#clueless reader

[manicmanuscription]

P.1. Saturday Nights

PolySJM Week: Day Four

Prompt: Alternate Universe

Pairings: Mafia!BatBoys / Reader

Summary: You're a clueless waitress working in a mob restaurant, unknowingly catching the eye of its ruthless leaders. Surely a simple cut won't send them into a panic.

Heavily, Heavily inspired by @ jacfrostisreal clueless waitress series on TikTok!!

Tags: glood, gore, stitches, gullible reader

Word Count: 2059

A/N: Y'allllll I tried rewriting it like six times but ended up here so don't be holding it against me.....

PolySJM Week 2025 Masterlist | Acotar Masterlist | Series Masterlist

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I pressed the rag to my hand with a shaky inhale, watching as the white fabric turned pink from the cut, unable to stop the tears from spilling over. 

This was the worst shift ever. 

First I had to come in early to cover the host stand all because Esmeraie was having car troubles and I had a customer scream at me because I wouldn’t seat him and his wife as if I could magically make a table available. Then my very first table of the night ended up being absolutely horrendous. It was so damn busy tonight I’ve been running around like a chicken with its head cut off. I didn’t even realize I had cut myself on the plate I’d dropped until Chef pointed it out. 

I’ve had no time to even think, Sevenda’s was a high end restaurant known for excellent service and even better food. I usually thrived in high-pressure situations but tonight was another bad night in an awful week and I was reaching my breaking point. 

I let out another choked sob, my vision blurring with tears, I was hiding away in the thankfully empty break room. My coworkers had tried to help with the cut but I’d refused, snatching the rag out of Thane’s hand and running out of the kitchen before I started crying in front of them. 

God it hurt like a fucking bitch. My hands were starting to shake and I tried to focus on finding a first aid kit but my mind was buzzing with the weight of my emotions, overstimulation setting in and making my breathing hitch my nerves felt like they were on fire.

I let out a painful whimper, digging the rag further into my skin as if it would erase the prickling pain that was seeping down to my bones.

I stayed like that for a few more minutes until the rag turned fully red, trying and failing to breathe only to cry harder. It didn’t help that the sight of my own blood made me lightheaded. 

I didn’t even notice the door had opened until someone was standing right in front of me. Rhysand's citrus and sea scent invaded my senses and I tilted my head up to look at him. 

Mortification instantly washed over me upon seeing my boss, and I reached my free hand to wipe away the tears. Hopefully I didn’t look too much like a mess.  “H-Hi.” 

There was a dark look in his gaze as he took me in. “What’s happened?” He demanded, his silky voice making shivers run up my spine. “I’m Fi-Fine.” I stammered out, trying to stabilize my voice but speaking only made more tears burst forward, when I calmed down I was going to strangle myself for appearing like this in front of the freaking owner. 

My words seemed to have no effect on him and his large hands gently grabbed my injured one. I instinctively hissed in pain when he removed the rag from my palm. “I’m not gonna hurt you darling, I just need to see what’s going on so I can help you. Is that alright?” 

He brushed his thumb soothingly against the uninjured skin of my wrist and I nodded. Biting on the inside of my cheeks to hopefully keep the tears at bay. It was really sweet that he took such good care of his employee’s but guilt slowly crept in, he had been meeting with some of his friends in the back offices.

Before I even had a chance to apologize for ruining someone’s meal and hiding from my tables the door opened again and two familiar men walked in. Rhysand’s brother’s helped him manage the restaurant occasionally. Apparently thing’s must really be crazy because they’ve spent more time here.

“Marissa told us what happened.” Cassian said practically shoving his brother aside to take a look at my hand. I winced at his rough touch and Rhysand shot him a glare. “Be careful.” He snapped under his breath. 

Azriel was standing a few paces behind them, that intense stare settled on me and I wasn’t sure the male was even breathing. I could never get a good read on him. “I’m sorry for breaking the-the plate, I’m honestly fine, just need a bandage and I’m good to go.” I hiccuped, wiping my eyes again and taking a shuddering inhale. Doing my best to calm down and look presentable. These were my bosses afterall. 

“We don’t care about that.” Rhysand said, softening his tone as he shot me a charming smile that had my insides melting. Cassian’s brows furrowed as he inspected my wound. “She needs a stitch or two.” 

As soon as those words left his mouth it’s like someone doused my body in ice water. I snatched my hand from his. “No-No. It’s not that bad.” I spoke fearfully. Cassian stepped in front of me, blocking my view so it was just him and placed a new rag back on my hand, adding gentle pressure. The touch made my toes curl and I immediately banished those thoughts. They just didn’t want me to accidentally pass out, it was already bad enough I broke company property -again- was bleeding on the floor and hadn’t checked in my tables in fifteen minutes. “Really, it’s ok. I have tables. I promise I’ll get back to work- No hospital needed.” 

“You will do no such thing.” Rhysand said from my side, his eyes still on my trembling hands. His tone leaves no room for argument. “Don’t worry sweetheart.” Cassian said softly, brushing a piece of my hair behind my ear. 

His large muscled chest blocked my view so I didn’t see that Azriel had left the room but he returned with a small briefcase, setting it on the counter beside me and revealed what looks to be a small stash of high-grade medical supplies. I whimpered and stepped away, accidentally pressing myself to Rhysand’s side. 

“Y-You are…You’re gonna stitch me up. H-Here?” I squealed out, nausea rolling in my gut. “Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god.” 

“We have numbing tools, it’ll only hurt for a moment I promise.  Will you let us take care of you? We can take you to the hospital if you’d prefer. But either way you are not going to be walking around here with an open wound” Azriel finally spoke, that deep voice instantly soothing my nerves. 

“Not to be rude…But do you know what you’re doing?” I eyed the small army of supplies suspiciously.

“Yes.” The three brothers shared a look I didn’t fully understand but Cassian looked like I just kicked his puppy and Azriel’s confidence helped me calm down. 

“I didn’t know owning a restaurant was such a dangerous profession.” I quipped trying to distract myself. 

Rhysand chuckled underneath his breath, making me realize how truly close I was standing to him. I tried to take a step back to at least keep some of my dignity intact but he pulled me even closer, heart spread across my cheeks. “You’d be surprised.” 

Well.. That’s true I’d seen Roman with countless bandages, for someone who worked in the kitchen of a high-class restaurant you’d think he’d be better with a knife, he’d only told me it was ‘Part of his charm.’ 

A hospital scared me even worse, plus I would feel guilty. I nodded my agreement and Cassian lifted my wrist removing the rag. Both him and Azriel started cleaning it and I let out another whimper, black dots dancing in my vision at the sight of my own blood coming out of my body. 

Rhysand titled my chin to look at him, those dark blue eyes almost looking violet in this lighting. “Talk to me about something.” 

“Like what?”

“I don’t know, anything.” 

I paused, suddenly all my thoughts emptying when prompted. I opened my mouth to respond but suddenly a sharp burning sensation spread throughout my entire hand and I squealed in pain, pressing my head into Rhysand’s shoulder. He shushed me comfortingly, running a hand up and down my spine in soothing motions until all the pain just…disappeared. 

I pulled away to try and look at what they were doing to my hand. But he captured my attention with conversation once again. We talked about me losing my keys, my annoying neighbor playing loud music throughout all hours of the night, then eventually the rude customers at the host stand and the annoying tables I’d had. It was an easy conversation, making me forget all about my cut. Then I realized I was speaking badly about my job to the person who signed off on my paychecks. 

God this blood loss was making me lose my damn-minded. The way they were taking care of me softened something inside of me. It made my walls slip and I made stupid mistakes like thinking they liked me or telling my bosses bad things about my job. They were respectful to my coworkers and I tried to force myself to remember I was just an employee.

It did however warm my heart how much they cared about their employee’s well being and I tried to tamper down the jealousy that they might’ve taken care of my coworkers like this as well. 

We were extremely well taken care of here. Plus the tips were good which was surprising seeing as everyone knew rich people were monsters -Marisa told me it would be disrespectful to Rhys if they didn’t-. So they obviously had a good reputation for a reason.

