#fire side chat

[fluffycloudhead]

I really enjoy the fire side chats in beacon. Very relaxing and laid back. Very interesting. Comfy.

[paperglader]

it hit me again yesterday- literally as i was about to fall asleep- how stupidly cute it is that marisha as beau randomly burst out "i could be her beacon [that guides her home]" all awkward and earnest about jester, for then one campaign later, finally, laura as imogen come back to her with "you're my tether, laudna. sometimes i feel like i’m about to float away, but as long as you’re there" and i just think that's beautiful and another reminder of how in so many ways CR continues to be endless love letters from the cast to each other.

[shmaptainwrites]

we know i’m down bad when i start going through the filmography

[macfrog]

Max, could we pretty please have another crumb of SOF??

i can offer you the following snippet, and also the insider info that the next chapter will be dropping in two hours. happy hunger games.

“When were you planning on telling me about Jean-Marc?” He goes quiet. Still. Realizes exactly what you mean in almost an instant. “How did you…? Where did you –?”

[eternal-brainrot]

what if i fake my death and go off the grid so that i never have to go back to work again

[magnusmodig]

rough childhood headcanon qs / @clxscdeyes / no longer accepting !

╰┈➤ 7 . how old was your muse when they realized they had childhood trauma?

||. one whole "today years old" post!ragnarok and hela's reveal. Except, even then, according to the movie, not really because Thor is still in heavy denial about all of it where Odin is concerned. I've spoken a bit (here) about how Thor adores his family; he idolizes them and views them through blinding rose-colored glasses, (especially when they're deceased) and that is especially true of his circumstances.

So, very often times when the truth clashes with the rose-colored view of them (namely: his father), Thor does one of two things: find a way to justify the words or action with the surrounding context of the time to make it make sense (e.g., well he scolded me harshly because i was talking back), or avoid it altogether. (this is his go-to. no talking about it; thor would rather not right now, so he does not.)

Key example being: he would rather focus on how his father changed his ways, and the Odin that he knew and grew up with was a man who had turned away from pursuing war for war's sake, and was instead one who valued peace and life. He would rather focus on that aspect of Odin, and take in the broader picture of Odin's life. REGARDLESS of the fact that what Thor is deeply, personally affected - not with the realization that Odin changed his ways once upon a time - but by the fact that he lied to him, manipulated him, and controlled and shaped every aspect of his being, for Thor's whole life, JUST to avoid another Hela. Someone who Thor is not, could not be farther from, and never knew about, because Odin (apparently) kept the matter of his true first-born a closely-guarded secret and seemingly would have continued to were it not for Odin's death, Hela's escape, and Ragnarok all coinciding at the same moment in time. And this, all because Thor rationalizes it as "well, I wouldn't want to be remembered and judged based on the person that I used to be. I should extend that same kindness to my father, because he too, changed." (x10 because now Odin is dead. And it's in poor-taste to speak ill of a dead man.)

The problem namely being: Thor only talks about things when Thor decides it's time to talk about things ; when he is ready. ...but as this is a topic that ripple effects down to Thor's core, good luck getting him to open up about it, even just with himself.

[shadowgasps]

Just remembered we won't be getting a world's beyond number ep this week and went through the 5 stages of grief 😔😔😔

[risingsunresistance]

[fingertipsmp3]

I fell off the massage table 🙃

[rainbow-arrow]

it’s like. not a big deal but repeated reading how people are excited for protection bc of ‘marichat crumbs’ like!!!!!!!!!! those aren’t cRUMBS marichat has had full episodes and the first. remembered. on-screen kiss. it’s what, crumbs after eating the full cake? not a single iteration of the lovesquare can claim they’re only getting cRUMBS

i remember when words meant things.

[mynameisjag]

For @ace-in-disgrace and their prompt: Danny gets mistaken as the love child of the disasters known as Wolverine and Deadpool.

Okay, it was not Danny's fault, he swears!

He was just experimenting with his ice, playing around with some of the younger yetis in the Far Frozen for fun. So shaping his ice to cover his hands to copy the paws of the others and seeing how well he could cut through solid hard frozen ice was just a game. The rough housing was to be expected, everyone tossing each other to see how far they could be thrown was fun.

Being picked up and tossed at the right exact moment a portal opened up was not fun or expected and he blamed Clockwork. The entity had to be responsible somehow for him not being able to enjoy a day of hanging out with Frostbite and the others.

Landing right in the middle of a what looked like a swat happening in an abandoned warehouse, armored people instantly aiming their rifles at him as he stood up wasn’t even surprising given his luck.

Fair though, he was currently looking more on the feral side to match his playmates then his normal ghost form.

“Hey, what’s with hostility? Can’t someone just pop in somewhere without-“, and he was shot in the shoulder, cutting his sentence off, “rude.”

It was just a regular bullet, so it was easy for his form to just…push it out and heal the hole up.

One of the men reached up to touch a device attached on his ear, “Unknown possible mutant has breached the facilities, age around 12-15, regeneration showed, animal like features-“

“You know it’s really rude to talk about someone like that to their face, no manners at all.”

“Unfortunately satirical.”

There was a crash from above as red and yellow forms busted through the glass, the guns swinging their aim at the two men landed.

“Sassiness is always welcomed!”, the red man had his own guns out and was already firing as he talked.

Danny had decided to dodge over to a pile of crates as all the attention was on the new intruders, eyes wide as an arc blood barely missed him as the one in yellow unsheathed long blades from his knuckles.

He glanced at his own hands, he couldn’t make a working gun from ice but…concentrating…he slowly watched as ice built up into copies, looking very much like it was growing from his skin.

An armored body was flung his way and he instinctual reacted…there were now two halves of a one man and he was covered in the viscera.

He froze…did he…oh…oh no…he had to go, he had to go now.

“Ope, looks like someone's first kill! Look at you Jack Frost,” the red guy with guns was now standing above him on a bigger crate, waving down at the teen, “awe, tiny puppy claws!”

Danny took a swing at the crate, watching as it collapsed and the man fell, laughing the entire time he went down.

He quickly turned to run, only to run into a wide chest where he promptly bounced off and landed ass first on the floor, “What in the-I have literally ran into steel walls softer then you.”

Claw man snorted as he reached down and picked Danny up by the scruff, “You alright kid?”

Said kid just hissed at him.

Claws was chuckling, “Cute, now put back your claws, I think it’s time for a chat.”

“Is it finally our turn for the found family and misunderstandings trope,” the red man was back and had swaggered up to the other two, an arm being thrown over his partners shoulders, “Hi, there and welcome, I’m Deadpool and this is Wolverine and we’re your new dads.”

“No.”

“No?”

Danny smiled, all sharp teeth, “No,” and promptly went invisible and intangible, escaping out of the warehouse while he could, leaving the other two behind.

He had to find a portal home.

Wade went limp, using Logan as a brace, “But I wanted to pull a ‘Batman’…”

The response was a snort and Wolverine sniffing his own hand, growling as he took the child’s scent in, “Don’t know what your talking about but, I can track him down, we probably need to before more of these fucks show up and get their hands on him.”

Hope you enjoyed it!

[requiemforthepoets]

overcooked 𖦹 LN4

PAIRINGS: lando norris x female!reader

SUMMARY: play overcooked they said, it’ll be fun they said.

AUTHOR’S NOTE: i just can’t help write about the idea lando playing overcooked, so i did. hope you’ll enjoy this! :)

REMINDER: this is purely fiction, the way how the character is portrayed in my story does not reflect the person that is portraying my character in real life. always separate fiction from reality, and do not repost or copy my work in any way.

WORD COUNT: 1k

WARNINGS: typos and ferrari strategy meme

Lando’s twitch stream was in full swing, and the chat was buzzing as you settled beside him, controller in hand.

“Alright, babe, let’s see how well we work together,” Lando teased, flashing you that signature grin. You rolled your eyes, already sensing that this game of overcooked might be more than what you bargained for.

You both dove into the first level, the kitchen chaos unfolding on the screen as you both tried to chop, cook, and serve orders with as much coordination as two people shared a life, but perhaps not a kitchen.

“Lando, the onions! You missed the onions!” You shouted, pointing at the screen as the virtual kitchen teetered on the brink of disaster.

“Relax, I’ve got this!” Lando replied, but his character was already running into walls, the pot burning on the stove. You could feel the frustration bubbling up, your competitive nature kicking into high gear.

You took charge of the kitchen, barking orders like a seasoned chef, while Lando scrambled to keep up. “Chop the onions faster, Lando!” You yelled as the kitchen timer ticked down. Lando, flustered, accidentally tossed the onions into the trash instead of the pot.

“Oops,” he said, trying to suppress a laugh.

“Oops?” You shot back, incredulous. “Lando, we’re running a restaurant, not a garbage disposal service!” The twitch chat exploded with laughter, and Lando couldn’t help but chuckle as well.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity of trying to manage orders, avoid fires, and stop Lando from accidentally throwing perfectly good ingredients into the trash, you both managed to complete the level. The result? Two stars. You stared at the screen, eyes narrowing.

“Unacceptable.” You muttered, “this is unacceptable!” You declared, your voice suddenly dropping into a perfect Gordon Ramsay impression.

“Oh look, baby we got two stars! That’s not bad!” Lando said excitedly as he pointed on the screen.

“Not that bad? Are you kidding me, Lando?” You snapped, fully embodying the spirit of Gordon Ramsay. “We were all over the place! No communcation, no strategy. Honestly, what was that—your best effort? Do you want to serve that to people? Do you?!”

