#just for the love of god open the box and flip the switches off

[sketchymoray]

at writers, game people, etc.:

STOP SHOOTING ELECTRICAL BOXES, THAT'S NOT GOING TO DO ANYTHING BUT MAKE IT UNSAFE TO FIX LATER

THOSE THINGS ARE SOLID FUCKING METAL AND STUFF INSIDE, ONE BULLET WONT DO SHIT EXCEPT FOR ELECTRIFYING SOMETHING THAT SHOULDN'T BE ELECTRIFIED

[samandcolbyownme]

This one shot is going to have reader being choked with a chain necklace, PLEASE DONT READ IF YOURE UNCOMFORTABLE!

Also, if you haven't read part 1, I suggest doing so before reading this part! 

Summary: request in the comments of part one - "omg maybe you can continue?? pleasee than jake finds out. or maybe that johnnie goes live again and y/n walks by and the chat sees her neck and asks in to it?" 

Warnings: SMUT18+, strong language, CHOKING with a metal chain, hair pulling, biting, scratching, oral (m rec), fingering, unprotected sex, creampie, general filth 

Word count: 2.8K | not edited 

╔═══━━━─── • ───━━━═══╗

Your fingers grazed over the slightly faded bruises from a few days ago. You're actually surprised they haven't gone away yet, same as Johnnie. 

"Whatcha doing?" Johnnie asks and you jump slightly, "God damn, I need to put a bell on you." 

He laughs, smiling as he walks up behind you, "Still haven't gone away, huh?" 

He reaches up to move your hair, looking at the yellowish brown color of the bruising, "Taking its good old time I guess." 

You laugh, spinning around to face him, "I guess so." You hook your finger over the same chain that was used to wrap around your neck, "What are your plans today?" 

You look up at him, and he smirks, "I talked Jake into doing a stream with me." 

You raise your brows, nodding, "Ah, sounds fun." 

"Yeah, I don't know what we're doing. Jake said he's bringing something over, so I'm kind of scared." 

You laugh, "Yeah, you never know what the man has planned." You slide your hands up his chest, "So I was thinking.." 

"Oh, I like when you think." Johnnie laughs softly and you twirl the chain around your finger, "maybe when you're done streaming.." you bite your lip and look up at him.

He tilts his head, "Mm, I see. You don't want those bruises to go away, do you?" 

You shrug, "I think of it.." you lean in closer to him, "As a semi-permanent necklace from the one I love dearly." 

He clears his throat, "Fuck, okay. I mean.." he sighs, "That's hot. I can't lie." 

You smirk, sighing slightly as you hear the front door open, "He has the worst possible timing on this planet." 

"Yo, john john." Jake yells, his footsteps growing closer as he walks back the hall, "Where the fak are ya!?" 

"I'm not here." Johnnie yells back and you try not to laugh too loudly. Jake walks back, stopping when he sees you and Johnnie. 

"Um, I'm just gonna.." he points with his thumb behind him and slowly takes a few steps back. 

"We're not doi-" 

Jake cuts you off, "Yeah, uh huh. Alright." 

You laugh, "You better go." Johnnie kisses your forehead, "Don't go too far." He smirks, giving you a wink before turning and running into the door frame. 

"Oh." You cover your mouth and he sighs, "You make me nervous. This is your fault." He points back to you before stepping over and walking out.

You shake your head laughing, flipping off the light switch as you walk out to the living room. 

.·:*¨ ✘ ¨*:·.

A little bit later, you hear Johnnie call for you from the room, "Hey babe." 

"Yeah?" You yell back. 

"Come here. There's donuts." 

You get up, walking back the hall, peaking your head around the opening, "Donuts you say?" 

"Yeah, come get some before ass face eats them all." Johnnie laughs and you tilt your head, "Johnnie, that wasn't nice." You smile walking in and Jake points to Johnnie like a child, "Ah ha. You got yelled at." 

"I'll yell at you next if you want me to." You say walking around to stand behind them. 

Jake shakes his head, mouth full of donut muffling his words, "No ma'am." He holds his hands up, "I'm good." 

You laugh, reaching between them to grab a donut from the box. 

You hear Jake whispering and donut pieces fly from his mouth, landing on Johnnie as he yells, "Johnnie! What did you do to y/n?" 

"Dude! Your donuts chunks are spewing all over me." Johnnie wipes himself off, looking up to read the chat quickly before looking at Jake, "What are you ta-" 

His eyes go wide, along with yours, and he starts to laugh nervously, "Oh, um.. that." 

Jake tosses his donut down, standing up a he wipes his icing covered fingers on his shirt, "What the fuck. Was this consensual?!"

"Oh my god." You turn away, "Can you not make it a big deal, Jake." 

Johnnie sits there, a nervous smirk on his face, "guys. I think.. I can try and explain this.." 

"No, guys. I don't think he tried to murder her." Jake answers the chat, "Johnnie is a menace." He laugh, "Yeah, a menace to society." 

You turn back around, "I'm just gonna, step over to the side." You laugh and walk out of camera view. 

"It was not, and I repeat not attempted murder." Johnnie lifts his hands, "That's my commentary. Moving on." 

"Was it from the chain around your neck?" Jake looks over at Johnnie, trying to hold back his laughter, "That's a great question." 

"I said moving on." Johnnie yells while laughing, "Jesus Christ." 

Your hand moves up to lay over your neck, taking in what just happened. 

"How many people are here?" Jake leans in, squinting, "Forty thousand people now know that you're an attempted murderer." 

"Jake, no. No. Let's not spread that around." Johnnie rests his elbow on the table, laying his head in his hand, "for fucks sake." 

"Nah, if Johnnie was a murder, he'd come-" Jake laughs, "For me first. Let's be honest." 

You roll your eyes, "I genuinely cannot.." you sigh, shaking your head, "Fuck me." 

"I'm sure if you gave Johnnie the chance he would." Jake looks at you and you nod, "How do you think the marks got here in the first place?" 

Jake's mouth drops as he slowly turns to Johnnie, "You fucking freak." 

Johnnie smiles at you, shaking his head as he leans down to pretend to bash it off the table, "You know if you weren't here-"

"Your life would be boring. I know." Jake smirks, pulling his shoulders up, "You're welcome." 

"I was going to say better, but whatever helps you sleep at night." Johnnie rolls his eyes. He leans in, groaning as he reads the chat, "Figure it out yourselves."

He laughs, "Y/n. How did that happen?" 

You shrug, "I'm not really sure, I woke up one morning and they were there." 

"Oh god, don't." Johnnie laughs, "I promise it wasn't me." 

Jake starts laughing hard, "They.. oh my god, they wanna know if it was Timmy." 

You start laughing, "Jesus Christ. No." You shake your head, yelling, "I'm leaving." 

You walk back out to the living room, getting onto Johnnie's stream on your phone, mainly to read the comments. 

User1: NAH it was definitely the chain around Johnnie's neck you can't tell me ANYTHING different  User2: JOHNNIE WTF  User3: wait. I think y/n joined the stream  User4: JOHNNIE YOUR GF IS SO HOT 

"Y/n. You're in the living room. Get out." Johnnie waves his hand, "Oh the chat I mean. Get out of my stream." 

You smirk as you type, Ouch. That was rude.

"Thank you. I know my girlfriend is hot." Johnnie shrugs, "Why she wants to be with me? I have no idea, but I'm grateful for it." 

User5: JOHNNIE be nice to y/n  Used6: oh my god I love these people  User7: so y/n, tell us about the bruises  User8: PLEASE BEGGING ON MY KNEES  User9: WAS IT THE CHAIN IT WAS THE CHAIN WASNT IT 

You laugh, I have no comment on that matter lol. 

"Y/n!" Johnnie yells, getting up to leave the room. He walks out the hall and stands there staring at you, "Babe!" 

"What?" You ask innocently, "I'm just.. watching this cute guys stream, well.." you show him your phone, "the cute guy left us with his weird friend.. Jake, I think his name is?" 

"Ha ha, very funny." He walks over, leaning down. Your eyes look at the chain that's swinging from his neck and you look back up at him, "Don't tease me like that." 

He smiles, "I'm not doing anything." He stands up, turning to walk away and you watch as he disappears back the hallway, reappearing on your phone screen, "Sorry. I had to um, yeah." 

Jake is sitting there eating another donut, "uh huh. So anyway.." 

.·:*¨ ✘ ¨*:·.

It's around ten when Jake and Johnnie finally end the stream. 

You're sitting in bed, scrolling on your phone when you see a notification pop up. You tap it, laughing when you see a picture of Johnnie with the words above it, 'I just know this guy is a freak in the sheets.'

"Johnnie, baby!" You call out and Johnnie walks into the bedroom, "What?" He closes the door and walks over to you. 

You turn your phone around and he sighs, hanging his head down, "Oh fuck. Here comes the memes." 

You reach over to set your phone on the stand, leaning back over to look up at him, "I mean.. I can definitely confirm that this meme is true." 

"Oh yeah?" He tilts his head and you twirl the metal around your finger as you nod, "Mhm." 

He brushes hair from your face, "I can confirm the same about you, you know that right?" You shrug, "If you want, or you can just experience for yourself." 

You bite your lip as you smile and he nods, "Mm, now that's tough choice." 

You tug on the chain slightly, "Metal chain part two sounds good right now doesn't it." 

He nods, "One hundred percent." He smirks as he dips his head down to attach his lips to yours.

You kick the blankets off, revealing your, already bare, legs. 

Johnnie slides a hand down, slipping it between your thighs, "Soaked." He mumbles against your lips, slipping his fingers in past the thin lining of your panties. 

"Tell me when you want it." He whispers, lips brushing against yours. 

You let out a small moan, gasping as he pushes his fingers in deeper, "Fuck, now." 

He lifts the chain off over his head, letting it fall over yours, "All yours, my love." Johnnie smirks as he wraps the metal chain around his hand. 

He slowly tightens it as he works his fingers in and out of your soaked cunt. 

Your eyes flutter closed as the metal tightens against your skin, slowly causing your whimpers and moans to become quieter and quieter. 

He keeps the chain tight against your neck as his fingers work in and out of you at a pace that's sure to get you where he wants you.

"You gonna cum for me?" He asks in a low tone. 

You nod, squeezing his fingers. 

Your eyes flutter shut as you feel so close to that knot in your stomach snapping - until he stops, slipping his fingers from you. 

"J-Johnnie." You whimper, frustrated that he stoped right when you were about to cum. 

He releases the chain and lets it drop onto your chest, "Knees baby." 

You sit up, sliding down off of the bed and resting on your knees. He moves to sit on the edge of the bed, standing up to undo the belt on his jeans. 

You slip your shirt off over your body, leaving you in nothing but your panties and the chain hanging down between your boobs. 

You reach up, pulling down his pants, eager to have him inside of you, way one or the other. 

Johnnie unbuttons his black button up, letting it lay open as he watches you move in between his knees. He lifts his hips to slip down his boxers, biting down gently into his lip ring when one of your hands wraps around the base of his cock. 

His head tilts back slightly, eyes still on you as you slowly stroke him. 

You lick your lips, looking up at him as you watch him completely melt into your touch. 

"Fuck, baby." Johnnie breathes out, reaching down to hook his finger over the chain. He pulls it up, using it to pull you closed to his cock, "Don't tease me, sweetheart." 

You open your mouth, taking the top of his cock into your mouth, causing a groan to escape his lips. The chain slowly tightens as he gradually moves his hand down it getting it closer to your neck.

He twists it, sliding his hand back to loop it around his hand as you bob your head up and down. 

His hips buck as he gasps, "Fuck." 

You push your head down as far as it can go, holding it there until he tugs on the chain, "So fucking good." 

You smirk up at him, dipping your head back down to take the head of his cock back between your lips.

He lays his other hand on your head, gently rubbing his thumb over your hair as you work your way back down onto him, "S-shit, that's it baby." 

You squeeze your eyes shut, bobbing your head a few more times before he pulls the chain, getting you to pop off. 

You lean back, smirking up at him with watery eyes as a string of saliva keeps you connected to him. 

He lets go of the chain, biting onto his lip ring as he swipes the corner of your mouth with his thumb, "Ride me." 

You scramble to your feet, chain still in Johnnie's hand like a leash as you push your panties down and flick them away with your foot. 

Johnnie moves backwards on the bed, pulling you along with him. 

You crawl up his body, straddling his waist. He pulls you down, connecting his lips with yours. You reach down between your bodies, taking his cock into your hand as you lift up. 

You keep your lips on his, moaning into his mouth as you sink down onto him. 

A groan leaves his lips and the chain tightens around your neck, "Fucking shit." Johnnie breathes out, "You feel so fucking good." 

You whimper quietly as you move your hips up and down. 

Rocking forward and back, hands on his chest as he keeps the chain right where you want it. 

Your eyes close as you let yourself rest all the way down, a strangle moan escaping as the chain looses for just a quick second. 

Johnnie pulling you down to him, your body going naturally, "Keep going, sweetheart." 

You dig your nails into his chest as you push down to lift yourself up, earning moans from Johnnie as you slide back down. 

You felt close again, even though you couldn't say it, he knew. 

"Come on, baby. You can do it." He coaches, "Cum for me." 

You tilt your head back, the chain pulling tighter. You squeeze your eyes shut tight, muffled moans slip through your parted lips as you clench your walls around his cock. 

Johnnie bucks his hips upward as his fingers dig into your hip, "Just like that, baby. Fuck, just like that." 

You look down at him, hair falling in front of your face, which he quickly brushes away so he can watch you. 

His eyes scan down your body, lip pulled between his teeth as his breathing grows heavier. 

He sits up, taking over as he lays you flat on your back, chain pinned down right next to your neck - you knew there would be new bruises tomorrow. 

But that was the point. 

Johnnie's thrusts are hard, fast, full of love and pleasure. He loved making you feel good. 

If it wasn't for the chain holding you'd back, you'd probably be screaming, moaning his name over and over again loudly. 

Your nails drag up his arms and dig them into his shoulders. He leans down, pressing his lips to yours as he causes the chain to loosen. 

He swallows your moans, groaning as he lays a hand on your cheek, thrusting his cock into you. 

He holds it there as he twitches, alternating kissing your lips and neck, "Did I hurt you?" 

You lay a hand on his cheek, brushing his hair from his eyes, "No, but just don't panic tomorrow morning when there's more bruises." 

"You are such a freak." He smirks, sitting up, "But I love you." 

"I think I've heard that once or twice before." You smirk, "I love you." 

.·:*¨ ✘ ¨*:·.

I couldn't stop thinking about this, so I hope you enjoyed it. Making Headlines for Sam Golbach will be out next, and hopefully soon. 

As always, I love yas. Thanks for reading! Let me know what you thought of it!  likes and reblogs are appreciated!

[ja3hwa]

Day 22 : Masturbation - Wooyoung

「Title」 : Desperate

「Word count」 : 1.17k

-> Genre: Suggestive, Frat Boy Au

Paring: FratBoy!Wooyoung x Reader

[Warnings] : Weed is mentioned. Jerking off. (Both m and f). Facetime sex. Wooyoung is very horny and high. Brownies (hehe). Pet names. Some hints of exhibitionism. Wooyoung moans loudly. Kinda switch reader and switch Wooyoung. Almost getting caught. Swearing. Let me know If I missed anything.

February Filth Fest Event Day Calendar

It takes you a while to wake up and realize that your phone is ringing. You shuffle over the bed and look at the time. It bloody one in the morning. You flip your phone over and see it’s your boyfriend calling. He’s currently at a friend's place. Boys' night out and everything. You stare at the phone too long that the call rings out. It’s not even two seconds later that the phone rings again in your face. You sigh and answer. It’s a face time and you nearly scare yourself with the image of yourself. Wooyoung on the other hand is a mess as well. He looks high as a kite. And there’s… clothes around him? What is he doing in his friend’s closet?

“Oh, you finally picked up,” He mumbled.

“What are you doing in the closet?”  You ask still half asleep, trying your best to rub the sleep out of your eyes.

“I’m in here so no one hears me.”

“Whatever for?”

“I’m horny.”

You blink slowly somehow now fully awake. “You’re high and horny aren’t you,” This is the second time he’s done this. But the first time it wasn’t at one in the morning. You let out a small huff as you roll over to your side. His breathing begins to pick up on the other side of the call and your eyes widen.

“You are not jerking off in there! Get out of the closet!” You snap in a hush, trying to sound assertive but in face of it, you couldn’t even hide your smile. God, he’s an idiot. Wooyoung grumbles under his breath and the only thing you’re able to make out is, ‘Give me a second,’ while static from him brushing the phone around makes it near impossible to hear anything else.

You watch your phone as he shuffles around, clothes hitting his face. He opens the closet door and the phone suddenly flips with the flash on. You’re able to see all the other boys passed out asleep in a pile on the small bed with pizza boxes all over the floor. Wooyoung curses under his breath and turns the phone back on him. The angle is unflattering. You can see up his nose and his face looks like the sun. God, he’s a mess but somehow you still love him. He finally makes it to the bathroom without waking anyone up and but doesn’t turn the light on. Instead of sitting on the toilet or sitting on the floor, Wooyoung decides to sit inside the shower. It takes him two times to try and close to glass door before he sits on, what you guess, wet tiles.

“Will you join me,” Wooyoung asks in a whisper his eyes only half opened.

“Woo, I am not in the mood right now. It’s one a.m.,” you say but quickly add, “But don’t let me stop you from a good time.” You hear him shuffle around and something hits the glass. Like clothes thwacking against a wall. All you can imagine is Wooyoung naked from the waist down and it makes you smile widely trying so hard to burst into a fit of laughter.

“How much did you smoke?” You ask.

“We didn’t smoke tonight. We ate brownies and I had quite a lot,” he admits.

“Oh, Woo. No wonder why you’re desperate,” you tell him truthfully. He only grins at you. But his face turns to pure bliss in an instant. He’s touching himself and he’s already lost himself. “I don’t just wanna see your face, let me see you,” you whisper.

His focus comes back onto you and then there’s more shuffling around with the phone. He sets it up on the opposite side of the shower wall so he’s in fall view now. There’s enough light for you to see he’s got his legs open and his cock is full in his hand. His shirt is rolled up and the hem is between his teeth. God is he a sight. You’re fully awake now and you can feel yourself getting horny, clenching your thighs together as you are now laying on your arm.

