#is that a jealousy thing- he doesn't want me to like one of his other friends
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LET IT ONCE BE ME | Spencer Reid x Prentiss!Reader [7]
Description: The THREE times she waits + the ONE time she doesn't have to.
length: 17.9k
trigger warnings: criminal minds gore + violence. jealousy. talks of sex and male and female anatomy. they get horny for one another basically. talks of Maeve + day of the dead. yearning idk? mention of one twin absorbing the other one in the womb (sorry if this is taken the wrong way but I conferred with my friend who did this when she was a foetus and she said it's not offensive and is okay to talk about so?)
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‘Let it once be me, who do I have to speak to
About if they can redo the prophecy?’
The one where they pretend to be married
“I will not be exploited in my own home,” Bugsy chided, the faint smell of burning toast filling the small kitchenette. The butter knife sat ready in her hand, salted spread dripping down the handle where she’d been busy making breakfast before she had been called.
He blinked back at her, unamused.
“No. You cannot just scream at me whenever you want something from me. This relationship is toxic,” She huffed, turning back to butter her toast with the thick goodness. Sometimes she loathed living with three boys who had her wrapped around their fingers.
The second piece of bread popped out of the toaster, which she quickly grabbed and began spreading, her fingers gripping onto the crusts gently as she did so. The squealing started again just as she readied herself to take the first bite, and she whirled around to see the two orange eyes that stared at her from on top of the counter.
“Sergio, stop. You’ll get Niko all wound up-” She hadn’t even finished her sentence when Spencer shuffled into the kitchen, his hair mussed from sleep, his long plaid pyjama bottoms skirting high up his ankles where he’d impossibly hit another growth spurt and forgot to find better fitting clothes. Niko darted in between his legs, rushing to jump up on the breakfast bar, where Sergio was already interrogating Bugsy for more treats, a low yowl leaving his throat at the thought of being left out of feeding. “You boys are driving me crazy, no more biscuits for today-”
The yowl grew in decibels, a second one symphonying it, and she rolled her eyes, ignoring the whiney babies, turning to hand Spencer his piece of toast, crust already cut off and split into halves the way he liked it.
“I warned you not to treat them when I’m not here, they’ve become spoiled brats,” She huffed, though she felt her entire body warm up when she looked at his doe eyes, still half idled with sleep as he watched her swan around his kitchen, their kitchen technically since she had all but moved in to his little apartment meant for two housemates.
But they weren’t just house mates. They weren’t even dating. But she knew he wanted to. Because he loved her.
“How could you expect me to say no, they’re so compelling,” He said, his voice gravelly where he’d lightly snored, as much as he always denied he did, fussing Niko behind the ear with long, gentle fingers. He took the plate out of her hand, his eyes swirling with a moved expression when he saw she’d cut his crusts off, his gaze snapping back up to where she’d sweeped her hair out her face, a large shirt and a pair of his clean boxers adorning her figure, “Thankyou,”
He hadn’t said the three magic words since, neither of them had. But they felt it. The weird static that had been thick in the air between them before was crackling along their skin with every glance, like they were both thinking the same thing.
I love you, and you love me.
He smiled at her warmly, the urge to grab her by her face and kiss her skin all over almost overwhelming him, because he counted himself lucky every single day. She loved him. She loved him. She loved him. He heard it in every heart beat, like a mantra that his chest clung to since the words had spilled from her soft lips. She was waiting for him, for his head to settle with the idea that Maeve was gone, and he could let her go and not feel terrible about it; waiting for him to make the first move.
“Coffee?” He asked, watching her eyes soften as they trailed over his face, and he worried he looked a little worse for wear since he’d rolled out of bed and headed towards the source of the girl he loved arguing with someone in the kitchen even though that someone had turned out to be the greedy bastard they loved dearly.
He knew he was the luckiest guy in the world to have her waiting on him, and he never let himself forget it.
“Yes, please,” She said, and he brushed past her, close enough for it to be on purpose when their arms touched, his hands busying themselves in between the plate and munching on the first bite of breakfast, because he didn’t know what he might do if they spent one more second looking at one another like that.
She watched him move towards the kettle she’d sent him for Christmas when she was in London. After using one for two weeks she’d seen the light and realised he would love the nifty little invention. Her arm burned where he’d touched as if he’d taken a flame to her skin, her chest boiling up with every single thing she could think to tell him, like how good his hair looked when he didn’t do much with it, or how hot his voice sounded like that, or that she really really did love him the way she’d never even thought possible outside her silly romance novels, that she’d never believed Pip when he’d told Estella; “You are part of my existence, part of myself. You have been in every line I have ever read,” and yet when she thought of it now, watching Spencer busy himself shovelling sugar into two mugs, it made entire perfect sense.
She couldn’t remember who she was before she knew him, and she didn’t ever want to know.
She opened her mouth to say something, perhaps to say those three little words again, or just to tell him he smelled good even when he hadn’t put any deodorant or aftershave on, but her phone’s ringtone cut her off.
Already knowing it was going to be Penelope with a new case, she flicked the call on to speaker phone, “What you got for me, baby girl?” She said, trying to make her voice as deep as it would go, and she heard Spencer snickering where he was stirring hot water into the instant coffee.
“Was that supposed to be Morgan?” Pen’s voice replied, a small chuckle of her own evident even through the digital tone.
“I thought that was pretty good,” Bugsy replied, stuffing the last of the toasted bread into her mouth.
“I thought he was right in the room with us for a moment there,” Spencer chimed in, humouring her, as he also took an enormous bite from his breakfast, knowing they were more than likely about to be called in and their game of house, one where they flustered every time they spoke, was going to be over, “I was like, woah, Morgan, when did you get here-”
“Alright, my little rascals. We have a case, Hotch wants everyone in,” Penelope said, no doubt already paging through JJ, “No more coffee for either of you, you’re both being weird enough as it is,”
“Definitely not,” Spencer said, sliding the mug of milky, sweet caffeine over to Bugsy who smiled at him wickedly.
“Wheels up in twenty, Garcia,” The woman added in the same voice as before, Spencer laughing with a shake of his head and moving to stand behind her, his chest pressed against her back, his arm winding around her waist to give her a small, affectionate squeeze on the hip.
Penelope sighed, already accepting that their mercurial attitudes weren’t going away any time soon, the sudden mood change entirely odd to the rest of the team who had no idea that they had almost kissed just one week ago. To everyone else, they just seemed to have bounced back to normal, reverted back to Bugsy and Spencer; attached at the hip, only the eye contact and secretive smiles had been dialled to a hundred. The line went dead, and her head shot to look at him, where his hand had yet to move, and it was scoldingly hot against the soft fat that gathered at her hips.
“I’ll get your good shirt, I put it out to dry yesterday,” She said, her voice suddenly much less brave than it had been when she saw his eyes crinkling with a small smile.
He nodded, and she caught his gaze trailing down her nose, darting over her lips for a second in a way that made her chest rev like a Ferrarri out of gear. She felt her breath catch in her throat when he looked back up to her eyes, his forest hues entrancing like he was playing some silent flute song and she was a snake dancing under his orders.
He took a second to realise they were standing in his kitchen, his body pressed against hers like he hadn’t even realised they were so close, like he’d just gravitated to her that way, like he couldn’t stop it even if he’d tried to. He’d had a taste of nectar, and he was a drunk man ever since.
Spencer wrangled a hold of himself, allowing himself to stroke the back of her head lovingly, and pressing a kiss to her crown, before he stepped away from her, and the siren song dropped, the two of them dispersing to get ready for the case.
Bugsy swore she could hear her heart pounding the entire drive to headquarters.
–
“I think the real question is why married couples?” Hotch mused, a steaming cup of black coffee sitting in front of him on the jet, his nose in the file on his lap.
Bugsy scanned over the manilla folder in her hands, her legs swinging rhythmically beneath the table she sat on, Rossi to her left, her own second cup of coffee squeezed between her thighs. It was a heavy case for a weekend morning, three married couples found slashed and dumped together, the UnSub showing no signs of slowing or stopping.
“If he’s a sadist, having a witness to his torture heightens his pleasure,” Alex added, her lips pursed in contemplation, her hair primped surprisingly neat considering they’d been called in with little to no notice on a Sunday.
“Israel Keyes kidnapped a husband and wife at gunpoint, got them in a car, took them to a remote location, and then killed the husband in front of the wife,” Spencer said, trying not to look straight at Bugsy when he felt her eyes on him.
He’d never been one to keep a good poker face, never been good at hiding how he felt especially when he was happy. And she made him happier than he deserved to be. He knew their little arrangement would become glaringly obvious to the rest of the team if he let himself look at her. he had no control of his face when it came to her, how he felt his eyes soften, his lips turn up into a dopey smile, his hands itching to touch her just to confirm she was real.
He saw her head tilt down, into her lap as she tried desperately to focus on the words on the page, but he caught the small smile that she kept for herself, and he had a feeling she was struggling just as much as he was.
“Keyes was a sexual sadist, though,” Rossi interjected, his hands wrapped around a scolding cup of the green tea Penelope had bought them because she’d read of the stress relief benefits. They’d taken it, but David and Bugsy were the only ones who had tried it, “This guy, I don’t know,”
“Cutting a husband and wife to death, it’s more like he’s mocking their marriage bond,” JJ said, her bluebell hues dancing to Bugsy when the girl chimed in.
“Mutilating both of them, killing them together, it’s like the idea of couples and happy marriage is a trigger for him; it’s personal. He wants to make them pay for their happiness, likely because something’s stopping him from having it too,” She said, taking a long sip of her coffee, Rossi nodding along with her.
“That’s where my head’s at. ‘You took each other for better or worse, now I’m going to show you worse’,” He said, leaning back against the table, his shoulder nudging the younger girl.
Derek stroked a hand over his stubbled beard, “His home life’s probably a wreck, at least one ex-wife, not to mention mom and dad,”
“Alright we need to hit the ground,” Hotch said, flicking a glance at the youngest agent where she was all but inhaling her sweet beverage, “Prentiss and Reid, I want you mapping out a geographical profile,”
She nodded, her eyes slowly trailing to Spencer’s as Hotch distributed jobs around the team, but her head subconsciously tuned his stern voice out into static. Because when she looked up at his face, he was already staring at her, and the sound of her heartbeat racing crawled its way back into her ear, the thrumming so loud she was sure David could hear it too, she might as well have held a megaphone to her mouth and announced “Spencer Reid, you make me so nervous in the good kind of way,”
His hazel eyes trailed over her face, her expression unreadable as she scrambled to keep a lid on her feelings, and she wondered if this was where the phrase ‘Don’t shit where you eat,’ came from, because him so much as looking at her wiped her mind completely, which was not ideal for an agent working on a case. But she couldn’t help it, he was enchanting, and she guessed he was having just as much of an inner quarrel as he looked away from her, the apples of his cheeks and tips of his earlobes turning a strawberry ice cream pink.
She had no idea how she was going to make it through the rest of the day so close to him.
–
“First couple were last seen on the corner of Hill Avenue, Bella Mia Italian restaurant,” Bugsy read from her scrawled notes, as Spencer took a purple white board pen to the map of Detroit. Drawing a circle of a 5 centimetre radius around the little dot, he kept his eyes ahead of him. Hearing her pace behind him, he didn’t need to look up to know she was chewing her cuticles again.
“Stop biting,” He chided lightly, hearing a guilty silence where he knew she’d caught herself with embarrassment. He tried not to show his amusement, knowing it would only make her feel worse, he bit down a smirk and raised his pen back to the map, “Next one?”
She’d been on edge all day. He would have probably brushed it off as caffeine jitters seeing as she was on her fourth cup already, but Spencer knew her too well to know her tolerance was so high she had about two more mugs in her before she’d start to crash.
He knew what it was, the memory of her skin beneath his lips burning his cheeks all over again, the look in her eyes when he’d been close enough they were sharing breath. He knew what it was because he felt it too. It was like their confession had set off a ticking time bomb, one that neither of them had the countdown to, and the clicking of every passing second sounded oddly like a pulse in their throats. To put it short, just the sound of her footsteps was making his skin pimpled with gooseflesh.
“Uh, next one is Bowlarama, about ten stores down from there, Couple number two were seen getting milkshakes and heading towards the parking lot before they went missing,” She recited, her fingers firmly clutching the paper in her hand to resist the urge of gnawing at her nails again. Why was she so nervous? She lived with Spencer, ate breakfast, lunch and dinner with Spencer, spent almost all her evenings either playing chess or watching movies with Spencer, or on the odd occasion he found a book in reach he hadn’t read yet, he’d read out parts to her he found particularly engaging to those million, trillion, billion neurological pathways of his.
The squealing of the pen against the board was the only thing keeping her head in the case, Spencer’s messy handwriting dotting around the map with points of interest, and she begged her brain to kick into gear the way it normally did, tried everything to yank herself out of the head fog she’d found herself lost in where thoughts of him emerged through like Mr Darcy strolling through those clouded moors, like how his voice sounded when he smiled, how his hand looked gripping that pen, how his body was lithe and handsome even from the back.
She shook her head, jamming her face back into her files, to the gory images of couple number three, mutilated and bloody, and reminded herself she had a job to do.
Get it together, Prentiss.
“Couple number three’s last known location was on the corner of Whittier Avenue, outside a wine bar named Blue Mates,” Bugsy read out, hoping her hot cheeks would dissipate before he noticed, “It seems couples out on date night really agitate this guy,”
Spencer hummed, focused on his third circle, the three of them overlapping with almost precise measurements. It was hard not to notice the pattern to them. He heard her draw nearer with his profile complete, and they stood beside one another, so close they knocked hands when they leaned in to take a closer look at the rings.
“He hits the same street of stores every time, one after another,” Spencer said, his long forefinger trailing down the strip of shops and bars the UnSub seemed to have a taste for, “I mean, excluding retail and supermarkets, since they’re unlikely spots for a husband and wife to go out on a date, the pattern is really quite linear where he hits next,”
Gently taking the pen out of his hands, Bugsy leaned up to colour in every single store that would be considered retail, crossing out a pet shop or two, leaving only the cafes, bars, restaurants, even a cinema. And sure enough, the three spots the victims had been last seen lined up perfectly as the first three ‘date night’ locations on the strip, the next being a steak restaurant named The Greasy Grill.
“How much do you want to bet our UnSub is getting a craving for Sirloin right about now?” Bugsy said, putting the pen down onto the table and they exchanged a look of accomplishment, just as Hotch walked in with the Chief of Detroit police.
“What did you find?” Hotch asked, his eyes falling to the asterisks drawn on the whiteboard, the rest of the known locations Penelope had sent dotted around the map.
“Date night is very important to this UnSub,” Spencer said, the two of them turning to their boss, his shoulder bumping hers, and it was only then she’d realised she was all but pressing up into his side.
“He goes on dates?” The chief of police asked, his brows furrowed. Taking a step away, her eyes darting to the map as a means of distracting herself, she pointed to the ink marks they’d squiggled on the paper.
“No, but the victims do and he knows that,” She explained, tracing a chewed fingertip down the street, “The UnSub hit here first, where our first couple went out for pizza. He then moved down here where the second victims had their date night in a bowling alley, and onto our newest victims, they were last seen having wine here, each kidnapping site along the same strip with the next possible location being right here,” She said, her finger slapping against the Greasy Grill, Hotch nodding in thought as the Chief got on the phone with his own team.
“Good work, you two,” Hotch hummed, and he opened his mouth to speak again when Bugsy’s phone began to ring.
Snatching it out of her pocket, she caught sight of Alex’s name before swiping to answer, pressing it to her ear, “Hello?”
“Fourth victim has just been found dumped in a car.” The woman said immediately, and Bugsy switched her mobile to speaker so the other two could hear her. Turning on her heels to face the white board, she grabbed the pen resting on the table beside her, yanking the lid off with her teeth.
“Where?” She asked, Spencer picking the plastic from between her lips to help her communicate, her eyes focused on the road names as she waited for Alex’s response.
“Back alley between Warren and Forest Avenue, one woman found alone in a white Buick,” Alex said, and all three of their faces scrunched in confusion as she said it.
“He’s changed his victimology,” Spencer murmured and Bugsy nodded, her lips pressed in a flat line, “Alex, is the woman married at least, or has the UnSub completely altered his preference?”
“We have her husband here right now,” Alex confirmed, and Hotch stepped over to where the two geniuses inspected the map, “He said he missed a dinner reservation they had two nights ago at a restaurant called-”
“The Greasy Grill?” Spencer and Bugsy spoke synchronously, and Alex paused audibly.
“I take it you two have figured out his pattern already?” She asked, though she didn’t sound all too surprised.
“See if the husband knows anything else, Blake. We’re going to figure out the next location that fits the pattern,” Hotch ordered, and they bid each other goodbye, as Bugsy and Spencer were already coordinating which plots of land were retail stores.
By the time the line went dead, there was a big red mark circling a mini golf course slash cocktail bar, and the duo looked at him expectantly.
“If the UnSub keeps his victims for around three days at a time, and the woman was found this morning, my guess is he’s going to head there tonight,” Bugsy said, capping the pen and dropping it back onto the desk, feeling Spencer nodding behind her, “And if the victim was supposed to be at the restaurant with her husband, it means he’s still looking for couples, he just happened to get unlucky. He’s going to want another happy-go-lucky husband and wife pairing,”
Hotch’s face became unreadable for a moment, his gaze switching between the two of them, like he was assessing the risk factor of sending his two youngest agents undercover for the second time. But they seemed to have worked together seamlessly the first time, in that casino, so he didn’t see the qualms about asking them to work the same act this time.
“What?” Bugsy asked, the look in his eye unnerving her, and she flicked a glance behind her at Spencer’s equally lost expression, turning back to see Hotch dialling Dave’s number to update him on their plan, “Hotch, what is it?”
“He wants a happy couple,” Hotch said, his phone already up to his ear as he eyed the little to zero space between the two agents who swore blind they were just friends, “We’re going to give him one,”
–
She had to admit, this was a little nicer than the red dress she’d been stuffed into last time. The sundress was flowy enough she could hide her gun strapped to her hip, and still compliment her figure nicely enough that she couldn’t complain. And best of all, it meant she could wear her ballet pumps instead of those god awful stilettos she’d pulled out last time they were undercover.
She still remembered that evening in the casino, watching Spencer’s big brain tick faster than she’d thought possible even for him. The briefing of this even seemed much more relaxed, seeing as their aim was to look like the happiest couple alive. ‘You worry about playing your parts, we’ll worry about playing ours,’; was what Alex had said when she’d brought in a dress about Bugsy’s size, the woman already styling her hair to look like she was really going on a date.
Because she was, sort of, not really, going on a date with Spencer. Except none of it was real, like someone up there had to have one final laugh at her luck, like that carrot on a string she’d been waiting patiently for the past week was looking a lot more delicious by the second as it dangled in front of her.
There was a knock on the small hotel room Hotch had booked them in for the evening, seeing as they were going to be scoping out the area until late, and Bugsy headed for the door without pause, thinking it was JJ returning with the fake wedding rings they’d gotten from a cheap jewellers down the street.
She swung the door open, only to be greeted by two dark eyes looking at her done up face, her primped hair, her floral dress.
“Spence,” She said, picking over every inch of him, breathless already, because she always thought he looked hot in a button down shirt, his sleeves rolled to his elbows, “You look-”
“You look beautiful,” He rushed, like he might just burst if he held it in any longer, and she smiled sheepishly, her face flooding with heat all over again. Damn you, Reid, with your stupid charm and ridiculously good looking lips.
“You look beautiful too,” She complimented, noticing a gold band on his finger then and she realised he had something in his palm, “You run into JJ already?”
He nodded, smiling with a stammered breath, “Yeah, I said I’d come check if you were ready. Hotch and Dave are already there scoping out the bar,”
She simpered under the weight of his nervousness, “Well, I’m ready,” Holding out her left hand, she raised her ring finger, “Marry me, pretty boy,”
He snickered, shaking his head at her clear diversion from the stifling tension in the air, and held her hand in his delicately, his skin warm as it encompassed hers entirely, and he was careful to slip the false engagement ring over her digits, following it with a gold band of her own.
“You ready to get your ass kicked at miniature golf whilst our friends catch a criminal, Mr Reid?” She asked, and he had yet to let go of her hand as she shut the door behind her, slipping her hotel room key into her purse.
“That’s a bold statement from such a sore loser, Mrs Reid,” He said back, a smile so wide he thought he might burst a vessel as she laughed, and tightened her fingers around his, interlacing them just like she had done a handful of times before, and his chest crackled with white hot excitement when she knocked her shoulder into his side in affection.
His lips scorched with the words Mrs Reid the entire drive to the bar.
–
“Any eyes on him, yet?” Bugsy whispered to the women in the stalls, touching up her lipstick as JJ and Alex hid in the women’s bathroom for the signal.
“Not yet,” Blake said, sitting on the closed toilet seat in her kevlar and jacket, all but twiddling her thumbs and wishing she’d brought a sudoku, “Are you guys having fun at least?”
“Pretending to be married to my best friend while a serial killer eyes up my guts for the taking; yeah I’m peachy,” Bugsy replied, rubbing her lips together and making sure her gun was still strapped tight to her hip, “Besides, he really is kicking my ass at golf,”
“He’s going to let you win anyway, you know that right?” JJ said, tucking her feet up onto the seat in her own stall in case anyone who wasn’t on their team came in to the bathroom, “He always lets you win because he knows it makes you happy,”
Bugsy paused, the tissue that was collecting rogue lipstick smudges from her face almost falling in the sink, and she was quick to gather her voice with a clear of her throat.
“Maybe I just win because I’m good, Jennifer,” She said, a lilt of teasing in her tone, binning the scrap tissue paper and heading for the door, “Keep an eye out, kiddos. I’m going back in,”
They chirped a goodbye, the two of them sighing as they waited for Hotch’s message, and Bugsy walked back out to where Spencer was waiting by Hole Seven. It was a classic windmill on top of a hill, a small tunnel where the door was supposed to be leading to a lower level behind the plastic decor, where the hole lay waiting for them.
“You ready, honey?” He said, holding out a purple putter they’d chosen at the start of the course, and she smiled genuinely at him. She had been telling somewhat of a lie when she’d been so unenthusiastic in the bathroom, though she thought telling the women just how much fun she was having being married to Spencer might just rub salt in the wound considering they were bored stiff sat in the bathroom.
That and she wanted to keep whatever it was they were feeling theirs and only theirs for just a little bit longer.
“Ready, my love,” She sang in response and let him go first. He had to lean over a fair bit seeing as he was so tall he made everything on the course look particularly miniature, including the putter that seemed dwarfed by his height. Taking a quick look at the hill, no doubt calculating the angle and force he would need to hit it with, he gave the little, pink golf ball a generous tap and it raced up the slope, straight into the tunnel. They heard it knocking around a little in the chamber, before it came careering out the other end and rolled no closer than a yard away from the hole.
Bugsy looked at him with wide eyes, to which he pretended not to look almost arrogant with how easy he’d made it seem, only when he looked back at her with a shit eating grin, she knew exactly how pleased with himself he was.
“I bet it’s not that difficult, it’s all just a matter of force and drag and whatnot, right?” She said, strolling up to place her lilac ball on the inky dot marking the start.
“Totally, although this is where, I don’t know, say a degree in Engineering would come in useful, I bet,” Spencer chimed in, and she didn’t need to look at him to know he had that smirk on his face.
“Mr Reid, get ready to eat your words,” She replied over her shoulder, smacking the ball hard enough it flew up the slope, bouncing off the wall of the windmill and racing all the way back down the hill, rolling right back to where they stood, Spencer hiding a laugh behind his hand. She gaped, her face hot with annoyance, “Wait, wait! That was a practice run, I get another go,”
“Practice run, I see,” Spencer said with a chuckle, shoving his hands in his pockets, and watching her scramble to set the ball back on the marker, “So out of interest, how many of these practice runs are you getting,”
“Just the one,” She said, hitting the plastic globe again, though this time it barely made it half way up the incline before it rolled right back down again, “Two, I get two. This one’s the real one, starting now,”
“The real one? So this one’s really the one that counts, right?” He teased, and she glared at him over her shoulder. He stepped closer to her, a look of the cat that got the cream smeared all across his face as he took a stance behind her, wrapping his arms around hers with the oldest trick in the book, “Why don’t you let your dearest husband help you out, huh?”
“I have a masters and half a degree in medicine, I think I know what I’m doing,” She hummed, though the feeling of his hands resting over hers soone quietened down whatever fire was stoked in her belly from losing their game. Spencer was so close she could feel him breathing down her neck, feel his chest on her shoulder blades, and worst and most heinous of all, feel his crotch pressing against her tailbone.
“Alright, alright. Just humour me,” He murmured, a new found confidence in him that he only seemed to get whenever they were playing the part of being other people. He gave her a salacious lick of his lips, smiling at her with a pink parted mouth, his eyes dark in this light like he knew what she was thinking as well, and he couldn’t help but think she looked so pretty when he flirted with her a little. He’d always thought that when she was stunned into that quiet tone, the mousy look she got on her face was rather cute.
His hands engulfed hers with a mesh of pornographic veins and sadistically handsome knuckles, his mouth at her ear as they lined up the shot together.
