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hopefullhearts · 2 months

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Sickeningly Sweet [Scott Miller x Reader - Twisters]

summary: You are Tyler Owens' childhood best friend and member of his storm chasing crew. A storm outbreak means you and the gang cross paths with Storm Par on more than one occasion, and your sweet southern charm drives Scott crazy (in more than one way).

content warnings: somewhat heated kissing, no use of y/n, light name-calling/teasing, not proofread/bad writing (I have not written a fanfic in forever), bad taste in candy, & i think that is all!

word count: 3.5k

a/n: I have not written or posted on tumblr in SO long but I saw Twisters for the glenn powell craze and left with a scott/david corenswet obsession and these thoughts must come out of my head.

Shoutout to @hederasgarden and @sailor-aviator for leading the charge for the Scott girlies. All of their writings and drabbles inspired me to write this one, so check them out!

If people like this I might do a smutty part 2! I don't mind writing smut I just feel like it's not very good hahaha but let me know what you think!

You heavily resented the idea that guys and girls could not just be friends, because you'd be damned if Tyler Owens wasn't the best friend you ever had.

You met on the playground in Kindergarten. A boy pushed you off a swing, Tyler defended your honor, and the rest was history.

Tyler's overprotective streak made you view him like the brother you never had, and that's how your relationship remained. He was family, and that was that.

Tyler had always been interested in tornadoes, more specifically, how to track and predict them. You, on the other hand, hated science, including weather, but you loved the thrill of the chase.

In college, you studied marketing while Tyler studied meteorology. So, when Tyler had the idea to start streaming his storm chases, you were right there with him to help grow his brand.

Tyler knows he would be stupid not to credit you with all his success. You set up his streaming account, you edited all the clips and drone footage to post to his social media after the fact, and you even gave him the idea for the "Tornado Wrangler" nickname.

Now that everything was off the ground, you mostly put together streaming highlights and designed the merch, but you were right there in the backseat for every single chase, soaking up all the thrills.

This particular storm outbreak was expected to be a big one, so the whole crew strapped in for a week of bad weather, cheap motel rooms, and of course, a few run-ins with other chasers, including the guys from Storm Par.

"Storm Par's here." You said, gesturing to the fleet of white vans parked at the gas station you had just pulled up to.

"Of course they are." Tyler sighed. "There's probably going to be a lot of damage done by these storms for them to swoop in on. Just ignore them."

"No, we should be polite." You chastised him. "I'm gonna go say hi. Will you get me a cherry coke please?"

Tyler fought back an eye-roll, but nodded with a smile as you both got out of the car. "Of course."

Like everyone else in the crew, the Storm Par guys got on your last nerve. They were all a bunch of Ivy League grads who thought a more expensive degree made them better than everyone else.

However, being raised by your Mama, the epitome of Southern grace and charm, you always put a smile on your face and treated them with kindness. You even occasionally brought them food or coffee if you ran into them in the aftermath of a storm.

And even though you were blissfully unaware of the fact, this drove Scott absolutely mad.

"Hi Scott, Javi." You said cheerfully to the two boys in charge.

Scott replied with a grunt, but Javi was quick to greet you with genuine enthusiasm. "Hey! How are you?"

"I'm doing well." You nodded, smoothing your hands over your athleisure skirt. "Excited for a good chase today. How about you guys?"

"Us too." Javi nodded. "We're hoping to finally get some solid data collection today."

"Ah." You nodded, unsure what to say. You hated the idea of what they were collecting data for, but Javi seemed like a nice enough guy, and Tyler ripped on them enough for the both of you.

"Something on your mind there, princess?" Scott finally spoke, glancing away from his tablet to look down on you (literally and figuratively).

You rolled your eyes. While you would normally love to be called a princess, it always sounded like an insult coming from Scott, his voice always laced with a touch of venom.

"No, nothing at all." You smiled. "Just wondering if we'll see you guys in the aftermath if there's any damage done?"

"Why? Are you looking to increase your t-shirt sales?"

You bit your tongue, doing your best to hold your composure and not let him get to you.

"Nope, just trying to figure out if we need to make some extra to-go boxes for you guys." You decided to focus your gaze on Javi instead, finding him less intimidating.

Javi opened his mouth to speak, but Scott beat him to the punch. "I think we can find food on our own, thanks."

You took a deep breath, choosing your next words carefully. "Okay, well, the offer always stands if you change your mind."

Javi smiled and nodded. "As much as I want to see a good storm today, let's hope we don't have a ton of damage clean up."

You smiled. You knew he had a heart.

"That's something we both can agree on." You grinned. "Stay safe out there you guys!"

With that, you turned and walked away. Scott watched you go, your hair and skirt blowing side to side in the wind.

"Stay safe out there you guys." Scott mocked you under his breath.

"Yo, you don't always have to be a jerk to her, you know."

Scott gave him an unamused look. "She comes out here with her little boyfriend, selling his t-shirts and shit, and then skips over here like we're the best of friends with her thick southern accent. It's all fake."

"For one, I don't think Owens is her boyfriend." Javi corrected. "And two, I think she's just a genuinely nice person. She always says hello, even when everyone else in their crew ignores us like the plague."

"Whatever." Scott mumbled.

As you reached the truck, you took the ice-cold Coca-Cola bottle from Tyler's outstretched hand.

"Thank you!" You said excitedly, twisting the cap off to take a sip.

"How are dumb and dumber?" Tyler teased.

"Javi was nice." You informed him. "Scott was... there."

"Ah, yes." Tyler laughed. "Word on the street is he's a man of many words."

"Right." You agreed sarcastically. "But, when he does speak to me, he always calls me princess, and it drives me crazy."

"In what way?" Tyler said, failing to hold back a smirk.

It took you a moment to realize what he was implying, but when you did, you were mortified,

"Tyler Owens!" You gasped, your face flushing red with embarrassment.

""I'm just teasing you! You make it too easy." He laughed loudly. "In my defense, he looks like exactly like every boyfriend you've ever had."

Your face got even warmer, because he was exactly right. You had a weakness for tall, muscular, dark-haired men, and you especially loved a man who was a challenge.

"That is...irrelevant." You said, covering your face in your hands out of pure embarrassment.

Tyler held his hands up in surrender, as you rushed to talk about anything but Scott. "Let's just figure out what storm we're going after, you jerk." You insulted Tyler, but the smile on your face was ear to ear.

Scott watched the interaction from afar, and his chest twisted at your sickeningly sweet smile. Even if you weren't Owens' girlfriend, your closeness was evident. He ignored the burning feeling that was rising within him, not wanting to question why it was there in the first place.

Tornadoes were scary, but trying to understand how he felt about you? Terrifying.

"Alright, boss man, which storm are we chasing?" Javi pulled him out of his thoughts with a hand clapped on his shoulder, and he finally pulled his gaze away from your smile, the sound of your laughter fading into the background.

The storm was bad.

It hit a small town of about 3,000 people, and you estimated based on the initial damage scene that it was an EF3 at best, maybe even an EF4.

You were currently handing out anything that might be helpful to families who had been impacted by the tornado - blankets, water, heat lamps. pre-made sandwiches and cookies. You tried to offer them any comfort you could with a smile and hug, but you understood the devastation they felt all too well.

In the early days, you would try to help with the damage cleanup, but Tyler insisted that you stay back at the camper and talk to the families.

At first, you were insulted, and you thought that Tyler was insinuating you weren't strong enough to move heavy tree limbs or pieces of drywall. You finally asked him about it one day, and he laughed.

"Absolutely not!" He insisted. "You just have this energy around you that's calming, and these families need that. Your empathy and kindness are doing much more for them right now than cleaning up a bunch of rubble would."

You had never thought of it like that, but once Tyler pointed it out, it became your mission to be the solace that these families in crisis needed.

"Is there anything else we can do for you, Mrs. Smith?" You asked, rubbing the arms of a middle-aged woman who you had been speaking to for a few minutes now.

"No, thank you." She sniffled. "I really appreciate you guys being here. God bless you."

You smiled, giving her another hug. "Please let us know if there's anything more we can do to help."

She nodded, walking away to join her family, who were staring at the remains of their house.

You pushed back tears, feeling silly that this never got any easier for you, but also focused on being the anchor that these folks needed.

Scott saw you before you saw him. He watched you from afar as you did your work. He watched you force a smile and hold these people as they cried. He also watched you look up to blink back the tears before taking a deep breath and moving on to the next.

And damn if it didn't drive him nuts.

This job is easier when he doesn't get involved with the people impacted. It's easier to pretend not to care. But watching you pour your heart out to strangers, just because it's the right thing to do? It made his heart jump, and that scared him.

Ignoring the people involved and ignoring his feelings for you had become increasingly more difficult with every chase.

"Scott!" You called, approaching him with a styrofoam container in your hand.

He sighed, mentally preparing himself as you literally bounced over to him.

How the hell does someone look this good after taking on a tornado?

"Here." You offered him the container. "It's just a ham and cheese sandwich and a cookie."

"I'm really not hungry." He responded.

"Seriously?" You asked, not buying it. "We've all been chasing since 10 AM and it's nearly 8, you have to be hungry."

Scott shrugged, trying to hold back the things he really wanted to say.

"Fine." You sighed. "We're right over here if you change your mind."

"Yeah, I know princess. It's hard to miss you being the town's savior over there."

Scott watched you visibly retract and he internally screamed as his heart dropped. You probably hated him, but it didn't matter anyway. You were far too sweet for him, so putting a wedge between the two of you seemed to be the smartest way to outrun his feelings.

"Wow." You spoke, your voice much smaller and shakier than usual. "I knew you were sarcastic and maybe even a little mean, but I never thought you were actually cruel. So, thanks, for enlightening me."

And with that, you turned and strutted off. This time, you failed to fight back the tears as you returned to the camper.

And to your horror, Tyler was there, taking a break from clean up for some water.

When Tyler sees you cry, his overprotective streak comes out instantly, and right now you didn't want to be protected, because you were so embarrassed that he finally got to you. You were even more embarrassed that you thought that just maybe, he might be a good person under that scowl and hard facade.

"Hey, hey, hey, are you okay?" Tyler rushed up to meet you.

You nodded, trying to stop sniffling. "I'm fine."

Tyler looked behind you to see Scott watching you closely, with a look that almost mimicked longing, and he quickly put two and two together.

"Let me handle this." He insisted.

You shook your head in protest. "No, Tyler, please, he thinks I'm a waste of time anyways, it's not worth it."

"Trust me, he doesn't," Tyler reassured you. "Let me handle this, and if it goes badly, I'll edit all the stream highlights for the next two weeks, okay?"

"Deal." You nodded.

You truly did trust him more than anyone in your life, so you opted to go inside the camper and dry up your tears while he went to speak to Scott. You would let Tyler handle it, but no way were you going to stand there and watch, looking like a puppy who just got kicked.

"Coming to defend your girlfriend's honor?" Scott said sarcastically, trying to mask any emotion he was feeling.

"Dude, seriously." Tyler glared at him. "If you want her attention being a complete and total asshole is not the way you get it."

"Is that what you think? That I want her 'attention'?" He said, framing the last word in air quotes.

"Yeah, I do." Tyler nodded. "I saw the look you gave her as she walked away."

"Okay, so what?" Scott shrugged. "You might be surprised to know I am human and I didn't mean to make her cry."

"Sure." Tyler nodded. "So, what about all the other times I've caught you staring at her, hm?"

Scott stayed silent, stunned speechless.

"Ah, you thought you were better at hiding it, didn't you?" Tyler said with a smug grin. "Every time we end up at the same gas station, restaurant, bar, or motel, your eyes follow her nearly the whole time. And don't even get me started on the holes you burn into my head when I'm talking to her."

"Alright, fine." Scott snapped angrily. "Here to rub it in my face then?"

Tyler sighed in frustration. "No."

"Then what?"

"I'm going to give you a piece of advice."

"Why?" Scott scoffed. "It's no secret that we aren't friends."

"I know her better than anyone else, do you want my help or not?" Tyler asked, his patience nearing its limit.

Scott didn't protest this time.

"Look, no matter what I think about you, you're pretty much exactly her type," Tyler said, much to Scott's surprise. "So if you want her, apologize and tell her how you feel."

"She's not going to feel the same, and she deserves much better than me." Scott retorted. "C'mon Owens, you know what we do. When she comes floating into these broken towns like a heaven-sent angel, I'm collecting data for the devil."

"That doesn't have to be a permanent problem." Tyler pointed out. "Plus, she likes a challenge, and she's definitely brave enough to think she can fix you."

That cracked a smile from both of them, followed by a moment of silence.

"218." Tyler said.

"What?"

"That's the room she's staying in tonight." Tyler said, starting to walk away. "Apologize."

Scott nodded, beginning to formulate a plan on how the hell he was going to get you to forgive him.

You were snug under your blanket in the motel room watching reruns of Modern Family when the knock came.

You sighed and got up, not bothering to check the peephole as you assumed it was just Tyler coming to talk about the day's events.

So when you opened the door to see Scott standing there, you couldn't be more surprised.

"What are you doing here?" You said quietly, nearly breathless at the sight of him.

It wasn't the first time you had seen him outside of that stupid Storm Par white jumpsuit, but it was the first time you had seen him in gray sweatpants and a tight black long-sleeve shirt that clung to his muscles in a way that you could only describe as sinful.

He towered over you, leaning against the frame of the doorway, and you nearly shuddered when you looked up to meet the intense gaze in his eyes.

"I brought you something. As an apology for being an ass earlier today."

"Oh, and what did you bring for all the other times?" You spat back, no longer in the mood to play nice with him.

"I deserve that." He sighed. "Can I come in?"

"Depends." You responded, and he raised an eyebrow. "What did you bring me?"

He handed you a plastic bag, and you opened it to find a Cherry Coke, Sour Patch Kids, and a Honey Bun.

All of your favorites.