“Alright, keep going Baby,” you urge him on biting your lip slightly. He begins jerking himself off but it’s not slow or anything for show. He’s quick, desperate and he’s chasing his own high at the moment. His pants become louder and you suddenly become self-aware that there’s others in the room beside him.

“Softer, Wooyoung. You’re not alone,” you remind him in a sultry tone. His teeth let god off the shirt so it can now sit bunch up on his chest. He places a hand over his mouth to muffle his noises. He rubs himself slower as if your voice reminded him you were there.  Now he’s showing off and it’s getting to you.

“Mind if I join you?” You ask.

“Go-” He whines. “Go right ahead…Please,” he answers breathlessly.

You sit up slightly, placing pillows behind you so you can lean into them more easily. Your shuffling catches Wooyoung’s attention making you stop for a moment out of curiosity. Keeping a tight grip on your phone, the other hand comes up to your mouth to suck on two of your fingers, coating them up before gliding them down to your core. You’re already a little wet and you glide two in easily. Keeping an easy rhythm for yourself, Wooyoung begins to speed up again.

“Come for me baby,” you whisper and it seems to push him over the edge. He comes in his hand, catching himself so it doesn’t go on the tiles. He pants loudly and looks back at the phone.

“Holy shit,” he breathes out.  He slowly collects himself, grabbing his phone with his clean hand and he just stares at you. Even though with all this excitement, you lazily keep your rhythm. You started to become overwhelmed, feeling your high coming closer and closer. You are so close, so desperate to release and just as you are about to come a sudden sound of a door opening makes you stop in your tracks. Wooyoung stays still also as someone walks in. You bring your fingers out, feeling your mood ruined. Then there’s the sound of someone pissing in the toilet. The piss goes on forever and Wooyoung looks terrified. If this person sees him, there’s no talking his way out of this one. But somehow, luck is on his side or his friend is just too high because they walk right back out after completing their business.

“That was a close one,” you chuckle lightly.

“I’m never doing this again.” Wooyoung was definitely lying in this sentence.

-

Ateez Masterlist

Navigation

Taglist : @yunhofingers @violetwinters @lmhmh01 @purrhwa @joti17 @jess-1404 @pinki-minki @yesv01 @minkiflwr @rielleluvs @dilfjohhny @whatudowhennooneseesyou   @az-con @jen176pink @sundaybossanova @8tinytings @mysticfire0435 @yeosan8 @spookyauthorspopmusictrash @zi-ever @fl0r4f4wn @candypop1611 @toxicccred @yvnjin-s @meltheninja13 @atinyreads @e-ahn19 @stardragongalaxy

© 𝐉𝐚𝟑𝐡𝐰𝐚. Do not steal, plagiarise, translate, repost, or use my work in any way, shape, or form.

𝐃𝐈𝐒𝐂𝐋𝐀𝐈𝐌𝐄𝐑 : 𝑇𝐻𝐼𝑆 𝐼𝑆 𝐼𝑁 𝑁𝑂 𝑊𝐴𝑌 𝐴 𝑇𝑅𝑈𝐸 𝐷𝐸𝑃𝐼𝐶𝑇𝐼𝑂𝑁 𝑂𝐹 𝑇𝐻𝐸 𝐴𝑇𝐸𝐸𝑍 𝑀𝐸𝑀𝐵𝐸𝑅𝑆. 𝑇𝐻𝐼𝑆 𝐼𝑆 𝑃𝑈𝑅𝐸 𝐹𝐼𝐶𝑇𝐼𝑂𝑁 𝐴𝑁𝐷 𝐼𝑆 𝑁𝑂𝑇 𝑇𝑂 𝐵𝐸 𝑇𝐴𝐾𝐸𝑁 𝑆𝐸𝑅𝐼𝑂𝑈𝑆𝐿𝑌.

[celabi]

this a a fact.

scummy scara has no fashion taste other than hoodies and what ever clean pants he can find on his floor. Read: a hoodie he hasn’t washed in six months and a pair of pants that don’t he hasn’t busted a nut in.

he just doesn’t wash clothes. so he just uses foul axe body spray to hide his scummy scent.

like after you start to show interest he washes his clothes now and stopped using axe after he heard you talking shit ab it. now he uses one that by the grace of the gods you love.

you have to dress that motherfucker he couldn’t put together a good outfit if eating you out for as long as he wanted was on the line.

you pick out what he wears bc he asked you to bc “he wants to look nicer” truthfully he just wanted to see what you found attractive. and to get you in his room, in his closet where you might find that little black box with your dirty panties in it.

write a drabble maybe 👉👈

also when i talk ab scummy scara i mean snake bite having wolf cut rocking looks clean on the outside but does the filthiest shit on the inside. fucking cooking for you with his cum. cumming on your toothbrush.

but thats for a different time. any way this is the style i picture him in. he only wears platforms bc he has this need for height.

Jsnsnsnsn omg pls just scara sitting on the foot of his bed while you rummage through his closet, trying to pick out an outfit for him to wear for your date, knowing that if you didn’t, he would show up to the fancy restaurant in a baggy hoodie, sweats, and a pair of flip flops. His knee bounces faster as you get deeper into the closet. There’s clothes thrown messily onto his bedroom floor, all of his shoes (there’s two pairs) are lost somewhere in between the mix as well, and you keep finding some ‘random junk’ just carelessly shoved behind everything, like loose fake nails who you’re sure aren’t his because he shows up to class with badly painted, short black nails, there’s hair ties that have no purpose to him because his hair is too short, and occasionally you’d pull out some loose Pokémon cards.

“Scara… you’re not really giving me anything to work with here.” You mumble, lifting up a band t shirt that has holes ripped on all sides. He slightly leans to the side and views over your shoulder, he gulps. “Uh, yeah sorry, I don’t do much clothes shopping…” ‘she’s getting closer.’ He can feel his heart racing in his chest as you kneel forward and reach for anything else that might be hiding at the back, and he gulps when you quietly murmur a small ‘what’s this?’ as your hand grabs onto something. Oh this is it, you’re gonna see them, he thought he had hid them well, but you’re not even searching for them and you’ve managed to find them already. Oh god, will you scream at him for stealing them? You’re gonna leave him aren’t you. His eyes start to sting, and his hand reaches down to scratch at his leg in fear. This is it, it’s all over, everything he worked so hard for is abo—

“Oh, this shirt looks okay. Here, show me what it looks like on.” You stand up, pat the dust off your knees and hand him a surprisingly clean shirt that you had pulled out from the closet. He blinks, and slowly reaches out to grab it from you. So you didn’t see—? He so thought that his life was over, but maybe you had missed the small box hidden away in the corner, and he’s glad you did. “Yeah o-okay.” His cheeks redden when you watch him pull off the shirt he was already wearing and replace it with the one you gave him, before he tugs at hem and nervously shuffles his feet. “Uh.. so, do you think I look… good?”

“Yeah, you look cute. Come on, let’s go.” You reach for his hand and pull him along, which he makes no complaints about, a wonky smile on his lips while his eyes follow your move, before switching off his bedroom light and walking to the door. Maybe he was so distracted by your complaint that he failed to notice the very box he was dreading you to find opened, with a little pair off panties peeking out from inside. 😱 spoiler u found them whatttt

scara with band tee shirts and chains mwah I love

Anyways he’s so cute I’ll put him in some pink panties and eat him out thanks 🥺

[pregnancykink]

flowers in the desert

– for @wincestwednesdays flash event prompt 1: lost

Sam likes the lost moments, the in-between moments; pulled off the side of an open highway to watch the stars, holed up in a motel room with no guests in either adjoining one and abandoning all pretenses of sleeping separately, watching Dean fill Baby up with gas all gentle like she can feel it. Dean leaning over the counter to slide two twenties to the attendant like she’s a bartender and he wants free shots, Dean’s fingers curled around the pump; squeezing, calloused, dirty under the nails because they haven’t stopped somewhere to shower yet. Taking moments like snapshots, keeping them close, saving them for the rainy day that’s about to be forever when Dean’s year is up.

He likes it when motels are bases and not stopovers, when they’re leaving a hunt and not headed to one. When Dean bitches and moans because they could’ve prepaid for a week and saved a couple bills if they’d known they wouldn’t find a case this whole time from one town to the next, one state to the next, one monster to the next.

And it’s nice, staying at least a week somewhere; Sam knows better than to let some place become a home, but a funny feeling runs through him every time he comes in the door from a beer run and there’s a dent in the mattress from days of use.

Dean will say, “I’m itching to work, man, I need a case,” and Sam will agree because he gets it, but his threshold is higher than Dean’s so he’ll say, “hey, hold on,” and walk Dean back toward the bed. And Dean will go with it, he’ll get all pliant real fast with Sam’s hands pressing on his shoulders until his thighs hit the mattress.

It’s always lights-on but no-talking-during, kisses that are passionate but aren’t always nice because Sam’s still angry about Dean’s deal and Dean’s still angry about Dad, but it’s sex that’s sometimes sweet and all the time slow. In the lost moments it’s not desperate thank-god-we’re-alive and it’s not fast I-could-kill-you-I’m-so-pissed-at-what-you-just-did; it’s not fucking, it’s not making love, it’s sex; tender and mild and biblical but without a shred of virtue. It never takes long; pants off, Dean laying back on the bed, Sam looming over him like a burial shroud or maybe a soft, warm blanket depending on the day.

It never takes long before Sam’s got Dean flipped over, two fingers, three; a hand on his cock even though Dean can come untouched if he’s coaxed into it; he can do anything if he’s coaxed into it and Sam – Sam loves it, loves flipping the switch on all of his brother’s mother henning and turning it back on him. Loves when the headboard beats against the wall when the room next door is empty, maybe even more when it's occupied. Loves when they’re both fucked out and Dean’s shot all over his own stomach, laying there and saying “just lemme be for a moment.” There’s no pillowtalk, no discussing hunts, just pay-per-view on TV be it fight sports or porn, eating delivery because they have the time to wait for it and it's not their names on the card they're paying the fee with anyway.

He’d never say it out loud, but sometimes the lost moments, the in-between moments, they feel like something special to Sam; as close to romance as they’ll ever get, whirlwind in the sense that it's a ticking time bomb. And sometimes Sam will get so wrapped up in things, he’ll forget the date, the month; he’s telling time by the weather alone. And one day Dean will come out of the Gas ‘n’ Sip and toss a box of condoms and a Three Musketeers bar at his head, Sam’s favorite, and he’ll say “you know what day it is?” and Sam will say, “you don’t even know what day it is,” and Dean will say “happy birthday, bitch,” and sure enough it's May 2nd. It’s not the highlight reel, no heroics no guts no glory, but it’s the tired moments, the boring moments, the maybe-it-feels-a-little-domestic moments. The lost moments. They keep Sam going, and they'll keep Sam going when it's all over.

[my past ww event ficlets here]

[theluciansystem]

Moon Knight - "what's an avatar to a god?" - Ask game, prompt 14

Summary: When you're walking home from a store, about to celebrate the boys' release from Khonshu, things get a little messy as someone follows you home.

Warnings: mentions of blood, alcohol, some creep, and a knife. + dying Y/N.

Word count: 890

Notes: hope you enjoy :)

They were free as of 2 months ago, free of Khonshu, free to not do his bidding anymore, and I am so proud of them for leaving him behind. I knew it was hard to leave, but my boys did it.

Steven and Marc had been encouraging Jake to finally leave Khonshu since the end of Ammit, near when I first met them. Jake later told me he hated ‘that maldito pollo’ anyway, and didn’t like being told what to do.

______________

I’m walking with a box of chocolates and some wine for me and Steven. Tonight was our night to celebrate, I set up a night for me and each of the boys. Today Steven, tomorrow Jake, and then the day after Marc.

I start to hear footsteps behind me after I leave the store. I continue to walk for a while, waiting for them to turn off somewhere. But the steps continue, continue, continue…   I start to worry, I’m about a two blocks from home, I just can’t have something else happen. I pull out the pocket knife Marc gave me, I turn to face whoever’s following me and-

…

______________

“Y/N isn’t picking up, guys…” Steven says out loud, and he tries to call again, only to get voicemail again Trying to fidget with a rubik’s cube in one hand, phone in the other.  

She’s most likely just picking up extra stuff at the store or just got distracted, it’s fine. Marc says, attempting to comfort, almost sounding like he’s trying to convince himself of that too.

Why so worried, hermano?  Jake asks. 

“I dunno, I just got a bad feelin’.” Steven replies, still fidgeting, he looks over to the mirror.  Trust that feeling, go get ‘em!   Jake gives a light smile then gestures to his jacket..

“Yeah.. yeah!” Steven puts on his jacket, and grabs his keys. Jake turns to look back at Steven while he’s not looking, Jake looks mildly concerned.

______________

Finally on the streets, Steven begins to walk toward the direction of the store you were supposed to be at. Not even a block in, he sees a form on the ground, a flashing streetlamp gently illuminating it. He stops, he knows that jacket that’s cuddled around the body—your body-…  he rushes toward you, flipping you onto your back.

There’s so much blood..  Marc says, and that’s all it took. Steven starts sob, “fuck fuck… love, please,” he checks, and you’re breathing, but just barely. He takes out his phone and dials for emergency.

------

You can faintly hear him… his voice, you cling to that.

You open your eyes as much as you can, to a poor sight; one of your boys, crying like it’ll make you not be bleeding, phone to his ear, talking.. you can barely hear out his words now, but you can read his lips one more time, “stay with me, mi amor”. 

Jake..

 You cling to him.  Him, his quirks, his hand holding yours, the feeling he gives you every time you look at him, all of him.

------

Steven switched out with Jake while connecting to emergency, as he was too panicked to talk. Eventually connecting to services, a man comes on the line. “It would take the closest ambulance twenty-minutes to get out there,” questioning if he it’d be faster to carry you to the nearest hospital or to wait, Jake hears voice too familiar behind him and you.

“Well, well. Appears as though we’ll lose another traveler tonight.”

“Khonshu. No- this.. this won’t be it, this can’t be the end.” His normally confident voice is shaking with nervousness.

“There’s almost no way out of this one, boy.”

“Almost?”  Jake asks, and he is silent. “Respóndeme!!”

Khonshu chuckles, “They would make a great avatar.”. Jakes faces drops, “you.. you surely wouldn’t?”, Marc’s voice echoes in their head,  i-it’s Khonshu, you can’t trust him to-

“Do whatever it takes.” Jake says, without listening, and steps out of the way. Khonshu moves toward their Y/N.  Your eyes open once more, and it’s like you finally see him.  Leaning down, he asks the question, “Do you swear to protect the travelers of the night and bring my vengeance to those who would do them harm?”

You don’t answer.

Jake looks at your chest, just making sure you’re still breathing, and you are.

“Do you swear–“  “yes” it comes out a small whisper, but the word means more than it should.

Khonshu laughs, then returns to his monologue, “then rise. Rise and live again. As my fist of vengeance,” with each word, Jake feels his heart break for you. “As my Moon Knight”

With a sudden glow in your eyes, and the suit comes on… you raise up into a sitting position.

“..Mi amor?” Jake gets down on one knee, you turns toward him. The head part of the suit goes back down, with tears in their eyes, “Jake…” You practically jumps into his arms, “I’m so sorry–“ 

“Shh, it’s okay, baby.” you start to bawl, you don’t even recognize that it’s probably now Marc you’re talking to. There’s short whispers of “i’m sorry”’s from you and “it’s okay”’s from him until he kisses you and just holds you, leaning in, and whispering sweet nothings in your ear, while Khonshu just watches over his new avatar..

[spideysbruh]

Gone Now

im a slut for flashbacks im sorry lol

tony stark's daughter (and peters gf) blip while they're on the planet and she's at home.

This can be read as y/n i just cant write in second person sorry lol hope you guys like the name riley.

~

"I like this dress the most, you would look great in it, Pepper!" Riley said as she flipped through wedding magazines in the compound.

All day today, Riley was trying to occupy her mind and not think about where her dad and boyfriend were doing right now. Peter had webbed her hand to the school bus they were on earlier and told her to stay there and get home as soon as possible. 

Riley was resting her head on Peters shoulder when he shot up and looked out the window, “Holy shit.” He mumbled and Riley looked up and over at Peter, “Stay here, okay baby?” He said quickly and turned around and told Ned something, but she was too busy staring at the giant circle spaceship in the sky.

“Pete, wh-”

“Stay here!” He exclaimed over all the commotion that Ned had caused, Riley watched as Peter opened the window and climbed out, “Just- let me know when you get home, okay?” 

Riley went to get out, considering her dad made her a suit as well, just in case, he had told her. “Peter you ca-” She was cut off by Peters web hitting her hand and making it stick to the bus.

“I’m sorry! I love you!” He yelled before swinging away.

“God damn it. Ned, can you help me?” 

So now she was here, trying to not think about her dad and boyfriend fighting some weird aliens. “Do you want to get married?” Pepper asked while pulling out more wedding ideas from a box she had.

Riley blushed and shrugged, “I dunno. To the right person, y’know? Just- one and done.” Pepper gave her a teasing smirk and they both giggled.

“Like to Peter? Is he the right one?”

Riley smiled and felt her heart tug at the mention of Peter, hopefully he’s okay. “I mean… yeah, he’s perfect! But- we’re still so young.” She replied and raised the magazine to cover her face.

“You guys do seem perfect together, but what do I know? It took me and Tony took forever to get together.” She laughed, Riley smiled and thought back to when her and Peter first met.

“Riley! Hey Riley!” Peter yelled, running up to her in the halls of their school.

Riley turned around, “Hi… Peter right?” She smiled and Peter nodded, his cheeks turning pink. She knew who he was.

“Y- yeah! I saw we had English together, I was wondering if you were willing to help me with my essay?”

“Why? Cause i’m Tony Starks kid? Honestly, just because he’s a genius, playboy- whatever the fuck, doesn’t mean I am too.” She joked, but Peter seemed to think she was serious.

“Uh, no no! I just saw that you had finished yours! I thought-”

“I know, Pete. I was joking… it came off serious- god I don’t know how my dad does it.” She sighed and Peter chuckled. “You can come today over after school? Is that cool with you?”

“Uh, y- your place?”

“Yeah. Or yours, wherever you like! Just let me know.”

“Um-”

“...Are you scared of my dad?”

