#i feel like maroon is gonna sweep | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

mountainofgoats · 4 years ago

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Back in the Saddle

Midvale, a few weeks post-Phantom Zone. In an attempt to remaster the powers Kara spent months without, she and her two most important people make a road trip home to test her flight.

Or, I just want Kara to be able to fly for the joy of it the way Clark did in Man of Steel.

Read with “Flight” by Hans Zimmer playing. You won’t regret it.

/////

Lena knows the moment Kara emerges from the house up on the ridge. Alex’s eyes flick up, back down, then up again in quick succession. An entirely smug grin alights her face before she pointedly looks back down at her tablet.

“We’re going to have to have a talk about your affinity for making my sister new suits at some point, Luthor,” she says.

Lena feels her face heat up. “No idea what you mean.”

“Sure you don’t.”

Lena scoffs. “She needed a new one,” she hisses at the smirking elder Danvers. “The one she had was wrecked and there was no fixing it.”

“Agreed,” Alex allows, smile growing. “But this is what? The fourth one you’ve made for her?”

“One other! With upgrades!”

“Mmhmm.” Alex types a few more things into the tablet. Pulls out a USB and plugs it into the side. “Sure.”

Lena feels her face go hot. “What are you insinuating, Alex?”

Alex shrugs. “Not insinuating anything,” she says. She glances back up and smiles some more. “Just thinking you’re making a habit of making suits for Kara and I kind of appreciate it.”

At Lena’s questioning look, Alex elaborates. “Winn made her first one,” she says. “And yeah, it did the job, but it was-“ she waves her hand in a so-so gesture, wincing- “not the best. Prone to wardrobe malfunctions.”

Lena snorts. “Patriarchy.”

“Fuck ‘em,” Alex agrees with a playful two finger salute.

After a shared grin with Lena, her eyes travel back to where Kara must have made it down to the beach. “They’ve all protected her, the suits you’ve made,” Alex says. Her voice has gone quiet. Gone is the light teasing. She holds Lena’s eyes for a moment. “And I... can’t tell you how much that means to me.”

Lena’s eyes suddenly mist over, and her throat works against the lump that forms there.

Alex looks pointedly back down at her tablet, where she pulls up a video feed from one of the comm pieces resting on the boulder she’s made her impromptu HQ desk. She clears her throat. “I’ve never made sure you knew that. So. Now I’m telling you.”

Lena absolutely refuses to cry, but fuck if it doesn’t take a Herculean effort. She wrestles with the hot gratitude and affection boiling in her chest as Alex fiddles with the settings on the camera feed.

Alex glances up again, and her smile turns warm in a way Lena knows is reserved only for her sister. “Looking good, sis,” she calls. “Little weird without the cape, though.”

“Thanks! Lena made it!” Kara chirps from behind Lena. “Even has pockets! And yeah, I was going to ask you about that. Is there no cape, Lena?”

She barely dares to turn, but Alex is giving her one hell of a challenging look, and she’s still a Luthor.

And Luthors never back down from a challenge.

She turns her face just enough to look over her shoulder and immediately curses that particular Luthor trait.

Sure, she made the suit. But that in no way prepares her for what it looks like when it’s wrapped around Kara. The dark blue, almost black throws her golden hair, shimmering in the late sun, in sharp relief. The smooth material sweeps over the dips and curves of her shoulders and biceps, the dip in the high collar exposing slightly below the hollow of her throat. She approaches silently on the sand, the soft and supple deep maroon boots smooth and soundless. Lena had left the pants a little loose, a little more comfortable, but that did nothing to hide the muscle that bunches and releases rhythmically as Kara walks across the sand.

And she’s looking quizzically at Lena. Head slightly titled, blue eyes somehow even bluer against the darkness of her suit, the blue and red accents, and the reddish tint of the setting sun.

Lena rips her eyes away from the subtle dips in Kara’s abs and desperately wracks her brain to remember what question was asked of her.

“Cape, Lena?” Alex prompts with a shit eating grin.

“Right,” Lena coughs. She turns fully to meet Kara, hand already pointing to the belt slung diagonally across Kara’s chest. “I figured, since you’re not wanting to be in the limelight just yet, I should make it a bit more understated,” Lena explains. “Did you see the crest on your left shoulder?”

“Yeah,” Kara nods. “I like that it’s so small.”

“Press it.”

Kara’s eyes dance with curiosity, not leaving Lena’s, as she reaches up to press on the tiny S affixed to the dark brown leather.

At the press of Kara’s fingers, the nanites immediately begin to crawl across the suit, gathering and extending down her back and around her chest in a long, deep maroon cloak. Kara lets out a startled sound of delight, swishing the thick material and stroking at it with near reverence.

“More nanites?” Alex smirks.

Lena shrugs, tossing the elder Danvers a smirk of her own. “I mean, I do have an MO at this point. No sense in ditching it.”

“It’s great!” Kara exclaims. She swishes the cloak again, grinning happily. “I can put it away if I want! This would have saved me so many headaches years ago!”

She bounces over to Lena and wraps her up in a warm hug. “Thank you,” she says quietly. Only for Lena. “I love it.”

Lena squeezes her around the back, hands fisting in the material of the cloak, feeling herself flush with happiness. “I’m glad,” she whispers.

“That’s actually a pretty good idea, Lena,” Alex says as they break apart. She’s back at the tablet, tapping and looking over some sort of read out. “She was always complaining how the cape got in the way.”

Lena arches an eyebrow at Kara. “What about your cape tricks?”

Kara grimaces. “Much less useful than I was led to believe.”

Alex snorts. “Understatement of the century,” she mutters. “Okay,” she strides over to a Kara and gently fits a comm around her ear. “That has a GPS and camera built in. We’ll be able to see what you see, know where you are, monitor vitals-“

Kara makes a face. “Wait, if you can track me, couldn’t someone else?”

Lena shakes her head. “The crest has signals built in to interfere with radar. Any signal that’s not Alex’s will get scrambled to cloak you.”

Kara surges forward for another hug, and over her shoulder Lena sees Alex smile with an exasperated shake of her head.

“Always protecting,” she mutters.

“What, Alex?” Kara asks as she lets Lena go and takes a step back.

“Nothing,” Alex says. She inputs a few more commands on the tablet, then looks up at Kara. “So. You ready?”

Lena glances over to Kara for what she thinks will be a quick confirmation.

But in those brief seconds, Kara’s easy smile and eager brightness had darkened.

In the red glow of the sun, she stands with her face tilted upward. She gazes at the sky with unfiltered longing, but her hands are trembling. Her whole being quivers, wound tight like a spring, as if she wants nothing more than to hurl herself up to the clouds. But there’s a tightness in her eyes, something there that just... won’t let her. She just stands there, shaking, looking up with haunted eyes.

Alex reaches out, rests a hand on Kara’s forearm. “Hey,” she murmurs. “You don’t have to do anything crazy. Whatever you’re ready for is all you have to do. The rest will follow.”

Kara nods, but still she hesitates. “But what if- what happens if I can’t- I mean-“

“I caught you floating in your sleep two nights ago,” Lena says gently and Kara’s eyes - desperate, scared eyes - whip to hers. “You can do this. But only if you’re ready to. Okay?”

The near manic desperation in Kara’s eyes cools as they hold each other’s gaze. She squeezes Alex’s hand, takes a breath, and nods resolutely.

“Yeah, yeah,” she mutters, giving her shoulders a shake. “I’m good. I’m okay.”

Alex squeezes her arm, then lets go. “Whenever you’re ready.”

Kara has her eyes on the sky again, gives her shoulders one more fortifying shake. She flexes her hands, rubs them on her pants once. She glances over at Lena and seems to brighten at the reassuring smile Lena gives her.

“Okay,” she breathes. “Here goes nothing.”

She stills, closes her eyes. Breathes in deep, then lets it out slow.

She breathes once more, the tense lines of her face relaxing.

Silently, her feet leave the sand.

Alex reaches over for Lena’s arm and grasps it tightly.

Eyes still closed, Kara rises higher in the air, straight up. She turns in gentle circles as she ascends, up and above the ridge.

Alex is looking over the read-outs on the tablet, eyes darting back and forth with near frantic energy. “Looking good so far, Kara,” she says distractedly. “Vitals are good. You’re at a hundred feet now.”

“Feels good,” comes Kara’s voice through the comms. “I’m not even trying.”

Alex’s smile is so proud Lena wants to cry. “That’s good, kid. That’s so good. Two hundred feet now.”

Alex is still gripping Lena’s arm painfully tight, but she’s rocking up on her toes happily, shooting Lena fervent looks of pure joy.

“Knew you could do it, Kara,” Lena says into her own comms, taking Alex’s hand away from her arm but keeping ahold of it. She squeezes as tight as her own bubbling pride allows.

Kara’s finally in the air. She’s flying. It’s one more step closer to conquering the giant mountain they’ve been climbing since she got back.

“How high now, Alex? I’m not looking.”

Alex glances at the screen, then up towards where Kara is becoming a dark dot among the clouds. “A thousand feet. Still feeling good?”

“Yeah. Really good, actually.”

“Have you opened your eyes yet?” Alex’s voice is teasing.

“No. What if I’m suddenly afraid of heights?” Her voice is childishly whiny, drawing a chuckle out of Alex and Lena.

Lena glances down at the video feed from Kara’s earpiece and has to stop herself from gasping.

“Kara, I think you should open your eyes,” she says slightly breathlessly.

“I’m gonna fall if I do,” comes Kara’s tight reply.

Alex is also staring at the camera feed, watching as the view of the water recedes farther toward the bottom of the screen as Kara rises higher and higher. “Kara, you want to see it,” she says. “Trust us.”

Lena knows the exact moment Kara opens her eyes. There’s a tiny gasp through the comms, and the camera arrests in place. Locked on to the brilliance of the shimmering water, the watercolor of the clouds in the light of the setting sun.

For a moment, Kara hangs motionless in the air.

Alex is anxiously tightening and loosening her grip on Lena’s hand. Looking up to where Kara is barely a speck in the sky, back to the camera, then back up again.

“Kara?” she says, a small break in her voice. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” comes Kara’s breathless voice. “Yeah, no, I’m good.”

There’s another moment of silence, then “It’s breathtaking. I... I’d almost forgotten-“ her voice cracks, and she clears her throat -“How beautiful this planet is.”

Alex squeezes Lena’s hand so tight it hurts, and Lena brings her free hand to grip at Alex’s forearm.

Alex sniffles, swipes her eyes against her shoulder. “It has its moments,” she rasps.

For a few long moments, they three stay silent. Lena and Alex on the ground, clutching at hands and arms in barely restrained joy with the waves lapping nearby.

And Kara, so high they can’t even see her, hanging in midair. Silent save for her gentle, easy breathing and the wind whistling around her.

And then, so suddenly both Lena and Alex flinch, she huffs a breath.

“Wanna see how fast I can get around the world?”

Alex barks a laugh, exchanging a fond and relieved look with Lena. “Your record is what? Thirty four seconds?”

“I can beat that,” comes the cocky reply.

And god, she sounds so happy.

Alex scoffs. “If you say so.”

Lena pulls out her phone and sets up a stopwatch. “On my mark, then?” she says.

“Don’t break anything, Kara,” Alex warns, though there’s no bite in her voice.

“And don’t break that suit,” Lena chimes in.

Kara’s voice has a tiny edge of Supergirl - the first since the Phantom Zone - when she replies. “Nothing’s getting broken here except the sound barrier.”

A shiver shoots down Lena’s spine. She does her best to ignore why.

“In three, two, one-“ she taps her phone- “Go.”

BOOM!

The noise vibrates through Lena’s chest. High above, the sky seems to part for Kara as she rockets towards the sun, leaving a trail in her wake.

Lena and Alex crowd the screen, watching wide-eyed as the ocean zips by far below, clouds whipping past, the camera quivering with the breakneck speed.

“Oh my god,” Lena murmurs almost by accident.

On the screen, a dark line of land rapidly approaches on the horizon as Kara hurtles toward it.

“That’ll be Japan,” Alex mumbles. She checks the read-outs and nods to herself. “Vitals are still good. Heart rate’s a little elevated, but considering-“ she gestures to the screen with a wry smile.

Lena nods, barely holding back happy tears.

On screen, Kara slows just enough for the sound to come back. Air whistles through the comms, her breathing slightly labored, and she ducks her head to watch the cities blink far below.

She won’t break her record by slowing like this, but Lena doesn’t mention that. And neither does Alex. They just watch as Kara picks up speed again, camera angling strangely as she dives.

She shoots west, weaving in huge slalom turns. The camera angles and tilts as she looks across the water, across the trees and grasslands and mountains as she passes them. Cities and towns flash past like street lights on a highway.

On the screen, her GPS tracks her through the rest of Asia, across India and into Africa. It’s a far cry from the speed she’d shot off at, but she doesn’t seem to mind as she dips and rolls through the clouds, hand outstretched as if to catch the swirling vapors.

Once she reaches the distant coast, Kara dips so low her hand reaches out to skim the water. She sails over the waves, fingers dragging, until she finds a pod of dolphins playing in the white water. For a moment, she flies just above the waves with them as they leap and dance.

The camera jerks toward the sky, and Kara gives a loud, delighted whoop as she shoots upwards. Spinning and spinning so fast the camera is blurring with the speed.

And through it all, Kara is laughing. Huge, joyous belly laughs, arms outstretched and head thrown back as she sails back into the clouds.

At 40,000 feet, she slows her ascent. Like a ball tossed in the air, she hovers at a stop for a split second before she starts to plummet. She turns, belly down and arms outstretched as the ocean rushes to meet her.

Still laughing with outrageous joy.

“God I missed that,” Alex murmurs. Her voice quivers and breaks.

Lena doesn’t take her eyes away from the screen. She doesn’t want to miss a single moment of this. But she does give Alex’s hand a squeeze in agreement.

Because hearing that laugh, being here and watching as Kara rolls and dives through the air, is healing pieces of Lena’s heart that she didn’t think would ever even scab over.

Kara’s joy is infectious, like it had always been. And Lena finds that she’s soaking it in like a woman parched.

On screen, Kara shoots off with another mighty BOOM. Her GPS shows her hurtling across the US at breakneck speed.

“Not even close to her record,” Alex laughs wetly. “Guess we’ll have to try again later.”

Lena swipes her hand under her eyes with a chuckle, catching tears that neither of them really acknowledge.

And seconds later, Kara lands with a muffled thump. Sand flies under her feet, and the ground trembles.

But her face is flushed, smile radiant, eyes glistening with tears.

Alex takes a step toward her, but pauses. “You okay?”

Kara gives a sobbing laugh, gestures helplessly with her hands. But her smile is wondrous.

Alex surges forward and wraps her in a tight hug. Kara clutches back, hands buried in her sister’s jacket and face pressed against her shoulder.

After a moment, one hand reaches out, fingers wiggling invitingly.

Lena takes that hand in both of hers and holds on tight. Over Alex’s shoulder, Kara’s eyes crinkle with her smile, sparkling and overwhelmed. She squeezes Lena’s hand, then tucks her eyes against her sister’s shoulder with a huge breath.

In a way, Lena feels as if they’re all breathing that same breath of relief.

“I wanna go again.” Kara’s voice is muffled adorably against Alex’s jacket.

Alex chuckles and rocks Kara back and forth happily. “We can stay out here as long as you want.”

Kara nods. “’Kay,” she says. But she holds on to Alex tighter, fingers digging into her jacket. “But in a minute, okay?”

Alex nods. Presses a kiss to the side of Kara’s head. “In a minute.”

And that seems to suit all three of them just fine. No one’s quite ready to let go yet.

/////

I'm a sucker for the angst just as much as the next nerd but I needed them to just... be happy and together. Just for a moment.

#let them be happy for a minute #let kara fly for the joy of it for once #lena's thirsty #and alex is smug about it #everyone gets a hug #I wrote dis #supergirl #danvers sisters #kara danvers #alex danvers #lena luthor

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blacksupremacy86 · 2 years ago

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Sweeping The industry Part 2

Part 1 - 2

Adam Levine band Leader of my favorite band Maroon 5 and owner of that voice.

I felt my cellphone vibrating and ringing in my pants.

I lift it out of my pants answering it with a odd but very bright smile.

I can hear his voice loudly ask me to help to produce his music.

I agree to meet him at his palace with my mighty musical troop.

“I want you to produce the new album”

“New Maroon 5 sure”

“Well yeah eventually “

“I meant my solo album”

“Oh! You want to go solo?”

“Sounds about right”

I let him drone on placing my cellphone on his glass table.

I press play in a low frequency the music I just created plays.

He starts to shake his head standing up and he picks up his drum sticks,

He starts to bang in the air loving the sound erupting out.

Like candy to his ears he can’t stop but be in the zone.

My ass parks in the seat watching his sweet tight and sexy ass.

“Why can’t I stop this movement?”

“You are a genius “

“I am in awe of you”

“God it feels good”

“I want to dance”

“Ooooooohhhhhhhh yyyyeeeaaahhhh!”

Part 3 - 4

The song finishes he stops huffing in a loud voice.

So damn husky his serious face in those sexy jeans and white tee shirt.

He makes a move crossing his arms then he digs a cigarette box.

He slips the cigarette behind his ear and excuses himself.

Opening the door he walks onto the veranda

the cool air washes past him.

He pops it into bid mouth lites it with his liter and smokes it out.

“Aaaaahhhhhhh”

“Happy, laying back and all so good”

“I need you to produce it”

“Please, I beg you”

“You only need to submit to me forever”

“I’ll do whatever you wish”

“I am yours “

Part 5 - 6

“Get your guitar”

“Yes, Master Lawrence”

“Now troop set up”

“Adam”

“Yes Sir”

“Howl loudly”

“Aaaaawwwwoooooo”

“Ooooh baby”

“Flashy, sexy”

“Damn fine”

“Wild and free”

“Shaking my body “

“Spinning out of control “

“I am damn fine”

“You want me”

“You know me “

“Baby”

“Ooohh”

“Your hear is burning “

“Touch me”

“My soul is lit of fire”

“Master my soul”

“Shooting into the sky”

“My ass shaking to your voice “

Part 7 - 8

“What the fuck ?”

“What is this?”

“You sound perfect “

“The lyrics are hardcore”

“Not really”

“I can’t believe it”

“The pleasure of it all”

“It’s everything “

“I need to dance “

“You saved me”

“You set me in fire”

“I love you “

“I love you too Mr. Levine”

“Adam”

“I love you Adam”

“Thank you sir”

“Call me Master”

“Mmmmmmmm”

“Yes sire”

“Sir Yes Sir”

“Oooooohhhh”

“Baby”

“There I go again”

“It’s gonna be a classic”

The end

#Hypno Music #Mass Enslavement

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celestialrry · 3 years ago

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I wish you would write a fic where...

the main character is the daughter of a really important producer harry is working with and he has a major crush on her but 1) he doesn’t want her dad to feel like he’s taking advantage of her 2) she has a rule of not dating musicians

too young

OOOOOOHHHHHH

HIIII GUYS..... i started school again and honestly for the longest time i've had no inspiration to write but then i got this ask!!! (thank you for your patience anon ily) and was like i love this prompt but then i wrote the first part and had no idea how to continue it,,, but I finally finished it!! ε(♡'-')з (this is me giving you all my love and affection for sticking with me)

(NOT EDITED)

warnings: alcohol consumption

Harry was in a dilemma.