It was as if a murmuration of birds had flocked together in her chest, dipping and diving and creating all manner of shapes in her stomach as she felt it flip three or four times, his body so entirely pressed against hers she never wanted to move a muscle. She’d had the odd thought pop into her head about what sex with Spencer Reid might feel like, and yet all she could think about in the haze of the putter and fake grass beneath their feet was how delicious he felt pressing into her like that.
He leaned in, his lips brushing against her ear as she looked forward again, and she could have sworn she held back a moan when he breathed out down her spine.
“Hotch has eyes on a guy at the bar watching us,” He whispered, her back straightening as she was reminded with a slap to the face they were still working the case. That as much fun as they were having, as happy as they were supposed to seem, they still had a very real job to do, and she felt stupid for thinking the flirty glances and erotic embrace was for anything more than to sell the married couple act.
But Bugsy was nothing if not committed to her job. So instead of worrying if Spencer had felt anything real in the last hour or so, she decided to double down and give their UnSub a real show.
Sticking her ass out so she brushed against Spencer’s crotch more, she intertwined her fingers with his, and hit the dimpled sphere the direction he guided her; and sure enough it rolled straight into the tunnel with little qualms.
Spinning in his arms, the smile was nearly wiped off her face when she saw Spencer’s eyes had darkened to a rich espresso hue as he looked at her. But she hid it well, despite the fact she caught the way his pupils were blown wide, and simply leaned to kiss him smack dab on his cheek, a smirk on her face when she pulled away.
“I guess I just needed the correct motivation,” She said with a flirty undertone, and she revelled in the way his lips parted enough she saw the whites of his absurdly pretty teeth.
“Remind me to not take you out to mini golf for our first date,” Spencer huffed, his ears red as a mushroom top as they both stepped over to where the hole was and she snickered, trying her best to ignore the wings hammering away at her ribcage when he said that.
“Duly noted, Mr Reid,” She said, watching him lineup his next shot with a smirk, and she wondered just where exactly they would go on their first date. Her smile only got wider, a girlish glee to her eyes. “So, theoretically, where were you thinking of taking me?”
“Theoretically,” He said, lining up his shot, the ball only a small tap away from the hole, his feet spreading a little wider so he could lean down to putt the pink sphere, “I was thinking of going to that book cafe out in Delaware, the one where they have a bunch of drinks inspired by different authors. We could play a game I used to with my mom, where we choose a book for each other we think the other would like,” He took the shot, his ball rolling into the cavity without much effort as she watched him meticulously, her entire body softening with his sentiment right down to her marrow, “And then I was going to say we build a sofa fort in the living room and watch whatever movie you like, maybe get some popcorn on the way home,”
He looked up at her, and almost reeled back in surprise to see her looking at him with something so vastly emotional in her eyes, like he’d offered her a winning lottery ticket or a chance to go back in time in a flying police box, her expression a complete window into her soul because she’d never been too good at hiding how she felt when she was around him.
Spencer opened his mouth to speak again, only for their earpieces to jump to life, Hotch’s voice out of breath as he reported down their ear.
“We have the UnSub, we caught him trying to sneak into your car like we profiled.” He said, and she knew his brow was creased without even having to see his face, “We’re taking him in for questioning now, you kids wrap up and head to the station,”
Bugsy hummed in confirmation, fighting the disappointment that their show was over, and they’d have to go back to their usual act of pretending there wasn’t three little words hanging over both their heads, gnawing at the back of their brains.
Clearing her throat, she set up her shot ready to finish their game, “Well, theoretically speaking, when you’re ready to ask me on that date, I’m there,”
He smiled to himself, perhaps ready to flirt with her just a little more before they went back to being Bugsy and Spence, not Mr and Mrs Reid, when she hit the golf ball just the tiniest bit too vigorously. It rolled straight past the hole, bouncing off the wall and heading further away from the end than when she’d started, and she groaned in frustration.
“How are you so terrible at this-” Spencer burst out laughing as she stomped over to the lilac ball, lining up another shot with a grumpy expression.
“Not another word, Lover boy,”
2. The one with an old flame.
“I wonder what Hotch wants,” She mused, her head resting on the arm of the seat, her eyes shut for the duration of the flight. Rossi had called them into the office startlingly early for a Friday, the entire team sleepy eyed and annoyed as they’d strolled onto the sixth floor.
Yet the minute that they’d heard Hotch needed them, they’d soon perked up in interest, seeing as it was Aaron’s only appointed week off to see Beth in New York, and they had quickly jumped in to help with whatever it was he needed.
“Penelope’s still waiting for NYPD to send her the autopsy reports for the previous victims,” Rossi said, him, Strauss, JJ and Alex playing a few rounds of Shithead with a peeling deck of cards because for once they had no paperwork to be looking over while they travelled. Bugsy had laid on the couch, the one Spencer usually commandeered, except this time he let her take the comfy seat, instead letting her legs drape over his lap as he read from his book, another two sat next to him for when he finished that one.
“He sounded panicked. DEA thinks we might have a bad batch of something making its way through the club scene causing the deaths,” Strauss added, putting down two sets of three on top of JJ’s ace, “Aaron’s brother just happened to have been caught in the crossfire,”
“Men are almost twice as likely to die from drug overdoses than women, just last year there were forty-one thousand, five hundred and two cases.” Spencer said without lifting his head from his pages, his thumb caressing over Bugsy’s ankle bone, “The fact that the majority of the victims are women suggests it’s more than likely is a date rape drug that has been laced since they tend to be targeted towards female victims more often than males.”
“Ecstasy can be made in pill, powder or liquid form so it really wouldn’t be too difficult to slip it into someone’s drink,” The girl mused, her eyes squeezed shut tightly as she attempted to catch up on another half hour of sleep, “Or to convince people the drug they’re taking willingly is safe,”
“Even regular users might not know they're being dosed until it's too late,” JJ agreed, setting down a seven on top of Rossi’s two fives.
“What about the two victims who were clean, Linda Heying and Eric Sullivan’s family claimed they never touched the stuff,” Alex questioned, as Morgan looked over the list of victims that they had been able to track down, despite the majority of the information waiting for them at New York.
“Either the victims are good at hiding the truth or the UnSub is killing for another reason,” David said with a sigh, as Strauss set down the six of clubs, “We should take a closer look, see how they’re connected,”
“Well for now, let the princess get her beauty sleep,” Bugsy said, snuggling into the throw pillow Spencer had passed her as they’d sat down, “I’m feeling weird today,”
His head ripped from his book at that, the rest of the team going back to playing their cards, his hand skirting up to her calf to stroke her leg gently, “You okay?”
She huffed, “Yeah, Penelope said it's because my Mercury is in Retrograde or something, I don’t know. I just feel strange,” She grumbled, resting a hand over her stomach, “Probably just coming on my period early,”
He frowned, moving her legs off his lap and standing up. Before she could ask where he was going, he stepped to the opposite end of the couch, picking her head up gently by the crook of her neck and sitting back down, resting her back onto his lap.
His fingers were in her hair before she could say anything, scratching gently at her scalp the way he knew she turned to putty for, and she smiled, swearing blind she’d be purring if she could.
“We’ll get you some breakfast when we land,” He murmured, and she snuggled her cheek into his thigh, his slender fingers massaging her skin kindly.
“Thankyou, Spence,” She whispered back, all but slurring her words as sleep caught right back up to her, and before long she was drooling on his black trousers, the sight of it making him smile sweetly to himself.
And it was for a moment like that he wondered what exact feeling he was waiting for in the first place.
–
“Any updates?” Bugsy asked, as they entered the New York Police Department and saw Hotch waiting for them, his arms crossed in a casual shirt and jeans, clearly having had no intention of working this week, “How’s your brother?”
“A little shaken but then he never exactly made the best choices in life,” Hotch huffed, putting a hand on her back as she leaned in to give him a small hug because he seemed particularly stressed, “Emily always said you were bad, I’d take you over him any day,”
“Thanks,” She murmured into his shoulder, with a frown, “I think?”
He smiled, amused the way she had a knack for, though the worry in his mahogany eyes didn’t budge, and Spencer was all but a step behind her as the team filed into the building.
“You guys have coffee?” Spencer asked, his eyes subconsciously trailing after Bugsy as she moved to talk to one of the detectives, and Hotch nodded, pointing him over to the small kitchenette at the back of the precinct.
“Over there, I’ll get you guys set up with the lab reports now that you’re here. Autopsies came back for Linda and Eric,” Hotch said, and Spencer murmured in agreement, heading straight for the instant coffee and creamer, worrying about the girl who was already nose deep in a file by the time the machine had poured the first cup.
He wondered whether there were any pharmacies nearby for anti-sickness tablets, or if she needed a heavy dose of water and sleep instead of the caffeine goodness he was whipping up for her, but then he knew she’d rather shrivell into a ball in the precinct bathroom than ask for a day off, would rather suffer in proud silence than make herself look weak.
Bugsy remembered it happening in choppy intervals. One minute she was heading up the steps towards where Spencer stood patiently by the coffee machine, something already popping up as a point of interest in her overworked brain. Her head was down, muttering to herself the points of the victimology that conflicted with one another, when she felt herself slam right into a solid body, and she jumped back, steadying herself with an embarrassed expression.
“Oh my god, I’m so, so sorry, I wasn’t watching where I was-” Her eyes snapped up to see a messy blonde sweep of hair, wide blue eyes she’d known ten years ago and a thick beard that happened to be the only thing new about him. Her gaze locked onto him, and she felt a fury she’d not thought about in over a decade rile up inside her, “Sean?”
“Bugsy,” He breathed, the horror sweeping over his expression, a hand shooting up to slick his hair back nervously, “What are you- how are you-”
She shoved him back with two firm hands, tossing the file onto the table beside her, and shoving at his chest again, his own hands coming up to defend himself lightly even though his expression read nothing but guilt.
“Woah, woah, let’s just talk about this, I was just a dumb kid-”
“You left me, Sean. You left me in a foreign country alone with no boarding pass, no cell phone,” She snarled, and the sound of her tone rising turned a few heads, Spencer all but ditching the spoon into the sink when he saw her going nose to nose with some guy who looked purely terrified, “Your dumbass friends spent all my money on hookers, I’d still be in Italy if it wasn’t for the fact you graciously decided not to steal my bank card-”
She shoved him again in between her growls, and it wasn’t until two hands came up to stop her did she realise Derek and Spencer had all but appeared behind her, the former’s arms wrapping around her waist to draw her back.
“Woah, woah, talk to me, pretty girl. What’s with the aggression?” Derek asked, his eyes wide with concern as he looked between the youngest agent and their suspect. It seemed her volume had reached the other side of the room where Hotch had been talking with Strauss and Alex, and Spencer could practically see the steam coming out his ears as he whipped around to their trio.
He could already hear the lecture coming, and the thought of it made him gulp.
“This is Sean,” She spat, and Derek and Spencer’s head snapped to the blonde man who looked like he wanted the ground to swallow him whole, “You know, the asshole that ditched me on another continent and stole my money,”
“I didn’t mean to steal your money, I thought you had it in your purse, I-I didn’t think to check before we left the hotel room,” He tried to interject, though the girl's glare intensified, unaware her boss's shoes were now thundering across the steps.
“Where you left me to miss the flight I paid for, you inconsiderate prick-”
“You told me to leave you alone! You said you were sick of us waking you up-”
“I meant playing your music too loud, dumbass-”
“Well sorry, last time I checked I’m not a mind reader, Bugsy-”
“What in God’s name is going on here?” Hotch’s voice was a crack of lightning through the precinct, and the two of them shut up immediately, like two school children caught squabbling in the halls, Sean turning to his older brother with an exasperated expression.
“Aaron, I swear, I don’t know what she’s doing here,” Sean pleaded, and Derek, Spencer and Bugsy turned to their boss in unison with bewildered faces. Hotch looked back at them, his own anger dissolving into utter, raw confusion.
“Do you two know each other?” Hotch, Aaron, asked the girl in the middle, the other men all but positioned as bodyguards in the midst of their little spat, and he saw her cheeks hot with anger deflating as she drew a breath to answer.
“Unfortunately,” She spat, scrutinising the familiar tone Sean had used when he’d said Aaron’s name, “Do you two know each other?”
“He’s my brother,” The Hotchner’s replied in unison, their tone almost identical and she felt stupid for not seeing it sooner.
Bugsy felt her face drop, her eyes scanning between them for any signs of a lie, except all she found were the tiny details of their face that seemed to half match. Like their cheekbones, and the crease between their brows, the shape of their lips.
Her face blanked, gobsmacked silence passing between the five of them as she digested exactly what that statement ment.
Sean, her Sean, the Sean she’d been sleeping with on and off for six months straight, who used to make her tea way too milky and without sugar the way she hated it, but would bring it to her in bed and stroke her back when they were finished, the Sean who once tried to ask her to be his girlfriend when he was stoned and she’d laughed at him and snatched the blunt away, told him to get a hold of himself because that was the exact opposite of how friends with benefits worked.
Sean, who she had trusted to keep her safe, who’d ditched her naked in a hotel room in a foreign country and made her feel stupid for ever believing a word a man said.
She stuttered for a response, a wide eyes mix of terror and confusion and repulsion washing over her in stages.
“I need-” She swallowed thickly, her mouth drier than sandpaper, gently pushing Derek’s arm from around her waist, “I think I need a walk- a walk sounds good- yeah-”
Rossi paced over to the five of them, his phone clutched tightly in his hands. He almost paused at the wall of awkward tension around the group, each participant seeming stuck for the right thing to say, the entire situation so bizarre that Spencer debated faking a migraine to get him and her out of the room for some air.
“Hotch,” Both of the men turned to look at him, and the sight of it made Bugsy shudder, feeling almost completely out of her own body at the thought of her nude body on top of Sean’s because now all she could see was Aaron in his place, “Six new bodies found in a nightclub-”
“I’ll go!” She jumped, all but bolting past the men, trying her hardest not to touch either of them because her skin crawled with a sickening uncanny valley looking between the brothers, “I’ll go inspect the crime scene,”
And no one stopped her, because they’d seen her be all manner of strange before, but never quite like that. Aaron nodded his head to Morgan, and the man took it as a sign to follow her. He quickly obeyed, hot on the girl's heels as she kept her head down with an odd, freaked out expression on her face like she was about to throw up and scream at the same time.
Which left Sean alone as Spencer and Aaron whirled around on him, similar looks of annoyance on their face as the younger agent looked the man head to toe.
He was handsome, handsome in a rugged way like he was used to bar fights and late nights and drinking until three am with pretty ladies like her. He was built wide like Aaron, his shoulders broad and muscles stocky, a few tattoos dotted around his arms that only added to his rough looking appeal, and Spencer wondered if she’d always liked the bad boys, wondered if he was an outlier in her dating history.
Except they weren’t dating, not yet at least.
“So I take it she’s one of your agents,” Sean said, wringing his hands together in anxiety as the two taller men looked down at him, equally unimpressed.
Though, Spencer hated to admit, his was more green faced jealousy than anything else.
“Agent Prentiss is one of the best,” Reid corrected, his tone cold and stern, and Sean visibly shrunk in on himself, looking to his big brother for help, only he found Aaron was just as annoyed, glaring down at him.
“You have some more explaining to do, Sean,” His brother snapped, and the two men diverted him into one of the interrogation rooms, Spencer’s jaw clenched so hard he felt his temples ache, “Or next time I’m not stopping her from handing your ass to you, and believe me when I say you’ll wish you’d told me sooner,”
Sean gulped, all too aware of the way eighteen year old Bugsy had never backed down from a fight, when men twice her age shoved her in clubs or girls bitched at her for dancing too close to their boyfriends. He didn’t imagine she was any different at twenty eight, except this time she was trained and licensed to handle a gun.
The door slammed behind them, and Aaron pushed his little brother into the seat with a firm hand, the sight of his unit chief just as protective over her as he was making Spencer bite back glee. The image of Bugsy laying into the guy was burned into his memory, eidetic or not, and it seemed to be the only thing that stopped him blowing his top as Sean opened his mouth to explain what had happened between him and the younger Prentiss woman.
–
“What did you do, Thane?” Sean’s voice crackled over the feed, the wire on his chest brushing against his shirt as he paced in the wine cellar. Aaron, Morgan, Spencer and Bugsy sat in the van, listening to the conversation through shared headphones, Spencer and Bugsy’s heads pressed together as they followed the voices as best as they could, waiting for a confession or anything they could tie to the victims' gory deaths.
“I spiked the wine, you idiot,” Sean’s boss, Thane, snapped, his breathing laboured and Bugsy took a shot in the dark to say he was pacing, worrying now that there was concrete evidence linking his date rape drug to the deaths of atleast nine people so far, “Oh, God. Oh, god, Jim is going to kill me.”
“Why the hell would you do that?” Sean seethed, his patience wearing thin as the man all but confessed to killing his girlfriend.
“For a laugh, I thought it was X. Girl’s love that crap,” Thane replied, his voice louder as Sean stepped closer to him, and she exchanged a look with Aaron.
“Yeah, but it wasn’t X, was it?” The younger Hotchner barked, and she quickly let go of the headphones to grab a kevlar and her gun.
“He’s going off track, Aaron, he’d not going to keep his cool much longer,” She said, and Spencer’s eyes trailed up to her face, her brow furrowed as Aaron moved to slip his own bulletproof over his head, adjusting the straps at his side.
“Tell SWAT to stand by, we’re going in to support, but we may need back up,” Aaron ordered, unholstering his gun and switching the trigger off safety, “You two stay here and see if Thane says any more about the wine,”
She drew her gun to her side just as he did, and Spencer made a move to stop her, even just to check where her head was at because he knew she had this tendency of throwing herself in harms way and asking questions later. He selfishly worried what that upset look in her eyes meant, like she loathed that Sean was in danger as much as she loathed him.
But he wasn’t quite fast enough, because by the time he’d reached a hand out for hers to ask if she was feeling alright, she had slid the door to the van open, hopping out onto the tarmac as Aaron shadowed her.
And something ugly and envious reared its head in Spencer’s gut as the doors slammed, so much so that his jaw feathered and he took a deep breath out, his lips pressing into a thin line.
The two agents moved as one, their footsteps pounding over the linoleum floor of the night club. They swept to the back of the building, where the door to the stock room was, and it became apparent almost immediately from the grunting and shuffling the other side of the door that the two men were much closer to brawling than they’d guessed.
“FBI, drop your weapon!” Bugsy called, bracing herself as she felt Aaron’s domineering figure at her shoulder. She raised her leg to kick the door in, and it swung on its hinges, smacking into the rack of beer. They caught the two men in the middle of a fist fight, Sean with a split lip, Thane with a gash on his forehead, his head locked under the younger man’s arm with a deathly grip.
She holstered her gun, seeing that neither of them were carrying, and moved forward to break the two of them up.
“Alright, Sean- Sean, that’s enough,” She scolded, her fingers prying his muscled arm off his boss’s trachea, and Sean took a second to realise it was disappointment in her face, not the white hot anger it had been not even a few hours before, before he let the man go, some colour returning to his bluing lips.
“He killed Linda,” The blonde Hotchner said softly, and something wavered in her eyes, something close to pity, and she nodded at him while biting her cheek hard. Aaron holstered his gun, surging forward to grab Thane with rough hands as he fought against the taller man’s grip. “She was sober, she’d gotten clean and he killed her,”
“I know,” Bugsy said lamentingly, and against her better judgement she patted his shoulder kindly, more kindly than he probably deserved, and the thought of it made Sean’s baby blue eyes turn away in sorrow.
Before she could say anything else, Thane wretched his hand out of Hotch’s grip, grabbing for the sharp box cutter and lunging right for Bugsy where she turned away from him.
Sean’s expression morphed into fear for a moment, grabbing for her to yank her out of reach, but it was too late. She felt the slash across the back of her arm, where her kevlar couldn’t cover up, and she yawped in pain the way a dog sounds when its tail gets crushed. Turning towards the source of the danger, Sean’s hand weaved around her waist to tug her backwards as Aaron scrambled to grab the suspect.
Thane’s hand gripped the blade and slashed down again, across her cheek and only inches away from her eye, her hands too late to grab his wrists to stop his advances. By the time he drew back to swipe for her again Aaron had already tackled him to the ground, pinning him to the wine soaked floor and fumbling for his cuffs.
“We have an agent injured and needing medical, repeat, medical unit required on scene,” Spencer was out of his seat before Hotch could even finish his sentence, forgoing his own vest as he darted from the van, his heart racing at the sound of the scuffle echoing through Sean’s wire, and he felt his chest seizing at just what kind of a state she’d be in when he saw her.
She was the only other agent on the scene. That call had to be made for her, the voice in his gut told him, but the twisted part of him hoped that it was someone else, anyone else, that had gotten hurt, because he might just throw a punch of his own at Thane or Sean or maybe even both of them if she had so much as a single hair misplaced.
Spencer had only just about reached the bar area when the four of them emerged from the stock room, Thane in cuffs, looking rattled and aggravated. Spencer let himself take a long, hard look at the man with a glare that soon made him cower away, though he found little luck elsewhere as Hotch’s hands gripped him so tight Spencer thought he might be trying to strangle him through his arms.
But that wasn’t who he was looking for. And there, trailing behind his unit chief sheepishly, with Sean’s hand on her back as he watched her carefully, his eyes worriedly darting over her skin when he saw how fast the blood was pouring from the laceration on the apple of her cheek, was Bugsy. Her expression was shaken, no doubt from nearly having her corneas slashed open had Sean not pulled her away even a second earlier, and she seemed in some sort of a daze, until she spotted the sweater vest she’d shoved in the wash about a hundred times, and two supple hands reached for her shoulders, snapping her attention out of her head.
“Are you okay?” Spencer asked, all but ignoring Sean as the man went to flag down medical, his own appearance dishevelled and stunned, and it irked Spencer something childish when her head snapped to the blonde, watching him head for the paramedics.
“I’m okay, Spence, it’s just a superficial wound,” She said as a reflex, meeting his eyes finally. But she simpered when she saw just how terrified he seemed, a warm palm raising to cup his face affectionately, “He just nicked the skin, that’s all. It’s not as bad as it looks,”
Which wasn’t exactly a lie. Her face stung like a bitch, but the feeling of her cheek dribbling with the ichor was worse than the actual pain, and made her feel queasy more than anything.
He went to say something else, or perhaps even gently caress the clean side of her face with his own loving gesture, but he was quickly interrupted by the medical team all but grabbing Bugsy out of his grip and assessing her themselves.
“It’s probably best if you come take a seat, Agent Prentiss,” The woman said, pointing to where Sean sat on the back of the ambulance getting his nose checked over, “We’ll be over with some stitches and glue,”
And Spencer made a move to follow the two of them, only to be stopped by Hotch, who called his name with that direct tone he took when he was worried.
“Reid, I need you and Morgan to interview Thane about where he got the drugs he used to spike the wine,” Aaron ordered, even though he seemed to watch the girl go just as bothered as the younger agent, and Spencer seemed conflicted between rebelling against his boss’s instructions or keeping to his track record of following them to a tea.
He paused for a second, his gaze flicking to the girl who sat with her old flame, Sean’s eyes roving over her head to toe worriedly, and he looked back to Aaron, “But-”
“Now, Reid. She’s going to be fine.”
And Spencer was forced to listen, even if his face burned with annoyance at the sight of the man watching her so tentatively.
–
“Would you quit fidgeting, the medic said it was a surface wound,” Bugsy snipped, feeling the ocean hues burning a hole into the side of her head. She dusted her knees off of invisible dirt, braving a look up at her ex-fling where she was met with a wall of guilt.
And it was like for a split second she remembered all the mornings she’d wake up to him twirling the tips of her hair between his fingers, or when he’d shake his head whenever he���d look over her shoulder at her lab reports she’d be writing and make a passing comment on how a hot girl like her could have brains and looks.
Or how he could be kind to her, genuinely sweet when he wanted to be, when they toed a weird line between friends with benefits and something a little more, because at his core she knew he was a good guy, he was just incredibly dumb for an eighteen year old.
“Listen, Bug,” Sean sighed, looking down at the ground where they were perched on the back on the ambulance, Bugsy’s face stitched up so tight she hoped it wouldn’t scar very deeply, “I really am sorry for how I treated you,”
His voice shook with something remorseful, and she let her eyes cast over his face that had grown even more handsome in the ten years since she saw him. With the good memories came the bad ones in equal measure, and the arguments over stupid shit like leaving cupboard doors open and playing music late at night and the time he forgot to feed her gerbil for two days when she was out of town washed back to shore from the deepest crevices of her mind.
She’d been with men after him, had flings and meaningless kisses with boys who’d treated her much less kindly than he had. And when she thought about it, the anger and resentment she’d felt when she thought about those few days she spent lost in Italy stemmed from the fact she’d been forced to confront what she’d always feared since she was little.
That Bugsy was alone in the world, forgettable, someone you could leave behind and sleep soundly.
But when she thought of that now, the first face she pictured was Spencer, and how he would tell her to knock it off if she ever said that out loud, because he would never leave her, in a foreign country or even at a gas station if she needed to get fuel. He always walked up to the pump with her because he knew exactly how many women got kidnapped in places like that every year, he'd told her so already.
And she knew the person she was when she could have loved Sean, the person who was reminded just how easy it was to leave her behind, was gone. In its place was the girl who Spencer loved like it was as easy as breathing. And the thought of it made her feel just that little bit less bitter towards the blonde man who fiddled with his rough, bloodied hands.