“.. A little!” He answered honestly, Riley laughed and started walking to her next class.

“So my place it is. You can rip the bandaid off and maybe I can get you an internship with him!” She smiled, sending him a wink.

She knew he was Spider-Man. 

"Oh shit." He mumbled.

"I always thought we were weird together." She said honestly, "Like we don't make sense, y'know?"

"No way! You guys are both adorable little nerds who love to geek out over Star Wars and… hot celebrities! I don't know,  whatever you guys like." She smiled. Riley laughed and watched as Pepper reached for her glass of water.

"You think they're okay?" She asked, the mood switching to a more serious one. 

"I know they are. They'll take care of eachother. Don't worry, hun." Pepper reassured her, "I actually have something to tell you… um, now is probably not the right time, but-" She was cut off by her phone ringing, she sighed and picked up her phone. "Tony?"

Riley quickly sat up and motioned for her to put the phone on speaker, Pepper did it quickly and they both listened to the silence on the other end.

"Dad? Is everything okay? Where's Peter?" Riley asked, her heart hammering in her chest.

"God, kid. It's always about your spider boyfriend. What about your cool dad?" He joked, and the girls sighed in relief. "He's fine, by the way. Um- Thanos is- he's not here anymore. We think he went to Earth. So, here's what I need you to do-"

"Thanos?" Riley whispered and Pepper shrugged.

"I can't… lose you guys, not now. I need you two to promise me that you won't go to… wherever the team is and fight. I need you guys to stay home. Safe. Okay?"

"Tony, what is going on? Who is this Thanos guy?" Pepper questioned and Riley thought about how Peter is still out there. "And where are you?"

"I'll explain when I get home, I promise. Just please do what I asked. I gotta go okay? I love you girls." 

As fast as he had called, he hung up. 

~

About an hour later, the girls are still waiting for literally anything from any Avenger. 

"That's it! I'm gonna-"

"You're not leaving." Pepper said, flipping through a magazine, "Oooh I like these flowers."

Riley scoffed and walked towards her room, "I'm gonna try something." She called out and quickly typed something onto her computer. About a minute of typing led to her seeing where Peter and her dad were. 

"What the fuck?" She whispered, "Pepper?" 

"What is it, honey?" 

"Um… you gotta see this!" 

Pepper rushed to her room and looked at her computer. "How did you learn this?"

"Do you know who my dad is?" She smirked, Pepper let out an exhale and looked back at the screen.

"This says they're on an entirely different planet… I-"

"Well I mean, it could be wrong- it's not- but it could be." Riley shrugged and quickly typed some more before getting two earpieces from her drawer. "Only one way to find out." She said and handed one to Pepper. "Put that in."

"What- you're gonna connect to them and we'll be able to talk to them?" Pepper asked, watching the girl type so many codes and overrides.

"Mm yah. And it should work… right now." She said and pressed enter. "Hello? Peter? Dad?"

There was some static and then Tony's voice, "Oh my god, Riley?!" 

Pepper smiled and left the room to talk to Tony without interrupting Riley.

"Ri?! Oh my god- are you okay? How-” RIley smiled and felt her eyes water at Peters voice.

“C’mon, my dads a genius, I can hack into your guys earpieces.” She replied and Peter chuckled. “I’m so glad you’re okay, Peter… I- you left so quick-”

“I know, I’m sorry I just didn’t want you getting hurt, you didn’t have your suit and Mister Stark would’ve killed me!”

“Damn right.” Tony said and Riley laughed.

“When are you coming back?”

“I- I don’t know, baby. Thanos is- I almost had the gauntlet off but then- well, he left. He’s down there we think.”

“What’s gonna happen if the guys down here don’t defeat him?”

“Don’t worry about that, sweetie. We’ll figure it  out.” Tony said, Riley sighed.

“Talk to me about something else! What did you and Pepper do today?” Peter asked, he sounded cheerful but Riley knows it was just a front. He was just as scared. And he knew more than her. Riley exhaled and opened her blinds, letting the sunset hit her room, giving her room a nice orange glow.

“Well, we mainly looked at wedding magazines, saw some cute dresses.”

“Yeah?” Peter smiled, his heart swelling.

“Yeah,” Riley giggled, and leaned forward, staring out the window, “Just wedding planning, I have a whole pinterest board for the wed- what the fuck?” 

“What?!” Peter exclaimed.

“Oh my god! Pete, there’s something happening…”

“Oh, f- Riley, baby what do you see?” Peter asked, tears already coming down his face as nothing but fear overtook his heart and mind.

“What is it, Riley?” Tonys voice came in.

“It… looks like… dust?”

That made Peters heart stop, it happened. He looked behind him and saw as Mantis slowly disappeared, he choked on the air and 

“Dad?... What’s happening?” Riley whimpered, watching as people disappeared on the streets below her, she heard a crash but didn’t dare look up at the sky.

“Riley, honey, it’ll be okay- j- just breathe, like I taught you, remember?”

Riley took in one deep breath and held it for a few seconds before letting it out.

“Dad, I’m scared.” Riley cried and looked at her legs, they were still there. Then her arms, all good.

“Don’t- it’s okay, Riley, you’re okay.”

“Peter?” She whispered, like she was afraid it would happen to her if she spoke any louder.

“Y- yeah, Ri?” Peter sighed, trying to focus on Rileys voice.

“You remember the first time we hung out?” She giggled, looking down at her legs again.

It started.

No pain.

“Yeah, baby.” He laughed, wiping at his face and nose. He felt something was off with her, he knew it was happening.

“You needed help with your essay, but we just ended up arguing over which Star Wars movie is the best?” She smiled as it spread up to her waist, she was half gone.

Peter chuckled, “Yeah. I just had to get to know you better. You were too cute. I didn’t care about the essay.” He replied softly, Tony smiled at their conversation.

Riley giggled, “Peter?... I love you. I know I don’t tell you that enough but- I do. I really love y-” 

She was gone. All that he heard now was static and the eerie wind behind him. Tony walked up to him and pulled him in for a hug. All while also letting himself cry.

“Fuck!” Peter yelled, falling to his knees and gripping onto Tonys arm.

“We’ll get her back, Parker. I promise.” He mumbled, his hearing zoning out as heard Pepper walk into Rileys now empty room. He could hear faintly, “Oh my god!”

“Pepper! You stay there, alright? I can’t lose you t-”

“Uh, Mr. Stark?”

*

[angelofthenight]

The Monster You Created Pt.5

(Sam Fortner x Reader)

Warnings: Yandere!Sam, Dark themes, Swearing, Kidnapping situation, Unreciprocated love, Sexual references, Reference to Non-Con, Brief flashback, YN gets triggered by thunderstorms from PTSD, YN is almost on the brink of Stockholm Syndrome, Denialism

Word Count: 2.7k (sorry it’s shorter than usual)

Table of Contents

~

You quick a sip of water in between bites of the lunch at the same time as Sam opening his door back up enough for him to slip out. You didn’t pay much attention to that and continued to eat until you saw through your peripheral vision that Sam was pulling a big black box out. It wasn’t until he fully pulled it out that you realized it was one of your requests: a T.V.

Your eyes lit up like a child on Christmas morning as he pulled it a little further to the left of the room from the middle and then dragged one of the unused small and short tables over to it. He hoisted the television up onto the table and got all the chords settled into an outlet, all while you happily watched and tried to prevent your smile from growing too big.

The T.V was, of course, out of your chained reach probably because Sam was worried you’d use it against him. As if you could even steadily throw that thing. Sam pulled the remote from his back pocket that turned on the screen before taking a seat to eat the lunch he hadn’t touched yet. “What do you wanna watch?” He asked as he flipped through channels while he took fleeting bites of the food, still feeling a little energized from his secret affair with your underwear in his room.

You decided to save the news channel for when you were alone, wanting to see if they’ve released anything about your disappearance. But for now you decided to take it easy. “Are there any good movies on?” You asked as you wiped your hands with the napkin once you finished eating. Sam flipped through some of the movie channels to reveal nothing entertaining, he knew your taste like the back of his hand just by listening to you rant to him about films you enjoyed as you worked.

“There usually isn’t any in the middle of the day.” He commented before saying, “I have a lot recorded though.” The T.V switched to the section of his recordings to reveal a list of your favorite movies and shows. You quirked a brow at this. “Is it a coincidence that we have the same exact taste in film?” You asked, making a face.

Sam rolled his shoulders a bit awkwardly. “It’s not. Every time I see a movie or show come on and I remember you talking about how much you liked it, I always record it. One reason being I just wanted to check it out, another reason being because I want to understand all the references you make, and the last reason…” He looked over to your distracted face. “I just want to know about every little thing you love.”

Your eyes scanned the rows of movies you only vaguely remember mentioning, some you couldn’t even recall if you even ever brought up around him. “I don’t know if I should be flattered or creeped out that you remembered so many of these.” You honestly said, though you weren’t complaining. Sam still stared directly at you, resembling someone standing and staring at a sculpture in an art museum for a long period of time. “There isn’t a single thing I don’t remember about you.” He mumbled dreamily, his tone almost daring you to quiz him on his knowledge on you. You honestly didn’t want to know his test score.

You felt his eyes burn into the side of your head, so intensely that you felt as if your head was starting to sting. Your senses relaxed once you caught the sight of a movie you had been in the mood for recently. “Can we watch ‘Fargo’? Oh my god, that’s one of my all time favorite movies.” You exclaimed as a smile jumped up on your face, your eyes widening with a burst of life.

Sam tore his eyes off your magnetic features to the T.V. “Yeah, of course.” He said as he clicked on the movie’s cover which changed the screen to the opening credits. He looked back over to see you instantly watching intently and holding back a smile over your own excitement. The sight made Sam smile too, if the two of you kept this up then you’d probably be engaged in no time!

Sam had always wanted to watch a movie with you. With your exceeding knowledge on films and their deep meanings partnered with your humor, he knew you were the ideal movie watching partner. And he was right. You quite talked a lot during the movie, he didn’t blame you though as you did have a fixated interest with it which made you want to talk about it nonstop. He loved it. He loved hearing you mindlessly ramble to him as if he was the only other person in the world who knew about it.

Just like now as a young Steve Buscemi chatted up a storm on screen, you gleefully opened your mouth again. “Did you know that Steve Buscemi had more than 150 lines in this movie? It was a running joke with the directors and they added it into The Big Lebowski where Buscemi’s character was constantly being told to ‘shut the fuck up’. God, I love it when directors have fun jokes like that with their actors.” You ranted passionately as you laced your fingers together and rested your chin on them, your elbows on your knees.

Sam would be lying if he said he wasn’t jealous of the movie; the way you watched it and talked about it. He wanted that admiring wonderstruck look on your face directed towards him, which caused him to fortuitously ask, “Can I kiss you?”

Your head snapped in his direction, that previous ardent expression dropping with heavy weight as your gaze sharpened a glare on him. Sam avoided that hateful stare and nodded his head. “Bleeding lip, yeah, yeah, I got it.” He sneakily looked back up to see you had returned to watching the movie except a frown took the place of your small smile and you looked more annoyed.

Sam’s legs bounced a little anxiously as his thumb pinched and kneaded the skin on his hand. He looked back up to you with a curious yet sad emotion etched into his eyebrows. “Someday though, right?” You were quiet for a bit, just trying to enjoy the movie with an aggravated expression and hunched back so that you were closer to the screen. “I don’t know.” You sighed with a nonchalant shoulder shrug.

Sam nodded as he pressed his lips together, his eyes returning to his fiddling hands. “That’s alright.” He mumbled the rest of his sentence. “Eventually, I’m gonna stop asking.”

You heard him though. And it was enough to turn the knob of the oven of your anger. You whipped yourself back over to fiercely glare at him again. “No, because remember you swore to me you would never touch me without my permission, remember?” You stated furiously.

“That’s only if you don’t fight me.” Sam refuted, still not looking back up at you, but that only poked at your temper. “No. I said if you don’t touch me without my consent then I won’t fight back.” You growled, wanting so badly to punch him in the face for trying to twist the promise around so that it was accurate to his own desires. That was the main thing you hated about Sam since the first night you woke up in his basement; how hugely controlling he was. And it was in a way that made it feel like playing a board game with a child who keeps changing the rules to ensure that they win.

He finally turned to look at you, his gaze a little harsher than you expected. “But you can’t keep me away from you for too long. I don’t think you really understand that I have a problem with self control. It’s the whole reason I’m in therapy.”

You flinched, making a twisted shocked face. “Wait. You’re in therapy? Why didn’t you tell me? This whole time you’ve kind of been treating me like I’m your therapist.” Sam shied his eyes back down to the ground. “Sorry. I guess I just kinda trust you more than my therapist, I feel more comfortable around you. And now that you’re here and know the truth, I can finally be myself with you.” He explained, skipping over your question on why he didn’t tell you he was in therapy.

He felt your wary eyes still on him. He glanced over to you. “My therapist doesn’t know you’re down here if that’s what you’re thinking.” He said before shifting his attention back toward the movie, leaving you mentally cursing yourself for getting a little too hopeful over that.

~

“I’ve been to 27 of them.”

You whipped yourself on your core to face Sam who sat at the dining counter that faced where you made the smoothies. The whole brand of your place of work was that it was supposed to be a friendly environment and all the employees were required to make small talk with the customers, thus why there was a dining counter right next to the counter where you blended the smoothies.

“You’re kidding!” You said with a backbone gasp over how many Kenny Chesney concerts Sam has been to. Sam shook his head with a smile. “27’s not even a lot. My friend Shane, he's gone to 78.” He spun his finger next to his head which erupted a laugh from you. “So they must be really fun.” You said as you slowly returned to the smoothie you were making but paying most of your attention still on Sam.

Sam nodded enthusiastically. “They are. He has so much fun on stage and the crowd gets a little rowdy but it’s, it’s awesome.” You nodded in understanding as you took a pause in the conversation to loudly blend the drink. Once it was finished you continued to ask questions about one of his favorite things. “Didn’t you say earlier that his fans have, like, a community?”

“Yeah, No Shoes Nation.” Sam clarified and you nodded in remembrance. “It’s a community and a lifestyle. It's peaceful. Everybody's happy. The central idea of No Shoes Nation…” you didn’t realize he paused to admire the look of concentration on your face as you poured the smoothie into a plastic cup, “is love.” Before your brain could register his quiet words he quickly threw in, “I think you’d fit right in.”

A smile stretched your lips as you looked back up at him in wonder. “Me? Really? Do I give off a hippie vibe?” Sam chuckled as he fiddled with his hands, a habit you’ve noticed he did a lot around you. “No, I mean, like, you… you’re a very zen person and I think you’d have a blast if you ever went.”

You let his words linger in the air for a little bit until you capped the drink in front of you and stabbed a straw through the middle. “Well, if you ever need someone to tag along with you, I’ll give it a shot.” You reached for the pen and paper near the cash register as he watched. “Let me give you my number.”

~

You searched for the man from that day in the person that sat across from you eating dinner. He still acted just like he always did but just a lot more relaxed, probably from the weight of his secret lifted off his back. You had only been taking slow bites from the food, it was just very hard for you to relax because of the thunderstorm that surrounded the house. Each rumble and crack made you subtly flinch or make your shoulders tightly tense or the breath hitch in your mouth.

You weren’t exactly afraid of storms, your body was just very sensitive to the abrupt and loud noises that came with it. When people pointed it out you plainly said you were easily startled, even though that wasn’t the truth at all. It dated back to when you were a kid and your dad still lived with you. He threw a party at your house with all his friends. And because you just wouldn’t stay in your room, he locked you in the shed in the backyard as a severe thunderstorm was taking place.

He forgot you were in there so you were trapped in the shed all night long. The shed would shake and basically amplified every sound from the storm. That traumatic night for eight year old you permanently scarred your nervous system, ptsd staining your senses every single thunderstorm.

Sam finally looked up to catch your empty stare tied to him. He quickly swallowed his food to ask, “What’re you thinking about?” You still stared at him, almost studying his curious features as your mind was reeled back from recalling that day full of concert talk. “Nothing, just…” you tilted your head in wonder, “you never did text me when I gave you my number.”

Sam darted his eyes back down to his food, pursing his lips in flushed embarrassment. “Oh… yeah. Sorry. I, uh, everytime I tried to text you I would just… overthink it and then I would panic and… yeah.” He said as he played with his food with his plastic fork. You slowly nodded. If it weren’t for your circumstance, it would’ve been a cute thought of how Sam was too flustered to text you.

An unexpected crack of lightning was followed by a long rumble of thunder, maken you stiffen and shrink with a quiet gasp as you squeezed your eyes shut. That was a bad one. It was so bad you couldn’t even hide your alarmed recoil and wince. Sam’s brows curved upward in worry at the sight. “You okay?”

The muscles in your face slowly relaxed and unwinded from the scrunch of your eyes. “Yeah, yeah, I’m fine, that just-” Your lies were exposed when another thunderclap roared in your eardrums and made you feel that it shook the walls like leaves. Your shoulders tensely hunched and you cowered back into another trembling ball, your face looking as if you just received a forced shot from the doctor.

Sam instantly realized the problem and hurriedly rose to his feet. “Hang on, I have just the thing for you.” He hastily ran into his room and scrambled around his room as if he was searching for a first aid kit as you bled out. You didn’t realize he came back, as your eyes were still squeezed shut, until he carefully sat next to you on the bed and softly planted something around your head.

Your hands instantly reached up to where his hands previously were near your ears to touch what he had put on you. You felt the solid cushions around your ears and your eyes opened to look over to Sam, who you have never been this physically close to. Your knees were touching and you could feel his breath fan down on your face. He lifted one of the cups off your ear to say, “Noise canceling headphones.”

He heard the distant rumbling and quickly slid the big cup back over your ear. The thunder barraged over and you pressed the headphones harder against your ears until it passed. You slowly looked back up to Sam whose gaze never parted from you. All you did was stare at each other as a strange aura surrounded the two of you, breathing in each other’s air.

When you stared up at Sam, whose face was merely inches away from yours, all you could see was the cutely awkward but amiable man who came in almost every other shift you worked just to talk to you and listen to you. The man whose company you looked forward to everyday and always had an eye on the door that was ready to greet him at any minute.

The fact of his murderous hobby almost felt fake to you, just words with no meaning or depth. Like a puzzle with unmatched pieces. Was he really capable of violently taking a life? It just didn’t seem… real to you. And there were multiple times where you had even forgotten he had even mentioned it.

