#more evidence is available on request

[jessieren]

According to @librawritesstuff its the Sunday Confessional today and my confession revolves around a personal penchant for Evans and gum..

So, along with being handsome, talented and seemingly generally adorable, it seems our guy also likes minty fresh breath and is often spotted (by me at least) chewing gum.

Exhibit A below...

[sukunasteeth]

Sukuna has never said no to you.

It didn’t matter what the request was, simple or complicated, easy to fix or a days-long job, Sukuna was always at your side, completing the task as fast as he needed to to keep you satisfied. He would love to deny it, you’re sure, but evidence proves time and time again that he puts your needs and wants at the top of his priority list. 

And you were curious how far you could go with it.

The two of you are sitting in your underwear at the breakfast nook, warming yourselves in the bay window while the morning sun starts on the leftover night time chill. It wasn't quite time for breakfast, still too early for the both of you. In the meantime, you sip on your morning brews, preserving the comfortable silence. Sukuna is flipping through the day's newspaper, his eyes are groggy with sleep and he hasn't said more than a handful of words to you yet. He wasn't a morning person.

You were starting to change that.

"Kuna," You call to him, nudging him with your foot from your corner of the window bench.

"Hmm?" He doesn't look up from the paper, but his hand reaches down and grabs your foot, pulling it into his lap. His thumbs start to subconsciously knead at your muscles.

"I want these." You hold up your phone, which you had previously been scrolling through in an attempt to find something ridiculous for this exact moment. You were sure you had found it, something even Sukuna would find unnecessary. 

And yet, he merely glances at your screen, takes in the sight for all of two seconds, and then returns his attention to whatever news article he was in the middle of.

"My wallet's on the counter." He clears the sleep from his throat not sparing a second look. 

You blink at him in surprise.

"D-Did you even see what it is?" You flip your phone around to make sure you were displaying the correct thing. 

Sukuna is frowning before he looks up again, curious at your persistence. He gently cups your hand, bringing it only a minuscule amount closer to examine your screen a second time. 

You were on one of the most luxurious brand’s websites, showing him an incredibly regular pair of panties, no straps, no details, all black- with one of the most outrageous price tags you had ever seen for something so ordinary. 

Sukuna cocks a brow at you over your phone, "Can't imagine you need more panties when you're constantly stealing my boxers. But whatever, hand it over. I know my card number-"

"Kuna," You interrupt him with a surprised laugh, holding fast to your phone when he tries to pluck it out of your hands, "they're a thousand dollars."

He glances back, his eyes focusing lower on the screen where you know the price tag to be. The newspaper in his hands drops down, momentarily forgotten by what he sees. For a moment, you think you've found his limit.

"Wait, are those red one's assless?" He points just below the price, where the recommended products are depicted. "Get those too."

You drop the phone down so that he meets your eyes, which are wide with shock.

Sukuna always took care of you. Always insisted on being the provider of any single thing that you may need; a warm meal, a soft bed, anything your eyes twinkled at that was available for purchase- even if you would never think of buying or owning it. Granted, you never wanted much in terms of material possessions, so you didn't realize the true extent of Sukuna's leniency until now.

It was slightly intimidating, and part of it felt wrong. Sukuna had money, plenty of it, but that didn’t mean he should feel the need to spend copious amounts of it on you just because you could ask him to. He was giving you too much power, it felt like.

You huff through your nose, frowning at him, which only has him tilting his head further to the side in question.

You ignore it, setting your phone onto the window seat and crawling your way closer to him, until you can gather up his face in your hands and lock his gaze into yours.

He glares at you past smushed cheeks, but doesn't make a move to break free of your hold, humoring you. "The hell are you doing-"

"You know you don't always have to say yes to me?"

Now that has him taken aback. His mouth automatically opens for a witty response, but your question seems to have effectively taken the words from his mouth. You can see the cogs in his head turning, and what you wouldn't give to peer inside his mind and hear his thoughts.

It takes him a moment, but eventually that familiar confident smile stretches across his sleepy face. His hands seem to instinctively slide their way up your bare legs until his fingers grip your hip bones, pressing into you. 

He hums, "When have you ever said no to me?"

You scoff, ready to give him a prime example, but end up coming up short. The two of you loved to tease each other with disobedience, but in the end you were eager to give Sukuna anything his heart desired. You loved to please him, it was one of your favorite things to do, in fact.

"You never ask anything ridiculous of me." You remind him, smiling as one of his warm hands slides back down your waist and dips into the pair of his boxers you were sporting that day. 

"You know what's ridiculous?” His voice wraps around your throat, and suddenly has you swallowing past the delicious grip. You're folding into him before you even realize it, at the mercy of his calloused hands. "The implication that I wouldn't do just about anything for you."

You can't help but sigh hopelessly, although it comes out as a desperate noise that pleads him for more. You really were all his, just like he loved to tell you.

"Now hand me your phone." It's a whisper, coaxing you. "I wanna see you in red."

You can’t say no. 

At least it was mutual.

[reidrum]

close to home | s.r

pairing: spencer reid x reader

a/n: this has been rotting in my brain for days now i hope you enjoy the angsty comfort this brought me <3 my requests are open (guidelines in pinned!) or if you wanna just chat hop in my ask box :) gonna hopefully work on a smut fic in the next week so keep an eye out hehe

cw: angst, hurt/comfort, protective!spencer, afab!reader who uses she/her pronouns, non bau!reader, cm type violence, reader sustains injuries from unsub, vague description of injuries, maeve mentions, derek being a good friend, spencer being so in love with reader, this takes place probably a year after maeve, inconsistencies with tls and characters but who cares

wc: 2.4k

summary: the bau is working a local case when their unsub strikes again mid investigation, hotch tells reid and morgan to go check it out but spencer finds the address of the crime to be a little too familar

_______________________________________________

Whenever the BAU has a case based in the D.C. area, it’s always a little easier on the team. Familiar stomping grounds, ease of resources, no major time difference, and everyone can sleep in their own beds. The hard part about home cases is knowing there’s a serial killer in the place they know deeply, with people they cared about deeply.

Spencer and Callahan are in the middle of the bullpen staring at the giant white board with all the evidence they have so far. The unsub has been killing women in their mid 20s in the local dc area, with the mo currently unknown. there had already been two victims, both killed in their homes. Spencer was currently trying to analyze all the information the case had alongside with what Garcia was able to provide, and he was still hitting a dead end. Morgan had joined them at some point too, trying to offer what he could remember from the crime scenes but to no avail. He felt his eyes straining and dropping so he decided to get more coffee, but was stopped by Hotch and Garcia entering the bullpen.

“Police just got a 911 call about a break in, but there’s a witness this time. She was home when it happened and it looks like he didn’t expect that and tried to knock her out before escaping. I think it sounds like our unsub. Morgan and Reid, I need you to go check out the scene and interview the witness, see what she remembers.” Hotch explained.

Morgan and Reid nodded as Garcia spoke up, “I just sent the address to your phones, it’s a house on Hillcrest so it's not that far from here.”

Spencer froze. he had to have heard wrong, she did not say Hillcrest, “Did you say Hillcrest?”

“Yeah, Hillcrest Drive. It’s like, a 15 minute drive, not that far.”

He felt his heart drop to his feet, a sinking feeling building in his gut. That was the street you lived on. He tried to ground himself with logic, the probability of it being your house is only 10%, but he was dreading asking the fated question.

“Garcia, what’s the house number?”

“Reid, I already sent it to your pho-“

“Garcia, what is the house number,” he spoke again. 

Please don’t say 1159. Please don’t say 1159. Please don’t say-

“1159.”

Fuck. The color drained from his face, and the nausea was building to a head quickly. Spencer hurriedly tried to think through the last time he spoke to you. Last night? This morning? He doesn’t check on you as much as he does when he’s not on a case, but oh my god why can’t he remember the last time he saw you.

“Reid,” Hotch bellows, finally breaking spencer out of his trance, “What is it? What do you know?”

He shook his head, “Nothing. Morgan, let’s go.” he grabbed his jacket and booked it out the door.

Morgan, Garcia, and Hotch all looked at each other in concern, before Morgan spoke up, “I’ll see what’s up.” The latter two nodded softly, though the worry didn’t let up in their eyes.

Morgan walked up to the car to find Spencer repeatedly trying to call someone on the phone, clearly unable to get through and getting really frustrated.

Spencer was alerted by Morgan’s presence hearing the car unlock but he didn’t even look at him, just immediately got in the car and strapped his seat belt. Morgan joined him in the drivers seat giving him a wary look before turning the car on and pulling out of the bureau.

“Okay Reid, spill it. It’s obvious you know who lives here.” Morgan speaks up.

“Just drive, please.”

“Because if you know something, something that could help the case, it would be helpful if we knew.”

“Morgan, just drive.” he borderline yells.

He raises his eyebrows at his raised voice, “Listen kid, i’m just trying to help you. I can see you’re upset but we’re on the same side, you know that.”

Spencer takes a shaky breath, feeling another shade of guilt at yelling at one of his friends, for something he didn’t even know about. He’d kept you a secret for many reasons— your relationship with him was still new, and he just wanted to keep you to himself for a bit. After what happened with Maeve, he felt especially more responsible at keeping you safe and making sure you didn’t get tangled up in his line of work.

Some job he did of that.

The one thing he regrets about how he handled the Maeve situation, was not asking for help until it was almost too late. For not doing anything about her stalker when he was part of one of the most famous fbi teams built to find people like that. He’d always live with that guilt, but he vowed not to do that with you.

He loved you so much. You were so kind, and smart, and beautiful. A breath of fresh air after feeling lost in a dark tunnel for so long. You were so understanding when he explained what he did for a living, and what had happened to him and people he cared about as a result. He still remembers what you said to him when he told you that you could have an out, if you wanted.

“Any risk is worth taking if getting to be with you is the consolation prize.”

Tears welled up in eyes thinking about the memory. If you were willing to take any risk, then he should be able to as well.

He cleared his throat, and Morgan’s ears perked up, “My uh, my girlfriend lives there. Where the unsub, at- attacked.” he voiced softly.

Morgan looked at him for a beat while driving, Spencer missing the way his face dropped. He tightened his hands on the wheels, and without hesitation he turned the lights and siren on and shifted gears to speed up.

__

The car pulled onto your street and the first thing Spencer sees is the flashing light of the ambulances. Morgan doesn’t even put the car in park before Spencer’s bolting out hoping he can find you quickly.

He’s asking all the paramedics he’s passing if they’ve seen you or know if you’re being treated, were you transferred to a hospital and he didn’t know. The tunnel vision slowly overtaking him until he hears a voice breaking through like sunlight call out his name.

He whips his head in the direction he heard it come from, and he’s never been more grateful to be met with the beautiful sight of you. You watch his eyes widen and let out a sigh before running over to where you were sitting in the back of the ambulance. He’s definitely not thinking when he goes in to hug you, not even knowing the extent of your injuries. He’s overtaken by the desperate need to hold you in his arms so he knows you’re safe and okay.

“Hi,” you choke out muffled, “Funny seeing you here.”

He pulls back to inspect your face, taking note of a small cut above your left eyebrow and the beginning splotches of a bruise forming on your lower jaw. His heart aches so much looking at you, knowing what happened to you and who did this to you.

“Hi, honey,” he lets out tearfully, “Are you okay? I mean, of course you’re not. But what did the paramedics say? Did they give you anything? Are you sure they checked all your injuries? You know what, let me go call the guy over. I’ll be two seconds.” his panicked ramble fading off as he rounds the truck you’re sat in to find the emt.

Upon his extensive questioning of the man who treated you, he found out that you had sustained a minor concussion from when the unsub swung at you with an umbrella, superficial cuts caused by a broken vase you threw to defend yourself, and a dislocated shoulder from getting shoved into the wall.

You were okay, but at what cost.

The EMT leaves you two and Spencer sits himself next to you on the rig. He wraps an arm around your waist and pulls you as tight as he can and the other hand cradles your head into the crook of his neck, holding you so tight he’s hoping he can squeeze the bad memories out of you. It’s at this moment of feeling safe and sound in his arms when the adrenaline of your attack wears off.

Spencer hears a small whimper and feels a few hot tears trickle down his neck, your breathing gets faster as you’re attempting to beat your body’s fear response. The slow build up of sobs starting to rack your chest, and he immediately holds you tighter.

“It’s over, baby, they won’t hurt you anymore. I promise.”

You sniffle, “I know, I just can’t believe this happened. To me. To us. It’s not fair to you.” trailing off the last two words.

“To me? Wh- what do you mean?”

You take a deep breath, “I don’t mean to bring it up again, I just know how eerily similar this is to a past experience you’ve had. and I hoped that I wouldn’t be in a position to make you feel that way again. I don’t know why this happened, I'm sorry.”

He looked down at you incredulously, genuinely unable to believe that you were sitting next to him on an ambulance, beaten up with bruises and scars after a home invasion attack, worried about how he would feel when he got to you. It was enough to finally let the swell of tears saved up in his eyes fall.

“Oh sweetheart,” he chokes out, realizing you’ve been trying to be brave for him this whole time, “What happened is not your fault, do you understand me? My job is to always worry about you and your safety. When Garcia said the address I…I couldn’t even process it, I don’t even know how I got to the car,” he shook his head, “But I am the last person you need to push your emotions down for. I will always take them in stride and love you even more for that, okay?”

“Okay,” you take a shaky breath, “I love you.”

“I love you.” he leans down to press a kiss to the crown of your head.

Both of your heads look up at an approaching figure, who you quickly recognize to be SSA Derek Morgan. You knew Spencer hadn’t told the team about you yet, so you tried to sit up independently as fast as you could before he came over and suspected something.

Spencer’s grip didn’t let up when he bent down and whispered, “It’s okay, he knows.” You look up at him with wide eyes when derek finally reaches you.

“Reid, I already talked to the detectives and we’re good to go when you’re ready,” he turns his body to you and gives you a comforting smile, “Hi sweetheart, I’m Derek Morgan, it’s nice to meet you.”

Spencer rolls his eyes at the nickname while you giggle softly, “Hi Derek, I’ve heard so much about you. It's nice to finally meet you too.”

“I wish it were under better circumstances,” he sighs, “Listen, I know it’s all still really fresh for you, but it might help the case if you’re able to come in for a cognitive interview, or even talk to a sketch artist.”

Spencer doesn’t miss a beat before protesting, “Absolutely not. We can do it later, it’s fine.”

“Reid-“

You look up at him placing your hand on his chest, “Spence, It’s okay. I want to help, please.”

He rests his hand on top yours and gives it a light squeeze, “Okay, but i’m not leaving you alone for a second.”

“I didn’t think you would.” you smile.

“Alright lovebirds, you can have your private time later, we should go now.” Derek teases.

Spencer groans, “See, this is why i didn’t say anything.”

“You think I’m bad? Wait till Penelope meets her.”

__

The three of you pile into the car before starting the drive to Spencer’s apartment so he could get you a change of clothes and other things you might need. You end up falling asleep in the back seat, the final stage of your shock sinking in like a rock. Spencer checks on you from the rear view mirror and sees you passed out, and smiles.

“She’s cute,” Derek starts, “Can I ask how long?”

“Nine months.” he replies, fishing for something out of his pocket.

“Pretty boy hid a girl from all of us for nine months? Maybe we’re not as good profilers as we thought.”

“Imagine that,” he laughs, and gestures to the item in his hand, “Look.”

