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threadbearsweater · 1 day ago

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one warm day is all i really need | arthur morgan

When you find yourself taken in by a gang of outlaws, the last thing you expect is to grow sweet on one of them- and have the feelings reciprocated. Arthur Morgan doesn't have time for romantic nonsense, but a few memebers of the gang want to make sure that he gets to indulge in his obvious affection toward you. Tags: 3.9k words, an unlikely romance, meddling gang members (with the purest of intentions, one might suppose); female reader, alcohol use, smoking, emotional smut. A repost from a (regretfully) deactivated blog.

Arthur first notices your eyes on him one evening around the campfire at Shady Belle. He won’t accuse you of staring– Lord knows he’s been known to look at you with the same foolish grin you’re wearing now– but he tips his hat to acknowledge you. The heat in your cheeks is suddenly warmer than what the fire has already provided; your grin only grows until your teeth are showing, and you duck your head into your shoulder to hide. Arthur takes a long swig from his whiskey bottle and grimaces as it goes down. He hasn't had a drop of anything in days, and the burn takes a little while to grow numb to now.

“Think she's sweet on you, Morgan,” Sean says in his Irish lilt, giving Arthur an elbow in the ribs.

“Naw, she's lookin’ at you,” Arthur deflects, though he hopes he's wrong. He thinks he knows.

“She told me last week to keep my eyes on my own work,” Sean continues. “I really don't think it's me she wants, Arthur.”

You turn to whisper something to Sadie, who laughs out loud with her face tilted toward the stars. You dare a glance back at Arthur, who is, in fact, looking at you.

Maybe there's some truth to what Mary Beth told you yesterday.

“Arthur's been awful quiet lately.”

The sun shines through the trees and dapples the table where you're seated with bright spots of pale yellow. It's your third round of dominoes with Mary-Beth, and she's whooping your ass, as usual. You don't know how she does it, but each game you play, you're a little more privy to her prowess.

“You think so? I don't know him as well as you.” You hope it isn't obvious that your heart started beating a little faster at the mention of his name. It leaves you breathless.

“Oh yeah,” Mary-Beth continues. “He's been scratchin’ away in that journal of his a lot more, too.” She leans closer, conspiratorial, her eyes twinkling with the gossip she's about to share. “Karen said he went to town twice last week to have a hot bath. If you knew Arthur like I know Arthur, why…you'd know that's highly out of character for him.”

“But you said he'd been quiet. Is that unusual for him, too?”

She hums and purses her lips. “Well you see, Arthur isn't usually a man of many words on a good day. But it's been real bad lately. He don't even give John a hard time like usual.”

You ponder the dominoes for a moment and then make your move. It doesn't earn you any points, but at least you didn't have to draw. “What do you think the problem is?” you ask, nonchalant as possible.

Mary-Beth smiles. Big and bright and sparkling. “Oh, it's not a problem at all.” She lowers her voice and cups her hand to her mouth. “Arthur's in love.”

You gasp, then giggle behind your hand, and Mary-Beth follows suit. Hosea looks on and shakes his head, so you quiet down, reaching across to grab Mary-Beth's hands. “Who do you think it is?”

Her cheeks are tinted pink, and she looks around to make sure there aren't any ears to hear. Word travels fast around camp if one isn't prudent. “I think it's you.”

A thunderstorm rips through Shady Belle a little over a week later. Your little tent that you share with Sadie is ripped straight off its supports in a terrible gust of wind, and you and the others hightail it inside the house to take cover just as it begins to hail. There's quite a ruckus as everyone huddles inside, windblown and rain-soaked. A few of the men hold up lanterns to illuminate the darkness while you watch the lightning and feel the thunder shake the old bones of the house.

“Everyone just calm down,” Dutch calls, descending the stairs, wearing some ridiculous robe with his arms spread wide. “Are we really gonna let a little old thunderstorm keep us from getting a good night's sleep?”

“Says the man with a bed inside the house,” Arthur bites, rounding the corner from what used to be the kitchen, holding a lantern up high in front of him. “Dutch, you better allow these ladies to take cover in here for tonight, or I'll–”

“Or you'll what, Mister Morgan? Pray tell, what kind of man do you take me for?” Dutch's eyes are fiery as he stares Arthur down; a display of dominance. A veritable cockfight.

Arthur's jaw twitches, but he doesn't back down. “The kind of man I should hope would have some goddamn respect for his family.”

There's a tense moment or two where everyone is quiet, then Dutch relents. “Fine, fine! But I expect everyone out there pitching in to clean up in the morning.” He points at Arthur and raises his voice again. “That includes the other man with a bed inside the house,” he sneers.

Arthur shakes his head, then looks away only to catch sight of you, shivering in your wet undergarments, huddled close to Mary-Beth for what little warmth the two of you can share. For a minute, he forgets to breathe, then composes himself enough to cross the room.

“Come on in here. Get yourself warm and dry by the fire.” His hand on your elbow is rough but warm as he leads you toward the fireplace. You nod and look back at Mary-Beth, who shoos you away with a flick of her wrist and a wink; you notice that her teeth are chattering. Despite the humidity that hangs heavy in the air, the temperature has turned chilly with the storm.

Arms crossed over your bosom to preserve any shred of modesty you might have left, you allow yourself to be led away by Arthur. Dutch and some of the others head upstairs while Charles and Javier keep watch from the front porch.

“You alright?” Arthur asks. He covers your shoulders with one of his heavy winter coats, and you pull it around you, grateful for the weight and warmth of it. Another clap of thunder shakes the house and you jump. Arthur chuckles.

“You laughin’ at me?” you quip, placing your palms flat in the direction of the fireplace. You don't even bother to hide the grin you feel curling on your lips.

“No madam, I am not,” Arthur says earnestly, taking a seat beside you on the old wooden crate he's set up as a makeshift bench.

“Then just what do you find so funny, Mister Morgan?”

He scratches the back of his neck, looking into the flames. “Aw, I dunno. I'm sorry. It's just that you're…”

You bump him with your hip, unable to stop the giggles that bubble up from your chest. “I'm what?” you pry.

There's a clatter of something falling on the front porch, and Arthur uses it as a good excuse to get out of this hole he's dug for himself. “I better go see what's going on out there. Charles might need my help.”

“I'm what, Arthur?!” you call, to no avail. He's gone before he can see the proverbial hearts in your eyes.

The saloon in Rhodes is a little nicer than the ones you visited in Valentine, though it's a far cry from the ones you used to frequent in Saint Denis. Still, when Sadie and the other girls decide that it's high time you have a little fun in town, you throw on your best dress and let Karen curl your hair and even apply a little of the makeup you snagged from a homestead up north. For the first time in months, you feel like a proper woman. There isn't time to be melancholy about the past, though, when the boys start whistling and cat-calling upon the sight of you and the other girls.

“Aw, knock it off!” Sadie hollers. She's decided to dress up a little tonight, too, much to everyone's surprise. But she hikes up her skirts to hop into the wagon, calling for the rest of you all to hurry it up. “I've got a bottle of rum with my name on it that's waiting for me to come drink her all down!”

You catch the sunset on the way to town. It's dazzling over the meadows, all golden light and warm, blazing oranges and reds that settle into a brilliant pink by the time your reach the main road into Rhodes. You wish you could see Arthur's eyes, but he's got a handle on the reins next to Charles in the front of the wagon. You've seen him watching the sunset before; he always looks so peaceful those evenings at camp, and you often wonder what he thinks about in those few minutes before the horizon is painted in pastel hues.

Karen starts singing a song that everyone eventually joins, and before you know it, you're pulling up in front of the Rhodes Parlour House. You can already hear the piano and a few voices from outside; the sound of it stirs something in your soul that makes you long for the familiarity of home, but you quickly shove it aside in favor of the company of your new family.

“Madam.” Arthur's voice brings you out of your thoughts and back into the present, where he waits at the back of the wagon with his hand extended to you. You beam at him, and he feels dizzy. And when your soft hand fits into his, he straightens his knees so they don't buckle and betray him.

“Why, thank you, kind sir,” you say, lifting the hem of your skirts to step out onto the dirt road.

Arthur leans in, dangerously close to your ear. You can smell the whisky and cigarettes on his breath, along with the faint tang of gunpowder and hair pomade. “You sure do look nice in that dress.”

You demure and fan yourself with your hand. “Just how much have you had to drink already tonight?” you giggle.

“Ahh, just a little nip to take the edge off.”

“Mm-hm. Sure, Arthur. Whatever you say.”

The night starts off relatively calm, as most nights do. You and the other girls find an empty table to sit and pick up on the town gossip, and the men start a hand of poker. It grows loud and crowded sometime around midnight, and it's hard to have a conversation without shouting over the din of voices, the clink of glass bottles, and the slow drag ragtime music from the piano. The ambiance is charming and lighthearted, and there are even a few couples drunkenly dancing on the porch.

You push back in your chair and find that when you stand, you're a little more wobbly than you thought you would be. The alcohol has loosened you more than you realize, and you grip the table for support until you feel a firm arm around your waist. “Whoa there.”

It's Arthur, who has won the last round of poker and has come to check in on you and the other ladies. You're pulled tight against his chest for one fleeting moment, and you look up into his eyes. He, too, seems drunk, with his eyes gleaming and drooping at the corners, his smile easy and his cheeks flushed.

“My knight in shining armor,” you slur, pretending to faint in his embrace. He only pulls you tighter against him, both of his broad hands splayed across your back. You laugh, and he smiles.

“You weren't getting another drink, were ya?” he questions with a raise of his brow.

“‘m thirsty,” you whine, lifting your empty glass entirely too close to his face. It knocks against his nose, which sends you into another fit of laughter.

Arthur takes your wrist– gentle but firm– and lowers the glass away. “Think you need to drink something that's not whiskey,” he drawls. You can't help but watch the way his lips form around the words; the slip of his tongue between his teeth, the way his mouth turns up into the hint of a smile when you pout. Before you can think too long and hard about it, you lunge forward and kiss him. Hard and clumsy and impulsive. You don't give him time to react. You're far too involved in the kiss to notice, but the girls at the table behind you have all gone silent. Arthur slides his hand along the side of your face and presses his fingers upon the nape of your neck, kissing you back like he really means it. (He really does.)

You pull back suddenly, breathless and reeling, swiping the back of your hand over your mouth. You're still held firm in his embrace, but the playfulness in his gaze has been replaced with an intensity that makes your knees weak all over again.

“What'd ya do that for?” he asks.

“Could ask you the same thing.”

“Well, you started it.”

“And you finished it.”

“Oh, I ain't finished with you, yet.”

“That a promise or a threat?” Your pulse is thumping wildly in your ears.

“Ya know, they got rooms upstairs for that!” Sadie shouts. There's a ripple of laughter across the table. Arthur's hand on your cheek feels like a brand, his arm about your waist an anchor. The rest of the room comes back to you in a woozy blur, and you look around, a little lovestruck and a whole lot drunk. Arthur's lips at your temple make your eyes flutter shut, and the room fades to black as tIt'weight of you slumps against him. He staggers only slightly, but holds you firm, chuckling softly.

“It's a promise,” he whispers.

You come to some hours later. Your mouth is dry as the desert, your head feels like lead, your skin broken out in a cold, uncomfortable sweat. At some point, it seems you were covered with a downy soft blanket, and the pillow at your head is much more fluffy than the makeshift one you made out of a bedroll at camp. At first, you think you're dreaming. Then, you wonder very briefly if you're back at your childhood home in Saint Denis. You almost call out to your mother when you hear a soft snore from the other side of your bed.

The room spins when you turn your head, and you rub your eyes until Arthur comes into focus. He's sprawled in an armchair a few feet away. His arms are crossed over his chest while his chin is tucked into his chest. Off to the side, you spy his boots; his big toe pokes through a hole in his sock and you smile at how vulnerable he looks.

“Arthur,” you whisper, shifting slightly as you pull the blanket up around your chin.

He grunts and lifts his head slowly. He frowns a little at first, but when he focuses on you lying there, so close he could reach out and kiss you again like he did last night, there's a slow, easy smile that spreads across his face.

“Hey there, party girl. You feeling alright?”

You could kick yourself for all the giggling you've done around him lately, but you can't help it. He brings out something giddy and downright foolish inside you, so you toss a pillow at him and bury your face in the sheets.

“Aw, come on now. I'm just messin’ with ya.” He leans forward and rubs your head affectionately. “I'd say you were feeling pretty good last night.”

It's in that moment a white-hot jolt of sheer panic shoots down your spine. Quickly, you check to make sure you're still wearing clothes. Aside from your breasts being a little lopsided in the confines of your bodice, you're relieved to find that your dress is still intact and– more importantly– on your body. You dare another peek at Arthur and notice that his shirt is unbuttoned down to the middle of his chest and he's discarded his vest somewhere, but he, too, is fully clothed. Thank the good Lord above.

You must've said that last part aloud, because Arthur laughs. “Don't worry, nothing happened. Though it weren't for lack of tryin’ on your part,” he says, scratching the back of his neck. “Thought I was gonna have to lock you in here like some feral cat till you settled down.”

Oh. Oh Lord. You try to recall what happened that led you to this room, but all that comes to mind is a lot of loud conversation, some dancing, a spilled drink across Sadie's lap, and Arthur's hand on the side of your cheek. “Oh…”

Now you remember it in vivid detail.