“I was a dumb kid, I did a lot of things that I’m not proud of,” He swallowed heavily, his frown looking strikingly similar to Aaron's as he did, but she would never remind him, “But I did always wonder whether I’d see your name in the news curing some disease I could never pronounce or being the first person to learn like every single language there is,” He smiled sadly, and the old her knew him just well enough to know he was being honest, because his nose turned red whenever he lied.
The thought of it made her lips curve up, despite how annoyed she’d been to see him again, and there was something bashful about the way the slid a hand into his to give it a quick squeeze.
“We were eighteen, Sean. No one has themselves figured out at eighteen,” She said earnestly, her head dipping to meet his ashamed gaze.
He shook his head, “You deserved so much better than I could ever give you, we both knew that,” He pulled his hand away, and her expression contorted into confusion, “It’s probably why you're with that doctor, right? Aaron said he’s like a whizz kid,”
“He’s not-We’re-” She sighed, running a hand over where the EMTs had stitched the gash on the back of her arm, “It’s complicated,”
“Complicated like we were complicated?” He asked, her fingertip tracing every single nook where they had looped the suture through her skin.
She smiled to herself and looked over at him, something weighty like closure passing between the two of him as he watched her take his tired face in, knowing they were nothing more than just passing ships in the night now.
“You meant something to me once, Sean, no matter how much we drove each other up the wall,” She snickered, and something like an exhausted chuckle matched her, “But it’s different with him. It’s like everything I do means something to the world when I’m with him, you know?”
Sean took in the wistful look in her eyes, the girl he’d known who had only gotten stronger, scrappier, wittier with age, and he thought he’d be lucky to ever get someone like her again.
“I hope I do,” He said, and she knocked her shoulder into his to dispel the bad memories of two teenagers figuring out what feelings and kisses and sex meant in the messiest of ways.
“Do me a favour?” Sean hummed at her, and she looked surprisingly like herself again when she smiled at him wryly, “Call Aaron more. It’s difficult being the only disappointment child in his life,”
Sean barked a laugh at her words, and she smiled into her lap. Who’d have thought closure would be so healing.
–
She felt eyes on her even as she tried to nap on the jet, having returned back to their original position on the couch, her head on Spencer’s lap. She had a sixth sense to who it would be, the Spider Sense they’d been calling it despite the fact Spencer tried to tell her it was mere intuition, she glanced up to where something melancholic swirled inside his forest gaze, already watching over her despite his book being open in his lap.
She hadn’t even opened her mouth to speak before his obscenely large hand had sneaked under her jawline, tilting her face up so he could take a better look at the messy cut.
“Have they given you anything for the pain?” Spencer said quietly, because the other’s were already trying to sleep, and she blanked for a moment, before her hand came up to snake around his wrist gently.
“They gave me Naproxen for two days. Spence, I’m fine, really,”
His teeth ground together, his other hand placing his book down beside him and moving to smooth the back of her hair, the sealed wound staring daggers at him as his eyes darted over the rest of her face, just to be sure they hadn’t missed anything.
He nodded to himself, as if to conclude his consultation and his thumb stroked down the curve of her jaw, his head whipping up to quickly make sure no one else was watching.
“What, uh,” Spencer cleared his throat nervously, her expectant eyes looking up at him, “What were you and Sean talking about?”
Her brow quirked in confusion, and it wasn’t until she felt his delicate strokes hesitate that she realised he seemed on edge, “Why?”
“N-No reason, I just was wondering, you looked like you were-” He coughed again, even though there was nothing tickling his windpipe, nothing except embarrassment, because he’d never thought he’d be the envious type.
He braved a look at her again, worried she would be annoyed with his crass and intrusive questions, only to see her smiling at him wickedly.
“We were what?” She asked, and Spencer went so quiet he could have heard a mouse knitting if he tried, his cheeks flushing with raspberry red heat, “Are you jealous, Spencer?”
He shook his head fast, unable to formulate anything that wasn’t a stammer, and she sat up in her seat, throwing her legs onto the ground so she could scooch up into his side.
“Because if you were, you know I’d find that wildly attractive right?” She murmured, his cheeks burning an even hotter shade, the sight of it all but a bone to a hound to Bugsy who loved teasing him. She snickered, leaning in close to his vermillion ear, and leaving a tiny kiss on his clenched jaw, “Don’t worry, Wonder Boy. He knows I’m all yours,”
3. The one with the day of the dead.
“Thankyou, thankyou, my helpful little mice,” Penelope chirped as the three of them stepped into her apartment, their arms filled with shopping bags, “Set them down on the counter, I’ll unpack them later,”
“Wow,” Bugsy gawped at the altar stood in the corner of the woman’s living room, an assortment of sweets and tissue paper flowers decorating the layers, “Oh it’s so pretty, they’re going to love it. We spent a Summer in Mexico when Mom was having talks with their President, but we moved out before October rolled around so I never got to see a Día de los Muertos,”
Penny smiled, though she quickly looked around the rest of her apartment that had yet to be decorated, “There’s still a lot to do before the party next week and,” She huffed, the bags taking up the entirety of her kitchen table as Bugsy frowned at her, “I’m scared. I’ve never had the whole team here before,”
“Relax, Pen, I can help you set up,” The younger woman reassured, helping unload the groceries that needed to go in the fridge as Spencer helped her carry the larger items.
Penelope perked up watching her guests move towards the cooler, a devilish smirk twitching at her lips, “Hey, while you guys are there, can you see if I have enough hot sauce for the party?”
“Sure,” They replied in synchrony, Bugsy putting the milk and soda in the side drawers as Spencer shelved away some of the meat. They both looked at the top row, where some kind of jalapeno salsa was resting next to a jar of fake eyeballs, and the flicked a casual glance at the woman who was pouring vials of red viscous liquid made to look like blood down her cheeks for a Penelope version of a practical joke.
Bugsy blinked once, not quite surprised as she would have thought seeing Penelope attempting to scare them with something they’d seen a thousand times over for real.
“Now, are the eyeballs marinating in anything spicy or is it just like a pickled onion type of thing because all you seem to have is the jalapeno sauce,” She said, and Penelope deflated at her bored tone, looking at the two agents in discontent.
“You guys didn’t even flinch,” She said sadly, her dark eyes flicking between them, “My poor babies, what has the world done to you?”
Bugsy smiled, shutting the fridge door and handing the bubbly woman a leaf of tissue paper.
“JJ’s right, I told her I wanted to go scary this Halloween and she just laughed at me, and said that I don’t have a scary side,” Penelope whined, and Bugsy giggled.
“Sorry, babygirl, you wouldn’t be Penelope Garcia if you were capable of scary,” She teased, waltzing around the kitchen to put away the rest of the shopping, even as the woman tried to shoo her away from helping, “I’ve seen puppies scarier than you, Pen,”
“If it helps, you probably do,” Spencer interjected, helping Bugsy shelve something on one of the higher cabinets, his long arms weaselling over her own as he reached past her, “The building blocks of the human personality are complex, varied and multi-faceted. It’s essential to one’s mental health to want to express these hidden personalities and it’s just a fact of nature that everybody has one,”
“Everybody?” Penelope asked, ignoring the way the two of them bumbled around her kitchen, handing things between one another the way she imagined them putting away the groceries in their own kitchen, like they worked just as well in the home as they did in the field. Dare she say it, like a couple who had been married and knew each other's routines for years. “Even the two of you?”
“Oh, absolutely, yeah,” Spencer agreed, and Bugsy flicked a smirk up at him as Pen turned to her expectantly.
"I mean, you can't tell me Bitch-Slapping our boss or fist fighting with my sister was exactly usual behaviour for me," She pointed out, and the two of them nodded in agreement, although they wouldn't have exactly called it out of character for her.
“Okay, okay, I want to see it. I want to see Dr Spencer Reid’s hidden personality,” Penelope said, a smile growing as thick and fast as a weed when he seemed thrown off by her request, and it only took one look at the younger Prentiss to know she wanted front row just as badly.
“R-right here? Like right now you want to see it?” He stammered, all too aware of Bugsy’s amused lashes batting up at him, the innocent expression she knew made it difficult for him to say no to, and he wondered for a second if she understood the exact amount of control she had over him when she wanted to.
“I wanna see this hidden personality, pretty boy,” She smiled with her teeth, and he felt his hands turn jittery in embarrassment.
“Okay, alright,” Spencer shook his arms out, clearing his throat with a growling sort of husk that made her raise her brows, and in a single blink he’d locked stern eyes with her, pointing to her with a completely un-Spencer-like stance; completely rose to his full height, confident and domineering, “I know what you’re thinking,”
She really hoped he didn’t. Because what she was really thinking was just how hot he sounded with that deep sort of timbre, that cocksure attitude.
“You’re thinking ‘Did that guy just fire five shots or did that guy just fire six shots?’” He went on, his tone deadly serious, as her lips parted in surprise, and what had started out as a game turned into some wildly lewd thoughts fast, “You’re going to have to ask yourself a question; Do you feel lucky, pun-k,”
She swallowed haughtily, as he squeezed his eyes shut and when he looked at her again he was entirely puppy like the way he usually looked, none the wiser to the way her stomach had coiled in want.
“That was Clint Eastwood from Dirty Harry,” He explained, looking to Penelope because he had no idea what that strange look on Bugsy’s face was, only to see his techy friend just as in awe, “I mean I know it’s not as effective as my dominant personality, but I really think it’s there-”
Penelope’s phone sprung to life with a call from Hotch and she quickly spluttered an excuse that they needed to leave right away, grabbing for her keys and heading for the door.
Spencer made a move to follow her, only to feel a hand grab his shirt and turn him right back around, Bugsy still staring at him with that look in her eye, like she’d had too much caffeine or been told there was a million dollars cash waiting for them at home.
“Is everything okay-”
“Is Clint Eastwood strictly a party trick or would I be able to have him on request, maybe?” She said, her hands oddly tight as they grabbed at his soft stomach, and it was like he heard the click in his brain when he realised what she meant.
“R-request, I guess,” He stumbled for composure, finding his footing when he felt her palms were clammy, “You got a thing for cops?”
“Just the one, I guess,” She said with a clenched jaw, and he laughed though it sounded more like a choke, as she darted right behind Penelope to avoid suspicion.
–
By the time the party rolled around, Penelope had decked her apartment out to the nines, marigolds and tissue garlands and lights and food of all sorts spread out across the altar, a mix of alcohol and juices available in pitchers, because Penelope was nothing if not a people pleaser.
The doorbell rang right as Alex and Bugsy poured themselves some margarita, complete with the eyeball ice cubes ofcourse, and Penelope fussed in her beautiful dress, muttering under her breath the way she did when she was nervous.
“What, what, what,” She murmured, her blonde curls bouncing with her steps as she reached for the door, “I thought you said you couldn’t come!”
Bugsy’s head whipped to the door, Aaron looking much more casual than they were used to seeing him as he entered the decorated home, his colleagues all dressed smartly and in some shade of black.
“Jack got a last minute sleepover invitation so I hope it’s okay,” He said, a bottle of rosé in his hand he’d brought as a contribution.
“Ofcourse, ofcourse,” Penelope sang, leading him over to the altar where everyone stood with their offerings, sipping on their glasses of liquor, “Okay, everybody, I guess it’s time to start, here you go sir,”
She handed him a freshly poured glass of wine, chilled courtesy of the eyeball, and Aaron thanked her kindly, taking a generous sip to catch up with the others.
“I want to thank everybody for doing this with me, and our altar’s burning, and I just feel so blessed to have you all here,” Penelope started with a grateful smile on her painted lips, a handful of old photos between her fingertips, “I will start, um, this is my mom and dad,” She said, nostalgia idling her tone as she gently placed down a worn picture of a teen couple holding a beautiful, blonde girl, eyes bigger than moons and full of curiosity, just how Bugsy would have imagined Penny as a baby, “I miss them. And this is my cat, Simba with his usual bowl of soda pop. He was a weird cat,”
The team chuckled, looking at the enormous ginger Tom that lapped at the bubbly liquid. Bugsy took a sip of her drink as JJ took a step forward with a smile, her own photo in hand.
“This is my sister, Roselyn. Ros.” JJ said, placing down a photo of a fifteen year old with identical eyes and nose to her, sitting it next to a small statue of the eiffel tower, “She always dreamed she’d live is Paris so um,” She swallowed, looking at her sister laying in the grass of their childhood home, something girlish in her gaze, “It didn’t happen but I thought this would bring her some happiness,”
They took it in turns bringing their offerings and pictures: David bringing some Cubs tickets for a soldier he had lost in Vietnam, Alex bringing a crossword for her mother, Spencer sliding down a picture of Maeve silently, alongside a cut out picture of Nikola Tesla, Morgan bringing his father, Hitch putting down the picture of Haley he kept in his wallet.
Which left them all to turn to the youngest agent, who seemed flustered.
“So, I fortunately have not lost anyone properly thus far, so bare with me here guys,” She said fishing out an old scrapbook photo of her as a seven year old, a small orange snake wrapped around the length of her arm, twenty two year old Emily standing right behind her, the pair of them with beaming smiles as the snake seemingly poked its tongue out for the camera.
Penelope clutched her chest in horror, “Is that a-”
“This is Tigger, the corn snake Emily gave to me when she left home,” She explained, and Spencer couldn’t help but smile at the million dollar grin she had in the photo, three of her front teeth missing sweetly, “I had him until I was about twelve before he kicked the serpent bucket, but he was cute for a slithery little guy,”
She drew another photo, an ultrasound showing two tiny embryos and she put it beside the picture of Tigger, and the group drew a shared breath.
“Bug, I never knew you were…” Spencer started, his stomach flipping when he saw the outline of the foetuses, only for the girl’s eyes to widen.
“No! No, it’s not like that, this is um,” She cleared her throat awkwardly, scratching the back of her hand with a guilty look, “This is the twin I absorbed in the womb,” She said, and she felt the rest of her team gawking at her without having to look, “I guess I’d like to say, uh, I’m sorry pal. It was nice while it lasted, I hope you can forgive me,”
“You’re being serious?” Morgan asked, gawping at the girl, right as Hotch broke out into disbelieving snickers, probably spurred on by the wine, and Alex was quick to join him, her hand over her mouth.
Bugsy turned to him with a ‘duh’ kind of look on her face, “Oh, 100% serious, yeah,”
“Is that why you’re a little…” Rossi started, only he found himself stuck for words when she looked at him betrayed.
“A little, what?” She asked, looking to JJ who cracked into a chuckle, putting her head in her palm.
“What he means is you have a big personality,” Alex said, wrapping an arm around the girl’s shoulder and giving her a motherly squeeze, hoping they hadn’t offended her, “And we wouldn’t change it for the world,”
“I should hope so, she got a double helping.” Morgan cackled, and Bugsy smacked his arm with a smile.
“Every time I think I know everything about you, you come out with something new,” Penelope said, her own snickering laugh meeting the girl’s ears, “You’re like Jason Bourne,”
“God help us if there had been two of you, Prentiss,” David added, patting the girl on the head as they laughed, and Penelope raised a toast to their altar, the rest of the team doing the same before they sipped out their cups and allowed themselves to enjoy the rest of the party.
–
“Oh, I have something for you!” Bugsy said, springing to her feet and almost tripping over Sergio who had curled up by her legs.
She’d cut herself off after her third, and by the time midnight rolled around she’d almost completely sobered up enough to the point her and Alex had been playing hangman except with only Old English words.
Her and Spencer had gotten home twenty minutes later, the two of them exhausted from an evening well spent, the melancholy happiness in the room draining them to the point Bugsy had immediately changed into her pyjamas when she got into the house.
Her pyjamas being Spencer’s boxers and one of his shirts since he’d inadvertently been hiding all of the underwear-top combinations she’d gotten from other flings that she’d brought when she moved into his.
“You didn’t have to get me anything,” He said earnestly, and she simply waved his humble attitude off, the two of them sat on the sofa in their nightwear, flicking through the late night TV.
He smiled, watching her bustle into her room and root around her closet, before she emerged with a terracotta coloured pot of lilac flowers, whirling on her heel to head for him.
“What’s this?” Spencer asked, standing to meet her and Bugsy simpered, because she’d felt silly for buying them in the first place. Perhaps it was some left over guilt considering she’d spent the majority of Maeve’s existence in her life hating the girl, or atleast hating what she had that Bugsy thought she could never be privy to. Perhaps it was because all things considered she wanted Spencer to know that it was okay for him to mourn, because she’d never force him to hurry up his process when he’d been there for every second of hers.
She handed him the potted plant, the small purple petals in the shape of half moons lighting up at him, and his mind raced as to what species they were since he’d certainly never seen them around the East Coast before.
“Scaevola aemula,” She said, fiddling with the hem of his shirt around her waist as she spoke because his eyes were unnervingly doe-like when he looked at her in the dark lamp light, “It’s called the fairy fan flower. I thought-"
She paused, her expression morphing into embarrassment, "Wait, this is so stupid, I’ll send them back,” She shook her head, the worry overtaking the rational part of her as she grabbed for the pot to stash it back in her room, but he held it out of her reach, wrapping an arm around her waist and pulling her body against his hip, as the other stretched out to keep her from snatching back the plant.
“Tell me. What?” He said, his lips stretching into a devious smile to see her so shy suddenly, and she buried her face into her hands as he watched her, “I'm not going to think it's stupid. Why did you get me these?”
“They’re not for you- well, they are, but I just thought,” She stumbled over her sentences, her heart thumping that this was entirely the wrong move, that she was poking at an open wound no matter how caring she was being. Clearing her throat, she let her forehead thump onto his shoulder, her eyes squeezing shut as she spoke, “I thought you could keep it so that you can think of Maeve every time you water it, since Maeve was the name of the fairy queen,”
He was quiet. God, why was he so quiet? Her breath was thick as molasses as they sat in the silence for a second. She nearly jumped a foot in the air when two of his fingers ran delicately beneath her chin, tilting her head up enough that he could see her face and she drew a sigh of relief when she saw he didn’t seem angry or hurt at all.
His eyes were soft as pools of honey as he looked at her, his brows stirring into a sad-happy mix.
“I’m sorry if I’ve upset you,” She whispered, their faces so close they were sharing breath, and he shook his head, his fingers never leaving her skin where they forced her to stay near, gave her no choice but to keep her looking at him. She didn’t think she could stop even if she wanted to. Everything pretty about him was dialled to a thousand whenever she got close, and his thick lashes blinked at her like he was seeing a mirage, a daydream.
“This is the most thoughtful thing anyone has ever done for me, Bug,” Spencer murmured back to her, his every word fanning over the bridge of her nose, and she sighed in content, melting back into his side as he pulled her into a hug, his own face burying into the crook of her neck, “Thankyou,”
She smiled and hummed in happiness, wrapping her arms around his slender waist and drawing him so close she got a whiff of his shampoo.
“I have a bigger pot in my room, if you like, then we can keep it in the kitchen sill, away from the boys,” She offered, beaming at him when he stroked over the back of her hair affectionately. She hopped out of the embrace, “I’ll go get it for you-”
“You’ve done enough, Bug,” Spencer reminded, something grateful in his tone as she paused and waited for whatever he was going to say, “I’ll go get the pot, you go decide what movie we should watch,”
“You’re sure?” Bugsy asked, her brows furrowed as she checked for signs of an escape in his movements. But he just smiled back at her tiredly, the purple flowers his accomplice as she gave in and headed back towards the sofa, “It’s by my dresser, where my paper bin used to be,”
He set the gift on the kitchen table, the lilac hues brightening up the kitchen already like they just knew how touched Spencer felt to have received them, like there really was some kind of fairy magic burrowed into the soil as they watched the two of them dance around one another, heading to opposite ends of the apartment with lingering glances and bashful smiles.
Spencer thought his chest couldn’t swell any bigger in size, his heart so inevitably full of her, it left room for no one else, not even Maeve, which was the first time he’d brought himself to think that in months.
+1 The one with the book.
He opened the door to her bedroom, her duvet tossed everywhere because it was a rare occasion she made her bed before they left for work, her clothes strewn about the floor in the general direction of the bathroom, like she’d stripped on the way there, and the thought of it made his stomach seize with a heat, the idea of her undressing little more than a wall away from him knocking his every thought from his head.
The vase. He needed a bigger vase.
Quickly collecting her clothes up and shoving them into her laundry basket for her, he diverted his attention to her dresser, where the slightly roomier pot sat on the floor, a towel underneath it to catch any water remnants and he stepped over her various note pads and books she’d clearly tossed off the bed before she went to sleep.
He tried to ignore them, he really did, but his scratching urge to keep things tidy for her wrestled with his conscience that said to leave her stuff alone. Before he could talk himself out of it, he found himself organising them into a neat pile in his hands and placing them on top of her dresser where one of her books had made it safely, or at least safe enough she wouldn’t trip over it.
His gaze dropped to the book already on there, its leather cover entirely melting into the background of the dark chestnut dresser, yet it stared daggers up at him like it had been waiting to be noticed.
Great Expectations, Charles Dickens.
The book looked old enough to be easily from original 1900s, at least one of the first few hundred published. It was scuffed a little on the edges, the black lettering of the printed title choppy in places where it had been handled recklessly, and the leaves of paper were atom thin. The smell of dust and paper clouded his nose when he picked it up delicately.
Opening the front cover curiously to see its printed date, he was stopped in his tracks to see a little post it note on the title page, covering Mr Dickens’ name with a scrawled handwriting he’d known for six years.
Six whole years. Nearly seven. He felt like he’d known her his whole life, when in startling reality he’d not even known her a third of it.
And there it was, where he was expecting a list of notes or her thoughts on how David Copperfield had much more likeable characters, anything that she’d thought important enough to scratch down on the front page, instead was his name.
Spencer,
He felt his breath catch the second he read it, contemplated slamming the book shut right then and there because this felt illicit to read whatever it was she’d scribbled out just for him even if it was dedicated to the stupid man who’d been asking her to wait on his stupid head and stupider heart to align so he could give her exactly everything she deserved.
His gaze snapped away from the page, that voice in his head telling him this was wrong, that if she’d wanted him to see that book she would have given it to him already. And yet, like it did most days, the beating organ in his chest writhed in annoyance that he’d looked away, that he’d followed the rules one too many times for its liking. He bit his cheek, the two halves of himself arguing amongst themselves.
After a second of debating, his eyes fell slowly to the note, a creeping guilt skirting down his spine that he was reading something private. How could something be private and yet meant for him? His brain scoffed at the dichotomy of it all, while his chest lurched when he caught a glimpse of more of her writing.
‘Spencer,’ His heart trembled almost as much as his hand as he traced the writing with his forefinger, imagining her writing it out in a little ball point pen, her body slumped over the book with every intent of having him read her little note. He imaged her breath fanning across the page, her hand warm as her knuckles stroked over the paper, and it felt so much more intimate than a little post-it when he thought of her like that, ‘By the time you’re reading this I’ll be back home from London and we’ll probably be in your apartment doing that stupid thing we do when we pretend like I haven’t missed you more than anything in the whole world while I’ve been here in England,’
She wrote this in London, probably in that tiny apartment her and Emily had rented on a short lease, the one she’d said smelled like mildew and dust and wet wood but had a gorgeous view of Hyde Park when she looked out her bedroom window.
She’d written it months ago, so why hadn’t she given it to him?
‘I miss you every day. You’re all I think about when I go for a run, and I think sometimes you’d really like it here. I’ve mapped out all the bookshops I’ve found and all the places that do really good coffee if you ever did want to visit England, but I think I’d be happy with you even if we lived in a little ditch on the side of the road like two drowning rats,’
His chest seized, tears lining his lashes when he thought about that day she’d yanked him into a hug the second she saw him, when he’d been too busy thinking about Maeve and burying whatever he felt for Bugsy entirely behind him.
You should have called, Bug. He’d said, like his eidetic memory wanted to twist the knife in just that bit deeper, and he didn’t need his freaky brain to remember how her face had fallen when he’d said it like that. Like he didn’t even want to see her.
He hated himself. He hated himself more than she’d ever had. Even if she had more rights than anyone to despise his selfish guts.
‘Anyway, I know Dickens isn’t your favourite or anything, but I got you this because I know you like the original copies and because it made me think of you (but then again, what doesn’t?).
I never truly enjoyed the living part of life until you were in mine. And so I guess that means I’ll love you until the life part stops too.
All my heart,
Bug.’
He didn’t realise he was holding his breath until he finished the note, digesting every single word the average speed instead of his usual method of inhaling the letters faster than should be possible, like he wanted to savour every single one because they’d come from her.
He heard her saying every single one, the thought striking him like someone had cracked him across the face with a paddle. She’d wanted to say all of this when she was in London, when he’d been too busy for her, when he’d been too busy with Maeve.
I never truly enjoyed the living part of life until you were in mine.
“Did you find it?” Her voice called from the other room, no doubt where she was settling down to flick the movie on, her heart so delicate and gracious because she was still waiting for him.
Even now, even when she was in his clothes and under the blanket she’d brought from her apartment for them to use on movie nights because it got cold too fast in his house, when she was waiting for him to come back.
Spencer felt knocked out of a dream, like someone had yanked the chord on his music, shaken him awake into the freezing realisation she was waiting for a reply.
He’d made her wait long enough.
He barely heard her footsteps entering her own room, probably worried when he hadn’t responded and she said his name, “Spence?” A shudder rolled over his neck when he heard it, a siren song he’d been hearing like a mantra for weeks and he felt something fat and full well in his chest when he turned to look at her, standing there in nothing but boxers and a shirt, just as she had when he’d first met her.
