#the way my inbox is full of asks from years ago…

[complexbaddie]

Btw your header/top banner image is one of the greatest works of art I've ever laid eyes on fyi

omg thanks!! it took me so long to edit it to get it right even though it’s so simple lol but as for it being a work of art, that’s all loustat 🫶🏽

[entitled-fangirl]

Sleepless night.

Battinson x wife!reader

Summary: Sometimes, the man who cares for the city needs someone to care for him. Just cute fluff☺️

Warnings: talk of Batman things- blood, crime, etc.

A/n: Did someone in my inbox inspire me to rewatch this beauty of a movie? And did I write this while doing so? Yes. Expect more of this Batty Daddy. Italics indicate a flashback.

Masterlist

............................................

"Bruce."

The tired man's head tilted up. He looked awful, eye black smeared down his face. 

You'd been around long enough to know that Bruce never took breaks. You had to practically beg him to take care of himself. He was too self-less. Too full of heart. Or maybe the opposite. Too focused on revenging everything taken from him. One thing was sure- Bruce Wayne would do anything to get what he wants.

He'd been down in his Cave for hours- spending the night out on patrol and the entire next day tweaking things in his BatCave. Now, the night falls again, but you're determined to get him to stay tonight.

He sighs and rubs a hand over his face. "What time is it?"

You can't help your smile. You're down here in your pajamas, trying to coerce him upstairs. It's obvious what time it is. And Bruce is hyperaware of everything. He knows everything. But he just wants to hear your voice.

You don't give in quite yet. Your socked feet pad through the cave until you're at his side, looking over the screen he's been looking at for hours. There's no way his retinas don't have the sight burned in at this point. 

You want to touch him. To rub your hands over his shoulder and relive the tension that's been there for hours. To kiss him until he's forced to take you upstairs to satisfy you.

But Bruce isn't touchy. Especially not like this. So, you accept your place next to him. "What is all this?" You ask him.

"Code" is all he answers back.

You hum and run a hand over his desk. Dust collects on your fingertips. "Was gonna go to bed. When was the last time you ate, Bruce?"

His head tilts and you follow the direction. There's an half-eaten bowl of pasta from dinner that Alfred had brought down. 

There's silence for a while. It's obvious that part of him knows he needs sleep. 

"Come to bed," you try in the sweetest voice you can muster. 

He doesn't look at you, still staring straight ahead. You can feel the turmoil inside him. 

"Bruce," you whisper. "Come to bed with me."

He is after all, still a man. And a man can hardly resist when his wife begs for him to love her.

His head turns, taking you in from head to toe as you lean against the table.

Three years ago, you met Bruce. No. You met Batman. 

When you were young, your older, rebellious brother died at the hands of a Gotham criminal. His death was horrific and brutal. The media ate it up, and your life was changed.

You remembered the police officer that sat with you. His voice was kind. It almost made the sight of people in white forensic suits inspecting your brother's body bearable.

Years later, you were one of the one's in a white forensic suit. A medical examiner for Gotham.

That's when you met him.

A violent, bloody death had occurred. And Gordon let him in. 

You were bent at the knee, examining the stab wounds on a dead senator's neck. 

"Making any headway, Dr.?" Gordon asked. 

"Got a few ideas," you mutter, scribbling something down on your notepad. It's practically chicken scratch, but you know exactly what it says. "Gonna take a few samples before I meet up with t-" the words die off when you tried to turn to look at him, only to be met with the sight of dark combat boots. Your eyes trial up them slowly, taking in the man standing at your side until you reach his face. He's already looking at you. Batman.

That first night, Bruce looked over the footage in his contacts for hours, wanting to know everything about you that he could find. He was… suspicious of you. Yeah, sure. That's why. That's what he told himself.

He loved to just look at you. 

He had seen so much blood. So much death. You were as hurt as he was. But when he looked at you, he saw life.

"What time is it?" He asked again.

"You know exactly, Bruce Wayne," you scold.

"2:38," he answers immediately.

You pull all the stops, letting out a tired whine. "Take me to bed."

Your distress is his agony. You don't mean to take advantage of it, but sometimes you have to or Bruce will let himself go to places he shouldn't.

He sighs, standing up. He ignores the protest in his legs. His hand wanders up to the back of your neck, the pads of his fingers heavy yet soothing.

He gently leads you back up to the Manor, leaving everything. 

You don't waste much time when the door to your bedroom closed, cleaning up Bruce as much as he'd allow. You take his shirt off with practiced hands, even wincing yourself at the bruises on his ribs. 

You set him down on the bed, getting a wet rag and wiping his face. You're beyond gentle. It's something he loves- hates- no, loves about you. 

You are almost too different from Bruce. And yet, you're the same. 

He keeps his hands in his lap as you work, almost like he's trying to be polite. Like he'd do anything to keep you from being uncomfortable. 

As if you hadn't happily given him your body and soul.

But you love that about him. He's a confident bitch, but so unsure at times.

You take his hands yourself, placing them on your hips before cleaning his face again.

His fingers twitch individually, like he's remembering how to move each one. Then, he gently squeezes.

The poor washcloth was a pure white one. Alfred took pride in keeping his cleaning cloths a perfect white. Now, it's an ugly grey, black smeared in places. 

You're more content now. You can at least admire his face without dirt and eye black. 

"Take me to bed, huh? C'mon, big guy," you tease him. "Show me all those muscles you've been working on."

He shies under your praise. 

…

Bruce's hands gently wake you. "Your phone."

You groan and roll over, picking it up from the bedside table. 

Gordon.

You spare Bruce a pitying glance before answering.

"Dr. Wayne? The mayor is dead. I need you at his home as soon as possible. I'll send the address now."

Bruce's hand on your arm tightens.

"Be there in twenty," you mumble. You drop your phone to the bed and sit up.

Bruce watches you closely, like he always does. Observing. Calculating. It's a comforting thing at this point. The way his eyes catch the minimal light in your shared bedroom.

"Seems my vengeance starts in the early mornings," you jest in a serious tone.

His grasp on your arm hasn't faltered.

"Are you gonna go?" You ask him. In another life, you could both revel publically in the fact that you solve the biggest Gotham crimes together. But he's the Batman. And you're Dr. Wayne.

He nods. 

You lay back down, pushing yourself against him until your faces are inches apart.

"You're going to be careful," he says. Maybe it was supposed to be a question, but you don't mind that it's more of a demand.

You tip your chin up, pressing your lips to his.

For a man with steel reflexes, he is always so slow to respond to you. But when he does…

His arms wrap their way around you. His lips eagerly chase after yours, taking what he can get.

Gotham takes more than it gives. But it gave you Bruce. 

........................................................

[flw3rrr]

Could you please do one where the reader is Javis sister and she barley survived the tornado five years early. She’s married to Tyler now and something goes wrong during a chase and the reader ends up getting severely hurt and Tyler and Javi risk everything to save her. She’s unresponsive but ends up being okay

Promise me

Tyler owens x fem!reader

Warnings: slight Swearing, injured reader, Angst, Fluff, No mentions of Y/n, flashbacks to trauma

word count: 2k

A/N: Tysm for this request! I hope this goes to your Liking and please feel free to request more💖

Have a request? feel free to send me it in my inbox!

The only thing you could hear was your bother. Javi was screaming your name in the distance as you laid on the grass, your vision almost a blur as you stared at the gray sky above you. Everything felt slow and calm, as if everything was alright. But nothing was alright, barely surviving an EF5 with harsh winds throwing you around at a failed attempt to capture data of the tornado.

Not even noticing or feeling the intense pain within your lower body, just staring at the sky as if it were comforting you. In a blur, Javi stood above you, looking almost horrified as he looked over your body. immediately taking notice, a wood peace of a fence went through your right leg. "Stay awake, alright?" Shaking you slightly to keep your brain still aware. The rest of his words were muffled, not minding as you felt something pulling you above.

The last thing you heard from Javi was him yelling at you in a panic to try to stay awake more and wait for the paramedics to come rescue you before your vision went black in the most peaceful way you ever felt.

Five years later

Standing in front of the bathroom mirror at the gas station, letting the cold water run over your hands as you cleaned them thoroughly, getting rid of any germs you had on your hands for just being in the bathroom. Your wedding ring getting more shiny as the water ran through it. Bringing a smile to your face just five years ago, you were on the edge of death and now a happily married woman to none other than Tyler Owens. The tornado wrangler.

A knock broke your train of thought as Lily spoke from behind the door. "Are you almost done? Some of us have to use the bathroom too, yknow?!" Quickly drying your hands before opening the door to meet Lily. "Yeah, I'm done now. Sorry, I was just in my own world for a quick second." letting out a little laugh. 

Patting your shoulder as Lily closes the door shut quickly with the sound of the lock turning. Turning away and approaching Dexter, who stood in the aisle looking at the batteries. "Need extras?" You asked, crossing your arms.

Along with Dexter and Dani, you helped them a bit with navigation, but mostly you hung out in the truck with Tyler, Boone, and Javi. Having to take it easy since the injury that took place on your leg left you weak and needed an easier job. 

Having such love for this job made you never want to quit at all. As soon as you were discharged from the hospital, you wanted to go back out, but with ears full from Javi and other friends, you waited. Three years later, you still were getting the strength you had on your leg. It was hard as the years went by as Javi went on to continue to storm chase, then some time in the military. But it was all worth it as you met Tyler, who brought more happiness to your life and as well some new friends. 

"Not really, but I'm getting some of these just in case you'll never know when something happens." Dexter's voice pulls you out of your thoughts once more. "Ah well, you're right on that one; you can never be sure." Giving a warm smile before hearing a voice behind speaking up. "Be sure of what?" Tyler's voice was heard as his hand wrapped around your waist, pulling you into him lovingly.

Just at the sound of his voice, it already has you a blushing mess, it doesn't matter if both of you are married; you'd never get over it. He always treated you fairly and kindly and with respect, and you gave the same in return.

Looking up at him with a big smile and back to Dexter. "He was just telling me he's getting extra batteries just in case, y'know?" Tyler let out a laugh with a shake of his head. "always thinking ahead, which I greatly appreciate. In fact, today is supposed to be easy. With the stats we are seeing, it should be at least something tiny." Now walking out of the building with Tyler and approaching Javi, Dani, and Boone, who was checking the camera storage.

"How you feelin'?" Javi asked as you approached him by the truck. Javi has always worried for you since the injury and always double checks if you're sure you'd like to continue on. It always made you smile though; Javi was the best brother you could ask for, and you'd never wished to replace him ever.

"I am feeling good, Javi; no need to worry about me. I don't need two people to keep checking up on me every second." Tyler also always asked you if you wanted to join and go through, and it made you always feel like the safest person on earth.

Just earning a small nod from him before Tyler spoke once to the whole group, announcing one minute left before heading out. Crossing your arms, you looked at the sky. The wind was not strong, but it made your stomach turn, feeling a sense of unease and worry. Taking deep breaths to desperately fight the flashbacks, closing your eyes and trying to focus on the sound of your breaths before a hand sat on your shoulder, taking you back to reality.

Looking over your eyes  met Tyler once more; his face looked concerned for you and worried. "Is everything alright, sweetheart?" His voice even carried the sound of concern. Giving him a slight smile as you turn to fully meet him, placing your hands on each side of him and holding onto him. "Of course I'm fine, Tyler. Don't worry about me." Giving a reassuring squeeze before he spoke up.

"But I'm supposed to worry about you; that's my job as your husband. Don't forget that." letting out a slight chuckle and a smile to boost the mood between one another. A chuckle escaped past your lips. Your head landing on his chest, hiding your smirk from his comment. "I could never forget Tyler... I love you too much to ever forget that," a soft smile placed on your lips.

His face lowered down to meet your's to place a soft and quick kiss against your lips. Both of you taking in the moment just the two of you as the wind slowly picked up. "Not to bother your guy's little moment, but uh, it's time to get goin'." Lilly's voice spoke, breaking the moment. 

Getting in the back of the truck with Javi as Tyler sat in the driver seat and Boone in the passenger. You usually preferred the back when you felt uneasy, giving a sense of comfort. Just as Tyler started to drive, talking to the viewers through the camera, you and Javi kept an eye on the wind speeds and closely monitored, giving every piece of information to everyone.

Javi looked away for a couple of minutes to talk to the camera, joining in the fun as you kept a close eye on the monitor. The winds picked up speed, the sky got darker, and then rain began to pour down harshly. Glancing up, you look at the funnel slowly forming, doing the math and analyzing the size. This wouldn't be some EF1…

"Woah, do you guys see that now that is a good one?" Tyler spoke to the viewers once more as Boone turned to show it forming. Your body froze, unable to move. Every thought and memory came back in a flash quickly.

"Javi, I need to get this data; it's the most important one I can ever get." You spoke loudly, trying to be heard over the high winds, clutching the computer in your arms tightly. "But you'll get yourself killed; it's not worth it!" Javi yelled, trying to get you back in the van to safety. 

Just as you turned back, it was too late, as the large EF5 looked as if it wasn't moving. With a great chance, it was approaching your way.

Coming back to your senses once again as Javi looks at you with worry. "Are you alright? What's the matter?" Both of his hands on your shoulder, Tyler looking at you through the little mirror, as Boone just kept the camera away from you for privacy. Quickly showing your brother the wind speed and then pointing to the almost formed tornado and speaking only five words. "We need to leave now." 

But it was too late; it had already formed into a massive EF5. With no little time, Tyler quickly started to drive. Your eyes locked on the tornado in fear. "I can't see shit!" Tyler yelled through the loud rain.

"Just drive go go go!" Boone yelled. Then everything went slow for the second time in your life. The sudden calm feeling you enjoyed and overwhelmed you. You take notice of everyone's expressions. Javi was petrified as his right hand gripped on your arm. Tyler's eyes shut, hands gripping the wheel, his wedding ring shining brightly. And Boone was holding onto the camera dearly. 

Then it went back to normal with a sound of a crash, then darkness once more. Perhaps it was how you were meant to go? Or someone above was cradling you in their arms, offering comfort and safety; whatever it was, it felt as if it were a dream. 

It only felt as if this comfort lasted a second. The sound of a constant beeping rang through your ears. A feeling of a rough blanket beneath your fingers as you slowly moved them. Then a comforting hand laid on your forehead, slowly stroking your hair. A deep breath leaves from you before your eyes slowly flutter open.

It took time for your eyes to focus as the bright lights lit the hospital room, and the first face you met is with Tyler; he had a cut on his face going over his nose. His smile grew as you made eye contact. "Hey there.." He softly spoke, his hand still slowly stroking your hair. "What.." Your voice hurt, throat was dry, and you had a lot of head pain. He shushed you quietly before placing a loving kiss on your forehead before speaking.

"The truck flipped over... and a lot of crazy things happened. but you were the most injured. Some brain damage and bleeding. but nothing too bad." His face frowned as he gave you the story of what had happened that day. 

"How long..?" You slowly leaned up with the help of Tyler and a couple of tears.

"Three weeks." Those words shocked you; it only felt like you were out for a mere second. Taking a good look around the room, you looked and saw flowers and a comfy blanket at the bottom of the bed. "Javi and the others?" You turned your head with a wince. 

Tyler gave a kiss to your hand before he took a seat beside the bed. "They are all alright, I promise you. They even visited you, but you won't remember since you were out," letting out a soft laugh. You gave him one in return, which sounded heavenly to him; not hearing your laugh in three weeks was a nightmare for him. not knowing if you'd ever wake up.

Tyler looked at you with such love; his hand never let go of yours. placing one kiss upon your hand once more before speaking. "Can you promise me something?" His eyes looked at you, silently begging you to hear his question, giving him a slight nod. "Promise me that anytime from now on you will always tell me when something feels wrong or you feel uneasy, please." Reading his face, your injury left him tired, eye bags under his eyes, almost as if he waited those three weeks for you to wake up. Placing your hand on his cheek softly, caressing with your thumb before speaking up. "I promise"

[roosterforme]

Yours Truly, Bradley Bradshaw Part 29 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: While Bradley thought it was unfair of the Navy to mess with him while he was still in his honeymoon phase, he certainly did love getting mail from you.

Warnings: fluff, adult language, smut, Bradley being husband material, 18+

Length: 1700 words

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

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

That autumn....

As soon as you led Bradley inside after he drove the two of you home from Salvatore's, you ran your fingers along his cheek and looked up at him with a raised eyebrow. "You had a lunch picnic with Thai food on the beach. And then you got pasta for dinner. Do you have any other requests?" you asked, using your strict classroom voice which made Bradley's mouth water. 

"I do, actually," he whispered, melting into your touch. "How about some of that lingerie you picked out in Paris?"

The honeymoon was almost three months ago, but not an hour went by where Bradley didn't reminisce about the days he got to enjoy the view of the Eiffel Tower and the view of your ass while he fucked you. It always left him with a smile on his face. But his smile started to falter when he remembered that he was shipping out tomorrow, and he wouldn't return until after the New Year. At least he would be allowed to communicate with you this time. That was the only thing saving him from almost certain despair.

"I think that can be arranged," you told him with a smile, unbuttoning your top as he stumbled along after you. "But you have to wait out here until I'm ready."

Bradley groaned and leaned on the wall in the hallway, watching you bounce along to the bedroom without him while you laughed. He didn't mind waiting a few minutes, because he was going to love whatever you were about to do. He was also going to miss you desperately. The honeymoon stage was still going strong, and quitting you cold turkey right now was going to be rough. There wasn't a moment when you and he were together that you weren't touching each other.

He hadn't even finished packing his duffle yet, because he didn't want this to feel real. He was planning on doing that tonight with your help, kissing you as you folded up his shirts and lined up his socks on the bed. But that was going to have to wait a few minutes. You opened the door to reveal the sheer nightie hugging your body as you pressed your thighs together and bit your lip.

Bradley was pushing away from the wall, heading right for you. "Gorgeous," he murmured, pulling you against him and walking you backwards to the bed. "Baby, I'm going to miss this too much."

His heart was pounding in his ears, hands full of your lace covered ass before you dropped to the bed on your back. "I'm going to have to wear all of my honeymoon goodies for my own entertainment for months," you whispered, tits spilling out of the lace as you arched your back.

"No, no, no," he scolded softly, tossing his shirt aside and unzipping his jeans. "Don't be a tease, Baby." You grinned as you turned your head to the side, and Bradley stepped out of his remaining clothing before he climbed in bed. He was hovering above you, lips pressed to your ear as he whispered, "You'll wear the goodies for me, too. And you'll email me every mouth watering photo that you take of your fingers shoved deep in your pussy."