Usually, he could sweep all his issues under the rug, save them for another day, but this one... he couldn't do that. Not because he didn't want to, but because this problem was more than just a dust bunny on his hardwood floor.

Y/N was the problem.

Or to be more precise, his feelings for Y/N were the problem.

Harry had confidence when it came to his crushes. He was smooth, flirty, and snagged almost every single person he's caught feelings for.

But not Y/N.

No, she was almost unreachable, for quite a few reasons.

One, the only reason he knew her, met her, was through a producer he had been working with the past few months. Arlo was massive in the industry and Harry was flattered when Arlo approached him with interest in collaborating. And only a month into working together, he met Y/N.

Harry's head snapped towards the door that had just burst open, a girl barging into the studio that he had never seen before. She was gorgeous, he had to admit, but he couldn't ignore her blatant disrespect for coming in and making a scene while he, Arlo, and a few of his bandmates were working annoyed him to no end.

"Dad! Oh my god, you will not believe what just happened, I was on my way over here and I fucking bumped into Zach," The girl began ranting, approaching Arlo and huffing as she stood next to Arlo's chair. "Of all fucking people I could see just walking down the street, it had to be him. The world is against me today I swear. Anyways, I brought that drum pad you wanted."

She dug into her big brown bag that was slung over her shoulder and pulled out the music board, placing it on the table in front of Arlo.

"Where'd you see him, Y/N? We're about to go on break and I can leave and go kick his ass in," Arlo checked his watch. "7 minutes."

Y/N, Harry now knew her as, sighed and crossed her arms. "He's long gone by now, think he shit his pants when he saw me walking near him."

"Atta girl, thanks for bringing my board too," Arlo smiled up at her from his chair. He then turned to see Harry, and Mitch staring at the two of them. "Oh sorry guys, this is my daughter, Y/N. Y/N, this is Harry and Mitch."

She turned to look at them and smiled wide. "Nice to meet you!"

"You too." They both said in unison, looking at each other with a smile, before focusing back on Y/N.

"We'll be done soon, if you wanna go out and get lunch." Arlo said, turning back to his daughter.

"Sounds good, just text me," Y/N replied, giving him a smile before turning back to the boys. "Nice meeting you guys, again."

And before they could even respond she was gone.

Two, Y/N was younger than him. 6 years younger to be exact. It didn't seem like much, but when put into perspective, she was 21, only just being legally allowed to drink in the States, and Harry was 27. Practically 30, if you ask him, and he was positive Arlo would have his head if he found out Harry liked his daughter.

And three, she doesn't date the people her dad works with.

He had found this out one night when he, Arlo, Y/N, Mitch, and a couple other writers were hanging out at the studio, drinking some wine (she had even exclaimed that this would be her first time drinking red, and Harry was yet again reminded of her age) and chatting after a long day of working.

Harry and Mitch were laughing with Arlo about the first time they met Y/N, and her comments about this “Zach” guy.

“He’s my ex, and had worked with my dad on one shitty song that never got far because he’s just so-- music is just not his thing, to put it nicely. But he was an absolute asshole and after him I made rule to never date anyone Dad works with. It would just go terribly.” She explained, letting Arlo take a few more jabs at the guy before stopping him.

So yeah, Harry was in a dilemma.

In all the time he’d known Y/N, he just kept falling for her. She was kind, funny, beautiful, lit up any room she walked into, and treated Harry like fine porcelain.

She was just fucking perfect.

｡:°ஐ

Y/N had probably been in a lot of worse positions than the predicament she was in now.

For example, that time her dad walked in on her and her ex making out in the studio, or her 21st birthday when she got completely wasted and almost got into the wrong car instead of her uber, and the next day found out that the man driving that car was actually a convicted criminal.

So there’s worse things that could happen than her liking Harry.

But it doesn't mean it wasn’t bad.

The thing is, Y/N didn’t fall for anyone easily. Her one and only ex Zach treated her like a queen until he could officially claim her as his. The flowers he gave her before every date remained at the shop and the consistent compliments turned into insults and muttered claims of discontentment.

Hence why he was her ex. It took Y/N quite a long time to work up the courage to end things with him. He was her first kiss, first time, and first boyfriend. She was yet to find her first love, she never really loved Zach. The way he used to treat her in the beginning, she thinks she loved, but him? No, she would never call him her first love.

So when Y/N’s time crush on Harry began to develop into real feelings in such a short span of time, it terrified her. She had really never felt this way about someone before; butterflies would erupt in her stomach every time he shot her a smile and her mind would erupt into pure chaos when his body brushed up against her own.

So yeah, it could be worse, but it certainly wasn't good.

｡:°ஐ

Y/N enjoyed spending time at the studio with her dad, and surprisingly, spending time with her dad’s “co-workers”. Even though she didn't usually hang out with the pop stars and spent time mostly with the backing band/producers (they were usually 50 year old men, but they were pretty nice) she enjoyed herself fully, having lunch breaks and talking about where their children when to school and whatnot.

Sometimes though, every blue moon, Y/N would hang out with a super star her dad was working with. Usually when most stars are at the studio all they did was record, which was understandable, but she never had the chance to meet a lot of them.

With Harry though, everything was different. It wasn’t just lunches at the studio, or dinner at someone’s house, no, tonight they were going out to a bar.

It was completely unexpected too, they had just wrapped up a song, and Harry, being in a particularly good mood had yelled out about going to a bar to celebrate. Of course, Y/N ignored his shout, knowing she wasn’t invited, and after Arlo had said something about “not being able to party as much as I used to”, she gave her dad a hug good night and waved a little goodbye to the band.

“Wait!” Harry had exclaimed, chasing after her in the hallway. “Where are y’going?”

Y/N’s eyes widened and she looked behind her before looking back at Harry. “I was just gonna head back home.”

Harry’s head tilted, and looked at her questionably. “Y’not comin’ to the bar with us?” He practically pouted.

Her brows shot up in surprise. “Oh! I- yeah I’ll go out with you guys.”

Which lead her here, decently tipsy, and sitting in a booth between Harry and Sarah, laughing at a story Adam had been telling. Every now and then she would glance over to Harry just to find his gaze already on her.

Her heart fluttered every time, and if Harry’s cheeks weren’t already flushed from the alcohol, Y/N would have noticed him blush every time they locked eyes as well.

“M’gonna get another drink, does anyone want anything?” Y/N piped up, a resounding chorus of “no, thank you’s” answering her question. Except for Harry who spoke softly, “A beer? Go ahead and put it on my tab.”

She shook her head at him as he stood up to let her out of the maroon leather booth. “Can’t make you pay for that, I offered.” She said, standing to lock eyes with him yet again.

“Nope,” He grinned. “You can, and you will.”

“But-”

“No buts.” He chuckled, giving her a dimpled smile.

Accepting her defeat she nodded and squeezed his arm with a murmured “Thank you.” before making her way to the bar.

Harry sat back down again, eyes trailing her figure as she walked away before looking back at the table to be met with knowing eyes.

“What is it?” He asked, glancing around at everyone.

“You’re whipped, mate.” Charlotte grinned, everyone else nodding in agreement.

“What?! I am not.” Harry pouted, eyes flicking over to Y/N, who was making her way to the table, one drink in each hand, before back to everyone else.

“She’s really sweet H, you should go for it.” Mitch said.

Harry shook his head, eyes now on Mitch. “I’m not interested in her like that, she’s way too young for me, anyways.”

Just then did he hear the soft hit of his beer and her cosmo land on the table. His gaze trailed up her hands to see Y/N’s shattered face. “Here.” She practically whispered to him.

“I just remembered I have an early class tomorrow, so I should go, but thank you guys for inviting me out.” Y/N explained in lighting speed as she leaned over Harry to grab her purse and toss is over her shoulder.

Words of confusion were tossed around the table but she was already booking it out of there, leaving Harry just as devastated as she was.

“I think she heard you, H.” Sarah said, frowning.

Harry let out a muttered “Fuck!” before taking out large bills from his wallet and tossing it on the table. “For my tab, m’sorry, I gotta go.” And he left just as fast as Y/N did, weaving through the tables and people before bursting out the door to see her standing on the street, arm wrapped around her waist and another holding her phone.

“Y/N!”

Her head whipped around to see Harry bustling towards her and she quickly wiped her eye as he approached.

“Wait, don't go,” He said, struggling to find the words. “We all want you to stay, I want you to stay.”

“I have to get to class Harry, plus, I’m too young to be staying out this late anyways.” She grimaced at her own words.

He sighed, eyes flickering from her own to her lips then back again. “I-fuck, you know I didn’t mean it like that.”

This time, she fully turned to face him, brows knitted in distress. “Then how did you mean it? Because honestly I don’t think there is another way to mean it.”

This was his only chance, Harry knew it.

“I just, I tried for so long to tell myself it was wrong to feel this way about you because you’re so much younger than me, and m’pretty sure your father would have my head if he knew but m’fucking infatuated with you, Y/N. M’so sorry I said that earlier, age is my only excuse for not asking you out and it’s not a good enough excuse anymore.”

With this her mouth was gaped like a fish, and her face was akin to a deer caught in headlights. In a flash her arms were wrapped around his neck and he was holding her waist, reveling in her touch.

“Oh, Harry,” She pulled away. “I really like you too.” And with that she pressed a swift kiss to his cheek, leaving him a blushing mess.

“Good, thats... thats good.” He stammered.

“So,” she nudged his arm. “Y’gonna ask me out now?”

#wow this was so rushed #not long at all either #but the first part had been sitting in my drafts for months #so here ya go #Harry Styles #harry styles one shot #harry styles fluff #harry styles angst #harry styles imagine #harry styles x reader

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tedesquire · 4 years ago

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Hey I saw your requests were open! I was wondering if you could do a gender neutral reader insert for Bill? Like the reader is more punk/goth and paints their nails and Bill is curious about it so they paint their nails together? Thanks for taking the time to write and take requests! :)

Bring Back Manly Men (Headcanon)

Gender Neutral! Reader/Bill

Typical to 80′s fashion, nail polish ads targeted towards women usually ranged from a spectrum of nudes, peaches, bronze, bronze, light pinks, hot pinks, violets, reds, maroons, purples.

These were the colors Missy often seemed to go for on the Preston family’s rare outings, so Bill hadn’t really given deep thought to the possibilities of other colors.

Nevermind the fact that Bill doesn’t really think deeply about anything other than Wyld Stallyns and his friendship with Ted.

However, he suddenly started paying attention when Best’s Magazine came out with a new issue that featured Steven Tyler with painted nails on the cover.

If an absolute rock legend such as Steven Tyler could wear nail polish, why couldn’t he?

Of course, he wasn’t sure where to go to buy black nail polish and if Ted couldn’t tell him (which he couldn’t) then Bill was out of luck.

That is, until he saw you.

Bill noticed the dark tint of your nails and it took him a moment to come up with enough courage to ask you where you got the polish.

You wanted to be skeptical... Why was Bill Preston of all people talking to you, let alone asking about your nail polish?

“Mervyn’s.” You replied. “...Why?”

“To have the best band in the world.” Bill answered, as if it was obvious. You weren’t able to make the connection and let the conversation end there.

The next day at school, you noticed Bill stumbling late for your shared class together, acting nervous with his hands held firmly in his pockets.

“Mr. Preston, would you like to participate in class today?” Your history teacher snidely remarked, much to Bill’s chagrin. The boy hesitantly took his hands out of his pocket, revealing a pair of thin, winter gloves.

“Mr. Preston, would you like to take off the gloves?” Bill huffed, his cheeks pinking as all eyes met his figure. One the offending items were removed your teacher sighed heavily, eyes raking over the bandages wrapped all around his hands.

“Get into an accident, Mr. Preston?”

“Yes, sir.”

“And how exactly did you manage to injure both your hands?”

“He cut them!” Ted offered, making Bill’s eyes twitch. “On the washing machine?”

“Trying to fix the washing machine.” Bill tried to correct.

“And no blood on your bandages? Well Mr. Preston, I think your injury has distracted the class long enough. I expect these worksheets to be done by the end of class.”

“Yes, sir.” You saw Ted pick up Bill’s paper, trying his best to follow along and help his friend out.

“Hey,” you whispered, having finally found a moment in the lecture to try and talk to Bill. “What really happened to your hands?”

Bill looked around, making sure no one was looking to peel some of the bandages back to reveal black paint stained on his fingernails down to his middle knuckles.

“I tried to paint them but my hands were too shaky but then it wouldn’t come off.” He fidgeted, looking shameful. “I don’t know what I’m gonna do.”

Your heart went out to the dim blonde, and you sighed, wondering if you were going to regret what you were about to say.

“Swing by my house after school, I can fix them for you.”

“Really?” You nodded, eyeing your teacher’s back to make sure you weren’t going to get caught. You scribbled your address on a piece of paper for him.

You weren’t sure why he wanted to paint his nails so badly, but nonetheless, you felt the urge to help him.

As much as Ted wished to tag along, he knew his dad would kill him if he so much saw a drop of paint on his son’s nails, and he didn’t mind some alone time with Missy as she dropped him off, so he opted out of the experience.

“Oh god.” You mumbled as you peeled off the last layer of bandages. It really was a mess. The two of you sat on your bed, soft music playing through your radio.

“So,” You opened your bottle of acetate, a chemical scent sweeping through your nostrils. “Why do you want to paint your nails anyway?” You worked on cleaning the goop off his nails.

Trying not to move his hand, he gently leaned over to the side of your bed and unzipping his backpack, revealing the rolled up copy of Best.

“Oh! Is that what you were trying to go for?”

“Trying, at least. Ted tried to help as well but...” His free hand went to scratch the back of his neck.

“It takes a bit of practice.” You patted his hand, trying to encourage him. “It’s nice, every once and a while, to try and treat yourself by painting your nails.” He hummed in agreement.

“You know, It’s not just Steven Tyler,” you mention, ignoring his wincing as you pushed his cuticles back. “David Bowie paints his nails, Ozzy Osbourne, and so does Freddie Mercury! Although, he only paints his left hand since he’s right-handed.”

“Most excellent.” Bill was caught off guard. He supposed he wasn’t as caught up with the rock world as he thought.

“I’m surprised you wanted to do this.” You mumbled, clipping his nails. “Most guys wouldn’t be caught dead. And.. aren’t you afraid that people will call you.. names? Most of our classmates may not be as progressive as you are.” You unscrewed the nail polish cap

“Well... Ted is the only person I hang out with, and you’re my friend now, right? For doing this?” You met his gaze and nodded, enjoying his candor. “So if I only care about you two, then what does it matter? The only negative consequence I can think of is how it will affect our band, but if anything, we’ll be even more bodacious than we already are!” He concluded.

“I think you’re on to something there, Preston. Most of those guys became famous because they didn’t let bias or other people’s judgement define them. They were just themselves. You finally finished, picking up his palm and admiring the work.

“What do you think?” You asked.

“Wow. I- This is most resplendent.” He gushed, lifting his hands to get a better look.

“Be careful not to touch anything, the paint still isn’t dry.” He nodded, slowly getting off your bed to head to the mirror in your room.

He almost forgot you were there, getting so engrossed in posing his hands and recreating the magazine’s picture, until you awkwardly cleared your throat.

“You.... want a picture? Like Steven’s?” You asked, opening one of your drawers to reveal a polaroid.

“Really?”

“Yeah, for your band, right?”

“O..okay.” Bill couldn’t suppress the smile, backing up towards your wall and lying his hands on his face.

“3...2...1...” click. “There you go.” Bill looked quite nice, and you couldn’t help but feel proud that you helped him be able to feel this way.

“Here, you keep it.” Bill handed the picture back to you. “You can be the first.”

“First?” You questioned. “First what? First fan?”

“No! The first stylist! We’ll be sure to mention you when we go on talk shows and perform concerts.” He answered, his confidence making you smile.

The moment was broken by the honking of a car outside.

“Oh! That’s probably Missy. Thank you for helping me! I’ll see you tomorrow?” Bill gently but quickly gathered his stuff, standing by your doorway.

“Yeah, I’ll see you tomorrow Bill.” He smiled, leaving your eyeline as he traversed downstairs.

You looked down at the polaroid, still in your hands and smiled softly. You had a feeling you weren’t going to regret being Bill’s friend.

#bill and ted #bill and teds bogus journey #keanu reeves #ted theodore logan #bill and ted face the music #gender nuetral reader #bill x reader #bill and ted fanfiction #bill s preston esquire #bill s preston esquire/reader #bill preston x reader #bill Preston/reader #bill s Preston esquire x reader #bill and ted imagines #bill and ted imagine

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carolmaximoffs · 4 years ago

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HAPPY BIRTHDAY CAIT OMFG i can’t believe so many of the coolest ppl in my life that i know are aquas. ily you’re NINETEEN that’s wild!! you know i love a good roommates or friends w benefits fic gimme gimme gimme 😗💜

a/n: THIS IS SO LATE AGH...here is your long overdue wanda x reader roommates fic, my love! so sorry for the wait, but thank you for your sweet words and your patience <3 @subtlebucky

pairing: wanda maximoff x reader

warnings: none really? maybe a curse. references to drinking, partying. jealous! reader. apologies to anyone named jillian, beck, or yasmine. sharing a bed, but not in THAT way.

WHEN YOU WAKE UP, you smell coffee already brewing. You stretch leisurely as you pad into the main part of your shared apartment, faux-flirtatious smile already gracing your lips.

“Smells good, baby!” You call. The laughter dissipates from your body as you pause in the kitchen doorway. Wanda is indeed sipping coffee in the kitchen, but is also standing between the legs of a tall, rather buff girl you’ve never seen before who’s perched comfortably on your island. “Oh.”

"Jill, this is my roommate, Y/N," Wanda says, perfectly at ease. You wonder if your eye really does twitch at the sight of Wanda's hand on Jill's thigh, but you pray it's just your imagination.

“Hi, uh, I didn’t - we’re not - hi.” Your face burns as you duck past them, reaching up into the cabinet for your mug before realizing it’s missing. You whirl around, about to ask Wanda, when you see it. And Wanda must realize it the same time you do, because she gives you this tight smile and wide eyes. Jill sips idly from your favorite cup, the one with the funny handle and your initial in rainbow gradient. Pietro, Wanda’s brother, had gifted it to you a few Christmas’s back - you know he’d have stopped Jillian from using it. Instead, you fill the most boring mug you and Wanda own - black, with a white outline of Sokovia in a red heart - and send your roommate a sour look. “I’ll just...”

You jerk your head towards the bedrooms, and stalk off. Maybe out of embarrassment, but mostly out of stubbornness, you pretend not to hear Wanda apologizing and making excuses on your behalf as you leave.

