#it just feels my mind with those terrible thoughts again

[lenaswritingandstuff]

Right again ▪ Tom Riddle x f!reader

Requested: No

Pairing: Tom Riddle x f!reader (+ SPOILER x f!reader)

Summary: Tom, who always thought relationships were meaningless, changed his mind when he met y/n. He plans on telling her how he feels, however, it doesn't go as planned, and he finds himself to be right - again.

Word count: 1.1K

Warnings: Fluff; angst; English is not my first language.

A/N: It wasn't supposed to be this long lmao. I will write the same plot with Mattheo, Draco, Lorenzo and Theo in the future - hopefully with a better title lol. PLEASE PLEASE DON'T LET THIS FLOP OR YOU WON'T SEE ME ON HERE AGAIN LOL. Comments and feedback are always appreciated. Sorry for the typos. Hope you enjoy it! xx

Tag list: @helendeath @im-jesus @wolfyychan @blocked-zombieartist

Tom Riddle was in his dorm, one of the only places in Hogwarts where he could be by himself, and where he could be doing the things he enjoyed the most - studying and reading, both in silence. But, despite being currently sitting on his desk - always perfectly arranged -, he was not currently reading a book or studying. Instead, he was doing something he never thought he would do and was feeling something he never thought he would feel: thinking about a girl, and being nervous about a girl. 

Contrary to Mattheo and his friends, Tom has never cared for relationships - he could barely bear being around Mattheo’s friends if serious, meaningful discussions or activities weren’t involved. Sure, he cared for Mattheo, more than he cared to admit, because they were of the same blood. And for Tom, blood was one of the things that mattered the most, alongside loyalty, knowledge and influence. 

And y/n. 

Tom had always thought Mattheo was the only person he could ever care for - after all, they needed to have some sort of loyalty towards each other if they wanted to have a chance to fight their father - but, just like he was surprised to learn he did not want to follow his father in his quest for tyranny, Tom was surprised to find himself caring for y/n. 

Just like he had never cared for friendship, Tom had never cared for love. He did not think it was a weakness as his father did, but he did think it was not as important as people made it out to be. And, also, why care for love when something terrible, something that would likely cost lives was being prepared? 

But then again, y/n challenged that idea. Despite being in the same house and the same year, it took Tom several years to properly notice her. He knew she was one of Mattheo’s close friends outside of his usual group, and that gave them occasions to spend time together. Strangely, Tom had first found her company more tolerable than the others - she seemed to understand his will for silence, deep conversations and his interests, seemed to have the same thirst for knowledge. She was kind as well, having what people called “a heart of gold”, always ready to help anybody in need. She was also warm and funny, two things she shared with Mattheo, and it usually didn’t take people enough to want to be her friend. Tom had considered y/n the closest thing he had to a friend, and he thought he would stay that way until, one day, he saw her and Mattheo sitting closer to each other than usual, and he felt something strange, something he didn’t expect to feel, and something he struggled to understand - jealousy. He didn’t think it was that at first, but it became obvious it indeed was jealousy when he found himself wishing that he was the one sitting next to her, and not Mattheo. 

From that moment, he kept thinking about y/n in ways he had never done before - how beautiful she was, how he loved her smile, how he wanted to hold her hand, to smell her addictive perfume, to be the person who mattered most to her… how he wanted to hold and kiss her. He had considered those thoughts as foolish at first and tried to not have them, but everytime he was with y/n, they came back running, and he sometimes had to restrain himself from sitting closer to her just to smell her perfume when they were in class, or to hold her hand when they were studying in the library. He didn’t have anybody to ask questions to - Mattheo would laugh at him - so, like he always did, Tom gave himself the answer: it was love. At first, he thought it was only temporary and it didn’t even cross his mind to tell her about it, but he was forced to admit that, instead of disappearing, those feelings became stronger with each day passing. The idea displeased him, and he tried to avoid y/n so these feelings would go away, but it was in vain, and only made him miss y/n - and made him love her more. But one day, as he was sitting on his desk busy thinking about her instead of studying, the idea of just telling her how he felt seemed right. Of course, the idea of rejection secretly terrified him, but he would accept simply being her friend. y/n deserved a loyal, sincere friend and that is what Tom was. All she had to do was give him a chance he could be the boyfriend - the word seemed so meaningless compared to what he felt - she deserved, a boyfriend who would be loyal, caring, sincere, and who would put her and her needs and safety first.  

Thus, he got her favorite flowers, and, having thought about what to say to her for hours, decided to go and ask her to have a moment of her time. And now the time had come. He grabbed the bouquet, and, trying to pull himself together, left his dorm. At that hour, y/n should be in the common room. With a bit of luck, she would be alone. Tom headed for the common room, which was nearly empty except for two first years laughing. He started looking for y/n, and his heart, which had started to beat faster with nervosity and hope, almost broke. 

y/n was indeed here, standing in a corner of the room - kissing Mattheo, who had a hand on her waist and the other in her hair. He broke the kiss, looked at her in a way Tom had never seen him and y/n had a smile before Mattheo pressed his lips on hers like he couldn’t help it. 

Tom took a step back, and the only thing that stopped him from dropping the bouquet was the noise he knew it would make. He turned around and quickly yet silently went back to his dorm - where the flowers finally met the ground. His back against the door, he almost wanted to laugh now. How could he have been so foolish? It should have been obvious to him from the start that y/n, warm and kind y/n, would prefere Mattheo, Mattheo would everybody loved or at least fond of, who had no problems making friends and be with people, Mattheo who had never been anything like their father. Mattheo, who people didn’t intimidate or rightfully found cold and strange. 

You’ve won, brother. 

As always, Tom Riddle found he had been right. Love was meaningless, and he should never have cared for it - should have never cared for her - in the first place. 

He was right, but for the first time in his life, he wished he wasn’t.

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[greeniegirl23]

Isn't It.. Lovely? (Chapter 3#)

One month.

You had one month to make the biggest decision you'd ever make in your life. Part of you wondered why you didn't tell Alastor to have a field day with your Father's corpse, until you remembered that the other part of you still loved and cared for him.

He was still your Dad and once upon a time he was a very good Dad. Your parents were practically a power couple when your Mom was alive, after her death, depression fell on him like a bag of bricks. Leading him to find feeling again in glasses of wine and bottles of hard liquor.

Everyday you pondered on this, wondering if something would finally push you over the edge. If you'd snap and take revenge for yourself.

You didn't like having those thoughts. Yes, the idea of liberty made you feel elated but at the cost of the last family member you had? It was conflicting to say the least.

All that worrying came to a halt once Alastor began to solidify his place in your life.

Every night at 9pm sharp, when you were dressed for bed and your despicable abuser was asleep. Alastor used his powers to turn your radio into your own personal hotline. He was ever so happy to hear from you, happiest when he saw nor heard any traces of harm inflicted on you that day.

He soon found out that you were a curious one and a terrible over-sharer. It was obvious you never really had friends before and if you did, they left you behind long ago. You were as innocent and pure as the driven snow. Always asking questions about him, about Hell, and what it was like back when he was on Earth.

You loved when he told you more about his life. It was like he was reading you your own personal bedtime stories. Tales of speakeasies and the depression, parties that lasted from dusk to dawn, and of course, all of the completely justified crimes he committed before his demise.

As payment for his stories, you told him about your own and caught him up on modern day issues. He seemed especially interested in World War I, disappointed that he died a few years shy of when it started. You told him about your health science classes, your school, and he even became a good study buddy to help you out with your tests.

“Alright darling, last question.” He stated, a drum roll playing in the background. “If your patient performs a forward lunge, which plane of the body are they moving in?”

You chewed on the end of your pencil. “..Coronal?”

A bell dinging made you smile. “Correct! Well done darling, but I'd like for you to work on your confidence when you answer. No one wants a doctor that's unsure of what they're doing.”

“Yeah..I just get so unsure sometimes. I think I'm more scared of being wrong than being right.”

He chuckled. “Do not fret my dear! I've been doing these little pop quizzes with you long enough to know you have a sharp mind. Confidence is a tool that will solidify your place in the career you plan to pursue, so don't be afraid to utilize it more.” His voice was so kind and mentoirish. It felt like he was giving you life lessons almost every time he talked.

On one hand that made you embarrassed. Like these were things you should have already known but you didn't, but you decided to give yourself some grace. Life was different for you than everyone else, so obviously there would be some things you didn't experience to gain knowledge from.

You placed your pencil down and sat cross legged in your chair. Not being the type of person who could sit still, nor do things normally. “Is that how you become a radio host? Because you were super confident?”

There was a pause. “Well, it was something that helped. Being a professional at what I do required more than just believing in myself. Most people think it's easy, but it has its challenges. For example, I used to rehearse my script in the mirror to stop myself from unconsciously going ‘umm’ every 10-30 seconds. It also aided in preventing myself from fumbling my words.”

“That sounds like solid advice.” You smiled. “I should start keeping a journal when you're around and call it ‘Life Lessons As Taught By The Radio Demon.’”

A loud cackling broke out over the radio. “Ah, so the girl does have a sense of humor. A good one at that!” He said proudly. “And here I thought you were all doom and gloom.”

“Hey! I'll have you know staying positive at all times can be very exhausting.” You huffed, placing your hands on your hips in a pouty attitude. “It's really hard to smile when it feels like the world is against you...”

There was a stagnant silence in the air as you turned your head to gaze out the window, watching the rain drizzle from the grey sky. It was your favorite weather, even more so because of the friend it allowed you to find.

Alastor pondered over your words before he took a deep breath. “That leads to a question that I've been meaning to ask you for some time now. It's a rather sensitive one so if you'd prefer not to answer, I would understand.”

Giving the plushie your attention, Alastor's tone turned concerned as he asked. “I can’t help but wonder, Darling, where is your mother..?”

Without missing a beat, you replied. “Oh, my Dad murdered her.”

A sharp microphone screech omitted from the radio. It was safe to say he most definitely was not expecting that..

Not because he can't see your degenerate of a guardian doing something of the sort, he was actually more curious as to how someone as sloppy as your Dad could get away with something like that. No. What got him was even though you were saying words that no child should ever say until they're well into adulthood, you smiled. A soft one, filled with unspeakable pain and a lust for something you could not yet gain.

You could feel him hesitating to ask you some more questions on the topic, so you decided that you could quickly give him your life story. “Whenever anyone asks about it, I always tell them that she passed from cancer but, that's not true..”

Alastor’s signal chirped in curiosity, but he made sure to sound sympathetic. “What happened?..”

You chuckled a bitter melody.

“She was born a diabetic and I was around twelve.. Everyday my Mom took her medicine, the diabetes is actually what led her to becoming a doctor in the first place. Every morning my Dad would make her coffee, as a way of telling her he loved her. I snuck a few sips before only to find out she made it black, when she caught me she told me “Mommy can't have sugar…”

When I turned fourteen, they started arguing. A lot. I can remember hearing them sometimes. Mom threatened to leave him because he was starting to grow a gambling issue and she was tired of taking the brunt of most of the bills. He promised to change and that's when everything started to go downhill.. Weeks went by, she just started getting sicker and sicker seemingly out of nowhere. Still had her morning coffee though. I'd make it for her sometimes and she reminded me “Mommy can't have sugar.” Hardly able to do anything for herself, much less take her medicine. Of course he said he'd do it, he promised me he did when he took me to school..He still made her coffee, before he went to work and after she had been made bed bound..I thought it was a lie, that it wasn't true until I realized that she died that morning with a cup of coffee in her hand..”

A sour laugh left your lips, as you recalled that day you came home from school and found her lying there with blood on the pillow, blood that she had been coughing up for almost a month.

“That bastard was poisoning her with fucking sugar… Everyday he was putting a little bit in her morning coffee and not giving her the insulin she needed. She was a Type 1 diabetic and he did all of it for some fuckin insurance money..” You sighed, running a hand through your hair. Before yanking it in frustration and punching your fist through the nearest wall, your face was blank and unmoving for a second not even flinching as you removed your bruised fist from the drywall. “Mama couldn't have sugar..”

Alastor listened as you explained your mother's demise. His distaste for your father grew more and more as he recalled memories of his own childhood. He'd never tell you to your face, but he could see parts of himself in you from his younger years, if lead in the proper manner, you could become quite the promising killer.

He shook his head. Not the best thoughts to be having right now, not while you're on the edge of a mental breakdown.

“I..Would be lying to you if I said I knew what to tell you about such an awful situation..” He stated hesitantly. “But I can say that I am sorry, that you had to deal with something like this so early in life.”

“Don't be sorry, there's nothing to be done about it…She's gone now and I have to get away from him.” You declared, looking at your now bruised hand. “Now you understand why I made that wish. On any day, at any time, for any reason, that man could decide to kill me. To kill his own daughter in cold blood..”

Alastor hummed. “If you know this, then let me help you." He demanded. "I cannot sit idly by forever my dear, these links to your world are only good for short times to prevent other demons from causing other problems. No one understands the severity of this situation more than you. I would love to help you exact revenge on that putrid sack of skin but you must choose before it is too late and I am no longer around..

You sat in silence as Alastor did his best to help you come to a decision. As much as you hated being rushed, you couldn't deny that he was correct. But the decision was hard, harder than you thought it would be considering the fact that you still loved your father and the man he used to be…

All these thoughts ran through your head on a daily basis, everytime they made you wanna curl up and cry. Snatching up the plush doll, you gave it a good squeeze and hid your face in your knees, wishing that your Mom was still around.

The Radio Demon pursed his lips in thought, he wasn't good with others emotions unless he could feed off of the entertainment from it, much less comforting them. There was nothing entertaining about this, about you being sad. He didn't like it for a reason he couldn't explain, perhaps because you were so bubbly in the beginning?

You weren't trying to do anything miraculous, you just wanted to live your life in peace and possibly get justice for your mother. That was something he could understand. He wouldn't mind completely decimating your Dad, truly he wouldn't! It'd be on the house for you, truly you're the most pitiful soul he's come across in a long while.

He supposed he could pull a few quick strings to make you feel better in the moment. To bring back that smile of yours, full of wonder and a desire for life.

As you continued to seek shelter in your knees, you felt a gentle touch caress the top of your head, sharp claws softly scraping your scalp in an attempt to comfort you.

Wait..

WHAT?!

Quickly yet carefully, you snapped your head up to see none other than The Radio Demon crouched down right in front of you. His hand still rested on the crown of the head as you both stared at each other for a moment.

“I'm sorry.. am I dreaming?” You blurted out.

Alastor smiled, laughing in a low tone at your completely gobsmacked expression. “Fortunately for you, the answer is no my dear. As a gentleman, it'd be rude of me not to at least attempt to help a lady in emotional distress.”

You were still dazed and confused about him being here, much less t o u c h i n g you!! “Ida..I-- I didn't know you could-”

“Travel through the radio? It is quite possible but I only do so on rare occasions since it requires a fair bit of my power that cannot be overexerted in one day.”

Standing up to his full height, you realized how tall he was and thanked God that the ceiling was high enough for his antlers not to scrape. Crawling out of your chair, you immediately felt like an ant compared to him, the top of your head barely came to his collarbone.

“Holy crap you're tall." You blurted again. "I mean, I knew that you were tall but, you're really, really tall..”

Smirking with pride, he twirled his cane expertly like the show off you knew and loved. “7”0 exactly my dear, a foot taller than I was when I was a mortal! Though I suppose that was the universes funny way of punishing me for my crimes, I've bumped my forehead on door frames a good 50 times in both life and death!”

As you examined his real life appearance, you couldn't help but laugh. “Yeah well, the heels don't help.” You pointed to his shoes.

He huffed in feigned offense. “They are not heels, darling they are tap dancing shoes and it was quite common for them to have a bit of height back in my day.”

“Okay, Fred Astare.” You snorted as he settled himself on the side of your bed as you marveled at the fact that he was still taller than you even while sitting down. “And here I was preparing to offer you a dance in hopes of lifting your spirits, only for you to insult my tastes in fashion.” He hmphed, crossing his arms and legs while sticking up his pointy nose towards you.

In a daring moment, you sat right next to him crissed crossed, careful not to to touch him while he continued to play offended. “C’mon Al, don't be so huffy. I didn't mean anything by it.”

“ ‘Al’ huh?” He hummed. “Sounds like someone is getting rather familiar.”

“Hey, you call me 'Darling' and 'Dear' so often I think that it's only fair that I call you 'Al' on occasions.”

“I suppose you have a point. Nevertheless, I came here to try and boost your spirits, you seem to be doing better so if you wish to be bratty I can just go back home..” He teased with an evil grin.

“Wait!” You said just a bit too loudly. “Would you like to play a game with me? Ya know, before you go..”

Alastor raised an eyebrow in curiosity as he parted his lips to deny your offer, until you pulled out the big guns and gave him your best puppy girl eyes. A chill went down his spine from your usage of such cheap tactics, remembering his years as a lad and doing the exact same thing when he wanted something desperately from his dear mother.

“Okay! Okay!” He said, placing his hands up in surrender. “I shall subject myself to whatever game this is for one round, as long as you stop making that revolting expression..”

He watched as you smiled with pure enthusiasm. Such a beautiful smile you had, it made him irritated that you didn't do it more, yet proud that he typically was the source of it sprouting in the first place. Crimson eyes followed your movements as you shuffled off the bed to grab a small deck of cards off of your shelf. A part of him hoped you heard the chuckle that left his lips while you struggled to stand on your toes to retrieve this game.