"How did you know what I like?" You asked, curious to know if Tyler was behind this.

"You always get some combination of the three at any local gas station." He shrugged.

He remembered because the first time he saw you buy all three he physically rolled his eyes, because, of course, you would buy snacks just as sickeningly sweet as you.

"I didn't know you paid this much attention to me." You said softly.

"Yeah." Scott inhaled a sharp breath. "That's what I wanted to talk to you about. Can I please come in?"

You opened the door, inviting him in with the gesture. The door shut behind you, and there was a brief moment of silence between you two.

"I'm sorry, for being a jerk today and every other time I'm around you." Scott started, visibly nervous as he ran a hand through his hair. "I wish I had a better explanation for why I've been such an ass."

"Yeah, so let's hear it." You said, hands on your hips. "Because I have been nothing but nice to you, even though I don't like who you work for and what they stand for."

"I know." He nodded. "At first, I thought you were being fake or sarcastic because it was unfathomable to me that you would be nice to us when you have absolutely no reason to be."

You nodded, encouraging him to continue.

"But once I learned more about you, and I realized you were being genuinely nice," Scott took a deep breath, building up all his courage. "It knocked me off my feet."

"What do you mean?" You asked, confused at what he was getting at

"I spend most of my time pretending that I don't care about the people that are devastated by all of this, because it's easier that way. But watching you bear your heart and soul to all of these people, just because you can?" Scott scoffed. "It makes it hard to pretend like I don't care about them, or more importantly, about you."

"You care about me?"

"I do." He nodded. "And I was a jerk to you because I thought it would be easier to make you hate me than it would be to admit that I have feelings for you, when you're far too good for me."

His admission stunned you. You can feel your heart thumping out of your chest as you look into his eyes, which look painstakingly vulnerable.

"I completely understand if you don't feel the same way, but I couldn't outrun these feelings anymore, and I wanted to at least let you know that I'm sorry."

The room fell silent as you processed everything he just told you. Scott was panicking inside, waiting for what felt like years for you to say something, anything.

"Do you know why I was always nice to you?" You asked him. "Because I was hoping that somewhere in there you had a good side. I needed to know that you had a heart before I could admit to myself that I felt drawn to you."

"Do you still? Feel drawn to me?"

You nodded. Stepping closer to him so that you were nearly face to face.

"Can I kiss you?"

"Please." You nodded desperately, your words barely above a whisper.

His lips were on yours in a flash, and the pure intensity of the kiss nearly knocked you off your feet. It was heated and rough, but somehow gentle and passionate at the same time. His thumb grazed your cheek as he pulled you closer, and every spot his fingers touched made your skin feel like it was on fire. You couldn't get enough of him.

Once he knew you were comfortable, he took the liberty of exploring you more. His tongue slipped into your mouth gently and his teeth caught your bottom lip, causing a small whimper to come from the back of your throat.

Scott groaned at the sound, letting his mind imagine (not for the first time) all of the sounds he could pull from you.

When the two of you finally pulled away for air, he kept you close, his hands ghosting under your chin around your neck, forcing you to meet his eyes.

"You taste just as sweet as I thought you would," Scott said with a smirk.

"Shut up and kiss me again."

#scott twisters #scott twisters x reader #twisters x reader #twisters #twisters movie #twisters 2024 #scott miller x reader #scott miller #scott miller x you

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flaggermuser · 3 months

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When You Loved Me

1,209 words || Fluff, Spoilers for Season 4 Episode 4, Hurt/Comfort, GN Reader, Doctor Reader, Happy Ending, Childhood Trauma ||

Inspired by the idea that at least one doctor would have formed an attachment.

Thank you to @bisexualhomelander for being my beta

They're nearly all dead, there's just one loose end that Homelander needs to tie up.

So he stands outside the unassuming house, ready to cross the final name off his list, which he found in an old abandoned file documenting his ‘development’.

It was a stroke of luck that he found you - it seemed as if Vogelbaum scrubbed you from all official records.

Determined to finish what he's started, he knocks on your door and waits impatiently, ready to strike you down where you stand.

“I’m coming!”

He freezes, his entire body tensing up as your voice unlocks memories from his time in the lab, ones buried deep somewhere at the back of his mind.

A frightened and hurt little boy being held, being comforted after the incinerator and the other horrible forms of torture he was subjected to.

“Shhh, it's okay, you're okay. I'm here. Shall we read another story?”

The door slowly opens and there you are.

Now that he's seen your face, the memories are more vivid. There’s still that kindness in your eyes, the one he saw every night before he went to sleep.

At least, for a few months before you disappeared.

“Hello, John.” Your smile is still as warm as he remembers. “My, how you’ve grown. Come in, come in!”

With trepidation, he slowly enters, unsure of what he’ll find. It’s homely, filled with curiosities and everything he’s ever associated with a true American home. As he follows you into your living room, he notices some of the pictures on the wall with you and your former colleagues at Vought, some of whom he’s already killed.

“Would you like something to drink?”

“A glass of milk would be nice,” he replies, trying his best to smile while conflicting thoughts swirl in his mind.

He was so convinced that you were like the others that had you not spoken, he would have killed you the moment you opened the door.

“Well take a seat, I’ll be right back.”

He takes a seat on your couch, hands in his lap, looking around the room again. That’s when he notices the mantelpiece, covered in photos and newspaper clippings, all in ornate frames.

Not of your family - of him. They’re all of him.

Taking pride of place in the middle of the mantelpiece is a picture from several years ago.

“Don't worry John, it's just a camera. All I'm going to do is take a picture of just the two of us. I promise it won't hurt.”

He's sat on your lap, your arms around him, holding him tightly, protectively, a smile on your face.

He’s smiling too. He’s happy. He’s with you.

They took you from me.

“Here we go,” your return snaps him back to reality, his eyes softening as he notices the glass of milk in your hand and a plate of cookies in your other, settling it down on the coffee table in front of him.

It’s such a sweet gesture.

You take a seat in a nearby armchair, “It’s so wonderful to see you again.”

After all these years, you’re still this beacon of absolute kindness.

“Do I call you John or Homelander?”

“John.”

How did I forget how lovingly you said my name? How did I forget you?

“I’m so proud of you, you’ve done so well. And look at you, you’re The Homelander! Leader of the Seven!”

His lower lip quivers, trying to keep himself together but it’s proving harder. Your praise comes from a place of pure love, something he’s never experienced or at least, he can’t remember experiencing.

“I see you’ve noticed the mantel. I know I must seem mad but I’ve been following your progress.”

You cared about me, you care about me, it’s all genuine.

“You were so young when I last saw you, with that lovely little smile.”

You reach out to take his hand but he pulls away, only so he can take off his glove. It looks so small in his, he knows if he squeezes just a little, all your bones would be crushed to dust.

But he won't.

“The things we did. Oh John, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry that I didn’t do anything to save you. I should've stood up to Vogelbaum, I should've protected you."

Saved him, protected him - the regret is written all over your face.

They regretted their actions too, only after he reminded them. Then they apologised but it was too late for them, maybe it’s still too late for you.

He squeezes your hand, trying to comfort you.

“You know, I think about you every day. I wanted to reach out but I figured Vogelbaum would have any attempt at contact blocked, especially from me. All because I chose to be human.”

Human. They were human too and they tortured me.

It’s clear that is a sore subject for you, nowhere near as painful for him but the fact it makes you sad somehow makes him feel better. It shows that you cared.

“They fired me for ‘interfering with the experiment’ but how could I not?! You were scared, you were crying and they left you all alone in that horrid room.”

The bad room.

“I couldn’t just leave you there to cry yourself to sleep. So I volunteered to take the night shift. Do you remember… remember the first time?”

His jaw tightens, desperately searching his mind for even the tiniest hint of a recollection yet all of the torment he was subjected to has buried everything deeper.

“You were terrified that I was going to hurt you, your eyes glowed red and you trembled. I knew you didn’t want to hurt me but you would if you had to.”

You understood.

“It took you a few minutes to realise I wouldn’t hurt you - I think it was the books under my arm that convinced you I wasn’t a threat.”

A single flash - “Would you like me to read you a story?”

“I sat down on your bed, you sat on my lap and we read story, after story, after story. Until you didn’t want me to read anymore, you just wanted me to hold you. So I did exactly that.”

He desperately wants to remember, he needs to remember.

“Then Vogelbaum found out, I must have forgotten to turn the cameras off and I was removed from the project. I should’ve fought for you, I should’ve marched right back in there and demanded to take you. But I didn’t.”

But you’re here now. They’re all dead but you’re still here.

“I forgive you,” it slips out of his mouth, however, this time it’s heartfelt. He means this without malice.

You’re the parent he’d always wanted, living in a house he always dreamed of, serving him milk and cookies like he’s still that young boy you cared about.

Maybe it wasn’t too late, maybe there could be something here, born from the ashes of your past sin and his trauma.

Sniffling, you wipe away your tears, tightening your grip on his hand. When the smile returns, it’s affectionate and all for him.

“I want you to know, John. I need you to know, that you’ll always have a place here and in my heart."

#homelander #homelander fanfiction #homelander x reader #antony starr #the boys #the boys spoilers #homelander x gn reader #homelander x gn #season 4 spoilers #the boys season 4 spoilers

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ratthumbsup · 2 years

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already annoyed by misty calling nat stunning in the little clip they released. i'm gonna be so obnoxious this whole season huh,

#i HAVE reasons i'm annoyed.#most of them boiling down to i don't trust them to handle gay stuff in a way that is fun and interesting 😭#like. they have failed me twice in delivering fun and complicated and explicitly gay relationships between women #van and tai are boring. sorry. i am not compelled.#and the writers were like 'we're not really sure what the deal is between shauna and jackie but they're probably just friends :)'#and it SHOWS shauna and jackie are so so so close to being something awesome but it doesn't quite click together #and then getting to misty and nat. well i'm sure the writers saw the response that people love misty and nat together #and they are playing into that with this clip! in a way i do not trust!#especially bc i read an interview with christina ricci where she said most of her scenes are one on one with elijah wood 😐#so we'll see! sigh.#i'm so mad because this show is so so so so close to be really really good 😭

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tokiiwonz · 3 months

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best friend anton thoughts

tw: jealous anton, car sex, unprotected sex (don't), exhibitionism, allusions to manipulation, infidelity xD, eunseok was punched (i'm so sorry)

thinking about best friend!anton walking in on you touching yourself while moaning his name ♡ like damn, you just can't help yourself; you grew up together, laughed with each other, even cried with each other—you're not going to just let any other person have their way with your man, not by any chance and fortunately for you, anton thinks the same

best friend!anton who knows you have feelings for him and decided to get a girlfriend for himself just to mess with your head. he swears it's nothing romantic, and that he just wants to see you get jealous over someone else.

best friend!anton who gets mad jealous after finding out that you're in a relationship with someone in his friend group. he's known for being usually a chill laid-back type of guy but the moment the news broke out, he didn't hesitate to punch eunseok for taking what's supposed to be his.

best friend!anton who recklessly drags you to his car before roughly kissing you in the backseat. he never thought that his silly little plan would backfire at him, and to him, it's all your fault. you need to be put to your place for getting back at him.

he never hid his liking for your strawberry-flavored chapstick. one could argue that he has used more of your chapstick than you did, and he never imagined how good it would taste when he's tasting it on your lips.

best friend!anton who is a shameless manwhore. given everything that had happened, he takes his phone out before recording you both making out in his car. a documentation, at least according to him. he shows off how he makes your pretty lips bleed with the way he bites it; all swollen and needy for whatever he's about to give you, taking lots of pictures and clips of all the hickeys and bite marks he left before sending it to their group chat.

best friend!anton who has you bouncing on his lap, tearing up as you struggle to take his fat cock. god, he loves the way you cry for some dick. no ones supposed to make you cry like this but him, and as he was thinking that, he couldn't help himself but to clench his jaw and drag his cock deeper into your warmth.

you felt so full, on a high if you will, having his cock bulging your stomach with every thrust. it doesn't help you much that you could feel him drag every inch of his cock deeper and deeper. neither did having you wrapped so tightly around him helped anton—he feels so lightheaded with how tight and small you feel against him—he’s got you all stuffed up, soaked and quivering, riding him as he hits the softest spot inside you.

anton has always taken pride in his work, and your vulnerability under his control right now has only fed his already-big ego.

he's shameless on where he puts his kiss marks on; on your cheeks, neck, shoulders, anywhere he finds enticing, really. “i didn't say stop, did i? i said don't you fucking dare stop riding this fat cock. you're going to show & tell eunseok who fucks you this good.”

and before you could even give a proper response, a whimper escaped your lips as you felt anton’s harsh thrusts up into you repeatedly. he hit your prostate in many ways he could—your toes curled up as anton let everyone hear your moans.

“thaaat’s it, doll,” he groaned as he throws his head back in pleasure. “riding so good for me. go make a show, show how my pretty boy rides tonnie's cock.”

best friend!anton who likes to humiliate and make you feel small ♡. rumors has it that it's hard to deal with a mad anton due to how annoying he could be, but you think otherwise. you're very much willing to do everything to get his hands all over your body, even if it means to anger this mad man (which pretty much explains how poor eunseok was dragged into this mess)

"who told you to act like some kind of street whore, hm? i'm giving you just enough attention, aren't i? am i not enough for you to get a boyfriend? fuckass slut.”

best friend!anton who's temperamental. one moment he's splitting your hole open, the next he's making you his pillow prince (it counts, even if you're at the back of his car). he's just so obsessed with messing with your head even when he's fucking you—he wants you to be dependent on him, because you're his and his only ♡ kiss your forehead while his hands were wrapped around your neck? you got it. making you cry with his thick cock while cuddling you? you got it.

anton may seem like some kind of playboy, even a fuckboy, to other people, but he has never slept with anyone but you. his cum stained fleshlights and self clips were his testaments. he just loves you so much, ok? ♡

"got what you needed, doll face? a good dick down from me? yeah, that's it... anyway, wanna come over later?” he pecked your lips as he cummed inside you and smiled. “keep my cum inside you, alright? i’ll eat you out later when we get home.” you giggled as he pressed a soft kiss on your forehead before preparing to drive.