Your sudden intensity caught Lando off guard, but before he could say anything, you were now pacing back and forth in front of him. But before he could say anything, you were off on a tirade, launching into an elaborate explanation of your strategy. You gestured wildly, pointing at the screen, completely absorbed in your monologue.

“Okay, listen. First, you need to stay on your side of the kitchen. I’ll handle the chopping and the prep work—because clearly, you’re incapable of doing both without setting something on fire. We need to streamline the workflow. I’ll chop, you’ll cook, and we both plate. But!” You pointed at him, your expression deadly serious, “no more improvisation. We need to stick to the plan. No more running around like a headless chicken.“

Lando blinked and nodded at you, clearly taken aback by your sudden switch into full-on chef mode. He opened his mouth to respond but then quickly shut it, his eyes darting between you and the camera that was still live streaming every second of your tirade. The chat was exploding with messages, his fans throughly entertained by your unintentional transformation into a culinary dictator, and Lando knows better than to interrupt you when you’re in the zone.

“And another thing,” you continued, pointing to the screen like you were delivering the world’s most important TED talk. “Timing and synchronization is crucial. We need to strategize and work like a well-oiled machine, not a circus act, okay? I handle the chopping, you’ll cook, and we both plate. We’ll divide and conquer!”

The chat exploded, the fans losing it as she continued, hands flying everywhere in wild gestures. Meanwhile, Lando was trying his hardest not to crack up, the corners of his mouth twitching as he watched her go on.

“Babe…baby,” Lando finally managed to interject, struggling to keep a straight face. “You realize we’re live, right?”

You froze, eyes widening as you remembered the twitch stream, the hundred of his fans who had just witnessed your unhinged rant. Slowly, you turned to the camera, a sheepish grin spreading across your face.

“Oh…hi, chat,” you said, your voice suddenly much softer, the intensity draining from your expression. “I’m sorry for that. That was not very demure, very cutesy, and very mindful of me.”

Lando burst out laughing, nearly doubling over as he clutched his stomach. “I think you’ve been watching too much Hell’s Kitchen, love. Gordon Ramsay has become your new personality,” he teased, pulling you back down and sat you on his lap. You groaned, burying your face on his neck, as he put an arm around your waist, but even you couldn’t help laugh at yourself.

“Come on, let’s get you that three stars.” Lando said as he chuckled again. You settled down beside him and gave you a kiss on your temple.

The rest of the stream was just as chaotic as when you both started playing the game, filled with rage, frustration, and hilarious uncoordination. Orders were still missed, pots were still burning, and Lando’s character even managed to fall off the kitchen at one point, but you were both too busy laughing to care. By the end of the game, you hadn’t earned a single three-star rating that you had intentionally wanted, but the stream had been a massive hit, and the chat was flooded with memes of your intense strategy session.

As Lando ended the stream, he leaned over and kissed you on the lips, still chuckling. “We may not be the best team in overcooked, but I think we’re the most entertaining,” he said, his eyes twinkling with amusement.

You rolled your eyes, but a smile played on your lips as you rested your head ok his shoulder. “Yeah, well, next time we’re getting three stars. I don’t care how long it takes.”

“Deal.” lando replied, wrapping an arm around you as you both relaxed, your own competitive sprit finally at peace—for now. “And can I say, it really turned me on when you started yapping.” His eyes wiggling, suggesting something that you knew fully well as you slapped him playfully on the chest.

“Oh shut up you.” You both laughed.

The kitchen might have been a disaster, but at least your relationship had survived the heat—well, barely.

twitter posts

[reidsfilm]

UNDERCOVER — SPENCER REID

dividers credit: cafekitsune.

PARING: spencer reid x fem reader

WARNINGS: crime, blood, spencer being overprotective, (normal warnings in the series) innuendo to spicy time, physical fight, spencer from season 10, hotch and derek being cheeky fuckers, fluff, a bit of angst.

SUMMARY: SUMMARY: You and Spencer are undercover on a case, acting as a couple. When you stray from the original plan, it leads to danger and ends up with your friendship with Spencer being much more than just that.

WORD COUNT : 6,7k

Notes: English is not my first language, so bear with me. There might be spelling mistakes here and there. I need to start watching Criminal Minds. This isn't proofread!

It had started as a normal case. An unsub had been killing women, taking and leaving behind pieces of themselves. You and Reid had been assigned to go undercover in a bar at night to get any possible leads. You were a couple.

And now here you were, sitting at a table in the bar, your legs crossed and head resting gently in your hand. You weren't actually dating. Not at all. Just working together.

Spencer had a hand on your knee, gently tracing small circles with his thumb as he kept an eye on the patrons in the area.

You glanced around the bar, feeling Spencer's touch on your knee. You tried to remain in the undercover character you had created, sipping your drink and feigning being interested in the people around you. It was hard when Spencer was so close to you, but he made you feel protected, even if it was only for a case.

The bar was bustling around you, music playing in the background while people chatted, laughed, danced, and drank. Spencer’s thumb gently tracing circles on your thigh sent a flutter of butterflies to your stomach. It was always like this when the two of you were on a case. It was always so.. different, but no matter what, you trusted him, especially when he got to show his protective side.

You glanced sidelong at Spencer, noticing the small pout that had formed on his lips as he looked around the room. He always wore that expression when he was lost in thought. It was kind of adorable how focused he got. He didn't seem to notice that he was still tracing circles on your thigh, his hand resting there like it was natural. But to you, god it felt like your skin was on fire by his touch.

You continued to watch him, admiring the intensity of his gaze as his eyes scanned the room for any suspicious activity. You knew he was focusing on the case, that was obvious, but as his hand continued to caress your skin beneath the table.. it was becoming increasingly difficult to keep up the act. Why did he have to be so good with his hands?

Spencer suddenly tensed up, his grasp on your knee growing firmer as he spotted something on the other side of the room. He leaned a little closer to you, his breath warm against your ear as he spoke in a low voice. "Someone is watching us. Don't turn around."

Your heart skipped a beat. His closeness alone sent a shiver down your spine, but hearing his voice in your ear? It was almost too much. You struggled to keep your cool as you casually took another sip from your drink, resisting the urge to turn and see who was watching you.

He moves even closer to you, his hand still firmly on your knee. He was acting so casual as if he didn't notice the effect he was having on you. How unfair.

Spencer noticed the shudder that ran through you as he leaned closer. For a moment, he almost forgot about the case at hand as he took in the sight of you struggling to remain collected. He was tempted to tease you for it, but he knew there were more pressing matters. He let out a shaky breath before whispering to you again. "They're coming closer. Stay calm."

Spencer's hold on your knee tightened as he saw the figure approaching your table. You could feel him tense up beside you, his hand remaining a steady presence against your leg. As the person drew closer, you could see that it was a man, tall, with a sinister smile on his face.

He stopped at your table, his eyes flickering between you and Spencer. "Well, well, well. Aren't you two a lovely couple?"

Spencer forced a polite smile, his grip on your knee growing tighter. He could practically feel your anxiety radiating off you, matching his own. This wasn't good. The man's comment had set off alarm bells in his mind. This guy was definitely the unsub.

"Thanks," he replied, feigning nonchalance. "We like to think we make a good pair."

The unsub's gaze lingered on you, his eyes roaming over your body in a way that made Spencer's blood boil. But he kept his cool, knowing that any overt display of jealousy might give away your cover. He leaned slightly in front of you, almost as if he was trying to shield you from the unsub's leering eyes.

The unsub chuckled, clearly enjoying the situation. "You two look so cozy together. How long have you been a couple?"

Spencer's jaw clenched, but he managed to maintain his facade of calmness. He wanted nothing more than to deck this guy, but instead, he chose his words carefully. "Oh, we've been together for a few months now," he said smoothly, his hand rubbing small circles on your leg again.

The unsub's smile widened, clearly finding some sick amusement in this situation. "Well, isn't that just adorable," he cooed, taking a step closer. "You seem very much.. in love."

Spencer suppressed a scoff, his hand clenching into a fist under the table. He would have liked nothing more than to wipe that smug look off the man's face.

You did your best to maintain a calm and cool demeanor despite the growing sense of unease. The unsub's presence was making your skin crawl, but with Spencer's hand resting on your leg and his protective stance, you remained collected.

"He makes me very happy," you said in a soft voice, glancing at Spencer with a smile that was half-genuine, half-act. "I'm a lucky girl."

The unsub's expression turned almost predatory at your comment. "Oh, I bet he does."

Spencer's eyes narrowed as the unsub leered at you, his grip on your leg growing firmer. He forced himself to remain civil, knowing that one wrong move could compromise the entire operation. But it was difficult, especially when he could see how uncomfortable and uneasy this whole situation was making you.

The unsub leaned closer, eyeing you up and down like you were a piece of meat. "He better treat you right," he almost purred. "A pretty thing like you deserves it."

Spencer bristled beside you, his jaw clenching as he bit back a scathing remark. The unsub's leering made him sick, and knowing he couldn't confront the guy outright drove him crazy. He wanted to punch the bastard's lights out, but that would definitely blow your cover.

The unsub smirked, clearly noticing the change in Spencer's demeanor. "Oh, don't like me commenting on your girl." He chuckled. "A little possessive, are we?"

Spencer couldn't hold back any longer.

"Yeah, I am." The words came out through gritted teeth, his hand instinctively rubbing your leg in a possessive gesture. He knew he was letting his emotions get the better of him, but he couldn't help it. Seeing this creep ogling you was driving him mad.

