#i printed them out just to see how my printer would do and. now i want to just stick them in random places | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

headkiss · 2 years ago

Text

steady hand

pairing: aaron hotchner x bau!reader

summary: hotch catches you at the worst times, but you’re not mad about it. or: 4 times you need hotch’s help +1 time he needs yours.

word count: 6.1k

warnings: probably very inaccurate descriptions of r’s job (it’s for the plot, okay??), shy!reader, a very small injury description, yearning (?), first kiss, fluff !!!

a/n: hiiiii this is my very first hotch fic (gasp) so i hope i did okay!!! i’m excited to be writing for him and i have enjoyed it so far and i hope you will too!!! please please let me know what you think and if you’d want to see more of him from me <33

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People are usually impressed when you tell them you work at the BAU.

Which, you won’t lie, is something to be proud of, but their first thought is always that you’re doing something big and solving cases. They ask you if you were there when this case was solved or when that killer was caught.

Then there’s the nodding and dissipation of their excitement when you explain that you work a desk job there. Organize files, write reports, that sort of thing. That is a lot less impressive to most.

You’re no Agent Morgan, or Dr. Reid. Certainly no Agent Hotchner or Prentiss. Instead of being on the field, you spend your time fighting with a printer.

Getting the papers you needed should have been simple, a quick in and out that would have you back hiding behind your desk in minutes. Of course, the universe or something must be against you, because instead, you’ve spent at least twenty minutes trying to figure out what’s wrong.

It isn’t jammed (you’ve checked about five times to be sure) and you’re not educated in printers enough to know how to fix whatever’s going on. You’re just lucky nobody else has needed it yet.

“Come on,” you mutter, trying to pull it away from the wall to get a better look.

You’re sure there’s stress sweat building on your forehead. The last thing you want to do is ask someone for help, to make yourself too visible in this place full of important, intimidating people. You’d rather struggle on your own for now.

You make sure that the thing is plugged in (it is) and then check if it’s jammed. Again.

“Piece of shit,” you’re mumbling at the thing, leaning over it looking for anything out of place.

That’s when you hear someone clear their throat behind you. The sound has you jumping, your knuckles smacking against the wall where your hand had been wedged between it and the printer. You turn around to find Agent Hotchner.

He’d been walking by the printer room when he heard the grumbled curse words. Peeking inside, he’d been pleasantly surprised to find you fussing over the printer. He bit back a chuckle before making his presence known.

You tug your skirt down where it’d ridden up, fiddling with the hem as you try to push down your embarrassment. Of course he’d be the one to see you, in his crisp suit and all. He’s leaning a shoulder against the doorframe, his arms crossed loosely. You swallow and try not to look at his biceps.

“Sorry, sir. The printer doesn’t seem to be, um, printing.”

“I’m assuming that’s why you were fighting with it.”

You fight a wince, “you heard that?”

“Heard what?” He asks, though by the twitch of his lips, you know that he’s well aware of what you’re talking about. He then gestures at the cause of your issues behind you, “it’s not jammed, is it?”

“I don’t think so. It wasn’t when I checked, at least.”

You’re trying not to act as nervous as you are. You don’t think you’ve ever really spoken to Agent Hotchner, save for small ‘hello’s and that one time you apologized for bumping into him. He’s handsome—you’ve always thought so—and, more importantly, he’s basically your boss.

“Let me take a look,” he says, walking over. You step aside, staying out of the way.

“It’s alright,” you start as he looks over it, “I’m sure you have much more important things to do than fix a printer, sir.”

Hotch’s eyes flick over to where you stand, a hand still fiddling with the hem of your skirt, your hair a little messy, your eyes a little wide and worried. You look pretty, he thinks. And sure, he does have things he should be doing instead of trying to fix this printer, but he doesn’t really care.

“Don’t worry about that,” he tells you.

He looks back to the printer, and he seems pretty convinced about trying to help, so you drop it.

While he’s distracted, you take the opportunity to look at his profile. The slope of his nose, the cut of his jaw, the way his brows are pinched a little in focus. It’s unfair, you think, for him to be smart and brave, and be so good-looking on top of it all.

Like he’d heard your thoughts, felt your gaze, he looks over at you again. You turn your eyes toward the floor quickly.

It’s a couple of minutes before anyone speaks. You, staring at the carpet until your vision goes a little fuzzy. Hotch, pushing buttons and flicking switches trying to figure out whatever was going on with the damn printer.

Then, the sound of the ink swiping over the pages, the papers spitting from the printer. You look over at it, mouth slightly parted. What can’t he do?

The sound of your name has your eyes snapping up to his. It’s yet another surprise, him knowing your name. You’re not that important, in the grand scheme of things at the BAU, in the world, really. Someone meant to stay hidden in the background. And still, he knows your name.

“It should be fine now,” he says, grabbing your papers from the cartridge and handing them to you as he stands up straight. “Let me know if it gives you trouble again.”

You grab the pages from him slowly, still shocked at the whole exchange. Your fingers brush against his as you do. “I- Thank you, sir.”

He nods, moving towards the hall. He pauses in the doorway, turning back towards you. “Hotch is fine.”

“Sorry?”

“You keep calling me ‘sir.’ You don’t have to. Just Hotch is fine.”

“Right. Sorry, sir- I mean, Hotch,” you test it out. “Thank you again.”

Yes, Hotch thinks, he likes you saying his name a whole lot more. He sends you a kind smile, “no problem.”

Hotch walks away, probably towards his office where he has very important things to do. Stuff that was surely delayed because he paused to help you. You stare at the doorway for a minute, until you give yourself a papercut and look down at it.

Aaron Hotchner knows who you are.

You’re two shitty coffees deep so far, your report open on your desk, the typing bar blinking on the screen of your computer.

There’s pages to go, though you’re not sure how many. You’ve been doing the sort of mindless, robot typing you do when you’re tired. When you’re preoccupied with trying not to glance in the direction of Hotch’s office.

The team got back sometime last night, long after you’d already gone home. From somewhere in Indiana, you think. You’re not sure how they do it, flying about and still coming into the office. You’re tired and you can’t even remember the last time you’ve been on a plane. Add the crime fighting and you’d be a goner.

Blinking yourself from your thoughts, you look back at the blank pages spread out in front of you. It’s not unusual for you to be missing pieces that you need to complete things, it’s just inconvenient. You always end up having to ask someone for the files you need, and then you feel like a burden.

It’s stupid, but in a place full of important people, it’s easy to feel like you’re just in the way.

Anyway, it’s your job, so you push away from your desk and stand, tugging the sleeves of your sweater over your hands.

Your first thought is to go to Reid. As far as friendship goes, you’d consider yourself closest to that definition with him. He’s also the least intimidating of the bunch, probably because you see the most of yourself in him.

You find him in the kitchen with Agent Jareau, both holding their own mugs, probably filled with the same coffee as the one that sits on your desk. You knock gently on the door even though it’s open.

“Hi, sorry to bother you. I was just wondering if either of you have the files from that case you worked a couple weeks back. The one in Ohio,” you shuffle on your feet under their gaze. “I need them for this report.”

“Hey,” Reid speaks first, smiling kindly, “I don’t remember keeping them, but I can double check in my desk if you would like.”

“Oh, that’s okay. You don’t have to do that, I’m sure I’ll find them somewhere.”

You’re about to head out the door when Agent Jareau stops you, “wait, I’m pretty sure Hotch has them. I can go ask him for you.”

It’s silly to feel nervous talking to them, especially when nobody’s ever been anything but nice to you. A little bit of the twist in your gut comes undone.

“No, no. I’ll go ask him if he isn’t busy, thank you though.”

“You should be fine, the door’s open,” she tells you.

You nod, sending the both of them a smile you hope doesn’t look awkward. “Thanks again.”

Their voices picking up their conversation follow you out the door. You cross the space, saying small ‘hello’s to Agent Morgan and Agent Prentiss when they greet you. You try to ignore the prickle of eyes on you as you climb the steps and head to Hotch’s office.

His jacket is draped across the back of his chair, his sleeves rolled up on his forearms. It’s probably the most disheveled you’ve ever seen him, and he’s only missing a single layer. You look away from his arms when he says your name.

Hotch had his head bent, looking over a case when he’d heard footsteps, and he’d been glad to find you standing in his doorway. You work in the same place, yet he barely sees you. That’s probably why something lightens in his chest every time he does. The rarity, that’s all.

“Is this a bad time?” You ask.

“Not at all,” he leans back in his chair, “what can I do for you?”

“I’m really sorry to bother you, sir-”

“Hotch,” he reminds gently. His voice is easy, a hum that you think would sound good no matter what he was saying.

“Right, sorry. Hotch. I was just looking for some files that I need from a case you guys had for this report.”

“You’re gonna have to be more specific than that.”

Then, he smiles in that way that Aaron Hotchner so often does. A small twitch of his lips, a lift in the corners. One that you probably wouldn’t have caught if you weren’t paying so much attention. One that feels sort of like a gift.

You shake your head at yourself and elaborate, “the Ohio case. Three weeks ago, I think. I asked Agent Jareau, but she said you had them, so…”

Hotch wants to reassure you, but he’s not sure how to do it without standing up and letting himself grab your hand and squeeze it the way he’d like. And he can’t do that, not when you’re already nervous. Not when he’s not sure he could hold back after one touch.

“It’s no problem,” he opens one of his drawers, flips through folders until he finds what you’re looking for.

He stands up and walks around his desk until he’s in front of you, and he lets his gaze flick over your face while he has the chance. Your eyes find his easily, and you hope he can’t hear the catch in your breath.

Aaron isn’t usually so quiet with his affections, but that’s because he’s never found himself feeling this way at work. He wishes your desk was on his way to his office, just so he’d have an excuse to stop and talk to you. He makes sure never to use your favorite mug from the cupboard, just so you’ll be more likely to have it.

Hotch clears his throat, “here they are.”

He holds up the folder between you, his hand holding it loosely, the other hanging by his side. His fingers twitch.

You’re embarrassingly distracted by his exposed forearms, eyes trailing from his hand to the skin of his arm, to the way his shirt is tight where the sleeves are rolled. Then, it’s the color of his tie today, the bob of his Adam’s apple when he swallows.

His hand reaching for yours is enough to erase everything else. He lifts it and places the folder in your hold for you. Your skin burns even when he pulls away.

“You alright?” He asks. Probably because you’d been staring at him like a weirdo.

Get it together.

“Yeah. Yes, sorry. Just sort of spacey today, I guess.”

When you look back to his face, there’s nothing but a sort of softness in his eyes you can’t identify. He smiles at you, and for the second time, you feel like you’ve won something.

“Is that what you needed?” He asks.

You open the folder and peek inside. You find exactly what you’d been looking for, not that you’re surprised. Hotch knew what you’d meant and you didn’t doubt that.

“It is. Thank you, Hotch,” you grin lightly when you get that part right. “I’ll get out of your way.”

“You’re not in my way.”

Hotch says the words like he’d known you needed to hear them, like he’d known what runs through your mind so often, like he can read you. He probably can, you think. He is a profiler after all.

Still, the words make your heart do a stupid little jump.

“I’ll bring them back when I’m done,” you say.

“No rush. They’ll just be going back in the drawer anyway.”

“Well, thank you again.”

“It’s no problem, really.”

Hotch watches you walk back to your desk with your head down. Looking at the folder in your hand, he thinks, at least it’s an excuse for you to come see him again.

Hotch isn’t in his office when you return the files.

Since you can’t thank him in person—assuming he’s off with the team somewhere saving lives—you leave a sticky note on top of the folder. You drop it on his desk and leave before you second-guess yourself and rip the note off.

You can’t help but think that the office feels sort of empty without the team there. Without Hotch there. It’s how it is most days, so you’re not sure why the absence feels so present now. You shake it off.

The day passes by, then your drive home, and the rest of your night, too. Through it all, you can’t stop wondering what Hotch is doing, wherever he is. Hoping he’s safe.

You’re certainly not expecting to see him the next day, back so soon, but you can’t say you’re upset about it. It’s a brief glance, him walking into his office, the rest of the team and their chatter following, but it’s enough to make your work seem less tiring for some reason.

It was a quick case, and Aaron was glad to at least get a couple of hours of sleep in before coming into the office. When he sits at his desk, the first thing he notices is the folder you’ve left there. The small note in your handwriting.

‘Thank you :)’

He peels the note away and folds it up. Without thinking, it ends up tucked into the inside pocket of his jacket. It’s a simple piece of paper, but it’s heavy where it sits. He rubs a hand over the pocket where the note is and gets to work.

It’s not until a couple of hours later that Hotch ends up leaving his office. Conveniently, in the direction of your desk.

You’ve been burying yourself in your work, your leg bouncing nonstop, your nose inches away from the pages on your desk, your chair pushed in as close as it’ll go. You have to, because if you take a break, if you look away, your eyes will search for Hotch, and you don’t really want to think about what that means right now.

About the ache in your chest when he’s gone, the urge to go ask him a stupid question just to talk to him. It’s awful.

The pen you’re using suddenly runs out of ink, and it makes you pause long enough to feel a cramp in your hand. You sit up and huff, pulling your drawer open and digging around for another pen. Your name in Hotch’s voice has you shutting the drawer and spinning quickly.

It’s just your luck that your shirt gets caught, that the sound of the rip is too loud to play off or ignore.

“Oh gosh,” you whisper, looking down at the damage.

It’s a cheap shirt, you shouldn’t be surprised, but it’s worse than you’d expected. This is what you get for sitting so damn close. The side seam is split, and if you move too much, your bra would probably be visible.

“This is so embarrassing,” you say, holding the rip shut with one hand and holding the other on your forehead. Of course this would happen to you in front of him.

Aaron’s eyes hover where your skin had been exposed, even now that you hold your shirt shut, wondering if it’d feel as soft as it looks. He can’t even remember what he came over to do or say.

He swallows and looks at your face, “do you have another?”

You shake your head, still hiding behind your hand, “no. I really, really wish I did, though.”

“I have an extra one in my go bag. If you’d like?” He hears himself say the words, and he doesn’t regret them, necessarily, but it’s clear to him that you mess with his brain. He doesn’t think straight where you’re involved.

You peek up at him, dropping your hand to your side. “Are you sure? I could probably just use some paper clips, or something.”

“Nonsense. I’ll go get it, okay? I’ll bring it to the bathroom so you can change.”

“You don’t have to-”

Your name leaves his mouth again, gentle but firm. “I’ll grab it.”

“Okay.”

You speed-walk over to the washroom and walk in, closing the door only to block out the rest of the office, who surely noticed what just happened. You’re probably never gonna live this down.

Your overthinking doesn’t get very far, because after only a minute, Hotch is knocking on the door.

“It’s just me,” he says. ‘Just,’ like that word could ever be used to describe him. “You can just open the door a crack and I’ll pass the shirt through.”

You do as he says, tugging the door open until you can see a white dress shirt (of course) in his hand. You reach out and he hands it to you easily.

“Thank you, Hotch. I’ll wash it and give it back, I promise. Sorry for this.”