Spencer’s holding out a well loved photo booth strip with three pictures, of you and Spencer from the time you went to a local county fair. You’re sitting in his lap, mostly due to the cramped space and the expansive limbs. The first picture is the two of you holding up finger guns attempting to be as back to back as you can. The second picture, you intended it to be a normal one where you both smile at the camera, but spencer couldn’t take his eyes off you and the picture captured the love struck gaze he had on you. The last one you were about to tell him the idea for it, when he grabbed your face and pulled you closer to kiss you, neither of you knowing when the final picture snapped.

The edges were worn out and frayed, clearly broken down by the oils on his fingers from pulling it out frequently. It was his most treasured item, a constant reminder of what was always waiting for him when he got back from grueling cases, and how lucky he was to have you in his life.

“You look really happy, kid.” Derek says, thinking about the many times he’s seen his friend at rock bottom, the things that have been so brutally taken from him, and the suffering he’s had at the hands of his job. His heart warms for his friend, who seemed to finally catch a break.

“I am.”

[ratgrinders]

Ok here's an updated timeline of the Rat Grinders based on the new info we got this episode:

Freshman Year

On the first day of classes Kipperlily and the others meet and form their adventuring party. Kipperlily comes up with the name the High Five Heroes.

Kipperlily excels academically, but the High Five Heroes only go on easier adventures, presumably to ensure they will succeed rather than fail at something challenging.

Ruben is primarily an acoustic/soft rock musician.

Kipperlily begins to have childish rage and resentment towards Riz and the other Bad Kids, which start out petty but gradually grow in intensity over the next couple years.

Sophomore Year

An increase in hostility, one of the first meetings Kipperlily has this year is being jealous that Riz's dad was killed by Kalvaxus, that if a person has suffered immense magical hardship it is an unfair advantage in adventuring.

Kipperlily tries to find evidence of conspiracy with her parents and is enraged that they are boring.

A week after spring break the High Five Heroes go on their first quest to the mountains of chaos, chaperoned by Jace Stardiamond.

After this, the High Five Heroes seem to undergo a shift where their rage is amplified. Kipperlily's counselor files become much more venomous towards the Bad Kids, Ruben shifts to emo music, etc.

At some point after this Ivy and Oisin propose changing the name to the Rat Grinders. Kipperlily opposes this and Lucy is on her side, but Ruben votes against her because it makes her upset and Mary Ann also votes against her but doesn't explain her reasoning.

A piece of paperwork is submitted for Lucy to change her god, but another piece of paperwork is filed afterwards rescinding that application, presumably by Lucy herself changing her mind.

Towards the end of the year, after grades are finalized but before classes are over thus avoiding the pass/fail penalty, Lucy dies in the far haven woods near Aguefort. Presumably, she could have been resurrected in service of this unnamed rage god, but chose not to. She "stuck to her guns".

Kipperlily's rage towards the Bad Kids has transitioned from childish to venomous, she "hates them".

Junior Year

At some point between the end of Sophomore year and the beginning of Junior year, the Rat Grinders specifically request Buddy Dawn join their party as a cleric.

At 8:01 am, the first day of classes, Kipperlily goes to Ashgrove to dig up the rogue teacher's grave, thus forcing her to reveal herself and granting Kipperlily a pass for all her rogue classes for the year. Presumably she was aware of the rogue teacher's grave beforehand (information only available in Arthur Aguefort's office) but waited until the start of Junior year so she could pass all her classes for the year.

Kipperlily announces her bid to run for student council president, with a platform based on equity, equanimity, and fairness.

Kipperlily asks Jawbone about the creation of Yes! and the events of prompocalypse

Her counselor notes become extremely enraged, with her straight up wanting to kill Kristin and being angry that she can't get to her thanks to Fig's protection.

Oisin, Ivy, and Buddy are seen at Fabian's house party during the first week of classes. Kipperlily is not seen but is possibly there invisible. The Bad Kids are asked to do drugs but decline. That same night, mephits steal part of a cloud rider engine kept in Seacaster Manor.

At the school assembly the following day Principal Grix reveals he was notified of students doing drugs off campus, meaning its possible the Rat Grinders tipped him off in an attempt to get the Bad Kids in trouble.

Ruben performs presumably some kind of ritual at the Frosty Fair Folk festival, with the other Rat Grinders conspicuously absent. Simultaneously, Yolanda Badgood falls dead in the same place where Lucy Frostblade died, after Yolanda had been made aware of Lucy's change in god and was investigating it. Yolanda also refuses to be resurrected in service of the rage god.

The Rat Grinders are seen at the assembly addressing Yolanda's death and how all clerics would be moved to pass/fail. Most look bored, Mary Ann isn't paying attention, and Buddy is unconcerned.

Kipperlily and Oisin get caught trying to sabotage the Bad Kids' Last Stand exam, and Kipperlily kills Buddy. Ten minutes after the Bad Kids plane shift away, Buddy is revived by an unknown figure and he pledges his allegiance to the rage god.

Now the Rat Grinders are scheduled for another trip to the Mountains of Chaos and are on complete lockdown, hiding all of them from Adaine's divination magic.

[lanabuckybarnes]

Would you write a plus size reader w either bucky or steve(or both) where they are her first real relationship and she gets scared that she doesn't deserve to be with either of them and so she tries to push them away so she doesn't get hurt but instead they show her why she is their person.... like tooth rotting fluff and the filthiest smut..... if that's okay if not no worries

| All Yours, Only Yours |

18+ Minors DNI

✧Pairing✧ Bucky Barnes x Plus Size!Reader

✧Warnings✧ A lil angsty, Sharon being a big bully (like seriously you’re 50 and you’re bullying someone? ick), Name calling, Angry Buck, Crying, Bucky is a simp, Confessions, Marking, Dry humping, Oral (F), Fingering (F), Teeny bit of cum play, Dirty talk, Unprotected PinV, Praise, Petnames, My shitty writing — again very tame for me but i didnt want to go overboard. If there any more I’ve neglected to add please let me know.

✧Word Count✧ 4.3K

✧Author Note✧ I really hope you enjoy this and I've done your request justice, I honestly tried my best but idk…Anyways!!! Much love to everyone, please let me know what you think. Love ya xxx

“Still not answering?” Natasha asks from her spot in the cockpit, concern evident from the wrinkle between her brows.

“Nope” he spits his reply, reeling from the whole ordeal. He thrusts his phone into his jean pocket, sick to the back teeth of nothing but a black screen greeting him instead of your sweet little messages.

“Did you piss her off or something?” Sam tries to lighten the mood but is swiftly shut down, his hands rising in surrender at the killer glare the brunette shot his way.

“Calm down everyone, we’ll be home soon so we can figure this out” Steve, the voice of reason commands order within the small confines of the jet. He sits, a gloved hand rubbing over his friend's shoulder trying to reassure his muddled brain but to no avail.

Bucky is pissed. He’s pissed and he’s worried sick. A week he’s been gone for and he’s missing you like crazy. The only issue? You are ignoring him, straight up ghosting his brooding ass which is completely unlike you. Often on missions when Bucky clicks his phone on he’s greeted with a flurry of messages from you; photos of little birds you see on your walks, photos of alpine taken at odd angles and constant little messages that make his heart full and ready to continue his painstaking missions—none of it, just a notification from your favourite restaurant offering a discount to keep him happy.

As soon as this jet landed he was going to get to the bottom of what was going on and then he was going to cuddle you to death as punishment. Not that he’d let anyone else know that.

One Week Earlier…

Beep beep beep. Bucky’s alarm sounds at the ungodly hour of five am, his groan following. He didn't want to get out of this bed, he was too warm, his huge body wrapped around yours. Your movements spurred his own, your arm reaching over to switch off his alarm while he pushed himself into a sit, thoughts already on the mission afoot.

“Morning,” your raspy voice purrs, bringing his attention back to you. His eyes fall to your face; following the slope of your puffy cheeks up to your barely open eyes, your hues peeking through only enough to tease him. Putting his weight on his right arm he’s on top of you before you can blink, his head tucked into the crook of your neck, peppering tiny kisses along the warm skin.

“Morning princess,” he bites back his yawn, shifting so his hips slot in their spot between your plush thighs, loving the way they wrapped around his narrow waist just the way he loved. Practice truly did make perfect. His dark vibranium fingers drifted from your collarbone, over the swell of your breast until it found its favourite perch on your hips.

“So fucking pretty” he breathes, his pupils dilating to let more of you in — until you pushed him away.

“You gotta get ready Mr” you giggle, moving your foot so you could push him further away, ruining his plan B of pinning you down by your hips.

“Don’t remind me…”

His cold left hand hooks around your ankle, pushing at it until your knee hinged, bending up and out. A suspicious hardness presses against you, a wicked smile on your boyfriend’s face.

“I mean it Buck we can’t, Nat will be kicking that door down any minute” he groans at your words knowing that you are completely right. That lock had been replaced an embarrassing amount of times because of that exact situation. You hated rejecting him, knowing that he could easily put you back to sleep until midday if he wanted. After a small standoff between you both you warn him again, an arch in your brow and a growl behind his name.

“You’re such a little tease, you know that?”

You laugh, sitting up, watching him skulk around the room in nothing but his grey Calvin Kleins, “I haven’t done anything!”

“Sure you haven’t” he argues, moving over to you again, his metal fingers looping under your chin to tilt your head back to gaze up at him, “Looking so fucking sexy in the morning and I can’t fuck you stupid. That’s not teasing that’s damn near criminal.”

You groan, rolling your eyes at your pouty 106-year-old man. You inch closer to his mouth, a sickly sweet definitely not bratty smirk on your face. “Get your ass ready.”

“Fine…but only because you looked so fucking sexy ordering me around,”

“Bucky!” You shout after him, blush on your full cheeks. He only smirks over his shoulder, pushing his briefs to the floor at the entrance to the bathroom, giving you a full view of his posterior.

You get up too, knowing you had been awake too long to fall asleep again. You get ready with the shower as background noise, pulling on some workout clothes. Today you decided you’d try out the gym right here in the compound, you’d been to many different ones in the past; often polluted with the smell of days-old sweat and men reeking of testosterone, grunting and groaning at weights you could only dream of lifting.

An hour later, after waving Bucky off on his week-long mission you were in the gym.

“Hey” you smile as you pass Sharon, her blonde hair whipping as she ducks and weaves to dodger imaginary punches the bag throws out before throwing a couple of her own. She offers you a tight-lipped smile, her eyes straying from your face down your body. She takes note of your long top and shorts that settle around mid-thigh compared to her sports bra and tiny shorts — her flat stomach and sculpted legs on display.

God you wish you had just as much ventilation. Just as you go to place your earphones in your ears you hear a scoff coming from Sharon’s direction. You pay it no mind, setting the treadmill for a nice incline and pace, pressing the timer until it shone with the time you wanted.

The treadmill slowed for the cooldown. Your eyes moved from the display in front to glance over your shoulder, the gym was empty. You grab your bottle only to realise thanks to your distraction you'd finished off your water. You stop the treadmill and hop off, making a beeline for the kitchen. The walk to the kitchen from the gym wasn’t that long but with the feeling of your sweat culminating in places you didn’t want it to be it was almost torturous.

“I couldn’t believe it when I saw her,”

A gaggle of hushed laughs comes from the kitchen, stopping you. A familiar dread coils in your stomach, reminding you of when you were young, the children pointing and laughing — joking at your expense.

“she must been on that treadmill for about five minutes and she was all like huff huff” she laughs obnoxiously “Her face was like a big tomato, I almost died trying to keep myself from laughing” Sharon continues.

The group cackles again at your expense, almost doubling as Sharon makes the huffing noise again. You cling to your shirt, pulling it from sticking to your body. These women you thought were friends did just what everyone else did.

“She’s pathetic, I don’t know what Bucky sees in her” Your heart stops. That little devil on your jumps and cheers at the confirmation of what it has been telling you since the start of your relationship with Bucky. You were never enough.

“I can’t wait for him to dump her once he gets sick of her wide load.”

Tears fall on their own accord but you don't register them, too busy inside your head being suffocated by every doubt and self-conscious thought you ever had since you confessed your feelings for the super soldier. You didn't deserve Bucky and everyone thought that too.

Back at your room, freshly clean. You scrolled through your messages from Bucky. The little hearts next to his messages no longer felt genuine like he was only doing it merely to save your feelings from being hurt. You were nothing but a burden that he was forced to bear; it wouldn’t be long before like Sharon said, he got sick of the clinginess and the need for reassurance and broke up with you.

Well, you weren’t going to be a burden any longer. You wouldn’t let him break your heart first. You turned your phone off, tucking it into your bedside drawer.

—

“Bucky wait!” Sam calls from the quinjet but it goes ignored. Bucky’s face is twisted in annoyance as he takes wide, purposeful steps towards the tower doors. He was going to find you and you were going to tell him why the fuck you were ignoring him.

He ignores the shouts of his name as Nat, Steve and Sam follow him indoors, smashing the elevator button with his thumb and stepping inside. Once on your floor, he stormed like a charging bull to your room, slamming a gloved fist on your door in a poor excuse for a knock.

The loud knocking from the other end of the room had you jumping back in your seat, the slee overtaking you gone in an instant. Your heart lurched at the familiar face, worn from exhaustion and malice clear from the scrunching of his forehead and tick in his cheek muscle.

“Oh hello, where have you been?” Bucky snaps, glaring down at you as you use the door as a shield from his scrutinising eyes. Here it comes, the moment you’d prepared for all week. You don’t think you’ll go back to dating apps, too many weird me—

“You know how worried I was when you didn't answer me all week?”

Huh. “Huh?”

“‘Huh?’ Are you joking? You ghosted me, left me scared to death on a mission halfway across the globe and all you can say to me is huh!” His blue eyes glisten and you look at them closer. There was no anger there, only concern and fear culminating in swirls across his blue orbs, rearing its head in rage across Bucky’s face.

“Bucky I—” you try but you can’t find the words, each syllable sticks in your throat, balling up until it feels like you can no longer breathe. The week of bottled-up emotions spills forth at the sight of him — at the revelation that he was utterly terrified. Tears fall from your eyes before you know it, your lip wobbling as you keep trying to speak.

Bucky’s shoulders tense at the sight of tiny tears falling over your full cheeks, guilt replacing his earlier pain,

“Fuck c’mere baby” he pulls you close, bending at an almost uncomfortable angle just to hold you as close as humanly possible.

“I'm so sorry for being so annoyed but you have to see why I was so scared something had happened to you. You left me on read for an entire week and blanked my calls. That isn’t you, you know how scary that was for me?” He whispers so softly, backing you up to sit on your bed.

In his arms, surrounded by his warmth and scent the week you had fell from your mouth like alphabet soup, from the gym to Sharon to how hard it was to ignore your phone knowing that Bucky would’ve been calling you every single day but you did it to protect your own heart. Nothing was kept a secret.

“I’ll kill her,” he growls when you finish, muscles tightening even more around you.

“Buck.”

“Right…sorry, I won't kill her” He lied between his teeth, well sort of. He wouldn’t actually kill Sharon but he knew you'd be upset if he did anything to her which he was indeed planning to do but to save you any more pain for the evening, to keep that teeny tiny smile on your face he lied.

“What makes her think she has any fucking right to speak on other people’s appearance anyway?”

“She wasn't lying…” it came out in the tiniest little voice, maybe your way of silently hoping he didn't hear it and he wouldn’t have if it weren't for his super soldier ears.

Gripping onto your wrists Bucky flipped your world in an instant, the breath leaving your lungs as your back makes contact with the bed, your wrists caught on either side of your head.

“Are you lying to me doll?” He says, raising a brow at you.

“No…”

“You are! You're lying right to my face,” he argues, pressing your wrists further into the mattress below. Your eyes fall shut as his face inches closer to yours.