Except she was his. She was waiting on his call, on his signal, on his word go.
And it was like the idea of being with her for the rest of his life made his living part worth it too. Like it always had done.
Her eyes fell down to where his hand rested on top of the book, the page splayed open where he’d delicately flicked it open, the yellow post-it catching in the light and making her expression fall.
They looked at each other, the same thought channelling between them, their brains meshed together on some other kind of bluetooth the same way they’d always done, only this time it was a prickling hive mind that gave them both gooseflesh the second they locked eyes.
“Why didn’t you give me this?” He asked, his voice small because he already knew the answer, not daring to move a muscle like she was some kind of deer ready to be spooked.
“You were busy,” She said equally as sheepish, her thumb moving to pick the side of her nail when she saw his still stature. They went quiet again, neither of them daring so much as to breathe too loud because they both knew what was on that note. It was the closest she could ever come to splitting open her own chest and handing him that thumping wad of bloodied muscle herself, and it was only when he turned to look at her did she panic, words tumbling from her lips; anything to stop him from walking away because she’d been poking around a fresh wound, “You weren’t supposed to see- I mean you were but only when you wanted to, I didn’t want you to think-”
Except he wasn’t heading for the door like she’d thought, he was heading straight for her.
“Spence, please, I wasn’t going to tell you until-” But she’d shut up, because instead of replying anything back to her, instead of telling her she could have his heart and his soul and everything in between if she’d ever ask for it again, instead of telling her she was the thing that had kept him alive, like she might as well be the blood that rushed through every one of his veins, he grabbed her face in his hands so hard her back hit the wall, her hands flying out to stop herself from falling.
And he kissed her, so hard he thought he might cry because it was better than any high he’d ever had, any drug on the market, better than his wildest dreams. She froze for a second, worried she’d tripped and fallen on her way over, that this was a concussion spun wild, because there was no way he was kissing her with every inch of their available skin pressing against one another, his hands swallowing her cheeks whole, his body invading her space, his breath rushing through her nose that bumped against his clumsily.
Bugsy woke up after a second, her hands gripping onto his slender waist like he was pulling her drowning out of water, like he was dragging her from a flame which she didn’t think sounded too far off since her skin had become molten, her cheeks hot, her chest wrenching for control like she’d inhaled black smoke.
But he was there, kissing her like she was all he had left, and she kissed him back with equal fervour, whimpering when he bit her lip, a hand wrapping around her waist to tug her just that bit closer to his stomach. Any molecule of her that was left behind was stolen by the action, and all she could think was that every inch of her was his, entirely his, his forever if he wanted it.
“I love you, I love you so much,” He gasped, drawing away for a split second of air before he took her lips to his own once more, twice, and a third for good luck, their teeth knocking together as he wanted to tell her that a million more times while still kissing her, “I love you, I love you. God, I don’t think I ever want to stop saying it,”
He pulled her to him again, silencing his own stupid ramblings of a mad man, a whine dragging from his throat as his brows furrowed, his lips soft and plump as he kissed her like he was begging for honey after a hundred day fast.
And she smiled into his mouth, because Spencer was finally hers.
--
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#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid imagine#spencer reid fanfiction#criminal minds x reader#matthew grey gubler x reader#Matthew gray Gubler x reader
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Baby Fever | My Hero Academia
Characters | Bakugo Katsuki, Todoroki Shoto, Midoriya Izuku, Todoroki Toya, Kirishima Eijiro
CW | mentions of pregnancy, suggestive content, reader agreeing to get pregnant, kinda jealousy in Bakugo's, kinda pressure in Midoriya's (from his mom) but also wanting it too
A/N | I love the idea of the boys having baby fever (even though not all of these are them having baby fever), I just think it's so cute
Bakugo Katsuki
Deku was having a kid?!
Katsuki was stunned as he held his phone to his ear, listening to his childhood friend and perpetual rival talking excitedly about the news his wife recently gave him. His grip tightens on the phone as he listens to the green haired man on the other side of the phone gushing about how excited he is.
As soon as Izuku hangs up, he calls out to you, his own wife. When you walk into the room, he walks over to you quickly, long strides leaving him stood very close to you, his arms caging you against the wall.
The look you give as you look up at him makes him smile softly, biting his lower lip a little. He tells you the news about Izuku's first child being on the way, which of course makes you excited, happy for your friends.
"We should have a baby too," he smirks slightly, whispering into your ear. When you give him a surprised, slightly confused look, he smirks, leaning down to kiss you. "C'mon, babe. I can't let that bastard get that far ahead of me. Gonna help me keep up?"
There's no way you could possibly say no when he speaks and looks at you like that. There's no time wasted in trying, him immediately taking you to your shared bed. He can't let that bastard Deku get too far ahead after all, can he?
Todoroki Shoto
Shoto was never really sure if he wanted to have a child or not. He didn't have the best childhood, and he was scared that he would end up being a bad parent.
He was still scared of that, he couldn't deny it, but when you're cuddling with him on the couch, watching television, he can't help but consider the idea whenever a child actor comes on the screen.
This weird feeling had been following him for months now. He found himself doing things he wouldn't usually, resting his hand on your stomach more when you're cuddling, imagining you clinging onto him, heavily pregnant and somehow looking more beautiful than ever.
He had no idea you were also having these thoughts. You hadn't brought it up because you knew he was a little hesitant about the idea. You figured you'd wait for him to bring up the topic first so he doesn't feel pressured, but now, every part of your being aching for a baby, you know you just can't wait any longer.
On one of his days off, you walk up to your fiancé and tell him to put a baby in you. The look on his face is both cute and hilarious. Despite how demanding your initial request was, the two of you sit and talk for a while, getting both of your feelings out there.
When you both agree that you both definitely want a baby, you decide you'll start trying as soon as the wedding is over.
Midoriya Izuku
It had been 4 months since you and Izuku had gotten married in a beautiful ceremony in front of your family and closest friends. Both your groom and your new mother-in-law cried a lot.
Speaking of Izuku's wonderful mother, you were visiting her one day, as you and your husband typically do at least once a week. You absolutely don't mind doing this, I mean it when I say Inko is wonderful, and that includes to you. She fully welcomed you into her little family.
"So, when am I getting a grandchild?"
The question comes out of nowhere, Izuku choking on the water he unfortunately happened to be drinking. "Mom!"
"What?" she asks with a smile. "You've been married for a little while now, surely that's the next step, right?"
Izuku laughs nervously, glancing at you briefly and squeezing your hand. "We don't know when that'll be happening yet."
The entirety of the rest of the time you spend at Inko's home that day, he can't take his mind off what his mom said. He hadn't really even thought about it since you got married, content with his life the way it is now. Now an idea has been planted in his head.
When you're back in the car, driving back to your own house, Izuku interrupts you while you're speaking (he didn't mean to, he was just so deep in thought that he didn't even realise you were talking). He asks if you want to have a baby, and it takes you almost no time to say you do.
Todoroki Toya
There's nothing you could think of that triggered your baby fever. You just wanted a baby, and you wanted one bad. You know your boyfriend will be a good dad, even if he doesn't seem to believe it.
He doesn't seem to believe that he has any kind of soft side. The big idiot obviously doesn't realise the way he acts with you, and you know that he'll be similar with your baby.
He wasn't even considering the idea before you brought it up to him. You weren't exactly subtle about it either, practically jumping on him and telling him to give you his baby. The demand shocks him, but there's something about hearing it come from your mouth that made him want it, made him feel like it would be okay for that to happen. He trusts you, and if that's what you think is best and what you want, he'll give you that.
There is no time wasted, Toya happily spending the rest of the night making sure that you'll get his baby as soon as possible.
Kirishima Eijiro
Eijiro has always liked kids, he thinks they're just adorable! How could he not like them? Being a pro hero means that there are so many children that look up to him, and it isn't an unusual occurrence for him to be swarmed by young fans while he's on patrol.
The baby fever really kicks in for him when a family of three come up to him while he's out on patrol, an excited baby babbling in his mother's arms as he reaches out towards the hero.
The baby's mother explains to him that he's her son's favourite hero. He always smiles and babbles and points whenever Red Riot is on television. It goes without saying that hearing that makes your boyfriend's soft heart melt.
As soon as they leave, he decides he'll have to bring this up with you as soon as he gets back to you. He's known for a while that he wants a baby, but after that reaction, he knows he has to bring it up to you.
Of course, he does bring it up to you very quickly when he gets home after patrol is over. It's pretty much the first thing he says to you when he walks through the door, picking you up and spinning you around when you agree to start trying. He wastes no time in starting to try for a baby with you.
#mha#my hero academia#bakugo#bakugou#todoroki#midoriya#kirishima#dabi#dabi imagine#kirishima imagine#midoriya imagine#todoroki imagine#bakugo imagine#bakugou imagine#mha imagines#bakugo x reader#todoroki x reader#midoriya x reader#dabi x reader#kirishima x reader
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Currently Watching - June
aka The Masterlist
Because I love a good little list - in alphabetical order! 😊
Regularly updated during the month, latest update 02.06.2024
A little link to my favorite bl-tropes-collection 💙
gif-requests are currently closed🌼
Here you can find all of my gifs.
At the end you can have a look at what we can expect in April with a MDL link and a link for a trailer (if avaible).
This is guaranteed to contain spoilers!
1. 25 Ju, Akasaka de 🇯🇵 (7/10)
I really enjoyed this episode. It didn't feel like a filler. I loved to see some of Hayama's thoughts and emotions. He liked Shirasaki since forever and I really hope they can find their way back together. The pain is so bittersweet. They like each other, but because of walls and misunderstandings they can't live their feelings. Really good episode this week!
2. Cityboy_Log 🇰🇷 (16/?)
I am so confused right now. Sometimes these time jumps are confusing. But okay. Those two made up. And only Jihan apologised? I hate jealousy, extreme jealousy, but I think he didn't need to apologise... I think Jaejun should apologise too, at least for his flirty behavior and this fucking kiss. I still need time to love this again and I hope this story is not going to be more fucked up with cheating and stuff...
3. My Stand-In 🇹🇭 (6/12)
The only thing I can say about the last episode is: I am obsessed with this kiss... There is nothing more in my head. Brain empty. This series is becoming more and more interesting. I am emotional invested now!
4. Only Boo 🇹🇭 (8/12)
Oh Moo. Why are you so stubborn? I get him. He doesn't want to lie and he is proud of his boyfriend, but even though his friends and his mother are okay with his relationship with Kang, that doesn't mean others will be okay too. Which is so sad. Idols, actors, artists or people of public interest should be allowed to date and to have relationships and should be allowed to be people! This episode made me feel all fluffy and incredibly sad. And I saw so much foreshadowing in today's episode. The empty letter...
5. Wandee Goodday 🇹🇭 (5/12)
Both are little idiots. Idiots I love and adore. Their chemistry is so good. The tension and suppressed longing! Chef's kiss. They are both confused with their feelings for each other building up slowly. I think Dee has made up his mind already and knows there is more, even though he don't want to admit it and Yak is drawn to Dee like the moth to the light and tries to break those moments where he feels the longing for a real partnership with bringing up his crush on Taem. This whole dealing with crushes and developing something new, something different is so well done here! I really enjoy every episode.
6. Word of Honor 🇨🇳 (20/36)
Those two flirt a lot and are a married couple. Everyone knows that. And I love and enjoy that! Overall this is such a fun watch and the different sects and intrigues are sometimes a little bit confusing, but interesting. I love this world of martial arts and I love how protective Wen Kexing is over Zhou Zishu. I haven't felt like watching this lately. I wasn't in the right mood.
Finished in June
Series
Short Film
Movie
Double Mints 🇯🇵
Can I say I am a little bit disappointed? Don't get me wrong. This is a good movie, but it is always depicted as this fucked up, dark movie you should be warned to watch and named in one breath with Dangerous Dr*gs of S*x or The Shortest Distance Is Round. And yes, it is brutal and dark and their relationship is interesting but kind of messed up, but it did not meet my expectations. Nevertheless I really liked it and from all those dark movies and series I watched so far, this is one of the better ones. I really like the devotion and enjoyed watching the D/s relationship. The ending was very much fitting for this kind of movie and kind of romantic. Yes, this sounds fucked up, but I guess both of them were very much on the edge and this is the only solution for them to be together forever and become one again. They found each other and that is all they needed. Guess I liked this movie more than I first thought.
So for me it gets a good 8,5 out of 10.
Dropped in June
Looking forward to in June
My Love Mix-Up - Trailer (June 7th)
Love Sea - Trailer (June 9th)
Aki wa Haru to Gohan wo Tabetai 2 Haime! (June 14th in cinemas)
SunsetxVibes - Pilot (June 15th)
The Rebound (June 26th)
Blue Boys Part 2 (some time in June)
Born to be Y - Teaser (allegedly in June)
#currently watching#josi watching bl#masterlist#bl series#bl drama#monthly overview#cityboy_log#word of honor#only boo!#25 ji akasaka de#at 25:00 in akasaka#my stand in#wandee goodday#bls in june#Double Mints
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In Breakable Heaven CH1
It's @ladrienjune yall!
And I know what you're all thinking
But I finally wrote something! One chapter of a thing. For now, but more will be coming, I promise! As I mentioned previously, I am moving for the next couple weeks, but I will hopefully have some down time to write here and there. I also still need to plan the ending for this fic, but shhhhh that's future Cat's problem ;) Anywho, here's the beginning of a Ladrien secret-dating adventure. Enjoy~
This chapter covers days 6, 7, and 8 (social media, jealousy, and biggest fan respectively).
Read on AO3
Rating: G
Summary:
When Adrien wins a contest on the Ladyblog, he catches the attention of Ladybug herself and scores more than just an opportunity to hang out with her. Caught in a fever dream high, the two lovebirds try to navigate their budding relationship away from the public eye and find that keeping secrets is a lot harder than they anticipated. Devils roll the dice, angels roll their eyes, what doesn't kill them makes them want each other more, and they'll do whatever it takes to stay in breakable heaven.
Chapter 1
“You Play Stupid Games, You Win Stupid Prizes”
“Alright, Bugheads, now onto the big announcement! With summer holidays coming up, I thought it would be a fun time to host a little contest, and ask the question: How well you know our resident superheroine? I’ve created a quiz that only the most die-hard fans will be able to pass because the stakes on this one are high. The person with the highest score will get to spend an afternoon with Ladybug! And don’t worry, this was approved by the head bug herself! Details for entry are listed below. Best of luck to all of you, and don’t forget to stay connected!” Alya’s cheery lilt ended on Adrien’s computer screen, and he leaned back in his chair.
“A whole afternoon with Ladybug?” He swooned.
“What’s the big deal? You already spend every afternoon with her.” Plagg hovered over Adrien’s head with a wedge of cheese.
“Yeah, when we’re fighting bad guys,” Adrien said pointedly. “She never wants to spend time with me outside of work. This could be my chance to finally see a movie with her.”
“What’s the appeal of seeing a movie anyway? You just sit next to each other in silence for several hours. The only plus is the buttery popcorn with its salty, crunchy, oily goodness...” Plagg shoved the cheese into his mouth and chewed thoughtfully for a moment. “On second thought, why don’t you and I go see a movie? I’m much better company.”
Adrien rolled his eyes and clicked the leaderboard in the comments of Alya’s post. Someone had already gotten a decently high score on the quiz, only a few points away from perfect. A few scrolls down, the same username popped up again, and Adrien’s grip tightened on his mouse.
ladybugsfuturebf: Good luck beating my score! Only Ladybug herself could score higher. Can’t wait to spend one-on-one time with her on our date!
“Who does this guy think he is? A date? Ladybug’s future boyfriend? Before me?” Adrien scoffed.
“Need I remind you, the contest is to win a chance to hang out with her, not date her,” Plagg said.
What kind of flowers do you think she likes? Oh, wait! I already answered that on the quiz! She’s gonna be so impressed she’ll forget all about Chat Noir.
Adrien’s teeth ground together. There was no way such a boastful, arrogant person was in the lead. And forget about him? Please, he was Ladybug’s best friend! No one knew her better than him. He could ace that quiz in no time.
“What are you doing?” Plagg sighed as Adrien clicked the entry form.
“Oh, come on, Plagg. I can’t let that guy win! If anyone is going to win a date with Ladybug, it’s me! I know her better than anyone,” Adrien said.
Plagg floated down in front of his face. “And you don’t think it’s going to be a problem if you get a perfect score? Let’s just broadcast to the world that you’re Chat Noir!”
“I’m not that dense, Plagg.” Adrien waved him out of the way. “I’ll sign up with a fake email and username. No one will ever know Adrien Agreste won.”
Pursing his lips, he tapped the keys of his keyboard in thought on the account creation screen. He needed something inconspicuous, but not too mysterious. Something that wouldn’t be surprising when Chat Noir revealed himself as the winner, but also, not something that would be a dead giveaway that it was him. He didn’t want Ladybug to disqualify him for cheating. Besides, he wasn’t really cheating. There were no rules that her best friend and partner couldn’t enter…
He’d keep it simple but on brand — thecatsmeow had a nice ring to it, and it was surprisingly not taken. Now that his account was squared away, he just had to pass the quiz. 40 questions? Piece of cake.
What is Ladybug’s favorite color? Easy, pink.
Favorite musical artist? Jagged Stone.
Eye color?
It was almost sad how easy the questions were, and before he knew it, he’d finished. Adrien sat back as the site tabulated his score, and Plagg came to a rest on the top of his chair. A perfect score flashed on the screen, and Adrien shot up with a whoop.
“Yes! Take that ladybugsfuturebf!” he cheered.
“Don’t you think Ladybug is going to be mad when she finds out you won?” Plagg asked.
“Oh, come on. If anything, this just proves how much I pay attention. She’ll be impressed that I know her so well,” he said. At Plagg’s skeptical expression, Adrien sat back down. “And she’s not going to have a choice because I won fair and square.”
“You’re delusional.” Plagg floated off.
Adrien shrugged it off, smiling at his username at the top of the leaderboard. He was finally going to get that movie date with Ladybug! Nothing was going to sour his mood.
***
The next day, Adrien arrived at school as usual, shutting the door to his silver town car without a second thought. After winning the date with Ladybug, he was on cloud nine, imaging how romantic it would be in the dark theater. Maybe he’d pick a horror movie and hold her when she got scared. Oh! And their hands could brush as they both reached for popcorn at the same time! Entering the contest was the best idea he’d ever had.
“There’s no way it’s not him. Chat Noir totally won the contest,” Alya said as he entered the classroom.
Adrien stopped in his tracks. Okay, maybe not his best idea, but it was fine because he used a fake account. There was no way they traced it back to him.
None of them paid him any mind as he took his seat beside Nino, who was tapping his chin in thought.
“But why would Chat Noir need to enter a contest to spend time with Ladybug. He spends like the most time with her out of everyone,” Nino said.
“It’s so obvious. He’s been trying to get her to go to the movies with him for like ever, and now she has to say yes,” Alya said.
“Shouldn’t that be against the rules or something?” Marinette asked. “I mean, they spend so much time together, of course he’d know all the answers.”
“I’m willing to allow it because I think it’s really funny, and I don’t mind being Chat Noir’s wing woman.” She shrugged.
“Alya!” Marinette gasped.
“What? I want them to get together. Sue me.” Alya giggled.
“Hey, didn’t all the contestants have to have valid accounts to enter? What’s the name on the email address for the username that won?” Nino asked.
Adrien stiffened.
“Way ahead of you,” Alya said. “I looked right after the results posted, but the email is registered to an obvious alias, which further proves that it’s Chat Noir. He wouldn’t use his real name. He may not always look it, but he’s a smart cat.”
He wasn’t sure if he should be offended by that statement or not.
“Dang, would have been cool if we learned who he was,” Nino said.
Adrien breathed a sigh of relief when they let it drop. Everything was fine, and Alya wasn’t going to disqualify him. He could already taste the popcorn!
“Ya know,” it was Max who spoke up, having stopped midway up the stairs to his desk upon overhearing their conversation, “if you’re interested in knowing who the account really belongs to, I can track the IP address.”
Adrien’s heart shot up to his throat.
“Wait, for real?” Alya perked up.
“That would be totally awesome!” Nino added.
Maybe it would be fine. His father paid for crazy firewalls to protect his design secrets. No way anyone could get through them… Right?
“I recently upgraded Markov’s tracking capacity. I can crack a low-grade military firewall and find an address with pin-point accuracy,” Max said.
Most of the time, Adrien was amazed at Max’s genius, but today he was terrified of it. Plagg was right, entering the quiz was a surefire way to get him caught!
“Guys, that’s an invasion of privacy! Besides, don’t you think it will be dangerous if it is Chat Noir? I mean, exposing his identity will lead Hawkmoth right to his door. You’re practically handing him his Miraculous,” Marinette, his sweet pig-tailed savior, said.
Adrien cleared his throat and turned around, “Yeah, Marinette’s right. I think it will cause more trouble than it’s worth.” For him specifically.
“Chill out, I’m not going to post it online or anything. I just think if we knew who he was we could help him. I can be the girl on the ground, and I can also give him tips to fix his pitiful attempts at flirting with Ladybug,” Alya said.
Pitiful! Oh, she was definitely getting snubbed next time she asked for an interview.
“Alya, it’s dangerous and wrong. Even if he entered the contest for selfish reasons, that doesn’t mean you can invade his privacy like that.” Marinette chided. “Promise me you won’t look into it. It would put all of you and him in danger.”
Alya pursed her lips, exchanging glances with Max and Nino before slumping in her seat.
“Fine, I won’t look into it,” she said.
“Good,” Marinette said as Mlle. Bustier entered and called for everyone to find their seats.
Adrien turned back around, breathing out a ragged sigh. That was close, but it had all worked out in the end. He’d have to stop by the bakery later and buy a caseload of chouquettes to thank Marinette. Her level-head really saved his hide.
As the day wore on, Adrien pushed the morning’s conversation from his mind, though he had a feeling Plagg would give him an earful about it later. It would all be worth it when he and Ladybug finally went on their date. Could he get cherry blossoms this time of year? They were just barely out of season, but he could probably pull a few strings.
He pulled out his phone to check as he entered the library, and he’d almost found a promising listing when he rounded the corner and found Alya and Max crowded around a laptop at a table. Ducking back behind the bookshelf, he strained his ears to listen.
“His firewall is surprisingly good, it may take me a while to crack,” Max was saying.
“But you can definitely get around it?” Alya asked.
“Of course, what do you take me for?” Max scoffed.
They were going through with it after all! Adrien’s heart sped up, his palms growing shaky and sweaty. He should go over to their table and call them out for going back on their word, but would it be suspicious if he got onto them? Why would he be so bent on keeping Chat Noir’s identity secret unless he was Chat Noir? This was bad! What should he do?
Adrien bolted from the library, peering out over the railing at the courtyard below. Marinette was sketching quietly on a bench, and he raced to her side. She looked up at him with wide eyes, recoiling back with a nervous smile, probably in response to how desperate and deranged he looked, but there was no time to worry about that.
“Marinette, we have to stop Alya and Max. They’re in the library trying to crack Chat Noir’s firewall right now!” He panted.
“What?” She abandoned her sketchbook on the bench and took the lead back up the stairs to the library.
She burst through the doors and stormed over to their table, and Adrien did his best to look supportive but not too panicked. Alya winced when she saw them, and Marinette placed her hands on her hips.
“So, you were just going to go behind my back and do it anyways?” She scoffed.
“I’m sorry, girl! But think of how much good we could do if we could team up and help him!” Alya said.
“Think of how much danger you’re putting yourselves in! If Hawkmoth finds out you know his identity, he’ll come after you and your families. What if one of you gets akumatized? You could get hurt. Chat Noir could get hurt or worse!” Marinette said.
“She’s right. You guys shouldn’t go through with this,” Adrien added.
“I’m almost through the firewall,” Max said.
“Call it off, Max!” Marinette ordered.
“Keep going! We’re so close!” Alya pleaded. She turned to Marinette and pressed her palms together. “Look, I know it’s risky, but what if we can help take down Hawkmoth? That’s worth the risk, right?”
“It’s not our job! We don’t have superpowers, and it can put us and the people we love in danger!” Marinette placed her hands on Alya’s shoulders. “Please, stop.”
“Girl, I know you’re scared for me, but I promise I’ll be careful. ‘All that’s necessary for the triumph of evil-”
“That doesn’t apply here!” Marinette shook her head.
“I made it through the firewall!” Max said. “A few more seconds, and I can tell you exactly where he lives.”
Marinette and Alya were at a stand-off, and every clack of Max’s keyboard was a nail in Adrien’s coffin. He didn’t have a choice, but if they were going to find out it was him, he was going to do whatever it took to convince them he wasn’t Chat Noir. He just hoped Ladybug didn’t think he was a total freak afterward.
“It’s me!” He blurted. When Marinette and Alya turned to him with quirked brows, he let out a sigh. “I’m the one who won the contest. I’m thecatsmeow.”
Max’s keyboard went silent, and he turned the screen to face them where Adrien’s home address was flashing. “He’s telling the truth.”
“Whoa, so you’re Chat Noir?” Alya grinned.
“No!” Adrien held up cautioning hands. “I’m just, uhh, I didn’t want my father to know I entered, so I used a fake profile. There’s no way he would have let me go if he knew about it.”