"Bradley," you whined, bucking your hips up until he had to hold you in place with his big hands on your body.

"I want a little treat every time you touch yourself. And I want to know that you're thinking about me."

"I'm always thinking about you."

Your words were an ego boost. Just the kind of thing that would get him through this work assignment and back into your arms. "When you're alone and thinking about me, I want some pictures, pretty girl. A whole inbox full of them. Some sweet ones," he crooned, kissing his way along your jaw to your lips. "And some dirty ones," he added, mouth teasing your skin until your nipple was between his lips and you were whining. He sucked gently, tugging until his lips popped free, leaving you begging for more with your fingers in his hair.

You stopped taking birth control a few weeks ago. The two of you decided to go with the flow and see what happens next. It felt nice to keep that kind of pressure out of the bedroom, especially when Bradley knew he'd be just as content with six kids or none. It's not like he needed anything besides you, and he told you that every single day.

"I'm going to miss my wife," he crooned, guiding his cock inside your slick perfection as soon as you spread your legs. He rocked in and out of you slowly, enjoying the feel of your body and your voice and your sweet scent. Memorizing everything. Telling himself he could get through the time away from you as long as he could come back to this.

It was so late when Bradley finally left the bed. You and he were wrung out and fucked out. Fingers laced together, barely moving, unable to go for a fourth round. "That was wild," you laughed when he finally rolled away from you, dizzy as he stood and looked at the wrecked bedding around your naked body.

"Shit, Gorgeous." He was laughing, too as he said, "I still need to finish packing in the next five hours."

You eased yourself up and stood next to him, assessing the blankets and his open duffle sitting on the floor against the wall. "What if I told you this was all just a ploy to keep you here with me instead of getting you ready to leave?"

"Then I would say I love you."

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

Waking up for work in a bed that was half cold was not your idea of a good time. You shivered every morning that Bradley was gone, especially when November brought with it a chilly bite to the air. The commute from Coronado to Mira Mesa and back each day felt like a punishment when you knew you weren't going to arrive home to a husband who was excited to see you and hear about your adventures in teaching.

Instead, you did the best you could to make it home to your computer where you could type paragraph after paragraph to him, letting him know what was going on back in California. You sent him a plethora of photos, some of which didn't include your face as a precaution. You even went into detail about how much you missed him at bedtime.

And the best part was, you got just as much, if not more, in return. His days were largely repetitious, but there was always something new he was telling you about. His gym selfies never disappointed, and neither did the paragraphs where he told you in an abundance of detail how much he missed waking up next to you.

While you made it a point to spend time with Natasha, Edith, Ruby and Marty, the loneliness was somehow worse now that you had rings on your finger. The best thing to happen was the arrival of the day when your new fourth grade class started their unit on aviation.

Your students had been anticipating it for weeks, and you had some eager faces looking back at you on the Monday morning when you stood at the front of your classroom and said, "We're about to embark on a flight that will take us through our math, science and language arts classes for weeks to come. As we learn all about aviation, we'll be writing to a naval aviator on an aircraft carrier, and we'll even get to visit a local naval base for a field trip. Let's start out by learning the definitions of a few words that we'll be using frequently."

Later that week, you had a sizable cardboard box packed up with letters and snacks for your husband. Instead of telling him exactly when the first package would arrive, you left it as a surprise for him to stumble upon.

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

Bradley was exhausted. The mechanical crew on this deployment was nowhere near as kind or competent as Marty, and he found himself constantly visiting their shop to work through issues with his aircraft. He missed his friends and his home and his wife. He missed you so fucking much. All of the letters and emails you sent him were fantastic, but he even missed having a bunch of pen pals to converse with at the end of the day.

Every happy thought that entered his mind seemed to be pushed aside when he realized he was still a long way from returning to San Diego. He considered skipping dinner in favor of collapsing in his bunk, but he could tell he was already losing weight. You weren't around to keep him well fed, so when his stomach started to rumble, he made a point to head for the noisy mess hall. 

The cabbage rolls were disgusting, but at least the aircraft carriers were consistent. He picked at his meal and then ate two plates of dessert to make himself feel a little bit better. When he was sorting his dirty dishes and tray into the appropriate place, he was surprised to hear his name being called amongst some others.

"Bradshaw! You've got unclaimed mail!"

He perked up immediately. How did he have something else to claim? He picked up an enormous envelope from you the other day along with a card from Edith. Did you send him a handwritten note again already?

When he went to the small window in front of the mail center and gave his name, a box was thrust into his hands. Bradley's heart leapt when he saw the return address was from Mira Mesa Elementary School. He should have been expecting this, but he was suddenly happy you kept it as a surprise. A smile curled along his lips. He could have some regular pen pals to correspond with again. His smile grew wider when he looked at the way you addressed the box to him in your tidy handwriting.

To MY US Naval Aviator (Lieutenant Bradley Bradshaw)

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

Bradley has the ultimate pen pal in his wife. Thanks for reading this series which ended up being so much longer than originally intended! Thanks for all of the love and feedback along the way! Thanks @beyondthesefourwalls

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[hoe4hotchner]

Hi hi hi! So I'm new to tumblr and found your account and omigod I love the way you write 😍😍

So can I request a little something thats been rattling around in my brain? So it's Aaron Hotchner x Southern!Reader.... Basically Penelope drags everyone to a country bar to celebrate Reader's anniversary of joining the team... and she blows everyone away with her line dancing skills and her bullriding... Hotch realises that the polite sunshine girl he fell for is also very talented.

Thank you thank you! Kisses, have a great day xxx

Boots, Bulls, and a Bit of Surprise | [A.H]

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x Southern!Reader | WC: 1.5k | CW: Fluff, mention of bar and alcohol

A/N: I tried my best, but bear in mind that I'm not american and have no clue at all about southern culture and styles ;)

Also yay, this has been in my inbox for ages and I just finished it as a treat for me being done with school for hopefully the next 3 months.

Garcia had declared it a mandatory outing. And when Penelope made something “mandatory,” it might as well have been written into BAU policy.

“Three years!” she had exclaimed that morning, dramatic as ever. “Three years of grace, sweetness, charm, and accented perfection! You think I’m letting that slide by without a celebration? Absolutely not. You, my dear, are going to put on your boots and let me celebrate you.”

You’d tried to argue, gently. Said you didn’t need anything fancy, that you were just grateful to be part of the team. But Garcia had waved you off with a sparkling hand and muttered something about “honky-tonk happiness.” And that was that.

So here you were, standing outside The Rusty Spur, a weathered but lively country bar tucked just off a back road near Quantico. Warm yellow lights glowed over the porch, and the sounds of fiddles and guitars spilled through the open door into the night air. The faint smell of barbecue and beer made your stomach growl despite your earlier apprehension of going out.

“Feels like home,” you murmured without thinking.

Hotch, standing beside you in his usual dark attire, that made him look extremely out of place in this setting, turned slightly at the sound of your voice.

“Good or bad thing?” he asked quietly.

You gave him a soft smile, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. “Good. It’s a good thing.”

He nodded, his eyes lingering on you for just a moment longer than necessary before he stepped ahead to follow the others inside.

The interior of the bar was like something plucked straight from your childhood: worn wooden floors, strings of fairy lights draped from wooden beams, a live band already in full swing near the bar. Cowboy hats dotted the crowd. Boots stomped in rhythm across the dance floor. The vibe was warm and loud and just a little chaotic.

Everyone looked vaguely overwhelmed, while Penelope looked like she’d ascended to country-western heaven in her rhinestone-studded jacket and pink boots.

“Oh my God,” she gasped, spinning in a slow circle as she took everything in. “I’ve found my aesthetic soulmate. This bar is me. This is who I am now.”

You laughed softly, slipping off your denim jacket to reveal a button-down tucked into high-waisted jeans and a belt that had your name stitched into it from years ago. Your boots scuffed lightly on the floor as you stepped forward.

Morgan gave a low whistle. “Okay, cowgirl. You been hiding this whole time or what?”

“Not hiding,” you said with a wink. “Just hadn’t had the chance to show y’all yet.”

Hotch didn’t say anything, but you could feel his eyes on you. You didn’t look at him yet.

Penelope ordered the first round, a mix of drinks in mason jars and bright-colored cocktails with umbrellas, and you all settled into a large booth near the dance floor. The bar had just enough space for the team to spread out but not enough to avoid the rhythm of the music pulsing through the floorboards.

When a new song kicked up, upbeat, classic country, full of claps and kicks and steel twang, your ears perked up.

“Oh, I love this one,” you said, already halfway to your feet.

JJ blinked. “Wait. You dance?”

You paused, halfway through pushing in your chair, and smiled like you were letting them in on a little secret. “Y’all really haven’t been paying attention, huh?”

Without another word, you made your way to the dance floor, hips swaying casually as you joined the growing crowd already in formation. The second the beat dropped, your entire posture changed.

You were electric.

Steps crisp, turns sharp, your body moving with an ease that only came from muscle memory built over years. You glided through the line dance like you’d been born into it, like the rhythm had grown with you, which in reality it had. People around you started to slow down just to watch, and the team definitely did.

“She’s incredible,” JJ said under her breath.

“I thought she was just sweet tea and apologies,” Emily muttered.

Garcia let out a breathy gasp and grabbed Morgan’s arm. “My girl is lighting the place on fire. She’s setting the bar on actual fire.”

Even Spencer looked floored. “Her coordination is… statistically uncommon.”

Hotch was silent.

He didn’t say a word. He just watched, his eyes locked on you like he was trying to decode something he hadn’t realized was right in front of him all along.

He’d always known you were kind. Grounded. The kind of person who remembered birthdays and brought snacks to stakeouts and sent thank-you notes in handwriting that curled like calligraphy. You were soft-spoken and steady.

But this was something different. You weren’t just good at this, you were magnetic. Controlled. Radiant in a way that went bone-deep. He didn’t realize how tightly he was gripping the edge of the table until the song ended.

You curtsied with a grin, breath a little heavy but eyes bright, and made your way back to the table. People clapped as you passed.

“I am… genuinely intimidated,” Emily said, wide-eyed.

“You never told us you could move like that,” JJ added.

You just shrugged, cheeks pink with the rush of the dance and the attention. “It’s just like breathing, where I come from. County fairs, church picnics, Friday night dances. You either learn, or you get left behind.”

Penelope leaned in, dreamily. “I would commit crimes for your kind of footwork.”

Hotch still hadn’t spoken. His gaze hadn’t left you, but his expression was harder to read now. Thoughtful. Quiet.

You were just about to ask him what he was thinking when a voice near the bar yelled over the music.

“Bull time!”

A cheer rose from the crowd. A spotlight flickered toward the far corner, where the mechanical bull sat like a challenge waiting to be accepted.

You perked up instantly.

“Oh no,” Morgan said, eyebrows rising. “Don’t tell me...”

You were already standing again. “Oh, I’m telling you.”

Penelope clapped like a delighted child. “YES. I knew you’d be the one.”

“You’ve done this before?” Emily asked, half-laughing.

You shot her a wink as you handed your jacket to Spencer. “Won my county fair four years runnin’. That bull and I go way back.”

Hotch was still silent, but his eyes followed you with the same intensity as before.

The bull operator gave you a nod like he recognized a fellow pro, and you swung yourself up into the seat without hesitation, adjusting your grip and posture with ease.

The bar quieted a little.

Then the machine jolted to life.

You rode like you were born for it, hips moving in sync with every lurch and twist, one hand high in the air, the other tight on the rope. You didn’t wobble. You didn’t flinch. The crowd whooped louder with every passing second.

And then, with a final spin, you let yourself fall, landing lightly on your feet and giving a little bow, grinning from ear to ear.

The bar exploded.

At the booth, everyone was shouting and laughing.

“You’re actually a menace,” Morgan said, stunned. “An actual bull-riding menace.”

“Your core strength must be off the charts,” Reid muttered.

Penelope looked like she might cry. “You are the most beautiful cowboy goddess I have ever seen.”

But you weren’t really listening to them anymore.

You were looking at him.

Hotch was still seated, still quiet, but something had changed. His arms were crossed, his brow furrowed, but not in disapproval. It looked more like… awe. Curiosity maybe?

You walked over slowly, chest still rising and falling with adrenaline.

“Well?” you asked softly. “Still think I’m just polite and sweet?”

He looked at you, gaze steady and intense. “I’ve never thought that,” he said, quiet enough that only you could hear it.

Your stomach fluttered.

“Good,” you murmured.

The music shifted to something slow.

You didn’t hesitate.

“Dance with me?” you asked, holding out your hand.

He hesitated, just a second. Then he stood, his hand sliding into yours. His touch was warm. Steady. Reassuring in the way only he could be.

You led him to the dance floor, placing one hand on his shoulder, the other holding his firmly. He was stiff at first, classic Hotch, like he wasn’t sure how to let go. But you leaned in just enough, your voice soft.

“Relax. Ain’t no performance. Just you and me.”

Something in him loosened at that. Slowly, he matched your rhythm. Not perfectly, but with effort. He was trying. And he was holding you like he didn’t want to stop.

And under the soft lights of a bar that felt like home, with a team that had become just like family, watching from a distance and the music wrapping around you, Aaron Hotchner danced.

Badly.

But you didn’t mind one bit.

[c0renswet]

scott x reader where they have insane sexual tension and everyone notices (and is fed up) but them so they keep forming elaborate plans to get them alone together

Next Time (scott miller x reader) part I - 18+ MDNI

warnings: sexual tension, swearing, scott being scott, not enemies but not friends to lovers, eventual kissing, eventual smut

a/n: i thought i’d put a twist on this request and make it a multi-part fic! i hope anon doesn’t mind that it’s not specifically the pov from the crew/other chasers but rather the tension filled journey between scott x reader :,)

my inbox is open for requests! rules for requests are on my pinned post :)

part two | part three

This wasn’t your first season chasing with Scott. You’d first met him at a little gas station in the middle Oklahoma. Scott’s rigid demeanor intimidated you, but your friend Javi had practically pushed you two together. Your first chase with Scott was tension filled and awkward, you could tell he didn’t exactly respect you.

That was 3 years ago, and now, you were more than used to Scott’s dull personality. The tension-filled relationship had only grown between the two of you, but neither of you cared to admit how you felt to each other.

“Which cell is it gonna be?”

You’re standing in a gas station parking lot, holding an iPad in front of Scott, a radar image pulled up on the screen. The rest of the Storm Par crew was dispersed around their vehicles and Javi was off somewhere, you assumed he’d gone to get snacks and drinks for the crew.

“You tell me.”

Scott’s answer was short and direct. You knew this game- he’d let you choose and then tell you that he thought otherwise.

“West.”

You inquired, your response just as short and direct as Scott’s.

“You sure? East looks better.”

Scott’s eyes met yours from under his sunglasses. You couldn’t see his eyes, but you knew they glistened with cockiness.

“I’m always sure.”

You rolled your eyes at him, putting the iPad at your side. Javi came running out of the gas station, plastic bags in his hands. He stopped to give bags to other members of the crew before making his way over to you and Scott.

“You guys want snacks?”

Javi held two bags in front of each of you.

You took a bag from him and peered inside— all of your favorites. You smiled.

“Thanks, Javi.”

Scott took the second bag and muttered something that sounded like a thank you before walking to your chase vehicle.

“Where are we headed?”

Javi asked, but you could tell he already knew the answer.

“West.”

You winked and smiled at him before turning and walking to the SUV.

—

“I’m tired of your little game, Scott.”

You broke the silence in the vehicle. It was a silence you’d gotten comfortable with, you knew Scott wasn’t one for small talk or casual conversations- especially with you.

“What game?”

Scott’s eyes were trained on the road in front of him, Javi’s truck not far in front of your SUV.

“The whole ‘East looks better’ bullshit.”

You adjusted in your seat. Typical of him to act like he didn’t know the way he treated you. You heard something that sounded like a scoff come from him.

You expected an arrogant response but it never came. You wondered if you’d caught him off guard with your declaration.

“It’s been 3 years, Scott. I can understand not liking me, but you should respect me. I think I’ve shown that I deserve that, at the very least.”

You knew you were venturing into dangerous territory by the way his jaw clenched and his eyes narrowed. But, you were almost eager to push his buttons- to tell him everything you’d bitten back for 3 years. You wanted to be mean to him, drill the words into him and break him down like the times he’d broken you down for making simple mistakes.

Again, no response. You wondered if he was doing this on purpose, making you sit in his silence while he plotted how he was going to pull you aside and belittle you after the chase.

“I don’t dislike you.”

After a few minutes, his words cut through the silence. Your mind did a full stop.

“What?”

“I don’t dislike you.”

Scott repeated. His eyes darted to you for a second before returning to the road. The words cut through you. Everything you’d ever assumed he thought about you had just been squashed.

The familiar silence returned. You weren’t sure what to say, or even what to think. You stared at the yellow lines that split the road into two lanes. It felt like they went on forever.

—

“Hey, good job today. Sorry we didn’t get anything.”

Javi handed you the key card to your room. The two of you stood in the parking lot of a cheap motel. The rest of Storm Par had either gone to their rooms or were dispersed throughout the lot, talking with other chasers or cleaning out their vehicles.

“Oh well. There’s always next time.”

You managed a half smile. Sure, you were disappointed, but you were tired and ready to be away from everyone.

“Yeah- well, goodnight. See you tomorrow.”

Javi smiled, patting your shoulder before walking off. You almost felt bad for keeping the conversation short but you were glad to be left alone. You started walking to your room, ready to be in the warmth of a bed.

“Hey.”

You heard a voice behind you. You swore you let out a curse under your breath before turning around. Scott was standing there, clipboard resting under his arm.

“What?”

The word came out harsher than you’d meant for it to but you didn’t care. This was supposed to be your time, you just wanted to be away from him.

“East looked better.”

You stood there. You bit your tongue, holding back the long line of curses that threatened to spill from your lips.

“You followed me over here to tell me that?”

You managed, turning to walk away from him. You wanted to be away from him.

“Not so fast.”

He caught your arm with his hand.

“You aren’t always sure.”

Asshole, you thought. You knew he was doing this on purpose, this was just another one of his ways of giving you shit, but you weren’t in the mood.

“Fuck off.”

You shrugged out of his grasp.

“Why? Is there somewhere you need to be?”

Scott tilted his head, crossing his arms in front of his chest, clipboard resting under them.

“Yeah, there is. Away from you.”

You spat, walking away from him again.

Scott watched you walk away for a moment before following you.

“I said I don’t dislike you. This is what I get for that?”

You scoffed.

“Then why do you treat me like shit?”