“Look at me princess,” he waits until you open both eyes again, looking up at him as if he strung the stars in the sky “There is not a single thing that I'd change about you and I mean that. I fell in love with you the way you are now, you aren't some bitch that gets off on making fun of others. I fell head over damn heels for you because you are you.”

His eyes sparkle with adoration, his hands running up and down your body softly. The juxtaposition of metal on one side and warmth on the other sends shivers up your spine.

“I love you,” he breathes, leaning down again till your lips graze his. A teasing smile pulled on the pink corners of his mouth, a similar glint in his eyes, “you know that right?”

“Yes,” you nod, pushing up to close the distance between your mouths but he pulls away.

“I don't think you do,”

“I do Buck I promise.”

“Well…” he began, the glint in his eyes dulling as want engulfed the colour, “let me make sure.”

Bucky takes his time. He has to knowing that you're feeling small. Slowly his lips slot with yours, ushering out sweet little sounds to replace the broken ones that still thrum fresh in his mind.

“I love you,” he says again, capturing your hitched gasp with his tongue as he pushes it past the seam of your mouth, the tip flicking against your own to entice it to mingle. Slowly but surely the tension drips from your shoulders, your arms moving from his grip to trail up over his rigid stomach and chest. They sink below the shoulder pads of his jacket, pushing it off his broad frame and onto the floor beside the bed. Your hands paw at the exposed skin on his arm, fingers squeezing, nails scraping over the corded muscle.

“All of yours…all of it.”

Each time the seal of your mouths broke you chase them, planting kisses teeming with nothing but raw desire onto kiss-bitten lips. The words that Sharon said are long gone from your mind now, replaced by the man in front of you. Everything you smell, taste, touch and see — it's all him.

The brunette slips off his glove; his warm and cold, metal hand grips your hips, pulling you up into his lap with a squeak.

“You feel that?” He grunts, moving from your mouth down your face to your neck. His lips suck and his teeth nibble, marking you, proving to anyone around that dare dispute his love for you again. With undeniable strength he grinds you down into a sizeable bulge poking from his tight jeans, he hisses at the contact, letting a hand fall to your ass with a small spank.

Your arousal seeps through your thin panties making them stick to your dainty folds; your clit buzzes at the delicious scratch the metal of his zip brings you — a gasp catching in your throat every time your neglected nub catches the pull tab.

As much as he worshiped the way you dry-humped his cock, soaking the front of his jeans. Bucky is desperate. After a week of no contact, not even a tiny emoji heart never mind a raunchy photo, he needs something — anything. And he's going to get it.

“Get on the bed” he demands, pushing at you ever so slightly. “Panties off.”

You do as you are told, fingers frantically hooking into the waistband of your underwear, rolling the material over your thick thighs until they hook around a single ankle.

“Spread those legs for me baby, lemme see that sweet little cunt.”

You hesitate for a second, your legs twitching to open but knees knocking again as you close them. Blown pupils snap onto your face his jaw clenched hard and his nostrils flared. Before you can react his calloused hands settle gently, luring you into a false sense of security.

They soothe down your thighs as his blue eyes study you. Inch by inch his dull nails tap over your beautifully wide thighs until he's back at your kneecaps. With a soft unassuming smile, bucky pushes your legs wide, a rush of oxygen leaving you as your sopping folds are exposed to the cool air of the room. He doesn't give you a chance to breathe before a warm hand smacks over your wet folds, your body jerks, an unabashed moan flying from your parted lips.

“Don't fucking deny me this” he growls, fire roaring in his eyes. “You ghosted me for a week, now you're gonna lie there all pretty and let me eat this sweet fucking cunt.”

You nod, biting your lip. At the first presence of him between your legs, his hot breath billowing over your labia, your eyes roll into the back of your skull. Over each fold, ridge and crevice his breath fans, a shiver rolling over your spine each time; without warning he lays his tongue flat and wide, licking a strip from hole to clit. His tongue disappears and he does it again, guttural sounds falling from him at your taste mixing with the sharp trills you let out.

“Sing for me baby, let me know how good I'm making that pretty pussy feel” He delves in like a man starved, devouring your cunt as though it were his first and last ever meal on earth. He'd die happily if it were.

You were a mess, a mess of pleading cries. Your legs shake against his powerful hold, your hands grip his unruly brunette locks. Letting his hands drop from your thighs he stops his slurping to lay a soft, sweet peck on your raw clit. He smiles up at you, his face glistening with your juices visible thanks to the city lights peeking in through your open windows. Your mind wandered, wondering if the people in the building across could see the way Bucky fucked his tongue into you, curling the long muscle up to press against that ridged spot on your upper walls — he hit it with ease every time.

Using your distraction as an advantage bucky moves a hand to join his mouth, sliding his fingers in alongside his tongue for a second before he pulls his tongue from you. He moves, looming over you with a massive shit-eating grin at how much he unravelled you. you should've been embarrassed at how wet his face was; slick ran from his stubbled upper lip over and below his chin. You had done that to him and he wore it proudly. His fingers push deeper and curl out, coaxing the coils in your stomach to snap.

“Come on baby I know you feel it” he speeds up, the sound of your messy pussy almost as loud as your harsh breaths and whimpers.

“Buckyyy” you squeal, gripping at anything you can.

“That's it, baby…you're squeezing around my fingers, are you gonna cum?”

You nod but it's not enough for your man. He dips, nipping at a pebbled nipple and that's all it takes for those tightly coiled ropes to pull taut and snap. A sound you've never heard from yourself erupts from your lungs, your fingers clutching at bucky, the sheets, anything. Stars peppered your vision, blocking out the smug image of your boyfriend, blood rushing in your ears muffling his words of praise.

“Come back to me baby, that's it, good girl. such a good girl” Bucky coos, his fingers slipping out to rub lazily at your clit. He keeps going until you jerk harshly in his hold.

“You did so well, such a good fucking girl cumming like that for me” He praises, kissing your cheek and then your mouth, a smirk pulling at his lips when you moan at your taste.

You flash him a big dopey smile in return, your eyes hazy and your plump little cheeks flushed. You look gorgeous; Bucky had seen many things in his long drawn-out life but nothing could ever compare to how you looked fucked out beneath him.

He would stay like this forever…if his cock wasn't aching for release.

He stands, fiddling with his belt and fly until it comes loose. He wastes no time in pushing them both past his round ass and onto the floor, his cock springing free. His shirt goes next, thrown somewhere in your small room letting you get the full experience of what Bucky had to offer you. Layers of corded muscle ripple beneath his silky but scarred skin, his chest peppered in tiny curly hairs that sink below his sternum and over his abs where they begin to thicken until they finish, well trimmed at the base of his thick, heavy cock.

His eyes never stray from your body as he takes himself in his hand, pumping once, twice, his thumb catching the precum leaking from his tip. He kneels back between your welcoming legs, rubbing his slick thumb over your lips. A hushed chuckle vibrates in his chest as you suck the thumb into your mouth, eagerly licking his taste from the digit.

“Such a dirty girl,” you giggle, pulling back until his thumb slips out of your mouth with a pop. “Do you think you can handle one more hm? Can you let me fuck that little hole?”

“yes Buck” you smile, your eyes falling shut as he kisses you again.

“good girl” he growls, moving your legs over his own before grabbing a pillow to squish under your hips. With one hand he pushes the head of his length through your mess, dipping into your hole before running back up over your clit. He does it a few times, occasionally slapping his cock against you, praising each tiny sound you let out.

“Please Buck” You toss your head back, grinding your hips up to meet nothing. At this rate, you were going to come to nothing more than his teasing.

“Please what?” Oh he's a piece of shit. He knows what you want because he wants it too. He waits for a beat, enjoying your huffs of frustration. “Tell me and I'll do it.”

With the last of your sanity, you cry out, “fuck me buck ple—ah”

You slap a hand over your mouth as he spears into you, stretching you like he does time and time again. It never gets any easier with a size like Bucky’s; his tip kissing your cervix with each thrust and your walls sing at the almost painful stretch.

Bucky’s thrusts are delightfully slow, letting you feel each drag and push, each rigid vein on his pulsing cock. There is no fucking involved, he's making love, making sure you know that he would spend eternity wrapped up in your body no matter what size you are. The deep coloured marks along your neck and between your thighs would attest to that.

“Fuck” he moans, mouth gaping. “Don't think ill last long princess” His vibranium fingers fall to your soft belly, skating over the smooth skin to your full hip.

He squeezes hard enough to leave marks, “fucking mine.”

His thrusts speed up, his head snapping back and eyes rolling. His balls bounce rhythmically against your ass, the bulbous head of his cock smashing into the end of your cunt where a dull ache forms — a warning of future hurt when you wake tomorrow. You don't care, not when his free hand dips between you both, pulling back the hood of your sensitive nub and flicking it over and over.

He feels the way you tighten around him, holding him in a vice grip, “hold it princess, just a little longer come on”

“I can't Bucky please” you whimper in response.

“Yes, you can baby—oh fuck I'm close” his weight falls atop yours, smothering you in him. His hips stutter, his balls pulling up towards his body.

“Cum now, soak my big fucking dick.”

The slamming of the headboard ceases when his thrusts slow to shallow grinding, his mouth swallows any sounds you let out.

“Such a good fucking girl for me—shit” he sighs, slips from you with a hiss.

“Buck—”

“Shh pretty girl you're alright” he holds you close for a while, holding you tight to his broad body. Tears fall from your cheeks but he swipes them away. You don't know why you ever doubted Bucky, he's the only constant in your life.

“I love you” He whispers as the blood rushing in your ears settles, running through your veins in exhaustion.

“I love you too”

“Don't you ever listen to those idiots again, because I will show you over and over what you mean to me” Bucky promises with a kiss on the crown of your head.

You smile, laying your own lazy kiss over your thumping heart. You like the sound of that.

I DO NOT give permission to have my work copied, translated or reposted. If you see my work anywhere else except this page I have not given consent for it to be used.

Comments, Reblogs, Likes and Asks are always appreciated, however if you like this fic please consider reblogging to help it reach a wider audience. They let me know that you are enjoying what I read and give me motivation to write more.

Thanks for reading~

[matchesarelit]

Imagine If You Will...

Acting as the Frontman's PA, and having the Guard harem wrapped around your finger.

This part is:

PA Announcer

Musical Fan!reader

This will be a choose your adventure kind of thing where there will be multiple with jobs/specialties/interactions.

a/n: Hope you like Mamma Mia xoxo

Please don't hesitate to request!!

Walking a few steps behind the Frontman, peering through your silver mask and analysing the clipboard in your hands you updated your boss on the status of everything being prepared for the games.

Based on the grunts and scoffs he let out you crossed out and marked different items on the list. For a man of little words, he sure was good at communicating. After the large doors to the hall closed, you looked first to your boss then to the militia-like staff.

Handing over the checklist to the closest square, you nodded to your boss and turned to leave.

“Squares 1 through 16, Your men will be painting the halls. Squares 18 through 21, Your men will construct the bridge. Squares 22 and 23..." As you approached your office the front man's voice faded away.

There was a surprising amount of paper work for a company that strived to leave no traceable evidence, you supposed they needed to be completely aware of the crimes that the company had committed as to better cover their tracks. That being said, you would swear that the pile had grown since before breakfast.

So sitting down in your little office you pulled off your mask and began to sort through the first few files. After certain issues and unauthorised branches sprung up in the command structure of the previous year's games, you been given the tedious task of vetting all potential contestants.

The main rules were; no one with medical training, we cant have another spout of organ harvesting, no one with knowledge that could reduce or alter the difficulty of the games, aka no more glass guys, and so on and so forth for what seemed to be an unending and ever growing pile of filters.

You'd made it through half of the pile, removing a few of the contestants for their quote unquote leadership qualities, when an alarm chimed from your phone. Tugging forward the microphone you grabbed the notes from today's agenda, before crackling the speakers to life with the press of a button.

'It is now midday. Lunch will be available to grab under the sun for the next 90 minutes. Today's music choice is... mine and will be the entire Mamma Mia musical soundtrack followed by twenty minutes of me replaying my favourite songs.'

Pressing play on the album and turning off the microphone you opted to return to your work for the time being, only now there was the occasional humming along.

When a tapping came from your window you finally stopped, slipping your silvery mask back into place and tugging back the unnecessarily extravagant curtain you observed a single circle giving you a thumbs up.

Waving to him you stepped closer and peered to the side, down the hall stood a group grooving, and as you pressed your ear to the glass you could hear their voices singing along.

Sneaking your secure and very dumb brick of a phone out of your pocket you started to record, before noticing the circle was now waving for you to join them.

Deciding... screw it you leaned your phone against the sill and slipped out of the office to join the gaggle of guards. Only then did you notice just how loud the PA system was set to as the concrete under your feet vibrated with the music.

Dancing and singing along, the group seemed to grow as the album played on... until your boss' brash tone cracked over the system;

'Okay that's enough, go get your food.'

Oh yeah... lunch.

[reidmarieprentiss]

Ink Impressions

Summary: Y/N is a hot new tattoo artist that Derek and Emily want to see more of...

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader

Category: fluff

Warnings/Includes: tattoos

Word count: 2.1k

main masterlist

Derek Morgan found himself walking through a part of town he didn't visit often. His steps slowed as he passed a new shop front: Ink Impressions. The sign was sleek, with an artistic flair that caught his eye. It was new, and he’d heard a few people at the gym talk about how talented the artist was. Curious, and with a rare free afternoon on his hands, Derek decided to check it out.

The interior was a mix of industrial chic and cozy comfort. Dark wooden floors complemented exposed brick walls adorned with framed tattoo designs ranging from intricate mandalas to minimalist line art. The hum of tattoo machines filled the air, mingling with the scent of antiseptic and the quiet murmur of clients and artists in conversation.

Derek approached the front desk, where a young man with a friendly smile greeted him. "Hey, welcome to Ink Impressions. How can we help you today?"

"I'm thinking about getting a tattoo," Derek replied, his voice carrying its usual confidence. "Do you guys take drop ins?"

The young man nodded, gesturing towards the back of the shop. "You’re in luck. Our lead artist is available. Her name’s Y/N. She’s amazing. I’ll take you to her."

Derek followed, feeling a mix of excitement and anticipation. They rounded a corner, and there she was. Y/N was seated at her station, her focus intense as she worked on a client's arm. She was striking, with vibrant hair that fell around her face in waves, a few tattoos peeking out from under her sleeves. She exuded an air of confidence and artistic passion that immediately drew Derek in.

The young man cleared his throat softly. "Y/N, this is Derek. He’s stopped by for a drop in. Do you think you can fit him in before your next appointment?”

Y/N looked up, her eyes meeting Derek’s with a warmth that made his heart skip a beat. She smiled, setting down her tools and removing her gloves. "Hi, Derek. It’s nice to meet you. I’d love to help you with that. Do you have any specific ideas, or would you like me to create something unique for you?"

Derek felt his usual charm waver slightly under her gaze, but he recovered quickly. "I have some ideas, but I’d love to see your take on it."

After Y/N finished with her initial client, she sat down with Derek and discussed the concept, and Y/N sketched a design that captured the essence of strength and resilience, elements that resonated deeply with Derek. Her talent was evident in every stroke, and he was impressed not only by her skill but also by the way she listened and understood the emotions behind his request.

As she prepared her station, Derek glanced around the shop, trying to mask his growing interest in her. "So, how long have you been tattooing?"

Y/N smiled, her eyes sparkling with pride. "About seven years now. I started apprenticing right out of high school and never looked back. I opened this shop a few months ago."

"That’s impressive," Derek replied, genuinely admiring her dedication.