.......

Two weeks later, just when things are returning to normal, it happens again.

Well, more or less. It’s significantly darker out now, and this time you’re putting leftover Chinese food in the fridge when the door bursts open. Wanda all but falls into your apartment, a sharp-nosed girl with a deep violet buzzcut hot on her heels. Space Army Cadet and your best friend are hand in hand, the latter barely tossing you a glance as she drags her guest down the hall. And yeah, you’ve seen Wanda bring people home before - even brought a handful of people home yourself. Hell, one of you two’s closest friends was an ex of hers; oddball physics major, Vis, had been Wanda’s lover for the notable first three years of college.

Lately, though, you’d noticed this...pit in your stomach, carved a little deeper with each new bedmate. Every time you shook it off - it wasn’t any of your business what Wanda did in her free time. Was it because they were women? You catch yourself wondering, but no - you’d never had an issue with that, why would you start now? Shutting the fridge, you shuffle back to your room, turning your TV up to drown out anything from Wanda’s room next door.

The next morning, the eccentric friend is nowhere to be found, but you did find there was a severe lack of alcohol in your coffee as Wanda cheerily filled you in. Buzzcut’s name was Yasmine, she was in Wanda’s European lit. course, and they’d gone out for drinks to celebrate Yasmine nearing the acquirement of her masters. You stare into your cup and hum at all the appropriate points, choosing not to point out that it was only November and nowhere near graduating season. Maybe Yasmine was on the fast track - Wanda always did like the smart ones.

You become so absorbed in thought you don’t notice at first that your housemate has stopped chittering away. When you look up, it’s to a pouty frown. You shift in your seat, suddenly uncomfortable. “What?”

“Are you...okay?” Wanda’s frown deepens, brows furrowed as she brushes a stray lock of auburn from her face and folds her arms over her chest. “We...You’ve been a little distant lately, I guess.”

“I’m fine,” You say breezily, rising to your feet to dump the dregs of your coffee in the sink. Some irritating heartstring twangs at your tone - you hate brushing Wanda off, but what are you supposed to say? Hey, can you stop bringing girls home? I think I’ve caught homophobia. You repress a shudder at the mere thought as you move to sweep past her and get ready for your first class, but a small hand curls around your bicep.

“Just...don’t be a stranger, okay, kedvesem?” Darling. Swallowing the lump in your throat, feeling curiously parched, you can only nod. Wanda lets go, but you can feel her fingerprints burning like a brand even when you’re lying in bed that night.

.....

The holidays go off more or less without a hitch; there’s a very scary hiccup shortly before Christmas when you come home to find Wanda curled into Vision’s side on the couch, the pair of them sharing a blanket. But Wanda looks...as if she’s been crying? Love Actually is playing, Wanda’s go to Christmas comfort movie, and Vision is texting someone called ‘Peter M.’ with an alarming number of heart emojis, so you continue onward.

Your subconscious must be looking out for you otherwise, because it’s not until New Year’s that you see Wanda with a mystery lover. Actually, you don’t see much of Wanda at all outside of Christmas, and even when you do, it’s always just the two of you at home. Of course, because of this, she insists on dragging you out for a New Year’s party. When her twin, Pietro, gangs up on you via Facetime, you give up arguing and steal a shimmery black slip from Wanda’s closet before flipping them the bird.

Pietro arrives around 10 to pick the pair of you up, obnoxiously laying on the horn outside of your apartment building. Wanda trips several times as she tries to shove on her other heel and put lipstick on at the same time. Making it out the door is a whole other ordeal - after a short spat about Wanda needing a jacket, an awkward moment when the elevator doors open on some neighbors practicing for midnight, and finding Pietro just about to buzz in to get you, you and Wanda are sliding into the backseat of Pietro’s obnoxiously cramped sports car.

“Ladies, your prince, or princess, awaits!” Pietro announces grandly as you pull up to a shabby loft just a few blocks away. You can hear the music from the street, sighing inwardly as you force yourself to get out of the car. Wanda smooths out her flowy black pants - you keep your eyes trained politely above her shoulders to ignore the fitted, maroon sequined top with the plunging V-neck she’s paired with them.

“I’m actually meeting someone here,” She says casually to her brother as the three of you make your way in. Pietro waves her off with well-wishes, but throws you a questioning glance. All he gets however is a shrug in reply, this is certainly news to you. He accompanies you to the makeshift bar where you fill a cup with copious amounts of liquor. It usually wasn’t your vice, but the strobe lights alone could be cause to drink. You made a mental note to ask whose idea this party even was in the first place. when you turn around, though, Pietro, too, has slipped off into the crowd.

So you do what one is supposed to do at sweaty, too-loud functions such as this one - push yourself from your comfort zone, get comfortably tipsy while you wedge yourself into the mass of bodies and move with strangers. As mentioned, liquor and strangers have never been favorite pastimes of yours, so once you finish off your second drink (maybe third - you deserved it), you set out searching for Wanda. Her glittery form is tucked into a corner with a small group you don’t recognize, but you definitely note that she’s in the lap of a tall, dark, and handsome type. She spots you before you can get to her, making excited grabby hands as you get closer.

“Y/N!” The bubbly young woman squeals over the music. She leans forward to be heard better, and you gulp. “This is Beck! And Jade, and Marcie, and you remember Yasmine!”

You offer only a wave and tight smiles as you, too, lean in further. “I’m gonna get an Uber!”

“What?” Wanda pouts dramatically, Beck snaking an arm around her waist to steady her as she jolts back in disappointment. “It’s not even midnight yet!”

“No, I know, I’m just not really feeling it, I guess!” Yasmine leads over to whisper something to Jade; it’s the furthest thing from your mind as Wanda reaches out to squeeze your hands understandingly.

“I’ll see you later! Kisses!” You repeat the word weakly before shoving once more through the mass. The sidewalk and cool bite of the outdoors is a welcome respite - your driver doesn’t speak all the way to your apartment, and you give them 5 stars for it. After a cold, quick shower, you curl up in your fuzziest bathrobe with a cup of coffee and flick through Netflix. You know when midnight rolls around when the neighbors upstairs, hosting a party of their own, cheer and shout to each other. It can’t be 20 minutes later that your door is met with a tentative knock.

On the other side is Vision in the most disarray you’ve seen him in - he’s in pajamas, for Pete’s sake, hair and glasses askew over a chunky knit sweater. He’s supporting an equally-bleary but much more drunk Wanda, and passes her to you with a wrinkled nose.

“Y/N!” She crows, dissolving into giggles as you shushed her. “I wondered where you went.”

“I told you I was coming home, bubs,” You mutter, hugging her back briefly before you notice Vision is still standing in your entryway. “Hey, how about you go get changed, and then I’ll make you some eggs?”

Wanda agrees, talking animatedly even as she walks away. You look back at Vision, smiling wearily. “Thanks for bringing her home safe, Vis. Did you want a cup of coffee, or...?”

“No, thank you,” Vision quips, polite as ever as he tugs his sweater down over his hands. He jerks his dimpled chin the direction Wanda had disappeared in. “Take care of her, please.”

“Of course,” You reply, instantly, brows furrowing. He nods briskly before turning to leave. “Thank you again.”

“Of course. Goodnight.” He’s almost to the elevators when you call a ‘Happy New Year’ after him, and that earns you a smile. “Happy New Year to you as well, Y/N.”

Back inside, you find Wanda spread eagle on her bed in mismatched socks, an old college hoodie, and the same underwear you’re pretty sure she wore to go out tonight. You poke her heel and she makes a frankly unhuman gurgle into the duvet. “How much did you have?”

“Nah a lah,” Is her muffled reply. “We’on dwink anymo’.”

You realize she’s right, though you figured she was at least taking some of those dates to bars. Maybe not, though - Wanda was always a romantic. You push the mere though away and tug at the arm closest to you. “Yeah, I know. You’ll feel better if you eat something, though.”

Her protesting grunts are less effective than when she kicks out blindly, narrowly avoiding your hip, and you huff. “Fine, I’ll bring the food to you.” You make to leave, but she’s captured your wrist now. Wanda turns her head to make powerful puppy eyes at you. “Stay. Sleepy.”

“I...yeah. Okay.” You were still a little tipsy in your own right - neither of you were college kids anymore, after all. Wanda’s smile was blinding as the pair of you made your way under her numerous layers of blankets. When she turned the lamp off, you wondered if she could hear your heart thundering in the dark.

“Y/N?” She whispers, just when you think she’s fallen asleep.

“Yes, Wanda?”

“I love you.”

You hum in acknowledgment, brushing it off as dreaming.

--------

Midday, you’re roused by someone laying across your stomach and shaking you awake. It’s Wanda, long lashes fluttering prettily as she rests her chin on folded elbows. You scrub sleep from your eyes as you croak, “Morning, sunshine.”

“Morning, Y/N.” She says your name with purpose - sort of always has, you realize. You’re running over last night in your head, and like a mind reader, Wanda answers your every question. “Hey.”

“Yeah?”

“Still love you.” Wanda murmurs. You meet her gaze - completely clear, if not a little glazed over with absolute adoration. She pushes up a little, lips hovering over yours. They brush just barely when you speak, sparking like live wires.

“I love you, too,” You breathe, and finally, finally, she kisses you.

Things make so, so much more sense then.

#multiverse level: wanda maximoff goes on a date w/ beck from victorious #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x you #wanda x reader #wanda maximoff fluff #wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff angst #wanda maximoff imagine #wanda maximoff one shot #carolmaximoffs #wanda x vision #vision

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wtfevenismypage · 4 years ago

Text

Maroon

request: Hey, could you do a Spence request where you're all at Rossi's mansion for the weekend for poker, pasta and cigars. Spence is getting Rossi's place ready with him, and the guys and won't shut up about how much he fancies you, and the guys all encourage him to tell you and you're at Emily's with the girls getting in the car for the weekend. They know how you feel about him, and how he feels about you. One evening, you're all super drunk and Spence blurts out his feelings for you. 🥰💕🥰

Warnings:Strong language, Pure fluffieness

A/N: This idea was absolutely adorable! I had a lot of fun writing it down!

Spencer wasn’t exactly subtle about his feelings towards you, anytime you were around, all he could focus on was you, the way your nose scrunched up when you laughed, the face of euphoria you made when you eat McDonald's after a long day, the frustration that exuded when you had a disagreement with Hotch (you’re the only one with the balls to argue with him) but he ended up ordering you to give up.

The only person on the team who didn’t know about Spencer’s love for you, was, well, you. You were too busy trying to keep your eyes off of him to notice his endearment for you. You had the same issue Spencer had, only you noticed how he tended to dart his tongue over his lips when he got nervous, or when he smiled at the sight of Henrey or Jack, the way he stuttered when he rambled around you, or the passion in his eyes when he talked about his mom.

Spencer didn’t exactly appreciate when the other members of the team teased him about his love for you, so when he got trapped with the men, getting ready for a party at Rossi’s mansion he tried to keep silent as to not drag attention to himself.

It didn’t work.

“I wonder if Y/N will wear a dress or a suit?”

Morgan spoke out, smirking at how Spencer’s cheeks turned bright red at just the mention of your name alone.

“I think she’ll wear a dress, you know she loves them, even if she wears suits to work. what do you think Reid?”

Rossi asked, all eyes turned to a blushing Spencer who was making fruit punch. He was avoiding eye contact, stuck at the thought of you in a dress, or a floral suit you would wear to a bar, either way you were stunning to him.

“She’ll wear a suit, she’s more comfortable in them, a dress makes her feel too fancy, she admires the idea of wearing dresses, but she doesn’t wear them because she doesn’t want people to view her as too feminine for being an agent. So she’ll wear a suit, most likely a black coat with a floral dress shirt and floral pants.”

He didn’t even notice the wide smile on his face that slowly spread as he spoke about you. He was lost in thought until Morgan and Hotch’s laughs brought hime back to the present.

“Dude, you are whipped for her.”

Spencer’s brows furrowed, stammering as his voice goes up five octaves.

“Shut up Morgan! I’m not!”

“You are! You’ve been staring at her for years! Every time she’s in the same room as you you just stare like a lovesick maniac! I mean come on man! You gotta tell her!”

“Reid, do you love Y/N?”

Spencer doesn’t even know how to answer Hotch’s question. Did he love you? He knew he liked you at least, but he wasn’t sure if he was ready to admit he was in love again. He hadn’t said it since Maeve... However, just by thinking of you again, he was sure.

“I do...”

--At Emily’s apartment (the girls)--

“I do! I love it so much! Thank you Penelope!”

Penelope had purchased personally designed dresses made for each of the women, yours was a simple, dark maroon silk dress, it ended right above your knees, flowing freely around your cleavage.

“I knew you would like it!”

“It kind of reminds me of that red suit that Spencer wore to Rossi’s party at that one bar that one time, remember that?”

The girls look at you confused, No one has ever remembered every outfit Spencer has worn, except for Spencer.

“You seriously don’t remember? C’mon! That was one of his best looks!”

“I beg of you just confess your undying love for him tonight.”

You click your tongue. The girls were more straight-forward with you than how the men were with Spencer, yes they teased you endlessly, but they also begged you to confess your love to him constantly. Sometimes they would even text you on the jet when you were sitting right next to him.

“Can’t. You see, Spencer’s an intelligent man, he would know that I’m lying.”

Groans all around the room. You, unlike Spencer, are great at hiding your feelings for the man as long as the man himself is no where to be seen. However if he was around, you became a rambling mess, Spencer just thought you were embarrassed that everyone was insisting you liked him.

“C’mon Y/N, you may be able to hide it when Dr. Genius isn’t around, but honey oh honey you do not see yourself when he’s around. You get all blushy and flustered and it’s adorable and it’s killing me that you won’t admit it!”

“I’m very sorry for killing you my dearest Penelope, but I can’t. Even if I did like him, which I don’t, I don’t even begin to compare to him in any way. He wouldn’t go for me if I were the last girl on earth.”

Your mood clearly decreased to a sad lump of emotion, your back slumping as you lean against a wall, looking down at your heels. No matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t stop loving him.

--At Rossi’s mansion (tha bois)--

“Oh my god we finally got him to admit it! You love Y/n Y/L/N!”

The men at Rossi’s mansion (which were somehow finished with getting the party ready) wouldn't stop messing with Young Dr. Reid. The poor man couldn’t even sit down without being teased.

“We finally did it boys! We got him to admit it!”

“Now we need him to tell her!”

That made Spencer’s head shoot up, confess to his friends that he loved you? Sure, why not. Tell you?

Abso-fucking-lutely not. He wasn’t even remotely ready for that.

“No. No! I’m not doing that! I can’t! Hotch, tell them I can’t!”

Hotch chuckles at the state of the fully grown man, the usually calm doctor had literal tears staining his eyes as he begged Hotch to stop Morgan and Rossi.

“Okay okay, leave Reid alone. The party hasn’t even started and He’s having a mental breakdown.”

A small ding rings out in the laughter of the men, Rossi pulls his phone out.

“Looks like the ladies are on their way over, finally, apparently there was a tiny issue so they might be a tiny bit late.”

--In Emily’s car (the ladies)--

“Intoxicate me now, with your loving now, I think I’m ready now...”

“I THINK I”M READY NOW!”

You and the rest of the women aggressively shouted the lyrics to Toxic while on the way to Rossi’s mansion. After your half-assed love confession to your girls, you had a nervous breakdown and broke out in tears for a solid ten minutes.

Penelope managed to get you up though, lifting your spirits with the power of Britney Spears.

JJ’s phone rings, and she pulls it up to her ear.

“Hey Hotch! Her outfit color? Why? Yeah it’s maroon, how did you-”

She pulls the phone away from her ear, looking at the rest of the dancing ladies. Y/n and Penelope were screaming random song lyrics while Emily records it, chuckling at the scene unfolding before her.

You weren’t even drunk yet and you were already excited, poker nights at Rossi’s were the best. He would select one person (occasionally two) to help him cook pasta, and cooking with him was super fun. Music would play in the background, making you drag random team members to the ‘dance floor’ and forcing them to dance with you.

They did end up enjoying dancing with you however, but they’ll never admit it.

“We’re almost there!”

--Rossi’s mansion (the entire team)--

“Oh boys! The party has arrived!”

Penelope yells out as the four of you walk in, champagne and beer resting in your hands. The others were probably in the kitchen, sat at the island as Rossi gets the ingredients for pasta out.

“We’re in the kitchen!”

You follow the sound of music and laughing Hotch to find three of four male team members sitting down. Spencer was missing. His absence immediately smacks the smile off of your face, looking around blankly for him.

“Where’s Reid?”

Smug, shit-eating smiles spread across everyone’s faces as you set the beer down, grabbing a handful of chips from a bowl and shoveling them down your throat.

“Pretty boy’s upstairs getting dressed. You gonna go join him?”

You fake a gag as a blush crawls up your neck. They didn’t know how much you actually wanted to.

If only I could...

You smirk before sitting down next to Hotch, bringing your hand to his hair and ruffling it around, laughing as he grimaces.

“Hotch, you should try new hairstyles. The ol’ sweep back look ain’t doing you justice.”

“I’ll wear my hair as I want to thank you very much. Now stop messing with it, as soon as Reid gets down here, he’s announcing who’s helping him cook.”

You giggle and pat the counter excitedly, looking at the ingredients Rossi’s pulling out.

“Those don’t look like ingredients for pasta Rossi...”

He looks up at JJ’s question, smiling with a wink.

“It’s not pasta. tonight we are making a classic Italian pepperoni pizza.”

‘ooooo’s and ‘aaaaaaa’s fill the room. Pizza sounded wonderful, especially considering all of the drinking you planned on doing tonight.

“We’re having pizza instead of pasta?”

Your head turned to the stairs to meet the excited voice of mystery. Your lungs froze as you meet Spencer’s eyes. He was wearing that damned velvet red suit that made you so excited.

It was as if the world had stopped when the two of you saw each other. He was adjusting his hair, but his hands pause when he sees you, he couldn’t stop the smile that spread when he noticed the colors of your outfits matched. It all clicked as to why Hotch and Morgan yelled at him to get back to his apartment to retrieve the suit.

Meanwhile you were struggling to tear your eyes away from him, you didn’t notice the matching velvet pieces, instead you noticed the stars in his eyes, the way he paused at the bottom of the stairs to smile at everyone, the happy smile that reached his starry eyes.

Neither of you noticed how everyone else snickered, or how they actually pulled their phones out, it wasn’t until Emily was shaking your shoulder and Morgan smacked the back of his head that you two snapped out of it, acting as if nothing happened and simply looked back at Rossi.

“Yep. And my helper will beeeeeeeeee...”

His finger moves around the room rapidly, before landing on you.

“Y/N.”

Groans and clapping fill the room as you walk to the other side of the island, wrapping an arm around Rossi.

“Alright, now the rest of you. Out.”

You say. laughing as they all leave, but you miss the way Spencer’s eyes travel over your body a final time before walking into the room with all the cold drinks.