Taglist: @alices-halcyon @katlover63 @valareina

[jinkicake]

Sigh as it’s kazuha’s belated birthday I have let him take up residence in my head😔 so he’s rotting my brain. I absolutely adore how unhinged he is like he can be all flowery and softboy but he likes surprises so he just flips between his 12 personality traits so when you think you know him he says uno reverse and makes you think he’s a stranger again. Like he gives true switch behavior bc he FR doesn’t care he just wants to feel good and make his partner feel good, like he’s all about getting lost in the passion. Loves to see his lovers face contort in pleasure and tears gather at the corners of their eyes that are pleading him to touch them, and on the flip side teasing them unfairly so they will top him just as hard😔💕 like he’s an undercover brat so he pretends to follow instructions but with a smirk on his face that makes you feel your not really who’s in control here so you gotta break him. Definitely into drunk sex and that summer event proves it he’s a handsy drunk. Feel like he’s good at hiding how tipsy he is so when your head gets fuzzy he’s leaning in to tell you how good you look. Bc he’s a soft looking boy I imagine people are taken by surprise but he’s been traveling and w Beido no less so he’s SEEN some stuff. Will be calm and steady when coming onto people so they can back out anytime but also bc he wants you to say it. He really gives “ I said what I said vibes” so he will look you straight in the eye all bored while enjoying the weather and Be like

“ I can only imagine how cute you would look underneath me. Unless you’d rather be on top? You don’t have to be so gentle with me. You can hurt me if you’d like. After all, I don’t break very easily”

Like i would like to volunteer my throat for this man if he needs to blow off steam😮‍💨 like he is very upfront with his feelings and needs, he is down for anything you want to try and FR probably has more experience than you. Want to try bondage? Well he just so happens to have studied shibari for a while 😊 how convenient. I can feel his stare across the room like my god dude people are out here??? Walk up and wraps his around around you and you like oh normal conversation! NOPE without even FLINCHING kazuha is just casually talking about how deep he wants to be inside you like he’s talking about the weather. While his patience is not thin he does have buttons you can press to get him to “discipline” you🥰 like oh no he wants this to REALLY teach you a lesson so he’s gunna rail you behind some boxes like the crew aren’t just out of earshot. Won’t even attempt to cover you mouth, like nah you can be quiet yourself 🥴 if anyone comes over they definitely know not to unless they want to see you get filled up by him:// listening to the wind for footsteps >>> on the flip side my patience IS very thin so he definitely works my nerves and when it’s like “ I’m gunna fuck you up chill out” he will just give you this smug ass look that’s like “please do💕” so ig I have no choice🙄😒 likes to be restrained or told he can’t touch bc he will beg for permission. Literally a slut I will not debate will be under you w his hair down and clothes just open like an unwrapped present. Literally the type of little shit to make you cockwarm him at like dinner surrounded by everyone and they’re like “awww he wants to be close to you how cute” Beidou is starring right at you right in the eyes as kazuha gives a sudden thrust and she’s struggling not to laugh( they can share me respectfully 😔 captain gets to have everything on their ship) imma bite him. Also bc I saw this comic where the shogun has him tied up and is like “🙄 your friend was better” so I can put aside my deep dislike for her so that she can tease me infront of kazuha as he is unable to get free as he watches helplessly “look at you. i’ve only started using my fingers and you’re already shakin, humans are very intresting” AYO ACTUALLY BC THE PUPPET IS MEAN EI CAN BE THERE 💕 she’s nicer😔🙏🏿

happy late birthday dear kazuha LOL ~~~

on his birthday i literally thought about you and the scenario of beidou pegging him LMFAOOOOOOOOO i hope he enjoys that bc i know i certainly would.

we all saw how aggressive he was in fighting raiden (the puppet?, i dont fucking remember LMAO) so yeah he's both sweet sub and sweet dom,,,, mmm yeah! also HEAVYYYY ON THE DRUNK SEX,,,,, YEAHHHHHH we know how he gets out of it in two seconds like come on he'll be on you in two sips with his hands roaming up and down your sides,, he'd be so needy!!!! your in-depth analysis of switch!kazuha is one i can get behind! also heavy on the bondage hed do that

i feel like kazuha would fuck you in front of everyone on the ship also.... as a punishment.... i dunnooooooo,,, i dunoo would he be into that?!

YOU DONT LIKE THE SHOGUN EITHERRRR???? damn this is like the first person ive found to dislike her besides ME... dont get me wrong shes hot but i have my reasons but also..... mean puppet, i kinda dont hate it? ei also pisses me off but not as much LOL fine id fuck the puppet there i said it

kazuha would CRY REAL TEARS if the puppet was pleasuring you and he could do nothing about it like i feel like he'd rage lose his mind and go fucking psycho-.... that actually sounds like a good idea.... hmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm maybe it just sounds like a good idea since i like the psychos?

[iamthecomet]

Hi Comet! Do you have any advice on getting more involved in the Ghost fandom? I’m mostly just reblogging things because I’m too self conscious to post my original works/headcanons/etc. but I want to be more active and make friends and I’m not sure how -A

Hi!! Yes! I can do my best to help! I've been chewing on this for a little while trying to figure out what I want to say--and the best way to say it. But it still might be a little disjointed--I have a lot of thoughts. The biggest one is: talk to people. Send people asks. Reblog stuff and add your two cents. Insert yourself in conversations (this one is scary, I know). Tell people how much to love the things they're creating. You don't have to do it off anon if you don't want to, we have plenty of anons who are staples in the community who we know only by their signatures, and they're no less a part of it than people who talk off anon. This community is full of an unbelievable amount of love and support. It is constantly surprising me with just how warm it is. I love talking to people, I LOVE when new people show up in my ask box (usually at the strangest times, it's wonderful). And I will make space in this community for you--in whatever capacity you need me to. That being said.

You should post your stuff. You should post your works and your headcanons. Because those things drive conversation to you. And look. This community LOVES fics, and artwork, and headcanons. We go fucking FERAL over them. Head canons are a GREAT place to start. I could literally talk about them all day. Once I start I have to force myself to shut up. And I'm not the only one.

In fact, send ME your headcanons. I NEED THEM (do it on anon if it makes it less nerve-wracking, but I WANT them I want to talk to you about them!). And I KNOW it's terrifying. When I wrote Flip of a Switch I buried it in my documents so deep I hoped I would forget it existed and tried to tell myself that writing it was enough (it wasn't). I hadn't written fanfiction in ten years. The idea of having other people look at it made me physically ill. And then I didn't forget about it. and I looked at it. over and over again. And then, I still don't know what possessed me to do it, I posted it. And then it got a couple kudos, and no one commented on it for a LONG time (until well after I'd posted other fics). And I told myself I was done, ghost brain rot conquered (lies). But then I resurrected my ancient Tumblr, and looked at this community longingly (like pressing my face against the glass to look inside). And then I wrote another fic. And I tried to wiggle my way into conversations with varying results. And then I wrote the boot fucking fic (it's my claim to fame at this point, god damn it), and things...just...happened after that. It wasn't all the fics, but they helped. They opened up conversations and relationships. Posting my stuff made it easier to talk to people (because I had something to talk ABOUT). It's REALLY hard to take the leap. It feels impossible. I know the doubt is LOUD. But believe me, we WANT your works, we want your headcanons. We want YOU. There is more than enough room in this community for you and we are SO happy you're here. You are a part of it already, I promise you, even if you don't feel like it yet. And, if you want to share your stuff with a test audience before you put it all the way out there--you can always DM me about it (or about anything else). I'm sorry this turned into an essay. And I really hope it's helpful. And if anyone else had other advice, feel free to chime in. ♥♥

[fourseasonsfigs]

Fig Fashion Week - LV Blue Ice Jun

We continue our high-style event with Gong Jun looking regal at the Louis Vuitton Aranya Men's Show on September 16, 2022.

This seriously seems like yesterday! The inspiration for this fig is so good - through sheer willpower I'll keep myself from using all my 30 pic slots with photos from this event. That being said, I'll start off with the fig maker's own inspiration photo:

His legs look a mile long, don't they?? Alright, just a few more...

Did you notice the shimmery blue insect in his hair? It's not a fashion piece, it's just nature's jewelry.

Ok just one more...

No wait, we need a black and white pic to show off his immaculate face:

Alright, I realized it would be criminal (criminal!) not to include some of Realge's pics, he takes the best pictures...

Ok ok, that's it for pics. We now just have a video, since this is very relevant for one of the others posts coming up this week...

Oh ho ho! Gong Jun admiring this fancy green explosion of color!

Stay tuned for that later! Today is this gorgeous blue number:

The details on this fig! His hairstyle is gorgeous (can I just say, I'm so glad they've figured out that volume is key on Junjun's hair, his hair has been nothing but fantastic recently!) - all sideswept and full of volume at the crown of his head. His supermodel stare. His Wen Kexing hand behind his back (I can't help but call it that!). The details of the print on the LV t-shirt. The fantastic detail on the jacket, and of course all the ombre blue. The angles on the wrinkles on his jeans! His shoes! These are indeed very specific, very beautiful white leather LV boots. So great.

Gah his hair looks fantastic here in fig form! Kudos kudos kudos to this fig maker, they just absolutely nailed it. Look at all the 3-D dimension on his jacket! The little flip up there on the bottom of his jean jacket as he very elegantly tucks his hand behind his back.

I really love it when fig makers put the ear mole on these figs. Just a wonderful little touch. I also really like all the folds the fig maker did on the fabric on this whole outfit. You really get a sense of the stiffness and structure of the material.

Look at those boots! Let me dig them up from the LV site...

Oh wow, that's incredible. The LV Baroque Ranger Boot. I think I'm in love. It's only pictured in black right now on their site (and is unavailable), but it's gorgeous. It's like, well, a very baroque Doc Martens. I like black! Does it...come in women's sizes?

Nope. Ah well. Moving on!

This Wen Kexing pose takes some time to get used to, I must say. I tried strolling around the beach like this last fall, and it is not a normal position for my shoulder to be at. Normal is more hunched over my computer typing away at work. I realized I could really stand to walk around with either or both hands (or switching off!) behind my back, frankly. It's a good chest opener, as my Pilates instructor would say.

This is a perfect angle to see the GJ initials instead of the LV logo on his jacket back.

Those boots look really small from this angle. Small but sturdy! He actually balances very well on those very fancy feet.

He certainly is cute a cold male god! Gosh he looks great.

These fine, fine boots, and a great angle to see the folds on his jeans.

More little details (I really do like these boots!). May I just say how much I like Junjun in white and blue. He's spectacularly beautiful in any color and any most prints (this is where my BFF reminds me of Junjun in the 361 red rabbit inspired pattern sweater, which we have to agree not even Junjun can save), but I have to say I particularly like him in these colors. It's just so crisp and clean.

(And pink! I do like him in pink.)

That glorious swoop of hair is indeed spectacular. A+ Junjun hair modeling!

This box card and the art on the box is extremely beautiful. You can tell it's the same fig maker that does all the wonderful JZEU figs because she always has gorgeous boxes.

Come back tomorrow for the blue-and-white matching Zhehan!

Material: PVC

Fig Count: 332

Scene Count: 24

Rating: He certainly is cute a cold male god!

[link back to Master Fig Index for more posts]

[sticks-and-stone]

Crescent Lake Conservation Area

September 16, 2022 through September 18, 2022

Three months had passed since the Dutton Island overnight trip and our lives changed so much. I moved out of my second floor apartment, canceled my storage unit, and moved into a single story house with a two car garage. Jenna laid her father to rest, got a new job, and fell into a good routine. Naturally, after months of real life being hectic, we were more than ready for another camping trip. 

I went on to the St. Johns River Water Management District website and found an opening at the Crescent Lake Conservation Area. This was a new one for us, but I picked it because it was only about an hour and half away. My new place is about 15 minutes from Jenna’s house now, so traveling to and from camping trips became much easier. 

We both worked full work days on Friday so I met her at her house when we both got off and we departed from there. It took us closer to 2 hours to get there due to some traffic and frequent stops, but we finally arrived at the gate at about 8:30pm. After dark, as usual. On our way out there we kept stopping to look for some place to buy firewood. We had very little luck and had given up on it entirely when we came across a Winn Dixie. We walked inside and they had a huge pallet of bagged firewood on sale! This was our first good omen. Jenna and I tend to ride the vibes for camping pretty well. We keep a good attitude and good luck seems to come our way. This trip would be no different. Maybe even luckier than normal. The camping gods were on our side helping us celebrate the 3rd anniversary of our camping adventures!  

Once we got to the gate at the campsite, Jenna struggled to get it open so I took a crack at it and got it on the first try. Another good omen. The campsite was positioned about two miles from the gate along this long winding path just wide enough for my car. Once we arrived we saw the port-a-potty first and then a giant opening with a centralized fire pit surrounded by 4 benches, a standing grill, and a huge pavilion with 3 picnic tables and a fireplace. This place was stunning even in the dark. 

We pulled up next to the pavilion and before we even had time to get out of the car, Jenna said “there are lights in here!”. Our third, and most amazing good omen. We got out of the car and found the light switch at the back wall. We flipped the switch and the entire building illuminated. Right below the switch was an electrical outlet. This free campsite had full electricity! And here we were without the Electric Gear Box.

Ecstatic about our discovery, we were no longer stressed about arriving after dark. We took our time unloading the car and setting up. Jenna started with the fire, as that is her specialty while I unloaded the bins from the car and started organizing our space in this pavilion. It rained the whole time we were unloading, but it bothered us none. We were already so in love with this site and we had full cover from the rain. 

One of the tasks for this weekend was finding a decent bug repellent, so I laid them all out on one of the tables and started testing them out. The lights of the pavilion attracted plenty of bugs so I had an easy time figuring out which ones worked and which ones didn’t. We used these incense stick things propped up in an empty monster energy drink can. Those worked the best. But we also had an assortment of sprays, lotions, and roll-ons. 

Jenna had a hard time getting the fire started in the fireplace, so I took over while she started hanging her hammock between the posts of the pavilion. She was testing out a new sleep system this weekend as well. She has really taken to hammocking over the past year or so. 

At first, I had the fire going really well, but eventually I over-aerated it like I usually do and it went out. In frustration, I gave up. Jenna finished her hammock and took back over the fire and I got to work on my own sleep system. I was staying in my hiking tent since the cabin tent was still broken from my party weekend at Dutton Island, 3 months prior. I had never set up my tent on concrete and I had to get creative about staking it down. I ran paracord from the corners and staked them down in the ground outside the pavilion and tied a few off to tables inside. This looked okay and worked fine, but proved to be a bad idea later. What I should have done was set up outside the pavilion and hang my tarp over me for rain protection. I learned a good lesson. 

Once we got our tents and beds all set up, we sat at one of the picnic tables and pulled out our playing cards. Jenna spent the next hour or so kicking my ass in gin. Defeated, humbled, and exhausted, I retired to my tent. Jenna climbed up into her hammock soon after. I saw a couple of gnats in my tent, but they came in while I was crawling in. The tent itself did a great job keeping out the bugs. 

Jenna realized deep into the night that the poles she hung her hammock from were too close together. She ended up sleeping basically folded in half and nearly touching the ground. 

I awoke the next morning at about 7:15 without an alarm. My need to pee usually wakes me up while we’re camping. I’ve never needed an alarm. I attempted to use the port-a-potty but was startled by a tree frog trapped in there with me. I wouldn’t use it again the entire weekend. I don’t think that Jenna used it either. It was gross and in a private campsite like this one with no neighbors, relieving ourselves wouldn’t be an issue. 

Once I was back at our pavilion, I pulled out the kettle and single burner butane attachment and started on my coffee. I also made hot lemon water to help warm me up. It wasn’t cold, but it was chillier in the morning than I had planned for. I brought my laptop along this time to try and get some writing done, so I pulled that out and by 8am I was typing away, working on camping trip reflections from the months passed. 

I was up and writing for about an hour when Jenna woke up. Though I enjoyed the time to myself and my writing, I was grateful when she woke up! We chatted for a little bit and she helped me fill in a couple of blanks in my memory from our trips of the past. I took a break from writing to make myself some pancakes. Jenna opted for a protein bar. 

On a whim, we decided to see how close a spring was to our campsite. As it turned out, we were about 30 minutes from the Ocala National Forest which is home to 3 of my favorite springs! We decided on Juniper Springs since it had great hiking and Jenna had never been. So we packed up only what we needed and took off! 

We got to the park, paid the fee for day passes, and immediately hit the trails. We wanted to beat the forecasted rain. Before we started on the trails, we walked through the old water mill museum that they had onsite. The best trail started behind the mill, but there were maintenance guys there with the access blocked off, forcing us to go around the trail that runs through the campground there. We hiked for just a couple of miles and checked out Juniper Springs Campground. It is definitely on my wish list for camping.

Once we had our hearts’ fill of hiking, we came back to the car to cool off and had a quick snack. It started sprinkling a bit, but since we were off the trail, we didn’t really mind. We walked over to the restrooms and changed into our bathing suits. The air was chilly and damp, but we were going to swim in this spring no matter what. 

We swam for only long enough to cool our bodies down and then booked it out of there as the rain began to fall more heavily. We dried off by the car as best we could and then just laid towels on our seats and rode back to camp in damp bathing suits. As soon as we left the park the rain stopped and we were able to open up the windows and air-dry on the way back to the campsite. 

Once we arrived back at camp about mid-afternoon, Jenna got the fire going again and moved her hammock to the other side of the campsite between two trees. She struggled for a while to find the right spot and even the one she settled on gave her tons of problems. One thing about Jenna is that once she sets her mind to something, she gets it done. Getting this hammock up in a better spot was no different. 

While she worked on her sleep system, I worked on mine. I didn’t want to sleep in a rigged up hiking tent when it functions far better when anchored into the ground as designed. So I worked on getting it taken down so that I could move it to the field next to the trees where Jenna was setting up. 

The heaviest of the rain had passed us, but we were still expecting a small amount in the wee hours that night. My hiking tent is advertised as fully rain-proofed and I was excited to put that to the test. But that didn’t matter because as I was un tying it from the picnic table that it was anchored to, the top cross-over pole snapped clean in half. There was no way I was going to set it up to full functionality now. 