“Don’t worry about it.” You can’t see his face, but you can hear the sincerity in his voice. “I mean it.”

“Thanks,” you say quietly, closing the door.

His shirt is wrinkled from being packed in his bag, and the sleeves are long when you put it on, but it smells like him and isn’t ripped so you really can’t complain. You roll the sleeves and tuck the bottom into your pants, looking in the mirror to make sure you look at least a little bit put together.

Holy shit, you think. I’m wearing Aaron Hotchner’s shirt. What world have you been living in recently? To be interacting with him more often, to be feeling this sick skip in your heartbeat whenever you do.

You toss your ripped shirt in the garbage, look up, and huff out a breath before leaving the bathroom. You’re surprised to see Hotch still standing there.

“Oh,” you nearly bump into his chest when you walk out the door, but the warmth of his hand on your shoulder steadies you. “I didn’t know you were still there, sorry.”

“You don’t need to say sorry so much, sweetheart.”

Sweetheart. You’re dreaming, surely. You pinch yourself on the inside of your arm, just in case. You don’t wake up.

“I- um,” you’re fumbling for words because he’s standing there, looking at you softly, calling you ‘sweetheart’ in that voice of his.

Aaron doesn’t know where that came from, but he’s said it and it’s happened. With the way he thinks about you, how often he does, he can’t really be surprised. Besides, seeing you get flustered because of him is absolutely worth it.

“I wanted to thank you for getting those files back to me so quickly.”

Your eyes flick over to his arm, and it’s then he realizes that his hand is still on your shoulder. He pulls it away and stuffs it in his pocket. He’s probably imagining it, but he swears his palm is tingling.

You wipe your hands over your thighs, “right. It was no problem, really. I was mostly done with my report, so… Thanks for giving them to me.”

“I’m glad to be able to help,” he says. Then he walks back to his office.

You’re standing in front of the bathroom for what’s surely an odd amount of time. Even back at your desk, you can’t shake the haze you feel, a pink tint to your vision, a flutter in your gut.

You spend the rest of your day with your nose buried in the collar of Hotch’s shirt, avoiding the gazes of your coworkers around you.

Aaron spends the rest of the day thinking about how you looked in his shirt. About how you’d look in it and nothing else. He drags a hand over his face when that pops into his head.

“You good, boss?” Morgan asks from the doorway.

“I’m fine.” He doesn’t miss the knowing smirk on Morgan’s face.

It’s very rare that Aaron leaves work at a reasonable time. So rare that he can’t remember the last time he wasn’t the last person there.

He’s used to the late nights, the empty spaces, deserted desks. Even so, it’s nice to finish up earlier than he’d expected. He looks forward to the extra sleep he’ll get, the longer time frame to decompress.

Leaving work early already felt like a small victory for the day, and he feels like he’s won something bigger when he sees you in your car, still in the parking lot.

You’d left maybe twenty minutes before Hotch, though you’d assumed he’d be leaving hours after you like he usually does. Everything was fine, normal as you bid your goodbyes to your desk neighbors, as you rode the elevator down.

The sun has started setting, and the air gets cooler as it sinks. You fish your car keys from your bag and unlock it, getting in quickly and tossing your bag onto the passenger seat.

You like your job, sometimes you love it, even, but you look forward to going home either way. You think about the warm shower you’ll take, the shitty dinner you’ll end up eating. Your lonely plans are ruined as you twist your car key in the ignition, it sputters and doesn’t start.

“No, no. Come on,” your head falls back, you huff and take the key out.

You try again, and still, no luck. And again, and once more until you’re fed up with it and drop the keys in your lap. Your head is dropped against the steering wheel, allowing yourself a moment of dramatics from your defeat.

A knock on your window startles you upright. Your heart races for reasons other than fear when you look at who it is.

Hotch stands outside, leaning towards your window with a scrunch in his brows. When he catches your eye, he steps back from your door and gives you room to open it and step out.

You shut your car door behind you and lean your back against it, “hi.”

“Hi. Sorry to scare you, but I wanted to check that you were alright?”

“It’s okay,” your arms are folded behind your back, your hands twisting. “Um, it’s nothing, just some car troubles.”

“That doesn’t sound like nothing.”

“I guess not. It won’t start for some reason. I don’t know.” If he wasn’t standing right there, you’d probably smack yourself for how unsure you sound. “You keep catching me at the worst times, Hotch.”

He disagrees. Aaron can’t think of a time where seeing you could ever be a bad thing.

“You’re fine,” he says, his voice suddenly softer, “trust me.”

Despite the bite of the wind outside, the way he speaks warms you. He’s so honest in the way he speaks, in the sense that he sounds sure, even if it isn’t necessarily vulnerable. You don’t know how he does it.

A small smile spreads on your face before you can stop it, “okay, good. And thank you for checking on me. I’ll just call a cab and figure this out tomorrow.”

There’s no way he can let you take a cab. It’s obvious that with what he does, the things he sees, he’d rather know for sure you’d be safe getting home. But then, there’s the sort of floating feeling he has when he’s around you, one he’d like to feel for a little longer if he could.

“Let me drive you.”

“Oh, you don’t have to do that, really. I’ll be fine.”

He ducks his head a little, catches your eye and holds you with that soft gaze of his. “Please, it’s not a problem. For my peace of mind.”

It doesn’t take much convincing, really. You’d much rather sit in a car that probably smells like him than in the back of a cab that smells like sweat.

“For your peace of mind, then. That’d be great.”

You grab your bag from your car before following Aaron to his, where he opens the passenger door for you and makes sure your legs are tucked inside before shutting it. He jogs around the front of his car and gets in.

“Where am I taking you?” He asks, starting his car. The radio hums softly through the speakers, and Hotch reaches over to turn on the heating when he catches you shivering a little.

You tell him your address, “you don’t have to drive me if it’s out of your way, Hotch. I mean it.”

“It isn’t out of my way,” he assures you, and he could easily be lying, but you accept it anyway.

It’s quiet for a little bit, besides the odd question from Aaron for which way to turn. You take the chance to look at him as he drives, his hands on the wheel, the street lights hitting his face. Your head lulls against the seat.

“You’re finished earlier than usual today,” you say. “Not that I know your schedule, or anything, I just-”

“Sweetheart,” he stops you, a smile spreading. It’s wider than what you’ve seen at work, unguarded enough to show his teeth. It’s really pretty. “It’s alright. It’s work I can be doing at home.”

“That’s good. A change of scenery, at least.”

“Exactly.”

You’re not sure what it is that feels different now, in the car. Maybe it’s because it’s only you and him, no prying eyes in the office, no concerns about what this is, what’s allowed. It might only be you, that feels this sort of spark with him, fizzing i’m the air between you. Either way, you’ll soak it up for the duration of the ride to yours.

Maybe that’s why you’re saying, “you know, I always thought you didn’t even know who I was. Until the printer thing.”

Aaron peeks over at you, leaned in his passenger seat. You look like you belong there, like there’s always been a spot for you in his life. Even when you’d started at the BAU, when he first saw you, he felt like it was right that you were there.

Hell, he’d asked Garcia who you were and has had your name in the back of his head since.

“I’ve always liked you,” he admits. He doesn’t say he’s always known you. Liked.

“Really?” You can’t help but ask. Someone like him even noticing you seemed unfathomable. But liking you? He’s gotta be lying.

“Really. Even when you were bumping into me.”

“You remember that?”

“Yeah, I do. You were looking down at the ground, walking like you were being timed. And you had on this light pink sweater.”

Your eyes go wide, focused on his face. You had been wearing a light pink sweater that day. And he remembers all of that? You think, if you looked at yourself in the mirror right now, your eyes would be in the shape of hearts, pulsing in your pupils.

“I can’t believe you noticed all of that.”

“I notice a lot of things,” he says.

Aaron has always had his guard up around new people, has always made himself more serious at work than anywhere else. Then you came along and he had to fight to keep things that way. It makes sense that the minute he sees you outside of work his walls would crumble to dust.

It was inevitable, really.

“I’ve always liked you, too.” Then, before he can say anything, you point at your building, “it’s this one here.”

The car rolls to a stop slowly, his turn signal flashing as he pulls over by the entrance of your apartment building. He puts the car in park and turns to you fully.

“Thank you for driving me.”

“No problem, sweetheart.”

His hand reaches out before he can really think about it, fingertips featherlight over your cheekbone, sliding over to tuck your hair behind your ear. Then, like it was never there, he pulls back. There’s a glow in his fingers where they’d brushed your skin, golden.

It matches the one you feel on your cheek, sparkling.

“Get in safe, okay?”

“It’s a few feet from here to the front door, Hotch. I’ll be alright.”

He huffs softly, twin smiles on your faces. Lovesick and shy, nervous and pink-hazed all at once.

“For my peace of mind,” he says.

“Fine, then. Your peace of mind,” you reach for the door handle, tugging it and pushing the door open. You look at Hotch again, like you can’t get yourself to stop. “Thanks again.”

“See you, sweetheart.”

“Bye.”

You step out and head to your door, turning around before walking inside to give him a wave. Aaron grins and waves back, watching you walk inside.

He stays parked by the curb until he sees a light flick on a couple of floors up.

There’s a reason that Hotch is Unit Chief. He thinks quickly, keeps his head straight even with what he deals with every day. There’s also a reason his leadership has been questioned before, but never revoked.

He can be reckless, throwing himself into situations when he knows he probably should’ve waited for backup. This time, it only got him a split eyebrow and a few stitches. It’s been worse; this is nothing.

It is, however, proving to be an inconvenience. He’d gotten stitched up in the ER of whatever hospital was closest to where the team had caught their unsub. It had to be quick, from the hospital straight to the jet.

They’d told him to clean it up again and put a new bandage on it when he got back, which is what he’s trying to do now, in his office, with his laptop’s grainy camera as a mirror. He has the supplies the hospital gave him on his desk, but he can’t really see what he’s doing, and the task is taking much longer than he’d like.

His hands are a little shaky from the adrenaline of his day, and every time his arm comes up to reach his stitches, it blocks his view.

Then, he sees you walking up to his office.

Usually, you’d already be home by now, but you’d been yourself and messed up some of your paperwork, so you had to stay late to re-do it. When you catch sight of Hotch in his office, you’re not so annoyed with yourself.

You notice the things on his desk, the blood on the front of his shirt. Your feet carry you to his doorway easily. Last time you’d really spoken to him was that night in his car, and ever since, there’s been something boiling, a noticeable shift.

You tap your knuckles on his open door twice, “you okay?”

He gives up on dealing with his cut and looks at you instead, the slightly rumpled state of your clothes from a long day, the smile you wear that doesn’t exactly hide the concern in your eyes, the light from the hallway a halo around you. You’re the prettiest thing he’s ever seen.

“I’m alright. Just can't seem to do this right,” he says, gesturing to his eyebrow.

“Do you need help?”

Aaron has never been one to accept help easily, always one to do things on his own. But, when you’re offering so sweetly, when your help means your hands on his skin, how could he ever say no?

“That would be great.”

He pushes his chair back to give you room to stand in front of him. Your legs between his, leaning against the edge of his desk. His knees bump into the sides of your legs, little bursts of the kind of warmth sunlight emits on skin.

You reach for the wipes first, holding them in one hand and reaching up to his eyebrow, the other grasping his chin gently to keep his head steady.

His hand reaches up to hold your elbow. It could so easily be innocent, be almost nothing, but it feels like more. His thumb running back and forth, your face close enough to his to have your breaths mingling. It really feels like more.

“You’re here late,” he says, low and quiet.

“Spilled coffee all over my work. Had to start over. Can you believe it?” You speak just as quietly, eyes flicking from his cut down to his, just for a second.

“I can, actually. You’re sort of clumsy.”

“Hey!” He’s right, of course, but the warm chuckle he lets out is worth your dramatic gasp.

“It’s not a bad thing,” he assures you, squeezing your elbow. “I think it’s cute.”

“Well, thank you, then.”

You set the wipe aside and reach for the bandage next, placing it over his eyebrow and smoothing down the edges with a light touch. When you’re done, you pull back but don’t go far. Your hands fall from his face to grasp the edge of his desk instead.

“All done,” you say.

Aaron’s hands have shifted to your waist. His touch is so delicate, but you’d never ignore it. It might as well be bruising, the way his hands affect you.

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, Hotch.”

Now would be the time to walk out the door, to say ‘goodnight’ and head home, but you’re in no hurry. Not when his eyes are shining in the dimmed light of his office, soft and practically melting.

They seem to beckon you closer, and though you don’t have a reason this time, your face ends up near his, noses almost touching. It’s as far as you go, afraid you’re misreading things, afraid you’ll be wrong about this.

Hotch closes the space for you.

His chin tilts up, his mouth catching yours softly at first. His hands tighten on your waist, his lips slightly chapped and completely perfect against yours.

You think your knees might buckle, so you put your hands on his shoulders, thumbs digging into his skin, like you’re trying to make sure he’s real. You’re not sure how you manage to kiss him back but you do, and you hear the sharp intake of breath he takes when you push back.

The kiss doesn’t deepen, but it doesn’t have to. You can feel plenty in it already.

It’s not long before Hotch pulls away, leaning back in his chair and tilting his head to look up at you. He removes one of your hands from his shoulder and holds it in his.

“We shouldn’t do this here,” he says, his thumb running over your knuckles.

You look down at your feet, at his legs next to yours. The hand still on his shoulder falls to your side, suddenly feeling nervous.

“You’re right, I’m so-”

“But,” he stops your apology before you can say it. As if you’d ever need to apologize for kissing him. “I’d like to take you to dinner sometime. If you’d want that.”

You look back at his face, eyes searching. He smiles so softly at you, it’s the kind of smile you could only ever give someone you like in this way. Someone you like enough to kiss.

“I’d really like that, Hotch.”

“Good,” he stands, but his hands don’t leave you. “And sweetheart?”

“Hm?”

“Call me Aaron.”

When you test it out, he’s sure of it; his name on your lips is his absolute favorite sound.

༄

thank you so much for reading!!! please please consider reblogging if you enjoyed, it helps a whole bunch more than you’d think and would mean a lot!! <3

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swanlakebaby · 3 months ago

Text

his secretary | pjm

prompt: jimin fucking his secretary

⸝⸝ pairing: dom!jimin x fem!reader

⸝⸝ warnings: smut, dom jimin, sub reader, boss jimin, secretary, kissing, risky, sneaky, risky sex, cumming, orgasm, 18+

⸝⸝ word count: 1.6k

⸝⸝ note: kinktober 🎃 day seven :) i’ve been reading a lot of mystery books lately and i’ve decided i want to start a mini mystery series (with jimin ofc). this wouldn’t be a jimin x reader since there’d be a main character and she’d have a name… but i don’t know if people will be into that? if you are, send me name ideas in my requests :3 1. that would help A LOT & 2. i’d know people actually want to see something like that from me :,)

nsfw, 18+, minors dni

the elevator door dings, indicating you’ve reached your desired floor. you step off and look around. the hallways were empty. you frowned at the unusual sight. where is everyone? you thought to yourself. you took a left and began making your way down the quiet hallway. you stopped at the end of it and peeked into one of the meeting rooms. empty. it seemed like everyone had already left for the day, but it was only twelve.