So no, I was not going to risk a good job just because Rhys’ voice did things to my insides. That Cassian was making me laugh even as they sutured my hand and Azriel’s touch sent sparks down my spine. I tried to remind myself they were just good employers. Tried to not let it all get to my head 

This really was just not my night. 

Even if I would replay this moment in my head before I go to sleep every night in utter embarrassment, these were my freaking bosses and they had seen me crying and in pain. Not my best moment. 

“Sorry…This is your restaurant. I like my job. Don’t fire me.” I spoke, playing it off with an awkward laugh but Rhysand just gave me another of those dazzling smiles. “Trust me, we’re not going to fire you.” 

“All done.” Azriel spoke gruffly and I hadn’t even realized how much time had passed until I was staring at my newly bandaged palm. “Wow…Thank you guys! I truly am sorry about all of this. I promise to be more careful. It won’t happen again. I’ll get back to my tables.” 

“You’re not going back to work.” They all spoke at the same time, those dark eyes settling on me until I squirmed slightly. They really were too attractive for their own good. Maybe I really did need to find a new job because god the things I wanted to do to these men was anything but professional. 

“It’s a busy Saturday night, I’ve already been avoiding my tables for a long time. Marisa is going to kill me.” 

“Wasn’t negotiable Darling.” Rhysand said in that demanding tone again. 

“Rhysand, Sir-”

“We’ve talked about this. It’s Rhys.” 

“Alright…..Rhys.” I appeased him even if it felt wrong, the nickname tasted unfamiliar on my tongue and way too intimate. “I promise I’m fine. You don’t have to do that.” 

I had bills to pay after all, and as if he was reading my mind- “You’ll be reimbursed for the injury.” 

I bit my lip anxiously, of course I was excited to go home and rest, maybe catch up on some trashy tv show but I would feel horrible leaving my coworkers all alone on a busy night like this. “Are you sure? If you need me I’m happy to stay, plus the injury was my fault-”

“We’ll see you next in a few days, get some good rest.” It was Azriel who spoke this time.

I nodded, giving them a soft smile. “Ok..well thank you so much guys I really appreciate it.” 

After grabbing my things and going over how to take care of my wound with Azriel I left, thanking them again for their help. They really were great bosses. 

── °ꨄ︎｡ /̵͇̿̿/’̿’̿ ̿ ̿̿ ̿̿ ̿̿ ｡ꨄ︎° ──

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[hotnbloodied]

Hiiii can I request popular yandere classmate x oblivious reader, oh and can it be smut pleassee?

Thanks for your ask! I started randomly naming all my yanderes even if they are all one shots, I don't know if I want to keep it though. We'll see. This one almost fucking tore me to shreds, I might need a break after this. Anyway, hope you enjoy!

-˚ʚ♡ɞ˚HB˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

Yan!Popular Boy X Oblivious Reader (!!SMUT!!)

!Warning! This post contains yandere themes and topics that may be uncomfortable to people who are sensitive to the topic, read at your own discretion.

CW: not proof read, yous/yours used, gn reader, there is SEX, sloppy lewd writing, yandere tendencies, reader is kind of silly here. (LMK if I'm missing anything.)

!!READ AT YOUR OWN DISCRETION!! MINORS DNI!!

It was the first group project of the year! You and three other people were going to be randomly assigned together to work on a research project about something or another. The first two seemed like nice people but the third was Atticus, your friends have talked about him before. Wasn’t he popular or something? When the group met face to face you finally understood why, he was funny, charismatic and quite the looker. Your group decided to meet up in the library and you thanked your lucky stars that it seemed everyone was working well with each other. The other two in the group knew each other and were friends so when one of them had to leave later on in the day the other one did so as well leaving you and Atticus the only ones in the group still in the library.

Without the other two here, people were more inclined to come by to say hi to Atticus causing him to get distracted, you didn’t care much honestly, you had work to do after all. You overheard a couple of the people who came to talk to Atticus talk about some sort of group karaoke and that he should join them. “Sorry guys, I’m still with my group partner,” he apologized. You looked up, “it’s all good, this is just the first day after all.” Atticus looked at you incredulously. “See? Even your groupmate thinks it’s fine. Join us, Atticus, the girls are asking for you.” Internally he was annoyed, he already said no and the least his groupmate could do was back him up. Were you really that stupid? Eventually though, he was able to convince them to leave him alone. But when he turned expecting to see you still sitting there you were gone. Your stuff was still here so he assumed you went to get more material to research.

Scanning over the library he spots you eventually, struggling to reach for a book on a higher shelf. He sighs and starts walking over to assist but it turns into a run when he notices that you’re about to get toppled by said books. He covers you from getting hurt and curses at himself because having books fall on him fucking hurts. “What are you doing?” He says sternly, “if you can’t reach something ask for help.” He gasps, some of his true self leaked out, his image of a prince type is over. “Dang I’m sorry, you’re right. No sense in getting myself hurt, thanks! By the way, are you okay?” Suddenly, his heart raced, he didn’t know why. It might have been the way you looked under him currently, or it might have been the way you accept his rough tone with you, but either way he was going to explore it, explore you.

The project goes by smoothly, you still hang out with Atticus since the two of you exchanged numbers due to the project. You found it really weird though, each time you hung out with him and his friends, his friends were never able to make it. You hope you’re not scaring them away. Little did you know that if anyone is scaring people away it’s Atticus. The more time he spent with you was like heaven but also hell. He loved spending time and learning new things about you but, fuck, why were you not picking up any of the hints and flirty signs he was giving you?! Like today when it was just the two of you again, you two were at the movies and he tried to get an arm over your shoulder. “Oh my! Are you cold? Here, you can have my jacket.” And wrapped him up in your jacket! Sure, being able to smell your scent was nice but that’s not what he wanted! To rub salt on the wound too, after the movies his friends spotted him and invited you two to join them and you ACCEPTED! “Oh sorry, were you guys on a date?” One of his friends asked. “Oh no, we’re just chilling! We’d love to join you!” You responded. He almost choked up blood.

He went to his last resort and feigned sickness. Worry etched your face and you apologized as you helped carry him away. He convinced you to go to his place since it was nearby and was a bit hurt that you agreed so readily, you were going to be in a private space with him after all. Arriving at his place you helped him inside, all the way to his room. As you wished him better and got up to leave he tugged your arm. “Wait a minute,” he says. “Hm? What’s up, need something?” He hugs you, “I… I need you.” Not sure what he meant, but feeling like he needed this, you hugged him and both of you stayed like that for a while. That was, until his lower half decided to act up. “Do you, uh, need help with that?” You ask, almost too innocently. His face flushed, “help with this…?” “Of course, a boner is a natural part of your body, you know. Though I also heard that boners don’t happen just because someone is horny though…are you horny?” Atticus felt the blood rush to his head, all he could do was meekly nod.

You were sucking on his member, he could tell that you’ve done something like this before but maybe not too often due to the slight hesitation you exhibited. Regardless though he never imagined you would have been so willing to do this for him, should he have asked sooner? The sight of your mouth wrapped so prettily around his cock, he wasn’t the type that was quick to cum but just because it was you doing this act on him he felt close. He couldn’t have that, so he grabbed your shoulder and urged you on to his bed. “Take off your clothes,” he instructs. You did as he told, he gulped, he wanted this for how long now? It felt surreal that this was real. He couldn’t help but use his hands to explore your body, groping, touching, feeling your warmth. Your breathing quickened, you weren’t sure why he was taking so long, his exploration of your body started making you feel needy. You were close to telling him to hurry but let out a yelp when he started to suck and lick on your chest. He worked his way down to your lower area.

“What are you doing? Is all this necessary?” You ask him. “Please,” he begged, “I just need this, won’t you let me?” You whimpered, this is good and all but all this teasing is something you aren’t used to. He sucked and tongue prodded you for a while, you said that you would let him do what he wanted but you wanted to release soon and his tongue wasn’t doing that for you. “Hey, uh– hnn!!” Before you could say anything more he inserted a finger then two into you, rhythmically finger fucking you. Making sure to brush against your g spot each time. You were so close and Atticus knew it, so he stopped making you whine even louder. “Why did you stop?” “Grind on my dick,” he ordered. Sluggishly you got up and did as he was told. “Don’t even try to insert before I allow you to.” So you rubbed your sensitive area against him, slow at first but even you can grow impatient and you’ve been that for a while. Your wetness making a mess and with your bodies grinding against each other a squelching sound reverberated through the room along with the heavy panting and moaning. “Soon please?” You begged. Atticus needed you badly as well so he pushed you down on the bed again and aligned himself before pushing in causing you to scream out from the intrusion. He jackhammered you silly, “fuck, fuck, fuck, please. Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes,” he chanted like a mantra, “I need you so bad.” What followed was one of the hardest orgasms you ever had. He unsheathed from you and quickly went to your face marking your face all over with his seed.