Scott shrugged.

“Because it’s fun.”

You stopped at the door to your room and turned towards him again. His arms were back to his sides. You were almost too tired to care about what he was saying.

“I see. Goodnight.”

Sarcasm dripped from your voice. You turned to put the key card in the lock. You opened the door and slammed it shut, leaving Scott standing outside like a dog on your doorstep.

You quickly changed clothes and climbed into bed. The softness of the sheets and warmth of the blankets instantly relaxed you. You closed your eyes, enjoying the peacefulness.

—

You didn’t know how long it had been before there was a knock at your door. You ignored it. There was another. You opened your eyes. Sighing, you turned on the bedside lamp and got up. You unlocked the door, not even bothering to see who was there before you did. Opening it, you felt every ounce of peace fade away.

Scott stood there in his black undershirt and a pair of sweatpants, a plastic bag in his hand. His curls hung in the low light of the hallway. It was rare you saw him in anything other than his white Storm Par button up and perfectly ironed pants. You hated to admit that he looked good.

“Wanted to give this to you.”

He extended the bag towards you. You blinked at him. Maybe if you blinked enough, he’d go away.

“Take it.”

Scott held up the bag. Wanting him to go away, you took it from him. You pushed the door shut when his hand stopped it, pushing it back open.

“Where’s my thank you?”

He raised an eyebrow.

“Thanks.”

You rolled your eyes and shut the door.

You opened the bag. A few of your favorite snacks were inside, along with a note. Curious, you picked up the note.

There’s always next time.

- Scott

“Asshole.”

You said out loud, putting the note back in the bag and throwing the bag on the table by the door. You climbed back into bed and turned off the lamp. You closed your eyes again, sleep finding you not long after.

[bl3upi3]

Something About Hollis

Check out part 2

Summary: While in New York for a Miu Miu campaign, rising artist Y/N shares a spontaneous beat on her Instagram story catching the attention of underground favorite 2Hollis. What starts as a simple DM turns into an unexpected late-night call.

A/N: Short 2Hollis one-shot. Not sure if I’m gonna turn it into a full fic or a series yet.

You’ve been a music artist on the scene for about two years now, blowing up thanks to TikTok. You’ve been making music for as long as you can remember, starting with the basics like piano and guitar. But when you discovered the underground scene, you wanted your music to be more creative, more experimental. You had some monthly listeners, but you really blew up about a year ago after that feature with Jane Remover.

Jane found you and your music really interesting. Your lyrics were meaningful, and your art felt genuinely beautiful. She discovered you by chance, stumbling across one of your TikToks and reached out wanting to collaborate. It changed everything for you: more recognition, more listeners, and now a solid fanbase.

Recently, you opened for one of Charli XCX’s concerts, and that’s when everything really changed. You had to get a real manager because so many companies and artists wanted to collaborate with you. It was overwhelming at first. You still played in underground clubs sometimes, even for free it was a strategic move, keeping your roots while navigating the industry.

One day, while you're in New York City for a Miu Miu shoot for their latest campaign, you post a messy beat on your Instagram story, just something to entertain your fans while you wait for the makeup artist to finish. Out of curiosity, you start checking the replies for feedback. That’s when you notice a DM from a verified account: “this goes stupid. u tryna build on it?” You check the @ it’s from 2Hollis. You pause, squint at the name, and realize you’ve seen it before in some TikTok comment section.

Isn’t that the guy all the girls have been talking about lately? Something like, “my white tiger” type shit? you think to yourself.

You turn to the makeup artist.

“Do you know 2Hollis?” you ask.

She pauses, brush in hand, then raises her eyebrows.

“Obviously. Who doesn’t? He’s like, TikTok’s favorite sadboy.”

You hum, glancing back at the DM. You didn’t expect him to reach out.

You tap out a reply without overthinking it: “yeah sure. u got something in mind?”

You lock your phone and lean back in the chair as the makeup artist starts on your eyeliner. But your mind’s somewhere else now half curious, half suspicious. You’ve seen artists reach out before just to ride a wave. But something about the way he worded it felt casual, unbothered. Like he wasn’t chasing anything.

A few minutes later, your phone buzzes again.

“i got this loop i’ve been sitting on. think you’d sound crazy on it. can i send?”

You unlock your phone again, typing back: “send it.”

Not even thirty seconds later, there’s a Dropbox link sitting in your inbox. You throw your AirPods in and press play, eyes half-lidded as the track builds. It’s glitchy, dark, and oddly soft around the edges like it's falling apart on purpose. The drums stutter in weird places, the synths warped just enough to feel like a memory.

Huh. He’s good.

You listen to it again. And again. By the third play, you’ve already opened your voice notes app and started humming something over the chorus.

You don’t even bother being formal. You shoot him a voice memo: “okay wait. this is actually sick. let me sketch something out tonight.”

You expect him to leave you on seen or at least take a while to respond. Instead, it’s instant: “bet. i’m around if you wanna hop on a call.”

Call? You stare at your phone like it’s got a second head. No one calls anymore. Especially not for music stuff not unless they’re old school or serious.

You stare at the message, thumb hovering over your screen. A call? In the middle of a Miu Miu campaign shoot? Not happening.

“i’m not available right now but tonight if that’s okay w you,” you reply.

“yeah cool. i’ll be around.”

You put your phone face-down on the vanity and exhale. The makeup artist’s almost done now, dusting shimmer along your cheekbones like she’s painting armor. But your head’s buzzing not with fashion, not with flashing cameras, but with that loop. 

Later that night, when the shoot's wrapped and your heels are finally off, you're sitting cross-legged on the hotel bed with your laptop open and mic set up beside you. You press record and start sketching layering in harmonies, mumbling half-finished lyrics that don’t make sense yet but feel right.

There’s something easy about the track. Like it’s pulling something out of you you didn’t realize was there.

At 11:12 PM, you send him a rough snippet. Nothing too polished just enough to show you’re taking it seriously.

Not even five minutes later, your phone rings.

You hesitate for a second, then swipe to answer.

“Yo,” his voice comes through, low and a little grainy. Background noise filters in too, someone laughing, the faint hum of music, the unmistakable sound of a lighter flicking.

“Hey,” you say, settling back into your pillows.“Didn’t expect you to actually call this fast.”

“Didn’t expect you to actually send something this good,” he shoots back, smooth but not in a fake way. “You sound fire on it already.”

You hear another voice in the background deeper, louder.

“Tell her it’s the loop of the year!” someone yells, clearly not knowing or caring that you’re on the line.

Hollis sighs. “Ignore him. That’s Roman. He thinks everything I make is ‘loop of the year.’”

You smirk. “Right. You got a whole committee back there or something?”

Another voice chimes in, this one cooler, more deadpan. “Nah, just a couple of degenerates with good ears. You’re talking to Conceal, by the way.”

“Hi… Conceal,” you say, unsure if you're supposed to know him.

Hollis cuts back in. “Anyway. I meant to say  I’ve actually been keeping an eye on your stuff for a while.”

That catches you off guard. “Really?”

“Yeah,” he says, like it’s obvious. “Think the first thing I heard was that Jane track. Someone had posted a clip of it on Twitter. Then I checked your page and you were just… making weird, beautiful shit. Real different. It stuck with me.”

You pause, fingers brushing over the edge of your laptop. There’s a lot of fake praise in the industry. Hollow compliments dressed in lowercase cool. But he doesn’t sound like he’s selling you anything.

“I figured you probably had no idea who I was,” he adds, and there’s a little laugh in his voice now. “Which, honestly, kinda made me want to reach out more.”

“I’d heard of you,” you admit. “TikTok girls were thirsting over you.”

You hear Roman immediately burst out laughing in the background. “Let’s goooo! She clocked you, bro.”

Hollis groans. “Please. Don’t feed into that.”

“You are kind of infamous,” you tease, letting the corner of your mouth curve into a smirk. “Some of those edits are crazy. Like…”

“Jesus Christ,” Hollis mutters. “I swear I just breathe and someone turns it into a fan cam.”

“Sounds exhausting,” you say, not entirely sarcastic.

“It is,” he replies. Then softer, “But the music’s what matters. Everything else is noise.”

There’s a small silence between you, like a low tide pulling back.

You glance at the track still open on your laptop. “Well, for what it’s worth… I get it. That loop? It’s not just cool. It feels like something. Like you meant it.”

For a second, you think he won’t respond. Then: “I did.”

In the background, Conceal says, way too casually, “This whole phone call feels like a slow-burn A24 scene.”

You laugh out loud, sharp and real. “Okay, who are you guys?”

“Artists,” Roman replies. “Annoying ones. But artists.”

You lean back into your pillows again, voice softer now. “Cool. Well… I’m glad you reached out.”

“Me too,” Hollis says. Then: “You free tomorrow?”

“No,” you say, stretching your legs out on the bed. “I’m kind of busy with that whole Fashion Week stuff.”

“Ohhh, Fashion Week,” Roman says, dragging it out like a tease. “She’s fancy.”

“So you also a model?” Hollis asks, voice curious but not mocking.

You roll your eyes, even though no one can see it. “Not exactly. Brands just like putting me in weird clothes and calling it a vision.”

“Sounds like modeling,” Conceal mutters.

You shrug. “I guess. I just show up, wear the fits, smile like I know what I’m doing, and pray I don’t trip on the runway.”

“That’s real artistry,” Roman deadpans.

You laugh. “Yeah, I’m basically couture’s clown.”

“Nah,” Hollis says, and his tone shifts just slightly. “You’re kind of everywhere right now. Music, fashion, all of it. But it doesn’t feel… fake. You still sound like yourself.”

That hits unexpectedly deep. You blink, caught off guard by how sincere it sounds.

“Thanks,” you say, quieter. “I try.”

There’s a pause, like the air just got a little thicker.

“Alright,” Hollis says, breaking it gently, “then we’ll figure it out. When you’re done being New York’s most stylish menace, pull up to the studio. No pressure.”

You smile to yourself, biting your lip a little. “Yeah. I’ll let you know when I’m free.”

“Cool,” he says. “Sleep well, superstar.”

The call ends, but your phone stays in your hand a moment longer.

[thatacotargirl]

Hi there, still accepting requests? For some reason I'm in the mood for some classic Elriel angst 🥺 maybe where Inner Circle reader loves her best friend Azriel and secretly knows that they are mates, but he was always in love with Mor and now seems smitten over Elain, so she's scared to tell him in case she gets rejected, and she doesn't want him to feel forced to be with her because of the bond, but he finally realises (maybe when reader is about to give up on him and go on a date with someone else or leave the night court) and they get their cutesy happy ending together 😊

Hi there! I absolutely am, thank you for the request! I’m a fluffy writer at heart so this is my first attempt at any kind of angst - I hope I do your request justice!

Inbox is always open for requests ❤️

Divider is from @tsunami-of-tears , you are an absolute genius! Thank you for making such beautiful dividers ❤️

Misunderstandings

An Reader x Azriel one shot

"AZ!"

You hear screeching laughter from the library of the House of Wind and you feel your heart crack, your stomach drop, and your head spin, knowing exactly who that laughter is coming from. The strawberry pastry in your hand drops to the floor as you pop your head around the door, careful not to be seen, and see Elain balancing precariously on Azriel's shoulder. Azriel, who is known for his reserved nature, his lack of comfort for physical touch, has Elain hoisted on his shoulders and is guiding her towards the bookshelves so she can reach the book she is looking for. Only, he keeps pretending to trip, or to drop her, or to forget she's there - making her scream and grasp onto his arms tightly. In other words, he is flirting with her.

You feel tears pricking in your eyes as you slowly back away and close the door quietly behind you, desperate to not hear the laughter any more.

When you had felt the bond snap with Azriel 75 years ago, your heart had soared. You had harboured a crush on the Shadowsinger since the first moment you met him and to know he was your Cauldron destined mate had been the best moment of your life. Only, the bond snapped one-sided, and Azriel had yet to realise. Sometimes you would tug on that little golden thread, other times you'd yank on it harshly, hoping for any sort of reaction from him, for him to realise who you were. But nothing.

Instead, you watched as Azriel pursued an unrequited crush on Mor for centuries. She had no idea that you were mates, the only person that knew was Rhysand - and likely Feyre by extension. She didn't know how much it hurt to watch Azriel follow her around, his eyes full of metaphorical hearts. You saw the pitying looks from Rhysand every night at Ritas when Azriel would make a sly attempt at garnering Mor's attention, his back turned to you.

You and Azriel had always been close, he was easily the best friend that you had ever had. You could fall into comfortable silences with each other, neither of you particularly extroverted people, especially not by comparison to the rest of your family. But there was always a very clear line in your friendship and it was never once crossed. You'd hug, if the situation warranted it, you'd sit next to each other at meals and on the sofa, he'd help you if you asked; but you knew he didn't see you the same way that he saw Mor.

And now, Elain.

You had caught the pair of them in the kitchen just last week, laughing and covered in flour as he watched Elain bake. You saw them sat shoulder to shoulder in Azriel's study late at night, giggling over who knows what. Azriel had never looked this happy before.

You didn't realise you were crying outside the library door until you felt a hand on your shoulder and the sensation of winnowing around you. When you looked up, you were in Rhysand's office and clasped to his chest.

"I'm so sorry, y/n. I told him to stay away from her, on account of her being a mated female, I thought he'd listen".

You could do nothing but cry harder. His feelings for Elain surpassed even an order from Rhysand - and Azriel never defied Rhysand. You heard the door open but didn't look up, too busy soaking Rhysand's shirt in tears. You felt someone pull you towards them and your body was engulfed in another, large male. You would know Cassian's scent from anywhere.

"He's a fool, y/n", Cassian whispered into your hair. You looked up at him, and then glared at Rhysand.

"I didn't tell him!", Rhysand said, holding up his hands in innocence.

"He didn't have to tell me, y/n. I figured it out a long time ago - for a Spymaster, I'm amazed he's so damn clueless".

You only cried harder, your head on Cassian's chest, mindful of his siphon. He held you whilst you wept, slowly guiding you both to the sofa in Rhysand's office.

"I don't think I can do this anymore, Rhys".

"Do what?"

"Stand by and watch him fall in love with every female that isn't me".

Both Rhysand and Cassian looked at each other, concern marring their faces.

"What are you saying, y/n?".

"I need to leave, Rhys".

You didn't know how long you intended to leave the Night Court for. Rhysand had spoken with Tarquin and had agreed that you would go to the Summer Court. You would find a home and work there, and Tarquin would allow you to stay for as long as you wanted - forever, if that was your decision. He had even lifted the ban on Cassian, allowing him to visit, but only if supervised by you at all times. You had formally resigned from your role as Night Court emissary and began packing your bags.

Mor and Feyre, teary-eyed, sat on your bed watching you pack - Mor secretly pulling out clothes from your suitcase so you'd have to re-fold them and stay longer.

"Mor".

"Please don't leave us, y/n. Azriel is an idiot, he's not worth leaving over".

You had told them about your mating bond with Azriel. Nesta and Amren also knew. But you'd been careful not to tell Azriel or Elain. You didn't want Azriel to leave Elain just to be with you because of the mating bond - you wanted him to be with you because he loved you. But he didn't. He loved her.

"I have to, Mor. It's time I get some space and find my own feet again. All these years have been taken up by Azriel and waiting for him - I deserve more than that".

She sighed, her head hanging in resignation. She knew you were right.

As you put the last of your clothes in the suitcase, you moved it to the door where your boxes waited to be transported to the Summer Court. You heard a knock, expecting Rhysand, but opened the door to a grinning Elain.

"Hi y/n! I was just wondering if you wanted to go..."

Elain looked from you to the suitcase, to the boxes, to Mor and Feyre's tear-stained faces, and then back to you.

"What's going on?".

"I'm going away for a little bit - just to the Summer Court. But you can visit, and I'm sure I'll visit here again".

Elain's lip wobbled.

"For how long?".

Feyre couldn't hold back her sob and at that moment, Elain realised you might be leaving forever.

"Why?".

You wanted to tell her the truth, but her sweet face made it hard to be angry at her. She didn't choose this. She didn't know that Azriel was your mate. She is just a young female thrown into a new world and making the best of it.

"Just need a change of scenery", you reply, forcing a smile on your face. You watch as Elain's face changed from heartbroken to panic-stricken, and she ran from the room.

"I think maybe that was one change too many for her", Mor sighs.

"I'll go after her", Feyre says, standing from the bed. She pulls you in for one last, long hug and flies from the room, hiding the new batch of tears streaming down her face. You see Rhysand standing in the doorway, his hand outstretched to you.

"Ready?".

You nod, taking his hand in yours and feeling his powers fill the room as he winnows you to Adriata, the Summer Court, your new home. You felt a lightness take hold of your body that had been missing for the last 75 years. A sense of calm and peace. Your heart was broken, but it could heal, you could find yourself again and feel happiness and joy at the small things in life, things you sorely missed.

But, if you'd have tugged on that golden thread one last time, you'd have felt Azriel's answering pull back.

Elain thundered through the House of Wind and up the stairs to the training ring on the roof. She burst the door open to see Azriel lighting the last of the candles that surrounded the picnic blanket, rose petals littered the floor, and a strawberry pastry sat on a plate in the middle. Azriel knew they were your favourite, and knew it had to be the food he offered you for the mating bond.

"AZ, SHE'S GONE".

Azriel whipped his head to the door to see a dishevelled Elain standing there, red in the face and out of breath.

"Gone where?"

"The Summer Court, she's left the Night Court, Az".

Azriel felt his heart sink. He had only felt the bond snap a few weeks ago and had been planning this night ever since. Elain, his new friend and confidant, had been helping him. She had helped Azriel find and read your favourite romance novels in the library to know what you liked from a partner, she had helped Azriel learn how to bake your favourite pastry so it would be perfect for you when you accepted the mating bond, she had taught him calligraphy so he could write you the love notes he knew you swooned over, the pair of them giggling at Azriel's attempts to be a hopeless romantic, and failing terribly.

He never imagined that you would leave before he could tell you how much he loved you. That you would leave without even saying goodbye.

His head reeled as he stumbled backwards. Without a second thought, he took to the sky, wings beating harder than they ever had before, towards the Summer Court.

"Thank you for your hospitality, Tarquin". You were in awe of the home he had provided for you in Adriata. A beachfront, two-story home decorated to the nines in shells and pearls. It was glorious.

"It is my pleasure, y/n. Please, do enjoy everything that my Court has to offer. This particular beach gives a beautiful view of the sunset".