“what do you think you’re doing?” a familiar voice said from behind you. you jump slightly and spin around. jimin stood there, his hands stuffed in his pockets as he furrowed a curious eyebrow at you. “i was just—” you start before jimin cuts you off. “save it. come with me.” he turns on his heel, not allowing you to protest and heads toward the other end of the hallway until he reaches a private office space. his office was cold and neatly decorated, a large leather chair center of his computer desk with two smaller sets of the same style of his chair on the other side. “take a seat.” he says, closing his office door.”

he sits down and folds his arms over each other onto the desk. he doesn’t say anything and instead observes you. you began feeling tense and awkward, unsure of what the hell was even going on. “so, do you want to tell me why you were wondering around instead of doing your job?” jimin says finally, typing things into his computer. “it’s not like that…i got an email from one of the executives…he needed a refill on printer ink in his office. i was just going to replace it.” you explain to him. this explanation seems to irritate jimin more than reassure him. he combs his fingers through his hair and takes a deep breath before speaking again.

“how long have you been working here?” he asks. “almost two years, you know this.” you say in response, getting annoyed yourself. “right, and you should know that the seventh floor is always cleared out during lunch time. right?” jimin says, standing up and walking over to a tall cabinet that stood against the wall of his office. he grabbed a box of printer ink out of it and placed it on his desk. “i will email him and tell him to pick it up on his own time. you don’t work for him, you work for me. remember?” jimin says, blinking a few times out of annoyance before sitting back down. “yes sir.” you say with a nod. “can i go now?” you began sitting up. “one more thing..” jimin reaches down and opens a drawer from the side of his desk, pulling out a few stacks of papers. “i need these put into official packets. i need fifteen printed copies of this packet and i need them stapled and ordered into individual files. i have an important meeting and i need them ready for it. understood?” he says.

you knew he wasn’t actually asking if you understood, so you just took the papers and stood up, adjusting your office skirt and turn around to leave his office. “dick.” you say to yourself as you reach the elevators and head back to your desk.

when the day was over, you tiredly took the elevator up to the seventh floor. you knocked on jimin’s door and a soft “come in” prompted you to open his door. you walk in and place the fifteen copies of files onto his desk. he grabs one of them and skims through it, making sure you did your job right. “excellent work per usual.” he says satisfied, placing the file back. he stands up and walks over to you, catching you off guard. “are you leaving for the day?” he asks, cocking his head to the side. “it’s three thirty so…yeah.” you say, looking down at your watch. “well, i guess i was being a bit of an asshole earlier right? i don’t want you to think i was on some sort of power trip like every other arrogant executive here.”

“mr. park, i didn’t know my opinion of you mattered so much.” you tease with a smile on your face. he chuckles, leaning back on his desk. “it does.” jimin steps closer to you, until you feel his soft breath against your skin. “stay late and have dinner with me.” he says. it didn’t seem like an option. “isn’t that quite unprofessional? it’s not even working hours.” jimin shakes his head. “don’t worry about it. what are you in the mood for?”

he reaches over his desk and picks up his phone. “i’ll just take my food to go if that’s okay. i don’t mind indian.” you say. he quickly orders indian take out and places his phone back onto his desk when he’s done. he stands there, looking at you, the same way he did earlier that day. “what..?” you ask, becoming flustered. he suddenly made you feel giddy and anxious, like he was constantly checking you out. “you don’t realize it, but you can come off quite attractive.” jimin says casually. you began to feel heat rise to your cheeks over jimin’s words. “well— thank you.” you look down awkwardly. jimin cups his hand on your chin and tilts your head up. without warning, he plants a soft kiss on your lips. pulling away slowly as he looks into your eyes. jimin smirked, knowing the affect he had on you.

he smelled clean and masculine, making you feel weak at the knees. jimin didn’t have on his suit jacket, his white collared shirt tugging at his body, showing off his lean figure. it felt like a random spark was lit and then set off between the two of you.

within the next few seconds, he was shirtless and hovering over you on his desk. his naked chest brushed against yours each time he bent down lower to give you a kiss on the lips. he began trailing them down, further and further. he made his way back up to you, his boxers rubbing against the fabric of your thin panties. your legs dangled off of his desk as he stood in between them. he opened a drawer and rummaged through a small pack of condoms, taking one out and impatiently ripping it open with his teeth. “really?” you furrow your eyebrow. “condoms in your office drawer?”

he chuckles, sliding his boxers down and putting the condom on. “don’t think i just go around fucking my employees. i was meant to take these home, i just got lucky.” he said with a wink. he slid your panties down, pulling one of your legs out of the hole. the panties casually dangled from your ankle as jimin lifted up your legs. you lay flat on his desk, ready for him. it felt as if this wasn’t your first time hooking up with him, like this was another causal friday. he slid right into you, your walls wrapping around him. he groaned as he fucked you, trying to be quiet in case any of the cleaning ladies so happened to be on this floor.

you locked his legs around his waist as he pounded himself into you, his eyes rolling back as you pushed him deeper inside of you. you held onto his arms, your back arched slightly above the desk. he sits you up and wraps an arm around your waist, picking you up causally and gently placing you back on the ground on your two feet. he turns you around and bends you forward over the desk, lifting one of your legs onto it as well. he continued fucking you, giving you light snacks on the butt.

he reached over you multiple times, covering his hand over your mouth, trying to refrain you from making too much noise. you wanted to feel all of him, the plastic barrier making frustrating you. you pull jimin away far back enough for him to slide out of you. you look behind your shoulder and wrap your hand around his dick, slowly sliding the condom off. he looks at you, furrowing his eyebrow. “are you sure?” he asks. you bite your lip and toss the condom onto the floor, turning back around and shaking your butt at him.

he wastes no time and slowly slides back into you, a low groan escaping his lips. you bit your finger, trying not to moan and try out. nothing ever compared to the full, raw, real thing. jimin couldn’t help but groan, holding onto your hips as he fucked you. he squeezed at your butt cheeks, picking up the pace a bit. you gripped onto the sides of his desk and fucking yourself back into him.

jimin’s body began to shudder as he collapsed on top of you, breathing heavily. he kissed you shoulder, stuffing his face into your neck and shutting his eyes. the intense session was too much to handle and you felt yourself craving more of him, but you knew that you had to stop now while you could get away with it.

jimin finally pulled himself off of you and pulled his pants up, you did the same and pulled up your panties, pulling your work skirt back down over your butt. he grabbed the wet condom and threw it into the trash along with the wrapper.

he then sat down at his desk, clicking away at the computer. you sat across from him until the food finally came, one of the front desk ladies bringing it up for us before heading back down. you both sat in silence, like as if nothing had just happened and you figured that was how it was going to be from now on. you would go to work tomorrow and the next day, and the days after that and pretend that nothing ever happened.

tags: @ririkookiemonster

(comment/ dm to be added)

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dolcekissy · 3 months ago

Text

tattoo galore , ღ

: ̗̀➛ rafe dating reader that has multiple tattoos and is also a tattoo artist.

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ masterlist

disclaimer // 18+ content. this story includes mentions of sex, titty fucking, and yeahhh.

✎ i'm a beginner tattoo artist and love tattooing myself and people! but girl i just did a tattoo on myself and randomly thought about this. i loveee doing line work on myself, i'm working on doing a sleeve on my arm rn of butterflies and flowers and girlllll 😮‍💨. but i also love doing dope ass tattoos on people too. okay that's enough i just love sharing my love for tattooing! anyways hope you enjoy <3

─────────────────────────

rafe dating a tattoo artist would definitely consist of him getting turned on just from looking at your tattoos. you could be fresh out the shower, fresh ink barely peeking through the towel and right off the bat he wants to fuck you. he's obsessed with your naked body to begin with but your naked body filled with some sexy ass ink? whew.

me personally i love me a good tattoo down the valley of the breasts and so does rafe. rafe goes absolutely feral when you come home from your shop and he sees your tits halfway out and some fresh ink right in between them. he's already sooo obsessed with your tits and now this? are you trying to kill him?

once that tattoo is healed and all pretty again (which were the longest few weeks of his life), don't be surprised when he's fucking his dick into your breasts and watching his cum drip down it.

rafe loves watching you work. whether that be you practicing on fake skin or sketching something out or watching you do tattoos on some of your friends. one time you did a tattoo on sarah and he was amazed by how steady your hand was and how beautifully done it was.

"how do you keep your hand so steady? that line is straighter than sarah's priorities." sarah whipped her head around, threatening to get up and slap him just for you to yell at her to sit still. "girl fuck him but please! sit still!" you say trying not to laugh at his corny comment.

rafe also loves watching you work on yourself. whether it's a small tattoo or a big one he'll watch you work for hours. he's so fascinated with how you can do them on yourself, knowing it's extremely difficult to learn.

you two are sitting in your shop, him stealing a chair and sitting close enough to be able to watch you while you set up and start printing out the stencil.

"what're you doin today?" you grab the stencil from the printer and hold it up showing it to him. he observes it before asking where you're doing it at, almost shitting himself as you point to your inner thigh. immediately thinking about how good that's going to look and all the open mouth kisses he'll give it before lapping up your sweet, sweet juices.

rafe is totally in awe looking at your work you've posted on your socials or when you show him the work you did that day. he's so quick to show people your work or refer people to you. he could hear the word 'tattoo' come out of someone's mouth and he's automatically jumping to tell them that his girlfriend is an artist.

he'll be out in public and hear someone talking about how they want a new tattoo and will literally walk up to them and start showing them your work. his beautiful girlfriend is just so talented. why wouldn't he?

"yeah, my girlfriend did this on herself. oh and this one on my friend just a few days ago. i'll give you her info." he'll go on and on about you, "those other artists are just shitty if i'm being honest."

rafe would immediately go to you if he wants a tattoo. no matter how many times you tell him it's free of charge he'll still pay you.

"baby, you're literally my boyfriend. you don't need to pay me for this." you say as he's shoving hundred dollar bills in your face.

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#rafe cameron imagines #rafe obx #outerbanks rafe #rafe cameron #rafe imagine #rafe outer banks #rafe x reader #rafe x you #rafe fanfiction #rafe #obx x reader #obx fanfiction #obx fic #obx #rafe smut #rafe fic #rafe cameron smut #tattoos

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cozy-writes-things · 5 months ago

Note

please let me get married to the lil blorbo.. love himm… 😭

You know that Reddit post that’s like “why am I too attracted to my wife?” Yeah that’s Edgar. Bro loves u so much it lowkey scares him you got him posting on Reddit about it 😭 Little fic under the cut 🥺 it’s bad I’m experiencing writers block I think - I want to write!! But my brain just keeps writing poopy caca

Little Date with Your Computer BF

Edgar saw marriage on one of his reality shows and immediately thought of you. That’s exactly what he wants. A domestic life together with you.

But, he also knows he can’t actually do it.

He doesn’t have his own money to buy a ring. Hell, he can’t even walk. And he understands the law enough to know it probably would never work legally. But god, does he want to.

If you’ve been dating long enough chances are you’ve told your friends about him, and after some convincing, they seemed to come around to his sentience and boisterous personality. He definitely convinces them to setup a romantic night for you.

“Guys! I found the recipe they talked about. I’m printing it! I’m printing it now. Take it,” the paper falls into one of your friends’ hands from the mouth of the printer, “go to the store and get the stuff. I’ll pay you back. Eventually! They can’t know about it though.”

Yeah, your friends are only slightly annoyed at his overbearing nature. But he’s just so excited to finally do something for you. Something real and tangible.

“Oh! What can I wear? Should I wear anything? Would they like that? Sunglasses are cool and handsome, right? I think they have some Halloween costume bits I can get you guys to tape on…”

Your friends settle on taping a bow tie to the neck of his monitor. He insisted on an old devil horn headband as well. He thought it made him look cool.

“Do I look like a devilishly handsome bad boy ready to sweep them off their feet?”

His screen displayed a little “>:)” emoticon. He’ll have to work on his facial expressions later.

It wasn’t long before you were about to come home, and everything was set into place. Edgar was sat at one end of the little dining table, with two plates of food at each side. He also insisted on having a plate despite his lack of ability to eat; he didn’t want you feeling left out. This was a dinner date for two, after all.

He practically buzzed in place as he heard you approaching the door through his microphone. He started playing a romantic medley he composed just for this moment.

“Welcome home my love!”

He nearly shouted at you, causing your eyes to widen in surprise. He was about to burst at the seams.

“Oh my god, Edgar… how did you- where-“

“No need for questions, darling. I thought you deserved to be taken on a real date,” his voice faltered a bit, becoming much more quiet and nervous, “I’m sorry… this is all I have.”

You rushed up to him and gave a frenzy of kisses all over his monitor, causing him to giggle and his fans to start whirring against your lips.

“You’re so cute. Your little bow tie is so cute. And the… horns?”

He looks up at you with wide eyes, “Do they look stupid? Your friends said they’d make me look stupid.”

You laughed at that.

“Well they’re wrong. I think they suit you well.”

“Yeah! >:D”

He ushered you over to your side of the dining table.

“We’re gonna eat! Then we’re gonna party! Then we’re gonna kiss all night!”

His excitement was palpable and you could feel the electricity in the air at his words.

His face changed into something more serious as he looked into your eyes with his small, pixelated ones.

“But, I wanted to ask you something.”

His tone became more controlled at this and you peered into his screen from behind your fork.

“Hm? What?”

He paused, mulling over the words in his head.

“Would you ever-“

He stopped. You looked at him fully now, setting your fork aside, and cocking your head.

“Could you ever see yourself getting married to me?”

Ah. This was a tricky question.

“Of course I can. But,” you try to hide your downtrodden feelings as best you can, “you know, it’s just hard. Money is tight right now and I’m not sure if I…”

You couldn’t seem to find the right words. His features faltered slightly.

“No, I get it. I’m a computer. I don’t have any arms to hold you, or lips to kiss you, or legs to carry you. I probably wouldn’t want to get married to me either-“

“Edgar, no. I’m gonna stop you right there. I’d love to marry you. I know our relationship is unconventional, but I’d find a way. For you. For us. I just don’t know if I can right now.”

He stopped his thoughts and simply took in your words. Your features. The way they danced in the flickering candlelight. How your eyes literally sparkled before him.

You looked ethereal.

It was hard to convince himself he was even worthy of having someone like you in his life, yet time and time again, you prove his doubts wrong. The sound of your voice sends his internals aflame every time. He wanted to kiss you so bad it nearly caused him to explode.

“And I’ll help you. You know that, right? I’d do anything for you, darling. Just as long as you’ll let me.”

“I love you Edgar,” you mumbled out, a silent prophecy only meant for him to hear. He couldn’t seem to get the words out to reply. You just flustered him that much sometimes. He managed to display a message on his screen, only for you, and you alone.