“It's called ‘Uno’ “ You explained, walking back to him with a red box in hand. “It's a pretty simple game and the rules are easy.” Dumping the cards out of the box, the two of you sat parallel with one another.

”However, this simple game has been known to end more friendships than Monopoly and Mario Kart put together. It shall truly test our bond as companions, only the strongest survive it's trials..” You spoke in a dramatic tone while shuffling the cards and placing the proper numbers out for the both of you. Once you were finished, you placed the extra cards in the middle and looked the Radio Demon square in the eye. “Are you ready?”

“Yes yes,” He replied aloofly. “There isn't any possible way this silly game could cause such a staggering amount of broken relationships. I refuse to believe it's that bad.’

You chuckled bitterly. “You beautiful unsuspecting fool.”

---------------------- ( 2 Hours Later) ---------------------

“That's against the rules!” Alastor hissed underneath his breath as you threw out a fat stack of +2 cards.

“No it's not Alastor, you said you wanted to play stacks and this is how it's played.” You muttered.

The first round between you two consisted of showing Alastor the ropes. The confident man he was, he assured you that the game was easy enough for an infant to play and win effortlessly, especially since he won the first round. You then decide to spice things up by teaching him how to play stacks. He claimed that was easy as well and you allowed him to believe this as the next round consisted of him losing, and so did the next round, and the round after that, and the round after that…

Before you knew it, two hours had gone by and Alastor was determined to beat you at least once. It had gotten so intense that he resorted to taking his tail coat off and even putting his hair up, leaving him in his tight red office shirt and hair that framed his face like the scrumdiddlyumptious being that he was. The sight of his bare arms totally didn't have you blushing up a storm behind your cards.

While he was stewing over his next move, you got to confirm a few fan theories and ogled at his appearance.

Respectfully, of course.

But, the game wasn't over yet. Alastor sat across from you, irritated and with at least eleven cards in his hand, while you had three. The air was tense as he scratched his head and finally decided to throw out a small handful of 8’s, bringing his card count down to five.

Your poker face remained unmoving as you calmly threw out a wild card. “Blue.”

A warble of interference omitted from Alastor's person as his eyes scanned his cards carefully. You were actually surprised at how the tables had turned personality wise. In the beginning, it was Alastor who was calm and collected, but every loss slowly chipped away at the pride that fueled his unwavering persona. His usual smile was now looking more forced, making his disdain obvious.

Throwing out a blue card, you threw out two on top, leaving you with one card as you stated that dreadful word. “Uno.”

With a growl, Alastor tossed out a draw +4. “Red.” He stated blandly. A quick glance at the clock let him know he was late for a meeting with Charlie, but formalities be damned because he was going to win this game.

You took your cards quickly and deemed your hand an amazing one. He replied by tossing out a 2 and leaving three cards left. Victory was close and he swore that once he won he would ‘kindly’ rub it in your face.

But, just as you had been doing for these past five rounds, you had an ace up your sleeve. You tossed out the red ‘Skip’ card, costing Alastor a vital turn that could have turned the tables, only to metaphorically slap him in the face by cheering “Uno!” and dropping your final cards in the middle of the messy deck.

He suppressed a scream of irritation as you did your little victory dance, glaring at you both with gaiety and pure spite. He stood up and snapped his coat back on and his hair back down, he pinched your cheek just a little too hard. “That's enough cutting a rug darling, especially for someone that has two left feet such as yourself.”

“Stop trying to cease my dancing, I must wiggle out my joy.”

With a roll of his eyes, he tuned the radio on to his station to prepare to go back home. “Well you can dance until your heart's content, unfortunately I have to return back home to handle some business.”

Immediately your uncoordinated movements stopped, as you frowned. “Oh, right..”

Part of him felt bad. Not that he would tell you outright, but he didn't exactly want to leave you behind either. The thoughts of what your father could do unannounced made him concerned for your safety, but there wasn't anything he could do. Instead, he smiled genuinely and lifted your gaze up with his finger.

“Chin up, dearest. I shall check on you tomorrow as always and don't forget, you still need to make up your mind about what you want from the options presented to you.”

You didn't reply verbally, but you did nod your head sadly which would have to be enough for now. As he prepared to walk off, he was suddenly stopped by a tight embrace from behind. Anyone else who would have ever dared to think of such a thing would have been a splatter on the wall and he was just about to give you a kind yet serious talk about personal space until he felt something wet soaking through his clothes.

“..Thank you.” You mumbled through the fabric. Inhaling his scent as you sniffled and tried to calm down, honestly you were surprised he didn't push you off.

As mentioned before, emotions were not Alastor's think nor was physical affection. However in this moment, with you crying lightly and hugging him as if he were your only hope of survival, he decided that maybe, just this once, he would let it slide.

For his comfort, you didn't allow the hug to last longer than a minute. Once you pulled away you were embarrassed to say the least and prepared for him to possibly scold or never talk to you again. But, to your surprise, he simply pat your head and whispered, “Sleep tight, cher.”and was gone with a blink of your eyes.

To say you were sad was an understatement, but you knew that he'd be back tomorrow like he was everyday. The idea of talking to him tomorrow. To hear his voice in real time, talking to you and to offer comfort because he actually cared made your heart pound in your chest. As much as you didn't want to think this way, you couldn't help it. He seemed so concerned about you, in a way that no one else has until now.

You did your best to still your beating heart as you began to clean up your fun from earlier, only to find your cards were missing. You looked everywhere and still couldn't find them, ultimately you claimed into bed and decided that maybe Alastor snapped them somewhere you'd never find so that he wouldn't have to loose, I mean, play anymore.

Meanwhile…

“Alastor you're late!” Vaggie snapped as he came waltzing down the stairs, following her to where the rest of the group sat waiting.

“I am aware Vagatha, I was busy doing something else.” He replied calmly, only to make the fallen angel more irritated. “Whatever, I hope you brought something because it's your turn for a group activity today..”

“But of course! How could I forget?” He smiled impishly, before pulling out a red box with a familiar word on it. Once with the rest of the residents, Alastor clapped his hands together and pulled out a chalkboard seemingly out of nowhere.

“For today's activity being hosted by yours truly, we shall all be playing a game suited for bonding and the strengthening of relationships,” He beamed, writing out the title of the game in big letters for everyone to see.

“The name of the game is...UNO!"

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

(Thank you for coming back for Chapter 3# of this story! I hope you stick around for the next one because I plan to make it the last. I've been so busy with life and stuff, it's kinda hard to find time or motivation to write, but I do want this to come to a close while still making room for a bit of fun between Al and the Reader.

For those who asked me to make a tag list, I'm not entirely sure how to 😅. Though I will try to figure it out for the next time I write a short story. Don't forget to leave your opinions behind in the comments and thank you for all the love you guys give me, it means a lot 💜

Stay Tuned! :D

Taglist: @twistedvanillacoffee @diffidentphantom @boldlyenchantingfox22

[discordiansamba]

right. where does he even start?

hi jin. everything you know about me is a lie. i wasn't lying to you though, because i believed it too. really concise and to the point. sounds absolutely terrible. he might as well just start with 'hello, prince zuko here' if he's trying to shove his foot into his mouth.

"do you remember those rumors," lee asks, "-about uh. the dai li brainwashing people?"

jin blinks. yeah, she's heard them. they'd even discussed them before. they were just fire nation propaganda right? the dai li wouldn't do that. they're supposed to protect us. lee wrings his hands and tells her they're all true, actually. the dai li really did brainwash people. you know how people keep telling you that I don't have an uncle? that I wasn't a refugee?

yeah, uh. the thing is. i was also brainwashed.

jin just stares at him like she's waiting for the punchline. it's only when she realizes he's serious that she takes his hand and asks what he means. she doesn't understand. why would the dai li make him believe he had a father, or that he was born and raised in ba sing se? she can't imagine mushi causing trouble.

"because I'm not- my name isn't lee," he tells her, "-well, I mean it is. sort of. but it's also not. it's really complicated."

jin asks him to explain.

lee takes in and lets out a deep breath. he swears he feels the flames of the lanterns flicker around them. it's oddly calming. he slowly begins to explain. he tells her that the dai li altered his mind and made him believe he'd always lived here. that his name was lee, and that his father was a member of the dai li. that his mother was dead, and his burn was from a house fire. he was... someone else before, but they remade him into a simple tea server- stripping him of his original personality in the process.

being lee is all he knows.

jin just stares at him. her grip on his hand has grown so tight that her knuckles are white. she asks him if he's not lee, then who is he?

"i mean, i kind of am lee," he admits, "-i'm not uh. i'm still brainwashed. it's not as bad as it sounds? i'm- i'm happy like this, and... i don't think i was before. i could go back to the person i was before, but i'm not sure if i want to."

she asks him again who he used to be.

he sighs. he tells her it's going to sound made up. that she's going to be angry with him. he promises her that he's never lied to her. he'd thought his whole life here as lee the tea server was real- and that he really does love her. he wasn't made to fall in love with her or anything. he just did.

"lee," she asks him again, "-who were you?"

"...zuko," he tells her, "-prince zuko."

she releases his hand and just stares at him, her eyes wide. the fire nation prince? the banished one? lee nods. he's still trying to wrap his head around it. jin just stares at him. you helped conquer ba sing se. lee hangs his head. yeah. he did. he doesn't remember any of it, but he did. he says he thinks prince zuko thought it would bring him his honor back or something.

all it got him was being backstabbed by his sister.

that's why they ended up serving princess azula, he says. because avatar aang and his friends found him and realized who he was, even when he couldn't. katara could heal him. make him into the person he once was, but father and princess azula didn't want that. they wanted him to stay as lee for the rest of his life.

"if you want to break up with me," lee says, "-i wouldn't blame you."

jin tells him she needs some time to think this over.

lee doesn't blame her.

it's an odd feeling, telling his nephew about himself.

but it is clear that the young man sitting across from iroh is not his nephew- as much as he might have zuko's face and body. even with the knowledge of his true self, he still treats him as a distant stranger- one that he must be deeply respectful of, but still a stranger. katara has kept him abreast of the situation, though he suspects there is something the young waterbender has been keeping to herself.

looking at lee, he suspects he can sense what it is.

he tells lee of zuko's agni kai.

he tells him what lead to it. lee looks surprised at zuko's outrage at the planned sacrifice of young soldiers. he is not sure he can blame him- he can only imagine what zuko's reputation is in the earth kingdom. to them he was only a banished prince, disloyal to his father and punished for it without knowing the exact reason why. he had chased the avatar with the intent of turning him over to his father, and then had helped conquer ba sing se.

iroh holds nothing back.

he tells lee of zuko. of how he let himself be redefined by his anger after the agni kai. but he also tells him that he helped the avatar escape pohuai stronghold, even if his reasons for doing so were less than pure. he tells them of their life as refugees. he tells them of zuko's choice under lake laogai, when he freed appa.

he tells him of how he chose to ally with his sister during the coup.

lee listens to him quietly- but it is like he is being told a story about another person. someone he's never met. when iroh is finished, lee exhales, as if he's been holding his breath all this time. it has been some time since iroh started speaking, but there is still steam rising from lee's cup.

"he wasn't happy," lee says, "-was he?"

"no," iroh admits, "-not for a long time. not since his mother disappeared."

lee cannot meet his eyes. he opens his mouth and shuts it, like there is something he wishes to say, but cannot manage. iroh sighs, and gives him his word as fire lord that whatever he wishes to say to him, he can say it without consequence. lee takes in a deep breath, and slowly lets it out.

"i don't know," he admits, "-if I want to go back."

and there it is, out in the open.

it would not be the first child iroh has lost to ba sing se. this is perhaps a kinder way to lose one. zuko would not be himself, but he could be happy there. they will have to deal with lan-wei and azula, but if that is the path he wishes to choose... then iroh will support it. he asks him only to think about it before he makes his choice.

deep down, he has wondered if a distant promise of happiness was what finally made zuko surrender.

"lady mai tells me this is the royal family's personal villa," lee says after a moment, "-but I don't know this place. I've never been here before, but there are portraits all over the place of someone who looks just like me. i can't get comfortable here."

"...I think I need to go home. to ba sing se."

"and if you go," iroh asks, "-will you be able to make up your mind?"

lee nods. iroh heaves a sigh. in truth, he does not want to let him go. but his nephew must make his own decisions. he is eighteen now. nearly an adult. the last time iroh tried to force him into seeing things his way, it did not end as he'd hoped. not for himself- nor for zuko.

"then go," iroh says, "-one way or another, you will find the answers you seek there."

[mynameisbillandimaheadcase]

Tw

[ghostprincessworld]

Headcanon that at some point, when they are like 27/28 Gauntwood goes on like a 1 month "vacation" without any of the staff. It will be nice to be truly alone together. They rent a cabin that is a bit isolated, not to far form markets and such.

However, they forgot to account for the fact that they don't know how to take care of themselves:

Day 1&2

Going alright, they brought a few meals with them. 

they are free to love each other openly in this private place, this place is beautiful and they love it!

except when they go to bed, they note that the bed had not been made that morning. This is never properly resolved. There are a few attempts to make it, but they resign themselves to a poorly made (mostly an unmade) bed

Day 3

Prepared meals are gone. they go to the market, They have a fun time.

Sidney has no doubts they can figure it out, Henry is like, "Have you ever cooked a chicken before?"Well, no, but I used to watch my mum do it when I was a kid," Henry has absolute faith in his husband because he's an idiot 

“So we just put it in the oven? The chicken and the veggies?" "Yeah that's how my mum did it!" (They are making roast potatoes, carrots, and chicken)

they didn't use any seasonings, butter, or oil, the chicken is overcooked, so dry and plain. The potatoes and carrots are too hard and burnt at the same time. 

"Sidney, I love you, but this is disgusting."

“No, you're right. If you stop loving me, I'll understand." 

they end up picking through it just eating the least inedible parts it's not a lot, and they eat a lot packaged snacks that night

Day 5 

Henry has a brilliant (terrible) idea, he's going to make them breakfast, eggs, and lamb sausage.

Sidney comes into the kitchen when there is smoke everywhere

they put out the smoke, and the (unseasoned) eggs are burnt to the pan.

"WHAT is going on!!!" "I was uhh... making breakfast..."Why did you cook it so long?" "Excuse me, I didn't want us to get salmonella!"

For dinner, they plan to make pasta. Together, this is going to be a team effort. Henry immediately puts the dry noodles in a pot and no water, Sidney stops him.

They call Maud, and she laughs at her useless brother and his husband but agrees to help

"Okay now you'll wanna add any veggies to the sauce" "veggies...?i didn't get any" "okay skip that, just add your seasonings" "seasonings?" "Okay... it gonna be a bit plain"

"Why are all noodles sticking together weird?" "Did you salt the water like I said?" "Oh..."

S: what if we heat the water up twice as hot , then we can cook the noodles half the time 

H: No, it will probably burn them

M: idiots you can't heat water past boiling

Pasta is plain, but edible

Other cooking mishaps:

Pasta take 2: no veggies again, goes way to hard on the seasonings, add like every single one, there is cinnamon in the pasta

Henry makes eggs(unseasoned) bacon and toast (only a little burnt)

"Henry, I love you so much, and this is so sweet, but I don't eat pork"

"Oh god! I knew that! The butcher was just looking at me, and I panicked. " Henry is about to cry

Sidney spends way too long slicing (mutilating) a loaf of bread with a meat knife

Cleaning

By day 3 all of their clothes are wrinkled because they don't know how to iron and they didn't pack them well

It fine they are mostly being seen by just each other, but it makes them feel icky

At the market a woman is looking at henry, and he get insecure and just tells her unprompted that his wife is too sick to iron

By 2 weeks in they have no clean clothes

S: What if we just sent it all to the dry cleaner

H: You wanna send our underwear to the dry cleaners? No we are supposed to be learning this, we are living a simple life

S: What if we were just naked from now on

Back on the phone with Maud, they learn how to wash clothes. They have pasta stained clothes they can't fix. Clothes are wearable again, still wrinkly :(

They wash no dishes for the first 4 days, it's a terrible mess. It takes 15 min to scrub the burnt pan because they didn't realise they can soak the bad dishes

The whole place is a bit dusty by the end

Fun stuff

There is a lake on the property and they go skinny dipping

They fish (and successfully cook it over a fire)

Stargaze: “hey did you that constellation [insert greek info dump]” nerd

Ellwood convinces Gaunt to dance with him

They play card games

They get to be domestic without any prying eyes

Overall, they had a great time! They picked up some novice-level skills along the way and, despite the chaos, they’d be willing to try this again in the future (and they do). When they get back they are this close to kissing Luis on the mouth.

[lynxfrost13]

Man for some reason the “not living up to my potential” in terms of my art is really hitting today which is stupid.

Hey brain you know that art is a forever journey and that it’s okay to grow and learn and not be perfect right???