After a couple of beats you asked, “hey, uh, can I have some napkins?” “S-sorry,” he scrambled to his drawer and took out a box of tissues. After you cleaned yourself up you asked, “I’d like to borrow your bathroom.” He told you that it was down the hall. You took your clothes and left his room, when you came back you thanked him. “Well that was fun! I’m going to head home now. I’ll see you later alright?” And left. He was shocked, how fucking clueless can you be?? He was going to make sure you understood that you were his now and he was going to move heaven and hell to make sure that happens, his darling.

[literaryslapshot]

Please more clueless reader contenttttt

i think tyson & clueless gf would be so cute bc it’s the perfect combo of

bf who wants to do everything for her 🤝 gf who needs everything done for her

[readwritealldayallnight]

(part of the Wife at First Sight series)

When Ghost had asked if you would help him with something, you’d answered yes without a question. You didn’t ask for details, smiling and thanking him every time he opened each door that led to the base’s parking garage, giggling when he even insisted on opening the truck door for you. You’d come to grow fond of your work husband, appreciating how he never failed to make you feel special.

You sometimes wished his affections were genuine, rather than part of what you’d assumed was a strange hazing ritual in the military (which you couldn’t deny kind of worked, the two of you had grown closer hadn’t you? Was that the point of hazings?).

But you knew that line of thinking wouldn’t lead anywhere, other than potential heartbreak. He surely was only joking around, wouldn’t return your feelings. That’s why you played along with the ruse, but tried your best not to fall too hard for the man who was making that more and more impossible.

Still though, you couldn’t deny the pang in your heart when you discovered the errand he requested your help with, was to go look at engagement rings.

Did he actually have someone special in his life? Someone he hoped to propose to?

You felt guilty, thinking there might be another person out there that he loves enough to ask them to marry him, all the while you’re enjoying his attention at work, pretending he could ever actually want you as his wife.

You follow him into the shop, eyes widening at the never ending cases and displays of shiny, glittering jewelry, as far as the eye can see.

He chuckles at your expression, telling you not to worry your pretty little head over any price tags, just to pick out whichever one you liked.

You appreciated that he trusts your judgement so much that he wanted your opinion on which ring to buy his partner, and so you take your time looking through them all, even if it makes you sad to picture him slipping this ring onto another person’s finger.

Gaze scanning the displays, your eye is instantly caught by one ring and one ring only. You point to it, Ghost humming in agreement, signalling for one of the employees behind the counter to unlock the case.

The man pulls the ring out, handing it to the Lieutenant who examines it in between gloved fingers.

“Let’s see how it fits.” He murmurs, taking your left hand in his and slipping the band onto your ring finger, both of your eyes locked on the movement.

“Like a glove.” The employee says with a smile, moving to gather a selection of ring boxes he hopes to show you both, seeing that the ring has evidently found its owner and fits perfectly.

“It’s really beautiful Ghost.” You tell him, admiring the ring as he admires your expression. “Your wife’s a lucky woman.” You add, thinking of the mystery woman you’re convinced he’s buying this for, assuming you must have a similar ring size to her or something, if he’s having you try it on.

Your eyes meet his own warm gaze as his hand folds your fingers, bringing the ring up to his lips to press a kiss through the mask.

“Not as lucky as I am to be her husband.”

[miedei]

what can i do for you?

hiding your relationship doesn't exactly go according to plan, not when you have two good-natured coworkers armed with a magazine. (aka the love languages fic i've been neglecting)

a/n: this has been in my drafts since december omfg. not totally sure how i feel about it but i like it i think!! title's from what can i do by penelope road :)

cw: reader has she/her pronouns, established relationship, sneaking around, lots of fluff, garcia and morgan being super nosy and oblivious at the same time, also reader collects shot glasses in this one because i do that too and what i say goes

wc: 3.3k

mlist

(reblogs are the only way to promote fics on tumblr! please reblog if you enjoyed it :) )

Spencer's hand in yours is warm, warmer than it should be considering the cool breeze that hits as you walk out of the metro station. A rush of giddiness rolls over you, scrutinizing the domestic comfort of this moment.

Four months of whispered affirmations and nights holed up in either of your apartments have led you to feeling more in love with him than you thought was possible. Even just contemplating it brings a rush of blood to your face, forcing you to huddle closer to him, leaning your cheek against the puffy exterior of his coat. 

Without looking, you can feel his shoulders shake in silent laughter, your mind conjuring the image of his lips pressed together, suppressing the giggles you know are threatening to burst out of him. 

“Cold?” The amusement bubbles up in his tone, and you both know that your uncharacteristically shy demeanour has nothing to do with the temperature. His hand comes up to rub at your shoulder comfortingly. He’s awful.

“I hate dating profilers.” Despite your words, your mouth twitches up into a smile.

“Well, I love dating a profiler. And as a profiler, I can tell you do too.” A mock-exasperated sigh leaves your mouth at his words, but you make no move to part from him.

It’s only when the imposing Quantico buildings come into view that you finally step away from him, hand slipping out of his. His lips quirk up as he eyes you. 

“You think they’d be suspicious, us showing up in the elevator at the same time every day.” 

“Don’t jinx it! We’re lucky they haven’t been insinuating themselves into every part of our lives yet.” You step into the elevator, leaning against the wall and staring him down.

“Hey, if they figure it out, did you know it’s statistically more likely that it’ll be because of you? You touch my shoulder on average 17 times a day. Even when we’re on a case.”

“Oh, don’t start. How many times did you almost call me ‘angel’ yesterday? I can’t believe Hotch hasn’t noticed, especially that one time in his office.” It’s gratifying to see the apples of his cheeks redden with embarrassment. 

Stepping into the bullpen, you step away from him, striding to your desk and calling out greetings.

“Morning, guys. What’s that?” 

Emily and Derek are huddled over Garcia, who’s sitting in Derek’s desk chair with a magazine in hand. 

“Well, sweetheart, someone’s missing their monthly Teen Vogue, it’s accidentally been delivered here instead. We’re just catching up on what the young female populace is doing these days.” Garcia answers absentmindedly, their eyes all fixed on the glossy pages.

“Teen Vogue? Need I remind you, we’re in the FBI. Surely you’ve got work to do.” You stare pointedly at the stacks of paperwork piling up on Emily and Derek’s desks.

“If you must know, this is research, kid. How are we supposed to do our jobs if we don’t know the interests of such a huge potential victim pool?” Derek croons over to you, voice sugary-sweet.

Garcia calls out to you. “Did you know that, apparently, even unconsciously, if a person is in love, they will always demonstrate the 5 love languages to whoever they’re into?”

She holds up the magazine, open to a glossy blue page with ‘LOVE LANGUAGES’ etched on it in swirly handwriting.

You can see Spencer tilt his head at his desk, and beat him to the punch. 

“Are you sure that’s true, Penny? Doesn’t seem very statistically sound.”

“There’s actually been very little scientific research done into the concept of love languages as they’re considered colloquially, and what little there is really doesn’t support it as an actual concept that strengthens relationships.” Spencer chimes in, swivelling back and forth in his desk chair as he muses. 

Emily chuckles, wisely retreating to her desk as Penelope and Derek begin to puff up like irritated cats. 

“Yeah? And what would you know about that, pretty boy? Had some experience lately?” 

It’s clearly meant in a joking way, no real accusation behind it, but Spencer’s eyes widen just a fraction. Enough to bring their attention to it. Enough to get them to pounce. 

You shake your head softly, turning to your desk as Derek and Penelope descend on him, peppered questions being met with resolute silence (and occasional sputtering).