The unsub chuckled again, clearly amused by Spencer's reaction. "Careful now, pretty boy. Wouldn't want to do something you'll regret."

Spencer clenched his jaw tighter, his knuckles turning white as he held back a torrent of profanities. Seeing the unsub taunt him and openly flirt with you was pushing him to the edge. He was about to snap.

Suddenly, as if on cue, Hotch's voice came through your earpieces. "Keep it cool, guys. We've got eyes on you. Don't let him get to you."

Spencer closed his eyes for a moment, taking a deep, slow breath to try and regain control. Listening to Hotch's calm but stern voice cut through the tension, reminding him that they needed to keep their cover intact.

Knowing that the team was watching and they had your backs helped to settle the nerves, but the unsub's unsettling presence was still making your skin crawl. And Spencer's obvious tension only heightened the situation.

Meanwhile, the unsub continued to leer at you and Spencer, enjoying the way he was clearly getting to him.

Spencer was trying to regain his composure. He let out a slow breath, his hand still gripping your knee like a vice, but he was clearly struggling to rein in his emotions. Despite his efforts to appear calm, it was obvious to everyone listening through the earpiece that he was on the verge of exploding.

The unsub, of course, noticed this and seemed to relish the power he had over Spencer. He chuckled again, relishing in his ability to provoke a reaction. "Looks like I hit a nerve."

You did your best to maintain a cool facade, plastering on a polite smile as you spoke. "Yeah, my man can get a little overprotective," you said with a laugh, trying to keep your voice light and casual. "It's kind of sweet, really."

You cast a glance at Spencer, hoping he would pick up the hint and reign in his emotions a bit. But with the way his jaw was clenched, it was like trying to tame a lion with a collar.

The unsub snorted, clearly not buying your attempts to downplay the situation. "Overprotective, huh?"

Spencer's grip on your knee grew even tighter, his knuckles white as he tried not to snap. But the unsub's words and the way he was still eyeing you were only fueling the fire.

A thought suddenly flashed through your mind. An idea. A dangerous one, and definitely against protocol, but you were certain you could handle it. You had to let Spencer know, somehow.

You reached down and gently placed your hand over his, giving it a subtle squeeze, hoping he'd pick up on the cue. Then, as casually as possible, you turned to glance at him. "Baby, I need to use the ladies' room, I'll be right back."

Spencer tensed up even more as you spoke, his eyes flicking to you with a mixture of disbelief and concern. He knew you well enough to know when you had a plan. And Spencer had a bad feeling about this one.

He caught the subtle squeeze of your hand, and the tone in your voice when you spoke to him. Danger, danger, danger. He wanted to protest, to tell you not to go alone, not to put yourself in danger, but you were already standing up and heading towards the bathroom.

You could feel Spencer's eyes on you as you made your way towards the bathroom, the unsub also watching you leave with a leering gaze. You maintained your calm demeanor, but your heart was racing inside. This was dangerous and stupid, but you were certain you could handle it. Hell, Spencer would probably kick your ass after this, but as long as it got the job done...

You reached the restroom door and pushed it open, stepping inside the dimly lit space.

As the door closed behind you, the sound seemed to echo in your ears. You took a deep breath, pushing aside the nerves and reminding yourself that you were trained for this. You could do this.

You glanced at the mirror above the sink, taking a moment to check your reflection. It was still you, same facade, same expression. But there was a flicker of determination in your eyes, something that hadn't been there before. You were ready.

"What are you doing?"

Damn, you'd almost forgotten about the earpiece. But Hotch's voice snapped you back to reality. He'd seen you stand up and walk to the bathroom, and you could sense his concern through the comm link.

"I have a plan." You muttered, your voice barely above a whisper as you stepped further into the bathroom.

There was a brief pause before Hotch's response came through the earpiece. "What kind of plan?"

You could practically feel the disapproval in his voice. But you'd already made up your mind.

"I'm going to try and detain him."

Another pause, longer this time, as Hotch processed what you'd just said. You could almost see the disapproving look on his face. "That's not within protocol," he replied, his tone stern. You know you should wait for further instructions, for backup. But you were set on your plan, no matter how much trouble it would end up getting you in.

"I know," you admitted, your voice still hushed. You stepped over to the sink, pretending to fix your hair in the mirror as you continued your conversation. "But it's the best shot we have at him without causing a scene."

"You're putting yourself in danger," Hotch protested, his voice tight with concern. "We can't risk-"

You interrupted him, your voice firm. "I can handle myself. Just trust me, okay?"

The comm line fell silent for a moment as Hotch considered your request. Trust was a big thing in the BAU, and he knew you well enough to know that you weren't one to take unnecessary risks. But you were determined, and he wasn't about to stop you.

"Be careful," he said after a moment, the hint of reluctance still present in his tone.

"Always am," you replied with a hint of a smirk, your voice regaining some of its usual confidence. The nerves were still there, but you pushed them aside. Time to focus.

"Keep an eye on Spencer, would you? I don't want him charging in here like a bull."

You could hear a huff of amusement through the earpiece as Hotch replied, "I'll try. You know how he is."

You couldn't help but chuckle softly, knowing full well how protective Spencer could be. But you had a job to do, and you needed to remain focused.

"I'll report in once I got him cornered. Wish me luck."

With that, you pulled off the earpiece, not wanting to draw attention to yourself with any potential noises. This was it. Time to see if your plan would work or blow up in your face.

You took one last deep breath, steeling yourself for what was to come. You'd taken care of dangerous suspects before, this was no different. At least, that's what you told yourself.

You reached a hand down to your hip, making sure the small handgun was still secure in its holster. Just in case. Now, all that was left to do was wait and see if the unsub would take the bait.

You stood at the sink for a few moments, fidgeting with your makeup and waiting for any sound that would indicate the unsub was coming. Your heart beat anxiously in your chest, the anticipation growing with each passing second.

Then, you heard the sound of the bathroom door opening and the scrape of shoes on the tiled floor. It was him.

You turned around slowly, forcing a casual expression onto your face. He stood a few feet away, a smirk on his lips as he regarded you. He looked more sinister now, without the cover of the restaurant between you.

"Well, look who we have here," he drawled, his voice sending a shiver down your spine. He took a step closer, his gaze roaming over your body in a way that made your skin crawl.

"Just needing a little touch-up time," you replied, trying to keep your voice light and unbothered. You leaned back against the sink, trying not to flinch as he closed the distance between you.

"Yeah? I think you look perfect to me." He was standing way too close now, his body practically pressed against yours. You could smell the alcohol on his breath and it took everything you had to maintain your composure.

You tried to subtly shift away from him, your heart racing as your back pressed against the cold porcelain of the sink. Your hand casually reached back, fingers inching closer to the gun hidden at your hip.

He seemed to notice your subtle movement and leaned in closer, his gaze flickering down to your hip. "Whatcha got there?" he asked, his voice a low, mocking whisper.

Your heart was hammering against your ribs now, but you tried to keep your voice steady. "What do you mean?" you feigned ignorance, hoping he wouldn't notice the way your palm was slowly closing around the grip of the handgun.

He leaned in even closer, his face just inches from yours. "Don't play dumb. I know you're hiding something." he reached out, his fingers ghosting along the edge of your hip, dangerously close to your gun.

You froze as his fingers brushed against your hip, adrenaline coursing through your veins. It was now or never. You had to act fast.

In a swift, fluid motion, you grabbed his hand and spun him around, pinning his arm behind his back and pushing him against the wall. The sudden movement surprised him, and he let out a grunt of surprise as his face pressed against the cold tiles.

The element of surprise gave you the upper hand for now, but you knew he was still dangerous. "You've got some skills," he grunted, a hint of anger in his voice as he tried to twist out of your grip.

You pushed him harder against the wall, applying even more pressure to his arm. He grunted again, unable to move. "And you talk too much," you retorted, keeping your voice steady despite the adrenaline coursing through you.

You could hear his breathing getting faster, his body tense as he tried to break free. "You think you've got me cornered, huh?" he spat. "You're not the first agent to underestimate me."

"I think I've got you right where I want you," you replied, your grip on his arm tightening. You could feel his muscles straining under your grasp, but he was still pinned against the wall.

Suddenly, he let out a dark chuckle, the sound sending a chill down your spine. "And what makes you think I'm alone?"

Your heart skipped a beat at his words. "What do you mean?" You demanded, your voice steady but your mind racing with the implications of his words. Was he implying that there were more people involved? People who were never mentioned in the case?

"Oh, you really think it's just me in on this?" He twisted his head to look at you, a sly smile on his lips. Despite the situation, he seemed to be enjoying this. "You've been too busy watching me, you didn't even spot the two guys outside."

Your fingers closed around the familiar grip of your gun, heart thundering in your chest as the man advanced towards you. You could hear more gunshots and commotion coming from outside, but that didn't matter right now. You had to focus on staying alive.

And take this man down.

You tried to back away, your back hitting the wall behind you as the unsub stepped closer to you, his gaze locked on yours. "Think you can shoot me, sweetheart?"

Your finger rests on the trigger, ready to shoot if needed. But the unsub is faster than you, managing to grab your gun, and it goes off, sending a bullet into the mirror by the sink, shattering it.

he sudden sound of the gunshot and shattering mirror jarred you, but you fought back against him, your adrenaline kicking into overdrive. You cursed the fact that you were wearing heels, the thin stilettos making it difficult to keep your balance.