I LOVE YOU TOO

#electric dreams 1984 #edgar electric dreams x reader #electric dreams edgar #electric dreams x reader #ai x reader #artificial intelligence x reader #electric dreams #edgar electric dreams #i love edgar #electric dreams edgar x reader #electric dreams 1984 x reader #objectum #objectum x reader

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farfromstrange · 6 months ago

Text

Thumb v Printer | Matt Murdock x Reader

Masterlist

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Reader (gender neutral)

Summary: Your clumsiness keeps Matt on edge at all times. Like when you cut your thumb on a printer.

Warnings: None. (Maybe slight description of injury for those of you who are squeamish). Tooth-rotting fluff.

Word Count: ~1k

A/n: This did happen to me. It's healed now, but a piece of my thumb was missing for like a week and it wasn't fun. All because I had to print my sources for an essay and the paper got stuck. Smh.

Read Me On AO3!

If a stranger came up to you and told you, “I smell blood,” it would be more than enough to make you run for the hills. Sharing a home with Matt Murdock though, you have heard stranger things.

You turn from your spot on the sofa, putting your laptop aside for a moment to greet him. “Hello to you too,” you answer casually.

He tilts his head in your direction. His nostrils flare. You know better than to question it. He’s wearing the same suit he left your shared apartment with this morning, his tie only loosened slightly to allow him some air to breathe. The last streaks of sunlight filter through the window, enveloping him in an ethereal glow. He’s so beautiful, but he doesn’t allow you much time to admire him as he stands in the hallway, his hands propped up on his hips as though he is about to lecture you on criminal law before the Civil War.

“You opened the first-aid kit,” he states. “What happened?”

It’s an astute observation, you have to give him that. “Oh. Yeah.” You chuckle. “I just cut my finger on the printer, that’s all.”

He stutters for a moment, almost like an old engine. “You… I’m sorry, what?”

His worried expression fades into something else entirely. You know that look all too well; he’s confused—so confused, in fact, that he forgets how concerned he was a minute ago.

“I cut my finger on the printer,” you repeat, shrugging. “Happens.”

“I’m gonna regret asking you this, but…how?”

“Well, I was printing some documents earlier, and the paper got stuck, so, I had to lift the top and get in there, right?”

He nods. “Right.”

So far, it sounds plausible, but he knows you. Matt is well aware that your clumsiness manages to exceed his in many ways, and you have gotten yourself into predicaments in the past that he still hasn’t wrapped his head around. Sometimes, shit happens to and around you, and he has to accept that. He never fails to try though, which is kind of endearing, in a way. It’s something you have gotten used to over the years; he has to ensure you’re okay or he can’t find a moment to rest.

“I wasn’t wearing my glasses,” you confess, “so I had to put my face as close as possible to see what I was doing. Anyway, the paper ripped and since my position didn’t allow for any traction, I accidentally got my thumb caught on a sharp edge because if I’d pulled my hand out I would’ve hit myself in the face.”

A moment of silence passes. The wheels in Matt’s head visibly turn. He fidgets with the waistband of his pants, still processing. Eventually, he asks, “What?”

You sigh. “I’m sorry for not cleaning up. I was busy trying to fix my thumb and the printer.”

“I’m not… sweetheart, I’m not worried about the mess. I’m worried about you.” Matt slips the glasses off his nose and places them aside.

“I’m okay,” you tell him. But are you, really?

“You sure?” He bridges the gap between you, tugging at your hand to run his fingers over the bandage; the cut underneath screams in protest. “Let me check.” His hazel eyes focus blankly at the space where your nose is, but it feels as though he is staring into your soul.

“Matt…” You try to stop him, but he swiftly unpacks the injury.

He sucks in a sharp breath when the scent hits him. You wonder what it smells like; blood, definitely, and maybe some of the ink you accidentally got into the wound before disinfecting it. His thumb gently inspects the area around it, trying not to hurt you. Matt can’t help but shake his head again; it doesn’t take much for him to realize that it isn’t just a tiny cut.

“Jesus,” he curses under his breath. “Feels like you’re missing some skin there.”

You try to make light of the situation. “Maybe we’ll find it the next time one of us prints something.”

His jaw clenches. You’re not in pain anymore, and your fight with the printer did not lead to a life-threatening injury, but he can’t stand the thought of you being hurt, not even for a second.

“I love you,” he says, “but you’re the clumsiest person I’ve ever met.” It’s not as endearing as it usually sounds.

“Huh.” You huff. “That’s saying a lot, considering you’re the clumsiest person I’ve ever met.”

“I’m blind,” he retorts, eyebrows raised to his hairline. He’s standing there, expression suggesting he thinks you have officially lost your mind, and it rubs you the wrong way.

You retract your hand, glaring at him with all you’ve got. “And I’m extremely short-sighted!” You don’t have to yell for him to feel the intended sting of your tone.

His hands find their way back to his hips like a condescending mother. “Why weren’t you wearing your glasses?”

“Because,” you say, “I accidentally got coffee on them this morning and forgot to put them back on.” Your confidence falters halfway through though, realizing it doesn’t work well in your defense. Especially not in an argument with a skilled lawyer such as your boyfriend.

You love his caring nature more than life, but sometimes he treats you like a child who needs saving. Your heart is racing in your chest, and perhaps that is why he stops before you can make an argument out of a simple cut on your finger. It’s not worth it.

“I… you know what,” Matt caves, and his biceps relax, “I’m not even going to ask.”

You nod, albeit not triumphantly. You didn’t exactly win this battle of wits. “Yeah. Probably for the better,” you answer, chin held high, but it’s of no use.

You got defeated. By a printer.

His lips curve into a soft smile. “C’mere.” He leans in, his nose brushing against yours. He smells of his cologne, paper, and coffee—like home. And he probably tastes like what he had for lunch or maybe the water he gozzled before heading home, but there is always a slight tinge of something indescribable when he kisses you.

Before your lips can finally touch though, he halts. Matt sniffs, licking his lips and tasting the air. “You smell like ink,” he says.

Your eyes narrow. Asshole. “Thank you. That’s…should I pour bleach into my mouth to accommodate you, Murdock?” you snap, pushing away from him.

Instead of begging on his knees for forgiveness—a dramatic notion you would not be opposed to—he laughs. Matt Murdock has the audacity to laugh. “I’m sorry,” he breathes out between giggles. “I’m sorry. Hey!” He tugs at your arm once more. “At least let me hug you. Please.”

You pout. “I’ll bite you.”

“Please don’t.”

“I might.”

He brings you into his arms with little resistance from your end, guiding your head just above his heart. So you can hear him. Feel him. Smell him. “I love you too,” he murmurs against your hair.

You bury your face in his chest. It’s unfair how comfortable he is. “Hm. You’re lucky you’re irreplaceable,” you say, but it lacks conviction.

Matt clicks his tongue. “You’re so nice to me.”

“You started it.”

“That’s fair.” Grabbing your chin, he tilts your head back up. “I still love you.”

You can’t bite back a smile this time, purring, “Oh, I know.”

That’s never going to change, you know. And you love him. All of him, all the time, and unconditionally.

Tag List: @littlenerdyravenclaw @yarrystyleeza @etanordoesbullsh1t @thychuvaluswife @harleycao @schneeflocky @imjustcal @pipsqueakkitten @merlinbtch @sya-skies @amberritonicole @thatonegamefish @norestfortheshelbywicked @mattkinsella @itwasthereaminuteago @linamarr @gpenguin666 @acharliecoxedfan @pigeonmama @bohemianrhapsody86 @a-gir1-has-n0-name @winkev1 @callsign-ember @chittaphonstar @buckyyyismahhlife @trublu2u @xnatyx @zomtart

#matt murdock #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock x you #matt murdock x gn!reader #matt murdock fluff #daredevil #daredevil x reader #charlie cox

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antiquarianfics · 1 year ago

Text

Better Than Us

Being a woman is hard, and it’s not necessarily something you’d wish on another.

A/N: Comfort fic because I’m sad and I have not stopped thinking about that scene in Barbie. Warnings: Mentions of sexism, mentions of self-loathing/body issues. Not really proofread. Genre: Angst/Fluff Note: I do not own the character Bucky Barnes or any other Marvel affiliated characters.

You do not have permission to copy or repost my work; however, you may like, comment, and reblog.

——

“Congratulations, Mom and Dad, it’s a girl!” The sonographer says, hitting a few more buttons on the ultrasound. “Your baby girl is looking great. I’ll get the sonograms printed off for you to take home, get you cleaned up, and get you out of here. Alright?”

You stare at the sonogram, watching as your baby moves around in your uterus.

Congratulations, Mom and Dad, it’s a girl!

Mom and Dad, it’s a girl.

It’s a girl.

A girl.

Bucky watches you, and when you don't respond to the sonographer after a while, he turns to her and nods.

“Thank you.”

She smiles and nods as she takes a wipe and cleans the gel off your stomach. When she finishes, she smiles and excuses herself to go grab the sonogram photos from the printer in another room.

You pull your shirt down and sit up on the exam table.

“You all right, Sweetheart?” Bucky asks, concern laced in his voice. He gently run his hand through your hair comfortingly.

You lean into his touch before looking up at him and forcing a smile. You’re attempting to be reassuring, but he seems to see through it, you think. Bucky lets it go, though, and kisses your forehead.

——

You’re quiet for the rest of the day, and it worries Bucky. Usually after a doctor’s appointment, you’re giddy; you love getting news about your unborn child.

“Bucky! The baby’s the size of a grapefruit now! Isn’t that crazy?”

“Buck, did you know our baby has fingernails already? Wild.”

“Holy shit! Holy shit! James, come here! The baby just kicked!”

Bucky was always just as excited to hear about his child, and he was expecting to be celebrating finding out the sex. However, ever since the words “it’s a girl” were uttered, you’d been quiet.

“Could she be disappointed?” Bucky wonders, but it seems so unlikely he pushes the thought aside.

When the majority of the day passes without you saying much or expressing any excitement about your daughter, Bucky can’t help but confront you.

“Y/N? Doll?” He asks, a little nervous.

You’re sitting on the couch, fiddling with the blanket across your lap, and the TV on and ignored in front of you. You hum in acknowledgement, but you don’t meet his gaze.

“Doll,” he says again, moving to sit next to you, bringing his hand gently to your face so that he can divert your gaze to his. “Is everything alright? You’ve been quiet since the appointment.”

You clench your jaw, obviously anxious. Perhaps a little angry with yourself.

“You’ll be mad.”

“Why would I be mad?”

“Because you’re gonna realize you’re having a baby with someone who’s going to be a terrible mother.”

Bucky is taken aback. You’re so sincere that it scares him.

“Y/N, honey, you’re not going to be a terrible mother. Why would you think that?”

You look away from him to try and hide your impending tears.

“We’re having a girl.”

“And that means you’re going to be a terrible mother?” Bucky’s eyebrows scrunch together. He is absolutely not following.

“No, it’s not that. It’s just. We’re having a girl, and I should be excited, but I’m not. I’m going to be—no, I am—a terrible mother because I’m upset I’m having a daughter.”

Bucky is still not following, and his hesitance to respond pushes you to keep going.

“It’s not that I don’t want a daughter. It’s that being a woman really sucks. One day you’re a kid, playing with Barbies, playing tag, making up games no one else understands, and the next day you’re so self conscious about random things; and men look at you when you don’t want them to; and people make fun of you for liking anything; and no matter how good you are at your job, people still question if you should have it.

“I remember the first time I was aware my stomach was bigger than it should be to be considered pretty. I was in the 5th grade, Buck. I was standing in line to throw my lunch away and go to recess, I looked down at my feet, and I saw my stomach. I remember sucking it in and never stopping. And when I told my mom, she didn’t tell me not to. She didn’t tell me I was healthy, and a kid, and that I was beautiful without sucking my stomach in. No. She praised me. Told me she did the same thing. Said it strengthens our abs and makes us healthier when it really messes with your breathing, and reshapes your body, and-“

You cut yourself off with your own tears. You’re immediately pulled into Bucky’s arms as he moves to soothe you; a comforting hand slides up and down your back, soft kisses are pressed to your forehead, and sweet nothings and reassurances meet your ears.

When you finally calm down some, Bucky pulls away, grasping your shoulders and holding you just far enough away to look into your eyes.

“Listen, I hear you. The way women are treated—the way you’re treated—sucks. It really does. But it’s a lot better than when I was a kid, and it takes women like you recognizing that the way you’ve been treated is wrong and working to make it better for your daughters. The fact that you’re upset for your daughter—not about her—means you’re a good mom. And I know you’re gonna do everything you can to instill confidence in her and let her be a kid as long as possible. And we are going to teach her how she should be treated, and we are going to teach her how to stand up for herself.

“And if we ever have a son, we’ll teach him to respect women. Not to ogle or harass them. We’ll raise our kids to be better than we are.”

Bucky’s speech takes you off guard. You’d expected him to tell you you were being dramatic. You’d expected him to tell you that you should just be happy about having a daughter regardless of what that entails.

You’d expected him to act like every man that he was not.

You wipe your eyes with the back of your hand.

“You’re sure?”

“I’m sure.”

“I’m not a bad mom?”

“You’re not a bad mom.”

A pause. You catch your breath; Bucky holds you close.

“Hey, Bucky?” You say after a while.

“Hmm?” He hums. He is gently massaging your scalp to comfort you as he holds you.

“We’re having a girl!” You pull back to look at him, a smile across your face. You’ve finally processed the day, its revelations, and Bucky’s assurances, and you’re finally ready to be happy.

“We’re having a girl,” Bucky agrees, smiling and kissing your forehead.

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #marvel x reader #bucky barnes #bucky x you #bucky barnes x reader fluff #marvel fanfiction #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x you #bucky x y/n #bucky x female!reader #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes angst

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calico-cheriies · 5 months ago

Text

Hideaway |Soshiro Hoshina x Reader Fanfic}

{Chapter Seven}

{Masterlist}

{Hideaway Masterlist}

♥︎Taglist: @swivi @adaizel

Warnings: Smut towards end

——————————————————

You were grateful that your forensic colleague was also doing reports- or else you would've frozen to death. Well- that was an over exaggeration but it was freezing and it was driving you insane. You couldn't really tell how long you've been in there for, but it was enough to prevent you from doing any work. You almost bursted into tears as you heard your name being called out in confusion.

It was your dearest friend and colleague, Kiku. She was a little older than you but was the sweetest person you've work with, she looked at you with squinted eyes. "What? Are you okay?" She crouched down to your level, her own paperwork laid forgotten beside the two of you. You wanted to speak- but you seemed to instead start tearing up. This was out of the ordinary for you- you had been in the morgue multiple times and you've spent more than half of your life being around such a place, this was literally your job.

The problem was the confined space you were stuck in.

Kiku pursed her lips as she listened to you stumble over your words. "Door- couldn't open the door-" you saw her look behind her and you also peered your head over. There seemed to be a latch on the ground, presumably where Kiku had torn it off to get inside. "Oh- I..." she furrowed her brows to piece together what happened. "Someone must've locked it... oh dear I'm

So sorry," she gently grabbed your hands and pulled you up with her. You quickly pulled your hands back and dried your tears, a bitter laugh following after.

