#i still remember the person who was like UM HOW FUCKING DARE YOU ANSWERING ME IN PUBLIC

[slightly-gay-pogohammer]

guys i’ve been on this site for 10+ years i promise you that’s nothing lmao

[orcasoul]

Joel Miller Headcanons:

Joel's And Your First Time

Warnings: Smut (under 18's DNI), fluff.

Word Count: 1,703

Joel can't remember the last time he felt a connection this strongly with a woman. He finds himself lost in your enigmatic pull, noticing every little thing about you, from the way your nose scrunches when you giggle, how you become so passionate when talking about a subject close to your heart, the way you hold yourself with grace, your playful and witty personality and how your natural beauty radiates without even having to try.

Sometimes he can't fathom how someone like you could want someone like him, yet here you both are, seven months into your relationship. That word still sound so strange to Joel. In a brutal world of cordyceps and lawlessness he'd never even wanted a romantic relationship. For the longest time he was fine with no strings attached hookups, never daring to invest any emotion in a woman who could be torn away in the blink of an eye. It was better that way.

But then you waltzed into his life and pulled the rug from under his feet, sending his walls crashing to the ground. A few months of flirting, subtle gestures and stolen glances was all it took before the two of you confessed your mutual love for one another and you've both been inseparable ever since, even gaining the nickname 'The Lovebirds' by some of Jackson's residents.

Sitting on the setee, watching your eyes sparkle in the light of the fireplace as you tell Joel yet another story of your life 'Before', he realises how much he hangs on your every word, the sweet lilt of your voice is something he'll never be able to get enough of. Setting his whisky glass on your table, Joel turns back to you observing how you suddenly seem nervous. "You okay?'" Joel asks, his voice soft with concern. "Yeah... um... I'm good," you answer sheepishly, then put your glass next to his.

Before Joel knows what's happening, you're straddling his lap, kissing him deeply and sensually, your hands delicately gripping his hair, while his own find their way to your waist, pulling you tight against his body. Your sudden moan into his mouth electrifies Joel's entire body, arousal coursing it's way south. "Joel?..." his name leaves your lips in a breathless whisper, as you pull away slightly, noses still touching. "Mmhmm," Joel hums, lost in the haze of you. "I want you to make love to me." Oh, that cleared his foggy mind!

He pulls his head back, quickly, assessing your expression to see if it's what you really want, if maybe you'd just let it slip out without thinking, but all he can see is love and want written all over your face. "Are you sure?" he asks, just to be thorough, "I told you I don't mind waiting." Hell, he'd wait until the end of time if that's what it took just to be with you. He knows that to you, sex is a very emotional and intimate act, never being one for hookups and he respects the hell out of that. After all, everyone is different.

He let's out a deep groan as you rub your core over his very obvious hard-on. "I want you, Joel. I want all of you," you purr seductively into his ear, "I'm ready, take me to bed, baby." Joel chuckles at the little yelp you give as he grips both of your arse cheeks and effortlessly stands up, carrying you up the stairs with ease. He gently sets you down on the bed, lifting your chin to look ardently in to your eyes. "You really want this?" "I do," you smile up at him with the biggest heart eyes, "I want to feel the man I love inside me."

Joel wastes no time in pulling your top off, followed by your bra, all of your clothes, until you are fully naked before him and what a fucking sight you are! "So beautiful," Joel gushes as he takes in the sight of utter perfection. Moments later, his own clothes are a discarded pile on the floor and he watches as your roving eyes greedily drink him in, staring at his hardened shaft, while biting your bottom lip. You eagerly pull Joel on top of you as you lay back on the bed. Hands wander, seeking out bare flesh as you both fully explore each other's bodies for the first time.

Joel trails wet, languid kisses down you neck, feeling your pulse quicken under his tounge, until he reaches your breasts. He gently latches his mouth to your breast, swirling his tounge around your pebbled nipple. A grin spreads over his face as you arch your chest upwards, seeking more of his mouth. Joel releases your nipple with a 'pop' and a devilish smirk. "I'm gonna take good care of you, sweetheart," he croons while slowly moving his fingers to your soft folds. "So wet already," he marvels, "All this for me, huh?"

His fingers then find your clit and he starts to rub in circles, gradually building speed, resulting in a spectacle he'll never forget; Your head tipped back, mouth in the shape of an 'o', your chest heaving and the melody of your euphoric cry as he draws the first orgasm from your trembling body. He allows you to catch your breath for a minute, enjoying your blissed out appearance. "Think you can give me another one, sweetheart?" he asks in a sultry tone. "Mmhmm...," you nod, deliriously.

Joel's thick fingers slide down to your entrance, carefully parting your lips. Slowly and delicately, he pushes one finger into the warmth of your tunnel, followed by another, stroking your spongy spot until he can tell you're close. He kisses down your belly as your moans grow louder, finally settling on your clit. Between pumping his fingers in and out and licking and sucking your sensitive bundle, he has turned you into a writhing mess beneath him, griping his hair and bucking up into his mouth.

Every obscene moan, pant and wail coming from you is music to Joel's ears, causing him to smile against your sex. He's the one making you feel this good. With a shudder of your thighs and a scream of his name, your second orgasm crashes over you, coating him in your juices. Joel laps at your release like a man parched, the sweetest nectar to ever grace his tastebuds. "You still with me, darling?" Joel teases as he moves up your body to kiss you, giving you a taste of your own release. "Yeah... Joel, that was.. wow!" you pant as you begin to come back down from your high.

Joel's painfully hard cock presses into your hip, a testament to just how much he wants you. "Your turn," you smirk as you reach down, wrapping your soft hand around his girth, slowly pumping, while spreading a bead of pre cum over his glistening head. Joel knows he won't last much longer if you keep this up. Reaching down to lightly grab your hand, he stops your ministrations. "Darling, I'm not gonna last much longer like this and I want to feel your pussy around my cock, now," he groans. " Then take it," you purr, nipping his neck, "It's all yours."

Good god! He feels ready to blow his load from your words alone. Lining himself up at your entrance, Joel gazes into your eyes as he slowly sinks into your heat, causing both of you to gasp as he bottoms out. Your arms and legs wrap around his body, holding him in place, both of you remaining still to relish in this new intimacy. After a few moments you whine, "Fuck me, Joel!", your hand grabbing his arse cheek. He dosen't need to be told twice! Pulling out to the tip, he pushes himself back in, with just the right amount of force to begin with, thrusting harder and faster as your moans become louder and your nails dig into his shoulders. "oh, Joel! Right there, baby!"

He knows there'll be little crescent shapes over his back for a few days. He'll wear them as a badge of honour! "Fuck, sweetheart! So...ugh... tight,... ugh... so perfect!" He's getting close now, wishing it would never end; The velvety soft warmth enveloping his dick, squeezing and pulsing with every thrust is intoxicating, heightening all of his senses. The downright sinful sounds of wet skin slapping against wet skin, accompanied with your cry of his name may just be Joel's new favourite sounds.

Joel reaches between your bodies to circle your clit once again, determined to draw one last orgasm from you before he reaches his own climax. It only takes several seconds before you are clamping down on his cock, thighs gripping him like a vice, voice shuddering as you gush all over his pubic area. Chasing his own release, Joel asks, "where do you want me?" "On my... tits," you reply breathlessly. Another few thrusts and Joel quickly pulls out, painting your heaving chest in thick ropes of hot cum.

He flops down beside you as you both catch your breath. Pressing his forehead to yours and gently stroking your arm, Joel whispers, "You okay, darling? Wasn't too rough?" The blissfully fucked out look on your face alone tells Joel you're okay. "I'm great, baby. More than great!" Joel gazes adoringly at you while you cup his cheek in one hand. "That was everything I hoped it would be. How was it for you?" Joel smiles broadly, "Fucking amazing, sweet girl!" He presses a kiss to your forehead, then to your nose, then to your lips.

"Be right back," he says as he heads to the bathroom. Moments later he returns with a warm, wet towel and tenderly cleans you up. Laying back down beside you, he takes you in his arms, bringing your head to rest on his chest as you both bask in the afterglow of your actions. Joel can tell by your slow, even breathes that you've fallen alseep. He takes this moment to appreciate everything about you, his heart aching with how much love he holds for you. You are IT for him, The One, and you were absolutely worth waiting for.

[epickiya722]

No. For real, for a long time I feel like some of you just want to complain about something just to complain about something.

Like "everything must be perfect for me because I'm the most important person in the world"!

Question that I don't care for an answer for: um... where is all this energy to nitpick every single detail in a story?

Ooh, better yet, why? Why must you feel the need to nitpick? No, it's not criticism, it's nitpicking.

Now, some of you don't like the fact the third years are graduating?! Something that had to put off, by the way, because some people were on some tomfoolery.

"How dare these HIGH SCHOOLERS have a graduation ceremony!! People died!"

Yeah, no kidding, people died! Keep in mind though, keep in mind... are those third years and the other children responsible?

Or the generations before them and villains who wanted to do all those bad things???

And don't be like "but the villains have sad backst---" Ah! There are several villains who exist! Several!! Remember that jailbreak? Yeah. You know for a fucking fact that some of the villains wanted to be bad just to be bad. Someone go ahead and play advocate for Moonfish and Muscular.

Also, just because they're celebrating that they're graduating doesn't mean none of them felt sad about all about what happen!! There was a timeskip in between, so most likely there was that period of collective gloominess. Some are probably still feeling that bit of gloominess, just like Izuku.

Oh, wait, I forgot. The fandom apparently hates that. You know, Izuku feeling sad.

Again... what is it y'all not going to nitpick about?

[bucky-bucky-bucky-bucky]

Truth or Dare | Bucky Barnes x Reader

Hi, friends! This was a request from @breakablebarnes :)

Send me your requests, submissions, and/ or requests! 🥰

Tag list: @beefybuckrrito @shadytalementality @everything-burns-down @rainbow-unicorn-pony @mandersshow @breakablebarnes @glxwingrxse @psychoticmason @deepsketchsupernaturalcowboy @lonewolf471 @dreamerglassesgirl @thechill-no1 ���

Warnings: Bucky being a fucking dream, fingering and oral (f receiving)

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

The team sat scattered in a circle around the coffee table, exchanging secrets and partaking in rather questionable acts. No one remembered who had suggested truth or dare, but it didn't matter. No one on the team had laughed like this in a long, long time and you were thankful for a break from the usual doom and gloom. A few beers had been opened but no one was sloshed or even drunk, just a light buzz to keep the mood lifted.

"Alright- truth!" Bucky demanded, prompting annoyed groans from the group. Nat sighed about Bucky being lame and Sam clinked his beer against hers in agreement.

"Hey, woah. Isn't it called TRUTH or dare? It's the first word of the title- it's the titular choice!" Bucky argued. He shot you a wink, knowing how you loved when he was a smart ass.

He'd quickly become your closest friend in the compound and you favorite person to spend time with. He pressed his tongue to the opening of his beer before tiling it back and taking a long sip, and you practically had to drag your eyes away from his mouth. While you were practically drooling over Bucky, Nat had come up with a salacious question to ask the 100 year old super-soldier.

"Alright, Barnes. Truth: how many times have you ever come in one night? I know you must have some super soldier stamina..."

Once again, the room erupted into hoots and hollers as Bucky's cheeks took on a scarlet hue. Sure, he was a based ex-assassin, but he wasn't impervious to embarrassment. Moments like these reminded you that he was still human, which made him feel a little more accessible. A hush fell over the team as everyone waited for Bucky to answer, and you had to admit that you were a little too curious.

"Uh, I don't know...three?" Bucky stated with uncertainty. The reactions were a mixed bag, but it was mostly congratulations from the guys mixed with a disappointed groan from Nat.

"Okat, okay, wait- I have an idea. No more truth or dare!" she announced, "we all answer the question. I'm dying to know..."

More cheers echoed through the room as Nat pointed at Sam, telling him to go first. He opened his mouth, but got shut down by Tony, "and she means with a partner- your hand doesn't count". Sam's head fell back with laughter, as did everyone else's, and it took a moment before the game could continue.

Nat moved around the circle, getting everyone to admit to their most successful sexual escapades. As she got closer and closer to you, a knot formed in your stomach. Part of you wanted to excuse yourself, but that would be a dead give away. Another part of you wanted to lie, but if they asked for details, you were screwed. Bucky waited to baited breath to hear your answer, and secretly wondered if he could help you beat your record.

"Helloooo? Hey, it's your turn!" Tony called as he waved a hand in your direction.

His words pulled you out of your nervous shame spiral, and you felt an uncomfortable number of eyes on you. Bucky stared at you a little too intently, and had to force himself to take a sip of his drink.

"Soooo, how many times?" Nat prompted, getting everyone in the circle to fall quiet in anticipation for your answer. It was do or die, and you chose the latter.

"Um, none. Zero", you said.

The room was too quiet. No one knew what to say or how to react until Wanda threw her head back with a howling laugh. Maria, Tony, and Sam joined in, followed by Steve, Nat, and Bucky.

"Oh my god," Nat breathed, "You got us good. We thought you were serious! God, you're too funny. Okay, seriously though- how many times?"

Once again, the room fell silent and all eyes were on you. With a huff, you decided to lean in to your embarrassing truth and be completely honest. "I wasn't kidding. Zero. None," you stated flatly, "the most I've ever come in one night is zero." Maria opened her mouth but you cut her off before she could speak, "and no, I'm not a virgin."

Sam stared down at his drink and Wanda set her gaze at the window. Slowly, everyone averted their eyes from yours. Conveniently, the end of game night arrived very soon after your confession. With humiliation filling your chest, you raced up to your room and slammed the door. Flopping down on the bed, you let out a pitiful groan. Everyone else had had such deliciously dirty stories about their best hookups, and you were insanely jealous.

The buzzing of your phone grabbed your attention and you turned your attention to Bucky's name illuminating your screen.

"Hey, sweetheart, truth or dare? :)"

No part of you wanted to continue the game that had embarrassed you enough for ten lifetimes- but it was Bucky. If he asked you to lift Mjolnir, you'd find a way.

"Dare" was all you sent back. Seconds later, your phone buzzed again with the words "I dare you to come over". With a laugh, you hopped up from your bed and padded down the hall toward Bucky's room. He heard you coming and yanked the door open before you could even knock, motioning for you to come in.

"What's up, Barnes?' you asked as you plopped down on his bed. He stood before you with an uncertain expression clouding his eyes. No matter how many times he tried, he couldn't form the words he was looking for. He'd wanted to be gentle about his offer, but that wasn't going to happen.

"I was thinking... I could try" he finally blurted out. Confusion cocked your head to the side and Bucky let out a frustrated groan. "I mean, you said downstairs that you're not a virgin, but you've also never come, soooo I was thinking... I could try. There was clearly something wrong with every guy you slept with", he finished his proposal and stared at you expectantly. Before you could say anything, he quickly added, "only if you want. If you don't, I'll drop it and never bring it up again".

As badly as you wanted to get with Bucky, you were certain that he was wrong. "Buck, I don't- you're so sweet. You really are. But... I'm the problem" admitting it was embarrassing, especially to Bucky. "There's something wrong with me- I don't know what, but every guy I've been with has told me that. So, I really appreciate it, but... you don't have to".

Bucky almost looked offended when you told him about your past partners. He took a few slow steps toward you and took one of your hands gently in his.

"Doll, I guarantee you that you're not the problem. Too many guys just do what they think you'll like instead of actually listening." He crouched down in front of you and stared up at you with his deep blue eyes. They betrayed a look of sincerity and comfort that pulled you in to his gaze. "If you want, I'd love to prove to you that you're not the problem."

For a moment, all you could do was sit quietly. His offer was more than enticing, but after being told for so many years that there was something wrong with you, accepting it was hard. Finally, you realized how fucking stupid you'd be to say no to Bucky Barnes, and gave him a confident "I'm in".

Bucky couldn't contain himself when you finally said yes, but he kept it together, "If you ever wanna stop, just say the word. Okay?"

You gave him an affirmative nod, prompting him to lean in for a kiss. His lips were just as you'd imagined them, and you couldn't hold back the happy sigh that escaped your throat. Kissing Bucky had been on your bucket list since you first met him, and you were thrilled to be able to scratch it off.. Bucky swallowed your sigh as he deepened the kiss, bringing his large hands to either side of your face.

"Scoot back for me, will ya, sweets?" he asked as he broke the kiss.

He wanted to wrap his arms around your thighs and lift you from the bed so he could position you wherever he wanted, but he knew he had to start slow. Just like he asked, you moved back until your head rested on his pillow. He smiled at the sight as he crawled toward you, letting one of his knees rest in between your legs.

Nerves tied your stomach in knots, but there was no way you were gonna mess this up. Bucky's lips captured yours again, this time with more hunger and ferocity. He'd wanted you so badly, and being this close to you actually had him feeling drunk. He gently pushed his tongue into your mouth, which you gladly accepted, allowing him full access. A low moan fell from your lips and directly into his, making him want you even more. Hand hands found your waist and trailed upward slightly, playing with the hem of your t-shirt. He ghosted his cold fingertips inside the fabric, letting them run teasingly along your abdomen.

He left a slow trail of deep kisses from your lips to your jaw, humming in approval at the slight twitch in your hips. He continued his work, licking and kissing down your neck, stopping to suck at your pulse for a moment. He slid lower, tracing his lips over you clavicle until he reached the collar of your shirt. He tried to ask if he could take it off, but you were already nodding. He slid his hands carefully under the fabric, letting his mouth follow in their path. With your shirt finally off, he took a moment to stare down at you.

He'd seen you topless once on a mission, but you'd been in a blood soaked sports bra and in need of stitches, so he hadn't really enjoyed the experience. This moment, however, was perfect. He left kisses down your sternum and across the scar from that mission as his hands slid over your bralette. It was lacy and see-through, driving him completely crazy. Once again, you cut him off before he could even ask to remove it. He thanked god that it hooked in the front and made quick work of the clasp, helping you snake your arms through the straps.

When his mouth ghosted across your nipple, the moan that left your mouth was almost embarrassing. He smiled at your reaction and closed his lips around your sensitive nerve endings, flicking his tongue as you mewled beneath him.

"All good?" he asked, just to check in. When you gave him a very confident "yes", his cold hand rolled and pinched at your other nipple.

"Definitely- definitely good" you murmured.

Everything was fine- better than fine- until your body wouldn't let you finish. He'd run his mouth down the length of your abdomen, leaving kisses and light nips in his wake. When he let his lips brush lightly against your clit, the reaction he'd gotten made him salivate. Every time you let out a dirty moan, his hunger for you grew. His lips encircled your clit and sucked as his tongue flitted over it, making you chant his name like the filthiest prayer he'd ever heard.

As his fingers slipped inside you, your mouth opened in a silent scream. He stroked through your tight, velvety walls, long the way you clenched around his fingers. He teased you just a little before finally stroking over your sweet spot. You clenched his sheets into tight fists as the sensation became too much but not enough all at once. He was setting you on fire from the inside out-but you just couldn't get there.

He could sense your body tensing up and paused his work to look up at you. What he saw concerned him, and he climbed out from in between your legs completely. Your hands covered your face in shame as he pulled the blanket over you for comfort.

"How you doing, sweetheart?" he asked as he lightly stroked your hair.

With a shrug, you pulled your hands from your face- but still couldn't look at him "I'm good. Thanks, Buck. You're great. Here, let me-" you moved toward him, reaching your hand down to the button of his jeans, but he pulled away.

"Hey, we're not doing that tonight", he took your hand in his and kissed your palm, "This is about you. You don't have to make us even- or whatever. Come on, talk to me."

Propping yourself up on your elbows, you finally met his eye line. "I told you, I'm the problem. What you're doing is... it's great. It's perfect actually, but I still can't- I'm not there. I don't know why. I want to be, but..." you flopped down on your back and cringed at your own words, "I can't".

Bucky leaned over you and left a kiss on your forehead, stroking your hair again until you'd finally look at him again. "The problem is all those assholes who told you you’re the problem," he said matter-of-factly, "Let me guess: the first guy you got with had no idea what he was doing, so he told you that you not coming was your fault". You nodded slightly, prompting him to continue, "so, now every time you sleep with someone and they can't get you there, you assume it's because there's something wrong with you". Another nod from you made Bucky want to kill every guy you'd ever slept with.

"Sweetheart, you gotta relax," he told you, "There's nothing wrong with you, and you're not the problem. I don't know if this is weird, but I've gotta say, you've got the most perfect pussy I've ever seen". A dark hunger flickered behind his eyes at the words, and you felt your chest tighten. "If you're done for tonight, I totally get it. But if you're not, I know I can get you there".

Bucky reclaimed his spot between your legs at your approval and ate you out like a man starved. He hummed in approval against your clit, happy to be back in his favorite spot. It sent delicious vibrations through you making your breath catch in your throat. Once again, his fingers slid into you slowly. He began moving them in and out, clocking your reactions and letting unstoppable praises fall from his lips.

"See? So good for me, sweetheart. You're so good for me" he murmured as you began to see stars.

When he'd melted you into a moaning, quivering mess with his fingers, he added his mouth to the mix. His tongue traced circles over your throbbing, aching clit like it was his job as his fingers expertly worked over your g-spot. He stroked at it relentlessly, making your chest tighten with each touch.

Dirty moans and "fuckfuckfuck"s fell from your lips as you neared your high.

"That's it, baby, let go for me. Let go," he praised, and- it happened. Animalistic moans clawed their way out of your throat as you squirmed and writhed under Bucky's touch. He hummed happily and sent another jolt of pleasure through your body with a dark smile.

As you tried to bring your thighs together, he didn't move. "Come on, baby. I know you've got a few more for me," he murmured against your thighs, kissing at them and letting his teeth graze your skin.

The next morning, the team sat in the kitchen quietly drinking coffee and chatting over breakfast. Casually, you joined them at the table and began eating your cereal before making an announcement, "Oh, hey, by the way... nine. My number's nine".

[watchmegetobsessed]

Hey Daddy - Bucky Barnes

a/n: so this one is a little more... lighthearted? idk but it was based on THIS request!

pairing: Bucky X Reader

word count: 1.9k

summary: You join Peter and his friends for a game of Truth Or Dare but you wish you stayed in your room when MJ challenges you to do a task that will definitely out your secret relationship with Bucky.

masterlist

You totally forgot Peter would have his friends over for the night, so you’re slightly surprised when you find him with Ned and MJ in the kitchen, but it’s a pleasant one. You’ve been spending a lot of time with him, being the youngest of the adults in the tower, you developed a great friendship with the youngster and his friends.

“Oh, hello guys! Good to see you again!” you beam at the three of them, Ned greeting you with a little wave and a stunned smile on his face. Peter has recently revealed that Ned might have a tiny crush on you, which you find cute. Though you’re more than a decade older than him, you find it endearing he is crushing on you out of all the amazing women on the team.

MJ nods in your way as she munches on her sandwich, if you didn’t know her better you’d think she is annoyed by you judging by the look on her face, but you’ve learned by now that this is her default expression, almost a happy one.

“Hi Y/N!” Peter greets you smiling. “How was your day?” he asks lightly. He is such a good kid, knows his manners and cares so much for others. The men in the tower like to tease him about his soft behavior, but you think it’s such a great trait.

“A little tiring. Training kicked my ass today, but it was fine. What are you guys up to?” you ask, grabbing yourself a canned soda from the fridge.

“MJ wants to play truth or dare, but only because she wants to make us do embarrassing stuff,” Peter huffs looking at the girl who just smiles with a shrug.

“Oh, I love that game! Used to play it a lot at parties too!” you smirk, remembering the times you played with your friends in the basement of your mom’s house.

“You want to play with us?” MJ offers.

“If you don’t mind…”

“Not at all!” Peter smiles, happy to have another person join their little group. Glancing at Ned you see that he is now blushing, the tip of his ears turning red as he keeps his eyes fixed on the screen of his phone. Poor kid will have to learn how to function around women sooner or later.

The game starts out quite innocent, it’s not even the wild version where you’re drinking, though it popped into your head to pour yourself some wine. But then you decided to keep it PG rated for the kids’ sake.

But as more and more rounds go down, the tasks and questions are getting a little… spicy. When MJ turns to you and asks you the question of the game and you answer before you could even think about it, you know you are in trouble.

“Dare,” you answer and want to take it back right away, but you don’t want to look like such a pussy. But then MJ smirks at you devilishly and you consider just walking out before she ruins your whole life.

“Alright, text all the other Avengers ‘Hey Daddy’ and read the responses out loud.”

The boys gasp as you press your lips into a thin line, knowing well it won’t end good on your side. Especially because there is one person whose response you would rather not read out loud.

You’ve been close to Bucky since day one and though you both were a little ignorant towards your feelings, a few months ago you finally moved your relationship a little further than just being friends. However you both agreed it’s better kept as a secret, at least until you figure out where you really want to head together as a couple.

Now, if you text that message to Bucky there’s no way he won’t write back something that would bust your asses right away, but you can’t back out now, you can only hope he is busy doing something else and won’t pay attention to his phone.

Pulling your phone out of your pocket you lean onto the kitchen island as the kids start cheering for you being a badass and accepting the task.

“Just hey daddy, that’s all?” you ask as you open your contacts.

“Maybe add a winking face,” Ned suggests and you shoot him a glare that immediately turns his face red as he shuts his mouth.

“The winking face is a good idea,” MJ nods.

“Thanks, Ned,” you mumble under your breath as you start opening the text threads, sending them all the same message. Tony, Nat, Steve, Banner, Clint, Sam, Strange, even Rhodey and at the end of the list… Bucky.

“And what, now we wait?” Peter asks.

“Place the phone here so we see when you get a reply and you’ll read them, we can move on until then,” MJ tells you, bossing you around like you’re not even a highly trained special agent who could take her out in a blink of an eye.

The first reply comes from Nat who just asks if you’re drunk. Then comes Banner, who sounds offended that you think he could be your father, totally missing the point of the text. Tony teases you about always knowing you had a thing for him, Steve kindly tells you he only sees you as a sister, Clint just reads the text and doesn’t reply. Sam just sends a simple “control yourself” message back while Strange threatens you to block you if you send another text like this again. Rhodey doesn’t even reads it.

You start to feel relieved when about twenty minutes pass by and no reply comes from Bucky. The game moves on and you almost start to forget about the whole task when your phone lights up again and your breathing hitches when you see Bucky’s name appear on the screen.