[buttercupshands]

Thinking about what happened in the summer

Kids are... Really different when it comes to spending three weeks without their parents

Some start crying near the end of first day

Some start crying after couple of days

And some don't show anything while feeling the same

And being... I think English has a good word for that, let's go with a teacher but mix it with caretaker a little bit

I think seeing a kid cry at the end of that first day finally short circuited my brain, teens are way harder to understand that pre-teens who are literally still kids

They come around after a week, settle down and find new friends and your job stays the same mostly to be the one controlling their behavior

And then you'd have a kid crying again, because they miss home and the only thing you can really do is comfort them that they're not stuck here forever and that time flows so fast they won't notice it

And maybe they didn't. Time really did flew and they were leaving

Parents visited kids sometimes, of course, and it was so scary at first but they were mostly friendly and nice

Maybe because of that group chat that let them see that their kids are fine and are having fun

In the end for kids it was painful at first, but fun in the end. I got hugged more times than I could count when they were all leaving

And then poof

Back to your own life you go, like nothing happened

[beloveds-embrace]

part 2 of baker!reader + do not ever ask me to write accents lmao i suck at those 💀😭 and a huge thank you to all the sweet and dessert suggestions! i couldn't add all of them, but oh my god did i love all of them and choosing between them was sooo hard (that's what she said). if your dessert didn't make it here im soo sorry 😭

It was a quiet morning when you finally decided to reopen the bakery. The town had been whispering, speculating about the sudden disappearance of your husband—tragic, they said, to be found mauled by a bear in the woods. You hadn’t shed a tear, hadn’t flinched at the news. Maybe that was cruel of you, but after what you had endured, you couldn’t bring yourself to feel anything for him anymore. Not fear, not sadness—just relief.

And now, with the bakery open once again, you felt lighter. Freer.

The 141 boys were there first thing, as you had hoped. Each one walking into the cozy space like they belonged there. Their heavy, winter boots made the wooden floors creak, their towering frames somehow making the space feel intimate rather than intimidating. You smiled as the familiar smell of fresh bread and sugar lingered in the air, the warmth of the ovens cocooning you and the rest of the bakery in comfort. Free from that terrible man you’d called a husband, it was as if the world itself was taking on a more vibrant color.

“Morning, sweetheart,” John greeted you, his eyes crinkling beneath his hat, though there was something watchful in his gaze.

“Bonnie,” Johnny chirped, leaning on the counter, his eyes sparkling as they usually did when he spoke to you. “Place smells heavenly as always.”

“You’re open today, huh?” Kyle said, grinning as he eyed the display of pastries lined up neatly behind the glass. “Missed our favorite baker, honestly.”

Simon didn’t say anything at first, just gave you a long, steady look from behind his mask. You knew he had seen the signs. He was the only one who had seen the bruises, had taken your hands so gently that day and whispered that promise. You hadn’t asked for it, hadn’t said anything in return, but you had trusted him all the same. You are glad you did. You are so glad it’d been him to see.

Now, as you wiped your hands on your apron and stepped out from behind the counter, your heart was lighter than it had been in months. “Everything’s on the house today,” you said, your smile wider than it had been in ages. “For you guys, at least. After all… I’ve got a few new things for you to try.”

Soap raised an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at his lips. “Is that so? Then we’re in for a treat, eh boys?”

You went back to the counter, pulling out a few trays and plates, your hands moving quickly as you started setting them down in front of the men, watching their eyes light up at the spread. “I’ve been experimenting,” you said, your voice light, almost teasing. “For John, I’ve got pecan pie. Thought you might like it—something a bit rich, a bit warm.” Like you, goes unsaid but you hoped he still heard it.

John’s eyes gleamed as he accepted the slice you placed in front of him. “Always knew you were a mind reader,” he murmured with a chuckle, cutting into the pie and taking a bite. The smile that spread across his face was slow, but appreciative.

“For you, Kyle, lemon meringue tarts. Something sharp, refreshing. A little tangy,” you said, setting the plate in front of him. “And a bit sweet, too. Had a feeling you’d like it!”

Kyle laughed, picking up the tart and admiring it at first. “You know me too well.” He took a bite, his eyes widening at the burst of lemon on his tongue and then groaning in delight. “Perfect, as always.”

Simon watched you closely, and when you placed a plate of apple fritters in front of him, his gaze softened just slightly. “Made these with you in mind,” you said, your voice gentle. “Thought you’d appreciate something classic, Si. Simple, but comforting.”

He didn’t say anything at first, just nodded in that way of his, taking the fritter in his gloved hand. When he took a bite, his eyes closed briefly, and you could see the silent approval in the way his shoulders seemed to relax ever so slightly.

“And for you, Johnny,” you giggled, setting down a small bowl of Cranachan in front of him. “Thought you might like something traditional- whisky, raspberries, oats, and cream. Feels like a bit of home, doesn’t it? At least I hope so. It was my first time making it.”

Johnny beamed all the same, eagerly reaching for a spoon. “Ah, bonnie, you’re spoiling us.”

But it wasn’t just them you were thinking of. You had made a fresh batch of focaccia bread for yourself, but this wasn’t just any bread- it was bold, spiced with rosemary and topped with chilli flakes and garlic. It was a reflection of your own newfound boldness. You’d been quiet, subdued for so long. Now, you wanted to feel alive again.Perhaps it might seem corny, but this focaccia bread meant to signify that for you.

You set a slice of the focaccia on a plate for yourself, taking a bite as you sat with them, your smile not faltering for a second. It was savoury- settling warmth in your stomach. “I think this might be my new favorite, actually.” you said with a soft laugh. In your mind, you were already thinking of making and selling more of it.

They didn’t say much in response, still tasting their own desserts, but you could feel their appreciation, their understanding, in the quiet way they accepted it.

The rest of the bakery was alive with the smell of freshly baked treats: rich brownies, soft sugar cookies, fluffy cronuts, and delicate eclairs. Tres leches cakes sat next to pumpkin pies, while apple and custard empanadas filled the air with their sweet, warm scent. Cheesecakes, cardamom rolls, strawberry lamingtons—the selection was almost overwhelming, but everything sold well. Especially the bear claw pastries. You smiled softly to yourself at the irony. The bearclaw pastries might also be your new favorite, right alongside the focaccia.

Johnny noticed it immediately, the little twitch of your lips, and raised an eyebrow. “What’s so funny, bonnie?”

You waved him off, shaking your head. “Oh, nothing. Just… the bear claws. They’ve been selling really well lately. Thought it was… fitting.”

Simon’s eyes flicked to you, then to the bear claw pastries sitting neatly in a display case. A slow understanding crossed his gaze, but he didn’t say anything. Just a slight nod, the corner of his mouth twitching, the silent acknowledgment of the truth that you all shared. You had no doubt the others knew about it as well- maybe even had a hand in it. Such incredible men.

And for the first time, standing in your bakery, surrounded by warmth and the quiet camaraderie of the men you had come to trust, you felt a sense of peace wash over you. The past was behind you. Now, you had a future to look forward to—one filled with new beginnings, layers to unfold like a mille-feuille crepe cake, and the quiet reassurance that you were no longer alone.

“Here’s to new beginnings,” you said, raising your cup of coffee, your smile bright and genuine.

The boys raised their cups in return, their expressions soft but full of unspoken promises. “To new beginnings,” they echoed, and for the first time in a long time, you believed it. Especially because you could see the way they were looking at you.

masterpost

[incognit0slut]

BATTLE SCARS

Part 2 of kinktober | main masterlist

What started out as innocently counting body scars with your coworker, who you were stuck in the same bed with, ended far from being innocent.

sub!spencer x fem!reader; Face sitting, male and female oral, body worship, cockwarming

words: 6,300 (I couldn’t help it the buildup was fun to write)

a/n: I hope this shows up on your page because apparently this app hates me

"THERE’S ONLY ONE ROOM LEFT."

Of course, there is, you thought, eyes glancing over to your partner of the day. Spencer was the one you were partnered with when Hotch had sent you to check on the victim's childhood home. He's good at deducing clues, was what your unit chief had said, and although those words were well-intentioned, you couldn't help but feel slightly dejected.

One month of working in the BAU meant that everyone would scrutinize you, even when you knew you were more than capable of doing the job. It wasn't like you were randomly picked for this position. You went through the same process as everyone else did. You were as smart as everyone was but it seemed that your boss still thought you needed a babysitter to do this simple task.

One month of working as the latest addition to the team also meant you didn't know your colleagues that well, which was why you wondered what was going through Spencer's mind in this current predicament. What did he think of the sudden thunderstorm hitting this remote town just as you were about to leave? What did he feel about having to seek shelter because driving in this terrible condition wasn't a choice anymore?

And what ran through his mind when the guy behind the counter, who looked like he didn't even want to be here in the first place, said there was only one room left?

"Are you sure?" Your coworker pressed on, eyes darting across the computer screen sitting on the desk. "Did you check every room? All of them?"

The man in front of him quirked an eyebrow. "Are you saying I'm not doing my job right?"

"No, he's not," you cut in. You glanced at Spencer, noticing he was constantly fidgeting on his feet. You might not know him well enough, but you were a profiler, and with the way he kept shifting his weight from one leg to another, you could tell he was uncomfortable with the situation. You wondered what had him so worked up like this. Was it the idea of having to spend the night with a woman? 

Well, he did seem like the type of guy who didn't have his fair share of nights with the opposite sex, but then again, you weren't going to start guessing his personal life. Although you did once see him act all bashful in front of a witness who, you had to admit, was the epitome of sweet and innocent. Her traits were probably on the top list of his preferred type, exactly the opposite of yours.

Huh.

So was it just the idea of spending the night with you that ticked him off?

"It's fine," you said, looking back at—you narrowed your eyes at the name tag clipped on his shirt—Kevin. His name was Kevin. "We'll take it."

Spencer's eyes fell on you. "But—"

"But it's pouring outside and neither of us should be driving in this horrible weather," you added. "End of discussion."

He looked like he was about to retort a reply when a sudden string of light cackled through the night sky, followed by another heavy downpour. He winced as his shoulders slumped, another posture of discomfort but one with a hint of defeat. You saw him reluctantly nod from the corner of your eyes.

"Alright," he finally said. "We'll take it."

Kevin slid a key across the wooden desk. "Room 306."

You thanked him and grabbed onto the key before turning on your heels. The walk to the room was extremely quiet except for the constant sound of the rain pouring outside. Spencer shuffled his feet beside you, and even though you wanted to fill in the silence, the thought of him not wanting to room with you annoyed you more than you wanted to admit.

Were you really that bad? Was the idea of sharing a room with you repulsive for him to act this way?

When you finally reached your shared room, an immediate sense of awkwardness washed over you like an unexpected wave. The room, though not large, was well-furnished and neat. But what caught your attention was the sight that greeted you in the dimly lit space. In the center of the room was a bed—not large enough to be luxurious, yet not small enough to be cozy.

Your eyes met briefly with his and a moment of unease passed between you two. Finally, he broke the silence with a hesitant voice. "I can sleep in the car."

You couldn't help but roll your eyes at his suggestion. "It's pouring outside."

"Right." He sighed, realizing the impracticality of his proposal. "Well, then I'll, uh, sleep on the floor."

"Reid." Your narrowed eyes fixed on him, your patience wearing thin. "The bed is big enough for the both of us. I don't mind sharing."

He paused, clearly taken aback by your straightforward response. "A-Are you sure?"

"I wouldn't have suggested it if I wasn't," you replied, showing your back to him. "I'm going to use the bathroom first."

"U-uh, yes. Sure. Of course," he stammered, his voice trailing off as he watched you leave the room.

You retreated to the bathroom, closing the door behind you with a soft click. As you washed your hands and splashed some cool water on your face, you couldn't help but wonder what had led to his initial hesitance. The storm outside was fierce, and the idea of venturing into it to sleep in the car or on the floor seemed impractical, to say the least. You knew that sharing the bed was the most sensible option, but there was an unspoken tension in the room, and you couldn't quite put your finger on why he had been so reluctant.

Turning off the tap, you took a deep breath. Whatever. He could act all uncomfortable as much as he wanted and you could pretend he wasn't even there. So you decided to shed your jeans, leaving yourself in the oversized button-up shirt that served as your makeshift nightwear.

The shirt fell gracefully to the middle of your thighs, offering a sense of ease you couldn't find in your uncomfortable jeans. With them neatly folded and placed on the bathroom counter, you looked back into the mirror one last time, straightening your wrinkled shirt, and ran a hand through your hair before stepping back into the room.

You found him seated on the edge of the bed, his posture awkward and uncertain. You watched as he shifted uncomfortably, his gaze darting toward the single window in the shared space, his eyes narrowing each time a particularly strong gust of wind rattled the pane.

You decided to break the silence. "You know, it's just a little rain. We'll be out of here as soon as the weather clears up tomorrow."

His gaze finally met yours, and you saw a mixture of frustration and something else, something deeper, in his eyes. "It's not about the rain," he replied, his voice laced with a hint of exasperation.

So it really was about you.

His gaze then traveled over your exposed skin, and you could see his eyes growing wide, clearly taken aback by your choice of attire. "W- What are you wearing?"

Unable to suppress a chuckle at his sudden shift in demeanor, you decided to play along. "Do you mean what I'm not wearing?"

He blinked, his response caught in his throat, leaving him momentarily speechless. His gaping mouth and wide-eyed expression only fueled your amusement. You shrugged in response, trying to play off his intense gaze, but you felt his eyes linger on your thigh, fixated on the long scar mapping along your skin.

"Reid," you called out, and he looked up at you, his expression wry as if he had been caught doing something he shouldn't have been.

"Y-yes?" he stammered, clearly flustered by being caught in the act.

You pointed toward the bathroom. "You can use it now," you suggested.

His face lit up with realization. "Oh! Right," he exclaimed, his flustered state evident as he stumbled on his way to the bathroom.

The awkwardness seemed to follow him as he disappeared into the other room. After turning off the main lights, you left only the soft glow of the bed lamp, which cast a warm ambiance in the room. The covers provided a sense of security and comfort as you finally settled beneath them.

A few minutes later, he emerged from the bathroom, dressed in a white shirt he seemed to wear under his button-down shirt. However, unlike you, he still had his pants on, although he did discard his belt.

Seeing him in this stripped-down, casual state was a bizarre sight. You had grown accustomed to his poised and professional demeanor, and the sight of him dressed in ordinary clothes seemed oddly intimate as if you were witnessing a side of him that few others had seen. It was as if you were seeing him naked even when he was still covered in most of his clothes.

He then settled onto the bed with a noticeable awkwardness, causing the mattress to sink down slightly under his weight. He lay far away from you, in a stiff and distant manner, clearly still grappling with the awkwardness of the situation.

"Reid, relax, I'm not going to bite you," you said reassuringly, trying to dispel some of the tension in the room. A small, playful smile danced on your lips. "Unless that's what you want me to do," you added, your voice taking on a teasing note.

A brief moment of silence followed, and it almost seemed as if he was contemplating your playful offer. You felt the tension shift into something else, but before it could further linger, you decided to break the silence with a forced laugh, shaking off the tension. You then rolled over to your side, closing your eyes shut, ignoring the sound of heavy rain hitting the window and the bolt of lightning occasionally flashing through the sky. You just wanted to rest. You just wanted peace. You wanted to sleep.

But sleep didn't want you.

About ten minutes later, you groaned softly and rolled over onto your back. "Reid," you said, breaking the silence.

He hummed in response.

"I can't sleep," you confessed, your voice carrying a hint of restlessness. Turning to face him, you propped yourself up on your elbow. "Tell me something about yourself," you suddenly requested, your curiosity cutting through the awkwardness.

He hesitated for a moment as if considering whether he should respond to you or not, but then he eventually asked, "Anything?" 

"Anything."

"Well, I—uh," he cut off, and with a faint hint of modesty, he began again. "I'm extremely smart."

From all the information he could share, he decided to share that. But it was still something, at least you could get your coworker to talk instead of fidgeting in discomfort. "Yeah? How smart?"

"Well, I have an IQ of 187 and three PhDs."

Your eyebrows shot up in surprise. "That's impressive," you responded, but then you let out a scoff. "And extremely conceited. Someone asks you to share a fact about yourself and you decide to brag about your brain."

Your remark earned you a small, amused smile from him. "You told me to share anything."

With a mischievous glint in your eye, you leaned in a little closer. "Alright, your turn."

He gulped at your sudden movement but kept his attention on your eyes. "My turn for what?"

You laid on your back again. "Ask me something," you suggested.

There was a moment of hesitation as if he had been contemplating whether to ask the question and then his voice filled the air. "What happened to you?"

"What do you mean?" You asked, your brows furrowed slightly.

"Y-Your scar."

You couldn't resist a teasing tone as you turned your head toward him. "Spencer Reid," you taunted, a playful glint in your eye. "Were you checking me out?"

His response was quick and slightly flustered. "What? No!" He cleared his throat awkwardly. "It was a mere observation," he clarified, his cheeks tinged with a faint blush.

Your laughter filled the room, a light, and genuine sound that seemed to dissolve some of the remaining tension in the air. "Alright, alright," you conceded, still amused by the exchange. "Observation duly noted."

Without warning, you kicked off the covers, a spontaneous decision driven by a mix of curiosity and the playful atmosphere that had developed between you. Your actions were unanticipated, even to yourself, but perhaps it was his flustered self that had spurred you on.

As the covers fell to the side, you extended your leg, showing him the white scar dancing along the inner part of your thigh. His eyes widened in surprise, his gaze drawn to your exposed skin. For a moment, there was silence, as if the room held its breath, and then he met your eyes.

"Fell off a cliff from a hiking trip," you explained, your voice softening with the memory. "I was exploring a trail and had a bit of a mishap. It left me with this scar as a souvenir."

His eyes flickered over the scar. "Did it hurt?"

You shrugged. "It did, but I guess I got through it."