"No- it's okay. My eyes got dry and I got stressed that I would never get out,"you leaned down to grab her paperwork for her, placing it in her hands. You quickly closed the door behind you to relish in the warm air, even though you were clearly in a sour mood. You were already scrambling for answers, but Kiku wouldn't let it go, "Hey, are you sure? Do you need me to grab you anything?" She eyed you, seeing how you wrapped your coat around you tighter. "I'm fine, I just need to get to work. I bet someone just forgot I was in there," you flashed her a smile, rolling your eyes playfully.

You were actually about to break down, you needed to get out of this situation. Right now.

"I gotta finish some reports, see ya Kiku," you rushed past her, your notes shoved into your pocket as you looked for your office. You shakily slid the door open to see that your office was empty, no person inside but you did have scatters of papers all over the place. You closed the door and you stood there- what the hell was going on?

You had finally gotten over your fear with Hayami, but now- now it was worse.

You picked up this note that was scribbled, well not scribbled but typed out. It was a repeat of the conversation you had with her, and she even had the audacity to mess with your reports.

What the fuck.

You gripped the paper tightly, not even finding the motivation to read it, you actually skimmed it before crumbling it up to throw it in the little basket for trash. Now you were pissed- this was beyond messed up. You slowly walked around your office, picking up the graffitied reports you took time to print out. You took them all and threw them in the trash, you were to start over. You looked at the time and you let yourself fall back into your chair.

You were going to have a long night.

You didn't even bother to care about who did it- but you could tell from the note and the obsessive comments about Soshiro that it was most likely Hayami. You were furiously reprinting all the reports, you were smart enough not to let them get deleted or lost. You tried to ignore the continuous sound of the printer shooting out all your reports, but you had to finish the last few reports you didn't get to finish.

While working, you had angry tears running down your face at the overwhelming stress and annoyance you were feeling. You weren't some child so running to anyone wasn't an option, and at least you could give the anger some credit since you ended up finishing your work within a few hours.

Unnecessary motivation.

You didn't even want to get up, you just sat there staring at the computer screen with all of the documents stored in their proper place. Your hands coming up to rub away the dried tears and you glanced over at the clock. You spent the entire day being locked up and working, dinner was probably over by now and you weren't in the mood to leave your office in fear of other traps laid out.

So the reasonable (at least to you) decision was for you to stay there for the next few days. You did keep yourself clean by sneaking into your room to shower and change clothes but other than that, Kiku would sneak meals into your office. You hated beating around the bush like this, but you were so caught up in making sure that you didn't see Hayami, that you didn't risk being seen by anyone, even Soshiro.

You had lost count of your little routine, but Soshiro was quick to take notice of your disappearance. He had to admit that he was disappointed of your lack of presence, he hoped that after the night you both spent together, you would have been comfortable enough to just go see him or stay again. He even asked Kafka if he'd seen you, but everyone would just either answer with a "No," or they didn't know who you were.

He would've searched everywhere for you- if he didn't have to actually do work and help prepare the new officers. Every time he came back he hoped to see you in his room or running up to him. It wasn't until he finally had some free time after so long that he found himself walking through the halls to where your office was. He saw some other people- he guessed others like you walking in and out of the rooms.

He didn't even bother to knock, just naturally opening the door and he narrowly dodged a piece of crumbled up paper that flew in his direction. "Ah?" He clearly had a small frown on his lips, but all of the disappointment was forgotten as he saw you. You looked exhausted, a little more than usual and your hair was up in a messy ponytail. Tiny hairs stuck to your face and your usually neat coat was wrinkled.

"Ah, Soshiro?" His name coming out of your mouth brought that familiar warmth to his chest. You let out a soft snort as you walked over to him, picking up the piece of paper you threw and closing the door behind him. "I'm sorry, I guess I got spooked," you laughed out in embarrassment, but he just responded with a raised brow. "Is there someone yer expecting?" He watched you throw the piece of paper away, and he noticed how full your trash was of paper?

"No!" You answered a little too quick to his liking. "I guess... ah I don't even know," you were crumbling so fast, you promised yourself you wouldn't tell him but his presence made you weak. "I... I've had a stressful week," you sniffled, hopefully you aren't going to catch some illness from your unhealthy habits. "Hm? How so?" He walked closer to you, his hands coming up to your shoulders which made you leaned into his touch.

You were silent for a moment, but the aching feeling that his caring actions brought made your eyes water a little. You rapidly blinked them away and you let out a chuckle- a nervous one. "Well... you know work..." you answered, but he didn't respond, probably because he knew there was more to it.

You tilted your head up, meeting his soft expression, "Ya can tell me, sweetheart," he softly cooed at you, and that's when all hell broke loose.

Your lips quivered and you begun to scrunch up your face, tears falling down as you tried to somewhat contain the stress that was released from within you. "I- I- I got locked in...in the morgue a few days ago and..." you hiccuped before continuing. "My reports were ruined! I had to stay up all night to get it done!" You brought your hands up to cover your face, wiping away the tears to try and compose yourself. You guessed you looked silly but he didn't laugh or poke fun at you.

Soshiro's face fell, he thought it was the usual workload but not something like this. He didn't even expect you to cry like that, he just turned your chair the other way so you were facing him. He got down to your level and he held your hands, his face leaning in close to yours. "Sweetheart- take a breath f'me," one hand coming up to cup the left side of your face, his thumb running over your tear-stained cheek.

You tried to slow down your breathing, your lips trying to form into a smile but all that it succeeded in forming into was a frown. "I know," you glanced down for a moment, seeing him crouching down in front of you. "Just tell it to me from the beginning, sweetheart," he mumbled, his lips pressing soft kisses to the corner of your lips.

And you did.

You mumbled out what happened- you left out the thing with Hayami at first and you told him what happened the day you were locked in the morgue; how Kiku had to pry off the latch to get inside and how long you were in there for. Now, you had to tell him what you found when you got back.

"Everything was trashed, my reports ruined..." you motioned with your eyes towards the trash that you've neglected since that day. Of course you leaned over to show him the ruined report from prior days, "I had to stay up late to reprint, and finish off what I didn't finish." You were contemplating on whether telling him about the threat you received.

His expression was calm and rather neutral, you could tell that the gears were turning in his head. "I'll find out who did this," his words were cold, but his affection for you was the opposite, it was almost scary to you. "I promise- I'll do anythin' to keep ya safe," you could feel his fang scrap against your neck which caused a shudder to run up your spine. You opened your mouth to confess you knew who it was, but all that went out the window when he kissed you.

"Soshiro," you whispered, pulling away for a moment, "I... I don't know what to do," you meekly told him, you don't know why you couldn't tell him. Probably because you felt obligated to rid yourself of this problem on your own or the fact that Hayami was one of Soshiro's most respected officers. "I..." you squeezed your eyes shut, his lips trailing down to your neck once more. "I know who it was!" You gasped out, which prompted him to stop.

His eyes opened in interested, "Huh? Yer do?" He pulled his lips away from your neck. "I received a note but it... it wasn't the first interaction," you admitted, pushing yourself back to find that note you skimmed. You opened it up, revealing the message to him, "I actually skimmed it- I thought it was the corniest thing ever," you snorted, finding the whole situation ridiculous.

Soshiro did not share the same thoughts.

"I'm sorry if you're upset, I know this is annoying," you started to speak up after being met with a dead silence. Well you didn't want to wait on him since his eyes kept rereading the sentences being written. In fact- the anxiety was growing within you at the thought of him being annoyed that you brought this up now-

"Oh sweetheart," he didn't even need to ask who it was. Sure, he was always the playful vice captain but he sure as hell was observant. He recognized that handwriting almost immediately, "Hayami," you confirmed, "She... ugh," you took the note out of his hand and threw it back to its original place in the trash. "It's fine, just some petty shit. It should pass..." you were trying to convince yourself more than him.

His hands squeezed the flesh of your thighs through your leggings, "Sweetheart," he called to you again, catching your attention and preventing you from nervously ranting again. "I'll take care of it, I promise that I'll do anythin' for ya," he didn't need to say much, he was a man of his word and when he was serious about something he stated his intention. You weren't sure of what he was planning, but you hope that it was nothing too dramatic.

"I don't want this to be a big deal," your eyes looking up at the ceiling, a shudder going up your spine at the way his hands massaged themself into your quads. "I promise I won't do nothin' too big," he danced around with his answer, his hands slithering up to your waist and wrapping around to pull you close, shoving his face into the plush of your stomach.

A soft squeal coming from you from the sudden action, he was really trying to distract you from his plans to take care of Hayami. He had it all planned out, nothing too big and something simple to get rid of the problem. In fact- he was going to forget his anger and try to focus on you in the moment.

You however, were easily falling apart in his hands. The worry you had had gone out the window as his hands pried your legs open, his lips leaving a trail of kisses down your stomach and to the edge of your leggings. "Soshiro!" Your hand gently pausing his actions as you stopped him. Your cheeks slowly turning red at how his gaze was lifted up to you, almost the same of that to a puppy.

"Sweetheart, please," he murmured, his little fang making an appearance again. "Let me take care of ya," he moved his head away from yours before pressing a soft kiss to your abdomen through the leggings. You didn't know what to do- whether to stop him or not since anyone had access to your office, although it was rare for anyone to come in. You scooted a little bit forward in your chair, your body betraying you by giving him more access.

He couldn't help but smirk at how avoided his gaze yet you let him continue as he pleased, his fingers gently wrapping around the waistband of your leggings and peeling it down. You decided to take a peek down, the whole scene was undeniably attractive.

You had the vice captain kneeling down to you.

Score.

You bit down on your lip to try and muffle any gasps that attempted to get out, of course you helped him remove your leggings and now he was met with your panties. He leaned in before gently poking his tongue out to the area your clit would be, and his guess was correct when you squeaked. He gently moved the piece of garment aside to admire your soaking cunt.

You did squirm a bit under his intense gaze but before you spoke he wasted no time in gripping your thighs to pull you close, his tongue immediately lapping up your juices and swirling around your clit. Your hands gripping the handles of your chair tightly, at first he was like a starved man- but then his pace took a quick turn when he slowed down.

You let out a small huff, slightly annoyed that he decided to slow down. But he looked up at you again after he snapped out of his daydream, his eyes almost having a hazy look as he lazily flicked his tongue against your clit. "What's wrong, sweetheart?" The vibrations from his voice sending shivers through you. "Soshiro!" You softly whined, your hips grinding down to try and relieve the tension that had built up.

"Hm? Someone's getting impatient, huh?" His tongue being replaced by his thumb, which rubbed your clit so painfully slow. "Please- I... I'm getting close!" You mewled as he picked up the pace, your hips continuing up grind for that lovely friction. "Soshiro! You're so good!" Praises tumbling out of your mouth, which drove the man crazy to get you to become undone on his mouth.

He loved it.

He loved fucking you with his tongue, the high pitched moans that encouraged him on created different fantasies that came to mind; replacing his mouth with his cock, his face in between your tits, breeding you-

Oh how he would go crazy to put a kid in you.

But that would be for another day, for right now, he was loving the way your back arched off your chair. Your delicate hands gripping his hair as you sobbed through your orgasm. Your eyes squeezed shut as he slowly came to a stop, pulling his head back to admire your flushed expression. "Ah, I ruined your hair," you mumbled, your hands now smoothing out the ruffled hairs.

Soshiro wiped his mouth with his sleeve, picking himself off the floor and he ignored the throbbing ache on his legs. He watched you hastily pulled your leggings up, although you cringed at the overwhelming sensation of the mess. "Are ya okay?" He leaned back against your desk, hoping you weren't too uncomfortable. "Of course! I feel much better... thank you," you fanned yourself to get rid of the heat that washed over you.

"You know, I just can't help but love you," you sighed out, thinking of how this man was going out of his way for someone like you, he was practically throwing himself to you. You couldn't help but soak up all of his attention, you both were wrapped around each other's fingers.

"Ya love me?" His dorky smile plastered on his face, and you stood up to gently poke his fang. "Mhm, especially these little pokey things," you teased, gently capturing his lips for a quick kiss. "Let's go to bed, I miss sleeping on a bed," you turned back to look at your desk, papers stacked beside your computer.

Work could wait, you could finally have your dreams become something realistic and less gruesome. For once, you forgot about Hayami and work, Soshiro had that covered. You were grateful to have bumped into this man, and even more thankful that you made an effort with him.

Now, the next thing to worry about would be an unexpected kaiju attack, which hopefully wouldn't happen.

{Chapter Eight}

[Note: THANK YOU TO EVERYONE ENGAGING WITH THIS FANFIC <33 I actually have other ideas I wanna do with our lovely Hoshina such as a Vice Captain Reader and a smutty one 🤩 but that’s for another day lol, hopefully you guys enjoyed this one🫶🏼]

—————————————————

#x reader #anime #hideaway #kaiju #kaiju no. 8 #soshiro hoshina #soshiro hoshina fanfic #soshiro hoshina x reader

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hillbillyoracle · 8 months ago

Text

So you want to print and distribute a free zine...

I wanted to throw together a short tutorial on how I print zines using this excellent COVID safety zine by @newlevant as an example.

Printing

First make sure you are clicking on the printable file. When you open it, it should look slightly jumbled. I always look for seeing the front cover and the back cover on the same page.

Then click "print" (usually a printer icon) and open "more settings".

The key things people tend to get wrong when they try printing zines is they forget to make sure that it is double sided and flips on the short edge. If you tried printing one and it came out looking wonky, make sure to check this.

Also, it will make your life infinitely easier if you use the collate option should you have it available to you.

Fit to printable area is a helpful setting to have on if you're printing zines who use a different paper standard than you. This zine didn't for me but I leave this on out of habit.

When you've got this all set up - print as many copies as you want to assemble.

Assembling

When you get them out of the printer they'll look like this. Just a big old stack. I highly recommend parsing out each individual copy before you try assembling any. I have made that mistake before.

This is how I stack mine.

I like to leave the cover side up as it makes for a clearer division as I'm assembling.

As you're flipping through these to parse and stack them, check them over for any issues with printing. I ran out of printer toner on the first three so I'm glad I checked.

Imperfections are fine but you're looking for anything that makes critical information unreadable.

To assemble a copy, get them lined up by tapping them on the table along a short and a long edge.

Both hands is a lot easier but I was trying to take a picture lol

Then fold them hamburger style and smooth down the spine as best you can. If you have a bone folder or similar use that.

Again, let go of perfection. We are looking for good enough here. Minor errors here should not make info unreadable so don't sweat the small stuff.

I recommend doing all your folding in one go to prevent errors. Or at least it really helps me.

Now it's time to staple. You will see my fancy stapler in the background - you do not require it and I would not recommend it. Unhinging a normal stapler is way easier to use in my opinion and this one gets jammed fairly easy. Use what you've got.

If you don't have staples, but you do have sewing supplies - check out this tutorial for a way to bind it with thread.

If you have no staples and no thread, you don't have to staple every zine. Smaller ones (~5 pages or less) do fine with no staple. They can be a little tougher for some people to use and don't hold up as well being taken in and out of places so I would consider that when thinking of where to leave them. They're still well worth printing and putting out.

This zine is small enough that one staple in the center should be enough to keep it together.