It’s a solid 30 minutes before the two of them let up on Spencer, and that’s only because JJ sweeps through with a case for the team. As you all file into the briefing room, it’s clear Penelope and Derek are still scrutinizing Spencer from across the round table. 

As JJ explains the details of the case, you can’t help but smile at the sight of Spencer patting his reddened cheeks, trying to come down from the mortification and stress of fending off the others. 

In a lull in conversation, you rise from your seat, crossing the room to the pot of coffee sitting under the window. Snatching up two distinctive mugs, you set about pouring coffee, adding copious amounts of sugar into one and considerably less into another, as you muse aloud about the case. 

“Sounds like the victimology is pretty clear. Young men in their 20s, all successful academics who have relatively small social circles,” With the two mugs in hand, you return to the table, setting the FBI logo-emblazoned one in front of Spencer with a discreet brush of your knuckles to his shoulder. 

He looks up with a soft smile, nudging his shoulder back into you, mouthing thank you.

“Should help us narrow down who would’ve interacted with them all.” You finish, settling down in your seat in between Rossi and Emily. 

Hotch nods. 

“The local PD’s already got a few people of interest in mind, but they’re holding off on questioning until we arrive. Garcia, you’re coming with us, the victims’ tech is proving difficult for the local experts to get into. Hopefully this will be a quick one. Wheels up in 30.”

There are multiple decisive nods around the table, most of you standing to grab your go-bags.

Notably, Penelope and Derek stay behind, watching you leave the room with unreadable expressions on their faces. 

If you’d stayed, you might have caught her pulling a glossy, torn-out piece of paper out of Derek’s pocket, crossing off a phrase.

The police department you find yourselves in is more sparse than you’d expected. The police force spread thin, there are only a few officers still in the building. The setting sun filters through the blinds, casting a warm glow over the conference room. 

“...So, we’ll spend this evening going through the details, and I’m confident we’ll have a profile by tomorrow morning. Based on that, we can see whether any of your suspects fit.”

Hotch’s no-nonsense voice cuts through the light chatter in the room, and the local captain nods. The two superiors walk out of the room to the captain’s office, leaving you with the rest of your team and a local officer. 

Nodding politely at the officer, you walk over to the large table, digging into the copious boxes of evidence stacked on the table and murmuring your initial thoughts to Emily. 

“The victims were all part of the city’s chess league, save for the second one. That seems significant.”

Before she gets the chance to reply, a brutish officer in uniform butts in, shouldering past Emily to take the seat next to you. 

“So, you guys get a lot of these murder cases, huh? This is pretty huge for us, but I guess it’s everyday for you.”

There’s a glint of morbid curiosity in his eye, leaning into your space as he waits for your answer. 

“Um, yes, we’re assigned to murder cases from time to time. But we also consult on all sorts of crimes, like—”

He waves a hand in the air, as if dismissing your statement.

“Yeah, uh-huh. What’s the craziest murder you’ve seen? You know, the real gory ones.”

He’s scooted closer to you now, his face lit up with excitement. Out of the corner of your eye you can see Spencer start towards you, but you’d rather shut this down yourself.

“I mean, yes, we do see quite a bit of violent crime. But the aim of our unit is to shut it down, not sensationalize it. So, we kind of need all of our attention on this case right now. You understand, right?” You try not to, but a hint of exasperation creeps into your tone.

A flash of irritation sparks in his eyes, but the officer backs down, rising out of the seat and tossing a half-hearted agreement at you. 

You sigh as he leaves the room, and Spencer makes his way over to you with a wry smile. 

“I’m glad you dealt with him, I wouldn’t be able to do it as quickly. You’re always so good at dealing with people like that, ang—” He cuts himself off abruptly, eyes darting around the room nervously. 

Holding in a laugh at his slip up, you nudge his foot under the table.

“Thanks, Spencer. I appreciate that.”

After he not-so-discreetly attempts to see if anyone noticed his failure to maintain the facade, the two of you settle in to the casework.

Notably, Derek only gets to work after holding a hushed conversation with Penelope at her laptop.

Presenting a profile is always exhausting, but doing it first thing in the morning after basically pulling an all-nighter is worse.

You stand in front of the gathered crowd alongside the team, alternating with explaining different aspects of the profile. Once you’re done waxing poetic about the presumed trigger that set off the string of murders, you get to sit back and let Derek do the last bit (thank god).

Leaning against the edge of the desk behind you, you put a lot of effort into looking stoic and professional, hoping the gathered agents and officers can’t see the exhaustion oozing out of you. Although it seems an eternity, it’s probably another five minutes of talking until they’re dismissed, and the team gathers in the conference room. 

Hotch looks surprisingly alert, standing at the head of the table and gesturing to different points of interest on the map mounted on the wall. His voice drones on, your drowsy ears registering each sentence a few seconds after. 

“Prentiss and Rossi, you two stay here and question the suspects that the uniforms are bringing in. There’s probably nothing to it, but give it a try anyway.” 

Resting your hip against the table, you stare bleary-eyed at the various faces tacked on to the whiteboard. Despite the coffee in your hands slowly bringing you back to life, you can’t help but muffle a yawn, your upper body swaying with the force of it. 

“Morgan, JJ, you go down to the local news station, see if the tips they��re receiving are actually any good. One of their reporters has been into the PD every day asking for updates. Find out if it’s anything more than journalistic curiosity.”

Spencer steps up next to you, nudging your shoulder with his. Without saying anything, his eyes lull you into a sense of ease. Looking around to see that everyone’s staring at Hotch, you can’t help but lean into him slightly, the lines of your upper arms melding together until your bodies press against each other pleasantly. 

 A soft sigh leaves his lips, and you’re inclined to agree with him. Just this level of touch has you melting, the tension in your body slowly seeping out of your bones. 

“L/N and I are going to meet with the families of the first and second victims. Reid and Garcia, go to the workplace of the latest victim. His computer system needs your expertise, Garcia, and Reid, you take the time to interview his coworkers about his behaviour before the murder.”

Hotch looks around for everyone’s assent, then nods once more, dismissing everyone to their tasks. 

You and Spencer make sure to part from each other quickly, hoping to evade suspicion. Flashing him a smile, you brush past him, catching his pinky with yours for a split second before you follow Hotch out the door. 

Spencer is left in the conference room, brushing his thumb over his pinky with an absentminded smile, oblivious to the shit-eating grin that’s found itself on Penelope’s face. 

Spencer and Penelope are the last to get back from their assignment, the rest of you gathered in the PD before the sun begins to set. Derek’s sitting at the display along the wall, currently showing the live feed of the suspect in the interrogation room along with Hotch. 

The case is shaping up to be a relatively short one, so if the interrogation goes well, you might be able to spend the night at Spencer’s.

Rossi’s voice joins the soft haze of conversation, and you finally snap out of your head in time to hear the tail end of his statement. 

“...Hotch is pretty sure that Reid will be able to crack him. He’s putting on airs, the only way we'll get him to confess is if he doesn’t perceive any threats to his ego.”

Emily nods from her seat beside you, chiming in. 

“They’ve been gone for a while, has Garcia called?”

JJ grins softly, unlocking her phone to display a message full of angry emojis and very little text. 

“I’m assuming something held them up, but she says they’ll be here pretty soon.”

The room falls into an amiable silence, all of you alternating between getting a headstart on your reports of the case and watching Hotch glare at the suspect. Emily lets out multiple heavy sighs, the the last two days catching up to all of you.

It’s probably another fifteen minutes until Spencer and Penelope finally burst through the doors, the latter looking very huffy.

Rossi throws his hands up in mock exasperation, questioning the pair.

“About time you showed up! What took so long?”

Penelope groans, rolling her eyes and plunking herself down into a chair. 

“I was ready to be here a while ago, but Boy Genius over here felt the urge to browse multiple novelty stores, for god knows what reason, before he deigned to let us come back!”

Her cheeks are flushed, and Derek and JJ quickly devolve into poking fun at her vexation. Rossi quickly stands, grabbing Spencer by the shoulders in preparation to steer him into the interrogation room. However, Spencer slips out of his grasp with a lithe finger held in the air. 