With that, Tarquin departed - allowing you time to process your move and absorb your new surroundings. You walked down to the ocean, your beautiful new sundress blowing gently in the breeze, and felt the water flow up to your mid-calves. It was pleasantly warm, heated by a day of sunshine, as you watched dusk start to coat the horizon.

That was, until something crash landed in the ocean in front of you.

Before you were able to turn back and run, you noticed a black membrane bob up out of the water, followed by a blazing blue siphon. You heart stuttered as you watched Azriel swim as fast as he could to you.

"Y/n", he breathed, his hair matted to his face with sweat and salt water. In his hand, you noticed a soggy, crumbled, almost entirely disintegrated strawberry pastry. Gaping, you watched Azriel offer the pile of mush to you.

"Az?"

"I.... love.... you", he heaved, trying to catch his breath.

But you were pretty sure you stopped breathing altogether. You heard more noises behind you, and turned to see your entire Night Court family there, having been winnowed in by Rhys, Feyre and Mor.

"What is going on?".

Rhys stepped forward and offered you his hand.

"Let me show you". So you did.

Once joined, Rhys entered your mind and showed you memories from Elain and Azriel's minds. You saw the moment the bond snapped for Azriel, the grin that had taken over his face when he realised, the sheer excitement she had felt at knowing two of her friends were mated. You saw the conversation between them - Azriel asking her to teach him how to make your favourite strawberry pastry. You saw, from their eyes, what they were giggling about at Azriel's desk - the poorly written love notes, all addressed to you. You saw the book Elain was reaching for in the library from Azriel's shoulders - your favourite romance - and how they studied your tabs and highlighting like their life depended on it. You saw the picnic. You saw Azriel's heartbroken face when Elain told him that you had left.

As Rhys withdrew, you realised that you were crying. When you looked up, you realised you weren't the only one, your entire family was in tears - Cassian near blubbering into Nesta's hair.

Azriel loved you.

You turned to face him, still completely sodden and holding out the mush to you. You took it, grimacing slightly, and shoved the entire pile of it into your mouth.

"I love you too".

Azriel flew at you, grabbed you into his arms and kissed you like he would never get another chance. You dropped your shield and felt the bond overflowing with love, Azriel pushing all of his emotions to you, almost knocking the breath out of you once more.

"Come home?", he asked quietly.

You nodded, leaning in to kiss him again. Then paused.

"But, maybe in a couple of weeks?". Azriel looked at you with confusion, before his eyes suddenly darkened, a feral look overtaking his face.

"Aaaaannnddd, that's our cue to go", Cassian laughed, your family all grappling at each other to get out of there quickly, not wanting a front row seat to your show.

You paid no attention as you let Azriel lift you into his arms and carry you towards the beachfront house. You simply smiled, feeling comfort in the fact that, maybe, everything really was going to be ok.

[alllgator-blood]

WAIT A DAMN MINUTE !!

It's been quite I while since I bullied you with my art friend,so I think it's time you can escape from me im too slow:)

I like when people call my oc spooder shamura ,they're both sillies, live ur shamura they're the silliest:)

Don't mind how crappy the drawing is :(

AHHHHHHHH SPOODER SPOTTED- tbh I am still haunted by forever ago when I called them "shamura" on an ask you sent, so I'm just glad it was more funny than a cardinal sin.

This is a rare sighting of shamura when they're NOT silly but that changes pretty quick when a small, cute creature is introduced, and the protective big sibling instinct takes over. Also I would never draw the bishops being actually mean to anyone in an ask even if they're evil demon creatures, I would feel too bad :')

I sometimes think about that comic you said you were working on last year with spooder + my shamura, but I know projects don't always get finished (sweeps my 93843243 sketched, unfinished comics/animations under the rug and coughs) so I didn't want to make you feel obligated to finish it! It was cool seeing these two in my inbox after all this time cause I was like HEY! I REMEMBER THEM! Comics are really hard and there's a reason most of em aren't generally colored + background'ed and most comic artists will straight up beg you to use shortcuts instead of doing everything the hard way....ME INCLUDED. So like I said don't sweat it if it stays as a WIP, just wanted to mention that I still remember that project!

....also I have no idea what that smoothie is. It's probably full of dark evil energy and might imbue you with demonic powers if drank. IIRC the premise of your comic was spooder was going to shamura for a specific purpose, like to ask them a question or try to gain something, so I guess now they're leaving with some kind of eldritch magic???

[shurisneakers]

unsolved (i)

Summary: Bucky doesn't even believe in the paranormal. So who the hell thought it was a good idea to stick him in a series about everything haunted for the internet's amusement? With his loose-canon of a teammate who has no concept of subtlety or any shits left to give, to make things even worse. (Buzzfeed unsolved AU)

Warnings: swearing, frustrated bucky at his little shit supreme, Very Loud reader, images and memes that all have alt texts.

A/N: yes this is literally harmless in a different font. do not ask me if anything doesn't make sense. i cannot explain. i resurface every 3 years to present you with ideas born from menty b's. ANYWAY shout out to my beloved ryan and shane. pls enjoy <3

Bucky doesn’t appeal to the youths.

Apparently. 

On God, he cannot fathom why.

He had definitely left the house in the last six months, maybe. Smiled in at least two pictures that existed on the internet. He even knew what Discord was. Sort of.  

By all accounts, he should be treated as the modern day icon that he was.  

“The youths?” he repeats, the word so foreign on his tongue it felt odd to even say it.

“Your numbers are the lowest of the whole team.” The latest tech-dude, with a tablet twelve models ahead of the one Bucky had in his room, tells him monotonously. “Wilson, Romanoff and Barton score the highest. Everyone else lies around the middle. You are dead-last.”

Bucky has the audacity to look offended. 

“Anything to say?” Their PR head, Maya, asks him, amused. 

He stares, formulating the wittiest one liner he could in three seconds.

“I don’ care,” he mumbles. 

Maya sighs. “Look, the team took the decision together. As far as I’m aware, you are still a member. You need some PR if you guys want to stay in the public’s good books.”

“No one’s gonna listen to me.” Bucky wasn’t exactly the poster child for American values. He couldn’t even vote until three years ago, and that came only after the full wrath of a Steve Rogers descended on the email inbox of the DMV. 

“That’s why it’s important to get them to like you,” Maya emphasizes. “Or the idea of you at least. A very sanitized, corporate friendly version.”

His eyebrow twitches unintentionally.  

“And also you signed the contract.”

Well. Shit. 

Truth be told– and he has openly and rather loudly stated this on numerous occasions even especially when no one asked– he doesn’t understand why they need a PR team. The world has calmed down significantly over the last few years. Bucky hadn’t really been out crime-fighting as much as he was people-watching. There hasn’t been an earth-shatteringly dystopian-level event in the longest time, and there seemed to be a group of spandex-clad teenagers who seemed to do a good job at taking care of them when they did threaten to occur. Go kids.

Even if they needed PR, he could arguably understand the appeal of Sam and Nat and why the people would want to see more of them. Bucky, on the other hand, looked like he crawled onto Earth most days of the week. 

“What do I have to do?” he asks ultimately, knowing there was no way to get out of this. “Interviews?”

The intern shares a look with Maya. Bucky shares a look with the ceiling. 

“The team agreed to do a series of videos, each focusing on a different niche,” she begins, “Crash courses on science, pointing out mistakes in spy movies. Once a week.”

Bucky nods along. He can pinpoint Bruce and Nat for those.

Maya stares at him.

Bucky stares back.

“So,” she says slowly, like he’s a moron, “you would–”

“No.” 

The intern sighs heavily like they discussed that this was going to happen. Bucky was getting predictable. This annoys him even further, for some reason.

“Only once a week, and it doesn’t have to be anything crazy–”

“I’m not doing videos,” he interjects. “I’ll tweet a few times. I’ll even go outside. But ’m not doin’ videos.”

A big step was to get the Avengers off Twitter after the regular shit-storm that occurs every time they’d quote-tweet another politician calling them shitheads. Getting them back on seems counterproductive. 

“Fine,” Maya relents, looking at the intern. “We'll work something out.”

Bucky leans back in his chair, and meditating on ways he can weasel his way out of those too.

So they stick him in a couple of interviews.

Bucky, as the recluse extraordinaire that he was, does unsurprisingly terrible at them.

Variety does a piece on him that was supposed to take up 2 pages. They send back half a page worth of usable material and Bucky gets a lecture on how monosyllables don't count as answers.

He grunts in return. Maya’s itch to smack his shoulder with the rolled up draft increases.

They set him up for pap walks. Just him getting fast food for the team, or sitting in the park.

They don’t take into account that Bucky was trained professionally for years on how to hide, sneak in and out of places without a soul knowing he was ever there. 

The paparazzi spend three hours waiting for him outside the pizza place, while he’s been home for two hours with two demolished pepperonis and an order of mozzarella sticks. 

They give him access to his Twitter. 

He tweets some dumb shit and gets shadow banned by that evening. 

Maya is sick and tired, and the interns have shifted three times since the whole ordeal started. Bucky honestly feels a little bad. Maybe he should try to be like Scott, who not only wrote a book, finger-gunned at photographers, did an interview a week, but also agreed to a podcast and a video series about literally anything they suggested. 

“Play nice,” Sam tells Bucky one evening. 

It’s an off-hand comment, not even really looking at him while he says it. 

Bucky doesn’t need to ask what he’s referring to, but he thinks that maybe he has gone too far.

He begrudgingly agrees. 

Therefore, it begins. 

They stick him in the background of a few videos. Just to interact, add his commentary on what was going on, suggestions. 

Then the jokes really start.

“I just don’t got anything to add,” Bucky tries, in a failure of an attempt to justify his lack of contribution. 

Maya only stares at him, but Bucky swears he can hear her curse quietly, even though her lips don’t move even a millimeter.  

He is not put in another video. 

And so he finds himself here. 

In a meeting room that he’s convinced is barricaded from the outside so he can’t slither out the door again. Another intern with pink-tinted glasses that took up half their face.

Maya’s in the midst of explaining to him that sure, his numbers had gone up by a decimal, but that was because people had started editing him into the backgrounds of other pictures for other users to find in a perplexing take on Where’s Waldo.

“Videos seem to be working,” she ties it together. “But we need more than you just standing silently behind Captain Rogers.”

“But it’s working,” Bucky objects. “I don’t see why it has to change.”

Maya sends him a glare. Bucky decides then it’s good to shut up. 

“Are you on the internet a significant amount?” the intern asks. The glasses on their face have changed colours to green. Bucky’s eyebrow furrows. 

“No.” 

For the next thirty minutes, he is subjected to a pop quiz about too many words ending with ‘core’, ‘coded’ and ‘eras’. He’s surprised that he knows what cottagecore is. He definitely doesn’t fucking know what a tomatogirl, nor does he want to. 

“What do you like doing?” the intern enunciates, pulling up a spreadsheet of niches that had built a dedicated community around themselves over the years. “Makeup? Cleaning? Parkour?”

Bucky wonders if they’d really create a montage of him just micro cleaning the kitchen every week. It doesn’t sound half bad. 

Beyond that, the only thing he can think of is woodworking, which Sam introduced him to. While he spends time creating little figures, he wouldn’t say it was– 

“You really are dead silent,” the intern breaks his train of thought, tone almost that of wonder. “Guess the whole ‘ghost story for seventy years’ is more true than I thought.”

Bucky throws him a weary look, and works on unclenching the fist that tightened involuntarily. 

“Was that necessary?” Maya’s voice comes coldly. “Take fifteen. Go find the other one we were supposed to meet.”

While sheepish and somewhat apologetic, the kid still looks relieved to be out of there. To be honest, Bucky isn’t really offended– he’s grown a thick skin over the years. But he also thought the guy was a little shit now. 

Maya turns back to him, but Bucky finds that the table contains wonders far more interesting than the conversation at hand.

“Back to what we were talking about.” She ruffles through something on her laptop. “Puppets? History?”

He wordlessly shakes his head. 

Been the former, seen too much of the latter.

Maya’s head tilts abruptly. “You like ghosts?”  

He wonders if the prior conversation had anything to do with this insightful question. 

Bucky shrugs. “Don’t exist.”

“Really,” Maya deadpans. “Aliens and multiversal baboons are fine, but no ghosts.”

“I’ve seen aliens and multiversal baboons. Never seen a ghost in my life,” Bucky argues right back.

“Other people have seen ghosts.”

“Good for other people.”

The door swings open right as Maya’s eyes narrow at him. Guess it wasn’t padlocked. 

“Whatever it is you think I did, Maya, I didn’t. I think,” you announce in a volume too much for a closed room, stopping when you see Bucky sitting cross-armed and looking delightfully disgruntled. “Oh hey, Barnes. Fancy seeing you here.”

Bucky had met you. The newest addition to the team that had made a grand entrance a couple of weeks ago. He thinks you stay on the floor below him, but he has nothing backing this hypothesis other than the disco funk music that had started appearing at odd hours of the night. 

“Please sit,” Maya cracks a smile at you that Bucky had yet to earn. “Sorry, I know our meeting is scheduled for later, but I figured we could kill two birds with one stone.”

You look between her and Bucky, who hasn’t moved an inch since you got here, much less even said hello.

“You must be really bad if Maya had to call me in,” you tell him outright. “I’m usually like, her last option.”

“Thanks,” Bucky replies dryly. 

“Look, here’s my final pitch.” Maya sighs, before turning to you. “You’re new, and we need something to introduce you slowly to the public.”

“Oh, am I finally getting hard launched?” You grin, and Bucky doesn’t know what that means. “Just imagine me kicking my feet, giggling or whatever.” 

“And he needs… an upgrade.” Maya’s thumb juts out towards Bucky who simply rolls his eyes.

“Right.” Your sight lands on him from across the table. “I’ve seen the memes.”

“What memes?” he grunts, because while the team had definitely seen them, it didn't occur to anyone they should show it to him. He loves them. Really. So much. Die for them. 

You only look too happy to pull out your phone and start typing.

“Do you know what skinwalkers are?” 

“No.”

“That’s what they say you look like, lurking in the back of all your friends’ videos,” you continue, swerving around your phone to show him.

Bucky doesn’t look impressed. He can’t say he blames them either, which makes him inexplicably maddens him.  

“At least they’re calling you their boyfriend,” you add, entirely unhelpfully. “That’s gotta count.”

“Right.” Maya clears her throat. “The both of you–” 

“Are getting paired together, I suppose,” you hum. 

Bucky’s eyebrows pull together. 

He barely knows you. Just a little bit on how you ended up here, that you enjoyed hanging out with the team, figuring out your place in the compound, and were seemingly doing a great job at it. 

You were… loud. And open. 

Bucky feels the compulsive need to compensate for that by doubling down on how silent he could get, as if the two of you couldn’t co-exist in the same space in equilibrium. 

Maya pointedly raises a finger at you. “Do you believe in ghosts?”

“For the right price, I will believe in whatever you tell me to.”

Her face lights up brighter than Bucky's ever seen.

“Great.” Maya slams her laptop closed. “See you later.”

Bucky’s left staring as she exits, not even throwing the both of you another look.

“That was quick,” your voice cuts through the silence. “What was that all about?”

 “Don’ ask me,” he grumbles, with a sinking feeling that he knew exactly what was about to follow. 

“Ghost hunting?” Bucky echoes a week later, as expected.

“Yes,” Maya tells him simply. “Two of you. A series based on paranormal activity.”

“I don’t even believe in them,” he reiterates. 

“That’s the point,” she emphasises. “Skeptic and believer. It makes for a good contrast.”

“Why us both?” He hopes it doesn’t come off as offensive. He just doesn’t see why he can’t do this with Sam. Even Clint, if a gun was really pressed to his head. 

“I’m new, no one gives a shit about me,” you say brightly and full of promise. “Yet.”

“Exactly. It’ll be low key. Not an overwhelming number of viewers, no expectations. It’s perfect for launching one Avenger and re-launching another.”

“Sounds rad.” You grin, leaning back as your feet rest on the chair in front of you.

Maya looks relieved for a moment that at least one of you was on board. “No promises on anything. We shoot one video, and if it does well, we stick with it.”

“What if I don’t want to?” Bucky argues. 

“Then you have until tomorrow morning to give us another feasible idea,” Maya dishes back.

Bucky retreats into his seat, arms crossed over his chest. 

Truth be told, he considered himself to be the most boring person in the team and though he had made his peace with that, he was sure thar bringing that up now would entail Maya shooting him in the foot.

“Fine,” he agrees and the sighs around the room are loud. 

He scoffs. So fucking dramatic and for what.

“Put her there, partner.” You stretch ungracefully over the large table, sticking out your hand.

Bucky eyes your hand. “Do you even believe in ghosts?” 

“I do now, yeah.” You nod seriously. “Love ‘em. Can’t get enough of them.”

“One video,” Maya reminds him as a balm. “And if it doesn’t work, you’re off the hook forever.”

Off the hook? Forever? For Bucky?

Yay. 

“One video,” he reiterates.

You roll your eyes before smiling when he leans forward to grab it. You yank it up and down clunkily. He blinks at you, letting go slowly. 

“Thank fuck,” Maya groans, head dropping onto the table. 

Your smile is wild. “Guess we’re doing this shit together.”

He doesn’t even have to look very deep in his soul. He already knows he’s going to suffer.

here’s my ko-fi if you’d like to support my writing!

to keep up with updates for this fic and others, please follow @shurisneakersupdates and turn on post notifications!

also i'd absolutely love to make this a community led fic like how harmless was! if you have memes or any paranormal ideas or just any prompts in general, please please send them my way <3

Next part

[frodosrings]

calling all my lotr/hobbit fans and writers!

i would love to start a little thing inspired by my randomized ship wheel i did a bit ago….

so i present to you all:

The Tolkien Randomized Pair Writing Event!

are you a writer looking for some inspo? are you someone who has always wanted to write a fanfic but has never had the chance to? do you want to be involved in a fun tolkien fan project? then this is for you!

rules are as follows:

- you spin the “random pair” wheel (below) and you have to write something for the pair you land on. this can be a full-fledged fic, a oneshot, a list of headcanons, a one-liner, anything! if you want to write an 100k+ word fic, yes! do it! if you only want to share one headcanon, yes! do it!

- when you write something from the pair wheel, use the hashtag “#tolkienrandompairs” so we can all have them in the same place and peruse everyone’s writing!

- it does not have to be romantic, but, it absolutely can be too if that’s what you’re feeling! it can showcase hatred, an argument, a friendship, a goofy interaction, a modern au, a deep conversation, it can be about any popular trope we love, it can be absolutely anything you want, it just HAS to be about the pair you land on!