Y/N began the tattoo, her touch gentle yet precise. "What about you? What do you do?"

"I’m an FBI agent," Derek said, watching her work. "Behavioral Analysis Unit."

Y/N looked up, a hint of intrigue in her eyes. "Wow, that sounds intense. Do you solve a lot of mysteries?"

Internally, Y/N couldn't help but laugh. She knew exactly who Derek Morgan was. Spencer had talked about him often enough—his partner at the BAU, a close friend. She could almost hear Spencer’s voice, recounting their cases, his admiration for Derek's skills and strength.

So this is the famous Derek Morgan, she thought, amused. Small world. But she kept her face neutral, professional. She didn’t want to mix business with pleasure. The last thing she needed was for Derek to know she was dating his colleague. It would complicate things, and she prided herself on maintaining a clear boundary between her personal and professional life.

"Yeah, it can be," Derek replied, oblivious to her internal amusement. "It’s challenging, but I love it."

As the session went on, Derek found himself captivated not only by Y/N’s talent but by her presence. She was easy to talk to, and he enjoyed the way she seemed genuinely interested in his stories. There was an effortless connection, a spark that he hadn’t felt in a long time.

When she finished, Derek looked at the tattoo in the mirror, his heart swelling with emotion. "It’s perfect," he said, his voice thick with gratitude. "Thank you."

Y/N smiled, her expression warm and sincere. "I’m glad you like it, Derek. It was an honor to create this for you."

As he paid and prepared to leave, Derek couldn’t help but linger. "Maybe I’ll be back for another one," he said, his tone slightly teasing.

Y/N’s smile widened, and there was a twinkle in her eye. "I’d like that. You know where to find me."

As Derek walked out of Ink Impressions, the cool air hitting his face, he couldn’t stop thinking about Y/N. He knew he’d be back—not just for another tattoo, but to see her again.

—

The bullpen was bustling with the usual Monday morning activity as the team settled back into their routines. Derek Morgan entered with a confident swagger, a fresh energy emanating from him. As he passed by desks, he couldn't resist pulling up his sleeve to show off his new tattoo. It was an intricate design, beautifully done, and it immediately drew attention.

Emily Prentiss, seated at her desk, caught sight of the tattoo and her eyes widened in admiration. "Wow, Morgan! That’s incredible. When did you get that done?"

Derek grinned, obviously pleased with her reaction. "Got it on Saturday. There’s this new shop called Ink Impressions. The artist is amazing. She really knows her stuff."

Emily stood and walked over, examining the tattoo more closely. "The detail is fantastic. Who's the artist?"

Derek leaned back in his chair, a playful smile on his face. "Her name’s Y/N. She’s not just talented—she’s also incredibly sexy."

Emily raised an eyebrow, a smirk forming on her lips. "Sexy and talented, huh? Sounds like you had quite the experience."

Derek chuckled. "You could say that. She’s got this way about her—confident, passionate about her work. You should definitely check her out if you're thinking about getting some ink."

Emily's interest was piqued. "I’ve been considering a tattoo for a while now. Maybe it’s time to finally go for it."

Derek nodded enthusiastically. "You won't regret it, Prentiss. Y/N’s the real deal. Plus, the shop's vibe is great—professional but with a cool, laid-back atmosphere."

Emily looked thoughtful, already envisioning what design she might want. "Alright, I’m sold. I’ll swing by Ink Impressions this week and see if she has any openings."

As they chatted, Penelope Garcia sauntered over, having overheard part of their conversation. "What’s this about a sexy tattoo artist?" she asked, waggling her eyebrows.

Derek laughed. "Garcia, I think you’d love her. She’s got this artistic flair that’s right up your alley."

Garcia clapped her hands together. "Well, now I have to see this for myself. Maybe I’ll get something small to start with."

Emily grinned. "Looks like Y/N might have a few new clients this week."

As they shared a laugh, the phone rang, signaling the start of another case. The team quickly shifted gears, but there was a newfound buzz of excitement. Derek's tattoo had not only impressed his colleagues but also sparked a sense of camaraderie and curiosity.

Throughout the day, Derek couldn't help but think about Y/N and the connection they’d shared. He was eager to see her again, not just for her talent but for the undeniable chemistry between them. Little did he know, Emily and Garcia’s upcoming visits to Ink Impressions would bring them all a step closer to intertwining personal and professional lives in ways they hadn't anticipated.

—

Emily Prentiss walked into the shop, greeted by the familiar hum of tattoo machines. She was greeted warmly by the receptionist and soon found herself in front of Y/N, who looked up with a welcoming smile.

"Hi there! What can I do for you today?" Y/N asked, her eyes sparkling with curiosity.

Emily smiled, feeling instantly at ease. "Hi, I’m Emily. A friend of mine, Derek Morgan, got a tattoo here recently. I was so impressed that I decided to get one myself."

Recognition flashed in Y/N's eyes, and she chuckled inwardly, remembering the charismatic agent. "Ah, Derek! He’s a great guy. What are you thinking of getting?"

As Emily described her idea, Y/N listened intently, her mind already envisioning the design. Despite knowing Derek and his world, she kept her focus on her craft, maintaining the professional boundary she valued. But as she worked on Emily's tattoo, she couldn't help but feel a growing connection to these agents, wondering how long she could keep her secret before the lines between business and pleasure inevitably blurred.

—

The BAU team had decided to unwind after a long week, gathering at their favorite local bar. The place was lively, filled with the hum of conversation, clinking glasses, and the distant sound of live music. Spencer Reid had just returned from visiting his mother in Las Vegas, and he was grateful for the chance to catch up with his colleagues in a more relaxed setting.

As the team settled into their booth, drinks in hand, Emily Prentiss and Derek Morgan were excitedly discussing their recent tattoos. Emily pulled up her sleeve to show off the intricate design on her forearm, while Derek proudly displayed the tattoo on his bicep.

"You guys have to see this," Emily said, her eyes shining. "Y/N is incredible. Her artistry is on another level."

Derek nodded enthusiastically. "And she's not just talented—she’s smoking hot. I’m telling you, she’s got this whole vibe that’s hard to resist."

Emily laughed. "We were just saying, it’s almost a competition to see who’s going to ask her out first."

They both looked at each other, playfully competitive. "You think you can beat me, Prentiss?" Derek teased.

"Oh, I know I can," Emily shot back, a mischievous grin on her face.

Spencer, sitting quietly beside them, listened to their banter with a growing sense of unease. His fingers tightened around his glass as he processed their words. The name Y/N echoed in his mind. He knew exactly who they were talking about. His girlfriend, Y/N, was the talented artist they were raving about.

Trying to maintain his composure, Spencer asked, "What shop did you guys go to?"

Emily turned to him, still smiling. "It’s called Ink Impressions. It’s a new place, but it's already getting a lot of buzz."

Spencer bit his lip, a mix of emotions swirling within him. He felt a pang of jealousy but also pride knowing how highly they thought of Y/N. He took a deep breath, reminding himself to stay calm.

Just then, the bar door swung open, and Spencer’s heart skipped a beat. Y/N walked in, looking around until her eyes landed on him. She smiled warmly and started making her way over to their table.

Emily and Derek continued their playful debate, oblivious to Spencer’s internal turmoil. "I don’t know, Derek. I think I’ve got the upper hand. I mean, she seemed pretty interested when I was there," Emily said, winking.

Derek laughed. "We’ll see about that, Prentiss. I’m not backing down from this challenge."

Spencer couldn't hold it in any longer. He set his drink down and cleared his throat, catching their attention. "You might want to rethink that competition."

Emily and Derek looked at him, confused. "What do you mean?" Derek asked.

Before Spencer could answer, Y/N reached the table, her presence commanding their attention. She placed a gentle hand on Spencer’s shoulder, leaning down to kiss his cheek. "Hey, baby."

Spencer's face lit up with a smile, and he looked up at her with obvious affection. "Hey, beautiful. I’m glad you made it."

Emily and Derek’s jaws dropped simultaneously. "Wait, you two know each other?" Emily asked, incredulous.

Spencer nodded, a hint of smugness in his voice. "Yeah, you could say that."

Y/N grinned, sliding into the booth next to Spencer. "I guess the secret’s out," she said, laughing softly. “Spence here is my boyfriend.” Y/N gazed at him lovingly.

Derek shook his head in disbelief, but there was a playful glint in his eye. "Well, Reid, you’ve been holding out on us. I guess that means you win by default."

Emily chuckled, raising her glass. "To Spencer and Y/N. I guess we don’t need that competition after all."

The team raised their glasses, toasting to the unexpected revelation. As they settled back into their conversation, Spencer felt a sense of relief and happiness. He had nothing to hide anymore, and the night seemed even brighter with Y/N by his side.

[mischievousmoony]

𝚑𝚊𝚢𝚠𝚒𝚛𝚎 𝚑𝚘𝚕𝚒𝚍𝚊𝚢

⟢ james potter x fem!reader

⟢ summary: you have trouble sleeping when you unexpectedly have to share a bed with james on your holiday . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁3.5k

⟢ warnings/tags: one bed trope, bit of wolfstar, fluffy, nervous!reader

⟢ requested

⟢ masterlist

note: love me some out of touch with money sirius and james

"Oh! I see it now! Your booking is for this date!"

"Perfect." James lets out a sigh of relief.

"Next year." The desk agent adds after a rather cruel pause.

All eyes fall on James, the one you all left in charge of planning your getaway. A decision that feels idiotic now.

James looks like he is trying very hard to not meet at your piercing gazes, as if any of you might have summoned the power to turn him to stone.

"Is it?" James' voice is strained as he speaks, "Okay, my fault, my fault. Honest mistake. I'm sure this happens all the time, yeah?"

"Not really." The desk agent says, a hint of judgement in her tone.

James, with his lips pressed into a flat line and eyes squinted, is failing very hard at not looking peeved at her.

"We should've let Rem do the planning," Sirius says through a yawn, letting his head fall on Remus' shoulder. It was already very late when you arrived at the hotel, and all four of you just wanted to crash in a warm bed. Remus slung his arm around Sirius' shoulders, rubbing his arm as a comfort.

Meanwhile, you shift your footing as you move your heavy bag from one shoulder to the other, your impatience and fatigue clearly growing.

James paid Sirius’ comment no mind, his attention all on you as eyes flick your way when he notices your discomfort in his peripheral vision. Wordlessly, he takes your bag off your arm and slings it over his own.

"We can fix this, can't we?" James asks, "Can we move that booking to today?"

"We don't do that for bookings that didn't pay the insurance fee, and it says here that you didn't pay the insurance fee. That also means the trip is non-refundable as well."

"Okay!” James feels an eye twitch coming on, “Fine, what rooms aren't booked? We'll just book new rooms, no big deal," James' says, his own growing impatience evident in his tone. He pulls a credit card from his wallet and taps it restlessly on the stone counter.

You and Remus stand there wide eyed, about to protest, while Sirius begins to look for his own wallet. James waves Sirius off and reassures you and Remus with an "I've got it."

The desk agent ignores the slight commotion as she reads from her screen, "Well, you're in luck. We have two queen rooms left."

"Wait," you interject, "Queen rooms? Because one of them needs to be a double."

"Those are the last rooms available." She confirms.

"Well, is there a pull-out sofa in either of them? A regular sofa? Anything?" You ask, desperation growing as the agent shakes her head at all of your suggestions, "A cot we can roll into the room even?"

"We ran out," she says, tone laced with faux sympathy.

"Well, one bed is fine with us, obviously," Sirius smirks, wiggling his eyebrows. Yet again, he is ignored. Well, not by Remus, who squeezes his shoulder.

James faces you and puts a gentle hand on your arm, "Hey, it'll be fine. We'll figure it out when we get up there, yeah?"

You sigh, but digress with a simple nod.

As soon as James says "We'll take them" the agent is listing off the price for the rooms for the duration of your stay.

"Wait, wait, wait!" James tries to stop her.

You jaw goes slack, "What?"

"Sorry?" tumbles from Remus' lips at the same time.

Sirius is the only one who looks unbothered, his eyes flicking between you and Remus as he asks, "Is that supposed to be a lot?"

"That's wildly more expensive than what we paid originally,” you protest. "The old price is only worth one night of this new price!"

"Oh, I remember why we didn't let Moony do the booking," Sirius comments, and the reason for the price difference suddenly dawns on you.

James looks at you with a sheepish grin as the wheels turn in your head. James and Sirius clearly took the brunt of the expenses, letting you and Remus only pay your share for a single night, passing it off as the full price.

"James!" You ridicule.

"We wanted you guys to be able to stay somewhere nice for once!" He defends stridently.

"First of all, offensive. And second of all, there are nice hotels that don't cost over a thousand dollars a night!"

"It's endearing that you think that's a lot for two rooms."

"Once again, offensive!"

"So, will you be taking the rooms?" The agent interjects.

James doesn't break eye contact with you, his lips molding into a cheeky grin as he slides his credit card across the desk, "Yes, we will."

When you reach the room, the site of the single bed makes you huff indignantly, but you had to admit that the room was pretty nice. And just by looking at the bed you could tell it's comfortable.

"They could have totally fit a couch in here," you take notice of how spacious the room is. "Five hundred dollar rooms should come with couches. You're getting scammed, James."

James chuckles as he places both of your bags on the floor.

"We have a desk," he says as if it's helpful, "a TV, wardrobe..."

"None of which are particularly useful right now," you comment.

James shrugs, approaching the inviting bed. He starts picking up pillows and dropping them on the floor.

"What are you doing?" you ask, moving to stand next to him.

"Makin' a place to sleep," he answers.

"No! No way, you're not sleeping on the floor!" you protest.

"You made it pretty clear you wanted separate places to sleep," James says.

"Well yes, but you should have the bed. I feel bad enough as it is that you've paid for this whole thing twice, I couldn't live with myself if I let you sleep on the floor."

"And I'm too much of a gentleman to let a lady sleep on the floor," he says as he lowers himself to the ground, laying his head on the pillows, "I've always been partial to a firm bed anyway."

"James! No way!"

"Listen, the only way I'm sleeping in that bed is if we both are, otherwise-"

"Fine,” you say sharply.

"Wait, what?"

You put your hands on your hips, "I said fine! But keep those pillows on your side, you've tainted them with the floor."

James watches as you saunter off to the bathroom, retrieving your toothbrush and pajamas from your bag on your way. The whole time, he remained on the floor, too stunned to move.

Of course, when James heard there would only be one bed, he was secretly a little excited, which may or may not have to do with the little (not so little) crush he has on you. But when you expressed concern over the situation, he knew immediately that he'd be sleeping on the floor, and sharing a bed with you would have to remain a lovely little dream. When he suggested otherwise just now, it was just banter and a way to get you to agree to him sleeping on the floor. He didn't actually mean it. But then you said fine.

James' fingertips fiddle with the fibers of the carpet as he contemplates this, still lying on the floor. He replays the moment in his head, checking his memory for your tone. Did you sound annoyed? Uncomfortable? James really does not want to make you uncomfortable. Even the possibility that he has makes him want to punch himself.

You were suddenly standing over James again in a fresh set of pajamas, "Why are you still on the floor?"

"You meant it?" The words tumble from James' mouth as if they were one.

“Yes, James, I’m not going to let you sleep on the floor.”

“But are you okay with it?” James clarified.

“What do you mean?”

“This isn’t gonna be uncomfortable for you? You were really concerned about the prospect of sharing a bed. If this is gonna make you uncomfortable, well, I’d rather beg Sirius and Remus to let me sleep on the foot of their bed like a dog.”