“Oh, another reply!” MJ beams as she urges you to unlock the phone and read the reply. When you do so and see his text, you almost just hop off the stool and run out of the kitchen. You consider saying something else, pretending like he didn’t write what he did, but MJ doesn’t take the bullshit and her patience runs short so she simply snatches your phone out of your hand and reads the text herself.

“I specifically remember you saying you’re not into that stuff. What else are you keeping from me about our sex life?”

You let out a long and tired sigh as the room falls silent and they all just stare at you in confusion before MJ slowly slides the phone back to you.

“Our sex life? There’s… there’s a you and Bucky?” Peter asks quietly, not sure what to do with the new information. An anxious chuckle slips from between your lips as you try to find a way to get yourself out of this massive trouble, but nothing comes to your mind. You’ve fought aliens, assassins, you were captured, tortured, went on a hundred mission in your life, yet now three kids defeated you with a game of Truth or Dare.

“Well, um… It’s a funny story, you know—I don’t… fuck,” you mumble, scratching the back of your neck.

“Are you like… together or is it just a friends with benefits thing?” MJ question, shooting you a curious look.

You don’t get to answer, because just as you are about to open your mouth, the man in talk walks in, a puzzled look on his face, phone in his hand, probably still dwelling on your latest message. His eyes spot you first, but then he realizes that you’re not alone and he freezes. It’s not that Bucky doesn’t like Peter or his friends, he just feels so far away from people these days, let alone teenagers who are about a century younger than him.

“Oh,” he breathes out, slowly walking closer to you. “Hello guys,” he murmurs shyly, trying to put the picture together as his eyes fall back to you and he sees how uncomfortable you are. Before he could get another word out, MJ speaks up and just as always, her raw style doesn’t disappoint any of you.

“Don’t worry, your girlfriend is not really into the Daddy stuff.”

You almost choke on your own breath as you turn to shoot her a glare, your hand moving to grab Bucky’s arm gently, sensing him growing more and more anxious with each second.

“MJ, I don’t think Sergeant Barnes is the right person to joke around with,” Ned mumbles, avoiding to even look at Bucky as you let out an airy chuckle.

“G-Girlfriend? We are not—“ Bucky starts, but you cut him off.

“No use to deny, Buck. They know it.”

Bucky huffs, closing his eyes for a moment before he moves closer to you, his hand coming to rest on your lower back. Despite the absurdity of the situation, this small little gesture makes your heart pitter-patter in your chest.

“Is there any chance this could stay between us, kids?” you ask with a charming smile, turning to the three troublemakers.

“I don’t know, what do we get out of keeping it a secret?” Peter purses his lips, pretending to have the higher ground, but you already know what’s about to come.

Bucky’s vibranium arm snaps to the counter top as he shoots a death glare over to the poor kid and though he definitely looks like he is ready to kill any moment, you know that it’s all just an act.

“How about I don’t rip your guts out, kid? That enough?” Bucky growls and while all three of them take a step back with wide eyes and dry throats, you just shake your head chuckling, placing a hand to his hard chest.

“Buck, no need to go all winter soldier on them. They’ll keep our secret, right?” you ask with an innocent smile and all three of them start nodding wildly, as if they just saw a ghost.

Seeing their reaction you realize it’s better if the game ends here and you let them be on their own. You thank for the fun time before grabbing Bucky’s arm and pull him out of the kitchen, heading up to your rooms.

“You shouldn’t have scared them that badly, Buck,” you scold him, but you still actually find it kind of funny, seeing their pale faces and fearful eyes at your boyfriend’s tough guy act.

“Well, they scare me too sometimes,” he mumbles shrugging. “Especially that MJ girl… she is just… weird.”

You can’t help but laugh at his words, a six feet tall super soldier with a metal arm being scared of a teenage girl with a big mouth, that’s quite an interesting concept.

“Hey,” you stop him before the two of you would part in the hallway. He turns back and his blue eyes soften on you. “Do you want to… sneak into my room?” you ask, biting into your bottom lip as you smirk up at him, sliding a hand up his chest, cupping his cheek in your palm. “We could have some fun… Daddy.”

“Wait, are you really into the daddy stuff?” he asks with wide eyes, making you cackle with your head falling back.

“Just shut up and come to my room,” you chuckle, pressing your lips against his as you pull him into your bedroom, shutting the door closed behind you.

Thank you for reading, please like and reblog if you enjoyed it!

[dreamwritesimagines]

Burn The Witch 13 - Trouble [Bucky Barnes x Reader]

A.N: Thank you so much for your wonderful support and feedback my loves ! ❤ Here’s the next chapter, I hope you like it as well and please let me know what you think! ❤ Thank you! ❤❤❤

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Warnings: Enemies to lovers, fake dating, mentions of blood, sex, violence, death, manipulation, language, guns, knives.

Summary: Fights can be inevitable.

Series Masterlist

Oh God damn it.

This mission was not supposed to include anything from your real life, and it certainly was not supposed to include your real life ex-boyfriend.

Not only was this going to make things very, very complicated, it also put the entire operation in danger. No part of the background that was specifically created for your cover had any details on your ex relationships and you didn’t think you would have to come up with something now.

Well. For what it was worth, you weren’t the one who came up with it.

“Just joking man. I’m her ex-boyfriend but no worries, I pose no danger.”

Bucky didn’t even dignify that with an answer and you heaved a sigh, trying to control the anger bubbling in your stomach.

“Yeah,” you managed to say, “Yeah, we used to—um, we used to date.”

Bucky frowned, “Didn’t you say you moved here two months ago?”

“I did move here two months ago.”

“We used to date back in Oregon,” Julian explained and Bucky huhed.

“Yet here you are.”

“Yeah you know, the big apple,” Julian motioned around you, “I just got a job here and I figured I could come and see Y/N. Small town people have to look out for each other, you see.”

You gritted your teeth, watching him with narrowed eyes.

“She took you there yet?” Julian asked Bucky “Cannon Beach?”

“No,” you answered on his behalf and Julian clicked his tongue.

“I guess you could take him with you when you visit next month,” he said, “Surely you are visiting next month?”

“I don’t think I am.”

“Come on, no way.” he said, his voice filled with disbelief. “It’s sand castles contest time, you love that contest!”

Right.

Julian had always been the best at playing the civilian and memorizing the back story of any cover. He was great at lying and that was why every mission you had gone on with him was that easy, he could fool anyone.

Including you.

“She came in fourth place two years ago, she made this dragon castle, you should’ve seen it.” He told Bucky, and you rolled your eyes.

Fourth place.

Easy enough to make someone believe, hard enough to find a trace of on the internet.

Julian was an asshole for sure, but he was a great spy and now you were beginning to remember why though every mission with him was a success, you had still avoided it even before your break up.

This was what he did, he took over every single assignment, no matter who was the leader.

Not this time. This was your mission and your mission only.

“Y/N, did you….” Julian let out a chuckle, “Did you tell him about the time your grandma caught us at the—“

“It was good so see you,” you cut him off, glaring at him “But you should probably go now, I’m kind of busy.”

Julian paused only for a moment before holding up his hands, gesturing surrender.

“Okay,” he said, “It was nice to see you too. Again.”

“Yeah, sure.”

“It was nice to meet you Bucky,” he said, “Take care of yourself, Y/N.”

He walked away from you and you closed your eyes for a moment, leaning your head back to the wall.

“Fuck this shit,” you murmured under your breath without even realizing it wasn’t something your cover would say, and opened your eyes to look up at Bucky.

“Was he bothering you or something?” he asked you and you scoffed.

“Please,” you muttered but then pulled yourself together. “He’s not…that type no. Just annoying, that’s all.”

“Are you sure? Because I can—“

“No,” you shook your head fervently, “No, please don’t. It’s fine, it’s just— who he is.”

How dare he?

How dare he try to take over your mission? You had put so much thought into this, coming up with multiple strategies, trying to convince yourself that-

That you were doing the right thing. Even if you felt yourself getting lost in this cover, it didn’t mean that Julian could swoop in and take this over as if you were a rookie agent in need of help.

This whole assignment belonged to you, not to anyone else.

If you were going to betray Bucky’s trust and feel like the most terrible person in the world, the least you could do was not let Julian take the credit.

“I didn’t know you were coming,” you attempted to change the subject and Bucky tilted his head.

“Come on Y/N, don’t do that.”

“Don’t do what?”

“You don’t have to pretend like it’s fine,” he shrugged his shoulders, “I mean you don’t have to pretend, ever.”

Okay, this was too much. You could almost feel your defenses going up, the whole hangover and stress and anger and now Bucky being able to tell you were faking something, it was all getting the best of you and if you weren’t careful, you would say something you would regret later.

“I’m sorry?”

“I just,” he took a deep breath, “Sometimes you’re like…too good to be true, you know? And Sam has this theory that you’re—you’re somehow you’re doing this for me or the people around you but you don’t have to.”

“You think I’m pretending?” you asked, your voice coming out way too defensive for your own cover but you could hardly care.

You were slipping, and you didn’t have the luxury to slip. It seemed to take Bucky by surprise because for the first time since you had met, you were-

Aggressive. That was the word. Less like your cover and more like your real self.

“I didn’t mean it in a bad way,” he said and you let out a bitter chuckle, nodding.

“Yeah,” you said, “Okay. I’m kind of busy you see, I have so much to do at the shop so I should probably go back inside.”

“Y/N—“ he started but you pushed yourself off the wall.

“No it’s fine,” you managed to say, “This is me not pretending, for the record. I’ll see you later I guess.”

With that, you walked past him and went back to the milkshake shop, fury still poisoning your insides.

                                                 ***

You could hardly wait until you could go back to the base. Even though you thought that by then you would have calmed down, that didn’t seem to be the case.

You were fucking good at your job, and you were going to prove it to anyone and everyone. Without any help.

“Is he here yet?” you asked Chloe who rushed to greet you as soon as you stepped out of the elevator into the base and she cleared her throat.

“Who?”

“Don’t even, I know you heard what happened,” you cut her off and she shifted her weight.

“Yeah. I read his report.”

“Exactly. Where is he?”

“Okay, before I tell you where he is I feel like it’s important that you remember we’re not supposed to kill our own agents,” she said, “The paper work is a nightmare.”

“Where is he?”

“Keith says it’s considered rude to kill your team members.”

“Chloe,” you looked her in the eye “Where is he?”

She heaved a sigh, “In the training room.”

“Great, more weapons to use,” you muttered as you walked away from her to walk downstairs to the training room. Anger was pulsing through your veins and you kicked the door open, making the pair currently trying to hit each other stop.

“Get out,” you nodded at the other agent and Julian let out a small chuckle before he wiped his face with the towel. The agent rushed out of the room and you narrowed your eyes at Julian.

“You look upset,” he commented, “Want to exercise it out of your system?”

“What the fuck was that?”

Julian uncapped his water bottle to take a huge sip. “Come on, I saw an opening-“

“You made that opening,” you cut him off, “And crossed the line.”

“Oh please,” he waved a hand in the air, “It worked out perfectly fine.”

You could barely control your voice now, “You almost blew my fucking cover!”

“I would never,” he said, “Trust me, if anything I did you a favor.”

You dug your fingernails into your palms, “A favor?”

“Yeah. Guys love competition, an ex-boyfriend being in the picture will even speed up the process.”

“This is my mission.” You said through your teeth, “You don’t get to make spontaneous decisions without running them by me first.”

“When was the last time you had a proper fight?”

“I beg your pardon?”

“You always get cranky if you haven’t had a good challenge in a while,” he stated, “A good fight. I take it your boyfriend doesn’t tire you out enough?”

The innuendo wasn’t lost on you and you let out a small chuckle.

“You couldn’t tire me out if you tried.”

He tilted his head, “Is that a promise?”

You shot him a look and lunged but he easily dodged you, scowling.

“Come on Y/N,” he taunted you, “I won’t hold back, you shouldn’t either.”

“Oh don’t worry, I won’t hold back.” you grinned at him and darted to grab at him but he twisted your hand to push you back, making your back hit the wall. You pulled your hair into a ponytail and jumped to wrap your legs around his neck, spinning in the air to shove him to the ground. As soon as you both fell, you straddled him and pulled the dagger out of your boots to raise it and slam it to the ground right next to his head. A sly grin pulled at his lips as if he was having the time of his life.

“Look at you babe,” he said, “You got even better.”

You were very, very aware of the position you had both found yourself in. You used to find this whole thing hot, it was like foreplay to you. Mock fighting, training, all of it -especially with Julian- it used to be your second favorite activity.

Now, all you could think about was just how much more fun it would be with Bucky.

Maybe Julian was right. Maybe you were just a wild card.

A smirk curled your lips and you leaned in slightly to lock your eyes with his, looking down at him.

“My mission,” you growled. “Not yours. The next time you try to control what’s mine, I won’t be so nice.”

You pushed the dagger into your boot again and got off of him before storming out of the training room, still trying to keep your anger in check.

For some reason, you had a feeling it wouldn’t work.

                                               ***

No matter what you did for the rest of the evening, it just wasn’t enough to calm you down. Now to think of it, it wasn’t even completely about Julian and his nonsense, it was because—

You didn’t want Bucky to think you were pretending, even if you were.

Just because it was a cover, didn’t mean your reactions and the happiness you felt with him was fake as well. But he could still tell something was off— Sam could still tell something was off despite your best efforts.

Great.

You poured wine into your glass and changed the channel, trying to decide whether you should go and bug Keith or not. You heaved a sigh and tore your eyes from the screen to lean your head back, nibbling on your lip.

Dealing with feelings was much more difficult than taking down a target.

You groaned to yourself and took a huge sip of your wine, but before you could grab your phone you heard the doorbell ring. Your head shot up and you grabbed your gun to walk to the door, but as soon as you looked through the peephole to avoid yet another mistake like actually opening the door to Julian, you froze.

Bucky.

….Fuck.

“Um- just a second!” you called out before rushing to your room to hide your gun, then quickly looked around the apartment to see if there was anything that could tip him off. Overall, it looked perfectly civilian and you ran a hand over your face to pull yourself together.

Your cover was supposed to be angry at him.

You threw your shoulders back and walked to the door to open it, then leaned sideways to the doorframe, your lips pulled into a slight pout.

“Hi,” you murmured and his gaze lingered on your shorts and flimsy tank top before he looked away for a moment.

Ah.

Compared to 1940s, it was almost the same as you opening the door in your underwear.

“Hey,” he said and held up a small box of bagels. “Listen, I know you’re angry but um…I was hoping we could talk?”

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Keith’s door opening and he stepped out but as soon as he caught the sight of Bucky on your doorstep, his eyes widened and he froze. He quickly fixed his jacket so that it would cover his gun tucked into the back of the waistband of his jeans and gawked at you.

“What the fuck?” he mouthed and you got momentarily distracted, causing Bucky to follow your gaze over his shoulder to Keith.

And Keith, the badass spy, probably the only spy in the whole division who could give you a hard time in a fight, whom you had seen take down five armed soldier by himself with no weapons-

He waved at Bucky.

“Hi- hi neighbor,” he stammered as he turned to you and you shot him a forced smile.

“Hi.”

“Thanks for the cookies, I was going to bring you your plate the other day,” he said, “Do you need it now?”

Translation: Do you need back up?

“No, no,” you shook your head, “No worries, it’s fine.”

“Alright then. See you later.”

You cleared your throat and took the box from Bucky.

“Come in,” you turned around to walk to the living room, hearing him close the door behind him. It didn’t take him long to step into the living room and his eyes darted around as if trying to take in as much as he could. You figured it was natural, homes always gave clues about who their owners were.

Not to mention, as an ex-assassin he was automatically finding the nearest exits and things to use as weapons.

You would know. You did the same thing whenever you were in a new place.

You peeked into the box and frowned.

“What is this?”

“To be honest with you, I have no idea,” Bucky admitted, “It’s supposed to be a bagel. I just asked the guy to give me the most modern and weirdest combination.”

“Is this—is this glitter?”

“He said it was edible glitter, yeah. With lavender and cheese with honey.”

“Why is there two of them?”

He put his hands into his pockets. “I figured I could try one.”

You blinked a couple of times, “You want to try a lavender cheese honey bagel with edible glitter.”

Even the sound of it seemed to be painful for him but he pressed his lips together and nodded fervently. “Mm hm.”

You tried to stop the smile threatening to warm your face and put the box on the coffee table before looking up at him.

“Bucky, listen—“

“I’m sorry,” he cut you off, “That comment back there, it was so uncalled for.”

You crossed your arms, “Why did you say that though?” you asked, “Is that—is that what you think?”

“No,” he shook his head fervently, “Of course not.”

“Then?”

“I don’t know if I can give an explanation without it sounding incredibly weird to you.”

“Try me.”

“I didn’t mean it in a bad way,” he said “It’s like— the way you are, it’s like someone somehow looked into my whole life back in 40s before everything and saw every single detail of what I wanted and made you.”

Yeah. That was exactly what you and the division had done.

“I’m not used to…” he motioned at you, “This. It’s like you’re too good to be true, like you’re perfect, does that make sense?”

A dull pain flipped your stomach and you stared up at him, trying to ignore your throat tightening before you went to sit down on the couch.

“I’m not,” you rasped out, “I’m not perfect. You’ll see it sooner or later.”

That right there was as honest as you could be with him. You rubbed at your eyes and grabbed the wine glass to take a huge sip as he sat down beside you, his gaze fixated on you.

“I’m sorry too,” you said, “It was an overreaction, it’s just… Julian’s effect on me.”

He stayed silent for a couple of seconds as if he had no idea how to approach the topic.

“Rough break up?”

“You could say that,” you scoffed a laugh, looking down at your glass, “I mean….you think you know a person, right? And they have no problem with proving you otherwise, prove that you didn’t know them at all. They—they betray your trust and everything was a lie all along and—“

And just like that, the realization hit you like a ton of bricks, making you stop talking.

You were doing exactly the same. It was just another version of the betrayal you had seen from Julian, and you were doing the same thing to Bucky.

He thought he knew you, and you would prove him otherwise, and betray his trust and walk away when this mission was over. In fact, by the time it was over, he would hate you even more than you hated Julian.

You cursed under your breath and took another sip of your wine, trying to ease the crushing guilt making you feel almost breathless.

“Sorry,” you managed to say, “I didn’t mean to unleash it on you, I just don’t want him anywhere near me.”

“I could pay him a visit if you want?”

You pulled your brows together, distracted for a moment before you tilted your head to the side.

“What?”

“To warn him to stay away from you.”

“Uh, I appreciate the chivalry,” you said, “But I can take care of myself.”

“Never said you couldn’t,” he pointed out, “It’s just the old-fashioned thing.”

“Oh the old-fashioned thing?” you repeated with a smile and he shrugged his shoulders.

“Yeah,” he said, “You know, taking care of my girl.”

You thought your heart would leap out of your throat as the warmth spread through you before the idea of betraying him hit you once again. The words felt like they were trying to escape from your mouth, the urge to come clean getting heavier and heavier before you leaned in to brush your lips against his, making him wrap his arms tight around you to pull you closer. You settled in his embrace, the back of your eyes burning but you blinked a couple of times to get rid of tears. He nuzzled into your hair, inhaling your scent.

“Can we stay like this for a while?” you asked and he smiled, pressing a kiss on top of your head.

“Sure thing,” he said and nodded at the TV screen, “What is this movie about?”

“I don’t know, it has cars and criminals,” you said, the guilt making you feel almost nauseous, “Bucky?”

“Hm?”

He would never understand what your confession actually meant, but you felt as if you would choke if you didn’t say it.

“I like who I am when I’m with you.”

A chuckle rumbled in his chest before he reached out to caress your cheekbone.

“Makes two of us darling,” he murmured, “I like who I am when I’m with you too.”

A bitter smile curled your lips and you bit inside your cheek to control yourself, sniffling inaudibly before you closed your eyes, enjoying his warmth.

Chapter 14

[brownflower23]

Not My Father

Aaron Hotchner x Reader

*Mature Content Warning*

Summary: Reader gets arrested at a bar. Her boss comes to save her, but after months of frustration she doesn't get the response she expects. However, she receives much more than she can handle. 

"That pervert is lucky all I did was break his nose" You roll your eyes at officer idiot questioning you. Treating you as some sort of criminal, when in actuality you put the worst of criminals away. "Well we called your supervisor; you can take it up with him" The officer snickered, a lump instantly formed in your throat.

"You called who?" You yell at the dumbstruck officer in front of you, clearly not expecting your panicked response. Just after the words left your mouth, your boss crossed the barrier into the holding room. Your stomach instantly flipped, as if you had been caught by a parent as a child. Your eyes meeting his; he stared with the same scolding glare you were expecting. The same look you'd seen many times; it always gave you chills. However, you had never been the one sitting on this side of the table feeling its full force. He folded his arms tightly over his broad chest, eyes lingering at the cuffs connected to your wrist.

At that moment, you couldn't find words to defend what he was seeing, you could only imagine his thoughts. Your barely appropriate dress, your makeup, unlike anything he had seen at work. He finally peeled his eyes off of you, somehow that making you feel even worse.

"Please remove the cuffs, I can handle it from here. Thank you again for the call." Hotch finally spoke, but only to the officer, nodding to him. He returned the nod and quickly walked over removing your restraints.

"Thanks." You gripped at the idiot who arrested you, rolling your eyes at him again. Hotch shot you a warning glare, causing you to sigh while massaging your wrists. This night was utter bullshit. The officer finally left the room, you stood expecting to follow.

"Where do you think you're going?" His stern voice forcing your body to freeze, sending chills down your entire spine. "Um, I thought I was allowed to leave." You replied without looking directly at him, you didn't think you could handle it right now. "You have nothing to say for yourself?" Hotch scoffed.

"I'm sorry?" You questioned, failing to sound sincere. He doesn't respond this time, after an uncomfortable moment of silence you finally looked to meet his stare. He let out a frustrated sigh "Let's go. Before I change my mind." He cautions before leading us through the police station, again thanking the captain and same officer.

"Where is my car?" You ask once outside after you were returned your phone and I.D. "I'm guessing still at the bar you were picked up at, or by now at a towing company. You can deal with that in the morning, get in." He answers not stopping his strides toward the black SUV. You hurry to enter, afraid he might leave you here, the cool night air sending additional chills over your body, still buzzing from earlier.

The ride has an eerie silence, you had never made Hotch this mad at you, the feeling honestly made you want to hurl. You notice you aren't familiar with the street signs you were passing. "Can I ask where we are going?" You break the silence. "My place." He answers blankly, not removing his attention from the road. "Why?" You dare to question. "Because it is late, and you were picked up from a bar." He shot back gripping the steering wheel tighter, not seeming to give you another option.

After ten more agonizing minutes, he finally pulls into a parking garage. You quickly jump out of the car, following Hotch through a few hallways. You felt a wave of awkwardness once he finally stopped at the door. He quickly unlocked it and opened the door for you. You look at the open door, feeling like it was a threshold you shouldn't enter.

"Look I'm fine, I can call a cab to take me to my car." You insist, still not crossing the threshold. "No. You shouldn't be driving, you can stay here." He replied like it was an order. "We aren't at work." You spat not believing him. "Lower your voice, your yelling will wake others." He corrected you again, you noticing the clenching of his jaw. You groaned pushing past him into the apartment.

"Look I appreciate this but.." you start to continue your previous argument but his deep voice cuts you off. "You're correct agent, we are not at work. Meaning, that I did not have to leave my home in the middle of the night, coming to save you from being thrown in jail. You're lucky Jack is away or you would've been there until Monday." He chastised you again, but this time he was right. Although; still being a dick to you of all people.

"I didn't ask you to, I didn't even tell them I was an agent so don't try to make me feel guilty." You plead your case as he began to walk away. "I'm not trying to make you feel anything, maybe if you had more control of your actions you wouldn't be in this situation." He argues turning back in your direction. You finally noticed his different appearance, no jacket or tie, but jeans with an athletic shirt, his hair not styled but falling casually onto his face.

"I don't even want to be in this situation, I'll just go to my car." You huff turning back walking to the door. You just reached the handle, when a large hand came in your line of sight, pushing against the door.

"I'm not letting you leave like this. I don't know your mental state." You hear spoken close behind you. You spin on your heels, slightly taken back by how close your boss was to you. "I promise I'm fine. I wasn't drunk, and it's been hours." You roll your eyes again. "Obviously not, I have never seen you act like this." His voice was desperately trying to hide his frustration with you for the evening, you could see his chest rising against the fitted shirt.

"What? Not perfectly following your orders? Not everyone is perfect like you Hotch." You were yelling at this point, and you didn't care. You had never seen a person with more patience and composure than Hotch, but you finally broke him. "You allegedly assaulted someone at a bar drunk, get arrested, risk your career, the reputation of the BAU, and my credibility as Supervisor. You honestly think you should go back out right now?" He yelled back shocking you, feeling his minty breath fan across your face.

"You don't even know my side of the story!" You gasp at his assumptions. "How am I supposed to when you wouldn't tell me?" He hisses, still holding his same position, you had never seen such fire in his eyes.

"You are not my fucking father Hotch" You yell again, refusing to let him overpower you.

Your back hit the door with a thud, causing you to groan into his mouth. His hands gripping onto your hips roughly, pulling your bodies as close as possible. One of your hands latching his shoulder to steady yourself, while your other tugged at his soft hair.

"Then stop being a damn brat" He all out growls directly in your face, not missing a beat. Your not sure who moves first, you honestly think it was instantaneous, but before you blinked your mouths clash desperately, hands frantically grasping onto wherever you could reach first.

You purposely tugged harder, retrieving a groan from him, hearing it igniting a hunger in you. His lips slightly parted, so you took advantage sliding your tongue over his, still determined not to be overpowered.

Your control is short-lived, as he shifts his leg up, making you gasp at the contact, your head craning against the cold door. Even on your tiptoes, you couldn't relieve the pressure, perching you upon his thick thigh, causing your dress to bunch leaving only your damp underwear as a barrier.

"Did you think after your little game, I'd let you control me, sweetheart?" He huffs against your ear, in an even deeper tone than he usually held. You had never been affected by a pet name, but just coming from him made your walls clench, further agonizing you. You finally open your eyes, batting up at his dark eyes innocently. "I don't know what you mean" you smirk. You felt a low chuckle in his chest, and then you were swiftly moved, flipping you to face the door.