#niko's... thoughts 💭#kpop x male reader #kpop smut #riize smut #riize anton #riize x male reader #riize x reader #anton smut #anton scenarios #riize scenarios #riize imagines #anton x male reader

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luveline · 2 years

Text

𝐬𝐢𝐜𝐤 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐚𝐲𝐛𝐞 | 𝐚𝐚𝐫𝐨𝐧 𝐡𝐨𝐭𝐜𝐡𝐧𝐞𝐫

You worry your boyfriend is ashamed of you. This is very much not the case. Or, 5 times Hotch hid your relationship (+1 time he didn’t).

7k words, new-ish established relationship, lots of fluff between angst, hurt/comfort, fem!reader, civilian!reader, reader calls him aaron mostly

༺༻

The security for Aaron's building is weird. Weird as in extensive, intimidating, and extremely intricate.

You'd really wanted to minimise his stress — the whole reason you're here is to bring him a forgotten sheet of paper that must've slipped out at your kitchen table from one of his case files because you don't want him to have to make up a new copy — but you're too scared to go in.

You pull your phone out reluctantly and dial in his number, eager to hear his voice even if the security detail a few feet away are freaking you out.

"Hotchner."

"Hi, handsome," you say softly.

There's a small pause. For a split-second a nightmare situation runs through your head, his low voice asking, Who is this?

"Hi, honey."

You beam so wide it aches, forcing a pleased little breath from your mouth.

"What do you need?" he asks.

"I'm outside of your building but I'm too afraid to come in. I'm not sure they'll let me. I need a badge, right?"

"You're outside."

You pick at the hem of your sweater, a loose thread marring your otherwise pretty outfit. You'll admit to dressing up unnecessarily to see him. Nice clothes, your most subtle perfume.

"I found something confidential this morning, a piece of paper. I didn't read it, I promise."

"You really shouldn't be here," he says.

Your smile abruptly drops. You press the phone closer to your face and wait, hoping he's not talking to you. When it's clear that he is you cringe, the silence pervasive and the most awkward it's ever been with him.

"Sorry." Your apology is quick, quiet. "I thought it would be easier for you. I didn't mean to… overstep."

"It's not that. It's busy. Would you hang on to it for me? Maybe I can come and get it tonight, bring dinner."

You love how he says it. It's not a question, not an assumption. And it's a relief. If he wants to see you on a night where you hadn't planned to get together, he can't be mad at you for being here.

"Yeah, please. If you want to."

"I want to. Okay?"

Not for confirmation, it's shorthand. You okay?

"Yeah. Okay. Have a good rest of your day, handsome."

"Bye."

You like to think you can hear the sound of his phone clicking shut, imagining him at his desk in one of his neat suits with a case file open in front of him. You're not sure on the specifics of his job but you know he looks good doing it, and you also know he's very, very busy. You don't take his clipped goodbye as anything but efficiency.

Maybe you should.

—

The next time Aaron inadvertently hurts your feelings is in person.

Compared to him, you wouldn't say you're an incredibly exciting character. Your day job is tame, your hobbies are invaried. You like to watch TV, see movies, you enjoy people-watching. When you hold that stuff up to his job, his profiling, and his hobbies (seriously, who likes triathlon?) you feel rather immature.

You know deep down that hobbies are hobbies and that your job doesn't define how special you are, but when you're with someone like Aaron who lives and breathes his profession it can play with your head.

"Is there something interesting about my shirt?" he asks, a murmur under the sound of the TV.

You look up from the hem of his nice button down and smile, a half-smile. You want it to be more genuine than it is. "Don't you already know?"

"What do you mean?"

"You can tell I'm…" You frown, dropping the starched material of his shirt from between your fingers. "I've given myself up, haven't I?"

"A little," he concedes sympathetically.

You huff your defeat and let your cheek fall into his chest. Nice to seek comfort from him, nicer for him to give it to you, his arm rising from behind your shoulders to hook around your neck.

"I'm not profiling you," he says, voice close to the top of your head, "I'm wondering what you're thinking."

You relax under his touch, his big hand settling in the curve of your neck. A semi-hug. It doesn't take long for you to melt into his front completely, your unhappy thoughts dissolving with any tension and leaving only a want to kiss his stupidly nice neck.

"It doesn't matter," you say.

"You sure?"

You lift your head from his chest. He has to lean back to meet your eyes and he does it unflinchingly, a bemused smile playing on his lips.

"I'm good. Better, if you would…"

"Yeah?" he asks quietly, leaning down, down.

You can't withstand his charms. He knows exactly how to get you, his smile and his eyes, his lashes kissing in the corners as they close.

He's imposing in the best way, a heavy presence that overwhelms you. All you can think about is the way he nudges his nose with yours to encourage your head back and the heat of his lips as they touch your own. His arm tightens behind your head.

You try to rise onto your knees, hands vying for his neck and his pitch dark hair. You're doubly pleased when you feel his mouth turning up into a smile, a mirror of your own.

"Slow down," he chides gently.

You're about to say something unlike yourself, something loud and brash. Speed up, Hotchner. You're hopped up on the giddiness that comes with being close to him. You're just about to say it when his phone rings.

He gives you a short, hard kiss.

"Hotchner."

You sit back in his lap, his hand sliding to the small of your back to keep you close as his face clouds with confusion. You attempt to climb off of him because you're not a sack of sugar — you're probably giving him numb thighs — but he won't let you.

"Garcia," he says eventually, "is this an emergency?" His tone makes it clear to you that whatever it is Garcia is saying, it's far from an emergency.

His hand climbs up, over your shoulder. You shudder as he tugs your earlobe, a mild and thoughtless gesture. You're so busy shivering you almost miss his playful eye roll.

"I haven't changed my mind. Yeah. Thanks for the invitation, but I'm perfectly happy where I am tonight."

Whatever Garcia says makes him laugh. If you weren't sitting as close to him as you are you wouldn't have heard it.

"Have fun. Bye," he says succinctly. He snaps his phone closed in one hand, the other dropping from your ear to your shoulder. It's heavy with a remorse you can't allow. "Sorry."

"Doesn't matter," you assure, tilting your head toward his hand and pretending to size him up. You don't know how to profile, but you're a good guess.

"You're not telling me something."

"No?" He blinks in surprise.

"No. You've been invited somewhere with your work friends, and you usually go. Why not tonight?"

"I think that's obvious."

"You don't have to flake on your friends for me, Aaron."

He smiles as you say his name. "Like I told Garcia, I am perfectly happy where I am."

You hide your face in his neck lest he see your doped up smile. "You have nice friends," you murmur, working your hands under the hem of his shirt.

"I think you'd love Garcia after the infinitial terror."

"I think I would too. She's good to you, after all. Makes me like her… Maybe one day we can all go out for drinks."

You don't have to be a profiler to feel the way he tenses.

"Yeah," he says. It sounds very much like Probably not.

That's a strumming hurt. Aaron is so nice, so so nice, and he treats you like you're gold dust. He does all the movie boyfriend stuff like flowers, silver earrings on your birthday (with tiny diamonds!), dinner reservations at dauntingly fancy restaurants. And he does stuff you didn't know men did, like calling you near every night to make sure you had a good day, and praising even your smallest achievements, and leaving notes in places he knows you'll find them on hard days. You don't know how he knows when days are hard, he just does.

You'd figured all of this stuff meant he must really like you, might even love you though he's yet to say it, and that's why his lack of enthusiasm stings.

Why doesn't he want you to meet his friends? He's obviously very proud of what they do at the BAU. They're not the issue.

It's you.

You cuddle him as a pit forms in your chest.

"You're tired?" he asks.

Funny how it's his comfort you crave when he's the one who's hurt your feelings. You're a little lopsided being upset with him, and you know if you tell him how you feel he'll try to make it up to you, but you're too afraid of the other alternative — a fight. Right now his arms are a sanctity you wouldn't trade for anything. You hope he feels the same.

You're not sure anymore.

"Yeah," you say roughly.

Your eyes burn as he pats your back. "Let's go to bed, honey."

You'll just… have to prove you're someone worth showing off.

—

Your plan, loosely titled 'Get Aaron Hotchner to Show Me Off,' is going about as well as you'd thought it would.

If Aaron doesn't want me to meet his friends there must be a reason. You've been thinking about it and it can't be a coincidence that he hadn't wanted you to return his paperwork a few weeks ago. That must've been something significant.

But what?

You start with your hair. Aaron has expressed a lovely and heaping handful of times that he thinks you have pretty hair. He plays with it often, usually when he's limp and tired from a long day. You've always taken care of it. Now you're going to the extreme — hair masks, hair appointments you can't afford, anything to make it look perfect.

It doesn't work toward the plan, though your boyfriend certainly notices.

"Your hair," is the very first thing he says when he sees you, stopping only in his smiling assessment to kiss your cheek in greeting.

"Is it okay?" you ask, turning your face to one side.

"More than okay. Do you want to go in?"

So it's kind of a bust. But that's okay, you weren't expecting to get a haircut and magically be invited to team dinners. You persevere, and eventually you forget the plan for the night when Aaron promises to show you how much he likes your new look with a hand at the small of your back.

Phase two, your clothes.

You dress as nicely as you can but you're no fashion guru and you can't afford an entirely new wardrobe. You get a bunch of magazines and look for fall staples. What's in this year, and how do you style it? You buy a couple of pieces that fit your budget and try to work around them.

Aaron's favourite are the new corduroy pants. They aren't a great fit.

"They're too tight," you lament, pulling the fabric from your thighs where they hug snugly. They're a desaturated sort of burgundy, not bright by any means but a good 'pop of colour'.

"I know," he says.

You gawp at him, and when he gets his fingers on the buttons afterward, you break.

"You like them?" you ask worriedly.

"What makes you think I don't?"

"Besides how eager you are to get them off of me?"

He hooks two fingers in your belt loops and holds your gaze as he tugs them down. "I like them."

A good time, but still no dice. You suppose a new look, besides looking smarter, doesn't actually prove your merit as a girlfriend. Maybe he wants something a little more concrete before he introduces you to people. Maybe things aren't as good for him as they are for you, and he doesn't see the point.

That particular thought sparks a wave of panicked tears.

The next time you see him, it's like he can tell. You wonder if he has x-ray vision, some sixth sense for tear stains that he has yet to tell you about. He's been gone for a few days in St. Louis, and when he'd come back he'd spent the weekend with Jack, so it's a whole seven days since the last time you saw him and your worries have festered. Not even his doting phone calls had kept the thought at bay.

Maybe I'm not a good girlfriend.

You open your door and there he is in a quarter zip with an overnight bag, matte suit cover draped over one arm.

"Hi," you say, unsure.

"Did I get uglier while I was away?" he asks seriously.

You startle. "No, of course not."

He smiles and meets you in the doorway, your head dipping back to accommodate. "I think I've had it too good," he says lightly, bringing a tentative hand to your cheek. "Are you okay?"

You're trying to work out what he means, and when you do your heart skips. "Handsome!" you say urgently. "Hi, handsome. No, you didn't get uglier, I'm sorry, I wasn't thinking, and-"

He kisses you. It's malaligned because of your parted lips, but it's good. You'd really missed him.

"You're definitely still handsome," you murmur.

"Doesn't count. I begged for it-"

"No!" you deny, lifting on tiptoes to give him another kiss and stop his slander. "It does count because you're always handsome, I promise. I think I slept too much and miswired my brain when I woke up."

"I don't mind that you didn't call me handsome," he says firmly, "now let me in. We have dinner to make."

"Right, sorry."

Aaron frowns at you, then. It's weird. He frowns at his phone, at the TV, at nothing, but he doesn't frown at you.

"Is something wrong?" he asks as you traverse down the hall. You hold your hands out for his suit and bag to take to your room and hang up, ignoring his question. He doesn't give them to you. "Is there?"

"No." You smile as you say it.

You're an awful liar, especially with him. He makes you more nervous than anyone because he's your boyfriend and because he's a literal human lie detector.

"You didn't even try."

You cover your face with both hands and groan dramatically, spinning around and away from him. You don't want him to see how flustered you are.

"Don't make fun," you beg.

"You're embarrassed."

"Teach you that at the Bureau, do they?"

You stop in the doorway of the kitchen, distracted by your own racing thoughts when suddenly there are two long arms needling around your waist and pulling you backward. You gasp a laugh and squirm uselessly to escape.

"I'm sorry," he says quietly.

You tip your head back, hands falling from your face in surprise. "What for, handsome?"

His laugh fans out over your face but when he speaks again there's no humour there, only sincerity, "For being gone so long."

"Well don't be. You can't exactly help it, Agent Hotchner," you hum.

"Oh, don't."

"Going out and saving the world takes time. I knew that when I met you, 'n I know it now. You don't have to say sorry."

"I'm not apologising for my work. I'm apologising that we've," — his nose presses into the highest point of your cheek — "been apart."

"I did miss you," you relent.

He presses his lips to your cheek. "I missed you too."

It's a nice distraction. You'd missed one another, and now you're together. You forget for a while what you'd worried, and only when he leaves again do you remember.

Maybe I'm not a good girlfriend.

You're not stupid enough to think Hotch is using you for anything, or that he's insincere. You're level-headed, though. His affection for you isn't necessarily permanent no matter how genuine.

You don't want to be overbearing. The offers start slow.

I can wash that for you. Of course I'm sure, I'm great with whites.

Maybe I could make you lunch tomorrow. You can take it in, spare yourself the federal cafeteria.

Yeah, I got them shined for you. They were looking a little dull at the toes.

"Do you want me to press these?" you ask.