“Didn't know you cared for me like that,” he says. It's earnest and tender, a few shades less intense than the kiss you now recall, the one where it felt like he wanted to eat you alive right there in the middle of the saloon. Now, he thumbs your cheek and looks at you so fondly you swear your heart jumps right up in your throat. “I mean, I'd been hoping. Wasn't sure you was looking for a romance.” He huffs a short sigh, frustrated with himself. “Aw, hell, what am I saying? ‘Course you weren't. You're just looking to survive, just like the rest of us, and here I–”

“Shut up,” you say, taking hold of his hand and tugging him closer. He resists until you pull even harder, watching the fire in your eyes blaze to life. “You talk too much, Yankee.”

“I ain't no damn–”

“Kiss me.”

He's over you in an instant; you're pressed flat against the bed, completely and totally at his mercy. This kiss feels different than the drunken one last night. It's sober and honest, if not a little hesitant, as if he's holding himself back from devouring you wholly. The warmth of his body against yours takes your breath away. Or maybe it's the way his tongue laves heavy into your mouth, unashamed of how badly he craves the taste of you. You grip his hair at the roots and tug him down to kiss him harder, lifting your upper body to meet him until he presses down, his chest flush with yours.

Things get heated quickly.

His mouth moves across your cheek, down your neck, and he groans against your skin, rutting his cock against your thigh. You fleetingly wish that he had managed to get you out of that dress before he presumably tucked you into bed and passed out in that chair, because there’s a whole lot of fabric between you and him that really pisses you off right now. Arthur must feel much the same, because he’s bunching your skirts up past your knees while you’re fumbling with his belt buckle, desperate to feel him against you, inside you. It’s clumsy and crazed, rushed and rough, but you manage somehow to shuck off every last bit of your clothes and his until you’re breathless and so, so eager beneath him.

“Need you now,” you whine. You feel insane. Dizzy and dehydrated, impossibly turned on, every nerve ending on fire when his callused hands grip the fat of your thighs and open you to him.

“Greedy little thing, ain’t ya?” One of his hands slips between your legs to find you wet and swollen. He presses the pad of his thumb against your clit and pushes a finger inside you; the sound you make nearly has him finishing there on the sheets, so he wastes no time in getting himself as close to you as humanly possible.

“Never wanted something so bad,” he murmurs into the dip of your shoulder. He wants all of you– all at once– wants to fuse his hands against your skin and sink himself into you so deep that it would be impossible to tell where he ends and you begin. The heat from his body takes away what little breath you have left, his mouth on each part of your body building the buzz in your chest until you feel like you might just burst open. You grabbed at each other like it was the first and last time you might have this opportunity, as if you wanted more than what the other of you was able to give.

Considering the kind of life you’ve both led so far, it’s a good possibility that you might never get to do this again.

“Give it to me,” you plead, opening yourself further to him, fingers wrapped firm around the base of his cock. “Please.”

Arthur Morgan is a man of incredible strength and self restraint, except when it comes to a woman like you.

There’s nothing gentle about the way he takes you. It’s primal, sweaty, filthy, rough. Arthur pushes as far inside you as he can go, then pushes further when you beg for more. He cups your knees with slick palms and presses you open as far as you can bend; you tug roughly at his hair and bite down on his shoulder when the pleasure builds to a blinding ferocity. The wooden bedframe knocks angrily against the wall with each thrust, but you can’t bring yourself to care if anyone hears. You can’t focus on anything beyond the feeling of him filling you with every stroke of his cock, of the taut, corded muscle in his back and shoulders as you grapple to hang on as tight as you can. Your orgasm hits your hard and fast, and he encourages you through it, taking his time to give you long, controlled strokes. It’s as pleasurable for him as it is for you. “‘Atta girl,” he rasps, lips moving against your ear. Your hand flies to your mouth to muffle your cries, but he pulls it away and threads his fingers with yours, pressing it onto the pillow. “I wanna hear it.”

Your moans are what drive him over the edge.

He buries his face against the side of your neck, panting heavily as he comes, driving into you so hard that you can almost feel the mattress beneath you begin to sag under the weight. You cradle his head in your hands and link your legs around his waist, boneless and languid in the aftermath of your own pleasure. When he moves, you move with him, riding out the waves together until you’re both too tired to move another muscle.

Neither of you speak for a while. He lies on his back with an arm around your shoulders while you curl against him, tuned into his heartbeat and swirling little patterns into the hair on his chest. It’s comforting to feel him next to you, to watch his chest rise and fall as he steadies his breathing, to soak up the warmth of his skin against yours.

You’re the first to break the silence. “Did everyone else go back to camp last night?”

Arthur nods slowly. “Something tells me they planned all this.”

“Planned it? You mean…” You lift your arm slowly and flick your wrist to acknowledge the room you’re laying in. “This?” You lift your chin and grin at him. “Or getting us together?”

“Room was paid for before I even had a chance to ask if they had one,” he explains. “Think it was Mrs. Adler.”

You vaguely recall her shouting something about a room after you kissed Arthur last night, and you shake your head. “You complaining?”

He turns to his side, draping an arm across your hip. “Me? Never.” You’re suddenly pressed beneath him once again; from the looks of it, you won’t be getting out of this bed anytime soon. “Specially when I’ve got you here to help me keep warm.”

#arthur morgan x reader #rdr2 x reader #red dead redeption 2 x reader #arthur morgan smut #my writing

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coolemmasulivan2 · 3 days ago

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There For You

Pairing: Mason Mount x Physician!Reader

Summary: You’re a physician at the club who’s grown close to Mason. However, after he suffers another injury, he begins to distance himself, leaving you confused and unsure of how to help him.

Word count: 2729

I'll be there when you need me most I'll be there if you're ever alone Together, we can grow old I can't leave you

It was your first day back at the training camp after two weeks off, and your stomach twisted in pain as you scanned the list of injured players and Mason’s name was at the top.

You hated seeing his name there. He’d been through so much already, and every setback felt like life was testing him a little too harshly. Ever since moving to the club, he’d spent more time in your office than any player should. It seemed like he couldn’t catch a break.

In those long hours spent tending to his injuries and working on his recovery plans, the two of you had built a beautiful friendship, not because he was a regular in your office, but because of who he was.

Even when he was hurting, Mason had a way of lightening the mood. He always managed a smile. It was the kind of smile that said, I’ll get through this. Somehow, I always do.

Maybe that’s why, little by little, you’d fallen for him. It wasn’t just his courage or his never-quit attitude, it was the way he smiled, even when life knocked him down.

The night before, you had watched the game against City, and you didn’t need to be there in person to know it had happened again. The moment you saw Mason sitting on the field, head down in defeat, your heart broke for him.

"No! Bloody hell! Someone get this guy to a witch." Your dad shouted at the TV, throwing his hands up in frustration. "Someone’s playing with his voodoo doll!"

"Dad!" You called out, shooting him a look as your little nephew that was Mason's fan sank on the sofa.

"What? It’s true!" He replied, shrugging as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. The United scarf around his neck swayed as he turned back to the screen. "The guy’s got more than bad luck."

You opened the door and stepped into the medical office. Mason was already sitting on the examination bed, his head down, eyes fixed on his hands as they opened and closed into tight fists.

"Hey, Mason!" You greeted softly.

His head shot up, his expression briefly surprised. "Hey!" He said, his voice deeper than usual. He didn’t smile like he normally did. "I thought you were still on holiday."

"They don't let me have three weeks off during the Premier League." You said with a small chuckle as you pulled on a pair of blue gloves. "And it’s a good thing they don't Let's have a look?"

He didn’t say anything, just nodded and laid back on the bed, stretching out his legs.

As you started examining his leg, you kept your tone light, hoping to break through his mood. "You've been through worse, right? I mean, you're basically indestructible at this point." That earned you nothing. No laugh, no smile, not even a glance. Just silence.

You focused on your work, carefully testing for swelling and tender areas. Mason didn't flinch, didn't make a sound, but the tension in his jaw told you everything you needed to know.

You sighed softly, stepping back. "Okay."

"It's bad, isn't it?" He asked, his tone clipped, as though he already knew the answer.

You hesitated, choosing your words carefully. "It's not great." You admitted, keeping your voice steady. "The scans will give us the full picture, but you'll need to rest for a few weeks, at least."

At that, Mason let out a short, bitter laugh. "A few weeks. Of course." He shook his head and sat up, his movements stiff and frustrated.

"I know it's frustrating." You said gently, trying to reach him. "But we'll make sure you heal properly, and you'll come back even stronger. You've done it before."

"Yeah." He said flatly, his tone ice-cold. "And look where that got me."

The sharpness of his words stung, catching you off guard. You glanced up, meeting his gaze. His face was hard, his usual warmth replaced with a wall of indifference.

"You're allowed to be upset." You said softly. "This is a tough break, but it's not the end. You're one of the strongest people I know, Mason."

He let out a small, humorless smile that never reached his eyes. "Thanks for the pep talk." He said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "I'll add it to my collection."

Before you could respond, Mason pushed himself off the bed, grabbed his phone from the desk and walked out of the office without a second glance.

You stood there, speechless, the weight of his frustration and pain settling heavily in the room.

"So, he just left?" Your best friend asked, setting her beer down on the table with a thud.

"Yeah!" You said, still in disbelief. "I mean… I get it. He's angry and frustrated with everything going on, but I... I was just trying to help him." You took a long sip of your beer, then lowered your voice to a whisper. "I just want to help him."

Your friend gave you a knowing smile, leaning back in her chair. "You're so down bad for him."

You groaned, running your hands through your hair. "I know."

Your friend chuckled. "Honestly, I don't blame you. The guy's gorgeous. Moody, apparently, but gorgeous."

"It's not just that. It's… He's been through so much, and he still manages to stay so positive. He works harder than anyone I've ever seen. He deserves more than this."

"And yet, he shut you out."

"Yeah." You sighed, slumping back in your chair. "I don’t think it's personal. I think he's just… overwhelmed. But it still stung, you know? We've talked so much before. I thought I..." You paused, trying to find the words. "I thought I could be someone he leaned on."

Your friend reached across the table, squeezing your hand. "He will, eventually. Sometimes guys like him need time. Doesn't mean you're not important to him."

You gave her a grateful look. "I hope you're right."

The next morning, you were in your office early, sipping coffee and organizing your notes. You had barely slept, your mind replaying the tension with Mason over and over.

With a sigh, you shook off the memory and focused on the task at hand, jotting down follow-up plans for a few players. The knock on your door startled you.

"Come in!" You called, glancing up.

Your coworker, James, stepped in, clipboard in hand. "Morning." He said, his tone casual but hesitant, like he was bracing himself for something.

"Morning." You replied, eyeing him curiously. "What's up?"

He hesitated for a moment, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. "Uh… just wanted to give you a heads-up. Mason requested to transfer to me for his treatment plan."

You froze. "What?"

James gave a small shrug. "He asked me this morning. Said he wanted to switch."

"Why?" You asked, the word coming out sharper than you intended.

"I don't know." James said carefully "He didn't say much, just that he thought it would be better for him."

You stared at him, stunned. "Better for him? I don't understand. Why would he…" You trailed off, unable to finish the sentence.

James sighed. "Look, I didn't want to get into it. I know you two are friends, you have a close relationship, but If you want to know why, you're going to have to ask him."

For a moment, you just sat there, trying to make sense of what you’d just heard.

"I see." You said finally, your voice quieter now. "Thanks for letting me know, James."

James gave you a sympathetic look. "Hey, don't take it personally, okay? He's going through a lot. You know how players can get when they're injured. It's probably just his way of dealing with it."

"Yeah." You murmured, forcing a small smile. "I get it."

But as James left, you found yourself staring at your desk, Mason’s name at the top of your notes. Why didn’t he want your help anymore?

Mason was sitting on the bench in the locker room, phone in hand, as he responded to a text from his brother. He barely looked up when Bruno walked in.

"Hey!" Bruno said casually, shrugging off his jacket with an air of ease.

"Hey!" Mason replied, his eyes still glued to his phone. "How was training?"

Bruno snorted, tugging on a clean shirt. "Good." He said shortly, clearly uninterested in lingering on the topic. Instead, he glanced over at Mason. "James told me you switched to him for physio."

Mason shrugged, leaning back. "Yeah. Figured it's better this way."

Bruno raised an eyebrow as he sat down, pulling off his trainers. "Better for you or for her?" His tone was light, but his words hit home.

Mason's jaw tightened as he turned to look at Bruno. "What?"

"You and Y/n seemed close." Bruno said. "She's solid, actually gives a crap about us, which, let's be real, doesn't happen every day."

"James is solid too."

Bruno held up his hands in mock surrender. "Alright, alright. Just saying, she might be wondering why you're icing her out." Mason didn’t answer, his gaze dropping to the floor. Bruno sighed as he stood, slinging his towel over his shoulder. "Whatever you're running from, just make sure you're not pushing the wrong people away, mate."

Mason stayed silent, the weight of Bruno's words settling over him. He kept his head down, listening to the sound of Bruno's footsteps as he disappeared toward the showers.

A week had passed, and you still hadn't managed to speak to Mason in person. You'd tried texting him multiple times, asking if something was wrong, if you'd upset him somehow, but he always left you on read.

Today, you were determined to put an end to the silence. It was your day off, but you knew Mason would be at the camp. So, you drove there, parking directly in front of his car and waiting.

As usual, Mason was one of the last to leave, even though he hadn't been training with the team. He emerged from the building, his bag over his shoulder and his coat zipped all the way up against the cold, as he made his way toward his car.

You took a deep breath and stepped out of your car. He didn't notice you at first, his focus elsewhere, but as you moved closer, emerging from the shadows, he froze on his tracks.