Then, to his surprise, you began to unbutton your shirt. His eyes widened in disbelief at your actions. "W-what are you doing?"

You merely grinned in response, your confidence unwavering. You pushed the material of your shirt off your shoulder, revealing another scar, smaller and darker than the one on your thigh. "This is the most painful one," you explained. "A bullet from a handgun."

He examined the scar intently. "What happened?"

"A chase with a suspect a few years ago," you recounted, recalling your life before you joined the BAU. "We cornered the suspect in an abandoned warehouse, it was a tense standoff. He was armed, and in the chaos of the moment, a shot was fired." You gave him a smile. "I was the unlucky one in the way."

Your eyes locked with one another in a moment of shared understanding, and then you asked, "What about you? Any battle scars?"

He paused for a moment, considering your question. He seemed hesitant at first as if debating whether to share, but then he slowly lifted his shirt, revealing a scar on his lower abdomen. "Flying bullet."

He turned slightly, revealing a slight scar on his lower back, the result of a sharp weapon grazing his skin. It was a subtle yet significant mark. "An Unsub armed with a knife." He then laid back on his back again and tapped his right leg. "There's another scar from a bullet on my knee."

You couldn't help but tease him lightly, your tone playful. "Well, aren't you a magnet for disaster?"

His expression softened at your teasing. You stared at each other silently, taking in each other's presence in the close proximity the bed offered. You weren't sure how, or when for the matter, but it seemed the distance you both created grew shorter in the span of time you were talking.

Your gaze drifted over his features, from his brown orbs to his pointed nose, then along his high cheekbones before settling on the small scar underneath his jawline. It was a subtle mark, but it caught your attention, and you couldn't resist reaching out to gently touch it.

"What about this?" you inquired, your finger tracing the scar. "How did you get it?"

His breath seemed to catch at your sudden touch, and he stammered slightly in response, "I-I cut myself with a razor this morning."

You couldn't help but chuckle at his explanation, and your finger continued to graze his skin, skimming along the faded scar in a circular motion. "And how bad did it hurt?" you asked.

"Not so much," he whispered, his breathing starting to become uneven and it was at that moment you realized how compromising of a position you were in. He was on his back, and somehow you managed to press yourself onto him with a leg resting on his, your hips flushed against his side.

Maybe the rain, the rhythmic pattern of the raindrops beating in synchronized with your heart pushed your actions. Or perhaps it was being in the same bed. Whatever it was, the undeniable proximity between you created a charged atmosphere in the room. Every breath felt heavy, and the air seemed to thicken with unspoken tension, drawing you even closer.

You wanted to kiss him. How could you not when he was looking at you with those eyes? It was hard to ignore this sudden pull of attraction, but Spencer seemed like the type of guy who rarely made the first move. Maybe you needed to initiate it first.

"You know..." you began, your eyes trailing across his tiny scar. "I was thinking of kissing it better?" Your words hung in the air, and you felt him stiffen beside you. "If it was painful, that is."

A charged silence enveloped the room after your suggestive offer. Your heart raced, taking a leap at the first step in crossing the line. He could either play along or push you away, it was a risk you were willing to take, and you prayed he was into it just as you were.

"A- Actually," he stuttered. "I think I'm starting to feel the pain now."

You bit your bottom lip to stop yourself from smiling. "Oh, you poor thing." And before he could respond, you bent over and pressed your soft lips against his scar. You felt him momentarily freeze. "Better?"

You thought he was about to back away when he didn't answer, but then his words had you grinning from ear to ear.

"...I'm not sure," he replied, his voice cutting through the silence. "I think it still hurts?"

Your smile grazed his scar again, softly, barely even touching it, before you trailed down his jawline, stopping on the crook of his neck.

"I.." He breathed out, his voice sounding strangled as you felt his grip on your hip. "I-I don't think that's where the scar is."

"I know." You opened your mouth, your tongue slightly tasting his skin. "I'm making a scar of my own."

Your parted lips were hot against his skin, his eyes fluttering close as you softly sucked on the spot below his ear. You always loved receiving neck kisses, but giving them? There was a certain sense of power to be able to make someone shiver under you, and it was what he was doing right now, breath hitching every time you sucked on a different spot.

You cupped his face as you continued to trail your lips along his neck, pressing your body closer to his. You moved your hand lower, fingers grazing his jawline before it rested around his throat, and as you put slight pressure on your hold, you heard him inhale sharply. You paused, not sure you were hearing right, but then you tightened your grip around his neck and a soft, strangled moan escaped his lips.

You smiled.

Spencer Reid, you naughty, kinky boy.

"We can stop if you want," you murmured against his skin because truthfully, you knew you couldn't restrain yourself after this.

"N- no," he sighed. "Don't stop."

It was enough for you to throw your leg over him. You lifted yourself up and straddled his lower half, stifling a moan as you felt the hard pressure between your thighs, and pressed your lips against his. You couldn't stop yourself from kissing him with so much fervor. Your lips collided with his as you pushed your tongue inside his opened mouth—tasting him, exploring him, devouring him. Who would've thought you would enjoy kissing your coworker this much?

You pulled away and studied him. Spencer was a blessing to witness. His eyes were heavy and hooded, his hair was disheveled with some strands stuck to his forehead and his lips were swollen and parted as he breathed slowly through them. His pale complexion bore the marks of a flush and you couldn't stop yourself from pushing away a strand of hair from his face.

"You're so pretty." Those words came out of your mouth without much thought in which you received a breathless sigh in return.

"You're.... you're more pretty."

You giggled and ran your fingers through his hair. "You understand I'm not going to stop now, right?" He faintly nodded. "And do you know what that means?"

He shook his head.

"It means I'm going to fuck you," you taunted, a wicked smile curling on your lips. "I'm going to fuck you so hard you won't be able to use that smart brain of yours.”

The whine flying out of his mouth was enough for you to lean in closer, your lips extremely close to his but not quite touching. "Can I be rough?" His strangled whimper had you wrapping your hand around his throat again. "Use your words, baby."

"Y-yes," he breathed out. "Please."

"Good."

You pulled your hand back and brought it down sharply on his cheek.  The sound startled you because it sounded harder than it felt, ringing out loud with only the faintest sting on your palm.

Spencer looked genuinely surprised. His head turned with the impact of the slap, jaw falling open.  He blinked himself back into focus and you were about to ask if you were being too much, but then he looked at you in a way he had never looked at you before. The dazed and desperation of his gaze moved right through you, flushing you with heat.

"Such a pretty boy for me," you said, gently rubbing his cheek. You watched him, a curious smile playing at the corners of your lips. In that moment, you felt a peculiar sense of power and intimacy that was unlike any other you had experienced. It was an odd but exhilarating sensation, feeling an almost illicit delight in the power you held over him.

You then slowly straightened yourself. Taking your time, you began to unbutton your shirt as his gaze burned into you. You popped each button open until it left the sight of your black, laced bra on display for his eyes to devour. Your bra showed a hint of skin over the top, bouncing a little as you pulled yourself out of your shirt.

You reached behind your back to unhook your bra before slipping it from your shoulders, allowing your breasts to bounce free. Spencer couldn't help but swipe his tongue across his lips at the sight. Your breasts were on display with hardened, aching nipples to taunt him. You brought them in your palms, playing and squeezing your flesh for a moment just to tease him.

"Do you want to taste me?"

He let out a desperate sigh. "Please."

You placed the palm of your hands on his chest before leaning in, dropping your breasts right in front of his face. It didn't take him long to know what you wanted, and he quickly wrapped your right nipple in his mouth, his tongue hot against your skin.

"Fuck, Spencer," you moaned. You shivered upon the contact. His mouth sucking on your nipple was making your head delirious. Warmth spiraled from your core to the rest of your body as he tasted you, and when you thought you couldn't feel more aroused than you already were, he let go of your swollen nipple just to give his attention to the other one, sucking even harder.

You couldn't handle it anymore. A moment later your fingers ran down his chest, brushing over his stomach to feel him tense beneath your touch until the second you grip the hem of his pants. "Take these off for me."

You had never seen someone move so fast before. The moment you climbed off the bed, he started peeling his clothes from his body piece by piece. He left no article on before throwing his clothes to the floor, eyes raking your body as you stood before him in nothing but your panties. Those were quick to go, however. You pushed them down your hips and flicked the thin fabric past your feet.

A strained groan filled his chest as he looked at you, marveling at your naked form with wonder. Thoughtlessly he wrapped a hand around the base of his hardened cock and your eyes instantly take in the sight. The way he was biting his bottom lip, fingers around his thick, hard length had your mouth watering, but you stopped yourself from giving in.

"Who said you could touch yourself?"

His body tensed. He quickly placed his hands on the bed as you climbed back on the bed, the mattress sinking in from your weight.

“I like to be warmed up a little first," you told him as you settled on top of him again, but this time, you scooted further, putting your knees on either side of his head. Spencer's eyes went wide as he looked up to see you wet and bare, hovering inches away from his face.

"I'm going to sit on your face, and if you can make me come on your tongue..." You started to lower yourself. "I'll give you your reward."

You felt his breath on your center, and the minute his tongue touched you, you let out a moan. He worked his tongue over your clit, swallowing every drop of arousal dripping down his mouth. You gripped the headboard and rocked yourself back and forth while he continued to lap on your pussy without any care for the mess you made. You were wet and sloppy as his tongue moved in and out of you, up and down your folds while also sucking on your swollen clit.

"Oh my god," you moaned, looking down at where you could see the top of his face, his eyes closed as he groaned on your flesh, wrapping his arm around your thighs while never stopping stroking your wetness with his tongue. He held you tight, keeping you in place, and there was nothing else you could do but buck your hips as you ran your hands through his hair and tugged on the strands, receiving a deep, rough yet excited groan from him.

You exhaled his name, not being able to find the words or the breath in you to speak as you felt the familiar coil in your stomach. He flicked his tongue over your clit a few times before gathering up your juices and circling back to the swollen bud, massaging your flesh with the flat of his tongue. You felt the bliss swelling inside your body. You knew you wouldn't last much longer.

"I'm getting close," you warned him, beginning to grind your pussy against his mouth. He groaned against your flesh, sending vibrations through your body in return, and with a few more laps around your clit, you finally reached your high.

You felt the warmth from between your legs surge through your whole body. Your pussy walls tightened as you kept rocking your hips against him, whimpering, moaning, crying out that you were coming. You shivered and trembled above him, tossing your head back, gripping his hair even tighter, and pressing your thighs together around his head.

It took a moment for you to come down from your orgasm, and as you did, his motions slowed down, licking you gently, his hands soothing down your thighs. You finally lift your hips off his face, hovering above him on shaky thighs.

"You did so well," you cooed. You slowly shifted down his body, and when he thought you were about to straddle him again, you surprised him by moving lower.

“Let me give you your reward." You sighed while wrapping your fingers around the base of his cock in a firm grip. "You deserve it."

He felt so hot in your hand, so thick, so big, and utterly beautiful. You slowly moved your hand along his length, stroking him gently as you watched his lips parting open from the pleasure. You continued to stroke him, motions slow and steady, and he eventually closed his eyes, head falling back against the bed. You swiped your thumb across the tip, his eyes shot open as he looked at you.

"Keep your eyes on me."

He carefully propped himself on his elbows to get a better view just as you gripped him tighter while leaning close. The droplet of wetness on the tip looked too nice to be ignored so you leaned in and licked it up, your eyes meeting his gaze, and his jaw slacked open in pure pleasure. A pause settled in the room before you finally took him fully in your mouth, giving him an exploratory suck.

You kept swallowing him down, your jaw stretching wide as you struggled to get every inch of him inside your mouth, wrapping your hand around what was left. You hollowed your cheeks and greedily inhaled him. His smooth, warm length slid across your tongue and his cock hit the back of your throat.

Without warning his hips jerked up, and you gagged, rearing back off with a cough, eyes watering. "I'm s-sorry," he apologized.

"It's okay, baby, I'm giving you your reward," you whispered before holding his throbbing cock in your grip again. "Hold my hair up for me?"

He did exactly as he was told, gathering your hair in his hands. Your mouth enclosed around him again and you repeated the movement, trailing down his cock with your tongue, hands twisting back and forth, lips sliding back down until you had every inch of him in your mouth.

You glanced up at him, brow-raising mischievously as you moved your head in a rapid motion. He panted out a whine, his chest heaving as he inhaled a lung full of desperately needed air.

"Please..." he whimpered, bucking up ever so slightly. His cheeks burned at the sound of his own desperation. You gazed up at him, entranced by his sweat-slicked, heaving body, so pretty and needy. He blinked down at you, your cheeks flushed and lips stretched wide, an utterly obscene sight as you kept swallowing the entire length of him.

And then you felt him starting to shake,  his body trembling while the grip on your hair tightened at every stroke of your tongue. You could tell he was on the brink of exploding, yet you didn't want him to finish inside your mouth, so you pulled away just as quickly as you began.

You could tell he was about to whine a protest, but he immediately stopped himself as you climbed on his lap, gripping his cock in your hand and guiding it towards your aching pussy. But then you stopped, eyes meeting with his, your voice softening. "Should I use a condom?"

"You can..." he mumbled as if it was hard to even articulate any words when his tip was already brushing against your wetness. "You can do whatever you want."

You lingered for a moment, grinding yourself against the tip of him, getting wetter as your arousal dripped out. "I want to feel you."

The whimper he let out was loud, almost pornographic. "I want to feel you too."

Then you began to slide his cock into you, slowly, taking your time to draw the moment out. Your body went tense in an instant, you could hardly handle the way his size was pushing into you.

"Fuck, you're stretching me," you moaned the words, tossing your head back while closing your eyes. The content sigh leaving your lips was loud when his tip finally hit that soft spot. You had never felt this full before and you wanted to soak in the way he was filling you so deep, so you buried your face in the crook of his neck, inhaling his scent as you sit there with his cock stuffed inside of you.

For you, it felt nice, but for him, it was torture. As warm as you were, as tight as you clenched him, he still needed more. With urgency, he reached for your body before his eager hands landed on your hips, a groan of desperation built in his throat as you stayed there, not moving a muscle. "Can... can you move?"

You kissed a spot below his ear. "Why should I?"

"I-I..."

"Use your words, baby. Tell me what you want." Your tone was soft, but you didn't drop the entirety of your dominance. "Do you want me to ride you? Is that it? You want me to fuck you senseless?"

"Yes," he rasped out as if he had been holding his breath. "Please..." 

You gripped him by the throat. "Say it."

"Pl-please fuck me," he gasped, gulping for air.

You smiled.

"Good boy," you replied. You began moving against his cock, grinding yourself over his lap, feeling him fill you up and hit deep inside you. It was almost too much but you remained focused. Your palms pressed to his shoulders as you pushed yourself up, moving your hips against his body.

He could feel you squeezing him. Every roll of your hips, every flutter of your walls, and every moan that rumbled from your chest. His huge palms wandered over the small planes of your back, caressing every dip and roll of your body. His eyes glazed over to where you were connected, the sight of your pussy clenching around every inch of him lulled him into a bewitching trance.

Soon you found a somewhat steady rhythm, circling your hips and grinding down on him faster, picking up your pace. You felt your heart drumming against your ribcage and the concoction of arousal running down your thigh and dripping onto his legs.

"God, you're going to make me come so quick," you cried, your hand lowering between your thighs to reach your clit. With two fingers, you began to massage your flesh while bouncing down his cock, riding him, feeling the tip so deep within your walls. You let loose, moaning and whimpering. He couldn't help but groan, feeling your walls tighten around him, feeling your juices drip down his groin.

You felt him thrust upward towards you, following your pace, and a second orgasm started building low in your stomach. You felt it everywhere, from the tips of your fingers to the edge of your toes. It thrummed every nerve, vibrating you to the bone. "Fuck, I'm close."

His breath quickened as he felt your walls clenching him, his eyes brushing every inch of your body. You were such a sight to see. He was entranced by the way you were thrusting yourself on his cock, your breasts bouncing from the movement, your taut nipples begging for attention. He couldn't stop himself when he suddenly pulled you in, momentarily surprising you, and sucked onto your nipple hungrily.

You cried out when you felt his teeth softly tugging your nub. You were supposed to be in control, and you still wanted to keep your dominance, but it was hard to when he suddenly planted his feet on the bed and thrust his hips into you at a mind-numbing speed. Harshly. Roughly. Violently.

"Fucking hell, Spencer," you moaned, holding onto his shoulders. "I-I'm gonna—"

His fingers dug harshly into the tender skin of your sides, his hips were bucking up uncontrollably, desperate to reach the blissful relief. His tone became ragged as he groaned what sounded like your name entwined. He closed his eyes and threw his head back, suddenly overwhelmed by the feeling that began uncoiling in his entire body. You grabbed onto his unruly hair, tugging it back roughly before smearing open-mouthed kisses all over his throat and collarbones, voicing out your whimpers right into his ear.

That was enough for him—he came undone, allowing his muscles to contract one last time as he spilled into you, filling you completely with warmth with one last thrust. You followed him with a scream, wrenched from your throat so roughly it seared its way out of your lungs and into the air. Your movements became sloppy and uneven, clinging onto him as you chased your own high.

The room smelt of sex. It was your first thought when you finally felt your body relaxing, your mind coming back to its senses. Never, not even once in your life, have you ever considered kissing Spencer willingly.