Luckily, Jenna still carried her hiking tent in her backpack and I was able to borrow it. So got that set up and put my sleeping pad and bag inside and covered it in the rain fly. This tent had already proven to keep Jenna dry during rainy nights, so I was grateful for the security but incredibly bummed about my tent. 

Dinner time was approaching so we left our sleep systems to go back to the pavilion (about 50 yards away) and started working on food. We brought the smoldering fire back to a blaze and I got back out the laptop and started back into writing. I made it through 3 camping trip reflections on this trip and I am never camping (at least car camping) without my laptop again.

Jenna cooked a sloppy joe Hellofresh meal that Laura had sent home with me earlier that week. Probably a top 3 meal that I’ve had while camping if I’m being honest. We have cultivated a near-perfect kitchen system in our car camping gear that there isn’t much limit to what we can make for a meal. 

Several trips back we decided to stop over-planning and overpacking for our meals at camp. Instead, we have switched to just planning on one big meal, typically Saturday night, and just snacking around the other meal times. I’ll still bring pancakes cuz they’re easy, but no more of the eggs-bacon-full lunch spread-huge dinner-second-breakfast deal. Now it’s simplified, far less expensive, less wasteful, and usually far higher quality. One of the many ways this trip helped us prove our skills that we had cultivated over the last three years. 

I cleaned up after dinner and wrote for another hour or so, but became exhausted very quickly. I retired to my tent (Jenna’s tent) by 9pm and was asleep soon after. 

I remember waking up quite frequently that night. I was nervous about bears for some reason. I just couldn’t shake the thought of one wandering up to camp, trying to get into my car or god forbid my tent. Jenna was within ear shot but this was the farthest apart that we’d set up our tents. So her presence wasn’t felt and the sinking feeling of being alone was. I must have been able to shake it, because I don’t remember anything else until I woke up at 3am with the sudden urge to pee. The pavilion (and the spot behind the solid wall where I had been doing my business earlier in the day and the night before) felt a million miles away. So I just stepped 20 paces away from the tent and squatted right out in the open and complete dark. 

The next morning I was up by 730. This time, I didn’t write or make coffee, I just pulled the tent and its contents to the pavilion and began the process of cleaning and packing away gear. Jenna joined me soon after and wordlessly, nearly effortlessly, we repacked the gear, exchanged the items we usually end up swapping on accident (or in the case, borrowed tents), and got the car organized in a matter of an hour. 

This is an impressive feat because normally I spend Sundays re-itemizing the gear lists and moving gear around from one bin to another. Sometimes I do away with bins all together and consolidate others, but this time felt very different. I didn’t change a thing. For once, there was no instance during the camping trip that made me think I could pack something better. The only thing I changed was how I separate the check lists out by type of camping:

Summer Primitive

Summer Glamping

Winter Primitive 

Winter Glamping

Backpacking

The type of camping that we’re going to be doing will dictate which bins we bring. For example, summer primitive camping means we’re going to be camping somewhere without electricity when it's warm outside. So I don’t need to bring the electric gear bin or my sleeping bag, but I will bring a sleeping bag liner or a top sheet instead. But the summer glamping type would mean we do have electricity, so I'll bring the electric gear but still use a sheet instead of a sleeping bag. The gear works basically the same in the winter, but I would bring a sleeping bag and for the winter glamping trips: a heater. The backpacking type is just that. The hiking backpack.

The hiking backpack contains a lot of core gear including my hiking tent, so it comes on all the trips. Primitive and Glamping just means we can bring the car to the site, so we can carry the bins that are needed for that weekend. I like this system a lot. I hope it sticks.  

Happy and content with our re-introduction into the forest, we hit the road to go home by 8:30. We stopped at Dunkin for a celebratory breakfast and iced coffee - our favorite way to reintegrate back into society. I had Jenna home by 10 and myself home by 10:30. It took me no time at all to unload the already-organized bins from my car to their spot in the garage. I emptied the contents of the cooler into my fridge and put the now thawed ice packs back in the freezer. I started doing laundry before taking a shower and a well-earned nap. 

This was the most satisfying feeling I had felt after a camping trip in a very long time. Reflecting on it brings me much joy and encouragement to keep going. I feel like the stress around camping that I was experiencing had a lot to do with my living arrangements and how difficult it was to pack and unpack from trips. It may have also been the frustration of getting my packing system JUST right. And the satisfaction of feeling like I have finally, after 3 years, accomplished that felt unbelievably gratifying. I am excited for the trips ahead of us. I finally feel like we are entering a new stage of our camping adventures. 

Stay Dirty, 

Stone. 

[baroquebucky]

fool for you

bucky just wants to be with you forever

word count: 1.9k

masterlist

a/n: hi bffs !! hope u are all well <33 pls enjoy this v fluffy one shot inspired by own post :’ ) let me know what u all think !!

You were tired, your eyelids felt heavy and you struggled to pay attention to the tv. Your head falling to the side as you drifted off, eyes shooting open when you realized you were falling asleep. You got up quickly, splashing your face with water and settling back on the couch, rubbing your eyes and focusing on the tv again.

1:57 a.m.

You checked your phone in hopes of a “five minutes away :)” text from bucky, but there was none. You yawned again and changed the channel, flipping through some channels to try to wake you up before deciding to just switch to netflix instead.

You smiled as your favorite show played, nuzzling into the blanket bucky had given you and focusing on the show. The sound of keys rattling woke you up, you hadn’t even realize you had fallen asleep.

“shit” bucky whispered as the door slammed into the wall. “sorry” bucky spoke, apologizing to the wall before dragging his suitcase as quietly as he could. He kicked off his boots and his eyes landed on you asleep on the couch.

“buck?” you mumbled, willing your eyes open. Your vision was fuzzy and you could hear the tv still playing, you moved a little, forgetting you were on the couch and slipped off the edge. You couldn’t even process that you had fallen by the time bucky caught you in his arms, smiling at you.

“hi doll” bucky smiled at you, kissing your forehead gently and easily lifting you in his arm. He turned the tv off and carried you into your shared room, gently placing you on the bed.

“what time ‘s it?” You mumbled, rubbing your eyes and yawning, finally waking up.

“almost 3” he smiled at you softly, rummaging through his drawer and taking out a change of clothes. You nodded as he pulled out a black t shirt and some boxers, walking towards you and kissing your temple.

“I’m gonna shower doll, you can go to sleep” he assured you and you nodded, knowing full well you’d end up waiting up for him anyway.

“don’t slip” you smiled and he rolled his eyes, waving you off with a small smile on his face.

“it was one time!” He groaned before closing the door to the restroom.

You smiled to yourself as you heard the shower turn on, rolling over to your side and closing your eyes. The sleep that had been taking over you earlier was nowhere to be found. You kicked the covers off you and groaned, frowning as you stared at the ceiling. You grabbed your phone from the nightstand and scrolled through Twitter for a while, waiting for bucky to finish showering so you could cuddle up to him and fall asleep.

You could feel yourself growing hungry, glancing at the time on your phone you frowned a bit, it was already 3:07 am. you drank some water and tried to fall back asleep, cuddling into your pillow and letting out a soft sigh when you finally got comfortable. Right as you were finally going to sleep bucky opened the restroom door, the sound making your eyes shoot open and heart race. 

“did I wake you?” bucky whispered, a frown on his face as he heard your heart rate quicker than usual. You shook your head with a small smile. He knew you were lying but he didn't say anything, he just threw his dirty clothes in the laundry basket and settled next to you under the covers. He threw his right arm around you, pulling you closer to him and kissing the top of your head. 

“g’night doll” he mumbled and closed his eyes, already falling asleep from how exhausted he was. 

“goodnight buck” you replied softly, closing your eyes and relishing in the feeling of his arm around you. It was silent, with only the sounds of the city flowing through the Brooklyn apartment. 

Then your stomach growled, causing bucky to looked at you with wide eyes and you stifled a giggle. You mumbled a ‘sorry’ before closing your eyes again, hoping it wouldn't keep growling. 

You were wrong. Your stomach was relentless, and finally you got up, slipping from Bucky grasp and scurrying into the kitchen to find something to eat. Bucky felt your absence almost immediately, he opened his eyes and frowned, getting up and making his way into the kitchen. 

“didnt mean to wake you angel” you apologized as he walked towards you. He shook his head and wrapping his arms around you, letting his chin rest onto of your head. His eyes fluttered closed as you relaxed into him, your arms snaking around his waist and leaning your head against his chest. The sound of the microwave made you pull away from him, grabbing the hot cup of Mac and cheese and setting it on the dining table, Bucky soon following you and sitting next to you. 

“now im hungry” he frowned and you laughed, giving him some of your Mac and cheese which he gratefully ate. Within minutes the small bowl of Mac and cheese was empty, the two of you still hungry.  You stared at bucky, a small smile creeping onto both of your faces. You were both thinking the same thing. 

“no we shouldn't” you shook your head and bucky agreed. 

“yeah no its almost 4 we should get to bed” he replied, you both got up, making eye contact before bursting into a fit of giggles and smiles, heading straight towards the kitchen and definitely not bed. You pulled your phone out and put on some music. 

“you were thinking about French toast right?” you asked and bucky smiled, already opening the fridge for the ingredients, you grinned and you opened the pantry to get the other things you needed. You both sang along to the music softly, swaying to the beat. 

As bucky made the mix you grabbed the bread and two plates, heating up the pan and putting some butter on it, letting it melt. You moved easily in the kitchen with bucky, ever since you had moved in together everything just seemed to work for you guys. 

As you dipped the bread into the batter before putting it in the pan. Turning to bucky and using the spatula as a microphone, singing along to some 40s song you had added for bucky. You smiled as he took the spatula from your hand, setting it down and grabbing your hands, dancing along to the song. 

Bucky had the brightest smile on his face as you followed his lead, letting him twirl you around as the song played. You looked up at him as he danced with you, meeting his light blue eyes. Your eyes met and bucky couldn't stop himself. 

“I can't wait any longer oh my god” he rushed out, letting go of you and rushing back into the bedroom, leaving you along in the kitchen. 

You frowned, did you do something wrong? You focused back on the French toast, flipping the slice so it wouldn't burn before placing it on Buckys plate. You frowned as you looked for the powdered sugar. Realizing you hadn't taken it out you turned around to get it, your back to the bedroom door. As you searched for it your mind raced, was he breaking up with you? Was he just really tired?

Meanwhile Bucky was rummaging through all his drawers, wondering where the hell he put the ring he picked out with Steve seven months ago. His heart was racing as he heard you cooking the french toast, confused as to why he left you. Finally he found the black velvet box in the back of his sock drawer, smiling as he ran back out to meet you in the kitchen. 

Bucky saw you facing the drawer, so he wasted no time sneaking up behind you and getting down on one knee silently, opening the small box to reveal the ring. 

You finally found the powdered sugar, opening it and turning around. You turned quickly, eyes immediately landing on bucky, right in front of you. 

On one knee. With a ring.

You dropped the powdered sugar, causing it to land all over you, bucky and the ring. Your hands flew to your mouth as he smiled at you brightly.

“are you joking? this is a joke right?” you questioned and bucky shook his head, still on one knee despite having powdered sugar all over his shirt. 

“y/n I love you so much, I wanna spend forever with you. Everything feels so right with you I just- its like we’re just meant to be, I can't imagine a life without you. I wanna make you happy, I wanna travel the world with you, I wanna dance in the kitchen at 3 am and make French toast at ungodly hours with you for the rest of my life” he rambled, you felt your ears burning as he continued, your mind still processing that he was actually proposing. 

“-I love how competitive you are and how excited you get over anything and everything, I just love you so much-” he cut himself off when he looked at you for the first time since he started rambling, smiling softly up at you as you looked at him, fondness in your eyes and a tear rolling down your cheek. 

“will you marry me?” he spoke, breathless. 

Never in your life have you nodded so quickly. 

“yes, of course yes” you whispered and bucky smiled, jumping to his feet as you cupped his face, crashing your lips onto his, smiling into the kiss. You pulled away with a sniffle, smiling as he took your hand and slid the ring on, he blushed at the sight of it. 

You looked at each other with a smile, kissing once more before you realizing the french toast was cold by now. You pulled away quickly, grabbing the powdered sugar bag from the floor and sprinkling some lightly on your plates. 

“sorry about all that” you laughed, motioning to the powdered sugar all over the two of you and the floor. Bucky just grinned, waving it off as the two of you ate the French toast, a smile never leaving either of your faces. Both pf you giggling as the sun came up and birds began to sing. 

Not long after you finished Bucky cleaned up your mess, you changed into one of his t shirts and slipped into bed, a smile on your face as he walked into the room, taking his shirt off and slipping out of his sweats before moving into bed next to you. 

You wasted no time as he laid on his back, moving his arm so you could rest your head on his chest. He cradled you gently as you got comfortable, kissing the top of your head once you settled in. 

“love you so much angel, can't wait until we get to spend forever together” you mumbled with a smile on your face, already drifting off to sleep. Bucky smiled at your words, letting his fingers run through your hair. 

“and I love you more than yesterday” he whispered, “but less than tomorrow.”

Bucky meant his words. He meant them with everything he was. He fell in love with you everyday. He always found himself falling deeper and deeper, but he never complained. Now could fall in love with you for the rest of his life.

[scuttling]

Paper Rings

Fandom: Criminal Minds Pairings: Aaron Hotchner/Female Reader Word Count: 10,191 Tags: SFW, Fluff, Literature, Friends to lovers, Everyone thinks they're dating, There was only one bed, Some angst with a happy ending, Confessing love in the rain, TW fire and blood/wound Summary: Some of my favorite tropes rolled into one cute fic inspired by Taylor Swift's Paper Rings. (lyrics and music) Link to A03 or read below! “Good morning, my friendly neighborhood crime fighters,” Penelope says as she enters the briefing room, wearing a dress that is bright bubblegum pink, with fingerless gloves and glasses to match. You, Derek, and Spencer groan your replies, because you just got home from a case last night, with less than seven hours between arriving at your apartment and returning to the office, and that is everyone’s least favorite thing.

You can’t deny that her typical sunny disposition makes you smile a little bit brighter, but you’re still exhausted, and even your usual extra large travel mug of breakfast blend is barely taking the edge off.

That’s probably why, when Aaron enters with trays of steaming espresso drinks from the cafe down the street, and a striped box of donuts, you act like a kid on Christmas morning.

“Oh my god, I love you. Thank you, I love you.” He got an array of basic drinks based on everyone’s usual orders, and you scan for one that has something with latte, but he takes one out and hands it to you, smiling when you take a sip and sigh—okay, he’s smiling with his eyes, but you are well versed in his body language and facial expressions, and he’s practically grinning at getting your order (triple one pump hazelnut extra hot latte) correct.

You are not the only one to notice.

“Get a room, you two; it’s just coffee,” Derek says, taking the white mocha from the tray and drinking half of it in one sip. “Now if you tell me there’s a bear claw in there, I’ll confess my undying love too.”

“I don’t know; I asked for an assortment,” he says, and it’s clear he did, but your cup has your name on it; you cover the ink with your hand and take another grateful sip. “I do know there’s a plain glazed in there, though,” he says a bit lower, just for you, and you smile, give his wrist a squeeze, and dive for it before Jennifer Jareau can get her hands on it.

That’s all the morning meeting consists of—bickering and bantering and caffeine and carb consumption—and when the group disperses, you follow Aaron to his office and sit down in the chair across from his.

“Thanks again for breakfast. You definitely raised the morale of the troops,” you say with a sip of your perfect latte, and he shares the hint of a smile.

“You’re welcome. It helps that you’re all so easy to appease.” He flips open his bag, pulls out a small, worn, paperback book, tosses it toward you. You pick it up, run your hand over the well-loved cover, and hum.

“The Call of the Wild—this made it into the Aaron Hotchner Nightstand Collection?” He arches a brow.

“It’s so overrated that it’s underrated; no one ever actually reads it, they just assume they know what it’s about. It’s a great book, if you’ll give it a chance.”

“Hey, you’ve read all of mine without complaint; of course I’ll give it a chance.” You take the last, sad sip of your latte and stand up, point out the door with your thumb. “Speaking of, mine’s still downstairs on my desk. I’ll be right back.”

Exchanging books started as an offhand comment one night, on a flight home from Georgia, when he’d mentioned that he never buys new books, only cycles through the same ten or twelve he’s been reading since college. He knows what he likes, finds something different in the text each time he reads, and you’d found something so profoundly beautiful about that that you’d asked for the list. You wanted to know more about the books that tug at his emotions enough that he’s read them day in and day out for over twenty years with no boredom in sight.

He’d done you one better, said he’d be happy to lend them to you, if you’d like, and that was an offer you couldn’t refuse. Seeing college-aged Aaron’s notes in the margins of battered paperback novels was a prospect too good to be true.

Of course, you couldn’t accept the gesture without returning one of your own, so you’d offered to share your favorite books with him too, only... you don’t exactly give him your favorite books. You purposefully buy the cheesiest romance novels you can get your hands on, pass them off to him while he hands you poignant, classic novels that have won literary awards and Nobel prizes.

Today’s is called Lord of Scoundrels, complete with a shirtless man on the cover, kissing a woman with dark, flowing hair and a light blue dress; you snicker the whole way to your desk and back up to his office—earning curious glances from the rest of the team—and when you drop it on the desk in front of Aaron, you watch closely for a reaction.

As usual, he doesn’t really give you one, just flips the book over, skims the summary on the back, and nods.

“Sounds interesting,” he says, and your heart does a little flip.

He could easily hand the book back, laugh in your face, refuse to read something so clearly out of his wheelhouse, but he thinks these novels are important to you, and he never fails to read them, offering his favorite parts the same way you do for his.

The world probably doesn’t deserve Aaron Hotchner; you definitely don’t.

“I think you’ll really like it. Sebastian and Jessica start out kind of indifferent toward each other, but the more they interact, the more they find they have in common. It’s very acquaintances to friends to lovers, if you’re into that.” He looks up with an expression you place as uncertainty, even if you’re not quite sure the reason for it. You smile softly. “I should get to work, but thanks for the book. I’ll see you at lunch?”

It’s been so nice lately that you started taking your lunch outside, sitting on a bench beneath a huge, shady oak tree, and Aaron had taken to doing the same; you both quickly realized it was stupid to sit outside together, apart, so you meet up in the bullpen now and walk out side by side, spend the hour talking about your books or the team or Jack or life in general. He shakes the uncertain expression, nods his head.