“Alright,” you start, looking at Rossi with a wide smile, “Let’s get started.”

almost twenty minutes later you and Rossi were putting the uncooked pizza in the oven, the hooting and laughing of already-drunken FBI agents making you and Rossi laugh.

“Y’know, I’m shocked that Reid decided to drink. He never drinks around us.”

You say, smiling while watching the pizza darken. More accurately, Reid never drank around you in fear that Drunk Spencer would say something dumb. Or worse, that Drunk Spencer would confess his love for you.

“Yeah that is pretty weird.”

Rossi looked at you, you were laughing while watching him, a wide smile on your face as Emily and Spencer dance drunkenly together.

“So, just between you and I,” You turned to meet Rossi’s gaze, watching his shit-eating smirk spread, “How do you feel about the kid?”

You freeze up at the question, letting it bounce around in your brain as you watch Spencer laugh happily. Your heart ached at the sound of his gorgeous laugh. Like, it physically hurt.

“I love him... Oh god... I’m in love with him Rossi.”

You giggled a giggle of pure fear as you finally admit your love to yourself and to someone else. It felt scary, it felt so real all of the sudden.

“You finally admit it huh? Well, you should go after him before some other girl who isn’t nearly as brilliant as you sweeps him up.”

You laugh and shake your head, doubt swimming in your brain.

“Nah. There’s no way he would go for someone like me. He has three P.h.D’s and is literally a genius. meanwhile I can barely remember what I ate last night. It won’t happen.”

Rossi sighs. How dense could the two of you be? You two were in love with each other, yet you were so fucking blind.

Meanwhile in the other room, everyone was trying to get Reid to confess his love to you. He was like a drunken puppy that tried his best to listen to commands, but just couldn’t.

“Just go up to her and tell her you love her! I’ll steal her away if you don’t.”

That was Emily.

“Nooooooo! Don’t touch her! I love heeeeeeer!”

Spencer cried out from the floor. He was laid out like a starfish with an empty beer can in his hands. He didn’t know why he started drinking, but once he started, he couldn’t stop.

“Then gooooo!”

Spencer stood reluctantly, groaning as they all pushed him towards the kitchen.

You and Rossi watched in shock as Spencer ran into the kitchen, breaking out into tears when he met your eyes.

“Woah woah woah... What’s wrong Spencer?”

You ask, mama mode taking over at the sight of his tears. However you really weren’t expecting what happened next.

“Y/N!”

He yelled out before running into you, falling onto his knees before you while clutching your lower back and resting his head on your tummy.

“Wha-”

“I looooooooove you! ‘m in looooooooooooove with you!”

You froze up, not noticing how everyone was recording this from the couch, Rossi clamping a hand on your shoulder. You just kept petting his hair as he sobbed against your stomach.

“Hey, Spencer, bud, why don’t you stand up and tell her properly?”

He listens to Rossi’s advice, standing on his feet and grabbing your face in his hands before leaning in.

“What-”

He cuts you off with his lips, melding the two of you together as everyone cheers and claps. You were momentarily frozen, but you quickly kissed him back. You were eager to take whatever love you could get from him, even if he doesn’t remember in the morning.

When he pulls away, you simply stare in shock as he tries to pull you away from the kitchen, your gaze flashes over to Rossi, who simply ushers you off with the young genius.

“C’mon! We gotta get out of here!”

You giggled and laughed the entire train ride back to Spencer’s apartment, cuddling in his bed the entire night.

You weren’t sure what was going to happen in the morning, you only knew that you were spending tonight in his arms.

“Hey Spencer?”

“Yeah?”

“I love you too.”

He smiles against your skin, pulling you closer against his bare chest. He was warm against your semi-cold skin, making you smile into his neck.

You really didn’t want this moment to end ever.

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ldgsfk · 2 years ago

Text

All her classmates have left. There is only her and the desks and the blackboard and her many many colored pencils. But that is okay.

She is never alone.

She chooses a maroon colored pencil this time. It is #800000. It reminds her of Erna. It is a good pencil. It will slay the dragon that is homework. She never did get why she must show her work when she already knows the answer, but that seems to be how thing-

The classroom door creaks open, and two guys, one a dyed-blond and the other raven-headed, pop their head in. She feels their gazes as they make their way towards the desks.

Did they walk into the wrong room? Or maybe they are also here to see the teacher? They stop in front of her desk and watch her, but she is busy. She is doing the homewor-

An arm sweeps her books and pencils onto the floor.

...

She lifts her head to look at the pair, only to find a blond grinning with teeth bare. He also has a very big bruise across his cheek and nose. It is a very strange look. It is not cute at all, not like panda.

“You trying to ignore us? Don’t you know who we are?” the blond asked.

She does not. She shakes her head.

He sputters for a bit, and the raven-headed boy speaks instead, “Your sister beat up the wrong peop-”

“Shut up! That bitch only caught me off-guard!” The blond shoves his companion to the side and slams both hands onto her desk , “Your damn sister hit me and now she’s too scared to come to school. So guess who’s gonna pay in her place?”

She does not know the answer to this question.

...She should probably go pick up her pencils. She turns to th-

Smack!

She feels a faint burning sensation on her cheek, but before she could even process the feeling, she is yanked forward by one of her bangs.

“Fucking look at me when I talk to you!”

---

“AAAAAAAAHHHHHH!”

#violence tw //#not visible ic

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juniorgman187 · 4 years ago

Text

2 Truths & a Lie (Spencer Reid Imagine)

Summary: A game of “Strip 2 Truths and a Lie” helps heats things up between SSA Reader and Spencer.

Prompt: “Ladies first.” Couple: Spencer Reid x Female Reader Category: Fluff Content Warning: Alcohol consumption, stripping Word count: 3.5k

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

“Strip poker!” Garcia slurred. “Let’s play! Let’s play! Let’s play!”

You had to interject. “No way! If Reid’s playing - I’m not. That’s so unfair.”

Morgan agreed with you. “Yeah, I’m with Hot Stuff over here. He’s banned from three casinos for a reason.”

All eyes turned to the aforementioned man, whose smug smile reached from ear to ear. “Fair enough. What can we play then?” He asked.

It was your turn to scream like a giddy Garcia. “Two truths and a lie!” You jumped up from your seat on the floor. “It’s totally fair cause we’re all profilers here. So it’ll either show how good of a liar you are or show how good of a profiler you are.”

“Excuse me, Girl Goddess. Need I remind you - I’m not a profiler.” Garcia butted in.

JJ made a disapproving noise against the brim of her red solo cup. “Hey, hey, hey - you’re like the first to tell when someone’s hiding something.”

Garcia simply smiled at this. “Ah, you’re right, Jayje.”

So it was settled. You and the BAU were gonna play “Strip 2 Truths and a Lie.”

But to make things a little more interesting, you changed up the rules.

The order the players would take turns went in a clockwise circle. Garcia, Morgan, Reid, you, Prentiss, and JJ. (Hotch and Rossi bailed last minute. Apparently, being invited to Garcia’s wasn’t an offer they couldn’t refuse.)

Instead of players guessing what the lie was and stopping once someone guessed correctly, you were all going to guess at the same time. Garcia took the liberty of handing each of your sticky notes and once the player said their two truths and one lie, you would write your guess on your post-it and put it in a pile for the “liar” to read.

Then the “liar” would declare who was stripping based on who guessed incorrectly. And just for some more fun - the “liar” wouldn’t explicitly tell what the real lie was. You profilers would just have to use context clues to do that.

Since each player was guessing on post-its, Garcia gave you each a different color to distinguish who guessed what. Granted, it was Garcia, so she had every shade of the rainbow. She gave herself the red, Reid got the orange, you got yellow, Prentiss - green, Morgan got blue. And JJ - purple.

“I’m first!” Garcia sing-songily said. “Alright - I had a guinea pig named Cerulean when I was little . . . my mom knew how to juggle, andddd, OH! I lost my virginity to a guy I met online with the gamer tag ‘FastAndFurious79.”

Morgan almost spat out the drink he was nursing from his shock at the last one. “Babygirl, you did what?!” The pitch of his voice sent the rest of you into a frenzy as you each wrote your guesses on your sticky note pads.

You guessed the lie was the guinea pig. And using your peripherals, you saw that Prentiss thought the same. You folded your yellow sticky note and placed it in the center. Eventually, when the rainbow was complete, Garcia began reading them. “I hate you guys! It’s no fun being friends with profilers.” She pouted.

“You lost your virginity to a guy with the gamertag ‘fast and furious?!” Morgan screeched. You and the team laughed so hard, your stomach started hurting.

The game continued for an entire round until it was Morgan’s second turn.

“Alright, growing up my favorite movie was Kindergarten Cop . . . um, I used to be a lifeguard, and my body count is higher than my age.”

Reid was quick to jot down his answer, but you took a little time with yours.

“What’s the problem, Hot Stuff?” Morgan teased.

“Mmm, I dunno. You’ve genuinely got me stumped on this one.” You admitted. Morgan just shot you that infomercial worthy grin as a response.

Hesitantly, you finally wrote down that he was lying about his favorite moving being Kindergarten Cop. Your sticky note was the last to go in the pile, so you just handed yours to Morgan to speed up the process. He chuckled while going through most of them and looked back up at all of you with that same smug look Reid had earlier.

“Looks like Pretty Boy and Hot Stuff are the first to strip tonight!” He declared, making you roll your eyes.

“Your body count isn’t higher than your age?!” Reid squeaked. Morgan laughed and shook his head no. Now that - that was shocking.

“Alright, what can I take off that counts?” You clarified.

“Any piece of clothing that covers your legs, arms, and torso.” Morgan happily informed.

It wasn’t fair. On a normal workday, you would have a blazer, pants, or sometimes a skirt, and a blouse or shirt underneath, but today was collectively your guys’ day off - so you only had on a fitted tee and jeans. Whereas the genius to the right of you wore a sweater vest, button-up, tie, belt, and his pants. Before, you would make fun of him for wearing so much on a day off, but now you were envious.

“Not fair! He’s got like 80 pieces of clothing on.” You whined. The rest of the group, including Reid, laughed at you. Not a single one of them offered mercy. Looks like you were just gonna have to strip off what little clothes you were wearing.

“Ladies first.”

Reid teased as if he was being a gentleman by saying this. His voice made it sound so subtly seductive that your cheeks heat up. He even said it with the side of his mouth, making his plump lips form a smirk.

You raised your brows at his cockiness. You wanted to make him eat his words, so you stood up - first, unbuttoning your jeans painfully slow. All eyes were on you as you stuck your thumbs inside the waistband and wiggled your hips, while simultaneously pulling your jeans down. You made a little show out of it, milking the situation. You dragged the denim down while arching your back to flaunt your butt as it was unhurriedly revealed. And just for fun, you angled yourself, where Reid could get the full view. When your jeans dropped to your ankles, you stepped out of them, bent over to retrieve them, and for a finishing touch - you dropped them right onto Reid’s lap.

“They don’t call me Hot Stuff for nothing.” You flirtatiously remarked.

“WOO-HOO-HOO! That was sexy, Mamas!” Morgan cheered. The girls all had faces of admiration or surprise on them - mainly admiration. Whereas Reid appeared like he’d just discovered porn or something - like a whole world of possibilities opened up.

“Hello? Earth to Dr. Reid?” You joked, sitting back down beside him.

When you felt the floor’s rug against your thong, it shocked you a little, so you moaned at the feeling. Not loud enough for everyone to hear over their laughs and cheers but just loud enough for Reid to. And he most certainly did. Because you caught his tongue sweeping over his lips while his eyes looked at yours. If you weren’t in a group setting, you would’ve straddled him right then and there and kissed him, but you weren’t gonna lose control like that. The question was - would he? And secretly - you were hoping he would.

“Wow, Y/N. You’ve rendered him speechless. I don’t think that’s ever happened before,” Prentiss quipped. “You should do that more often.” Everyone erupted into another fit of laughter.

Reid shook his head as if to re-enter reality. “I, uh, I - I’m just gonna take off my belt.” He concluded, fiddling nervously with the buckle.

“Need some help there?” Before you even finished the question, you put your small fingers around the clasp, making him shiver.

“N-no!” He whimpered, grabbing your wrists in one hand and moving them away from his groin. He continued to unbuckle it and neatly place it behind him.

The game continued on for many more minutes with Morgan losing his shirt and consequently, Garcia losing her shit (which was understandable because Morgan was RIPPED.) JJ removed her belt, while Garcia took off her cropped cardigan. Prentiss was the only one left who was fully clothed, while you and Reid still hadn’t lost any more articles of clothing since the initial time you did.

“Alright, alright! Me again!” Garcia giggled, while she downed the rest of whatever was in that red solo cup. “Let’s see. Oh, I got it! Okay, my hair has been dyed every color except for green, I’m the president of a secret club for people that love sea otters, and I’ve had sex more times on the floor than in the bed.” She squealed.

You weren’t buying that she’s never dyed her hair green, and after a quick side glance to the right, you saw that Reid didn’t buy it either. You folded the paper over your answer and placed it confidently in the center - waiting patiently for the verdict. Garcia zealously scooped up all the post its and scrutinized them. “Uh oh, I think Boy Wonder and Girl Goddess might be out of a job once Sir Hotch finds out how bad they are at detecting lies!” Garcia got so excited she started jumping up and down. You pouted and faked sobs once you heard this.

“Take it off! Take it off! Take it off!” The group started cheering.

Just to be the center of attention once more, you stood up and put your right hand under the hem of the left side of your shirt, and you put your left hand under the hem of the right side of your shirt, making your arms cross over your tummy. You pulled the shirt up (sucking in your gut once it was uncovered) all the way until it was finally over your head. You were left in your maroon push up bra and your black lacy thong - a set that didn’t match, but when you looked down at yourself, looked decently good together.

The “crowd” gasped at your figure in its entirety. Encouraging words were spewed at you, making you smile.

“Alright, your turn.” You nudged Reid. He simply slipped off his sweater vest, quite ungracefully might you add. But little did you know that he lost all coordination after seeing you so bare.

“Here.” He whispered, removing his tie from his collar. He began unbuttoning his dress shirt, which you didn’t understand why, until he shrugged it off of himself and helped you into it. You weren’t surprised in the least when you saw that underneath his white button-up was a cotton tee. Of course, he had even more layers than you previously thought.

“Aww, look at that.” Prentiss said with awe at Reid’s actions.

While Reid rolled up the long sleeves until he saw your hands peek through, all you could manage to do was look at him. He bit his lip while he did this, showing how focused he was on the task. He was absolutely adorable.

“Do you want me to button it for you?” He quietly asked. You shook your head no. “It’s okay. Thank you.” If you could’ve seen yourself, you would’ve seen that your eyes had hearts in them. You were the epitome of lovesick.

“Yeah, of course.”

When he stopped helping you dress, you couldn’t help but notice the outfit he was left to wear. It was a plain white tee with gray dress pants and his classic black converse. How he managed to look so good in such a simple outfit was beyond you. It was quite unfair actually. You thought his normal quirky attire suit him pretty well but this outfit made you feel something you’d never felt before. Your eyes drifted up to his hair, which since he cut it last year, was growing out again but was still short. It was the perfect length and had a little curl and unruliness to it - just the way you liked. It looked so soft that you were overcome with a sudden overwhelming urge to run your fingers through it, but you willed yourself not to.

“I think someone’s in love over there.” Morgan pointed to you, making you snap out of your trance.

“What? NO!” You shrieked.

“Oh my god, you totally are.” Prentiss giggled.

“Somebody likes Reid.” JJ sing-songily teased before sipping at her drink and looking away.

“OK, enough with the crazy talk. We’re all a little too drunk to be making such claims.” You concluded. “I think maybe it’s time to go home.” You hastily said, trying to change the topic.

“Mmm-mmm,” Morgan disapprovingly shook his head. “None of us should be driving right now. Even Reid.” Reid looked slightly offended at the comment, but he couldn’t deny it. He’d only had one drink, but everyone knew Reid was a lightweight.

“Why don’t you guys just crash here?” Garcia slurred. No one objected, so the sleeping arrangement was made. Morgan and Garcia would sleep in Garcia’s bed. JJ on the beanbag. Prentiss on the loveseat. And you and Reid on the couch.

“Me and Reid?” You asked Garcia.

“Uh-huh,” She nodded rapidly. “You’ll fit. Just spoon!” She said with joyful elation.

“Uh ohh, Reid and Y/N sittin’ in a tree. C-U-D-D-L-I-N-G.” Morgan jested.

“Shut up!” Reid chucked a pillow at Morgan’s face - which he caught before it even touched his head. “Don’t worry, I’ll just sleep on the floor.” Reid told you.

“No, don’t be silly. We share the couch on the jet all the time.” You told him. Covertly, you were hoping he wouldn’t argue against it. There were certainly worse things you could do than cuddle with Reid. Just as you wanted, he didn’t contend.

“Here.” He handed you your jeans and t-shirt, which you took but didn’t put back on.

“Do you mind if I stay in this? There’s no way I can fall asleep in my jeans,” He blinked hard as if to process what you were saying but didn’t dispute. “I’ll be back.” You disclosed while walking to Garcia’s bathroom to put on your shirt and take off your bra. You came back out, feeling a cold breeze. Unbeknownst to you, the cold air hardened your nipples, but this was not lost on Reid. He let himself get a glimpse of the sight while he laid on the couch, waiting for you to join him.

“You’re really gonna sleep in your pants?” You asked him, not even trying to imply anything sexual.

“Would you mind if I took them off?” He shyly questioned.

You shook your head as if to say, “No, not at all.”

He slid them down before you took your spot on the couch. While Reid’s back was against the backrest, your back was right up against his chest. This was the position you’d normally be in if you were on the jet. Something that surprisingly - the team never teased you for. It was as if everyone just accepted it as something normal. Something totally natural.

Except in this instance, Garcia’s couch was surprisingly not as wide as the jet’s, so you had to scoot back a little to fit. However, you didn’t anticipate how close Reid already was to you. So when you backed up, (for lack of a better term) you made ass-to-dick contact.

“Oh my God! I’m so sorry!” You nervously blurted. Reid uncomfortably laughed it off.

“No, no. You’re fine.” He reassured you. It was enough to convince you to settle back down and cuddle up to Reid again.

Despite doing this countless amounts of times before, there was something about this time that made you feel differently. You thought that your heart might sooner beat out of your chest. The rhythm vibrated through your entire body, and you honestly worried that the beat was so loud that Reid could hear it. After 30 minutes of this, the whole house was knocked out - except for you. You harbored too much nervous energy to fall asleep.

“Are you feeling okay? You’re breathing really hard.” Reid murmured, his quiet voice shocking you. Damn it, he wasn’t asleep either? Leave it to him to pick up on your unnatural breathing patterns. You told Reid it was nothing, but he didn’t leave it alone. “How can I help you sleep?”Once more, you told him you were just fine. “Can I just try something? My mom used to do this for me when I couldn’t fall asleep,” You reluctantly agreed. “Turn around.” He softly commanded.