Yes, he was handsome. Yes, he had the most amazing eyes, and yes, his soft demeanor did attract you the first time you met him, but that was it. He was simply your coworker, one you didn't know that well, one who seemed to make a big deal out of spending the night with you... and ironically, one who had you shaking in pleasure.

You weren't sure what would happen next. At first, you thought your presence ticked him off in the wrong way because you were the new, inexperienced member of the team... but now you couldn't help but speculate the way he acted differently towards you had something to do with what just happened.

Maybe he didn't think of you as a mere colleague... maybe he thought of you as someone potentially more? You could be right, or you could be wrong, and there was only one way to find out. You softly let your fingers brush his cheek.

"You need to take me out on a proper date," you suggested through the silence. Then a smile bloomed on your face when you felt him dip his head in your palm.

The nod he gave you couldn't be anymore faster.

[satoruhour]

悟

a/n:a repost from my old blog ♡ / contains one sex joke / 0.9k

“satoru, come to bed, it’s late,” yawning, you pat the space beside you. he’s doing his nightly skincare routine, patting his face gently with the retinol serum he just bought.

“ya sure you don’t want to try it out?” gojo offers out the dropper, a hairband cutely pushed up to prevent his bangs from interfering.

“i don’t like slimey stuff on my face.” and you cringe, realising your mistake too late.

“and yet you give me your face to cu—”

“shut the fuck up,” you severely miss him, pillow landing on the floor beside him. he didn’t even bother to activate his technique, laughing out loud at your failed attempt.

gojo never did switch it on when he was with you. not when he decided that he’d give his all to you, not even he asked you to move in with him on a desperate full of nightmares, not when you first said i love you.

gojo satoru was soft around you, a sight that many would like to see yet only disclosing it to you. the you who got him falling when you’d hang out with his students, giving as much pointers as you could on cursed energy. that was when he decided, he’s sure. but again, there were countless other times where gojo recalls falling deeper and deeper in love with you. he smiles at that, capping the skin care bottle before quite literally jumping onto the bed.

“argh... satoru, what the hell? you’re heavy!” his weight was crushing you, emphasised more when he leans down to plant kisses on your features. the feigned anger turns to giggling and shielding hands which he easily seizes between his fingers.

“s-stop! ’toru!” your smile is like the first few hues of dusk. it makes him feel all warm and mushy inside, something the strongest normally wouldn’t have the luxury of feeling. satoru says, fuck it, because even i deserve love, even i deserve to be held. he repeats those words you said to him the first time he broke down in front of you, and he does it all the time, now.

gojo is brought back to reality when you cup his cheeks gently, not minding the slimey stuff as you caress his skin. your hands accommodate his smile, cheeks filling up with how he’s grinning down at you and you feel dizzy with the immense love you have for him.

“you’re insanely beautiful, satoru,” you say it like it wouldn’t boost his ego, but you can’t care much when that much is true, noticing how much his hair resembles starlight and how his azure eyes catch the moonlight so perfectly.

gojo could say the same about you.

he sucks in a breath when he hears the compliment, the familiar cocky smirk and corny line lingering on his lips — he figured it’s just different when the words come from you.

“say it again.”

“hm? you’re beautiful, terribly b—” your mouth parts in surprise when the other lowers himself to your side, which prompts you to lie on your lone shoulder.

“no, my love, i meant my name.” gojo pulls you closer, lighting your skin with flames.

“oh! okay! uhm, sa— toru?” you giggle, the name falling weirdly from your lips now that you were demanded to say it. you try again, “satoru.”

your lover smiles, scooting closer, “again.”

“satoru.” the syllables leaving your lips makes him feel dizzy and giddy. while he enjoys being told his voice sounds like silk and syrup, he finds that it fits you better, bringing his face to rest only inches from yours.

“again.”

“satoru,” you whisper, a shy smile overtaking your lips. soon, they’re captured by gojo’s, moving tenderly against yours. you’re certain you see the sky painted in many different colours before your eyes close, the mere thought of gojo sending you reeling and cheeks flushing.

gojo’s kisses are slow tonight, savouring every part of your mouth before he slips his tongue in, entwining with yours as he continues to make you fall harder. it works. breathlessly, you smile into the kiss to hopefully get a bit of air, feeling the reply of a grin on your lips when his irises open up to look at yours.

“love you.” you murmur, ghosting along his lips before he smashes his lips against yours again, albeit clumsily that you two let out collective laughs.

people only ever call him gojo satoru, the strongest. he’s never found much identity, always a pawn for the higher-ups to play with, but when sa-to-ru falls from your lips? god, he can compare it to being caught in cupid’s arms. you give meaning to his name — satoru, satoru, satoru, you whisper, knowing that it meant enlighten, and he’s certain that’s all you do whenever you’re around.

you’re always lighting up his life, always loving him with no restraint.

“angel?” gojo whispers in between kisses. you respond sleepily, tracing incoherent patterns along his chest. the words are caught in his throat when you fingers go over the 悟 of his name, three syllables packaged into a single character. he didn’t expect you to remember, but it breathes some life back into him when you do it over his heart. he can��t remember the last time he let someone trace his name so intimately.

“your first name is beautiful, satoru, just like you,” you peck his lips. “now rest, you have a long day tomorrow.”

“i love you too,” the other replies a little late. his heart clenches up at the sight of you, caged and safe in his arms that he isn’t sure what to do with his hands. “i love you. i love you. i love you so much.”

with one last lingering kiss, you both succumb to slumber in peace, with gojo satoru’s first name in the palm of your hand, and his last name aching to take its place in front of your own.

[cutielando]

healing | r.c.

synopsis: in which Rafe learns how to navigate life with you after his father’s death

a/n: i am having terrible rafe cameron fever after watching the first half of obx4, so potentially rafe fics coming up after neglecting my man:(

my masterlist

Tick.

Tick.

Tick.

The loud clock on the wall in front of you was ticking loudly, each tick matching the rapid thumping of your stressed out heart.

Ever since Rafe left to sort out a business deal, ghosted you for 4 days before calling you and telling you he had been held hostage, you couldn’t seem to calm down.

Your hands were always sweating, your heart was threatening to beat out of your chest as you anxiously waited for a sign, any sign that he was coming home safe and sound.

And yet, the hours went by, and no such news ever came. You were going out of your mind, trying to occupy your time by shopping obsessively with Rafe’s card and cleaning the house for his imminent return.

It was hard on you, being kept in the dark about where Rafe was, if he was even safe or if he was going to come back home to you.

You didn’t know what to think, and the minutes upon minutes spent alone with your thoughts were not doing you any kind of favors.

On day 8 since he was gone, everything was going exactly as the previous day.

You woke up, spent a couple of minutes staring at the empty space next to you in the bed, wishing more than anything that you would close your eyes, open them up again only to see Rafe in front of you, his ocean blue eyes sparkling as he looked at you.

But nothing worked, so you settled for yet another day alone, praying for your boyfriend’s return.

You finally got out of bed, did the little amount of self-care that you cared enough to do in those moments, got dressed into a pair of shorts and one of Rafe’s t-shirts before reluctantly making your way downstairs to the kitchen.

Had it not been for your grumbling stomach, you probably would have spent the entire day in bed, staring at pictures of you and Rafe on your phone.

Everything in the house was quiet, only the faint sound of the TV playing up in Wheezie’s room making up for the deafening silence.

You were just in the middle of making pancakes, smiling lightly because they were Rafe’s favorites, when you heard footsteps coming to the kitchen from the front door.

You didn’t think anything of it, used to people always entering and leaving the house.

But there was something different this time, and you didn’t even realize you could feel it in your heart.

The atmosphere was tense, the hairs on the back of your neck standing up as if they knew just who had walked into the house.

“Hey, doll” the voice only confirmed what your body had already figured out, making you stop dead in your tracks.

You froze, your heart beating furiously as tears started welling up in your eyes. Slowly, you managed to gather enough strength in your body to turn around, your eyes immediately landing on the one man you had been so desperate to see.

Rafe Cameron.

In the flesh, right in front of you in the kitchen of his home.

“Please tell me you’re real and I’m not hallucinating” you whispered, the tears threatening to spill onto your cheeks, your palms almost shaking from the anticipation.

You had been waiting for this moment for an entire week, so eager to just see him with your own eyes, confirm that he was okay and nothing had happened to him.

It felt like you were dreaming, and you needed every single ounce of confirmation to say otherwise.

“It’s me, baby. It’s Rafe” he whispered, the emotions inside of him running just as high as yours.

You smiled through the tears and ran towards him, flinging yourself into his arms and almost knocking him off of his feet. He laughed in your ear, wrapping his arms tightly around your waist as he enjoyed the feeling of your body pressed against him, the feeling of finally being home to his best girl.

The feeling of finally being with you again.

Rafe had never before gone through so much shit in such a short period of time before. Being kidnapped, trying to find his dad only to learn that he had been killed in the jungle and somehow the Pogues were involved, not knowing if he was ever going to get the chance to see you again.

Not knowing if he was going to make it back home alive and not in a body bag.

All he could think about in those moments, all he could occupy his mind with was you. Getting home to you, feeling your calming presence around him, being able to just hold you and forget about everything else but the two of you.

The thought of coming home to you was the only thing that had kept him from losing every single ounce of hope and giving up on trying to get out of the trouble he had unintentionally found himself in.

“I can’t believe you’re actually here” you whispered into his neck, your voice breaking mid-sentence as you clung onto him like your life depended on it.

“I’m here, I’m home, baby” he shushed you, kissing everywhere that his lips could touch. 

He had missed being able to kiss you, to even touch you for an entire week, he wasn’t going to waste a single opportunity to have his hands or lips on you.

Neither of you knew how long you stood there, embracing each other like one of you was going to disappear into thin air if you let go. The only sound that could be heard in the empty kitchen was your shared breathing and the occasional whisper of reassurance from Rafe that he was really here, he was back.

Rafe didn’t even think about what had happened to him just days or hours before, he allowed himself to not think about his now deceased father and what that meant for his family. He didn’t think about anything else other than enjoying this moment with you, enjoying the peace of mind he got from simply your presence next to him.

He didn’t want to think about anything else but you and him.

But he knew he needed to face reality sooner or later, he knew he would have to tell you everything that had happened to him while he was away. He owed you that, given how worried sick you had been for him.

“Come on, let’s go upstairs and talk” he whispered at some point, making you nod but make no move to pull away from him.

He chuckled once he felt your arms only tighten around his neck, reaching down to help you jump and wrap your legs around his waist so he could carry you upstairs.

Slowly, but surely, the both of you found your way to his large bedroom, sitting down on his bed close to each other, your hands intertwined tightly.

You didn’t know what to expect when Rafe said he had to tell you everything that had happened to him, but you knew he needed to get everything off his chest. Nothing ever came of him keeping everything bottled up, so you knew it was important.

But you definitely didn’t expect the story that you had heard as soon as Rafe had started talking. Each sentence shocked you more and more to the core, until the last thing that came out of his mouth were the words “I found out my father died and the Pogues are somehow involved in it”. 

The shock that ran through your body, the way your blood ran cold and your eyes welled up with tears once again, it was something you didn’t think you could ever experience or feel.

The sight of Rafe struggling so hard not to break down, but ultimately cracking under the pressure and sobbing into your arms, it made your heart break into a million pieces at the sight of the broken boy in your arms, your boy who was suffering beyond comprehension.

“They killed him and left him for dead in a ditch. Sarah just left him there without ever looking back. Who does that to their own father?” his broken voice said, slightly muffled because he had buried his face into the hem of your T-shirt.

“I don’t know, baby. I don’t know” you whispered, your lips pressing kisses along his temple every now and then, the only thing you were focused on was making sure he would be okay.

You had to make sure of that.

The minutes ticked by slowly, but neither of you seemed to notice. Rafe had slowly started to calm down, his sobs now only reduced to sniffles every now and then, but he made no move to pull away from your comforting touch.

He had missed you so much, the way you seemed to understand exactly what he needed, you always knew exactly what he was feeling without even asking. He sometimes thought you knew him better than he knew himself, and it sometimes scared him.

“Are you feeling a bit better?” you asked, your voice soft as your hands continued rubbing soothing circled on the skin of his back and the back of his head.

He sighed, burying his face further into your chest, like a child begging for a mother’s love and warmth.

“Yeah, I just needed to get things off my chest” he said, making you smile sadly. 

“You can always talk to me, no matter what. About anything. I might not always know how to help, but I know how to listen” you said, making the both of you chuckle.

In that moment, even though neither of you knew what tomorrow’s day was gonna bring, you knew that you would face it together.

Just like always.

♡♡♡♡♡

18 months.

18 months have gone by since Ward had died, and since Rafe returned to you from Guadeloupe. 

18 months since Rafe had decided that he would do everything in his power to make sure his father would be proud of him. 

18 months in which he had been planning out his entire life with you, and 10 months since he had decided to make things official and propose to you. 

Rafe had decided that while he wanted to be like Ward in every aspect of his life and make him proud by becoming the man he had always wanted Rafe to become, he didn’t want to have a family like his.

He didn’t want a broken family, and he didn’t want to be a crappy husband or a dead-beat father for your kids. He wanted to be the man that you deserved to spend the rest of your life with, the man that would get to treat you like the princess that you truly were.

You had been there for him ever since he could remember, sticking with him when he knew you shouldn’t have, you believed in him when he didn’t even believe in himself. Every single time when he didn’t know what to do with himself, when he would feel like every hope for him was lost, you were there.

You were the light of his life, and he would never dream of having a life without you in it. He could never imagine being with someone else, letting another person know him on the level that you did. 

He could never live without you.

And you couldn’t live without him, either.

You hadn’t thought that your relationship with Rafe could get any better, but time seemed to want to prove you wrong. 

You couldn’t imagine your life being more perfect than it was with Rafe.

He was finally happy and free, at the top step of his company, making millions and millions of dollars, taking care of you and his family.

He was everything that you had ever dreamed of when you were a little girl. He was handsome, he was hot, he was sweet, attentive, loving, strong, independent, resilient. 

No words could ever describe the amount of love and pride you carried in your heart for Rafe. He had come such a long way from the troubled boy you once knew, having grown into the literal man of your dreams.

And yes, it maybe took his father passing away for him to finally wake up to reality and truly get his shit together, but you didn’t care.

Because you would always be with him, no matter what.

It was the two of you against the world.

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[pinkmirth]

i need more cowboi reiner tryna knock u up pls 🥺 👉 👈

⸻ STUFFED!

SYNOPSIS ౨ৎ ₊ ⊹ reiner just can’t seem to control how hungry he is for you. what better way to make you his than by stuffing you full of him?

CONTAINS ౨ৎ ₊ ⊹ ( 2.5k+ words of . . . ) cowboy!reiner x fem!reader (black coded), nsfw/smut, modern au, countryside setting, established relationship, reiner has a big fat breeding kink, sex flashbacks, doggie style, standing sex, creampie, use of pet names (ex. mama, sugar, honey), reader calls reiner ‘papa’, mentions of pregnancy, lowercase intended, explicit language, minors shoo!

MY LOVE NOTE! ౨ৎ ₊ ⊹ it’s undeniable that cowboy reiner’s got a raging breeding kink. thanks so much for sending in your thoughts, my love! now here’s rei-rei bein’ a shameless feen for his pretty girl! 🎀

reiner’s terribly distracted.

the last thing he wants to do is lay blame, but in a way, you’re the reason why. the mere thought of you is enough to make this cowboy go buckwild. rei-rei swears he usually has more self control, it’s just that you strip him of all common sense.

you, pretty little you, make him all scatterbrained. his head’s been filled with nothing but romantics and vulgarities ever since he took you on a date seven months ago. you’ve turned him into some fool in love, for goodness’ sake.

memories of last night’s escapades come to mind. his mouth practically waters when remembering your plush ass; how you tossed it onto his pelvis with an arching back and swaying tits, peering at him with the sultriest smile, not to mention those glimmering bedroom eyes of yours. he recalls having to hold you still, so you wouldn’t be able to squirm away if his pounding were to become too much. you were soft, he remembers, so soft. the flesh of your hips would squish beneath the imposing pressure of his callous fingers, digging tighter into your sides whenever you’d flutter around the girth of him. he remembers the way he came inside with a rumbly moan, leaving your pussy full and the sheets wet . . . he wants to do it all over again.

with all that’s going on in that perverse little mind of his, he can hardly bring himself to focus on feeding the cattle. the only thing that can solve his problem is its source; you. and just like that, reiner’s dropping whatever he’d been doing before. his chores can surely wait, but this surge of desire can’t be overlooked. not a thing matters as much as finding you, fucking you, filling you.

he rounds the barn, passes by the apple trees and the horse stables in search of you. his cock pulses with every step, prodding stubbornly against the soft cotton of his boxers, now smeared with sticky precum. reiner brings a hand down to provide himself some relief, palming his boner with a low grunt. he’s so fucking hard that it almost hurts. that’s what he gets for fantasizing about you for the past thirty minutes and doing nothing about it until now.

with heavy steps, reiner makes his entrance into the farmhouse and is met by the sight of you lounging in the living room. you’re seated on the floral-print recliner with your pedicured toes propped up, all nice and comfortable. you’re wearing the dainty string of pearls he bought you for your birthday earlier in the year. pride flushes throughout his chest when seeing how prettily it rests on your collarbone.

you greet your man with a glossy smile, one that makes his dick throb beneath his hay-specked coveralls. reiner wonders if you’ve taken note of just how red he looks, rosy heat scattered across his face, from the highs of his cheekbones to the tips of his ears. he can feel his skin blazing with complete and total need.

reiner elicits a weak mumble of ‘hey, sugar. . .’, a stark contrast to your tone being all light and cheery as you ramble on about the cute little mini-skirt you’re crocheting for yourself. ‘since the weather’s getting warmer,’ you chime.

reiner loves you. he really, truly does, but he simply isn’t in the headspace to pay mind to the mundane task you’re occupied with at the moment— not when he’s this close to tearing off your summer dress, bending you over, peeling himself out of his spurred boots and pumping you full of every drop of cum he has to offer. fuck, he’s breathing harder now. gradually, he feels his resolve slip.