“Of course. Thank you,” he says with a wave of the book, and you head back downstairs to start your day.

You’ve become mostly accustomed to the feeling, but it still surprises you a little when all that gets you through the day is thinking about your next conversation with Aaron. A week later, you’re on a case in Pittsburgh, and you and Aaron are paired up to room together. That’s nothing unusual—it seems like you’ve been rooming together more often than not lately, which is fine by you; he’s tidy, quiet, always interested in a late night snack, pretty much the perfect roommate—but when he opens the door and you step inside, the single king size bed in the middle of the room takes you by surprise.

“Uh… do you think it’s a mistake? Or maybe they just ran out of doubles?” you suggest; he's kind of frozen in place, and while it’s not ideal, you know it’s not actually going to be a problem. You’ve shared a bed with JJ before, and Spencer, and even though you don’t feel the same way about them as you do about Aaron, you think you can manage a couple nights in close quarters.

“Probably just ran out of doubles,” he agrees after a moment; he doesn’t bring up calling the front desk to ask for another room, so you don’t either, just hang your clothes and head into the bathroom to change into your pajamas and do your nightly routine.

It’s a little awkward at first, and you don’t know why; over the last six months or so, he’s actually become your closest friend on the team, and conversation usually comes easily, but silence settles over the room uncomfortably as you slip between the sheets on your side of the bed.

He goes into the bathroom, does his own nightly routine, then comes out in his pajamas and turns on CNN.

You take out your book, pay no attention to Aaron, but the longer he sits on the edge of the bed, staring at the news ticker on the television screen but not actually watching it, the more you wish he’d just get over himself and come to bed. If he’s trying to wait for you to fall asleep, he’s going to be waiting a while.

“So you were right; I love Buck,” you say as a way to start some conversation, to bring some normalcy to this unusual situation. You hold up the book you’re reading, the one he let you borrow. “His struggle between remaining loyal to his owner and answering the call of the wild—I love dogs, but I never imagined a book about a dog could be so moving.”

He turns back with a soft smile, then switches off the tv and heads over to his side of the bed; he pulls back the comforter, slides between the sheets, meets you toward the middle of the bed.

“I told you you’d like it; what chapter are you on?” He leans over to look, so close it wouldn’t take much to lift a hand and brush it over his hair; it looks unfairly soft, and part of you wants to card your fingers through it, to tug on it and mess it up a little. He probably wouldn’t even mind if you did.

“Chapter 7—I only have a few pages left.” You snuggle more comfortably against your pillow, lean into his shoulder, and move the book so it’s more evenly between you. “Want to finish it with me?”

He does, and you read silently at a similar pace; he reaches up to turn the pages, and you think about how these hands have flipped through this book so many times before, what he might have been thinking, feeling, while reading. It’s a more intimate act than you’ve shared with anyone in a really long time.

When you finish the book, you sigh, let the feeling of reading a really great story envelope you; you turn to face Aaron, and he’s looking at you… and then there’s a knock at the door that startles you both.

He gets up, walks over and checks the peep hole, then opens the door.

“Are you sure?” you hear JJ ask, and he steps back so she can enter the room; when she sees you tucked snugly into the middle of the bed, she shoots you a soft smile and mouths you’re welcome, which makes absolutely no sense without context. You’ll have to bring it up to her later and ask what exactly you’re supposed to be thanking her for.

“So you said the detective called?” Aaron prompts her, and she looks away from you, nods.

“Yes, he wanted me to ask if we could have a few agents meet him at the second crime scene tomorrow instead of the precinct, figured it could save a little time.” Aaron looks confused, like he doesn’t see why this couldn’t have waited until tomorrow, but he ultimately agrees.

“Sure. You, Reid, and Prentiss can head straight there, if that’s what he wants. I’ll let them know in the morning.” JJ nods, and looks over at you, and then back at Aaron, who makes a kind but curious face. “Was there something else?”

“Huh? Oh, no, that’s it. I just didn’t want to forget. I’ll let you guys go—enjoy the rest of your night,” she says with a smile and a wave, and when he closes the door behind her, you both exchange a look.

She’s definitely acting a little weird, but it’s late, so you give her the benefit of the doubt.

You scoot over to your side, put the book on the nightstand and switch off your lamp; Aaron climbs back into bed and switches his off, too, and he turns to face the wall while you lay on your back and stare at the ceiling.

It takes about half an hour, but he falls asleep first; you turn to face him, watching his back, following the rise and fall as he softly breathes in sleep, and the peaceful rhythm lulls you into submission, and you drift off as well.

When you wake up a couple hours later, he is on his stomach with his face pressed into his pillow, and you are draped over his back with your cheek against his t-shirt. It’s soft, and warm, and smells like him, and you glance at the clock and realize it’s too early to do anything but get comfortable and fall back asleep, so that’s exactly what you do.

The next time you wake up, to light creeping in between the curtains, Aaron is no longer in bed, but you’re holding his pillow, still warm beneath your cheek. He doesn’t act weird when you get up and start moving around, just pops out of the bathroom with his toothbrush dangling from his mouth.

“Got you a latte,” he says around it, gesturing to the desk and the pair of paper cups that sit on it, and you grin.

“Seriously, you’re my favorite human,” you answer, and you grab your coffee and lean against the doorframe, sipping and sighing until you’re a little more clear-headed. “Sorry if I crushed you; guess I was restless last night. I usually don’t move around that much.”

He just shrugs, spits out a mouthful of foam into the sink.

“You didn’t crush me. I’m pretty solid, if you hadn’t noticed.”

“I’ve noticed,” you tease, looking at him over the lid as you take another sip. “Now hurry up and quit hogging the bathroom if you want to leave here at a decent hour.” He rinses, zips up his toiletry bag noisily for dramatic effect, and slips past you, rubbing a hand over your unruly bed head as he goes. The day passes quickly, with lots of interviewing witnesses, following dead-end leads, and bad police station coffee. When Aaron calls it and tells everyone to get some dinner, you all split off into smaller groups—Spencer and Derek go for Chinese, JJ and Emily opt for pizza, and you and Aaron end up at a retro diner with burgers and milkshakes and a plate of fries between you to share.

“I think we should be focusing more on the docks,” you say, dipping a fry in ketchup and taking a bite. “Even if that’s not where the bodies end up, it seems to be where the unsub is meeting with the victims. We could stake it out tonight, maybe. If you want.” You never want to step on his toes, because he is the boss, the leader, even if you’re friends too; you try to be careful how you phrase things, especially in front of other people, because you don’t want your comfort to look like disrespect, however unintentional.

“That’s a good idea. You and I can head down there after this; I’ll let the others know to patrol nearby, in case we need backup.”

He dusts off his fingers and pulls out his phone, types out a text, and you look around the restaurant—the place looks like it was ripped right out of the 50s, with a checkered floor and lots of red vinyl, a shiny jukebox in the corner. Out of place is a flatscreen tv behind the counter; during the day, when it’s busier, it might play news or sports, but you two are the only ones here at the moment, so the staff is hanging out beneath it watching a movie. It’s Titanic, you realize, when the iconic ‘Rose floating on a piece of debris’ scene plays, and you snort, take a long drag of your chocolate shake.

“I always hated this part. They could have found a way for him to survive, too. Unnecessary death for the heartache factor,” you say, and Aaron looks up from his phone to the screen, makes a sound of contemplation.

“I always thought it was kind of romantic. When you love someone, you’d do anything for them to be okay, even at your own expense. Even if it’s stupid.” You look over his face, study the features you know like the back of your hand, and you guess you can kind of see that, but you can’t say that, so you just sigh.

“I suppose you think Romeo and Juliet is romantic, too,” you tease, and he looks back at you, rolls his eyes.

“It’s very much of its time; it's a lot harder to suffer a miscommunication like that these days. And there is something to be said for star-crossed lovers—people who shouldn’t be together, for one reason or another, but can’t help but drift close anyway.” You swirl your straw in the metal cup, thinking briefly of how that happens to describe the two of you, and when you look up at him, you think you see a hint of that same thought on his face.

More likely, that’s just wishful thinking.

“I like the sword-fights,” you say to lighten the mood, and he laughs, and you both polish off the rest of your food and then head for the docks.

Two hours in and absolutely nothing has happened, but just when you’re ready to complain, or suggest playing I Spy or something, there’s movement from one of the shipping containers to your right. You nudge Aaron, point to the container, and you both creep closer, trying to make out the situation.

When you’re just around the corner, it’s clearly two men fighting, but you obviously don’t know if this is your unsub, two random guys having it out on the docks, or what, so you mutually agree to wait until you have some kind of sign that this is your guy. When one of them pulls out a hunting knife that looks vaguely similar to your murder weapon—as close as you can tell in the dark, anyway—you raise your guns and identify yourselves as FBI.

The unsub drops the knife, but fists his hands in the other guy’s jacket, manhandles him to the edge of the dock, and shoves him into the water, then jumps as well. You swear, and Aaron takes off his jacket, throws it on the ground, then his phone on top of it, and looks back at you.

“Stay here and call for backup,” he instructs, and then he jumps in too; you call the team from your comms, get a response from Emily, and then toss your phone onto Aaron’s jacket and follow him.

He, of course, went for the victim first, so you look for the unsub, who is not visible above the water. You completely submerge yourself, feeling for more than looking for him, because the water is cloudy on a good day and pitch black at ten o’clock at night; when you pop your head up for air, you see Aaron getting the victim up onto the dock, and the unsub bobbing a bit further out. You swim to him, limbs aching, and he seems to know it’s time to give up.

He’s winded, gasping for breath, so you keep him above the water to your own detriment, dragging him by his wet jacket instead of cuffing him, because you’re not trying to kill the guy or lug his unconscious body back to shore. You just barely keep your own head above water most of the time, coming up for big gulps of air when absolutely necessary.

You finally make it to the dock, and your team has arrived, so Derek pulls him out of the water, makes sure he’s alright, and puts some cuffs on him. Aaron’s hands are on you right after, getting you up on the dock, wrapping a towel around your shoulders.

Despite the warm spring breeze, the water was freezing, and you can feel your teeth chattering. He rubs your arms for warmth, crouches down to look you seriously in the eyes.

“Thought I told you to stay here,” he says with an arched brow, a scowl you can tell is more concerned than angry. You wet your frozen lips and try your best to smile.

“You jump, I jump, Jack.”

He looks at you like you’re an idiot, but fondly, if that’s possible, then hugs you so tightly, guides your face to press against his warm neck. How he’s not teetering on the edge of hypothermia is anyone’s guess.

“Your lips are practically blue. Stupid,” he murmurs, but his mouth dusts over your temple in what is unmistakably a kiss, and when you’re able to feel your lips again, you reciprocate, press them a little harder against his throat while you shiver in his arms.

It doesn’t mean anything except I’m happy we’re both alive. Probably.

That night in bed, he faces the wall, and you stare at the ceiling, but you wake up with your nose against the back of his neck. The way he’s breathing tells you he’s not asleep, and when you wrap your arms around him, he holds them tight. Things don’t change after Pittsburgh, and that’s okay. You are comfortable with the way things are, and you love what you have—lunches under the oak tree, the exchange of books, late night texts when you both can’t sleep, hands brushing when you walk to the parking garage, glances shared across the jet. All those things make it easy not to focus on what you don’t have, what you’re not even sure Aaron would want anyway.

You exchange books again on Friday at lunch: he hands you Beloved by Toni Morrison, a book you already know and adore, and you hand him Ravished by Amanda Quick.

“Dubbed the Beast of Blackthorne Hall for his scarred face and lecherous past, Gideon,” Aaron shoots you a glance—“that’s purely coincidental”—“was strong and fierce and notoriously menacing. Yet Harriet could not find it in her heart to fear him. For in his tawny gaze she sensed a savage pain she longed to soothe... and a searing passion she yearned to answer.”

You hold back a smile.

“It’s a modern retelling of a classic story—Beauty and the Beast,” you add, taking a bite of your sandwich. He looks you over like there’s something he wants to say, but he just tucks it under his arm and steals a piece of melon from your lunch.

“I have Jack this weekend, so I probably won’t get to read much, but it sounds intriguing.”

“Well I hope you like it when you read it. Tell him I said hi; it’s been too long since I saw him. I bet he’s looking more like you every day,” you say, popping a piece of melon into your mouth. He smiles softly.

“A little, but Haley says she sees her father in him, and I have to agree. We may have to wait a few years until he looks like me; he’s too cute for that now.” He doesn’t sound self-deprecating, just fond, but you can’t let a comment like that stand, regardless.

“You’re cute; the difference is that kids are cute all the time. You’re an adult, so sometimes you’re handsome, sometimes you’re cute, sometimes you’re hot… it can be hard to reconcile.” This time, he looks you over with something light and playful in his eyes, and it’s something you want to explore, but the timer on your phone goes off, indicating that lunch is over, so you just exhale softly and pack up your things.

You don’t talk much after that—his Fridays are usually busy with meetings, and he leaves in a hurry to pick up Jack, which is understandable.

Emily, JJ, and Penelope invite you out for drinks and dinner—“because we know Hotch is busy,” Penelope says, which has literally nothing to do with your weekend plans, but you don’t correct them—so you don’t linger either.

You go out for Italian, so you are sleepy and full of wine and pasta by the end of the evening, and you smile at your friends.

“Thanks for inviting me out tonight, guys. I had a really good time.”

“Of course,” Emily says, taking her last sip of Pinot Noir. “We barely see you anymore; it was long overdue.”

“Definitely,” you agree. “I should really try to drag my ass out of bed more often.” You can’t help it, though, that after a long day, your bed and a good book just call your name. You’ve always been introverted in that way. JJ laughs softly, chin in her palm, elbow on the table.

“Honeymoon phase. Give it another couple months and you’ll be past that.” You do have a new memory foam mattress that has made sinking into the pillows and blankets all that more indulgent, but you didn’t think JJ knew about that. And you’ve never heard of a honeymoon phase for a mattress before.

“Eh, I don’t think so. There’s literally nothing more satisfying on this earth.” The three of them exchange an amused look, but your phone vibrates, and that catches your attention; you smile when it’s Aaron, sending you a photo of Jack with a toothy grin and his hands covered in fingerpaint. You look up to the sound of chairs scraping against the floor.

“Alright, we’ve lost her. See you all Monday,” Emily says, pulling you in for a hug; when she steps back, she smiles. “And tell Hotch we said hi.”

“I will,” you promise as you hug the other two. You hang back a moment, type out a reply—Looks like you’re having lots of fun without me!—and get into your car to head home.

You change into comfy clothes, drink a glass of water, and climb into bed with Beloved, and at around 9:30 you receive a reply.

Having the most fun we can without you. Maybe next time Jack is over, we can tempt you with dinosaur chicken nuggets and fingerpaint?

You smile, the happiest you’ve been all night—and that’s saying something, because you really did have a great time—and send back, It’s a date. Come Monday, you’re feeling pretty good, well-rested and relaxed from probably too much time in bed, but Aaron looks upset when he walks into the morning meeting. He keeps it short and sweet, and everyone disperses quickly, giving you sympathetic looks as you hang back to try to have a word with him. He clears off the white board, tidies up the table that doesn’t need tidying, and you place a hand on his back, gentle and comforting. He sighs, and you can feel the tension leave him almost instantly.

“Hey. What’s bothering you?” you ask softly, leaning around to try to catch his expression; he looks tired, sad, and maybe a little conflicted, leans into your touch.

“Taking Jack back to Haley’s was rough last night; it always is, but yesterday was really bad.” You know a little about this from weekends past, how Jack always cries when Aaron has to leave, how he feels terrible about it for the rest of the evening, but it must have been extreme for him to still be so upset. “And Haley…” He sighs again, runs his hand through his hair. “It’s like it’s one step forward, two steps back with her sometimes.”

“Why don’t we go sit in your office and you can tell me more?” You want to continue discussing this—that’s what friends are for, and he’s clearly in a bad state emotionally, you think it could help—but he just shakes his head.

“No, I… it’s okay. I don’t want to weigh you down with my problems.” You take your hand off his back, lean a hip against the table and look up at him.

“I’m not just your friend when it’s all easy breezy, lunch in the sunshine, talking about our favorite books,” you say with a sad smile; he reciprocates a little, which is more than you expected. “I’m here when things are complicated, when you have bad days, too. The Monday blues especially.” One of his hands rests on the table, and you cover it with yours, lean in to press your forehead to his shoulder. “Let me be here, okay? Even if all you need me to do is listen.”

It takes a moment, and his eyes are wet when he finally responds; he inhales deeply, nods, and brushes his free hand over your head in something of a hug, murmurs a rough, “okay.”

You sit in his office for an hour—which, again, is more than you expected—listening to him talk about his weekend with Jack, how heartbreaking it was to take him back to Haley’s, how he tried talking to her about taking him more often and she just wasn’t sure she could trust him to do what he says he’ll do. He understands where she’s coming from, knows he’s been unable to keep his word in the past, thinks he doesn’t deserve the benefit of the doubt; he hasn’t asked for advice, seems to just want to vent, so you just listen.

“Then I mentioned you, that you might come for dinner next time he’s over, and she was worried about that,” he says, exasperated, and you frown.

“Why would she worry about that? I’ve been around him lots of times.” It doesn't make sense, because Haley has always been nothing but sweet to you; Aaron looks up at your question, and it seems a little like maybe he hadn’t meant to say that part, though you can’t imagine why.

“It’s just different now… because he’s older,” he says after a brief moment of hesitation. “She doesn’t want him getting attached to someone who might not always be around, you know.” You sigh softly, because if that’s all it is…

You lean forward, take his hand, squeeze it tight.

“I’m always going to be around, Aaron. I can talk to her, if you want, tell her that.”

“No, it’s—you don’t have to do that.” He squeezes your hand back, closes his eyes for a beat. “Just hearing you say it, it makes things easier. I’ll talk to her again next time.”

You talk a little more, and he seems a lot better afterward, even if he is a bit less expressive during lunch; you figure any progress is good, but it makes you sad to see him so down, so naturally, you formulate a plan to help get him back to the Aaron you know and love.

At the end of the day, when he makes his way to the bullpen, you spin around in your chair, take him by the sleeve.