You threw a punch, aiming for his face, but he caught your wrist, and the fight turned into a grappling struggle for the gun.

You could feel your heart sink as the gun skidded away from you, the sound of it hitting the tiled floor echoing in your ears like a bad omen. The unsub noticed it too, a victorious glint in his eyes as he took a step back from you.

"Looks like you're out of weapons," he jeered, his voice low and mocking.

You looked around, trying to think quickly. You were outnumbered, unarmed, and trapped in a confined space. The odds were not in your favor, but you refused to give up.

You took a step back, putting some distance between you and the unsub as you scanned the small bathroom for anything that could be used as a weapon. There wasn't much – a few toiletries, a paper towel dispenser, nothing that would be much use against a man twice your size.

The unsub's gaze was on you like a hawk, following your every movement. "Where you think you're going, pretty girl?" he taunted, moving forward slowly, his footsteps echoing loudly in the small space. "You're not gonna get away that easily."

With no chance of running or finding another weapon, you were left with no choice. You clenched your fists, readying yourself for a physical confrontation. You hated hand-to-hand combat, it was never your strong suit, but you had to make do.

"Bring it, buddy," you taunted, trying to sound braver than you felt.

The unsub chuckled at your challenge, stepping closer again. "You've got spirit, I'll give you that," he said, his eyes scanning your form up and down. "But you're way in over your head."

He lunged forward, his hand shooting out to grab you. You managed to dodge the first attempt, twisting your body away from his reach, but he was quick and relentless. He kept coming at you, his movements swift and fluid, like a snake.

You threw a punch, aiming for his face, but he dodged it with ease, his hand catching your wrist and yanking you to the side. You stumbled, the heel of your shoe catching on the edge of a tile. You barely managed to keep your balance, your heart hammering in your chest.

You gasped as he grabbed a handful of your hair and slammed you into the edge of the sink. The impact sent a sharp pain through your skull, making your vision swim for a moment. You tried to fight him off, but he had an iron grip on your hair, keeping you pinned.

The sudden sound of the door crashing open and the sight of your teammates appearing in the doorway sent a wave of relief through you. Hotch, Derek, and even Spencer, all holding their service weapons at the ready.

The unsub's grip on your hair loosened slightly, his eyes wide with surprise at the unexpected arrival. For a moment, it seemed like the tables had turned.

Derek quickly assessed the situation, his eyes scanning over the scene in front of him – you, pinned against the sink, the unsub's hand in your hair, the shattered mirror, and the gun lying just out of reach on the floor.

"You wanna let her go, pal?" he barked, his voice hard and unwavering.

Hotch's gaze fell on you, his eyes instantly locking onto the blood dripping down your face. Concern flashed across his features for a brief moment before he schooled his expression back into his usual stoic demeanor.

"Let go of her," he repeated Derek's command, his voice firm and commanding. "Now."

The unsub didn't move, his eyes darting around the room, calculating his options. But his grip on you loosened as he realized he was outnumbered. He released your hair, his hand dropping away from your scalp.

"Hands on your head," Hotch barked, stepping forward. Derek moved in as well, his gun still raised and aimed directly at the unsub.

Spencer lingered by the doorway, eyes wide and worried as he took in your injured state.

The unsub complied, raising his hands slowly and placing them on the back of his head. He looked resigned, his earlier bravado replaced with a resigned acceptance that he was outnumbered and outgunned.

"Turn around slowly," Hotch instructed, his voice leaving no room for argument. The unsub obeyed, turning slowly to face the wall, his hands still on his head.

Within seconds, Derek had him restrained, his hands cuffed behind his back. Hotch holstered his gun and moved swiftly towards you, Spencer right behind him.

Hotch stepped closer, his eyes scanning over you. His hand reached up to gently cup your chin, tilting your face to the side to examine your face, and the blood trickling down the side.

"How bad is it?" he asked, his voice surprisingly gentle.

Spencer, lingering at Hotch's side, leaned in closer, concern etched in his features. "Does it feel swollen? Are you dizzy?" he rattled off, his usual rambling coming in rapid-fire.

"I'm okay," you assured them, though you leaned slightly into Hotch's touch. Your head throbbed, the adrenaline from the fight starting to wear off.

Hotch gently released your chin, his fingers still lingering near your injury for a moment longer. "We need to get that cleaned up," he said, gesturing to your temple.

Spencer had already taken a handkerchief out of his pocket, gently dabbing at the blood The white cotton quickly stained red as he cleaned the blood away.

"You'll probably need stitches," he commented, his fingers gently prodding the edges of the wound.

The sounds of your teammates clearing the scene faded into the background, leaving you alone with Spencer in the now-silent bathroom. The adrenaline was quickly being replaced by the pain from your injuries, but it was his silence that was unnerving you more than anything

Spencer was focused on cleaning the blood from your face, his touch gentle but his expression unreadable. He didn't say a word, just continued his work silently, but you could tell he was tense, his jaw set in a firm line.

Once he was satisfied that the wound was clean, he finally spoke, breaking the tense silence. "You should've waited for backup," he said, his voice cold and clipped.

He kept his gaze focused on the cut, refusing to meet your eyes. "We could've taken care of this without you getting hurt," he added, his tone bordering on accusation.

"I had it under control," you protested, but even as you said the words, you knew they weren't entirely true. You'd acted impulsively, putting yourself in danger just to prove a point.

Spencer's hands stilled, finally meeting your eyes, his gaze burning with a mix of anger and worry. "Under control? You're bleeding. You could've been killed." His voice was a growl, his frustration palpable.

He looked at you, his eyes searching your face, as if he was trying to see past your bravado and into your true state of mind.

"You can't just throw yourself into danger like that," he said, his voice softer now but firm. "We have protocols for a reason."

"I know we have rules and protocols, but sometimes situations don't allow us the luxury of following them," you muttered, your stubbornness rearing its head even in your injured state. "I didn't feel like I had a choice."

Spencer's grip on your head tightened for a moment, his jaw clenching as he fought back a more heated retort. He exhaled through his nostrils, his frustration clear.

"There's always a choice," he argued, his voice a low growl. "You just took the most reckless one."

Spencer's eyes flicked over your face, lingering on the gash on your temple for a moment before moving down to your lips. The atmosphere was thick with the kind of tension familiar to both of you, leading to late nights and whispered secrets.

"You don't get to throw yourself into danger like that and expect me not to worry," he nearly hissed.

He was standing close, his body practically leaning over you as he tended to your wound. His hands were still on your face, one gently holding the side of your head while the other held the handkerchief against your skin.

As he spoke, you could feel his breath, warm against your cheek. "Don't do that again," he said, his voice dropping to a whisper. "Don't make me worry like that."

"I can't promise that I won't get myself into dangerous situations," you said quietly, your eyes meeting his stare. "It's part of the job."

There was a pause, the tension thick between you. His hands were still gently cradling your head, but his touch felt more possessive now, like he was silently claiming you as his.

"Just promise me you'll be more careful," he said, his voice pleading.

His fingers trembled slightly against your skin, the vulnerability in his voice only increasing your desire to comfort him. You reached up and gently laid your hand over his, silently reassuring him that you were okay.

"I will," you whispered. "I promise."

A small smile tugged at the corners of your mouth, an idea forming in your mind. You knew that one way to get past Spencer's stubborn facade was through bribery, particularly with his sweet tooth.

"How about this," you began, your voice taking on a slightly teasing tone. "I'll be more careful, and I'll buy you some donuts as an apology for worrying you

His eyes widened slightly, a flicker of surprise flashing through them. It was almost comical how quickly you saw him crumble, his resolve melting under the suggestion of donuts.

"You're bribing me with sugar," he stated, sounding almost offended, yet the corners of his mouth were twitching upwards.

"Is it working?" you asked, grinning up at him. You could practically see his weak willpower crumbling away. Donuts were his kryptonite.

Spencer tried to maintain his stoic exterior, but the way his eyes lit up betrayed his true feelings. He was a sucker for donuts, and you knew it.

"I mean, it's not the worst bribe," he admitted, his voice laced with resignation but also with a hint of playfulness.

You let out a soft laugh, his feigned resistance amusing you. He could pretend to be mad all he wanted, but you knew he was already imagining the taste of those sugary treats.

"I'll even get the ones with sprinkles," you promised, knowing that would practically seal the deal.

"Sprinkles?" he repeated, his voice a little too eager to be convincing. "You know me so well."

He tried to play it cool, but his eyes betrayed his excitement. It was almost endearing how easily the idea of donuts broke down his defensive walls.

"Of course I do," you said, a hint of satisfaction in your voice. "I know exactly how to get you to forgive me."

You knew that donuts were his weakness, and you were more than willing to exploit it when necessary. After all, it was a small price to pay for Spencer's forgiveness.

He looked down at you, a hint of embarrassment creeping into his expression. He was fully aware of his sweet tooth and the power it held.

"You're not playing fair," he muttered, but there was no real heat behind his words.

He knew he was defeated, and deep down, he was probably already planning which donuts he wanted.

You couldn't help but chuckle at his response. He was adorable when he was trying to resist, even though you both knew he was fighting a losing battle.

"I never said I would play fair," you teased, a cheeky smile on your face. "I play to win, and this time, winning means getting you a dozen donuts."

Spencer flushed, his cheeks coloring slightly under your touch. He hadn't expected the gentle gesture, and his usually stoic demeanor faltered for a moment.

He turned his head, his gaze meeting yours. He looked a little flustered, his usual controlled expression replaced with a hint of vulnerability.