“Why didn’t you say anything sooner?” Marinette asked.
Adrien rubbed the back of his neck and averted his gaze. “I guess I was just embarrassed. I didn’t want any of you to think less of me.”
“I don’t think less of you!” Marinette assured him. “I-I mean, you won the contest fair and square, and you had every right to enter.”
Alya’s eyes narrowed, and Adrien shrank under her gaze.
“I’m still not entirely convinced. Ladybug and I made some of those questions crazy specific. How would you know she doesn’t like anchovies on her pizza, or that she likes lemon in her tea?” Alya crossed her arms over her chest.
“I… have a lot of money and free time.” He shrugged. “I got a bunch of drone cameras and spy equipment, and I watch her and Chat Noir all the time.” When everyone stared at him with wide eyes, he quickly added, “Not in a creepy way! I just admire her.”
“…You don’t know her identity, do you?” Marinette asked.
“No, of course not! I’d never do something like that.” Adrien shook his head. “I’m just…her biggest fan.”
Alya looked him up and down, her skeptical expression giving way to a smile. “You could have just said something. I mean, you know how freak-crazy I am about all of this. I would have understood.”
“I’m sorry. I’m just used to keeping a lot of my interests a secret because I have my father’s brand to consider — and my father to consider. If he knew what I was doing, he’d put an end to it immediately.” Adrien traced his thumb over his ring behind his back.
“Well, you don’t have to worry about us. Your secret’s safe.” Alya placed a hand on his shoulder with a wink. “Though, I may need to borrow your drone from time to time as payment.”
“Alya,” Marinette said in a warning tone.
“We’ll discuss the details later,” she said. “And if you ever want to talk Ladybug, I’m always here.”
“Thanks.” He smiled, letting his shoulders relax.
“Though, I am still a bit confused on your logic. I mean, you won the contest, so you were going to have to reveal it was you eventually to claim your prize. What was your plan there?” Alya quirked a brow.
“Uhh, wear a disguise?” Adrien said with a wince.
Alya threw her head back with a laugh. “Well, congrats on winning. I’ll pass the message on to Ladybug that you’re the winner, and we’ll arrange your prize soon.”
“Thanks,” Adrien said.
When the bell rang, Alya and Max packed up, and Adrien breathed a sigh of relief as they headed to their next class. That was way too close, but somehow, he’d managed to convince them. Plagg was going to scold him later.
Marinette fell into step beside him, tugging at her blazer.
“Um, congrats on winning,” she said. “I-I think it’s a good thing you won instead of some weirdo. I mean, if I was Ladybug, I’d be happy you won because it means we’d get to spend time together, and who wouldn’t want to spend time with you?”
Adrien smiled at her. “Thanks. I’m looking forward to hanging out with her. I admire her a lot,” he said. “And thanks for your help earlier.”
“N-n- Mmmhmm.” Marinette nodded.
She fell back to link up with Alya, and Adrien bit back a smile. It wasn’t exactly what he’d planned, but he still got to spend time with Ladybug either way. And who knew? Maybe there would be advantages to her going with Adrien Agreste instead of Chat Noir. At least this way, she couldn’t scold him. Besides, it didn’t matter to him which side she fell in love with, so long as it was him. He couldn’t wait for their date!
#miraculous ladybug#ladrien#ladrienjune2024#day 6: social media#day 7: jealousy#day 8: biggest fan#my writing#adrien agreste#ladybug#tales of ladybug and cat noir#and yes cat is on her taylor swift bullshit with this one#this premise was actually a leftover from the eras fest i came up with a lot of ideas for different album eras#and this one is the lover era ;)
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✨Flowery Language
Shenanigans with minor Garreth/ Reader
"Are you aware of the language of flowers, Mr Weasley?"
"I'm fluent in honking daffodil, yeah. HOOOOONK. See?"
Garreth gets you flowers, and things go terribly wrong.
G-rated || no content warnings || 2k words || companion to Stay With Me, but can be read separately || feat. Prim as the Reader, and my other MCs Gibby and Missy
[read on AO3, read on Wattpad]
∘◦❁◦∘
Garreth Weasley swaggers down the hallway with a very important bouquet of flowers.
Today, after all, is a special anniversary: precisely three months and nine days since you started dating. And with O.W.L.s starting soon and the fifth-years hunkering down for the exam period, you've been very keen to frolic the Highlands to escape the stress... just kidding, you hole up in some dark corner of the library and cry about how you don't know anything. Close enough. He's just been making sure you're fed and watered and occasionally getting social contact in the form of a cuddle. Later he'll celebrate with you properly, but for now – what girl doesn't like flowers?
With Professor Garlick's permission he raided the greenhouses for some blossoms, mostly for ones with funny names like cyclamen and rhododendron, and a ton of primroses too, a nice little nod to your nickname, and clumped them together with twine. The end result is a colourful ensemble that will look great in a vase and, not to brag (yes to brag), this might be his best work ever – and he's a potion's genius, so he frequently creates his best work ever on a regular basis.
"Prim!"
In the hallway during lunch, he finds you with your nose in a textbook on your way to the library. Piqued by his voice, you turn towards him, summoning a broad smile, and he sidles up to you with the bouquet hiding behind his back.
"Guess what day it is today?"
You blink owlishly. "Thirty-two days, twenty-one hours and forty-seven minutes until exams?"
"... Well yes, but actually no. Try again?"
You tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, frowning. "I'm sorry, I've been so stressed. It's the fifth of May? A Thursday? Oh no, have I forgotten something important?"
"It's our sixty-ninth day together! Isn't that great?" He brandishes the bouquet. "And I brought you—"
"AAAAAH!" you shriek suddenly, flinching backwards and warding him away with the book. "No no no!"
"What the—? What's the matter—?"
"Get it away from me!"
You run away – full on, around the corner, dust swirling in your wake – leaving him standing there with his bouquet like an utter plonker. It takes him a few seconds to process what happened. Did he have bad breath? Did you not want to celebrate? Was it the flowers? He glances down at the bouquet, befuddled. You only reacted when he pulled them out – there must be something wrong with them.
He needs help, and he decides to seek it from the wisest person he knows.
"Mr Weasley, I am a door knocker," says the eagle on the Ravenclaw common room door. "I am not a relationship counsellor."
"I'm not here for counselling!" Garreth says, flinging out his arms. "Prim and I are fine, except for this one thing. It's these flowers. She screamed at them! Like, shrilly! Come ooooon, you love giving me your honest, brutal and often very rude opinion. Is it ugly? Does it smell bad?"
He shoves the bouquet to its beak, and it splutters, "I can make judgement perfectly well from a safe distance, thank you! To answer your question, it is neither ugly nor foul-smelling – by some miracle you have indeed managed to pull that off. No, I suspect the young lady takes a different issue. Are you aware of the language of flowers, Mr Weasley?"
"I'm fluent in honking daffodil, yeah. HOOOOONK. See?"
"That's not what I meant." It sighs. "The language of flowers is a Muggle method of subtly communicating emotions or thoughts through floristry. You know a red rose means passionate romantic love, for example? All flowers have a similar connotation, ranging from friendship to jealousy to life. When gifting flowers, one may create a dialogue of meaning through them."
"And you reckon Prim knows about flowery language?"
"She is a Ravenclaw," it says haughtily.
Garreth glances down at his bouquet. Honestly, he chose most of them because they looked pretty. He's simple like that.
"Okay, so... what do these mean?"
"I'm afraid that's as much knowledge as I possess."
He lets out a laugh. "You don't know something? You? The Ravenclaw door knocker?"
"If you don't want the whole school to know about when you were gyrating to Tchaikovsky's Piano Concerto No. 1 in only a bath towel, I suggest you keep quiet."
"... How the heck do you know about that? I was alone!"
"The dorm mirrors talk, Mr Weasley. Very loudly."
Bloody mirrors... "Fine. Where do I go? Who do I ask?"
"Someone fluent in the language of flowers might be good start. Perhaps a Muggle-born?"
"Gibby." She would know way more about this stuff. He heads down the stairs. "Thanks for the help. You're my favourite door knocker!"
"May my title be swiftly usurped."
Surprisingly, he finds Gibby outside the greenhouses. On her knees in the grass, she seems to be deep in concentration when he lumbers over, her brow scrunched behind her glasses. Strangely enough, Professor Black's house-elf Scrope is also at her side.
"Gibs! I need your Muggle expertise!"
She takes one look at the bouquet before screaming.
"Lord Almighty! Those better not be for me!"
Uh oh. "No! This— I made this for Prim. She ran away when I gave them to her and the door knocker said it might be because of some flower language thingy. Why? What's wrong with it?"
She gets to her feet, wiping grass off her knees. "Okay, my flower language is a bit rusty, but I believe this is what you've told her." She clears her throat. "Beware! I hate you. This is goodbye, you poor, jealous virgin... yay!"
It's like the earth swallows him whole. He said all those horrible things, all in some stupid flowers? No wonder you ran!
"Tell me how to fix it," he says desperately. "Please, I can't have her believing any of that's true!"
"I'd help you, but I'm kind of sort of... doing a punishment right now."
"... What for?"
Scrope finally pipes up. "The young lady thought it appropriate to bake Master Black a cake."
"He's so moody all the time! I figured it would cheer him up."
"She fell as she presented it. A direct hit on Master's face."
"But it tasted great!"
"As punishment, the young lady has been made to count blades of grass for three hours."
"I'm at eight thousand! ... Or was it seven? You sort of lose track after the first. Can I take a quick break, Mr Scrope?"
"Ten minutes," says Scrope. "Only because Master forbade Scrope from laughing when it was very funny."
It's apparently all she needs, when she drags Garreth to the greenhouses and starts plucking flowers furiously.
"You're going to have to scrap the whole bouquet," she says. "I mean, all the flowers you picked were horrible. Just really bad. Awful. It might've been kinder to tell Prim you hate her."
"Really not helping."
"The primroses can stay though. That's the yay one."
"Primroses mean yay?"
"Well, no. It sort of means youth and optimism, which I interpret as yay!"
Of all the flowers he picked, at least this one isn't bad. Gibby runs around taking her favourites.
"Okay, so, we have this one, pink heather, which means admiration. You want to show how much you admire her, right? Yes. More of it. We need amaryllis, for pride, because you're proud of her. Crocus – that means cheer. Oh! Honeysuckle. They grow in Feldcroft, they're lovely. Jasmine for elegance, red tulips for passion, pink roses for happiness.... are you getting all of this?"
"Yeah," he says, absolutely not getting all of this.
"We should add myrtle, for good luck, since she's taking her O.W.L.s soon. And purple hyacinth for sorrow, because you are very apologetic for that last bouquet. Oh, oh! And some daisies!"
"Aren't daisies weeds?"
She gasps. "No! How dare you! They represent first love! It's perfect."
He sticks them in the bouquet. By the time her ten minutes are up, Garreth has a ginormous bunch of flowers almost as large as his chest. He can barely hold it with one hand.
"Thanks for your help, really."
"Just guarantee me a front-row seat at the wedding. Now, if you'll excuse me..." She drops back to the lawn with Scrope. "Eight-thousand-and-fifty-one, eight-thousand-and-fifty-two..."
Garreth's on the way to find you in the library when he bumps into his friend Missy. She's not wearing her Slytherin robes today, instead an eclectic blouse and skirt, and her hair is dark blue, curling down almost to her waist.
"Good grief, what is that?"
"The bouquet I made for Prim. Isn't it glorious?"
"No, it's terrible. Do you plan to bludgeon her in the head with it?"
Garreth groans. "What do you mean? What's wrong now?"
"Look at the composition! It's much too heavy." She takes it from his hand, shooing him away to inspect. "The silhouette is too imposing... the flora to foliage ratio is unbalanced... the dimensions are far too biased on this side..."
"Can you please talk in wizard's English?"
"Bouquet ugly. Me fix."
"Fine." He gestures. "Have at it."
She starts tossing the flowers she deems extraneous, ruthlessly paring down the bouquet with pursed lips and callous eyes. "I assume you asked Gibby for help?"
"Yeah, why?"
She stifles a snort. "She knows her language of flowers, but her arranging skills leave much to be desired. Frankly I'm insulted you didn't come to me first."
"Sorry I didn't know you were an expert flower arrangerer."
"I only took floristry lessons for eight years. I'm sure that means nothing."
He rolls his eyes. Merlin, what a rich girl past-time. Once she's satisfied skinning the bouquet, lightening it physically and visually, she starts trimming some of the stems.
"No!" he yelps, just as she makes to remove the primroses. "No, keep those."
"It symbolises new beginnings," she says, raising an eyebrow. "However, you seem to have it in abundance. You don't think it's too much?"
"Keep it all," he says again. "It's the only flower I got right the first time."
And he's quite attached to the little primroses now. Name aside, they remind him of you: small and unassuming, but very cute. Missy shrugs in a suit yourself sort of way, and adjusts the stem heights instead. She changes the placement of the flowers so there is greenery between, and makes the foliage fan out prettily over the sides. By the time she's done, she holds an appealing, moderately sized bouquet with a variety of pink, purple and white flowers perfectly balanced with green.
"This will suffice," she says at last, handing it back to him. "Good luck."
"Or you could say myrtle, am I right?"
"Mmm, no." She pats him twice on the shoulder before spinning him around. "On your way, lover boy."
The library is fairly abandoned by the time Garreth arrives with his sensible bouquet. He has to do some real sneak-thievery crab-walking to get inside without Madam Scribner noticing, but when she gets distracted by another student chucking an inkwell over the bannister, Garreth makes his way to the back aisles.
Like he expected, you're there, textbooks and quills abound, ink staining your hands and face. He checks his breath, just in case (it's good), before he walks around the shelf.
"Don't panic, Prim—"
You spot the bouquet immediately and scramble to your feet, slapping a hand over your nose. "No, no—"
"Prim! Merlin's saggy danglers—" He snatches your arm before you can run away. "What? What is it?"
Your eyes squeeze shut, and tears form at the seal. "No, let me go! Please!"
"I'm really sorry if I offended you with my last bouquet! I swear I didn't mean to call you a poor, jealous virgin—"
"No, Garreth— ACHOO!" You flinch through a whole-body sneeze. "I'm allergic to primroses!"
As you fling yourself away, aggressively sneezing, Garreth's hand goes limp.
"I've been calling you Prim for the whole year and you're allergic to primroses?"
∘◦❁◦∘
Fin.
∘◦❁◦∘
Rhododendron – beware
Orange lily – hatred
Cyclamen – goodbye
Clematis – poverty
Yellow rose – jealousy
White lily – virginity
Pink heather – admiration
Amaryllis – pride
Crocus – cheer
Honeysuckle – bonds of love
Jasmine – elegance
Red tulip – passion
Pink rose – happiness
Myrtle – good luck
Purple hyacinth – apology
Daisy – first love
Primrose – new beginnings
#hogwarts legacy#hl#garreth weasley#garreth weasley x reader#garreth weasley x you#hogwarts legacy fanfic#acvasverse#gg gibby#gg prim#gg missy
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🌟Toxic🌟
~Human!Adam⚡ x Reader x Human!Lucifer🪽
Part 1 𖦹 Part 2 𖦹 Part 3 𖦹 Part 4 𖦹 Part 5 𖦹 Part 6 𖦹 Part 7
Summary: You return to the studio with Lucifer to break things off with Adam, unfortunately he doesn't take it so well.
Warnings/Promises: 18+, jealousy, love triangle, manipulation, sexual assault, oral (m receiving), violence
Wanting to get things over with quickly, you ask Lucifer to take you back to the studio that night. You open the door to the dressing room and walk in without Knocking to find Adam sitting at the vanity, combing through his hair. He doesn't look up at first, focused on his appearance. When he finally does notice you, he raises an eyebrow at your lack of a knock. "What is it?"
You walk up to him with a frown, brows pulled together. Adam continues to brush his hair, keeping his eyes on your reflection in the mirror.
"What's wrong?" he says, still looking bored.
Without a word you drop four little pink and white sticks on the vanity table in front of him. They clatter loudly as they settle. Adam's eyebrows shoot up at the sight of them. He slowly turns to face you, his expression curious now.
"What are these?" He picks one up and sees that they're pregnancy tests, all negative. Adam smirks as he drops the stick back down on the table. "Looks like you're not pregnant," he says, his tone implying that he couldn't care less. He goes back to brushing his hair, his mind already moving on from the topic.
"Don't act all innocent. I know you took the condom off halfway through last time." You say with a grimace. “The whole this was fucked, honestly.”
Adam raises an eyebrow at your accusation, still not taking you seriously. "Oh, so it's my fault?" he says, still brushing his hair. "You act like I forced you to have sex with me. You were just as willing as I was."
"I... I came in to try and break up with you and we ended up l… doing that..." You say becoming unsure of yourself. "And then you took off the condom halfway through even though I told you it wasn't a safe day."
Adam finally stops brushing his hair and stands to face you, his expression more serious now. "I thought we had a good thing going," he says, his tone almost pleading. "You know I can give you things that no other man can. And as for the condom…”
"What? What excuse could you possibly have?”
Adam pauses for a moment, his mind racing as he tries to come up with a good excuse. "I just wanted to feel closer to you," he finally says, his voice oozing with self- importance. "I thought maybe if we created a life together, it would strengthen our relationship."
"You mean you tried to get me pregnant so I couldn't leave you," you say sternly.
Adam's face twists into a sneer at your accusation. "You make it sound so selfish," he says, his voice dripping with venom. "I was trying to make us a family. But I guess that's just too much for someone like you to handle."
You look at him incredulously. "You were trying to trap me and it didn't work." Your brows pull together and you cross your arms. "And now it's over. I... I can't forgive this. We're done Adam."
Adam's face falls at your words, and he takes a step back as if you've physically struck him. "What…? What did I do wrong?" he stammers, his eyes wide with shock and confusion. "I thought you loved me."
"Are you kidding me? Have you not been listening this whole time? You guilted me into having sex with you when I didn't want to, then lied about wearing a condom and finished inside me in the hope of baby trapping me!"
Adam's face hardens at your words. "I can't believe you'd accuse me of stooping so low as to trick you into having a child with me." Adam shakes his head, his expression hurt and betrayed. "I never wanted to trick you," he says, his voice cracking with emotion. "I just wanted you to see that we belonged together. I... I love you, and I couldn't bear the thought of losing you."
"Then what do you call taking off the condom without telling me?"
Adam's expression darkens. "I call it a mistake," he says, his voice low and dangerous. "I wanted to feel close to you. I thought... I thought you might feel it too if we... well." He reaches out to touch your arm, but you pull away.
"If / got pregnant?" You attempt to finish his sentence for him.
Adam's face falls, and he looks away. "I... I didn't think it through," he admits, his voice low and ashamed. "I just wanted you. I didn't care about the consequences." He takes a deep breath and looks back at you, his eyes pleading.
"That's just it, you didn't think of the consequences because they were all for me! *I'm* the one who would have gotten pregnant against my will, *I'm* the one whose body would irrevocably change, *I'm* the one who would have to give birth to a child that was forced upon me. And you? You could dip out at any point and leave me with the consequences of *your* choices. And that's if I even decided to keep it!? But even then you'd have forced that horrible decision on me!"
Adam's expression turns defensive, and he crosses his arms over his chest. "I didn't force you to do anything," he says, his voice tight with anger. "You could have said no." He takes a step closer to you, his eyes flashing.
You stare at him in disbelief. "You think that the literal word would have done the trick?" You ask, standing still and attempting to hold your ground. "I told you to stop, I said to wait, I was reluctant and scared. You didn't stop. You know what I'd call that?"
Adam's face darkens, and he takes another step towards you, looming over you. "I’d call it passion," he growls, his voice low and dangerous.
"I'd call it assault," you finally say in a low voice.
Adam laughs, the sound cold and mocking. "You're being dramatic," he says, waving a hand dismissively. "I didn't hurt you... I made you cum, didn't I?" He grins, clearly thinking he's made a good point.
You flush, shame washing over you. "You know that's just a biological reaction to stimulus. That doesn't mean anything." You turn away, but he can tell he's shaken you.
Adam's expression turns softer, but it's clear he's still enjoying having the upper hand. He takes a step closer to you and places a hand on your shoulder, gently turning you back to face him. "But it felt good, didn't it?"
"Stop..." You say, gently pressing against his chest, but he pushes forward until you're up against the wall. Adam grins, his eyes dark with desire.
"I don't think you really want me to stop," he says, leaning in close. He brushes a strand of hair from your face and leans in to whisper in your ear. "I don't think you really want to leave."
"I do," you insist, trying to sound sure of yourself but failing. "Please, don't do this again."
Adam's expression turns serious for a moment, but the mask quickly slips back into place. He leans forward, his hands on the wall above your shoulders. "Do what again," he asks, his tone implying that this isn't over yet.
"Please don't repeat last time," you almost whisper.
Adam leans back, studying your face for a moment. "Oh, you mean when I made you come apart in my hands?" he says, his voice low and husky. He steps closer again, his body pressing against yours. "I have to say, it was pretty hot."
You squeeze your eyes shut. "Adam, please."
Adam smirks, leaning in to nuzzle your neck. "You don't have to be shy," he whispers, his breath hot against your skin. "I know you liked it." He reaches down, brushing his hand against your thigh. "Let me make you feel good again."
"I-I don't want this. I came to break up. For real. Lucifer is waiting for-" you begin to say but he cuts you off in a rage; his face darkening and his possessiveness flaring up in an instant.
"Lucifer?" he sneers, stepping away from you. "You're leaving me for that fucking bitch?"
"Don't call him that! He's kind. And he's never forced me to do something I wasn't comfortable with." The insinuation is clear.
Adam's eyes narrow, his hands clenching into fists. "Kind?" he snarls. "You mean the man who listened in while you sucked my dick a while back? Yeah I bet he didn't tell you that." He takes a step forward, caging you in with his arms again, his face twisted in rage. "He doesn't give a shit about you! All he wants is your pussy!"
"It sounds like you're projecting, Adam," you say in a low voice.
Adam's eyes narrow at your words, suspicion flaring in his gaze. "What the fuck are you talking about?" he snaps. It's clear that he's not used to anyone calling him out on his bullshit. "You think I'm the fucked up one here?"
You just glare up at him. "Let me go."
Adam's gaze hardens at your words, his hand clenching to a fist beside your head. "Do you really think what happened before was rape? That I assaulted you against your will?"
His blunt language takes you off guard and you blush slightly, looking away. Adam's eyes narrow at you.
"Fine. You really want to call it that, then why don't I show you the real deal...?" he says in a low and threatening tone.
Your eyes dart back up to his face just as he grips the front of your shirt and, with surprising strength, rips your blouse open. You let out a quick scream, both in fear and because the tearing of the fabric pulls and hurts your skin.
Adam's gaze is dark and calculating as he looks down at the torn fabric of your blouse, his grip still tight on the collar. "You shouldn't wear such thin material if you don't want it to get ripped off," he says in a tone that suggests satisfaction at your current state. You push at his chest as he presses his face into your neck, licking and biting at your skin.
"Adam! Please don't do this," you beg, your voice weak. “I don't want this…”
"You should have thought about that before you basically called me a rapist," he says with a low tone. "If I'm gonna be labeled one either way, I might as well get one last good fuck out of the deal."
"No!" You cry out, trying to hit him to get him off you. "Adam stop!"
Adam raises his eyebrows in surprise at the sudden change in your tone, showing some resistance instead of arousal. He frowns and grabs your wrists, pinning them above your head. "You're no fun anymore," he says, reaching down to loosen his pants.
"Stop! Please, Adam!" You begin to sob, pulling at his grip on your wrists, but the considerable strength difference is in his favour.
Adam's expression changes to one of annoyance at the sudden turn in the situation. "Oh, now you're crying? You really think those tears are gonna stop me," he says, still holding you still with one hand as he uses his other to pull out his cock.
Your breathing hitches, but you manage to take in a deep enough breath for one good yell. "Lucifer!” You scream. “Help!”
Adam's expression changes to one of shock at your scream for help, and he quickly covers your mouth with his hand. "Shut up, you cunt," he hisses. "You don't want him thinking I'm actually trying to rape you, do you?"
There's a sudden loud bang from the locked dressing room door. Adam ignores it, turning back to you, his smile giving you chills before removing his hand and kissing you to silence you so his other hand is free. You feel him groping down your body, his hand rough and uncaring as it goes, eventually making its way to your skirt.
Adam smirks as he tugs at the hem. It tears easily, revealing the panties beneath. He takes a moment to enjoy the sight of you in your ripped clothes before his hand reaches down to your panties, pulling them down just as roughly.
"Aaahh! Adam, please! Please don't do this," you cry out, your tears streaking your mascara down your face.
Adam laughs, his hand reaching down to his cock again as he starts to stroke himself slowly. "You don't have a choice, girl," he says, his eyes roving over your exposed body. "Unless you want to be a good little whore and start sucking."
You look up at him with shock and fear in your eyes. Adam watches you, a cruel glint in his own.
"Don't look at me like that," he commands, his voice dripping with venom. "It's too late for regrets now. But I'll accept any apologies you might have with a little blowjob."
Your lower lip quivers but you feel yourself sliding down the wall. Adam smirks as he sees you fall to your knees before him, his hand still wrapped around his cock. He grabs the back of your head, pulling you closer to him and pushes his dick into your mouth.