- you can absolutely spin the wheel more than once and write about as many duos as you please!! whether you spin it once or 100 times, just have fun!

- if you write something nsfw, PLEASE mark it as mature or make it very clear that it’s nsfw, as i want everyone to be able to participate and not have to see nsfw if they don’t want to/are minors

- additionally, ofc, if there are any trigger warnings in your writing, please make them clear!

- there is no time limit for this, even if you come across this post a year later and want to be involved, definitely be involved!

- yes, you can write multiple entries for the same pair if you are really having fun with them!

- you can absolutely substitute writing for some cool fanart :)

-there is no time limit for this event!! if it takes you a few weeks or months to prepare a fic, do not fret! i'd like to think we can keep this going for a long time!

- if you have any questions or need clarification, you can dm me or send an ask to my inbox :)

here is the wheel!

have fun! let the writing commence!

some additional notes below:

- you are more than welcome to carry this idea over to other fandoms! idea credits are always appreciated but not necessary!

-there are 378 different pairs on the wheel, so your pair will most likely only be landed on once! take advantage of it!

- i have only included tolkien pairs from the hobbit and the lotr movies, as i feel it is the most inclusive for the widest audience. so, silmarillion characters and characters which were in the lotr and hobbit books but NOT the movies are not included in this

- again, any silm fans are welcome to make a wheel of randomized silm characters!

- NO ship discourse or hate! if someone writes romantically about a pair you don’t ship yourself, allow us all to have fun! this is supposed to bring us together and at the very least is supposed to be a fun writing exercise!

- if you want to post your writing on other platforms like ao3, definitely do it! if your writing is posted on ao3, i would love if you still used the hashtag so that i am able to read what you write!

- be supportive of other peoples writing! leave nice comments, share your thoughts about the pair other people had, interact! let’s have fun!

- some of these pairs don’t exist in the same timeline, pretend they do! or, maybe you want to write about one thinking about/learning about the other, either way, disregard the fact that some might not genuinely ever interact lol!

- feel free to come back and use this wheel as many times as you want, for whatever you want :)

- yes, making this wheel DID take forever! but all worth it!

[halcyone-of-the-sea]

Wow! As the header says, my blog just went past 5k followers - I'd like to extend a heartfelt thank you to everyone who hopped on for this journey; I'm having the time of my life sharing my writing with you all.

In celebration and as a way to have a little fun - I'll be opening my inbox for a day and letting those who want to send in something fill it up!

Now, I know you're probably asking yourself 'Hal, I thought you said requests are going to be closed so you can finish the ones you have and work on the AUs?' And you'd be correct - I did say that. I'm not going to be writing full-length works for this event.

To anyone who sends something in (and follows the rules I have in place on my Request Form (be sure to check it even if you've already read it, I added some more characters and other stuff)) I'll be writing one-to-two page drabbles!

All this being said, after this post is uploaded I'll be opening my inbox up to anyone who would want to participate and closing it exactly one day after!

Thank you again for being the best community ever - I'm incredibly lucky to be surrounded by kind and respectful individuals as well as mutuals who are mind-numbingly sweet. I could not have achieved all of this without you; I think that's beautiful.

This post will also serve as the Masterlist for all of the expected drabbles, so if you'd like to keep updated on what's going to be happening/being written soon, this would be a good place to hang out!

ALL COMPLETED AS OF 11/5/2023

IMAGES USED: A black retriever in an extensive mountainous landscape by Maud Earl & L'angelo, la morte e il diavolo by Roberto Ferri || TOTAL: 5

➣The Perfect One

╰┈➤ ❝ [He stares at the rings under the glass with an acute narrowness to his eyes. He inspects every one as if a bomb might go off at any second, not missing a single detail in the metal.] ❞

➣Get In

╰┈➤ ❝ [Coming home with bruises and stitched wounds, you drag him into the bathroom to wash away the memories.] ❞

➣Hum Me A Tune, Blue-Eyes

╰┈➤ ❝ [You listen to his heartbeat as he keeps you to his chest, his breath tickling your hair.] ❞

➣Here Now

╰┈➤ ❝ [He nearly misses one of the most important moments of your lives together.] ❞

➣Burst Veins

╰┈➤ ❝ [He never noticed you weren't behind him.] ❞

IMAGES USED:  Fallen Angel by Roberto Ferri & Nature of Fear by Nicola Samori || TOTAL: 5

➣Nervous Eyes

╰┈➤ ❝ [No one understands how you two get along - not when you're so different. It makes you second-guess yourself. He notices.] ❞

➣Blood Like Obsidian

╰┈➤ ❝ [Simon can only fight against so many nurses as they shove him back from your operation room.] ❞

➣Supposed To Happen

╰┈➤ ❝ [You died and left him a child he had no idea existed. How can he even begin to try and understand?] ❞

➣Digging Gaze

╰┈➤ ❝ [You indulge in a one-night-stand after you'd both called it quits, only, it leads to more problems. When he sees you again, how will he react to the swelling of your stomach?] ❞

➣Sole Survivor

╰┈➤ ❝ [Your father died years ago, and so you fall under the stiff, and unyielding, protection of your Uncle Simon. But it's not all bad. He can be funny when he wants to be.] ❞

IMAGES USED: White and Black by Vadim Gorbatov & Saint Augustine by Philippe de Champaigne || TOTAL: 7

➣Didn't Mean It

╰┈➤ ❝ [Arguments are rare, certainly ones that leave you in tears.] ❞

➣Him, Her, and the Dog

╰┈➤ ❝ [The woes of pining after a woman whose deadly K9 looks like it hates his guts.] ❞

➣Drunken Sappiness

╰┈➤ ❝ [You can't say you've ever had a boyfriend as perfect as Kyle.] ❞

➣How Do You Listen To That?

╰┈➤ ❝ [It was three a.m. when you all got the call to load up, but what's the best way to wake both yourself and the Sergeant up?] ❞

➣Finally Broken

╰┈➤ ❝ [Childhood friends turned lovers. The realization was far more violent and instantaneous than you'd like to admit.] ❞

➣Don't Look At Her

╰┈➤ ❝ [The bomb starts ticking down, rapidly firing to zero. Gaz won't let Price near you. Not after he'd remembered the Captain's actions when they'd first met.] ❞

➣In His Head

╰┈➤ ❝ [Collection of his SFW and NSFW quirks.] ❞

IMAGES USED: Scene from the Great Flood by Joseph-Désiré Court & Saint Jerome in Prayer by Carlo Dolci || TOTAL: 7

➣Life Snaps By In Flashes

╰┈➤ ❝ [A collection of memories from the second he laid eyes on you. All flashing past in the soft buzzing of the overhead lights.] ❞

➣Heart-Eyes

╰┈➤ ❝ [Being a medic wasn't pretty, but when your boyfriend was the subject under your needle you can't help but enjoy his unwavering gaze. Today, he has something to share with you.] ❞

➣From Ten To Twenty & Beyond

╰┈➤ ❝ [You've known him ever since the incident on the playground, and now you can't help but imagine that same boy as you watch him make supper with flour in his hair.] ❞

➣Find Me

╰┈➤ ❝ [You're finally back in One-Four-One's hands, but that doesn't mean you're saved. Johnny tracks you down after a violent episode.] ❞

➣Still The Same Fools

╰┈➤ ❝ [There was always a rivalry between you two - that hasn't changed even if both of you have. Years later, the boiling point is finally met.] ❞

➣Is This Why?

╰┈➤ ❝ [He finally sees why you never introduced him to your parents.] ❞

➣Oblivious Pining

╰┈➤ ❝ [Johnny hangs off you like a silent beast. Not that you would notice, of course.] ❞

IMAGES USED: King Gustav III of Sweden and His Brothers by Alexander Roslin & Geography lesson by Eduard Karl Gustav Lebrecht Pistorius || TOTAL: 6

KEEGAN P. RUSS:

➣Paint The Dawn; Paint My Eyes

╰┈➤ ❝ [In the midst of war and death, there's little time for pleasure. All you had was a ripped-up sketchbook to call your own, its contents littered with the rough face of your comrade.] ❞

➣Hold Her Close

╰┈➤ ❝ [Keegan cares for his young daughter.] ❞

➣When The Fighting Stops & The Silence Sets In

╰┈➤ ❝ [Continuation of (Don't) Go To War: the aftermath of recovery and a budding relationship.] ❞

➣Movies and Stale Popcorn

╰┈➤ ❝ [Oak and Keegan finally get to watch that movie.] ❞

DAVID 'HESH' WALKER:

➣To The Boy of My Childhood

╰┈➤ ❝ [Ten years came and went fast, but the memory of the Walker boys stayed. One more than the other. You never got to tell him you loved him.] ❞

➣Keep The Sheets Warm, My Love Is Coming Home

╰┈➤ ❝ [If this wasn't enough to prove that you were the only person for Hesh, you didn't know what did.] ❞

IMAGES USED: Saint Catherine of Alexandria by Caravaggio & Amor Vincit Omnia by Caravaggio || TOTAL: 17

CAPTAIN JOHN 'SOAP' MACTAVISH:

➣New Paint

╰┈➤ ❝ [Fighting to forget you, MacTavish finds comfort in whoever he can. Yet, like the layers of paint on the walls, it always peels back to you.] ❞

➣A Song of Gnashing Teeth

╰┈➤ ❝ [There was never a day where the two of you weren't butting heads - everyone was at their wit's end. Of course, you would both be forced to cooperate at some point.] ❞

➣Listen To My Voice

╰┈➤ ❝ [He orders you to focus on him as the sounds outside the cell get closer. He promises nothing will happen to you. You know he's lying.] ❞

➣Look At The Stars; Look At Me

╰┈➤ ❝ [Stargazing in the middle of an overgrown and wild glade.] ❞

➣Alive and Breathing

╰┈➤ ❝ [You're sick. Very sick. John takes drastic action.] ❞

➣I Can See It In Your Eyes

╰┈➤ ❝ [It's finally time to meet the family.] ❞

➣A Green-Eyed Monster

╰┈➤ ❝ [You'd slept together, sure. No strings attached. Then why are you trying to make him jealous? Who cares, the point is that it's working.] ❞

SERGEANT GARY 'ROACH' SANDERSON:

➣Dance With Me Before The Chill Sets In

╰┈➤ ❝ [Tired? Yes, but he's never too tired for you and your loveliness. But maybe you need to remember to lock the door when you're home alone.] ❞

➣Raining Cats and Dogs

╰┈➤ ❝ [Roach has a deep love of storms.] ❞

OPERATION OFFICER ALEX KELLER:

➣Bright-Eyed History Lesson

╰┈➤ ❝ [A librarian with a fascination for war history and a soldier who loves how her eyes light up. Like a dog, he can't stop himself from coming back; smiling like a fool.] ❞

COLONEL ALEJANDRO VARGAS:

➣Hold Me Longer

╰┈➤ ❝ [Mornings spent in the sanctity of warm sunlight and bare skin.] ❞

SERGEANT MAJOR RODOLFO 'RUDY' PARRA:

➣A Love Like Ours Makes Us Strong

╰┈➤ ❝ [Rodolfo came back, alive but bruised. How do you explain how terrified you were?] ❞

COMMANDER PHILLIP GRAVES:

➣Sleeping On The Porch

╰┈➤ ❝ [As it turns out, your husband never really died. It's safe to say you're not overjoyed.] ❞

➣Love Echoes In Silence

╰┈➤ ❝ [You can feel him watching you, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed and a small smile. Humming to yourself, you listen to the birds outside the window.] ❞

SEBASTIAN JOSEF KRUEGER:

➣Ain't Giving Up My Pride

╰┈➤ ❝ [You get on his nerves, partially because you want to. But what happens when he finally snaps?] ❞

ALL 141 INCLUDED (SEPARATE):

➣Count The Hours

╰┈➤ ❝ [Collection of what the One-Four-One do on their down-hours with their Lovers] ❞

➣Wide-Eyed Panic

╰┈➤ ❝ [Why were you behind the couch?] ❞

[uracutieraka]

N Side

༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶

Been crushing on each other for years

But I guess i’d just really like to know if

You feel the same way about me as I feel about you

༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶

Shoyo Hinata x F!Reader

Tw! SMUTTYSMUT, dw tho overall fluffy! Bffs to lovers!

༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶

Synopsis; Hinata receives a surprise visit from an old friend from high school. You know what they say, distance makes the heart grow fonder.

༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶

Hinata and you went wayy back.

Or so he says to everyone when they ask about you.

In reality you had only met the boy 6 years ago. At the beginning of your first year.

Sure 6 years wasnt not a while but with the way the ginger said it, it sounds as if he’d known you forever.

Like you were such a sure part of his life there could be no way you two hadn’t spent everyday together over your whole life.

Truth be told, you also referred to Shoyo in the same regards.

Since you met him it’s as if everything in this massive puzzle we call life had been put together.

Almost like you two were the remaining puzzle pieces.

Finally being put together at the center. Creating the whole picture.

That’s why you had decided for your 21st birthday you would go to visit him in Brazil.

So you called Kageyama who in turn told you off for even calling him over something so stupid as asking for Oikawa’s phone number.

“I don’t even have it y/n!”

“I know you’re lying.”

A brief moment passes before you hear clicking from what could only be his phone’s keyboard.

A huff hits your ears before the black headed boy speaks again.

“It’s in your inbox. Now stop calling me over dumb shit.”

“Yeah yeah, you know you love it when i call you.”

“Bye y/n.”

And with that he hung up, now leaving you to plot and scheme behind your best friends back.

Dialing the number in your inbox you start to second guess yourself.

I mean you dont personally know Oikawa.

Is this weird of you?

“Yello?” A chirpy voice says on the other end of the line.

Welp. Nows better than never.

“Hi. Uhm, is this Tooru?”

“Uhm, yes, who’s this?”

Damn. You forgot to introduce yourself.

“Uhm. Im y/n…Sho’s best friend?”

“Oh! Y/n! I remember you. Youre the cute little manager right? I only met you the once my third year.”

Man is this guy a chatter box or what?

“Yeah! That’s me! So look, I turn 21 next month and was wanting to come down and surprise Sho. So, I got your number from Tobio an-,”

“Ah! Tobio! My protege. He still has my number? I knew he cared about me!,” A hearty laugh over takes your phone speaker. “But hey, i’ll call you back tonight and we can arrange something for ya’! Shoyo’s only 20 feet away from me right now so now’s not the best time.”

“Perfect!”

2 ended phone calls and 3 hours later you finally received a call back from the older man.

6 hours and 1 transition to FaceTime with said man later, your whole trip was planned. Even set with Oikawa confirming plans for the day you land with Shoyo.

(Oikawa told him some friend of a friend was having a birthday dinner and party at a local bar.)

༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶

This is so NOT going as planned.

You had just landed in the foreign land and already things were going south.

You had finally collected your luggage, 2 months worth of luggage in fact, Oikawa had somehow convinced you that a prolonged stay was imperative to ‘restoring Shoyo’s drive to do pretty much anything.”

Apparently he had been down in the dump since coming here 8 months ago.

Oikawa had explained you were the top reason mentioned.

Apparently Hinata would say he ‘just didn’t know how to live without his other half.’

When the man told you this a familiar feeling rose in your tummy, and a heat spread up your neck trailing over your cheeks.

That’s how you ended up with 2 giant suit cases, a large duffel bag, and an oversized carry-on bag full of your belongings.

And now, your uber had just called to inform you that his car had broken down, and he was infact unable to get you.

You had been redirected in the app to another driver.

Who was 50 minutes out.

You look at the time.

You had been flying for over 24 hours since you left Japan.

You decided the time it would take to wait then make the 30 minute drive into the city would eat up any hopes of you getting ready before you go meet Shoyo.

You dial Oikawa’s number, 3 rings and he picks up.

“Hey! Whatsup? You landed? How was your flight? Make it to my place yet?”

You guys decided that since he had a spare room you would crash there so as not to impede on Shoyo or his roomates lives so suddenly.

You begin explaining to him your problem.

“Hm,” you hear him start clicking his tongue, mulling over what to do. “Ok! Im on my way, share your location.”

“Wha-“

He hangs up before you can even say anything else.

So you do as he says.

He makes it to you in 15 minutes.

“That was fast!” You say as he gets out of the car.

“Eh, i have my ways.” He shrugs.

You should have understood what he meant by that.

It was a hint to prepare yourself for the ride ahead.

Your 30 minute drive was easily cut in half by the man.

You saw your life flash before your eyes at least 4 times.

“Alright, well i’ll help you with your bags then leave ya to it! The bar we’re going to is straight down the road, a 4 minute walk to be exact! So we’ll meet you there!”

He grabs your bags easily, much to your dismay and against all your arguments and protests, wanting to help.

Taking you up to the apartment you finally answer all his questions about how the flying was, and he listened to your brief rant about air fare and how it was all a scam.

Laughing and interjecting where he needed to.

He showed you around his apartment a bit, then showed you to his guest room.

It was nice, clean and organized. Surprisingly for a 23 year old bachelor pad.

Especially with the way the man acts, he’s lively and would be one to make you think his life goes by too fast to do such trivial things as make his bed.

“Wow, I don’t know how to thank you for your kindness!” You say bowing in front of him.

“No! Don’t worry about all that. Plus, it’ll be nice to get Shoyo out of this weird slump he’s been in.”

A few minutes later he leaves again, leaving you to do what you needed to do.

Going through your normal routine, you take it slower than usual, now having spared time to do so.

Finally after doing your hair and makeup perfect, you slip on your outift.

It’s simple and cute.

Skinny jeans and a slightly too-tight, to see through, and a very low-cut white tee.

A bright pink bra shows through it from how sheer the material is.

You did this on purpose, there’s no denying you had feelings for your best friend.

But you had also become slightly bolder with the distance that had been put between the two of you.

A desire to make him yours had clouded your mind ever since he left.

Though it had been there long before that, it just seemed to get worse the longer you spent separated from him.

Nights spent wondering if he was with other girls, talking to them, dancing with them, touching them.

You just couldn’t stand the thought of it.

Your ringer chimes.

‘Head this way!’

A message from Oikawa reads.

You make your way to the bar, using the pin he sent you.

He was nice enough to have a bottle of wine pushed against the pillows on your bed when you arrived.

A bow with a little note card adorned it.

‘Enjoy! Pregame a bit ;)’

You finished the bottle before you left.

And the walking had really made you start to feel it.

You were a little more than buzzed and a even newer confidence had surged in your body.

You make your way through the doors, finding the tall brunette and shorter ginger’s heads in the crowd.

You push through sweaty bodies, and a few large men.