"That's...that's a good start," he murmured, his voice a little shaky.

He swallowed, trying to regain his composure but failing. The simple act of you kissing his cheek had thrown him off balance.

"But it's going to take more than that to truly make it up to me," he said, his voice regaining a bit of its usual teasing tone.

He leaned in a little closer, the air between you growing more charged. His eyes held a hint of mischief, his smile growing wider.

"I mean, I do like donuts, but I think I'm going to need something a little more substantial as a true apology," he whispered, his voice low and suggestive.

His hand lightly rested on your cheek, his thumb tracing a gentle path over your skin. He was being playful now, his usual serious demeanor giving way to his more flirtatious side.

His hand moved down to your chin, his touch light but deliberate. He tilted your face up to meet his gaze, his eyes darkened with desire.

"Can you think of anything more substantial that might serve as an adequate apology?" he murmured, his voice dripping with suggestion.

You felt yourself shiver under his touch, your body responding to his proximity and his words. There was a hint of hunger in his eyes, and it sent a thrill through you.

"Maybe," you replied, your voice a little breathless. "But I think I'll need a hint first. I wouldn't want to disappoint my favorite genius."

Spencer's smile widened, his fingers tracing a slow path down your jawline. He leaned in, his mouth close to your ear.

"Hmm," he pretended to think, his hot breath against your skin sending another shiver down your spine. "Perhaps the apology should be a little more... physical."

His hand moved from your chin down to your neck, his fingers lightly tracing the sensitive skin there. He was so close to you now, his body almost pressed against yours.

You could feel the heat radiating off him, his breath growing a bit heavier as he continued to toy with you.

"Something that involves a lot of... touching," he whispered, his voice low and seductive.

His hand moved lower, his fingers tracing a path down your collarbone, down your arm, and finally settling on your hip. His grip was firm but gentle, his touch possessive.

He stepped even closer, his body flush against yours now. You could feel the heat of his chest against yours, his heart beating a little quicker.

"That's the kind of apology I might forgive," he murmured, his mouth hovering just above yours.

He was so close, his eyes locked with yours. His thumb continued to trail patterns on your hip, his touch both maddening and exhilarating.

His hand slid around to the small of your back, pulling you even closer. He leaned down, his mouth now just a whisper away from yours.

"I'm a very tactile person," he whispered, his voice dripping with implication. "I need to feel my apologies, not just hear them."

Your pulse quickened at his words, his proximity and his touch sending a wave of heat through you.

You reached up, tangling your fingers in his hair and pulling his mouth close to yours. "Then I guess I'll just have to make sure my apology is extra convincing," you whispered, your voice husky with desire.

You closed the remaining distance between your lips, kissing him hard.

Spencer let out a soft groan at the contact, his hand on your back tightening as he pulled you close. He responded immediately, his mouth moving against yours with a ferocity that caught you off guard.

He tasted like coffee and some lingering sweetness, a combination that was irresistibly addictive. He nipped at your lips, his hands roaming over your body, touching and caressing with an increasing hunger.

The sound of the bathroom door made you both pull away. You looked past Spencer to see Hotch and Derek.

Derek's smirk widened as he saw the two of you quickly pull away from one another.

"Well, well, well," he said, his voice dripping with feigned innocence. "Looks like we've interrupted something."

Hotch couldn't help but chuckle, his gaze flickering between you and Spencer. Hotch pulled out his wallet, handing Derek a 50$ bill.

You looked between Hotch and Derek, your confusion deepening at the sight of the fifties changing hands.

"What are you two doing?" you asked, your voice a mix of amusement and bemusement.

"Oh, we just had a little bet going," Derek explained, his smirk widening.

Hotch nodded in agreement, his expression still one of mild amusement. "We bet on when you two would finally stop dancing around each other and just admit your feelings," he explained.

Your confusion slowly turned to embarrassment at their words. They had been betting on your relationship?

You shot a glance over at Spencer, who was looking just as flustered as you were. He was clearly still a little worked up from your earlier encounter, his cheeks slightly flushed and his hair a little disheveled.

"You two bet money on our love life?" you exclaimed, your voice a mix of amusement and indignation.

Derek chuckled, pocketing the money Hotch had handed over. "Guilty as charged," he said, his grin unapologetic.

Hotch shrugged, his expression still mild but with a hint of amusement. "Consider it a friendly wager," he said.

"Friendly wager or not, you two are unbelievable," you muttered, still a little flustered but trying to play it off with a laugh.

Spencer, on the other hand, was trying to regain his composure. He ran a hand through his hair, fixing his disheveled locks and trying to look unfazed.

"It's not like we were the only ones making bets," Derek pointed out, his gaze flickering over to Spencer. "JJ and Penelope have had a bet going on for months."

Spencer's face flushed even deeper at Derek's words. JJ and Penelope had been betting on your relationship too?

You couldn't help but laugh at Spencer's reaction to Derek's revelation. His expression was a mix of mortification and resignation, as if he had known deep down that the rest of the team was watching the slow burn between you two.

You turned to him, nudging him playfully. "Looks like we're the talk of the office, genius."

Spencer let out a sigh, his shoulders slumping a bit at your comment. "Great," he mumbled, running a hand through his hair again. "Just what I need, the whole team betting on our relationship."

He looked down at you, his expression a mix of resignation and fondness. "But I guess it was only a matter of time before we gave them something to talk about."

You gave him a reassuring smile, reaching up to touch his arm. "Hey, at least they seem to think we're a good match," you joked, trying to lighten the mood.

Hotch and Derek chuckled again at your comment, their grins still just as knowing.

Spencer let out another sigh, rolling his eyes exaggeratedly. "Yeah, and they're enjoying our... progression a little too much," he grumbled, his voice still a little flustered.

Derek let out a bark of laughter at Spencer's tone. "Oh, come on, Reid. Lighten up. We're just happy you two finally got your act together."

Hotch nodded in agreement. "And I have to say, I've never seen you quite so worked up over someone before," he observed, a hint of amusement in his voice.

Spencer's cheeks colored again at Hotch's remark. He shot him a glare, but it was half-hearted at best.

"Can we please stop discussing my love life," he muttered, shifting his weight awkwardly.

Derek and Hotch exchanged another smirk, obviously enjoying their ability to embarrass him.

You guys left the restroom and the bar all together. The unsub as and the two others had been detained and taken to interrogation. The EMTs had just finished tending to your injured head the wound was cleaned and plastered but thankfully did not require stitches. You were sitting on the edge of the ambulance, a blanket draped around you

Spencer hovered over you, his expression one of concern. He had been by your side the whole time, watching as the EMTs cleaned and bandaged your wound.

Now, he was sitting next to you on the edge of the ambulance, his hand resting on your leg. He was silent for a moment, his eyes focused on your face, taking in the sight of the bandaid plastered against your forehead.

"About earlier...in the bathroom..." you began, your voice soft.

Spencer's hand stiffened a little on your leg at your sudden mention of the kiss.

He swallowed, his gaze flickering away from yours for a moment before coming back to meet your eyes. "It...it meant something," he said, his voice hesitant. His eyes searched your face as if looking for some sort of confirmation. "At least, it did to me."

You smiled at his words, your heart fluttering at the sincerity in his voice. "Good," you said, your voice soft. "Because it meant a lot to me too."

You reached up, your hand gently tracing the line of his jaw. You could see the emotions flickering across his face, his usual stoic veneer cracked just a bit.

"I still owe you a dozen donuts," you reminded him, your voice light.

Yeah," he mumbled, his eyes flickering with a mixture of annoyance and resignation. "But I think I'd rather have another kiss than a dozen donuts."

He looked down, his expression a little contrite. "Not that I don't still want the donuts," he added quickly, a hint of a smile playing at the corner of his mouth.

You leaned forward, your hand still tangled in his hair, pulling his face down to meet yours.

The kiss was soft, a gentle press of lips against yours, filled with tenderness and sweetness. It was different from the urgent, passionate kiss you had shared in the bathroom, this one slow and deliberate.

You thought back to how it all started - how you had both agreed to pretend to be a couple to gain information during the case.

And now, here you were, sitting in the back of an ambulance, your lips still tingling from the kiss you had shared with Spencer. You never could have predicted that this charade would lead to something real, but it did.

Somehow, the lines between acting and reality had blurred, turning your pretend relationship into something completely genuine.

I don't know a lot about Criminal Minds and the characters, so I'm sorry if this is completely different than what the characters would say or do. I haven't watched the series, but I know the basic things.

So I apologize to anyone who's watched the series and that it doesn't match their personality!!!

[baronessvonglitter]

Sweet Summer Peach

dbf!Joel Miller x f!Reader

Word Count: 3.7K

Summary: when your dad's best friend Joel catches you with his younger brother Tommy, it sets off a spark of jealousy that can only be tamed by showing you how a real man treats a woman.

WARNINGS: 18+ Only! Mature and Explicit, big ol' girthy age gap (reader is between 18-21, Joel is in his 50s, Tommy is in his 40s), Tommy is a womanizer and Joel's just trying to save you from him while also getting a little of you for himself, innocence kink, first time/loss of virginity, fingering, dry humping, truck sex on a hot day in July, unprotected p in v sex (not stated whether reader is on birth control but we'll assume she is), creampie, come eating, praise and pet names (angel, darlin', baby from Joel; sugar, sweetheart from Tommy) definitely a daddy kink as you've known Joel your whole life and he's like a second father to you, once again your dad is clueless as to what's going on, reader is also Sarah's best friend but she is only mentioned not seen. Reader has hair that Joel can pull and wears a bikini and a sundress. No use of y/n.