“Suck it like the good little whore you know you are," he says, his voice low and commanding.
You let out a squeak before closing your eyes tightly. You don't move on your own; instead, you just keep still with him in your mouth. Your hands resting on his thighs. Adam chuckles, using the hand on your head to guide you back and forth along his cock, thrusting into your mouth with a slow and steady rhythm. He gazes down at you, seeing your tears and mascara streaking down your face. He doesn't care, as long as his cock is getting sucked.
At first, it's not so bad, *I can endure*, you think to yourself. But then he begins to get rougher. Adam grabs your head with both hands, thrusting deeper into your mouth as you try to resist. He doesn't care if it hurts, he wants to dominate you and have power over you, no longer caring about your comfort. He wants to feel every inch of his cock in your mouth; the feeling of you gagging and choking making him even harder. He looks down at you with a sinister smile.
Suddenly there's a loud crash as the door breaks open. Lucifer steps in to see you on your knees, back pressed against the wall, with Adam standing before you, his hands tight on your head, using you like some kind of living fleshlight as you attempt to fight back, trapped.
Lucifer's eyes widen, a snarl quickly appearing on his face, his breath haggard as he steps towards you, his gaze intense and eyes shimmering with tears.
"You fucking bastard," he hisses at Adam before looking back to you, his vision blurs for a second as rage takes over, his hands curling into fists at his sides. Lucifer's gaze darkens, his eyes narrowing into slits as he takes in the scene before him, his heart racing at the idea that this had been allowed to escalate this far, but in an instant, his voice booms. "Enough!"
Adam looks up, surprised by the sudden intrusion. He doesn't let go of your head but looks at Lucifer with a smirk. He ignores the anger in his voice and tightens his grip on you, pushing deeper into your throat, causing you to gag and choke. "Well look who's here, the wife-stealer himself." Adam pulls out of your abused mouth, leaving you coughing and gasping for air. He wipes his cock on your hair before tucking it back in his pants, all while smirking down at you. He turns to face Lucifer as you scramble backwards into the wall, desperately trying to cover your exposed body. “You know, I always knew you were a pussy. But look at you now, ready to cry over some piece of ass."
Lucifer's anger boils over at the sight of Adam's treatment of you, his heart aching with frustration as he watches him wipe himself on your hair. His fists clench tighter and his eyes flash with rage, his anger boiling over as he sees red.
"You son of a bitch," he growls, lunging forward with fists clenched and ready to fight, not caring about the consequences. "How dare you lay a hand on her!"
Adam chuckles. "Oh, come on Lucifer. You act like you actually care about her."
Without hesitation, Lucifer steps forward, his hand shooting out to hit him. "You have no idea what you just brought upon yourself," he growls, his eyes glowing with a hellish fire.
Adam manages to duck just in time as Lucifer's fist whooshes past him, hitting the wall instead. He laughs in amusement, "You're seriously going to hit me for touching her? You really must have feelings for her."
Lucifer snarls at Adam's comment, his chest heaving with anger as he prepares to strike again. "You do not understand the meaning of love and loyalty, you sick bastard," he hisses, his eyes blazing fiercely at the man in front of him.
Adam steps closer, a smug grin on his face. "Oh, don't tell me you're jealous of my dick," he teases. "Is it because I can fuck her better than you can?" He grabs his crotch, giving it a squeeze.
Lucifer's patience reaches its breaking point as he listens to Adam's taunts, his anger threatening to consume him.
"You piece of human garbage," He says as he launches forward once again, his fists flying as he attacks with all his might, determined to defend your honour and prove himself as the better man.
Adam manages to dodge a few of Lucifer's fists but takes a few as well. "You really think you're better than me?" he asks, amusement filling his voice. "You're so consumed by your love for her that you can't see straight. You're weak, and I love it."
Lucifer halts his attack, breathing heavily as he stares at you with a mixture of disbelief and contempt. "You are mistaken," he says through gritted teeth. "I may love her, but my love only strengthens me. It doesn't cloud my judgment or my abilities."
"Oh, please," Adam scoffs, wiping some blood off his lip. "You're so blinded by love that you can't see the truth. I'm better than you in every way, and you know it. I'm hotter, more talented, and I fuck her better than you ever could, too."
Lucifer's eyes narrow as he hears Adam’s words, a deep-seated hatred building within him.
"You will not speak about her in such a manner," he growls, his voice dripping with venom. He can no longer contain his anger as he lunges forward, aiming a punch at his jaw and connecting, hard. "You are delusional if you truly believe any of that," he growls, seething with anger and frustration.
Adam staggers back, momentarily dazed from the punch. "Ow, fuck!" he exclaims, rubbing his jaw. He glares at Lucifer with a mixture of annoyance and amusement. "Oh come on, lighten up," he says, grinning slyly.
"Lighten up...? Lighten up!? Are you fucking kidding me?" Lucifer growls, stalking closer to him. "I just had to break down your door to stop you from forcing yourself on your supposed girlfriend because she wanted to leave you!" he stops long enough to take in a breath. "And need I remind you that the reason she's leaving you is because you're an abuser! You literally tried to knock her up to keep her from leaving you!"
Adam's smile falters slightly, but he quickly recovers, pushing his chest out as he smirks at Lucifer. "Whoa there, big guy. I was just having a little fun with her, she loves it," he says, shrugging.
"You call this 'loving it'!?" he asks, motioning towards you. Adam looks down to see you with your arms wrapped around yourself, shivering on the ground. You're still pressed against the wall, makeup smeared down your face, tears still wet on your cheeks.
Adam takes a step closer to you, reaching out a hand to touch your cheek in an attempt to wipe away a stray tear.
"Baby, don't cry," he says, his voice dripping with false concern, but you flinch away from him and it sends a fire through Lucifer.
"Don't fucking touch her!" he shouts, grabbing his wrist and yanking him away from you. "You think you can just manipulate her feelings like that!?" he growls, eyes burning with anger. He turns to look at you with a softness in his eyes that Adam never had, crouching down to be eye level with you. "Are you okay...?"
"Lucifer..." you push out through sobs, reaching up and desperately crawling into his arms.
"Shhh, it's okay," Lucifer murmurs, wrapping his arms around you tightly, pulling you in close to him. He kisses the top of your head gently as his own eyes fill with tears, seeing you in such a state ripping his heart apart.
Adam watches the scene unfold, his anger turning into jealousy and confusion. He doesn't understand why this woman, who he thought he had under his control, is suddenly seeking comfort in another man's arms. He takes a step back, watching you cry into his rival's chest. He wants to grab you and demand your attention back to him, to reach out and pull you away from Lucifer, but he knows that it would only make things worse. Adam's face contorts into a mask of indignation.
"You ungrateful bitch," he hisses under his breath, clenching his fists at his sides, his mind racing with thoughts of inadequacy and anger.
Lucifer's eyes narrow to dangerous slits as he glares at Adam. "You are the most delusional and disgusting person I have ever met in my entire life. Get the fuck out of here before I rip your goddamn head off!"
Adam's face falls as Lucifer speaks, his eyes widen, and the narcissistic mask finally falls. He stares at Lucifer in shock and disbelief, his mind reeling from the sudden attack. "You-you can't talk to me like that,"
"I can talk to you however I want,"he spits back, placing a protective hand on your head. "I'm your producer; or did you forget?"
Adam seems to shrink in front of you, the confidence and arrogance that once radiated off of him finally faltering under the weight of his own shame.
"I-I didn't forget," he stammers out, looking at Lucifer with a mixture of anger, jealousy, and confusion. "Producer or not, I’m still your headliner," Adam retorts, his voice shaking slightly as the realization of Lucifer's words hits him. He tries to maintain his composure, but his ego is bruised, and he can't help but feel a sense of defeat.
"Headliner?" Lucifer repeats, his tone incredulous. "You are but a fleeting memory in my career. I have seen countless headliners come and go. You are nothing special." He raises an eyebrow and smirks at Adam's wounded expression. "Get out. I don't think either of us want to ever see you ever again. You're fired."
Adam's eyes widen in shock as Lucifer delivers the final blow. The narcissist in him refuses to accept defeat, and he tries to rally back with a defensive response. "You can't fire me," he growls, gripping the edge of the vanity tightly.
"Watch me," he replies calmly, exuding a sense of power and dominance. "You are no longer needed. In fact, I think it would be best for everyone if you left the premises immediately." He stands up, holding you close and turning away from Adam, effectively ending the conversation.
Adam's grip on the vanity tightens as Lucifer dismisses him with such ease. The narcissist in him wants to refuse to back down, but he knows when he's beaten. He can hear the finality in Lucifer's voice and sees the determination in his eyes. Adam burns with a mixture of anger and disbelief at Lucifer's words. He can't believe he's being fired and replaced so easily. He stands up from the vanity, knocking over the stool behind him in a fit of rage before storming out.
"Good riddance," Lucifer mutters, shaking his head. He turns back to you, a concerned expression on his face. "Are you alright? He didn't hurt you, did he?" His eyes scan over your body, assessing any potential injuries.
You shake your head, sniffling. "My throat is sore... but that's all," you answer.
He reaches out, gently brushing your hair away from your neck and examining the red marks left by Adam's grip. "I should have put a stop to this sooner," he says, frowning. "He has no right to lay his hands on you in such a way.”
"Please don't blame yourself," you beg. "I told you I didn't want you here when I told him. I... I didn't think he'd..." Your breath hitches as your tears threaten to return.
"I know, my dear. It's not your fault," he reassures you, pulling you into a comforting embrace. His warmth radiates through you, calming your trembling body. "It seems I may have underestimated his possessiveness.”
"He's never done anything like that before..." You sob into his shoulder.
"Shh, it's alright," he murmurs, stroking your back soothingly. "You don't have to deal with him anymore. You're safe now." He pulls back slightly, cupping your chin and tilting your head up to meet his gaze. "Would you like me to take you home?”
You know he means his home, to the penthouse, and you nod, letting him scoop you up. He carries you out of the studio, ignoring the stares and whispers of the people around. Once outside, he places you gently into the passenger seat of his car, making sure to buckle you in securely before rounding the car to get behind the wheel and driving you away from Adam and this whole horrible situation.
Lucifer managed to rock in, just in time. Hopefully he can do some good to heal our little MC's heart.
Art for Rockstar Adam by @marblescorner
Taglist: @shadowqueen1318 @liveontelevision @honestlyshamelesskid @bad-and-drawn-that-way @lonelynmisunderstood @shcrou-sei @l0liamk @tasha-1994 @cosmiccandydreamer @memoire-du-ciel @looking1016
#hazbin hotel adam#adam x reader#adam x you#Adam#lucifer morningstar#lucifer smut#hazbin hotel lucifer#hazbin lucifer#lucifer magne#adam smut#fanfic#smut#fanfiction#writing#toxic#fan fic writing#lemon#mine#18+ only#18+ content#minors dni#minors do not interact#mdni
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k and I had a chat about jealousy (and up next is a stupidly long ramble in the tags)
#it's fucked up the rush of confidence I get from hearing he gets jealous over me#idk my dumb brain thinks feeling jealousy when your partner doesn't puts you in kind of a disadvantage#like you're afraid to lose them but they're not#it made me think of 🐕🦺 and how I felt so lucky that someone like him could like someone like me... I thought I didn't deserve it#so I lived in fear of him realizing he could do better and leaving me#so when I expressed my fears to him..#prompted by him meeting up with who I can only describe as the physical embodiment of perfection#when I told him how powerless it made me feel to know he would definitely fall for her#he said he liked me... he wanted me... that he did in fact find me attractive#(but this other woman who awakens every possible insecurity in me also made his dick hard so too bad)#and I knew he was poly... that one's on me for thinking I could be okay with it#he knew I couldn't long before I did#so he chose to not tell me things#that felt like pity#and once again I'd fear he was too good for me#at every turn I'm reminded of the million reasons why we couldn't work out#of how I held onto it so tightly I strangled us#now I have someone I send selfies to and he'll reply with a voicenote saying HOLY SHIT YOU'RE BEAUTIFUL#I'll see him flirting with other people and think hey he's mine :(#the difference is I'm not afraid to tell him that#bc he feels the same when it's the other way around#and every single time I'm jealous I remember the hours we've spent on videocalls#all the things we've said to other#the reassurance we give each other umprompted#and I don't feel insecure#he literally said ''you're my go to person to talk to'' and I teared up a little#I'm sure no one will read this but I needed to get this off my chest#and I'm definitely not putting this on scx I'm mutuals with the girl in question#it's not her fault that I'm an insecure lil shit and she said shes never doubted her self-worth#which good for u bestie but also fuck you a little.... k cool im gonna go bye i cant use more tags
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its so funny when a guy admits he likes you but then does nothing about it (doesn't call me after i give my number, doesn't ask me out, doesn't invite me to hangout with his friends) go girl boy give us nothing.
#friend i've had for like 7 years told me he likes me#and uh i dont feel the same way but#you would think he would've asked me to hangout irl or invite me places even with other ppl#who knows maybe i would have felt differently?#but no. nothing lol?#is that a jealousy thing- he doesn't want me to like one of his other friends#or an embarrassment thing- can't invite my friend who is a girl but we're not dating nooooo weird#sigh#and i will always be baffled by this other guy i went to HS with#we were messaging for days and then he tells me he likes me#and im pretty sure i told him i like him too#and then. nothing#he even started avoiding me at school after that#im just like wtf did i do? lol#its been years but sometimes i think about just randomly messaging him like#hey wtf was that about in HS why did you say you liked me but then you just stopped talking to me lol#and then another guy i was talking to at this place#LEAVES and then comes back in to ask for my number#and i gave it but he NEVER called me lmao#ok.#elle says things
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“𝐠𝐨𝐝 𝐈 𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐜𝐨𝐜𝐤”
𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: light angst/all smut, some possessiveness/jealousy, breeding, mind-break, overstimulation, squirting, pussy slapping, begging, double and hints of triple penetration (satoru's clones, listen i know you need to do things to get the clone but I don't care they are just going to appear because smut and I'm horny), fingering your ass, edging, begging, teasing, daddy/mama/princess/sweetheart etc...., hints at breeding, toji holds you up and fucks you like a cock sleeve, choking, stoner!suguru, shotgunning, some grinding, groping, kissing, semi-outdoor/car sex
𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐲 𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧: god I missed your cock with toru!
𝐒𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐮
Folding you in half, pinning the back of your knees by your sides. Admiring your soaking wet, tight cunt stretching to take his pale pink cockhead. Closing your eyes, biting your bottom lip, muffling your cries.
Gliding his cock out, the soft ridge line of his head tugging on your cunt. Slapping your plush lips and sensitive clit. "Look at me, sweetheart! Who am I?" Rolling your eyes at him.
"My annoying slightly handsome ex?" Your empty cunt clenching when he slaps his long, veiny cock.
"Wrong answer!" He groans at the slick sound of gliding his head between your plush wet lips. "Guess you don't need my cock that badly." Avoiding your clit, nudging half his head past your lips. Swirling his head at your soaking wet, clenching hole.
Pushing your hips down, Satoru pulls away. "No! I mean yes. I mean, I didn't need it before. If you won't, then I'll call Ky-" You can't finish the word before he stuffs two fingers past your lips. Pinching your tongue. A second Satoru looms over you.
Clone Toru lets your tongue go once you whine. He smirks crooning, "Why do you look surprised, my love?” Satoru flips you over by your legs, grabbing your hips and lifting them up. Grabbing the previously forgotten lube nearby.
'my love' the words replay in your mind, soaking your cunt and tugging on your heart. Bitting your lip refusing to let the 'i love you too' slip out. After all the work to try and forget him, crumbling in one night around him.
Satoru generously pours lube on your other hole. Smearing it in small circles, with his thick pointer fingers. Both holes clench from the anticipation. “I'm offended after all the times you begged for me to fill up every little, sloppy wet hole.” Toru grabs your hair, lifting your head up, stroking his head. Smearing his pre-cum with his thumb.
Moaning when Satoru glides his finger in, spreading the lube with each pump. “It’s been almost two years!" He swipes his cock head between your plush lips, squeezing your cheek with his finger in your ass. Satoru rocks his hips forward, Toru stuffs your mouth the second you moan.
Fingering your ass at the same pace he fucks your tight sloppy wet cunt. "So fuckin' warm, sweetheart." He roughly slaps your other cheek. Crying around Toru's cock, he pushes your head down, your cunt clenching as you gag.
Toru groans, "It doesn't matter who you fuck, you had me, sweetheart." Picking his pace up, his balls hitting your chin. Letting go of your hair, grabbing your neck, choking you. Both of your holes clenching from the pleasurable pain of the restriction whilst getting roughly face fucked.
Satoru groans, "I'll always be the best you've ever had. Tell me I'm wrong." Gliding another finger into your ass. It feels too good to have his thick fingers stretching, filling you up. As he pounds your sloppy wet cunt loose.
Your mind is going blank from getting sandwiched between two Satorus. "You're going to take another cock in this pretty little hole till I stuff every hole full of cum." You're losing your reservations towards him.
Whining the second Toru slips his cock out of your mouth, loosening his grasp on your neck. "God I missed your cocks!" Sticking your tongue out wanting him to fuck your mouth for your and his pleasure. Toru slaps his cock on your tongue.
"I know you did, that's why we couldn't stay away." Satoru pulls away, grabbing your neck to pull you back. Another Satoru appears before your eyes next to the first clone. Ru lays down, "You're going to take all three of me like you used to."
You want to pretend Satoru is your’s again. That you never left. Satoru loosens his grasp on your neck. "I'm your’s." Satoru pushes your chin up with his thumb, passionately kissing you with a loud groan. Wrapping his arm around your waist, shifting you to straddle his clone.
Ru's warm, cock into you. "All fuckin' mine, say it again. I need to hear it." Satoru lines his cock up with your asshole. Groaning from the pleasurable stretch into Satoru's mouth.
𝐓𝐨𝐣𝐢
You're blaming the drinks Toji bought you for the hot tingly soaking wetness of your cunt. It's not him, with his large macular body pinning you to the bed. Making you feel so small and powerless beneath him, nothing but a beautiful fuck toy for his cock.
You don't care how you've missed the shade of forest green Toji's eyes are. Old feelings aren't stirring up after he stares deep into your eyes. Switching between memorizing the way your soaking wet cunt stretches for fat, veiny cock and your cock drunk expression.
Reminding him, "This means nothing. We aren't talking after this." You can feel every puffy vein, the softness of his skin rubbing your soft, wet cunt. Clenching him, your eyes rolling back and toes curling from how hard Toji is.
You're going to cum when Toji stops moving. Pinching your clit, jerking your hips back into the blankets, crying. He points out, “Sounds like you're reminding yourself. You know you missed me mama. You didn't have to bring me home with ya." Stroking your clit, easing the pain with pleasure. Sliding his cock out till his fat head is tugging on your tight cunt.
He splays his fingers on your stomach, pinning you down. “Don't see why I did, when you're not letting me cummmm!” Toji grabs the headboard, using his size and strength to roughly glide his cock into your dripping cunt.
The venom in your voice softens into a needy moan. “You’re-nnnnannnn asshole.” Grabbing a fistful of his black hair to tug on it. He looks too beautiful moaning, his eyes fluttering shut his jaw dropping. His pussy drunk expression getting you off.
“I am sweetheart, I’m n' asshole for leaving both of ya. Biggest fuckin’ mistake was letting ya go.” You can't give in to him again. This is just lip service, but why when he's already in you.
It's already too much getting underneath him, taking his fat, veiny cock. You couldn't open your heart to him again. Whining, “Don’t say that." Letting your headboard go, grabbing your neck loosely, leaning down roughly kissing you.
Biting your bottom lip, making it tingle. “Can't help it doll, I'm inside ya but it's not enough I miss ya so badly. Miss see ya in the morning, coming home to ya, hearing your voice. Can't forget how beautiful you look with your belly swelling, your tits dripping milk." Your soaking wet cunt clenching Toji's veiny cock.
You're clamping down on his cock feeling every vein too acutely. You can't think straight, you can only fixate on how hard his cock is. Your toes curling, your tight trembling your cunt dripping down your cheeks. Your resolve crumbles.
Toji's former title slips off so easily, "Please Daddy don't stop! Oh god, daddy please m' so close! Oh god I missed your cock!" You're so close, the pressure in your gut is about to burst. Desperately you want to cum on Toji's cock.
Toji groans, the deep rough sound pushing you over the edge. "Aw my mama so worked up she's cumming after a few strokes. Good girl, make a mess of your daddy's cock" He grabs your neck and hip, pulling you off the bed. Holding you up right, bouncing you on his cock with ease.
Wrapping your arm around his shoulders digging in your nails. Giving up on thinking about anything else but being Toji's fuck toy. He loosens his grasp around your neck. "That's it nnnn! Daaadddy fuck me, use your cunt! Nnn you're so big stretching my pussy out, reachin' so deep. Nnnn." Sliding your hand down his thick arm, squeezing his hard muscular bicep.
Sliding your hand down his thick chest, his tits jiggle with each thrust. Squeezing one and biting down unable to resist. Toji croons, "You like how big daddy is? Huh let me hear it otherwise I won't cum in you." All you have to ground yourself and hold onto is Toji.
"I missed your dirty mouth talking about my big cock. Callin' me daddy makin' me want to make you a mama, oh wait I did." Whining, wrapping your legs around his waist, not wanting him to pull away. The one thing your mind can focus on is his thick cum.
Toji roughly grunts, "You're all fuckin' mine." Squeezing your throat tightly, rocking you faster on his cock. His navel brushing your sensitive, puffy clit. You're too close to cumming, and so quickly. You're so powerless in his hands, getting fucked by Toji like he owns your pussy.
Your body is tingling and going limp when he lets go. Holding you close to him by your neck. The second you can breath steadily you beg, "I'm your beautiful baby mama. Wanna feel you cum in me, please daddy. It's been so long, missed feeling your fat puffy veins pulse right before you fill me up."
𝐒𝐮𝐠𝐮𝐫𝐮
Suguru's large, warm hand hasn't left your thigh, sliding higher. Getting closer to your cunt soaking through your underwear. Pressing your thighs together trapping his hand. Taking your gaze off the full moon and stars above to study Suguru’s beautiful side profile.
He breathes in the last hit off the blunt, squeezing your thigh. Shifting your hips, his pinkie brushing your clothed cunt. Suguru leans in for a kiss, parting your lips, bitter smoke drifts into your mouth.
He pulls away too soon, snuffing out the blunt in the ashtray he bought. "Takin' me out here, smokin' with me under the stars." Straddling his hips. Suguru glides his hand underneath your shirt. "Seems like you're trying something." Rocking your hips, grinding your clothed, soaking wet cunt on his covered, hard cock.
He fondles your cheek, slipping his hand up your shirt. Closing your eyes, savoring the pleasure of Suguru feeling you up. His large warm hands, "I'm trying to see if we can make us work again. I've been getting help, doing better and I'm so fuckin' sorry I hurt you." Your eyes sting with tears you blink away.
"You're the best person I could have ever had the chance of being with. I miss you, want to be anything you'll let me be." Gliding your fingers into his soft dark hair, half up and down, pulling him in for another passionate kiss.
You've been in denial about how much miss the softness and shape of Suguru's lips. He parts his lip for you to slip your tongue past. Moaning into his mouth. There's a deep-seated longing in his needy groans, your moans, and the desperate way he holds onto you.
No one else feels so right to kiss, hump, and grope. Breaking away, his harsh words ring in the back of your head. Could you really start again, without him pushing you away? You couldn't fully take the step so quickly. "We can be friends with benefits, hang out and cuddle fuck a few times." His handsome face catches the full moon's light.
Kissing down Suguru's well-defined jawline. He wonders, "Do those benefits include going on dates?" He tugs on your shirt, pulling your arms up for Suguru to slip your shirt off. Tossing your shirt aside, you help Suguru make quick work of his shirt.
He's bigger since you last saw him. Thicker pecs, sharply defined abs, and brawny, muscular arms. "Sometimes, we can go on a casual date. Nothing fancy or serious." Dragging a finger down between his pecs. Tracing your finger underneath Suguru's left thick pec.
Suguru squeezes your hips, "More dates like these then? Just two friends fuckin' around in the woods." Standing up, wrapping your legs around his waist. You undo the bun in his hair, sliding your fingers through his silky hair. Once by his shoulders now meeting the middle of his back.
"Catching up, getting high, and staring at the stars isn't too bad of a way to pass time." Climbing onto the mattress in the back of his remodeled van. He leans over, laying you down with your head on a pillow. He grabs your skirt, tugging it off with your underwear tossing it to the side.
Spreading your legs groaning when he sees your soaking wet cunt clench. Spreading your lips apart, "Next time we can get a little kinker with it and I can hunt you down. When I win." Suguru glides a thick finger into you, "I'll fuck you till you squirt." Finding your g-spot in seconds. Rubbing your puffy, sensitive clit with his thumb.
You whine, "Don't tease me, please I want you so badly. God I missed your cock and how you touch n' kiss me." Your cries turn to begging, "Daddy let me suck you off if you're going to eat me out. I'll sit on your handsome face, gag myself with your cock n' massage your balls." He glides his finger out, licking it clean.
He climbs out of the van, partly pushing his cozy-looking baggy sweats down. "You missed what now?" Giving you a small glimpse of the bottom of his hard cock. The two thick veins on the top are making your mouth water. You want to suck his cock, and fondle his balls.