“You’re coming home with me tonight,” you say in no uncertain tone of voice. “For a few hours. I’ll bring you back for your car.” He agrees with a fond look, and you lose yourself in the expression for a moment, then stand up, grab your things, and walk with him out to the garage.

Rush hour traffic is what it is, and you leave Aaron in charge of the music, which means you get The Beatles and The Who, Rolling Stones and Neil Diamond, and you’re both singing along and so much happier by the time you pull into the parking lot of the bodega nearest your apartment.

“Just running in for provisions—be right back,” you say with a grin, and when you return with two paper bags of loot, he looks at you like you might be his favorite person in the world with an age in the double digits. It’s a look you love putting on his face.

“Do I get to see what provisions you’ve acquired?” he asks, teasing, but you shake your head and tell him he’ll see it when you get there.

With a pit stop in your apartment to grab a blanket and a few throw pillows, you take him up to the roof and get things ready for your makeshift picnic. There is white wine, still mostly chilled; cubed cheese, far from gourmet but no less delicious; crusty french bread that was fresh this morning but at this hour is a little extra crusty; blueberries, because they didn’t have grapes; dark chocolate, because you share a fondness for it; and paper cups for the wine.

Aaron takes a look at your bounty, spread over the blanket, and smiles the first real smile you’ve seen all day.

“Fancy,” he teases, and he takes off his jacket, gets on the ground with you. You pour each of you some wine, pop a blueberry in your mouth.

“No, but I thought a meal—and I do call it that loosely—under the stars might do you some good.” You lift your paper cup and tap it against his, brush your fingers over his hand. “To the best boss, best dad, best friend I could ask for.” You take a sip, but he doesn’t at first, watches you with something simmering behind his eyes.

“Do I get to make a toast?” he asks after a few beats, and you smile, nod, and hold up your cup. “To the only person stupid enough to jump into a freezing cold river after me. To the only person I would consider eating a bodega dinner with. To the only person who sees me the way you do.” You both take a sip, which is hard to swallow around the lump in your throat. He looks into your eyes, then breaks the dark chocolate into slivers and hands you a piece like he didn’t just say the sweetest thing anyone’s ever said to you before.

You eat, and talk, and drink, and when you’re done with dinner you put everything back in the bags and lay back on the blanket, side by side, and stare up at the stars. The moon is high and full, shining while the stars twinkle around it, and you can’t think of a single time you’ve ever felt more at peace.

“This was really perfect,” Aaron says, almost a whisper, after about twenty minutes of companionable silence. “I can’t thank you enough for being there for me today.” You turn to face him, hands curled up under your chin, and he turns toward you as well. He’s so handsome in the moonlight your heart almost aches.

“You don’t have to thank me. I just wanted to see you happy.” You feel your eyes well up with tears, because he deserves to be happy; you sigh, blink them away, and he leans in and presses his lips to your forehead, rests them there for a long time. When he eventually pulls back, you bring a hand to his hair, brush it back at his temple, and then the creaking of the door makes you pull back, sit up.

It’s your neighbor from 422, who you’ve seen on the roof a handful of times, sneaking away from his wife to smoke a cigarette. He squints in the dark, recognizes you, and waves.

“Hey, 418! You’re not alone tonight.” Aaron sits up too, and you laugh softly.

“Nope, but we were just leaving. The roof is all yours.” Aaron stands, pulls you up, and you grab the blanket and pillows while he grabs the bags, and the two of you head back down to your place.

It’s after ten when you get the groceries put away, and you stand next to Aaron in your small kitchen, contemplating what you want to say next. Your mouth betrays your brain, says what you’ve been thinking but weren’t quite sure how to approach.

“It’s late; I know I said I’d take you back to your car, but you could stay here if you want. I have a spare toothbrush, and I know you have a spare suit at the office, and it’s not like it’s the first time we’ve shared a bed before.”

You’d completely understand if he’d rather go home—you hate when your plans are changed at the last minute, and you prefer to do your full nightly routine for your sanity’s sake—but he only nods, and you lead your way to the bedroom, show him the master bath.

You are in your pajamas, tucked into bed, when he comes out in his boxers and undershirt; he hangs up his suit in your closet where you’d left him some space, then climbs in beside you. He looks over at you, then past you, at your nightstand, which has a stack of books on it—none of them romance novels. You grin, busted after months of book exchanges, and he leans over you to look at the titles.

“Persuasion, To Kill A Mockingbird, One Hundred Years of Solitude—Beloved.” He looks from your copy of the novel to his, which you hold in your hands, and you shrug sheepishly.

“I like reading the notes you put in the margins,” you say meekly, hoping he’s not angry, but all he does is laugh.

“Let me guess: you don’t actually like romance novels.” He leans back against your pillow, and so do you, resting the book on your lap.

“I mean, I don’t not like them… but I’ve been buying those just for you.” The smile on his face is brilliant, and only makes you yearn for him more; things you have been purposefully not feeling are flooding your heart and mind and body now, with him so close, laughing over this stupid secret you’ve been hiding for so long. “And you, sweet man that you are, have been reading them, and discussing them.” You put your hand on his shoulder, and he ducks his head to laugh again.

“Since we’re being honest… I didn’t read all of them. I tried,” he says when you act offended, shoving the shoulder you’re resting against, “but some of them were so bad. I just flipped through, found something I thought could pass as my favorite part, and hoped to hell you didn't ask too many questions.”

You both laugh until you’re breathless—he is so different from how he was this morning it makes you want to cry—and when your laughter dies down you look at each other, sharing breath, two heads on one pillow; is it any wonder you bridge the distance, pull him close for a warm, gentle kiss?

When you break the kiss, you are instantly worried about what Aaron will do—you aren’t drunk, aren’t even tipsy, so you know he can’t be, so much bigger and more solid than you, but will he think it’s a mistake? He kissed back, you’re pretty sure, but maybe that was an accident, something done on autopilot—

He leans in for a second kiss, mouth deceptively soft, and you curl your arm around his back, press into it with lips desperate not to let this end now that it’s started. When you separate, you are both looking into each other’s eyes again, breathing a bit heavily, and you meet in the middle for a third kiss, the best kiss you’ve ever had in your life.

That kiss ends when you yawn in his face, and he chuckles softly, leans over and switches off your bedside lamp; you smile at the ceiling, and he wraps his arms around you, presses his lips to your shoulder, and tells you good night. The next day, the two of you arrive at work early so he can shower and change into his fresh clothes without anyone on the team noticing—not that you think they would really care, but they’re nosy, and a little annoying, so you both agree that’s probably for the best.

You don’t talk about the kisses, even though they’ve been the only thing running through your mind since they happened; you promise to discuss it at lunch, though, and that’s such a sweet, romantic prospect that you think you prefer it better that way anyway.

Only, you don’t ever get to lunch, because there’s an urgent case in Minneapolis, an all hands on deck situation, meaning even Penelope joins you on the jet. You debrief on the flight, hunker down in the conference room, and split up to cover more ground; you barely get to speak to Aaron the whole time you’re there except to be given instructions and to fill him on what, if anything, you’ve learned.

You don’t even make it to your hotel that night, working around the clock to catch the people responsible for terrorizing the city. It takes not one, but almost two full days, and when you board the jet on Wednesday evening, everyone is dead on their feet. You barely remember the flight or the trip home, and you fall onto your bed fully clothed and crash just like that.

Thursday is your birthday, which you almost forgot, and so you assumed everyone else would too. You should have known better, because even if your team can be annoying, they are still your friends, and they love you, so you are well and truly spoiled.

You are treated to a latte and bagels from Emily, purple cupcakes with silver sprinkles from Penelope, a piggy back ride from Derek, a book of poetry you’ve had your eye on from Spencer, and a card from JJ—really, it turns out, from all of them.

“Enjoy a romantic getaway on us?” There’s some kind of certificate in the card, and when you flip it over, you discover that it’s for a hotel and spa that offers couples massages, mud baths, intimate aromatherapy? You arch a brow. “Uh, thanks, guys. Are you trying to tell me something here?” JJ’s face falls a little and she points to the card.

“It’s a romantic getaway. For you and Hotch? Since things have been so hectic lately,” she says, but your ears are kind of ringing and your brain is stuck on the for you and Hotch part.

“Oh. Um. Sorry—it’s just kind of soon, I think? How do you guys even know about that?” you murmur. The two of you haven’t had time to discuss Monday yet, and you haven’t spoken a word to anyone; you wouldn’t have guessed Aaron would have either, but there is a gift certificate for a romantic getaway in your hands, and you’re kind of spiraling.

“Well come on, we haven’t exactly been pretending we don’t know,” Emily says, and you can feel the confusion in your features when you look up at her. “And you guys haven’t been exactly secretive. We’re happy for you, though.”

“I mean, we haven’t been secretive, but we haven’t really had a chance to talk about it yet. It’s only been three days.” You are met with looks similar to the one on your own face.

“What do you mean, three days?” Spencer asks with a frown. “You and Hotch have been dating for almost two months. Right?” he says, looking at the others, and they nod, but it’s tentative. Your first reaction is to flush, and you close the card, fan your face with it.

“You guys think… You guys thought…” You look at them, then up at Aaron’s office; there’s no way he can know that you’re having a moment, but he chooses then to come downstairs, coincidentally. He’s smiling at first, but it falls when he looks at your face.

“Hey. Is everything okay?” He presses a cool hand to your hot cheek, flicks his eyes over yours, and JJ makes a noise; when you glance over at her, she’s gesturing between the two of you.

“I’m sorry, we were wrong? What were we supposed to think?” Aaron frowns, not following, and you take a deep breath.

“They got me a gift certificate for my birthday. To a spa. For you and I to have a romantic getaway, because they were under the assumption we’ve been dating… for two months.” The way he pulls back quickly makes your stomach ache a little, but you say nothing. You should have known.

“You say I love you,” Derek begins like he’s listing evidence. “You have lunch together every day. You’re always smiling at each other.”

“Seriously, some of the softest, gooiest smiles I’ve ever seen,” Penelope adds.

“You eat together on cases, you’re texting all the time when you’re not together.”

“I’ve been pairing the two of you up in hotels since I first figured out you were dating,” JJ says, and the whole ‘you’re welcome’ thing suddenly makes some sense. “I booked you that room with just the one bed so you’d maybe feel more comfortable about us knowing, so you’d see that we don’t mind.”

“You’re always looking at each other, always touching,” Spencer says. “In Pittsburgh—that was the first time you really hugged or kissed each other in front of us. We were trying to pretend it wasn’t a big deal, but it was kind of a big deal.”

You look over at Aaron, try to gauge his reaction, but for the first time in a long time you can’t tell what he’s feeling. You can’t really tell what you’re feeling, either. Sadness. Worry. Loss? But what have you lost?

“We’re friends,” you say, even if it sounds weak to your own ears. “We’re… close.”

“We wouldn’t exactly make sense as a couple, would we?” Aaron asks rhetorically, and your heart clenches when he says that. He told you this morning that he’d made dinner plans for you, both for your birthday and to discuss the kisses, what they mean, where you go from here, but that doesn’t sound very promising anymore. “We’re just—”

“Star-crossed,” you say, but you feel like your eyes are vacant. You can hear your heartbeat pounding in your ears. You’re stupid for kissing him, for letting yourself think he could feel the same way you feel, have felt for a while. Isn’t friendship enough? Don’t you already have this special bond so unlike what you have with anyone else in your life? Why press your luck? You know better than that. “We should get back to work.”

You don’t look at Aaron, so you don’t know whether or not he looks at you. JJ does, and you can tell she knows you’re upset, but she just nudges everyone on their way, and you take a seat at your desk—it’s covered in balloons and streamers, the Penelope special.

You’ve never felt less like celebrating.

At lunchtime, Aaron stops at your desk, and the two of you walk out to the bench, open your bags in silence. You’re almost halfway through the hour before he tries to speak.

“Uh. I. About earlier,” he finally gets out, looking down at his sandwich, and you shake your head even though he’s not watching you.

“It’s fine. We don’t have to.” You take a bite of your salad even though you don’t taste it. “You’re right, it doesn’t make sense. You are who you are,” smart, sweet, handsome, tender, caring, “and I am who I am.” Too quiet, too young, too impulsive, too silly, too emotional. He nods, looks at your face for the first time in a while, swallows.

“Right.” You’re due to exchange books back—his is on your lap, yours is on his—and he picks them both up. “I’m like this,” he says, holding up Beloved. “Faded cover, dog-eared pages, scribbles in the margins: middle-aged, divorced, a little broken, barely holding it together for the kid I don’t get to spend enough time with. You’re like this,” he says, holding up Ravished. “Fresh and glossy and shiny and new, with your whole life ahead of you, the whole world ahead of you. You could do anything, with anyone.”

You frown, because this is not what you meant, at all. How could he think that about himself, when the well-loved cover and the dog-eared pages and the scribbles in the margins are all the best parts of him?

“Aaron,” you say, but it sounds like pleading; you reach out to put your hands on his arms, but he pulls them back. His eyes are rimmed red, lips pressed together to hold back everything he’s not saying.

“I think lunch is almost over.” He packs up his things, leaves you with tears in your eyes and a wilted salad and a brand new romance novel you’re never going to read.

Later, he cancels dinner, says something came up, and you go home to your empty bed and watch Titanic and bawl your eyes out when Rose tells Jack she’ll never let go. Friday, you get another case. Weekend cases are no one’s favorite, but especially not yours, when you desperately needed that buffer of time away from Aaron to sort out your feelings and get back to some sense of normalcy. Instead, you’re flying to a small town outside of Nashville to catch a serial arsonist, and when you get to your hotel, you and Aaron are sharing a room.

At least there are two beds, this time.

You go with Emily and Spencer to a crime scene, walking around a house that was once picture perfect and is now all charred wood and ash, and you quickly tell yourself to get a grip and not look for metaphors for your own life while trying to solve a case. What kind of investigator are you? Pathetic, apparently.

You work until evening, and when it’s time to break for dinner, you buy a sad looking assortment of items from the police station vending machine and eat in the conference room by yourself.

It’s a good thing you do, because they get a call about the fire while everyone is still away, and you and a few locals are the first on the scene.

It doesn’t start out bad, mostly located in the back of the house, but you know how quickly these things can spread, and the fire department is working hard to put it out. One of the officers is talking to the family, and the mother is crying, so you come closer to figure out why.

“She said the daughter was supposed to be staying at a friend’s, but sometimes she changes her mind at the last minute and comes home. She can’t get ahold of her,” the officer says, and you nod, thinking.

“Where would she be? The front or the back?”

“Her room is in the front, second floor; if she’s here, that’s where she’d be,” the mother says, wiping her eyes with a tissue, and you tell the officer to stay with them, that you’ll take care of it. You talk to the firefighters—this town is so small there are only two that were able to respond, and they’re both busy trying to put out the fire, but they clear you to go in if you stick to the front of the building and get out of there as fast as you can.

Your team isn’t here yet either, too far out for comms to be effective, and you can’t get ahold of Aaron, so you make a judgement call and head inside.

The front of the house is so eerily normal it’s almost easy to calm your nerves and pretend the back isn’t in the process of being destroyed. You open the front door, run up the staircase, and call out for the girl; she answers, not from the front of the house, but the back—a bathroom maybe? Flames lick up the wall beside it, but you can get to the knob, and she comes rushing out, into your arms, terrified. You weren't expecting that, and you both fall back: your head hits off the floor, but she seems okay, so you tell her to run out the front door and find her mom.

You press a hand to the back of your head, and it comes back tacky with blood. There’s ringing in your ears for a couple of minutes, and then your favorite voice in the world comes through.

“Where are you? We’re here, where are you?” You’re getting hotter, and when you crane your neck up, you can see why: the fire is getting closer, creeping toward the staircase, creeping toward you. You inhale, cough, and press your walkie button.

“I’m upstairs in the hall; hit my head. It’s not safe.”

“I’m coming for you.” You groan. Stubborn man.

“It’s not safe, Aaron.” You hear the crackle of static, hope maybe he heard your warning and will wait until more firefighters arrive—but knowing him the way you do, that’s just wishful thinking. His voice rings out again, and despite the pain, you can’t help but smile.

“You jump, I jump, Jack. Just stay put; I’ll be right there.” You close your eyes, drift in and out of consciousness; when you see him, all you can think is how ridiculously in love with him you are, and that you really hope you’ll be around to tell him. You are, of course, fine. Your head is the worst of it, even the smoke inhalation was mild, and the fire didn’t touch you, so there are no burns. Aaron doesn’t leave your side the entire time you’re being checked over, looks serious and concerned, though he smiles when the mother comes over and squeezes you so tightly you wince a little. It starts to rain, making the firefighters' jobs a little easier, and it feels oddly cleansing, after the day you’ve had. Someone offers you an umbrella, but you decline.

The fire is successfully put out, and the half of your team that didn’t respond to the scene responded to a call for suspicious activity, which ends up being your unsub. You are all happy no one was killed this time, and since you’re staying the night again, the group decides to grab a drink to celebrate. You don’t have a concussion, but your head still aches, so you pass, and Aaron passes with you.

You head to the hotel, park in the lot, but you don’t even make it halfway across before you stop, a hand on his arm.

“I need to say something,” you tell him, and he looks up at the dark sky like, right here? Right now?, even though you’re both already drenched. You nod, because if you don’t do this now you might never—almost dying always gives you an unhealthy amount of confidence, which you attribute to equal amounts of adrenaline and stupidity. “When we first met, I didn’t think we’d have a lot in common. We’re both quiet, but in wildly different ways, and I’m quick to trust and let people in while your guard is almost never down.”

He looks a little sad at that, and you realize you’re kind of doing what he did, putting the two of you into completely different categories, emphasizing the ways you don’t belong together. But that’s dumb, so you don’t give him time to focus on that for long.

“But being your friend, Aaron—the more time I spent with you, the more I came to feel like no one has ever understood me the way you do. No one has ever seen me the way you do.” Rain is pouring down all around you, beating against the pavement, flattening your hair against your head, but you don’t care. Regardless of his reaction, this is actually kind of perfect. “I didn’t mean to fall in love with you—that was an accident, I admit. But that doesn’t mean you aren’t the best thing that’s ever happened to me.” You step closer to him, put your hands on his waist; he doesn’t pull away. “I don’t need shiny, glossy things; you're the one I want—faded cover, dog-eared pages, notes in the margins. I love you exactly as you are.”