For a moment, neither of you moved. The world around you seemed to fade away, leaving just the two of you standing there under the dim parking lot lights.

You suddenly felt nervous and exposed. You swallowed the lump in your throat. Slowly, both of you began to move, closing the distance until you were close enough to reach out and touch him.

"Hi?" You shot back. An avalanche of words was threatening to tumble out. "That's it? That's all you've got to say? Hi?" Mason opened his mouth, but you didn’t give him the chance. "No, Mason, I don't want your 'Hi.' I want answers. I want to know why. Why did you ask to be transferred to James? Why have you been ignoring me?" You kept going, every bottled-up thought spilling out. Mason stood there, silent, his gaze fixed on you. Even in anger, you were still cute. "Mason?" You demanded, pulling him out of his trance.

He blinked, suddenly lifting his eyes from your lips to meet yours. "What?"

You shook your head, letting out a sigh. "Have I done something wrong?"

Mason's swallowed hard, his gaze breaking away from yours. "You haven't done anything wrong, Y/n!" He said quietly.

Your chest tightened at his words. "Then why?" Your voice cracked, trembling under the weight of your emotions. "I thought we were friends, Mason."

Mason let out a sarcastic chuckle. "That's the problem!"

You furrowed your eyebrows. "What?"

"I-- I don't want to be your friend." He said, his voice just enough to make you freeze. "I don't want to be your friend because I want to be so much more! I want to be the one who carries you to bed when you fall asleep on the sofa. I want to be the one you ask to open jars, the one whose hoodies you steal. I want to be the person who holds you when you cry and makes you laugh when you need it. I want to take care of you—not the other way around." His words knocked the wind out of you.

Your mouth opened, but no words came out. You weren't one to be left speechless, but somehow Mason had managed it.

"I... do you like me?" You said, your voice barely above a whisper.

Mason bit his lip, almost nervously. "Was that not obvious?"

"But… why would you push me away? Wait--" Your eyes widened. "Did you do this because you were my patient?"

Mason let out a long sigh, his breath visible in the chilly Manchester air. "I'm tired, Y/n." He said, his voice low and pained. "You've seen me at my worst since the day we met. And I hate that. I hate that you've only ever seen this version of me: the injured, broken version."

"Mase--"

"No!" He interrupted, his voice cracking. "I feel like everything's going wrong. I feel like I’m failing as a footballer, as a person. And I hate that all you've seen is that failure."

You reached for him, your hands trembling as they rested on his arms. "Mason, listen to me." You said firmly. "The last thing I see you as is a failure." He turned his face away, but you cupped his face, gently forcing him to meet your gaze. "You’re the strongest, most hardworking person I know. Maybe you’ve had more setbacks than most, but you work three times harder than anyone else. I’m your physician, yes, but I’m also your friend. And I just want to help you. I want to be there for you, no matter what."

For a moment, he looked at you like you had hung the moon and stars. His hand rose hesitantly, cupping your cheek as if he were afraid you might disappear.

Slowly, his face leaned closer to yours, his lips brushing yours gently. When you didn’t pull away, your lips parted, and he kissed you.

The kiss was soft, hesitant at first, then deeper, carrying the weight of everything unsaid until now. For that moment, there was no cold air, no frustration, no confusion, just the warmth of his lips against yours.

When you finally broke apart, your breaths mingled in the frosty air. His forehead rested lightly against yours, his eyes searching yours as if trying to read you.

"I'm sorry." Mason whispered.

"For what?" You asked softly.

"For pushing you away. For being such a mess." He admitted, his eyes dropping to the ground. "You deserve someone who's got it all together, not someone who's barely holding on."

You shook your head. "Mason, no one has it all together. We're all just doing our best. And you're not a mess, you're human. You're allowed to feel frustrated, to have bad days. But you don't have to go through it alone."

"You make me want to be better." He said quietly.

"And you make me want to fight harder." You replied with a shy smile.

He pulled you into a tight embrace and you burried your face in his neck. The weight of his struggles seemed to melt away. The two of you stood there for a while, wrapped in each other's arms. When you pulled apart, he looked down at you and smiled.

You gave him a gentle smile, tucking your hands into your pockets, suddenly feeling shy. "So… go home, rest, and we'll talk... tomorrow? Properly this time."

"Properly." He repeated with a nod.

For a moment, neither of you moved. The night air was cold, but the warmth of the moment made it easy to ignore. Finally, you took a small step back as you said goodbye, offering him one last glance before turning to leave.

"Y/n." His voice stopped you in your tracks.

You turned. "Yes?"

He hesitated. "Do you… do you want to have dinner? Like... today!"

A smile spread across your face. "I'd love that."

#mason mount #mason mount fluff #mason mount x reader #mason mount imagines #mason mount imagine #footballer x y/n #footballer x reader #footballer imagine #football imagine #mm7

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cognitiveoverload · 3 days ago

Text

Nobody got you the way I do (Aaron Hotchner x reader)

summary: One of your employees turns out to be a serial killer, and the BAU suspects that he might want to hurt you too, so they want to make sure you're safe. Hotch takes it a little too seriously, and there's a reason for that.

note: I'm not so sure about this one, I don't know why. But this is the robotics expert!CEO!reader story I mentioned in the poll.

tags: afab!reader, overprotective!Hotch, brat tamer!Hotch?

wc: 5.4k

“I told you not to bother me today.”

Your assistant, Lizzie, is the only one at this company who spends the entire day in high heels, which is why the familiar clicking sound lets you know it’s her who entered your private lab. Since you know who it is, you don’t even look up from the prosthetic arm you have lying on the table in front of you, connected to your laptop to spend the day fixing the damn thing. A deadline is coming up, and you took charge of this pet project of yours, this is why you are dead serious when you ask your employees to respect your request to leave you alone for now.

She lets out a hesitant hum as she steps closer to you, leaning down so you can hear her clearly even when she speaks quietly. “Two FBI agents are here to see you. They said it was important,” she tells you.

Letting out an annoyed sigh, you look up to find two men standing there in the room. One of them is young, maybe a few years younger than you, and his eyes are focused on the prototype you’re working on. The other? Now, that’s an interesting situation. The other agent in question is someone you have met before, at a party over half a year ago, when he helped you talk to a suicidal acquaintance who decided to pick that night to jump off the roof of the building. Unlike his colleague’s, his eyes are fixed on you, making you feel like you’re currently being studied under a microscope.

“Gentlemen, what can I do for you?” you ask casually, folding your hands on the table.

“I’m Supervisory Special Agent Hotchner, this is Dr. Reid,” the older man begins, pretending not to know you. Well, if that’s how he wants to play, you’re happy to join the game. “Your company showed up as a link between the victims in a series of murders.” He puts a folder in front of you, waiting until you open it to take a look at the paper inside. “Is there anything they have in common besides being your ex-employees?”

You go through the list of names, and it’s instantly obvious what that thing is. “They were all fired,” you reply as you close the folder and push it back towards them.

Sadly, Hotch knows there’s more to the story, and he’s not afraid to pry for more information. “And? I know there’s something you’re not telling us. Why were they fired?”

“Corporate espionage.” While you don’t want to go into the details and think about these cases again, they both seem interested in hearing what it’s all about, so you let out a sigh and continue. “They were all caught selling confidential information to our competitors or anyone who was willing to pay enough. Classic case, nothing unusual.”

Reid bites his lips as he quickly thinks about something. “What’s the process if you have a case like this? What do you do?” he wonders.

“I usually let my Chief Security Officer take care of it. His name is Jonathan Hayes, he’s been with us since the beginning, so he knows everything about the company. He sits down with the employee in question with HR present, hands over the paperwork, and beside that, he consults the legal department to take care of the rest,” you explain.

“We didn’t find court documents,” Hotch points out.

With a small smirk, you shrug. “I don’t need scandals. We keep things quiet.”

The two men look at each other, then, as if there was a silent agreement between them, they excuse themselves and ask for a moment while they discuss something outside. With a shrug, you roll the swivel chair to the side to check something on the laptop, but moments after you begin to tweak the set of codes on the screen, your fingers freeze above the keyboard and your gaze shifts to the glass wall to take a look at them. Whatever they’re talking about, it surely involves you, because every now and then they turn your way. Perfect. They hopefully don’t think you used Hayes as your personal assassin or something.

A few minutes later they finally return, and it’s Reid who speaks up. “Can we talk to Hayes? We have some questions, hopefully he can help us out.”

“He’s on unpaid leave due to some family issue,” you tell them.

“Since when?” he asks with a frown.

You blow out the air you didn’t even notice you’ve been holding, and lean back in your chair as you think. “He left about a month ago. Why?”

Before Reid can speak up, Hotch takes a deep breath and steps closer to the desk. “Has he tried to contact you since then?” he asks, his voice laced with worry that you’re not sure his colleague can detect. But you notice, you’re painfully aware of it.

“He called a few times, but usually when I was busy doing something else.”

“So you didn’t talk to him?”

“Not really.”

“When was the last time he called you?”

That one you don’t have to think about. “Three days ago. He called me more and more frequently in the week before that, and since he didn’t stop even after I sent him a text to find my assistant, I decided to block his number until he returns,” you explain.

Reid turns to his boss when he hears this. “The timeline checks out, and his number being blocked might be what triggered the changes in his method and the messages,” he says quickly.

There’s a nod of agreement before Hotch turns back to you. “You need to come with us now.”

“What did I do?”

“Nothing wrong, don’t worry. But Hayes will soon be looking for you, and we’d rather have you somewhere safe until we find him,” he tells you, earning a doubtful look from you.

Because you have a feeling Hayes stepped up to be their prime suspect, although it simply doesn’t make sense to you. If you don’t count this little phone call issue, your relationship is quite good, and he’s always so nice, so friendly. “He would never hurt anyone,” you tell them, deciding that ignoring them might be the best approach. “If there’s nothing else, I’d like to ask you to leave now. I have a lot to do.”

“Listen to me,” you hear Hotch’s hushed voice once he leans over the table, “you’re not safe until we catch him, so put the attitude aside and come with us.”

With a huff, you look back at the screen and begin to type like they weren’t even there. But despite your best effort, his brown eyes are burning a hole into your skull, and you can feel the annoyance that fills him. “I’m not going anywhere,” you say without looking at him.

He takes a deep breath and closes his eyes. “Stop being a brat,” he tells you angrily.

“Did you just call me a brat?”

“Hotch?” Reid asks in the background, but he raises a hand to stop him. That doesn’t work, though, because the younger agent realized that he needs to intervene before things get out of hand. “We found messages at the crime scenes, and now that we know the real reason why those employees had been let go, it’s clear Hayes did this to protect you,” he explains.

This gets your attention and you finally look up from the screen to meet his eyes. “To protect me? How does killing them protect me?”

“He’s loyal to you, and he would go to great lengths to make sure you and your company are safe. To him, you’re like a family member he needs to protect,” he says.

Gulping, you pinch the bridge of your nose. “But he’s such a normal guy. Tough, sure, but murdering people?” you note with a desperate laugh. It’s insane, why can’t this madness happen to someone else?

“They often seem harmless,” he offers with a sympathetic smile. “Look, we need a list of the employees who were fired for corporate espionage or other major issues Hayes dealt with in the past.”

“Sure, I’ll ask my assistant to send you the list,” you assure them without hesitation.

But Hotch doesn’t seem satisfied with the answer, because he moves around the desk to close your laptop, then helps you up from the chair. “You can make that call from the car. Let’s go,” he says as he lets his hand move to your elbow to lead you toward the door.

“Wait, I can’t go, I have a deadline, and an interview, and—”

“Now,” he says sternly, leaving no room for an argument.

For a moment there’s a staring contest between you two, but then out of the corner of your eye you notice Reid’s surprised expression. Maybe this isn’t the time for such an argument, so you put up your hands in defeat. “Okay, okay, just let me get my bag and laptop from my office,” you say as you yank your arm away and take the lead toward the elevator.

On the way out of the building, Reid starts a conversation with you about your work, but it’s hard to focus with Hotch’s hand on the small of your back as he leads you. He doesn’t look at you, and deep down you’re grateful for that. When you get into the car, you sit in the middle of the back seat so it’s easier to keep the chat with the younger agent going, because you’re happy to talk about your little projects with someone who truly appreciates the science behind your innovations.

He’s intelligent, that one’s clear, and the more you learn about him, the more you feel like in another life you could be friends, and you would probably ask him to work for you too. While the conversation flows freely, you don’t miss the way Hotch looks at you through the rearview mirror every once in a while, so when there’s a little break in the discussion, you take the chance to change the topic a little.

“Is he always this grumpy?” you ask Reid with a playful smile.

Before he can respond, Hotch rolls his eyes. “I’m not grumpy,” he states.

“Then serious.”

He exhales slowly, making it clear he has to force himself to stay calm. “I’m chasing serial killers, more people would die if I took my job too lightly,” he explains.

“So would a smile kill you?” you wonder, deliberately pushing his buttons.

“I think you should—” Reid begins his warning, but the other man is quick to interrupt him.

“No.”

You grab the back of his seat and lean forward to be closer. “Then why don’t you smile?” Hotch groans as he shakes his head, and you take the hint. So, once again, you change the topic as you lean back against the seat. “You know what? I’ll make a few calls and hire a security company to keep an eye on me in my own house, so I don’t need your protection. Also, you said Hayes—if he really is the killer, that is—was looking for employees we let go for certain reasons. As far as I know, I’m still the head of this company.”