"I'm having a hard time believing that y/n. You've spent months purposely teasing and frustrating me. This..." he pauses his sentence, using his foot to spread your ankles, gripping your wrist together. "Is exactly what you wanted correct?" He completes the question as a whisper against your ear, making you shutter against him. You weren't giving in that easy.

"I honestly didn't think you had it in you...old man." You further push him, knowing your slight age difference being one of the things you regularly tease him about. He groans lowly at your words, pushing you harder against the door. "I still remember exactly how to handle a brat like you"

He punctuates the end of his sentence by effortlessly ripping your thin underwear from under your skirt, throwing the torn fabric to the floor. You shook at the cool air hitting your core, finally noticing how wet you were. His fingers brush over your center, gently spreading your arousal. You bite your lip to keep in the moans your body desperately want to release.

"Then why are you so wet for me sweetheart, hum?" Hotch hums in your ear, pushing his thick finger slowly into your pussy. You don't bother trying to hold in your moans this time, overwhelmed by the feeling of your muscles clenching around this finger, attempting to take it as deep as possible.

As if a single finger wasn't enough, he added a second stretching you delightfully. You scratch against his hand, as if some sort of plea, but the last thing you wanted was for him to stop as you could feel the pleasure building in your stomach. "Something wrong?" He coos arrogantly, watching your face morphing, as your pants of pleasure increase.

"Nothing" You manage to smart back without it sounding completely of a moan. By this point, you drenched his fingers, coating them entirely, letting him fuck his fingers into you as fast as he pleased. You hear a faint growl come deep from Hotch's chest, almost sounding frustrated. "Don't you lie to me; If you are not honest you don't get what you want sweetheart" "And what do I want?" You laugh through a heavy breath.

He shifts an unoccupied finger up to graze your clit every time his fingers plunge into you, making you gasp against the cold door. He leans down to your neck, tickling your skin with his beard. "To be fucked like you wish those boys you entertain would fuck you." Hearing your boss talk like that sends you spiraling, throwing your head back onto his chest to support you as your legs began to feel weak. Just as you clench around his fingers he retracts them, leaving you dripping down your thigh, craving satisfaction.

"What the fuck?" You yell spinning quickly to face him, he catches you by the neck placing you against the door again. Your breath caught, you felt like you didn't have a voice with his large hand around your throat. The way he was staring at you, like his prey. It made your knees weak.

He lifts his other hand between your bodies, you could see his middle fingers glistening. He keeps his eyes nailed to yours, you still trying to calm your pathetic pants. Your mouth gapes as you watch him take the fingers in his mouth, he groans out twirling his tongue, his eyes fluttering shut for a moment savoring your taste. You were fucked.

He removes his fingers slowly, still watching you staring at him with big doe eyes. Then wiping the edge of his mouth with his hand. "Watch it, sweetheart. I'm not sure if you haven't caught on... but I always give the orders. You will not cum until I allow." You whimper loudly at his declaration, you had never had a man command you like this, but you couldn't deny the effect it was having on your body.

"I'll do what you say." You whisper, barely audible, looking away from his eyes. Loosening his hand on your neck, using it to make you look back up to him. A faint smirk now played at the corner of his lips. "What was that?" He lightly chuckles. You suppress the urge to roll your eyes.

"I said I'll do what you say. Happy?" You return the smirk. "Hmm, honestly I thought you'd be harder to break. I think you're just trying to get what you want." He informs you, moving his face closer to yours. You shrug your shoulders innocently. "Is it working?" You breathe against his lips before gripping onto his shirt pulling him flush against you.

His mouth explores yours again; it's without a doubt the best kiss of your life. He was so skilled in his movements, and how he taunted you with his hands without actually pleasuring you. Maybe you had been dealing with boys before.

Hotch gripping into your hips, lifting you slightly before walking your bodies away from the door. You hardly notice he was moving you until your legs hit the back of a couch. He instantly spun you around making you a bit dizzy, folding you at the waist over the couch.

You couldn't help the smirk that grew on your face hearing the chime of his belt buckle, you were getting exactly what you wanted. "I wouldn't gloat so quickly y/n" Hotch warns. You try to look back to observe but cannot move from him keeping a hand on your neck, pushing your chest into the oversized cushion.

"And I shouldn't because?" You entertain his warning. "Because this" is the only answer he provides, and you then feel the pressure. That of him forcing his cock in you with a single plunge, burying himself to your brim, ripping through any defiance left in you.

"Aaron!" You scream out his first name, gasping for the air he just knocked from your stomach. He was massive, stretching you uncomfortably, you didn't have to see it to know you had never taken a cock this big. You were also sinfully a sucker for pain.

"Fuck" he groans above you, surly your tightness was affecting him also. You knew that he rammed into you purposely, not wanting you to be able to conform to his size before punishing you.

He made the single motion again, burying himself again and stopping, making you cry out again. "What's wrong sweetheart? A brat like you can take it right?" His breathing is labored now, one hand still tightly holding you down, the other now roughly gripping your hip. He repeats the same hard single thrust, you can feel tears building at your lashes. The way he filled you was overwhelming.

"Please" you beg, squirming under him. You weren't sure what you were begging for at this point, you just needed him. Every time he stills you could feel his cock pulsing deep in you, not delivering enough pleasure to relieve you, but only to further drive you mad.

"Oh, now you want to do what you're told huh? Now you beg like a pathetic whore." He responds with another snap of his hips. You couldn't take much more, you felt as if you could combust at any second. "Aaron I can't..please" you cry, feeling the tears stream over your face, he had finally broken you.

"Go ahead baby, call me what you really want. Go ahead." He groans, pulling your head back by a fist full of your hair. He didn't have to say it, you knew exactly what he meant, and he knew you wanted it. So you let everything out, all the months of frustration boiling over.

"Daddy, please...I'm yours...please" You wish you could've recorded the sound that escaped Aaron at that moment, a loud groan mixed with a needy whine. Matched by feeling his cock twitch inside you, struggling to stay composed hearing that name.

He throws his hips into you again, but this time it follows with another quick thrust, over and over, filling the room with a slapping noise and your moans. He keeps your hair pulled back, making your body hold the arch for him to angle deeper, brushing your g spot with each hard thrust.

"Yes yes yes, don't stop" You scream, him finally giving you what you needed. "Can you take it, baby? You're so damn tight" He grunts, you weren't going to last with him calling you baby. "Yes, daddy, harder please" you plea, wanting him to ruin you. He grants your wish, fucking you harder, you gasping feeling it all the way in your stomach. You would certainly be bruised tomorrow, but the pain would be worth it.

"Fuck daddy. So good... so fucking deep." You cry, feeling your body begin to tingle, your legs shaking against him. He groans feeling you tightening "Cum for daddy sweetheart." He encourages through his heavy breaths, and that's all it takes to make your body snap. He slows his motions slightly letting you ride out your orgasm, your walls still fluttering around his thick cock.

He releases your head, you not having the energy to stay upright you letting it hang down against the couch. "Shit that's was amazing" You whisper, causing him to chuckle and slowly begin to move into you again. Your eyes flash open realizing he still hadn't finished.

"Aaron I can't" you whine, your body couldn't possibly take more of this. "Oh I'm not finished, and neither are you" He growls in your ear, you couldn't help but moan out at his tone. "I can't take anymore" You whine again, only fueling him. He releases the hand that was holding you, now gripping onto both of your hips harshly, definitely leaving a mark. There was no reason to restrain you anymore, he knew you were his.

Hotch returns to the same pace he held previously, causing your eyes to roll back as you yelp, grasping onto the couch for dear life it felt. "Don't forget your place sweetheart. You're done when I say brat..." he pauses his sentence, repositioning one of his hands to your front. "And I think you can give me one more." He states as he set fire to your body rubbing fiercely over your clit, steadily pushing himself deep, determined to make you unravel again.

"Daddy" You scream, feeling your body giving in to him, his thrust becoming frantic, his moans become beastly with each thrust. "Give it to me y/n. Ahh... fuck. I know you want to baby." Is his final pleasuring cry to take you with him, as he made a final slap against your body to sheathe himself fully.

"Oh, Aaron" Is all you can cry as the air hitches in your throat. All at once, your body erupts again, feeling him filling you with his seed. Grasping onto him to anchor yourself to reality, uncertain this level if euphoria is real, or if you'll ever get to relive it again.

Drained of any energy, your body collapses into his, feeling his arms catch you and lifting you sweetly into his embrace. Although; unable to open your eyes, you feel him carefully carrying you, and then the soft cushion of a bed. You weren't sure how long he was gone, but your body slightly jumps at the feeling of a wet cloth between your thighs.

"Wha..what are you doing?" You mutter against a pillow and hear him softly laugh at you. "I've got you, sweetheart, just rest" He replies in a very tender voice. He softly wipes your leg, erasing the proof of your shared pleasure. Even half-conscious you had never felt so adored. Following; you feel him slide the heels off your feet, and then tug at the end of your dress to remove it. Your dress is finally off, and you feel it would be silly to care about after the deed you two just committed.

You are only naked for a couple of seconds before he wiggles a soft t-shirt over your body, oversized enough to be a nightgown. It smells strongly of him, which comforted you, but not as much as him pulling you into his bare chest, kissing your forehead just as you slip into an exhausted sleep.

Please let me know if this should be turned into a short series! Thanks loves!

[taechaos]

Your Boy, No?

pairing: bully!Jungkook x nerdy!fem!Reader

genre: drabble, smut, college au

synopsis: You can't stand seeing Jungkook with another girl, so you give him a piece of your mind in a stranger's bedroom by becoming his outlet of sexual frustration.

warnings: losing virginity, riding, degradation

a/n: jungkook's character is not exactly submissive, so i added my own twists to this request. i hope you don't mind @madygswich c:

word count: 2.5k

You can't stop pouting. Holding back tears when seeing a woman perched up on Jungkook's lap while they make out has proven to be difficult, but you're trying. It hurts your heart; hell, you're aching everywhere. It doesn't take a genius to know he's doing it to get a reaction out of you when his eyes are throwing daggers at you with his tongue down another girl's throat.

Following Jungkook around like a lost puppy isn't ideal, especially at a frat party. He never gives you the time of the day if it's not out of menace, but you aren't willing to give up on him. It's just not possible when you are so in love with him, and so fucking jealous.

More than Jungkook, you're mad at the girl. You want to rip her heart out, make her suffer for ever touching the love of your life. You're becoming irrational, mentally cussing her out for being a whore while you stop yourself from breaking down in a house filled with horny young adults. You don't know a single person here, and you have to deal with your pent up emotions all by yourself.

You choke out a sob when Jungkook starts kneading the girl's ass shamelessly with her skirt hiked up to her back. They're being so inappropriate in the kitchen of a stranger's house, while you can't even take a sip from your spiked drink in the bustling living room. You abruptly stand up and throw away your plastic cup when Jungkook's hand disappears elsewhere, and you have an idea of what he's about to do. You march over to him, looking absolutely tiny next to the overbearing college students and you don't notice Jungkook's sinister smile as he watches you fume.

"Let go," you sound hoarse, and not at all intimidating when you push the girl off of his lap. She stumbles at the force, but you pay no mind to her confusion as you pull Jungkook up by his arm to drag him away. You think it's the anger and adrenaline giving you so much strength, but it's Jungkook amusing himself by allowing you to take him upstairs.

"This isn't a therapy session, little girl," he yells over the music, "I didn't come here to listen to you cry."

You huff and let a single tear slip before harshly wiping it away. When you reach the hallway, you enter the first bedroom you find. It's occupied by a foreplaying couple, but you're driven as you hiss, "Out!"

They leave at your demand, and you're confusing a lot of people tonight. Jungkook is surprised by your sudden aggression, but he doesn't stop with his remarks, "the chihuahua's gone mad."

"Shut up, Jungkook!" you whirl around angrily to face him. "How could you do that to me?!"

He quirks a brow. "Do what to you? I'm sorry, am I the one who forcefully brought you here? Am I tripping or are you?"

You push at his chest, "you're a fucking whore! Tonguing a girl in front of everyone, in front of me?"

His shoulders shake in silent laughter and you cross your arms when he starts cackling loudly. The music is drowned out and muffled behind the door, but it's nothing compared to how hysterically Jungkook is laughing.

"What's so funny?" you ask lamely. He throws his head back as he clutches his stomach, and you're starting to get annoyed. You push him on the bed, but he's still laughing. "Quit it already," your voice wavers, but you don't back down as you smack his chest. You place your knees on both sides of his hips to limit his movement and cover his mouth to shut him up.

His crescent eyes turn intense instantly as he glares at you under his hooded lids. He exerts only a tiny bit of his energy into pushing your hand away and you weakly collapse on him. It's foul play to compete with his muscles, and you realize he can snap you in half if he wanted to regardless of your rush of adrenaline.

You sit back up as he lowly speaks, "The fuck's it to you? I wanted to fuck her, and I was going to until you stepped in as if you're my girlfriend. Tell me why I shouldn't go back to her right now." He clasps his hands under his head, making himself comfortable with your weight pressing against his crotch.

"You know why," you huff with a frown, and you look so cute in the dim lighting with your baggy knitted sweater bunching up on the sleeves, sitting on his bulge with so much innocence in your expression. He's smitten, but it doesn't show in his cold stare. "I'm your girl, and I won't tolerate you messing around with other women. It's slutty!" You slightly bounce for emphasis, but your knee-length skirt hides your actions. Jungkook feels it with you, and his eyes trail down to your lower region.

"My girl?" he parrots with a raised brow. He gazes back into your eyes. "You do my homework."

"I don't care. I love you," you plead pathetically, "please say you love me back."

"Wasn't I a whore just a second ago?"

"You were! Apologize to me," you harshly yank his head back by his hair. He doesn't react in the slightest, so you softly add, "please."

"Oh little girl," he sighs, "are you really trying to dominate me right now?"

"I am dominating you. Promise me you won't kiss another girl like that again. I won't forgive you a second time."

"Yeah? What's my loss?"

"Well, you're lazy in school," you bluntly state, "and no one loves you like I do. No one would try to cater to you like I do. I'd do anything for you, Kookie." You tug down your skirt to take it off and plop back down on him before saying, "Including sex. You can only use me for your sexual needs."

He's enamored by your words, but he doesn't dare share it with you. Instead, he thrusts upwards and you yelp when you jump. "Go on then," he says nonchalantly. "Show me how much of a slut you are."

"U-Um, okay," you stutter and start unzipping his black denim jeans. You've seen a lot of porn videos to make sure you were prepared for the next step with Jungkook, but you have no experience with penetration.

And he realizes that rather quickly when you're so meek with your actions. With a groan, he asks, "You're not a fucking virgin, are you?"

"I've been saving it for the right guy," you answer with offence. This is a special occasion, and you want him to take it as seriously as you do. But it's definitely not a good idea to be snarky with him when you can barely remember the steps for safe sex. "Do you have a condom?"

"It's in my pocket," he grumbles and points at his front without taking it out himself. You're excited and nervous as you tear the wrapper and take out the preservative. You have no idea how to put it on, but you're topping so you clumsily push down his briefs. Jungkook is surprisingly throbbing under you, and you blush at the sight of his erection.

He stops himself from teasing you and saying that the girl from earlier gave him this boner, but he doesn't want to be cruel yet. It's your first time, and truthfully, he jacks off to thought of you too often anyway. He can handle being somewhat nice by staying quiet, but that doesn't mean he would teach you how to put on a condom.

You slip it on with little struggle, and don't waste any time in positioning his cock in your entrance. Before he can stop you, you sink down on his length with a painful moan. He wants to tell you that losing your virginity in this position is the most painful, but instead he groans, "Holy shit, how are you so fucking tight?"

It hurts so fucking bad. Your tear ducts are like clockwork as they water instantly, but you lower yourself down to the hilt anyway. You're quite literally sitting on his cock as you try to catch your breath because God, you're in so much pain.

"Fuck, are you okay?" he asks, but he's more worried about controlling himself from fucking into you before you can adjust. It's difficult, but he's trying.

"Jungkook," you whimper quietly with your eyes screwed shut, "it hurts."

"You're so fucking dumb for doing this, but you feel so fucking good," he pants as he holds your hips.

"Thank you," you muster out in a breath. A few seconds pass until the pain starts to numb, and you move against him very slowly. Your walls are stinging, but it feels like Heaven for Jungkook who you clench down on.

"Go up and down," he instructs with a bit lip. He tries to move your hips, but you're resisting in fear of another shock of pain. "Come on!"

"Can you wait?" you hiss through clenched teeth.

He's trying to rile you up when he says, "Sana wouldn't take this fucking long."

And it works, because you bounce once. "Don't say her name!"

He groans at your tightness, and he can't believe how wet you are. You're dripping on him, and he curses himself for holding back because of your hopeless romance. He can't entertain your conservative way of going on about this any longer, so he continues, "She would have made me cum by now, but this prissy princess can't even get a move on."

It's almost pathetic how one push from Jungkook makes you start moving, and it feels less uncomfortable to hop up and down against his pelvis. The filthy sound of slapping skin mixing with the generic radio music is making you feel so slutty because it's so stereotypical, but when Jungkook moans, it brings heat all over your body. You take your sweater off when sweat begins to cumulate on your temples, and he commands, "Take off your bra too."

He's thrusting into you as you unclasp the black material, freeing your breasts as he finds his new eyecandies. You are so pretty, your nipples are so hard, and your cunt sucks him in so perfectly. It almost upsets him when he realizes how much pleasure he's deprived himself of; the amount only you seem to be able to provide, because it's beyond physical intimacy.

"Good girl," he exhales and gently slams into you with his hands fondling your tits. You smile coyly through your tears, and he asks, "Does it still hurt?"

You contemplate for a second, because you don't feel the best yet, but you don't want to disappoint Jungkook either. "I-It doesn't," you lie.

Jungkook mentally rolls his eyes; he really wants to believe you so he can chase his high, but he sees right through you. He slaps your tit without mercy and chastises you, "don't lie. I thought this was your little moment of control."

"I'm sorry," you pout as you slowly ride him.

"Another lie," he slaps your other tit more harshly and you yelp.

"I'm not lying!" you plead and hasten your pace, desperate to sell your lie. It's working, because you're starting to feel a knot in your stomach the more you adjust.

He moans with you, and you lose yourself when he stills your hips and begins to fuck you himself. It's rough, loud, and the pain is your pleasure. His balls slap against your skin as he easily slides in and out of you with the help of your arousal. Your love dawns on him when you're so turned on for him without any foreplay, and he's on cloud nine because nothing can compare to being inside you.

The setting is so unlike you, fucking in someone's bedroom with a bunch of people behind the unlocked door who can barge in at any given moment, but he finds it so sexy. You only care about being with him, and you really do look like his slut now.

His hands start holding onto your ass, kneading it until it turns red with his fingerprints, and he demands you to kiss him. You're out of it, your ears are ringing and you can only moan out his name, but you can't bear to ignore him. Your lips fall on his, and the kiss is sloppy with his tongue all over your mouth. You can't keep up, but your chest swells with pride when you realize how needy he is for you. He goes as far as to spit in your mouth, and you swallow it without hesitation.

"You want me to play with your clit?" he murmurs against your lips, and his voice sounds so airy and melodic to your ears. "Hm? Want me to make you feel good, little slut?"

You whine without a clear response because his lips feel so soft and wet, and that's the only thing you can focus on. All you want to do is kiss him and he doesn't stop you from doing so, but you're even more overwhelmed when he starts touching you while penetrating you. "No," you whimper, "I'll cum."

"A slut can take it," he grunts and rubs your clit faster, and you come undone all too soon. You moan loudly as you tremble, shaking as he rides out your high with a pinch to your clit. You're numb when you collapse on top of him, but he's relentless with his thrusts. He's using your body as you intended, and he's vocal with his pleasure and teasing climax. It's remarkable how he holds you up when you've gone limp and still fucks you just as hard.

You want to record his voice when he starts to whine pathetically, but you have no energy left within. He's panting in your ear, and it's not long before his hips fall on the mattress with a sigh. He's surprised by how powerful his orgasm was, as he fills the condom with his release instantly. His cock is still nestled inside you as both of you recover from your climax.

"Get off," he taps your thigh, and he pushes you off when you don't obey immediately. Your spell has worn off as he starts to dress himself. "I'm going back to the dorms." You listen to him with your mind in a haze. "Unless you want to get raped on your way without me, get the fuck up now."

"Can you carry me please?"

He shrugs and swings your arm over his shoulder, picking up your body with ease. He collects your clothes in his hand, but doesn't hand them to you as he steps out of the room.

"W-Wait, Jungkook, I'm naked-"

"You're my girl, no? Be a good slut and shut the fuck up."

Dangling off his shoulder with your bare tits pressed against his back, you close your eyes and drift off on the way to campus.

Boyfriends typically drop their girlfriends off anyway, right?

[reids-rendering-reality]

Drunk Dials

Summary: Y/N and Penelope are having a fun night off drinking until Penelope has the idea to drunk text the entire team some promiscuous messages and one of them takes up the offer.

(A/N: inspired by this post, written with permission)

Type: lead up to smut (if you guys enjoy this, I might write a smutty part two)

Warnings: alcohol consumption

Word Count: 1.5K

 I quickly sprayed on a little perfume and hurried to the door when I heard the doorbell ring. I opened the door to find Penelope with her typical bright colours, tonight’s were a bright green and purple.

“Hii,” I giggled while hugging her and let her inside, “I see you’ve come prepared.”

And indeed she had: under her arms were two bottles of red wine and her bag made clinking noises from glass as she set it down on my kitchen counter to reveal two more bottles.

“Who else did you invite? We can’t drink all that by ourselves,” I grinned at her. While we did the occasional drinking with the team, my tolerance was in no way capable of the amount of alcohol she had brought.

“Well, the night is young. Watch and learn, my little butterfly,” she responded and carried the first bottle over to the couch. I followed after her, two glasses in my hands and the wine opener tucked under my arm.

And so the night ensued with a lot of laughter and drinks, some dancing and so much gossiping. Halfway into the second bottle I was navigating the fine line between tipsy and drunk while Penelope appeared to be slightly tipsy. How could her tiny body carry so much alcohol?

“Let’s play truth or dare!” she exclaimed, “but if you don’t want to do it, you drink.”

“Oh god, my body will hate me tomorrow,” I complained, but added, “but right now it seems like a great idea.”

“Your body will forgive you because of the fun we’re having tonight. I’ll start. Truth or dare?”

“Truth,” I responded, pouring more wine into our glasses.

“Who was the last person you slept with?” she grinned and clinked her glass to mine before taking a sip.

“Starting off strong,” I chuckled and then thought about my answer for a moment, “I think it was that police officer a couple of months ago from that case in Denver. I haven’t had sex in way too long.”

“A couple of months is a pretty long time. Was it that one with the cute little butt? He was the embodiment of ‘sweet cheeks’,” she swooned a little.

“Yes, exactly him. It wasn’t that satisfying though. Although he was good-looking, he was pretty egocentric in bed,” I commented and took another drink from my glass.

“Well, it’s time for your luck to change. You are lucky to have me, your personal oracle and booty call finder. We will find you someone to give you as many orgasms as your little heart desires – or can handle if you’re into that,” Penelope says and raises her glass dramatically.

A couple of truths, dares and a lot of drinks later, we were both shit-faced drunk and laughing on my couch. In front of us was the third bottle, which was now almost empty as we tried to catch our breath.

“Alright, your turn again, darling dearest. Truth or dare, choose wisely,” Penelope says still chuckling and readjusting her seating position.

“Dare. Bring it on,” I said, my words slightly slurred already. Leave it to Penelope to get me as drunk as I last was on my 21st birthday.

“I’ve got a good one, get your phone, baby,” she said setting down her glass. When she saw my quizzical look she continued, “you are going to text everyone on the team-“

Before she could continue I interrupted, “no no no, that sounds like a horrible idea. I am in no position to make any choices right now,” I laughed and swayed slightly.

“I am making the choice for you. You are going to get some action in the sheets and I am going to bring it to you. Your phone will be the arrow that my cupid’s bow will use to shoot you into your next naked bliss.”

“Oh my god, what is your plan?” I fake-groaned, actually being completely entertained by the idea.

“You my dear, are going to text everyone from our team, the simple words, ‘hey you wanna fuck?’ and we’ll see who responds,” she said excitedly.

“Even Rossi and Hotch?”

“Even them. Everyone.”

“Alright, just because it’s you, Pen,” I said and grabbed my phone.

She leaned over my shoulder and watched me as I began texting. I copy-pasted the message to Spencer, Derek, JJ, Emily, Rossi and Hotch. I could hear Penelope giggling the entire time. When I was done, I remembered I could’ve just taken a drink to get out of the dare, but it was too late now.

After a couple of minutes I was still dying of embarrassment of what I had just done, but still laughing with Penelope as my phone lit up for the first time.

We both instantly looked over and I grabbed my phone. My heart was racing. I had never done anything like this before.

JJ: I’m married???

When we read the message we both burst out in laughter. JJ knew that Penelope and I were hanging out today and obviously caught on to what we were doing.

“Let me respond!” she said and I handed my phone to her.

Me: Will doesn’t have to know ;)

“Penelope!” I exclaimed in between laughter.

 A while later almost everyone else on the team had responded:

Rossi: Sorry to disappoint you, kid, but you’re not in my age range for wife number four. I’m sure you’ll find someone else to complete the job.

Derek: I thought you’d never ask.

Emily: I’m down anytime.

Hotch: I’m sure this was meant for someone else. If not: I’m your boss??

 Penelope and I continued the night with laughter over the texts and other stupid drunk dares until it was about 4am. Spencer still hadn’t responded. I was slightly disappointed as I had taken a liking towards the doctor since my time at the BAU.

“I can’t believe Spencer didn’t respond. I thought for sure that he’s got a crush on you,” Penelope said while trying to put on her heels at the door.

“I don’t know about that, but drunk me wants him to respond to my booty call.”

“Honey, I’m sure that’s not just drunk you,” she said with a grin.

We hugged each other goodbye and she began swaying down the hallway to her cab waiting outside.

I got ready for bed and drank a glass of water. All the while still no response. Assuming that he’d read the message but just ignored it and went to bed, I did the same. From the beginning of my time at the BAU I had that crush on Spencer, but I guess it wasn’t mutual.

The next morning I woke up with a huge headache as expected. I sighed and checked my phone. Still no response. I made myself a coffee and got dressed to go into work as slowly as possible. After those drunk texts I did not want to see anyone today.