Hell bent on reaching the man you had longed for on lonely nights, your hand wondering between your legs, wishing it was him.

Finally you make it to him.

Throwing your arms over his shoulders your hands cover his eyes.

“Guess who~” it’s sweet and sing-songy. A common greeting you two had since your second year, when you guys decided that was for some reason the funniest thing you two had ever done. (It wasn’t)

He grabs your hands spinning around, grabbing your hips.

You rock back slightly, you probably would’ve stumbled farther had it not been for his tight grip on your hips.

“No fucking way!” He yells over the music.

“I was just talking about how much I missed you!” He pulls you forward quickly, moving to grip around your shoulders in a bear hug.

You hug him back, he’s significantly stronger than before, and you can feel the muscles through his shirt.

You pull back from him.

“Let’s fucking drink bitches!” You yell to both the men.

An hour later and you and Shoyo found your way on the dance floor. You guys are facing each other and dancing care-free.

A somg comes on that you recognize. Its slow and has a 70’s funk to it.

Alcohol is pumping in your blood. You know it is for Sho too. All those nights in high school sneaking some from your parents personal collection and getting drunk in secret with the boy helped you figure out when he was and wasn’t under the influence.

You step forward closing the distance between you two.

Your hands rest on his chest as you lean forward to whisper in his ear.

“Sho, I need you.”

Its soft and whiney, you would have never said that sober.

You dont give him time to process before you turn around, pressing your back to his chest, hands flying up to touch each side of his jaw, ass pressing into him.

He takes notice of the fresh manicure on your hands, a french tip set.

He remembers in high school when you had first gotten one, he asked what it was called, and then declared it was his favorite type of nails on you.

And it was, but he wasn’t as innocent with the declaration as you thought, in fact he was far from it.

He was 17 and couldn’t help it, but the thoughts of what your hands would look like wrapped around him, with your cute little french tips was just too much for him.

He snaps out of his thought when your hips sway into him, head falling to rest on his shoulder.

You lightly drag your nails down the sides of his neck before dropping them to continue your swaying and dancing on him.

He moves his hands to fall on your hips, now swaying with you, leaning down he answers you.

“Then come home with me.”

It’s simple, but you know this will change everything. Every dynamic you two have ever had will become something different. Something intense and exciting.

Lust has filled your head, you’re running on pure adrenaline and alcohol. His scent is filling your nose, his warmth is burning on your skin, you’re overwhelmed with all of this.

You spin back around and pull him off the dance floor by his hand, you make your way back to Tooru who hasn’t moved from his spot. But a cute blonde now fills the seat Shoyo once sat in, chatting away with Oikawa.

Shoyo goes up to him, still holding your hand, leaning down he whispers a few words to the other man. Stepping away you see Oikawa give him a wink and thumbs up.

As you both are leaving Oikawa calls out.

“Dont get too crazy kids!”

You chuckle as you’re being dragged along by the ginger.

You didn’t realize Shoyo lived in the same building as Oikawa.

Only a floor apart.

You make it to his door and it seems like something in him breaks, he pushes you against the door in the hallway, kissing you.

You grab at his shoulders.

Moaning into his lips, he deepens the kiss, his tongue slipping past your lips, yours now intertwining with his.

Your hands find their way into his hair as his hands grab at your ass then make their way under your thighs, lifting you up.

You’re now being held between the door and him.

He’s grinding up into you, he’s moving so fervently that you don’t even care if he took you, right here and right now.

He wouldn’t be your first, but you hope he’s your last.

He breaks away from you.

“Not here,” his chest is heaving up and down quickly. “Gonna do this, you, right baby.”

He’s so confident compared to back in school.

Or maybe he’s always been like this and you were just the nervous one.

None of that matters now.

He’s opened the door and guided you inside.

“My roommates working tonight.” He says, now you really study him.

His eyes are blown out, cheeks red, from you or the alcohol is unclear, hes really filled out in the past few months since he’s been here. His hair is slightly longer too.

“Sho,” you say. “I’ve really missed you these past few months. I’ve also had a lot of time to think about things,” you step towards him, putting your arms around his neck you slide closer, having to stand on your tippy toes a bit to get close to being eye level with him. Your eyes are heavy, lids half closed. “I really want to fuck you.” Its low and sultry.

The way you’re looking at him, the sound of your voice, your outfit. The pink bra he recognizes as one he had been eyeing on a shopping trip with you.

You two had gone to the mall together a few weeks before he left, last minute shopping for his big move.

You dragged him into a bra and panty store last second, due to the large sale sign sitting in front of the door.

As you looked around, Shoyo’s eyes were caught off guard by a bright pink fabric. He moved closer to eye it.

It was lacy and the color was perfect.

He pictured you in it, how good it would look on you.

He knew it was wrong but he couldn’t help it.

“That bra,” he breathes out. “It’s the one from the mall back home.”

“You think I didn’t see you looking at it in the store? Plus it’s cute. Right?”

He chuckles a bit before locking eyes with you.

“You’re cute.” He says.

You blush and go to turn your head but before you can he cups the side of your face, turning you back to face him.

He pulls you back in for another kiss. Yet again he picks you up and your legs wrap around his waist. He leads you to his bedroom, kicking the door shut behind him.

Still holding the slow and sloppy kiss he lays you down oh the blankets.

You’re immediately engulfed in a comforting and familiar smell.

All the days and nights spent in his room, sleeping over, laying together much closer than best friends should.

Feet entangled under the blankets as you two face each other and giggle over nothing.

Now this is different, not sweet and innocent, no, its much more than that, this is sinful and gluttonous.

He’s on top of you leaving wet, hot kisses down your jaw and neck, following the collar of your v-neck, he kisses the exposed parts of your breasts.

Once he reaches the point in the v he stops, only to start pulling your shirt up, you sit up right and quickly discard of it. He guides his hand up to trace the hem of the bra gently for a moment, before grabbing your face and pulling you back in.

You reach back up to cup his face in both your hands, pulling him closer to you.

He reaches between your bodies and unbuttons your jeans with ease.

“Take these off.”

Its stern and desperate.

You immediately obey and move to stand in front of him.

You face him and make a show out of discarding your pants.

You turn around, back now facing him, and slowly you shimmy your pants down, bending over to pull them down, slowly, arching a bit as you do.

Once the pants are at your ankles, you stand back up even slower.

Finishing your little tease act, you turn back around.

Shoyo’s eyes are wide and it seems like he’s malfunctioning.

“Sho?” You say, sweet as could be.

“You are so fucking sexy, holy fucking shit.” A smile now crosses his face.

A giggle escapes your lips.

“C’mere,” he stands up grabbing you gently, hands wrapping themselves around you before he quickly does a 180° with you in his arms.

You squeal as he yet again pins you under him.

“But really, who d’ya think you are showing up here, wearing a cute lil’ bra, nails done how i like, oh, and not to mention, these cute panties to match! Y’know im starting to think you only came here to have sex with me.” He says, he’s always been bold but you didn’t expect him to be like this.

“Mhm,” you nod your head no. “I came here because I missed you Sho.”

He smiles at the admission. Standing up to pull his shirt off, he loses his breath when he looks down.

You’re on your elbows, legs tucked up so your knees are in the air. You’re eyes are heavy and seductive. The way you’re positioned and looking at him is pornographic.

He literally moans out loud before ripping off his shirt, then he quickly pushes his pants off.

Eagerly he crawls back over you.

“M’gonna fuck you so good.”

His words send a shiver down your spine, you’ve only seen him like this before a volleyball match.

He yet again captures your lips, kissing down you again, this time though, he trails down your stomach stopping at the top of your underwear.

But instead of taking them off he pushes your underwear to the side.

He spits onto your already wet heat.

You gasp at the sensation then cut yourself off with a small whimper when he slides a finger up and down you.

He stands up, pulling you to the edge of the bed. He drops his underwear, stroking himself for a second before spitting on his hand and continuing the motions.

“I think you’re ready f’me baby. Don’t you?” He says it so condescendingly, like he doesn’t think youre actually ready.

“Please Sho, need you s’bad.”

He groans rolling his head back for a moment before he pushes your underwear back over.

He guides his tip to go up, causing a slight moan to leave your mouth.

“No teasing!” You say quickly.

He chuckles, “Ok, ok, I wont.”

He lines himself up and pushes into you.

He girthy and bigger than you expected.

Definitely the biggest you’d ever had.

“F-fuck! You’re so fucking tight oh my god.” He’s breathing raggedly.

He sits still in you for a moment until you rock your hips forward.

“Move Sho.” You say.

And he does.

He’s throwing you in insane positions you didn’t even know you could do.

But as his thrusts get sloppier he stops, flipping you over to be in missionary.

“Why’d you stop?” You ask, breathless.

“Shh, im not stopping.” He says.

Suddenly he has you pinned down. Legs spread wide, as he presses over you.

Arms hooked around the backs of your knees as you’re now in a mating press.

He bottoms back out into you.

“Ah! Fuck! Feels s’good Sho!”

He’s selfish. He knows he is.

Who is he to throw you in 8 different positions in the past 40 minutes? Twisting you and contorting you in crazy ways.

It’s your doing. You and him both know that.

You came to Brazil, surprised him, wore a matching set, had your nails done just the way he likes. Not to mention the multiple times you had straight up said you wanted to sleep with him over the course of the night.

He picks up the pace, he’s moving out of you so quickly and harshly, your eyes are rolled into the back of your head.

Your moaning a jumble of his name and other gibberish, which he assumes is supposed to be words.

“Baby,” he speaks through his teeth. “Need ya’ to cum fa’ me. Cant keep going much longer m’self.” Its broken up through his grunts and smacks of his hips onto you.

You werent even really close so it surprised you that his simple words seemed to completely take you over the edge.

You’re shaking and calling his name loudly, nails gripping his sheets.

He continues his rough pace, until he yet again slows down, his groans are getting louder and whiney.

“F-fuck! M’gonna cum!” He’s now folded over you, forehead touching yours.

“In me Sho! Cum in me baby!” You say, moaning at just the thought of him filling you up.

“Ah! Fuck!” He slows his movements down. Adjusting so your legs now rest around his waist. He drops his full weight on you.

Your hands make their way to his hair, playing with it between your fingers.

You’re both breathing heavily.

“Sho?”

“Mm?”

“Can we be boyfriend and girlfriend?”

He shifts his head so his chin is resting on your stomach as he now makes eye contact with you.

“I was just about to ask you that!”

Small, love-drunk and real-drunken giggles fill the room.

The mans breathing slowly gets softer and softer.

Its only when he hums a bit and rubs his face on you, in a weak attempt at getting closer, that you realize he’s in fact asleep.

Masterlist

[buckys-little-belle]

Henlo! If it's okay, could you make write a fic about Bucky comforting his little during a thunderstorm? A storm was near my house a few days ago and the thunder scared me so bad-- The power didn't go out, but storms usually happen a lot where I live-- thanks <3

Rainy Days

Bucky Barnes x Little!Reader (They/Them Pronouns used/No Pronouns used)

Warnings - Reader is scared of storms, reader eats snacks, talks of loud noises, talks of lightning/flashing lights, descriptions of a thunderstorm, ready is sad and scared, Bucky is sweet and thoughtful!

Notes - I made this headcannons, I hope that's okay! Honestly I've been going through my inbox and drafts and trying to clear them out, but writing full fics is something I have to be in the right mood for. But headcannons? I've been feeling headcannons lately, so do send some headcannon requests in if anyone has some! And please expect very old asks to suddenly resurface in the shape of fics/headcannons written literally years later <3

SFW - Please keep all interactions with this post, and this blog, SFW!

. ☆ . ☾ . ☆ . ☽ . ☆ . ☾ . ☆ . ☽ . ☆ .

You've always been scared of thunderstorms. Rain is nice from time to time, but when the loud booms of thunder begin and lightning strikes, you suddenly begin to feel scared.

It's not rational, you know the thunder can't get you and that if you're inside you're safe from lightning. Yet when the storm begins to get louder and the rain begins to pelt harder, you find yourself curled up wherever you are, stuffie held safely to your chest.

Bucky could tell you'd get antsy whenever rain drops would begin racing on the windows, you'd stare outside seemingly waiting for something to happen.

After the first thunderstorm you two witnessed together Bucky knew he needed to be prepared for the next one. He hated seeing you cry, and how scared you got. He felt helpless and vowed to make sure that didn't happen again.

So now he has a small bin in his closet labeled "Rainy days". Inside are a pair of headphones he bought that block out any noises. It's made chatting between the two of you hard on those rainy days, you yelling because you can't tell just how loud you are, and him doing his best to charades his words. But because it rains so often, you two have had time to practice, and communication comes much easier.

He bought you little stickers to put on the headphones, so that instead of just plain boring black headphones, you have ones decorated by your favourite cartoon characters and fun little stickers of plants and dinosaurs.

He also has special activities for the two of you to do on those days. He wanted something different than the toys you have all the other days. This way you stop feeling dread thinking about thunderstorms, now that feeling is over taken with a subtle excitement for the special glitter crayons in the box, and the really cute stuffed animal named "Rainy" that you get to snuggle with.

Bucky always buys those PDF files on etsy that are colouring pages. For $2 he gets 6-10 fun pages, and he'll print them out for you on his fancy work printer. He finds it easier than buying colouring books because there's no risk of ripping your colouring when you evidently want to rip the page out and put it on the fridge. Plus he finds it over all cheaper, and there are no more tears when you don't like the way you coloured something, sad that you can't do that pretty picture anymore, he just prints out a second one.

Bucky is also a fan of physical media. He has both a DVD and a VCR player. So he has two movies stashed in the box that you really like for those rainy days, and those rainy days only. He doesn't know how, but you've been able to connect your headphones to the Tv, so you can't hear the thunder when you're watching them.

Also snuggles, rainy days mean as many snuggles as you want. Doesn't matter if he's on a work call, doing the laundry, or in the middle of making dinner. If you come up and ask for a hug you end up getting 20 minutes of snuggles and soothing back rubs.

You don't venture outside when it's a thunderstorm, but Bucky has been warming you up to "liking" rainy days by showing you how fun puddles can be.

He buys you a cute raincoat and matching boots, and as long as there's no thunder or lightning, he'll take you outside and splash in the puddles for an hour.

Instead of being terrified of thunderstorms, and hating the days they happen, you've slowly been able to accept that they'll happen sometimes, and you've grown to know your safe, very safe because Bucky is always at your side on those days. Ready to comfort you, ready to play whatever game you want, and ready to jump in puddles when possible.

[cheolsblackgf]

office encounters [l.jh]

⇒ woozi x reader

⇒ word count: 3.8k (including the bonus)

⇒ warnings: just some insults but nothing too crazy

⇒ content: office romance; rivals to lovers; some kissing yadda yadda; little bit of girl bossing

⇒ note: hello pls don’t @ me about how long it’s been i already know.. didn’t think this would mark my return bc i wrote this almost a year ago but lowkey i kinda cooked with this one so i thought i’d share.. also side note PLEASE come to my inbox if you find an error bc i literally proofread like 14 times looking for this one error i saw before but it just disappeared or smth idk so if you find it i’ll give you a brownie!!! anyways 시작해볼까요

“You look pretty today.”

Jihoon from corporate communication usually has a sarcastic quip for you when you cross paths in the copy room. Where humor comes easy for him, annoyance comes easy for you the same. You both seem to get on each other’s nerves in all the right ways; never enough to report the other to HR, but enough that you’d steer clear of him the entire day if he said something that got under your skin. Something like, “Why’s marketing’s posters suck so bad?” He’ll ask, and subsequently answer himself with, “Oh, that’s right. ‘Cause you’re the one making them.” Either he doesn’t know you spend so much time figuring out which design looks best, or he knows and purposely wants to get you riled up. It works, because you’re an emotional person and if someone criticizes your work, it feels like a personal attack.

This time, though, you’re making flyers for the office yard sale slash fundraiser, and he’s making copies of coupons for the local stores. Since there are about forty floors in your building, you’ll easily be occupied for at least two hours, hanging multiple flyers on each floor. Jihoon has his hands full as well, he makes one hundred copies for each store, with there being four stores total in the area. Luckily, you go to the copier first, so when he walks in, you quickly rest with a smug smile on your face.

“Hey,” he says casually. You’re waiting for him to tell you to hurry your ass up on the copier but he doesn’t. Hey?

Instead, you respond, “Hi,” and turn back to the copier to see how many sheets are left. Still sixty five.

“You look pretty today.” He tries next. You almost hit cancel on the print job right then and there. How can he say something like that. You look pretty today? Try again, Lee! It’s not gonna work!

You don’t immediately thank him for his compliment. You just think that somehow, he’ll add in a “—pretty ugly!” and then laugh it off. That’s the Jihoon you know. Not this “hey” man. Usually when you walk into the copy room, he groans and rolls his eyes. He always has a dig ready, too. “Didn’t realise it was loser day at the copy machine.” He’d say. You always have something to come back at him with. “Must be why you’re here.” It doesn’t seem like he’ll bicker with you today at all.

The display on the machine says there’s still forty sheets left. That means you can either pretend you left something at your desk and quickly exit the room until it’s done, or you can brave it and see what this guy is up to.

The second one. “I look pretty today? What are you up to?” You narrow your eyes at him, assuming there’s either a catch or some sort of joke hidden in his praise.

“No gimmicks,” he shrugs. “I just call it like I see it.” Oh, okay.

He’s standing on one side of the machine with you at the other. The polite smile stained on his face drives you up a wall. You feel like if you reciprocate it, it’ll be overkill. Him complimenting you doesn’t change the fact that you are office enemies. His team and your team often clash, as they’re the ones that share your team’s ideas with the higher ups, only after an intense filtering which often strips your ideas down to nothing. It always sucks because he acts so smug about it when your ideas don’t get pitched how you envisioned them. “Get some better ideas then,” he’d say. Of course, you can’t go out like that, so you tell him “Tell your team to think of one idea to begin with. You get your rocks off by stealing ours, your department would be helpless without us.” It’s mostly true, but sometimes, Jihoon has good ideas. When you two are having a good day, you’ll show each other ideas and give helpful feedback. But that usually doesn’t happen if either one of you has a quip locked and loaded already.

“Didn’t realise your mouth was able to produce compliments when it comes to me.” Twenty two sheets left. He reaches over you for the mini scotch tape. “You know, usually when someone compliments you, you just say thank you and forget about it in five minutes.” While he focuses on his task with the tape, you stare at the display on the copier and watch the number of sheets remaining go down, just so you don’t have to look at him.