JOEL MILLER MASTERLIST | FULL MASTERLIST

"Why don't you ditch that silly little wine cooler and let me give you a taste of somethin' else, sugar?" Tommy Miller's voice is sinful in your ear. "Somethin' a little stronger."

It's over a hundred degrees outside, with no comfort in the shade. The Millers are hosting their annual Fourth of July barbecue, and plenty of people are over, eating, drinking, chatting, swimming in the brand new pool. You've known Tommy and his older brother Joel for years, the latter your dad's best and oldest friend. You and Sarah, Joel's daughter, have been best friends as long as you can remember, being the same age and living just across the street from each other. Joel himself has always been like a second father to you, having watched you grow up. He took you and Sarah to ball games, to the zoo, on fishing expeditions, helped with homework, practically helped raise you. Sarah was his Baby, and you were his Angel.

Tommy, on the other hand, hasn't seen you in years. But he definitely likes the woman you've grown to be.

He's been making eyes at you all afternoon, not-so-subtle glances your way, obviously enticed by your new, revealing bikini. You're garnering a lot of attention from people today, just as you'd expected when you bought it. Your dad would sure have some comments to make on how underdressed you are, but he's not here, working until the evening, and you're taking advantage of your freedom.

Tommy awaits your answer, and with your drink gathering condensation in your hand, you tell him, "Okay," with a soft smile.

He takes your hand, fingers weaving around yours. "Let's dip into the house for a few minutes," he murmurs, eyes gleaming with mischief. Taking a quick look around you notice Joel's eyes on you, his gaze unreadable but you can sense he's on the verge of moving to stop you. But the sight of his glare only serves to stoke the fire of your excitement. It's highly likely he does not like watching Tommy lead you away to privacy.

"Where are you takin' me?" you ask, a giggle bubbling in your throat as you leave your drink behind. He's guiding you to the side entrance of the house, down the hall and to a small den. The blast of the AC hits you with sweet relief and you nearly sigh with satisfaction.

"Away from all the heat," he says, gently pushing you to the wall.

"Tommy," you giggle, half anxious, half excited.

His hands go immediately to your hips, his grip warm and firm as he pulls you close. A low, primal growl rumbles through his chest and he leans in, his nose brushing against your neck. "Don't worry, sweetheart. I got ya." His breath his hot against your skin, his teeth graze your throat, sending a shiver of want down your spine.

"You like that, sugar?" he whispers, his hands exploring your soft thighs, caressing upwards until they brush against the fabric of your bikini.

"More.." your voice comes out in a whimper.

Tommy's eyes gleam with pleasure at your desperate plea. "Greedy girl." His fingers find their way beneath your bikini bottom, gliding across your folds, grinning when you begin to grow even more wet under his touch. He teases without pushing inside, wanting to see you grow absolutely uninhibited with need. "What's the matter, sweetheart?" he teases.

"Not.. used to bein' touched like this," you tell him, brow furrowed in concentration of desire.

"Mm. I can tell." His touch is gentle and insistent, seeking out the spots that make your knees buckle. "You only ever had your own fingers in ya? That it?" He drinks in your sounds of pleasure as you nod at his question. He traces over your clit, watching your hips jerk. "There ya go.." he coaxes, lips on your neck as he continues touching and teasing you. "You like that, huh? Like how I'm touchin' ya?" His fingers circle your clit until you feel yourself grow tighter and tighter, soon to unwind..

"Yes.. yes.. oh my god, oh my god," you moan, and when you open your eyes Joel is there, watching both of you. He looks pissed. You shriek as you meet his searing gaze.

"Get your fuckin' hands off her," he growls menacingly.

Your blood freezes and you're vaguely aware of Tommy's fingers slipping away as he moves from you. Then as you realize your state of dress you try to fix your disheveled bikini, a feeble attempt to cover yourself. "Joel.. I'm sorry," you whisper.

Joel's eyes stay locked on you, a possessive rage smoldering in his black depths. He steps towards you, his movements deliberate and calculated, like a predator stalking its prey. "Sorry?" he mocks. "What the fuck are you doin' in here with my little brother's hands all over ya?"

"I.. I wasn't thinking." It's the truth. For once you'd let your hormones think for you.

His expression hardens. "You weren't thinkin'? That's all you have to say?" His gaze flicks to Tommy, the simmering anger still present in his eyes. "You. Get out," he commands, his voice sharp and authoritative.

Tommy hesitates briefly, all former bravado gone in the presence of his older brother's ire, and leave you and Joel alone.

You feel ashamed, scared, still dizzy with desire if you're honest, the ache Tommy created in you still lingering. "Joel, I'm sorry.. you won't tell my dad, will you?"

Joel's gaze is intense. "You're damn right I won't. Your daddy would rip my brother limb from limb if he found out what just happened." He steps closer to you, his eyes roaming your body, taking in your scantily clad appearance. "But you and I, darlin', we need to clear some things up."

"Like what?" you ask in a small voice, expecting the worst.

"First: I don't want you alone with Tommy ever again. Am I understood?" His voice drops to a low growl. "Second: I'm not done with you, angel. You're comin' with me."

Despite knowing you're in trouble already, you're recalcitrant. "You can't tell me what to do! I'm not a child anymore!"

Joel's eyes flash with anger, and before you can react, his hand quickly clamps around your wrist, his grip firm but not painful. "You're actin' like a child, darlin'. Now you can either come with me quietly, or you can put up a fight and I'll carry you outta here. Your choice."

For some reason the thought of him carrying you out sends a jolt straight to your center. But you relent. "Fine," you growl back. Joel hands you your sundress and you put it on, not caring to ask why he had it in his possession while you were in here with Tommy.

"Good girl," he mutters, leading you to his truck outside. He opens the door for you, the gentlemanly gesture a stark difference from his earlier demeanor. As you get in, Joel climbs into the driver's seat, his large frame filling the small space.

"Where are we goin'?" you ask as he starts up the engine and drives away with you.

He doesn't turn to look at you as he drives, his grip on the steering wheel white-knuckled and tense. "Somewhere we can talk, darlin'," he says gruffly. "Somewhere my meddlin' brother can't get his hands on ya."

You blush with shame as you think of what Joel saw you doing with Tommy, even though it was mostly innocent. "You don't see me as your little angel no more. do you?"

Joel's gaze flicks to you for a moment, his expression showing disappointment. "You stopped bein' an angel the moment you let my brother touch ya."

He pulls his pickup into a dirt parking lot, the location surrounded by trees and secluded from prying eyes.

"Better him than someone I don't know," you say lamely, looking around the deserted area.

"That's a low bar, angel," Joel mutters, voice thick with restraint. "You're not the only one who's noticed ya, darlin'. Hell, the whole damn town's been watchin' ya grow up."

"Tommy's the one who approached me. It wasn't my fault."

"Of course. He'd be blind not to want ya," he mutters darkly. "But you're not the first girl he's had his eye on, baby, and you ain't gonna be the last either."

It stings, but you try not to let it show. "I'm not tryna marry him, we were just havin' fun."

Joel scoffs, his eyes betraying his jealousy. "Fun, huh? Is that what you call it? You have no idea what my brother is like. He's no good for you. You're too young, too innocent, too damn pure."

"Evidently I'm no longer pure by your standards," you shoot back, arms crossed. "A girl can't enjoy herself without bein' a slut, right?"

His jaw clenches. "That's not what I meant. You're not just some toy for my brother to play with and toss aside. You don't know what he could do to you."

You remember Tommy's gentle, sure touch, the way his fingers glided over your most secret parts. "I got a sense of what he could do to me," you can't resist goading Joel. "And it felt so good.."

Joel looks like he's trying to swallow glass. "I bet he made you feel things you've never felt before, didn't he?"

"Almost.. not quite.." Blush fills your face.

"You mean he didn't make you come."

To have it put so bluntly makes you blush all over again. "No.. he didn't."

Joel wets his lips. "I bet it drove you crazy, havin' him touch you like that and not bein' able to finish.. must've driven you wild, huh?"

This is crazy. This conversation is crazy. This whole thing is crazy! It's like you're a kid again and Joel's trying to explain the birds and the bees because your own father doesn't want to.

"Yeah," you answer softly. "It's like an ache that won't go away."

His gaze darkens, drinking in the image of you all desperate, unable to get what you want. "And you're still achin', aren't ya, darlin'?" His voice is low, husky, intimate.

You feel small under his gaze, like a piece of meat being dangled before a hungry lion, like Little Red Riding Hood and the Big Bad Wolf. "Yes," comes your whispered reply.

Joel leans close, his large hands reaching out to cup your face. "Tell me what you want, angel."

He's giving you a choice, unlike Tommy who did what he wanted to do. Joel is giving you a choice.. "Make this ache go away for me.. please.."

His desire burns fiercely as he hears the plea in your voice. "You sure that's what you want, baby? Because once you let me in, there ain't no goin' back." His hands slide down to caress your neck, his touch both possessive and gentle.

You whimper. Once you let me in.. You're a fool not to think he means anything else. "I'm sure," you whisper, keeping your gaze on his dark eyes.

It sounds like a dare, like a threat, as he says, "All right, darlin'. You asked for it," and grabs hold of your waist, pulling you onto his lap so you're straddling him. You let out an involuntary gasp. His hands slide down from your waist to grab handfuls of your round ass, squeezing and kneading your cheeks firmly. "I've had a mind to do this for a long damn while," he growls. "You've been fillin' out lately, and those tight little shorts you wear 'round my house ain't doin' nothin' but teasin' my cock."