You chuckle at the image of James curled up by Remus and Sirius’ feet.

“Yes, James. I’m okay with it. What would make me feel uncomfortable is you sleeping on the floor whilst I’m alone in a bed big enough for two. Honest.”

“Okay, if you’re sure.”

“I’m sure. Now would you please get up from the floor?”

James sticks his hands up like a child, wiggling his fingers at you. You roll your eyes, but the way your lips curl up at the corners reveal you’re not truly annoyed with him.

You grab hold of James’ hands and heave him up, stumbling back a bit once you’ve got him upright. James helps steady you before he goes off to get ready for bed.

Meanwhile, you begin to tuck under the covers.

Lying in a bed has never felt so unnatural. You try fluffing the pillows, lying on either side and your stomach before returning to your back, taking the covers off of one leg then putting them back on—nothing feels right.

Deep down, you knew it wasn’t the bed that was the problem but rather your nerves. The reason you were originally so concerned about having to sleep in the same bed as James is your little (not so little) crush on the boy. Just thinking about it made your heart race and you were sure you wouldn’t survive the night. You couldn’t even believe it was really happening until James pads back into the room from the bathroom and begins to join you.

You watch as he picks the pillows up from the floor, brushes them off, and places them back on the bed. Your body stiffens when he climbs in after them.

James is getting under the covers when he freezes, “You sure you’re okay with this?”

“Yes, James. If I start to not be okay with it I promise I’ll kick you out.” You were lying but apparently it was convincing enough for James to resume settling into the bed.

Before completely settling in, James reaches towards the switch for the lamp. He pauses as he asks, “Ready for lights out?”

“Mhm,” you hum, too afraid to speak in case your voice might be high pitched and riddled with nerves.

With your confirmation, James hits the switch and you’re engulfed in darkness.

Your eyes screw shut as you feel the bed creak and shift while James gets comfortable. When he stops, you feel the hairs stick up on the back of your neck.

You open your eyes, letting them adjust to the darkness before you strain them by attempting to look at James without moving your neck. You can just barely see the position he’s chosen.

“Are you-? Are you facing me?”

“Yeah.”

“Could you maybe not?”

“Oh, yeah. Yeah sorry.”

You feel the bed creak again one final time as James settles down on his back.

Upon some reflection, James realizes it is probably weird to face the person you’re platonically sharing a bed with. He just couldn’t help it. In his fantasies, you’d both face each other and have hushed conversations that would keep you up late. You’d be laughing and giggling with each other through the night, scooting closer as you did, until you found yourselves drifting off in each other’s arms.

Instead, you both lay stiffly on your backs, as close to your respective edges of the bed as you could get. It’s not James’ ideal situation, but he’s giddy nonetheless, craning his neck to steal glances at you often until he falls asleep.

You assume James is a restless sleeper, not thinking anything else of the way his head keeps moving back and forth, making shuffling noises against his pillow.

When there hasn’t been any shuffling noises for a few minutes, you let out a breath you’d been holding back. You didn’t want to make any noise at all while James was still awake, as if that would make it seem like you weren’t there at all.

Now that James is asleep and can no longer perceive you, you let your stiff muscles relax into the mattress and take a deep breath. You try to close your eyes and drift off, but they frustratingly shoot open a few moments later. Sleep would not be possible so long as your heart keeps beating the way that it does.

You look at James through the corner of your eyes, noticing the way his chest rises and falls steadily. You try to match his breaths, convinced that if you breathe like a sleeping person you’ll be able to fall asleep to.

Unfortunately, it was useless. Nothing could soothe the knots in your stomach, nor dull the sensation of James’ presence burning like a steady flame at your side. You’ll have to just accept it—so long as the boy of your dreams is next to you, you won’t be getting much sleep.

By the third day of your trip, your exhaustion was painfully obvious.

On the first, you were yawning all day, but you were able to brush it off as no big deal.

The second day you fell asleep on the beach the moment your back hit the sandy towel. Sirius and Remus had to endure all of James' fussing over the fact that you could get sunburnt. When James was spraying aerosol sunscreen over you, both concerned that you hadn't reapplied yet and wanting to let you sleep, the wind blew the spray right into Sirius' face. He snatched the t-shirt you were using to cover your face from the sun at once, startling you awake with a shout that it was time to reapply.

Today, day three, is a pool day, and you were nearly drifting off again. This time, it was happening while you’re in the water, your head resting atop your folded arms that drape over the pool's edge.

James is watching you carefully from his spot on a pool chair, making sure you didn’t actually fall asleep in the water. His concern for your safety and need to rest clashing yet again.

Sirius and Remus join James in adjacent pool chairs with drinks from the hotel’s Tiki Bar, but James pays them no mind as they sit down.

“Alright, James?” Remus asks.

“Yeah,” James responds, not taking his eyes off you.

“You seem tense.” Remus points out, “You do know we’re on vacation, right?”

“I’m worried that if I look away she’ll fall asleep and drown.” James voices his concerns.

“Eh, but if you let her you'll get to give her mouth to mouth,” Sirius jokes, and he’s the only one who laughs at it. Though, Remus does give into an amused head shake.

“Why’s she been so tired anyway?” Remus asks.

“Dunno,” James replies, “I don’t think she sleeps much. Every morning I wake up she’s already up and out of the bed, ready for the day.”

“How is the single bed life treating you?” Sirius teases, wiggling his eyebrows.

James purses his lips, “It’s… not exactly how I pictured it.”

“Ooh and how’d you picture it?” Sirius asks suggestively, earning a slap on the arm from Remus.

“I may have been holding out hope for the morning we’d wake up wrapped up in each other’s arms. Or the night where we’d stay up talking and we’d scooch closer and closer until we couldn’t deny the tension between us anymore and we’d kiss and fireworks would go off outside our window.”

“Oh. Wow.” Remus’ comments when James concludes his wistful rambles, finding them to be... interesting.

“Quite the hopeless romantic, are you?” Sirius teases.

James sighs, frowning, “Wanna know what happens instead? We lay stiff as boards, as far apart as possible, staring at the ceiling in silence until I fall asleep. No late night chats and no surprise morning cuddles.”

What James doesn't know that you have woken up curled up against him, his arms comfortably at around your waist, holding you flush against his side. It happened after the first night, and you quickly but carefully peeled yourself out of the bed the minute you came to. The possibility of that happening again and James being the one to wake up first terrified you, making it that much harder for you to get sleep at night. When you did sleep, it was extremely lightly, and you often woke up constantly to make sure you hadn’t accidentally drifted over to his side of the bed.

Remus squints at James, finding his longing quite painful to watch. James should just talk to you, Remus thinks.

"She looks like she's really dozing off, now," Remus says to help him along.

James' spine straightens with alarm, "You think!?" he asks, standing at once to jog to your rescue.

When you hear James' feet pad against the ground, you look up, eliciting a sigh of relief from him.

"Hey," he said softly as he slows his approach, "you're scaring me, over here."

"Scaring you?"

James sits on the edge of the pool next to you, letting his legs dip into the water, "This just isn't the safest place for you to fall asleep."

"I'm not falling asleep," you protest, but a yawn betrays you.

James shakes his head, light chuckles falling from his lips. When he settles with a sigh, he says, "You're exhausted, love. Can I ask what's going on?"

"Nothing's going on," you say, your eyebrows twitching together in confusion.

"Then why aren't you sleeping at night?" James' lips tug down in the corners.

"I am sleeping," you insist softly.

"Not enough, clearly. What is it? I'm not making you uncomfortable, am I? Because you can still kick me to the curb."

"No, I'm not uncomfortable, James," you look away from him bashfully. You really wish James wouldn't pry about this, you had no excuse, besides your feelings for him, which is one you definitely couldn't use. You chew your lip as you attempt to think of another.

James raises an eyebrow at your behavior, "You're certainly acting uncomfortable. Did I do something wrong?" His tone is dejected, like he's sad that you don't feel at ease around him.

You feel bad instantly, not wanting to be the cause of his low spirits. Your head snaps to look at him, "No! It's not that!"

"Then what?" James shakes his head. He studies you, trying to determine what could possibly be wrong. His eyes bore into yours and you feel yourself instinctively shrinking away from him. Your fingers start to fiddle with the string bracelet that you're wearing, arms still resting on the edge of the pool, though you have stood up straighter now.

His features smooth over in realization as he notices your behavior isn't exactly coming from a place of discomfort, although, he was close.

"Oh. You're nervous around me, aren't you?"

"What!? Of course not," you say quickly, yet your head dips down and you won't meet his gaze once again.

James decides to test the theory. He pushes himself up with the heels of his palms and lowers himself into the pool next to you. He stands in the water, close enough for his chest to lightly brush against your arm.

His voice is low when he speaks, "Look at me."

You barely move your head, just enough to see him comfortable if you look through the corner of your eyes. James' hand settles under your chin to guide your head the rest of the way. His gaze feels scrutinizing, and James catches the way you chew on the inside of your cheek.

"You're absolutely nervous," he decides, and there's a glimmer of hope in his eyes, "Why?"

"It's like you're trying to make me uncomfortable. Do you want to sleep on the floor or something?"

"No, I just want to sleep with you," he blurts without thinking.

You veer back from him and his hands immediately fly up in surrender.

James, suddenly the more flustered one of the two of you, speaks frantically, "Not like–! I didn't mean it like that!"

"And how exactly did you mean it?" you ask, taken completely aback.

"I want to hold you. I want to fall asleep with you in my arms," he rambles, "I- I want to be with you, god, I like you."

You're shocked into silence. James' eyes desperately dart across your features, looking for any kind of reaction or sign.

Once he starts looking a little hopeless the words are ripped from your throat, "I like you too. I want all of that too."

James puffs out a breath in disbelief. His lips begin to tug up into a mischievous grin, his hand finding solace on the bare skin of your lower back below the water.

"And if I said I want to kiss you?" he asks quietly.

You swallow your nerves, "I'd say I want that too."

James' free hand finds the back of your head in an instant, using the leverage to pull you into him as he laces his fingers through your hair.

Later that night, James is the one who doesn't get much sleep, too giddy over the fact that he finally gets to hold you.

[yandere-daydreams]

tw - forced marriage, unhealthy relationships, possessive behavior, and border-line shitpost energy.

It is common knowledge that Lord Scaramouche, Sixth Harbinger of the Snezhnayan Fatui, the nationally acclaimed and universally feared Balladeer, does not like to share his toys.

The timeline of your relationship should be proof enough of that -courted after only a handful of chance encounters during his time in your humble village, married as quickly as he could find an alter and an officiant willing to misinterpret your frantic sobbing as an 'I do', hastily locked away in an estate populated solely by masked guards and servants under strict instruction not to speak a word to you - but, if there was a soul in Teyvat who dared to ask for more evidence, you would happily point them towards the smoldering remains the book that you'd been too caught up in to keep track of one of his frequent one-sided rants, the patch of sand and stone that had once been the flower garden you lavished with all of the love and attention you'd withheld from him. He's as savage as he is predictable. His precious things, from his vast collection of porcelain dolls to the ancient sword that he keeps hidden in a velvet-lined box in his study, are safely stowed away, while yours are swiftly and mercilessly destroyed.

If there's something you'd like to keep, it has to be bargained for. You'll spend weeks singing his praises and cuddling up to his side, cooking all his favorite meals by hand (much to the distress of his small legion of private chefs) and letting him speak at length about the bloody, visceral vengeance he plans to rain down upon his countless enemies. It's only when you have him content and assured of your love for him that you pounce.

His lips purse, eyes narrowing. "No."

"Please, my lord." You lean forward, clasping your hands over your lap. "Won't you at least try to consider it?"

"Absolutely not." His tone is surprisingly haughty, especially considering his current position; head resting on your thighs, gaze pointed at some indistinguishable point on the far wall as you rake your fingers through his hair. "You expect me to strain my staff and myself just so you can... what? Visit your sister for a few boring days?"

"Her son is turning five, and she just had her first daughter. I thought it might be nice to see how she's doing and lend her a hand."

He scoffs. "You expect me to be so patient with you and yet, here you are, practically begging me to let you run off to the countryside just to see another man."

"Surely, you aren't denying my request because you're jealous of an infant."

"No. Whatever. Be quiet." If you didn't know better, you would think he's pouting. "My answer hasn't changed. I can't afford to spare that much thought on such a petty errand, not with the Tsaritsa as demanding as she is."

You hum, letting your head lull to the side. "You know," A weighted pause, your nails scraping against his scalp. "Her home isn't as... accommodating as yours. Her only spare room was converted into a nursery some years back, so we'd have to stay at an inn."

His lips quirk downward, unimpressed. "And?"

"And, there's only one in my village. It's quite a meager thing, too. Even this time of year, there's only going to be a few rooms available." Your touch lingers near the nape of his neck. "I know I usually insist on separate bedrooms, but given the circumstances, there's a good chance neither of us will be able to be so selfish."

There was a beat of silence, then another. You think, for a moment, that Scaramouche might be holding his breath, but you quickly remember that he doesn't breathe at all.

Finally, he responds. "A few days would make for a pathetic visit. Tell her that we'll be staying for a month."

As savage as he is predictable. That's all you could expect from your husband, wasn't it?

You lean down, pressing a fleeting kiss into his temple. "As you wish, my lord."

[mrsdarkandyandere7]

❤ Yandere Lawyer ❤

▶ This is a yandere/dark work and it may contain triggering content so please READ THE WARNINGS before. Do not read if minor.

More at Masterlist

Female reader

WARNINGS: Obsession; Misogyny; slight Power Abuse.

This idea credit goes to @d-lioncourt cause she's the one that motivated me for this idea. Hope you like this :)

--

◾ Yandere! Lawyer who works in the top law firm of the country. He’s cold, determinate and calculative. Always thinking 10 steps ahead of everyone, carefully considering all possibilities and creating extensive back-up plans. 

His job relies on his capacities and he always aims for the top. If he’s not recognized as the best lawyer available, then he doesn’t even know what he’s been doing so far. 

◾ Yandere! Lawyer who doesn't care about how things are done as long as he wins the case in the end. Who said lawyers are saints?

He may be an advocate of the law but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t bend it to his will, finding sneaky gaps to reach his goal: win. 

Isn’t that what makes him such a requested lawyer? Isn’t that what causes every big corporate company to try to sign him up, to offer several millions for him to represent them in court? Because everyone knows that he wins.

No matter what happens during the trials or how badly the opposite side tries, he wins. It’s an irrefutable truth and anyone that tries to contradict it is a complete and utter fool. 

◾ Yandere! Lawyer who is upset enough when he’s informed that he’s gonna have to take a Pro Bono case for a random civilian. It’s frustrating to spend his precious time and expensive resources on a worthless someone.

It’s stupid and he'd immediately refuse it if it wasn’t for the strict order he receives from the higher ups.  

◾ Yandere! Lawyer who rattles you up, insisting on long sessions so he can know your side of the story.

His questions feel like accusations and you hate spending long hours answering him. Makes you feel like you’ve actually committed a crime of sorts when the reality is none of that. 

He knows you’re bothered by the way he pays attention to each of your words, taking mental notes of every minuscule detail so he can bring it up later.

He’s highly aware of how unnerving he can get and it’s fun to see you get so quiet and shy over it. 

He loves it when people get intimidated by him and it’s particularly pleasant when a pretty thing like yourself gets too timid to spare him a few words. 

◾ Yandere! Lawyer who drags the case much longer than it needs to. He could definitely end it in a blink of eyes, it would be so easy for him. A piece of cake. 

But he doesn’t. 

It’s exciting to see you on court, a helpless expression covering your whole face and your eyes at the verge of tears as your future lays on his hands.  