He’s never called you pretty before. You need everyone to understand this. The only times he compliments you are rare and they’re always work related. Nice job during that tug of war. Those prints look great. These tchotchke designs would surely sell well. The dessert you brought to the potluck was delicious.

New to the list: you look pretty today.

You’re not sure how to feel internally, but externally, your mind is already made up. You’re annoyed. How could he say something like that with such a serious face and not be joking? Why couldn’t he be joking?

“I would say thank you, but I don’t know what this is.” He raises his eyebrows at your comment. “This? I don’t know what it is either because I can’t figure out what you’re talking about.”

The copier chimes to tell you the print job is finished. You log out of the machine and move aside to collect your sheets. You’ll definitely have to make a second trip—and perhaps with a box of some sort to hold all of the sheets—but you just want to leave this room.

Jihoon starts to grab a stack of the sheets as well. “Where are these going?” He asks, sounding nothing but sincere.

“Don’t know yet. I have to put them on each floor, though. I’ll find something to put them in in a little bit.”

“D’you need help?”

You set the sheets down. “Okay, listen. I was fine playing that game three minutes ago, but I don’t get it. Every day you look at me like the bane of your existence. You tell me my designs suck, you only fill my tea mug halfway when I ask for some, and you hog the copy machine whenever I need to use it. What gives?”

It would be hard to refute the fact that Jihoon is very handsome, and you have imagined an alternate universe where he was nice to you and even flirted with you, but nothing past that. You’ve never thought of what it would be like to be his girlfriend, to wake up in the morning beside him, to have him fill your tea mug up until it’s full, to meet in the copy room to steal a few extra kisses—okay, maybe a couple times you’ve thought of this. But it almost always gets overshadowed by his behaviour towards you. He is rude to you. He doesn’t like you enough to give up the act, but he also doesn’t hate you enough to ignore you completely. He has some sort of balance that only works with you. He playfully fights with other coworkers, but only as a stand-alone. Your feud is cemented into the very foundations of the building you each show up to every morning at seven o’clock on the dot. It’s ritualistic. It’s familiar. It sucks.

Jihoon leans against the wall and crosses his arms. “What gives? I just think you look pretty today. Can’t a man compliment his pretty coworker once? It’s really not that unheard of, but if you think something else is going on, you’re right. I like you. I never said it before because I assumed you also liked me which is why we do what we do, but I’m getting the feeling you don’t feel the same way which is fine. We can just go back to how we were and forget this ever happened.”

You take the stack of copies you were holding before and quickly leave the room. Once they’re placed on your desk, you awkwardly make your way back to the copy room and get the next set of sheets. Jihoon hasn’t moved from his position against the wall even after you’ve signed off of the machine and relocated the copies out of the way.

Truthfully, you just didn’t know what to say. Him confessing this way was not only unexpected, but also a bit annoying. To think, he’s liked you all this time but consistently and routinely found enjoyment in belittling you. Granted, you also took part in it against him, but only as retaliation and defense for yourself. The whole reason this rivalry started was because he made a comment against you. Why would you be mean to someone you like?

The week goes by slowly without Jihoon’s teasing. He comes by your cubicle once to offer you a mini cupcake from the convenience store on the fifth floor. You decline. He doesn’t come back again.

You thought of pulling him aside to really unpack and discuss everything, but then you consider how much worse it could get if you do that. Things are already pretty bad if neither of you have spoken or even just said hi to each other.

By Friday of the next week, though, you’ve had it with the silence. Your cubicle conveniently is in view of the copy room so you slyly watch the door waiting for Jihoon to go in there. He always prints to-do sheets on Friday for everyone in his department for the following week. At eleven on the dot, you see him disappear in there and you make your move immediately, booking it for the room.

You casually walk in and shut the door, but not before making sure no one was coming. No one really likes it when the door to the copy room is shut because people have been caught doing … things in there, but this shouldn’t take you long. Definitely not enough time to do … things with anyone.

“Hey,” You try, in the same tone as he used with you last week. He looks up from the machine and gives you a confused yet tired look. “What are you doing?” He sighs.

“You look pretty today.” You smile, hopping up on the counter and swinging your legs. He finishes signing in on the printer and runs his print job. He turns around to face you fully. “If you’re here to make fun of me for being nice to you, I think it’s best you stop now because I don’t find it amusing.”

You grin at him. “The opposite actually. I think it’s cute that you like me, but I really wish you would’ve asked me on a date first. And maybe just been nicer to begin with?” Both your eyes dart to the door as a polite knock is heard from the outside. You jump down from the counter and place your hands on Jihoon’s shoulders from behind. Your head rounds the side of his face. “Walk me to my car later?” And he agrees.

You go to let the person in and see yourself out. It feels a bit elementary, that proposal. Walk me to my car? gives the same energy as walk me home from the bus stop? and if you weren’t already getting some twisted wave of déjà vu, you definitely are now.

You didn’t know Jihoon until last year when he started working for this company. The previous person in his position suffered an extreme illness that forced them to resign so he promptly had to fill their position. He wasn’t trained that well, but he’s done the best he could thus far. You don’t know what you would do if he wasn’t in the office. Of course, some of your coworkers are also people you get drinks with from time to time, but Jihoon feels the most… familiar. Despite having never met with him outside of the office, he feels like the most grounding person since he doesn’t put on any front or act with you. You wouldn’t let him either. That’s why his confession feels so out of left field on the one hand, but normal on the other. He doesn’t hide how he feels from you, but he must have if he’s liked you and hasn’t said it until now.

Later comes. It’s 3:42 PM when you finally wrap it up for the day. Jihoon usually leaves earlier than you, but it appears he waited to clock out so you two would leave at the same time.

Okay, you’ll admit that’s sweet. You don’t think you’d do the same for him, but only because you don’t like your job enough to stay any later.

He meets you at your cubicle. “All done?” He asks, moving into your space to help you with your things. “Yep. If you could just carry this bag for me, that would be great, thank you.” He takes the bag from you with no qualms and waits patiently as you gather the rest of your belongings.

You were sadly unable to finish all the work you meant to get done today, so you’re leaving with a bit of homework—namely designing some flyers for part two of the yard sale slash fundraiser. The first fundraiser didn’t go as planned, so the upper level management suggested a second instalment.

Jihoon probably has the same amount of work too, so you wonder how he’s leaving the office empty handed.

On the elevator ride down, neither of you say anything. All you do is stare at the bright red floor descent display and wait until it gets to 1. Upon this happening, Jihoon lets you off first and you lead the way to the parking garage.

“I take it you didn’t get a lot done today?” He wonders, surveying the various items you’re carrying. “Sadly. Honestly, if Claudette hadn’t announced the second fundraiser, I’d be as carefree and empty handed as you.” You meant to come off as nonchalant, but judging by the way Jihoon completely stopped in his tracks upon your completion of the sentence, it was everything but that. “Carefree and empty handed?” He parrots in disbelief.

“CC is scrambling to get Q3 numbers up before having to report to corporate and nothing is working. Honestly, if Claudette didn’t conjure up another fundraiser, you would’ve had to find another sad sap to carry your things to your car because I wouldn’t be here right now.” He explains, which makes you laugh a bit but otherwise frown. You didn’t realise the company’s numbers were so far down that the fundraiser is essentially a double edged sword, but you figured it couldn’t have been for no reason.

Jihoon has always been very efficient with his work, even if about two months ago (maybe even less) you would’ve scoffed and said otherwise. “You’ll figure it out. You always do.” You say, meaning to be encouraging but not entirely sure if it came off that way. “Thanks. You too.”

With your hands full, you couldn’t grab your keys to unlock your car so you have Jihoon do it for you. “Where is this bag going?” He holds it up just in case you forgot which bag it is. “Uh, you can just throw it in the backseat. Well, don’t literally throw it but um—”

“I got it.” He chuckles at your disorganised thoughts.

Once all of your things are settled in the car, you close everything up and stand face to face with Jihoon. “Thank you for the help, I really appreciate it.” You say. “Anytime. I hope you get all your work done.” You reflect the wish back to him. Sadly, you guys just awkwardly stand there for a bit before realising this conversation is not going anywhere else.

“Well, I guess I’ll see you tomorrow, hm? You have my number, right?” He nods and bids you goodbye. You get into your car but don’t start it. Instead, you watch through your rearview mirror as Jihoon turns the corner to the staircase. Had you known his car was on a different level, you would’ve offered to drop him off since the parking garage’s elevator is out of commission. However, in hindsight, the conversation was already awkward enough.

Later that night, you two text back and forth for multiple hours. All the way until 2AM you guys were exchanging messages. He’s really a sweet guy even over text.

At 2:19, he texts you goodnight and says he’ll see you in the morning.

In the morning, like you expected, you see Jihoon milling about the office floor. He sends you a wave, but his hands are full so it’s nothing more than that. You try to catch him to offer your help, but he disappears in an instant.

The flyers you were supposed to make were only half done because most of your time last night was spent talking to Jihoon. You’re extremely guilty, and you feel horrible because you know all the work you have will carry into the weekend, but you made your bed.

Eventually, Jihoon visits you at your cubicle and apologises for keeping you up last night. “It’s not your fault. I wanted to talk to you.” He smiles at this and gives your shoulder a supportive pat. “You’ll get it done.”

For the rest of the day, he leaves you alone—other than bringing you a mug of tea—and honestly, that was for the best. You do manage to catch up on and finish all the work so you text Jihoon the good news. He suggests ice cream after work to celebrate and you agree.

Your manager stops by your cubicle to compliment your hard work. “And I saw you being extra smiley with Jihoon. Good luck.” Before you can refute her statement with any type of defense, she disappears.

Extra smiley. Hm.

At the end of the day, Jihoon meets you at your cubicle once again and this time, you don’t have anything for him to carry except your comically large tote bag that you bring into the office everyday. Before you two leave, you grab your heels from under your desk that you change out of everyday upon arrival to the office. You attempt to put them in your bag, but Jihoon shakes his head. “Put those on.”

“Why?”

“We’re going out to dinner. As a date.” He reveals. You drop the heels back on the floor. “You really are a sad sap.” You remark, sliding one of your sneakers off. “Not for everyone.”

“So you’re saying I’m special?”

“Something like that, yeah.” He speaks nonchalantly. Coming from him, though, these words mean a lot to you. Ever since his initial confession, you can tell not all of his confidence is there. But it’s your goal to show him that he doesn’t have to try as hard, he’s already got you.

As you struggle with getting your sock off, Jihoon groans. “Hurry up, the reservation is for six o’clock.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Reservation? Wow, you must really like me.” He watches as you slip the other heel on. “You know that already. Come on.” He grabs your hand and leads you to the elevator. You press the down button and wait for the elevator to come up. In that time, Jihoon takes your bag from you and fixes the wrinkles in your dress.

The two of you step into the elevator and after hitting 1, the doors close and it begins its descent. In the reflective doors, Jihoon stares at you. “You’re so pretty.” He says. “Am I?” You respond. He nods. “Thank you, my sad sap.” You add, pausing for dramatic effect.

“Okay, you were pretty until about five seconds ago.” He clarifies, but holds your hand tighter all the while. He thinks maybe you’re right, he is a sad sap. But only when it comes to you.

[the end]

SIKEEEEE

BONUS

You’re almost giggling on your way to the copy room. As soon as you saw Jihoon go in there, you knew it was your cue. It wasn’t any type of plan or anything, but lately, you guys have only been able to meet in the copy room because everyone has gotten extremely suspicious of you guys and you didn’t wanna say anything.

As soon as you make it to the room, you shut the door and see your boyfriend already working on the machine. You hop up and make your place on the counter while Jihoon does his thing. “Clear?” He asks with his back to you. “Clear. For now. Come here.” You hold your arms out just as he turns to you and he makes his way over. “Missed you last night.” You whisper. He leans in to your embrace and presses a kiss to your lips. “Me too. Let’s get dinner tonight.” All your plans with Jihoon have been spontaneous because the workload has been unpredictable lately. If you both end the day with no incomplete assignments, you’ll go out and do something together, but if not, you save it for another day.

His print job ends and he reluctantly breaks away from you to go grab his copies. There’s only maybe twenty in the stack, but he asks you if you have any to make. You hand him the sheet you’re copying and he starts it up for you while you wait patiently on the counter. You zone out to the sound of Jihoon clicking around on the printer settings, so much so that you don’t hear him when he asks you how many copies you need. He asks again, “How many copies, baby?”

“Oh! Sorry, thirty-six please.” He’s not annoyed you weren’t listening. In fact, he smiles a little bit and is amused.

He inputs the amount you need and waits for the machine to start printing before making his way back to you. “What do you feel like for dinner?” He asks, caging you in with his arms. “Not sure, but not seafood.”

He pouts. “But baby, I love seafood.”

“Then you can go get seafood and I’ll stay home and watch Queen of Tears.” He gasps at this idea. Even though you’re not serious, he fakes being upset for a second.

A moment later, the door opens and your manager Claudette walks in. She doesn’t see you two right away, but once she does, she says “Oh brother,” and walks right out. She leaves the door open and you can hear her call out to someone else and say, “You owe me twenty dollars!”

You and Jihoon exchange a look. “Who do you think she’s talking to?” You ask him. He pauses for a second and moves away from you. “Me.”

“What?” But he’s already on his way out of the room. “See you later!” He doesn’t realise that he’s forgotten his copies so you’ll definitely be seeing him again soon.

The office will definitely be on fire by tomorrow with this news, you’re already aware. On the bright side, though, you can finally celebrate your first public couple activity: getting bullied by the entire office.

[the end (real)]

masterlist

[qrrieterisunnq]

This Is It - Quinn Hughes

fading beneath illusion

QUINN!HUGHES x JACKIE!CROSS MINORS DNI - 18+ content below the cut — WARNINGS: mentions of guns, shooting, fighting, mafia — SUMMARY: The day that changed Jackie and Quinn’s lives in many ways. — WORD COUNT: 2,7K — AUTHOR'S NOTE: Hii! Welcome to our first chapter in this AU! If you have any questions, thoughts or anything for this AU, don't hesitate to ask, my inbox is open! I hope you'll like it. Probably not the best first chapter, but you know me. I think I will write the next one in the present tense. PART OF FADING BENEATH ILLUSION AU

2 years ago

“I cannot believe you did that,” Everest said to Jackie as they walked down the hallway of the Seattle FBI. Laughing, she shook her head and headed towards her office.

“I just did what I thought would be necessary to do. It is not my fault that he did what he did.” She giggled, opening the door to her office, but she was stopped in her tracks by the familiar face of her boss. Her father.

“Sir,” Everest said, with a curt nod, while Jackie just stood there, with confusion all over her face.

“Agent Shaw,” he nodded at him, not moving from his place behind Jackie’s desk. “Please leave me and Agent Cross alone.” He said with an authoritative voice.

“Of course, Sir!” Everest said, and in two quick strides, left the room, not before giving Jackie a thumbs up.

As soon as Everest was gone, her dad let his bossy facade down and looked at his daughter with concern.

“What is going on, dad?” Jackie asked, walking towards him.

“There is something we need to talk about.” His voice was full of seriousness and worry. Jackie could hear it and see it in the way he was holding his body.

“Okay,”

“Sit down, please,” he pouted towards the guest chair she had in front of her table. She sat down, nervousness tingling her fingertips, but she didn't dare to say anything. “You know the Vancouver mafia case, in Canada?”

“The Canucks mafia?” her father nodded in confirmation. “Yeah, I heard about it, why?” she asked with furrowed brows. She was confused. Why would her father talk about the Canadian mafia when it is not in their jurisdiction?

“The CSIS asked for help. Those above us had chosen you to be the help,” he clarified, rubbing down on his chin. “In four hours you are going to be a part of the Canucks Mafia.”

“I will what?” she asked, getting up from her seat.

“You heard me, Jackie. This is an important mission. Both for you and for the FBI and CSIS,” her father stood up and walked to her, his hands clasping on her shoulders to stop her from pacing. “This is a big opportunity for you. If you are going to be successful and bring the mafia to its knees, everyone in the FBI Academy will study about you.”

“W-when am I leaving?” she asked, completely forgetting if he already told her or not. She was trying to process everything her father had just said. She. In Mafia. In Vancouver. For how long? What if they find out she is with the FBI?

No, she couldn’t think like that. She knew she was the best FBI agent in Seattle. She worked hard for her place there.

“Right now. Mom already packed your things, there is a car waiting for you. They will drive you to the airport, where you'll meet Agent Dunn,” he and Jackie slowly exited her office and made their way to the elevator as her dad was speaking. “He will tell you everything you need to know about your undercover.”

“Okay, can I at least say bye to mom, to the boys, and Beck?”

“Yeah, they are all waiting in the conference room. You have only ten minutes; make it quick, Jackie.” He said with a sigh, his eyes not daring to look at his daughter. Because if he did, he would have to lock her in her old room and not let her leave for Vancouver.

He was aware of how dangerous this mission was, but he had no right to stop her from doing it. Not when she was the only one to pull it off. He was proud of her, but she was still his little girl.

“You won’t come with me?” she looked at him, noticing his shallow breathing and his tensed shoulders.

His throat bobbed before he answered, “No, but I will say my bye before you leave for the airport.”

“Okay,” she swallowed, and with a last look at her dad, she exited the elevator and quickly made her way inside the conference room.

“Jackie!” her mom’s voice calls out, tears forming in her eyes at the sight of her daughter.

“Hey mom,” she smiled at her, closing the door behind her. “I guess dad already told you, right?”

“Yeah,” her mom choked on her tears and strolled towards Jackie to pull her in for a tight hug. Jackie looked at her three siblings, who were sitting by the table, watching them. “You have to be careful, baby.”

“I know, mom. I will,” she whispered into her shoulder and then pulled away. “I am going to be just fine.”

“So, Vancouver, huh?” Joe wiggled his brows and stood up to give her a tight hug, the same going for Aaron and Becka.

“Yeah, Vancouver.” She smiled softly at them as she stroked Becka’s hair, who was still snuggled in her embrace.

“How long will you be gone?” Becka asked, looking up at her older sister.

“I don’t know, Becks. A few months, maybe a year.” She had no idea. These kinds of missions are different every time. Some of the agents got home after a few months, some of them got back after a year, and others didn’t even got to get back because the people found out who they were.

“But you’ll be able to stay in contact with us, right?” Aaron looked at her as he stood next to Joe.

“I…I don’t think so.”

“What do you mean by that?” this time it is Joe, who spoke up, again.

“That I won’t be able to contact you in any way.”

The room is quiet for a while, none of them knowing what to say.