 I was the last to arrive at the bullpen that day. My headache had lifted and I was fit enough to survive a typical paperwork day. But the embarrassment had stayed. What was I thinking, texting everyone to hook up with me? I wasn’t thinking, that’s it.

To my surprise, no one commented on it. They probably all understood that it was just a drunken game because Penelope and I had been talking about our meet up yesterday. To say I was relieved was an understatement. But Spencer was different from his usual behaviour around me. His head was stuck in a book the entire day – he didn’t look at me once.

That changed however, when I was making myself a coffee at lunch. Pouring some into a cup I almost jumped at the sound of Spencer’s voice.

“Hey, Y/N,” he said casually and walked up to me, mug in hand.

“Hi, Spence,” I responded quietly and added some milk. I looked up at him briefly to find his eyes focused intently on pouring the liquid.

Just as I was about to leave for my desk, he spoke up again.

“About your text from last night,” he began to say. I felt my cheeks heat up and turned back around to him.

“Yes?” I forced myself to look at him, just to see him even more blushed than I was.

“Was that for me? I mean, I would very well understand if it was an accident and it was meant for someone else. It surprised me to say the least.”

Deciding to take my chance, I said, “no, it was meant for you.”

“And are you serious about it?” he looked back down at his mug.

I took a step closer to him, “am I serious about fucking you?”

Upon hearing those words, his eyes shot up towards mine and he gulped. He looked almost as though he feared my response as he nodded.

“Yes.”

I saw his mouth open and close, obviously trying to formulate a response but not finding one.

“Um, I don’t really know how to say this, but um- I’d like that.”

[verai-marcel]

Serendipitous Meetings (Arthur x GN!Reader, Modern AU, 18+)

Summary: You foolishly didn’t mark where you parked in the huge parking structure, and spend some time looking for your car. You run into a fellow who did the same thing, and things get ridiculously serendipitous from there.

Author’s Notes: How many tropes can I shove into this fic? Let’s face it, I just wanted to have Arthur fuck like the manly man that he is. Also going for gender neutral as much as possible, so all my readers who want a piece of Arthur can have him.

Tags: Arthur x GN!Reader, smut, light D/s tones, size kink, light spanking, neck grabbing, rough sex, dirty talk, modern AU

AO3 Link is here, li’l darlin’.

Word Count: 3764

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"Shit."

You let out a long suffering sigh as you looked around the packed parking structure. In your rush to meet your friends, you had forgotten to take a photo of where you parked. Now you stared at the large expanse of cars, racking your brain for at least a slight memory of how you got to the venue entrance from your car. 

Sticking your hand into your pocket, you gripped your phone for a moment before letting it go. You had already shooed your friends away, insisting you had parked nearby and could get to your spot no problem. Swallowing your pride, you started to search the rows for the off-white bucket of bolts you dared to call your car. 

After searching one floor, you trudged up the stairs to the next one, stopping a few steps past the landing to gaze upon the hundreds of cars before you. You faintly heard another set of steps coming down the stairwell, but you were so mired in your own despair that you didn't pay the sound any mind. 

"Shit," said a gravelly voice next to you. 

Glancing over, a very broad set of shoulders filled your view. Your eyes flicked over the red and black flannel shirt and blue jeans, with an almost hilariously large belt buckle. Then you looked up. 

Oh no. He was gorgeous, in a rugged, manly-man sort of way. That chiseled jaw, the five o’clock shadow, that thick neck… he was the kind of man who could probably pick you up and throw you over his shoulder with ease. You were so busy staring at him in tired awe that he finally noticed you.

A pair of turquoise eyes met yours. "Sorry," the man said. "Can't find my truck."

It took you half a second to remember to respond. Then you gave him an empathic half-grin. "I can't find my car either."

He pointed upstairs. "What's yer car look like? Maybe I saw it up there."

You shook your head. "It's just a generic off-white Toyota Corolla."

The man shrugged. "Oh. Well, sorry darlin', there's a bunch of those up there."

You sighed, lamenting the fact that your car was one of the most popular cars out on the road these days. You also secretly enjoyed him calling you darling with that accent of his. He sounded like he had just stepped out of a spaghetti western. 

"Maybe I saw your truck downstairs, if it stands out," you said, trying to be helpful. 

"It's a blue Chevy pick-up. Really old, like one o' them classic trucks, 'cept it ain't been cleaned up like the ones you see in a car show."

Your memory flashed with the image of a dirty blue truck in your apartment complex's garage. You stifled a laugh at the thought. You had always wondered who drove the old thing, since you had never seen its owner. 

"Nope, I didn't see a truck like that downstairs," you told him. 

"Oh. Well, guess we better start lookin'," he said. He looked at you for a moment, opened his mouth, then closed it again.

You waited.

“Maybe,” he finally said, “maybe we could look together? For a bit. Keep each other company.”

“Okay,” you said easily. Part of your brain screamed that it could be really easy for him to just pull you into his car, but you dismissed the voice in your head. He seemed alright; you had a good feeling about this guy.

The two of you took off towards the left side of the structure. Putting your remote under your chin and hoping it would actually increase its range, you hit the button on occasion. 

“Uh, what’re you doin’?” he asked, pointing at your remote.

“Oh, I read about this online, someone figured out that you can use your own head as an antenna, or something like that.”

The man raised an eyebrow, but eventually just nodded. “Huh, I guess that makes sense.”

You shrugged. “Haven’t tested it before this, so I’m hoping it actually works.”

The two of you wandered further and further towards the center when finally you heard that familiar beep. 

*BEEP BEEP*

He chuckled. “Guess it works.”

You had never been so happy to hear that annoying little buzzer of a horn. You took off at a jog without waiting for the man, going towards where you had heard the sound, and as you turned a corner, you spotted it. 

It was the big, old, blue truck from your apartment complex. 

No way, you thought. There is no way. Maybe it's a similar truck. 

Going back, you saw the man wandering around, still searching. 

"Hey Mister!" you yelled. 

He turned towards you. 

You excitedly pointed towards the truck. "This yours?" 

He started walking to you, and as he came closer, you could see the smile on his face and felt your heart skip a beat. 

"Thank you," he said, stopping in front of you. "Where’s your car?"

You grinned and hit your unlock button. The little off-white sedan next to his truck let out a little beep, the lights coming on. 

"Wish I had one of those," he said wistfully. "Sure woulda made my life easier." He looked at you with a small smirk as he opened the door to his truck. "But then I wouldn’t have met you. Thanks fer your help, angel."

You smiled, feeling your cheeks warm from his comment. "No problem." You struggled to find anything else to say, feeling pathetically desperate to hear him speak more. "Have a good night," you finally said. 

"You too," he said, his voice a little lower, a little more breathy as he hauled himself into his truck and closed the door. Now that you had a pretty good feeling that he was a decent guy and not a creep, you half-wished he really would pull you into his truck and have his way with you. 

Shaking the lewd thought from your head, you got into your car and set up your phone to listen to a podcast as you drove home. You eased your way out of the garage, through the local roads, and onto the freeway. For the next thirty minutes, you would spot the same blue truck out of the corner of your eye. Sometimes you’d pass him, sometimes he’d pass you. 

Maybe it’s a different blue truck, you tried to convince yourself.

You couldn’t convince yourself any further when you pulled into your apartment complex right behind him. He parked at his usual spot, three away from yours. Climbing out of your car, you saw him walk towards you.

“You followin’ me?” he asked gruffly, though the grin on his face clearly showed his amusement at the coincidence.

“I can’t believe we live in the same complex,” you muttered, still in shock that you had never seen this handsome man before. “How long have you lived here?”

“Oh, ‘bout two years now.”

“Shit,” you thought to yourself.

“Why’re you cursin’?”

Oh crap. You said that out loud. “I, uh, um,” you stammered.

He quietly watched you, letting you stew in your own embarrassment, an amused grin on his face. The bastard was enjoying watching you squirm!

Feeling your face heat up, you blurted out the truth.

“We could’ve known each other sooner!”

It was an unfortunate tick in your personality that you had never managed to get rid of, and now, watching his eyes widen at your embarrassing remark, you wished the sidewalk would just open up and swallow you whole. But since that wasn’t going to happen, you opted to turn around and stalk away.

“Hey now, wait, you can’t just say that and leave,” the man said, jogging to catch up to you. When you wouldn’t stop walking, he swerved in front of you, forcing you to stop mere millimeters from him. You noticed how big he was, how little you were in comparison. You weren’t a small person by any means, he was just… large.

“Why’re you runnin’ away, darlin’?” he asked, his voice hushed as if he was trying to calm a wild animal. Perhaps with the way you acted, you seemed that way to him.

You took a deep breath, accidentally inhaling his scent, a mix of pine trees and a subtle hint of campfire smoke and musk that made you want to bury your face in his chest and stay there. Desire shot straight between your legs, reminding you that it had been a long time since you’d been with anyone. Letting out a shaky breath, you made the poor choice of looking up at him.

You were blinded by his kind smile and seduced by his deep voice. “Do you want to know me?” he asked quietly. 

“Yes, I do,” you answered immediately.

He pointed to his apartment. “I live there. Want to share some whiskey?"

You paused. He was a stranger. 

A stranger with beautiful eyes and the sweetest smile you had ever seen. 

You followed him willingly into his den. 

***

You blinked after he turned on the lights. When your vision cleared, your expectations were, fortunately, not met at all.

You had expected a bachelor pad with junk everywhere and clothing on the floor. What you saw was a clean and neat living room with a simple couch and a TV on top of a small entertainment center that held a few blu-rays and a blu-ray player. The short table in front of the couch had a plate on it, a smudge of ketchup and some crumbs on it, and a glass with a little bit of water left.

The man went to pick up after himself, putting the dirty dishes in the sink before going to his pantry. His kitchen looked pretty bare, except for the dried herbs, tied up in bunches under his cabinets. 

While he shuffled around bottles, you went to sit on his couch, but not before pausing for a moment to look through the door to his bedroom. He had a bed that looked big and comfy, his sheets somewhat askew but otherwise in place. Didn’t look like there were any clothes or boxes lying around anywhere. So either the man was tidy, or he didn’t own a lot of things.

“Curious li’l one, ain’tcha?” he chuckled behind you.

Spinning around, you could only give him a sheepish grin. “Yup, sorry. I couldn’t help myself.”

He smiled and gave you a tumbler of amber liquid with a giant sphere of ice. “Curiosity like that could get you in trouble one day,” he said mysteriously, gesturing towards the couch.

You raised an eyebrow, but sat down anyway. You took a sip of the ice cold whiskey, enjoying its slow burn down your throat. It was smooth and sweet. “This is fantastic, what is it?”

“It’s a blackberry flavored whiskey,” he replied as he settled himself on the couch, a little closer to you than you had expected. “I thought you might like it.”

“Oh?” You leaned in a little closer. “And why is that?”

“Somethin’ a li’l sweet fer a li’l sweetheart,” he said with a grin. He knew he was being schmaltzy, but you didn’t care. You were eating up his words, spoken with that deep rumble that went right between your legs.

You continued to sip and make small talk with him until your ice had melted and the late night had become the witching hour. But he didn’t seem to mind, and you wanted to stay.

“You got a bit o’ whiskey here,” he said as he leaned in and reached for the corner of your lips, his thumb catching the drop that had escaped your last sip. You flicked out your tongue to catch him, and your eyes met. A heartbeat passed. The whiskey gave you strength.

Taking his hand in yours, you surged forward and kissed his lips, tasting whiskey and his woodsy scent. A low moan came from deep within him, but he did not reach for you. His hands gripped the cushions as he let you take the lead, climbing into his lap and wrapping your arms around him, your fingers kneading his broad shoulders. You kissed the breath from him, desperate to feel him against you.

When you finally broke away for air, you stared at his eyes, now filled with lust and longing, and realized you didn’t even know his name. 

He came to the same conclusion. “What’s yer name, darlin’?”

You told him.

He nodded and repeated your name. It sounded so good when he said it. “Feels nice to say it out loud,” he said. “I’m Arthur,” he added as he wrapped his arms around you and held you tenderly. “How far do you want to go?”

“All the way,” you said, grinding your hips against his groin, making him take a shuddered breath.

Without a word, he picked you up and carried you to his big, comfy bed. He dropped you unceremoniously and took off his shirt.

He was ripped. He was built like a man who had worked all his life in a physical job, carrying & lifting. With his tall stature, his broad shoulders, and his huge arms, he made you feel small.

You had never been more aroused in your whole life. 

Your body was ready to be thoroughly fucked by this man, and you hadn’t even taken your clothes off yet. You watched hungrily as he undid his belt and dropped his jeans & boxers, your eyes taking in his size. He wasn’t even at full mast yet, and you already wondered if you’d be able to take him all in.

“Your turn, darlin’.”

Taken out of your trance, you took off your clothes as he watched. You started at a normal pace, but when you saw him take himself in his hand and stroke himself while watching you with a lustful gaze, you slowed down, making an attempt to tease him. Already topless, you lay back on the bed and lifted your legs up, sliding your pants upwards. Slowly, you exposed your ass to him, winking salaciously.

He stroked himself a little faster. A soft moan escaped his lips. “Darlin’, yer makin’ it real hard fer me to stay in control here.”

You glanced down at him. “I can see it’s real hard,” you said with a playful smirk.

“Oh, yer goin’ ta get it now,” he said, his grin becoming predatory as he climbed onto the bed. Grabbing the rest of your clothes, he pulled them from you, flinging them over his shoulder before flipping you onto your belly. He gripped your ass and squeezed hard before giving you a firm spank.

“Ooh!” you yelped. 

“You want more?” he asked as his hand soothed over his mark.

You could tell he was asking for permission. Turning back to him, you gave him your best pouty face. “Does Sir think I need more?”

Arthur looked immensely pleased with your response. “I think so,” he said, his voice deepening with a thread of command that turned you on beyond belief. He straddled your legs and rested one hand on the curve of your ass. “I told you, curiosity would get you in trouble.”

He spanked you hard once more. “That’s fer sneakin’ glances into my room,” he said. He gave you three more swipes, each in slightly different areas so you wouldn’t get too sore. Then he grabbed your ass with both hands and massaged your muscles, spreading you open as he thrust his cock along the cleft of your rear.

“Yer so obedient, sweetheart,” he murmured as his hips rocked, his eyes fluttering shut for a few moments. Then with his strong grip, he manhandled you onto your back, wrapping his big hands around you and pulling you into his arms. He cradled you for a sweet, gentle moment before rolling you around like you were as light as a pillow before setting you back down onto the mattress. He leaned over you as he reached for the nightstand, pulling out a condom. You watched him slip it on, but he didn’t move to enter you. Instead, he reached down and began to stroke you as he loomed above, watching your reactions.

You moaned and writhed under his deliberate exploration. His hands traveled languidly along every inch of you. When he found a sensitive area that elicited a soft noise of pleasure from you, he lingered, making you whimper and lean into his touch. He finally touched you lower, where you longed for his attention, but to your frustration he continued his study at the same leisurely pace. Soon his strokes became faster and he pressed harder against you. His eyes nearly glowed as he watched you lift your hips towards his hands, imploring him for more. Using his new knowledge to his advantage, he brought you to the brink and then shifted his touch elsewhere, making you cool off before working you back up again until you were going insane with need.

“Please, please Arthur, I need to come,” you begged.

He only smiled as he slipped a finger inside of you. He slowly worked you open enough for two of his fingers, then three. Soon he was dragging you to the edge again, and you hadn’t even had his cock. You were feeling like you were being denied the thing you wanted most.

“Arthur,” you whispered, “I want your cock.”

“Louder, darlin’.”

“I want your cock!”

“And what do you want me to do with it?”

“Fuck me!”

“Say it again. All of it.”

“Fuck me with your cock!”

His smile was wolfish, satisfied that he had heard you beg for your desire. Pressing the head of his shaft against your opening, he pushed, easing his way inside of you.

You were right. He was big, long, and oh so thick. He stretched you deliciously, and you keened softly as he took you, claimed you, made you his in the most carnal of ways. He reached up and slipped his hand under your head, gripping your hair at the base and pulling slightly. 

“Eyes on me, darlin’. I want to see you while I’m takin’ you,” he murmured.

You couldn’t look away from him. His look was intense, as if he commanded your entire being, your body his to use for his pleasure. And you willingly gave it to him, letting him sheathe his entire length inside of you. He held you still while your body adjusted to his claim, watching you with an almost proud expression.

“Good li’l darlin’,” he said as he leaned over. He kissed you gently on the lips, then on the forehead, and as if he was overcome with affection for you, peppered kisses along the curve of your cheek and down your neck.

“I’m goin’ to fuck you now,” he whispered into your ear. “You tell me to slow if it’s too much for ya, alright?”

You nodded, sure that whatever he was about to do to you, you could handle it.

He lifted himself up onto his forearms, his hands framing your face. “You look so damn cute,” he murmured before his hips slowly pulled back. “So fuckable.”

Arthur slammed his cock deep inside of you with one forceful stroke. He immediately looked down at you when you let out a cry of surprise. He waited, quietly checking in.

“More,” you whispered.

You thought you saw relief cross his features before he gave you a teasing smirk. “Ask me nicely and I just might give it to ya.”

“Please sir,” you begged, “I need more.”

Arthur gave you a single nod before rocking his hips, building you up slowly, his gaze nearly burning a hole into you with their intensity. As your body stretched and accommodated him, you clawed at his arms, greedily clamoring for him to speed up. He let out a feral growl before wrapping a big, rough hand around your neck, his other hand gripping your leg and spreading you wider for him. 

"You think you can take more, darlin'?" 

You looked up at him and smiled a challenge. 

He began a ferocious pace, angling himself to take you as deep as he could go. All you could focus on was the impact of his body against yours, his thick shaft filling you over and over, unrelenting as a tidal wave.

Soon he let go of your neck so he could sit up and grip your hips with both of his hands. He was fucking the breath out of you with each hard thrust, the sound of his hips slamming against yours filling the room with a lewd rhythm, intertwined with your breathy cries and his low moans of pleasure.

He reached down and stroked you, his touch rough and vigorous, matching the way he was ravaging you in a haze of lust. You could feel yourself sprinting towards that delicious finish line. The end was in sight as your hips jerked wildly, your legs wrapping around Arthur as he thrust even harder and deeper than before. 

"Come fer me," he murmured. "I want to feel you lose yerself around my cock."

You screamed as his words broke the dam that was holding back a torrent of pleasure, your climax tearing through your body at breakneck speed. Your legs stiffened, your toes curled, and your fingers dug into his very muscled biceps as you came harder than you ever had. You shook with aftershocks as Arthur continued to thrust, his hands letting go of your hips as he fell upon his forearms, caging you in as he chased his pleasure. 

"Fuck sweetheart, I'm comin'," he moaned before he buried his head into the crook of your neck. He gave three more erratic thrusts, then nearly crushed you with his weight as he pressed his hips against yours, keeping himself inside of you for as long as he could. 

A breathless moment passed, the two of you trying to catch that elusive breath. Arthur rolled off of you, quickly gathering you into his arms as he tumbled onto his side. 

"Goddamn," he finally muttered. "Wasn't expectin' to have such good company."

You turned in his arms so you could see the wide grin on his face. "For once, I'm glad I got lost in the parking lot."

He kissed your forehead. "Me too, darlin'. But let's make sure we don't get lost again." He found your hands under the covers, brought them up to his lips, and kissed your fingertips. 

"After all, I only just found you, my li'l darlin'."

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

End Notes: Been a while, and of course, all of my pent-up lust just came streaming out of me in a flurry of words and phrases. Hope it’s still hot enough for you, my lovely readers!

[marvelouspeterparker]

teacher!tom

pairing: teacher!tom x teacher!reader

summary: your colleague is insufferable, really. the way he’s so cocky, so lenient with his students, so nonchalant, so attractive with no effort whatsoever––you hate him, really.  

warnings: smut near the end + this is really long fyi 

notes: this literally came out of nowhere, i thought about it before i fell asleep last night and luckily i remembered it today. i was kinda hesitant to write it out and post it but here we are! 

leave feedback :)

so you and tom get your jobs as high school teachers at the same time

you first meet during the training sessions during the summer before the semester started

and you immediately can’t stand him

he just––

he’s too much

with his charming accent

and his smile

and his perfect hair

how does someone look good with both gelled hair and messy hair?

when you had to spend too much time making sure you looked good every morning

it was unfair

some days he shows up in fancy clothes

a button down and pants

maybe even a trench coat

some days a leather jacket and oh how you hate that leather jacket and hoodie combo

it’s not professional in the slightest yet he still manages to pull it off

he even shows up to school in sweats

how? you have no idea

he manages to charm literally everyone 

from the students (including yours, thank you very much), the lunch ladies, even the principal for christ’s sake

all the girls love him, they swoon over him every day

you see how your girls brighten up whenever he strolls into your class to bother you 

he lets his classes watch movies way too often

he hasn’t even done some of the reading for his assignments he’s handed out

he constantly shows up to your classroom for the sole purpose of teasing you

‘looking as beautiful as ever, y/n’

you turn to look at him, a deadpan expression on your face, ‘some of us have actual work to do thomas, so if you would please leave––’

he interrupts you with a gasp, bringing his hand to his chest and he gapes at you, ‘how rude’ but you can tell by the look in his eyes that he’s not actually offended

you constantly have to physically shove him out of the class

and every time he just laughs, obviously enjoying himself, only pissing you off even more

he takes every opportunity he can to bother you

like when he interrupts your class, a cheeky smile on his face as he opens the door

‘sorry to bother you, ms. y/l/n’

you both know he absolutely is not

he turns to the students and waves like he’s a goddamn celebrity and they all swoon, and you roll your eyes

‘mr. holland,’ you see his eyes,, darken? at the sound of you saying his last name but you brush it off, ‘to what do i owe this displeasure?’

his usual smirk is plastered back on his face, ‘well i just needed to borrow a marker, love.’ 

you try not to let the nickname have an effect on you, especially when you hear your students perk up at the name as well

‘you know you could have just asked a student to come over here, right.’

he turns to your class playfully, ‘does she treat you lot like a bunch of servants?’ 

they laugh and you sigh, exasperated but somewhat amused, making him turn back to you

‘you don’t even use the white board in your class.’

he shrugs easily, ‘well today i am.’

and your students are loving the banter between you two

they all ship you and they’ve told you multiple times

tom’s students have done the same to him as well

you roll your eyes for what feels like the fifteenth time and nod your head to the tray under the board where all the markers are and he doesn’t move a muscle, he even dares to lean against the doorframe

‘well how am i supposed to know which one you don’t mind me taking?’

you glare at him and walk over to the board, picking up a random marker and throwing it his way

he catches it easily and slides out of the classroom and you can hear the grin in his voice as he walks off, ‘cheers, love.’

you just go back to teaching your class, ignoring some of the knowing stares your students are throwing your way

after class you go over to his class to see what was so important that he needed to get one of your markers 

you walk right in because of course his door is wide open

...he wrote the date

that’s it.

he looks up from his phone to see you standing there and he straightens up, his eyes widening slightly as he sets his phone down

‘uh’ he scratches the back of his head, ‘i erased it all, obviously’

you narrow your eyes at him, obviously not buying it

‘i can assure you we took the most intensive notes you’ve ever seen’ 

you laugh and walk out of the class, ‘yeah and i’m the pope.’

he smiles, shaking his head slightly as he watches you walk away

sometimes when you’re walking in the hallway, he somehow finds you, easily sliding up next to you

‘you following me?’

‘tom you came up to me.’

‘nonsense, really.’

sometimes during lunch, he’ll stop by your classroom if you’re not in the cafeteria

and you’re too bothered and hungry to kick him out

so you both just eat and “enjoy” each other’s company

he’ll make small talk with you and it’s actually not that bad

you share an office with him and the other teachers in your department 

your desks are right next to each other, because apparently whoever’s in charge of your life just isn’t on your side

he tends to look over at whatever you’re doing

‘geez darling, you really are a harsh grader...’

you look up at him, and back to the sheet, offended

‘no i am not! i’m checking the answer sheet and this is simply not correct––’

you plan on defending yourself further but then you see him trying to hold in his laughter and realize he’s just teasing you

you look back to your paper, hiding your smile, ‘ha ha. very funny tom.’

sometimes he’ll even roll his chair over and lean on your desk

you look over at him hesitantly, ‘do you need something?’

he just smiles lazily, ‘oh don’t mind me, just enjoying the view.’

you brush him off and try to ignore the fluttering feeling you get in your stomach

you’re with your other colleagues one day on lunch break, 

luckily tom hasn’t decided to torture you that day

and they ask

‘so you and holland gone on a date yet?’

and you choke on your food

and the other one goes ‘or have you at least fucked––’

and you properly choke on your drink this time

when you finally calm down, they don’t even try to hide their smiles

‘what are you talking about?’

‘oh come on’

‘you can’t be serious’

when you look at them like they’re crazy their smiles drop

‘oh so you’re either stupid or oblivious’

‘hey!’

‘i mean come on, the way he looks at you––’

‘his teasing’

‘his comments’

‘we don’t like each other, he’s insufferable...’ you say but it really sounds like you’re trying to convince yourself

‘you know we don’t even have any policies on that stuff, sooo...you could if you wanted to.’

when you don’t reply, they go on,

‘so you don’t think he’s attractive at least?’

you roll your eyes, ‘don’t be stupid, i’ve seen him before, and he knows he’s attractive which is the worst part––’

and you get interrupted by a very annoyingly familiar british voice

‘who’s attractive, darling?’ he slides in and takes a seat next to you and your friends can’t help but smile knowingly at each other

you send them warning glares and they ignore you

he sends them a charming smile, ‘hello ladies’

their soft, completely charmed responses make you gag

and tom can’t help but shove your arm playfully, ‘play nice, darling.’

‘can i help you with anything?’

‘just wanted to say hello to my favorite colleague,’ he turns to your friends, ‘and her lovely friends, of course.’ 

you roll your eyes, ‘isn’t harrison your favorite?’ you ask, bringing up the pe teacher he’s always with

he was a nice guy really, you’d talked with him a few times, he was always making jokes

he brings a finger up to his lips, ‘shh’ he winks, ‘don’t tell him.’

eventually he leaves you alone with a promise to stop by your class again before the day’s over  

you respond with a ‘there’s really no need!’ 

and he turns back to face you as walks out, ‘sorry! can’t hear you anymore!’

you look back at your friends and they’re giving you a ‘really, bitch.’ look and you can’t help but shrink in your seat a little bit, lost in thought

‘does he really like me?’