“you alright, honey?” you set down your crocheting hook, staring up at him with big, curious eyes. your voice, soft and consoling, grounds him just a little. reiner pulls off his signature cowboy hat, sets it on the nearby coffee table, and ruffles his hair so it falls into place. “yeah, i’m just—“ a pause amidst his sigh. truthfully, he’s here because he wants to fuck you pregnant. “i wanted t’see you, is all.” he settles on saying that instead. it’s much sweeter, all the more more romantic. less fetish-y. you probably would’ve looked at him funny if he admitted to crossing the entire farm by foot just so he could fill you up.

“aw, rei! you were missin’ me?” you laugh out of flattery. oh, your reiner. he’s so sweet in his own right. your boyfriend wants to ‘see you’, as he claims, like he hadn’t woken you up with nibbles to your neck, taken a (somewhat long, fairly busy) shower with you this morning, and ate breakfast alongside you before heading off to tend to the farm. you assume he can’t help but cling to you and want more.

it’s sudden, but welcomed, how reiner closes in on you. he draws near like a magnet, until the space between you no longer exists. he’s crouching down to the level of the chair, hovering over you to press a kiss on your lips. “mhm. missed you so bad, mama,” he mumbles against your mouth. in reply, you whisper onto his lips, something about how he’s always ‘so eager.’ he leans into you, desperate for more, and the chair creaks underneath the addition of his weight. he’s a large man, anyone can tell. his brawny build and imposing height never fail to make you feel safe underneath him. 

reiner dips his head low and plants one, two, three sloppy kisses along your warm neck, and it gets you hotter than the southern heat. he leaves saliva in his wake, trailed by the lightest of bruises from his suctioning lips. he tries to undo your clothes and his, but the small space that this decade-old chair provides won’t allow for it. besides, it wouldn’t be wise of him to make you squirt on a family heirloom. “this won’t do,” he clicks his teeth, decidingly picking you up. your legs wrap around his torso like second nature, arms circled around the back of his muscular neck.

“reiii, baby wait!” you draw out the call of his name, but all it does is coax him further. can’t you tell that your voice is only making him harder? that your whines urge him to fuck you silly? 

“wait?” he reiterates, grinding up into your clothed core. you shudder upon contact. “what for?” from beneath the denim he wears, you can feel his stiffness poke against your flimsy panties. “don’t you wanna head to bed first, honey? hm?” you whine into his neck. it takes a good eight seconds for him to respond.

“uh-uh,” reiner gives you a half-hearted grunt, with his gaze fixed on your cleavage that the low neckline of your dress presents to him. obviously, he’s interested in other things. “here’s just fine, sugar.” he’s strong enough to fuck you standing up with nothing else supporting him, and you know that. he doesn’t need a goddamn mattress.

reiner’s large hands grab at your underside, using your ass as the perfect leverage to press you close to him. this is your third time fucking this week, and it’s only tuesday. you’d mention it, but he’s too busy kissing down the valley of your breasts. impatience seeps through his every movement, from how he grasps at your thighs to keep you upright, to eagerly feeling along your lower half like it’s his first time touching your body.

“slow down, rei.” begrudgingly, reiner removes his lips from your chest. he finally calms for just a moment, so that he can meet your beautiful eyes. your face has been overtaken by a subtle pout. “m’sorry, honey,” he murmurs between a deep kiss, all wet and tongue-filled. you assume that’s supposed to be his form of an apology. his toned arm re-fastens itself around your body, holding you tight, while the other bunches up your dress and pushes down his bottoms, “but i need you. so fuckin’ bad.” you could never deny him and that sweet southern drawl. he knows that his smooth mouth works magic on you— he always gets what he wants from his pretty girl. 

now freed of any confines, reiner lowers his hand to stroke at the base of his dick, tugging himself with a low hiss. involuntarily, his hips buck. “you can finish up that skirt later, hm?” he releases himself and appoints his attention to you, the pads of his fingers circling your clit in just the way you like. your head falls forward onto his broad shoulder. “hell, i’ll even buy you some o’those frilly ones at that fancy mall you like goin’ to . . .” he utters partially to you and a little to himself, still occupied with keeping pressure on your bud. by now, with your head thrown back, you’ve already forgotten what you were working on in the first place.

having done this countless times before, reiner’s quickly able to find your dripping entrance. the drag of his tip through your puffy folds causes a ‘shlck’ sound to elicit. reiner smiles to himself; you’re embarrassingly wet. your hips begin to swivel and writhe, that’s how he knows you’re getting as needy as he. choosing not to waste any more time, he pushes himself inside with one swift motion. you cry out from the stretch, already fluttering around the first few inches he gives you. so far, it's just the tip and some, but he's so wide.

“goddamnit, baby . . . i fuckin’ love this pussy,” reiner grunts through clenched teeth. he’d usually start off with a shallow thrust and ease you into it, but he isn’t feeling as patient. every thrust is fast-paced, almost rushed. the impact has you bouncing in his arms, all as he continues his unrelenting efforts.

“s’good, rei— so good,” wavering moans spill past your lips. he hisses when your manicured nails dig into the hot flesh of his firm, round biceps. you squeeze around him until his eyes go rolling back. “i know, mama. i know,” reiner whines and groans, because it’s all he can manage to do. if he was air-headed about you earlier, surely he’s braindead now. he pumps into you rapidly, restlessly, but he still finds a way to make it feel so thorough. that’s probably because he’s fucking huge; incredibly endowed, like every other big and buff part of him. with a cock this thick, how could he not strike every nerve and hit every spot? 

he rolls his hips up into you with breathtaking fervor, fucks into you until he’s balls deep within your pulsating cunt. sweat dripping down his furrowed brow, he rasps out, “can’t wait to fill you up,” sloppy kisses follow, and his tongue slides across yours as he mumbles on about cumming inside, stuffing you full, making you his. you finally know what he’s doing, you should’ve known all along— he’s going to pump his cum into you as deep as he can get it to go. thrust his seed into your pliant womb until he’s fucked a baby into you. 

the mere thought of makin’ you a mama has his head spinning. reiner’s breath catches in his throat, and your sounds heighten in pitch— the pair of you can tell that you’re bound to reach ecstasy. he squats a bit lower, goes a little faster, attempting to propel you both into your orgasms. it’s coming on like an impending wave; your belly tightens, toes curling from where your heels dig into reiner’s strong back.

he knows you’ve come undone once your smooth, ridge-like walls begin to spasm around him, to the point where he can hardly pull back or push in further. he likes to think that it’s your pretty pussy’s way of begging for his cum. still, he doesn’t let up, not until you’re thoroughly impregnated. “jus’ a lil more. hold on ‘fa me, honey, m’kay?” he pleads through throaty whimpers. weakly, you nod. the overstim makes you pant and mewl, biting onto the damp skin of his exposed jugular to try and quiet yourself.

reiner slams you down onto him, the veins in his forearms bulging as he desperately grasps onto the globes of your ass. the resounding slap of skin rings around his tingling ears, lewd sounds floating throughout the otherwise quiet farmhouse.

“g’na let papa fill you up? yeah?” you cry out a weak ‘mhm!’ along with other pleas of how much you want it; want him. his balls twitch and his abdomen goes tense. “m'close,” he gruffly whispers. you decide to spur him on: “g-gimme your babies, papa, i need it!” that’s all he needs to topple over the edge. “oh fuck, mama— m’gonnacum,” reiner’s words jumble together when he comes, coating your insides with warm globs of white. though his thighs never cease their trembling, he still maintains a steady hold on you, keeping your limp frame upright. 

reiner stays inside as a means of keeping all his seed plugged into you, just for good measure. he doubts that he’s got enough energy remaining to round up the cattle after this. his chest heaves slowly, and his hair’s a mess from all that pulling you were doing, but he’s more than satisfied. he's even got this dumb, blissed-out smile on his face to show his content. you're sure he's knocked you up thoroughly by now.

he’ll make sure to buy you a pregnancy test by next morning. 

[roosterforme]

Yours Truly, Bradley Bradshaw Part 9 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: Bradley never felt like this before in his life. As soon as he spent a few minutes in your presence, he needed to keep coming back for more. Your touch and your voice were already making this homecoming something he was hoping to repeat, and he decided to keep pressing his luck.

Warnings: Fluff, angst, language, Bradley getting handsy

Length: 4100 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female teacher!Reader

Check out my masterlist for more! Yours Truly, Bradley Bradshaw masterlist

Bradley promised he would pick you up in an hour. That gave you essentially no time to get yourself ready to go out. At least you didn't have those typical first date jitters, because you and he had already taken the time to slowly get to know each other over the past few months. All of the emails from him that you'd archived into their own folder in your inbox felt precious now that he was home. Now that he surprised you at work. Knowing what he felt like and seeing the way he moved in person seemed to be the only missing pieces, and now everything fit perfectly in your mind when it came to Bradley Bradshaw. 

While you weren't nervous about getting to know someone new, you were a little antsy about trying to make yourself look as nice as you could in an hour. After you'd worked all day. For your first date with a man you already couldn't get enough of. He reminded you that he wanted to take you to the beach, as if you could forget the splendid details he'd divulged over the phone a month ago.

He told you he was going to wear jeans, nothing fancy, but when you looked in your closet, everything seemed tragically terrible. You could practically feel time ticking away as you yanked a simple sundress from its hanger and pulled it on over your cute underwear set. Not that he was going to see that tonight, but it made you feel good regardless. It also made your skin feel flushed as you thought about the photo you'd sent him where you'd gone topless under your bedding, and you squeaked when you heard knocking on your door. 

When you pulled it open, he was there, like a dream. Earlier in your classroom, when he interacted with your students, it felt like you had imagined the whole thing. But nothing felt as real as the warmth in his voice when he softly said, "Hey, Gorgeous," as he filled your doorway with his broad shoulders.

"Hi, Handsome," you replied, even as he leaned in closer until your lips were met with a kiss as sweet as the ones he treated you to earlier. He seemed to be taking your desire to be kissed as soon as he saw you to heart. Either that or he just couldn't help himself, and you were more than okay with either scenario. 

Your fingers ghosted along the buttons of the loud tropical print shirt he was wearing. The fabric was soft as he deepened the kiss enough to let you feel his rough mustache against your skin before pulling away. All of the teasing kisses from a few hours ago made you want to pull him inside toward your couch, but he was already reaching for your hand.

He looked a little tired, and once again you got butterflies knowing he wanted to spend his first evening home from a very long deployment with you. As he smiled and wrapped his big hand around yours, he asked, "You ready for me to show you why deleting that dating app was the best decision you'll make all year?"

Your lips parted in soft surprise at his confidence and his little smirk. Granted, so far, he had no reason to behave otherwise. You let him guide you outside, and you locked your door as you said, "I thought getting my students to send mail to a deployed Naval aviator was my best decision?"

He hummed softly. "Seems as though you can do no wrong."

It was like floating on a cloud, having his attention and gaze fixed on you. How in the world this man wasn't already locked down was mystifying. As his rough thumb trailed back and forth across your knuckles, the butterflies started up again in a big way. It was actually happening. The first date that you'd been daydreaming about on repeat was here. He was following through with it, and now you were expected to act normal.

When he unlocked the door and helped you climb up into his insanely cool truck, he said, "It looks like you can't stop smiling, which is great, because it's a beautiful smile."

You laughed softly and covered your eyes before groaning softly. "I'm just still kind of in shock." You peeked at him from between your fingers. "When I woke up this morning, I was convinced something terrible had happened to you... or that you ghosted me."

Bradley looked truly concerned as he coaxed your hands away from your face and said, "Baby, you thought I ghosted you?"

You gave him a little shrug and said, "The thought crossed my mind. I know you said sometimes they shut off communication from the aircraft carrier when-"

He silenced you with his lips on yours, cupping your cheek with his big hand before breaking away to say, "I've been thinking about you since I unfolded the first letter you sent. And I've been thinking about today since you gave me your personal email address. I'm not going anywhere, and I'm definitely not going to ghost you, Gorgeous." Just as you felt embarrassed for having admitted that much to him, he kissed you again and said, "I want to get you Thai food and take you to the beach. It only took me thirty-seven minutes to get here in traffic, and it should be even shorter now. Since we're going to be doing this drive with frequency, I want to learn the best times for it."

You made a soft sound as his thumb continued to stroke your cheek, and you nodded as you said, "Let's do it."

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

Bradley laced his fingers with yours as he drove down along the coast back to Coronado. The time it took to get to your place was really no big deal to him, but he didn't want it to seem insurmountable to you. Traffic in San Diego could be a nightmare at times, especially in the evening, and he didn't want you to think he wasn't more than willing to do this. Especially after you thought he may have ghosted you. And especially since he was planning on asking you to be his girlfriend. 

You and your students got him through his deployment in a way nothing else ever quite had before. Your letters and emails were informative, funny and thoughtful, and you had this addictively subtle way of always letting him know he was on your mind. After months with Vanessa, all he got was a bad attitude, a partner who clearly wasn't invested, and an email about a water bottle. 

You were singing along to a song he happened to love when he chuckled to himself as he changed lanes. "What's so funny?" you asked, giving his hand a little squeeze. "My singing voice isn't that bad."

"Your singing voice isn't even slightly bad," he replied easily, glancing at your face in profile as you smiled. "I was just thinking about my ex-girlfriend."

"Oh," you said as your smile vanished, and your hold on his hand loosened. 

"Shit," he grunted. "Not like that," he promised, tugging on you gently while trying to focus on the road. "You and I had exchanged more emails halfway through my deployment than Vanessa and I did in seven months. And I'm hoping you'll keep emailing with me on occasion, even though we can text and talk on the phone right now, too. I associate my inbox with you now."

"Vanessa?" you asked, avoiding the rest of his statement. "Isn't that the name of Jayden's dog?"

Bradley nodded. "It sure is," he replied with a laugh. "One of the reasons I always liked his notes the best."

You were looking out your window now as the pretty coastline started to give way to a view of North Island across the bay. "I'll keep emailing you. How could I not? Texts and phone calls would be a bonus."

"I told you, you're going to get sick of me soon, Gorgeous. That's how many of my texts and phone calls you're about to be on the receiving end of." Bradley kissed your fingers as he turned to cross the bridge that led to Coronado, and he murmured, "Start thinking about what you want to eat for dinner. We're almost there."

He would erase all doubts about him from your mind. Your hand already felt like it belonged in his as you and he walked into the takeout restaurant while you listed off some of your Thai favorites. The two of you seemed to translate well from interacting through screens to physically being together, and the fact that he already wanted to put a label on this was a bit surprising to him. But there was still a lot he wanted to ask you about and tell you first, which was proving difficult when you looked up at him with bright eyes as a beautiful smile. He practically blurted out the world girlfriend as you told him you couldn't decide what you wanted to eat.

"What are you getting?" you asked. "I'm torn between Pad Thai, Yellow Curry and Tom Yum Goong."

"Let's get all three," he replied before kissing you. 

When he pulled away, your eyes were still closed as you asked, "All three? I can only finish one."

"Yeah, we can share them," he whispered, kissing you softly again. "My appetite is huge." When the person who was working at the counter had to clear their throat to keep Bradley from pulling you closer to his body like he had earlier in your classroom, he begrudgingly ordered not three, but four entrees while you laughed. 

"You weren't kidding," you mused as he paid for dinner.

"Listen," he told you as he put his credit card away. "There are three things I'm never going to joke about. Food is the first one. My mom always made me clean my plate, and I never outgrew that. If I'm willing to eat two servings of dinner from an aircraft carrier mess hall, then I'm probably going to eat at least that much if it's food that actually tastes good. And second, if I say there's a spider and that I need you to come quick, there is absolutely a spider that I need you to take care of for me." You laughed and bit your lip as he said, "And third, I'm never going to joke about how attracted I am to everything about you."

Bradley tried his best not to cause a scene in the small restaurant, but when you ran your fingers along the scars on his face and up into his hair, his hands found their way to your hips, and your body was snug against his. He didn't say another word, and you didn't either. Neither of you moved any closer for a kiss. You just brushed your fingers gently through his hair, occasionally tugging a little bit, and he thought he could lose his mind this way. With you smiling softly at him, silently and unknowingly showing him that your touch was uniquely something he'd been craving for so long.

"I'll take care of the spiders for you. Don't worry," you told him as you grinned.

"Baby, that's like dirty talk," he replied, his words making him think of that one photo you sent to him of you in bed. You dipped your head, trying to hide from him as you laughed, and he leaned in to kiss your jaw just as his name was called. "You ready for dinner?" he mumbled, knowing he was about five minutes away from his stomach growling loudly even though standing here with you was one of the nicest feelings in his recent memory.

