.)

They're very much at home on the ship, so much so that they always wake up their ‘captain dad’ so they could help him with his morning routine even before breakfast is served. Hobie also loves being back, it's like he has never left the embrace of the tides.

Hobie has been a great sport the entire time, whenever the girls would cry about motion sickness or throwing tantrums when they want to climb up on the crow’s nest (because if aunt Yuri can do it, so can they!) he would be there helping you calm them down. Even though he hates waking up before the sun is barely peeking over the horizon, he loves it when he wakes up to his girls' smiling faces. There's nothing better than stirring awake with their little hands patting his face until they ultimately give up and use their feet to kick his legs. The girls would wake you up too but with you carrying the newest crew member in your bump, they're opting to just wake up their dad for now. Hobie has managed to convince the girls that you needed twice the amount of sleep because of the baby. Or managed to swindle them with hot chocolate in the morning, based on the fact that whenever you kiss each of them good morning, they always smell like the sweet drink.

You swing your legs at the end of the bed, socked feet padding along the room to grab your sweater, (or Hobie's old sweater for that matter) after changing and washing your face with the water basin, you head off towards the upper deck. Knowing that they're running along the floors trying to take the mop from James, who refuses to give up his job to a couple of four year olds. Walking along the corridors doesn't leave you winded just yet, you can still see your foot if you look down despite the bump. You have no idea if you can traverse the large ship once you hit the stage of having a stomach as big as a watermelon instead of the coconut sized belly you're strutting around with.

Passing along the galley, you pause at the open doorway, seeing Finn make pie crusts has you wanting to stay and help out. And by help out, you mean taking a little nibble of fruit while he looks away. You still remember the days where you used to spend hours helping in the kitchen.

“Knock knock.” You greet him with a smile. “Have you seen a certain pair of twins with their dad running after them?”

Finn chuckles, blue eyes crinkling at the corners. His grey hair weaved around blonde strands has the twins calling him Santa, or when they're in a good mood (when they want a sweet treat) they call him grandpa Finn, that has the older pirate folding immediately and making whatever the girls want. Unsurprisingly enough, he answers back. “A pair of twins and a pirate walk into a bar, I think I've heard of that joke before.”

“Different joke, Finn.” You snort, eyeing the bowl of blueberries on the counter. Finn, being the perceptive chef on board, notices your hard stare at the fruit.

Without a word, he nudges the bowl towards you, and then he points up towards the deck, replying to your previous question.

“This is why you're my favourite crew member.” Latching onto the bowl, you take it with a smile. “Don't tell Yuri.” He makes a face, putting both flour coated hands up in surrender.

You leave with a grin and a bowl of blueberries. It's still a mystery to you on how Finn keeps them fresh even after weeks of buying them from the last coastal town you anchored in for supplies. You guess you'll never know.

Walking up the steps towards the deck, you're greeted by blinding light as you open the door with a creek. The sight alone would've had you melting if not for the fragile bowl in your hands. Hobie stands on the highest deck with Billie and Ramona in his arms. While both girls are ‘steering’ the ship with their small hands gripping on the wheel as if they're actually sailing the huge ship.

“Mornin’ gorgeous.” Yuri nudges your side, hands dipping inside the bowl to take a handful of fruit, sunlight dancing along her features. “Sleep well? Or did the little pirate keep you awake?”

With the mention of the baby, your hand instinctively pats the bump softly. “Nope, the baby barely kicked me last night. And Hobie helped by letting me sleep in.”

Yuri hums, smiling softly between you and the twins laughing in their dad's arms. “He better, or I'll be the one to kick Hobie where the sun doesn't shine so he doesn't experience fatherhood ever again.”

You laugh, “that is bleak, Yuri.”

She shrugs, “I'm a pirate, Y/N, a pirate who hasn't shot her gun at a navy in months.”

“Sure, big bad pirate, who has made my girls' clothes ever since they were born.” She huffs with a teasing smile, taking another handful of berries. “Don't worry, once Gwen and the others get back from their scouting mission, you get to be a big bad pirate again.”