Aaron looks up from where he's sitting in bed. You'd been out on a foray to the bathroom and have come to a stop by his bedroom door where a pair of black slacks hang in wait for the morning.

He pushes a darling pair of reading glasses up the bridge of his nose. "No."

"Are you sure? It won't take five minutes."

"I'll do it in the morning."

"I can do it for you, then. Just wake me up," you say, pushing back the sheets on the empty side of his bed. Your socked foot bumps his thigh as you pull up your legs. "What are you reading?"

He puts his book on the nightstand, takes off his glasses. It's too bad. He really suits them.

"I want to talk to you about something."

You laugh and slide down onto the flat of your back.

"What?" he asks, confused, the tiniest hint of amusement in his eyes.

"It's unlike you to start that way. You always cut around the fat." You bring his bed sheets up to your nose and squint at him. "'M I in trouble?"

"Depends."

"On what?"

"You know I care about you."

Your heart somersaults. That feels very much like a break-up opener, and he must see your anxiety on your face. He wrangles your hand from under the sheets and leans over you, his face in your eyeline, his fingers massaging yours until they ache in the good way.

"Do you know how much?" he asks.

"Is that a trick?"

"No."

You wait in case there's something he's going to add. When there's nothing, you pull the sheets to your chin and tamp down your perplexed pouting.

"Yeah, I know how much."

"I'd like to tell you how much." He pulls your joined hands toward his jaw. "I know I'm not always here, but I'm always thinking of you. In roundabout ways."

"What ways?" you ask. Self-indulgence.

Aaron Hotchner indulges you.

"I see," — he kisses your hand — "trees. I've seen a thousand trees, but when I see the bigger ones I wish you could see them too."

It's a dropping sensation, near uncomfortable, that's how gutted his confession makes you feel. "You do?"

"Sometimes women walk past me and I swear that it's you because they smell like your perfume. Flowers growing through cracks in the sidewalk. Lights through the jet window." It's the kind of stuff you like to point out to him when you're together.

He stares at you, a long, reassuring look.

He deserves a better reply, but all you can say is, "I think of you all the time, too."

"I love that you want to take care of me, but you don't need to wear yourself out."

You bite the inside of your bottom lip. So that's what this is about. Aaron has profiled you, and now he's being the gentleman that he is and assuaging your fears.

"I'm not," you say quickly.

He understands that you're saying I'm not wearing myself out rather than I'm not taking care of you. You are taking care of him, the best that you can, the best that he'll allow.

"I can press my own pants," he says, leaning down for a kiss. "I can shine my own shoes." He kisses you again. You screw your eyes closed as the warmth of his breath heats your cupid's bow. "I can do my own laundry." He pulls back, dropping your hand in favour of your neck. His thumb pushes against your windpipe gently, palm hot over your skin. "I'll accept the lunches, if you're sure you don't mind making them."

You feel as excited as you did the very first time he touched you, chest full of a dizzying pleasure, heart bump-bump-bumping a racing rhythm. His thumb strokes a lazy quarter circle into your neck. He can probably feel your pulse, see the way your eyes have blown.

"I love making them," you say, breathless in earnest.

"The team think I'm spoiled."

"You aren't spoiled." You're adored, you want to say. You cup his cheek instead. "You'd be spoiled if I brought them by everyday."

Aaron doesn't stay with you and you don't stay with him enough to make him lunch everyday. He might get one or two a week, and that's when he's home.

"Wouldn't that be nice," he mutters, his fingers pushing between your neck and the pillow underneath.

You hike up on to your elbows slowly to avoid headbutting him. "Well, I could."

His easy, loving smile flattens. "No."

"I wouldn't mind. My lunch break is super long and it only takes me ten minutes to get there. We could have lunch together."

"That's not going to work."

"Okay." You wish you could take it as calmly as he says it. You sound choked up. You are choked up.

"Sweetheart, the office is a war zone. Half the time I'm not there."

"I get it," you say, dropping flat onto your back again.

"Sweetheart."

"Handsome," you mirror, putting on your best unaffected smile.

You can't hold it very long, his concerned brows too much to deal with. You turn your head to the left and turn off the lamp on the nightstand, throwing at least half of your expression into darkness.

Aaron doesn't give up. Does he ever? He cups your cheek and pulls you back to face him.

"I can't promise any lunch dates. But I was thinking we'd go out for dinner next week, Friday," he begins hopefully, "somewhere nice."

It feels like an apology and you're desperate to take it.

"I don't need somewhere nice, s'long as you're there 'n not in Kansas, or Colorado, or Idaho, or New Jersey-"

He hums and drops his head until his nose lies against your own. "Gonna go through all fifty?"

"You'd like that, wouldn't you, Hotchner?"

"I love your voice," he says agreeably.

Disarmed, you let him charm you, and you let him push it all out of your mind. Plan foiled, your fears fall on the backburner for a third time.

—

His fourth rejection is the first that feels entirely intentional, though you won't know until later.

Mostly because Aaron pushes you.

Far from cruel, the two of you are actually out walking in the city when he forces you into an alleyway, your fancy drink sloshing down the front of your sweater.

You laugh in surprise and almost roll your ankle, hands clinging to his coat to stop an unfortunate fall.

"Holy shit, Hotchner, learn to be a gentleman," you say as he presses up against you. "What are you doing? I'm soaked, you're gonna ruin your sleeves."

He kisses you hard. It's a surprise, your head jumping back against the wall to find his hand already there to protect it.

It's worth noting that Aaron is a sweetheart in practically every aspect of life. He once apologised after having walked in on you changing, which is ridiculous because most of the nights where you're together he insists on getting you some sort of undressed (even if it's just to help you into your pyjamas).

Needless to say, he's never kissed you like this. Your emotions spike so suddenly you laugh into his mouth, a girlish peel of giggles that you'll regret afterward but can't stop for the life of you.

He shushes you. "Sorry," he whispers, as ill-composed as you've ever heard him. "Sorry, just-" He cuts you both off with another bruising kiss.

Your laughter fades into sighs and little gasps for air. Somewhere near the alleyway opening a group of people pass by, a jovial series of cheers and friendly laughter trailing behind them. Aaron presses you further into the wall behind, and slowly, slowly winds down. Weirdly, you think his last couple of pecks feel sorry, softer and sweeter.

Your lips buzz.

"Why'd you buy me that fancy drink if you were gonna tip it all over me?" you ask good-naturedly when he finally pulls back.

"You looked too nice today." His deadpan voice wars with the smile on his face. "I'm sorry. We'll go find you something to change into."

"Was it really that important that you kiss me right then?" you ask, feigning disdain.

He looks out toward the main street again. "Yes. Where do you want to go? There's a Nordstrom."

You take a sip of your drink, unsurprised when he takes your hand and starts to lead you toward the department stores. "Have you ever been inside of a Nordstrom?"

"I'm sure I'll figure it out."

—

The fifth time is the straw that breaks the camel's back. Or the brick. It feels heavier than a strand of straw. It's technically already come to pass, so it's an invisible brick.

You're out for coffee by yourself which really means you're out for something sweet, bundled up in a coat and scarf to fight the night-time chill.

"Thank you," you tell the barista, accepting your drink and receipt with a smile.

You turn around and almost walk straight into a pretty dark-haired woman with really nice hair. You make a note to tell Aaron about it when you see him next, not because he'll care but because he likes to hear what you've been thinking about. And right now, all you can think about is her feathered bangs.

I want nice bangs, you think offhandedly.

"I'm sorry," you say, trying to move around her.

She steps into your path.

"Sorry," you say again.

She's squinting at you, thin eyebrows peeking out from behind her hair. "Sorry, have we met?" she asks.

You try not to be too hasty, but you're not sure you've ever seen her. You stare at her as she stares at you, and you get a tiny inkling of familiarity, but it's gone as quick as it comes.

"I'm really sorry, I don't think so," you murmur, tilting your head to one side.

She bites her lip, let's it go. "Oh!" she says excitedly, voice bright with triumph. "Oh oh oh! I know who you are, you're Hotch's mysterious girlfriend!"

Your smile turns quizzical. You know nearly everybody calls Aaron 'Hotch'. Whenever you try it he either gives you the silent treatment or covers your mouth with his hand.

"I'm Emily Prentiss, I work in the BAU," she explains rapidly, shoving her purse under her hand to offer it for a handshake.

You do the same and shake her hand. Introducing yourself feels awkward. She knows you. You don't have a clue who she is. Only-

"Oh, I know who you are now, I'm sorry I didn't recognise you before!" you say contritely. "I've seen photos of you and the team together. It's really nice to meet you."

She nods. "It's nice to meet you too. I have to say, we've been dying to meet you. We even have a betting pool on what you're like, because Hotch barely says a thing about you."

You try not to look as devastated as you feel, re-wrapping your fingers around your cup. "No?"

"We didn't even know what you looked like until we saw you the other day. We came looking to say hi and you'd disappeared."

You lick your dry lips. "The other day?"

"Yeah, last Friday. We were out for impromptu drinks, celebrating a case. You know, you should come with sometime. It would be fun."

Emily talks each word with an undertone of good humour. She's stunning, bubbly, and her hair flows around her face with every movement.

"He really doesn't talk about me?"

Emily drops into girl code niceties, backtracking. "I mean, not too often. We catch him smiling at his phone and hear your voice sometimes when you call. He seems happy. Well, happy as Hotch can seem." She swallows. "He's a private creature."

He doesn't talk about me.

You pretend to check your watch.

"It was really good to meet you," you say, voice airy with a feigned nonchalance.

"Yeah, of course. Super nice," Emily says.

You smile at her. It's more like a grimace. By the time you're outside of the coffee shop you're too upset to care, a humiliated shock of tears brewing behind your achy eyes.

You hold your cup to your chest and unzip your purse to tuck the receipt inside, trying to maintain some control. There's a folded note inside, thick cardstock quartered.

You take it out. Your fingers tremble with offended adrenaline.

You're beautiful.

Short, sweet, extremely Aaron Hotchner. Too bad you can't believe it.

Emily Prentiss being out and about means the BAU are done for the night, though whether your workaholic boyfriend got the memo is anyone's best guess. You're not sure if it's better or worse if he's in work when you call. You're so upset that you can't help yourself.

"Hi, honey."

"Do you really think I'm beautiful?" you ask, staving off tears with all your willpower.

"I wouldn't write it if I didn't mean it. That one took you a while to find, I was-"

"Are you sure?"

"...Are you okay?"

You glare up at the dark sky rather than answer, blinking hard to force down your tears. You really don't wanna cry, but it's been a bad day and meeting Emily has made it worse. No matter how hard you try to think otherwise, all signs point to Aaron being ashamed of you. Embarrassed to be with you. He's hiding your relationship from everybody.

"Am I- Is it my clothes? My job?"

"What's wrong with your clothes?"

"You tell me, detective."

You're getting angry. He's- he's lying, or he's messing with you. He's making fun of you. At least that's how it feels.

"Where are you right now?" he asks. You can picture him shrugging on his suit jacket, putting his files in order to come and meet you.

You don't want to see him. "I'm at the coffee shop by your apartment. I actually ran into somebody, and I'm feeling very well-informed." A first tear bumps down your cheek. You ignore it.

"I don't understand."

"I don't understand! What am I doing wrong?" You bite your tongue in last ditch efforts to remain intact, but the tears won't hold off any longer. You swallow a sob. "What's wrong with me?"

"Nothing. Nothing, honey, nothing is wrong with you."

You wipe your wet face with mean hands.

"Stay where you are. I'll come and meet you."

"No. I don't wanna see you."

"Honey-"

"Leave me alone, Aaron."

You hang up. You walk for a while, feeling as though steam is rising off of your flushed skin with every clumsy step. It had been a short phone call and already you can't remember what you said, all you can feel is angry, and then that runs out and all you can do is cry.

You've never felt incredibly attractive. Aaron makes you feel better than that — he has the uncanny ability to inspire self-confidence with a loaded look alone. He can smile at you and your skin feels like it's glowing.

So why doesn't that translate? If he thinks you're so pretty, why does he insist on hiding you away?

Because that day, he'd seen his friends. He could've introduced you but he took you down the alley and kissed you so you wouldn't be seen. That's not too busy: That's secretive.

That kiss. You fooled yourself into thinking you must've looked irresistible. Fuck. You went home that night thinking you were the best thing since sliced bread.

"I'm so stupid," you mutter, sniffling.

Your self deprecation is muffled by the sound of a slowing car. You don't look up. There are two possibilities for who it is, and you don't want to deal with either.

The car parks and then you do look up. Despite how mad you are you're not suicidal, and Aaron's given you extensive coaching on sex trafficking.

It's him. Shocker.

You're half-expecting him to reprimand you. You didn't look up until I parked. You know it takes five seconds to snatch and incapacitate someone?

He looks haphazardly put together. Suit jacket on but tie loosened, he rounds the hood of his car and joins you on the sidewalk. You don't want to play games with him. He really doesn't need it, he didn't sign up for it, and drama isn't your style, but you're sick of this.

"You want to tell me what you're thinking?" he asks, standing an amicable two feet away, hands at his hips.

"I'm really mad."

"What else?"

"I'm thinking," you say, looking down at your cold hands, "that you… That you're…" You rub your cheek into your shoulder to hide a fresh tear. "I don't know, Aaron. I'm thinking lots of things."

"Do you want to think about them in the car?" he asks.

Do you want to talk about it?

You don't want to talk about it. You don't like crying in front of him on a good day.

You're pretty sure he'll combust on the spot if he knows you're walking home alone in the dark and distracted.

You get in the car. He has the good sense not to touch your shoulders like he normally would.

You buckle as soon as you've closed the passenger side door. "I'm sorry," you mumble, looking down at your knees.

"Let's forget that, for now." He turns the key but doesn't pull out. "Tell me what's upset you and I'll explain."

"I met Emily Prentiss."

He looks at you out of the corner of his eye.