‘do i really like him?’

you try to push it aside and focus on your work for the time being after that––you are at work, after all

when parent teacher conferences come around tom obviously finds a way to sneak into your classroom before they start

you hate to say it but your breath hitches and your gaze lingers a little too long on the way his arms strain in his tight shirt, the part of his collarbone you can see peeking past his slightly unbuttoned top, the shiny watch on his wrist, his hands––

‘well you somehow managed to look even more beautiful than you always do, love. can’t say i’m surprised.’

you look down at the dress and heels you’d changed into after class ended, suddenly feeling undressed under his gaze

‘um thank you. you look good too.’

he seems taken aback for a second, and is he blushing?

‘thanks, love.’ 

he puts his hands in his pockets, a casual smile on his face, ‘so are you ready for the next five hours of forced social interaction?’

‘no but i have to be,’ you sighed. ‘i’m sure you’re fine though, you’re a people person.’

‘what can i say, people love me.’

‘alright,’ you say getting up, you don’t know what comes over you but you place your hands on his chest gently, ‘we have like’ you glance at the clock ‘two minutes so,’ you look up at him and the look in his eyes knocks you breathless

‘off you go...’ you trail of softly

his hands come up to hold you wrists gently, his thumbs caressing the skin, a soft look in his eyes,

‘if you say so, darling.’

it feels like time stopped but a knock on your door reminds you where you are and what you have to do

your hands hesitantly slide down his chest and back to your side and he sighs at the feeling, unwillingly letting you go

‘looks like my first parent is here.’

he backs away slowly, blinking out of the daze you both seemed to be in, ‘right, i––good luck, love.’

you reply quietly, ‘same to you.’ 

and so you introduce yourself to the first parent and go about your night

when you have a small ten minute window, you go to the bathroom and when you come back you find a small cup of coffee on your desk, just the way you like

there’s a sticky note next to it and you can’t help but smile when you read it

‘thought you might need this. knock em dead, darling. you’ve got this. :)’

when you’ve finally said goodbye to your last pair of parents, many long hours later, you prop your door open and take a seat again

it’s not long before you hear a knock at the door, you turn to see tom strolling in, two bottles of water in his hand

yes one hand, you tried very hard not to think about it too much, especially not about the way his fingers wrapped around the––

‘here you go, love.’ he hands you a bottle and you thank him as he sits down in the seat across from you where the parents were sitting all night

‘so how was that for you? first parent teacher conference done.’ he sips his water and you try not to focus on the way his throat bobs when he swallows the sips

‘i think it went well, they were all really nice, honestly. how was it for you?’

‘great, i mean it was honestly kind of fun, but now i’m exhausted’

you nodded in agreement, ‘oh! thank you for the coffee by the way, i––i really appreciated it.’ you give him a small smile

he returns one back to you, ‘of course, love.’

you can’t help but ask, ‘so do you just do this for everyone?’

he furrows his brows in confusion and you continue, totally disregarding the fact that he looks really cute when he’s confused

‘the coffee, the water, the nicknames...’ you trail off

he lets out a small chuckle, ‘i will admit i am a charmer––’ he looks into your eyes, ‘but i promise it’s just you. you’re...’ he trails off for a bit, ‘different.’ 

he can see you’re unsure about how to take that, ‘in a good way,’ he clarifies, ‘a really good way.’ he smiles

you lick your lips nervously, ‘well that’s...good. i––yeah that’s nice.’

you mentally curse at yourself, really? nice? my god––

luckily he lets it slide and soon enough the both of you get dressed and he’s walking you outside to your car

you both say goodnight and once you’ve driven off, tom gets in his car and heads home too

when the winter formal comes along, everyone is very excited, people are asking each other out, and all that fun stuff

being a teacher, you get to hear all the gossip in your class and in the halls and it’s honestly quite entertaining

‘now you didn’t hear this from me,’ you pause for dramatic effect while tom tries his best but fails to hide his endeared smile. he leans in over his lunch, ‘but apparently sarah lewis, the blonde girl in my class?’ you pause to make sure tom knows who you’re talking about

when he nods you go on 

‘thought that david––’

‘is that the bloke on the football team?’

‘yes, him. she thought he was going to ask her to the formal, right?’

‘yeah i mean i’ve seen them flirting in the hallways, only makes sense.’

you shake your head in sympathy for the poor girl and his mouth drops, ‘no––’

‘yes... he asked her best friend instead.’

tom sits back in his seat, ‘that fucker––’

‘tom!’ you laugh, though you really shouldn’t, these were students for christ’s sake.

‘what? come on, he deserves it, the player.’

you nod, ‘yeah i guess he does.’

you both laugh and when it dies down, he speaks up again,

‘speaking of the formal,’ you perk up and try your best to seem nonchalant as you look up at him.

he’s looking down at his food nervously, as if it’s the most interesting thing in the world. 

he clears his throat and looks up at you, his eyes vulnerable, ‘will you be uh, chaperoning?’

you swallow, weirdly nervous all of a sudden, ‘yeah,’ you tilt your head slightly and tom almost combusts at how cute you look, ‘will you?’

he snaps out of his reverie, ‘yeah! yeah i will.’ god he felt like he was back in high school again, this was ridiculous––

‘i guess i’ll see you there, then.’ you smile shyly.

he smiles back ‘yeah i guess i’ll see you too.’

tom shows up early to the dance, because he’s a nerd––he’d even put on his nice shoes, his extra shiny watch and gelled his hair for an extra ten minutes to make sure he looked good

he was hoping to catch you before everyone started piling in, but unfortunately you were nowhere to be found

nonetheless he helped with last minute decorations and such and stood in the corner when the dance started, to make sure nobody died or anything on the dance floor

he was sipping his punch, totally not judging the students dance moves when he noticed you walk into the gym, a look of awe on your face as you looked at all the decorations and lights

and you––

you looked like a princess 

your dress was long and flowy and there was a slit (a perfectly appropriate one) on the side and when tom noticed that he just about choked on his drink 

you made your way around the room, saying hi to the other chaperones and some of your students as well

a lot of people wanted to talk to you, tom found out rather impatiently

but soon enough, you made your way towards him, near the punch

‘funny seeing you here, holland.’

he smiles, ‘likewise, love.’

you both go off near the side and start small talking

soon enough you’re making jokes, enjoying your time

‘i have to say i really am impressed with how this turned out, it looks great,’ you say, your eyes exploring the room

he hums, ‘not as good as the ones in london though.’

you turn to him, amused and intrigued, ‘oh yeah, why’s that?’

he leans in to whisper in your ear over the music, ‘cause we’re allowed to drink booze at our dances.’

you snort and roll your eyes

and he can’t help but feel his heart flutter in his chest at the way you laugh at him

he wanted you to be his so badly

after a few moments of scanning the crowd and doing your job, tom speaks up again

he holds his hand out and you look at it and back to him ‘may i have this dance?’

you can’t help the smile that makes it’s way to your lips, ‘aren’t we supposed to be working?’

‘we can watch and dance at the same time’ he responds, even though he knows once he has you in his arms he won’t be able to focus on anything else but you

you say fuck it and grab his hand

he grins and leads you to a spot on the dance floor after discarding your cups

his hands gingerly find their way to your waist and it’s cliché, truly

but you feel all tingly when he touches you and honestly it seems like he does too

you slide your hands up to his shoulders and he takes a deep breath

you start swaying slightly to the song

and now that you listen to it, it sounds a bit too sensual for a high school, dance. but anyway––

tom’s eyes are entranced by the way you’re glowing in the light and the way you’re looking up at him

your lips looks so soft and inviting

your eyes are shining

and that dress

meanwhile, he looks dashing as ever

his jawline, his hair looks so perfect––you really wanna pull on it and mess it up...

you slowly inch your way towards each other and soon enough, you’re so close that if you just tilted your head and pushed forward, you’d be kissing

realizing where you are, you both snap out of it slowly

and as a slow song comes on, you lean your head on his chest and he holds you close

you can hear and feel his heartbeat and it makes you smile

you sway together and you can tell there are some students and even staff members who are staring at you two

when the song is over you look up at each other and the tension is unbearable, and oh so thick

‘do you wanna––’

‘let’s––’

you both laugh, still holding each other

‘let’s go, darling’ he grabs your hand and leads you to grab your coats and your purse and then out to his car

before he opens the door he catches a glimpse of the way you’re looking at him with your bottom lip caught between your teeth, your eyes looking him up and he just loses it

he practically lunges towards you and you yelp when he attaches his lips to yours, immediately melting in his touch

one of his hands is cradling your cheek, while the other reclaims it’s spot on your waist, gripping you softly but firmly

without detaching his lips from yours, he turns you around and presses you against the door to his car and you gasp slightly into the kiss, making him smirk

you raise your leg up slowly, trailing your heel up the back of his leg and he groans as he presses himself into you 

you hear a group of teenagers shouting and laughing as they step out for a breath of fresh air and the two of you pull away from each other reluctantly, panting as you stare at each other as if you want to devour the other

and honestly––you do

he opens the door for you and tries to calm himself down when he shuts the door for you before walking over to his side and getting settled in his seat

he looks over at you and notices the way your clenching your thighs together, how your breaths are still heavy and he bites his lip, unable to look away from you

you break the silence

‘are we really about to fuck in your car?’

‘of course not,’ he looks offended, ‘for our first time together? absolutely not, i have more manners than that love.’ he pauses, ‘unless you want that?’

you can’t help but laugh, ‘take me home, tom’

your eyes widen slightly, realizing how domestic that sounded and you go to take it back but he interrupts you, placing his hand on your thigh

‘let’s go home’ a smile on his face as he pulls out of the parking lot

the whole drive to his place, his hand is gripping your thigh teasingly and you’re surprised you didn’t leave a wet spot on his seat when you got up

he opens the door for you and takes you up to his apartment, using all his self control not to take you right there in the elevator

when you get to his door, it takes him way too much effort to put the key through the hole

though he’s not drunk, it feels like he is when he’s around you

you’re absolutely intoxicating

your hands are rubbing all over his body as you hold him from behind, your face nuzzling into his back and he can barely focus

‘christ––’

as soon as you step inside his apartment, he locks the door and his lips are back on yours as you take your shoes off and hastily throw your jackets on the couch as you walk past the living room

once you get into his bedroom, he turns the bedside lamp on the lowest since he doesn’t want you to trip and fall over anything

you both quickly undress and tom stops you before you can take off your undergarments

‘let me,’ a cheeky look in his eyes as he does so

he turns you around and grazes his hands up and down your sides before bringing them behind you and unhooking your bra

he slides it down your arms teasingly slow and the silence in the room is deafening as you hear it drop to the floor

he steps closer to you, pressing his bare chest against your back and you hear him take in a breath as looks at your breasts

he brings his hands to your waist in a silent question

and you lean back in response

he takes the invitation and glides his hands up to grasp your breasts and your back arches, a soft sigh escaping your lips and he basks in the sound, wanting to hear it again

‘so pretty, darling’ he plays with your nipples and you whine, wanting to feel him already

‘tom––’

‘alright,’ you hear the smile in his voice before he turns you around

then he bends down all while keeping eye contact with you, kissing your skin as he makes his way down

then, this cheeky bastard, places his hands on your thighs, while he looks up at you with those innocent eyes and grasps the waistband of your panties with. his. teeth.

he drags them down oh so slowly down your legs and once they reach the bottom you kick them aside

he stands back up and you waste no time, smirking at him before you bend down, ‘my turn’ 

you get on your knees and drag your fingertips down his abs while you do so, relishing in the shivers he tries to contain

you hook your fingers into his briefs and pull them down, biting your lip at the way his cock is standing up proudly

you lick your lips as he steps out of his underwear, ‘is that all for me?’

he bites his lip, bringing a hand down to hold your cheek and you turn your head to kiss his palm

and how you managed to make that hot? he has no idea

‘of course it is, darling. it’s all yours’ he grabs his cock and starts stroking it slowly, hissing at the feeling

you quickly take control and he moans out loud when you lick along his base and put the tip in your mouth

you swirl your tongue around him and he swears he sees stars

‘you’re––christ, you’re making me forget my manners, love. i’m supposed to take care of you first.’

you roll your eyes, taking him out of your mouth while you keep stroking him with one hand and play with his balls in the other

‘you wanna make me happy right tommy?’ you bat your eyelashes and he twitches in your hand at the sight and the nickname

‘y–yeah’

‘then let me do this please? wanna make you feel good’

he nods entranced and you continue, putting your mouth back on him

sucking and bobbing your head as his eyes flutter shut and his head falls back

he gets lost in the pleasure and honestly almost blows his load unwillingly but he pulls you away and leads you to the bed

you climb on and get settled in the middle, enjoying the look in his eyes as he climbs after you like a predator eyeing its prey

his eyes lock in on his target and you close your legs teasingly as you look up at him

he shakes his head slightly at your antics, ‘ah ah, open up, pretty girl. i wanna see you.’ he nudges your thighs open with his hands and the feeling of his fingertips pressing into your skin send tingles all through your body, making your pussy clench around nothing

he looks between your thighs and back at you, ‘can i?’

you nod before he can even finish his sentence and he’s too eager to please you to make a joke about it

he lies down between your legs and wraps his arms around your thighs as he holds you in place and dives in

his tongue is slow and teasing as he licks through your folds

he’s making eye contact because of course he is

and you can’t look away, and neither can he 

you can tell he’s enjoying this and it makes it all the more enjoyable for you

he’s taking his time and savoring you, coaxing you to the edge 

your hands grip his curls, ‘i’ve been wanting to mess these up all night’ you admit

and he growls into your heat, speeding up his movements

he shakes his head and lets you grind into his face as he focuses on your clit

and soon enough your back is arching, your eyes shutting closed and your body tenses around him, your thighs holding him close

he licks you up through your high and when your thighs loosen around him, he kisses your clit and sits up, rubbing your thighs soothingly

you sit up and kiss him slowly, passionately, letting your tongues taste each other as you feel each other up

‘come here,’ he mumbles between kisses while he moves around

he lies down on the bed and you go to straddle him when he stops you

‘just a little bit higher, love.’

your eyes widen, ‘you want me to sit on your face––’

‘been dreaming about it for a while now actually. please darling?’ he gives you those puppy dog eyes of his 

and though you didn’t know if he meant metaphorically or literally, you decided to climb up, you’d figure it out later 

you settle down on top of his mouth and he pulls you down, immediately getting to work as he watches you through hooded eyes

you’re still sensitive from your previous orgasm so you feel yourself get close quickly as he sucks on your clit

you mewl and he hums into your heat, loving the reactions your giving him

when he feels you about to tip over the edge he grabs your ass and helps you grind on his face as he flattens out his tongue

your thighs close around his head for the second time that night and his cock throbs at the sight of you and the feel of you pulsing on his tongue

he licks you clean and leaves soft kisses on your thighs as you come to your senses again

you get off of him and switch places

he licks his lips as he reaches over for a condom and puts it on

he watches you breath deeply, the light coating of sweat on your chest glistening under the soft light, your wet pussy 

he strokes himself and lines up at your entrance, rubbing himself through your folds and teasing your clit

you can’t help but shiver and jolt at the feeling and he bites his lip, hiding his smile

‘you ready, darling?’ he asks, wanting to make sure you still want this

you nod, looking up at him and he slides in, bottoming out slowly

‘god you’re so wet for me––’

you can feel every inch as he enters you and your walls are so tight he’s sure he won’t last––just seeing you come already made him want to

he starts thrusting into you slowly, holding your thighs up as he moves his hips and the both of you let out a string of moans and curses

he hits the right spot inside of you and your eyes roll back as you whimper, your hands gripping his as they hold you open

‘always wanted to see how you roll your eyes while my cock’s inside you––’ he teases

you can’t even be bothered to reply with a witty comeback, he just feels too good

you wrap your arms and legs around him pushing him deeper inside you and he groans, his hands sliding down your body to rest on either side of you as he pounds you harder

‘god you feel so good angel’

your heart properly bursts at the new nickname, your limbs tightening around him as you turn and kiss his neck

he couldn’t help it, just watching you tonight at the dance and just now underneath him, it was the only name that seemed fitting

‘fuck, i’m close––’ he pants 

you perk up and clench around him, wanting to make him feel good

he curses into your neck and keeps pounding you, sliding a hand down to rub at your clit

you jolt underneath him, moaning breathlessly at the feeling of his soft fingers in comparison to his hard thrusts

he reaches his high first, his hand and his hips not stopping until he feels you convulse around him

‘fuck––’

‘oh god tommy––’

he crashes his lips against yours and grinds his hips into you as you settle down from your orgasms

after a few moments of you giving each other soft kisses here and there, tom pulls out of you

he goes to discard the condom and leads you to the bathroom to pee, giving you a kiss on your forehead as he leaves you to do your business

it all feels very mundane and home-like and just warm

when you’re done, tom has a glass of water for the both of you and you take a sip before getting into bed and under the covers with him

he opens his arms and lets you slide in next to him, resting your head on his chest, wrapping your arm around him as he holds you close

after a while of comfortable silence, he speaks up

‘i’ve been wanting to do this for a really long time, you know’ he says absentmindedly as his fingers trace patterns on your waist

you nuzzle into him, ‘yeah?’

he hums, ‘always found you beautiful’

you’re glad he can’t see how flustered his words make you, ‘mm i always found you insufferably hot’

he laughs and his chest vibrates under you

‘insufferably?’

‘you know how you are’ a teasing tone to your voice as you answer

‘fair enough’

after a small pause you speak up hesitantly, ‘so...what now?’

you can hear and feel him take a sharp inhale before he responds, ‘well i was hoping i could take you out soon? i know we’re doing this all backwards but––i’d love to call you mine if that’s alright?’

you smile, delighted by his response, ‘i’d like that a lot.’

you can hear the smile in his voice, ‘yeah?’

you laugh, ‘yeah’ you kiss his chest and he squeezes your waist in response

the two of you talk for a little bit more and soon enough you drift off to sleep

tom drives you back to school on saturday to pick up your car after he made you breakfast, of course

and honestly he wasn’t a bad chef, he’d apparently learned from his younger brother

and if that didn’t make you fall for him more, you don’t know what would

he leaves you with a kiss and makes sure to wait until you’ve pulled off safely to make his way back home

when you come back to school the next week, your friends quickly bombard you in your office and practically drag you into the hallway

‘so we noticed you left with mr. charming on saturday...’

‘and left your car here’ they wiggle their eyebrows suggestively and you can’t help but roll your eyes and laugh

just before you answer tom walks in and winks at you, a grin on his face, before stepping into the office

oh he so knew what you guys were talking about

your friends turn to each other immediately, 

‘oh they totally fucked’

‘definitely’

your eyes widen and you shush them aggressively

‘this is still a school you know??’ but you all fail to hide your laughter

‘so how was it?’ they ask

you turn to make sure no one’s listening and look back at them, biting your lip 

‘pretty fucking amazing’

they shout and cheer and you slap them playfully telling them to calm down

‘i’ll tell you more about it later, now shoo.’

you make your way back into the office, a playful and slightly embarrassed smile on your face as you feel tom’s eyes watching your every move

he scoots over next to you when you’ve settled in your seat and you can feel his minty, tea flavored breath tickling your neck ‘so did you tell them about how you sat on my––’

‘shut up!’ 

he cackles and slides his way back to his desk

you’re walking down the hallway later on when you bump into a familiar face

‘oh hi harrison’

he lights up when he sees you ‘haven’t spoken to you in ages, y/n how are you? heard you and tom finally got together, about time––he’s been moaning about you for months now’ 

you can’t help but smile knowingly at the fact that he’d told his friend all about it just like you did 

and speak of the devil, tom comes strolling in out of nowhere, and walks up to you and haz in the hallway

you can’t help the smirk on your face when you see him and he immediately knows something is up

‘what did this div tell you?’

and your smirk turns into a grin, ‘oh nothing, just how you’ve been obsessing over me for months now,’ the glint in your eyes brightens and tom turns to glare at his friend

‘right,’ harrison speaks up, laughing, ‘well i’ve got things to do, you know sports to coach or whatever so i’ll leave you to it!’ before running off

you get tom’s attention again, a teasing sing-song tone to your voice, ‘you’ve had a crush on me’

he smirks down at you, his hands sliding down to your waist, ‘don’t act like i didn’t see the way you would look at me, darling.’ he grabs your ass subtly, and you gasp as he presses you closer to him ‘we both had it bad.’

‘now be a good girl and get to class.’ he walks off leaving you there gaping like a fish, your cheeks heating up as students start crowding in 

‘thomas!’ 

[olivia-anderson-fanfic]

Into The Unknown, Part 10

First

Previous

Grocery store trips were weird. Tim had never taken them before, and now here he was buying food for the three of them regularly. He’d thought it would be harder, for some reason. But, no, it was just boring.

Tim rolled his eyes as Damian pointed to the nearest brightly colored object -- a bag of Not Cheetos… holy shit they were called Fritos this wasn’t allowed he has never been so vehemently against anything in his life.

He sighed as the baby yelled at him for the bag. This was his fault. He shouldn’t have gone in the chip aisle.

He looked down at the kid in front of him with an apologetic smile.

“No, kiddo. See, I would love to get that for you but, unfortunately, Mari said I can’t buy you any more random sweets. Blame her, not me.”

Damian was, apparently, too smart for his tricks because he banged his fist on the front of the cart and babbled at him angrily.

Tim sighed and leaned forward until his forehead touched the cool metal of the cart, thinking.

And then he got back up and handed the kid the bag of chips. Damian didn't know that it was food, Tim was pretty sure, and he had nothing against… ‘Fritos’ (outside of their name, obviously). So, why not? He could eat them. It was better than dealing with a tantrum in the middle of a store, at least.

Damian lit up and hugged the bag to his chest as if it was a soft stuffed animal and not a plastic bag filled with air and maybe a few chips.

Tim smiled faintly and pressed a kiss to the top of his head and then continued on his way, scanning over the list idly.

Oh. Marinette had added something. He squinted down at her messy scrawl, bringing it close to his face as if he could will the words to make sense.

And it worked. Ha. Take that everyone who didn’t believe in him.

Okay. So, she needed ‘pads’.

Sure. No problem.

He walked over to the aisle.

Hm. Okay. There might be a tiny little problem.

Why were there so many different brands? And sizes?

He stared around at them all helplessly. Sure, he had glimpsed the box a few times but he certainly hadn’t paid it much mind -- it wasn’t for him, why would he?! But now he was standing in an entire aisle full of products and there were way too many of them. And why did they all look the same? Shit!

He looked at Damian, who was biting the edge of the chip bag and giggling about the crinkling noises it made. But, once Tim turned his gaze on him, he looked up at him with wide eyes, attentive.

“Any chance you know what type Mari uses?” Tim joked softly.

Damian popped off the chip bag so he could babble at him. It was very helpful.

He considered, very briefly, just standing there in the aisle with the same helpless expression until some kind-hearted person took pity on him and he could avoid the embarrassment of calling Marinette at work to ask what types of pads she used… but, no, the idea of asking some random person for help was way worse. He had to just suck it up and do it.

He pulled out his phone and called Marinette. He was pretty sure it was lunchtime for her, anyways.

She picked up within a few rings, voice slightly muffled as she answered with a simple: “Problem?”

Tim didn’t know whether to be embarrassed or amused that her first thought when he called her was that something was wrong.

But he quickly alleviated her fears: “No, everything’s fine.”

He could hear the phone shift slightly as she assumedly went back to eating. “Right, then what is it?”

“Nothing bad, really…” Tim started awkwardly. His face reddened without his permission. “Just wanted to know what brand you used for, um, hygiene products.”

“... hyg --? Oh.” He heard her laugh at him and his face only reddened further. “What, the world's greatest detective couldn’t figure it out?”

“That’s my dad!” He mumbled a little huffily.

She snickered a little longer before finally saying: “I think the brand is called ‘Forever’ here.”

“See! You don’t even know!” He said even as he pulled down a box with the word written across it in elegant script.

“That’s because the name changed when --...” She seemed to remember she was at work -- or, at least, that there were other people around -- because she cut herself off suddenly before she could admit to being a dimension hopper in a world that likely wouldn’t even believe in the multiverse. “When… I switched brands! Yeah. Heh.”

(Tim swore he heard her mumble ‘technically not even a lie’ but he wasn’t quite sure.)

He started to put it in the basket but then he paused.

“There’s a lot of sizes.”

“Um… I think a four?”

“Yeah, no, they have letters here.”

“Fuck, right, hate that, um… D, I guess.”

He switched out the Cs he had gotten and smiled as Damian reached for him. He clearly wanted out of the cart -- Tim wondered, vaguely, if it was uncomfortable -- but that wasn’t going to happen so he decided to distract him:

“Want to talk to Mari, kiddo?”

The kid blinked up at him a few times before lighting up. “Mar-ree!”

He pressed the phone to Damian’s ear with one hand until the kid took it himself and then motioned for him to go ahead. “Takalam maeaha.”

“... marhaba?” Damian said, giving Tim a look that seemed to scream ‘you’re weird for making me talk into a box’.

Marinette must have said something back, because the kid’s eyes went wide. Damian looked around wildly for a few moments, clearly trying to figure out where Marinette was, before he realized that her voice was coming from the box. He gasped a little and pressed the phone against his ear even harder and started to ‘talk’ to her. It was a weird mix of Arabic and a few English syllables thrown together haphazardly, Tim was just glad he was learning.

Tim started on his way through the store again, sure he wasn’t going to get his phone back anytime soon.

He’d gotten all the necessities and they had money left in the weekly budget...

He headed to the kid’s aisle, head tipping from side to side as he considered what to get. Maybe a new book? Damian had taken a liking to them, though Tim was pretty sure that was more because he thought the English language sounded kind of funny rather than any real passion for stories.

He picked up a book about letters and looked down at Damian. He sounded annoyed now.

He looked at Tim with an annoyed expression and shook Tim’s poor phones a few times. “Mar-ree!”

Ah. She must have hung up because her break was over.

How was he supposed to explain how phones worked to a baby? Especially since he knew phones so intimately thanks to his time working on the model he was using.

He gently pulled the phone from the kid’s hands. “Mari’s at work. You can see her later.”

“Bu…” Damian pouted.