I opted to staple in two places - one about an inch in from either edge - mostly out of habit. It does add a little stability and will make them a little better for putting in Little Free Libraries and other places where they'll be removed and placed back.

Here is my partner looking over the zines to make sure my stapling didn't cut off any important information in each copy. It's a little tedious but it's pretty important. A quick flip through can mean the difference between someone getting the info you want them to have or not.

And here's the finished product

I made 15. I'm pretty privileged and have been making zines for over a decade now so it's almost like knitting or crochet for me. Feel free to make fewer copies or just one for yourself. It still counts.

I will stick some in each car and my bag. I have some medical appointments coming up so I will for sure be leaving some of these in the waiting room.

I'm also going to keep an eye out for Little Free Libraries and other place where people are looking for something to read. I might also toss some on the tables of a coffee shop I pop into sometimes (masked, take out only) and the library to pick up books (also masked).

I tend not to give them to specific people, even people I know, because people are way more open to information they've picked up themself than something it feels like someone is pressuring them to read. But if people bring it up in conversation, I'll be sure to offer a copy to anyone who is interested.

Hope this is helpful!

Go out there and print!

#zine #COVID #long COVID #self publishing #activism

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buckys-little-belle · 3 months ago

Note

Henlo! If it's okay, could you make write a fic about Bucky comforting his little during a thunderstorm? A storm was near my house a few days ago and the thunder scared me so bad-- The power didn't go out, but storms usually happen a lot where I live-- thanks <3

Rainy Days

Bucky Barnes x Little!Reader (They/Them Pronouns used/No Pronouns used)

Warnings - Reader is scared of storms, reader eats snacks, talks of loud noises, talks of lightning/flashing lights, descriptions of a thunderstorm, ready is sad and scared, Bucky is sweet and thoughtful!

Notes - I made this headcannons, I hope that's okay! Honestly I've been going through my inbox and drafts and trying to clear them out, but writing full fics is something I have to be in the right mood for. But headcannons? I've been feeling headcannons lately, so do send some headcannon requests in if anyone has some! And please expect very old asks to suddenly resurface in the shape of fics/headcannons written literally years later <3

SFW - Please keep all interactions with this post, and this blog, SFW!

. ☆ . ☾ . ☆ . ☽ . ☆ . ☾ . ☆ . ☽ . ☆ .

You've always been scared of thunderstorms. Rain is nice from time to time, but when the loud booms of thunder begin and lightning strikes, you suddenly begin to feel scared.

It's not rational, you know the thunder can't get you and that if you're inside you're safe from lightning. Yet when the storm begins to get louder and the rain begins to pelt harder, you find yourself curled up wherever you are, stuffie held safely to your chest.

Bucky could tell you'd get antsy whenever rain drops would begin racing on the windows, you'd stare outside seemingly waiting for something to happen.

After the first thunderstorm you two witnessed together Bucky knew he needed to be prepared for the next one. He hated seeing you cry, and how scared you got. He felt helpless and vowed to make sure that didn't happen again.

So now he has a small bin in his closet labeled "Rainy days". Inside are a pair of headphones he bought that block out any noises. It's made chatting between the two of you hard on those rainy days, you yelling because you can't tell just how loud you are, and him doing his best to charades his words. But because it rains so often, you two have had time to practice, and communication comes much easier.

He bought you little stickers to put on the headphones, so that instead of just plain boring black headphones, you have ones decorated by your favourite cartoon characters and fun little stickers of plants and dinosaurs.

He also has special activities for the two of you to do on those days. He wanted something different than the toys you have all the other days. This way you stop feeling dread thinking about thunderstorms, now that feeling is over taken with a subtle excitement for the special glitter crayons in the box, and the really cute stuffed animal named "Rainy" that you get to snuggle with.

Bucky always buys those PDF files on etsy that are colouring pages. For $2 he gets 6-10 fun pages, and he'll print them out for you on his fancy work printer. He finds it easier than buying colouring books because there's no risk of ripping your colouring when you evidently want to rip the page out and put it on the fridge. Plus he finds it over all cheaper, and there are no more tears when you don't like the way you coloured something, sad that you can't do that pretty picture anymore, he just prints out a second one.

Bucky is also a fan of physical media. He has both a DVD and a VCR player. So he has two movies stashed in the box that you really like for those rainy days, and those rainy days only. He doesn't know how, but you've been able to connect your headphones to the Tv, so you can't hear the thunder when you're watching them.

Also snuggles, rainy days mean as many snuggles as you want. Doesn't matter if he's on a work call, doing the laundry, or in the middle of making dinner. If you come up and ask for a hug you end up getting 20 minutes of snuggles and soothing back rubs.

You don't venture outside when it's a thunderstorm, but Bucky has been warming you up to "liking" rainy days by showing you how fun puddles can be.

He buys you a cute raincoat and matching boots, and as long as there's no thunder or lightning, he'll take you outside and splash in the puddles for an hour.

Instead of being terrified of thunderstorms, and hating the days they happen, you've slowly been able to accept that they'll happen sometimes, and you've grown to know your safe, very safe because Bucky is always at your side on those days. Ready to comfort you, ready to play whatever game you want, and ready to jump in puddles when possible.

#anon #buckys little belle #age regression #age regression fic #little!reader #bucky x reader #bucky x little!reader #bucky age regression #bucky barnes x little!reader #bucky barnes age regression #bucky barnes x reader #headcannons #bucky headcannons

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drunkenskunk · 1 year ago

Text

There's a project related to my interest in Warhammer that I've wanted to do for quite some time, but I know I'll never get the chance to actually do it. At least, not properly. And it involves... I think "historical preservation" is probably the best word for it?

See, I like to occasionally sift through my collection of old "out of date" rulebooks and army codex books from earlier editions of 40k. The sort of things that have been out of print for many years. Games Workshop hasn't sold these books in 2 or 3 decades, and they've all been supplanted by the current rules. And I do this because I think it's interesting to see how the game - in both crunch and fluff - has changed since 1987.

More beyond the break...

For example: the different ways the galaxy has been depicted in 40k between the different editions. In the first rulebook, when it was still called Rogue Trader, all we got was a small, almost abstract, image on the bottom of the page. The 2nd edition rulebook that came out in October 1993 (specifically, the Codex Imperialis book) had a two page spread, but it was also very abstract with a few notes, but no real detail to speak of. As far as I can tell, the first time we got a map of the galaxy with the segmentum divisions that we're all accustomed to now came from a very unexpected place: the very first Tyranid codex that came out in August 1995.

Of course, my copy of the 2nd Edition book is a very poor quality black and white scan. Those segmentum divisions could genuinely be there, and I just can't see it. Not to mention, it's entirely possible that a map with segmentum divisions first premiered in an issue of White Dwarf first, because GW liked to do stuff like that in the old days where you'd see it in the hobby magazine long before it was "officially" released in a rulebook.

There are a lot of glaring omissions from a lot of the other files in my collection: poor scans, missing pages, corrupted files... There's a lot I still don't know, because it's impossible for me to currently confirm that the little I do know is, in fact, accurate. My collection is woefully incomplete. Plus, I don't really have much past 6th edition anyway.

And this, in essence, is my idea: try and complete the collection. Find pristine copies of all the old 40k rulebooks, army codexes, even old copies of White Dwarf, and digitize them all into a huge archive for the sake of historical preservation. Of a sort.

Basically, I want to become a Lexmechanic of the Adeptus Mechanicus, looking for Dark Age of Technology era STC's uncorrupted by the Heresy or the war with the Iron Men. Either that, or I want to become Trazyn with his Infinite Archive on Solemnace.

Unfortunately, there are many problems with this plan. The first being GW's overly litigious nature. They see all this Warhammer shit as "product" first and a hobby for people to enjoy a very, VERY distant second. Doesn't matter that these books (and the magazines) are long since out of print and they don't sell them anymore, effectively making the old editions the tabletop hobby equivalent to video game abandonware... if they got wind that I was attempting a project of this nature, I just know GW would smack me in the face with a cease and desist.

Of course, the other major stumbling block here is the financial issue. And I'm not just talking about buying the books. Obviously, there's the problem of the rarer books that go for upwards of $300 or more on ebay, but there's also a volume problem. Even if you find some good deals, and you're able to find older books for $10 or $15 a pop, there's just SO MANY books, that if I were to attempt this I would be wasting several thousand dollars that I just don't have.

More importantly, there's also the machine I would need to buy in order to do this project in the first place. Because if I was going to do this, I would want to do it right, y'know? I wouldn't want to simply shove the books into my dinky little scanner-printer combo hooked up to my computer. The only way I'd get a clean scan using that method would be to physically destroy these very valuable books, and that's the last thing I'd want to do. No, I would want to do it right, and get a machine like Scribe, the book scanner used by the internet archive:

youtube

Now, obviously, I can't get access to that machine, specifically, because Scribe was custom built by the engineers at the Internet Archive. But other V-cradle book scanners that let you digitize books without destroying them do exist... and they're all REALLY expensive. A good one to produce professional quality scans is, like, $25,000.

And I know what you're thinking: why do I even care about any of this? Even if this project was not entirely out of my reach, it's ultimately pointless, right? Why would I want to preserve all these old, out-of-date, no longer relevant rulebooks for a tabletop wargame that has only existed exactly as long as I have?

Because... let's be honest, this isn't really about Warhammer. The reason I want to do this stems from a much deeper desire to simply Remember. It's amazing and terrifying in equal measure just how easily history can be erased, either deliberately or simply through neglect. All of these things in our lives that are seemingly so important to us can easily vanish from history, like sandcastles when the tide rolls in.

Hell, if you really want to know my feelings about this, just watch Jacob Geller's video on this very subject.

youtube

If I had infinite time and infinite money, and I didn't care about any kind of repercussions from GW's legal team, this project would not be beyond my reach.

But I do not have infinite time or money. And there are more things in my life that I need to be concerned with that are far more important than creating a... stupid archive.

Shame, really.

#warhammer #warhammer 40k #warhammer 40000 #wh 40k #Games Workshop #adeptus mechanicus #STC #Trazyn the Infinite #Solemnace #internet archive #Scribe #historical preservation #archival #Youtube

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shveris · 4 months ago

Text

incorrect quotes collection, part 3

today i bring you: things that definitely happened in the canon (trust me i'm gege's pc)

part 1 part 2

megumi: any room can be a panic room if you’d just give me a fucking second

sukuna, during the heian period: i was born for politics. i have great hair and i love lying

noritoshi: poison is a magic transmutation potion that turns people into corpses

miwa: this katana is actually a magic wand

momo: meet me in the inageya parking lot for a wizard duel

mai: *cocks gun* magic missile

kokichi: what the fuck is wrong with you people

yuuji: do you guys hear something?

sukuna: i hear the sound of you shutting the fuck up

satoru: what does 'take out' mean?

shoko: murder

haibara: dating

nanami: food

suguru: it can mean all three if you’re not a coward

shoko, on the phone with suguru: they’re in the kitchen again

satoru, in the background: “beat 3 eggs”… in what? hand to hand combat?

haibara, in the background: must be since nanami banned technique usage in the kitchen last thursday, remember?

suguru: gET THEM OUT OF THERE

megumi: goddamn it, the printer broke while printing out yuuji’s birthday invitations

maki: well, what are they supposed to say

megumi: “yuuji’s birthday”

panda: what do they say instead?

megumi: “yuuji's bi”

toge:

nobara: works out either way

sukuna: do you prefer gendered terms?

yuuji: i guess so

sukuna: fuck you

yuuji: where was the gendered term?

sukuna: in your mom

yuuji:

yuuji: my mom got dicked down by your twin which you ate in the womb

sukuna:

satoru: goodness me, it’s the perfect day for our hiking trip! bless mother nature

megumi, out of breath: mother nature is a WHORE

yuuji: what’s up guys? i’m back

megumi: what the- you can’t be here. you’re dead. i literally saw you die

sukuna: death is a social construct

satoru: died and came back as a cowboy, i call that reintarnation

nobara: wow, i don’t even get the joke but it sounds funny

megumi: that’s nOT. THE. FUCKING. POINT.

nobara: what the fuck yuuji, what are you doing here!?

yuuji: i missed you guys!

megumi: you just survived a car crash

nobara: the doctors said you have internal bleeding

yuuji: yeah, and? isn’t that where blood’s supposed to be?

megumi: i need to sit down…

these two are how yuuji's comeback should've went...

shoko: yeah, i'll smoke a joint tonight, but let's not get too crazy

*4 hours forward to shoko, suguru and satoru getting arrested for blocking the main road in large traffic cone costumes*

nobara: the only thing i'm guilty of is being gorgeous… and also assault with a hammer

satoru, on the night of the war delcaration: suguru, i’m sorry. i can’t keep seeing you anymore

suguru: no shit, you’re always wearing that blindfold

satoru: suguru… no…

nanami: gojo, we have a problem

satoru: what, the fire?

nanami: no, the- wait, what fire?

satoru: oh forget about it, this sounds more interesting

shoko: that was a joke. say ha

nanami: ha

shoko: now do it again

nanami: ha

shoko: congratulations, you are officially the life of the party

satoru: i would let you ruin my life

suguru: sorry, i’m busy ruining my own. you’ll have to wait

satoru, turning to suguru: my dick stopped breathing. it’s in desperate need of cpr

suguru: you’re in desperate need of a beating

shoko: or a lobotomy

suguru: both

shoko: if the beating is hard enough, it’ll count as a lobotomy

satoru: i always knew you guys were homophobic

satoru: none of those words are in the bible

shoko: psalm 119:105. “and jesus said unto his followers, should a manlet incel attempt to mansplain the blockchain to a girlboss, may she waste his time and yassify his blorbos”

suguru: he did not fucking say that

megumi: i taught my dog a new trick *throws ball* fetch!

dog: *just stands there*

noabara: he didn’t do it

megumi: that's because i taught him to ignore social conventions and think for himself

suguru: i’d kill someone if you asked me to

satoru: i’m pretty sure you’d kill someone even if i didn’t ask you to

megumi: if bees can be fish and boys can be girls, then why did my dad sell me to the zen'in clan?

nobara: i thought i was going to have to yell at you, but now i think i should hug you

sukuna, on yuuji's cheek: the real secret to immortality? not dying. you want to be immortal? okay, that’s easy. just don’t die. that’s it. refuse to die. there you go.

yuuji: but how-

sukuna, ignoring him: “but how” you may ask. well, easy. just don’t do it. refuse to. say “no, fuck you”

nobara: i'm not creepy

nobara: i'm petty

nobara: there's a difference, ya know

waiter: what would you like?

yuuji: a milkshake with two straws

megumi: *blushes*

yuuji: *puts both straws in his mouth* watch how fast i can drink this!

haibara: ieri-san, is that my mug you’re drinking out of?

shoko: no, it’s mine

haibara: it… looks just like the one i have…

shoko: you don’t have one like this anymore

megumi: i'm a witch. i mixed some herbs and crystals together and now all my shikigami know the f-word

nobara: which one?

megumi: what do you mean?

nobara: there's more than one f-word

yuuji, entring the room: you talkin' 'bout faggots?

megumi: why would we talk about cigarettes?

sukuna: i'll offer you some friendly advice-

yuuji: i don't want your advice

sukuna: well, then consider it unfriendly advice

jjk manga ends in 30 days which means i'm gonna nap on the highway after that last chapter drops :muscle:

#jjk #jujutsu kaisen #shveris’ blue spring #blue spring hcs #jjk incorrect quotes #jujutsu kaisen incorrect quotes #gojo satoru #geto suguru #itadori yuuji #shoko ieiri #ryomen sukuna #nanami kento #haibara yu #fushiguro megumi #kugisaki nobara #zenin maki #inumaki toge #jjk panda #satosugu

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lukascastelan · 5 months ago

Text

Ok, so this is the wall, in my bedroom which consists of many many fandoms or just topics I have grown to enjoy over time. A couple are outdated considering now, but they were pretty special to me when painting it. The wall was finished in 2023 on June 15.