Reid turns in his seat as he begins to talk. “Yes, but Hayes is getting impatient, angry, and based on the timeline you told us, it’s related to you ignoring his calls. He will get mad at you and try to punish you for that.”

“I highly doubt it.”

“Why?” Hotch asks.

“Does it really matter?”

“I’m going to ask this one last time—why?”

Your silence gives Reid an idea. “Were you in a romantic relationship with him?”

“God, no, no, it’s just,” you begin, stopping for a moment to think. “He has a family, he’s always so nice to everyone, why would he do that? It can’t be to protect me.”

“His way of thinking isn’t exactly rational anymore,” the younger man begins, flashing an understanding smile at you. “As for the security company, it would be best if you stayed close to us.”

With a sigh, you decide to drop it for now. In fact, you want to let go of the conversation altogether. So, instead of putting up another fight, you unlock your phone and dive into your emails, ignoring the men’s existence for the rest of the ride.

••••••••••

Once on their floor, Reid leads you to an empty office, saying you can use that for the time being. It’s way darker than the office or the lab that you’re used to, but you don’t have the luxury to be picky, there is a lot to do before you can call it a day. The interview was transformed into an online one, the journalist promised to call you a little later, the board meeting that was scheduled for the afternoon was postponed to the day after tomorrow, and you gave yourself a new deadline as the prototype wasn’t here with you.

Yet, despite the long to-do list, you don’t interrupt Reid when he continues your previous conversation about your work, and soon you’re joined by Garcia, who charms you in a matter of seconds. Prentiss and Morgan arrive as well, shortly introducing themselves before leaving to get back to work.

But then the little gathering is coming to a halt, because Hotch shows up just to tell you that you can’t stay here. Instead, he wants you to use his office, saying he’d rather have you somewhere he can keep an eye on you. Garcia and Reid both watch you with visible confusion, which tells you it must be quite unusual, even for them. But you don’t feel like arguing, so you follow the unit chief down the hallway.

As you’re sitting on the couch, you can’t help but glance over at him every now and then, watching as he tries to catch up with the paperwork while they wait. For what, though, is a mystery, no one tells you anything regarding the case. Being left in the dark is definitely not what you’re used to.

Two hours later he returns to the office, but instead of coming in, he simply leans against the doorframe, brown eyes watching you with surprising softness. “How about getting some coffee?” he asks.

Now that’s something you can’t say no to. “You have coffee?”

A short, dry laugh follows your question. “We do, it’s terrible, which is why I was thinking about going to a coffee shop nearby. Want to come with me?”

“I thought I had to stay here to be safe,” you point out.

“It’s close and I have a gun,” he says with a barely visible smile. “So?”

“That would be great.”

He signals you to follow him, and, as if you were a trained puppy, you do exactly as he wants. While you pass the bullpen, you can’t help but notice the eyes of the members of his team, and you even hear the whispers behind your back. Do they suspect something? Did they notice that maybe you have met before this morning? Or what if Hotch told them himself? But no, if he did, he wouldn’t have acted like he didn’t know you.

In the car, there’s a comfortable silence settling between you, and it’s hard not to think about the night you met him. The party was boring, the usual shallow event where people could network and show off, but when a woman you knew came over to you to say a mutual acquaintance was on the roof, planning to jump down after receiving a phone call, things took an interesting turn.

Hotch was in the group you were both a part of in a conversation, and when he heard what happened, he offered to join you. It took a good half hour, but eventually he managed to convince the man to change his mind, and that’s when he told you about who he was. The rest of the night passed with a pleasant chat, learning a lot more about each other, and at the end he asked for your number, promising to call you soon.

Well, he never did.

But today, you’re willing to put that aside if he wants to act like you didn’t know each other. Instead of stirring drama, you inhale deeply and look out the window. “You know, it’s nice,” you note, breaking the silence.

“What’s nice?”

“Not being treated like I was some weirdo.”

For a moment, he turns his head to look at you. “That’s how people see you?” You let out a hum of confirmation. “Well, having Reid on the team helped us gain some experience in dealing with geniuses, I guess.”

“Look at that! A smile! You should smile more often,” you note teasingly, even biting on your lip before commenting on how much more handsome it makes him.

He shakes his head without glancing over at you. “You’re not letting that smile thing go, are you?” he asks.

“Hmm… No, I don’t think so.” Silence falls between you, because there’s something you want to ask, something you’re not sure you should bring up. But then you take a deep breath and speak up again. “Can I ask you something?”

“Go ahead.”

“You’re nice to me,” you say, then turn to look at him. “Why?”

Hotch takes a deep breath before looking at you, and you can see a slightly confused expression on his face. “As far as I know, it’s not a crime to be nice.”

“That’s true, still.” His eyes turn back to the road ahead, and you can tell that this was all, he doesn’t want to talk more about this. “So, I guess he wasn’t at home,” you then say, changing the topic. You know Morgan and Prentiss went to Hayes’ home, but neither of them told you about the result.

“No, he wasn’t. But we will find him,” he assures you.

“Are you sure I’m in danger?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

He remains silent for a little too long, probably wondering how much he can tell you. “His wife left him about eight months ago and took their daughter with her. That could be a stressor. He focused on his job, where he once again found traitors, then he lost control.”

“That doesn’t explain why he would turn on me.”

“You’ve been ignoring him. You blocked his number. He’s getting angry, he kills more frequently. We found another body today, but this time it wasn’t a past or current employee. He will reach the point when he starts to blame you for his own actions.”

You look out the window on the side, watching the people on the street. “I don’t believe it,” you note, although this sentence is meant more to you than him.

“I thought you were smarter than this.” Your attention snaps back to him when he reaches out to touch your hand. “Take it seriously. Please.”

“Okay.” You look down at his hand, having a hard time deciding how the way his thumb massages your skin makes you feel. It certainly makes you think, and you don’t shy away from bringing it up. “We should probably talk about the elephant in the room,” you tell him.

But Hotch suddenly pulls his hand away and parks the car in front of a coffee shop. Even though he gets out, you stay behind, staring ahead as you think about this. Maybe you should tell them you’ll take care of your own protection, you won’t need their help any longer. It would be easier for everyone.

Eventually, you catch up, but after you both place your orders, there’s an argument about who’s gonna pay, although he shuts you down with a single look. So, you give up the fight and decide to remain silent until you arrange your trip to your holiday house in Aspen.

Then you take a seat in a booth, and he starts talking unexpectedly. “I thought we were having a fresh start, like we didn’t know each other at all,” he says, continuing the conversation that ended so abruptly in the car.

“You started that this morning when you introduced yourself like I was a complete stranger, I just played along,” you respond, although you’re having a hard time figuring him out.

He lets out a sigh, his fingers drumming on the side of the cup as he watches you. “I didn’t know where we stood after that night.”

“You disappeared, Hotch. You asked for my number and never called. I thought I misunderstood what happened, so I decided to move on, but don’t think it didn’t hurt.”

“I wanted to call you, but then I had one case after another and realized I don’t have the time to maintain a relationship you would deserve.”

You can’t help but snort. “You could have told me that instead of ignoring me completely.”

“I’m sorry,” he says, and you can tell he’s being honest now.

It doesn’t make sense to you. He’s been sending you mixed signals since you met again in the morning, and deep down you want to clarify the situation before leaving. “Tell me this,” you begin as you lean closer over the table. “If you wanted to act like we didn’t know each other, why did you become so overprotective? Because that’s what you’ve been all day long; forcing me to come with you, keeping me in your office, and taking me out to get coffee.”

Hotch stops to think. “I can’t stand the thought of you getting hurt. I know it’s probably hard to believe, but that’s the truth. I like you, and every time I read an article about you, or watch one of your interviews, I think about what things could be like.”

“I wish you hadn’t disappeared on me back then.”

“We can fix that now,” he says softly as he reaches out to take your hand.

But you don’t like the idea of him touching you, so you pull your hand away as you look elsewhere. “I’m not sure if I want it now. Maybe it’s already too late.” You can hear him let out a long sigh, which makes you turn back to him. “Look, when we get back, I’ll call a friend of mine to send someone who will escort me to my holiday house in Colorado. I’ll take my jet, it will be safe.”

“No.”

“I wasn’t asking for your permission, Hotch,” you point out.

“I know, but you can’t leave. We don’t know when we’ll need you to help us with something. So, no, you’re not leaving. In fact, you’ll stay in my apartment, because I can’t leave you in the office.”

“Do I get a say in this?”

He raises his eyebrows as he looks at you, as if you’ve just made a stupid joke. “No.”

••••••••••

You decided to be a good girl and didn’t put up a fight when he told you it was time to leave the office at the end of the day. You didn’t argue when he ordered food for dinner. You weren’t hostile when he started a conversation. You played his game, just like he expected you to, as if you understood why he was so keen on keeping you close.

You even offered him a chance to lure Hayes to the party your company was holding for the employees the next day. When he agreed to do it on the condition of him and his team attending too, you said good night, and went to sleep. But that didn’t last long, the moment you heard his bedroom door close, you sneaked out and returned to your office.

But the next day he found you. You were sitting behind your desk, signing a couple of documents your assistant left behind for you, when you heard footsteps getting closer.

“What the hell were you thinking?!” he yelled, walking around your desk to stand right in front of you.

Morgan raised his hands to calm him down. “Hotch,” he warned his boss, but it felt like he didn’t say a word.

Because he completely ignored the other man, instead he focused on you, his eyes burning a hole into you. “You disappear in the middle of the night without a word? No one knew where you went, he could have found you!”

“Hotch, calm down, she’s safe.”

“Morgan, stay out of this, please.”

“Am I arrested?” you ask, keeping your voice calm and quiet.

He looks back at you. “No, but—”

“Then I can go wherever I want,” you tell him. “I don’t need your permission. Hell, you don’t even have proof that he’s after me.”

“But he could be, which is more than enough.”

“Unless you want to arrest me, please, leave the building. If you don’t, I’ll ask security to escort you out,” you inform him, already reaching for your phone to make the call if needed.

Hotch’s eyes soften, and you can see his desperation. “Don’t do this,” he asks you.

Silence follows his words, but you don’t want to give him the satisfaction of winning this one. So, rolling your eyes, you close your laptop and stand up, already moving past him to reach the hallway. If they want to stay, then fine, let them stay, but you’ll sure as hell not stick around. He doesn’t try to stop you, neither does Morgan, although you can feel both men watching as you disappear on the hallway.

You barely reach the first corner, though, when you find yourself face to face with Hayes, the very man they’ve been trying to protect you from. Fuck. But maybe you’re lucky, maybe he’s only here to pick something up from his office, maybe it’s a meeting, maybe it’s anything other than the need to hurt you. Flashing a friendly smile at him, you say, “John, I thought you were on leave.”

“There’s something I have to take care of,” he says, and you feel a wave of relief wash over you.

“Okay. I’ll spend most of the day in my lab, so if you need anything, you kn—” You don’t finish the sentence, because he suddenly pulls out a gun and points it at you. “John, put that away,” you try weakly.

Hayes closes the distance between you to grab your arm and yank you towards the stairs. “Come with me.”

“There are innocent people here, don’t do something you would regret later.”

“This has to be done,” he says, and you can hear the determination in his voice, mixed with a hint of insanity.

Before you could get far, though, you’re both stopped by a familiar voice when Hotch's angry voice cuts through the air. “Hayes, let her go,” he instructs.

The man steps behind you and pushes the barrel of the gun at your head. “No! Take one step closer and I’ll shoot her.”

“You only wanted to protect her and the company, didn’t you? Killing her would ruin your plan,” Morgan tries to reason, although you’re not quite sure he’s in the right state of mind to process that properly.

“She doesn’t appreciate what I do for her.”

“I’m sure she does.”

“No! She didn’t say thank you after I punished those people, she didn’t even answer my calls and messages.”

You gulp, feeling like this whole mess is your fault, that maybe if you talked to him, you would’ve found out what he did sooner. “John, please,” you beg him.

“Shut up!”

Before anyone else could speak up, you catch movement out of the corner of your eye when the assistant of one of the deputy CEO’s steps out of the main meeting room, and she cries loudly when she notices the weapons. “What’s—Oh my god!” she says, her voice laced with panic.

This averts Hayes’s attention, and he lets go of you just enough to give Morgan the chance to shoot him. You look down at the body on the floor, blood pooling around him as the agent comes closer to check his pulse. “He’s dead,” he announces, turning to his boss before looking back at you.

You’re crying, you can’t stop yourself, and you’re only pulled out of your spiraling thoughts by Hotch’s worried voice as he moves closer and extends his arms. “Come here.” You don’t even think about it, you only follow your instincts and let him pull you into a tight hug. “He can’t hurt you anymore, you’re safe,” he whispers to you, then turns to his colleague. “Morgan, take care of this, I’ll take her back to her office.”

“Okay, you got it,” comes the answer.

“I’m fine, you don’t need to come with me,” you note as you step away from him and wipe the tears away. “Would you like me to evacuate the building?”

“No, only close this floor.”

“Sure.”

Hotch grabs your shoulders and turns you back to face him. “Look at me.” When you do, he goes on, his voice soft and worried. “Don’t do this.”

“I’m not doing anything,” you mumble.

“You’re pushing me away, but you shouldn’t be alone now.”

You shrug. “Then Morgan could stay by my side until you are ready to let me go.”

“Hey, I think it would be better if you stayed with Hotch,” the agent says.

“What did I do to you? Did I hurt you?” you ask him, sounding as serious as you manage in this situation.