You did as asked, turning towards him. Now that you were face-to-face, Reid took his arm that was by his side before and put it over your body, with his hand on your back. You felt his warm touch move from between your shoulder blades, down your spine, all the way to the small of your back. He moved up and down repeatedly, sometimes adding pressure along the way. Your eyes closed at the pleasure.

“Does that feel good?” He asked sweetly, but even then, you couldn’t help but imagine him asking that same question in a very different scenario.

You couldn’t be bothered to speak real words, so you hummed in tranquility.

He kept doing this until he noticed your breathing started to slow down. It was working.

The last thought you had before falling asleep completely was of how you never wanted this moment to end.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

“How long should we wait until we wake them?” You heard JJ ask. Her voice seemed so distant for some reason. “Mmm, I give it five more minutes.” Morgan’s voice chirped. Now his voice seemed to be closer.

“Should I take another picture?” Garcia asked. Wait a minute - her voice was louder now too.

You groggily opened your eyes, wincing at the brightness of your surroundings.

“Oh, I think Hot Stuff’s awake.” Morgan’s words sobered you up enough to lift your head and examine your surroundings.

Reid’s face was buried into your chest, while your hand was in his hair. Your leg wrapped around Reid’s lower body, with his hand hooked on the back of your knee, hiking it up even further and keeping your leg in its place. You began realizing just how provocative the scene was, so you startled yourself out of it. Like the clumsy goof you are, you rolled out of Reid’s embrace, but with no extra space to roll over onto, you tumbled to the floor gracelessly. This woke up Reid and made the four viewers hovering over the couch die laughing.

“Not funny.” You groaned, clutching your side in pain after collapsing onto the floor.

“What happened?” Reid yawned.

“What happened was you and Hot Stuff got pretty comfortable on Garcia’s sofa.” Morgan sounded way too happy to tell Reid this.

You looked back at Reid with a frown, noticing how he looked like he was a child that had just been caught doing something bad.

“Maybe next time we play Strip 2 Truths and a Lie, they’ll finally admit they like each other.” Prentiss giggled, mentioning you and Reid as if you weren’t in their presence.

“Be quiet!” You and Reid simultaneously yelped.

You buried your face into a throw pillow that had been discarded on the floor, probably from where you and Reid took up all the space on the couch. As you hid your face in embarrassment, you heard the quartet move away from the scene and into the kitchen, leaving you and Reid to your devices.

“Sorry about them.” He finally said. His voice was all raspy from where he’d just woken up and all you could think was - YOU’RE KILLING ME. How did he make everything he did so sexy?

“Me, too.” You uttered, removing the pillow from your face to hug it in your arms like a child hugging their toy. From behind you, Reid sat up and swung his legs to the front of the couch to stand up and help you up from your sitting position on the floor.

“For what it’s worth, I don’t regret anything,” He told you when you’d risen to eye level with him. You smiled to suggest that you felt the same way. “You know, maybe we could do this again . . . without the audience.” He cocked his head backward to gesture to the rest of the group.

“Only if you promise to give me back rubs again.” You beamed.

The look on Reid’s face was priceless. It was as if he’d just been told he won the lottery. You walked away from him with the same stupid grin on your face that he had on his.

“Hey, wait I’m gonna need that shirt back!” He called out from behind you as you moved swiftly into Garcia’s bathroom to change.

“I guess you’ll have to come pick it up from my apartment tonight.” You yelled back to him, lingering in the doorway. His smile was your answer.

Well - looks like you have plans tonight.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid imagine #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds imagine #spencer reid x reader #one shot #mgg #matthew gray gubler

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ktheist · 4 years ago

Text

in another life (i would be your man)

muses. hero!yoongi / assassin!yoongi / father!yoongi / lawyer!yoongi

word. 2.5k

genre. reincarnation au

time and time again, you find yourselves in the other’s absolute mercy.

mercy, which both of you know, the other will not grant.

“have you any last words, hero?” the grass shrivels up around yoongi all because hot air wilts the greenest of life.

a single bead of sweat trickles down the side of yoongi’s face as he looks at you without a shred of fear in the face of death.

“all the gold you’re hoarding... does it bring you happiness?” he says, as though already finding serendipity before you can even drive your talon into his chest.

“happiness!” you roar, mockery dripping off your word, “such humanly sentiments. you forgot who you’re speaking to, hero.”

“yoongi... yoongi’s my name” he sighs softly, eyelids fluttering shut, “say it.”

it is you who fall silent this time.

to say the name of the soul who’s bound to you not for love but for destruction... have you the right?

in your last life, a good few hundred years ago, he’s the one that drove the cross into your chest.

in the one before that, you burn him at the stakes for the wretched powers he held.

in this lifetime, even the armor made of the silver cannot withstand the weight of your paw, talon digging into his chest as he lays underneath you, ready to accept the heroic death.

“very well, if not in this lifetime, then perhaps the next...”

you live for three human lifetimes as the great dragon who brought the continent together. the humans, without their hero, are mere mortals. they learned better than to put their faith in one man.

in the next lifetime, you find yourself kneeling in front of a silver haired man - what a striking hair color for someone who’s supposed to be on the low.

“my hand’s gonna slip,” that gravelly voice still sends shivers down your spine.

“what-” you breathe out, eyebrows knitting together.

he takes his aim.

but there’s something wrong.

the angle he’s pointing at will graze your cheek and ear at most.

then he shoots.

when the bullet bounces against the cement somewhere a few inches away behind you, your body moves on its own. your leg sweep out to send him tumbling down onto the ground. your thighs pin his hips down so he can’t get up and you push the gun farther beyond his reach.

“why are you doing this?” you hiss, knife against his throat.

“don’t you think we owe it to ourselves to be happy?” yoongi says simply, too complacent for a man who’s about to lose yet another life to his enemy.

“that’s not how it works,” teeth gritted together, you press the dulled side of the knife harder against his snow-kissed flesh.

“then, how does it work?” he asks.

for a moment, you’re frozen in place. then you’re taken back to where it all begins.

you were a queen who poisoned her king before proceeding to ruin the kingdom until it remains but a memory to those who’ve lived through your tyrannical era. yoongi was the crown prince from a small country who enticed you into his chambers and kept you locked in a tower like a caged bird while he went to war with the neighboring kingdom with your kingdom’s army.

“i- i hated you for seducing me and locking me up in that tower,” you murmur, breath shaky, “a- and you hated me because i-i couldn’t be killed... because i was...”

“a blood sucker.” he finishes for you.

a flash of anger crosses your eyes and paint your vision red. you press the knife harder - no doubt there would be a bruise, “no matter how immortal i was... i died because of a broken heart. you killed me!”

“i was breaking my own heart for having to keep you locked in that tower but if i let you go...” he trails off, his hand coming to settle on yours.

it’s the first time you hear him choke up.

“so many died because of our love,” yoongi’s voice comes out barely above whisper.

“your sin is mistaking hate for love,” you flick your wrist, switching the side of the blade pressed against his neck to one that could cut through clean and swift.

but before you can seal yet another lifetime of your surviving, a sharp pain cuts into your arm, forcing you to release the blade, your free hand cupping the familiar circular wound that’s gushing with blood.

you push yourself off him, going over the ledge and jumping off to your safety. and yoongi’s left in the cold, night air, the coms in his ear buzzing back to life.

it’s six months later that he finds you, dressed in deep red, smiling seductively as you cling on a man twice your age. all of a sudden, he finds himself ignoring whatever his partner’s saying in the coms and approaching you and the man.

yoongi can barely remember what he said but he remembers the overwhelming feeling of relief when the man pushes you off and march out of the room, shouting russian vulgarities.

“planting a bullet hole in my arm isn’t enough, you just had to sabotage my mission, don’t you?” you’re on top of him once again but the ground isn’t cold and hard as he’s always remembered in the series of you pinning him down in differing lifetimes.

“have you thought about what i said?” he doesn’t look like he minds it anymore.

being pinned down by you, that is.

rather, yoongi quite likes the view of your cleavage when you lean down close enough to whisper into his hears, “i reflected on my past mistakes... and truly, i wish nothing more than to have you gone from my sight once and for all.”

then his index finger ghosts over the softest protrusion of the healed up scar on your arm. and you feel goosebumps on your skin.]

you leave in the morning, slipping out of the hotel room in that skin tight maroon dress, noticing the woman in the lobby, looking like what you would’ve looked like if you were waiting for your partner who went against orders and checked into a room in the very same hotel he was supposed to eliminate his target at.

sloppy. fucking sloppy.

yoongi never sees you after that. he got reprimanded and almost got eliminated by his own agency if it hadn’t been his father, the head of the extermination department who pulled some strings and buried the matter.

it’s a surprise he’s still alive at the age of of thirty-one, owning a lawfirm of his own and living the life he’s never thought he’d have.

a normal one.

then, he spots you, walking down the sidewalk holding a toddler’s hand and smiling down at him like he’s the most precious thing you’ve ever hold dear to.

“stop the car,” yoongi orders.

“s-sir?” the driver, surprised by the sudden request, hesitates.

“pull over!” it’s the first time the young man has ever hear his boss raise his voice.

so he does just that, but a block away from where yoongi last saw you.

he runs as fast as his legs could carry him. but the sidewalk is empty of a woman holding a child’s hand.

it takes another year of him searching records of faces and names. for you have many and unlike yoongi, he’s sure you have no one to pull the strings and make one blunder disappear.

then he finds you, under a pseudonym, of a certain kim hana whose child is named kim youngsoo.

“it’s me,” he announces, stepping into the light that pours past the window and over not even half of the room.

“mommy, can we order pizza?” youngsoo’s lively voice rings from outside of the room.

“yeah, why don’t you decide what toppings you want and i’ll be out there in a sec, sweetie,” your voice sounds heavenly - none of the guarded strain that he usually hears. but your eyes, they look like the eyes of a woman who would give everything to protect her most precious possession.

“so it was you... one year ago,” you say, ambling to the dresser where yoongi easily finds out your motive.

“the gun’s not there anymore, you really think i’d break into the house of an ex-assassin and not think to look for weapons tacked up somewhere out of sight?” he hears the frustrated sigh you make before you stand with your feet apart.

looks like you believe his words.

looks like you’ve got no problems taking him on with bare hands.

“he’s mine, isn’t he?”

a scoff.

“you’re pretty dumb if you think one night’s all it takes to get pregnant with your bastard child.”

“who’s the father, then? why isn’t he around?” he presses on.

and his questions have always been intrusive but you notice the weight of his every inquiry. as if he’d drop dead right this instant if you don’t answer them.

“he walked away, couldn’t accept that we had to always be on the move just because he had a baby with a wanted woman.”

and it’s not the police that wants you.

“his social security number?” yoongi shoots you another question.

“i don’t know. i don’t remember,” you say simply, a shrug accompanying your answer.

“number one rule of being an assassin: never forget anything,” yoongi recites easily, even after five years, he still recalls the drilling his mentor forced him through, “so that leaves us with one possibility: he doesn’t exist, this ex of yours.”

“mooooom.” youngsoo calls out, sounding too close for comfort.

“just a minute, sweetie. why don’t you take my phone out of my bag and get ready to dial up the number to the pizza place?” there’s a lightness in your tone.

envy wraps around yoongi’s heart before he even realizes it. how he wished you’d speak to him in that delicate, loving tone as well.

“look, i’m tired, i’m done playing games, i’ve been done since that night. i know i fucked up and i know some day i’ll pay for it but not tonight... tonight... at least let me have one last night with my kid.”

it’s the way the word ‘my’ and ‘kid’ fall naturally off your mouth that makes yoongi realize that he’s the one stuck in the beginning all along. that he’s the one who couldn’t move on from the past even though he sought to change the present and threw your world upside down when he decided not to take the shot.

before he can say anything, you’re already out of the door but he senses no rush in your footsteps.

“do you have the pizza place’s number down?” there it is again, the soft, tender tilt in your voice.

it’s a little faint but he hears it clearly.

and it may very well just be a trick to make him sympathize but what is he to sympathize with when he’s only here to ask for confirmation?

why do you treat him like death who’s finally come to take back your borrowed time?

well, the answer was simple.

“i paid off the bounty,” yoongi meets you at a cafe where he knows you’ll feel safer.

no assassin will make a move in broad daylight, in public, with his face out for the cameras to record.

“how much?” you sound like you just got another loan tying you down.

“enough that they can’t resist,” he states.

and before you can even say anything, he goes on, “i want to see him.”

“no.” you say curtly.

“he’s my child too.” he slides the white envelope he pulls out of his pocket to you.

it contains the dna results from the hair on the comb youngsoo complained he lost and yoongi’s own hair.

“he’s doesn’t need a father,” you don’t even give the envelope a second glance, “if that’s all-”

“that’s not for you to decide on your own,” he cuts you off.

it’s the firmness in his tone that makes your eyebrows rise. min yoongi has always been a gentle soul. even when he was driving a cross into your heart, he’d done it with the heaviest heart.

and for him to place his foot down like this - how very unlike him.

which is why, when he pulls, you pull harder.

“if you so much as appear in front of youngsoo, we will disappear and i’ll make sure you’ll never us again.”

and with that, you take out the blank check from your purse and slip it over to him. the check and the envelop laying side by side.

money isn’t the issue, you’ve managed to wire every single penny you have to different bank accounts before the agency could even freeze the one in seoul. it took several trips to japan, hong kong and china but you eventually got enough to start a new life with your new life.

and that new life of yours is being shaken by the presence of an entity of the past.

you begin noticing the men and women dressed in plain clothing standing a few feet away from where you and youngsoo go. they’re there, acting absolutely normal which makes it unnormal. always watching, always being on guard as if their lives depend on you and youngsoo’s security.

it goes on for another three months before you finally get tired of it and approach one of them, “call your boss over.”

youngsoo’s blowing bubbles at the park when a sleek black car pulls up at the curb and a familiar face steps out.

“you can see him every week on saturdays, one no-show and you’re out. also- i decide when he finds out,” you set the rules and yoongi looks like he a little kid who’s about to perform at his school’s talent show, “do we have a deal?”

“absolutely,” he nods readily.

yoongi’s hand moves on its own and he almost hooks his index finger around your pinky finger as if asking for some kind of emotional support. but he stops himself.

he walks beside you, watching as you walk out from under the shades of the tree, your expression instantaneously brightening when the sunlight hits, “youngsoo-ah,” you wave the toddler over.

his little legs comes running towards you, curious, bright eyes staring at yoongi and right through his soul. he’s never felt so bare and defenseless.

the only thing that keeps him from running away is the fondness in your voice. and the smile on your face that he’s never seen before, “youngsoo-ah, this is uncle yoongi, he’s mommy’s friend...”

yoongi musters the best smile he can - he never needed to try. it’s the people around him that force smiles to please him. never the other way around. never him having to smile so he wouldn’t scare off his son.

he crouches in front of the child that’s partially hiding behind you, “youngsoo-ah, it’s nice to finally meet you.”

#bts fic #bts fanfic #bts fanfiction #yoongi fic #yoongi fanfiction #yoongi fanfic #yoongi smut #bts smut #yoongi imagines #bts imagines #bts scenarios #yoongi scenarios #bts au #yoongi au

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bandaigaeru · 4 years ago

Text

comfort place - yang jeongin

→genre: friends to lovers →synopsis: comfort can manifest itself in many forms. some find it in the fantastical world of the arts. others find it in sports. but, for you, comfort is a person. →word count: 6.5k →pairing: jeongin x gender neutral reader →warnings: drunk jeongin, mentions of puking

“Why are you doing that?”

“Doing what?”

“That,” your eyes go wide as you nod at his stature. He’s hunched over your trash can. Blue gloves shield his hands as he digs.

“Oh. I think I lost my earring or something.”

“And your first instinct was to search my trash can?” you quirk an eyebrow. Perhaps you should mention that this isn’t just any trash can, it’s your kitchen one. Full of discarded, burnt ramen and your roommate’s weird protein shakes that will clog your drain otherwise.

He nods, as though this is the most normal first step to a lost earring. Yang Jeongin is many things, but being questionable is one of his strongest traits.

You slip behind him to get to the fridge. Water bottles line the right half, more commonly known as your roommate’s side. You reach for one.

“What are you doing on March twenty-fifth?” he asks, arms deep in your trashcan. He’s really going to endure this conversation without a single shred of his pride disappearing.

You try not to look at him as you glance at the calendar. Two weeks away, the small square for that Saturday reads “NATIONALS” in large red letters.

You hum to yourself. “Dog sitting.”

“What?” he looks at you, eyes squinted in confusion, “Why?”

“Danceracha’s going out of town for the dance contest. I told you this.”

He exhales a deep, surrendering sigh as he straightens his back and plucks the gloves off. He shakes his hands in the cool air before starting for your sink. The calm stream of water trickles out. “Man. That sucks.”

“Why?” you question. Your fingertips draw marks of condensation along the plastic.

“I was gonna invite you to a party,” he mutters. A pout comes to his lips. For a moment, your heart drops. He looks the same as when you met him. All those years, long with memories but short in quantity, whizz past you.

“Party?” you repeat.

“Yeah,” he nudges the water stream off.

Parties and Jeongin don’t mix well. History has proven this.

“Whose party is it?” you start for the living room, knowing he’ll follow.

“You don’t know him,” he says, his voice never once fading because, indeed, he’s on your tail.

“Okay, but what’s his name?”

“Chan. Actually,” he hesitates, “you might know him.”

As you sink into the couch, chipped leather scratching your legs, you glance at him. His eyebrows are scrunched into his thinking stance. Then, his features light up once he finds the answer. “Do you remember sophomore year’s biology class?”

You nod.

“Remember when that senior came in to make fun of Mr. Lee?”

Again, you nod.

“His best friend is Chan. You probably saw them in our freshman yearbook for spirit week. They dressed up as Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum for Twins Day.”

Your mouth forms into an acknowledging part. “Got it.” In fact, the recurring image instantly pops into your head. You can thank all the hours spent staring at it with stifled laughter for that.

“So what’s the party for?”

He shrugs, “Some college achievement shit.”

“And you got invited?” you laugh. Jeongin barely made it out of high school. He took one harrowed glance at the local campus and nearly cried. You don’t blame him, though. That place is stressful. Even as a freshman you can say this.

He rolls his eyes. “I’m cool, you know? I don’t need to be in academics for them to know that.”

“Sure,” you nod.

“I’m serious!” His lips quirk up in a defensive manner that sends a spark through your chest.

Among other things, Jeongin is confusing. Questionable and confusing. These are the words you say when someone asks you what he’s like. Because seriously, why does he always do things so infuriating yet endearing?

He runs a hand through his hair as he unlocks his phone. His thumb works quickly to swipe through a message log before he tilts the phone so you can see. “See?”

The conversation in question is short, a maximum of four texts. The details blur as he snatches his phone back as quickly as he showed it. Again, infuriating.

“Are you planning on going alone, then?”

This question makes him freeze. He stares at the wall wielding a mounted TV, whose black screen reflects the image of him by your side, shoulder to shoulder. A small smile tilts his lips. “I guess. People want me there. So I’ll find my niche.”

See? Endearing.