Apologies on the tip of his tongue, he paces across the room to where you’re sitting, hand delving into his pants pocket and emerging with a small object wrapped in brown paper. He comes to a stop next to your chair, bending over your shoulder to snatch up a folder from the desk (one that you know has nothing to do with the interrogation he’s about to perform). As he does so, he takes the opportunity to slip the object in your palm. 

Straightening up with the folder in hand, he moves back over to Rossi as if nothing happened. 

Turning the small, solid object over in your hand, you watch the two of them leave the room with a soft smile on your face. You have an idea what might be in your possession. 

The first time Spencer stayed at your apartment, he’d taken a particular liking to the collection of souvenir shot glasses that you had on your mantelpiece. Once you explained your goal of buying one in every city where you’ve had a case, he’s taken it upon himself to help you. 

Just as you’d suspected, when you sneak a glance at the object under the table, a tiny shot glass with a cartoon cat stares back up at you. 

A rush of affection runs through you, slipping the glass into your bag as you attempt to hold in a smile. 

Among the many sounds currently coming from the frustrated Penelope, one seems to be less angry, and more triumphant.

Thank goodness, Spencer gets through to the suspect in an hour, extracting a confession that will more than nail the suspect in court. Because of that, the entire team now finds themselves on the jet once more, in various states of sleepiness. 

Rossi is knocked out, head leaned against the wall, mouth agape. Hotch is similarly asleep, with JJ and Emily across from him, sharing wired earphones as they both try and get some shuteye. 

Derek and Penelope are sitting on the couch, leaving you and Spencer to claim the table. 

You’re not complaining, not when Spencer’s foot is pressing against yours from the seat across from you, and you can use the excuse of taunting him about the chessboard to hear his melodic voice float over to you.

“What was it Gideon always told you? I don’t think you’re exactly thinking outside the box right now, Spence.”

His eyes dance as he looks up at you, hand hovering over the board. 

“You think so? I think I’ll be done with you in 5 more moves,”

A glint of cockiness reflects in his irises, forcing you to shift in your seat, cheeks flushing. 

The two of you quickly duck your heads though, both of you sucked into the game. 

Low voices murmur compliments and jabs, and his ankle hooks around yours before long, sending a tremor of fondness through your body. 

You’re so focused on the game and Spencer, that you don’t notice how Derek and Penelope have fallen silent. It’s only when Derek scoffs loudly that either of you acknowledge them. Shooting you a look loaded with meaning, he gestures to the kitchenette on the other side of the cabin, motioning for you to follow him there. 

With a confused glance at Spencer, you rise from your seat and trail after Derek, watching Penelope slide into your vacated seat with a determined look on her face. 

Turning to Derek, you’re met with teasing eyes, his eyebrows waggling as he looks at you, arms crossed over his chest. 

“What’s up, Morgan?”

He chuckles, the sound coming from low in his chest as he stares you down.

“Sweetheart, you’re not exactly being subtle.”

A silence follows, as you try and discern what he means. Seemingly getting sick of it, he sighs, launching into speech again.

“If you haven’t noticed, you’ve been acting mighty close to Spencer recently, don’t you think? Making him coffee, playing chess, nearly falling asleep on him. You know what that sounds like to me? A crush.”

He brandishes his phone, the grainy screen showing a familiar blue page. The list of love languages has been marked up, each item crossed out and scrawled handwriting marring the image. 

Barely hiding your disbelief, you stop peering at the phone to stare up at Derek instead.

“You’re bringing up Teen Vogue again? What is this supposed to mean?”

He laughs at your incredulity, slinging an arm around your shoulder to tug you into his side, his other hand coming up to ruffle your hair. 

“Fine, fine, you don’t have to say anything. But I’ll help, sweetheart. If you need to convince the kid to man up and ask you out, I’ve got some strategies.”

You can’t stifle a giggle, not when you look over your shoulder to see Spencer with a harried look on his face, trying to listen to Penelope’s frenzied chatter (she’s louder than she thinks she is, you can hear her say get some flowers, and just ask her!). 

Whatever else she’s saying, you’re sure the two of you will laugh about it later, when you inevitably end the night in his bed.

[hanniebaeee]

Clueless Masterlist

Just eight boys and their very chaotic group chat.

Part 1: Clueless

You and Jisung are colleagues, and he's in love with you. But he's so nervous and clueless about how to win you over. And in come his brothers, to help out.

Part 2: Wrong Chat

Hyunjin, your best friend, drops you off for a coffee date with your colleague Mingyu. It's not a date at all, but Hyunjin thinks it is. And he rants in the wrong group chat - completely jealous and unhinged.

Part 3: Baby Bang

You've been distant lately, and Chan can't understand why. Because this is very unusual for the two of you as you two are on each other all the time. And Chan panics as you guys are getting married in a few months, and this sudden change is unraveling him.

Part 4: Smitten

You and Jeongin go to the same MMA class, and he is absolutely smitten by you. And you two are good friends too. The problem? You treat him like a child, when all he wants is to ask you out. And that's where his unhinged gang enters.

Part 5: Just Friends

You and Minho used to be friends with benefits. Until you caught feelings, and you both called it off. But Minho obviously misses you and is miserable even though he doesn't want to admit it. And his brothers have had enough of his moping.

Part 6: Peek-a-boo

You and Felix live on the topmost floor of your buildings - apartments facing each other, with long windows giving a glimpse into each other's lives. And then one day, everything changes.

Part 7: Plus One

You and Changbin work in the same office and are work besties. He's so in love with you, but he's totally afraid to cross that line. And then you ask him to be your plus one for a wedding.

Part 8: Arranged

You and Seungmin were best friends since childhood - both heirs to your separate family businesses. Your parents are trying to get you married, and Seungmin for once, is absolutely losing it.

[harzilla]

Twst AU where Yuu shows up at the entrance ceremony as a baby. Like a little baby in the coffin wrapped up in a ceremonial robes. Nobody can track down this kid's parents or any kind of family so through shenanigans they end up adopted by Crowley. Professor Trein coming to the rescue giving parenting advice and keeping Crowley accountable as a parent. Crewel is still a student and somehow gets saddled on babysitting this tiny human even though he's got housewardens duties. He really wishes it was a puppy instead, he ends up returning the kid wearing a puppy onesie.

Years later the Entrance ceremony happens and events of the game begin. Everybody isn't sure what to think of the Headmage's kid, wondering if they're just as bad as Crowley. Yuu's actually a pretty decent person and student. Nobody knows how Crowley managed to actually raise a decent human being. Crowley cries dramatically every time Yuu acts nicer to the teachers then to him. Trein thinks Yuu deserves a better parental figure and Crewel acts nicer when he's feeling petty towards the old crow(and it's totally not because he has a soft spot towards the prefect. What do you mean he still has a photo of him and Yuu when Yuu was a baby? Don't be ridiculous)

The dynamic is pretty much the Twst version of Maka and Spirit.

Any guy who crushes on Yuu is weighing whether it's worth it to have Crowley as a future Father-in-law.

[monserelates]

Clueless Idiots 2 ; James Potter

⇨ f!reader x James Potter

⇨ summary: basically f!reader and james potter being oblivious idiots..again. But this time they kiss..right?

⇨ warnings/notes: use of y/n, fluff, mutual pining, excessive idiocy, professors betting again, Sirius being so done, more background chaos

⇨ a/n: thank you guys so so so much for the support i've gotten in the last few days! literally couldn't be more grateful, i love every single one of you. part 2 as requested, hope you enjoy! Also, feedback really motivated me so if you have something to share please do!

word count: 1.7k

There were a few more constants at Hogwarts:

One: Peeves would never pass up the chance to drop ink on someone carrying parchment.

Two: You could always count on the library fireplace to be too hot or not hot enough.

And three: James Potter still hadn’t confessed to Y/N Y/L/N.

It was nearing midnight, and James couldn’t sleep. His mind wouldn’t shut up. About Quidditch, about NEWTs, but mostly about the way Y/N had looked at him earlier.

Like she knew.

Or didn’t. Which somehow made it worse.

He gave up and padded out of the dormitory, barefoot, hair a mess. He wasn’t expecting company in the common room.

But there she was.

Sitting on the windowsill, knees pulled to her chest, the firelight glowing soft against her face. Hair loose, wrapped in a blanket.

She turned her head. "You couldn’t sleep either?"