“I have like five minutes before I need to go, so… yeah, I just came to say bye.” She said, breaking the silence. This was the thing for her mom to stand up and pull her in a tight hug again.

“Be careful, okay?” She whispered in her ear as she pulled away.

“I will.”

Following up, her siblings hugged her and said their goodbyes while they told her how much they would miss her.

 “Agent Cross. My name is Vinn Dunn. I am the head agent on this case, and I will be your safe contact. I’ll tell you everything on the plane.  You can say your last goodbye with Agent Cross before we take off.” Agen Dunn said as soon as Jackie set her foot on the railway and shook his hand.

She looked behind herself at her father, who was standing with his hands behind his back.

“I am so proud of you, Jackie,” he sighed, walking closer to her. “I need you to be strong, okay. Don’t let anyone in your head. Forget you are an FBI agent. From now on, you are a completely new person, okay?”

Jackie nodded her head, swallowing hard. It is finally hitting her. She is going to Vancouver to take down an entire mafia.

“I will, dad. I promise.” She nodded and pulled her dad in for a tight hug.

“I love you babygirl.”

“I love you too, daddy.”

“Agent Cross.” Agen Dunn called from the stairs that led inside the jet that was standing a few feet behind her.

“I am coming!” she called back and then looked back at her father. “I’ll see you, someday.” With those words, she made her way inside the jet, but not before looking back at her dad and waving to him for the last time.

“Come sit down, Agent Cross,” Dunn motioned towards the seat in front of him. “We have a lot to discuss.”

Swallowing hard, Jackie took her seat while looking for her belongings. “Where are my things?” she asked, pulling her hair into a messy bun.

“My men already took care of them. They are in the bedroom,” he explained, pointing at the door behind him. “Now, shall we get into work?” Without another thought, Jackie nodded her head.

Agent Dunn rested his elbows on the table as he handed her a black folder with a red Classified stamp in the middle. “This is your new life,” he leaned back in his seat. “Your name is Ava Brooks. You are from a small town, Ballinafad near Toronto, but you have been living in Vancouver for four years now. You’ve got a bit of record, nothing serious, just enough to make you appealing to Canucks. Smuggling, hacking, a couple of cons.” he summarised her new life and gave her a while to open and read the folder.

She scanned the profile, and the fake history was already starting to burn itself into her mind. Ava Brooks. She needed to become her. Completely.

“No family, no ties. You keep your head down, but you’re damn good at what you do. You’ve gotten attention from a few of the mafia’s scouts. That’s where we come in.”

“How do I get in?” she asked, looking up from the folder.

“We have information that they should be in the docks, taking over a delivery of guns. The location is in the file,” Dunn continued, pulling out photos. “These are the men who will be taking over the delivery.” Dunn put three photos in front of her. “Brock Boeser, Filip Hronek, and Conor Garland. These three plus Elias Petterson are the closest to Quinn Hughes.”

“Which means I need to be on their good side, got it.” she said as she examined the photos. She already knew how Quinn looked, his face was printed in front of her eyes. His sharp nose and jaw, full lips and those icy blue eyes.

“Exactly. Anyway, on how you get in. When they take over the delivery, one of our men will be on the roof with a laser sniper pointing it at Boeser, we are positive Hronek or Garland will notice it and guns will be pointed, and when they start to fight, that is when you came in.”

Jackie nodded, already shifting into Ava’s mind. “Is there any way I can get in touch with you?”

Dunn reached under the seat, pulling out a small black phone. “Burden, use it only when necessary. Your contact is already in Vancouver, he’ll reach out every other Wednesday with a secure message.”

“And what if I need help before the meeting?”

Dunn’s face grew more serious as he replied. “Then you are in real trouble. We have placed another two agents in the city. You won’t know who they are. On purpose. Trust no one, Agent Cross. No one!”

Jackie exhaled, long and slow. “Got it.”

Dunn leaned back, the conversation shifting slightly. “Look, I’ve read your file. Your dad might be the assistant director, but you earned your spot. This mission… It’s risky, yeah. But if anyone can do it, it’s you.”

Jackie gave him a small, tight smile. “Thanks. I won’t let you down.”

As the jet sliced through the sky, Vancouver grew closer by the second, and Jackie leaned back in her seat. The folder still sat in her lap, heavy with a life that wasn’t hers — but soon would be.

Goodbye, Jackie Cross.

Hello, Ava Brooks.

She quietly moved around the buildings of the Vancouver docks. She was heading over to where the Canucks should be taking over the gun delivery and her somehow helping them, unexpectedly. She wasn’t really sure how, but she would figure it out.

A gun was pressing on her lower back, where she had it tucked behind her pants, together with knives on her ankles. She slowed down when the faint sound of voices hit her ears. Carefully and quietly, she moved as close as she could, listening to what they were talking about while she examined the docks, looking for the sniper. When she finally found him, and that it was an easy job, she took in a deep breath.

“There is a twenty AK47, fifteen Colt 1911, and a hundred grenades as you wished. You can take a look and make sure everything is in there.” A man's voice said in a high-pitched tone. Almost as if he was scared of the three Canucks men.

“The hell we will. And if you’re lying this time, it won’t be so pretty.” A deep voice with a foreign accent said, and she quietly moved closer to have a better look at the scene.

“I-I promise th-there is everything.” Another, younger man stutters with fear in his voice. There is totally of six of them, three Canucks and three of the others.

“Whatever,” Filip shook his head and nodded towards the box. “Open it.”

Jackie watched the guy open the box, revealing the guns and grenades. She looked back at the sniper, trying to figure out when he would aim.

It isn’t until they are done counting the guns and sealing the deal with a handshake that Hronek notices the red dot on his friend's chest. He looks up at the roofs, noticing the black figure on the opposite roof.

“You have a fucking sniper on the roof?” he growls, pointing his gun at one of the men, while he shows Broock away from the snipers aim.

Garland and Brock followed him, aiming their weapons at the two other guys just like they did.

“The fuck you’re talking about?” on of the man growls back at them with confusion.

“Don’t play with us, Fernandez! You do not want to have a meeting with Hughes!” This time, it was Brook who said in a harsh tone, taking the safety off, followed by all the men in the dock.

“We are not!”

Jackie watched the scene from afar, waiting for her chance to barge in. It’s not until another person appeared behind the canucks, aiming his gun on Garland.

She quickly made her way to the back door, entering quietly and aiming her gun at the man. The men were still in heated conversation when she pressed the barrel of her gun to the man’s head. He gasped, which attracted the attention of the rest of the men.

“Who the fuck are you?” Fernandez yells, pointing the gun at Jackie.

“None of your business,” Jackie swayed his hips and nudged the barrel of her gun against the guy's head, urging him to move. “But you guys,” she nodded at Filip, Conor, and Brock. “Are lucky that I was here.”

“Who are you?” Brock asks, his gun still pointing at Fernandez.

“Hopefully, a new member of Canucks.” She winked at him, looked down at the guy, and then returned to Brock, hoping he understood. When she noticed the subtle cock of his head, she smashed the barrel of the gun in the men’s head and three gunshots rang out across the dock. The three men fell down on the floor, whining in pain.

It’s no longer after they took Fernandez’s and his men’s guns that the three Canucks pointed their guns at her.

“And what made you think that we will want you?” Garland asked, cocking his head on side. Jackie only smirked and slowly walked towards them, tucking her gun behind her pants.

“I just saved your life,” she murmured and then made a quick turn to left, kicking Fernandez in the stomach when she noticed the spare gun in his hand. “And again.”

“We would have managed without you.” Hronek slowly lowered his gun, just like Conor and Brock.

“I am sure you would, but i did save your asses so…” she shrugged looking around her gaze focusing on the box with guns. “Shame you didn’t get s&w model 27 magnum.” she shook her head looking back at them with a slight smirk.

“Knows guns.” Brock nods in acknowledgment, showing his gun back in the holster. “I like her. Plus she can kick asses,” he smirked at her and walked to the box closing it with his back towards her. That made the two canucks put their guns in the holsters and move to him.

Jackie didn’t move as she watched the three men talk.

You are doing well, Jackie!

Keep going, girl!

And don’t forget, you are Ava Brooks now.

After what felt like five minutes, Brock turned at her with a smirk.

“6 am. Jericho Beach Park by the Pond.” Jackie smirked, and with a bow of her head, she left the building.

It was four in the morning, but she couldn’t sleep. Too much adrenaline. Too many thoughts. She was lying in her bed like this, staring at the ceiling

The same thing was happening on the other side of the city. Quinn was lying in bed, eyes wide open, as he thought about the mysterious girl who had saved his men's lives and whom he was meeting in two hours.

He was quite surprised when the three men came back, saying that some brunette woman kinda saved their asses. And even more surprised when they told him he was supposed to meet her today.

He was upset with them for a while because he could not take a stranger into his mafia, but when they explained what had happened to him, he agreed.

They didn’t bring anyone new in few years, and it could be a good thing for the boys to have a woman in there.

With a moan, Quin stretched his aching limbs and got out of bed. He has an hour and a half to get ready and prepare himself for the meeting. The remaining half an hour to get to the park. Last night, he made sure that Elias and Brock were coming with him, so they should be knocking on his door in an hour.

Quinn made his way to the bathroom, rubbing his eyes, before he stopped in front of the mirror. He looked at the tired man staring back at him from the mirror. Large, dark circles under his eyes, messy hair, and a stubble beard, he was too lazy to shave yesterday.

From the cabinet under the sink, he pulled out a shaving cream and a razor. Spraying the cream in his hand, he applied it to his cheeks and rinsed his hands before he reached for the razor and started shaving his cheeks.

When he was done, he dressed himself in a light blue buttoned-up shirt and suit pants and made his way into the kitchen to make himself breakfast. Usually, he would just grab a granola bar and call it breakfast, but today he felt less lazy to make a real breakfast.

He pulled out bacon and eggs from the fridge, along with orange juice and a cucumber. While he was making his bacon and eggs, he washed the dishes from yesterday and made his bed.

When the bacon was crispy enough, he put it on the plate and sat down by the kitchen island. Pulling out his phone, he checked his emails, making a mental note that in two days, they need to leave for New Jersey for a week. That meant he had two days free to meet with his brothers.

He missed them. They see each other only three months a year, and that’s only during the summer holidays, when they all leave for Michigan. Yeah, they may be calling each other at least three times a week, but being on the other side of the continent is taking a toll on him.

Just when he was taking his last bite of the bacon, there was a knock on his door. The boys.

Not saying anything, he put the dishes in the sink, and made his way towards to door, not forgetting to take his gun on the way there. Silently, he looked through the peephole, making sure it was them. When he saw Elias and Brock standing there, he tucked the gun behind his pants, unlocked the door, and swung them open.

“Hey there, boss.” Brock grinned and entered the apartment as soon as Quinn moved away, making room for them.

“Morning, Quinn.” Elias nodded at his boss and moved towards the sofa. With a huff, he plopped down, stretching his long limbs.

“Yeah, morning,” Quinn grumbled, locking the door behind them. He then walked back into the kitchen, putting the gun on the island. Brock and Elias watched him. “So what do we know about the woman?”

“Nothing, actually. I tried to find her, but nothing came up.” Brock murmured as he poured another fist of cashew nuts into his mouth.

“So you’re telling me, we are meeting with a complete stranger, whom we have nothing on, while she for sure knows everything about us?” he asked in disbelief. Why are they so stupid? It could easily be some kind of trap. There could be cops of federal cops around, waiting for them to meet with her, only for them to be arrested. Brock didn’t say anything, because he knew he probably fucked up, but to his defence, she saved their asses and knew a lot about guns.

“Don’t be upset with them. She saved their asses after all.” Elias said, but there he could not say he was not upset with them, too. The least they could do was ask her for her name. “But you could’ve at least asked for her name.”

“Yeah, we could, sorry.”

“Doesn’t matter, now,” Quinn sighed, leaning against the kitchen island. “Why do you even consider telling her, I would meet up with her?”

“I liked her. She knows her around, knows guns, and she handled the guy pretty well.” He shrugged his shoulders, looking expectantly at his boss. He was aware that his boss didn’t like taking in some strangers, but there was something about her. “Plus, I think it could be a good change to have a girl in the crew.”

“I think she deserves a shot. At least give her a chance to prove she can handle herself." This time, it was Elias who spoke up.

"Right," Quinn muttered, swirling his juice. He had been leaning toward the same thing, but there was something about the whole situation that didn't sit right with him. A woman in the crew? It was unusual, but maybe it was time for a change. "I’ll see how she handles the meeting today. If she’s legit, maybe I’ll think about it."

"You know," Brock said with a knowing smirk, "she might even keep you on your toes a little. Might be good for you."

Quinn shot him a sideways glance. "What the hell does that mean?"

"Nothing," Brock grinned. "Nothing at all."

“What do you expect from the meeting?” Elias looked at Quinn with a raised brow. “And how do you want her to prove herself?”

“I want her to prove herself to me. I need to see how she speaks, walks, and how quickly she thinks. Plus, I might have this small job for her to prove herself, enough for me to think about her joining us.” Quinn explained, smirking slightly at the thought of the woman handling the job. There was no way she would be able to pull that off.

Elias and Brock noticed the smirk on his face, and they knew that there was no way, she would pass the test.

“We’re leaving in five, get ready,” Quinn ordered and quickly made his way to the bedroom for his wallet.

Quinn saw her the minute they stepped inside the park. She was standing with her back to them, tight black pants hugging her curvy hips, together with the black zip-up vest hugging her small waist. Her long, dark hair was in a braid that nearly reached the upper curve of her ass.

Quinn kept his neutral yet professional posture as they approached her. She did not move a bit as they approached her.

“What a nice day, isn’t it?” she asked, and that was when she turned around, taking in the sight of the mafia boss standing in front of her.

“For Vancouver, yeah,” Quinn answered, stepping closer to her as Brock and Elias hung in the back.

For a moment, the only sound between them was the distant cry of gulls circling overhead. Jackie kept her gaze forward, every nerve alert. She knew she was walking a razor's edge. One wrong move, one misplaced word, and everything could unravel.

“You’ve got guts,” Quinn admitted after a minute of silence. “Not everyone would jump into a gunfight to help strangers.”

“I am not everyone,” Jackie answered with a smirk.

“I noticed,” he nodded and motioned with his hand for Jackie to follow him. “Anyway, do you have a name or should I keep calling you a ‘mysterious woman’?”

Jackie is quiet for a moment, just to add some weight to her name, “Ava Brooks. Nice to meet you,”

“Quinn Hughes, but you already know.” He stated, with a small smirk.

“Yeah, that’s actually why I am here, so,” she shrugged her shoulders, her hand clutching the pocketknife.

“You trained?”

“Self-taught. Picked up a few things here and there.”

"Interesting." Quinn slowed his pace slightly, studying her as if she was a chess piece he was still deciding how to use. "We don’t bring just anyone in. You get that, right?"

“I am not asking for a job,” she said, looking into his eyes. “I just wanna prove to you that I can pull my weight.”

They reach a bench near the edge of the cliffside overlooking the water. Quinn stops, turns to face her fully. Brock and Elias come up behind, watching but silent.

"You show up out of nowhere, save our asses, and then what? You expect gratitude? A seat at the table?" he asked her with raised brow.

Jackie shrugged, her expression calm. "I don’t expect anything. But if you're smart, you won’t waste what I can offer."

Quinn’s lips twitched, almost a smile. "Bold."

"Accurate."

“Okay,” Quinn sighed after a few minutes of silence. “If you really wanna join us, there is this guy who owes me a big cash. I want you to bring me back my money. Then, maybe I’ll think about it.”

Jackie stopped in her tracks, a smirk grazing her lips. “Well then,” she swallowed. “Where can I find him? And how much does he owe?”

“The Park Club, six grand,” he murmured and looked behind them, signaling at Brock and Elias to get back to their car. “I’ll take you there, c’mon.”

Following Quinn, Jackie mentally prepared herself for the job she was just given. She couldn’t blow this up. It was her only chance to get inside the Vancouver Mafia.

When they reached Quinn’s car, he opened the door for her and helped her inside. The whole ride to the club was quiet as both of them were deep in their thoughts.

“Travis Spark,” Quinn pulled a photo from his hoodie, handing it over to Jackie, who took a look at it. “Huge man, 6’4” and 200lbs. Let’s see what's into you.” He jerked his head towards the bar entrance.

Quinn watched as Jackie confidently entered the bar, a smirk grazing his lips. There was no way she’d actually get his money. The man was the CEO of a cyber tech company, and with his huge ego, there was just no way.

Quinn pulled out his phone and sent a quick message to Brook.

BOSS – be back in ten minutes

double B – is she in?

BOSS – if she succeeds, then maybe she’s

Only ten minutes later, Jackie slammed the car door behind her, throwing two stacks of cash on Quinn’s lap.

“Six grand, as you said,” Jackie said, putting on her seatbelt. Now, if you wouldn’t mind, drive me back to the park.”

“How did you get them?” he looked at Jackie and put the cash in the backseat.

Jackie leaned back in her seat, one leg crossed over the other, her tone cool. “I asked nicely. He didn’t listen. So I convinced him.”

Quinn glanced over, trying to read her, but her face was a perfect mask. Calm. Controlled. Dangerous. He saw that kind of steel before—but usually in men who had already bled for something.

“You convinced Travis Spark to give you six grand? Just like that?”

She shrugged. “Let’s just say your name holds more weight than I thought.”

He chuckled, low and surprised. “And here I was ready to call in backup.”

“Maybe next time,” she said, lips curving slightly.

They rode in silence for a few moments. Vancouver blurred past the windows, the city just waking up. The soft glow of morning light bounced off glass buildings and dew-drenched trees.

“You know,” Quinn finally said, his voice quieter now, “not many people make it past the first ask.”

Jackie turned her head toward him. “You testing me?”

“Always.”

“Good,” she said. “Because I’m always ready to pass.”

The way she said it, like a promise, not a boast, made something flicker behind Quinn’s eyes. He nodded once, fingers drumming against the steering wheel as they pulled back into Jericho Beach Park’s lot.

He parked the car and looked over at her. “You’re in. For now. But you ever pull something that puts my guys at risk? You’re out.”

Jackie unbuckled her seatbelt, her voice firm. “Understood.”

She was halfway out the door when Quinn called her name. She paused, hand on the roof of the car.

“You’ve got something to prove, don’t you?”

She didn’t turn around, just tilted her head enough for him to saw the curve of her jaw. “Don’t we all?”

Then she walked off into the misty park, leaving Quinn watching after her, still unsure if he was just invited into an asset... or a storm.