You have no doubts that he can find a place to fit in. He did it in high school and he’ll proceed to do it in the future. That’s just how he is. Plus, maybe he can allow someone else to feel safe too. Like he did for you.

ii.

High school is a demon with a comforting smile. When you’re forced to transition, they tell you it’s all fun. Sunshine and rainbows, if you will. What they don’t tell you is that luck will always make it so you don’t get any of your friends in your classes. And this, with your contradicting lunch shifts, will slowly force you out of the friend group you had stuck with since elementary school.

Perpetual tears are stocked behind your eyes. Waiting for the perfect moment to fall because let’s be honest, any minor inconvenience could push you over the edge. Stress does that to you.

In third period of your second week, your math teacher announces that she’s decided on her seating chart. She makes you line up against the walls as she grabs her reference sheet, lined with the images of desks, names scribbled atop them. “Jeongin,” she says, pointing to a desk in the front row.

A boy a few feet away from you steps out from the crowd to claim his desk. He’s wearing an oversized maroon hoodie whose back is marked “Yang” in white letters.

Your teacher stops at the seat next to him. She glances at you and your heart drops. “Y/N,” she points to a desk.

Sitting up front is worse than the incessant plagues of high school drama. All eyes permanently burn into the back of your head, even when not a single soul acknowledges you.

As you try to settle into your seat, back a little stiff from trying to shrink yourself into a tiny marble, the boy beside you leans over. “Hey, you okay?”

For the first time, your eyes lock. His remind you of the innocence of childhood, that blank yet full gaze. You nearly melt, but instead, your back loosens.

“Yeah. I just don’t like sitting in the front,” you chuckle awkwardly.

He smiles. Not one of the pity ones, but a real toothy smile. “Aww. Me neither, I always feel like everyone’s watching me.”

Finally, a person who gets it.

“But I just have to trick myself into not caring,” he says, glancing at the whiteboard. Shadows of poorly erased marker line the corners.

Abruptly, after his serene gaze, he jumps back to you. “Do you like coffee by any chance?”

Despite the initial shock of the question, you say, “Yeah, I do.”

As it turns out, his family owns this huge coffee shop right next to the bookstore you used to frequent. His mom was rather happy to see a new face. On that day, she accepted you as family.

And math didn’t turn out to be so hard that year.

iii.

The apartment grows quiet after Jeongin inevitably has to leave. Your roommate’s dog comes trotting out from his room. His nose is upturned, scouting for a soul to give him attention.

“Come here, Kkami,” you pat the empty spot on the couch beside you. He runs the rest of the way. Instead of resting on the couch cushion, he prefers your lap. This pickiness he obtained from his owner.

Hyunjin’s anything but a bad roommate. He does the dishes, sweeps when he finds a large puff of Kkami’s fur traveling your hardwood like a tumbleweed, even brings home coffee when you have a huge study night ahead of you. However, when it comes to you and Jeongin, your mutual hangouts on weekends, he has a very specific need. And that’s to be around you two as little as possible.

He claims it’s because he can’t stand third-wheeling. Jeongin refuses to understand this concept. “If we’re not dating, it’s not third-wheeling?” he’d said, numerous times.

Hyunjin won’t budge on the subject.

The tune set as Jeongin’s ringtone, chosen by him, plagues the air. You reach for your phone, placing a protective hand on Kkami’s side to prevent him from falling.

“Hello?”

“Problem: What would you do if your brother told you he got a girlfriend?”

You squint at your reflection in the TV between scene transitions. It looks odd without him beside you. “Which brother?”

“Guess which one would make me more dumbfounded. Hint, it’s not the older one.”

“Your younger brother got someone before you?” you snicker. Jeongin holds his pride in his individuality. Losing to a younger brother with something like this is hilarious.

“This isn’t funny! Should I be a serious big brother and talk to him or should I just seethe in silence?”

“Neither. Leave him alone.”

He does something akin to a whine. “But-”

You stick up a finger, though he can’t see you as you interrupt, “C’mon, Jeongin. He’s a teenager. Let him be.”

Sometimes, it feels like he’s the outsider and you’re the true, reasonable sibling.

He sighs. You imagine him pushing his hair out of his eyes and staring up at his ceiling. All lost in the possibilities that lay before him, since you and him both know he won’t listen to you.

“Can I hang up now?” you ask, glancing at the front door.

“Are you gonna abandon me for your significant other too?”

You scoff as the front door opens. “You’re ridiculous.”

Hyunjin steps into the apartment. His hair is damp with sweat and lays jagged in front of his eyes. You raise a hand to wave.

“It’s a real question, though. You know whoever it is will be jealous of me.” Now, you know, he’s just prodding for a reaction. You can practically hear the smirk in his voice.

“Yes, Jeongin. I would one hundred percent drop you for some person who offers emotional stimulation,” you monotonously chide.

Hyunjin gives you a curious look as he passes. You would think he’d be used to this by now.

“Okay but,” Jeongin’s voice grows low as he settles onto his bed, “would you really? Tell me you won’t.”

“I won’t,” you press your back deeper into the couch. It’s not like you’ve had many romantic opportunities since meeting him. Jeongin, though also needy, is more interesting than anyone else you’ve met. He’s a shiny emerald among a sea of charcoal.

“Good,” he says, and you can tell he’s smiling. The image of his little dimple indenting makes you mirror the sentiment.

“Now can I hang up?”

“Fine,” he sighs.

Through a laugh, you manage, “Goodnight. Love you.”

“Love you too.” And then the line goes dead.

iv.

“Are you sure you don’t like him?” must be a trendy replacement for ‘good morning.’

“Who?” you ask, rubbing your eye as you start for the cereal cabinet.

“Jeongin. Who else?” Hyunjin says. He sits at the kitchen table. A plate of freshly heated blueberry waffles sits before him.

Without turning to him, you say, “I’m sure.”

It’s a reflex, really.

He exhales in the most exaggerated way possible to grab your attention. His eyes are cold with the hunger for an answer. A real one.

“I don’t like him,” you say slowly, allowing each word time to sink into the air.

The thought has surely crossed your mind. It’d be unrealistic to say you’ve never pondered the great possibility of being in love with your best friend. But ultimately, you don’t think you are. Sure, you’d take a bullet for Jeongin. Just not in the ‘wow I’m madly in love with you�� kind of way. You tell yourself it’s in the ‘you’re going to do so much good for the world’ kind of way.

“Fine,” Hyunjin admits, picking up one of his waffles and taking a caveman bite.

Most of breakfast is quiet as you sit opposite him, staring into your bowl. Your milky reflection takes you off guard a few times.

“You know,” Hyunjin says after a while, his voice raw and a little croaky. He has to bring a hand to cover his mouth as he clears his throat. “You should get him to stay with you while I’m away.”

As you look back up at him, he adds defensively, “I’m not trying to play Cupid.”

You shrug, “He probably has other plans.”

Yet when you text him a few hours later, he jumps on it. “It’ll be like a sleepover! Don’t you miss when we did those?”

You did, but you don’t admit it.

The week of nationals arrives too quickly for your mind to process. One minute, you’re studying for an upcoming exam and the next there’s a knock on your bedroom door. It doesn’t wait for a sound before opening.

“Hey, I’m leaving.”

Hyunjin’s dressed in black sweatpants and a black hoodie, which covers his messy hair. Perfect for his night of sleeping on the bus. A duffel bag packed and puffy hangs off his shoulder.

“Good luck,” you smile up at him.

“Thanks. Don’t try sneaking into the venue with your rat like you did last year,” he returns the smile.

“Hey, it wasn’t my idea,” you rush to defend yourself.

He scoffs. “Yeah, right. You still played into it.”

“And we got to support you as your lovely friends.”

“You were the only people cheering during the contemporary dance,” he mumbles, stepping back into the hall.

“To be fair, we couldn’t realize because we were so involved!” you shout to match the increasing distance.

“Right!” he calls, a laugh shaking his words.

Studying is now a failed mission. Every time you glance at the words printed on the textbook’s glossed pages, they just blur together until your mind drifts to Jeongin. When is he coming over? He said he’d be here by seven. It’s roughly a quarter past. He has a key, so it’s not like you have to be free when he gets here.

When you succumb and close the textbook, you hear shuffling in the living room. Shortly followed by Kkami’s familiar barking, which he only pursues when someone’s here.

The feeling of a generously excited puppy fills you as you follow the source.

“Hi,” you smile.

Jeongin has treated himself to a coffee. He must have just worked a shift.

“Hi,” he hands you the paper cup.

“Oh, is this for me?” you take it. It’s hot against your palms.

“Yeah. It’s hot chocolate. Thought you might want it.”

He drops his backpack, likely stuffed with potential party outfits, by the couch. He stands and scans your face as you take the first sip of the drink. The sweetness takes over and makes you shiver, but the warmth minimizes the shiver to nothing. Surely enough, this is his mother’s hot chocolate.

“Thank you,” you say, looking into his eyes. The living room light has speckled his eyes with stars.

“Of course.”

A moment passes of just looking at each other. Not a single word. You’re not even sure if you’re remembering to breathe.

It breaks when he glances at the TV. “Movie time?”

Settling on the couch doesn’t take long. He sits close enough to you, resting his head on your shoulder. He’s done this for as long as you remember, but why does it feel so close all of a sudden?

He chooses the movie. A tradition you’ve established ever since you accidentally chose a movie so repulsively awful you had to take a break from watching movies at all. The teasing was barely bearable.

Even now, when someone says something similar to that movie, you shiver.

“Are we feeling sci-fi?” he asks.

You almost shrug until you remember where his head is. “I don’t care,” you say instead.

He chooses a romance movie, his safe pick.

And he falls asleep not even ten minutes in.

Hyunjin’s question returns to you in neon lights. Certainly, this tight feeling in your chest couldn’t be akin to liking someone. When you like someone, there’s always a telltale sign. There’s a bright moment of realization. That’s never come for you. Even now, all you can do is question. Question. Question. Question.

vi.

Jeongin’s party outfit is the most conspicuous thing ever. A light blue tee from middle school that has all his classmate’s signatures on the back. Black jeans with holes at the knees. You can’t tell if he’s going to a child’s party or not.

He catches your tilted gaze, matched with the furrowed eyebrows, and huffs. “Would you rather I get puke on a good shirt?”

You blink. “I’d rather you not puke on yourself.”

A noise close to laughter bursts past his lips. “Ha. Funny. I won’t reach that point. I’m thinking people puking on me.”

You nod. Jeongin’s a lightweight, from what you know. But hey, if it helps him sleep at night.

He departs after a long phone call with Chan. He offers a little wave as he opens the door. “I’ll give you live updates.”

“You don’t have to.”

“But I will.”

And indeed, he follows through. Selfies bombard your phone every three minutes. One is taken with Chan, but it’s so shaky and dark that they look like blobs with highlighted cheeks.

These only make you more confused. Maybe Hyunjin was right. But you don’t want him to be. Nothing makes you feel more foolish than catching feelings for a friend who is just that. Friend. That painful, heartbreaking word.

You open Hyunjin’s message log, prepared to reach out and ask if he can help you break down what you’re feeling, but his contact transitions to consuming your entire screen—perfect timing, he’s calling.

“Hello?”

“Guess what?” His voice is drowned out by external shouts.

“What?”

“We took second place!”

“Congrats,” you smile to yourself, leaning against the couch arm.

“It’s all thanks to Felix’s freestyle. That surprise category threw us off, but he really came through,” he rambles. He tells you about all his points and each error, which ultimately seem mundane but apparently make a difference in his detail loving mind.

“Anyway, I just wanted to call. See how you’re doing, you know.”

“I’m doing good,” you nod as though to convince yourself.

“How’s Jeongin?”

“At a party,” you say as your phone buzzes again. Another selfie. This time, he’s in a lonesome bathroom and posing in the mirror. A peace sign that surrounds his eye. That stupid dimple makes your heart jump.

Hyunjin giggles at something on his end and says something not aimed at you. He quickly returns to his serious tone with, “How are you really feeling? Don’t bullshit me.”

You stifle a laugh. Resting your head on the back of the couch, you glare at the ceiling, “Confused.”

“About Jeongin?”

He slips into a quieter place. You sigh. Why are your hands shaking all of a sudden? “Yeah.”

“Well,” he starts, “I pushed you into thinking about it for a reason.”

“He doesn’t like me like that.”

“How do you know?”

“Because friends don’t like friends like that.”

“But you like him like that, so doesn’t that ruin your statement?”

You sit in the silence for a minute. “I guess so.”

His breath is amplified and you can hear each inhale and exhale. “You’ll probably just brush this off, but I think you have a shot.”

You nod. “Sure. A shot at going to the moon maybe. A shot at Jeongin liking me? No way.”

“Look, pessimism isn’t gonna get you anywhere. If you’re too much of a pussy to talk to him, I will. But not because I want to, because it’s terrible seeing you sulk,” he mutters.

A round of applause for your roommate.

“Just give me some time. I still don’t know if I like him,” you glance at the dog, who’s cuddled up on a pile of blankets. Why can’t your life be that simple?

“Not trying to force you or anything, but I think you know the answer to that.”

He’s probably right. It’s not like you can retaliate anyway. There’s a distant knock before he says, “Sorry. I gotta go. I’ll be home tomorrow.”

The following silence is truly suffocating.

vii.

That party changes everything.

Jeongin stumbles home, each step a potential path to faceplanting. It’s this exact stumble that forces him to trip over a box.

The noise draws you from sleep. Through squinted eyes, you stare at him as he tries to regain his balance. His arms are splayed out, searching for a stable support beam.

“Jeongin?” you whisper, though you know it’s him. Who else would be drunkenly returning home at, you glance at your phone, three in the morning?

“Y/N,” he gasps. Your voice prompts him to follow it.

As you stand, he finds his way through the narrow path between couch and coffee table. He throws his arms around you.

“I missed you,” he mumbles, words meshing together.

“I missed you too?” It’s only been six hours.

He holds you at arms length, palms resting on your shoulders. “I love you,” he slurs, eyes drunkenly taking a long blink.

“I love you too?”

“No, like, I really love you. ‘The moon is beautiful’ type of stuff,” he nods.

You’re not sure what he means by this. But it doesn’t matter if you try to question him, because he continues.

“I think about the future a lot,” he says, hands falling to his sides before he falls onto the couch. “Nothing’s ever consistent. But you’re always there.”

“That’s-” you begin.

He wasn’t finished. “I think our wedding would be nice.”

Now, he goes silent as you stand there in shock. He thinks about that? How often?

The moment your lips part to ask these things, a light snore escapes his lips. You grab a blanket from your room, the Totoro one he loves, and you gently cover him. You lean over his face. His cheeks are a little swollen, as are his lips. You push his hair away from his eyes before going to your room. You’re careful not to make a noise as you shut the door.

He’s gone by the time you wake up. For the first twenty-four hours, you shrug it off as a painful hangover he’s just sleeping through.

Most hangovers don’t last a week, though.

One time, sitting beneath a sky littered with stars, Jeongin released a deep breath. “Do you think we’ll ever stop being friends?”

Jeongin’s not insecure about many things, as his philosophy is that if one person finds something unattractive, there’s a hoard who will think otherwise. But this topic is an exception.

“Unless you do something unthinkably terrible, no,” you mumble. And you truly meant it.

So, Jeongin: You haven’t done anything unthinkable.Why have you disappeared?

Life without Jeongin has been incredibly boring. It’s prompted an imminent heartache. Attending class is a lame option considering your bed is so much more comfortable. You never knew missing someone could form a black hole in your body, consuming each grain of energy.

Hyunjin’s the only reason you’re eating. Since he knows you’re not up for any meal, he brings you snacks and another bottle of water—to add to the mountain of empty bottles on your desk.

“Do I need to go break his ankles?” Hyunjin asks one day, nearly a month after his tournament.

You shrug. You know he’s joking, but laughter doesn’t seem to bubble up. It’s lost in the dark cave that is this confusing state.

“I texted him today. No response yet,” Hyunjin adds.

You nod. You got the same treatment, but you stopped trying a while ago.

“Have you gone to the coffee shop? To see his mom or something?”

You shake your head. “No point in it. He doesn’t tell her much. Plus I don’t want to pin her against him or anything.”

Hyunjin sighs. He doesn’t know what else to say, or offer, or do to help you. Not that you’re a lost cause, but he’s starting to lose the ounce of hope he had. To him, you’re too good for this. Telling and convincing you of that is a difficult task.

When he leaves you alone, you cry again. At this point, your eyes hurt when you aren’t crying. But hey, at least you’re sleeping nice. The desperate need to escape can do that to you.

viii.

You tell Hyunjin your conclusion at dinner—something he’s finally tricked you into eating. “I think I love him.”

He nods. “Yeah. Didn’t we already establish that?”

You push the noodles around. “I didn’t want to admit it.”

“Why?”

Averted gaze set to the ramen, though his remains scalding. “I don’t know.”

He reaches across the table to regain your focus. He knows the noodles aren’t that interesting. “That’s okay. Look, we can go beat his ass if you want. Or we can hunt him down and hold him hostage-”

He stops when he sees the small hint of a smile turning your lips up. One of his own appears, and in his mind, he’s breaking into a congratulatory dance. The crack in the sadness is exposed, and it’s slowly breaking further. All that’s next is revealing the ravine of happiness.

After dinner, you sit on the couch and decide to watch a movie. Unlike Jeongin, he gives you movie pick. It reminds you of the bitter taste that’s overcome your mouth since he up and left.

Halfway through the movie, some shitty one Jeongin and you watched a few months ago, Kkami barks at the couch. He looks between you and the crack behind it as if to say, “Hello? Get my bone!”

You glance at Hyunjin, who also waits for you to get up and retrieve the dog’s lost bone. Normally you take turns with this task, but he seems to have forgotten it’s been his turn for the last five times.

With a muted sigh, you pull yourself off the couch. Hyunjin doesn’t even bother to pause the movie. Jeongin wouldn’t do that.

You lower yourself to look into the dark tunnel. With a blind hand you swipe against the floor. A small object connects with the palm of your hand. You drag it out. A small metal earring glares back at you. You drop it in the pocket of your hoodie—which was a gift from Jeongin as you drifted into adulthood. You return to the bone search with a sting in your eyes.

ix.

Happiness is a fragile object.

At the same hour that Jeongin had said the unthinkable, your phone buzzes loudly against your side. Ultimately, this brings you back to the post-sleep daze as you trudge to answer it. Looking at the contact is the last of your concerns.

“Hello?” Your voice is raw. A long gulp of water would be kindly appreciated.

“Hey, Y/N, right?” This is a voice you’ve never heard before. You pull back to look at the contact and, unsurprisingly, there isn’t one. All that stares back is a string of numbers, unique to this person.

“Yeah?”

“Hi, sorry for the late call. I’m Chan-” you nearly hang up out of defensive instinct, but you let him finish. “I kind of need a favor right now.”

“What kind of favor?”

In the background, there’s a loud retching noise. “Um, so Jeongin, right?” Chan nervously laughs.

“We’re not really-” you start.