His chest tugged. "Yeah. Figured I’d come down here and pace like a madman."

She smiled, small and sleepy. "Or you could sit."

He sat beside her, shoulder brushing hers.

For a moment, they just looked out the window.

"Do you ever wish we had Astronomy this year?" she asked.

James raised a brow. "Since when do you like Astronomy?"

"Since I figured out Orion is shaped like a really dramatic bloke showing off his belt."

He laughed, low and tired. "That is literally the point of Orion."

"What’s your favorite constellation?"

He blinked. "Er... I dunno. Maybe Canis Major. Big dog."

"Of course it is."

"Hey, it’s loyal. Follows Orion everywhere."

She hummed. "Mine’s Lyra. The harp."

He tilted his head. "That tracks. You’re all poetic and stuff."

"Not poetic. Just... curious. It used to be a turtle."

He blinked. "What?"

She laughed. "The Greeks thought the first lyre was made from a turtle shell. It became a constellation after Orpheus died."

"So... music, loyalty, tragedy. Sounds like a Hogwarts afternoon."

She nudged his shoulder. "Don’t be dramatic."

"You just compared stars to death."

"You brought up dogs."

"Touché."

Time passed like honey. Slow and warm.

They fell into a lull, the silence comfortable.

Then, softly:

"Do you ever think about after Hogwarts?" she asked.

James swallowed. "Yeah. All the time."

"What do you think you’ll do?"

He shrugged, staring out the window. "Auror, maybe. I want to help. I want to make it better."

She nodded. "You’d be good at that."

"You think?"

"You care too much not to be."

He glanced at her. Her hair was half in her face. His hand itched to tuck it behind her ear.

Again.

But he didn’t.

"What about you?" he asked.

She leaned back against the window. "I want to write. About real things. Real people. Maybe travel for a bit."

"Travel where?"

"Everywhere. France. Greece. That island where the firecrabs sunbathe."

He smiled. "You mean Fiji."

"Do I?"

"You do."

She smiled back, then yawned.

Without thinking, he pulled the blanket more around her.

"Thanks," she mumbled, eyes half-lidded.

She rested her head on his shoulder.

He froze.

Then slowly, cautiously, he let his head rest against hers.

James was scared to take a breath, he really didn't want her to move her head.

When Remus came down for tea at dawn, he nearly dropped his cup.

James was on the couch. Y/N was on top of him. His arms were wrapped around her waist; her face buried in his chest. Both fast asleep.

..

Back in the staff lounge, McGonagall adjusted her spectacles.

"I hear Mr. Potter and Miss Y/L/N fell asleep in each other’s arms."

Slughorn chuckled. "A very compromising position, I’m told."

Sprout grinned. "New bet: who confesses first, now that they’ve practically napped their way into a relationship?"

McGonagall smirked. "My money's still on her."

..

The sun rose on Gryffindor Tower with the kind of golden softness reserved for early autumn mornings, and the Common Room was quiet.

Except for the hushed snickers.

James woke up to a tickle against his cheek and the very distinct feeling that something—or someone—was lying across his chest. And that he, very stupidly, had an arm slung securely around them.

“Merlin’s saggy balls,” came Sirius’s voice, somewhere above.

James groaned.

Y/N stirred.

She blinked up at him. “Why are you—why am I—why are we—”

“Why are you both literally spooning on the Common Room couch?” Lily supplied helpfully, crossing her arms with a knowing smirk.

Remus, sipping his tea behind them, raised an eyebrow. “Comfortable?”

James scrambled up. “I—It’s not—we were talking about constellations.”

Y/N smacked his chest lightly. “Don’t make it sound weirder.”

Sirius pointed to the small blanket still tangled around their legs. “You both fell asleep. Cuddled like a pair of puffskeins.”

Remus looked deadly serious. “This is a violation of the forty-eight-hour deadline I issued.”

“What deadline?” Y/N asked, rubbing her eyes.

“To kiss. To confess. To do something,” Remus deadpanned.

“You hexed us?” James looked betrayed.

“I threatened to. Still might.”

Behind them, a voice chimed from the portrait hole. “Ah, young love.”

McGonagall.

Everyone froze.

She gave them a long, knowing look, eyes twinkling. “Five points from Gryffindor for inappropriate use of the Common Room. And five points to Gryffindor… for finally making progress.”

“Finally?” Y/N squeaked.

McGonagall just smirked and left.

—

Word traveled fast.

By lunch, someone had drawn a very accurate sketch of James and Y/N asleep on the couch and tacked it to the Gryffindor bulletin board under the title THE CHOSEN ONES.

By dinner, Slughorn cornered Y/N and casually asked if she'd like to bring James to his next Slug Club gathering "as her plus one." When she choked on her pumpkin juice, he just chuckled knowingly.

At bedtime, Marlene had had enough.

“Y/N,” she said sternly, hands on her hips, “this is getting pathetic. If you don’t make a move, I swear I will lock the two of you in a broom cupboard with only one pillow and unresolved sexual tension.”

Dorcas leaned on the bedpost. “It’s like watching a romance novel in slow motion.”

“I like slow motion,” Y/N protested.

Lily tossed a pillow at her. “This isn’t slow motion. This is emotional molasses.”

—

Meanwhile, James was pacing.

“Padfoot,” he said, running a hand through his hair for the sixth time in three minutes. “What if I messed everything up?”

“You mean by spooning your crush in public and then still not confessing?”

Peter squirmed. "Don't say crush, it makes it sound like he's thirteen."

James groaned. “I panicked. She looked so peaceful. And I—”

“You what?” Sirius pressed.

“I almost kissed her.”

“YOU WHAT—”

Remus chucked a book at Sirius. “Indoor voices.”

James collapsed on his bed. “I’m an idiot.”

“You’re our idiot,” Peter offered.

“I don’t deserve her.”

“No,” Remus agreed. “But you have her. You just don’t know it yet.”

—

Two days passed.

Nothing changed. Not really.

Except now when James tucked her hair behind her ear, everyone screamed internally. When Y/N offered him a bite of her treacle tart, two Hufflepuffs bet ten Galleons on a Christmas confession. When they accidentally brushed hands in Herbology, Professor Sprout nearly cheered.

It was becoming a school-wide crisis.

And they were on the eye of the tornado.

—

One evening, James found himself back in the Common Room, late again, just like that night.

Y/N was there. Of course she was.

“Couldn’t sleep?” he asked softly.

She looked up from her book. “Not a wink.”

He flopped beside her, their knees bumping. “You know what Sirius said to me today?”

“What?”

“That we’ve gone from Clueless Idiots to Catastrophic Morons.”

She snorted. “Honestly? Fair.”

A beat of silence.

“Y/N?”

“Hmm?”

“What if I said I like you?”

She turned, slowly. “Then I’d say it’s about time.”

His breath caught. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

And then—

Finally.

She leaned in, and he met her halfway.

It wasn’t perfect. It was a little clumsy, a little breathless, but it was theirs.

And when they broke apart, cheeks flushed and hearts racing, Y/N whispered:

“Took you long enough, Potter.”

He grinned. “I’m still getting us that Honeydukes window.”

“Especially the sugar quills?”

“Especially the sugar quills.”

—

The next day it was a quiet, peaceful Wednesday morning.

Well, until Peeves found out.

“THEY KISSED! THEY KISSED!” he bellowed at the top of his ghostly lungs, cartwheeling through the Great Hall mid-breakfast. “JAMES AND Y/N IN THE COMMON ROOM, SNOGGING LIKE LOVESICK FLUFFY GNOMES!”

James nearly dropped his toast. Y/N choked on her pumpkin juice. Lily patted her on her back.

“WE HAVE WITNESSES!” Peeves sang, doing loops around the enchanted ceiling. “KNEES TOUCHING! EYES SPARKLING! AND A SCANDALOUS FOREHEAD KISS, OH MY!”

“Peeves—!” James hissed, red as a Gryffindor banner.

Y/N slapped a hand over her face. “I hate everything.”

Sirius was howling with laughter. Remus had calmly pulled out his wallet. “I believe this means I win the side bet about it not happening in a broom closet.”