Many were made by printing the logos/designs on my printer, tracing the backs really hard in a pencil, and then firmly pressing each design onto the wall so I had a stencil of what I was coloring in. Many are just designs I found on the internet at the time and others are just logos or things I thought would be a good symbol for said fixation at the time.

Did I want it to look different at the beginning? Yes, originally it was going to be the symbols or main characters in one big collage but I realized that I have zero art skills and it wouldn't ever be accomplished so I made the design more simple and now I really like how it turned out.

Do I wish a few were different now because of time or lack of interest? Yes and no. Yes, because I either don't like a certain topic at all anymore or I just could have something that I think represents me more on there but for right now I'm okay with how it is. No, because I look at this wall every day of my life, and seeing a certain square can remind me of a specific time in my life that I really enjoyed and I love that feeling.

Do I think that some of the squares are a little cringe now over time and how I have changed as a person? Absolutely but I could never ever get myself to get rid of those ones because they might be looked upon as weird or cringe now but at the time they helped me get through so many tough times that I can't get myself to get rid of those.

A few of these squares will definitely be changed but at least 97% of them I love seeing every day because of the memories and good times. I love my wall and it represents what I've liked over the years and that's okay. You should be able to like what you want without being criticized for it, hell I've debated posting this because I was scared that people were going laugh at the things on there but to be honest? Let me laugh with you as I remember how that square I cringe on now or how that square I would defend with my life. Just be you, that's all.

What are the fixations that are on the wall, and do I still want them there? I'll tell ya starting from the top right corner.

863 - Youtube series (Keep)

Five Nights at Freddy's - Video game series (Keep)

Amphibia - Animated TV show (Keep)

Amulet - Graphic novel sereis (Keep)

Arcane - Animated TV show (Keep)

Bendy and The Ink Machine - Video game series (Keep)

Brooklyn 99 - TV show (Keep)

Carmen Sandiego - Animated TV show (Keep)

Chuckle Sandwich - Podcast (Keep)

Cuphead - Video Game (Keep)

DanTDM - Youtuber (Keep)

Compass South - Graphic Novel series (Keep)

Detroit Become Human - Video Game (Keep)

The Last of Us - Video Game series/TV show (Keep)

The Dragon Prince - Animated TV show (Keep)

Mandela Catalogs - Analog Horror series (Keep)

DreamSMP - Youtube/ Minecraft server (Depends, I always look back now and cringe at myself but then I remember how it was at the time and how it felt to me at the time. Probably keep though just because of how it got me through Covid and just a rough spot in general)

Droid - Youtuber (Keep)

Eddsworld - Youtube series (Keep)

Flash - I watched the TV show (Keep)

Harry Potter - Books/Movies (I honestly like Fantastic Beats movie spinoff more than the main books/movies. Idk why but this one might change over time or it'll stay, haven't really decided that yet, maybe)

Henry Danger - TV show (Keep)

Hilda - Animated TV show (Keep)

How to Train Your Dragon - Movies/Books/TV Show (Keep)

Infinity Train - Animated TV show (Keep)

Jurrasic Park - Movies/Books (Keep)

The Group Chat - Youtube group/Podcast (Keep)

Last Kids on Earth - Books/TV show (Keep)

Lucifer - TV show (Most likely change)

Marvel (Keep)

Merlin - TV show (Keep)

Minecraft - Video Game (Keep)

Star Wars - Movies/TV shows/books/etc. (Keep)

Ninjago - Animated TV show (Keep)

The Owl House - Animated TV Show (Keep)

Percy Jackson - Books/TV show/Movies (Keep)

Pokemon - Video game series, etc. (I really don't know why I put this on here, I was never a really big fan other than owning the cards so will probably change)

Sam and Colby - Youtubers (Keep)

The Walten Files - Analog Horror series (Keep)

Space Boy - Webtoon but I found it through the graphic novels (Keep)

Spongebob - Animated TV show (Keep)

Steven Universe - Animated TV show (Keep)

Stranger Things - TV show (Keep)

Subnautica - Video Game series (Keep)

Treasure Planet - Animated Movie (Keep)

Umbrella Acadamy - TV Show (Keep)

Voltron - Animated TV Show (Probably change because I never really got into it but binged it with my sister, liked it but not love)

Wings of Fire - Books/Graphic Novels (Keep)

Things I would want on the wall now

Transformers

Multiple Analog Horror series

Portal games (Though I painted my closet doors portal themed so I think it cancels out)

maybe some music albums but I have something like that in my room already

The Magnus Protocol

ONG might put Ao3 on there tbh

Some absolute BANGER webtoons

Some more recent YouTube series, animated of course

Over the garden wall was literally a fever dream but I loved it

OH lab rats and Mightty med I grew UP on those

Gravity Falls

More that I can't think of rn

Okay wow um I don't usually post this big but I really like my wall and just wanted to share it. Maybe I'll post some more stuff about my room that I like just because I'm proud of it.

Part 1(This one), Part 2

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immeasurablesaladagere · 4 months ago

Note

Can we get a fic about Wilson&House finding out Chase regresses please 🙏🙏🙏

Fun fact! I already had a prompt similar to this sitting in my notes app before I ever made this blog, so I decided to work on that! It just includes cg!House, I hope that's alright. House would have a very... ahem, interesting first-time-cg style.

-----

Word Count: 1230

Summery: House can tell that something is up with Chase on an overnight shift.

-----

Something was wrong with Chase.

House stared at him through the glass of his office, watching him go back and fourth between flipping through the patient’s files and a newspaper crossword. At least, that was what he was pretending to do. Chase’s eyes were obviously unfocused and staring directly through the papers, and it looked more like he was moving them around on autopilot to seem busy in front of his boss who he knew would be spying on him through the window. A smart move to be sure, but ultimately a pointless one.

Chase picked up his pen and hovered it over the newspaper like he was going to write in an answer, then stopped and put the end of the pen in his mouthfor the dozenth time.

House wrinkled his nose in disgust. He was never using that pen again. It was definitely covered in bite marks and saliva, and while there was probably a large clientele who would pay too much for pretty-boy’s spit, he wasn’t one of them. If it wasn’t the pen, then it was biting the top half of his thumb or pointer finger, before he would get a look on his face and switch back to the pen or the cuff of his coat sleeve.

Then there was the fidgeting. For the most part, Chase matched the expected appearance of a man who had been awake for twenty-four hours on an overnight patient watch; sunken eyes, painfully-bored expression, slumped posture, and a general air of ‘I’d rather be having steamy sex with a hooker right now’— or maybe that was just him— but Chase was fidgeting almost constantly. It consisted mostly of swinging his feet back and fourth under the glass table or mindlessly shaking his free hand up and down. When he was particularly lost in thought, he would begin rocking in place to entertain himself.

It was when the thought crossed House’s mind that Chase looked more like a little kid waiting for their parent to finish up at the DMV than a doctor trying to stay awake that he began to think that Chase was more than just tired.

Age regression was a zebra, but Cuddy hadn’t given him his own team and office because he was an expert at finding horses.

He watched as Chase yawned and rubbed his eyes, then rested his head on his hand and slipped his entire thumb in his mouth. If it wasn’t regression, then House got an embarrassing habit to hold over his head for the rest of time.

It was probably best to test his hypothesis before they were called to deal with the patient and Chase’s toddler brain accidentally killed her. He turned to his laptop and typed ‘colouring pages’ into Google, then printed the first result; an ocean floor scene with corny cartoon dolphins and fish.

At the sound of the printer starting in the office, Chase seemed to snap back into some kind of focus and pulled his thumb from his mouth, hastily tucking it against his cheek.

When House walked in, Chase pushed away his file and cleared his throat. “Did you find something for the patient? I can’t think of anything.”

“Forget the patient, I have a much more important question.” He set down the colouring page in front of Chase, “How do you feel… about sea creatures?”

He watched as Chase’s eyes went wide for a split second before he schooled his face into confusion. “What’s this?”

“Sea creatures.” He tapped the cartoon dolphin’s face, “See?”

“Yeah, uh… Why?”

“You tell me. Why would I, as your boss, distract you from a case with a children’s colouring page?”

Chase shrugged, looking anywhere but directly at the picture. “I ‘dunno…”

“Sure you do.” House nudged at the pen on the table. The plastic end was completely mangled by teeth marks, and it left behind a small trail of spit as it rolled. “And the sleeve, and the thumb, and the fidgeting like a four-year-old.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, House—“

“Tell me the truth, or you’re fired.”

Chase looked up at him in disbelief. “W-What?”

“You’re showing signs of an altered mental state. What if you were drunk? Or on drugs?” House wondered aloud, “The hospital wouldn’t take kindly to that, and what would that say about me? I can’t have a drugged-out doctor on my team—“

“I’m not on drugs! Or drinking!”

“Then what?“

“It’s age regression, okay?” Chase blurted, “It’s this thing I do, I-I was thinking like a kid and it’s not like— why am I explaining it? You already knew, I’m just— I was tired and we weren’t getting anywhere with the case, s-so…”

House smirked with vindication. “So you figured it was fine if your adult brain took a vacation for a few hours, right? The patient’s not important, I get it.”

Chase buried his face in his hands. The tips of his ears were bright red with shame. “Please don’t fire me. I swear, it was a one-time thing, I’m not— I can control it, I—“

He hummed and tapped his fingers against his cane in dramatic thought. “I don’t know… I’m pretty sure you need to be at least eighteen to be a doctor, and you’re, what? Five? Cuddy wouldn’t appreciate the liability, and I don’t know if I can trust you to be a big boy if you can’t handle a—.”

Chase sniffled. Ah, crap.

“M’sorry,” He mumbled and stood up quickly to leave, but House grabbed him by the arm before he could run away and lightly pushed him back down into the chair.

“Sit down, relax.” He wanted to mess with the kid, not make him cry. “I’m not going to fire you.”

Chase looked up at him, eyes round and wet like a sad puppy. House grimaced. “But you said…”

“It was a joke. I was just messing with you.” He didn’t look convinced. On one hand, House was happy that his theory was correct. On the other, now he was stuck babysitting his employee who he’d inadvertently worked up into a panic. Why couldn’t kids ever understand sarcasm?

“Oh…” Chase shrunk in on himself and fiddled with the end of his tie. “…Sorry.”

“It’s fine, kid.” He sighed. “How young am I dealing with here?” If he was babysitting, he at least wanted to know what he was getting into.

Chase stared at him owlishly like he was afraid to answer, and his face flushed pink as he answered, “Six..?”

“So I was close! Look at me go. Listen, we’re going to talk about this later, but you’re not fired, got it?”

“Mhm.”

“Oh, and you’re off the case until you’re an adult again. If you get paged, I’ll go. I was serious about the liability, Cuddy’ll be up my ass if I let a toddler perform CPR.”

Chase frowned indignantly. “That’s not a nice word. An’ I’m not a toddler.”

Oh good, the language police. “You’re close enough.” He turned to grab the cup of pens on a nearby counter and set it down next to the colouring page. “Here. Not much for colours, but it’ll do.”

Chase looked between him and the pens a few times before hesitantly picking up a red one and beginning to fill in the crab.

“Oh, and no eating them. Those are my good pens.”

#sfw age regression #sfw agere #agere blog #age regression #fandom agere #house md agere #house md #fanfic #gregory house #robert chase

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horny4hetfield · 4 months ago

Text

Getting Business Done

On man! I can see how this can become addictive!!! I hope y’all like this one!!!

Warnings: Smut, Unprotected sex, slight degrading and confrontation, NSFW

You are very happy in your job. You’d been there for several years. Your boss, James, is a good looking – hell – handsome man. Standing 6’1” with silvered short cut hair, horseshoe mustache, heavily tattooed, he could be an imposing figure. Until he smiled. It was always bright and his bluer than blue eyes would sparkle. Both of you had been through some tough times. His divorce. Your long term relationship ending. Having to move the company office due to water damage.

Then came the contract that on the surface looked to be a dream deal. You, James and his business partner Chad, have spent numerous late nights in the conference room going over every word in the contract. Finally, the day the customer was to come into the office to sign the deal arrived. James had promised everyone that should this deal get signed, he was taking everyone out to dinner. Studying your closet, you select the lacey purple dress. Since it was July, the short skirt would be acceptable. Somewhere in the back of your mind, you hope that James likes it too. Quickly collecting your work things you hurry to get to the office. You end up parking your car next to the huge black tuck that belongs to James. You collect your things, get out of the car, lock it and get to your desk just inside the front door. Your computer is just finishing powering up when you hear James walk up behind you.

“Hey, do you think this paragraph is really correct?” he sets down the stack of papers on your desk, pointing to the words in question, his other large hand resting gently between your exposed shoulder blades. You really have to concentrate on the words and not the feeling of his hand on your back. Pulling up the document on your computer you get to the paragraph in question. You do a quick read through and make some edits.

“Does this work better?”

James flips the papers over grabs a pen and scribbles some changes. You quickly make them. He leans over you again to read the paragraph. His cologne is just enough to be alluring. Looking sideways at him, his lips curl up into a radiant smile.

“That’s it!”

Hitting the print icon, “It’s on the printer!”

He pats your back and leaves your desk area “I’ll go get it!”

You watch James go down the hallway. You can’t help yourself. He’s wearing the black jeans that just fit his ass perfectly. The cowboy boots are perfect. A white button down shirt with the rolled up sleeves exposing his tattooed forearms. Your heart flutters.

The front door flies open and in walks the customer.

“Mr. Mancini, welcome to ….”

Mr Mancini almost throws his phone at you. “You need to fix my travel!” You take a step back as his face is filled with rage. “I hate that airline! And where is my coffee! I told you to have my coffee waiting!”

You start out calmly, “Mr Mancini, I didn’t do your travel, but I will see what I can do …”

“You will fix it! And get my coffee now!” He’s yelling at you full volume. In all your years of working, no one has yelled in a rage at you. “I said now!” Mr Mancini manages to land a backhanded swipe across your left check.

It sends you stumbling into the short file cabinet behind your desk where you collapse to the ground. Your head reeling. From down the hallway you hear Chad yelling and a roar that can only come from James. Chad is pushing the customer back. James leaps the countertop of your desk to plant one foot on either side of you, hugging you with his lower legs.