Damn it. How dare the kid be cute? Tim was about five seconds away from walking to Marinette’s job so the kid would smile again.

He hesitated before reaching behind himself and grabbing the first soft thing his hands landed on. He pulled it out and squinted at the stuffed cat. It was cute, he supposed, but he didn’t know why it was rainbow-colored.

Whatever.

He offered the plush to Damian and the kid seemed to instantly forget about the phone.

(And the chips. But the kid had put it in his mouth so it looked like Tim was buying that anyway.)

He pressed a kid to the top of his head and then continued on his way.

… and that was when he heard it:

Haha, someone got called a DILF.

… wait a minute… he was the only person with a kid around here…

His head whipped around so fast he would have gotten whiplash if he was old -- which he wasn’t -- to see two girls in their mid teens. And they were definitely looking at him. They even tried to hide behind the next aisle in order to avoid his gaze once they realized he had heard them.

Tim didn’t know what to do about this. Someone had actually called him...

He was 19! He couldn’t be that yet! How?! No!

And, sure, the logical part of him knew they were technically right. He was attractive (he hoped) and, when it came to the ‘dad’ thing… if Damian never got his memories back, then Tim would pretty much be the only dad that he had ever known. He would be a dad.

But, again, he was 19-years-old, he didn’t want to think about this.

So, to ward off the impending crisis, he looked around the aisle he was in wildly for some kind of ‘kid’ thing.

He found some marshmallow guns and grabbed two. Then he got some marshmallows because those weren’t included for some reason. Whatever.

He looked down at the basket, aware that he was now over budget, and eventually decided to put back the book. Who needs to learn?

(Besides, if Damian really wanted to just hear people talk, Tim could totally do that. He had so many random facts in his head thanks to random rabbit holes he had gone down while sleep-deprived, he could just rant about those if the kid wanted.)

So, he checked out, loaded up with all the bags and the baby, and started walking home.

… he was totally going to learn to drive. Even if Gotham streets were safer -- especially when he had a baby on him -- it was a pain to carry all the groceries even the few blocks to their apartment. Literally. The bags dug into his skin. He swore he could taste blood.

But he had an end goal in sight, so he went faster than usual that day.

He set up the guns, leaving Marinette’s on the kitchen table and then took a seat on the couch with Damian. They spent the few remaining hours playing games (Tim was pretty sure, he had absolutely no clue what Damian was saying but the kid seemed to have fun and that was all that mattered) and watching TV.

Tim heard his door click and looked up.

He quickly reached for the marshmallow gun and turned to point it at the door.

Damian watched him in silence, perfectly still as if he understood that this was something that they needed to be quiet for.

Usually, this kind of worried Tim. They always gave Damian to Kaalki and Tikki when they sparred, but Damian had always been… shockingly well-behaved? Not in the good way, either, he was far too still and quiet. Tim was starting to suspect that, at the very least, the kid remembered the first year of his life in the League. He hoped that the trauma would fade away with time. Kids forget things that they experienced as babies when they grew older, Tim himself couldn’t remember anything from before he was three, so hopefully this would be the same.

… but he really wanted to get Marinette with a marshmallow gun. So, he swallowed down the slight bit of anxiety rising in his chest and looked through the scope as Marinette finally managed to open the finicky door.

Damian’s eyes widened and he made a quiet ‘ah!’ sound.

Tim jumped at the sudden sound and pulled the trigger. The marshmallow gun made a fmpf sound as it fired off the shot.

The marshmallow bounced off of Marinette’s forehead harmlessly. Because, y’know, it was a marshmallow.

She blinked a few times and then knelt down to pick up the fallen marshmallow. She scanned it over a few times, eyes narrowed.

Tim hardly paid attention to her, looking over at Damian. The kid looked very confused, eyes darting between the gun and Marinette and the marshmallow on the floor repeatedly as if he wasn’t sure what he was seeing.

And then he flopped back on the sofa with a quiet whimpering sound.

Marinette and Tim frowned at each other. He could see confusion and concern knitting her eyebrows together, meanwhile all he had was dread coiling itself in his gut. Because… what if Damian did remember his first year with the League? Or, even worse, what if he would slowly regain all his memories? No kid deserved that...

Tim felt something hit the side of his head, snapping him out of his daze. Oh. Marinette had grabbed the other gun and promptly gotten her revenge.

Damian didn’t see this, at least, just staring at the ceiling with wide eyes.

Marinette sat on Damian’s other side, gently picking him up and nuzzling her nose against his cheek. Then, she sat him back down between them, sidling close so the kid could curl into her side. Tim, after a few seconds, scooted closer as well.

“Want some marshmallows? They’re yummy,” she tried hesitantly.

She shot one into her hand and, after tearing it in half just in case, handed it to Damian.

The kid took a hesitant bite, still looking a little put out, but then he gasped a little. He happily chewed away at the marshmallow, the event easily wiped from his mind in favor of the yummy thing in his hand.

Tim sighed in relief, reaching behind himself for the marshmallow bag so they wouldn’t have to shoot any more. Just in case.

“Quick thinking,” he said, which was kind of a compliment if you squinted.

She smiled and leaned over to press a kiss to his cheek. “It’s what I’m known for.”

There was a few seconds before she sighed just a little, gently combing her fingers through Damian’s hair. The kid reached out and gripped Tim’s shirt in his hand, surely getting it messed up thanks to the marshmallow on his hands but whatever, and tried to tug him closer. He obliged. Marinette rested her head on his shoulder absently.

“What would I do without you?” He mused.

“Probably starve on the streets,” she said bluntly.

He scoffed a little. “The minute this kid goes to sleep I’m going to shoot another marshmallow at you.”

“You can try. Only reason you even got me last time was ‘cause I didn’t know you were going to do it.”

“The element of surprise is a totally valid tactic!” He pretended to whine.

She grinned at him. “But it won’t work again.”