Morgan groans as he rolls his eyes at you. “Come on.”

“You’re childish, and stubborn, and getting on my nerves now,” Hotch states impatiently. “Let’s go, I need to ask you a few questions.”

“About what?”

“About Hayes holding you at gunpoint.”

“But you saw what happened.”

“Not the whole thing.”

Since there is nothing you can do considering you’re expected to work together with them, you follow him to your office, where you lean against the desk with your arms defensively folded over your chest. “You’re overreacting,” you inform him.

Hotch scoffs, giving you a disapproving look. “You left my house and he almost murdered you. Since when does being worried about you count as overreacting?”

“And why are you worried? Who am I to you exactly?” you ask in an attempt to challenge him.

He watches you for a short while, and you have absolutely no idea what’s going on inside his head. But then, out of nowhere, he places a hand on your neck and pulls you into a kiss. A soft one that’s full of emotions, something he’s been planning to do for a while now. “It’s up to you,” he says quietly, staying close to you.

“That’s emotional blackmail,” you respond, your voice barely above a whisper, as if you were telling this to yourself.

He lets out a short laugh, the big smile remaining in place. “Not quite.”

“Hotch, please, this isn’t funny.”

“I’m not laughing at you, I promise,” he says as he shakes his head. “Have dinner with me. Tonight, before I’m dragged away for work.”

“I can’t.”

You don’t miss the disappointed look on his face as he steps back. “Of course you can’t,” he notes bitterly.

Tilting your head to the side, you reach out for his hand. “Hey, the gala, remember? That’s tonight.” Finally, he remembers. “How about a deal? You join me as my plus one, and we can talk.”

“You’ll ignore me.”

“I won’t.”

“And if you do?”

A playful smile appears on your lips. “You don’t trust me?”

“I just want to make sure you keep your word,” he points out while he laces your fingers.

“Ouch. I’ll behave.”

He leans down to place a kiss on your forehead, then flashes a smile at you. “That’s all I ask of you.”

Before he could kiss you again, Morgan knocks on the door and watches the pair of you with a teasing grin on his face, but seeing the look his boss sends his way, he decides to leave this for now. Instead, he gives him an update. Despite the conversation happening in your presence, you can’t focus on their words. You’re busy studying Hotch’s face, getting lost in those eyes that caught your attention months ago. Maybe this time he’ll stick around and stop ignoring you.

Maybe this time it can work out.

#criminal minds #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x you

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witchygagirlwrites · 2 days ago

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That's my Girl

Jay Halstead x Reader

You've been with Jay since your daughter was a baby and he loves her like she was his own. When your ex winds up back in Chicago and comes looking to play dad Jay isn't backing down.

“Daddy” you heard Vivian giggle as Jay scooped her up, tickling under her arms. “How was your day, baby girl?” She went into telling him about preschool, stumbling over a few words here and there but he listened like it was the most important thing in the world.

Times like this you swore you fell in love with Jay all over again. You weren't sure how he'd handle the fact of you being a single mom the day he asked you out, especially considering at that time she'd barely hit seven months.

He handled it in stride, making some dates to include her and paying your sister to babysit (even though she'd do it for free) so some dates would be just the two of you.

It took you months to trust him enough to open your heart, your ex Paul Victors cheated on you midway through your pregnancy. You had actually come in from the gender scan to find him in bed with another woman, the bed you'd bought.

Everyone at med was there for you, supporting you and keeping him from coming anywhere around you. When Paul had come in one day after you'd come back from maternity leave and wouldn't leave that was how you met Jay, Will called him.

_________________

Jay was everything your Paul wasn't. He was the type of man that could make you feel like everything was going to work out by giving you one of those smiles you adored. He always tried to show kindness where he could, to protect those who needed it. When his anger did flare it up it was never without reason and never pointed at you.

He was patient in the fact that you'd been hurt and that Vivian came first in your life. The first time you slept with him you were fairly certain he'd been more nervous than you.

The way he touched you, kissed you, whispered how beautiful you were…you knew then it wouldn't be long before Jay would own your heart completely.

_________________

The day Jay proposed to you he'd also made a promise to always be there for Vivian. Your wedding was in a few months and Jay was in the process of officially adopting her. Your stomach was in knots over the fact that you had to legally send a notice to Paul's last known address because he had signed the birth certificate.

Jay turned to look at you with a smile, Vivian dangling from his neck “What ya say mommy? Can we get pizza?” You nodded “Of course. If that's what little miss wants” he grinned and turned to sit her on her feet “Ok sweetheart. Go get your jacket” she grinned up at him “Ok daddy” and ran towards her room.

You watched her go then felt him pull you into his arms “You're overthinking Mrs Halstead” you cut your eyes up at him, his blue eyes holding you in place “I just don't want him messing up my life again. I'm happy” a smile slipped onto his face “You're engaged to a detective baby. You have all of the twenty first backing you. He won't come near you or her. The adoption will go through and you both will be Halsteads by the end of the year”

You shook your head “I love you Jay” he pulled you into a kiss, speaking against your lips “I love you too”

You were walking out to your car, talking to Will. He was planning to come over for him and Jay to watch the game that weekend and was asking what food he could bring “Not for you and Jay, for my niece”

You laughed lightly “She has Jay's appetite” both of his eyebrows shot up “God help us” you were almost to your car but stopped in your tracks when you spotted the orange carnation on the windshield.

Will didn't notice the flower but knew something was wrong. “Hey, what is it?” He followed your line of sight and saw the flower “Who's that from?” He asked and you barely got out “Paul”

_____________

When Jay rolled up Hailey barely got the car to a stop before he was out. “Did he come near you? I sent Kev and Kim to pick her up. I'll fucking kill him”

He pulled you into his arms after visibly checking you for injuries. “I'm ok Jay just a little freaked out” he nodded “It's ok. I'll take care of it. I'll get Voight to put a patrol on her school, we'll alert hospital security and we'll keep an eye out for him”

“He's not gonna get near her or you” Hailey assured you with a smile. You nodded, laying your head over on Jay's chest.

You were young when you got pregnant with Vivian and had done a lot of stupid shit. You'd been honest with Jay, of course but what if it was brought up in court?

What if your daughter's life was ruined because of decisions you'd made?

_______________

A few days later you got a call from Jay to meet him and Vivian's school. The patrol car had to stop Paul from entering. He'd ran before Jay got there however.

You stood in the middle of the floor intelligence used at the twenty first precinct holding Vivian in your arms. You knew you were safe here, she was safe but the thought of him trying to take her still had you shaken.

Voight walked up behind you and gently touched your back “Sweetheart, why don't you and her take my office?” You cut your eyes at Jay who nodded so you smiled “Thank you” and walked towards the office, closing the door behind yourself to sit on the leather couch.

____________

“We're finding this asshole right?” Adam asked as soon as the office door was closed and Jay nodded “Oh yeah but whoever finds him first doesn't lay a finger on him. You don't scare my fiance and threaten to take my daughter”

Voight nodded “Kim, stay here with her and Vivian. I've got to talk to a few people. If I'm needed to clean anything up, call me Halstead”

________________

“Paul Victors..drunk and disorderly…resisting arrest..minor possession charges…big jump to attempted kidnapping” Adam spoke as he walked up behind him in the bar they'd tracked him to.

“That's my daughter” he argued and Kevin's hand came to rest of his neck “Let's walk outside my man”

The two of them walked him out between them. Jay and Hailey stood against the wall. The moment he saw Jay he tried to run but Kevin pushed him towards Jay who grabbed him by the collar and slammed him back against the wall.

“You scared the woman I love, you threatened my daughter” Hailey kept an eye on the people around to ensure no one was paying too much attention while Kevin and Adam kept an eye on the bar.

“She's my dau..” Paul didn't get anything else out before Jay's fist hit his stomach “MY daughter” Paul coughed hard “You son of a bitch”

“Did you spit on my partner?” Hailey asked and Jay nodded, wiping his face like Paul had “He did”

Adam tsk tsked “That's assault Paul” and grabbed his cuffs.

Paul was taken to holding while the unit came back up to find you, Kim and Vivian playing a game in Voight's office.

“Hey baby” Jay greeted, pressing a kiss to your lips then kissed Vivian's forehead “Hey baby girl”

You raised an eyebrow at him and he winked at you “C'mon. We gotta meet Voight” “What about her?” You asked, looking at Vivian.

“We got her” Kim assured you so you let Jay pull you to your feet. “Where are we going?” You asked him on the stairs. He whispered “Voight pulled a Voight baby. That's all you need to know”

Voight called in a few favors he was owed. You and Jay ended up meeting with a judge in his chambers. “Jay if you sign here Vivian will officially be your daughter”

You felt his left hand slip around your waist as his right picked up the pen “I love you” he kissed the top of your head then leaned down and signed the paper.

Voight stood to the side, watching. “Congrats Jay” Jay smiled “Thanks Hank”

Hank looked at you “Now you just gotta get the Halstead last name” “What about Paul?” You asked and Jay shrugged “Platt took care of that. He's leaving Chicago. Only way to not face charges”

“I'm free?” You asked and Jay pulled you into his arms “We're free. Let's go get our daughter”

#jay halstead x reader #jay halstead x you #jay halstead fanfiction #chicago pd fanfiction #chicago pd fic #chicago pd fanfic

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freezebobs · 2 days ago

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DBFZ Yamcha and Ten cookies...done!!!

Soo I've been on a mission to recreate the Yamcha and Ten cookies from dragon ball fighterz because they're adorable...and they're finally real!! :'D process and info below! (kind of long lol)

I saw someone share these screencaps from the game a while ago and as someone who never played DBFZ I was so charmed at how cute these things are. I wondered if anyone had ever made cookie cutters for them, did a quick search and didn't really find anything, so just kind of moved on.

A few months later I remembered them again and was like, man, I really would love to see these brought to life lol. And I searched again and actually found someone who made them!!... But they weren't selling them anymore. 😭💔

^Reddit post from user ShadowLord898.

So in the next few days I went into the DBFZ game files, figured out how to navigate them and locate/open the proprietary file types (took...a lot of googling), and eventually found the cookie textures!!! Which I then painstakingly traced over to create vectors.

I thought once I had the vectors, it would be easy to drop them into a 3D program and extrude them to make the cookie cutters. BOY WAS I WRONG!!! It's probably just my inexperience working with vectors in 3D programs, but I tried Blender, Fusion 360, and Tinkercad and had problems in each one before finally figuring out the right approach. (I really almost gave up 🤧 but I hadn't realized that your geometry/topology don't need to be perfect when 3D modeling for print as opposed to, like, something you plan to create a texture for.)

Tinkercad and its extremely user friendly interface, plus SVG import functionality, saved me.

Oh then I realized I forgot to reverse the design, which you have to do for a cookie cutter because of how they work. I thought I would need to flip all the vectors and re-import them, recreate the models... but thankfully there's a "flip" button in Tinkercad. Fixed.

I sent the files over to my friend @.theprocrastinatingengineer on Instagram, who has a 3D printing service, and he was able to print them out for me!

While I was waiting for them to ship I downloaded Cura ("slicer" program for preparing 3D files for print) just for fun. (I was really eager...)

And here's when I finally got them!!!

Despite choosing all the dimensions carefully, I was still surprised how dainty they were when I actually held them in my hand. I wasn't sure if they would work...

So I made the dough and everything, used some 5mm thick chopsticks as guides to roll out the dough to the thickness I wanted. I put plastic wrap over the dough to prevent the cutters from directly touching the dough due to food safety concerns. Here is my first attempt to use them:

After this my mindset quickly shifted from caring about food safety to "what's a little more plastic in my system?" / "I'm here for a good time, not a long time!!" / "welll the dough gets baked anyway so that kills the germs it should be fiiine" **I Do Not recommend others to be so careless... also important note: I was the only one eating these so I didn't have to worry about others' safety 🥴

^The difference between using the cutters with and without the plastic wrap.

This first rolling out of the dough was actually a little too thick; in my design I hadn't accounted for the way the dough squishes up when you press the cutter into it. There wasn't enough vertical space at all, and the dough kept getting stuck in the cutter. It was a bad time!!! (didn't get a lot of photos of the failures here because my hands were covered in flour)

After lots of broken cookie cutouts, re-flouring the surface/cutters/rolling pin, and re-rolling the dough to be a bit thinner, I managed to get these out. I had to support Ten's head like a newborn when moving the dough onto the cookie sheet because the connection to the body was so delicate 😢

AND HERE THEY ARE...fully baked and ready 🥹

For the most part I was going to leave them undecorated like how they are in the game. But @.lamichicuenta made this really cute drawing of the cookies where Yamcha had chocolate decorations and Ten was a salty cracker, and I really wanted to try decorating some to resemble those!! Here are the photos of both versions of the cookies the next day once I was able to get some natural light for nicer pics.

(I meant to poke some holes in Ten's cookie to look more like a cracker but I forgot about it until they were already baking.)