"She told me that you don't talk about me. Ever. That they didn't even know what I looked like."

You know he's listening but he keeps his eyes on the road, and you chance a look at the side of his face. He doesn't seem mad.

"I don't talk about you often," he says. "But that doesn't mean never… It's true that they didn't know what you look like."

"Until last week, when they saw us together and you pulled me into an alley so they couldn't see me."

"Yes."

Your lower lip trembles. "Do you see why that would upset me?" You're asking genuinely.

"Yeah, honey."

Your head jolts up. He's diverting his gaze from the road to you intermittently, offering up a regretful grimace. The oncoming headlights splash over his work worn face.

"Then why are you doing this? What's so wrong with me that you won't even admit we're together?"

"Nothing is wrong with you. I'm not ashamed of you," he says firmly, volume rising.

"Then why?"

His eyebrows pull together. "You're the best person I've ever met that isn't my son, and I selfishly don't want to share you yet. I also don't want to scare you off."

You pull your sleeves over your hands and turn in your seat, wiping your damp cheeks as he continues.

"My job is hard, and it's dangerous. It has jeopardised the safety and wellbeing of people I love before. So no, I'm not eager to introduce you to my world. The more intertwined with my life that you become, the more danger I put you in, and…" The car slows down again. He turns to look at you. "And I like that I'm the only one who knows you like this.

"I have been hiding you. I have. But it was a," — his tone turns wry — "misguided attempt at keeping you all to myself. Safe, and to myself."

You're finding it difficult to be mad with him.

He's finding it difficult to maintain his poker face. A fat tear rolls down your cheek and you're not sure what it's made of, fatigue or relief or plain hurt, whatever it is he doesn't like it. He pulls over.

You hold still as he pinches the tear off of your chin.

"How long have you felt like this?"

"Like what?" you ask wetly.

"Like this." He opens his hand against your cheek. It encompasses your face; you lean in, hungry for reassurance.

"I don't know."

"This is why you changed your hair. Your clothes. And started making my lunch."

You cover his hand with your own. "I actually really like making your lunches."

You stare at each other until suddenly you're laughing, sniffly, short of breath. Aaron joins in soon after. He always sounds so surprised to be laughing.

"I'm glad," he says when your laughter has abated, pinky and ring finger caressing down the slope of your cheek. "I really like having them. Rossi can't hide how jealous he is."

"They know about the lunches?"

His mindless petting pauses. "They know about the lunches. You're not a secret. I'm… selfish with the details. I'm selfish." Aaron takes back his hand. "I'm sorry."

You take as deep a breath as you can. "Okay."

"Yeah?"

"Mm. Can we go home?"

His eyebrows jump and swiftly smooth again. "Yeah, we can go home." He chucks your chin and gets the car moving again.

You watch him drive.

When you get home, he doesn't mind reassuring you some more. Actually, it's like he needs to do it. You'd love to say that it's overkill and that his low murmurings of praise are unnecessary, but you can't.

"You're lovely," he says seriously across two plates of pasta. Again through the mirror when you're brushing your teeth, and again when you've curled into his chest for the night. You're lovely. Nothing that needs hiding.

You hear him on the phone early in the morning, half asleep.

"Hey, Dave. Yeah. Okay. Uh… No, that's fine." He laughs under his breath. "Yeah, if she was awake I'd ask her to make you one. I think she would… Okay. See you in forty."

You bury your tired face into his pillows and beam.

—

Aaron's office is terrifyingly hectic. You can see already that the bullpen is full to bursting with agents, including but not limited to his special team of profilers. There's the distinct smell of coffee, sharp and burning, and then the underlay of printer ink, new paper.

You can't believe you're here.

You're not brave enough to introduce yourself to his team, and half aren't at their desks anyways. You hover in the doorway until somebody needs to get past you, taking a reluctant step inside.

You shouldn't wait for Aaron. You should be brave. You're a grown up, and you're bringing your grown up partner his very grown up lunch. You'd wanted desperately to do this. The least that you can do is do it by yourself.

You've scrapped most of the fall staples but kept the burgundy pants Aaron likes so much at his request. They feel insanely tight on your thighs, as does your collar. In fact, the room has definitely shrunk since you got here.

Like an idiot, Aaron says your name loud and clear, standing with a hand on the railings at the top of the instep. You hadn't even noticed him emerging from his office.

His voice demands — commands — attention. People turn in their seats, first toward him, and then toward you.

All eyes on me.

You don't run but you don't walk either, weaving through desk chairs and people looking a mix of busy and curious.

"You're being cruel," you say as you approach him, a brown paper bag held close to your abdomen.

"Hi, honey," he says. He wears a knowing smile, all dark and tall and handsome as he starts down the stairs to meet you.

"Don't punish me."

"Is that what you'd call this?" he asks, hand quick to clasp your shoulder, glueing you in place so he can kiss your forehead.

And yes, this is what you'd wanted. The doting boyfriend not just at home but at work, too.

That doesn't mean it isn't really, really embarrassing.

"Is everyone looking at me?" you murmur.

He slips his arm behind your shoulders to walk you up the stairs. "Yes." His voice drops lower. "At one place specifically, I imagine."

"What part is that, Agent?"

He laughs and opens his office door to beckon you inside. "Don't start."

༺༻

my first hotch fic omg. i did a big character study beforehand but i doubt it's entirely in character, hotch is a difficult character to write for! (and im only at season 4). but this was so fun and he's hot so it's worth it. if you enjoyed, please consider reblogging! i promise it makes a difference to me (and also i love seeing what people thought). thank you for reading!! ♥

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tubbytarchia · 8 months

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Doc and Jimmy brainrot part 1 lmao oh no

Basically "What if Doc was in the Life games and Jimmy triggered his parental instincts again". You guys will see my vision. I don't care what it takes. You will see this very specific vision I have god damn it if it's the last thing I do

This is all I have to use as propaganda right now but some ideas and justification below cut!!

Been imagining a lot of Doc/Jimmy interactions both in a traffic and HC context, both of which I'd love to draw for but obvs this for now is 3rd life and I want to draw a little something for each Life series. You'll see!!

The general idea is inspired by a moment from one of the Decked Out streams in which Jimmy calls for Etho and Doc's all "you're triggering my parental instinct... I wanna take you into my hand and take you to a safe place" yep that's it that's the whole inspiration!!

Jimmy deserves love and he does get it to various degrees ofc (Tango, Bad Boys etc) but man... It's so fun to me to imagine Doc in traffic, I think he claimed that he didn't want to be part of the life games because he was afraid of being too competitive (or so I heard), but god it's so fun to imagine big scary mad scientist goat man in that scenario and him probably going at it on his own a lot of the time, but this god forsaken mf Jimmy knows exactly how to unintentionally trigger his parental instincts. I want Doc to subtly take Jimmy under his wing especially as Jimmy keeps dying first. So maybe Jimmy is a bit incompetent and loud as far as he knows, but he sees that he's trying his best and the dad in him can't help but intervene just a tiny bit (and I do mean just a tiny bit) as the games go on. Yes I'm just gonna shove Doc into the Life Games just because I wish this dynamic could have happened and I beg you to put up with it!!

For the above drawing specifically since, sigh, I'm slow and that's all I have to offer rn... it's of course 3rd life, starting off. I imagine Jimmy's wings sprouting during that, because the whole "canary curse" began with the Life Games etc. And this post isn't about FH but just for context as I imagine it, Scott who doesn't like unpredictability convinces him to clip his wings (thanks Bree) because Jimmy's not a proper avian (unlike Grian who has a more "airborne" body, bird feet etc rather than just... wings) and he'd never be able to take flight anyway, those wings would only encumber him. (And then Jimmy keeps clipping them himself until DL Ranchers but cough this post isn't about that). I imagine the avians (for my specific roster, just Grian) have their wings magically clipped anyway just enough to prevent flight and make the games fair. Doc ofc isn't avian himself but he knows that Grian greatly frowns upon the act of willingly clipping wings so when he sees that Jimmy's quickly growing wings have been clipped as well, he can't help but ask, because why would that be necessary while his wings are so small anyway? And Jimmy's response triggers a wee bit of fatherly concern in him but thats it for 3rd life woo

For the rest I just wanna draw more tiny moments of interaction until I get to Secret Life, I guess!! The brainrot is really fucking strong guys

#docm77 #jimmy solidarity #forgive me father for the brainrot is strong and all-consuming #please let me propagate you guys PLEASE #thats it thats the new propaganda tag #tubby art #Doc&Jimmy

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inesbaby21 · 3 months

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Kate just admiring reader and watching her with her puppy dog eyes☹️

Ahhhh I love you nonnie omg!

- I'm just seeing reader on live/recording a grwm to post and kate just sitting on the bed behind her admiring her!

- Or like Game day grwm's- and Kate wants a little makeup nothing toooo crazy, but it's a home game so of course she wants to look purty and stuff! so she begs (not like she had to beg anyway!) for you to do a some light breathable makeup on her. I'm literally gushing this is too cute!

- Post!game Kate who just wants to shower, get the interviews over-with, eat, and wind down with hyperfeminine!reader omgomgomgggg.

- Kate is secretly a girly girl idc, hyf!reader and Kate definitely have matching/monogramed pj's and definitely share a skincare routine!

"Y/N/NNNN it's 9 o'clock- i'm sleepy and we have a busy day tomorrow" Kate says pouting as you talk to viewers/reply to some comments asking about your hair/very obvious matching pj's.

- I definitely can see Kate dating/marrying a Nepo!Baby BIGGGGG time- or not gonna lie a model! Like not someone who's like super out there- but quiet and reserveddd! Someone who brings her back down to earth after a bad day/game you know?

"I do understand where your coming from Syd- and that this loss wasn't something to take to heart, but Y/N came in from Milan to watch me play and we lost" The blonde says genuinely upset- and hurt, don't get me wrong you definitely didn't care if she won or lost, but it hurt Kate knowing that you'd traveled so far to see her- and she still had lost.

-Hyperfeminine!Reader who does NOT need Kate to dumb things down for her, and mad it very clear that she wouldn't be interested in going to watch Kate play if she didn't understand the sport (definitely had to watch one of those basketball explained in girl term tiktok's but we don't judge!)

-Hyperfem!reader Who definitely has scary girlfriend privilege; wearing whatever she wants at ANY time of the day because "Her girlfriend can fight"

-Whipped!Kate who definitely has a designated section in her closet for readers sleepwear, a few pairs of everything- and her emergency jewelry box! Because what's worse than an ugly outfit? No accessories duh 😞

"Kate fucking Martin. There's no way you keep a whole 1/5th of your closet for your girlfriends stuff" Jada Say Wheezing- as she shows the live the difference between the red, blue, white, black, and grey colors of her wardrobe; and then the pink, green, black, and white section that she had unintentionally dubbed as yours.

- HyperFem!Reader who takes the most unhinged, off guard, and borderline clipped pictures of Kate on Facetime/While she sleeps because "Her face is just so sweet when she's sleeping."

-Hyperfeminine!Reader Who take Kate on a Sephora trip to get her a full face of makeup (She's never gonna touch it Unless you do it, but you know just to have for whenever she's ready!)

-Hyperfeminine!Reader who spent most of her childhood/adolescence running from her femininity/was a tomboy- but randomly after hitting 16-19 had a whole life altering change in style, interest, activity.

- Hyperfeminine!Reader who let's Kate know that she doesn't have to be a "gentleman", and CONSTANTLY reminds Kate that she is a girl too, and never makes her feel ashamed for her more "girlish" interests/hobbies.

-Hyperfeminine!Reader who takes Kate to get her nails/feet done every few weeks (they do those cute matchy matchy couple sets) Kate has to get the shorter/gel of course because of basketball but!

A/N currently listening to country music! may have given me to strength to carry on 😣

#lv aces #kate martin x reader #iowa hawkeyes #iowa wbb #kate martin #caitlin clark x reader #sydney colson #theresa plaisance #aja wilson #jada gyamfi

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 7 months

Text

Follow You Anywhere 1

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon, obsession, controlling behavoiour, and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You're online existence threatens to leak into your real life.

Characters: Captain Syverson

Note: I couldn't help myself.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)

Love you all. You are appreciated and your are worthy. Treat yourself with care. 💖

"So... this is what it looks like today?" You aim your camera at the sky outside your window, "sorry, the screen is kinda in the way."

You let out a nervous chuckle and flip the camera to yourself. You make a silly face. You were never overly fond of your image on the screen but the vlogs help. Like a little diary, mostly for yourself. You and your seven followers on Insta.

You bat your lashes and fix the clip in your hair, "oh, I got this free. Yeah, I bought a new hair oil and they threw this in the bag." You let your thoughts run wild from your tongue. You found a journal too daunting, the blank lines leaving you just as empty. This is easier. "Anyway, I shouldn't have spent the money to begin with."

You give another splintered laugh. The one you let out when you're anxious, or scared, or happy, or even mad. You bite your lip and catch yourself in your digitized reflection. You stop and turn your camera to your bedroom.

"Today, I'm gonna clean this mess. Me and you guys together."

You scour the room with the lens. Your laundry is piled on the floor and you have a stack of books you need to put on the shelf. It isn't the worst it's been but it's getting cluttered.

"But first, we'll have breakfast, can't start the stream on an empty stomach," you chirp and nearly drop the phone, "oops, uh..." You fix your grip and check the number in the corner. You have one viewer; on a good day, it's three, most days, it's just you talking to the void.

You go into the kitchen, just down the short hall from your bedroom, opening into your living room. You go to the counter and prop up the phone so the camera is on you again. You tap your fingers and hum.

"What should we have for breakfast?" You ask. You don't feel as crazy talking to yourself even if there's really no one watching. "Oo, French toast. Gotta use up the eggs."

You go to the fridge and pull out the eggs and the milk. You bring them back to the counter, shuffling around for a bowl, a whisk, and the cinnamon.