"Let's get you fed," you told him, patting his firm stomach and accidentally snagging one of his belt loops with your finger. He had to bite the inside of his cheek against the growing need he felt for you as you reached out to grab the bag of food, and he followed you back out to his Bronco like a lost puppy.

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

After some debate about where you wanted to sit since the wind was starting to pick up, you chose a blanket on the sand over the back of his Bronco. You honestly weren't sure Bradley could even fit back there comfortably with you. He was so tall and broad, and his legs were so long, you'd practically have to be on top of him so he'd have room. Your mind wandered to the idea of him spilling off of his couch while you snuggled with him, and you could feel the warmth rising in your face as he helped you down onto the sandy asphalt of the parking lot.

With your hand in his, Bradley led you around to the back door where he pulled out a picnic blanket and a cooler. The wind picked up and you shivered a bit, wondering if he would let you curl up against his warm chest and his tropical shirt. 

"I brought this just in case," he told you, turning to reach back inside and grab a well worn, gray sweatshirt that said TOP GUN across the front. He held it up, and you nodded, and then Bradley pulled it over your head for you, his fingers skimming down your sides as you pushed your arms through the sleeves.

"Thanks," you murmured as the oversized garment kind of swallowed you up. It was so soft over your sundress, you couldn't imagine ever wanting to take it off. And the look Bradley was giving you as you stood before him in it warmed you up as much as the shirt itself.

"I like the way that looks," he said, voice a little raspy as the wind pushed at his wavy hair.

"Bradley."

He shook his head, brown eyes fixed on you. "And I like the way that sounds."

You didn't need to eat anything. You could be sustained on making out in the backseat. You thought about telling him as much when he groaned softly, handed you the beach blanket and picked up everything else. "If we don't get settled, we'll miss the sunset, and the food will be cold."

He pressed one hot and heavy kiss to your lips before nudging the door shut with his hip, and you scampered after his long-legged gait to catch up with him. When he asked you to pick a spot for the blanket, you spread it out near some tall dune grass, away from some of the other couples who seemed to have been lured out by the promise of a pretty sunset. And just as you predicted, Bradley sprawled himself out and took up most of the space, leaving you sitting right at his side.

You helped him open up the containers of food and the disposable utensils, and then you watched him reach into the cooler and hold up a bottle of Prosecco and a bottle of a local craft beer. You pointed to the Prosecco, and he opened it for you as you said, "I know you told me you don't have much family, but you mentioned your mom? And how she always made you clean your plate?" You couldn't help but be curious, especially since you'd already told him a bit about your own family through email.

"Yeah," he replied evenly as you took a sip of Prosecco right from the bottle when he didn't hand you a cup. It was sweet and cold, but you almost choked on it when he said, "She died years ago. So did my old man. He was in the Navy, too."

"Bradley," you gasped, sloshing some of the wine onto your fingers as you tried not to drop the bottle. "I'm so sorry." He just shrugged and waved you off, but you ended up with your arms around his neck and the cold bottle pressed to his back as you whispered, "Is that why you didn't really have anyone writing to you other than me and my class?"

His big hand found your lower back through the sweatshirt. "Baby, the only other person who ever writes to me is my best friend, and even that is pretty sporadic."

You pulled away a little bit to meet his eyes as you asked, "What about Vanessa? The human, not the dog."

Bradley laughed and said, "The dog would make a better pen pal than the human. Probably be nicer to me, too."

You were completely taken aback. "What's that supposed to mean?"

He kissed your cheek before getting you settled at his side again, and you watched him scoop some noodles onto his fork. "Means she's not like you. And I'm going to try my best to prove that I'm not like your ex boyfriend who didn't like it when you talked about your job. Shouldn't be hard since I already think your kids are so cool, and I probably read at about a fourth grade level."

"Bradley," you balked as you laughed that he remembered what you told him about your ex, but he was already holding the food out to you.

"Try this and tell me what you think." You took the fork from his hand, tasted the dinner and moaned in appreciation. "It's pretty great, right?"

"Oh my goodness," you told him, digging the fork into the container for more. "It's even better than the place by my school."

You tried the curry next as the sun just about hit the horizon, and Bradley casually said, "We can do this all the time. Or I can surprise you with dinner after work."

"It's not a surprise if you tell me that," you told him before taking another sip of the wine.

"You don't like surprises," he said with a smile, and you realized for the second time tonight that he probably remembered everything you ever told him. The butterflies were back in full force as you and he chatted while you shared the meal. It wasn't like a first date at all. It was like some highly romantic reunion where he kissed you with a bit more frequency as the food containers ended up empty and the sky turned purple.

He was so warm as you snuggled up against his chest with your head on his shoulder. As the first few stars appeared in the clear sky, his big hand came to rest on your thigh, his fingers dipping inside the hem of your dress as the breeze made you cuddle even closer to him. "Was your last mission dangerous?" you asked, remembering how apprehensive he looked and sounded over the FaceTime call.

When he didn't respond right away, you thought perhaps he didn't hear you, but he squeezed your thigh and cleared his throat. "All of them are, Gorgeous."

Your heart clenched. You had him here with you after months of wishing and dreaming. You didn't want to seem pushy by asking, but you couldn't help yourself. "I never thought about what it would be like to... be with someone who deploys for work. Not until we started talking. But now I think about it a lot." His soft grunt next to your ear had you quickly asking, "Is that what it would be like? Always worrying if you're okay? Always wondering if you miss me as much as I miss you?"

He took your breath away as he kissed you, parting your lips with his and tasting your tongue. His lips were sweet from the wine, and his nose bumped yours as his big hand slid around to the back of your thigh. All you could do was hold onto him as he treated you to kiss after toe-curling kiss. You shamelessly moaned his name when he finally let you take a breath, but then he was right back on you. Your fingernails scraped softly along his faded scars before digging into his hair, and he broke the kiss and held you to him.

"You would never have to worry about the last bit. I would make sure of that. But yeah, Baby, the rest of it would kind of suck."

The only thing you could say was, "Bradley," as his eyes searched your face in the darkening evening light.

"I would have been miserable," he whispered. "If you never sent that first package, I would have had nothing to look forward to each day and nothing I was excited to come back to San Diego for." His voice was impossibly deep and alluring as he said, "I thought about that a lot. What if you never sent it? Or what if someone else got it instead of me? What if I didn't somehow manage to earn your attention? I don't like thinking about that. And I don't like the idea of you worrying about me even though, at the same time, it feels really fucking good knowing that you would."

You were melting. You were going to turn into a puddle for this man. This lonely man who had an ex who hadn't been nice to him and never emailed him enough. This man who cleared his calendar today to bring you flowers and visit your kids as soon as he got off of the aircraft carrier. You wanted to say so much as you pushed gently on his shoulders, and Bradley slowly leaned back until he was laying flat with you on top of him.

"Gorgeous," he crooned in the moonlight with the sound of the ocean behind you and his big hands on your thighs. 

You pushed his hair back from his forehead and whispered, "You just got back today, and you gave all of your time to me."

His cheek was warm and rough with some stubble as your lips found his scars. You kissed them just like you told him you wanted to as he said, "It was just me being selfish. I wanted to be around you so badly. I'm already dying for more. Please go out with me again tomorrow?"

It took you all of a split second to agree. And maybe you were being selfish too, but you weren't prepared for the way your heart was racing in time with the butterflies. And how warm his big hands were as they inched up your legs while you tasted his tongue. And how much you knew you were going to want him to stay when it was time to say goodnight.

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

Your hands were all over his face and shoulders and in his hair, and Bradley was nothing short of delighted by this. Your lips drifted from his mouth down to his chin, and he had to try very hard to focus as they grazed his Adam's apple. He had your apartment keys in his hand, with which he was also squeezing your hip though his sweatshirt. It felt serendipitous that he was the one who got your letters, especially since he went from halfway in love with you to most of the way there after one day in your presence.

"Baby, you need to go inside," he warned, but something in his tone of voice just had you clinging tighter to him. "I need you to go inside."

You broke free from where your lips ended up on the side of his neck, and you whined. "I know, Bradley."

"God," he rasped, releasing you completely and taking a step back. "Say it one more time."

You unlocked your door, turned to look at him over your shoulder, and your kiss-swollen lips curled into one of those simply gorgeous smiles that earned you your nickname. "Bradley."

It sounded so fucking good. "I'll see you tomorrow," he whispered. "Lock the door behind you."

You did as you were told with one more little smile just for him, and then he was left standing there alone, trying to catch his breath while he got his phone out and worked on taking date number two from daydream to reality.

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

Why is he like this? They are going to get even more handsy on their second date, and I can't handle it. And he can't even go more than a day without seeing her? He needs to be locked away. Thanks for reading! And thanks @beyondthesefourwalls

PART 10

@hotch-meeeeeuppppp

@chassy21

@solacestyles

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@bcon24

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@furiousladyking

[charliemwrites]

Part 4 of Mafia!Price

No Content Warnings

There are many things to appreciate about your boss, but one of them is his respect for routine. You’ve gotten him on a schedule and now he seems happily beholden to it; appreciates your promptness with tea and pastries and morning “briefings” each day.

He’ll happily sit back in his big leather chair and listen to you chatter out his itinerary for the day. Meetings, reports, phone calls. Trips to the dock, now, bless him.

You try not to stare between glances at your tablet. For a rich bastard, he is unfairly handsome. Good taste in just about everything, classy and luxurious without being ostentatious. Old money vibes, for sure, though you know better than to do more than idly wonder. Helps that he’s also remarkably gentlemanly with you. You’re not one to buy into old stereotypes or gender roles, even the ones that benefit you — but you’ll take a chivalrous boss over your old one any day.

Besides, it’s not like he’s spouting off about what women should and shouldn’t be doing. Or trying to use you as an example of an “acceptable” working woman. So, yeah, you’ll indulge in the door-holding and offered arms.

“Alright, best for last — your reservation for Muse is tomorrow. The restaurant is twenty minutes from your penthouse, so Simon will be downstairs by 7:30.”

You check that off your to-do list as you continue speaking.

“Do you have a suit picked out yet, or should I order something? Green is in season and it would go nicely with your eyes.”

He hums; you glance up. Leaning back, one arm lax on the arm of his chair, black watch gleaming. The other is propped to press his index finger against his lips. Like he’s telling you to keep a secret. The corners of his mouth are tilted up.

Your tablet dings and thankfully distracts you from staring.

Oh, for the love of— the only person more inconsiderate than Philip Graves is his damn assistant.

“Is that the color you’re wearing, then?”

Will need to call later today — as if!

“Hm?” You ask, not having caught it.

He arches his eyebrows; ah, you must have been making a face again.

“Are you wearing green tomorrow?” He repeats.

You blink. Are you what?

“Tomorrow, sir?”

He nods, once. “To Muse, luv.”

When you continue to stare with pleasant obliviousness, his eyebrows furrow a bit.

“You do know one of those seats is for you, yeah?”

You press your lips together for a moment. Well… shit. You take it back. You take it all back. John Price is a terrible, horrible, awful man who is so rude.

“I do now.”

Across the office, you make wide eye contact with Gaz. He grimaces in sympathy and ducks his head, though it’s clearly just to hide his traitorous laughter.

“Of course you’re coming along.”

“Sir,” you say, pleasant and sweet, “remember when I first started here? And I told you that I’m not a mind reader?”

“Of course,” he answers. “You threatened to spit in my tea in the same breath.”

“Only if you told me to fetch it for you,” you correct, before continuing, “I feel you may need a reminder: I cannot read your mind. How was I supposed to know you wanted me to go with you?”

“‘S your job, isnit?” He replies. You give him a dark look; he puts his hands up with a chuckle. “My apologies love, I thought you’d be in my pocket next to my handkerchief. Like always.”

You set your hand on your hip, proper cross now.

“It’s outside usual working hours, sir. How could I have possible expected to be invited to your fancy man party?”

“‘Fancy man party’?”

“Well, there’s nothing for it, I’ll have to leave early tomorrow.”

You’re already tapping madly at your tablet, looking up a salon willing to do your hair and makeup. God knows what kind of meltdown you’ll have if you can’t get your eyeliner symmetrical.

“Do whatever you need to do, luv,” Price soothes, standing. “I really am sorry for the short notice.”

You wave him off, then pat his arm as he gently guides you towards the door. Absently, you comply, more focused on getting appointments set and rearranging your own schedule for tomorrow.

“I’ll make it work,” you promise, “I always do.”

You let him bring you all the way to your desk, lower yourself into your ergonomic rolling chair.

“I’ll let you know what color I’m wearing by… one o’clock. Yes?”

“Sounds great, luv.”

You glance at the clock. “Also you have a call with the KorTac Group in ten.”

He chuckles and taps your chin. “Cheers, luv.”

—

Simon is the one to pick you up Friday evening. You both pause in the lobby of your apartment complex, staring.

“You look lovely,” he says at the same time you ask, aghast, “what happened to your face?”

He’s got a dark bruises discoloring the skin around one eye. Clearly some ice has already been applied because the swelling is down, but it must be fresh because he didn’t have it yesterday.

He snorts. “My job happened.”

You tut. “I’ve got something for that but we need to get moving. Mr. Price said he needs some help with his suit.”

You grab his arm without hesitation, habit from any of your escorts or drivers always offering it to you. Usually you accept out of politeness, but tonight you could use the extra stability in your heels. Simon doesn’t seem to mind even though this is the first time you’ve done this.

He walks you to the car, holds the door for you. Sleek and spotless, a black Jaguar — your choice for the evening. You hum in delight at the warm interior as Simon slides into the front seat.

“Oh, thank you for the compliment, by the way,” you add as he pulls into traffic. “You look quite smart as well.”

He grunts, but you notice a bit of color to his ears in the passing streetlights. You smile to yourself and busy yourself with your tablet. Double checking the reservation confirmation, answering messages from Farah and Gaz, updating Price on your ETA.

The car stops at a luxury high rise just at 7. You hop out before Simon can get the door and receive a sharp look. He holds up a reprimanding finger; blink in surprise at the sternness of it.

“You pull that shite again and I’ll handcuff you to the door handle, miss.” He warns. “Making me look bad.”

You huff, amused, and take his arm again. “Don’t threaten me, Mr. Riley, I’m meaner.”

But you squeeze his thick bicep good-naturedly as he leads you into Price’s building. Your boss lives in the penthouse at the very top; Simon has to swipe a card for access. He’s also got a key to let you both in the door, holds it so you can enter first.

It’s all sleek and modern; not at all what you would expect of your boss’s more classical style. His office has a sort of 20s Hollywood vibe (gangster, you teased once) but clearly some interior designer was paid far too much for something out of a drab minimalist catalogue.

You don’t linger long, heels clicking on the polished floors.

“Sir?” you call.

“In here, luv.”

You grimace at the flight of stairs between you and the loft, but force yourself up them. The whole floor is the mater bedroom and it’s the size of your entire apartment. Walk-in closet, sectioned off lounge with a desk. His bathroom door is open, mirror fogged. It smells like soap.

“Bedroom to your right,” he calls.

You tip-tap in and your mouth instantly dries. Price is standing in the middle of the room, half dressed. Nothing unprofessional, no. He’s wearing slacks, a belt. But he’s also in socks, a white undershirt. No watch or rings or anything yet.

It feels oddly more intimate than it should. Your face warms despite yourself.

“E-evening, sir.”

He turns and you’re utterly unprepared for just how handsome he really is. Freshly groomed, hair trimmed and gelled, eyes bright.

“Well, aren’t you just a dream,” he rasps. “You’re stunning.”

You clear your throat, know that all the makeup in the world can’t hide how brightly you’re flushing. It’s pure politeness, he’s not looking at you with anything more than friendly appreciation. Mind out of the gutter, now.

“All the flattery in the world won’t save you if we’re late,” you manage, shaking yourself back into work mode. “So let’s see what we’ve got.”

You pick his shirt, a pocket hanky, his shoes. Tell him to get into those while calling Simon up the stairs. He’s there so fast you blink in surprise, then gesture him over. Sit him on an ottoman and extract the little bottle of makeup you’ve started keeping on hand for situations like this.

“Bullshite you had that in your purse,” he scoffs.

“You remember two weeks ago, when Soap came in with that bruise on his jaw?”

They told you it was a “disagreement” at the docks. You didn’t ask further, figuring it was some sort of bar brawl in that part of town. Rowdy boys.

“Ever since, I keep a couple minis on hand for you all.”

They’re so small that you just keep them in a pocket of your purse with the rest of your makeup and the tampons. Good for emergencies like this.

“You sure you’re not a mind reader?” Simon grumbles as you gently dab it over his face.

“How would being a mind reader even help in this situation,” you scoff, patting at it with your middle finger.

Price steps out of the closet with arms out. He’s picked a waistcoat as well that you hum in approval at.

“Which cufflinks are you wearing?” you ask, turning back to Simon. He’s sitting remarkably still and stoic — reminds you of a big dog trying to maintain some dignity while getting fawned over.

“The silver and diamond.”

You make a noise of disagreement. “The gold and onyx would go better.”

A pause. You sneak a glance and are relieved to see him smirking. “I’ll wear those then. Any opinion on a watch?”

You hum again, carding through your mental catalogue. “Oh! The Bulova you wore during that meeting with Kate Laswell. You remember?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

He disappears into his closet again while you lightly blend in the last touches of Simon’s coverup.

“There we are, good as new!” You declare. “Oh, and here.”

You set a couple of ibuprofen in his palm as he stands. “For the inflammation. Take with water.”

“Yes, mum,” he mumbles.