All your breath leaves you, the way he's grabbing you sends waves of heat and longing throughout your body.

His eyes burn as he feels your reaction to his touch. "You like that, baby?" he continues to grab and squeeze. "I've had to look at those tight little shorts of yours every time you come over.. always showin' off that perfect peach. Even now, this lil' sundress ain't barely coverin' anything." He kneads your cheeks again, giving them a light slap each.

You gasp at the sweet little stings, and each insistent knead of his hands on your ass pushes you forward onto his hard-on that tents his jeans. "That's it, angel. Ride my lap, just like that," he grunts. Your palms are planted on his shoulders, fingers gripping tightly as you grind yourself against him. Your heart is liable to shoot out of your chest but he feels so damn good, and so dangerous. "Like this?" you ask.

"Yeah, just like that, baby." Joel looks up at you, the mask of his authority slipping just a little as he watches you. "You feel that? That's what this pretty lil' ass does to me." Another quick little slap on your butt.

"Mm hmm," you reply, too caught up in the feeling to give a proper reply. "Oh my, I'm makin' such a mess on you," you whisper, noticing the wet spot on his jeans where you've been grinding on him without a care.

"Don't worry about me, darlin'. That's what I want." His voice is thick with desire and need. "I want you all wet and messy for me."

Jesus, the man knows just what to say.. "Joel," you whine. "You said you'd make the ache go away but you only made it worse.."

He quirks a brow. "That so? Well then I better do somethin' about that." One hand snakes its way between your bodies, his fingers easily finding your pussy through the thin material of your bikini bottom. You bite your lip as a curse word leaves your mouth, your head tilted back as he finds you wet and wanting. His fingers glide easily through your folds. "You're soaked, angel." He presses a kiss against your neck, grazing his teeth upon your skin as his fingers finally enter you, pressing into your sweet, welcoming warmth.

Brows furrowed, you start moving against his touch, sighing darkly as you feel his gentle love bite. "It's all.. for you," you sigh.

"I know it is, darlin'. Always has been." As his fingers rock inside you his thumb rubs small circles against your clit.

You ride his fingers, your breath shaking, gasping at the sweet intrusion. "Joel.. don't stop.. don't stop, I'm gonna come!"

"Go on, angel," he gruffs out. "Come for me.."

He holds you tight as you come undone on his lap, your pussy walls contracting around his fingers. "That's it.. good girl.." he praises. He withdraws them gently, shiny and covered in your thick, stringy slick. In a haze of pleasure you watch as he brings them to his lips, licking them clean. "You taste even better than I dreamed."

"Let me taste," you whisper, grabbing him for a kiss and swirling your tongue against his, tasting the remnants of your fulfillment. Your heart leaps as he goes to unbuckle his belt, and your body pulsates with unbridled need that overshadows all other thoughts.

"I need to be inside ya, darlin'."

"Yes.. please," you beg shamelessly.

"Lift up, angel," he whispers, pulling his jeans and boxers down halfway as you give him room. His cock springs up from his nest of dark brown wiry curls: a perfect, slightly curving length, thick and veiny, reaching up past his belly button, his precum already dribbling from the tip. His balls are heavy and full, lifting slightly as he pulls on himself, getting him primed for you. "You ready for me, baby?" he asks, voice low and thick with desire.

"Yes," you nod eagerly.

With your bikini bottom pushed to the side, he puts you over him again and starts to press into you. A deep, guttural groan rumbles from his chest as he firmly holds your hips. You gasp at the surrealness of the moment, straddling him in the driver's seat of the truck he taught you how to drive in just a couple short years ago. You whimper his name as you take a little of him at a time.

He claims your lips in a deep kiss, tongue delving into your mouth as he slowly sinks deeper inside you. Just when you think it's impossible to fit all of him, his kiss eases the way and you sink further down. "God," you sigh.

"You're doin' so good, baby. You feel so damn good around me," he soothes, completely. He starts to lift you up, to go slow and steady as already you're dripping onto him, your juices flowing down his shaft and drenching his pubes. You spread your thighs wider, feeling every inch of him inside you, a pleasure and yet a small pain. "Let me feel you like this for a little bit," you tell him, sheathing him with care.

"Whatever you want, darlin'. It's all yours," he mutters, leaning his forehead against yours, trying to still his heart, trying to catch his god damn breath.

"All mine," you whisper back, your breath tickling his ear. "My first.." You kiss him again and let your tongue tease his.

"Damn right," he growls. "And I'm gonna make sure you remember it forever. You're gonna feel me for days.." With that he starts to move, slowly, generating the friction your unsatisfied body so craves. "Grind yourself on me, just like that," he whispers, pulling the front of your sundress down to reveal your bikini top, and peels that back to expose your breasts, your nipples like pert raspberries. He palms them roughly before tasting each one, swirling his tongue around one bud while pinching the other.

You squirm in his lap, moving up and down his shaft, coating him with your cream. "You're so fucking deep," you moan, cupping his head as he feasts on your tits.

"There ya go.. take all of me. Lemme fill ya up," he grunts. His body tenses under yours as you speed up, mesmerized as your tits bounce up and down right in front of him. "That's it.. ah, such a good girl for me. How much more ya want? How much can ya handle?"

"I want.. fuck!.. I want more," you moan. "Fuck me, Joel!"

At your command he thrusts up, deep and rough, pulling your hair back so he can watch your body, gleaming with sweat, pulsate with pleasure as he taps into your primal need. The truck windows are fogged up as the vehicle gently bounces with your movements. His long, thick fingers leave marks on your hips and your ass cheeks.

He pistons up into you relentlessly, the sound of skin slapping on skin echoing in the truck, along with his grunts and the heavenly crescendo of your sweet moans. He keeps up the rigorous pace and you're on the edge, about to topple over into bliss. "Come on, baby," he urges you. "Yeah, that's it.. come for me.."

Only a few more fierce, upward thrusts and you come, with him nestled in up to the hilt so that every inch of him can feel you quake with pleasure. Your pussy flutters and convulses around him as you rear your head back, basking in the sublime pleasure. Joel follows soon after, unable to resist as he comes deep inside you. You give a little gasp at the warm bursts of his release, unlocking something primal in you. "Give me every drop," you whisper.

"It's all yours, darlin'," he hisses, holding onto you as he pumps stream after stream of his thick white cum within you.

Your eyes meet as he finally stills, slumping back down in his seat, still holding you close so you can feel the thundering beat of one another's hearts. "God.. you filled me up," you say in amazement, feeling him drip out of you already though he hasn't made a move to disengage from you yet.

"Imma fill you up any damn time you want," he rumbles. "Even if I gotta sneak into your room at night. Your daddy ain't gonna know a thing."

You bite your lip, realizing he's not kidding, he's not giving promises he doesn't mean to keep. "He'd probably kill you if he knew what we just did."

Joel's eyes burn with a determination that scares you a little. "Well he ain't gonna ever know. I got ways of keepin' things quiet." He gazes at you and his eyes soften, as if he's looking upon the most beautiful and innocent thing in all the world. "I always knew I wanted ya, ever since you turned into such a sweet little treat."

His phone rings and he groans when he realizes it's your father. He puts a hand over your mouth even though you wouldn't dare let on that you're with him, and makes the conversation as quick as possible before hanging up. "We better go, darlin'. Your daddy's waitin', wonderin' where you are," he says casually, as if he hadn't just had a conversation with your dad while balls-deep inside you.

You lift yourself off him wincing a little at the soreness between your thighs. The remnants of Joel's sticky seed start to trickle down your leg. He runs his thumb along your inner thigh, gathering his cum and brings it to your lips. You suck the salty fluid off his thumb. "I'm not wasting any of it," you tell him, licking your lips as you swallow.

"God damn," he mutters hotly. "You're killin' me, angel," he says, helping you arrange your clothes so you're decent again.

"Not anymore.. you just turned this angel into a devil.."

"Hey pumpkin, where ya been?" your dad greets you as you get out of Joel's truck in his driveway. Walking is a little painful as you're still sore, but you try to act natural.

"Beer run," Joel answers for you, holding up a twelve-pack of Corona Extra.

"Joel took me on a ride," you can't help saying, "It was fun." His cum is still collecting in your swimsuit bottom. "Hey Daddy, Sarah asked me to spend the night with her, so I'll be here all night. Is that okay with you, Joel?" You suppress a smirk as you address both the men.

Joel's heart rate spikes and his imagination runs wild in the quick span of a moment before he says, "Of course it is. You're always welcome here."