So pathetically weak. You can’t even defend yourself, you need him to do that for you. To defend your honor, to protect you. 

◾ Yandere! Lawyer who makes sure you know that despite it being a Pro Bono case, you owe him. He wants you to know that he’s winning this case for you, wasting his valuable time just to save your pathetic ass from those embezzlement charges. 

That he’s the one saving you from going to prison - despite the very evident fact that you have such a weak personality that it’s practically impossible that you’d steal money from your boss. 

◾ Yandere! Lawyer who takes every chance to hurt your feelings with snide remarks.

You look prettier when you cry, something so enticing about those shiny diamond-like tears that glow in your eyes and the miserable way you furiously blink to keep them at bay - to which you fail. 

You’re crying because of him. That’s enough to make him buzz with a twisted sense of possession and control. He holds that much power over you. 

◾ Yandere! Lawyer whose mind wanders over the tempting fantasies of returning home to you. You’d do a submissive girlfriend, he’s so sure of that. If he gave you a nasty slap and a few harsh words, you’d bend to his will so fast - like a obedient girlfriend should. 

It would be so easy to control your life.

Order you to move in with him. Command you to become his stay-at-home girlfriend. Push you to cut off friends and family until only he remains. 

Those misogynistic ideas keep him thinking about you longer than he should. 

◾ Yandere! Lawyer who isn’t afraid to act upon his wishes and so he does. After a triumphing win on court, he leaves.

Storms off without even looking at you and you don’t even have the chance to thank him, but you forget about that quickly. 

You have more pressing issues to focus on, such as rebuilding your life all again. Celebrate your win. Find a new job. Move on with your life the best as you can. 

Your peace lasts exactly one week. And then everything comes down in rubbles.

Because then he comes to retrieve his payment. 

[withhugsandkisses]

daisuke, you shouldn't have ! ..really

wrote this with fem reader in mind, but i think it could be seen as gen neutral! daisuke tries to impress you by doing stupid cliche stuff. i thought about this, and i wasn't gunna write it but everyone (one person) said they'd read it so here we go! fluffy , fluffy, stupid fluff. proofread once, if any mistakes pls tell me

the amusement park was fun. you swore you'd never go on a date there because you were embarrassed of your scream on rollercoasters. but it didn't matter anymore since daisuke's was equally as ,if not more, bad.

walking hand in hand with him, you nodded as he spoke about god knows what, cotton candy in his hand. that's when your eyes drifted and you saw such a cute plush! hanging right there, practically begging you to take it home with you! "oh my god." you spoke out instinctively.

"what? what? babe, what??" your boyfriend spoke fast, noticing how fast your face was to drop. he noticed your eyes looking behind him and quickly turned around to see what caught your gaze. ahhh that plushie. making eye contact with it, he felt the biggest smirk fall upon his face. he used to wish upon stars for movie moments like this.

your trance was broken when cotton candy was shoved into your face. "hold this." you heard daisuke say smugly. you were taken back at first, holding the cotton candy reluctantly. but when daisuke started to stretch his arms, you felt yourself smile. "i'll win that for ya babe, no biggie at all!" he said a little too proudly, striding up to the carnival game confidently. you followed behind with a pep in your step.

daisuke pulled out his wallet, grabbing some cash and handing it to the stand worker. "three balls please." the stand worker nodded, taking his cash and giving him three baseball balls upon his request. so it was one of these games. he looked behind him, straight to you to give you a wink.

when you made eye contact with him, you realised your face had changed. you knew how these type games could be. you started to doubt him. just a tiny tiny bit!! but he couldn't know that! you fixed your face quickly and nodded, giving him an encouraging thumbs up.

daisuke rose his hand and threw a ball, right in-between the cans. but it hardly did anything, merely shifting them slightly. it was no secret that daisuke dabbled in sports, so this outcome to him was unacceptable. he grunted and squinted his eyes. "okay.." you could hear him softly talking to himself through this.

grasping the second ball, he threw it, but again, to no avail. "what??" daisuke said a little louder, the shock evident in his voice. you had to stifle a laugh, not wanting him to hear you. you watched him grab the last ball as you bit off some of his cotton candy.

third times a charm? nah. the last ball didn't do anything either. daisuke squinted his eyes harder at the cans, as if he could just move it with his mind. he looked so annoyed. you walked up from behind him and placed your chin on his shoulder. "awhhh, its ok daisy." you cooed. "you know how these games can be-" this time you were cut off..by..his..hand? he shoved his hand in your face!

completely dismissing what you said, he grabbed more cash from his wallet and handed it to the stand worker. "three more..please." he was always so respectful, even when he was pissed off. you stepped back away from him, letting him do his thing.

this time it took longer. he spent more time trying to time his throws, doing his best to use what he learned from his sports lessons. but it felt like no matter what angle he threw at, he couldn't do it! you could sense the scowl on his face.

once again, you walked up to him, this time placing a hand on his arm sweetly. "ok i'm serious. let's find a ride to go on. i can probably look for this thing on amazon or someth-" "no" he cut you off again.

it felt like a time loop. he grabbed out his cash, asking for another round. now usually you'd feel inclined to tell him not to waste his money, but two things stopped you. one, he's basically rich due to his parents. two, you knew there was no stopping him. you silently questioned if this was even for you anymore. maybe it was for his ego, too stubborn to lose to a simple carnival game. you looked at his cotton candy. you had already finished about half of it.

he was on his second to last ball. daisuke took a deep breath and closed his eyes, like he was saying a silent prayer. you rolled your eyes. but that's when it happened. he threw the ball harder than he'd has been, right in the middle of the cans. whatever magic that's been holding them together was undone by his throw, the cans immediately falling out of place and scrambling onto the floor. your eyes were wide and you made eye contact with the stand worker who's eyes were also wide.

looking back to your boyfriend, you could see that daisuke was breathing heavily. it was like he took all his anger and put it into that throw. seeing that he won, his demeanour changed so quick. he looked at you proudly with a big toothy smile, you could practically see his tail wagging. the stand worker spoke up, taking both of your attention. "what um. what plush would you like..?" they asked you.

you pointed to the big plush. the reason for all this. the stand worker nodded and got the plush off the hook, handing it to you. you gave daisuke back his half eaten cotton candy, and took the plush happily. feeling the soft, fluffy fabric made it all worth it. you looked into it's eyes, your own sparkling like a child's.

leaving the stand, your boyfriend took one of your hands and guided you since you couldn't stop looking at your new child. "see, told you i'd win!"

you scoffed and rolled your eyes, looking over to him. "yeah whatever godzilla, you practically destroyed those cans." you teased, seeing the boys face redden just a tiny bit.

"yeah. ok. like..whatever, you still got your prize." he retorted.

you leaned in closer and let out a hum in agreement. leaning up a little, you kissed his cheek. "thank you, my love!"

you heard his stupid giggle as you now took the lead to the newest rollercoaster.

an: yes yes waiter! more fluff material please! im in love with it! also im thinking of writing for mha characters too...but im SCARED!! im so worried id mischaracterise them so hard oof...

[kitscutie]

hey! I'm not sure what all to put in an request. I'd love a kit connor x reader (fem preferred) about dating or fluffy things! Legal age of course

you belong with me (kit connor x fem!reader)

𝗉𝖺𝗂𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗀: 𝗄𝗂𝗍 𝖼𝗈𝗇𝗇𝗈𝗋 𝗑 𝖿𝖾𝗆!𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋

𝗐𝖺𝗋𝗇𝗂𝗇𝗀ꜱ: 𝗇𝗈𝗇𝖾!

ꜱ𝗎𝗆𝗆𝖺𝗋𝗒: 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗄𝗂𝗍'ꜱ 𝗃𝗈𝗎𝗋𝗇𝖾𝗒 𝖿𝗋𝗈𝗆 𝖿𝗋𝗂𝖾𝗇𝖽ꜱ 𝗍𝗈 𝗅𝗈𝗏𝖾𝗋ꜱ 𝗐𝗁𝗂𝗅𝖾 𝖿𝗂𝗅𝗆𝗂𝗇𝗀 '𝗁𝖾𝖺𝗋𝗍ꜱ𝗍𝗈𝗉𝗉𝖾𝗋'.

𝖺/𝗇: 𝗁𝗂! 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗇𝗄 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗋𝖾𝗊𝗎𝖾ꜱ𝗍 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗍𝗈 𝖺𝗇ꜱ𝗐𝖾𝗋, 𝗋𝖾𝗊𝗎𝖾ꜱ𝗍ꜱ 𝖼𝖺𝗇 ᖯ𝖾 𝖺𝗇𝗒𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖿𝗋𝗈𝗆 ꜱ𝗈𝗆𝖾𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖺ꜱ ꜱ𝗂𝗆𝗉𝗅𝖾 𝖺ꜱ 𝗍𝗁𝗂ꜱ ^ 𝗈𝗋 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗈𝗎𝗍𝗅𝗂𝗇𝖾 𝗈𝖿 𝖺 ꜱ𝗍𝗈𝗋𝗒 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗐𝖺𝗇𝗍 𝗐𝗋𝗂𝗍𝗍𝖾𝗇! 𝗋𝖾𝗊𝗎𝖾ꜱ𝗍ꜱ 𝗈𝗉𝖾𝗇!

It all started during lockdown. You received a call that you had gotten the role of Florence Smith (a very British surname) in the new show 'Heartstopper'. You were already familiar with the comics - perhaps even a fan.

Florence was Imogen's shy but sweet friend that tended to sit in silence while the other characters spoke, though she did have some key roles too. Most importantly being that she was Nick's girlfriend at the start of the show until he realises he has been hiding his true self and meets the wonderful Charlie Spring.

Their relationship was supposed to be pre-existing, supposedly having dated for a year which meant you and Kit had to seem pretty comfortable and 'in love'. Even when you had just met.

The rehearsals began and all of the cast met, including you and Kit. The first time you saw him it almost felt surreal, he quite literally embodied your ideal man. Golden hair that fell effortlessly into all the right places, freckles littering his skin in a way that reminded you of constellations and most importantly and amazing personality.

You were shy at first, much like everyone, you had only done small jobs and this was completely different, an actual Netflix show with seasoned actors. It was a lot of pressure.

He never made you feel like the under dog. Like the one who didn't know what you were doing, in fact, he went out of his way to help you out. Pointing out who did what, talking to a crew member when you weren't quite sure what to say and it all warmed your heart.

It didn't take long for you two to become best friends. You were both in your final year of A-levels and it was complete and utter hell, though he made it a little more bearable. Both of you were currently working at D's in drama which wasn't quite ideal and so, you became revision buddies.

Days at each other's houses turned into nights together, and it all just felt so incredibly right. You never had a friend as good as him, someone who treat you so humanely, even if that was the bare minimum.

It all scared you to be honest, feelings evident to everyone except him. Even fans.

They would point out the small things, like how you would sit on Kit's lap whenever there were no chairs available in the back of one of Tobie's vlogs, even though Joe and Bash did the same. Or the way the two of you were often seen playfighting in the back of behind the scenes clips.

It wasn't like you hadn't kissed before, practically every scene your characters shared up to the break up contained a kiss and so it became easy to see it all as, well, real.

The hugs, the handholding and the pecks on the cheek. It all felt so real and then it was gone. And filming was over.

It didn't really effect how often you saw Kit, the cast became best friends outside of filming and so you still saw him every day, though it felt different.

The bubble you had been living in no longer existed, the two of you were real people not characters and even realer was the crush building inside of you for your 'best friend' and no matter what Joe told you, you couldn't see the boy liking you back.

Shortly after filming ended the first season got released and it was crazy. Not only did you have an influx of followers but an influx of people 'shipping' you and Kit.

It was stressful, feeling as though your secret was being revealed even if Kit saw it all as fans being fans, it was as if they could see right through you.

The two of you would laugh about it, the way they made compilations of him 'being in love' with you for ten minute straight. Or how they would tweet that you held onto his hand for a little too long at a red carpet. Deep down you both knew, it meant more.

Slowly he began to flirt, little things to gage your reaction, and when it made you blush instead of laugh and slap him in the face he realised maybe the theories weren't all that crazy.

Flirting became out right date proposals and it all felt so surreally perfect. He could have anyone and yet he wanted you.

By the time filming for season two rolled around the pair of you were official and known to the public, not exactly on your own terms but there was only so long you could walk on the street together without giving into the urge of holding his warmer hand.

Now instead of playfights and handshakes the cameras would catch the two of you napping together on set or cuddling on the sofa in a cast mates living room.

"I love you." He told you one cold night in December as you watched 'The Grinch'. It was your favourite Christmas movie. He knew that.

"I love you too." You replied, leaning up to place a kiss on his jaw line from your position lying with your head in his lap.

You knew at that moment, you belonged together.

[ickie]

♡ ... THE SECRET OF US \ CHAPTER ONE ...

pairing ... lando norris x leclerc!reader summary ... fate & it's tendency to stick you & lando together warnings ... alcohol consumption, kissing notes ... it's a little early but i don't think anyone will complain ! more to be explained in the next chapter hehe... feedback is always appreciated & fill out this form to be added to my taglist ! much love <3 ... masterlist ... last chapter ... next chapter ...

your breath hung in the crisp winter air as you exhaled deeply, feeling the cold settle into your bones, taking solace as snow began to fall from the grey sky. abruptly, a hand gripped your arm, pulling you to the side, while another figure brushed past, nearly knocking you off balance.

"what the hell," the words slipped out before you could stop them, your gaze narrowing at the figure who had almost collided with you, then shifting to acknowledge the person who had pulled you out of harm's way.

"sorry!" a british voice called out, but your expression hardened into a scowl.

"are you okay?" your brother's voice cut through the chaos, a mischievous grin playing on his lips. clearly, charles found the near-miss amusing.

"i'm fine," you grumbled, pulling away and shooting a hateful look at lando once more, deciding it was time to head indoors. charles followed, and once inside the foyer, you both went your separate ways.

climbing the stairs, a wave of relief washed over you. you were on a well-deserved vacation with friends and family — and a few acquaintances, though that was beside the point. your room was cozy, reminiscent of something you might have seen on pinterest. after changing into more comfortable clothes and settling onto your bed, you lost track of time scrolling through social media, only realizing it was dinner time when you nearly missed the reminder.

as you hurried to freshen up, the anticipation of a relaxing evening with loved ones filled you with warmth, dispelling the lingering tension from the chaotic moment earlier. a knock at your door interrupted your thoughts, prompting you to peek your head from the en-suite.

"sorry about earlier," a familiar voice said as they entered your room.

"it's alright, truly... i shouldn't have been so distracted," you replied, fiddling with the clasp of a bracelet.

"do you have any idea where we're eating?" you asked, irritation evident in your voice as you struggled with the bracelet. lando approached, taking your wrist gently.

"i think charles made some reservations somewhere," he said softly, clasping the bracelet and lifting your hand to place a kiss on your palm, then winking at you.

you rolled your eyes, feigning a look of disgust before crossing your arms over your chest. without another word to lando, you left the comfort of your room to join the rest of the group. in the living room, charles, pierre, george, and alex stood with their respective partners.

"are we ready?" the question prompted everyone to move, clearly eager to eat dinner and kick off the vacation.

dinner was delightful, conversation flowed, wine flowed even more, and most importantly, you were comfortably full — a bit tipsy, but content. on the drive back with charles and alexandria, you rested your head against the window, watching the snowy landscape that would be your home for the next two weeks. arriving back at the chalet, all you really wanted was to sleep. your belly was satisfied, the wine had begun to take its effect, and your bed called your name, coaxing you to rest.

however, life had other plans, as usual. pierre had mentioned starting the vacation with a bang, which led everyone to scour the chalet for any available alcohol. charles even checked if alcohol could be ordered via doordash, to no avail. somehow, you and lando were volunteered to go to the store and procure what could’ve easily been enough to stock a bar. requests ranged from wine and various liquors to seltzers and mixers, your notes app filled with hastily written explanations of everyone's preferences.