Crawling towards him, pushing his sweats down, grabbing his heavy cock. Your eyes widen, and you remember Suguru was big. But damn your memory didn't do him justice. using both your hands. "I remember but forgot big you are, hottest fuckin' cock," cupping his ball sack, fondling him. "I missed how you stretch out my cunt." Kissing his head, he groans, rutting his hips forward, his thick thighs flexing.
"I've missed how good you taste, want you to sit on my face and smother me." Smearing his pre cum around looking at him in his warm brown eyes. Letting him go, enjoying the soft plop of his heavy cock falling onto his balls.
He steps out of his sweats and climbs onto the bed. Fixing his hair so you won't kneel on it. In those few seconds, you can't leave him alone. Gliding your hands over his hard abs, picking up his cock and taking him deep into your mouth.
Suguru's breathy loud groan of your name makes your cunt drip down your thighs. He sounds so beautiful it's almost a pity you have to smother him with your pussy.
strawberry brat all works
#jjk x reader#jjk x y/n#jjk x you#jujutsu kaisen#jujustu kaisen#jjk smut#jujutsu kaisen smut#jujutsu kaisen x y/n#jujutsu kaisen x you#jujutsu kaisen x reader#gojo satoru#geto suguru#toji fushiguro#toji x reader#gojo x reader#geto x reader#geto smut#gojo smut#toji smut#toji fushiguro smut#gojo satoru x reader#geto suguru x reader#jjk#toji fushiguro x reader#satoru gojo x reader#suguru geto x reader#geto x you#toji x you#gojo x you#satoru gojo
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Astarion Romance Headcanons 🥀
SFW:
Side glances when you're besides him
Full on staring when you're not
Immediately looking away when you catch him
"You know the way he looks at you, don't you, soldier?"
His pinky itching towards yours when you're walking, wanting to hold your hand but unsure because, is it too much? Will you reject him?
His hands scrunching up your shirt tightly whenever you hug. He's always the last to let go.
You hold on longer and longer each time because he doesn't want to let go.
His kisses are tender and needy.
He likes the warmth of your hands.
Thinking of what tones will suit your perfume the best. He'll gift it to you after all this is over.
He'll sew the holes or tears in your clothes over the night and pretend he doesn't know what happened next morning.
When you move to kiss his cheek he will grimace in annoyance but lean in as you do it.
"Be careful around Astarion, (Tav). He's not serious about you.", the others will warn you. And Astarion will worry you'll heed their words more than his so he'll do so much to prove his love to you, not knowing that you already trust him (even if that is an objectively stupid thing to do lmao).
He started sleeping next to you from the moment you had sex but ever since you've entered the shadowlands, he ends up cuddling in the middle of the night. He misses the sun.
He likes kissing the palm of your hand or its back.
Likes to pack your bag before you leave camp.
"No one's ever going to love me like that again."
Ever since you told him that there's more to him than just beauty and sex, that he's hilarious, for instance, he finds ways to make you laugh. He loves it. He's started being a lot more sarcastic and makes more jokes just to hear your laughter. He'll never admit it, of course. Other than maybe when it's only you two.
Doesn't believe he will be able to love again if you let go of him.
"Don't be so nice to me." he says with round, needy and pleading eyes.
Thinking of ways he can show others you're together so others know you're not available.
Hiding his jealousy, terribly.
He will rip the throat out of anyone with malicious intent towards you.
"I will wait the whole of my life for you, Astarion." He doesn't believe it at first, but the longer you go on without sex the safer he feels and the more he wants you.
NSFW:
He sometimes cries silently at night, wishing he could make love to you without it feeling so tainted. He wants it so badly, but his past experience prohibits it. The pain of wanting something and being unable to have it only because of himself is too much. He blames himself too sometimes. Wishing he could give you more.
"I don't mind waiting.", you'd say.
"I do. I can't have you, no matter how much I want you.", he'd say.
When you cuddle him sensing he's upset, he will bury his face in your neck to hide his tears. The smell of you is comforting.
Needing you everytime you're tender with him.
Getting aroused when you hug during a kiss.
Wanting to kiss your skin all over, to make you cry from pleasure as you bury your face in his neck.
Wanting you to hold on to him for dear life as you climax.
When he's finally comfortable enough and takes charge of his own sexuality, he'll be so needy.
Realising that the two nights he had sex with you were nothing compared to how good making love to you feels.
When you give up all control to him, letting him do to you as he wants, the pleasure is almost too much bear. The power he feels is palpable and knowing it is you who trusts him so much will drive him near mad.
He will lose control many times so you have a safe word.
You both think of the stupidest word possible as a safe word. Something that makes you both laugh when it's used.
He likes over stimulating you, making you beg and he'll kiss you to calm you.
"It's okay, you can do it, darling.", he'll say stroking you even further and kissing your tears.
"Does that feel good, my love?"
The more you beg the more he loves it.
He likes playing with your hands, holding them in his, touching your fingers, comparing them to his while you rest on his chest, still warm from him being inside of you.
Resting his head against your chest to hear your heartbeat.
Staring at your face and body intently. Taking in every little reaction you make and replaying them over in his head throughout the day.
Staring at you longingly when you're both with the squad, failing terribly at focusing in battle or conversation.
Getting aroused when you're covered in blood.
Seeing you fighting, in general, turns him on. The smell of your sweat, your rapid heart beat, the way your body moves, all of it now only reminds him of making love to you.
Telling you to say his name whenever he's feeling good and you'll chant it as you cum. He loves how it sounds from your lips.
Resting his forehead against yours as he's close to cumming.
"Look at me.", he'll command you.
He likes when your hands rake his hair, pull his hair, tug it whatever. That slight bit of pain arouses him. Better yet, if you bury your nails into his skin.
He likes to look at you falling asleep. It's such a gentle thing. How can someone so strong otherwise be so soft around him? Why him? Why did someone like you choose someone like him? He can't believe he has you.
https://archiveofourown.org/works/50833876/chapters/128419966 I am updating these hcs on my ao3, if anyone is interested!
#i've never written gender neutral reader before so im sorry if i messed up >.<#astarion#bg3#Astarion Ancunin#Bg3 astarion#Baldur's gate 3#baldurs gate 3#Baldur's gate 3 astarion#astarion angst#astarion and tav#Astarion romance#astarion pov#astarion spoilers#astarion x reader#astarion bg3#astarion x tav#astarion analysis#baldurs gate#astarion hc#astarion headcanon#astarion fanfic
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ATSV HEADCANON: they get jealous . . . ☆
warnings - mainly just fluff, maybe a hint of yandere if you squint, insecurities, gender neutral reader, no use of y/n or reader and jealousy from our fave spiders.
word count - 2.4k
main masterlist <33 | proof read?: yes.
based off of this request: jealous hc !!
. . . ☆ miles morals!e-1610
He'll try and ignore the nasty feeling of jealousy but it's tough when all he can think about is how joyous you look spending time with another guy that isn't him.
It slowly eats away at him the more time you two spend away from each other, and sooner or later you'd notice the change in his demeanor. He was quieter, his greetings weren't the same, and his energy constantly seemed low. Every time you said something he'd reply with a simple hum of acknowledgment and if you were trying to cheer him up with a corny joke the only thing you'd receive was a faulty breath from his lips and a lopsided grin.
His hugs weren't bone-crushing anymore, his texts were in one-words, and even when you two shared a class he acted different. Instead of the usual passing notes and quiet laughter at inside jokes, he simply turned his body towards the window and stayed quiet. He didn't spare a single glance in your direction until the bell rang. Even then he didn't look at you, blankly staring at the floor while gathering his things and blearily walking out with slouched shoulders.
So many confusing thoughts and hurt feelings from made-up scenarios circled around his brain. He wanted to talk to you so badly and just make sure everything was okay. He just didn't know how to approach it, so it continued to eat at him until you confronted him about it.
You saw him walking his usual route towards his place and couldn't help but chase him down. You constantly pestered him and asked him questions to get to the root of the problem but all he did was respond with simple phrases like "I'm fine.", "M' just tired.", and "Nah, I'm good."
Your dedication and unwillingness to let him go home angry finally paid off when he snapped. His words jumbling and his hands flailing in the air as he unleashed every thought and feeling that led to that moment.
Once he finished his rant, you two stood across from each other in complete silence. His chest lifted up and down as if he was exhausted. No words could come to your mouth, but your legs moved without hesitation and before you knew it your arms engulfed him in a tight hug. You felt bad for not being able to express how you felt in words but all miles needed was reassurance and your arms being wrapped around him was more than enough.
. . . ☆ miles morales! e-42
Miles is very straight-forward and blunt. He speaks his mind, which can be a blessing and a curse. With his over-protective nature and blank-like expressions he's more intimidating than most, especially when confronting people he thinks are getting too chummy with you. If a guy is checking you out, miles will speak up before you even notice. "ay, you got a starin' problem or sum?" in situations like these he tends to get touchier with you. Either resting a hand on your hip or hanging his arm over your shoulders and pulling you into his side.
Miles has a certain phrase that he says whenever you scold him for being so confrontational. "They gon have to get through me to get to you." and he tends to stand on that word.
Miles isn't shy of confronting people, or even using violence when it comes down to it. He prefers to handle situations like these with as least violence as possible. He doesn't want to subject you to that kind of thing, if anything he wants to keep you away from it. It's why he's so protective of you and also why you don't know he's the prowler.
You were walking home late at night all by yourself, and as much as you wanted miles to be there with you, he couldn't. You texted him letting him know you'd be staying late after school because of a project. He mentioned how he wouldn't want you walking home by yourself, especially so late at night. So, he decided he'd drive you back home on his motorcycle.
But when the time came for him to pick you up, you were left stranded. He never returned your countless calls or text messages which led into you walking back home all by yourself. Uncomfortable would be an understatement to describe the way you felt as you whisked your way passed sketchy groups of people with your head down. You took shortcuts and turned into ally's to get away from any potential threats not knowing you'd walk right into the hands of one.
A tall lanky man with sunken eyes somehow cornered you in-between the brick wall of a random apartment complex. You were terrified. Your legs grew weak, and your nose started to sting in warning of the incoming tears. All you could do was push your body as far as you possibly could into the wall behind you. Desperately hoping it would engulf you and take you as far away as possible from the situation.
You shut your eyes, bracing for whatever torturous impact to come. Fortunately, it never did. Instead you felt a swift gust of wind past you and the sound of a hard thud paired with a low groan. You cracked your eyes open only to see the mask of the most-feared vigilante in New York. He walked closer and closer until he was finally hovering over you, his mask nearly touching your nose.
As you stood frozen in shock, a clawed hand rested next to your face. "What I say? They gotta get through me to get to you."
. . . ☆ gwen stacy
Gwen is a liar. You can ask her if she's jealous and she'd respond with a scoff and wobbly smirk, scratching the side of her head before replying with something along the lines of "Jealous? No, way." when in reality she's seething. She wants to be completely secure and unbothered like Hobie, but there's always this nagging voice in the back of her head that fills her with annoyance and bitterness.
When someone shows any type of romantic interest in you she'll get tense and her cool facade will be replaced by her visible discomfort. She knows you love her and is continuously reminded when you shut down any confessions, but that painful uneasiness still comes no matter what.
Depending on what mood she's in that day she'll either tense up and shy away from the situation or desperately try to avert your attention back to her.
When one of your classmates walks up to you complimenting you and eyeing you up and down, Gwen's hand that was loosely holding yours fell to her side before returning to her jacket pocket. Her shoulders squared to her ears as she quietly sighed and rocked back and forth on the balls of her feet. She avoided eye-contact with you and the person, choosing to look around the hallway as if she wasn't eaves-dropping into the conversation. (she was)
Once the person leaves she'll grab your hand and start pulling you towards the exit "that was weird, right?" she'd murmured half-jokingly while nudging her shoulder with yours.
The next time you and that person interact is when Gwen is over your place. Once you excuse yourself from the conversation and take the call from your classmate, Gwen once again gets antsy. But she's much more combative this time around. She'll snatch her drumsticks up and start tapping on any and all surfaces she can reach. Calling out your name to get your attention so you can focus on her instead of your classmate.
All in all it really depends on what mood you catch her in. She can either be awkward and tense or combative and loud. At the end of the day all she wants is your attention.
. . . ☆ pavitr prabhakar
Pavitr is quite secure in himself and in the relationship, but he does get jealous on occasion. Never from a situation of you simply getting hit on or someone complimenting you, more so from his own insecurities and made-up scenarios that he plays in his head.
He enjoys the time you two have together fully enveloped in each others presence. So, when that time gets interrupted by someone he gets sulky. Time is already very limited for pavitr. With school and his spider duties on top of it he doesn't have as much time to spend with you as he wants. So once he gets you alone he doesn't want a single distraction to interrupt your private time.
A part of him feels guilty that he isn't able to spend much time with you. He has a small insecurity that pops up every now and then, telling himself that you deserve someone who's more attentive and available to your needs. He wants to be that man for you but his responsibilities prevent him from doing so.
You've already mentioned to Pav that you understand he's a busy man with a hefty schedule, so any time you two spend together is valued and cherished. It makes him happy that you're so forgiving and transparent but that doesn't stop the self-shaming thoughts of how bad of a boyfriend he sometimes thinks he is.
Pavitr has a habit of getting you gifts. When his guilty conscience is eating at him for missing out on a romantic date or simple hangout, he tends to buy you more gifts than usual. A single rose will turn into a bouquet, A cute hand-beaded bracelet will turn into a full jewelry set, a bedazzled headband will turn into multiple hair scrunchies and a full pack of hair care.
Once you've noticed this habit you were quick to shut it down, you didn't want him spending money every time he felt bad for having to bail and do his spider duties.
All he needs is to be pampered and reminded that what you want is him, and only him. Tell him how much you adore him and smuggle him in affection. Whether it be words of affirmation, quality time, or physical touch, Pavitr will immediately be putty in your hands. Just being engulfed by you and having you dote on him will immediately wash away any and all bad thoughts.
. . . ☆ hobie brown
Hobie doesn't really get jealous. He's extremely secure in himself and the relationship. If you're the type of person who likes to flirt for fun or is just naturally flirty, he wouldn't even bat an eye at you coyly chatting with another person.
Hobie knows you only have eyes for him so he never gets defensive or jealous by your coquettish attitude with others. You know where home is and at the end of the day you always return. But that's only with flirting. If you tend to get touchy or make-out with other people then he would get annoyed and slightly agitated. Especially if you'd established there was something between you two.
He wouldn't particularly mind other people flirting with you unless someone was genuinely being creepy and overbearing. He wouldn't want you to be uncomfortable for any reason in any situation. So, seeing you nervously fiddle with your hands or curl into yourself when certain advances were made would enrage him to an extent. These are the times Hobie will take on a more defensive/protective role.
He doesn't get into many brawls (mainly because he doesn't have to) He's quite intimidating so when he tells someone to back down they're gonna back down, quickly and efficiently. If anyone had the balls to step to Hobie in a threatening way they'd def be met with more than they could handle.
But in most situations Hobie usually just plays along with the flirting. He knows you're a good piece of eye-candy so it's not surprising to him whenever you get hit on. His chest also can't help but swell in pride when you mention that you have a partner, who just so happens to be Hobie.
Imagine you're both at the pub. Sitting at the bar, and leaning into each other with lovesick smiles. The sweet exchange of teasing words was interrupted by the gruff voice of the bartender setting down an alcoholic drink you weren't really familiar with. "Compliments from the gentleman over there." he murmured, tilting his head towards a man who sat across the bar. Before you could even fully react Hobie grabbed the glass and downed it within seconds. "Cheers, mate." he responded with a smile while lifting the glass in the air.
You just grow to love and laugh at his antics.
. . . ☆ miguel o'hara
You'll know he's jealous. Miguel is very obvious when he's bothered by something, even when he tries to hide it.
His movements are more stiff than usual and if you're close enough you can hear him lowly spitting profanities in his native tongue. Not to mention when he gets jealous to the point he's genuinely angry his claws will shoot out. There are multiple claw marks on couches and different desks at the headquarters that have yet to be fixed.
He angry pouts but he doesn't really know it. Whenever you're having a conversation with someone and it's prolonged for a little too long or the person you're speaking to is showing some type of interest in you, Miguel will just tower over you from behind with crossed arms and an annoyed look. as he stares the person down.
You're the most important thing in Miguel's life. He's already lost so much in different lifetimes and a part of him feels like he should live his life alone, suffering without a family or a lover simply because he feels like he doesn't deserve it, he doesn't deserve you.
There will be times where he tries to push you away, a part of him feels like if he pushes you away enough and tries to emotionally disconnect from the relationship you leaving him won't hurt as much. You have to be patient and reassure him that you're not going anywhere. The only reason he does stuff like that is because a small part of him genuinely believes you'll leave him at some point.
He tends to be overbearing when he gets jealous. Pushing you behind him when someone starts to be a bit suggestive, staring down anyone who he thinks is getting too comfortable with you, and butting in convos to speak for you when he's close to going over the edge.
Miguel can be overprotective and extremely overbearing at times, but it's always because he has your best interest in mind. He needs you in his life and to keep you he will deflect any and all threats that try and take you away.
A/N🪷: whenever i think of e-42 miles the killmonger music starts playing in my head lol
this was also a little rushed because i've been busy with work and im a little sleep-deprived, BUT i will come back with another fic soon <3 ty lovelies :)
likes, reblogs, and comments are always appreciated <33
#earth 42 miles morales x reader#miles morales x reader#miles morales headcanons#prowler miles#atsv gwen#gwen x reader#pavitr prabhakar x reader#hobie brown x reader#hobie brown headcanons#miguel o'hara x reader#miguel o'hara headcanons#spiderman across the spiderverse#spiderverse headcanon#spider man: across the spider verse#atsv headcanons
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I think I have a potentially controversial opinion on Aziraphale and the ending.
So one of the things that made me smile so, SO much, was THIS:
That PURE ABSOLUTE UTTER JOY.
We have not seen ANYTHING like that from demon Crowley. We've seen him be drunk and silly, we've seen him be amused, but we've not seen this.
Now, let's consider what we know about Heaven:
It's never fully populated. ALL of the shots are completely devoid of angels, except for a few, who are almost always just getting somewhere and never really talking to each other.
Where I thought the archangels were a tight clan, it really looks like they're super catty and prone to jealousy. No doubt they would stab each other in the back happily if it came down to it. How much of Heaven is like that, if even the archangels all hate each other?
Aziraphale already has a nervous disposition when he meets Crowley. Is he perhaps an angel that NEVER fit in? Is he familiar with being ostracized by his peers? Just how lonely IS Heaven? Crowley seems to be a pretty powerful angel, and HE doesn't even know that it's all getting shut down in 6000 years -- it's like no one talks to anyone.
Aziraphale, during their whole meeting, looks absolutely smitten. At one point, Crowley goes, "Look at you! You're gorgeous!" and Aziraphale looks over with happy surprise, just before realizing he's not looking at him but rather at what he's created. And then, when Crowley starts going on about making suggestions and asking questions, Aziraphale is IMMEDIATELY concerned and doesn't want him to get into trouble.
Aziraphale is hooked on this angel, and I cannot help but think that this is perhaps the first angel who has ever WELCOMED Aziraphale into his company.
He is hooked on this angel, and the way Crowley smiles is with the light of all the stars he's just created, and it's infectious and it brings a smile to Aziraphale's face as well. And then this angel shields him from the oncoming falling stars.
He is hooked on this angel, and then this angel goes and joins the Great Rebellion, and becomes fallen himself.
"You were an angel once," Aziraphale said, softly, at the bandstand. He remembers.
I think it's reasonable to guess that Heaven has never felt so warm as it did in the presence of millions of exploding stars, next to the (arch?)angel that may perhaps be one of the few (only?) to pay him any positive attention.
I think it's reasonable to assume that Heaven was not the same after Crowley fell. I wouldn't be surprised to find out Aziraphale had wondered about the angel, wondered if he was okay. I would imagine that Aziraphale keeps that picture of pure, angelic, unbridled joy somewhere inside of him.
So, really, is it any surprise that threaded throughout EVERY interaction, Aziraphale has this deep-down feeling that Crowley is good? Would it be any surprise that Aziraphale, an angel who goes along with Heaven as far as he can (which isn't always), feels that if HE is still an angel, then what was done to Crowley was a great injustice?
I think it would make sense that we are shown "before the beginning" not just because it is fun, but because THIS is the foundational context for everything Aziraphale thinks Crowley is, everything Crowley enjoys. I think he remembers this moment and wishes he could live there forever. With Crowley. The two of them with this happiness, forever.
But nothing lasts forever, as much as he wishes it did.
I'm not saying Aziraphale was right with what he did to Crowley at the end of s2. There is a lot I think he did wrong. I think he held onto this picture so tightly, he didn't realize that Crowley had long since let it go, and painted a new one with Aziraphale with all the shades of grey he picked up as he sauntered (or plummeted) vaguely downward (into a pool of boiling sulfur).
I don't think he was right, but I do think he is understandable. I think there was a lot of selfishness, but also some misguided selflessness too. I watched that first scene with angelic Crowley and my heart actually broke a little, because I thought, "What a shame this joy was taken away from him."
I think Aziraphale is trying to right the injustice he feels has been done. But I also think Aziraphale doesn't realize that Crowley can never go back. The concept of falling never crossed Crowley's mind when he suggested that he ask a few questions, and he will NEVER get that kind of innocence back. And Aziraphale doesn't understand, because Heaven has clearly always just been that way for him (he is already aware of the danger of asking questions).
Crowley does not want to go back because he can never go back. He can never be the same angel he was when he thought he could build a universal machine that would crank out stars for eons and eons. He can never be the same angel he was when he thought he could make some suggestions and ask some questions and co-create with THE Creator.
Crowley understands that, and Aziraphale doesn't. But I can understand why Aziraphale would want to try. And I think it's all because of this:
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bright red lust
pairing: miguel o'hara x f!trophy wife! reader
warnings: smut, car limo sex, misogynistic undertones (reader feels good about being a trophy wife), pda, teasing, dryhumping, unprotected sex, creampie, cowgirl
summary: you attend a gala with miguel and tease him until he finally gets you to himself in his limo
translation: "que rico" = 'how nice'
Any woman’s dream is to be his wife. For his rank, his money, his reputation, his everything. And it feels so good to know that he's so desired.
Because you’re at his side, not them. It’s you whom he spends his money on. It’s you whom he buys all the exquisite dresses and gowns for, all the best things you could ever want or need. It’s you whom he makes love to after a tiring day. Or after you wake up. Or anytime, for that matter.
You’re irreplaceable, but at the same time at his disposal. You don’t see it as a price paid but rather as a bonus. You’ve never been pampered so good before, loved so good, fucked so good.
So that’s why, whenever he has a new gala or special event to attend, you let him pick your dress out of all the various selections you spend so much time on finding.
“Too long.” he dismisses, vision darting from your mauve-satin covered legs to your face. He’s manspreading on the king size bed of your presidential hotel room, hair dishevelled and half lidded eyes sleepy, relaxed.
“You’re so picky today. I only got a few more!” You giggle with a faux offended expression. Behind the façade of worry that he won’t be satisfied with any of the looks, you secretly love these little fashion runaway sessions, feeling like his own personal top model, trying out different outfits for him. If you weren’t in a hurry, you wouldn’t be able to resist the urge to sit on his lap and accidentally grind your ass on his crotch when you got up as part of the little show.
“Mm.” He hums, seemingly unaffected by your playful frustration. He knows you love it when he acts so pretentious and superior, but he loves you, and he loves the enthusiasm with which you show him everything. “Next, bebita. This one’s sombre.”
After a few minutes and struggles, you manage to pull on the pièce de résistance; a bright, blood-red skin tight satin dress. Miguel’s eyes widen at the sight of you, brows raised in silent approval and admiration. The length isn’t a problem this time, your beautiful legs and thighs peeking out with every step through the long slit on the right. The fabric is wrapped so deliciously around your breasts, slightly pushing them up together, plump and tantalising.
"Maybe this one's a bit too much? I-"
"Do a 360." His eyes lit up, attentive and pleased. You twirl, making sure to slightly stick your ass out, checking yourself out in a full body mirror nearby.
"Me gusta." He gets up from the bed, gripping your waist to place a needy kiss on your cheek, before placing his lips on your own. You take his face in your hands, melting into his embrace. “This is the one.” His deep, low whisper sends shivers up your spine, your brain short circuiting. Who are you to say no to him? To those pretty, dark brown, red-tinted eyes?
"I'm gonna go get ready now. Thank you, papi." You turn around, yelping as he doesn't miss the opportunity to smack your ass as you do, smirking to himself.
When you finally arrive at the gala, you get out of your limo and start flaunting your exquisite dress, proud and flashing. You feel Miguel instantly cling to you, a secure, strong hand on your waist, its touch fervent and possessive.
He doesn’t fail to notice all the other spiders gawk at you, turning their heads too sharply just to catch a glimpse of his beautiful wife. All the lingering looks, the whispered words of admiration, all for you. The hand on the dip of your waist tenses, both in immeasurable pride and a hint of stinging jealousy. But it felt amazing.
All the comments, the remarks.
“Can’t believe he pulled such a pretty thing.”
“Imagine coming home at the end of the day to her.”
“Maybe being the leader of Spider-Society has its perks.”