He wrapped an arm around her lazily. “We’ll see.”

~~~~~

Next

@unoriginalmess @hammalammadamdam @astrynyx @laurcad123 @927roses-and-stuff

[daniclaytcn]

there ain’t nothing common about us

a/n: some much needed comfort after all the hurt the fandom has put itself through this past week :)

aO3

title courtesy of @malikjavaddzayn, thank goodness she isn't as indecisive as i am!

tagging some people who may be interested: @evaneddie @diazalex @buttercupbuck @diazseddie @firefighter-diaz (please let me know if you'd like to be added/removed from my tag list!)

When Eddie wakes, it is violently and with a tortured gasp as he abruptly sits up in bed, the sheets tangled around him. He covers his face with his left hand for a moment, breathing heavily, fighting back the sobs that threaten to spring free, his body shaking like a leaf.

It isn’t the first time he’s woken up like since he was discharged from the hospital with a sling around his right shoulder and an acute sense of fear and paranoia that followed him even into the safety of his own home. It has been almost a month, but the nightmares wake Eddie almost every night, varying in degrees of severity. The first two weeks were the worst, reaching the peak when he screamed in his sleep loud enough to wake Christopher, leaving the boy shaken and terrified.

Eddie put Chris into therapy the next day, and started working on waking himself up before the nightmares could get out of hand. The last thing he wants to do his traumatize his son even more than he already is, Chris has been through far too much at such a young age.

The dreams seem to blend together most of the time, memories of Afghanistan and the shooting, making the lines between the two blurry and unrecognizable. Sometimes, he’ll see the bodies of his fellow soldiers scattered around him on a sunny street in LA. And other times, he’s in the inky-black darkness of the desert, reaching out for Buck, who seems impossibly far away, covered with sand and blood.

Swinging his legs over the side of the bed, Eddie reaches for his phone, wincing as the movement jostles his right shoulder. It’s 2 AM. Wonderful.

He tiptoes down the hallway to Chris’ room, cracking the door open just enough to see the shape of his son under the covers, sleeping peacefully. The sight makes something settle in his chest, the something that has been left askew after every single nightmare. He is here. He is safe. Christopher is safe. He didn’t leave him (again). They’ll be alright, eventually.

How pathetic is it that even after a month, he still needs to remind himself of it almost daily?

Eddie returns to his room and sits back down on his bed, leaning against the headboard as he feels a wave of bone-deep exhaustion wash over him. Between the PT and Chris’ therapy and occasional nightmares and his own nightmares, Eddie needs all the rest he can get. But he never can go back to sleep after waking up from an episode and. Well.

Maybe he should start going back to therapy, too. Eddie knows he’ll have to, eventually, to be cleared for duty. But before that, he still needs to get himself together. For Chris’ sake, if nothing else. He just—he can’t stand the thought of talking to some stranger about what happened, though. The only person he has been able to talk to so far is Buck.

Buck. He’s been a rock throughout this whole process, the entirety of the 118 has, really. Buck, though? He’s just been around, somehow more entwined in their lives than before, cooking meals, helping out Eddie with chores around the house, watching Chris when Eddie needs his rest. And coming from anyone else, it would make Eddie bristle, would make him protest that he doesn’t need all this extra help, to be treated like an invalid, but it never feels like that with Buck. Never has. He’s just…there, sometimes spending more time in Eddie’s house than his own apartment, putting up with Eddie’s occasional bursts of temper on harder days. He doesn’t allow Eddie to push him away, and Eddie thinks there’s nothing more he is grateful for, really.

Eddie is dialing Buck’s number before he can stop himself. While the two of them have talked about the incident, briefly, Eddie has never told him about the nightmares. He knows Buck blames himself, still, because he has a guilt complex possibly larger than Eddie’s own and Eddie…Eddie doesn’t want to be a burden. He should be able to deal with this himself. He did deal with it alone, after returning from Afghanistan. Why is this time so different?

Buck answers on the third ring. “Hey,” He doesn’t sound surprised or panicked at receiving a late-night call from Eddie. He doesn’t even sound like he’s been startled out of sleep, but Eddie feels the need to apologize anyway.

“I’m sorry for waking you,” He says, guilt feeling like lead in his stomach.

“It’s alright, I wasn’t asleep,” Buck says and before Eddie can wonder why, he’s asking, “Is everything alright?”

Eddie opens his mouth to answer and nothing comes out. He feels frustrated tears prick at his eyes and he exhales deeply, trying to hold them in.

“Eddie?” Buck sounds more concerned now, and Eddie can hear a rustling noise, like he’s sitting up.

“Sorry, yeah,” Eddie manages to get out, wondering if his voice sounds as wrecked to Buck as it does to him. “I, um—” Might as well just rip the bandage off and get it over with. “Nightmares.” He says, finally.

“I’m sorry,” Buck says, his voice taking on a softer, consoling lilt. He doesn’t sound surprised. Eddie doesn’t know why he expected him to be.

“It’s just—” Eddie breathes out harshly, gripping the phone harder. “I just can’t fucking sleep. It’s almost every night, I just keep reliving that day over and over and it never stops and I should be over it by now, right? And I should be able to hold it together, for Chris, he deserves so much better, but—God. It’s too much.”

“Have you considered going back to see Frank?” Buck asks, carefully. Eddie sighs.

“I did. I mean, it’s the right thing to do, isn’t it? I need to get better, and Chris—”

“But this isn’t about Chris, Eddie,” Buck interrupts, almost sharply. “You should want to get better for yourself, too. I mean, you were shot. In broad daylight, with zero warning—” he cuts himself off for a moment and Eddie can hear him exhale roughly over the line. “No one expects you to just bounce back. Trauma doesn’t exactly have a time limit, you know. You need to do what’s best for you.”

And Eddie can suddenly remember Carla’s words in that moment—Make sure you’re following your heart instead of Christopher’s—and wants to laugh hysterically at the irony of it. He knew then that Carla had a point—it’s why he broke up with Ana—and he knows that Buck has a point, too. But it isn’t as easy as it sounds.

“I’m not sure I know how.” He confesses.

“I know,” Buck says, softly, and sighs. “You always put Chris first, Eddie, that’s who you are, and that’s why I—”

Eddie holds his breath for a second. He isn’t sure what he’s expecting.

“Anyway,” Buck says, after too long a pause and Eddie deflates slightly. “You’re important too, Eddie. I wish you could see that. I wish you could—you could see yourself the way I see you.”

And how do you see me? Eddie wants to ask, but doesn’t dare. Things have changed since the shooting—there’s no way they couldn’t—and he feels like he and Buck have been hovering on the edge of a precipice, something electric and alien sparking between them. There isn’t a word for it, and neither of them have done anything about it. They’re really not in any state to do so. But lord, is Eddie tempted, sometimes.

“Why were you awake, anyway?” Eddie asks, wanting to break the thick tension that has suddenly formed. Buck sighs, like he was afraid he would ask.

“Nightmares,” He says, clearly trying to sound casual, but a waver in his voice gives him away.

Eddie’s chest clenches. “I’m sorry.”

Buck lets out a wet-sounding chuckles and Eddie hates the idea of it, him having nightmares all alone in that apartment. “Only you would apologize for getting shot, Eddie.”

“Come over,” Eddie says, before he can stop himself. “I know it’s late, but—I don’t think either of us should be alone right now.”

There’s a lengthy pause and Eddie almost wants to take it back but Buck, mercifully, speaks. “Are you sure you want me there?”

“Yes.” Is what Eddie says. I always want you here, is what he doesn’t dare to say.

Buck pauses again. Then—

“I’m on my way.”

Eddie turns off his phone and waits in the darkness for Buck to arrive. The moment he hears the key turn in the lock, he exhales a relieved breath and manages to smile when Buck appears in the doorway of the bedroom, hovering hesitantly, as though he expects that now he’s here, Eddie will change his mind and kick him out.

Eddie tries to sound exasperated, but it comes out sounding fond. “Buck, I really hope you didn’t come all the way here in the middle of the night just to crash on the couch.”

That makes him laugh and eases some of the tension from his shoulders. Kicking off his shoes, Buck moves over to the other side of the bed and lays down over the covers on his side, facing Eddie.

It should be uncomfortable, this level of intense intimacy that hasn’t been present in their relationship before. But right now, Eddie feels the most comfortable and relaxed he has in a while and he can only hope that Buck feels the same way, too. He reaches out, a little tentatively, to take Buck’s hand in his.

The other man stiffens slightly and he looks at Eddie with something like wonder in his eyes.

“Don’t make this weird, Buck,” Eddie murmurs, hoping to break some of the tension. It works, and Buck lets out a startled chuckle.

“God, you’re such an asshole.” But he complies, slotting his fingers through Eddie’s and squeezing tight. Eddie can remember him doing it in the firetruck on the way to the hospital and he swallows. He’s glad he has a better memory to replace that with.

Eddie closes his eyes, feeling a hazy, soft, sort of comfort settle into his bones, with Buck’s touch and just him, there, so close by. He can’t help but wonder why it took them so long, to give each other the comfort they each need.

“Buck?” He murmurs, without opening his eyes. Buck hums in reply. It feels strangely domestic and makes Eddie’s heart beat a little faster.

“I think I will go to see Frank,” He says. “But for myself, this time.”

Eddie can’t see Buck’s face when he replies, but can hear it, the tender, proud smile in his voice. “I’m so glad, Eddie.” He says, his voice cracking a little bit.

If Buck says anything after that, Eddie can’t hear it, as sleep pulls him under into the most restful night he’s had yet. And when he wakes in the morning, Buck curled around him, his face peaceful and serene in the golden sunlight, Eddie can revel in the fact that the feeling was mutual.

[lucyintheskywithxanax]

Taut (nsfw)

Pairing: Wilhemina Venable x Fem Reader

A/N: also called “Fantastic Smut and Where to Find it” as suggested by someone who shall remain nameless. Alright you guys, so I was like, let’s try and write smut. And then I was like, today is Sunday the day of our Lord, so let’s post a sinful fic on tumblr. Constructive criticism on this fic will be greatly appreciated so I can start a career as a smut writer. x

Warnings: smut (edging, slight sub-dom). This is porn-without-plot that turned into emotional-porn-with-a-bit-of-a-plot. As always, English isn’t my first language.

Word count: ≈  2 400

The room was dark, hot and alive with Wilhemina’s quick, shallow breathing. Her whines had grown more desperate as the minutes had ticked by, her hands tightly clenching the sheet, her hips occasionally bucking into your touch.

Another loud, needy noise escaped her. You bit your lower lip – you loved it when she allowed herself to be that vocal.

“What was that?” you teased.

Wilhemina’s eyes met yours, dark and stormy. Your index finger ran tantalizingly slow up and down her slit over her saturated panties, teasing her as it had for the past twenty-five minutes. Your wrist was stiff and cramped, but you couldn’t care less, not when you could relish in the sight in front of you.

Wilhemina’s teeth sank into her lower lip as she let out another whine. She lifted her hips for more contact, but you tutted at her, gently slapped her stomach with your free hand. Her hips jumped on the bed.

“If you try that again I’ll stop,” you warned. Your voice was husky and thick with desire. Wilhemina was soaked, her arousal coating your finger through the cotton of her panties, the sight of which was definitely doing things to you.

“Touch me,” she hissed out, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Did you say something?” you teased. Your finger, stroking up and down, up and down. Wilhemina whined again.

“Touch me,” she repeated. “I can’t – touch me.”

You licked your lips, your eyes shining predatorily. You shot a glance at the alarm clock that glowed red in the dim light.

“You’ll have to be more patient. Just four more minutes. Do you think you can wait till then? You’re doing so good, baby.”

Wilhemina let out a desperate noise. She was incredibly tensed, sweat glistening on her skin. She sucked in a breath, held it, let it out shakily with another moan. Her right leg kicked on the bed.

You two had started dating three weeks ago. Wilhemina loved to tease you in bed, but she had trouble being patient enough to let you tease her. Usually she would lie underneath you and get just a little bossy and guide your hand or your head to her center when she thought you were taking too long. But tonight, you had dared her to lie still and she had, quite miraculously, agreed to try.

Wilhemina dug the heel of her left foot into the mattress, dragging it up and down in rhythm with your finger.

“Time’s up,” you cooed. You removed your hand.

Wilhemina whined at the loss of contact. She shivered as her center clenched on nothing, fingers clutching the sheet and tugging so hard you thought she might tear it. Your brow pushed up in sympathy at the desperate look on her face.

“Now baby girl, tell me how you’re feeling,” you rasped, as you started tracing circles on her lower stomach with the pad of your index. The muscles there jumped under your touch. “D’you think you can wait just a little longer for me? D’you think you can do that?”

A noise halfway between a moan and a sob escaped her. She lifted her head to look at you, eyes clouded with lust and need, then let it fall back on the pillow.

“Don’t you dare,” she breathed out.

She lifted her head again. When she spoke next, her voice had regained some of its usual sharpness. “Don’t you dare make me wait a second longer.”

“Um,” you hummed, amused at her tone, at how quickly she could jump back to her commanding personality. “I think you can wait a little longer.”

She sank back into the pillow with a frustrated huff.

You chuckled to yourself. You loved seeing her so completely vulnerable, so completely undone just for you. You fed on the sight of her below you, face and chest flushed and covered in your love marks, breasts heaving with her quick breathing. Her hair was tousled and looked like the sky at sunset.

You lowered yourself to plant kisses on her stomach, then hooked one finger over the waistband of her panties and tugged. Wilhemina wriggled out of them and kicked them down the bed.  

“Do you have any idea,” you whispered, as you peppered kisses up her body till you finally met her mouth, “how beautiful you look right now?”

Wilhemina whimpered into the kiss. She brought a hand up to your hair and tugged on it, hard, trying to pull you down where she needed you the most.

You chuckled again, fighting her, tugging hungrily at her lip and nipping it as you ran one hand down her body, teasingly slow. She shivered against you, slid her tongue into your mouth, lightly bit on yours for dominance. And then she moaned as you started circling your thumb around her aching clit, your touch too light to procure any of the much needed friction. Wilhemina broke the kiss, head pushing back, squirming on the bed to try and make your finger slip to her clit, but you moved with her, never giving her what she really wanted. Small desperate gasps fell from her mouth, and you were starting to take pity on her, were about to give in, when with an angry growl Wilhemina slipped one of her own hands between her legs to touch herself.

You shot her a mocked offended look she didn’t see, for her eyes were squeezed shut. Her lips parted in pleasure and her brow pushed up.

It wouldn’t take her long. Not with the way you had worked her up. So you slapped her hand away and pinned it on the bed.

“No,”you growled from somewhere deep in your throat. “You don’t get to decide if you can come.”

Something changed as the words left your mouth. Wilhemina opened her eyes, and her pupils were still blown wide, but there was something else there too, something that sent a pang of dread to your chest.

“Mina?” you called gently, propping yourself up on one elbow to give her more room. “What’s wrong? Did I hurt you?”

She bit her lip, shook her head violently and lifted it to capture your lower lip between hers, but you pushed her away gently.

“No,” you whispered, cupping her face and forcing her to meet your eyes.”What’s wrong? Please tell me. I don’t want to hurt you.”

“Nothing,” she answered, aiming for confidence but her voice cracked as if she were about to start crying.

You narrowed your eyes at her. She grabbed your hands, pulled them from her face and down to her center, as she launched an angry attack on your mouth, tongue pushing and teeth nipping. You kissed her back, humming, but kept your hands still against her lower stomach.

“Mina,” you whispered as she whined, as she clawed the backs of your hands with her nails like a desperate, wounded animal. You yanked your hands free and cupped her face again, pushing her away slightly.

“Please,” dropped from her lips, breathy and afraid.

You watched her for a few seconds, trying to figure out what was happening. She whined again, crashed her mouth against yours and tugged on your wrist. You met her franticness with a slow, sweet kiss.

“Remember,” you whispered, kissing your way down her body, settling between her thighs and lifting one of her legs to gently hook it over your shoulder, “that one night when we promised each other we’d always be here for the other?” You kissed and nipped the inside of her thigh, her skin there sticky with sweat and arousal. “I told you you didn’t have to be alone anymore. And you promised you’d try and share your dark thoughts with me. I’m here, baby. You don’t have to carry them on your own.”

You nuzzled her thigh right below her center, relishing the smell of her, and planted a kiss on her clit. Wilhemina’s legs shook, but she was keeping quiet now.

“Tell me what went through your mind just now,” you encouraged her.

“It-it was stupid. You said… I thought you meant – oh!”

You wanted her to keep her mind clear enough to talk to you, but there was no way you were going to stop pleasuring her now that understanding was finally creeping into your brain. So you kissed her clit again, flicked your tongue over it once, then lifted your head to look at her.

“I thought you meant…” she tried again, her tongue thick with lust, “I thought you meant I shouldn’t – I couldn’t – I didn’t deser- fuck!”

You had licked up her slit in one broad swipe and ended it with a flick on her clit. She threw back her head as her hips shot up the bed. You kissed her thigh. “You thought I meant you didn’t deserve release,” you finished for her, your throat tightening with guilt and a bitter kind of anger that wasn’t directed at anyone in particular.

Wilhemina shivered, gave an almost imperceptible nod of her head.

“I’m sorry,” she breathed out.

You shook your head, remembered her eyes were closed. “Don’t be,” you said. Another kiss on her thigh, closer to her center. Wilhemina shivered again. She was a mess, dripping and wriggling on the sheet, the smell of her arousal filling your head with heat.

You nipped the soft skin of her thigh just left of her clit. “I love you,” you rasped, too loud, too fierce. “I would never do that to you if you don’t want me to, Mina. I promise.” A soft kiss on her skin. “Do you trust me?”

Wilhemina whimpered, and nodded. You hummed happily, then pressed your open mouth against her center, gently sucking on her clit and swirling your tongue over it. Her hips bucked, a soft cry falling out of her. You smirked, lazily slid your tongue down her slit to tease her entrance, pushing just a little before going back to her clit. When Wilhemina’s breathing grew erratic, you pulled away and said, “No.”

A soft whine escaped her. You waited, as she took a few deep, shaky breaths, until her back lay flat on the mattress again. She opened her eyes, met your gaze. You reached for one of her hands.

“Okay?” you asked her, stroking your thumb over her knuckles.

She nodded weakly. You searched her eyes, found softness in them.

You gave her a fond smile, dropped a kiss on her glistening stomach before you dove back in. You made sure to keep an eye on her face as you worshipped her, pushing your tongue through her heat, licking up her slit, circling her clit, repeating those motions again and again until Wilhemina’s face contorted and her walls clenched. You pulled away.

This time, it was a desperate sob that pushed up her throat. She dug her heel into the mattress, legs shaking, and you had to press your own thighs together against the throbbing in your core.

Wilhemina had never allowed you to see her like this before, so utterly helpless and undone, shaking and whining, her hair a mess, her body tight as a rope pulled taut.

You propped yourself up, wiping your chin on your free hand. “Mina?” you called softly. “Is this okay, darling?”

She gave your hand a squeeze and nodded, but didn’t open her eyes. You planted lazy kisses on her stomach, blew air on her navel; that drew a giggle from her. You smiled against her skin, kissed your way up her chest, her neck, her chin – then finally, her mouth.

She moaned softly into the kiss, bringing her free hand up to cup your face as she tasted herself on your lips. You kissed her slowly, lovingly, and she sucked your lower lip playfully, fingers stuttering on your cheek. When you broke the kiss for air, you took her hand in yours and kissed her palm.

You were about to crawl back down between her legs but she gave your hand a squeeze. “Stay up here,” she whispered.

You smiled, captured her lower lip between yours again. You slid your hand down her body, nails gently grazing, and slipped two fingers inside her without warning.

Wilhemina gasped into your mouth as you roughly pushed into her, curling your fingers and finding that sensitive spot inside her. You slid your tongue against hers, humming, the vibrations going all the way down your bodies to your throbbing cores, and Wilhemina’s back arched up again, and her legs shook, and you brushed your thumb over her clit, drawing a desperate moan from her, and just as she was about to fly over the edge you slid your fingers out of her and rested your hand on her thigh.

Wilhemina sobbed, tears of frustration slipping from behind her eyelids. You pinned her waist to the bed as her hips bucked uncontrollably, her hand that held yours squeezing so tight it hurt.

“Please,” she cried, breath catching in her throat. “I can’t –“

The rest of her words were swallowed by a moan as you pushed your thumb against her clit, stroking it roughly as you rasped into her mouth, “Come for me.”

Her body snapped. Her hips jerked up and you automatically pressed down against them again, afraid she would shoot up off the bed and fall on the floor. She gasped your name into your mouth and it echoed back to hers, warm and gravelly and ecstatic, and you kissed her and kissed her as her body shook with tremors underneath you. She broke the kiss, head thrown back on the pillow, lips parted, eyes squeezed shut.

You rested your head on her shoulder as a few last tremors ran through her, tracing patterns on her collarbone, watching her face in awe. For a moment she lay so still and slack you thought she had fainted or fallen asleep. But then, her hand came up to rest on the nape of your neck, fingers stroking lazily.

You lifted your head to meet her eyes. She smiled at you adoringly, gaze warm and dreamy and grateful.

You stroked her cheek. “You’re a bit red in the face,” you teased.

She let out a soft chuckle, rolled her eyes at you, and pressed her forehead against yours. Her eyelashes tickled your nose as her eyes fluttered closed. “Thank you,” she murmured sleepily. “Love you.”

Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 / Part 5 / Part 6

Tag list:  @mssallymckenna @supremeinlilac @pluied-ete @rainbow-hedgehog @pearplate @angelxsarahp @paulawand @asktammyr @peggycarter-steverogers   @coconutlipss ​ @saucy-sapphic​  @thesupremewife

[nightowlfandom]

Billy Loomis and Stu Macher x Reader- 27 (Part 2)

Hey beautiful people! SOOOO I got a comment on my last Scream imagine and they said...

ok but like a part 2 where we go picking them all off one by one and tell them what happened to (y/n) before we end them? and the revenge on the parents for it too? make them feel sorry for what they did and expose them to everyone. I mean not forcing but lightly tapping an idea

and....I AM IN LOVE...SO I GOT YOU BRAH 

READ PART 1?

CHECK OUT MY MASTERLIST HERE!

Okay so you know the drill, I will let you know when to proceed with caution.

LEGGO!

... (Picking up directly after the events of part 1)

“...My parents weren’t the most loving people around.” you stared down at your fingertips. “They were overbearing...very controlling...loved to gaslight me from time to time.” you felt a lump form in your throat. “After the Hanna thing, they tried to sent me to boarding school.”

You three sat in Stu’s basement. You sat cross-legged on the floor and Stu and Billy cleaned up the dead body. Stu had given you a rag to wipe the blood off your face and hands. 

“A while back before we all met...my parents weren’t too bad. Then Hanna came along and decided to ruin that for me too. She and her friends dragged me into the woods and beat me up...I was bleeding out everywhere...she told my parents I attacked her...she told them that I-..That I tried to kill her.” you shook your head. “My parents never looked at me the same...like they disowned me without saying they did.” you sniffed.

“What about the others?” Billy ceased his activities to stare at you. He was impressed how well you seemed to be taking everything. 

“ Dylan leaked my friend’s nudes, Jennifer is Hanna’s slave...she was Hanna Number 2 when she couldn’t torture anyone else. Rachel....I just hate Rachel, and Cameron...is my ex.” you explained. “There are others...many others.” you seethed. 

“And we’ll get to all of them.” Stu finished his job of tying Hanna’s legs together. “But first...how do you feel?”

“Like I just killed someone.” you half-joked, bringing your knees to your chest. “Why didn’t you guys tell me?”

“We didn’t want to scare you.” Billy reminded you. “We know how you are Y/N.”

“Still.” you pouted. “It would have been nice to know that you two were behind all this.” you stared at the floor. “Why didn’t you guys...y’know-”

“We wanted to...” Billy dusted himself off. “We tried...then you just had to charm us with that smile of yours.” he bit his lip as he smiled at the thought. “You just had to go and be adorable.”

There he was, standing with Stu hunched over a notebook of possible victims. They had agreed you’d be next, they really did. They had introduced themselves to you and gained your trust, but along the way, your kindness, your willingness to be so vulnerable around then...accepting them (especially Billy) for their flaws, they couldn’t...they wouldn’t.

“Can I help with anything?” you asked, standing to your feet. 

“Not unless you know a place to dump this body.” Billy replied. 

“There’s a lake behind Hanna’s house...” you recalled. “I saw it when my parents used to go over there for dinner.”

“Great!” Stu skipped over and took you in a hug. “So who do you wanna get first?”

“Me? You’re letting me choose?” you stared up at Stu who swore up and down you looked the most adorable you ever have, if that was even possible. 

“This is your list, isn’t it?” Billy casually strode over. He tilted your chin up at him. “Just let us take care of it.”

“...Dylan first.” you concluded. “It’s for my friend...he has to go.” you asserted. 

“As you wish princess.” 

...(The Next Day)

   You trudged away from your parent’s car, doing your usual habits of ignoring them as they saw you off. You saw Billy and Stu waiting for you on some benches. They glared behind you, obviously getting a good look of your parents. 

“Hey cutie.” Stu threw himself at you, hugging you super tight. “How’d you sleep?”

“Shitty...” you mumbled. “Guess who just caught word of Hannas’s...untimely demise.”

“Serves the bitch right.” Billy flicked his middle finger at your parents as they drove off. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Dylan throwing around a football with his friends. His gaze darted in your direction. He looked surprised to see you and Stu so close, so much so that he hesitated to throw the ball back to his friends. “Hey asshole, you got your turn. Hand her over.” Billy flicked Stu on the head as he pulled your out of Stu’s embrace.

“Oh you’re no fun.” Stu laughed, waving him off. Billy wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you to his chest and gingerly trailing his fingers down your back. 

“Hey Y/N...” 

You paused your momentary happy moment when Dylan came jogging up. You pulled away from Billy and faced your friend’s ex-boyfriend. “What?”

“Um...Hey.” he did that douche-bag hair flip. “What’s up?”

“I’m just spectacular.” you grimaced. He was really talking to you like he wasn’t the reason your only other friend switched schools. “Need something?”

“Yeah. I wanted to invite you to my party tonight.”

‘I’d rather-” you began, only to realize the mega opportunity you’d receive. 

“Are your other friends coming?” you shifted all your weight to one side and pretended to absentmindedly twirl your hair. 

“Um...Y-yeah.” he nodded.

“Can my friends come?” you acted oblivious and dumb, the only language he and his friends seemed to understand when it came to women.

“Sure. They can come join the fun.” he winked. “Tonight, 8:00 o’clock.”

“Splendid, you winked. I’ll be there.” 

As Dylan returned to his friends, all of them laughing about the joke they thought you didn’t understand, Billy and Stu stood at your sides.

“You’re killer is showing, love.” Stu kissed the side of your head. “Easy now.” he laughed, even though he knew he was talking complete bullshit.

“I’m gonna have so much fun slitting that one’s throat.” Billy pointed to Rachel. “This is gonna be awesome.”

...(That Night)

You had managed to make it a few hours. Without completely losing your mind. Billy had taken it upon himself to put up him brooding angst-filled sadboi attitude and Stu showed up in his honorary pimp robe. 

Now you all were sitting in a circle, playing stupid games.

“Y/N...truth or dare?” Jennifer called on you next, noticing how quiet you had been.

“Kiss, Fuck, Or Kill. Stu Macher, Cameron Kent, and Dylan Bayle.”

With a bored grin, you looked her right in the eye. She dared you to say you would fuck her boyfriend, little does she know...

“I guess I’d have to kiss Cameron...” you began warmly, recalling how you two used to date. Gross... “And as much as I love pissing you off...I wouldn’t touch Dylan with a ten foot pole...so I’d have sex with Stu.”

A few wolf whistles from the guy chorused around the circle as a few guys pat Stu on the back. Your eyes looked over at Stu whose cheeks were tinted pink. He shot you a smile and a quick wink.

“And you know what that leaves?...I’d kill Dylan.” you smirked, only to put on a front again. Before anyone could say anything else, you all heard a phone ring. Coincidentally, the phone was right next to you. 

“Y/N, get that will you. Put it on speaker.”

“I got you.” you grabbed the phone. “Hello?”

“What number is this?”

“What number are you trying to reach?” you replied.

“I dunno...”

“Sure buddy.” you rolled your eyes as you hung up.

“Okay! Dylan!” Rachel drunkenly asked. “Truth or Dare!”

“Dare baby!” Dylan laughed.

“I dare you to go into the bedroom with Y/N and do something with her!” she laughed. “You can’t leave until you do something!”

“Did anyone ask my opinion on this?” you felt disgusted as the words left your mouth. How much longer were you gonna have to put up with this? “Stu, help me out!” 

“A dare’s a dare, babe.” he laughed as he took another swig of whatever. 

“Ugh!!” you grimaced as you stood up and followed Dylan. You made sure to lightly bump your shoulder against Stu’s as you walked. You two looked eyes momentarily, sharing a discrete smirk between eachother.

The door closed behind you. (PROCEED WITH CAUTION! READ MORE BELOW THE LINE BREAK)

...

You stood there, playing with your fingers as Dylan came up to you.

“You know Y/N...I’ve always liked you.”

“Oh really?” you asked shyly. “W-well why didn’t you tell me?” you half giggled half gagged.

“I couldn’t find the right words.” he reached out to touch your cheek.

Meanwhile downstairs, everyone laughed at the hidden camera footage they were watching. They couldn’t wait to post this to the school’s website. 

“Oh my god!” you screamed at you pointed behind Dylan. Everyone watched as a dark hooded figure creeped up behind Dylan and grabbed him buy the back of his head, digging a knife into his shoulder. Then he charged for you, stabbing you in the stomach...slowly but surely he creeped up to the camera, looking directly at it. “Nuh uh uh~” he sang before he punched the camera, causing the signal to break.

This caused everyone to scream bloody murder and attempted to scream.

Back in the bedroom, you had managed to hear the screaming. “Can I get up now?” you rolled over. “Pretending to die is so weird.”

“Allow me.” Billy walked over and helped you to your feet, ridding himself of his Ghostface mask. “You look good covered in fake blood.”

“Do I?” you fake pouted. Billy didn’t answer and instead kissed you. He held your face in his hands, gently moving his soft lips against yours. He would have went crazy is Dylan managed to get that far. He was glad that he could finally show how he felt about you in a personal way. 

“You do.” he bit his lip as he pulled away.

“W-what the fuck?!” Dylan, who was very much alive looked between you two. “You’re in on this.”

“Oh shut up!” you grabbed Billy’s knife and walked up to him. “Kyla Grayson, who is she?”

“Kyla Grayson?”

“ARE YOU AN ECHO?” you snapped. “Who is she?”

“I don’t know! I swear!” he tried to cower away from you.

“You don’t remember showing private pictures of a young impressionable freshman to your fucking friends?” you glared. “She trusted you...she liked you a lot...and because of you she had to move to a different county.” you raised the knife over your head. “Any last words?”

“SURPRISE!” Stu burst through the door, also dawning a Ghostface getup, only without the voice changer. He was dragging Jennifer and Rachel by the hair.

“You’re just in time for the show.” you said, not looking up from Dylan. 

“Y/N...y-you’re-”

“Don’t talk.” you kept your eyes on Dylan. “I’ll get to you soon.”

(Part 3 will be revenge against your parents)

[specialagentsergio]

wish i were

summary: Emily’s back where she belongs, but she’s learning that you can’t come back from the dead the same as you were before. Spencer’s reeling from betrayal and broken trust. Then there’s you—their safe port in the storm. But you’re not okay either, and you have a choice to make.

pairing: spencer reid x f!reader (unrequited), emily prentiss x f!reader

category: angst

content warnings: lots of swearing, mentions of/implied sex, mentions of vomiting (nothing descriptive), fighting, negative feelings towards other team members, bittersweet ending

a/n: it’s finally here. thank you all for your patience. i wasn’t planning on posting angst and unrequited love on valentine’s day, but i don’t want to wait another day to post this; i’m kinda sick of looking at it tbh. anyways, i hope you enjoy it and it lives up to your expectations. sorry it’s so long. apparently i have a lot to say.

word count: 8.7k

series masterlist || masterlist

Ten weeks ago.

“Absolutely not,” Emily croaks out. Her voice is rough and broken from the breathing tube, and it hurts her throat to speak, but she ignores it. “No. I won’t do it.”

She can hardly believe what she’s hearing. She’s only been awake for a few hours and she’s already fed up with the bullshit the world is throwing at her. Right now, it’s in the form of her boss asking her to fake her own death. “You can’t seriously think this is an acceptable solution.”

Hotch is unreadable, his unit chief face firmly in place. “It’s for your own safety.”

Emily scoffs, then immediately winces at the pain that shoots through her midsection. But she continues. “So put me in a safe house or something. I’m not making my friends bury me.”

“It’s for their safety as well,” he replies. “Doyle’s still out there. He’s targeted them before. You know he’ll do it again to get to you if he finds out you’re alive.”

“Then let them in on this,” she argues. “They can keep a secret.”

His expression slips—just a little bit, but she sees it. It’s hesitance.

“Where’s (Y/N)?” she asks, a feeling of dread settling over her. “I want to see her. I’m not making a decision like this without her.”

Hotch folds his arms over his chest. “It’s not your decision to make, Emily,” he says quietly. “It’s already done.”

Her breath catches in her throat. She looks him up and down, searching desperately for any sign that he’s lying, that this is all just some cruel joke, that any second now you’ll be walking through the door, a smile on your face—

There are none.

Her lungs burn and she’s forced to take in a breath. “You son of a bitch,” she whispers. “You... son of a bitch. How dare you? How dare you.”

He doesn’t so much as flinch as her voice increases in volume, which only serves to make her angrier.

“How fucking dare you! You let me see (Y/N) right now, you bastard!”

The door opens—her heart leaps—

It’s JJ, who, if Hotch is to be believed, is the only other one to know about this. JJ hurries to her side and reaches out, but Emily yanks her arm away.

“Don’t fucking touch me,” she snarls. “You—” Her eyes land on the water pitcher on the table in front of her and she lunges forward, the searing pain it causes barely registering. She seizes it and throws it with all the force she can muster.

Hotch doesn’t move out of the way, letting it hit his chest and soak the front of his clothing. Its accompanying cup follows, then the TV remote. It’s not until she grabs the vase of flowers that he ducks out of the way. The glass shatters on the floor. All the while, she’s screaming obscenities at him.

JJ tries in vain to calm her down, holding up her hands placatingly. “Emily, please—”

“Don’t talk to me!” she yells. “You have the audacity to come in here and speak to me when you know I’m alive and my girlfriend doesn’t!”

“Emily!” Her voice is stern. “I understand you’re upset—”

“Don’t use your fucking mom voice on me, Jennifer, I’m not a fucking child—”

“What’s going on in here?” A pair of nurses enter the room, no doubt drawn by the commotion.

“She’s bleeding,” JJ answers immediately. “I think she might have aggravated something when she sat up.”

“She’s not supposed to be sitting up at all. What did you two do?” one of the nurses scolds.

“She just got some bad news—”

“Well, isn’t that a nice way to put it!” The nurses are trying to coax her into laying back down, but Emily resists it. “A really great way to describe the two of you trying to force me into letting my family and girlfriend think I’m dead!”

“I think some of the stitches tore,” the second nurse says.

“Go get the doctor,” the first one instructs an orderly standing in the doorway.

Movement catches Emily’s eye and she looks towards it to see Hotch taking a step backwards.

“Don’t you dare leave!” she screams. “I’m not done with you, you motherf—”

“Agent, please, you need to lie back.”

“And you two need to leave,” the older of the nurses says.

Then there’s a third person at her side. Judging by the white coat, it’s the doctor. “What’s the problem?” he asks them.

“She’s agitated and we think some stitches might have burst.”

“Damn right I’m agitated!” Emily cries. “They’re trying to—I—” She looks past the doctor to find that JJ and Hotch are gone.

“Emily, we’re going to give you something to help you relax,” he tells her.

Her vision goes blurry and she can’t figure out why until she feels the tears sliding down her cheeks. She lets the nurses push her back now and her head thumps against the pillow. “Please—” she chokes on a sob. “Please, I want to see my girlfriend.”

“What’s her name?” the doctor asks kindly.

“(Y/N). We’ve been together for almost a year. I need…” Her limbs are starting to feel heavy. “I need to call her, or—or something. She thinks… she thinks….”

“Shh, you’re okay,” one of the nurses soothes. “You’re going to be okay.”

Emily blinks slowly and shakes her head. “But she won’t be. She…”

The world fades to black.

---

There are tear stains on your pillowcase.

That’s the first thing Emily notices when she walks into your bedroom. She recognizes them so quickly because similar ones were on her pillows in Paris.

“Sorry, I’ve been meaning to run the sheets through the wash,” you say when you notice her looking.

“It’s okay, don’t worry about it.” She sets her bag on the bedside table, careful to jostle Sergio as little as possible. He’s in her arms, pressed against her chest and purring loudly. He definitely remembers her—she’d been a little worried that he wouldn’t.

Emily is absolutely exhausted. It has been a very long day. Doyle is dead, Declan is safe, and now all she wants to do is take a nice, hot shower and curl up in bed with you. But you haven’t been able to keep eye contact with her for more than a few moments at a time.