You mix up your ingredients and dip the bread, one piece at a time. You put on a skillet and fry up the slices, presenting a stack of three to the camera. You smile and dust some icing sugar over the top.

“Probably shouldn't have all this sugar for breakfast,” you shrug at the camera, “alright, quick break…”

You put the stream onto the ‘back soon’ page and take your plate to the small foldout table against the wall. You're not a fan of eating on camera. You finish and rinse up before snatching your phone up again.

You return to your bedroom and put the phone on a middle shelf and flip the stream back to live. Still that one viewer…

“Anyway, I'm back,” you wave at the lens.

You hesitate, looking around as you stand straight and spin. Cleaning, right. Before you can set to work, the phone dings.

A message?

You go back to your phone and squint at the chat bubble floating up.

‘Looked delicious too.’

“It was,” you agree with a grin, “thanks.”

‘Don't mean the toast.’

The next message has you blinking. Your nape burns. They can't mean… you clear your throat and giggle.

“Well, let's get started,” you back up and clap your hands, “you know, I've been so carried away with work. This place is a pigsty.”

You sit on the floor and sort through the clothes. You toss them into the basket as you sit in silence. You stop yourself and glance at the phone.

“How about some tunes?”

You walk on your knees to your bedside and turn on your bluetooth speaker. You go to your phone and find a playlist before pulling the stream back to full screen. As you do, you hear a noise you've never heard before.

‘BourbonBear has tipped.’ Huh? Really?

“Oh, thanks, er, BourbonBear,” you giggle around the name, “how nice. Maybe one day I can afford a proper camera for this, huh?”

You smile and go back to the dirty clothes. You quickly ball up a pair of panties and shove them in the basket. You carry on until they're all untangled.

You move on and tidy your desk, bending underneath to gather up a few loose pens. You make your way around the bedroom, putting away books, fixing the blankets on the bed, and straightening the little figurines on the shelf above the bed.

You grab the stick vacuum and suck up the dirt and proclaim your task done. It took a lot longer than you thought. It's after eleven. The one viewer is still there.

“Whew, okay, I'm gonna get myself washed up and go to the park. Maybe I'll post that later,” you give a thumbs up next to your head as you talk to the phone, “thank you.”

You end the stream and let out a sigh. Your videos aren't much and you doubt they're very interesting but it's like venting for you. Almost like having an invisible friend. You think you will take some pictures of the flowers to share.

🧸

You take your usual path through the park. The walks help you unwind your worries. You try to come after work at least a couple days during the week and both days on the weekend. You find the mindlessness of the routine to be calming.

The deeper you get into the wooded length of the path, you slow to admire the birds in the branches and the critters crawling in the brush. You take out your phone and snap a few photos of a blue jay before it wings away shyly. You smile and flip the cam, smiling as you take a goofy selfie. You can add that to your post.

The path winds ahead and you follow it in the din, listening to the river just down the incline to your left and the tweeting from the sky. You lift your face and inhale the woodsy scent. The sudden crack of a twig startles you and you spin to face the noise. There's no one there. Sometimes you forget other people are free to just walk on through.

You chuckle at yourself and continue on. The path leads out to a suburban street where you like to look at the houses. They're much more spacious and pretty than your grimy brick apartment building.

You come out from the shade of the trees and wander along the avenue. There's a mailbox painted to look like the house it stands before and a little nook for second hand children's books to be borrowed through the neighbourhood. Sometimes you picture yourself living in one of those houses though you don't think it could ever truly be.

As you crane your head, you sense a shadow in your peripheral. You're walking a bit slow. You sidle to the side to get out of the way of the other pedestrian. When no one passes, you look back. No one.

You must be imagining things. You shrug and plod along. You're already thinking of what kind of tea you'll have when you get in.

🧸

You sit down with your mug of ginger citrus tea and set to editing your post. You add a light filter to the photos as you shuffle through them on your laptop. The process is slow as the computer is nearly five years old now and chuffing on its 4GB drive. You get to the selfie you snapped, a stop.

You lean in to get a better glimpse of the background. It's fuzzy but there's a figure just over your shoulder. How could that be? You looked and there was no one there. That's so strange.

You stare as a chill courses through you. You're thankful you hadn't put your earphones in. You wouldn't have heard whoever it was and they may have even snuck up on you. Or maybe it's just a trick of the light.

You hit ‘post’ and try to shake off the foreboding. It's nothing. You're being silly. Besides, you're home and safe now. Next time, you'll be more alert.

A message pops up. You stare at the dot over the chat bubble. You tap with your thumb and bring up the DMs.

'Stream tonight?' BourbonBear asks.

You tilt your head. You already did some today. You're tired and want to lie down and enjoy your time off. You type back 'sorry, not tonight. tomorrow <3' and another notification vibrates. A comment on your latest post.

'Pretty sweater', also from BourbonBear. You heart their comment and leave a thanks below.

You flip back to the selfie. You can't really see your sweater in the picture, just the scalloped knitting of the collar. Well, you suppose it does look cute. You put your phone down and leave it on your desk. That's enough Insta for today.

🧸

You time your shopping trip for the least busy hour. It's early and the store is almost empty except for employees stacking bread on shelves or wandering listlessly around the deli. You have your phone in the basket of the cart, aimed at you as you roll it along slowly and check your list.

The stream is just as empty. It's only just started but you don't expect too many people to be up at this hour. You stop and grab a loaf of sourdough, checking the date before showing it to the lens and putting it in the cart. You smile and announce the next item.

"Strawberries... you know I was thinking I might get raspberries instead," you say, catching the eye of one of the yawning employees. You must seem like a weirdo. It's why you typically don't film in public.

As you roll around to the fruit, you notice the count change. One viewer. You choose a basket of raspberries and show those. You see a message float up; morning.

You smile and return the greeting softly and place the berries down carefully beside your phone. You need yogurt to go with the berries.

You work down the list, making some substitutes as you tick off each item. You linger in the ice cream section a bit too long and talk yourself out of a gallon of rocky road. You lean on the handle of the cart and smile down at the lens.

"Going to check out," you say, "see you all later."

All? There's still just the one. You end the stream and take your phone out of the basket.

You wheel around to checkout and line up at the only open till. You put your items up as you greet the cashier with a smile. She seems tired as she gives a dull response.

As you put the yogurt on the belt, you sense someone join the queue behind you. You glance over as a large man stands only feet away. He's tall and burly and staring at you. Maybe he heard you talking to your audience, or he would think, yourself. You continue to unload your groceries.

"Never tried those," he comments as you take out a box of strawberry Pocky.

You pause and hold them up, chuckling nervously, as you do.

"Pretty good," you answer, "I eat way too many."

You notice the man doesn't have a basket or a cart. That realisation needles under your skin. Maybe he's just getting lotto or smokes?

"You like sweet stuff."

"Too much," you squeak even though it doesn't sound like a question.

He just stares, not saying a word. You swallow tightly and pull the last few items out of the cart and get behind it to wheel it through the lane. As you do, he looms closely, adding to the sweat gathering on your lower back.

You roll along and wait for the cashier to ring through the rest of your things. She bags them up neatly in two large paper bags. You pay with your card and thank her as you lift the first into your cart. The man behind you moves forward and grabs the second, startling you.

"Got it," he says as he places it with the other, squeezing by you, crowding you.

"Oh, excuse me, sir," you stammer, "oh," you lean on the cart to roll it to the end of the lane as you make space between you and the stranger. "Thanks, er, uh... thanks."

You turn and grab the handle, jittering. He's really weirding you out. Especially as you realise he's walked right by the cashier. He's following you.

"I can help get ‘em in your car," he offers in a drawl.

"Oh, that's alright, I... bus," you cringe as you realise you've said too much.

"I could drive you. I have a truck."

"No thank you," you walk faster, the cart rattling with your pace.

"Why not?"

"I don't know you, erm, sorry--"

"You don't?" He catches up and shoves his phone in your face, your Insta profile glaring back at you, "I paid for the milk, maybe the berries..."

"What?" You stop, just by the door and turn to him. "I don't--"

"You haven't eaten, have you? I'll take you for French toast. That's your favourite."

"Um," you blink at him as your eyes tinge, "I don't..."

"You got me through a hard campaign, just wanna say thank you," he adjusts his cap and you notice the pin on it. He's a veteran. Oh, 'campaign'.

“Just got back home," he shifts on his feet, a meek gesture for such a large man, "and... your videos helped me remember it. Helped me hold onto it in the sh-- in the stuff."

"I... wow, okay, that's... I'm glad I could do that."

"I really don't mind giving you a ride. Lots of weirdos on the bus," he insists.

"That's nice but--"

"Please," he softens his tone, "been a while since I sat down and had breakfast without worrying about the sky falling."

You shudder and grip the cart tight. You don't know how to say no. You didn't think about who was watching. You always just assumed they were bots. Then you think of the chaching noise and the amount flashing on the screen.

"BourbonBear?" You ask.

"Yeah," he cracks a crooked smile and smooths his hand over his thick beard. "Everyone calls me Syv.”

#dark!captain syverson #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #series #follow you anywhere #sandcastle #captain syverson #dark captain syverson #captain syverson x reader

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charaznablescanontoyota · 3 months

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"marn i missed sgdq 2024 what should i watch"

hi i decided i'm doing another one of these. it's been a minute. this past week was summer games done quick, an annual speedrunning marathon raising money for doctors without borders and also a great way to get into watching speedrunning. a lot of their content is tailored towards being both clearly explained and fun to watch for an audience outside the speedrun community, so you can jump in with basically no knowledge besides “this person is gonna play a game really fast”.

gdq has the full week's worth of vods up as a playlist on their channel, but here are some runs that i personally think you should check out:

ken griffy jr presents mlb by peanut butter the dog: look it's a dog playing baseball. i don't know what else to tell you.

the entire silly block: speedrunners get up way too early in the morning/late at night to play games that feel like a fever dream. some of the commentators are going on 24 hours of no sleep. it's brilliant. my personal highlights of what i've seen so far are stuart little 2, mad panic coaster, city bus simulator race, and the golf it wrong hole only race that the players dressed up as golfers for

alan wake 2 alan%: alan wake clips through walls and generally has a bad time while a bunch of gamers call him a sopping wet catboy. the runner for this one is really charismatic and it's very funny to see staff rushing to open up the pit as soon as we sing starts (yes they do the dance of course they do the dance). i just love joyful runs of horror games man

super mario 64 blindfolded randomizer: what if you played mario 64 blindfolded and also the stars were in completely random locations. and also you had to do it very very fast.

kingdom hearts 2 critical any%: every kh2 speedrun i've ever seen is a work of art and this one is no different. some of the boss fights go down so fast you will literally miss them if you look away for a minute. and also two of my favorite runners are on couch commentary!

balatro showcase: genuinely made me rethink how i'm playing some of the balatro decks. also great commentary and just fun all around despite (or perhaps partially because of) the absolute struggle session going on with plasma deck in the beginning

super mario world kaizo relay: kaizo is a shorthand term for a game hacked to its absolute limits of difficulty that often requires strict precision of movement and can punish the player for thinking they're smarter than it. in this segment, two teams of 4 very very good mario runners race to complete 8 kaizo levels they've never seen before in their lives

mario maker 2 troll level race: i always like the mario maker races for the same reason i like the kaizo relays. i love watching two speedrunners thrown blindly into the shit have to make up strategies on the fly via trial and error (and error, and error, and error, and...)

kirby air ride race: two high level kirby air ride speedrunners race for an actual physical title belt. the trash talk game happening here is of the insane variety that only two very skilled people who truly respect each others' talents at their game of choice can provide

kaizo mario galaxy: what if mario galaxy hated you even more than usual and would stop at nothing to kill you. also most of the commentators are only familiar with the vanilla game and their reactions to the added-in bullshit are hysterical

tony hawk pro skater 1, 2, 3, and 4: i fell asleep watching this and woke up in a cold sweat to the sound of a bunch of people singing superman by goldfinger. good run

super mario rpg remake: this was the finale block and it's just great to see a bunch of people who really really love the original mario rpg get to hang out and talk about how good it is and also watch a world record level player absolutely stunt on the game

halo 3 four-player co-op legendary: dudes rock

#sgdq #speedrunning

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oneforthemunny · 3 days

Note

🧸🍯🎸 this is mine

for your blurb, rockstar!eddie, fluff, lore/flashback. set during the sneaking around phase, like a month before the engagement for timeline purposes.

"You're going back to the hotel room?" Jeff gawked, mouth nearly dropping at the words he was sure he was hallucinating.

"Yeah," Eddie flicked the lighter, bringing it to his usual post show joint. "Not really feelin' it."

"Not- Ed, we're in Amsterdam." Jeff scoffed.

"And?"

"You fuckin' love Amsterdam." Jeff blinked in awe, partial confusion.

"Yeah, I used to. Kinda boring now. Seen it, done it, need somethin' more exciting than hookers and weed." Eddie shrugged as nonchalantly as he could, his hands twitching with irritation, anxious to get into the car and back to the hotel.

"Lemme know if it's somethin' good, though. Maybe I'll stop by later." Ducking into the black car, Eddie nodded at the rest of his bandmates, shutting the door quickly.

His knee bounced the entire car ride, all seven minutes of it, ringed fingers tapping on the edge of his torn jeans. The car had barely slowed to a stop before Eddie was out, throwing a wad of Euros his tour manager had given him towards the driver, practically sprinting towards the private elevator entrance.

"Hey, uh, you don't happen to know what time it is in Los Angeles right now, do you?" Eddie turned towards the hotel manager accompanying him on the ride to the penthouse.

"No, sir, but I can get the front desk to call and-"

"-That's alright. Thank you." Eddie nodded, stepping towards the door before it opened, sliding through the opening gap.

"Looks great!" He turned, giving a half grin and a thumbs up, jamming the key into the lock.