They tasted fine...yamcha was better thanks to the chocolate. 🤭

If you read all this, thank you for following my cookie cutter journey... 😌🙏💖

Oh yeah and I made the vectors, 3D print files, and specs/info all available in a google drive folder here for anyone to use if they want! https://drive.google.com/drive/folders/1hQ7uq3leYPK64pGgt3LhFw-70IZnkYzh?usp=drive_link

OH and one last thing, i ended up revising the 3D models to hopefully fix the issue of not enough vertical space. ...turns out I hit the maximum for photos and videos in this post, but you can see it on my twitter here! https://twitter.com/freezebobs/status/1875720926840680678

I didn't get to try these revised models, but they are the ones I put in the drive folder. 😊👍

#dragon ball #dbz #dragon ball z #dragon ball fighterz #dbfz #tenshinhan #yamcha #tien shinhan #tien #yamtien #tiencha #food #cookies #3d printing #I spent a long time writing and adding all the pictures and captions so if tumblr fudges up this post i will be very sad #I realized I forgot to mention a couple things like the cookie cutter design tutorial I was following #And the way I actually created the models #When making the vectors #Make the outline its own path. And the inner/embossed details separate from it #Export the outline and the inner details as separate svg files #Import them separately into 3d program so you can extrude them to different heights for cutting/embossing #It doesn't matter if they overlap a bit. Tinkercad doesn't mind and once you join everything you still get a fine STL export for print☺️#As for the tutorial I used. The main takeaways were that I kept the 3d printer nozzle width in mind when choosing dimensions #Friend with the 3d printer said that you don't really need to do that though #Also the “bridges” or the little cross that connects the parts that float/aren't connected to the rest of the design (eg eyes and mouth)#I followed many random tutorials and things throughout this whole process #Can you tell i luv to document... (sincere)

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drdemonprince · 3 days ago

Note

I think think about your piece How to Go Places Alone And Not Feel Like A Freak Looser (or something to that affect) quite often.

While it is uncomfortable, tiring, nerve wracking, to feel like or be the odd one out, I am at least used to the feeling. It takes nerve but (especially as a kid/teen) have always gone to things alone and, once I get over myself, enjoy not caring what anyone thinks about my presence.

As an (ever transsexualizing >:) adult, I am getting back into doing & dressing however I want in public (embarrassing yourself is inevitable, might as well enjoy life!). This is a funner, freer, outlook, but I hoped being more myself would help me find my people.

I’m used to the awful feeling of being an alien freak looser (real or imagined) so I can hype myself up to be in my own world when I’m out. But I wonder if doing this, and choosing events based on interest instead of demographics or friendship, reinforces my felling of disconnect with people. It’s easier to accept, and dress like, I’ll always stick out (be alone) than it is to imagine mimicking those around me.

I went to an explicitly cruisey new years night and instead of studying the crowd intensely trying to fit in, wore my shiny platforms, smiled at people, and danced just for the fun of it. Feeling good about myself and enjoying my experience requires an ‘eh fuck ‘em’ attitude. I can enjoy being in public seeing all my fellow earthlings but it does not feel social. And I realize, my time there felt anything but sexy. I wasn’t about to walz into the darkroom (let’s walk before we run), but I hate that I couldn’t feel comfortable in this place I’ve always wanted to be.

I return to the same questions everywhere I go: I can exist, but how am I supposed to learn the codes of a space when I can’t study (ruminate) from afar?

How could I ever be social when (even joyous and embodied) I can’t get out of my own head?

How do you know when it’s time to listen to your gut and when to play into a social game?

I understand what you mean about the duality between doing your own thing in your own little alien bubble and actively placing effort into connecting with the people around you (which often feels like it requires masking).

But, from my perspective, both of those are strategies for dealing with social overwhelm -- one is more dissociative, and the other's more compensatory. Both of them reflect a discomfort with the people in the space. And they're both perfectly reasonable ways to deal with such feelings! But the way to move forward, at least in my experience, is to continue attending events until you attain enough familiarity with them that you actually start feeling more comfortable.

You said you didn't feel sexy at this cruisy party, and certainly weren't ready to venture into the dark room. That's fine! You can work your way up in whatever order of activities is least intimidating to most intimidating to you.

The first few times that I go to a club, I need anywhere from a few minutes to an hour to get warmed up enough to really dance on the floor and take up a ton of space and make weird gestures. I spend a lot of time lurking in the corner or reading a book at the bar at first. After I've been there a number of times, I know the deal of the space better, recognize a few people, maybe have developed a rapport with the door guy or a regular, and it gets easier to branch out and feel more at ease in my skin. People intuit this and approach me more often when I'm feeling more comfortable, and my reactions have fewer exit ramps built into them (one of my protective instincts is to throw out a lot of conversation-enders that make people feel rejected, lmaoo good one me).

The same general principles I've described here can apply to any new social challenge, including a bar with a backroom where people are fucking. Show up again. Do your thing. Maybe find a spot to post up and observe, since you mentioned an interest in doing that. Bring a book or some knitting if you want, and wear whatever outfit helps you feel comfortable and good with yourself. The first few times you do all this, people may get strong "I'm Doing My Own Thing Leave Me Alone" vibes from you, as they often do from Autistics, and that's fine. You're still learning and acclimating from being there. After a couple of tries, head into that back room. It's not as exciting as you think it's gonna be. You might get to watch some fucking or you might just see a bunch of guys pacing around who are just as awkward as you feel that you are. But then you'll know what it's like. And then you just keep showing up, and observing and participating in small ways (watching is participation in a sex club!), and you'll get steadily more involved in the space and connected to the people each time that you do.

I've been going to pet patrol nights for a long time and I've only just now gotten to the point where I can chat up random people and get into hookups relatively easily, instead of just standing around mutely hoping someone will approach me. Bringing friends has helped a ton to relax me and make me seem more approachable to others, too, so you could try that!

for anyone wondering here's the full piece

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sleepymothafterhours · 2 days ago

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Rough day made rougher

Inspired by @indiewritesxoxo! (hi this is my side blog!) I love her cyberbully!sukuna series so much and i think everyone should go read all her works right now(that is your homework)

Divider Credits: @cafekitsune

Synopsis: After a rough day at work you just wanna wind down by playing your favorite game with your favorite guy, but hwat happens when he gets a little too mean and drives you over the edge :(

Warnings: mean Kuna, Bully!Sukuna, lmk if theres anything else

Word Count: 1080 Full fic under the cut, check sleepy moths after thoughts at the end for more <3

Thirty more minutes. That's what you kept telling yourself at least. Thirty more minutes and you could get in your car and speed home, get in your pajamas(and away from this cold, wet, and stupid drive thru window). you could make hot chocolate and sit at your desk and play your game to get your mind off it.

Though playing alone is never that much fun, you wonder if Sukuna will log on tonight when he always does. After months of him helping you learn the mechanics, you could finally get through a match without him raging(very much) at you.

Your thirty years minutes of torture ended with a screaming customer, you biting back a few tears and your boss telling you could leave. You grabbed your bag leaving with a quick "Bye!" not saying much else as you walked out to your car. On your phone were a few messages, none really that important until you got to a text from Sukuna asking if you were gonna be on tonight.

The drive home was loud, your playlist from work screaming in your ears but it was nice. And as you finally pulled into your driveway you sat for a moment to collect yourself before going inside and getting ready for sleep. Your cat was in your business like she always was whenever you got home from work, but in the end after a few pats and holding her for a few minutes she let you go free. Comfy in your pajamas you could finally sit down to play, in your haze getting home you had neglected to text him back and when you got on found an invite sitting in your games almost immediately. "Eager much?" You teased when you joined, it was just you, you adjusted his volume so that you could hear him just fine when he spoke, but so he wouldn't blow your eardrums out whenever he inevitably raged at the game. You'd come to enjoy the little ritual you had, so it did sting a little whenever Sukuna responded with a sharp, "Please. Figured you'd need my help again. As usual."

You gave him a witty, "What was that about needing your help?" When you got the first few kills in your first match.

"Yeah yeah your okay. You're welcome." He grumbled into his headset. It was almost enough to get your mind off of what a shit day you had at work, at least now you could do something right. Round after round you seemed to just get worse. Just an off day you could've guessed but Sukuna's constant teasing and yelling was starting to get you. "DUDE. Fucking seriously what is this guy doing." His yelling made you flinch and you realized he was talking about you but hadn't realized it was you. "Jesus fuck dude needs to uninstall." He grumbled. "Sukuna." you snipped as your character got hit. "That was me." You said a little hurt edging into your tone. He gave you a shit excuse and moved on. Once the match ended you couldn't help how you were feeling.

"Sorry you're bad tonight." He said before the next match started.

"Jesus asshole. I know I'm the fuckin' worst. " Thoughts of work flooded your mind, and you just wanted to curl up in bed and forget it. Alt-f4. Without thinking you left the game, you'd get penalized for going afk mid round but you just couldn't handle him tonight. your phone buzzed almost immediately, bombarded by texts from him.

Kuna 💖👹: Dude? Where tf r u?

You: WiFi shut out. Prob wont get back on 2nite, its been shit lately.

Kuna💖👹: Great maybe you'll quit fuckin up my rr.

You put your phone on do not disturb right after that, your computer was on, the mouse hovering right over the delete button. You thought it was stupid to delete a game over some guy. You went to sleep shortly after logging off. You ignored Sukuna for days after that, he hardly reached out really unless it was to see if you'd be on tonight, you gave him a shit excuse every time, "working", "busy", "Don't feel good." the last one wasn't necessarily a lie, you had caught the stomach flu in your two months of silence, and you had been working a lot but not enough for this much silence. After awhile he'd started checking up on you a lot more, asking if you felt better before asking if you were down to game. You kept telling him no until he called you on the way home from work one day.

"Why haven't you been playing?" He growled into the phone. "I've been busy. Don't you have someone better to be playing with?" You said, "Dude I'm driving call me back."

"Promise you're getting on tonight." He said

"Unlike you I have a life outside this game which means homework. I can't play."

"Come on! I'm sorry okay! Whatever you're mad about 'm sorry." He said, his tone changing from that harsh one he normally used to something softer, maybe he had missed you.

"You get 30 minutes." You said before hanging up.

You gave him his 30 and he was almost pleasant, he was definitely containing himself but he was pleasant. You stayed in the call when the thirty was up, your body on autopilot after another long day.

"I am sorry ya know." He said, cutting you off after a moment.

"What?" You asked,

"What I said was mean. I might have missed playing with you. You're the only one who actually matches me." You chuckled.

"Well I had a good teacher." You said softly as you adjusted your headphones. "I should go do homework. I'll be on tomorrow 'kay?"

"Does that mean I'm forgiven." He said

You were quiet for moment, so quiet he almost thought you had left already.

"Buy the new skin bundle for me and I'll consider forgiving you." You said, it was a long shot and you fully expected him to say not before the exact amount of credits you needed was being gifted to you by one "Kingofcurses". "Holy shit. Can I have this new vandal skin to-"

"Okay brat don't fucking push it." He said hanging up on you before you could ask for anything else.

Your phone dinged as you started working.

Kuna💖👹: for the record I had that leftover and didn't want the bundle.

You: Yeah yeah love you too Kuna

Sleepy Moths After thoughts: GAWD I LOVE CYBER BULLY SUKUNA ‼️‼️‼️

ALL MY HOMIES LOVE THE CYBER BULLY SUKUNA SERIES

Go give @indiewritesxoxo some love her series is to die for 💋🫶🏻

uhhhhh Idk what else I just had a lot of fun writing this out

also in my head they played Valorant (cus im a loser) together but I tried to keep it obscure enough so you can all imagine what game they're planning yourselves

night!

-Sleepy Moth

Pretty Please don't repost anywhere else <3

#ryomen sukuna #sukuna #sukuna x reader #jjk sukuna #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #x reader fic #au #gamer au #sukuna x y/n #sukuna ryomen #sukuna ryoumen x you #inspo

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hottubdarling · 3 days ago

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Poolside-inspired Luigi Mangione x reader.

summary — he's cleaning your swimming pool twice a week and you start falling in love w him

this fic is inspired by the poolside short film and lyrics of lana del rey songs!

English is not my first language!

Summer came, you saved money for cute sun dresses and body moisturizers the whole year, and you can't wait to feel that salty scent in your clothes.

Your parents finally uncovered the swimming pool, and you couldn’t be happier. But it was dirtier than the usual, it was actually a mess, spiders and little worms everywhere. You hadn’t enough money to buy a cleaning robot and you didn’t know how to clean a pool properly, so, the only alternative would be hire someone to do that.

Your dad started looking for pool cleaners online and found a guy, who was cleaning pools during the whole summer as a hobby. At first he was kinda reluctant about hiring him, he was fearing he couldn’t be professional enough, so he called him for more information.

Your parents decided to engage him twice a week, he would come to your house tomorrow to assess the pool and start cleaning, you couldn't be more excited to finally go back to swimming!

Next day came. You put your black bikini on under a blue sundress and went to the backyard. You lay down in the grass and played nintendo the whole morning.

Someone rang the doorbell, and your mother's high heels made a huge noise throughout the house.

You heard a male voice in the hallway, talking about schedules, money and stuff like that. "He’s the pool guy" you thought. You stayed playing nintendo in your sun lounger, as you hadn’t heard nothing.

He knocked the backyard glass door, then he came out. You greeted him and smiling, like you weren’t exploding inside. He was really cute to be honest. His smile was more pleasant that any swiming pool, he couldn’t leave, even if he left your pool perfectly clean.

You couldn’t pay attention to your video game anymore, but you couldn’t look at him properly. You was just maladaptive daydreaming, looking at the dirty water.

— So, how is your summer going? - he asked you

— Having fun at home - you answered. I'm gonna start having more fun now when I can use the pool.

— That's cool. I'm cleaning pools for fun, it's a nice way to make new friends, as crazy it seems.

— My neighbor has this robot, its like a little vacuum, it goes into the pool and it does your job.

— He didn’t answered, he was just starred at you for a few seconds and smirked.