She expected something like this to happen. She knew once the relief of seeing her alive wore off, there was going to be a heap of more, uglier emotions surfacing.

“What’s wrong?” she asks.

You glance up at her just briefly, busying yourself with stripping off the pillowcases and replacing them with a clean set. “I don’t know what to say, Emily,” you sigh. “I just… I don’t.”

She strokes Sergio’s back a couple of times to calm herself before replying. “You can say anything. You’ve been through so much, and I… I’m not going to hold what you’re feeling against you.”

You shake your head. “I don’t want to say something I’ll regret.”

It confirms her suspicions. “(Y/N), you’re allowed to be mad at me,” she says. “Hell, you could even yell at me if you wanted to and I’d be okay with it.”

You snort. “I don’t want to yell at you. But, um, could I ask you a question?”

“Anything.”

“Okay. Well…” You shuffle from one foot to the other. “I’m… not really sure how to ask this, but, how… how did this happen?”

Your voice is hesitant. You’re holding back, but Emily can read between the lines. “You mean, how could I let you think I was dead?” she corrects softly.

You breathe in sharply and wrap your arms around yourself. Your eyes are wet when you look up at her and nod.

Emily tries not to let her next words come out too fast, lest it seem like she’s dismissing your feelings or making excuses. “I didn’t get a choice.” Her voice cracks and she clears her throat. “When I came to after surgery, the funeral had already been held.”

Your mouth drops open. You stare at her for a few seconds, then blink several times. Your eyes move around, focused on nothing in particular as you try to process what she’s just told you. Eventually, they settle on the bedroom door behind her. “I’m gonna punch his face,” you whisper.

Emily can’t stop the genuine laugh that bubbles out of her. “Yeah, Hotch heard similar things from me.”

“Oh my god, Em,” you breathe out, and her heart skips a beat at the nickname. “That must have been awful.”

“Yeah, it wasn’t fun,” she admits. “But at least I knew you were alive and that I’d see you again someday. It can’t come close to what you went through.”

You shake your head. “This isn’t the suffering Olympics. It was harder for you in some ways than it was for me, I’m sure. Like, if I was waking up after being stabbed, I’d want my girlfriend there holding my hand.”

Emily’s eyes prick with tears as she listens to you, remembering how it felt to be at the hospital without you there to hold her hand through all the scary bits. But you? You had buried her, and now you’re here considering how Emily had felt throughout all this. She’s not sure if you’re actively trying to make her fall even more in love with you, but if you are, you’re succeeding.

“I can’t promise to never be mad at you about this,” you continue, “but I’ll take being mad at you for actually being alive rather than being mad at you for dying.”

“That’s… really mature of you,” she observes.

“I started seeing a therapist a few days after the funeral,” you say with a shrug. “Can you put Sergio down and help me change the bed sheets?”

She nods and places him gently on the floor. She’s about to ask why you’re wanting to change them right now, when you’re clearly just as exhausted as she is, when she finds a tie wedged between the top and fitted sheets at the foot of the bed. She frowns as she lifts it up—it’s not one she recognizes as yours or hers, but she does think she’s seen it before.

“Oh, so that’s where that went,” you say.

“I don’t remember you having a tie like this. Is it new?”

“It’s Spencer’s,” you clarify.

“Oh. What… what’s it doing in your bed?” she asks hesitantly.

“He would stay over sometimes when I couldn’t sleep and he’s too long—“ you spread your hands apart “—for either of the couches.”

“I see.” Emily smooths out the wrinkles in the fabric and crosses the room to put it on top of the dresser, trying to tamp down the sting of jealousy. The other side of your bed is supposed to be hers.

“Nothing happened,” you say and she realizes she’s frowning.

“I know,” she replies, and she does—she just wishes it had been her in the bed with you. But you’ve at least given her a good lead-in for her surprise. “Anyways, you wouldn’t have even had the time with the amount of online Scrabble you were playing.”

Now it’s your turn to frown. “How do you know about that?”

The corner of her mouth turns up. “I was there for every game, sergio2010.”

It takes you a moment to put it together. “You’re cheetobreath?” you ask. “I thought that was JJ.”

“It was her idea,” Emily says. “And that’s what you were supposed to think.”

Your reaction delights her—you start laughing. “That’s ridiculous!”

“I had to stick it to Hotch somehow,” she defends, barely holding back her own laughter.

You shake your head fondly as you finish tucking in the fresh sheets. Emily helps you spread the comforter back over the bed and return the pillows to their spots. She isn’t sure what to do after that, though, and nervously clasps her hands in front of her. You’re silent for a few seconds, watching her from across the bed.

“I’m going to go take a shower,” you say eventually.

“Um, okay,” she replies. “But you know, I could go stay at a hotel instead if you’d prefer.”

You shake your head. “You’re gonna join me.”

“Ah.” Emily swallows, part nervous, part thrilled. “That’s… I mean, yeah. Okay.”

You hold out your hand in invitation; she circles the bed and takes it.

After, when you’re both clean and settled into bed, she pulls you as close to her as she can. “This is so nice,” you sigh into her skin. “You’re so soft, Em.”

Her eyebrows furrow. “Um, thank you?”

“Spencer’s bony,” you explain.

Emily snorts. “Yeah, I know. I fell asleep on his shoulder on the jet a few years ago and it was painful.”

You giggle. “Did you know he talks in his sleep?”

“Morgan’s mentioned it. You learn anything else when you were snuggled up with him?” she teases, running her fingers through your damp hair.

“It wasn’t like that,” you protest. “We didn’t snuggle. I’d just kind of… press my forehead on his arm and one leg against his.” Your voice lowers as you continue, “I just really missed being close to someone.”

“I did, too,” she whispers back. “I wish it had been me, but I’m glad you had him.”

You nod against her in agreement. “I love you, Emily,” you say, briefly tightening your grip on her.

“I love you, too,” she replies, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “So much.”

You drift off to sleep quickly, and she’s not far behind.

It’s the best sleep she’s had in months.

---

Spencer’s barely heard from you since the hearing last week.

He’d gotten plenty of texts from Jennifer (all of which he ignored), but only a few from you. That’s probably normal for most adult friends, but not for you two, especially so when the fact that you were the only two people not to apply for reinstatement to the BAU is taken into consideration. He thought that he’d be able to seriously talk about it with you, to share his feelings and maybe work it out together. But all he had gotten was a brief message:

Emily was reinstated, so I’m going back, too.

It left him frustrated, but when it came down to it, he understood—he was the same. Since you were going back, so was he.

On Monday morning, everyone’s first day back together, he gets off the elevator and is immediately confronted with the last person he wants to see.

“Hey, where have you been? I wanted to do brunch this weekend,” Jennifer says.

Spencer barely resists rolling his eyes, instead keeping them fixed on the file he’s holding. “I had to deal with some stuff with my mom.” It’s not a lie—he did have to check in with his mom. It just didn’t take as long as he’s implying. “Have you seen Garcia?”

“Uh, she’s with Rossi,” Jennifer answers, and she sounds startled by his behavior, but he doesn’t care. You’re at your desk, and as he passes by, he takes your arm.

“Wha—Spencer?” You’re taken aback, but you let him pull you along and into a file room.

“What?” you repeat when he turns to you after closing the door.

He tucks the file into his bag, the folds his arms over his chest. “I barely heard from you last week.”

Your eyebrows scrunch together. “Well, yeah, I’ve been busy,” you say. “Emily’s moving in with me so we’ve been taking her things out of storage and to my apartment to unpack.”

Spencer glances away, trying to ignore the stab of jealousy in his chest. Just two weeks ago, he was in your bed and he’s quickly been replaced. And sure, he knows you don’t feel that way about him, but it was easy to pretend you did when you were asleep right next to him. “Not busy enough to make a decision about work,” he points out.

“So?”

“You’re the only other one who didn’t apply for reinstatement to the unit,” he replies. “You’d think that would be something for us to talk about.”

“You never said you wanted to,” you say, giving him a little shrug.

He doesn’t resist the eye roll this time. Does Spencer know he’s being a bit unfair? Yes. Does he care? Not particularly. No one bothered to seriously check in with him last week. He wasn’t expecting everyone to, but he was expecting it from you. He’s only been at work for five minutes, but his emotions are already running high, and he doesn’t care to reign them in. “I didn’t think I’d have to.”

“You should’ve. I can’t read your mind.” Now you’re getting defensive. “And what does it matter, anyways? You’re not my boyfriend; I don’t have to run my decisions past you.”

“I know that,” he snaps. He really could have done without hearing you say that. “I’m just there to warm up your bed when you’re lonely is all, huh?”

You’re shocked for only a moment before pivoting to anger. “I didn’t make you do anything. You could’ve said no. And I certainly don’t owe you anything from it.”

“Clearly,” he mutters.

You heave an angry sigh. “Look, I know you’re mad about the whole thing, but don’t take it out on me. I don’t know why you’re so surprised that I wanted to spend the past week catching up with my girlfriend after thinking she was dead for ten weeks. If you wanted to talk, you should’ve said so. Stop being such an ass.”

Spencer doesn’t answer. You’re right, and he knows it, but that doesn’t mean he’s going to admit it. He just looks down at the floor, avoiding your glare.

When it becomes clear to you that he has no intention of responding, you mutter, “whatever” under your breath and duck behind him, walking out of the door and leaving him alone again.

---

The case has been miserable.

In rural Oklahoma, their unsub is burning his victims with acid. Not the worst they’ve seen, but not pleasant, either—this job never is.

You’re still mad at him, which is bad enough, but he’s also had to watch you be far more… touchy with Emily than you ever were before. It’s not super apparent—you still keep it professional at the local P.D. and when you’re out on work assignments, but you’re going out of your way to find any excuse to touch her that you can outside of that.

Then there’s the motel they’re staying at and its thin walls. He heard a few things last night from your room next door. It was quickly followed by shushes, but he heard enough to infer what was going on. So he’d dug his noise-canceling headphones out of his bag. It had been a good solution at the time, but then he’d fallen asleep with them on. As a result, he’d slept with his neck at an odd angle. It’s midday now and it’s still aching.

To top it all off, there’s Jennifer. He’s been trying to keep his distance from her, and had thought the snide remarks he hadn’t been able to hold back might encourage her to stay away. But she keeps pressing the issue, and when she tells him she thinks he’s mad about micro-expressions, he can’t hold it back anymore.

“You think it’s about my profiling skills? Jennifer, listen, the only reason you were able to manage my perceptions is because I trusted you. I came to your house for ten weeks in a row crying over losing a friend, and not once did you have the decency to tell me the truth.”

She protests, so he brings up Dilaudid. He knows it’s a low blow, and that she still feels guilty about them splitting up all those years ago, leading to his abduction and subsequent problem, but he doesn’t care. He just wants her to hurt like he is.

The team is staring and Emily says his name, but he just tells Jennifer that it’s too late to be sorry and leaves without another word.

Outside, he sits on the curb in front of one of the SUVs and presses the heels of his hands into his eyes, trying to calm himself down. He’s not alone for long, though. Just a few minutes later, he hears footsteps coming from behind him. The sound that involuntarily comes out of his throat can only be described as a growl.

“God, Jennifer, what do I have to do to get you to understand that I want you to leave me the fuck alone!” he nearly yells.

But it’s not Jennifer that answers. “It’s me,” you say softly.

Spencer sighs. He drops his hands from his face but doesn’t open his eyes. “What?”

“Can I sit?”

He’s not sure he wants to be around anyone, but it’s hard for him to say no to you. “Sure,” he says dully.

You join him on the curb, but keep a few feet of space between you. You don’t say anything, though, just sit quietly, letting him make the first move.

“How are you okay?” he asks eventually.

“What?” You sound incredulous. “I’m not sure where you got that idea. I’m so mad at Hotch that I can barely breathe when I’m in the same room as him.”

Spencer considers this for a moment, recalling when everyone’s been in the same room during this case. He realizes that since he’s been preoccupied with you touching Emily and trying to avoid Jennifer, he’s missed how you tense up whenever you see Hotch, and that you keep him out of your eyesight whenever possible.

“But you’re fine with Emily,” he observes. That does honestly confuse him, because he’s mad at Emily as well. And if it had been you in her place? He’s not sure he’d ever be able to forgive you, even without you knowing the way he feels about you.

“For the most part,” you say. “I still feel a little mad at her sometimes, but it helps me to remember that it wasn’t her fault.”

He finally looks at you, raising an eyebrow. “Being alive in Paris and not telling you isn’t her fault?”

“She didn’t really get a choice. When she woke up after surgery, the funeral had already happened,” you explain. “Hotch made the decision without her.”

“Hmm.” He files that information away to think over later. “And Jennifer?”

You shrug. “I can’t be too mad at her, since she did so much for me during those weeks.”

He snorts. “Yeah, out of guilt.”

“Probably, yes,” you concede. “But not having to pack up Emily’s things and take them to storage myself, feeding Sergio and bringing him to stay with me, bringing me hot meals when I was surviving off of cereal alone because I could barely get out of bed, let alone cook for myself… it went a long way.”

On the one hand, it’s a bit comforting for him to hear how Jennifer helped the woman he loves. On the other, she could have ended your pain with three words—Emily is alive—but she didn’t. She let the woman he loves suffer the pain of the loss of a partner.

And she sure didn’t bring him hot meals.

This shouldn’t surprise you, Spencer. You’ve always been the afterthought. The burden. You should be used to this by now.

He clenches the fabric of his pants in his hands. “That doesn’t make me any less angry,” he mutters.

“That’s fine.”

“You can’t expect me to just—wait, what?”

“That’s fine,” you repeat. “I’m not trying to tell you to just get over it or whatever because she was nice to me. Like Em told me, you’re allowed to be mad.”

Spencer bites his lip, resisting the urge to ask you to stop calling her Em. You’re the only one that calls her that—or rather, is allowed to call her that, and it’s obvious why. It’s also similar enough to you calling him Spence that he’ll always start comparing himself to Emily when he hears it, and he’s been trying to stop doing that for months.

“Maybe you just, I don’t know,” you continue, drawing him out of his thoughts. “You could just try to be a little less passive aggressive with JJ?”

He opens his mouth, about to flat-out refuse, but before he can, you tack on, “For me? Just a little bit?”

God damn it.

“Only if she stops bothering me,” he says bluntly.

“Yeah, she, um… she was crying when I left, so I think she’s got the message now,” you say quietly.

He feels a bit guilty upon hearing that, but not enough to apologize, or even really regret it. I told her I didn’t want to talk about it, he rationalizes to himself. She’s the one who decided to push it anyways.

After a few moments of silence, you reach out and pat his knee. “I love you, you know.”

He knows what you mean, knows that you don’t mean it like that, but his heart still skips a beat. He responds to you with a nod.

You push yourself to your feet, tell him to take all the time he needs, and you’ll see him when he’s ready to come back in, then walk away.

When he’s certain you’re out of earshot, he whispers back, “I love you, too.”

---

Emily sits down across from him on the plane, and Spencer is immediately reminded of the morning after he caught you and her together. That time, Emily had folded her hands in front of her on the table. This time, she slides something across it to him. He looks up from his book and sees his missing tie, wrinkles ironed out and folded neatly.

“It was in her bed,” she explains when his brow furrows.

Spencer wonders if that made Emily jealous.

He’s not a good enough person to not hope it did.

“Thanks,” he mutters, putting it away in his bag.

Emily’s quiet, but she doesn’t leave. She must have something else to say. He sighs. “What is it?”  

“Are you going to Rossi’s house tomorrow night?” she asks.

He looks back down to his book. “I don’t know. I’m not so sure I can make it.”

“Okay. Well, Reid, you can be mad at me for as long as you need to. I’m okay with that.”

Spencer frowns. He kind of wishes she wasn’t being so nice and understanding. It makes it harder to be upset with her, and he wants to be upset with her.

“I’d like to say something to you, though, if that’s okay,” she says.

He reluctantly looks back up. “What?”

Emily holds his gaze. “Thank you,” she says earnestly.

He blinks. “Uh, for what?”

Her voice wavers slightly with emotion as she speaks. “For looking out for her when I couldn’t.”

His eyes drift away from Emily and to the couch where you’re sleeping. “My pleasure,” he replies quietly. When he looks back at Emily, she has a curious look on her face.

For the first time, instead of panicking over keeping his secret, instead of shying away, Spencer looks right back at her. A few seconds later, he thinks he sees a flash of realization in her eyes, but it’s so quick he can’t be sure.

“Well, thank you,” she repeats, and takes her leave. He watches as she leans down and tucks the blanket closer around you. He closes his eyes, leans back in his seat, and imagines a world where he was the one adjusting it instead.

---

“You’re gonna go weeks, months even, feeling fine. And then you’re gonna have a bad day.”

Emily can barely get the hotel room door open, her hands are shaking so much. A bad day. What Hotch called it, she thinks, was a bit of an understatement.

She’s just come back from taking a witness statement to help wrap up the piano man case—or rather, she was trying to take one.

“I was told that you would only give your statement to me.”

“Why didn’t you let me pull the trigger?” Regina asks.

“Because you would be in prison.” Emily understands why Regina is mad at her, and she’s fine with taking the brunt of it. Lying to her to stop her from shooting the unsub was the right thing to do. “I know it’s hard--”

“No, you don’t. You have no idea what it’s like…” Regina pauses briefly, anger radiating off of her. “When the monster from your nightmares comes back for you.”

Emily breaks eye contact and looks down. She knows exactly what that’s like.

Regina recognizes it. “Wait--”

Redirect, redirect, redirect. “Look, I’m here as a courtesy--”

“Something happened to you.”

“So do you want to give me your statement or not?”

But Regina is relentless. “What did you do to him, huh? Did you arrest him like a good FBI agent? Or did you kill him?”

Emily sits down heavily on the spare bed, drawing your attention away from packing up your things for the flight home. “Em?”

She just shakes her head, leaning forward with her elbows on her knees and closing her eyes. “It was the right thing,” she whispers to herself. “It was the right thing. I did the right thing.”

You sit down next to her and place your hand on her back. “What happened?”

Emily swallows hard, feeling sick to her stomach. Her hair is sticking to the back of her neck; she tilts her head to try and dislodge it. You catch on and pull it to the side for her.

“Talk to me, baby,” you urge gently. “Just something, anything I can do to help.”

She takes a few deep breaths, trying to calm down enough to speak. “I—I think,” she stutters. “I th—think I just ruined a woman’s pe—peace of m—mind for good.”

You start rubbing circles on her back and ask, “How?”

“You know, when they talk about victims getting revictimized by the system, they mean you.”

Emily shudders involuntarily. “I… you know how we found the unsub with a—a victim?”

Slowly, in sentences fractured by gasping breaths, swallows to hold back the nausea, and even a few sobs, she recounts what Regina said to her.

You murmur something under your breath that she doesn’t catch, then, ever so gently, you pull her into your arms.

Emily Prentiss isn’t one to break down, not in her own home and especially not in front of others. She controls any “negative” emotions as best as she can, her feelings only displayed through a trembling voice, misty eyes, or run-down nails. Screaming, tears, and nervous gestures were not befitting of an ambassador’s daughter, after all, and those habits formed in childhood have stayed with her until this day.

But there’s one person who’s the exception. There’s one person with whom those walls just don’t seem to exist. That person, of course, is you.

You pull her into your arms, and Emily Prentiss breaks down, because she can. She can because she knows you’ll be there to help put her back together again.

“You never had a chance to mourn your own death, did you?”

She hadn’t understood what her therapist meant when she said it yesterday morning, but Emily thinks she does now. This time last year, what Regina said would have unsettled her, and she would have felt sorry for her, but she probably wouldn’t have dwelt on it much. It’s not last year, though. It’s this year, and she’s coming undone in your embrace over Regina’s words, words she knows will never leave her.

“I didn’t pull the trigger.”

“Still… your monster’s dead. I have to live with mine. That’s my statement.”

Emily has a promise to keep, so she boards the jet early. A few minutes later, Hotch slides into the seat across from her and waits. It still takes her a few moments to collect herself enough to say the words.

“I’m having a bad day.”

---

Spencer’s not sure if you’re going to be able to keep doing this job. He became very familiar with your nervous tics and outward signs of stress during those weeks, and now he can notice them almost immediately.

You seemed okay for the first few months. A few habits cropped up now and then—biting your lip, tapping each fingertip to your thumb in turn—but that was fairly normal. It’s a stressful job.

But then your bottom lip starts getting chapped again, and during conversions with anyone other than Emily, you’re quiet; you often have to be prompted to share your thoughts.

He tries to find out what’s wrong, but when he asks, you shut it down. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Okay,” he says quietly. “But, um, you probably should talk to… somebody, you know?”

You barely look up from your paperwork as you respond. “I appreciate the concern, but I’ve been seeing a therapist since this whole shitshow started. I’ve got Emily, too. If anything, I should be telling you to go talk to a professional.”

Spencer just says “okay” again, then a few minutes later he excuses himself to go hide in the bathroom and nurse his hurt feelings. He knows you weren’t trying to be mean. Flipping around the suggestion to him most certainly came from a place of love. But he’s not interested in receiving any kind of psychiatric care—he’s actively opposed to it. So being told anything of that sort upsets him and often makes him angry.

Today it’s just salt in the wound, though. The wound itself is Emily. And god, does he ever feel guilty about the resentment that crops up every time her name is in your mouth. She was dead, and every day she was gone, he wished she weren’t. He cried countless tears over her and would’ve given anything to at least be able to say goodbye.

Then the impossible happened—she came back. He didn’t have to say goodbye at all. And sure, there was the initial relief and happiness, and the warmest hug ever, but now he finds himself resenting her. He’d never wish for her to be gone again, but he can’t stop the jealousy, no matter how hard he tries.

Recently, when Emily was shot during a case in California, he held back your hair as you leaned out of the door of the SUV and threw up upon receiving the news. Spencer Reid would never deny that he’s a germaphobe, but he wants that. He wants to be the one taking care of you, the one whose shoulder you fall asleep on, the one going home with you at the end of the day.

He doesn’t want Emily gone, never, ever again, but he wants you back. Those ten weeks, as awful as they were, weren’t the worst he’s had, because during that time, you were always seeking him out. He knows you didn’t want him that way, but if Emily had really been gone, he thinks one day, that might have changed. The thought always brings tears to his eyes.

Still, he would settle for having you the way he did during the years before he fell for you. Things just haven’t been the same since Emily came back. You don’t stay up late talking anymore. You haven’t a movie night in months. You don’t ask about the books he’s reading or what he did over the weekend. This is it: this is exactly what he was afraid of happening when he found you with Emily.

Spencer doesn’t think it’s personal. He thinks it’s because you’re barely hanging on these days, and just don’t have the energy anymore to do things like you used to.

It still hurts, though. He wonders if it’ll ever stop hurting.

---

Respite can come at the strangest of times and in the oddest of ways. Today, it comes to Emily in the middle of a hostage situation at a bank, in the form of a job offer.

The team is trying to find the I.D. of the Queen of Hearts, one of the robbers, when she gets a surprise call from Clyde Easter, her old Interpol Unit Chief, who gives her the information he knows about the unsub. He doesn’t know her name, but he reminds her that she’s seen the unsub before, at a robbery in Paris while she was living there. Then when the team learns that their unsubs want to fly out to Chad, she calls him back.

“Well, unfortunately Interpol doesn’t have many assets in that particular region in Africa. Maybe that’s something you could help me with when this is over.”

Emily scoffs. “Work for Interpol again? That’ll be the day.”

“Not work, darling. Run,” he corrects. “You see, I’ve been promoted. So, the team’s yours whenever you want it.”

“It’s a hell of a time to bring that up,” she says, ignoring the questioning glances she’s getting from you, Reid, and JJ.

Clyde asks her to think about it, but there’s no time to do that now. She pushes it to the back of her mind and goes back to work.

By the time the day is over, she’s tired. Just tired. You both narrowly survive the explosion in the bank thanks to the alcove you were in, trying to help two elderly patrons. Then a mere hour later, you scare the shit out of her by finding Will strapped to an active bomb and deactivating it yourself. So Clyde’s offer doesn’t come up again until the next morning, when light is spilling through the curtains, illuminating the bedroom with a soft, warm glow.

You face each other in bed, legs twined together under the covers. “What was that about working for Interpol again?” you ask softly, tucking your arm under your head.

“Clyde was promoted,” she replies just as quietly, as to not disturb the peaceful morning feeling. “He offered me his old job. He wants me to run the London office.”

Your eyes widen. “Wow.”

“Yeah.”

“How are you feeling about that?”

Emily blows out a breath. “I’d like to at least… consider it.”

You reach out, finding her hand in the sheets and lacing your fingers between hers. “What’s stopping you?”

“I’m sure you can guess,” she replies, squeezing your hand back.

“Well, then I think you’re more than just considering it,” you say. “You wouldn’t bring it to me if you didn’t want to take the job.”

Emily thinks for a moment, then admits, “I… I do want to take it. But I have to know what you think, honestly.” She was already robbed out of making one life-changing decision without you in this past year. She has no interest in that happening again.

“Honestly?” you repeat, shifting a little. At her nod, you continue, “I think it’s a good option for us.”

“Us?” she asks, eyebrows raising.

“Yeah, us,” you affirm. “What, you think I’m just going to stay here if you move away?”

She shrugs. “I don’t know, maybe. This is the first time we’ve talked about something like this.”

“Fair point,” you say, then sigh. “We’re… both struggling here in D.C., Em. I know it and you know it. This place, this team. It used to be my home, but now, I just… it’s not like it was before.”

“You don’t trust Hotch anymore,” Emily says quietly.

You let out a small, broken chuckle. “I’ve tried. I’ve been trying so hard. I know he did what he thought he had to, but I just… I can’t.”

“It’s okay to feel that way,” she points out. She lets go of your hand to reach up and wipe away a tear that breaks your lash line. “In fact, I’d say it’s reasonable, with what you went through.”

You close your eyes and nod, putting your hand on top of hers to keep it on your cheek. “I know it’s been hard for you, too.”

“Yeah,” she sighs. “I wanted to come back, and at first, I felt like I was home. But I just can’t go back to my old life and pretend that nothing happened. The only time I feel at home now is… well, it’s when I’m alone with you, just like this.”

“Emily Prentiss, I had no idea you were such a romantic,” you say, cracking a smile.

“Oh, stop,” she says, but she’s blushing. When your giggles subside, she speaks again. “I would love for you to come to London with me. But I don’t want you to forget what you’d be leaving. There’s still a lot of good here.”

You nod. “There is. I’m just not sure it’s enough anymore,” you say softly.

“I understand. You can think about it. I don’t need an answer now.”

So you don’t give her one, not right away. But you do a few hours later. So Emily picks up her phone and dials Clyde’s number.

---

JJ’s a beautiful bride, but Spencer’s eyes keep drifting over to you. The dress you’re wearing tonight is wonderful; from the cut to the color, it suits you perfectly. But that’s not what’s really got his attention. It’s the way you’re carrying yourself. You’re smiling, and you seem truly happy, without any reservations. But there’s also a bit of sadness clinging to you, and he can’t tell what’s causing it.

The party has been going on for a while by the time he finds himself dancing with you. You’d asked him, and now you’ve steered him a little ways away from everyone else. “There’s something I have to tell you,” you say just as he’s about to ask what’s going on.

To his dismay, he doesn’t have a clue what it’s going to be. He doesn’t like not having at least an idea. He swallows, then says, “Okay.”

You can’t meet his eyes; you look down to the floor instead and watch your feet move in time together. So whatever it is, I’m not going to like it, he thinks, and his anxiety spikes. “What is it?” he asks, tightening his grip on you without really meaning to.

You take a deep breath, then look up. “Emily and I are leaving.”

His heart drops and he stops in his tracks, causing you to stumble a little over his feet. “Oh, shi—sorry,” he says. “I just—you’re leaving the BAU? But you’re still going to be in D.C., right?”

You sigh, then guide him off the dance floor and to a quiet spot not too far away. “You remember what Emily said about working for Interpol again yesterday?”

“Interpol?” he repeats, his voice pitching upwards. “You mean, like, overseas?”

“London, to be specific.”

He opens his mouth but nothing comes out. He doesn’t know what to say. Things were a little rocky between you and him when Emily came back, and for a little while afterwards, sure, but recently he’d started to feel like he had his best friend back.

Apparently he couldn’t be more wrong.

Spencer’s used to people leaving. First it was his dad, then Ethan. Elle was next, quickly followed by Gideon. JJ was forced out, and although she ended up coming back, it didn’t erase the pain he felt in her absence. And then there was everything that happened with Emily.

So, Spencer’s used to people leaving. In a way, he almost expects it.

He just wishes it would stop hurting so damn much.

What is it about me? he wonders. What is it that makes people run away? There’s clearly something wrong with--

“Hey!”

He jumps, startled out of his introspection. When his eyes refocus on you, you put your hands on your hips.

“I don’t appreciate people being mean to my best friend, you know,” you tell him seriously.

“Uh…” He blinks a few times. “I’m sorry, I don’t follow.”

“That includes him being mean to himself,” you continue. “I know what you were thinking.”

“What? No, you don’t,” he protests.

“Don’t I?” You put the tip of your finger on your chin. “Was it or was it not something along the lines of, people always leave me, why do they do that, there must be something wrong with me?”

He hates that you’re right, so he doesn’t answer, just scowls and looks away.

“It’s not true, you know.”

“Sure,” he mutters. Sure it isn’t. You’ve only just added your name to the list.

“I mean it.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Look at me.”

Spencer doesn’t, and your resulting sigh sounds so frustrated, and then he thinks, Oh, great work, Reid. (Y/N) tells you she’s leaving and what do you do? You piss her off. Honestly, it’s no wonder--

And then your hands are on his face, cradling his cheeks, and he’s too surprised to resist your gaze anymore.

“It’s not your fault, Spencer,” you say, your voice equal parts firm and gentle. “You didn’t drive me away. Not even close. There’s nothing inherently wrong with you, okay? You didn’t do anything wrong.”

He sniffs, trying to hold back the sudden onslaught of emotions you’ve just caused. “Well, I could have gone without picking a fight with you on our first day back at work,” he says, sniffling again.

“What’re you tal—Spencer, that was almost a year ago.”

“Nine months.”

“Whatever. The point still stands. You’re not why I’m leaving, okay? You’re…” you trail off and he’s alarmed to see your eyes grow wet. “You’re the opposite, actually. You were the only thing keeping me here when Emily was gone. And now, you’re why it’s so hard to leave.”

“I am?” he whispers before he can think better of it.

“You are,” you affirm. “I think Emily’s actually a little worried you’re gonna talk me out of it.”

It gets a laugh out of him, but right after a little sob escapes him and he squeezes his eyes shut. When you hug him, he immediately reciprocates, wrapping his arms around your middle tightly.

“Hey, this isn’t the end, okay?” you say, and he can tell from the way your voice is trembling that you’re crying, too. “I know you like to ignore it, but we do live in the digital age, and I’ll be hounding you to talk to me at least once a week. You’re not getting rid of me that easily.”

“I’d certainly hope not,” he murmurs, resting his head on your shoulder.

The two of you stay like that for a while, just holding each other, trying not to cry too much. Eventually, you pull away. “Besides, it’s not like I’m leaving first thing in the morning. Our flight isn’t for another ten days. I’m gonna be around.”

Spencer nods. “Okay.”

“Okay,” you repeat, then swipe at your face, clearing away the tears. “Um, we should head back. You still owe me a dance.”

And dance with you he does, swaying gently from side to side with his hand resting on your waist. A look over your shoulder shows Emily and Derek dancing in a similar manner; judging by the way he’s holding her, she told him the news as well.

He has an eidetic memory, but Spencer makes the effort to commit this moment to his brain all the same. He wants to remember the way you’re holding him, resting your head on his chest and running your thumb over the back of his hand every so often. He wants to remember how your skin feels against his, the texture of your hair. The lighting in the backyard and the way it makes you glow. The words that you said, telling him that it’s not his fault, that nothing’s wrong with him. He’s not quite sure he believes it, but you’ve never lied to him before, so he’ll try to accept it.

The song ends, and tears threaten to fall again when you pick up your head and take a step back.

“Hey, no more crying tonight,” you say. “Because if you start crying, I’ll start crying, and I don’t want to cry any more tonight. Save it for my grand exit at the airport terminal.”

That makes him break into a smile and he’s able to blink back the tears. “Okay.”

“Do you mind if I take this dance?” It’s Emily, and she’s looking at him, head tilted in your direction.

“Oh, um.” He clears his throat. “No, um, go—go ahead.”

He passes your hand to her, and what he feels is silly. You’re not some prize to be won; you don’t belong to anyone other than yourself. But he feels like he’s passing you off to Emily, almost… entrusting you to her. The look Emily gives him makes him think she understands this.

“Wait,” you say before she can properly take you into her arms. You lean towards him and press a kiss to his cheek.

Spencer doesn’t stay around to watch you two dance. He retreats back into the house, fingertips on the spot you kissed. He lets them sit there for a moment, then forces himself to drop his hand. It’s far past time for him to try and move on. He doesn’t want you to leave, but it might be what he needs.

Maybe, just maybe, with some distance, he can begin to heal.

---

On the first day at work without you, Spencer finds a small frame on his desk. He immediately recognizes the picture inside of it—it’s the one you’d kept as your lockscreen for months, much to his dismay.

It’s a picture from the relatively early days of your friendship, well before he felt anything that wasn’t platonic towards you. You’d dragged him out on a weekend off to a nearby amusement park, because, “you can’t die without having ridden a roller coaster at least once, Spence.” He had no desire to do so, but he didn’t have any other plans, so he went along with it.

The roller coaster ended up making him vomit, and the picture is from shortly after that. You’re holding up the camera with one hand and making a peace sign with the other, smiling from ear to ear. He still looks a little queasy, only managing a small smile, but he still looks somewhat happy. And he was, that day. Other than the nausea, he’d had a lot of fun with you.

He picks up the frame and feels something on the back of it. He flips it over and finds one of his lilac colored post-it notes, displaying your handwriting.

“When it’s time to go, remember what you’re leaving. Remember the best. My friends have always been the best of me.”

Tears blur his vision. Doctor Who. Of course you picked Doctor Who. And you’ve written something else, too, in smaller letters:

If you don’t answer my calls at least twice a month, I’ll tell JJ you’ve been stealing from her Cheetos stash for eight years. Love ya.

He laughs out loud, a little wet giggle that he has to follow up with a sniffle. He slips the note under the frame’s felt backing to keep it safe, then rearranges his things until he settles on the perfect spot for it to sit on his desk. He retrieves a fresh sticky note and scribbles down a reminder to himself to call you when he gets home, sticking it the cover of one of his books. After all, he can’t have JJ knowing about his thievery. The team’s good at what they do, but he doesn’t think anyone would be able to find his body once JJ’s done with him.

His eyes drift back to the photograph, coming to a stop on your face. He misses you already. He even misses the ugly bits, when you’d snapped at each other, when you were crying on his shoulder. When he saw you with Emily that first time. It’s an odd mix of emotions. Longing, nostalgia, grief, happiness, safety. Belonging.

Remember the best. My friends have always been the best of me.

Spencer couldn’t agree more.

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

tell me what you thought here!

oh my god, i can hardly believe it’s over. there’s still going to be a small epilogue, but it’s optional. thank you, thank you, thank you, to everyone who read and supported this series and your enthusiasm for it. you’ve made me so very happy. and if you relate to spencer in this, i want you to know you’re gonna find your someone someday. if that’s what you want, i believe you’ll find it eventually. much love to all of you. 💖

series taglist: @sobereinstein , @zizzlekwum , @goldensatine , @closetedreidstan , @afuckingshituniverse , @uswntxx , @johnmulaneyslut , @90spumkin , @mcntsee , @zhuzhubii , @shadyladyperfection , @mggbler , @eva-cadeau , @esmesisle , @anothergayinthelife , @wecouldbreakthedistance , @zozoleesi , @calm-and-doctor , i think that’s everyone?? so sorry if i missed you.