"i'm sending requests for money from all of you," you joked, scowling playfully before breaking into a smile as you grabbed what you hoped was your jacket from the hook. lando followed as you both stepped out into the chilly night air, leaving the warmth of the chalet behind.

settling into the passenger seat of the car, you quickly plugged in your phone. "dibs on the aux," you declared, as directions to the nearest liquor store appeared on the screen.

lando rolled his eyes playfully before he began to drive. "did you notice we’re the only two single people on this trip?" he asked abruptly, causing you to nearly choke on your spit as you tried to stifle a laugh.

"i think you being single here is better than bringing, what's-her-name? she was quite the character," you chuckled, recalling the last time you had seen lando, a brief encounter in the paddock. his girlfriend, or whatever she was, hadn't seemed pleased when you greeted him in passing. carlos had filled you and charles in on all the details after lando confided in him.

lando groaned. "don’t remind me of her. i don’t even know what i saw in her..." he grimaced, his hand dragging down his face.

turning in your seat, you faced lando more directly, an eyebrow raised at his confession. "want to hear something?" you asked, knowing this confession might bring more embarrassment than it was worth.

“back in… early 2021, charles and arthur were both convinced i had the biggest crush on you," you admitted, your cheeks burning as lando burst into a surprised laugh.

"is that why you were banned from the paddock?" he teased, causing you to shake your head.

"yes," you groaned, letting your eyes roll. “i had to convince him i had a crush on danny ric, of all people! i think my options truly, were either him, or alonso… but let’s be honest… who didn’t have a crush on alonso..?” you questioned, a grin on you features.

lando parked the car shortly after, the drive having been brief. "let’s continue this conversation after we've had some alcohol," he joked, stepping out and crossing the car to open your door.

the liquor store was unremarkable, but as you checked out, you couldn't help feeling slightly anxious about what the cashier thought — not that it really mattered, but it did to you.

returning to the chalet, you were greeted with cheers as you entered, everyone eager to get the vacation started, as pierre had said. one celebratory shot of tequila turned into two, then three, and suddenly you found yourself sipping on a rum and coke that was more rum than coke. amidst the chaos, someone had started a fire in the backyard, declaring, "if we don’t use the firepit tonight, are we ever really going to use it?" it might have been george or alex; you weren't entirely sure, as they were inseparable, indulging in each other’s less-than-brilliant ideas.

now, you were wrapped in a blanket outside. with no snowfall, your jacket, sweatpants, and shoes provided enough warmth as you sat by the roaring fire. your drink had been forgotten indoors, a smile gracing your face as you looked around at this group of people who, at this moment, were your entire world.

there was a comfortable silence among the group, everyone clearly feeling the effects of the alcohol they’d been consuming. people began to slowly trickle back inside, claiming they needed to get their beauty sleep. you weren’t too sure who was the first to start the slow exodus, but eventually it was just you, charles, and lando outside. the two men had begun to discuss the previous f1 season, but you were more than zoned out, idly scrolling through your social media feeds since you didn’t necessarily feel like going inside at that moment.

“i love the two of you, truly, but can we talk about anything other than your jobs? you’re on vacation,” you deadpanned, raising an eyebrow as they quickly shut up. the silence that followed made you huff in annoyance.

“the last time you did this to me, charles, it ended in me not talking to you for three days. pick your battles.” you reminded him, hoping to jog his memory of when you were twelve and he had irritated you to the point of a silent treatment that lasted days. maman had eventually insisted you make up, teaching you a lesson about holding grudges.

“wait, you what?” lando laughed, looking between you and your brother.

“she ignored me for no reason! apparently, i was annoying her, so she decided to ignore me. she can deal with arthur, but not me. it was hurtful,” charles lamented, causing you to roll your eyes.

“going to ignore you again,” you grumbled, tightening the blanket over your shoulders. it was starting to get cold.

as he stood up, charles threw a pillow in your direction, nearly hitting you in the head. you stayed silent, shooting daggers at him as he retreated inside, claiming he was half asleep and wasn’t responsible for his actions.

lando stood up after him, reaching a hand out for you to grab onto as you stood. “it’s too cold. i think i’m frozen to the seat.” you looked up at him, a pout taking over your features.

laughing, the brit sat down next to you and wormed his way into your blanket. “let me warm you up. i don’t think sleeping out here would be a good idea.” there was a slight slur to his words, causing you to wonder if you sounded the same.

with lando this close, you unashamedly stared at him. you noted his long eyelashes, pretty eyes, smile lines, and the mole that dotted one of his cheeks. his cheeks were a rosy color, probably from the cold, but that didn’t stop you from reaching up and tousling his hair, messing up the curls that had stayed put for most of the day.

“can i help you?” he laughed, his smile forming a heart shape as his teeth showed.

“no,” you hummed, offering him a smile. “you’re just… pretty.”

your eyes met his, taking in their light color and how they seemed to shift from brown to a dazzling green. his eyes flicked down to your lips before he looked you in the eye again. one of his hands came up, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear.

next thing you knew, you felt the warmth of his lips on yours. warmth filled your body, your belly alive with butterflies as you kissed. you could vaguely taste the remnants of the alcohol he had consumed earlier, and it was delectable. all you could do was want more, but that wasn’t feasible – this was one of your brother’s friends and, well, one of his colleagues. the thought snapped you out of it, abruptly pulling away from lando.

clearing your throat, you looked at him, biting down on your lower lip. “i’m so sorry, i—” he started before you stopped him, shaking your head.

“good night, lando,” was all you could say as you stood up, quickly making your way inside and beelining it for your room.

this couldn’t be happening, not again.

[utterlyotterlyx]

Can I request 23, 20 and 13 with Azriel? Please and thank you!

Reckless

Azriel x Fem!Reader

Warnings - mentions of blood and injury, fluff

Based on the below prompts:

It’s three in the morning. If even half of that blood is yours you need to sit down right now. I don’t like saying ‘I told you so’ but- The hell you don’t, it’s your favourite phrase.

Enjoy!

The ticking clock and the sky drowning in its sorrow was enough to warn you that Azriel was going to be late. A once roaring fire had long since extinguished, bright molten embers nothing but ash that trickled through the grate and dusted the base.

It wasn't often that you had a moment with your mate, a real evening away from your duties to your court, and when you did you both made sure to put the maximum amount of effort in. Whether it be long walks along the Sidra, or nights in cooking together which you would always commandeer, Azriel would never miss it, he'd never meaningfully skip a chance to see you.

As the clock chimed, you turned your head to see the ornate finger poking the invisible one and sighed, shaking your head and pitifully scraping the untouched dinner plates into the compost bin, leaving them on the counter to tend to in the morning.

The house felt cold without him, but even then you'd still complain that it was cold when he was right beside you just so that you could have his arms wrap around you securely, and you were sure that he knew about it from the sly smirk he would always give you before opening his arms to, chuckling to himself as you'd scurry into his embrace.

Azriel had sent nothing down the bond, which meant that he was busy, but he was so late, five hours late be exact and it made you feel on edge; every time he had been late in the past he would send a flurry of adoration and guilt down the bond to reassure you that he would return to you, but there was nothing but stone cold silence and shadow shrouded walls locking you out.

Twiddling the large rock on your ring finger you began the journey to your bedroom.

Rhys had insisted on buying yourself and Azriel your own home as a mating gift, but not only that, he wanted to thank you your loyalty and the personal sacrifices you had both made to protect them and the Night Court, Azriel as his Spymaster and you as Prythian's best healer; that came in the form of a two-story town house on the outskirts of Velaris, far enough to have your own space, but still close enough so that you'd be available if you were needed.

The home was a perfect myriad of you both, deep blue armchairs and dark oaken floors, bookshelves packed full of Azriel's tomes and research with your own passion pieces littered between them. The kitchen was very much made for you, a large stove, hooks for all of your strangely carved mugs, a pantry to die for which you always strived to keep fully stocked. Cookbooks stood along the windowsill and a pair of weighing scales sat before them, ready to be thrown into another one of your culinary adventures.

You weren't sure sometimes if Azriel was more excited to be mated with you or eat the food you had offered him that night.

The bedroom was missing its other inhabitant, evident in the dim glow from a single flickering candle that made little to no movement as you entered, frowning and going about to reset the room, putting away the massage oils and peeling back the comforter to climb into its shivering embrace.

You weren't sure how much time had passed before you had heard him, scuffing his feet along the floor of the lounge and stopping, no doubt peering about at the effort you had made for date night, and you heard him sigh before his feet hit the steps heavily.

His scent had always flooded you, but you weren't a happy mate in that moment as you curled onto your side with your back facing the door. A cold breeze drifted in from the world he had brought into your home with him, "Angel..." his voice was quiet, pained, you could tell he was feeling guilty.

"It's three in the morning," you grumbled, staring out at the crescent moon beyond the paned window, your fingers brushing through the unbound hair that had fallen over your neck.

Then it hit you, the all to familiar metallic smell that you had become so accustomed to, so accustomed to that you hardly ever realised it was near unless there was copious amounts of it. Sniffing deeply, you rolled onto your back and propped yourself up on your elbows, examining your mate who was stood in the doorway with his head hung low.

From where you lay, you could see the blood glistening in the moonlight as his hand lay stuck to the doorknob. Shallow breaths passed through his lips and he winced at each one, then he tilted his head back and you saw him, and you gasped. His bottom lip was busted, blood leaked from it as it did from the cut to his brow, his hair was tussled and matted, his eyes were dark and dreary.

"If even half of that blood is yours you need to sit down right now," you threw the covers off of you and moved toward him, taking his face in your hands and looking into his eyes.

Azriel winced with every step he took toward the edge of your bed, usually you'd tell him off for mucking up the sheets, but you didn't say another word as you flitted about the room and gathered your usual supplied from the bathroom before settling onto your knees in front of him.

He knew that you were internally cursing him for getting himself into that state, you had told him endlessly to be careful, to listen to his shadows and leave if things seemed more sinister than usual. This particular mission had not been one that you had agreed with at all, but you had little say in the details of his career, he knew what he was doing and you usually trusted that.

It had only been a few days prior that you had told him that he needed to slow down, that you knew he wanted to do all he could to protect you and his home, that you couldn't think about bearing his child until he did. The thought of being a single mother terrified you, you had been very truthful about it, how you were so afraid that one day he might now return to you and you wouldn't be able to care for another life let alone your own.

Azriel hissed as you dabbed a cotton pad of alcohol to his bottom lip, doing your best to be gentle with him. You had muttered a small sorry, but when he surveyed your face, he saw unfiltered fear in your eyes, and he knew you were thinking about the worst case scenario.

You knew better than to ask for details, he wasn't the most open of males, but he was trying to be, for you. He had told you some details of the mission and you had expressed your ill feeling toward it, you had told him it felt too dangerous.

Your mate happily accepted the tonic you had given him to keep the pain at bay whilst you worked, pressing your fingers to his cuts and bruises and allowing your healing glow to fix him. You were from the Dawn Court, you were Thesan's most gifted healer, and you had healed Azriel when he crashed into your court after being hit by an ash arrow by some grounded assassins, from that moment there was no place he would allow you to be than right beside him.

"I didn't feel you," you muttered with a strained voice, clearly trying to hold back your tears, you had seen your mate in some terrible ways, but this had to be one of the worst.

"Fae bane," he hummed in discomfort when you moved your palms to the entrance wound of a knife no doubt, closing your eyes and allowing your power to float into him, your essence entangling itself with his own and mending every broken tendril of shadow, "You were right, I shouldn't have gone. Nothing about it felt right and I didn't listen to you."

"I don't like saying I told you so, but-"

"The hell you don't, it's your favourite phrase," it was no time to laugh but you smirked at his quip, one that he mirrored, and you knew then that he was going to be absolutely fine.

Azriel's face was clean from the cuts and bruises, and he looked physically relieved as he rolled his shoulders and his shadows came out to say hello, slithering up your arms and kissing your cheeks in thanks. His fingers grasped the backs of your thighs as you did a final check over, his touch sending lightening spreading through your body, and he pressed his lips along your collarbone, humming as he drank in your scent and felt peace consume him.

"I'm sorry for missing tonight, I'll make it up to you I promise," he mumbled against your skin, "You have me all week. I'm going to tell Rhys that I'm going to take it easier from now on. I want to focus on us, on you."

Hazel pools of serene bliss flowed into you and you kissed him, softly just in case he winced, a ghosting things that left him needed more, "You know how you could make it up to me right now?"

Azriel's eyes darkened with desire, pulling you closer, you placed your hands on his chest and pushed him back a few inches, smirking at his confusion, "You can take a shower, you stink and you're covered in blood," Azriel's face fell and you laughed, a pure and playful thing as you peered to where he was sat, "I'll change the sheets whilst you do. I cannot sleep with blood on the sheets, especially when I'm not sure if it's even yours."

Your mate rolled his eyes and stood, swaying over to the bathroom whilst peeling his leathers from his body, he lingered in the doorway and gazed back at you still kneeling at the foot of the bed, smirking, he drawled "It's not."

When he had returned, free from blood and smelling of his usual cedar musk, he climbed into the freshly made bed and pulled you close to his chest, inhaling the coconut from your shampoo as he buried his face into the crook of your neck.

"Does this mean I get to put a baby in you now?" Azriel's eyes drifted closed, willing a certain dream to infiltrate his consciousness as sleep began to consumed him, dragging him down into its embrace as you soothed out any tension in his body as you allowed your hands to trickle down his arms and over his chest. Sleepily and with a dragging tone that told you he was moments away from slipping into another world entirely, he spoke softly, "It's my favourite dream."

[jesswritesthat]

Sakusa Kiyoomi: Part of the Plan

Fandom: Haikyuu!! — [ Masterlist ]

Summary: ~0.8k, fluff

• You didn’t think helping a friend would ever lead you to be in demand from elite athlete Sakusa Kiyoomi, yet here you are.

Warnings: Post time skip spoilers.

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It was a soothing walk home you'd taken that evening, enjoying the fresh fragrance of the season when a brief interaction outside your apartment building caused you tilt your head and slow you pace.

"Oh here they are now!"

Your neighbour giddily shouted, pointing in your direction as evidence to the tall man beside her who then turned around. You recognised the athlete immediately, even without his signature teams' clothing draping his toned form.

"You made this meal plan?" It was direct, straight to the point, with recognisable scribbles held out before you.

It was apart of the plan you'd tailored for Atsumu, covering various nutritional aspects to help maintain energy and physique during the upcoming volleyball season. That damn blonde must've left it lying around at practice. You’ll get him back next time you hang out together but right now you held the prickly attention of his teammate.

"Oh yeah, I thought I was missing a page." Gratefully, you accepted the parchment with a polite smile whilst Sakusa shoved his hands in his pockets and spoke observantly through his mask.

"It's detailed, you know what you're doing."

"It's nothing overly professional but it does the job."

"It does more than that, I remember you always used to help out the volleyball team in middle school." He'd offhandedly mentioned, tilting his head slightly as if reminiscing - he was right, you were a year below and had volunteered to help the sports clubs when you could but you didn't think it'd be memorable.

Let alone to someone as antisocial and incredible as him, a top 5 Ace of the nation in Itachiyama.

"You recognise me?"