After a few minutes, the pool was sparkling. When he was leaving, you heard your mom screaming in the living room. When you came in, he was in the couch, shirtless and sunburned.

— Are you crazy?- she said. Please put on a shirt next time. Im gonna pick up a relief, please take care of him.

She closed the door, and now you two were alone. You wanted to apologize, but it wasn’t your fault, so you stayed silent and started rubbing a cold towel on his back.

—Thanks for being so nice

— No problem

You two stayed in silence. Suddenly, your mother came back and took care of the situation herself.

-See you in three days.

You spent that three days thinking about him, you needed to do something to offset what happened, the fact that he was hot just made the things worse.

You were in the backyard, as always. He looked better than three days ago, he also looked hotter.

— Hey, you don’t need to do this today - you said. Just come in and drink something, I feel really sorry for what happened.

He starred at you for a couple minutes like you were saying the most out of this world thing ever, but it looked like he was liking what he was hearing.

—I am insisting, okay?

You filled your cup with lemonade at least three times while you two were talking, and you didn’t even noticed. Next to him, hours started looking like seconds, he was the smartest and the most beautiful guy you’ve ever met in the entire summer.

— This might be crazy, but, do you wanna go swimming with me?

He started laughing, shaking his head multiple times.

— Im serious, just put sunscreen on before

10 minutes later, you two were in the sparkling water, he wanted to teach you how to float.

He put his hand in the back of your neck while the other hand was grabbing your waist. His brown eyes looked like fire, you wanted to cry.

You two were lying if you said that nothing was happening at this moment, you had a boyfriend, but right now, he looked like a random guy next to the man who was holding you in his big arms.

He placed his hand at your your face and put his fingers inside your mouth. You stopped feeling your body, and just let him do whatever he wanted. You were completely in love.

#luigi mangione #fiction #fic #lana del rey #luigi mangione x reader #luigi mangione fic

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alexanderwales · 1 day ago

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Pitchposting: Retcon

The main idea is this: it's a narrative game where the majority of the gameplay involves placing the pieces of your own past.

This is at least partially lifted from some tabletop games that have "retcon inventory" or "retcon friends" where you declare in the middle of play "oh, actually, it's plausible that I had prepared for this all along, and here's how I did in fact do that", even if the player would have had no way of knowing what was necessary for that. (I have not had a chance to play Blades in the Dark, but I've been told that it features this heavily.)

So the whole game would be this: slowly adding to your own backstory, penning yourself in over time, until there's no room to maneuver anymore, and shortly thereafter, the game ends. The fundamental tension of the game is that you want to keep the character as amorphous as possible, to commit to as few details as possible, but commitment is necessary to actually accomplish things.

In my mind, there's a timeline of the character's life, and that's one of the main thing you're adding to. If you need them to have skill as a pickpocket, you need to account for that somewhere in the timeline, to define how and when they acquired that skill, and whatever time period that was suddenly becomes locked in place. Some level of proficiency in combat can be explained by a rough childhood or a hobby or just bits and pieces picked up here and there, but at a certain level you need to commit to having had multiple years of real world experience, a hefty bar slotted down into the timeline.

The basic appeal to me is that it sort of turns progression mechanics on its head. If you really wanted to, maybe you could slap everything onto the timeline at once, an entire defined life with every memory, skill, and contact determined right at the start. But this would almost certainly sink you unless you knew every twist and turn of the game ahead of time. And in this game "progression" does not come from increasing skills because you got better, it comes from defining the past. (Though there's no reason you can't also have material progression as you acquire more and better things.)

This is also, somewhat, what the process of writing can be like. You nail down things piece by piece, and over time, you're penned in, unable to move except along the tracks you've hopefully laid for yourself, no ability to introduce new things.

I'm not entirely sure what kind of game this mechanic is best suited to. A narrative game would be interesting, but the player is attempting to define as little of the character's past as possible, and ... does this even work for a narrative? The player's version of events is that they're (more or less) trying to keep backstory from happening, that's baked into the concept. It creates an uneasy tension.

A less narrative game, like an immersive sim, might work better. You decide that you spent at least three years as a thief in order to "gain" (i.e. have always had) lock-picking skills, with enough room in the timeline that you can add an extra few years if need be later on.

And of course this works for skills, but it also works for relationships, which I think is fun. In a normal RPG type game, you gain relationship points over time by being a good buddy, but with this framework, you would be revealing backstory that was "there all along". And depending on your needs, you can have this be different backstory, giving certain side characters the same amorphous nature, establishing different relationships with them.

The other option (since I'm a writer, not a game designer) is to try to import this idea into a work of written fiction, which ... might work?

You have your protagonist, and they know that they're a reality-warping amorphous blob, but they have some kind of goal, and they will lock in whatever backstory they need in order to accomplish that goal, while trying to stay cognizant of the fact that whatever backstory they give themselves (and the reader) is going to pen them in further. Maybe there's a nice little magic system to make of it, though I think that would necessitate some kind of reset mechanism.

It might be hubris, but I think I could probably find the structure that would make it work. Cool scenes:

The protagonist is acting in such a way to leave all his options open, which means that he wants to avoid a fight because that would mean either confirming that he can fight or that he can't fight, collapsing the superposition, so he's going out of his way to not have to make that decision.

The protagonist retroactively was always friends with a police officer who took him in, making all the chilly conversation they've been having the result of an ongoing grudge.

The protagonist takes a big swing and fills in a whole swath of his past at once, a major investment ... and one that upends his stated goals up to this point, recontextualizing the entire novel and making it "about" someone else.

Plus all that "standard" stuff to do, like retroactively knowing how to ride a motorcycle, handle a gun, hold breath for two minutes, etc.

I don't know, I think that it could work in prose, so long as you're clever enough about how and why you're doing things, and correctly explaining things to the audience.

#pitchposting

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rafeskai · 2 days ago

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Game On | Gamer!Rafe Cameron x Gamer!Reader

Leveling Up

Summary: After your first game of Call of Duty with Rafe, what began as a casual gaming session quickly turned into a growing friendship. Rafe’s support and encouragement not only helped you improve but also gave you the confidence to explore a new world of gaming. When he introduced you to his squad, you found a place where you truly belonged, forming bonds with the group and deepening your connection with Rafe.

Pairings: gamer!reader & gamer!rafe

Warnings: N/A

Author's Note: Another random 'chapter' to this AU

The next day, you sat down at your console, still buzzing from your game with Rafe the night before. It was your first time playing Call of Duty, and you had to admit—having Rafe guide you through it had made all the difference. You didn’t expect much out of gaming, but somehow, it had turned into something more.

As you scrolled through your friend requests, you spotted a notification: killshotking had added you. You smiled, your heart skipping a beat. You had a feeling he might, but seeing it pop up made it real. You quickly accepted the request.

Almost immediately, a message popped up from him.

killshotking: “Yo, it’s Rafe. You on? Want to play again?”

You hesitated only for a second before typing back.

angelhunter201: “Definitely. You up for a rematch?”

A few seconds later, he replied with a thumbs-up emoji.

killshotking: “Let’s do it. I’ll invite you to the party.”

The sound of an invite popped up, and you joined the party chat, ready for round two. As the game loaded, Rafe's voice came through your headset, smooth as ever.

“Ready to kick some ass today?” he asked, his voice playful but with that underlying competitive tone.

“Ready as I’ll ever be,” you replied, your fingers gripping the controller with a little more confidence than before.

The match began, and this time, you were on your own a bit more, but Rafe still guided you when needed. There was something comforting about his voice, a mix of experience and encouragement that helped ease your nerves.

“Good job on the flank,” he praised after you took out an enemy trying to sneak behind your team. “You’re getting the hang of it fast.”

You felt a blush creep up on your cheeks, even though he couldn’t see it. “Thanks. I think I’m finally starting to understand the map a bit.”

The game flowed better this time, and you were making plays you hadn’t thought you could. Between the gameplay, you started talking more—asking Rafe how long he’d been playing, what other games he liked, and just getting to know him. You were still figuring out how to talk to him without sounding like a total noob, but Rafe seemed easygoing, never making you feel less-than.

“So, you’re pretty good at this,” you said between rounds, still not fully used to talking while playing. “How long have you been playing?”

“Been at it a while,” he replied casually. “Started when I was a teenager. It’s just kind of stuck with me.” He chuckled. “Kinda like a second job, but more fun.”

“You must be really good then. I’m still just trying to get the hang of everything.” You laughed lightly, not wanting to make it sound like you were fishing for compliments, but Rafe took it in stride.

“Hey, you’re killing it already,” he reassured you. “You might not realize it yet, but you’re picking it up fast. You should see the people I started with—no offense to them, but they weren’t as quick as you.”

You felt a rush of pride at his words. It was easy to get lost in the game, to forget how new you were when Rafe made you feel like a natural.

As the match wrapped up—another win for your team—you noticed that you weren’t just feeling good about the game. The conversations between rounds, the joking back and forth, had been... fun. You found yourself smiling more than you had in a while.

“So, uh…” You hesitated a little, not sure how to make the transition, but you figured it was worth a shot. “Do you have Discord? I was thinking it might be easier to chat there.”

There was a brief pause on the other end. You were starting to regret asking when Rafe’s voice came through, casual and a little surprised.

“Yeah, I do. That’s actually a great idea. It’d be easier than the in-game chat.” He sounded like he was already pulling up his app. “I’ll send you my handle.”

He quickly sent over his Discord username, and you added him right away. The second he accepted, the familiar ping of a new message appeared.

killshotking: “Yo, you good to play again soon?”

You quickly typed back, excited at the thought of playing with him again, but also eager to chat more outside the game.

angelhunter201: “I’m down. I’ve got some free time today if you want to team up again.”

The conversation flowed easily in Discord, and for the first time, you felt like you were building something more than just a gaming partnership. Rafe wasn’t just a player to you; there was something about him that made the whole experience feel different. He was kind, laid-back, but also competitive—exactly the kind of person you could enjoy spending time with, whether it was playing or just talking.

The next few hours passed in a blur, more games, more conversation, and as you logged off for the night, you couldn’t help but feel like you had just started something new.

You’d gone from a nervous newbie to someone who was excited to game again with someone who wasn’t just a teammate but maybe even a new friend... or something more.

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

The next couple of weeks felt like a blur, but in the best way possible. You and Rafe had quickly settled into a rhythm of gaming together. What started as a casual invite to play Call of Duty turned into nightly gaming sessions, each one filled with laughs, playful banter, and some surprisingly deep conversations in between rounds.

You had learned so much from him—not just about the game but about life in general. Rafe had a laid-back attitude, but there was an undercurrent of determination in everything he did, whether it was playing a match or talking about his goals outside of gaming. It was that same energy that made you keep coming back, eager to talk to him and team up again.

One evening, as you logged in for another session, Rafe had a surprise for you.

"Hey, got a minute before we queue up?" he asked, his voice casual but with a hint of excitement.

"Yeah, what's up?" you replied, adjusting your headset.

"So, my boys are on tonight. Figured I’d invite you to squad up with us." He paused, adding, "I think you're ready to hang with the crew."

You hesitated for a moment. It was one thing to game with Rafe, but meeting his friends—especially if they were anything like him—was a whole different level. You hadn’t expected to be introduced to anyone else, but it seemed like Rafe trusted you enough to bring you into his circle.

"Uh… sure, why not?" you said, trying to sound more confident than you felt. "I’m down."

"Sweet," Rafe responded with a grin you could practically hear through the mic. "It’s gonna be fun. Just hang tight."

Within a minute, you were in a party chat with Rafe and three other people. You could hear them laughing and chatting already, their voices blending into one cohesive, casual atmosphere.

"Alright, guys," Rafe spoke up, and the chatter quieted down a bit. "This is (Y/N). She’s been playing with me for a while now, and I think she can hold her own. (Y/N), this is Topper, Kelce, and JJ."

“Yo, welcome!” Topper’s voice came through loud and friendly. "Glad to have another one in the squad."

"Hey, hey," JJ added, a bit more laid-back but still welcoming. "Don’t worry, we go easy on the newbies. For the most part."

Kelce’s voice followed, quieter but still friendly. "Glad to meet you. Let’s see what you’ve got."

You smiled to yourself, feeling instantly at ease with their friendly, easygoing banter. Rafe had definitely picked a good group of people to hang out with. You quickly introduced yourself, and the group dove right into the match.

As the game progressed, you found yourself getting comfortable with the group dynamic. JJ’s dry humor kept everyone laughing between rounds, while Kelce was surprisingly tactical, always offering suggestions on strategy. Topper was the most competitive, always pushing everyone to play harder, but you could tell he respected the effort each person put in. And Rafe—well, Rafe was still your go-to teammate, always ready to guide you and make sure you felt included.

It wasn’t long before you had your own little moments with each of them. You had a blast joking with JJ, asking Kelce for tips on how to play smarter, and even getting a competitive streak going with Topper. But the best part? You felt like you were becoming one of the boys—like you’d found your place in this tight-knit group. Rafe had made sure of that, introducing you as a real member of the squad and not just a tagalong.

That night, after an especially intense match where your team pulled off a clutch win, Rafe messaged you on Discord.

killshotking: "See? Told you they’d like you. You fit right in with the crew."

You couldn’t wipe the smile off your face.

angelhunter201: "Honestly, I didn’t expect to get along so well with everyone. You guys are great."

angelhunter201: "Yeah, we’re a good bunch. And you’re holding your own out there, so that makes you one of us for sure."

You felt a little burst of pride at that. It felt good to be accepted, not just as a gamer but as part of a team—part of Rafe’s circle.