You wince. “Sorry! I’m being overbearing, aren’t I?”

He blinks, then puts a hand up. “No, no. That wasnt — I didn’t mean it in a bad way.”

You don’t entirely believe him. Know that you can be a bit much when you’re on a time crunch. Especially for something like this — an important business meeting over fancy dinner. You feel like everyone’s appearance is riding on you; this is your job after all. One thing out of place and everything will fall apart and it’ll be your fault.

“Simon, go take those,” Price orders from behind.

You turn as he approaches, a similar apology all set on your tongue. Instead, he gives you a sheepish smile and offers the cufflinks.

“Bloody useless with these,” he explains. “So unless you want to spend fifteen minutes losing respect for me…”

You laugh, amused by the idea of your hyper-capable boss struggling with a bit of jewelry that cost as much as a week of work. You step in close to thread them through his sleeves, fingers nimble and sure.

“You’re not wearing cologne?” You ask, surprised.

Don’t even realize how that might sound until he arches an eyebrow at you.

“Thought you might have an opinion on that too,” he replies. “And you haven’t steered me wrong, yet.”

He shows you his modest, but impressive collection of colognes. You pluck up one, sniff, and make a face, eyes watering a bit. It’s mostly full; clearly one he doesn’t wear often and you’re grateful for it.

“That bad, eh?”

“Sir, why?” You lament, putting it back.

“Gift from an ex,” he explains.

You store that tidbit of information away for further examination. The idea of your boss in a romance. Right now you’ve got a task to focus on.

“Did they hate you that entire time?” You wonder.

He snorts. “Maybe.”

You shake your head and pick a different one. Blink in surprise and sniff again. Feel your stomach flip.

“That one?” He asks when he notices you hesitate.

“No,” you say a little too quickly, setting it down. This is a business meeting, you can’t afford to be distracted by how he’ll smell with that on his skin.

You settle on one that doesn’t make your head dizzy and your panties shamefully damp. Still feel a bit like you’re shooting yourself in the foot, though. He’s going to smell sinfully good regardless.

You leave Price to his finishing touches and have Simon help you down the stairs. Check through the notes you hurriedly collected when you realized you’d be attending this dinner.

Price comes down too soon for your poor, stupid heart. Looks like something out of a magazine or a novel or a movie or… just too good to be real, really.

“Pass inspection?” He asks.

“Barely,” you tease.

His eyes do that thing where they smile more than his mouth; how you know it’s genuine. You try not to fluster, zero in on his tie, a little crooked and loose.

“Goodness, sir,” you murmur, stepping in close. Yeah, you were right. That cologne is going to be a personal challenge all night. “How did you get along before me?”

“With bad cologne and shitty ties, apparently,” he chuckles.

You grin despite yourself, getting it secure and centered, before smoothing his vest over it. Give him a once over. Feel your stomach flip again.

“If I may say, sir, you look handsome,” you offer quietly.

“Should hope so,” he replies, voice dipping in a way that’s detrimental to the state of your panties. “You dressed me.”

You hum, reach for your usual dry, sharp humor. “I have great taste.”

Instead of scoffing, he hums in agreement. Something flickers through his eyes that you don’t dare allow yourself to daydream on.

Simon, bless him, clears his throat and draws your attention. You check the clock above the stove.

“Ah, we need to get going. I can’t walk fast in these heels.”

You slip your arm automatically into Price’s and try not to obsess over how well you two fit together.

First | Previous | Next

Masterlist

[iamgonnagetyouback]

𝟷.𝟷𝚔 || 𝐀𝐖𝐊𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐃 𝐃𝐀𝐓𝐄𝐒

♡ ︎ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: When James stays quiet, too quiet, on your first date, unwelcome thoughts start clouding your mind.

♡ ︎ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: Angst with a happy ending, Reader overthinking

♡ ︎ꜱʜɪᴘ: James Potter x fem!reader

♡ ꜱᴏɴɢ: You are in love (Taylor's version) by Taylor Swift

The day you asked James out had been one of those moments where your heart felt like it might jump right out of your chest. You were prepared for rejection, especially since you'd spent years by his side, watching him pine after Lily. But recently… something had shifted. He wasn’t staring at her in class anymore, his jokes about her had ceased, and most of all, he was spending more time with you—closer, warmer. Maybe you were imagining things, but you couldn’t shake the thought that he might finally be over her.

So, you'd asked him out. With shaking hands and a half-terrified smile, you’d blurted out an offer for dinner. And to your utter shock, James had blinked, cheeks flushing a light pink, and mumbled, “Uh… okay, yeah, I’d love that.”

And now, here you were, sitting across from him at a small booth in The Three Broomsticks, tapping your fingers nervously against the wooden table. James was quiet. Too quiet.

You shifted in your seat, trying to make conversation. “So, um… have you finished that Transfiguration essay McGonagall assigned?” It was a safe topic, schoolwork—something you two could always talk about. But his response was short.

“Yeah. Finished it last night.”

“Oh. Cool,” you replied, your voice trailing off.

You tapped your fingers again. James Potter never stopped talking. Silence wasn’t his thing. Which meant that he was uncomfortable. Which meant that this was a disaster. A pit formed in your stomach as you tried again.

“What about Quidditch? You excited for the next match?”

“Yeah, should be fun,” he answered, eyes flicking up to meet yours briefly before darting away. He was fidgeting with the sleeve of his sweater, his knee bouncing beneath the table as he occasionally glanced outside as if he wanted to escape.

Panic bloomed in your chest. He didn’t want to be here. You were terrible. He didn’t like you back. He was probably still hung up on Lily, and he was just too nice to say no.

“I—um—James…” Your voice cracked as you reached for your purse, fingers trembling. You stood up abruptly, trying to hold back the tears that were burning at the corners of your eyes. “You know what? It’s fine. You didn’t have to agree to this out of pity. I get it. I mean, I know you’re still… still hung up on Lily, and I probably just made this really weird, and—”

“Wait, what?” James shot up from his seat, nearly knocking over his butterbeer in the process. His eyes were wide, panicked. “No, no, no, wait, you’ve got it all wrong!”

But you were already rambling, words spilling out in a jumble as you tried to explain how you understood, how he didn’t have to pretend. “It’s fine, really. I shouldn’t have asked. You don’t have to feel guilty or anything. I know you’re probably—”

“Stop! Please, just—just sit down for a second, okay?” James’s voice was more urgent now, his hands reaching out as if to physically stop you from leaving.

You hesitated, your heart racing, before you reluctantly sat back down. “James, it’s okay, really, I—”

“It’s not okay,” he interrupted, his voice quieter now, softer. His hazel eyes were full of something—something raw and nervous and real. “You’ve got it all wrong. I’m not… I’m not hung up on Lily.”

Your heart stumbled at his words. “What?”

“I don’t like Lily anymore,” James said, running a hand through his messy hair in frustration. “I mean, I did for a long time, but that’s… that’s not where my head is now. I like you.”

The words hung in the air between you, heavy and confusing. “You… like me?”

He nodded, his cheeks turning pink again as he looked down at his hands. “Yeah. And that’s why I’ve been so nervous. I don’t know what to say, and I didn’t want to mess this up, and now I’ve gone and made you think I don’t want to be here, which is the furthest thing from the truth.”

You stared at him, processing his confession. “You’re… nervous?”

James let out a huff of laughter, looking a little self-deprecating. “Yeah. I’m never nervous. Except… except with you. Because this actually matters to me. You matter to me.”

Your heart skipped a beat, the earlier hurt and insecurity slowly melting away as his words sank in. He was nervous because he liked you. Not because he didn’t want to be here.

“Oh,” you whispered, feeling a bit ridiculous for jumping to conclusions. “I thought you were… you know, regretting this.”

James shook his head quickly. “No. Not at all. I just… don’t really know how to do this, apparently.”

A small laugh escaped your lips despite the lingering tears. “You’re usually so smooth.”

“Yeah, well, you make me lose all my smoothness,” he said, a lopsided grin finally breaking across his face, though it was still tinged with nervousness.

You felt your shoulders relax for the first time that evening. “You don’t have to be nervous around me, James. We’ve been best friends for years.”

“I know,” he said quietly, his eyes locking onto yours with a softness that made your heart ache in the best way. “But this is different.”

It was different. And maybe that was okay.

“Maybe this whole diner thing isn’t for us,” James suggested after a beat of silence. “Too fancy, don’t you think?”

You chuckled, the sound a little watery. “Maybe.”

“Come on,” he said, standing up and offering you his hand. “Let’s go for a walk. I talk better when I’m moving.”

You smiled, taking his hand, and let him pull you up. As you walked out of the diner and into the cool night air, the tension between you melted away. James started talking—about everything and nothing, rambling on like his usual self. And with each word, you felt the warmth between you grow, the awkwardness fading into something much more familiar, much more comforting.

And as you walked side by side, listening to James fill the quiet with his endless chatter, you couldn’t help but smile. This was what you’d always wanted. Him, you, and all the things that came with it.

[eddiemunsons-missingnipple]

what about edging eddie everytime he comes over to visit you? Grinding or sucking him off only to stop right before he comes every single time.

The way this has been SITTING in my ask box since August :(( I'm sorry. 💕🩷

Can this be bestfriend!Eddie? Because it screams best friend eddie.

The thought of edging Eddie just does something to me. He'd be so whiny about it too whispering to make him cum but you won't and he knows it too. His soft needy cries with that deep voice as your tongue teases his leaking tip. He gets so frustrated when he's about to spill his cum in the back of your throat but you pull him out everytime

Besfriend!Eddie munson x fem!reader

Not proofread.

Your friendship with Eddie was very special. You did everything together. Even fooled around when you got lonely or drunk. You had an agreement of "as long as everything is above the waist," it's okay. Sometimes, things did eventually happen.

You and him didn't date much, so you ended up learning how to give a blow job from him. You taught him how to eat pussy. You practiced on one another. You felt like it was only right to get some experience in for whenever someone asked either one of you out.

That's just how close you two were. It never felt weird or awkward, either. But those type moments only happened once you never spoke of them again. You just heavily made out a lot and did some heavy petting.

Not that you didn't enjoy feeling each other. You most definitely did. You guys felt kinda bad about not having much experience being your early twenties. At least you have one another he'd always reassured. Deep down, Eddie always wanted to make you his.

Now he likes to come over to your place on the weekends to watch a movie and eat junk food. Usually, he brings pizza and rents a terrible b-horror flick from family video.

A loud kick to your door startles you at, and you walk over to look out the peephole.

"Pizza is here, sweetheart." Eddie greeted you with a big smile as you answered your door. That smile soon faltered when he noticed what you were wearing.

You never cared if Eddie saw you naked. You've seen him naked plenty of times when he was drunk off his ass and needed a shower. You opened the door in nothing but a thin tank top and panties that hugged your ass just right. He immediately gulped at the sight.

"It's about time Munson what movie did you pick." You giggled taking the food from his hands.

He clears his throat. "Oh, uhhhhhh, Slumber party massacre." He scratched the back of his neck as he tried to avoid looking so flustered.

"Slumber pary massacre--the movie with the chicks in lingerie getting slaughtered?" You eyed him and got plates ready for the pizza.

"Not surprised that's the movie you'd pick."

You don't really notice how he's looking at you. You're too focused getting the food ready for you and him to eat. You moved around your apartment, and his eyes followed your every step.

Eddie couldn't stop staring at you. His eyes fixed on the curve of your ass and the way your nipples were poking through the material of your shirt. He tries to discreetly readjust himself, so you see the obvious growing buldge in his jeans.

"Yeah, well, we've watched everything else in that video store." Eddie looked down at his feet with his hands in his pockets.

His cock was throbbing against the zipper of his jeans. He stood there by the door, not moving a muscle. He thought if he didn't move, you'd forget he was even there.

"Hey Eddie." You called out softly to him.

His head perks up and his eyes meet yours. "W-whats up?"

"Come sit with me." You pat the empty spot next to you on the couch.

The pizza and drinks were already laid out and ready to eat. Eddie couldn't focus on anything but you. His mind races at all the possibilities of taking you right there on the couch. Your pussy getting split open around his cock. Your cute, soft little moans in his ear. Your juices dripping down your thighs while he fucked you roughly in your living room. Your poor neighbors hearing your cries of pleasure.

The movie was playing, but he has no idea what's even happening or cares for that matter. His eyes kept glancing over at you. You're sitting with your legs criss-cross while eating your third slice of pizza. He had one foot propped up on your coffee table as he licked his lips watching you.

Your eyes focus on the shitty movie he rented. You were right he did pick this out to watch half-naked women run around in the skimpiest lingerie. The killer having a guitar as a weapon now makes perfect sense now, too. Truthfully. It was the closest thing to porn Eddie could get you to watch with him. He was a bit of perv, and he'll admit that.

He eyes keep wandering over to your figure from the swell of your breasts down to your thighs. His head leaned forward to get a tiny glimpse of what's between your legs. Your underwear doing you no justice in covering much of anything at all. He smiled to himself. his mouth watered, remembering the night he tasted you.

You could feel his eyes on you practically all night long. He was acting a little funny the second he walked through the front door. You chalked it up to him working too much and needing some rest. You tried to ignore his lingering stare. You just couldn't any longer.

"You okay?" You looked over at him. You noticed he hasn't eaten one single slice of pizza. "You seem a little...antsy I guess."

He coughed and tried to play it cool. "Me? No, no, I'm fine."

You squinted at him. "I don't believe you."

"Alright, fine." He threw his back and groaned. "it's you."

"Me?" You asked, confused. "What about me?"

"It's....you. it's always you. You always make me so hot and I feel like anytime I'm around you I can't even fucking think straight." Eddie confessed. He was speaking so fast that you barely had time to register what he was saying.

You sit there quietly, not saying a word yet. You don't want to misinterpret what he's trying to tell you. even though you have a pretty good idea of what it's about.

"I--look. Listen--Touch me. Please. We don't have to have sex. Just touch me. Make me beg. I don't even have to cum. I just need to feel you." He voice sounded so desperate.

His eyes looked into yours, and you couldn't deny him. His brown eyes are looking deep into yours. You nod and move to sit in his lap with your back against his chest. His arms instinctively wrapped around your waist, keeping you close. Your ass pressing right up against his cock. You could feel just how hard he is.

"Why didn't you say something sooner?" You whispered.

"Didn't want to make shit uncomfortable." His voice muffled as he peppered light kisses on your neck.

Your eyes flutter closed when his soft lips touch your skin. "You'd never make me uncomfortable we've done lots of things together before."

"I know I just never want you to feel like I'm using you." Eddie leaves a trail of wet kisses from your neck and down to your shoulder. You moved your head back to give him better access.

His hips lift slightly to rub up into your ass. He cursed under his breath, and your hands went down to grip on his thighs

"Fuck sweetheart grind on me." He said breathlessly.

You nod and move your hips back and forth in his lap. Your ass rubbing on his cock over his jeans. His arms wrapping around you tighter as he buries his face in your neck.

"That's it, sweetheart grind that cute ass on me." Eddie grunted and bucked up his hips for some added friction.

You pressed down harder on his cock. Your hips swiveling in a circular motion. He's whimpering in your ear. His legs bounce up and down while you grind on him. You dig your nails into his thighs to hold on tight.

"Fuck please---id do anything for you sweetheart. Anything." Eddie rasped in your ear. "You can have my cock whenever you want it."

"You think I could take it?" You teased and pushed your ass on him hard, making him jerk.

"Baby ill make sure you can take it. Y-you're such a good girl." He groaned and grinded himself up against your ass.

You continued moving back and forth on his cock. You could feel his breathing quickening just by how his chest pressed into your back.

"I know how messy you can get. Thinking about having you squirting all over me." His voice is shakey as your hips switch to moving back in a circular motion again.

You whimper at his words and feel yourself growing wetter. Your panties are completely soaked through. His voice is trembling, and his arms are constricting around you. There is a small wet patch forming on his jeans from the mess you've created in your panties and his precum.

"Mmm, I'm so close." He moans, and you slow down.

You stopped your movements for a few seconds, and Eddie whines. He swallows and tries to control himself.

After a few more minutes, you start moving. His cock is so sensitive and begging for release. He needs to cum so bad but loves the feeling of you edging him. The feeling of getting so close only for you to stop is driving him crazy.

You speed up and your ass grinds down on his cock. Your pace went from fast to slow anytime he got close again. You kept getting him close to the edge only to stop or slow down. it was almost too painful for him to keep going but liked it. His face is covered in sweat.

"let me cum." Eddie beggee and bit down on your shoulder. You whimpered from the pain.

Shaking your head no and grind your ass down on his cock. The material of his boxers scratched against him. He was becoming needy for you the more you teased him.

"Fuck please let me cum baby---please." He kept begging. Your pussy was aching for some type of relief. His breath tickled your throat while he spoke. "Shit I'm gonna cum."

"Oh," your eyebrows shoot up, and you stop. You moved his arms from around your waist and went to sick back down in your spot.

"I-i thought." He swallows and sinks back. His legs spread wide open. The look he gave you almost made you feel guilty for stopping.

You could see that wet patch on his lap that's much more noticeable than you thought. His painfully hard cock straining against his pants.

"You said you didn't have to cum. Remember?" You teased and went back to watching the movie.

Eddie smirked and moved to scoot closer to you." If I make you cum around my fingers will you let make me cum?" He whispered seductively.

"Maybe... we'll see how good you make me feel first."