“I'm turning soft, doc.” She looks at you with puppy dog eyes, lashes fluttering teasingly.

“I know, Yuri, you made my girls puppets last week.”

“And they were fucking gorgeous.”

You start to walk away before she takes half of your stash. “They were! If you get tired of being a pirate, maybe being a puppet maker is your calling.”

She flips you off, grinning from ear to ear before going below deck to maybe annoy Finn instead. Bounding up the steps, Hobie and the twins heard you before they saw you.

“Mummy!” They simultaneously call out, wiggling out of Hobie's arms. He lets them gently back down on the floor, to which they immediately latch onto your legs, trying to climb up.

“Hello, my darlings!” You coo, patting both their heads. Their matching captain tricorns make you giggle. “What have you two been up to?”

“A lot!” Billie jumps up and down to reach your hip, you meet her halfway by crouching down to their level. “We fixed the sail with uncle Ned—”

“We helped auntie Yuri find land by looking into her te-escope!”

You nod enthusiastically, smile blindingly bright as you hold on to them. “What else? You two looked busy with dad.”

Hobie leans on the wheel that's still not activated with the help of a rope tied around the bottom and the other end wrapped around the bannister. The girls are none the wiser. The sun bathes Hobie in glorious light, rays of light seeping through his linen shirt, looking as if no time has passed.

“I should be careful, they're goin' to take my job as captain if they continue their trainin’”

You gasp, feigning hurt. “You mean they're planning a mutiny?! No, not my own girls!”

“What's a mu-tiny?” Billie questions, brows furrowed, an identical look that her sister is also sporting.

Hobie closes the small distance, boots thumping along the floorboards, looking softly at his girls while his hands find their way on their heads. “Tell you what, help uncle James clean the poop deck and I'll tell you.”

“Aye, aye, captain dad!” They say at the same time, even saluting Hobie. Before they could run off, you call them back.

“Take the blueberries, share them with each other, alright? Pass it around to the crew too.” You hand the bowl to them, both girls give you a grin and a smooch to each of your cheeks as thank you. Sometimes you wonder how they could be this sweet, you've joked once that they're a gift from the sea with how kind they could be. “Careful! Don't run— and they're already running off.” Their small feet bound away towards an unassuming James.

“They got that from you.” Hobie helps you up, hand warm against yours. “Always runnin’ off, always so bloody energetic.”

You prop your chin on his shoulder, smiling at him. “Did they tire you out, old man?”

“We're the same age, love.” His hand wraps behind you to cup your hip, fingers tapping along your stomach. He watches as his girls prefer to sit down on the stairs to munch on their snacks. “How's our growing pirate?”

“Good, he didn't kick me all night this time.”

“You?” Hobie leans on the bannister, back pressed on the wood while he guides you in front of him, arms around you, thumbs brushing along your spine while you cradle his jaw in your hands.

“I'm okay, Hobs, nothing of note.”

“You sure? We can still turn around so you can give birth on land.” Worry etches on his face, and you rub your hand on his forehead to flatten the worry lines.

“You forget that I was born at sea, and I've given birth to your pirate gremlins without a problem. I can handle it, don't worry.”

Hobie has a glimpse of you back then, legs coated in crimson, screams echoing around the small cabin that even silences the roar of the sea next door. “Just say the word and we'll find the nearest land, yeah?”

“I promise,” he raises a brow and you roll your eyes. “You know I never break a promise, Cap'n.”

Hobie opens his mouth to quip back, but James’ screech makes you and the pirate in your arms to look. Billie giggles as she runs away with a mop, tracking water droplets on the deck while Mona drags James down with her clinging to his leg with a laugh.

“I think we should save James before he falls overboard. Again.” You unwrap yourself from Hobie, before you could leave his side fully, he gently tugs you back in for a quick but affectionate kiss and a loving pat on your belly.