He interrupts, “I know. But he’s been talking about you nonstop. He’s really a wimp, you know. Actually, I guess I’m not really asking for a favor. I’m doing you a favor.”

You know where he’s going with this. “I’m sorry, Chan, but I don’t think that’s a-”

“Hush,” he says before his voice distances.

“Y/N? It’s Y/N?” the familiar, slurred voice asks.

He wasn’t going to give you an option. Deep down, you’re kind of grateful for that.

When Chan returns to the phone, he says, “I can send you the address. We’re on the first floor, so it shouldn’t be too bad. I would offer to come pick you up, but I’m babysitting.” At these final words, he laughs.

You consider waking up Hyunjin to take you—he’s the one with the car—but you think against it when you realize it’s only a five minute walk.

Despite the daytime weather that is clear sky and sun that hugs your skin, the nighttime

version is a little less welcoming. Indeed the air is breezeless, but it’s a bitter cold. Grabbing a hoodie would have been smart, but alas.

Chan opens the door with a smile. “Hi, come on in.”

He points to a closed door, “Jeongin’s in there. He should be decent. Just a little pukey.”

You follow his directions, while he starts for the couch. At least he’s allowing privacy, you think. You knock lightly on the door. After a long trial of waiting with no response, you slowly push the door open.

His cheek is resting on the cold porcelain of the bathtub. Through dazed and squinted eyes, he looks at you. “Hi?”

“Hey,” you say, stepping into his space for the first time in over a month. Despite the stain of puke on his shirt, you realize that he hasn’t changed much. What physical changes can someone go through in a month? Well. Everything.

You appreciate your mind for allowing his appearance to never leave. Otherwise, you might have looked at him just now and been disgusted. Because it’s Jeongin, and because of this weird tugging feeling in your chest, you don’t. In its place, you look at him as though he holds the world’s most valuable object.

He tries to sit up, nearly falls on his face, but manages. “Do you hate me?”

“No. I don’t think so,” you squat next to him. The familiar weight of his head meets with your shoulder.

“I shouldn’t say this,” he laughs. His mind is going a mile a minute, but his lips refuse to go at an accompanying speed. “I love you.”

You stare at the top of his head. “I love you too.”

“Really?” he lifts his head. He seems to search your eyes for the similar sparkle his hold.

“Yeah,” you nod. You decide to save your cheesy comments until the morning. No point in wasting them if he won’t remember this when he wakes up.

“Did you know that I,” he says, trying to lift himself to his feet. He leans a little too far on a foot, prompting you to rush and steady him. “thought you and Hyunjin were dating for the longest time.” He laughs again.

You squint at him, “Is that why you disappeared?”

A drunk smile finds his lips and his cheeks glow beneath the bathroom light. “Guilty.”

“You’re stupid for thinking it’d ever be anyone but you,” you whisper, glancing anywhere but him. You could say this to the mirror too. Stupid for thinking it could be anyone but him.

He’s ridiculous. Ridiculous enough to allow his smile to drop a little as he leans closer to your face. “I’m going to kiss you,” he whispers.

You watch as he leans a little bit closer. Bit by bit. You even close your eyes at one point. At the last minute, when his breath begins to mingle with yours, he pulls away. “No. Let me brush my teeth first.”

You watch in a stunned silence as he stumbles to the living room. “Do you have a spare toothbrush I could use?” he asks Chan.

Chan responds quietly with, “Yeah, under the sink.”

You beat Jeongin to it, offering him the packaged toothbrush.

“Thanks, love,” he says.

Questionable Jeongin who calls you pet names. You like it, though you’ll try your hardest not to admit it. That’d only feed into his questionable choices.

Minty Jeongin has sobered up a little bit. Instead of kissing you immediately after rinsing his mouth, he stares.

“What?” you prompt.

“Nothing.”

And then he leans in and kisses you. In all honesty, it’s exactly how you imagined kissing him. There’s no stereotypical sparks. It’s just Jeongin, whose lips happen to be on yours. That’s enough. Afterward, though, you acknowledge that Cloud 9 is beneath your feet.

Chan drives you and Jeongin back to your apartment after a difficult talk and one final puke. (The puker looks at you when he feels it coming and asks, “Can you hold my hair back?”)

As you’re helping Jeongin out of the car, Chan leans back in the driver seat and glares a strong eye at Jeonign, “Run away again and I will beat your ass.”

Jeongin chuckles. “Right. Catch me first.” As he says this, he throws his arm over your shoulder for stability. Though, he’s sober enough to walk on his own now. The occasional stumble, sure, but he’s not in dire need of someone to guide him.

You take it as his way of saying he plans on staying.

However, when you make it into the apartment, you don’t bear right to the couch.

Keeping him close will prevent him sneaking out and running away again. That’s a thing of the past, and you’ll make sure of it.

He doesn’t even complain.

“Don’t puke on me, please,” you whisper as you climb into bed. He follows shortly after. Arms naturally find your waist as he pulls you closer to him.

He hums. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

Dreamless sleep takes over you, but the entire time you’re aware of his arms and his proximity. In a way, it’s better than dreaming.

It’s even better when you wake up before him. His lips are a pretty shade of pink and for a moment you forget about his eventful night. You press a light kiss to his cheek.

His eyes don’t open, nor does he stir. He’s in that beautiful, drunken sleep. You try not to laugh at the thought of his hangover to come. God, he’s going to be so whiny.

You try to slip out of his arms, but the death grip only becomes tighter. He whines a little, mutters something like, “Don’t go.”

After a few more minutes of just staring at the sleeping boy, boredom takes over. Yeah, staring is nice and all, whatever, but it reaches a certain intolerable point. Ten minutes is that point.

You nudge him, “Jeongin, let go. I need to go to the bathroom.”

“No,” he mutters, burying his face deeper into the pillow.

“Jeongin.”

“What?”

“Let go.”

His eyes finally open. They hold a small sense of surprise, which prompts you to tease, “What? Do you need a breakdown of what happened? Were you seriously that out of it?”

“No. Well, a little,” he stumbles over the words.

“What do you remember?”

“Puking,” he winces as he laughs. There’s that signature headache.

“You don’t remember kissing me?”

Wide eyes stare back at you. His lip shakes as he tries to force words out. “What?”

You laugh quietly. “Yeah. You did that.”

“I’m sorry,” he sits up. His vacant arms feel cold.

“No it’s okay. You only kissed me because I told you I loved you,” you sit up to match him.

His head turns to look at you. Tufts of hair stick up in an oddly symmetrical way. “Really? Since when?”

You nod. “Yeah. Time frame is unknown, but I think the feeling might have always been there. So you wasted a month of your life hiding.”

He tips his head, “Hey now, I had a valid reason.”

Your eyes squint at him. “It could have been avoided if you answered my texts. Or Hyunjin’s. Or if you checked your voicemail. Or-”

“Okay, I get it,” he nods, leaning in to shut you up. He presses a quick kiss to your lips. “I’m sorry.” He doesn’t say how weird it feels to kiss his best friend—but he’s incredibly excited to get used to it.

“It’s fine. I think. My grades kind of tanked,” you comment, glancing at your desk. The tower of water bottles still stands. Somewhere buried beneath them are your abandoned papers.

“Because of me?” his voice is soft, as are his eyes as he fights back the sting of tears. Of all his intentions, this wasn’t one of them.

This look pains you. “Kinda. I thought I had lost my comfort place.”

In order to disguise his tears, he pulls you into a tight hug. “I’m so sorry. I’ll be good to you. We can make latte art together at the shop and stargaze at stupid hours. Whatever you want.”

You laugh into his shoulder. “Is that a promise?”

He sniffles. “Yes. I love you. That’s the second promise.”

xi.

Hyunjin’s reaction is lackluster. A forced gasp as he waves his hands in surprise. “Wow. I totally didn’t give Chan your number or anything,” he says.

“Are you serious?”

“Yeah. He called me trying to drop him,” he points at Jeongin, “on me.”

“And you didn’t want to get out of bed?” Jeongin asks, bringing his mug of freshly brewed coffee to his lips.

“No,” Hyunjin sticks a finger up in defense. “Kkami wouldn’t let me move.”

What he means is: Yes, I didn’t want to get up but allow me to use my dog as a ploy.

You and Jeongin share a glance to confirm this thought. You burst out laughing.

“Do not tell me you’ve developed a couple's telepathy already,” Hyunjin whines, throwing his head back as he begins to pace the kitchen.

Jeongin begs your stare again. He wiggles his eyebrows to pseudo-communicate.

“I’m going to retail therapy,” Hyunjin sighs, dragging his keys off the counter before starting for the door.

A loud fit of laughter fills the air as the door shakes in its frame.

“He’s so overdramatic,” Jeongin manages, wiping a stray tear away from his eye.

You allow this time to watch him intently. All of his details flood over you with definitive clarity. His skin has gotten its first film of tan now that spring is in full swing. A change of season which you had missed out on together. It’s okay, he’ll take you to see the cherry blossoms next year.

“Oh, I found your earring, by the way,” you say when he catches you staring.

“Really? Where was it?” On instinct, he brings his hand up to his right ear. The lobes are not blinged, but it’s still worth checking.

“Behind the couch.”

He gapes at you. “How’d it get back there?”

“How would I know?”

You allow a silence to lay upon you as his face twists to think. All at once, it lights up again, “Ah. It was probably when we had that wrestling match. I didn’t have the back on because my ear was itchy or something.”

Interesting Jeongin. Questionable Jeongin.

Yang Jeongin is many things. Home. Comfort. Love. Above all else, he’s a friend. Who you happen to kiss from time to time.

#posted on april fools because surprise haha #also because i don’t think this is my best but eh #yang jeongin #jeongin x reader #jeongin imagine #jeongin oneshot #stray kids oneshot #skz oneshot #stray kids jeongin #stray kids imagine #skz imagine #bandaigaeru

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ofstarsandvibranium · 4 years ago

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Heart Shaped Cookies

Fandom: Criminal Minds

Pairing: Spencer Reid x GN!Reader

Summary: It’s Valentine’s Day and it seems that everyone has plans except for you and Spencer.

A/N: S9 Ep15 had Valentine’s Day so I was suddenly inspired by this.

“Happy Valentine’s Day, my lovelies!” Garcia exclaimed as she waltzed into the bullpen covered head to toe in red and hearts. She passed by each agent’s desk, placing down a pink or red heart shaped cookie on a white napkin covered in hearts.

“You know before the holiday was named after St. Valentine, it was actually called Lupercalia, a Roman festival that celebrates the coming of spring and fertility rites. Single men would randomly pick a woman’s name, leading them to marriage and eventually-”

“Alright, kid. I think that’s enough. Thanks.” Derek clasped a hand on Spencer’s shoulder, taking the young doctor’s cookie from him, and biting into it.

“Hey!” Spencer cried out with a pout and you rolled your eyes at Derek’s smirk.

You got up from your desk and handed Spencer your cookie, “Here, Spence,” and then you flicked Derek’s ear, “Don’t be mean!”

Spencer smirked as he bit into the cookie while Derek rubbed his ear.

_________

As fate would have it, there was no case that needed to be solved today. So everyone remained at their desks, doing paperwork until it was time for them to clock out.

Heading to the elevators, you and the team made idle chatter.

“You and Savannah have anything special planned?” you ask Derek.

He gives you a little smirk, “Yeah. This year I’m making us dinner and we’re gonna watch some romance movies. A casual thing this year. What about you? Got a date?”

You shook your head, “Nope. This is probably my sixth Valentine’s Day alone, which is fine. I’ll probably make myself some chocolate covered strawberries, have a nice bath, and watch some romcoms.”

Derek looks over your shoulder, nodding at Spencer, “What about you, pretty boy? Got anyone special you’re treating tonight?”

Spencer gives his tight lipped smile and shakes his head, “Not really, no. I was actually going to a film festival that’ll be showing some classic French romance movies,” his eyes go to you and you see a sudden hesitation within him, “You can come with me, if you want, Y/N. Some of the films might not be subtitled but I could whisper the translations to you.”

You shrugged, “Sure. It beats staying home by myself.”

Spencer’s face immediately brightens up, “Great! I’ll, uh, I’ll pick you up in an hour?”

“Sounds good, Spence.” you give him a smile and a nod and join the other agents into the elevator.

Since there wasn’t much room left, Spencer and Derek stayed behind to catch the next one. You give them a wave as the doors close, leaving the two agents by themselves.

“I see you, Reid. I see you.” Derek grins, giving Spencer a nudge.

He gulps, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” his eyes are focused on the elevator, silently hoping for the next one to appear any time now.

“Reid, come on, man. I see the way you look at them. You like them, don’t you? Tonight’s your chance to make a move!”

Spencer shakes his head, “No, I can’t. We’re just friends.”

“You can be more, that is, if you get your head out of the gutter and make a move. Soon enough, someone will swoop in and sweep them off their feet and it’ll be too late for you.”

He gulps again, feeling the nerves starting to get to him, “But what if they don’t feel the same way? I really like them, Derek, but I value my friendship with them a lot more.”

Derek shrugs, “That’s just a risk you have to take.”

On cue, the elevator arrives with a ding and the doors open to welcome the two agents.

________________

You decided to not go too overboard with the red and pink for tonight. Instead, you settled for a maroon v-neck, black jeans, black converse, and a black leather jacket.

Spencer had arrived a little earlier than expected, but you were nearly ready. You quickly let him in, insisting he’d take a seat and you’d be done in a few minutes.

He sat on your couch, reading through one of your coffee table books when you came back out, “Okay. Let’s hit the road!”

He looks up and he feels his breath hitch. This look is something he usually doesn’t see you in, but you look amazing nonetheless.

You chuckled as you pointed, “We kinda match!”

He switched out his black button up for a maroon one and changed his blazer for a black cardigan. His converse remained the same. Looking down at his outfit and then at yours, he softly smiles and says, “So we do.” and he doesn’t mind it one bit.

_____________

“‘I don’t want you to give up. I want you to fight for me. For us.’“ Spencer murmurs the translations into your ear.

The closeness of him, of his lips to your ear causes goosebumps to appear all over your body and you hope he doesn’t know.

There isn’t many people in the theater. Honestly, you expected a low turnout, but that’s okay. You’re still enjoying your time with Spencer. Despite not knowing what the characters are saying, you’re fully invested in the movie. It helps that Spencer is translating, but even without him, you’re sure you could figure out what’s happening just by using your profiling skills.

“He can’t just give up on her! He said he loves her and now he’s just gonna let her go?!” you hissed causing Spencer to chuckle.

“He’s only doing what she asked.”

“Sometimes some people say things that they don’t mean. They just want to see how willing their partners to fight for them. Reverse psychology, Spencer.” you give him a knowing look and toss a piece of popcorn into your mouth.

Spencer quietly laughs as he leans in a little bit closer, “I’m really happy you came with me tonight. Sure beats being alone on a day like this.”

You sigh, “I know what you mean.” you glance down at the armrest and see Spencer’s hand resting there. You decide to place your hand on top of his and say, “I’m really glad I came with you too, Spence.”

You two are just staring at each other, the light from the movie screen illuminating each other’s features. There’s a pull that’s drawing you to each other, faces getting closer and closer until-

Rrrrring! Rrrrring!

“Sssshhh!” a couple hiss from some rows ahead of you.

Both of you whisper out apologies as you scramble for your phones. You both dig them out and see that it’s work.

“Of course,” you murmur. You gather your things and follow Spencer out of the theater and into the lobby, “Just once I’d like to have a nice night go uninterrupted. Just once! Can’t bad people just put a pause for a day or two? Or twenty? I mean I love what we do-”

“Y/N.”

“-but man I’m really starting to get tired of-”

“Y/N.”

“-of people doing bad things and ruining my-mmf!” you minor rant is silenced by lips on yours.

Your eyes widen when you realize that Spencer is kissing you and, soon enough, you find yourself kissing him back. Eventually, you both pull away for air, leaving you two to look at each other with puckered lips and surprised looks on your faces.

“Well...that happened,” you stated nervously.

“Sorry. I just-I’ve been wanting to do that all night and I was going to but then we were interrupted by the call and-mmf!” It was this time that Spencer was cut off by your lips and you two are kissing again.

“Hey! Take it somewhere else, will ya?” the security asks as he passes you two, causing you to break apart once more.

“Right. Sorry,” you give him a sheepish look and pull Spencer out of the lobby and through the exit.

As you’re walking to Spencer’s car, he stops you for a moment, “I like you. A lot. More than a friend, if you didn’t get that from the kiss, well, both kisses.”

You snorted and smiled at him, “I like you too, if you didn’t get that from both kisses either.”

He shyly smiles at you and then opens your door for you, “So, uh, redo after we finish this case?”

“I’d love nothing more,” you answer before he closes your door and rushes to his side of the car.

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid imagine #criminal minds

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pairofmelaninkweens · 4 years ago

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Happy Birthday Tiger

By: @sweet-darling91

Characters: Yugi Itadori x Reader

Word Count: 2731

TW/Content warnings: None, Soft smut, vanilla sex, Yuji is aged up to 21 here.

After a long day with his friends and eccentric sensei, Gojo, Itadori was FINALLY free to spend the rest of his day doing what he really wanted to do. He was grateful for being surrounded by friends, classmates, and teachers that felt like family. He was just looking forward to being in your presence.

Walking out in the rain, he wields his open umbrella, shielding you from the sudden shower, while you alternate feeding him, and yourself scoops of the ice cream you swiped from the party earlier. When you shudder from the misty evening air, and the icy sensation of the frozen treat sliding down your throat, you feel Yujii’s arm pull you closer into him as he looks down at you. “Are you ok,” he asks, furrowing his brow while he searches your eyes for any sign of discomfort, “You’re trembling.” You fluster and fail to stop the stupid love-struck grin spreading across your face as you look up into his eyes. “Yeah, just a little chilly with the rain and the ice cream,” you answer and offer him another spoonful. He grabs the cup and finishes the rest of the ice cream with a flourish, shooting you a grin to mask his own blush. He’s failing miserably at trying to mask his excitement, making you snicker as you remember the words that always find a way to spill from his lips, “You are just the cutest thing, the most precious person I know.” You feel the warmth beginning to spread where his touch meets your skin as you relish in the comfort of his embrace before you hear his voice, “Let’s hurry up and get you out of the cold before you get a fever then!” He folds you into his arms and dashes the rest of the way home, making it to your apartment in record time. Typically, Itadori is used to you being docile during these hours, especially with the rainfall, but damn it, it is his birthday, and you have pent-up energy. The sugar rush from the ice cream fueled you as you bound over to your bedroom to grab your gear and floor mat. “Gear up birthday boy,” you say as you toss him his pads and gloves. “We’re gonna have our own sparring match,” you smirk, with a devilish glint in your eyes. “Try not to make me sweat too early, and you can see what I have on underneath...” you tease, making him blush. “I don’t want to…. hurt you-” you cut him off with a quick kiss and bound back to your original position, across from him on the mat in your living room. “I have every confidence that you won’t hurt me,” you say, your mischievous grin blooming across your face, “in ways that I won’t like.”