They thought he wouldn’t ever hear them, but his enhanced senses have little to no limits. He feels his pants slightly tighten at the thought that so many other men want you. And yet, it’s his cock that you beg for, late at night.
And you’re aware of this weakness of his. You know that showing everyone that you’re his gets him hard in no time. And as the brat you are, you can’t help it. Especially not when all eyes are on you two. Not when the paparazzi’s come in.
You run a cursory hand from his chest to his abdomen, arching your back, pretty figure on display for the pictures. Bolder. Your hand finds his cheek, his jaw, your eyes never leaving him. You enjoy feeling like an accessory, something that accentuates him, his masculinity. Something that belongs to him.
No other man has ever made you feel this way.
You gesture to him to lean down, your heels still not enough for you to be able to reach his face without his aid. He does, and you place a tantalising peck on his cheek, light enough so that your bright lipstick doesn’t transfer.
Feeling him stiffen, unsure of your teasing, you decide to risk it and lean your face down to the crook of his neck.
Hundreds of photographs flash as you kiss his neck, your soft lips lingering just a second too late, only for a red print to remain plastered on his skin, for everyone to see.
He turns to you with an expression worth a thousand words. You know that face all too well.
As soon as you get back in the limo following the after-party, you wave good-bye to all your acquaintances and friends. The driver takes a turn and exits the flash-lit area.
Turning to look at Miguel, any conversation or small talk on the event you just attended gets smushed into a heated kiss you both longed for, his hands on your hips, pulling you into him on the back seat, your arms thrown over his shoulders.
When he grabs your thigh, you waste no time in lifting your leg over his waist, straddling him without breaking away from the kiss.
His warm hands slide underneath the red satin, grabbing at the globes of your ass greedily. You start grinding on him, your damp panties rubbing onto his erection in his pants.
Your breasts nearly pop out of your dress during the hazy make out session, and he parts from your lips to start kissing down your neck, stealing a glance down at them. Throwing your head back, your body turns into putty in his strong arms. He licks and kisses at the delicate skin of the tops of your tits, slowly and reflexively grinding up into your heat.
You moan his name, your breathing getting heavy.
He knows that having you in risky places only makes you even wetter for him, and he can't get enough.
"Ah! Oh- Miguel!" You whimper as a heavy hand smacks your ass, making you jerk forward into him, your tender body smushed against him so perfectly.
"Here? Are you sur-"
"Here, yes." Hot, shallow breaths fan your neck as he speaks in between kisses and gentle bites. "Can't wait any longer."
Your hands fumble with his belt and he quickly rips your panties at the seam, making a hole over your slit. Panting and rushing, you pull his hard, meaty cock out and align it with your dripping cunt. You feel him slip into you, nice and slow, filling you up with the familiar euphoria you have craved so ardently for the whole night.
He groans as he enters you, wet, warm and tight. Just when you were getting adjusted to his size, the limo goes over a speed bump and his cock thrusts up into you with the turbulence, its bulbous tip kissing your cervix.
You feel him deep in your guts, and as you begin riding him, he starts to buck his hips up into you, making you see stars.
"Que rico", he pants out, whispered, "having a pretty thing like you all over me." He
Keeping the thrusts quick and shallow, so as not to make your shenanigans too obvious, you bounce yourself on his cock; at first for his pleasure alone. Seeing him drowned in ecstasy will eventually being you your own pleasure as well.
All until he brings a hand to your swollen clit, rubbing furiously, throwing you over the edge in mere seconds. You come all over his dick, eyes rolling back, his name falling off you tongue in a strangled moan, sweet music to his ears.
He feels your pussy pulsate oh so deliciously around his cock, and it doesn't take him much longer to also release his load in your velvet walls, painting your insides white, claiming you as his.
As soon as he comes down, catching his breath, he smothers you with another fierce kiss, groaning into your mouth as you stir with his still sensitive cock inside you.
"We should do this again sometime, Mr. O'Hara." You tease, your lips straying away to nibble at his pulse point.
"Oh, we will, bebita."
divider by @cafekitsune as always
a/n: finally wrote this 7 mesozoic eras after it was requested sorry man
#miguel o'hara#miguel o'hara x reader#miguel o'hara smut#miguel o’hara x reader#miguel o'hara imagine#miguel ohara x reader#miguel ohara#miguel o'hara x reader one shot#miguel o hara#atsv miguel#miguel smut#miguel o'hara x you#miguel o’hara smut#miguel spiderverse#miguel spiderman#miguel x reader#spider man 2099#spiderman 2099#spiderman 2099 x reader#across the spiderverse#spider verse
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Jealousy
Request: Can I please request a Cooper x Fem reader comfort angst romance where the sweet reader is infatuated with Cooper (she has a thing for older men)The sweet reader is always doing unnecessary favors for him, like secretly giving him discounts on rad away and supplies, taking care of dog meat, and getting him information on bounties. Until he brings along Lucy, misunderstanding the whole situation, the reader’s heart breaks thinking the worst and slowly stops trying and acting cold and distant, making Cooper notice that the only tolerable person he has ever known in this god forsaken world is ignoring him. (Feel free to add or change anything just pls feed into my delusions😭 I just want some hardcore romance with our cowboy) Also can u pls add that the reader also has a cute southern accent?
Cooper Howard/The Ghoul x f!reader
Description: As a wandering trader, you've made a lot of strange friends. Among them, Ghouls, but there is one in particular that is your favorite.
Notes: I hope I did this justice for you anon!
The Wasteland was brutal, and even you knew it was a bad idea to trek it alone, but you had a job to do. However, as you found yourself in front of your old friend Roger's home you felt like the Wastelands weren't all that bad.
"My name.. is Roger." You heard him repeating between snarls.
You stopped in your tracks outside the door. "He's turning," You thought to yourself as you rummaged through your pack looking for any vials of Radaway. You were all out. Sighing, you put your hand on your holster before slowly making your way inside to check on your friend.
"Rog?" You ask as you round the corner to find him sitting in the dirt.
"Oh hey," he said relieved. "My savior. Do you have any vials"
"I don't have any, Rog." You replied sadly.
"Oh." He whispered. "You should probably get out of here then. It's not safe for little girls like you to be in the Wastelands alone." He said sadly, leaving out the bit you both knew, you weren't safe with HIM alone.
Before you could respond, you heard quiet footsteps down the corridor. "Who else is here?" You thought to yourself as your hand went back to your holster. Peaking your head around the corner you find none other than Cooper Howard and... a vaultie? You did very little to hide the confusion on your face as you looked between the two.
"Hey, you." You said to Cooper. "What are you doing here?"
"Could ask you the same thing, sweetheart." He responds, pushing the vaultie through the doorway and making his way to Roger.
"Hey Rog," Cooper greets him.
"Hey. Hey." Rogers laughs, relieved to see his friend. "Fancy seeing you here. You out for that bounty, too, huh?"
"Yep," Cooper responds as he knelt in front of his friend.
You all stand there in silence for a bit, listening to Roger snarl and whip his head around.
"Oh, shit," Roger says between wails.
"How you feeling?" Cooper asks quietly, already knowing the answer.
"Oh.. you know," Roger replied. "It's hard out here. Dang smoothies can be so unkind. I see you got a smoothie of your own." He says as he looks over at the vaultie.
You also turn to look at the vaultie, a look of displeasure on your face. "A smoothie of your own." Repeating over and over in your head. You wanted to be his smoothie. You and Cooper never really started a relationship, but you thought you were heading in that direction. You gave him a generous discount on Radaway since you developed a little crush on him, and he would always spend more time than necessary with you whenever you crossed paths. He was always fussing after you and was always telling you how you were too reckless. In his eyes, everything was too dangerous for you. He knew how you felt about him, and you THOUGHT you knew how he felt about you, but this vaultie threw a wrench in everything. "Maybe I was wrong. Maybe he doesn't like me." You thought to yourself while eyeing her up. You were so lost in thought that you could barely hear Roger snarling next to you.
"You're turning," Cooper says reluctantly, his voice pulling you from your thoughts.
"Yeah maybe, maybe." Roger says on the verge of tears, "Maybe. Hey, you don't happen to have any vials, do you? Y/n is all out."
Cooper's eyes met yours as you nodded your head sadly.
"Just one little puff and I'll be back on my feet. You know I'm good for it." Roger pleaded.
"I'm sorry Roger I am all out," Cooper says, looking back toward his friend.
"That's okay. That's okay." Roger mumbles. "Though, um, you and y/n and your smooth-faced friend, you um... you might want to clear out before things get ugly."
You flinch as you hear Roger snarl again, each time he was getting louder and louder. You look down at your feet with tears in your eyes.
"I did okay. 28 years since I first started showing," Roger said looking between you and Cooper, before snarling again. "Oh, hell! Not as long as you though." He pointed proudly at Cooper, "You've outlasted us all. How long since you first started Wastelanding?"
"A long time," Cooper responds while shaking his head.
"That's a lot of vials," Roger said quietly.
"Well I've always been good at making money, Roger." Cooper exhales as he stands up. "Say, you remember how good food used to taste?"
"Yeah, BlamCo Mac and Cheese!" Roger says excitedly.
"Ice Cream and Apple Pie." Cooper countered.
Roger laughed, a real laugh. He was happy. "Apple Pie is not nearly as sweet as young Y/n's southern accent though." He says smiling up at you. "You know, my mom used to -"
Before you knew what happened, Roger's brains were all over the wall. You looked up at Cooper with tears in your eyes. You knew it had to be done. You knew it was mercy, but it still hurt.
"Why did you do that?" The vaultie asked. "He was sick."
"He wasn't gonna get better." You responded dryly.
"You usually don't go all the way out here sweetheart, not on your own. What are you up to?" Cooper asks you as he picks up Roger's body and places it in a position where he easily access what he needs.
You don't respond. Between the jealousy brewing in your stomach at the vaultie next to you and the sadness about Roger, you couldn't find the words you wanted to say.
"Stop. Stop Stop." The vaultie pleaded, "Please, I know it's hard out here but you don't, you don't have, you don't have to resort to... to..."
Before he could respond you quickly made your way out of the building for some fresh air. You could hear their voices inside, but you decided to drown them out by humming to yourself. You didn't need to see him take apart Roger, and you definitely couldn't stand the sound of her voice any longer. You knew you should get walking, you were low on supplies and they would be leaving the building soon. You didn't want to face them again, but it felt like there were bricks in your boots. As exhaustion hit you, you sat down in the sand and closed your eyes, losing track of time.
"Hey," You hear Cooper say as he puts his hand on your shoulder. "You good, sweetheart?"
'Fine." You mumbled out. "You and your smoothie should get going." The venom in your voice was loud and clear, but you didn't care.
"That's what got ya panties in a bunch?" Cooper laughed.
You glared up at him in response. "Don't laugh at me, Cooper."
"I am taking her to SuperDuperMart. Not keepin’ her as a pet.” Cooper smiles as he offers you his hand.
"Oh," You responded quietly, feeling stupid.
"What is SuperDuperMart?" You heard the vaultie ask, but the two of you completely ignored her.
"No one could ever replace you, sweetheart," Cooper says as he cups your face.
You couldn't help the smile that graced your face at his words, and the blush that creeped up your neck.
He smiled when he noticed the way your eyes flickered towards his lips.
"When I get my hands on some Radaway, I'll show you just how much you mean to me." You whispered.
"Lookin' forward to it." He whispered back.
The two of you were so caught up in each other that you didn't even notice the look of pure disgust on the vaultie's face as she watched your interaction. Some people may never understand why you like Cooper so much, but honestly? You couldn't give a damn.
Tag list: @sitkafay
#the ghoul fallout#fallout tv series#fallout#the ghoul x reader#cooper howard x reader#cooper howard
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𝐩𝐮𝐭 𝐦𝐲 𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐞 𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐨𝐩 𝐨𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 | 𝐬𝐚𝐧𝐣𝐢 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 (𝐬𝐧𝐞𝐚𝐤 𝐩𝐞𝐞𝐤)
𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 as much as you wanted to stay by his side, you couldn't bear the thought of watching him fall in love with other women while you're stuck at the kitchen washing dishes and measuring ingredients. so you dreamt of leaving, of traveling to different islands to share your lovely songs and tunes; but the more your desire to leave grows, the more sanji finds himself drowning in your warmth.
or,
you and sanji over the years, wherein five times you tried to leave him and the one time you finally did, despite his refusal to let you go.
𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬 musician reader, 5 + 1 things, pining, unrequited love, not actually unrequited love, angst, fluff, hurt/comfort, angst with a happy ending
𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 i swear i cannot escape a brainrot whenever i watch a new show. this automatically wrote itself, i don't even remember how i came up with this idea. anyway, i'm surprised there aren't many sanji fics that involves the unrequited love trope, seeing that it suits him. or maybe that's just me. this is only a SNEAK PEEK though.
𝐞𝐝𝐢𝐭 full version now published here!
You accepted it years ago.
You accepted the fact that you somehow fell in love with Sanji Vinsmoke along your weird journey of working in a sea restaurant full of former pirates and making music while at it. How the pesky feelings grew and wrapped themselves around your aching heart, you didn't know. Maybe it was when he learned to cook your favorite food and gave it to you afterwards, or the way his crystal blue eyes reminded you of snowflakes every winter.
Or maybe it was when he pulled your hair out of jealousy the moment he learned that Zeff would be taking in another child in his care, but brushed it and even braided it after the latter cleared the misunderstanding. Maybe it was when he supported you in your dreams and told you they weren't silly, maybe it was when he fought off drunk men that were trying to hit on you. Or maybe it was the way his voice would drop an octave lower whenever he asks you for a favor. The list could go on and on and you still wouldn't know the reason why. It doesn't matter anyway. You tripped, you fell, and now you're pining.
Drying off the last of the plates, you washed your own hands after and patted them dry on your skirt. You were the last one to leave the kitchen, the other staff already back in their quarters after a long, exhausting day of cooking. You fixed the signature blue bandana tied in your hair then went on your way towards the upper deck.
You weren't blessed with a talent in cooking, so you offered to do chores instead. Washing the dishes, cleaning the restaurant, and doing the laundry were few of the things you do in the Baratie. You can't say that you enjoy it, but you were beyond grateful that Zeff gave you a chance despite his opposition to let a woman work inside his restaurant.
As you were about to go to the newly laundered clothes you hung on a thin wire earlier that morning, you heard two voices speaking. You also smelled cigarette smoke wafting through the air, and you only knew one person who could be smoking at this hour. Your breath hitched in anticipation.
"You bringing a woman to your bed again, Sanji?" The other person asked playfully, but there was a hint of disbelief in his voice. You carefully took a peek so you won't accidentally reveal yourself and be accused of eavesdropping. Two people came into view with their backs facing you.
"Now, what are you talking about, Patty? I am a gentleman. I only had a nice chat with the lovely lady and escorted her back to her ship." Sanji interjected, a cigarette hanging on his lips.
Patty huffed. "I didn't know that chatting included kiss marks on jawlines."
This caused Sanji to laugh and say, "Not my fault she was charmed by my food."
"The boss man ain't gonna like it when he finds out about this."
"He's not gonna find out." Sanji assured him, wiping off the said kiss mark on his jaw. You stared at him as he did so, and you pitied the woman who planted that kiss, knowing she was just one of the many beautiful ladies Sanji had flirted with before. However, a tinge of pain in your chest said otherwise, taunting you that it was not pity you're feeling, but foul jealousy.
"Why don't you look for more decent women, eh? How about 'little lass' for a change?" Patty suddenly suggested.
It was like someone had hit your stomach with one of the metal pans in the kitchen with the way it lurched in surprise and nervousness. Your heartbeat started to quicken the longer you waited for his response, making your grip on your skirt tighter. In moments like these, you allowed yourself to hope, to wish that he saw something in you and that he finds you beautiful and lovely enough to be the person standing by his side.
But his answer made all that hope crumble down into nothing but dust.
"I don't see her that way." Sanji said after a long stretch of silence, taking a long drag from the cigarette then releasing the smoke in a single breath.
Ah.
You blinked repeatedly, trying to keep the tears from forming. It's always been like this, so why can't you get used to it? Taking a deep breath, you gulped away the knot forming in your throat and decided to leave. You can grab the clothes later.
"You're too kind for him." Someone behind you spoke, making you jump and tense up. Turning around, you saw Zeff looking at you with an unreadable emotion in his eyes and his hands on his hips, almost like he knew your secret. Of course he does. He always sees everything.
You stumbled on your words. "Sir?"
"That boy is always up to something." He began, switching his attention to Sanji. "One minute he's stubbornly immature in the kitchen, and the next he'll be a thirsty man staring at women like they're liquid booze."
Clearing your throat, you forced a smile.
"Well, he can be a lot sometimes." You agreed, remembering the days when the two of you would fight over irrelevant matters. Then you chuckled and continued, "But he's kind. He's gentle, and lovely, like a freshly made poem you keep repeating in your head. But then he's also confusing, hot-headed, and reckless. He's like the sea, isn't he? Calm yet wrapped with mystery, dangerous yet beautiful..."
You trailed off, an unbearable heat rising up your cheeks and neck once you slowly began to realize that you just ranted out your feelings to the head chef. You glanced at him with wide eyes, preparing to see a disgusted look on his face; however, Zeff didn't appear to be repulsed by your little speech. In fact, the corners of his lips were slightly quirked up.
"But I cannot swim. If I were to drown, he wouldn't save me." You quickly added, hoping to shut down the topic.
He sighed. "You will meet someone who deserves you as much as you deserve them, little lass." He simply said. He then laid his hand out, and on his palm was a little box poorly tied with a ribbon. "Here, for you."
Altnough you were a bit confused at the random gift, you accepted it and cradled the box to your chest. "I'll be okay, Zeff." You insisted, grinning cheekily. "When I become famous, I'll sing my songs here in Baratie, and people would flood the restaurant to hear my singing. And to eat your food too, of course."
The head chef nodded, relief flooding his expression. "I look forward to that." He said while awkwardly returning your smile.
That night, when you were sure that everyone in the Baratie was asleep, you opened the loose floorboard on the floors of your bedroom and grabbed the wooden box you kept hidden for a long time now. You opened the lid and began counting the Berry you saved for the past few months.
Tomorrow was the perfect day to leave.
You just can't stay here. Yes, you had a roof over your head, delicious food to eat everyday, and clean clothes to wear but you were so miserable. This wasn't the life you wanted. You wish to go out there, sing your heart out, and fall in love with someone who actually loves you back.
A knock on your door made you freeze. You held your breath as the person on the other side continued to knock a few more times. "You awake?"
Pain surged through your veins, your chest twisting in agony. Sanji.
"You didn't come down for dinner. I guess you're too tired, hmm?" He said, his muffled voice gentle, and the sound almost prompted you to stand up and open the door for him. But you dug your fingernails in your palms and resisted, because you can't just let this opportunity pass by.
You heard a brief clinking sound before Sanji spoke again, "Sweet dreams, ange."
Once his footsteps faded away, you cautiously moved towards your door and opened it as quietly as you can. There, on the floor, was a small plate with a slice of your favorite dessert: angel's food cake, topped with fresh cream and strawberries.
You bent down and saw a note beside the plate. And when you got to read the contents of the note, you burst into tears and sobs that wracked down your entire body.
Happy Birthday
— S.
You ate the cake with tears silently falling down your cheeks, and that was the first time you failed to leave Sanji Vinsmoke.
again, this is only a sneak peek of the actual fic, i'm currently halfway in completing it. please let me know if you want to read it, because i might publish it next week. if not, i'll just drown in sorrow and self-pity.
#opla#opla x reader#opla x y/n#one piece#one piece live action#opla sanji#one piece sanji#sanji#vinsmoke sanji#sanji live action#sanji x reader#sanji x you#sanji x y/n#opla sanji x reader#angst#one piece sanji x reader#ਏਓ ladadiida
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more sunshine! gojo and grumpy!f reader pleaseeeeeeee I ship so hard
you got it baby
her rage keeps him going.
summary: gojo satoru is trying to get his grumpy girlfriend's attention by flirting with another girl at a party. wrong move.
pairing: sunshine!gojo satoru x grumpy!female reader
content warnings: jealousy, reader being a badass, gojo being madly in love, cursing, adult themes at the end, borderline toxic gojo satoru?
Masterlist
-----
"Baby."
"Baby."
"Baby."
"Sugarpie."
"Honeybunch-"
"Yes, Satoru?" You sigh, trying to finish the report you need to give Yaga. The frown deepens on your forehead as Satoru moves to sit in front of you, head leaning in, blocking your view of the paper completely.
"Sato-"
"Let's watch a movie." He blatantly says. "I'm bored."
You take a deep breath, pushing his head away. "I'm kind of in the middle of something, Toru."
Recently Yaga has been giving you more reports to fix. It's the kids' reports that are either too messy or filled with too many unnecessary details. It keeps on piling and piling and piling on top of your own work and you barely have time to do... anything, really.
And Satoru being Satoru, is not interested in paperwork. So you have to pick up his share as well, and it's sending you over the edge.
"Come on~" He whines, "It's been a while since you and I spend time together."
"We live under the same roof," You counter, "We go home and leave for work together every day."
He huffs, "It's not the same and you know it."
You sigh, promising him you'll watch something with him soon, but of course, you being busy, it gets forgotten. And it stays that way for a few days until the spring break party Jujutsu High decides to have.
You haven't properly talked to Satoru since then. You know he's upset that you've been so busy, but there's honestly not much you can do. You can only hope he understands and he'll be a bit more patient until things die down at work.
But of course, it doesn't happen that way.
You have to attend the spring break party just as Satoru is also required to. There aren't many people to begin with, but there are some new faces. New and pretty faces.
Stepping into the hall, you cringe at the sight. The higher ups are looking to create a new impression on the new students. It seems they want to look more approachable and 'trendy', seeing how the hard way didn't work so much with your and Satoru's generation.
It looks like a really bad frat party.
"What in the world..."
"Just drink." Shoko hands you a tequila shot while she downs one herself, "We've done more than enough these past few weeks, who cares what this party is about."
You drink the shot and cringe even more at the sharpness. "Oh God- this is horrible."
"It'll get the job done," Shoko chuckles, already downing her second shot.
Sighing, you scan the room to find Satoru. You figure with the spring break coming, you'll have more free time and you both can finally take a vacation together. As an apology for being so busy lately, you've bought tickets and you want to surprise him.
"Hey, have you seen Sato- Oh you've gotta be kidding me."
In your eyesight is Satoru talking very closely to a woman. She's not anyone you know, but from her body language, she's not anyone you want to know. Your eyes squint to assess the situation -- maybe you're overthinking this? Maybe she's just like Miwa, she just admires him- nope. That hand slowly trailing up and down Satoru's arm is not friendly at all.
And Satoru is allowing all of this?
"Shoko," You call her, "Let's go play darts."
"Uh-oh."
Satoru's doing it on purpose. He knows it will irritate you, and he knows technically he shouldn't be doing this, but you've been so busy lately and he's desperate for your attention.
Borderline toxic? Maybe, but again, he's desperate.
And it's not like he's interested in this girl who's talking to him about something she did the other day -- he can't even remember her name. But when he sees you shooting glares his way, a small smirk plays on his lips because he knows he's caught your eye.
He just didn't expect you to take it into such extreme measures.
One second you're sitting by the bar with Shoko, and suddenly there's a red dart that whooshed its way between Satoru and this girl. The dart is right in front of her eyes, almost scratching her nose.
"Oops," He hears the threat in your tone despite the smile on your face. "Looks like I missed my mark."
"By a mile..." Shoko mutters. The target board isn't even anywhere near where Satoru is standing.
You make your way to Satoru and the girl whose face has turned white. "I'll just take that-" you pull the red dart that's quite stuck in the wall, but not before sparing the girl a cold glare, "and if you'll excuse us, I'd like to have a little talk with my boyfriend here."
Satoru lets you drag him by the arm outside. To be completely honest, he's quite turned on. Seeing your possessiveness over him, your rage, your jealousy, he wants all of it.
"Are you done acting up- mmp!"
Satoru pulls you to him, his hand keeping your neck in place so he can kiss you properly while also not letting you escape. He forces his tongue into your mouth, taking your breath away completely.
"Satoru-"
He shushes you, lifting you from the ground to sit on the bench, your legs straddling his waist while still making out with you.
"I'm not done talking-" You finally push him away with a pant. "What's gotten into you?!"
You notice something poking your ass and you slap his shoulder, "Are you seriously getting turned on right now?!"
"Mm, baby," He tries to kiss you again, "You know I love it when you yell at me."
You scoff and grab his chin roughly. "So you did all of that just because you wanted some attention?"
Satoru gulps.
"Are you really that needy, Satoru? Hm?" You tilt your head, peeling his blindfold off. "I guess I have been neglecting you and your needy cock for a while, huh?"
He nods helplessly.
"I guess it is partially my fault for leaving you unattended for so long," Your hand travels down to grab his cock through his pants. "But just so we're clear, Satoru... don't ever pull that shit again, understand?"
He moans and nods his head again.
"Good." You peck his lips, "You're mine. And I don't let anyone just touch what's mine."
Satoru could come right then and there.
#gojo satoru x reader#gojo satoru#gojo x reader#satoru x you#satoru x reader#gojo angst#gojo fluff#gojo satoru x you#gojo x you#satoru angst#gojo satoru angst#gojo satoru fluff#gojo satoru jjk#gojo x female reader#gojo satoru x female reader
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