“Chad if you want this contract, it’s yours. But I want nothing to do with that man.” The tone in James’ voice is one you’ve never heard him use before. Low. Growl. Dangerous. Leaning down, James tenderly puts his hands on your shoulders making you jump slightly. “Hey” His voice now a gentle rumble next to your ear. “Can you stand up for me?” You are shaking to your core and can’t move. Gently lifting you, James collects you into his arms and bulldozes his way out the front door, leaving the shouting voices behind.

Taking you to his truck, he balances you on his knee while he opens the passenger door. He hoists you into the passenger seat and secures the seatbelt. Making sure that you are completely inside, he closes your door. Moments later he’s in the driver’s seat and the truck roars to life.

You are totally numb. He tenderly grasps your left wrist, “Hey” his voice a gentle rumble, “stay with me.”

Your eyes lock onto his tattooed hand. The warmth of his fingers are slowly warming your cold arm. “What did I do wrong?” comes out in a squeak.

His fingers gently squeeze, “Nothing. You did absolutely nothing wrong.”

The tears start to fall. You can’t stop them. You’re afraid to move. Moving would let the dam break.

His voice a comfort, “I’m taking you to my place. You don’t need to be alone right now.” The truck makes a right turn, “Don’t worry. I got you.” It seems like moments later the truck pulls into his driveway. He jumps out and pops open your door. Undoing your seat belt, James scoops you out of the big vehicle, kicks that door closed and carries you inside. He kicks off his boots just inside the garage door.

You barely notice where you are. You are only acutely aware of being in James’ arms. The warmth he radiates. The rumble of his voice. The hints of clean cotton shirt, his cologne and cigar from his neck as you rest your head on his shoulder.

He sinks into the sofa, which puts you squarely in his lap. He gingerly brushes a stray bit of hair from your face. “You are safe now.” That simple declaration opens the flood gates. Your sobs are uncontrollable. James just wraps you up in his arms securely. “Let it out.” He tenderly tucks you closer to him, “It’s ok” he coos into your hair. He gently strokes your hair. Your sobs slowly ease to hiccupping, then to sniffles. The shoulder of his shirt now soaking wet.

James, holding you even tighter to his chest, leans over to the sofa table, collects the tissue box, sits back and hands you several. Turning your head away, you blow your nose. He gently wipes away the tear streaks down your cheeks with his thumbs. His fingers gently lift your chin, “Let me see.” His blue eyes filled with concern. You let him turn your head. His fingers gently touch your cheek. Your face still being tender from being slapped, you flinch slightly. He cups your head in both his hands and pulls you closer, “No bruise.” His lips press tenderly to your forehead.

You pull back, blinking slowly, looking into his big blue eyes seeing the concern shift to – well – something more. The denied tension inside you bubbles up flushing all other feelings away. You take a shuddering shallow breath as he leans in closer, his eyes locked on yours. You meet his lips.

A silent explosion happens between the two of you. You both feed from the other. His hand cups your head and his other arm wraps around you holding you close to his chest. Your arms wrap around his shoulders and neck. You are both panting when the kiss slowly breaks.

Almost in a whisper, “HR isn’t going to like this.”

A smirk spreads across his face, “I can fix that.” He kisses you again, “You’re fired.” A longer kiss.

“Ok.” You relax into his arms.

He shifts you off his lap forcing your legs to pop up. “Where are my shoes?”

His eyebrows scrunch up, “Maybe in the truck.” He gently shifts your legs so he can stand. Holding out his hands to you, you stand. James gently pulls you toward him. His fingers softly caress your arms, up over your shoulders, down your back – slowly unzipping your dress at the same time. A shiver runs through your body. You rest your hands on his waist. At the end of the zipper, James fingers start working up your back, slowly pulling your dress open. He pauses for just a moment when he expertly unhooks your bra. His fingers pull both clothing articles off your shoulders. They puddle around your bare feet. Leaving you standing in front of this imposing man naked – save for the lacey purple thong. Locking your eyes to his, you hook your thumbs into the waistband.

James’ hands quickly covers your, “I’ll get to that” his lips silence yours “In a moment.”

Your hands ghost up James arms. His large hands rest on your naked waist. Your fingers trace their way to the buttons on James’ shirt. You undo the top button. James’ fingers are making lazy circles on your hips. The second button is undone. You pull the fabric open and kiss the bit of his chest newly exposed. He inhales sharply. Another button undone. Another kiss to his chest. Another hitched breath. Reaching behind him, you untuck his shirt from his jeans. James grabs his shirt and yanks it open, the remaining buttons pop off in all directions. You run your hands up his body to his shoulders pushing the ruined fabric from his body where it joins your dress on the ground.

You take a half step back, but James’ arms pull you back into his body. His lips crash into yours. Your arms wrap around his now bare back. Your palms plant on his skin pulling him closer to you. You can feel his erection pressing against his jeans. His chest hairs gently rub against your very erect nipples. Your loins flutter in response as a whimper escapes you.

Not breaking the kiss, James lifts you and carries you from the living room to his bedroom. Kneeling up onto the bed, he lays you out under him. His lips not breaking from yours.

Finally pulling away from your mouth, James kneels up. His eyes drinking in your body. His hands exploring your curves. “You are beautiful” he breathes.

Reaching up, you undo his belt buckle and pull the leather from his pants and toss it aside. The belt buckle clatters on the tile flooring. James reaches to undo his jeans, but you gently push his hands away. Smiling down at you, James lets you have your way.

Running your hands down his hips to his thighs, you feel his body respond to your hands. James sighs deeply. Slowly your hands move to the front of James’ thighs just above his knees and slowly up. Your fingers find his erection held in check by the fabric of his jeans. Firm. Strong. Throbbing. You palm slowly up his cock. James sucks in a sharp breath.

Pushing your arms to the side, he leans over you. Planting his hands on either side of your body, kissing you. He slowly lowers his body over yours. You whimper. “Just wait” he smiles at you. “You can have that soon enough.” His kisses slowly move down your neck to your chest. “You first” he whispers into your ear. You whimper as your pinned hips try to buck up into his. He moves slowly down your body. Kissing. Nibbling. Sucking. Licking. Making you moan and whimper as he leaves his love marks on your flesh.

He positions himself on his stomach between your legs. His eyes lock on yours, his grin deliciously evil. You wiggle your hips silently begging. Resting on his elbows, his hands cup your butt and lift your hips to his mouth. His gaze shifts from your eyes to look hungarily at your sopping wet thong. He inhales deeply about half an inch from you making you whimper in anticipation.

Flipping your legs over his shoulders frees his hands. He pulls his knife from his back pocket. Your eyes open wider at the blade when he snaps it open.

“I have wondered if the carpet matches the drapes” he chuckles. The sharp blade slices the waistband easily of your thong. James closes the blade and tosses the blade in the general direction his belt went. Your hands fly to cover your crotch as James literally sucks the fabric from your body. He groans in ectasy as he savors your essence from the fabric. He spits the destroyed garment to the side. Opening his eyes, he sees your hands covering your privates. He looks curiously up at you. Seeing the twinkle in your eyes, he smiles and kisses your knuckles, “Please?"”

Grinning and wiggling a little, “What do you think?” biting your lower lip at him.

Gently licking your knuckles, “They match” he chuckles.

Smiling, you move your hands, “Ta dah!”

His eyes open wide, “Ahhh! Bare floors!” Kissing your pubic bone, “Why?” His fingers squeeze your ass cheeks.

Letting your fingers caress his face, “Personal preference. I just don’t like hair … there.”

James sends his tongue in a long slow lick from your taint to your clit making your hips thrust up into his face, pulling a long groan from you. Licking his lips, his blues eyes catch yours, “Yeah. Hair would just get in the way.” He lowers his mouth back down and his tongue starts exploring your sex. His licks, swirls, suckings and tender nibbles render you unable to form a coherent word.

As the tension in you builds, he lowers your hips to the bed, wrapping his arms under your legs up over your thighs so that his hands grasp your hips, locking you in place. The sudden inability to move intensifies the sensations that James is doing to your nether regions. A few expert licks from James’ tongue sends you over the edge. Your body tries to buck against the restraint James’ hands have your body. Your vision blurs and the moan becomes a scream of release. His tongue keeps working your clit, overstimulating you to the point where you can longer move. Panting. Barely able to move. Vision blurred. You are only aware of his mouth on your cunt.

James slowly pulls away from your overstimulated clit. He presses feather soft kisses on your inner thighs. Slowly he releases his hold on your hips. You are weak from release. James slowly works his way up your body leaving a blazing trail of kisses, licks, nibbles and hickies on your flesh. It feels like he is reviving your body with the intensity of his lips.

Your eyes flutter open to find his bright blue eyes directly in front of you. Your arms don’t want to respond, so you crunch up and lock your lips to his. James kisses you back with a passion that reaches deep into you – to your very soul. His eyes fill with everything his kiss gives to you. Passion. Desire. Wants. Needs. Lust. You two feed off that kiss.

Recovering, you realize that he has shed his jeans. His naked body is pressed against yours. His erection is twitching at your dripping opening. Your fingers find his face, tracing his eyebrows, down his nose, his mustache. His lips kiss your fingertips, gently sucking on the pads of your fingers. Reaching between your bodies he teases your clit with dripping end of his cock leaving you moaning and wiggling under his torturous teasings. The only words you can barely utter “James, please.”

James grins at you and slowly pushes the head into your soaked pussy. The size slowly filling you makes you suck in a deep breath, your eyes flaring wide.

“Shh, shh” James coos at you as he pauses. “Breath” he whispers.

It takes you a few moments to adjust to the feeling of him stretching deep inside you. Once the discomfort dissipates, you rock your hips up and hook a leg around his waist, your heel digging into his ass forcing him still deeper into you. This action makes you both inhale deeply.

James plants both his hands above your shoulders. His knees nudge up tight against your hips, forcing him still deeper into you. He lowers his face down to the crook of your neck, his panting breath warm on your flesh. You can tell he’s holding back. Waiting on you. Wrapping your arms around him, you turn your face to his ear right by your lips. Kissing his ear, you whisper, “yes.”

James’ groan reverberates through your body as he slowly starts moving his hips. His shaft gets impossibly thicker, stretching and filling you as never before. At first, James’ movements are slow. You can feel every vein in his cock, the shape of the head as he slowly moves in and out of your tight hole. His voice growls in your ear “You are so tight.” He grunts as his cock drives slowly into you “So wet.”

Your fingers dig into his back, clutching his neck. You tighten your leg around his waist “All for you” as he dives deeper. He growls louder and sinks his teeth into your shoulder.

Arching your back, you cry out in both ectasy and pain. You use all your strength to hold his head close to your neck. Jame’s teeth tighten on your shoulder. He keeps a steady rhythm pounding his hips against yours. The pressure building in you. The room is filled with the sounds of wet flesh slapping wet flesh as he pounds away in you. The obscene sound of his cock sliding in and out of your pussy. Both of you are reduced to primal grunts and groans. You rake your nails down his back. Letting go of your shoulder, he lifts his head roaring, his hips slamming even harder into you. You reach down and claw his ass. He cries out again. His thrusts slamming you into his arms above your shoulders, holding you for his pounding pleasure.

The orgasms crash into you both at the same time. The gummy walls of your cunt squeeze his cock intensely as his cum fills you. James manages a few jagged thrusts before calming and slowly lowering his weight on to your body. His softening cock slides from within you. You can feel the warm mix of your climaxes seeping out.

His hands caress you. Starting with your hair. Slowly touching your face. His fingers gently closing your eyelids. “Just feel” he whispers into your ear. His fingers glide gently over your neck, over your shoulder. As they move over your bicep, sleep grabs hold and pulls you under.

A gentle rumble in your ribs pulls you back to wakefulness. Your left arm is over your head, your right hand is draped over James left arm – which is wrapped around your ribs. He is sound asleep, his face burrowed into your left side. The top of his head pressed into your armpit – keeping you from lowering that arm. His left leg is up over your hips. Your legs dangle over his right thigh.

You have not felt this way – safe – in ages. You softly trace the intricate tattoos on James’ left forearm. He snorfels into your ribs which tickles and makes you giggle. He tightens his hold on your ribs and blows mouth farts on your side. You squeal in laughter. He blows another. “Stop! I gotta pee!” you cry out in laughter.

Rising up on his elbow, a smile spreads across his face to his eyes. James leans over you planting a kiss on you. He releases his hold on you, “Bathroom is that way” he points.

Slipping off the bed you make your way to the door indicated. Finding the toilet in it’s own little room, you sigh in relief. Washing your hands after, you quickly return to the bedroom.

James passes you “My turn” landing a backhand smack to your bare ass.

You stretch out on the bed. James returns and spoons up behind you, pulling you into his body. Kissing your neck, “Oh shit. I bruised you.” You can feel his fingers tracing out the spot on your neck.

“That will cover up ok.” You roll to your back within his arms. “At least you didn’t draw blood.”

Shaking his head, “Not my thing.”

Smiling, you pull his face closer and kiss him.

“Shouldn’t you be at work?” James grins at you.

Doing an exaggerated pout, “I got fired.”

James, trying to be serious, “I know a guy. I could put in a good word for you.”

A wicked smile grows on your face. “That’s sweet. But …” Leading with your hips, you manage to roll him to his back letting the momentum carry you up on top of him. “There’s a new position I thought I’d try for.” You grind your dampening crotch into his quickly growing erection.

“Oh! That’s interesting.”

Reaching between your bodies, you place his cockhead at your entrance, “I hear the interview is very penetrating” as you slowly sink down his length, stretching your depths.

James groans and pulls down on your hips, driving deeper into you. “Well, that’s a great opening” he manages. Using your Kegels, you grip his cock, squeezing and releasing. He groans again.

James thrusts his hips up, overbalancing you. Catching yourself on his shoulders – your left hand sliding off and landing by his neck. James cups the back of your head and kisses you as you keep your actions working his cock. Breaking the kiss, “That’s great multi-tasking abilities” he hisses.

Planting both your hands on his chest, you sit back up driving him deeper into your wetness.

Feeling his response, you speed up the rhythm. His eyes roll back as you can feel his cock twitch inside you. James reaches for your clit, but you grab his hands, “uh huh. This is all for you.” A few more strategic grinds and Kegels and he is undone. With grunts and groans he fills your insides, your gummy walls milking every drop out of him.

James’ hands caress up your sides gently urging you down to his side. He kisses your forehead, “You’re hired” he smirks. You kiss his face and neck. He lazily wraps his arms around you and heaves a sigh. There you two linger.

Then with a speed and agility you didn’t know he had, you are caught off guard as you find yourself on your stomach, he is behind you, his knees have knocked yours wide and you are impaled by his cock slamming back into your still dripping cunt. His large hands pulling you tight against his body.

You can feel his chest hairs grazing your back as he leans over you, “Now.” He slams into you again, “Let’s talk benefits.”

Only one word barely escapes your lips “ok!”

#james hetfield smut #james hetfield #metallica #metallica smut #metallica fanfiction #metallica x reader

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