"Uh, if you need anything, Mr. Munson-"

"-I won't even hesitate to let you know. I promise." Eddie cut off the nervous hotel manager, too familiar with the schtick- too many hotel rooms, all saying the same thing. Normally, he'd be less pushy and in a rush, on his best behavior with the staff because- "Fuck it, they're just doing their job. Why would I be an asshole about it?"

But tonight, he had bigger plans. He'd timed the closing number just right, no off topic rants or mid song chaos like usual- his tour manager should be thankful. No, he'd timed it all perfectly, striding over to the phone, dialing out for an international number.

The phone rang once, twice- Eddie's leg hadn't stopped bouncing until,

"I thought you said you'd call me at four." The familiar playful purr in your tone had his heart skipping, a nearly boyish grin spreading across his face. "It's almost five, here."

"I'm sorry, baby. Had to wrap a few things up at the venue. Didn't plan on it being late." Eddie cradled the phone to his ear, leaning back on the pristine bed. "What are you up to?"

"Hm, about to go out to dinner with a few friends." You sighed, nearly bored, like your heart wasn't fluttering the same way his was.

"Friends? Any I should be worried about?" Eddie's voice dropped, a low gravel in his tone that made heat rush through your veins.

"I think I should be asking you that, rockstar." You teased back. "You're the one in Amsterdam, and who called me late. Too busy with the hookers?"

"Psh, you caught me." Eddie snorted sarcastically. "Got one here with me right now if you wanna talk to her."

"You better not." Your tone clipped, teetering away from playful and towards possessive. "I'd hate to have to catch a flight down there."

"Well, in that case..." Eddie teased, rolling over on the bed, the phone chord stretching with him.

"Eddie,"

"'M just messin' with you. No hookers here. Just me." Eddie muttered, the silence of the room falling around him. "Wouldn't be mad if you did catch a flight, though. I've missed you, baby."

Your cheeks pricked with excited heat, swaying with the phone pressed to your ear. "Yeah?"

"Yeah."

"I've missed you too." You whispered, like it was a secret. Maybe it was, to everyone else. "What are you doing tonight?"

"Smokin'." Eddie hummed, patting his bedside table, looking for the pre-rolled joints he'd requested. "Sleepin'."

"That doesn't sound like much fun." Eddie could practically hear your pout through the phone.

"Eh, it's not bad. A little lonely though." Eddie sighed. "Wish I had someone here with me to keep me company."

"You better be talking about me, Munson." You clipped.

Eddie grinned, a huff of laughter floating though the other end. "You know I'm talking about you. Everyone else is boring t'me now, baby. You ruined them, ruined me."

You bit back a giggle, lips curing in a grin. "Where's your next stop?"

"Uh, Berlin." Eddie muttered. "Leave tomorrow."

"Maybe... Maybe I'll stop in and see you." Your heart skipped when you suggested it. "Maybe we can go back to that cafe."

"You're too good to me." Eddie grinned, lazy and silly. "I'll pick you up at the airport."

"No, just send a car-"

"-I'll pick you up." Eddie insisted. "Don't worry, baby, I'll keep it hush-hush. Very low profile." He could practically hear your smile. "I don't wanna keep you from your friends tonight, so I'll get off the-"

"-You're not." You shook your head. "But I should probably go before Farrah kills me... and I need to call Jaques and let him know I'll need the plane tomorrow."

"I can't wait to see you." Eddie grinned into the receiver.

"You too." You squeaked, a giggly blush practically spilling through the phone. "I'll call you with the times."

"Alright, sweetheart. Have fun tonight. I'll see you soon." Eddie paused, his tongue running over his bottom lip. "Love you, baby."

"I love you." You sighed sweetly. "Don't party too hard. I'll see you tomorrow."

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into-the-grey · 29 days

Text

~Cheerleader~

Noah Sebastian x F!Reader

So I got the idea for this one after seeing the clip of Noah singing Cheerleader on a stream. I couldn't resist the idea, I have no idea if it's been done, but here we are.

Warnings: Smut, P in V (PLS wrap it up), Oral (both kinds), handjob, fingering, a couple lil spanks, some dirty talk, some embarrassment, kitchen sex, costumes, chores, Fall Guys, and amazon two hour delivery.

WC: 4.9k

Fic Masterlist

Taglist: @anything-more-than-human @blend-in-with-the-madness

Noah had been streaming for about an hour, and clearly he was in a good mood. Despite his cries of anguish and frustration, he was having a good time playing Fall Guys. The game was a pain in the ass, and a lot more difficult than people gave it credit for, but it was an easy game to stream and it was fun.

While Noah prattled away to his chat audience, Reed made herself busy around the house. She had been doing chores for most of the morning, finally getting through their seemingly never-ending laundry pile. Noah didn't know it, but Reed had his stream playing on her phone while she listened through her earbuds. His good mood was infectious, and it was great white noise while she cleaned the house.

Reed also enjoyed the music he played while he gamed. Noah had an eclectic taste in music, something Reed had always loved about him. His playlist today matched his upbeat demeanour, making her smile as he hummed along to the tunes.

As she folded the last of his pants, Reed picked up the now full basket of washing, heading back upstairs to deliver the clothes. Noah had a smile in his voice as he spoke, chuckling about something someone had said in the chat.

As Reed walked up the stairs, Noah began to sing along to his music. His sweet voice echoed down the hallway, just audible through her earbuds as she got closer to the room.

She paused, turning down the volume on her phone and standing outside. She giggled to herself while she watched him through the crack in his door. Only just able to see past his green-screen, she saw Noah dancing in his seat, bopping along to the chipper song while he sang.

'Oh, I think that I found myself a cheerleader, she is always right there when I need her...'

Reed smirked, quietly entering the room and placing the basket on the bed. She was hidden behind his green-screen, and Noah hadn't noticed her. He was too busy telling the chat how he hadn't been paying attention to the game.

Reed picked up a pair of rolled socks from the top of the basket, mischievously tossing them over the green screen panel and watching them fall on Noah's shoulder, rolling into his lap.

'Hey!' He called out, turning in his chair. He peered around the panel, seeing Reed standing with a cheeky smile.

'What?' She asked sweetly.

'Don't be throwing shit at me, I'm trying to win here!' He told her with a laugh.

'Oh, I'm sorry, should I crack out the Pom Pom's and a miniskirt? Maybe do the splits?' She shot back with a matching smile.

Noah's eyes widened, his hand covering his microphone, the game quickly forgotten. His fingers wrapped around the top of it like it was a toy, forgetting about the mute button while he tried to muffle the sounds of his curiosity.

'You have a cheerleader outfit?' He asked, looking over his shoulder at her.

'I have Amazon prime and free two hour delivery,' Reed said with a shrug. Noah knew the glint in her eye meant trouble, but it was trouble that he absolutely wanted to get into.

'Do it, I dare you.'

'Cute that you think I won't,' Reed laughed. 'But how about we make this interesting?'

'Oh no...'

Reed sauntered over, bending to meet his eye while he kept his hand over the microphone, his other hand hovering in front of his face, his fingers closed around nothing. Neither of them cared that the camera could see this exchange. If anything, Reed wanted the viewers to see, knowing they would keep bringing it up and driving him nuts throughout the stream.

Lowering her voice, Reed spoke in a hushed tone, practically purring. 'I'll make you a deal, if you win a game of Fall Guys, I'll wear a cheerleader outfit for the rest of the day. I'll even order one right now, just so it's ready if you win.'

Noah stared into her eyes, unable to find a hint of a bluff. His mouth opened and closed a few times, dumbstruck.

'Think you can do it?' She said, smirking, her face nearing his.

'I think this is about to be the longest stream of my life...' he breathed, 'I'm not quitting til I win. Go and order the outfit.'

'Good luck,' Reed said, leaving him with a quick peck on the lips.

As she left the room, she pulled her phone from her pocket, turning up the volume on his stream. With the delay, she caught the muffled sounds of Noah telling her to order the outfit. The chat was in a fit, trying to decipher the conversation.

Reed watched as her own face disappeared from the screen, grinning as Noah's cheeks flushed red.

'Uhm, okay, new plan, this stream ends when I win. Settle in y'all, we might be here a while.'

Laughing softly to herself, Reed quickly opened Amazon, rush-ordering a skimpy cheerleader costume. She made her way back down to the lounge, continuing with her pottering while she waited for the delivery and listening to Noah's renewed need for victory.

***

The costume arrived early, turning up an hour after Reed ordered it. As soon as she opened the small box, she sent a picture of the costume in its packaging to Noah, adding a silly cheer chant for good measure.

'Let's go No-ah, Let's go! x'

Switching to twitch, she perched herself on the end of the kitchen bench, watching him as he picked up his phone.

His eyes skimmed over the message, a smile blooming on his lips as he chuckled.

'I'm getting messages from my cheerleader,' he told the chat. 'I think she's watching the stream.'

Grinning, Reed switched apps, sending him another text message.

'I can motivate you in other ways too...'

Skimming through her photo album, she found a picture she had been saving for this exact kind of moment. A picture she had snapped after a shower, only her arm covering her top half, her bottom half obscured by steam.

Sending it to Noah, she swiped back to twitch and waited. She heard his phone buzz on the desk, and his eyes flitted to the screen. Quickly, he opened the message. His eyes practically bulged out of his head as he rushed to lock the phone and cleared his throat.

'Alright chat, after this round we're gonna take a quick break, I need a refill,' he said, holding up his glass and trying to regain his composure. He glared down the barrel of the camera, and Reed knew that look was meant for her.

Giggling softly to herself, she grabbed the costume and hopped off the bench, strolling down to his room. She quietly entered, hiding behind the green screen again as she made her way onto the bed. Silently, she took her earbuds out, putting them into their case. She placed the case and the costume in the laundry basket, moving the basket to the floor before crawling onto the bed and laying on her stomach, watching him play.

It didn't take long for the round to be over. Maybe ten minutes. As his little bean character returned to the matchmaking lobby, Noah told his viewers that he would be back. He muted his microphone and switched the display to a waiting screen before he turned in his chair, jumping as he spotted Reed smiling at him from the bed.

'Are you trying to kill me?' He asked, gesturing to his phone with a bewildered smile.

'I might be,' she said, her voice honey-sweet as she batted her eyelashes at him. Reed sat up, stepping over the laundry basket and standing in front of him. 'What can I say? It's fun to watch you squirm...'

Noah stood, taking his headphones off and leaving them on the chair before grabbing Reed's hips.

'You are going to drive me insane, woman.'

'That's the goal,' she told him, grinning as one hand slipped between them and cautiously caressed the front of his sweatpants. She could feel him stiffening in her hand, smirking as he groaned at her touch.

'Baby... that's not fair...' he breathed, nosing into her hair. The sweet floral scent of her perfume filled his senses, making him melt into her.

'Who said anything about fair, lover?'

'God, I hate you,' Noah groaned, running his hands up her sides, her shirt lifting with his fingers, and rolling his hips to grind himself against her palm.

'Do you?' She murmured. Her teasing tone was heaven, and he wanted more.

'No, not in the slightest,' he sighed, nipping at her neck.

'Good, because otherwise I'd have to take my costume and find some other poor twitch streamer to harass.'

'Don't you dare,' he snarled, his hands tightening on her waist, pulling her tightly to his chest. His lips trailed lightly over her skin, leaving soft kisses as he made his way from her neck to her lips.

'I love you too, baby,' Reed chuckled as he captured her lips with his.

One of his hands shifted, raising to caress her breast under her shirt, rolling her nipple between his thumb and forefinger as he chased her tongue. Reed slipped her hand into his boxers, wrapping her fingers around his length and stroking him.

'Fuck, Reed, I'm still streaming,' he breathed against her lips.

'They can't see us.'

'I can't take too long,'

'So don't.'

A soft moan left his throat as Reed quickened her strokes, precum leaking down his shaft and smearing under her fingers. She kissed him as he grunted, his hips rutting into her hand as she found the perfect rhythm to undo him.

'Good boy,' she whispered, 'are you close, baby? Are you gonna come for me?'

A sinful gasp fell from his lips, his fingers tightening on her arms as he leaned into her. His teeth grazed the skin of her neck as he mumbled obscenities, his climax twisting in his gut.

'Fuck,' he whispered, his hot breath tickling her neck as she smirked, feeling him twitching under her fingers.

'I know what you need,' she said, her teasing tone driving him further to the edge. Reed sank to her knees, Noah's hands on her shoulders as he steadied himself. Her lips locked around his tip, her tongue tracing the bottom of his length as she hollowed her cheeks and took him into her mouth.

'Oh god, baby, right there,' Noah groaned, bucking his hips. Reed hummed a soft laugh, the vibrations sending shockwaves through his body.

His fingers tightened on her shoulders, his head tipped back and his eyes screwed shut. Finally, his release hit him, emptying himself down her throat. Reed let his cock slip from her lips, swallowing quickly.

'Good?' She asked, batting her eyelashes.

'Very good,' Noah confirmed, his cheeks red as he breathed heavily. 'But now I really need that drink.'

Reed chuckled, rising to her feet in front of him. 'You clean yourself up, I'll handle the drink. You still have a game to win.'

'Oh, you suck,' Noah said teasingly.

Wiping her thumb over her bottom lip, Reed laughed. 'You liked it, though.'

With a smirk, he kissed her quickly before adjusting his pants.

'I swear, I'll win this game if it's the last thing I do,' he told her. 'You suck, but I love you.'

'Love you too, baby.'

***

Hours passed, the sun dipped low in the sky, and Noah was losing his mind. He had come so close to winning so many times. Every time, he fell just short.

Reed had even offered to call off the challenge, but he was determined. Boys and their games...

Reed continued to keep herself busy until she had nothing left to do but cook dinner. With the way the game was going, she figured Noah wasn't leaving the bedroom anytime soon, so she cooked and brought dinner up to him.

The pair sat and ate, talking to the chat. She saw a few people speculating about Noah's drive to win. Normally, he'd quit after a few failed rounds, but he'd been at this for six hours now.