“DO YOU, MISS Y/N, TAKE THIS MESS OF A MAN TO BE YOUR LAWFULLY OBLIVIOUS HUSBAND?” Peeves hollered, throwing confetti made of shredded homework.

Peter leaned in, whispering, “You did kiss him, right?”

Y/N glared. “Not that it’s any of your business, but—yes.”

James stared at her and smiled.

"What? Do I have something on my face?" Y/N asked.

"Nothing, you're just gorgeous, love." He said, followed by a couple of playful groans of his friends and the stares of a lovesick y/n.

“Oh my Merlin,” Marlene muttered, rubbing her temples. “I’m moving schools.”

Above them, Peeves looped the final loop, pausing dramatically midair before screaming:

“THEY KISSED, THEY KISSED, THEY BLOODY WELL—FINALLY—KISSED!”

And Hogwarts, once again, erupted into cheers, catcalls, and the sound of one exasperated McGonagall muttering into her tea, “About bloody time.”

Flitwick clapped politely from his seat, beaming. “They make such a charming couple.”

Slughorn chuckled, already scribbling their names into a guest list for a hypothetical future wedding. “Ah, young romance—always knew James had it in him.”

Sprout wiped a tear. “I feel like I’ve just watched the finale of my favorite romance drama.”

And Dumbledore, of course, simply twinkled behind his spectacles. “Love, as always, finds a way—even if it takes a little extra chaos.”

McGonagall cleared her throat, hand outstretched.

“Pay up, Pomona.”

Sprout groaned and dug into her robes, fishing out a pouch of Galleons. “Worth every Knut,” she muttered.

Slughorn handed over a few sickles to a smug-looking Flitwick, who waved his tiny hand triumphantly.

“I told you it wouldn’t take until Christmas,” he said.

Somewhere in the back, Binns floated through a wall just to mutter, “I had June,” before vanishing again

—

THE END… probably.

taglist: @glittervame @hannah200216 @strlightfilms

[fyuyushia]

Ruler!reader and Shadow monarch Sung Jinwoo guys....

In a last ditch attempt to save earth, one of the fragments of light(you) officially comes down to earth, hoping to save it from the calamities the monarchs caused. This was the second to the last attempt—there was no playing safe anymore. You had to take matters into your own hands because clearly what you and the other rulers have been doing all failed.

Sung Jinwoo just so happens to be standing at the right place at the right time and sees you falling from the sky. Ever the concerned citizen he is, he of course catches you. He doesn't even get the chance to think, only that oh no, this person's gonna die if they keep falling at this rate! So he catches you by instinct.

Did it hurt when you fell from heaven taken literally

You blink, surprised to see that you didn't just crash on the ground like you expected. How pleasant, you squirm, suddenly feeling the hands on you—one on your shoulder, the other below your knees. Keeping you up in a princess carry, you tilt your gaze up, surprised to meet concerned grey eyes meeting your stare.

However, it's not the fact that the man who caught you was conventionally attractive, or the fact that he was able to catch you with ease that piques your interest. It's the fragments of the fallen ruler you feel lurking beneath his shadows.

Before you even know it, you lean closer, welcoming the position. Your fingers trail from his neck to his chest, right where his heart is and rests there. You don't notice the way his body stiffens, the way his eyes narrow into slits as you continue with your motions, too focused on sensing the weak presence.

It's faint, barely noticeable. If it was anyone else they might've missed it, but it was you, so of course you didn't.

This man definitely had the remains of Ashborn within him.

You grin, chuckling to yourself. Perhaps this run through will prove different. With you on the ground, and this man with unbridled potential, if you could just unlock and help him become as strong as possible before the monarchs struck, then there might be hope for this ever so weak planet.

"uhm, can I help you?"

Sung Jinwoo with ruler!reader who now lives with him and his family because this ruler doesn't have anywhere to go and they get scammed every step they take, unaware of the way things go on Earth.

You're powerful, that's a relief—but that's expected because you were a ruler. Scraping money by dungeon raiding, he can't help but just sigh when he sees so many packages lined up in his house because you spend your money(which you earned from dungeon raiding) on practically everything.

Whilst he's helping you understand the way earth works, Jinah's there whenever you buy something, stopping you from splurging all your money in one day, acting as your financial consultant. His mother teaches you virtues, the beauty of humanity, and empathy. She's calm and level headed, inviting you to cook with her or simply indulge in peaceful moments with her.

You're clueless, fish out of water as you go by the days. Lucky for you, you have Ashborn's vessel and his family to help you adjust, lecturing you one scam at a time.

[jaysgirlx]

Dick: Did you do something new with your hair?

You: Yeah! I used that cute Nightwing clip you bought me.

Dick: I thought you didn't like Nightwing?

You: No, I said he can be scary…that was before I knew he could also be attractive.

Dick, looking over at you with a smirk: Am I not hot enough for you, sweetheart?

You: Of course you are Dick, I just may be a Nightwing fangirl now.

Dick: Sounds like you like him.

You: Just let me have my little crush, Grayson.

Dick: At the end of the day, as long as you're still with me, you could kiss him for all I care.

You: For a man who gets jealous over his own brothers, this is definitely odd for you. It's almost like you want me to like him.

Dick: I wonder why…

[moon-my-beloved]

neighbors (tf141! x fem! reader)

part III: warmth

cw: possessive thoughts. small touches. that’s it. - xoxo

this wasn’t your room.

when you had woken up from probably the best sleep you had all week, your brain failed to process the different setting.

the blankets filled your nose with a strong lavender scent along with the smallest hint of tobacco. your eyes fluttering shut once again as you pressed your face deeper into the soft sheets before the sound of a rumbling voice had you sitting up abruptly.

“sleep well?” simon asks from across the room. his broad body leaning against the doorframe with two cups of what you presume is tea in his hands. he’s wearing the same skull balaclava you saw him in the first time you encountered him, making you wonder how many he has scattered around.

“I.. I’m so sorry! I didn’t even realize when I started dozing off..” you say in a bashful tone, adjusting your dress as you get ready to slip off his bed. this was so embarrassing. how can you just stay the night with your neighbors? they barely even know you, and here you are— still in yesterday’s clothes, makeup probably ruined, and hair a mess laying on the bed that belongs to the man who sends shivers down your spine with the way he’s looking at you right now.

simon’s own footsteps nearing stop you in your tracks, head whipping up from its bowed position while he pushes the warm cup up against your hands.

“relax. you wouldn’t be sleepin’ in my bed if I had a problem with it.” he reassures you with a casual tone. bed sinking with the added weight as he sits next to you like it’s the most normal thing to happen.

“thank you..” you quietly mumble out, bringing the warm tea to your mouth as you take a sip of it. a sigh of relief passing through your lips with how good it tastes.

there’s a stillness in the room. you and simon sitting beside each other, sipping on your tea comfortably like it’s just another sunday morning. you throw the quick, occasional glances his way every time he lifts his mask. you notice that his lips are a pretty rose color, a scar going across them that gives him a permanent snarl. a few other scars compliment the lower half of his face as a small stubble grows along his jaw. despite his intimidating appearance, he’s lovely to look at.

you should feel a sense of discomfort sitting down next to a man you don’t know very well, but for some reason you don’t. you feel calm. this whole interaction seemingly domestic and methodical even with the lack of familiarity.

you almost feel crazy for making it such a big deal.

“the boys are downstairs finishing up making breakfast.” simon’s deep voice once again pulling you out of your thoughts as he glances at you.

your stomach coincidentally grumbling at that, giving him a sheepish look as simon just lets out a breathy chuckle. “come downstairs when you’re ready, luv.” taking the empty cup from your hands and petting the side of your head before he leaves the room.

you get yourself up after that, meticulously finding your way to the bathroom to make yourself a bit more presentable. you’re shocked to see that your makeup has been removed, your skin surprisingly soft as you pat your cheeks.

whoever’s work was this, was an angel.

aside from still having last nights clothes on, you can admit that it’s not the most convenient but not as uncomfortable as you thought it would be. still, you can’t wait to get back home and take them off. you really hope they didn’t mind you staying, nerves bubbling in your stomach that make you nauseous as you quietly make your way downstairs.

irrespective of your own discreetness, four pair of eyes stop you in your tracks; kyle is midway pushing johnny off of him from getting some of his bacon, price is sitting down on the table with a cup of coffee in his hands, sipping at it in a way that shows his disregard to the situation. probably not the first time he’s seen the boys get all rowdy first thing in the morning.

simon on the other hand has his arms crossed, shaking his head at the show the two men are putting.

johnny is the first one to break the silence, pushing himself off of kyle as he walks towards you. he’s not wearing a shirt. sticking to a pair of grey sweatpants and you try your very best to not stare too much at his exposed chest (in which you fail miserably).