And later, when the Fourth of July fireworks cast their multi-colored lights on the black horizon, no one notices as you and Joel sneak away together, the booms overhead concealing your noises of gratification.

dividers by @saradika-graphics 👑

[tacticalprincess]

ok ok but imagine being simon’s gf and könig just being so infatuated with u :( he likes you so so much, believes you deserve better than simon and just pines after you ^_^

very im on fire of him

könig’s never been one to be discreet about his feelings, especially toward you. he doesn’t owe simon anything, much less loyalty. his crush has become an inside joke amongst the crew, has gotten dirty looks thrown at him by simon too many times to count for being just slightly too touchy to be friendly, too intense in his yearning. tuning in intently whenever you talk, doing small favors for you whenever he gets the chance, asks after you when you’re gone. too close for comfort, oughta get himself in trouble, simon says.

its hard to ignore a stare that burns a hole in the side of your head, weighted like a caress on all the exposed parts of your body. könig gets some sort of satisfaction out of watching you squirm under his intense gaze, eyes trained on you most of the time he’s around, because at least he makes you feel something. he wishes to sliver underneath your skin and infiltrate your thoughts just as you’ve done to him, sending his emotions into haywire just by way of existing. smiling at him so brightly, extending a fraction of the warmth and kindness that comes naturally to you, craves it when he’s alone at night. your boyfriend can’t blame him.

simon’s weird, quiet teammate, helplessly infatuated with you, his too cute, too sweet, too soft girlfriend. could only dream of experiencing the parts of you that are exclusively for simon — wonders how someone like you even ended up with a man like him. looking far too out of place under his tattooed arm, bottom lip tucked between pearly teeth bashfully while he chats to the group of guys in typical boyish manner. the occasional ducks of his head to kiss your forehead when he remembers you’re there is not enough attention showed to such a pretty, doting thing like you, in könig’s humble opinion. it’s not even that he believes he’s better than him, but a selfish part of him would rather you end up in his calloused hands than anyone elses. his mind strays the longer he observes you, imagines all the ways he’d treat you better, take care of you like you deserve. would’ve probably already proposed to you by now given the chance. you might seem happy enough, but that doesn’t stop him from searching for cracks in the polished porcelain. always waiting for a spot to slip in.

he finally gets you alone one night, finds you where you wandered off into price’s basement to fetch more beer. coming behind you to grab the case from your delicate hands like lifting a feather off the ground.

“boyfriend not here to do this for you?”

after you regain your composure from the startle, you scoff, peering up at könig through your lashes. “just thought i’d do something nice for him.”

“sweet. does he always allow you to do a man’s job?” sarcasm bites at his words.

“allow me—?”

“do you think he even noticed your absence, maus?” he presses a bit harder, his face holding the same indifference it always does under his mask, tone flat around his accent. “as i did?”

his eyes search yours for a second, looking for any sign of reciprocation for his feelings, and somehow you can tell he knows you don’t know how to respond. as a show of mercy, he steps to the side to let you squeeze past his frame and up the stairs leading back inside the house, heavy footsteps following slowly behind. he watches as you so easily slip back into simon’s side, how his arm finds its home around your shoulders without effort. concern knits your boyfriend’s eyebrows together as he leans down to peck your lips, never breaking eye contact with könig over your shoulder, a petty display of ownership. he watches.

[forlix]

𝘀𝘂𝗯𝘁𝗲𝘅𝘁・l.f.

— in which you forget that your hot housemate follows you on twitter.

𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗱𝘀・1.1k 𝗽𝗮𝗶𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴・roommate!felix x gn!streamer!reader 𝗴𝗲𝗻𝗿𝗲𝘀・fluff, flirting, kind of an smau, implied friends to lovers, humor if u count jeongin being a piece of shit

𝗮/𝗻・saw this tweet the other day and it was so painfully lix coded that i knew i had to write something asap. contains a tiny bit of gaming jargon but is hopefully comprehensible. ENJOY ♡

y/n ꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱₊˚⊹ @ y/nxx

if someone brings you fresh cut fruit to your table when you're gaming, they either like LIKE you or it's your mom

11:23 A.M.・Oct. 2023・220.2K Views

bokkie 🐣 liked your post.

“My tweet?”

You read aloud the newest text in your chatroom, and your face brightens when you remember the one in question.

“Oh, about the fruit—no, it’s so true though. And I love my mom, don't get me wrong, but I have an inkling she did it to guilt trip me." You change your posture and adopt your best motherly tone of voice. "‘This is your tenth consecutive hour wasting your young adulthood in front of that damn screen. I am now going to hand deliver apple slices straight to your mouth.’ That kind of vibe, y'know?"

A slew of messages follows your anecdote, but it is a comment from one of your moderators that catches your eye first:

je0ng1n: what about the other option tho 👀

You groan at the sight of his username. “Man, why are you always here? Don't you have a job?"

je0ng1n: i’m on break je0ng1n: taking a dump je0ng1n: ungrateful bitch

You brandish a middle finger to the camera. “Hope the dump sucks."

je0ng1n: HEY je0ng1n: don’t even joke about that :(

An involuntary cackle precedes your next words. “If you’re actually wondering, though, the only person who’s brought me fruit while I’m playing video games is indeed my mother. Heartbreaking, I know.”

At this, the steady flow of messages morphs into a gallery of depressed cat emoticons; your audience never fails to impress you with their way with words.

“But if someone other than your disappointed parent is bringing you fruit,” you go on, “they might as well get on one knee in the process, honestly. That's such an adorable, loving thing to do.”

Suddenly, the words MATCH FOUND splash across your monitor, and you move your cursor to accept the game invite—only to be met with a pop-up window and a familiar error sound that grates on your ears like screeching tires.

You know how this story ends: the lights in your mouse go dark, and you look on in dejected silence.

je0ng1n: LMFAOOOOO je0ng1n: bro’s mouse definitely just exploded again

“You guessed it," you sigh. “Hang tight for a sec, guys."

Half an hour ago, you could’ve sworn you heard sneakers being kicked off, a set of keys falling against plastic. Now, you pull one side of your headphones off and roll your chair a few feet backward, calling through your half-open door: “Lix, are you home?”

You pick up on a soft clunk that sounds like metal hitting wood—the cutting board, maybe?—and then your housemate's low, accented answer bounces off the walls of your shared hallway.

“Yeah, you alright?”

“The mouse,” you say helplessly.

“Ah.” It’s not the first time you’ve summoned him for this. “Be right there.”

A few seconds later, you remember to tack on a hurried disclaimer: “I’m live, by the way!”

“I know.”

This brings a bashful smile to your face, though the expression quickly turns to one of pure dismay when you return to your desk and witness the disastrous state of your chat.

Felix has become a regular guest on your stream by now, always popping in to show you a TikTok or ask for your opinion on a new pair of jeans or simply give your camera an awkward wave—but he may as well own your channel with how completely and unequivocally he has captured the hearts of your viewers. They’re convinced he’s the sexiest person to ever grace the earth, with his chiseled features and coffee-colored eyes; with a grin that could set entire estates on fire and a voice that could scrape the nadir of the Grand Canyon.

Do you agree? Absolutely.

Do you have any intention of voicing this sentiment, so long as you’re splitting rent with him? Absolutely the hell not.

Another of Jeongin’s messages—GET ME HIS NUMBER OR I GET VIOLENT—inspires you to minimize the stream window before Felix gets here. It’s for the best.

A few moments later, the door opens, and the air shifts inside your room. A hand comes to rest on the top of your head; a familiar silhouette appears in your periphery. There is a fond grin plastered across your face and a bright greeting sitting readily on the tip of your tongue.

But then, Felix places a plate of freshly cut fruit in the empty space to the left of your keyboard—here, he hums, the sound falling against the shell of your ear like a drop of melted chocolate. And the gears of your brain grind to a complete stop.

There is no further acknowledgment; no supplementary explanation for what he's just done. He simply picks up your mouse and gets to work.

The words of your tweet swim dizzyingly before your eyes, not unlike those halos of stars and birds that revolve around disoriented cartoon characters. And you’re suddenly, achingly aware of your roommate's arm nudging against yours as he tinkers away; of the aromas of vanilla and laundry detergent that always come with his proximity; of the heat that’s risen to your face, and the plethora of questions that have surfaced to your mind.

A soft huff of laughter follows a gentle utterance of your name, and you snap out of your trance. Felix’s eyes are glinting with amusement when you meet them.

“It’s been recalibrated,” he says, handing back your mouse. “Just give it a few minutes.”

Your fingertips brush over his palm when you accept the object, and even this blink of contact has your heart performing an elaborate hopscotch routine across the plane of your chest.

It’s either your mom, or…

“Thank you,” you mumble, finally retrieving your larynx from the bottom of the Atlantic.

“Anytime,” Felix returns, and you know he means it. “You need a duo, by the way?"

“Yes, please.”

He gives you a warm smile at this, and there’s a hint of something else—something new—in the curve of his lips. “Give me two.” And he’s gone as quickly as he'd come.

You will never know how Felix slips his phone out of his pocket the second he emerges from your room, his pulse hounding his ears as he turns a nervous gaze upon his screen.

There is now a supersonic blur of messages saturating your chatroom, a colorful cacophony of moving emotes and capital letters, but he is focused wholly on the person in front of the camera and how you slowly lift a hand to your mouth, deathly silent despite your every viewer demanding your comment on the matter, your sanguine cheeks visible even through the gaps of your fingers.

That is all he needs to know.

Felix sinks into the leather of his gaming chair and bends to power on his computer. Only after a deep breath blows past his lips does his smile start to stretch into a grin, every bit as embarrassed as it is relieved.

je0ng1n: no way je0ng1n: no fucking way je0ng1n: my heart fluttered je0ng1n: wtf je0ng1n: how’d you pull HIM??

y/nxx has removed je0ng1n as a moderator of this channel.

𝗹𝗶𝗸𝗲𝗱 𝘁𝗵𝗶𝘀 𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗸? please consider reblogging, commenting, or sending me an ask to let me know; or, read my other works here. thanks so much for the support ♡

© 𝗳𝗼𝗿𝗹𝗶𝘅 (est. 090323) · all works are pieces of original writing and all characters and relationships are purely fictional. please do not repost or reuse for any reason.