While Noah picked at his stir-fry, he hummed the tune of cheerleader again. Reed couldn't help but giggle, eyeing the laundry basket.

'Baby, you know you can try again another day, right?'

'Nope. You issued a challenge, and I don't lose.'

'I dunno, seems like you've been losing all day...'

Noah raised his eyebrows, his mouth dropping open as he stared at her. 'You did not just say that to me.'

'And what if I did?'

'Alright! You do it then!' He cried, a laugh in his voice as he offered her the controller.

The chat sped up, watching the exchange.

'If they want me to, I will. It's your stream,' she reminded him with a shrug, pushing a piece of chicken around in her bowl.

As the chat caught up with their conversation, floods of 'yes!' And 'do it!' Filled the stream. Chuckling nervously, Reed speared the chicken, eating it quickly and putting the bowl on Noah's desk.

'Alright, let's go.'

Noah shot her a smug look as she took the controller. Settling into a comfortable position, Reed watched the screen.

She passed the first two rounds with ease, the third round was a little more difficult, and the fourth round she was the last person to qualify.

'You're shitting me,' Noah said, watching in disbelief as she navigated Fall Mountain.

'Baby, I was hyper fixated on this game, remember? I know the strategies,' Reed told him, beaming as she made her way through the obstacles.

As she neared the top, the crown began to drift down, and another bean threw themselves at it.

'NO!' Noah yelled, panicking for Reed.

'Shit! No- wait he missed!' She cried, running for the crown.

The little guy on screen launched for the crown, and suddenly everything froze. Fanfare erupted as the golden victory banner appeared on screen.

'Ha! That doesn't count as you winning, by the way,' Reed laughed, handing the controller back to Noah as the chat filled with laughter and screams of triumph.

'God damn it,' he groaned, 'still, you did good, baby.'

'Exactly, now go forth and do as I did,' she teased.

Feigning offence, Noah raised his middle finger, flipping her off playfully. 'Now I'm super determined.'

'And I'm gonna sit here and watch,' she told him, returning his gesture. 'Maybe you just need your cheerleader.'

'Maybe...'

***

The end was in sight. The timer ticked down, and Noah's little guy had the tail. Only seconds stood between him and victory, but five other people were chasing him and they were closing in.

'Come on, motherfucker, run!' Noah growled, trying his hardest to outrun the horde of colourful beans.

'Ten seconds,' Reed said, leaning forward in her seat. She was just as invested now, wanting to see Noah win.

As he tried to leap from the centre ring onto a platform, he missed the jump, falling down.

'No! No, shit!' Noah yelled, spamming his buttons to get back up. The crowd closed in on him, and he struggled against them. There was no way he was getting out of this one...

'No! Someone's got my tail!' He cried as the 'tail lost' message popped up. The horde was stuck, all piled on top of each other. He began to spam the grab button, hoping for the best.

'Three... two... one...' Reed counted down.

'Fuck!'

As he was about to slam the controller down, the golden banner appeared on the screen.

'What!?' They cried in unison.

Noah's little guy appeared on a podium, a crown dropping onto his head.

'I finally won! I'm free!' He shouted, laughing as he leaned back in his chair.

'You did it!' Reed grinned.

Noah began to bid goodbye to his chat, ending the stream and turning off the Xbox.

'I need to get out of this chair, holy shit,' he told his viewers. 'And I think that my cheerleader might kill me if I don't at least come and help with the dishes.'

'You would be correct, sir.'

Reed waved goodbye to the chat as Noah ended the stream. The moment they were no longer being watched, Noah swung his chair to face her.

'You owe me an evening in a costume, and I think you owe me tomorrow in the costume as well,' he told her.

'Tonight, yes, tomorrow, we'll talk.'

Standing and stretching, Noah groaned.

'You change, I'll take this downstairs,' he said, picking up the bowls from their dinner.

'God, you're so bossy,' Reed teased, standing up and kissing him quickly. Noah grinned as he left the room, leaving her to change.

The costume was tight, and very short. The top was more of a crop top than an actual tank, but it was only a Halloween costume; she was lucky it was more than a bikini top. The skirt lacked any built in shorts, and the fabric felt lighter than it should have. But, the ensemble was surprisingly comfortable, and definitely sexy.

Trotting downstairs, she debated jumping into the kitchen with a cheesy cheer chant, but none sprang to mind.

Instead, she waltzed in, the pleats of the skirt swishing with her hips, and stood in front of him.

'One cheerleading outfit,' she announced, 'you earned it, fair and square.'

Noah grinned, looking her over. The fabric barely covered her ass, and the top had a much lower cut than a real cheer costume, showing a considerable amount of cleavage.

He stepped closer to her, his large hands tracing over her bare midriff.

'Can you wear this every time I win on stream?' He asked, 'after I'm offline, of course.'

'What, you don't want people to see your personal cheerleader?'

'Oh god no, this is for my eyes only,' he told her, a hint of possessiveness in his tone.

Reed chuckled, rolling up onto her toes and pressing a kiss to his lips before rolling her eyes at him. 'If you're so sure about it...'

His hand traced down her body, slipping underneath her skirt and gliding up between her thighs.

'You know, I've always thought your eyes were so pretty,' he mused, his fingers grazing over her drenched panties, 'but I think they're prettier when I make them roll back.'

'Noah!' She admonished, taking a step back from him as she chuckled. He knew she loved a game of cat and mouse, but he'd been tortured enough.

'Say it again, baby,' he purred, pulling her back to him and dragging her panties out of the way. He drew a long stripe through her folds, gathering her arousal and using it to glide in circles around her swollen clitoris.

The sigh that followed was heaven to him, and she gripped hard at his biceps, her body melting into his as she whimpered his name.

'You tortured me all day. You can't seriously think I haven't been planning how to get mine?'

His middle and ring finger sunk into her drenched pussy, earning another beautiful gasp from her. He searched inside of her, curling his fingers against the soft, spongy place deep in her core.

'Oh god, Noah,' she gasped, her cheeks turning pink. 'Baby, the windows,' she managed to stammer.

'So the neighbours might get a show,' he shrugged, smirking as she squirmed on her toes. Her muscles clenched around his fingers while she moaned, her sounds filling the kitchen. He nosed into her hair, nipping lightly at her neck and grinning against her skin as her hands splayed out on the benchtop behind her.

'Oh shit.' Her cheeks flushed, her eyes closing and her head falling back, granting him access to her throat, his free hand wrapping around her neck and pinning her in place. Her chest heaved as she breathed deeply, letting her legs spread further.

'Good girl,' he breathed, his voice low in her ear. Reed practically melted at the sound, her hips bucking against his hand as his thumb swirled over her swollen clitoris. 'All this, just for me?'

She nodded, sighing again as his teeth raked over her throat. Inch by inch, Noah kissed his way up her neck, stopping at her lips and taking her lower lip between his teeth. Her groan had him straining against his pants, eager to sink into her. He'd been craving it all day, but he wanted to rev her up first.

Swiftly, his fingers disappeared from her pussy and his hand left her throat. He presented his fingers to her, her slick glistening on them.

'Open,' he told her, locking eyes with her. She did as he asked, opening her mouth and letting her tongue hang out. Noah let her take his fingers into her mouth, sucking the juices from his fingers the same way she had with his cock earlier in the day. Her soft tongue ran under his knuckles, sending a wave of tingles down Noah's spine.

'Good,' he praised as she gave him his hand back. He stepped closer, reaching down and wrapping his hands around her thighs. In a fluid motion, he lifted her to sit on the bench, crashing his lips against hers.

Agonisingly slowly, he trailed his lips down her body. She whined as he lifted the top of the costume, sucking her pert nipple into his mouth. With his other hand he slid her panties off, tugging them free from under her ass and letting them drop onto the floor.

Reed tangled her fingers into his hair, moaning softly as his tongue explored her skin and desperate for him to reach her pussy. Noah noticed her gentle shoves, looking up and grinning at her.

'Do you want something?' he asked, freeing her nipple.

'Noah-'

'Ask nicely, baby,' he teased, taking her nipple into the crook of his thumb and forefinger, pinching it.

'God,' she gasped, 'come on, baby, you know what I want.'

Noah nodded as he pushed her down on the bench. 'I have no idea what you're talking about,' he said coyly, 'you're going to have to use your words.'

Rolling her eyes, Reed shot a glare at him. Noah raised his eyebrows, staring her down.

'You want to be a brat, huh?' he said, tilting his head and running his right hand down her leg. His hand wrapped around her ankle, lifting it and placing her heel on the edge of the bench, her right leg naturally copying the movement of her left.

'What are you gonna do about it?' she smirked, letting her knees fall open so the skirt danced at the top of her thighs.

Noah huffed a laugh, his arm crossing his body in a flash and snaring her left ankle in his left hand. He lifted her leg quickly, her knee tucking into her chest, and brought his free hand across her ass cheek in a smooth smack. Reed gasped at the sting, her pussy clenching against nothing.

'You want to try again? Use your words, sweetheart.'

'Fucking hell,' she gasped, earning another smack across her reddening ass cheek. Noah smirked at her, rubbing his hand over the inflamed skin.

'Not those ones, they're for later.'

Reed bit her lip as her caressed her, the sting easing under his cool touch. 'Please, baby, taste me.'

'Good job,' he chuckled, easing her leg down and kissing the inside of her thigh. 'Was that so hard?'

'No.'

Noah could hear the giggle in her voice, smiling as he kissed his way under the skirt and parted her folds with his tongue. The moment he touched his toungue to her swollen nib, her back arched.

'You really wanted it, didn't you?'

'Mhmm,' she hummed, her fingers twisting into his hair again as he returned to his favourite dessert. Writing the filthiest poems with his tongue, he listened to her sounds, feeling her body convulsing beneath him. Every now and then she would breathe his name, or let out a whine.

He slid his fingers back into her waiting pussy, grinning aginst her as she squeaked and groaned. He glanced up, seeing her teeth clamped down on her lower lip.

'You don't need to hold it back, baby, I'm only just getting started,' he told her. 'Go on, let it come...'

Returning his tongue to her clit, her legs clamped over his ears. With his free hand, he gripped her thigh, holding it to his head and devouring her. Her moans were muffled, but after a moment her orgasm began to drip down his fingers while she squirmed against him.

After a moment, she tugged at his hair, begging for a moment to breathe. He smirked as he stood, slipping his fingers out of her and tasting her orgasm.

'You good, baby?' he asked, leaning over her and caging her against the bench, his face hovering above hers. She nodded, her chest heaving.

'So good,' she panted. 'So, so good.'

'Good,' he laughed, kissing her gently. 'Because I meant it, I'm not done.'

She grinned up at him, running her fingers across his cheek lazily. 'I'm so screwed, aren't I?' she asked.

Noah laughed, taking her hand from his cheek and kissing her palm.

'Abso-fucking-lutely.'

'Oh shit.'

It took him no time at all to free his cock and position it against her waiting entrance. He pushed it lightly, teasing her as the tip begged to slide in, wet with precum.

'Deep breath, baby girl,' he said, tilting his head and smirking down at her.

Reed complied, her lungs filling, and as she breathed out, Noah began to sink into her. Their sighs filled the room as he inched his way in, feeling her stretching to let him in.

'Oh god,' she moaned, her fingers finding the edge of the bench and clamping down around it.

'God you feel so good,' he said, his eyes closing for a moment and savouring the sensation of her around him. 'Sit up,' he commanded. Reed reached for him, easing herself up and wrapping an arm around the back of his neck to steady herself.

'Fucking hell, Noah.'

'I told you that you'd need those words later,' he grinned sinfully. Her pussy flexed on his cock as he spoke, reminding him of her proclivity for dirty talk.

Reed grinned, craning her neck to press a kiss to his lips again. Slowly Noah began to roll his hips, drawing himself out and plunging back into her. His hand snaked up her spine, holding her up while his strokes searched for that spongy spot.

'Fuck I love you,' he breathed, raking his teeth over her neck again.

'I love you,' she told him in return, her jaw falling slack while her body revolted against her, the high racing on already.

Noah grunted while he rutted up into her, his own high chasing hers. She had teased him so much that he was left desperate for another released. She knew how to wind him up, and she'd done a phenomenal job of it all day.

'Come for me, baby girl,' he said, grabbing at her jaw and thumbing over her lower lip. 'Come with me, all over me, I wanna hear you.'

Reed groaned, the smouldering in her pussy becoming a blaze at his words, her orgasm filling her body and her eyes rolling back. Her cries grew louder as the high intensified, Noah's determined thrusts only adding to the pleasure that made her head spin.

Her sounds drove him to the edge, falling over it close behind her. His thrusts began to falter, burying deep into her pussy and staying there while thick ropes spilled out of him. He pulled her into a deep kiss while they came down from their highs, his knees shaking while he leaned against her.

'God I love you,' he breathed, resting his forehead against hers.

'How much do you love me?' She chuckled, her eyes flitting away from his face for a moment.

'I just spent all day getting edged and playing an absolutely bullshit god-damn video game to win you, is that enough?' he asked, laughing and thumbing over her flushed cheeks.

'Maybe, but do you love me enough to apologise to the neighbours?' Reed said, looking to the window again.

Noah paused, following her gaze and seeing the next-door neighbours standing on their second floor balcony. The man's eyes were wide, and his wife's jaw hung open.

'Oh shit.' Noah slipped out of Reed swiftly, adjusting himself in his pants and rushing to close the curtains. His face burned red as he turned to face Reed, his back against the wall. 'When I said the neighbours might get a show, I didn't mean it!' he laughed.

Reed crossed her legs, cackling at Noah while her own face turned bright red.

'You owe them a gift basket, and we have to move.'

Noah nodded, a sheepish grin on his face.

'Yup. You start looking for houses, I'll see if there's a "sorry we traumatised you with accidental exhibitionism" gift basket.'

'Deal.'

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