He is gorgeous in the rain, water in his hair, dripping off his nose. His expression looks hopeful, and you pray to god that’s not wishful thinking.

“Say something, anything,” you beg, anticipation killing you, and he presses his hands to your cheeks and pulls you close for a deep, passionate, soulful kiss that says it all.

The words are nice to hear, though.

“I didn’t mean to fall in love with you either,” he breathes against your lips when the kiss breaks. “I told myself it was just a crush, because someone so young and beautiful was paying so much attention to me, treating me like more than just the guy giving orders. But the more time I spent with you, the more undeniable it became. You are everything good about the world—bright, optimistic, caring, funny, sweet. How could anyone not fall in love with you?”

You swallow hard, lean up to press your lips against his again.

“When you said we wouldn’t make sense as a couple…” He shakes his head.

“That was just me chickening out. After we kissed, I was all but ready to ask you to go steady,” he says, and you both smile, because he’s such an old fashioned dork, but god, do you love him. “And then we found out that the team thought we’d been together for months, and you looked freaked out, so I freaked out. I’m sorry. I should have made us talk about it sooner.”

“Classic pointless miscommunication,” you say with a laugh, and he chuckles too, kisses you again.

“Let’s go inside and get dried off; there’s a birthday gift in my bag I’ve been meaning to give you.” He takes your hand, and you head up, duck into the bathroom to change into dry clothes, squeeze the water out of your hair. There is a small, flat, wrapped present on your bed when you emerge, and you smile, sink down to open it.

It’s Romeo and Juliet, a brand new copy, but when you flip through it, there are blue inked notes in the margins. Aaron comes to sit beside you, touches your face like you’re something precious.

“The course of true love never did run smooth,” he murmurs, and you smack him on the arm with the book.

“That’s from A Midsummer Night's Dream, and I know you know that,” you say with a grin. He nods in admission, and you wrap your arms around his shoulders, lean in for a warm, loving kiss. When you pull back, it’s with a soft smile. “Give me my sin again?”

“My pleasure,” he whispers, and you sink into his embrace and promise never to let go. The following week, you both leave work at noon on Friday so you can enjoy your romantic getaway. You drive to the spa, and Aaron reads over the brochure on his phone with a tone you find hilarious.

“Mud bath—I’m not bathing in mud. That’s counterintuitive.”

“It’s special mud; more like clay,” you say, but he snorts, scrolls.

“Seaweed wrap—nobody is wrapping me in seaweed. That sounds like a nightmare.” You laugh softly and take your exit.

“It’s supposed to be rejuvenating. JJ recommended it.”

“JJ weighs fifty pounds. It would take all the seaweed in the Atlantic to wrap me,” he says, and you roll your eyes, jab your finger into his ribs.

“But what if I get to unwrap you?” you ask, eyebrows raised; you briefly glance over and he makes a face of contemplation.

“Okay, that’s a maybe. Intimate aromatherapy—what does that even mean?”

“I think it means we do something that makes us smell good and then we go back to our room and kiss and stuff.”

“Now that doesn’t sound half bad,” he murmurs. “Foot massage? I’m not letting a stranger touch my feet, that’s weird.” You look over at him, squinting.

“You literally plugged someone’s bullet wound with your finger yesterday, but someone touching your feet is where you draw the line? Will you do anything on the list?” He scrolls down it, and his extended silence makes you laugh.

“Meditation. Couples massage,” he says, reaching over to rest a hand on your thigh. “There’s a sauna.” You think of him, sweat-drenched in a fluffy white towel, and take a deep, calming breath. “I bet the room is nice; did you bring a book?” You smile indulgently, reach out a hand to brush through his hair.

“Yep. It’s called A Duke’s Wild Kiss…” He gives you a mildly withering look, and you lightly tap the bridge of his nose. “Just kidding. I brought To the Lighthouse by Virginia Woolf.” His answering smile is brilliant.

“Are you serious?” You nod, and he gestures to the backseat, where your bags are. “That’s what I brought, too.”

You spend too much of your romantic getaway in your room, but it is really nice; you do the couples massage, though, and aromatherapy, and the sauna, and then you take turns giving each other a foot massage while the other reads To the Lighthouse out loud.

The world probably doesn’t deserve Aaron Hotchner; you definitely don’t, but somehow you get to keep him anyway. A/N: Though I snuck in a few parts of a few different lyrics, two lines in particular inspired this fic: 'Now I've read all of the books beside your bed' and 'I hate accidents except when we went from friends to this.' A lot of my fics lately have incorporated books... guess I better get reading!

Taglist ❤️: @thaddeusly @arsonhotchner @mrsh0tchner @ssahotchie @sleepyreaderreads @mintphoenix @meghannnnnn @disgruntledchowchow @azenpal @g-l-pierce @my-rosegold-soul @ssamorganhotchner @heliotropehotch @angelhotchner @qtip-blog @gspenc @wishuhadstayed @averyhotchner

[abbatoirablaze]

The Debauchery of Captain America, Chapter 13

Word Count:  905

“You are the most important woman in my life,” Steve offered as he pressed yet another series of kisses down my chest.  I moaned as he stopped at my breasts, his tongue laving over my nipples.  He gently kissed the stiff peaks, making my already overly sensitive body shiver.  Out of instinct I grabbed onto his hair when he latched onto me, tugging on his tresses.  He groaned; his mouth still around my nipple, sending the vibrations straight to my core, “you are so beautiful.”

My back arched as he gently suckled on my nipples, before releasing me with a sloppy pop, “Steve.”

“I want to wake up to you every morning…want to make love to you every day,” Steve moaned softly as he flipped us over so that I was beneath him, “I love you so much, bunny.”

His heavy cock rubbed against my folds, making me whimper.  He grinded himself against me again, his tip catching against my entrance on the pull back.  I shuddered. 

“(Y/N), I want to make love to you.”

“I’m all yours, Steve!” I promised, pulling his lips back to mine, “make love to me, Steve.”

“Marry me!”

I froze, my eyes catching his, “Wh-what?”

He reached over and pulled a box from the nightstand, “I-I was trying to propose…before we…”

I gasped, seeing the large engagement ring as he opened the box, effectively cutting him off, “Steve…you-“

“I asked your dad’s permission months ago,” he informed me, another light blush dusting his cheeks, “I-I knew that I wanted to propose Valentine’s Day…but then we ended up he-“

“YES!”

Steve looked at me, “really?”

I nodded, my heart switching around so that it felt like it was going to nearly beat out of my chest as I grabbed Steve’s face, “Steve YES!  I want to marry you!”

He broke out in a grin and grabbed the ring from the box, placing it delicately on my finger.  I pulled him into a heavy kiss.  A million emotions flooded me as I melted against him.

“N-now…now I’m going to make love to you!  Going to make love to you, to the future Mrs. Rogers,” he promised as he pulled away, both of us breathing heavy.  I gasped again when I felt his cock at my entrance, swirling around me and collecting my juices.  His hips bucked gently and I gasped, feeling the heavy leaking tip pressing against my core, “I love you bunny.  God…I love you so much!”

“I love you too, Steve!”

I stared dreamily at the ring on my finger as my eyes adjusted to the morning, the sunlight streaming in through the curtains.  My heart felt so full just staring at it, knowing that me and Steve were no longer simply boyfriend and girlfriend.  He was my fiancé now, just as I was his.

Everything felt like a dream.  Insanely surreal.

“Bunny…”

I looked up from my ring, and smiled, seeing Steve at the entrance to the bedroom, a breakfast tray in hand. 

“What on earth are you doing, Steve Rogers?”

“Making my beautiful fiancé breakfast in bed,” he offered sweetly, coming over to the bed.  He put the tray down on the trunk at the edge and slid back to bed, “but I was thinking about something else I’d much rather have for breakfast!”

“Oh?” I asked, eyes flickering down curiously to his growing erection, “and what’s that?”

“I want to have you, bunny.  I want to taste you again and again.  I want to be full of your sweet nectar.”

I giggled as Steve’s hands worked their way down to my hips, his body following, until he was face to face with my bare core, “Steve…”

“So perfect,” he smiled sweetly, looking back up at me.  A long, thick finger traced around my tender folds, still sensitive from when he’d woke me up with morning sex.  My pussy fluttered around the digit, while some of his cum slipped from me.  He looked back up to me, his gaze full of lust.  I could see the obvious glimmer in his eyes from the manifestation of his own kinks, “oh, bunny…did I fill you up?”

I blushed, the innocent enough words, coming across dirtier than all else, “Steven Grant Rogers….”

“Let me help you,” he cooed.  I gasped as his finger swirled around me momentarily, collecting the cum that had dribbled out of my tender entrance, before gently pushing it back in, “we can’t waste a drop now, bunny.  Can we?  Going to have a little family of our own…going to have my pretty little wife full of me.”

I moaned, feeling him push it back in, as deep as he could.  My core tightened around his digit.  He smiled, adding a second one in, and my toes curled as he expertly worked himself into me. 

“You know, for a man who just lost his virginity last night, you’re amazing with your fingers, Steve…you’re amazing with…everything…”

“Mmm.  It’s because we were made for each other bunny,” he sighed happily.  My eyes fluttered shut as he continued pumping his fingers into me softly, “my god, bunny, you’re going to look so perfect swollen with my child…Mrs. Rogers…we’re creating a family before we leave here…”

My core tightened at his dirty promises, the ring on my finger glimmering innocently as I let my hands slip back to his hair and start tugging as his lips gently kissed my clit.

Chapter 14

Tag List:  @lohnes16, @sebsgirl71479, @melissad1974, @whiskeytangofoxtrot555, @wintasssoldier, @tenaciousperfectionunknown

[apocalypticgargoyle]

Dream smut or fluff where reader and him are high key mean to eachotjer despite having so many mutual friends, but then something (very vague i know I’m sorry) makes them have to get close and the develop feelings? Sorry I’m shit at requests but thank you!!!

i know this is shitty im sorry akjsdh bls forgive me

𝐄𝐋𝐄𝐕𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐑. ♘ 𝐝𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

± warnings: dream being a dick, slight slut shaming, toxic behavior, vulgar/suggestive mentions and language, sexual harassment on a bus (not by dream, you can breathe)

⋆ song recommendation: When the Night is Over by Lord Huron

You pulled a blanket beneath your chin, yawning slightly at whatever the tv was playing. You only had it on in an attempt to drown out the noises coming from your roommate's bedroom as she smoozed her date. You were honestly shocked the two hadn’t moved in together yet with all the time they spent wrapped up.

Her door opened, her eyes widening slightly at the sight of you sprawled out on the couch. He marched toward you quietly, hovering over your shoulder. You peered up at her hesitantly. “What are you watching?” She asked, voice barely above a whisper. You furrowed your brows, opening your mouth to speak but she hurriedly cut you off. “Do you mind watching it at Nick’s instead?”

You raised your eyebrows. “You’re kicking me out again?” She gave you an apologetic smile, making you roll your eyes as you stood up and pulled on your jacket. “This would hurt less if they also paid rent,” you mumbled, with a small glare.

She thanked you repeatedly, holding onto your arm as you gathered what little belongings you needed for the night. “I promise I’ll make it up to you,” she courted, opening the door for you. “Tomorrow, dinner’s on me okay?” You sent her a tired look and she apologized again. She stopped you as you stepped out into the cold night, leaning through the space between the door and the frame. “Maybe you can cozy up to that Clay guy? You guys have such a good vibe,” she mocked, making you chuckle lightly.

You shook your head, waving to her. “Enjoy your night. Please, for the love of God, clean the bathroom afterward,” you called, hearing her laugh at your statement.

The bus ride was quiet due to the time of night and the weather, both of which you didn’t mind. You knew Nick’s house would be warm and loud. Before you knew it, you found yourself in front of his apartment door, kicking at the concrete ground as you heard someone stumbling to let you inside. The door opened swiftly, Clay’s large frame blocking the light from the kitchen. He leaned against the doorframe mockingly as he looked at you.

He wet his lips. “Who’s the lucky guy tonight?” He joshed.

You rolled your eyes, brushing past his body to get out of the cold. “Whoever’s dick you’re not sucking, I guess,” you quipped back, making him laugh darkly. You kicked off your shoes as he shut the door. “Where’s Sapnap?” You asked, shrugging off your jacket. You’d texted him ahead of time to ask if you could stay over, which he readily agreed to.

Clay sent you a smug look. “You guys have a fun night planned?” He made a gesture with his hand to insinuate you were there to give Nick a handjob.

You bit back a chuckle. “Why? You wanna join?” You shot back. He bit his lip and moaned pornographically.

“Cut it out, Dream,” Nick grumbled as he walked into the room. He pulled on your arm to follow him.

Dream scoffed exasperatedly. “Me? I’m not the one who started it!” He called after the two of you.

As Nick pushed you out of the room, you turned your head. “You most certainly did!” You answered. You heard him chuckle at your words as Nick shut the door to his room. You plopped down on his bed as he sat in his chair, swiveling to look at you. “Why does Dream pick at me so much?” You mumbled, fishing in your pockets for your phone.

“He’s jealous,” Nick answered absent-mindedly. “What's the date look like tonight?” He asked, referring to the reason you were there in the first place. This wasn’t the first time or the last time your roommate had kicked you out. It was becoming a more frequent occurrence for you to end up on Nick’s couch or at their place in the middle of the day with your toothbrush and a change of clothes.

You moved to lean into his pillows. “I don’t know, it's the same granola fucker she’s been hanging around,” you answered.

He rubbed his chin with a slight smirk. “There’s a subtle justice to knowing she’s still with that asshat,” he commented, making you snort.

A week later, you were on your way back to your apartment after a lecture when someone felt you up. It was the straw on the camel’s back for you as you spin around to smack the guy, stirring up a few of the bystanders. You’d walked the rest of the way home, stepping through the door to be met with your roommate and her hookup twisted together in the kitchen.

You clamped your hand over your eyes, mumbling about how you just wanted to take a nap when you were once again sent to Nick’s. You let subtle tears fall as you trudged your way across the city, hoping to get out whatever darkness you had to your attitude. The last thing you wanted to do was confront Clay looking like you did. He was like the troll with the keys to the bridge. That was really the only reason the two of you ever talked, so you knew he’d be waiting to berate you before you could get to Nick.

As you walked into the building, you spotted Clay carrying a large box, his hair slightly disheveled and his hands dirty. You knew almost instantly that he was probably attempting to fix the kitchen sink and got a call because of the size of the package. That sink had been dripping since they’d moved in, making it Clay’s mission to futz around with it every Friday afternoon. You tried helping him one time, only ending up with a deflated sense of confidence and the second wave of your childhood anger issues.

He nodded at you as you held the elevator door open for him. “What’s up, babycakes?” He chirped, popping his gum. When you hesitated to answer, he looked at you fully, scoffing. “Damn, walk of shame gone sour?”

You crossed your arms over your chest, inhaling deeply to try and calm your nerves. “I’m not really in the mood today,” you muttered, tucking your hands between your back and the wall.

He snorted, setting the box down between his feet. “You’re always in the mood! Isn’t that like your thing,” he continued to jeer. “You look like you had a fun night though-”

“Clay, stop. I’m serious,” barked at him. His expression twisting at your use of his name.

He raised his hands in mock defense. “Sorry, I thought we had---like a bit thing, um-” he cut himself off, awkwardly shoving his fists in his pockets. After a beat of silence between the two of you, the elevator came to a sharp halt on the wrong floor, the light switching to red. The two of you shared a look, knowing that the landlord was probably flipping the wrong switches again. Clay texted Nick to see what was going on.

It began to grow colder in the elevator, as it usually did. When it was off, the cold from outside usually seeped in through the elevator shaft. There was one time you were stuck in the elevator for a few hours with one of your neighbors and Karl when he had come to visit. Back then, the three of you played Uno on the guy’s phone. It was also summer, so the chill creeping up your legs wasn’t as intolerable as it was now.

You rubbed the arms of your sweater in hopes of generating some kind of warmth. Clay watched you carefully, his hands moving to grip the bar behind him. “Do you want my sweatshirt?” He offered. You shook your head, sliding onto the ground and hugging your knees to your chest. He hesitantly slumped down beside you, kicking his long legs out towards the door. The red light filling the space made his features look softer.

He nudged your arm gently with his own. “I know I’m not Sapnap, but…” he chewed on the inside of his cheek, shrugging slightly, “I mean, we’re stuck in here. We can talk about it.”

You blinked away the tears threatening to spill once again, your eyes burning and tired. “I haven’t slept with him, you know?” You stated, turning to look at him briefly before moving to sit cross-legged, planning with your fingers. “I’ve never even kissed him. I’ve never kissed anyone,” you scoffed. Clay was silent, but out of the corner of your eye, you could see him watching you intently.

Being this close to him, you could smell the smoky vanilla undertones of his cologne. The scent reminded you of a masculine version of the candle your aunt always burned when she went out for a night to spite her ex-husband.

Clay leaned his head back against the wood paneling, his soft blond hair flattening in the back to spread against the wall. You swallowed, sighing slightly. “I haven’t even had my first kiss yet and I’m getting groped on the bus and kicked out of my damn apartment because my roommate and her fucking boyfriend have to hook up on every surface. Nothing is sacred.” You shook your head, wiping away some stray tears with the back of your hand and sniffling pathetically. “You can keep making slut jokes, I don’t care. But I swear to God, I haven’t done anything with Sapnap. Or Karl, or Quackity. No one.”

He chuckled softly. “I know. That’s why I used to make those jokes,” he mumbled. “It was like… ironic humor. And then it got so far that the only way I knew you’d talk back to me was if I was fucking around with you,” he admitted. You chuckled slightly at his words, taking a deep breath.

“Oh, Dream,” you sighed. “I would have hooked up with you if you weren’t such an ass,” you chided. His laugh made you feel better. He held his hand out to you, more for support than anything, but as you laced your fingers with his, your heart eased, feeling safe beside him.

After a beat of silence, he spoke up again. "I can ride the bus with you now... if you want..." He offered, a shyness that seemed so foreign to his character shown through his eyes. "I promise I won't grope you," he joshed, making you roll your eyes.

"That's really not something we should be joking about," you mumbled, wiping away the rest of your tears on your sleeve.

His thumb brushed against the back of your hand soothingly. "I mask my awkwardness around you in dark humor. I'm sorry."