"You used a Hello Kitty plaster for my graze when first aid had run out of proper ones." This was said with what you assumed to be a disgruntled look since you couldn't see beyond his mask.

"It was a proper plaster. Just with more personality." You quipped back rather proudly, the player furrowing his brows slightly and responding with a hint of bemusement (you'd hoped).

"You said something similar back then, and I still disagree."

It was a slightly palpable silence that remained after that, unsure of how to react to Sakusa as a person rather than someone you'd considered out of reach quite yet. Thus he continued with an awkward clearing of his throat.

"Anyway, I was looking for you."

"To return my meal plan?" You instantly questioned, as if trying to aid the situation but he only shook his head before elaborating.

"To ask if you'd personalise one for me."

"Don't you have professionals for that?"

As a MSBY Black Jackals player, you’d expected them to have every amenity available to them in order to maximise performance - so for him to request such expertise from you was rather perplexing.

"I'm a picky eater." It wasn't as forward as answers you'd previously received, suggesting he was a little embarrassed about this disclosure.

"You're really gonna make this easy for me if I accept, aren’t you?" You retorted sarcastically, a raised brow sent his way but he remained unphased.

"I thought you may be looking to do this as a career, become a sport nutritionist?"

"Well I hadn't really thought that far ahead..."

Sakusa studied you thoughtfully, as if you were a new concept to his world that he didn’t understand yet, but he certainly wanted to try.

"Well as I progress, people will be interested in what I'm doing unfortunately. But it'll bring business your way."

It was considerate of him (even if he was repulsed by the idea of attention) to think about how the arrangement would benefit you also, it is an aspiring nutritions dream offer after all. Yet he presented no pressure, waiting patiently even if your casual shrug and acknowledgment wasn’t a conclusive decision.

"I mean as a Division 1 player, you're quite popular already."

"Think about it. Here's my number, give me a call if you change your mind." Sakusa gave you a slip with his contact information, burying his hands deep in his pockets once more and diverted his gaze away from you. "Or even if you don't."

"Thank you Sakusa, it was nice talking to you again."

The Spiker didn't respond verbally, instead nodding softly accompanied by a wave of his hand when walking away.

Your neighbour rejoined your side from where she’d retreated to, previously leaning against the building entrance steps with a joyous skip toward you and girly squeal to match.

"Did you just get Sakusa Kiyoomis' number?!"

"Yeah. For work."

"He came looking for you, he literally asked Miya-san for your address to return your plan himself. Then MSBYs' top spiker Sakusa Kiyoomi gave you his personal number." She reiterated again, adding emphasis and dramatics to the statement as if you'd failed to realise the weight of it.

"..." You glared discreetly, your neighbour far too enthused by such a thing, which was translated through your deadpan tone. "You're too excited about this."

"I don't think you're excited enough about this."

You ran your thumb over his elegant writing as you looked at the slip once again, a gentle smile subconsciously working its way to your lips at the thought.

“Maybe you’re right…”

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[ Masterlist ]

A/N: I have more… if you want…?

[domm1etae]

Hello!! If requests are still open can I ask for a Seonghwa/reader office fic? Ever since I've found that one office asmr video he did I can't stop thinking about it 😭

Overtime Attraction

seonghwa x reader

oneshot | mdni

2.5k

Y/N’s strict, no-nonsense boss Seonghwa calls them in for a late-night “work session” that quickly turns into way more than just project revisions

nsfw tags under

readers gender not specif. , top seonghwa, boss/employee, workplace tension, power dynamics, praise kink, slow burn, buildup, desk sex, possessive seonghwa, tension release, passionate make-out, teasing, thigh touching, mutual pining, eye contact, unguarded moments, lap straddling, finger teasing, deep kissing, after-hours intimacy, needy touches

Y/N hurried down the marble hallway, heels clicking in sync with the beat of the clock ticking on the wall. It was 8:59, and every second mattered when it came to Park Seonghwa. As their boss, he was notorious for his unwavering punctuality and no-nonsense attitude. Nothing frustrated him more than tardiness, and Y/N had been on the receiving end of his reprimands enough times to know they didn’t want to push his patience any further.

Sliding into their desk just as the clock struck nine, Y/N let out a small sigh of relief. But the relief was short-lived. Seonghwa’s office door opened, and he stepped out with his usual commanding presence. He scanned the room, his sharp gaze briefly landing on Y/N, and for a moment, they could feel their pulse race.

“Team meeting in the conference room. Now,” he announced, his tone clipped and direct. No unnecessary pleasantries. Just business as always.

Y/N grabbed their notebook, gathering themselves before following him. As they settled into their usual seat, they couldn’t help but feel a rush of nerves. This project was crucial, and Seonghwa had been working them all hard to ensure everything went perfectly. His expectations were high, and they didn’t want to be the one who let the team down.

Seonghwa took his seat at the head of the table, flipping through his notes with focused precision. He went over every aspect of the project, analyzing each detail and making it clear exactly what he wanted. His calm, authoritative tone filled the room, and Y/N found themselves hyper-aware of every word, jotting down notes to ensure they wouldn’t miss a thing. But despite their efforts, Seonghwa’s expression remained as unreadable as ever.

At the end of the meeting, as everyone else began packing up to leave, Seonghwa’s gaze fell on Y/N. He raised an eyebrow, his face as composed as always.

“Y/N, stay behind a moment.”

Y/N felt their stomach tighten with a mix of anticipation and dread. Had they made a mistake? They waited as the room emptied, glancing up at Seonghwa as he watched everyone file out. Once the door closed, he leaned back, his fingers steepled in thought.

“There’s a section in your report from last night that has some errors,” he said, his voice firm but not unkind. “Some critical data was left out. I’ll need to go over it with you later to make sure it’s fixed before tomorrow.”

Y/N nodded, feeling a pang of embarrassment. They’d spent hours on that report, meticulously checking each line, but evidently, it hadn’t been enough to meet his standards. “Of course, sir. I’m really sorry about the oversight—I thought I’d gotten everything.”

Seonghwa’s gaze softened, but only slightly. “I know you worked hard, and I appreciate the effort. But my standards are high for a reason.” He glanced at his watch. “I have meetings the rest of the day, so we’ll handle this tonight after hours. Make sure you’re available.”

Y/N’s heart skipped at the idea of being alone in the office with Seonghwa, especially given the tension that had been building between them over the past few weeks. There was something about him—his intense focus, his precision—that made it hard not to be captivated by him. And though they’d never admit it, the idea of a private meeting with him was thrilling.

“Understood,” they replied, maintaining their composure despite the rush of anticipation.

Throughout the day, Y/N worked tirelessly to finish other tasks while nervously glancing at the clock. The office gradually emptied, and by 7 PM, they and Seonghwa were the only ones left. As the last few coworkers waved goodbye, Seonghwa finally emerged from his office, his expression as composed as ever.

“Y/N,” he called, gesturing for them to follow him. They stood up, clutching their notes and laptop, and walked into his office, feeling a mix of nerves and excitement settle over them as he closed the door behind them.

He sat down across from them, pulling up the document on his computer. “Let’s start from the top,” he said, his tone matter-of-fact as he scanned through the lines. They worked through the report, his voice low and steady as he pointed out each section that needed correction.

But as the minutes ticked by, the air between them grew more charged. Every time his hand brushed over the mouse, or his shoulder accidentally brushed theirs, Y/N felt their heart skip a beat. His closeness was almost dizzying, and the usual stoic, unbreakable mask he wore seemed to falter slightly as they moved through the corrections together.

At one point, as they both reached for the same section on the screen, their hands met, lingering longer than necessary. Y/N looked up, catching the flicker of something deeper in his gaze—a hint of warmth, of something that wasn’t entirely professional. His fingers lingered on theirs, and he didn’t pull away.

Seonghwa cleared his throat, finally releasing their hand. But his gaze remained intense, locked on them with an unreadable expression. “Y/N,” he began, his voice lower than before, carrying a hint of vulnerability. “I… don’t usually let things like this happen.”

Y/N’s heart pounded. “Me neither,” they whispered, barely able to find their voice. There was something raw in his expression, something they hadn’t seen before. And in that moment, the weight of his controlled, disciplined exterior finally broke.

He leaned forward, his hand reaching out to brush a strand of hair from their face. “You’ve been working so hard,” he murmured, his fingers grazing their cheek with surprising tenderness. “But I think there’s been something between us for a while now.”

Y/N’s breath hitched, and before they could respond, he closed the distance between them, his lips brushing softly against theirs. The kiss was gentle at first, almost cautious, as if testing the waters. But as they melted into his touch, his grip on their waist tightened, pulling them closer. His strict, measured demeanor fell away, replaced by a passion that left them breathless.

Seonghwa lifted them onto his desk, his hands exploring with a newfound freedom that left them shivering. He whispered praise, his words quiet and reverent, as if he were savoring each moment. “I’ve wanted this for longer than I should admit,” he murmured against their skin, his voice thick with desire.

Y/N wrapped their arms around his neck, pulling him closer, their own restraint slipping away. The air was charged, heavy with everything unspoken between them.

Seonghwa’s lips brushed against Y/N’s, deepening the kiss as his hands found their waist, pulling them flush against him. Y/N’s legs shifted, one knee rising as they positioned themselves on his lap, their skirt hiking up as they straddled him. A low sound rumbled from his chest, sending a shiver down Y/N’s spine as his fingers traced circles on their thighs.

“Y/N…” Seonghwa’s breath ghosted over their lips, his voice thick with a want he had carefully kept buried until now. “You… have no idea…”

Y/N’s fingers traced up to his tie, tugging it slightly, silently urging him closer. He let out a soft groan, pressing his hips forward so they could feel the evidence of his own need. His hands traveled up their sides, grazing over the fabric of their blouse, his touch just shy of indulgent.

“More,” Y/N whispered, the word escaping them in a needy breath. They felt their pulse quicken as his hands finally traveled to cup their face, his thumb brushing softly over their bottom lip before trailing down, brushing over the sensitive spot at the base of their neck.

A sly smile played on Seonghwa’s lips as he watched their reactions, reveling in every hitch of their breath and the faint flush on their cheeks. “Oh, you want more?” His voice held a note of control, deep and rich, as if he was savoring each moment of their unraveling.

“Yes…” they murmured, and he raised an eyebrow, his hands sliding back down to grip their waist firmly. They gasped softly as he lifted them onto his desk, his expression darkening as he took in the sight of them, legs spread just enough to reveal the hint of lace at the edge of their skirt.

He leaned in, capturing their lips again, a little rougher this time, his gloved hand reaching to cradle their cheek while his other hand trailed to their thigh, inching upward with a slow deliberateness. Each kiss became more intense, more consuming, until they felt dizzy with need. His thumb traced small circles on the bare skin just below the hem of their skirt, his lips moving to trail down their neck, nibbling softly as he went.

Y/N’s hands clutched the back of his blazer, pulling him close as he teased them, letting out a quiet whimper as his hand finally ventured to the edge of their underwear. “Seonghwa, please…”

He smiled against their skin, his breath warm as he whispered, “Shh, we’re not alone yet. Do you really want someone to hear?” But despite his caution, his thumb pressed into them through the fabric, earning a muffled gasp from Y/N as they bit their lip to keep quiet.

"Good. Just like that,” he murmured, his voice heavy with approval, as he toyed with them, keeping the touch just light enough to drive them wild with need. “Be good for me, and I’ll give you exactly what you want.”

Unable to contain their need any longer, they pressed their hips up to meet his touch, their body aching for more as he continued to tease, his fingers tracing soft circles around their most sensitive spot, still separated by just a thin layer of fabric. His control, his restraint, was maddening, and he relished every second of watching them unravel under his touch.

With his other hand still steady on their cheek, he finally whispered against their lips, “Hold on to me, Y/N.”

Seonghwa’s voice was steady and sure, like he was holding the reins even as the world tilted beneath them both. Y/N’s pulse quickened, their hands clutching his shoulders, fingers digging into the firm line of his back. His words echoed in their mind—Hold on to me. They did as he commanded, wrapping their legs around his waist, drawing him closer still, as he continued his slow, torturous exploration.

His fingers traced the waistband of their underwear, skimming over their skin just enough to leave a tingling path. He maintained eye contact, a look of both mischief and fierce intent in his gaze, as if savoring the power he held in their shared secret, here, alone in his office after hours. Y/N was panting softly, struggling to keep quiet even as their restraint unraveled under his measured, relentless touch.

Seonghwa’s lips met the edge of their jawline, and he brushed his nose along their cheek, lingering by their ear. His whisper was barely audible, but it sent a shiver down their spine. “You’re so beautiful like this, Y/N,” he murmured. “So responsive… so ready for me.”

Y/N’s head tilted back, giving him access to the curve of their neck, and he didn’t waste the opportunity. His lips trailed down, placing open-mouthed kisses along their throat, teeth grazing just enough to leave a whisper of pressure before he soothed each spot with his tongue. His hand slid up their thigh, and this time, he didn’t stop at the edge of their underwear. His fingers slipped beneath the fabric, finding their center, slick and warm with anticipation.

A shaky breath escaped Y/N as his fingers began to move, slow and sure, teasing and tracing over every sensitive spot he discovered. Y/N’s hands found his tie again, tugging at it reflexively as their head fell back, eyes fluttering shut as they lost themselves in the sensation. His touch was skilled, and the friction drove them to the brink, each movement adding fuel to the smoldering fire between them.

“Look at me,” he commanded, his voice low, a trace of roughness seeping into his usually controlled tone. Y/N’s gaze met his, and the intensity in his eyes made them feel as if they were laid bare, every inch of desire on display for him alone. He didn’t look away, his fingers moving with greater purpose now, watching every small gasp and whimper, reveling in the effect he had on them.

When he finally withdrew his hand, Y/N bit back a whine of protest, only to feel him shift them back on the desk, guiding them to lie back. The cold surface beneath was a stark contrast to the warmth radiating from his body as he loomed over them, lips curved in a self-assured smirk.

“Be patient, Y/N,” he whispered as he leaned down, his hands tracing the curves of their body before he carefully unbuttoned their blouse, his touch gentle yet decisive. “We don’t want to rush this… not after all that time spent building up to it.”

With each article of clothing he removed, his gaze became more intense, drinking in the sight of them with an appreciative, possessive gleam. When they were finally bared before him, he let his hands roam, mapping every inch of them, his touch both comforting and electrifying.

His lips claimed theirs again, and this time, there was no restraint. His kiss was demanding, consuming, his hands gripping their hips as he settled between their legs. They could feel the hard press of him against their core, both of them beyond any semblance of control. His fingers laced with theirs as he aligned himself, pressing forward with an exquisite slowness that made them gasp. His forehead rested against theirs as he whispered, “You’re mine tonight, Y/N. Every part of you.”

With every thrust, his control slipped just a bit further, and he abandoned the careful restraint he had kept around his desire for so long. They clung to each other, their shared need overcoming any lingering hesitations, their breaths mingling in the heated silence of the empty office.

Each movement was a promise fulfilled, a long-held tension finally released, as he guided them to the brink, his voice a steady, grounding presence in their ear, murmuring words of praise and desire that left them trembling beneath him. And as they reached their peak together, Seonghwa’s name fell from Y/N’s lips in a breathless whisper, echoing into the quiet, marking the end of one kind of distance—and the beginning of something far more consuming.

They stayed close, breaths slowing as they held each other, still entangled on his desk. Seonghwa’s fingers gently traced along their arm, as if reluctant to let them go, even now. He smiled, soft and real, his usually sharp expression softened in a rare, unguarded moment.

“Tomorrow…” he began, a hint of amusement in his voice, “you might just have to stay late again.”