Once the pair of you have geared up, you implement your first strike. Sweeping your left foot across the floor to trip him over, which he swiftly jumps up to avoid, then comes crashing down on top of you. Being caged between his toned arms and feeling his body weight hover over your much smaller frame, accelerates your heart rate. He might have you pinned, but you’ve got a trick up your sleeve. You hoist yourself up, allowing you to whisper in his ear, “Earn your gift this year, birthday boy.” You feel his body tense up as you lay back to wrap your thick thighs around him, positioning your hips to the left, and thrusting all your strength to your right. Luckily Itadori was caught off guard and is tossed to the mat with you now on top caging him in, smiling as you look down on him. Positioning yourself over his crotch, you twerk your left ass cheek to see his cheeks burn bright maroon, clashing with the pink of his hair. Am I actually gonna win this time? You lose yourself in the rush of successfully throwing him down, but that quickly halts when he takes his hands and locks his grip on your hip. “Let me show you something,” he says, through a shit eating grin, he thrusts up against you, and makes you gasp, but the delicious friction and force don’t stop there. The initial thrust was just a tease, the aftershock that followed had you dropping your mouth open in a silent moan. You felt a heavier thrust go up against your core but the vibrations radiated up through your stomach, rumbling in your chest. Your nipples pebbled, goosebumps flashed against your skin and of course, you fluster, shielding your face in embarrassment from being distracted so soon. “Don’t hide your face, I want to see.” Itadori’s request is gentle and has you dropping your hands to your sides. “If you really want to, let's continue, that was a pretty good move you pulled earlier,” he says, smiling when he slides out from under you and readies himself for the next bout, feet parted, fists up and eyes locked on you. “Okay, I’ll make it count,” you say, more to yourself than to him, before you take two bounds cartwheeling over to him, widening your legs to have them wrap around either side of his head to subdue him. Your heart rate soars with the rush for the second time, but your attention has been pulled from your victory when you feel the heat radiate from Yuji’s breath huff at your center through your thin tights. You were not going to last, with him being so hands on this way. Your inevitable defeat was on the horizon when Itadori starts to growl in between your thighs before biting the plush of them, forcing his face deeper into your core, inhaling deeply, and visibly appreciating the sweet scent of your growing arousal. When he wrestles you onto the mat, he finally tears his face away from you long enough to shoot you a wink and sink his teeth into the waistband of your tights and panties. Hooking his fingers on either side he slides them down your legs without breaking eye contact. Once you are freed of your bottoms, he grabs your right leg and kisses a slow hot trail of kisses up your calf, nipping the back of your knee, smiling as you twitch and whine beneath him. Finally, his heavy calloused hands tighten a bruising grip around your waist, trapping you in his hold. Not that you would be able to shake him off at this point.

Once again Yuji separates his hot mouth from the sensitive flesh of your thigh. “Tiger Lily, I’m so hungry,” he pouts at you, brushing his soft lips against your legs. “You ate so much at the party though,'' you say, but stop when you see a glimmer of mischief in his tawny irises. “Not for food,” he pauses, to leave his tongue over a spot on your thigh and harshly sinks his teeth into you. Growling as he releases his hold on you, waiting for your answer.

Nodding with growing need you say, “Happy Birthday Tiger~” He smiles, and you feel your heart skip a beat before he plunges his face back between your thighs. You gasp when you feel him slide his tongue between your folds, slipping the muscle up and down your entrance, making you clamp down on emptiness, and drawing whines from your pursed lips. The sight makes the blood rush straight to Yujii’s cock, causing him to move with more purpose and urgency. When you feel his grip tighten you sense he is up to something and grip at the mat to ground yourself. He flicks his tongue against your sensitive bud making you start to tremble and heighten the volume of your whimpers. “You are so cute like this tiger lily,” the heat of his breath lilts against your soaking core as he looks up at you, “Can you give me more of those sounds? Please...” He coos. You meet his gaze, the hunger in his eyes contrasting the softness in his voice. “Y-yes, I- I can do that,” you moan, making him smile. “Maybe if I do this. I can make you really sing me happy birthday.” His face vanishes as he returns to where he is nestled between your legs just before you feel two of his thick fingers slip in, quickly picking up the pace. You gasp, your pussy tightening around him as his lips wrap around your throbbing clit, moaning into you. He’s almost ravenous, his tongue lapping up every drop of your essence as his fingers send delicious waves of pressure pulsing inside your plush walls. You’re already so close when he pulls away, his voice breathy and low, ''You're the sweetest thing I’ve tasted all night baby. I want more…” You start to writhe and buck your hips against him, the lewd sounds of him slurping up your juices and groaning his appreciation along with the delicious friction his thick calloused fingers were delivering, were harmonizing together in tightening the coil in your core. When he slams his fingers against your sweet spot you buck up against his stilled hand, managing to inhale to fill your lungs once, before you empty them in a wanton moans, the effects of his divergent fist rippling through your pulsing walls. The pleasure has you seeing sparks, and your body stills while the residual waves of your first orgasm crests over you. All the while, Yuji waits for you to return to your senses, stroking your cheek and whispering, “I’m right here baby, you're doing so well for me.”

His hands cup your cheeks and when you open your eyes, you see him warmly smiling at you, then leaning in to kiss you. You moan at the taste of your essence on his tongue. The sound of your voice spurs him to advance his ministrations on your body. As the effects of your first orgasm ebb away and your heart rate lowers, you once again try to flip him on the mat, pouting when he stiffens his hardened toned body. “I wanted to take care of you, you’re not playing fair,” you say, feigning annoyance as a smile spreads across your lips. You give him a playful shove at his firm peck. “Aw, Tiger lily,” he muses, pausing to nuzzle into the crook of your neck as he raises your arms above your head. You feel his fingertips trailing down your arms stopping at the swell of your breasts, kneading then gently before caressing your sides and whisking the flimsy top away that was separating his bare chest from yours. The sight of your bare body underneath him, makes his pulse flood his ears, and the cord in his core tightens. Unconsciously, he ruts into your thighs, locking eyes with you before he speaks, “Seeing you like this, so vulnerable and open to falling apart at my hands, it’s the best gift you could give me.” You watch his gaze as he takes in every inch of your bare flesh before him, tracing his fingers along every stretch mark and scar kissing your bare middle. “You’re so fucking beautiful.” It’s a declaration from his parted lips, as he peppers kisses up the length of your body, his fingers gripping your waist tighter the higher he goes. “I want more...” his teeth nip at your breasts, “Do you think you can quench my thirst baby?” He growls into your throat, groping hungrily at your breasts. Teasing the peaked nipple of your right, while circling the sensitive skin of the other with his tongue, his hot breath panting against you. Your chest starts to heave for air as your blood starts to run hot in your body. He is filling you with an insatiable need for more. You buck your hips down to him, as he continues his barrage of stimulation coming up for air before alternating breasts and teasing you further. His rutting has increased in pressure, his groans and moans fill your ears and begin making your drip more of your arousal down between your thighs. “I’m all yours tiger,” you breathe out to him, as you weave your fingers into his hair and pull him into another heated kiss, snaking your legs around his waist, moaning into his mouth as he blindly guides the tip of his slick cock head through your soaked lips. When he pushes his throbbing tip into your entrance you immediately feel the stretch and shudder from the pleasure. “I’ve got you,” his voice warm and caressing your neck before he brings his face closer to yours, “Tell me if you want me to stop, I wanted to prep you more but-“ you give his bottom lip a sharp nip. “You know I’m no stranger to pain, hurt me baby.” You run your nails down his scalp and watch his eyelids flutter.

His pupils blow to the size of saucers, crowned by the warm cinnamon brown halo of his irises. His resolve is seconds away from shredding at the promise of your surrender, the instinctive need to dominate and mark you, claw at him as he thrusts inch by inch into you, only for you to gain ground and crush your hips into his. His heated skin slicked with a sheen of sweat beads at his temples as he restrains his movements, embracing the way your cunt greedily swallows him inside. You twitch and moan to the way he stretches you out and fills you, almost too much. The burn from the stretch is laced with pleasure from the sounds of how he desires you and his gluttony for more. Feeling how tight you are Yuji, forms slow tight circles on your clit, collecting your arousal and using your sinful fluids to ease the ache, acclimating your walls to his girth. When you whimper and moan looking up at him pitifully biting your bottom lip, he starts to indulge you and move. Rocking his hips slow at first, but quickly gaining speed. The sensation of his engorged veins slipping past the ridges of your core springs tears in your eyes from the friction. You can feel him pulsate inside you, as he throws your legs over his shoulders and crashes his hips into yours. When you open your eyes, you see the familiar indigo glowing around Yujii’s, his eyes are darkened and he has the look of dominance surrounding him, but when your eyes meet, he gives you his warm smile that melts your heart, and silently reassures you that he has you. Relaxing into his hold that’s where you feel it, the sharp snap of his hips, forging ripples of pleasure throughout your body. The initial thrust was rocking your core already, but he had other plans with his cursed energy, the aftershocks caused a powerful undertow of pressure. Each thrust into you was followed by two surges of energy emitting from the impact of him slamming into your gummy walls. Your mewls, moans and sighs kept pushing him to further pound into you. Scooping you up, Yuji repositions you to have your face down on the mat, and ass up in the air. He couldn’t restrain himself from licking another hot strip up through your lips and spreading you, gripping a handful of your ass in each hand. He loves how plush, soft and pliant you are. Indulging into his senses he sinks his teeth into the swell of your ass, drawing out another moan from you. “That’s it baby...I want to hear all of it. Don’t hold back.” He finishes with a hard slap to your ass and watches the force, making your ass clap together. “I don’t think I can hold back any more babe.” He says as he pumps himself admiring your ass. You push up onto your elbows, looking back at him with a smirk, “Then tear me apart, Tiger.” you say, salaciously swinging your hips to him. That’s all he needed to plunge deep into you, throwing caution to the wind. When he plunges into you at this angle, you feel him quickly finding your sweet spot. “There-please baby, right there,” you plead, losing your breath with every thrust. Yuji smooths his palms down the expanse of your back, raking his blunt nails as he drags his hands back to the swell of your ass. All while he plunges into you at a punishing pace. The room echoes the sounds of his hips crashing into you, and the slap of his balls against your clit. When his movements start to stutter he grabs you by your hips, and pulls you down onto his cock as he drives his cock deep into you. The tip of his cock only and inch away from your cervix, but the divergent energy delivers enough waves of force throughout your contracting walls to reach your cervix, pushing you into the hazy depths of your orgasm, that has your entire being trembling as your pussy milks him for all he’s worth, filling you past your limit. Yuji goes crossed eyed gripping onto you for grounding as the waves of pleasure wrack through him too. When both of you collapse onto each other on the mat, you lay in an embrace until you catch your breath. “ I love you,” you say as you kiss his lips. He returns the kiss, wrapping his arms snuggly around your

waist. “ I love you too..” he trails off “what’s wrong?” you ask.

“Well...I did say I was hungry, and you fed me, but now, I’m even more thirsty,” He looks down at you with a devilish grin, holding you even tighter as he continues, “I want to make you squirt on my tongue.” Your eyes widen as you feel your core tightening all over again, “Are you ready for another go?” he asks. You smirk back up at him, “We have all night Tiger, do your worst.”

#Itadori x reader #itadori yuuji #jjk smut #jjk x reader

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autumnleaves1991-blog · 4 years ago

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Day 24: Something Was Off- Agent Whiskey

Day 24: Something Was Off - Agent Whiskey

Pairing: Agent Whiskey x Reader (Apple)

This prompt was requested by @littlevodika. Thank you so much for the request and I hope you enjoy this continuation of the Whiskey/Apple relationship.

Taglist: @oldstuffnewstuff @josepedropascal

This is part three, you can read the other two parts below.

Part 1 (Day 1 Heartbeat) Part 2 (Day 8 Dot, Dot, Dot)

November Writing Challenge Masterlist

Day 23: Whispers - Will ‘Ironhead’ Miller

“You are my sunshine, my only sunshine. You make me happy when skies are grey. You’ll never know dear how much I love you. So please don’t take my sunshine away…” Jack ‘Whiskey’ Daniels serenades the small bundle in his arms.

All swaddled in a pink blanket, Magnolia Daniels eyes droop and a small smile graces her sweet little face as she watches her daddy sway to the music. The sounds of his deep velvety voice and his warm chest lull her into sleep.

Jack places a kiss on her forehead before laying her in the bassinet beside your side of the bed. He crawls back into bed and wraps his long arms around you tucking you back into his chest, and sighing. “Thank you,” he whispers, “that little girl and you are my entire world,” he kisses your head gently before drifting back off to sleep.

Maggie makes her presence known several hours later when she wakes with the sunshine and begins to fuss. You lift her from the bassinet and pull down your sleep shirt, putting her to your breast to suckle. You close your eyes to get a few more moments of sleep when you feel eyes on you.

You slowly open to see Jack watching you both with rapt attention. This has always been his favorite part of you becoming parents, he loves to watch his daughter eat. “That is a sight I will never tire of sugar,” he croons at you.

After you switch and she finishes he eagerly scoops her up and burps her against his shoulder. Dipping down to kiss you sweetly, “you sleep mama, I will make breakfast for us, and then we can get going.”

You smile and nod watching the former playboy of Statesman babble nonsense to his infant daughter. So much had changed since you found out you were pregnant. Jack had resigned from fieldwork, only working on training new recruits. You had cut back on your hours in the weapons design lab. Both of you in favor of spending more time with your precious girl.

In the six months since she had been born you both hadn’t left her side but tonight for the first time that was going to change. Uncle Tequila was going to give you both a much needed night out while he watched his goddaughter.

Tequila had been your best friend since preschool and had even recommended you for the job at Statesman. He was the most supportive friend you could have asked for and loved little Magnolia almost as much as you and Jack. He doted on her endlessly and never failed to show up with some toy or trinket for her from his travels. When Jack had asked him about watching her you were pleasantly surprised and Tequila was ecstatic.

It took a few days to even prepare for going out with pumping extra milk, but the idea of a few hours alone with Jack was too good to pass up. You drifted back to sleep dreaming of a romantic night out with your boyfriend.

When you later roused from sleep it was to the smell of freshly brewed coffee and bacon. You shower and get dressed quickly before walking into the living room and sweeping your daughter into your arms. She giggles and holds your cheeks before pulling tightly on your hair. You look up and see Jack with a big smile on his face as he watches his two favorite girls.

The rest of the day passes uneventfully as you handle the daily chores, nap time, diaper changes, tummy time, and feedings. Jack is always there to help with everything, and before long Uncle Tequila is at the door holding a small wooden maraca.

“I was in Spain last week and had to get something for my Maggie Moo,” he coos at the little girl whose eyes brighten at her favorite Uncle.

You kiss him on the cheek, “thank you Tequila for watching her.”

“Anything for my sweet goddaughter. You’re prettier than a Magnolia in May,” he tickles her gently.

You run to your room and change into a white sundress with bright yellow sunflowers on it, brown cowgirl boots, and your jean jacket. Coming back out to see Jack dressed in his cowboy boots, dark jeans, maroon button-up, black leather jacket, and trusty black stetson. You take a moment to appreciate the fine broad specimen you had acquired. Damn, he is too sexy, words don’t do him justice.

“Sweet Jesus sugar, you are the most beautiful woman to grace this earth,” he pulls you close and plants a kiss on your lips. Giggling as he turns toward his daughter, “isn’t your mama beautiful?” he questions kissing her cheeks before giving her to you. You kiss her and hug her close before giving her over to her Uncle.

“Now you remember, the extra milk is already bottled and in the fridge, and all the important numbers are on the fridge, and we can be reached if you need anything just call ou-”

“Apple! Go out with Whiskey, I got this.” Tequila pushes you both out the front door locking it behind you.

“Did we just get kicked out of our own apartment?” you point back towards the door and then at a laughing Jack.

“It would seem so sugar. Come on,” he grabs your hand, “I have something special planned for tonight.”

“You’ve been very hush-hush about this night out...what are you planning Jack?” you question.

Jack only smiles before helping you into the Bronco. You pass through the city lights of downtown Kentucky. The penthouse where you lived was close to Statesman but not exactly where you had imagined raising your children.

You drive for another thirty minutes before you turn off the highway into a less populated area. Something was off, this didn’t seem like a normal night out with dinner or a movie, you were out in the middle of nowhere.

You pull into the driveway of a ranch-style house, the nearest neighbor half a mile down the road. You slowly get out the bronco, “Where...where are we, Jack?”

He says nothing only leads you to the door and unlocks it pulling you inside. The house is gorgeous, a mix of farmhouse and craftsman style features. Large vaulted ceilings with wooden beams and cherry hardwood floors. He flicks on a light and in the middle of the floor is a blanket, pillows, and a picnic basket.

He leads you over to the set-up and pulls you down to sit against him as he pours you each a glass of Apple Whiskey a personal favorite of yours. “Jack...this is incredible...but, what is all this?” you gesture to the space around you.

“Well as of three o’clock yesterday this is our house sugar,” he holds your hand lightly.

“You...you bought us a house?” your eyes brim with unshed tears.

He nods, before standing to pace the room. “I...I know how much you hate living in the city and Magnolia needs space to run and grow in the great outdoors. The whole property is five acres, with plenty of space for us. There’s even a small apple orchard outback. I...I wanted to make a gesture to tell you how much I love you, and how much I want to be with you.”

“Oh Jack,” you rise to your feet and pull him down to kiss you. Wrapping your arms around his neck, your forehead resting against his. “I love you so damn much Jack Daniels.”

“This is one more thing...I bought for the house, I feel like every house deserves a good door mat. Why don’t you go look at the one I picked out.”

You laugh, “I don’t know how the mat can compete with this house but I am eager to see what you picked out,” you walk over to the door and look down.

Daniels Family Est. 2021

The air is knocked out of your lungs and you spin to find Jack behind you on one knee. “Oh my god…” you whisper.

“Agent Apple, weapons guru of Statesman, mother of my beautiful Magnolia, and the love of my life. I will love and protect you forever with everything that I have darlin’. I want to live in this house with you, have more babies with you, laugh, make love, and grow old with you.” Tears swim in his eyes as he pulls out a small ring box and pops the lid revealing a silver ring with a princess cut emerald surrounded by a circle of diamonds.

“Will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?” he asks.

“YES!” you shout dropping to your knees and kissing him, “yes, Jack a thousand times, yes!”

He slides the ring onto your finger, and you admire it. The moment is interrupted by the shrill sound of the cell phone. Jack pulls his out and answers on Facetime.

“Did you ask yet?! Did she say yes?!” Tequila begs holding up a giggling Magnolia up to the screen.

You laugh, “YES! I did say yes!”

“Yahoo! Did ya hear that Maggie Moo your mama and daddy are gonna get married!” she squeals and claps.

You look up at Jack and smile, this was your family and you couldn’t wait to make him your husband.

#kingsman golden circle #November writing challenge #jack whiskey daniels #Agent Whiskey #Agent Whiskey x reader #agent tequila #Day 24

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