The following weeks were a whirlwind of late-night gaming sessions. You had started to improve drastically, and the more you played with Rafe and his friends, the more you started to feel like you truly belonged in their group. It wasn’t just about the game anymore—it was about the camaraderie, the inside jokes, and the way Rafe always had your back.

As you spent more time with them, you couldn’t deny that something had shifted. Your connection with Rafe had grown deeper. There were those little moments during gameplay where you’d catch him looking out for you, giving you an extra boost of confidence or a tip to help you improve. You weren’t sure if it was just the way he was, or if there was something more there, but you couldn’t ignore the way your heart raced when he smiled or the way your stomach fluttered when he complimented you on a play.

One evening, as the game wrapped up and the team started to log off, you stayed behind, wanting to talk to Rafe.

“Hey,” you started, feeling a bit nervous. “You, uh… you’ve been really cool to me. I just wanted to say thanks for introducing me to the crew. It’s been a blast.”

Rafe chuckled, his voice warm and easy. “Of course, (Y/N). You fit in with us. You’ve earned your spot, no question.”

You felt that familiar flutter again, but you brushed it off. “I guess I’ve still got a lot to learn, huh?”

“Don’t worry,” Rafe said, his tone softening. “We’re all learning. Just having fun along the way.”

You smiled, but this time, it wasn’t just about the game.

The connection between you and Rafe was becoming undeniable, and you couldn’t help but wonder what it might look like outside of the game, in the real world. But for now, you were content—content with your spot in the group, and more importantly, content with the way you and Rafe had begun to level up, both in the game and in getting to know each other.

#rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #outer banks #outer banks x reader #obx #obx x reader #drew starkey #drew starkey x reader #rafe cameron obx #rafe cameron request #rafe cameron season 4 #drew starkey fanfiction #game on by rafeskai #game on

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azzifuddfanpage · 2 hours ago

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All I want for Christmas is You

Thanks for the prompt 😛 2.1k words

themes: Christmas? Idk

tw: smut

prompt: This is around now/ them being in a relationship. The wholes team is kinda sulky and grey after losing USC even thought it’s almost Christmas. They are all just chilling in the dorms, playing video games, chatting, and packing up for the break. Azzi decides to surprise Paige with an earlier Christmas gift. She calls her over and reveals her festive lingerie. Paige is obviously gooning and immediately shuts the door. (go all out with the scene I didn’t have any l ideas 💀)After a while they realize they went a little crazy and are defiantly gonna have to wash themselves up… and the sheets. “Paige why are you cleaning the sheets right before your leaving for home?”- a teammate asks. -😛

The entire media conference after the game was brutal. Paige sat there and was professional but wanted nothing more than to wrap herself up in Azzi’s arms.

After 3 years of dating, they had been closer than ever. Azzi was the only one who knew how to make her feel better-way better- after a loss.

When they were back in the dorms, everyone was just chilling in the living room of the suite.

Paige sat with Ice and Kk playing fortnite trying to get her mind off of the loss.

Paige was one to take the loss personally so she would do everything she could to get her mind off of it.

“Hey do you know where Azzi is?” Paige asked as she went for another kill.

“She’s still with the trainer.” Ice replied shortly as she continued fiddling with the remote. Distracted, paige handed off the remote to sarah who happily took over for her.

Paige missed Azzi, bad, the longer they had been dating the more needy Paige had found herself for her.

Paige slumped onto the couch behind them facing Azzi’s bedroom door, and pulled out her phone.

—-

Me: wya I miss u😕

💗: I’m at the trainer I’ll be home soon Paigey

Me: 😐

💗: it will be worth the wait trust me I have a surprise for u

Ur gonna like it a lot trust me….

—-

It looked like the day was gonna be looking up.

30 minutes later, the front door opened and Paige immediately whipped her head around to make eyes with Azzi.

Paige immediately stood up and ran to Azzi wrapping her arms around her waist tightly and snuggling into the crook of her neck.

“Missed you so much baby.” She said as she breathed in the smell of her coconut shampoo and vanilla perfume.

Paige looked down and saw Azzi was carrying a black and pink bag. Her eyes perked up.

“Is that what I think it is?” Paige whispered teasingly while attaching her lips to Azzi’s neck making her giggle.

“Maybe… but you’re gonna have to wait a few minutes so I can get your present all set up.” Azzi responded moving her hand up to play with paige’s blonde hair that had fallen into her face as she clung to her.

“Present? What for?” Paige said eagerly trying to snoop in the bag.

“Paige! Be patient, no peaking. It’s just an early Christmas gift. Just stay here and I will call you in when I’m ready.” Azzi replied pulling away from paige and walking to the bedroom.

Paige smirked and walked over to the couch as she watched Azzi walk into the bedroom.

Paige spread her legs a little as Azzi turned around watching as Azzi blushed her eyes darting to her clothed center.

Azzi then put a finger to her lips and disappeared into her bedroom.

Paige felt her panties dampen in anticipation on what Azzi had planned for her.

The longer Azzi took the more needy she became.

10 long minutes later she heard Azzi call out.

“Paige can you come help me in here?” Paige bolted up and brusquely but nonchalantly (or so she thought) to Azzi’s room.

“Fuck guess I need to grab my headphone” ice said laughing as Paige shut Azzi’s door behind her. They weren’t exactly quiet.

Inside Azzi’s room paige walked in to the bed and felt two hands creep around the back of her head covering her eyes.

“Guess who” Azzi smirked behind her

“Hmmm I don’t know Q?” Paige said teasingly.

“Alright you’re not getting your present after that one.” Azzi laughed as paige hungrily turned around.

“Where is it?” Paige said as she looked at Azzi who was wearing her pink fluffy robe.

“Get on the bed and I’ll show you.” Azzi said dominantly giving her a shove so she would fall backwards.

Paige crawled up to the headboard and turned around so she was facing Azzi watching her in awe.

Azzi slowly reached for the tie of her robe and began to undo the knot.

Paige felt her breath hitch as she watched the pink fluffy robe slide down Azzi’s shoulders and drop onto the floor.

Paiges eyes scanned Azzi’s body in adoration.

She was weary a silver and red lingerie set that was lacy and completely mesh.

Paige thought her eyes were going to bulge out of her head at the sight of Azzi’s perky nipples poking through the thin shear fabric.

Suddenly paige found herself extremely needy for Azzi’s touch.

“You’re so beautiful Azzi.” Paige said her eyes continuing to stare at her body.

Azzi smirked as she climbed onto the bed and crawled towards Paige.

Azzi pushes her shoulders so she is now fully laying on her back on the bed.

Azzi sits up staring down on her, straddling her legs.

She leans forward and starts to press soft kisses along her jaw and neck.

“You’re the prettiest girl in the world.” Azzi says in between kisses as Paige lets out a soft sigh.

Azzi moves her hands downwards, lips still connected to Paige’s neck, and tugs on her t shirt.

Paige puts her hands up instinctively and Azzi slides it off her, immediately coming in contact with her soft nipples hardening under Azzi’s gaze.

“Wow no bra? Someone was ready for this, huh?” Azzi laughs as she connects her hands and begins to massage Paige’s chest.

“Wanted to be ready for your surprise.” Paige whispers eagerly as she pulls Azzi’s face in to kiss her.

Paige’s hunger for Azzi’s skin is almost bubbling as she runs her tongue along Azzi’s bottom lip. She attaches her teeth and pulls watching Azzi lean towards her needily, letting out a breathy moan.

Azzi starts to grind her hips against Paige’s pelvis begging for friction.

Azzi leans back placing her hand on Paiges thighs as she arches her back and grinds down on Paige’s thighs.

A groan leaves paige’s mouth as she searches desperately for more contact.

She opens her eyes and watches in aw as Azzi gently grinds back and forth on her.

“Please.” Paige moans noticing the damp spot on Azzi’s panties.

“You need more baby?” Azzi says seductively as she begins to slide down paige’s pants continuing to ride her.

Paige lets out a yelp, biting her lip as Azzi presses her knee against paige’s clit.

“Oh god.” Paige groans as she throws her head back.

Azzi leans forward laying her chest on Paige as she continues to apply pressure on her pussy.

She starts to press kisses against her tits, sucking on her nipples and blowing as she starts to feel the slick accumulate in between them.

Paige moans loudly against Azzi’s chest.

“Shh! Paige you have to be quiet we don’t need anymore complaints.” Azzi teases as paige rolls her eyes.

“Haha very funny, if I remember right it was your screaming that had caroline running in thinking you were dying.” Paige replies still out of breath. Azzi returns the eyeroll and presses her hand against paige’s mouth to shut her up.

Paige spreads her legs wider giving Azzi more access to grind against her.

After what felt like hours of Azzi’s rubbing against her clit paige could barely keep herself together.

“Azzi please” she groaned “need to cum please.”

Azzi giggled to herself at her girlfriend’s fucked out state.

“Look at me baby.” Azzi said dominantly “I want you to watch me while you cum.”

Paiges eyes immediately popped open entranced by Azzi staring directly back at her.

Azzi’s eyes alone were enough to make her cum, and when Azzi started picking up the pace, rubbing herself against paige more aggressively, paige could no longer contain her cum, letting her juices spill out of her and onto the bed sheets as she moaned.

As Azzi continued to grind against her, riding out her high, paige began to rub her fingers teasingly over her panties watching as Azzi’s eyes rolled to the back of her head, already stimulated by her grinding against paige.

Paige watched Azzi intently focused on Azzi’s body.

As paige began to apply more pressure Azzi lifted her hips now hovering over paige’s stomach kneeling so her legs were seperated enough for paige to access her clit.

Azzi let out a raspy moan, and Paige pulled her panties to the side desperately needing to be in contact with her wetness.

Azzi’s warm heat coated her fingers as she rubbed back and forth against her pussy.

Azzi leaned over to stabilize herself as Paige stuffed two fingers inside her tight hole.

Paige began to thrust in and out of her stabilizing her by holding onto her waist.

As she felt Azzi’s legs shake she flipped them over so she was now on top.

With her new angle she pounded furiously into Azzi’s pussy, using her thumb to rub at her clit.

Azzi continued to moan loudly pulling at paige’s hair, thrusting her hips so paige’s fingers would dig deeper in her core.

Paiges fingers plunging into her gummy walls caused Azzi to shake with pleasure.

Hearing Azzi’s frustrated moans as she tried to rub herself against paige’s fingers.

Paige paused, watching as Azzi whimpered and squirmed deserpeate for her fingers to restart their pounding.

Azzi started trying to fuck herself on Paige’s fingers, desperate to reach her climax.

Just as Azzi let out another needy moan, paige plunged another finger in, pounding 3 in and out of her.

Paige uses her other hand to rub her clit, before pressing gently on her lower stomach.

With that Azzi feels the band in her stomach snap, and feels her cum spill out of her joining paige’s on the sheets

They go back and forth pleasing each other until they are just a heap of moans unable to catch their breath.

The sheets are soaked with sweat and their cum.

“Guess we may have over done it.” Azzi laughed her head laying in the sheets.

“Nahh don’t know what you’re talking about.” Paige replied cheekily.

They lay there nuzzled together for a little longer but eventually Azzi could no longer stand it.

“Alright I gotta shower and you have got to wash these sheets like this is just embarrassing I feel like I wet the bed.” Azzi huffed trying to sit up with Paige’s lengthy body weighing her down.

“I mean you kinda did.” Paige said trying to hide her giggle as Azzi glared at her and hitting her over the head with a pillow.

“Says you!” She shot back as she crawled out of paige’s grasp and stood up.

“We are leaving tomorrow morning early, if you don’t wash the sheets now they will be worse when we get back.” Azzi said as paige fell back onto the bed.

“Ughhhh” she whined, “I know I know I have to clean them. But I literally just did like 2 days ago… “ paige whined as she sat back up and grabbed Azzi’s hand.

“I don’t like when you shower without me.” Paige pouted fluttering her eyelashes teasingly.

Azzi shoved her face with her hand laughing, “you’re such a freak paige oh my god.” She pauses for a minute. “If you go clean the sheets we will see what happens.” Azzi says shrugging leaving the room so paige can ponder that.

Paige makes the executive decision it would be a good idea to see where things that night might lead with Azzi so she strips the bed and makes a pile to bring to the laundry.

Paige is fantasizeing about all the things Azzi might have planned since she is being a “good girl” and cleaning the sheets like Azzi asked her, when she hears a knock.

“Back so soon” Paige teases assuming Azzi couldn’t resist her… it was Aubrey.

“Uhm sorry, not who you were hoping, I just had a quick-“ Aubrey looks down at paige piling her sheets into her hamper, “you know what I’m gonna just ask Ice it’s fine.” She trials off. “Why are you washing your sheets paige?” She teases knowing exactly what it means.

“What do you mean? I can’t wash my sheets now?” Paige replied confused.

“You just changed them like two days ago? And we are leaving for vacation it’s not like you will be sleeping on them anytime soon.”

Paige smirked, “well they got dirty quick I guess.”

Aubrey stares at her a little confused then Azzi walks in the room and the pieces click.

Her eyes widen, “y’all are nasty” Aubrey says laughing running out of the room, likely to go tell Ice and Kk.

Azzi looks at Paige confused.

“What did I do?” Azzi says softly her big eyes staring at Paige, and paige can’t help but melt under her adorable eyes.

“She’s just jealous baby don’t worry.” paige says pulling her into a hug and rubbing her hand on her back.

#pazzi #paige x azzi #pazzi fic #pazzi fics

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