“good mornin’ sleepyhead. hope ghost didn’ scare ye awake,” he teasingly says, a growing grin forming on his face as he glances at the taller man.

“oh fuck off johnny.” ghost says from behind him, too busy fixing you a plate of warm, fluffy eggs, and bacon to even care.

“not at all!” you quickly say, shaking your hands in disagreement as you offer him a smile. “it was very nice of him to let me sleep in his bed. I’m sorry for all the trouble.” eyebrows furrowing in guilt as you look at the men.

“och none of that. we wanted ye tae stay. would’ve been rude of us tae wake ye up when ye were sleepin’ so peacefully.” johnny reassures you as he guides you to the table with the others.

john’s heart couldn’t stand the thought of you seeing yourself as an ‘inconvenience’ as he stared at you.

the men had made it their sole purpose to make you feel comfortable last night. sharing a silent victory with the boys when he and simon walked into the living room only to see you snuggled in between kyle and johnny. lips slightly opened with every breath you took. you were a sight to see.

you hadn’t even flinched when he picked you up and moved you to simon’s room. you must’ve been so tired. working an office job (from what auntie lottie told him) that doesn’t pay you enough for all the hours you put in. he really couldn’t stand it, and he won’t.

a soft thing like you shouldn’t have to even lift a finger. his men will make sure of it.

john price was a man of dignity and self-control, but with you, that stoic facade he puts off cracks the more he’s around you. taking all in him to not pull you into his lap, and whisper gentle affirmations (where you belong) into your ear as you make eye contact with him from across the table. visibly flustered before you cast your gaze down and continue to eat.

you had overstayed your welcome for far too long, and before you knew it, you had to bid your farewells to the group of men unbeknownst to their distaste.

profusely thanking them for their hospitality in which they brush off as nothing. your jaw closing shut when john pins you down with one of his stern looks when you open your mouth to apologize again. ears turning hot in embarrassment with how quick he makes you feel like a child being scolded.

johnny pulls you in for one last hug. his big arms engulfing your body with his warmness and hands squeezing at your hips as he murmurs at your ear to visit them again before he’s pulling away. the corner of his lips pulling into a sly smile.

gaz scoffs at johnny, pulling you into a more gentler hug when it’s his turn and thanking you for staying over. missing the way his hands linger a little longer against your back.

simon just gives you a slow nod, arms crossed as his eyes flicker to you in acknowledgment while scruffing johnny like a kitten when he goes in for another hug.

“come on luv. I’ll drop you off to your door.” john says, not having enough time to protest before he has his palm against your lower back as he turns you away from the men.

you turn your head back, waving at them one last time as john pulls you close to him. it’s not a long walk, arriving at the front of your house and awkwardly shifting in front of the older man at your doorstep. “I know I’ve said thank you countless times, but I really do appreciate you letting me stay over.” rubbing the back of your hand as you struggle to look at him.

the small light of the lamp enhances his features, creating a golden hue against his face as john just looks at you with those warm eyes. the corner of his lips twitching into a smile while shaking his head, “you’re welcome any time darling.” he simply says as he watches your mouth gape at his words before pressing your lips together.

john wants you to come over again. he wants you to have you in the security of his home along with his boys. he wants to have you in his arms, kiss you, and touch you despite barely knowing of your existence a few days ago. a desire growing in the pit of his mind and heart.

he wants you as much as his men do.

you nod silently, trying to hide the way his words leave a warmth in the pit of your stomach, biting back a smile before flickering your gaze back at him. “I’ll see you around then john.”

“I’ll be waiting.”

we’ll be waiting, doll.

[1-800-luvmail]

"which could mean nothing" reader with bruce "i'm trying to tell you everything silently" wayne........

to bruce wayne, acts of service feel less vulnerable than verbal or physical announcements of adoration. for him, it feels natural to live in a complete state of showing instead of saying. words only go so far.

bruce's "i love you"s, however, go unheard by you. not like you don't notice how genuine and thoughtful he is— it's absolutely not that. it's just that your brain thinks that if it's not the most crystal clear thing in the world, it could just be overthinking.

because, yeah, totally, it's just your silly mind when he decides buy all your outfits for the galas he invites you to, having the clothes custom made for you by luxury brands and designers that are way out of your tax bracket.

it's 100% nothing when you catch his gaze on you, his eyes taking you in like you hung the stars in the sky

and yes, you might be the one of the only people he talks to this late at night. you might be one of the very few that are allowed to watch him slip off the cowl after a long day— someone who knows the parts of him that he fights to keep hidden— ...which could mean nothing.

[incertaepersonae]

Spencer: so, are you here with someone, or ?

Y/n giggling: yeah, no.. don't even try. It's not going to happen.

*Later that night*

Daryl: why's that guy lookin' at ya?

Y/n: wha...oh. I guess he tried to flirt with me. Anyway I told him to back off.

Daryl: why?

Y/n: what do you mean why? I have some expectations.

Daryl: what 'xpectations?

Y/n:  ...

Daryl: why ya lookin' at me like that?

Y/n: *sigh* nevermind.

[literaryslapshot]

https://www.tumblr.com/harlowhockeystick/745017779399327744/httpswwwtumblrcomharlowhockeystick7446002768

i just realized… i am the clueless reader

me too me too

[serensho]

late night invincible thoughts… imagine mark grayson as hercules with a megara!reader in an ancient greek au…thinking so many thots…

[sirbonesly]

Price's not-so-soft wife

Rewatching M*A*S*H* (the episode about Peggy getting a job and BJ having a crash out b/c of it) and the thought hit me. What if Price's wife, who's nearly as tall as him, quit her job when she married him, is actually competent.

You had the entire team's phone numbers, could call any of them if you needed something while John was on mission. But now they're all away, all four of them fighting on the other side of the world, and you're left at home.

The sink is leaking.

Sure, you could call a plumber, but the guy on the phone is throwing out words you don't understand and that price seems a little high. So you do what any other person would do. Youtube.

It goes decently well. The fix lasts for about two days, and then you're running over to your neighbour's house and asking them why the hell your hot water pressure is fucked.

Again, it's a simple fix, and Anise shows you exactly how to fix what went wrong, lets you take notes on it and everything. It's the beginning of your growth.

The boys are gone for nearly two months, a no-contact mission, so you can't even call them. It's like everything wants to go wrong because they're gone, the house throwing a hissy-fit about their absence.

The washer, the telly, the hot water heater, the sink (again?!), even the sliding back door gets jammed. Each time, you look up a video, fix the issue, and if something goes wrong, you run to Anise for help. But after the sink breaks for the third time (seriously, the house missus John) Anise finally convinces you to get a new one.

She drags you out to local Homebase and teaching you what to look for in all of the appliances. You take extensive notes on your phone, taking pictures of the washer/dryer set you really like (just in case) and leaving with a sink.

By the third month, fixing things in the house has become a new adventure for you. A loose cabinet? Easy as pie. The washer broke? This is why you took those pictures, already on the phone with Homebase.

When they boys do finally come home, John's expecting his soft wife to be waiting for him. He texted her when he left base, figured that she would have dinner cooking like always, ready to feed four hungry men. What he walked in on, his boys following like a line of ducklings, is you, sitting in front of the dishwasher, toolbox next to you. Dressed in one of his old work shirts, hands a bit wet, a bandana keeping the hair out of your face, you tighten a bolt with a wrench John swears he's never seen before.

And when you finally notice them? You drop the tools, running into John's arms with a smile, and he can feel every single new muscle you've managed to build up.

"Love, what are you doing?"

"You were gone, and things started breaking. Learnt how to fix them."

His soft wife has gotten a little tougher, and while there's an underlying guilt about not being here to help you, John feels proud.